Death's Handmaiden

Posted by Acroyear on May 12, 2006 at 11:49:50:

Hey all.

Saw a picture of a very neat statue. It was of a woman who was chained by one leg to the gound, her arms tied behind her back. Another chain led from a collar around her throat.

And behind her, his arms around her, was the Grim Reaper. He hand one bony hand on her left breast, the other between her legs. It was quite a lovely bit of art... that had a nice balance of horror and eroticism... you could just imagine how terrified she would have been, yet her expression was also done well enough that you could imagine that (perhaps to her own shock) she was some how enjoying some of what was happening.

That led to a discussion of why I liked it so much with Tala, and a sudden inspiration for a story. So she told me to put my money where my mouth was and write it ... LOL.

So here is the Prologue and the Part One. More to come soon. I PROMISE! LOL.

The fighting had begun in the first light of dawn… and the sun was now setting as the Athenian’s walked the field, looking for the living among their own comrades, and finishing off those, both Athenian and Spartan, who were suffering greatly yet could not be saved. The Spartan’s were doing the same across the field, for the battle had surged back and forth several times, leaving the dead and wounded strewn across the trampled earth.

It was truly not possible to tell who had won this fight, for both lines of fighters were ragged and exhausted… and there were far more men lying dead in the field than stood at either end of it. And neither side seemed to be in command of the battlefield… it was as if both sides had mutually pulled back after fighting for this barren strip of blood soaked land to very nearly the last man.

One hoplite fell to his knees and tore off his helmet, a horrible wail coming from his throat as he pulled the body of one fallen soldier into his arms. He pulled the man to his chest and began weeping pitiably. The dead soldier was much younger than the man holding him, and his face had a harrowing expression of the agony and terror that were his last seconds.

The man raised his face to the sky, and in a broken voice asked a question that had been asked on every battlefield before, and would be asked on every battlefield after.

“Why!? Why him and not me?! Why my son?! Why him and not me?!” he cried to the darkening sky, his voice holding nearly as much rage as grief.

But unlike so many before him, the grieving father would actually receive an answer.

The air beside him seemed to shimmer, like heat from sun warmed stone, and then beside him stood a man who was not a man.

He was very tall, with arms and shoulders that would have done credit to a bull. He was covered head to foot in armor… but armor that gleamed and glittered in the waning sunlight as if it had been dipped in silver. A dazzling array of weapons were strapped to various places on the armor… so many that they should have crippled his movements and made it impossible to stand for the weight and bulk of it all, let alone be able to fight and defend himself.

Yet when he reached up to pull off his helmet, graced by feathers as white as the snow atop Olympus, he moved easily and as if the weapons that coated him weighed nothing at all. He went easily to one knee, the armor smoothly flexing and moving with him, and placed a hand upon the grieving fathers shoulder. The face beneath the helmet was amazingly handsome, though stern and hard… there was no softness of any sort in that face, though it also was not cruel… just hard. It was the face of a life long soldier.

“Your son died a great hero, Lysander, his soul is now with that of Jason and all other great souls in Elysium.” The voice was deep and resonant, echoing softly around the battlefield, just as it had when he had appeared earlier and ordered both sides to stop the fighting.

The hardened warrior tried to give what comfort he could to the grieving father… knowing that while it would comfort the man, it was not enough. Lysander turned to look at the man beside him, and his eyes went wide with stunned surprise.

“Gods of my fathers,” he whispered, his grief now warring with the shock of seeing a God come to life with his own eyes. And it was not just that a God had appeared before his very eyes. There was a presence in the air… a palpable sense of power and strength that filled the space around the being.

But a father’s grief is a powerful thing, and even the presence of one of his Gods was not enough to totally break it.

“Forgive me, that is but little comfort my Lord,” Lysander said, tears still falling on the face of his child. “It is glorious to know he has a place among the hero’s, but I am not there with him my Lord… and I love my son with all my heart and soul.”

He then turned to look upon the carnage of the battlefield and for a moment the anger overcame the grief.

“And he died wastefully… this was not a fight that had to be… not a just fight for Free Men of Athens to be a part of.” Lysander turned to look at what little remained of the Spartans.

“And none can tell me my Lord why my boy is gone to the Underworld. We were told the Spartans had betrayed us and had come to raze our city to the ground.” He then pointed to the devastated lines of the Spartans, a few hundred paces across a field choked in blood and bodies.

“But from those we captured we have been told that they believed we were the betrayers… that we were marching to destroy Spartan even as we marched to save Athens. How can be both have thought such a thing at the same time… how can both our leaders have been so wrong?” His haunted eyes looked over the legions of dead. “This was not a just fight my Lord…” and his voice trailed as he once more bowed his head to his son, sobbing with his grief. “Why my Lord… why did you allow this war to happen?”

At just about anytime in the past, such words would have angered the mighty immortal being that knelt beside his grieving follower. He saw the proving of ones prowess in war as justification enough for any fight… but the grieving mortal was correct. Zeus himself had ordered him to the mortal world to actually stop this war. He had not even known of this war, so distracted had he been by what he now had to admit was his petty fight with Herakles.

