tagSci-Fi & FantasyGolden Arrows

Golden Arrows


Golden Arrows
RedHairedandFriendly ©

Author's Note : This story is my 2012 submission for the Literotica Valentine Day Contest. Please read, vote, and comment – one vote per reader. Thanks so much for your time and I hope you enjoy this new version of the makings of the special holiday. ~ Red

Violet eyes stared down at the altar that was once again bare. Lips, full and lush, sneered contemptuously at the cold marble. The name the mortal men had uttered upon removing their offerings still hung in the air – Psyche.

The mortal woman had taken a place in man's heart and they were making it more obvious to Aphrodite that she was no longer the most beautiful of creatures. Her stomach churned; the acids building up and causing her grief and displeasure. She spun away, the air around her crackled and sparked. Her fingers were curled into tight fists that shook at her sides.

As she made her way back to her dwelling, those who crossed her path immediately took flight by whatever means possible. Back at her home Aphrodite stewed; her pupils were small, the violet eyes now dark and purple as jealousy brought to the surface various means to make the woman suffer.

The sound of joyous laughter coming from her gardens only added to her foul mood. She snapped her fingers; the wind picked up and squeals of shock and dismay filled the room. The sound carried easily through the columns of marble. "Mother!"

Aphrodite turned her ice-cold visage toward her son, Eros who had hurriedly rushed to her side.

"What has angered you?" he asked, as his hands moved to repair his state of dress. She gazed longingly at his body, regretting that she had not yet coupled with him. His aroused sex spoke of the type of play she'd interrupted with her anger. She smirked, curious as to what he would say if she were to sample his wares. Eros was a god after all, so he knew how hungry her passions were – surely his were just as needy.

Another prayer lifted to the heavens. She closed her eyes, blocking out Eros so that she could feed off the gratitude of the mortals. Before the prayer ended though, the name Psyche fell from the man's lips. Aphrodite opened her eyes and screamed in anger.

Eros stepped back. "Something is troubling you, mother? What has happened to bring about such an unhappy expression on one with such a fair visage?"

She looked over her son, noticed his erection had faded. A frown formed on her lips as she waited for her anger to subside. "The mortals worship another," she hissed and pouted.

Her son laughed softly. "Mother, you know the fickleness of man. Do not fret. You are still the loveliest of the goddesses and their hearts truly belong only to you."

"They are being led away my son. A mortal woman – a female – steals my offerings and they go to her, give her my gifts, praise her name, and worship her features. I am forgotten."

Eros walked over and cupped his mother's chin. "Surely you jest. No woman on Earth or in the heavens could possibly steal the hearts of man or god." The god of love bent down and kissed his mother's cheek. Aphrodite's sex tightened

"Do you speak words of truth, son. Or are you just feeding me what a mother wants to hear?"

Eros stepped back and stared at his mother, the goddess of beauty. He knew he could bed her if he wanted and because he was a god there was no one that would fault him. Many gods and goddesses had procreated with their parents; why should he be any different? Yet he was.

There were times he was a bitter god, casting his leaden arrows into the hearts of mortals; other times he pierced their hearts with gold ones. The first always led to a love of indifference; the later gave the benefit of true and forever love.

Eros had wandered the Earth and the heavens for so long that he had discovered he wanted the later. If he were to lay with his mother, his soul would be dirty and his heart stolen and stained – only beating for another night of passion with her. Aphrodite was not a loyal companion; her needs would eventually lead her into another bed, be it a mortal or a god.


He shook his head, flexed his wings and smiled at the goddess. "I speak words of truth. You are the most desirable of all females. Who has hurt you? Who has stolen your prayers?"

"Her name is Psyche. I learned it just now. For months I had felt the loss of adoration rolling from the altar up to the heavens. I have investigated many weeks and it was not until today that three men approached the altar, and as they were just about to lay their gifts to me upon the marble, one brought up the female's name. The other acknowledged her as did the third. Soon I was forgotten; they took their gifts and hurried to her home to lavish them upon her."

"Have you seen this woman, this whore that steals the hearts of your worshipers?"

