The Hardest Time of All
"But the waiting time, my brother, is the hardest time of all." --Sarah Doundey
I watch him with them, his latest fucktoys, and my whole heart feels as though it's being hammered to a flat nothingness on Hephaestus' anvil. I know that's a bit fanciful-sounding for someone like me, but that's how it feels. And it doesn't get any easier. Each time I think I've resigned myself to it, asked myself again what does it matter if he's grunting with pleasure as he shoves his cock into someone else, I remember how it used to feel when it was me. When he'd look at me with dark eyes that turned almost black with lust as I turned up in front of him with Hephaestus-forged chains. I'd never know for sure which of us it was that would end up chained up, but it was pure power between us, god and goddess. That was why he went for me. Aphrodite? Well, what can I say about that air-headed nonsense-spouting bimbo? He woke up from that one pretty damned quickly. He's the God of *War* for Zeus' sake - power, pain, domination, that's what he wanted. What he *wants*. He's just forgotten for a while, that's all, allowed himself to get temporarily side-tracked by pathetic mortals.
It was Caesar who started it. Actually no, it was Xena. Warrior Princess? Who the fuck was she trying to kid? She had talent, no denying that, but then she wimped out big time. Ended up with that irritating blond. Yeah, then she dumped Iolaus and went for Gabrielle. It wasn't serious with Xena anyway, a few years of obsession, that was all. A few years - a piss in Poseidon's pond to us gods. But then he met Caesar.
Now that was a mortal with potential. I can still remember the first time I saw them together. I knew he had a new regular - I'd noticed those chains had been missing recently when I'd been in his bedchamber. Not being nosy you understand, just checking. I mean it's my job, looking after all the shitty jobs that the great God doesn't want to be bothered with. 'Discord - Goddess of Shitty Jobs' they should call me. So I see this as one more of those little jobs, just checking he's keeping his mind on the business of war.
So I drop in on him one day, just to see who he's fucking. And find myself in a huge military encampment. This is no minor warlord - these guys mean business. I frown. I don't remember Ares telling me about any big campaigns he's got under way at the moment. But when I get to the tent where I can feel he is, I realise why. He doesn't want anyone else to witness this. No other gods, that is. I mean, you can just hear Apollo if he ever found out what his brother let this mortal do to him. So I make sure I stay invisible.
I only have a quick glance around, just time enough to take in the luxurious wall-hangings (in a *tent* for Hades' sake?) and the subtle scent of something that I don't recognise, but which works its way into my brain until I can hear the blood thrumming through my veins, feel the whisper of warm air caressing my skin, and taste the addictive atmosphere of this tent. The seductively potent flavour of dark red wine, power, and sex.
I don't have time to look around me because my attention is on the figure in the centre of the tent. Standing upright, held helplessly spread-eagled in chains, is the naked God of War. The lamps are placed so that the light falls on him, reluctant to waste itself in the shadows of the tent when it could instead concentrate on his glorious body. It highlights his powerful muscles, his broad chest and the dark line of hair down his stomach... I tear my attention back to his face. I want to know what's going on here. His dark eyes are glinting dangerously as he glares at the mortal standing in front of him. I recognise this mortal straight away. Even if Ares isn't sharing, I know my job. I know the leaders who count. And I know that it's Caesar
Ares is pissed off. I don't know what's gone on before I got here, but my brother is not happy. His arms are pulled tight above him, his wrists chained immovably to the solid pole which supports this part of the tent's roof. No chance of breaking Hephaestus' chains, and no chance of pulling them through a pole that thick. And there's a cuff round each ankle as well, the chains firmly secured to the upright poles of the tent, holding his muscled legs still, apart, and slightly back so that his cock is jutting forward.
Caesar takes a thoughtful sip from his goblet, savouring the dusky taste of the heavy wine, as his eyes linger reflectively on Ares' beautiful thick cock in front of him. Then, without a word he turns away from the god and indicates with his head to someone who has been kneeling next to his throne. Gods, a military campaign and the man brings his fucking throne with him? I like this guy's style!
So this other guy gets to his feet and loosens his short tunic so that it slips off and puddles at his feet before he steps out of it and walks towards Ares. This Caesar guy is growing on me all the time - his taste in slaves is excellent. This one is fair and slender, his hips narrow, his limbs long and smooth like marble. And his face is beautiful, lush lips just inviting sharp teeth and a violating tongue, and smooth cheeks which demand bruising... I lick my lips and wonder if I can get to play with him later.
