The Cost of Blood (Father and Belle)

[Father Figure]

What did it mean to be a Spartan? It meant rigorous training from the moment of birth. It meant being tested constantly, raised and placed within the agoge to be beaten mercilessly and flogged until a man felt no pain. It meant being sent outside at twelve to fend for yourself in nothing but your cloak, expected to survive the harsh weather and endure where no other Greek was capable. It meant a lifelong service to your people, to the military, to the state. It was honorable, it was brutal, and it was a Spartan warriors solemn commitment to this above all else. To question it invited ridicule. To fail in it invited death.

Eurotas had not failed, invited no ridicule, and had not died. As a young boy he had proven himself so fervently that he had become a member of the Crypteia, the secret police of Spartan society. At age twenty-five he had distinguished himself as a pillar on the battlefield, a true son of Sparta, and a military genius. At age thirty he left the regimented barracks of the Spartan military to be with his wife, who gave birth to his beautiful daughter. At age thirty-seven he was considered one of the premier generals of the Spartan militias, unequaled in his prowess, unstoppable on the battlefield. Finally at age forty-eight his beautiful wife, Arene, passed away in childbirth to what would have been his male heir.

There would be no boychild to pass his armor to. No young man to raise up his Father's shield. His line had ended.

Yet he showed no grief. He showed no sign of weakness. It was merely the way the world was, merely the whisper of the Oracle that had set this path to be. He knew that his daughter would do her own duty to Sparta, would provide a child to a warrior, and that child would carry his own Father's shield into battle. It might be enough, might be enough should he ever see that day, to bring a smile to an old man's face. A face which now remained stern and resolute as he slowly soaked in his private bathhouse, his body aching from the long day of training. He had reached an age where he had begun to doubt that he would find the beautiful death he so often lusted for in his youth, no enemy ever besting him. Wisdom and experience far exceeded the foolhardiness of the common soldier.

He was growing old. It was a fact not lost on him. His hands came to brush water across his features, smoothing back into his long hair, not knowing another had entered to speak with him. Not suspecting what the day would bring.

 

[Belle Dujour]

What did it mean to be a Spartan? It meant rigorous training from the moment of birth. It meant being tested constantly, raised and placed within the agoge to be beaten mercilessly and flogged until a man felt no pain. It meant being sent outside at twelve to fend for yourself in nothing but your cloak, expected to survive the harsh weather and endure where no other Greek was capable. It meant a lifelong service to your people, to the military, to the state. It was honorable, it was brutal, and it was a Spartan warriors solemn commitment to this above all else. To question it invited ridicule. To fail in it invited death.

Eurotas had not failed, invited no ridicule, and had not died. As a young boy he had proven himself so fervently that he had become a member of the Crypteia, the secret police of Spartan society. At age twenty-five he had distinguished himself as a pillar on the battlefield, a true son of Sparta, and a military genius. At age thirty he left the regimented barracks of the Spartan military to be with his wife, who gave birth to his beautiful daughter. At age thirty-seven he was considered one of the premier generals of the Spartan militias, unequaled in his prowess, unstoppable on the battlefield. Finally at age forty-eight his beautiful wife, Arene, passed away in childbirth to what would have been his male heir.

There would be no boychild to pass his armor to. No young man to raise up his Father's shield. His line had ended.

Yet he showed no grief. He showed no sign of weakness. It was merely the way the world was, merely the whisper of the Oracle that had set this path to be. He knew that his daughter would do her own duty to Sparta, would provide a child to a warrior, and that child would carry his own Father's shield into battle. It might be enough, might be enough should he ever see that day, to bring a smile to an old man's face. A face which now remained stern and resolute as he slowly soaked in his private bathhouse, his body aching from the long day of training. He had reached an age where he had begun to doubt that he would find the beautiful death he so often lusted for in his youth, no enemy ever besting him. Wisdom and experience far exceeded the foolhardiness of the common soldier.

He was growing old. It was a fact not lost on him. His hands came to brush water across his features, smoothing back into his long hair, not knowing another had entered to speak with him. Not suspecting what the day would bring.

From the moment she could understand words and knew their meaning,
Aelia understood what it meant to be a Spartan woman. Born to the line of a brave warrior, she was taught her blood carried with it the fire that fueled the strength of Spartans. The sons from her womb would be warriors, generals, and perhaps Princes who would attain their glory through the sweat of their brow and the blood of their fallen enemies that would stain the mud red beneath their feet. Spartan women were not like the Grecian women who cowered behind their father's hand, or wept at the mere dropping of the milk bucket. Spartan men held iron in their hands, Spartan women held iron in their hearts.

And Aelia was no exception. In fact she had more iron in her than most Spartan women. Not because she carried shield or lifted her sword but because it was she alone responsible for maintaining the next generation's honor and duty for her father's line. Her mother and her would be brother died on a bed of blood, and there was no other in their line to bring honor and glory to their house. To Sparta. So from the very beginning of when she reached maturity, Aelia knew that it was not by the strength of her blade but by the prosperity of her womb that would bring one last note of fame to her family line. And any who doubted the young woman's ability to do so need only look at her. Aelia had grown into a beautiful young woman with strong, striking features, with rich dark eyes and long dark hair that curled wildly as it fell down to her elbows. Her body was strong with long limbs and wide hips, and the girl was keen in her mental wit.

Yet for all her beauty and every reason in the world to marry, Aelia had now seen eighteen winters, and there had been no marriage made for her. Oh, there had been many suitors, but for one reason or another her father had always asked him to wait til she was older. Now at eighteen there was little cause or reason to keep her at home...no matter how much Aelia might agree with the sentiment. Aelia had known her father only barely before her mother died. He had been off fighting or training, and was keen to let their mother raise her. But after her death, Aelia was all her father had - and she had to admit, she doted on him. From long hours into the night reading him poetry, or taking care to always ensure he had his favorite wine at the end of the week, it was the little things that Aelia could do that she knew meant the most to him. And now as that way of life was coming to its natural end, Aelia couldn't help but feel she would miss him...and wondered who would look after him now?

A wealthy warrior by the name of Damianos had been actively seeking her hand for some time now, and had heard that she had come of age. Aelia received his letter this morning, claiming how he intended to ride to their estate in a few days' time to formally pay her suit. She knew her father would want to know as soon as possible. Learning that he was in the private bath, she left the letter on the desk and turned to walk into the secluded area. The water here was warmed by a natural hot spring beneath the ground, and so when she opened the door she was greeted by a rush of hot steam. Aelia smirked to herself and quietly walked up to where her father sat with his back to her. A mischievous smile touched the corners of her rosey lips as she reached her bare arms forward and wrapped them around his shoulders in a way only she did.

"If you spend too much time in here, father, your skin will fall off like a boiled chicken's," she teased as she leaned forward and rested her chin against his shoulder.

