Trent Laster knew he shouldn’t go out. Despite the sultry lure of a perfect summer evening, he told himself he was going to have a nice quiet night with his television. After a shower, he slouched into a robe and settled into the corner of his leather couch, remote in one hand, a glass of single malt scotch in the other. It wasn’t his fault the first thing that appeared on his giant flat screen was a luscious woman. He got that feeling again. The ache in his cock. The pain he couldn’t identify.
He tried to ignore it. He relived the scene with his boss, who’d threatened to fire him if he blew any more deadlines. This time it was a Brazilian flight attendant with a pussy so sweet he didn’t care about anything else so long as he could still put his face there.
His plan backfired. The image of his angry boss was replaced by the wide smooth lips of the Brazilian beauty. She was long gone. He’d never see her again, but he’d feel better if he could lay his hands on some more soft skin. Suckle the perfect bud of a nipple, hear the adorable squeak of a woman as he made her come.
He always made them come.
As he walked into his closet, he ran a hand along all his pricey bespoke suits. In a vague way, he knew all his fine things would go away if he didn’t get his head back into the game, professionally speaking, but he couldn’t get himself to care. Not deep down.
He dressed in jeans, a crisp white shirt and an expensive teal jacket. He knew the color brought out his blue eyes. Women let him fuck them based on his eyes alone. His abs and his ass and his big, giant dick were a bonus. He’d be fucking someone before the night was out. The places he went, everyone was looking for the same thing.
This night he went for classy. A quiet speakeasy in Santa Monica with a floor to ceiling view of the Pacific and an extensive selection of rare whiskeys. The Brazilian had been a rough and tumble sort. He was in the mood for refinement.
When he entered, the sight of a woman at the bar stopped him dead. The edges of his vision blurred, as if he was looking at her through a camera and had adjusted the lens to focus only on her. He realized he was holding his breath.
She sat on the dark wood barstool like it was licking her pussy, her legs spread, her back arched. Her skin glowed in the warm light, the shade of light coffee, fresh against the deep brown of her dress. High cheekbones and a regal nose framed the most extraordinary pair of eyes he’d ever seen. Wide set, enormous, of a color that seemed to move from green to caramel to gold as she brought her full lips to sip her drink. When her head moved her cherry red hair fell across her shoulder, bringing her eyes back to green.
Trent stared at her. He couldn’t believe she was real. The color of her eyes and hair was so extraordinary she seemed augmented by the CGI software he spent his days developing. Was she flesh? His mind spun off into a fantasy of crushing his face to her neck, licking her sweat while he fucked her, as she cried out his name.
He tore his eyes away when someone entering the bar pushed past. He noticed he wasn’t the only one staring at her, yet she drank alone.
Not for long.
He walked over. His feet felt like wooden clubs.
“I notice you’re a scotch fan,” he said in a querulous voice. What the fuck was up with his voice? “I am too. May I join you? We can argue the merits of our favorite single malts.”
She smiled and leaned back as she rotated her stool towards him, her legs still spread, her dress tight against strong thighs. He gazed into the shadows between them and parted his lips. She smiled.
“All right. But I’ll win the argument.”
“Oh, you’re so sure of that, are you?”
Motioning to the bartender, Trent slipped onto the stool beside her.
“What are you having?”
“Ardbeg Uigeadail.” She wrapped her lips around the pronunciation of the last word “oog-a-dal,” like she was wrapping them around his cock, which pressed against his jeans, desperate to get to her.
“Good choice. I’ll have that, too.”
“I thought we were supposed to argue.” Her rich alto gently mocked him.
“Now that I’ve heard your voice, I don’t think I’m capable of arguing with you.”
She laughed, warm and lilting. He sighed. He actually sighed with longing loudly enough for her to hear. Some player he was. The bartender delivered the scotch. Trent snatched up the tumbler of rich amber liquid and took a gulp.
“Tsk, tsk. You should never gulp ‘oog-a-dal.’”
There went her lips again. “I know. You have me flustered. Um, ah, I’m Trent. What’s your name?”
“Persephone,” she said.
Trent grinned. He could tell she liked it. Women always told him his smile was like sunshine. “What a perfect name. I have no doubt Hades would risk everything for you.”
“You know the myth.”
