MINOTAUR TRIBE NTR - Anon Excerpt from the proposal letter of Dr. Michael Shaw, Professor of Cryptoanthropology at /trash/ University, and Dr. Nora Shaw, Professor of Cryptosociology at /trash/ University, August 28th, 2016 The opportunity from one of our research associates is, specifically, the openness and ability to visit the Malochian Tribe in Peru. How Minotaurs migrated to central and south America remains a mystery to this day, but the precedent of bull people living among ancient societies has strong documented evidence. Of these tribes, the Molochians have survived to this day and maintained some contact with the outside world, friendly to humans both native and foreign, but have never before allowed anybody to live with them and examine them on an academic level. They still lead a traditional tribal life style in Peruvian Amazonia, and the opportunity is one of great merit. Long have we examined the effect of cryptozoological creatures and their integration into modern society. We are at the top of our field in this research, as you well know. But one thing we have never explored is what the intersection might look like for a different society; how the Minotaurs of old were influenced by Incan civilization and tribes indigenous to the Amazon. By living among them for a year and learning their values, we can understand the ways they live. By doing so, we will gain perspective on not only how this tribe lives, but better understand the vectors of cultural exchange relating to the Minotaurs living in modern American society. In this way, we gain a rare opportunity to repeat the experiment of the cultural integration of nonhumans into our society, with a different culture that will give us new perspectives. It has similar workings to the long-term studies looking at faeiries coming over from the Sidhe realms and how they integrate into society, as well as work done on Kitsune packs in the most isolated reaches of Japan. The value of these comparisons is incredible, and we hope you will agree, and that we will have the funding we need to explore these new possibilities. *************************** Excerpt from the journal of Michael Shaw, June 1st, 2017 The final step of our travel went off without a hitch. We have arrived in the thick of the jungle, and as I write this entry, we are being led downriver to the Minotaur tribe. I have never been more excited to perform fieldwork in my life than I am right now; the anthropological implications of this Minotaur tribe are truly stunning, and to spend this year among them will be a great honour. Our boat slowly sails down the Amazon, and I can see my wife writing her ow journal, casting me smiles every time she looks up from her book. She’s as excited as I am. Our whole careers have led up to this moment, and we cannot possibly let this hold back. Nora's smile is infectious, but what takes me is how she's presented herself. Her long blonde hair is tied into a sleek ponytail with multiple ribbons all the way down it, pulled up over her shoulder so it's visible even from the front. She's never been this prettied up for field work before, but we're about to spend a year living among a tribe who still bathe in the river. I can't say that I blame her for it; this is her last chance to look nice before we accept a very different life than the one we're used to. Things like conditioner and make-up have to be left behind. I'll no longer have the smell of her shampoo wafting in from the master bath in the morning to help wake my senses. You can think you're as ready as you can be to go from suburban academic life into leading a tribal life for a year, but even before I've even arrived to the tribe, the little things are already building up. Nora's clearly gotten ahead of all that, making some concessions and final steps, which stand out delightful and subtle against her otherwise very standard and normal dress. She's wearing shorts and a button-up, all beige and simple and almost conventionally, traditionally 'explorer'. It's effective clothes, though. Light, not too tight, breathes well, suits the heavy and thick jungle air. There's a very floral freshness to all of it, a ***** joy like nothing else, but the air is heavy and humid. *************************** Except from the journal of Nora Shaw, June 1st, 2017 Slowly sailing down the river, I have so much on my mind. I keep looking up at Michael, and it's hard not to smile at him. We've never gone on such an intense and long-term trip for field work before, but I feel like we're going to come out of this with a positive feeling, overall. We're going to learn so much, but I believe that this time together is going to strength our relationship. Somehow. I'm not sure yet how. But it's going to go well. I keep shooting Michael smiles and readying myself for what’s to come. We've spent so many months preparing for this and even sent a year's break from our teaching positions. All for a trip where we get to live with no modern concessions or perks. Notebooks and pens are the only things we've brought, so we can record our personal journals as well as our research notes. No electricity, running water, computers, showers... I've had days before of those conditions. A week here in the desert, a few nights there in the forest. Never anything like this. This is going to be new for me. I look up at Michael again. he's a strong man in good shape, but I don't know how much they'll need strength once we arrive. Minotaurs are known for their physical abilities, after all. *************************** Except from Minotaurs Of the Amazon: Our Year with The Molochians Our arrival to the tribe was easy, thanks to the Minotaur we had with us, one who lived in this region and had already sought permission from the chief of the tribe. In every way we could discern, this was a South American tribe, a time capsule of huts made from the earth and the plants around, but when from hefty, whole and pieced off tree trunks for foundations and supports that added a certain scale to the huts unlike anything we'd seen in any books. The men and women of the tribe wore little in the way of clothing, but rather than baring expanses of sun-adored brown skin, it exposed furry, bull-like forms. Most of their bodies lacked the hulking definition of the Minotaurs we see in American society. To our understanding, this leaner variety of Minotaur has distant Sidhe lineage mingled in with it. Their men and women stood only a few inches taller on average than we do, and their frames were certainly broader and bulkier, but these were not the seven foot tall cattle folk we were expecting them to be. Their horns, their snouts, and their furred bodies brought the certainty this were Minotaur, though, and we initiated contact at last with the people of the tribe. "Welcome," the chieftain said. Around his neck, a wreath of ancient, clanging metal charms that had long sine rusted and grayed and worn down to no longer be easily identifiable hung. "Friends." He extended out his arms, holding a staff of gnarled wood into which the teeth of a great many creatures were embedded. Two Minotaur women beside him stepped forward with gifts of flowers, the smell of meat roasting open and open fire filling the air sweetly. Everything felt primitive, but very welcoming. The whole tribe had come out to see us, Minotaur of all ages standing to greet us, muttering to themselves in awe. We were welcome, awaited guests here, and many of these Minotaur clearly saw humans as a rare sight. We took our bows for the chieftain and introduced ourselves. He spoke some English. Enough to understand us, it seemed. "I am Jefa Caminante Pedrogoso del Cuerno Nudoso." Spanish. We were not expecting Spanish in return, spoken with stunning fluidity and fluency, albeit in his gravely, oaky voice. "Chief. You can call me Chief. That is easier. But also, friend. I want you to soon call me friend." He urged us in closer, hugged us both. We did not expect such welcome and warm treatment, but it was a positive sign of things to come. *************************** Except from the journal of Michael Shaw, June 1st, 2017 Our first afternoon and evening with