 

[Father Figure]

The touch was not an unwelcome one no matter the outward mien of the man in question. He turned his head towards it just slightly, not giving air to an expression of his joy at her visiting but nonetheless it was shown in that one brief physical activity of kissing her cheek. A small brush of the lips that confirmed his love. It was comforting to have his daughter around in these long nights though he knew such time might very well be coming to an end for them both. It was true that even after she had gone he would have the companionship of the helot peasants who had served his family for generations, yet their service did not engender the bright spark of compassion that this one woman did in his life. The only other who had ever done so was her Mother and soon, like his wife, she would leave his home forever. At times, times that he never would have spoken of to the young girl, he was jealous of the man who would take his daughter from his tutelage. Life however always took.

One way or another it was always the same.

His shoulders tightened as his young girl's arms wrapped around them, the heavy muscles flexing not to show off his prowess but in mere response to her embrace. It emphasized the stark physique, the arcs of his perfectly trained chest as he stretched back just slightly in the warm waters. All was done in a way that emphasized everything about the warrior's physique and none of it done to illicit admiration. One of his strong hands came up to take her in it's grasp, not touching her hand but taking her wrist and clamping the strong fingers upon it in a way that could only be called possessive. He had never held back with her, never showed her mercy even if he showed her kindness. It was not the way of their people and he would not spare her the hardships of the flesh.

His voice was deep, resonant, a strength that came from the core as he replied to her. "If it does so then perhaps I will be born anew, yes daughter? The skin of youth beneath the old that falls off of me?" Silly games, silly words, but as he turned his head he could tell his daughter had something in mind already to converse over. It was not rare for her to come into bathhouse while he was there, he had always welcomed her so. He gave her wrist a small tap as he straightened to stand in the waters, moving to turn to stare into her eyes. Ah, there it was, that was what had given him an understanding of her need to speak with him. The eyes giving away a potential move in the war that was life.

"You come to speak with me. Is there news?" There was no worry to his voice, nor curiosity. He said it with the same matter of fact mannerism he would have asked had he wished to know the weather or of the death of a soldier. What was, was.

 

[Belle Dujour]

The touch was not an unwelcome one no matter the outward mien of the man in question. He turned his head towards it just slightly, not giving air to an expression of his joy at her visiting but nonetheless it was shown in that one brief physical activity of kissing her cheek. A small brush of the lips that confirmed his love. It was comforting to have his daughter around in these long nights though he knew such time might very well be coming to an end for them both. It was true that even after she had gone he would have the companionship of the helot peasants who had served his family for generations, yet their service did not engender the bright spark of compassion that this one woman did in his life. The only other who had ever done so was her Mother and soon, like his wife, she would leave his home forever. At times, times that he never would have spoken of to the young girl, he was jealous of the man who would take his daughter from his tutelage. Life however always took.

One way or another it was always the same.

His shoulders tightened as his young girl's arms wrapped around them, the heavy muscles flexing not to show off his prowess but in mere response to her embrace. It emphasized the stark physique, the arcs of his perfectly trained chest as he stretched back just slightly in the warm waters. All was done in a way that emphasized everything about the warrior's physique and none of it done to illicit admiration. One of his strong hands came up to take her in it's grasp, not touching her hand but taking her wrist and clamping the strong fingers upon it in a way that could only be called possessive. He had never held back with her, never showed her mercy even if he showed her kindness. It was not the way of their people and he would not spare her the hardships of the flesh.

His voice was deep, resonant, a strength that came from the core as he replied to her. "If it does so then perhaps I will be born anew, yes daughter? The skin of youth beneath the old that falls off of me?" Silly games, silly words, but as he turned his head he could tell his daughter had something in mind already to converse over. It was not rare for her to come into bathhouse while he was there, he had always welcomed her so. He gave her wrist a small tap as he straightened to stand in the waters, moving to turn to stare into her eyes. Ah, there it was, that was what had given him an understanding of her need to speak with him. The eyes giving away a potential move in the war that was life.

"You come to speak with me. Is there news?" There was no worry to his voice, nor curiosity. He said it with the same matter of fact mannerism he would have asked had he wished to know the weather or of the death of a soldier. What was, was.

Aelia treasured moments like these. Sometimes it seemed the whole world was shifting too fast - like a run away chariot whose wheels kept spinning around and around... So moments like these, where the two of them could simply be together, without any upset, without any anxiety, were as rare and precious to her as jewels. A warm grin spread across her cheek as he kissed her cheek and his body relaxed against her touch, as though he were Atlas himself with the world on his shoulders and she lightened his load if only for a little while. And perhaps it was odd how his firm touch on her wrist delighted her, Aelia found the tightness of this touch soothed her, made her feel secured, and very much treasured.

As he stood in the water she very carefully kept her eyes only on his. Such a thing was the respectful thing to do. She had no shame in either of their nakedness. Shame was a wasted emotion to a Spartan - wasted and utterly disgraceful. Shame implied regret, and a Spartan should always possess the wit and strength to never regret. Though if Aelia could be said to have one...it was that there was only so much time she had left in this home she had come to love for so long.

"What use is there for youthful skin?" Aelia began with a warm curl of her lips, "When it holds in it none of the wisdom that comes with age? And beside the point, I refuse to believe my father is old. He could give even the whelps of Sparta a good beating should they need it!" The grin on her face remained for a moment and then she blinked and knew the time for teasing was over. With a deep sigh she extended him the letter. "Damianos, son of Crytos, has learned of my eighteenth name-day last month...and announces his arrival in three days' time to formally proclaim and begin his suit for my hand," she explained. "With your permission of course." Aelia gave very little inflection to her voice. With it she showed no liking or disliking...rather the much colder indifference she had towards the whole affair.

 

[Father Figure]

Damianos, Son of Crytos. He was a good soldier, capable, though not necessarily one that had distinguished himself in the eyes of Eurotas. Yet what more could he ask for, for his daughter, who had remained strangely unwilling to leave his house and marry? He could not ask for much more than a good man, a good father, a decent life. It would not be the life that he had provided, yet he would be a foolish man to imagine that his daughter would find and marry someone of his caliber. Ego did play a part in this one fact, that he considered himself unequaled by the men of their society and that he would hope that his daughter would find a suitor that at least was comparable. He frowned. It was not a pleasant expression. His hand a made a motion to the water, one he had made countless times before, a motion which clearly stated. Join me.

Yes he was nude, but just as his daughter felt there was no shame in that fact. He had been there her entire life, had trained her in not just the arts of leadership but in the arts of war. When soldiers were wrestling on the ground there was no worry of embarrassment. Whomever her husband would be, if it would be this Damianos, he knew his daughter would give him unexpected surprises beyond merely being a capable mother. He mused over her words as he stepped back further into the water to allow her room to enter, his eyes never leaving her own face even as he frowned and there was something definitely within his features. Something in that frown that hinted at a deeper emotion as the brows furrowed. Disapproval. Why would he disapprove? The man in question was not a wastrel even if was not a perfection.

