9 comments/ 46823 views/ 83 favorites The Minotaur By: GroovaliciousGoDDess She found herself on her knees in a low sandy floored corridor. The walls were of a pale pinkish stone, which glowed like flesh, even in the dim light. It was not dank or damp as she had expected...but quite pleasantly warm and only mildly humid. There was a slight, warm breeze, teasing the loose locks of her long dark wavy hair. It came from before her, and smelled faintly of the sea...with an undertone of some pungent, animal scent. There was blank stone behind her. She looked up as the grated hatch was dragged across the opening and barred from above. She had been dropped bodily through it, held by two huge men from the arms and let fall. It hadn't been so great a distance that she had hurt herself, but the impact had brought her tumbling to her knees, and winded her badly. Only now did the fear begin to creep in...How had she ended up in this place, how was she going to survive it, how was she going to get out? Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when the warm stillness was broken by a distant bellow, like an animal in pain...or hunger. The sound came again...low and drawn out. Then faded away to nothing. It had come from somewhere in front of her, down the long tunnel that seemed to curve off into the dimness. She gathered herself and scrambled to her feet. Dusting off her long draped gown, sleeveless with gathers beneath her full breasts and a deeply plunging neckline. It was made from thick spun raw silk. Samite...dyed a lustrous blue. A sacrificial gown. At any other time she would have been pleased by the way it enhanced her voluptuous figure, showing off the pale sheen of her white flesh, clinging to the curves of her breasts and thighs. On her feet were thin leather sandals, tied up her legs with soft thongs. No good for a trek, but they provided some protection from the soft sand. She looked around her. Cast off to one side was a leather flask full of water that one of the burly guards had thrown in after her, and a small hessian sack with some food and her personal belongings, a comb, and a cloak. She bundled the sack and stuffed it under one arm, then began to walk determinedly down the tunnel. The ceiling was barely half a metre above her head. As she walked she realised that the tunnel was not completely silent. There was a sound, barely audible, like a pulse...a giant heart beating, and then the slight susurrus of the warm breeze passing her in the tunnel. As she walked further down the tunnel, turning as it turned...the pulse became louder, more pronounced. Though still muffled, she felt it was leading her to something. Then abruptly, the tunnel ended, and branched. To the left, it curved down wards, into darkness. To the right it seemed to extend along the same elevation, but was lighter. The sound was louder from that direction as well. So she turned right. She began to feel a strain in her calves and thighs and realised that in fact the tunnel was edging upwards lightly, and then down again...Light flooded her sight, and she stopped, and blinked. She was gazing out across the great expanse of the blue Mediterranean Sea. And it was sunset. She was facing west...she stood in the opening of the tunnel directly onto a cliff face. A few metres in front of her was a sheer drop to jagged rocks where the surf was pounding regularly...this was the rhythmic heart beat she had been hearing, the sound of the surf crashing against the rock. She arched her neck, to either side and above was clear cliff face, smooth rock. This was no way out. And the sun was going down. Soon she would be lost in these tunnels, in darkness...alone. With whatever that creature was making the noise. She thought briefly of staying where she was. In the fresh air, within sight of possible freedom...but also exposed. At least it was warm now, but night would bring a chill breeze. Summer was drawing to a close, and autumn was on its way. She took the opportunity of relieving herself in the sand and then sweeping the resulting mess off the edge of the cliff. It would not do to go down into the darkness with a full bladder and bowel distracting her. Finally she took a deep breath, turned her back to the settling sun, and started back down the tunnel. As she stepped into the down wards sloping tunnel, she knew that she was stepping into the Labyrinth...from which no one had ever re-emerged. A few minutes into the tunnel, as the light was fading...she heard the animal again. Logically she knew it must be the rumoured monster of the Labyrinth, half man and half beast, but instinctively she felt sorry for it. It was such a mournful, lonely sound. Perversely, she was going towards it. She was almost curious as to what she would find. The tunnel branched, and branched again. She chose arbitrarily, still with some dim light to show her the outlines of the sides. But then the light faded so completely that she was plunged in darkness. She began to walk with one hand trailing against the sandy rough rock. Her left hand. She held her right out slightly in front of her. Feeling for changes in the air. The faint pulse of the sea had muted with distance, and her own breathing sounded very loud in her head. She became lost in the pattern of her own life moving in and out of her body. The evenness of the floor reduced the distractions of her movement, and she walked steadily down the tunnel without interruption, and without realising that she had followed the curve of the tunnel past several more branching tunnels, taking her ever deeper into the labyrinth. Once or twice she was startled by a slight sound, a movement in the tunnel, she stopped, and her breath caught, and then sighed in relief when she recognised the slight sounds of some vermin, a rat or a mouse. And eon in, but probably only about 10 minutes of walking, she heard the bellow again. It was very close...she stopped. Her heart was thudding...but was it fear, or excitement? She was tired now, weary from the confusion and terror of the day. Abruptly she wanted to stop, to sleep, to make it all go away and wake up in her own bed in her brother's house...away from the politics and the scheming that had brought her to this place. She should have just agreed to marry that filthy old reprobate, the Archons aide. Let him run his gnarled claws over her body and use her as he wished. At least she would have known what to expect, would have had access to wealth and comfort and food. Her brother would have protected her from the worst of it, and the bastard would have probably dropped off in a few years. But he also had a reputation for cruelty to his previous young wives. And there were rumours that the last one, sweet Persephone, had not really committed suicide at all, at least not on purpose. No, she shook her head at herself, she had volunteered for the alternative, to the shocked response of the assembly. Marriage to Achres or sacrifice to the Minotaur. Her brother had been furious, Achres had been practically apoplectic. They had not really expected she would call their bluff. Unexpectedly she began to cry, tears trickling unchecked down her cheeks. She was tired, she was footsore, and she was terrified. She was also hungry and thirsty. She fumbled for the water skin tied at her waist and took a couple of long swallows. Then she hefted it in her hand....barely enough to last her another day. If she were to survive down here, she would need to find a spring or something. That's if the Minotaur, or something else, didn't get her first. Suddenly she realised the significance of the opening in the cliff...it WAS a way out, but a way out by suicide. She wondered idly whose bones she had brushed her wastes down onto. And shivered. It was somewhat cooler now in the cave, but still not as cold as she expected. Nevertheless she pulled out her cloak, and swathed herself in its warm woollen folds, then started out again down the tunnel, continuing left. Even though it was pitch black, she had kept her eyes wide open, so it was that she astonished herself when she realised that there was a light ahead of her, steadily getting brighter. She paused, and then went ahead at a reduced pace. Reassured now by the roughness of the stone beneath her fingers. She could hear a snuffling noise. Like something eating...she came to an opening, there was a faint luminous glow spilling out, and she peered around it. And saw the Minotaur for the first time. He had his back to her, and he was huge. With the body of a wrestler, smooth rippling, bulging black muscle, he was at least two metres tall- seemingly entirely human, until you saw his head. She could only see the back of it but it was shaggy, covered in a thick black hair, with two curling horns jutting out either side above the long pointed ears. Inadvertently she gasped. And instantly cursed herself. The Minotaur stopped whatever he was doing and cocked his head; he turned on what she now saw were giant cloven hooves, and peered around into the darkness where she was crouching. She recoiled in shock. He had a face like a bull, with a long bovine jaw and fur over his face. Both of his eyes were set at the front, but looked curious rather than angry or aggressive. He made a funny whuffling noise, of enquiry she thought. In his large human hands he grasped what he had been eating, she was expecting some gory chunk of meat from Zeus knows what source, but instead she realised that he was gnawing on a long corn cob. So, she may as well get it over with. She stood up straight and stepped into the room, for that's what it was. The light was coming from a hearth against one wall, with a chimney drawing away the smoke to one side. It was a warm room, not too stuffy, with an alcove against one wall that appeared to be a sleeping shelf, scattered with what looked like rugs and furs. Off to her right there was another opening in the wall, and she could feel a cooler night breeze. She wondered if there was another opening to the cliff face there. The Minotaur stood standing with his mouth slightly open, staring at her. He put the corn cob down on a low stone table, and brushed his hand off, then strode towards her suddenly, reaching out one of his large powerful hands and grabbing her hand, she shrieked and he dropped it as if burned. Taking a step back and making a noise in his throat as if in apology. She swallowed. "Hello...do you, can you, talk?" He shook his head at her mournfully, then opened his mouth and pointed to his long tongue. "NNNnah tlk" "Oh" She considered, "but you do understand me?'" He nodded affirmative. "Oh." She hadn't really expected the beast to be intelligent...What should she say to him? Hi I'm your not quite virgin sacrifice? I have been sent for your ravishment? For your dinner? Dinner, damn. "I'm Calliope, and please...I am terribly hungry." Right on cue, her tummy made a peculiar gurgling noise, and she had to giggle. The Minotaur's liquid brown eyes, very human eyes really, widened in surprise, and he made a choking noise...laughter, damn, he was laughing! Calliope began to laugh too...and then everything went swirly and dark, and she fainted dead away. The heartbeat was loud in her ears, she could feel it through the soft fur under her ear...it crashed and crashed...she was caught up in its warm embrace, the rush of the sea in her veins. Coursing through her, heating her flesh, making her tingle and swell with life... But it wasn't the sea; it was a real heart beat. She was being cradled in the arms, the warm, human arms, of the Minotaur. Slowly she opened her eyes, the musky animal scent of him filled her senses...Her hand rested against his broad chest, she could feel his chest rising and falling with his breath. He was looking down at her, but his weird features meant that she couldn't quite define the expression he wore, was it curiosity, or something more...intimate? Something flipped over inside her, and she grew very warm...could it be that this creature was attracted to her? It was unthinkable!!! Or was it. He patted her slightly, then left her side and pulled one of the furs over her reclined form, smoothing it over her protectively. Then he heaved himself off the sleeping platform and went back to the hearth. He returned a few minutes later with some fruit and bread and cheese on a platter, and offered it to her... Carefully she raised herself on her elbow, letting the fur slip away slightly, and reached out to grasp a piece of melon. As she placed it in her mouth, biting the sweet flesh with her small neat teeth, she realised that the beast was staring at her cleavage with strange intensity. He saw her notice and quickly turned away, but not before she glimpsed what his barely there loin cloth was attempting to hide.... Suddenly her hunger had vanished, though