BACCHANALIA

"Κικλήσκω Διόνυσον ἐρίβρομον, εὐαστῆρα,
πρωτόγονον, διφυῆ, τρίγονον, Βακχεῖον ἄνακτα..."

-The Orphic Hymns

The first thing anypony noticed upon entering into the orgy was sound. Wonderful, alluring, hypnotic music, filling and permeating every corner of the house like a light breeze. Musicians stood in every corner of every room, watching the guests amble about in wonder beneath the dim yellow lamplight as they showed off their talents to the fullest. From one side of a given room, the haunting melodies of a pair of flutes floated languidly through the air like the incense smoke that drifted in and out of the rooms. From another, the strumming of a lyre could be heard, the musician plucking away as if some unseen urgency compelled her. In harmony with her, another played a pear-shaped oud, the slow, bassy chords contrasting magnificently against the higher, rapid-fire strumming of the lyre as the musician swayed in place. And everywhere, surrounding, encompassing, was the omnipresent drums, the low, steady throbbing in time with the hearts of the guests there, an eternal heartbeat in their ears.

All this was the perfect backdrop to the calculated seduction of the other senses that the house provided. All across the floors in every room, where one would normally find cold tile, were spread velvety rugs in rich creams, blues and reds, the fabric soft and sensual to the touch. All the better for what they would be used for later, after all. Food was piled on tables against the walls, the savoury and spicy smells mingling with that of the burning herbs and incense. Most were not eating much, taking only small portions and washing them down with wine, the rivulets of liquid dancing across their tongues leaving them squirming in delight. Whatever wines their host had got for the occasion were clearly superior, some having a strongly nutty flavour, others with subtly fruity notes, some tasting of flowers; but all, without a doubt, perfect.

As ponies lay down either on the numerous couches or on the floor as they waited, they couldn’t help but have their eyes drawn to the walls, the normally bare plaster hung with wide tapestries depicting scenes of drinking, dancing, and considerably less tame types of revelry. A few newcomers blushed at the lurid decorations, the embroidered image of two stallions and a mare sandwiched between them in the throes of ecstasy particularly catching the eyes of a few. Most, though, simply grinned wryly at the newcomers’ expense, knowing that whatever was shown on the wall hangings would pale in comparison to the delightful decadence to come.

The three front rooms of the house were quickly filling up with ponies, at least sixty or so there already, and more were steadily trotting in from the atrium. But there was no sign of the host yet, just musicians, servants who darted from room to room with jugs of wine, and the Maenad priestesses of Bacchus in their sheer violet robes whirling about like dervishes, their chants and uttered prayers almost drowned out by the chatter of the guests. Bits and pieces could be heard, though, the constant refrain of “Ave, O Domine vinorum! Ave Bacche!” whispered in a reverent undertone, candles flickering in their sconces as they danced and leaped past, their hooves hardly touching the floor. The proper offerings had already been made, of course, bunches of figs, grapes, honey and apples piled about a short stone altar in the atrium, before a marble relief depicting masked ponies wearing wreathes of ivy and surrounded by bees. Three jugs of wine stood around a large brazier on top of the altar, not to be touched, as they were for libations only.

Once about a hundred or so ponies had gathered in the house (not counting the ones still waiting in the atrium or the courtyard outside), the mood of anticipation began to get more eager, the newcomers whispering excitedly amongst each other as they imagined what lay ahead. The lamplight grew steadily dimmer, as the incense smoke in the rooms seemed to grow thicker, the thick haze like a fog rising above the sedges of a lonely fen. It wasn’t unpleasant, though; not in the least. In fact, the scent seemed to grow sweeter, spicier and even intoxicating, as the guests felt themselves calming down, a pleasant, warm euphoria spreading from head to hooves as their inhibitions started to slip away. Whatever was in that incense, (and the wine, for that matter) it certainly was having a good effect on them.

