Caesar frowned at the statue of the God or War with displeasure. He had followed the whole demeaning procedure to the letter, a messy, disgusting sacrifice of a virgin and prepubescent boy, their blood used to bathe the altar and statue, their hearts burnt with frankincense and the ashes of a warrior killed in battle. And he had done it all himself too, not delegated the stupid job to some priest.
And all to no effect. Mars or Ares, whatever he liked to call himself, had refused to make an appearance, indifferent to the honor of having Caesar himself call upon him. Didn't he realize that Caesar had never sacrificed to any god before? He hadn't needed to, he was perfectly able to achieve whatever he set his mind to without the help of anyone, least of all a god.
But he needed his help for this: no one else could obtain his heart's desire, no one else had that kind of power. So he had lowered himself to ask, going through the purification ritual, the whole ridiculous mumbo jumbo, in order to get the god to come to him, so he would grant him his wish. And he deserved it; hadn't he done more than any one else for War? No one had taken the might of Rome and its gods to more lands, subjugated them and forced them to recognize the power of said gods. He was entitled to some reward, some recognition.
Disgusted with his failure, Caesar angrily stalked out of the temple and had his slaves carry him back to the palace. If the God of War would not listen to him, then he would try another god. May be Jupiter would be a better candidate. He was the God of Justice, he would see the rightness in granting his wish. Perhaps that had been his mistake, not going to the top, the king of the gods. One great leader talking to another. Yes, when he thought about it, he had more in common with Jupiter than with the God of War, who also dabbled in agriculture for Pluto's sake. Obviously all those bucolic duties had affected the god, and he was incapable of appreciating a worthy follower.
Tomorrow he would go to the main temple and find out what he had to do in order to set up a meeting with Jupiter. Hopefully, it wouldn't be so messy and smelly. The king of the gods had to be above such primitive, vulgar rituals.
After his slaves had washed away all traces of blood and smoke from him, Caesar dismissed them with a wave of the hand, and they all respectfully trotted out. He briefly debated whether to keep the pretty blond boy that had been part of his booty from the last campaign in Gaul, he had yet to break him in, show him how to serve Caesar in bed. But he was too tired and out of sorts, he didn't have the energy for all that tonight. May be tomorrow night he would be in the mood; breaking a virgin in was something that deserved hours of uninterrupted enjoyment, if it was to be done properly.
Sighing with weariness and frustration, Caesar turned round towards his bed and collided forcefully with a rock-hard wall of steel- studded black leather. He hit it with such force that a thin trickle of blood dripped from his smashed nose. What the fuck?
"Well, you puny little human, why are you bothering me?"
Caesar took a step back in order to get a good look at the intruder. A huge man, compared to himself anyway, covered in black leather, with dark, dark, glittering eyes that seemed like the openings to a bottomless abyss, a face both beautiful and terrible, showing nothing but contempt and impatience at the sight of Caesar.
"Who are you? How did you get into my chambers. Do you know the penalty for your foolish action?"
The Interloper flung his head back, coal black curls falling down his back like flowing water, and laughed in Caesar's face. Before he could call for the guards to take the insolent creature away - he would make certain the punishment was severe and public, no one could get away with this behavior - a massive arm lashed out and grabbed his sleeping shift, effortlessly lifting him off the ground and shaking him until he was dizzy and sick.
"You dare threaten me, you feeble little upstart, don't you know how to address your god? I see you are due for a lesson in manners." Saying this, he flung Caesar down on the marble floor, pushing him down on his knees while a burning hand grasped his neck and forced his face into the ground.
"This is how you talk to your god, little man, humbly, respectfully, submissively. Got that?"
Caesar stared at the steel-capped black boot not two inches from his swelling nose, and realized that his god had indeed answered his call. He had been wrong: this was a god worthy of Caesar. What arrogance, what presence, what deadly beauty. He was magnificent!
"I didn't know who you were, you didn't come when I called you, so how was I to know?" Apologies were beneath him, even when dealing with a god. It was not his fault that he hadn't recognized him. He should have appeared in the temple when he was supposed to, not here, in his sleeping quarters.
