[2015] Dance of the Minotaur

by TC Calligari

  The Dance of the Minotaur

  T.C. Calligari

  © Copyright 2015 by Merry Elephant Publishing.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Cover Image Credit: Michael Tracey

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  Table of Contents

  Your Free Bonuses!

  The Dance of the Minotaur

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Deception in the Highlands

  Hunting For a Highland Husband

  Carnal Reconciliation

  Preview of Crossing the Line: Four Sultry Tales of Submission

  About the Author

  The Dance of the Minotaur

  Chapter 1

  Calathena danced, her chiton girdled high to reveal graceful legs. She leapt in time to the pipes, sistrum and tympan, twirling, pulled along in the music. The gods held her, Apollo, the shining one, and she spun to his movements as he called to her. She danced for the gods, unaware of people watching, only aware of the song, until the music ended. Bowed down on one knee, the sound of hands slapping knees and tables gradually registered in her.

  She kept her head bowed, humbled by such accolades that really only befit the gods. King Minos spoke: “Well done. Did I not tell you, Praxitales, that my dancers are the best in all the kingdoms?”

  “Indeed,” rang out Praxitales’ sonorous voice. “Perhaps I can borrow a couple of your dancers to train mine.” He laughed and Calathena glanced up, then rose and joined the other dancers. She ignored the feeling of being watched and moved behind a pillar. One of the girls handed her bread and cheese and she chewed thoughtfully, glancing over her shoulder.

  The kings talked, leaning against gilt chairs, eating grapes and drinking. But every once in a while, Minos looked over to the dancers, rubbing his glistening, oiled beard between two fingers.

  Calathena dried herself, feeling a cold shiver over her damp skin, and left for the entertainers’ quarters. They were next to the kitchens and other servants’ chambers, not far from the labyrinth. On some nights she could hear him bellowing, and the ringing of his hooves as he ran up and down, up and down, lost in a labyrinth that even Daedalus himself refused to enter once he had finished it. Calathena had stood near the great bronze doors, saddened by the lonely bellows, but had never entered, for those who went into the labyrinth, except for the guards, never exited.

  She stretched and dropped the sweaty chiton on the floor. After pouring some water into a basin she stepped in and sponged her skin off, her black tresses curling onto her shoulders. Her breasts felt firm, with a slight uptilting to the nipples, small but well formed. She moved the sponge in circles around her nipples as they hardened, then drew it down over her taut belly and between her long muscular legs. She moved her hand up and down, enjoying the thrumming sensation that moved out from her core. Some day she would give herself to a man, but not yet, not until the right one came along. As she sighed she heard an answering sigh. With a gasp, Calathena spun, one hand covering her breasts, the sponge over her pubic curls.

  A guard stood at the door, smirking, his smoky green eyes eating up the sight.

  “Get out!” Calathena snarled.

  “You’re only a dancer, sweet thing. Why don’t you dance with me?”

  As he moved closer, Calathena grabbed a linen shift and the pitcher of water. Clasping the cloth in front of her, she tossed the contents of the pitcher at him. “Get out. Now!”

  “Bitch.” He shook the water out of his eyes, wiping it from his face.

  “Yes. You finally got the message.”

  “Oh and I have one for you. King Minos wishes to see you after he has supped. But not to dance.” At Calathena’s look, the guard laughed and walked away. “I’ll get you later.”

  She stared after him, knowing nothing would happen while she remained one of Minos’s entertainers. But now as she dried herself off and put on a fresh and longer chiton, her heart thumped a little faster. What did the king want with her? She was afraid she already knew. He’d been eying her in a way that unnerved her, that spoke of a hunger she did not want to consider. Queen Pasiphae was jealously loyal, even after Minos’s god-defying error had caused Pasiphae's carnal indiscretion with the white bull. But all was not well in the palace of Minos.

  As she tied her sandals, Calathena sent a whispered prayer to Hekate, goddess of the pathways, to watch over her. A dancer could not afford to offend a king. She’d steered clear of the daughter, Ariadne, who had seemed nice enough but her royal whims could throw a servant’s life into turmoil. So Calathena did all she could do; she obeyed the command and walked from the servant’s quarters. Her pace slowed as she reached the main courtyard, but she inevitably arrived.

  The guard nodded her in and Calathena entered, her gaze lowered. Minos sat in his chair, not the one for court, but the less stately, gilt chair, with cushions heaped upon it. Calathena had always loved the fresco that covered one wall of the room; stylized lions and leaping dancers within an ornate wave border. She looked at it now, avoiding Minos’s gaze.

  He motioned her closer and she walked up, bowed and stood before him, looking down at her feet once more. “You’re my best dancer. How long have you been here?”

  Calathena cleared her throat. “Five years.”

  “Look at me.”

