Slave Chronicles: Part One
I don't now what I really expected the day I applied for a position as a slave girl at the Halls of War, but it hasn't been anything like my fantasies. I have a confession - while I am a slave here, my time has been spent mostly cleaning. He has only actually touched me once, and it was the most frustrating experience of my life.
I do not have enough time to finish this story now, but will later - he is due back and there is so much to do here.
I was here for several weeks, being forced to clean the armour, shine the leather, and the usual slave duties, and still, he had not requested my services, if you know what I mean! I was still a virgin when it comes to Ares' attentions, and my heart was just about to break.
Every other slave girl had been quickly made to perform their act of worship at his font, but not me. I went to Thuclides and asked, "Have I done a poor job? Does he find me unattractive in some way?" Thuclides laughed at me. My face reddened at this - I am not Aphrodite, but I have been told I am attractive and rather amply endowed so I could not fathom why.
But I had been forced to witness his many lovers - watching that beautiful body respond to all these slave girls, but never once having the opportunity to sample his wares myself. Thuclides said he would talk to Ares about my frustration and I waited, but nothing. Not a word or sign that he even knew I was alive. I was ready to quit, but then, as a slave, I have no rights. What a fool I had been!
Then one day, as he lay on his bed, with three young and willing slave girls in for a tryout, I was busy cleaning up the floors, when he commanded me to bring him some more wine - can you imagine? He was being blown by one, another was standing over him, while he licked her cunt and still another was sucking his toes. I was so enraged and so damn horny I cried, "Get it your fucking self!"
Well, at that he looked at me with such fury. I thought, "Now you've done it - invited the wrath of the god of war!" I was certain I would be killed with one sweep of his huge sword, but instead, he pushed the girls away, and came to me, grabbing me by my blonde braid and ripping off my slave uniform with one hand, while throwing me on the bed with the other, flat on my stomach.
He put one arm under me and lifted me up, and with no preparation or anything, forced himself into me, making me cry out in pain, he was so huge.
Oh, I must run...
Slave Chronicles: Part Two
I'm back. As usual, none of that sweet nectar for me. Some brunette with cleavage so thick a person could get lost in it! And this time, I got the privilege of WATCHING him fuck a man. But, I'll finish this sad story first.
So there I was, face down on Ares bed, his huge cock up me - my god! I might as well be a virgin. He is so big, I actually bleed, and this seems to please him. "Mmmm" he grunts, "you're nice and tight." Well, I'm used to my ponytail boy. He is a tender sweet lover - he is no Ares!
He is on his knees, holding me up and against him with those burly arms, thrusting in me and I feel no pleasure at all. Nothing - just pure shock and humiliation.
"Sophia," he says, his voice thick, "you have no patience. I'll have to teach to be patient with a god."
So, besides, "Sophia, bring me more wine" that had been the extent of my conversations with Ares. As if to add insult to injury, Thuclides comes in and hustles the other slave girls out, who are watching us with fascination. He comes to the side of the bed and speaks to Ares. The god continues to thrust in me and turns his head to Thuclides. "What is it?" he asks, his voice flat, unemotional. "The king has arrived unannounced." Well! The cock comes out of me so quickly and he is up and at the door, wrapping his robe around himself. "He is here?" Ares asks, his voice hushed and almost startled.
I have not been enjoying this encounter, but to mean so little that he forgets what he was doing! I weep quietly in the bedsheets, only wishing to die or leave this place where I have such little meaning.
He glances over at me absently, as if there was something he has forgotten to do and sees me crying. He seems to take pity on me and comes back, kneeling over me on the bed. "I'll be right out," he says, "Bring the King some wine, Thuclides. Make him comfortable." Thuclides nods and leaves me alone with Ares.
Ares puts his arm under me once again and lifts me back into place, inserting that massive cock back inside me. SO MUCH COCK! He does not fuck me, he just sits there with it in me, as if he is too distracted to continue, and soon, I feel the desire well up inside me from the pressure of it. I want him to move inside of me, I want him to rub my now-swollen clit. Oh, God of War! I am screaming inside my head, "Fuck me! Please! Fuck me!" But nothing...
Then he strokes my cheek, brushing the strands of hair from my face. "I don't have time for this," he says impatiently. Then, don't ask me how it happens, but I come - no thrusting, no fucking, no stroking. His cock is inside me, it is still, he does nothing but lean down and kiss my temple and I COME! I am screaming out loud now, pushing against him as my orgasm peaks, weeping in embarrassment. How could I come with him doing nothing - absolutely nothing to me?
When my shudders finally subside, he slips his still-hard cock out of me and wraps the robe around himself again and leaves me alone on the bed, destroyed. I suppose I should be flattered that he bothered to return, but to be so transparent, to be such a weak simpering female! I should never have volunteered for this duty. I think he despises me for it, yet, why bother with me if he is just going to force me to watch him with all those lovers? Then I realize that he is a sadist and an exhibitionist. And I want him so much, to take me, to make me come, over and over and over. And make me watch him.
I guess that makes me a masochist AND a voyeur, eh?
So, that is the sad story of my first and so far only sexual encounter with my employer. Pretty sad, eh ladies and (are there any gents?) gents? I can't even claim to have touched him myself, although it seems that quite a lot of you have.
Today, only an hour or so previously, he and these two come in to the main chamber where I was seated, with my papyrus roll and quill pen, writing my sad story. I hid the writing materials under an animal skin and picked up a few bowls and plates. "Sophia," he calls to me in that voice, "bring us some fruit and wine." He waits, as if to see if I will pull another "Get it your fucking self" trick, but I have learned my lesson and merely slink off to the kitchen. When I return, the woman is straddling him on the bed - gods, but he works fast. The man stands beside the bed and watches, smiling in enjoyment. I do not recognize him at first, but he is very handsome.
The woman is bouncing happily on that great cock, her huge breasts rubbing against AresÆ hairy chest. He takes them in his hands and squeezes them, kneading them like two great loaves of bread, and then nips at her nipples, licking them and teasing them to twin points. She is moaning with pleasure. "Ares!" she cries, "you are the best damn fuck this side of the Mediterranian." He laughs. "You mean, I'm not the best on either side? I'm crushed." She kisses him. "No, but Pharoah is pretty damn good, and gives you pretty stiff competition!" She laughs at that and kisses him again. "Come now," the man says, moving closer to the bed. He reaches out and strokes the back of Ares' neck. "No one can get it up and keep it up as fast or as long as Ares." She is not talking now, but is focused on her own pleasure, her eyes closed and breath coming in short gasps. "Oh, Ares!" she groans, "you are such a delight!" She comes, her high-pitched whine is annoying to me. She shudders against him and he turns her over and starts thrusting in her. I try to sneak out of the room - his hard butt pumping inside her is not an image I want to keep as this long night looms ahead of me.
"Where do you think you are going?" his voice is so low and menacing I stop dead in my tracks. "I...I thought..." I stutter, not knowing what to say. He turns his head slightly and grits his teeth, "Excuse me Drusilla, but I am teaching this one a lesson." She is silent, and I wonder if she is passed out. "I didn't say you could go" he continues. "Come here and watch. Learn some patience."
Oh, gods! How long will I be forced to watch him like this? I rub my thighs together and squeeze my cunt muscles as my clit throbs. I am getting to know his orgasms, without the actual pleasure of being a physical part of them. I can almost tell when he is ready, when he starts to lose his concentration on events around him. "There he goes now" I think, as his head goes back and his eyes close. And his face looks like he is in pain and he cries out as if in pain and I know this is a good one. Then he yells something incoherent and I am almost breathless watching him, my insides feel so swollen that I could almost come just standing here.
Well, they are finished and calling for more wine and more food, so I had better run or who know what will happen. Oh, I forgot, the man, he was some roman dignitary and that was his wife. Imagine that? Ares fucking a couple. He will fuck anyone.
Slave Chronicles: Part Three
So I am standing there, witness to another of Ares' monumental orgasms, shaking in anger and humiliation, my own needs unmet. I feel that I hate him more than anything else in this world. I weep quite uncontrollably. Images of myself taking Ares sword and running it through him haunt me. But they fight for ascendence with others - images of myself in Ares' embrace, his mouth on mine, those brawny arms crushing me against him.
"Why do you keep her around, Ares? I find her quite distracting," Drusilla asks, and stretches lazily, obviously having regained a semblance of consciousness after that orgasm. Ares does not look at me. He shrugs and kisses her breast. "Just breaking in a new slave. It's a diversion of mine. This one thinks I owe her something. Comes from a good family, good breeding. Thinks she is entitled."
"Ha," Drusilla laughs. "They're the worst kind. Why bother? There's plenty of others around who would be quite glad to be given the pleasure of watching you, Ares."
"Indulge me, Drusilla." Ares laughs with her. "Breaking this one in will be all the more ... rewarding."
He licks her nipples again and she leans back and smiles.
Her husband, a senator named Flavius, is getting impatient. "Well, you two are having quite a nice discussion, but I would like to remind you that this was a threesome, not a pair event." Ares rolls off Drusilla and lies on his back. He puts his hands behind his head and smiles at Flavius, who smiles back and sits beside the god.
"You two certainly take many liberties with me" Ares comments as Flavius runs a finger down his chest from the collarbone to the pelvic crest.
"You love it, Ares," Drusilla says, her voice tired, sated. She stands up from the bed and breezes by me. "I need some food, girl. Get me some wine as well. And a bath."
I move to serve her, relieved that I have a reason to leave this place for even a few moments, but Ares intervenes before I get even two steps away. "Sorry, Drusilla. I have plans for her. Call another slave in if you can't find the plate of food and the jug of wine there on the table for yourself." I turn to Ares but he is not looking at me. Flavius is now seated very close to Ares and they are kissing. I can see Ares tongue snaking in and out of the senator's mouth, licking his lips, his teeth takes hold of the senator's bottom lip and restrains him. He lets go and the senator winces in pain but kisses Ares even deeper. The Ares pulls away and turns to look at me.
"See this slave, Flavius. Is she not attractive? Well, here," he says, and my slave uniform, a shapeless sack of a muslin dress disappears, "she is a little more appealing this way." My clothes are replaced by a gossamer sheath that displays my breasts and is slit high on the thigh. Jeweled bracelets line my arms and my long blonde hair is done up with jewels as well, with a thousand ringlets falling over my shoulders and down my back. I look at myself in wonder.
"Yes, she is not too hard to look at, and those breasts are quite nice. Pert, wouldn't you say? She's young."
The two regard me and I feel my face grow hot under their gaze. "I want you to fuck the poor thing" Ares says. "She is quite miserable and needs it." Flavius turns to Ares and there is a pout on his handsome face. "But I want..." Ares puts a finger up to the senator's lips and stops him from speaking. "You'll get what you want. Give me what I want."
"Why don't you do the honors..." Flavius asks, his voice still hurt. "I wanted to fuck ..." Again, Ares stops the senator with a finger to the lips. He shakes his head. "No one fucks me" he says quietly, "I fuck." The senator sighs. Dominance is once again re-established. The senator turns to me. What do you want me to do to her, Ares?" he asks, as he gets up off the bed and comes to stand next to me. He pinches my nipple and smiles as I wince. He takes my chin and turns my head from side to side, looking at my profile. Then he opens my mouth with his hands. I pull away, angered at this treatment.
"I am not a horse"
The senator steps back at this and looks surprised. I turn to Ares, in fear that I have once again said the wrong thing, but he only lies back on the bed and laughs out loud. He runs his hands down his marvelous body as if pleased with its strength and beauty. His hands rest on his cock which, even in repose, is majestic. He turns his face to me and there is amusement in his eyes. I look away. I don't want to be fucked by this senator. Ares will deny me again! How I hate him!
"A plain conventional fuck. Can you manage that?"
"I don't know if I want to" the senator says, taking my nipple again between his finger and thumb and pinching even harder this time. I cry out in pain. Ares stands up and comes over to Flavius. He is so tall, towering over the Roman by almost a foot. Ares rests his hand on the senator's shoulder while the other hand slips around the senator's waist and down to his crotch. Ares rubs the bulge under the senator's tunic and I watch as the senator's eyes close at the god's touch. Ares leans down and nibbles on the senator's neck and the senator moans as his clothes disappear.
"Lie on the bed" Ares commands. At first, I think he is talking to the senator, who is the obvious target of Ares attention. I am a statue, mute and in a daze as I watch him touching another man for the first time. It is so amazing to see these two together - two beautiful male bodies, prime male flesh, both bronze and strong. I am drawn to this image before me - it arouses me in a way I would never have thought possible. Ares strokes the senator's cock and his erection grows large in Ares' hand. I watch as Ares expertly spreads some semen over the head, making it slippery. His fingers tease the bulging head, then stroke the shaft quickly. The senator groans again. I feel my own clit respond to that groan and my muscles clench.
"I said, lie down on the bed" Ares repeats, and it is then that I understand he means me. I rush over and stand there stupidly. "How..." I say, confused. I am not sure if I am to lie on my stomach or my back.
"On your back" he replies, and I comply. "On the edge" he adds. "Spread your legs" he continues, while he bites the senator's neck. They follow me to the bed. The senator looks down at me, seeing my open thighs and he smiles. "Lick her" Ares demands and the senator bends down and places his arms under my thighs and spreads my inner lips with his hands. I cover my eyes - I am so horrified and so turned on at the same time.
"Sit up and watch" Ares demands. I prop myself up and watch the senator licking me, but I feel curiously disjointed as if the sensation and the image are not in sync. I feel his hot tongue lick my swollen clit and feel as a finger slips into me but my brain does not process any pleasure for a second or two. I can not help but gasp in spite of myself when the pleasure finally sinks in. I am so aroused, so swollen inside that his licking brings me to a very quick and very powerful orgasm and I am shaking and my thighs clench around the senator's head. Then I do cover my face and weep again, utterly embarrassed at how quickly I come.
