Theseus enters a duel for a night's stay at the local inn, only to discover that the hunter may have become the hunted.
TLDR/Summary at bottom.
The midday sun was unforgiving on Theseus's shoulders and back. The road to the next fertility house was long and grueling, he had already been traveling for three days deep into his homeland. Sweat pooled in the hollow of his throat, tracing sticky paths down his chest. Yet all he could feel was Jonas's gentle kiss on his neck, those calloused northern hands caressing his body. He caressed his neck where Jonas's lips had touched him and unconsciously smiled.
A merchant's cart rattled past, its wooden wheels kicking up dust that woke the Spartan prince from his daydream. He could see on top of the hill, the entrance to the village. He was close enough to make out the villagers. Hopefully there was room and food at the local inn to satiate his hunger. He was not in the mood for harvesting cock nor fucking women in the fertility house right now, but maybe afterwards, after he had a night's rest. He eagerly made his way down toward the village, welcoming civilization and the chance to get out of the heat.
"You there!" A rough voice growled. Theseus jerked his head up to find a man blocking his path, soot-streaked arms crossed over a leather apron. "Weapons at the town gate, Spartan. No exceptions." The blacksmith stood with the solidity of an anvil, his muscular arms gleaming with sweat and soot. His apron hung loose around his waist, revealing thighs thick as tree trunks. Beneath a threadbare loincloth, the heavy curve of his manhood was evident. A forge-scarred hand rested on the hammer looped through his belt. Theseus noted the way his beard, black as iron filings, clung to his jawline in oiled ringlets.
"Your blade," the blacksmith rumbled, extending a palm calloused from decades at the bellows. Theseus hesitated for a second and smirked. Theseus thought he saw the man's cock twitch beneath the leather apron when their fingers brushed during the handoff. He wasn't anxious to relinquish his sword, his true weapon was his heritage and the monster between his legs. A group of villagers paused their chores to watch. His grip tightened on the confiscated blade. "If you are here for the fertility house, it won't open till sundown," he growled. His voice, though rough, was not menacing.
"The inn will do," he said, rolling his shoulders until the sun caught the sweat-slicked planes of his chest. "Preferably with a bath." The blacksmith jerked his chin toward a timber-framed building squatting at the village square, its eaves carved with interlacing serpents. "Thorkell’s place. Best ale this side of the mountains." His apron shifted as he turned, revealing a thick thigh marred by old battle scars. "I’ll take you."
Theseus fell into step beside him, noting how the man’s stride adjusted to his own and close enough that their elbows occasionally brushed. The blacksmith smelled of iron and coal, his bare arms gleaming with a sheen of soot and sweat that darkened the coiled hair on his forearms.
Theseus felt the telltale tightening beneath his gladiator skirt as his gaze traced the unmistakable outline pressing against the blacksmith's leather apron. The man's stride shifted slightly—not enough to be obvious, but sufficient that each step made the heavy curve sway hypnotically against the worn material. Theseus clenched his jaw, willing his treacherous cock to settle even as it thickened against his thigh with every heartbeat.
The blacksmith paused at the inn's threshold, turning just enough that torchlight caught the damp spot blooming on his apron's underside. "Thorkell should be at the desk." And without another word, he turned and left, presumably back to the forge or the town gate. Theseus entered quietly, almost cautiously.
The inn smelled of cured oak and juniper smoke, its rafters blackened by generations of hearth fires. Theseus's bare feet sank into fresh rushes strewn across the flagstones, the lavender and thyme crushed beneath his weight releasing bursts of herb-scented air. Iron lanterns hung from chains, their flickering light catching on carved serpentine patterns that coiled around every wooden beam.
A massive central hearth dominated the common room, its stone mantel carved with intertwined warriors locked in eternal battle, their stone limbs frozen mid-struggle and muscles straining beneath moss-stippled marble skin. Long trestle tables radiated outward, their surfaces worn smooth by countless tankards and trenchers. At the far end was a staircase that spiraled upward beside a counter lined with barrels with polished brass taps.
"Outlander." The deep voice came from behind him. Theseus turned to find a large man perched on a stool behind the counter.
Thorkell's hands stilled on the ale tap as he sized up the Spartan warrior. His forearms were corded with lean muscle from years of hauling casks, glistening with a fine sheen of sweat in the hearthlight. Where the blacksmith had been built like a siege engine, Thorkell moved with the compact efficiency of a well-balanced dagger. His beard, cropped close to the jawline, accentuated the sharp planes of his face. Coal-black hair fell in oiled waves just past his shoulders, tied back with a simple leather thong that left a single strand curling rebelliously at his temple.
