It was incredibly light, grazing her most sensitive flesh just enough to let her know it was there.
Just enough to make her want to scream.
He was doing it on purpose, the bastard. He knew what this had to feel like.
Each light touch made her quiver. Her hips thrust up once, twice, trying to find something harder. Each time there was nothing…Even the feather disappeared.
Then his tongue flicked across her nipple; every muscle in her body went tight. One of his fingers found her inner thigh, and he laved her breast for the second time that afternoon, his hands moving oh-so-slowly upward toward her wet opening.
After what seemed like hours, he reached her center. She wanted him to push his fingers inside, to press against her clit and make her scream.
Instead, he touched it lightly, then allowed one finger to probe her gently.
Her aroused, dripping cunt offered no resistance.
She whimpered, bucking her hips up and wordlessly begging him to do something about her need. She almost cried out, then bit her lip to stay silent.
He thrust another finger into her body, and then his head lifted from her breast. He lowered it to her clit, sucking the tiny nub into his mouth. She bit down on her lip harder, tasting blood.
His tongue flicked back and forth across her clit, moving fast and then slowing down. Within her body, his fingers probed until he found just the right spot. She shuddered, and he lifted his head.
"I suppose it isn't fair to let you have all the fun," he said, and she felt a surge of triumph. She might be close to going crazy, but he was hardly unaffected himself. She felt him shift on the bed. He knelt between her legs, his muscular thighs pressing hers apart. He lowered himself gently, and she felt the probing of his shaft at cunt. It was huge, hot. The head felt as if it might split her apart.
Magnificent.
Slowly, steadily he pushed into her. He braced himself over her, sparing her his weight, and she whimpered. What would his chest feel like against her nipples? Was his chest hair soft or wiry? She could imagine the steady flexing of his butt, and wished her hands could cup him as he came into her.
Instead, she simply lay there, waiting for him to fill her. He didn't disappoint her. The tip of his cock bumped against her cervix as he bottomed out, and she sighed in relief. He started moving, each thrust scraping her clit, each stroke filling her completely. Embers of arousal, sparked to life by his evil feather, grew. He moved faster: she whimpered in satisfaction.
Sensation washed over her, building each time he filled her. It was getting harder and harder not to respond openly. Then realization hit her. As long as she didn'task him to make her come, she could respond all she wanted.
There was no reason not to enjoy his "punishment." Dionysus, whatever his character flaws, was a magnificent man. And therewas love in her actions; love for Kalliara and Sabiniano. Things were going to be all right.
Allowing herself to let go, she raised her legs and braced them against the bed, thrusting up at him and matching his stroke. He gave a groan, moving faster.
Again and again he came into her. They were silent, their breath coming in gasps, sweat building on their bodies. Aphrodite grew hot from the effort. She was coming closer and closer to orgasm; each stroke against her clit sent the agonizing spiral of arousal just a little bit higher. So close!
Clenching her muscles, she thrust against him like a madwoman. He responded by suddenly grasping her hips and raising her body, even as he rose to his knees. This new position allowed him to pound into her relentlessly, a man possessed. She screamed.
Any second, and her pleasure would wash over her. Just a little bit more…
He abruptly pulled out of her, allowing her lower body to flop to the bed.
She twisted, frustrated and confused.
"What the hell is wrong with you," she gasped. "I'm so close. You have to keep going."
"Beg me," he said, his voice cold.
"No," she gasped, twisting in desire. She tried to clench her legs together, create some kind of friction to end this terrible ache, but his hands were on her ankles.
"Beg me," he said again, his voice a chilling whisper.
"I won't beg," she gritted out, squirming madly.
He reached between her legs, tweaking her clit sharply. It sent a shockwave of need through her, and she cried out. Just as quickly, his touch was gone.
"Beg me," he said a third time. "Or I'll leave you here like this. I'll wait until you've calmed down, and then I'll come back and do the same thing to you again. Over and over and over."
She moaned, and he slapped her hip sharply. The light pain raced through her, and she whimpered. Every nerve was on fire. Every muscle begged for release.
She could hardly breathe.
Then his finger tweaked her clit again. She broke, whimpering.
"Please," she cried. "You've got to have pity on me. Make me come. Please, damn you!"
He laughed, and then his lips were covering her clit. He sucked hard, fingering her cunt wildly, and she shattered into a thousand pieces. She screamed so loud they had to hear her all across Olympus. It didn't matter.
Nothing mattered except the way he made her feel.
Blessedly, the tension had broken. She lay there, shattered, for ten or fifteen minutes, trying to control the gasping sobs that overtook her with the climax.
He stood. She could hear him moving around the room. Then he was untying her bonds, and lifting the blindfold off. He stepped away, leaving her sprawled on the bed.
She opened her eyes slowly, trying to focus.
"I think that went very well," he said, his voice cool and calm. She turned her head, finding him seated halfway across the room. He lounged in a chair, slowly stroking his still-rampant cock.
"You've won," she whispered, sitting up and rubbing her sore wrists. "Aren't you at least going to finish it now? You haven't come yet."
"Oh, it is finished," he said, still stroking himself lazily. "I find that I've lost interest in our little tryst. I have other things to think about.
For example, I need to choose Sabiniano's punishment. And perhaps I'll supervise Kalliara's execution myself…"
Hatred washed over Aphrodite, and she stood on the bed. She wanted to kill him; she wanted to scream. How had she allowed this to happen? She had failed her children. At that moment, something caught the corner of her eye.
It was that damn spider.
She snatched it off its web, holding it tightly in her hand. Dionysus leapt to his feet, his face white.
"Let her go," he said, his voice tight with strain. She laughed.
"I don't know why the hell you care about this creature," she hissed at him.
"But you've hurt my children, and don't like that very much. Bastard. I'm going to kill it. I'm going to squash your stupid spider between my fingers, and wipe its little body right here on your bed. I'm going to enjoy every second of it."
"No," he said, holding up one hand. He started toward her, but she raised her arm.
"Stop, or I'll do it right now," she said. "You can't get over here fast enough to stop me."
He stood there, his face filling with despair. Inspiration struck her.
"How much do you care about this spider?" she asked, her voice as cold and mocking as his had been earlier. "Do you care about it enough to bargain with me?"
He watched her; a muscle in his temple twitched. She crowed in delight.
"You do care enough to bargain," she said in triumph. "You care about a damn spider, don't you? Well, it's going to cost you."
"Let her go and we can talk," he said tightly. His eyes were filled with fury, but they were filled with fear, too. Aphrodite felt a surge of pleasure so strong it was almost sexual.
"You'll give Sabiniano and Kalliara to me," she said. "You'll give them to me, no strings attached, and I'll let your little spider go."