Regina Ch 01 The Running Of The Archons

First part of three...

Looking out across the amphitheatre Regina surveyed the champion Archons from the eight provinces with a small but sharp shudder of pleasure. They were a fine looking lot; fit, trim, anxious and with the kind of nervous, expectant energy that promised a rousing several days of entertainment.

The townsfolk had loudly voiced their approval from their crowded balconies, upper story windows and the sides of the road as the group of eight had trotted briskly from the bridge through the high street of the city to the amphitheatre. From her perch in the grandstand Regina could gauge their progress as the shouts of encouragement had grown louder and closer.

The runners' cocks, erect and vibrant looking, bobbed rhythmically as they jogged in, the up and down tempo of their members matching each runner's gait. Their balls were drawn up, their hindquarters taut, strong and smooth, their thighs bunching with the effort of a late morning's run in from the Market Street bridge.

Only the briefest of a top tunic covered their shoulders from the high noon sun, their waists and lower bodies uncovered, even their feet were bare, while the regulation leather brithnel was hitched about their midsection, off to the side but ready when needed.

The tall broad-leafed trees ringing the amphitheatre would not provide any shade until much later in the day. The eight stood in a line, bowing in turn to acknowledge Regina. The annual Running of the Archons was underway.

For six consecutive years, Regina had enjoyed this event, the yearly tribute in her honor as the heiress to the land, which had commenced with her rise to maturity at the milestone of her twentieth summer.

Her mother, God rest her, had died when Regina was not yet ten, and her father, now grey-bearded, stooped, and increasingly anxious about the future, wanted his only daughter married and settled. A granddaughter could come none too soon, for then the succession would be assured.

Some part of Regina wanted this as well, yet the annual Running of the Archons had become an event that she anticipated with eagerness every year, beginning a month of wild abandon that she often wished would continue forever.

By tradition, it was held during the month of the midsummer solstice, known by all to be the most fertile time. As soon as Regina's courses had completed the month previous, the call went out to the provinces, and the regional contests began.

As she stood in the raised platform with her attendants and other nobility, Alryd, Regina's favorite maidservant, nudged her gently with an elbow, and directed her attention to the Archons to the far right of the lineup.

The last one was not tall but had strong shoulders, and his cock, which kept twitching as it pointed skyward, was most appealing. Dark brown curly hair framed his face, clean shaven like all the athletes. He had a sparse growth of hair on his chest, although a thicker trickle of fur rose from his groin thicket up just past his navel.

His waist was flat and trim, his legs slender but tightly muscled. He had level dark eyebrows and dark eyes, with a penetrating, composed gaze.

The lad next to him was taller, even stronger looking, and possessed a great battering ram of a prick, its heavy head, nearly the size of a walnut, nodding as it stood out proud and level in front of him, pointing towards the grandstand, and Regina.

His balls were darkly furred and surely full with seed. He stood with feet outspread more than was usual, a defiant air on his face. His thick lips, heavy brow and overall carriage suggested some prowess as a wrestler.

The thought of either of these Archons' members inside her was enough for Regina to squeeze her groin in expectant pleasure.

The rest of the lot had a variety of shapes and sizes reflecting the range of the land, and Regina marveled at their similarities and differences, the skin colours that ran from fair to dark, hair that was straight or wavy, flaxen coloured to nearly black, but each, every single one of the eight, had a strong, erect, insistent cock. But of course this was all the case by plan.

Each of the eight provinces furnished their best Archon, a male who had seen between eighteen and twenty five summers, and who possessed qualities of strength, endurance, and vibrancy. While the selection process was rigorous, the potential prize to the winner was great - the hand of Regina and a splendid life at court.

If his status was confirmed, the winning Archon could never rule as king but would lack for nothing, and would share Regina's bed. Most importantly, he would be father to the heiress to the land. It was no wonder that there was never a lack of contenders.

Regina turned to Alryd. "Would you find out about the last two? Their names and provinces? Both have more than usual appeal."

******

Lorca's senses were on full alert as he and the others entered the stadium at a brisk pace. The day was warm, much hotter here in the lowlands of the city than the forested shade of his homeland, and he was sweating freely. Every pore on edge, his thoughts were clear and focused, but his body was loose and ready.