The senator stands up and Ares turns him around and they kiss deeply. I watch as Ares' hands grab the senators ass and knead the cheeks, separating them and squeezing them together rhythmically. Then one hand goes to the small of the senator's back and pulls the senator close, while the other slips between the cheeks, in the crack, and move up from the bottom to the top, the index finger deep within.
Then Ares turns the senator around and pushes him forward to me. "Fuck her" he demands. I look at the senator and his face is red and his eyes glazed. He complies, bending over me. "Put your legs around him" Ares tells me and I do. The senator enters me, his long cock slips into my slick cunt. He thrusts a few times as if getting his bearings, but I know where he really wants that cock. He is not really fucking me, I think. He is fucking Ares - in his own mind. That is fine. I close my eyes and imagine that it is Ares who is fucking me, but I remember how huge Ares was and I know it is not him.
"Keep your eyes open" Ares demands. I comply. I feel nothing. Just the senator's motion inside of me. Then Ares comes up behind the senator and I see the senator finally respond. I watch as Ares licks his fingers and lowers them behind the senator. I know that Ares is now entering the senator's ass and the senator groans just as I did that day when I felt Ares' hugeness in me for the first time. Tears form in the senator's eyes from the size of the god. Then Ares thrusts inside the senator, and with each thrust, the senator is propelled into me. Finally, I feel myself respond. The pleasure comes from out of nowhere - as if there is some connection between myself and Ares - the senator is the conduit. I feel the senator's cock expand inside me - he is so turned on by being fucked by the god of war, he gets harder - probably harder than he has been in his life.
Ares leans over the senator and nuzzles his neck, licking his shoulder. Then he lifts his head and his eyes sear into me. He does not turn away but stares, and with each thrust, he crushes the senator deeper into me. I feel like I am being fucked by Ares - finally! And with each thrust, both the senator and I are getting closer to our separate orgasms, neither one of us really fucking the other - it is a fuck in body only. Both our minds are in the same place - the god of war.
I can't stand the intense pressure any longer. Stabs of pleasure shoot down my legs and into my belly and I can't stop screaming as I come. And the senator comes as well, tensing, his breath caught in his throat, a grimace on his face. My cunt grips him and squeezes him as I convulse. Then the god's thrusts increase in tempo and he shouts so loud I fear the walls will come caving in. He falls on top of the senator and they both crush me, but I am glad of their weight on me.
Drusilla claps her hands. "Bravo! Well played, Ares! By all rights, that should have been me on the bottom, but your cock felt so good earlier, I don't mind too much."
Ares stands up and pulls the senator up with him. They leave me on the bed, slave that I am and turn to their wine and food. I am forgotten and still have not been truly fucked by him, although I feel that I have come as close as I am going to.
That feels like the lesson I have been given today.
Slave Girl, Halls of War
Slave Chronicles: Part 4
So my month is up and I have a day pass to visit my home, and I can hardly wait to see my pony-tailed boy again! To finally be fucked by someone who wants me û who loves me! Not ignored by some rutting sadist who delights in my humiliation. I rush out past Thuclides, but he grabs my arm. "Ares wants you" he says, knowing that I am just ready to leave.
"Sorry!" I say, grabbing my bag and pulling out of his grasp. "I'm outta here, and I don't think I'll be coming back" He shakes his head. "You are not permitted to leave, Sophia" I turn almost at a run and head towards the door. "Watch out!" he yells, but it is too late for me to stop my momentum and I crash into an invisible barrier, knocking myself out in the process.
I wake up on the bed, and have the sorest head imaginable. I look at my slave uniform. It is stained with blood and at first I wonder whose blood it is, then remember. I reach up and feel the cut on my forehead, now bandaged. I lie back and curse his name. Thuclides comes in and sees that I am conscious again. "How are you feeling? You took quite a nasty bang on the head. I tried to warn you but you were in too great a haste. Now you have angered the god. You are quite useless" He shakes his head and hands me a draught of something medicinal. I sip it and make a face, wishing it was poison. "What is this stuff?" I ask, as I put the cup down. "It will ease your headache. Drink it. Ares wants you back in form as soon as possible."
I sit up and throw the concoction on the floor. "Fuck Ares." Thuclides shakes his head again, and I regret doing that foolish thing and immediately get up and start mopping the liquid up with a sheet from the bed. I hurry--there is no telling when the god might appear. I am trying to dry this mess up when I feel the heat in the room increase and I look up at the pair of black leather boots in front of me and swallow hard. "Making work for yourself?" his voice booms, and I can feel the anger in it. Why can't I control myself?
"My mother always said I was impetuous" I offer and cringe at the impudence in my voice, but I can't help myself--I am so angry at him for preventing me from leaving for the day as is my due. He says nothing, just watches me clean up my own mess. Finally done, I stand up and look at him directly, but it takes all my strength for he is so beautiful. I can barely restrain myself from lunging at him and wrapping my arms around him. I hate him.
"Why won't you let me go!" I demand, amazed that I have the will to say such a thing to him. He doesn't get mad. Instead, he seems amused at my conflicting emotions. "Tell me, Sophia, what were you planning to do with that lover of yours?" He watches me, a small smile touches the corners of his full mouth. Seeing that smile makes me want to strike him and kiss him, biting that full bottom lip as I saw him bite the senator. "You already know" I reply and he smiles. "Sorry to ruin your plans but I have some of my own" he says, watching for my over-response, which I provide. "I'm in no shape to watch you fuck your lovers" I say, returning to the floor to mop some more. I hear him chuckle -- he is such a bastard!
"I'll have to disappoint you--I want you to polish my sword. You have developed quite a skill at this task since you have been in my employ, and I have an important battle to attend." Fuck YOU! I scream to myself, get a fucking water boy to polish that damn sword! I stand up, unable to control myself. "You mean," I start, my face red with anger. I see Thuclides come in the room. He sees me and shakes his head, but again, I cannot heed his warning. "you have prevented me from going home so I can polish your fucking SWORD!" Ares smiles at my anger. I imagine it appears petty compared with the rage he has felt on the battlefield.
"Frankly, I wanted to deny you your lover's embrace. You seemed to be looking so forward to it, I couldn't resist."
Then I lose control of myself and lunge at him, striking at him with my fists, trying to scratch at him with my nails, but he merely grabs hold of my hands and restrains me as if I was a child. Compared to his bulk, I am as I am only a shade over 5 feet tall. I twist and turn in an attempt to gain my freedom, but do not succeed. "I hate you!" I scream at him and it is both the truth and a lie, and I finally give up. His hands are too strong and his grip is bruising my wrists the more I struggle. I stand and weep again û how he makes me weep! "Leave me alone, let me go! You don't care about me! I am nothing to you-- I can be replaced in a moment!"
"Yes, that's right. You finally understand" he says and shakes me. I look up at him, and realize that in my heart of hearts, I want him to care about me, to want me, to feel desire for ME. I want to mean something to him, the way he has meaning for me. But of course, he is a god and I am a foolish mortal, no-one in particular, nothing special, I have no importance. Why would Ares even bother with me? I am so proud of my family's status and my brains and my beauty that I imagine this god would deign to notice me! What a total fool I have been. And to have left my sweet ponytail for this! This humiliation? Ares is right. I finally understand.
Then the fight is out of me completely. The god senses this and lets go of my hands. He turns and leaves, and as he does, he speaks to Thuclides. "See to it that she does a good job on my sword." Thuclides nods and turns to me, shaking his head. "You are lucky to escape with your life."
I sigh. "No, you're wrong. My life isn't even worth the effort it would take to kill me. Not to Ares."
"Count yourself lucky then."
So I am in the temple annex, sitting on the floor in front of the hearth, polishing that damn sword. It is huge. I can barely pick it up with both my hands. I marvel at him-- to wield this as effortlessly as he does! It arouses me just to think of him on the battlefield, swinging it as he sits on his horse, chopping off heads, slicing through bodies. Blood everywhere.
Why does this arouse me? It is this place, it is proximity to this weapon of his that does it. I scrub the blood and muck off the blade and then remove the small rents in it with the soap stone. Then, I stand up, and try to lift it and only with great effort do I succeed. I hold it up and feel its weight strain my arms and chest muscles. It feels so good in my hands, as if it gives my body power, and I feel this power surge right down to my cunt. I close my eyes. Oh! To be a man, powerful, impassioned, lusty! To take what I want as Ares does. To have a cock, to feel it stiffen, to feel someone's mouth on me, sucking me, making me ejaculate!
I am so aroused, my breath is short and my head feels strange and all I can think of is relieving myself. I put the sword down and pass Thuclides in the hall. "The sword is polished. I am feeling ill, and am going to sleep for a while." He nods and I hurry to my room at the back of the temple. It is small and dark with a small cot against the wall. I strip off my clothing and sneak under the blankets.
I can hardly wait to stroke myself --I feel so full and swollen from the thought of Ares, from the feel of the sword, from my anger earlier that I can tell I will not take long to come. I don't, but it is such a hollow feeling when it arrives. I want to be filled by a hard cock, I want to feel skin against my own, I want to feel hot breath against my neck. But there is only me, I am empty and shiver as my orgasm ceases. I think of my ponytail, how he always bit and licked my neck just as I would start to come and this always sent me into greater ecstasy. HE delighted in my pleasure! HE felt desire for me. And then I am weeping again - -the fool that I am, weeping for my sweet lover and in fear that I will never leave this place and see him again.
I get up and dress. I need some food and a glass of wine to comfort me. As I walk through the halls, I contemplate my escape from this place. I have learned my lesson-- if that is what Ares wanted me to do -- learn my place and my importance. I will try to talk to him -- perhaps he will listen when I confess. I look in his room and see him sitting on his throne. He holds the sword in his hands as if it is a feather, and examines the blade carefully.
"Feeling better?" he asks. He doesn't look at me -- thank the gods! My face flushes. Does he know? No. I told Thuclides that I was not feeling well and needed a rest. That is what he means.
"Ares," I start, "I want to talk to you." He turns the sword over in his hands. "I am too busy" he replies, putting the sword down and examining his fingernails. Bastard! "This will only take a moment"
He smiled. "Yes, things don't take very long with you , do they?" He turns and looks at me, tongue in cheek. FUCK YOU! I think. He will not bate me this time. "Not long at all, except when it comes to getting some sense in that skull of yours."
"Ares! You have proven to me how completely insignificant I am to you, how meaningless my life is, what a weak fool I am. Let me go."
He stood up and took the sword and replaced it in the scabbard at his side. He was dressed and ready for battle - his leathers shone and caressed his muscles. Gods. I had just come less than an hour ago but was already feeling that familiar swelling inside. "I told you, I have no time for this." He walked by me without even looking at me, and I smelled his musk as he passed. It made my clit throb.
"Ares!" I insisted, exasperated at his refusal to even acknowledge my request. "For pity's sake! Let me go!"
He grabbed me by the arm and squeezed, pulling me around and against him. "I only pity those who deserve it." He thrust me away. I watched him leave the room, anger rising in me in spite of my resolve. He turned back and considered me. "You still haven't learned."
"Learned what?" I cried in frustration. "Patience," he replied. Then he came back to me and looked down at me. He was so close I could feel his breath on my forehead. My eyes stared into his throat and all I wanted to do was bite it and lick it as my ponytail did to me. Oh, fuck me, you bastard! I cried inside. I stood there, silent, waiting for him to do whatever. Nothing, something, anything. But only do it to me-- make me feel significant!
He crossed his arms and looked at me. I raise my face and meet his eyes. Just the sight of them sent a shock of desire through me.
"You seemed to like the feel of my sword in your arms. Perhaps you would like to join me in the battle today" he began, a smirk on his face. Had he seen me, holding his sword up in the air? Damn him! "No, I am a woman, I would be killed in an instant." He laughed and I looked down. "f you were alone I might agree. But with the God of War, you would be quite safe." He watched my face. "Care to watch a god at war, Sophia? To be part of a battle? It's quite-- stimulating" he said, lifting my chin up. The idea of watching him fight was such a turn on! How could I say no?
And now, as I unwrap the bandages on my cut and bruised arms and legs, I rue my decision to enter his room to ask for his ear. I am sore all over, everywhere but the one place I want to be sore. I should have realized he would take another opportunity to humiliate me.
Slave Chronicles: Part 5
"You want me to join you in battle?" I asked, breathless. He smirked. "No, but you certainly want to, don't you?"
FUCK YOU! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!
"Yes, I do" I reply as calmly as possible. Before I know it, I am dressed in a suit of leathers designed specifically for a woman, the pants tight at my crotch, the bodice crushing my ample breasts upwards. The bodice is laced tightly and cut to support my breasts, revealing my pink nipples. I cover them up with my arm.
"I can't go into battle looking like this!" I protest, although the bodice is making me very aroused, to see my own breasts displayed so well. "No, you can and you will" he replies, moving my arm out of the way and leaning down to lick each nipple in turn. Then he straightens and strides off. "Follow me" he commands. Oh, gods. I can barely stand it – the idea of fighting beside him. I feel behind me and there is a smaller version of his sword attached to my back. I pull it out and feel its weight in my hands. It feels just perfect. I sweep it around, holding it with both hands as I have seen him do with his own sword when he has picked it up after I clean and polish it. Gods! It arouses me. He turns and looks at me, watching as I swing the sword. "Come on," he commands, "you'll have plenty of time for that on the battlefield."
