OF WAR Anthology Novels 1-3 Page 16

  Scopas grabbed Onya from behind, wrenched an arm up behind her back, pushed her forward to Nicco while he raised the little fur skirt upward, grabbed a ruthless hold of her inner thigh and then yanked upward to raise the leg off the floor as his hard cock twitched between her butt cheeks. Onya pitched forward, little pussy open and waiting, Nicco’s large, throbbing and unforgiving cock impaled her. She cried out at the ruthlessness of his entry. “How’s that, you bitch? Huh? You like that?” Nicco whispered as he thrust forward, deeper into her. Grabbing the raised leg, he wrapped it around his waist before grabbing the other one and doing the same. He leaned back against the rough rock wall, pinning her feet between it and his back. “Come on, tell me how much you like it.”

  Giving up hope of rescue, Onya slumped forward to rest her less than considerable weight against him. “I like it,” she muttered.

  “I knew you would. You’re a tight little one, aren’t you?” The hands grabbing and kneading her hips pushed down, jamming more of him inside that snug hole. “I see why Ares keeps you to himself. But not today. Today, I’ve got something else for you,” Nicco whispered in her ear and then raised his eyes to meet Scopas’ gaze. “Come over here, let’s split this bitch.”

  Licking his lips, Scopas looked down at Kat who was looking on with great malicious curiosity. She’d raised her little fur skirt and was starting to rub off. Stopping to dip his own throbbing cock into Kat’s mouth for a moment, he made his way up behind Onya and rubbed the newly lubed tool between her ass cheeks. He would get back to Kat in a minute, but this first. “I think you’re really going to like this.” Reaching down he pried those already spread cheeks apart and made his entry into her firm ass.

  The woman caught between them let out the faintest cry of pain that was so exquisitely sharp it made both their cocks harden and twitch. As Scopas’ hands slid down her, Nicco brought his hands up from her hips to the sides of her face. Pulling her head away from the nape of his neck and her hair back, he stared into her frightened pain-filled eyes. “Take it, you take it. That’s a good little whore.” That was when the tears finally started to fall; he turned her head around so Scopas could see them.

  “Harder,” Kat commanded breathlessly as she watched the scene growing more excited with each surging thrust. “Fuck her harder. Break her in right.”

  “Whatever you want, mistress,” Nicco returned with a cold smile and the two of them worked her from both ends with all they had.

  2

  Psyche & Artemis

  (As Told by Apollo)

  Ares’ exile started when Psyche took a nosedive from the top of the Tower she shared with Eros to the bottom of Mount Olympus. The question was: Did she jump, or did someone push her?

  Being civilized creatures the Olympians held a trial. Eros claimed to have looked up from the bottom of the mountain only to see his wife falling and his Father, Ares, at the top of tower looking back at him with an angry snarl.

  Apollo gave testimony that only an hour or so before he had inadvertently walked in on Ares with Psyche in the parlor of Eros’ Tower. He could not say for sure if Psyche was enjoying the way Ares was fucking her from behind. To him it looked as though she may not have been, he could only say with certainty that he had walked in on them at a very intimate moment. Ares being Ares, upon seeing his brother he did not bother to stop putting it to his Daughter-in-law but instead kept right on going, asking if Apollo wanted to join him. Apollo said he had declined and warned the two of them to stop whatever they were doing before Eros found out.

  A short while later, Apollo still outside the tower, said he heard yelling and shouting. He recognized the voices as belonging to Ares and Psyche. When Apollo looked up, Psyche was falling. It was his belief that Ares had thrown her from the tower to keep her quiet about what transpired between them.

  Ares did not take this lying down and instead protested his innocence. It was Ares’ assertion that it was Apollo and not he who was being intimate with Psyche that night. Psyche appeared to be greatly enjoying the act as she cooed, gyrated, clawed and drew Apollo closer to her. That it had been he, Ares, who warned the couple to call off their affair. Yes, he followed Psyche up to the bedroom at the very top of the tower once he saw Apollo leave. It was only to talk. Yes, perhaps he was angry and his voice raised, but he did not raise a hand to her, he did not threaten her. Psyche, cowering and shaking, screaming at him nearly incoherently backed away from him until she could back away no more. At that point, she climbed the wall, still facing Ares who was still approaching but by now doing so with the intent to grab her and pull her away from danger. Just as he lunged for her, Psyche jumped. She did it on her own and he did not understand entirely why, but he did not throw her and he did not push her. “I never even touched her.”

