She heard an enormous roar erupt from behind her, and the Minotaur’s whole body tightened up. With one final plunge into her sex, she felt the beast’s huge cock twitch mightily inside her, and instantly the sensation of burning warmth within her was all she felt as the monster of myth unloaded his broiling seed into her with shot after shot after shot.
Emily groaned and gripped at the ground, soil in between her fingers, one thought coursing through her mind: the beast was breeding her!
And then it was over. The Minotaur pulled out, and Emily cried out as she felt suddenly empty. What seemed like gallons of the Minotaur’s creamy white spunk dribbled down the insides of her thighs, and she looked over her shoulder to see the beast staggering backward, before it fell down, panting, cock still oozing ridiculous amounts of cum.
He began to change then, inverting, growing inward. The horns shrunk back into its head. The bull-face was replaced by a man’s face. She saw Jason formed out of the body of the Minotaur, and he was naked, chest heaving, looking at her out of terrified eyes.
“Emily,” he said, shaking his head. He put a hand to his mouth and cupped it. “Oh shit, no, no, what have I done?”
Emily rolled onto her side, curled up, and watched while he got up and ran to where he had flung her jeans, before sprinting over to her and wrapping his arms around her. He covered her lower half with the jeans as best he could, and kissed her hard on the side of her head.
“I’m so sorry, Emily. I could see what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t in control.”
Emily shook her head, panting still, sucking in oxygen. She was still coming down from the quaking force of her crisis, and everywhere on her body her nerves felt frazzled and over-sensitive.
Jason held her, lifted her head up onto his lap and wiped hair from her forehead, stuck there from sweat. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, running a hand down her face.
“No,” Emily gasped, shaking her head. “No, it wasn’t your fault.” She watched as he looked down her body, looked at her thighs and her abdomen. “What are you looking for?”
“Bruises,” he said. “To see if I hurt you.”
She swallowed. “You didn’t, Jason. Actually, you didn’t. It only hurt in the beginning when you…”
“When I first went inside you,” he whispered.
“But it didn’t hurt for long. Did you know? Did you know you were a Minotaur?”
“No!” he cried, shaking his head. “I had no idea.”
“I didn’t know shapeshifters existed.”
“Me, neither,” he echoed, his voice quiet.
Emily held his arm, and reached a hand up to touch his face. “You were quite gentle… I mean, for a brutish beast.”
“What now?”
“I’m so tired,” Emily said. “I’m exhausted. I don’t think I can move for a while. Hold me, yeah? Hold me while I rest.”
“Okay,” Jason said. “I’ll hold you.”
“Thank you,” Emily whispered, before being claimed by sleep.
EPILOGUE
“What now?” Emily asked, looking toward Jason.
“Well, for starters, I think I need to find some clothes.”
“That’s for sure.”
“And we need to get back to civilization. I’m starving.”
“Me, too,” Emily whispered.
They had slept through the sunrise, and the chirping insects and singing birds. From what she could tell, it must have been close to eleven in the morning when they woke, judging by the position of the sun.
“I’m so sorry,” Jason said quietly as they walked back toward the cave. The path they had taken was easy to find. They weren’t looking for breadcrumbs, but for the steamrolled and trampled vegetation the Minotaur had left in its wake.
“Don’t,” Emily said, touching his arm. He held onto her, and held her tight. “There’s no need to apologize anymore.”
“What are we going to do?”
Emily shrugged. “What else is there to do? We go back to the cave, see if the fossils are there. If not, then we go back home.”
“I mean… I mean about the baby I might have just put inside you.”
Emily stopped. “I’m not doing that-”
“No, no,” he replied softly, raveling her in for a hug. “That’s not what I meant. I meant, how are we going to deal with having a Minotaur kid.”
“I don’t know.” Emily sighed. “But we’ll figure something out.”
“It’ll probably take us all day to walk back into town.”
“We’ll pass a car on the way and flag it down.”
“What, with me being naked?”
