Part One:  New York Nights

Rain spattered down on the corpse, dripping in red rivulets to the filthy concrete of the alley. A pair of beat cops stood by the alley’s entrance, chatting about Mars-Ace Six Superbowl as CSU hurried to set up a screen over the body. Arkady Bonneville felt the rain dripping down his collar as he stood by the corpse. The surgically smooth slash across its throat seemed to smile up at him. Arkady could see the gleam of vertebrae from the depths of the cut, the white of the bone reflecting the harsh white halon lights CSU had set up. He shook his head, any deeper and the senator’s head could have been used as a soccer ball. Across the alley, his partner, Dulcinea Curtis, picked up a medallion from the corpse in her gloved hand. She brushed back a strand of her chestnut hair and sniffed.

“Interesting, looks like bone,” she said, holding up the quarter sized object. She flipped it over and squinted. “Looks like a biohazard symbol,” she said.

Arkady walked over to her, feeling his knees ache. No matter what the docs said to the contrary, he swore his cybernetic legs and knee joints acted up whenever it rained. He held up the medallion to his eye and closed his other as his vision zoomed in. The medallion did appear to be bone with traces of blood soaked into the minute pores in it. Ice blue eyes did a basic scan and gave a twenty-percent chance that the bone was human.

“It does look like biohazard,” he said. “Strange, it looks like it’s been stylized.”

Dulcinea stood beside him and nodded. “Like its made out of bone or skulls.”

Arkady waved over a CSU tech and handed the medallion to her. “This goes on top of the list, full work up,” he said. The tech nodded and bagged it, entering the data into her padcomp.

“A dead senator in the middle of New York. We’re going to be working overtime on this one,” Arkady said, tilting his head back and feeling the chill rain spatter on his face. The grimy graffiti stained walls of the apartment buildings reached up to block out the sky, leaving only a sliver of grey clouds illuminated by the lights of the New York skyline. He ran a hand through his short black hair and sighed, watching a transport shuttle scream overhead as it headed for the new International Space Station. In the distance he could hear police and news choppers circling over a drug bust. Another New York day in September, Anno Domini 2109.
 
 

“Suspects?” Director Ngoko asked, his chair half-swivled away from Arkady, Dulcinea, and the small group of other agents assigned to the senator’s murder. The Director of the Confederate Peacekeeping Organization was staring out the window at the mixed blue and greens of the Earth five hundred miles below.

“We’re checking his personal contacts right now, so far we have one possible,” Wilkins said, one hand tugging at his tie unconsciously. This was Wilkins’ first major case and he wasn’t handling the pressure as well as he could. “Dionysus Livey. He’s the owner of a chain of night clubs spread out over Earth and Mars. Senator Arleigh has
been funneling a small but steady stream of money into his accounts for the last year.”

Director Ngoko ran a hand over his close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. “Blackmail?”

Wilkins coughed nervously. “We haven’t found any evidence of that. We interviewed Senator Arleigh’s wife and family, they don’t know anything. Once we track down his personal secretary, we’ll ask him-”

“You can’t find his secretary?”

“Umm, no, sir.”

“Why not?”

“He was on vacation, we’ve been trying to find him, but he’s gone hiking in the Alaskan wastes. We’ve got the Keyholes looking for him along with the park rangers.”
The comm link beeped on the right side of the Director’s desk. The dark-skinned man hit the answer key and spoke into the microphone, “Yes?”

“Director Ngoko?” the voice of his secretary could be heard, “They’ve spotted Senator Arleigh’s secretary with the Keyholes.”

“Good, Laskin, Curtis, take a shuttle and pick him up personally. I don’t want any accidents happening.”

The two agents stood quickly and left the room, leaving Wilkins to finish his briefing. They hurried through the wide halls of CPO headquarters towards the shuttle hangars. The space station was still undergoing last minute repairs and cosmetic touch-ups prior to the anniversary ceremonies. Arkady ducked around a painting crew and sidestepped a speeding messenger robot.

