It was with stunning revelation that Moira found herself face to face with the God of Darkness, Erebus. In fact, she cursed herself inwardly, he had been on his knees lavishing her ass with sumptuous attention before she rejected him for a mere mortal! Gods!

The party around them whirled on, an fantastic orgy of unprecedented proportions, oblivious to the menace standing in their midst. All around were mortals bound in the spell of Dionysus. They were eagerly partaking in perverted acts so unacceptable in their pathetically righteous culture, the spell simply unbinding them from their restrictive upbringing to allow them to indulge in their forbidden fantasies. Even her sister in the dark arts, Guinevere, was blissfully ignorant as she rode a baby-faced college prep boy into rapture.

Moira didn’t know what she was to do, what to say. All she knew was that her life was hanging by a scant thread; at the whim of a god well known for his volatility. He was a stunning specimen of masculinity, and Moira felt her body respond even as she wilted under his impenetrable stare.

“And what,” she asked softly, hoping that her supplicating behavior would diffuse the danger she was in, “may this insignificant witch do for her Lord?”

He snorted most inelegantly, “Insignificant? Oh, my dear Moira, I think not.”

Surprise had her eyes lifting to his face, and she saw there such raw lust that she nearly came from his gaze alone. Hidden behind it, though, she recognized a sliver of respect. Her spine straightened in a semblance of its usual confidence, and she looked fully upon the god whose eye she had apparently caught. “No?”

An eyebrow rose and his head ducked down. “Definitely not,” he growled low in his throat, and Moira’s body tingled in anticipation.

Breathlessly, Moira braved, “What am I then, my Lord?”

He crowded in on her, forcing Moira to back away until her thighs ran up against the back of a low couch. Strong arms straddled her slender form, and he leaned in until all she could see were his magical golden eyes. His lips brushed up against hers seductively as he spoke a single word that set her afire, “Mine.”

With that he took her mouth with a possessive kiss. His lips were punishing and hard, his tongue unmerciful as it swept in her mouth to plunder the sweet secrets within. Moira gave way to his domination, opening herself to him in a way she had never before for any man. Her arms rose of their own accord, and snaked around his neck. She pressed herself shamelessly against the solid plane of his body. His barely leashed power hummed in the air that surrounded them, and Moira’s body responded to its silent demand.

She burned like never before; deliciously tortured through a game of her own creation. Erebus sipped from her mouth as if it were ambrosia -- the nectar of the gods, sustaining the everlasting -- drinking heavily and greedily. His tongue laved deeply, with long, confident strokes that had her body weeping to have the same such attention. In one instance, he pulled the very breath from her lungs ‘til she was standing on the very brink of plummeting willingly into his Dark abyss. But then he exhaled into her the very breath of the divine, and Moira felt giddy with wondrous life and pure and unadulterated power she had never before possessed. It was beyond exhilarating, the gift he gave her. No words could ever begin to express the feel of the Gods running through her veins. Moira reveled in it, pulling the power about her like a heavy velvet cloak, and she rubbed her body sinuously against its sultry fluidity.

“Forever.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Swear it!”

“I am yours, forever.” And with that pledge, Moira’s words shattered in a million golden shards. She felt herself shudder and quake from the force of their promise. Her softly spoken vow echoed through her body, igniting every nerve and sensation until Moira was screaming in ecstasy at the never ending bombardment of absolute pleasure.

How she could have lived so long and not understood such joy was beyond her. Not that it mattered anymore, for even then, Erebus was turning her about and leaning her over the back of the couch. He kneed her legs far apart and placed each hand so that she looked a great eagle soaring on the highest of currents. With but a flick of his fingers, her tightly bound corset fell from her torso, and her breasts swung free like a pair of heavy pendulums marking each staccato beat of her heart. He tugged at the delicate skirt that barely swathed her legs, and a long tear rasped loudly in her ears. The silky fabric puddled at her high heeled feet and all that was left to cover her nonexistent modesty was a pair of sheer stockings held just above her knees by the tenuous ribbons of a lacy white garter.

Erebus took her by the hips and drew her backwards so that her ass was plumped high like a heart-shaped temptation. Moira had never felt so exposed, never so vulnerable as she did forced to stand so with a god who immersed himself in the sinful and obscene. Though she had always tended toward such tendencies herself, she suddenly knew that he would take her beyond what invisible lines she had drawn. His strong hands caressed each cheek with reverent strokes, sliding over every arch and slipping between dark crevices.

