"If I ever find the bright spark who gave these little monsters weapons, I am going to do the most awful things to them."
 
The bowstring twanged, hurling another arrow into the seething mass of goblins below. One of them dropped with an emotionless squeal of pain. I fought down a shudder of revulsion, pulling another arrow from my quiver and preparing the fire again. There was something unsettling about the stunted, hump-backed creatures that swarmed and battled beneath my perch. Goblins weren't really people. They were artificial creatures, created way back when by the elves as a slave race to mindlessly obey any orders they were given. And when the elves collapsed into civil war, some bright spark told them to fight, and despite everyone's best efforts the horrid little animals had been carrying out that last order ever since. Everything they did, from their rudimentary civilization to the way they fought and reproduced and died, was carried out as an eerie, robotic pantomime, utterly devoid of any real feeling. 
 
Killing them was something between a mercy and a chore. It didn't even pay particularly well. 
 
There was a tremendous roar from below as my companion swept his warhammer through the mass, hurling the pulped remains of half a dozen goblins into the air. Others swarmed in, their makeshift weapons clattering against his armour. The minotaur, Hurthul, was like a rock standing against the tempest. His weapon swung back and forth in brutal, pendulous arcs, smashing goblins as if they were insects and smearing their greasy remains across the grass. Hurthul had hired me as a scout and a tracker. There had been no obligation to involve myself further, but sitting back while he charged in alone had felt like a great way to let him get killed. So I had skulked up into a tree, promising to try thinning them out with my bow before they reached him. 
 
The string twanged. Another goblin fell. Hurthul let out another bellow and ground four more to death with about as much effort as he took to draw breath, then split a fifth's head open with an almost casual backhanded slap. Any other species would have broken and fled in the face of those kinds of casualties, but the goblins scrambled over their fallen to hack and stab at the towering figure rampaging through their lines, trying to drag him down through sheer weight of numbers. A band of humans would have been overwhelmed in seconds. 
 
I winced as Hurthul brought his hoof down on a goblin that had slipped in the bloody mire, his hoof crushing the thing's ribs like matchsticks, and reached back for a third arrow.
 
It didn't take long for us to finish off the rest of the goblins. It had only been a small band. We counted about thirty by tallying noses, but many were so badly crushed it was difficult to tell one corpse from another. Of that, perhaps seven had been picked off by my arrows. Against any other enemy that would have been something worth boasting about, but Hurthul just let out a low, rumbling chuckle when I announced my count.
 
"Hey, at least I helped." I shrugged. "Points for trying, at least?"
 
"Showed spirit. Give you that." He replied, his armour clanking as he walked through the scrappy camp. I trotted behind him, occasionally pausing to toe through the heaps of rubbish collected by its former inhabitants in the hopes of finding something valuable. Hurthul was big, and I say that as a pretty tall girl. He was over a head and shoulders taller than me and easily twice as broad. His arms were swollen pillars of muscle, thick with bulging veins clearly visible through his short black fur. The longer hair on his forearms had matted in places where goblin blades drew blood, but the minotaur showed no sign of discomfort as he rooted through each stinking hovel in turn. His skinny little tail twitched in annoyance every time he returned empty-handed. 
 
His height wasn't all that strange to me. I was used to adventuring with a Dragonborn, after all, but there was something more animalistic about the minotaur. His shoulders were hunched forwards and his arms seemed a little too long for his body. It looked like walking on two legs wasn't quite natural, that at any given moment he might sag forwards onto his knuckles like an ape.
 
"So what are we looking for?" I asked. We had attacked the goblin camp close to noon, so the light would keep them dazed, and the sun was blazing high in the sky. Flies were already starting to gather around the bodies, and the stench of ruptured bodies and voided bowels had begun to fill the air. I pulled a face and turned away. Hurthul gave a wordless grunt of irritation before replying.
 
"Chieftan's tent. Goblins scavenge, loot. Never do anything with it." He said, glancing back over his broad, armoured shoulder. I fought down the urge to stare. I had just turned twenty-one, and by that point in my life had talked, adventured, and slept with a whole range of species. But talking to a bull's head, albeit one with the unmistakable glint of intelligence in its eyes, always left me feeling a little odd. "Funny. Stealing is part of war, ya? So goblins steal. Don't know what to do with it afterwards though. Just sits around."
 
"How many caravans did this pack hit? Must be quite a pile they've got stashed away." My own tail twitched in excitement. It felt a tad ghoulish, getting excited about being able to carry off the money and goods of slaughtered traders, but I'd always had a healthy (or unhealthy, depending on how you look at it) streak. People commented that there was quite a bit of Seducer in me, and to be fair they weren't wrong, but more than a little infernal covetousness had muddied up my family bloodline as well.
 
