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“A Minotaur’s Tribute” by Stinkdog (part 2 of 2) [18+]

[18+] The Kingdom of Taros sends tribute to appease a beast on the border, but when the caravan is robbed, an unorthodox offering must be given.

Today’s story is the second and final part of “A Minotaur’s Tribute” by Stinkdog, who has been writing gay, anthropomorphic smut for nearly fourteen years, and you can find more of his stories on So Furry.

Last time, Sigmund, a soldier for the Kingdom of Taros was guarding a caravan bearing tribute for a local minotaur. The caravan was waylaid by bandits who took Sigmund prisoner and forced him to lead them to the minotaur’s lair, where they hoped to find treasure. We ended on a cliffhanger where Sigmund managed to escape the bandits but found himself about to be killed by the massive minotaur instead.

Read for you by Khaki, your faithful fireside companion.


Transcript
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This week's two-parter is an adult story for mature listeners.

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If that's not your cup of tea,

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or there are youngsters listening,

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you can skip these

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and there'll be new stories for you next week.

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You’re listening to The Voice of Dog. I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,

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and Today’s story is the second

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and final part of

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“A Minotaur’s Tribute” by Stinkdog,

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who has been writing gay,

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anthropomorphic smut for nearly fourteen years,

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and you can find more of his stories on So Furry.

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Last time, Sigmund,

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a soldier for the Kingdom of Taros

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was guarding a caravan bearing tribute for a local minotaur.

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The caravan was waylaid by bandits who took Sigmund prisoner

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and forced him to lead them to the minotaur’s lair,

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where they hoped to find treasure.

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We ended on a cliffhanger where Sigmund managed to escape the bandits

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but found himself about to be killed by the massive minotaur instead.

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“A Minotaur’s Tribute”

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by Stinkdog, Part 2

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of 2 Sigmund’s heart leaped up into his throat when a large,

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rough, human-like hand grabbed his shoulder and pushed his back firmly against the wall.

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Then a strange, cow-like snout began sniffling over his bare skin.

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Sigmund froze. Why wasn’t he dead yet?

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He clenched his teeth

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against the throbbing ache in his foot

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as the creature sniffed him.

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The nose moved down one of his arms and up the underside of it,

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dipping slightly into his now sweaty pit before moving across Sigmund’s damp,

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fuzzy, muscular chest

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and down his pudgy belly.

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It was an oddly arousing feeling,

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and shame colored Sigmund’s cheeks in the darkness

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as he struggled not to grow hard from the strange sensation.

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“I know your scent,”

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a deep, imposing voice said

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as the nose lifted from his skin.

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“You have been here three times before.” “W

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-what?” Sigmund was speechless.

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He had never even considered the idea that the monster could speak.

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“Why have you profaned my home

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with impure offerings

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and would-be thieves?”

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Sigmund’s mind raced.

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He had nothing to gain from trying to lie,

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and he doubted the creature would believe him if he did.

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His own nose picked up the musky,

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masculine scent that wafted from the creature’s large frame,

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and he could feel the heat radiating from it as well

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due to the monster’s previous exertion.

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“They waylaid our caravan.

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I am a soldier from the kingdom of Taros

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and was supposed to be guarding the carts.

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We were on our way to present you with the appropriate offering on schedule,

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but they killed everyone except me

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and threatened my life

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if I didn’t give them more treasure…”

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The beast snorted.

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“And now they are dead,

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but the bargain must be upheld.

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What have you to offer in place of your ruined tribute?”

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Sigmund had nothing.

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Well, perhaps that wasn’t true.

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A brief memory of the touch of the creature’s nose against his flesh made him gulp audibly

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at the thought of the one thing he had left to give.

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He wasn’t sure what the creature would do if Sigmund offered

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sexual favors. The size of the beast’s silhouette alone was enough to intimidate him,

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never mind the creature’s growling voice

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and the large hand that still firmly pressed his shoulder into the wall.

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“I… I have nothing.”

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He croaked hoarsely.

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“We both know that isn’t true, little man,”

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the beast said before a long,

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thick tongue dragged along his sweaty chest

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and over his swiftly hardening nipples. “W

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-wait, this isn’t part of the bargain!”

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Sigmund said through a groan

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in spite of his quickly growing arousal at the soft tongue.

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“You broke the agreement.

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I will have tribute,

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even if it means I must force you to give it.”

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The beast’s commanding words

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reminded Sigmund

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of an old flame from his training days.

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He was a drill instructor who had worked Sigmund to the bone during the day

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and then fucked him at night.

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What a pleasurable season that had been!

