Chapter 0 - The Rape of Persephone - You Can't Rape the Willing God

The Underworld

They had locked her in a massive cavern. Sealed her in, really, since there was no door, only a static bubbling sheet of rock. It had been molten lava only a minute before, but had resumed its shape behind her cloaked and hooded captor as he left the chamber. She looked around, the chamber cut out of glossy black glass, the reflection of fires dancing in its black obsidian depths. At one end stood a throne whose back reached the ceiling, its seat many times larger than was needed for a mortal man, and every inch of it was carved to resemble human skulls. Light glittered in their eye sockets, making them seem alive. She was being watched. 

Her heart fluttering in her chest, Persephone lifted herself from the floor, shaking the dirt and soot from her torn, frail dress. She was not hurt, but she trembled. She had suspected this would happen. During a sojourn on Olympus, before her mother had spirited her away to the mortal realm, she had eavesdropped on her father speaking one of his kin. His brother, she thought, though they were so unalike in appearance. Hades was spare and lithe, where Zeus was muscled and thick. Her uncle was dark of hair, dark of eyes, pale of skin, and wore a dark fog as his shroud. Still, he had smiled, a thin, secretive smile, as Zeus confided in him.

“You must wait. She is not yet ripe, my daughter. You will know. Watch her. Take her when she is ready.”

It could have been any one of the Great Father’s daughters, of course, but Persephone felt it like a little stab in her heart, she believed it would be her, that she would be Hades’ gift. It wasn’t until Mother had taken her away from the mountain of the gods that she felt sure. 

So she had passed her innocence, bathing in the sun, communing with nymphs, and sprites, learning of their mortal lovers. She found herself surrounded often by wisps, little ghosts, spirits that vanished when she reached for them. It was yesterday at dusk when she had followed them, compelled, to a place in the woods that she had never explored. It was a broad circle of flat, pounded earth, utterly devoid of living things. She had hesitated on the edge of it, feeling a sudden dread. But more than that, she felt an excitement, a quiet yearning beneath her young breasts. For she was young, as reckoned by the gods. A child of gods, not yet come into her full power. She stepped into the circle.

It was as though the whole world was falling away. The sky cracked open and the ground split, and she felt a great rush of heat from below. It licked up her thighs, touched her in secret places, and then, with a violence she did not expect, large hands seized her around the waist and she was pulled down into the fiery cyclone. She cried out but her voice was choked from her, and she caught a flash of hairy legs, cloven feet, and bright black eyes. She shut her eyes and curled against the form that held her, until silence fell and darkness took her.

When she recovered her senses, she had found herself in the throne room before a tall figure robed in black. She could not make it out, and opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced as it- he- raised a hand. 

“You will stay here tonight. You will learn. Then you will decide.”

With that, he turned and left, sealing the entrance behind him. 

Persephone was no fool. She knew where she was being held, and she had a suspicion as to why, though she was not as well versed in the prophecy as that. She made her way forward, pale in the light, her black hair hanging in tresses around her bare shoulders. She approached the throne, touching it with wonder. It was great enough to serve as a bed, a black featureless shelf. 

“My lady,” said a voice, and she turned around, pulling her tattered frock together at the throat. 

The greeting had come from a woman, a woman the colour of chocolate, who stood a few inches taller than the young goddess. She was old, Persephone could tell, ancient, though she was unlined and her body, which was unclad but for a silver collar, was generous in the hips and breasts. Her nipples, Persephone noticed, were large and swelled slightly, starting from her breasts, and pierced through with silver rings. 

“Who are you?” Persephone asked, her voice quiet despite the great cavernous space. 

“I am Nona,” said the woman in her soft, low voice. She approached, and the rings swayed slightly, and Persephone saw that there were tiny bells attached to them that made an almost imperceptible ring. “I am the mistress of the handmaidens.”

“Whose handmaidens?” 

“The handmaidens of Hades, my princess.” 

“I am not a princess,” Persephone said, feeling her breath catch and her heart skip. 