"Three." The minotaur replied, pulling aside the moldering drape that hung over the entryway to another dwelling and stooping to look inside. This time, he let out a triumphant bellow and waved me over. 
 
"Ireela, come!" He called. I finished scraping the remains of a goblin off my boot and hurried over just in time to see him accidentally smash his horned head right through the roof in an explosion of rotten wood. The minotaur turned, a confused expression on his face as the rest of the building collapsed down around his waist, like the world's ugliest skirt. I grinned and rapped a fist against one of my own long, backwards-sweeping horns.
 
"Yea, I do that a lot as well. Narrow doorways are a nightmare."
 
Hurthul let out a phlegmy snort of laughter and disentangled himself from the ruins, brushing the detritus aside as if it was little more than a tangle of cobwebs. I paused for a moment, a lopsided smirk on my face, enjoying the sight of the minotaur at work as he eagerly dug into the remains. There was something almost elemental about him. Muscles bulging, patchwork armour gleaming in the sun, he moved with a vital strength and confidence that seemed almost unreal. Pieces of the chieftain's hut were kicked aside or wildly tossed left and right, forcing me to yelp and jump out the way. Hurthul turned as I took cover behind another half-collapsed structure.
 
"Y'don't feel like helping, then?" He said. It was hard to read the minotaur's expression. His broad muzzle couldn't really smile or frown, and I hadn't worked out if the rapid twitches of his ears carried any meaning or if they just served to flick away the gathering flies. He didn't sound angry, though.
 
"You only paid me to get you here, remember?" I replied. "What you do now is your business. Besides, it's not like you needed much help back there." I jerked a thumb over my shoulder, towards the scattering of carcasses. "So I figured I'd just sit back a while. Leave the heavy work to the big cow, not the skinny little devil-girl, you know? Enjoy the view."
 
Both of Hurthul's ears twitched, and my smirk grew further. That, at least, was a definite reaction. He scoffed and stuck a mocking pose, his trunk-like legs braced and arms flexed, before turning and returning to his work. Minotaurs didn't do a lot for me - like I said, it was hard to get past the cow head staring you in the face - but it was hard to get the image of his biceps out of my mind. They were wide enough that I would have struggled to get both hands around one of his arms, and part of me wondered how it would feel to be squeezed between them and his broad, furry chest. 
 
It was an idle fantasy, something to amuse myself with while Hurthul worked, nothing more. He didn't know that I moonlighted as a whore to supplement my income, and while prostitution wasn't looked down on in the way it was in some other cities, I had no idea what Hurthul thought of it. Besides, occasional slip-ups aside, I wanted to keep my two professions separate. The last thing I needed was for people to think of me as nothing more than a hooker paid to tag along with real mercenaries, or even just that they had some sort of entitlement to **** me on the job. So as soon as the minotaur called me over, I let the thought slip from my mind, hurrying through the tangled mess of filth, rubble, and crushed little bodies.
 
Hurthul had cleared away the worst of the wreckage, leaving behind the hard-packed dirt that made up the goblins' floor. A crude throne, somehow still intact despite the roof coming down on it, jutted forth like a rotten tree stump. The goblins had piled their takings around it - what hadn't been eaten or torn up for parts, at least. A pair of expensive Caliphaen carpets, some gold and ivory Varnian jewellery in the shape of interlocking cogwheels, and several bottles of foreign wine caught my eye. As Hurthul continued dismantling the structure, we found more - some large portraits and a number of expensive porcelain that had somehow survived intact.  All in all there wasn't as much raw coin as I might have hoped. Still, it was a decent haul.
 
"So, how are we splitting this?" I asked, turning to Hurthul. The minotaur looked back at me. His eyes were the colour of amber, staring straight out at the world from beneath his horns. 
 
"Only paid you to get me here, remember?" He chuckled. My face fell and I sighed heavily, cutting him off as he began stuffing the salvage into a thick burlap sack. "So-"
 
"Yea, yea. So what you do now is your business." I said, giving the diminishing pile a forlorn look. "I really should have known that was coming."
 
---
 
In the end I did help him get the booty packaged up, albeit grudgingly. Hurthul was hardly the daintiest of people, and I found the idea of him accidentally smashing valuable treasure on the way back to camp faintly offensive. Besides, it never hurts to leave a positive impression on people. I put a lot of stock in my reputation (or reputations, shall we say, given my dual professions) and it really isn't worth getting a black mark against you just to skive off an hour or two's extra work. 
 
