Goddess' Revenge

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge Isabelle Spurrier All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2006 Isabelle Spurrier

No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical

means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior

written permission from Changeling Press LLC.

ISBN (10) 1-59596-499-1

ISBN (13) 978-1-59596-499-1

Formats Available:

HTML, Adobe PDF,

MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader

Publisher:

Changeling Press LLC

PO Box 1046

Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046

www.ChangelingPress.com

Editor: Vikky Bertling

Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Chapter One Aphrodite, goddess of beauty, immortal instigator of love, incarnation of passion, was peeved. It actually went a bit beyond being peeved. She was angry. For years, the mortals who lived upon the plains below Olympus had revered her as the pinnacle of all that man desired. After all, she was the epitome of loveliness, wasn’t she? Her honey-blonde hair and bright blue eyes enchanted her victims almost as much as her pearly skin and luscious body. She was a vessel, designed to entice and inflame all that beheld her, but now the unthinkable had happened. Men ignored her. Her temples were deserted, her altars were dusty, even the men -- who’d always been most devoted to her worship -- now set their sights upon another star. Psyche. That dratted mortal girl with her radiant beauty and virginal airs had usurped the throne of the Queen of Love. As she walked from her royal father’s house, the people cheered her perfect face. If she went into the town, strangers threw flowers in her path. If -- Zeus forbid! -- the girl bathed in the sea, men from miles around ringed the high cliffs hoping for a glimpse of her unparalleled beauty. Aphrodite bit her perfect lip, then immediately stopped. After all, why give the girl more weapons? The goddess was certain that Psyche would absolutely love it if her rival, the exalted immortal Aphrodite, marred her charms with an unsightly roughness on her luscious mouth! She smoothed her face into tranquil lines and lifted a bronze mirror to gaze at her reflection.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

-4-

“It is not fitting that I should be eclipsed by this mortal girl,” she murmured petulantly. “Why should my worship suffer as a result of this momentary being, this wicked, grasping woman? It should not!” Thus decided, Aphrodite laid her bronze mirror aside. She lifted a languid hand and a nymph approached her divan. Was it her imagination or did she see a smirk lurking about the corners of the nymph’s mouth? For a moment, she considered striking the nymph with a Gorgon’s curse, but then she relented. “Send my son to me,” Aphrodite said coolly. Her eyes moved away from the nymph who left to obey her mistress’ words. Instead, she let her gaze turn upon the lovely plains and hills of Olympus, the celestial parody of the mortal realm below, and a smile curved her lips. Lovely, yes, but deadly.

*** Eros sighed. When his mother was upset, she was a dreadful shrew. For hours now, it seemed that her voice grew shriller and shriller as she harangued the young god of love about this mortal girl who usurped her rightful honors. He leaned upon his long bow, his face arranged in a mask of polite interest as he gazed out on the same panorama that had intrigued Aphrodite a short time before. Olympus was beautiful, as the dwelling-place of the gods should be. It was Eros’ face, however, that truly drew the eye. He was tall and slender, muscled solidly, his skin golden with the kiss of Apollo’s chariot, and from his broad shoulders a pair of glorious white wings folded sensuously against his back. His face was a stronger, masculine version of his mother’s, with long, fair hair bound carelessly and sapphire eyes that pierced into the very hearts of his victims. His lips, a perfect carmine copy of the ranting goddess’, were pursed in an expression that could only be termed mischievous. He was gilded and glowing, perfect and puckish, every maiden’s dream and at this particular moment --- bored.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

-5-

“Eros, my darling! I need your help!” Aphrodite’s huge eyes were brimming with tears; tears that he knew would never fall upon those unblemished cheeks. Eros sighed and turned his gaze back to her. “What can I do, Mother?” he asked evenly. “Punish that girl!” Aphrodite snarled and all of her beauty evaporated in the face of her rage. “I require revenge on that pushy creature, revenge for all of the wrongs done me!” “I cannot see that she has purposely done anything against you, Mother,” Eros pointed out, keeping his voice disinterested because he knew how it would annoy her. Her lips thinned almost to invisibility. “She cannot be as she is without doing it on purpose! I, Aphrodite, the foam-born goddess who triumphed over Hera and Athena in the contest judged by the Trojan Prince, cannot be set aside for a mortal!” “She is mortal.” The god shrugged. “In little more than a blink of your eye she will be dead, Mother. Why concern yourself over it?” “Because every sacrifice gone from my altars, every reverence missing in my temples, is an affront to my divinity!” she shrieked. Recollecting herself, she calmed and added shrewdly, “As it is to yours, my son.” This shaft hit home. Eros was slighted by the other gods, shunned for the numerous tricks he’d played upon them in the past. Although causing Zeus to fall in love with a cow was amusing at the time, the repercussions prevented Eros from flying through thunderstorms for a long time. He frowned and regarded her with a little more interest. “What would you have me do?” “I want you to make her fall in love with something really horrible. A bull, a rock, a common leper -- anything! Let her wallow in the shame of wasting her youth and beauty upon the most unworthy of recipients! Only when she has suffered as much as I will she understand the consequences of vying with an immortal!” Eros’ eyebrow rose slightly. “A rock?” “It was just a figure of speech.”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

-6-

“I see.” His lips twitched but he didn’t say any more. “Won’t you do this, my son? For me?” Her voice had changed to the wheedling, saccharine tone she regularly employed when trying to get her way. Eros sighed. “All right. I’ll do it, but I won’t be so uncouth as to make her love a rock. I’ll think of something more appropriate. I do have one condition first.” “Name it.” Aphrodite was radiant again, her lovely cheeks flushed with the ease of her success. “One day I will ask you for a favor, Mother,” the god explained, his eyes slyly twinkling. “You must grant it without demur.” Aphrodite frowned and sank back onto her divan. “You ask a lot!” she snapped. Eros shrugged. “It is my price.” Aphrodite was a creature of the moment. She rarely troubled herself with considerations of the future as long as her current needs (however capricious) were met. After only a moment’s thought, she nodded. “I agree.”

*** Eros muttered to himself as he filled two amber vases from the fountains in Aphrodite’s garden. These fountains were his mother’s pet projects: one consisted of ambrosial waters and granted the drinker all the joys of reciprocated love. The other consisted of bitter, caustic waters, acrid of fumes and horrid of taste. Those who drank of the second fountain suffered the grief of unrequited love. Eros considered these fountains his secret arsenal. He used the waters arbitrarily, unconcerned about the fate of his victims. Occasionally out of sheer malice he’d use the bitter waters to create appallingly inappropriate matches. His personal favorite was causing the wife of King Minos of Crete to fall in love with a bull. He grinned at the thought of the minotaur that was the result of that unfortunate union. He spared a moment’s worth of pity for this unknown girl. Invoking the wrath of Aphrodite was guaranteed to give her a horrible fate. Eros knew more about mortals than his mother did, simply because he worked with and around them every day. This girl, whoever she was, was about to suffer for some insult she didn’t know she’d

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

-7-

delivered. Eros fastened the amber bottles to the top of his quiver. Without a backward glance, he unfurled his wings and flew into the celestial fields of Olympus which were already stained with the last rays of the setting sun.

*** Psyche sat beside the bathing pool, her hand trailing absently in the water. For the moment she was alone and glad of the solitude. All that long afternoon, she’d had to sit through the tedious and noisy wedding ceremony of her older sister. It was bad enough that Clyte had lorded it over her for the past few weeks, extolling the virtues of her decidedly middle-aged husband-to-be, but to sit there and be ogled by those hundreds of men was unfair. Particularly since she knew not a single one of them would offer for her. That was the way of things. Although every man cast hot eyes upon her, not a single one had ever proposed marriage to her. She was an unwilling idol, an object of lust and veneration that wasn’t granted the right to marry and have children like other young women. Like her sisters. Psyche didn’t really like her sisters. Clyte and Myrne had never been her friends. Although both were pretty enough, they took out their feelings of jealousy on their younger sister and insulted her as often as they could. Only tonight at the wedding feast, Clyte’s shrill voice had risen above the drunken men and screeched, “It’s a shame Psyche is too stupid to marry! What man wants an idiot for a wife?” Psyche rose in irritation at the memory. Shedding her thin, gauze tunic, she glanced at her reflection in the still waters of the pool. Her long hair fell to her thighs, shrouding her body in the red-gold glory so prized by the men of Greece. Her full breasts accentuated her tiny waist and flaring hips, and the long, slim legs were pale as marble in the flickering light of the braziers. “What good is my supposed beauty?” she asked aloud, her voice bitter as she waded into the water. “It gains me nothing but lewd comments and an empty bed.”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

-8-

The warm water eased up her flesh, caressing her skin with silky fingers. Helplessly, she felt her body respond to the movement, slight as it was. She was a woman now, ready for love and the pleasures of the marriage bed. Every night was spent tossing in the throes of frustration as she ran her own hands across her body and imagined --- something. Someone, rather, who took her body for himself and made her his own. She’d listened to the conversations of the matrons at the court, some of whom were several years younger than her eighteen summers, and the thought of sex made her shiver. Her hands slid over her breasts, brushing her already taut nipples so that her belly clenched. What would it feel like, that feeling of surrender to the caresses of a man’s hand? How would he touch her? She knew from her own experiments that she liked being touched… craved the feeling of slick tightness that built within her body. Her hands contracted, squeezing her nipples until a rush of pain mingled with the pleasure. Psyche lay back, her hair fanning around her in the water like a fiery halo, and sighed. I’ll probably never know. No man will want me for his son, not after what happened to Helen of Sparta. Not even an old lecher will share my bed. I will be an old, dried-up husk before I feel this thing I crave. Her hands moved feverishly down her flanks until her fingers parted the hair between her legs. She gasped as a fingernail scraped against the sensitive flesh of her clitoris, then the sensation of the warm water wrapped itself around her limbs once more. She flicked her finger against the tight little node and shock waves rippled through her body. Psyche closed her eyes and let the fantasy take her. She positioned the clitoris between two of her fingers and moved them in a slow, lazy circle. Her other hand moved lower as she inserted two fingers into herself and started a slow, steady, maddening pulse. The muscles of her vagina clenched around them and the water was suddenly warmer, searing against her skin. Alone in her bath, the lonely princess

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

-9-

pleasured herself with the sad conviction that her touch was the only one she’d ever know.

