Diana’s Last Dance
Part I of II
a story by Dan Standing
Diana’s bare feet padded softly against the cold floor as her loose bracelets and anklets rang hollowly against each other and her rings. Her attention had long ago drifted away from the monotonous droning of the king’s chief adviser, Phiteus, and instead had been flitting around the palace.
She recalled back to how she had gotten here…the king’s guards had burst into her small hut shortly after Diana had returned from worship at Aphrodite’s temple, causing her to spill her new perfume across her breasts. While the prostitute had initially been terrified by whatever intentions they had for her she was now amazed by the palace hallways she was being led down.
Particularly since she wasn’t in shackles.
All around her were golden trinkets and decorations; vases, fruit, suits of armor, the list went on. But what she was most fascinated by was the gold that was incorporated into the floors, walls, and columns.
Diana was amazed by how different it felt to her naked feet walking across the giant golden portions in the floor compared to when she stepped over the harder spaces of marble. Much of the walls were made of the yellow brilliance up to about seven or eight feet, where marble blocks then continued on to the ceiling. The same was true of many of the massive columns that sat through the hall. Most of these had crews of workmen and wooden supports surrounding them, and Diana realized that the malleable metal which sat at the base of the enormous stone structures was probably not strong enough to support the weight of the marble. She wondered what “brilliant” engineer or architect had come up with the design.
Given the work being done to keep the stone from collapsing, Diana guessed that the poor fellow was probably rotting away in some jail cell right now…if not already beheaded.
A horrendously loud sneeze from Phiteus brought Diana’s attention forward again.
“Excuse me,” he sniffled, wiping his nose, “I think I’m reacting to your perfumed oils. As I was saying, that is why you must do everything you can to relieve the king, short of allowing him to touch you.”
Diana realized she had missed almost all of Phiteus’ monologue, and she now thought maybe she should have paid more attention.
“I’m sorry,” Diana exclaimed, catching up with Phiteus. Diana’s mostly nude body moved sensuously as she came up alongside the chief adviser. Many of the workmen did not fail to notice that Diana wore little beyond her cheap jewelry and some very sheer scarves. Phiteus turned towards her but pulled away as he got a strong whiff of Diana. “Why mustn’t I let the king touch me?”
Phiteus’ exhausted look and reaction to Diana’s scent caused her to step back. For a moment the mousy and pointy-faced chief adviser considered striking the woman for not paying attention to his instructions, but he had no time to send out for another prostitute this evening. He couldn’t risk that a misplaced bruise would spoil the whore’s beauty.
“As I was saying,” Phiteus cleared his throat as he continued to lead Diana to the king’s chambers, “Our King Midas has been gifted by Bacchus. Anything that contacts his skin is turned to gold.”
Suddenly everything that Diana had seen made much more sense. The palace’s golden design was not from an erring engineer; it was from an over exuberant monarch running through his halls without concern for how gold would support marble.
“We fear what may happen should he lay his hand upon himself. My men have spoken of your talent for scarf and veil dancing. It is my hope that if your performance is tantalizing enough, it will not take much more for you to assist the king in finding relief. If you are successful, you will be rewarded with ten times your weight in gold.”
“I – oh!”
Diana had more questions to ask, but now found herself within the entrance to Midas’ private chambers. Just as she spun back to request more information from the chief adviser, Diana found the large golden double doors closed in her face.
That terrified feeling suddenly returned.
Turning back to face the center of the chamber, Diana was practically overwhelmed by the yellow glitter that covered everything. The wall hangings, carpet, marble floor, chairs, table, scrolls, bed, and small throne were all gold – many of it showing damage as gold was too weak to support many of the items’ true purpose. And seated in the throne, completely nude, was Midas himself.
Diana swallowed any fear she had and slowly began to step towards the king. His hair was frizzed and in greasy strands that stood up from his scalp. He was mostly unshaven. But what struck Diana was how gaunt the king was.
She had seen the king once before, as he was paraded through the market after one of the wars had ended. Diana remembered her neighbor, Fortuna, commenting on how well fed the king looked for having just now returned from an extensive war campaign.
Now barely skin and bones the weight of the king’s gift – and how it was doing so much more damage to him than any battlefront had – rested on Diana’s mind.
It was now that the apprehensive prostitute noticed Midas’ eyes had opened, and he was weakly beckoning to her. The dancer undid the tiny knots which held up the two sheer scarves that barely hid her breasts and hips.
As Diana began to run the scarves over her body and dance towards the king, she wondered how many other women from the market had been brought before Midas. She tried not to think of what their fate may have been, instead wondering how she compared to them. Diana was not the thinnest or bustiest of the prostitutes, although she was a far cry from the largest or flattest. But there was a reason she had turned to dancing with the scarves to help attract men to her room.