“You going to the anniversary?” he asked Dulcinea as they stepped aboard a lift to the hangars.

“Can’t say I want to, seems like they use the same speeches every time. We’re probably going to be busy with this case anyway,” she answered. “Why? Are you going?” she asked as they stepped out of the lift and walked towards the airlock to the hangars.

Arkady shrugged and put his palm on the reader while bending to let the optical scanner check his iris and retina pattern, ID chip, and DNA. The airlock hissed open and the pair continued down the sterile metal corridor to the other end. The indicator light glowed green and the door opened, revealing the wide space of the hangars.

Several shuttles were readying for departure, their drives glowing a faint blue as they taxied into position in front of the launch tubes. Within a few minutes, Arkady and Dulcinea had joined the line of shuttles.

From her seat in the pilot’s chair, Dulcinea ran the last few items on the preflight checklist. “Coolant vent, check,” she muttered to herself, “there, all finished.” Less than ten minutes later the shuttle had entered the launch tube. Within seconds they were flung away from the station by the magnetic launcher and were on a direct course for northwestern Alaska.
 
 

The shuttle punched through the low cloud deck and emerged into a vicious snowstorm. Dulcinea cursed and slowed the shuttle as a lightning bolt slammed off the shields. Flurries of snow and fist-sized hail stones bounced and slid off the static screen protecting the windshield.

“Where’d this storm come from?” Dulcinea mumbled as she circled downward, following the last coordinates given by the Keyhole spy satellite.

“Came out of nowhere just after the Keyhole spotted the secretary,” Arkady said, reading from a data screen. “Temperature’s dropping fast, we’d better find the secretary soon otherwise he’s going to be an icicle. Abnormally high level of dimensional shifting present, might be overflow from the wastelands.”

Dulcinea swore and switched the communications channel over to the Park Service frequency. “Park Control, this is Shuttle
Charlie-Papa-October-Delta-niner-four-oh-four-three.”

“Four-oh-four-three, roger that, this is Park Control, what’s up?” a woman’s voice said over the comm channel.

“Park Control, we’re over the last known coordinates for Senator Arleigh’s secretary, request that you have medical staff on standby. The temp’s down to twenty below and we still haven’t found the secretary.”

“Four-oh-four-three, roger that, we’ll be on alert for your arrival.”

Dulcinea thanked the woman and signed off. “You picking up anything on your scanners?” she asked Arkady.

“Not-, got him! One klick ahead, looks like he’s still moving.” Arkady shook his head and pointed to the suits they wore. “Not very good for this weather, even if it is polyfunctional fiber.”

Dulcinea shrugged and pitched the shuttle over into a steep dive, activating its searchlights as she skimmed a hundred feet over the ground. “I’m not the one who’s going to be going out in that. Just set the fiber to cold weather, you should be fine for as long as you need to be out there.” She grunted as she spotted the struggling form of the secretary and his companions. They looked up in surprise as she set the shuttle beside them, blocking the worst of the wind, their heavy parkas and pants making them look like overstuffed sausages.

Arkady was already up and opening the airlock. Bitter cold registering thirty-three below zero on his bio-comp’s sensors sucked the breath from his lungs. He called to the struggling hikers, the voicebox implanted in his throat amplifying his voice over the roar of the wind. One by one, he dragged them into the shuttle.

“Thank you, sir,” a high-pitched voice rasped. “I’m a secretary to a very powerful senator, I’ll be sure that he rewards you properly.” The voices owner removed the
goggles from his face and pushed back his hood. Arkady cursed inwardly at the sight, the senator’s secretary was a grey.

Huge eyes black as a singularity stared out from a triangular face with two tiny holes for nostrils and a slit for a mouth, both covered by a transparent heated breathing
mask. A spindly arm and four fingered hand reached up and grasped Arkady’s arm. “I’m sorry to impose, but we must retrieve my pack, it contains items of great personal value to me.”