He's walking towards Ares with a look in his eyes and a hard-on that tells me that he's been dreaming all his life of fucking the God of War. And Ares so big and muscled and dark in comparison, his eyes furious. Although it's not just fury that Ares is feeling, if the state of his cock is anything to go by. Caesar sits down in his throne with a slight smile on his lips and I too settle to watch this. Ares is too tied up to notice me at the moment.
The slave stops in front of Ares. Ares' dark eyes are throwing promises of violent retribution at him, but he can't move a muscle in those chains. Then Caesar's head moves and I see another guy moving forward. He could be the first one's twin. He too is naked by the time he stops in front of Ares, and he has a flask of oil in his right hand. I look back at Caesar, and then I see them. The audience. Young men, ten or maybe twelve of them, all blond, clean-limbed, smooth-shaven and beautiful, sitting obediently behind Caesar's throne, watching Ares with hungry hot eyes, every now and then darting a glance at Caesar, hoping, wishing, praying, that he'll pick *them* next.
And as I look back at Ares, I can see why. One of the slaves is behind him now, the other in front, and their oiled hands are sliding over his body. Slipping over nipples which harden at the touch, reaching up to his muscular arms bound above him, lingering over every clearly defined muscle where his arms are pulled to the limit of their stretch, then hands seeking down across his stomach, oiled fingers light and promising. The one behind him is moving oil-slick hands across his shoulders and down his back, then pausing on his gorgeous ass. Stroking, rubbing, feeling every inch of that beautiful flesh. Ares is breathing fast, even as he glowers at them. The boy behind him has his eyes closed in exquisite pleasure, kneading that smooth flesh, his tongue moistening his lips and I know he's imagining what it would be like just to move one oiled finger into that tight opening, to loosen it, to have the god at his mercy.
But Caesar has trained them well. His cheeks flushed, his cock oozing, the slave brings himself back and kneels to run his oiled hands down Ares' thighs. Then back up the inside of his thigh, strongly, and I know that Ares almost groans at the sensation. He catches it back in time, and I can see the look in his eyes. He wants to give in to the pleasure, but he knows it's what Caesar wants him to do. So he's silent as the hands move up and down his thighs, moving over his entire beautiful body except for his rigid cock and his balls, oiled fingers sliding into every crevice except one, until his bronzed body is shining in the lamplight, oil-slicked muscles gleaming, and his head is back, long midnight black hair falling back to reveal the earring glinting in the lamplight, as he hangs in his chains, his dark dark eyes still fixed on Caesar.
Reluctantly the two boys obey Caesar's unspoken order and take the flask of oil and leave the god. And then they're laying down on the floor in front of the throne, right in Ares' line of sight as he looks at Caesar, and beginning to oil one another. Hands glide over one another's smooth bodies, then tongues flick out to tease erect nipples before one moves to hands and knees between the other's legs and pliant lips close around that hard quivering flesh.
There's an almost imperceptible move from Caesar and another of the slaves stands up, leaves his loose tunic behind and walks towards the two. Without any ceremony, he pushes his hard cock straight into the tight ass raised so invitingly in front of him. With the softest of moans around the hard cock in his mouth, the boy he's in is coming all over the one beneath him. And then it's a fucking floor show. Literally. All except two of the young men are joining in at Caesar's command, licking, sucking, fucking, beautiful bronzed oiled bodies gleaming in the lamplight, soft moans and sounds of pleasure rising in the air.
Gods, it's hot in here. But I want to know what Caesar has in store for Ares. Ares' cock is straining at the sounds and sights in front of him, he's pulling at the chains holding him, but he can't move.
Without taking his eyes off Ares, Caesar reaches out a hand. One of the two slaves left immediately gets to his feet and places something in it. Poor bastards, I think - what did they do wrong to miss out on it all? I can't see straight away what Caesar's got in his hand, but as he gets to his feet I can see it, a coiled leather whip. There's another signal that I don't see, and one of those two slaves is slowly peeling Caesar's tunic from him, taking his time as the golden skin is revealed under his hands, while the other pours oil into his hands, warms it there for a moment and then starts to slick it over Caesar's body. My own breath is coming fast at the sight of the slim young man on his knees in front of Caesar, hands running over that hard body, and as I glance at Ares, I can see what the sight's doing to him. Even if the jerk of his cock hadn't, the heat in his eyes and the lust on his face gives it away.
