The Picture of Dorianna Grey Pt. 04

"Hear ye... hear ye... today's events will conclude on this day's sun-down."

The 'clanging' sound rang out as the man vigorously shook the hand-held bell. The two Scottish-bred Clydesdale horses clip-clo pped their way along the cobblestone road leisurely pulling the ornate horse-drawn carriage.

"When was the last time one saw a town-crier Lady Beatrice."

"It harkens back to a simpler time Lady Regina."

'Castles Edge Renaissance Fair'... The carriage moved under the banner strewn across the length of the quaint looking street.

A glance at her had Arianna looking marvelously girlish in her mock-neck gathered sleeve detail dress. Made of white linen and secured in back by fastened buttons had the piece splendid in layered ruffles.

Truth was each of the four appeared quite comfortably feminine if not pretty in the costumed look of dresses commonly worn during the period. The t-girl had learned Lady Regina always knew best. The woman's closest friend Lady Beatrice motioned for her gurl Doreen to do the same.

"Dear give a tug to straighten your chiffon ties holding your bonnet in place... let your matching parasol rest in your lap... though no rain in the sky will likely leave them here... Regina I think our darlings would enjoy holding a red balloon."

"Yes Mum... may we have a lollipop too?... oh Doreen isn't it fun being dressed up as we are."

"It seems so nice feeling a cool breeze flow under our skirts."

The driver looking like a regal coachman pulled the carriage to a stop before helping each step down to the path off from the center of the village of Castles Edge.

Walking through booths with fortune tellers, sellers of mutton chops and meat pies and crochet textiles being hawked mingled with acrobats, dancers, jugglers and actors staging impromptu jousting sword fights.

An opening between buildings the group saw costumed men throwing axes, tossing large stones a limited distance and the odd tall wooden-pole lifted and heaved held first at its bottom.

"Fancy a pint Beatrice?"

"Sure do... it's almost a requirement at such a lovely fair."

Doreen and Arianna blushed at being led into the manly environment of The Hound and Fatted Calf tavern. Harold Evers the owner spotted the group before tucking the bar-towel into his back-pocket and walking over.

"Come Ladies... seems the lads are getting rowdy... I've tried to tell them there weren't any football matches on the 'telly' to watch during the days of the Renaissance... I have booth over here where you can see all our patrons."

He took the towel and wiped off the table.

The gruff looking men at the booth next to theirs shouted out.

"Wench... wench... more ale for me and me mates."

The moment she saw the server Regina drew a smile.

Jezebel balanced the tray with 3 pints strutting towards the men. She couldn't explain why but just seeing Lady Regina she felt compelled to curtsey.

Harold spoke up.

"I must tell you with her large bosom Jezebel has drawn more customers than Bruno my former barkeep ever did... you know I never did find out what happened to him... it was as though he fell off the face of the earth."

"Harold people come and people go... it's the nature of things... have you thought about the latest idea i mentioned?"

"I like it Lady Regina."

Just then one of the men at the booth next door shouted at Jezebel.

"Bring that big arse over here gurl... give me a lift of the billowing skirt and let me smell that cunny."

Harold drew back hands on his hips he took command.

"Lads... lads... we have ladies next to you... Reginald save that kind of talk for when Jezebel gets her break and you guys court her out back behind my tavern."

"Sure Harold it's just seeing her big titties gets me juices flowing."

The man pulled Jezebel at the waist having her sit on his extended leg. The milky breasts were near spilling out over the rounded edge of the peasant blouse replete with ruffles.

Jezebel giggled out

"Ohhh Reginald you're so strong... another ten off the clock and I get me break."

Some of the ale spilled over the edge of the glass as he lifted to gulp a third of it down effortlessly.

"Ok you wench of a girl... expect to see all of us out back."

His hand reached up and groped at the loose pair of breasts hidden behind the cotton fabric.

"Just give me a little taste."

"Oh Reginald... please... you're man-handling me."

The three burly lads all let out belly laughs before taking a pull off their pints. The one lifted his glass.

"Here's to England... if not for us the world never would have been civilized."

Reginald blurted out

"Quite right... quite right... the thundering hordes of defeated heathens learned this to be true the hard way."

His mate Gerry lifted his pint.

"I say a toast to Sir Winston... some say a racist at times for now I say bollocks to that... everybody makes mis-steps... He stood alone shaking his fist at the hated jack-booted 'Nazzziiiiiies' and their fascist miscreant."

