The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Not So Long Ago...

“I’m bored.” Despite the faintly whining undertone, the basso profundo voice rumbled through the dim, dusty halls and set the desiccated leaves of dead plants in cracked urns and dirty vases trembling. A gusty sigh of dissatisfaction followed, stirring bits of trash and debris in the untended galleries and causing a dust devil to spring up in the lifeless atrium of the once beautiful palace.

The voice issued from a figure slumped in the seat of a throne that had once been an ornately carved thing of beauty all in gold and gems. Now it was tarnished black, with holes like missing teeth indicating where jewels had been dug out of their settings. The throne sat on the top tier of a dais of once-gleaming marble that was now streaked with dust and crusted with dirt. Smaller, less imposing thrones were arrayed on the lower levels of the dais, but only three were occupied, and discolorations of the marble indicated where other seats of authority had once stood before being taken roughly away marring the stone with gouges and scratches.

The figure in the tarnished golden throne stirred and a gray shaft of light picked out a large man, once obviously immensely powerful and imposing but now run to fat. The face was handsome in a stern and awesome way, the eyes a fierce and piercing gray, and had once been a commanding and terrible countenance. Now broken veins made the majestic hawk-like nose an unprepossessing red. A dirty and matted gray beard straggled over the bare chest and bloated belly, touching upon the grimy cloth of the man’s sole garment, a kilt-like affair that had once been white. The huge hands toyed idly with something that resembled a bar of pure silver-gold light. Suddenly an expression of purest thunderous rage twisted the awesome visage and the being bellowed, “By the Hells, I’m BORED!” and hurled the bar of light across the expansive chamber housing the dais and thrones. It struck a pillar across the room, which vanished with a sharp explosion and a cloud of dust and splinters of marble. The figures on the thrones below him all flinched and ducked their heads as needle-like bits of stone sang through the air and the cloud of dust swirled through the chamber.

As the echoes of the detonation rumbled away through the disused passages and galleries of the almost-vacant palace, one of those figures sat up carefully and surveyed the damage—splintered stumps of several other pillars indicated that this display had occurred before. Her face was narrow but not thin, with a fine, straight nose set above full lips now pursed in distaste. Her hair was dark and gleaming, obviously well cared for, and cascaded down her back in an extravagant wave of ringlets. Her clothing, a simple toga of dove-gray linen, was clean if slightly threadbare and clung easily to the full breasts and hips of her figure. Her eyes—clear, gray and piercing—matched those of the man on the golden throne, evidence of the bond between them. Now she spoke with a hint of irony and disapproval in her voice.

“You realize of course, Father, that that was your last thunderbolt. Since Hephaestus has...moved on...there will be no more. That may have been a wasteful and futile gesture.”

“Cease your prattle, Athena!” The voice, for all the sharpness of the words, was subdued and almost petulant. He turned those fierce eyes on the woman, heavy white brows casting them into ominous shadow, but his expression was more frustrated than enraged. “You say it was wasteful? How so, when I’ve no power over the forces of nature anymore? What else would you have me do with the symbols of my former might, which has melted before the inattention and indifference of those damned and damnable mortals? Better it were discarded now, hurled in anger as is proper, than fade away in my very grasp, I say. Were I to cast it to the world below, why it would likely pass unnoticed and I would feel the greater fool for it.” His voice trailed off, the pain now clear. “I would it had leveled Olympus around us and put an end to this forsaken twilight world of our existence.”

“Ohh, Papa Zeus, you don’t mean that, surely.” The woman speaking rose from the throne next to Athena’s, her voice a soothing, sensuous coo. Though she shared the startling gray eyes of their common parentage, her features were full where her sister’s were narrow, with high round cheekbones and lush red lips. Her hair also was ravens-wing black with an almost liquid sheen arranged on her head in an elaborate coiffure that still left ringlets flowing down her bare back like a midnight river. Her outfit was also simple dove-gray linen, but for every inch of smooth golden skin it covered, it revealed two inches more. Her breasts were full and sat high on her frame, nipples pronounced through the thin fabric. Her hips were generous symmetrical curves and her buttocks were full and high, perched above the twin columns of perfection that were her legs.

