16 comments/ 100595 views/ 61 favorites Pasiphae By: Sabledrake Author's Note: this is a look at the ancient Greek tale of how the wife of King Minos was struck by the gods with a lust for a magnificent mythical creature in the form of a white bull. "What a creature," Minos said, rubbing his hands together. His eyes were alight like a child's, in a way I have come to know very well. "What a marvelous, magnificent creature! Do you not agree, my wife?" "It is as you say, my king and husband," I replied, suddenly feeling myself to be on precarious ground. That look in his eyes. That bright, merry look. "The gods," I added, "will be greatly pleased." At once, Minos' expression changed. His lower lip stuck out, and his nose crinkled, and his eyes went narrow. His was the anger of a petulant boy denied some treat, and it came to me that had he ever looked so in the presence of his rivals or advisors, he would have long since lost his throne. "It is my bull," he said. "It came to me." I nodded, knowing that I had gone too far, displeased him. It would not be for me, Pasiphae, to remind the king of Crete of the promise he had made. Minos needed no reminding. He knew. He remembered full well how he had raised his arms to the sea from which the white bull had arisen, and pledged that it would be sacrificed in Poseidon's honor. "Mine," he repeated. "Yes, my king and husband," I said, and bowed my head. The other ladies often told me how fortunate I was. "Oh, Pasiphae," they would cry, "how fortunate you are that Minos keeps only to you, his wife! He never puts you aside in favor of concubines, catamites, mistresses!" And they would go on to bemoan the infidelities of their own husbands, each wringing her hands in the ever-present fear that she might be supplanted, replaced by a younger, more vital, lovelier woman. If only they knew, I thought, and stole a glance at Minos. If only they knew what it is to be queen of Crete, married to this man. I should rather he kept a horde of concubines, if only he had the lusts to need them. His faithfulness was due in part to his disinterest. Many a hunger, many an appetite throbbed in Minos. He craved treasure and power the way a starved man might crave bread and meat. He craved accolade, respect, adoration. He was ever surrounded with toadying underlings, and neighboring kings held for Minos a respectful fear. For the pleasures of the bedroom, alas for me, my husband had only indifference. Not a dozen times in a year would he bother to rouse himself to seek my bed. When he did, the occasion was always over quite swiftly, if indeed it began at all. More often than not, whatever excitement had lured him hither would fade before he had managed to enter me. I knew that I was not to fault for this. In my girlhood, I had been renowned for my beauty, and the passing years had only granted me a mature woman's glow. My breasts, unsuckled by any child – for neither had Minos ever quickened a babe within my womb – stood high and proud. My stomach was unlined, my thighs smooth, my skin honeyed cream. I had been told by other suitors that my mouth was as inviting as the portal to Aphrodite's own chamber. My eyes, the light green-blue of the summer sea, were lavishly fringed in dark lashes. My hair was a source of pride, as yet untouched by grey. When unbound, it fell to my hips in a shimmer of gold. No, it was through no deficit in his wife that Minos rarely felt a man's urge. He did not care for it, that was all. He was also, perhaps, loathe to let it be known by any other that for all his riches and stature, for all the armies at his command, King Minos was barely more than a boy below the waist. It was a pitiable thing, his phallus, small and usually soft, shrunken as a fig, curled as a shrimp. Where there should have been a virile and hairy sac to contain his testes was a pallid little pouch that might have held a pair of olives. Though he was vain of his thick hair, full beard, and manly chest, the thatch at his groin was sparse and wispy. Such had I first beheld on our wedding night. I had been left speechless, which was perhaps for the best because I could not imagine what words, in that moment of astonishment, might have come from my lips. The contrast of him – wide shoulders, deep chest, muscular legs, miniscule manhood – was not at all what I had expected when our wrists were bound by a cord at the altar of Hera. Minos had thought his bride a virgin, entirely untutored in the ways of men, utterly ignorant of what a man's body should look like. He had believed my only prior education had been in the viewing of painted urns and marble statuary. I suppose that I was, therefore, not what he expected either. But I never let on. I knew that if he ever suspected me of previous knowledge, he would turn me out at once. Or, perhaps, as I had seen his shame, he might feel compelled to be sure that I never spoke of it. That would not do, not at all. It could not be known beyond the walls of the king's private bedroom that powerful Minos was in any way less than a man. He would not tolerate any such rumor, any such laughter. This, not any romantic ideal of husbandly fidelity, was the reason he kept no concubines. He would not bathe in the company of others. Even his slaves, once they had attended to their duties, would be sent away that he might not be naked before them. If anyone else but myself in all of Crete knew his secret, it could only have been his aesklepios, his physician. Wise beyond my years even on the night of my wedding, I had the sense to show neither mirth nor dismay at the sight I beheld. I felt both emotions commingled, for was this not the moment, the purpose for which fair Pasiphae had been groomed? To lie down with her husband, give pleasure to him and be pleasured by him, and bear for him fine sons and beautiful daughters? There was no pleasure for either of us that night. Minos, flushed by wine, bade me recline before him and open my legs. I did so, and he knelt between them, and to his credit his pale earthworm did poke up in readiness. I had more length and girth in my smallest finger. I could not help but wonder that even if I had been a virgin, whether he would have been able to pierce Hymen's veil at all. Not once did I worry that he would be able to know his