“Our child is dead, Minos,” Pasiphae cried, holding onto the massive body of her monster child.

That beast is not my child, Pasiphae,” Minos corrected sternly, “You know that to be true.”

“You are responsible,” she argued, “If you had only sacrificed that bull, Poseidon would not have cursed me.”

“What is done cannot be undone, my queen,” he conceded, “But I will not mourn the result of your sin.”

“My sin? You know I had no control of my desires.”

He knew he had spoken amiss but simply turned his head away and waved his hand in dismissal of her anguish. Pasiphae knelt over the bloody body of her departed child. “If Minos had only kept his promise to Poseidon,” she breathed. Heracles had stolen the bull that Poseidon had gifted years ago but the curse had never been lifted. “Why didn’t you sacrifice that damned bull?”

“Why?” Minos growled, “Why do the stars shine? Why does the river flow? That monstrous thing you embrace was a direct result of,” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. It was an embarrassment then. It was still painful to remember. 

“Of your disobedience,” she said, finishing his sentence.

At the instruction of the Oracle, Minos had Daedalus, his chief designer, and carpenter and the one who built Pasiphae’s unholy wooden cow, design and build a massive labyrinth to hide the creature. So many lives were lost to feed the bastard child of his wife’s unnatural desires. 

Pasiphae stood to her feet, her gown blooded from the corpse, “I’ll not let this be the end. You blame me for this though you know it the result of you disobedience to Poseidon. You haven’t touched me since,” she sobbed.

“What will you do, Pasiphae?” Minos asked.

“I will consult the Oracle,” she answered, “I will seek a witch. I will appeal to the gods. I won’t let him die this way. Of all who are to blame, he is not the one.”

Minos was embittered. Frustrated, he tried to stop her, but it was too late. Pasiphae stormed out of the labyrinth, leaving the king and the body of her dead son, the Minotaur.

Minos, to assuage the anger and ease the pain his queen suffered, immediately ordered the construction of a tomb for the Minotaur. It would be an enormous undertaking. A marble tomb with the inscription, “Asterious Minotaurus The Great.” The marble would be white. A color the Crete’s desired to symbolize purity. Minos ordered that there would be a black streak slanting through the inscription. That to symbolize his abhorrence of the monster. A great alter was constructed at the entrance for sacrifice.

He was embarrassed at how his wife had been cursed by Poseidon because he hadn’t sacrificed that bull. That damned bull. Try though he may to keep his queen’s abominable curse hidden, word spread like wildfire. He had to face the scandal. 

Pasiphae, however, would not be assuaged. She did as she stated. She sought the help of the witch, Circe, her sister. Together, they summoned Poseidon, god of the sea, and the one who had gifted Minos the bull as well as cursed herself for his disobedience. Dancing and screeching, they tore at their clothes, begging the attention of the pagan deity. The seance lasted a full year. A god works on his own timetable.

Finally, naked and exhausted, the sisters fell into a trance. Unable to move nor speak, they were lifted from the earth and taken to Poseidon’s court. A great crowd was gathered in the undersea throne room. 

“Pasiphae,” thundered the ruler of the deep, “Why do you trouble me with your groaning?”

“My lord,” petitioned the immortal queen, “Because of the curse that you cast upon me for of the actions of my husband, Minos, King of Crete, my king has hated me. The child of my curse is dead, slain by Theseus the Athenian. The child I bore and loved, is now gone. My grief is more than I can bear.”

“You were cursed, truly, as you say, for your king’s sins. In my anger at him, I cast the spell upon you. I sought to punish him through you. And his punishment was great. I can see your hurt and grief are great as well,” declaimed Poseidon, “What do you desire of me?”

“Oh, great Poseidon,” began Pasiphae, “That my husband’s desire burns as strong for me as mine did for the cursed gift. That my son dies not for my king’s sin against you. That Asterious should be remembered not as a monster, but worshipped as my beloved child.” 

Poseidon stood from his coral throne, slamming the tail of his scepter onto the ocean floor, “Pasiphae, as you bore the mighty Minotaur,  so shall one be chosen to bear the seed of Asterious Minotaurous The Great. She will nurse the offspring at her breast as you did the offspring of the curse. This day, I declare that Minos, king of Crete, will desire you and ravage you.” 

“All hail Poseidon,” came the roar of the gathered crowd. 

With a touch of his finger to the nether parts of Pasiphae, her pubic hairs fell away, never to grow again. “Bring the firebrand,” bellowed Poseidon. 

Instantly, there appeared a blue dolphin carrying a white-hot branding iron. Taking it, Poseidon pressed the brand above the split of the queen’s sex, leaving the symbol of the bull. “Know ye That the symbol of the father of the Minotaur will forever guard your womb. I have spoken.”

“All hail Poseidon,” shouted Pasiphae through the tears and pain of the brand.

Upon returning to Crete, Pasiphae visited the altar at the tomb of the Minotaur. Upon the harvest moon of every seventh year, a virgin was chosen from the population of Athens to be sacrificed upon the altar. The first year, Pasiphae wielded the dagger of sacrifice. 

“Ms. Jan,” called a student from the back of the classroom, “May I be excused?”

Jan Stein was a professor of Greek history and mythology at the University of London. A beautiful woman, she possessed the face of an angel and the body of a goddess. Never having married in her forty-four years, the rumors flew. Some claimed that she was a lesbian. Another, that she was cold. Some said she thought she was just too good for the men of London.