I follow him and he goes out to the stables. A stable hand leads a huge black stallion to Ares and the horse stamps when he sees the god. The stallion is saddled up and Ares mounts him in a move so smooth it seems effortless. I look for my own horse, but there is none. The god offers his hand to me and I give it to him. He pulls me up and I plop in front of him, sitting sideways. "Put your leg over and face the front." I do as he says and one arm goes around my waist. I hold on to the saddle, my heart is pumping so fast I feel dizzy. Gods! To ride on Ares' own horse with Ares' own body behind me, his arm around me! Am I dreaming? Perhaps this is a hallucination brought on by my head injury. Ares leans down and bites my bare shoulder till the skin breaks. I cry out in pain. "You're not dreaming" he says, getting my attention. Then he licks the wound, licks my own blood. He turns my face around with his gloved hand and kisses me, and I taste my blood on his tongue – it is metallic and salty. It arouses me even more. He is smiling at me, knowing my heart, knowing what will arouse me. Bastard!
Then we are off and I hold on tight as the great horse gallops away. I feel Ares body behind me, and the motion of the horse under me and the god's hand squeezing my breast, his other arm holding the reigns. The wind whips strands of my blonde hair into my face, but it is in a braid and does not get in the way. The sun feels warm on me, heating up the leather of my clothing. Can anything feel better than this? Have I ever felt this alive? My heart pounds and I feel a scream of pleasure at life building in me, it becomes so great I can't restrain it and I yell out and laugh so hard I feel I am losing my mind! I hear his own laughter behind me - I know he is pleased at my exuberance. It is the first honest response I get from him and it stops me, quieting me. I close my eyes and lean back against him. I have such desire for him! Then, as if to bring me out of this place I am in, to bring me back to reality, he takes off a glove and pinches my exposed nipple hard - hard enough to remind me that I am a mere mortal and ultimately of no consequence to him. My pain is just as appealing to him as is my pleasure - either will do. There will be no love from him, only amusement or anger or nothingness. It is the latter I fear.
We ride for an hour, down hills and over dunes until we reach the beach. Along the beach we ride for another while and then I see the port town in the distance and beyond it the smoke from fires on the battlefield, and my pulse quickens. He says nothing to me as we approach the ruins and I stare down at the dead bodies littered along the beach. These men are darker skinned than we are, their battle dress is foreign and I know nothing of them or why they are considered the enemy. But they are - that is all that matters and I wonder when I will see Ares kill his first human. He stops the horse and gets off, lifting me down after him. He stands and surveys the carnage. I watch him closely and note that his skin is now flushed and his nostrils flared as if aroused at the sight of death and destruction. His arousal inflames my own.
"You have never killed, Sophia. Hardly even harmed another person or living being. Are you so sure you want this experience?" I nod, but inside I hope that I can be strong when it is required. We step around bodies and I am horrified at what I see. Swords create such havoc on the human body - slicing into sinew and bone with ease, splitting skin, spilling guts. One man is disemboweled in front of me, and I see that his eyes are still open. Is he yet alive? I can not believe one could live with their innards on their lap like this. I turn away and retch, and Ares holds my neck as I empty my stomach. "Oh, gods." I gasp. Ares hands me a cloth and I wipe my mouth, and take a drink from the wineskin he offers me. I rinse my mouth out and spit, then take a long swallow.
"I am sorry, I..." I begin, horrified that I last no longer than a few minutes before displaying my weakness. He says nothing. "Take your sword," he commands me, and I look at him, confusion on my face. "Take it!" he insists and I remove it, holding it in my hand. "Kill him." I look down at the dying man. His eyes meet mine and I know that he welcomes this death - that it will be a sweet relief from his suffering. "How should I do it? What is the quickest way?" I whisper, waiting for the god of war to teach me how to kill quickly and with mercy.
The god looks at the dying man. "Through the heart. His death will be almost instantaneous." I nod and place the tip of my sword against the man's chest. He closes his eyes and I bear down with all my weight and feel as the sword's razor- sharp point slices through fabric and then skin, tissue and bone. The man emits a gurgling moan and slumps, finally free. I stand, staring at him and feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I can not stop them, they are spilling over and I am weeping. He must think I am such a weakling - to cry like this. He is the God of War and has killed thousands. I can not look at him.
"All mortals feel this emotion at their first kill. Especially those with a heart."
Ares takes my sword and rubs some of the man's blood on his hand and then drives the sword into the dirt. He lifts my face, and wipes the tears from my eyes. Then he smears the man's blood on my forehead and places on bloody finger in my mouth. I lick the blood off and feel a communion with this man whose life I have ended. I almost feel his essence in me, his memories of the battle, the sudden fury of the fray, the sounds of metal hitting metal, of men's cries and shouts, of horses screaming, of death itself.
"Get your sword. Come." I do and follow him back to the horse. We remount and move on, approaching the battle's front line and the din grows the closer we get. My pulse increases once again and I know fear - now I will face death in a different way - in the heat of the moment, the hatred of enemies, the pain of dismemberment and death. Now I am not so certain I want to join Ares. But I fear there is no turning back.
A horseman comes galloping towards us and Ares turns the horse to his right side and his great sword reaches up and meets the sword of his foe. They parry for a moment, their swords clashing, and then Ares tires of this and with a mighty sweep, slices the man's head off. I watch dumbfounded as it topples off and falls on the ground, blood spurting from the stump. I close my eyes and we move on. My body fights two urges - nausea and arousal. Arousal wins out and I feel safe with Ares and want to see more, to witness his strength and prowess.
We come to the top of a hill and have the view of the entire battlefield at our disposal. Ares shelters his eyes from the bright sun and surveys the scene laid out below us. He points to the main line and I see the two armies clashing, a mixture of colors and flags flapping and fires burning, black smoke curling up high in to the sky. "That is our destination." he says to me and I feel fear at the prospect that he will take me there. "Do you want to stay here?" he asks, and waits as I consider his offer. I hesitate. Who am I to even think of being here? These men are soldiers - trained with the sword and horse, their bodies filled with male essences of which I have none, their muscles large and strong. How I love them! I feel I could fuck them all now, reveling in their maleness, their strength. I am but a worshipper of them, I should not be there with them. I fear that to be there would be an insult to them. I look down at my hands on the saddle beside Ares' own large ones - mine are so small and pale next to his. "If you do, I can offer you no protection. For that, you must come with me."
"I will come with you then." I reply, but the blood lust seems to have left me, and now I feel only humility. Here is another lesson for me to learn and I hate him so much for it.
We make our way down the hill to the main lines and fear creeps up into my heart and I am breathless, waiting for the first sword fight. A horseman charges at us and screams in a foreign language. Ares avoids him and thrusts his sword into the soldier's side, knocking him off his horse. The downed man holds his side and groans in agony. Ares moves on and a soldier on foot stabs at me, and succeeds in cutting my thigh, but it is superficial and I realize the benefits of leathers, especially the thickness of the material in the pant thighs. The pain is still severe, but I hold it in, it is so trivial compared to what is ensuing around me.
We move closer to the lines, and Ares fights one soldier after another off with his mighty sword and skillful horsemanship. I feel his great strength against me as he swings his weapon, hear his grunts of effort, his labored breathing. He comments as he fights, "There, you swine!" and "Take this, pig" and "Here's one! Gone to your filthy grave!" His motion arouses me. I can feel the heat of his effort, and smell the sweat as it pours off him, dripping down his face and onto me, onto my shoulder and arm as he leans over me to stab his sword through a grounded soldier. I lick the sweat off my arm and taste its saltiness. I imagine this is how his semen would taste and feel a surge of desire sweep through me. Now I am enjoying this again, and I scarcely feel it as another sword slices through the leather and inflicts a superficial wound on my rib cage.
Then we are blindsided and another horseman knocks us both off the stallion. Ares tries to catch me as he falls, and almost succeeds, but I still hit the ground hard and am winded for a moment, feeling as if someone has jumped on my chest. Ares must reach up above me and fight the horseman off while I recover, and then he runs after the stallion as it takes off. He whistles for it but it does not return and we are grounded. I stand dazed and watch as a horseman comes up to me, his sword brandished. Ares yell to me to use my sword. What can he possibly mean, use my sword? It is a mere butter knife compared to the soldier's own weapon. Still, I take it out and get my grip on it. "What the hell do I do?" I yell at him, "I don't know how to fight!"
He is busy fighting off another foot soldier and I watch as the horseman smiles when he sees I am a woman. He laughs at me and jumps off his horse, lunging at me with a leer on his face. I stick my sword through him and we are both startled as he falls to the ground. I think my breasts may have distracted him and he does not see my small sword, which is now stuck in him, caught between his ribs. I have to put my booted foot on his chest and pull the sword out of him. I look at the blood on the blade. My first real "kill". I wipe it on my leathers and look around. From where does my courage come, I wonder? I look around and can not see Ares and panic sets in. "Ares?" I shout, looking around desperately. Then I see him in hand to hand combat behind a horseman. He thrusts his sword through the soldier and leaps over some bodies and is back at my side.
"What?" he asks, impatient with me. I look at him, exasperated. "Don't leave me! I don't know how to fight!" He pushes me behind him "Just fight! Trust your instincts!" What the fuck does he mean, my instincts? I am a woman! My instincts are to get the hell out of here as fast as possible. But I can't as another foot soldier has noticed my endowments and feels I would be a nice conquest. I raise my sword and meet his, and yet my strength holds and we fight back and forth for a few moments before I slash him in the side. He looks at me in shock and then I finish him off with a thrust. I am liking this now, really liking this and I marvel at my newly found skill. I look over at Ares, and watch as he is fighting with such strength.
Then a horn blasts three times and the enemy retreats, slashing out at us as they ride by and I am fighting with one and I feel such power surging through me as I force him towards Ares and watch as he is caught between us. The soldier stops, looking between the two of us and then I take him, swinging my sword with both hands and behead him. I stand with my sword still raised and am breathing hard, my teeth gritted. I swear my eyes are probably red with passion I feel so wonderful. And then we are left alone in this spot, as the enemy retreats and I march over to Ares and grab him by his long curls that are shiny with sweat and pull him down to me. I kiss him deeply and feel such desire in me I could fuck him right now amidst the dead and dying. He is so hot, and so wet with sweat and blood, and I smell his male musk and feel wild and out of control.
"Fuck me now!" I shout at him, throwing my sword down and reaching in his vest to feel his chest beneath my hands. I kiss him deeply and at first he responds, seemingly caught up in the heat of the moment as well, but then he pulls back. He takes my hands and moves them away and down to my side. A horseman rides up behind me and I turn to look. It is the King. I look up at him - he is so beautiful and majestic, sitting on that royal horse. Ares moves around me and goes to the King's side, his hand rests on the royal thigh.
"An inspiring battle, Ares" Iphicles says, looking over at me. "Who is this with you?"
"No one of importance" Ares replies. As I stand there watching the King and Ares exchange looks of mutual lust, I am destroyed yet again by this god who toys with me as a lion plays with its prey. I watch as Ares pulls the King off the horse and the two kiss and then Ares' arms go around the king in a move of such passion my heart is broken. It is then that I know who Ares loves in this world. And that my next lesson will be to watch Ares as he fucks this king, here on the battlefield, before my eyes.
I don't know if I can bear this lesson, but I can't take my eyes off these two as they kiss. Ares pulls back from the king and brushes the hair from the King's brow in a move of such tenderness. Iphicles' eyes are closed and I know that he is in the god's thrall. But Ares - his response to the king startles me. I realize that even gods can love mortals. I didn't believe it was possible, but now I know. Ares is in love with the King - there is no doubt in my mind, and I feel hot tears on my cheeks. How can I blame him? The King is a vision of manly beauty - the same height as the god but fairer with no beard. He looks refined to Ares' rough masculinity as if some special spirit infuses him. It is this that attracts Ares in addition to the King's looks - something in a mortal soul that to Ares seems out of reach, accessible only through this lover. As if by being a god, Ares has lost something that he can touch only through humans - it is the essence of manhood that Ares can never himself possess - an essence he sees in Iphicles and mourns in himself.
Now Ares is undressing the King, gently and slowly, worshipping the King's body as he removes each piece of clothing. Is he going to make love to the King here, in the midst of the battlefield? With soldiers walking around? They pass us by but seem not to notice the three of us, the two lovers and the weeping voyeur. The king turns to me. "She can see us" he says quietly. Ares turns the king's face back to his own and kisses him. "Don't concern yourself with her" he says between kisses, "she is under my protection and must remain visible to me." Iphicles closes his eyes once again. "Who is she to you?" he insists as Ares kisses the King's collarbones. Ares looks up, impatient now. "She is no one, Iphicles. The daughter of a very wealthy family who I am teaching to fight, that is all. She is no one to me." Iphicles does not question the god again. Then the god's hands are exploring the king's body with hunger in their movements, stroking and grasping him, pulling the king against him. Their two massive erections seem to battle each other and Ares grinds himself against the king. His need seems so great, his desire for this man so strong. I have never seen this in him before, not in all the times I have seen him with a lover. I can barely watch it hurts so much.
Iphicles kneels down before the god and takes that massive cock in his hands, stroking it lovingly, and licking it from the base of the shaft to the head. Ares watches the king's attentions, moaning with such pleasure at the feelings and the sight of his lover licking him. Then the King takes Ares in his mouth and moves on the bulging head, one hand stroking the thick shaft, the other cradling the scrotum. I am dying as I stand here watching the king suck that perfect cock - a position I have only dreamed of being in. And then I know the god is ready - he grasps the king by the hair, not roughly but indicating his need for greater speed and depth, and the king complies and the god's head is thrown back for a moment as he loses control. But he fights to regain it - he wants to watch as the king swallows his semen and he groans and shudders as he ejaculates in the king's willing mouth. And the king does not choke or cough on this gift - he is greedy for it as I would be. I almost swallow with him, in envy. I feel my own body shake as I come myself, and I realize I have been stroking myself through the leather as I watch the king sucking the god's cock.
