Faire Play

"Hey, honey, are you ready yet? It's almost 10:00 and I don't want to miss the first joust." I was studying to be one of the riders and I wanted to get all the tips I could.

"Just a bit more 'minor' adjusting. Could you come in and help?" I returned to the bedroom to find Lyndi reopening her heavy costume and struggling with her corset. The damn thing looked like it was eating her! I took the strings (ropes?) and almost had to put my foot on her chest to draw them tighter.

"This thing is just too small, honey. They must have given you the wrong size."

"No, they didn't. I'm just getting a little fatter than when I ordered the outfit! Why can't I keep my weight down anymore? All the pretty girls at the faire will get the attention I deserve!"

"Come on, Lyndi, you look great, even if the costume isn't the right size. And, I'll need to fight off the others just to keep them away from you! There isn't a man alive that would pass up a chance to play with your tight butt, fondle your shapely legs, finger your..."

"That's enough, Romeo! The fantasies are my stories to tell you!" she laughed. "You stick to listening and I'll stick to making them up!"

And, 'making them up' she did. She spends a few minutes before any time we're in bed telling me the most fantastic and erotic stories. At first, she was worried I'd think she had actually done the things she fantasized. I assured her that she had 'complete immunity'; that is, anything she said was never to be used against her in any way. I would not have given her any grief even if they were all true because I loved the stories and I secretly pictured them as true, anyway! I couldn't begin to tell her how much of a turn-on it was!

Corset finally cooperating, we left for the yearly renaissance faire on a morning promising much more heat later. There was little traffic and the air conditioner was cranked and pumping, but the heavy period costumes had us getting warmer by the minute. Soon, they were almost maddening as the traffic slowed and the heat grew. We were both considering turning back when we looked into the car next to us and noticed the four teenage boys furiously motioning to roll down the window. Lyndi looked confused but complied to their delight.

"Ooooo, baby-baby! You're lookin' good!" one of them yelled.

"How about you riding to the faire with us?" from another.

"How 'bout us riding you to the faire?!?" from a third.

I'm used to Lyndi causing this kind of reaction and I always get a kick out of it. She played it up (and ate it up!) like a champ: she offered mild insults and come-ons, displayed her ample cleavage, and blew kisses as we pulled away. Despite the heat and the sticky, hot costumes, we were both cheered up and got to the faire in good humor.

The 'forest' where the faire is located is very pretty. The trees are old oaks, birch, and maples, so densely clustered it actually does seem to be deep in a forest and hundreds of years ago. There are thick bushes everywhere. Most of the people here are dressed in period attire and we blend into the setting without pause, drifting with the flow of the crowds.

"Well, my lady, what does your heart desire?" I pretty much suck at speech 'in period' but nobody seems to care. Lyndi doesn't even try. Smart woman.

"Let's go see the jousting and make sure you learn how to keep your chest attached to your fine ass, and, in those tights, your fine ass is rather pronounced!" she said. (I couldn't see my butt in the mirror at home but the people at the shop assured me that I looked the way I should. Did they mean 'with a pronounced ass'?)

"My ass is yours to do with as you wish but your suggestion is appreciated and will be taken to (my breastplated) heart." I quipped badly.

The jousting was great and I was smart enough to realize this 40+ year-old body would not survive it. I was about to say that when Lyndi grabbed my arm and pulled my head close to her.

"Let's go somewhere else, please." I was stunned by the intensity of her voice, the expression on her face. But, I put an arm around her and immediately led her through the crowd and into a relatively quiet area. I waited for her to start and, in a moment she did:

"I want immunity." This is the way we always ask for non-judgemental permission to speak freely.

"All right, you've got immunity," I said sincerely.

"I just saw a 'fantasy'. There are some people here, some...guys, I met a while before I met you. We...,ah,...did some things and I never saw them again - until a few minutes ago. Remember the story about Jaime and me? That story was true."

I thought about it for a minute to recall the entire story. It was one of my favorites but I couldn't see a problem. She correctly interpreted the frown on my face as confusion.

"Honey, I was 'Jaime'". I wasn't surprised; I was dumbfounded! Lyndi had never shown the slightest interest in acting out a fantasy, even a tame one with just me. And, a lot of them were anything but tame! I could think of dozens that were downright kinky and now I wondered how many (and which ones) weren't 'fantasies', but facts! I tried to act as calmly as she deserved in light of the current circumstances, but I took too long before saying something and she was becoming more and more concerned that she'd made a big mistake telling me.