This was just a foretaste, though, as the guests who had thought to bring hookahs, pipes and waterpipes took them out, sharing with their neighbours as the servants brought out a massive box filled with various herbs. The guests rushed (as much as they could in their current state) to the box before retiring to their rugs, cushions and couches. The haze became even thicker as the ponies present lay on their backs, sending rings, puffs and curlicues of smoke from their mouths and watching with rapt fascination as they floated away.

Amongst them, lying between a dark brown stallion and a light yellow mare, was Petunia, unsurprisingly. Her eyes flickered as she stared up at the ceiling, floating on the waters of herb-induced lethargy, letting out little giggles as she watched the paintings on the ceiling shimmer and move before her. Petunia shakily raised her cup to her muzzle as she quenched her parched lips, her eyes almost rolling in delight at the oaky, slightly-sweet flavour as the wine flowed down her gullet. She set the cup down and took a long pull of her glass pipe, exhaling with a sigh of content as the room grew larger around her, her heart beating in her chest in time with the pounding drums as the warmth left by the smoke seemed to suffuse her very being. She closed her eyes, a myriad of colours dancing gracefully across the inside of her eyelids. Little sparks of purple burst into existence with every throb of the drums, spirals of red swam past in time with the flutes, while stars of green wheeled about rhythmically with every plucked string of the lyres.

The chanting of the priestesses was growing louder now, their gamboling and leaping speeding up as guests stepped- or in some cases, staggered- out of their way as they worked themselves into a more and more frenzied dance. If they were tiring at all, they didn't seem to feel it- but that was to be expected of servants of the Lord of revelry. The lights of the candles and lamps were dimmed to a comfortable level, the flames like little winking stars against an evening sky before the sun has truly set. The sound of little percussion instruments she couldn't recognise came to Petunia's ears, some kind of timbrels and small cymbals, she guessed. She blinked for a second, staring around in confusion, before giving up and closing them again. She didn't have to know what she was hearing to know she enjoyed it, after all.

Her eyes snapped open as the noise and chatter in the room faded to a low murmur, even the music going silent. Through the central door of the room stepped Prince Blueblood with the smuggest expression she’d ever seen as he surveyed the room. It was the satisfied smile of a stallion who had made something he’d longed for often finally come to fruition, and was seeing the results firsthoof.

He walked slowly but deliberately towards the middle of the room, breathing in the smoke with a slightly giddy grin. He stopped before a cast bronze statue at the base of a pillar, the Maenad priestesses gathering closely around him in a semicircle. The guests who were inclined to move turned their heads towards him, their curiosity impelling them to move shakily forward to get a closer look. Blueblood turned in almost a full circle, taking note of every pony in the room and in the rooms beyond, before spreading his forehooves wide in the orans position, and beginning the standard salutation for these things.

"I call upon loud-roaring and revelling Bacchus, primeval, double-natured, thrice-born, Bacchic lord, wild, ineffable, secretive, two-horned and two-shaped. Ivy-covered, bull-faced, warlike, howling, pure. Hearken to my voice, O blessed one, and with your fair-girdled nymphs breathe on me in a spirit of perfect agape." He paused for a moment, his eyes closed before breaking into a wide smile.

“Friends! Honoured Guests! I welcome you, in the name of revelry and divine hospitality, to the Bacchanalia! Tonight, our inhibitions, our barriers, our masks, shall all be banished away. No more shall we dissemble or cloak ourselves, for tonight, we all are naked beneath the sight of Lord Bacchus, our Liber Pater!” As he spoke, the Maenad priestesses cast aside their sheer robes to emphasise the point. The sound of the drums returned quietly, the sacred mares rising onto their hind legs as they linked forelegs, swaying and sliding against each other, as their hips moved tantalisingly in time with the beat. Their prayers grew from reverent whispers to fervent shouts and echoing chants in unison, the priestesses’ eyes closed as they slipped further into their ecstatic trance, repeating the same phrases over and over. “Chaire Nymfi, Chaire Bakche! Chaire Nymfi, Chaire Bakche! Chaire Nymfi, Chaire Bakche! Evaí! Evaí!”