*** Eros watched from the shadows, his great wings barely moving in the warm breeze coming from the ocean. The girl below him groaned, her head moving in search of something she couldn’t find, and he felt himself harden at the sight. She was lovely. Her hands were moving faster now, working with the practiced efficiency of one who’d brought herself to release many times before. Eros’ mouth went suddenly dry. Her breasts, buoyed by the water, were as enticing as anything he’d ever seen. He pictured his golden-warm skin, the skin of a god, against that milk-white flesh, her soft body trapped and writhing beneath his own, her moans swallowed by his own mouth, and the god caught his breath. He moved restlessly as the girl below him turned her face into her own shoulder, her small, white teeth biting lightly into the skin. Her long, pale hands moved swiftly now, her whole body shaking with the force of her arousal. He watched, fascinated, as her fingers dipped into her own vagina, twisting and curving as they drove into her. Eros could see the tiny pink clitoris from his lofty perch, slipping through the slick skin of her fingertips. She gasped suddenly, arching, and the god witnessed the muscles rippling down her thighs as the juices of her orgasm mingled with the waters of the pool, floating upon the shimmering length of it. Eros jerked in instinctive reaction, and a splash of water from the amphora of bitter waters fell onto her wet hair. The girl relaxed, settling into a curve of the pool and reaching for a jar of scented oil. Eros, freed from his reverie, pulled an arrow from his quiver and notched it to his bow. In obedience to his mother, he’d located a particularly foul guard stationed down the hall from the princess’ chambers. Aphrodite would approve: the man was harelipped, pot-bellied, and wall-eyed to boot. It was time. He lifted the bow, sighting down his arm to send the bolt flying into the girl’s heart.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 10 -

And almost instantly lowered it. Psyche climbed from the pool. Completely at ease with her nudity, she unstopped the delicate blown glass jar and poured the scented oil into her hands. A scent of roses drifted to Eros’ hiding place and he grinned. She was rubbing the oil into her flawless skin, working the perfume over her arms with slow, deliberate movements. She dribbled more oil over her chest, rubbing it in long, languorous circles over her breasts, sliding her oil-slicked fingers over the darker circles of the areolas then moving onto her flat belly. The bow forgotten, he leaned forward as the oil trickled down her thighs. He felt a swift jab of pain. Looking down, he found the tip of the arrow had pierced his own, immortal skin. Ichor, the blood of the divine, trickled from the tiny wound. The brief instant of dismay was replaced instantly with growing jubilation. He lifted his eyes to the girl once more and a hungry expression crept across his face. Psyche was attending to her lower legs now, bent over in such a way as to grant him an unimpeded view of her bottom. Eros’ glance moved to the rosy mouth of her vagina, the now oil-slicked promise of her sex, and his tongue darted over his lips. “She is mine,” the god said. He didn’t stop to examine the statement. Eros knew, as none other, that the prick of his arrow was infallible. In times past even his mother, who nominally ruled him, had felt the ignominy of his darts. There was nothing he could do save to give into this sudden hunger, to submit to the tide of love that overwhelmed the lust he’d already felt. Psyche moved to her lonely couch, her lovely face shadowed. She didn’t even bother covering herself with the nearly-transparent robe that maidens wore in the night. She simply lay upon the divan as a lone tear coursed down her cheek. One arm was flung above her head, lifting her breasts so that they jutted to the sky in flagrant invitation to a lover she never thought she’d have. Eros frowned. The water that had fallen upon her was already taking effect. The hopelessness of her situation was brought home to her now, more painfully than before. In sudden fury, he furled his wings and descended, invisible, to the ground.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 11 -

“Sleep,” he murmured. Instantly, Psyche fell into a deep, untroubled sleep. Eros approached the couch and stood over her for a moment. She was his. Without stopping to consider the consequences, he scratched her arm with the arrow tinged with his golden blood. Psyche gasped, her eyes flying open in shock, and for a split second their eyes met. Eros leaned down and touched her on the forehead. The lovely eyes closed once more. “I will not allow my mother’s anger to ruin you,” he said softly, his voice no more than a whisper. He reached for the second jar, the jar filled with the waters of joy, and poured the entire thing over her nude body. Dropping the empty vessel onto the floor, he divested himself of quiver and bow as well. “There is no need for you to pleasure yourself further,” Eros said. His hand fell lightly upon the slow rise and fall of her belly, and the god marveled at the satiny texture of her oiled, perfumed skin. His hand moved slowly to the curve of her breast and Psyche moved restlessly in her sleep. Desire scorched his veins as he cupped her breast, his other hand moving to its twin. “I will pleasure you now,” he vowed, and bent his immortal head to press his mouth against her skin. The taste of the oil assaulted his tongue. He slid it up her body, his chest already slicked from the oil, and fastened his mouth upon her breast. Psyche moaned. He drew her nipple into his mouth, savoring the way she arched against him as his hands trailed down her sides. She pressed against him, her hands moving to his shoulders just above the wings that grazed against his thighs. Eros laughed and removed her hands, pulling them over her head as he lifted his mouth from her breast. She was beautiful. Her mouth was slightly open, her delicate skin flushed. His free hand moved swiftly to penetrate the thatch of tightly curled hair, sliding over her clitoris already silken from oil and release. She tossed her head, her breath sobbing in her throat.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 12 -

He watched her. His fingers moved quicker, dipping suddenly into the hot wetness of her pussy, withdrawing abruptly to manipulate the bud of her clitoris with quick, strong movements while she arched her back. His mouth fell upon her breast once more, sucking strongly at the nipple and rolling it between her teeth. Her thighs trembled suddenly, clamping with fierce intensity around his hand. He slowed his pace, teasing her with light flicks against the throbbing pulse that was her sex. Her hands twisted the cushions. Eros released her wrists. “You want more,” he whispered, his teeth scraping down her skin. “Until such a time as I can make you my own, you must remain virgin.” The musky tang of her arousal wafted through his senses as he placed quick kisses along her quivering belly. He removed his hand from her, causing her to whimper in frustration, and moved between her legs. Settling himself above her, he feasted his eyes upon the sight of her quivering body. “Virgin, but not untouched,” he grated with sudden violence. His mouth descended upon her vagina, forcing the lips apart with his own, as his tongue drew her clitoris into his mouth. His shoulders forced her legs up, restraining them between his back and the strong curve of his wings. His arms curved around her thighs, trapping them around his head. He sucked on her clitoris, hard, and the girl screamed in response. The god tasted the salt of her arousal, savored it on his tongue. He suckled harder, moving one hand past his chin to her vagina. She screamed again when his fingers entered her, bucking frantically against the solidity of his body. Psyche came, exploding into his mouth with a force that surprised him. He swallowed her cum, enjoying the taste of his possession of her even as his hand pounded a primal rhythm against her labia. He gave her no respite, no chance to recover, and brought her to another orgasm within minutes. His cock was throbbing painfully, erect and stabbing into the side of the divan. The god raised his head dizzily. Despite the instinct that screamed at him, demanding he slam into her willing flesh and possess her completely, a touch of sanity remained in

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 13 -

his lust-fogged mind. She is mine, but she is my mother’s sworn rival. If I take her now, I leave her to censure and worse. He pulled his hand free as her legs shook with the aftermath of her orgasm. Deliberately, he stuck his fingers into his mouth, sucking the last drops of her pleasure from them while his free hand moved soothingly over her heated skin. It would take some time. He needed a few days to make his plans, to devise a hiding place where she would be free of Aphrodite’s wrath. Until then, he must content himself with these stolen pleasures and the gratification of forcing her from her goddess-cursed loneliness. Eros ran his mouth along the inside of her thigh, watching with satisfaction as goose pimples rose upon her skin. He stood. She lay replete upon the tumbled covers, her skin flushed with the heat that sex gives to a woman, still in the deep sleep he’d placed upon her. Eros, the god of love, the mischief-maker of the gods, was well and truly struck by his own power. He loved her, pure and simple. At this moment, the god knew he would kill any man who dared to touch her. He bent to kiss her, once with love and then with passion. Her mouth opened beneath his joyfully, her tongue mating wildly with his. Eros shuddered and pulled away regretfully. Once again, the fevered thought raced across his mind. She is mine.

Chapter Two Psyche awoke the next morning and stretched. Her body was deliciously sore, her breasts aching pleasantly. For the first time in many months, she smiled as the silent servants entered the room to attend her. What a strange dream, she thought. What a fun dream. The girls moved efficiently through their morning tasks, one servant placing a tray of fruit and cheese before her while another helped her into a thin robe of purest white. The third girl knelt before an intricately carved chest. “Your father, the king, has requested your presence in the audience chamber,” she said, pulling a pleated blue tunic and a pair of thin sandals from the trunk. “Will this suit, your highness?” Psyche barely glanced at it and waved her hand. “Of course,” she agreed and was amazed at the languorous tone of her voice. As if in response, her muscles clenched again. The girls went about their work soundlessly while their mistress daydreamed over her breakfast. Flashes of a smooth, muscled chest and vivid blue eyes swam through her mind while she peeled a pear. As she bit into the succulent fruit, she noted that her lips were slightly swollen, sensitive to the touch and texture of the fleshy meat. What in the world is wrong with me? Psyche dismissed the thought almost as soon as it occurred. Nothing was wrong with her! She’d had a wonderful dream, the sun was shining, and for the first time in months that horrible, hungering ache was gone from her body.

*** “I sent to the oracle at Delphi some time ago,” the king said gently. He sat on a simple chair, elevated upon a cloth-draped dais as he looked at his daughter. Psyche

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 15 -

masked her surprise at the formality of his attire: he was wearing his golden helm, the mark of his rank, and below the rim his eyes were sad. For the first time, she noticed her father was aging, salt sprinkled liberally through the pepper of his hair, and without knowing why she did so Psyche shivered. “Yes?” she inquired, her voice low. “About you.” “Oh.” The single syllable was flat. She opened her eyes wider, confused by the solemn tone in his voice. “I wanted to know if I had incurred the wrath of the gods,” he said, rising suddenly and gesturing to the gathered courtiers. Immediately, they obeyed his silent demand and filed from the room, closing the great doors behind them. The king eyed his daughter with morose speculation. “I wondered if somehow I had caused them to look upon you with disfavor, my daughter. It made no sense to me that you were unwed and unsought when the entire world knows you are lovely beyond the prettiness of your sisters.” Psyche’s mouth went suddenly dry. “What did the oracle say?” The king’s mouth twisted with grief. “The response was this: The maiden is bound for the bride of no human lover. Her resulting husband anticipates her on the top of the mountain. He is a fiend whom neither gods nor man can withstand.” Psyche swayed as the import of the prophecy struck her. A monster! What had she done… what could she have done to bring this fate upon her? The king’s eyes filled with tears. “In three days’ time, my daughter, we are to take you to the mountain, garbed in your bridal gown, and leave you for the monster that dwells there.” “Is there -- is there no other choice?” she faltered. “The decree was absolute,” he replied. “I must obey. To refuse the guidance of Delphi is to encourage destruction upon my people. I am sorry, Psyche; I have no choice.” “Does Mother know?”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 16 -

“She does. She weeps in her chamber with her women.” Psyche considered this and abruptly rage swept through her. She was cursed, was she? She was fated to fall to the embraces of a fiend, was she? I have been reverent toward the gods and given them all their due. This isn’t fair! It’s like one of them --- hates me. Suddenly, everything was clear. Her amber-flecked eyes sparked angrily, but she said in a low voice, “Better that she had wept when the people compared me to Aphrodite. It is her anger I have incurred. I am punished for aspiring to the honors of a goddess, when I never did so consciously.” The king bowed his head. “It is so.” Psyche raised her head proudly. “Very well, then. Although I am accused of contending with the goddess, the Fates know I never did so. I submit to her will. If to the monster she condemns me, then to the monster I shall go.”

*** Psyche lay tossing on her narrow couch. The day had been spent in doleful preparation. The oracle was quite specific: Psyche must go with all of the pomp and dignity of a royal bride. Everything, even to the wedding procession, must be according to custom. Her mother had treated the ceremonial preparations more like a funeral than a wedding, wringing her hands and sobbing as her women prepared the traditional wedding chiton and tunic. The day had been a nightmare, and not helped by the gloating presence of her older sisters. Clyte and Myrne hid their exultation under false sympathy, crooning words of sorrow that couldn’t mask the smug glee underneath. Psyche ignored them, much as she always had, moving automatically through the symbolic removal of a lock of her hair and embroidering her bridal veil. Her face, while serene, hid the churning anger within her. Then, abruptly, her thoughts would revert to the fiend upon the mountain and a cold shiver would trace its searing way down her spine. So much for dreams, she thought bitterly, rising to pace around the room in agitation. Her chambers were dear to her, lit with low braziers that reflected upon the

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 17 -

calm stillness of the bathing pool and diffused through the gossamer draperies that caressed the painted walls. The wide windows were open to the hot, moist breath of the night, bringing not only the spicy scent of the flowers blooming in the garden below but the salt tang of the sea as well. Despondently, she threw herself into a chair, staring out at the black velvet of the night sky. Just over the horizon, the hunter Orion rose from his daily slumber in pursuit of the scorpion that killed him. Psyche’s eyes suddenly grew heavy. Try as she might, she couldn’t remain awake. Despite the tumult of her mind and the fear in her heart, the princess sank, unresisting, into a hazy sleep.

