Dancing With Dionysus

Chapter One

"Faster," the nymph told Kalliara coldly. "You need to spinfaster, and more finely, or we'll give you to the Maenads. It's your choice."

Kalliara felt as though a ball of fire was burning in her stomach. It took every bit of her strength just to hold her composure. She gripped her spindle tightly, and looked up into the nymph's eyes. The creature was beautiful, with pale green skin and darker, riotous green hair that hung down in waves to below her waist. Her shimmering gown was created from woven thread so perfect that not even a spider's silk could rival it.Never in a thousand years will I be able to spin thread that delicate , Kalliara thought in desperation.

She was going to die here. She knew it.

"Gracious Lady," she whispered, fighting back her tears. She kept her words formal, hoping to appeal to the nymph's vanity. "I cannot do as you ask. No mere mortal will ever be able to spin thread such as that produced by you and your sisters."

The nymph's beautiful features twisted into a sneer. Around them, Kalliara could hear the other nymphs laughing, like the sound of a thousand tiny silver bells. How could beings so beautiful be so cruel? They knew her task was impossible. They were simply playing with her before they killed her…

"Mortals are so foolish," the nymph said, shrugging. "You really should have considered that before you boasted of your skills. By challenging us, you sealed your own fate."

"I didn't challenge you," Kalliara whispered. She could feel the tears welling up again, and she bit her lip sharply. The salty taste of her own blood filled her mouth, and the sharp pain of the bite distracted her. She took a deep breath and continued. "I have never claimed to spin better than any of Dionysus' children. I don't know where you heard that I had, but I assure you it never happened."

"Well, some human said something about it," the nymph said, waving a hand languidly. "I can't be bothered to try and tell you apart. Once we heard such a thing, we could hardly let it stand, could we? Now spin for us, little human. Prove your skills or pay our price. And spin quickly. The waiting grows tedious."

Kalliara ducked her head, and started spinning again. Steadily she wound the coarse wool between her fingers, trying to make the thread as smooth as possible. As the spindle slowly dropped toward the floor and the length of thread grew, she couldn't help but feel some pride in her work. The thread was lovely, without lumps, strong and smooth. But it would never rival the thread spun by the nymphs of Dionysus. She was definitely going to die.

Soon they would give her to the Maenads, crazed women who would rip her apart with their bare hands. This was Dionysus' island, and tonight was his festival. The god of birth and death would show her no pity, she knew that already. She had never been one of his children.

She tried not to listen to the low, tinkling murmur of the nymphs and dryads around her. Even as they tormented her, they prepared themselves to celebrate the god's festival. Soon revelry would overtake the island. They would drink and dance with the satyrs, while the Maenads raged around them, drunk on the god's power. Wise humans kept themselves locked in their stone houses on nights like these, praying for mercy. But Kalliara's home was miles away, on the other side of the small speck of land that Dionysus had claimed as his own. Few humans lived on Naxos by choice, and those who did had learned to be cautious—

One of the nymphs gave a shriek, a combination of surprise and fear.

Kalliara's head jerked up. All around her, satyrs were pouring into the wooded clearing where the nymphs held her prisoner. Enormous, standing taller than any man in the village, the satyrs terrified her. Their bodies rippled with muscle, dark and tanned from the sun. They swept in, laughing and leaping, grabbing up the nymphs. Their hair flew in all directions, and many had bushy beards. Wild creatures, completely uncivilized, their upper halves resembled those of men, but their legs were those of goats.Aroused goats, she realized with a shudder.

Their penises were large and erect. Right before her eyes, one of the satyrs grabbed the cruel nymph who had tormented her. He threw her to the ground, ripping at her clothing and thrust himself between her legs. The nymph screamed, but her legs wrapped around his waist and she held him tightly as he rode her. Bile rose in Kalliara's throat.

She suddenly realized that for the first time since they'd taken her, the nymphs weren't paying attention to their captive. This was her chance to get away, if she moved quickly enough. She pulled the length of her shawl up and over her head, and ducked down. For once she was grateful that she'd never been able to afford expensive dyes for her clothing. The dun-colored wool would serve her well as camouflage while she made her way across the island at night.

She raised her spindle to her mouth, biting through the thread to free it.

The silliness of her actions startled her—of all the things to worry about at a time like this, keeping her spindle should be a very low priority indeed.

But in the time it took her to think it, the spindle was free and tucked in the cloth pouch that dangled from her belt. She scuttled across the clearing, ducking between satyrs and nymphs, trying not to take in what was happening around her. They were coupling wildly, gripped by the ecstasy and violence that only the god could induce. It sickened her.