Father was correct… this foolishness between all the Gods must stop, before it was too late, before the mortal world was utterly consumed.

He was about to speak to the grieving man when Lysander suddenly stiffened. His eyes went wide and his mouth fell open to release a startled gasp. Without another word or sound, he suddenly slumped over the body of his child… quite dead.

Ares eyes widened in surprise. This was far from the first man who had died near the God of War… he had witnessed the deaths of countless mortal warriors. But God that he was, Ares knew that this man had not died of wounds… his life had just suddenly been snuffed out like a candle.

This should not be!

He looked up and around at the surviving warriors of the Athenians. Here and there men were suddenly dropping where they stood, much to the terror and alarm of those around them. Not all of them… only a few of them in fact… but each and everyone were men who had survived the battle Ares had brought to a halt. Yet each was now dead upon the ground.

A terrible, angry suspicion began to grow in Aries and he yanked one of the various swords on his belt, brandishing it before him and bellowing to the sky.

“HADES!!!!! Show yourself you arrant coward! These mortals are under my protection… they are not yours to take.”

Directly between the remains of the two armies, in the very middle of the carnage, the oncoming night seemed to gather itself. Dark tendrils of mist quickly gathered into a whirling chaos of darkness that just as quickly resolved itself into a figure in a flowing robe and cowl. The cape was speckled with red flecks and small white points… as if the night itself had made the cloak and cowl.

The Athenians cried out in fear, yet they also almost immediately formed into a phalanx, shields up, spears at the ready, though each and everyone of the spears shook in the hands of the hardened warriors. Across the battlefield the surviving Spartans were also getting into formation.

The figure had its back to Ares, and with a casualness that spoke of contempt for the power that had summoned it, the figure flexed its shoulder to shake the robe into place, tugging at the shoulders until it was settled. Then, only then, did the figure turn to confront the enraged God of War.

“Hades? Hades is a puling dog that serves my purpose little Godling... he does what he does by my will … mine and none other Ares.” The voice was smoothly cultured, in a pleasant baritone. At the moment however, that voice was dripping with contempt. It almost sounded bored.

The cloak appeared to conceal a powerful man for the shape of a tall and strong male body could be seen outlined in the folds. But there was no body… at least not above the next, nor at the wrists. A barred skull, bleached as white as driving snow was all that could be seen. The eye sockets were as empty as last years birds nest and the barred teeth showed in a permanent grin, the teeth perfect and white. Two skeletal hands protruded from the voluminous sleeves, and the arms were as bare of flesh when those hands reached up to pull back the cowl, revealing the bare skull completely.

“You?! What place do YOU have interfering here? Your charge is to winnow the chaff so that my father may sort the worthy from the damned.” Ares sounded more than just a bit surprised at the sight of the figure before him and while Ares had stood beside his father Zeus when he defeated the Titans there was an obvious wariness in his stance.

Rolling laughter, filled with amusement echoed around the battlefield, and the warriors from both sides clutched their weapons and closed ranks at the sound of it. Ares held his sword a bit tighter, though he did not back down so much as a single inch.

“I was here before Zeus’ father was spat from the Chaos. I watched when your screaming mother pushed you out from between her thighs. I was there the day your father cast out Hades and made him the keeper of the dead.” The figure laughed again, as if the last statement was even more amusing than Ares’ question had been. A skeletal hand pointed a boney finger at the God of War, and Ares brought his shield up to the ready.

“I will be here when Olympus is nothing but dust at the bottom of the oceans. I am a lynchpin of the cosmos little Godling… it is you who is interfering here. I take only those who would have died had you not stopped the battle.” The bony finger moved to point at one of the Athenians and without a sound he dropped where he was.

The Athenians on either side of him screamed in pure terror, the high hysterical pitch of men pushed beyond the endurance of courage. But bolstered by the presence of the God of War, they managed to close ranks and stand ground. And where was there to run in any case?

Ares chest swelled in his rage. “Stop the battle I did! These are MY mortals, Spirit of Obliteration, and you shall not have them before their time.” In a move that spoke volumes of the power in his limbs, Ares drove his sword into the ground, snatched up a fallen spear and in a single fluid move he hurled it at the skeletal figure in the black cloak. They stood more than 50 paces apart, but the spear crossed the distance literally in the blink of an eye.

The figure reached out a hand… in an instant the wooden shaft of the spear turned the dull color of dry rot and the head crushed over with rust. When it struck the skeletal hand it simply turned into a cloud of dust.

The figured turned back to fully face Ares now and the hand that pointed at the spear was held palm up, the fingers spread before the God of War. Ares held his ground, snapping up his shield. There was no power on Earth, not even Zeus himself, that could knock Ares down with that shield in his hand.

The shield simply shattered… exploding into hundreds of small shards. Ares was hurled from his feet, thrown a dozen paces away and tumbled over twice before coming to a bruising halt.