she continued to chew mechanically, but in total shock...well, there was something you don't see every day! Of course the legends surrounding the Minotaur were numerous. The accepted story was that he was the son of the great god Zeus and a beautiful black slave. The slave used to tend the cattle of her master, and Zeus had been so taken by the way she cared for the beasts, that he had become enamored of her, and had transformed himself into a huge black bull. He would come to the paddock at night and would wait for her to come and check on her charges, and she would talk to him and feed him sweet grass by hand. His intention was to transform into a man and seduce her, but one night he became so inflamed with lust, that he mounted her in his bull form, and impregnated her...and the result that some nine months later, the fruit of this union was born, half man and half beast. Hera had discovered her husband's indiscretion, and had interceded decreeing that he and his mother were banished into the Labyrinth beneath the city of Minos for all time. Of course Calliope had been told that such a creature was an evil abomination, but to kill him would have been to anger Zeus, and so he was kept prisoner, yet fed and given gifts of beautiful virgins to placate his terrible hunger and lust. Of course Calliope had thought all of this was just a story made up to scare young women into doing what they were told.The women of Minos had always been warned, that if they were not good girls, and did what their families told them, that once every 10 years, a woman would be sacrificed to the Minotaur. So of course, it was rebellious young Calliope who had tested the legend, and this was her fate.But then Calliope was far more rebellious than they had even imagined. Had they really thought that a woman of 5 and 20 would moulder for years in her brother's house waiting to be married off to some rich sycophant, without trying herself the wonders of the flesh? Calliope was no virgin, there was no way she was going to submit to her fate quietly. And now, she wondered if some of the legend had maybe been...underestimated? She started to chuckle to herself, very quietly, and continued to eat her melon, as the suddenly bashful beast pretended to busy himself at some task near the hearth. She rearranged herself on the rugs, letting the cover fall even more. Finally the beast turned, with his eyes downcast and brought her a mug of wine, in his strange prancing walk...caused by the hooves that were his feet. She reached out with a slender arm and took it..."Thank you" She breathed, "you have been most kind." If a black hairy beast from the pits of Hades could blush, then that what he did. And provoked another response too, well she had not been imagining it the first time, from his nether region raised an erection so prodigiously huge, she almost choked on the wine he had just handed her. The member was black as night, and veins like thick ropes twined around it. The head was almost as large as her own clenched fist! Almost immediately she felt faint again, but at the same time instantly became aroused. Her nipples hardened and she became aware that her pussy was tingling and awash with juices. "Oh my..." She swallowed. "Well that is a very...large, member." She sat up completely, almost unable to take her eyes from it. He too seemed frozen in place, staring at her. Hesitantly, he came forward. The massive cock bobbing with his prancing step. He was at the edge of the platform; he reached out one huge hand and lightly caressed her head and face. His hand was so warm; she rested her cheek against it. Breathing in deeply and closing her eyes. He moved closer, perching on the edge of the platform, his other hand slid down the front of her robe, cupping one of her large breasts in his huge hand. She was quivering in excitement. She raised her own hands. Resting them on his abdomen, hard and rippling with muscle. She felt it contract. His cock was right before her face now, a pearly drop of precum was shimmering on the end...she stuck out her tongue and slid it gently along the underside of the frenulum and over the tip, the drop shimmered on her own tongue as she looked up into his bovine face. And she swallowed. He whuffled, both his hands now moved to her shoulders, very gently, he caressed her. She would not have thought such a beast capable of such tenderness. She brought her hands together as if in prayer, and gathered the shaft of his cock between them, clasping him firmly, as she took another long lick. She was so slick now; she could feel her thighs sliding together as if she had just been given a bath in oil. Barely was she able to engulf the head of his massive cock in her hot red mouth. Sweet, he tasted sweet, like tea with honey. Like grass after rain. She swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, drinking in his taste, his smell. His breathing was beginning to sound like a blacksmiths forge bellows. Deep and forceful. She grasped the base of his cock and ran her tongue up its length again. His hands were on her head now, his fingers tangled in her dark locks. She looked up at him and wondered. His head was thrown back, all his muscles were taut and quivering...she bent back to her task, her forehead brushed against his belly, and it was like a drum skin, vibrating with tense anticipation. Such power, such restraint, such gentleness. Again she took the head of his cock into her mouth, and then slid forward; so that her legs were dangling over the edge of the platform...She shrugged off the top of her dress, letting her creamy full breasts hang free. The nipples were as hard and erect as they could get, she gathered them herself and rested the shaft of the Minotaur's cock between them, cradling it there, and continued to run her tongue lightly over the head. He reached down to caress her breasts; almost reverently she thought...then took his cue and squeezed them together around his own cock. He moved very slightly, just enough for friction, and pincered her nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each hand... She almost melted, she loved having her nipples treated so. She felt him catch his breath and raised her head and arched back as his climax come suddenly....he bellowed...not the mournful sound she had heard down the tunnel, but one of true triumph and ecstasy, as thick gobs of cream began to pulse out of his cock, spilling over her shoulders and neck and her breasts. She laughed as he came, sharing his climax, even without having touched herself. She threw herself back onto the furs, as he lowered himself down beside her. His animal face was buried in her bosom. They breathed together for some time, and at first she thought he had gone to sleep, then she felt something wet and warm on her breast...he was licking her, licking at her with his long bovine tongue. Licking her clean of his own creamy cum. The spattered drops and great gobs over her breasts and neck. It felt delicious. His tongue was slightly rough and muscular. Hot and wet. He swirled it around her nipples, then took one into his mouth, suckling it almost painfully. A little electric shock went through her and she felt her cunt contract. She arched her back so that he could get to it more easily. She gasped in pleasure, and he turned his attention to the other one. The Minotaur ********** Author's Note: I'm not sure what this story really is. It winds up being more romance and adventure than the naughty titillation I generally produce, but the story took on a life of its own. I feel like it is good work, just not what I expected. I hope you enjoy it and I welcome feedback, good bad or indifferent. Thanks to Bikoukumori for editing this beast. Your help was invaluable. ********** Only a scrap of light from the smoky, flickering torch entered the barred cell, but in that tiny patch glittered a shiny piece of copper. Nothing shined in this hellhole, this warren of underground cells holding gladiator slaves for the great games above. No garnet or topaz would ever reflect the feeble light down here in the dungeons, no silver or gold would find its way here. Yet there it was, polished and gleaming in the red glow of the fire. The guard couldn't believe his luck as he reached between the bars and into the cell to retrieve the coin, stamped with the likeness if His Holiness the Emperor. He made almost no sound as he died. Arator, survivor of nearly ten weeks of daily combat, darted out of the dark to claim the prize his bait had lured. He grabbed the guard's wrist and pulled him tight against the bars, then wrapped his meaty fist around the smaller man's throat and squeezed. Face to face, he watched the guard's eyes in the flickering light; watched them go wide, then wider, then die. He wondered if that peasant in the stands had any idea what his tiny coin, tossed into the bloody sand of the arena floor after a victory, would buy down here in the dark. He reached out for the keys and quickly unlocked his cell, then pulled the dead man inside. He had perhaps an hour, if he were fortunate, before the guard would be missed. He stripped the man quickly, but as he suspected it would do him no good. The guard was skinny and small, neither of which could be said for Arator. None of the guard's clothing would fit him in any way, except the sword. He stepped out into the hallway boldly, knowing there were no other guards about but reluctant to rouse his neighbors. None had stirred as he crushed the life out of his jailor but he didn't care to chance it. The powerful man stole quietly down the gently curved hallway, following the path he knew to the intersection. He crept up to the room where he had always been forced to go up the ramp, up to the higher levels, the rooms full of weapons and armor, the training rooms where they taught him to fight for their Lord's amusement, the entertainment cells where he had tasted the sweet fruits of his victories in the company of one of the female slaves. He could not go up that ramp, but he knew they kept the women to the left where he had never been allowed. He hoped Kasuma was ready because he wouldn't be able to find her in the cells if she wasn't. Though he was no coward, he very much hoped to have her with him when he braved the other exit in the room – the heavily barred gate with the rough hewn steps beyond it going steeply down into the blackness. No one stood guard at the intersection of passages and he stepped quickly into the other wing. This area was much like his own, only much smaller. The men's cells were a maze of twisting passages and iron barred doors, and it was only through weeks of study he could navigate it at all. But there were far fewer women in this hole and it was easy to sneak down the narrow hall. He paused at every cage and peered in, seeing only darkness. Occasionally he would see a woman's foot near the door in the dim light, but most had learned to stay in the back, in the dark where the guards couldn't get at them so easily. That lesson only needed to be taught once, Kasuma had told him. Deeper in and further back he went, starting to lose hope as he searched. He dared not call out or tarry too long. Being caught by a guard would be better than waking up a flock of screaming slaves. They would summon all the guards. As he started to think of turning back without her, she found him. Her hand shot out of the dark through the bars, waving wildly. Arator smiled. Whether as companion, decoy, sacrifice or entertainment, the girl would come in handy. He unlocked her cell quietly and let her out. Truly she was the prize of the sex slaves. She was tall for a woman, strong through the hips and full across her chest, with a head of thick, dark hair; she looked wild and free already. She looked especially fierce in the dancing torchlight, he thought. She wore what passed for queenly garments in the pens; a short vest, sleeveless and cinched in the middle with a cord, held her round breasts. Arator enjoyed tearing that off her after killing a few lesser men in the arena. The scraps of cloth covering her lower half was a ragged dirty skirt that left her long legs bare. Again, the garment allowed easy access. Arator himself wore a simple rag that scarcely kept his manhood from flopping about. She had been his favorite from the moment she arrived, and as long as he kept winning he kept getting first pick. He motioned for her to follow and ran quickly down the passage. She followed closely, quietly, desperately. As they approached the crossroads, Arator pulled a few torches out of the barrel and handed them to the girl, then took one for himself and lit it from the one on the wall. The pitch-soaked wood flared up and he handed that to the girl, then started working on the lock to the barred door. It was