She passed a field with a mare in it. From the way the stallion
pranced she guessed that the mare was in heat. The thought of
the stallion being tormented by the mare caused her to smile.
Shades of her teasing many a man with her own sexuality. As she
drew closer she realized that it smelled as bad as the stallion,
ending the comparison right there.

Soon she came upon a scene of great beauty – gold strewn about
the mountain – works of art scattered carelessly – the dragon’s
horde. Out daring any to even touch it. Gnawed bones and shat-
tered armor showed what fate befell those attempting to claim
that horde.

Finally he released my throat, allowing me to breathe. My
respite was only momentary, as he forced me to my hands and knees
and mounted me. Time lost meaning as I became his
concubine, his tongue wrapping about my neck as a collar, invading my helpless mouth and throat, and reaching down to where his
hands brutally held my cock and balls by virtue of which to pull
me back and forth on his rod in a piston-like action. I was
helpless as the object of his demonic lust, lost in sensation,
able only to serve as I was subjugated by his true power.

Baphomet’s grin was terrible to behold.

He held out his hands, inviting the challenge. The power
rushed back through me, and I accepted, locking my fingers with
his, using all my strength in the age-old game. He towered above
me, pushing down, but still I held, and pushed back. His
strength doubled, and doubled again; still I held, and forced
back. I became a statue, exerting all my strength while his
doubled and pressed ever down against me. Then, his height
became in relation to mine, and his cock curved up from his crotch, engorged with blood, to my mouth. To break my
stance would be to be crushed. The head of his phallus pressed
hugely against my lips, rubbing and wettening them. With his
strength ever doubling, I could not help but open my mouth to
breath, allowing the cock entry. Shifts of his body and torso in
attempts to dislodge my stance rubbed the head against my helpless, panting, licking tongue, overwhelming me with the power of
his scent and taste.

I felt an exaltation. I had, through skill, taken another’s
power, strength, and life for my own. I was the conqueror. I
stepped into a larger circle, delirious with my new power, and
confronted another man, wearing no clothes as I did but his face
covered by a monkey’s mask. His fighting was clever and power-
ful, canny, but mine was tactical and graceful, control and
skill. I left him unconscious and made his power my own as well.