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The memory was making his cock rock hard in his pants,

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and he gasped as the monster effortlessly tore them from his hips.

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“Perhaps you won’t have to do much forcing…”

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Sigmund said softly

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as he felt crimson heat

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rush to his cheeks from the feeling of the tongue now sliding over his throbbing shaft.

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Sigmund gripped the monster’s horns

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and his… fur? He didn’t have time to think about that though,

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because the tantalizing tongue

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was rubbing over all of the right spots on his dick and

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urging him toward climax.

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Sigmund huffed and panted as the creature sucked and licked,

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rumbling low in its chest with pleasure as that large,

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rough hand rubbed the soldier’s toned,

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fuzzy chest. It was so lewd and perverse,

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the feeling of being blown by what felt like a bull,

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but the thing talked,

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so that meant… “Oh gods,

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I’m close!” Sigmund moaned

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as his whole body shook

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and the tongue wrapped itself around his pulsing manhood.

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His cock erupted thick semen into the beast’s huffing maw,

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painting that talented tongue white with his essence.

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The creature sucked and sucked,

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drawing his entire load into that hungry mouth

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until Sigmund’s orgasm slowed to an oozing trickle.

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Panting, he slumped on the wall

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as the beast pulled off of his length.

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“Yes,” the monster said.

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“You will make a fine tribute.”

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“What? But you’ve already…”

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“You were not purified.

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An unclean tribute

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does not satisfy.”

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The monster grabbed Sigmund’s arm

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and began pulling the naked,

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limping human through the darkness.

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“Ow! Hey, hold on, I don’t even know your name!”

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Sigmund’s cheeks burned once again

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as the beast scooped him up into its large arms

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and he was cradled against its very muscular, hairy chest.

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“You may call me Boros.”

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Sigmund’s heart fluttered from being held so close in the monster’s

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surprisingly gentle embrace

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as Boros clopped through the dark,

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maze-like halls of the temple.

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“How can you tell where you’re going?”

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Sigmund asked. Boros snorted in amusement.

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“Call it a sixth sense.”

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“But you can’t actually see in the dark?”

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“I don’t use my eyes if that’s what you mean.”

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Sigmund was silent for a few moments

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as the beast’s clopping hoof-steps echoed off of the stone walls around them.

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“You’re… more well-spoken than I assumed…”

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he said, trying not to offend the creature.

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“That’s understandable.

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Monsters typically do little to convince humans of their intelligence.”

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Sigmund curiously ran a hand over the beast’s thick,

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coarse body hair on its pecs,

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which caused a pleased rumble from the burly chest.

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“How long have you lived here?” he asked.

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“I would have thought that the tradition of tribute taught you the history behind it.”

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Boros rubbed Sigmund’s shoulder idly with a thick thumb as he spoke.

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“To be brief, I have been here for nearly two-hundred years.

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King Taros the Second...”

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The beast paused

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and sadness colored the tone of its voice.

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“Sorry, I wasn’t intending to bring up bad memories,”

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Sigmund said. Boros chuckled dryly.

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“No, it’s fine. The king was indebted to me, so in exchange for my protection of the nearby border crossing,

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the tribute tradition was created

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to guard against would-be monster slayers.

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It is only natural that rumors would spread,

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I just didn’t realize that they would overtake the truth completely.”

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Boros turned a corner

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and Sigmund could see a dim light down the hallway ahead.

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His heart began racing again

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as he thought of seeing the monster in full for the first time

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and his stomach tied itself in knots

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not only from the apprehension

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but also from the lewd thoughts of whatever else Boros had planned for him.

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The light became brighter

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and Sigmund looked up

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as Boros’s face was finally revealed.

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A brown-furred snout,

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thick like a bull’s

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and with a wide, brown nose that twitched in the damp air of the stone hallway.

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They passed a pair of carved marble pillars

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and torches placed on either wall,

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which caused Boros’s golden eyes to sparkle in the flickering firelight.

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Two scar lines split his right eyebrow diagonally,

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and another broke the fur just barely to the left of his left eye.

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His flat ears stuck out from the sides of his head

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just below his impressive,

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ivory-colored, curved horns,

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and the bull-man had a dark brown mane of sorts,

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though it was wild and unruly about his chin and cheeks,

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like a human beard.

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Below his neck, the fur disappeared

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and a normal, human body continued, though he was much larger than a human could ever be.

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Sigmund guessed that Boros was probably eight or nine feet tall.

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Coarse body hair

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covered the beast’s pecs and continued down past where Sigmund was being cradled

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in those massive

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and equally hairy arms.

