The Renaissance Faire

Stacie kissed up and down the shaft and all over the crown, at times just slipping and sliding her lips up and down and all around. She so much enjoyed the feel of the hard shaft and soft round knob on her lips. She even paused at times to look up at Mr. Humboldt looking down at her, his thick cock resting across her cheek, against her nose, past her eyes and across her forehead. She wondered if he liked how it looked to have his cock traversing her face. She wiggled her nose against it.

She then returned her lips to the very tip of his dick, and slipped her tongue out from between her lips, albeit rather tentatively and cautiously, ready to quickly extract it back within the safety of her mouth at the sign of any danger.

But, it wasn't bad at all. On the contrary, it was rather nice; really nice, in fact. There must be something instinctually satisfying to a girl to be licking a man's cock, or at least it certainly felt that way to Stacie. She instantly liked it. She would not compare it to licking an ice cream cone, like some guys might want her to think. Ice cream was certainly much tastier than cock flesh, but this was a different sort of pleasure. This was a more fundamental, base, primitive, animalistic pleasure. Stacie knew what she would be doing tonight, beneath the sheets, and thinking about as she was doing it.

At the feel of the girl's tongue on his cock, the professor's legs became a bit shaky, a bit weak. He hadn't felt anything like this in years, and had assumed that he would never again, and certainly would never have imagined it being delivered by a girl as pretty as Stacie. He felt so lucky, so honored, so lustfully aroused.

He watched as the girl slowly opened her mouth, wider and wider, perhaps as wide as her lips could stretch. She apparently didn't want to take any chance of scraping her teeth against his cock, which was rather considerate, although perhaps a bit melodramatic.

"Mmmmmm," Stacie moaned as she absorbed the head of Mr. Humboldt's cock into her mouth. It felt so wonderful, so natural there. She wrapped her lips around the shaft, just below the lip of the crown, embracing his lip within hers. She bathed the smooth, slick knob with her tongue.

She again looked up into the professor's eyes, and smiled through the thick meat that now engorged her mouth, her green eyes twinkling with delight.

Mr Humboldt's knees buckled as he felt Stacie's tongue dance and prance all over and around the swollen bulb. "Oh gosh," he gasped. She was driving him insane with pleasure as her tongue was swirling and tickling each and every hypersensitive nerve on his crown, all of them firing at once, tingling, tickling, and sparkling with joy and excitement.

Stacie had no real idea what to do with her tongue so she was trying to do anything and everything she could. She knew she was at least giving the shiny purple bulb a real good washing, and that had to be good.

"Oh man," the professor gasped, as he suddenly felt that sense of inevitable pressure. He never had a problem with premature ejaculation when he was younger. He wouldn't think that it would occur now that he was so much older. But, it had been sometime since he had masturbated, and the sight and feel of the pretty Stacie cleansing his knob with her tongue was just too intense. "Stacie," he belatedly warned, as he felt his dick twitch as a wad of cum swept up his shaft, bursting from the tip into the girl's mouth.

"Mmmmmmmm," Stacie sighed as she felt the man's cum splat against her tongue. A part of her screamed to pull away, to not allow a man to ejaculate into her mouth, but a bigger part of her so much wanted to experience this, to know what it was like to take a man's semen into her mouth, to taste it.

Who knows? After today, she may never have another opportunity. Jack was a very respectful young man who fully embraced the purity pledge. She would not be at all surprised to discover after they were married that he preferred to keep the sex functional rather than playful. He might not ever want to cum in her mouth.

But, he would be missing so, so much, as would she, Stacie now realized, as her mouth filled with Mr. Humboldt's semen. It was just so much! And it squirted with such force, splashing against one cheek, then the other, and then against her tongue, all the while she kept licking and lapping away at the tip of the knob, trying to catch the freshest taste as possible.

Plus, the texture was so terribly curious, so thick and viscous, like a thick, gooey jam. It certainly wasn't as sweet and tasty as jam. She would not go so far as that. It would probably be an acquired taste for most women, like salty caviar, but one for which she had an instant and immediate affinity.