We had pitched our tents a few hours upstream from where the goblins had been nesting, though it took two trips to lug back all of the salvage worth hanging on to. The sun was starting to go down by the time we had everything secured. Hurthul lit a fire while I checked the snares I had left out in the morning, and came back with a pair of rabbits. Padded out with the last of the bread and cheese I'd brought along, and a bottle of cheap wine to celebrate, they made for a fine enough dinner. Even if watching Hurthul swallow his lot down in two bites, as if it were a light snack, was a little galling.
 
I let out an appreciative groan and flopped back against my bedroll, tugging at the laces holding my armour on. Having worn it all day left it feeling like a vice around my ribs, and the heat from the fire gently prickling my bare arms felt wonderful as night began to draw in. Hurthul sat opposite me, going through a list of what we'd recovered. He had abandoned his armour as well, stripping down to his natural black fur and a heavy loincloth for decency. Minotaurs, he had told me, rarely even bothered with that in their own territories. I didn't quite have the heart to tell him that I'd almost certainly seen far more shocking things than whatever he had lurking behind it. 
 
"You know, I can probably get that stuff valued for you, if you want." I said, nodding towards the parchment in his spade-like hands. "One of my friends knows a few people - some legal, some, uh, not so much."
 
He grunted. "Still angling for a share?"
 
"No! Well, maybe. Yes." I gave him an embarrassed grin. The alcohol from the wine was already working its way through my system, leaving me feeling pleasantly lightheaded. "Look, we all get work through word of mouth, right? Someone recommended me to you. If I recommend this guy to you, he'll take his percentage of the sales, and pass a bit back to me in return."
 
Hurthul eyed me for a moment longer, then shrugged. "Sure. Couldn't find what I was after anyway. If he can get a good price, you got a deal."
 
"What you were looking for, then?" I asked. The fire crackled, filling the silence that crept into the conversation. Hurthul eyed me for what felt like a long time, motionless other than the occasional twitch of his ear. Slouched on the other side of the fire, half-hidden in the shadow of the tree he leaned against, the minotaur looked more like one of my own ancestors than a flesh-and-blood creature. Even through the haze of alcohol, the thought of having offended him sent a chill down my spine. I got halfway though a stumbled apology before he waved it away.
 
"Amulet." Hurthul grunted. "Wedding amulet. Belonged to my brother. He came here four years ago." The minotaur shook his head and stared dolefully into the flames. I winced and brushed a stray lock of curly black hair away from my face, already knowing where this was going. Minotaurs had a reputation for being stupid and naive. Most of the ones who traveled to the civilized lands ended up robbed or tricked into slavery. "Traded it for human coin. He returned home in shame. Asked me to find it for him."
 
"At least he got out alive." I said. The minotaur nodded. "Do you know what it looks like? If you have one yourself, or a drawing, or something, I could keep an eye out."
 
"Hmph. Could draw, maybe. If I can find pencil that won't break." He raised his hands, flexing the three thick digits on each, and snorted in laughter. "Don't have one, though. Always busy. Other Min'da seem stupid to you northerners, ya? I spend time reading, learning from traders who come visit steppes." 
 
Hurthul tapped the end of his long snout, nostrils the size of my thumb pad flaring as he huffed proudly, and winked conspiratorially. It was so strange, to see such a human gesture formed upon enormous bull's face, and couldn't help but giggle at the sight. The alcohol had something to do with it, no doubt. The bottle was half-empty, and I tossed it over to my companion. He sucked the remains down in one go and hurled it over his shoulder. Somewhere off in the distance there was a smashing noise and the furious hooting of an owl. The forest fell silent for a moment as Hurthul and I exchanged guilty looks, then the pair of us collapsed into fresh fits of laughter.
 
"Anyway, like I said. All Min'da strong, but I wasn't strongest in tribe. Smartest, ya, but that maybe not so attractive in my people." He shrugged. "And so much time learning means none for bonding. So, no betrothal officers. Then stupid brother goes away, and I offered to go fix things. Know human lands, know what humans like, not get sucked in my human tricks."
 
One of Hurthul's ears twitched again, then drooped. He looked almost apologetic. "Ah, not that all humans are tricky, though."
 
I grinned, my own small fangs gleaming in the firelight. "No, most of them are. They just trick people they think deserve it. Besides," I added, lashing my thick tail against the ground for emphasis. "I'm not human. Red skin, big horns, kind of a tip-off?"
 
The minotaur huffed again. "Ireela's horns not that big. Mine bigger."
 
"Whatever you say, big guy." The wine had settled in nicely. I wasn't drunk, not really, but I could feel myself relaxing as it soaked through me, like I was slipping into a warm back. A lazy grin crept over my face. "But you've honestly never, you know..."
 
He cut me off. "Hah! Have lain before, just never for life. Not since coming to human lands either. Most of you not find Min'da attractive. And some, well, Min'da big, ya? Big in all ways. Not want to hurt."
 