“Someone will stop, Jason. Someone has to. We’re humans, after all.”
“Not me.”
“Yes you are,” Emily said, pointing a finger into his muscled chest. “Just, sometimes you’re not.”
They walked in silence for a while, back toward the cave, when Jason ducked down and pulled Emily to her knees. “Shh!” he hissed, putting a finger over his lips. “Listen!”
Emily turned her ears forward, and heard voices. “There’s somebody at the cave!”
“It might be Nimon.”
“Could it be anyone else? Military maybe?”
Jason scoffed. “Military? Why would he tell them?”
“Think there’s any danger?”
“I don’t know. Let’s find out.”
He set off with Emily in tow, and they pushed through the foliage until they saw the mouth to the cave. The voices were coming out, echoing from the inside.
“I hear two voices,” Emily said. “A man and a woman.”
“Who’s there?” Jason called into the cave entrance. He picked up a snapped-off tree branch, wielding it like a baseball bat.
When a couple emerged, hand in hand, the muscles in his body relaxed visibly, and he dropped the branch. “Who are you?”
“Who are you?” the man asked back. Emily saw that the young woman at his side was staring wide-eyed at Jason’s nudeness. “And why are you naked?”
“Um,” Jason stammered, looking down at himself. He turned to his side, ridiculously cupping his package. “Long story. You don’t sound Greek.”
“We’re not,” the man said. “We’re looking for somebody, and were told he might be up here.”
“That’s quite a coincidence,” Emily said, stepping in front of Jason to shield him from view. “Who is this person?”
“Um, a man named Michael Nimon. He owns a fertilizer business.”
Emily inhaled sharply. “Pamela?”
The young woman stared at her. “Yes. How did you know?”
“I have pages from your diary!” She reached into her pocket, pulled out crumpled up bits of paper.
“What?!” Pam cried, snatching the pages and looking through them. “It… it was stolen from me! On the boat.”
It all began to click for Emily. Nimon had orchestrated the whole thing.
“Did you see what’s in the cave?”
“There’s nothing in there,” Pam said. “Right, Dallas?”
“Right.”
“He took the fossil.”
“What fossil?”
“Of a Minotaur.”
“So you know they exist?” Dallas asked.
“She knows more than that, Dallas. She knows you’re one if she read all these pages.”
“I did.”
“Who are you, anyway?”
“We’re both journalists working with Wild Magazine. We came here because we were told by a man named Michael Nimon – the very same Nimon who you are after, I suspect – that there was a fossilized Minotaur.”
“And was there?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it now?”
Emily shrugged. “I don’t know. Nimon’s gone, and he probably took it with him. How, I don’t know. It was a huge slab of stone.”
“Great!” Dallas cried, throwing up his hands. “We just missed him. Why is your friend naked?”
/>
Jason stepped forward. “I’m a, uh, you know. Too.”
“Oh.”
The four of them stood awkwardly in silence before Emily broke it. “You’ve got a car?”
“Yes.”
“Mind taking us into town?”
“No. I’ve got some spare clothes for your friend as well.”
“I’m Emily, by the way. Emily Worthington. This is Jason Harris. It’s nice to meet you, Pam and Dallas.” She smiled. “Don’t be embarrassed that I read those pages.”
“Are you going to look for this Nimon guy?” Dallas asked.
Emily narrowed her eyes. “Why, are you?”
“Yes. I need answers.” He wrapped an arm around Pam. “We need answers.”
“Mind if we tag along?”
“No,” he told her. “The more the better. Let’s go find this son of a bitch.”
# # #
Bought by the Wolf King
The Wolf King’s Sex Slave
A tale of erotic werewolf romance by Francis Ashe
“This one’s sweet, supple, soft, and best of all, the daughter of some gentry who can’t keep up with his money!” The toothless auctioneer, with a mouth that sagged on one side shouted above the din of the crowd. “Bidding starts at twenty senti! Don’t let this one pass you by!”
