Taking the Chain - Sex Stories

Taking the Chain

... long curved blades in either hand. He roared as he stepped out, swinging his blades in an overly showy fashion, the whirl of the blades cutting through the wind perceptible to Durus even through the din of voices. Then Mordax turned to them, the crowds, the humans that came to watch them fight, and he riled them up, raising his arms and encouraging their cheers. They responded to his push, the chaos of so many voices so loud it was a near physical thing that pushed at Durus from all sides.

He sneered, whirled his blade once to test the weight and then braced his shield. He strode into the arena, stopping right before the coiled chain that signified the centre, happy to wait while Mordax continued to bathe in the attention of the crowds. Durus lowered his head so that he peered over the shield, hiding the smile on his face. It would be all the sweeter to knock Mordax down when he projected himself so much.

At last, Mordax seemed to be taking it seriously, as he diverted his attention away from the crowds and stepped to the centre ring. Slowly, the noise died as the two warriors stood opposite one another.

"Here we are at last," Mordax said, his chest puffed forward, his swords held low at each side. "I have dreamt of this day since I first saw you enter the ring."

"You flatter me," Durus said, with a sneer.

His eyes flicked to the chain at his hooves and he couldn't help but nudge the thick links.

"Don't forget our bet," he said.

"I would never," Mordax ...

... said with such conviction that Durus' found himself on the back foot. He'd said it with such seriousness he sounded as though he was pledging his life. And if they were truly playing to traditions, then he was. Would Durus be within his rights to strike Mordax down if he refused the chain?

He shuddered away from the thought. How could he? The arena was no longer a blood sport, and it would be a terrible waste of beautiful flesh to kill Mordax.

His eyes lingered over Mordax's body, beneath the leather, his chest rose and fell, straining against the armour. Mordax's skin shone as though freshly oiled, accentuating the definition of his muscles. Every part of him shone in precision, and Durus could not help but admire him. Durus' cock strained against his leather thong, longing to dominate such a strong body.

Durus shook his head and snorted. It would not do to be distracted by such things when the fight was about to begin.

The crowd was deathly silent, and the two rivals stared at one another waiting for the bell to chime and signify the beginning of their fight. Durus shifted his weight, testing his hooves against the sand. Across from him, Mordax whirled the sword in his right hand. The quiet was deafening, the slightest cough or snort from the crowd echoing across the space.

The bell rang.

Durus sprang forward, raising his shield and thrusting it forward, hoping to stun his opponent early on. But Mordax easily stepped aside, his blades whirling with a whistle ...