Ares pushed himself up to his knees, looking up in utter astonishment at the skeletal figure in the midnight cloak. Not even when he had fought the Titans at his father’s side had any being been able to fell the God of War.

Nor should Death itself have been able to take him… even Death itself should not have been possessed of such power!

Seeing the mighty God of War smashed from his feet was finally too much, even for the legendary courage of the Athenians and Spartans… they broke and ran in terror from the field.

Without responding to Ares shocked look, Death gestured towards the line of fleeing Spartans and all at once several of the men dropped as they ran.

Ares pushed himself painfully to his feet… his left arm was broken in several places from the sheer force that had hit his shield and shattered it. But still he pulled another sword from the array of weapons and moved towards the apparition of Death itself.

“Stop!! This is not right! You have no right to those lives!!” He bellowed at the top of his lungs, and it echoed from the surrounding hills.

Death turned to face the enraged wounded God, and while the skull did not change in the slightest, Ares had the distinct impression Death was grinning at him.

“I could just as easily have taken them all you know… and you would have been just as powerless to stop me. I only took those who would have died in this battle had you not changed the weave of fate with your interference.” Then for the first time there was some emotion other than a bored amusement at Ares helpless rage.

The emotion was anger.

“I show a restraint that you and yours have never shown… I could take them all if I wished… each and everyone… but I have not. When have you and yours ever denied yourselves anything?” The baritone was tight with a quiet rage, and Ares felt his blood go cold as the empty eyes of the skull bore into his own.

He did not run, nor even step back… but for one of the few times in his millennia of existence the God of War felt fear prickle up his spine.

“Still, you have been responsible for sending more mortals into my arms than almost any other… I suppose I can be magnanimous for now.”

Death looked from one fleeing set of soldiers to the other… and for a moment the world itself seemed to hold its breath. But no more of the soldiers fell down dead… they were allowed to live to fight another day.

Death turned back to Ares, who despite his pain stood ready for a fight. “Well, at least you do have real courage little Godling… I have oft times wondered about that.”

The anger Ares had felt in the specter before him seemed to fade away, though Ares was sure it was indeed still there. The low amusement returned to the baritone voice.

“Fair thee well God of War… until we meet again. My respects to your father.” And with that the swirl of night and mist returned and when it faded, the specter was gone.

Ares dropped to his knees, cradling his shattered arm, true fear percolating through him now that he could allow it to.

How? Death has no malice… no anger… no feelings of any kind. It was a force… as Death itself had said it was a lynchpin of the cosmos itself… what… what could have so changed?

And by Zeus’ Beard… how had Death achieved the power to dismiss him with a wave of his hand?

Beside him the air once again shivered like heat haze, only this time there were two hazy patches that faded to reveal two striking women.

The taller of the two was dressed in a variety of leathers and furs. Her left arm was bare, and that arm was quite heavily muscled. At her hip was quiver filled with arrows and strapped across her back was a bow of incredibly beautiful craftsmanship. The bow was also massive… a very strong man would have had difficulty drawing such a weapon. She had long red hair that somehow managed to be both wild and beautiful all at once. Her face was beautiful, though her eyes were flashing with anger as she bent to the wounded Ares.

“Brother… what happened to thee?” Her voice was filled with anger, and it echoed and rumbled around the battlefield like some strange high pitched thunder.

The other was shorter, with hair incredible dark black. She was dressed rather strangely… she was dressed in the finest of classic Greek fashion, a soft wrap of light cotton. Yet over that she wore sculpted armor that greatly resembled that which Ares wore, though of a lighter design, and made to fit a female body. Her face was very calm as she helped the other woman get Ares to his feet, and her eyes shone not with anger, but with an immense intellect. She took in the entire scene, seemingly summing up the entire situation with a single look. She too had a shield and sword, though she sheathed the sword and strapped the shield to her back to help steady the much taller Ares.

“Calmly Artemis… we will learn little if we let rage overcome reason.” Her voice was as calm and measured as that of the other woman was enraged. Artemis snapped her a angry look, but with obvious effort swallowed whatever it was she wanted to say.

“Athena… Artemis… what… how,” Ares gasped in pain as the shattered bones in his arm ground together.

“Father sent us,” Artemis said, putting her brothers good arm around her shoulders and holding up his weight with ease. “Hades refused to come when father summoned him, and he sent us to gather you and go make our uncle obey the will of Zeus.” Artemis reached into one of the folds of her leathers and pulled out a cloth that was so dazzlingly white it seemed to glow slightly in the gathering gloom. She began to bind Ares arm with it, and after a single harsh grunt of pain, his expression immediately relaxed.

“That should hold thee until we can get you to Damia and have her heal thy arm.”

While Artemis tended to Ares, Athena gathered the shattered splinters of Ares shield, her fine eyebrows showing only a hint of surprise at how badly it had been damaged. She then retrieved the sword he had trust into the ground, tucking it into her own belt. If the massive weight of the sword gave her any pause, she didn’t show it.