Aphrodite sighed. "I have no desire to see her. I just want her gone from my people. My admirers are being tricked and misled. You know without their prayers, without the prayers of mortals – all of us are affected – even you. She must be taught a lesson. Go to her Eros, use your golden arrows trimmed with the feathers of a dove – pierce her heart. Show her the visage of the ugliest creature on the Earth. Make her fall in love with it – make her desire it with every ounce of her being. Then she will be taken away, the creature will keep her locked from all that hunger for her. My people will return to the altar; the gifts and offerings will be mine; the prayers, we will all benefit from."

Eros touched her lips. "What is one lost heart when there are so many more to nurture?" he whispered.

She licked the pad of his thumb.

"I will go to her mother; I will do as you ask, and we will all feel the power in their prayers wash over us. You may rest knowing that you are truly the most heavenly of women."

"Thank you my son. I love you with all of my heart." She reached out and stroked his cheek before he pulled away. A long sigh of longing passed her lips as he lifted into the air and disappeared. Aphrodite felt the hunger in her loins ache upon his departure. She rose from her seat and went in search of her newest lover – hoping him and perhaps a woman would be willing to sedate the need that scorched her veins.

Eros disguised himself as a mortal. His wings sunk into his back, the skin and flesh of a human male closed over the openings. He rolled his shoulders, flexed his arms and squatted several times, loosening the muscles and tendons of human flesh. Clothes common to many materialized fitting him like a glove.

The Egyptian linen serving as his loin cloth felt confining and Eros was disgusted by the touch of it upon his skin. His bitterness at having to take the human form grew as the wool dalmatic tunic covered his arms and fell to his knees. The purple stripe etched with gold cord proclaimed his status of one of loftiness and prestige.

Eros chose the colors so that he would have no issue walking in and out of whatever establishment's he chose. On his feet, were calcei - large pieces of leather. Thin straps of the same material crossed and wrapped around the cloth keeping the soft textured skin close to his feet, ankles and calves.

He ran his fingers through his hair; the long strands started to stiffen in curls. "I think not," he muttered to himself and the curls receded, leaving behind his natural wave. His fingers touched his face. The skin was soft and smooth, modern to the times that Psyche's admirers were familiar with.

A leather pouch slapped his hip as he walked away from Aphrodite's altar. He knew the contents within held a bow and several arrows. Upon his wish, he could reach into the pouch and pull out the weapons and their lengths would increase with just a thought.

As he lolled lazily against a marble column, two men approached Aphrodite's altar. They had with them oils and precious gems. He listened to them begin their prayers of adoration. Just as his mother had claimed - when they said "were but humble servants begging favor from the most beautiful of all" – they had stopped.

The name Psyche fell softly from each of their lips.

This time though, instead of taking their offerings away, both men opted to leave a small portion to his mother. The rest, he was certain, would be taken to the woman who had become a thorn in a dangerous goddesses' side.

The young god of love would be lying to himself if he swore his curiosity was not piqued by the mortal. He followed the men; his eyes sparing but a glance to the men and women who tried to catch his favor. Their lust for his seed oozed from their pores. He ignored their longing, entirely focused on carrying out his mother's request so that he could return to his own godly form more quickly.

Both men stopped at the threshold of a simple dwelling. They called out to the occupants and when the door opened a woman appeared. Eros stared at her. His groin tightened and his pulse raced. His cock leaped and strained against the cloth that bound it against his abdomen.

There was no doubt that the woman who blushed at the words the men rained down on her was the same one that his mother detested. His heart seemed to stop beating as he watched her grant each man a boon for their gift. One received a kiss on his forehead, the other a caress along his cheek. Jealousy spilled into Eros subconscious as the men stumbled over themselves to thank Psyche. They both chose to walk backward; their eyes never wavered from the woman, until she closed the door on them.

Eros sneered, pulled a gold arrow from his pouch. It extended to the proper length. The bow came next, and soon both were in his hands. The arrow was notched. The gold gleamed in the sunlight. It penetrated the heart of the first man, sailed through him and into the heart of the second. After exiting, it dissolved, leaving neither man with a visible wound.

Their gazes held each others for a moment. Their hands reached out and touched the others lips. Eros grinned as the older man reached down and openly caressed the younger man's genitalia. The two men, struck by the arrow of love, left Psyche's dwelling, their desire now only for each other.