was not the first organ to breach my femininity. He lacked the experience of any women, let alone sufficient comparisons to tell the difference. I was determined to make the best of it. Was I not queen of Crete? That in itself was to be envied. And I recalled how I had heard my mother's maids giggling and gossiping about their lovers, how they claimed that it was not the size of the oar but the stroke of the oarsman that moved the vessel. As Minos lowered himself upon me, I hoped that this was true. What I learned that night was that the stroke of the oarsman matters not at all if he cannot even dip the oar in the water. Minos spilled his seed in a dribble on my thigh before he had so much as touched my entrance. Moments later, he was collapsed on the pillows beside me, snoring vast breaths of sour wine. When he woke, he did apologize and blamed the drink, oh devious vine of Dionysus that was a fire to inflame the senses but melt the bronze. He must have seen my disappointment though I tried to conceal it, for he mustered up another feeble erection after much pulling and tugging of the poor little thing between his fingers, and this time got it successfully into me. He lasted ten thrusts. Ten. I counted them. Judging more by the slap of his belly against mine than anything I could feel in my loins. And then, sinking onto me, showering me with kisses more befitting a puppy than a man, he told me that I would be a good and true wife to him. I agreed, consoling myself with the thought that matters had to improve. How wrong I was. As the years passed, and Minos bothered with my bedchamber less and less frequently, I realized that it would ever be this way. Not once did he stimulate me to the point when sweet crashing waves tossed and spun my body on tides of delight. Not once did he evince any inclination to use another part of him – those same giggling maidens had also said that whoso could not stir the sauce could at least lick the bowl – and the sole time I tried to take his organ into my mouth, he recoiled as though he feared I would snip it off like a boiled stem. No, other passions boiled in Minos. War and law and treaties, at these he was potent, diligent, thorough. He never was cruel to me, and saw that I had all the finery and jewels and attendants I could wish. In all ways save physical love, and motherhood, I was well satisfied. Another woman might have taken a lover to make up the lack. I did consider it, oh, many times over the years. But I knew that the risk was too great. I suspected that Minos was as barren as Demeter's winter heart. I dared not become pregnant by another. Yes, there were secret elixirs against this, but they were not foolproof. And could I trust the discretion of a lover? Ultimately, I decided that I would make do, and tend to my own needs. At first, I found that my own hands, or the fingers and tongues of a succession of agreeable maidservants, sufficed. But I began to yearn for something more. Something of size and substance to fill the emptiness within me. Fruits, candles, and other objects only heightened my desire. A year previous to the arrival of the white bull that Minos so prized, I resolved to dispatch my most trusted maid on an errand. Ligia went to Daedalus, the genius, the inventor, recently welcomed into Minos' court. She provided him ivory, gold, and gems, and he worked his craftsman's magic to transform them into a phallus. I could hardly believe my eyes when I beheld it. Dazzling to my vision, the rod of a Titan compared to Minos, it was sculpted with such lifelike attentiveness to detail that I would not have been surprised to feel it pulse and lurch at my touch. The ivory was polished smooth, inlaid with veins of gold, decorated with jewels. I could not encircle the base of it with one hand. Though its substance was cool, it warmed quickly when handled. By the time I fell back and inserted it, easing it slowly in, the ivory phallus might have belonged to a living man. Closing my eyes made the illusion more complete. I pushed the phallus deeper, moaning with joy. At first, I maintained the slow pace, but as the gathering storm built within me, I surrendered with abandon. With this new device, I was happy and content for some time. I sent Ligia with a reward of silver and gold to Daedalus, not daring to thank the master inventor personally. He was another prize of Minos, brought out at feasts to display his latest creations, while Minos puffed and preened as though he had designed them himself. "… Daedalus," Minos said. I gasped, startled from my reverie and blushing to realize that my loins were tingling. I ached to be away from Minos, to be in my room again and taking the ivory phallus from its hiding place and … "Pardon, my king and husband?" "I will not sacrifice the bull," Minos said. "I will speak to Daedalus." "Not … but you … Poseidon …" "Do you not see, Pasiphae?" His eyes were bright again, fevered. "This bull is a gift to me from the gods. I would be insulting them to return it by way of an offering. Surely, a bull so fine and magnificent should be kept alive. Think of the divine herd it could sire upon my best cows!" He pointed into the pasture, of which we had an unobstructed view. The bull was impossible to miss. Among the dun-brown and black of the other animals, against the green of the field, its pure white hide glowed like the moon. It stood much taller than any other in the herd, with widespread golden horns. I had never seen such a creature. No one in Crete had. A curious feeling arose in me as I studied the bull. It was perfection. Strength and virility, kingly pride, majesty. As if … why, as if it were no mere mortal beast but touched by the gods. Perhaps even a god itself … had not Zeus disguised himself as a bull to carry away Europa? Could Minos be unknowingly right? He only wanted the bull for himself, and spoke of gifts from the gods to allay his guilt over what he knew was a breaking of his vow. Yet suppose that it was so? Suppose that a god, even mighty Zeus himself, had for the purpose of some test or trial come to Crete in the guise of a bull? For surely, if ever any creature had the aspect of a god, it was that white bull. It was raw masculinity, potency, power. As I watched, spellbound, I saw the bull nose at a cow. The cow