old and corroded, but the stout key turned with a heavy thunk as the mechanism let free its grasp on the portal. "Are you sure we can escape that way? They say the beast lives down there!" Kasuma was terrified, of being found, of being eaten, but most of all of staying in that cell one more night. But if her fate was to die in a dark pit she'd prefer to at least have a chance to fight back. "There is no beast. This door hasn't been opened in years. As to escape...well, I have to try. We both know our fate if we stay. Come on! We go together." He shooed her across the threshold, then joined her and pulled the door shut. He didn't bother locking it as they all had keys and could get in easily enough, and he didn't want to waste time or risk someone hearing the loud mechanism again. He just hoped they would be too afraid to follow. He believed in the beast. Most people believed, in the city and in the dungeons. The stories of the great roaring half-man were legendary. His mother had told him the tales when he was little. Of course he believed, but he also had a plan. He held the sword, he had light, and he had a sacrifice to offer the creature if he should need it. But she didn't need to know that. Down and down in a tight circle the steps descended. The rock above became more and more oppressive, the air thick and stale. Gritty dust grew thick on the unused steps. He couldn't become complacent, though. Even if this route were unused, he had seen men dropped into the great pit in the arena, the pit which was said to lead to the maze, and the beast. Some assumed the fall would kill any unlucky enough to be pushed or thrown in, but Arator had seen the truth of it. When th shaggy northern barbarian Wozan the Bear had nearly defeated him, he had seen it. Wozan had pushed him to the edge of the pit and he had watched his helmet fall into the darkness, but not straight down. The pit fell at an angle after the first thirty feet and became an immense slide. Depending on the bottom, a man could easily survive that. Well, perhaps not easily. Not as easily as Arator had twisted out of the great oaf's grasp and split his belly open with his knife. He did his best to throw his opponents into the pit, hoping to sate the beasts hunger before he traversed its lair. And because the crowd loved it. He didn't mind he crowd cheering for him. When you fight for your life every day you learn to take what small joys you can in life, and the roar of the people was sweet indeed. He would soon find out if his offerings to the beast had done any good. Round and round they went, deeper and deeper into the earth. They had lost track of how many times around they had turned and how long they had travelled. When the stair finally ended it was a shock to them both. Arator slammed right into the heavy bars of the gate, and Kasuma slammed into him, dropping the torch. It was nearly out of fire but it held on long enough for her to light a new one from its dying embers while he worked on the ancient lock. The key would not turn, but the iron was so corroded and rusted that Arator thought his foot might work better. "Stand back." He landed a mighty blow on the barred door and with a terribly loud CLANG it burst open. They held their breath as the sound echoed through the caverns, bouncing and rebounding off unseen terrain, until finally the silence returned. They moved forward into a sand floor, searching in the small island of torchlight for walls or ceiling. Walls they found easily enough, but there was no sign of anything above them save darkness. The walls were rough hewn stone, carved by unknown hands in the darkness. Legend said the maze was crafted by slaves, dwellers of the deep conquered and captured by the ancient emperors. The escapees didn't care who made them, they just needed to find a way out. "Which way?" "No way to know. We must do the best we can and pray to the gods to see daylight again. Here, draw an arrow in the sand. We need to mark our path so we don't turn in circles." She did as he said, and then they were off. The passages were wide, too wide to see both sides in the torchlight. They kept the left wall in sight as they moved, stopping when emptiness yawned beside them and a new passage began. At each intersection they placed a mark in the sand. They moved quickly, and for a time they felt as if they were making good time but, much as the endless stair steps they had endured, the maze seemed to go on forever. One torch died. Then another. Then a third. On and on they went, becoming desperate as they searched for an exit, a chamber, a well, anything. But the passages stretched on and on, stone walls and sand floors without end. When the last torch began to flutter and fail, they were exhausted. Hours had passed and their escape had certainly been noticed. The guards would know the keys were missing and they would have found the door to the stairway unlocked. Would they pursue? Hell, if they did they'd find nothing but dead bodies, if they found anything at all. They would fare no better in the maze. No, they would not pursue. They'd be just as lost. Arator was no coward, but as the last flickering tongues of flame died on the last torch he did know despair. He sat down in the sand, exhausted and defeated. He took a deep breath and let it out, letting his hope go with it. It had been a very long shot to begin with. "What do we do?" Kasuma was scared. He could hear it in her voice. He had long ago lost his fear of death. Every day they strapped rusted scraps of armor on him, pushed some strange weapon into his hand, and sent him through the doors of that enormous arena to kill or die. Every day he said goodbye to his life. This was nothing new. Still, he was an active man. At least, when not shut in that cell. Sitting there in the dark, in the sand, waiting to starve, die of thirst or be eaten by a monster just did not sit well with him. If death drew near then he had better get what little comfort he could out of the situation. She did not fight him as his rough hands pulled at the small vest that covered her. He didn't bother trying to undo the scant laces that held it in place, he just pushed it up to release her heavy breasts. He crawled on top of her and pressed her into the sand, mauling her with his hands and mouth as he always did. He enjoyed her softness and the feel of her skin, though when he became excited he often got a bit rough. Soon he was hard and he split her legs apart, then entered her aggressively. She grunted at the rude intrusion she had felt so many, many times before. The darkness gave her no other input, nothing to look at while the man took what he wanted, no way to dream the moment away. She just lay there, pinned to the ground, defenseless and helpless. She was used to it, but to say she felt noting would be untrue. She had learned to swallow her anger, but not how to eliminate it completely. He took his time and made it last longer than normal before he finally reached his climax. He grunted and groaned and thrust into her wildly like he was stabbing a foe. When he was done he rolled off her and stayed where he landed in the sand. Within minutes she heard him snoring. He slept. When he woke he had no idea how long he had slumbered. He was hungry, and thirsty, but there was nothing to be done about those things. Unless he was willing to kill and eat the girl, of course. He considered it, then decided against. He wasn't worth much as a man but he was no monster. Besides, he might still have a use for her. When she roused him he was slow to rise, but then he listened. "I can see! There is light! Wake up!" Light? Guards! He was up in a flash, his sword held ready. But the light was no torchlight. It was a subtle glow, and dim luminescence all around them. With his eyes closed for a few hours, they had adjusted to the darkness and he could see his way now better than with the torch! Elated, he nearly shouted his newfound hope out loud, only...something was wrong. Something new assailed him...but what? He reached out with his senses and quickly placed it – the smell. It was dirty, musty, the smell of animal flesh and man sweat. It could only be one thing. Kasuma confirmed his fear when she screamed. He whirled around and faced it – the beast had found them. Even in the glowing light of that haunted place, they could see only his outline. A huge, hulking man shape stood in the middle of the passage, but where a man's head should be was...something else. They could see the horns, wide as the shoulders and sharp. Its breath was low and deep, a cavernous rumbling through its terrible maw. The gladiator held his sword at the ready but stood next to the slave girl, ready to fight, flee or hack at her leg in order to leave her behind. But this beast was nowhere near the monster of all the stories. It was big, but no giant. Arator was a large man and this beast stood a full head taller and was broader across the shoulders. Still, this foe was not insurmountable. Wozan the Bear had been almost as large. His weeks in the arena had honed his skills and he felt ready to take on this creature. He stepped forward and shouted his defiance. "I see you, beast, and I do not fear you! I am Arator the Mighty and I have sent dozens of men down that hole. I have fed you well already. You will not feast on me." The beast stepped closer, cautiously it seemed. As it neared they could see its features more clearly. The monstrous head seemed that of a bull, but more manlike. The eyes were not the dull brown orbs of an animal, nor the savage yellwoe shemight have expected from a blood thirsty monster, but cold blue even in this queer half light of the catacombs. Kasuma was terrified, but as the eyes met hers she felt something different. The beast seemed somehow more alert and human than savage and bestial. It regarded them both, looking them up and down and lingering on the half naked woman. For a moment her fear receded. The rest of its body was that of a man, large, stout, powerful and hirsute. It wore a loose, tattered tunic across one shoulder and belted at the waist with a length of frayed rope. It wore no sandals or shoes, just bare human feet in the sand. "Back, foul demon! I'll split your hideous skull if you come closer!" That was a lie. Arator would lunge for the unprotected belly instead, not the head armored by those massive horns. If the creature could even understand him then his ruse would make the kill that much easier. He was ready, primed for the attack. When the monster moved, Arator lashed out. The beast reached for him with some weapon or strange device in its huge, filthy hand, slow enough to make the counter attack simple. He ducked under the beast and slashed across its belly with the stolen guard's sword. The creature roared in pain, its voice thundering through the caverns. Kasuma dropped to her knees and held her ears, once again fearing for her life. Arator pressed the attack and poised for a killing blow up into the ribcage, feeling invincible as he was about to slay the famed Minotaur of myth and legend. Arator died with that thought in his mind, having no time even to realize he was dying. The mighty beast raised a fist high and brought it down on the gladiator's head, crushing it like ripe fruit. The body fell in the sand, never again to move. Kasuma could not even scream. Her protector, cruel and deceitful as he was, had just been slain. And she was next. She knew it. Down here in the deepest pit of despair that evil monster was going to crush the life out of her. The shaking, wracking fear consumed her, transformed her, turned the knots in her stomach to lurching knots in the muscles of her arms and legs. She stood, fists clenched. She would not die on her knees. She would not die a craven little girl, cowering in the dark. She would die like Arator, in combat, fighting for her freedom. The Minotaur had staggered to the wall, leaning heavily and groaning from its wound. She could see the sword lying by Arator's body. Adrenaline flowed through her, anger and desperation drove her forward to pick up the blade, and with a warriors cry she charged the filthy animal. She could not speak. She could not breathe. A powerful hand wrapped around her neck, fingers like iron bands. The other held her forearm and pulled, stretching her painfully. Up and up she went as the Minotaur stood and raised her face to face with it. Fury boiled in its icy blue eyes and she could feel him crushing the life out of her. It roared in her face, bellowing out its rage and pain. Her arm felt moments away from tearing out of its socket and flecks of light began to crowd the edges of her vision. She was dying and she knew it. With her last bit of strength she spat out her dying words. "I...do...not...fear...you." Her eyes closed and all was