Hello my beautiful readers,
this website is nowhere near being ready to launch but it was the easiest way to share my Kinktober mini fics so please forgive the rest of the site being still very much under construction. You can already sign up if you want, but I won't be sending any newsletters yet.
I don't know if I will manage all 31 Kinktober prompts but I want to try for a shortie every day, so this post will get updated throughout the month.
Let me know your faves in the comments!
1. Breathplay, Ares x Hermes
Hermes took another bite of ambrosia.
"And then he choked me, you know, as part of the sport. And... it was pretty hot."
"Ah." That was all Ares said, not even looking up from polishing his spear.
"Is that weird? So I thought if Apollon is good at choking, what would it be like to be locked in your big arms?"
"What?" Now he did look up. Hermes flashed him a smile.
"I wondered if you'd be even better at choking me than Apollon."
Ares put his spear aside and stood up. He would have towered over Hermes had Hermes not been flying.
"You wanna put that to the test?"
"Are you offering?"
"Would I be asking otherwise?"
No. No he would not. Ares wasn't known for his conversational nature. When they met, it was mostly Hermes doing the talking. Getting any gossip out of him was like extracting oil from an olive, he had to push and press and squeeze. So if he asked something, it was for a purpose and the purpose was straight-forward. Hermes rubbed the unfinished ambrosia between his thighs and landed, looking up at the war god's impressive physique.
Hermes did, wondering if Aphrodite enjoyed his gruff orders or if it was her giving them to him. Ares' hand closed around his neck, hard and unyielding as a metal fetter. Hermes squirmed. His cock was already on the rise but when Ares pushed his length between his thighs he was as hard as the war god's brazen spear.
Ares didn't let him reply, pulling him back roughly by the neck and getting him into a headlock. Hermes felt the fiery eyes on him, the thick, bulging arm around his neck squeezing hard, harder than Apollon had done in their game. Apollon had choked him to win. Ares felt like he choked to kill. Hermes struggled, testing for any wriggle room. There was none. His air supply was cut off completely and he was already feeling the dizziness, leaking a few drops of pre-come in his excitement. Ares was not beating around the bush! His thrusts came hard and fast, gliding easily between his thighs. The light-headedness made Hermes giggle against the constraint. This whole setup must look pretty weird if anyone were to walk in on them. Or pretty hot? If it were Aphrodite, would she want to join...?
Ares grunted, his breaths suddenly loud and sharp in Hermes' ears. His vision became blurry? Was this the point where he-
The pressure was gone. The rush of relieved pleasure that followed his first gulp of air was indescribable. His head was spinning with ecstasy as if he had stumbled into one of the orgies of Dionysos. He reached for his cock and every touch seemed more intense. He moaned with relish as he released, realising too late that he had sprayed Ares' polished armour.
"So, uh, how did you know when to let go?" he asked, hoping Ares wouldn't notice.
"I'm not doing this the first time." Ares withdrew, releasing him.
"Well, thanks for indulging me. Byeeee!" Hermed bailed without looking back. Once Ares discovered his stained breast plate, he planned to be far, far away.
2. Rimming, Dionysos x Ariadne
The noises of the camp were dulled by the thick, red fabric of the tent. Ariadne admired her husband's ability to fall asleep even in the midst of revelry but he grew up among satyrs, maybe it shouldn't be surprising. She had cleaned up last night's indulgences and he hadn't stirred even once. He looked so very cute when he wa asleep, his dark hair spread out over the cushions, his white limbs sprawled about taking up half the space. Ariadne decided that he should at least sort out the stained cushions himself and take them to the washer women in their retinue. So she sat down by his side and gently pinched his bum.
"Up, up, get to work."
With a theatrical groan the God of Wine rolled on his back, bleary eyes opening to her voice.
"What work?" he mumbled.
Ariadne gestured around the tent.
"See how neat it is? It wasn't when we went to sleep, let me tell you."
"What are you waking me for, then?" Dionysos yawned. "You did splendidly, my love, but can't your reward wait until I'm rested?"
"My reward? I was hoping you'd at least throw out the stained cushions for a wash."
Dionysos eyed her beautiful backside.
"I have something different in mind."
He pounced on her like one of his panthers, much too elegant for someone half asleep. Ariadne yelped as his weight pushed her into the cushions.
"Don't eat me!" she pleaded playfully.
"Not you." Dionysos' dark eyes had cleared up. "But I'm gonna eat that ass."
He held her by the waist, his soft hands nice and gentle. Ariadne felt his breath against her buttocks, a kiss, then another, then his hands slipped lower, parting her cheeks. She waited in agonising anticipation. Would he...? The warm tongue she knew was well-trained by Aphrodite slid down her crack. Oh by sweet Kypria, yes! He glided over her anus, sending a shiver down her spine. He truly was a god for all pleasures. His fingers digged into her buttocks as his tongue got to work, circling the ring and sucking gently on the soft skin. Ariadne gasped, her juices beginning to flow. The caress wasn't incredibly intense, to the contrary even, but the fact that he would lick her arse was enough to make her as wet as the marshlands of his temple near Athens. His lips pressed against her, giving gentle suction and she buried her face in one of the many cushions.
"Fuck, you really go for it!" she moaned. But what else did she expect? He was the God of Pleasure. His tongue dipped against her ring and she wished he'd push in but he didn't. Instead he went back to licking the edge of her anus, nibbling on it. Oh by heavenly Aphrodite! It felt like a warm massage and now he was back to poke at the ring. She sighed.
