tagSci-Fi & FantasyThe Bacchae

The Bacchae

bydr_mabeuse©

By the time they reached the crest of the hill and the shadow of the forest, the sky was black and the broad sash of the milky way had emerged over their heads like a river of stars. It was the third and most sacred night of the festival of Dionysus and the moon was at her full, the air dry yet gentle with just a hint of the autumnal excitement that always signaled His coming. Here on the crown of the hill, where the deep pine forest gave way to scattered oak trees, the leaves had not yet begun to turn, and nature was still at her richest and most generous, though the crickets and cicadas were singing in the tall grass, prophets of the fall to come.

The four youths emerged over the brow of the hill, laughing and talking. Helene and Penelope held each other up, weary from the climb, wreaths of ivy in their hair. Meneus and Telemachus danced after them, blankets and wineskins slung over their backs. The boys alternately urged the girls on and teased them, jumping at them with fearful roars, spreading their hands like claws, making them shriek with laughter. All of them were excited, giggling, a bit drunk on the wine they had drunk earlier, Dionysus' gift to man, but intoxicated even more by the wild spirit of the god and by the anticipation of what they were going to do.

"Oh, for the gods' sake! Would you two act your age!" Penelope said, trying not to laugh, "We're not children. We don't scare."

"You'll be scared enough when you see him! The body of a bull, the face of a man, and a cock as long as my arm! Coming right for you, my sweetie!"

Helene laughed and ducked away as Telemachus jumped at her, grabbing for her robe and pulling it so that one of her ripe young breasts was briefly exposed to the light of the moon. She shrieked and pulled her chiton back into place and held it tight, but tight enough so that her breast still showed clearly. Telemachus laughed, but his laughter couldn't conceal his real excitement.

Meneus spread his arms out beneath the stars and whirled about.

"Isn't this more like it?" he asked. "No parents, no chaperones, no priests or gloomy oracles!"

"And no theater and no games." Helene said. "Telemachus, I hope this is worth it. I hope we're not missing the third night of the festival just to come up here and be bitten by bugs."

"Don't worry about the bugs," Telemachus said. "You're more likely to be bitten by something else!"

He grabbed Helene's arm, reached down and pinched her firm ass through her robe, making her squeal with laughter.

"Shhh, you two!" Meneus said. He'd stopped at the very edge of the woods where the grass of the field ended and the carpet of pine needles began. "It is somewhere along here where they come. Nereon said that there were two oak trees like sentinels that guard their path through the woods. And then they come out here and dance in this field, right above the town."

"Meneus you can stop joking," Penelope said. She was the youngest of the group and therefore had to appear brave. "You've gotten us up here. You can stop the fairy tales."

"Fairy Tales nothing!" Meneus said. "Nereon doesn't lie. He said the procession comes out of the forest and runs along this hill top, and always on the third night of the Festival. He saw the torches himself three years ago during the last Dionysia."

"And he ran for his life!" Telemachus said, laughing.

"Of course he ran," Meneus said. "Otherwise the Bacchae get you, if not the God himself. That's no joke."

"And?" Helene asked suggestively

"And?" Telemachus mocked, "And you know what. The Bacchae fuck you to death and tear you to pieces if you don't satisfy their lust"

He used the word intentionally, hoping to see its effect on Penelope, but she was already too excited. It was her first time alone with boys in the darkness, and even in the moonlight it was obvious how aroused she was.

"Evoe! Dionysus! Evoe! Evoe! Diomethys!" she called in a whisper to the forest.

Telemachus laughed loudly. "That's it! Call him, Penelope! Let him take all of us! It's probably the only way I'm going to get laid tonight. Dionysus! Evoe!"

Helene elbowed him playfully. "He'd kill you in a second is he found you! He doesn't want men. Only women. Only women can be Bacchae!"

"Not true!" Telemachus snapped. "Transvestites too! Men can dress like women and dance with him too! Right Meneus?"

"I don't know. That's what I've heard, but I'm no priest." Meneus drank from the skin, holding it up and letting the wine pour into his mouth. It was unwatered, heady stuff. "But mostly his followers are women, and married women at that. Though they say that He will occasionally take a virgin and deflower her."

"Virgins, huh?" Telemachus said, "Then not even Penelope is safe! Better hurry, Meneus, if you want to be the first!"