stood docile, not even making a token effort to escape, as the bull heaved its forelegs onto her back and prepared to mount. The bull's massive organ slid into view, and my knees went strangely weak. Beside me, Minos was going on about how he would sacrifice the first calf of the next generation, that should please the gods, proof that he valued their gift. I barely heeded him. My gaze was fixed on the bull, and the cow. "Our herds will be the envy of all Greece," Minos said. I wanted to shriek at him to be silent, wanted to fling myself into his arms. I wanted him to bend me roughly over the sill, and enter me in the same way that the bull did the cow. Minos only rubbed his hands again, and grinned. "I've thought it all through, you see," he said to me. "I did say that I would make an offering of the white bull to the gods." "Yes," I said faintly. "But did I say that bull?" "You have no other white bull." "Not yet." He turned me to face him, his grin wider than ever. "Daedalus. I will have him make a … a costume. A costume of a white bull, which I'll have put on one of the other bulls. This bull, disguised, I will then sacrifice to the gods. Thus will the letter and spirit of my oath be kept, while at the same time, that bull will be spared. It is clever, is it not? Tell me it is clever, my wife." "Clever, oh husband," I said. Inside, where I had been warm and slippery, I now felt cold and hollow. "But … to trick the gods? Minos, my lord, do remember Prometheus! He thought to trick Zeus, presenting him choice meats wrapped in offal and bones wrapped in hide –" "That was very long ago, Pasiphae," Minos said. "And when Zeus chose the offering that seemed best, and found it contained only bones, he punished Prometheus. I would not wish to see my dear Minos chained to a rock with an eagle tearing out his liver." "Prometheus stole fire from the sun. It was for that he was punished." The tone of Minos' voice told me that he was near the end of his patience for my objections. So, I did not argue further. He was as good as his word. News reached me by way of Ligia the very next day that Daedalus was at work on a makeshift mock-up of a white bull. When it was finished, Minos bade the entire kingdom turn out. He had hidden the true white bull away in a stable, and had the false one brought forth. I had to admit that Daedalus' deception was convincing. It seemed even to fool the other cows. "It is impressive, my mistress," Ligia said as we watched from my window. "Why, I do believe that Daedalus himself could be in that costume, and no one would be the wiser." "I should hope that Daedalus would be the wiser," I said dryly. "That bull is about to feel the slash of the knife." The disguised bull was then duly sacrificed. Minos made much of it in his speech, thanking benevolent Poseidon and all the gods of Olympus. I was braced for my husband to be smote into cinders by a thunderbolt, as had been the fate of Phaeton, my brother, son of bright Helios. Or for the angry sea to rise up and devour him. But Minos remained unharmed. Had the gods in fact been fooled? It seemed that they had. The dead bull was thrown, disguise and all, onto the fire. Smoke rose in a dark billow, snatched apart by the winds. And no sudden roiling of black clouds, no ear-splitting crack of thunder, no searing bolt from above, no monstrous tidal wave. Minos had succeeded, and I realized that I was quite overwhelmingly relieved. Not so much for him, but for the true white bull. It would have been a great shame for such an animal to die, while still young and strong and in his prime. That was no ordinary bull. No, it was a thing of the gods. It had to be. My husband celebrated by making one of his rare visits to my room. As he undressed, and I waited with long-since dimmed hopes, I thought of turning myself over onto hands and knees, and bidding him take me in that fashion. But I could not bring myself to do it. Instead, I let him do as he usually did, and soon thereafter he was snoring beside me. Sleeping so soundly, in fact, that he never so much as twitched when I fetched out my ivory plaything and used it to good effect. It should have sated me, should have allowed me to follow Minos into the arms of Morpheus. Yet I could not rest. My limbs could not seem to arrange themselves comfortably. Whenever I did manage to close my eyes, I was beset by fractured images. The white bull. Minos' mere fingerling of an erection. The cow, mounted, being serviced. The disguise that Daedalus had crafted. So real … even the other cattle hadn't been able to tell. A disembodied phallus, cool ivory glinting with gems. The greedy little boy's eyes of my husband as he gloated over his prize. The white bull's enormous member glistening slick in the sunlight as he mounted the cow. The smoldering hide, Daedalus' creation going up in smoke. The white bull. Pawing, snorting, tossing his golden horns. The cow, making no move to get away. The white bull. When at last I found a thin and uneasy sleep, I dreamed of Europa, clinging desperately to the horns of a great black bull as it galloped over the sea. Europa, whose brother had lost his grip and fallen to death in the unforgiving waves. But the girl had survived. Carried to safety by Zeus, and gladly submitting to that divine embrace. I dreamed, too, of Io. Turned into a heifer by Zeus, lest she be discovered by the jealous eye of Hera. And Leda, enfolded in the soft white wings of the swan. And Callisto, who became a bear and was lifted into the night sky along with her son. And Danae, in her lonely prison, witnessing golden light streaming around her to take on a godly form. Europa. The black bull. The white bull. I groaned, half-wakeful, and rolled to my belly. My hand found the ivory phallus. Drawing my knees up under my chest, and reaching around until I thought my arm was about to snap, I was able to slip the device deep, and work it in and out while my mind was tantalized by memories of how the bull had loomed over the cow, how it had plunged and withdrawn its length. Panting, gasping, I moved the implement faster and faster. My loins pulsed and pounded. I trembled on the edge of climax, so close, so agonizingly close, and yet could not reach it. Frantic now, I threw myself to my back and rubbed myself with the