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Mortals were not unlike a nagging, flea-ridden cat. Always attempting to rub against the gods’ legs and bringing them unwanted and simply disgusting tributes that only serve to cloud their views with rot and frivolous- if not childish- gifts that an immature creature would thrust upon an unwilling and unnerved custodian.
Hades drowned out the never ending drone of his so-called worshipers with his ever growing work.
Denied.
Denied.
Hmph- Granted.
Don’t test me. Denied.
Something kept pulling his attention. Hades promptly ignored it. Too much work was to be done in the Underworld. Cerberus wrecked the lounge again, the Furies infighting, too much in House tension-
A particularly persistent cult had been constantly vying for his attention. Try as he might, the Lord of the Underworld wasn’t able to block out their insistent wailing and begging and their infuriating conclusion that he, god of the Underworld and Lord of the dead, would want more work due to their continuous sacrifices in his name!
Hades massaged his temples with the flat of his palms. The noise of the House was too much. Chattering spirits throughout the House, Hypnos snoring in the hallway ahead, panicked apologies from servants in the lounge, Cerberus panting and licking his chops to his right-
Sheer fabrics shift against the other. Golden bands clink as wrists are moved. Up, to the side, back down. Lips painted red, cheeks dusted lightly, eyes framed in charcoal black. The figure isn’t remarkable, not even familiar, yet-
It angered him that something like this could happen to him, of all gods, once again. Hades couldn’t deny the calling he felt. It was as though he was damned to forever be intertwined with the affairs of mortals, not only in their deaths and their afterlife, but in his own, waking, living and longing moments, too. For the first time in an eternity, the Lord of Hell ignored his work and watched a mortal be dressed to be his next bride.
You…
Nervous, just like all mortals that were to be sacrificed ‘for the greater good’, your head hangs low and you fight back tears. You weren’t unwilling, no, you accepted this fate that had been laid before you, even if it left you trembling and feeling despondent and faint.
Too many hands were placed upon you, pulling you in far too many directions. Arms up, arms down, back up, lift your leg- no, the other, now- raise your head. Your make up had to be reapplied many times throughout the process. You couldn’t stop the tears…
The jewelry that was thrusted upon you was heavy and cumbersome. Garish gold encrusted with rubies and onyx that clashed and caused your head to stoop lower from the weight of your earrings, your neck to feel as though a noose made of gold and your wrists bound with chains that laid on top of one another until they nearly reached your elbows.
You never felt so over encumbered yet so bare before. Eyes were on you- not the eyes of those that dressed you for your destined end. No matter where you looked, you felt unnerved. Vulnerable, as though some great, unknown force was staring into your very soul. Every time you brought your arms to your chest, they were swatted away and shoved down. A pair of fingers raised your chin. You raised your eyes.
The attendants were gone, along with the touch.
Yes, you would be the first and only one he would ever take.
It had never happened before- not with Lord Hades, that is. He not only disliked, but despised mortals that worshiped him. They wasted his time, stole his attention away from his true, ever growing work that would never have an end. This time, however, was different. This sacrifice, you, was special. He would accept you, though to no benefit of the ones that gifted you to him. They will die and be processed as any other mortal would be at the end of their pathetically short lives.
Not you, though.
You were not unwilling… yet you were not compliant, either. You refused to raise your head, stand up straight, allow your new Lord to bask in your mortal beauty. Hades steadily became frustrated with your meek stature.
“Raise your head, mortal. Your Lord commands it.”
You didn’t want to anger a god, not this god. Still… you hesitated.
Rough fingers hold your jaw between thumb and forefinger. He tilts your chin upwards, until you're left with no other choice than to look directly at him, no matter how your eyes attempt to dart away from his hard glare.
No, not a glare. This man- no, this god- could kill you in any way he sees fit. Whether it be from his bare hands or by stealing your soul away, he did neither. He did command you and you refused. Still, you live. The Lord of the Underworld didn’t look down at you with searing rage, but with something that left you feeling flushed and naked under his gaze.
Hades couldn’t deny that you fanned a flame that had long since died inside of him. Dressing you in his House colours must have been an accident, though it was one the Lord couldn’t deny he enjoyed greatly.
The feeling was a familiar one. Warm, all encompassing, like a weighted shroud that binded him in place and one that he did not wish to shake free from. Your face, though… your face was unfamiliar. Hades had likely seen a hundred thousand just like it yet… he feels as though he’s looking upon it for the first time.
You didn’t know what to expect from the Lord of the Underworld. He was unreadable; his facial expression, his tone of voice, the way he carried himself… You felt small and vulnerable under his gaze. Try as you might, no matter where you look or how you hold yourself, it wasn’t what he expected of you. You knew what he wanted though you tried to stave it off with innocence and ignorance. It greatly frustrated him and, as much as you expected violence, you didn’t expect him to simply command-
“Shed your clothing.”
His face betrayed nothing. Warmth rises to your cheeks and pools somewhere in your gut. You hesitated, then braced for the worst. Would he strike you? Would he kill you? …could something worse be underfoot…? Hades raised his hand and you instinctively flinched, screwing your eyes shut as you prepared for pain.
Nothing happened.
Your heart throbbed behind your ears. Your hair covers your face as you hang your head, terrified. The weight of the unwanted jewelry makes it too easy for you to hide your face. Your posture is pathetic- partially hunched over and visibly trembling as you wait for whatever punishment is sure to come your way.
