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Thread: A Praise to Bacchus ( Father x Shadow)

Though somewhat disappointed that he hadn't taken her immediately on the steps, Aurelia was a patient woman. Her attentions continued, teasing and soft, until they reached the inner shrine. Laid down upon the stone, she smiled against the finger he pressed to her lips, but questioned not his actions. It was implied that she would be a sacrifice to Bacchus, and she felt honored to have been selected. But why shouldn't she be? Her body was a temple, a praise to the god himself, perfectly created by the mother and father that conceived her. Had he ever seen her completely nude? Witnessed the perfection of those young, pert orbs with blushed nipples that had already hardened to tight buds that pierced the sky? Had he seen the smooth curve of her stomach as it dipped to her sex that already glistened with her desire? How long had he lusted after her womanly form, so nubile and lissom? Laid out as a willing sacrifice, her body arched against the stone as welcome hands caressed her pliant flesh, rubbing until her skin was slick and fragrant with the holy oil. Her curls, so artfully piled atop her head, now spilled about her face like a dark halo. Little lambs were often brought to the temple for slaughter, but never had one been so willing or impure of thought. A soft moan rose in praise to their god as his mouth found her, and her legs spread even wider for his worship. She was ready for him, lustfully wet, drops of pearlescent dew collected upon her womanly flower. Her body was flushed and trembled at his touch, quivering with anticipation. Behind her mask, her eyes fluttered closed, but her lips remained alluringly parted as she released a shuddering breath. Last edited Jul 8, 2018
Thread: A Praise to Bacchus ( Father x Shadow)

His fingers slid to grip her bottom, oiled and slick, having to grip viciously hard in order to maintain hold. He would bruise her in several ways before this night was over, he promised himself that, and he took in the view with the look of a penitent man being offered salvation. Had he ever seen her nude before? He had in only stolen glances as he waited hidden behind vestibules to watch her engaged with other men and women, or in brief moments where he peered through curtains to see her bathing. He had never seen her like this, a sculpted goddess given life, and in that moment he knew that she was more than just his daughter. She was the vessel of his god, created to bring about the greatest heights of desire and decadence, born to break the will of even the strongest. Perhaps he should have been afraid by what the meant for himself, but he did not give in to such thoughts, not with her dripping sex spread open and waiting for him to partake of. No inch was left untouched by his ravenous mouth. He leaned close, the heady scent of her aroma caught on the air, the smell of her beautiful flesh. His tongue came out to caress along her labia, slow and steady as he traced every inch to taste her nectar, and with a low groan he moved forward and closed his eyes. His fingers raised her up like a cup that he was drinking from, pressing her completely against his lips. His tongue delved hard into her, again and again, opening her with practiced ease before sliding up to expertly expose her hard clitoris to his ministrations. The moan of the man shivered against willing flesh as he suctioned her, lips catching that exposed flesh as his tongue began to flick with wicked determination, encouraging her to ride his handsome face. All the while one thumb slid, the holy oil making it an easy exercise of pressing hard against her wriggling anus...pushing in with ease. He was aroused himself, his thick shaft aching, but he paid it no mind nor did any attendant reach to aid him in his endeavors. Tonight was for her alone, she would be the only one he took, and with the way his mask was moving with the grinding of her hips she might very well see who was providing the pleasure she so richly deserved that night. Soon there would be no chance to hide that it was her father, but in his lust he was uncaring, all that matter was supplicating the god with this offering of her ambrosia on his altar.
Thread: A Praise to Bacchus ( Father x Shadow)

Perhaps, if Aurelia had been in possession of her senses, she might have glimpsed the identity of the man pleasuring her and been horrified to learn it was her father, but her only concern at that moment was the rising torrent of passion sweeping through her body. His tongue worked in wicked ways upon her sex, lapping at the salty sweet honey that her body provided for his pleasure. She groaned as he entered her with his tongue and again as his mouth found her clit. The tiny node was throbbing loudly, as loud as her beating heart in her ears, as if begging for more. Her slender form arched from the altar again as his thumb probed, providing another swift rush of pulsating sensation to her aching sex. She was soaring above them all, ascending to new heights, propelled upward by his mouth. Other hands had departed, leaving them alone upon the altar, and she reveled in the worship of her sopping womanhood. Her hips bucked almost involuntarily, seeking to ride his face, wanting more of what he was offering to the gods. His crushing grip drew her close so that they were nearly one in the same, merged by lust and desire, though it still was not enough. She knew not his identity, but she wanted him, wanted that first teasing orgasm, and she was determined to have it. Rising, one hand upon the altar to provide stability, she used the other to grip his hair tightly and smother him with her folds. His raven-like beak cut into her mound, but even that small pinprick of pain was lost in the moment. Her head rocked back, teeth clamped down upon her lower lip, eyes closed as she whimpered. Higher she flew, hips bucking against his face, unwilling to allow even the slightest moment of rest that could shatter her world. Grinding her sex upon his mouth as he'd so often dreamed, she found the first of the many releases she would surely have that evening. Mouth flying open, she screamed her pleasure to Bacchus himself, laying her climax at his feet in supplication. It was a glorious explosion, bursting free from the tongue within her folds to crash through the entirety of her being. Wave upon wave pounded against her and cast her adrift in the seas of blissful pleasure. Her body trembled beneath his mouth and he was rewarded with a new rush of fluid that coated his mouth and chin. Quaking with small aftershocks of lust, she collapsed back on the covered stone, hair tousled and limbs askew in a perfect tableau of sexual gratification.
Thread: A Praise to Bacchus ( Father x Shadow)

