“You have no right!” Persephone said, clutching her cheek. She tasted copper on her tongue.

“I have a god-given right,” Hades said, her mouth twisted on one side, as though she resented having to be grateful to Zeus for anything. “Do not make me tell you again.”

Persephone slowly moved her hands above her head, palms up. Hades grabbed her wrists again, straightening her arms, then took her perizoma and used it to tie her wrists together before securing them to the bed frame.

Persephone’s cheek stung. She cautiously probed the inside of her mouth, tasting more copper. She must have bitten herself in shock.

Hades kissed her cheek, which made it throb, and scooped up Persephone’s legs behind the knee, pushing them up and to either side.

If there was ever a time she needed the dreaming earth, it was now, now, now. But she didn’t dare turn to it as Hades kissed a line across the inside of her thighs, not pausing until she reached Persephone’s core.

Persephone’s fingers curled into fists as Hades found her sex. The movement of Hades’ tongue made Persephone arch her back, prevented from rising off the bed by the pressure of Hades’ hands upon her thighs.

Hades paused and lifted her head, her lips glistening in the candlelight. “You are still here. Good.” She stroked Persephone’s hip as if to underscore her approval, then lowered her head once more.

It felt softer and less urgent than the times when she’d touched herself. Persephone tried to move her hands, and the cords cut into her wrists, too narrow for comfort. The strings not only anchored her to the bed but to her body, the gnawing sting keeping her in the present moment.

The soft sounds of Hades’ tongue upon her flesh were obscene. Persephone shifted, placing her foot on Hades’ shoulder and trying to push her away, but it was as though the goddess were made of stone. She pulled at her bonds once more, but it seemed her skin would break before either the bed frame or the knotted cords.

Hades did not stop. If the sensations had been unpleasant, or merely distracting, Persephone might not have minded so much. But she could not deny Hades’ skill. How many lovers had she taken, over the ages? Had any of them lain in this very same bed?

From the knowledge of her own body, Persephone knew she was close to release. She shifted, trying to angle her hips to provide less contact with Hades’ tongue, but the way Hades was pinning her to the bed made it impossible to move far. The slight rocking of her hips only served to inflame the sensations, until at last she could not hold herself back. Persephone dug her nails into her palms and turned her face into the pillow, willing herself not to scream as Hades pushed her into unbidden spasms of pleasure.