This time it was my turn to snort. "Please. You're not much taller than a Dragonborn, so you can't be that big. I bet I could take you on."
 
I clapped my hands over my mouth as soon as the words left it, my eyes going wide and face flushing an even deeper red in embarrassment. It had been a stupid, half-second slip of the tongue, but the damage was done. Something in the minotaur's stance had changed. It was the same thing I saw in many men once they realized I was for sale; the realization that an attractive young woman had ceased to be just that, and had become an attractive, available, willing young woman. Even if that willingness came in exchange for coin.
 
One of the things I'd learned from Hurthul about his people was that to them, size was important. It helped denote hierarchy within the tribe. That, and that minotaurs were stubborn. They didn't often back down from a challenge, even a good-natured one. 
 
Hurthul let out a great harumph and crossed his arms defiantly over his broad chest. Muscles rolled and flexed under his black fur like an ocean of steel. "I did not think it polite for northern women to boast of such things." He remarked.
 
"Well, I - I mean, it wasn't a boast," I stammered. "I just...you know, the drink, and...and it sort of slipped out."
 
"No boast? But Ireela seemed so very sure of herself." Hurthul's face was as stony as ever. Even his ears had stopped twitching, and he watched me with a hawkish focus I hadn't seen in him before. I cursed inwardly, damning my inability to read him. He might just have been stringing me along for the fun of it, and in a few moments he would burst into another thunderous rumble of laughter, but for all I knew the minotaur was seriously calling out my challenge. "I have met Dragonborn. Almost as tall as Min'da, ya? But Ireela thinks them more gifted by Shalia? We shall see."
 
Some faint memory in the depths of my mind whispered that Shalia was a fertility goddess, but I paid it little attention. Hurthul was standing, his massive body unfolding from its slouch, rising up and up like a vast monolith of fur and muscle. He strode casually around the fire, his strides long, slow and measured, hooves clomping on the packed earth. I watched, eyes wide and heart racing, as the minotaur untied his loincloth and tossed it aside. For a few seconds the shadows cast by the fire hid what was behind. Then he stepped into the light.
 
Hurthul's **** hung between his legs like a length of hose, thick and almost alarmingly red. It swung back and forth before a pair of fist-sized testicles, not even partially hard, giving the occasional twitch. It took a few frantic heartbeats before I remembered to breath.
 
"Well? Which was larger?" Hurthul rumbled. I glanced up at him in bewilderment. 
 
"I don't know!" I eventually squeaked out. "Yours is, you know, it's still - " the minotaur's flaccid **** jumped, once. "And the Dragonborn's was, uh...sort of internal?" I waved my hands helplessly, shuffling backwards, as if putting a few more inches between myself and the fat-headed length of flesh dancing before my eyes would defuse the situation. "I couldn't - couldn't say. Really. Honest."
 
The minotaur huffed again, the little tuft of hair on the end of his chin fluttering. This time, though, his ears twitched the same way they had when he had laughed earlier, and he gave me a sage nod. "Ah. I understand. Still, can be fixed."
 
Hurthul spat on his palm. He wiped his rubbery lips off with one hand while he wrapped the glistening one around his prick, and began to pump with slow, leisurely movements. I groaned, turning away and covering my eyes with one hand. Not that it did any good. The idle fantasies I'd amused myself with earlier crept insidiously back into my mind and I squirmed in place, a little tingle passing through me as my thighs rubbed against one another.  My fingers parted and I peeked out between them. Hurthul hadn't moved an inch. His prick jutted towards me. It was far more human than I might have expected. After werewolves and dragonborn (and the actual dragon), there was something almost comforting about that.
 
Okay, look, I thought. He doesn't know about your whoring. He might think you're a bit of a tart, but that's hardly the worst thing in the world so long as he doesn't start spreading it around. And he is, well...
 
I glanced at the rising pillar of his erection, then up the vast expanse of his body, the hard muscles and soft, warm fur, and wondered again what it would feel like brushing over my skin. The last time I'd been with anything like that had been the werewolf, and the whole "it's this or get eaten" factor hadn't let me enjoy it as much as I might have liked. The weave of my jerkin suddenly felt rough and uncomfortable, and I fidgeted mindlessly with the hem. Even his head didn't bother me that much. Past the fur and the muzzle, did he really look any less human than I did? 
 
Yea, you go, Ireela, I thought. If my subconscious had eyes, they would be rolling like cartwheels. Those self-justifications really are astonishingly convincing. Look, you might never get another chance, you'll be kicking yourself if you don't, so stop trying to scrape up an excuse. Just **** the big cow and get it over with.
 