In truth, she just never desired the attention of a man, let alone another woman. No, she was no lesbian. Neither was she a cold loner. The fact was, she felt that there was something special in store for her life. Almost as if she were born for one particular purpose. 

“Is everyone ready for summer vacation?” she asked her class of thirty-two students.

Everyone was excited to be going home or on holiday. Several told of travel plans and people they wanted to visit. Seeing girlfriends and boyfriends. One student asked, “Ms, Stein, what do you have planned?”

Enthused, she told them that she had been planning and saving her money for the last ten years to visit Crete. How she had almost longed for her chance to visit. How this year was the year dedicated for the seven-year sacrifice. She told of the ruins and the places of the gods and the tombs of the kings and queens. 

“What is the seven-year sacrifice?” The same student asked. 

Jan explained how the tradition began with Pasiphae’s visit with Poseidon. How she was the very first to sacrifice a virgin at the alter, which still stands in front of the tomb of the Minotaur. She told them of the dagger, the original one used by Pasiphae.  It had been preserved and was on display during the ceremony. It was pure gold and over seven thousand years old.

She told them she was so excited to be present at the ceremony, albeit staged now. There would be no true human sacrifice. That hadn’t been done for over three thousand years. There was a hint of disappointment in her voice at that statement. 

“Has the tomb of Minotaur ever been opened?” asked another of her students.

“No,” replied Jan, “The people of Crete are very superstitious of their gods and artifacts. They will never allow that.”

After a long discussion, the class was finally dismissed. The day was done, and the school semester over. Jan had three months off. There was time for only one thing before she went home to get her luggage and head to the airport. The dress. She had to pick up her dress. 

At the tailor shop, she undressed in the changing room, down to her underwear.  Two ladies entered, one carrying the dress, a traditional royal Crete gown that was to be worn only to the sacrifice. The other woman carried the shoes. 

She had spent a year's salary on the attire. More than she could afford, but this was her once-in-a-lifetime vacation.

“Ma’am, this is a traditional gown,” the seamstress said, “It is to be worn without underwear. If you please.” 

“I uh, I just thought,” Jan stuttered.

“To make sure everything is properly tailored,” the lady smiled, “I need you to wear it correctly. I must insist that you remove your bra and panties.”

Jan nodded after swallowing her modesty, unhooking her bra and dropping it on the chair she had just occupied. Next her panties. She slid them down her slim thighs to her knees, hooking them with a thumb, she pulled them off one pretty leg then the other, depositing them on her chair also. 

She stood, her thick bush of red pubic hairs hiding the sweet virgin treasure between her legs. The seamstress smiled and held the flowing gown out to her. Jan slid one shoulder under the silky frock then the other. The lady crossed the two strips of sheer white silk, just wide enough to cover most of each breast. The material, trimmed in gold piping, was tied just below her breast with a  sash of red silk. It was wide enough in the back to cover her beautiful buttocks. The front however hid nothing. The two strips dangled under the sash, revealing her pretty hips and her auburn bush.

Jan looked at herself in the mirror, astonished at how little material twenty thousand pounds bought.  The garment was luxuriously tailored, soft, and cool to the touch. 

The other lady placed a golden garter belt on her waist, clasping it in the back. “Now the shoes, Madam,” she said, looking up with a smile. 

She placed one golden sandal on an ottoman, patting it as to call Jan’s attention. Picking up her foot, she slid it into the sandal. There were two golden ribbons, each an inch wide, affixed to the back of the shoe. The lady wrapped Jans's long leg, crisscrossing in the front and back all the way up to the clasp of the garter, securing the streamers. After repeating the process on her other leg, Jan was dressed. 

Looking in the mirror, her shyness melting away, she smiled at what she saw.  After modeling the gown for several minutes, Jan dressed in her clothes as the ladies packed her gown and shoes. Paying the final installment, she left the store and drove to her apartment, contemplating the fact that she would be wearing such revealing attire in public. She had never even thought to do something so brazen. Even now, it felt like she was doing it at someone else’s request. Jan felt that she must be obedient to the request.

All her luggage in the trunk of her Volvo, her next stop was the airport. London Stansted to Heraklion is a four-hour flight. Enough time for a good nap before her arrival in the Greek Mythology capital of the world. But sleep never came for Jan. She was just too on edge, anticipating the excitement of the festival.

The festival of the sacrifice would last the entire two weeks. The first week would be filled with theatrical renditions of the abominable conception and tragic life of the monster, Minotaur. The streets would be filled with people from all over the world, dressed in period costumes, much like the gown she spent her savings on. Debauchery was going to be normal and accepted. She had read of public nudity, of sex in public of the magnitude of an orgy of Caligula Caesar.

None of this would deter her from her quest. She surprised herself at the thought, “Quest?” She wondered what awaited her. She wondered what she was searching for. She heard the announcement from the captain that they would be landing in a few minutes, how he hoped that they had enjoyed the flight. The four-hour flight seemed to pass in only scant minutes. Jan hoped that she would sleep tonight.

She decided when she booked her vacation to stay away from the large tourist hotels. Instead, she reserved a hostel with an elderly couple who rented their spare bedroom to visitors to their island. Not only did she get to experience an authentic Cretan family and home, but real Cretan food. She knocked on the front door after paying the taxi driver. An elderly woman opened the door and introduced herself as Hera. Her husband would be home late. After showing Jan to her room, Heratold her that dinner would be ready in an hour.