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Boros stopped abruptly,

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jolting Sigmund from his admiration of the beast’s masculine form

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and causing him to look around at where he had been taken.

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The room was surprisingly well furnished.

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Taros the Second

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had certainly seen that Boros was well taken care of.

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The stone floor had a large,

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square carpet in the center

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depicting the Taros royal crest in red and gold.

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Several bookshelves

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sat about the room near an immense bed

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as well as near the wall where they had entered,

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shelves stacked with corked mason jars full of food and herbs.

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There was also a comfortable-looking armchair near a stone fireplace

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which was set into the left-hand wall.

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The only other exit to the room

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aside from the large, wooden door they had come through

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was another doorway on the right-hand wall.

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Boros carried Sigmund through it

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and into a smaller room that held a lavatory and a large,

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brass washing basin.

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Boros set Sigmund down in the basin

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and picked up a sizable brass kettle from the floor nearby. “Need I

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remind you of what will happen should you attempt to escape?”

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Boros asked, the menace returning to his voice.

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Sigmund shook his head.

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The sickening crunch of the bandit’s neck breaking in the beast’s

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bare hands still rang in his memory.

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Boros nodded and then smiled kindly at him before leaving the room.

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Sigmund craned his neck to watch the large, bull-man through the doorway

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as he placed the kettle on a hook

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above the fire. The soldier saw that Boros had a pudgy belly despite the thick muscles on his arms,

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shoulders, back, and chest.

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Sigmund guessed that the tribute kept the bull-man more than well-fed.

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Boros’s chest hair

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turned into a coarse trail

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that flowed over his gut

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and down under the waist of a pair of leather shorts that hugged the beast’s crotch,

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hips, and ass

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like Sigmund found himself wanting to.

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Boros’s legs were normal except for the brown fur that returned

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halfway down his shins

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and ended in a pair of black hooves.

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Sigmund’s cock twitched

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as he watched Boros’s striking figure disappear behind the door frame

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as he moved to the shelves full of jars.

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Sigmund sat in the tub

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as he heard Boros

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clopping about in the other room.

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The sound of a grinding mortar and pestle

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also reached his ears and he clutched his knees to his chest,

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unsure of what to do with himself while he waited.

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Did Boros plan to keep him here forever?

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Sigmund knew nothing of the beast’s customs

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aside from the tribute,

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and while the prospect of sex with the beast was a tantalizing one,

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he didn’t exactly want to be held captive for the rest of his life.

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Boros returned with the steaming kettle

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and a bowl from which a delicious smell wafted.

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“I hope this isn’t too hot,”

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Boros said as he poured some of the water into a small puddle

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at the other end of the tub.

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Sigmund tested it with his foot.

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“Th-that’s actually perfect...

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thank you.” Boros nodded

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and began filling the tub with the steaming water.

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Sigmund stretched out in the water,

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letting it peel the grime from his tired body.

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When the kettle ran out,

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Boros left the room again,

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leaving Sigmund only half submerged.

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It wasn’t long before the bull-man returned

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with another full kettle

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and filled the tub the rest of the way.

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Boros placed the kettle on the floor

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and then kneeled next to the basin,

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sprinkling the contents of the bowl over Sigmund as he did.

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He dipped one of his large hands into the water

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and poured some of it over Sigmund’s head.

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The soldier had to admit

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that being washed by the beast was very erotic,

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and he couldn’t help the stiffness that returned to his groin.

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The pain in his foot evaporated,

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and he floated contentedly in the warmth

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as Boros massaged the herbal mixture into his skin

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and tired muscles.

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“Rinse,” Boros commanded.

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Sigmund closed his eyes

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and slipped under the water.

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He heard the plug at the other end of the basin being pulled while he was submerged,

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and the water slowly drained away.

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Boros held a wool towel for him as he climbed out of the tub

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and the minotaur wrapped him up in it with vigorous rubbing.

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Boros's nose sniffed about Sigmund’s chest and shoulders

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as the towel dried him,

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and Sigmund began to feel slightly bolder.

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“Why did you spare me?”

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He asked. “Is it only for your tribute?”

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Boros chuckled.

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“In truth, your scent is familiar.

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You remind me of the way King Taros the Second smelled.”

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“And the two of you were lovers, I presume,”

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Sigmund said. The minotaur nodded.

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“Until the king’s death, yes.”

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“Did the queen know?”

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Boros shrugged as he tossed the damp towel on the floor

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and led Sigmund back out into the bedroom,

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gesturing encouragingly toward the bed.

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“If she did, I never heard of it.”