*** Eros descended quietly to stand before his sleeping love, his wings moving effortlessly. The god smiled, drinking in her beauty. He’d ignored his greater duties for most of the day, making his hurried arrangements to spirit Psyche away. The oracle from Delphi had only confirmed his decision; if the sibyl of Apollo wished to call him a fiend, so much the better. It was true, after all, that neither god nor man could withstand him. As he’d found to his own cost. Her breasts moved gently under the sheer linen of her gown, her long, red hair falling in a loose braid over one shoulder. Even the sweep of her eyelashes against the porcelain perfection of her cheek was lovely. He reached to stroke her face, but a single caress of longing against the silk of her skin and a tingle of exhilaration burned through him. “Do not fear your fate, beloved,” he breathed into her ear, knowing that his words would penetrate her sleeping mind. “You are to be exalted above all other mortal women, as the one who brought the god of love himself to his knees.” Psyche stirred slightly, her lips parting as if for a kiss. Eros obliged her, pressing his own against hers with soft passion. Slowly, the god knelt before her chair, his eyes wondering.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 18 -

“You are lovely,” he said. His hands slid across her thighs as he leaned closer, his breath stirring the tiny curls at her temple. The thin gown slithered up, exposing her long, lithe legs. His mouth moved just above her ear, whispering across her skin. “You are mine.” His fingers were used to bowstring and arrow. Even a god’s fingers become roughened after eons of use. Her skin was so soft, so smooth to his touch. It made him hunger for more. His lips moved to the tender flesh of her neck, creating a warm, moist trail down the slender column. Psyche’s head fell back, exposing more of her skin to the advance of his mouth. One hand moved to the narrow, loose strap of the gown, pushing it from her shoulder until the tip of one breast was bared. He pushed closer to her, the hem of the gown riding even higher, and took her breast into his mouth. Beneath his lips, her pulse quickened. His hands moved impatiently to the other strap, stripping it down her arms until she was completely exposed to his ravenous eyes. Desire flooded his mouth. His tenuous control snapped. With a quick jerk, he ripped the gown into two pieces. It fluttered away from his hands and he stared down at the woman beneath him. He extinguished the braziers with a trace of power, casting the chamber into shadow. Breathing heavily, he pulled her legs over his shoulders. Then, with a mental whisper he nudged her awake. Her eyes flew open, widening in astonishment. “This time, you will be aware of me,” he growled. His hands spread her apart and he stared greedily at her sex, open to his view and visible to his immortal eyes. The god felt her startled jump as she tried to pull away, but ignored her frantic movements to free herself. He turned his head and placed a scorching kiss on the inside of her ankle. “Relax,” he murmured. “Show me how I excite you.” “Who are you?” she whispered. “Why can’t I see you?” His mouth moved slowly up her calf, nibbling at the sensitive skin while his thumbs traced slow circles on her thighs. “I am the fiend you fear so greatly. I am your

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 19 -

destiny, your fortune, your betrothed fate. I am he who moves through the shadows of the night to show you the heights of the gods themselves.” She shivered as his words tickled her flesh. His questing lips intensified, singeing into her skin like a brand. A cool breeze blew through the windows, raising her nipples to hard points. “I don’t know what you’re doing!” she gasped. “I am making you mine,” Eros snarled, his thumbs slipping into her pubic hair and seeking the wet contours hidden there. “I want you to know what it is that you fear. I want you to crave it, to dream about it, to long for it.” She gasped as his thumbs moved lightly over her clitoris, arousing it to hard attention. “Who are you?” He could smell her arousal, feel her back arching despite herself. The god smiled and traced a light circle just above her knee as she squirmed. “I am Love,” he said, inserting his finger into her. Psyche moaned as he began to move it within her, stroking her with long, slow motions. His other hand continued to manipulate her clitoris, rubbing it with a sensuous circular movement that brought her to shudder upon the chair which prevented her from moving away from the insidious, relentless excitement of her body. She was trapped, ensnared between the untiring solidity of the chair and the pressure of his body. No matter how she moved, she could not evade the extravagant titillation of his hands, the subtle stimulation of his mouth. His hand slammed passionately into her, his fingers curving up to caress the walls of her vagina. The sensation caused her to shriek, the sound lost under the ravenous hunger of his mouth attacking hers. Her tongue rose of its own volition, twining desperately with his as his hands continued their inexorable conquest of her. Eros pulled away abruptly, his lips moist with the saliva of the girl writhing beneath him. “Tell me what you want!” he demanded, his voice no more than a low, rough whisper as his fingers traced the sensitive interior of her labia. Psyche was confused, and her body twisted under the expert manipulations of the god. “I don’t know!” she cried.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 20 -

“Don’t you?” The quiet question penetrated her throes of heat, and Eros’ wet, hot tongue stroked the inside of her thigh. She screamed at the sensation, her hips thrusting wildly up from the chair. Eros smiled. His mouth fell upon her pussy, devouring her. His tongue stroked wildly up the sides of the wet, throbbing flesh until he pulled her clitoris into his mouth with a loud, drawing sound. As his tongue flickered violently around her clit, his fingers sank once more into her vagina, slamming a primal rhythm into the flesh between her legs. His other hand moved over her mouth, drowning out the sound of her enraptured cry. Psyche could not escape the climbing pressure within her. Where her unknown lover’s mouth was not, his hands were. She writhed in profound agitation, her carnal stimulation straining at the limits of her consciousness. “What do you want?” he grated, lifting his head from her. Even his breath upon her innermost sanctum brought her to the brink of arousal and she thrashed in his unrelenting grip. “I don’t know!” she cried. “I -- I want something but I don’t know what it is!” His forefinger traced the opening to her vagina, brushing lightly against the hypersensitive flesh. “You know what you want,” he purred, his tongue stroking strongly against the quivering muscles of her thighs. “Tell me what you want!” Psyche sobbed frantically, pushing against the back of the chair while Eros’ hands, his clever, cruel, tormenting hands, played with her secret desires and tempted her beyond the point of reason. No matter how she moved, she couldn’t evade his touch: his mouth, moving heatedly on her shivering flesh, his hands dipping into the seat of her pleasure and torturing her sex beyond endurance, his hair, drifting across the soft skin of her thighs like eiderdown. Even his eyes, hot and sharp under the sapphire sheen, aroused her skin wherever they touched. She could barely see them, twin beacons of desire that anchored her to the here and the now, driving her to acceptance of her fate.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 21 -

“Tell me!” he snapped again, his teeth grazing the very tip of her clit. She cried out in fear and expectation, her hips bucking into Eros’ face. He took a moment to taste her, thoroughly, his tongue sinking into the wet folds of her vagina then slipping up to tease the hard nodule that took her over the edge. Over the plateau of her flat pelvis, he watched as her face transformed from that of a maiden to that of a wanton, sure of what she wanted and craved from her lover; secure in her sexuality and her ability to peak within it, to take her lover with her and to expect nothing less than more in the future. He hummed suddenly, the bud of her clitoris held tightly within his lips. The vibration sent her, sobbing helplessly, into the throes of uncontrollable response. The god clasped his immortal arms around her thighs, restricting her while his mouth suckled at the very core of her being. Psyche screamed. The orgasm exploded through her body, and for a moment everything was black. When she eased back into consciousness, her mystery lover still suckled lightly upon her sex, his hands moving strongly, but gently, over her heated flesh. “Tell me what you want,” he murmured, licking her dripping pussy with long, luxurious strokes. “Tell me, beloved.” “I want you,” she breathed, her entire body falling open to the desire that pierced her body with painful longing. “Tell me: is this what I’m supposed to feel? Is this the feeling that will make me want to give up my virginity?” “I will take your virginity,” Eros rumbled, his arms solidifying into immobile bands of iron. “Not tonight, not here. When you are in my palace, beauteous mortal, you will beg me to take your virtue, and thank me when I do.” Her hands drifted upwards, sliding over the god’s smooth biceps, and Eros trapped both of her hands in his. “I want to touch you,” she complained. “You will touch me until the end of days, beloved,” he breathed, dragging his open mouth along the column of her neck so that a trail of molten metal scorched its frustrated way across her skin. “For now, I would have you tell me what you want.”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 22 -

“I don’t know.” “You lie.” The sentence was flat, but a teasing note betrayed the mischief of the god. “You know exactly what you want.” “I want your mouth on me.” “Where?” Eros was relentless, his hand once more tracing the opening of her pussy with a light, teasing touch. “There.” The god grinned, his finger sliding only an inch into her -- enough to make her gasp but not enough to lose her attention. “Where, beloved?” “Put your mouth on me,” she begged, arching against him. “Tell me where.” “On my pussy,” she blurted, turning her face into her shoulder in shame. Eros lifted her chin with a steady hand. “Never fear to ask for what you desire,” he said quietly. “With me, you shall know no shame.” Before she could reply his mouth plundered her once more, his tongue thrusting wildly into her vagina while his hands moved like quicksilver against the shivering flesh of her clit. Psyche screamed, rearing back so violently that her head cracked against the back of the chair. Still, remorselessly, he ransacked her. His tongue dove so deeply into her and with such force that she came without realizing it, only to find herself writhing helplessly moments later in the grip of another, more powerful climax. He reveled in her surrender, teasing her beyond the point of endurance, occasionally slipping two fingers into her for a hard, brief moment of reality, then withdrawing as she wept in frustration. “What do you want?” He demanded it of her again, his divine vision observing her as she thrashed abjectly in the chair. “I don’t know!” she moaned as his fingers rolled her clit between them. “You do,” he said sternly. “Tell me now!”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 23 -

Her eyes opened to their fullest. She stared at him sightlessly for a moment, and then whispered, “I want you. Inside of me.” “Is that all?” Eros demanded, feeling the pulse in his cock intensify suddenly. Her eyes fluttered closed, as if in shame. “I want you.” The god’s heart swelled in fast triumph. “Do you still fear me?” “No.” “Do you want me?” “Yes.” “Now?” “Please,” she begged as a tear slid down her cheek. “Please! I need to feel you. I beseech you -- have pity upon me!” His penis was pounding painfully, straining to sweep into her wet, tight, virginal body and ram his possession of this mortal girl into her very soul. Even as he hesitated, a slow drop of moisture oozed onto the head of his shaft, and Eros closed his eyes in momentary indecision. She was virgin and she was, as of this moment, unwed. Could he take his pleasure? Would it be fair? “Please?” she pled once more, her body twisting relentlessly against the desire surging within her. “No,” he heard himself saying. “You will come to our marriage bed a virgin, as difficult as it is for me to withhold what you desire, beloved. It is only a matter of days; I can wait.” “I can’t,” she confessed, then hid her face in shame. Eros grasped her chin gently. “Never turn your face from the desire that love places within your breast,” he said softly. “Take pride in your freedom to experience the full power of craving another’s body. It will bring you great joy in the end.” “And you are the monster on the mountain?” she asked in wonder. “Yes,” he replied, taking a long, deliberate taste of her pussy while she moaned and writhed against him. His arms clamped more strongly around her thighs, and

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 24 -

Psyche realized that she could not move at all. She was trapped; pinned between the chair and her lover with nowhere else to go. “I leave you a virgin,” he breathed against her fluttering flesh. “But you will come for me again, beloved.” Two fingers slammed into her, curving up to abrade against the outer wall of her vagina. She reared up from the chair, sighing on a sobbing breath as his mouth attacked her clitoris with relentless speed. The tiny nub moved back and forth, peaking ever higher as Eros’ hand rammed into her. His other hand moved up suddenly, curving around her breast while he played with her nipple. For a moment, Psyche felt as if hundreds of invisible mouths were upon her, suckling at her flesh, tickling her skin, threading through her hair. She screamed. The orgasm attacked her body with long, shuddering, painful pulses as she squirmed and cried under Eros’ clever hands. The god drank of her passion, satiating himself on her release, and then lifted his head. One hand moved to the side of her face, cupping it in a gesture so loving that Psyche nearly wept. “You will remember,” Eros said, and put her to sleep again with a thought. “You are mine.”