The professor gasped with blissful pleasure, his eyes clamping shut to bathe in the joy of such fundamental contentment and fulfillment. He gently held and caressed the girl's head, partly to help her keep it still, so that she would not pull away, but also to express his appreciation, his fondness. He would have to give her some extra special extra credit for this.

"Mmmmmmmm," Stacie again groaned, now with profound satisfaction, so thankful to have had this experience, this opportunity.

When he was done she squeezed out the remaining drops into her mouth. "Thnkth yth, Mther Mumbolth," she slurred, her speech clumsy and garbled by the globs of thick gism sloshing around in her mouth.

Professor Humboldt left a very handsome tip indeed and Stacie earned quite a bit of more money throughout the rest of the day for Omega Theta Pi. Miss Wormer was very proud, albeit a little curious about the big smile on the girl's face that just would not go away the entire evening.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

One of the more popular festivities at a Renaissance Faire are the Wench-in-the-Docks, and the girls of Omega Theta Pi felt that this was one event for which they would be well suited and very competitive. They were not apprentices when it came to this sort of activity, this form of punishment.

Every Sunday Miss Wormer, the Housemother, announced which of the Omega Theta Pi sisters had earned enough demerits that week to warrant corporal punishment (see "Living with Omega Theta Pi," a sequel to this story). It was never a severe spanking, nothing that would actually harm the girl. It was more the public spectacle of being spanked in front of the other sorority sisters that Miss Wormer considered to be the most helpful and instructive aspect of the disciplinary session.

The very existence of this form of disciplining sorority sisters was perhaps another reason that Omega Theta Pi was having difficulty attracting new members. But, Miss Wormer was not about to compromise on the growth, development, and moral integrity of the girls within her charge. She knew in her heart that her approach was right, that it was best for the girls, and that someday this would become apparent to the Housemothers of the other sororities on campus (clearly something needed to be done about the Delta Nu girls).

Miss Wormer did not use a pillory comparable to the ones at the Renaissance Faire, but the girls giggled at the thought of being placed in one. Yes, this was something that they could do very well.

There was in fact quite a bit of competition among the girls over whom would be chosen to represent Omega Theta Pi within the Wench-in-the-Docks festivity. The honor eventually went to Pamela Button, who was simply thrilled. She was one of the girls who in fact found the spankings of Miss Wormer to be a bit titillating. It was rumored among the sisters within the sorority that some of the girls even engaged in spanking parties (Pamela was amongst those for whom there was some speculation) but, not surprisingly, none of the girls would ever admit to such a thing, including Pamela.

Pamela was chosen by Miss Wormer because she was among the more mature of the Omega sisters, being a college senior and 21 years old. Many of the girls felt that it was an odd choice, as Pamela was among the more frequently spanked within the sorority, but Miss Wormer felt that this experience actually made Pamela a good choice for the event. She was unlikely to find it too stressful. Not every sorority sister could handle a day of being spanked in public.

The pillories at the Livingston Renaissance Faire were in one regard accurate. Once the girl was in place, her head and hands sticking out from the three holes, she could not escape. She was locked in, bent over, face to the members of the town or, in this case, the guests at the faire.

But, there were some important differences, all for the protection of the girls willing to participate in this naughty but playful amusement. First, the public was not allowed to throw anything at them. They were allowed to taunt and tease, if it all remained in good taste and spirited merriment. Nothing lewd or insulting would be tolerated. And, for only 25 dollars, they could even give the girl a spanking themselves! On the front edge of the stage rested a large bucket in which the money, and additional tips, could be placed.

If any of the girls felt at all bashful or sheepish about receiving a public spanking the significant part of her body for this festivity was modestly hidden by curtains that equaled the height of the pillory, which was itself on a stage. There were four such pillory cubicles on the stage, each privately curtained and each set back a bit of distance from the front of the stage. Only the gentleman's head and perhaps his shoulders could be seen, as well as, of course, the head and hands of the shameful miscreant. The management of this festivity felt that it would really be going much too far if the general public could witness the actual hand on bottom spanking. It might make the event a bit too provocative, if not overtly sexual.

