Robert of the Roundtable Ch 02

Robert of the Roundtable Ch 02

A young would-be knight enters knighthood trials

This series is fiction--a mash-up of the Arthurian legend, the medieval rivalry between the Normans (in modern day France) and the Saxon-Celts (in Britain), the Crusades and the interplay of politics and religion in the Middle Ages. Let me warn you. There are many anachronisms--but this is the story of a few unusual men, living in a time during a time about which little is really known with certainly. Everyone who engages in sexual activity is over 18--although at the time, that would not necessarily have been the case. © Copyright, 2025, Brunosden. All rights reserved.

At the end of the first chapter, Robert, a Norman would-be knight has traveled to England for the grueling trials designed to determine knighthood-potential. He has been accepted as a potential contender and been adopted for mentoring by Sir Michael du Nor, a young bachelor knight of considerable renown, betrothed to the King's youngest daughter, but with a pre-nuptial appetite for young male flesh. The preparation for the knighthood trial continues.

In Robert's voice....

The second day of preparation was as unlike the first as I could have imagined. Each of the contestants (there were four of us) had been learning the skills of a Roundtable knight "on the job"--so to speak, carefully watched by assigned mentors on the first day and coached by masters. Looking back on the first day, it seems that at first we were mere serf lane-fighters, not skilled and practiced knights. But, by day two, rough hand to hand combat began to morph to more practiced maneuvers to achieve dominance without personal injury. This was really only play, we realized. But the consequences would change lives. Many new moves appeared in the sword-play arena. During wrestling competitions, take-downs took ages and occurred only as one of the two contestants was nearing total exhaustion. Short encounters were becoming long drawn-out tests of strength, strategy and stamina. Ragtag fighters were becoming potential knights!

I started to form a partnership of sorts with Gabby (Gabriel), as the two Nordic gladiators (the other two contenders) naturally began to move together. He had traveled from the Low Country, and, like me was the third son of a Lord, although not so famous or wealthy as my father the Duke of Aquaterre. The victory strategy was beginning to emerge: the two gladiators clearly had the strength and stamina, but Gabby and I were faster, more strategic, and capitalized more successfully on errors and weaknesses.

By lunch break, it seemed that any one of us could prevail and be knighted. It was a contest any of us could win. Michael had witnessed all of the encounters and walked with me to the Great Hall for the mid-day repast. I assumed we would detour to his quarters for some personal time. I was pumped. My adrenalin and testosterone were both flowing; my cock was swollen inside the thick linen wrap surrounding my loins and holding me tight--the only garment we were permitted during the competition. I was definitely ready for some release--of the sexual kind.

But, instead of moving to his chamber, he steered us to the dining hall and the end of a long trestle table where we were served bread, ale and thick slices from a roasted joint. He must have read the disappointment in my eyes. "I watched all very carefully this morning. Your opponents are indeed worthy. Any of you could prevail and win the prize. We are going to need to work harder. And you, Robert, are going to need to muster all of your strength--and your will to win. I want you ravenously hungry for victory. I think I know how to do this. Until the trials are over, I will not permit you to spill your seed, Robert. I need you hungry and dominant if you are going to succeed."

My eyes or perhaps my crestfallen frown must have given away my feelings. Certainly my cock was painfully and obviously hard behind the linen loin wrap. And so he continued. "In fact, I'm going to bring you to the edge of relief many times in the next few days, but I forbid you to release your seed. By the weekend when the final contest is held, you will have developed intense self-control, and you will have so much male aggression pent up inside that you will be potentially the champion of all aggressiveness. Those three worthy opponents will stand between you and me. You must vanquish them to have me. Besides, restraint is one of the cardinal virtues of a knight. Only a boy gives himself up or takes another carnally on a whim and without reason. You must be able to postpone your own desires for the good of a cause, for the increase in pleasure it will yield--or for the welfare of the weak. And, if you prevail, when you prevail, you will have a prize. My prize. The only one that I have to offer. My body will be yours to plunder. I will gladly welcome your cock inside me. Now, do I have your promise? That you will not spill your seed after the trials when we join together in my bed after your victory?"

