Bred by the Spartans (2 page)

Thaleia watched in terrified fascination as Poseidon withdrew his enormous, rigid manhood from her cousin’s mouth. “Clea,” she couldn’t help saying, “are you alright?”

Clea gave her a strange, wide-eyed look, as if she were somewhere else, and then a little nod that seemed to say that the answer to Thaleia’s question was impossible to give, but a nod would suffice. Having the two mightiest beings in the cosmos use her body for their pleasure clearly was pleasurable for her, on some level, but Thaleia could read in Clea’s eyes that the ordeal had been one that had also frightened her, and transformed her, somehow.

“Clea’s fine, sweet Thaleia,” Zeus said. “Lord Poseidon and I have been doing the deeds of Eros with her, just as Clea has been longing to do them. Young goddesses yearn for the deeds of Eros, just as we gods do. Isn’t that right, Clea?”

“Yes, lord,” Clea whispered, and Thaleia could see on her face that it was true, although it had taken her cousin into realms far beyond her experience to that day.

“And now it’s your turn, Thaleia,” Zeus said. “Take off your chiton and get on that couch next to Clea, and I’ll show you how good the deeds of Eros feel.”

But Thaleia’s mind rebelled. She had only taken a dare from Argeia; she just wanted to go back to her father’s palace and play knucklebones the way Argeia had said they would, if Thaleia took the dare and ran through Zeus’ palace.

She looked at the mighty god standing before her, his face growing stern as he saw that Thaleia was hesitating. His manhood… was even bigger than Poseidon’s. And he wanted to put it inside her and do that thing that looked so violent, that he had been doing to Clea.

“Thaleia,” said Zeus, “you must stop this coy pretense of innocence. When the father of gods and men wants to enjoy you, you would be well served to obey him. Now get yourself over the couch, or your backside is going to pay a heavy price before I have you at last.”

“Oh, my lord… please… can’t I wait? I’m only nineteen.”

“Thaleia,” Zeus said, “it appears that you still do not understand the order of things on Olympus. I do the deeds of Eros with whatever girl I choose, whenever I choose, and, like Clea here, that girl understands, when I choose her, that in truth she yearns for me just as I yearn for her. Do you mean to say that, seeing me uncovered before you, and ready for you, you do not yearn to submit to my will?”

How could Thaleia express what she felt at Zeus’ words, and at the sight of his divine manhood there before her? She looked at Clea’s face as Lord Poseidon, his own face transfigured with godly pleasure, pushed into her over and over. Clea had her head down and her eyes closed, and suddenly Thaleia realized that she wanted to be in Clea’s place, wanted Zeus’ enormous manhood to do to her what Poseidon’s was doing to Clea, but that Thaleia could never admit to that feeling, for she found that her pride and honor would not allow it.

Zeus looked at her sternly. “The consequences of resistance are great, Thaleia.”

The air began to push at her again, and a terrible gust of wind ripped her chiton right off her body. She cried out at her nakedness, confronted by Zeus and his enormous masculinity.

“This is your last chance to avoid a thrashing before I ravish you, sweet Thaleia,” Zeus said. “Get on that couch and push out your bottom for a fucking, or I’m going to spank you first and ravish you after.”

Thaleia thought of Maia, mother of Zeus’ son Hermes, now an Olympian himself. She had never until now understood the story she had heard in hushed whispers, of how Zeus had come for her on the mountainside, and kept her inside a cave while he took his pleasure for nine days and nights. Of how Maia had barely survived the ordeal, and was not allowed now ever to come to Olympus for fear of Hera.

A blast of wind pushed Thaleia over to the couch where Poseidon was by this time vigorously thrusting into Clea, holding the girl’s wrists behind her, as Clea cried out under the sea god’s massive member. The wind pushed Thaleia down until she was kneeling next to the couch with her hands out in front of her, and her face in the cushion.

Zeus chuckled. “I like the ones with a little spirit,” he said. “They tend to make the mightiest heroes.”

He gave her a spank on her little bottom, and another. Thaleia whimpered. “Please, Lord Zeus! Ow! Please!” she cried.

“Quiet, girl,” he said. “You’re fortunate I’m not using my whip. Girls who get the whip don’t enjoy the deeds of Eros quite as much afterward. Should I get my whip?”