That very well might be it. Perhaps her Father wanted nothing less than perfection for her. It was a touching thought even if it was one he had not aired as of yet. He did not take the letter she offered him and that was telling in and of itself. No, he had asked her to join him in the water which meant he intended for this conversation to continue. Which meant he had not arrived at a decision and very well might be considering a decision that was not in the affirmative. Cool eyes watched her as he spoke, giving voice to his thoughts in the inflection of them...if not necessarily the words themselves. The tone held a measure of distaste, dislike of the option presented to him. The real question was would he have disliked it no matter which suitor it was?

"Tell me, Aelia, is this the Spartan you would wish to be Father to your children?"

 

[Belle Dujour]

Aelia watched her father motion her to the water, but she wasn't anxious to get drenched just yet - she'd only just dressed for the day and wasn't keen to get undressed again so soon. So instead she bunched her dress up around the middle of her olive toned thigh and took a slow, cautious step into the hot water. The bath water came up to just above her knee, and she settled herself down on the edge of the pool so that her legs could freely sit in the water while the rest of her remained dry. She listened to his question and felt its power weighing upon her heart. What did she want? 'Want' was never something she believed she owed to herself. Not because she was especially cruel to herself, but because the 'want' was always less than the 'need'.

Aelia needed to have a husband. She needed to have a future father of future Spartan children to bring glory to the two families that created them. Aelia chewed on the inside of her cheek as her eyes flickered down to her reflection in the pool as though it were clear enough to be a mirror into her own heart. Or a sacred well that would show her the future. Taking in a long, slow breath she decided to share her thoughts instead of internalizing them. There was no sense in hiding them from her father, she'd learned. No matter the situation he seemed to be able to see every bit of her deepest thoughts and every ounce of emotion coming from inside her chest. Lying as a child had been a foolish errand, so why bother continuing a foolish practice when she was a woman?

"Hm," Aelia pondered as her toes began wiggling beneath the warm water - loving the heated sensation that sparked shivers up her legs. "I have heard his prowess is growing. His father owns several farms that bring in gold - farms we would one day profit from. He's got no glory to his shield, no, but he is young yet. I've not heard he is cruel. I've not heard he is kind. I've not heard anything," she noted. After a moment she smirked softly to herself and tilted her head to the side, stray curls falling down her shoulders from its knot on the back of her head. "I suppose that may be a more damning bit of evidence though! He is too tall for a modest praise, too short for a great praise, too dark for a fair praise, and too young for a renowned praise. So there is little of note to note aside from the note that he could be rich, he could be kind, and therefore I could be his wife."

 

[Father Figure]

"Could." His voice said drily, a mildness to it which represented something far worse than disapproval. It was dismissal. It was the voice he used when faced with news he did not like, when a soldier failed his assignment, when a guard fell asleep in the night, when a slave gave nothing but the most lackluster service. Dry, cool, complete dismissiveness which signaled that the answer might already lay inside of him. That in fact he might very well be angry. That might be the tip of this particular mountain, anger that something more suitable had not approached his young daughter. Fury that someone more worthy had not given of their time and effort to provide for the only woman he loved in this world. It rankled him something mightily and he moved through the water.

He made no mention of the fact that she had not joined him. Obedience he expected from his men, not from his daughter. She was a Spartan woman, born and bred, and she would have a mind of her own if there was any amongst them who could. She would do as she wished as long as it was not disrespect him. Yet while she had not shown disrespect, had others shown it in not offering a hand in marriage to one of the most elite women that their society had to offer. His eyes moved to take her in as she sat there, lightly moving her feet in the water, admiring her limbs and strength. Admiring the curves of her form, the arch of her throat, the visage clearly that of a woman and not a girl child.

So he moved close, his hand coming to touch the revealed thigh and he took it in his grasp. Once more the fingers clamped down, not in cruelty but in surety - like the grip of a warrior's fingers upon the spear he wielded in the phalanx. The hand was coarse, the fingers iron beneath the skin, and he looked upon her as he spoke. "This man is unworthy of you, Aelia. Unworthy and unknown. You deserve far better, but I," he paused, not saying feared. That word was near foreign to him at this point. Instead he chose something else. "I cast a long shadow, my daughter. Do you think that they fail to approach you because I am your father?"

His eyes never left hers as his free hand came to touch across her abdomen, the most gentlest of touches other than his kiss upon her cheek. Her Father stood their nude in the waters, the steam rising around him, and his fingers curled over her stomach to cup it. "This womb, this place of life. This deserves more than the unknown soldier, the novice. His farms could yield a king's ransom and this is not for purchase. You are a woman of Sparta and you are my daughter. You are not for barter. Only those whose deeds are worthy should have you for their wife and mother of their children." His voice grew insistent towards the end, the eyes narrowing as he emphasized his belief in those words.

 

[Belle Dujour]

His sudden repeating of the word made even the breath stop in her throat. That tone of his was as cold and hard as the iron sword he fought with. Her lips parted a moment as she hesitated, letting him have his moment of...whatever that emotion was. Aelia never feared her father the way some less fortunate Spartan children did. For as fierce and protective and tight his grip sometimes was, Aelia had always understood her father - had studied the ways his face shifted, his voice inflected, the glint in his eyes...she knew when he was truly upset with her and when he was acting out of some deep paternal instinct. And right then she would sense he was...upset. But about what she wasn't entirely sure.

But even so, as he approached her in the water she didn't flinch or move away from him. Instead she...almost felt as though there was some sort of draw that brought them together than pushed him apart. He was so close now, she could feel his wet hips pressing against the insides of her thigh...and yet she felt no need to recoil. Standing there in the hot water, she suddenly realized that this tug reminded her of the warm waves being drawn towards the shore. There had always been a...connection between them. A togetherness that came solely from the fact that by the Fates' degree, they were each other's entire world. But this...right now...with his hand pressed firmly on her thigh - his fingers no doubt leaving warm impressions on her smooth, olive skin - the heat that melted from his skin into hers, and the vehemence of his eyes...

It was warm. It was so very warm. But was it because of the water? Surely...

His hand on her stomach made her lower back instinctively arch forward so that her lower abdomen pressed against his palm. It was as though she was a doll and he pulling her strings to make her move, to make her react. She hadn't even realized she was holding in a rich, deep breath until it slowly escaped from her lips in a heated sigh. For several moment she sat in silence - the moisture from his skin and the heat from the air around them saturating every instinct and every thought.

Oh gods! He'd spoken to her, hadn't he? Aelia scrambled to remember what he said. There was a pained look on his face, as though something he said had troubled him and it compelled her to act. Reaching a hand up she pressed her hand against his cheek, her smooth fingers brushing against his warm skin. "No," she urged, "You must not think you have in any way dampened my chance at a future - or taken away from any bit of my happiness. These years I have spent with you...you know the truest depths of my soul. You are my perfect companion. The soul that resonates with mine. You make me happy. Gods damn anything else."