This time, he did push in. She had half expected it to be awkward but she felt a whole new level of relaxation. She just wanted to lie here, being serviced like this. He kissed her arsehole as he fucked her with his tongue and Ariadne would have never expected she'd love this as much as she did.
"I accept the reward," she told him hoarsely. "But now I need something else from you."
He came up from between her cheeks, wiping his mouth.
"And what is that?"
"You won't have to tell me twice."
3. Sweat, Apollon x Hyakinthos
stlengís: called a strigil in Latin, is a curved blade with a handle used to scrape off dirt, sweat, and oil before bathing
Hyakinthos followed his divine boyfriend out of the palaistra where Apollon had seen to his physical education. The morning hour of exercise was his favourite, not only because athletics was where he excelled. Getting to watch Apollon in the nude, his tan, oiled skin blazing in the morning sun like a bronze sculpture, was the other plus. And by the Charites did he look breath-taking today. His long golden hair, fastened up so it wouldn't get in the way of their athletic exercise, was wet with perspiration. Hyakinthos wanted to run his fingers through the beautiful curls and lick the shimmering beads of sweat and olive oil off that sculpted chest, taste the way only Apollon tasted on the tip of his tongue...
"You did well today." Apollon stretched, drawing even more attention to his perfect body. "You're becoming an excellent athlete."
Hyakinthos mumbled words of thanks in reply, unable to take his eyes off his boyfriend. They'd scrape off the sand and go to the pool to wash and bathe until the ariston, their midday meal, was prepared. The pool was perfect for loving touches, even though Apollon was always reluctant to cloud the clear water with their seed. But Hyakinthos didn't want to wait that long. He wanted him now. If he would be able to seduce him?
Apollon had picked up the stlengís and turned towards him. It was made of gold and shaped in a way that efficiently removed dust and sweat and oil but was also pleasing to the eye. Like everything Apollon owned, it was beautiful, though not as beautiful as the god himself.
Hyakinthos looked up at the god through his dark lashes.
"What is it, my beloved?"
Hyakinthos would have loved to use eloquence and sweet words to talk his boyfriend into love's embrace. Alas, he wasn't very good at it yet. Poetry was not a priority in Spartan education. So instead he stumbled against Apollon's chest and got up on tiptoe to kiss him. The stlengís dropped to the ground. Hyakinthos wrapped both arms around his lover's neck.
"Don't you think I deserve a reward for being such an excellent athlete?"
"You seem to have something specific in mind." His large hands settled on Hyakinthos' arse. "But not here. We're both covered in dust and sweat."
"I know but-" Hyakinthos kissed his neck. "I don't care."
Here in Apollon's arms, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his warm, oiled skin, close enough to feel the humidity emnanating from every pore, here it was where he wanted to be. His kisses trailed down his boyfriend's neck, licking up salty beads of sweat and, yes, some dust and sand from the palaistra. But who cared? Not Hyakinthos, who slid his tongue over Apollon's broad chest, where the sharp savour of olive oil mixed with the salt of perspiration. Like a feast. Hyakinthos took a deep breath. Apollon always smelled fresh, often with a touch of perfume added, but Hyakinthos loved this pure, natural scent the most. Apollon had explained to him that sweat didn't smell like anything, it was only old sweat that developed an odour, which was the reason, so he said, that they had to wash it off after exercise. But Hyakinthos wished he wouldn't be so quick to get rid of it. He ran a hand down Apollon's toned arm, enjoying the slippery feel of the oiled skin beneath his fingertips, the taste of the workout on his tongue, the pure scent of Apollon in his nose.
"Fine. You'll get your way."
Hyakinthos was roughly turned by the hips and bent over the massage table.
"At least you're still oiled up."
4. Spanking, Medusa x blind girlfriend
Medusa slithered over the cold marble tiles. She was silent as she moved but not silent enough for Philainis. The blind girl turned in her seat, unable to behold Medusa and forever be turned to stone.
"You were gone for a long time," she said. "You said you were going to be quick."
Medusa moved to coil her tail around her love. The snakes she had for hair hung their heads.
"I apologise. There were travellers on the way. I meant to scare them away but..."
Like all the heroes she had encountered, these too had been turned into stone by gazing upon her.
"But they saw you." Philainis finished her sentence. She shook her pretty little head. "So we have new statues in the forest?"
"Statues we'll have to move away so people won't take note and find us?"
Philainis uncoiled her girlfriend's tail.
"You know what that means," she said, her voice dark and low.
"It means I will be punished."
A surge of anticipation woke the serpents and her head was squirming and slithering, some of the little snakes hissing at each other. Medusa bared her fangs as Philainis felt for the key around her neck.
The key turned and locked thick iron fetters around the gorgon's wrists. Philainis smiled, pleased with her work. She pulled on the chain, lifting Medusa's arms above her head, making her stand exposed and vulnerable. The girl's small hand petted one of the snakes, all of whom were wreathing with excitement.
"The snakes on your head have more sense than you do, Medusa."
"You may be right," Medusa replied, "But I couldn't just let them find our lair."
Philainis made her way towards a wooden shelf that hosted a selection of tools. Whips. Paddles. Canes. Philainis touched every one of them, feeling their properties, even though Medusa was sure she knew exactly where each one was placed.
"No. But you didn't have to kill them."