Chapter Three “Well?” Aphrodite glared at the reflection of her son in the large, polished mirror she used every morning to admire her own reflection. “It is done,” Eros replied nonchalantly, leaning on his bow. “I arranged for the oracle at Delphi to send the maiden to a monstrous marriage bed; she will be wed to her unseen husband by nightfall.” Aphrodite smiled. Eros maintained a steady gaze on his mother in the mirror. He knew that if he displayed any measure of sympathy for Psyche’s fate the goddess would grow suspicious. The last thing he needed was for Aphrodite to pay too much attention to the proceedings of the afternoon. “Good,” the goddess said, returning to her self-contemplation with a pleased little smile. “Is she upset?” Eros permitted himself a grin. “Terrified and anxious,” he assured her, honesty oozing through his voice. “Thank you, my son,” the goddess said. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

*** The people wept. Psyche moved at the head of the wedding procession in a daze, her filmy wedding tunic and veil whipping around her head. Over the mountain that loomed over the sea, a vicious purple-black cloud bespoke an approaching storm. The people were convinced that even the skies mourned for their beautiful princess, cast to such a barbaric fate. Psyche, however, did not weep. Her face was stoic, calm, almost distracted as she moved through the ceremony without any tears to mar her beauty. Spectators observed to each other that she had never been more beautiful.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 26 -

Behind her, the king and queen were already garbed in the darkest of mourning, the women of the court wailing and tearing their hair. Of all the court, only the elder princesses were dry-eyed; it might even be said that they were smug. The procession wound its way up the curving road of the mountain, the grieving, pounding dirge of the drums accompanying the silent princess on her final walk. Finally, Psyche stopped. Just ahead on the path stood the priestess of the oracular god Apollo with her two attendants flanking her. “You will continue alone,” the sibyl declared in the curious, raspy voice of a seer. “The god forbids your entourage to continue upon this path.” Psyche shivered at the dictate. For a moment she hesitated, instinctively tempted to flee back to the safety of her room. Nothing lies before me but terror and death. Something stirred in the back of her mind; a memory, perhaps, or a dream. Without realizing it, she took her first step toward the sibyl. I want you to know what it is that you fear. I want you to crave it, to dream about it, to long for it. Psyche walked steadily toward her fate. The sibyl’s expression was bland as the princess neared her, but there was a slight twinkle in her eye. While the populace of her father’s city sang a hymn of sorrow behind her, she rounded a curve in the path and disappeared from view.

*** Psyche brushed her forearm against her brow. Of all the damned things! Climbing a mountain path in your wedding finery was something not even a simpleton would do, yet here she was slipping over rocks while thorns snagged her veil! Just as the sun was starting to set, blood-red behind the purple veil of the nearing storm, Psyche reached the end of the path. The trail ended on a grassy plateau, dissipating as if it had never been there. Puzzled, she looked around. There was nothing. Her heart pounding, both from fearful anticipation and the vigor of the climb, she made her way to the center of the plateau. Save for the gently stirring flowers and

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 27 -

the churning underside of the thundercloud, nothing moved. There was no indication that anything waited for her in this high valley. She was alone. The wind lifted the edges of her veil as she sank to her knees. Psyche was tired. The climb and the emotional strain of the forced wedding procession had brought her to exhaustion. She laid her face upon her hand and closed her eyes. As she slept, the Zephyr lifted her gently from her meadow bed and took her, floating over the mountains to the valley the god Eros had claimed as his own.

*** Psyche awoke as a warm twilight settled over the valley and looked around in wonder. Tall, slender trees reared above her, silhouetted against the lighter darkness of the sky. A fountain bubbled merrily among them, tinkling over a lovely grotto of mossy rocks. Behind the fountain, nestled between sprawling gardens, a beautiful house glowed soft-white beneath the stars. Bewildered, Psyche rose to her feet. What is this place? She approached it warily. There was no sign of life, no frothing-mouthed monster rushing from the open doors to devour her. She passed through the portals into the cool freshness of the house. It was lovely, lovelier than her father’s palace. Her mouth fell open as she stared in awe at the powdery marble walls, the rich tapestries and embroidered silk panels, and the elegant furniture. The entrance hall divided to both the right and the left, and a wide stair stretched above her to a second story. Psyche paused, listening for any noise that would indicate someone else was in the house. She heard nothing. Emboldened, she made her way into the room on her right. Psyche gasped. The room was a bower beyond anything she’d ever dreamed. A bathing pool bubbled near a bay of open windows. A huge bed reared in the center of the room, hung with gauzy silks and linen draperies. There were lovely little chairs and tables, couches, and cabinets. A set of doors were flung open in one wall, revealing stacks of folded gowns and tunics in every conceivable color. Coffers were scattered

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 28 -

about the room, jewels and ropes of gold and silver heaped carelessly in and around them. “Mistress?” Psyche jumped and screamed. Whirling back toward the door, she looked wildly for the source of the voice. “Mistress?” The voice was quiet, soothing, and male. “Wh-where are you?” “I am one who serves you. The servants in this house have no physical form. We are invisible and bound to serve your will.” “What is this place?” “This is your home. All of these things are yours to enjoy as you will.” “And the master?” Her pulse pounded as she asked the question. “He will come tonight,” the disembodied voice replied. “Refresh yourself, mistress, and we will set a meal before you to eat at your leisure. It is our responsibility to make certain that you are happy and well-cared for. Our master requires no less.” “Tell me, what is his name?” The air around her lightened suddenly, as if with silent laughter. “He is what the oracle proclaimed him, mistress, and yet so much more. We are not permitted to say more.”

*** After a long bath in the hot, scented water, Psyche allowed the invisible servants to drape a diaphanous robe around her while another arranged her hair in long, loose curls. When she sat at the table, invisible musicians played on lyre and pipes. The meal was delicious, the wine was refreshing, and even the fruit had a sweeter taste than anything she’d eaten before. Everything was sparkling, inviting, and gradually Psyche felt the tensions of the day ease away. The music abruptly ceased. As Psyche looked around in surprise, the flickering lights of the scores of candles suddenly winked out, casting the chamber into silent darkness. She rose to her feet, one hand pressed to the pulse in her throat.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 29 -

“Psyche.” The voice was melodious, a light tenor that teased at her memory. She hesitated, her hand gripping the top of the chair more tightly, and then answered. “Who are you?” “Do you not know?” “You are my husband.” “I am,” he confirmed. “Do you find this place to your liking?” “I haven’t seen it all yet,” she replied. “It is very lovely.” “If there is anything that you desire here, tell one of the servants and it shall be provided for you,” he said. “I have all that I need, milord,” she said quietly. “Why is the room darkened?” “I do not wish for you to see my face,” came the reply. Psyche flinched. Was her husband a monster in truth? Was he so horrible to behold that darkness must shroud his face? A shiver ran through her at the thought. “I will not shrink from you,” she said proudly. “I accept my fate without fear.” “I do not doubt your courage, mortal daughter,” he assured her. “I think only of what is best for you. Do not attempt to see me; let me come to you as a man in the safety of the night. In this way I may preserve your happiness.” Best for her? Psyche filed the comment away to consider later. “Very well,” she agreed. She heard him move across the room, setting something heavy down against the wall. It was uncanny; even the starlight could not illuminate this dark room, although she could see the stars winking as normal through the windows. She stood, holding on to her chair for safety, and waited. “You are lovely,” the voice said, much closer to her now. “Thank you,” Psyche replied, her cheeks growing warm at the caress in the smooth voice. “My beauty has never brought me joy; it earned me the enmity of a goddess instead of love.”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 30 -

He laughed, and the sound caused joy to well into her breast. “You might be surprised at the love your beauty has brought, my wife.” “And the hatred,” she returned. “Yes, the hatred.” He sighed. “You have a powerful enemy. Aphrodite does not take competition lightly, or well. Although I am well aware that you did not set yourself against the goddess, she believes that you did and hates you for it.” “So I find myself here,” Psyche noted sadly. “No, my wife,” the voice disagreed. “You find yourself here to protect you from her wrath. This is not a punishment for you but a haven.” A warm hand cupped her face, wrapping around her skin in the dark. Psyche felt the humanity of the flesh, the brand of the fingers scorching her cheek. “You are human,” she said quietly, remaining still beneath his hand. “No, I am not,” he corrected her, his voice lowering to a husky growl. “I am anything but human.” His hand trailed down her cheek, following the long line of her slim throat. “Should I fear you?” “You have nothing to fear in this place or from me. You will know only pleasure, and ease, and the solace of my love. You will not experience pain or sorrow while you live under this roof, unless you break your promise and look upon my face. It is all that I ask of you; all that I require.” His fingers moved lightly over her shoulder, sliding sensuously down her arm. “Do you fear me then?” “I am afraid,” she confessed. “I do not know what to expect.” “Don’t you?” he asked, his voice amused. “I think you do.” His hand hardened on her arm, his other hand capturing her opposite shoulder in a strong grip. She felt his breath, warm on the side of her face, and instinctively moved closer. “Haven’t you dreamed of this in the night upon your lonely couch? Haven’t you wondered what the feel of a lover’s hands upon your flesh would do to you? Haven’t

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 31 -

you felt such a touch through the last few nights heating the fires within you, mortal maiden? I have come to you before, beloved, and brought you pleasure you could not grant yourself.” His lips pressed between her brows, a quick, warm flick of softness against her smooth skin. “Remember.” Psyche gasped. Her mind flooded with remembered sensation. The memory of wanton desire and arousal flashed through her body like a spear of fire. A low laugh caressed her ear, followed by a nibble on her lobe and a whisper. “You are mine,” he breathed, the words tickling her ear. “I am the fiend you fear so greatly. I am your destiny, your fortune, your betrothed fate. I am he who moves through the shadows of the night to show you the heights of the gods themselves.” “I’ve heard that before,” she murmured, her head falling to one side as his mouth moved from her ear to her neck. “You’ve said that to me before, haven’t you?” “Yes,” he agreed. “When I said it to you last you were a maiden in your father’s house. Now you are mine, my bride, in my house. You will remain a maiden no longer.”

Chapter Four The darkness of the room was oddly reassuring. Psyche shivered as the warm, anonymous lips moved sensuously along the column of her throat. His arms slipped around her waist, pulling her against his chest. One hand moved up her back, threading into her unbound hair. She caught her breath as he pulled her head back, his mouth traveling onto her chest. “Sweet,” he murmured. Psyche felt the vibration of the word reverberating through his body. She put a hand against his shoulder to steady herself, his flesh warm and smooth under her fingers. The mouth left her skin, leaving a cool, moist trail against the night air, and for a moment she felt like protesting its desertion. Then the mouth fell upon hers and she gave herself up to it. His lips were firm, yet soft. His tongue thrust against her own, twining passionately while his hand joined its mate in her hair. She pressed herself closer to him, her breasts flattening against his chest. Instantly, his body hardened, his kiss deepened into a hot, hungry possession of her mouth. For possession it was. There could be no doubt that the hands which suddenly pressed into her flesh were firm with the joy of ownership, as if he was laying claim to her body as well as her soul. Those hands moved swiftly to the side of her throat, framing her face with a moment of gentle sweetness, then slid to the laces of her gown. Instinctively, she stiffened. His lips softened, soothing her. “Do not be afraid,” he murmured. “I will not hurt you.” “I know,” she replied. She felt the bow give way under his questing fingers, the laces loosening slowly. It took only a moment before the gown gaped open almost to her waist.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 33 -