Arkady shook his head vehemently, already reaching for the airlock’s controls. “Forget them, no one’s going out in this storm,” he said. He shouted in surprise as the grey darted past him and back into the blinding wall of the snowstorm. “Dulcinea,” he said into his voicebox, “the secretary went back out to get something, I’m going after him.”

“Fine, but hurry up! The storms getting worse,” he heard in his ear as he pulled his coat around him and jumped out of the airlock into the storm. He was immediately blinded by the snow, the shape of the shuttle a foot behind him already obscured, the light of the airlock a warm glow. His eyes switched to night vision, thermal vision, then back to normal. The snow was blocking sight of anything on the visual spectrum and the thermal just registered a swathe of cold. Arkady grunted as he plowed through the snow, following the faint impressions left by the grey as he had dug through the snowbanks.

He found the grey tugging a large case that was half buried in the snow. Arkady grabbed the case and pulled it free, his other arm hoisting the secretary under his arm as he turned and sought the light of the airlock.

“Arkady!” Dulcinea’s voice shouted over the commlink, “Hurry up, Cheyenne Mountain is registering major dimensional shifting in our area and I’m picking up something big headed our way on the scopes!”

Arkady could feel the ground shaking through his boots and began to move faster, his bio-comp feeding epinephrine into his system as he began to run through the snow. The wind seemed to pass through his coat and shirt to pierce the core of his soul. The temperature began to drop precipitously with every step he took. His breath began to freeze on his lips, creating an icy beard as he neared the shuttle. Arkady threw the secretary into the airlock and clambered in behind him, feeling something huge behind him as he hit the panel to close the outer door of the airlock.

“We’re in!” he shouted, rubbing his mouth and breaking off a shower of icicles from his lips as the shuttle began to lift off. He stood, shaking melting snow from his coat and slacks, and turned to look at the secretary.

The grey was fumbling with the catches on the case that he had risked his life to retrieve, his hands shaking from the cold. Arkady reached over to help him when the shuttle rocked.

“Something’s got a hold on us!” Dulcinea shouted from the cockpit.

Arkady pulled his pistol from his shoulder holster and motioned for the rescued hikers to leave the airlock. When the airlock was empty but for him, he opened the outer airlock. Snow blew in, momentarily obscuring his vision. Arkady squinted and looked out and into a face. It was only barely humanoid, with slack, drooping yellowed skin and eyes like chips of dirty ice. A filthy mat of hair covered the top of its head. One monstrous hand had a hold on the middle of the shuttle, the other one was poised to protect the thing’s face from the engine exhaust.

The thing blinked slowly at Arkady and opened its jaggedly toothed mouth. A blizzard of ice spewed forth, coating the agent in a blanket of ice. Warnings flashed in the corner of his vision as his bio-comp registered hundred degree below temperatures. Feeling the skin on his face going numb, Arkady raised his pistol and fired into the face. There was a sharp crack and blue flash as the particle beam sliced through the air to explode on the creature’s face. Arkady could hear it roar as it let go of the shuttle to protect its face. He aimed for its eyes, emptying his pistol’s magazine into the thing.

Arkady staggered as the shuttle rose free of the thing’s grasp, clawing for altitude. He spared a glance out of the airlock, watching as the thing disappeared in the blizzard before he sealed the hatch. He shook his head, not quite believing what he had seen, although he had seen far more horrific things in his life.
 
 

The med-tech at the Park Control Center clucked her tongue disapprovingly as she scraped the frozen skin from Arkady’s face.

“I’ll put a patch on it, you’re lucky that your skull’s been reconstructed,” she said as she wiped some bits of skin and dried blood from the gleaming durasteel that formed his skull. “The coloring is going to be off for a couple of days until you get some sun exposure.” She leaned back to study him. “Otherwise, your cybernetics held up perfectly.”

“Military spec,” Arkady said as he slid off the examination table, “Theoretically they could take deep space conditions for a half hour or so.”