Then she stopped by the body of Lysander, and her calm vanished in an expression of true surprise. She put one hand on his body, and that hand snapped back as if burned. For an instant there was a hint of fear on her face before that calm consideration returned. She stood for sometime looking down on the body, and then around at the other bodies scattered around the field.

She walked up to her brother and sister, looking into their yes. “Quite obviously we have something far more important to tell father… and perhaps even an explanation as to why Hades refused to come to fathers summons.”

She made a small gesture and the air before the three Gods shimmered. “Let us go… I don’t believe we have time to waste.” She stepped through the shimmer and vanished, only one hand held out to help Artemis guide Ares through. The moment they had stepped through, the shimmer vanished.

Leaving only the scattered dead, their faces mutely begging asking why they were dead.

With every fiber of her being Elissa tried to cry out, to scream with all the strength in her body, but the silk cloth wrapped tightly across the lower part of her face prevent it. She was not truly gagged… at least then she might have been able to work her jaw. But the smooth silk had been carefully and expertly wrapped around her throat, her jaw, and then up around her head, complete pinning her jaw closed. Only a faint muffled wail escaped her tightly bound jaws. She would have given almost anything to let out the cry she so wanted to give! It was a torture to not be able to let it out.

And of course that only served to drive her excitement all that much higher. As did the blindfold across her eyes, the ropes that bound her wrists and held her arms stretched painfully above her head and those that bound her ankles spread far apart.

Between her legs, she could feel the smooth blonde curls on the Gods’ head brushing her thighs and mound as his tongue teased her clitoris and cunt into soaking, fiery life. Over and over, around and within… alternately delving deeply within her womanhood before returning to lap at her labia and her now terribly inflamed clit. His powerful hands were beneath her ass, her fingers dug painfully into her buttocks, pushing her even harder against his face.

Over and over he had brought her to the very edge of orgasm… only to pull back, completely leaving the bed so that she could not even feel the weight of his body nearby. And now he was doing it again. She wanted so much to scream her frustration and agony… and the incredible pleasure that was coursing through every fiber of her being.

She had already cum three times… over the course of how long she did not know. He had used his fingers, his tongue, his lips and his cock on her body… all over her skin, between her breasts, across her nipples and deep within her cunt. She was now soaring and flying… but she was also burning with the need to cum. He had taken her to a high fever pitch over the first three orgasms, each more shattering then the last. Her heart was hammering and she could hear her blood pounding in her ears as her lungs pumped like a bellows.

Elissa howled against the silk… begging to be allowed to cum. From just beside her ear she heard a low, delighted chuckle.

Dionysus was enjoying this loving torture… perhaps even more than she was. And so far he had not yet had his own orgasm… his control was phenomenal, even for one of the Gods. Most only knew him as the God of the Grape… a wild, drunken, foolish reveler… more fool they. They had no inkling of what they were missing.

“Ah no, my beauty… not quite yet… not just yet,” he whispered in her ear at the same moment she felt the bed shift slightly. She could feel the heat of him beside her… though he did nothing to stimulate her, allowing her flaming passion to bank back down to smoldering embers. When Elissa’s breathing was closer to normal, the God finally touched her again. She gave a muffled cry of joy as his fingers teased her soaking, swollen labia for a moment before reaching down and freeing her ankles for the first time since he had first carried her to his bed.

Elissa groaned in pain as he pulled her legs together… they were not only stiff from being bound for so long, but she had been straining and stretching against the ropes that entire time, unable to hold still in the torment and pleasure he had sent singing through he body. Her muscles were not at all happy with her. Once her legs were together he looped the rope around both ankles, and also far up her calves, looping it over and over, pulling another cry from her as he pulled the coils tight.

His weight shifted again and he untied her arms from the rope holding them taunt over her head… but he did not free her wrists… those remained tightly bound. Chuckling again at the frustrated moan that came from her covered mouth, he pulled Elissa around so that she was now across the width of the bed. That was not that significant however… Dionysus’ bed was massive, larger than many a peasants entire hovel. He left her on her back, moving down her body again until she felt another rope cinched around her ankles and then secured.

When he pulled her forward so that her head hung over the side she knew what was coming. And even though her fever pitch of near orgasmic excitement eased, she was not disappointed. He pulled her arms taunt and then down, securing them to someplace on the floor. Her back was arched, her breasts up thrust, her mound and pussy arched as well. The position pulled her body as painfully taunt and helpless as she was before. As delightfully helpless and taunt as before.

She could feel his nearness as he stood over her head, smell the musky maleness of him, and feel the heat coming from him. For all the control Dionysus possessed she knew that she had excited him.

A strong hand pulled down the silken mask that covered her jaw, finally freeing her mouth. Elissa took a deep breath in through her mouth, letting it out in a low, breathy moan. Above her, still unseen, Dionysus also made a small noise, and Elissa knew that his cock was directly in front of her lips. She took another deep breath, and blew a long gently breeze from between her lips. She smiled when another low growl of pleasure came from somewhere above her.