In Greek mythology, Persephone was the daughter of Demeter, goddess of the harvest. Hades, Lord of the Underworld, fell in love with Persephone. He spirited her away to his realm of the dead. Demeter was so stricken with grief that she caused the earth to grow hard and cold, to end its life-giving abundance. Zeus, Demeter’s husband and king of all the gods, knew that everything and everyone would perish unless Demeter was reunited with her beloved daughter, but Hades would not let her go. Finally, they reached a compromise. For six months each year, Persephone would remain with Hades. Then, she would return to her mother. When Demeter could see her beloved daughter again, the earth would warm, soften, and once again burst forth with life.
“Hades didn’t risk anything,” Persephone said. “He made humanity pay the price of his desire.”
The way she said desire made Trent forget where he was. Blood pounded in his head.
“I would pay any price for you,” he whispered. Then he gave an embarrassed laugh. “What the hell did I just say? My god, I’m sorry. I don’t usually lay it on so thick.” He felt stupid. She smiled at him indulgently, the lights from Santa Monica Pier twinkling behind her.
“Really,” Trent insisted. “I’m usually more in control of myself with women.”
“I believe you. You walked right up to me like you’re used to getting what you want.” He looked down to hide his smile. Why was he acting like a hormonal teenager?
“I am too, you know,” she said. He raised his head to meet her eyes.
“Used to getting what I want.”
“Only a fool wouldn’t believe that.”
She pursed her plum-colored lips in an adorable smirk. She leaned toward him, setting her hand on his upper arm. “Then give me what I want.” Her mouth was so close to his ear that he could feel her moist breath.
“Whuh, what do you want?” Trent could barely hear himself.
“I want you to lick my pussy.” She pulled back. Her eyes were filled with mischief. He nearly fell into her.
“My god, yes.” He leaned closer to her, barely able to keep his hands off her. “I won’t stop, oh, never, to taste you,” he whispered. Part of him was vaguely aware that this was not normal, but his cock was so engorged he could barely think. Maybe she would drug him and rob him. If he only got to kiss her, it would be worth it.
Persephone placed her hand lightly on his chest. “There are rules. You will not touch me other than to eat me. No kissing, no fucking. You will please me the way I want to be pleased. You will do whatever I say. Do you accept these rules?”
“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate to accept this strange, dangerous invitation. Maybe his boss was right. He was a sex addict.
They left and drove in his car to her place, a cottage in the Malibu Hills filled with antique furniture and vibrant paintings of fields and meadows and mountains.
“These are lovely,” Trent said. “Did you paint them?”
“Yes.” She tilted her head, her lovely eyes crinkling with pleasure at the compliment. She took his hand and led him to an atrium at the back of the cottage, jam-packed with thick plants, the stars visible through the glass ceiling. She pushed him down into a chair, switched on a lamp and began to hum. The sound reminded him of a recording he had heard once. Some engineers had sunk a microphone deep into the earth’s core and it rumbled with a tone at once powerful and comforting.
Persephone took off her dress as he watched, making a show of it, her arms moving in graceful arcs. Trent couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even shut his mouth. He watched her defined muscles flex as she stepped out of the dress. Her wine-colored lingerie looked so inviting. When she grabbed one bra strap and uncovered a perfect velvet mound of breast, he groaned. The sight of her chocolate nipple filled his mouth with saliva. She made a slight sound. He became insanely happy at the thought that his lust was pleasing her. She finished removing her bra and swayed as she slipped off her panties. When she straightened he feasted his eyes on the curve of her hips, the lines of her creamy thighs, the patch of cherry hair that turned coppery when it caught the light. He trembled.
Trent almost ran to her, but she held up a hand. She sat on an elaborate wooden chair. She swept one delicate foot to the left, the other to the right, and slid to the edge of the chair. She leaned back displaying a pussy like a ripe blood orange, glistening dusky pink and succulent. Trent fell off the chair onto his knees.
“No, not yet, my sweet, precious man. Stand up.”
“Now, come here.”
He stepped to stand in front of her.
“On your knees.” He dropped immediately. She placed her hand on his head.
“Lick me. Be soft. Start slowly.”
He moved his mouth toward her, anticipation sending shivers down his spine, her scent heavy around him. He licked his lips then made a pass along her clit, as gently as he could. She wriggled.
Trent’s heart pounded with glee. She liked his touch! She was so sweet, so sweet. He licked her again and again. He drew his tongue between her folds, murmuring. Sweet cream and salted butter. He had never tasted anything so delicious. He could hardly stop from smashing his face into her magic pussy, from fucking her with his tongue. He groaned and returned to licking her clit, rapidly now. Persephone squirmed.
