Aphrodite · Part 1 (1/2)
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Aphrodite's Gift by Yoni Steele F/m; bdsm; cbt; nc; XXX
Gods and Goddesses. Can’t live with them. Can’t live without them.
I thought that Aphrodite would be a sweet, beneficent goddess. I was wrong. Well, sort of. I suppose that it is possible to piss off even the kindest, most loving people – or goddesses — if you work hard at it — or if you just accidentally stumble upon the one thing that cracks them open. Ironically, I wasn’t trying to make her mad;
I was trying to impress her. I had no idea that her temple would be damaged in any way; I certainly wouldn’t have guessed that it would be completely destroyed!
And now the pile of rocks that was once a beautiful memorial building with carefully sculpted columns of marble is my everlasting prison. To ensure its permanence, she had her wicked half-brother Hermes fuse the crumbled blocks of granite and marble into a thick shell of solid rock, with a spacious, but inescapable cave inside for me. And to make sure that I have plenty of time to appreciate the hellish prison that she has condemned me to live in, the devious goddess actually gave me my dearest wish (although I really wish that she hadn’t): she made me immortal!
Why did I want immortality? Well, frankly I was jealous of that stupid, muscle-bound Hercules. I wanted to be an immortal like him.
I didn’t care about living on Olympus, but life eternal was such a desirable thing. Unlike that moron who managed to get lost for a couple of decades after attacking Troy, I am smart, very smart, and talented, too.
I knew that if I was immortal I would eventually be the richest man in the world. And that has a distinct appeal to it. So I did nice things for Aphrodite as she has a reputation for showing appreciation to those who respect and adore her. In fact, I designed and directed the construction of this once beautiful temple for her, so her worshipers could come and adore the immense marble statues of her — some of which
I had personally carved — and leave their offerings of gold, silver and jewels. The huge structure rivalled the Parthenon, which was built by one of my most intense competitors for that stunning but stupid goddess of war, Athena. (It’s hard to believe that some people call her the
Goddess of Wisdom. Goddess Without Wisdom is more like it!)
Well, I am digressing. If I had known that I was going to end up as the only permanent resident of Aphrodite’s temple, I would have built a secret underground exit like I did in that building I designed for that asshole politician Deroticus.
The construction project took a long time, but it was worth it. Aphrodite actually liked the place a lot, in fact much more than I would have expected.
I guess that she is a little bit jealous of Athena, although I’m not sure why. The dark-haired Aphrodite is clearly the most spectacular gem among all the goddesses in Olympus. At the temple dedication ceremony, she smiled graciously at me, and said “It is a very sweet and lovely gesture of fealty. You will hold a special place in my heart forever, even though you are merely a mortal. This earthly temple is a splendid monument. I will certainly stay here every time that I come down from Olympus. So, dearest subject, how would you like to be rewarded by your appreciative goddess?”
I returned her smile with one of my own. It was amazing that she could look so beautiful in such a simple robe of white cotton and gold trim, but she is, after all, the goddess of love. I suspect that she would look positively bewitching even if draped only in rags. “Well, I made this building to last forever, you know, with lots of extra buttressing and reinforced archways and extra large columns,” I began. “I’d like to be around to watch it outlast all the others built by all other mortals.”
It was a bold reply, and perhaps a bit stupid and offensive. I knew that it was considered to be blasphemous to make such a request, but it was a one-shot deal As I expected, she wasn’t amused by my answer.
She warned me that mortals shouldn’t even dare to ask such things, but as I had made such a magnificent structure to honor her, she would find something truly magnificent as a reward for me.
Well, my claim was accurate; it would have lasted forever — if I hadn’t meddled in the love affairs of a few gods! But I did, so the temple was destroyed.
When it tumbled to the ground, her eyes blazed with a fire so intense that
I thought that I had been given a glimpse of Hades; I was certain that she was going to kill me on the spot. But she quickly calmed down; her dark green eyes sparkled as she admitted that she was still committed to rewarding me for my personal display of adoration: design and construction of the temple, even though I was subsequently responsible for its destruction.
was then that she unexpectedly granted me my wish and bestowed immortality upon me; but it was a gift with a twist. “I give you the life of the gods so you can use all of eternity to make up for your brainless mistake,”
she hissed. I was delighted, and promised that I would rebuild the temple a thousand times over. Stupidly, I didn’t think to actually apologize, although I don’t know if it would have made any difference.
Because then she suddenly gave me a glimpse of the depth of her anger and screamed at me, “Some day you will have the privilege of building a new temple for me, and it will be a hundred times larger than your original, but not today. In fact, not for ten thousand years!” It was only then that I realized I was in serious trouble, although I didn’t know what kind; I wished that she had just asked Zeus to fry me with one of those lightning bolts of his. With a sudden, painful flash of insight I realized that the “gift” of immortality was simply her way of making my punishment, whatever it was going to be, last a very, very, very long time.
here I am, entombed forever in a mountain of rock. Personally, I think that imprisoning a person inside a cave for eternity is a sufficiently cruel punishment. There was no reason for Aphrodite to put me into bondage like this, too, nor to torture me so mercilessly. The heavy sheath of leather and metal that she used to lock my arms together behind my back really wasn’t necessary. They really hurt. A lot.