Philainis picked up a wooden paddle with small bronze spikes and knocked it against her palm a couple of times. The heavy sound echoed in the room. Medusa's eyes and the eyes of her snakes followed every move of the petite woman as she made her way back, holdng the spiked paddle like a sword.
"I didn't mean to kill them. I rarely do." Medusa knew her voice would help Philainis finding her again. In a more menacing tone she added: "But if they had lain a finger on you, I would have snapped their necks before they ever saw me."
"Is this how you are trying to talk your way out of your punishment?" Philainis gently pushed the paddle against the chains, raising Medusa's fettered arms. "Pathetic."
Medusa eyed the special toy.
"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, as if it weren't blatantly obvious.
"Knock some sense into you." Philainis grinned. She reached out, her hand gliding over Medusa's naked breasts down to her scaley tail. Her fingertips brushed over the genital slit in the gorgon's reptilian lower body, striking like lightning. Medusa squirmed.
"This will only sting a little," Philainis announced and swung the paddle. It was a lie. It stung a lot. But Medusa relished the pain. The bronze spikes added an intersting sensation to the impact but it wasn't swung hard enough to prick her thick scaley skin.
"Is this all you can do, little girl?" Medusa laughed, hoping she would hit harder.
"I'm just getting warmed up."
The paddle struck again with a smack, making her gasp. The spikes were seriously pungent this time.
"You were a bad, bad girl, Medusa." Philainis tapped her with the paddle to make sure it was a good position to strike.
The paddle hit again, breaking the skin in tiny dots of bright mortal blood. Medusa groaned. The sharp pain was heavenly. Too bad Philainis couldn't see the beautiful marks she was creating.
"Please, I have learned my lesson!"
Another smack made her snakes hiss along with her. By bloody Tartaros this thing was mean!
"Are you sure about that?" Philainis' unseeing eyes seemed to pierce through to the very depths of her soul.
"Yes. Please, Philainins, forgive me."
The delicate hand put the paddle down.
"I forgive you."
With impressive accuracy Philainis found her lips for a kiss. As ecstatic as the spanking made her feel, the best thing about these sessions were the loving touches of the afterglow.
5. Gags, Hera x Echo
"You little shit thought I wouldn't notice, did you?" Hera's eyes were ablaze with the rage of the heavens. "Unfortunately for you, my husband is spectacularly bad at hiding his affairs. Your nymph friends are gonna pay for their part in it in due time. But you..." Hera smirked. "I have a special punishment just for you." She reached into her cleavage and produced a small golden ball on a leather string. It didn't look very frightening.
"You're giving me gold jewellery? You really must have loved my work, Queen Hera, if you reward me such! What am I going to do with it? Wear the bauble around my neck? Around my wrist, maybe, or around my neck? It will go great with my green dress, don't you think? Oh, the world will look upon me in awe and I will tell them this is Queen Hera's most wicked punishment, making me look absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. I mean, you have chosen this piece yourself, how could it not be? Have I ever told you about that time I found a golden coin that a traveller lost in the mountains? That wa-"
"Silence!" Hera glowered at her. "I have listened to your idle talk long enough. This will shut you up for good." She picked up the golden gag and placed it against Echo's lips, pulling both strings to apply pressure. "Open up."
Hesitantly, Echo parted her ever-moving lips and let the ball glide into her mouth. Hera fastened the strings, holding it in place. There was something like... glee in her eyes?
"You are right, the piece does look gorgeous on you." Hera smirked. "But you're not going to wear it as a necklace, are you?"
Echo wagged her tongue, tried to get words out but nothing but unintelligble noise came out.
"Oh, you shouldn't have thought you could trick me, stupid nymph." She sighed. "What would you have me do?"
The intense mumbles signified that Echo was trying to make her point quite extensively. But not a words was recognisable.
"I'm sorry," Hera mocked her. "I can't understand you." She ran a perfectly manicured finger from Echo's saliva-coated chin down to her cleavage. "But no matter what you say, you are going to make up for what you did." She pinched one of Echo's nipples and the nymph cried out in pain against the golden ball. "How often did you distract me so my husband could frolic with the mountain nymphs?" She waited for Echo's muffled answer. "It makes no matter. You are going to please me a hundred times over."
She grasped the nymph's hand and guided it between her legs.
"Better start now."
6. Lingerie / Stripping, Hera x Zeus
Apollon plucked the strings of his kithara with his soft musician's fingers. Hera gave him a disdainful look before turning her attention back to her husband. Zeus sat on her chair, a beautiful work of gold and ivory. Scenes of their wedding were etched into the metal with a cuckoo symbolising the early courting, passionate and secret. Days long gone now. She began swaying with Apollon's music, her eyes locked on her husband. She wore a dress so fine it was transparent in the right light but the torchlight was low and she had instructed the God of Light to keep it that way. The pearls Amphitrite had gifted her lay snug around her bosom. Aphrodite had helped her fashion them into a stunning piece of jewellery. But for now, it was hidden by the cloth. A diadem had been worked into her hair by the delicate hands of Aphrodite, along with a hairnet that made her look as if she had actual stars in her hair.