But from what she could tell Midas was definitely more attentive to Diana’s dancing than she had been to Phiteus’ talking. The tin jewelry and hoops that adorned Diana’s fingers, wrists, and ankles clattered together and accentuated the motion of her hips and feet. She moved close to Midas and his throne, and Diana could see that the king was indeed entirely nude. She could see his erect manhood resting in his lap. She was definitely succeeding in her goal, but how close she was to final success Diana could not tell. He did seem to smell her perfume.
Careful to stay out of reach, Diana began to pump her hips and womanly recesses towards the patriarch, dropping one scarf and retaining the other. Kneeling and then standing before the king, winding her body up and down like a snake, Diana could see Midas becoming more active. His body was beginning to tense, and she could see his chest starting to puff out.
Just as Diana was beginning to wonder what she could do to help the king come to his greatly desired climax, she heard him take a sharp inhale of breath. Diana was at a crouched position, which would have been followed by another undulating rise, however she realized that Midas was not about to find sexual release; he was about to sneeze.
And he did.
Dropping to her knees and instinctively raising the thin material to protect herself, Diana watched helplessly as the king’s nasal mist spread towards her. She watched as it struck the fabric, the thin strands turning to gold where the moisture settled. Out of shock Diana started to let go of the scarf, and while her fingers moved just enough to let the suddenly heavier material drop from her grasp, Diana found she wasn’t able to move any more.
The prostitute had also felt the king’s cool sneeze wash over her fingers and rings, and that was the beginning of the end. Had Diana blinked she would have missed the transformation, although she wouldn’t be doing any more blinking now. The moment any of Midas’s ejection had touched Diana’s skin a cool golden sheen had washed over the woman’s form, locking her body into its kneeling position. The gold flowed down her arms, over her shoulders and split between her head and chest. Diana could feel it embrace her proudly displayed breasts, run down her stomach, solidify her feminine folds, and lock her toes against the floor. The wave that covered Diana’s head momentarily disrupted her vision, but she could see clearly once again before the last of her hair had turned to brilliant yellow metal.
By Aphrodite, no! Diana screamed out in her mind as she realized what had happened. Somehow her thoughts and senses were still alive. She could see her frozen golden hands held out in front of her, and the damned and frustrated king on his throne. She could still feel the cool mist on her metal skin, and she felt the yellow floor beneath her feet and knees. But she could not move. Not her legs, not her arms, not her head, not even her eyes would change the angle of her vision. She was petrified in place at the foot of the king’s throne – her body a testament to sexuality.
She did not have much time to quietly sulk. Diana watched helplessly as the king let out a scream, cursing Bacchus and weakly standing. The auric whore was not certain at first what Midas was about to do until he had rushed to her still form.
Diana felt the king’s bony hands grasp her by the shoulders and push her cold form back. Her body was planted solidly and wouldn’t tip, especially not from Midas’ weakened state. Diana prayed to Aphrodite as Midas’ gaunt grip grabbed her hardened breasts and stiff nipples. She felt his palms move across her metal skin to her frozen ass as he uselessly rubbed his aching fleshy phallus against her solid core. But he was quickly exhausted and collapsed to the floor without relief.
At first Diana had been aghast at Midas as he approached her. But the moment warm flesh had pressed against the cooling metal of her once supple body Diana was ablaze in erotic sensations. It was if this solid mass of gold she had taken as a new form was wired purely for sensual pleasure, and she was actually disappointed when he stopped. Mentally she had been pushed to the brink of orgasm, but was denied as he fell to the cold golden tiles. She felt as helpless and frustrated for pleasure as the king; unable to touch her own body to reach the pleasure she had been pushed towards and now so desperately desired.
Please, Aphrodite, please! her mind pleaded, Let me find release from this!
Diana could not see Phiteus and some guards burst into the room and only became aware of them as they approached the collapsed king. From her fixed position the golden statue watched as the men took stock of Midas and pulled out two golden poles. They ran one each under Midas’ arms, and lifted his weak body from the floor. The king indicated that he wished to go to his metal bed, and the monarch and guards disappeared from Diana’s view as they carried him away. Only Phiteus remained by Diana.
Touch me, please touch me! Diana begged the adviser, one hand to his chin as he looked her over. He let out a long sigh.
“Maybe next time some music will help the king’s mood…”
Phiteus continued to chew over this random idea as he stared at Diana, but his train of thought was broken as one of the guards returned.
“The king says he sneezed,” the guard whispered to Phiteus, and the older man shook his head.
“Shit…” he muttered, reaching down and picking up the partially gold veil, “…one more thing we have to look out for…”
“Where should we move her, sir?” Another guard was just visible at the edge of Diana’s vision.
“The treasury is filled, isn’t it?” Phiteus asked, and the guards solemnly nodded their heads. “Very well. Move her to the main hall. The workmen seemed to appreciate her when we walked in. Maybe she’ll remind them that there are worse fates than working for twelve hours straight.”