“No! Oh, lord… please…”

Thaleia thought about the whip of Zeus, and knew that she wanted to feel it striking her bottom. She thought about his enormous manhood, and knew that she wanted to be made to take it everywhere, along every avenue of pleasure the sky god might find.

But she also knew, with crystalline clarity, that she could never say so.

“You must break me,” she said to the cushion.

“What did you say?” she heard Zeus ask, behind her.

Zeus stopped spanking Thaleia. “You are going to pay a very severe price for balking me, Thaleia, you foolish girl. You will wish that you had simply done the deeds of Eros with me and had your little hero.”

Then, with relief, but still in horror at what she had done and what it might mean, Thaleia heard the voice of Hera herself, at the door. “Brothers,” she said, “I think your fun is at an end, for tonight. I sense that Clea is now with child, by Poseidon, and so she is mine. I will bring her to Hestia. Has that other one done the deeds of Eros, yet?”

“No, my lady wife,” said Zeus.

“Send her to Artemis, then, with her sister, who woke me and is right outside.”

“Artemis will not receive Thaleia,” Zeus said, coldly. “Thaleia asked for breaking.”

“Very well, then. Take her to Aphrodite’s palace, and break her there.”

“What?” Thaleia cried.

“Child,” Hera said, “I have no power where you are concerned. You have been foolish, and I hope perhaps I will be able to help you some day, but I fear you have a hard road ahead.”

Argeia came rushing into the
andron
. “Lady Hera, please! This was my fault! Let Lord Zeus take me to Aphrodite’s halls instead of Thaleia!”

“My lord?” Hera asked.

“No,” said Zeus. “Thaleia has asked to be broken, and it is my right to break her.” He laid his hand on Thaleia’s bottom. “No hero, girl. Just a long, long night with my manhood in your backside, and a trip down to the lands of mortal men afterward.”

Chapter Two

The air lifted Thaleia up off the dining couch. Argeia was sobbing, “Thaleia, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“No, it’s not, Argeia,” Thaleia said. “I didn’t have to look in here, and I didn’t have to be foolish.” Tears were coming from her eyes, too, but she blinked them back. Zeus, with his power over the wind, seemed to have fastened her in the same humiliating position she’d had to hold over the dining couch: bottom up, over bent knees, head down. She could turn her face from side to side, but the rest of her body had been completely frozen in place by an invisible force that felt like pillows, but was impossible to resist.

She was about six feet in the air, and she saw, with a furious blush, through her spread knees, that Zeus stood behind her with a leer on his face, surveying her most private charms. Thaleia felt strangely calm, despite the terrible turn of events, despite watching poor Clea led away, crying, by Lady Hera, despite the heart-wrenching sadness on Argeia’s face.

No more knucklebones, Thaleia knew, ever again. Her immortal life was about to take a very strange, new path. But even as she felt the tears flow, in sympathy with her beloved sister’s, she remembered the thought that had been growing in her mind for months now—ever since her cousin had taken her first journey down Olympus to visit her little hero invisibly for a few days—that there must be life beyond Olympus, even beyond taking a journey every year to see your hero child but never talking to him, since only Athena, Hermes, and Aphrodite got to talk to heroes without very special permission.

Even the thought of the terrible retribution awaiting her in the halls of Aphrodite seemed to her not as frightening as she might have thought it would be before she had seen Clea used by Zeus and Poseidon. At the thought, to her distress and embarrassment, she felt her secret part,
her shameful places, growing damp, and she sent a prayer to Hestia that Zeus would not notice her immodesty.

That prayer, however, went unanswered, for she felt the air moving her slightly, adjusting her height off the ground and spreading her knees even further, and she watched in horror and helpless arousal as the father of gods and men stepped forward, looking her straight in the eye, and then seized her backside in both hands and pulled upon it, to bring her secret cleft down to him. She closed her eyes, so that she would not have to see what he was doing, and she felt his mouth there. The pleasure was more exquisite than anything she had ever felt, but the shame at the way he made her moan seemed even greater. He tasted, he licked, he kissed.

Then the mighty sky god pulled his head back and said. “Do you see now, Thaleia, why it would have been better simply to have taken your fucking?”

“Yes, my lord,” she moaned, but she was far from sure.

She turned to look again at Argeia. “It will be alright,” she said. “I may not see you for a long time, but it will be alright.”