"Hush! You!" Helene pushed him and Telemachus almost stumbled, he was laughing so hard.

Penelope blushed and Meneus felt his face grow hot as well. They all knew that Penelope was a virgin; there was no need to tease her for it. And, truth be told, Helene was little better. Though she acted experienced, she was hardly old enough for her to have known more than one lover's hurried caress in her young life. But that one time had apparently been enough to leave her eager for more.

"Tell us, Meneus," she said, trying to regain some dignity, "Will we hear them when they're coming? If they're coming? And what should we do if they do come?"

"Nereon said that they make a noise in the forest like hunters pursuing a wild boar, with a lot of crashing and trampling and loud cries, only they are the sounds of women's voices, not men's. The play cymbals and the aulos too, krotala and sistrum, and above all the banging and the women singing and shouting you can hear the god himself in the form of a bull, lowing and snorting. He said it was altogether a fearful sound."

"Does He always come as a bull?" Penelope asked.

"No. Sometimes as a man. A beautiful youth."

"A queer, you mean!" Telemachus said laughing. "He goes both ways, doesn't he, Meneus? Just like the Spartans!"

"And then there are the torches." Meneus went on, ignoring his friend. "Some of the Bacchae carry torches, and you can see them coming through the trees." He was aware that he had their attention now, and he lowered his voice for drama. "The women look wild, like animals, driven by their wild desires, and the god's power is like a wind that tosses them to and fro as they run and dance before their Lord. Some of them have blood in their mouth and on their hands, blood from the men they kill in their savage passion."

"Wooooo!" Telemachus wailed in a low and spooky voice, then laughed. "Sounds like just what I like in a woman: biting and scratching."

Helene slapped him playfully with a piece of ivy.

Aware that he'd lost his audience, Meneus scanned along the edge of the forest. Sure enough, there were two large oak trees standing like sentinels, a stone's throw from where the darkness of the forest began.

"There." he said, leading them over to the spot. "These must be the trees. Let's spread our blankets just outside the trees, in the shadows."

"Not us." Telemachus said. "We want some privacy. We'll go into the woods. That way we can let you know when the fun begins." He leaned over Penelope and made a face. "Don't be too scared!"

Meneus spread out their blanket in the soft grass, just within the shadow of the big oaks.

"Wait!" Telemachus said. "We should give him a libation to make sure he comes!"

He unslung the skin from his back and put it between his legs, then pulled the stopper and let some run onto the ground, holding the neck as if he were pissing.

"There you go! Evoe! Dionysus, master! Bromius! Come to us!"

Helene couldn't contain her laughter at his antics and Telemachus himself laughed as he raised the skin and drank, letting the wine seep down his chest. It was the first of the new wine, dark and still sweet with sugar from the grape.

He gestured for Helene to open her mouth and he held the skin above her head. But as she stood there with her mouth open Telemachus let the wine spill on her chest, wetting her chiton and making her scream with laughter. The sight of her young nipples beneath the wine-soaked cotton of her tunic made Meneus' cock begin to swell.

Helene swung at Telemachus who laughed and ran off towards the dark woods with her in pursuit. Meneus and Penelope watched until their friends' white tunics faded into the darkness beneath the trees and their laughter and playful shouts were lost in the quiet of the woods.

Penelope turned and sat down on the blanket, hugging her knees to her.

"Meneus? Do you believe it?" she asked. "The stories about the gods and all?"

He shrugged. He wasn't really that many more years older than she was and he was flattered that she should ask his opinion.

"The stories about Zeus and Hera?" he asked, sitting down. "I don't know. I'm sure many of them are just stories. But do the Gods come down and mix with us mortals? I don't know. I think so, but only by what others tell me."

"And the stories about Dionysus?"

Sitting therein the moonlight with her knees drawn up, her hair so carefully arrayed atop her head, held in place by ribbons and crowned by the wild ivy of the field, she looked so lovely and perfect that he felt his heart give a twinge in his chest. He felt a strong stirring of desire for her.

"I don't know." he said. "He's not like the other gods. He drives men mad, women too. What is the purpose of a god who does that? I think maybe he's just made up; an excuse people use to act crazy and let themselves do whatever they want. I think his followers must be deluded. They let themselves go nuts and say it is the god's work."

