Thread: A Praise to Bacchus ( Father x Shadow)

Aurelia grew still at his words, her body petrified as she struggled to understand. Nobility? Reserve? Were those guesses? Her mind screamed at the alternative. If he had known, had taken her knowingly, what sort of monster did that make him? What did it make her? Despite the horrors racing through her mind, her body reacted almost automatically to his presence, his calming voice, the even tone of advice so freely given. It was a voice she knew, one she trusted, and one that had ever steered her feet toward the proper path. He still did, she realized. He urged her to draw upon the steady grace that she'd known with her station, the poise that quieted her inner turmoils and hid her weaknesses that others might turn against her. His kiss was safe, without lust, the kind he'd given her many times as she'd grown. He could feel the change almost immediately. Her tears ceased to fall. Her trembling body stilled against him. Only the slightest shiver rolled through her as he slid his cock free. His spoken command released her more than his open arms might, and she stepped from the altar, once more in control of herself. She quivered within, still trying to deny the events that had occurred and the pleasures he'd given her, but there was no outward sign of her inner struggles. She was disheveled in the service of Bacchus, but there was purpose in her step and determination in the line of her naked back. She did not look at him as she took her robes from the altar and slipped them back on to cover her shameless nudity. She did not look at him as she descended into the pit of lustful orgies that raged on about them. His seed leaked from her, spilling down her creamy inner thighs, dripping from her cunt, and still she revealed nothing of her discomfort. She was of House Regulus. Failure would not be tolerated. Several overtures greeted her as she moved through the devoted worshipers, but she spurned them with an outstretched hand. No, she would not be enjoying the delights of others this night. She could not. The memory of her father's cock thrusting inside of her haunted her every thought. No man would be able to entice her to lust after such an experience. She gathered her cloak from the antechamber and stepped onto the street, soon lost in the maze of roads and paths that sprawled through the city. Her careful restraint dissolved the moment she found herself alone within her chambers. Releasing the sob that had been building, she threw off her mask, flinging it from her violently. It struck the wall and landed upon the floor, the delicate metals battered like Aurelia's soul. Her clothing fell to the floor and she plunged into the sunken tub, steamy waters splashing over her. Frantically, she scrubbed away the feel of his hands upon her, the press of his back, the winding fingers threading through her hair, but it was not enough. Her body might be cleansed, but her mind could never be. The images replayed again and again, each detail etched into her memory forever. In the end, she could do naught but huddle within the tub, holding herself as her father had once held her. The woman was forgotten. It was the girl who wept.