And then Caesar's moving forward, and in one smoothly casual move his whip snakes out. The lash flicks Ares' face. The god hisses in pain and satisfaction, and the blood from his cut cheek starts to drip down onto his lips. His tongue comes out and licks it off, his eyes closing momentarily. Caesar takes the opportunity to send that wicked lash writhing around Ares' body again, the tip stinging one hard nipple. Ares' groan fills the tent.
Caesar's smile is beatific. That's what he's been waiting for. The tip of his cock glistening in the lamplight, Caesar again orders those two slaves to his will. No words spoken, but they understand him. Kneeling before Ares, they concentrate on the god's balls, licking, sucking, then taking it in turns to take them in their mouths, beautiful blond figures against his dark muscled body, velvet tongues and hot mouths wrapping around Ares.
Ares is almost moaning, almost, somehow controlling it, only an occasional groan escaping him. Until Caesar starts to play Ares' body with his whip, the lash wrapping round him in a deadly caress. As Ares groans, Caesar's wrist flicks more strongly, the lash kissing and biting at the same time, stroking over his skin while drawing blood. And the sight of that naked mortal walking around the chained-up god, his legs and ass hard with muscle, his cock as arrogant as he is, his eyes flaring with excitement each time he sends that lash hissing around Ares' body, is turning Ares on even more. And all the time those other slaves, those beautiful beautiful slaves, are fucking one another on the floor, coming over one another, soft moans and whispers of unbearable pleasure escaping as they watch the god bleed and they fuck.
Caesar starts to whip him harder. Not caring that some of the blows fall on the slaves kneeling between Ares' legs sucking his balls, he starts to let the whip fly with full force at Ares. And the god's moaning constantly now in pain and pleasure as the whip cracks and blood drips down him, mixing with oil and sweat as he yanks convulsively at the chains holding him.
Then Caesar's throwing the whip away and is ordering the two slaves kneeling in front of Ares to their knees in front of him instead. He shoves his cock deep in the mouth of one of them, thrusting hard and deep into him, all the time watching Ares. Ares is breathing so hard I think he's going to come, but he controls it. Not a sound as he watches Caesar's hard cock shoving into the slave's soft mouth. Then Caesar's throwing the slave aside and fucking the other one's mouth. Then that slave too goes to one side and Caesar's walking up to Ares and looking him straight in the face.
"Tell me you want it Ares."
The god's head goes back and he glares at Caesar, his dark eyes burning with anger and lust.
Caesar's hand trails lightly through the blood and sweat on Ares' chest. "Tell me you want it Ares," he repeated, his voice a commanding caress, "Tell me you want my mortal cock fucking your godly ass. That's all you need to do."
Ares growls something at him. Caesar lifts one delicate eyebrow and he steps back from the god.
With a sign, he has one of the slaves in front of him, on hands and knees, offering his smooth tight ass to Caesar. "Last chance, Ares," Caesar informs him. "It's him or you."
Caesar's rigid cock is jutting towards the slave's beautiful body, a body made for pleasure. "Tell me Ares." It's a whisper, hot, sliding around Ares' body, and slipping into his mind. "Tell me."
"I want you." A hoarse parody of Caesar's liquid voice.
Caesar smiles. Triumph, power, blinding through him to erupt in a dazzling smile. Without another word he moves around behind Ares. "What do you want Ares?" He thrusts lightly against the god's ass, reminding him.
"Your cock. Inside me. *Now*."
A shove and Caesar's inside Ares. No preparation, no lubrication, just a brutal entry that has Ares groaning helplessly. Then Caesar has hold of Ares' hips and is shoving harder and harder, pulling back and slamming in to Ares' tight ass as hard as he can, shoving deeper with each thrust as the god moans, legs braced immovably in his chains, muscles rigid as he pulls against the restraints, until he's coming, his cum spurting from his cock as Caesar plunges savagely again and again harder into the god. Then Caesar too is coming, pumping helplessly into the god's ass as he shoots his hot cum into it.