 

[Father Figure]

The vehemence of her response surprised even him and he took a moment to gaze down at his young daughter, his eyes speculative and considering. He was a man trained to read an opponent on the battlefield and to see into their very soul. He was capable of knowing an enemies movements with but the merest shift in their weight, their feet turning, the motions of their chest as they readied themselves. He paused in that moment to watch Aelia and to let his eyes take in everything that he could of her in that brief moment, as if time paused just for him. What did his daughter's stance say in that moment? With her slow exhalation, the arch of her lower back which brought her chest up at an angle, and her eyes widening...dilated. What did it say? It said she was his.

It said she was preparing herself, readying herself to cast down an open challenge. Perhaps her words did not quite signal the fullness of what was occurring in that moment, but the overall meaning was not lost upon him. She had just informed him that regardless of what others thought, regardless of what their society required of her, that she would cast it all aside if he but asked her to do so. If he but wished it she would deny this suitor and all others because of his disapproval. It was heretical, it was barbaric, it was absolutely treason against Sparta itself. Yet he loved her for it.

He turned his cheek into the motion of her hand, his eyes closing for the first time in the entirety of their conversation. Allowing him to take a measure of solace for she had read him correctly. Pained and hurt. He breathed deeply to inhale the scent of the hot water, the swift rush of air, and catching the taste of her own breath as she leaned close to him. Where other men might have gentled in their touch, intimacy taking over, he instead grew more territorial. His fingers tightened just a bit more, clasping across her taut belly as he spoke. He could feel the heat of her and it had nothing to do with the water. He stood there nude, nearly pressed against her, and he could feel the radiating warmth of woman. It stirred him.

"Damn them indeed. I agree, my daughter. Yet you have a solemn duty to our people. We spoke of it as you grew, we speak of it now. There will be no heir of my seed. Our families line ends with you. Even if I might wish you to not wed, to not leave, that you would never conceive..." He shook his head slowly. "That I would never wish."

 

[Belle Dujour]

Most children in Sparta dreaded or even feared the harsh touch of their fathers. Spartan fathers were harsh but they were not cruel. They had to prepare their children, to guard and guide them to survive best in this unyielding and unforgiving world. Even so, some children did not understand that at such a young age. But for Aelia there was never that question in her mind. She knew that when her father held her hand tight, when he pulled her in, when he was harsh it was because he was preparing her yes, but also it was because she learned at a young age that he knew no other way. Her father was not a man of gentle, feather light affection or emotion. He was a Spartan hero, a man of his conviction and strength, the sort of man thousands of soldiers would follow...and when it came to parenting, that conviction and strength translated off of the battle field and into the care with which he showed his daughter.

So when his grip tightened on her abdomen so tight that she could practically feel the ridges of his fingers imprinting themselves onto her skin through the thin fabric of the dress she wore, she did not see it as a dampening of intimacy or a sign of anger. No. When her father clasped her tight she knew it was his love language - it was the weak grip that she feared from her father, because that would be a sign he didn't care. Watching his face shift, showing the pain and hurt from the prospect of letting her go, she pressed her hand a little tighter against his cheek, speaking of her love for him in a way he would understand. She leaned forward as he spoke, pressing her forehead against his in a tender but sincere motion. She could feel the heat of his breath tickling her cheek bones and she looked into his eyes as her breathing once more became shallow but quick so that her chest rose and fell. The swells of her breasts just barely touched the muscles of his chest.

"So what do I do?" she asked, her voice a gentle whisper, a plea for an answer, "Do I follow the desire of my heart and stay here with you, my beloved, forever? Or do I follow the imperative of our people and become a mother to Spartans? My sons would surely rattle the stars themselves with their power. You can feel it can't you?" She whispered as she reached her hand down and pressed it against his over her abdomen, pushing his hand into gripping her even tighter. "You can feel the fire in my womb, fueled by the glory in our blood. Your grandsons would chase the gods themselves and your grand daughters be consorts of kings and gods alike...but they would break my heart for making me leave you so alone."

 

[Father Figure]

The fire of her womb. She spoke those words and it ignited a fire within him that was unlike any he had felt for his daughter. He looked down at her, feeling her hand against his cheek, and his jaw tightened beneath the skin of her fingers. The hand upon her as she moved closer to him and pressed near, claiming in a way that he had never quite expected to feel. It was the way his fingers splayed out across her skin, curving enough to actually cup her taut flesh that provided a measure of understanding for the Spartan general. He would have gripped a weapon in that fashion, would have held his child high in that way, a territorial claim of possession that spoke in his features as he looked down upon her. He could not deny the affect she was having upon him as he considered her in that moment as a woman, as a potential mother to the children of his families future. His own chest rose in response to the touch of hers, thick muscles tightening and flaring as he took in the scent of her hair.

She had spoken the truth of it in her flesh if not in the yielding of the decision to him. It was not something that was done in their society, amongst their people. She had a solemn duty but she was ceding the motion to him as to whether or not the duty would be fulfilled. Yet she offered to cast it aside for him out of love, an even rarer emotion amongst the Spartan people. She was everything her Mother had been and more in that moment, the beauty of her blood and the sheer fire of his mingled together into one being and he felt the clarion call in his mind. The nearness of her causing a haze upon his very vision and he moved his hand subtly downwards, just the tiniest of motions, but one that spoke of something far more dangerous between the two of them.

His voice was quiet as if he made some solemn vow of reverence. He spoke as if he were speaking to the gods in the silence of a temple. "I feel it, Aelia. I feel it. I would not give you up, nor can I deny the blessings upon you. Should you stay," his eyes narrowed as he met her gaze. "Should you stay, would you still wish to fulfill your duty to our people?"

He had spoken the words and there was no doubt as to their meaning. There could be no doubt. It was as if he had cast down a challenge before her and a mantle that she would need claim should she stay within his home. For it was there in his features, the war between his love for her and his duty to his people. Should she speak against it, should she choose to merely remain with him then he very well might cast her into the arms of another. Yet if she promised to fulfill all of her vows? That was what was being said in that moment as they remained so very close to one another. It was not unheard of, the mingling of familial lines in order to retain the purity of the blood. Yet it was still rare enough that he would not demand it of her. He offered it.

 

[Belle Dujour]

His fingers curling around her abdomen, right where her womb would be, did not take her by surprise and even that did not deter her as he hardened his grip. No. It was a different reaction altogether. It caused a rush of heat to flood through her system like she had never known, like coals buried deep in her being had been lit aflame and it made her tremble with the sudden new sensation. Pressing her lips together for a long moment she could barely remember to breathe in the wake of such a reaction. She felt that heat course through every part ofher body from her chest up to her fingers and down to her toes. But where it centered most was in her abdomen, right where her father was touching her, and it burned so deep and so hot that it developed into a physical ache like she had never known. Why was she aching so much? What was happening to her? Aelia didn't understand and it was making her mind a bit foggy...well, that and the steam of the bath...but her father's words cut straight through it.