A short flurry of bidding commenced and then settled when the price for my freedom reached forty senti. Looking out over the crowd, I noticed a few well-dressed individuals who were actually bidding. The rest just looked on, amazed at the spectacle, enjoying the parade of nude women on a stage.
Briefly, a tall, clean shaven man wearing colors as vibrant as the sun conferred with a short, fat man standing beside him. They seemed to be striking some sort of deal. He pointed to me and several other girls before both men shook hands and nodded.
“I’m buying her for eighty-two, the whole lot for a thousand. Theric will take the next one. You can stop the bidding now, there is no more competition.”
“I see, but there are other bid-”
“There are no other bidders. You will now stop the sale. You get eighty-two for her, and a thousand for the lot.”
Sweat beaded on the grotesque’s upper lip.
“Morzan is not interested in other bidders.”
“Morzan? Ah, yes, say no more. Sold!” The auctioneer, shirtless to keep cool in the sweltering Lotanese summer, slammed his gavel down on a block of wood. I winced at the noise, truly afraid for the first time in my life. “Sold to the curiously dressed Easterner for eighty-two senti. I hope you enjoy! She’s a perky one. Sure to please! What are those clothes you’re wearing? Zoran?”
“I’m sure she will,” the golden skinned man who assumed the podium to inspect his purchases curled his lip in disgust when the auctioneer spoke to him. He neglected to answer the second question, but his accent was all the answer anyone needed. Golden studs, diamonds and rubies accented the lines of his powdered face, and the leather thongs crisscrossing his chest squeezed his trim muscles, made them bulge. “Anyway, they’re not mine. Take them to Morzan’s holding area. We leave out early. Don’t waste my time, talking, auctioneer. Your breath smells like a three-day long drunk.”
A rough, leathery hand grabbed the rope between my wrists and yanked me down from the podium where I was exhibited to a huge crowd of lechers, courtesans, messengers from faraway kingdoms and curious city dwellers. When my feet hit the pavement, a scratchy tunic was wrapped about me, and the man with the glittering face barked a command in a tongue I did not understand.
I sat, and did my very best to avoid looking at anyone else. All of us were in the same desperate situation – sold to the king of Zor. Truth be told, all I’d heard of Zor were stories in children’s books. It was supposed to be a winter kingdom, the ground covered in snow all year round, and for six of the twelve months, supposedly the sun never rose.
“If you’re going to be a king’s slave, best to be a slave to Morzan,” the gawk-mouthed auctioneer said as I shuffled along the cobblestones. “He’s rich, he’s powerful, and I hear he’s got an enormous cock.”
I squinted at him, not believing what he’d said. The last thing in the world I cared about was the size of some king’s endowment.
As we wandered back to the small apartments where slaves waited before being shipped off for the final night before beginning the journey East, my thoughts drifted back, away from the heat and the sweat and the cramped wagon to a time when I was free, when there was no fear, and life was easy, sweet and carefree.
***
The whole house smelled of cinnamon, cloves and honey. My mother’s honey cakes, still steaming from the oven, sat on the windowsill. When I walked past and sniffed, somehow, one of my hands ventured a little too close to one of the buns that had popped open. Cherry filling ran down the side of the plate. We ate well, and we lived well. Well enough, anyhow. My father wasn’t a rich man, but he was landed, so the fact that I was past twenty and unwed was a little curious to most of the people around the village.
“Hey! I was just gonna clean up that little splotch!” I yanked my hand away when my mother swatted me with her wooden-handled spoon.
“Jovena, Jovena, sweet little girl. When are you going to find yourself a man and bake your own honey cakes? I need a granddaughter to squeeze and hug and spoil.” She drew her face into a broad smile, her eyes closed like half-moons. She pinched my cheek and sighed.
“You seem worried, mama, what is it?”