“I suppose a wasteland storm isn’t much to you then,” the med-tech said.

“How’s the grey?”

“Frostbite for him and the rest of the hikers. A half hour of nanopool therapy and they’ll be fine. Good thing you got them out in time. Is he the secretary of that senator who got killed?”

Arkady nodded. “I didn’t know he was a grey,” he said as he pulled on his coat.

“Don’t you follow the news?”

“Apparently not.”
 
 

“What did the secretary know?” Director Ngoko asked, his hands resting on the arms of his chair.

“The senator was involved with some sort of new cult,” Dulcinea said, calling up the holo-display set in the ceiling. “This,” she said, pointing to the holo of the medallion recovered from the senator’s body, “is their symbol. It’s the terran standard symbol for biohazard made out of the skulls of goats their horns.”

“Any meaning particular to the cult?”

“It’s a reference to their ‘god’,” Dulcinea continued calling up a new projection. A yellowed and cracking page made of vellum rotated slowly above the Director’s desk.
“Altaln wasn’t too helpful with the specific mythology of the cult. Apparently the cult didn’t want him included in any of their ceremonies. Something about how he wasn’t one of the ‘chosen’.”

“The god’s name is ‘Shub-Niggurath’, at least according to the book Altaln stole from Senator Arleigh,” Wilkins said pointing to the holo. He nervously motioned for Dulcinea to go on with her briefing.

“More of a goddess, really,” Dulcinea said, “although from the images we’ve found in the Planetary Archives Shub-Niggurath is more of hermaphrodite, having traits from both genders.” She displayed the next holo.

“Ugly thing, whatever it is,” the Director said. “Looks like an Eseran.”

“Yes, the tentacles and certain plant like characteristics evoke a similarity, but we’ve found no real connection.”

“The worshipers of this god were believed to have been peripherally involved with the ‘07 earthquake in Costa Nuit city in central California,” Arkady said. “We’ve found some more references to worshipers of the god in FBI and OSS files. The cults generally have no connection with each other, other than the worship of Shub-Niggurath.”

“Is Dionysus Livey connected to the cult?” the Director asked.

“Yes,” Dulcinea answered. “He’s the leader or head priest of the cult that attracted Senator Arleigh. It’s based out of his New York club.”

“Did the cult kill the senator?”

“It seems more and more likely, the more we dig up on other previous incarnations of the cult and from what Altaln has told us.” Dulcinea called up a close-up holo of the cut across Senator Arleigh’s neck. “Altaln told us about animal sacrifices made by the cult to Shub-Niggurath, exactly the same cut as this one. Livey is supposed to be very good with a knife.”

“That’s enough for me, get a search warrant for the club.”

Wilkins coughed. “Excuse me, sir-”

“Yes?”

“If we go in and search the club, Dionysus will know we’re on to him. The cult has displayed suicidal and apocalyptic tendencies, he might try something desperate.”

“So you’re suggesting that we infiltrate the cult and get enough evidence for an arrest warrant before we move openly?”

“Yes, sir.”

Director Ngoko leaned back in his chair and looked at them over steepled fingers. He smiled tightly. “Very well, Wilkins. I’ll assign a surveillance team to you and make sure that Infiltration sends over their best.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The Director nodded and leaned forward. “Don’t screw up this case, we need to send a message. No one, no matter how many clubs they own or what cult they lead gets away with murder. No one.”
 
 

The Fates nightclub was one of the more popular clubs in New York. The club made up the first four floors of a ten-story building on the waterfront. Arkady and Dulcinea watched the monitors with the feed from the pin cameras scattered around the club.

“That’s him,” the head of the surveillance team, Tony, said. He tapped the center screen. “Dionysus Livey.”

Dionysus was a very handsome man about six foot six in height with a brown hair stylishly streaked blue and green. He wore a charcoal three piece suit as he circulated among the patrons of the club, occasionally stopping to flirt with particularly good looking women.

“How do you know he’s going to recruit tonight?” Dulcinea asked.