Theseus noted how the innkeeper's linen tunic stretched tight across shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist. The fabric rode up slightly as he reached for a tankard, revealing a strip of sun-darkened skin above his belt. Brown eyes, warm as aged mead, flicked over Theseus's frame with an appraisal that lingered just a heartbeat too long on the bulge straining against his gladiator's skirt.
"Your room is number ten. It’s at the end of the hall and on your left," Thorkell said, his voice roughened by smoke and spirits. He slid a brass key across the counter, its teeth worn smooth by generations of travelers. The movement made his biceps flex beneath rolled-up sleeves, the veins standing proud along arms that knew hard labor.
Theseus reached for his coin purse, fingers brushing against the worn leather only to find it lighter than expected. He upended it onto the counter, watching as a pitiful handful of coppers tumbled out beside a single silver drachma. Thorkell's eyebrows lifted slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching in something between amusement and appraisal. "Short?" The innkeeper's voice was surprisingly gentle as he leaned forward, forearms resting on the polished oak. Firelight caught the dusting of dark hair along his muscular wrists. "By about a nights's stay," Theseus admitted, rolling a copper between his fingers. The metal was warm from riding against his thigh all day.
Thorkell's calloused fingers tapped the counter thoughtfully, his gaze drifting to the hearth where flames licked at a blackened cauldron. "Coin isn't the only currency here, Spartan," he murmured, tracing a knot in the wood with his thumbnail. "There's another way you could earn your keep." His teeth flashed white against his beard when he grinned. "A wrestling match while bare as the day you were born. No holds barred. You win, you get the room. I win..." He grinned as his palm slapped the counter hard enough to make tankards rattle. "You serve my tables for a week."
Theseus felt the challenge settle between his shoulders like a familiar weight. The innkeeper's thighs spread slightly as he leaned forward, an unconscious display of dominance that made the linen tighten across his groin. Theseus's nostrils flared at the scent of woodsmoke and male sweat clinging to the man. "Subdue and pin you?" He rolled his neck until the vertebrae cracked. "Easiest night's work I'll ever do," Theseus said haughtily.
The common room was cleared by the innkeeper's servant faster than Theseus expected. He realized then that this wasn't the first time Thorkell made this particular wager. Benches scraped against flagstones as guests of the inn formed a wide circle near the hearth, their whispers rising in curiosity and excitement. Thorkell wasted no time as his belt hit the floor with a thud, followed by the rustle of linen sliding down corded thighs. Theseus watched the way firelight played across the innkeeper's body as he straightened: shoulders broad as an ox yoke, a thatch of dark hair between pectorals that flexed with each breath, and below... Theseus's mouth went dry. Thorkell's cock hung heavy even at half-mast, the foreskin wrinkled like a sleeping serpent above a sack that swayed with his movements.
It was thick as a man's wrist and darker than the rest of his sun-bronzed skin, the foreskin draping over the flared head like a hooded viper. Veins stood proud along its length, pulsing visibly even in the flickering hearthlight. When the innkeeper shifted his weight, his balls swung heavily beneath, the left slightly larger than the right, nestled in the innkeeper's wrinkled sack. A single bead of moisture glistened at the slit, catching firelight as it swelled before falling to the flagstones with an almost audible plink.
Theseus's throat went dry. His own cock twitched traitorously against his thigh, responding to the primal display despite the impending match. Thorkell's grin widened as he followed the Spartan's gaze downward, giving his hips an almost imperceptible roll that made his heavy cock sway hypnotically. The movement sent another pearl of precum rolling down his shaft before dripping onto the stone between his feet.
"You like what you see, Spartan?" Thorkell purred, running a calloused palm up his own thigh, slow enough that Theseus could track every tendon flexing beneath tanned skin. His thumb brushed the base of his cock, making the thick vein along the underside jump. "Plenty more where that came from... if you can take it."
Theseus grinned right before he lunged like a lion, his bare foot snapping forward in a kick aimed straight for Thorkell's groin. The innkeeper twisted sideways with surprising speed, but Theseus pivoted mid-motion, his swinging elbow catching Thorkell's ribs with a meaty thud that sent the larger man staggering back.
