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Archive-name: Fantasy/minotar.txt


Archive-title: Minotaur

     Once, there was a young warrior, who took his trusty sword and

ventured into a minotaur's cave to slay the dread beast, and take the

treasures that the immortal creature has acquired over the years of

tribute.  Armed, armored, and provisioned, the young warrior entered

the maze, wandered, mapped, and gradually came to the realization that

his map made no sense, no matter how he measured or re-measured it.

     Three days of research, of walking endless corridors measuring,

and his water begins to run low, as does his food.  Then, down a long

corridor, he sees a shape, the glint of ivory high upon it's head.

The minotaur!  He dashes, seeing the beast step out of sight, and

finds only a dead end.  However, the dead end contains a note; written

in odd script that somehow, the warrior can read.

     The note informs the warrior of his choices: The maze is magical,

and only the Minotaur can pass through it.  Remain determined to

fight, and the Minotaur will let him starve to death, and then take

his belongings and add them to his trove.  Surrender himself into the

Minotaur's service, by stripping himself of all his belongings and

walking far enough so that he can no longer see them; and the Minotaur

will accept him, feed him, and eventually release him, for eventually,

the immortal will tire of his pet.

     He ponders this another day, searching, attempting to reach the

'center,' trying to escape, but it is no use.  In his foolish pride,

he attempts to plot against the Minotaur, divesting himself of all but

his clothing and a cleverly hidden dagger, and walks away from his

fine armor and sword.  As soon as he turns a corner, he hears the

sound of ponderous hooves against stone.  Yet, upon turning, he finds

only blank wall, and no matter the passageways he takes, maddeningly,

none allow him any more than the sounds of the Minotaur gathering up

his belongings, and slowly walking off, unhindered in his own Maze.

     Time passes, and the young warrior is now without food or water,

and it doesn't take long to figure out that the Minotaur is not taken

in by his attempted ruse.  Conquering his pride, again he divests

himself, and now walks the maze naked, figuring that life with a

chance of possible future success is better than an ignoble death of

thirst.  Again, the maze shuts him off, and again he hears the

ponderous, heavy sounds of the Minotaur's hooves through the thin,

unyielding rock.  But this time, it would seem that the Minotaur's

desires are assuaged, for he hears the echoes of the hooves closer and

closer still, then further for a moment, and around the corner looks

up at what rough beast now owns him, eight foot tall or higher, with

black, short fur delineating his every line, and his head, fabled,

inhuman, with golden, undying eyes.

     A heavy, thick hand rests upon his shoulder, forcing him to his

knees, and a golden circlet, seemingly delicate, yet with imponderable

weight, closes about his neck.  Low, growled tones rumbling from the

Minotaur's chest order him to rise, and he dares not refuse the

strength before him; that locks his arms behind his back with chains

and bracers of beaten gold, chastened with platinum.  Bound, he is led

around three short corners, and enters the center of the Maze, the

Minotaur's abode.  Strange demense of cavern and garden, with millenia

of tribute from kings, warriors, philosophers, and aesthetes all


     He is taken to a large, satin, flat couch (no back) and lain upon

it, on his stomach, the Minotaur besides him large, and regal in every

line.  Reaching out from the couch, ponderous still but with the grace

of the inexorable, the Minotaur plucks a single grape, and feeds it to

his slave.  Then, a fragile crystal goblet is brought to his lips, in

the thick-fingered hands that could splinter stone as easily, and he

is made to drink.  Again, he is fed, and given only another swallow;

after his hunger, surfeit must not be rushed.  The Minotaur's hands

rest upon his shoulders, and trace his sleek, bound, warrior's lines,

testing them, hands large enough to encircle his ankles with ease and

spread them effortlessly, locking them apart with a bar no doubt also

of precious metals, cool against his skin.  Skin warmed by the

Minotaur's touch.

     The Minotaur moves to the head of the couch, where the warrior's

head lies over the edge, where he was fed by his Master's kindness.

Now he is fed again, as ten inches of sheathed cock is rubbed over his

face, and he is helpless to pull away, the scent filling his nostrils.

The bull penis telescopes and elongates, engorging as he is made to

taste its fleshy length, opening his mouth wide.  The Minotaur

instructs his slave in the proper usage of his tongue, and begins his

training in the opening of his throat, pressing against it, making

the young warrior feel and taste his power and size.

     Soon enough, and thankfully, the warrior's mouth is freed,

aching; his submission having brought the Minotaur to his complete,

unsheathed length, cock-head wet, and flaring wide.  Again, the

powerful hands trace his body, arranging him upon the couch so that he

rests upon his gaping, spread knees, the bar keeping his ankles wide

chained to his golden collar and his arms fastened in the bracers

behind his back.  His face rests upon the couch, and he cries out at

the feel of the thick, oiled fingers entering him.  Struggling only

pulls at unyielding bindings, and no matter how he tries to squirm,

grasp, and close himself; his legs remain wide, and the Minotaur

continues to oil and open his slave.

     Then, the flared, oiled cock-head of the Minotaur is pressed

against the young warrior's opened, readied anus, with the merciless

strength of the beast.  Pain shoots across the young warrior in waves

as his body is stretched to fit around the huge cock, and he screams,

again and again, until the breath is forced out of him by the width

and length pushing him open.  The great weight of his Master moves

relentlessly above him, the short black fur of the taut belly rubbing

his back as, with each stroke, the cock-head reams him to his depth

and his ass is pressed flush to the crotch of the beast.  His cries

slowly diminish to whimpers as the Minotaur's lusts fill him, time and

time again humbling him as the rock-hard flesh pounds into him, until

he can only use what strength remains to him to push back against the

hugeness that invades him, unable anymore to resist the sensations

that wash over him.  Finally, the Minotaur's flared cock-head

penetrates him completely, and the young warrior is skewered with the

geyserlike force of his Master's climax, each pulse rocketing into his

well-plumbed depths and driven home by the next brutal thrust.  Crying

and begging, covered with sweat, oil, and the provenance of the great

bull; the young warrior is released from the brutality of the bull's

penis, and the bar removed so that he could close his aching legs.

     Again, the warrior is handled, lain out by the strong, yet gentle

hands of the Minotaur, who lies him upon his warm, blackfurred chest

and stomach, reversed.  A rumble from the beast's chest convinces the

broken warrior to lick the come from the soft, fleshy, heavy length,

And the Minotaur, satisfied, allows his slave to sleep and recover,

held safe in his arms.


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