the Minotaurs has been wonderful. I've never seen a group of non-humans so impressed and excited by the presence of humans before, and I'm sure the shock will wear off, but for now, we have been welcomed in the tribe. Nora and I will help however we can through our year. There is little need for brute strength among these men; they are stronger than I could ever be, but their large and powerful hands are far less skilled at more fine work. I suspect I will be putting my hands to work far more often in fine matters. It's fortunate I brought some tools with me, because the knives that the Minotaur use to cut branches down are too big for me to wrap my hand around, despite their more human-like size. It is an incredible thing. At dinner, they fed us well. The Minotaur have developed a strong agricultural base, and used their ability to easily deal with trees to hew the jungle down in places and develop crops. It is as cramped and chaotic as one would expect a farm space run by Minotaurs to be, but it is still a marvel I could not tear my eyes from once I set my gaze upon it. They fed us very well on cooked boar and vegetables, which they stewed in the largest pieces I have ever seen vegetables stewed, but the result was still impressive. I was not expecting a fine dining experience, but the care and eagerness with which they gave us this food was startling. They welcome guests. perhaps they've been waiting for a chance to have them. How long? I can't even imagine. We ate their food happily. It wasn't the strongest flavoured or most well prepared cut of meat, but they shared with us what they had, and the taste of wild animals from the jungle is certainly its own beast. My own family never made me feel as welcome as these people do. These people who have little, and hunt for much of their food daily. It is a kindness that fills me with warmth, and already my research note musings are a scrambled mad scrawl of curiosities and possibilities I have not yet begun to fully comprehend. These Minotaurs have learned a different sort of humanity than others have; it's a kindness and a generosity, the sort of human spirit that perhaps we've lost track of in our own society. These people share what they have graciously, and of course they expect us to contribute and help while we're here, but in the time we're and helping, they see us as part of their tribe, as welcome friends, and we'll be taken care of. I did notice one quirk that I did not expect. Chief is very physically affectionate. More so than even the other Minotaur of the tribe, which makes me suspect it is a personal quirk rather than a cultural thing. He is free in placing his hands on my shoulder or even pulling me into powerful hugs with his strong arms, calling me a friend. He similarly touched Nora in many ways, at one point massaging her shoulders. I've encountered enough cultures to not worry to much about it and to not care all that much about the ways that it comes across. *************************** Excerpt from the journal of Nora Shaw, June 8th, 2017 I spent another day helping with minor tasks. In a few days' time, one of the women is going to stop tending to the crops due to how far her pregnancy has progressed, and I will likely be put to take her place. It will be somewhat harder work than what I'm already working on, but I welcome the opportunity and the chance to do something different. The hard work feels rewarding to me, and like a change from my day to day routine I will still need time getting used to, but I'm ready to make that change. It's only been a few days, but their kindness hasn't stopped, hasn't dulled. We have integrated seamlessly into the tribe now and are welcomed as parts of it. There is one... Complaint? Issue? I don't know for sure if it is or not. But the way that Chief is openly physical with me has given me a few moments of concern. He seems fine, and has done nothing to push any boundaries, but his touches with me would be inappropriate in any space back at home. He will sometimes brush his fingers through my hair or even bring a brush to it in general, complimenting its softness. I wore the lower buttons of my shirt open today to allow some more exposed skin to breathe, and he ran his hand along my stomach each time he did so, commenting on how smooth my skin is. I am doing my best not to think too much of it. He just doesn't know, I'm sure. He doesn't see how it's inappropriate, and I'm sure my body is a tactile wonderland for him. Soft, hairless skin. Hair that ahs been well kept with conditioner and shampoos for years. We're the first humans to ever stay with this tribe for this long already, and I believe it's only a matter of cultural misunderstanding. Nothing for me to be worried about. Once he gets bored of my body, everything will be fine. *************************** Excerpt from the journal of Nora Shaw, June 15th, 2017 Today, Chief called me into his hut from the fields. "You are a very beautiful woman," he said. "More beautiful than any f my own people. So delicate and slight." As he spoke, his hand reached into my shorts, another grasping my back. I didn't realize until it was too late how close he was to me, and as he pushed one thick, furry finger into my *****, I let out a confused noise, his powerful hands making sure I was not going to be able to pull back at all. "Your husband is very lucky to have you." "That's right, I have a husband," I stressed. "So you shouldn't be doing this." "Why not?" he asked. It confused me enough to have no idea how to respond, and he continued to push the finger deeper into me. "Yes, very lucky man." Did he not understand the concept of marriage? Of monogamy? It was worrying and confusing, and I tried to squirm out from his touch and al the unfortunate reminders and presence that came with it. but he pulled me in tighter still. "And my friend! Friends share." His finger probed me deeper, and it may not have been welcome, but it filled me so much, touched me so expertly that I... No, I should cross this all out. Wy am I writing about being molested by a minotaur? This is supposed to be reference material for a scientific record. I tried to pull away. He kept me in tight against him, pushing into me. It has somehow eluded mine and Michael's notice, but it seems that monogamy is no a thing to this tribe, and his comment about friends sharing fills me with concern and worry for what is to come, for the year we have ahead of us. He continued to finger me, and I'm not afraid to admit, I... I did climax from it. His finger was just so thick and so strong. I didn't like it, but I didn’t like the way his tongue forced its way into my mouth, either, probing in and making me winced as he kissed me. He let me go, thankfully. Graciously. "We will talk again," he said, gave me a pat on the ass, and sent me back to the fields burning with embarrassment. I hope that this is an isolated incident, and that I do not have to ever tell Michael about what happens. I'm putting these words down now only because I have nobody to confide it; an unfortunate ink spill will blot these paragraphs out before we're done here. I won't let this ever come out. I love Michel too much to hurt him with this information. *************************** Except from the journal of Michael Shaw, June 19th, 2017 I woke up last night to what is in so many ways my worst worry coming to life. Wet, sloppy sounds shook me from my sleep. Intense ones. I didn't know exactly what they were or how to deal with them as my eyes slowly opened, and I tried to figure out what was going on, why this was happening, only for me to behold the indecent truth before my eyes. In my bed, Chief lay with his head between Nora's legs, which he spread out with is powerful arms, licking and slurping at her clit while he moved one big, fuzzy finger into her *****. I was so nervous and confused by this that I lay there in silent worry for a moment, wondering what to do with this information, wondering how to speak up. I couldn't. "Please, don't," Nora whined, but the pleasure in her voice outweighed the reluctance. I felt a deep shame throb through me as I watched another man eat my wife