Am I supposed to get used to this pain? I don’t see how that is humanly (or inhumanly) possible. My forearms, from the elbows to the wrists, are pressed so tightly against each other by the sheath that they might as well have been fused like the rock shell around me. (I had no idea that it was possible to make a person’s elbows touch each other!)
And my hands are individually encased in rigid, steel gloves that prevent me from touching anything, even another finger. There aren’t a lot of things to do in a cave, but it would have been nice to be able to scratch my nose when it itches, like it does at the moment, or to play with the rocks inside my prison. And there are quite a few of those strewn around the marble floor.
And these infernal sandals that she made to encase my feet are unlike anything that I have ever worn. In fact, I’ve never even seen anything like them. They completely encase my feet, which are bent downwards in the graceful arch of a dancer, and held that way, rigidly by leather and stone; the red leather boots cover my legs all the way up my thigh and are tautly laced with metal wires. A thin crystal spike beneath each heel forces me to walk on my toes, without respite. And the leather that ensheaths my legs is so thick that I can barely bend them to walk.
On second thought, that is probably a good thing because otherwise my ankles might collapse from the awful strain!
How will I ever learn to tolerate the ache in my feet from the unnatural arch that she has condemned me to endure??? Even dancers don’t walk this way for more than a few steps. And of course, they don’t have to deal with the hindrance of a horse’s hobble, spreading their ankles apart by nearly two cubits!
A muscle spasm, as sharp as any I’ve ever felt. I should have anticipated that. The strain on my legs from standing on my toes with my legs spread apart like some pack animal is awful. And it will get worse.
But there is no way for me to lie down or to sit on the floor. And with the round wall of my prison arches away from me at the base, so I can’t even lean against the it for support. She knew that, too.
Nasty, vindictive goddess!
She knew that the pain in my arms and legs would be excruciating. But apparently that wasn’t enough for her. So she encased my head in this blood red, leather helmet, too. The two small round, jewel-filled holes are almost impossible to look through; it drives me crazy because a mere tilt of my head changes the appearance of the room in bizarre ways.
The faceted jewels sparkle and glint, too, and create multiple images that are constantly changing, which is very disorienting. And the nasty leather-covered, massive steel ball which completely fills my mouth stretches my jaw to the point were it seems like it should break. But it won’t because the stiff cowhide mask squeezes my face very nicely, thank you.
So my mouth hurts from being stretched to the limit, and I feel as though the rest of my head is grasped in a uniform vise that compresses every square centimeter of skin. In addition, the constant taste of leather reminds me of beefsteak, which makes me hungry. Of course, the gag will forever keep me from eating, although she told me it was to keep me silent.
Yeah, right. Who am I going to talk to in here, alone forever? I suspect that I would probably have deafened myself with my screams for mercy after only a short while. The sound would have echoed endlessly off the smooth, curved stone walls. But that possibility is gone.
Instead I hear my own heart pounding and the clack of the stone heels as
I walk ceaselessly in these infernal sandals.
really plays unfair. I didn’t hurt anyone. The goblet that
I took from the altar was still in the main gift room, although hidden behind a marble column. I only took a few drops of the love potion to put into Zeus’s drink, and a few more for her drink. The idea of Zeus falling deeply in love with his own daughter in a not-so-fatherly way seemed funny to me. It’s not like the gods and goddesses of Olympus have perfectly monogamous relationships. Heck, Zeus himself is a perfect example of that; his two daughters have different mothers.
So who would have thought that beautiful Hera would have been so upset and enraged when she saw Zeus and his own daughter, the lovely Aphrodite, passionately kissing each other??? Since Aphrodite is the goddess of love, it seemed pretty natural to me. Anyway, I didn’t even know that Hera knew how to control his thunderbolts. Who would have guessed that in anger the normally gentle Hera would have used that thunder and his lightning bolts to turn Aphrodite’s temple into a pile of rubble?
Now all that I see as I walk around in this temple, or solitary prison I should say, are images of Aphrodite. The collar holds my head upwards so all I can look at is the ceiling, which is adorned with lovely paintings of her. Seeing her half-naked in all those images will drive me insane with lust before too much time has elapsed, I’d wager. She has such a sensuously stunning body and a face of unparalleled grace and elegance.
Aphrodite is the perfect manifestation of desire. So if the intensely sexual pictures of her don’t drive me crazy, the smell of all the food that she has placed around the room to torment me surely will. With my head tilted upwards, I can’t see any of it, but I can smell the fruit and berries and other luscious treats that she has preserved so they will stay fresh for all of eternity. It isn’t fair. I will never die for want of nourishment because of my immortality, but I will remain hungry forever, suffering the pangs of starvation in a room filled with the tantalizing and sweet scents of all of my favorite foods!
But the worst torments of all are the sexual ones. My sexual frustration stems from so much more than being exposed to a visual feast of erotic images of my beautiful goddess. From my ball sack hangs a massive weight that bobs up and down and sways from side to side with each step that I take, yanking my balls down or frontward or backwards or to the left or to the right, creating a slightly different pain with each unpredictable jerk. The leather cord that encircles the top of my ball sack is painfully tight, and seems to be g
Aphrodite · Part 1 (1/2)
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