Love and indifference seemed to blossom over the remaining daylight hours. Eros made his decision on which arrow to let loose by how the beautiful Psyche reacted or by how the men and women left her. To give the mortal too much attention led Eros to jealousy. He would send an arrow of lead through their chest, making them forever indifferent to those that could one day capture another heart. Eros sentenced his victims to a life of bitterness as they moved from one lover to the next.

Very few left Psyche's doorstep with gold hearts piercing their souls; for the few that did however, they were rewarded with new hopes and dreams that mirrored their desire in the first person they passed. A handful of men and women found their soul mates, no matter their gender.

Night fell and with it the threshold of Psyche's dwelling was left free of all mortals. Eros had remained in hiding until the last of the sun danced behind the mountains. He walked the perimeter of her home, eventually settling on a stone bench that had been carved from a boulder in her garden. The night air was warm and he wished for nothing more than to be lying naked with the stunning creature.

Oil lamps were dimmed by servants until only one remained brightly shining from inside the home. Eros moved toward the room. He looked inside and saw Psyche brushing out her thick golden locks. The lamp gave off enough light to illuminate the various colors of her hair. Eros palms itched to stroke the soft waves and tangle his fingers into the rolling curls.

As he continued to gaze upon her, his breath was stolen when her fingers released the jeweled clasp and her toga spilled into her hands. Psyche turned toward the window; Eros leaped back.

"Who is there?" she asked.

He heard her footsteps nearing the window. His shadow danced across the flowers of her garden.

"Who are you? What are you doing out there? Speak now or I will call my Father's men."

Eros knew he was safe from any mortal that she deemed worthy enough to spar with him, but he also had no desire to upset the beautiful and fair woman. He saw her move to cover her window from the elements as well as his spying eyes.

"Wait," he said. His mortal voice was very much like his godly one. Gone however, was the soft whispering hum that often accompanied his seductive words. "I did not mean to startle you. I wish to pay homage to your beauty."

He sensed her trepidation. "I do not mean you any harm. I was embarrassed to show myself to you, in front of all your admirers. Your beauty is breathtaking and I am but a lowly man who offers nothing more than a smile in exchange for one of yours."

"Come into the light," she said. A lamp was lifted to the window and he saw her shadow cast across the garden.

"I dare not," he told her. "I am ugly and not worthy of your beauty. Could you but smile for me, I will smile for you and you will feel it caress your skin."

Psyche's lips rose in a shy grin.

Eros gasped. "Oh my dear Psyche, by the heavens you are indeed the most striking of all creatures god or mortal man. My lips are yours." He heard her giggle. "You mock me?" he asked; his voice was light and airy.

"You give me your lips, but I cannot see them to take my gift."

"Go to your bed; turn down the wick of your lamp until you are consumed in darkness. I will come to you and give you your gift."

Eros waited for what seemed like hours when in fact it had only been a minute before she disappeared. Her lamp was soon extinguished. He left the garden, making his way to the door nearest her window.

The god of love opened the door with a tender touch. It gave way without a sound signaling his arrival. Eros knew where Psyche's room was. Her door had been left open. He grinned and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

"Are you there?" she asked.

"I am my beauty. Are you ready for your gift?"

He heard her take a deep breath. Eros made his way to her bed. The moonlight was hidden behind thick gray clouds. He used the senses of a god to seek her out.

"Are you ready?" he asked, as he sat down on the bed. His hand rested against her thigh. His fingers moved up to tease the left knot of her linen cloth. Her fingers came down and rested on his.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I promised a smile for your lips," he told her. A gasp of shock filled the air. He waited for her to deny him. When she slid her hand away, it was to release the knot herself. Eros chest drummed heavily in his chest as she untied the other. He heard her lift her hips and knew the cloth that served to keep her sex covered was now discarded. "Close your eyes," he softly demanded.

Psyche whimpered. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a cloth of silk. "Before I pay homage for your beauty, I must blindfold you." His godly words caressed her like a warm blanket. She took the cloth; their fingers touched. A purr of pleasure left her throat. Eros growled low.

"I am ready. My eyes are covered."