He drew in a slow breath, the inhalation ragged. The hands returned to her shoulders, sliding the gown from them. When it reached her elbows, it stopped. The fabric pinned her arms to her side, her breasts exposed completely. His hands moved to the front of the gown, now tight against her belly. His fingers slipped inside the fabric and pulled it apart with one quick jerk. She stood naked before him. “I have looked upon your body before,” he said harshly. “It was not until this moment that I realized that your beauty is now mine.” Psyche made no move to cover her body, standing before him without shame. The silence grew. She felt his eyes upon her, as if he could see her in the strange darkness that shrouded the room. Then, without a word, he lifted her from her feet. A moment later, he laid her upon the bed. She could just make out his silhouette against the lighter blackness of the night sky. “You can see me.” She made the statement matter-of-fact. “Yes,” he breathed. The mattress sank slightly beneath his weight as he sat next to her. “I can always see you.” “That doesn’t seem fair,” she complained. A single finger traced the line of her face, scorching her skin. “It’s all right from where I’m sitting,” he replied, a note of amusement warming his voice. Psyche laughed. The finger tickled down the side of her neck, then moved up the curve of her breast. For a few seconds it circled her nipple, causing it to stand erect, then departed. His hands returned to her flesh, cupping both of her breasts warmly while his thumbs scraped across her areolas. They continued their journey, pressing lightly into the flat plane of her abdomen, curving around her hips, then back up to caress her breasts once more. She stirred, moving impatiently against him. A low chuckle broke the silence in the room. “You like that, don’t you?” “Yes.”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 34 -

His mouth fell upon her breast, his tongue flicking lightly against the nipple. Psyche gasped, arching into the hot moistness. His teeth scraped against her as he suckled with sudden savagery. She was barely conscious of him moving, so enthralled was she by the sensations racing through her body. Then he lowered his body onto hers. This was what she’d been craving. The weight of a man’s naked body pressed against hers in the darkness gave her the feeling she’d sought for in vain. His mouth left her breast, leaving the nipple erect and cooling in the light breeze, and descended upon hers. Her hands slid up his shoulders, marveling at the smoothness of the skin. As her fingers threaded into his hair, she felt his manhood stir against her thigh. He moved to her side, his hand moving into the curls that masked her sex. Psyche gasped. His long, clever fingers found her clitoris, manipulating it in swift, tight circles. Instinctively, she lifted her hips, thrusting them against his hand and he smiled against her mouth. His mouth moved down her throat, nibbling lightly at her skin, and latched onto her nipple once more. Psyche was lost in a blinding darkness of pleasure, long, hot waves of arousal shuddering through her body. When he inserted two fingers into her vagina, she screamed. “You’re ready for this, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice rough. “Yes!” she sobbed. “Then tell me what you want.” Psyche moaned, her body arching and the muscles of her cunt clenching spasmodically around his fingers. “I don’t know.” “You do.” His voice was implacable. “Please,” she begged. “I want you inside of me.” He didn’t wait to hear more. He moved between her legs, his strong, muscled thighs forcing hers apart. She felt the head of his cock nudging against her sex as his hands dug into the soft flesh of her hips. Excited beyond reason, she stilled expectantly.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 35 -

He speared her. The momentary flash of pain when her virginity was lost was gone almost instantly as the entire hard length of him penetrated to her core. He pulled back slowly, and then thrust deeply into her again. He moved slowly, languorously, each stroke seeming to take a lifetime. The friction caused new reactions within her. She started to move with him, her hips adopting the same rhythm as his own while her pussy clutched greedily at his cock. Above her in the darkness, he groaned. The pace quickened, intensified, while she tried to match it. His hips slammed into her thighs, pounding strongly against her as the frenzy of his desire took over. Her bones turned to water. She turned her head against the covers of the bed, biting helplessly against the pleasure that rose within her body. As the ecstasy rose to an unbearable pitch, his body suddenly grew rigid. He lifted her hips from the bed and drove into her mindlessly, his breaths coming in harsh, short gasps. Then the world exploded.

*** Psyche swam back up from drowsy contentment a few minutes later. He was still inside her, his cock hard but still, and the weight of his body was comforting instead of heavy. He brushed her damp hair back from her face and pressed a light kiss against her brow. “Are you all right?” he murmured. “I’m wonderful,” she said honestly. “I am sorry that I didn’t take more care with you.” His voice was curiously contrite. “Your first time should have been gentler.” “I loved it.” “Are you sore?” She became aware of a tight ache in her vagina, but it was softened by the pleasure that still caused her pulse to race. “Only a little.” “A bath, I think,” he said pragmatically. He pulled out from her body as she sighed in protest. A light chuckle resonated through the darkness. “Do not fear, my

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 36 -

love; we will make love enough to satisfy even your greedy little body. For the moment, however, a hot bath will ease your hurts and relax you.” The bed moved as he rose. With one quick motion, he lifted her into his arms. A few quick strides and he was walking into the sunken bathing pool. As the hot water lapped around her body, Psyche relaxed against him. “You might be right,” she confessed. He set her onto a low bench, and the steaming water rose around her shoulders. For a time they sat in silence, Psyche leaning contentedly against her husband’s side. Curiosity got the better of her, however, and she asked, “Is it always like that?” “Not for everyone. The pleasure is greater for those who truly love each other,” came the reply. “For us, it will always be that way if not better.” “I never knew,” she said. “Whenever I asked about it, I was told that women shouldn’t concern themselves with such things.” His arms settled around her in the water, one hand moving up to play idly with her breasts. “It is unfortunate that most men think their lovers exist only to gratify their pleasure. Actually, the sexual act is intended to please the woman. It is a husband’s responsibility to teach his wife the ways of love, to instruct her gently.” “Why?” She felt him frown against her hair. “It is our duty to satisfy the woman who gives us children. If we do not, then it is an affront to the goddess who oversees the ways of love. By giving pleasure, we do honor to her.” “And to her son,” Psyche said lightly. He stilled. “Her son? Why would you say that?” “Because Eros is the god of love. He brings love to us and every act of love is in gratitude to him for his blessings,” she replied as if by rote. “That’s what I was taught, at any rate.” He pulled her onto his lap, burying his face against the back of her neck. His hands cupped her breasts, his callused thumbs teasing her nipples to awareness as his mouth left a trail of kisses down her neck. “So you think we do honor to Eros, do you?”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 37 -

Her head fell back against his shoulder as she closed her eyes. The pleasure was building within her once more, her breasts tightening in his hands. “Isn’t that what you were taught?” “Not exactly,” he said, smiling against her skin. “What do you think then?” “I think we should do more honor to the god of love,” he whispered, his cock hardening under her buttocks. One hand slid under the water, threading into the hair between her thighs and flicking lightly against her clit. She squirmed as he bit lightly into her shoulder. He groaned in her ear and his kisses became more passionate, sucking at her wet skin. A moment later he lifted her from his lap, then buried his manhood within her once more. “Let me turn around so I can kiss you,” she begged. “No,” he grated. His fingers found her clitoris once more, rubbing the node with urgency. She arched against his chest. His free hand returned to her breast, pinching and twisting the nipple as he began to move slowly within her. “This feels different,” she gasped. “It does,” he agreed, his fingers moving more quickly against her heated flesh. He sucked the side of her neck greedily, kneading her breast while she gasped in surprise. The heat of her desire burgeoned as he continued to move deliberately, never increasing his tempo despite her growing desperation. Psyche moaned, all pretense of modesty evaporating under his steady assault on her womb. “Come for me,” he whispered against her throat, his fingers working her clitoris in a fast, tight circle. She writhed, sobbing as his upper arm pinned her against his chest. She couldn’t move, trapped against his superior strength and the torturous ease of his cock stroking within her. The stimulation of her sex drove her into a frenzy, frantically craving the release of hard, fast movement to ease her. Instead, this arousal of opposites frustrated and agitated her desire into greater need. “Come for me,” he urged once more, biting lightly on her skin.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 38 -

It was as if the second command released the tension within her. The orgasm seared through her body, the juices exploding from her belly while she arched and screamed. He laughed a joyful, boyish laugh and rose to his feet, lifting her while remaining firmly within her. “And now, my love, it’s my turn,” he said. Carefully, he set her feet on the floor of the bathing pool. Psyche was weak-legged, almost limp in his grasp, and didn’t protest when he bent her forward against the edge of the pool. As soon as she was situated, he began to move again. This time, he wasn’t slow and gently tormenting. His penis impaled her, thrusting into her vagina with swift relish. His hands cupped her hips, moving her to this new, savage tempo. Psyche felt his manhood swell within her, lengthening as the slick walls of her pussy savored the primitive pounding of his cock into her femininity. He ground his hips into her, a low groan issuing from his throat. “Do you like that?” he grated, his fingers digging almost painfully into her skin. “Yes!” she screamed, tossing her head back so that long, wet tendrils of her hair stung against his chest. Water sloshed over the edge of the pool, splashing onto the marble floors as he plunged into her recklessly. Their love-making rose to an impassioned crescendo, until finally he shouted in primal triumph and emptied his seed into her womb. Almost instantly, her body convulsed with an orgasm of her own, and the juices of both mingled with the warm, scented water of the bathing pool.

*** “I don’t think I can move,” she groaned a few minutes later. “Would it please you to know that I don’t think I can either?” he asked ironically, easing from her body and pulling her onto the ledge as he collapsed. Psyche smiled to herself in the darkness, a pleased little smile that betrayed a new awareness of her feminine power over her lover. “I think it does,” she said demurely.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 39 -

He laughed, cuddling her against him with arms that still trembled. “Give me a few moments, love, and I’ll take you back to bed.” She settled against him in contentment, her body weary yet alive with new sensations. “I don’t understand any of this,” she mused. “I love you, but I have never seen your face. I don’t know how it is possible that I can feel like this. I don’t even know your name!” “It isn’t possible for you to know me at this time,” he replied seriously. “It would not be safe for you.” “Safe?” “There are some who would not approve of our marriage, Psyche. In time, perhaps, we can be together openly and without fear. You should realize, however, that it will take time. You must trust me in this matter; I only have your welfare in mind.” “Can’t I even know your name?” The question was wistful. He tightened his arms around her but was silent for a moment. “Not yet, my love,” he said at last. “Some day you will understand why.” “I have to call you something,” Psyche complained. He laughed again, and when he spoke there was a definite note of mischief in his voice. “Call me Eros,” he suggested. “That way when you scream my name as I make love to you, we will be doing homage to the god of love in truth.”

Chapter Five Psyche settled into her new life happily. Over the next few days, she explored her new home, attended always by the bodiless voices that kept her company during the long, lonely days. There were numerous rooms, all beautifully decorated, and various wonderful things with which Psyche amused herself. There were any number of musical instruments, a room with nothing but scrolls and books, a lovely garden with a fishpond. The morning after her wedding, she awoke to find a tiny terrier puppy curled up in a basket at the foot of her bed. This new companion she named Apollo, and together they played on the flower-filled field before the house. In the late afternoon, while the puppy slept the sleep of exhaustion in his basket, she bathed and did her hair, donning one of the luxurious gowns in the great wardrobes. Adding perfume and jewels, she sat to her solitary meal and waited for the master of the house to return to her. Every night, the sudden quenching of the candles and braziers announced his presence, and she went willingly into his arms. She was more than content to accept her fate and to behave as he saw fit. There came a day when she sat by the open windows, reading a poem while the puppy dozed at her feet, and an odd noise caught her attention. Lifting her head from the scroll with a frown, she turned to the windows and listened carefully. A doleful wail drifted across the little valley, borne by the west wind. She peered into the distance, wondering where the sound originated. Finally, she said, “Sarpedon?” Psyche had amused herself by giving the invisible servants names, although she couldn’t really tell one from the other. “Yes, mistress?” “What is that noise?”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 41 -

She thought the servant hesitated before answering, “It is the sound of two women weeping, mistress.” “I don’t see anyone; who are they?” “They are your sisters, mistress. They go to the mountaintop where last they saw you and grieve for you daily.” Did she imagine the slight note of disapproval in the disembodied voice? “Grieve for me? My sisters?” Psyche laughed merrily. “I do not think they are sincere in their mourning, my lady.” Sarpedon’s voice was bland. “Your sisters are intent upon proving their grief to your father’s people who do not look kindly upon them.” With that, the servant went away. Psyche stared out the window thoughtfully, her eyes on the distant mountain while the weeping continued unabated.