Pamela was delighted that she was chosen as it sounded like good spirited fun. It would most certainly be considerably less than she had already experienced at the hands of Miss Wormer and in plain view of the eyes of her sorority sisters. Upon witnessing the curtained cubicles Pamela even smiled. She would have to suffer the petty ignominy of getting a few pats on her behind, but it would be entirely private and, most importantly of all, it was all for the good, for the future, of Omega Theta Pi. She vowed to smile gaily through the mock punition.

Once she was placed in the pillory, however, a moment of doubt swept through her mind. It was really quite imprisoning. There was simply no way she could escape. She was trapped, and helpless; totally, utterly, wholly helpless. All she could do was to look out over the crowd of smiling, joyful, giggling, and laughing faces, enjoying the sight of her public humiliation.

But, she again appreciated the privacy of the curtains behind her because her position was also a bit immodest, being bent over like she was, her bottom thrusting back as if she was presenting herself for something even more, even worse, than just a spanking. This particular concern was magnified by the fact that all of the persons who were paying for the privilege of providing her with a spanking appeared to be men (each had to prove that he was at least eighteen; management wanted a minimal degree of maturity for participating in such an event). Being spanked by a guy could have a much different implication than being spanked by a woman. She drew upon all her strength to smile back at the crowd. She even stuck her tongue out at them, displaying a self-confident defiance, which only served to rile them up even further.

The crowd howled in protest and mock anger at the wench sticking her tongue out at them. This was a lass who truly deserved a flogging. Well, perhaps not a flogging, but she was definitely going to get what she deserved! It was all very merry and playful.

Pamela listened as the manager explained the rules of the pillory to the men in line, the violation of which risked having one of them become subject to the same punishment (if not criminal arrest, of course, if he really took advantage of the situation). Pamela's heart rate accelerated as she heard her first customer entering the curtained booth behind her. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all?

Spank!

"Oh my gosh!" Pamela squealed with surprise, her head rising, her eyes opening wide with shock at the feel of the first smack on her bottom. It wasn't nearly as hard as the hand of Miss Wormer (who was herself not terribly hard), and in this instance her bottom was also well protected by her thick cotton dress, slip, and even bloomers, true to the dress of the Elizabethan time. Her shock was more with respect to just the ignominy of it all, being so publicly shamed.

The crowd cheered the young man's efforts, and the young lady's distress. They knew she wasn't really being harmed. One of the rules was not to spank so hard as to cause any real pain. It was all to be just light-hearted and impish fun. It was just the fantasy that was to be provocative, watching a maiden get a public spanking, much to her dismay and embarrassment.

Spank! Spank! Spank!

Pamela quickly recovered her composure and got back into the role. "Pray thee kind gentleman, please show some mercy upon this fair lass. Yikes!" she squealed in mock horror as another spank landed on her bottom.

Spank! Spank! Spank!

"Sir, I must ask, nay, plead for forgiveness. Yeow!" She squealed at another smack. She was not in fact that upset or concerned, and certainly not in any pain. It was just acting, putting on a good show for the crowd. She knew that they would enjoy her apparent dismay, and the more they enjoyed it the more tips they provided in her charity bucket resting at the front of the stage.

She squealed with another smack, "Kind sir, please, I can't take this anymore...My gracious!"

The crowd could see the hand of the man swing back if he cleared his shoulder, a big smile on his face, then they saw it rain down, out of their sight, but the effect upon the girl was very noticeably evident as she squealed and protested with each spank. A few erections developed in some of the pants of the audience, and a few of these men made their way to the line.

Spank! Spank! Spank!

"Oh this is so wrong," Pamela pretended to complain, not always staying within the dialect but always within character. "You must please have mercy. My bottom stings so bad, sir. You spank me so severely...Yikes!"

There was a bit of truth though, some reality, to her acting, as it was in fact a bit embarrassing to have strange men, some her own age, some much older, give her a spanking. Pamela was not a virgin, nor did she wear a purity ring, unlike many of her sisters of Omega Theta Pi. Still, she did share the same values of chasteness and modesty as her sisters. It was a pledge that was perhaps a bit more difficult for her to keep, given that she had already tasted (and rather enjoyed) the forbidden fruit, but it was one that she did embrace.