Petunia began finding herself quickened as well, her lips working wordlessly as her body seemed to move of its own accord, rocking and undulating against those of her neighbours, warm fur against warm fur, hot breath on the back of her neck. The chants became louder as the other instruments joined in as well, the perfect accompaniment to the writhing mass of limbs that moved as with one mind in unison with the Maenads, many hearts seemingly throbbing as one. Petunia felt a blush spread across her muzzle as she found herself between the mare and stallion who had been previously lying on either side of her, their hips grinding against her sides. She could smell the arousal in the room, the spicy musk of the stallions and the more subdued scent of the mares hitting her nose like another dose of herb, her thoughts quickly being distracted by the intoxicating aromas. Sweat dripped from her forehead, the air growing hot, at least to her mind. She gasped as she felt lips on her neck, warm and slightly ticklish, squirming as she was broken out of the trance.

All around her, the rhythmic movements of the guests began to turn more and more sexual, the wordless swaying turning to moaning, gasping and writhing, their fur slick with sweat. Stallions everywhere were slipping out of their sheaths, their growing erections pressed against the closest ponies; mare, stallion, didn’t matter. Only pleasure ruled here, boundless, sensuous pleasure freeing them from all constraints of mind. The mares as well were freed from their inhibitions, their sopping marehoods aching to be touched. Petunia herself craned her neck over to see a pair of mares with their hooves wrapped tightly around each other, letting out little gasps as they rubbed their glistening pussies together, a little pool of juices forming between their thighs.

She was soon distracted, however, as the lips that had previously been on her neck began to move further south, and she found herself rolling onto her back. She looked up to see the brown stallion staring down at her with a lustful smile, drinking in every inch of her body with his eyes. She returned the smile with one of her own, eyes lidded as her gaze found his length. Just above her belly was about a foot of hot, twitching cock, pre dripping off the head as if it were begging for attention. Beneath it hung a pair of the most perfect balls she’d seen in a while, heavy and full of seed just waiting to be spilled on her... or in her, as the case might be.

Her nether lips winking at the very thought, she lurched forward and wrapped her forehooves around the stallion’s neck, pushing him down beneath her. They were so close now, his pulsating cock rubbing against her belly, leaving a trail of pre where it went. Her lips met his, first probing and gentle, before his tongue flicked from between his teeth, and it turned into a full, deep snog. His lips tasted of wine as well, pressing against hers firmly but not forcefully. She could feel every throb of his cock as it slid down her belly and between her thighs, carefully lining up with her pussy. She closed her eyes again, the anticipation almost unbearable.

Unable to wait for him to make the first move, she thrust her hips forward, enveloping the first few inches of his shaft inside her. Pleasure exploded inside her head, blue sparks flashing in her vision as if somepony was strobing a light behind her eyes. She heard him gasp as her walls squeezed around his thick cock. He pulled back a little before thrusting forward, clumsily but accurately. She could tell he was inexperienced, but certainly enjoying himself if the little pants he let out were any indication.

As she got into a steady rhythm, the stallion groaning happily beneath her, the sound of sex echoed all around, the room filled with the slapping of flesh against flesh. Every little sound, from the most delicate little moan to shouts of exquisite ecstasy, seemed amplified in the space, though that could just be the herb affecting her hearing.

The music had shifted now, too, a deep, bassy drumbeat beneath an exotic riff on an oud, rapid notes floating through the air to caress her ears. She squirmed, her walls clenching around the cock inside her again- she’d forgotten how stimulating music sounded when she’d been smoking at an orgy, the experience nearly as pleasurable as the sex. Nearly, she thought with a grin as she noticed the stallion squirming below her as well, his eyes squeezed shut as he panted in pleasure. Instinctively, she slowly raised her hips, his cock sliding out of her inch by inch, until just the head remained inside her. “P-please!” He groaned, thrusting upwards wildly in his attempt to hilt inside of her again. She smirked to herself- sweet Bacchus, it was so hot to watch him like this, practically begging her to keep going.