fingertips of one hand while the other continued guiding the ivory. Fevered desire suddenly became frustration. I whined through clenched teeth, knowing that the harder I strove for it, the further from it I would fall. With heaving breaths almost like sobs, I removed the ivory phallus. Miserable and unfulfilled, I lay staring into the darkness beside Minos. The stars gradually became lost in the rosy dawn. I had not found sleep again by the time Ligia came in with a basin and cloth. I was in a wretched mood all that day, speaking viciously to servants, berating the slaves for even the least of mistakes. Minos seemed unaware, so pleased with himself was he. Thrice that day, he made reasons to visit the stable, there to smirk over his prized white bull. Pasiphaé Reine de crète Ce conte mythologique m'a troublé la première fois que j'en fis connaissance. Il m'a fallu longtemps avant d'écrire cette histoire. Je ne suis pas une amatrice de zoophilie préférant de loin les douces caresses d'une femme, mais cette histoire me tenait un peu à cœur. Bonne lecture et j'espère que cela ne vous choquera pas. Romane ******************************** Je suis la Reine de Crète, l'épouse du Roi Minos. Le grand Roi. Je suis la belle Pasiphaé. Comme je l'ai dis, mon mari est un grand Roi, mais que peut un grand Roi face aux Dieux. Je crains que mon bon mari n'ait provoqué le courroux de Poséidon, en ne sacrifiant pas le magnifique taureau blanc que ce dernier lui avait offert. Il est vrai que la bête est magnifique. Mon bon Roi m'a toujours bien honoré jusqu'à aujourd'hui même si je ne lui ai pas encore donné une descendance. Mais depuis quelque temps, j'ai comme la tête ailleurs. Je ne sais pourquoi, mais j'aime à aller voir ce magnifique taureau blanc qui passe maintenant son temps en compagnie de belles vaches. La vue de ce taureau me trouble de plus en plus. C'est la pleine lune. La nuit est chaude. Le doux murmure des vagues monte jusqu'au fenêtre du Palais. Je suis au lit, nue, couverte de sueur. Je n'arrive pas à trouver le sommeil. La lune éclaire la fresque devant mon lit, fresque représentant de beaux soldats crétois dans leur plus simple appareil. Une Reine ne peut se satisfaire elle même. Je prends alors le drap, le glisse entre mes cuisses et me frotte du mieux que je le peux. Je ne peux contenir le gémissement qui sort de ma bouche. De ma vulve coule une liqueur que je sais douçâtre au dire de ma fidèle servante. Je l'ai d'ailleurs déjà goûté sur ces lèvres et dans sa bouche. Dommage qu'elle soit partie voir ses parents. Sa bouche me serait d'un grand secours ce soir. Je suis nerveuse. La nuit est étrange, lourde de présages, comme si quelque chose allait arriver. Il me semble percevoir de mystérieuses présences. Ma caresse ne fait pas venir le sommeil. Il faut que je sorte. L'air nocturne me fera du bien. Je passe une toge légère et sors de ma chambre. Je croise des sentinelles, nues. Elles ont toujours été nues et je suis habituée. Pourtant, ce soir là, elles me troublent. J'ai l'impression qu'elles remarquent mon désarroi, mes sentiments inavouables. Je lui offre pourtant ma nudité tans ma toge est légère. J'aimerais qu'il abandonne sa garde et qu'il me prenne sauvagement sur la pierre du couloir. Ma vulve est encore tout humide. Je les effleure à mon passage espérant... J'arrive enfin face à la mer. La brise marine calme un peu mes sens en fusion. Sur la gauche, dans une prairie, je vois le grand taureau blanc. Je frémis. Il me regarde. Je ne sais pourquoi, mais je retire ma toge et offre mon corps nu à son regard. Que m'arrive t'il? Je découvre qu'il est la cause du tourment qui m'envahit c'est dernier temps. J'aimerais être parmi les génisses qui l'entourent et qu'il me face l'amour comme à l'une d'elle. Je suis devenue folle. Depuis ce soir là, je me montre régulièrement nue au fabuleux taureau. Il me regarde de ces yeux féroces. Mes seins durcissent et une liqueur inavouable sourde à la commissure de mes lèvres. Un serpent immonde a pris possession de mon cœur et de mes sens. Ma jeune servante est revenue. Ce soir là, elle s'est divinement occupée de sa maîtresse. Pourtant, ma tête était restée près de l'animal et une fois la fille partie, je suis allée lui montrer mon corps encore luisant de sueur et de plaisirs. Ce soir là, j'ai même risqué un pas vers lui. Lui d'ordinaire si farouche, me laissa m'approcher. Mes yeux ne fixe plus qu'une parti bien précise en lui : son phallus puissant et monstrueux. La nuit suivante, je me suis encore un peu plus approché. Je l'ai touché. Alors que ma main parcourait son échine, mon corps tremblait sous un plaisir immense. Son cuir était aussi humide que mon corps. Tous les soirs, je vais le caresser. Je jouis sans qu'il y ait un seul contact entre nous. Il me regarde, surpris, alors que je suis allongée nue dans l'herbe, récupérant mes esprits. Je ne quitte pas son puissant membre des yeux. Doucement, je me suis rapprochée de l'objet de mes désirs. J'ai pus le toucher et sentir la puissance. Je ne pourrais jamais le recevoir en moi et pourtant cela m'obsède de plus en plus. J'ai finis par en parler avec ma servante. Elle me prend pour une folle et pourtant elle ne m'a pas dénoncé auprès de mon époux. Mes pulsions l'emportèrent sur ma raison. Je fis appeler Dédale, le fidèle architecte du Roi et lui demandais de fabriquer une génisse en bois, creuse, afin d'observer un troupeau de vaches sans être vu. Il n'a pas tiqué lorsque je lui ai demandé de pratiquer un trou à l'arrière de la génisse en bois afin de pouvoir recueillir un peu de sperme de taureau pour études. Il fit un travail remarquable, enveloppant même l'animal d'une peau de génisse fraîchement abattu. Je fis porter l'objet sur la colline, non loin du taureau qui hante mes sens. Une fois que tout le monde fut parti, je retirais ma toge et m'installais nue dans la génisse en bois. Mon désir était incontrôlable. J'attends. Mon cœur bat violement. Je tremble. Je suis secouée de frissons violents. J'ai pris soins de oindre ma vulve de pommade afin de faciliter mon intromission bestiale. Je ne peux quitter la génisse. Je sens que mes jambes ne pourraient me porter. Un désir fou se mêle à ma terreur tout aussi folle. Je tremble, clouée dans cette position indécente... Mes fesses sont plaquées près du trou. Ma