blackness and silence. Pain. Pain and sand woke her. She took a deep breath and coughed harshly as sand entered her nose and mouth. She was face down on the ground. She pushed herself over to lie on her back, her arm throbbing but still there. She spat and coughed and tried to brush the sand away from her face. What happened? Had the beast let her live? Had it gone away? "Grrrrawph!" Her head spun at the sound. No, it had not gone away. She stayed on her back, waiting. It could have killed her easily. But it hadn't. Why? She stayed still, looking up at the towering form in the dim light. It pressed an arm across its belly and she could see drops of thick blood falling to the ground. Arator had damaged the creature, obviously. It shuffled over to the heap of dead flesh that had been the warrior. It knelt in the sand for a moment, then rose and came back to her. One deadly fist rose above her and for a moment fear stabbed at her, but she let it pass. She had been through enough and she would not easily let fear into her heart again. The water skin landed on her belly with a cool, wet splat, sloshing and spilling from its narrow tip. "Oh merciful heaven!" she exclaimed, sitting up quickly to drink. The water was cold and clean and she could feel it fall down her throat and into her parched belly. They had been so focused on escape that she had not realized how thirsty she was. She drank deeply of the pure water and felt it course through her, nourishing and energizing her tired limbs. The Minotaur She stood, almost because she had to. She felt refreshed and alive, rejuvenated and alert. Her senses seemed sharper, the strange world around her more clear and real. A deep calm washed over and through her. The Minotaur stood near, watching, waiting. She could smell it, that odd mix of man and beast. She could hear his labored breath and the slow drips of blood falling to the sand. She could feel its presence, its power, its supernatural strength. She even thought, for a moment, that she could hear its beating heart. "Thank you." She said, holding the water skin out. The Minotaur took it, drank a small amount, then slung it over its shoulder on its long strap, and waited. "What now?" Serenity enveloped her. She could not remember feeling so calm and focused, so centered and in the moment, so alive. She felt ready for anything. The towering form leaned down with a grunt and picked the little sword off the ground. It tucked the blade under its rope waistband and made a motion with the other hand. "You want me to follow?" The great horns bobbed as it nodded. "I will follow you." It turned away and shuffled off into the maze, still holding its belly. She stayed close, but not too close. Her eyes had adjusted to the strange light but it would still be easy to lose her companion if she strayed. Buoyed by the strange power of the water, she followed for what must have been miles. The Minotaur moved ever onward, lead by some impossible knowledge of this vast catacomb. Kasuma tried to count the lefts and rights, the turns and corners, the long straight sections and the steps she took, but it was impossible. Intricate intersections of five, six, seven or more passages came and went, twists and turns and ramps and tunnels passed, and always her guide moved without hesitation, ever onward. A gnawing thought was evolving in her head. She could feel it more than anything else, and she had no evidence at all. But still... "Do we travel east?" It stopped and turned, looking back at her. The glittering blue eyes narrowed at her and the wicked horns tilted ever so slightly. It raised a massive arm and pointed, in roughly the direction they had been travelling. "Ihhhsht." "East?" It nodded slowly. "Ihhhsht." It pointed at her, then at its head. 'You know?' it seemed to ask. "I've always been able to find my way. Not down here, but...usually. I just felt like we were heading east." "Hruh huh huh..." It turned and resumed the long trek. But that noise...had it...chuckled? Hours unknown, miles untold passed under her feet, and still they walked. She should be exhausted, she should be unable to move, she should be feeble with hunger and yet she matched the creature step for step. She could still feel it, smell it, hear it. She thought the bleeding had stopped but the noise of its breathing was slowly becoming more labored. She began to worry that it might expire before they reached...wherever they were going. When she finally smelled the sea in the air, she was actually becoming tired. The moisture and salt were unmistakable, and before long she could hear waves crashing against the rocks. They had travelled all the way to the sea! The city was fifty miles inland – had they really walked that far? The unseen ceiling lowered now and she saw ragged cave rocks above her. The passage narrowed and contracted and angled down as the roar of the ocean grew nearer. They turned a sharp corner and she was assaulted by the light of day! She shielded her eyes and moved forward, past the Minotaur and through more twists and turns, and then she was out. She stood on a thin wisp of beach at the foot of a massive rock wall, hundreds of feet high. This was the great eastern sea, called the Eversea, the Morning Sea. She had never seen it and she gazed in wordless wonder at its vastness. It went on forever! The hour was late and the sun was low in the west, long since passed out of sight from the base of the towering escarpment. The light was low and red, the clouds painted in vivid colors. Had the sun blazed overhead she would have had to seal her eyes shut, but in the fading glow of the day she could blink away the tears and pain well enough. "Kha-ssshoo-ah." The beast was making noise deeper in the cave, the harsh guttural voice echoing off the stone walls. Was it calling her back? Was it calling...her name? She walked back into the darkness, around a corner and back to her guide. Her rescuer? "You are setting me free?" It nodded his great, shaggy head. Yes "So...you aren't down here to kill the king's enemies?" "Phaugh!" No. She stood there, considering the creature. In the brighter light that filtered through the cave she could see him better. His face was...monstrous, yes, but not so terrible to look upon. He looked not so much a bull, but a midpoint between man and bull. The snout was extended, with large flaring nostrils, but the mouth was not the simple cud-chewing slash across a beast's face. The lips moved as it tried to speak. She wondered if he could even smile. His face was hairy, but between the great horns there seemed an almost normal head of man hair, ruddy brown and unruly, ragged and unkempt to be sure, but somehow...normal. She fought a brief urge to ruffle his hair with her fingers as one might do to a child. A tuft of shaggy beard grew from his chin, further marking the man inside the beast. The longer she looked at him the less animal she saw, and the more human came to light. But the eyes – those were the eyes of a man. Deep blue, sharp and bright, they twinkled and glittered with intelligence and compassion. They captivated her. She stood there in the dim cave, staring up at him, lost in his eyes. "You are no monster at all. What are you?" His heavy hand lifted to grasp a horn, as if to put lie to her words. I am a beast, he seemed to say. "Krrrrrsht." He rumbled quietly. "Cursed?" He nodded slowly. They regarded each other in silence as the waves sang their eternal song. What could she offer this poor creature? She looked at his wound and recoiled – he was barely holding himself in. Any human would have died long ago, and who could say if this cursed creature would last much longer? Had he given his life to set her free? "What do I do?" He stirred, sighed deeply, and lifted the water skin from its place. He hefted the bladder, feeling its weight. He opened it, lifted it high and let a thin trickle fall into his mouth, then stopped it and handed it to her. As she took it, he began to make signs with his large hands. 'Drink.' She drank. 'Drink.' She drank the rest of the water. It was still bracingly cold and it filled her again with vitality and vigor. 'You. Walk. That way. 2 days.' "Go south along the shore for two days?" He nodded slowly. "And then?" He shrugged. "Phrrreeeeee," he rasped. "And what about you?" He hung his great shaggy head in the shadows and slowly turned his head side to side. "Nawht phrrrreeeee." One massive hand reached out from the dark and touched her cheek gently. She had long since learned not to recoil from the unwanted touch of a man – that would usually earn her a beating – but this time she found she did not have the desire to pull away. His rough finger caressed her face for a brief moment, then fell. He pulled the sword from his waist cord and dropped it in the sand at her feet. Again he signed. 'You. Go.' And then he was gone, back into the cavern, into the darkness, into his cage. Kasuma picked up the sword, walked back out to the beach and stood there, alone. More alone than she had ever been. She had been third of nine siblings, nine that lived past infancy at least, and she had always been surrounded by family as she grew up, a simple farmer. When the raiders came and took her, she had been pressed into a barge full of other slaves, surrounded and oppressed. In the slave pens she had never been alone. Even in her cell there were others all around her. Now she stood on the edge of an endless sea, a belly full of energy to keep her moving for two days and nights, enough to take her back to...what? Civilization? What was left for her there? What would stop the first band of men she encountered from snaring her, abusing her, and selling her back to the same slave pens she had just escaped? There was no home left to go back to. The raiders had seen to that. She had been a farmer, but how could she ever return to that life? What young man would marry her, now that she was spoiled and broken? She could never give a man babies; the slavers had hurt her, cut her so she could not bear children. Of what use was she out there? She looked up at the darkening sky and felt exposed, vulnerable, and for the first time in days, truly scared. Stars began to emerge from the blue black canopy above. She never did like the stars. They always felt like eyes staring down at her, ravens and other dark fiends of the night watching her with malevolence. More and more eyes opened in the night as the last of the sunlight fled. She could feel every evil thing in the world pressing down on her, guided straight to her by those merciless unblinking eyes in the sky. Her fear had been growing to dread, and dread threatened to grow into panic. This world had no place for her, no need of her, no kindness to give her. It was as if she were...cursed. Kasuma raced back into the cave, back into the glowing underworld that held her only solace now. He needed her. Damn her foolishness! How long had she stood there like an idiot? Two hours? Three? The strange potion gave her a deep well of strength but seemed to dull her sense of time. She tried to remember the path they had taken, tried to see their passage in the sand at her feet, but before long she stopped, uncertain and unable to continue. Six paths led from here – had they come from that direction, to the left? Or up from that tunnel ahead? Damn! She searched the ground but found no trace. Had they come here at all? Damn! Think you stupid girl! Think! She closed her eyes and clenched her fists, trying to force her brain to come up with an answer. But none came. There was nothing here but empty silence for her ears, sand between her toes, that dim hazy light from gods know where for her eyes, and...wait! She inhaled deeply through her nose. The water had sharpened all her senses, she just needed to use the right one! Again she smelled the air, and this time she had her answer. "There!" she yelled as she set off at a sprint. Down through the tunnel, up a gentle slope, the second left in a large conjunction of passages and portals, past openings left and right in a long straight line, right, then left, then up and a gentle left, on and on she went unerringly guided by her nose. His scent filled her head, no longer the stink of some beast, but the musk and hot blood of a man, a man in need. She cried out when she found him, crumpled into a heap in a corner. She crashed into him, being wary of his sharp horns, and shook him. "Don't die on me you damn brute! Wake up!" "Hrrraughmmmmph!" He shuddered awake, his blue eyes unfocussed and blurry. It took a moment for him to fix his gaze on the woman. "Kha-ssshoo-ah." "Yes, Kashooah." She wondered if he could see the tears in her eyes in this dim light. "What do I do? Do you have a lair somewhere? Do you have bandages?" He lifted a hand and waved it side to side, then