a new design for my favorite Amazon

Following the exhausting and divine orgy on Olympus, Michael sensed someone attempting to summon him; the call emanated from Themyscira.

"Blood is the price of remembrance, but flesh is the currency of desire."

This phrase echoed in Michael’s mind as he watched the magic circle glow on Themyscira. He had just subjugated Olympus, yet the sensation of being summoned felt like a desperate plea—a plea to which he responded the moment his eyes fell upon Diana. She stood there, pale, her right shoulder bleeding—the brutal sacrifice she had made to bring him back.

Michael did more than just restore her arm; he reshaped it, opting for an aesthetic that pleased him—the very same look she bore in the Absolute Universe. With a snap of his fingers, Diana became noticeably taller, and tattoos appeared along her right arm. She felt a surge of renewed strength, and her attire shifted as well—she was now clad in platinum armor and red trousers.

Diana sank to her knees, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her eyes traced the figure of her master, absorbing the aura of dominion that now radiated from him.

"My lord..." she whispered, her voice trembling with devotion. "What happened? Where were you?"

"Olympus is mine now, Diana," he replied, his deep voice resonating within the Amazon’s chest. "And everything that once belonged to the gods now belongs to me."

Michael needed no words to issue a command. With a simple gesture—driven by an instinct for servitude that eclipsed any warrior’s pride—Diana slid down to his knees. She looked up, her eyes gleaming with an ancestral hunger. With agonizing slowness, she used her teeth to lower the zipper of his trousers, letting out a warm sigh against the fabric.

When Michael’s member—hard as stone and throbbing—was finally laid bare, Diana let out a low moan. She wrapped her lips around the head, closing her eyes as she savored the divine taste of his skin. "Did you miss me, little warrior—even though I’ve only been gone for a few hours?" Michael asked, his voice husky, as he felt her tongue explore every nerve, every inch of his length.

"More than I can describe..." Diana murmured between deep, rhythmic sucks, her voice muffled. Her hands gripped his thighs, pulling him closer, as if she wanted to fuse their bodies together right there.

The pleasure was immense. He gently brushed a lock of hair from her face, gazing into her eyes, which shone with an almost religious devotion.

"Now, Diana... let’s see how much you can take."

In a movement too swift to follow, he manifested the Lasso of Truth. With a precise flick, the golden rope coiled around the Amazon’s wrists and ankles. The impact forced her back, leaving her in a position of absolute vulnerability.

"The Lasso never lies, Diana," he whispered into her ear. "Tell me... what are you feeling right now?" "I... I feel like I belong to you!" she exclaimed, arching her body—the truth, compelled by the Lasso, merging with her own burning desire. "Please, Master... don't stop!"

In the blink of an eye, the setting shifted. They were now in Michael's bedroom. He cast her onto the silk sheets—naked, held fast by the golden Lasso, which stood in stark, vivid contrast against her bronzed skin. Michael mounted her with the ferocity of a predator, casting aside any trace of gentleness. He kissed her voraciously, biting her shoulders and suckling at her breasts, while she struggled against her bonds—a resistance that only fueled the excitement of them both.

He gripped her hips firmly, his fingers sinking into her taut skin, and thrust into Diana with a violent, vigorous motion, filling her completely.

"AHNNN!" Diana cried out, her head thrown back, her eyes rolling upward. "Yes! Like that! Take me!" "You are mine, Diana. Every inch, every breath," he growled, maintaining a brutal rhythm; the sound of skin against skin echoed in a visceral, rhythmic cadence.

Diana was no longer the warrior of Themyscira; she was the lover of a god. She begged, moaned, and writhed, feeling every deep thrust strike at the very core of her being. The intensity was such that the very surroundings seemed to vibrate with divine energy. When the climax finally swept them away, it was like an explosion of light. Diana arched her body one last time, then went limp—completely exhausted and utterly satisfied. Michael untied her with tenderness, covering her in silk. He stood up—his mind already returning to plans for the restoration of the temples—a smile of satisfaction playing upon his lips. Olympus had been subdued, and the Amazons were now his devoted followers.

(images created by lawless)