“We’ve been watching him a month, every Friday he chooses a woman to join him in the penthouse arboretum. We’ve just got visual surveillance right now, but from what we’ve seen, they are definitely cult activities.” Tony took a sip from his coffee cup. “If the woman’s satisfactory for the cult, which basically means she does anything sexually and does it well, she shows up at the next cult meeting.”

“Who’s going in there?” Arkady asked.

“Local cop from their vice unit. Evelyn Duchamps. She’s tougher than any ten marines I’ve ever seen and looks like a frickin’ schoolgirl.”

“She’s going to do-?” Dulcinea let the question trail off.

“Yeah, all she needs to do is get a sample from the knife that Livey uses to sacrifice cows. If the metal composition matches, we’ve got an arrest warrant.”

“Great, so where is she?” Arkady asked.

“Damned if I know.” At that moment his cell phone rang. He tapped the pen sized phone’s mike out and held it up to his ear. “Hello?” he said.

Dulcinea and Arkady listened as he greeted the other person. It’s her, he mouthed. “Yeah, yeah. You’re caught in traffic? The tunnel? Christ, well-. No, I-. Goddammit, he’s going to be heading on vacation next week, it’ll be a month before he gets back,” they heard him say. He let the phone drop and turned to them. “There’s been an accident in the Lincoln, it’s blocking the entire tunnel and its gonna be at least another hour before she gets here.”

Arkady cursed and hit his thigh. He stood and began to pace around the room. The rest of the surveillance team wandered in from the bedroom of the apartment they were using as base where they had been setting up the receivers for Evelyn’s wire.

“How long before he chooses someone?” Dulcinea asked.

“Not long, he’s always got someone by eleven and its just after ten,” Tony said. He put the phone back to his ear. “No, we’re still talking.” He lowered it. “She wants to know what we’re doing.”

“I’ll do it,” Dulcinea said.

“What?” Arkady said incredulously. “You?”

“Yes, me. What, you think I can’t get him to take me upstairs?”

“Well, no. It’s just-”

“Listen, I’m about Evelyn’s size and we have the wired clothes here. So I’ll get changed and get over there.”

Arkady opened his mouth to say something and thought better of it. He shrugged and said, “Fine, let’s get this show on the road.”
 
 

Dulcinea shivered as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. The wind picked up bits of litter scattered around the busy street and kicked it around, plastering a poster to Dulcinea’s legs. As she bent over to remove the poster she felt another gust of wind lifting the hem of her skirt. She smirked at the crude remarks a passing woman made and straightened up. Time for Aldonza to come out and play, she thought wryly.

She was wearing a short black cocktail dress that came down to her upper thighs. She didn’t have a bra on and was distinctly aware of how her nipples were easily visible through the thin fabric of her dress. She walked down the sidewalk towards the club and paused at the entrance.

“There’s a line around the block,” she whispered to the wire hidden in her dress. “How am I supposed to get in?”

“For Christ’s sake, just use your tits,” Tony answered.

Dulcinea shifted and smiled, feeling the fabric of her stockings against her legs. She sighed and began to walk towards the entrance, her hips swaying. “So, you gonna let me in?” she asked the bouncer at the door.

The bouncer looked down at the display of cleavage and grinned. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. “There’s an entrance fee,” he said.
Dulcinea smiled and pressed her breasts against his chest. She ran her hand down his side and then over to the bulge in his jeans. She squeezed it gently and gasped in mock surprise. “Really? Couldn’t you let me in? Then, maybe later, I’ll let you...in,” she said with a slow wink.

The bouncer’s smile widened as he pushed the door open for Dulcinea, his eyes following her swaying rear end. Just as she was about to enter the club, she flipped her skirt up, giving him a brief and tantalizing glimpse of black lace panties and garters. Dulcinea winked over her shoulder and laughed at the bouncer’s expression of naked lust.
 