I sat silent for at least a minute, I'm sure. I am not quite 19 years of age. How can I abstain for days? And what is he going to do to me during those days? He said he was going to bring me almost to orgasm. What did "almost" mean? But I really had no choice. I wanted him with a passion that I had never felt before. And he had set out the terms of that possession. Negotiation was not going to happen. Finally, I murmured a quiet and tentative, "I promise."

"I expected nothing less. Now finish your meal. Your first 'training' session will be in my chamber before the afternoon jousting practice."

If the brief time in his room after lunch was any indicator of the future, I was in for a mentally and physically painful few days. I brightened as we entered, and he called for me to drop the cloth and remove the blouse I had donned for the meal. He did the same. We stood naked, facing each other, both rigidly erect.

Michael moved to the bench, dropped a pillow on the floor between his spread warrior legs and pointed. I knew what he wanted. I knelt and took his cockhead inside, using my lips to roll down the hood. I buried my nose in his thick blond pubes and inhaled his musk. It was so strong that it was intoxicating. I was light-headed with his maleness. And my cock expanded to rigidity on its own accord. It hardened almost to the point of paina, a nether-sword of steel. Soon it began to leak. My fingers cupped his balls and began to massage the contents into movement. His cock swelled and began to leak his tasty cream onto my tongue. The heady hot musk of a champion filled my nostrils. I used a tongue to swirl the glans, and then I traced up and down the swollen tube underneath. Michael's hands went to my hair and head to hold me tight as he face-fucked me. I had totally aroused him; I had him exactly where I wanted. Unfortunately the reverse was also true.

Quickly, the entire scenario changed. He must have looked down to see my leaking precum and blood red cock, ready to explode. So he suddenly stopped everything. He pulled out, slapped my hands away from his crotch, stroked himself to orgasm and plastered my face and lips with his spunk as I knelt like stone before him. Then he quickly wiped it away, denying me the taste of his cum, and drew me into his lap and circled the base of my cock with his index finger and thumb. He squeezed hard. So hard that I yelped at the incredible pain. Then his other hand enveloped my balls and pulled them hard away from my body. Almost instantly, my cock deflated as the pain spread through my scrotum. He held on for what seemed like an eternity. Then, he pushed me from his lap. By then, my cock had become limp, but my libido had exploded.

"Get dressed, Robert. It's time for the jousting practice. I forbid you to touch yourself--not even to urinate. We'll try this again this evening. Take out your aggression on the others! If you want me, that is."

As he had expected, I was angry and ready to lash out. But, I settled down, wound the linen around me, and ran to the arena where Jean Pierre had already saddled Ghost. He handed me the crude wooden breastplate that would alone protect me from injury; then he went behind to tie the leather straps in place. His nose flared. He could smell the musk. He knew that I was primed for aggression. "Oh, milord, methinks you will prevail today. You will intoxicate them with your beauty and destroy them with your strength."

In one day, it seemed, my jousting ability improved. My first opponent was again Gabby, who had unseated me repeatedly the previous day. I think he was as surprised as I when on our first pass I remained in the saddle--and even managed to unbalance him. The second and third passes were the same. We traded blows, wobbled, but remained upright. And finally on the fourth, I swerved to avoid his pole while my pole locked into his armpit beside his wooden shield. Ghost turned away as my thighs tightened in signal--pushing Gabby backward. I gripped the pole hard and moved even closer to his body. I looked with fire into his eyes. And he knew immediately. He wobbled and fell, landing hard on his backside, looking back up into my eyes from the muddy track. His erect cock emerged from his loincloth. He knew he had been bested and he was ready to submit. His grimace immediately turned to a smile. "What has ignited that fire, Robert? May I too partake of your potion? I guess I'll need to be more careful when we meet again."

Later in the afternoon, both Sven and Kirk found similar fates. I unseated both, Sven twice and Kirk three times. That was actually more difficult--they were shorter and stronger, providing smaller targets and lower centers of gravity. But, I had adjusted my technique. By evening, I was tired, but ebullient. I was still riding high on Ghost--although very sore and bruised from the poles that I had caught on my arms, legs and even my chest. And my cock was stiff, but restrained within the linen cloth. I caught Michael smiling in my direction, while silently lipping the words, "I told you so. Don't dare to touch it."