Firelight glinted off Thorkell's bared teeth as he recovered, his breath coming in sharp bursts through flared nostrils. Theseus didn't give him time to regroup. He feinted left, then dropped low to sweep Thorkell's legs. The innkeeper jumped clear, but Theseus's follow-up grapple caught him around the thighs, their sweat-slicked bodies colliding with enough force to make the onlookers gasp.
Thorkell's cock slapped wetly against Theseus's abdomen as they struggled, the heated flesh leaving a glistening trail across the Spartan's hipbone. Theseus used the distraction to his advantage, his knee driving upward between Thorkell's spread legs, not quite connecting with the swinging sack but close enough to make the innkeeper snarl. Thorkell retaliated by clamping a forearm across Theseus's windpipe, his other hand seizing the Spartan's wrist in a grip that would've shattered lesser men's bones.
Theseus strained against Thorkell's chokehold, his vision darkening at the edges. But it wasn't the lack of air that unsettled him.
The innkeeper's endurance defied all logic. Given Theseus's demigod strength, most men would've crumpled by now. Yet Thorkell remained steadfast, his composure cool and collected.
Firelight caught the sweat sheening Thorkell's throat as he tightened his forearm, pressing just enough to make Theseus's pulse hammer against the pressure. "Surprised, Spartan?" he rasped, his breath hot against Theseus's ear. The innkeeper's hips rolled forward instinctively, his still-hard cock dragging a wet stripe across Theseus's abdomen. "I am no ordinary man."
Theseus bucked violently, twisting his hips to break contact but only for Thorkell to counter by clamping a thick thigh over his waist. Theseus's breath hitched as Thorkell's calloused fingers slid between their sweat-slicked bodies, finding his trapped cock with terrifying precision. The innkeeper's grip was iron, hot and rough from years of hauling ale casks, as he dragged his palm up Theseus's shaft in one brutal stroke. Precum smeared across the Spartan's abdomen in glistening arcs as Thorkell worked him with single-minded focus, his thumb rasping over the flared head with each upward twist.
"Fight it all you want," Thorkell growled against Theseus's ear, his teeth grazing the shell. The innkeeper's other hand pinned the Spartan's wrist above his head, grinding the bones against flagstones still warm from the hearth. "Your body's more honest than your words."
Theseus arched off the ground with a strangled cry as Thorkell's fingers suddenly dipped lower, cupping his balls with crushing pressure. The innkeeper's palm was furnace-hot against his tightening sack, fingers kneading the sensitive orbs with the same practiced rhythm he'd use to test ripe fruit at market. Firelight caught the thick vein throbbing along Theseus's shaft as Thorkell alternated between vicious strokes and agonizing pauses, leaving him trembling on the edge before denying release with cruel precision.
Theseus's muscles bunched like coiled springs as he twisted his hips violently, leveraging every ounce of demigod strength against Thorkell's grip. His heels dug into the flagstones hard enough to send sparks skittering across the floor as he wrenched his pinned wrist free. The sudden movement caught Thorkell off-balance, just enough for Theseus to drive a knee upward into the innkeeper's ribs with a satisfying crack.
Thorkell staggered back, his grip loosening momentarily. Theseus surged forward like a storm breaking, his cock swinging obscenely between his thighs, still fully erect despite the brutal wrestling. The flushed head glistened with precum, the slit parted slightly as another thick bead welled up and dripped down the veined underside. His foreskin had retracted completely now, leaving the swollen crown exposed and throbbing with each frantic heartbeat. The Spartan's balls tightened against his body, the heavy orbs drawn up high and tight with adrenaline and arousal, their wrinkled surface glistening with sweat in the firelight. Theseus's breath was heavy, sweat dampening his thick chestnut hair, his eyebrows furrowed, and his hazel eyes narrowed.
Thorkell's nostrils flared as he watched the silver strand of precum stretch from Theseus's tip to his abdomen before snapping, leaving a glistening trail across the Spartan's hipbone. "Gods above," the innkeeper breathed. His own cock twitched in response, bouncing heavily against his thigh as he regained his footing.
Before Theseus could fully recover, Thorkell lunged with the suddenness of a striking viper, his bare foot snapping forward in a brutal arc that connected squarely with Theseus's unprotected groin. The impact sounded like a war drum muffled under water, a sickening SMACK!! that flattened the Spartan's testicles against his pelvis before rebounding with agonizing elasticity. Theseus's counterpunch faltered mid-swing as his body instinctively curled around the trauma, his knuckles grazing uselessly past Thorkell's beard.