I cannot stand and fall to my knees I am so weak from my own orgasm, and I bow my head to the dirt and weep in total mortification. I cannot watch them any longer. I feel horrified that I have watched this long - it is as if I am punishing myself, attempting to kill those foolish feelings of desire for Ares, of want for his attention, of hope for his affection.
"I am not finished yet" Ares says to me. What does he mean? He wants me to watch more of this spectacle? He wants to torture me even more? Is there no end to his perversity, his decadence? I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. I want him so badly.
"Watch me, if you ever want to go back to your ponytail boy" he says, his voice low and dark. I look up. The King is bent over a large boulder emerging from the side of the hill. Ares is bent over him, kissing his shoulders, licking the king's spine, one hand strokes the king's cock, the other caresses the king's flank. Ares' own erection is pressed against the king's buttocks and is rubbing in the crack. The king is moaning as Ares strokes him. Then, Ares spits in his hand and rubs the saliva on Iphicles' anus, gently inserting one finger, waiting for the king to relax before inserting another, opening the king, preparing the king for penetration. The king bends down to provide Ares with better access to him, and then Ares positions the head of his cock at the king's anus. He enters the king slowly, but firmly, and the king lets out such a moan of pleasure, and Ares falls forward over the king's back almost in thanks for this response. The look on his face slays me - it is filled with such love and desire. He begins to thrust in the king and moves his head back and forth in such pleasure, his eyes closed, his face revealing so much emotion.
His thrusting becomes more insistent, but all the while he keeps up the tempo on the king's own cock, moving his hand in concert with his hips, bringing the king along with him. I am breathless again, captured by this display of worship, of beauty, of perfection. I see Ares reach his breaking point and hear the king's own orgasm begin. Ares turns his face to me and opens his eyes and I see there are tears in them, and that he wants me to see his love for this king and watch him as his desire overwhelms him. He comes inside the king's body as the king comes in his hand and the two of them yell and shudder together. I can finally breathe again but only wish that I had no breath left and that I could die here, now. I have witnessed a perfection that I will never be able to experience myself. How can I live after this?
Slave Chronicles: Part 6
I sit nursing my wounds, but they are not what hurt, not really. The wounds inside cause me the most pain, and they are the ones no mortal can see. He sees them – he put them there, and they give him some sadistic pleasure, but I am learning that for Ares, sadism is one of the few ways he can feel anything deeply. His love hurts too much for him to face, so he resorts to inflicting pain on us mortals. It offers him something to fill the void, I imagine, for he lives in fear of the emptiness that would otherwise engulf him.
He has presented me with a choice. I have a decision to make, and I believe it will be the hardest decision of my life. How can I make this choice? It is unfair to even ask it of me, but he has never been fair to me, why start now? Let me relay to you the events over the last 48 hours that led to this decision. It is a pitiful tale as all mine are, and I apologize to you if my words cause you pain or revulsion. I feel them both myself.
After watching the god worship at the king's body, I ran off, seeking escape from the images that burned in my mind. I knew that Ares was in love with Iphicles and hated himself for it – to Ares, it was a sign of weakness to love a mortal. He wanted the king's love, of that I was certain. In fact, I believe the god wants - craves - all our love, but must maintain the one-way nature of it for fear of losing his power over us. I hate him, I lust after him, and now, there is a small place inside me that harbors pity for him. I believe if he knew of my pity, he would kill me in an instant. I must try to block it from my mind.
I run along the beach, jumping over corpses and dodging the fires that still smolder. I don't know where I am running, but I need to run, to work off this lust inside of me. Then I see a young man, a healer like my ponytail. He is tending to the wounded, dressing their cuts and bruises. His hair is fair and long, like my ponytail, and he is young and lean, like him as well. He could be my lover but when he looks up at me, I know it is not him. I see the same care and concern in his eyes, and pain from that of the soldiers he is tending. I feel his healer's soul in those blue eyes and I want him to heal me, heal the hurt inside with kisses and caresses and loving words.
He seems shocked at the image I present. Sword in hand, blood and dirt on my leathers, my tear streaked face, my braid almost undone from my efforts. My breasts falling out of the skimpy bodice. He stands up and leaves the soldier and comes to me, looking me up and down. He turns me to one side and examines my side wound. "You are injured. Your wounds needs to be cleaned, closed and bandaged." It is then I realize how weak I am and I collapse on the sand at his feet, my sword dropping out of my hand.
He kneels over me and examines my thigh wound and side wound. "I will have to take this…top off to tend your wound." I nod and feel desire well up in me even now. He unties the laces that hold the bodice together and my breasts spill out and I watch as his eyes linger on them before moving to my ribs. I can't have Ares. This one will have to do. He takes a cloth and pours water over my cut and wipes the dirt and blood away. It stings and I grit my teeth but say nothing.
"Who are you?" he asks, as he pushes my breast out of the way so he can sear the wound closed with a hot knife. I groan as he applies the burning hot blade to my skin and smell the seared flesh. His arm rests against me and despite my pain, I feel myself swell at the thought of him at my breasts, sucking them, licking them. "I am with Ares. He has been training me". This surprises him and he turns back to me. "What are you? Not a goddess? You would not be injured. Are you mortal? Why is the god of war training a female for battle?"
"Don't ask me," I reply, "I only found this out myself today." He bandages my wound and starts to lace the bodice again but I stop him, and take his healer hands and place them on my breasts. "The heat of the battle has aroused me. I want you to fuck me now." I whisper to him as I pull him down to me. His eyes widen at this and he lets me kiss him, my tongue parting his lips and searching for his. His hands, once still, in shock at the feel of my breasts, now awaken, and squeeze me, his fingers stroke my nipples. His mouth moves down to them and he nurses my passion to greater heights. "You want to fuck here? Now?" he says breathless. "Yes!" I cry, and he removes my boots and pants, stopping to examine my thigh wound.
"I'll have to close this up as well" he says, reaching over to his bag of goods, but I take his arm and pull him back. "Later," I insist, taking his hand and placing it between my thighs, "I need this tended first." He complies and his fingers part my labia and find my hard clitoris, stroking it, then his mouth takes me and his tongue thrusts against me and I feel tears once again, wishing it was Ares there not this substitute. But under his ministrations I lose myself in the pleasure. And I am lying there with the healer's mouth on me, his head between my legs, and my hips are moving and my breath is coming out in short gasps. I am almost there.
Now I know how Ares feels - all his lovers - they are mere substitute pleasures for his king. Diversions to pass the time until he can be with Iphicles again. Pure lust replaces loneliness, numbs pain, eases the burden of his lonely existence. I open my eyes and look up to the sky and weep as I come and I see his face above me, those dark eyes staring down at me, a smirk on his evil face. But I can't control myself, and I cry out anyway, our eyes locked together. Before my shudders can even subside, Ares has pulled the healer off me by his shirt and pushes him away. "Go" Ares commands. The healer recognizes the god and starts to speak. "She needs that thigh wound washed and closed." Ares nods and gestures with his arm. The healer picks up his bag and looks at me once before turning away. "I wasn't done!" I cry. I wanted him to fuck me too. "Yes, you were." Ares replies and reaches down to take my hand, pulling me up with such ease it is as if I weigh nothing. I am dressed again in an instant in new leathers, and the horse is beside us. Ares mounts the steed and pulls me up in front of him again. We gallop off, back to the Halls of War, and I must sit there for the ride, with his body against me, his arm around me. We do not speak and I feel nothing, no pain or grief. Just emptiness.
I go to my room, rip off my clothes, throw myself on the bed and fall asleep almost immediately from exhaustion. But soon, I feel an arm on my shoulder and it is Thuclides waking me. "Go to his rooms" he tells me, helping me up. "You've had a nasty cut on your thigh. You had better get it tended soon or it will fester and make you sick." I nod and dress, then make my way to Ares' room, wondering what torture he will inflict on me. He is seated in a large copper bath in front of the hearth and I see steam rising from the hot water. He sees me standing at the door and motions for me to enter. Now what? I think. Will he force me to watch as he washes that glorious body? Arouse me to a frenzy and then throw me out the door, or make me watch as some new slave gets to fuck him?
Ares ducks under the water and then resurfaces. His hair is wet and he squeezes it out, and soon the waves start imposing themselves again, and they fall in black ringlets around his forehead and neck. His thick black eyelashes are wet and stuck together, and his bronze skin is flushed from the heat. He has never looked more beautiful to me as he does now, and I believe he feels his own desirability and wanted me to see him like this. Cruel bastard that he is.
He stands and takes some cake soap in hand and starts to work it into a lather. Will I be forced to watch as he actually rubs that all over his glorious body? Yes, I realize, as he starts at his arms and scrubs under his armpits and then his broad chest. He puts down the soap and looks at me, and then his hands go to his groin and he washes himself slowly, the soap slides down his great thighs, and his black body hair is wet and plastered against him. I feel arousal grow in me – how could I not at the sight of him stroking himself, his hands full of lather.
He smiles at the lust in my eyes. But he is not aroused and merely continues washing himself, his thighs and calves and then sits down, and attends to his feet. "Sophia," he begins, "come. Wash my back." And I want to scream, DO IT YOUR FUCKING SELF! But of course, he can't and the slave that I am, I go over and take the soap in my hands, work up a lather, amd willingly force myself to wash that wondrous back. I run my hands over his deltoids and latissimus dorsi - names I know from my ponytail's study of anatomy. Helping him study, I know every muscle in his own body, having licked and stroked each one to teach him their names. Now, faced with Ares' broad back, I want only to lick every muscle, tracing their origins and insertions with my tongue. When I am done washing him, I take a vessel and rinse him off and then return to the seat again, my legs quite weak from the touch of his bare wet slippery bronze skin.
He steps out and grabs a sheet and wraps it around himself and it is thin and clings to his wetness, draping around his body. I am reminded of the male model I drew in my art class. A young man seated on a pedestal in the center of the room, his nude body draped with a cloth for modesty's sake. Ares is an artist's dream - his musculature perfect, his bones strong and straight, and his skin clear - flawless. I sit entranced by his beauty.
"Come," he commands, "get in yourself. A warrior needs a hot bath after a battle."
Ha! Warrior indeed. I know that it was his power that got me through the battle. He must have given me some temporarily so that I would have the strength to fight and the courage to proceed in the face of such danger. Now I am back to my old self. Weak, cowardly, a small subservient female, his slave. I undress and feel his eyes on me. He stops me on my way to the bath and examines my thigh wound. The blood still runs down my leg - the clot having been dislodged as I undressed.
"I am no warrior," I reply, "you gave me the power and the courage. I would have been sliced down in a moment if you hadn't." He shakes his head. "No, I gave you only strength. The courage was your own. And you loved the feeling it gave you." I consider his words, surprised at what he says.
"Go to the bed" he demands and I look at him in shock - is he actually going to fuck me now? Finally? Does the sight of my blood, my pain, arouse him? But he merely goes to a bag of his and takes out some paraphernalia, bringing it to the bedside with him. "Lie down" he says, placing a small knife in the embers of the fire. He gets a basin of water and a cloth and sits beside me as I lay on the bed. Now his focus is on my wound and he washes it and dries it, examining the edges of the cut carefully. "You do need it closed" he comments and when the blade of the knife is red-hot, he removes it from the fire and looks at me grimly. "This will hurt - quite a lot."
"I didn't realize you were a surgeon as well as a god," I say watching as he lays the hot blade against the wound. I grit my teeth against the pain and groan as he holds it, allowing the heat to sear it closed. He looks up at me and then back to his work. "I have collected many ... experiences in my time." I want to pull away from him, prevent him from continuing the pain is so intense, but I couldn't anyway and try to blow out my mouth as the midwife instructed my sister as she entered the last stage of labor. It didn't work for my sister then nor is it for me now, but it distracts me. Then he is done and clears up his materials. "Come to the tub. You will have to keep this dry." He hands me a cloth and I stand beside the tub and hold it against my wound as he pours the water out of the tub over my head. It spills on the stone floor and I wonder if it will be my job to mop up the huge mess he is making.
Then he lathers my hair and rinses it and I blink as the soap gets in my eyes and stings. Then I feel his soapy hands on me, my shoulders and back, around to my breasts - he lingers here a little longer than required - and then down the small of my back and around to my thighs and legs. Of course, I am almost overcome with desire - he has to know that his touch, the soap, will arouse me. I feel him press his own nakedness against me and feel that huge erection and I know that he will finally give me what I want. This knowledge almost makes me faint with desire but I put my head down and breath deeply.
"Calm down, Sophia." he says, humor in his voice. Then he pulls me back against him, and his soapy hand goes between my thighs and strokes the whole of my pubic area, his fingers sliding between the labia, rubbing my clit. The other hand slides between the crack of my ass, stopping at my anus, circling it before moving lower to my perineum. His mouth is on my neck, then his tongue licks the bite mark he inflicted only this morning. I close my eyes and give myself over to the sensations, trying to blank my mind of all thoughts so there is nothing he can take and use against me. All I know are Ares' hands, his mouth, his body against me, his cock stiff and hard on my back.
The cloth falls off my wound, but I do not notice. Ares does, and he retrieves it and makes me hold it against the wound as he rinses me off again. Then, of all things, he bandages me up, as if all that touching and arousal had no effect on his ability to function, as if his erection does not distract him from his skill in applying a bandage to the wound. I can barely see as he carries me to the bed and plops me down, lying beside me and stroking my breasts with his great hand. I lie there quite incapacitated as he explores my body with his mouth, his tongue penetrating my every orifice. "I liked you better on the battlefield" he murmurs into my cunt. "You should have taken me there, then." I reply, amazed that I can even speak. Then I remember why he didn't take me there when I felt such a response from him to my own desire. The king.