 

“Whew, where’d she learn to act like that? She seemed so clean cut before she got out of here,” Tony said after following Dulcinea down the street and into the club with his multi-view glasses.

“She’s had a checkered past,” Arkady said simply turning to watch the feeds from the cameras hidden on Dulcinea’s dress. Latest Organization tech, the cameras were easily hidden in the seams of the dress along with several high-quality microphones. Arkady watched as Dulcinea moved through the main dance floor, gliding among the dancers and moving in a roundabout way towards Dionysus. “Ah, she see’s him. Here we go.”
 
 

Dulcinea brushed her breasts against Dionysus’ upper arm as she moved by him. She turned and looked into his eyes, a smile playing over her face as she looked him up and down. He smiled back, pushing the blond on his arm away.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” he said, his eyes going from her shapely legs to the swell of her breasts. “I’m Dionysus, I own this club.”

“Really? Well, Dionysus, I’m Aldonza,” Dulcinea said, “Care to dance?”

“I’d love to,” he answered, placing his arm around her waist and resting his hand on her ass. Dulcinea smiled and leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder.
 
 

Dionysus was delighted to have the woman, Aldonza. He smiled with the anticipation of enjoying her tonight, she had a charm quite above most of the clientele of the club. They stepped out onto the dance floor, his hands going to her waist while hers draped over his shoulders. A retro-funk-synth-ska-disco number was playing, the wailing beats accompanied by flashing holos.

Dionysus found that he couldn’t take his eyes off the alluring woman in front of him, her body swayed with all the grace of an acrobat or ballet dancer. Her dark brown eyes flashed with mischief as she pressed herself against him, one leg up and over his hip.  Yes, he thought, she would be the one for tonight.
 
 

“What the hell is she doing?” Tony said, “I can’t see anything.”

“I think that’s some guys shirt,” another agent said, pointing at the out of focus blur that filled the cameras lens.

“Hold on, now its a chin. Where’d you put the camera?”

“Right in the, uh, the-” the agent pointed to the center of his chest.

“Christ, so where’s his face?”

There was a silence as the agents pondered.
 
 

Dulcinea ran her hand through Dionysus’ hair as he pressed his face into her cleavage, his lips kissing her flesh. They writhed together across the dance floor, other couples parting before them as the music’s tempo increased. She could feel her heart pounding with excitement, she hadn’t done this since she was a teenager. She gasped as Dionysus ran his hand up and under her skirt, his fingers moving her panties aside as he sought her pussy.

Dulcinea moaned and threw her head back, her hips still swaying from side to side in time to the music, as she felt his fingers enter her moist opening. Dionysus raised his head and kissed her, one hand penetrating her while the other held her close to him by the small of her back. Grinning wickedly, he brought his damp fingers out of her dress and pressed them against her lips. Dulcinea gave lascivious smile and sucked them into her mouth, her tongue running over and between them as he pumped his fingers in and out of her mouth.

Leaning closer to her, he whispered, “Let’s go.”
 
 

Arkady could see Dulcinea’s hand making a thumb’s up sign as she followed Dionysus into an elevator. The camera caught a glimpse of him pressing the button for the top floor.

“Let me see the surveillance on the arboretum,” Arkady said. Tony called up the cameras that were trained on the glass domed arboretum on the top of Dionysus’ building.
“Do you have the laser mike set up yet?”

Tony yelled into the bedroom and turned back to Arkady. “Yeah, they just finished calibrating the computer. It was a real bitch, what with all those trees and the shape of the dome. But the computer should be able to use the laser to read the vibrations that any sound causes in the glass and translate it into something we can hear.”
 
 

“Nice place,” Dulcinea said as she and Dionysus stepped out of the elevator and into the arboretum. The rich smell of earth and greenery filled her nose, something very uncommon in the city. They crunched along a gravel path towards the center of the arboretum and passed under a screen of closely growing trees into a wide, open area.

