The Renaissance Faire

Pamela did recall, quite easily, now that she thought about it, but she hadn't expected Mr. Wilson to bring that up. It had been so many years ago. Her pleading now conveyed a bit more sincerity. "No, no sir, honestly, sir, I knowing nothing of what thee spake." It wasn't particularly good dialect but she was feeling a little uncomfortable and confused.

Mr. Wilson smiled. He knew she was lying, but he would play along. "I recall myself a young girl repeatedly trampling through my garden. At times even picking the flowers, without my permission?"

Spank! Spank! Spank!

She confessed. "Oh, yes, of course, Mr. Wilson, but that was so many years ago."

"So many years, yes, but never any apology, never any recompense."

Spank!

"Oh, I am sorry, Mr. Wilson. Truly I am." This was really terribly, terribly awkward having the older man, her next door neighbor, spanking her bottom like this.

He again chuckled. She was perhaps sorry now, but not out of feelings of guilt or remorse. Her apologies were driven by feelings of fear, sorry for the position she was now in.

Pamela was indeed concerned. Was he being serious? It was true that Mr. Wilson had complained a number of times to her parents. She had never taken it too seriously though, as her parents had only mildly reprimanded her, warning her not to do it again as Mr. Wilson was a stickler for his flower bed, sometimes spending hours back there, fussing over every little bud, attacking every little weed and wayward vine. But, her repeated violations never amounted to any actual punishment, as most everyone in the neighborhood considered Mr. Wilson to be a rather "fuddy duddy."

Spank!

But, the rooster had now come back to roost? "I hope you're not still upset about it, sir." Clearly though he was. Pamela's bottom was now wagging around with more urgency, more distress.

Mr. Wilson smiled. "Well, I suspect I have my opportunity now, don't I."

"Please, sir! Have mercy on this maiden!"

Spank!

"I can do now what your parents should have done many years ago, Pamela."

Spank! Spank! Spank!

"Yes, yes, please forgive me, kind sir," she pleaded.

The talking, taunts and laughter of the audience were too loud for anyone to hear much of their conversation, but they could see that the once proud and rebellious girl was showing signs of responding to the punishments she had been receiving. She was looking truly contrite, and deeply concerned. She was a very good actress indeed.

Spank! Spank! Spank!

"Mr. Wilson!" Pamela exclaimed, in a very sincere and adamant protest.

Mr. Wilson grinned with delight. He had always been so disappointed, and frustrated, at the failure of Pamela's parents to take seriously his complaints and concerns. What if he trampled through their back yard, stepping on and kicking over their plants? Well, the shoe was finally on the other foot and he was putting it to good use.

Spank!! Spank!! Spank!!

"Mr. Wilson!" Pamela squealed. His spanks were now a bit harder, a bit more sincere and, most importantly, very personal, real, and meaningful.

The crowd squealed with delight and laughter at the girl's obvious discomfort and discontent over her public chastisement.

Spank!! Spank!! Spank!!

"Mr. Wilson, please! I beg you!"

He grinned broadly at the feel of his hand on the girl's soft, round, petite derriere, as well as at the sight of her frantic twisting and turning, trying to avoid another smack on her behind. But, he also knew that his time was limited and he had to use it wisely. He had probably wasted too much time conversing with her. He bent over to reach for the hem of Pamela's full skirt.

Pamela at first felt relief at the pause in Mr. Wilson's spanking. It still had not been at all painful, but it had been rather embarrassing, to say the least, particularly at her age. She might not have been surprised as a girl if she had been spanked by Mr. Wilson if he had managed to get his hands on her, but he had always been too slow to catch her. She now wished that perhaps she had been spanked back then as it was far worse being spanked by him now, being a fully grown young lady. The sexual implication of her position, her presentation, was now far worse. Well, at least it had ended soon. But, her heart stopped as she felt the man slowly lifting up her skirt.

"Mr. Wilson! What are you doing, sir!!"

The crowd laughed with approval. They weren't at all sure what he was doing, but the fact that the young lady was objecting made it sound like it was something quite funny. They knew she was just acting. If it was anything serious she would call for the manager of the booths. Additional tips fell into Pamela's bucket.