For a moment she wasn't sure she had heard him correctly. And when she repeated the words in her head - with the memory of his voice no less - she convinced herself that maybe she was reading his meaning incorrectly. Yet he had spoken so quietly, so...reverently...as though he were whispering in the ear of Aphrodite herself...and the look in his eyes was all she needed to know to prove it. Yes. He wanted her to stay. And if she did stay, the option was open for them to fulfill the desires of their hearts and minds, to stay together and have children.

Aelia could feel the breath hitch in her throat as she suddenly felt the nearness of her father. If his fingers felt warm and tight before it was a million times more so now. She felt the weight of his gaze on her as though she was already bare before him and he feasting over her fair, maiden flesh. Suddenly every shift, every move he made in the water made her spine shudder and her skin quiver with his nearness. She felt as though he were some divine being standing before her - not one of mere muscle and bone, but one of power and fire that could command her flesh with merely a glance and made her heart thump against her chest. And truly, she considered his proposition. She had often heard of kings of old, mighty blood lines, marrying brother to sister to beget children, and fathers mating with daughters to create mighty off spring. Indeed, there were stories of the gods doing both of these things...

But could she?

She considered the alternative - being far away from him - and it made that fire in her turn so cold that it still felt as though her insides were burning. No! She could not be! The love between them was too strong...it would break her if she were to leave him. And Spartan law forbade her remaining with him should she marry. She had to remain with the man whose children she would bare...and the duty for her to have children was too strong to ignore. And in that moment she realized that should she have children, and have to remain with their father...there was no one she would rather remain with than him.

"I love you," she confessed as her legs pressed against his hips a little tighter. "Were I to leave you, I would have to rip the heart from my chest." Her hand slipped from his cheek and both her arms extended to wrap around his neck, her back slowly arching as she gazed into his eyes. Their chests now pressed together, she feeling the warm wet of the water on his muscled chest pressing through the fabric of her dress and soaking her breasts. "I choose you," she said in that same tender, praying voice that barely rose above a whisper. "I wish for you."

 

[Father Figure]

She chose him. He could not deny the impact that had upon him. It was more than the fact that she had agreed to do this with him, to stay with him, to even go so far as to provide fealty in the way only a wife would have provided him. She would give him heirs, she would grant him a family line that would carry their people onwards...the very children of his loins graced with the power of their two parents. No, it was so much more than that. She had told him that she loved him. She had said it with more than the respect that a child granted a father and more than the respect that a woman granted a man. She had said it with reverence, like a prayer, a wish upon the wind itself. Could he find it within himself to answer such a need, for it requested of him more than the familial duty. It requested of him that he lead them wherever their destiny might take them.

His body reacted in it's own way, mimicking his emotions in the flesh. He felt her legs spread round his hips, felt her breasts pressing up against him, and he decided that if she was promised to him that he would accept it as if it were divine decree. His hands moved down to bring her into the water, jerking her off the edge of the rocks and up against him fully and there she could finally feel him. Water and steam had prevented her from seeing the burgeoning flesh, the heavy thickness of her Father pressing against her as he brought their bodies flush to one another. Water moved around their bodies as he pulled her further back, obscuring them from prying eyes. Those warrior's hands, so sure and strong balanced her like she was still a child. The weight of her seeming nothing to the Spartan man, his hands gripping her rear with vicious strength. Yes, she had aroused him, it was easy to know that through her soaking wet dress...her Father's phallus as straight and true as any spear.

His voice spoke through gritted teeth, lust for his daughter evident in each punctuated word. "Then, my daughter, you will send word that you do not welcome these suitors nor any others. It will not go unremarked, but I will not have them coming to my door in order to try to take you from me. Let them call me mad, let them know I will cast down any who dare attempt to do so. Should any of them, any of them challenge for your hand," his features were harsh and unrelenting, the cast of an artisan's statue. "Then I will kill them."

The threat was one not made with lightness. Her Father never threatened. He had spoken it and it would be as if it had been writ as prophecy. He would kill the man who dared tried to claim her. He had not claimed her though, not as of yet, but there was little doubt that in the next few moments he would do so. His eyes searched hers as if he were studying his enemy, looking for an opening, and if this was the hint of what lovemaking with her Father was to be like...then there was little doubt he would give his young daughter no reprieve. His head lowered to kiss her, capturing her lips, his own slow and deliberate...the first of many kisses to come.

 

[Belle Dujour]

Aelia gasped as his hands moved around her body to jerk her into the water. As she slid down against him she became aware of just how aroused she had made him - feeling his impressive member pushing against her thigh. This sensation of feeling him against her leg and the realization that this was her doing - that she was the one who had given him such a reaction...it was a strangely empowering one. Aelia had never been intimate with a man but she knew the secret tricks it took to please him, and the fact that she had not done any of those - had just been herself - and still got him so hard was a testament to their connection. She knew then that what she had felt, the heat in her abdomen, the fire in her veins, it was the same kind of arousal too. It took being in his arms finally for the fire to reveal its true intent. She was utterly and completely aroused by him. And...she adored it. She loved his hands on her rear, tightly squeezing and massaging her skin, holding her as tightly as though she were the one he held most dear in the world. Aelia could feel her heart pounding in her chest and that same heat from before traveling up and touching her skin til her cheeks were pink.

And when spoke his voice was like kindle to that fire. She could feel it burning brighter, hotter, threatening to consume her body and soul. And it left her trembling. The sound of his words instinctualy made her arms around his neck tighten and her legs brush against his, her soft skin rubbing against his tight muscle, won from from years on the battle field. He gave her a command and a promise and with those two things, they built their future as though words alone were brick and mortar. Until now she had not thought of a fire burning in him aside from the obvious erection - but as she gazed into his eyes as they watched her she realized that a similar fire was burning in him, one that could match hers and together they could burn through any who dared threaten the love they felt for one another.

"Yes, Sir, I shall. And if you are mad then so shall I be," she answered as he studied her eyes. "For I will have it known that it is not your will or threats that keep me here, but the sincerest desire of my own heart."

At that moment he lowered to kiss her and she did not move away. This was their moment, this they could not - would not take back. This moment changed everything, but rather than take away, this made everything new. And Aelia chose to make it so. She wanted it. She would have it. Leaning up she met his lips before they could fully reach down to hers as a silent tell that even now when actions backed up the words she promised, she still chose him. Her lips were warm and soft against his as she kissed him with a surprising amount of tenderness. Her heart no longer felt that this was her father, for in her heart he was the soul made for hers, her perfect match and companion. And she would have him only as that. A soft moan escaped her throat as she deepened the kiss, pressing her lips a little harder against his.

 

[Father Figure]

Fever took over him but he was not foolish enough to imagine his daughter was ready for what this might entail. He was an intelligent man, a general of his people, and he knew deep down that while he might have her at his mercy that attempting to take her would not engender the surrender that he wanted from her flesh. It was far too soon for such things, yet he was no gentle lover. He had rarely shown kindness other than in his willingness to cede to her desires, and that was more the kindness he showed to her now as they shared that kiss. A surrendering of his own requirements in order to ensure her very happiness. It was that emotional connection which ensured that she wanted to remain with him, that willingness to protect her at all costs. It would be the same spirit that ensured the safety of their offspring, of their family, and of their home.