"Well, if you're so eager for my opinion, at least let me give you a proper inspection first." I said. My hand brushed along the inside of his thigh, fingers working their way through the thick fur. Iron-hard muscles tensed beautifully beneath his skin as I caressed him, up and down, each time drawing a little closer to his swollen, hanging balls. Hurthul huffed and grunted, his calloused palms still working his prick. The fat, broad head couldn't have been more than a few inches from the tip of my nose. He stank like an animal, heady and intoxicating, as if his polished armour and polite words were little more than a thin veneer spread over something far more wild and bestial. 
 
The mind of a man and the body of a beast? Well, I thought, I can see the appeal of that.
 
I could hardly deny my own needs either. Heat blossomed through me, as if the fire's warmth had crept beneath my skin and taken root there. No longer having to pretend that my attraction was just an idle fantasy, I gloried in the feeling, letting my breaths grow deeper and huskier as my fingers danced closer to the minotaur's organ. He jumped as they brushed over his sack, weaving past the long, wiry hair and teasing the velvet skin beneath, and rumbled in pleasure.
 
"Hrrrn. Feels good." Hurthul thrust into his palm, bouncing his organ off my nose and leaving a long smear of precome across my cheekbone. I looked up at him and laughed a little, the sound fluttering in the night air like birdsong.
 
"It'll feel even better soon." I purred. "The dragonborn? I took him inside me. All the way. He pushed me up against the wall and ****** me until I couldn't see straight."
 
A lazy smile drifted over my face at the memory. That had been the first seriously big - you know, more-than-human big - guy I'd been with. At the time it had been as frightening as it was novel. I cupped one of Hurthul's balls and felt it swell in my palm, imagining it roiling with four years worth of his seed, aching to be spilled forth. Into me, onto me, whatever.  A soft moan slipped my lips. My clothes were like a vice. Every little motion dragged them across my skin, as rough and functional as Hurthul's strong, calloused hands. I could feel my undergarments, warm and damp with arousal, clinging to the sensitive flesh they hid, and wondered if I should let the big minotaur keep them as a parting gift. 
 
"He left scale-prints on my backside for days." I murmured the words, drawing close, planting a soft kiss on Hurthul's shaft. My tongue wandered alongside my fingers now, tracing veins that bulged and fluttered under its forked tip, working their way towards the head. It bulged, swelled, drizzling precome like an anxious virgin desperate to make his money last. I lapped like a cat, making a show of it, my eyes dancing between the minotaur's monstrous, animal face and the brute instrument of his body. He tasted sweet. As sweet as men get, at least. I thought he must have eaten a lot of fruit, and I laughed again as the word 'herbivore' swam through my mind. He was a cow, after all. What else should I have expected?
 
"Huh. Fond memories." Hurthul replied. He reached down, cradling my head with one massive hand and locking the other around my left horn. "Sounds like a lot to live up to. Was he special to you?"
 
The minotaur could have snapped my neck at any moment, but I wasn't afraid. Perhaps I should have been - kneeling on the ground in front of a creature that could have pulled me apart in an instant, a creature who's emotions I struggled to read, and for all I knew treated women as - if you'll excuse the pun - cattle. But I didn't. Hurthul's **** throbbed between my delicate red fingers, and I grinned up at him, silently mouthing the word "no". My teeth shone in the firelight. He wasn't that different from any other client I'd had. Bold and brash up front, but as soft as putty once I got my hands on him. Mine, I thought selfishly. Mine to enjoy.
 
Well, most of him was soft, at least. His prick felt like heated iron. Hurthul's finger prodded at my lips, then slipped inside. I sucked, my head bobbing in time with the rhythmic caresses of his prick. He throbbed and pulsed, his balls painfully heavy in the palm of my hand. Precome spilled over my fingers in warm, sticky strings. Soon, very soon, that thing would be between my legs, prying me open and stabbing into my core. The thought brought a twinge from deep inside me with it, so intense it was almost painful. I wanted something - him, my fingers or tail, a toy, anything - to slip inside me, to sooth that growing, aching need. And yet I refused it. For a few moments longer, at least. Just long enough to savour my own anticipation, the way one might savour the scent of a fine wine before letting it pass their lips. 
 
Hurthul let go of my chin, pulling his finger from my mouth with a soft pop. He tugged at my horn, pulling me inexorably up to my feet. His nostrils flared wide, and a thin string of drool hung from his lips. I wiped it up with my finger and, on a whim, lapped it off with a deft flick of my forked tongue. 
 
"Four years without a mate?" I whispered. Hurthul nodded.
 
"Four years."
 
"Too long."
 
