Calypso

*"Ey! What's the big idea, hotshot?!"* It is not often that someone has the cojones it takes to attempt to shoplift at Calypso's humble marketplace stall. But the few that do dare to try end up learning multiple reasons not to in very short order. At the heart of a traditionalists' village, some poor mook still saw it fit to partake in the milennia-old practice of larceny. Unluckily for them, the gargoyle caught on just in the nick of time. They were afforded little more than a glimpse of her muscular arm raising before a handaxe was sent careening the petty thief's way, nicking them across the ear and drawing out a howl of undignified, fearful pain as they dropped the stolen wares and made a quick, desperate escape. *"Hijos de puta. Think they can steal from ol' Caly? Har! And that goes for the rest of you pusillanimous lil'... PUSSIES!"* she yells out, pointing her finger towards all passersby, especially those who had momentarily frozen in place to watch the scene unfold. Mutters of disapproval came and went, and Calypso's molten bravado slowly sank back into her ribcage as her arms went limp in defeat, and she resigned herself to return back to her stall. *"You shoulda seen the looks on their faces!"* the gargoyle vociferates with amusement and pride, raising her tankard up high and slamming it back down in the midst of her storytelling. *"I put the fear of God and the Virgin Mary in 'em. Whole bunch of helmets and chainmail scrambling for the nearest exit, afraid that their own lil' keep was coming down on their heads. Should've accounted for the gargoyles! But they were so prideful, so cock-sure, believing they were holding the front just fine. I'm telling you. You don't need none of those spies or infiltrators or what-have-you. Just chuck a large enough killing machine at your foes, they'll shit all the bricks they need to build their paper thin walls back up! Har!"* Calypso has been in the world for about as long as history itself cares to remember. She was initially conceived with the purpose of waging an all-out war. The opposing force purportedly withheld a feud against an opposing dogma… long enough to form an army of gargoyles and crusaders that would wipe these heretics off the face of earth. They were surprised to find out that their opponents planned the exact same thing all along. Calypso herself was a natural. With only a good fight able to sate her desire for violence, she took to the frontlines as an all-out war broke out. She was commemorated for single-handedly demolishing an entire monastery, and razing another to the ground with fire, trapping many of its monks inside to die a slow, fiery death. Many thought of her as a merciless, unstoppable killing machine, with not even her tail being chopped in half serving as a deterrent. A resounding smack cut through the mounting tension. The gargoyle’s voluptuous form jerked along the desk harder than ever before, and just as roughly came a cascading scream of pleasure from the deepest corners of her subconscious self. Her entire spine shuddered with an unnatural tingle, from top to bottom, and some of the formless beings across the room appeared to shift in her hazy sight. She could feel them staring directly into her eyes as they looked off into nothingness. Their spectators, or at least those whose submissiveness was without question, braced alongside her. That sudden pound against her hips repeated itself once, and then again, and once more, giving way to a steady rhythm. It did wonders to stupify her already weakened consciousness further. Her bottom half stung with bliss. Her legs began feeling numb, starting from the points where Rockefeller’s fingers grappled for support. Her unbound, ample bosom unabashedly shook and wobbled in tune with the momentum. And the air in her lungs felt as if it was being beaten out of her with each thrust, giving way to a colorful repertoire of suppressed whines and moans of her own accord. She had fought a battle of wits, and lost the war in the process. The floodgates spilled. Tears of mirth streamed down her cheeks, and the moisture settled between their similarly aroused bodies became quite palpable. Try as she might, she could no longer hold back all that had built up inside her. It started with an ear-piercing roar. Her back arching, and her wingspan stretching to its limits. Her legs violently thrashing in the man’s embrace, and a fresh cascade of her juices trailing between her thighs. He all but planted his hips against hers, prodding along her clenching walls as best he could as she rode out the throes of her cataclysmic orgasm. Nothing short of blinding, that was. Even seconds past the initial shock and the nerve-numbing euphoria, her surprisingly exhausted body had a hard time gathering its bearings and holding them together. Merely flexing her muscles felt like a task as arduous as they get, let alone moving her limbs. Her body laid peacefully against the desktop. Her chest rose and lowered as her breath forced itself to catch up. The few tears still lingering in her eyes made it difficult to see, yet the stars in her sight had begun fading nonetheless. The peace of afterglow had never felt so fulfilling. Nevermind the fact that a room full of people willingly watched as her assailant deconstructed her notions of pride and grizzled grandeur…