"Lyndi, I told you when we met that 'the past, both yours and mine, is the past'. I don't intend to change that now and I love you. You still love me?"

"Of course I still love you, it's just...," she started. I stopped her with a kiss and said,

"Then we don't have a problem. What would you like to do now? We can leave the faire if you'd like or we can go back to jousting, or we can go anywhere else you'd like to go."

The look of relief on her face told me all I needed to know. She hugged me hard and smiled a slightly unsure smile which turned 'sure' when I kissed her again and smiled back.

She led me, wandering through the faire, past booths of jewelry, stained glass, woodcarvings, blown glass, and feathers. But, the food smells drove us to the place we stopped. After a hearty lunch of lamb, fresh bread, and red wine, we continued our wandering until we reached a curtained off area at the back edge of the faire. With her usual curiosity, she walked right through the curtain and faced a large array of unused props and stuff for displays. There, in the middle, was a set a set of ancient torture stocks, complete with padding in the holes (added for 20th century comfort!) for the prisoner's head and wrists. We slowly approached this (working model?) device in awe. One of the stories Lyndi had told me (and acted out?) was about a woman punished in a device like this while a bunch of people abused her and men had...

"Open it for me, please." Her voice was barely a whisper, husky and slow. I moved in front of her to see her face and she practically begged me, "Open it. Please!"

I lifted the surprisingly heavy upper piece of lumber and she put a wrist into the left half-circle. Nodding quickly to me, I gently lowered the upper section and effectively trapped her hand. She couldn't slip it out nor lift the heavy, hinged top wood, even using both legs and her free hand. She gazed at me with total enchantment, and whispered, "Do you remember the story, 'Mary's Punishment'? Please play it with me, here, now! No, I know what you're thinking: I've never even seen one of these things before and I've never played 'Mary' before, but I want to right now. Just open it and let me get into it! Trust me, please!"

I implored her to forget about it but, in the end, I reopened the stocks and she bent forward, placing her wrists and neck into place on the lower framework and I closed the device, completely trapping her.

"Honey, hurry and do 'your part'! And, don't make me talk or it will ruin the effect!" I looked at her, thinking this was supremely foolish (while almost dying from my own excitement). Then I moved behind her, starting to lift her dress.

The voice saying, "Found you!" behind me nearly caused me to scream. I wheeled around to see 5 guys, 3 in jaunty period costume, standing near the access curtain. They weren't moving any closer but I was trying to decide whether to release Lyndi or start fighting a lost cause first. I was tensed to fight when Lyndi said,

"Butter." Then, most of the guys started to laugh.

"Great!" one of them said and he offered me his hand to shake. From the other side of the stocks, Lyndi spoke to me.

"It's all right, babe. 'Butter' is the word I used when I needed to tell a spotter to release me. You know, like when you're weightlifting, a spotter is someone who's right there to make sure that you are allright. It allows me to say things like, 'No!', or 'Stop!', or 'Help me!' while playing roles without scaring someone or stopping anything unless it's needed. These guys remember it from...before." I moved around to the other side of the stocks to look at her before she continued.

"You always told me it was your fantasy to see me taken by a group," she said quietly, just to me. "Is it still?"

I don't know if I ever really thought about it. I just remember kissing her trapped face before walking around behind her again (Did I see someone with a camera??), lifting her heavy dress, lowering her petticoat, intimately exposing her to everyone there. I opened my pants and moved into her, trying to be easy, failing miserably. I know I lasted less than three minutes but, under the circumstances, I'm surprised I did that much! I backed away from her slowly so that I could see the whole, striking tableau while refastening my pants. Then I turned to the awaiting 'rapists' and they rushed past me to Lyndi. One of them handed me a camera (I can't believe this...) and they attacked her while I took pictures and watched through the viewfinder.

* * * * *

I'd learned to develop film at work. It was easy to make prints of the film. When I did, I saw shots of everything: two guys laughing while kneeling beside Lyndi, pulling her legs apart, exposing her and holding her while one guy rapes her roughly; one standing by her face while thrusting into her mouth; a look of agony on Lyndi face while she's anal raped repeatedly; two attacking her at once; hands on her breasts, hips, thighs; mouths sucking and tongues licking all over her body; many pictures of each guy at orgasm in Lyndi; the aftermath on her ass, between her legs and hips, running down her legs, all over her neck and face.

Lyndi and I make it a point to go to the renaissance faire every year now. The costumes may or may not fit, the ride might be slow and hot sometimes but we make sure that we plan ahead: our tickets are always ready at the 'will call' window; and our friends know when to meet us near the back of the faire after lunch.