vulve est humide de désir. Tout à coup, j'entends les pas pesants de la bête sauvage. Elle monte la colline. Son halètement me glace le sang. Un désir obscène, à la mesure de ma terreur, croît en moi. Je sens son souffle à travers le trou. Je ne peux plus m'enfuir. J'entends le raclement de ses puissants sabots sur la croupe de bois de la génisse. Je sens son puissant pieu de chair venir heurter ma vulve, mais au lieu de fuir, j'arque encore plus les reins. Il me pénètre, me déchire. Je ne puis hurler tant la douleur est immense. Pourtant, petit à petit, la douleur fait place au plaisir. Je jouis alors qu'il crache sa bestiale semence dans mes chairs. Je reste là, pantelante, les sens enfin calment après de long mois de torture. Ma fidèle servante, qui a assisté à la scène, est venue m'aider pour sortir de ma cachette. L'air marin me fait du bien sur le corps. On brûle la génisse en bois et on rentre au Palais. Ce soir là je refuse ses attentions, préférant rester seule. Je trouve enfin le sommeil. 9 mois plus tard, j'ai accouché d'un monstre. Mon mari m'a chassé et tué le taureau. Poséidon avait eu ce qu'il voulait. Pasiphae Meanwhile, I tried every method at my disposal to quench the raging fire of my need. Nothing helped. When I could not satisfy it through self-pleasure, when Ligia's agile tongue brought me no release, when the ivory device left me as tormented as before, I sought to rid myself of desire altogether through cold baths and calmatives. Still, nothing helped. I passed another unthinkable night, this time alone. Once again, my fitful sleep was broken by half-formed dreams. When morning came, I rose from my bed pale and red-eyed, but knowing what it was that I needed. What I must have, else I would die. I bathed, adorned myself in my queenliest best, and bade Ligia accompany me to the workshop of Daedalus. It was a place that I had never before visited, and pausing in the doorway I wondered if this was what the realm of Hephaestus must be like. Forges and coals, barrels, unimaginable contraptions, tools. And there in the midst of it all, stripped to the waist with sweat shining on his chest, the master craftsman. Daedalus. A man in his prime, but already a widow, and father to a young son. He greeted Ligia, and was astounded to see me there. I surmised from a sly smile he tried to conceal that he had guessed the use to which the carved phallus of ivory had been put. But he did not speak of it, and neither did I. "I have a request, inventor," I said. Daedalus, grimy, was nonetheless handsome as he raised an eyebrow. "As you are my queen, would it not be an order?" "I intend to reward you well for your time and efforts." "All that I need, I have here," he said. "But tell me what it is that you require." My throat felt dry and I wished for wine. But, as there was none, I had to settle for a dipper full of tepid water that Ligia brought me from a corner barrel. Now that I was here, my resolve faltered. I pressed my knees together, the resultant pressure in my loins reminding me, promising me that there would be no more sleep, no more rest, no more satisfaction until the deed I so desired was done. "I require," I said, taking his word because he spoke true – it was not a request. It was a command, an order from his queen. "I require for you to fashion another costume, such as you did at my husband's bidding." "Another bull?" he asked, and I could see that I had puzzled him. I took a deep breath. "A cow, clever Daedalus. One that will not be made to disguise one of the herd, but that a person could hide within. A … a woman. With a … with an aperture at the rear." "Aperture," he said. His smile grew. He toyed with the word. "Aperture." A blush suffused my cheeks, but I nodded. "Yes. And it must be lifelike. So lifelike as to fool even a … a bull." Ligia was staring at me. I do not think she had known until this instant what I intended, and it dropped her jaw. I avoided meeting her shocked gaze, fixing mine on Daedalus. He still seemed amused, but his expression was also pensive. As if already at work in his mind, testing ideas, casting them aside, testing others. "A disguise of a cow, so lifelike as to be indistinguishable from reality." "Are you able to do this?" I asked. "Of course," he said, nettled. "Will you?" "I have no choice but to obey the queen." "I also require that you speak of this to no one," I said. "Not even the king, my husband." "Ah, now, that is a difficulty," Daedalus said. "I am first and foremost in his service. To keep something from him would not find his favor." "Surely your discretion can be bolstered by some reward?" Daedalus looked directly at me, boldly. "I have been without my wife for more than a year now. I find that I miss certain pleasures of a woman's company." "Oh, indeed?" I could not look away from him, though a delicious prickle ran down my spine and brought the peaks of my breasts to rigid points. The drape of my thin robe could not hope to conceal them. "I am a man like any other, with a man's urges," Daedalus said. He glanced deliberately down at my breasts, then back into my eyes. "However, I am not seeking a new wife." "You presume a bit much to look on your queen in that manner," I said. "I should hate to presume." He indicated Ligia with a gesture and a nod. "What of her?" The young woman started, and forgot herself enough to blurt, "Me?" "She is no slave girl, no prostitute," I said. "But she is your servant. Surely, to be of help to her mistress …" He let the words trail off. Ligia was quite understandably flustered, the poor dear. She had been standing to the side, hearing us but not speaking, and was at once the center of the conversation. "I am sure," Daedalus added when the silence drew out, "that she is of help to you in many, many other ways." "I am pleased to serve my queen," said Ligia, turning pink and casting her gaze to the floor. "In all things, and all ways?" the inventor asked. "Whatever is required of me." I was briefly pained by the idea that this unnatural compulsion would lead me to this, but once more the thought of the white bull rose unbidden in my mind and turned my innards to melting butter. "You shall have my gratitude if you agree, Ligia," I said. My voice was hoarse, husky, hardly my own. "This … this is important to