He grunted a wordless affirmation. My fingers still held his prick, long fingers wrapped around the head. The moment stretched. I saw his need in every tense muscle, felt it oozing into my palm. He wanted me. I would have fallen to the ground, spread my legs and let the huge, hairy monster savage me if he wished, just so long as it soothed the deafening cries of my own needs. And yet he made no move. Was he afraid of hurting me? Were women the ones who initiated in his society? I decided that I didn't care. My clothes were gone in a flash, pulled off, tossed aside and forgotten, any pretense of a slow striptease abandoned in favour of simple expedience. Hurthul blinked once, his eyes roaming over me; tall, slender, honed with lithe muscles and bound in smooth red skin, my curves small but pert and aching for attention. He must have thought I was going to break myself in half.
 
"Hurthul?" I said, drawing closer, guiding his prick between my thighs. Heat bloomed through me as my lips parted to kiss his the rigid shaft, and I let out a long, throaty breath as I slid along it. "Hurthul, sit down. I'm going to **** you." 
 
He nodded, almost meekly. Now it was my turn to guide him. I placed a hand on his chest, buried it in this thick fur and pushed, urging him down to the ground. The minotaur collapsed with a soft thud, still staring up at me. I stepped again, almost arrogantly, standing over him with my legs spread. His **** arrowed upwards, pointed towards the glistening folds that lay between them. I gave him a moment to savour the view, then descended myself. Squatting at first, hands gripping his shoulders and my tail stuck out for balance, we both jumped as my lips kissed his head. Heat met heat, and I paused, taking a breath. Pace yourself, I thought. His organ throbbed insistently. Don't take him all at once. 
 
Slowly, slowly, I eased Hurthul's prick into me. My lips parted, stretched, and with a stinging hint of pain swallowed the tip of the minotaur's ****. He wasn't the largest I'd had, and - for once - I could set the pace, easing him into me an inch at a time. There was a little more pain, the initial sting fading into a heavy, swollen ache as I inched down his shaft. It threw my senses into sharp relief, priming me for the great wave that came next. My toes dug into the soft soil, my back arched, and I let out a long, ***** cry of pleasure as the last of Hurthul's organ slipped into me. Soft, warm fur tickled my thighs. The fire was hot on my back, beads of sweat already working their way down towards my rear.
 
We stayed like that for a few seconds, growing used to one anothers' bodies. Then Hurthul let out a lowing sound, more animal than a human groan. 
 
"By all the gods, you are tight." He said. I grinned dizzily and leaned back a little, so he could see the site of our union for himself.
 
"Trust me, it's not the gods you should be thanking." I replied, the last word devolving into a breathy gasp as I eased myself a few inches back up his shaft. I'd taken bigger, and mounting him like this gave me more control than I sometimes did. But he was still so much larger than a human, and I cried out a little as I sank down onto his hilt once more. Stars bloomed behind my eyelids, and my head spun as Hurthul reached for me, wrapping his hands around my ribs and pulling me close. Calloused thumbs ground over my nipples, rough against the sensitive little buds, bright sparks of ecstasy helping to ease me through the pain.
 
"Still haven't answered my question, Ireela." Hurthul grunted. He bumped his hips up, bouncing me in his lap. His **** shifted inside me, dragging against my slick, silken walls, every bit as hard and brutish as the rest of his body. "Who was bigger? Me, or your Dragonborn?"
 
"You - you're not seriously still harping on about - ah!" 
 
I cried out again, hands knotting in his fur until my knuckles turned white. Hurthul's hands clung as tightly to me as my lips clung to his organ. His sheer size, his raw physicality, was almost overwhelming. "Can't we just say it's a draw? It's not like I thought to measure him!"
 
Hurthul grunted again. His ears twitched and his nostrils flared, the minotaur's hot breath tingling over my bare skin. "Fine. You said he made you see stars, ya? So, I will do better."
 
Well, that was ominous. I hadn't been lying about the scale marks thing. Granted I'd been younger then, and less experienced. And I'd certainly had larger partners since then. But none had been trying to outdo a rival before, and men could get so terribly competitive about that sort of thing.
 
His hands clamped tighter around my ribs. I found myself lifted, fully half of the minotaur's prick dragged from between my sensitive folds, then slammed back down to his very root. It felt like he had put every bit of the force he swung his hammer with into the motion. There was an explosion of pain, gut-deep and nauseating enough to make my vision swim. Aftershocks flowed through me, warm aches and sweet tingles that nursed away the worst of the discomfort. 
 
And then he did it again. And again. And each time, Hurthul's thrusts grew faster and, though I could barely believe it, faster. 
 
Now, I'm not a masochist, but I don't mind a little pain with my pleasure. It heightens the senses, stimulates in interesting ways - and honestly, when you're tied up and blindfolded and don't know if you're going to feel a kiss or a slap, that little hint of anxiety can be mighty intoxicating. But this was too much. Hurthul jerked me up and down like a toy.
 