“Here, you are,” Nona said as she came closer. “You are the heiress of this realm.”

“You were mortal,” Persephone observed, feeling a chill of recognition. 

“When I was alive,” Nona said. 

“Why has he sent you to me? Why has he not come himself?” Persephone felt her voice shake, just a little.

“He will come when you want him,” Nona said, a secretive smile on her face. “It is my purpose to make you want him. To make you ready.”

“How?”

The handmaiden was now only a few inches away, looking down at the young goddess with a knowing expression. She reached forward and touched the girl with the tip of her finger, laying it between her legs. Persephone felt herself suddenly grow warm, and wet, a tightening racing up her core. 

“Oh,” she said, just above a whisper. 

“Do you want me to show you?” the slave asked, pressing forward. 

In answer, Persephone reached forward and put her hands on the two full breasts that were before her. They were soft at her touch, the skin velvety, and the flesh firm. The aeroeles bulged forward, paler than the brown skin. She put her mouth to one and sucked, pulling the metal ring and bell into her mouth. Nona put her hand behind her head and leaned into her, pressing the breast into the girl’s mouth. Persephone felt the ring and belt bump against her throat. 

“You are immortal flesh, princess. He takes me at his pleasure, as he would take a mortal,” Nona said as she stroked her hair. “But you he will take as an immortal. You were made for him, to be his queen.”

Persephone pulled away, and looked up into the woman’s face. “Then you will be my handmaiden also?”

“Of course.” 

“Take me.”

The woman led her down behind the throne to a great sea of pillows, and told Persephone to lie there. The young goddess obeyed, and spread her legs, feeling the warmth touch her somewhere deep inside. Nona knelt down before her, and showed her two long fingers, before turning her hand, and slipping them inside her. Persephone arched, and then moaned as the woman’s mouth came down over her clit, and began to suck softly. She pressed another finger into Persephone, and then another. Persephone felt deliciously filled by the hardness that was Nona’s fist as it pumped inside her. 

“Shall I summon the others, mistress?” she said quietly, lifting her head. 

“Summon them.” 

Other women manifested themselves, and Persephone saw that they were all lovely, heavy breasted and beautiful. Following behind them was another figure, that of a man, tall and thickly muscled, with a stream of iron dark hair. He seemed older, not elderly, but possessed of some quality of age. He wore a belted skirt made of coins, thousands of coins, that made soft music as he approached. His legs, she noticed, were goatish and ended in cloven hooves. 

Persephone watched him as he stopped a few paces, crossed his arms and stared back at her, looking mildly interested in the treatment she was receiving from her new servants. Two of the other girls, one a firey red head, and the other pale blonde, had brought their mouths down to her nipples, and were sucking gently, causing them to harden. 

“Who is he?” she asked, her voice softened by the pleasure of the girls’ stimulating tongues. 

Nona raised her head from her task, and stroked her belly. “He is the ferryman. He is the least of the immortals and the greatest of mortals. He is the master’s lieutenant. He is here to extract his fee.” 

“His fee?”

Nona beckoned him over. He moved, his hooves clicking against the glassy floor. As he drew nearer, he bowed his head. 

“I am Charon, princess. Keeper of the crossing. I will escort you to the master when it is time.”

“When will it be time?” she wondered, half to herself. The handmaidens at her breasts continued to suck, and Persephone reached out to touch their heads, stroke their hair.

Charon approached and unlaced the skirt of coins, letting it drop, and revealing a member the length of Persephone’s forearm. It was hairy, except for the tip, accompanied by two egg sized balls that were swathed in fur. Charon took it in his hand and began to milk it until it stood erect, pink and glossy at the tip.

“In Hades,” he said quietly. “The vices of Pan are without price, and without limits. I am his kin, but of darkness, so I am the master’s lieutenant. Even you, daughter of gods, must pay my price.”

He brushed the handmaidens away, except for Nona who stood watchfully at Persphone’s side. His cock brushed her cheek, and the young goddess felt a sticky liquid drip down her face. It was salty and pungent, tasting of animal. Nona moved around and laid the goddess’s head in her lap, gently pulling open her mouth. 

