Every generation looks to the past. Sometimes, it is a look back as far as childhood; when life was simple and others made decisions for you. Elders made sure your needs were met. Still others look back to what seemed to be a Golden Age, when all seemed right with the world.
A wise lady summed it up by saying, “People knew their place and they stayed in it.”
This story is from so far into the past that no one has any recollection of it. Sometimes, this age will intrude into a man’s dream. He will awake feeling somewhat diminished, with a feeling something is out of kilter.
Half awake, half asleep, he thinks, “This is not the way it was long ago, but it is the way it is now.”
A woman will, after one of these intrusions, awaken with an overwhelming sense of power and strength. All through the following day, she thinks, “I am moving about my day with the grace and sense of majesty. My sex is what rules this empire.”
The past we visit in this story is quite different from what thousands of years of civilization taught us. In this past, haunting age, women held the positions of leadership and respect as priestess. They commanded armies of strong men who were devoted to their female captains. Women taught the scholars, male and female. Women were the bearers of life. The power to bring life from within herself made every woman a goddess. Men stood in awe outside the red tents as they listened to the cries of childbirth and understood that women were not to be trifled with. They realized that women were braver than any solider on the field of battle, and stronger too. Perhaps superior not in the ability to carry huge sacks of grain, but in the ability to withstand continuous pain for hours, if not days, on end until life is brought forth. Or bravely die in the attempt.
Women summarized their position by claiming, “We are more calculating, better able to see all sides of a conflict or situation. We remain cool, never falling into the red rages that men so often experience. When a tribesman impinged a man’s honor or slights them, they lose the power of reason. We women wisely pick our battles, knowing when and how much to gamble for new pastures or more gold.”
Women chose their life-mates according to their stations in life. The queen, for I will use that title to designate the woman leading the clan, would have her pick from among the finest soldiers and scholars. However, in every third generation, the queen remains unwed. Instead, each year she sent her armies out with very explicit instructions.
Wise women long before noted that if the clan continually intermarried with no outsiders permitted, the quality of succeeding generations became weak, frail, and mentally diminished. It was decreed that every third generation queen would seek out partners from afar. Fresh men that would provide new blood, with new traits and abilities. She would instruct her generals as to what sort of man to bring her. One year she may ask for a man who showed great skill at arms. The next year, she might request a man reputed to be a brilliant scholar. Or one who could read the stars. Sometimes the request would be as simple as blue eyes or red hair!
The children from these royal unions would then provide the fresh blood as they matured and married into the clan.
The queen of which I write knew she was nearing the time when it would no longer be wise for her to risk another pregnancy. She had borne several children but not every new coupling brought forth a child. After spending a year with her chosen one, child or not, the man was sent to the women of the village to become someone’s lover. This way insured diverse blood in the clan.
She had just sent her latest year-long lover to the village. He was sweet and knew the ways to please his queen, but no child had come. Even with their nearly daily lovemaking, no pregnancy ensued.
The queen feared this showed her child bearing days were over. But, in any event, she gathered her generals to discuss what she desired in her next consort.
She listened as each woman opined on what the clan needed. Better soldiers, wiser scholars, more knowledgeable astrologers. The queen listened but she also listened to her heart. This may well be her last lover. If no child came from this coming union, she would step down and join the ranks of the crones, the wise women that counseled the queens. A new queen would be chosen soon after she lay down her staff. That was the way of it.
So, she sent the generals out on a search for … a beautiful man with the largest male member. If this was her last year to lay with a man, she wanted raw sex. No more worry about offspring from this union. She wanted this consort to make her scream as his sperm-spurting long member reached her cervix, perhaps fertilizing her womb one last time.
From village to village the generals traveled. At each stop the local chiefs were informed of the queen’s desire. Elders were accustomed to these searches, but this time they were nonplussed by the, (they thought) unseemliness of her request. Chiefs consulted with the women of their village. They were embarrassed to ask which man had the biggest cock. The women chuckled, yet they knew which young man to nominate. Each hamlet would send a fellow to be examined. At some stops, the men just lined up, stripped and enjoyed displaying their wares. Town voyeurs were delighted as well at the spectacle. Sometimes, the men had to be ordered to strip. Contestants eager for the prize would stand to be eyed and sometimes handled, by the generals and their assistants.
