Yanking ineffectually at the chains binding his naked body to the altar, Strife looked around the temple nervously. There had to be nearly a dozen warriors standing there, watching him expectantly. He pulled at the shackles on his wrists again, with no result. They had to be forged by Hephaestus to suppress his powers and strength like this. He was really starting to get worried.
There was a flash of light and then the God of War was standing beside the altar. He smirked down at his nephew. "Comfortable?"
"What's up with this, Unc?" the young god asked, trying not to let his apprehension show through.
"It's a reward."
"Um, great...I think." The Mischief God looked at the mortals again, not at all reassured by Ares' explanation.
"Trust me," the War God said, his smirk widening.
Now Strife knew he was in trouble. But before he could say anything else, the other god grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back. He yelped at the unexpected sensation of pain.
He could be hurt? The chains were making it possible. He felt another unexpected sensation: fear. Then Ares' mouth was on his throat, distracting him. He gasped in shock and pleasure as the War God began alternately sucking and biting at his skin. It stung, but it felt good too. The bites became harder, until Strife couldn't help crying out from the pain. He felt the rough wetness of a tongue on his skin and knew Ares was licking up the blood he'd drawn.
That realization, combined with the strangely erotic pain his Uncle was inflicting, aroused the young god. His cock stiffened but he almost wished he wouldn't respond to this. He could feel the eyes of all those mortals on him, could hear their whispered comments and crude laugher, and it unnerved him.
"Unc?" he whispered, hating the way his voice wavered. He wanted to know what this was all about, but he received no response.
The mouth on him slid lower, down to his chest. The tongue flicked over a nipple, making him tense, waiting for the bite. But that tongue only continued to tease his nipple until it was stiff. Strife moaned softly as the War God moved to his other nipple, closing his mouth over it. That felt wonderful. The young god arched up against the mouth -- and cried out in pain as Ares bit down, hard.
"Hey!" the Mischief God snapped in protest. "Do you gotta do that?"
Ares moved back up. Looking down at his nephew, he smiled. There was nothing pleasant about that smile and it made the young god shiver involuntarily. Then, still gripping Strife's hair, the War God pulled a dagger out of his belt and held it near the other god's face. The light from the torches lining the temple walls, reflected off the dagger's sharp blade.
"Oh, fuck!" Strife gasped in fear. "No!" He didn't know what his Uncle planned to do with that and he didn't want to find out. "Lemme outta here!"
When the War God set the blade aside, Strife began struggling again. There had to be a way out of these damn shackles! The back-handed blow to his face caught him completely by surprise. He instantly stopped all movement, staring up at Ares in utter shock. His Uncle had struck him before, of course, but it'd never actually hurt. Now he felt blood trickling down the back of his throat and the pain -- he didn't like this.
The God of War leaned down and kissed him. There was nothing gentle about this kiss. It was hard and brutal...and the feel of Ares' tongue in his mouth, the War God's other hand moving down to rub a nipple, pinch it -- Strife heard himself moan.
He didn't get it. Fear gripped him but he was still turned on. He kissed Ares back, sucking at the tongue invading his mouth. Then the other god pulled away from him, releasing his hair.
This time when the War God picked up the dagger, Strife said nothing. He just braced himself for the expected pain.
He barely felt the first cut. Ares drew the blade slowly across his lower chest. The edge so sharp there was nothing but a faint stinging sensation -- at first. After a few moments the sting grew to an uncomfortable burning feeling. Then the War God moved to lick up the blood trickling from the wound. Strife shivered again, this time in pleasure.
The dagger went to his shoulder, cutting a trail of stinging pleasure from there down to his nipple, stopping there. Instead of licking the blood this time, Ares cut the other god again, on his cheek. Now he did clean up the blood with slow licks of his tongue.
It continued that way. The dagger cutting into the young god's flesh in a leisurely manner. Sometimes the War God would lap up the blood, but other times he'd just move on to another cut. It wasn't until the blade touched the inside of his thigh that Strife realized he was on the verge of cuming. He was gasping for breath, his cock stiff and aching. He really hated this -- and he was so incredibly turned on. Then it stopped.
