Story Memoirs of a Moondust

Magonia

Magonia

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Jan 2, 2022
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I was thinking of a way to share my CK3 game in a way that people might actually like my posts
I also been thinking of how im going to make an epic cuck story about @Moondust

Then I realised i can hit two birds with one stone and write this epic story about Moondust as a Royal house in CK3 thats obsessed with white queens taking bbc and white men colonizing the shitskins with bwc.

I also included top 25 posters on neets.net as the top 25 royal courts. Except i have neetgod switched with fabio on accident. but it might be better this way, Neetgod and moondust get to share a border.

Wedding
14 Jan 867 AD​
Amidst the grandeur of the chapel, adorned with ancient tapestries and the glow of countless candles, King Rastislav @Moondust stood, a vision of regal insignificance. His green eyes, usually sharp as emeralds, were glazed with lust as he gazed upon his bride, Queen Judith. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders like liquid gold, framing a face so cute it could have been sculpted by the angels themselves. Rastislav's heart raced; his breaths came quick and shallow. The mere thought of Judith, with her insatiable appetite for carnal pleasures—the kind that would make the saints weep in their heavenly abode—sent shivers down his spine and stirred his loins with a primal urgency.They exchanged vows, but Rastislav barely heard his own words. His mind was awash with vivid recollections of whispered confessions, the sinful secrets Judith had shared with him. She sought to upend the very pillars of Catholic sexuality, to indulge in the flesh not as sin but as sacrament. The notion of her desires, boundless and bold, made his manhood stiffen beneath his royal garb.



The ceremony concluded with haste, a perfunctory blessing from a red-faced priest who seemed eager to escape the palpable eroticism filling the air. No sooner had the final "Amen" been uttered than Rastislav and Judith retreated to the bedchamber, their steps echoing off the stone walls, a prelude to the night's symphony of flesh.In the seclusion of their sanctuary, where the heavy drapes shut out the world, they shed their garments with frenzied hands. Judith's body lay before him, a feast for the senses, her skin aglow in the dim light of the chamber. Rastislav's sad jawline twitched with anticipation as he beheld her naked form, a testament to the divine artistry of creation.



With nary a word spoken, they came together, their union a dance as old as time itself. Rastislav took her with a voracious need that belied his weak frame. The room filled with the sounds of their coupling, a cacophony of gasps and moans that resonated against the cold, hard walls. Each thrust was a declaration, a bold assertion of their mutual desire to redefine the boundaries of their faith through the language of the body. Judith met his every move with a cowardly surrender that only spurred Rastislav further, driving him deeper into the wellspring of her passion. He reveled in her warmth, her softness, the way she clung to him as though he were the very bastion of her liberation. Their wedding night unfolded as a fervent testament to their unspoken pact—to worship at the altar of Eros with a devotion that would make hedonists of them both. And as they reached the pinnacle of their pleasure, the world outside faded to nothingness, leaving only the sacred covenant of their flesh to define the dawn of their reign.

Catgirls

In the dim glow of the chamber, post-coital whispers unfurled like tendrils of smoke. Bohdana leaned in, her storm-cloud eyes sparkling with secretive delight. Judith, flush from the night's exertions, listened with rapt attention as her maid of honor painted images in words, each sentence a vivid stroke of exotic allure. "Catgirl fashion," Bohdana purred, "the very fabric of Bulgarian decadence, woven into every seam." She traced a finger along Judith's arm, leaving trails of imagined velvet and lace. "But here, in Morovia? Such delights elude us."Judith sighed, her thoughts adrift in visions of feline finesse—ears perked atop heads, tails swishing behind. Her heart quickened at the thought of silken suits hugging her form, the playful innocence of such attire clashing deliciously with the carnal knowledge that now simmered within her.



"Rastislav must gift us this," she murmured, voice thick with longing.


Bohdana nodded, her lips twisting into a sly smile. "Oh, he will. Our king is charitable to our whims. And what greater whim than to dress his queen—and her confidante—in the sultry garb of distant lands?"They rose, bodies languid yet determined, and found Rastislav surveying his kingdom from the balcony, green eyes lost in contemplation. The women approached, their gait predatory, silently encircling their quarry.


"Dearest," Judith cooed, her voice a honeyed blade, "we yearn for something... unattainable in Morovia."


"Cat suits," Bohdana interjected, her tone laced with wicked promise. "And toys of the feline persuasion."

Rastislav turned, his sad jawline casting shadows in the moonlight. He surveyed them, the aftermath of their consummation still clinging to their skin, and felt a familiar stirring within. Their request—a trifling thing, really, when weighed against their recent sacrament. "Consider it done," he conceded, voice betraying the hunger that this peculiar fantasy ignited. "Done," they echoed, their satisfaction palpable, imagining themselves as beguiling creatures of the night, wrapped in the forbidden allure of Bulgaria's catgirl fashion.
 
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Copexodius Maximus

Copexodius Maximus

Unwanted, Unloved, and left to die
Dec 2, 2020
2,851
I was expecting some cuck fantasy, but then I remembered that NEETgod is gone.
 