me." Important? Life or death! For I knew that if I could not ease this hunger, it would surely drive me mad. I could not sleep, I could not eat, I would waste away from my unrequited desires. "I know that it is, mistress, and I would not fail you." "Very well. So be it, inventor. Have we a bargain?" "Yes, my queen," Daedalus said. He rose and extended a hand to Ligia. As he stood, I could hardly help observing evidence of his arousal. Even clothed, it was most obvious that he did not share Minos' inferiority. "What, now?" Ligia blurted. "This very day?" "Our queen, I take it, does not wish to delay any longer than necessary," Daedalus said. Apparently, my state was as evident to him as his was to me. I did not bother with any further embarrassment, however. I would have that which I must have, and nothing else was of any import. Daedalus took Ligia's hand and began leading her to the rear of his shop, where there was a cot that might have served as the sleeping-place of an apprentice, had he had one. He did not, at the moment, for he was by all accounts a demanding task-master and had sent more than one apprentice fleeing in tears. Ligia cast a nervous look back at me, and I saw that she was unsure about my presence. She carried herself stiffly, and when Daedalus touched her, she did not respond. His clever hands moved swiftly over her garments, undoing the clasps and brooches, baring her nubile form. Ligia bore this with eyes once more tightly shut, cheeks once more aflame. "Lovely," murmured Daedalus, caressing her breasts. He ran his hands slowly down her body, tracing her waist, her hips. I suppose I should have left them. I was not a prisoner in my own home as women in some parts of the world were. I was queen of Crete, wife of Minos, and if I chose to wander my palace, city, or kingdom unchaperoned, what of it? Yet I did not move. I remained where I was, watching avidly as the inventor sank onto his knees, and encircled Ligia's thighs with his strong arms. He nuzzled his face against the trimmed curls of her pubis, and seemed to be savoring her scent. Still, my handmaid stood rigid and tense. I saw her quiver as Daedalus nudged her legs apart, and kissed her inner thigh. Her blush had spread from her face to the upper slopes of her breasts, and her nipples were taut, but she clenched her fists and jaw. She uttered a small whimper as Daedalus moved his kisses to her labia. She swayed on her feet, had to clutch at the wild mane of his hair to keep her balance. I could now see only the back of his head, but could easily imagine how his tongue – as clever and nimble, no doubt, as his hands – teasing along the delicate folds. "Ligia," I said softly. Her eyes opened, found mine, averted. Not before I had seen the rising passion in them, and understood. "Ligia, do not feel that you must play the stoic," I said as Daedalus continued his ministrations. "I would not have you merely endure this, if it is within your grasp to enjoy it. Oh, no! For too long have women suffered or been left bereft by the attentions of their men, so many of whom are callous or indifferent. You have here, it seems to me, a partner who is anything but uncaring of your pleasure. Accept what he offers, and be thankful! Do not feel that you must only do this for me and take nothing from it for yourself. Ah, but how I envy you this moment, sweet Ligia!" During this speech of mine, she had relaxed by increments. Her hips tilted, pressing her loins at an angle against the face of Daedalus that gave him greater access to her most sensitive regions. He cupped her rosy buttocks in both hands, and burrowed deeper with his talented tongue – or so I judged him to be doing, what I should have hoped he would do were I in Ligia's place – and Ligia moaned. I would have given much to switch with her. My body reacted with pangs of desire. A man who knew his business, a true man! It had been far too long. Yet somehow, even then I knew that had I thrown all caution and sense to the winds, and pushed Ligia aside to present my own nakedness to Daedalus, I would have been dissatisfied. No man would do, not now. No mortal being. Only the bull, the white bull, divine beast that it was. God, perhaps, that it was. "Lie down," Daedalus said, raising his head from Ligia's thighs. She did so without looking my way. It was, and I was glad to see it, as though I were no longer present. I liked Ligia, and I did want her to enjoy herself. She reclined on the cot, breasts rising and falling on her rapid breaths, one leg draped languidly over the side, the other knee drawn up. I could see the tender pink of her vulva, how it shined with juices and saliva. Daedalus stripped off his clothes, and I gasped. My heart stuttered. I blushed anew. For, rearing up proudly from a wiry nest of curls, was a very familiar sight indeed. He had molded the ivory phallus in his own image. It was exactly as I knew it, down to the last detail of vein and curve and contour. I had felt it inside me many more times than I had that of Minos, and it had given me untold pleasure. This one, of course, was not pale ivory inlaid with gold and jewels. It was warm flesh, and I drew in a breath longingly at the sight of it. Daedalus spared me one wry glance over his shoulder, one knowing wink. Oh, yes, he knew for what purpose that ivory plaything had been intended. His notion of a jest, maybe, for I suspected that there was no love lost between him and Minos. Ligia began to giggle, recognizing it as well. She reached out and stroked it, toyed with the bulbous tip, licked her finger and ran it playfully along the seam of the foreskin. I should have brought the ivory version with me. Instead, I had to allow my own hands to suffice, dropping them into my lap as Daedalus lowered himself onto Ligia. She lifted her hips to him, and as he entered her, I slid three fingers into my damp and aching cleft. Ligia's drawn-out sigh, her smile, made me envy her more than ever. Her arms came up to embrace the inventor, to pull his weight down atop her. I admired the muscles in his back and shoulders, his buttocks flexing as he moved in slow, purposeful thrusts. He soon had Ligia writhing and crying out in abandon. If she had worried before that I was watching, she no longer cared. I might have been as unseeing as