The dagger disappeared, along with Ares' clothes. Then the War God moved up onto the altar, straddling the younger god's bleeding chest. Grabbing Strife's hair again, he yanked the man's head up. "Get it good and wet," he ordered, guiding his cock towards the other god's mouth.
Strife gladly obeyed. He closed his lips around the head of the thick cock, running his tongue over it. He wasn't prepared for the way the War God suddenly pushed hard, shoving the rest of the way into his mouth, down his throat. He nearly choked, but quickly adjusted as Ares began thrusting. He'd done this before but it'd been a while and he'd forgotten how huge the other god was. He knew what the War God liked. He began sucking, letting his teeth occasionally scrape lightly over Ares' cock, drawing a groan from the other man. But he'd barely begun a steady suction before the War God pulled out.
Releasing his nephew's hair, Ares moved further down the altar. Strife felt the shackles on his ankles disappear and knew what was going to happen. His legs were pulled up over the War God's shoulders and he felt the head of the spit-soaked cock pressing against him. Then Ares pushed into him.
The young god bit straight into his lip, stifling the scream that threatened to escape. Fuck, it *hurt*! He'd never felt pain like this before and the War God just continued to work his way in deeper. Strife wanted to pull away but the hands on his hips were bruising in their grip. He couldn't do anything but lie there and take it.
When Ares pulled nearly all the way out, the young god tried to prepare himself for the agony he knew was coming. But the War God angled his thrust just a bit differently. He pushed back in and this time Strife couldn't hold back his cry as the cock brushed against his prostate. The pain felt just as bad as before, but now it was joined by pleasure that almost matched it in intensity.
Ares began rocking into him at a steady pace, hitting that spot each time. The combined pain and pleasure confused the young god's senses and he couldn't tell which motivated his cries. He realized he was pushing back against the War God and he didn't know when he'd started. A part of him was loving this, and it was that part that made him beg for more. He could barely believe it when he heard himself pleading for the other god to take him harder, faster. Ares did. Pounding into him until Strife screamed, his body stiffening, clamping down on the cock inside him as he came, semen slicking his and the War God's chests.
He lay there, limp and momentarily exhausted as his body was rocked by Ares' deep thrusts. Then, a minute or so later, he moaned as he felt the War God cuming inside him.
Ares pulled out almost immediately, making the young god wince. Strife was starting to become aware of his surroundings again. Especially their audience. He did his best not to listen to the different conversations taking place. It was bad enough that he'd been fucked in public like a common mortal. He didn't need to hear these warriors talking about it. About him. But then he heard Ares speak and he couldn't ignore that.
"A complete lack of discipline."
The voices were coming from near the foot of the altar. Ares, now fully dressed, was talking to...someone. A mortal the Mischief God didn't recognize.
"Speaks without permission," the mortal continued. "He's defiant, arrogant and he doesn't want to obey unless it pleases him. You say he's a god?"
"My nephew," Ares answered.
They were both looking at Strife as though he were an object, speaking as though he weren't there. He was getting a very bad feeling about this.
"I never bothered to train him," the War God went on in a calm tone. "His impudence amused me. But lately I've tired of his attitude. Since this is one of your 'specialties', I decided to give you the opportunity."
The mortal smiled. An expression that sent a feeling of dread through Strife.
"I've never broken a god before. I'd like the challenge."
"I thought you might. He's yours for as long as it takes. Just keep those chains on him."
"Will you be staying?"
"Of course. You know how much I love seeing you work," Ares replied pleasantly.
Eyes wide with confusion and fear, Strife watched as the mortal walked around to the side of the altar.
"I think I'll start with a basic reminder of his place here. A little humiliation should work nicely." The man motioned for the other warriors to come closer, then he finally acknowledged the young god. "These are my best generals. They serve me well and they deserve something in return. So you're going to spend a few hours 'entertaining' them." His tone was almost polite, but what he was implying horrified Strife.
The young god glanced at the approaching mortals, saw the cruel lust on their faces, and quickly looked at the God of War. "Uncle?" he said, pleadingly.
Ares just smirked. "I didn't say this was *your* reward, now did I?"
Strife looked back at the mortal standing beside the altar. "Who are you?" he demanded in terror.
The man smiled. "Julius Caesar. But you will call me, 'Master'."