The Marble Bust - Part 1 of 2

[ma****]

Once upon a time, in a world of gods and mortals, there lived a maiden most fair. Her name was Callista, a fierce brunette with eyes like polished sapphires. From her earliest days, she could always feel the eyes of men and women following her. Her beauty became the talk of the town, and it was inevitable that the local Lord’s son would come to try and claim her as his new bride.

But when he approached, he faltered. Callista, whose name meant “most beautiful,” was not just a pretty face—her wild, untamed nature made her even more intimidating. Within moments of their meeting, the Lord’s son stormed off, his pride wounded. He had sought to dominate her, to make her little more than a pretty thing to bring out at parties, to make for him beautiful ***. And she would not have it.

Callista had spurned the most eligible bachelor in the land, and from then on, no other man dared approach her. Some believed they couldn’t match the wealth and status of the Lord’s son, while others ***ed her fiery spirit. To meet her gaze was akin to staring into the sun—blinding, searing, and impossible to hold.

Years passed, and things continued much the same. Men longed for Callista from afar, too ***ful to approach her. Some, braver than others, spied on her in secret, stealing glances of her beauty through the shadows of the night. Callista knew they watched, and she enjoyed the silent power she held over them, using her beauty and their lust as a means of control: a weapon.

But this power came at a cost, now no one could see past her exterior. Her beauty became the most impenetrable suit of protective armor. Longing for more, Callista began to unofficially host late night shows for her admirers, where she would lay within view of her open window and put on a show for those daring enough to watch. But none dared approach her unlocked door for more. None would take her, dominate her, make her theirs.

But there was one who wanted more than just midnight shows, who wanted to possess her, to do with her as he pleased. The Lord’s son, still nursing his wounded pride after all these years, had not forgiven Callista for rejecting him. Men scoffed at him behind his back—his new bride, though lovely in her own right, could not compare to Callista. They whispered that it was a wound he could never heal, especially since Callista, who refused his hand, would perform her private shows for other men through her window. It was a slight he could not bear.

Consumed by vengeance, he sought out the witch in the woods, striking a dark bargain. Returning to the village, he joined the throng of watchers once more, slipping among the men who gathered outside Callista’s window. As she disrobed, letting her clothes fall in a deliberate display, the Lord’s son muttered the curse the witch had taught him.

"May lust paralyze you as your beauty paralyzes your suitors."

In her room, Callista continued her show. Her fingers moving rhythmically, her legs spread wide for the audience to see. But as they lusted for her, and as she reached the knife’s edge of bliss, her movement suddenly stopped. Moments later, her skin grew pale and all color faded from her hair, eyes, and what little clothing still partly touched her bare skin.

A marble statue lay there, upon the bed, legs spread wide, two fingers half plunged into the open folds of its body, heaving breasts with pointed nipples aimed skyward. Her eyes stared off into the distance, her head thrown back in a moment of anticipation mixed with sudden shocked realization. It seems she understood in her last instant the nature of the curse, that she would now be trapped forever on the edge, conscious but unmoving, desperate for the looming orgasm to finally hit, and her endless entombment to finally end.

Callista had become a living, yet frozen in stone, object of sexual lust. She had lost all power, knees held wide apart with her vaginal lips on full display for the world, her swollen marble clit and erect marble nipples available for anyone to feel, to tease, to touch. And though they only felt stone, she felt everything. But nothing as much as she felt the frozen edge of the orgasm she was stuck on the precipice of.

The details of the next few days are lost to time, but what is known is that an uncharacteristically sensual marble statue joined the Lord’s private collection.

As the years passed, the statue became a symbol of both beauty and lust, passed from private collector to private collector, its provocative nature whispered about in secret circles. Eventually, as tastes shifted and the world grew more restrained, the statue was tucked away in a dark box, hidden in the basement of a museum, deemed too indecent for public display by the prudish Victorians.

For over a hundred and fifty years, Callista’s marble form remained in the darkness of a storage crate, untouched and forgotten. Until one day, a young archaeologist named Theo stumbled upon her while cataloging items donated in bulk to the museum. He stood transfixed before the statue, her form so lifelike, yet so mysteriously intimate, with defiance in her eyes despite her *** and inviting state.

Unpacking her from her crate, Theo carefully dusted off, then polished the marble, revealing its pristine shine. He placed the statue on a table in the basement where he worked, marveling at its realism. The figure was unmistakably Classical, but unlike anything he had ever seen before. No other statue from the ancient world had ever captured such explicit detail with such artistry. And yet, there was something more—something that drew Theo closer.

As he reached out, brushing his fingers against the cool marble of her bare breast, Theo could have sworn he felt a faint heartbeat beneath the surface. He was overcome by an inexplicable urge, one that seemed to bypass reason. Before he knew it, he found himself leaning in, pressing his lips against the statue’s, and he kissed her. Within moments, Callista kissed him back.

With a gasp, she began to stir, and Theo jumped back in surprise. Finally at last, it was the moment she had sought for so long. Her body bent backwards as wave after wave of pleasure hit her. All those eyes watching her, every moment of every day she had been lusted after and on full display as a statue hit her at once, every tongue on her stone clit, every penis in her stone mouth, and every blast of hot cum drying on her bare tits hit her mind at once. And in that moment, 2614 years worth of edging came to a head, as Callista came so hard her spasming, marble form buckled the wood of the table beneath her.

Theo watched in awe as her body, once frozen in time, trembled with the overwhelming orgasmic bliss.

But the moment was all too brief. As quickly as life returned to her, it seemed to fade once more. Callista’s body, now softened and serene, soon re-petrified. Her naked form, no longer trapped in the provocative pose she had been cursed into, settled into a peaceful slumber, as if finally allowed rest after millenia of ***.

When the transformation was complete, Callista lay upon the table, her new marble form no longer the figure of a lusted-after goddess but a statue of quiet grace, her expression calm and her body curled in repose. She appeared now like a classical sculpture, elegant and serene—something that would not seem out of place in any museum.

Theo, heart racing from what he had just witnessed, carefully d***d a blanket over her, shielding her from prying eyes. He moved other items around to conceal her resting form before retreating to the upper levels of the museum, determined to uncover the full story behind the woman trapped in marble.
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This story has been my attempt to make the kind of story you read in fairy tales, but graphic, sexual, and with adult themes. Part two will be posted immediately after this one. If you don't see it yet, it's still in moderation.

I hope you enjoy reading my stories as much as I enjoy writing them. Like and comment below, your encouragement is what makes me want to write more. 😘

[WK****]

I’m a book girlie and loved it. Fantasy and erotica (chef kisses). Thank you!