“Oh, dear, it’s nothing. I’m just worried about you is all.” She smiled again, but I could tell there was more behind it that she was not letting on. “You’re well into your twentieth year and you work far too hard. You’re a pretty thing. You should be a wife, a mother, and all those things. You shouldn’t spend your whole life on your father’s farm, slaving away.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “He needs the help. The crops keep getting worse, but some day things will turn around and I’ll be able to go off on my way. And anyhow, you know I don’t want to settle down into some other farm somewhere else and get fat with age. I want to see the world.”
“So did I, dear girl. So did I.” She looked out the window for a moment at the corn stalks blowing in the wind before grabbing one of the cakes, breaking it, and handing half to me. Her eyes and her thoughts seemed far away. “But things sometimes don’t work out the way they should, you know. And it’s no one’s fault.”
“You’re worrying me, mama. What is wrong?”
“Oh, Jovena,” she sighed, “really, it’s nothing. Your father is having trouble with the crops again. He’s panicking. You know how he gets.”
I nodded. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, no,” she patted my hand and broke off a chunk of her cake. “Not for you to worry about.”
A few hours later, papa came home and looked terrible. His hair was a mess, his face was red, like he’d run the entire way from our little farm to the city and back. I peeked out of my bedroom door when I heard him come in, but something told me to stay back and listen.
“Ah! Mama!” He shouted as he collapsed into a large, hay-stuffed chair. “Bring papa some wine. It has been a long day.”
“Where have you been, Peter?” She poured him a cup. I’m not sure why he called the stuff ‘wine’ because it was really just a very potent beer. During good years, he bought wine as well, and didn’t call it ‘beer’, so the whole thing rather confused me.
“I went to the city, to Lotan. I had to talk with the man who I buy seed from.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Mmm, the wine is good,” he said and took another swallow. “Wine is good, but news is not.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, the price of seed is up. Both for cabbages and for the grass I feed the sheep. Corn is still cheap, but that gives the animals dyspepsia. It’s all just so expensive, mama. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
My mother twisted a little knot in the strin
g hanging down from her bonnet and stuck it in the corner of her mouth the way she always did when nerves overtook her.
“Whatever it is, we’ll figure something out. We always do.”
“Ahhh, yes, mama, we do. This time though, I’m not so sure. The price has almost doubled from last year, and the harvest was just no good. Unless I borrow the money, or do some work for Jelin the merchant, I can only buy enough for a quarter of the field this time. If that happens, it doesn’t matter how well we do. We’ll lose some crops to weather, and so we have – what – an eighth of a harvest? We’ll be sunk next year for sure.”
He raised his cup for my mother who filled it up again. She chewed harder on her bonnet string.
I felt my heart almost break as I listened to my father talk more and more about the work this Jelin was to require of him. Smuggling, a big cut of the harvest, it all seemed criminal. I sat there, listening, and ran my tongue over the front of my teeth. I couldn’t let such things happen to the man who raised me, who cared for me every day and taught me everything. But, no plans came to mind.
I could go to work, but – no, what would be the point? I have no way to get around, and he needs me here. Besides, who would hire me? And what could I do? I’m just a farm girl. What on earth good will that do me?
Papa finished his ‘wine’ and set the cup down on the table beside his chair. It made a little clopping noise as he rolled it around, letting it rock and settle.
“Maybe it’s just time to sell the farm, ah? Move in to the city. Lots of work in Lotan, maybe I could try being a merchant or a priest.”
Mama giggled at him.
“I think you have to do more than just be a priest, dear. But merchant, I can see that.”
“Daddy, you are not going to be a merchant! Or a priest! You’re a farmer, that’s what you want to be, right?” I couldn’t take it anymore, so I stormed out of my little room. “That is what you want, isn’t it?”
“Oh and here I was wondering where little Jovie was at. Silly me!” Papa smiled his big, broad, mustachioed smile. Behind his crinkled eyes, I knew he was upset. “You’re right though, little girl. This is where I belong. Here on the land my father farmed and his father before him. It makes me knees hurt to be in the city.”
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