Every time he slammed me down onto his prick, it felt like I had been punched in the stomach. There was some pleasure there, yes, but it was nothing I could enjoy, little more than an automatic response from a body being pushed faster than it could take.
 
I squirmed atop him, calling the minotaur's name out between shrill cries, but the minotaur did nothing but jerk me harder, faster. Drool hung from his lips in thick strings and he lavished me with long, wet licks of his tongue, smearing my face and neck with glistening trails. Each sent a warm pulse of pleasure through my frantic body as his tongue rasped over my skin, but it was like a woman screaming into a thunderstorm, lost amidst the sick ache that radiated up from my core.
 
My knees were rubbed raw by the soil. Hurthul's eyes had rolled back in his head, the big bull animal lost in his own world. My heart raced. I tried to tell myself that I wasn't in real danger, that if I was going to be seriously damaged he wouldn't have gotten inside me in the first place. It didn't help. Panic started to sink its claws into me. Instinct kicked in. I lashed out, grabbing Hurthul's horns and dragging his head forwards. He blinked in confusion, some semblance of coherence returning, but it was too late. My own head snapped forwards, smashing horns-first into the minotaur's own rack. The sound of colliding bone seemed deafening. 
 
Hurthul bleated like a goat and slumped backwards. I wobbled, then collapsed atop the prone minotaur, shakily gulping down great breaths of air and testing my horns, anxiously making sure neither of them had chipped or cracked. Eventually, he groaned and sat back up, taking me by the arms and pushing me upright along with him. He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.
 
"Too fast." I said. "That hurt. Really hurt. And not the fun, sexy sort of hurt!"
 
Hurthul's ear twitched, and I silently cursed how hard he was to read. "Ah. See, this is why I chose not to mate in human lands, ya? Not wanted to hurt anyone. Apparently, still did."
 
"You didn't hear me screaming?" I asked, flabbergasted. Hurthul shrugged. "Min'da very vocal during mating. Thought you were enjoying it. Thought you wanted more."
 
He said something in his own language then - an apology, I assumed. "If you want to stop, I will understand." He added. His ****, still buried inside me, gave a sad little twitch. It was still hard. As much as it would have amused me to leave him with what might have been history's greatest ever case of blue balls, it seemed a little cruel. He didn't know exactly what I could and couldn't take. Hell, I wasn't even sure. And as my heart rate returned to normal (or as normal as it can be when you've got a *****, horny minotaur between your legs), despite the battering I'd just taken, I could still feel my own unsatisfied needs gnawing away at me. The tight seal where my lips gripped his **** tingled and sang with every little motion. I gave him a weary grin.
 
"No, no. Just let me take the lead from now on, right?" I said. Hurthul nodded.
 
We took a moment to rearrange ourselves. Hurthul leaned backwards, his broad chest and huge, animal head spread out before me, propping himself up on his elbows. I brushed the dirt and grit out of my knees and raised my hands above my head, arching my back and thrusting my small, pert ******* out towards him. Slowly at first, but with gathering speed, I began to grind myself atop the minotaur's swollen prick. My hips moved in long, smooth motions, back and forth then round in circles. I danced in place, twisting and cavorting as if I had just tossed aside my last garment after a strip show. His fur caressed my thighs and tugged at my lips, sharp shocks of pleasure cascading along my nerves. And all the while the hot, dense mass of his prick shifted and throbbed, every motion rubbing it against my deepest, most sensitive places.
 
Once, he tried to sit up and reached for me. My palms found his chest and, still swaying to a rhythm only I could hear, I firmly pushed him back into place. He was mine once more, a lover and captive audience both. The minotaur's eyes gleamed as they drank me in, running over my small curves as they thrust and swayed, my thick, black hair as it sprayed out behind me, the languid motions of my long limbs and tail. My hands were never still, flitting between us. One moment they stroked his muscular chest or traced a finger the length of his muzzle, another they cupped my ******* or framed my flushed, aching lips to show him how wet I had become. Just as his prick sated my body's needs, his eager, hungry eyes soothed my ego, healing the hurt his sudden, frantic mating frenzy had done to my pride.
 
Finally I motioned him upward. Hurthul rose, folding his arms around me, this time with a great deal more care, and pressed me against the hard muscles of his chest. His face was close to mine, his broad muzzle dominating my view, thick lips and yellow teeth inches away as I rocked, inexorably driving us both towards our peaks.  On a whim I grabbed one of his horns and pulled his head back, kissing him with reckless passion. It was like kissing an animal, and it didn't really work. His breath stank, his mouth was too large for our lips to lock, and spittle drooled into his little tuft of a beard and over the tops of my *******. I didn't care. I could feel my climax coming, my nerves lighting up one at a time, a great, swelling mass building inside me.
 
