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Two couples discover their swinging secrets.
Persephone turned to look at Hades.
"Hades." At the sound of his name, Hades' hungry, wandering eyes locked into Persephone's gaze. "Kneel."
Sparks sprinkled down from the nearby braziers, his knees hit the ground so hard. A wave of airy laughter swept over the audience, and the short gold-haired creature waved her hand, saying something that sounded appeased.
Hades was nervous- he still wasn't sure what to expect, but kept rapt attention to his mistress. The toned, muscular lines of her bronzed body led his gaze up to the padded altar, where she turned around and sat on its edge.
"Hades," she trilled, brushing a long curtain of wavy brown hair behind her shoulder, crossing her legs, completely unabashed by her own nakedness, "Do you know why we take tribute? Why prisoners are sent from the nation of Myieaoul every year?"
Hades tried to clear his mind enough to reach into memory. "Uhmm... the condition of peace, to punish our nation for attempting to invade the Ephaemeryl in our arrogance for-"
"No." Persephone leaned forward, the strange, soft lobes swelling from her pectoral muscles swaying beneath her shoulders as she stared into Hades. "The Myieaoul have been our allies for generations. The Ephaemeryl are deeply indebted to your nation for their service, and vice versa. Tribute is one reason why our alliance has been so mutually beneficial; leaders of one nation groomed at the mercy of another. You were not brought, Hades, as a sacrifice. You offered yourself to torture and death willingly, which means you have earned a rank most of your kind will never know. It is my responsibility- our responsibility," she gestured around the room, "to teach you... shape you... guide you into being a servant worthy of holding thousands of lives at your mercy."
Hades was dumbfounded and agog. His whole universe had been shaken, and he struggled to clutch all the fragments. Persephone smiled, edging up onto the altar until she was reclining onto a pile of cushions. "The first step to teaching, however, is to learn what kind of student you are. Most humans can handle adversity, but a true test of virtue is to give someone power. So, Hades... Show me what you would do with power." She leaned back until she was limp against the fabric, spread out across the altar. "I grant you complete power over me. I order you to do whatever you want to me."
Hades couldn't breathe. The whispered chatter among the audience, the entire chamber, nothing existed except for that altar, and the goddess' prone form in the fires' glow. He leaned forward until he was on all fours, and began to crawl. He made it to the base of the dias, and climbed on top- the textiles were soft, amazingly fine, and of no interest to him as he crouched at the feet of his mistress, who looked down on him without judgement. His sturdy, well-muscled frame trembling with weakness, his eyes darted across every inch of Persephone.
Immovable humility made a compromise with eager obedience; Grasping her left ankle with one hand, he cradled her foot in the other, raising it gently as he bent down to plant a firm kiss in the delicate arch of her foot.
An impressed murmur rose from the audience. Persephone smiled. "Good. Keep going."
Hades' mind was swimming, and he struggled to control his motions. His hands moved further and further up her leg, kissing, licking, giving the gentlest, most respectful bite now and again. Halfway up, he pushed and pulled to raise and straighten her knee, puffing a hot breath onto her skin as he passionately kissed the back of her knee- Ephaemeryl physiology was a mystery to him, but he was well-versed in anatomy and the pleasures of the peripheral nervous system, and knew how to put his knowledge to use. Dragging his fingertips up along her inner thigh, he kissed closer and closer to her sex. His hand slid underneath, his palm gliding along her smooth buttocks and up the small of her back. His vision dimmed into splashes of color as he brushed his lips to her vulva.
He kissed it, again and again, before probing with his tongue- an op