And like most any other girl (with the exception, of course, of the girls of Delta Nu), she did find that presenting her bottom in such a manner to be rather disconcerting, if not shameful. She could not escape the fact that the position was potentially quite sexual in its implications. The man performing spanking duty could see her bottom jutting out, and could even feel as well the soft, round curves of her petite derriere. She had to imagine that they were enjoying both the sight and the feel, but she tried not to think too long or too hard about that.

Spank! Spank! Spank!

On and on it went, one man after another giving the woeful lass her just desserts. In time though Pamela became more comfortable about it. Nobody was trying anything inappropriate. Some of the guys were a bit rougher in the spanking, whereas some of them were quite inhibited, but all appeared, at least from her perspective, to be very respectful; well, at least not terribly disrespectful. She even grew to enjoy it, as it was all just a merry and mirthful mischievousness. She even began to intentionally wiggle her bottom at the men, figuring that they probably liked that and would provide a bigger tip. Plus it made her feel rather playfully naughty herself.

Spank! Spank! Spank!

The hands of some of the customers though did at times linger, perhaps obtaining a bit of a fondle, even a caress. She would then wiggle her bottom in a more sincere protest, as well as verbally objecting that he was being rather impertinent and rude. He would then stop, although the crowd thoroughly enjoyed her objections, imagining what play must be going on behind the curtain, but knowing it was all in good fun, all very clean and appropriate theatrics.

Pamela eventually came to fully embrace the event. She would bounce her bottom around, feigning shameful embarrassment, but all the while finding it rather titillating, even a little exciting. She was enjoying this much more than a spanking by Miss Wormer which was, of course, a very real punishment, for which there was a sincere shame, embarrassment, and contrition, along with the spanking.

This spanking was just for fun, and it was being provided by guys, rather than a woman. Pamela was growing to appreciate that such an experience did have its pleasures. Frankly, this was the closet thing to having sex with a guy she had experienced in sometime, which she realized was perhaps a bit pathetic. She began to treat the event like a little flirtatious frolic, being able to wriggle and waggle her bottom at men in a very suggestive, if not openly lewd, manner, without being accused of being licentious. Goodness, imagine if she bent over on the campus commons and shook her bottom like this at guys. Yet, here she was doing precisely that. She giggled at how mischievously fun it was, but then got back into character, protesting, pleading, and begging for mercy.

She even grew to enjoy the spanks and fondling. No man had touched her sexually for quite awhile but now there was one guy after another giving her little spanks, caresses, and squeezes, all in the spirit of the faire, all for the benefit of her sorority's survival.

It was good though that all of them were strangers. It would be rather awkward if one of her classmates or, worse yet, one of her professors, was spanking or fondling her bottom. Now, that would be quite embarrassing!

"Well, Pamela, how wonderful of you to participate in this festival! I am really very impressed."

"Sir?" Pamela raised her head, her face awash in curiosity. She felt she recognized that voice, but she wasn't sure.

"Yes, yes, Pamela, it's Mr. Wilson. Remember me?"

"Mr. Wilson?" Was it actually him?

"Yes, Mr. Wilson. I was your next door neighbor."

"Yes, of course, Mr. Wilson." She was feeling a bit of foreboding.

Mr. Wilson continued. "I always enjoy a good Renaissance Faire and was really most pleased to observe your participation in Wench-in-the-Docks, most pleased indeed, I must say."

"Oh yes, well, I am grateful for your interest, Mr. Wilson. We can use all the help we can at Omega Theta Pi."

Her discomfort with the event was returning. Never in her life could she ever imagine presenting her bottom like this to Mr. Wilson. Yes, this was much, much worse than a stranger.

She did her best though to stay within character. "I have been a naughty maiden, Mr. Wilson, and I must be duly punished, really I must."

Spank!

"Mr. Wilson!" She squealed in shock at the sudden violation of her bottom cheeks by her next door neighbor.

Mr. Wilson chuckled. "Yes, well I would certainly agree with that, young lady," he replied. "I do recall the many, many times in which you and your little friends misbehaved in my back yard."

Spank!

"Sir?"

"You pretend to not recall?"

Spank! Spank! Spank!