These next few days meant everything that he had been training for. It was impossible not to spot the central grandstand as the Archons entered the arena, the shaded platform where the heiress would be waiting, her family and attendants clustered around her. He had not formed a clear picture of her appearance, hearing only that she was handsome, an observation passed on from the friend of an Archon of an earlier year.

She was said to be fair of skin, with soft eyes, but he knew little more.

Yet there she was, the royal Regina, at the center of a group in the front of the grandstand. He felt rather than saw the other Archons' gaze directed that way as well, as they circled the stadium and came, standing in a row, to face the regal group.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the strong looking cock of his neighbor, whose large prickhead bobbed as it pointed forward.

Regina was smaller than he expected, barely of his own height, and wore a loose light lavender coloured dress, simply cut but of sumptuous cloth. Its flowing fabric gave him some idea of her form, a slight subtle curve to her hips, an appealing swelling of cloth at her chest.

Her long, wavy hair was an amber colour, like that of the honey from the mountain bees, yet streaked lighter in places from the sun. Lorca thought it settled nicely on her bare shoulders. A half smile played over her face, and she turned to a companion at her side to speak, gesturing at the Archons below and in front of her.

Lorca knew the rest of this first day would be primarily an exhibition, an easy task compared to his earlier exertions the past month. There would be footraces, at which he excelled, and some of the strength duels the Archons had engaged in over the past few weeks, but all was merely a show for the spectators, and winning today did not matter, although none wanted to give an impression of torpor.

But tomorrow, events would become increasingly charged. Lorca felt his cock squeeze in expectation.

The competition had been grueling and continual for several weeks beforehand, the Archons often preparing for years before attaining their majority. The first part of the month had consisted of various events designed to gauge an Archon's speed in running, leaping for distance and height, and strength, by lifting boulders and dragging logs.

It was more important to have balance among the different qualities than dominance in any one or two events, and Lorca had balance before all else. He knew his small stature disguised his deceptive strength, and it was rare indeed when another athlete bested him in any event that called for fleetness of foot.

Towards the end of the month, the wrestling week garnered the best qualifiers as judged by the provincial elders, which then set up the ultimate contest for the finalists.

Naturally the final few days had by far been the most challenging, incorporating as it did the most critical of all the events. Fernwood's most accomplished elder, Rosarum, had taught Lorca well, for success in the final competition called for intense mental preparation, more so than for the physical tests of previous weeks.

Rosarum was patient and cunning in his instruction, his students traditionally more likely the ones to qualify beyond Fernwood, and Lorca's abilities had far exceeded those of his final regional opponent. Lorca fervently hoped his fortune would not desert him here in the amphitheatre of the capital.

******

Alryd had returned with intelligence on the two Archons in question. Lorca the slight one, hailed from Fernwood, his dark coarse hair and olive coloured skin characteristic of that southern, mountainous, even lawless province. Ashran the giant, was from the northern Wensworth region, known for its strong farmers and skilled woodcutters.

"Such a fine noble cock on the Wensworth man," marveled Alryd, gesturing at the big fellow as he lined up for a sprint, his member sticking out proud and firm in front of him. Indeed it was larger even than that of last year's winning Archon, of whom Regina had grown most fond, although his seed had not proved to possess sufficient strength.

Regina remembered well how fine it felt to have a powerful thick cock pushing up her, moving like a serpent, filling her enchantingly with warm vibrant seed, a sensation she had missed sorely these past eleven months.

Yet the slender Archon was handsome, and somehow intriguing, his cock beautifully shaped, its upward thrusting head like those forest mushrooms after a rain, his cockskin sheathing all but the very tip of his member.

Regina enjoyed the initial contests, the short sprinting races, and marveled at how strong the haunches were among the Archons as they bunched and hurtled the runners down the length of the stadium. The erect cocks wagging from side to side in the rush of a sprint were especially appealing, as Lorca came in first repeatedly, raising his hands high in victory while his cock pointed skyward as his pace eased at the finish.