out, and watched her struggle not to like it. She wasn't doing as great a job as I would have liked either, but the overbearing presence of a Minotaur lying on the bed of leaves and forcing her legs apart was not something she had much of a chance to fight off. I couldn't blame he for this, and as I began to stir and looked toward Nora, she shot me back apologetic glances burning with so much embarrassment and worry; she couldn't do anything about this, and she was worry. Chief noticed I was up, too. He drew back a moment, and in his rumbling voice said, "She tastes so good. Very lucky man," before shoving his mouth tight in against her ***** and flailing his tongue about inside of her. I watched my wife thrash under that burst of pleasure, watched her heave and gasp out in guilty ecstasy, his fingers all over he again. "I'm sorry, Michael. I didn't want this," she told me. I believed her. I still do. But the way that the pleasure so visibly and drastically tore through her made it hard to feel better; even fi she didn't want this, Chief was doing something to her that was unreasonable but also so much more than she was equipped to deal with, and I couldn't help but feel terrible about all of it. About seeing her in this position. Just when I thought this wasn't going to get any more unfortunate or embarrassing, she came. Before my very eyes, my wife orgasmed and shuddered under the frantic, chaotic swell of utter pressure that coursed through her veins. her ***** gushed a sudden spurt of clear liquid against Chief's face, and that made him roar in joy, powerful and hearty laughter that made both Nora and I sink in even greater shame, unsure what to say or how to stand up for ourselves in this embarrassing crash, this mess of worry and panic that left us both with questions, concerns, terror. "This was good. Sleep well." Chief pulled away with a smile and my wife's juices dripping off of his face and walked away. *************************** Except from the journal of Nora Shaw, June 19th, 2017 I had never been eaten out so hard in my life. It was horrible of me to lie there thinking about that as Chief walked away, but I couldn't help it. My body struggled not to shiver, hips wanting to rise off the floor as I lay there, but I held back for Michael's sake. "I'm sorry," I said. Repeatedly. I had to. "It's okay, I know," he told me. He pulled me in closer and kissed me softly. Several times, over and over. He was careful and caring and considerate as always, the man I love. I didn't think I needed the emotional consolation at the time; like I wasn't going to cry over it. Now, with sleep and time and perspective, I feel like the only thing keeping back the tears was his warmth. Michael is my love, my rock. I'm glad he isn't mad at me, and hopefully this won't come between us. *************************** Except from the journal of Michael Shaw, June 24th, 2017 Ever since that night, I’ve been looking more discerningly at how Chief acts around women, not just Nora. "That night". Fuck, I can't even put the words down on appear. It's too embarrassing to let them sit there, but there's just no way for me to deal with it an what it means. It happened. I'm not happy with it. Not proud of it. But all I can do is accept it, loathe as I am to admit it. I've not taken any of this out on Nora. I refuse to resent the love of my life for what another man did to her. But I've noticed patterns. he isn't inappropriate with all women, but the ones who he is spend a lot more time around him. Sounds of pleasure from his hut have started to catch my notice; I think I ignored them before, but now they have become impossible not to notice. As I've come to know more of the Minotaurs and their connections to each other, I've noticed that the men who Chief is friendliest are the ones whose women he pulls into his hut. But I don’t believe it's a matter of being nice to men to get to their wives; this seems to be the custom her, at least for the chieftain of the tribe. "Friends share," Nora told me he'd said when eh first molested her. I'm starting to understand now. I like none of it, but there is little I can do here. Rising early in the morning, I've noticed that some of the women even sleep in his own hut. Sometimes for days at a time, and everybody accepts it. I fear that, given time, my wife might see that same fate, and I wish I knew how to step in and stop this. I don't know how to say anything, but for now I just have to pray that nothing goes any further. *************************** Except from the journal of Nora Shaw, June 30th, 2017 Chief called me to his hut again, eating me out once more and commending me on the taste of my *****. He's getting bolder. Each day he calls me on and gets more forceful with me, but today things escalated even further. "You taste different. I like it." He always said something to those effects. It didn't make me feel particularly great. "Soft skin. White. Gentle. Smooth." His tongue dragged along my folds and continued its reckless pushes, leaving me to shudder and shiver under the sensations he just kept hitting me with. I had no way to deal with any of it, falling deeper into what he wanted from me. These daily occurrences keep testing my will. It feels good. I know that much. I hate that it does, but the more I try to fight it the more hopeless it feels, so I'm left simply taking it. Wondering. Waiting. There’s no sense to any of this, but the Minotaur's tongue brings me to orgasms that I can't possibly fight against. It's the greatest shame I've ever known, but it keeps happening, and there's not a damn thing I can do to stop it, leaving me churning in the deepening swell of weird misery and frustration that I remain so powerless to fight. He dives in on the floor. Devours me. I can't say he isn't a compassionate lover. He indulges in me like a fine meal, and I hate that it feels so good, but the thrill of being loved and tended to here is oddly exciting and rewarding in ways that I remain completely unable to deal with. It's unreasonable and wild and only getting more bizarre by the second, but what else can I do? I'm powerless here, powerless against him, and he uses me for his own enjoyment, eating me out, priming me. Every moan I offer him is a concession to his dominance, a deeper push into the acceptance of what he was doing and how badly I needed to get more of it. It felt so sinful and depraved, but all I could do was continue to fall deeper, to be enthralled by what he offered and how raw it was. I came again for him. Moaned louder and more desperately than I had before. Same old story, same old plunge. Lying on the floor, I wondered how to handle myself and what was continuing to take me, throwing all caution away for the sake of the embrace of something rawer and madder than I knew how to handle. Chief looked down at me as he rose up, and I wondered what he was about to do; he'd never given me quite this kind of look before when he ate me out, and that was when I noticed the shift of is loin cloth, the tug away, the rising of his cock, and it was only in that too-late moment that the realization hit me. I had never before seen Chief's cock. He presented it to me proudly, and I shouldn't say this as a married woman, but he had every reason to be proud. So incredibly long, so incredibly thick, auburn flesh standing rigid and quivering, tattooed with black ink and markings all along it. It was amazing, and every shred of sense I should have had in me was saying not to do it, but my hand reached out anyway, grasped his shaft. Began to stroke it. "Yes. It's big," he said. Sounded so proud of himself. Fuck, he should be. "You can touch it, of course. Friends share." Friends do share. It's insane to think, but I find myself drawn deep into a need now so brazen and so wild that there's just no way to resist this all. I want it too badly, and there's no way for me to deny now all the cravings and desires that come with it. I'm stroking his cock now. Stroking a man who is definitely not my husband, and all I can do is stare. He feels so warm in my hand. Almost burning ***, like the heat between my legs as I pump along his shaft, back and