Cuckolding in a Fantasy World

Author's Note:

Hello friends. This is my first story. I've consumed many forms of NTS/NTR media and I've concluded that they all appeal to me in different ways. In the kink (and lifestyle) there are people who enjoy different aspects of it and there's no one size fits all. I myself am still trying to understand my own preferences.

So this story is an exploration of that. The direction this story goes in depends on my mood and the ideas that pop into my mind.

That being said, I will keep the cast of characters small and focused. The main characters will be the MC, FMC, and two main bulls.

Finally, to all the cucks, cuckoldresses, stags, vixens, hotwives, bulls, swingers, doms, subs, switches, and anything in between -- who are either in the lifestyle, curious, fantasizing, deliberating, questioning, confused, coping, or anything in between (again), you're not alone.

Thank you for reading.

Discord: netorare_fan

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Cordain readied his short sword as he stood before his much larger opponent. The sword, dull from the past two weeks fighting in the tournament, felt like a natural extension of his arm. It felt good. He felt unstoppable. He swung it a few times, testing his sword and loosening up. Despite the chinks in the blade from those previous battles, it felt perfect in his grip.

Before him was the previous year's champion. He was a much larger man, towering over Cordain. But, Cordain knew size was not a guarantee of victory. The large man before him had a giant mace that could shatter skulls and shields alike. But it was heavy and required the use of both hands to wield. Cordain only needed one hand to use his blade, and it gave him an advantage in both speed and maneuverability. If he stayed light on his feet, he could chip away at his stamina.

The announcer for the match looked back and forth between the two fighters, and with a bellowing voice, said, "Ready yourselves!"

Cordain held up his sword defensively. His opponent raised his mace over his head. A moment of silence hung between them. The only sound was the crowd holding their breath, eagerly anticipating the fight.

"And... Begin!" the announcer screamed, as he jumped back to the edge of the arena. A roaring cheer erupted from the audience.

Cordain darted in quickly, swinging at the big man. With a few decisive cuts, the giant quickly withdrew into a defense. His giant mace was unwieldy. The giant had no way of hitting Cordain with the way he danced around. Every attack the giant attempted to make was easily dodged or parried by Cordain's smaller sword.

"He's slow." Cordain thought. "I need to keep him on his heels." With that, he continued to push the giant back, cutting him again and again. Every cut scratched him, but the giant seemed unaffected by the pain. "Dammit. I need to end this quick," thought Cordain, "before I tire out."

The momentary lapse was all the giant needed. With uncharacteristic agility, his mace flipped around and he simultaneously parried Cordain's slash and pummeled his temple with the base of the handle.

In an instant, everything went black.