Then my desire is gone, snuffed out as a flame is by a sudden gust of wind. He feels it leave me and looks up from his vantage point, and I search for the anger in his eyes, but there is none - only amusement. "Mortals are never satisfied" he says, standing up and watching me. I roll over on my good side and hide my face. He laughs. "All this time you have only thought of one thing - fucking me. You left your good family, your lover, and your studies to come here in the hopes that I would chose you as a favored sexual partner. Now, here I am, ready to give you what you want, and you decide you don't want me!" He shakes his head at me.
"It's too easy for you, isn't it?" he asks, his hands on his hips, a smirk on his face. "You want a fight, don't you?" He laughs now, but his laugh is angry. This anger sends shivers of fear down my spine, but arousal follows and my face becomes red, my shame at the truth he has spoken shattering my carefully constructed self-image. I don't want him to take me calmly - I want chaos. I want to feel the way I felt on the battlefield - powerful, strong, filled with lust.
"I'm not in the mood for a fight" he says, moving to the door. "The new slave girl looks like a willing partner. She will take whatever I give her."
"NO SHE WON'T!" I yell, jumping off the bed, running after him, and pounding his back with my fists. He turns around and grabs my hands but I kick him in the shins. He merely laughs at me, and I see the amusement in his eyes, and this inflames me even more. ‘You BASTARD!" I scream at him, trying to knee him in the groin. "Sophia! You can't harm me! I am a god!" He laughs as he says this, but it has no effect on me, and I keep kicking at him, and try to bite his wrists to get him to let go of me. "I hate you!"
He lets go of my hands as if curious to see what I will do, and I pound his chest, weeping now in my anger and frustration. He laughs at my tears. "You cry so much, Sophia. You hate being a weak woman, don't you?" This does it for me and I rear back and strike his face with a closed fist, and that, finally, does it for him and he grabs me with enough force to hurt me and slaps me. "You are a fighter" he growls, dragging me behind him and then throwing me on the bed, on my stomach, in a familiar position, but this time I am completely prepared for him. I need no foreplay - the punching and kicking have already prepared me. And then he grabs me and lifts me up and forces himself in me and I scream with pleasure as he thrusts within me, pushing myself back against him, and it takes barely a dozen strokes for me to come. When I do I know there will be nothing to match how I feel. The power of my orgasm almost makes me pass out, and I scream into the bed sheets, my cunt convulsing around him, my nipples as hard as rocks. And it goes on and on and on, and I can't breathe. Finally, I hear him groaning above me and feel his pace quicken and his cock expand inside me as he shoots his seed in me, shuddering from the pleasure of it.
He sprawls on top of me, his breathing still labored. His bite mark on my shoulder has opened in our frenzy and he licks the blood that has welled up from the punctures. "That's more like it" he gasps in my ear.
I feel he has played me as a virtuoso plays an instrument, knowing just how much force to use to get the desired response. I hate him even more now, but know that I will never feel this way with anyone else.
"So," he says as he lies on top of me, his heart still pounding and his breath ragged, "do you want to go back to your healer? To your ponytail? You're free to go if you want." He waits a moment before continuing, biting my neck tenderly. "Or, you can stay here with me. Join me in battle. Train to fight and ride like a man."
"Stay here as what?" I ask, squirming underneath him until he rolls off me onto his side. I lie on my back and look at him. He runs a finger from my chin to the tip of one nipple. "I don't know - distraction, trifle, diversion. Whatever. It makes no difference to me. Don't pester me with details."
I roll off the bed and limp to the fireplace to retrieve my clothing. "I'll think about it" I say, with as much nonchalance as I can muster. "I want to go back to him once before I decide."
"Not possible" he responds. "Decide now."
I turn and look at him, angered at his pettiness. "I can't decide now!" I stomp back to him, and face him, on my hands and knees, my arms on either side of his chest. "I happened to be in love with him before I came here. He's sweet and gentle and loves me." I say, knowing in my heart of hearts that there is no comparing the two - one a mortal healer, the other a god of war. He smiles. "How boring for you."
"But he will always be there for me, when I need him, when I want him. That makes up for a lot."
He turns away and smiles. "Not enough."
"I have to go back to him. I can't make this decision without seeing him once more."
"Sorry. Those are my terms. Take them or not."
"What about my terms?"
He shakes his head and smirks at me. "You still don't understand, Sophia. I am the god. I set the terms."
"And if I insist on going to him once more?"
He rolls off the bed and dresses himself with a thought. He goes to the door and turns to me, smiling at me, a look of satisfaction on his bastardly face.
"You leave this place without my permission and you're gone." And then he is gone in a flash of electric light, leaving me alone to make my decision. Now all I can think of is my ponytailed healer - finding a way to sneak out so I can see him once again, make sweet love with him once more before I become Ares' distraction, trifle, diversion - whatever.
Slave Chronicles: Part 7
Well, Ares left me alone to make my decision --and as I have told you, it is a very hard decision for me, but easy at the same time. How I hate him for his power over me, but I gave him that power -- I came here willingly. But at least I have forced him to make a decision as well. That gives me some sense of pleasure and revenge. Let me tell you the story of Ares' decision. As I do, I will tell you as well about my own.
So I am standing in the annex with Ares' wonderful sword in my hands, feeling its power surge through me and arousing myself thinking of his strong arms hoisting it high in the air in the midst of the battle. I am such a silly silly girl, I think to myself. That damned god! He told Thuclides to make sure I spent extra time polishing it today. I love it anyway -- it always sends me into a near swoon to be touching it knowing that he has killed so many with it. I am a glutton for this pleasure. Thuclides walks in and sees me standing there like an idiot, my face flushed with desire and I am glad that at least he is not a god and can't read my silly mind.
"You better watch yourself with that," he says, the house-mother that he is to us, "you'll cut your fool head off!" I laugh with him and sit down on the floor in front of the hearth and pick up the soapstone, dip it in the water and repair the rents in the sword from yesterday's battle. I sit remembering Ares as he fought so well yesterday, and can almost feel his hot body against me on the horse. Gods! How I enjoyed that experience! And it would have been perfect if only the King hadn't arrived -- to have fucked Ares then in the heat of the moment on the battlefield, with me feeling the way I felt. I squeeze my muscles and can't wait to finish here so I can run like the silly girl that I am back to my room and hide under the covers to relieve myself. If there were any fairness in this world, I would be able to go to Ares and sit on that massive cock of his and relieve myself in that fashion as is my current desire, but the world is not fair and I will have to provide my own relief, as usual. I sigh heavily.
"My!" Thuclides says, "such a great sigh for such a small woman. Tell me, Sophia, I would have thought you would be happy today after all the noise, the punches, the kicks and screams of delight I heard coming from the god's rooms last night." You old bastard! I think, smiling at him. Does he actually listen at Ares' door to Ares' lovemaking? I ask him this very question.
"Thuclides! Do you actually stand and listen at Ares' door?" He laughed as well. "Your screams were a little hard to miss, Sophia. So at last, you got what you wanted from him. Why aren't you happy?"
Ha! I think to myself. I haven't got what I want from him, and never will. "I don't know what I want from him, Thuclides. I don't know my own mind."
"Well, if you don't, who does?"
I see him smile at me indulgently. "He's the god." He replies. I laugh. "He certainly is that. Bastard!" I sigh again. "How I love him and hate him." Thuclides looks at me and then looks down at the floor. He is rearranging a pile of spare crockery. It seems so easy to talk to Thuclides today -- he is usually so quiet and I suppose I am feeling particularly lonely after last night's passion. All I want is to fuck Ares all day and he is gone so I am blue.
"So I imagine you have seen your share of sexual carnage in your service to Ares" I continue. "Any of it spill over your way?" I wonder if he would be interested in helping a little slave girl out, and am disgusted with my own lust. He laughs out loud at that. "Life is certainly interesting working for the god" he replies, throwing an old bowl in a trash container. "Does he give you a slave or two to toy with, or does he even let you touch his slaves?" My, I am being bold, I think, but I expect that Thuclides will either pick up on my hints and indicate an interest or not. I will get relief either way. "Oh, I have pretty much free access to the slaves, Sophia" he smiles, looking at me, raising his eyebrows. So! Another who has not deigned to seek me out. I feel hurt, although I have to admit to never once even considering the old fellow in that way. "Another one who finds me lacking, then?" He looks up at me. "Does it really matter to you that much, Sophia? To have all men desire you?" I hang my head and stop my work. "No," I sigh, "just the one."
I return to the sword and work at a particularly large rent. "I imagine an old man like you has had a great deal of sexual experience" I say, unable to get off this thread. "I've had my share, and I'm not so old that I couldn't please you, Sophia." I look up at him, and feel myself swell at the sound of certainty in his voice. But he makes no move and so I sit and work on the sword.
"You are particularly talkative today, Thuclides. Why are you hanging around here with me?"
"Besides Ares, you are probably the person with the most brains around here." I smile at his compliment. "Excluding your humble self, you mean" I reply. He smiles back and examines an old pot for chips. I turn back to my task but note that in his youth, Thuclides would have been considered an very attractive man. My lust knows no bounds in this place, especially with Ares' sword so close.
"I'M afraid you are mistaken if you think I am intelligent, Thuclides. If I had any brains, I wouldn't likely be here."
He chuckles at this and looks at me. "No, Sophia. That's sense you are referring to. A person can have a great deal of brains but little sense." I nod, noting the difference.
"Why did you come to the Halls of War? You've never told me." I raise my eyebrows. I don't know if I want to tell him my foolish story, but I feel like talking to him so I do.
"Oh, Thuclides! Can you even begin to understand the heart of a foolish girl like me?" I smile at myself and shake my head. "I was smitten on the battlefield, and there was nothing else in my mind from then on. I still remember the first moment I saw him. I was with my sweet Asklesius, as he tended the wounded and comforted the dying. I was bored with my studies, feeling restless and needed some diversion so I tagged along with Asklesius. I thought the battlefield would be thrilling, and of course, I was correct. I felt so alive there! Death all around me. Asklesius thought me quite mad. I don't know what to think of it myself." I turned the stone over in my hand and looked up at Thuclides. He was leaning against some wooden crates, his hands on his hips, his legs crossed at his ankles. Listening intently to my story. I looked back down at the sword, slightly embarrassed at how revealing of my own character I was.
"I saw him ride up on that stallion, all dressed in his black leathers, this sword in his hand. I didn't know he was the god of war, but thought he was a god regardless -- he was so desirable!" I stared off into the hearth, remembering the image he presented. "He was so... powerful. His muscles so perfectly sculpted that my artist's nature wanted to paint him naked, my silly girlish nature wanting to lick every inch of his body." I gave him a sideways-glance, my face red with shame. "he dismounted and came over to Asklesius, and they discussed the merits of attempting to save the life of one of his generals. Asklesius and I followed him to a fallen man. Asklesius checked him over, pronouncing him hopeless and I watched as Ares thrust his sword through his general's neck, killing him instantly. Ares looked at me and then mounted and rode away."
I turned the sword over and worked on the other side. "From that moment on, I could think only of this man on the black horse. ‘Who was that?' I asked Asklesius, my heart pounding in my ears. He told me it was Ares, the god of war. I painted portraits of him from memory and when I made love with Asklesius, it was Ares I saw, it was Ares' hands that touched me, his cock that penetrated me. Poor Asklesius. I was quite unfair to him -- to use his body like I was, all the while thinking of the god. I grew more and more dissatisfied with my life. Then I had a brilliant idea." I looked up at Thuclides. His blue eyes burned into mine and I wondered if my story would arouse him enough to invite me to have sex with him.
"And here I am, polishing his sword and working myself up into a frenzy when I touch it - silly fool that I am." I cover my eyes with my hand, horrified at my own honesty. Then the freshly sharpened edge of the sword slipped against my index finger and cut me quite deeply. I gasped at the pain and watched as blood welled up, dripping off onto the sword. I knew enough to quickly press the flesh together and hold my hand up above my head to reduce the blood flow. "Damn!" I hissed through gritted teeth. Thuclides rushed over and took the sword from me, then he handed me a cloth from his pocket. I wrapped it around my finger. "I'll have to close it and bandage it" I said, taking a small sharp blade from the shelf and placing it in the glowing embers of the hearth fire. "Do you know how to do that?" he asked me. "I watched Ares as he did this on my other wound and saw Asklesius tend the wounds of the soldiers" I replied. I washed the cut off in a bucket of water and saw that the blood was not flowing quite so quickly as before. It was starting to clot and close on its own, but I still had to seal it with the hot knife.
"See how silly I am, Thuclides? I get so caught up in my own story that I cut myself. Its like I am hell bent for self-destruction" I retrieved the knife from the hearth and saw that its blade was red hot. I fumbled with the cloth and knife and Thuclides took the knife away from me and placed it safely on the table, its blade pointing away. He took my hand in his. "Here," he said, "let me do this. You will not be able to hold it on for a long enough time to seal it properly." He took the cloth off the finger and looked at the cut, and then put my finger in his mouth, his blue eyes looking into mine. He sucked the blood off the wound and then quickly and deftly pressed the hot blade against the cut and held on as I cried out and tried to pull away. Then he was finished and put the knife down and turned to face me, but didn't let go of my hand. I saw there was a smear of my blood on his lips and he grabbed me and kissed me and once again I taste my blood on a man's tongue.
And then, for the slightest instant, for the briefest moment, I feel such a strong sense of familiarity in Thuclides' touch. I feel a sensation build in me that I have never felt before with any other lover and realize that it is Ares in Thuclides' body. I quickly block out the idea, and in its stead, place the idea that I am fantasizing that it is Ares, not Thuclides who is kissing me so passionately. I know it is him -- but can't let him know so this little one-act play will continue to its end. Luckily, I have studied theater as well as the visual arts and have practiced at performance. I will need every skill now as I must convince Ares that I believe he is truly Thuclides, the slave master.