Eros pulled a gold arrow from his pouch and laid it on the bed. It burned bright, casting a shimmering glow over her skin. "My heart is yours to command," he whispered as his fingers slowly trailed over her toes.

He watched her face; her lips parted. Each toe was rubbed with gentle strokes and tender ministrations. The soles of her feet were treated to firmer ones. She flexed instinctively as he massaged her skin and muscle.

"There is no part of you that I will not one day sample," he promised just before his hands moved to release the clasp of his tunic. He stood up; the material fell to the floor. His loin cloth followed, as did the leather shoes he had been forced to wear for the sake of appearing human.

Eros stood naked before the blind woman. His cock was hard, stiff, and aching. "Tell me my lovely Psyche, have you been promised to another?"

He watched her face and knew she would answer honestly. "I have not," she whispered, "though my father is seeking an arrangement."

"Then I shall be your lover," he told her.

Psyche moaned softly as he crawled onto the bed. He ran his hands up and down her body, cupped her breasts and teased the rosy nipples. His mouth moved to capture the left pearl. He pulled it and suckled from the hard point. The tip of his tongue trailed around the pink surface, dipped over the ridges, flicked the tiny bumps until she was thrashing on the bed and clawing at his scalp.

"What – oh – what are you doing to me?" she asked, as she tugged on his head, urging him toward her other tit.

Eros laughed. "I'm giving you your gift. I have witnessed men and women come to your door and give you various gems, oils, perfumes, but no one has given you the gift that I will shower upon you. No oils – no jewels – nothing on the face of this earth will leave you as breathless as the gift I will give. Do you want my gift?" he asked. He moved his lips to her other breast and supped on it like a babe needing the nourishing fluids of its mother's milk.

"Yes," Psyche hissed.

It was the only word Eros needed to confirm what he already knew. He would lie with the woman, claiming her as his own, and mark her womb with his seed. Eros hands moved like wine, coating her body with caresses and kneading fingers. She moaned and hissed, gasped and sighed as he felt his way down her legs, behind her knees, up her thighs, over her hips.

His mouth soon followed the same paths as his fingertips had taken. He lifted one leg, kissed her goose bumped flesh, lowered the left and treated the right to the same tasting tongue. The indentation of her hips were licked and fondled with the flat of his moist muscle. The sliding tips of his fingers stroked her ribs causing her to twist and giggle.

He chuckled, left her torso and stroked her arms. His mouth moved to her forehead. He kissed her arched golden eyebrows. His lips softly brushed her cheeks. The silk of the blindfold caressed him; the tip of her nose was touched with his. Her tongue darted out, tempting him, but he knew had he kissed her mouth he would be lost and his cock would consume her before she was ready.

"You toy with me," she whispered.

Grinning, he looked down her length and saw her legs open. The light from the arrow glistened off her moist lips. He ran his thumb over the aroused flesh. Her hips bucked against the timid touch. Eros lowered his mouth to her mound.

"Oh by all that is holy," she hissed.

He smiled, licked the folds of her pussy and slowly began to devour the velvet flesh. Golden curls with beads of moisture tickled his face. He nuzzled her sex, breathed in her scent and ate his way deeper into her slippery hole.

Psyche's fist curled into the sheets of her bed while his hands moved to cup her ass, lifting her several inches higher so he could penetrate her deeper with his tongue. He felt the warmth of her sex blanket him. The succulent juices of her pussy flowed thick and heavy into his mouth. He teased the nub of her cunt, sucking on the tender morsel, drawing from her depths more honey-suckling nectar.

"I – I – can't – I can't breathe," Psyche confessed through broken words.

Eros laughed against her pussy, pushing her higher to the edge of release. He coaxed from her another cry of passion. He felt the essence of the room around them and knew he was safe from her Father's men; her passion was heavy as it showered him. Eros greedily sucked on her womanhood, swallowing the juice that bathed his throat. His face moved up and down on her sex, until she was calling for him to fill her with his cock.

Her hips were dropped to the bed. He came up, pressed his dick to her opening and shoved hard and fast into her canal. She cried out as he took possession of her and made her his. Virgin blood spilled onto his cock. His mouth covered hers; their tongues dueled. Eros fucked her slowly.

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