forth, transfixed by his massive prick and by feelings that I should not be feeling under any circumstance, but which take hold of me and leave me absolutely floored. I can't deal with these cravings, can't resist the sensations that take tight hold of me and make he crave him so utterly. He has a way with me now, and I'm ashamed of how readily I'm giving in to that way, how much I'm accepting his treatment and the transfixed need with which I stare at his cock and crave. Oh no. I'm just reading back what I wrote, and I'm getting so caught up in the moment that I've reverted to writing in the present tense because of how vivid the memories are becoming. The mark he left on me is so strong. It scares me. I won't write any more details. I don't know what I'll do with those words again, but. It's clear what happened. I felt like my judgment was clouded and I gave him everything he asked, and he came on me. I cleaned it off, but as he did, he asked that tonight, I come sleep in his hut instead. I'm writing this entry now before I go, not sure I should bring my journal there and not sure how to make this slow down, either. What do I even say to Michael about this? Do I tell him that's escalating? Do I tell hi, that I'm being asked for in the chieftain’s hut and that we're about to escalate into an even weirder and more insane plunge none of us are ready for? This is so wrong, and I'm too confused to know what I should do next, which only wears heavier on the mind as I try my best to think about my options as they all fall further and further away from me. There's too much raw excitement and commotion for me to wrap my head around here, and I try to steady my thoughts, but thinking back to what happened in that hut fills me with so many confused feelings, and I'm conflicted, but god help me, I think I'm going to Chief's hut tonight. It's not like I have a choice, anyway. *************************** Except from the journal of Michael Shaw, June 30th, 2017 Nora didn't come home tonight. I arrived late back at our hut, having spent extra long mending some holes in a few hut roofs, which seemed important enough to warrant putting in the extra time. When I got there, she wasn't anywhere to be found, and immediately I feared the worst. My chest tightened up, the overbearing and oppressive sense that I was about to be proven upsettingly right in my fears slowly creeping over me, making he look around in worry. In shame. I walked over to Chief's hut worried about what I'd find, terrified that the final step over the lien had been taken and I was walking into the upsetting surprise and rude awakening that frightened me down to my core. Each step I took was terrified, nervous, driven by the terror I'd find something I was going to regret, but I knew I needed to find out. What I didn't know was how much the answer would hit me. Chief had Nora down on her shoulders and her head, legs lifted up in the air as he fucked her in the piledriver position. Not something I ever thought I'd see executed in real life, let alone by a beast of a man like Chief. He thrust down into my wife, and the size of his cock was enough to make me burn with immediate shame and guilt, a worry that did no favours to any of what I was dealing with now. I watched in shame at the sight of another man fucking my wife, and it wasn't like waking up to him eating her out in bed; he was using her for his own pleasure now, and doing it hard, pushing on to enjoy her body, but more than that.... She was liking it. Nora didn't know I was there as I peered in from the doorway. She didn't see me, and had no reason or way to shoot me nervous and apologetic looks as Chief utterly savaged her. There was reluctance in her expression, sure; she did seem like she was nervous about this. But she took it. God, she took all of it, and I couldn't believe my eyes, but it was right there, blatant, wild, so senseless and so unstoppable. She was enjoying this, and there was no amount of reality or care or control that was going to save her from admitting it now, thinking it was just the two of them. Every sound she made was a conflicted mess of emotion. But maybe it wasn't. Maybe I just told myself that she sounded conflicted to soothe my own shame and reassure myself that I wasn't watching a man fuck my wife harder than I ever could, with a beastly bull cock bigger than mine. A bull in ways more literal than I was comfortable with now. He thrust into Nora, made her moan hand heave and give up to so many things that left me full of shame, and yet all I could do was stare, watching what he did to my wife without any idea of what to say in response. I watched another man make her cum. One of the least proud moments of my life, by far. Nora twisted and wiggled on the floor, flailing abut as the beast held onto her legs, and the gasps of intense, maddening pleasure she let out left no doubt in my mind that she was giving in, enjoying what she felty and surrendering to the idea that this was what she wanted. I was humiliated from a distance, not sure what to think but so full of dizzy emotions and a desire to leave. but then came the other mess; Chief loudly and feverishly climaxing too, his cock pulsating as he came inside my wife. My! Wife! A man that big wasn't one I could confront easily or argue with, and through it all he kept on such an affable appearance; there was no bitter mockery, no moment where he acted like he was stealing her from me or like this was anything other than normal. All while he came so much inside Nora that as he drew back, even more cum sprayed into the air and down onto her body and face. Ropes of bull cum that made a mess of my dizzy and nervous wife as she lay there in ready need, trembling and clearly ready to accept more, fi he chose to gave it to her. And he did. Through the night, I'm sure, but with my stomach sinking to the ground, I had to pull away. I couldn't watch this. *************************** Except from the journal of Nora Shaw, July 1st, 2017 When Michael pulled me aside in the morning, I knew exactly what he wanted. I couldn't exactly pretend it was anything else, but I hadn't expected him to have peeked in. To see it. I felt so ashamed, collapsing against him, begging for forgiveness before he'd even gotten another word out. I was hasty; he wasn't mad at me, but there was something he needed to discuss. I knew what was coming, and it scared me. "Should we leave?" He asked the question and then fells silent. Even he wasn't sure himself, and I can't say he's wrong to doubt this. It wasn't right at all, and both of us knew something here was very wrong, but neither of us were able to articulate that with any real commitment. "We worked so hard on this trip," I told him. "We only have a month of notes so far," he agreed. In one breath he wanted to leave. In the next, he knew we'd be throwing everything away. It was the duality and shame of this situation for us. We looked at one another. Our eyes said a lot. Said anything that needed to be said, really; we were both chilled to the bone by something so strange and impossible. We had every reason to leave, but it would have cost us so much time and money. All the funding we secured and had already spent would have gone nowhere. The year taken off would have been in vain before the summer break was even halfway over, because Miskatonic already had replacements in for our posts for the year. Even if our marriage and trust wasn't in jeopardy, doing this was absolute absurdity, and yet we both stood there agreeing, reluctantly, that it was best. And yet we both had a certain sense we were going to regret it. *************************** Excerpt from the journal of Michael Shaw, July 3rd, 2017 Chief came to me today. "Friend! Your wife is incredible. The tightest ***** I have ever felt. No matter how many times I fuck her, she remains so tight. Is this the power of human women? It is incredible." "Y-yeah, she's an amazing woman." What was I supposed to say? Staring at Chief, I felt like I was losing my mind. He was so blatant about it, but the friendly face greeting me seemed so unaware of wat he was saying in any practical terms. He was