"Mmmmm, Thuclides," I gasp as he kisses my neck, "i didn't know an old man could be such a good kisser. My sweet Asklesius is also a wonderful kisser, such a sweet lover. Your touch is a lot like his."
"You seem obsessed with my age, Sophia," he says, licking behind my ear, "but Ares is older than us all and it doesn't seem to bother you." And then he turns to look at me, and I see the desire plain on his face. "And I thought you liked your sex wild and rough, or it sounded like you did last night! I kiss him softly and run my hand through his salt and pepper grey hair which is cut short in the roman style. "Sometimes I like it soft and sweet. It depends on my mood and my lover. Tell me, Thuclides, which are you? A lover or a fighter?"
"What do you want me to be?"
"I want you to sit on that chair and I want to sit on your cock and fuck you till I come." I say, my tongue on his neck, beside his jugular vein. "You are a vixen!" he whispers to me, and I feel his heat coming off his skin as if he can't keep himself, his power out of this weak mortal body he is inhabiting.
"you know, Ares told me about that day on the battlefield. He noticed you even then." I let this flow off my brain and do not respond, but instead run my hand down his flank to his bulge, which is not insignificant for an old man. I wonder, for the briefest second, if somehow Thuclides' cock is now bigger than it really is. I rub myself against him, feeling his hard cock against me, revelling in it.
"He didn't notice me" I protest, "he noticed himself in the reflection of my eyes." This stops him for a moment, but he recovers and presses against me. "What, do you think he is Narcissus? In love with his own reflection?" I stroke the length of his cock through the fabric, my fingers finding the bulging head and tracing it. "how can you blame him with a face and body like that?" I reply. "But no, he is in love with the King."
"i think you overestimate his attraction to the king, Sophia. It is merely lust he feels." He replies, too quickly, I think. I slip one hand up Thuclides' tunic and stroke his chest, finding a nipple and pinching it. "No, I am certain he loves the King. I saw them together, Ares was fucking him. I wish he would fuck me that way." I kiss him and then pull back, looking in his eyes. "It broke my heart." Then I kiss him again and push him over to the chair I had spoken of earlier. It is a perfect fucking chair -- short legs, narrow seat, no arms.
Thuclides sits down under the force of my push and I am undoing his pants and hoisting up my own tunic. His eyes look at me hungrily as I position myself over his cock and force myself down on it. It is bigger than I expect and I gasp with pleasure, barely able to breathe. I kiss him deeply, and my heart is beating so rapidly I fear I will die here and now. Ares is unable to suppress himself, his power from this mortal body and his own passion arouses me to even greater heights. Still, he talks to me as this is transpiring.
"Ares told me that he remembered you and Asklesius. Two such young lovers together on the battlefield. So different from each other. Asklesius so soulful and gentle, and you so wild and passionate. He could tell you were aroused by the battlefield, by the sight of him. When you looked at Ares, you gave off this wave of lust that he felt as far away as he was from you." I kiss him, trying to appear not too interested in what he was saying, but dying to hear this tale of that first day from his lips. "My, he gave you quite an earful, didn't he?" I start to move on him, and close my eyes, it feels so wonderful to have him inside me in this position, and to be in control.
"he told me that Asklesius noticed your lust for Ares himself and it hurt Asklesius and aroused him at the same time. Ares could read Asklesius like a book."
"Damn gods!" I mutter into his neck, "able to read our minds like that!" Thuclides agrees with me, nodding his head.
"Yes, yes. He knew that Asklesius loved your passion, your lust, your desire to control him, to dominate him. Asklesius liked it when you fucked him -- just like this."
I am getting so turned on by what he is saying to me and by the feel of his cock in me, his thumb rubbing against my clit each time I move. My arms are wrapped around his neck and my cheek is pressed against his and he is speaking these words, this confession into my ear, his hot breath
arousing me even further.
"i know, I know," I moan, "he did. He loved it when I fucked him like this. Oh, Thuclides! I have to go back to him, to fuck him again before I make my decision."
Thuclides pulls away, and he is wise enough to act dumb about the decision thing. I can't imagine Ares would tell Thuclides the actual content of our discussions. "What decision?" he asks, breathless as I ride him. "i am to decide if I will stay here as his plaything, learn to ride and fight with a sword, or return to my Asklesius for good. But Ares won't let me go back, won't let me see Asklesius again, to make love with him one more time, to say good-bye." I kiss him. "Can you imagine his cruelty, Thuclides? To deny me this?" He says nothing, but watches me as I move up and down on his cock, my eyes half closed from the force of my desire. "how can I be such a fool and agree to his offer, as I know I will, no matter how cruel he is?"
"you are going to agree to his terms?" he asks. His hands on my hips assist me in my motions as I feel my leg muscles weaken from the strain.
"Of course! How could I refuse him anything?" I reply, tears forming in my eyes. "i am his slave whether he owns me or not" I add, kissing him deeply. Then I pull back, squelching the orgasm which is now so near I can barely think. "Where is he now, Thuclides? When will he return?" He looks at me, and wonders what I am about to ask.
"In Corinth. He will be there for a week."
"It figures! HE fucks me and then leaves me for a week with out even a thought!"
"And you will stay with him even when he treats you so badly?"
"Thuclides! I love him!" I cry, and kiss him again as deeply as I can. I stop my motion and he almost gasps at the loss of sensation that ensues. Then, the question. "you will let me go back to Asklesius, won't you Thuclides? Ares will be gone for a week -- he will be so busy fucking the king he won't even know I am gone."
Thuclides pulls back from me and looks at me, and I can see anger in his eyes. I have him. The tears in my eyes would warm any mortal man's heart, not to mention the fact that I have his hard cock gripped in me and have brought us both so close to mutual oblivion. Then I add the clincher. "i will do anything, Thuclides, anything you want. Please, please take pity on me, the foolish girl that I am, in love with this god who could care less about me, and let me go back to Asklesius and say goodbye."
I kiss him and look at him pleadingly. "i will be gone one day, perhaps one night only. Just enough time to make sweet love to him again."
"You don't need to be gone that long to have sex" he protests, his voice flat.
"But it won't be just sex, Thuclides" I gasp, "You are a mortal, you know what love is. I loved Asklesius once, and unless he has given up on me totally, he still loves me. I can't just go and fuck him and leave him like that! He is a healer and has a healer's soul. I have to treat him properly, to say goodbye."
I feel his erection flagging inside me. This is a hard decision for poor Thuclides to make. "i know you are worried that you will get in trouble if Ares finds out I have gone. You can always say I seduced you and offered you sexual favors to obtain your compliance. It is the truth after all. I know Ares can read minds, and we have to be so careful around him, but this is the truth."
I kiss him, trying to win back his desire, and move slowly on him. "i am sorry to ask you this, Thuclides. You have always been so good to me, so kind, and you are such a sweet lover. If only Ares hadn't denied me this chance himself, I wouldn't have to make you betray him."
There is still some blood left in him and I ride him now, faster and faster, finding strength to continue from who knows where. And he watches me bring myself to my peak, my face all flushed with desire, my mouth open, my eyes half closed and still with tears in them. And I feel his cock growing in size, filling me up, satisfying me, his power coming though it into me and my orgasm shatters me and I come with my lips on his neck, crying out loud from the pleasure. And then he comes as well and it is a bitter-sweet orgasm for him -- I can tell he has not let himself go as he usually does -- perhaps to appear more of a mortal and maintain his disguise.
I lean against him, exhausted, my breath coming out in gasps against his neck. He says nothing now, and sits stiff, rigid, in contrast to my softness. He lifts me up and off him, and I stand up and feel his seed slide down my leg. He does up his trousers and looks at me once, and I see a mixture of anger and hurt on his face -- it looks almost like defeat.
"I'll let you know my decision tomorrow" he says, straightening his tunic. "In the meantime, don't say anything about this to anyone, and don't say a word to me or you certainly won't be enjoying your stay here anymore."
He stomps out of the room, leaving me alone with that huge sword. I know what his answer will be. He can't say no -- I have not left him any opening. He hates the idea that I will be going back to Asklesius -- he is such a bastard. He is angry and I am glad he will be gone for a week.
He'll get over it.
Slave Chronicles: Part 8
I should have expected that he would find yet another way to try to humiliate me. He avoided me all the next day and then finally came to me in his slave-master guise and agreed to my request. He agreed to let me go to Asklesius as I knew he would, but there was a price. Bastard that he is, he couldn't face the idea that I would return to my sweet ponytail and might enjoy myself.
I was alone in the kitchen, cleaning some stray pots from the evening meal and watched as the last rays of sunlight faded, leaving the room lit only by the oil lamps. I was drying my hand off with my apron when he came in and stood off to the side of the room in the shadows, unwilling to show himself fully to me. Perhaps to hide the smirk on his face that even he could not mask in poor Thuclides' facade.
"Sophia, I have considered your request, and agree that you may go and say good- bye to your lover." I was as shocked and thankful as I could possible muster, almost willing to fall to my knees and kiss his feet, but felt that would be going a bit too far. I went to his side and clasped his hand in mine instead. "Anything you ask, Thuclides," I whispered to him, "anything."
"Do you mean that?" he asked, and I should have known then that he would blind- side me. "Of course, anything." I could almost feel his smile although his face was in darkness.
"Bring him back here. Fuck him in the god's bed and let me watch." I gasped out loud and could not speak for a few moments. "Thuclides...I..." I tried to protest, "I don't think that I ..."
"I thought you said ‘anything'" he interjected, his voice insistent, "this happens to be a preferred sexual experience of mine - watching others fuck. As the god's slave master, I get to do it quite a lot. I have come to ... enjoy its pleasures."
"You mean, you'd rather watch me make love with Asklesius than fuck me?"
"I intend to do both. You will fuck me before you go to your lover then you will fuck him for me and then, when he is asleep, you will fuck me again, in the same room, on the floor."
Bastard. Bastard. I hate him. He is such a bastard. What can I say? I want to see Asklesius again - he must be frantic to know what is happening with me - why I haven't come back to him when I said I would - at the end of one month.
"Thuclides! I can't ask him to let you watch us! He was good enough to let me come here and promised to take me back when my month was up! It was a crazy mad lust-filled act and he loved me enough to let me do it. Now, when I tell him I won't come back to him, I can't demean his faith like that!"
He was unmoved by my argument. "You said anything. This is my price, Sophia. Tell him that I am an old pervert and that you had to bargain with me to let you even see him again. At least that is the truth. You will soon forget I am in the room, when you both get caught up in the act."
I cover my eyes, horrified at the thought of it, knowing that Ares is doing this to punish me because he can't think of, what? A normal sexual experience? Love between two people? Or, more likely, just for the sheer perversity of it - because he can do it. Then he turns to leave. "Come to the god's bedchamber tomorrow evening, early, just before sunset. You can take a horse and go to your lover then. But you must bring him right back, and then I want to watch you fuck on that bed. And then, when he is asleep I will come to you in the night, and fuck you on the floor. And Sophia. You will have to keep your screams to a minimum unless you want your sweet Asklesius to wake and find you fucking an old man."
He is such a sadist. He may not hit me, but he hurts me nonetheless. Why do I take it?
There is nothing much to do the next day, so I sit and fret about this night and how Asklesius will respond to this request by Thuclides to watch our lovemaking. I can't imagine it will be viewed as a source of pleasure to him - he is so shy and only in the heat of passion can he even call my body parts by their slang names. I suppose that is what attracts him to me, for I have always reveled in the body - in his body especially which, in its virginal state when we met, was so utterly responsive to me. He always made me feel so decadent - a feeling I enjoyed. A healer, he seemed to have a sense of what my body needed, perhaps what my soul needed, and was always a gentle and considerate lover, thinking of my pleasure as much as his own.
Oh, gods! I feel my heart being pulled back to him as I sit thinking of this night and my betrayal of him for this beast of a god. Asklesius does not deserve this from me, and I feel almost prepared to merely send him a letter telling him that I have decided to stay for a month longer. Or, to return to him, swallowing the pain and loss - of what, I can't fathom - knowing that I can never find peace here with Ares, only lust and perhaps anger and violence. Why do I feel at this moment in my life that these three things, lust, anger and violence are so necessary to my happiness? Why I need to be here with Ares no matter what?
Why must Ares do this to me? What black smirch is on his soul that he feeds on other's pain as he does mine? Hera is his mother and that explains a lot. But he is a god, and could have a dozen, a hundred willing sexual partners a day if he wanted them. I know that he does not like his partners too willing - not unless the willingness comes from some similar place of perversion. Everything must be a battle to him. He is the god of war after all.
So what is it he sees in me, that attracts his attention long enough for him to make the effort to hurt me? Perhaps the idea that I had actually ruined my good, promising life to pursue some sexual fantasy - that may be why he denied me for so long - to make me suffer. Now he wants to enjoy me hurting my lover - breaking his heart as he learns I will leave him for a god who does not love me any more than a predator loves its prey. And humiliate us both by watching us make love one last time. It is always pain and power for Ares.
It is time to go to Ares/Thuclides and I walk with heavy feet. I should be pleased to be fucking him - it is the god after all within that old body. I know that his essence will not be restrained in the heat of the moment and will infuse me with that power. And it should give me pleasure just to know that this is important enough to him to make the effort to disguise himself. But I feel only sadness. Why can't he just fuck me as he is - just pure pleasure? Why all these games? Is existence so hollow for him, has he been in existence for so long that normal pleasures are not enough to satisfy him? This must be it, I conclude. He is a god. I pity him.
