The cosy, rustic kitchen was not as cosy as it used to be now it was missing the area of wall around the doorframe, but it was still a good place to tell stories.

The Minotaur had finished telling his.

His audience had not understood much of it. Dabney Lever, careworn dairy farmer, and his two children lived simple village lives. They knew nothing of the Minotaur’s strange world of merchant caravans, desert kingdoms, Idea Wars, Daleks, or Brexit.

Dabney only really knew about dairy farming and grieving.

Nikola only really knew about pleasing his demanding vampire lover, local gossip, and maybe a little bit about dairy farming.

Tatiana only really knew about dairy farming, giving epic handjobs, and variationist sociolinguistics.

Yet all three had taken away the most pertinent facts; the monster in their farmhouse kitchen had survived some sort of massacre and crawled to their barn to heal up. And now he was back on his feet.

“So you can imagine the emotional state I’m in, right?” asked Rutt the Minotaur. “I’m frustrated and shamed. Carrying a lot of pent-up anger and a deep-seated need to reassert my potency in the face of having been confronted with its inverse.”

“That sounds plausible,” said Dabney who understood because there was some overlap between those feelings and grieving.

Rutt drew his axe.

“Then you’ll understand why the only way for me to manage those negative feelings is for me to slaughter and fuck my way through this pissant village until every man, woman and child is dead, and the streets look like barbers’ poles from the streams of blood and cum.”

“I fucking KNEW it,” said Nikola.

Rutt raised his axe.

Tatiana grasped his penis.

"Excuse me?" said the minotaur.

"Let's just try this first, shall we?" said Tatiana. She was trying to sound confident and in control but knew her voice was catching.

She had never held anything like this in her hands before. Like most girlies, she had looked longingly at horsecock but never allowed herself to touch one. And what her fingers gripped right now was so much more than horsecock. So much fatter, yes, but so much more intense and threatening. To know that this fuckstick shared a nervous system not with the simple mind of a horse, but with the savage rampant mind of a barbarian Man-Bull. To know that this glorious cock was driven by a will and not mere instinct. To know that this cock was powered by desire and hunger, that it longed to fuck and rape. It was beautiful. It was the most beautiful thing in the world. The power and fury that lived within the plump dirty meat between the Minotaur's legs.

Tatiana did not know how to understand the shaft that she was holding. It was nothing she understood and everything she had ever wanted. It felt somewhat engorged, warm and bloated, like a human dick when it had a semi. Did Rutt have a semi? Or was this always how minotaur dick was? So full of life, so ready to harden. 

She gasped as his flesh answered her questions.

As his organ rose, and stiffened, and rose and stiffened again.

As Rutt the Minotaur's fuckstick ascended beyond horror, beyond monstrosity, and into the spectacular fulfilment of transcendent Eros. Into the true phallus. Into an expression of maleness that went beyond the reality of cis bodies and into the dreams that bodies have about themselves. In Tatiana's kind, feminine hands this unkindest of weapons grew too big for Plato's forms to contain it; YES! Grew bigger and harder than even the perfect idea of a cock, for how can the idea of a perfect cock precede the physical presence of one? That's not what cock is. Fuck Plato and fuck Lacan! The phallus is an immanent god.

Tatiana gasped.

Nikola panted.

Dabney turned gay.

In her hands, the village milkmaid held the erect, throbbing dick of a Minotaur. 

Rutt looked down at her with his big bull's eyes.

"You think you can handle this, bitch?" 

She estimated it was around thirty-five inches long and seven inches in diameter. But to describe it like that invited you to imagine a tube, a construct of simple clean geometry. It was anything but. The complexity and richness of this brutal organ demanded a lifetime's study. Right now, Tatiana had no idea how long she had to live, but she knew for sure that she longed to spend every moment learning every inch of this dick and how to pleasure it. The variegated hues that splattered down its length. The network of pulsing veins that criss-crossed its shaft. The places where its girth tapered and bulged. Worshipping this monster's rod was a worthy life's work.

"I asked you a question, bitch!" said the Minotaur, "You think you can handle this fucking dick?"

Dabney looked nervous. He knew his life depended right now on his daughter's handjob skills and the only handjob she'd ever given him had been kinda weird and upsetting. 

Nikola looked a lot more confident. His big sis had given him plenty of handjobs while teaching him how to masturbate himself, and they'd all been tip-top.

"I believe in you, Onee-chan," the Quasi-European, Pseudo-Medieval peasant twink whispered, "You got this."    

Tatiana spat on the minotaur's cock.