paused. Then he lifted the empty water skin and pointed to it, then to Kasuma's mouth. "I don't understand." He turned his head and brought the sharp spike of his horn down, then lifted her hand to it. He poked her, breaking her flesh and bringing up a bead of blood. "Ow! What was that for?" Again he lifted the water skin, this time turning it over and shaking a few last drops out onto his hand. He rubbed a great thumb, moistened with a drop of water, across her skin and the tiny puncture was almost gone. "The water heals?" He nodded his head, slowly. "Then why did you give it all to me? You could have saved yourself!" The answer to that one was apparently beyond his meager sign language to convey. "Alright, you need more water. Where do I go?" The great beast sighed deeply as if steeling himself for a great task. He raised a hand and pointed down a passage before him. "I go that way. Then?" One finger, then left. Three fingers, then right. "The first left and third right?" Yes, he nodded. Four fingers, then down and gently left. "Pass 4 lefts and take the one that goes down and a little left." Yes, he nodded. The instructions were not brief. He made her repeat them as he went along, starting over many times. When she felt she understood them well she started to rise. He caught her arm and pulled her back down. With the massive hand which had once nearly crushed the life out of her, he held her face gently. He made no noise, but his eyes...she knew then that he could see the tears in her eyes before, because she could see them in his now. She ran, empty water skin in hand, working over his instructions like a mantra. Left, third right, past four lefts and gentle left down, hard right, straight until a wall, then left. On and on she went, her bare feet pounding the soft sand as she ran. She never once wondered if she could retrace her route. She knew she could. She had to! She chanted the instructions over and over until they were a prayer, a ward against fear, a promise. Time slid by and she ran on; hours and miles flew by. She knew the end of the instructions was near, but she was unprepared for what she found. She flew out of a large archway and into a cavernous room the size of the great arena so far above. The ceiling was a high dome supported by wide stone arches. She had never imagined a room so big. In the center of the ceiling was a gaping hole, the exit of the pit from the arena. She went to the center of the room, under the hole. Three bodies lay in tangled heaps, victims of the day's games. It was difficult to tell the distance in the odd light of the caverns, but it looked like a fall that would kill anyone. There were no survivors down here. No fallen gladiator would ever live to see the beast, let alone be killed by it. She had paused in her flight, but the mission intruded on her wonder. She was near his lair now. She looked around, for a moment worried that she had lost her way, but the exit was obvious. Many passages lead from the arena, but one was far more grand than the others. That was her goal. She ran. Down a long hall with no side passages, she found it. The room was large and round, ringed in pillars with a ceiling perhaps twice as tall as the Minotaur. Compared to the pit room it seemed almost cozy, but it was similar. There were several exits around the perimeter. Stout stone furniture stood in the room; a table, a bench, what must have been a bed, covered in a motley mess of rags and scraps of fur. All over the walls were pictures, murals, beautiful artwork buried and unseen by mortal man. But she had no time for that. Straight across the room an archway yawned wide, more ornate than the rest. Through it she dashed, following the tinkling, musical bubbling of water. The well was simple and beautiful, a large marble bowl on a pedestal caught a steady stream of crystal clear water spilling from a crack in the wall. She quickly filed the skin, then took a deep drink from it herself. She knew she needed every bit of energy she could hold and the water seemed to give her less than it had before. Perhaps she could only use it so much before it failed her. She refilled the vessel and sealed the stopper, then turned to go back. Hours and miles, hours and miles. She ran as fast as she could, dashing down corridors and racing across the sand, singing her instructions backward now though she barely needed them. She could feel the way. The water was making her part of this place, even if it were no longer providing the vigor it once had. She began to tire, her legs became heavy and her lungs labored with the strain. She wondered briefly if it would turn her into a beast as well, but she realized she didn't care. She just needed to get back in time. Finally, she found him. Just where he had been, propped up in a corner as if sleeping, he still waited. Again she crashed into him, but this time he did not wake. She grabbed a long horn and shook his head, and still he did not stir. "No! No, damn you!" She slapped his bestial face hard, her hand stinging from the blow. "Wake up! Wake up!" Silence. She put her head down to his chest and pressed an ear against him. The hair of his chest tickled her face and his skin was warm. Please, she thought, please be alive. Moments passed and all she could hear was her own breathing, her own blood in her ears, her own breaking heart. Then she felt it. She couldn't have heard it, it was too faint to hear. No, she felt his heart beat feebly against his ribcage. He was still in there! She poured some of the water into his gaping mouth, then moved the hand across his belly and poured some on his wound. The blood washed away, and for a moment she could see the terrible opening in his gut. How had he survived as long as he did? She poured more water straight into the gash, then more into his mouth, praying. Finally, he groaned, a deep lowing sound that would have terrified her just days before. Now she found it joyful. She could see the wound slowly closing, healing before her eyes. His hand was grasping feebly and she pushed the half-full wineskin into it. He raised the skin and drained it. He dropped it wearily next to him and looked at her with his bright blue eyes. She saw that he could indeed smile with that strange mouth. Exhaustion overwhelmed her. The magic of the water had run its course and left her feeling like en empty shell. The stress and emotional turmoil had also taken their toll, and Kasuma could no longer keep her eyes open. She turned, sat in the sand and leaned against her new friend, and in moments she was asleep. She dreamed. She was in a dark place, but warm and comfortable. Safe. She stirred from sleep and turned her face into a soft rug or blanket. She let her fingers splay through it, feeling the warmth underneath. It took a moment to sink in. She opened her eyes and looked up. The Minotaur carried her in his massive arms and she was nestled into his broad chest. She had not felt so safe since she was a child. She curled up a bit and sighed, falling quickly back to sleep. When next she woke she was on a hard surface, much less comfortable than the arms of the beast. She sat up and looked around. She was in his lair. In his bed, for lack of a better word. He had bunched the scraps of cloth and fur together to form a makeshift mattress. It helped a little but she still woke aching and stiff. Her muscles burned and she felt as if she had lost a fight. She stood and stretched and immediately regretted it. Every part of her hurt. At least now she had time to examine the room better. The room was fairly clean and seemed new. In relation to the rest of the maze, at least. The marble columns were white and clean, the sand...goodness! The sand was completely flat, combed and smoothed. Only her footprints marred the perfect surface. She felt suddenly guilty for the intrusion, for disturbing the floor. Well, how else was she to move around? She set that worry aside and moved to the outer walls to view the murals. Quickly she found the beginning of the picture story. She was glad there was no writing as she had never learned the way of the dead words. But the pictures told the story very well. There was a man, proud and strong, rich and powerful. No, he was the king; she could see his golden crown. He built a grand palace and had many women and animals and fine things. But he was cruel and heartless. One panel showed him directing the torture and murder of many people. He caused the great labyrinth to be built, and then the arena over it to entertain himself. He made sacrifices to the gods for...she could not tell. A large panel had been ripped down and destroyed many years ago. After that, there was the beast. Furious, powerful, it killed many men in the arena until they drove it down into the pit. The final panel showed the creature waiting at the bottom of the great shaft to hunt and kill those poor souls who fell in. The Minotaur She pondered on this new information. The mural showed the beast as savage and evil, but that was obviously false. She wondered what else was not what it seemed. It would take time to pull answers from the Minotaur since he could not speak well, but she could think of nothing she would rather do. He moved quietly but she still heard him approaching. She turned to face the archway as he entered, ducking slightly to keep his horns from hitting the stonework. Either the light was brighter here or she was becoming accustomed to it, because she could see him clearly now. His snout was extended, his nostrils large, but his eyes faced forward and not to the side as on a bull. His ears were pointed up behind the long horns with little tufts of hair at the ends. His skin was covered in a fine brown hair. But as always, she couldn't look away from his eyes. He paused when he saw her, hesitant and unsure. She could see it in his eyes and she smiled. He was shy! Hard to believe such a fearsome creature could be so...adorable. One large hand was behind him, hiding something it seemed. He moved into the room toward Kasuma and held out his surprise to her. It was a helmet, upside down and filled with dirt, and out of that dirt rose the strangest thing she had ever seen. They must have been mushrooms, but they were colored and ridged and fluted, bursting with detail. She had seen exotic birds at a travelling caravan once as a child. They were green and blue and red, all striking colors and wondrous textures. The beautiful fungus reminded her of that happy memory and she smiled wider. They did look like birds, almost. "A gift?" He nodded, pushing the helmet/bowl toward her. She took it, her hands touching his for a brief moment. "Thank you. They are beautiful." He smiled, a strange, crooked thing that might have looked alarming had she not recognized it. He had powerful teeth, large pointed ripping spears near the front, the teeth of neither man nor bull. She should have been afraid, some small part of her realized. She let that part go unheeded. "This is your story?" she asked, indicating the mural. He glanced at it, then seemed to shrink a bit in apprehension or guilt. Yes, he nodded. "It shows you as a terrible monster, hunting and killing men. But that's not true, is it?" He hesitated, then shook his head, No. "Was it ever true?" He moved to the marble slab that was his bed and sat, bringing his face level to hers. His eyes were sad as he slowly nodded. Yes, it was true once. He had been that monster. "So you were the king who built this place, and this is your punishment?" His eyes hardened, his brow fell, and a low rumble erupted from deep in the Minotaur's chest. His teeth bared in a snarl and he stood, flexing his muscles and clenching his fists. He glared at the woman who shied away from him, back across the room toward the archway. When he moved, she shrieked in fear and surprise at the speed and ferocity of his attack. The first panel of the mural was pierced and shattered by his horn, the image of the cruel king destroyed. Kasuma huddled behind a column and watched. The minotaur pulled his horn loose, then gave a short burst of a roar at the ruined picture, then punched it for good measure, sending pieces flying and splintering away. He turned to look at her, then stabbed an angry finger where the king had been and shook his head. He walked along the wall a few panels down. In this one, the king appeared to be gloating, surrounded by all his women, his treasures, his servants, his... The Minotaur placed a gentle finger on the mural, on a small figure standing next to the king who wore a thin gold band around his head. "You were the king's son?" He nodded, Yes. "And this isn't your punishment, it's his!" Yes. He shambled back to the slab and resumed his seat, head hanging low. Her heart ached for the Minotaur, the young man cursed by the gods