The clearing was dominated by a large altar formed from three rough slabs of stone, two squat stones supporting the third. Soft grass grew across the clearing, providing a delightful cushion for Dulcinea’s stockinged feet as she pulled off her high heels. As they approached the altar, Dulcinea saw chains and manacles set into both ends along with what looked suspiciously like blood gutters.

“Are you going to put me on that?” she asked teasingly, turning to face Dionysus.

“Would you like me to?” he asked back.

Dulcinea dropped her shoes and raised her hands in mock terror. “Oh no, please don’t tie me up. You could do anything to me!” she said as she leaned back against the altar.
 
 

“I feel like we shouldn’t be watching this,” Tony said quietly to the other agents gathered around the monitors. No one else said anything.
 
 

“Yes, I could do anything to you,” Dionysus said in a deep voice. “Are you afraid?” He grinned widely, his eyes glinting with humor and lust.

Dulcinea shrieked in mock terror and hopped onto the altar, her dress riding up her thighs and her panties clearly visible. She moaned in pleasure as Dionysus stepped between her legs and kissed her, his hands pushing her dress up around her waist. She pulled his jacket off and threw it to the grass as he hooked his fingers under the band of her panties and tore them off. Dulcinea gasped as he pushed her back onto the stone, his hands spreading her thighs wide as she pulled her dress off over her head.
Dionysus admired her body, running his hands up her stockinged legs and over her garter belt to her smooth stomach. He let his fingers trail over her ribs, watching as she shivered in pleasure and moaned. Stopping for a moment, he opened his pants and pulled out his swollen cock, placing it at the entrance to her pussy. He stared into her eyes and thrust himself into her, watching as she closed her eyes and arched her back, her breasts standing out on her chest as he grabbed her thighs and pulled her onto him.

Dulcinea cried out in pleasure as his cock filled her. It was huge, larger than any she had ever taken before. She moaned again as he leaned over her, his hands squeezing and pawing at her breasts, his fingers rolling her stiff nipples. He used her breasts to pull her down onto his cock, driving deep into her with each stroke. Dulcinea began to scream in pleasure as he pounded into her, feeling the fire of orgasm sweeping over her already.

“Yes!” she screamed, panting loudly. Dulcinea groaned as he pulled all the way out of her and flipped her over onto her stomach. She looked over her shoulder at him, watching his cock slick with her juices as he moved her around the altar to the end and clamped the manacles over her wrists. Dulcinea bit her lower lip in anticipation as Dionysus stepped behind her and spread her cheeks apart with his hands.

She cried out in shock and pleasure as he suddenly rammed his cock into her ass, lifting her onto her tiptoes as he slowly forced his cock into her. Dulcinea clutched at the chains securing her wrists to the altar as his cock entered her ass. She grunted as he moved his hands to her waist and pulled her back while simultaneously pushing deeper into her. They both gasped explosively as he pushed the last bit of his cock into her. The chestnut haired woman, rested her forehead on the cool surface of the altar, her heart racing as her ass slowly adjusted to Dionysus’ massive cock. She moaned and bit her lip hard as he slowly pulled out of her, only to slam himself back in. She began to whimper at the mixed pleasure and pain as he fucked her, each thrust knocking the breath from her lungs. Dulcinea turned her head and looked back at him as he moved one hand to her clit, rubbing her dexterously with each of his thrusts. He smiled at her as she came again, the tightening of her ass as she came setting him off too. Dionysus gave one last hard thrust, nearly lifting Dulcinea off her feet, and shot his seed into her.

Dulcinea heard him grunt as he pulled himself out of her and picked up his jacket. She watched in a daze as he unlocked the manacles with a large key and let her crumple to the grass. She dazedly took her dress as he proffered it, pulling it over her head and standing on wobbly legs.
“Be here in two days at midnight,” he said as he led her to the elevator. “Then you’ll see what we really use the altar for.”

“Sure, uh, I’ll be here,” she answered.

“Good, you have great potential. The Dark Mother may see fit to make you one of us, and along with that comes...incredible pleasure.”