For the next three days, Marjohn was left alone in the dungeon. After his first visit, the king had left him in the care of the guards - but to Marjohn's surprise, this proved to be far less unpleasant than he might have expected. Instead of daily beatings and torture, he was left unharmed. He was still cuffed to the X-frame for hours on end, but it had now been moved to a horizontal position, allowing him to lie down instead of straining on his stretched legs. Three times a day the guards would free him and allow him to stretch his legs around his cell for an hour, and then he would be returned to the frame. There were always two guards in the dungeon chamber during these times, and it was clear (despite their complete silence) that they were there to contain him and control him - but not to be cruel.
It was baffling; not at all what Marjohn had expected. He was served with real food as well, not the gruel and water he had anticipated. It was simple fair; chunks of bread and cheese, the odd piece of fruit and a cup of ale, but very palatable. Aside from the boredom of the long hours tied up alone, and the lack of daylight, it was not a terrible punishment. The only real embarrassment was the lack of privacy. He was able to relieve himself during his 'exercise' times, but the guards were always present. In addition, he had still not been provided with any more clothes. He still had his black jerkin, but he remained noticeably naked below the waist. Every time a new guard entered the chamber for the first time, Marjohn's impressive balls were subjected to an intense stare - accompanied by looks of astonishment, amusement, and envy.
Marjohn had figured out that the guards changed at regular intervals, and his exercise breaks were carefully spaced out. Through this observation, he had managed to figure out the passing of the days, but that was all he had learned. No matter how he tried to coax them, his guards would not speak. With no way of distracting himself, Marjohn's mind focused itself unhelpfully upon what his punishment was likely to be. Each passing day was another twenty-four hours that the king had likely spent musing on the most appropriate punishment for an attempted assassination, and Marjohn was growing more and more apprehensive. The nastiest ideas for forms of torture and execution danced around his brain, and gave him nightmares. Ripped apart by horses? Hung, drawn and quartered? Stretched on the rack? So many options...
All of these ideas terrified him, but Marjohn had the suspicion that they were all incorrect. No, he remembered the look on the king's face as he fondled his Great Sword - it was a hungry look. Whatever terrors lay in store, Marjohn was certain that they would involve his manhood. Would it be castration? Or would his balls be slowly and painfully crushed until they burst? Or perhaps... No, best not to dwell on it! Marjohn tried to avoid thinking down those lines; none of the tortures that could be inflicted could be worse than being deprived of his cock and balls. They were his greatest pride and pleasure, and he would rather die than face a life without them.
His genitals were on his mind a great deal, unsurprisingly. Marjohn's enormous testicles produced an astonishing quantity of spunk, and the only way to ensure his own comfort (and ease of walking) was to empty them on a regular basis. This was no issue for the famed assassin, who always had the coin to find the pleasurable company he most desired. Marjohn's member was satisifed in a brothel every other day, ensuring that his sack would never become too heavy. But not now. Now it was the third day of his imprisonment, three days in which he had not cum once. He had been tempted to take a hand to himself a number of times, but the guards were always present while his hands were free, and he did not fancy reaching his climax in the presence of men. He was still uncomfortable remembering how the king had touched him, and even more uncomfortable to consider how aroused he had become. And this returned his thoughts, once again, to what punishment awaited him...
The king returned on the fourth day, in the evening - or so Marjohn calculated from the routine of his 'exercise' periods. The day had passed with the same boredom and frustration as the others, and after his final circuit of the cell to stretch his legs, the guards cuffed him back to the X-frame once again. Then, as always, they left him alone in the dark.
But not for long. It was impossible to gauge the passing of time in the dark, of course, but it didn't feel like long. Light flickered around the cracks of the cell door, and then it opened. The king strode into the room and placed the torch in the bracket nearest the X-frame, and then pulled a stool across from the corner of the room. He came alone, and the light of the torch just illuminated the two of them. The king placed the stool between Marjohn's outstretched legs, and sat himself down in front of his bulging sack. Without a word the king lifted a glinting razor in the air, and Marjohn yelped in alarm, imagining the time of his unmanning had arrived. "No! Wait! Don’t do it! Please !!"