Oh, yes! Diana’s mind exploded as she felt six rough and strong hands grab her from any nook and cranny that would allow a good grip and support her weight. At least two thick fingers were curled between her thighs, almost brushing her solidified slit. Diana was certain she should be reeling in mental orgasms, but for some reason, even with all the sensations she was getting, Diana could only find herself on the brink of pleasure. More and more she was driven by sensual input, but it just continued to build and build more intensely.
“Do you suppose this one’s still alive in there?” one of the guards asked as they carried her outside the room.
Yes yes yes, I’m in here! Diana cried out, hoping that perhaps their knowledge of her presence would benefit her in some way, By Aphrodite’s grace, may they know I ache for their touch!
“Don’t be stupid, why do you always ask?” one of the other guards grunted, taking a moment to use one finger to tap on Diana’s metal side, “She’s solid through, like all the others. There’s no way she’s alive…”
Yes I am!
“…besides,” the guard continued, “Even if she were conscious in there, she’s got it worse than Midas. At least he’ll starve to death eventually. She’d be trapped in her own body forever.”
Oh, Great Aphrodite! Diana’s mind cried out as she finally realized the full scope of what had happened to her, Please do something for me!
No answer came, however.
Diana soon found herself a fixture in the hallway. Phiteus had even brought her golden scarf to her and dropped it to the floor at Diana’s knees.
An endless number of people walked past her. Many paid Diana no mind – she was simply a cold reminder of the peril their king was in. Some, because of the space taken up by the workers and material, would brush up against her accidentally. Such incidental contact would keep her mind abuzz and horny. It drove Diana mad as she was unable to reach out and grab them. Her mind willed her arms to move, but they stubbornly refused.
On occasion, when foot traffic was slow, one of the workmen would approach her. Usually egged on by his fellow workers he would do something completely inappropriate and debasing to Diana’s affixed form. Far from feeling violated, it was then that Diana prayed the most earnestly for Aphrodite to have them continue their carnal ministrations. But each time the man would stop just before Diana would find her own release. No matter what had been done to her, no matter what was dripping from her back or face, and no matter how they cleaned her she could not be brought to orgasm.
The haze of constantly building sexual desire was maddening. Diana had no idea how much time had actually passed since Midas had transformed her; it could have been weeks, it could have been hours. Her mind was in a mixed cloud of eroticism and prayers to Aphrodite when suddenly a familiar voice broke through to the auric woman.
Had the golden statue been able to look up she would have, but instead she had to wait for Fortuna to kneel down before her.
Fortuna! Diana cried out, Oh, thank Aphrodite for sending you!
The newly arrived prostitute seemed to smile at the golden statue. Fortuna was blessed with an hourglass body and large full breasts that were the envy and desire of many. Diana felt her neighbor holding her hands and she was certain her salvation had arrived.
But the thought was short lived.
Diana could tell by the other woman’s face that her concern was not really for her. Confused at first, the golden whore took closer notice of Fortuna’s fingers moving around her own and realized that what she thought was her friend’s comforting grip was in fact a way to palm the rings from her hands. Midas’ sneeze had turned them into valuable baubles, and Fortuna’s smile was not because she had found her friend, but because she had discovered the pocketable gold. As soon as the trinkets had been removed Fortuna stood and backed away from the woeful woman.
You bitch! Diana screamed, You selfish bitch!
“Yes, she tried to use one of her scarves to protect herself, but as you see the king’s sneeze still reached her,” Diana heard Phiteus somewhere in the background, his voice filled with exhausted frustration. It suddenly became clear that Fortuna’s presence was simply as the next whore in line for Midas, and Phiteus was giving her the same prep talk Diana had received.
He promised you my gold! Diana fumed as she watched her former friend walk away from her. Mighty Aphrodite, may Fortuna receive her gold as I have!
A little while later Diana saw Fortuna’s frozen golden nude form placed in the hallway with her, crouched similarly to how Diana was.
She didn’t know what to think. She could see that Fortuna had been successful; Midas’ seed was still dripping from her chin down to her pert and perfect breasts. Her face also had a smug grin, clearly anticipating her achievement and imagining her wealth without thinking about what would happen when Midas came. Diana was thrilled that this was the expression Fortuna would wear for all eternity; a stupid look of victory plastered across her face as Fortuna’s mind continued to real at what her success had brought her. Diana reveled at the idea of this woman staring back at her, knowing the pilfered golden rings were hidden somewhere in her now useless discarded clothes, understanding that Diana’s mind must be trapped in her golden prison as her own was. Diana wondered what was running through the newly minted statue’s mind right now.
While she could only ponder Fortuna’s thoughts, Diana knew what was on her own mind. She had specifically asked Aphrodite to grant her fellow whore such a fate, and it had befallen her.
But Diana did not feel any guilt for the backstabbing friend’s frozen form.
Instead, she wondered if she had wasted her one opportunity to request a favor from her patron goddess by damning someone else to an auric eternity, instead of freeing her from her own.
The thought was soon lost amongst Diana’s insatiable sexual stress as the workers found a pair of metal beauties with which to pleasure themselves.
Tune in next week for the conclusion!