*** Eros rested under a broad elm tree, his bow at his side. It had been a long day. Since his nights were now fully occupied with his new wife, he was compelled to work twice as hard during the day to fulfill his slated tasks. As he rested, he thought about Psyche, a small smile upon his lips. He looked golden and glowing, bathed in the rays of the setting sun as he daydreamed. A rustle behind him alerted him to someone else’s presence and he sat up quickly, pulling the bow easily to his hand. “Be at peace, cousin,” a deep voice said from the bushes. Eros relaxed as the forest god Pan stepped from the woods, his goat’s feet moving almost daintily as he approached. “Cousin,” Eros greeted him, an impish smile curving his lips. “I haven’t seen you in some time,” Pan said, eying the bow warily. He’d fallen prey to Eros’ penchant for tricks too many times in the past to fully trust the young god now. “I’ve been very busy,” Eros replied.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 42 -

“Planting the seeds of love in mortals, eh?” Pan settled onto his haunches, pulling a wineskin open and taking a deep swig. He offered the skin to Eros, who declined with a shake of the head. “You could say that.” This time, the smile was more reminiscent than mischievous, and Pan was instantly alert. “Oho!” he crowed suddenly. “Been stuck by your own arrow, have you?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Eros scoffed, uncomfortably aware that he’d told on himself. Pan leaned closer and said in a confidential manner, “Don’t worry about it, cousin. Rumor has it that you have a tasty little morsel tucked away in a house in the mountains overlooking the sea. There’s nothing wrong with it.” “I never said that there was,” came the light reply. “After all, I’m entitled to some pleasure just like the rest of you.” “Too true, too true,” Pan agreed, drinking more wine. “I’d be willing to bet that your mother wouldn’t look upon it too favorably.” His bright green eyes sparkled with fun. “That’s getting too close to grandmother territory for Aphrodite to approve of it, isn’t it?” Eros winced inwardly. He looked at Pan speculatively for a moment. His cousin was a friend to him, or at least as much a friend as any of the immortals were, but he, too, had a reputation for stirring up trouble for the fun of it. Eros’ eyes narrowed and he let a tiny, cold smile creep onto his face. “If I were you, cousin,” he said conversationally, “I’d be extra careful not to be talking too much about my private life. I’d hate for you to fall in love with a slug or a blade of grass.” It was Pan’s turn to cringe. “Or maybe a sea urchin,” Eros suggested pleasantly. “I’m sure that would provide you with many new challenges to overcome.” “You wouldn’t dare.” “Try me.”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 43 -

The two gods confronted each other for a moment in total silence. Finally, Pan said, “You know I wouldn’t try to cause trouble between you and your mother, Eros.” There was the faintest emphasis on the word try. Eros replied equitably, “And you know I wouldn’t try to make you want to stick your over-eager dick into a cactus, but accidents do happen.” “You’re a cruel man,” Pan said mournfully. “So long as we understand each other,” Eros said with a grin. Pan laughed. “Oh, we understand each other perfectly. We always have.” “True.” The two gods sat in companionable silence for a moment, while Apollo’s chariot rolled inexorably toward the distant hills in a blaze of crimson and orange glory. At length, Pan rose to his feet. “I’ll let you get on with it, then,” he said. His expression changed subtly, deepening into serious lines. “Just a warning for you, cousin: your secret is not as wellkept as you would like. It’s only a matter of time before your mother finds out, so I’d plan for that if I were you.” Before Eros could reply, the forest god melted back into the trees. The young god sat for a few minutes longer, frowning thoughtfully after him.

*** Aphrodite was having a glass of wine with Hera, the queen of the gods, on the terrace outside her home on Olympus. She didn’t really care for Hera and vice versa, most of their enmity stemming from the infamous wedding feast when the golden apple inscribed “To The Fairest” had created such a controversy among the immortals. It was always advisable, however, to keep up the appearance of good relations with Hera. You never knew when her backing might be important. “I simply adore that new necklace,” Hera cooed, gesturing at the intricate filigreed chain hung with pearls around Aphrodite’s slender throat. “Hephaestus treats you so well.”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 44 -

Hephaestus was Aphrodite’s husband and Hera’s son. Aphrodite restrained the overwhelming urge to grimace at the queen’s words and simply replied, “Oh yes, it is lovely.” Hera sipped her wine, patting her own heavy necklace with a hand overwhelmed with jewels. Her companion thought waspishly that any goddess who felt the need to embellish her person that much was probably insecure in the presence of the goddess of love and beauty. She smiled a sweet smile of malicious enjoyment. Hera’s eyes hardened like agates. “Of course, a mother is always closest to her sons,” the queen continued. “You only have the one, but I’m sure Eros keeps no secrets from you.” “He never has,” Aphrodite replied. “I’m sure he doesn’t feel the need to do so.” Hera’s eyes widened theatrically. “How wonderful that you have such an open relationship. I’m sure that it must have been a surprise to you to discover he intended to marry.” Aphrodite suddenly sat bolt upright. “Marry?” Hera smiled. “Well, of course you knew that he had a wife! After all, it isn’t every day that a god marries a mortal.” Aphrodite kept the blood of rage from her face only through the greatest measure of willpower that the goddess had ever expended. “That’s true,” she replied easily. “But Eros is such a dear, sweet young man that I can’t deny him any whim. I’m sure that you of all immortals understand a mother’s need to please her children.” This shot hit home, as Hera’s youngest daughter had willfully and disobediently married Heracles only a short time before. Hera particularly despised the man, as he was one of Zeus’ innumerable bastards. She controlled her reactions masterfully as she rose to her feet. “Very true, my dear,” the queen said, settling her gauzy robes around her with an irritable flick of her hand. “Of course, that’s nothing to the great joy one receives from dandling your first grandchild upon your knee! I can only pray, dearest, that you experience that blessing very soon.”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 45 -

***

Eros drifted into his house on silent wings, gliding unseen through the twilight. He usually stayed invisible for a while after he returned, gaining much pleasure from watching his lovely young wife without her knowledge. After tucking his bow and quiver into a corner, he made his way into the great bedroom where Psyche waited for his return. Much to his surprise, she was still in her bath. Her long, red-gold hair was pinned loosely atop her head as she soaked in the steaming water, a distant look upon her face. Eros frowned. Since she’d been in his house, that look had vanished from her eyes. She was always cheerful, excited, anticipating his return with a selfless joy that warmed him. He called one of the servants to him, speaking directly into its mind. What is the matter with her?

She heard her sisters weeping today, master; now I think she grieves for them.

Grieves for those monstrous trolls? Why?

The servant gave its equivalent of a shrug. She is a mortal, master. There is much we

do not understand about them. Eros considered the matter. It wouldn’t do for Psyche to be so doleful. After all, he was responsible for her happiness and had promised her nothing but joy while under his care. He watched her for a moment, eying her full breasts and ivory skin with a tug of longing. Then he smiled.

Pleasure her.

My lord? The servant seemed startled.

Pleasure her while I watch, Eros commanded. The servant left to obey his master,

who made his way silently to a chair near the bed.

*** Psyche climbed the steps from the bathing pool, her thoughts miles away with her sisters weeping on the mountaintop. A tinge of regret clouded her mind for the first time since coming to this enchanted place, where she had everything a girl could wish

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 46 -

for save for the sight of another face. She reached for a drying cloth only to be stopped by one of the voices saying, “Allow us, mistress. You are tense and upset. We will see to your needs.” With that, the towels rose around her, rubbing against her skin until she was flushed and warm. Psyche stood dreamily under their ministrations, enjoying the sensation of being catered to, when something completely unexpected happened. Lips brushed the curve of her throat and shoulder. She looked around wildly, half-expecting the lights to go out and for her husband to be there, but there was nothing. Suddenly, more kisses erupted along her body, tingling down her neck and arms, brushing against the flat planes of her abdomen and the curve of her back. “What are you doing?” she demanded anxiously. No one answered. Instead the kisses grew more intense, pressing with an otherworldly heat against her skin. There seemed to be scores of mouths racing along her body, ducking into the sensitive areas behind her knees and sucking lightly on her fingertips. In vain, she tried to free herself from the assault, running her hands along her flesh to push the invisible mouths away, but her hands passed through nothing and the caresses continued. Now there were light touches as well, as if hands were stroking her body, and despite herself she felt the beginnings of arousal in her body. “Please, stop!” she begged, her breath caught in her throat. “My husband will be angry if I betray him so easily.” Again, there was no response. Instead she found herself lifted from her feet, borne in invisible hands to the bed. As she was lowered onto the mattress, unseen hands circled her wrists and pulled them above her head. Another pair captured her ankles, pulling her legs wide apart. She struggled against the restraining grasp, but was unable to free herself. The invisible hands were like iron bands, chaining her to the bed, and while she strained against her captors the arousal of her treacherous body escalated. The mouths fell upon her hungrily, sucking greedily at her nipples, licking her belly and thighs, nibbling up the insides of her calves and the tender skin of her

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 47 -

arms. Tongues swirled around her ears, hot moistness stirring the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. Hands kneaded her breasts, tickled her sides, and threaded through her hair. Not one unseen mouth landed on her face, and her lips throbbed with the unfulfilled desire to be kissed. Psyche moaned, thrashing helplessly against the hands that held her down and spread open to the night air. It was maddening. When the first rasp of invisible teeth scraped along her collarbone she screamed in frustrated longing. Mouths dragged hot, moist trails down her thighs and across her lower abdomen, completely ignoring the throbbing of her sex which ached for attention. Fingernails from unknown hands dug lightly into her skin, leaving a hot hunger in their wake. She was lost, drowning in pleasure and shame and sexual ecstasy until a familiar voice broke through her shattered mind. “More,” Eros said, shrouded by invisibility as he moved to sit at the foot of the bed. He stared greedily at his writhing wife, her femininity exposed for his pleasure. “Make my wife beg for me to come to her.” Psyche registered this statement with a shock. She tried to lift her head, to speak some protest, but the stimulation redoubled. It felt as if even more mouths were sliding over her superheated skin. Her legs were quivering with reaction as a pair of wet lips ran greedily up the insides of her thighs.

*** Eros was silent as he watched his wife gasp and shudder before him. He stared at her sex, already slick and wet from arousal, at the jutting mounds of her breasts with their erect nipples. The servants were invisible even to his immortal eyes, so nothing impeded his view of her uninhibited pleasure. His erection throbbed painfully. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself within her, to sate this crazed longing he felt for her until they were both unconscious. He was pleased that her first thought had been fear of betraying him. Now that she knew he was responsible for this interlude, she would surrender that last scruple and enjoy it whole-heartedly. Much as he meant to do.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 48 -

He found himself licking his lips in anticipation. He murmured seductively, “Are you pleased with my gift, love?” Psyche’s only response was a moan, her head thrashing from side to side. He laughed. “I see that you are pleased. I’m glad. One so beautiful should not allow herself to be so sad. Do not fear; I will join you eventually and we’ll pleasure each other until dawn if you like. For right now I’m enjoying my gift to myself.” He chuckled and it sounded more like a growl than a laugh. “I’m going to watch you come, Psyche.”