The king ignored him, and brought the razor down to the taut skin of his scrotum. Instead of cutting skin, however, he began to cut the long pubic hair sprouting from it. After a few minutes of silent work, he poured some sort of oil from a flask in his robes across Marjohn's cock and balls, and began to shave closely to the skin. Marjohn was too shocked at this action to speak, and so lay helplessly while his intimate parts were tended to. He silently cursed his own traitorous cock, which, upon contact with the warmed oil, inflated to a huge, twitching erection in mere seconds. The king ignored Marjohn entirely, focusing completely upon his task. Halfway through he paused, however, and spoke briefly. "My guards have been busy the last few days, entertaining some friends of yours. If you listen carefully, you may just hear their conversation." The king stood and crosses to a grating in the wall, which he slid quietly back. A soft girlish giggle filtered into the room, and a gruff but charming voice. Marjohn strained to hear what they were saying, while the king returned to his groin and continued shaving him.
It took some time for Marjohn to make out the words that were spoken beyond the grating. For one thing, the gentle touch of the king's fingers as he rubbed oil into his balls and shaved his skin smooth was incredibly distracting. His huge penis was bouncing up and down with the heavy beating of his heart, and Marjohn found new thoughts crowding his mind. Thoughts of the king's hands deftly teasing his manhood with warm, oily fingers; the king's hands stroking up and down his hardened dick; the ecstasy of his balls pumping their four day load furiously through his excited shaft... NO! Marjohn shook his head; he was not that kind of man. He liked women ! He strained, focusing all his mind on the conversation in the other room.
Soon, the words became clear enough. Most of the talking was done by a female, in answer to questions spoken by a man. "Aye, he's got a very big appetite! Which works well for me and my girls; he's one of our best customers! Such a gentlemen, too. No one ever complains at his custom - although there's other reasons for that..." Another giggle. "Oh, but you're a very charming man, to be sure!"
The male spoke now, warm and polite, a voice of distinguished charm. "Why, thank you, my dear. I'm flattered. So, he comes to you often, does he? What does he like?"
The giggly female again, with the slight slurring and friendly manner that comes with slightly too much wine. "Hee hee, he comes to us often and cums often! Everytime! What a man... As to his likes, well, he likes to be teased, likes us to take our time - he says it makes it better, likes it slow. Very slow! Which means more money for us!"
The male sounded intrigued. "Others have mentioned... feathers? Some sort of restraints?"
The laugh that followed this should have come with a warning; it was so raunchy and suggestive that it brought a blush to Marjohn's cheeks. "Oh, you know about that? Hahaha! He is a one for his games, to be sure. Yes, sometimes we have to tie him up and tickle him with all manner of things. Gets him right excited! We don't mind, though - it's not every day you get to feather a man with melons between his thighs!" Another outburst of raucous laughter followed.
The king crossed to the grating again and closed it. Then he turned to Marjohn and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Sound familiar?" Marjohn couldn't speak. His mind raced; he knew that voice! It was one of the girls he visited; one of the regulars. What was her name? He couldn't remember, but he certainly remembered the treatment she described. What was this all about? The king interrupted his busy mind.
"She's the seventh I have had my guards interview so far. They care incredibly good at getting on with women when they want to be, you know. And men. Anyone. And for the last few days, they have played host to a number of your favourite prostitutes. With a little wine and the right words, your favourite women have poured out all of your secrets. Including every one of your preferred pleasures." The king returned to stand at the X-Frame, and began to stroke two fingers up and down the shaft of Marjohn's cock, which stabbed the air. "This is your greatest pleasure and your ultimate purpose. You are an assassin, yes, but all of your wealth is aimed at pleasing your physical instincts - and the gods have seen fit to endow you with incredibly strong desires. Truly you are the Great Sword."
The king left Marjohn's cock and stepped around the frame so that he was standing at Marjohn's head. He drew a piece of black cloth from his robe and, in the flickering light of the torch, he gagged the prone assassin's mouth. "But now your Great Sword is mine. And no doubt you know, as all the rumours say, that I like to ensure the punishment fits the criminal. Your manhood is your pride and joy, and it is also your ultimate weakness. It is what I will use to punish you for your terrible crime." He returned to sit on the stool between Marjohn's legs. With the gag in his mouth, Marjohn couldn't say a word in response, and it was too tiring to keep lifting his head to keep the king in sight. He waited, tense, dreading whatever was about to happen. Had the king gagged him to silence his screams? Would he castrate him now?
"I thought about castrating you - I've done it to others. In your case, I figured those huge testicles would just about fit in a vice. It could be closed slowly, one turn each hour, increasing the pressure on your eggs until they burst. It would be very painful, to be sure. But if I did that, your punishment would be over in a day. And I have more in store for you than that..."