completely ignorant to the reality of his words, blissfully unaware of how wrong all of this was, and his lack of reality and sense of understanding sook me to my core. He was so outrageously over the line and anyone else would have known it. "When she cums, her walls squeeze down around me so much. I'm sure I don't need to tell you." He laughed and slapped me on the back. As friendly as ever. No malice in his voice, none of the things I would expect a man who's spent half a week fucking my wife on the regular to say to mock me. In some fucked up way, it was almost pure. Which only made it worse. Weirder. How do you explain to a Minotaur with barely any concept of way more basic Western societal conventions the concept of marital faithfulness? Before I could answer that question, he continued. "Chief can make lots of decisions about who works where. Your wife is working in my hut now. I don’t know the word in your language, but she is one of my lovers. My wife now." He laughed again. "Our wife!" This was insanity. But he didn't ask, didn't see if it was okay; he made his declaration and I just had to accept it as law of the tribe. I could have argued. Could have insisted that this was wrong, but. I was deep in the familiar graces now of a strange, strange man, and his friendship, unfortunately, meant access to the most important research of my career. Nora had been okay enough with it to not want to leave. if she was comfortable with this, then I supposed I had to be. Even if some dark part of my min was reminding me that the size of Chief's cock may have been swaying her thoughts. I didn’t think to think about it, but it was hard to ignore that inequality in this situation. "Our wife," I said. I hated myself for it. Agreeing to let this Minotaur use my wife as his concubine. We still had eleven months left in this tribe and I was agreeing with Chief that she was our wife now. What the fuck is wrong with me? *************************** Excerpt from the journal of Nora Shaw, July 16th, 2017 I've finally had my journal and ink brought back to me. I haven't been able to negotiate much out of Chief in terms of time or space away, He's a voracious *** beast who seems to be ready to fuck me around the clock, no matter how inappropriate. I've at least managed to convince him to leave me time to resume my journal again. Not that, in this hut, I'm able to do much to conduct my research. It seems that sexual slavery to the chieftain is one of the tasks a woman can fulfill in this tribe, which would have been nice to know when we offered our help however they needed it. It may not have been so unconditional. For two weeks now, I've been the concubine to a Minotaur. Two weeks spent having *** at least hourly with a horny bull man who can't keep his hands off of me. My struggle only deepens and gets stranger by the day, but it's starting to were me down. Starting to push me from the strength I want to have and the focus I feel that I need to not fall off the deep end. The *** with Chief is, much as I hate to say it, incredible. He has a stamina and ferocity I can hardly believe, treats me with an odd mix of roughness and control that lead to me completely unraveling every time. His cock is huge, and I can't go more than a few hours without him giving me a squirting orgasm. The last time *** as ben this wild was when Michael and I first began dating. I don't say that damningly; I love Michael. He has never disappointed me in bed. We have a wonderful *** life. but Chief is, fitting of a Minotaur, a beast. It's such base and crude language, but there's no other way to phrase much of this. I want to keep it an academic log and a proper journal for research purposes, but in the two weeks since I have last been able to write, my life has become so deeply entrenched in sexual indulgence that it's difficult to contain or conduct myself as I want to. [...] In the middle of writing this, Chief pulled me away again. "I can't wait," he told me. "Finish later." I looked up from where I sat hunched over the journal on the floor to see Chief’s cock throbbing and twitching right in my face, as imposing and as remarkable a sight as I could have ever fathomed. It's monstrous and enthralling, and has a funny way of dulling my thoughts whenever I see it. My mouth opened obediently, as he grabbed the sides of my head. Two weeks of sexual servitude has conditioned me well, I think. His thrusts down my throat came o quickly. I couldn't handle him at first like this. Trying to deepthroat Chief was too much struggle and trouble, and I was fortunately able to mostly make him back off from trying to push it upon me. That didn't last too long, but I've also learned how to handle it now, and while sometimes he'll ask me to suck his cock and take the lead myself, times like this, it's all about a raw, messy facefuck. As he plundered down my throat, the increasing struggle and frantic heat rose. He filled my throat up more than I thought it could handle, every time inspiring in me a worry that never fully diminished. I let go of the book, placing my hands onto his thighs and holding on firm, letting him thrust deeper into my mouth, allowing him to use me with little sense of understanding or control. I let him use me, becoming so compliant and so firm, ready in a helpless and frustrating seen that felt like it eluded reason. This felt like what was expected of me now. Dropping everything to assume a submissive and obedient position, letting him use me with deep and thorough motions that drove forward his firm, confident push, firm control and a readiness that left my head spinning, made me struggle to understand how I wanted to get around this .Every push was another threat, another forceful shove down into exactly what he demanded of me, and I was helpless to do anything about it. Fingers tightened in my hair. Chief didn't say a lot when he fucking my mouth. Maybe it took too much effort to try and speak in another language the whole time. Maybe he had just shifted into a feral need to use me that no longer grasped any sense in this situation. All I knew for sure was that he got rougher with me on each thrust, more careless, more ferocious. Feral joys and hungers that grew fiercer and more potent on each shove forward, a ragged, writhing rush of aggression. He never got easier on me, just a constant escalation, a push to treat me more and more like the Minotaur women who occasionally came by. I seemed to be the only woman permanently living here, and I can never tell if the Minotaur women are grateful or jealous. It's clear to me that none of the Minotaurs see it this arrangement as anything but utterly normal, distressing and bizarre as I find that. Drool ran from my chin, and I pushed the book out of my lap, shielding it from the dripping of spit as he used me rougher. This was what the women of the tribe were expected to do, but good god was it over the line. I'd never had ex this rough with Michael, but I was developing a taste for it now, as Chief continued to use me so viciously, as he imposed upon me something strange. It's difficult to resist a man like him. That much I can't help but confront. Chief has a way about him. A power. A presence. I'm hardly falling into Minotaur *** cult or anything, and my love for my husband remains firm. But I understand now why Minotaur *** cults are a thing. His mighty cock plunging down my throat brought on so many peculiar swells of emotion and ferocity, things I had to accept as the only choice before me, and I continued to serve deeper and hungrier, need overwhelming my thoughts and driving me to give in. I sucked on this mighty cock for so long I lost track of time, not sure anymore about its passage. Meals were my only anchor given how much *** he wanted at all hours, and I had to ask Michael to be certain of the date because of how much time has become a dizzy mess. Chief’s cock was there, all I could deal with, all I had to deal with. When he came down my throat, it was with a mighty roar. A powerful swell of greedy hunger and arousal and all the things that made my head spin. His vulgar use of my body was absolute and it was without sense, but