It was at one of this sort of displays that with one voice the women cried, “He is the one!” And certainly this young man did possess a prodigious cock. The balls were equally large and appeared full of seed.
“How old are you?” one general asked.
“Twenty, your ladyship,” he replied.
“Have you lain with a woman?”
He blushed. “Only once, last solstice,” he answered.
At that one of the village women spoke up. “Oh that’s Gwion. He’s always reading and watching the stars. He knows nothing of fucking!”
The gathered villagers laughed and affirmed that this man was indeed a scholar.
They whispered, “Scholar? Yes. Lover? No.”
Nevertheless, the generals agreed, “We’ve done our duty. Let’s go home.”
The expedition’s leader told him, “Gather your belongings and say your goodbyes.”
They had been on the road for weeks and were anxious to return home. Before they left however, they took all his clothes except his boots and a warn cloak.
The ranking general came forward with a velvet box. She opened it to reveal a glittering mass of twisted, woven gold. This was attached to a silken rope that she tied around his waist. Carefully she fitted the golden sack, for that was what it was, around his heavy balls and over his growing member. She pulled it snug and his erection immediately shrank.
“There,” she said. “That should keep you nice and secure!”
With a laugh, she mounted her horse. Two soldiers lifted Gwion, our well-endowed hero, into the saddle. For there was no way he could mount the horse by himself with the golden cage holding his jewels. Fortunately, someone had thought to place a soft pillow under his genitals so that he wasn’t chaffed by the mesh.
You may be surprised to know that our hero, Gwion, was not at all afraid. He knew where he was going and what awaited him there. He also knew that when his year of service was over, he would be treated well. Others who had been selected over the years returned to tell of their lives as coddled playthings or respected soldiers. Some were allowed to continue their studies. His predecessors seemed happy enough, so Gwion wasn’t worried about his future.
Except for one thing. The girl he was with at the last solstice had shrieked when she saw him naked in the glen that morning.
She shrieked, “There was no way I am going to fuck that monster!” Yet the laws of solstice required that she complete the act with the man assigned to her. The wellbeing of the village depended on each doing his and her parts! So she lay herself down, gritted her teeth and surrendered to his rampant penis. He tried to go slowly and carefully, only sliding a bit of himself in at a time into her tight cunt.
“Oh come on! Stuff it in already! I don’t want to be here all day!” she cried. So he did.
Her scream startled the whole crowd of solstice revelers as he hit bottom with several inches of cock still outside her cunt. But that was enough. He came with such force, his paramour swore she could taste it in the back of her throat!
Quickly he pulled out, wiped himself off and donned his clothes. Off he ran to lose himself in the crowd.
Soon, his solstice-mate’s belly made it apparent that at least one ritual joining had been fruitful!
So now he was on his way to a year of pleasuring the queen. How would she react to his size? Would she take one look at him and send him back? But the thought of servicing the beautiful woman had stirred his loins and now his erection was straining the golden sack. Just when he thought he would come, someone rode by and threw a cup of water at his crotch.
“Save it, man! You’re going to need every drop!”
It was a journey of several days from his village to the capitol. In the evenings around the fire, old soldiers told ribald stories. It seemed they did this mostly to see young Gwion squirm as his golden bindings grew tight when the stories fired his imagination. On two memorable late nights, after all were asleep, young lieutenants came to where he lay. They would lie next to him, rubbing themselves against him and toying with his gold cage. His moans were so loud that the young women shushed him and hurried away before being caught playing with the queen’s new consort.
At last they were at the door to the court. Word of their arrival had spread and a crowd had gathered to see this, the latest lover. Although it was supposed to be confidential, the nature of the queen’s request had been whispered about and everyone wanted a look at the man brought back. Would they get to see his winning attributes? How big could he be? Would the queen be pleased? Or disappointed?