She dropped her hips back down, earning another hot spark of pleasure from her head to her hooves, and a string of garbled gibberish from the stallion. “Oh gah! F-fuck... mmmnhh...” Petunia leaned forward to kiss his neck, her tongue flicking against the slick fur beneath his chin as he tilted his head back. Without thinking, she inhaled, her eyes closing as she let out a moan. He smelled of sweat and arousal, the scent of heady, masculine musk like a jolt right to her nethers. “Nggh... harder!” He moaned, his eyes open, dilated with lust and staring up at her with a hint of desperation. She eagerly complied, her hips moving faster now, a shudder of delight running through her body every time her hips rocked against his. “Oh gods, Oh gods,” he muttered, wrapping his forehooves around her middle as if afraid she’d leave otherwise.

He was close now, she could tell, every thrust and strangled moan bringing him closer to the edge. She wasn’t quite there herself yet, but she certainly wasn’t going to make sure this stallion wait that long- she wanted him to come, and soon. With as much vigour as she could muster, Petunia worked his cock as fast as possible, her walls squeezing and contracting around his pulsating cock as she slid up and down his shaft with ease. “Come on... c-come for me,” she whispered, her head foggy as she fiercely pressed her lips against his, the kiss sloppy but eager.

He came with a shout, rocking against her as his cum spurted out, so warm and deliciously wet inside her. They were both panting hard now, their movements slowing down to a gentle swaying until they ceased completely. Slowly, she climbed off of the stallion, his slick cock sliding out of her quickly enough. She felt a little pang of disappointment at the sudden loss of a throbbing shaft inside her, having not yet came herself, but knew she needed a little time to recuperate.

They lay side by side now, staring up at the ceiling with equally giddy grins, little drops of pearly cum spilling from inside her onto the carpet. There was no need to worry, though- the night was still young. And there was more than enough pleasures for all, just awaiting them.

After nearly two hours of semi-constant shagging, Petunia staggered her way across the floor, avoiding the writhing bodies here and there carefully. Her head was foggy, the room was swimming, and every part of her ached so good.

She’d been busy tonight; after the first stallion, she’d quickly been approached by a couple of twin mares, an older, grey stallion who teamed up with the first one to spitroast her, and a handful of nameless others she probably wouldn’t be able to recognise again until her head cleared. Her surroundings were starting to spin and distort around her, as if seen through an out-of-focus pair of spectacles, so she figured it was about time to get something to drink. She stepped over a pair she could’ve sworn was the Philharmonica siblings if she wasn’t mildly hallucinating, just catching a muffled moan of “Nnngh, m-make me pregnant, little brother!” as she walked past.

Petunia shook her head as she finally made her way over to the drink table, pouring herself a cupful of ice water and gulping it down as if she’d been stuck in a desert. It was too hot in here, she thought, as she looked around to survey her surroundings. Granted, about a hundred ponies packed tightly together in one space tended to do that, she noted as she leaned against the wall with a sigh.

From what she could tell, the orgy seemed to be picking up pace, the constant refrain of pounding drumbeats emphasising the quick, staccato rhythm of ponies fucking each other’s brains out like there was no tomorrow. The priestesses were the only ones who were not partaking, still in their sacred trance as they shouted out their ecstatic cries of of "Evai!" The incense smoke was thicker now, hanging over the whole proceedings like a curtain of grey haze.

She peered into the fog, trying to make out the shapes of certain ponies in the room as her vision began to clear. There were the Philharmonicas, same as before- so they were actually there, she thought. Off to the right, she could spot the stallion she’d been with first, his mouth currently on another’s cock, she noted with a blush. She couldn't see much else clearly, though, not that she was surprised.

Petunia sat there for Celestia knows how long, not caring much to move, either. Her eyes closed as she savoured the pleasant melodies all around, her breath eventually slowing down to its normal rate as she cooled down, her thirst long since parched by a few more cups of water. She wanted to reach for another pipeful of herb, but she wanted to be at least somewhat sober enough to make her way back home later, since she had work to do in the morning. So she refrained, though she deliberately inhaled a good whiff of the incense smoke instead.