Mr. Wilson didn't reply. Raising Pamela's full skirt and slip, however, wasn't that easy. Plus, in the end, he was confronted with a pair of white cotton bloomers (linen was too expensive). Mr. Wilson exclaimed, "Pamela, I'm so impressed! How very authentic of you!"

"Uh, well, um, thank you sir," Pamela softly responded, her eyes wide with shock and concern. She really wasn't too sure what to say. It just seemed natural, particularly as a sorority girl, to express one's appreciation for the compliment.

She had felt that it was indeed quite authentic of her to be wearing bloomers. Not too many Renaissance participants take the faire so seriously as to wear appropriate attire that's hidden from view. In fact, she had considered suggesting that the manager toss her skirt and slip over her back so that the spanking would in fact be all the more authentic. That's why she had indeed worn the bloomers. But, she had chickened out once she was placed in the pillory, feeling at the time so helpless and vulnerable.

"I guess I will have to be nice and give you some consideration for this."

"Thank you, Mr. Wilson," Pamela politely responded. Perhaps then it was okay to have her skirt and slip raised, as she had originally intended, although she wasn't so sure that she enjoyed having them being seen by her older neighbor, Mr. Wilson. Well, it wasn't like he was actually seeing her real underwear. That would most certainly be inappropriate. It was still just part of her costume.

Spank! Spank! Spank!

"Mr. Wilson!" Pamela lifted her head up and looked with renewed surprise and shock out at the audience. "You said you would be nice!"

Spank! Spank! Spank!

Pamela danced her bottom around. The spanks were now actually a bit stingy, no longer protected by the dress and slip.

Mr. Wilson explained as he continued to spank the girl, "These are softer spanks, Pamela, and I am letting you keep your bloomers on."

Spank! Spank! Spank!

"Oh my gracious!" Pamela exclaimed, imagining the humiliation of having her bloomers pulled down. She had not been thinking that such a thing would even be considered, and now that he brought it up she did imagine the possibility and found the thought just so shameful. Perhaps she should be grateful for his consideration but it was still plenty humiliating enough to be in such a pose with her skirt and slip up over her back, her bloomer bottom poking out so suggestively, and feeling her neighbor's hand repeatedly making contact with her derriere, only now just barely hidden.

Spank! Spank! Spank!

Mr. Wilson could feel his dick swelling within his pants, both at the sight of the bloomer covered bottom dancing and prancing so suggestively, as well as the feel of his hand repeatedly smacking the young lady's squishy soft curves. The thin cotton hugged the curves of her fanny so nicely. He was now quite glad that he hadn't been able to spank the girl's bottom when she was younger, as the adult bottom provided a very important additional pleasure.

Spank! Spank! Spank!

"Mr. Wilson, you stop that now or I'm going to tell my parents about this," Pamela threatened, feeling that perhaps such a threat might cause him to question the appropriateness of what he was doing. Of course, they might in fact approve of the belated but perhaps fully due punishment.

The crowd laughed at the girl's silly and pointless threat.

Mr. Wilson did stop, but not for the reason that Pamela hoped. He did not appreciate the threat. It was clear that this girl was not learning her lesson. Perhaps he should not be so considerate after all.

He reached for the waistband of the young lady's bloomers and quickly pulled them down to her ankles.

"Mr. Wilson! Oh my goodness!" Had he really done that? He had! He pulled her bloomers all the way down and now her bottom was fully exposed to his eyes! She strained at the pillory, trying to escape, to escape his eyes that she knew were feasting on her bare butt nakedness.

The crowd roared with laughter and applause.

Mr. Wilson just stood there awhile, admiring the sight. It was really very fetching, very charming. A young lady's naked bottom is so cute and adorable, so enticing, so suggestive. And, this one even seemed to have a pink glow to it, having developed a bit of sheen secondary to all that spanking. And, that crack, the enticing bottom crack, whose skin was a bit darker than the rest, suggesting the presence of mysterious wonders deep down into that valley. His cock was now so stiff within his slacks, imagining how much fun it will be to spank her now.

Pamela anxiously looked for the manager of the booths, although she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to find him. Did she want anyone to know how indecently she was now exposed? She most certainly didn't want the audience to know. That would only make matters worse. It would be much better if she could just get him to pull her bloomers back up, without giving away what the problem was. What if it got out that she had her bloomers down at the fair? What would that do to her reputation? What would Miss Wormer say!?