*** Psyche felt the blood rush to her face at his words. She was about to plead with him not to do any such thing when one of the mouths on her thighs suddenly swept upwards. Without preamble, it fastened upon her sex, a long, wet tongue snaking into her core. She arched her back and cried out, responding instinctively to the sexual rhythm of the member stroking her insides. As if in response, the other mouths and hands became more aggressive, nipping and sucking at her flesh until she was sobbing with helpless pleasure. Then a second pair of lips moved down her abdomen to join the first. This mouth settled around her clitoris, brushing the hair aside as if there were hands attached to do the job. A tongue flicked out briefly against the throbbing nodule, once, twice, and then began a quick agitation from side to side. Psyche screamed. The sensations were overwhelming. Her neck was savaged by deep, aggressive kisses; her breasts were toyed with and teased, teeth rolling the nipples until she couldn’t think; hot breath rolled in her ears, hands caressed her skin, and every inch of her was tasted and touched. The dual assault on her vagina was bringing her quickly to a peak, a peak of such violence and explosive sexuality that she feared it. She could not escape. The hands that laid her open to Eros’ eyes were unyielding. She felt his eyes upon her twisting body, his glance scorching her spread

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 49 -

thighs as her pussy was teased and excited until it was dripping with the juices of her desire. The tongue on her clitoris increased its tempo, as did the one inside her. Both of them danced over her, lapping up the moisture and driving her mad. Then the mouth clamped down on her clit, drawing it inside and sucking on it gently. She screamed again, bucking wildly from the bed as she was rolled between the invisible teeth. The pressure built within her swiftly, exploding from her in an orgasm so violent that lights sparkled before her eyes. The mouths suddenly stopped. She lay sobbing with reaction, still pinioned by the unseen hands, and felt strong, warm muscles on the inside of her thighs. She opened her eyes. There was nothing there. “This time I want to make love to you in the light, beloved.” Eros’ voice came from above her, and she knew that it was he who now knelt between her spread-eagled legs. “You may not see me, but I can certainly see you.” A hand moved lightly up to her hip. “Your beauty,” he murmured. “Your spirit. Your fire. These things are not quite hidden to me, but I have yet to see them in the light.” A mouth suddenly pressed against hers, forcing it open and kissing her deeply. Her tongue moved with his, twining about it with all of the passion she possessed. “Only I will ever kiss these sweet lips,” he whispered. He pulled away, his hands moving up her body to fondle her breasts. The caresses roused her desire once more, a fire burning slowly in her insides as he teased her nipples and squeezed her aching breasts. “You are my wife,” he said, almost as if to himself. “You are my love. It is only fitting that I give you as much pleasure at my command. Tell me, beloved, what do you want?” “You,” she breathed, moving restlessly under his touch.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 50 -

“You shall have me,” he promised. She heard the smile in his voice as he finished, “Eventually.” The mouths fell upon her again. This time it was different. This time, the unseen solidity of his muscled thighs inside her own stoked the fires within her. She couldn’t tell which kisses were his, save for those occasions when he kissed her mouth. Then there was so much passion, so much heat in the lips that moved against hers that she knew it was him. The hands that moved upon her with such strong surety were surely his, pressing forcefully into her skin and gripping her hips with fingers that trembled even as they demanded. Psyche felt him settle between her legs as he left one last, lingering kiss on her lips. The head of his phallus nudged into her compliant flesh, slamming into her with a pent-up fever that left her gasping for breath. As he began to move with long, powerful strokes, an invisible mouth fastened upon her clitoris again, the tongue manipulating her agitated flesh with circular motions that drove her wild. She lifted her hips against his, moving with the lover whose rigid penis brought her such pleasure. She cried out as the combined stimulation of her sex brought her to another ripping orgasm, wept as both continued, increasing their tempo simultaneously. The invisible lips disappeared abruptly. Eros stretched over her, pumping furiously as he ravaged her mouth with a passionate kiss. As their tongues mated wildly together, the restraints on her wrists and ankles departed as well. She threw her arms around his neck, clamped her legs around his waist as he lifted her hips from the bed and drove into her with a mounting urgency that shook them both. Psyche gasped and arched backwards, throwing her head against the pillows in a frenzy of rapture. Eros groaned, his cock moving swiftly within her as his own orgasm neared. His entire body went rigid as they came together, the muscles of her cunt spasmodically milking his penis for every last drop of his seed. Eros collapsed against his wife, stunned by the ferocity of their mating. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, curving around his shoulder and falling onto hers.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 51 -

Psyche loosened her legs, letting them fall back to the mattress. As she did so, she wondered fleetingly why she’d thought she felt feathers brushing against her skin.

*** The morning star was burning brightly in the night sky, which was already pearling to light gray against the dark silhouette of the mountains. Psyche lay pillowed on her husband’s chest, weary but elated at the continued consummation of their love. She was happy with him, beyond anything she’d ever expected. He brought out a wild abandon in her that her previous life had repressed. If only she could see his face, just once. Psyche sighed. Eros, instantly alerted to her change of mood, stroked her hair lightly. “What is it, beloved?” “I am sad, my husband,” she confessed. “I don’t see how you have the energy to be sad,” he pointed out dryly. “I heard my sisters weeping for me today and it reminded me of home.” The hand stilled on her hair. “Don’t you have everything you require here? If there is something else you wish you have only to ask.” “Can I see my sisters?” she asked. “It would comfort them and bring solace to my parents.” “Your sisters do not require comfort,” Eros replied, a tinge of displeasure in his voice. “If that is true then why do they weep?” she challenged, sitting up. “Besides, I haven’t seen another face since I’ve been here. I’m lonely while you’re away.” “Psyche, such a visit will do nothing but harm,” he warned her. “It is best for you that you remain here, in anonymous safety, without the company of those sisters who have never been anything other than jealous of you.” “You did say that I could ask for anything,” she reminded him. “I have abided by your wishes so far, Eros. Can you not grant one of mine?” The god sighed. He pulled her back to his chest, ignoring the frantic yipping of the puppy on the terrace. “If nothing else will please you, my wife, then I will arrange it

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 52 -

to be so. I must warn you to be wary of what they say. They wish you ill and always have. They will try to rouse discontent within you.” “They couldn’t,” Psyche replied confidently. “I have never been as happy as I have been here with you, my husband.”

*** The goddess Aphrodite straightened from the bush she’d crouched behind for several hours. Her lovely lips were compressed into a thin line, which gave her face a pinched, unlovely appearance. She aimed a kick at the furiously barking dog and moved silently away from the house. She’d watched her son and his wife throughout the long night. It was true: not only had Eros disobeyed her completely, but he’d gone and married the wench instead! No thought of her son’s obvious happiness intruded upon her selfish anger; instead, she focused all of her wrath upon the elevation of this usurper, this pretender, to the laurels that her godhood bestowed. So! Psyche thought she was safe from the wrath of the goddess of love and beauty, did she? Aphrodite smiled suddenly, her eyes narrowed to mere slits. She would show this upstart what a goddess’ revenge was truly like. The place to start was with her sisters. The terrier’s yips of outrage dwindled as the goddess fled into the dawn, making her plans with malicious relish.

Chapter Six The next morning, the wailing began again. Psyche heard it from the terrace, where she threw a ball for the excited puppy to fetch. A warm wind began to blow, tugging at her hair and her gown until a few minutes later when the wailing abruptly stopped. She wondered what was happening, if her husband would keep his word to let her sisters visit, as Apollo frolicked around her feet joyously. She didn’t have long to wait. A half-hour later, she noticed something moving over the mountains. The spot became larger as it drew near, until finally the wind set the sleeping forms of her sisters gently upon the fragrant grass. Psyche hugged herself in triumph. He had done it! They were really here, awakening slowly and peering around with amazed eyes as she ran lightly across the meadow. “Clyte! Myrne!” she called. Her sisters turned disbelieving eyes upon her and struggled to their feet. “Psyche!” Myrne gasped. Her little eyes took in the richness of her sister’s gown, the extravagant jeweled chain around her slender neck, and a wide, insincere smile stretched her lips. “We’ve been so worried about you, and look at you! You’re positively blooming!” “I’m so happy!” Psyche babbled, throwing her arms first around Clyte, who seemed stunned into silence, then around Myrne who returned the embrace stiffly. “Everything is wonderful, especially now that you’re here.” “Where exactly are we?” Clyte demanded sourly, looking at the lovely house with an envious eye. “My husband’s home. Come inside; I have so much to tell you.” Linking her arms with her sisters, she took them into the house. Within minutes they were sitting down to an opulent tea, Psyche asking excited questions about their

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 54 -

parents and their home and receiving desultory answers in return. After a while, the conversation lagged. Clyte was too busy estimating the value of the various pieces scattered about the room to talk, while Myrne was watching her sister with a decidedly unpleasant look upon her face. “So tell us,” Myrne began, casting her eyes upon her plate so that Psyche couldn’t see the speculation in them. “Where is your husband anyway?” “Oh, he’s away on business right now,” Psyche said quickly. “He travels a great deal.” “What’s he like? Is he young or old? Handsome? I can see that he’s wealthy.” “He’s young, only a little older than me,” her sister replied. “He’s very handsome too.” “What does he look like?” Clyte demanded, joining in the interrogation. A flash of a man’s face crossed Psyche’s mind and she answered, “He’s tall, and fair, with beautiful blue eyes and a gorgeous body.” That much, at least, I know is true, she thought desperately. He does have a gorgeous body. “What’s his name?” Psyche giggled, although she was starting to feel uncomfortable. “I call him Eros, because to me he is the god of love.” Myrne wasn’t a stupid woman. She realized that the inaccessibility of the house, the use of the wind as transportation, the invisible servants and the obvious wealth displayed so carelessly were all indications that her sister had, indeed, snared the love of an immortal. Jealousy welled within her, curdling in her gut. She thought for a moment, and then lowered her voice to say confidentially, “You haven’t seen his face, have you?” For a moment Psyche stared at her in shock. Myrne’s face was sympathetic, her hand extended to her sister as if for comfort. Psyche floundered for a moment, and then dropped her eyes. “No, I haven’t.”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 55 -

Myrne and Clyte exchanged a triumphant look. “We have,” Clyte told her. “That’s why we wept for you. We were mourning you on the mountaintop, and this horrible creature suddenly appeared before us. He had the body of a man, but his skin was green and he had a sea monster’s face and long, black wings. He screamed at us to go away and leave you to your fate, that you were now his and all of our weeping could not restore you to us.” “It was horrifying,” Myrne agreed with a shudder. “That’s why we’ve been so afraid for you.” Psyche was completely still. She remembered the brush of feathers along her legs, her unknown husband’s insistence upon the dark, and his conviction that her sisters would try to destroy their happiness. A small sliver of doubt entered her soul. “He is very kind to me,” she said quietly. “Of course he is! How else would he convince you to ignore what he is?” Clyte snorted. “True,” Myrne agreed. “If he is not a monster in truth, why will he not allow you to see his face?” “He says it isn’t safe for me.” “Nor is it. If you accidentally saw him in the light he’d probably fall upon you and eat you,” Clyte said. “I don’t think he’d do that,” Psyche protested. “Are you certain?” Silence descended on the room. Psyche twisted her napkin in her hands in agitation. A sudden thought came to Myrne, so brilliant in its simplicity that her face lit up. “Of course, he wouldn’t have to know,” she whispered. Psyche looked up. “What do you mean?” “Hide a lamp and a knife near the bed,” Myrne instructed her. “Tonight, after he falls asleep, light the lamp and look at him. If he is young and handsome as you say he is, then blow out the lamp and no harm done. However, if he is the monster, use the knife and kill him. Then you can come back home to us.”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 56 -

“I couldn’t do that,” Psyche protested. “I promised.” “It’s better to break a promise than to remain ignorant of what comes to you in the night,” Clyte pointed out. Psyche rose from her chair. “I’ll have you taken back now,” she said quietly. “I will think on what you have said.” “If I were you, I’d send some of this stuff back with us,” Myrne suggested. “Your virginity is gone now, and you’ll need a rich dower if you’re ever to be wed to a normal man.” Silently, Psyche heaped jewels and gold into her sisters’ arms. She escorted them back to the meadow and lifted a forlorn hand in farewell as the west wind lifted them from the ground once more. Behind her, Aphrodite smiled. Her will had infused the sisters with her insidious suggestions and Psyche with doubts and fear. She turned to the servants, who’d answered her summons earlier, and said shortly, “I forbid you to inform my son of any of this. If you disobey me, I will see that you are trapped in Hades for all eternity.” The servants murmured their acquiescence. Aphrodite laughed silently as her distraught daughter-in-law returned dejectedly to her rooms.