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Sigmund watched as Boros tugged his leather shorts down his legs,

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and couldn’t help the quiet gasp that came from his mouth at the sight of the minotaur’s

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almost foot-long endowment.

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As Boros placed a hand on his shoulder,

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urging him onto the massive bed,

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Sigmund could see that monster cock start to thicken

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and grow even longer.

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It was flat at the tip

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and had a pulsing medial ring, much like the erections of horses that Sigmund had seen by chance

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when cleaning the stables during his soldier training.

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The thought of that thing being forced into him

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made his knees weak

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and his stomach rolled over in apprehension. “A

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-are we really going to do this?”

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he asked. “Get on the bed,” Boros commanded in that authoritative tone.

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Sigmund gulped and slowly crawled up onto the animal-skin bedcovers.

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Boros followed and placed a firm hand on the soldier’s back

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when he tried to turn over.

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Sigmund’s heart pounded in his chest

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and his mouth quickly dried out.

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Boros would split him in half with that

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giant dick. There would be no recovering if the bull-man forced it inside of him.

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Sigmund heard a cork pop from a bottle

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and then gasped as cool liquid dribbled onto his skin.

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A pleasured groan escaped his lips

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as Boros’s meaty hands

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massaged the fragrant oil into his muscles.

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The minotaur made sure to cover every inch of Sigmund’s quivering body

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in the slick substance,

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his talented hands

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working over the soldier’s shoulders

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and then down over his back.

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His touch seemed to simultaneously electrify

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and relax Sigmund’s muscles,

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and the soldier’s senses

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reeled with newfound lust and need.

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His erection throbbed and stiffened under him

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while his head spun from the scent

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and the pleasure rolling through his body at the minotaur’s touch.

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Boros panted above him,

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the scent clearly having an effect on him as well.

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His massaging hands grew firm and intense in their movements,

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making Sigmund moan with relief

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and need below. The minotaur’s thick erection

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pulsed as it drooled on

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and rested against Sigmund’s thigh.

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Once Boros was satisfied that the oil covered every inch of Sigmund’s backside,

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his powerful hands gripped the smaller human’s butt cheeks and rolled them,

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spreading them just enough with each movement

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for his bovine tongue to snake out

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and flick the quivering ring of muscle.

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Sigmund gasped aloud

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as he felt the wetness of Boros's tongue invade him,

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his groaning voice rising to a crescendo

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as the oral muscle writhed and thickened as it sunk nearly six inches inside.

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Boros rubbed the soldier’s back gently

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as his tongue slithered in and out of Sigmund’s hole,

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huffing through his nose happily

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when the human began lifting his butt toward his snout with each thrust.

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Boros pulled his tongue free

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and Sigmund whimpered in disappointment.

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“Roll over,” Boros said through panting breaths.

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Sigmund did as he was told

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and the minotaur slathered more of the tantalizing oil onto

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his chest and stomach.

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The human didn’t know why,

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but the scent was driving him wild,

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filling his mind with unbridled lust,

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and making his cock harder than it had ever been in his life.

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Boros watched Sigmund’s throbbing,

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dripping shaft with much interest

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as he massaged his smaller lover’s muscles.

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As he moved his hands back up to Sigmund’s shoulders,

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his nose and tongue dragged along the soldier’s abs

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and up to his chest.

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Sigmund gripped Boros's mane

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and pulled the minotaur’s lips to his.

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Their mouths parted

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and each groaned in bliss

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as their tongues rolled about one another and Boros's heavy chest

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pressed into the smaller human’s.

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Their cocks throbbed next to each other,

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dripping their precum onto Sigmund’s abdomen

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as he and Boros tasted the heady oil

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and huffed with pleasure.

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Boros broke the kiss,

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face and chest flushed with desire.

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He poured some of the oil onto his hand

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and gripped Sigmund’s dick with it,

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stroking the soldier slowly.

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Sigmund’s muscles immediately tensed from the sensation

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as it sent his whole body thrumming with intense heat.

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Boros released his shaft

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and then, before Sigmund could say or do anything,

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the minotaur crouched over him

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and sat on the human’s throbbing length.

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The warm, tight, clenching passage

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enveloped Sigmund’s thick shaft

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like the human’s cock was meant to be there.

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Boros grunted in approval as he sunk to the base,

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panting and snorting through his nose.

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Sigmund marveled at the minotaur’s heaving chest,

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reaching up his hands to grip and rub Boros's pecs around the nearly two feet of bull-man dick

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throbbing inches from his face.

