The Rites of Dionysus

My immediate assumption was that Alice had beaten the rest of us. Rather than giving her the satisfaction of pushing her to confirm it, I allowed myself to be distracted by her use of that nickname. "I thought we had already established that my love life doesn't live up to the name Westley. There's no Buttercup on my radar."

"Yeah, yeah, we know," said Alice. "You keep saying it's not easy being a teacher. We know all that. I hope you at least dated extensively before you graduated."

"Not so much," I admitted, allowing myself to be honest. "I mean, I did okay, but I never formed any significant relationships to speak of."

"Why not?" asked Chantelle.

"It's difficult to say," I replied. "I was always keen to find someone who, you know, shared my interests, to give us stuff to talk about. But whenever I found someone I liked, they were either unavailable or they friend-zoned me."

Olivia groaned. "Oh Liam, you're killing us here. Guys like you are so rare."

"What do you mean? Surely that's pretty standard."

"Not from where we stand," said Olivia with a slight edge of bitterness in her voice.

"You girls always seemed pretty popular around school," I said. "I'm sure you got asked out on plenty of dates."

"That's not the problem," said Alice. "What we get sick of is being asked out by guys who haven't even bothered to find out what our interests are. If we say yes and go on a few dates to get to know them, somehow they expect it to be our job to work out if we're compatible. It's such a huge waste of time."

"A lot of the time, we feel like we're just trophies that boys are trying to win," said Olivia, "or a level they want to beat in a video game. It doesn't matter to them whether or not we have anything in common. We're not expecting perfection, but it would be nice to spend time with a guy who had at least some interest in golf."

"Yeah, we don't mind if they aren't good players, as long as they don't sulk if they lose to us," added Alice with an evil grin. I started to suspect I had the worst score of the day.

During our conversation, the women had been frequently checking their phones and responding to notifications. It was another time when I had to supress the schoolteacher instinct to reprimand them. Given the topic of our conversation, it was only natural for me to ask if any of this phone activity was furthering their love lives.

"Sort of, but not really," said Alice, smiling shyly. "You won't like it."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Alice passed me her phone, which showed her Instagram. Earlier in the day I had posed for a photo with the three of them. Alice had asked me if she could post in, but I had declined. I was worried about the world seeing that I was spending the weekend with three such recent students. Alice had accepted my refusal, so she had instead posted a photo I had taken of the three of them. I immediately noticed a huge volume of comments, mostly from former and current students. What really surprised me was how many of them seemed to mention me. A few asked if it was me who took the photo, and asked if Alice was going to post any photos which included me. A few of the comments referred to the three of them as Westley's Girls or, even worse, Westley's Harem. There were questions about whether I was staying with them.

"Oh my God, how many people know I'm here?"

"Nobody knows. We kept it a secret," said Alice. "All those comments are pure conjecture. They're just saying all that for laughs."

"This all started back when we were coming here on school trips," explained Chantelle. "Everyone would tease us by asking what we were getting up to with you."

"It's weird that it's become such a big thing to be getting so many comments over a year later," I said.

"I have to admit that we stirred it up a bit back then," said Alice. "We dropped a few hints about stuff that wasn't true, vocalised a few fantasies, you know, just schoolgirl stuff. We didn't realise back then that it might get you into trouble. I guess we assumed that, with our mothers chaperoning us, nobody would actually believe that any of it was true."

"We promise we really haven't told anyone that you're staying with us this weekend," said Olivia.

I started to calm down, and as I did, I started to feel quite good about all the conjecture, even if it was silly. It was a boost to my ego. I was also feeling happy because of the wine bottle I had just finished, and I was keen to keep the evening going. "Shall I open the bottle of port?" I asked. The girls cheered unanimously in response.

We used the same wine glasses for the port, and we repeated the same ritual of each pouring a small amount into the fifth glass. It was Olivia's turn to pour out the offering. "All blessings to Dionysus," we chanted boisterously.

"So, tell me, why are we doing this?" I asked.