to wear this form and live in this underworld of loneliness and death. She used to think she was the most pitiful creature on earth, but now that thought made her feel selfish. "How long have you been here?" The beast shrugged. He held his hands out, wide, wider, as wide as he could. A long, long time. She longed to go to him, to comfort him, but what could she do? She had nothing to give, no wisdom to impart, no hidden knowledge of hidden beauty in this dark realm. In the slave pens she had been good for only one thing... Perhaps that would do? He was, after all, mostly a man, and she knew about men. But how would he react? Had he ever known a woman? She found the thought of being his first oddly thrilling, and somewhat more than that. She pushed the helmet into the sand and moved to stand in front of him, just a few paces away. Then she began unlacing the rough cord that held her short vest closed. The knot came quickly apart and she let the dirty cloth fall to the ground. She pushed the rough skirt down off her hips and kicked it aside, then stood naked before the Minotaur. His eyes showed shock, fear even, and desire. He devoured her with his glittering ice blue eyes. Kasuma felt powerful. Naked and armed only with her womanly charms, she felt in control as she never had. She moved toward him, making him visibly more nervous with each step. When she touched his knee with her finger he twitched, panic in his eyes. "You saved my life. You set me free. You nearly died for me. Now let me do something for you." She reached between his legs, under the ragged cloth of the tunic and down further to find out how much of him was a man. What she found was more than manlike. He was long and thick, more than any man she had encountered, and at her touch it lurched. She lifted its bulk and felt it grow larger and warmer. With her other hand she reached for the cloth and almost had her first look, but the Minotaur jumped away from her. He scrambled backwards across the slab and found his feet on the other side, holding a hand down over himself. No, he swung his head side to side. No. "Don't you want me? Am I not good enough?" Her self esteem plummeted. Was she too ruined, too spoiled even for a monster? Tears began to well up in her eyes and she felt great wracking sobs threaten to overtake her. The Minotaur vaulted back to her and fell to his knees next to her in the sand. A gentle hand held her face close to his and he struggled to make himself understood. He pointed his snout at her and nodded, his eyes flickering between hers and searching for signs that she understood. He traced a finger down her cheek, her neck, down to her breast. But he snatched his hand back, becoming agitated. "I don't understand." "Grrrrrawph!" A frustrated noise burst from his lips. He leaned back from her a bit and looked around his lair for a moment. He held up both hands, flat toward her and making a patting motion downward. Stay here. He rose and ran out of the room. In a moment she heard a clatter of metal, as if an animal were loose in a giant kitchen. She wondered what clutter he might have down here to make such a noise. Quickly he returned. In his hands he held a shield, round and stout, wide planks of wood banded in metal. He rapped his knuckles on it and it gave a solid thunk. He approached Kasuma and held it out to her. "It's very heavy," she said, struggling under its bulk. He nodded and took it back, then stepped away. The shield splintered and shattered, the metal banding twisted and popped its rivets, and with one massive flex of his shoulders the Minotaur destroyed it utterly. He came back to her, again on his knees to bring their faces together. He flexed his awesome arms in front of her, then held them out in supplication. "You are strong." Yes. "You are worried that you will hurt me." Yes. She smiled warmly at him. She felt foolish for doubting him now. She held out her hand. He put his in hers. Well, on hers. She stepped back, pulling him to his feet, and moved him back to the slab. She pushed him and made him sit once more. "You could hurt me. But you won't." She reached for the rope belt he wore and tugged at the knot holding it together. The rope was old, coarse and dry, but quickly enough it came loose. She peeled away the fabric coverings and in the strange glowing light she beheld him. He was enormous, long and beautiful. She wrapped her fingers around it and lifted, feeling its weight and heft. She moved her hands forward and back, gently stroking him. The great beast leaned back and moaned, a deep lowing rumble that filled the cavern with the sound of need and desire. It grew at her touch, longer and thicker and heavier. She pulled the skin back from the head and stroked its soft, tender surface with a gentle finger. He shuddered and moaned again. Her own desire began to manifest itself between her thighs. She had always before been taken by stronger men, used as they wished. Now, she held the strongest creature she had ever known in her hand, and he was hers. Her confidence swelled just as the organ in her hands. He was trembling, his great muscles twitching below his skin and making him shudder. Sensations flowed through him that he had never known, but the dormant human need grew within him rapidly at her touch. When he was ready, she stepped up onto the slab, one foot on each side of the sitting Minotaur. She reached out and grabbed the tuft of a beard under his chin and pulled him gently forward until he was sitting upright. His nose was between her heavy breasts and his eyes were just below hers. His senses were overwhelmed. His nostrils twitched and snuffled, taking in her scent, while his eyes darted between her face and her breasts, not sure what he was supposed to do. She held his face in her hands and leaned down to kiss him lightly on the nose. She steadied him and held his gaze. "Be still. Let me do this." She reached up and put a hand on one of his horns, then lowered herself. Her other hand found him and brought him to her opening. She took a deep breath, then began to settle her weight on his enormity. She was surprised at the strength of her own desire; she was terribly wet and her fluids eased his passage. She gasped as the head slipped in. She was already more full then she had ever been, but her lust grew by the moment and she knew she must continue. He moaned, more plaintive now, his need more immediate and dire. What started as a gift to him became a need for her. It had never been like this before, in any way. She lowered herself more, moving her hips forward and back, left and right, just enough to slowly descend on his magnificence. She lifted her other hand to hold him by the other horn and she held herself up, face to face with her lover. Her eyes were closed in concentration but he watched her intently, completely overcome with the sensations she gave him. Left and right, forward and back, another inch passed her lips. Left and right, forward and back, her knees bent a little lower. Left and right, forward and back, she slowly engulfed him. Left and right, forward and back, until finally it was done. She let her full weight land upon his manhood. As she descended she felt his shuddering, rumbling groan vibrate through his body. She sat in his lap, impaled and delirious, hands still hanging from his horns. Her body was wrapped so tightly around his enormous intrusion she felt like she might burst. She wondered if his climax might actually kill her, and found she barely cared. She pulled herself up a few inches, then let herself fall. They cried out together in pleasure and pain, both of them travelling paths unknown. Again she lifted herself, feeling her skin grip him tightly. Again they cried out, again and again, filling the eldritch labyrinth with such noise as it had never heard. When his moment arrived, he roared. He let loose a sound no man or god had ever heard, and in the city above him, the city built by his cruel and terrible father hundreds of years before, he was heard. Stones cracked and walls shuddered. Men and women stopped in their tracks. Children ran to their mothers. In the great arena, combat stopped and every eye went to the yawning maw of the pit. He sounded so near, so powerful, so primal and savage, that the gladiators dropped their weapons and ran to the gates of their pens, begging to go back to their cells. If ever any citizen of the great capital city had thought the beast below a myth, they never would again. Kasuma collapsed in his arms, exhausted and spent. His seed erupted from him in wave after wave, filling her instantly and flowing out in great streams. He had not hurt her, as she knew he wouldn't. His heat spread through her body, his scent filled her head, his broad hairy chest tickled her face. "Lift me up," she said softly. His hands wrapped around her torso below her breasts, and slowly he lifted her off of him. She still couldn't believe his size and he seemed to slither out of her for far too long, but finally he fell out and landed in a puddle of his issue with a loud splat. She giggled at the sound. "Lie back. Just let me rest." He did, and she lay atop him, his thunderous heartbeat a tender lullaby. His chest made a far better pillow than the slab. She slept. She awoke with a start. Had there been a noise? A scream, perhaps? Or was it a dream? The Minotaur still lay below her, his arms wrapped gently over her naked body, but he was alert and awake. He moved her to the side, carefully setting her on the slab next to him, and rose. He looked odd. Bewildered, a little confused, a little...sheepish. She smiled at him and he smiled back, a bit more plainly and fully this time. She didn't even notice the bestial teeth anymore. He motioned for her to follow him and took a few steps toward the main archway. She got up and joined him and they walked down the hall. He jumped a bit, startled, when her hand slithered into his, but soon enough he learned to enjoy it. Out into the great round room they went, toward a single, small figure on the floor. As they approached, Kasuma could see it was a gladiator, fallen from the pit. The ones from earlier were gone, and this was the only body. "Did he just fall?" Yes. "Do any survive?" He held two fingers very close together. Very few. "What do you do with them?" Follow. He picked up the broken man, carrying him almost as he had carried Kasuma earlier. How long ago was that? She wasn't sure now. Time seemed very nebulous and unimportant down here. He headed off down a side passage and she followed closely, curious about their destination. It took many, many steps, but eventually he stopped. He laid the body down in the sand next to a metal shield. The shield was long and had a rounded bottom edge and was well worn from something. She soon saw what. The Minotaur began to dig with the shield, burrowing down into the sand quickly by heaving large piles out into the middle of the passage. While he worked, Kasuma looked around and noticed something on the walls. There was writing, a small cluster of symbols at regular intervals, stretching back the way they had come. Above the hole he was digging the wall was clean. "How can I help?" He sat back and looked at her, thinking. He reached over to the body and tugged at the ragged breastplate. "You want me to take his armor off?" Yes. While he finished digging the grave, she stripped the dead warrior of his armor, sandals and what ragged strips of cloth he called clothes. He had been a small man, weak and frail. He was just fodder for the real warriors. He was just a helpless slave like her. When The Minotaur was done, he lifted the body and tucked it into the hole in the sand, folding him up neatly into a fetal position. Then he filled the hole with sand, covering the body completely. When he was done, he picked up a small, damaged dagger that Kasuma had not noticed, lying in the sand where the shield had been. He scratched symbols into the wall, the dead words she did not know. But she understood enough. He was giving the man a decent burial, as well as he could at least. And now that she understood what the markings meant, she looked back along the wall and saw that he had been doing this for a very long time. This terrible beast, this fearsome monster, this horror of the deep that scared grown men, was nothing of the sort. He was kneeling in the sand, looking at her, his pale eyes searching her face. