Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
I’m scrubbing the kitchen free of dust and humming an old Glistentide tune to myself when my skin prickles with awareness. Someone is standing behind me, and I turn around to see one of the Spidae. I wipe my hands off on my skirts (since I have no apron) and turn to him, lowering myself in a deep bow. “My lord Fate, how may I serve?”
“You are still down here.”
I’m not sure if it’s a statement or a question, and I straighten. When I look up, I realize that the man standing before me is not the blue-eyed Spidae from before. This one has silver eyes, and he watches me like a hawk watches prey. “I am,” I say to him, keeping my tone even. “I wanted to make sure the room was clean before I left.”
He glances around, then looks back at me. “It is clean now.”
“So it is.” The god seems to be waiting for something, and a ripple of awareness pricks at me. “Are you hungry, my lord Fate? Thirsty?”
“The gods do not have those needs.” His silvery gaze glitters.
“Do you have…other needs?”
That gets his focus. He nods, almost imperceptibly. “I am curious.”
I figured as much. I knew it was only a matter of time before one of them wanted to play with their new toy. But I’ve been in this sort of position before, and a body is just a body. So I give him a pleasant smile, hitch my skirts up to my waist, and bend over the large table in the center of the kitchen.
For a brief moment, I wonder if he’ll be offended. If he wants me in a bed instead, or if he wants me to suck his cock. But then a hand touches my flank, and I figure I’ve chosen correctly. It’s not about me. Never is. It’s about trying out a new plaything. I think about the other Spidae, the one with the blue eyes, and how he didn’t like my falsely bright smiles. No fake orgasms, then. I try to think if there would be some other sort of response that would please the god. Prayers? Supplication of some kind?
But then he’s on me, his weight heavy against my thighs as he presses me against the table. For a moment, he fumbles against my cunt, prodding but not making any headway, and grunts with displeasure.
Right. “A moment, my lord Fate,” I murmur. I lick my palm wetly, dragging my fingers in and out of my mouth until they’re slick and dripping, and then reach down to my cunt, and shove my fingers inside. A moment later, he’s there again, and this time he pushes into me.
My breath hitches at the size of him and the vaguely uncomfortable burn of his body as he thrusts into me, but that goes away quickly enough, and I lie still and quiet underneath him. He smells like dust, and he moves so hard and quick against me that his long hair teases my flanks. It’s strange, though. He doesn’t even grip my hips. He tries not to touch me at all, which is odd. The god grunts once again, and then something cold and wet floods my insides. That makes me squirm with a hint of surprise, but of course a god doesn’t cum like other men. It’s different, and I shouldn’t be surprised.
“Thank you, my lord Fate,” I murmur.
“Why are you thanking me?” His softening cock leaves my body and then his weight is gone.
“For honoring me,” I reply automatically.
“Are you honored, then?” There’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Am I? In a way, I suppose I am. A god had sex with me. I’ve had two gods inside my body now—Aron and now this Spidae. It amuses me that I probably have the holiest cunt this side of Aventine. “A god’s favor is always an honor,” I admit, and it’s the truth. When there’s no response, I shake my skirts down and straighten, pushing off the table. I turn around and no one is there.
I’m in the room alone. Hmph.
For a god, the silver-eyed Spidae has terrible manners. The least he could do is give me a pat of approval…if he approves of me at all.
Something wet and sticky trails down the inside of my thigh, and his cum feels different than expected. I shove my hand under my skirts and touch my pussy, wiping away strands of his thick release. When I pull my hand back out and examine it, I see spiderwebs.
I can’t decide if I’m revolted or amused.
A few days pass, and they begin to form a pattern. When I wake up, one of the Spidae is there, watching me. Usually it’s the blue-eyed one, as he seems more fascinated with me than the others. I lay on my back and let him use my body, staying quiet so I don’t give him false responses, and he seems content to thrust into me a few times and then finishes.