Feast of Bacchus

The following is my story submission for the 2020 Halloween Story Contest, if you enjoy the story, please let me know in the comments, and please vote! Thank you!

I would like to thank CiaoSteve, for his editing, and helping me spin a better story.

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This was pure torture, absolute and total sweet agony, knowing that all he had to do was wait, and once dark fell he could make sure she was his. However, while the sun was still in the sky he had to be patient and allow her to drive him crazy, and she had completely taken advantage of that fact. From the moment this Halloween's Feast of Bacchus Masquerade had begun for him, she had been quick to find little ways of torment.

She had caught his attention nearly the moment he stepped into this year's party, and what was going to be a simple night of appear-entice-disappear, quickly became very interesting and enticing for him. She wasn't a total stranger to him, though as with most of the people at these events, he didn't know her name but he recognized her mask from previous year's gatherings. A purple velvet covering so dark it looked black but flashed color when the light caught it right, embellished with tiny silver studs creating a delicate twinkling vine curling from the corners of her eyes. The vine on the right side of her face curled up and grew over her right eye, while the silvery trail on the left draped down and over her cheek. She usually stayed to the fringes, sparkling in the shadows at past Feasts, so they had never come into contact. However tonight she was draped against a tall table with a challenge sparkling in her eyes. The rest of her outfit was a dark red with rich purple accents, but he was focused on her masked face. Deep ruby red highlighted her full lower lip and cupid's bow upper lip, setting them in stark contrast to her lightly tanned skin and pale blue eyes. There was something different about her now, she seemed more relaxed or confident in herself and it drew him like a moth to a flame. He wanted to make sure she noticed him, but he wanted to let her initiate the Dance.

The rules of the Feast of Bacchus were clear and simple, all attendees knew and accepted them. During the daylight hours the participants of the Feast were to mingle and enjoy the party as any other masquerade, in an anonymous celebration of the season and All Hallows Eve. However there was another level to the fall festivities. If there was mutual intimate interest between individuals, you could choose to initiate the Dance of Bacchus, then while the sun shone you could tease the one who had accepted your invitation, but neither could make any sexual contact. Depending on the individuals you could see subtle flirting or outright gestures. Once the sun dropped then the power shifted, and the tormented were free to exact their mutually pleasing revenge.

When he had arrived she was walking into the main room. Silently thanking her lucky star, she accepted a rocks glass with a small measure of a sweet liquor from a masked attendant making the rounds. Stepping over to a bar table near the wall, she sipped at her drink and took in the striking sight of her secret fascination, in her knee-jerk wallflower mode. His dark chocolate colored hair was tossed around in wavy curls, as if he had recently run his fingers through it, probably trying to keep it out of his eyes. Dressed in mostly black with just small hints of a dark blue, he made an imposing and tall figure standing there, his angled jaw set and determined below his simple black domino mask. He wore a close-fitting vest of supple black leather, buttoned over a loose black shirt which was left to drape over the hips of his fitted pants. A long dark blue sash was tied around his waist. Over all this he wore a thigh-length black jacket with the same dark blue flashing from it's lining, and tall black boots on his feet. His attire with his confidant movements and rich brown skin gave him a rakish Latino pirate look. All he needed was a short sword at his hip and a pirate hat.

Over the years at these exclusive Halloween get togethers, she had learned to read a number of his body language clues from a distance. She could see that he was restless tonight, which meant he might leave early, or someone could get lucky with his intense attention. His eyes were slowly taking in the entire gathering in the room as he scanned the small but moderate crowd, resting on her for a moment before passing on. He gave her the usual tiny thrill of seeing but not being seen, but just as she took another sip of her mead his gaze had snapped back to hers. That tiny thrill jumped to a heady rush. Having been caught appreciating his form she decided to go for what she had only admired from a distance for so long. The worst that could happen is that he would hold a hand out for hers, to kiss her knuckles in a gentle refusal. She tipped the last of her drink back, and gently set the glass on the table top.