god did it feel amazing, even just to feel him blow his load in my stomach. To use me like this. It was so wrong and peculiar, but I craved it in some weird way, and as he pulled back, his cock remained rigid in my face, twitching. "A kiss," he told me, and I leaned forward to plant one onto the tip. That was part of my responsibility too. He drew away and left me to resume writing. I wiped the spit off my chin, opened my book back up, and resumed writing the journal again. Looking back now at what I have on this page, I worry that the real danger here is to my research. I trust Michael when he says he's okay and that he's not mad with me about this. But we were supped to come here to document so many things that I can no longer contribute to. My research notes are all but abandoned and my personal log feels like a diary of sexual encounters now rather than anything of scientific merit. I must never let the university know that they have funded my trip to spend a year the live-in *** slave to a Minotaur. *************************** Except from the journal of Michael Shaw, August 8th, 2017 I finally got private time with my wife. It's been over a month. I've seen her, sure. At meals and such. I'm not being kept from all contact with Nora, and there remains seemingly no malice or ill intent behind what he's doing. And yet, the effect is one where I have not had a private moment with the woman I love for so long that it's becoming maddening. It is a spectacularly strange and insane situation. But today, one of the boys of the tribe is coming of age, and Chief is performing rituals with him that have given us some time to relax and escape, spending some moments away from everyone else. She knew I needed this. Down on her knees, hand wrapped around my cock, Nora didn't even question it. She pushed readily on to suck me off, mouth around me and eyes staring up with great, burning lust. It was the only reassurance I had that things were getting to be okay or even kind of normal. She was there, so loving, so firm. Downright apologetic in how she pushed on and fellated me with all the devotion and affection she could muster. It was reassuring and warming, reminding me that she really did care and really did love me. If anything, she was even more intense than normal. The nagging reminder in the back of my head told me that she was sucking Chief's cock so much that she was probably sharpening up her blowjob skills to a frankly terrifying degree, but it was something I didn't really want to think about, and I did my best to avoid confronting those ideas as I remained in place, struggling to hold myself together. Mentioning chief right now felt like a good way to ruin the moment and shit on any sense of intimacy we were trying to have. This had to be about us, between us, and it was a threat to what we had to try and ruin that. So, I shut up, held firm, and let the rare treat of my wife being intimate with me stand on its own as something of vital importance. There's just one problem. I'm touch starved. I've gone a month without knowing her touch, and so as I feel something other than my own hand, it's working me over more than normal. I groan, shake my head, grunt. "You're great, Nora," I tell her, trying to heap on praise and act like somehow everything I'm doing is just a reasonable expression of things. It's a mess, and I feel myself sinking deeper into the worry and panic as I let it all go. With a gasp, a heave, and a thrust forward, I cum in my wife's mouth, and it feels so insane to think that this has become a grand commotion, but my life is off the rails. Nora looks with surprise at me. I dread what's coming as her eyes soften a little, as she draws back with a big smile and my cum drips down her chin. "You poor thing," she purrs. Teasing me. "You're so pent up. The last time you came that fast was after you came out of the hospital with that awful case of mummy flu you caught in Egypt." Her kisses against my twitching cock make me groan and ache with shame. "Sorry," I said. "It's fine. I'm just happy I got to spend any time with you at all." She rises up on her knees a bit, putting her arms around my chest and pulling me in tight. It's an affection I desperately need. "I miss you. You're the love of my life, and always will be." "I know, I miss you to." I ran my fingers through her hair. It didn't feel as soft and silky as it used to. I guess I should have expected that. "We just need to do this." "We'll get through. And we'll be stronger for it." I hoped she believed that, because I'm trying all I can to believe it too. Excerpt from the journal of Nora Shaw, October 18th, 2017 What I'm used to considering a mild summer day is still cooler than what October has brought to the Amazon. I expected this, but I've found that the light clothes I packed aren't as comfortable for me as the clothes the women of the village wear have become. Nobody stares at me when I go topless. Even Chief does not make any more inappropriate an overture toward me than he already does, though the lack of coverings on my breasts has let his hands get at me more directly, touching me bare instead of shoving a hand into my clothes. It feels more comfortable this way. There is no good way to clean my underwear as much as I'd like to, but the loincloth feels separate enough for me to not mind so much. But today, out in the open, it allowed too-easy access to me. I was eating when Chief came up behind me, grabbing my loincloth and dragging it aside. I knew what was coming immediately. He'd done it so much since I started wearing the loincloth in his hut that I knew from the telltale tug what was about to happen. And yet I wasn't ready for any of this, as eh grabbed y hips, as he tugged me very abruptly down onto his cock and began to pound into me, pulling me out from under myself, down onto all fours. The moans spilled from my lips. I didn't mean for them to, but what was I supposed to do about it? Chief just fucked me with absolutely reckless, feral vigor and a treatment so mad and so frantic I didn't have time to steady myself. But as it rang out in the air, it drew some eyes. Not a lot of eyes. *** happening out in the open isn't super rare in the tribe. Not common enough for some people not to stare, especially at the pretty, smooth human lady getting fucked by the chieftain of all tings. But a lot of the people go about their business like it's not happening, eating and talking among themselves. But Michael saw it. He tried not to. Looked down at his food, looked over to the person he was explaining something to, and did his best to avoid the sight. But as he ignored me, the thrusts only got rougher, got more intense and greedier under the haze of this treatment, under something so mad and frantic that I have no way to deal with any of it when I'm in the thick of it. It was too much, excessive swells of desire beating down faster upon me, making my head spin as I struggled to contain the indecent noises begging to come out of me. I didn't think Chief could escalate much further than all of this, but he did, and it was driving me mad to take on these feelings, to let the pressure swell to intensely. It's madness. Utter fucking lunacy. Nobody acted like this was weird. Nobody did anything to stop it. Even after all my months as his concubine, I can't help but be shaken to the core by all of these weird exceptions and these cultural hurdles that leave me so baffled. There's no sense to any of it, and the more that I try t understand what's going on, the less stable any of this seems, the less further my life gets from anything reasonable or that I can understand. He came inside me. One big, feral groan, a hard slam deep into my ***** as he pumped me full of cum. Of the men who watched, a few of them even cheered him on. he pulled out of me, the loincloth shifting back into place and my body shivering under the embarrassment, the sensation of cum dripping out of me and running down my thigh. I did my best to continue eating after he drew back, but the embarrassment was there and it was unavoidable. Just like the way that Michael glanced back over to me was unavoidable, and I could