The contenders all moved to the stable to ensure our mounts were well-cared for. I wasn't very concerned because Jean Pierre was quite vigilant in his affection for Ghost. Ghost had done well. He had learned quickly and actually seemed to enjoy the competition although I'm sure he did not understand the full import. But, he had heard the cheers. His head went high and he nickered loudly. Then, it was to the wash stand and the inevitable buckets of icy water. Jean Pierre sensed something was different--perhaps it was the heady aroma of my unspent manhood. I was positively reeking of sex. We were handed clean cassocks again, and promised that our own clothing would be returned the next day. So we trudged back into the castle--Gabby and I alone mooning the staff because of the shortness of our garments. To the gladiators, it was a joke. To us the embarrassment was fading. We seemed to be distinguishing ourselves from them--even if the reason was unusual.

As was customary at the castle, the main meal had been at midday. So dinner was soup and bread--but the ale flowed copiously and continuously as the knights sat around voicing their exploits with great exaggeration. Michael and I remained for hours, listening to the stories. Michael had reclined on cushions, spread his legs and pulled me into his body, suggesting that his mentorship was responsible for my success, but claiming to all the room that I was his. He even added one story of his own. Then the King rose from his cushioned throne to signal the end of the night.

So we moved to Michael's room again.

"You did well today, boy. I am proud of you. Only three more days. It is not going to get easier, Robert. At your age, you create seed at a tremendous pace. And so I think it best for you to put this on." He handed me a strange leather garment, the likes of which I had never seen before. "Knights sometimes use these with their wives when they leave for extended periods of battle. I've asked the leather-smith to modify it a little." It was a wide leather belt with complex laces at the back. He laced the belt onto me, tying the cords at the base of my spine with a complex series of secret knots. It was obvious, but unspoken, that if the cords were untied, he would know. Hanging from the front was a leather pouch which forked into two straps that fastened to the belt at the back, framing my muscular butt. The pouch was made of three semi-rigid chambers. It was small and carefully constructed to hold my cock in one chamber with a small hole at the top (presumably to permit me to urinate) and others that held my balls apart from each other and well away from my body. The leather was sufficiently thick that I couldn't actually feel my manhood with my hands. And rough enough that it would stimulate me with almost any physical motion. Only the ball sacs were a little loose. He forced my genitals into the loose pouches, remarking that within a day or so my balls would be enlarged sufficiently with my seed to rest comfortably in their holders. Then he tied the straps securely to the back of the belt, dipped his signet ring into wax and impressed his seal on the connections. I was immediately aroused and thus quite uncomfortable.

"It would not be good if you were to inadvertently bring yourself to orgasm in your sleep. Instead, now if you start to erect, the constriction of the leather will awaken you with pain. You should then get out of bed and kneel on the cold floor in prayer, asking God to give you relief and comfort from the pain until the feelings pass. You will wear this now until after the final matches."

The whole thing felt very tight--but strangely secure. It meant I belonged to him. "Are you sure, Michael? You will be denying yourself as well."

"Not quite. Your mouth is very talented. And..." He stopped in midsentence and slapped my ass cheeks a few times, and using both hands, spread them apart, leaving a finger to stray into my cleft. "and, you see, I have access where I want it."

My face, I'm sure reddened with anger and embarrassment. "So I am to be your wife and bitch for the rest of the week? Filled at your whim. Denied fulfillment for myself."

"Only if you wish, Robert. You are free to return to your allotted cell. I will continue to be your guide during the practices and at the contest. But, the leather harness will remain in place nonetheless--or you can remove it and return to Patrick. It is your choice. My bed and me with success, or yours in solitude? Or playing with the femboy? I'm told he is really quite a receptive and noisy bottom. Which will it be, Robert?"