"As the Queen of the Heavens it's the only appropriate look!" the love goddess had said. She had painted her lips and coloured her eyes. Hera felt like she could expect as much from her subjects, unruly as the gods may be, but Aphrodite's work really did make her feel breathtakingly sexy. She turned, taking the opportunity to scowl at Apollon who had made it very clear he did not want to be here but the Queen wouldn't be denied. She wanted the best musician and unfortunately her husband's bastard son was indecently skilled at playing the kithara. She shook her backside to the tune of the music, music she had given clear instructions on. A glance over her shoulder reassured her that Zeus was watching. Good. She swung her hips as she turned back towards him – and then she dropped her veil. It was only the very first piece to go but she could see her husband's jaw almost dropped. Hera gave him a haughty glare before turning up her nose at him for another twirl. He should see and admire her from all sides. Worship her buttocks and thighs and breasts like a good husband. She unfastened the string that had held up the top part of her dress, an easily untied knot Aphrodite had shown her. She still wore her breast band underneath but Zeus' eyes were undressing her where she stood. With a little smirk, she put in a more elaborate dance routine, letting him catch a glimpse under her skirts. He was already hard and the air in the room was thickening with electricity. Hera tore off her breast band, standing bare in front of him, her breasts swaying to the melody. She must be gorgeous to look at in the soft firelight, the fine blue fabric caressing her, the silver of stars in her hair, and just as out of reach. Zeus fidgeted on the chair, eager to get up, to touch, to fill. But not now. She would show off all of Aphrodite's creation. The pearls accentuated her breasts perfectly but the strings went further than just her chest. The music swelled to announce her big reveal. Hera made her skirts fly and for as long as she was still wearing them. Then, while she was spinning to the dramatic melody, she loosened her belt and the dress flew off. She came to a sudden stop. As previously discussed, Apollon directed the light of the torches in the room at her, the music stopping only a heartbeat after she did. The pearls shimmered and shone in the light, an elegant pattern hugging her feminine figure and bringing out her charms in the best way. Zeus gulped.
"That will be all," Hera said without gracing their musician with a look. "The king and I have grown-up affairs to discuss."
7. Butt Job, Persephone x Hades
Persephone entered the large throne room where she and Hades gave their audiences. She was returning from the garden, her hands dark with the earth. But the marble beneath her feet was even darker, black as the dead of night with golden veins glimmering in the polished stone. Her husband sat on his throne, an intimidating creation hewn from the same black marble with two life-like three-headed dogs sitting in front of the armrests and a snake relief curling on each side. Winged sculptures of the Erinyes decorated the backrest. Hades, dressed in an equally dark and gloomy robe, was listening to Thanatos and his sisters, the Keres. Apparently, a large influx of departed souls was on their way down here. Most of whom had died a violent death. The children of Nyx, with their ashen faces and hair as dark as Erebos, had scared her once, back when she was first taken down to the underworld. But now, she waved at them in greeting as she made her way across the hall towards her own throne.
"It will take Charon many a trip with his bark," Thanatos said, "And not all of them may be buried with the proper rites. But there will be new souls here for the Fields of Asphodel."
"Thank you, Thanatos," Persephone said as she dropped onto her throne. "We shall prepare for the new shades while the funeral fires burn. You are dismissed."
"My Queen." The God of Death bowed a little awkwardly with his wings still about him and took one of his sisters by her clawed hand to lead her out of the hall. Screeching and scuttling, the others followed. The room fell silent.
"Have you tended to the gardens to your satisfaction, my dear wife?" Hades turned in his seat to look at her.
"I have." She smirked. "And garden work always makes me horny."
"I can't say the same about my job."
"How unfortunate." Persephone leaned over to him. "But I'm sure I can change that for you."
She let her hand glide down his chest all the way to his crotch.
"Persephone. Hermes might be here any moment."
"So?" Persephone gave him a caress through the thick fabric of her husband's robes. "It's not like he can do anything about it."
"You don't care if he - or anyone else - sees us like this?"
Persephone lifted her skirt with one hand to expose some thigh.
"No, I don't. As my mother always says, shame is for the weak."
She ignored his objections and rose, exposing her buttocks to his view.
"Don't you enjoy your wife's charms?" she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder.
"I do. In the privacy of our bedchamber."
"There's sooooo much more to explore. Don't turn our bedchamber into a prison."
Persephone shook her bum.
"Right here, right now."
"I'm not taking you in our throne room!"
"Too bad. Then I'm gonna take you in our throne room."
Persephone sat down on his lap, her cheeks still bare. She could feel his hardness despite the thick, regal fabric of his himation. She shifted her weight back and forth, as if fidgeting in her seat. Hades' bony hands grabbed her by the hips.
She gave him a cheeky grin, not ceasing her caress. His pale cheeks received a tinge of rose.
"It is hot," he admitted. "But-"
"No but. I'm gonna make you spill into your chiton. Are we clear?"
"Y-yes." His voice was raspy as if his throat was all dried up.
"Good boy." Persephone glided over the black cloth, her womanhood leaving a trace of her own desire. She parted her own cheeks so her husband's manhood would fit even deeper between them. A desperate gasp from him made her drip. She held on to the armrests and put her full weight into his lap, rubbing his length between her buttocks with the fervour of a dancing bee. She could feel the wet spot in his himation growing and it wasn't her.
"Persephone, have mercy-"
"No." She leaned back to kiss him. "You'll have to get a change of clothes."
Defeated, her husband accepted his fate. Her thick buttocks were perfect for this kind of stimulation and they both knew it. Hades' fingers sunk into her curvy bum, a moan escaping from his lips. It was all the noise she got but she did notice his squirming as he spilled into his nice black clothes.