“Oh, precious man, you’re so good.” She grabbed his hair and pushed him into her, her thighs clamping onto his head. Her body undulated. It was just what he wanted. His buried his face. Her pelvis thrust forward. He sucked and licked and probed, feeling her hot blood through her skin. He plunged his tongue inside her. He wanted to crawl inside her.
Persephone moaned, a high, delicate sound. “Oh, Trent, suck my clit. Suck it and lick it, yes, yes, oh, soft and wet and slow now, precious, with your whole mouth. Kiss me. Kiss my clit.”
Trent came in his pants, his hips jerking so spasmodically that his mouth briefly left her pussy. He splayed forward, desperate to be on her again. She was building. He wanted her to come. He wanted to drink it, rub it all over his face. Oh god, he wanted her to come for him. He moved to grab her thighs so he could crush her to him, but she slapped his hands away.
“No touching.” she said. He groaned with frustration. “Lick me again. Soft and slow, and I’ll come for you.” Persephone’s voice took on a sing-song quality. “Lick me like silk on a rose petal. Then you can drink from me.”
Inhaling deeply of her buttery scent, Trent straightened and applied his tongue again. He lapped up her juices and sucked on her clit.
“Oh, precious, I didn’t know it would be liked this. Oh, oh, put your hands on me, bring me to you.”
Trent grabbed her thighs and pushed his face into her pussy as she clamped onto him. She shouted and began to thrash as the most exquisite honeyed liquid Trent had ever encountered came pouring out of her. He drank and he drank. He got higher and higher as a surge of power engulfed him, starting in a ball at the base of his spine and radiating outward. Persephone was still coming.
“Drink me, drink, feel me.” She trailed off and began to whimper, her body shuddering.
When she had finished, Trent stayed between her legs, drinking and sucking to get the last bit of her that he could. Persephone hummed her song of the earth’s core. When he was finally sated he stood, stretching. He felt ten feet tall. He felt made of steel. She couldn’t have drugged him. She hadn’t offered him a drink. Did she put a drug inside her pussy? Her magic, delicious, beautiful pussy? Oh, Persephone.
She smiled, radiant, with heavy-lidded eyes. Then she stood as well, and stroked his cheek. He leaned his head into her hand.
“Don’t you feel good?”
“I feel better than I ever have in my life.”
“The why are you questioning me?” The strain of disapproval in her voice wounded him. He vigorously shook his head. Why was he acting like this? Feeling like this?
“What did you do to me?”
Persephone wrapped her lovely arms around his neck. He watched her high, plump breasts press against his chest. He longed to kiss the chocolate bud of her nipple. Why couldn’t he? Oh, please, Persephone.
“Do you want to fuck me?” she whispered.
Trent shuddered. “Yes, please, yes. I want to fuck you. Please, let me put my dick in you.”
“I have an offer,” she said, her voice silky low. She pulled him to her lips and hesitated, her sweet, beautiful mouth almost brushing his. Trent started to babble.
“Kiss me, kiss me, don’t deprive me, please, please, I will do anything for you, touch me, touch me.” He knew she had done something strange to him but he was helpless, like his old self was pinned to the frame of the glass ceiling above.
Persephone ran her tongue slowly along his lip. He came in his pants again, groaning. She unbuckled his belt, unzipped him. She felt him and he nearly fell down.
“Sweet thing,” she said. “I want you to be comfortable.” Then she kissed him, taking his tongue in her mouth and sucking, sucking so good, so warm. His hardness returned even though it shouldn’t have been possible.
“I want to hold you.”
He squeezed her with such passion that his heart threatened to burst. She leaned into him, let him take her. He ventured deep into her mouth, concentrating on the feel of her body against him, his eyes closed. A blinding golden light appeared under his lids. He opened his eyes, confused. They were no longer in Persephone’s cottage.
They stood on a dusty plain, watching men slaughter each other. The men wore sandals, layered armor and plumed helmets. The blood-covered warriors hacked at each other with thick swords.
“Where are we? What the fuck is happening to me,” Trent shouted.
“My precious man, please. I would never let anything happen to you,” Persephone said, drawing his mouth to her for a gentle kiss. He quieted.