Jan busied herself unpacking and putting her things away. She made use of the dresser and closet. Not surprised that she did not have a private bathroom. It was a small house and only had one. She was welcome to bathe and use the facilities anytime she liked. She was surprised though, that there was no door in the bathroom. “Oh well,” she thought, “I’m not in London. Am I?”

“Time for a bath,” Jan said to the mirror, “You look tired. That just won’t do when you find what you are here for, girl.”

She gathered her toiletries and walked the eight steps to the water closet. She took it in with a smile. The toilet consisted of a bowl mounted to the floor and a tank mounted to the wall above the head of the person seated. The tub was of cast iron. While with claw feet. It was shorter than a standard tub of London which was usually five feet long. The Cretan version was only about four feet long. Long enough to sit in but not lay in. 

Thank goodness there was hot water. As the tub filled, Jan pulled her skirt and blouse off and sat on the antique toilet to have a pee, removing her bra and kicking her panties from her toes.  She smiled again at the small tub, filling with steaming water.

Running her fingers through her auburn hair, she noticed a symbol above the beam of the doorway. It was the sign of the bull. Minotaur was worshipped by some in this country. Especially in this area. The Altar was only a few kilometers from where she sat naked.  She studied the symbol, the longhorns atop the wide brow of the beast. Its broad, heavy shoulders decried strength. 

She reached over, turning the water off, unable to take her eyes from the symbol. Brought back from her trance by Hela, "I brought you some fresh towels.”

Jan put her arm across her breast, hiding them in surprise. 

“I’m sorry to have startled you,” her host said. 

Shaking her head with a tired smile, Jan dropped her arm, her modesty still clinging to life. “It’s okay, I was just hypnotized by the Minotaur above the door.”

Hela turned to see the symbol, uttering an old Greek prayer that Jan didn’t quite understand. She spoke the language, mostly, but some of the religious phrases had so many meanings. Hela turned back as Jan stood, trying to figure out how to flush the toilet. “Minotaur is our guardian against evil.”

“Is he not seen as a monster anymore?” Jan asked, finally finding the small pull chain, flushing the water from the bowl.

“Yes, by many in Crete. But there are those of us that keep his memory sacred. His presence here keeps us safe.”

Taking the towels from her host, Jan sat them on the small vanity then stepped into the deep tub of hot water. She had overfilled it and when she sat, it nearly spilled over. Hela smiled and after telling her to relax and enjoy, turned and left her. 

A bit cramped, Jan put her feet up onto the rim of the tub, watching the steam rise from the skin of her legs.  She let her eyes return to Minotaur, who seemed to stare down at her. There seemed to be a presence emanating from the medallion. Almost as if Minotaur stood over her, watching her bathe. Jan let her head fall back, her calves hanging from the rim, resting on the edge of the heavy iron tub, her back arched, pushing her breast up to Minotaur, her eyes closed when her fingers parted her pubic hairs, pushing inside. 

Time seemed to stop when sleep took her. The hot water soothed her tired body. The steam helped her consciousness fade.  Dreams of Crete, of Minotaur, filled her head. There was wildness and excitement in the dream. There was her answer. 

Awakened by the sound of babbling water, Jan was startled by the presence of an older man, his long cock in his hand as he drained his bladder into the toilet. 

“Hello,” he smiled down, “I am Arie, and you must be Ms. Stein.”

She shook herself back to consciousness. “Not in London, girl,” she thought, “may as well get used to it.” She smiled up at her patriarchal host, “Yes, but you can call me Jan.”

Arie shook his penis a few times, sending the last drops into the bowl, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Jan.” 

She shook her head when he left her.  In disbelief, she almost had to laugh at herself. People here apparently didn’t see nudity in the way Londoners did. She dunked her head, wetting her hair. After washing her auburn curls. She wrung it out and wrapped her towel around it. Deciding to try to get over herself, she dried, then dropped her towel and took the eight steps back to her room, naked.

She was putting on her nightshirt when Hela appeared in the doorway, “Dinner is ready.”

“Great,” Jan said, “I’m starving. Pulling her panties up, the nightshirt only covering about three-quarters of her ass, she asked, “Is this okay, or should I wear something else?”

“You are fine dear,” Hela smiled, “We are pretty informal here.”

After a traditional dinner and great conversation on the island and the history of the Minotaur, Jan headed off the bed, happy that she had learned some things that she previously had not known.  Sleep brought more dreams and much-needed rest. 

One of her dreams, seeming so real, had frightened her to consciousness, if only for a short time. In her dream, there stood at the foot of her rented bed, a towering figure. The broadhead was adorned by very large horns that stretched from wall to wall of the room. She felt the humidity of its hot breath wash over her body. 

The monstrous form seemed to be there for her protection rather than harm. It seemed to ease her fears, coaxing her back to sleep.  When she awoke, yawning and stretching, she realized that she had rested better than she had in years. She could smell the remnants of the breakfast that she had slept through.  Hoping that there were leftovers, she slid from the bed and walked to the kitchen, only to realize that she had no panties on. 

“What the hell?" she wondered aloud, “I had them on when I went to bed, didn’t I ?” Dismissing it as unimportant, considering she had been fully nude in the presence of her hosts last evening. Looking around, she found the coffee and helped herself to leftover bacon and what she thought was goat cheese and scrambled eggs. She wondered where her host family had gone. That question was soon answered when Arie led Hela in carrying a basket of fresh vegetables. 

