Damocles' eyes snapped open, and he slowly climbed to his feet, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the hot sun. As he straightened, drawing himself to his full height, the goddess might realise just how utterly dwarfed she was by the man's bulk. He looked upon her, trying to determine if she fell into the category of sinners to be purified. The scandalous clothing she wore certainly nudged the needle one way, but it would not be the only criterion he employed.<br/><br/>"Greetings, goddess," he said. "I am Damocles, and I am here to continue my crusade. Are you a righteous goddess, or a sinner to be punished?" he asked, getting straight to the point. Damocles dearly hoped it was the latter, as his libido remained unsatisfied by the previous encounter. He gazed upon the goddess with an imperious stare, desiring also to detect any lie that she might use to escape divine justice. His muscles tensed in anticipation, expecting to pin her down and rape the evil from her if need be. Was it his imagination, or could he detect her nipples through that thin white bikini top?