Gabrielle is a freelance writer who has been writing under one guise or another for ten years. She has done everything from tech writing, to writing features for magazines, to composing novels in various stages of completion. Her erotica has been published at Sexilicious and at Adult Story Corner. She also has a busy sideline writing erotic content for adult web sites.
Rites of The Wine God
The knife plunged into the offering and red splattered her naked body. Grapes, red and full of the juice of life, split open, anointing her with their liquid. Her fingers wiped the knife blade clean and then she licked each one, the flavor bittersweet.
Ariadne gazed at the white marble statue of her God in the alcove of the temple. Her heart jumped just thinking about him, and her lust squeezed her like a snake, coiling at the base of her spine. The God's cold stone form was the perfect shape of manhood. His well-muscled body, lit by the smoking torches, showed strength and power in every line. His handsome face was sensual and cruel. His lips, she knew, were as soft as the velvet skin of a fruit, but his eyes were hard. A crown of grape leaves rested in his curly hair, the grapes adorning it cold and white.
Her gaze fell upon the huge member thrusting outward from his stone hips. She yearned to feel it again hot and thrusting between her lips, between her legs, as she did every month during the fullness of the moon. Ariadne was already wet in anticipation, her vulvar lips swelling, clit pulsing. She knew she must gather her strength if she was to claim and subdue him. This was her purpose, her destiny.
The Maenads were chanting on their knees, their naked, oiled bodies swaying as they held hands in a circle around the altar. It was time.
"Bring the sacrifice!" The High Priestess commanded.
Batia broke the circle, and left the ring of columned shadows. She returned after a moment with a young man, naked, blindfolded and bound, with just enough freedom to walk beside her, unsteady from the wine he'd been given to soothe his fears. The Priestess smiled as she noted that the young man was trembling despite the wine as Batia led him to the altar. She was certain he was untouched by any woman; Batia had chosen him for this very reason.
Ariadne stood in the middle of the circle of women, her back to the altar, and began the incantation. She stopped in front of the first kneeling Maenad, Cyrene, who took the boy's flaccid member in her mouth. She licked and sucked him, fingering his balls until he swelled in her mouth. Batia tugged at him and brought him to Lydia who continued the ritual, running her slender fingers over his stiff shaft. He swayed and his knees wobbled as she teased and stroked his erection. Next was Caliadne who kissed and sucked his balls until he groaned and pleaded for more. Nomia took him far into her mouth and sucked him long and hard and then slowly slid her tongue over his tight and pink puckered anus. The youth bit his lower lip and thrust out his hips when Cleo caught his flailing member. After giving it a few find kisses, she returned him to Batia.
The youth was obviously aching with need; Ariadne noticed the small drop of dew that wet the tip of his cock. Her God would be pleased. Was that a faint glowing aura around the cold marble statue? She smiled as she noticed the white marble slowly flush into a pale version of olive fleshtone. The God was pleased with her offering; her heart raced. The transformation was beginning.
Batia assisted the youth onto the altar so that he lay on his back, plump shaft rising into the air. The Priestess stood over him, her feet straddling his hips. As she called out the ancient words, she splashed some of the crushed grapes onto the youth's chest, stomach and groin. He gasped as she lowered her cunt upon his waiting cock. Her desire cut free then, the snake called Desire uncoiled from the base of her spine and she was stung, bitten by her own lust. She thrust herself down onto his shaft, pumping faster and faster, laughing as grape juice red as blood ran between them, grapes crushing as their bodies slammed together. Ariadne's eyes flickered toward the marble statue, which was glowing and pulsing with new life, the cold stone melting into warm flesh, white hard hair curling softly brown, blind eyes now seeing. The God's cock was pulsing now too, swollen with hunger.
As the man-boy thrust his hips to meet hers, she felt him arch his back fully in the grip of his first orgasm inside a woman. Then she let loose her own climax, clenching her vagina around him and focusing her wave of ecstasy toward the transforming God. The air around the God sparked with magic and then he stood, stone no longer, but God-statue made immortal flesh.
"Dionysus! Dionysus!" chanted the Maenads. The Priestess disengaged herself from the boy. Batia cut his ankle binds and he wisely fled the temple, woozy from the wine they had given him but safe and sated, and with a story to tell that no one would believe.
Ariadne offered Dionysus a flagon of wine, which he swallowed in one draught. Dionysius was larger than the race of men; such perfection of form could only be divine. His uncut cock was magnificent, thick and smooth and the eyes of the Maenads were drawn to it. He moved with liquid fluidity and smelled like wine. In his leafy crown, the globes of the grapes were ripening, turning a rich purple.