Jan was leaning against the sink cabinet, aware that her pussy was uncovered and visible. “You have a garden? She asked. She wasn’t trying to be a slutty guest. She was just trying to get used to being exposed before she went out. To be honest, though, it was exciting to know that Arie could see her heretofore untouched sex. She would never think of doing anything with him, but just to know he was able to see.

Hela took the basket from Arie who sat at the table wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. His eyes were fixed on Jan’s crotch. Jan felt his eyes boring into her sex. Pivoting her heel, turning her left knee out, she gave him a better view. He smiled then looked up, catching her smile and eye contact. She put a finger to her lips to remind him that it would be their little secret. He nodded and then joined Hela in the other room.

Jan had to smile to herself at what she had just done. She felt like a giddy teenage girl that had just had her first kiss. She was surprised to feel a bead of wetness slowly trailing down her inner thigh. Rubbing her thighs together, she warmed her hands with the coffee cup. Jan took the bacon and bit a piece off, chewing it when she saw the symbol above the door. Minotaur.

Suddenly very aware that she was exposed, she dropped her head in shame. Jan set the coffee cup on the countertop, pulling her nightshirt down, covering herself modestly. She looked back up at Minotaur, apologetically. Minotaur coldly glared back, its painted red eye unmoving, neither emotion nor judgment. Jan dropped her eyes to the floor, unable to meet the glare of the symbol, the monster. Slowly she walked back to her room. 

“Is everything okay, hon?” Hela asked from the doorway.

Jan shook her head, snapping back to reality. She had been sitting there for over an hour, thinking. Wondering why she felt so judged by a symbol on the wall. Wondering why she had been as bold as to have played peek-a-boo with Arie. Something about this place just possessed her. “Yes,” she answered her host, painting on a smile, “Just a bit of jet lag I guess.”

“The festival has started,” Hela smiled, “We are going to the theater. Get dressed. You will want to see the plays.”

Hela waved as she left yelling back for Arie to hurry. I pulled my nightshirt over my head. Naked, I pulled a white summer dress from a hangar in the closet. I had packed very little underwear. It was a tradition here during the festival. Leaning over she found a nice pair of sandals that would go with the dress. Standing upright again, she noticed Arie, smiling through the doorway. She knew he must have been watching. She covered her nakedness with an arm across her breast and a hand over her crotch, I’m sorry, Arie, I should have closed the door. 

Confused, he nodded and turned away, following Hela out the door. Jan stood still for at least a minute, breathing heavily, wondering what was wrong with her. She had enjoyed the game just an hour ago. Now she turned him away like a tease. Exasperated, she pulled the dress over her head, not bothering with the two buttons at the neck. It was hot and it was not that revealing anyway. Sliding her feet into the sandals, she grabbed a small purse that had her money and passport, put her red curls into a stretchy hair band and headed out. She remembered that the cab had brought her about two kilometers out of town, “This way. I think.”

Jan took in the beauty of the countryside. She could hear the waves crashing on the beach, the crowds cheering approaching the city limits, she noticed an increase in people walking around. The thing that caught her eye was the costumes. Festivals brought out all kinds. Most of the costumes, elaborate and simple, were themed to the festival of Minotaur. Others were just costumes. She saw lots of clowns, a few Santa’s, even a few Roman soldiers.

Surprised too that so many women, and girls, dressed as Pasiphae. The gowns that they wore, so similar to the one she had made, were pretty but not the quality of a queen’s. Hers was different, but it was only for the last day of the festival, the day of the sacrifice. Until then, it would be safe in the garment bag. 

As many women that were guised as Pasiphae, there were twice as many were costumed as the Snow White Cretan Bull. The men, naked but for the head and hide of a white bull, preserved and cast over their back. The men ran from Pasiphae to Pasiphae, trying to win her favor. Some were successful. Some, not so much. 

The lucky ones, probably approved because of the enormity of their genitalia, were treated to a public blowjob or even a fuck in the center of a circle of onlookers. Jan found herself in more than one circle of spectators, watching as the women either took a cock into their mouths or pussies. 

Not a part of any ceremony of the festival, it happened continuously. Pasiphae and that Snow White Cretan bull. The center of history and tradition. At least it was keeping with authenticity. One such circle she found herself in, was witnessing the counterfeit Pasiphae bent at the waist, taking a cock from behind as she licked and sucked another. 

Making her way to the theater, Jan witnessed at least eight pairs or bigger gatherings of characters playing out the scene of the origin. She made her way through the crowd, nearing the stage. This was one of the reasons she came to Crete. Not disgusted nor repelled by the lewd acts or the wanton nudity, she just wanted to be a part of the festival. She wanted to observe the people and see them play, to witness the climactic sacrifice. 

Legend held that when Minotaur was satisfied with the sacrifice, he would rise from his tomb and consume the body. That was a legend though. Just a part of the mythology. “Wouldn’t that be amazing?” thought Jan. 

The characters entered the stage. Their costumes were immaculate. Minos, Pasiphae, Poseidon, all the central characters. Even a real bull, snow white and huge, was led by a golden ring in his nose. The play began and went through the story from the gift of the bull from Poseidon to the petition of Pasiphae before Poseidon. The characters played their part to perfection. 

To end the play, Poseidon turned to the crowd with the question. “Will this be the year that Minotaur rises?” And with a bow from the cast, the performance ended with thunderous applause. She stood still as the crowd started to scatter in different directions. The cast shook hands with people from the audience. The stage crew began getting ready for the next performance. There would be three every day for the next two weeks.