At last she was on the outskirts of the clearing, scrambling through the brush. She paused to catch her breath when a new sound filled her ears. It was the high, keening shriek of the Maenads. They were near, and if they found her she would die at their hands. She had to keep moving.

She pulled herself to her feet, desperately clutching the folds of her shawl around her head.

Time to go.

There was something different in the air, Sabiniano thought, setting down the scroll he was reading. It was the eve of the mid-winter festival, and all around him his people were starting their revels. He could sense their every movement, smell their lust. Already they were drunk. The Maenads roved through the forests, looking for their victims and dancing in praise of the god. All of that was as it should be. But there was something else.

Slowly he walked through the temple of Dionysus, passing through the broad pillars and out onto the porch. The temple stood on the highest point on the island, and from his vantage point he could see across the wooded hills all the way to the ocean. The moon was full, casting silvery light across his domain. He sniffed the air, closing his eyes to focus on the scents around him. There was a group of satyrs and nymphs, fucking wildly. Nothing of interest. He could smell the Maenads, too. They had found a deer, and were cornering it. Soon they would rip it apart with their bare hands, drinking the blood. Once again, nothing of interest to him. There were many ways to worship the god. Sabiniano knew all too well how the smell of blood pleased Dionysus.

He turned, extending his senses further. He could feel the fear radiating from the humans who lived at the small port. They, too, existed to serve the god, providing his people with what little they desired from the outside world. The humans were locked in their small stone houses, calling on Dionysus to keep them safe. Sabiniano snorted in amusement. He knew how little Dionysus cared for these souls under his protection. The humans would live tonight, but only because they served a purpose. He had long forbidden his people to enter their village during the festival. When the god touched them with his madness, the temptation to rape and kill was too strong. Dionysus was many things, but never gentle.

There was more fear. Here and there across the island were small groups of humans. He tested each of them—some were women who had come to join the Maenads. Their fate was out of his hands; either the god would accept them or he wouldn't. In another place he sensed two teenage boys. They had snuck out of their parents' homes, daring each other to spend a night in the forest during the festival. Sabiniano wondered idly if they would survive the night…they had found a good place to hide. He could smell their strength and vitality, and smiled. Such daring was appealing to the god. They would survive, although perhaps not with their virginity intact. The nymphs and dryads were fond of tasting human meat between their thighs.

Still further he reached out, until he found what he was looking for.

Something unusual, a woman running through the trees. She smelled like fear, like the village. When would the villagers learn to stay inside at times like this? he thought in disgust. Her fear would excite the god; there would be little mercy for her if the satyrs caught her. He breathed in the air more deeply, then stopped in shock. No wonder she smelled different. This was no child of Dionysus; this woman worshipped Athena, and she had invaded their sacred rites.

Sabiniano tensed, opening his eyes and squeezing his fists in anger. She was an interloper; she would be punished. How could he have missed her presence on the island? She was a villager. How long had she been in their midst, existing beneath his notice? Sabiniano reached back into his memory, searching for the last time he had gone amongst the villagers and inspected them. With a shock, he realized it had been more than a century. He shook his head in self-disgust. He had allowed his boredom to interfere with his duty to Dionysus.

Time to go find the woman.

Kalliara ran through the trees, gasping for breath and clutching her dress up around her knees. She had no idea where she was, no idea how to find the village, but to stop running was to die. She burst into a clearing, uncertain of which direction to go. All around her were predators. In the distance she heard the sound of drums and pipes playing. She froze, trying to control her breathing.More satyrs? She wondered.

Instinctively, she ducked into the brush ringing the clearing, pulling as much of it over her body as she could. The music grew louder, and with horror she realized they were coming directly toward her. Filled with dread, she ducked her head into the ground, praying to Athena to protect her from them.

The rich, loamy scent of the earth filled her nose. The drums grew louder, and the pipes wailed like living things, screaming into the night for release.

Against her will, she felt some of the god's wildness coming into her. The air itself was filled with it, and the earth felt warm and soft against her skin. Unable to control her curiosity, she opened her eyes and looked up just enough to peek through the brush at the musicians. A procession of satyrs and nymphs was entering the clearing, clutching skins of wine and drinking deeply.

The satyrs were the most frightening. Their eyes were wild, and with a shock she realized that they had horns sprouting from their foreheads. They danced naked, their erect cocks jutting proudly into the night air. One threw his head back, dropping a hand to stroke himself lewdly. His hips thrust against his hand, and he howled with pleasure.