I enter the god's bedchamber and see Thuclides/Ares seated on the edge of the bed. He looks at me, his face expressionless. He does not seem to be getting any pleasure out of this. "Sophia." He says and motions for me to come before him. "Ready to fuck an old man again?" He touches my cheek almost tenderly. Ares! He is such a contradiction! "I made a promise. I will keep mine if you will keep yours." I stand in front of him and wait. He says nothing. "What do you want me to do?"
"How would you make love to your ponytail? To Asklesius?" I close my eyes. "You are going to find out, aren't you?"
"I want to know now. Do it to me first."
"Thuclides! It takes two to make love! He plays a part as well in how things go between us."
He shakes his head. "Assume that you are extremely aroused and he lets you lead him. What would you do? What would you want to do to him, him to you?" I close my eyes and have no trouble imagining something that happens all the time. I know exactly how it would go.
"Stand up." I say and he does. I take him and turn him away from me, and turn down the lamp even further so I can imagine it is Asklesius I am doing this to, not Thuclides or Ares. I come up behind him and put my arms around him, and nuzzle his neck, licking it as I do my Asklesius. I remove his tunic, pulling it over his head and dropping it on the floor. My hands move up to his pectoral muscles and shoulders, to his biceps and down his arm to his wrists and hands and fingers, which I entwine in my own. I have spent so many hours drawing those expressive healer hands. His body has been my study for this year we have been together, and I know each part as intimately as if it was my own.
Then I remove my own tunic and rub my breasts against his back and press my pubic area against his buttocks, rubbing myself back and forth. Then my tongue and mouth explore his back, his spine, and I remove his trousers and my tongue moves down the crack of his ass which always raises goose bumps on Asklesius - he considers this quite bold and carnal of me - to touch his anus, to lick him, yet I know it arouses him as well. I imagine him with Ares, Ares fucking him and wonder how Asklesius, my sweet boy, would respond to this god's attentions. Two such different beings - how would it feel to watch them, locked in a lover's embrace as I had seen Ares and the King on the battlefield?
Thuclides/Ares' breath is coming more rapidly now - he is clearly liking my attentions. In my mind, my hands go around Asklesius' waist to his groin and I stroke his lean flank, feeling the curve and angles of his pelvis, the rise of his thighs and the swell of his pubic bone. My fingers tease their way through his pubic hair and move down to cup his testicles and scrotum, touching them lightly but firmly as Asklesius has taught me to do, as if to guard their precious cargo. Finally, my hand finds his cock and it is hard and I feel his semen leaking out and take some on my finger and lick it off - its taste arouses me. My desire for his taste arouses Asklesius so much - he can barely believe I want it, that I actually desire it. Despite his healer training, he has been raised in a family that despised the body and this translates into his own feelings that his body and its essences are somehow tainted, but I know differently. I know that his body is a temple, his male fluid is like manna to me, and I worship his maleness, his musk, his taste, his responses - they all thrill me.
I turn him around now and my hands cup his face as I kiss him and I imagine my fingers running through his long hair which I always remove from its binding when we make love. I like to feel it on my face and on my body as he explores me with his mouth. I am so aroused now thinking of my Asklesius and our lovemaking, that I quite forget it is Thuclides/Ares who I am really touching. I know now that this was pleasing Ares so much - that I was lost in my memories of Asklesius and was imagining it was Asklesius' body. He seemed to want to know how I felt when I was with my lover. Why? Why? I can't fathom why he wanted this experience.
Usually Asklesius starts to explore me with his own mouth at this point, my breasts, my cunt. But sometimes I don't even feel the need for this from him - sometimes I just want to fuck him. It is this way tonight - I feel such a need to fuck my Asklesius that I don't need his own foreplay. I kneel down before him and take him in my mouth all at once - this always shocks Asklesius - this abrupt move on my part and as much as he knows it is coming, he can not suppress a gasp when I do it and I love that gasp - it makes me feel so powerful. To inflict this pleasure on him. I hear Thuclides/Ares' own gasp of pleasure and it is reward enough for me and I suck at him/them and rub my tongue all over the head as my mouth closes around it and moves on it.
So I am sucking away at Thuclides/Ares/Asklesius - the three are so confused in my mind I don't know who it is, when I just can't go on any longer with the charade. I pull away and hear their gasp at the loss of contact. I bend down on my hands and knees and weep, horrified at what I am doing to Thuclides' body, at what I will do to Asklesius, at what I am willing to do for Ares. Is there nothing I wouldn't do for this god?
He leans down to me and takes my hands in his. "What is it, Sophia?" Thuclides voice sounds tender enough - there is no anger there, but there is anger and revulsion in me and I hit his hands away . "Leave me alone!" I shout at him, and stand up, looking for something to cover my nakedness. "I can't do this any longer" I say to him when I find my tunic. I don't look at him. "I'm leaving." I rush out of Ares' bedroom and to my own little room at the back of the temple and Thuclides/Ares follows me, taking hold of my arm to stop me. "What do you mean, you are leaving. We had a bargain. You can't go to him unless you fuck me first."
"No, Thuclides! That was only if I was going to return."
He stands speechless and watches me pack my small bag. Seeing that I am serious, Thuclides/Ares becomes concerned, and this is the very first admission on his part that I matter, that my presence has any consequence for him - something he has tried so hard to deny.
"So," he begins, his voice low and angry, "you've decided you love your little Asklesius too much to stay with Ares.
"No," I reply, looking at him with tears in my eyes, "I hate what I have become too much to stay with Ares."
"You don't love Asklesius?"
"Not anymore, no." I admit. "I am fond of him, yes. He is sweet, undeniably. But I don't love him anymore. How can I after Ares?"
"Then why go to him?"
"I am not ‘going' to him. Oh, I'll stay with him a while. We'll fuck our brains out and spend most of the days in bed in each others arms, the way lovers should be. But then I'll leave him and live by myself for a while. Clear my mind of all this clutter." I stop and looked at him for a moment. "No, I am not ‘going' to him. I am going away from this place."
"From Ares." He adds, but I shake my head. "No, from myself."
I shove my few possessions into this small bag. There is little I have to remind me of this place. I do pick up the sword and its scabbard and hold it lovingly. I take the sword out once more and feel it in my hand.
"You love that sword, don't you? You loved the feel of it in your hand on the battlefield. You loved it when you fought with it and when you beheaded that soldier. The power it gave you. The way it made your blood hot and filled you with desire." I nodded, looking at the blade, moving it from hand to hand, sweeping it from side to side. Just holding it now had this precise effect - making my blood hot and filling me with desire. Of course, Ares had just given himself away, but I pretended not to notice, focusing instead on my sword and its feel in my hand.
"It was the second most marvelous feeling in the world to me." I admitted. He watched me as I moved the sword in large smooth arcs.
"And the first?" He didn't even have to ask. "Fucking Ares yesterday." At that, I lunged at him with my sword and thrust the tip of it through Thuclides/Ares' heart. "I hate your fucking guts." I hissed at him, my face an inch away from his.
I had him pinned against the wall, the tip of the blade having gone clear through his chest and into a timber. I watched as blood welled out of the flesh around the sword and for a second, was in fear that I had actually killed Thuclides instead of pissing off a god.
And then he transformed in front of my eyes back into Ares, god of war, and he pulled the sword out of himself and the wound healed up in a second. "I deserved that!" he laughed, but it was a hollow laugh and his eyes were filled with fury at me.
I grabbed my bag and left the room as quickly as I could, wondering what he would do. I passed Thuclides in the hall. "Sophia," he began as I ran by, "I was just coming to find you." I turned and walked backwards. "I'm in a hurry, Thuclides. What is it?"
"I was just going to say..." he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence as Ares came striding down the hall. He grabbed me by the arm and nearly dragged my into his rooms. "...that Ares was here and looking for you, but I see he has found you." He slunk off, knowing his employer well enough to know that he was in a rage.
Ares throws me into the room and closes the door. I stumble in and stagger, reaching out to the floor with a hand to stop my fall. I sit on the floor and face him. He is standing at the door, leaning on it, his arms crossed, and his foot tapping angrily. His face is flushed and his nostrils flared. He looks so desirable to me, I could fuck him right here and right now. He knows it.
"You are amazing. Aren't you even slightly afraid of me?"
"Terrified" I answer, but he knows it is a lie. I am no longer terrified - I lost that on the battlefield. I feel safe with him.
"I could kill you in an instant."
"I know. You will if it is your wish." He smiles and shakes his head.
"I knew when I saw you on the battlefield that day that you had a warrior's heart, Sophia. That is why I brought you to the my temple when you requested a position. Silly girl - wanting to come and be a slave to me. If you had come to me asking me to teach you to fight, I would have taken you in a moment. But you thought that you were in love with me. I had to try to disabuse you of that perception." He came over to me and picked me up.
"You are in love with war, with the battle, and see me as the symbol of that place you desire, that feeling you crave. You should have been born a man, Sophia. How your soul ever got in that beautiful female body I'll never know."
"I am in love with you" I protested. "And how could I come to you and ask you to teach me to fight when I didn't even know that is what I wanted? I saw you and wanted you. That is all I know."
"You knew that day we fought together. You loved it." I still refused to accept what he was saying.
"I only survived because you gave me power" I replied. "I know I am too small and too weak to ever be a warrior."
He smiled at me. "That is your great misfortune. You are too small to have such a big heart in you."
"What happens now?" I ask him. He stood looking at me. "What do you want to happen now?" he asks. I shake my head, not really knowing what I want. "What do you want from me, Sophia?"
‘I want you to love me' I think to myself. It is the truth and as I think it I know it's impossible. Ares almost laughs at me, knowing my silly girl thoughts but I feel him restrain himself. ""You want love? Wrong god. That's Cupid you're after. Me? I'm the God of War. But I'll give you a good fight." He shakes his head as he sees the pain on my face.
"My offer still stands. But just now, I'm going to fuck you until you scream for me to stop." He came over to me, but I still insisted he answer my question. "Wait! What happens to Asklesius? I still have to go to him and tell him about my decision."
"Fuck Asklesius!" he says, taking me in his arms and kissing me. I struggled out of his grasp. "Is that permission?"
And then, I swear he almost roared in anger at me - I had gone just one step too far. He grabbed me and was going to throw me down again, forcing me into that same old position that I wanted to be in and had become so familiar, but he knew this is precisely what I wanted. And Ares could never give me exactly what I want.
So he threw me down on my back this time - a very unfamiliar position for me with him - and pinned my hands up above my head with one of his own strong hands. He decided to play the god with me and our clothes disappeared - he wouldn't even rip my tunic off and give me that much satisfaction. I tried to knee him in the groin - not because I thought it would hurt him - I knew I couldn't. I just had to put up a fight - I didn't want to disappoint him.
"Sophia!" he said, his voice thick, "I don't want you to fight me." I didn't believe him and tried to kick his shin. "Sophia!" he said again, kissing me to stop me, "Do I have to tie you down?" Then he saw my eyes widen at the thought of him restraining me, probably also felt the thrill of fear that ran down my spine to my cunt. Oh, gods. I thought to myself. I don't think I can stand this. Ares fucking me while I am tied up? To what depths of perversity will I sink, will he drag me, willing accomplice that I am? He seemed to like my emotional confusion -it left me not knowing how to respond.
And then I find myself on the stone table in Ares' reception room in front of his throne. On my stomach, my legs and arms spread wide and tied with rough rope to the table legs. The stone table top is cold and hard beneath me, and my hip bones press into it, hurting me already. A feeling of dread goes through me - I have not felt it since that day on the battlefield. I turn my head and look at him sitting on that throne, lounging on it, beautiful in his nakedness. He rests his chin on a fist and looks at me. I see his erection leaning against his raised thigh and all I can think is that I want to suck it - I have been denied this pleasure, I have not even touched it. How cruel he has been.
"You can't decide what you want - how you want me." I turn my face away from him. He is right, I can't. Only that I want him. I thought I wanted him to make love to me - real love, tender and passionate. But that would be too much like sex with Asklesius. I want to keep that for my memories of him. Ares making love to me would be too much - he would blot out my memories of Asklesius, and I don't want that to happen.
Ares fucking me fast and furious - that is the god of war to me, taking what he wants and bringing me along in the bargain. Me fucking him - really fucking him, not Thuclides, that is what I want the most. Sitting on him, that massive cock in me, my arms on his shoulders for support, his breath on my neck, breasts rubbing against his chest hair. This? Being restrained does not give me the pleasure I thought it would.
He laughs at my thoughts. "You always have to be on top, Sophia. You always want to be in control, be dominant. You forget I'm the god." Oh, just go ahead and fuck me then, I think. Get it over with. This table is hurting me. I feel sick lying here.
Then I feel his weight against me, his body on top of me as I lie on the hard table. His weight presses me against it and my hip bones cry out from the pain. He puts one arm under me, around my waist and his hand moves down to my vulva, finding my clit and stroking it. He just lies there, on top of me like this, his body pressed against me, his weight almost smothering me, his fingers stroking me. His mouth is on my neck, then he is licking the wound he inflicted on my shoulder. These sensations merge in me and, slowly, I feel warmth growing in my cunt, and I feel that I would like his tongue there, licking me instead of his fingers touching me.
"Have you calmed down now, Sophia?" he murmurs against my spine. Then his hand is pulled away and I feel his tongue moving down my back to my buttocks. One hand goes under my hips and he lifts me up, and his tongue slips between my cheeks and slides down to my perineum and finds my vagina, thrusting inside. "Shall I untie you or do you require further restraint?" he asks rhetorically. I am then on my back, still tied to the table and he is straddling my hips, his great thighs on either side of me. He strokes his own cock and looks at me, knowing that I want it in my mouth, but he will deny me this as well.