The crowd, all but gone now, Jan stood quietly watching the actor who played Minotaur. He was a tall man. An easy two meters tall and verymuscular too. A perfect representation of Minotaur, she had to meet him. Jan decided to make her way to him. Fairly giddy, she took his hand and shook it with both of hers, “I think you did an amazing job.”

“Uh,” he began, “No English, sorry, no English.”

“Allow me,” said the woman who played a Pasiphae, and began translating to the big actor.

He turned back to Jan with a smile after hearing the interpretation, “Thank you, thank you.” 

Jan nodded and released his hand as he turned to greet another. A bit anti-climatic, her hero was gone. She stood for a second then turned to walk away. Not sure what to do next, she was surprised by a hand on her wrist. It was the Pasiphae actress, “Would you like to get a drink with the cast?” She asked, smiling sympathetically.

“Really?”  She nearly choked, “Yes. Absolutely.”

“I am Anna,” the actress said. She pronounced it “Ah-nah,” in a French-accented.

Jan introduced herself and followed her to the backstage area. Once inside, she was introduced to everyone. The following two hours were so fun that she was disappointed when the call to the stage came. It was time for the second performance. Everyone wished her well as she was on her way out. 

Rather than stay for the show, Jan walked around, shopping for souvenirs and food. She walked to the beach, sitting in a lounger to eat and watch the men and women, lying in the sun. They didn’t look like tourists, for the most part. Most were naked, some wore swimsuits. She watched the surfers and the children building sandcastles. The sun hung low on the horizon so she decided to watch it set. The day was hot but the temperature was dropping. Nights could be cold here. Her perspiration had soaked into her white linen dress. Pulling her hem up to the tops of her thighs, not to the point of exposing herself, but just to cool.

There blew in a breeze from the ocean, her red hair dancing in the wind. A beach waiter happened by and asked if she wanted a cocktail. She made her order for a gin and tonic. The waiter returned after a few minutes with her order, he put the drink in the holder on the arm of her lounger. Opening her clutch for the payment, the wind blew the skirt of her dress up a bit more, exposing her pantieless mound. 

She saw the young man looking at her down there. Again, excited by the fact that she was exposed and desired, she absently let her knees fall a bit wider, giving him a better view. She took a little longer than necessary to find her cash, giving him a chance to watch her bend one knee pulling her foot up to her perfect ass. She was exposed, her legs spread wide. If he were to try and touch her, she wondered if she would resist. 

She finally pulled the money from her purse, holding it out with a smile. He returned her smile and took the money. “Keep the change,” she said.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The sun slowly set, leaving the beach with a dim purple glow from the ocean. Tiki torches were being lit on the beach. People gathered around campfires to socialize and drink. It was the same all over the world. She had visited the United States, New Zealand, Australia, and many other countries as a child. Her father’s work took him all over the globe. There were times that he was able to take his family along. No matter where the beach was, it was always the same.

From her lounger, she had witnessed several more public sexual acts by costumed Pasiphaes and men in the guise of the bull. As base as it was, somehow she just couldn’t help but watch. Finishing her third gin, she felt a chill. Time to go to the house. Standing though, the gin had taken its hold on her. She stumbled but caught her balance. The young waiter saw her trouble and asked if he could assist. Jan was not one to turn down help. She was intelligent enough to know that she would probably have some difficulty finding her way home. She knew the address, but that would be little help on her own.

“If you wouldn’t mind calling a taxi for me.”

“No taxi, I have car,” he suggested.

“I’m drunk, not dumb,” she slurred, “I’m not looking for sex.”

“No ma’am. I take you home. No sex.”

Jan saw headlights in the parking lot off the beach. Raising her hand, she took a step in that direction, stumbling. Not one to imbibe, Jan wasn’t used to the effect of so much alcohol. Her waiter caught her in his arms before she fell.

“I take you home. No sex. No sex.”

That was the last thing she could remember from that first night. According to Hela and Arie, he was a gentleman. He brought her straight home, handed her off, and left without asking for a tip. She had thanked him the next day, and again days after. That was two weeks ago. Today was the climax of the festival. The day of sacrifice. This is what she had come to witness. 

Sleeping in, she knew it would be a long day. First, she had breakfast. An early bath, to make sure she was cleansed. She spent an hour fixing her hair. A gold ribbon braided into her red tresses. No makeup. That would not be in keeping with authenticity. A queen didn’t require makeup. It was time for the dress. 

Jan took the garment bag from the closet rod. Laying it flat on the bed, she unzipped the three-sided zipper. The dress almost seemed to glow. So pretty, she couldn’t take her eyes off it. With a smile, she looked over her shoulder at the symbol over the door, “Would he approve of the dress. It was a historically accurate copy of The gown that Pasiphae wore to the very first sacrifice. 

The young virgin was picked at random from the population of Athens. Her body was entombed with Minotaur after the ceremony. The sacrifice repeated once every seven years until the Volcanic eruption of Thira, bringing an end to the Minoan era. But the altar and tomb of Minotaur remain. The monster remains, waiting for the chosen sacrifice. There are many legends of what would come to pass when the chosen one arrived. But it had been over three thousand years since he was put to rest. Three thousand years, waiting on the chosen. Jan wondered if this would be the year as she donned the silky dress. She laced the golden ribbons up her legs, attaching them to the garter belt. The golden sash tied just under her breast, she checked the mirror. 