"I guess we spent a lot of time here," said Olivia, "with too much time on our hands and too much imagination. We started to imagine that the cottage was a temple of Dionysus, and that we were his priestesses, or Maenads. We started to imagine all sorts of rituals that he would want us to perform. Offering him some of our wine was just a small part of what we came up with."

There was something that struck me about Olivia's expression. I should probably have changed the subject onto something safer, but I didn't. "So, tell me more about Dionysus."

Olivia and Alice both grinned. Both had done history and classics at school, so this was their thing. "Well, obviously, he was the god of grape growing and winemaking," said Olivia, "although it was a lot more general than that. He was also the god of orchards, vegetation and stuff like that."

"He was also the god of parties and festivals and theatre," added Alice, "as well as being the god of insanity and religious ecstasy. In modern terms, he would be the god of getting high."

"He was also the god of fertility," said Olivia, "so he was the god of getting fucked up in more ways than one." All of them giggled at my shocked expression.

"You might have heard of Bacchanalia," said Alice. "You will remember that Bacchus is the Roman name for Dionysus. Bacchanalia, or the rites of Dionysus, were these festivals, traditionally led by women, where there was drinking and music. The music was usually described as something like trance music. There were various secret rituals such as initiations. They had a reputation for being, how shall I say it, disinhibited."

"Some of what we talked about during our time here was pretty harmless," said Olivia. "Hell, we even talker to our mums about it. We got them involved in offering wine to Dionysus. However, I must admit that some of what we fantasised about was very secret."

Again, they had mentioned fantasies, and again I couldn't resist pushed for more information.

"Can you give me any examples?"

Suddenly, Chantelle entered the conversation. "There was one ritual that we talked about a lot, but for obvious reasons we never got the chance to do it. It was connected to the competition amongst us for who did best out on the golf course."

Chantelle was normally the most reserved of the three, and the other two were looking at her closely. In return, Chantelle now looked at them in turn, seemingly looking for permission to share one of their secrets. Alice gave her a subtle nod of her head, and Olivia did the same a second later. It felt to me in that moment that a pact had been confirmed. From the look of determination of Chantelle's face, there seemed to be a lot riding on this. When she resumed talking, her voice had a strangely compelling tone.

"As we were saying, we used to talk about being the priestesses of Dionysus and performing the acts of worship that he required of us. Sometimes that involved various blessings we offered to him, like the wine. However, there were also ways in which we imagined him blessing us."

Chantelle stood up. Watched closely by three pairs of eyes, she walked over to the bull's skull and lifted it down from its hook on the wall. "In mythology, Dionysus was often represented by a bull, so it made sense that the bull's head represented him here in his temple. However, Dionysus would also take a human form. Thus, the wearer of the skull became the embodiment of Dionysus."

Chantelle turned the skull around, and I saw a length of elastic on the back of it. She placed the skull on my head and pulled the elastic under my chin to hold it in place.

"In our conversations, Dionysus took the form of several guys that we know, either in person or from the movies or television. However, I hope you understand when I say that, because we had just spent the day with you, and because we were spurred on by all the imaginings of the other girls at school, we most frequently imagined it was you wearing the bull's skull."

"So, what did Dionysus do?" I asked. The room had grown so tense that it was difficult to get the words out.

"He would take part in a ritual blessing of the winning player," said Chantelle. "It's the job of the two losing players to get him ready and to help him to supply the blessing. The scores play a big part in deciding what they have to do."

Chantelle turned to Olivia and held out her hand. "Score card please."

With a small amount of reluctance, Olivia dug it out of the small side pocket of her golf skirt. It was clear that they all knew the results already as there was no reaction from them when Olivia started to read from the card. "As we know, Alice was the winner. She gets to lie down and get ready to receive the blessing." Alice did just that, sliding off her chair and lying face up on the rug in front of the fireplace. Her head was towards me, and she tilted her head back to watch the rest of us.

I'm not sure when we had moved from listening to Chantelle to acting out her words, but Alice's move definitely increased the anticipation in the room.

"I came second," said Chantelle. There was no triumph in her voice as she glanced over at Olivia, an expression of compassion on her face. Olivia just nodded her acceptance of this fact.