"I think someone just had an accident," she teased him. "Good thing your wife had your clothes washed just the other day."
"I really am blessed with the most brilliant wife." Hades lifted her off his lap and stood. "But also the most audacious one."
8. Pegging, Aphrodite x Demeter
tribas, tribades: from the Greek word τριβάς, a woman who actively penetrated another person (male or female) through use of the clitoris or a dildo
corn: used here in the sense of grain. Maize is native to the Americas and therefore not available in ancient Europe
sow: ancient Greek slang for the vulva
Aphrodite smiled fondly at the exciting invention she and Dionysos had created. A polished wooden phallus, much improved from the fig branch he had used to fashion the first one, fastened to a beautiful harness of golden chains and pearls. They had tested it together and it could bring so much pleasure, regardless of the set of genitals a given lover had. But as much as she valued her own input she wanted to test it on other people, especially goddesses. It was nice to service another woman by hand or by way of the tribades but to have this kind of option, an intimate connection with a hard phallus, added some spice to the banquet. Neither Hera nor Artemis, with whom she had tested her invention before, were suitable for the passive role. No, she needed someone else. Someone more submissive or versatile. Athena wouldn't be an option, as much as she would have liked to tease her thus. Hestia, the third in their virgin club, might be up for it but someone so inexperienced wouldn't give comprehensive feedback. Hestia's sister, though... Aphrodite smirked. Demeter was a wonderful partner in bed, a lady who knew what she wanted, and as resolute as she was, Aphrodite knew she could take the passive role. She did fuck men after all. And surely she would appreciate such a tool. Maybe even show it to sweet Persephone as a toy for her nymph friends when she came back from Hades. Yes, the Corn Mother would be an excellent choice. If she was willing.
Aphrodite found Demeter at her farm house on earth. It was already autumn and the goddess prepared her fields for winter.
"Greetings, daughter of rich-haired Rhea."
The doves brought her chariot to a gentle stop.
"What brings you here, golden Aphrodite?"
She stepped out of the richly decorated car.
"I need your rich expertise."
Demeter raised an eyebrow.
"It's not about plants, is it?"
"Not exactly." Aphrodite opened her bag and produced the strapping new invention. "It's about your expertise as a lover. You see, Dionysos and I created this new toy but I need someone else who would test it with me. Someone who owns a sow."
"I see." Demeter carefully took it from her hands and examined it. "So this is like a substitute phallus that you fetter to yourself somehow?"
"I'll show you." Aphrodite gave her a seductive look. "Inside."
Demeter whistled when Aphrodite presented her with the strapped-on harness.
"I have sampled its functionality and I can promise you it does deliver."
"So you wanna plough me with that thing?"
"If you would allow me to, yes."
Demeter gave the phallus a sceptical pull.
"Seems stable enough."
Aphrodite rolled her eyes.
"You're not getting the first prototype, Deo. We've already tested and improved it."
"All right." She lifted her skirts. "Fuck me like a fig tree and we'll see how it can be improved further."
Aphrodite eyed her nice bristly mound while she applied oil to the wooden shaft.
"That's the idea." She put the oil aside. "Ready?"
Demeter lay down on her back, facing her.
"Come on in."
Aphrodite watched her as she glided in, Demeter's cunt devouring the whole shaft.
"Is it good like this?"
"It's colder than a dryad's cock. But nice and smooth."
Aphrodite's lips twisted into a pout.
"Well, it's not alive. But we did spend a lot of time polishing it."
"With your cunt?"
"It's not THAT raspy."
Demeter grinned, getting up enough to slide a finger into Aphrodite's opening.
"I have to concur. But maybe that's only because you're slick as seaweed."
"Why wouldn't I be? I'm with a hot, willing goddess." Aphrodite unpinned Demeter's chiton, the top falling down her curves. "With excellent tits."
The goddess had been working so they were tucked away in a breast band. The cleavage made Aphrodite weak in the knees. She fumbled with the breast band, her thrusts not nearly as smooth as the wood. It was hard finding a rhythm. At least she got the tits out. Dropping the breast band to the floor, she was upon them like a bird of prey, kissing the soft skin.
"Speed up, girl. I want some fucking friction."
"Impatient, are we?" Aphrodite sucked some of the exquisite tit into her mouth. She'd give Demeter what she wanted. Speed up? Can do. Demeter gasped beneath her, making Aphrodite smirk.
"Not so bad after all?"
"I'll reserve hnng! judgement on that."
Aphrodite licked the sensitive rose buds standing as hard and erect as her wooden toy. Her hips moved smoothly now, as if she were dancing an erotic dance. She wished she could feel Demeter around her but to see the pleasure on her face, hear her gasps and moans, serving her, that was what this toy was about. HER pleasure. Demeter's lips tightened and Aphrodite pushed in deeply, her thrusts long and deep.
"Oh fuck!" Demeter exclaimed. "Oh fuck, oh fuck-"
She groaned, the tension releasing in the bliss of climax. Aphrodite opened up her divine senses, sharing in the orgasmic high while she kept thrusting as hard as she could until she was exhausted by the exercise.
"Your feedback?" she asked, panting on top of the bountiful goddess.
"'S pretty good," Demeter said, her brow glistening with sweat. "But you need more stamina wielding it."
