Mercy at the Coliseum - Sex Stories

Mercy at the Coliseum

... semen into the other’s anus. Chances are very high your ass will end up drooling his cum, but how well you resist and fight him before that moment might convince both him and the crowd that you should be spared a life of servitude.” My mind reeled at the knowledge that I would live through to the end of this day no matter the results, but I also knew that the gods had to have been smiling down upon me, for as rare as it was, I would fight with nothing more than my strength and agility. Nodding in acknowledgement to the guard, he helped me to stand again and then I was led down the pathway underneath the Coliseum, the dull roar of the masses above me rumbling in my ears. By the time I arrived at the end of the tunnel, the volume was incredible and my view of the action unhindered. There, a large and imposing armored bull was fighting against a much smaller framed jackal, both donning two scimitars as they danced around the ring, slashing at each other, the canine doing a great job at darting in to nick the bovine before dodging or blocking any return blows. “The dog’s name is Silus the Impaler, sentenced to fight here until he dies after being convicted of assassinating two high level politicians by gutting them in their sl**p. This is his ninth fight and the wagers show him as the favorite to win here this morning as well. The bull is a small level captain, Johannes Fulk, of the Fourth Fleet, one who was good friends with one of Silus’ victims.” Watching with rapt attention, ...

... I marveled at how the jackal danced so effortlessly around the bull, his blades finding every joint in the armor, cutting at each weakness. Crimson red bl**d flowed freely down the bovine’s legs, but he didn’t seem to be affected by it. As I watched and the minutes passed by, it became clear that canine was realizing he needed to be more aggressive. The crowd was beginning to boo, wanting to see an end rather than a dance off. I shuddered in anticipation as Silus feinted to the left, the blade in his right paw sailing towards the bull’s throat. Fulk leaned back just far enough to avoid the slice, but off balance, the jackal leaned back and unleashed a flying kick into the side of the bull’s muzzle. It couldn’t have been placed more effectively and the crowd’s collective grasp meant it had to have been awesome. The bull stumbled back a few steps, his legs wobbly as bl**d now flowed from what looked to be a broken jaw. In a second, the jackal was on him, taking full advantage of his moment to rain bladed fire and fury upon him. Unable to keep up with Silus’ adrenaline fueled rush, the bull missed a block and then screamed as the jackal’s blade separated his paw from his arm, the scimitar cutting through him easier than a knife went through bread. My stomach churned as I felt his pain and knew I was likely watching the end of the Captain’s life. Keeping with the rules, the jackal flung one of his swords out of his paw and then continued his assault. Faking another slice at the ...