"I come and go as I please mortal, not at your request." The god moved away and flung himself on the bed, lounging arrogantly against the silken covers, gazing at the kneeling Caesar with amused contempt. "Why did you disturb me anyway?"
Caesar slowly sat up leaning back on his haunches, not deigning to wipe the blood that dripped onto his shift and smeared the polished marble.
"I want you to make me immortal."
The god's eyebrows shot up in surprise and amusement. "You want me to make you what?"
"I want you to make me immortal." Stated Caesar firmly. " I deserve a reward for everything I've done for you. No one has brought more glory to your name than me. No one has fought so many wars and won them for your sake. You owe me this."
The dark god sat up slowly, menacingly, eyes glittering dangerously under lowering brows. "How dare you demand anything of me, you arrogant pipsqueak. And how dare you lie to me, you conceited pup. You never did anything for my glory, but for yours. It's always been for your own self aggrandizement, Caesar's not Ares'. I ought to strike you dead where you lie, you miserable piece of lying scum."
Caesar realized he was not dealing with some patrician member of the Senate, who could be persuaded into thinking he did it all for Rome. This was a god who could see into his very soul and knew the truth. His actions were motivated by the need to show the world his own worth, to garner the appreciation to which he was entitled.
"Tell me what I can do for you, what you want from me and I will do it. Whatever you want is yours." There was more than one way to skin a cat.
Ares gazed at the mortal at his feet, amused in spite of himself by the sheer, blind arrogance of the man. He really thought he could bargain with a god. Incredible to what depths of self-conceit and stupidity these mortal sunk to at times. He definitely should be taught a lesson.
"Anything?" This could be entertaining.
"Anything." He was going to ask for a bigger temple than Jupiter's, or demand he conquer the Persians, in his name of course. They were doable if a bit inconvenient. But the Senate was in the palm of his hand right now, after the triumphs of his latest campaign. He wouldn't have much trouble getting them to comply with whatever request he made.
"All right. I want you to serve me, personally." The god looked meaningfully down at his groin, the large bulge of his leather encased cock showing clearly between his lounging legs, then leered mockingly at the kneeling Caesar.
Caesar looked in stunned surprise at his god, shocked both by the request and the instinctive hardening of his own body. The shift bunched around his groin revealed his reaction only too clearly.
"H-how?" He asked knowing the answer, but stalling for time while he came to terms with the idea of serving his god, in such a personal way.
"Come here and I'll tell you. On your knees." He added when Caesar started to stand up. "I thought I'd shown you how to approach your god, or do you need me to show you again?"
Caesar looked into the implacable eyes and shuffled forward on his bruised knees without a word. It was worth it, immortality was within his grasp, and if this was the price he had to pay, so be it. He came to a stop just outside the spread knees of the god, feeling the aura of power and overwhelming male sensuality emanating from the dark figure envelop his senses, hardening his cock even more, making him pant with heat and arousal.
"Closer." The dark god purred, voice rich as honey, poisonous as henbane.
Caesar shuffled forward until he was scant inches from that threatening bulge. The aroma of warm leather, musk and an indefinable sweet scent, hot blood and spicy incense, invaded his lungs with heady strength, making him dizzy and incredibly aroused. Gods, gods, he hadn't known about this.
The god nonchalantly waved his hand and suddenly a huge, very erect cock was barely brushing Caesar's dry lips. At such close range, it looked enormous, impossible to fit into his mouth.
"Suck it." Caesar, after a moment's hesitation leaned forward until his lips parted over the glistening tip, automatically raising his hands to grapple with the monster.
"No hands." Caesar's hands were now tied tightly behind his back, the leather strips cutting into his flesh. His bloody shift had disappeared and his straining cock was encircled by a constricting ring of black leather. He felt something hard and cold around his neck and realized he was now wearing a metal halter, a thin chain hanging from a ring.
"That's much better." The dark god murmured."The look suits you. May be I'll parade you outside my temple later on. Let others appreciate this new look." Caesar looked up into his god's eyes in horror and met the hard, mocking gaze with the beginnings of fear uncoiling in his guts. What had he got himself into.
