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 arrayed.

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.

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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, black furred 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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