Argeia turned to Zeus. “May I embrace my sister, my lord?”

Zeus made an exasperated face. “Yes, girl, but make it quick.”

Argeia threw her arms around Thaleia’s neck, in that very strange position, with Thaleia hovering naked in the air, and whispered in her ear, “I will make this better. I promise.”

Thaleia kissed her sister’s cheek. “I love you, Argeia,” she said.

Argeia loosed her arms, and without a word Zeus’ power pushed the airborne, prostrate Thaleia in front of him out of the
andron
of the palace, and into the courtyard. Dawn was just breaking, so thankfully there was no one on the avenues of the divine enclave, but Thaleia still could not believe how humiliating it was to be floating naked and spread open in front of the father of gods and men, toward the halls of Aphrodite.

The halls of Aphrodite stood on the outskirts of the enclave. All Thaleia’s life, her parents had told Thaleia and Argeia that they must never go there. As she approached the palace complex, the cries emanating from its environs seemed to provide justification for her parents’ rule. The divinely pure air of the mountaintop home of the gods made sounds travel farther than they did in the lands of men. That meant that Thaleia could hear the cries of erotic passion coming from the subterranean halls, carved into the face of Olympus itself, when they were still a hundred yards away from the main sanctuary, with its pillars of rose marble and its roof of tourmaline.

Girls whispered to one another about the halls of Aphrodite at Hestia’s house, when they went for their lessons in weaving divine fabric and preparing nectar and ambrosia for the feasts of the gods. None had ever seen inside, and even if one were ever to meet a god or goddess who had entered it, it seemed that those who came there had a charm upon their lips, never to talk about what happened inside.

Once, Argeia had told her that she had seen Gelo, a daughter of Heracles and Hebe, walking up from the direction of the halls. Argeia said that Gelo seemed to be walking stiffly. The next time the nymphs bathed together in the bathhouse of Tethys, Argeia said, Gelo had tried to keep her backside hidden, but Argeia had snuck a peek and seen that it seemed to be covered in stripes, as from a whip.

“So goddesses go there to be punished?!” Thaleia had whispered, as she wound the wool of the immortal sheep of Hermes onto her golden distaff, feeling strangely fascinated. “That doesn’t make sense! Aphrodite is the goddess of love!”

“I know,” Argeia had whispered back, “but I know what I saw! And Aphrodite’s not the goddess of love, you know, really, is she? She’s the goddess of that thing we’re not allowed to know about, that Mother and Father do.” They both had looked at kind Hestia, who took care of everyone, and made sure that families stayed close even when misunderstandings arose—the real goddess of love, Thaleia thought.

Thaleia floated up to the steps of the sanctuary. The entrance to the halls was at the top of those steps, through the pillars, she knew, though the steps were high enough that even six feet in the air she could not see it. She thought about how she had felt when Zeus spanked her over the dining couch, and though she still did not understand what was happening to her soul, she began to see that a certain sense lay in the idea of punishment being part of the deeds of Eros.

The power of Zeus unbent her and set her down, standing upon the lowest step.

“My power does not avail me here except by Aphrodite’s permission,” he said. “As you will soon learn, she is the only divinity as powerful as I, at least in her own realms—in the bodies of gods and mortals, and here in her palace. Now go up the stairs, so I can see that pretty bottom to its best advantage.” Then he gave her a hard spank with his enormous hand, across both her bottom cheeks, and she cried out at the loud thunderclap sound of Zeus’ hand, and at the terrible, shameful sting.

Just then the very loud moan of a goddess carried up from the unseen entrance to the halls, and a boy’s voice cried out merrily, “Well struck, my lord Hephaestus!” Was it Eros, the winged boy who wasn’t allowed near any of the young women in the enclave, but whom they all saw and pointed at? None of the girls knew why they should be so very interested in him, except perhaps because he was forbidden, but they never failed, if anyone said, “There’s Eros!” all to turn around and peer through the golden air of the divine mountain, for a glimpse of the strange sight of the boy, actually countless eons old, flitting here and there doing who knew what.

Thaleia gave a little sob of fear. Hoping that by obeying Zeus now she might gain a little mercy from him, she climbed the steps. She felt her bottom moving in front of the god’s eyes, and tried to keep her legs as close together as she could, blushing to think that if she didn’t, Zeus would see her shameful parts as she climbed the steps.