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.
"Eros?"
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.