Even if she had not recognized what had happened, Aurelius had, and in her throes of passion as she supplicated herself before their god...she had also removed that Raven mask. His features were stern, no softness to them, the features of a man given to a rigorous life. It would come as a surprise to so many his predilections, his willingness to pursue the hedonistic aspects of life. It should not though, not psychologically, for many who pursued a life of dedication and devotion were often the ones that required the greatest release from their pent up desires. That brow furrowed as the eyes gazed hungrily at the open and willing flesh before him, his tongue coming to caress across the lips of her cunt and tasted her once again, taunting her even in the terrible aftermath of her orgasm, knowing she was frighteningly sensitive. It would draw her eyes down, but only for a moment, the barest glimpse of the shock of his dark hair before he acted upon his desires. His hands took hold of her hips and with a swift motion rolled her over onto her stomach. The hands on her hips were rough and calloused, oddly familiar even with the slickness of the blessed oil upon her skin, and with one terrible move he was up and standing behind her, jerking her back so that her legs fell splayed on the edge of the stone. It was abrasive and even cruel to her flesh, the stonework biting into her, and yet it did not deter this beast of a man from mounting her. A hand moved up to fist into her hair, jerking her head slightly back into an arch as his other hand gripped her shoulder to steady her and with one brutal motion he thrust within her perfect body. He speared her. There was no other description for the act of what he did to her, for in that thrusting of his hips he hilted her in one swift vicious motion. It was not the impressive length of that weapon used to breach the young woman, forcing her to accept him fully, that would wring a cry from her. It was the thick girth of that shaft, the man's own hand barely able to wrap round the heavy cock. It was this which pummeled her open and once he took her properly the true nature of this moment became apparent. He would sate himself with her tight flesh, he would break her upon the Bacchus's altar, and her cries would reach the ears of the god himself. Fingers tugged her back into each vicious thrust, slamming deep, each motion nearly taking him from her body before impaling back into the core of her. He wanted to hurt her, he wanted to please her, he wanted to imprint himself upon his daughter's flesh so that no man who came after him could ever compare.
Thread: A Praise to Bacchus ( Father x Shadow)

The teasing lick to her sensitive pussy made her shiver and moan softly, but Aurelia didn't move from her sprawl until he physically flipped her onto her stomach. The sudden shift with those powerful hands made her gasp in surprise as did the jerk that brought her halfway off the altar. Her breasts were saved by the robe beneath her, but her legs and stomach were abraded harshly by the stone. If there was any pain involved, it scarcely had time to register as he took hold of her and penetrated her inner depths with his meaty cock. Though sufficiently lubricated by virtue of his wicked tongue, she'd contracted in orgasm and was tight around the shaft that pistoned inside her. The feeling was almost too much to bear. She was being split in twain and each powerful thrust of his hips drove him further into her depths. It was the largest cock she'd ever taken and the force of it made her knees weak with pleasure. Her body shook on the altar as he pounded, hips and legs crushed against stone. Her toes barely touched the ground and scrabbled to maintain support as he increased his tempo. Caught by the hair, her body arched backward like a bow, strung tightly and waiting to launch an orgasmic arrow into her throbbing cunt. His attack, like the man himself, was direct and vicious, but, as in life, her body grew accustomed to his demanding assault. The feeling of his cock ramming inside her was glorious. Her delicate hands pressed against the altar, and she used the leverage to push back against him, firm breasts bouncing wildly with every countered thrust. Their bodies were soon moving together, slamming with a ferocity she had rarely seen, and had unknowingly missed. She screamed her cries to the heavens, vocal in her praise of the man's prowess and her intense love of his cock. Rarely, if ever, had he heard such filth spew from his daughter's lips. Aurelia's conversation was careful and strategic, never vulgar or crude, but here, in the sight of Bacchus and his worshipers, he had unleashed the wild animal trapped within. The Bacchanalia continued about them in a clamor of writhing naked bodies and masked worshipers, but the crowd had long since fallen from her consciousness, made invisible by the misty haze of lust. Aurelia had no knowledge of anything save the strong hands that gripped her tight and the massive tool driving her ever closer to another orgasm.
Thread: A Praise to Bacchus ( Father x Shadow)