"How many strokes did I beat you by?" asked Alice, her voice becoming more animated as she waited, lying on the floor.

"Five," answered Chantelle. "So, that's shoes, socks, and something else."

My breath caught as Chantelle started untying her shoelaces. The meaning of her words was easy enough to understand. Seeing her remove her shoes and socks was unremarkable enough, but it was the mention of 'something else' that stunned me. Was this really happening? Shouldn't I be stopping this?

I didn't stop it. I held Chantelle's gaze as she gave me a shy smile before pulling her polo shirt off over her head. I valiantly tried to maintain eye contact, but when she looked down, so did I. Her bra was silver in colour and sturdily built for sport with thick straps and full coverage over her breasts. The cups themselves, though, had no additional padding. I could definitely see the dark circles of her nipples as well as the obvious bumps that they produced.

"Alright! Go Chantelle!" cheered Alice. It was clear that Chantelle was following through on whatever plan the three of them had concocted. Chantelle responded by grabbing my hands and pulling me to my feet.

"Dionysus stands here, ready to pour out his blessings," she said, positioning me over Alice's head. Alice grinned up at me.

"Shouldn't I be holding the bottle or something?" I asked. Despite the fact that Chantelle's bra was now on display, my muddled brain was still thinking this would be something innocent, like having me hold the bottle over Alice and getting me to pour it into her mouth from a great height.

My question was ignored as Chantelle turned her attention to Olivia, the last girl sitting at the table. "Are you still okay with this?"

Olivia poured herself another glass of port from my bottle and then drained it before responding. "I will be," she said. "It's hard to believe that we're actually doing this after talking about it for so long, but I've kept the playlist on my phone just in case."

Olivia stood up and walked past Alice to a Bluetooth speaker on a shelf. As she started to pair her phone with the speaker, Chantelle turned her attention back on me. "The priestess who comes in last place gets to choose the music. Traditionally it's meant to be hypnotic music." Love Your Ways by Salmonella Dub started to pump out of the speaker, but then it was paused. Olivia apparently wanted to remove her shoes and socks first.

"What's going to happen?" I asked. The mystery was making me anxious.

"She's going to dance for you, Dionysus," said Chantelle. She was standing so close to me that her words were quietly spoken, very calm and composed. I found myself just being carried along.

The music started again, and Olivia started to sway along. Her movements were awkward to begin with as the rest of us stared at her, but she closed her eyes and focused on feeling the music. Her body started to undulate sexily as she slowly started to turn around, allowing me to watch her from all angles. My heart started to beat faster.

"Olivia has an important role to play," whispered Chantelle. "She will be the inspiration for the offering that Alice is going to receive. They will both be very disappointed if the offering doesn't occur."

I dragged my eyes away from Olivia's dance to look at Chantelle. I couldn't resist dropping my eyes down to check out her bra-covered breasts before looking in her eyes again. "And what is your role?"

"I'm here to facilitate the offering," said Chantelle mysteriously.

Although her answer was essentially meaningless, there was enough of an innuendo in the glint of her eyes that their plan started to become clear to me. A very naughty image flashed through my mind. I know I should have immediately found the resolve to resist it, but I didn't. There was something about the hypnotic sound of the music and the assurance in Chantelle's voice that seemed to convince me that this was somehow normal. So, it was a huge shock that also wasn't a surprise at all when Chantelle said, "Let's see what I'm going to be working with here."

My shorts were secured with a drawstring which was tied with a bow at the front. Chantelle simply reached out and tugged it loose, then she stepped behind me and hooked both hands onto the waistband of my shorts. In my trance-like state I didn't resist her, although I instinctively put both my hands down to cover myself. My shirt hung down low enough to essentially keep me covered from the front anyway, but Alice, who was lying on the floor with her head right underneath my genitals, undoubtedly got a good glimpse as she looked up at me with a cheeky grin.