The king did not stay long that night. He didn't speak again either, but spent half an hour running his fingers up and down Marjohn's calves, thighs and lower belly. The king's fingers never touched his groin (which Marjohn was not disappointed about - or so he desperately tried to convince himself). Before leaving, the king had stripped him of his shirt, leaving him entirely naked on the X-Frame. Then he removed the gag and left him for the night.
The next evening he returned. Marjohn had been expecting this, although he had not expected the king to bring two guards with him. The fifth day of his imprisonment had been no different to the previous ones, although after five days without orgasm and with the extra attention paid him by the king, Marjohn urgently needed to cum. He refused to give himself satisfaction while he was free from his restraints in the presence of the guards, however, and so his desires went unmet. He was soon going to regret that.
Upon entering, the king and one guard placed their torches in brackets on either side of the X-Frame, clearly illuminating Marjohn's helpless body. The king and the guards stopped to take in the view, and it was good one - besides the enormous balls, Marjohn's work as an assassin had required him to keep his body in peak physical condition. Each muscle was toned and sculpted; his shoulders were broad and his torso hairless and soft. The only thing out of place was his currently soft cock, lying tiny against his huge testicles.
The king gagged Marjohn once again, and then briefly gestured to his guards. "These are just a couple of the men who have been guarding you. They are also some of the ones who happily interviewed your prostitute friends. They are under orders not to speak to you, and you may have noticed that you have received a number of envious looks from their eyes. It is not because they wish to be endowed as you are - or at least, not entirely. Like myself, they also have a taste for men, and they are envious to toy with you. Today they get their wish. Shall we begin?"
Marjohn did not have time even to blink. The king nodded once, and each guard took a position at one of his sides. Immediately their fingers leapt to his ribs and began to tickle him. Marjohn screamed with surprise into his gag and nearly leapt out of his skin. The guards had nimble fingers which seemed to dance around, stroking along each rib in turn and gently darting into the soft skin between them. They moved between his sides and his chest, four hands assaulting his sensitive skin. Although muffled by the gag, Marjohn's shrieks were still noticeably louder when their fingers drew up to his armpits and began stroking around them. Each guard used one hand on an armpit, while the other traversed back and forth across his chest and belly. The king noted that tickling around his belly button produced a particularly strong response, and indicated that the guards should concentrate their second hands there.
The bound assassin was overcome. Yes, the prostitutes had tied him up and tickled him - but that was gentle and sensual, and they only tickled him for (at most) a minute at a time. This was truly torturous; his nerve endings were firing constantly under the delicious onslaught, and his vulnerability seemed to make him even more ticklish. He roared into the gag, chest heaving as he struggled for breath, losing all sense of time as they tickled him without mercy. He was aware of nothing but tickling fingers and the drumming of his heartbeat.
Yet more was occurring, and the king had the perfect view. As soon as the tickling had begun, Marjohn's penis had begun to pump itself to an erection. It was not completely hard, but lay seven inches flat across his muscled belly, bouncing as the assassin struggled against his restraints. The huge, rounded balls shook gently, and the king could not resist. Stepping between the spread legs, he reached down and cupped the heavy testicles with both hands, marvelling anew at their size and warmth. Although the young assassin was overwhelmed by the sensations inflicted by the guards, his screams seemed to leap up a notch in intensity as the king fondled him gently. His incredible manhood began to twitch and grow yet further across his belly.
"Gentlemen," spoke the king softly. Immediately the two guards stopped their assault of Marjohn's ribs, and the prisoner sucked air greedily into his lungs. The roar of his heartbeat threatened to drown out everything else, yet somehow Marjohn heard the king's gently spoken instructions.
"I think we shall begin the Great Sword's punishment officially, now. I believe three hours will do for the first day. Between the two of you, you will tickle every inch of his prone body - except for his cock and his balls. I want this tickling to be continuous and without mercy; however, you may take a two minute break after each half hour. I shall remain with you, of course, to provide a little extra stimulation, when necessary, to these most sensitive organs." The kings fingers massaged the plump testicles teasingly, and a desperate groan broke from Marjohn's throat.
"And it goes without saying, of course, that under no circumstances should he be allowed to achieve sexual satisfaction. Is that clear?" The guards nodded once, smiling, and brought their fingertips to rest again on Marjohn's belly. Whimpering softly, the assassin raised his head to stare pleading eyes at the king.
Who smiled with mock sympathy. "I thought the Great Sword feared nothing? Perhaps some of the rumours are not true after all. But don't worry... it's going to get much, much worse for you yet. Let's begin."