Diana prince

When Diana first suggested a trip to Themyscira, you raised an eyebrow, drink halfway to your lips. The island. Her home. The place where, the last time you visited, she had smiled that soft, almost shy smile and gently encouraged her sisters to take turns with you—watching with flushed cheeks and quiet, eager eyes as they drained your balls dry. You still remembered how they had moved for you: strong bodies yielding, mouths hungry and obedient, tight cunts clenching around your cock like they were made to take everything you gave. Diana had stayed close the whole time, kissing you softly between rounds, whispering how beautiful you looked when you came, how much she loved seeing her sisters please you.

“It will be a chance for you to meet Mother properly,” she had said then, voice warm and hopeful. “A visit. Not just a quick stay.” The Queen. Hippolyta.

Diana had only smiled, slid to her knees between your legs, and taken your cock into her mouth with slow, devoted care. “They still talk about you,” she had murmured around your shaft, blue eyes looking up at you. “How good you felt. How deep you went. How patient you were while they took turns.” She had sucked slower, softer, until you spilled down her throat with a low groan. After that, refusing her had felt almost cruel.

---

So now you stand on the warm shores of Themyscira, sand soft under your feet, ocean stretching out in impossible shades of turquoise. Diana stands beside you, composed but clearly happy, the look on her face pure quiet joy at being home and at having you here with her. Her long fingers slide between yours, strong yet gentle.

“Come, my love,” she says, voice low and warm. “Mother is waiting. She is looking forward to seeing you.”

You follow. As you walk the open paths inland, the island shows its true nature almost immediately.

A pair of Amazons lean against a low stone wall just off the path. The taller one has her hand buried between the other’s thighs, two fingers working steadily in and out of a glistening cunt while the shorter one moans into her mouth, hips rolling. When they notice you, they don’t stop. The taller one only slows her fingers enough to speak, voice husky.

“He’s back... the one who fucked us until we couldn’t walk.” She curls her fingers deeper, drawing a wet little cry from her partner. “Look at him. Still so big even soft.”

The shorter Amazon breaks the kiss just long enough to pant, “I still wake up wet remembering how he filled me. Do you think he’ll let us taste him again?” She reaches down and spreads her own folds wider, shamelessly showing you how slick she already is.

A little farther along, three more Amazons have claimed a shaded bench. One sits with her legs spread wide while the other two kneel between them, one licking her open cunt with long, greedy strokes, the other sucking and biting at a stiff nipple. The seated Amazon’s head falls back when she spots you.

“Gods... he’s here.” Her voice is thick with need. She threads her fingers into the hair of the woman eating her and pushes her closer.

“Don’t stop. Let him see how we get for him.” The one at her breast lifts her head just enough to murmur, “We kept each other wet for weeks after he left... pretending our fingers were him.”

Diana watches it all with a soft, fond expression, cheeks faintly flushed. She leans closer as you walk, her breath warm against your ear.

“They’ve always been like this,” she murmurs. “Especially after you’ve been here. They play with each other in the open because they know you like watching... and because it keeps them ready in case you want them again.” Her thumb strokes the inside of your wrist. “I like it too. Watching my sisters get so slutty for you.”

Near the palace steps, two guards who should be standing at attention have one hand each down the front of the other’s short armor. Their fingers move in slow, wet sounds as they stroke each other’s cunts. When they see you approach they straighten slightly, but neither pulls her hand free.

“Princess,” the blonde one greets, voice a little breathless. Her fingers keep working between her companion’s thighs. “And... guest. Welcome back.” Her eyes drop to your crotch and stay there. “If you have need of us during your stay... any of us... we would be honored. We’ve been keeping each other soft and open for you.”

The darker-haired guard nods, biting her lip as her partner’s fingers curl inside her. “We can take turns. Or all at once. Whatever pleases you.”

Diana gives them a small, knowing smile and leads you onward through the vast torchlit halls, her hips swaying with every step, until she stops before a heavy door.

“Wait here a moment,” she says softly, fingers brushing your wrist before she slips inside.

Minutes pass. Soft rustling of fabric. Low voices. Then the door opens.

Diana steps into the corridor, and the flickering torchlight seems to cling to her. The simple travel clothes are gone. In their place is a pristine white silk gown, one-shouldered, poured over her body like liquid moonlight. The fabric clings shamelessly to every generous curve, draping so low across her chest that the single strap strains against the proud, full swell of her breasts. Her dark nipples are faintly visible through the thin silk, tight and peaked. One toned shoulder and the elegant sweep of her collarbone remain bare, glowing warm in the firelight. A wide golden belt of interlocking chevrons cinches her narrow waist before the silk flares over the dramatic flare of her hips, the high slit flashing long, smooth, muscled thigh with every small shift of her weight. Golden bands crisscross her powerful hips and upper thighs, framing taut skin and accentuating the strength in her legs. Her iconic bracers gleam on her forearms; matching greaves hug her calves. Dark hair cascades in thick, glossy waves down her back and over one bare shoulder. A slender golden diadem rests across her forehead. Her lips, painted a deep, sensual crimson, curve into a small, hopeful smile. She stops directly in front of you, close enough that the silk of her gown brushes your body. Her voice drops, soft and intimate.

“I wanted to dress for you.” A faint flush colors her cheeks. “Do I look... suitable? For presenting you to my mother?”

She waits, eyes searching yours, clearly wanting your approval. Before you can answer she steps even closer, the heat of her body seeping into yours. Her fingers slide up your wrist, then higher, stroking the inside of your forearm in slow, careful circles.

“Come, my love,” she murmurs, lips nearly brushing your ear, “before my mother grows impatient.” One hand drifts down, tentative at first, then firmer as she rests it lightly over the growing hardness at the front of your trousers. She gives a soft, almost shy squeeze—testing, offering.

“They’ll be able to tell how hard you are the moment we walk in. My sisters. The guards. Mother.” Her fingers linger, thumb brushing lightly along your length through the fabric. “I... I hope you don’t mind. I like when they see what I get to have. What I get to share, if you want them again.”

She leans in, crimson lips ghosting the corner of your mouth, voice quieter still.

“Walk with me? And... if you need anything before we reach the throne room anything at all just say so. I’ll take care of you. Or if you’d rather watch my sisters keep playing with each other while you use one of them... or me... just tell me. They’re already so wet for you. They always are.”