Chantelle calmly continued to move their fantasy scenario forward. She stepped in front of me and started unbuttoning my shirt. She was seemingly unconcerned that she was standing with her feet on either side of Alice's head, allowing her friend a view right up her skirt. Chantelle started with the buttons at my collar, and as she worked her way down to where my arms came together to hide my genitals, she simply gripped my wrists and forced them apart, placing my hands by my side. Chantelle continued with my buttons, and she didn't make any obvious attempt to check me out until my shirt was hanging open.

We both looked down at my penis, poking out from its nest of ginger hair, while Alice looked up at it from below. She might not have seen much more than my balls from that angle. In some ways I was pleased that I wasn't erect. This was their fantasy -- I didn't want to be seen as expecting anything. But in other ways, it was unfortunate. I'm very much a grower rather than a shower, and my dick gets very small in its flaccid state. I don't know how much experience any of them had with real penises, but I was glad that there was nothing negative said. Chantelle quietly whispered "That's okay" as she stepped aside. Then, in a louder voice so that Olivia could hear, she said "It's going to be Olivia's job to make that stiffer."

Olivia was biting her bottom lip as she looked at me. The first song on her playlist had finished, so there was an awkward pause in her dancing as she waited for the next song to get going. I recognised Platetechectonics, another Salmonella Dub track. Once the rhythm was fully established, Olivia began dancing again. She had an undulating dancing style, with her breasts and hips moving forwards and backwards seductively. She seemed to be moving with more energy and less self-consciousness.

After maybe thirty more seconds of dancing, Olivia removed her shirt. Unlike Chantelle's rather matter-of-fact removal of her own shirt, Olivia's movements were as sexy as hell. Her bra seemed identical to Chantelle's in colour and fabric. Her breasts were slightly smaller than Chantelle's, but in my opinion, they seemed perfectly proportioned to her body. While the sight of more skin had its effect, but it was the situation as a whole that contributed to how I responded. Knowing that I was now witnessing a striptease, my penis started to grow erect. Olivia gave a shy smile as she observed my growth, although she seemed reluctant to look me in the eye, and I ignored all sense of propriety as I watched her move.

I was distracted moments later by Chantelle's actions, although it certainly wasn't anything to reduce my arousal. I felt her lifting up my right arm so that she could press herself against my side. I could feel her breasts pressing against my ribcage and the warmth of her body emanated against mine. I didn't know what to do with my arm, but Chantelle solved that for me by reaching back for it and pulling it around her waist, effectively letting me hold her against my body. "Just so you know," she said, "it is going to be up to us girls to decide what touching occurs. You can hold me like this, but nothing else unless I say so."

When Chantelle said that they would decide what touching occurred, she wasn't joking. Her next move was to pull a small tube of lube out of her pocket -- she must have anticipated this happening -- and she applied a thin line of lube to the top surface of my erection. I recognised the brand of lube, and I knew it wasn't a brand that was sold in supermarkets. She must have bought it online or from a sex shop. After putting the tube back in her pocket, she reached out and wrapped her hand around my shaft, spreading the lube around as she started to caress me. My penis quickly grew to its full length, resulting in a "That's more like it," from Chantelle. Her mouth was very close to my ear, and I heard her whisper "Let me know if you think you're going to cum too soon. I don't want you to miss out on the full show."

"What am I going to see?" I asked. My voice was louder than Chantelle's, and I know that Olivia heard me. Chantelle answered me just as loudly.

"She only did two shots worse than me, so you won't see everything."

Chantelle had lost to Alice by five strokes, and had removed her shoes, socks and shirt as a result. If Olivia was a further two strokes back, I guess that meant her skirt and something more. Wow!

Olivia was continuing to dance, moving more around the room, sometimes stepping over Alice as she lay on the floor. At one point she moved behinds me, and I felt a slap on my ass. I moved to turn around, but Chantelle held me in place, even putting her free hand to my head to prevent me turning it. When Olivia re-emerged into my field of view, she was no longer wearing her skirt. What's more, she was wearing a thong which matched her bra, with the same semi-transparent material through which I could just make out her dark triangle of pubic hair. I couldn't help but groan softly, particularly when Chantelle, who had so far been lightly stroking me, tightened her grip is she ran her hand over my crown and down the length of my shaft. It felt very much like entering a tight but welcoming hole.