He knew the future would be one fraught with danger for them both.

His tongue moved against her own to claim her, flicking as he remembered the past and what it had been like with her very own mother. No, this was not akin to that. Her mother had been a gentle form, though not a gentle soul, and his daughter held a strength within her that could never be quenched. This was a shared fire, his fingers gripping upon her young flesh, and he showed mercy in the fact that he did not attempt to impale her in this very instant. Instead he moved deeper to pull her with him, sliding up onto one of the heavy rocks that served as a small bench, his daughter straddling him in the hot waters. That mercy only went so far as the kiss continued and his hands came up to the top of her dress, gripping it tightly and tearing it down her shoulders to bare her to him. It was at this moment he broke the kiss to slowly look down, his eyes full of wonder at what he saw.

Surely this was not his daughter. Surely this was Aphrodite incarnate. She was perfection, the way the water slid down her flesh and across the swell of her bosom. She was everything a Spartan woman should be, fertile and in full bloom, and he could no longer deny himself the feeling of want he had for her. His head lunged down like a striking serpent so that his mouth could latch upon one of her tightened nipples, a moan of his own finally elicited from his throat as he captured it within his lips and gave a slow tug. Fingers moved, sliding up to her arms to grip them and force them behind her back so that he could bring her up into an arch against him. The hands tightening as they had earlier in their conversation, possessively claiming her in as his own.

 

[Belle Dujour]

As the kiss continued, Aelia could feel her father's hands on her skin, holding her tighter as the water began shifting around them. The ripples and gentle waves were a testament to how excited they were making one another. She was no limp fish caught in his net and he was no reluctant participant. The both of them were utterly enthralled with one another, their bodies brushing and rubbing against one another - some touches soft and some touches not so soft. And Aelia probably enjoyed the not so soft touches more. There was still a very small part of her that told her she should not enjoy it, that were they to indulge themselves now that it would mean danger later on. They could become pariahs in their society... These sorts of relations were not forbidden per se, but neither were they encouraged or lauded. Mostly it was for the children. More often than not, children born of unions between family members were somewhat...strange. And Spartans could not have that. But that would not be true of them! Their children would be utterly glorious.

And just as Aelia thought her dress was starting to feel too heavy against her fair skin, her father hooked his fingers around the sleeves of her dress and pulled it down. Aelia had never taught to be afraid of her nakedness, not in front of anyone, but even so as his eyes gazed down over her slender, smooth body she could feel heat reaching up and coloring her cheeks a delicate pink. But this would be true were it any man, though this was not just any man. This was her Eurotas. This was the truest companion of her soul. Her lover. And just as the breath her her throat began to escalate and her soft, round breasts rose and fell, she saw him reach down and take a firm hold of one of her nipples. Aelia cried out in sudden pleasure as she arched her back so her chest could buck up towards his lips. As she felt his hands tightening around her, she did the same to him - her arms wrapping around his neck so that her fingers could reach up into his hair and twist into his locks so she could tug it passionately.

Searing pleasure coursed up from her breasts into her heart and all throughout her body. Aelia felt her knees tremble under the weight of that heat, and as she threw her head back her long, dark hair fell down and into the water. Her breasts rose and fell in his lips as though constantly reminding him of the feast that they were for him. Breaths were deep and ragged as they rushed in and out of her throat and as she sighed the sounds were pleading moans. "Aah-! Oh, gods...!" she gasped as she felt her hips start to very lightly touch against his hips. "I've never...never felt anything like this!"

 

[Father Figure]

Slowly the dynamic began to change in that moment, slowly everything began to crystalize into something much more than just intimacy between him and his beautiful Aelia. He could feel her hardening nub against his tongue, feel her shivering and moving with her desire for him and his eyes grew lambent with his stark desire to conquer her in the most visceral of fashions. He had lain with women, he had experienced much in his long life and had them offer themselves in droves to be with someone such as he. Yet she, his Aelia...his daughter, she was so much more than any of them. The embodiment of every dream, the beauty of a realm entire, and his head moved when she tugged with her strength upon his hair. His face tilted upwards to stare at her, his lips slightly swollen from the powerful way he had been suckling upon her perfect bosom and he did not smile.

Her Father rarely smiled.

Instead he looked upon her with a covetous gaze, his eyes narrowed as if judging the distance between him and an opponent. It was the look of possession that could not be truly expressed but could only be felt. His fingers which had moments before ripped open her dress for him to partake of her flesh continued their motions so that he could lay proper claim to her. He pulled her free of the last bit of her clothing so that it was left free floating in the water, lightly moving away from them both in the steaming liquid. There was just the two of them now, bare and open to one another, and it was time. It was time that they understood exactly what they were doing with one another. His hands came down to grip her young ass, giving it a vicious clasp with his fingers as he rolled his hips upwards in response to her motions.

There was no need to be a braggart, no need to emphasize the perfection her Father's muscled form. He was in all ways a true man, and in this he did not let his daughter down. The length of him brushed across her most private of areas as his sculpted ass flexed upon the stone beneath them. His fingers guided her, knowing that she might be called to sensuality but new to the experience of it, rolling her against him as he rocked beneath her. His eyes never left hers as he straightened himself, bringing their chests together. He could feel his slickness, her excitement, yet he did not enter her. He did not take her, no, not yet. He wanted his Aelia readied for him, prepared for the moment to come, and he leaned his forehead against hers as he breathed in deeply...taking in the exhales of her beautiful lips.

He had no words to say, no words to give. What his body said to her in that moment was enough.

 

[Belle Dujour]

As her father removed his lips from her breasts she felt herself give out a little moan of gratitude - thanking him for being so attentive and so wonderfully sensual with her body. The removal of the stimulus slowly brought her back down from the high she was on and the steam in the room seemed to part for a moment as she caught glance of her father's gaze on her body. Aelia would never be able to understand just how he had such erotic power over her...but holy gods! When he looked at her like that, the fire in his lustful eyes called to hers once more and fueled it so deeply that her desire for him settled into her lower abdomen like a groaning ache! If she did not have him, if he were to refuse her now, she thought her entire body might come un done. But there was no true doubt in Aelia's mind. Eurotas's gaze said it all:
You. Are. Mine.
He had said only moments ago that he would kill the man that tried to take Aelia from him...and now he looked as though he would fight the gods themselves should they even try.

With a sudden grab and tear, the last of her clothing fell away and Aelia gasped - not in revulsion but in excitement. Yes! She was excited! As she felt his hands grip her rear she used this as an excuse to start exploring his body. The male form was never one she had explored personally, only admired in sculptures and paintings, and this...her father's form...was more wonderful than any of them! Her fingers traced his skin, cupping his muscles, and pressing into the smooth heat of his flesh. Rolling their bodies together she could feel something else strong and warm brushing against her and she drew in a sudden breath that left her biting her bottom lip. This...ah, she had not prepared herself for how it might feel...but as he pressed their chests together and their hips ground against one another, Aelia knew that she wanted it! She wanted her Father's phallus.