  The Great Council Chamber in Zeus’ Palace high atop Mount Olympus fell silent as the Gods around him considered what Ares said. If any other person, Man or God, stood here and told them the same thing, they would not be looking at them with such suspicion and disdain. When the silence became deafening, it was Apollo who broke it with his lyrical voice. “I have her,” Apollo returned with an undertone of victory as he lovingly gestured toward the beauty at his side. “Aphrodite. So what need would I have of Psyche?” Aphrodite stood there with a smug look on her beautiful face; hand on hip purposefully jutted out to one side.

  “You and I both know, Brother,” Ares began arrogantly, “scratch that,” he stroked the beard on his chin while he made a circular motion in the air with the index finger of his other hand. “All of us here…” he looked around and took a quick head count, “yeah, all of us… know…she’s not as good as she looks.”

  “How dare you!” Aphrodite spat in anger; she never was one to suffer insult lightly. “You were never good enough for me.”

  “I think you got that backwards,” Ares lobbed back. “And you, Brother, don’t you ever get tired of castoffs?”

  “Your loss, Brother,” Apollo sneered as he kissed Aphrodite’s cheek.

  Aphrodite looked around at the others trying to gauge their reactions, but they were all stoic. “You know him,” she said in a strong but gentle voice. “We all know what he did to Artemis.” The stoic stares turned into knowing glances.

  It was hardly twenty years before that Artemis suddenly turned up dead and all of Olympus was still reeling from it, now this. Everyone remembered that day. Who could forget the sight of Ares God of War, with Artemis lying limp in his arms, splayed out like Jesus on the cross as he carried her through the snow covered Gates and into Zeus’ Palace? Although Ares appeared deep in the clutches of grief—his face haggard, his dark eyes red and swollen from crying—they all wondered what part he had played. None of them could prove Ares had something to do with Artemis’ death, he always asserted that all he had ever done was find the bloody remains of her body and brought her home to Olympus. They had been suspicious of him from that day on.

  The cold grin on his face turned into a sneer as Ares bared his teeth. “Don’t bring my sister into this, woman. I would never harm her. I loved her and she loved me.”

  “Love?” Aphrodite hissed. “What do you know about Love anyway, Ares?” She looked at the others one by one. “Lust and desire, you know. No woman will ever love you, what woman could love War? Not even Artemis could do this, that is why you raped her, and you killed her! Just as you killed my Daughter-in-law…in cold blood!” Aphrodite charged in a strong voice that rung through the Great Council Chamber. A low murmur of agreement followed.

  Standing in the middle of the Chamber, surrounded by his Kin, Ares balled his fists and railed at them. “You bitch! I never touched either of them!”

  Aphrodite had their attention and the wound of Artemis was still fresh and gaping. All of them desperately wanting to punish someone—anyone—for the heinous crime. “You. You are cold and you are ruthless, you are selfish and you care nothing for anything that does not directly benefit you. All you know is what you want. All you care
about is what you want; the whys and the hows and who gets hurt do not matter. Not to Psyche and not to Artemis. You killed them!”

  With that, Olympus shook and rumbled for days as the Gods argued over the deaths of Psyche and Artemis.

  All of this left Zeus in quite the pickle. To his mind, there was only one way to solve the mystery of how Psyche died. Zeus finally demanded that Hades call Psyche forth from the Underworld to be questioned. Hades was never a big fan of letting those in his kingdom out for a little walk, but he capitulated even though he had already told Zeus the woman knew nothing. They summoned the Soul of Psyche to Olympus and to the Great Council Chamber. This was no easy feat, Hades did not do it lightly, and he warned Zeus that he could not do it for long.