When she pursed her lips again, she was the one who gave a small moan of pleasure as the tip of Dionysus’ cock was brushed across her lips.

Elissa knew many (even among the women and men who served here on Olympus with the Gods) who disliked… even despised… using their mouth on a cock.

But Elissa? Elissa loved it. To her it was one the most intimate and cherished acts that one could give to one’s lover… and one of the most enjoyable for herself as well. And it was not just how much it pleased the man she was with… she loved doing it for herself as well.

The feel of a man in her mouth, where he started soft and small… so small that she could often take all of him in, even his balls… then feel the change in texture, in the sensation of it. And that sensation! The skin so soft; only a woman’s labia were softer… and that not by much. Yet once he was hard, once he reached tumescence, the muscle beneath that skin was harder and stronger than any bicep could hope to be.

She loved the feel of it as a male pushed his cock down her throat… the sensation as she swallowed, her throat gripping it and pulling at it. There was a deep satisfaction in that as well, that she could take him so deep… though she was not always able to do so.

And she delighted… utterly delighted… in the pleasure that it brought to the man she was satisfying with her mouth and her throat.

Elissa loved it… it wasn’t so much the thought of Dionysus using her mouth that tightened things low in her body as it was the thought of how much pleasure it would give them both to pour himself down her throat.

It was an incredibly intimate act… and she loved the feel of that intimacy.

Dionysus ran the tip of his cock across her lips, hard enough already that it had emerged from his foreskin. He was already well beyond half hard, and with his control that was sign of just how much he now wanted to cum. He was not a man, he was a God… he could cum several times in a row if he wished. But he loved most to deny himself… to let it build and build as he brought the women he had chosen over and over again.

She sucked with her lips at the very tip, nibbling ever so lightly with her teeth and hearing Dionysus gasp.

“Wicked child,” he whispered, though his voice was delighted.

Dionysus pushed slowly forward. But he did not push his cock between her lips; instead he ran the head all around her face, both on her exposed cheeks and chin and along her blindfolded eyes. She could hear his breathing growing faster as he did so.

“Beg child… beg for the cock of your God down your throat,” he said, his voice no longer a whisper.

“Please Master,” she immediately whispered, the passion and want in her voice not the slightest bit faked for his amusement. “Please use my mouth… let me feel your cock in my mouth… cum in my mouth Master. Please.”

She more felt than heard him move closer, could smell the musky maleness closer. The tip of his cock touched her lips again, and she opened her mouth wide to receive him.

Elissa had lain with Dionysus more times than she was able to count… yet still to take him in was always a challenge… not jus for the length of him, but the width… he was huge. He did not immediately plunge into her mouth, and she flicked her tongue across the head and the incredible softness of his foreskin. It was incredibly soft… she had no words for the fineness of it.

He did not push within… he ran the length of it across her lips and chin so that his balls ran across her mouth. She sucked first one and then the other into her mouth, loving the weight and the feel of them… and the deep moan than came for Dionysus throat. Within moments he was as hard and rigid as it was possible to be.

And finally he could hold back no longer, no matter how much the God might love teasing her, he had to take her mouth. Elissa opened her jaw wide once more, and he pushed the thick heavy length of his cock into her mouth. She closed her lips around him, pulling him between her lips.

It was like sucking on silk… silk that happened to be warm and muscled and alive. The sensation of the soft skin and the hardness of him made Elissa cry out with him in her mouth, which made Dionysus cry out, and arch above her, pushing more of him into her mouth.

Though it caused her arms to twinge Elissa arched her neck and body even further so that he could slide into her mouth, down her throat, arching her neck so that she could take every thick silken inch of him between her lips, her teeth and then deeper.

She choked as he tried to go deeper, a hard gag… and he held it right there. She gagged again, then again… and again. Tears gathered beneath the blindfold, and both her arms and legs pulled painfully as her stomach arched hard on each gag. But she also heard Dionysus moan loudly as she did. Two, three more times she gagged before he relented and pulled back.

She gasped slightly, pulling air back in before he once again slid forward… that wonderfully silky slither. Carefully but steadily, he pushed himself deeper as Elissa arched and moved her throat until finally she was able to take him… all the way in. She felt the incredibly thick head slide past her tongue and then the wonderful sensation as he slid down her throat.

Strong hands reached down to hold the sides of her face, holding her still until she felt the hard muscles of his thighs on either side of her face as the hands pulled away and the soft skin of his balls caressed and tickled her nose.

He was in her mouth… all the way in her mouth. She cried out her pleasure, and it was muffled by the sweet flesh in her mouth. Dionysus cried out, pressing himself even deeper and harder against her face. Elissa swallowed, pulling hard on the cock in her throat, moaning again at the feel of it. She continued to swallow and suck on the length of it as with another growl of pleasure, Dionysus pulled back until just the tip of his cock remained in her mouth.

She teased that tip, licking and sucking on it, tasting the salty tang as a thick drop of his pre-cum oozed out onto her tongue.