"Please, Mr. Wilson. That's enough. I really, really, really am sorry, and I will come over to your house tomorrow and work on your garden. I promise!"

Mr. Wilson though didn't say anything. Instead, he just rested a hand on one of the girl's so very soft little cheeks, the tips of his fingers sliding down into her crack.

Pamela squeezed her eyes shut in shame as she felt the man touch her there, and then do even more. He was feeling, caressing, even fondling her little bottom cheeks!

Pamela turned her head as best she could, trying fruitlessly to look back at him. "Mr. Wilson, prithee sir! I beseech thee! That's most inappropriate. You must not take advantage of a maiden in such a manner! It is most unseemly." She was trying to stay in character but it was understandably difficult under the circumstances.

The crowd roared with laughter, continuing to think that this was all just an act.

Mr. Wilson smiled and, with his left hand, waved at the crowd, letting them know it was all just harmless fun, as he enjoyed the feel of the young lady's perky little tush. A girl's bottom is indeed a delight to hold and caress. There are other parts of her body that are comparably pleasurable as well, to be sure, but there is something preciously darling about a girl's derriere. Perhaps it was its innocence, its girlish charm. Well, whatever the reason Mr. Wilson did truly appreciate what a nice little tush Pamela had.

But, then, the alarm went off. Mr. Wilson's time was up. His heart sank. He had lost track of the time, understandably so. He cursed himself for not anticipating how much fun this would truly be. And he could not buy any additional time now. His turn was up, yet he could have done so much more. He reluctantly turned to leave.

"Prithee, Mr. Wilson, my...?"

Mr. Wilson paused, and then turned back to look at Pamela, more accurately at that sweetly exposed pinkish derriere. He softly patted her bottom in reassurance. "I really think it looks much better this way, don't you Pamela?"

Pamela shook her bottom back and forth, trying to wiggle the dress and slip back down over her bottom, but it only provided Mr. Wilson with a rather lascivious dance. It was such a shame to leave this bottom behind. He stepped through the curtain.

It was perhaps a dirty trick to play on the girl, leaving her like that for the next participant. But, Pamela had played quite a few dirty tricks on him over the years.

He stepped down off the stage to stand in front of her. He smiled up at her as she glared down at him. She did see though that he did leave her a very, very handsome tip, which drew some gasps and applause from the audience.

Pamela was pleased to see that, and certainly Miss Wormer would be very, very pleased.

But, she then heard the next customer enter the booth.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed with fright and shame, and this time there was no acting whatsoever, although to the crowd it still appeared as such. She froze in worried anticipation.

The man, Mr. Mitchell, was as shocked as Pamela was dismayed. There before him was a girl within a pillory, her skirt and slip tossed up over her back, bloomers at her ankles, her naked bare bottom sticking out at him.

Well, he now understood why they had this part curtained off and why you had to be at least eighteen to participate. They certainly didn't want to have the girls show their bare bottoms to anyone walking by. They could probably get into trouble for that. In any case, it was obviously well worth the twenty-five dollars for the ticket. Before he even started he knew he would be giving this girl a handsome tip. He hadn't seen a pretty little perky tush like that in years! He stepped right up to the girl and did not hesitate.

Smack!

"Yipe!" Pamela squealed at the feel of bare hand now smacking her butt. There was also a very distinct change in the sound, with flesh smacking flesh, although this was largely missed by the roaring crowd.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Perhaps she should call the manager over now? It just felt so wrong to have a man spanking her on the bare bottom, and right out in public. But Miss Wormer would probably be quite upset with her. He was just doing what Miss Wormer had done to her bottom on more than one prior occasion. Heck, she might even get a spanking by Miss Wormer for denying the man his spanking. Plus, the sorority did really need the money, and if this man tipped her as well as Mr. Wilson had; well, perhaps it really wasn't so bad? And, unlike Miss Wormer's spanking it wasn't really in public view. Pamela was so, so confused over what to do.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

"Oh, please kind sir," Pamela wailed, "Have some pity on this poor maiden."

Smack! Smack! Smack!

"This is so shameful!"

Smack! Smack! Smack!

The crowd was roaring its approval. Pamela was clearly providing a much better performance than the other girls, even the one from Delta Nu, who did have an awfully long line.

