Stolen Goddess 4

“I have forgotten the name of my country,” she said. “In fact, I do not think it even had a name. It was so long ago in my memory that Ancient Rome and Greece are dazzling, new, shiny cultures of such modernity. I don’t believe there was such a thing as countries.”

Joel was tired from the day’s work; exams and apprehension; and finally, the inevitable sprint from campus to Mina’s cave. She worked slowly and deliberately, spreading an unidentifiable powder in a fine line, forming a circle which enclosed them both on the cave’s floor.

“My people’s days consisted of doing the things which were most vitally anchored to our spirits. We grew grain, we tended our livestock, we prayed to gods who walked amongst us, who saw us and who let us see them, who supped with us; and we did not find this strange, for the gods were as real to us as the trees which silently endure their lives in the forest.

“It was, of course, in the place that people of your age call ‘Europe’ where I grew up. I cannot say exactly where, for to us, the little valley where we dwelt was the entire universe. Men who came and went over the mountains were god-like and were traveling off the edge of the earth into the Unknown.”

Mina undressed. And gestured with her eyes to Joel, which he understood as a command to undress as well. She knelt near him. As if introducing him to her tale, she briefly, roughly kissed him. He dared to grasp her wrist.

“Touch me,” he commanded.

Obediently she reached down, tugged at him gently and brought him to his hardest.

“Your penis,” she whispered, pushing her tongue into his mouth briefly, “is sacred to me.”

He almost laughed. But she, easing herself down onto her back, and pulling his hips toward her, was in all seriousness.

“Then you must worship my cock in every way you can,” he said.

She closed her eyes, laughing delightedly, urging him inside her. He entered her.

“In the days of my youth, our people would carve phalluses out of wood, or fashion them out of stone. It was a sacred ritual to be deflowered. A man’s penis was held in high regard. Nothing could be so pleasing.”

She guided his hips with her hands, ushering him into the rhythm that most pleased her. She preferred a slow tempo, then when the tingling begun, she wrapped her legs around his hips and quickened the pace, until they both came.

She was delighted, happier than she had ever looked since he first met her. Something about the way she relaxed underneath him after her orgasm subsided told him that this moment was different from any other.

“Your seed,” She said, and pointed to the powdery white circle she had made earlier. “Mixed with other various ingredients. I have blocked his eye from us. He cannot see us this time. My thoughts are not so laden, and I wish to tell you my story, and to love you more freely than I am comfortable doing when his constant gaze is upon me.”

She pushed his hips away, his cock slipping from her tight hole, then turned over onto her hands and knees. “Fuck me again, the way I like to be fucked.” And with fervor that surprised even himself, he once again brought them both to the point of ecstasy, in that position that was so bestial and thus so much more primitively satisfying.

Mina was much more expressive in her sex like this, now that the gaze of her husband was not upon them. The subtle throbbing of her pussy, the way it seemed to suck at his penis, well–she was hungry for his cock, and it gave him much pleasure to know that she genuinely wanted to fuck him, that she wasn’t doing it just to enlist his aid, because she knew she had his help, no matter what.

She could lock herself up in a chastity belt and throw away the key, and she’d still have his help.

He reclined on his back on the cold stone floor of the cave, Mina’s magic keeping the chilly autumn air away from him. He panted, numb from exertion, and smiled when he felt Mina’s mouth enveloping his cock. She licked off their mingling juices as he dozed off and his penis softened.

Thus was her story, come to him in a dream:

Mina, gathering flowers as a young adolescent girl. This was her favorite flower: a burgundy blossom with five pointed petals that formed a star. It smelled like lilies and jasmine, an intoxicating scent that kept her in the fields of flower all day.

She returned home one evening, and she saw a man supping with her parents. She knew he was one of the gods, for he was far more beautiful than any human she had seen: glossy black shoulder-length curls, a lithe, muscular figure, eyes blue and transparent like the sky, pale skin, a smile that told her he knew everything about everyone. He wore finely-embroidered black robes of a shiny material she had never imagined existed; as if he had somehow figured out a way for obsidian to be pliant in one’s hand.

Mina’s father referred to this god as his “Atayo” and slaughtered for dinner their very best lamb. The Atayo was the one whom a priest chooses to worship primarily, and who then gives the priest strength. Her mother, however, did not seem too pleased with his presence.

Many things were discussed, business amongst adults that children sometimes hear but rarely comprehend. What she came away with that night was this: that he would be her husband when she came of age.

She could not understand the concept of a mortal being married to a god. She didn’t know anyone who was married to a god. “It happens so infrequently,” her father explained, “because the gods only pick one spouse for all of eternity. And even then, they rarely choose a mortal.”

Mina was not yet fully cognizant of the things occuring around her. All things were hazy. She remembered the few instances that her future husband stepped into the field of flowers to smile at her, never touching her, just lingering close by, one day explaining that she was the one who made these flowers grow; nowhere else on Earth did they grow. They were the product of her own mind, a gift he had given her at birth, because he knew he would take her as a mate.

On her twenty-first birthday her father and mother had an argument. She could not glean its subject matter. All she knew was that she was to be dressed in fine, blood-red gauzy robes, and taken into the field of flowers. Her mother protested.

