And with a sharp nod, he takes my hand once more and pulls me through the thick leaves and into Diyo’s domain.
Vines reach for me with every step, dragging along any inch of exposed skin they can find.
But Jack ignores the caresses, and so do I.
When we break out of the jungle, the spectacle in front of me draws me up short. Jack waits as I take it all in.
A long table piled with food and fountains of wine. Dozens more people in goat masks, but they don’t wear the leafy green excuse for clothing I’ve seen before.
They lie in puddles of wine some sleeping, some connected in contortionist poses as they fuck at odd angles.
Vice far outweighs virtue here.
Jack draws me near as a trio scurries past and he presses a kiss behind my ear before he says, “Be careful of the leprechaun. He and Diyo are friends… if one can call any association with that one friendly.”
I follow his gaze to a man whose skin is green and whose hair sprouts from his head in wild red tufts. Like fire or flower grows there.
The leprechaun twists his fingers, watching a man and a woman suspended in the air in front of him.
I boggle when I realise what’s happening.
The pair hang from the vines, their faces flushed and drawn with pure extacy, eyes closed….
Vines probe them everywhere.
A slender green line trails around her neck up her chin and pulses between her lips. Tiny tendrils twist around her nipples and more of the same claw down her stomach to hold her open for the coiled bunch of vines that stretch her weeping pussy.
The man beside her is similarly strung, vines following similar lines, but only two coil together to ender between cheeks spread wide by those tendrils.
Another wraps around his cock, the only part of it I can see now is the deep purple head.
If he doesn’t come soon, I’d imagine—
A white line of come bursts from him as he cries out around the vine filling his mouth.
A dozen other goat-masked devotees hurry forward, some to catch his release, others to coax the vines from him, and one eager to take his place.
“Would you like to try it?” The voice is sultry against my skin, and I move to Jack because there’s something seductive in the smell of their breath.
As if they’re perfumed with desire.
“Maybe next time.” I say with a smile I hope seems inviting as I turn to the god—the satyr—beside me.
“Diyo.” Jack says from above me.
“Rumour had it you’d found yourself a darling little treat at last, but I see they were wrong. You don’t plan to play… you plan to keep.” Their brows fly high and their lips curve in a near-to comical smile. “How amusing!”
Diyo leans close enough their beard and breasts brush my skin.
Jack’s hand tightens on my waist. “And we all know that you love to be amused.”
“What point is there to existence if it is not filled with pleasure of every kind?” They do a little skipping hop backward down the stone steps spotted with moss, hooved feet clopping. “Come, join us for our repast!”
Time might work differently here, but I don’t want to waste any of it. “We need your help.”
They look at me over their shoulder. “Of course you do. There’s no other reason our reclusive Eebie would join my party. But you must pay my prices first! And if you want me to hear your request, you will join me.”
They glance at the heavily laden table. “You will, of course, take the place of honour, my lady.”