A vision of beauty if she did have to admit to it. Her hair was perfect, her dress, magnificent. The shoes and ribbons, just right. She wondered if she should trim her pubic hair but decided against it. Better to go natural.

Hela appeared in the doorway with a gasp of approval, “Beautiful.”

Jan turned to her with a radiant smile, “Thank you. You don’t think it too much?”

“No, no. It is the most beautiful costume I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you, Hela. It cost so much.”

They went on and Arie even agreed that it was beautiful. Time was getting short. The ceremony was only a few hours away but she wanted a good vantage point so she set out on foot. She wanted to walk because this late in the evening the temperature was dropping. Also, she wanted to show off her outfit. 

She was courted by several men dressed in the costume of the white bull. To the disappointment of those who attempted to lure her attention, she cordially refused them. She was dead set on her journey to the sacrifice. It was a five kilometer walk to the tomb. She had visited it several times already so she knew how to get there. The road was crowded with pedestrian locals as well as tourists. 

At least six men had tempted her along the way. Dressed as the white bull, their cocks in various stages of erection, called to her. She took a break when she happened upon a small roadside cafe. It was not crowded so she took a seat and waved for the waiter. While she waited, she sat back, her knees apart. The temperature was dropping but it was still very warm. The waiter arrived, smiling, and asked what she would like. His eyes dropped to between her legs while he awaited her order. 

“A bottle of water, please,” Jan replied, not bothering with modesty. She had gotten used to showing off her sex over the last two weeks. She had been so reserved all her life that it brought her an excitement that she had never known. Today, the feeling had been even stronger. The men danced naked before her, vying for her attention, pawing at the ground like mad beasts. The tourists, male and female, stared at her in her revealing costume. It all seemed to overwhelm her.

The water was cold and refreshing. It felt good to her dry throat. She watched the people, walking in different directions, taking in the sights. The men, every man, glancing at her. She was wet. A tall muscular man, dressed in the bull costume, walked up, his massive cock swinging between his thighs. He started the dance, pawing the ground. Jan watched his cock swaying side to side. 

She had seen many in the days leading up to this but none compared to his. To her surprise, he sat at her table and removed the bullhead. It was the actor that played Minotaur. She smiled when she realized who he was. “Too bad you don’t speak English,” she said.

He shrugged, “No, sorry. No English.” 

She sipped her water and smiled at him. He ordered a beer and sat with her. The roles reversed now, she couldn’t stop glancing at his massive cock. Wondering if she could ever take something like that. Although she had no experience at all, she doubted it. With no common language, they soon became bored. She realized that she didn’t even remember his name. He finished his beer and dismissed himself.

Just as well, the sun was beginning to set. She needed to make her way to the altar. 

Jan walked along the crowded path, men taking long looks at her. She noticed that most people were walking in the opposite direction. That could be good or bad. Bad if the altar was already crowded, good if it weren’t. She would know soon enough. It was just over the hill. 

Happy to see that the altar was not nearly as popular as the other attractions of the festival, she took a spot front and center. The actors were already in place. King Minos and his queen, Pasiphae. Poseidon and the virgin sacrifice. The orator announced that the ceremony would begin shortly. The small crowd quieted in anticipation. Jan was excited. 

Torches were lit around the ancient altar. Everything was original. The tomb, the altar, the circular path of marble pavement, even the original golden dagger. It was all here seven thousand years ago. She wondered if the tomb contained the bones of the immortal monster or if it was all just legend, passed down by Homer and so many others. At one time, the altar would have been stained with the blood of virgins. All that bleached away by millenniums of sunshine.

There was a scream. The ceremony had begun. The virgin was led, kicking and screaming to the altar, her hands put in the chains. She lay face up, staring at an ominous full moon. The dark clouds drifted slowly past as the orator told the story of Poseidon’s promise to Pasiphae. He went on in a dramatic tone about the birth, life, and ultimately, the death of Minotaur. 

His narration captured the emotion of the moment as well as the interest of the small crowd. Jan was completely entranced. She had no idea how caught up in this moment that she would be. It was as if she were there, thousands of years earlier. A roll of distant thunder accentuated the climax as The knife was plunged into the heart of the virgin. The crowd erupted in applause as the actors took a bow. 

Jan was thrilled to have witnessed the historic ceremony. She stood quietly as the announcer warned the dwindling crowd not to be here after midnight. “The tomb is unguarded. You never know what evil lurks in the shadow of Minotaur.” Another roll of thunder when the torches were extinguished. The night was eerie. 

Sitting on a bench just off the marble path watching the crowd disperse, Jan couldn’t bring herself to go. She had waited so many years to see this and now it was almost over. A plane would take her back to London tomorrow and her life would return to normal.

She was alone in her thoughts of Crete and Minotaur when she realized that she was truly alone. There was no one about. The air was still and quiet. The moon shone from behind a thin sliver of a black cloud into a hazy fog that had settled over the tomb. Lightning flashed far in the distance, its thunder reported many seconds later. Jan thought that the only thing missing was the howl of a wolf. It was a surreal setting.

She didn’t want to leave without touching the door of the tomb and the seat of the altar. Slowly walking the marble pavement, Jan felt as though she belonged here at this very moment. The white marble door of the tomb, weathered from the past three millennia, was coarse to the touch. The coolness of the stone felt good against her cheek as she pressed her ear to the door. The black streak still slanting through the enormous inscription, “Asterious Minotaurus The Great,” she read softly aloud.