Lifting a dark purple feather fan to move the air over her face, she gracefully wove her way between small groups of people and towards him from across the room, her hips swaying with the soft music in the background. His dark eyes were glued to her pale eyes as she made her first pass in the Dance of Bacchus. She paused just off to his left, their gaze still locked as she tilted her head in the opening step, preparing herself for the dismissal. However when he accepted with a small bow, she tried to hide her pleased shock behind her fan and answered with a fluid curtsy, more out of reflex than active thought. Then she decided to Dance her way and draw him into a chase. If he wasn't seriously interested in her, he wouldn't follow. So, she did the last thing he expected. She rose to her full height, which was still a few inches shy of his six foot frame, before turning and walking away. He stood there confused, simply admiring the view as her full bottom swayed back across the room and around the small groups of people. Just before crossing into the next room she looked back at him with a very mischievous grin below her mask, and with a wink she disappeared through the doorway. He was so entranced that he couldn't remember anything more about what she was wearing, than that it was a rich swirl of red and purple, it flowed against her legs like silk, and there were some ropes involved.

Throughout the early evening he tried to find her, to claim a turn on the dance floor and learn her name through small talk. However hard he tried, she managed to avoid being caught in the same small groups of conversation that he found himself in, although she did create many reasons to suddenly pass close to wherever he happened to be. The moment she came into his view she would lock her pale blue eyes with his, creating an intimate connection as she passed, sometimes close enough that her skirt would brush against him. Always with a soft smile curling her full lips, softly fanning herself and leaving behind a faint trail of a most erotic scent - some rich, dark musk that would hang in the air for only a few moments, swirling around his body just long enough for him to breathe her in deep and savor the mental images that sprang to his mind. He pictured twin shadows entwining on a pillow strewn floor, the smoky aroma of burning logs filling the room, as they fed each other with fall grapes. Then her scent would fade to a soft trail that followed her, but one he was sure he could pick out anywhere now that he had become so attuned to it.

Even now, as he stepped into the large entertaining hall he knew she was there by that faint but unique hint in the air. One of the many white-masked attendants drifting through the gathering glided up to him and presented a short and slim glass mug, full of a translucent dark red liquid. He accepted, inclined his head to the secret server then continued into the room, keeping to the edges and quickly scanning the crowd. Bringing the mug to his lips he casually sampled the offering. A rich, honey sweet mead flowed over his tongue, leaving a slight aftertaste of blueberries and pomegranate for him to enjoy. He took a larger sip, relishing the slight burn and warmth of the alcohol, as he noted with relief that it was not a truly packed room. He felt his pulse jump as he finally caught sight of his quarry and halted near a pillar towards the edge of the room. There he stood, drinking in the sight of her.

Tonight her dark hair was artfully arranged on her head, her thick locks trapped in a fashionable form with ruby colored ribbons woven through the curls. He preferred it the way she had worn it at the last year's Feast, loose and wild, freely sliding over her shoulders and falling down her back. Her hair just begging to have his fingers sunk into its thick dark mass. He could almost feel the silky strength of her auburn mane in his fist, and he could clearly imagine using its length to trap her head where he wanted it. Finally acknowledging to himself that he had been fantasizing about her for some time before this evening, and now with the Dance of Bacchus in motion, he had become even more curious to see and get to know the woman behind the mask.

He noted that a wine flute, with the same dark burgundy drink he sampled, had been handed to her as well. She sipped from it while she stood with her other hand at her waist holding the small feather fan, which was strapped to her wrist by a slim length of dark silver chain. She was standing at the edge of a small gathering of women who were talking. She was rather plain compared to the others, who were decked out with heavy jewels, lavish lace and yards of material, with fancy feathers flying off the sides of their masks. They thought themselves special, but she stood out to him even though she only wore simple jewels with her attire. They added a secret sparkle that winked from her earlobes and enticed a man to search for other hidden secrets.