9. Praise Kink, Erato x Apollon
kithara: a string instrument akin to a lyre but larger and heavier that was used by professional musicians
Phoibos: lat. Phoebus, a name and epithet of Apollo(n) meaning "bright"
Apollon was cleaning his golden kithara. Technically he had servants who could do that but he didn't entrust his instruments to a layman's hand, especially not his kithara. The door to the music room swung open and Erato sashayed in, her heavy, sensual perfume filling up his senses before she even reached him.
"How is my favourite kithara player doing?" she asked, coming up behind him with a twirl. Apollon smiled.
"As you can see he is quite busy taking care of his beloved instrument."
Erato snaked a hand into the collar of his chiton.
"And Iiii have just returned from inspiring the hottest, most inflaming poem to ever be put down on papyrus."
Apollon didn't look up from his work.
"Is that so? You claim that every other week."
"It's not my fault the mortals are getting hornier." Erato petted his chest. "What about you?"
"I am not mortal."
Erato pinched his nipple.
"That's not what I'm asking and you know it!"
Apollon tilted back his head to look at her, his beautiful golden hair falling down his shoulders.
"I don't think I have gotten any hornier either."
"I could change that." She gave him a seductive smirk.
"I'm in the middle of something here."
"Yes. And you're doing a marvelous job with your lyre. You know how much I love to hear you play. Your fingers pluck the strings with a skill unmatched even by us Muses. And your voice." Erato made a dramatic pause. "It's one thing to hear you speak but to hear you sing? It's like gold made audible."
Apollon's cheeks took on a rosy hue at the praise.
"Thank you, Erato. I'm working hard on my performance."
The Muse of love poetry leaned down slightly to whisper softly into his ear:
"Your hardness pleases me even more. So perfectly shaped is your phallos, not too big, not too small, with a beautiful crown and such a nice, long prepuce as if Father Zeus had crafted you."
"Are you trying to seduce me, Erato?"
"Who wouldn't? A god such as yourself, tall, strong, gifted in the arts and in combat, with the straightest nose I have ever seen, clear-voiced and wise, with your soft, golden hair that has no equal even among the gods who hold Olympos – yes, I'm trying to seduce you."
Apollon fingered his kithara. Her words did send warmth to both his heart and his groin.
"My darling," Erato continued, kissing the down on his temples, "Won't you join your glorious of form with mine?" Her fingers teased his chest. "So swift of foot are you that you beat even Hermes. So sharp are your eyes that you see all and never miss a target with your bow. So skilled is your touch that it heals the sick. So sweet is your scent that I want to drown in it." She gently took the kithara from him and sat down on his lap, his desire rising against her buttocks. "Have I convinced you yet?"
Apollon wrapped his arms around her.
"I may need to hear some more of your arguments."
"Will you expose your gleaming chest to me, Phoibos? Your golden complexion, so pure no dust can settle on it? Will you show me your buttocks, firm and strong and unflattened by intercourse? Will you give me your phallos, perfectly shaped and hard as the columns of Delphi?"
Apollon's breath came out a little shaky.
"I will, beloved Erato." He lifted her skirt and she opened his chiton, admiring his wide chest as the cloth fell away. "But I may ask your opinion on my performance."
10. Feminisation, Dionysos x Pentheus
Spartoi: the "Sown Ones", warriors sprung from the dragon teeth Kadmos had sown following the advice of Athena. They helped Kadmos found the city of Thebes and one of them married his daughter Agaue, Pentheus' mother.
Perseus: In the Dionysiaka, Perseus fights Dionysos and his retinue but Hermes can make peace between his brothers.
"Servants, bring my armour from the palace. And you: stop talking!"
Dionysos, disguised as his own priest, remembered all too well how things went when he fought Perseus, his half-brother. The blood spilt. The terrible price.
"Ah... Wait..." There must be a way to avoid open confrontation. "Let me ask you, Pentheus: would you be interested in... in spying on the women as they go about their mysteries?"
The king's features remained stoic but his body told Dionysos that he had struck a nerve.
"I would give much gold for such a sight," Pentheus admitted.
"Such strong desire!" Dionysos grinned. "Shall I take you there now? Will you come with me?"
"The sooner the better. It would be a pity to waste time."
"True. But don't rush into things, King Pentheus. First you must put on a linen dress."
His cousin's face went red with indignation.
"A what?! You’d have me demoted to a woman?!"
"If you'd rather have them kill you straight away?"
"No. No, you're right." Pentheus sighed. "So how do we do this?"
"Let us go inside and get you ready. I will help you dress the part."
He could see the hesitation, his masculine pride fighting with desire. Better pour some oil into that fire:
"Are you not keen to see the maenads?"
Pentheus wetted his lips.
Dionysos had to admit his cousin had turned out a handsome man, if not a very bright or sensible one. Had things gone differently, they could have been friends. He sorted through Agaue's wardrobe, his own mother's sister. The saffron would go great with blood.
"Come here," he called with a soft voice. "I have just the dress for you!"
"Will you please stop calling it a dress?" Pentheus protested, "I feel ashamed."
"No need to be ashamed. Once I'm done, you'll look like a daughter of Kadmos. Nobody will recognise you."
Pentheus looked sceptical. Fuck him. He'd have to apologise later. Dionysos picked up a wig of long, flowing hair that he had styled in the fashion of high-born women.
"Sit here. I'll fit it to your head."
Obediently, the King of Thebes sat down in front of the silver mirror and Dionysos set the wig down on him. If he had been a little younger, if he had not yet cut the long hair of his youth, they could have saved the time of fixing the wig but alas. It was easy to do with a few hair pins. He added a wreath of vine and ivy. Perfect.
