The contestants

Before they stepped out into the back courtyard of the premises, Zenobia buttonholed the five whores with a word or two of preparation.

‘Girls, this is a gala day for us at the brothel. Work hard and you’ll end up with triple bonuses tonight.’

‘Quite a crowd, is there?’ asked Viveka.

‘Young lady,’ said Zenobia, ‘there are over five hundred people out there, and we’re taking more all the time. Even in an hour, talk of your little show from before has spread like wildfire! If this thing doesn’t come off, and in spectacular style, we’re looking at a disaster!’

‘Don’t worry,’ Zalah assured her. ‘Even if, for some reason, we aren’t on top of our game, our friend in the courtyard is not going to let us down.’

‘Well you’d best just be right about that.’

Standing at the head of the group of whores, Zalah braced herself. She could feel the murmurs and anticipation of a frisky crowd beyond the door, could hear their noise and restlessness. She felt as if she was about to commence and arena battle.

Ordinarily, she would feel a little nervous about being the centre of attention for a crowd this size, but at the moment all she could think about was the size of the cock that awaited her.

‘This is going to be easy, girls,’ she said to them brightly. ‘Lie back, and think of Tharros!’

With that, Zalah flung open the back door and stepped into the courtyard, each of the whores following her into the centre of the theatre of conflict.

The first thing that hit them was the noise; a massive cheer erupted to greet their entrance, hitting them almost as if physically when they came into view. It was a united cheer of lusty and heartfelt approval, with a particularly lascivious undertone.

The courtyard was an area paved with flagstones about forty feet square in diameter. The three surrounding sides were ringed with spectators stacked at least ten deep, and more were filling in from a gate at the back policed by two of Zenobia’s bouncers.

Above, the courtyard backed onto a row of sturdy townhouses, each four stories high. Each of the floors of the building had a row of several windows and the occasional veranda platforms. Where there were windows, the shutters were pulled wide open and the space was crowded with faces; where there were platforms to stand and look down on these too were crushed with people. On one side of the courtyard wall, people were perched on top like expectant birds.

Zalah saw nothing but a sea of hungry, lust-filled faces, all anticipating a show that was a little out of the ordinary. Zenobia hadn’t been lying about there being five hundred people. In fact, if anything, she had underestimated the figure.

Galashiels was chained to the wall by his arms, which were held horizontally out at each side of him. He was standing, fully naked apart from boots and remnants of his armour from earlier. Struggling against his bonds, Zalah could see that he didn’t really have a clear idea of what was going on around him. Looking closer into his eyes, Zalah detected his incandescent mating-lust. His pupils were dilating wildly. He may not even have noticed the crowd, but he certainly noticed when Zalah and the whores tottered their way into the courtyard. Rattling his chains with such uninhibited ferocity that Zalah feared for a moment that he might actually break them free from their bolts on the wall, the only thing he could do was thrust his groin at his targets. The parade of flesh was almost more than he could stand, and it wasn’t helped by Odila flashing the crowd by opening the silk jacket and letting her glistening tits get an airing, or by Yira turning her back to the heaving throng and sweeping the sides of her dress apart, exposing the cheeks of her perfect derriere.

The girls were determined to enjoy their moment of glory, which, Zalah reflected, could only be a good omen. On the other hand, if the show got too hot and the crowd decided to rush and summarily gang-fuck them, there probably wouldn’t be much left of them to do an encore with. Of one thing she was certain: few of these men had ever seen a woman with a body honed to absolute perfection the way that her’s was, and it showed in their reaction.

Expertly, knowing all eyes were on her, Zalah silenced the crowd, bidding them hush. Slowly, the crescendo of noise receded until one or two geniuses broke the burgeoning silence by shouting out brazen suggestions. In time, they were placated, and Zalah had what she needed to begin; the rapt attention of the crowd. The only sound and movement in the courtyard was Galashiels rattling his chains and convulsing periodically.

‘My friends,’ she began, ‘the breeding frenzy of the minotaur is a strange and wonderful thing. Strange, because these magnificent beasts can discharge unending gallons of sperm the like of which has never been seen. And wonderful, because tonight, I and my slutty colleagues intend to bathe in it.’

There were loud cheers of approval for Zalah’s confident declaration of intent. Zalah used the time to sashay over to the section of the wall to which Galashiels was chained. At this stage, the demi-minotaur’s massive cock was fully engorged. Zalah allowed herself the chance to gaze at each inch of the rigid cum-torpedo, staring at the bottom and raising her head.

It took her quite a while. There were a lot of inches. About twenty of them. Her eyes followed the complex-web of the criss-crossing truncation of veins that mapped the shaft from root to pillar. There must have been pints of blood in the thing. Underneath, a pair of balls hung from a leathery sac that were easily the size of grapefruits.

Turning to the crowd, Zalah cupped her left hand as far as she could around the shaft. She used her other hand to cup her cheek and stare out towards the crowd in exaggerated shock, as if to say ‘I couldn’t possibly take all of that!’

Little did they know...