Modern Pantheon Ares

To think, this guy really thinks of himself in the same caliber as a god!

Mary didn't have to fight to keep her face a mask of passion. It came pretty much instinctively these days. For all of the skill he lacked, she had to admit the man behind her was better endowed than most of the guys she let fuck her. At least she could actually

feel

him when he did doggy style.

In the end, it didn't really matter if the

gringo

could make her cum. He'd proven himself time and again to be the baddest motherfucker on the block. Hell, near as she could tell, he was the baddest S.O.B. in the country, maybe even the world.

He'd found her on the streets. No surprise there. He was a banger and she grew up in the worst kind of slums. Her choices had been pathetic, or worse. She could have spit out a couple of kids and lived on welfare, found herself a pimp and sold her body and soul to him or hitched herself to a gang. She didn't particularly want kids, at least not yet, and this way she only had to screw one guy at a time.

So what if she was little more than a trophy for some dick's ego? She could ask for anything she wanted and he'd get it for her. He couldn't risk beating her or else he'd lose prestige. At least so long as she didn't talk back too much, any way. She was already nineteen years old. Her looks wouldn't last forever and once they started to slip, she'd have to finally pop out those kids.

Better still, she got to travel. That hadn't been true of the guys before him. So maybe he deserved to think of himself like a god. After all, he could fly! Sure, he needed an airplane like the rest of the mortals, but exactly how small of a percentage of the population could afford to jetset from one city to the next, like, every week? And first class, with his girl to boot!

Hell, the fact that he took her along spoke wonders about him. Most bangers would have dumped her where he found her and picked up some new

puta

in each new city.

No. If he wanted to think of himself as a god, let him. Mary wasn't about to go throwing stones at his ego any more than she would point out that he had no sense of style. The punk mohawk was decidedly out of fashion and the baggy pants around his thighs was not only on its way out, he was the wrong race for it. With his skinny-ass hips, it ended up looking more accidental than intentional.

But damn those hips had power. Whatever the wannabe god lacked in skill, he had a divine body, that was for sure! Every inch of him was covered in taught, hard, muscle. Better still, it was the honest kind that came from working and fighting, not the showy useless crap that people put on at the gym.

Now, if only he could get some skill behind all that potential!

Mary thought, as she moaned some not insincere encouragements. Maybe if he

did

go a little harder and faster she'd be close enough that she could finish herself off before she left the bathroom.

Really, she knew better. Those kind of encouragements were almost as good as "don't cum yet" for getting a guy to finish. They never actually worked to serve as the instructions they were intended to be. The moment she begged him to go faster, his rhythm began to falter.

Mary's gasp of surprise and delight wasn't feigned. Every single time, just before she let him cum inside her, he'd grow suddenly. She'd never actually seen it. Even when she'd sucked him off and held him in front of her face, she could feel the sensation in her hands but her eyes insisted nothing special happened.

Whatever the truth, it was the closest he ever brought her to climax. Better still, the pulses continued for as long as he continued to cum inside her.

Mary pressed her body against the wall in order to give him more leverage to thrust harder. It was easy in the miniscule cabin. Everyone always went on and on about joining the Mile High Club but it really wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Even the first-class bathroom was barely big enough for one person, much less two!

At last, the supposed-god slumped against her. For all that she hadn't finished, she didn't mind. Although he no longer felt like the swollen thing that might actually push her over the edge, he still felt comfortable inside of her. She didn't have to worry that he might fall out as he grew limp. She certainly didn't have to wonder if he'd already fallen out and was dribbling down her leg unbeknownst.

All of that warm muscle was pressed against her back. It was comforting in a kind of primal way. And why shouldn't she accept that? Feminists always went on about being your own strength or some crap like that. Where Mary lived the world was almost back to those primal beginnings. If you weren't strong enough to protect yourself against those bigger than you, you damned well better

find

someone who could!

A simple little motion truly shocked a gasped out of Mary. His hand shifted from where he'd firmly held her hips down and around. She didn't think he even knew what her clit was for, much less how to play with it.

Her whole body shook with the sudden attention. He'd sparked the desire with that pulsing of his and her body would not ignore him. It was what she'd have done anyway and this was more courtesy than he'd ever shown. Hell, it was more than all of the guys she'd had put together had ever shown!

One moment his weight pressed her face into the cabin wall and the next it was her back. His arm crossed her shoulders to hold her firmly in place. If it came within inches of crushing her throat, that suddenly seemed exciting and fresh.

There was no question that his other hand drove her nuts. He was strong enough that very little of her weight rested against the counter he'd pushed her onto. Meanwhile, his hand cupped and groped between her legs. She could feel her own lust begin to cover his fingers as they ground against her now-throbbing cunt.

"Oh..." His hand flashed up to cover her mouth, and most of her face, in his haste to silence her. She'd been careful not to moan too loudly when she faked it for him. She hadn't realized that she wouldn't be able to control herself if someone else actually did it for her. She could barely breathe but the other choice was for the whole plane to hear her.

Fear surged through Mary's veins when his hand stopped grinding deliciously into her and pulled out a knife. Her first thought was to wonder how he'd managed to get it past security. The idle speculation instantly vanished when reality reasserted itself and she stared into her own wide eyes in the pristine reflection of the blade.

What had she done? She hadn't betrayed him! Sure, some hot guys had hit on her but she hadn't even so much as blown them, like she would have with past boyfriends. She hadn't snitched. She'd been the model trophy for him!

Mary fought to convince herself the fear was unwarranted. She

hadn't

betrayed him and he'd never shown even a remote tendency to get off on hurting people. Sure, he was violent but that was all about the challenge of a fight. She wasn't a challenge at all so he shouldn't care about testing her. Besides, this was an airplane at thirty-five thousand feet. It's not like he'd be able to stash her body.