The huge cock forced its way into his mouth, the steady strokes taking it deeper, until the tip was thrusting into the back of his throat. He gagged and instinctively drew back, but that burning hand was suddenly at the back of his neck, holding him in a unbreakable grip while the cock plunged forcefully between his aching jaw, filling his throat until he couldn't breathe. There was a red haze tingeing his darkening vision as the molten come of his god seared a path down his throat and into his heaving stomach. Then he was flung away to fall into a panting, choking heap at his god's feet.
"Not much good at it are you?" The god lounged back lazily stroking himself, cock still rock hard and shining wetly with saliva and sweet- smelling come. He looked incredibly sensual and predatory, eyes full of amused malevolence. "You'll have to do better than that if you're going to win any favors from me."
"What do you want?" Caesar rasped out between bruised, swollen lips. His throat felt mangled and raw. And his cock was now an angry, aching demand that could not be satisfied as long as the constricting ring trapped his orgasm. The mixture of pain, frustrated sexual need and humiliation was making it difficult to think straight. He had never been so aroused and so helpless in his life. But the promise of immortality anchored his reeling thoughts. It was worth it, it was all worth it.
"Let's see if you're a better fuck. On your knees, face on the ground and legs wide apart. Now." Caesar took a long, shaky breath and dragged himself to his knees, hesitating at the last, the thought of that huge cock plunging into his unprepared anus filling him with fear. It would tear him apart, there was no way he would survive this without serious injury. He had seen the damage that a dry, forceful penetration made, and it wasn't pretty. He had done it himself often enough to know blood provided poor lubrication.
"I've never..... I'm not.... Please, I need something to prepare me for you." It galled him to plead like this. But he had seen men bleed to death or perish from infection after being raped by the battle maddened soldiers.
"Oh, you want another favor? Which is it to be, immortality or lubrication?" The god was in a great humor. This was proving to be quite entertaining, but the human wasn't submissive enough. He had to be taught to respect his betters.
Caesar looked at the veins of the marble tiles and battled with himself. He hated this, he never begged, never. He would not do so now, he wouldn't, not even to a god.
"Please my lord, I beg you, please don't fuck me without something to ease the way. There's a bottle of sweet oil by the bed." Hot tears of rage and shame fell unheeding to the floor, unwilling offerings to his god.
The god watched the mortal humble himself for the first time in his miserable, arrogant existence, with eyes full of dislike and cold satisfaction. The human was learning. But he wasn't humble enough yet.
"Very well, never let it be said that the God of War cannot show mercy. Fetch it." Caesar slowly raised his head from the floor, took one look at the looming figure standing behind him, arms akimbo, the rock-hard cock proudly jutting out between leather covered legs, and silently shuffled to the low table by the bed. He knew it would be useless to ask for the use of his hands.
He found it almost impossible to grasp the squat container with his mouth, and it was only after several mortifying failures that he managed to clamp his teeth round its small neck. The journey back to the unmoving god lasted an eternity. His cock bobbed drunkenly as he shuffled round the spread legs of his god, the chain hanging from his neck trailing musically on the ground, while torturously brushing against his painfully inflamed cock with each clumsy move. He knew he must look ridiculous.
He knelt at his god's feet and waited for instructions. The god regarded his servant with lazy disdain and silently extended his hand. Caesar placed the container on the outstreched palm noting in spite of himself the graceful fingers and perfect, almond shaped nails. The god was so beautiful, perfect everywhere.
"All right, turn around and assume the position, ass high in the air." The god carelessly nudged the thighs farther apart with the tip of his boot, then conjured a cushion and knelt between the splayed legs, running a slick finger down the stretched cleft and dipping it into the exposed hole. Of course he hadn't needed the oil, but it had amused him to let the mortal fetch it. He sniffed at the bottle and laughed silently. Anise and cardamom, so Caesar needed the help of aphrodisiacs to get it up. Well, not today.