"Just watch me," she said.

Every stroke of his cock was a learning experience. How far up that impossible distance between root and tip should she glide her hands before changing direction? She wanted to feel it all, all that throbbing cockflesh between her hands, but she quickly discerned they must rise and fall faster to mimic the sensation of fucking close enough to excite and inflame his dick.

Not that wanking a cock should be exclusively a mimicry of penetrating a hole. It was an experience unto itself, with pleasures and sensations of its own, but that back-and-forth motion had to be an important part. It was the beat around which one composed the melody. The milkmaid had to find the rhythms that worked for a penis of this size.

She studied his reactions as her cupped hands journeyed along and around the girth of his leathery pole, so hot and heavy between them. How his wide, hairy chest betrayed the changes in the monster's breathing as she made longer or shorter strokes down the shaft. Once she knew that rhythm, the right rhythm, she could vary it. Send him into howling depths of pleasure by slowing it and tightening her grip, or racing to heights of exhilaration with accelerated, desperate pumping.

So Tatiana searched for the baseline pace, that perfect middle ground around which to orbit, working that monster dong with the studious expertise of a girlie who'd been raised to milk. But she couldn't let the Minotaur feel like this was happening. Couldn't let him feel like his wang was a science experiment. 

As she tested it and tricked it into disclosing the dick-data her fingers needed, she had to make her every motion feel like a lewd and worshipful act of devotion. Teases and squeezes and tricks and tickles were incorporated into the dance, so that the Minotaur would feel that all that was happening was play and lust, and not the deft precise work of a genius girlie learning exactly the right motions to make him cum harder than he ever had before. 

Tatiana found it easier to stay in the mindset of passionate devotion to his hideously large and leathery dong than the mindset of objective study. She knew what love was now. It was what she felt for minotaur dick. Minotaur dick was what all other dicks wanted to be. And the love she felt for it was what all other forms of love aspired to be. This was most pure and innocent human emotion; the love of a girlie for the destructive monstrosity of a Man-Bull's erection. 

"You love it, don't you, you big-titted whore?"

Tatiana gasped. Nobody had ever called her a whore before. Although she regularly received goods in exchange for sexual services, the word 'whore' did not apply to her within the shared conceptual framework that her speech community operated. Language being a system of associations and shared understandings meant that she could never be perceived or described as one for her duties as village milkmaid.

So nobody had ever called Tatiana a whore before.

She really liked it.

She moaned.

The minotaur sniffed the air.

"Your dirty little cunny is so wet right now, isn't it?" Rutt asked. "I can smell its disgusting stink. You got cunt juice pouring down your thick thighs like piss."

Tatiana lifted her skirt to show him, and peeled off her soaking panties.

We'll describe her vag a lot more in later chapters, but we're way over the intended word count for this one so let's just note that Rutt was very correct and move on. Tatiana's minge was wet as fuck.

She knew she was doing a dangerous thing by exposing her pussy. She knew that if he decided to plunge that clunge then she was one dead whore. But she wanted his eyes on it. So many people stared at her tits. She longed for Rutt to stare at her cunny with lust.

Wiping the palm of her hand along her twat, she covered it with her juices and then anointed the minotaur's holy dick with them. Her saliva and cunt juice coated his shaft, along with a little melted butter she'd secretly been oiling her hands up with before starting.           

Precum bubbled around the opening of his urethra. Even his precum was thicker and more plentiful than human cum, but the milkmaid knew it instinctively for what it was. 

Tatiana had never used her mouth on a dick before. Her hands always brought the villagers off so quickly that she'd just never gone there. But she knew she needed to show this meat how much she loved it.

She kissed the side of his shaft. Gently at first, then in a frantic sprint of pecks and licks as her mouth made its way to his cockhead. There, her tongue settled on its underside and began to lap like a kitty cat.

The milkmaid groaned as she realised something. There was so much more she wanted to do to his shaft, his balls, his besthole... but this experience was coming to an end.

Her milkmaid-senses were shrieking the truth; Rutt was about to cum.

Tatiana tore frantically at her dress to expose her boobies as a target. The fabric of her idyllic pastoral milkmaid outfit tore as her fat jiggly 36J udders spilled out. They were ready for their cream.

Rutt roared with laughter. 

"Put those dumb slutbags away, I'm cumming in your goddamn mouth!"

Tatiana panicked. Her composure and control broke.

There was no way. There was no way his dick could fit in her mouth. And she'd never even tasted cum before. There was just no way...

Rutt sensed her hesitation and doubt.

