The crowd of exquisite bodies, in varying states of dress and undress, made the ballroom look like a cocktail party from Dante’s Inferno.

The Bacchanal

Her white silk, Grecian gown set her off from the heavy red velvet décor of the room. She seemed to float like a cloud between the deep plush of the table cloths and curtains. Like a breath of fresh, icy air, ethereal and almost out of place. ‘He does enjoy his Bacchanals,’ she thought as she made her way to a far-off table in the shadows.

The room swirled with soft, golden light from the bronze Art Nouveau candelabras on the tables and the many, magnificent chandeliers that hung from the high ballroom ceiling. Chopin’s Nocturnes from the pianist created a kind of sombre, other-worldly, tension in the air. She felt as if the piano hammers were striking out the pain in her heart with every note.

The crowd of exquisite bodies, in varying states of dress and undress, made the ballroom look like a cocktail party from Dante’s Inferno. When she glanced at the bar, a statuesque brunette lifted a bottle of champagne and glasses above the heads of the thick crowd exposing her perfect, pearl drop breasts - and almost immediately no less than three tongues vied to lick their crimson nipples.

Listen Here:

Men in tails and absolutely nothing else except cock rings, fitted with strategically placed plumage, stood century around the room. At first, she didn’t know what to make of the plumage, until she saw one of them erect. It had a peacock effect and gave him an exotic air rather than an aggressive one.

On the sides of the room were long tables with decadent feasts of young nubile bodies covered in delicacies that could be eaten right off of the living platters of flesh. There was so much to take in she almost missed the living candelabras along the walls. At alternating intervals of about 20 feet, there were bronze goddesses either mounted to the walls, arms bound above their heads holding up huge tapers that dripped hot wax down their sylphlike bodies or freestanding Rubenesque figures were painted and posed like the miniature centrepieces on each table.

It was all a wondrous sight. She considered how long she could endure it as she watched him play host to everyone but her. Maybe he didn’t even know she was there. She couldn’t say hello, he had to find her on his own…if he found her at all.

‘What’s your pleasure?’ came a voice from behind. She turned to face the most beautiful, rippled torso she had ever seen. She had to subvert her instinct to lick as it dawned on her just before she made an ass of herself, that he was there to take her drink order. ‘Double Vodka and soda, please.’

She was on her third drink and getting bored with the propositions and endless small talk from the men who feigned interest but only stared at her still covered breasts when they spoke. She was far more interested in watching him mix and mingle and play the perfect host. She enjoyed how he waltzed with the wallflowers, but she was relieved when he deftly handed them off to any of the many men standing on the side lines. The pretence of elegance impressed her, even as she watched men penetrating women against the walls. But as the alcohol began to quiet her mind, the terrible, familiar sting of isolation found its foothold.


She was just about to stand up when she felt a liquor flavoured thumb part her lips. She knew it was him from the curve of his wrist and she gently bit down so he couldn’t get away. He smiled as he moved her to face him. He continued pulling her to her feet and then to the centre of the room. She panicked for a moment because she knew she couldn’t dance in her stilettos. A small stumble caused her to let slip his thumb from her mouth. She was just about to say, "…but he moved behind her and pulled her dress to the floor. It seemed to float down with the hush that fell over the entire ballroom.

He had unveiled her, like a painting, and she was standing completely naked in front of the entire room. She was still trying to get her bearings when he slipped a simple black leather collar around her neck. She could barely keep her balance. Had he just collared her in front of them all? She loved their eyes on her. Every nerve thrilled to the flash of lust in their eyes, she could let them devour her completely - as long as she never had to talk any of them.

She was on her haunches before she even felt his hand gently on her shoulder, her knees straining wide so they could see her glistening pleasure. Her eyes immediately went to floor. It would actually hurt her to be defiant to him now. There was nothing more beautiful in the room. Even the bronze goddesses lost their lustre compared to her porcelain white figure adorned with nothing but her black collar and black stilettos.

She expected the whip, the belt, the riding crop but she did not expect his hand gently raising her chin to face him. He was standing in front of her now, and he looked her deeply in the eye to steady her, to reassure her, to empower her. ‘Suck,’ was his simple command.

Her eyes widened, helplessly, but he wasn’t moved. She dropped her eyes and saw his belt buckle. It wasn’t one she could undue with her teeth. Her hands shook slightly as they opened the buckle and his trousers. She cautiously pulled them down his thighs revealing his supple manhood to her and to the room. She looked up at him again. This was not like him. He was no an exhibitionist, but the stern look in his eyes was unwavering.

She raised her torso slightly and placed her hands on the back of each of his thighs. She loved the marble like feel of his muscles. She could feel her mouth begin to water as she looked at him. She opened her mouth letting her tongue come slightly forward as she used to do when getting communion. As an act of submission, it was astonishing to behold and someone in the crowd gasped. Everyone held their breath as she wrapped her lips around the very tip of his cock and then slowly pulled him into her as she pulled herself up to her knees, never letting her eyes stray from his gaze.

She stopped when her lips were at his torso. She could feel him fully erect now in her mouth, as she caressed him almost imperceptibly with her tongue. And she held him there, looking down on her, in absolute stillness. If Michelangelo’s Pieta is the artistic pinnacle of human suffering in marble, then they were the pinnacle of human submission in living flesh. He was so beautiful to her. Giving him pleasure was such a gift, and she knew he exalted her by displaying his choice of her publicly. She wanted nothing more than for him to be proud to know her, and in that moment she began to convulse in subtle waves of a purely mentally induced orgasm.

As she began to pull back, he quickly pulled away and pushed her on to her hands and knees and rounded her like a matador. The crowd cheered, and the room suddenly sprung back to life, with renewed fervour. Now, they were alone in plain sight. Nobody was paying any attention them, everyone set on now to find their own release.

He leaned over and whispered to her, laughing to himself, ‘don’t ruin my floor, I just had it waxed,’ as he took her with great prowess from behind.

© Copyright Eurydice Rising
© Chris Courtney Photography