“Suck him,” she commanded softly. Persephone obeyed, feeling the soft, wet slippery head of the penis press against the back of her throat, filling her mouth. Charon stroked her hair, and slowly skinned back the fur from his cock and pressed it deeper into her throat. Persephone felt herself choke, but he did not relent, holding her face in his hands. Nona stroked her throat, urging the bulging cock deeper into her. 

“Calm. You are immortal, and it is his price,” Nona soothed, reaching down to cup Persephone’s breasts, which ached at the contact. Charon groaned as his entire length disappeared into the goddess’s mouth, his testicles now resting on her face. She breathed the goat-scent from them, a spicy, musky scent, and felt herself grow even wetter. Slime coated her mouth and throat as he thrust in and out of her, gently, slowly, until finally, with a grunt, he pulled back so that only the bulbous head of his cock was still inside her mouth. Something warm and salty and thick gushed into her mouth. She drank, greedily, obediently, feeling it leak from her nostrils and down her breasts. 

Charon stepped back, the coins of his skirt tinkling together, his member still hard and leaking. The handmaidens who had stood back now approached and went on their knees before him, kissing away and drinking the come while he stroked their hair affectionately. 

“She is ready.” 

The voice came not from Charon, or Nona, but from the dark figure that stood at the end of the hall. Persephone, helped by Nona, stood and faced him. 

“Uncle,” Persephone said, her voice low and throaty. “I am ready for you.”

“Are you?” he smiled his thin smile as he approached her. He reached out and touched her breasts, thumbing the nipples. “Will you serve me well? Will you allow me to serve you...well?” 

She bit her lip, nodded, and looked into his eyes. Nothing but darkness, there. No whites to his eyes. And suddenly, as his robe fell away, she knew why. The form of a great black hound manifested itself, but not just any hound. A hound the size of a carthorse, with three heads, and as Persephone saw, three massive, slimy cocks, traced with pulsing veins. Seeing the slickness of them made her even more wet, and she looked to Nona. 

Nona smiled, and guided Persephone to her knees, on her hands and feet like a bitch. The hound mounted her, and the handmaiden guided the cocks into her, one into her pussy, another into her ass, and the third she left resting on her back, where it pulsed come over the back of her neck and dripped warmly. 

The cocks were so large that Persephone wondered that she didn’t burst open. Her eyes rolled back and she felt herself begin to come, not once, or twice, but a continued arrested pleasure, pleasure at taking her lord and master, pleasure at her belly’s swell as the great member filled it, pummelling her internal organs, puncturing them in a way that would have killed her had she been mortal. In this way, she was giving up all vestiges of mortality, and she felt herself growing in her power, her small breasts becoming large and voluptuous. 

The beast withdrew for a moment, and she rolled on to her back, opening her legs to it. Hades was inside her again, two of his heads occupied with licking and sucking and biting her breasts, the third tonguing her lips. She opened her mouth, and the preternaturally long tongue slipped into it, down into her throat, and wrapped around her pounding heart. All of the life was being fucked out of her, absorbed into this thing, this creature, and she gave herself to it. It offered power, control, and above all, pleasure. 

Images flittered through her mind, the ways in which she would enjoy what he offered, the ways she would enjoy any she chose to take as lover. The human skulls she would wear, the offerings she would accept. As the tongue withdrew and was replaced by the third, dripping cock, she drank the intoxicating liquid, feeling it leak from her eyes, nose, nipples, cunt and ass. The maidens had gathered around her, supplicants, to sip at the warm, thick rivers of come. 

Finally she surrendered completely, going limp, her belly distended with Hades’ come. Her world darkened and she closed her eyes, drowning in a sea of soft kisses and thumping jolts of after shock. 

When she awoke, she was lying on a bed of silk, and Nona was standing stalwart beside her, smoothing her hair. She, Persphone, was still sticky with come, and the handmaiden led her down from her bed to a bathing pool that whose waters were warmed by a small current of lava that tongued through its depths. She rose from her bath clean and fresh, and saw herself before the black glass mirror as she never had before. She was taller, still delicate and graceful of limb, but her hips had rounded, and her breasts, which had been small and firm, were now large and voluptuous. 

