Taking the Chain - Sex Stories

Taking the Chain

... smile fell from his face. Durus shifted slightly, feeling the press of fresh bruises against his back. Velox had gotten a hit in yes, but the match was completely incomparable. How could anyone think for a moment Velox could have bested him?

"I was scared," Mordax said, stripping out of his skirts and kicking them aside. "I have been excited to fight you since I first entered the arena."

He pulled the leather ties free from his hips that held his manhood in place and showed just how excited he was. Durus couldn't help when his eyes fell on Mordax's crotch. Only half-hard, it was clear the bull's cock was just as proportional to the rest of his impressive body. Durus scoffed and began to knead at the muscles on his thighs.

It was impressive for sure, but it too paled in comparison to Durus' cock.

"Are you that eager to be put in the dirt?" Durus snorted, flicking the ring in his nose.

It was pure gold. The sign of his three-year reign as champion. Mordax, of course, only wore one of plain black steel, and until Durus retired he would make sure Mordax never wore the gold.

"I am undefeated," Mordax smiled. He ran a wet hand through his hair, slicking back his arrant locks and revealing large brown eyes. "And you are getting old, perhaps it is time you accept the passing of the tides and give up?"

Durus snorted, sitting up straight as his pride demanded he show this young upstart, then and there, what he was capable of. Old!? The arrogance of this whelp. He ...

... was only twenty-seven, and Mordax had to be at least twenty-one himself to even enter the arena.

"You arrogant fool," he seethed. "You go out there and taunt your appointments, you flirt with the crowds, and you paint your horns like some slut from the lower quarter. You have no respect for the traditions and yet you mock me?"

"Traditions," Mordax scoffed. "This is a game, a pale shadow of what it used to be. If we were playing by traditions, the defeated would take the chain and submit, like in the old days. Now it is all for show. Would you take it, if it were offered to you? When did you last hear someone take it?"

Not in Durus' lifetime.

In the old days, when the arena was a blood sport, determining life and death, the defeated had only two outcomes. They would either refuse the chain and accept their death, or they would take it, submitting to the victor before the crowds. These days, the offering of the chain was purely symbolic. The loser would refuse the chain, and instead of death, they would simply walk away, burdened by the weight of their loss.

Nevertheless, Durus stewed at Mordax's words.

"I do not even have to think about whether I would take it or not," he said, bursting up out of the steaming water. "I have never lost a fight, I have never known the shame of being offered the chain. It is beyond my abilities to even consider taking it."

He waded out of the water, his bronze skin flushed from more than the water. How dare Mordax even suggest ...