  She looked up, into the dark eyes of Minos. His hair and beard were immaculately oiled and curled. Still handsome, he must have been irresistible in his prime, with a strong straight nose, high cheeks and full lips. He had come to look haughtier with the years, perhaps an outward manifestation of the trait that had made him keep his best bull from Poseidon.

  Now he stood directly in front of her. She stared at his chest, afraid to look up. He wound his finger into one of her curls and moved closer. “You are beautiful. I could set you up in a residence and make you comfortable for all the rest of your days.”

  “I—I thank you.” She swallowed, not daring to move. A slight attraction had made her aware of his gaze from the first moment it had become more than strict appreciation of her dance. But it was something she could not and would not be part of for it would seal her death. Pasiphae guarded her royal prerogative absolutely and harshly. There’d been more than one person who had disappeared over the years.

  Minos whispered into her ear and ran his finger from her curls down to between her breasts. Her breath caught as a blush warmed her face.

  “Come to my bed and I will show you joys you have never experienced.” He kissed her before she could answer, his sensuous lips pressing firm against hers, his warm tongue prying her lips apart as his hand slid over her breast. Calathena had never felt such a strong yearning and an equal repulsion at the same time. She knew her
body was hungry for a man’s touch but it could not be this man. His hand slid lower, toward her already wet vulva.

  She gasped and stepped back, holding her hands up to ward Minos off. “No, my lord, I cannot.” His eyes pinned her, and she looked down.

  “You cannot or will not?”

  Calathena swallowed and closed her eyes. “I—I cannot. I um, I have not ever, and uh, your queen would not like—”

  “My queen? My queen! You dare presume that my queen would rule over me?” Minos’s chest expanded as he pulled himself to full height, his eyes flashing down upon her as his voice thundered over her. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down on the bench.

  Calathena struggled beneath the king as he pulled at her chiton, his other hand burrowing between her legs. “No, don’t. No!” She pushed to no avail, twisting until she got her strong legs close together. But Minos was stronger. Calathena managed to bring her hand up as Minos lifted his kilt. She clawed down, her nails digging into the flesh of his cheek.

  He bellowed and threw her to the ground, clutching his cheek. She had left a long red rivulet from cheekbone to jaw line. And though part of her felt good in having stopped him, she knew she’d sealed her fate.

  “Guards!” he roared and he glared at her.

  Never far from protecting the king, three guards ran in as he said, “You presume too much, servant. You could have had riches and a good life but you dare to tell a king his place.” Turning to a guard, he said, “Take her away. I believe the Minotaur has not eaten in a while. Let her be a plaything to one that more befits her station.”

  Calathena could not breathe as strong arms pulled her to her feet. The Minotaur. A terrible death, by savaging and dismemberment. The best she could hope for would be a swift twist to the neck. She heard Minos say as they pulled her away, “Make sure she is whole and conscious. I want her to appreciate the full attentions of one such as him.”

  Two of the guards snickered as they pushed her from the royal presence.

  Too stunned at such a sudden turn of fate from favored dancer to despised sacrifice, she nearly let them carry her all the way into the labyrinth. But a few hundred feet from the ornately gilded and brass doors Calathena realized that the guards had multiplied to six and that they were joking about her. Suddenly she spun out of their grasps and ran back through the hall. Though she made a good start and was a fast and powerful runner, the guards were warriors and she did not get far. Rough hands grabbed legs and waist, but still she punched and flailed, landing a good strong kick to one guard’s jaw and another’s groin, leaving him doubled over. But one fast punch to her stomach had her bent over and retching.

  They didn’t wait for her to gain her breath and stop gagging but dragged her toward the doors. The guard who had watched her earlier that night laughed to his comrades. “I think we’ll have a little sport before the Minotaur has his dinner tonight. Open the doors.”

  Dazed, bruised, bleeding, Calathena watched dully as two gatekeepers swung the great doors open. One guard each to a door, eyes alert and sword at ready. Two more lead the way in with their spears out. Then the other two brought her in while the first two guards followed. The gatekeepers locked them all in.

  Her heart hammered as she took in the size of the great room, darkened corridors leading off from the four corners. Above was a grate of wrought iron. From his courtyard above Minos had often contemplated the folly that lived below. Calathena’s gaze darted about, looking for ways out, for nooks, or handholds that led high off the ground. If she could lose herself in the maze, she might only die of starvation, rather than being eaten. But even as she struggled to look about her and break the iron grip that now bruised her arms, she realized the guards led her toward a low platform.

  It was stained, black in areas, a dusty red in others. Though of a polished wood, the grain held the history of its past use. At the base of the platform there were pits and rinds of fruit, a few skins of small rodents, and a bone or two. And a skull; a human skull. Calathena couldn’t breathe and backed away, or tried but the guards were resolute. She could not help herself and whimpered.

  “Our little dancer’s not so brave now, is she?” said the guard with the smoky green eyes. He smiled at her but there was no tenderness. “Keep a lookout,” he said as one guard still held her and the other four faced the four corners. He undid the pins holding her chiton on and dropped them to the floor. Then he pulled the damp fabric away from her sweaty skin.