"Telemachus doesn't believe." she said.

He felt a sudden pang of jealousy. "Telemachus doesn't know everything."

He would have said more but words seemed suddenly out of place. He turned to look at her. From where they sat they could see the town far below them, lit by torches and oil lamps. The theater must have let out by now and the citizens were thronging the street for the crowning of the playwright and the dancing to follow. Still, the town seemed no more than a reflection of the wild river of stars that ran over their heads. Surely this was a sacred spot, somehow set apart.

There was a sweet wind blowing across the hilltop and it tossed Penelope's curls and the ivy leaves that crowned her head. It lifted the hem of her chiton, showing her smooth legs in the moonlight. There was something wild about this place, something exciting. This was where the wildwood began, where the reach of the town ended, and they felt as though they sat at the border of some great mystery.

"Wine?" he asked.

"No wine, Meneus," she said leaning against him. He felt the warm softness of her young breasts against his shoulder as she whispered in his ear, "I want you now."

He turned to her, surprised by her forwardness, and saw the look of excited expectation in her eyes, even through the moon shadows cast across her face by the leaves of the trees. She had been waiting for so long to be alone with him, and now she was tired of waiting.

He found her lips and he forgot the forest, forgot Dionysus as he sunk into her sweet, expectant kiss. She was so innocent she didn't even know what to do and she waited for him to show her, her lips pressed to his. Meneus dropped the wineskin and took her shoulders in his hands. He opened his mouth against hers and reached for her with his tongue, teaching her.

With a whimper of urgency Penelope fell back on the blanket and Meneus covered her body with his own, feeling her warmth. Now that she knew what to do with her mouth, she was all over him with all the eagerness of her youth and with a boldness that surprised both of them. He felt her tremble as his hands found her body beneath her chiton and took her breasts in his hands, small and perfect, her nipples already stiff with excitement.

"Penelope…" he sighed as she kissed him.

In her excitement she rolled him over on his back and he let her, amused at her audacity. He hadn't expected her to be such an eager lover, but perhaps there truly was some excitement in the air from the Dionysia. Perhaps even Penelope felt its effects.

He felt her hands hurriedly parting his cloak, searching for him, and he lie uncomplaining on his back beneath the stars, waiting to see what she would do. She grasped the hem of his tunic and threw it back, suddenly exposing his cock, erect and proud like a column of ivory in the silvery moonlight, his foreskin back, the head glistening. She gasped with excitement.

"Oh Meneus!" she said, taking his cock in her small hand. "It's magnificent!"

He laughed. "It's the first one you've ever seen." he said.

Penelope objected. "Not so. I've seen the boys in the gymnasium."

"But not erect."

"No," she said, "Not like this!" She slid down his body for a closer look.

"Let me kiss it, Meneus! May I kiss it? Oh, I must!"

He watched astonished as she lowered her face to his cock and planted a soft, wet kiss on it, then opened her mouth and took him inside. Never had a girl done this to him before, and he certainly hadn't expected it of little Penelope. It filled him with sudden hot lust for her, not just from the sensation but from the appearance of her subservience as she closed her eyes in bliss, holding him in her hot wet mouth, exploring him with her tongue. He wondered briefly where she had learned such a thing, but then as her pink lips slid up the length of his aching rod he stopped thinking of anything.

The entire world seemed to go silent and watch as Penelope slaved over his loins, sucking on him with her soft, virginal mouth.

There was a sharp, sudden sound from within the forest and Penelope froze. Meneus sat up in alarm, pulled her quickly off his cock and stared intently into the shadows.

But then they heard Helene's rich laugh come from the darkness and they both relaxed.

Meneus took Penelope's shoulders and pushed her down on the blanket. he stood up and stripped off his tunic, but before he could sink down on the blanket again Penelope had taken off her own and lie there on the blanket, as perfect as a pearl in the moonlight, waiting for her lover.

Helene had been waiting to get Telemachus alone since they'd snuck away from the town and met Meneus and Penelope outside the walls. She knew what the third night of the Dionysia meant, a night of sex and license, and she was eager to feel the embrace of this boy she was so intoxicated with. From the time they'd begun the climb she'd been in a state of high arousal, knowing what they would do when they got beyond the reach of the town, and now her need was almost unbearable.