She heard nothing but silence. Standing back, she realized the enormity of the door. He must have been a giant. The entrance, sealed though it was, was at least four meters wide and upwards of six meters high. “If he were to walk out of the tomb, would he need that big an opening?” she wondered.

Jan turned and walked back down the white marble steps to the altar.  Standing on the executioners' platform, she looked down to the white stone surface, once stained with blood. She wondered how many lives were ended on this very altar. How many virgins? She turned around and pushed herself up onto the flat surface. 

Looking around, she saw no one in the area. It was dead quiet. Putting her feet up on the bed of sacrifice, she laid back, arranging the tail of her dress. After putting her arms to her side, she laid her head on the pillow block. Alone in the dim purple glow of the night when she heard the bell in the tower of the Catholic Church. It was midnight. The sky flashed with the strobe of distant lightning. 

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, pretending to be the sacrificial virgin, laying under the high priest, his dagger held over his head, ready to plunge into her heart. The clinking of chains broke the silence. Jan’s eyes popped open, a look of fear in her eyes as she found her wrists shackled to the altar. Pull as she might, she was bound. 

She watched in shock as the sash of her dress untied itself. She heard the faint chants of an invisible, ancient crowd as her dress parted, laying her body bare on the altar. There appeared a ghostly form next to the altar, standing over her, “I am Poseidon,” he whispered, “Minotaur has waited six thousand six hundred years for you.”

Jan was terrified. She couldn’t move, couldn’t free her hands. “Fear not, child,” soothed Poseidon, “You are not to be sacrificed. You have been chosen to carry the offspring of Minotaur.”

Jan struggled to no avail. Suddenly there appeared another ghostly figure to her right. She was beautiful. She wore the same dress Jan wore. Without introduction, Jan knew her to be Pasiphae. She smiled down at Jan, running her ghostly hand up and down her arm, “You are a royal descendant of the bloodline of Minos, my king.”

“No,” protested Jan, “I can’t.”

Her protest fell on deaf ears. The ghostly chants grew louder and louder. She looked to her right. The ruins of the tomb had been made whole. There was a crowd seated in the ringed seats of a beautiful garden. Pasiphae soothed Jan, “You have been chosen, Janette. You are more than capable. You were born for this.”

Without another protest, Jan answered, “I know. I’ve always known. I’m ready.”

“Release the monster,” bellowed Poseidon.

The crowd roared as the huge stone door creaked and groaned. Dust fell from the header and popped from the hinges and footer. Jan watched as a team of strong, naked men pushed the impossibly heavy slab of Snow White marble through the arc of the hinges. A master stood behind the naked slaves, popping a whip over their heads until it finally slammed against the detent, stopping dead still.

Jan watched the opening, wide-eyed, ready for what was coming. “Hail Minotaur, Hail Minotaur,” came the cheer from the crowd. Then he appeared his head first with a wild bellow like as an ox. His horns were massive, resembling beams of oak trunks. He was standing upright like a man, needing every bit of the huge doorway. Another bellow as his body came into full view. His muscular arms appearing almost human,  covered in thick hair, ended in claws as a great bird of prey. 

Once through the door and in the open, he straightened his form, his legs so strong and hairy, with hooves rather than feet, shook the ground as he stomped closer, shattering the marble pavement. The monster’s head resembled that of his white father. The product of an unnatural union. He was truly monstrous. His great horns jutted three meters on either side of his wide head. His shoulders, strong and sinewy, projected the strength of this great monster.

He stood at the foot of the altar, his great hairy body towering above Jan. She felt the hot breath blast from his nostrils as he lowered his head to gaze upon her naked body. His red eyes stared directly into hers. He pushed his wide nose between her legs, breathing in her scent. With a great bellow, he stood upright, crazed by the scent of her sex. 

It was at that moment Jan noticed his scrotum. His balls hung heavy between his legs in a smooth hairless sac. The black sack hung under the weight of two cantaloupe-sized testicles. She watched as his penis pushed from a long hairy sheath that ran along his belly. Limp at first, his nose returned to her sex, inhaling with a snort.

The monster stood erect again, his cock flexing, slamming up against his belly. She couldn’t believe the size of his penis. Long and thick, its shaft the diameter of her thigh, was black and white flaring like a bugle at the tip. “Isn’t my son magnificent?” whispered Pasiphae into Jan’s ear, “He is going to breed you now.”

Two of the naked slaves took Jan’s legs, spreading them wide at her knees. They held her firmly, though she didn’t struggle. She would do this or die trying.  The monster pushed his huge nose between her legs again, inhaling deeply. Standing upright again, his huge shaft standing erect with a long upward curve, semen already dripping rapidly from his hole. 

Jan felt the big drops of the monsters falling onto her body. With a grunt, he took a step forward and flexed his dick again, slapping it against his belly. A thick stream of his cum shot from the tip, splashing onto Jan’s body. She didn’t expect that it would get into her mouth. The taste was not unpleasant to her. She could feel the flaring head of his cock pressed to her sex. She felt his hot semen running between her legs and pooling under her ass. 

He bellowed again, slamming the claws of his hands onto the altar. With a strong hunch, he shoved his cock forward, burying it into Jan’s virgin pussy. She wanted to scream in pain but held it in. She had never felt such pain and such pleasure combined. His haunches, so powerful jerked forward several times, explosively, fucking his bride. 