At once he grabbed his cock out of her hands and struck her with it. Slapped her right across her fucking face with his inhuman dick. Not with full force but enough to send her reeling to the floor. Tatiana took 1D4 damage.

The dynamic had changed. Rutt now held his own cock, and Tatiana lay bruised at his feet, her panties torn off, her titties exposed and her face streaming with tears.

"I'm gonna cum in your mouth, cunt," he explained clearly.

Rutt reached down, grabbed her by the left titty, and pulled her by it to her feet. The pain of being dragged aloft by one teat was immense, and the Milkmaid screamed.

"Aw yeah, you like that?" said Rutt. He was wanking his own cock now. "Now open your slut mouth or I'll tear this big fat titty right off your chest."

He gave it another sharp yank to show he was serious.

Tatiana opened her mouth wide.

And the Minotaur pushed the head of his cock hard against it. It was too big, naturally, to enter her mouth. But the feeling of slamming it abusively up against her open mouth felt good. And he was so close. So close to cumming.

His hand was off her mauled titty now. It was in her mouth. His strong fingers were raping her mouth-pussy good. Holding it open, prising it wider. Her jaw ached, held locked by the minotaur in a silent scream that the big-titted girlie felt all through her body.  

She was helpless in front of him.

Her mouth crowbarred agonisingly wide by the monster's gnarled fingers.  

His broad cockhead pushing against her lips.

She was ready. He was ready. Tatiana Lever looked like nothing now except a cum-toilet, its lid flipped right back and ready to be filled with wicked white.

Rutt the Minotaur shot his first load of seed.

Welling up from his nuts and thundering the long distance up his urethra, his mighty sperms raced towards his cockhead like an unstoppable storm. Rutt's own body shook from the force and speed with which the thick soup was being pumped along his rapetube. 

Then it broke from his body. His sperms glimpsed sunlight. The viscous rope of cum was shooting, pumping, hurling itself from the hole where Rutt ended and into the hole where Tatiana began.

There was no pulsation to this first jet. It was a steady, constant stream. Rutt's cum was being shot into Tatiana's mouth like the spray from a pressurised hose.

She flew backwards, her plump ass hitting the cold kitchen floor, seed and drool pouring from her mouth-pussy onto her teats. 

As she was trying to swallow some of the thick globs that filled her oral cavity, Rutt grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back to pray at the altar of Priapus. Her lips were against his dick again. His hands were gripping the back of her skull.

The milkmaid's mouth was about to take the second jet and, from this there was no escape. She would take the full force. The full impact. The full load.  

"Fucking take it you dirty little bitch!" yelled the hero, and jizz flung forth from him once again into Tatiana's face. An irresistible, barely survivable, waterfall of cum.

Tatiana was certain she was going to drown. Or choke. Or simply have the back of her head blown off as if shot through the mouth with a musket. The pressure and quantity with which seed was being projected into her mouth was unbearable. It was like standing at the bottom of a mountain with your mouth open while an avalanche tried to mate with your throat.      

She knew that if she tried to swallow she would drown for sure.

Her only way to survive this was to endure, seal her airways tight, let the cockcream fill her mouth and then spray back out onto her face, her titties, her beautiful curly, butter-blonde hair and all that surrounded her.

The panic, the passion, and the desperate struggle to survive this ceaseless stream of semen, exploded through Tatiana's mind. She was certain this seed tsunami was going to kill her, and her pussy gushed with juice at the horrifying thrill.

Then the second jet came to an end.

The milkmaid was alive.

Rutt the Minotaur looked down at her, licked his lips with his broad bull's tongue, and shot a third load of cum. 

Tatiana blacked out.

Not for long. But for a moment. Consciousness flickered.

Then she was back in the room. Rutt's remorseless semen plastered all over her face and hair and titty-pops.

Dabney and Nikola were on her titties too. Greedily, desperately, lapping and licking at the minotaur's jizz. They wanted it all. Mad with lust at what they had seen, her father and brother had to make themselves a part of it. They needed to fill their bellies with spunk until they felt included. They had seen heaven and they needed a taste. They needed to lick that thick, smelly minotaur cum right off Tatiana's slutbags.

"Nice work, cunny," said Rutt with a friendly smile, "That was damn good work. Damn good. Guess you can handle my cock just fine."

Tatiana began to laugh. With joy. With sorrow.

"Yeah," she said, "I guess maybe I can."  

She spat on his dick again. Not as lube this time, but as spit for the sake of spitting.

"You know what this means, don't you?" he asked.

She nodded.

"You're mine," said the Minotaur.