"Now for the dr— the garment."
Pentheus growled unhappily.
"It will make you look so glamourous, King Pentheus!" Dionysos claimed enthusiastically. And he was truthful. The dress was a real show-stopper and his cousin would fill it nicely. "Come on, no need for that long face!"
His fingers brushed over the king's naked skin as he closed the delicate golden pin over his shoulder.
"You'll need some make-up too," he declared. "Your skin is much too tan."
"Now make-up too?" Pentheus rose from the seat. "You're going too far, priest!"
"Of course you can choose to go without make-up. But then you will be discovered and spill blood. While you could be watching them and spill—"
"Fine! Paint my lips if you must!"
Dionysos grinned. He had only intended to whiten the skin but an invitation like that couldn't go unanswered. He tapped lightly on his cousin's shoulders.
"Sit. I shall disguise your masculine complexion."
The white powder was quickly applied, along with some colour to give the face a rounder, more feminine shape. Now for the lips. A rich, seductive red, yes, that was appropriate for the occasion. Dionysos dipped the small brush into the paint. Pentheus, he noticed, had full, curled lips, not much different from his own. They could have been so kissable had the stubborn son of the Spartoi not rejected his cult but joined in the orgies.
"How do I look?" Pentheus asked shyly. "Like aunt Ino? Or more like my mother?"
Dionysos gave him a bright smile.
"The very image of your mother. But let me fix your wig again. This curl has come astray. Hold still."
He pushed Pentheus' own hair back under the wig and took a few more pins to secure the disguise.
"Who knew a priest would be a decent hairdresser too?" Pentheus got up, his gorgeous dress flowing all the way down to his feet, the decorated hem set perfectly at ankle-length.
"Now for the belt..."
Dionysos girded him, creating a feminine shape where there was none.
"At last, the thyrsos for your hand."
He handed him the staff of giant fennel, lightweight, decorated with fluttering ribbons.
"Are you ready to go and see what you should not? To desire what shouldn’t be desired?"
"Yes. I will hide in the firs. My safety is in your hands."
"You'll find all the safety you deserve, as a man who goes to spy on Maenads."
He shall get to see my Bacchae, Dionysos thought as they descended down the stairs of the Theban palace, but the ticket will be death.
The dialogue is based on The Bacchae by Euripides, translated by Robin Robertson and Daniel Mendelsohn (2014).
11. Orgasm Denial, Aphrodite x Ares
pithos: a large storage jar
pteryges: literally "feathers", the iconic strip-like defences that formed a defensive skirt of leather or multi-layered fabric or lappets worn from the waists of ancient Greek and Roman cuirasses, protecting the hips and thighs.
Aphrodite gave her lover a self-content smirk. He had followed her home, to the house of Hephaistos. Her marriage wasn't particularly happy but the house her husband had built was extraordinary, as one might expect from a god of craftmanship. At least he spent most of his time away from home at his forge on the island of Lemnos.
"Lord Ares," she purred, "What brings you here?"
Smooth, Ares, very smooth.
"I heard you need help with the, uh, heavy stuff. Uh. The pithos."
"Oh yes, I could really use a strong god to help me, since my husband isn't home." Aphrodite did her best to sound as clueless as possible. "Come on in, Lord Ares, it will be easy for you."
Ares entered, taking off his crested golden helm. As soon as the door closed behind him, Aphrodite threw her arms around him, attacking him with kisses.
"I missed you," she said quietly.
"I missed you more, my darling."
His strong arms closed around her, holding her like the most costly treasure.
"Let us go to bed together," she suggested. "I want you out of that armour."
"I won't defy your wishes, my love."
She took him by the hand, so happy for his presence, and led him up the stairs to the women's quarters where she had her bed and all her finery. She sat down on the rose-coloured blanket that covered the plump cushions in reds and purples and golds and gave her lover a seductive look through her lashes.
He was a well-behaved boy and immediately put away the helm, starting on his greaves.
"I may need a little help with the breast plate," he told her. "If you could be so kind to open the clasps for me?" He grinned. "We do not yet have a son who could help his father out."
"Ambitious, are we?" Aphrodite took her time, approaching him with sensual sways of her hips. "If we had a child, I'd have to lie with Hephaistos so he won't know it's not his."
Ares' mien soured.
"Don't you have to do that anyway?"
She fumbled with his breastplate.
"I avoid it as much as I can."
Standing so close, his scent was clouding her mind. So familiar and yet so exciting. She removed the back piece and put it aside. He was wearing a nice, clean chiton underneath, simple but dyed in her favourite colour. Her hand felt up his thigh, beneath the leather straps of his armour. Oh, she'd enjoy her time with him!
He took of the pteryges and the short chiton until he stood before her in the nude. Her presence excited him, she felt it plainly, even if it hadn't been for the now visible halfmast erection. A trail of coarse, bushy hair led up from his pubes all the way to his chest. Aphrodite combed it with manicured fingers.
He obeyed, sitting down on her bed, then making himself comfortable between the cushions.
Aphrodite took her seat beside him, letting him take in her form, admiring her, lusting for her. When his hand reached for her, she stopped him.
"Ah-ah-ah, did you get permission?"
"Then no touching."
He looked disappointed but withdrew his hand, watching her closely.
"You will enjoy me," she promised, "when I say so."