"So embarrassing! So wrong!"

But so much fun for Mr. Mitchell. He had never spanked any of his daughters. It just didn't seem right to use corporal punishment, nor appropriate, particularly as they got older, a fact that became physically apparent to him as his cock swelled within his slacks. He had not himself ever harbored any fantasies of spanking a girl. Well, that wasn't really true at all. It's just that he was usually rather embarrassed by such fantasies and so he kept them to himself. He most certainly never ever asked any of his dates, girlfriends, or even his wife, especially not his wife, to let him spank her.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

He had on occasion provided his wife a playful or affectionate pat, perhaps even a smack, on her bottom, his dick swelling and twitching with delight when he did so. She had taken it well, usually giggling and scolding him, pretending to express her disapproval. Yet, at the same time, it was also clear that if she understood him to be serious about the spanking, if she knew that he actually would like to put her over his knee, better yet on her knees on the edge of the bed, she would be sincerely and seriously upset.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

"Oh please, please, sir knight. Must you spank me so hard?"

Was he doing it too hard? He eased up, perhaps he was getting a bit too excited. He felt such an urge to take his cock out. Perhaps he could. His dick would be as safe from view as the young lady's precious little bottom. Nobody would ever know.

He quickly unzipped his slacks, pausing in his spanking to extract his cock, which was so happy to be released. Once released though he did have a bit of dilemma: which hand to use for spanking? What was more important, stroking his cock or spanking the bare bottom?

He shifted to the other side of the girl's bottom. "Let's make sure we get both sides," he loudly exclaimed. He decided his dick should have his right hand. He would use his left to spank the girl's bottom. His right hand was kind of stingy anyway.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Now, this was much, much better. He refrained from spanking her at all hard, enjoying simply the feel of his hand on that soft sweet naked tush as his other hand gripped and stroked his cock. This girl had such a cute little perky tush, and he so much enjoyed how it wiggled and jumped around, like she was putting on a little dance for him.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Pamela wasn't saying anything, at least at the moment. He obviously wasn't going to stop, and he was now at least spanking her more softly. She just scrunched her face, grimacing at the shameful bare bottom spanking she was receiving.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Mr. Mitchell though did suddenly stop, in large part because he was getting close to cumming, but he also wondered if perhaps this was wrong. He certainly knew his wife would not approve, particularly his masturbating at the same time.

Pamela wondered why the man had stopped. Perhaps like Mr. Wilson he was just admiring his handiwork, which made her face redden, perhaps as much as her bottom. Was he like kneeling down, peeking at her private parts? She closed her thighs as tightly together as she could.

The crowd could see that the man was having second thoughts, that perhaps he was going to refrain from any further spanking. They hollered at him to resume, even taunting him for his cowardice, accusing him of being delinquent in his duties, his responsibilities.

Pamela could see that this was not good. She would be quite happy for the man to stop, but not this way, not against the wishes of the crowd. Her participation in the faire might become an abject failure, earning her an even more serious shame and spanking from Miss Wormer. She turned her head, trying to speak to the man more clearly. "Please sir, continue. I do truly deserve this discipline. I have not been a proper maiden."

Mr. Mitchell was surprised. The girl wanted him to continue? Well, he really shouldn't be surprised at that. After all, she was a willing participant. It wasn't him that pulled her bloomers down. She must have had the manager do that.

The crowd cheered the girl's dedication to the success of the faire, to the true spirit of Wench-in-the-Docks. Additional tips were placed in her bucket.

Pamela even arched her back and stuck her bottom up higher. "Won't you please, sir...for me?" She wiggled her bottom wantonly, trying to urge him on.

Smack.

"Oh, thank you good man," Pamela responded, with mock gratitude, smiling as she felt the gentle smacks continuing.

The crowd cheered their approval.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Mr. Mitchell grinned as he resumed his gentle spanking, and stroking.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

He did occasionally stop his stroking as he didn't want to cum in the booth. That would very likely get him into trouble. But, he was quite happy with the compromise. It was still a pretty good treat, to say the least. He wondered if perhaps he could get his wife to submit to a spanking this evening, but he knew that he shouldn't even bring it up. The memory of this young lady though would be there as he fondled his wife's bottom.