Aphrodite was fed up.
Not only was she the most beautiful and seductive of the Goddesses, born out of the beauty of the seas… but to be married to the most grotesque, homely and unmanly of the Gods! Hephaestus… she sneered her contempt at her absent husband. At the forge again! Oh, to be sure he was muscular enough on top, but with that gimp leg, blackened features and greasy hair… how was a Goddess of Love supposed to make THAT more attractive?
Besides, she tossed her floor length hair back as she sat nude at her mirror, she needed someone more masculine. Someone who could fill her lustful desires… not the milk-water love-makings of an inept cripple. Her breath quickened as she heard footsteps in the front room… he was here. By will power alone she made herself remain seated at the mirror, betraying nothing with her expression, watching majestically at the shadowed reflection of the man walking up behind her. Gold glinted in the soft light off the helmet on his head, brilliantly plumed with red, and the gold breastplate on his chest and shoulders; his footsteps were heavy and firm, and when his hands reached up to touch the soft skin of her shoulders they were callused and muscled.
She sucked in her breath as he reached down to cup her perfect breasts, fingers deftly twisting the nipples hard…
“Ares…” she whispered as he squeezed her flesh, her hands running up his muscled forearms. Ares, God of War – Hephaestus’ brother and a real man both in the bedroom and out.
The lusty God of War pulled her from her chair, holding her body tight against him as the armor scraped against her delicate skin. She cried out in pain as his mouth covered hers, her chest and nipples bruised against the hard metal; every particle of her being responded to the pleasure and the pain. Although she was the Goddess of Love, there was something about Ares’ contemptuous rough treatment that made him all the more attractive. There was no love from him… lust yes and desire, but the only love in their relationship was hers for him.
If only her son Eros was able to pierce Ares’ thick armor with his love-tipped arrows… but no. It didn’t matter anyway, Ares came to her anyway. Lusting after her beauty, her perfection, her body; he would never leave her. It was a devotion that many lovers could not expect.
Holding her with one arm, he divested himself of his armor and clothes. He never let her help although she longed to run her hands over his body, sliding the clothe from it… but arrogant Ares scorned to let her take any real part in their activities. Unlike Hephaestus.. So unlike her husband who did everything she asked. Ares took control, the way she wanted.
Pushing her back onto her marital bed, Ares stood over her in all his glory, a mighty Greek God with his spear at the ready. She moaned as he leaned over her, his dark face blazing with his desire for her body; his hands ran up her arms and pinned her wrists over her head as he sucked one cherry nipple into his mouth. Biting down on it roughly he made her gasp and arch, and as her back arched upwards he thrust forward, splitting open her body with one agonizing movement. Aphrodite screamed her passion as she opened for him, his meaty stick filling her completely, she writhed in front of him, like an animal in heat.
The only part of their affair that she regretted was her complete lack of control. She would love to fawn on him, climb over him, explore him, pleasure him… but Ares took his pleasure from her, demanding it from her body. It was why she adored him and what she hated most about him. Although she would lose interest after awhile if he allowed her control, she still craved it, just because he’d never let her have it.
That craving made for an interesting struggle, as she tried to move her hands and he pressed them down further into the bedding, his thrusts becoming brutal as his eyes glowered at her.
“Give in to me,” he hissed under his breath, dark eyes like fiery pits demanding her submission.
Aphrodite continued to struggle, screaming as he bit down on her other nipple… if she had been mortal he would have drawn blood with that bite. Although she didn’t say a word he could feel her giving in to him, she started to move more with him and her hands lay quiescent under his.
“Don’t move,” he ordered her as he pulled his hands away. She lay stretched out before him, the Goddess of Love and Beauty in all her magnificence… and all his again. Just as she was every afternoon, submitting to him, letting him take her over. It was a battle that he won again and again, possibly his favorite battle to fight. When it came to Love and War, Ares always won.
Putting his hands over her aching breasts, he squeezed them hard and she lay there, using them to pull himself in and out of her body. Aphrodite’s back arched and her hands clutched at the bedding, gasping breaths as he pumped harder and faster, her climax quickly growing.
She convulsed as she cried out in lustful ecstasy, even in the throes of her orgasm her hands stayed firmly above her head where he had placed them. He continued to pummel away at her body, taking every inch of her pleasure and magnifying it as he thrust. Their screams of ecstasy echoed throughout the empty house as he began to fill her with his Godly fluid, burning passion filled with all the things that made him. Aphrodite writhed in completion.
With a heavy groan, Ares fell forward, covering her body with his own. The moment their combined weight was on the bed, Hephaestus’ trap sprung. Both of them shrieked in surprise as they were airborne, a glowing golden net pulling them upwards so that they hung well above the bed. Ares shouted in surprise, struggling uselessly against his brother’s creation. They were well and truly caught, both in the net and with their bodies intertwined together… not only naked, but still with Ares’ spear inside her.
No matter how they struggled they couldn’t loosen themselves, or even change their position; and so they were strung up as one by one the other Gods and Goddesses came to witness (and mock) their plight, until Hephaestus came home to set them free.
Zeus then ruled that there would be no more relations between Ares and Aphrodite.
At first Aphrodite was very upset, meaning to defy the rule immediately, but her husband had his own way of gaining back her loyalty. The net had not been his only recent creation, he’d also made manacles which he used to chain her to a rack in his forge… for many days Aphrodite was no longer neglected during the daytime, and nor did she need wish for any man to control her. Hephaestus restricted her even more than her beloved Ares had, she spent many afternoons groaning with lust and fulfillment as her husband made use of her chained body.