Then a nymph, her body brown and speckled, came up and rubbed herself against him. She reached up, draping her arms around his neck, and pulled him down toward her for a kiss. Sinuously wrapping one of her legs around his body, he reached down to hold her, digging his fingers into her ass. With a cry, he threw the nymph down to the ground, wrenching her legs apart. She clawed at him with her fingernails, and small rivulets of blood started running down his back. He howled again, and thrust himself into her cunt, humping at her like a maddened dog.

Kalliara realized she was holding her breath. She'd never seen anything like this before; she didn't know what to think. All around the clearing, the nymphs and dryads were flinging off their clothing. A wild dance was starting; they leapt and circled to the wail of the pipes. The beating of the drums grew louder until it filled her ears and pounded through her. It was a rhythmic pounding. The satyrs thrust their cocks against the night air, then started grappling the nymphs and pushing them to the ground.

One couple landed on the ground directly in front of her. She could smell the hot musk of the satyr, and hear the nymph shriek in pleasure and triumph. They rolled with each other, the nymph scrambling out of his reach directly into the arms of another satyr. He grasped her shoulders, pushing her to her knees until his enormous erection touched her mouth. With a sensuous smile, she made a purring noise and parted her lips. She pulled him in slowly and steadily, and he threw his head back with a growl.

The second satyr crawled up behind her. He grasped her around the waist, pulled her body back against his. Kalliara could see his enormous cock jutting against the nymph, hard and smooth. A tiny vein pulsed up along its length to the wide, flaring head. A pearl of fluid beaded up on the tip, and the satyr shuddered. He pulled the nymph's legs apart, fingering the wet hole that awaited him. In fascination, Kalliara watched as he fitted his cock head against the hole, then thrust in slowly and steadily. How could such a large object fit into the nymph's small body? She wondered. It was amazing, mesmerizing.

The satyr grunted in satisfaction, gripping the nymph's waist tightly. Then he started thrusting against her hard, slamming her head forward into the other satyr's cock. The three creatures twisted against each other in dark pleasure, the nymph a full participant in the seeming violation of her body.

The earth seemed even warmer beneath Kalliara, and she felt a hot moistness growing between her legs. Dionysus' magic—thick with sex and violence—hung in the air like a tangible thing.

The threesome pounded away at each other for long moments, their movements growing more and more frantic. Finally, the satyr who was still standing pulled his hard length from the nymph's mouth, spraying her with white, ropy lengths of his seed. She cried out, and the satyr behind her pushed her upper body down into the ground. Now only her hips remained high, the satyr ramming into her again and again. She clawed at the earth, moaning and shuddering as he came into her one last time. His buttocks spasmed and he grunted, howling his pleasure. Immediately they leapt to their feet, rejoining the dance. The whole thing seemed like a dream.

She raised her eyes, looking across the clearing. Almost all the dancers were coupling now, satyrs and nymphs, even satyrs and satyrs. Every hole was filled, every hand groped at the bodies surrounding it. They squeezed and clawed in their madness for each other, and screams cut across the music as often as moans. Another grouping caught her eye. Three green nymphs had captured a satyr. One held his legs, and another his arms, while a third rode him wildly, holding the length of his beard like a bridle. He thrust up at her, struggling desperately to get free.

Three other satyrs stopped dancing and fell upon them. Two grabbed the nymphs who had been holding their brother's arms and legs, falling upon them like starving men on food. The third pushed the nymph down across the satyr she was riding. Her victim cried out in triumph, pulling her mouth to his for a brutal kiss. The creature behind her rubbed his hard cock several times then fitted it against her tight, green ass. He thrust into her with a triumphant shout, and she cried out, pushing herself up on her arms. Pinned between the two men, she could only brace herself against their thrusts, moaning with every movement. Kalliara shuddered, and a tear of terror ran down her cheek. How would she survive if they caught her?

Even as the thought formed, she felt a heavy weight come down on her. A hand came around, covering her mouth, and another pulled the shawl from her head.

The body on top of her was hard and male. She could feel the tensed strength in every inch of him. He was breathing slowly and steadily, and to her horror she could feel something thick and hard pressing against her ass.

It was too late; she was caught.

She breathed deeply, trying to control her panic. Then a deep, rumbling voice spoke in her ear.

"What do you think you're doing on my island, little human?" the voice asked, its tone cruel and mocking. "You don't belong here, and now you're going to pay the price."