*** Eros returned late that evening, weary from a day that encompassed more of his mother’s demands than usual. She’d sent him on several additional errands, including one involving the goddess Artemis that involved a young hunter being ripped to pieces by his own dogs. He extinguished the lights as usual upon entering the bedchamber, then halted dead in his tracks. His wife lay waiting for him on the bed, clad in a nearly transparent gown. She smiled at his inhalation of breath and extended her arms. “You’re late.” “Long day,” he replied, eying her hungrily. “Is this meant to be a treat for me? It certainly seems like one.” “You could say that,” she admitted. “It’s more in the nature of an apology, actually.”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 57 -

“For what?” “For not trusting your judgment,” Psyche replied with a sigh. “You were right; my sisters only wanted to cause trouble. As soon as I determined that, I gave them presents and sent them home.” Eros was impressed. His young wife had shown more resilience than he’d expected. He crossed to the bed, sitting next to her and taking her into his arms. “There is no need to apologize to me,” he said soothingly. “It is only natural to expect the best from your family.” “I knew better,” she muttered resentfully. “I was very foolish. Please forgive me.” “There is nothing to forgive.” Eros kissed her soundly, enjoying the feel of her lips yielding beneath his own. The kiss deepened, her fingers curling through his hair and her breasts pressing hungrily against his chest. He pulled away slightly, amused at this new assertiveness on her part. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Love me.” Her lips traveled down the strong muscles of his neck, lingering in the indentation between his collarbones. She reached for his hands, pressing them to her breasts. He felt her nipples hardening under the sheer fabric even as her mouth moved to his chest. She untied the lacing at his chest, exposing the skin. Boldly, she took his nipple into her mouth, sucking on it greedily while her hands moved down his sides. He closed his eyes, letting desire wash over him as she tightened her slender fingers around his hardening cock. “Better be careful,” he warned her. “Keep that up and I might forget myself.” “I want you to,” she breathed, releasing his nipple and blowing on it lightly. “I want you to lose control tonight, my husband.” Her hands worked their wicked way under his tunic, stroking lightly along his thighs. She scraped her fingernails against his balls and Eros growled low in his throat. “If you want me to lose control, you’re going about it the right way.”

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 58 -

“I’ve learned from an expert in love,” she replied, nibbling at his chest. “Anything I do, you have taught me.” Moisture beaded on the head of his shaft. She touched it fearlessly, working it around his penis until it was slick and throbbing at the tip. He moaned, his hands caressing her breasts as she squeezed his cock lightly. Her mouth returned to his and he kissed her passionately. His hands moved to the straps of her gown, sliding them from her shoulders until her bare breasts brushed against his bare skin. Eros pulled away, tearing his tunic over his head in a single impatient movement. She followed suit, discarding the gown in a flutter of gauzy fabric to the floor, and returned eagerly to his arms. The god bore her down to the bed, his mouth finding hers once more. Her hands swept over his bare skin, gripping his buttocks tightly while his tongue plundered her mouth. He worked his hand between them, finding her already slick with desire as he caressed her sex. Psyche moaned, giving into the intimate caress even as her hands returned to stroke his cock. Eros’ mind exploded. Passion raged through him so violently that he shuddered with the intensity of it. He pulled her hands away, pinning them to the bed, and lowered himself to taste her. His mouth fell upon her pussy, licking and sucking frantically, his tongue working her clitoris to agonizing pleasure while she squirmed in crazed delight beneath him. He dipped his tongue deep within her, and then moved back up to nuzzle the tight little nodule until she screamed. “Please, come inside me now!” she begged. He ignored her, continuing his assault upon her pussy relentlessly. The fervor swelled within him, hardening his cock to the point of pain. Eros ignored it, intent upon driving his wife to the brink of her passions before giving into the primitive urge for release that was throbbing within his body. Her fingers clutched at the bedclothes. He released her hands, transferring his own to her breasts. He rolled her nipples between forefinger and thumb, reveling in the little cries of pleasure she emitted as she writhed upon the bed.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 59 -

Her fingers buried themselves in his hair, holding him to her with a strength that delighted him. He brought one hand lower, insinuating it between her trembling legs, and inserted a single finger within her. “Oh, gods!” she gasped. “It isn’t enough! I need more! Please!” The breathless exhortation drove him past the point of control. He reared above her and plunged into her compliant body. Instantly, the insanity of sexual frenzy overtook him. Heedless of her slender body, the god slammed into her with all of his strength and desire guiding him. She sobbed, unable to move with his ferocious pace as he drove into her again and again, his speed increasing as the pleasure grew. He shouted in rapture as his orgasm burst from his cock, met with an answering explosion from Psyche’s shuddering body. She went suddenly limp, and as the young god collapsed against her he realized that she’d fainted. A few minutes later, she swam back to consciousness. Eros held her lightly in his arms, kissing her face and throat and breast in wonder, soothing her way back to awareness. Psyche lay quietly against his chest, one cheek pillowed on her hand. “I love you,” Eros said quietly, as weariness began to overtake his immortal limbs. “I never thought it possible for me to fall in love, but from the first time I saw you I knew you were destined to be mine.” “I love you too,” Psyche replied softly, stroking his cheek with a loving hand. She remained that way until his limbs loosened and his regular breathing informed her that he had fallen asleep.

*** Psyche stood uncertainly near the windows. A colder breeze was blowing in from the mountains, stirring the curtains to agitated motion. She wrapped a thin robe around herself and stood staring thoughtfully at the stars. She knew that Myrne and Clyte were trying to create doubt about her situation. She knew that their concern was actually a reflection of anger and jealousy. She knew that they’d lied to her. It didn’t matter. She still had to know.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 60 -

She glanced at the alcove where her husband lay sleeping. It was shrouded in darkness as usual, the heavy bed curtains drawn to protect his unseen visage. Moving quietly, she made her way to the side of the bed. She knelt and removed the tiny lamp she’d hidden there earlier. Unseen by Eros as he entered the room, its flame still flickered. Psyche held the lamp high and pulled the curtains aside. The god lay on his side, one hand flung over his head and a smile curving his lips. She stared at him in amazement. He was beautiful, his gold-kissed skin gleaming in the dim light, his eyes closed with a sweep of sable lashes against his cheek, his golden hair scattered over the pillow. The great wings were furled behind him, extended slightly so that they could drape over the side of the bed. Her eyes roamed over his body, the slender frame and sleek muscles clearly defined by the light of the lamp. He was everything she’d ever hoped for. As she gazed down at him, she realized that not only was this no monster, this was no mortal man. The words of the Delphic oracle returned to her, the fiend that neither god nor man can withstand. He’d told her his true name. This was Eros, son of Aphrodite and the god of love. She was loved by Love himself. Joy filled her heart. It was so overwhelming that tears rose to her eyes. She leaned over to kiss him tenderly on the cheek. The lamp trembled in her hand. As she jerked it away, a wave of the searing oil splashed from the lamp onto Eros’ shoulder. He awakened with a roar of pain. His startled eyes flew upwards and took in Psyche and the lamp with one incredulous glance. Eros rose from the bed. The look on his face struck fear into Psyche for the first time, the divine anger of a god flashing from his sapphire eyes so that she shrank away from him. He curled his lip and said softly, “There is not enough light for you to see by, wife. Let me provide you with more.” The lamps and braziers in the room flared into savage life, illuminating the enraged god with a nimbus that glowed around his nude body. Psyche saw that the

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 61 -

ugly burn on his shoulder was already swelling, an angry red color infusing the welts that rose upon his flesh. Her eyes darted back up to meet his. “You disobeyed me,” he snarled, menace rippling through his voice. “I had to know,” she said in a miserable whisper. “My sisters told me that --” “I told you that they would bring this about!” he shouted. “I don’t know what came over me! It was like I was compelled to look!” “You were sworn not to look. You promised me on our wedding night that you would trust me in this,” Eros retorted coldly. “I know. I’m sorry,” she said hastily. He suddenly seized her arm, pulling her to him with a violence that knocked the lamp to the floor, where it died in a hiss of smoke. “Don’t you realize what you’ve done?” he grated. “Don’t you realize what this means?” “No, I don’t!” she cried, appalled. He threw her away from him with a gesture of contempt. “Love cannot live where there is no trust,” he said, his voice icy. “You have forfeited your claim upon me, Psyche.” “No!” She clutched at his arm, beyond caring of her pride. “You can’t mean that!” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her, hard. She stared up at him mutely, tears rolling down her face. He swore so viciously that she paled, and then kissed her with a hard, brutal kiss. As he dragged his mouth from hers, he whispered, “Oh, but I do mean it, beloved.” Eros disappeared, melting from her hands as if he’d never been there. Psyche looked around, desperately hoping to find him, but the god had vanished.

*** Aphrodite laughed in delight. Her plan had worked beautifully; Eros was freed from this mortal’s clutches and now the girl wept wildly while she searched for her husband in vain. The goddess smirked, satisfied at last. With a flash of her spangled veil, she disappeared as well, preparing to console her son on his wife’s perfidy.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 62 -

Pan stepped out of his concealment, shaking his head. It was only too obvious that Aphrodite had manipulated this situation in order to rid Eros of the mortal girl. Knowing the goddess as he did, which was basically every way possible, he also knew that she would pour on the sympathy and the coddling for some time, in an attempt to chain her son even more firmly to her will. Pan didn’t have much of a conscience, but he had a genuine fondness for his young cousin and a dislike for the wiles of manipulative women, particularly goddesses who could force mortals to do their will. He’d find a way to let Eros know the truth of the situation, and the quicker the better. This mortal girl weeping tempestuously upon her deserted wedding bed seemed entirely too fragile to survive on her own.

*** Psyche’s tears ebbed at last. She glanced around her bridal chamber with eyes that were dulled from pain and guilt. She’d made a terrible mistake, a fatal mistake. She’d allowed the poison of her sisters to influence her mind to the degree that her husband had left her. What would she do now? Would the wind carry her back to her father’s city, where she’d be despised as a whore and deserted wife? Would she remain here until she faded into nothingness, like other ill-fated mortals who fell in love with gods? “Mistress.” She lifted her head hurriedly. “Yes? Is the master home?” “No, mistress,” the disembodied voice replied. “There is something I think you should know.” “What is it?” “You were compelled to look. The goddess Aphrodite watched you from the garden, and forced you to do her bidding. She also controlled the encounter between you and your sisters. Although their wish to do you ill was there before the goddess directed them, the inspirations were hers.” Psyche was suddenly furious. “Why didn’t you warn us?” she demanded.

Isabelle Spurrier

Mythos: Goddess’ Revenge

- 63 -

“The goddess commanded us not to interfere or to warn the master in any way,” the voice explained. There was a note of satisfaction as it added, “She neglected, however, to forbid us to tell you after the deed was done. You are a good and kind mistress and have made the young god very happy until this night. We do not wish for you to suffer overlong as a result of her interference.” Psyche considered this extraordinary statement while her anger seethed within her. “Very well,” she said finally. “I understand. He told me that Love could not live where there was no trust. Fair enough. I’ll just have to find him and make him trust me again. Surely the fact that his mother stage-managed the whole affair should have some effect upon him.” Her decision made, Psyche’s mind cleared. As soon as it was light, she’d leave to find her husband and bring him back. Before that happened, she would have to deal with her treacherous mother-inlaw. Once, she had quailed at the thought of being in competition with Aphrodite. She’d never laid claim to the goddess’ honors, but had been punished just the same. Now, she relished the idea. She would compete with the goddess of love and beauty. “But first,” she muttered, “I’ll have to deal with my sisters.”

Mythos: Mortal Retribution The angry goddess Aphrodite has managed to break apart the relationship between her son, Eros, and his mortal wife Psyche. Psyche decides, however, that she has no intention of allowing the goddess to rule her life. She sets out upon a quest designed to bring her husband back to her and teach the goddess a lesson. Will cool intellect subdue mindless passion? Or, will Psyche’s curiosity once again destroy all?

Isabelle Spurrier Isabelle Spurrier lives in the lovely hills of southeastern Ohio. Writing since the age of seven, she won numerous awards for writing, history, and the classics throughout her education which culminated at the University of Tennessee. After college, she did a ten-year stint in professional theatre, then returned to her first love: writing. In addition to the Mythos series, she is currently at work on two mainstream fantasy series and has several short stories published. Isabelle is married, has two teenaged daughters, and way too many cats. You can find out more about Isabelle at her website: www.mythoserotica.bravehost.com