a marble bust. Clearly, clever Daedalus was as skilled in this as he was at his other craft, and oh, how I wished that I had foregone wisdom and given myself to him! It seemed hours that they went, as if the organ of Daedalus, like its ivory counterpart, could never lose its stiffness. Ligia quaked with a succession of climaxes while I whimpered in misery, unable to reach my own. At last, with a hoarse cry, Daedalus poured his seed into Ligia, wringing one last ecstatic wail from her with those final urgent strokes. Such a scene it would have presented, had anyone walked in. The inventor and the queen's handmaid, bodies sweatily entwined on the narrow cot, while the queen herself perched on a stool with her knees wide apart. But no one walked in, no one saw, no one knew. Ligia and I made our way back to my chambers, neither of us very steady on our feet. I hoped that Daedalus would be quick about his work. This was the greatest torture of my life. Sleep continued to be an elusive prize, and when I did seize it I was beset once more by dreams. It seemed that every part of me ached for release. Food and wine tasted like dust, and no diversion could hold my attention. Days went by, and more days. I began to think that Daedalus had no intention of keeping his bargain, that he had merely promised it to me that he might have his way with Ligia. But she, having taken to sneaking out to visit him at night – and share his bed, and enjoy his body! – swore to me that he was working on that which I had requested. Soon, she told me. It would be done soon. If she lied to me, I told myself, I would have her sent away to Sparta. Each morning, I saw that warm glow upon her face and knew how her night had gone. At last, Ligia brought me word that it was finished. I had never received any news more gladly. Luck, too, was with me for Minos was busy with matters of state that day. Talk of war would keep him happily occupied until well past sunset. Had I been thinking prudently, I would have waited until dark. But prudence was not within my possession. I was half-maddened from my deprivation. My days had been spent in agony, gazing out into the pasture and watching as the bull, my bull, serviced cow after cow. My worst moments were haunted by the idea that Minos would repent of his trickery and sacrifice the white bull after all, fearing the wrath of the gods. So it was that I rushed down to the workshop of Daedalus, and beheld the finished product. It was so real that I first thought he had some living cow to serve as his model. But the construction in the center of the room did not move, did not breathe. It was a perfect replica of a sleek and healthy cow, and I circled it in amazement. Daedalus showed me the slit in the underside, through which I was to climb. I hastily cast off my garments, not caring in the least how his eyes widened at the sight of my nudity. I was frantic to see my plan through, frantic to sate this burning need. I clambered into the mock-up cow, twisting around until I was properly positioned. My arms extended down into its forelegs, hidden eyeslits in its neck allowed me to see out, and my buttocks were pressed hard into the wooden curve of the cow's rump. I could feel a cool draft on my fevered loins. "And, as my queen required," said Daedalus, "the aperture, here." He probed with his fingers. I sucked in a shuddering breath. I tried to remonstrate him for his boldness, but my voice failed me. He gently pinched my labia, rubbed my clitoris with the ball of his thumb. I groaned through clenched teeth. Daedalus laughed. "Ligia will lead you out," he said, and instructed me how to operate the legs of the cow so that it could walk. Carefully, with Ligia holding a rope to guide me, I maneuvered the cow from the workshop to the pasture. A few people paused to look curiously at us, but the creation of Daedalus was so true to life that no one suspected it was anything other than what it seemed. We finally reached the green field. Ligia untied the rope. "Are you sure you wish to do this, mistress?" she asked in a worried tone. "I see the bull. He is immense." "Good," I said, my voice ringing hollowly. "Good, is he near?" I heard her gulp. "And coming nearer." "Go, Ligia," I said. "Leave us." "Oh, but my queen –" "Look at the white bull, Ligia. Is he not magnificent? Godly? Have you ever seen the like?" "No … his hide, so white, as if glowing … but the beast is so big, mistress, so strong! He'll hurt you!" "I shall not be hurt. Now, go, and return for me later, when the act is done." She went, hurrying across the pasture and throwing back fearful looks. I felt the earth shaking beneath a heavy tread. I heard a rumbling snort. Through the eyeslits, I glimpsed a large, horned shadow. Then pure whiteness, as the bull passed before me. Immense, yes, and corded with powerful muscle, and a swooning wave of passion rolled over me. The bull snorted again, tossing his gilt-horned head. Pawed the ground. I saw his eyes for an instant, deep and brown and intelligent, and I was more sure than ever that this creature was no mortal bull. He seemed bemused. I dared to hope that in all his countless conquests, perhaps mighty Zeus had never been greeted in quite this way. He circled me, nudging the false flanks of the cow with his nose. I trembled. I imagined Minos, breaking briefly from his discussions and happening to notice, pleased, as his cherished bull took interest in another cow. If he had any idea of the truth … A humid, hot puff of breath struck me as the bull sniffed and snorted curiously under the cow's tail. I felt the fleshy push of his nose. Then the supple slickness of his tongue as he licked that spot. Immediately, I was on the edge of climax. The sound that issued from my throat might have been the lowing of a cow. I pressed harder against the aperture, mentally pleading. Now, oh please, do it now, take me now, I silently urged the white bull. Again, the lick, a long and slow pass. Insinuating. I wanted to scream. I tried backing up, bumping the back end of the cow into the bull's chest. His next snort sounded like a laugh. I thought I would die, just burst apart and die, so overwhelming was my need. But then, with a strong heave of his body, the bull reared up and set his forelegs on the back of the false