The horse was a buckshin with a slightly whiter mane and tail.
As she had combed the mane out it had kicked her viciously,
almost as if it knew and understood her resentment, as if it knew
she enjoyed dominating it, and it chafed at the dominance. Faint
traces of that resentment faded as they rode off.

Rumors of a dragon, a foul platinum colored thing, swept the
land. It was said that this dragon was once kind and good but
now it had been conquered and corrupted by the evil goddess
Tiamat. Now she rode forth to find it. And slay it.

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.

Kontar nibbled on my ear. I was acutely aware of his musky,
male cat odor, mixed with the smell of cigar on his pelt. “You
still misunderstand. You’ll be working for a joint Ailourian-
Earth consortium and your company has agreed as part of the trade
deal to take you back if you ever want to return to Earth.
You’ll have to come back frequently in any event to properly
oversee the expanding trade between our people. I regret that,
but I knew you’d never consent to be a kept boy.”

Kontar’s tongue flicking down my throat cut off my joyful assent.

The following week was hectic, as I had to arrange for a caretak-
er for my house and wind up my other affairs in that time. There
was an expensive formal dinner to celebrate the agreement the
night before we left. I caught a glimpse of the figure I cut in
my tight-fitting dinner jacket in one of the mirrors as I circu-
lated around the ballroom exchanging pleasantries with the
guests. All the leading big-monied families were there, the
governor, along with the mayors of Minneapolis and St. Paul. I
had to bite my tongue when talking to some of them who had pre-
sided over a six-year wave of arrests of gays in adult bookstores
and parks, and who had done nothing about police brutality
against gays.

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“Of course,” Kontar answered. “It should be obvious from last
night that I like you.”

“Why don’t you come to my place tonight?” I asked. “The accommo-
dations aren’t quite as luxurious as they are here but I have a
good job and you might find them adequate.”

“I can make it about six,” he replied. “I have an important
conference today but should be free by then.”

He rolled over and lit one of the unusual-appearing cigarettes I
had noticed earlier on the end table by his bed. He exhaled the
smoke smoothly as he offered me one. “It’s been tested and shown
to be compatible with your metabolism. At least it’s no more
harmful than the native narcotic you Earthlings smoke.”

I inhaled cautiously at first and tasted the unfamiliar spicy
tanginess as it rolled over my palate. “You seem very young to
be entrusted with the responsibility of a major trade
conference,” I remarked as I exhaled the smoke.

“Actually all the sons of the noble houses are expected to begin
taking on such responsibilities around my age,” he replied. “As
a scion of the royal house this conference would normally be
something I would have learned to handle several of your years
ago. Arranging a trade deal for your state’s meat and grain for
our mining colony on Antares IV isn’t that complicated. What I
am really here for is to set up a trade in some of your native
narcotics. Your tobacco, for instance,” he said pointing to the
pack of cigarettes lying next to my discarded clothing, “should
prove to be quite in demand among our people. It’s been shown to
be no more harmful to us than it is to you and our medical tech-
nology can forestall any damage it might do. Your marijuana and
some of your stronger drugs should turn out to be the basis of a
lucrative trade also. I’m afraid we’ll have to ban the catnip
you sometimes give your domestic cats among our people, however.
It’s been shown to set off a murderous killing frenzy in our
species and would do even more damage than it does if the user
weren’t so uncoordinated and disoriented by its effects.”