“Shall I dress you?” Nona inquired, reaching round to lift her breasts. “There is ceremony yet to be fulfilled.” 

Persephone, in an almost trance, nodded. From the darkness, handmaidens scurried forward to array her in her wedding raiment. Her breasts filled two human skulls that gazed sightlessly up at her, the bone rough but not unpleasant against her skin, the teeth biting softly into her flesh. A silvery shroud encircled the rest of her body, while her arms remained bare and unadorned. Her hair the maidens pinned with black jet stones. One of them, a whispy blonde thing that had perished very young, bent before the princess to offer her open mouth. 

Persephone lifted her skirts and pressed her cunt into the girl’s mouth, feeling the last stream of Hades’ come leak from her. The girl drank it greedily, and then plied her art on the goddess’ clit until she came, moaning, a simple and immediate pleasure of the mortal variety. 

“You have much to teach me,” Persphone said, stroking the girl’s soft, almost white hair. “Tell me your name?”

“I am Eleni, the youngest.” Truthfully she was young, Persephone saw, perhaps thirteen or fourteen at the time of her death. She touched the girl’s small, barely formed breasts.

“How did you come among the maidens of the dead?”

“My father sacrificed me to the dark one. Hades came for me. He took me, broke my body with his great manhood, but pleasured me beyond telling. I died in his arms, begging for more.”

“And will you serve me?” Persephone asked, feeling for a first time a kind of authority. 

“Eternally.” 

Satisfied, the goddess motioned to the rest of her ladies, and allowed them to escort her out to the throne room where Hades had first taken her. 

The Olympian himself was seated on the great throne of carved skulls, his body now that of a powerful, pale man. He smiled upon sight of his bride, and in his hand rested a bright fruit, the brightest thing in the vast black and glassy chamber. 

“Uncle,” Persephone said coquettishly, her loins throbbing with the memory of his delicious rape. 

“Child,” he beckoned, and she came, sitting beside him on the great throne. He stroked her hair, and kissed her mouth with strange, tender sweetness. “You have given me more pleasure than I have felt in every lifetime of man. I would have you every way that is possible or impossible in every world but the world of daylight. Would you surrender yourself to Hades? Would you accept your birthright and take upon your head the crown of the underworld?”

Persephone looked out and saw now that they were not alone, that the Olympians had gathered, watchful shades, not quite manifested, but present and waiting. Her father, Zeus, nodded approvingly. Her mother, she noticed, was absent, but this didn’t trouble her. It was all part of the bargain. 

“I would, my lord. I would let you take me at your pleasure, and take you at mine. You have much to teach me, but I am eager to learn.” 

Unashamedly, she reached for him, brushing her hands against his hardening cock beneath the austere black toga. His lips twitched in a smile, and he tore open the pomegranate in his hand, putting a finger under her chin and tilting the bloody red seeds into her mouth. She clutched at it, pressing her face into the fruit, feeling the juice run down between her breasts, staining her red. A frisson of power rippled through her, and she felt the sudden connection through every rotting corpse, every death, and the pleasure to be had in reaping life from the mortal world. She shuddered, and groaned, dropping the ruined fruit as Hades swept aside his toga and lifted her on to his lap, his cock filling her completely. She bounced on it, crying out as he slipped one finger, then two into her ass, then his whole fist, pumping into her until she came in a shuddering wave. 

“Adored one,” he said softly, kissing the back of her neck. “Tomorrow, you will learn of real pleasure. The fruit of your queendom, and the sport of the Olympians. Tonight, we will be as mortal lovers, and I will train you in the art of taking life at your pleasure.”

“Keep fucking me now, husband,” she pleaded. “I have waited so long.” 

“As have I,” Hades said with a smile, sliding his cock deep into her ass and pumping her full of thick hot come. “As have I.”