“Now my beauteous child… now… take your God and swallow his cock,” Dionysus voice was filled with tension and need now. Elissa had the angle now and as he slid back between her lips, she took the entire length of him without choking, the head plunging deeply down her throat.

Dionysus growled deep in his throat as he began to pump his thick, hot shaft in and out of Elissa, fucking her mouth and throat.

Elissa couldn’t hold it back, she screamed in pleasure against the cock in her throat, causing the God to cry out as well. It was wonderful… so intimate and powerful and so incredibly good for them both. She could feel every single plunge within her body. Warm muscled silk in and out of her mouth, caressing her lips, her teeth, gliding along her tongue and then finally down her throat. Filling her mouth and throat, blocking out her cries and moans, but eliciting deeper and louder ones from Dionysus as she licked and sucked and swallowed, over and over and over. She had to carefully time her breathing with the thrusts, and more than once her lungs began to burn before Dionysus would pull his cock from her throat.

Ellis felt his angle change slightly and she adjusted her throat to match, not quite choking on the first two or three different thrusts. Then she felt powerful hands cup her breasts and a heavy weight come down on them, his powerful fingers digging in slightly, the rough palms pressing hard against her nipples.

Then with amazing grace and suppleness, he bent lower until once more his head was between her legs. His hands were trapped beneath his own body, his weight adding to the pressure of his hands on her breasts, making it even harder for her to draw air when her throat was not filled with cock.

Elissa screamed once more, a high hard scream of pain and pleasure mixed as the God took her inflamed clit between his lips and nipped it hard with his teeth. He cried out as well for his cock was shoved deeply down her throat and her scream shivered up the length of him.

He began to lap and lick at her clit and along the outer edges of her labia. He could not truly penetrate her with his tongue… her bound legs prevented him getting he head between them, but the lovingly tortured her clit and labia. His hands were still on her breasts, and his full weight was bearing down on her chest, alternately squeezing them painfully and then caressing them gently.

Elissa moaned deeply, feeling her body tighten and harden, her pussy quiver and squeeze. And in turn she lapped and sucked, swallowed and pulled on the cock that slid from her lips to her throat and then back again… in an every quickening and more forceful rhythm.

Soon he was pounding into her mouth, long hard fast strokes, his weight pushing down hard on her face and her breasts. She could hardly draw air at all, and soon her chest was burning with need, and a soft and rather pleasurable dizziness made soft swirls of colors against her blindfolded eyelids.

Her clit was screaming… far far too sensitive to stand the slightest touch, but sending hard shocks of pleasure sizzling up her spine. Her pussy was at a white boil, and it was as if small flames were dancing up her body from that point the join the ones in her throat.

It was as if his cock began to beat in and out of her mouth to the deep pounding of her own heart. He was pulsing in her mouth, filling her with hot thrusts of pleasure that set her writhing under his weight and sucking at the hot hard silk in her mouth and throat. Her chest arched against his weight as her lungs heaved, trying to force out the trapped burning air… he was no longer pulling out enough to let her breath… her head was truly beginning to spin. But still she continued to swallow and pull on the thick cock in her throat.

She was close… so very, very close…

Dionysus nibbled and lapped at her clit, then once again bit down on it. With a howling scream that was stifled by the pumping maleness lodged in her mouth and throat Elissa tumbled over the edge and came. Behind her blindfolded eyes an entire cosmos of multi-colored stars suddenly sprang into life.

She arched hard up against his weight, her body convulsing with the shatter pleasure that shot through her, her throat convulsively swallowing as if she wanted to pull that cock from his body and swallow it completely.

Two, three more hard thrusts, and with a roar that echoed all around the room, the God came in her mouth. He pushed his cock in as far as he possibly could, shoving his crotch hard into her face as his hands dug painfully into her breasts. His cock swelled… once… twice… and then his cum splashed into her greedily swallow throat.

He poured hot and thick down her throat, and she swallowed the salty power of it, felt the hot thick slither of it down her throat and into her body. His cum and her own orgasm burned through her body in a long, hot, wet wave. He filled her throat in several long hot pulses, his cock swelling with each hot spurt of his seed.

At the end, as the force of it ebbed, Dionysus pulled back from her throat, allowing her to feel the thick pumping of his cock in her mouth, and the pure taste of him on her tongue… thick and hot and salty as it coated her tongue and the roof of her mouth.

Dionysus groaned and grunted, growled and gasped under his breath as she milked his seed from him, their mutual orgasm long and drawn out until finally she sank exhausted back to the bed, his weight coming off her as his body straightened up but he also sank to his knees. His cock was finally pulled form her mouth, and she felt hot droplets of cum drip along her lips and chin and a final splash slide slickly across her still arched throat.

Elissa gasped loudly… her lungs finally expelling the air that was now fire in her lugs. She panted heavily, the lights behind her eyes and the dizziness slowly fading, her body utterly limp with the languid afterglow of their shared pleasure. She licked cum from her lips, swallowing the last precious drops that he had given to her.