"I'm glad we understand each other."
She gave him a caress, relishing the firmness of his muscled arms against her fingertips, the bristly body hair, the warmth of his skin. Her attention had made him stand like a mast, drawing her eye down to his phallos. She teased him with a feathery touch.
"What a nice spear you have there," she said, her voice dripping with desire. "Such a great fit for my sheath." His cock twitched. Aphrodite enwrapped it in her soft hand. "I shall defeat it."
"I have no doubt about that," Ares replied with a hoarse voice. Aphrodite rubbed him, delighted at the pleasure he derived from every tug at the prepuce. Oh, he was sooooo into her. She adjusted her position to put her charms in full view. He longed to rip the cloth of her peplos from her body. But he'd have to behave. She took her time, giving him long, sensual strokes and mirroring them on her own body, guiding her hand along her breasts and the curve of her hips. His breath came quicker and more noisily. His spear was hard as oak wood. The crown swelled, his body tensed — and Aphrodite let go. After two panting breaths Ares managed to grunt:
He took her hand, leading it back to his dripping cock.
"Please. Finish me."
Aphrodite rose, pulling her hand back.
"I will think about it. For now, I'm needed in your father's palace. See you later."
She placed a wet kiss on the tip and left, delighting in the passion she would be met with upon her return.
12. Humiliation, Aphrodite x Ares
Frottage and Sensory Deprivation were the two other kinks for today. I gave them a nod, but humiliation is the main kink of this story. Since it's Aphrodite x Ares again, it's a continuation of Day 11.
When she came back, Ares was still on her bed, naked, as if she had never left.
"Good boy. I have a reward for you, my dear." She undressed, taking off her breastband and held it up for him to see. "Let me cover your eyes."
Ares touched the cloth.
"I'll be at your mercy."
"Completely." Aphrodite smirked. "Does that sound appealing to you?"
Ares smirked back at her.
"I'll be in good hands. If you don't treat me right, you'll get what you deserve next time."
Aphrodite kissed him.
"I always treat you right, my love. Just the way you want it."
She wrapped her breastband around his head, covering his eyes. Every little touch became more intense if you couldn't see it. She already felt his excitemet rising.
"So ferocious on the battlefield, so docile in bed," she teased him. Her lover liked a bit of verbal assault in their play. And sometimes physical too. They both did. When he called her a whore and bent her over the table, grabbing her roughly, it got her juices flowing like little else. When SHE called him a cuckold and smacked his bum, the effect was similar. She gave his buttocks a pinch. "Have you lost all fighting spirit because of a goddess telling you what to do?"
He nodded, signalling he was all right with playing.
"You've always done that, hm? Doing what your mummy told you to do." Aphrodite traced his lips with perfectly manicured fingers. "And then, you came crying to mummy when your mean sister beat you at melée."
That gauged a strong reaction. She'd have to tread carefully - truly hurting him was not the goal.
"In fact, she has beaten you many times now, has she? Just like your lover. Your sweet, beautiful lover, blowing away your fighting and your bloodshed and giving peace to mortals."
"You can't stop me from raging."
"Oh, you dumb mummy's boy, I vanquish you with a flutter of my lashes."
Yes, that was much safer. She could feel his desire growing.
"If only I could see them."
He touched his blindfold. Aphrodite made a fake gasp.
"What an insulent little bugger you are!" She smacked his bum and smirked when a drop of precome fell down on her sheets. "Getting off on making fun of your girlfriend!"
"I wasn't mak-"
She smacked him again, using not her own hand but the silver mirror from her bedside table. His surprised grunt delighted her.
"When in fact you should consider yourself lucky to have her, what with your oversized prick." She smacked her lips for effect. In truth, she couldn't get enough of his cock, no matter its size. But that wouldn't serve this game. "Such a beastly god are you that your lack of control over your urges can be seen plainly in the enormous size of your member." She touched it, feeling its hardness beneath her fingertips. "You're sticky. Did that make your overlarge cock drool, huh? Do you get off on uncivilised sex like wild animals? Mounting a sow like a boar?"
She rubbed him, making him groan. She could feel he was pretty riled up. But still, she wanted him.
"Try to keep it together, boar."
Aphrodite rubbed her womanhood against his shaft, delighting in his little squirm.
"Isn't this nice?"
She inserted him, taking him easily despite his size. Oh, how she loved feeling him in this way, being so close and intimate.
"Don't let your mummy know."
She pressed her finger to his lips, her hips moving as she rode him.
"What are you waiting for, you big oaf? Help me fuck you!"
His hands found her buttocks, supporting her movements. She let a few fingers ghost over his, a loving touch despite this game.
"Your spear is powerless against my cunt," she told him, "It will be limp and useless in just a few moments."
His breath came ragged. She licked his chest, using her teeth around his rosy buds. He didn't react but she registered the pleasure in the harmless pain in his desire. He wouldn't make it much longer. Time for her to get the most out of this. She rode him like a racehorse, moaning insults in his ear. The shaft hard as an ashen spear his crown swelled and...
Aphrodite allowed him to spend inside her. It was so rare they got the chance to lie in amorous embrace that she just couldn't bring herself to uncunt him or stop him from spilling. She let his shrinking erection inside her for as long as it would last and cuddled up on top of him.
"I love you, my stupid oaf," she said.
"I love you too, cheap whore." He kissed her. "Three obols say I get to mount you twice tonight."