Caesar gritted his teeth and tried not to groan as the long fingers dipped inside him. Sometimes they would brush against his prostrate making him jump and stifle a cry. The god wasn't trying to bring him pleasure, he was just amusing himself by randomly stimulating him to the point of agony. By the end Caesar was trembling uncontrollably and pleading incoherently for relief.
The god slapped his ass with his free hand, pushing the fingers inside against his prostate, and making him cry with the jolt of pleasure that shot through his shuddering body. The god slapped him again and again, the pain and pleasure driving him to near madness, until he was sobbing and screaming, begging his god to fuck him, please fuck him and let him come.
Finally, the fingers withdrew and the god plunged his cock inside the spasming anus, driving into Caesar with such punishing force that his face was mashed again and again against the cold floor, now slippery with tears and spittle, his cheek slithering over the wet marble.
The end came suddenly, the god plunging impossibly deep and releasing his come with a deafening roar. At the same time, the leather ring round Caesar's cock disappeared and he came with a scream of exquisite pain and pleasure, his throbbing cock filling up with blood and releasing come in excruciating counterpoint. It was the most agonizing and yet most glorious orgasm of his entire life. He would never again experience one like it, but he would strive in vain to achieve it.
The god stood up and was fully dressed and clean with a thought. He contemplated the exhausted mess at his feet, come trickling down the parted thighs, face smeared with blood, saliva and snot, and wrinkled his nose in distaste.
"Well, that wasn't too bad I suppose, though I've had a lot better. Don't bother calling me again, you're not worth a second visit." As the god turned to disappear, Caesar cried out, "Wait!"
The god turned and looked at him with impatience. "What about my immortality?" He had not undergone this for nothing. He deserved his reward.
The god smiled coldly, his eyes full of secret amusement. "Ah yes! Your immortality. You've got it." And he disappeared in a blinding flash.
Caesar pushed himself painfully to his feet, his hands throbbing from lack of circulation, his ass sore and tender from the god's pounding, and slowly made his way to the bed where he collapsed. It took him a long time to cut the leather bindings with the dagger he always kept under his pillow, and he was bleeding from several nicks and cuts by the time he had managed to free his numbed and swollen hands.
He curled into a fetal ball in the middle of his bed telling himself all the while that it had been worth it, it had all been worth it. He had got his immortality.
The thought of it sustained him as the knives plunged repeatedly into his chest, and as his senses failed, he gloated with satisfaction at the thought of the painful deaths his murderers would endure when he came back from the dead. After all, he was immortal.
Hades approached the dark brooding figure leaning against a marble column in the magnificent temple where Zeus dwelt. Ares hated these obligatory get together that his father insisted on periodically.
"Ares." The dark lord of the underworld greeted his equally dark nephew.
"Uncle." Ares acknowledged Hades' presence but showed no desire to talk.
Hades continued, undeterred by the unenthusiastic response. " I've just had the soul of a very disgruntled follower of yours arrive in my domain. He claims that you cheated him. Apparently, you promised him immortality but you didn't grant it. He was really furious and demanded that I let him go back. Very arrogant and insistent he was."
Ares looked blankly at his uncle then suddenly smiled wolfishly as he remembered.
"His name wouldn't be Caesar by any chance, would it?"
"As a matter of fact, it was. Seemed to think it should mean something too. So you really cheated him?" Hades asked in idle curiosity. It was of no great import to him what the other gods did, though sometimes he had to listen to the rants of the disgruntled dead who thought their gods had failed them in some way. It could get irritating at times.
Ares snickered, eyes glinting wickedly. " Oh! I granted him immortality all right. Just not the kind he thought. He will forever live in men's memories, one of their immortal figures of History. His exploits will live on for centuries to come."
Hades laughed with his nephew at the joke played on the mortal.
"Imagine, he pretended to bargain with the gods. The hubris of the man." Ares shared a look of contempt at the stupidity of mortals.
"They never learn, do they." murmured Hades. Then bored with the subject, he asked his nephew about the latest war in Illyria, and the number of dead he would be expected to accommodate in his realm. His nephew kept him busy. He was such a hard-working god.