Me (1-9)

And so it began!

Under Agnes’s watchful eyes, five pairs of hands began the test.

I gritted my teeth, every muscle in my body locking tight as I desperately fought to hold back the tide that quickly started to rise. The heavy Stonetalon ale had thoroughly clouded my judgment, amplifying the raw, throbbing ache between my thighs until every second of restraint felt like pure agony. Around me, the brawny dwarves stood like solid stone - seasoned, hardened, and completely unbothered by the heavy drink - while my own royal discipline rapidly dissolved in the sweltering heat of the chamber.

“Look at the lad, he’s shaking like a leaf in a gale!”, one of the dwarves bellowed, pointing a thick finger at me with a booming laugh.
“Aye, royal blood can’t handle a proper dwarven forge!”, another grunted, leaning in close to jeer. “Hold it in, your highness, or you’ll be drinking our brew before the night is out!”

The rhythmic chanting of the dwarves grew louder, vibrating through the floorboards and deep into my chest. Every time my eyes flicked toward the head of the table, meeting Agnes’s flushed, expectant gaze, my pulse hammered wildly against my ribs, pushing me closer and closer to the absolute brink.

Leaning forward over the table, Agnes locked her eyes onto mine, a warm, fiercely encouraging smile breaking across her flushed face.

“You can do it, my prince!” she called out over the boisterous roaring, her voice filled with absolute faith. “Show them what royalty is made of! I know you can hold out longer than any of them!”

Hearing her cheer for me, hearing the absolute belief in her voice, sent a devastating surge of adrenaline straight to my core. It was meant to steady me, but the sheer thrill of her support shattered what little resolve I had left. Sweat rolled down my brow as the internal pressure reached a fever pitch. The strain became entirely unbearable; with a sharp, helpless gasp, my control fractured down the middle, and I became the first to falter, filling the central mug to the triumphant, deafening cheers of the room.

One by one, the dwarves contributed until the mug was semi-full of thick, white seed.