Around her neck she had a fine silver chain with a crystal point amulet resting just below the delicate V at the base of her throat. The crystal's point directed his eye down to the low scoop-cut bodice top she had chosen for tonight, and the tops of her pale breasts forming a more tempting V that trailed out of view. For this year's feast she wore a rich ruby hued bodice, so dark it was nearly purple in the shadows, softly draping over her chest, cinched tighter under her breasts and around her athletic torso with delicate silver ropes in a Grecian style. A long skirt of the same material flowed over her hips and to her ankles, moving softly against her legs when she shifted her stance. Accenting her full hips was a belt made of purple and silver threaded rope that caressed her waist, tassels dropping to random heights around her legs. Her feet were tied into nearly flat-bottomed royal purple sandals with straps that traveled up slim ankles and disappeared under her skirt. There was a breeze from the row of open courtyard doors along the far wall, letting air move in the large room and play with clothing. A momentary glimpse of her laced calf could be had before it was again hidden by the playful wind.

He heard laughter from a group gathered near him and tried to pull his mind away from thoughts of sliding his fingertips over her smooth skin, and to focus on what was happening in the moment. She shifted her weight to her right leg, bent her left knee and a slit appeared in her dark skirt that raced up her leg, exposing her leg all the way from sandal clad foot, up her calf, to her knee where her sandals tied off, then further to her thigh. From his viewpoint he could almost catch the start of the curve of her buttocks. She lifted a hand to rub at the back of her neck, her fan now dangling loose from her wrist, and glanced over her shoulder towards where he stood. When their gaze met, he glimpsed a quick mischievous heat flare in the aqua depths of her eyes, and the corner of her tempting mouth curled up. She was enjoying the hunger building in him, feeling emboldened with the heady rush of his complete focus.

She turned her face back to the bejeweled women as one of them began talking in a louder voice, demanding the group's attention, which set his lady on the back side of the circle with her focus inward. His interest was caught by her hand as she slid it down her neck and further. Her fingertips grazed the side of her own breast close to her nipple, an obvious pebble pushing against the soft fabric covering her skin. Her hand rested for a moment on her waist before her fingers slowly spread over her hip then curled down, sliding through the slit in her skirt and under the fabric to leisurely caress her skin. He could not stop the quickening of his body as she lifted the edge of the skirt's parting, so from his vantage point he could see for an instant that she was not wearing anything underneath her costume before she let the fabric fall back in place. The group laughed at the end of the older woman's story, and then his temptress graciously excused herself and began moving across the room, but away from him again. His eyebrows drew together in frustration for a moment as she headed for the large open doors that led to the courtyard garden, glancing back once to make sure he was watching before stepping out of his view.

The low sun shone in her eyes as she stepped out into the courtyard, escaping the clutch of decorated women. She took a deep breath of pure air, filling her lungs. She glanced over her shoulder again, looking through the tall windows at the man she knew fate had gifted her. Every year she attended the Feasts she had noticed him, but he had never stayed for long. He would mingle, maybe dance with a couple ladies, then saunter out alone. He always stood at the edge of the room, with the small crowd but not in it. From the first moment she had felt a pull to him, but had never felt that she was on par with the type of women that he seemed to court at the gatherings, so she fought it and contented herself to hide as a wallflower.

This past year had been rough for her, but she survived, found a new fiery woman under the ashes, full of wild assurance, finally feeling whole and comfortable with who she was. So she had decided she would embrace this new woman with the boost of courage she always felt with the help of her mask at the Feast of Bacchus... and now HE had accepted her invitation to Dance. From the way his sharp and increasingly hungry gaze had been following her so far, she was starting to think her Dance plan might have worked a little too good, and for a moment she felt a thrill of nervous apprehension over the upcoming sunset's shift of control. Then she shook herself and turned to hurry down the curving steps, absently trailing a hand down the arm of the marble Bacchus in a small salute, as he held his chosen close in their frozen embrace.

