Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/ft, Consensual, NonConsensual, Magic, Slavery, Heterosexual, High Fantasy, Science Fiction, Post Apocalypse, Paranormal, MaleDom, First, Oral Sex, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Tit-Fucking, Big Breasts, Public Sex, Violent, .
Desc: Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1 - In a world turned upside down by magic, the law is what the strong would make it. Condemned to death for a crime he doesn't remember committing, a young man must fight to protect the lives of those he has come to love and maybe, just maybe, to find a future where he can be free.
The roar of the crowd was muted and distant as Zack stepped out onto the stadium’s false grass. There was never enough rain in Texa to grow the real thing, but Duke Garcia insisted on maintaining the field as it had been, even though the plastic leaves had been soaked in enough blood to leave large, rust-brown brown stains. The remaining green had recently been painted over with thick white lines, marking the field into sections five yards across.
“It’s because you are too good,” Duke Garcia had explained during their weekly dinner. “You are too good, you and the Bull! No one wants to bet against the Executioner, not if they expect to win. So now they bet on where you leave the corpse.”
Zack had only nodded and gone back to his food. The Duke was not a cruel man, he just enjoyed cruel tastes. He had been a mid-ranked cartel enforcer back before the Rupture, specializing in escorting large or unique shipments of drugs. He and his men had been stopped at Ox Run when the old world had ended. Their trucks had stopped working, but their guns hadn’t. The locals had been armed too, just not as well as the cartel bmen. Things were tense between the two groups for the first few days, but when a tribe of starving goblins came howling in off the plains, it had been quality that mattered most. After the dust had finally settled, Antonio Garcia had gone from being a cartel enforcer to Duke Garcia, First of His Name, Lord of Ox Run.
Ox Run had not been a particularly large town, at least not in terms of population, but it had been home to a large football stadium that was the town’s pride and joy. Having once operated against the law, Duke Garcia had suddenly found himself obligated to enforce it. Seeing the opportunity to indulge some his more questionable tastes, he had turned the stadium into the Arena. After all, there were plenty of reasons for the law to kill a man. Why not do it in a way that the public would enjoy?
Any man sentenced to die ended up being sent to the Arena, where he would spend his last moment’s fighting for the crowd’s pleasure. If he was good or lucky, he might push those final moments back by days, weeks, or even years. But in the end, there was no escaping justice. Everyone sent to the arena died in the arena.
And yet ... Duke Garcia was a man of cruel tastes, but he was not necessarily a cruel man. Those who fought well and survived could make a life for themselves, limited as it might be by their incarceration. The Arena’s primary trainer, Greg Homewell, had been sentenced to die for the murder of a man in a drunken barroom brawl over twenty years ago, but now he had a wife, two kids, and half a dozen personal slaves. He’d could never be anything other than a trainer, but at least he no longer had to worry about his blood watering the astroturf ever again.
He was, so far, the only man to make it to the fifteen year mark that had earned him a place off the field. Only two others had made it as far as ten years. One was the Bull, a herdless minotaur who had been caught and convicted of cattle rustling. The second was Zack himself. He’d been found unconscious on the side of the road, wearing bloody ribbons for for a shirt, and a dead man with a broken neck and a knife in his hands laying by Zack’s side. It had been the Duke and a hunting party that had found him. They’d hogtied, arraigned, convicted, and sentenced him on the way back to the hospital. He had woken up three days later to discover he was a dead man.
A dead man just like the youth who had been pushed out of the gate opposite of Zack’s. The young man couldn’t have been more than sixteen. He had the bulky frame of someone who had grown up doing hard farm work, and a brand new iron collar had been locked around his neck. There was a madness in the young man’s eyes, a mix of anger and hate tinged with fear. Sweaty hands clutched a fool’s blade, an enormous great sword with a wide, four foot long blade and whose hilt was an intricately carved piece of spikes and scales designed to look like a dragon’s claw. It was the sort of sword that belonged on one of the Bull’s fantasy novels, not on the battlefield. The idiot hadn’t even picked out a helmet, though he was at least wearing an ill-fitting breastplate held on by fraying leather straps.