It was his time now to complete his part of the ritual, he needed to reward the loyal Maenads who helped to bring him back to life. Dionysus took Batia first. She lay on her back and he pierced her with his God-sized cock. Such was his potency that it only took a few thrusts before her pink and dripping cunt could take no more, and she screamed her orgasm into the God's broad shoulder. He withdrew, leaving Batia hanging in ecstasy.
Cyrene bent over on her hands and knees, offering her lovely round ass to him. He fingered her pink anus, and then slid into her very slowly. She trembled and screamed as he filled her and then with tiny, measured thrusts brought her to her reward.
Lydia opened her mouth and took him in as far as she could. She fingered his balls and licked and sucked him while his hand stole down and entered her pussy, thumb sliding over her clit until she, too, was wracked with waves of pleasure and lay in blissful peace on the floor, her hand still clenched to her throbbing pussy.
The God then moved to Cleo and Nomia, who did everything together. Dionysus lay on his back. Cleo offered her pussy up to him by straddling his head. He licked and sucked her, sliding his divine tongue in her. Her eyes rolled toward the heavens and she began her long orgasm while Nomia rode his cock hard, her small hands on his perfect stomach. Finally, Cleo and Nomia reached for each other and collapsed to the temple floor holding each other tightly.
That left only poor Caliadne who had no stamina. Dionysus merely turned his gaze to her and she fell panting to the floor her pussy twitching and convulsing as she settled into the sleep of the divinely sated.
"Ariadne, my Priestess," the God said and drew her close. "Be my wife."
She blushed and turned her face into his shoulder so that he would not see her desire, witness her heart leaping into her eyes.
"You would refuse me?" He was astonished that she had not agreed. He picked her up and laid her on the altar. "I will wager with you," he said, his voice sounded like Pan's flutes playing on the wind. "If I pleasure you first, you will wed me, and we'll live happily here at Naxos. We will live the life of pleasure and wine."
She considered him, losing herself momentarily in the swirling depths of his eyes. "And I if I pleasure you first?" she asked.
"Then I will go back to stone until the next full moon rite, as it ever has been." His great, gentle, passionate hand stole to her breast and fondled the nipple lovingly.
"So be it," she said, hiding her tiny, smug smile in a kiss.
He kissed her hard with great passion, sucking the will out of her and leaving her limp and panting on the altar. His mouth tasted of red wine. He plucked up a grape and fed it to her, cherishing her, his eyes roaming over the curve and swell of her breasts, the lush flair of her hips and her rounded womanly thighs. Dionysus spread her legs wide and settled a bunch of grapes lightly on her pussy lips. He gently ate them from her one at a time, letting his lips and tongue linger, flicking her clit, nibbling her lips until her hips were moving wildly on the altar.
Ariadne saw his admiring gaze as her God looked at her flushed face, the swell of her chest. She knew he had finally realized that she was the only one who could meet him, resist his magnetism long enough for them to actually make love. She was the only one who could satisfy him.
She sat up and on the altar and took him in her mouth, sliding down his thick, purple head, lapping at him, sucking hard. Hard enough, deep enough to satisfy a God. Her hands played with his balls; her slender fingers slid along his anus, rubbing it teasing it. The God groaned with pleasure. "Ariadne," he sighed "Can't you see? You must wed me."
The High Priestess smiled around his divine cock. She knew, she had always known. She had been waiting only for him to know it too.
Dionysus pushed her back onto the altar and hovered over her, kissing her breasts and belly, pinching her nipples and her labial lips, pushing his shaft at the opening of her until she was wild beneath him. He slid into her slowly, but such was their passion that he could not wait. Soon he was pumping wildly into her, when suddenly she surrendered, and thrashed under him, crying out and gripping his shoulders.
And then he came in her, releasing a river of cum that tumbled her into a state of ecstasy that would have driven most mortals mad. She opened her eyes to see him smiling down at her, the stars reflected in his divine eyes. He had won the bet and had finally captured his bride.
On the day they wed, Dionysus gave Ariadne a golden crown covered with diamonds, rubies and emeralds as her wedding gift. They lived in blissful happiness, presiding together over the wine rites for many, many years. At the time of her death, Dionysus threw her crown up into the heavens where the gems became stars. Looking at the constellation Corona Borealis many see a crown, but the true form of the constellation is the embrace of Dionysus and Ariadne joined forever, hip and lip, a testament to their passion.
Copyright © 2001 Gabrielle. All rights reserved. Do not copy or post.
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