The innkeeper wasn’t done. His fist hammered downward like a blacksmith's mallet, catching Theseus's dangling right testicle in mid-swing. The orb deformed under the blow, stretching sideways like overworked dough before snapping back into shape with a wet slap against the Spartan's inner thigh. Theseus screamed as the nerve signals overloaded his senses.
Thorkell sent a vicious upward thrust of the knee that smashed Theseus’s tender tadpole factories against his pubic bone with enough force to lift him momentarily off the flagstones.
SSSMAACCCKKKKK!!!!!
His left testicle ballooned under pressure, the rubbery surface distending grotesquely before springing back with a shudder that made his stomach lurch. Precum sprayed uncontrollably in wide arcs as his muscles spasmed. Drops of opaque, slick nectar coated the stone floors of the inn as the crowd gasped as the spectacle.
Thorkell's assault intensified and became a symphony of calculated brutality, each impact sent waves of agony radiating through Theseus's groin but failed to rupture the delicate membranes.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
The innkeeper's fists pummeled the Spartan prince's balls, striking with enough force to indent each bollock before rebounding. Theseus felt his gonad throbbing, the outer testicular membrane stretching thin as parchment before snapping back into shape, leaving the sensitive orbs throbbing violently.
Another knee drove upward into Theseus's dangling sack, lifting him momentarily off the ground as his testicles compressed against his pubic bone. The left one ballooned grotesquely under pressure, its surface mottling with strained veins before rebounding with a shudder that sent nauseating tremors through his gut.
But despite multiple attempts, the Theseus remained standing, weathering the blows. The innkeeper was bewildered as most men wouldn't be able to weather a tenth of the assaults and remain standing.
Thorkell knew that he had to switch tactics if he was to win. His calloused fingers seized Theseus's testicles in a vise grip, squeezing the plums as if he were trying to extract all the juices. Thorkell could feel his thumb digging deep into the epididymal coil of the right gonad while his fingers closed, warping the bollocks as the outer membrane bulged out between his monstrous fingers. Theseus could feel his seminiferous tubules threatening to unravel and his sperm disintegrating into microscopic debris.
The innkeeper twisted and pull, watching with fascination as the spermatic cord coiled tighter. He hadn't planned on castrating his guest but in this case, he might make an exception. He wanted to prove to everyone in the room that no manhood was safe from his wrath, not even a Spartan prince’s.
Thorkell's grin widened as he felt Theseus's muscles finally slackening beneath his grip, his victory imminent. His fingers dug deeper into the Spartan's warped testicles, twisting the tortured organs in opposite directions until the stretched cords quivered like overtuned harp strings. "Yield," the innkeeper growled, breath hot against Theseus's sweat-slicked neck. "No need to lose your precious family jewels for a week's worth of labor."
Theseus grinned.
Before Thorkell could respond, the Spartan prince launched his forehead into Thorkell's nose.
CRRAACCKKK!!!
Cartilage cracked as the innkeeper recoiled, his grip loosening just enough for Theseus to wrench his hips sideways. Thorkell's fingernails left thin red crescents along Theseus's ball sack as his grip faltered but the trauma was not enough to tear the sack open. The Spartan used that momentary weakness, twisting his hips violently to break contact while driving a knee upward into Thorkell's exposed groin. The impact landed with wet precision.
SMACK!
The innkeeper’s scream startled his guests as his left testicle flattened momentarily against his pelvis before rebounding with a sickening jiggle.
Theseus didn't wait for recovery. His palm slapped against Thorkell's sweaty sternum, shoving him backward onto the flagstones just as his other hand seized the innkeeper's ballsack in a crushing grip. Firelight caught the way Thorkell's scrotum stretched like overworked leather between Theseus's fingers, the skin blanching white around pressure points before flushing angry red. A thick vein pulsed visibly along the underside as Theseus tightened his hold incrementally—not enough to rupture, but sufficient to make Thorkell's breath hitch.
"I must admit, you're a much fiercer warrior than I expected," Theseus growled, rolling his thumb across the trapped left testicle with deliberate pressure. He felt the epididymal coil deform beneath his touch, the sensitive tubing kinking under manipulation. Thorkell's hips jerked involuntarily, his cock slapping wetly against his own abdomen as precum dripped freely from the slit.
Thorkell's laughter rumbled through the hall like distant thunder, his grin widening to show teeth capable of cracking walnuts. "I told you, Spartan…” in an instant, the innkeeper's powerful hand found its way to Theseus's manhood again. His calloused fingers flexed around Theseus's ballsack with the same practiced grip he'd use to test a keg's tap, kneading the swollen orbs until they shifted like quicksilver beneath the skin. "No mere innkeeper keeps his hand this steady after six tankards."
