The Maze Ch. 03: Old Man

The old man was gaining on me - which was impressive. I had set myself a hard pace, but each time I glanced back he was closer. Close enough now that I could see him clearly, a man old enough to be my grandfather.

There was nowhere for me to hide, at least not without being so obvious about it he would suspect some mischief on my part. On the other hand, I doubted he would cause much trouble for me if he saw my green feet beneath the hem of my patched and faded yellow skirt. There was no one else around as far as the eye could see.

The path I was following was a muddy track that wound between heather-clad hills, climbing steadily. I hadn't seen anyone else all day, only that one distant figure that now approached. He was an archer, I noted, a bow in a sheath at his back, and a quiver with a single arrow.

"Hello!" he called cheerfully, slowing to match my pace. He showed no sign of exertion, and seemed indeed as if he were out for a gentle stroll and not a long, weary hike against a bitter wind. "Hello," he repeated, smiling in a friendly manner. "Do you mind if we walk together? I would be grateful for the company."

I hadn't spoken with anyone in days, not since parting from Rosa, and he seemed nice. "I'd like that," I said.

"Where are you headed?" he asked.

"The city."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "There are no cities on this road."

"Which road should I take, then?"

The old man laughed. "This road is as good as any, and as bad. You're a stranger to these parts."

It was phrased as a statement but seemed to demand an answer. I chose to give it. "I'm from the Farm."

He whistled his surprise. "A stranger indeed. Is it true there are no monsters there?"

"The Maze keeps them out."

"The Maze..." He shook his head. "The Maze was built to keep men out, not monsters."

I stared at him in astonishment. "What do you mean?"

Clearly he enjoyed having such an engaged audience, even if it was only the one person. "This is a tale told to me by my father, passed down through generations," he said. "Who can say now how much is true, and how much the embellishments of time? It is difficult for us now to imagine a time when men sailed to the stars and performed such magics that bent and breached the barriers between realms. What is easy for us to imagine, though, is that men have always sought to build barriers between themselves and the unknown."

Indeed. "I have seen many palisades and fortress walls since leaving the Maze."

"Yes," he agreed, "for the world is full of monsters. The satyrs steal our women, the pixies torment all, and there is a most mischievous vine that captures men and grows inside them. But even before the monsters came, there were men who feared the magic of the old world. They built themselves a haven, a place of innocence, and guarded it with a maze."

This was nothing like the stories told in the Farm. "But if the Maze was built before the monsters came, why do our stories say it was built to keep them out?"

"Perhaps because men are monsters," he said with a chuckle, "or perhaps because those who built the Maze used a terrible magic to build it. A magic that protected the Farm by unleashing chaos on the rest of the world."

He stopped suddenly and studied me with a critical eye. "I'd like to give you a gift," he said. "Three gifts, perhaps. I am an old man whose time has come, and this is the last journey I will ever make. My wife died long ago, and my only child is a liar and a thief. He deserves nothing of mine."

I didn't know what to say. What do you say when a strange old man wants to shower you with gifts?

He took a gold chain with a gold medallion from his pocket. "This belonged to my wife, and I would dearly love to see you wear it."

It was a precious gift indeed. In the Farm, gold was a rare and lustrous metal used only for wedding bands. Heavy too, for its size and delicate nature. A peculiar symbol was etched into the medallion, and I traced it curiously with my thumb. I had never worn jewellery before, and I was eager to see how it looked about my neck.

The old man helped, fastening it for me, and the medallion felt both cool and warm against my skin. "My wife was a priestess," he said, "her medallion blessed by the goddess. She knew how to give a man pleasure, and her skill with her mouth made her famous indeed. I would dearly love to feel that again."

Suddenly I wanted it too. I, who had no desire for either men or cocks, wanted nothing more than to kneel before this kind old man and take his cock in my mouth. I didn't question the desire. There on the path, hills and heather in all directions, I knelt and waited patiently for him to drop his trousers and reveal his engorged length.