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When Boros lifted himself upward,

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a rush of heat and dizziness

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filled Sigmund’s head.

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It traveled downward through him

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as the minotaur sat back down,

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practically growling in pleasure.

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Sigmund’s balls churned.

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It hadn’t been long since he had cum in Boros's mouth,

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but his nuts already felt so damn full!

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He lifted his hips to meet the minotaur’s sitting rump,

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grunting as his nuts slapped Boros's beefy ass.

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The minotaur’s hefty sack never left Sigmund’s abs

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and the weight of it made Sigmund’s mouth

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water at the thought of how much delicious cum it held.

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The minotaur increased his speed,

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his hole squeezing

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and clenching around Sigmund’s throbbing shaft.

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“Give me what I want,”

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he growled in that menacing,

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domineering voice as he reached down and gripped Sigmund’s shoulders tightly.

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“Cum, boy. Give me tribute.”

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Boros glaring at him so sternly

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and the wonderful hole milking his cock

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made Sigmund moan aloud like a whore

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as his balls pulled up tightly to the base of his shaft

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and Boros grunted.

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“Cum for me. Do it, soldier!”

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Boros growled. “Y-yes, sir!”

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Sigmund cried as his nuts twitched

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and his shaft thickened.

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He let out a gasping grunt

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and erupted deep into Boros’s clenching asshole.

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The minotaur sat one final time

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and simply clenched his hole around the base of Sigmund’s cock

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as the smaller human

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shuddered and spurted thick, potent jizz into the eager bull-man.

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“That’s it. Give me your essence!”

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Boros demanded as his asshole clenched rhythmically

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and his own cock throbbed and dripped onto Sigmund’s chest.

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Sigmund panted as his orgasm slowed to oozing,

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and he lifted his head to lick at the slit of Boros’ monstrous manhood.

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A dollop of the minotaur’s precum

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hit his tongue as the mammoth shaft throbbed,

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and Sigmund swooned at the delectable taste.

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His tongue ran over the flat head

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and his hands stroked the veiny length,

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toying with the medial ring as Boros grunted and panted in response.

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His asshole clenched even tighter than before around Sigmund’s softening cock

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and without warning,

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the bull-man wrenched his meat away from the smaller human

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and pointed it to the right,

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bellowing as it erupted onto the floor next to the bed.

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Sigmund watched in awe

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as seventeen powerful spurts of minotaur semen

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splattered onto the stone,

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much of it landing several feet away.

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He rubbed Boros's shuddering muscles

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as the minotaur came.

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The smaller human kissed

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and licked the bull-man’s strong forearm

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as one massive hand held him down on the bed.

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Eventually, Boros's climax ended,

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leaving the minotaur shuddering

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and panting on top of Sigmund.

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The soldier’s cock

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had slipped out of the bull-man’s tightened hole

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and Boros gingerly laid himself down next to his human lover.

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Sigmund sighed as he basked in the afterglow and Boros placed a large,

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hairy arm over him possessively.

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“Forgive my… eagerness,”

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the minotaur said.

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“I haven’t… had relief in a very long time.”

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Sigmund idly rubbed Boros's pudgy belly.

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“I could tell.” He turned his head to look into the larger monster’s eyes

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and noticed that they were surprisingly human despite being set

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in such an animal face.

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“What happens now?”

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Boros smiled at him.

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“You are free to go.

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The agreement has been satisfied.”

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“So that’s it then?”

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Sigmund was unable to hide the indignation in his voice.

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“You’ll just use me like a dildo and then kick me out with not so much as a farewell, huh?”

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Boros was clearly taken aback.

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His ears folded backward on his head in shame,

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and his face turned into a piteous mask of regret and bashfulness. “I… W

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-would you like to return someday?”

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His voice had become quiet and timid,

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in stark contrast to his formerly aggressive attitude.

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Sigmund couldn’t help but find it endearing.

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A grin crept along the soldier’s face.

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“Believe me, I hope to return many times before the next pilgrimage.”

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This was the second and final part of

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“A Minotaur’s Tribute”

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by Stinkdog, read for you by Khaki,

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your faithful fireside companion.

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As always, you can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

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or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

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Thank you for listening

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to The Voice of Dog.

About the Podcast

Show artwork for The Voice of Dog
The Voice of Dog
Furry stories to warm the ol' cockles, read by Rob MacWolf and guests. If you have a story that would suit the show, you can get in touch with @VoiceOfDog@meow.social on Mastodon, @voiceofdog.bsky.social on Blue Sky, or @Theodwulf on Telegram.

About your host

Profile picture for Khaki

Khaki