His warm breath tickled her lips and she leaned forward to close the distance, needing to taste him. Her lips were warm and soft but pressed against him with the strength of her desire and she moaned once more against his own delicious lips. Ah, she wanted those lips all over her body - kissing every wonderful place and smooth touch of skin, wanted to feel his hands pressing her down, and wanted so many hot and glorious things she didn't know how to even describe them. "I love you," was all she said against his lips and then slowly leaned away so she could gaze into his eyes as her arms reached up to wrap around his neck once more. "I. Am. Yours."

 

[Father Figure]

Need nearly pushed him over the cliffs and down the rocky shores. Her Father was not some foolish man and he understood the desires she was feeling even as those very same ones slammed against him like the shield of an opponent. Jarring, forcing his mind to reel in a dazed stupor. It was the drugged mind that euphoria and lust caused in the male form and every inch of him radiated that very fact that he wanted her. Her hands moved over his muscled chest, the body tightening at her touch and then softening as she caressed. His lips pressed once more in turn against her own and he captured her into that kiss, ensnaring his goddess and reveling in heady feeling of their tongues entwined. His lips were bruising in that moment, for her words needed to be returned but he did not want to speak. He wanted that kiss to last eternal.

Yet he would cast down any man who dared take this nymph away from him but he would never harm her. No, even if his desire was ten fold what it was now he would never harm her. Even if he were one day furious beyond anything he had ever felt, he knew deep down he could never harm her. Not harming her was the decision he faced now as he rocked back and forth against her. He took a slow deep breath as he tried to regain a measure of control over himself, for if this continued he was going to enter her. He knew that to be true as well. He was going to grip her young bottom, jerk her down, and impale her as fiercely as his powerful frame was capable of. It would hurt her deeply, he thought.

He needed her to be ready.

He broke the kiss slowly, nibbling along the side of her jaw to kiss below her ear. Sensuality was not something that would have been expected of him but it was something her Father had learned well. Like all things knowing your enemy would ensure their defeat and he had often engaged in such maneuvering with his beautiful wife. Now though it was his daughter, his lovely young Aelia and he ran his tongue up along the curve of her ear before whispering for her ears alone. No other would hear the voice she heard in that moment. Raspy, driven, determined, and he needed her. Just as she needed him...Eurotas needed her.

"Climb off, my love. Off with you...up onto the edge and bend over for me. If you are mine then show me that you are."

 

[Belle Dujour]

Trust was such a funny thing. Aelia had never been burned on trust so she was not as jaded as some, and yet she gave her trust out in small increments as though it were gold she could never get back. There were little coins dropped here and there in friends she took joy in spending time with, a few more heaps when it came to the Priests and Priestesses who conveyed her prayers tot he gods above. And then there was her Father. In him she had put all of her trust. In his heart was the vault which she had stored all of her trust, knowing that it would be secure, knowing he would treasure the treasure that she presented him with. And as the trust grew, love was its interest, adding to the sum of it all and amplifying it even so. There was no one in this world that Aelia loved more, because there was no one she trusted more.

And this love between them now...though it was new and different...was not strange. Aelia kept waiting for the strangeness to kick in, the sudden realization that she couldn't go through with this, that this was as wrong as what some thought it was...but there was nothing. It was as though she was waiting for a storm that never came. And finally as he pressed his lips against hers and she felt the warm, slick taste of his tongue she decided she was going to stop waiting. Because this was that same love she had always known for him, always shown him, just merely wearing another face, another mask. And it was a damn good mask. Aelia let out a soft, low moan as he began nipping and licking her skin. Closing her eyes she arched her head back and felt the warm, wet touch of her long hair tickling the back of her shoulders.

"Yes," she shivered as his voice stoked the fire in her body. "Yes, my love..."

Carefully she dislodged herself and turned away from him as she slowly walked towards the edge of the tub. Getting up onto the edge of the tub as he requested, she felt the cool touch of the stone against her hands and her cheek as she bent over. It was all cold away from her Father's touch. Nothing would ever feel as warm as his hands on her body again - not even fire itself.

 

[Father Figure]

To say he approached her with worship in his motions would not have been an exaggeration. Coming towards her was like kneeling in the temples of the gods themselves, bending his head before a statue of Aphrodite and seeking as he had in his youth the favor of her upon him and his love. What had he wished for then when he had knelt with his betrothed next to him, beseeching the goddess for her touch upon their union? Was it that he would be granted prowess in bed as he had prowess on the field, or was it something more personal that held important at this particular moment. At this particular instant. Because he remembered, Eurotas remembered with perfect clarity what he had asked for when he looked up at the Goddess's carved and sensual face gazing down upon him.

He had prayed for the blessing of a child.

It should have perhaps represented not just strangeness for them both that he she had been born from his loins, but also perhaps sickness that he would gaze upon her in the haze of the room as the gods only intended lovers to gaze. Yet he felt none of that, just as she felt none of that. Instead he felt almost transcended at the sight of her nude flesh. The water glistening on her backside, tracing down in rivulets across her thighs, but they both knew what he was truly gazing upon. The way her bottom opened to revealed her tight young holes, the vision of her aroused labias and the offering of her flesh. She was like an avatar of the goddess herself and he felt as if he were in a dream as his hands came out to take hold of her once more. This time though he spread her lewdly as he knelt behind her, wishing to partake.

It was a feast better than any other that had been offered to his lips. He leaned in, inhaling the scent of her sex, shivering as his eyes closed. Yet like in all things what might have been gentle was not so with her father. No, his head moved in and he captured her sex upon his mouth, his tongue spearing deep within her. He gave a low languid sound of approval from the back of her throat as he tasted her on his tongue, thrilling to the feel of ambrosia that began to smear slightly across his features. He had wanted her ready and he intended for her to be, and so he took his time in moving against her even as he did so in such a demanding flicking of his tongue. There was fire in his veins but he had it banked now, embers slowly being stroked as he satisfied his craving for her.

And finally his tongue slid down further as he pressed his visage tighter against her rear, slipping to catch across the hardened nub of her clitoris.

 

[Belle Dujour]

Aelia could feel her heart picking up a frantic beat as she heard him move towards her in the water. Was this it? Was it time for their bodies to join? She knew of the pain that would come - it was natural for every woman, but Spartan women were taught not to fear the pain. The pain was their final test, how they weathered it would determine if they were fit to bare Spartan children for their father's noble blood line. And there was no blood more worthy than her Father's! Aelia closed her eyes and took in a deep breath to prepare herself...but pain never came. Instead she felt his hands take a firm hold of the round, smooth skin of her rear and begin kneading it. He caressed and tugged at the skin, spreading her so that he could get a better look at her. Aelia was never taught to be ashamed of her nakedness but all the same she felt a rush of heat touch her face as she realized he was seeing more of her than anyone...even she had seen.