"Hurthul," I whispered, "Hurthul, I'm close."
 
It was so hot. My skin tickled wherever Hurthul's shaggy fur touched. He pressed me deeper with every upwards thrust, his arms folded around my slender body, hugging me close as I rode his searing organ. Every inch of skin that escaped his grasp was caressed by his breath and the heat from the fire. Sweat rolled down me, as thick as oil, matting the minotaur's fur as it was whicked away. Arousal clung to my thighs. Hurthul's saliva glistened on my face and chest as his tongue lapped over me. I rode through the highs of sexual euphoria, slick and wet, hot inside and out.
 
"And me." His reply was short, two syllables, barely more than a grunt. I could feel him inside me, throbbing and pulsing, eager to spill his long overdue seed into me. 
 
I craned upwards, gasping as his prick slipped halfway free and easily slid back into place. I held him, my arms wrapped under his, his huge, animal's head poking awkwardly over my shoulders. 
 
"You can **** me now," I said, spilling the words breathlessly into his hairy, twitching ear. "**** me like you did before. Make me see stars. Give me those four years."
 
And so he did. He was forceful, relentless, his swollen **** pounding up into me as I danced upon it, the deep ache of his thrusts blending with the bright, high sparks of pleasure that flowed from my entrance. But this time I was prepared, the wetness of my arousal inviting him into me, and despite my urging, I dare say that the big cow was a little more careful with me the second time around. My own motions grew more erratic, then slowed and finally stopped as I gave Hurthul control of me once more. I was coming, and coming hard, and I wanted nothing to distract me from the approaching climax.
 
Hurthul was reaching his own peak. He held me tight, hammering me with an avalanche of small, deep thrusts and grunting like an beast. I leaned into him, holding his gaze, locking that image of his strange animal head in my mind, reveling in the oddity - perversity, perhaps - of what was happening. Hurthul throbbed, pulsed, his **** seeming to swell inside me, and suddenly a great liquid heat flowed into my core, wave after wave of his thick seed spurting and lapping against my tender, silken walls. It seemed to go on forever, spilling out of my entrance in long, pearly strings, its warmth tingling against my outer lips as it trickled over them and gathered in his sweaty fur.
 
It was that which pushed me over the edge. So much pleasure, across so many points of my body, rose to an unstoppable peak. It flowed though me as relentlessly as Hurthul's thrusts had been, building and building until rational thought ceased. My body wanted to thrash and buck, to lose itself and vent the searing, thunderous mass of sensation into the air. I refused it. I held on tight to the minotaur's horns, locking myself in place and tensing every muscle I had as my climax ran its course, transfixing him with my wild, hungry eyes just as surely as he had transfixed me with the trembling, spurting organ locked between my thighs. We stayed like that for so long, locked together, as I graciously accepted all four years of Hurthul's pent-up lust.
 
At last we broke apart. The minotaur's prick was started to soften, and with a grateful sigh, it slithered from between my lips and I rolled off. His come was still oozing out of me, running over the sensitive spot at the base of my tail and soaking into the earth.
 
I swallowed, brushing my sweaty hair away from my face, and gave Hurthul a tired grin. "Well, over-enthusiasm aside, I enjoyed that." I said. Opposite us, the fire was starting to burn low, the flames reduced to a handful of glowing red coals. "Worth waiting four years?"
 
He laughed, once. Hurthul was in barely any better a state than I was. My hair was a wreck, but so was his, and only one of us was lucky enough to be hairless below the neck. I didn't envy him having to comb the drying come out of his fur either. "Reckon so." He said. "Still haven't answered my question though."
 
"What ques..." it took a few seconds for my brain to catch up. "Oh, come on! You're not still harping on about that, are you?"
 
"Not gonna stop 'till I get an answer. Min'da, or Dragonborn?" He replied. I sighed and glanced over towards the treeline. We'd made camp a few minutes away from a shallow pool of fresh water. Then I shot another look back at Hurthul, a devilish smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
 
"Well..." I said. "We do still need to get cleaned up. And I've ****** more than one Dragonborn in the past. Maybe we could do a few more tests? Don't tell me that after four years, you're a one-and-done sort of guy."
 
Hurthul looked at me, his great bull's face as unreadable as ever. But his **** twitched, once, and that was all the answer I needed. 
 
We spent a couple of days longer than planned out in the forests, hunting game and fooling around. By the time we got back to the city, his fur looked like he had been dragged backwards through a hedge, and I was walking with a noticeable limp. I promised to do a bit of digging, to see if I could find anything about the amulet Hurthul was searching for, and in return he gave me an address, and the solumn promise that for the sake of my reputation, he would only recommend one set of my services in the future.
 
Oh, and in the end, I officially called it a tie.