  It was then that Calathena realized there would be worse than just the Minotaur. She spit at the guard and he backhanded her across the face. “Shackle her to the dais.”

  Naked, they spread-eagled her and bound her wrists and ankles with stout ropes, like the ones used to anchor the great ships. All she wore were her earrings and her sandals. Without hope, she pulled at the ropes holding her. The dusty green eyed guard leered at her and put his sword down. “I’ll go first. Then we’ll each take turns.”

  Warriors never take their armor off in times of danger and neither did this one. He reached under his leather spolas and the linen chiton to pull out his cock. He leaned over her and bit her breast, crushing the other one in his hand. He roughly kissed Calathena and she tried to bite him but to no avail. He grinned nastily and said, “I am going to enjoy this. Just think, if you’d been a little nicer earlier, I could have shown you a little kindness.”

  Trying to save every minute before the brutality, Calathena panted out, “Would you have saved me?”

  He laughed. “No. I can’t go against the king’s orders, but I might have been gentle with you and spared you the horror of the Minotaur with a quick death. But now, I’ll take my pleasure.” And with that he fell on top of her and dug around with his fingers at her vulva.

  She yelled then, in anger and fear, calling on the goddess of the crossroads. “No! Hekate, save me. Help me!”

  He pushed between her legs and just as she felt the bulb of his cock touch her, there was a bellow that shook the walls around them. Something thudded wetly and the guards were yelling. The guard astride her started to get up and Calathena saw a massive hand and the red glaring eye of madness. Then the guard’s head bounced across her naked belly and blood showered her. She screamed as she caught glimpses of the manbeast ripping apart the guard. She screamed and screamed and screamed until she saw oblivion.

  Chapter 2

  Calathena slowly came to as something rubbed over her. She could not remember where she was. Then in a wash of dread she shivered and opened her eyes. Her gasp stopped the great manbeast from what he was doing. The bull’s head looked up at her. His horns curved wickedly, glinting white and cream in the wavering light. Then, his one eye watching her, he began licking her again.

  She whimpered, not knowing when the first bite would come. But the great beast continued licking her legs and arms and even her face, which left her panting in fright. Did he taste her before the final rending? Was he full from his attack on the guards? She was too frightened to look around, at what she might see, at what might happen to her. But what could she do, still tied to the dais?

  The bite did not come, not yet. And still the Minotaur licked her. He was taller than most tall men, being well over six feet, and his shoulders were very broad. She could see that the silken coat like a bull did not end where his animal head did, but the great tawny hide extended over his whole body. It was thinner, softer looking than a real bull’s, and his head was smaller, proportioned more to a man’s body. But his hands, she noticed as one reached up to lightly touch her face. It had the same silky looking skin but only three large digits instead of five. The nails were a dark grey and resembled more the hooves of cattle. Hands that were not quite human and not quite animal.

  All this, Calathena tried to take in as her heart banged loudly in her chest, as she waited for the tearing to begin. Blood still coated part of her and as she lay waiting in dreadful anticipation she realized the Minotaur licked the blood carefully off her limbs and neck and face, h
is large warm tongue leaving her slightly damp. And then he moved down licking some more and Calathena had to lift her head to see where he had gone. But she knew for he now licked up the inside of her thighs, and behind her knees.

  She squeaked and tried to squirm away but all she did was reveal more areas where she stuck to the drying blood on the dais. And the Minotaur calmly licked up her legs, over her thighs and between. He licked into the cleft of her sex, where the guard had nearly raped her. And he licked in long, strong languid strokes up to her navel. Then he licked over her breasts and her nipples rose, the sensation changing from one of terror to a warming caress, nearly relaxing. Calathena tried to resist the mounting sensation, the vibrations that swam up through her very nexus. She shivered but not in dread as the warmth spread out from her vulva, quivering her belly. But it was wrong, surely, to be lying here about to be killed and feeling pleasure mingle in her nerves.

  The great bull head bobbed slightly as he licked up and up, longer strokes, gaining speed and pressure. He pressed into the labial folds and she arched up, feeling an exquisite tension build. Gasping, her body quivering, she tried not to think of the part-animal between her legs. Each lick held a small thrill of fear that this would be the one where he would bite. But he licked and licked until Calathena cried out, her hips bucking off the dais. Like a tidal wave, pleasure surged through her, shaking her, making her cry out and spasm as he sucked at her clitoral bud.

  As her thrashing slowed and her breathing quieted, Calathena kept her eyes closed. It was too much. In a day she had gone from a favored dancer, a virgin thinking about who she might marry someday, to outcast nearly raped twice, sacrificed to the Minotaur who had just licked her into the first orgasm given by other than herself. Her world had turned and twisted inside out and she did not know if she could absorb it all, if she would stay sane. So she lay trembling, her eyes closed to the Minotaur’s actions.