Ashran felt the smooth wood of the ritual pole pressed against his naked bum furrow, his hands tied firmly up and behind him. He would be quite unable to go anywhere for the rest of the morning. The Market Square had already begun to fill with townspeople as the eight Archons had entered, spectators anxious to see the first preparations of the day.
The two- and three-story buildings surrounding the square were stately, far more elegant than anything in his home province. Even the square itself was paved with cobblestones instead of just flattened dirt. Those lucky enough to have upper story dwellings on the square would have a fine view of the day's activities.
His eyes had been covered by a soft cloth, higher quality than what was used in Wensworth. Without sight, his other senses were more keenly alert. Sounds, and especially touch, would dominate his morning.
The sun was barely up, and the fact that it was not uncomfortably cool at this hour meant it would be blazing hot by midday, when this part of his ordeal would finally be over.
But he would triumph, he knew this without doubt.
The maiden who had coaxed his cock stiff that morning had had fine, soft hands, just the sort of good omen that augured well for the day. The hands had smoothly stroked his member, gentle fingers carefully caressing his balls and thickening shaft. Before his eyes had been covered he had seen that his Birser was small, with plump round haunches, short light curling hair, attractive enough for one of her type. He was a good head and a half taller than her, and could have lifted her with just one of his large, hairy arms.
He had stiffened quickly under her expert ministrations and Ashran had noted, even with the cloth around his eyes, that she had taken a sharp breath in when he had reached full hardness.
The size of his cockhead had always drawn comments. Eyes would go wide. Maidens would pause and wonder whether they could handle his entry into them. Some would not permit it, but would take him in their mouth only. He imagined coupling with the Birser, making her squeal like a pig as he impaled her underneath him.
Just the thought of feeling the soft flesh of her haunches in his hands while he drove into her made his cock spasm to greater hardness. He thought of his big raging cockhead ramming into the back of her channel and then spewing its hot, well churned seed forth into her, filling her lovely full.
The rope here in the capital was softer than at home in Wensworth too, less abrasive, and would not be cutting into his wrists as sharply. He had been tied firmly, but not over-tight, and had experienced plenty worse in training. At least this aspect would be an improvement today.
He tried to settle onto the bare soles of his feet equally, determined to stay as comfortable as possible for the next several hours of enforced immobility.
He had not been able to avoid the continual gaze of the Watcher assigned to him since his entry into the competitions yesterday, even in the darkness of the sleeping quarters last night. These Watchers here in the capital were more vigilant, better trained than at home, and he had dared not offer a bribe.
If an Archon could manage to secretly coax even a single load of seed from his cock just before the Challenge, his odds of victory improved markedly, as his next spend would likely be prolonged. But eyes had been upon each of the Archons day and night from the moment they entered the amphitheatre, one attentive Watcher to each Archon, for just this sort of trickery.
Even if the spilling happened accidentally, in a sleeping dream, the Archon would be disqualified, disgraced. Ashran had mastered the art of shedding his seed without discovery, his hands quick and furtive, as indeed he had done in the Wensworth trials, giving him a good edge against his opponent the next day, but such success had eluded him here so far. But there was at least one more night before things became critical.
With the binding of the last Archon, the townsfolk had been allowed to move about the square, with many more to arrive later in the day. They would make their way from pole to pole, examining each of the eight bound and outstretched Archons, comparing the stiffness of their cocks, reckoning each Archon's chances of mating with Regina, speculating on the strength of their seed, on and on. Each Archon's pole had a guard nearby, to make sure nothing untoward happened.
"Ah, look at this one," Ashran heard, as the first fingers ran over his shaft and cockhead, sliding his cockskin up and down, then reaching under his balls.
"A sturdy cock, to be sure," another voice went. "Balls stuffed to overflowing with seed, aching to get out. Feel how heavy they are."
Eager fingers hefted his balls, squeezing and holding them up for inspection.
"This would be a fine one to be up me," went a woman's voice with some excitement, and Ashran felt his member pulled on sharply, his cockskin pulled up over his cockhead and given a squeeze. "He'd get a good girl baby out of me, he would!"
"Easy there," went the guard, darkly. "Touching is fine, but leave his member in one piece. He'll want to be a winner for sure, and won't last the day if everyone pulls on him that way."