"Here... here... cheers."

Seeing Jezebel slip out the back entrance Lady Regina suggested their group of four continue on to see what else the renaissance fair had to offer.

Like so many in the countryside a lovely garden was contained within the walls out back the pub. Reginald and his two mates were pleased to see Jezebel bringing a pitcher of stout ale as she walked out.

A quick hand lift had the pretty girl lowering her flouncing skirt off before doing the same with her peasant blouse. Wiggling her large rounded arse she slid her pair of bloomers off. The enticing knickers were present day had the pair of Hanky-panky's looking lovely as though made of pure lace.

The 3 men didn't take long to get to a state of nakedness.

"Oh I need cock... look at how gorgeous all of yours look."

Having quickly acclimated to it she enjoyed the feel of her milky breasts swaying in the breeze while slipping to her knees. Jezebel slid her tongue out letting it run seductively around the upper and lower lip.

At 6' 3" Reggie presented as a manly man. His hand stirred some life into the pair of hairy balls. Scooting up Jezebel took hold of the lengthy rod letting it glide up and down through the cleavage. Standing tall hands on his hips looking dominant Reginald spoke.

"Oh I love a good tittie fuck... that's my good gurl... get me to explode."

Squeezing her tits together her chin dropped letting her mouth take in some of the head of the cock when it moved upward. Sensitive to the touch her fingers ran along the tip of the dick. Suddenly the hard pricked seized up.

"Eeewww fuck... lash me to the yardarm I'm coming."

The cock erupted sending band after band of man-juice over her luscious breasts. She let her hand swirl the cream all about taking a glob and slipping some into her mouth.

His friend Gerry declared it.

"The horny lass clearly likes jizz... alright it's my turn... stand back lads and watch a real man getting his wanker sucked off."

Lifting out from the amazon forest look of hairiness surrounding his cock Gerry pushed the dick in her mouth. Jezebel let her tongue slither out like some kind of serpent of a snake as it slid around the head of the prick. She next licked the underside flicking her tongue up and down at it. Her mouth captured the head before sliding her lips down the shaft. Hefting his balls she lightly tickled them with her long fingernails while pumping the dick.

"Oh give it to me baby... I want to feel you violently shoot out inside my mouth."

The Bible told it so... 'Ask and you shall be given'...

The first spurt erupted spewing out like an oil rig off the coast of the north Atlantic. 3 more followed then came another 2.

"Ugggg yea... oh fuck me... damn girl you're in the wrong trade... you should be a lady of the night down in Soho."

The two looked at their other mate. Try as he might he couldn't get erect. The opportunity present like any friends they were quick to give him a load of grief about it.

"What are you some kind of pfoufter... "

"Yea... you gone fag on us Billy... you turn homo all of a sudden... maybe you should be dressing up like those lovely t-girls at the Pink Punters or Wayout club."

"Oh shite fella's... it's this damn erectile disfunction rearing its ugly head again... all these pints today haven't helped either."

Lady Regina spotted the man before he saw her. Walking with a beautiful Scandinavian blond Nigel Harrington's old business partner Roger was there with his wife Ilsa. The two strolling along were taking in the sights of the different booths.

As she approached Regina could hear the husband being berated by his wife. It reminded her how many men these days were often verbally beaten down by their woman spouse until they ceded control as head of the household. She mused to herself... 'Hmmm king of his castle... me thinks not... maybe someone would benefit from seeing the picture of Dorianna Grey'.

Roger quickly responded to his wife.

"Yes dear I did the laundry... yet I forgot about doing the 'hoovering'... maybe when we get home I can take to it."

"Don't dear me... Christ on a bicycle I give you a list of simple household chores and you have difficulty doing them... Honestly you deserve a thrashing to your bum when we get back.'

Meekly lowering his head the husband softly responded.

"Yes Ilsa dear."

Regina strutted over her hand extended.

"Hello you must be Ilsa... I'm Regina... I happened to recognize your husband Roger... I was helping a friend unwind their partnership before Nigel headed out to Australia I think... or was it New Zealand?"

Ilsa shook hands with the woman seeing Roger was carrying her purse.

"Nice to meet you Regina... yes we never have heard from NIgel since the partnership ended... though we did make tidy sum dissolving the arrangement... it gave us a little nest-egg yet I still need to work... I should know I handle all our finances... males are far too immature to be handling money... "

Roger stuck his hand out yet Regina smiled it away kissing his cheek instead before doing the same to his wife. Her mouth near Ilsa's lips she whispered.