  Eros stood on his side of the table looking at her with lost love and burning suspicion. When asked what happened, Psyche’s Soul replied that she did not know. The only thing she remembered was spending the day with Eros, they walked along the beach collecting seashells and making love. They picnicked and made love some more. They were coming back along the sandy path to the tower and…that was last thing she could recall with any certainty. Eros said all was true and they had spent the day in this manner.

  The next thing Psyche knew she was standing on the shores of the River Styx. She didn’t remember Apollo or Ares but she vehemently denied having an affair with either of them and swore that she had been faithful to her Husband since the day they were married. Never did she wish for another Lover.

  With no answers to either mystery, the inhabitants of Olympus continued their bitter bickering and backstabbing until Zeus could no longer stand it. Long ago, he had decreed death would be the punishment for any Olympian who killed another Olympian. Yet Psyche was not an Olympian; she was only Immortal due to Zeus’ good graces. To this end Zeus could not condemn Ares to death for he had not killed a God, if indeed he killed her at all.

  As for Artemis, Zeus knew she had a very close relationship with Ares. Being very much alike in many ways, but none more than in their love of the forests and all things wild and free, they stuck together through thick and thin. When they were very small hardly was there a time when one was without the other. They spent days upon days deep in the woods hunting and exploring. Like Apollo, Ares was very protective of his sister. Let someone say a bad word about Artemis in Ares’ presence and it was likely to be the last thing the fool ever did. The only thing more apt to bring a person more pain than badmouthing Artemis was making her cry. That brought death. Despite the darkness of his very nature, Ares was very loving with Artemis, kind, and even tender. Over the years as the two grew older, Zeus often wondered just how close Artemis and Ares had become. So did Apollo, who warned against their relationship, telling Artemis to stay away from Ares as he could only cause her heartache.

  Artemis never hesitated to return the favors and affection Ares showed to her. More often than not, she was the only one standing by her brother in times of trouble. Artemis was one of the few Olympians who could openly jest with Ares, go so far as to make fun of him, even mock him, and still make him laugh heartily. Unless he was causing pain, agony, suffering or outright carnage, Ares never found anything to laugh or smile about. She was the only one who could ever get Ares to willingly change his mind about anything, and he was one stubborn little bastard when he got his sights set on something. Never one to argue, Artemis seemed to have a gentle way of soothing her brother even when Ares was at his worst, but she never interjected herself into Ares’ affairs unless she thought he was terribly wrong or way over the top in his actions. Other than that, she accepted him and let Ares be Ares. Above all other things, Zeus thought it was this that had earned Artemis Ares’ loyalty, his respect, and his admiration.

  Both in pubic and in private when questioned by his Father, Ares vigorously and vehemently maintained his innocence in both crimes. Ares denied ever touching Psyche or Artemis. No matter how close he appeared with the latter, Ares understood Artemis was proud of her chasteness and he would never seek to relieve her of it. Never betray her in any manner never mind one so vile. As to the former, Psyche, not in all the years he had known her, Ares proclaimed, did he ever take her to bed by seduction or force.

  Zeus had to be absolutely certain Ares was guilty if he was going to condemn him to death. Again, proof fell far short. The idea of Ares holding Artemis down and doing to her the things he would do to any Mortal woman disgusted Zeus and rang hollow in his heart. Ares was one ruthless, merciless, cold-blooded bastard and Aphrodite had been right when she said he had loved no one other than himself. It was so hard to put anything past him, above him or below him. Ares was Chaos Incarnate and apt to do absolutely anything at any given moment in time. But this? There were so few of them left here on Olympus. The world had moved on without them and losing even one more Olympian was too much for Zeus’ old heart to bear.

  Unable to condemn Ares to death but knowing the others were unwilling to live with Ares any longer, Zeus had no choice but to strip Ares of his Station among them, along with his Crown and Scepter before casting him out of Olympus and into Exile. There Ares would remain until he confessed to his crimes or proved his innocence beyond any doubt. Eros added another stipulation and that was that Ares had to provide his Son with a suitable woman to replace Psyche.

  As to Artemis, there was no replacement for her.

