Marjohn had not believed it was possible for things to get worse. His daily routine had changed, and for the next five days it followed the same cruel pattern. Strapped firmly to the X-Frame with only a small blanket to cover his body from the waist down, he did not get much sleep at night. Early in the morning, two or three guards would arrive to wake him up and apply the ‘morning exercise’. They always arrived with gleefully malevolent grins, asking how the Great Sword was feeling today.
The first guard would remove the blanket as slowly as possible, in order to allow the fabric to brush teasingly over his enormous genitals. The guards were still under orders not to touch Marjohn’s manhood, and although they constantly cast envious or desiring stares at it, they obeyed that order. Then they would spend the next three hours tickling Marjohn’s prone body - and they were extremely thorough. Toes, feet, ankles, calves, thighs (as close to the massive balls as they could touch without breaking the king’s orders), belly, ribs, armpits, shoulders, neck... No matter how much the young assassin screamed and howled, they showed no mercy. He was given two minutes to rest every half hour. To Marjohn, it seemed as though these tickling sessions each lasted a lifetime.
When they were finished, they would unfasten Marjohn and walk him slowly around the dungeon chamber a few times to stretch his (now trembling) legs. He would also be fed, and be allowed to pass his bodily functions. They were always very close at these times, to Marjohn’s frustration - any time that his hands wandered anyway near his cock, the guards would swipe it away. If it happened twice, they would immediately return him to the X-Frame. Marjohn’s horniness and frustration were overwhelming; there was not a moment in the day when he did not dream of emptying his huge, blue, cum-denied nuts.
Actually, this was a lie - in the midst of the endless tickling, he couldn’t form a coherent thought, and so didn’t think of orgasm. His cock grew rock-hard nonetheless, and bounced around madly as he thrashed helplessly against his bonds.
Another three hour tickle session would take place in the afternoon with a different group of guards, and then his brief respite would follow. Horrifying as these tickling tortures were, they were not the worst part of his treatment. No, it was the nighttime he feared most.
The king would arrive at night, and would expect to see a sample of the day’s tickling. The guards would leap to it happily, up to five of them torturing Marjohn’s athletic body with their busy fingers. The king would simply stand and watch, with the slightest trace of a smile at his lips, as Marjohn babbled like a man possessed.
Then he would wave the guards away, and take up his position sitting on a stool between the assassin’s bound legs. He would lift his hands carefully to Marjohn’s swollen testicles, and the horny young stud’s nightmare would kick into overdrive. The king liked nothing more than to feed the fire’s of the Great Sword’s lusts, without ever bringing him the satisfaction that every part of his body screamed for.
Ten fingers, like fingers of the devil himself, would massage the back of both huge balls. Thumbs would slide teasingly over smooth scrotum skin, while those fingers tickled deftly across the surface of each sensitive egg. Sometimes the king would squeeze gently, and the incredible pressure of the spunk churning within caused Marjohn to fear, genuinely, that his nuts might burst.
As yet, days into his confinement, Marjohn had not properly spoken to the king. Aside from his fearful outburst days earlier, when he thought he was to be castrated, he had remained stubbornly silent in the face of all questions and conversation. The king did not seem to object, but Marjohn had the impression that there was something of a war of wills occurring. The king was waiting for the assassin to break.
Technically speaking, the king had already won that battle. Some evenings, after he had teased Marjohn’s balls for an hour or two, he would attack them anew with his lips and tongue. Cupping the enormous sack with both hands, the king would set to work with relish; his lips would kiss and suck while his warm, wet tongue bathed the vast testicular expanse. The overwhelming pleasure against his sensitive skin caused Marjohn to go berserk, thrashing against his bonds with even greater urgency and crying out desperate, unintelligible cries of frustrated desperation. The king seemed to enjoy this, and continued his efforts all the more intently.
This evening he applied the same oral treatment to Marjohn’s jewels, with one difference. He lifted one hand to the young man’s turgid dick (which was, as a rule, deprived of any contact at all times) and gave it a firm squeeze. His hand pulled gently down, sliding back the foreskin to expose the bulging cockhead. A huge bead of precum oozed between the shining glans, and the king rubbed it slowly into the skin with his thumb. Twice he circled the glans, and then stopped - leaving Marjohn on the precipice of the sweet, sweet relief that he ached for. It was simply too much.
“AAHHHHHHH, NO, PLEASE, DON’T STOP!! ENOUGH, ENOUGH, TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME!!”
The king raised an eyebrow. “Want from you? What do you mean? There is nothing that I want from you, assassin.”
Marjohn’s brain, fried with desire, could not comprehend this. “THEN WHY?! WHEN DOES IT STOP?! WHEN WILL YOU LET ME BE SATISFIED??”
The king nodded slowly, and spoke with quiet assurance - although to Marjohn, the words seemed to echo like the clanging of the gates of hell. “Satisfied? It seems the Great Sword has misunderstood me. This is your punishment for attempting to assassinate me - for the rest of your life, your manhood will be pleasured and stimulated as frequently as all men dream of. But never again, for the rest of your long years, will you be allowed to reach physical satisfaction.”