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "You are very kind." He hung his head a little, then shook it slightly. No, I'm not. "You are. You gave this man the only gift he has had in who knows how long. You showed him a kindness that is rare in the sunlight. They leave the bodies of fallen gladiators in the arena through the night. They release terrible giant cats to eat the bodies. In the morning there are bones and blood to remind the new fighters what they face. When the girls like me are hurt or sick or old, they don't even give us a weapon. They just feed us to the animals. You are kind." She moved closer and hugged him around the head. It was awkward with the horns and snout and all, but she found she enjoyed his dimensions. He was unique, and no woman in the whole of history could lay claim to what she had in her arms just then. He hugged her to him, and together they were silent and still for a time. "I wish I could repay your kindness. I wish I had some gift for you." He leaned back away from her, and made a motion with his hands, following the lines of her body. She smiled and blushed just a little. "Well, you have a nice gift too." She knew she couldn't see him blush but she had no doubt it was there. "I just wish I could do more." He cocked his head a bit and she felt like he held a special secret in his bright blue eyes. She thought she saw a smile on his rugged features. He reached out a thick finger and poked her very gently in the belly. "I don't understand." He put is palm on her tummy, almost covering it completely, then moved it out a bit, cupping his hand and making her look like she was... "No, I..." A wave of emotion overpowered her. Why did he want that? She couldn't give him that. She could never have that! "I can't, I..." She stumbled over her words as she stumbled away from him, unbalanced and hurt by this unexpected request. She had cried herself dry in the dark a long time ago over the babies she would never have; she had let go of her own needs and learned to live one moment at a time. But now she had to crush his dreams as well and she couldn't face it. "I can't!" She ran back down the corridor, back the way they came, but that was not escape. How could she escape this? How could she run from herself, from him, from her past, from what they had done to her? She fell, weeping on the ground, all the old wounds ripped open so easily. She never expected to care enough about another person to feel such deep despair and she was helpless under the weight of the emotion. She could run and run and run but never get anywhere down here. She could never escape. The Minotaur lifted her easily and cradled her in his arms as he had done before. Still she cried, unable to look up at him. She could feel him moving, walking, but she could not say or care where. She pressed her hands to her face as a mask of protection, so he could not see her, so she could not see him. The solace he sought to give her was as barren as her womb, a gift she could not receive. It only pushed her lower. He put her down on a cold hard surface, the slab he used as a bed, the place where she would fail him the most. Then he left. She curled up into a ball and wept. She felt like she might never stop. "Kha-ssshoo-ah." She ignored him. "Kha-ssshoo-ah!" His anger she could face, but she still couldn't bear to let him see her. The Minotaur SPLASH! She launched up off the slab as a squirt of searing cold water landed on her. The Minotaur laughed, loudly. She was completely paralyzed at that point; over excited, hysterical, wet, naked, crying, angry...she could not contain it all and she shut down. She stood in the sand, barely, weaving on unsteady legs as the great shaggy monster advanced on her. He sat on the slab next to where she stood and grabbed her hand. He tilted his head and brought down a fearsomely pointed horn, then pressed her hand against it, breaking her skin. Blood welled from the small puncture but she did not react. All she could do was watch. He lofted the water skin, still dripping from the hosing he had given her moments before. He spilled it over her bleeding hand, then wiped away the blood. What remained was healthy, unblemished skin. Untouched, unmarred, unmolested; pure. His glittering blue eyes bored in on hers, waiting. It didn't take long. "The water heals..." Yes. "It can heal...that?" Yes. "So, I can?" Yes. Almost as quickly as it had left, her resolve flowed back and refilled her. She was a little ashamed, once again underestimating her new lover, but more than anything she glowed with an inner flame with her newfound knowledge. She wiped away her foolish tears and looked up at the Minotaur. She noticed, of course, that he was still naked. And still amazing. "You know, if you really want that...we should probably do it again." That time she saw all of his wonderfully wicked teeth. Epilogue He was found wandering the desolate coast of the Eversea, just north of the great Bay of Hansekan. A fisherman pulled into a sheltered cove to hide from a passing slave ship, and there in the rocky tide wall was a body not long for this world. The fisherman took pity and pulled the dying man out of the water-carved hole where he had settled in to die. A bit of fresh water and a scrap of fish brought some color back into his face, but his mind was lost. Back on shore in the city, the fisherman took the wanderer to the clerics to see to his health. They tried their best, but he was too far gone. The words he spoke were obviously born of delirium. He spoke of his fight at the grand arena, how he had fallen down the pit and been snared by a war net, how he had cut the net to make a rope and managed to land alive and whole in the murky underworld of the dreaded Minotaur. All of that was easy enough to believe, apart from him winding up so far from the city. Everyone knew about the Minotaur under the arena. The Day of the Roaring was only a decade past. No, what marked him as mad was his assertion that the beast was not a beast, but a woman, tall and fair, with two children at her side. He said they escorted him out, treated him kindly, and gave him a magic potion to speed his way. It was sad, they all agreed after he died, that a man could survive the great arena and die in such a state of madness, though there were many who refused to believe he had actually been a gladiator slave at all. Everyone knew the fate that befell anyone unfortunate enough to fall into the lair of the Minotaur. The Minotaur and the Virgin The chiton pulled taut under her nubile young breasts as they chained her arms to the post in the center of the maze. As the monthly virginal offering to the Minotaur, she understood her role. She was here to please the beast, to slake his insatiable sexual appetite. She only hoped that would be the only appetite she would be slaking - what did Minotaurs eat anyway? She was desperately afraid, and the jeers and ribald comments of her jailors did little to assuage her fears. At last they left and she was alone. With her arms chained high above her head, her movement was restricted but she could still move around the pole to survey the leafy interior of the maze. Her long blonde hair tumbled down her back, only to catch on the rough wood of the post as she craned her neck to glimpse where the Minotaur would enter. Suddenly, he materialized. Her eyes widened as she took in his impossible size. He was at least half again as tall as she was, his chest and shoulders broad and rock-solid. His torso was that of a man, but his head... He had the head of a bull, with its wide nose and large liquid eyes and...horns. Huge horns sprouted from the side of his head and he shook them slowly from side to side as he scented her. The intelligence in his eyes was obvious and she shivered as he started towards her. She steeled herself to look down. His huge thighs were hairy and ended in hooves. But it was what hung between them that held her gaze in terrified fascination. Long and pendulous, his semi-hard penis hung like a third appendage, with large and furry testicles behind. It was shaped like that of a man, but its sheer size undid her. She began to struggle against her chains. The minotaur snorted its pleasure at her struggles. He approached slowly but solidly, planting each foot deliberately in the dirt. He had done this countless times, yet each month the ritual deflowering continued to excite him beyond belief. His penis was already hardening and lengthening, larger than that of a normal bull. He stroked it with his fist as he closed the gap. Her eyes showed white all around as he came close enough for her to feel his breath. She saw the way he clenched his cock in his fist, its purple head emerging as he worked the length up and down. His other hand came up and grabbed at her breast. She expected his touch to be coarse and perfunctory, like that of an animal. Instead, he caressed her, cupping the weight of her full breasts in his palm, gently teasing the nipple with agile fingers, finally tugging as the tip crested. Already breathing hard from her struggles, she stilled. Slowly the Minotaur lowered his bull head. A broad bovine tongue came out to gently lap at her breasts through the thin material. As the heat of his mouth contrasted with the cool air on the wetness, she could feel her nipples pucker with reaction. "Mmmmmm," she moaned, aghast at herself but unable to keep in the noises of pleasure. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all... As his hands continued to massage and play with her heavy breasts, he knelt in front of her. Pushing up her skirt, that tongue reached out to lap at the apex of her thighs and soon her Venus' mound was dripping wet with saliva and - something else. Slowly he coaxed her legs apart. The moment that broad lapping tongue touched the furrow between her legs, she gasped out loud. She could hear animal grunting issue from his bull's head as he buried his face in her cunt, suddenly lapping and sucking at her with a furious pace. "Aaaaah-" she bucked against the pole, straining against her bonds as her hips thrashed against the face of the monster eating her pussy out. The pleasure she was experiencing went beyond everything she'd been led to expect. She had feared being brutalized and raped, but here she was helplessly moaning and gyrating for the beast about to take her virginity. And she wanted him to... "Please," she whispered, "please make this torment end! Please take me, have me, do what you want with me!" And the Minotaur smiled. Reaching up to tug both nipples simultaneously, he stabbed his monstrous tongue past her hymen and into her vagina. Her moaning stopped abruptly at the pain of penetration, but as he waited patiently, still stimulating her gorgeous breasts she gradually began to respond again. His able tongue began to move gently inside her as he lapped against her inner walls. "Oh, God," she cried as the pleasure built. She was prepared for pain but not for pleasure and soon the combination of nipple stimulation and long slow strokes inside her overwhelmed her senses. She bucked helplessly against the Minotaur's broad nose. As the storm of sensation subsided, the Minotaur gently withdrew. His cock was painfully distended now, and he would wait no longer. Taking in the beauty lolling bonelessly in her chains, he suddenly ripped her chiton from her in one violent motion. Her voluptuous breasts, nipples red and distended heaved with the aftershocks of her climax. Her narrow waist tapered to full and round hips, with long legs still splayed carelessly. Before she knew what was happening, the Minotaur's broad chest overwhelmed her vision, and he pointed his throbbing member at her dripping slit. He rubbed it along the lips of her pussy, so sensitive now. Despite being proved so deliciously wrong, she felt a stab of apprehension. He was monstrous in size; long and thick and hot as he slid himself back and forth, back and forth. She looked up into his face but could glean nothing from the bull's face that looked down at her. Within moments she felt him begin to enter her. Gradually working the tip in, inches at a time, her sensitized pussy trembled. It craved him. Deliriously she began to whisper heated, foreign words, new on her tongue, that she'd only heard moments earlier from her jailors. "He's gonna fuck you good," one had said. "That monster's cock is the biggest in the kingdom, and he's gonna tear you apart." She was still afraid that the tearing would begin any moment, but she tasted the other word. "Yes, I want you to...Fuck...me. Put your monster cock in me and fuck me with it till I scream," she whispered wantonly. And the Minotaur heard her. Never had he heard such wanton words from one of his virgins and his fragile control was lost with them. He reared up and speared her on his huge bull's cock, impaling her against the post as he drove himself into her again and again. It was painful, but it was glorious. She wrapped her long legs around his furred buttocks, goading him on with honeyed whispers and fevered grinding. Her eyes glittered with awakened passion and she gasped as his massive chest crushed her. "Oh Christ, Yes!" she screamed. He