But then she felt his tongue reach out and touch that sacred most private part of her. Aelia let out a loud gasp and arched her back in an instinctive reaction to the sudden surge of pleasure that took almost as tight a hold of her as her Father's hands. A low moan rippled from the back of her throat and made her legs shiver under the weight of the passion and pleasure he was giving her. By all the gods! Surely not even Ares pleasured Aphrodite as well as his tongue was pleasing her! Aelia felt her hips slowly rolling back into his lips as she craved more and more of that touch. It was instinct. It was the basest, more primal instinct. Pleasure. Giving and oh the sweetness of receiving! She felt her fingers pressing into the stone floor, curling her digits so that her top knuckles rubbed against the hard ground. Her breaths came in deep gasps and moans that echoed through out the bath house and made the rest of her body shiver in the deepest desire. She had known that men sometimes pleasured women in vast ways...but never had she ever imagined this would be done to her - for her.

And she was utterly grateful.
"Aah-! Mmn...Father that-that feels so...so wonderful!" she groaned as she reached back with one hand and began gently running her fingers through his hair to caress and massage his head show her appreciation as he continued to lick and suck her.

 

[Father Figure]

He could have tried to pursue this further, he knew that. There were a myriad of ways that he could have pleasured her and she in turn could have provided to him. He could have had her lovely mouth, shown her the ways that a tongue could bring such pleasure to the body. He could have teased her with his fingertips, dipping deep within her again and again as his thumb rolled over her excited flesh. He could have brought her a small measure of pain, spanking her rear and tugging upon her hair...though he was certain that might very well happen. Yet all of that was something that would come in the future for them, all of that was something that would perhaps be explored when this moment ended. When this moment was in their past. She had offered him something, she had decided to give up her womanhood to him, to let him have her innocence and to make of her not only a woman but also a mother.

It was time. She offered and he would take.

His large frame straightened behind her after giving one final long caress with his tongue up her perfect sex. He straightened and with his hands on her ass he slowly moved her backside left to right, admiring what he was about to claim. His features were narrow, tight, the cheeks outlined as his jaw clenched and he moved forward in the water to brace himself on the warm stone. His muscled back tightened as he hunched down just slightly in a near squat behind his daughter, his hands sliding now along her body to caress over her bosom and them further so that he grasped her shoulders from underneath her. It brought his chest down against her smooth back, his face near to hers so that he could kiss her throat once more. He shuddered, the head of him finding with natural ease the waiting emptiness of his Aelia and he hissed at how slick and warm she was.

There was no turning back now. Not now as he slowly teased with just the tip of his flesh and his voice whispered into her ear. "Brace yourself."

The strong thighs tightened. The hands gripped down upon her. There was the feeling of sudden motion and then her Father owned her completely. He speared her on that thick prick, no longer the gentleness that had pervaded some of their earlier motions, but the total taking of her virginity. He grunted with the force of his blow, his hips rocking up hard to slam against her taut rear and then it was over...her Father buried completely within her womb. No longer merely Aelia the daughter...but now Aelia the lover.

 

[Belle Dujour]

As his tongue left her Aelia shivered but she did not whimper - her Father's hands were still roaming on her body and as long as there was that connection there was nothing to be upset over. The warm ridges of his finger tips travelled around her ass and she felt the breath start to quiver in her chest. There was something utterly erotic about the way he moved her, the way he inspected her. He inspected her as though he were a lion looking over the smooth curves of a deer it looked to devour, seeing if it was worth the effort. Certainly that might have put off other girls, but Aelia was not like other girls. She wanted her Father's hands, his tight grip, his lips and teeth pressing against all parts of her body. She wanted to be devoured - to be utterly taken in and surrender to the power of their combined desire.

And as he shifted in the water and brought his tip to her opening she drew in a breath which came out as a long, pleading moan as he hunched over her, pressing his chest against her back. His hands wandered up her body, teasing and caressing her before settling on her shoulders. As he brought his head down to kiss her neck, Aelia shivered and arched her neck towards his lips. She bit down on her bottom lip as she felt his tip touch against her opening and she arched her back as well, which made her hips brush around his perfect tip. The lion had her now in its wicked, seductive grasp and she could feel his hot breath on her neck.

"I'm ready," she purred in a whisper back to him as she rolled her hips up against him once more. "I love you, my Father..."

And then he entered her. She was already so wet, so slick, that his impressive member slid into her deeply and now she truly belonged to her Father. Aelia cried out as pain clenched around her lower body and she clenched her jaw and fingers tightly. This sacred pain, this last test to prove her worthiness, she wanted to prove herself to her beloved. In this moment the binds that solidified them as father and daughter fell away. There was no restriction, no boundary between them now - they were two souls made for one another, two bodies who craved one another. Yes. Even now as she was in pain, she could feel that desire radiating from every corner of her body. The momentary was nothing compared to the pleasure he had given her moments ago and would soon. Her body winced but the adoration for him in her heart - and her desire - only grew.

 

[Father Figure]

He loved her as well, he loved her deeply, and that love was only growing in every moment that they were together. Yet what had started out as something intimate and powerful between the two of them, what had begun as something of intense emotion had not graduated into something that was far more primal for her Father. Eurotas moved his head while she moved against him, rolling her hips back in offering...his shaft impaling deep within her as she made her cry of supplication. She had given him everything and now there was only one thought that dominated this entire being. Breeding. He wanted a child with her, he wanted to own her in more than just having bedded her. Bedding could be done with any woman, his Aelia offered him something more and that was the only reason that he was with her. She offered him lineage, honor, and a generation of their offspring that would rock the very foundation of Sparta.

Yet such thoughts were far too civilized for his mind at the moment.

Now he did what men had done throughout history when in the throes of madness known as lust. He fucked her. His head turned so that her bared throat was his for the taking and he bit her, laying his mark upon her. He would no longer hide if she would not, he would keep nothing from the world. The servants would talk regardless, there was little doubt as to the fact that they more than likely had been seen by the household slaves. No, he would place his brand upon her and that tongue applied suction as he formed his lips against her throat...teeth digging in just a tiny bit. His reply to her words of love came in the form of the grunts of a man exercising, as if training in the courtyard, for he was relentless in what he did to her.

And what was he doing?

He was turning his hips so that he was angled straight into her, his feet bracing themselves firmly so that he would not slip on the slick rocks. His thighs and buttocks flexed in hard knots with every motion as he pummeled into her, again and again slapping against the ass that seemed made to be taken. His fingers tightened on her shoulders in the act to jerk her back into him, every thrust home involving an equally brutal pull backwards. It would cause her perfect tits to sway, the sound of his skin slapping against hers echoing loudly in the silent room. There was little doubt that Eurotas was near orgasm, his sac already heavy with his seed, but he held it back with cruelty to himself...wanting to lay victory upon his daughter's flesh.