As the king’s fingers resumed their tormenting work, Marjohn screamed. But it was not like the many, many other screams that had torn from his lungs in the past days of his confinement. This was a scream of sheer, despairing horror.
*****
The king sat at a desk in his chambers, pouring intently over a piece of parchment. His eyes darted quickly back and forth as they took in each word. His body was upright, back straight, giving him an air of firm determination and purpose in his task. He was interrupted by a quiet knock at the door; the door guard stepped in to announce his visitor.
"Captain Correll, of the King's Guard, your majesty."
The king nodded, and the guard stepped back out into the hallway. Immediately, the long black boots of Captain Correll stepped decisively into the room. He closed the door and stood to attention in front of it, helmet held at his side, breastplate gleaming.
"Captain, thank you for your prompt arrival. I have no need to detain you for long, but I wished to ask about matters in regard to our special prisoner. Has the armoury completed my order?"
At five and thirty years, Correll combined the physical fitness of a good soldier with the knowledge of experience. HIs face seemed to convey a sense of caution; his eyes could outstare an owl and his lips formed naturally into a pensive line. In response to the king's question, he nodded once, his brown hair brushing across his eyes as he did so. "Your majesty intends to continue with this plan, then?" he said, doubtfully.
The king studied him ponderously for a moment. "You have not come to visit me for some time now, Captain," he said quietly. "I had begun to think that I had upset you somehow. Perhaps you feel jealous of the... attention I am giving to our young guest?"
"No." Firmly and coldly stated. "I am concerned that my king is needlessly putting his life in danger. Which makes my job more difficult. I believe assassins should be executed, not pleasured."
The corners of the king's mouth rose into the ghost of a smile; a rare occurrence. "I doubt the assassin is enjoying the experience much. You seem to have forgotten what a torture pleasure can be, if it is expertly prolonged. In any case, you have been absent from me for too long, so we should continue this conversation less formally." The king waved his arm towards the bed.
Correll frowned. "I did not come here for that, your majesty. I am here to express my reluctance about the course of acti-"
"You are welcome to express your reluctance in full, Captain, but I should like to keep my hands occupied. Kings have needs beyond protection, you know. The bed, Captain - that is an order."
Correll saluted, and unbuckled his breastplate. He laid it on the floor, and stepped out of his boots. He slipped his breeches off as he stepped across to the bed, and lay down on the luxuriant covers. His exposed manhood was soft, lying three inches across his fat balls. Correll lay still, arms at his sides, while the king sat down next to him. Drawing three fingers gently up his thighs, the king arrived at the captain's testicles and cupped them fondly. "With no sign of you in my chambers, Captain, I had assumed you were at least getting some satisfaction from some of the others in my court. But judging by the weight you are carrying, you haven't even taken a hand to yourself. What do you spend all your time doing that is so important?"
The king began tracing the veins on the Captain's cock with a single finger. Correll grunted as his soft penis began growing and thickening. His full erection, quickly reached, was about four and a half inches long and very stout. Although his penis was not long, the general impression his genitals gave was of thick, masculine presence. The fact that he was circumcised contributed to this effect, and made his manhood rather unique among the many members of the king's court.
Correll's eyes were closed tightly now, and his breathing had grown deeper. "I spend my time trying to ensure your safety, your majesty. The task is made much easier when known assassins, caught in the act of trying to murder a regent, are put to death as the law dictates!"
"The law may dictate, but I am king. Or at least I was when I checked last." The single finger moved to the smooth glans, and began to rub in gentle circles. A finger from the other hand began to draw up and down the centre of the scrotum, between the large balls. "The 'Great Sword' has talents that are useful to me, and I see no reason to squander them. He is little threat when confined constantly in a dungeon cell."
"If by talented you are referring to his manhood, then I agree - he has unique talents that no man can compare with. But I fear you are blinded to danger by your fascination with this new toy. He- ohhhhh ..." Correll moaned, losing his train of thought for a moment. "….he.....he is still... he is still an assassin, trained to kill - a job which he is extremely good at - and contracted to kill you."
The king reached for a small bottle on a table by the bed, and poured a small measure of clear, thick liquid across Correll's excited knob. "New oil, from the far east... apparently it enhances sensation. See what you think." The king rubbed the liquid lovingly across the Captain's cock, which stood straight out from his body now. Correll emitted, a long, low growl of pleasure as the oil took effect. "As you point out, the assassin was contracted to kill me. But as stated, he is stuck in a cell, constantly bound, and driven to distraction by his keepers. Even if freed, his first thought would be sex, not murder. Also, I feel you underestimate just what an excellent and unique toy he really is..."
Correll gasped, drawing breath sharply into his lungs. Two of the king's fingers teased along the prominent veins of his rigid prick, the sensation heightened by the peculiar properties of the oil. His member twitched with the rapid beating of his heart, gently bumping against the wet fingertips. The captain's thoughts were all but shattered under the tender touch. "Yes..... yes....he wants.... ooh, ooh... he wants sex, but-godssaveus! After sex, he'll try to kill you more! More!"