Moira let out a shuddering breath when she felt that oh so clever tongue working dizzying whorls down her spine. He spent careful attention skimming his luscious lips lightly over the small of her back before lowering himself to the floor. Her ass rising like high mounds above his head, he feasted upon every inch of it with his hot mouth.

Once he had consumed each curve, his tongue delved into the cleft of her ass, and Moira thrilled to the sensations that swept like a hot fire over her. He circled the tightly puckered flower that was usually hidden in the darkness, now desperate for his nourishing affections. And like a flower blossoming under the loving care of the hot spring sun, Moira flourished under his enticingly hot mouth.

Low moans sounded from deep in her throat, punctuated by an occasionally pleading “yes!” that was followed by a satisfied sigh when Erebus lavished a place of particular tenderness. Her hips moved with his roving tongue, rocking back and forth, prolonging its touch before he moved on to the untouched.

She stood immobile, but for the gentle swaying of her hips, her body frozen with a tension that was taut with strain. Moira’s mouth pined for her lover’s persuasive flavor, her skin tingled disconsolately where it was once touched by him. Her breasts were swollen with lust and her nipples elongated as if begging for attention. Her pussy dripped the hot juice of her desire, tracing gleaming trails down her long legs. Nevertheless, Erebus ignored everything but her ass, touched her nowhere but where the very tip of his searing tongue chanced to sample. The very core of her being cried out to be filled, to have the thick proof of his need for her sheathed to the very hilt. She needed to be invaded by him, impaled and completely possessed.

As if reading her mind, or perhaps her body, Erebus withdrew his tongue and stood up. A hand at the back of her neck kept her in place, and he bowed over her ’til his lips brushed softly against her ear. He cupped her mons, and Moira groaned. “This is man’s instinctive compulsion. He enters and inhabits it, filling it with his mortal filth as he pumps like a sweating boar over you. When he leaves, it is soiled from his feeble and useless attempt at immortality.” Moira shuddered at the sordid image Erebus painted, and wondered how she ever sought out the repulsive touch of man. “Let them fill it whenever you wish; take their life, for they do not deserve the miserable few years granted them. Gift them with the momentary pleasure denied to most, for there is no reason to deny yourself even the most transitory of pleasures.”

Then both his hands slid to cup her ass in a unyielding, selfish grasp. He spread the cheeks and slid a finger over her budding flower. “This, however, is mine, and none may enter her but your god, Erebus.” The finger pushed carefully within the puckered fissure, and Moira gasped at the unexpected intrusion. “Mine to fill, mine to inhabit, mine to soil with the seed of the divine. Only I shall pump into here, only I shall sweat over you as I take my pleasure in this tight little ass.”

He emphasized each word with brief, shallow thrusts, and Moira found herself eagerly thrusting her hips back to draw him in entirely. The tension that had been building from his earlier laboring was strumming dangerously as he slid his finger deeper and deeper. His declaration was imperiously tyrannical and Moira was electrified by the thought of this god’s domination over her very body.

“And you,” he continued in his melodiously titillating voice, “I will give you such fantastic pleasure. Every time I enter you, you will come, every caress will make you scream from sensations so indescribably exquisite. You will be famished for the very taste of my kisses, and to touch my body will drive you wild for more.”

He pulled his finger from her, and Moira wanted to cry, so barren she felt. Yet, before she could plead for the return of his intoxicating touch, the silky soft head of his shaft pressed firmly against the bud of her ass. Where she was tender and vulnerable, he was hard and uncompromising. The heavy weight of his balls slapped softly against her thighs as he positioned himself for the conquering.

He took a lock of her hair and wound it around his fist, forcing her head back. “And when I come within you, my dear witch, you will truly know the addiction of ambrosia.” And with that, he plowed into her. With a single, powerful thrust, he was seated to the very base within her body. Moira’s pained cry was ignored as he forced his way, stretching her beyond endurance, taking her to the brink of sanity. And with a suddenness that surprised her, the pain was replaced with a pleasure that caused Moira’s body to shudder and quake, convulsing with violent intensity.

Erebus steadily pounded himself into the turbulence, riding her as she bucked back against him. The crushing ferocity of her euphoria strangled his rod, pulling the silvery liquid of his very divinity from his body. He resisted the urge to release, not wanting to allow this woman even the smallest bit of control over him, but to no avail. He exploded, painting her brilliantly from within in silver, her euphoria turning into his own as he was devoured by the essence of Moira.