only shoot him another look. That same look I'd been giving him for months now. The same look we had more than eight months left of me shooting his way. *************************** Excerpt from the journal of Michael Shaw, December 25th, 2017 Christmas is not something the Minotaurs know a damn thing about. I wouldn't expect them to, the cultural exchanges here happened well before Christianity found its way to Peru in any form, let alone modern Christianity. But I explained to Chief why I would like to spend it with Nora. I was a fool for doing that; he didn't seem to think I was asking she come back to my hut again for even just one night alone with her, but that I wanted to stay in his hut and see her. "We’re family now. Like brothers. Of course, you can come." I should have been more direct, but that is definitely on me for being an idiot. But it did mean I got to eat dinner in Chief's hut. I didn't bother to explain most of the trappings of Christmas, but even with him there, it was quiet and private enough for me, as I sat there with Nora. Not saying much, as Chief kept injecting himself into conversations. All in good spirits, but what was I supposed to do? It seemed fine enough. I know the bar is that low, at this point, but even just sitting with Nora on Christmas is important to me, and I'll take what few concessions I can wring from this whole insane situation. I almost got comfortable at a certain point. Settled in. Got used to this and felt like nothing untoward was going to happen; Chief was going to behave himself and not do anything ridiculous. I was an idiot for thinking that, of course, and when the conversation dipped low enough, I had o way to deal with the suddenness of Chief grabbing Nora and tugging her head into his lap. "I think I could use a little bit more," he groaned, fingers tangled into her hair as he shifted his loincloth over, and before I could do a damn thing about it, he was pulling her face in toward his cock, and though I tried to avert my gaze, out the corner of my eye, I watched Nora's mouth open to take his cock. The thick, hardening cock that she'd been spending so much time enjoying. The massive dick that explained why she'd become so voracious in the little peeks of head I could get from here when nobody was looking. She just took down niches of it at a time with ease and carefulness, a push that left me full of confusion and panic. This was the moment where I got to see how normal this had become. Chief had my wife perfectly trained now, and she immediately got right to work at sucking on the hefty cock she was pulled down into, head bobbing along with obedient motions and a careful push into everything asked of her. No hesitation, no shame. Just a steady back and forth, a careful, approving push into depravity. She sucked firm and loud on the cock, the sloppy noise filling the air so proudly and so chaotically that I had no idea what to say about them or how to respond. I sat in still, stony silence and wished for some semblance of sense to shine through. But there was none. There was never going to be any. We just sat there in the emptiness of the moment as my wife sucked his cock and he smiled at me like nothing was wrong. "Your wife has become so good at handling my cock," he said. "She's doing great. Better than some Minotaur women." He sounded proud of her, indicated I should be proud of her too. The detachment from reason felt like it had gone on so long and should have ben put to a stop already, but it persevered, a continued throb of weirdness and frustration I kept wishing would cease so I could finally know what the fuck a normal life was like again. But I said nothing. It was cowardice. I had ever reason to just fucking speak up and put an end to this insanity already. We could have left, caught a flight back home, and just called it. But instead I said, "Nora's a very special woman." It felt like I'd said it a thousand times already. A thousand justifications. A thousand awkward concessions to the idea that this wasn't wrong or ridiculous. A thousand compliments for my wife's ability to sexually gratify other men. "It will be sad when you two go. You are a brother to me, and your wife is one of the best I have ever had. Yes, this is a good Christmas. Family!" he laughed, seemingly committed now to his understanding of Christmas and ready to cherish the closeness of us in his life. I was speechless again, but in that speechlessness came the sloppy cocksucking noises once more; there was no good way to win this. I knew that much, and now, Nora had him in her throat, choking louder on his cock, giving up so much to the insanity of the moment. He cums down her throat. Relieved groans and bestial noises I don't exactly like to hear, wincing as the frustration rises. He makes her swallow it all, but there's too much cum and it drips back out of her mouth again. I'm scandalized and ashamed, but my cock is infuriatingly hard to all of this, and I hang my head low as a result. "Merry Christmas," I say, and shuffle up to my feet to slink off. "Wait, Michael," Nora said, spit and spunk dripping from her mouth. She sees the look on my face though, and her eyes soften. "I love you," she says. "Love you to." I try not to sound bitter. She doesn't deserve that, and it's not directed at her at all. But what the hell can I keep doing in the face of all this? It's driving me mad to suffer like I am. *************************** Excerpt from the journal of Nora Shaw, March 20th, 2018 It's our anniversary today. I have promised Michael something for it, and I know I can't give him much. But lately, Chief has ben fucking me until he all but passes out, and I’ve told Michael to wait until the dead of night, then to sneak in and follow it up. It's all I can give him, but it feels wrong not to have *** with my husband on our anniversary when I am so many months removed from it. He hasn't been able to kiss me because of how constantly I've had Chief's cum in my mouth, and the occasional blowjobs come every few weeks, maybe. They're never long, never satisfying for me, and only barely for him. I can't be mad at him for it. An entire year of our late twenties sexual prime is being lost so that I can be the *** toy for a Minotaur. He's suffering. I wish I could say I was. I've become so overjoyed by ex with Chief now. It's not making me lose sight of my love for Michael, but I can't deny that there is so much pleasure to be found in Chief’s huge cock pounding into me. Maybe enjoying it is a coping mechanism, but in the end, I just feel like I need to do something to try and salvage the unfortunate pressures taking me so hard. [...] When he came into the hut, Chief had finally passed out. He'd fucked me enough that his cum was leaking out of me. A lot of it. Michael looked down in shame, sighing and shaking his head. "I tried," I whispered. I couldn’t keep him out of me, and I didn't want him to think anything was going on. "It's okay. I'm just happy it's you." "I used the last of the mouthwash," I told him, pointing to a wet blue pile on the ground where I had spit it out. "Kiss me. Please. Oh my god, please." We had to be quiet, but the news urged Michael forward, and he was happy to meet my lips, to start kissing me with the desperation and pent-up worry of a man who had gone from the end of June through most of March without kissing his wife, while seeing her every day, just out of reach. I knew saving it for this was a good idea. His lips felt so familiar and so welcome, and my arms wrapped around him as he started to peel at his clothes. We were really doing this. After so long barely apart, finally, we could make love. He pushed into me eagerly. Readily. His cock felt so welcome inside me again, even if I was looser than he was used to, even if I was filled with another man's cum. Michel was ready to take what he could get, I was sure, and began to thrust into me, ready and only as careful or restrained as he likely felt he had to be to keep from Chief waking up. There was so much that was so absolutely, outrageously over the line. But he gave me what I needed and he welcomed the pleasure, welcomed the chance for something