by Nadia Aidan
* * * *
Lamia’s hair whipped violently about her face as she urged Zeus to go faster.
“Come on. Come on,” she yelled, trying to coax the stallion to pick up the pace.
Leaning forward, she grasped his mane tightly and dug her heels into his flanks.
“Faster, Zeus. Please,” she begged, her lungs burning with every frantic gulp of air she struggled to take in.
She didn’t need to turn around to know who was chasing her. She could feel his angry gaze burning the skin off her back. Still, she desperately wanted to turn her head, if only to gauge his distance. But she couldn’t afford to take her focus away from pressing the horse to go faster.
As the blistering sun blazed down upon her, she knew that it would only be a matter of time before he caught up to her. She’d been confident in the success of her escape…too confident.
In one moment she was sitting astride the galloping stallion and in the next she was wrenched off Zeus, only to remain suspended in the air, her body dangling above the ground. A startled scream rushed out of her and she winced in pain when her body collided with what felt like a crushing boulder, although she knew it was just the flank of Thanos’ horse. She barely had time to brace herself against Thanos’ mount before he abruptly released his hold on her, sending her flailing wildly to the ground with a loud thud.
“Ouch,” she cried as she crashed down, before rolling over to sit up. She had broken her fall with her hands and knees, scraping them in the process. Rubbing her palms across her chafed skin, she dusted away the dirt, trying to soothe the dull throb of pain from her scratches.
At the sound of footsteps, she lifted her head, her gaze colliding with stormy blue eyes swirling with fury.
“You promised. You gave me your word that you would not try to run.”
She thought of Darius, her need to avenge his death, and the fact that this Spartan still stood in her way. “I lied,” she spat out. “I lied, Spartan. I have no intention of going to Sparta with you.”
His entire expression hardened as he closed the distance between them, while she tried to widen it again, scooting backwards.
She had barely put a yard between them when his hand shot out to grasp her ankle, and he dropped down to his knees, jerking her roughly across the rocky and uneven ground, tugging her closer.
“Ouch, Spartan. Stop,” she protested as her barely covered backside scraped against the hard, arid earth beneath her.
Struggling wildly, she kicked her arms and legs out, slashing at anything in their path as she desperately fought to get away. She knew Thanos had taken several hard blows when her knuckles began to throb from what she could only guess were punches to his jaw.
But instead of relaxing his hold, his grip only tightened until he managed to drag her beneath him and cover her body with his own. He clasped her wrists in his hands, pinning her to the ground as he clamped her legs between his bulging thighs.
She struggled beneath him, twisting in every direction, but her resistance was futile, and eventually she yielded, relaxing into the solid earth, limp with exhaustion.
Frustrated tears burned the backs of her eyes, but he was not swayed as his expression darkened. “You will have much to cry about soon, agapetos,” he said harshly.
In one fluid motion he rolled off her, to rest on the ground in a seated position. Before she had gathered his purpose, he’d pulled her across his lap, her backside facing the sky.
He wouldn’t.
The steely glint in his eyes said otherwise
“No, Thanos. Please, do not do this,” she pleaded, using his given name this time, hoping it would endear her to him, but, just in case it didn’t, she resumed her desperate struggling.
He remained silent.
Grasping the fabric of her peplos in one hand, he wrenched it upwards, balling it at her waist, her ass now completely exposed.
She continued to kick and protest, but her efforts were wasted. Fury boiled inside her until her veins pumped with churning, hot lava. In all her twenty-eight annos, no one had ever spanked her. No one had ever dared. Not even Darius.
She swore worse than a tavernas whore when his first strike came, his hand slamming down against her buttocks. Her back arched instinctively, the sting of the blow jolting her entire body.
She cried out when another stinging blow came. But, as tears slipped from her eyes, she gave up yelling and simply tried to ignore the jagged needles of pain.
Thanos said nothing, although he continued to spank her…hard.
The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed across the barren plain as sharp arrows shot from her lower back to the rest of her body with each slap.
She expelled a shaky breath when he finally stopped, grateful that it was now over.
With a tenderness he’d not displayed moments ago, he cupped her buttocks, gently squeezing the soft, full globes, and she shivered when a new throbbing ache settled in the lower regions of her body.
His hand continued to stroke her rounded flesh, back and forth—massaging first, then lightly squeezing before gently stroking again.
A soft hiss forced its way past her lips when his finger dipped below her cheeks to slide through the now moist folds of her core.
It came away coated with her juices, glistening beneath the sunlight. “You’re wet, Lamia,” Thanos said softly and the deep gravel of emotion in his voice was unmistakable.
She tried to turn over to look at him, but he placed a palm against her back, gently nudging her down.
“Did you enjoy being spanked?” he asked, his finger lazily encircling the tiny nub at the mouth of her sheath.
A sharp breath pulsed in her chest, while a steady, unrelenting throb began to build between her legs.
“Did you, Lamia?” he demanded, emphasising his words with the press of his finger inside her.
She shook her head, balling her hands into tight fists. She refused to answer him, refused to reveal to him the truth because she was shamed by it. But his skilful hands were driving her mad, making her want to do things she’d never dreamed of. Of its own volition, her ass lifted to meet the shallow thrust of his finger, and she let out a deep moan.