No sooner had they reached the shadows of some than Helene began teasing Telemachus, rubbing against him and urging him on. Groping and grabbing each other they made their way into the darkness of the woods until they found a spot where the moonlight showed an old oak standing alone in a small clearing. Telemachus pulled Helene to him and pushed her back against the thick trunk. He held her pinned by her shoulders as he ducked his head and sucked the wine from her wet tunic, lingering over her breasts and sucking her nipples into his mouth.

Though not much older than Penelope, Helene was more developed with a full, womanly tits that drove him wild. It was her breasts that attracted him again, and he let go of her shoulders so that he could hold them both up to his mouth and squeeze them as he sucked and licked her nipples through the wine-soaked fabric, making her moan and twist with pleasure.

Helene felt a flood of lust upon her, and forgetting all inhibition reached boldly down his body for Telemachus' hard column of meat. The touch of it thrilled her and instinctively she began milking his cock like it was a cow's teat, anxious to have him inside her, making him growl as he feasted on her soft tits.

"Oh Telemachus!" she gasped, "I need you now! Fuck me now! Don't wait!"

She raised one long leg and wrapped it around his thighs, pulling him to her as her fingers fumbled at the clasp at his shoulder. She managed to release it at last, and the thin garment slid from his body, leaving him naked, his strong body dappled with shadows from the oak leaves above. To her eyes and her hands he was like a god, muscular and powerful, and she ached for him to enter her so she could feel his strength and desire.

Telemachus' fingers were clumsy with need and she helped him with her own chiton, freeing the clasps and stripping the garments off, revealing her in all her naked beauty. Telemachus stared. He was more experienced than Helene, but still most of that experience had been hurried and taken in secret, and he had rarely been given the opportunity to enjoy a woman's nakedness as he was now.

He ran his hand down her stomach and into the sparse, willowy hair over her mound, then hooked his fingers beneath her and entered her where she was most sensitive, making her cling to him and bite his shoulder to stifle her cry of hot need.

"Bend your knees," he hissed, "I want to take you just like this."

"Yes!" she gasped, putting her hands around his neck and staring into his eyes. "And then?"

"And then I'll bend you over and take you from behind, like a master takes his slave, fucking you like the hot bitch you are!"

His words inflamed her and she tilted her hips up at him as he struggled to fit the head of his cock between her legs. It was clumsy, awkward, but their desire was so intense that they managed, gasping and panting, and she finally felt the broad head of his prick pushing between her lips.

"Oh Telemachus I'm so hot for you!" she panted as she felt him enter her. "I want to be your whore, Telemachus. I want to be your slave for tonight. Make me do anything you wish, just fuck me, fuck me! Ahhhh!"

She groaned, her back arching as he slid into her, his fat cock forging a passage through her tight sheath, opening her up without mercy. She bit her lip and wailed in wild pleasure as he took her, shoving her tits forward into his open mouth where he began to suck and lick on them.

"Oh fuck me! Fuck me!" Helene's voice rose in a hot crescendo. In her short experience she had never felt anything like what she was feeling now. His prick was hard and brutal inside her, and his hot lust fired her own with each delicious, bruising thrust.

"On the ground!" he hissed urgently, pulling out of her, and at once Helene lay down on the soft bed of fir and oak leaves, not even bothering with the blanket.

She felt the soft earth still warm from the sun under her back as she spread her thighs for her lover, and Telemachus quickly got on his knees and entered her again, taking her breasts in his hands and smothering her cries with his mouth.

Helene gave herself over to his desire. His hard cock filled her; his fat balls slapped against her ass as he fucked her hard and deep, holding nothing back. She moaned hotly and wrapped her arms around his strong back, crushing her breasts against him.

And then she felt it: that hot, absolute pleasure she knew only from playing with herself alone in her own bed. It was now riding down upon her now with the force of Telemachus' hard fucking, the wet sluicing of his thick cock in and out of her, the way he drove her ass into the soft earth on every other stroke. She was going to come on his hard cock, and the thought made her wild with a delirium of lust.

Then Telemachus stopped, freezing on top of her. "Huh? What was that?"

"What? What? Don't stop! Not now!" Helene cried, her hips still moving against him, so close.

Telemachus scrambled off her and crouched between her legs looking off into the dark woods, all his senses alert.

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