Her eyes remained wide with panic, even as he spun the knife to point it at the ground. His hand dropped with all of the speed and precision she'd come to expect when he fought. Trapped as she was, she couldn't follow the progress of the weapon but she knew it had dropped dangerously close to...well, she really didn't want to think about it.

Until she felt it. The actual shape hadn't dawned on her, when she stared at the knife's handle. The stacked-ball design would allow for a better grip when held by a sweaty hand in combat. When slid up inside of her, the hilt felt like the most miraculous ribbed dildo she'd ever encountered.

Mary would never admit to anyone how much that panic had turned her on. It was one thing to admit that a show of strength did it for her but another entirely if couched in the form of abuse. She was ashamed of the fact that he could have cut her and the display of power would have brought her closer to climax.

As it was, she didn't have to admit to anything. He jammed the blunt handle of the knife inside of her with as little finesse as he'd rammed himself. This time, however, that simple guard that protected his fingers pressed front and back in time with each thrust. All at once, the little round balls at the tips of the guard pressed against her clit and ass, even as the tip of the handle dug deep enough to set off a thunderstorm inside of her.

There was no question that Mary blessed the hand that covered her mouth. Sure, she couldn't breathe but that had become difficult with the sheer power that quickly built up within her. The pilots in the cockpit, and probably most of first class, could surely hear her growing screams of bliss even with his hand in place.

Mary's eyes fluttered shut. With so many sensations just between her legs, deep between her hips, she couldn't handle input from the rest of her senses. Even her t-shirt was a torture device intent on overwhelming her scattered mind. The miniskirt, bunched between her ass and the hard metal counter, warred with the constricting pressure that erupted within her body and threatened to spill out any minute.

If he hadn't been able to accommodate her demands before, he did so now despite her inability to express them. The improvised dildo began to ram harder and faster into her. She finally discovered that the clichéd request actually worked as the ball of blazing electricity at the tip of the knife's handle finally burst and shattered molten sparks throughout her body.

Mary was certain she screamed as an orgasm finally crashed over her. Her hips tried to shift, to urge him deeper, but the combination of her scattered nerves and his solid strength prevented her any motion. All she could do was writhe helplessly against the wall, trapped like some specimen from her third-grade science class, while he jammed more and more heaven directly into her body.

She writhed. She jerked. She screamed. If he'd let her, she would have pleaded with him to stop, or maybe go faster, or maybe even put her out of her ecstasy! She'd never been able to drive herself to this level. She hadn't even known it could exist. She couldn't even think beyond the onslaught of sheer

feel

.

There was no clear dividing line between heaven and when it stopped. She didn't even realize he no longer pressed her against the mirror until she finally noticed him wiping down the knife with a paper towel. She felt thoroughly spent and knew she'd need his help to get back to her seat. Hell, she thought she might need him to help her stand and walk when they reached the airport in a few hours.

"I'm the god of war. Of

warriors

!" He said, almost conversationally. The perpetual growl of his voice affected her as it never had before. It was a visceral thing that drove straight into her body and caused those muscles, seldom used until only a minute before, and never as powerfully, to clench with pure need.

"You want soldiers and tactics, find that bitch of a sister of mine. Warriors like the challenge, the thrill, of a direct conflict. It's

her

who deals with deceit and underhanded maneuvers."

Mary stared at him, in a daze. Why was he talking about his sister? She didn't even know he had a family. He'd never spoken about them before. What did they have to do with anything? Why would he bring them up after the miracle he'd just shown her?

"You've been lying to me since the day we met."

"No!" Mary squeaked out, horrified. There was a fire in his eyes, she finally noticed, that usually only appeared when he was about to take on the next gang's leader. By the time he got back to her, afterwards, it had transformed into something very different. An entirely different need.

Anger flashed across his expression and it terrified her. She didn't think he'd hurt her. Mostly, it was the realization that he thought she'd betrayed him. After what he'd just done, she didn't want to lose him. She

couldn't

lose him!

"War is passion!" He growled. "It is the warrior's drive to ever become greater! How can I challenge myself, how can I become better, if I'm not allowed to learn from my missteps? All this time you've

faked it

!

"When we land in Detroit, you're on your own. Find your way home, find a banger to protect you, hell, give yourself to an entire damn

gang

! I don't care. You couldn't be honest with me I want nothing to do with you."

Before Mary could respond, he was gone. Maybe out the door but she didn't think she'd seen him open it. He must have, though, because it now held the slightly folded position that these doors always were in when they'd been left open.

She stared. It didn't even occur to her to lock the door. It didn't matter that she was still naked from the waist down and any Tom, Dick or Sally could wander in and get a free show. All that mattered was that he'd left her, once more, to the mercies of the world.

Even before he'd given her that amazing gift, minutes before, he'd been the best thing she'd ever had. And now, he was gone. She'd known him long enough to know that he didn't change his mind. He made a decision and that was that. She could beg and plead until she was blue in the face, promise that things would be different, but it would do no good.

Maybe a minute passed until finally the door unfolded open once more. A small flare of hope blossomed that he had changed his mind and returned. The gray-haired man in a suit shattered that delusion in an instant.

The old dude froze at the sight that greeted him. He mumbled an apology but he didn't back out. His eyes spoke the truth. This man was hungry. The ring on his finger told a different tale but he clearly didn't care.

At a loss with the world, Mary shifted her position and beckoned him in. It no longer mattered. Nothing did. He could have her body if he could give her what she needed to survive. Nothing would ever give her back what she'd just lost.

Copyright January 2012, by Deathlynx