pounded into her relentlessly, seed boiling in his balls until with a deep and animalistic lowing, his massive cock exploded in her and she creamed over and over again down his lovestick to drip out down her thighs and into the dirt of the maze floor. The Minotaur For what seemed like hours he licked and sucked and nibbled her nipples and breasts. Each one was a mini orgasm, and she could feel her nether regions swelling and engorging with delicious heat and lust. She could smell the musky scent of her own sex rising up, and obviously so could the beast...his nostrils twitched, he made a whuffling noise and began to work his way down her body. Her gown was tied with a complicated series of cords and knots, but the simplest way was to just pull it over her head. So with one swift movement she rose up and did just that. She reclined before him. Her weight resting on her forearms, legs spread and knees slightly raised. She wore no underthings...he returned to licking down her belly, curved and lush. Ever so gently he crouched before her, then sliding his hands beneath her soft white buttocks; he lifted her slightly and bent his head. That long tongue extended, and with the most exquisite tenderness...he licked. All along the meaty inner flesh of her tingling wet pussy. It went forever, a slow journey of delight. The tip of his tongue exerting just the right pressure, flicking up at the end around the hard nub of her clitoris. She almost exploded then and there, but he had only just started. She could hold her own weight no more, she lay back onto he furs, placing her arms behind her head, and she raised her pelvis off the bed, to give him better access. Suddenly he plunged the length of his tongue into her sopping passage. It felt like liquid fire going into her...it was sinking into her core...she lost all control, she thrust herself sky ward, into the heaven of his tongue, as a white hot orgasm ripped out of her and into her. She felt like she was levitating, held up only by the tongue. Her uterus and her pussy contracted over and over, and she could hear a long animal moan...then suddenly realised it was not the Minotaur, but herself making that noise. Finally her body could not keep her up any longer, and she collapsed back onto the furs, still quivering. The aftermath of her orgasm sparkled through her over and over. Like the little flashes of phosphorescence on the surface of the ocean on a moonless night. She still rolled with it. Ripples of sensation. After many minutes she began to ebb, a pleasant feeling of warm fullness in her pussy and womb. She opened her eyes to find the beast gazing down at her in wonder, as she gazed back at him. She reached down for the first time to feel her own pussy. It was wetter than it had ever been, and hot as the fires of Hades. The slightest touch twitched her back into orgasm. The Beasts hand covered hers, and then replaced it, he began to stroke her, rubbing a thumb along her innermost lips, and over her clit. She moaned again...feeling with amazement another orgasm building. Then he stopped and drew back, and she felt almost a sense of loss. But then she realised that he was crouched between her legs, that huge monstrosity of a cock held in on hand. For a moment she was terrified, never had she had anything so large, not even the carved marble dildos that she would pleasure herself with in the bathhouse. But she felt reckless, abandoned with lust and the multitude of orgasms she had already experienced. She reached down and held herself open for him, guiding him in. He paused, sliding the head of his cock along her pussy lips, gathering her slickness onto the head, the shaft. Lubricating himself on her own juices. When the slide home came, it was like pulling on a tight glove. She fit around him as if she had been made for it. He penetrated her to the hilt, and she felt as full as she had ever been. He was so hot inside her. Pulsing with his own life and godhead. Ever so slowly he began to move. Each slide, so slight, was the sweetest pleasure she had ever experienced. He moved within her as no lover ever had, and she had many...in her virgin's quarters in her protective, naive brother's house. She could feel the head of his cock at the opening to her cervix...almost as if he would go through it as well and into her womb. She moved and he moved a constant slide onto and off his cock. She felt suspended again, and recognised the rise of the white hot tide begin to roll through her once more. She arched back, tightening her belly muscles, and he gathered her up, holding her voluptuous weight effortlessly. She felt like a rag doll in his arms and he moved on her and within her. The spike of icy fire shot through her again, coming from somewhere deep beyond the end of his cock, and up her spine and through the top of her head like a javelin, she was dying, impaled on his cock...and it felt incredible. She was screaming her pleasure and he began to bellow with her. Thrusting more and more powerfully within her, riding her to orgasm and beyond it into another state entirely. She began to spasm around his cock, beneath him...hot gushes of fluid squirted and gushed around his cock as she came, and he came inside her...filling her almost to bursting. A hot tide that they had made together. And then she knew for sure, that she had been fucked by a god. The Minotaur's Meal I was running out of breath, I couldn't keep going like this. It was so close behind me. Too close. I knew what it wanted, what it was coming for. I had to fight, but it was so much stronger than me. And smarter than I had thought. It could have easily caught me by now, my only guess was that it wanted me to tire myself out so I couldn't fight. And even knowing that, I had to run, I couldn't give up just yet. The crashing in the bushes became closer, and I knew it was coming, and it would take what it wanted. Desperation made me push harder, digging into that last bit of strength I had -- and then I was falling. Brought down not by the beast, but by a branch on the ground. Before I could draw a breath to stand back up, it was on me. I felt its strong fingers digging into my sides as it hoisted me up and over its shoulder like a rag doll. I might as well have been, because I had no strength left, not even to fight. And I knew I would die soon enough. Its shoulder was covered in a soft fur, and I could see that its back and legs were too. It figured, even if it was part man, it was mostly beast inside this monster. I was slung unto the ground, lighter than expected from such a huge beast, and I got my first real look up at it. Human legs, human torso and arms, both hands with five fingers apiece. The only unusual things about it were hooved feet, a tail with a tuft of hair at the end, body covered with soft brown fur, and a bull head where a human one should be. It stood over me panting, looking like it wanted to pummel me into the ground. With a solid jerk he ripped off his loincloth, a small scrap of fabric that I was astonished could hold such a monstrosity. He may have stood at least eight feet in height, but the erect cock in front of him was at least fifteen inches long and three inches thick. I had no clue what he planned to do with that, but I hopped he waited until after he killed me. His hot breath fanned over my body as I lay limp in the middle of the clearing, the plush grass soft and cool on my heated back. My eyes jerked back open when I felt him tearing at my clothes, a simple pair of cotton breaches and a shirt hastily thrown on when I heard the noise from outside my chambers. And then I was naked in front of him, and I could not deny that this monstrous beast was indeed a he. My own cock was seven inches, just under half his size, and yet he seemed to be fascinated by it. His big meaty paw reached out and swamped my prick, pumping it in his hand with swift and sure strokes. He brought it to life in seconds, and within minutes I was panting and ready for release. Just as I was about to blow my load his beastly head came down and he clamped his mouth around my dick, sucking out every last drop of seed. I lay my head back for a moment, and then it was being forced forward. I opened my eyes only to stare in denial as he moved his body and pulled my head up, pressing on my cheek and jaw to force my lips open. No way could I fit him in my mouth, but that's exactly what he was trying to do. I tried to pull away, but he plunged his cock into my mouth, making me choke and cough, he didn't stop. He pushed and pulled until he hit the back of my throat, then pushed some more. I was gagging around this cock as it pushed on and on until I had him stuffing himself all down my throat. He paused once he was deeper than I thought possible, putting all fifteen inches inside of me. I thought it had been bad before, and then it got worse. He grabbed handfuls of my hair and with a bellow started shoving his dick in and out of my mouth, pounding his hairy hips into my face over and over, his balls slapping against my chin. I couldn't even push him away as he stretched my lips and throat wide. He literally face-fucked me, his big hands at the back of my head as he plowed his dick in my mouth, grunting and moaning, never slowing down. In fact, it seemed as if as the minutes rolled on that he was going faster, forcing himself harder into my already abused throat. With another loud bellow, his cock thickened impossibly and then I felt his cum shooting down my throat, searing a path into my belly. He road out his orgasm, thrusting a couple more times before pulling out of my throat, leaving me empty and abused. His cock slapping wetly against my face had me opening my eyes. I hadn't even noticed that I had dozed off. He knelt over me, reaching for something I couldn't see, but his hard cock was rubbing against my face, its smooth surface still slick with my saliva. Before I knew what I was doing, I was turning my head and kissing it. Practically making out with his cock. Above me I head a grunt, and then he was rubbing is dick all over my face as I kissed it, he pressed his weight down on my face and let me make out with it as he slowly shifted back and forth, grinding his dick down over my face and lips. It was the best taste, I couldn't get enough of it, I only wanted his cock. This was so unlike me, I had never craved any part of another man before, but after him forcing himself down my throat, it was like that was all I wanted. Him inside of me. After only five short minutes he got back on his knees, I started to make out with just the tip, but then he was pulling that away too. I cried out, but he only pulled back further, and then I was on my stomach. Something wet and rough and long slid over my ass. I looked back to him licking my ass, this tongue making rough sweeps before it slid in between. I let out a long moan as he focused on my little hole, then grunted when he pushed his tongue inside. That was the first time anything had ever gone into my ass, and though there was a little pain, it felt so good I didn't even care. Like his dick in my mouth, his tongue reached impossibly far and deep, forcing me open to him. He sat there tongue fucking my asshole for what felt like hours before pulling back. Then something else was poking me there, and before I could look back to see, I was screaming, tears rushing down my face, as he plunged all fifteen inches in. My ass felt like it was being ripped in two, but he didn't seem to mind it as he plowed into me. I was being filled to the breaking point, past the breaking point, this was too much. I was sure any second now I would tear apart. But I didn't. And then I was getting used to it. My ass no longer burning, just throbbing, then it started to feel good. I don't know how it happened, but suddenly he felt amazing, like my ass was made for his cock to pummel into. I shifted my hips back to meet each of his thrusts, feeling his heavy balls slapping against my thighs and knowing how full of seed they were. He continued to pound into me for ten more minutes before his cock thickened by at least another inch and his balls let blast after hot blast of seed into my ass, shooting deep and hard. It felt as if he filled my entire ass before he pulled out of me and flipped me over, but I guess he wasn't done, because after a few tugs on his own cock, he came again, shooting his hot cum over my legs and dick and chest, even over my face. When he had completely coated me in his cum, he grunted in what sounded like satisfaction and let his dick swing back down between his legs. Then he grabbed me by the hips and stood up, cradling me to his chest, his dick slapping my ass lightly, and started to walk. I fell asleep against his muscled torso before I could fully understand what had just happened.