“Thank you My Lord,” she gasped when finally she could speak, listening to his own pants from above her.

“Oh no child… thank you… thank you,” he said quietly, but with great pleasure in his voice.

He finally pulled the blindfold from her eyes and for a moment her eyes were dazzled. He quickly unfastened the ropes that held her wrists and pulled her up to a sitting position, kneeling on the bed behind her, putting his arms around her, pulling her hard against his powerful body. Her legs still bound, he turned her head and for a timeless moment the God and his slave shared a long, tender kiss, though even their passion had finally been spent, and the kiss was simply a sign of the tender affection that was bubbling through them both.

She snuggled into his arms, putting her arms over his that were now crossed over her belly. Utterly exhausted… completely satiated… she quickly drifted off into a weary sleep.

Only to be shaken gently awake far too short a time later.

“Come Elissa,” Dionysus said in his deep voice. “My sister is here to take thee away.”

Elissa opened eyes that quite simply did not want to open and looked blearily around, trying to focus with only limited success. Oh… but she was sooooooooo tired. It was a wonderful languorous tired… but still she still felt exhausted.

At some point in her sleep Dionysus had undone all her bonds, leaving her naked in his bed. Naked, and bruised, and scratched and quite disheveled. She sighed softly, not really complaining… it wouldn’t do any good in any case… and struggled to focus her eyes and wake up enough to get up out of the oh so comfortable bed.

“Brother, you didn’t use the poor woman’s body through the entire night did you?” The smooth calm tones came from the dazzling dawn sunlight that spilled through the door to Dionysus’ bed chambers. A woman’s figure could just barely be seen silhouetted against that blinding light.

Dionysus was quite obviously partially in his cups… which was not at all unusual for him of course… he must have started drinking the moment he finished undoing her bonds. He looked over at Elissa and giggled like a little girl.

“No, as a matter of fact I didn’t,” he said before giggling again. “I used her the entire afternoon and then through the night.”

The female figure stepped through the door and finally away from the sun and Elissa’s tired eyes were able to make out Athena’s beautiful face and figure. She was dressed very simply for one of the Olympians; in a long silken robe of a rich purple color, cut to drape perfectly along her figure. A single golden cord served as her belt.

“I let her sleep for a full hour before you arrived,” Dionysus said, as if that should have been more than enough.

Oh dear, thought Elissa, no wonder she felt so awful.

“My Lady,” she said with deep respect, attempting to get out of the bed, though her legs simply refused to respond like they should and complained most severely.

Athena held up her hand. “No,” she said with a deep sigh, “stay where you are Elissa.” She then turned to her brother, with a single raised eyebrow.

No longer the alluring Master of the Orgasm… now the Lord of the Grape… Dionysus looked quite petulant for a moment before grinning engagingly and shrugging.

“Well, I certainly didn’t hear her complaining at the time.”

Athena’s face remained calm, though her eyes snapped a bit. “And would that be because you gagged her?” But the Warrior Goddess and Goddess of Wisdom did not really expect, nor did she get, an answer.

“Never mind brother… it truly doesn’t matter. However, I have need of her.” Athena glanced around the room, one brow slightly raised, her wise knowing eyes obviously looking for something. Finally she gave up and turned to her brother. “Well… where do you keep it?”

Dionysus walked a bit unsteadily across the room to a mirror… but a most unusual one. It was completely black, as if the mirror was reflecting a completely dark room. He reached out, steadying himself with one hand on the edge of the mirror. He ran the fingers of the other hand over the surface and then he simply pushed his hand into the mirror… as if it actually were a pool of ink into which he dipped his hand.

He reached well into it, a thoughtful expression on his face as his arm moved back and forth until his face lit with a smile and he pulled his arm back out. In his hand was a dark green glass bottle without label or mark of any kind. He looked puzzled for a moment, then shook his head and pushed it back through the surface. He rummaged around in it again for a moment, then smiled once more and retrieved another bottle. This one was as black as the surface of the mirror, and he started at with a startled expression before suddenly thrusting it back within the mirror.

“I don’t remember making that one,” he muttered, once more poking around in the depths of the mirror. Athena’s face remained completely calm, though she did let out a single soft sigh as a third bottle was pulled from the depths of the mirror. This one was an earthenware jug, a bit pitted and with one of its two handles broken off.

A startled yet delighted expression broke out on Dionysus face. “Well, well… I thought I had lost you my lovely,” he said with great pleasure. He pulled the cork from the jug with his teeth and inhaled deeply through his nose. His eyes closed and he gave a moan almost as filled with pleasure as the ones he had given with his cock in Elissa’s throat. He shoved the cork back in with his teeth and carefully set the bottle on a table beside the mirror. He turned, and spotting a pewter cup on a nearby table started striding towards it before Athena finally spoke.

“Brother, while I actually do have forever in which to wait,” she pointed towards Elissa, “she was supposed to be ready at dawn.” Her voice was still calm, but there was a small hint of impatience’s in it. “I gave you a full decanter of it not quite a century ago.”