I had never had a cock in my mouth before, though I remembered too well the taste of the satyrs. Somehow I knew what to do, and the anticipation was delicious. I looked up into his eager eyes as I licked his shaft and sucked lovingly on the head. With tongue and lips I excited him, taking him gradually deeper into my mouth, teasing him in between, humming happily as I did.

The medallion vibrated gently against my chest, as if it too was excited by my mouth. "I'm sorry for tricking you like this," he said. "Only a stranger unfamiliar with the goddess would dare wear such a medallion. How could I resist."

I knew he was telling me something important, but I was too focused on giving him pleasure to think about it. To feel his hard flesh urgent with desire between my lips was wonderful. He held my hair and thrust deeper, until I was forced to take him into my throat - and again, somehow, I understood how to do it. He fucked my mouth slowly as if it were my pussy, and my real pussy tingled as if in sympathy.

Without touching myself at all, the tension was building. The old man's cock was making me dizzy from lack of air, and I was close to an inexplicable climax. I managed to push him away for a moment, enough to catch my breath, and then he plunged in between my lips again, hard and demanding, his grip on my hair tight and unyielding.

The medallion throbbed against my chest, and beneath my long, thick, woollen skirt my clitoris echoed that throbbing need. I massaged my breasts through my leather tunic and squeezed my swollen nipples.

Until finally his cock stiffened in my mouth, in my throat, and his cum poured into me, and I wanted to scream because I too convulsed in pleasure as if we were one, our climax shared.

He released me at last and I gasped for air, the taste of him in my mouth, a growing confusion in my thoughts over why I had agreed to this perversity and indeed why I had enjoyed it so much. His words were forgotten. The medallion was just a medallion. A simple gift.

"Come," he said, fixing his trousers and grinning happily. "We've a long way to go yet."

Still shaking in the aftermath of that extraordinary pleasure, I struggled to my feet and hurried after him.

*

As dark fell, we came across a stone hut by the road, a waystation for travellers such as us. "I would normally have reached home by now," the old man said, "but your company is well worth the delay."

Together we started a fire and warmed ourselves, sharing some hot, vegetable broth and mugs of ale. I was unused to alcohol, and the drink had my head spinning for a good while. Outside, the air was crisp and the stars bright and spinning too.

"The snow will be falling soon," he said. "The mountains will soon be impassable."

"We had snow at the Farm once," I replied dreamily. "It covered the fields for a whole day, and we made mountains out of it for play." I laughed. "Of course, we had never seen real mountains, and knew of them only from stories."

Indeed, the closer I drew to the mountains, the more majestic they were. They were like a wall across the world more formidable even than the Maze had been. And I was determined to cross them.

My head cleared slowly, and the old man and I sat together by the fire in a comfortable silence. I was still confused about what had happened between us earlier, but the pleasure had been mutual, if unexpected.

"How good is your aim?" he asked, pointing at my sling.

"Good enough to catch dinner," I said, and added with a laugh, "so long as dinner stays close and doesn't run." I had made a habit of collecting stones of just the right shape and weight, and the pockets of my leather tunic were heavy as a result.

The tunic and sling, along with my knife and backpack, I had stolen from a camp of armed men while the watchman slept on duty. I had stolen a shirt for Rosa too, though it had fit her poorly, and had been tempted to steal a proper weapon. But that had not been possible, not without risking discovery.

The old man handed me his sheathed bow and his quiver with its solitary arrow. "My second gift for you," he said. "This bow is as old as the Maze, and will likely still be young when you are old. It is light in weight and true in aim, although it does require some strength to draw it. My arms are no longer what they were."

It was indeed an instrument of beauty, and I could feel its magic tingling against my fingertips as the old man taught me how to knock and aim the arrow, how to place my feet and lift my arm.

His hands caressed my skin, and his breath was hot against my neck, and the medallion vibrated against my chest. As easily as that, I was aroused again. "Shame there's only one arrow," I murmured.

"Only one is needed," he whispered back. "I would love to see you undressed."