You didn’t mean to disobey the Lord of the Underworld, you are so scared and you are unworthy of being in his presence! To have him want you to- t-to undress before him…?
Cool fingers brush the hair from your face, following the frame of your face before they drag across your jawline, tilting your head up so that your Lord could see your tear-filled eyes. Your lower lip quivers as those fingers slide down your throat, coming to rest just above your breast bone.
BA-BUMP
BA-BUMP
BA-BUMP
It could be your imagination- wishful thinking- or perhaps your tears had obstructed your vision, but you could swear Lord Hades’ eyes softened if only just a little bit. Not completely, his facial expression and posture didn’t change, but his eyes…
Your tears fell from your eyes. It ruined your bridal makeup, leaving heavy streaks of colour down your face. Your Lord didn’t mind. No, perhaps these tears of confused emotion suited you rather well. You felt his fingers twitch ever-so-slightly against your chest. No- No, not a twitch. A tremble, as though someone saw something they longed for- they ached for- that was just within reach yet they hesitate to grasp ahold of, perhaps unsure if it was truly there and theirs for the taking.
It was easy for Hades to undress you. The fabrics slipped from your shoulder with merely a subtle shifting of his fingers against your shoulders. The thin cloths tickled your sides as they fell into a pool at your feet. You never thought much of your appearance. Not beautiful, not exactly ugly, either. Just… unremarkable. You couldn’t understand why someone, anyone, a god would want you in any way… But carnally?
Your stomach twists itself into knots as you are placed onto the edge of a massive bed. You feel akin to a doll. Small, able to be picked up and placed wherever your Master deems appropriate. Your knees leaned against one another, though it did nothing to hide your shame. He does not ask and you do not dare move from the position Lord Hades had placed you in, nor do you resist when he parts your legs as wide as you can comfortably accommodate.
The bangles around your ankles clang together as you dig your feet into the soft sheets underneath you. You don’t think you can look- No, you can’t. Your wrists are heavy and prove difficult to move. This damn gold… You blame the nonexistent restraints for the reason why you do not move from your compromising position. It’s humiliating… You clutch fistfuls of silk cloth and look away as a head of dark hair lowers to between your legs.
The image of a god- the god of the Underworld- kneeling before a mortal is something that would be heard in some bizarre tale of erotic love, yet you are seeing it in the corner of your own vision. One of his hands could easily wrap around your midsection and crush you to death. Your fear was renewed as one of your legs was grabbed and lifted upwards. In a panic, you begin a mad scramble backwards.
A panicked cry dies in your throat as your other leg is snatched. Most of your body- up to just past your shoulders- is lifted off the bed, leaving you dangling precariously and helplessly. The blood in your body is divided: more than half immediately rushes to your head, leaving you feeling faint and dizzy, while the rest manages to remain in your lower half- flush inside your guts and between your now uncomfortably parted legs.
“Do not reject me.”
The growl sends an ice cold chill down your spine. Whatever fleeting urge to resist dies as quickly as it surfaced. You are limp, breathing in deep pants through your open mouth. You can’t see Lord Hades in this position. You don’t even try to do so. You only screw your eyes shut and whimper as something soft and wet drags up the length of your sex.
Hades knew, try as you might, you would break at a moment’s notice. You expected pain, force, violence on his part. He’s no shrinking violet; Hades is rough, he is cold, but he is calculated and he wants- needs- you to need him first. Hades won’t allow you to live without him. When he is through with you, you wouldn’t be able to do so.
Perhaps even in death, he wouldn’t allow you to stray from his side…
You gasp and squirm, attempting to move your legs and being unable to do so, with your Lord holding you by the shins as his mouth connects to your sex. Every small movement from his tongue and his lips causes you to jerk in rhythm to his ministrations.
This position was uncomfortable. You strained to raise your head. So close… You were so close to raising your head, then you would tense, your head falling back down as Hades pays especially harsh attention to your clitoris.
Your chest heaves with heavy breath. Your hands grip onto the sheets for any amount of support. You no longer hide your moans of pleasure. Your hips willingly buck against the god of the Underworld’s mouth. Legs and lower back cramping, you can’t stop from wriggling and writhing in time to the pulses of pleasure that have steadily been building over time.
You didn’t think it would happen. It hasn’t happened before! You were overwhelmed by the tingling heat that exploded from deep within your core. The muscles in your body throbbed in time with the good feeling that continued without waning intensity. You were lost in the moment, whining as your climax waned into numbness.
The air was knocked from your lungs as you were dropped onto your back. I-Is it…? You yelp in surprise as you are grabbed by your ankles and dragged to the edge of the bed. He isn’t done with you?! A plea for respite was on the tip of your tongue, fumbling and cut off as you cried out in overstimulated confusion.
He wasn’t satisfied with the ending conclusion. You weren’t responding as he envisioned. Hades will continue, continue until you are hoarse from screaming and soaked in your own fluids, exhausted and pained from the pleasure you have been subjected to but unable to contain the lust that you have for him and him alone.
Even as it feels so good and hurts so, so much to feel anymore, you babble incoherently.
It hurts.
Feels so good.
Make it stop.
Don’t- Can’t-.
You will, as will he until you provide him what he has commanded of you. The command “Don’t reject me” is a distant memory and one that scares you. Not for the demand made but for the simple reality that you now know you wouldn’t be able to do so even if you had to.