Theseus's nostrils flared as he countered by twisting Thorkell's scrotum in a vicious half-turn, making the innkeeper's left testicle bulge obscenely against the stretched membrane. The crowd gasped as Thorkell's cock jerked violently, spraying a hot arc of precum across the Spartan's thigh yet his grip didn't falter. Instead, he retaliated by driving his thumb deep into the junction where Theseus's right testicle met the cord, probing the epididymal coil with cruel precision.
The stalemate became a grotesque dance of shifting pressures—Thorkell alternating between squeezing the Spartan's balls flat and rolling them like dice between his palms, while Theseus countered by pinching segments of the innkeeper's spermatic cord between his knuckles, each compression drawing a grunt from the larger man. Their foreheads pressed together, sweat mingling as their breathing synchronized. Their inhalations were ragged whenever a crushing grip loosened momentarily and broken by shuddering exhales as fresh torment was applied. Though they appeared evenly matched, Thorkell knew deep in his gut that the Spartan would be victorious. However just as the innkeeper was about to declare defeat, he noticed Theseus's engorged phallus pulsating with need.
The realization struck Theseus like a lightning bolt. His cock was achingly hard despite the brutal grapple, and worse, he wanted to kneel. His tongue ached to taste the salt and sweetness dripping from Thorkell's swollen head. His lips parted involuntarily as another fat pearl of precum rolled down the innkeeper's shaft, catching firelight like amber.
Thorkell's grin turned feral as he caught the flicker of hunger in Theseus's eyes. He shifted his grip, twisting until the Spartan's balls pressed hot against his palm. "Something you want, princeling?" His thumb rasped over Theseus's slit, smearing the gathered wetness in slow circles. The innkeeper's voice dropped to a growl that vibrated through both their sweat-slicked chests. "Something else I have to offer?"
Theseus snarled, but his hips jerked forward into the tormenting touch. Every instinct screamed to conquer, yet his body betrayed him as his cock pulsed violently against Thorkell's thigh, his precum soaking the coarse hair there. Thorkell knew that he will likely lose the battle of attrition but he might yet win the war. Thorkell's fingers uncurled from Theseus's ballsack with deliberate slowness, each calloused knuckle dragging against the Spartan's sweat-slicked scrotum in a final, taunting caress.
Theseus's fingers twitched around Thorkell's swollen sac, his fingertips pressing into the yielding flesh as a sculptor would testing clay. He could feel the innkeeper's pulse hammering through the delicate membranes. He could envision exactly how those taut spheres would collapse under increasing pressure, bursting like overripe fruit between his knuckles. The image burned behind his eyelids: skin splitting along stretched seams, viscous seed erupting in glutinous strands between his fingers, Thorkell's roar of agony reverberating through the hall.
His grip tightened incrementally, watching with dark fascination as Thorkell's left testicle deformed beneath his thumb, the rubbery surface dimpling inward before rebounding when he eased the pressure. A single bead of sweat traced the crease between Theseus's brow as he contemplated the fragility in his palm. All that virility reduced to leaking pulp with one decisive squeeze.
Instead, he exhaled sharply through his nose and released his hold, letting Thorkell's heavy sac slap wetly against the flagstones. The innkeeper barely had time to register the reprieve before Theseus dropped to his knees, his calloused palms sliding up Thorkell's hairy thighs with deliberate friction. Firelight caught the glistening strand of precum connecting Theseus's lower lip to the swollen cockhead bobbing before him, a slight tremble with each ragged breath.
Theseus's tongue pressed flat against the underside of Thorkell's shaft, tasting salt and musk as he dragged upwards and downwards with deliberate slowness. The innkeeper's cock pulsed against his lips, sturdy as oak and just as unyielding. Precum beaded at the slit, glazing Theseus's lower lip with its briny tang before his tongue flicked out to collect it. Thorkell's thighs trembled against his temples, his scent of woodsmoke and aged mead flooding Theseus's nostrils.
"Gods above," Thorkell rasped, fingers knotting in Theseus's sweat-damp curls. His hips jerked forward instinctively, driving another inch of thick flesh between the Spartan's lips. "Your mouth was made for this, Spartan."
Theseus hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard as he worked his tongue along the veined ridge beneath the crown. Thorkell's balls tightened against his chin, the heavy sac drawing up as the innkeeper's breath hitched. Theseus could feel the sudden rigidity preceding release and doubled his efforts. His left hand slid between Thorkell's thighs, calloused fingers cradling the innkeeper's swollen scrotum with just enough pressure to make the man groan.