“No,” she protested, needing to say something to make him stop or else he would continue his assault upon her senses, her body making a liar out of her.
“I think you’re lying, Lamia. I think you enjoyed being spanked.” She could tell he was smiling by the amused tone of his voice. The bastard. She would not admit the truth and give him the satisfaction of knowing that she had enjoyed it.
“N-no,” she managed to croak out, her traitorous hips now rocking in a steady rhythm, eagerly meeting each probing thrust of his finger.
“Then why are you so wet?” he groaned as he roughly shoved two fingers inside her.
Her answer was a deep, soul-stirring moan and she gasped when his hand suddenly slapped her ass.
She began to squirm against his lap. She was so close to coming she could feel herself on the edge of release and she strained towards it, another moan escaping her lips.
His hand came down hard again as he shoved his fingers deep inside her. A primal sound rose up out of her, and her hips now bucked furiously against him. She was so close, so close to release as the tremors quaked harder within her…
Lamia’s mouth fell open then, as her eyelids clenched shut and violent shudders thundered through her body. The wave inside her began to crest, but, before it could break apart and carry her away to blissful fulfilment, his hands stilled.
A strangled sob escaped her. “No. Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her hips lifting instinctively, desperately seeking out his hands—his fingers.
He chuckled softly, his palm stroking her soft, reddened cheeks, but not that place where she ached for him to touch more than anything else.
“You do not get to come, Lamia. You disobeyed me. So that is your punishment.”
She stiffened, his words slowly piercing the fog that had settled
in her lust-filled mind, her fury chasing away the last remnants of her arousal.
Whipping her head around, she speared him with her gaze. “Now I see why you are not yet wed, you twisted deviant. Who would ever wish to wed a man such as you?”
Out of frustration, she’d lashed out at him, but the tiny ember of pain she glimpsed in his eyes instantly had her regretting her harsh, rash words.
“Thanos, I did not mea—”
The rest of her apology caught in her throat as she was unceremoniously rolled from his lap and dumped on the hard ground.
Wariness settled in her gut when she glimpsed the tiny muscle in his jaw twitching uncontrollably. He shot to his feet and began to march towards the horses.
He’s going to leave me. Panic gripped her and her stomach tightened into knots at the thought that he would leave her out here alone with nothing. Without food or water or a horse, she would surely die—that was if the thieves that trolled the coast didn’t get to her first.
But, when he headed back over to her with a twine of rope in his hand, she decided she would rather he’d deserted her.
He is going to hang me.
She jumped to her feet and turned to run, but only managed two steps before his hand shot out, grabbing her around the waist. She struggled against him but he easily overpowered her, just as he’d done before. He spun her around to face him and, with his free hand, he clenched her wrists in his grasp.
She could try to run again, but she quickly abandoned that thought. As tight as his hold was on her, she would only manage one step this time, at the most. Lamia resigned herself to her fate. She’d survived Atallus only to die out here by the hands of the man she’d thought had saved her—
Thanos ripped her peplos down the middle to throw the tattered remnants to the ground—her first clue that maybe he was not going to kill her as she’d assumed. By the time he’d secured her wrists and ankles with the rope, Lamia was too shocked to do anything but stare at him, mouth agape. She’d been expecting to die, but he didn’t seem intent upon using the rope to hang her at all. When he was satisfied her restraints were secure, he gently lowered her to the ground onto her knees, her hands behind her back.
Her face flushed with embarrassment as his gaze leisurely roamed over her nude body, now openly displayed before him. With her hands tied as they were, her breasts jutted forth, the large, brown nipples standing to attention.
His eyes fixated on her breasts and he began to stroke his cock through his leather pteryges. Had it been any other man, the entire display would have been perverse and lewd. That it wasn’t—that she experienced the hot press of desire and not revulsion—caused her cheeks to burn with heat. She lowered her gaze to the ground, mortified that, when it came to Thanos, she knew no shame.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice ragged.
Her gaze snapped to his face.
Hunger. Hunger and longing scorched in his hooded gaze, and her heart stuttered in her chest at the intensity she glimpsed in those blue depths, along with the same desperate need clawing inside her own body.
“Do you want to know why I am not yet wed, Lamia?”
She shook her head. Truly, she did not want to know at all. She had a feeling that his revelation did not bode well for her. And yet she was curious…
He moved closer, his eyes never leaving her as he undid the laces of his pteryges, his fingers unhurried.
“I like a woman with spirit, a fire in her. A woman who is my equal in every way…except in our bedchamber.” His last words came out as little more than a hoarse whisper, but she’d heard them quite clearly, and her eyes grew wide when the meaning of them began to sink in.
“Do you understand what I am saying, Lamia?”
She nodded stiffly, wary of what he would say next, what other intimate details he would reveal.
Slowly he removed his long, thick cock from the confines of his pteryges, the mushroom head already glistening with a tiny pearl of liquid arousal.
“And do you know why I wish to wed you, Lamia?” he asked thickly as he began to stroke his hand up and down, pumping his ruddy flesh.