"I couldn't agree more... self-centered in the extreme they can act quite childish so much of the time can't they?"

"Tell me about it... ever since he's been at home not working I've let him know he'll not be lounging around the house doing nothing but drinking watching football... besides a little housework never hurt anyone."

"Well Ilsa seeing how he is carrying your purse it does appear your training of him is in process."

"True enough yet there is so much more he should be conditioned to do to make my life easier."

"Nothing a little estrogen wouldn't solve... oh look my gurl and our friends... let's introduce you and that subby-hubby of yours... and walk to the town center."

"That's rich Regina... subby-hubby... I like how you put that.... come along Roger don't dawdle."

Acting like a puppy in training he replied.

"Yes my lovely snuggle-bun."

Roger took a look at Arianna after the introduction. He couldn't quite place it yet he felt a connection if not sensing a slight recognition.

Beatrice took hold of Ilsa's hand glad to see how happy her gurl Doreen and Arianna looked holding the red balloons and licking the lollipops as they skipped ahead like girls do. The three women walking ahead had Roger trailing behind. His woman shouted back

"Roger fish around in my purse and pull out my 'lippy'... I must say you ladies look lovely in your period dresses."

Regina replied.

"We both have a little royal blood within our DNA... I've managed to keep some heirlooms handed on down to me over the years."

An actor playing a town minstrel sauntered by strumming his mandolin. A pause had him speaking to the three after dismissing the two t-girls as mere playthings.

"Ladies they're having a demonstration in the town square and are asking for volunteers."

The group approached only to see a Pillory and Wooden-Stock with people around it. Both had been in popular use as late as the mid 18th century as a way of displaying a citizen that had gone off the straight and narrow as the expression goes.

One man had his feet secured in the discipling stock while resting on a wooden bench. The top piece of wood carved out to accept the limbs of a human had it covering to connect the bottom piece also carved out making him immobile. His family got a kick out of seeing the alpha father restrained.

"We need a volunteer for the Pillory display."

Ilsa raised her hand.

"I know one that will do."

The stern look at Roger let him know he was the volunteer.

The crowd at the The Hound and Fatted Calf pub was clearing out on the announcement. A stray costumed man with a feathered cap as though he'd spent a lifetime in Sherwood Forest had stuck his head inside and shouted.

"They're having the champion round of the archery contest."

Harold took to wiping the bar while Jezebel stacked the freshly cleaned glasses next to him. The owner couldn't resist. His meaty hand glided along the curvy outline of her full-rounded bottom.

"Mr. Evers... my goodness... what's going on behind my back."

"There's an extra tenner in it for you Jezebel... hell I'll double that... now just hold still gurl... let's get this skirt of yours out of the way... geez you ladies and your bloomers... a lad could get lost amongst the feminine finery before he finds your hidden treasure."

The lengthy girth pressed against the bare skin of her thigh. Jezebel could immediately feel the heat emanating off the manly rod. An arch to her back bent at the waist she leaned forward lifting her pretty bum up.

Looking more like Friar Tuck than Robin Hood Harold thought he'd stay in the period dialect making the comment.

"Your cunny is as wet as October... Ugggg... so nice an warm... you really do make for a beautiful wench of a barmaid... pull your blouse lower show off those magnificent breasts... why I have half a mind to make you my wife."

That was all she needed to hear. The mere thought she'd be taken care of becoming a wife gave her the motivation. The second Jezebel lowered her peasant blouse her breasts spilled out. Jostling about they looked like prisoners freed from a jail break.

"Eww fuck me Sir... fuck me Sir... oh what a gorgeous cock."

Squeezing her vagina muscles the moist pussy engulfed his manhood.

"So thick... so long... I feel so fertile Harold... Damn... behead Anne Boleyn in the tower of London if you must... yet just don't stop until your arrow leaves its creamy mark."

Staring straight ahead in the mirror Jezebel looked at her breasts jiggling. Her bottom cheeks rippling on every thrust inward had her slip her finger lower to rub the nub of her clit.

She sounded so hopelessly feminine.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh... your cream... eeewwww it feels so nice... oh yessssss make me your woman Harold... and you'll get this anytime you want."

How many married men had heard the same wishing it were true?

End of part 4...