Ah, the recognition! He had known it would be coming, he had planned it of course, but his young daughter did not know that as of yet. His answer as to how she would react had come as swift as Jupiter's lightning, the sob catching and tugging at his heartstrings even as his seed spilled deep within her womb. How could he explain the twisted horror inside of him that actually appreciated the emotional trauma he had just inflicted on his own flesh and blood? The defilement that even Bacchus himself might not even forgive? Perhaps it was to Pluto that he owed his actual allegiance, this man who had twisted the very fabric of his daughter's life and terribly thrust upon her this sin without her willingness to be party to it. His hands tightened as she struggled to flee, the strong arms turning her attempts into small jerks that the others there could not interpret as panic on the young woman's part. It would do them ill for the high priests and priestesses of the temple to recognize that something was amiss, even if they did not know what. His voice was quiet and determine as he spoke into her ear. Calm, calm, if you must flee then do so, but with a purpose. Do not let this night end in sorrow. You are nobility, show some reserve and pull yourself together. Did that mean he knew who she was? Had he guessed at this from the way she had moved and presented herself? He had not reacted poorly to her attempt to flee the premises, but instead had cautioned her against doing so with haste and lack of control. The words were something her father very well might have said to her in a lesson on proper public etiquette, discussing the finer points of never revealing your true feelings to an enemy for all to see. It was always that way with Aurelius, every lesson had a barb to it, a reminder that the truth of one's being was a weakness to never be shared. Had it been his intention all along that his underlying lesson was to lead to this moment between the two of them? The answer would remain a mystery as he took the time to kiss her once again. There was a roughness in the moment, a demand that even in her tortured state he would not let her leave without ensuring the night went the way he had dreamt that it would. His lips were not cruel, there was no depth to the kiss, but instead it was a kiss consoling her. A slow and gentle pressure of his lips which turned her face away from the crowd and kept her locked against him in their final moments. That thick prick within her gave one final pulse before slipping free, his cum dripping out of her tight flesh to spatter against the floor and dribble along her inner thighs. Already a one of the acolytes had come to clean them both, lapping the sacred fluid from the marble tile before wrapping her mouth around Aurelius's cock and cleaning him slowly. He paid no mind to the ministrations of the young priestess, his focus solely on Aurelia and as the kiss ebbed his fingers eased their hard grip upon her shoulders and chest, his voice soft as he whispered gently into her ear. Steady and calm. You may go.
Thread: A Praise to Bacchus ( Father x Shadow)

Her tears had dried and her sobs quieted. She felt too weak to mourn the loss of what had been, too weak to lift herself from the tub. So she settled in its warmth, forehead resting upon her knees, her arms holding her thighs tightly against her chest. She drifted as the water stilled about her. It was quiet, though she could still hear the revelry in her ears, the moaning, the cries of pleasure and pain. She had once enjoyed those celebrations, but now the memories soured and twisted. She heard his steps upon the hall before her mind recognized the sound. Even when he spoke, the words failed to register. Her mind felt muffled and sluggish, as though she'd imbibed in too much wine or had slept too little. A flicker of shadow drew her gaze to the doorway, pulling her from the vicious thoughts that plagued her, plunging her back into a reality she didn't wish to rejoin. Her chin lifted as a spark of something filled her chest. Anger, she realized. He'd known and had still completed the rites. He'd known. Reaching for her robe, she drew it about her naked body as she rose from the bath, water running in rivulets down her skin as she strode to meet him. He could see the anger there when she neared, the same expression that appeared upon his own face when his will was defied. She'd had her wallow in pity and pushed it aside to embrace the rage that welled up within her chest. The strength of it fueled her to do something she'd never done before. She struck him. Her palm connected with his cheek in a crack that bounced off the marble tiles and filled the room. Tears fell, rolling down her cheeks, though did nothing to dampen the animosity within her gaze. She hated him in that moment, or at least hated his depraved nature. Just then, they were one in the same. You knew, she accused him in a hissing whisper. When? When did you know? From the moment you saw me naked? The moment you heard my voice? Or was it when I arrived? You knew and still you allowed this to happen! Deny it! Deny it and I shall believe you!
Thread: A Praise to Bacchus ( Father x Shadow)