I nodded, eager as well for him to see me thus. Sheltered from the brittle night in that hut by the base of the mountains, we were all alone and the fire was warm. We undressed together, man and woman, old and young, human and not quite. His gaze lingered with curiosity on my green, monstrous legs, but he seemed untroubled by it. He lifted his hands to my breasts, cupping them, his thumbs caressing my sensitive nipples, and as I sighed with excitement he said, "She who wears the medallion belongs to the goddess. We say priestess, but the truth is deeper than that. She is an aspect of the goddess, and like all goddesses she rewards those who give her gifts of value."

I wasn't interested in his words. It was his warm, fragile hands on my breasts that interested me, and the hard cock pressing against my belly, vigorous despite its age. He lay down on the wooden floor and I straddled him there, guiding him into me with a sigh of pleasure.

"Do you in the Farm still worship the gods?" he asked.

I had been used against my will so many times, it was strange to be the one in control. Strange too to be enjoying it so. I settled into a gentle but steady rhythm, fearful of breaking him beneath me as I thrust against him. Though he was nothing compared to the satyrs, he filled me well, and the friction sent shivers of excitement through my clitoris. His hands continued their manipulation of my breasts, adding to the array of sensations, and the medallion almost sang with echoes of pleasure.

"Of course," I said. "We hold feasts in their honour and thank them daily for their blessings. For keeping us safe from the monsters and the evils of the outside world. For ensuring that our crops grow well and that our children are born healthy. For the gift of love that binds us all."

The old man's hands moved to my hips, urging me to take him deeper, and faster. "But do you remember where they came from? That when men went to the stars, they brought the gods back with them? That there was a time when there were no gods, so we went out to find them?"

His words were too confusing. I wanted him to focus on pleasure, not talk to me of irreverent fantasies. I picked up the pace, slamming my hips down harder than ever, my breasts bouncing wildly above his face. And there was pleasure. Pleasure for us both. The tension was building swiftly in me and I could see the strain in his expression. "Do it," I begged him. "I need it."

He grabbed my breasts, one at a time, sucking fiercely on my nipples. I wanted to scream, I was so close. And suddenly I was there, tumbling over the precipice into ecstasy as his cock pulsed inside me, his cum tickling me inside. "Yes!" I screamed, exulting in the victory of the moment, my body convulsing in a delicious release of tension. "Yes," I cried, loving each sweet, blissful contraction, wishing there would be no end.

But wondering again why I had submitted so easily to his seduction... Was it out of pity for his age, perhaps? Or gratitude for the gift of a bow? Or was I developing needs I'd never had before? I didn't find him attractive, but I couldn't deny the shared pleasure of the act itself, even if afterwards I couldn't help feeling dirty and used.

Deeply confused, I disengaged from the old man, his cum leaking from my pussy and running down my thighs. "Thank you, Priestess," he said as he dressed again, and eventually I found the strength to clean myself and do likewise. It was a strange thing for him to call me, but I assumed he was thinking of his wife, and perhaps that was why I had been so willing to do what I had never in my life wanted to do to a man.

"You're welcome," I said, and didn't object as we lay together with his arm protectively about me.

*

In the morning we rose early and were quickly on our way, and again I was struck by how effortlessly he kept pace with me. Old man or not, he seemed fit as a fiddle. I liked how cheerful he was, and I liked how indifferent he was to my mutation. I shied away from thoughts of what we'd done the previous day, and was quite determined there would be no repeat.

The mountains loomed ahead, closer and higher than ever, even as the path we followed wound higher too. In the distance I saw a hare, too far away for me to hit it with any certainty using my sling. The old man guided me again in how to stand and aim with the bow, my muscles straining to hold the string taut - and then the arrow flew... and missed. The hare raced away for dear life, and with a heavy sigh I started off to retrieve my one and only arrow.

Chuckling, the old man held me back. "No need," he said, pointing to my quiver that again held a single arrow. "One arrow. Always. And that was good for a first try."

My second try, a little later, was better. My third hit the target, and my fourth killed it. I loved my deadly new weapon.

Shortly before noon, we arrived at the small village where the old man lived, and he invited me in for a farewell lunch. We had fresh meat, after all, and there was a cask of ale to wash it down. Pleasantly drunk, we sat together for a while, exchanging tales of gods and heroes.

