Euraphidrae, Goddess of Erotica, is interrupted in her life’s work of humping mortal and immortal alike by a command from the Gods of Olympus.
The treacherous Zeus has dark plans for both Euraphidrae and the centaur, Aziz, who are sent to deliver a message to the warlike Ice Giants, but what is the message? What is Zeus planning? What will the effect be on the developing relationship between Euraphidrae and Aziz?
I am Euraphidrae, Goddess of Erotica from Classical Antiquity. Do not look for me in the history books. You will not find me. The Gods themselves have sponged my name from history, and where the Gods lead, the mortals follow.
Back in those days, we all had certain responsibilities to the world. Ares would ensure that war was waged, Poseidon patrolled the seas, Aphrodite ensured that mortals fell in love and above us all sat Zeus, King of the Gods.
The days in old Olympus seldom varied. The Gods squabbled, plotted, seduced, got angry, were thwarted and all the while played with the lives of mortals on the earthly plane. I tended to avoid such pastimes. I found the Gods a dull lot. Few were truly intelligent; most were simply vain and arrogant.
We embodied what we were. Ares was warlike and wrathful; Hera, Goddess of Marriage yet married to the faithless Zeus, was bitter and vengeful; Dionysus was a crazed drunk forever engaging in any physical delight. I was desire and passion, but unlike the other Gods, I was pure passion—open, uninhibited, unashamed, standing equal to all my lovers.
My very existence perpetuated erotic deeds, poems, art. This was before such things were regarded as sinful and shameful, passions that would lead the unwary to damnation. Back in those days, we simply lived. Except I found the lives of the Gods to be utterly tedious. Each day was the same old intrigue, the same old petty jealousies, the same cliques and spite.
This did not make it easy to embody what I am in the realm of the Gods. It is difficult to be the embodiment of free lust when your paramour is Apollo, a God who loved his own reflection more than any other person, or Hebe, whose mindless chatter would transform all lustful thoughts into an irritated desire to leave. So, I had to make do.
Thankfully, Vulcan and his workers, the Titans, could be relied on to appreciate a Goddess, for they were wise, intelligent, non-judgemental and with varied body types that can keep a girl going back time and time again. Which I did.
The Titans were giants but lacked the godly powers to make themselves any size and shape. I would walk into their workshop and scale myself up to match. A tall human, to give you some idea, would be about the size of a Titan’s thumb.
Of them all, Vulcan himself was my favourite. He forged the armaments of the Gods. I would often sit and watch him work as he hammered raw materials into weapons for the battlefield. Watching his muscles bulge and the sweat run down his mighty frame would provoke licentious daydreams in me that washed over humanity worldwide, but they were truly innocent daydreams inspired by sensual bodies, never the weapons themselves. Unlike today, where all thoughts derive from the sweaty and lustful Cupid and probably contribute to the ongoing fetishisation of weapons that afflicts society.
Vulcan was wise enough to ignore me for several days at a time, letting the passion build, letting the lust grow as it remained unsatisfied, for often the pleasure of the tease, in not immediately getting what you desire, can make the final act all the sweeter.