He was not surprised at the vicious blow, nor the accusations been levied against him, and she had every right to spew her anger upon him. It was for the best in truth for the anger would be like a poison on her very soul if they allowed it to fester within her. This moment would serve not as a balm, but as a blade which would cut the wound and allow that terrible emotion to come free. Yet he did not waver in his countenance, the stoic features accepting the blow as his head turned just a hair's breadth as the strong muscles of his neck and shoulders tightened in practiced response. His daughter was no frail waif and he had seen that she had never wanted for instruction in athleticism and the soldier's arts, even if she was a woman, and the blow levied upon him was fierce. It did not split the skin but the sound of the impact resonated in the room as his cheek darkened. Surely he would bruise. If he was any other man he would have quailed in fact of such animosity, instead his gaze turned back upon her as he stepped closer. Facing off with her. The voice held measured repose, even in that moment, cool and collected. I do not deny it. It is far worse than you can imagine. It was I who orchestrated the events you attended, I who watched as you spilled your cries to the heavens, and I who understood the kind of woman you are. You may hate me, but will you deny me? Will you deny what you have found within yourself, twin to my own hungers, or in your hatred will you turn away from the truth of your needs? The words almost seemed curious as to the response he would receive but the eyes, the eyes said something completely different. As if they were speaking on another plane of reality. Those eyes were wild with fire, the adulation and lust, with a wish for her to accept him as he was. Who else could accept him, who else could understand him, but her? He had defiled her, true, yet she had been exalted in the defilement. Worshipped and adored, taken and possessed, and this was the man who had done so. Standing before her, standing there, and even if she was the one who was near nude in his presence. Even if she was the one who stood with tears falling down her face...it was he who felt vulnerable to the only one who could ever make him so. In creating her, in raising her, and in pursuing her he had created the only human being in the world who could ever hurt him. This man could never say what was in his eyes.
Thread: A Praise to Bacchus ( Father x Shadow)

The revelation came like a physical blow to her gut, and she took a few staggering steps backward, one hand pressed to her chest in a vain attempt to quell the frantic beating of her heart. She stared at him in bewilderment, seeing a stranger in the face she'd known her entire life. His eyes were not the eyes of her loving father. She had seen those eyes before in the look of men that wished to possess her, those that lusted for her, in the sex-glazed stare of one indulging in her body. Those eyes would haunt her, she knew, and she would never be free of them. It was far worse than she could ever have imagined. Not only had he known her identity before taking her as a lover, he'd engineered her life of depravity! Aurelia's chest constricted as her world crumbled about her. Her mind raced, remembering every invitation, every stolen caress, every man that had used her body during the rites of Bacchus, each time she'd taken a man to her bed and the excitement of doing something deliciously naughty beneath her father's roof without his knowledge -- all of it had been him. Perhaps he'd never touched her inappropriately before that very night, but just the same, every hand upon her had been his and each cock thrust into her had been his doing. Bile rose in her throat at the sickening thought. Worse yet, he was not wrong in his assessment of her. No matter who had orchestrated her rebellious life of sexual exploration and corruption, she had enjoyed every indulgence, reveled in each moment as the object of someone's desires. The path had been set before her, yes, but she had been the one to place her delicate foot upon it. Step by step, she had descended into that wicked immorality, seduced by the prospect of being worshiped and abused, cherished and desecrated. No one had forced her into the lifestyle nor enslaved her to devotion of Bacchus. Perhaps he'd made the introduction and awakened her darker nature, but it was she who had given the shadows a place to flourish. Her legs struck her reclining couch as she took another step back, and she slowly lowered herself to the cushioned surface, her eyes falling away from his. Staring at the wet tiles between them, she tried to focus on her brightly burning hatred, but it was growing dimmer with every passing heartbeat. Perhaps she would always carry with her a smoldering ember of contempt for what he'd done, but she would not let it consume her. He had trained her far too well to allow such decay of spirit. But could she deny his words, returns his accusations, flog him from her room with words alone? No. It wasn't possible. He would not flee so easily, nor could he be so easily broken -- not by her, nor anyone. Her expression was unguarded in his presence, open to his scrutiny, and he could see the struggle of emotion warring for dominance in the draw of her brow and set of her lips. He saw her answer before she ever opened her mouth to utter the words. No, Father, she whispered. I could deny you nothing.