His mouth moves to the scar on my side, just next to my breast and he licks it then he moves to the other scar on my thigh and licks that as well, his mouth lingering over it. " I thought you said you could protect me when I was on the battlefield, Ares." I manage to gasp out as I feel his tongue moving over to my cunt, and down to my vulva, his fingers spreading my labia and his tongue finding my hard clit. "I did," he says, and continues, his tongue licking the length of me from my anus to my pubic arch. He then burrows in and finds my clit with his mouth, sucking it, then letting his tongue move in circles on it until I moan out loud.
His mouth moves to my scar and licks it again. "Then why were the soldiers able to harm me?" I manage to ask in spite of my state of near-delirium. He moves back to the scar on my ribs, and licks it again. "I let them" he says and his mouth moves over to my nipple, and he sucks me for a moment while I take his comment in and process its meaning. "You mean you let me get hurt?"
"mmmhmmm," he replies, half my breast in his mouth. He pulls off me, his teeth closing around my nipple, biting down just hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to break the skin, and I cry out in pain. His tongue and lips soothe the hurt as his mouth leaves the nipple. "I didn't want you to think that the battle was all fun - that there was no pain involved. What kind of teacher would I be?"
The he lies on top of me and kisses me, his tongue forcing my mouth open and exploring me hungrily. I pull away, angered at him for letting me get hurt. "But you are a god. Why didn't you heal me? Once I felt the pain, you could have healed me and left me without scars."
He smiles at me and kisses me. "Every warrior worth his salt has many battle scars to remind him of his courage. Besides, these scars give me pleasure." He kisses me behind my ear and then looks at me again. "Consider them my brand - my mark of possession. That should please your silly girl's heart."
I feel so aroused at that remark that I want to come, right now, with him fucking me hard and fast. But he continues to kiss me, and rubs his cock against my vulva, teasing me with its proximity to my cunt. "You still lack patience, Sophia" he says, and lets the head of his cock brush the opening to my vagina. I moan and try to press myself against him, but he keeps his cock just far enough away so there is pressure but no penetration. "You want everything right now, this minute. I'm the one who sets the pace in this relationship."
"Why do I have to have patience when it comes to sex?" I ask breathlessly, struggling against him, trying to push myself on him. "Why can't you just fuck me now?!" I cry out, feeling the head of his cock moving just inside me and stopping. I clench my muscles, hoping it will somehow pull him inside of me, but he merely laughs at this. He is smiling over me, delighting in my torment. His eyes have a spark in them, a devilish look that arouses me even more, if that is possible. Then he pushes all the way in me in one smooth move that makes my back arch in pleasure and I feel as if all the air in my lungs is gone. I almost come with that one thrust I am so aroused and would have if he made even one move, but he doesn't move - knowing how close I am. I try to move myself - to make my orgasm start, but he stops me, letting all his weight fall on me to pin me motionless underneath him. "Lie still, Sophia. Let the feeling pass." I can hardly breathe to speak.
"I don't want it to pass - I want to come, now!" I cry, feeling like I will pass out if I don't, the itch inside, the swelling of my clit is so great.
"You are so young!" he laughs. "You have never denied yourself your orgasm, always taking it so quickly as if you're afraid you'll lose it if you stop. I promise you - you won't lose the feeling. Just lie still. Let me lead," he smiles, knowing I don't have much choice in the matter. "You thought Thuclides was old and had some sexual experience he might teach you. Well, I have a bit more than even that old man."
Then I am on his great bed, but still restrained, my hands now tied to the bedposts. The bed feels soft beneath me - a welcome sensation. I raise my head to find Ares and he is standing with a cruet of some oil in his hand. He drizzles it over my body and then straddles me, and starts to spread the oil over my torso, massaging the muscles in my shoulders and arms, naming them all for me as I did for Asklesius. "How do you know all their names?" I ask, enjoying the strength of his hands, and surprised that my desire is now in the background, but still there regardless.
"Healers and artists aren't the only ones to know the muscles of the body," he replies, "I have trained countless warriors to fight. They must know the names of the muscles they are building." He works on my arms right up to the wrists and then strokes the length of them back to my shoulders and then to my breasts. He massages them as well and circles my nipples with his thumbs, bringing them to points, and then pulls on them, stretching them longer. He watches my face for my response and smiles when he sees it. I am surprised at how quickly my desire returns, back again in full force by his touch. He leans down and sucks each nipple and I wait for him to bite me, but he doesn't, just lets his teeth scrape them as he pulls away.
And thus it goes, this massage, with him bringing me to the point of orgasmic release and then allowing the feelings to fade by focusing on the muscles. My desire declines into a warmth rather than a fire, but then is quickly reignited with the well- placed and timed touch of his fingers or his tongue. I have never had this experience before - he knows me so well. I always am in such a rush, as if in fear that if I don't grab my pleasure quickly I will have none.
I am lying there on his bed, my skin completely oiled and on fire from his touch. I can barely open my eyes I am so filled with lust, and I am sick with this feeling of total passivity, his control over my body and its responses so complete. But I see him sitting on his haunches between my legs and he seems indecisive. He is stroking his great cock in a contemplative rather than a needy manner as if considering what new torture to which he might submit me. I get a fleeting sense that simply fucking me now would not be enough for him. His own orgasm gained in this fashion not satisfying for him.
For a moment, I am afraid - afraid that he will hurt me instead. That in Ares, pain and pleasure have become so entwined that one alone is not good enough. He must have them both. And then he finds it - the one act that will provide him some measure of pleasure. I am back on my stomach, my hands still restrained but my legs free and now they are straddled on each side of his thighs and he is rubbing oil on my buttocks and anus. I gasp - this is what I fear the most, this kind of sex. I do not want it. He knows this and it is this that sends his desire soaring.
"No!" I cry, my voice breaking, "Ares! Please, not this!"
"Quiet" he commands me, slipping a finger inside me. I gasp in shock. "You'll love it, believe me."
He slips another oiled finger inside me and I start twisting in fear. He leans over me and holds me still.
"Relax, Sophia. I know what I'm doing." But I don't relax and won't.
This is it - this is what he wants from me - my fear. He relishes it and this is what makes him so damn mad at me - I don't fear him, I haven't feared him since that first day he took me when I yelled at him. That instead of fear, I fell safe with him. Safe on the battlefield, as if he can protect me from some kind of unknown danger. Without my fear, he doesn't feel as powerful. I fear him now and I don't know why - why this act abhors me so much, only that I feel this great blackness inside me at the thought of this. When I saw him with Flavius, with the king, I had such desire to see them, these men, in this act. But when I think of Ares penetrating me this way, I feel no desire, only nothingness.
He proceeds despite my protests, despite my struggles, finding them part of that which makes this event so desirable to him. He is aroused at my resistance and, yet, when I don't comply at the precise instant he wants me to, angered as well. I am not playing this game properly - I am to fight, then under his skillful ministrations, willingly submit.
But I don't comply, only fight him all the more vigorously, screaming in fear, the rope's roughness tearing at the soft flesh of my wrists. Then, when he penetrates me, my mind goes blank, total blackness engulfs me and I lie stiff and unyielding. He reaches under me and strokes my clitoris, but I feel no pleasure. He kisses my back and nuzzles my shoulder, but nothing. He is thrusting slowly, he is trying to reignite my desire, but to no avail.
Then the memory starts to resurface in me - a memory from the past, just before I go through puberty. Of men in soldier's uniforms, of shouts and fighting, of my own struggles, kicking and screaming as I am dragged away into the forest, my grandmother unable to protect me, my small sisters cry out. And my grandmother's voice, pleading for them to leave me a virgin, to protect the family honor. And then blackness. And I am crying now, weeping, not knowing what had happened to me, but knowing it somehow, and fighting its reemergence with all my might to protect myself.
Then he, too, knows why I am fighting, why he can't get the response he desires. And it stops him dead.
He withdraws. He leans down over my back, his hands find mine, which are ripping at sheets, wrists oozing blood from the rough rope, tied to the bedposts. The god of war dealing perhaps for the first time with a real spoil of war.
Now, I sit alone in my small room at the back of the Halls of War in the darkness. I rub my wrists where only short hours ago the skin was shredded and bleeding. They are healed now completely, and the pain is only one more memory that I am now free to consider and let flow off my brain like water over a dam. It all makes perfect sense to me now - my deep-seated dissatisfaction with the staid life I had been leading with Asklesius, my troubled youth, my need for control.
That one day, bored with my assignment to draw some collection of mute objects for my art teacher, I went with my healer lover to the witness the aftermath of war. In witness to its horrors, I was witness to my own self. Ares saw in me that day such a powerful desire to have this power, to be able to wreak this kind of havoc on my memories so I would no longer be their slave. My fascination with the battlefield, Ares' sword, the feeling of my own in my hands, the sounds of the fray, watching the god killing the enemy with such ease and with absolute confidence all made sense. On the battlefield, with that sword in my hand, I finally felt in control over the fears, the dread, the unknown horror that lay in wait inside of me. Ares was strength to me, power and control - when I was with him, it was as if my fears were mastered. I felt so safe with him! And the humiliation, the pain he caused me - they were not enough to send me away. I did not really love him - how can one love a god when they have such little to give in return? I love him as a child loves an all- powerful parent, hating their power yet feeling safe only within its realm.
Now I collect up my bag and fill it with what few possessions I have. I am returning to Asklesius, to make love with him once more and say good-bye. There is no opposition to my return to him anymore. Then I will travel, I think, for a while, and go to Rome where I know there is art to soothe the need for beauty I feel so deeply now. But I will return here, to the Halls of War. Ares says his offer still stands. I am small but Ares says my heart is that of a lioness and I can be trained to fight and ride. Size is not the only attribute of value in a warrior, especially a horseman.
I leave my small dark room and stop into the annex where Thuclides is searching for something he needs for a banquet for Ares' favored generals. He smiles at me sadly - Ares has no doubt told him something of my history and my plans.
"So we won't be seeing you for some while, I hear from the god." I put my bag down and sit on the fucking chair where he and I had such wonderfully fulfilling sex only short days ago. He doesn't know of our shared bliss of course, though from now on, I will never be able to look at him without that memory flooding back. Even now I feel aroused as I watch him bent over, his back to me as he rifles through the linens in the chest he has open. I smile at myself inwardly. Sophia! What a lusty girl you are!
"No, I'm returning home for a while, and then will go traveling before I come back to start training. I need some time away to think about things."
"But you will be returning?" he asks, and stops, waiting for my response. I sigh. I can't say yes for certain, but I only know that I long to return with Ares to the battlefield and kill some more enemies, whoever they are. Their fight with us matters not to me. "I think so. Ares says he will train me to fight and will help me build strength so I can hold a larger sword and control a horse. But he will give me some measure of protection as well, so I won't be so easily struck down."
"That's awfully generous of him - not what I would expect from the god" he mutters, shaking his head at a cloth that has been destroyed by age and the effects of vermin. He deposits it in a waste bin and turns to me. I go to him and put my hand on his shoulder affectionately. "Oh, he's not as bad as he wants us all to think, Thuclides. He's worse." We both laugh at this. "Where is the bastard, anyway? I have to go and wanted to see him before I do."
"He's gone off to Corinth, I believe. To see the king, to talk strategy, or something."
I laugh out loud, but inside there is a sharp stab of pain. "It figures!" I manage to say, my voice breaking only slightly. "Let his poor silly little slave girl leave without saying good-bye. What else could I expect - especially since it was the king who required him."
"He told me to tell you he was sorry, but there is an important battle coming up and he needs to prepare the king and his generals for it." Ha! I think to myself, I know what he'll be preparing - himself to savor the king's perfect male body. How can I compete?
"He also asked me to show you this," he says, going to a large chest and opening it. He pulls out a sword - a beautiful sword, larger than my own, but smaller than Ares. He passes it to me, scabbard and all, and I take it an feel its weight in my hands. I draw it out and hold it, passing it from hand to hand, examining the blade which is well polished and glints in the lamp light. "It is beautiful!" I whisper, entranced by the intricate carving on the handle and the hilt. "Real gold on that hilt, in those figures." He adds. I look closely. There are small figurines in relief on the hilt - women with spears and armor. "Who are they?" I ask. Thuclides comes over and peers at them.
"Amazons, I think. Brave women who cut off their breasts and fought as well as any men."
"Oohhh," I grimace, "I don't think I want to be a warrior that much!" He laughs, and looks at me. "No, I don't think I would want to see them cut off you since they are one of your more ... endearing features!"
"Thuclides! You old goat!" He smiles but looks hurt as I say it and I regret my words immediately.
I look back at the sword. It is so beautiful and so perfect. I will have to work hard to be strong enough to hoist it up in the air when I am fighting. It feels somewhat unwieldy now as I sweep it back and forth, and I require both hands to do so.
Thuclides steps back and holds a hand up. "The god told me to stay out of your way when you got it in your hands - that you might hurt me with it quite by accident. I see why!"
"Oh, Thuclides! This sword is so perfect! It is as if it has been made for me. I can't wait to come back and train with it. Am I not a silly girl?" I look at him and see he is smiling at me. I hold the blade up in front of my face and kiss the hilt, then sheath it and return it to Thuclides. "Keep it safe for me, will you? Don't let him give it to any one else in some fit of lusty generosity!"
"I won't. I'll hide it here in this chest. But remember, Sophia, he is the god!"
"How could I ever forget!"
I pick up my bag and go to him. He is leaning against those crates and there is a glint in his eye as I near him. "Good-bye, Thuclides" I begin, "I don't know how long I will be gone. And I suppose, if I will even come back. Who can say what the Fates will bring any of us? But I plan on returning - that sword is temptation enough to make me come back!" He smiles at me and nods. "Come back, Sophia. I, at least, will miss you, even if the god does not."
I lean over to him and kiss him, letting my lips linger a few seconds longer than custom would dictate and feel that familiar heat from him that, try as he might, he is unable to suppress.
Then I turn and leave.