The afternoon finished with Archons exhibiting their wrestling skills. There was no advantage to a dominant competition, no official winners or losers, but the Archons vied to show their strength and agility to the crowd and, of course, to Regina in particular.

Lorca had been matched with the brute from the north, and they made an unusual pair, Lorca nearly a head shorter than the big man, whose massive shoulders were powerful, his thighs like tree trunks.

Putting an opponent's shoulder-blades to the ground for a single full count, not just an instant, was the ultimate goal and the means of the clearest win. Victory could also be had by three times forcing one's opponent out of the wrestling circle marked on the amphitheatre grass.

The Archons wrestled naked, with the one requirement that they begin their match with a visibly stiff cock.

One of Regina's well-trained maidens, from a caste of servants known as Birsers, would ensure a strong hard cock for each of the wrestlers, handling an Archon's member gently if soft until it had achieved an acceptable state of stiffness, and then slipping the brithnel with its leather slip knot over the shaft to keep it firm throughout the match.

The crowd especially enjoyed the spectacle of a pin, the loser's prick waving about stiffly in the air while his shoulders, squirming to get free, were held to the ground. The outcome of the pair before Lorca had ended just this way, the strong dark-haired lad from the east having overcome his fair-haired opponent, whose thick short cock had ignominiously wagged about in the final throes of his pin.

Lorca and Ashran faced each other and gripped each other's forearms in the ceremonial ritual before competition. At the start Lorca would need to reach up a fair ways to reach Ashran's wide shoulders.

With the signal they began by gripping each others' shoulders, trying to move the other, Lorca taking the opportunity to size up the strength and speed of the great man in front of him.

Ashran was ponderous but powerful, and straight away pushed Lorca backwards, grasping Lorca firmly with his own large hands and thrusting forward with his heavy shoulders, using his strong legs and hips to force Lorca back, whose feet skidded on the grass, unable to maintain position. Several times Lorca needed to shift direction quickly at the ring's edge to keep from being forced out, using surprisingly adept footwork to alter his backward path.

Once Lorca ducked down, pulling the great man's hands down with him, and almost overturned his opponent by seizing a knee and nearly toppling the big man, but the Wensworth man slipped his grip and resumed his attack. Ashran was more cautious now however, approaching Lorca more deliberately. For several minutes they gripped each other's limbs, feeling each other out, their cocks pointing straight at each other, sweat oozing from their taut bodies.

Lorca's speed was an asset, and he had once managed to get behind Ashran and toss him to the ground. For a spell Lorca kept the large body pinned down underneath him, his cock pressing into the big man's rump furrow, as he sought a chance to overturn his opponent. But the great fellow quickly reversed their positions and soon, with a heavy forearm on the back of Lorca's head, pushed the smaller man's chin brutally into the ground.

A few of the spectators hissed at what seemed to be an excessive use of force, although others nodded approvingly at the sheer power of the northerner, whose prick had remained thick and rigid throughout the competition, bobbing stiffly as the wrestlers moved.

Lorca, with an unexpected burst of quickness, wriggled free from the Wensworth man's grip to stand again facing him, and the two circled each other warily, sweat streaming from their brows and limbs.

As neither wrestler was able to sustain a clear advantage by the end of the allotted time, the match was signaled a tie by the official. Lorca displayed an ugly scrape on his chin, two fingers in width, from his rough treatment.

Regina pulled at Alryd's sleeve, and spoke breathlessly.

"Look at his spirit! His eyes are still determined, his gaze clear. He will do well here the next few days, methinks." Her loins squeezed in anticipation. She could hardly wait for the next days' contests to unfold.

With the end of the wrestling, the day's events were over, and the crowd dispersed, Regina and her entourage returning to the Great House.

******

Later that evening, Regina's childhood friend Ladvia, in a long crimson dress, joined her for dinner at her table in the Great Hall. Inseparable as young girls, Ladvia had married the provincial nobleman Rutilla and moved far from the city, and the two old friends now rarely saw each other, between their respective duties of running their households and handling affairs in their regions.

After their repast, wine goblets still in hand, the two shared their thoughts on the Archons of the day.