powerful and wild to begin creeping across me. It may not have been feral, frantic ***. May not have been what I was used to. But it was with my husband. It was intimate and soft, probably the softest *** we'd had in years. It had to be. But that was all fine. Everything was fine. For this one gentle moment, I firmly believed Michael's every insistence it was okay. He kissed me like he loved me, he held onto me like you don't hold onto someone you hate. Through all these months, he waited patiently for even just this one fleeting brush together. Confirmed he loved me and didn't hate me. It was something I sorely needed. A reminder and a soothing that helped me feel like we were going to survive this. "I know there's a lot else going on," I told him. "Btu I want you to cum inside." It was a concession. I was so flooded up with cum. An Amazonian tribe of Minotaurs didn't understand condoms. If Chief had filled me up so many times it felt only fair that I let my husband, right? And he did. Sooner than I would have liked, sooner than I could really appreciate, but I found myself driven over the edge anyway, set alight by the emotional bond between us. He filled me up, and Chief remained sleeping quiet. I knew we were going to get away with this. He didn't know. He wouldn't know. It wasn't like what Michael filled me with could stand out amount the copious amounts of semen that Chief filled me with daily, right? *************************** Except from the journal of Michael Shaw, May 11th, 2018 Nora is pregnant. I'm absolutely torn up by this, completely fucking lit up and terrified by the idea. I have no idea what to make of what I've seen. We won't know if it's mine until we can get back home, of course. But I don't have very high hopes of anything. Chief has fucked Nora daily, and even the day I had *** with her was only after such an intense marathon on the part of Chief that I have no reason to believe my sperm stood a chance. I've all but retreated back into the hut now. I'm not taking it well. It's really hard to take any of this well. It's not like I have much to do, anyway. The Minotaurs also don't need me for much; only a few weeks before we're set to leave, I have fixed up every hole, tended to every minor problem, taught them how to perform finer tasks. Some of the younger Minotaurs are suited to that work, and they have already begun to train other young Minotaurs in turn on how to perform thee tasks, giving children safer tasks to perform rather than going out hunting. It's going to improve the quality of life for the tribe greatly, and I have good reason to feel good about myself for that. I have gleamed a lot from the tribe and in return I'm thankful to have helped them in some ways too. But now, we're ready to leave, and my wife is carrying Chief's child. I don't have any way to know it, but I'm certainly in crisis over the idea. *************************** Except from the journal of Michael Shaw, June 1st, 2018 As promised, our ride home comes, and I don't want to hurt the tribe that have taken us in so kindly, but my goodbyes are short and I don't have much love left for this trip. I want out. It took an hour, still, but I managed to make things smooth enough. Chief asked seemingly as a joke if I wasn't sure I wanted to stay and if he could keep Nora. I laughed. I laughed a lot. Put-upon, fake, dry laughter as I put my arm around y wife's shoulders and urged her toward the raft. We didn't stay. We refused. Nora was still in a loincloth, to the absolute confusion of the friend who had come to pick us up and make sure we were okay to travel after a year living so primitively. On the raft, I wrapped my arms around Nora. Pulled her close. Held onto her as tightly as I fucking could without a care, gripping the woman I loved and doing everything I could to cherish her. "I love you," I kept saying over and over, planting kisses onto her hair. It didn't smell all that great. Of sweat and bull, mostly. But I didn't care. It was her. We'd made it out alive and now all I wanted to do was hold tightly onto the woman I loved. *************************** Inside the delivery room, the telltale screams of a woman pushing her body to its limits rang out. Nora was determined to get this child out, body clenched up firm, worried greatly about what was going to come out. She’d had months to look into the possibility of humans and Minotaurs mating together. There were confirmed hybrid babies out there, which left her just as doubtful as her husband that it was his, even if she didn’t say it aloud. Now, she lay in the delivery room atop the bed, legs up, doctors swarming them all, hollering as the painkiller didn't make this as smooth as she would have liked. The complication was clear; magical medicine could have numbed the pain, but if the child wasn't entirely human, there were risks to her health, so she went medicinal rather than magical, and it was not going well. Michael paced back and forth. He demanded that he be in the room to see the delivery, his heart racing now. Months of lingering shame and grueling uncertainty held onto him as he watched and waited, terrified by the lingering uncertainty of what he was waiting for and how this would all end. He didn't dare look between her legs, the anticipation killing him, the terror rising up in his thoughts and leaving him a foggy, nervous wreck. How did he put into words what he felt in a situation like this? Nora made the final push. She yelled, she heaved, and the baby came out, doctors seizing it, nurses cutting the umbilical cord, and Michael froze, staring at the child with wide eyes. A soft, smooth, hairless, screaming baby boy covered in wet things that were absolutely disgusting, but it didn't matter. Falling to the floor, tears of joy ran from his face. Against all odds, the one single time they had made love won out against every time Chief had *** with her daily. "My son," he said through the sobbing, and it took him longer to be emotionally ready to hold the child than it took Nora. *************************** "We're never going to get this manuscript written," Nora moaned, shoved over the desk, gasping in delight t the wild pace that Micha showed her, hand gripping her hair as he pulled it back or leverage, hammering into her. She was certainly on top of her research, but only in that she lay atop the desk, shoved down onto it while her husband fucked her from behind, his greedy pace and frantic and wild push into desires getting only stronger as he fed into them. "It's fine. We got our papers finished and sent for review." "We were two weeks late to sending those in," Nora moaned, but fingers pushed into her mouth and silenced her. It took some time for Michael and Nora to be intimate again sexually. Romantically and even in other physical ways? They were fine. But the idea of his wife being pregnant with a Minotaur baby made him take a while to come around, up until the baby came out human. They named the kid Torin, the Irish Gaelic word for 'chief, as a sardonic joke. But once they settled in, Nora noticed Michael getting more aggressive with her. Not just warming back up to ***, but getting too warm, getting rough. He started to live up to what she was used to, and she didn't shy away from it, as the two began a mad downward spiral. As much as Nora was happy to pull back from the sexual chaos of their life in the tribe, the idea of revitalizing her healthy and loving marriage by energizing their *** life and letting the raw, greedy heat of the moment carry them away was a powerful one, and she happily let the chaos rise, let the insanity build as they indulged in one another. This was joy. The bliss they needed, the warmth they deserved. Michael never knew his wife wanted it rougher. Nora didn't even know, until she'd been so deep in Chief's clutches, but now that it was all out on the table, the time to indulge was upon them. Now they did, and Michael's only regret about his trip was not realizing sooner how much Chief had done for his life in the end. He would have been much more ready to engage in friendly delight with his 'brother' if he had known the favours he had done for him.