“This is a battle in the Second Peloponnesian War,” she said. “This is what my kind used to do when we wanted to rid the earth of large numbers of humans. We would foment mass violence. But now, humanity’s instruments of war are too indiscriminate. Now, the tools of war would harm our mother.”
“What are talking about?” Trent said, his voice weak. “What do you mean, ‘Your kind’?”
“I am a Goddess of Gaia. We protect the earth mother. The time has come for us to once again perform our duty. Human beings have become a cancerous growth on her body.”
The dusty plain of war disappeared. They stood on an overpass. Heat rose in boiling waves from the packed highway below, filled with exhaust spewing cars and trucks as far as the eye could see. Beyond the highway stood on a coal-fired power plant, a jumble of pipes, buildings and tanks spotted with sickly yellow lights. Sulphurous fumes hung in the air. Stacks belched oily smoke in thick, black plumes.
“This is what you have done,” Persephone said. Her voice cracked with sadness but her eyes held rage.
They stood on the bank of a sluggish brown river that ran between jagged karst hills. Upstream, a factory sounded a steady churning. An effluent pipe hung over the river. A wide stream of gooey liquid in fluorescent green fell to the muddy water below and spread out, forming a sinister flower. Dead fish bobbed against the bank. Trent gagged at the stink and was appalled to see birds swoop down on the poisoned fish.
“The birds. They don’t know any better.” He started to cry. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He was no tree hugger. He glanced at Persephone, embarrassed, but saw that she was crying too.
“This is what humans have done. Gaia has spoken. At least 2 billion humans must die. In times past we might send pestilence, if not war, but disease is indiscriminate as well. The poor are taken and the strong and wicked escape or even profit. We want to try something different.”
“Are you—” Trent couldn’t get the words out, but he wasn’t frightened. He was upset that she viewed him as such a worthless thing. “Are you going to kill me?”
Persephone’s warm gaze seemed to pull him towards her. They were back in her cottage. “No, my precious man. I have chosen you to be my avenger. That power you feel? I gave it to you, and you can have more.” Her smile was radiant and hungry. “If you fuck me, you will become an immortal Blade of Gaia, one of legions commanded by the goddesses. You will leave the life you know behind to become Gaia’s servant. You will excise the cancer. You will love me. Each day you will kill the humans I tell you to kill. Vile humans. Greedy, venal, drunk with power. Others humans who are stupid and useless.”
Persephone leaned toward him. “Do you want to fuck me?” she whispered. She slipped her hand inside Trent’s open zipper. He groaned, unable to question what she had just told him as his cock ached to feel her.
“Please. Yes, I need to.”
“Do you understand what this means?”
“I don’t care, I don’t care. I’ll rip out the throats of a thousand men. Please let me inside.” He seized her, grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. “Be mine, mine, oh, please, ah—” He babbled incoherently.
With a light chuckle, Persephone loosened his grasp. She walked gracefully towards a hallway and disappeared into its shadows.
“Follow me, precious, to my bed.”
When she was out of sight, Trent shook his head violently. Some part of him was aware that he had gone crazy. His therapist had tried to put him on meds once. Said he was in denial about his lifelong depression, his untouchable loneliness. Trent had refused. He preferred to court disaster. He guessed this was it. He was caught in a full blown delusion, but he was going to fuck that beautiful woman. He didn’t care if she cooked and ate his liver when they were done. He followed her.
The bedroom was also open to the stars, with glass walls and a ceiling reinforced by wire that glinted here and there. Trent couldn’t see Persephone, but then she emerged from a behind a billowing curtain that looked silver in the moon and starlight. She was still naked, and he admired the warm glow of her skin, present even among the blue tones of the room. Persephone placed a hand on his chest, her mischievous air replaced by gravity.
“Have you made your decision, precious man?”
Her lips glistened. As they moved, he yearned to have them on his own lips, on his cock.
“I’m not sure it’s really a decision. I don’t know what’s happening to me. All I know is, I will do anything for you. To fuck you, I’ll kill for you, worship you, die for you.”
She kissed him. He snaked his arms around her and she made a light noise. She liked his touch! He got harder than he thought was possible. Persephone took off his shirt, then guided him to the bed. She pushed him back so he was spread before her. She slid off his pants, glided up. She hovered over his cock and delicately cupped his balls, which made him groan and writhe. She ran her tongue along the length of him and briefly covered his tip with her succulent lips. He clutched the bed sheets, blood pounding in his dick so forcefully it was painful.