Knowing she didn't have much time, she hurried over the courtyard towards the gate of a large living maze constructed on the property. She had found an old framed map in the house earlier that she had tried to memorize once she realized the link between it and this maze. From ground level she could see the outside edge wall was only about chest high, but each successive inner wall seemed to grow a little taller, rising to almost ten feet through most of the maze. It was created with hard angles cut into the greenery, geometric shapes placed together to form the walls and passages, but she knew from the map and her earlier vantage point of a second-floor window, that it had a smooth flowing center. In the very center looked to be a circular space that held some kind of small building. She wanted to know what caused those inner walls to sparkle in the afternoon sun. She also felt the center of the maze would make a great setting to face the consequences of tormenting her chosen. She knew to expect at least as good as she gave; but was now getting more nervous of the manner of torment he would choose to give her. At that thought she glanced over her shoulder and spotted him through the windows, moving across the hall and towards the doors she had used earlier. She turned back around and picked up her pace.

He had almost felt a physical tug pulling him after her when she moved out the doors and out of his sight. He had tried to fight it for a few moments but finally gave in and followed her. It was really what he wanted to do anyway, and with a few pointed stares he let the other lone men that had started to follow know that they should find other conquests. Once he passed the group of older women; and got clear of the perfume cloud they were creating, he caught her faint scent in the air. When he finally made it through the doors and to the courtyard it had almost faded, but then the breeze suddenly wrapped her fragrance around his body and he turned into the wind to find her. Just as he did the sun broke free of the low clouds directly in front of him, to shine across the gardens. Barely above the western horizon and kissing the trees, it hovered for a beautiful instant, and then began to sink beyond the horizon. Although the light hurt his eyes, for a moment he smiled wickedly. The fall sun was setting and she was headed for a large labyrinth, created with cleverly planted thick bushes and spreading out to cover over an acre of land. The torment would soon be returned to the tormentor as the follower became the hunter, he promised himself, and he would make sure she enjoyed it too.

Walking down the steps, he raised his glass mug to a statue of Bacchus standing at the foot of the stairs. As he got closer to the statue he drank his toast to the god of the evening's festivities. This marble statue portrayed him with a large goblet in one hand raised towards the labyrinth in the distance, grape vines draping down that raised arm and over his naked chest. A laughing, mostly naked and voluptuous woman was tucked under his other arm, his hand squeezing the stone flesh of her hip as he pulled her close. His conquest had one of her arms wrapped around his waist and the other reaching out to hover in the air as if waiting to hold something, while her face was turned up to gaze at the god with a wise smile. The hunter winked knowingly at the effigy as he shrugged out of his long jacket and draped it over the smooth arm of the stone woman, claiming the heart of the labyrinth. Then he turned his face to locate his chosen quarry, beginning his hunt as he caught sight of her heading towards the long shadows.

While she crossed the last few feet to the entrance of the living labyrinth, she worked a ribbon out of her elaborate hairstyle. She was still thinking about the way the day had gone so far, and knew she was going to have to pay her dues soon. The sun was setting behind the trees and she had been having too much fun with her miniature tortures. She knew her scent alone had to be playing havoc with his imagination; there were a couple times she had glanced back after walking right past him, catching him with his eyes closed and his chest expanded. As she finally reached the entrance she stepped up to a small table to the right side of the gateway. Placing her hair ribbon on the table top, she swallowed all but a good sip out of her wineglass then used it to hold the purple strip of fabric in place.

Stepping through the entrance of the maze she glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of him, heading towards her as he began his hunt, quickly striding away from the already triumphant and grinning Bacchus, whose lady now held her hunter's jacket. She felt that hot jolt inside, the one that happened to her whenever their eyes met, especially if he had that barely concealed, raw hungering gaze that could eat her up from across the room. She shook the feeling off, freeing herself of a momentary immobility and darted down the long hallway, recalling the correct start was the furthest passage on this first stretch.