The hands let go, the first of dozens, perhaps hundreds that morning that explored his cock. Sometimes a set of fingers would caress his haunches or play up and down his inner thighs, tweak his nipples, erect in the morning air, but the guard never let anyone linger for long.
It had actually been more difficult in Wensworth to stay hard the whole morning, just because there were fewer people to touch one's cock, but here in the great city with its vast crowds, contact was frequent and relentless and it did not take great effort to stay stiff for the entire morning.
All this was prelude, however, and already Ashran was going over in his mind his strategies for handling his Archon opponents later. His focus had to be complete. His own cock had never tasted defeat, always lasting longer than anyone pitted against him.
Of all the others, it was only the runt from Fernwood who gave him any pause. Ashran should have crushed him while wrestling, but the slender one had been surprisingly elusive, persistent as one of those biting insects found in the deep forests, always just beyond reach, coming back for more.
Finally a blast from the midday horn signaled some respite, and his bonds were loosened, his eyes freed from their cloth. He blinked in the noon sun, rubbed his wrists and took a break, with the others, for food and rest until the evening, and the last of the challenges for that day.
*****
The Market Place had been buzzing with excitement since late afternoon, as the townsfolk jostled for the best position for viewing the Challenge. All were heatedly discussing the Archons' merits, already finding their favorites, trading stories of their own feel of their selected Archon's member, how firmly his balls were held in their sack, how thick and strong his seed would be when expelled, how much better he was than all the others. Regina noted the taut anticipation in the air as she ascended to her place in the balcony of the City Hall.
The evening's round, the first of the Challenges, went well from Regina's view. The eight had become four, with both the Wensworth man and the slender dark-haired lad from Fernwood outlasting their opponents. The big cock of Ashran had sent forth a fine strong spurt of seed, a murmur of appreciation rippling through the assembled crowd, as the first wad of thick white fluid had gone a fair distance, audibly hitting the cobblestone surface of the square a few steps in front of him, a goodly number of spurts following.
His opponent, a tall flaxen-haired fellow, had large, handsome, firm balls and a cock that curved beautifully upward, but Ashran had brought him off quickly, to end the round.
The count for Lorca had been smaller, but he still had easily outlasted his competitor, and he had shown unusual dexterity in quickly and efficiently coaxing a good quantity of seed from his counterpart.
The four would take their rest and food that evening and would be carefully watched through the night, to then meet at noon the next day in the Market Place. They would then be reduced to the two finalists, who would convene at this same time and place tomorrow, before dinner, for the final deciding.
Regina's thoughts had grown lascivious at the sight of the seed erupting from the Archons' straining cocks, their faces tightly drawn while trying to hold off against the vigorous stroking administered to them by their rivals.
The look of dismay on the losers was heart-rending, but this was a time-honoured tradition when an heiress was needed. A strong, enduring cock was vital. The failed Archons at least would have a whole month of easy living in the city afterward, a partial recompense for their hard training.
Fine food and everything they could want would be happily supplied them, with many chances to couple with willing townswomen. There would be no shortage of handsome young maidens anxious to welcome their well-trained cocks personally. The Month of Abandon at least offered that consolation.
The next day at noon, the completion again went smoothly, even if there was more tension amongst the spectators. The big man from Wensworth again triumphed, pitted against a broad shouldered lad from the peninsula.
Of course the counts had been greater for this second round, and Ashran had had to work hard on his opponent until finally the long slender cock of his rival, with its light groin thicket and narrow hanging balls, finally yielded up a good load of seed. At his turn, Ashran had held out well, and again a majestic arc of seed crowned his final eruption, a good thirty counts longer. The townsfolk cheered and shouted their approval.
"A good strong thick one there!"
"Much seed, and well sent!"
In the last midday bout, Lorca was paired with a stoutly built Archon from the Isthmus, the one who had pinned his opponent in the wrestling competition. They sized each other up, Lorca half a head shorter, and much more slightly built. Their cocks were about the same size, and his dark haired opponent had much hair on his legs and chest, and an impressive growth around his member .
But Lorca, who was bound first, had managed to set a high mark for longevity, his mental focus quite complete. With different opponents, it was often hard to gauge exactly what worked for arousal. Lorca's rival, if he had spent more attention on Lorca's balls, which alarmingly had risen very quickly with the commencement of stroking, might have prevailed. But the fellow instead had concentrated more on the head of Lorca's cock, unsheathed from the beginning, and had not used his cockskin very effectively along his shaft.