Zack’s armor was a much more expensive set of segmented lorica, custom fit by one of the Duke’s own armorsmiths. It had been designed to offer him the most protection without limiting his movements, covering him from throat to thigh in overlapping steel plates riveted to boiled leather. The short sword in his right hand had a mere two foot long blade, and its unadorned hilt had been wrapped in leather thongs to make sure he kept a tight grip. The shield strapped to his left arm was a simple quarter inch thick piece of steel a yard in diameter, though the kevlar straps that bound it to his forearm had been lined with fleece for extra comfort. Rounding out his equipment was a bleached football helmet from which the grill had been removed in order to leave his face exposed to his opponent.
“Going to fucking kill you,” the boy spat. “Going to chop you up real fine. Fuck this shit. I ain’t going to die here. Real mistake giving me this pig sticker.”The kid waved the sword around in a broad circle. “Oh yeah, gonna chop you up, then I’m going to kill the guards, then I’m going to track down the little puta who got me into this shit. Little whore should have just spread them when I told her to. Little bitch just had to go and tell Daddy. Yeah, we’ll see how she likes it when I come back for round two!”
Zack just tuned the kid out as the younger man continued to rant and rave. He’d heard a dozen variations of the theme. Some swore they were innocent, some begged for mercy, and then there were the assholes like this punk. The ones who wanted to blame anyone but themselves. Zack had long since stopped caring about their excuses. Listening didn’t make the killing any easier. Didn’t make it any harder. He already knew how the fight was going to go. He was just waiting for-
A deep-throated horn drowned out the crowd. The kid jumped in his skin. Most first time fighters did. Zack knew it was coming, could have taken advantage of the kid’s surprise, but chose to let the opportunity go.
The kid whirled around and let out a blood curdling shriek as he charged. Zack shifted his footing, putting his weight on his back heel in anticipation of the coming strike. The sword went up high over the kid’s head, clutched in a two handed grip meant to take Zack out with one powerful blow.
Instead it bounced off Zack’s shield, which had come up just as the sword started to come down. Steel rang off steel. The boy had put all his strength into the cut, and now all that strength rebounded through the sword and jarred his arms back into their sockets. The same shock rattled Zack’s shield, but most of the force was absorbed by the fleece cushioning the shield’s straps.
Zack recovered first, pushing off his back foot as he lunged forward. He led with the shield, and bone crunched and blood flew as the boy’s jaw shattered under the blow. The boy’s sword dropped from nerveless fingers as he stumbled backwards. Zack’s sword plunged into the boy’s exposed throat, scraping against his spine as it slid out the back.
The boy’s eyes crossed as he tried to look down at the blade that had killed him. Zack twisted his wrist, widening the hole as the boy began to slump to his knees. All Zack had to do was make sure he held on as gravity pulled his blade free for him.
It had been less than a minute since the fight had started.
The roar of the crowd surged again as the horn sounded his victory. Zack didn’t bother to acknowledge their cheers, but simply turned on his heel and walked back into the darkness of the locker rooms.
The Bull was waiting for him just inside the shadows. The minotaur was easily a foot and a half taller than the human, with a dark crimson hide that seemed almost too tight for his extensive muscles. His only clothing was a plain loincloth that was several inches too short to protect the bovine’s modesty. The Bull chucked a rag at Zack, who pulled it from the air and began to wipe down his blade.
“Nice job, Executioner,” the Bull Grunted.
Zack shook his head. “It wasn’t even a fight.”
The Bull nodded. “And that’s why they call you the Executioner. Quick, clean, and done. If they had wanted him to suffer, then they would have sent me out there.”
Zack snorted his acknowledgement. The Bull enjoyed playing with his opponents, driving them around the field as he tried to see how many cuts it would take to kill them. The current record stood at forty-four, though the Bull was sure that one day he could make it forty-five.