Now she moved up the steps and sat herself at her father’s feet, softly stroking his calf and knee with long, elegantly tapered fingers. “Oh, Papa, you can’t possibly want to join the others who have gone on. There are so many who aren’t with us anymore...but how can we know if they’ve found something better?” Her eyes were moist, her perfect red lips trembling slightly as she gazed up into his face.” Her fingers moved up above his knee, to stroke the inside of his thigh. “Besides, it’s not really your last thunderbolt. You still possess a most potent rod of lightning, and I know you can employ it without diminishing its potency.” Her eyes half closed, she licked her lips with the tip of a pink, pink tongue. Zeus’ eyes on her lost some of their sullen bitterness as he noted the hardening of his daughter’s nipples beneath her almost non-existent garment. A corresponding hardness began to stir inside his kilt...it had been a very long time for the Father of the Gods, indeed.

Athena snorted, the distaste in her expression now even more evident as she watched her sister begin to kiss the great god’s leg, long, lingering, open-mouthed kisses. Her eyes, though, were curiously bright and she did not turn away. “Oh, give over, Aphrodite. The “Frightened Child” display was a gambit ancient when Homer was in swaddling clothes, and I have no patience for seduction now.” The narrow vertical line of a frown between her brows smoothed as she looked up into the face of Zeus. “Father, we know how unhappy you have been these many long years, as the mortals turned away from us and sought other more convenient deities to hold sway over their tiny existences. Countless are the hours that we three have cast about for a solution to this dismal half-life we have clung to for so long.” Now her eyes snapped and a fierce smile parted her lips. “We believe we may have devised something that may return us to our proper station as lords over the world of Men.” The frown returned as she watched Aphrodite, now openly caressing her father’s thigh, and rubbing her breasts against his lower legs. The Father of the Gods’ eyes were partly shut and he murmured, “Continue.” Athena couldn’t be sure if he was speaking to her or to her wanton sister. She frowned again, but her eyes had become fixed on the rising presence in Zeus’s lap.

The third figure, until now silent and brooding in his throne, now rose and came to stand next to Athena. He was a broad-chested man wearing only the same style of kilt as Zeus, his sensuous mouth and strong chin shrouded in a thick black beard and mustache. Thick black hair flowed down to the mid-point of his back, not in ringlets like his sisters but in rippling waves. A simple belt of scarred leather girdled his hips and bore a plain scabbard showing the hilt of a sword whose worn pommel and grip spoke eloquently of much use. His legs beneath the kilt were thick and strong, corded with muscle and covered in dark hair. His arms and shoulders were thickly muscled as well and scars of battle showed white against his dark tanned skin. Once again piercing gray eyes shone beneath heavy black brows, showing the common bond between all the Children of Olympus.

Those eyes swept over his sisters and father a moment, lingering on the Goddess of Love’s increasingly lewd display, before speaking in a voice that rumbled only a bit less than Zeus’. “Athena is right, Father. Between the three of us that remain beside you—Athena, Aphrodite and I, Ares—we believe we have found a way to return us to the Realm of Mortals, where we may once again take up our rightful place as rulers of that domain. Our problem has been one of belief—or the fading and disappearance of it amongst mortals. We feel we have crafted a tool and a means of employing it that will restore that faded belief, creating a power base from which we can once again assert our supremacy over mortals and rule them as we were meant to.” He bared his gleaming white teeth in a feral and ferocious grin. He placed his hand almost unthinkingly on his sister’s hip without taking his gaze away from Aphrodite. Her toga had now slipped down to her hips, revealing the round globes of her breasts, which quivered freely as she slid her body smoothly up her fathers legs, sliding her hands under Zeus’s kilt, where his satisfaction with her performance was quite evident. Athena did not remove Ares’ hand—indeed, she placed her hand over his and slid them both across her back and down until it rested on the roundness of her ass. She stared at her half-naked sister as she began servicing the Father of the God’s remaining thunderbolt with her mouth, and a small gasp or moan escaped her parted lips. Her nipples were almost painfully evident through the linen of her own garment, rubbing against the fabric maddeningly.