Throughout the exchange, Michael had been removing his day garments. He walked over to the trunk and withdrew his night clothes. "Shall I put these on? Or not? It is your choice." He was standing with his legs widely spaced, rigidly erect and magnificent in his nudity. I couldn't say no to him. I moved to the bed and rolled on to my belly. Then I reached over and pulled a bolster under my gut which launched my arse to position myself for his pleasure. I felt the movement of his weight on the mattress within seconds. So I spread my legs apart and reached up to the headboard to wait. His larded fingers were soon at my entrance.

"I will not torture you, Robert. I shall be quick. I'll take my pleasure. And then we can sleep."

"Ah, so I am to be your wife and bitch after all!"

He laughed at my attempt at joke--to hide my pain. Then he plunged and bottomed and stroked a few times (attempting, I thought, unsuccessfully to avoid massaging my nut). My cock attempted to respond, but the constraints caused only pain--except for the intense electric shock of the prostate up my spine. Then I felt his hot seed deep inside. He withdrew and pulled me into a spoon. I was aroused, but unfulfilled. "Sleep well, Robert. Tomorrow is an important day. The first ranking of competitors will be done by the King in the afternoon."

The third day was far more structured. All of us had mastered the complex moves and dances of knights who competed in carnival festivals while sharpening our skills for actual combat. By sundown, it was clear that either I or Gabby would reach the final stage. And I think each of us had been prepped and restrained by our trainers. Both of us were in the highest state of arousal conceivable--and both of us seemed to have been restrained in a similar way--we each avoided the public wash down, but instead returned to quarters without removing the soiled linens that covered our mid-sections. When I reached Michael's room, my own garments had been returned to me, clean and mended--and Michael had ordered a large metal tub, filled with warm water to be placed in the room.

I washed carefully, not climbing into the tub, but trying not to wet the leather cage--for I knew it would hold the moisture and might shrink. I couldn't face even more constriction. After our repast of soup, during the story telling, the King announced: Gabby and I were tied for pre-eminence. Sven and Erik were third and fourth. But, despite the ranking, the decision would be made based on performance on the last day. Only one day of training remained. The champion would be announced tomorrow at a great banquet--and the victor would be knighted at a ceremony at Mass on Sunday morning.

Michael and I left the hall early. Michael's arm was around my shoulder. He was staking his public claim once again. This time, the others offered a variety of ribald comments. "I see Michael is going to take his payment for his tutoring. Beware, Robert. Michael is the most endowed of any of us--save the King of course. No man who has felt his cock ever forgets! You will be his droopy-eyed puppy by morning. We'll be watching for the collar and leash." I reddened with the tease, but remained silent.

We arrived at Michael's chamber, and both of us removed our day garments. But this time, he adopted a very different tone. "I shall not tease you tonight, Robert. You can use your hands or your lips to prepare me for sleep. It is your choice." Then he stretched out on the bed on his back and spread his muscular thighs. His cock was hard and stiff, pointing to the dark timbered ceiling. So I moved over him and using fingers and lips stroked and laved his shaft and massaged his massive eggs until I brought him to climax within minutes. He moaned a sensuous "Thank You" as he emptied into me. I did swallow his cum--perhaps his greatness would transfer to me if his seed rested in my belly for the night. Then, I stretched out beside him trying to push away the pain in my crotch and pushed my posterior into him as he pulled me into his battle-hardened body. Only one more day! I could make it. He was worth it.

The day of trial, although festive and more carnival-like than the practice days, was almost anti-climactic. The stands were full and colorful. All of the contestants were wearing the colors and armor of our sponsors. I proudly wore Michael's sea blue and white (which corresponded to my Father's blue fleur de li on white. The King's daughter, Miriam, who was betrothed to Michael, had handed me a red silk scarf to tuck into my mail. So I had three patrons, Michael, his intended and my distant Father.

We started with swordsmanship where I easily ranked first, vanquishing my opponents quickly and in style. Then it was hand to hand combat where I ranked second behind Sven (with Kirk third and Gabby last). We wrestled. Kirk was first pinning Sven. The match between Gabby and me was called a draw, but all of us understood that Kirk could take any of us. In the afternoon, at the jousts, I was victorious, with Gabby second. Thus, the results were mixed and unpredictable. No one knew what would happen.