The king was amused. "He'll try to kill me more? I would have thought once would be enough." Fingers returned to Correll's glans, massaging the oil gently into them. The captain could no longer speak; only muttered curses and groans of desire broke his lips. "My intent, dear Captain, is that this young assassin will soon be killing my enemies. All I need to do is make him the right deal, and by now, there is only one thing left that he truly wants."
Abruptly, the king's hands left the red, swollen penis. Correll practically whimpered as the turned towards the door. "Retrieve my order from the armoury and meet me in the prisoner's cell immediately. You needn't bother dressing yourself, Captain."
*****
The sight of a man of the king's guard wandering the castle buildings naked from the waist down, sporting an impressive erection, was not as unusual as might be expected. Many a man of the household had enjoyed the king's attentions, and knew to follow orders swiftly when they were given. The fact that the thick, four and a half inch cock belonged to the Captain of the Guard was enough to cause some interest, and Correll noticed many eyes drawn to him as he journeyed swiftly to the armoury, and then headed to the dungeon. The men on duty around the castle were largely his underlings, and they took great pleasure in observing their commanding officer as he swept past, dick and fat balls bouncing with each step.
Correll found the king alone in the dungeon cell with the assassin, who was firmly bound to the X-frame. Aside from the day of his arrest, Correll had refused to have anything to do with the prisoner (who, in his mind, should certainly be a dead man by now). The incredible vision of the bound man's generous testicles and cock caused him to pause as he entered. The king nodded to him, encouraging him to approach.
Bound to the frame, Marjohn looked at the king and the newcomer with unease. Upon his arrival, the king had dismissed the guards and gagged Marjohn's mouth. This was a change to the assassin's daily routine, which rarely spelt good fortune. This man, whose face he dimly recognised, was half naked and clearly aroused. "What do you think, Captain? He is not quite the confident man you arrested, is he? But perhaps you still think he should die?" The king gestured towards Marjohn, pulling a small bottle from his robes as he did so. "Come, Captain, let us finish where we left off."
The Captain stepped up to the X-Frame as the king poured the oil across the centre of Marjohn's scrotum. Dropping the bottle, he took the Captain's thick cock between his fingers and began to rub the circumcised head against the smooth, taut skin of Marjohn's oiled ball sack. Correll immediately moaned as the warm flesh and slippery oil pleasured his excited dick. The reaction of the prisoner was astonishing; as soon as the oil touched his balls he yelled desperately into the gag, and as the Captain's cock teased him further, the assassin writhed and jerked against his restraints, growling and snarling.
The king lifted Correll's fat balls and laid them on top of Marjohn's massive, full nuts. The Captain could feel the incredible heat and the sensation of churning movement from within. The king gently played Correll's cock against Marjohn's, the thick prick tickling against the other that was twice the size. Oil dripped between the two members as the king toyed with them, and Correll's breathing increased in speed; being used to physically torture the bound assassin was exhilarating. Easing him back slightly, the king brought the head of Correll's cut cock back down to press firmly against Marjohn's bloated, slick scrotum, and paused. When Marjohn's desperate cries died down, the king spoke into the quiet chamber.
"You know you will never be satisfied again, assassin. But perhaps you'd like a reminder of what it's like. I think I'll give the Captain here the pleasure you desire right here, so you can feel every moment." Despite the gag, the whimpered, pleading "Noooooooo..." was clear to both the king and the Captain. With nimble skill, the king began to stroke Correll's thick manhood, his knuckles tickling Marjohn's overloaded sack with every movement.
Marjohn was enraged. The physical and sexual torture he had endured had now been pushed into a powerful new psychological torment. He could feel the incredibly hot, throbbing hardness of the Captain's cock buried against his balls; he could feel every twitch of excitement at his core. As the king pleasured the man, Marjohn was overwhelmed with anger and jealousy - he would happily have killed anyone to receive the attention this man was getting. The thought of any other person finding release while he was forever denied was unbearable. The feel of another man's orgasm pressed against his own controlled manhood was unimaginable. Overwhelmed by emotion, he fought his restraints like a wild animal, and screamed vehemently into his gag. "Don’t' you dare! Don't do it! DON'T YOU DARE DO IT!! I'LL KILL YOU!!"
Correll arched his back and growled with pleasure as the king stroked his manhood. His fat balls tightened up and contracted, causing molten spunk to explode against Marjohn's balls. The happy cries of the Captain were drowned out quickly by the loud, pathetic sobbing of the assassin, as pulse after pulse of warm juice bathed his aching sack.
Eventually the room quieted, save for Marjohn's whimpering as the king cleaned his genitals with unnecessary thoroughness. He was barely coherent as the king left, and the man's last words did not register in his addled brain. "I'll expect to see you in my chambers tonight, Captain - it's been too long since I had company at night. And don’t forget to put the chastity device from the armoury on the prisoner before you leave."
Correll saluted smartly.