"The Northerner, surely he must be from the Northlands, was impressive," went Ladvia. "So strong, a noble cock to be sure. How sweet it would be to have that thick powerful rod pushing around inside!" She wiggled her hips in pleasure.

Regina demurred. "I liked the slender one better."

"You'd prefer the small handsome one?" Ladvia asked, eyebrows arching and shaking her wild mane of dark hair. "Versus the impressive size of the big brute? Surely strong seed from his marvelous loins."

Regina laughed. "No, it was Lorca's eyes that drew me," she said. "Dark. Penetrating."

"Penetrating you will surely get soon," laughed Ladvia. "Although the eyes matter far less there."

She paused. "But you know his name already? Lorca is it? Where is he from?"

"Fernwood," replied Regina. "I know little about it."

"Neither I, but it is likely uncultured. Do you know the name of the other?"

"He is Ashran, from Wensworth."

"Ah, yes, he is from the Northlands then. Both are far distant, both from the city and from my own province. It will be an interesting few days, I cannot begin to speculate the outcome."

Latvia's eyes were restless, shining. Her focused gaze at Regina made clear she was enjoying her visit.

"Care for some after-dinner entertainment?" Regina ventured.

"Of course. What about the two fine dancers you mentioned earlier?"

"Yes," murmured Regina. "A find idea."

"Alryd, would you fetch Rondel and Bertold?"

They watched Alryd's swaying hips disappear down the hall, the ends of her long green linen dress moving from side to side as she went. She was of medium size, with long light hair and a demeanor of dedication, purpose and control.

"Sometimes I envy her," sighed Regina. "She is free, has none of my cares, and has the choice of the Archons who come up short. And there is plenty pleasure to be had there."

After the month's competitions, most of the failed Archons elected to stay in the capital as servants, dancers, or attendants at the periodic athletic events of the Grand Month. They were treated well, their presence welcome everywhere. In fact Alryd had the choice of whomever she wished, any time during the year, and no one ever refused.

"She is not really free," replied Ladvia. "She must honor the rules of the land and her burden is not small. She needs to watch you the rest of the year, each night, to make sure you only couple during your Midsummer's month, as only then can the father of the heiress be verified. Her own chances for pleasure are far more limited than yours."

"It is true she sleeps in my chambers every night during the year, or just outside it if I have no companion, but I would not say that her chances are less. She makes up for it with long sultry afternoons, or early morning trysts. Not a bad compensation, it seems to me."

"I would think being always the one to watch you take your pleasure, however you achieve it, would be delight enough," Ladvia said, eyes sparkling.

"Whether you are penetrated or not, there is much enjoyment to be had in watching others, particularly ones you know well. I myself have seen you in the throes of lust, and it is not an unpleasant sight." Ladvia's smile was indulgent, knowing.

Regina lowered her eyes. "Most of the time I do not mind not coupling, and pleasures can come in many ways. Although it is such a relief, and so enchanting to have my midsummer's month every year when all is open and finally I am left completely alone with my lover, his cock free to pierce my loins whenever I wish."

She changed topic abruptly. "But you haven't seen me in ages! Barely once since before my eighteenth summer when we were barely no longer girls! How goes it with your Rutilla? Are you happy in the provinces, so far from home, and here?"

Ladvia's dark brows narrowed. "All is fair enough. He is a fine man, although much older than I, as you well know. He treats me kindly and I have no wants but one, and even that he indulges."

"What could that be?" Regina asked.

"We couple but once or twice a month, he is so busy with his daily efforts and is often tired. His cock and ardor are not that of a young man. It is not enough for me, as you might well expect."

"Of course," Regina's smile was knowing. "You were always a woman of strong desires. What does this mean then?"

"The bonds are unofficially loosened. I take one, sometimes two lovers at a time. He doesn't mind, just doesn't want to know the details. So my appetites are satisfied in some fashion anyway."

"I understand," Regina said, "but still perhaps not ideal."

"It is fine. But having a holiday in the capital is wondrous good for me. I can stay here carefree for several weeks and having old friends around me again is a balm." She reached out to stroke Regina's shoulder.