“Are you going to be part of the cage match later this afternoon?” the Bull asked as they headed down a narrow hall. What once had been the offices for the visiting teams’ coaches had been converted into private ready rooms for the more popular fighters. The rest had to make do with the regular locker rooms.
Two guards nodded as the pair of fighters approached, but they made no move to disarm Zack. Strange as it might have seemed for what was essentially a prison, they were there for the fighters’ protection and not to keep them from trying to escape. The one on the left had grim eyes as he nodded to Zack. “Thank you.”
Zack froze as the comment caught him off guard. “For what?”
“The girl he attacked was my cousin.” The guard spat to the side, then turned to the Bull. “No offense. I wish he had fought you.”
“Some other time, perhaps,” the Bull answered with a grin. Zack just shook his head and pushed open the doors to this quarters.
The concrete walls had been painted forest green, and the metal desk and chairs that had once occupied the room had been replaced by a queen sized bed and a small table with chairs. Lounging on the bed was a bronze skinned beauty in a silky black wrap that clung to her hips while leaving everything else exposed. Her amber eyes lit up when she saw Zack standing in the door. She immediately rolled over so that there was enough room for him to join her on the bed. “I’m glad to see that you haven’t made me a widow yet.”
Zack bit his lower lip to keep from smiling as he lay down widthwise across the bed. “We’d have to be married in order for me to make you a widow, Gabrielle.”
“Mmm, true,” Gabrielle admitted. Her fingers stroked the thin iron collar that was bolted around the base of her throat. “But then how do the dead ever get married?”
“Usually in front of a priest,” the Bull laughed. He scooped Gabrielle up off the bed and twisted round so that she ended up on his lap as he sat down on the closest chair. “Why do you stay with this one, Gabrielle? You should come to my quarters! They’re just down the hall, you know!”
“And I know that Amy and Holly could probably use a break from you, you lustful beast!” She playfully flicked the Bull across the tip of his snout. “I’ve seen the way the two of them walk crooked once you get through with them! And the screaming! Night after night after night!” She began to moan and groan with great exaggeration. “Have you no shame?”
“Shame is for you humans,” the Bull said as he patted her on the knee. Then his thick fingers began to creep upwards along the inside of her thigh. “For champions such as myself, however...”
Gabrielle squealed as she hopped up off his lap and leapt on to the bed. She pulled Zack’s arm around her protectively. Her lashes batted flirtatiously as she grinned at Zack. “You’ll protect me from the big, bad, beast, won’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Zack teased. He cast an appraising look at the Bull. “He is rather big, he is rather bad, and he is very much the beast. Perhaps it would be for the best if I were to just turn you over to him!”
“Alas! I am undone!” Gabrielle swooned to the side, tucking her head under her arm as if she were trying to hide from the world. Both men laughed at her theatrics and Zack immediately set upon tickling her.
This, more than anything, was why he continued to fight. Not so that he could keep breathing, but for the peace it bought for him and his friends. Gabrielle had been a gift from the Duke, taken as a slave in one of his numerous raids on nearby towns. If anything were to happen to Zack, then she would just be re-gifted to another man, most likely the one who had killed him. There was no guarantee that the next man would be as kind to her as Zack had been. Actually, given the list of crimes that could get a man sentenced to the arena, it was pretty much a given that her next owner would be an abusive asshole. The Bull would survive, but friends weren’t easy to make when you might be expected to kill them the very next day. It had taken the two of them years to get to know one another, and even then it had only really happened due to the Duke’s unspoken promise that they would never fight each other.
The Bull let the two humans roll around on the bed for several minutes, right up until it looked like it was going to become an entirely different sort of struggle. He rumbled deep in his throat, reminding the pair that he was still in the room.
“Sorry,” Zack gasped as the pair sat up. His cheeks were a bright red and his hair was in a complete disarray. Gabrielle was in a similar state, her nipples pebbled with obvious arousal.