He's still for a moment afterwards, panting, then disengages from Ares and walks away. "Nice fuck Ares," he compliments offhandedly as he gestures for one of the slaves to re-robe him. And the God of War is left there in his chains, covered in sweat, blood, cum and oil.
Not for long though. Before Ares has had a chance to think himself clean, four of the slaves are disentangling themselves from the writhing pile on the floor and moving towards him. One kneels in front of him, one behind, and the other two remain standing and lean into him, one on either side. And they start to lick him clean. Moist hot tongues licking Ares' warm muscular body all over, licking off the sweat from his legs, his inner thighs where his legs are held apart by the chains. A wet tongue lapping at the flesh around his nipple before glancing across it, then wrapping around it, licking it clean. And the slave standing on the other side does the same with the other nipple, by now erect and longing for his attention. The one behind Ares is snaking his tongue up the trail of cum that's dripping from him, a questing moistness licking his ass, probing as it cleans, while in front of him a raspy tongue flicks out over his sensitive balls. No hands touch him but they are so close to him he can feel their heat and the desire that each of them has for him.
Helpless in his chains, Ares is hard again as those tongues work over his entire body. The slaves that have been left behind on the floor are watching every move voraciously even as they continue pleasuring one another. They can't take their eyes off the slave whose task it is to lick Ares' cock clean. His velvet tongue wraps as far as he can reach around the hot rigid shaft, taking his time, eyes closing as he tastes the god's cum. Then he's running his moist tongue up and down the entire length of that thick shaft, licking dedicatedly at the swollen tip, dipping into the moist slit, eyes again closed in delirious pleasure at the sensation. And Ares is breathing hard as he yet again pulls against the chains imprisoning him, driven wild by the feel of that hot insistent tongue, by the tongues licking and probing his body, the sight and sound of the slaves in front of him still fucking and coming, and seeing Caesar sitting on his throne, his robe open so that he can stroke his own cock as he watches.
Yeah, it was a shame about Caesar. He was the first mortal I liked. I'm still pissed off that I had to arrange his death. But Ares was getting too into the whole thing with Caesar - enjoying the challenge of someone as power-crazy as that, who treated Ares as a hot fuck, not a god. Caesar wasn't scared of Ares. Not at all. But he knew how powerful Ares was. Ares liked that, I think.
Anyway, Caesar had to go. That pathetic Brutus - just born to be manipulated. Once Caesar had bitten the big one, I thought it was my chance. But then Ares hooked up with that king. And that was when I knew I was in real trouble. That bastard Hercules has been nothing but bad news to this family throughout his pathetic miserable existence, and now he does *this*: produces a brother who my own brother can't keep his eyes or other bodily parts off.
The king worries me. He's beautiful - gods, he's beautiful - but pretty-boy fucktoys are ten a dinar. I've seen Ares go through five a night before now. No, there's something more to this one, something I just don't get. Something that keeps Ares going back for more.
Look at them now, sweat sliding down Ares' powerful back, just begging for me to lick it off, his dark hair clinging damply as he pushes into the king beneath him. Ares is groaning with each thrust, his eyes fixed on that beautiful face. And the king, eyes closed, lost in the push and pull deep inside him, and Ares' hand sliding up and down his cock, is crying out helplessly beneath him. "Ares, oh gods Ares, yes..." And Ares is moving quicker, grinding into him, slamming deep inside that tight passage until with an explosive climax the king's cum is shooting over his stomach, his chest, and over Ares. Ares is close, so close to coming. He's trying to control it, I can tell, I can see the tension of the muscles in his ass, but it's too late. He's looking at the king who's still moving beneath him - although he's come he wants Ares to come, wants him to experience the same intensity he did - and the king's moving against Ares' thrusts so he has no chance of stopping. And then Ares is groaning and shooting his cum inside the king, again and again.
And then they're just lying there quietly. Together. *Talking*, for Zeus' sake!
No, I don't like this. Caesar was another one like me; I could fight him on his own terms. This one's different. But he's still just a mortal, this king, when all's said and done. So I'll wait. I've waited this long, I can wait a little longer. Maybe I'll find a way to get rid of him so Ares doesn't suspect me.
But even if I can't get rid of this one, Ares will come back to me eventually. He'll remember how good we were together and he'll come back, I know that. All I need to do is wait. He'll finally realise where he belongs. And then he'll be mine again. One day.