  “My Brother will never prove his innocence because he’s as guilty as the day is long.” To accentuate his point, Apollo gestured upward with an open hand at the sun high in the sky. “A short while after that a little thing known as the American Revolution broke out…”

  History did not teach her much regarding the relationship between Ares and Artemis and so she had no information of her own upon which to rely. However, History did tell her in no uncertain terms how much Ares and Apollo hated each other. Given that, she would not put it past Apollo to bear false witness against Ares or at least make him look guilty. This left Alena with a dilemma, she did not know whether to believe Apollo’s story or what his word was even worth. “Which side was Lord Ares on?”

  Apollo looked at her queerly thinking the question odd. “The Rebels,” he answered as though it didn’t matter. Ares cared not for sides, just for bloodshed, just for battle and savagery. “My point, lowly Fey, is that the man you are shacked up with here….”

  “Forgive me, Lord Apollo, but I take great exception with you believing that I am some type of toy for Lord Ares to play with.”

  “Then prove me wrong,” Apollo challenged, “come with me to Olympus where my Father waits for you.”

  Yes, to Olympus where there will be even more Olympians than there are here. Olympus where I seem to be invited but unwelcome. One thing Alena knew was that it was usually better to dance with the devil you knew than to risk dancing with one—or six or seven—that you didn’t. “I already told you, I can’t comply. I’m sorry, please relay my regret to the Great God Zeus, but I am unable to leave this island.” Alena stood up and brushed the sand from her dress.

  “Why do you willingly leave yourself in peril?” Apollo looked at her with narrowed gold eyes. “I will take you from here, from him; to some place Ares can never harm you. Aren’t you afraid of him?”

  “No.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “No.”

  “Foolish, but not stupid,” Apollo chimed with an icy grin. “If I were you, I’d be quite afraid to venture to his bed since so many women before you have died there.”

  “Died? In Ares’ bed?” Those eyes were still staring through her but she fought against his stare, trying to block him out. She didn’t want Apollo to see the rabid thoughts running through her mind.

  “Yes, his lust is dark, wanton and insatiable. When you’re alone in the dark of night, all tucked away in your room fantasizing about running your own hands over him, feeling the heat and the weight of him over you, the taste of his sweat on our tongue, you might want to remember that. My Brother is quite lethal
.”

  “I have no idea what transpires in Ares’ bed,” Alena said with all of the strength she could muster. For it seemed to her that the last words he’d said, about her thoughts when she was alone in her room, he’d said them with such certainty that she believed they had been plucked directly from her mind. Whatever she did or did not think about Ares wasn’t any concern of Apollo.

  “Yes, you do,” Apollo said sternly. “This conversation is boring me. Why do you still refuse to come with me?” If it were not for Cronos, Apollo would simply grab the troublesome woman and whisk her away. Alas, this was forbidden. Those who were not Olympian by birth or by making could only enter the Gates of Olympus if they were 1-invited and 2-agreed to go. Bothersome as it was, it was a safety feature designed to keep the Olympians from snatching up whoever caught their eye and keeping them forever, as Olympians were apt to do. That was all right, once she agreed to go, Alena would remain on Olympus until the Olympians decided to let her go, if they decided to let her go.

  Alena shook her head and smiled sadly. “I am not…refusing,” she said, choosing her words carefully, trying not to show her mistrust of Apollo and the other Olympians. Things were so much easier out there in the Mortal World where if you wanted to tell someone to fuck off you just looked them in the eye and said it. Gods were always so damn pissy. Worse than that, there was bad blood here and Alena had no idea of what it was until Apollo told her of Artemis. The Olympians must think she knew something about that. But why? Trying to get a clear head, she felt her heart race and her stomach tie itself in knots, but getting excited and flustered wouldn’t help her so Alena remained calm on the outside. “If you will return here when Lord Ares does and you should get his permission for me to leave here, then I will go to Olympus with you. That’s all I ask.”

  “Alena!”

  The silver hairs on the back of Alena’s neck stood straight up and she wrapped her arms around herself to keep her warmth as she rose to her feet. “Did you hear that?” she asked and raised her head to the wind, waiting to see if it would call out her name again.