The Bull bared his teeth in what passed as a grin for his kind. “Please, I would have asked to join! But I wanted to talk to you about the match today. I have word from one of the Duke’s men that it will not be the normal sort of cage fight. They are opening it to any fighter who wishes to be included and I wanted to know if you planned on participating.”
Zack shrugged. “It sounds like it’s going to be rather crowded if they’re opening it to everyone.”
“Ah, but that’s the thing,” the Bull answered knowingly. “This time we won’t be fighting to get out of the cage, but to get inside of the cage instead.”
Zack’s eyes narrowed as he leaned in closer. “And just why would we be fighting to get into the cage?”
“Because therein lies our prize.” The Bull nodded to Gabrielle.
Gabrielle’s eyes widened. “You mean... ?”
The Bull laughed. “No, they’re not putting you up as the prize! I have no idea who the girl in question is. She is pretty enough, at least as far as you humans go. Personally, I wouldn’t mind adding her to my collection. Gabrielle is right, Amy and Holly have been looking a little bowlegged lately.”
Zack considered the unspoken question. He knew what the Bull was getting at. If the Bull won, then the girl would make out just fine. If it the Bull didn’t win, she’d end up in the same Hell that Zack was fighting to keep Gabrielle out of. If Zack fought as well then it would double her chances of ending up with someone decent.
At the same time, this was the worst sort of fight to get involved with. He and the Bull were hands down the best fighters in the arena. One on one, they could beat anyone on their very worst days. Put them in a group of twenty, thirty different fighters? Quantity did have a quality all of its own. It was almost impossible for one person to keep perfect situational awareness, and group fights were perfect for weaker fighters to make their names by ganging up on their betters. There was a very real chance that Zack would be killed. That wouldn’t happen if Zack didn’t fight. It also meant there was a very real chance that the Bull would be killed. Which could be prevented if Zack fought and was there to guard his back.
The final decision rested ultimately with Gabrielle. She held his gaze for a moment, then nodded.
“Yeah, I’m in.”
“Good!” The Bull clapped his hands together. “The fight is not scheduled until later this afternoon. We have five, six hours before they summon us. Seeing as how we have plenty of time to kill, I am going to return to my quarters and do exactly the same thing you are about to do!”
Zack snorted in amusement. As the door closed behind the Bull, he turned to Gabrielle and asked, “Are you sure about this?”
The slave girl reached up to cup his cheek. “You would never forgive yourself if anything happened to him and you could have prevented it.” Her hand slid down the front of his armor and rapped him lightly on the chest. “Now stand up, so that we can get this off of you.”
Zack was a smart man and did as he was told. He stood with his arms stretched out to the side. Gabrielle started with the shoulder plates, unbuckling the strap that ran across his chest and carefully lifting them over his head. From there she placed them reverently on the table. The slave girl hadn’t required any special training when it came to his armor. She had understood from the outset that that the armor protected the man who protected her, and so treated it with the respect that it deserved.
The chest piece was next. She stood in front of him, her fingers working from memory as she unknotted the lace binding the piece in back. That left her lips free for him, a situation that Zack took full advantage of. There was a deeper hunger as their mouths came together, something more than lust but not quite love. It was the hunger of two people who know that any day they have together might be the last and so were willing to make the most of it while they could. Gabrielle’s fingernails scrabbled at the last stubborn knot as their tongues twisted together. She gasped a sigh of relief when the cords finally parted, allowing her to yank the hard steel plates out of the way to expose the hard, muscular body underneath.
Zack let his arms drop as Gabrielle lay the chest armor on the table. It would have been so easy to seize her by the waist and tumble her to the bed, to take her hard and fast, but this was a ritual they had worked out very carefully over the years. His role was to stand there, as still as possible, while she did all the work. His breath came hard as he waited, blood roaring in his ears as his cock tightened with anticipation. It only got worse as she sashayed back across the room, a knowing smirk curling her lips as she undid the bolt of silk wrapped around her waist and let it drop to the floor. His eyebrows as rose as he noticed that his lover had trimmed the fine black hairs above her crotch into a downward pointing sword.
“I thought you’d appreciate the sentiment,” Gabrielle murmured huskily. She stepped back into his embrace, crushing her breasts against his oiled skin. This time Zack refused to be just a passive participant. Insistent hands caged Gabrielle’s head, forcing it back so that her slender throat was exposed to his questing mouth. The slave girl’s pulse raced under his tongue as his teeth sank into the soft flesh of her neck. He felt as much as heard her breath catch as he bit down hard enough that there was no chance of avoiding marks.
“Zack!” Gabrielle gasped as she fumbled with his belt buckle, too bothered by his attentions to work the eminently simple clasp.
“Mmm?” His lips had found the curve of her shoulder as his hands slid down her arms, flowing inwards in search of-
“Stop that!” Gabrielle laughed. She slapped his hands away from her chest. Carefully shaped nails dragged over Zack’s abdomen as she sank to her knees and his stomach clenched reflexively. His cock pushed against the front of his athletic shorts, straining to be free. Gabrielle cooed appreciatively, but resisted the urge to run her hand over the tempting bulge. Instead her fingers hooked into the elastic waistband of his shorts and pulled them out and down, releasing his erection into the open air.
Gabrielle did not immediately reach for his penis, however, but continued to lower Zack’s shorts down his muscular legs. This, too, was part of the ritual. She tapped her master on the ankle, first the left, then the right, a silent instruction to lift each foot out of the way. The shorts, alas, were not as well respected as the armor. Instead they were tossed, half out of muscle memory and half out of impatience, on to the pile of laundry across the room.
Gabrielle inhaled deeply, savoring the very maleness of his scent. It was rich and earthy, with just a hint of sweat from his earlier time outside. The mushroom-shaped head of his cock rose and fell in time with his breathing, bobbing invitingly only a few scant inches from her lips. His entire body was quaking from the strain of standing perfectly still, the lust seeming to roll off his body in waves, stoking the matching fire burning in her belly. Her thumb traced the thin line of scar tissue that marked where his foreskin had once been, causing Zack’s legs to buckle as he gasped with pleasure. She loved the feel of him in her hand, so hot and heavy, supple skin wrapped around rock hard muscle.
There was only one thing she loved more...
Gabrielle leaned forward, letting his girth slowly part her lips as her mouth closed over the head of his cock. The tip of her tongue instinctively sought out the hypersensitive cluster of secreted at the base of his crown, massaging it with a delicate circular touch. Gabrielle was immediately rewarded by his hips plunging forward, shoving his cock deeper towards her throat.
Gabrielle’s lips curled around his shaft. It was impossible to tell whether Zack’s exclamation was intended as an apology or encouragement, though the answer was likely somewhere in the middle. She pulled back just a bit, one hand wrapping around his shaft while the other reached up to cup his dangling sack. Both hands squeezed gently, a subtle reminder that Zack needed to maintain his self control.
It was a near impossible demand. Zacks fingernails bit painfully into the palm of his hands as he watched her head bob up and down, the pain being the only thing allowing him to maintain his grip on his last remaining shred of sanity. Gabrielle had spent their years together learning every last secret his body held. One moment her tongue would be exploring his slit, driving him to the brink, only for her throat to constrict around him at the very last moment, bottling it all back inside. Once she was sure he had backed off the edge, she would start again, only this time running her tongue over him with long, firm licks, starting the whole process over again. Lightning bolts of pleasure tap danced up and down his spine as the world around dissolved into a white haze.
“Gaby, I ca- Ahca-” Zack’s voice cracked into a ragged inhalation as a particularly powerful surge of euphoria ripped through him. He would have burst then and there if it weren’t for the timely intervention of her hand. Stars of shock burst behind his eyes as her hand clamped tight around the base of his cock and squeezed.
“Not yet, my Lord.” Gabrielle’s eyes gleamed as she ran a finger up the ridge of his cock. She rose up on her knees as she released him, letting his cock fall into the natural valley formed by her ample tits. Slender fingers pushed her breasts together, trapping his member in warm, pillowy softness. Zack let out a frustrated moan as she began to slide her tits up and down his length.
This was not part of the ritual.
“Does this not please you, my Lord?” Gabrielle teased. Her cheeks were flushed as she stared into Zack’s eyes, her lips wet and shiny from her earlier oral efforts. “I want to feel you on my skin, for you to mark me as only a man can mark a woman. When you step out onto that battlefield, you will do so knowing that your seed is soaked into my flesh, a temporary brand to remind me of the permanent claim you have made on my soul.”
It was the emotion in her words as much as the fierceness in her eyes that pushed him over the edge. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders as his self control snapped like a brittle twig. Cum fountained upward as his hips slammed forward, nearly ramming his cock into her chin. Gobs of viscous white goo drenched her chest, leaving misshapen pearls to decorate her bronze skin.
Zack stumbled backwards as all the tension in his body evaporated. Ten minutes with Gabrielle had taken more concentration and left him more winded than his earlier fight. His heart was hammering against his ribs as the world slowly came back into focus.When he looked down, Gabrielle was still kneeling on the floor. She winked as she scooped up the largest puddle of his cum and dangled it over her open mouth, letting gravity pull it down to her waiting tongue.
“I was wondering why you didn’t want to swallow.” Zack smiled as he shook his head. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“I do enjoy a good load,” Gabrielle admitted with a sly grin. She popped back to her feet and promptly fell backwards on to the bed. The slave girl scooted backwards so the concrete wall was propping her up, then spread her legs to expose the glistening pink slit at their center. “Want to give me another?”
“I think I can manage another,” Zack agreed. The mattress dipped as he crawled onto the bed. He didn’t immediately line his cock up with her cunt, however. The spirit was willing, but the flesh needed a little bit more time to recover. That was all right, though. Gabrielle let out a surprised squeal as his shoulders bulled into her thighs, forcing her legs up over his head. The squeal turned to a moan as his mouth found her pussy. His breath was warm and ticklish on her shaved skin, and Gabrielle couldn’t help but try to squirm away as his tongue probed her inner labia.
His mouth watered at the first taste of her. Slightly sour, slightly sweet, like a strong mead. It was a damned good thing that her pussy was so wet, as he couldn’t get enough of her liquid offering. In some cultures it was considered polite to slurp your food if you enjoyed it. If that was the case, then Zack was paying Gabrielle the highest compliment possible.
“Zack...” Gabrielle moaned as heat flashed through her body. The unyielding concrete of the wall left her nowhere to escape to as Zack’s tongue pushed deeper into her body. The rough cotton of the sheets bunched in her hands as his lips sealed around her clit. Instead of sucking, he began to rub his lips together with the delicate little nub trapped in the center. The heat built in intensity, until her entire body was being consumed by an exhilarating inferno. “Zack!”
Zack made sure that he had his tongue curled tightly around her clit before humming, “Mmm?”
Gabrielle hissed through her teeth as her pleasure reached an explosive boil. The scream that followed echoed through the small room. It was loud enough that the guards outside could hear it despite the thick concrete walls. Every muscle in her body began to spasm wildly when her brain became overwhelmed by the heavenly sensations riding out from her cunt. Unseeing eyes stared at the ceiling while her mouth formed a silent “O”. Zack nearly tumbled backwards off the bed as her spine arched, thrusting her hips upwards into his face. Only years of combat reflexes kept him from ending up with a very awkward bruise.
“Holy Hells,” Gabrielle half-panted, half-laughed. The sight of her peaked nippled rising and falling with each breath was mesmerizing. She looked down between her legs at the glistening mouth and chin and smiled. “I take it the meal was to your satisfaction?”
“I think it worked as an appetizer,” Zack agreed. Gabrielle let out a surprised yelp as he grabbed her by the ankles and yanked her away from the wall. His newly revived cock lined up neatly with the entrance to her snatch. “But now I’m ready for the main course.”