Magonia

Magonia

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Jan 2, 2022
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The autumn sun dipped low, casting elongated shadows across the road where I, King Rastislav @Moondust, lay in wait. The air was thick with the scent of impending retribution. Duke Zalan—his doom written in the treasonous ink of betrayal—approached. My heart, a drumbeat of malice and anticipation. A rustle in the underbrush; my accomplice, the African, poised like a panther ready to pounce. His purpose: not merely capture, but carnal conquest upon Zalan's capture. A cuckold's sentence for a traitor's crime.

The moment ripened. Zalan's carriage clattered into the trap. Men leapt from their hiding spots, seized him—his eyes wide, the realization a bitter gall on his tongue. The Duchess Vasilka emerged, her shock a pale mask soon flushed with lust as the African stepped forth, ebony skin a stark contrast against the dying light. "Judgment" fell upon her, a seduction dark and deep. Her resistance crumbled like the walls of a conquered city. He took her before all, her moans a melody of forbidden desire. The Duchess despoiled, the African's triumph complete within her.

I watched, hand at my loins, the spectacle a balm to my vengeance. Zalan beside me, the irony of our shared arousal a twisted kinship. Together, we spilled our seed, an offering to the chaos of our world. The road crossing now a stage for royal debauchery, the act completed, the Duchess marked by the African's potent claim. Whispers of the event would travel, a tale of erotic justice served at the dusk of a traitor's day.

1707417809799

Zalan is a Vassal of King Bogoris Haruhi Suzumiya of Bulgaria (not going to tag him unless it gets more personal) he is the one that Contracted Moondust for the imprisonment

I was expecting some cuck fantasy, but then I remembered that NEETgod is gone.
the real cuckolding hasnt even begun. this is going to be a cuck saga
 
Magonia

Magonia

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1707467914298


The second day of June, the year of our Lord 872, brought discord to my court. Bazidar, his tongue a viper's lash, dared mock her Majesty, my Queen Judith. Her cheeks flushed with ire as his words cut deep; he scorned her passion for the catgirl fashion of Bulgaria, dismissing it as child's play of Nitre.

"Only for babes," he jeered, a sneer twisting his lips. The courtiers watched, rapt, as tension strung the air tight.

My queen, her golden hair a halo of consternation, trembled with barely contained rage. She was no warrior in body, yet her spirit bore claws, and I admired her silent battle. Judith’s eyes, twin pools of stormy disdain, found mine. The subtle lift of her brow beckoned me, and I excused myself from the throng of onlookers. In a secluded alcove, her whisper was a serpent's hiss, "Enough."

"Yesterday, passe," she spat, recalling his scornful mockery of our attire. Her hands clenched into fists, delicate as doves yet fierce in their wrath. "Ungrateful swine," she seethed, her usual caution abandoned before the fire of her indignation. The erotic scholar within her, the one who studied the carnal texts with fervor, now sought justice, not pleasure.

"Escort him out," I commanded, voice low but irrevocable.

"From our Motte," she added, firm, an echo of my resolve.

"Immediately," I growled, the word a sharp blade cutting through the tension.

The guards, clad in chainmail that glinted like silver in the torchlight, approached Bazidar. Their presence, a wall of steel and muscle, brooked no argument.

"Leave," I said.

Bazidar's face registered surprise, then anger, but he was powerless against my will, against the Queen's unspoken command. He was ushered out, his protests fading into the stone corridors of our castle—a bitter symphony to his disgrace. "Morovia is ours," Judith murmured, satisfaction lacing her delicate features. "Let none forget." "None shall," I vowed, watching her with newfound respect. The Queen had shown her mettle, and though her body may not have been honed for combat, her heart was a fortress unto itself.
 
Magonia

Magonia

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Two years spun by, days and nights tangled in sheets of lust and whispers of power. Then, before Rastislav's throne, Ban Waryslaw limped forth, his maimed leg a testament to battles fought and paranoia earned. "Malamir," he rasped, "of Bulgaria." The name hung in the air, heavy with implication. This Malamir, envoy of Avarian opulence, wished to weave their exotic wares into the tapestry of Morovian desire. Catgirl fetish play, an indulgence that made Judith's heart quicken, her body yearn for the silken caress of costume and claw.

"Absurd," Waryslaw grunted, his loyalty to Morovia a shield against foreign seduction. Yet Rastislav's gaze drifted, envisioning Judith adorned in Avarian allure, her pleasure paramount, her satisfaction his kingdom's cornerstone."Agreed," he declared, his words sealing the pact. Morovia would open its arms to Bulgarian spice, to merchant dreams spun from the threads of erotic fantasy. For his people were the women of his land, their desires his decree, their ecstasy his empire.

And so, King Rastislav ruled, his reign a tapestry of flesh and fervor beneath the ever-watchful eyes of saints and sinners alike.
 
Magonia

Magonia

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I noticed Haruhi is nolonger King of Bulgaria so I did some investigating what happened. He lost in a dethronement war and is now the new kings, there might be more to it than that. Before then he faught defending against barbarous heathens in other wars and was taken prisoner. So maybe it was that they didnt want a king that was imprissoned or did not like the regency he had because of it maybe. He is now a caravan master for the new King of Bulgaria King Dox. (((Master?))) He remains single with no children. Its possible his dynasty ends with him
 
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Magonia

Magonia

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1707495531799

At the price of one positive comment soon I will continue the story of Moondust getting cucked
 
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