As she was about to get up and rejoin the festivities, she was broken out of her state of calm by a loud cry that didn't sound like pleasure. Her eyes blinked open as she heard the thud of something heavy hitting the floor nearby, and the sound of glass shattering. She turned her head in alarm to see what was going on.

To her right, everything was same as usual; just ponies fucking like rabbits. She almost chuckled to herself- nothing to worry about, probably. Just somepony knocking over a glass or something. But then she noticed something out of the corner of her eye; several ponies appeared to be leaving. She glanced that way, not sure what was going on. To her left was nopony in particular she recognised, just an unconscious white pony being dragged out of the atrium by a couple of burly stallions-

Wait, what?!

Petunia lurched forward, not sure if what she was seeing as real or not. The world was still warped and distorted around her, the room flickering across her vision like a series of photos in slow motion. Her stomach churned, a sudden panic bubbling in her chest. No, she thought, I will not let myself get panicked now. You've got to calm yourself, Petunia.

Slowly, hesitantly, she moved closer, picking up little details as she approached, walking towards the atrium. There was spots of blood on the floor, or at least what she thought was blood, the outlines sharp as a pencil sketch against the floor. An overturned cup lay cracked nearby, spilt wine pooling beneath it, the puddle of dark burgundy obvious against a cream-coloured rug. She gingerly picked it up, turning it over in her hooves. The arms of House Platinum were engraved on the outside of the bowl, the words ‘To Blueblood, from Father’ below them in faded script. She gaped, the gears in her head not turning as she kept turning the cup over in her hands.

Then the pieces fell into place. She let the cup fall from her hooves, rolling away across the carpet. Oh shit, oh shit, that was Blueblood that had just been dragged away! The realisation hit her like a brick to the stomach, and she glanced around wildly, looking for anypony to intervene. But nopony else seemed to have noticed, all too drug or wine-addled and absorbed in their activities to have even glanced this way.

At that moment, Petunia knew what she had to do. She had to get out of here, quick, before anything worse could happen. She had to warn the others!

With that in mind, she made her way back to the edge of the maze of bodies, spotting an exhausted Octavia and Octavian curled up next to each other. Normally, she wouldn’t dare to bother them, but time is of the essence, “You two, get up!” she hissed, prodding them with a hoof.

Octavia rolled onto her side, mumbling tiredly, “Dammit mother, go away...”

Petunia rolled her eyes, poking the other mare hard in the stomach. “Dammit Octavia, it’s Petunia. Blueblood’s been kidnapped!”

That got her up, Octavia practically jumping to her hooves, a little unsteady. “Octavian, get up, we’ve got to go!” she whispered with more than a little panic in her voice, pulling her brother to her feet.

He blinked stupidly for a few seconds, before Petunia’s words finally managed to sink in. “By the Athanatoi, what in Tartarus is going on?” he asked, doing his best to sober up.

“No time!” Petunia snapped, shaking her head. “You two get back to your mother’s house, and fast. I’m going to Fleur and Fancy’s to tell them what happened. You understand?”

"Wait, Petunia, are you telling me somepony kidnapped Prince Blueblood in the middle of a fucking orgy, and only you noticed?"

"Yes!" She said impatiently, stamping a hoof. "The guards seemed to have disappeared, too, and there was blood in the atrium. We can't afford to stand here and think about it- we've got to get a move on, before something really bad happens, if it hasn't already."

The two of them nodded, before the three of them headed into the atrium. As they reached the door, Petunia paused, glancing over at the two of them. "And you two? Be careful. I don't know if they might go after you next, since you're both not exactly sober." Brother and sister nodded solemnly, and stepped out into the open air, the sounds of running hoofsteps echoing across the empty streets of Canterlot.

Author's Note

For those who are curious, the music I had in mind when writing for these scenes are as follows: