Love's Immortal Passion Read online

  LOVE'S IMMORTAL PASSION by Cat Johnson

  Naughty stories of the immortals of Mount Olympus

  Welcome to Mt. Olympus, where erotic pleasures reign supreme and the ancient Greek gods engage in games that have no rules.

  Bacchanal

  In vino veritas… The very wine that brings Dionysus his true love, also takes her from him. Will he interfere in the affairs of mortals to get Ariadne back, or will Theseus, his rival for her affections, betray the woman who saved him? Sometimes love is a labyrinth all its own.

  Erato

  When the lowly muse Erato is unwittingly used as a pawn in Aphrodite and Eros's vengeful quest against Apollo, can he emerge the winner of their battle? More importantly, will Erato lose his heart to the unsuspecting nymph Acantha in the process?

  Eros's Valentine

  When the god of love and sexual desire finds himself bored with both, can a Valentine’s Day trip to the mortal realm and one woman cure him of his malaise and remind him of passions long forgotten?

  Bliss

  Psyche, Adelfa, and Bliss. Three beautiful sisters. Upon gazing at Psyche's beauty, Eros, the God of Love, demands she be brought to his bed. Psyche has her own feelings about whose bed she’d rather be brought to, and it’s not that of the mysterious being who summons her. Led by Bliss, the three sisters hatch a deception. The truth will be revealed in the end, but will they all survive it?

  LOVE'S IMMORTAL PASSION

  Cat Johnson

  Copyright 2013 by CAT JOHNSON

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  License Statement

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  www.CatJohnson.net

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  BACCHANAL

  ERATO

  EROS'S VALENTINE

  BLISS

  About the Author

  Also by Cat Johnson

  BACCHANAL

  Prologue

  Dionysus stood before the mirror as his attendants dressed him for his journey. Or rather, undressed him.

  He would attend the bacchanal nude, save for the bull’s head mask two maenads now lifted and placed over his face and hair. A third nymph oiled every inch of his naked skin until it reflected the light of the oil lamps on the wall. The maenad became more energetic in her oiling and rubbing when she reached his cock, which rose to meet her attention.

  Reaching down, he stilled her movement. “No more of that. I must leave.”

  She maintained her hold on him. “You could take us with you.”

  “If I do that, I’ll have no time for the unfortunate mortals below. They gather to honor me. The least I can do is give them a bit of my attention. Would you deny them that small pleasure?” He smiled at her obvious disappointment.

  Sighing, she pouted but finally released her grasp after one final practiced stroke of her hands most likely designed to remind him of what joys she could give him as compared to the mortal females below.

  Laughing, he ran a hand over her head. “I’ll return in three days.”

  Three mortal days was hardly a blip of time to an immortal, but it did make the mortals happy when he attended their celebrations.

  Dionysus turned, finding it hard to see from beneath the mask. “Is Pan ready?”

  “I’m here.” Pipes in hand, the small bearded man with the hind legs of a goat skittered to his side.

  “And the wine bearers and escorts?”

  “Ready,” a maenad answered him.

  “Then all is done. Shall we go?” With a nod from him, the procession began.

  Chapter One

  Every beat of the drums throbbed through her, pounding, vibrating her very core.

  She was Ariadne, daughter of King Minos of Crete, but not here, not now. No one knew her true identity at the bacchanal, which is as she wished it. Never would she have been allowed to play a maenad even for the brief duration of the sacred rites had her father known. So, dressed as a commoner, she’d scaled to the very top of the mountain where the air grew thin and her breaths grew short. There, she knew the followers of Dionysus would welcome her.

  The festival attendees moved around her to the sound of the drums. She watched as the males donned masks, frighteningly realistic head coverings which portrayed wild animals making them appear half man, half beast. Dancing amid the man-beasts were females, clad in skins to portray the maenads who legend said serviced the god of wine.

  A man dressed as a panther pressed a hollowed bull’s horn to her lips. The strange tasting wine seared a path down her throat. Eagerly, she reached out and tipped more into her mouth, sucking the vessel dry. Heat moved through her, starting at her burning cheeks and blazing a trail through her body.

  Hands lifted the peasant’s clothes she'd donned, pulling them over her head. Cool air brushed her skin even as the wine burned her within.

  She felt the weight of the fawn’s skin being draped over her shoulders, then the thyrsus was placed in her hands. Planting it into the ground, she gripped the long, ivy covered stick tightly as a snake was laid upon her shoulders and a wreath of ivy placed atop her head. The serpent moved and curled against her body. Each slither sent waves of sensation through her as the snake wrapped around her thigh, working his way down her leg and onto the ground where it escaped beneath a bush.

  The world moved around Ariadne in strange starts and stops. Bits and pieces came through her consciousness, bright and overly clear, while others were dull and indistinct. The men who had previously appeared as humans dressed in masks, suddenly looked more feral. Struggling to maintain a hold on reality, she reminded herself the animals she saw pairing off with the maenads were truly men no matter what her eyes told her.

  From somewhere distant the sound of a bull reached her ears. She jumped. Was her brother here? No, how could he be? Her father had her mother’s embarrassment trapped in his labyrinth—the minotaur, the half man, half beast Mino’s wife, Pasiphae, had birthed after lying with Poseidon’s gift of the white bull.

  Ariadne looked around her and found the source of the noise she had heard. A procession approached, led by a piper who appeared to be Pan himself. Panthers and tigers followed, and behind them, a massive black bull. She moved toward him in a dreamlike state, compelled to touch the creature. He was beautiful. For the first time in her life, Ariadne could understand her mother’s unnatural desire.

  He stared at her with nearly human eyes and she could not break from his gaze. She reached out one tentative hand, stroking his great head. When he didn’t protest, she moved to caress his powerful muscles while speaking soft words of praise for his greatness.

  Around her, men and women danced as the tempo and intensity of the drums increased along with the frenzy. Need consumed her. Setting aside the thyrsus, she pulled off the fawn skin, dropping it to the ground. Naked, she threw her arms around the bull and pressed her flesh to his hide, wanting every inch of her to touch his warmth. He walked on two feet, standing like a man, his huge arousal prominent before her. She both feared and craved him simultaneously, though it did not matter, because she was powerless to stop herself as she reached out and touched his phallus with both hands. The beast let out a snort and she stroked him again, and again, until the creature released a great roar, knocking her backwards onto the ground.

  Her eyes opened wide as the bull fell upon her with a grunt.

  Visions of her father�
��s anger, her mother’s tears, and her half human half brother who would be far better dead than alive screamed through her brain.

  “No! Don’t. Please, no.” Her tears turned to sobs as the bull spread her thighs.

  “Why not? You want me. That you cannot deny.” The beast spoke to her with the voice of a man.

  His great tongue swiped at the wetness seeping from between her spread thighs, confirming what he spoke was true.

  “I can’t lie with you.”

  His tongue slipped inside her, stroking as she wanted his great cock to do in spite of her horror and fear. He built inside her a need so great, the reasons she must not do this began to fade. Writhing beneath his touch, she sought more even as she pushed him away.

  “Why do you fight me?” Impatient, he rose up above her, his voice gruff.

  “The gods will punish me.”

  He grew still. “Why do you think that?”

  Now that he was no longer driving her beyond reason, she could think again. The tears streamed hot down her face because she knew, if he asked it of her, she would deny him nothing. “You’re a bull and I’m a woman. Have you not heard of the minotaur born to King Minos’s wife as punishment for such an act? Please, do not make me desire you so.”

  “You admit you desire me?”

  “Yes.” She wept harder.

  “Enough so that if I asked it of you, you would lie with me as a woman does a man?”

  “Yes, but please don’t ask it of me.” Her voice trembled, while at the same time, her insides clenched against the emptiness she longed for him to fill. As if he knew that, he dipped his head again with a growl and filled her with his tongue.

  This time she didn’t fight him. She pressed closer and met each thrust gladly, seeking more. Then he pulled away, leaving her unsatisfied, confused, ashamed.

  “We will lie together.”

  She nodded, powerless against her own body. “Yes.”

  “And you will not be punished by the gods.”

  “How do you know?”

  He brought his head closer to her face. “Lift off my mask, maiden.”

  Ariadne squinted her eyes, trying to bring the fuzzy world into focus. Confused, she shook her head. “Mask?”

  “Grasp my horns and pull. Then perhaps you’ll cease your worrying and grip something else that is in great need of attention.” The tenor of his voice sent tingles through her as much as the drums had before.

  Doing as he’d instructed, she grasped his horns with both hands and pulled, releasing the bull’s head to reveal features too beautiful to belong to any human male. Dark black curls tumbled around a face where eyes as blue as the summer sky stared down at her. Lips so soft, yet strong, beckoned her to kiss them.

  She gasped. “Who are you?”

  “Does it matter?” Desire showed clearly on his face, and now that the mask no longer confused her addled brain, she could see the hard, muscled, nude body of a very aroused man.

  “No,” she breathed.

  He grinned. “In that case, I shall reward you with a hint. Who do you come here today to honor?”

  “Dionysus.”

  Nodding at her answer, he continued. “And what is the purpose of this rite?”

  “To take the god Dionysus into our bodies.”

  Was he the leader of the cult? If she answered correctly, he’d surely reward her further and relieve her ache. Please, gods, he would because she would die if he didn’t take her.

  “What is your name, maiden?”

  “Ariadne.”

  He smiled. “Your answers please me well, Ariadne, and so you shall take Dionysus into you. Take me inside you. Take me now because in all my many years I’ve never desired a woman more.”

  Her breath caught in her throat, as much from his revelation as from the bulging erection he pressed against her as his hands lifted her hips to meet him. The world swirled around her. None of it mattered as he pushed against her.

  “Wine!” he shouted, and a horn was pressed to his mouth, even as he strove to impale her.

  The horn was offered to her and she shook her head.

  “Drink, my lovely Ariadne,” her god instructed.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Any more and I will grow too drunk and not remember.” She desperately wanted to remember.

  “The wine will relax you. You’re so tight, I’ll hurt you.” The trembling of his body told her his hold on his control was tenuous.

  “It doesn’t hurt.”

  She saw the strain on his face as he tried to fit his girth inside her. “It will. Look.”

  Gazing at the place where they were joined, Ariadne saw the tip of her lover’s massive erection wasn’t even partially inside her yet. He was as big now that she knew he was human, as he had appeared when she’d believed he was a bull.

  “Please, drink the wine,” he begged, trembling as he held himself still, before he pulled away and left her completely.

  The fear of losing his attentions hit her. “All right.”

  His fingers stroked her face. “Thank you, my lovely, and I shall do all I can to make sure you remember all of the pleasure in spite of the wine.”

  Taking the horn in his own hands, he held it to her mouth, staring at her lips as she drew the liquid in.

  She swallowed and then sought another mouthful. “It tastes different than before.”

  “It is different. It’s my own private stock. Only I and the women who share my bed partake of it.”

  A frown settled between her brows. “Oh.”

  A look of concern crossed his face. “What upsets you, my love?”

  Something, the alcohol perhaps, made her confess. “I don’t want other women to share your bed.”

  He laughed, a bottomless, heart-filled sound that rose from deep inside him. It drew her closer as he said, “Then they won’t. You shall be the only one, for as long as you wish it. Would that please you?”

  Her heart sped. “Yes.”

  Leaning forward, his hands cradled her face as his lips met hers. He feasted on her mouth, his tongue mingling with hers, the flavor of the wine they’d both drunk making the already intoxicating kiss more so.

  Growling, he pulled away. “Drink up, my love. I feel a great passion and I can’t promise to be able to control it.”

  She took the horn in her own hands and swallowed the garnet liquid, tasting flowers and honey along with the pungent grapes. Meanwhile, the music and the dancers swirled amid the many couplings of the revelers. Most had removed both masks and clothes now. Men lay with women, women with women, men with men. Groupings of three, sometimes four bodies thrust, writhed and moaned. The mountaintop reeked of herbs, wine and sex beneath the warm sun.

  Ariadne couldn’t spare more than a passing glance at those around her, because Dionysus had been presented with a box, which he laid on the soft moss next to them.

  “Lay back, my love.”

  She did, closing her eyes to the beauty of the canopy of leaves above her as the wine began to work on her brain. In a state halfway between wake and sleep, the place where dreams seemed real and reality was like a dream, her lover spread her wide and slipped something cool, slick and smooth inside her. Slowly, patiently, he stroked, in and out until her body warmed the object, leaving her briefly only to return with what felt like the same article, but larger and cool again. Part of her wondered at it, while most of her didn’t care as the pleasure he caused had her hips rising off the ground.

  He moved faster. In. Out. Over and over. Then again, a larger one took its place, this one so big it took more time to insert. At the same time his tongue connected with her, flicking her sensitive nub until her body finally accepted the object. He groaned, pumping it inside her. Her lover only lifted his head from tormenting her most sensitive spot long enough to say, “Soon, my love. One more, and then you’ll be ready for me to love you properly.”

  She moaned because she couldn’t speak.

  His moan ech
oed hers as he yanked the item from her and another, larger still, took its place. His fingers spread her as it pressed inside. She felt his hands trembling. His barely controlled desire made her crave him more. She spread her legs farther, lifted her hips higher, and her muscles gave way to the steady pressure pressing inside.

  “Yes,” he hissed. “Take this one, love. All of it, and I shall be next.”

  “Yes.” Her head rolled against the ground as he pushed deeper.

  “Soon. So soon.” She heard the building frenzy in his voice.

  Substitutes wouldn’t do. She wanted him, warm and hard inside her, heavy on top of her. His skin against hers so she felt his heart beating faster against her chest because of her.

  “Now. Please. Take me now.”

  “No, love. Not quite yet.” He pushed slowly against the resistance.

  He lowered his mouth onto her again, frantically suckling her core, growling against her until she cried out with pleasure. Then both his tongue and the phallus were gone, replaced with the wide head of her lover’s cock.

  Opening her eyes, she stared at him, seeing the passion evident in his expression. “You have consumed me, Ariadne.”

  He slid his hands between their bodies, holding her open as he pressed against her. Muscles in his neck corded with the strain as he pushed.

  “More wine!” The strain was evident in his voice.

  She opened her mouth, choking as a servant filled her mouth with the beverage she hoped would let her fully experience him. “More,” she said between coughs.

  The servant immediately complied, and this time she was ready for the stream of liquid and swallowed without problem.

  “Be gone.” Dionysus waved him away. “No more wine, love. It’s too potent for a mortal.”