She fixated on his engorged length, the purplish head, the blue veins running along his swelling shaft. Her cunt began to throb with her need to seize his hard length within her channel and wring him of every last drop of seed he possessed.
He stepped closer to slip one finger beneath her chin, forcing her hungry gaze from his cock to his face. He smiled knowingly, and her face grew hotter at the look in his eyes. That was when she remembered he’d asked her a question, and she’d failed to answer. He knew. He knew she wanted him, desired him, longed for him as she’d longed for no other. No matter how much she tried to deny him with her lips, he knew her body ached for him.
A denial hovered on her lips but she was powerless to speak it, just as she was powerless to answer the question that still lingered between them as lust and desire hammered inside her, making every breath an arduous one. Yet, even if she physically could form a response, Lamia decided only Thanos was the one who could truly furnish such an answer. For only he knew why he wished to wed her.
“I desire to wed you, Lamia, because I believe you to be that woman,” Thanos said gently.
That woman? A woman who is my equal in every way…except in our bedchamber. Submit to a man in bed when she’d never submitted to a man in anything before? She shook her head. Thanos was wrong about her.
“Thanos, I… I do not think—”
“Shhh, agapetos. Words are not necessary, for your body shall soon reveal the truth.”
With his finger still beneath her chin, he shifted his hips, bringing his cock closer until the very tip of him was poised at the entrance of her mouth.
“Suck it,” he commanded softly.
Her gaze climbed his body until their eyes met.
She battled against Thanos’ command, wanting a taste of him but afraid to give in to him, knowing he would think she enjoyed his dominance over her when she did not.
He repeated his command and this time she opened her mouth at the same instant Thanos slid his hard shaft between her lips. She told herself that just because she’d obeyed him did not mean she was of a submissive nature—she was simply driven by her desires, nothing more.
He groaned, the harsh, ragged sound vibrating through her as his hand gripped the back of her head, tangling in the coiled locks of her hair.
She wrapped her lips securely around him and sucked hard, taking him deep into her mouth, letting the tip graze against the back of her throat. Her gaze never left his face. Back and forth, she bobbed her head, working her mouth furiously at sucking him.
White hot lashes of pleasure whipped across her skin at the feel of his iron-hard length beneath silken flesh powering between her lips. She wanted to feel ashamed. She was naked and bound on her knees before a man she barely knew, allowing him to do things to her she’d never allowed a man to do before. Thanos’ words haunted her in that moment and she worried he’d spoken the truth. Was she a woman who enjoyed a man’s dominance? She’d never considered it before. But then she’d never met a man such as Thanos, who had the ability to bring her to the brink of arousal with just one look, a single caress, a softly spoken word against her heated skin.
She moaned around his thrusting length at the thought of Thanos coaxing carnal responses from her body, introducing her to the ways of lovemaking, then branding her, claiming her as his own.
Thanos. His…
Belonging to him and only him.
Her heart contracted, the very thought slicing her open and leaving her raw and vulnerable, but in its wake came a desperate longing to belong to someone, to have him belong to her. The ache, the need—it settled in her breast, and lent a passionate fervour to her wet strokes up and down his cock that had not been there before.
“Fuck, Lamia,” Thanos groaned as he cupped her head with both hands, his fingers digging into her scalp, to tunnel his cock deeper.
Sh
e swirled her tongue around the thick base of his length before she shifted back to run it across the slit in the centre of the head, lapping eagerly at the droplets of seed gathered there. The metallic taste of him exploded on her tongue—salt and desire—and she closed her eyes, wanting to savour his unique flavour. She wanted to experience all of him—his taste, his touch, his smell. Lamia inhaled deeply, trapping the scent of leather and sweat—the scent of Thanos—within her lungs.
Opening her eyes, she let his cock slip from her stretched mouth to flick her tongue around the crown before dipping under the sensitive fold of skin.
“Lamia,” he grunted her name, the feral sound slipping past clenched teeth, and she knew his release was imminent as he began to tremble. With his hands still desperately clutching her head, his eyelids drifted shut and his head rolled back on his shoulders, the pulsing blue veins in his neck bulging beneath sun-bronzed skin.
She hummed against his pounding, hot shaft, letting the vibrations slide over him, forcing a violent shudder to rock his entire body. Already treading thin, his control disappeared with a blinding rush as he pumped his hips and held her head firmly, feeding her more and more of his cock. She strained to take him deeper, struggling with the girth and length of him.
“Wider, agapetos. Open your mouth wider and take it deeper,” he begged. “Take me down your throat.”
The hoarse plea trembling out of him spurred her. Flicking her tongue back and forth over the head of his cock, she descended upon his shaft on a single swallow and sucked furiously, taking him further and further until her throat quivered along the tip of his shaft.
Thanos’ hips thrust back and forth, his cock surging inside her mouth and Lamia relaxed her jaw as his fingers stiffened in her hair and every muscle in his body tensed. A loud roar erupted from his lips at the same time that hot spurts of his seed shot into her mouth.
She swallowed his warm essence down her throat until Thanos wrenched his cock from her mouth and, with his hand curled tightly around his still spewing shaft, pumped hard and fast, spraying the last of his release across her breasts.