“Mmmmm, precious, you have a beautiful cock. So smooth.”
Persephone mounted him. For a few moments she swirled on top of him, his cock in her hand, using it to rub her clit and tease her opening. Trent shuddered and moaned, loudly, needing to ram into her, on fire with it, but he knew he should wait. It was more than intuition. It was like Persephone was in his head, telling him that she would show him how to fuck her. That this was the beginning of so much wonderful, wonderful fucking.
Tears seeped from Trent’s eyes as Persephone took him inside her. Oh, she was tight. He felt her grip his length, her creamy scent surrounding them. She moved slowly, but when he had filled her she jerked her hips forward and took him deep.
“Fuck me back, you stellar man.”
Trent exploded into motion and force. He placed his big hands on her hips and rolled into her, sliding forward so he could connect his feet with the floor. Then he flipped her, perched her on the edge of the bed and pounded into her, holding her ass, pushing her to him, settling into a rhythm of thrust, shake, recede, thrust, shake, recede. This was what Trent did best. He could always please them. He was desperate to please her.
The blue light fell over the perfect creature on his dick. Her arms were spread. They swayed each time he plunged into her as deep as he could go. Her head hung back and her mouth was open. She grunted as their bodies slapped together.
“My blade. Find it. Take it.” With these words, she grabbed his hips, swirling and thrashing, adding her strength to the force of their fucking. Trent was building, building, swollen and sensitive, but he wanted to control himself. He wanted to see her shatter.
“Please, goddess, come to me. I need it.”
With a sound like a jungle coming to life in the dawn, Persephone shuddered. Her body rippled on Trent’s cock. He let go, injecting himself. He squeezed his eyes shut as his hips spasmed. He saw images of rich red flowing, of golden light, of buds on trees and flowers. Persephone didn’t speak, but her body told him he could stay. His back arched and he yelled as power flowed into him. He felt gigantic. He felt like he could smash a city.
Persephone grew still. When he finished luxuriating in his new power, she drew him down to her and kissed him, sucking tenderly on his tongue while lightly sighing.
“Lay on me. I want to feel your pressure,” she said.
He flattened himself on top of her and pressed his face to her neck.
“I love you, Persephone.”
“I know, precious. You can’t help but love me. You are a Blade of Gaia, sworn to me.”
He stroked her cheek. His tears dampened her skin. “Are you mine?” He could hear that he sounded like a pleading little boy. He had no shame anymore.
The goddess guided him off her body. She rolled onto her side and rubbed her shapely legs together. “Ooooh, I feel good.” She stretched, but then seemed to remember she had something to say.
“I can’t be yours, precious. Not entirely. I will create many more blades. It is my duty. But you are my first, and special to me.”
“No, goddess, I don’t want anyone else to touch you.” He grabbed her shoulders and brought his face close to hers. She caressed his cheek.
“Poor sweet man, it doesn't work that way.” Her voice was sad. He found some comfort in this. “But you are my first. Together we will make a fearsome team that will rid the earth of vermin. And I am not lying when I say you are special to me.”
“Tell me. Tell me how.” He covered her face in kisses and ran his hands along her body, his frenzy returning. She smiled at him. She spread her legs so he could stroke her there. She bit her lip and groaned, bunching the covers in her hands.
“I wasn’t supposed to show you those things. I’m supposed to make men so desperate to fuck me that they agree to become a servant of Gaia without understanding at all what it means. Technical agreement, but really a seductive trick.” She gasped then stopped his hand from fondling her. She laced her fingers into his hair and kissed him on the nose.
“But you licked me so sweetly. You touched me with such art, I decided to make you my captain. I wasn’t supposed to have a captain.”
Persephone laughed, a sound like the music of flowing water. “Will you be my captain?” she asked, framing his face in her hands.
Trent felt a sting in his eyes. He felt like his chest was going to burst. “Yes, Persephone, I want to love and serve you. That’s all I want to do.”
“Good.” She smashed his face to hers and kissed him with devouring lust. “Now fuck me, again. Then I will hold you in my arms until the dawn, and when you wake, you will be the most powerful warrior the earth has ever seen.”
"Will I kill for you then, goddess?"
"Yes, precious. First, we go after the money, the rivers of money being used to harm our mother. Tomorrow, we go to Wichita."