cow. It creaked – I thought of it suddenly cracking like a dry gourd, dumping me to the ground naked and in full view – but held. Anticipation thrilled me as I envisioned the bull's hind legs moving closer, moving into position. I wished I could see the enormous member, the fiery scarlet color of it, the throbbing glistening length of it. Then I felt it, prodding apart my labia with its tapered tip. I could not breathe. I could not think. My entire being was concentrated in my loins as the bull shifted, aligned himself. And thrust. A single hard thrust, impaling me on a shaft that felt as long and wide as a man's forearm. My tissues stretched unbearably, and I screamed, but even as I was reeling from the sudden splitting pain of his intrusion, I was wriggling and pushing back and trying to take more of him, more, all. The bull withdrew almost entirely, and ran deep again. I screamed again, this time less in pain than in affirmation. Never had I been so filled, and if he ripped me asunder in his rutting, I hardly cared. His forelegs held me pinioned, not that I wished to escape. The framework of the false cow squeaked and groaned in time with the bull's pounding movements. He went at me hard and fast, a steady fierce rhythm that threatened to crush me, to tear me open, even as I welcomed and relished every plunge of his thick heat into me. My first climax struck with a force that would have made Mount Olympus shake to its very roots. It was as if every single one that had been denied me in all of these long and wretched nights had stayed pent up, and were now released. I lost consciousness from the sheer ecstasy of it, reviving within moments to a second overpowering crash of sensation. My mind left me. Thoughts were nothing. I was in that brief span a beast myself, a goddess, an immortal. Pasiphae The bull drove into me again and again, grunting, snorting, blowing hot gusts of steam. I would not have cared if a jealous Hera had cursed me forever by transforming me, for such a fate would be worth it, accepted gladly. The throb and pulse of him buried in my body was purest carnal elation. I felt his massive body lunge harder against me, the tip of his huge phallus penetrating so deep that it seemed to enter my very womb, and I felt that entire length convulse, felt my loins flooded with his divine libation. Had the framework of the cow not been holding me in place, I would have fallen limp to the grass. My every nerve shook, my senses reeled. I rested my brow against a wooden brace, and closed my eyes, and saw my heartbeat flaring in bright lights behind the dark lids. His seed had overflowed, coursing in slow, sticky trails down my thighs. His softened, but still formidable, member slipped out of me as he withdrew. His forehooves thudded heavily to the ground again. I heard another snort, which seemed still amused but also weary. Now he would reveal himself to me, I thought. Now he would stand before me, not in his true god-form that would sear the eyes from my head, but in some other recognizable image. If I could open my eyes, that was. They felt leaden, my limbs slack, my entire being wrung with welcome exhaustion. I tried to raise my eyelids, but could not. I heard the slow and solid tread of his hooves moving away. All I wanted now was to rest my sated body. I succumbed, and slept. Ligia returned for me, and when she found that she could not waken me, she summoned Daedalus. Together, they got the wood-and-hide cow back to the workshop, and removed me from its interior. I woke much later, when dusk was settling over Crete, to see that the device had served me well but almost fallen apart under the repeated battering of the bull's hearty thrusts. I told Daedalus to destroy it. I knew I would not be needing it again. Just how I knew this was a mystery to me, but I accepted it as true. I returned to my chambers, bathed, and slept until nearly noon the next day. My craving had been met. I found that I was content now with the pleasure that my hands, my ivory plaything, or my maids could give me. Minos told me that he had been right in sparing the white bull, that his herd would see a bounty of splendid calves in the spring. The bull, he said, was as virile as a satyr, as potent as strong wine. He was, indeed. For, shortly thereafter, my womanly courses ceased. My breasts swelled with tender aches. My belly began to round. I was pregnant. And not, I knew, by my feeble-membered husband. If he had not sired a child upon me in all these years, he had not done so now. This condition could not be hidden forever. Minos initially thought that he was indeed the father, though just when this impregnation was supposed to have taken place, I could not know. He saw it as another gift from the gods. He was finally to be blessed with a son or daughter, and boasted of it throughout all of Crete. I prayed that he was right, while my heart knew better. And when my son was born, when Minos beheld the thing that had come from my womb, I had to confess all. My lusts, my unnatural desire for the white bull, the aid I had enlisted from Daedalus, the mock cow, all. "From this day forth, you are my wife in name only!" Minos roared, as though that was not what I had been all along. "And this … this monster is no son of mine! I would kill it, Pasiphae, but that would be too kind to you. I shall let it live, to remind you of your shame for the rest of your life." He was as good as his word. Impotent and vainglorious he may have been, but a fool Minos was not. His plan was simplicity itself. The child that Ligia had birthed, result of her dalliance with Daedalus, would be raised as our daughter. He needed an heir, even one not of his own blood. And as Ariadne was a mere girl, Minos would be able to choose the best of husbands for her, to be king after him. My son, born with the torso, hands, and arms of a normal babe but the head, hind-hooves, and tails of a bull, would be condemned to a lightless captivity forever. Daedalus, for the part he had played, was forced to build in the dungeon catacombs beneath the palace a maze of rooms, stairs, corridors and traps. This dark Labyrinth would be my son's home. My son … who would be known as the monster of Minos, the curse of Crete … the Minotaur. ** To be followed by a sequel: Ariadne