Pulling herself away from her ministrations to Zeus’s mighty cock, Aphrodite’s voice bore no trace of the coquettish girl she had been a moment ago. As she slid her hand smoothly up and down that awesome shaft under the chief god’s kilt she looked up in his face, full red lips shining as she spoke in a voice that was equal parts lust and business. Without halting the movement of her hand, she said softly, “Yes, Papa, we’ve taken traits and powers that are unique to each of us and devised a being who will be our portal, the gateway by which we will return to dominance over the mortals. All that remains is for someone who can still travel between Olympus and the mortal realm to deliver this creature of our devising,” her lips curled in a lascivious smile, “In the time-honored manner of our kind, of course.” Her mouth returned to its work, and Zeus moaned deep in his throat and tilted his head back closing his eyes.

Athena’s eyes were steady on her father’s face but her hand had now crept inside her toga. Ares, his kilt now prominently tented, also watched the scene before him avidly, his hand now directly on the warm smooth skin of his sister goddess. All of them knew who alone among them possessed that ability in their current attenuated state. Once they had all traveled freely between the realms, but with the fading of faith had come the waning of power, until only the Father of the Gods—Zeus himself—could breech the barrier. Zeus also had the longest history among them of “delivering parcels from Olympus”—to beautiful mortal women who struck his fancy, with the mighty tool the Goddess of Love was now devoting so much attention to. Heracles had been one such package, one of the more successful ones.

Zeus, eyes closed and lost in the sensations his daughter was giving him, felt the explosion building in him. He cared not that this was his daughter eagerly tonguing the head of his divine thunder bolt—they were, after all, gods, and the rules of mortals did not even enter into their realm. Indeed, this was the Goddess of Love thrusting her mouth down upon him, and no one could perform like she could.

Suddenly he gasped then let out a mighty roar as his seed boiled up in fierce jet that shot to the back of Aphrodite’s throat in a hot stream. She thrust her mouth down to the base of his cock, letting his cum blast down her throat, making sounds of contentment as her father found release through her skill. Athena went rigid as her fingers worked in her pussy, then suddenly gasped as her brother seized her roughly from behind, bunching the fabric of her toga on her hips, and thrust his steely, hot member into her. They both kept their eyes firmly fixed on their father and sister as the Goddess of Love now eagerly mounted her father’s still rampant cock, thrusting her dripping cunt down with ease onto the monster that thrust from Zeus’s lap. Facing him, her breasts bouncing freely in his face, she rode him harder and faster, while behind her Ares thrust almost violently into Athena. Her head tossed back, Aphrodite felt her own orgasm building quickly and as the wave crested in her body, she brought her head back down until she was looking in her father’s lust-filled face, a triumphant grin on her face as she came thunderously. Zeus had no trouble shooting a second hot stream of divine jism into the beautiful goddess’s cunt as she bucked furiously in the throes of a heavenly cum. Unnoticed by the couple on the throne, Athena and Ares came together, she with her head thrown back onto his shoulder, he with his lips and teeth fixed on the lobe of her ear. Their cries caused dusty marble in the dim far halls of empty Olympus to crack, and the floor beneath their feet trembled with the force of their mutual ecstasy.

All was silent for a while after that, until, holding his daughter’’ luscious nearly naked body against him, Zeus sat up, straightening in his seat while being careful not to dislodge the Goddess of Love from her perch on his still-throbbing member. His gaze was imperious but also loving as it fell first upon the raven tresses now spread across his broad chest, then upon the couple now slumped in a satisfied daze in Athena’s seat. When he spoke, his voice was a soft, affectionate rumble, and unfeigned emotion filled his face.

“My most loyal and loving children, you shame me. Your steadfast devotion and love has sustained me through this long age, and I have repaid you with ire and pique.” His fingers stroked the Love Goddess’s dark hair and he grinned. “You have reminded me of the power we still possess and how...potent...it can be. Please, forgive an old man, and pray tell me of this scheme and what part I can play in restoring us to our rightful seat in the hearts of Men.”

Aphrodite purred against him and ran a finger through the abundant gray hair on his chest. “First, Father, I think we shall have to give you a makeover.” She giggled, and Zeus’s chuckle rumbled in his chest.

Half naked and still impaled on Ares’ huge cock, Athena cast an appraising eye from her satisfied roost up and down her father’s form, then said in a sated yet analytical tone, “Yes. Firstly, O Mighty Zeus, we need to clean you up and trim that flab. I fear you would not draw even a second glance from a mortal in the state you’re in right now.”

Zeus’s laugh shook the halls of Olympus.