Suddenly, Thorkell's hips jerked forward with a strangled growl, his cockhead pulsing violently against the roof of Theseus's mouth as the first spurt hit. Hot, viscous seed flooded the Spartan's mouth. The taste was overwhelming. Brine and iron beneath the cloying sweetness, with an earthy musk that clung to his palate like aged wine. Theseus swallowed instinctively, his tongue working the swollen slit to coax out every last drop while Thorkell's thighs trembled against his temples. Rope after rope of precious seed spilled down his gullet until only a dribble remained.
When it finally ended, they collapsed in a tangled heap with Theseus coughing up stray strands of seed that clung to his lips, Thorkell panting like a spent stag. The Spartan rolled onto his back, his own cock still achingly hard against his thigh, glistening with neglected precum. For a long moment, there was only the sound of their labored breathing and the crackle of the hearth.
The first laugh came from Thorkell; a deep, rolling sound that started in his belly and erupted like ale foam from a tapped barrel. It caught Theseus off guard, his spent muscles twitching as the sound reverberated through his sweat-slicked chest. Then the Spartan was laughing too, sharp and breathless, his fingers still tangled in the innkeeper's thigh hair where they'd clutched during release.
Around them, the tavern erupted. Tankards slammed on tabletops as men roared approval, their faces flushed from firelight and secondhand arousal. Someone threw a sausage that bounced off Thorkell's shoulder, leaving a greasy smear. "Next round's on the house!" the innkeeper wheezed, wiping seed from his beard with the back of a trembling hand. Theseus barely registered the cheer that followed as his vision still swam with the aftershocks of exertion, every nerve singing like a plucked bowstring.
Thorkell's calloused palm smacked against Theseus's thigh, the sting blooming warm through the haze. "Spartan," he gasped, still shaking with laughter, "you suck cock like you fight…” Another bark of mirth cut him off as he gestured vaguely at the puddle of mingled fluids glistening between them.
Thorkell's laughter subsided into ragged breaths as he wiped his mouth with the back of a meaty hand. "Stay the night at the inn but go to the fertility house first," he rumbled, nudging Theseus's shoulder with a knee that still trembled slightly. "I'm the town's Breedmaster and I know the fertility house has warm beds and warmer women. They'll extract every last bit of seed in ya." His fingers dabbled at the precum leaking from Theseus's slit. Theseus spat onto the straw-strewn floor. "You offer hospitality after trying to pop my balls like overripe grapes?" His voice was hoarse, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
"Aye, and you'll take it." Thorkell heaved himself upright with a grunt, his spent cock glistening in the firelight as it softened against his thigh. He tapped the bronze torc around his neck, a twisted serpent swallowing its own tail. "It's the Breedmaster's duty to keep the bloodlines of the women in the fertility house strong. But you’ve robbed me of my seed for the day and I need to recover." His grin widened as he jerked his chin toward the back of the tavern where a heavy oak door stood slightly ajar, the scent of rose oil and sweat curling through the gap. "Someone's got to service the women before sunrise and I know your fat balls are teeming with seed."
The Spartan demigod hoisted himself onto his feet. His cock already twitching with anticipation against his thigh. His heavy balls swaying between his legs, swollen with the divine potency. He looked at the sweaty, spent innkeeper in the eye.
"And I'm the man for the task," Theseus grinned.
TLDR: After a long journey, Theseus arrives in a strange town and is forced to surrender his weapons before seeking shelter at the local inn. When he discovers he is short on coin, the innkeeper Thorkell offers him an unusual wager: defeat him in a no-rules wrestling match and earn a room for the night, or lose and spend the week doing the inn’s dishes.
Confident in his abilities, Theseus accepts, only to discover that Thorkell is far stronger than expected. Theseus’s groin is pummeled relentlessly to the point of near castration. However musters up his strength and returns the punishment.
On the brink of defeat, Thorkell changes his strategy and seduces Theseus, in hopes of incapacitating him. Though Theseus takes the bait, he gives Thorkell a blow job that was so incredible that Thorkell collapses in exhaustion, ending the fight
After a brutal struggle, Thorkell then reveals a surprising secret: he is the town’s Breedmaster. Impressed by Theseus and recognizing his potential, Thorkell offers him the opportunity to fertilize the women tonight in his stead, to which Theseus happily accepts.