He took no sexual pleasure in fucking her. It was just instinctual breeding. Jan felt her womb being filled with the monster’s seed. She felt it expand her belly to overfull. The monster pulled back, withdrawing its cock, limp from her pussy. His thick white cum drained from her hole. He bellowed, pawing the ground with his great hooves. He snorted as he stamped the pavement. 

Jan laid on the altar, still chained and restrained by the slaves. There were at least three liters of semen between her legs, running down the sides of the altar. “Get ready, Janette,” whispered Pasiphae, “He will take you again.”

Jan watched him stamp his hooves, pawing the ground in his excitement. Without warning, he turned and quickly resumed his position at the foot of the altar. His enormous cock was pointing straight out from its sheath. The monster, without ceremony, plunged his cock deep into her again. Again, Jan took what he gave her, wanting to please him, wanting to please Pasiphae. His cock was much too big for her or any human woman. 

The monster thrust hard and fast, driving deeply into the human. This was not for her pleasure, but to breed. It was just a natural instinctive impulse. Her scent woke his lust. He would ravage her body with animalistic enthusiasm until his body was satisfied. He continued to push his cock in quick jerky thrusts. 

Jan lay under the towering beast, taking his cock. She knew it was impossible to take such a huge cock. She was stretched beyond realistic limits. She should have been torn and broken, but instead, she felt an unearthly orgasm, taking her above any pain. She came over and over, her juices coating and lubricating the monster’s enormity. He filled her again with his inhuman cum.

Pasiphae pecked her forehead with kisses and reassuring words. Rubbing her hand up and down Jan’s arm, she watched the monster, her son, drive his cock deep into the human. Minotaur came again, filling her pussy with his seed.  His enormous cock forced most of it to squeeze back out of her but what remained was more than any human had ever produced. 

Jan was descending from her climax as Minotaur pulled his penis, dripping profusely with semen, from her sex. His cock seemed to continuously jet cum. Her body was simply covered in thick white droplets. Again his bellow shattered the quietness of the still night air. Standing tall at her feet, he flexed again, his cock spitting a stream of semen over and onto her. 

Pasiphae’s smiled as she smeared it on Jan's breast. “He will take you again, my child,” she whispered, “you are going to conceive.”

“Yes,” Jan choked, breathlessly, “Let him fuck me. Let him fuck me as long as he likes.” She lay in a pool of semen. Her body was wet and sticky with the monster’s cum. She looked at Pasiphae, her face covered in her own son’s cum. Jan wanted to do something, something that she had never even thought of doing in the past. Without hesitation, she offered Pasiphae a kiss. Pasiphae accepted, sucking Jan’s tongue into her mouth. Jan reciprocated, tasting the semen that had coated their faces. As they kissed, she felt the monster’s cock thrust deep into her pussy again. The third time since he took her virginity. His huge cock pounded and stretched her. He offered no gentleness, no compassion. The only thing he offered was the fuck. His meter-long penis repeatedly driven in by his muscular hips. 

“He is fucking me again,” she said into Pasiphae’s kiss.

“I know, my child. I know.”

Another orgasm wracked her body. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought it a seizure. Her eyes rolled, her body quaking with the pleasure that only sex can bring. “It’s so good,” Jan barked.

“Enjoy it, my child,” Pasiphae urged, “Minotaur will bring you a pleasure above mortal man. Cherish your beast as I cherished mine so many eons ago.”

Jan panted and trembled under the monster. Her body contorted with every thrust of his giant dick. She knew that after this she would never fuck again. She knew that there could be nothing as great as what her monster was doing to her. She knew that she would bear his child. She could feel it growing in her even now. 

Minotaur filled her with his semen again. She could not believe he had produced such an amount, her body and her dress were coated in it. Pasiphae was covered from her head to her toe with it. The giant cock slid limply from her used pussy, dripping cum from the tip. It swung front to back as he stamped his hooves in a show of his strength. He flexed again, his meter-long dick striking against his hairy belly. 

Once again erect, he stepped between Jan's legs for the fourth time, shoving his impossibly large member deep into her sex. She was completely filled, dripping cum from per pussy as he forced himself in. This time was different, slower, gentler. The monster groaned and thrust deeply. 

“You have conceived,” pronounced Poseidon, “You will bear the grandchild of Pasiphae.” 

The monster continued fucking his great cock in and out of her pussy. Another orgasm then another and another took her to heights of pleasure that she never expected. Finally, the monster came again, stumbling backward, his cock spewing cum over and over onto Jan. Pasiphae helped her to an upright position, the chains having disappeared from her wrists. “You will live with me now, Janette,” she announced, “All your needs will be met. You will want for nothing.”

Jan, holding Pasiphae’s hand, followed her down a path that led behind the tomb. She was suddenly in a place of ancient beauty. There, where ruins once filled the landscape, were erect marble columns and buildings. People walked in royal apparel. She was aware that she had been taken to ancient Crete. Could this be real? Her life’s purpose had been revealed. She was now royalty. There was no pain, there was no cum. Her clothes were the finest linen. There were gold rings on her fingers and chains on her neck and waist.

“How long have I been here?” she wondered, “It seemed as if always.” She rubbed her palms softly over her swollen belly. So pregnant. She would deliver soon. She could feel with her fingers, below her swollen belly, the same symbol, branded above her sex, on her hairless pubic mound, as Pasiphae wore on her own hairless pussy.