Mina was led there ceremoniously by her wild-eyed father. He seemed quite pleased about something.

There, under the full moon, dressed in those beautiful, shiny robes, was her father’s Atayo. She was made to kneel in front of him.

“I am the god known as Hataies,” he declared.

Mina’s stomach turned, and she fell back onto her rump. “The Lord of the Underworld!” she gasped. In a moment that all at once became the birth of her mind, she had a moment of unbelievable and painful clarity: the billions of living creatures who died and were then brought under his rule.

Hataies held out his hand. Shivering, she grasped it, and he lifted her with little effort into his arms.

A stone altar had been set up in the middle of the field. Hataies placed her body over it. She felt the world turn upside down, and she cried out for her father.

Hataies laughed. “Your father has sealed his allegiance to me. He is now the most powerful priest in all of Earth, for he has gifted to me the thing which I desire most. He will not stay around to watch us in our wedded bliss; he has already rushed home to commence his work for me.”

She whimpered, feeling his cold hands gracefully sliding up her thighs, her robes being lifted up over her hips.

All at once fear and desire stabbed at her.

He held his arms up to the moon, threw his head back, closed his eyes. “I ask thee, ye fellow gods, to grant to me your blessing, for I have chosen my mate, and she is my match. Bless this consumation which we shall perform before thine eyes, so that the Universe may witness the sacredness and permanence of our union!”

He produced something long and narrow from his robes. Her eyes widened. She recognized it as a phallus, the same kind that her fellow villagers had used in fertility rituals. But this one: it was more beautiful than any other phallus she had seen.

“This,” he said, “is carved from a single diamond. It was made just for you.”

He let her hold it in her hands. It was gorgeous; every detail was painstakingly wrought, and unlike the phalluses she had seen, this one had all the fine subtleties of a real penis.

Hataies swept his robes aside. “It is the finer equivalent of my own, which you will have leave to enjoy for eternity,” he said. She glanced at his own sceptre, which stood at full attention. Indeed, the phallus matched his penis right down to the bulging veins.

He took the phallus from her, and widened her legs. Placed the head of it between the lips of her pussy. A tiny shudder, a vague hint of pleasure, stirred there in her pelvis. Then, with little regard to the fact that she was a virgin, he stabbed her with the diamond phallus.

Her back arched. She let out a groan. As he shoved the phallus in and out of her, she writhed, begging him to stop, but in her mind begging him to continue, for she had never felt this aware, this cognizant, in her entire life. She was being born. It seemed a few inklings of her true self were coming to the fore of her brain.

Sexual pleasure had not before been a concept she had ever experienced. But the exquisite, almost buttery feeling he evoked in that tight hole of hers was a thing that she felt, at that moment, she could dedicate the rest of eternity to.

An unfamiliar static began to grow and spread throughout her crotch. Before she reached the peak, Hataies removed the phallus from within her, leaving her with a painful emptiness and longing. He placed it back in his robes, and stepped between her legs. His penis hovered above her, a gorgeous thing to look at; he was large, hairless, his porcelain skin reflecting hints of the blue moonlight. A cool breeze swept lewdly over them. He slid his cock into her, and with two powerful thrusts, made her cum.

She grasped at his hips, in disbelief that such pleasure could even exist. Her legs spread wider and she welcomed every last inch into her.

She, limp, exhausted and numb, endured with pain the lengthy duration of their sex. He throttled her violently, then slowly, releasing his burning seed into her after what seemed to have been hours. Her aching legs were wrapped around him as he leaned over to kiss her for the first time. His stiff cock remained inside of her.

His lips brushed against hers in a surprisingly gentle manner. She wrapped his arms around his neck, felt the shining black hair.

Everything around her became more vivid and haunting; she realized for the first time how the crickets were chirping, oblivious to the divine coupling that had just occured in this field. The perfume of her favorite flower invaded her head. The moon shined with a chilly fervor. The god of the Underworld gazed down at her, crushing her lightly with his weight, emanating a confusing mixture of both warmth and coldness.

She realized with sadness that she was losing the life she had previously had; the psyche she once owned was but a bookmark placed there until her true birth as the goddess of the Underworld.

A simple tree did not have the same meaning for her anymore. She saw the frailty of life around her; that she would be queen of all this once it became the victim of time, and then it would be a ghost, a thing that did not serve a purpose but to exist in the realm of the Dead.

Hataies must have seen this dissatisfaction in her because his eyes grew sad. He slid his still-hard cock out of her.

“You must not lament your fate,” he said, as if to a child. “I have chosen you because even a goddess could not bear this to happen to her. I can hardly bear it myself!”

She could not help but to watch his cock soften, to watch his strong, perfectly veined hands arrange his robes to cover himself. He sat on the grassy turf against the stone altar on which she reclined.

She turned to her side and wove her fingers in his long wavy hair. He leaned back into her touch.

Mina saw her future with a clarity that must have come with her newly-granted status of divinity, and she could not untangle her two fates: that she would come to both love and detest him. Yes, she would be able to endure it, she thought to herself, but just barely.

But that self-assurance could not prepare her for her first glimpse of the Underworld, the kingdom which she was to rule over for all of eternity.

THE END OF CHAPTER 4