Dionysus started, as if he had forgotten his sister Athena was there.

“Yes, yes… of course… sorry,” he muttered, turning to grope one more time in the mirror’s depths. He spent several moments this time, his hand moving slower. He began to look annoyed as well as puzzled. “Now I know I put that in here som…” he started to say when his hand suddenly stopped.

“AH HA! I knew it was here,” said in triumph and pulled from the mirror a glass amphora of incredibly delicate construction. Even with all her years on Olympus, Elissa had never seen so beautiful and seemingly fragile a decanter. It was shaped like a swan, the wings thrust back to form the handle, the body was the actual vessel, and the long neck of the swan ended in a slightly parted mouth that was the spout. The decanter was so delicate that Elissa was sure that the handle must snap and the glass shatter simply from the weight of the liquid.

Within the slightly frosted glass, a honey colored liquid seemed to actually glow slightly as it swirled around the vessel. While she had never seen any quite that color, Elissa was sure that it could be only one thing. Ambrosia.

“There you go sister,” Dionysus said, handing over the beautiful vessel. Athena took it carefully, carrying it back over to where Elissa was still struggling to get out of the bed and show the Gods some proper respect.

Athena used one hand on Elissa’s back to help her sit up, her slim arm showing an amazing amount of strength if one were not used to it… which Elissa was.

“Hold back your head Elissa, and open your mouth wide.” Athena said it gently, but it was an order. Quite obviously Elissa had been wrong… whatever was in the beautiful decanter was not Ambrosia if they were giving it to her.

Elissa did as she was told and with utmost care Athena carefully tipped the decanter so that a single drop of the golden glowing liquid fell into her open mouth.

Elissa sucked in her breath in a loud gasp.

Fire!

She was on fire!

The instant the liquid had hit her tongue it was as if she had just swallowed flame! It flashed across her tongue and down her throat to her stomach and from there in a wave that went all the way to her fingers and toes.

The gasp had filled her lungs with air and in the instant she was about to let it all out in an agonized howl for the snarling pain that shot through her body… it was gone.

And then it was as if sunlight had been poured down her throat and filled her entire body… a deep radiant warmth that suffused her entire being. She rose to her feet… not of her will, and not with her muscles. She simply rose straight up into the air until only the very tips of her toes were brushing the coverings of the bed. Her back arched and her arms spread wide, her head tossed back as the scream of utter agony that she was about to let loose came out as a long soft exhalation of gratification.

As she sighed, a long curl of golden flame spiraled from between her lips along with a small cloud of white vapor that vanished like breath on a cold day. Slowly her body settled back to the bed, though as her feet touched the coverings her abused, disobedient legs were suddenly as strong as steady as they had ever been.

She felt refreshed… completely refreshed, as if she had rested for hours and then just had an excellent meal.

“Oh My Lady, thank you. That was wonderful,” Elissa whispered reverently to the Goddess, bowing deeply to her.

Athena’s calm face had the smallest hint of a smile. To Elissa’s surprise, Athena put the tip of the decanter in her own mouth and tipped it high, her throat working as she took several long swallows of the golden liquid. Athena’s eyes closed and her expression of satisfaction was quite lovely to behold.

It was Ambrosia! Athena had given her Ambrosia! Only a drop… but in all her years here, she had never before been allowed so much as a single drop of it.

Athena lowered the decanter, and she too gave a long exhale, pursing her lips and blowing gently. The long curl of golden flames that spilled from her mouth formed for the briefest of moments the figure of a dancing girl before they faded away with the white vapor. Athena smiled one of her few rare open smiles before returning to the calm intelligence that Elissa was used to.

“A delightful distillation… even if I do say so myself.” Athena looked from Elissa to her brother, raising one eyebrow towards him. Whatever unspoken question she asked, Dionysus simply shrugged and nodded.

Athena did not surrender the decanter back to Dionysus, but handed it to Elissa, who carefully cradled the fragile looking object in her arms. If Dionysus minded his sister taking back her gift, he said nothing.

“You will gather her possessions and send them along my brother?” The Goddess asked Dionysus.

He gave a vague gesture already pouring a dark amber liquid from the earthen war jug into the pewter goblet. Even from across the room Elissa could smell the strong scent of whatever the spirit was… and it did have a quite pleasant scent.

Athena’s expression did not change, though she did give her head a small shake as her bother took a long first gulp from the cup. “Come along Elissa, it is time to go.”

“Yes My Lady. Shall I gather my clothing?” Elissa asked the Goddess, looking around for what Dionysus might have done with her clothes.

“No. I rather prefer you in the nude,” Athena said simply, shaking her head a fraction.

The voice and face remained cool, but long familiarity with the Goddess allowed Elissa to see the heat in her eyes, and she felt her nipples harden against the warm glass of the decanter she still cradled in her arms.

With another word Athena walked out into the beautiful sunlit dawn, Elissa following demurely in her wake.