"Grateful as I am for your hospitality," I said, standing up at last, "I have wasted enough time."

"Ah, but wait," he said. "I have one last gift for you."

He handed me his boots, and I looked at them uncertainly. At first glance they seemed no different to any other old, leather boots, but I felt in them the tingle of magic and despite their battered appearance they were sturdy and well stitched. "Try them on," he said. "They are sure to fit, and they will make light of any journey."

I nodded slowly in understanding. These boots were what had given him such tireless strength and speed, and indeed they fit perfectly my misshapen feet. I stared at them in amazement. Between skirt and boots, my green, inhuman legs were concealed, and comfortably so. "Thank you," I said quietly, and nearly burst into tears.

"My wife loved to wear those boots," he said. "They were my first gift for her. I asked her to bend over and offer me her ass, and of course she did. Will you offer me yours, Priestess?"

Of course I did. There was no need even to undress. I turned round and lifted my skirt, and remembered how good that muddy finger had felt as it slithered into me, and how dirty I had felt to be used in my sleep by the gang of pixies. But this was different. I wanted it this time. Twice before, the old man and I had shared an exquisite pleasure, and this third time would surely be the best for us both. "My ass is yours," I said seductively, looking back at him.

The medallion pulsed against my chest and my pussy tingled with excitement, but my ass was hungry for cock and I watched impatiently as the old man undressed to reveal a hard cock ready to deliver. "One day," he said, "you will understand how cruelly I have used you. I dare say you will hate me."

I couldn't imagine anything of the sort. Mostly I just wanted him to get to work. "But I will be dead by then," he continued, "and you will be far away. I won't ask you to forgive me, but I hope you will forgive yourself."

"Shut up and fuck me," I growled, and he chuckled.

One finger, then two fingers, slick with cooking fat, squeezed into my tight rear entrance, working back and forth, preparing me. The dirtiness of it was as thrilling as the fingers themselves, but I wanted more - and then he gave me more. I moaned in ecstasy, my ass blissfully stretched by his wonderful cock as he forced it gently but firmly into me. The sensation of it was mind-blowing.

It was as if a long-repressed need was finally being met. I couldn't get enough of it. "Goddess, yes," I cried, wanting more, wanting so much more.

He gave me all, thrusting in until his hips were tight against my cheeks, and when he withdrew slowly I nearly whined with complaint. But he was going nowhere. It was merely preparation, the cruel tease before the exquisite thrust. He was not so old that he didn't have the strength to ram his cock hard into my ass, the stretching and the friction and that final impact all forcing a cry of pleasure from my lips. He was not so old that he lacked the stamina to use me well and thoroughly.

How long he pounded away I cannot begin to guess. I wanted him never to stop. I wanted him to make me scream and still not be done. I was leaning with one hand against the wall, the other grabbing at my breasts through leather, pinching my nipples till they hurt, and my pussy was so aroused I could feel the wetness on my thighs.

But it was my ass the old man wanted and I could feel how good it was for him, because his pleasure was my pleasure, his hunger was my hunger, and when he finished at last, his climax was my climax. I screamed in ecstasy as he drove in deep and stiffened, and then we convulsed together for an age, my ass contracting rhythmically about his cock as it jerked and spat cum deep inside me.

*

I kissed him affectionately on the cheek as I left. He was a kind man who had given me three amazing gifts and three astonishing climaxes, and I would miss him for sure. Still, I set off with a spring in my step, the path through the mountains no longer quite so daunting, and what an adventure that proved to be. Fantastic views of the forests and lakes behind me, and of the vast ocean ahead of me. Terrifying snowfall that blanketed the ground erasing all sign of the path and safety. I nearly froze to death and nearly fell to my death and nearly starved to death, but luck and sheer determination got me through at last.

From time to time along the way, I may have traced the curious symbol on the medallion and remembered the old man's talk of the goddess. Once or twice, on the edge of sleep, I may even have put all the pieces together. But whenever, at the point of revelation, I reached for the necklace, intending to tear it from my neck, I would forget why I was so angry and remember only the pleasures shared.

Like it or not, the goddess had claimed me, and my body was no longer entirely my own.