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The Renaissance Faire

By: Charles Petersunn



This story is based on a suggestion of Ingen Ingetson, a Literotica reader. I hope it at least approaches Ingen's original intent. The predominant theme is one of reluctance and submission. If such stories are of little interest to you, and especially if they are troubling to you, then you most definitely should avoid this story. It also includes a bit of exhibitionism and first time innocence. Please note that the significant reluctance and submission is only mild at first, disappears for a moment into a mature and first time theme, and then becomes significant again at about the halfway mark.

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

Omega Theta Pi was no Delta Nu (see "Five steps to Delta Nu"). Omega Theta Pi was by far the most conservative sorority on campus. The girls of Omega Theta Pi prided themselves on their high moral compass, a devotion to the good life, to purity and wholesomeness in all matters of womanhood. The girls were not necessarily virgins, but there was nothing promiscuous about an Omega girl; far from it. She was a clean and virtuous "girl next door." Joining Omega Theta Pi was a commitment to purity, modesty, and self-discipline. Some of the girls even wore purity rings. It took a very special young lady to be an Omega girl.

The girls of Omega Theta Pi were very much like the Tri Pi girls of Faber College, although they did share one key similarity with the boys of Delta Tau Chi. Of course, they were not irresponsible, scurrilous, defamatory, academic sloths, like the boys of Delta Tau Chi. They were naturally very, very responsible, hard-working, upright, and polite young ladies.

What they did have in common with the boys of Delta Tau Chi was a dire financial condition. In fact, they were at risk of going under. Omega Theta Pi, like many other campus associations, had been hit hard by the financial crisis and unlike Delta Nu they did not have the connections to get a bailout from the US government (see "A field trip for Delta Nu").

It also didn't help that their membership was falling, due in part perhaps to their devotion to purity and wholesomeness. The Omega Theta Pi sorority was by far the most disciplined sorority on the Livingston campus, a fact of great pride to Miss Wormer, the Housemother. However, once a prospective pledge witnessed the requirements of and discipline provided by Miss Wormer, it was not unusual for her not to pursue membership any further.

The girls recognized that they would have to earn money the hard way, they would have to have a bake sale. Well, clearly a bake sale would not be enough but the girls did expand considerably their participation in the Livingston Renaissance Faire, a city event embraced by the college as a means to help develop positive relationships with the local community surrounding the Livingston campus. The college encouraged all campus groups to become involved in the fair, from simply serving as volunteers to participating in the many games, activities, and events scattered throughout the fair. The girls of Omega Theta Pi joined quite a number of them, as most included fees, prizes, and/or charitable donations.

The Livingston Renaissance Faire was not entirely authentic. Few of the attendees kept to the guidelines of dialect and dialogue, but many were at least in the appropriate garb of the Elizabethan period. Plus, there were plenty of jugglers, magicians, wizards, elves, and musicians wandering about, the sound of bells, lutes, and ocarinas floating in the air. And many of the activities bore a resemblance to those of a traditional Renaissance Faire.

Kathy Emerson of Omega Theta Pi in fact won the blue ribbon for the best fare: bourbelier of wild pig. There were many things at which an Omega girl excelled, and one of them was most definitely cooking. Alas, however, the prize for first place was not that much. They did make a bit more money selling hot bowls of the tasty dish.

Shelley Darlington entered the beauty contest. The sisters all agreed that she was the fairest lass of them all. She had wavy blonde hair that hung just past her shoulders, a very perky pointy nose, twinkling brown eyes beneath full fluttering lashes, rosy red cheeks and the cutest little dimples. She really was a cutie pie. But, not surprisingly she lost to a sister of Delta Nu, Lexi Belle, and Shelley felt that Lexi had not played fair at the faire. 

The Omega girls were in general struck by how immodest were the dresses of this period of time. It was said by some to be a period of modesty and restraint, but that was confusing the Elizabethan period with the Victorian, which would not occur for another two hundred years. In any case, the dresses that many of the faire participants wore were really low cut. The skirts did go all the way to one's ankles, but the women of this period did not appear to be at all immodest when it came to their bosoms, and Lexi Belle of Delta Nu pushed the envelope of decency. Her bodice appeared to provide only a supportive platform upon which to display her prominent and full breasts for all to see. It was as if they were resting on a form-fitting serving tray, offered for one's thirsty pallet the young lady's ripe juicy melons. Well, they may have been shaped like melons, but their consistency was more like pudding, as they so wiggled and jiggled at every little movement, which seemed for Lexi to be rather perpetual. She was always gaily waving to the crowd and, for some odd reason, repeatedly finding it necessary to lean over the stage to greet someone in the first couple of rows (paying particular attention to the judges). So many times it appeared that her young luscious breasts would just spill out of her bodice like two heavy water balloons, suddenly released from their precarious staging.

Shelley felt that her own outfit had been bold enough. She was wearing a pink and white peasant dress with half sleeves, maroon bodice, pink apron, and matching garland. All that held it up was a thin strap tied around her neck. Most importantly, at least for her, she wasn't wearing a brassiere. It was so much out of character for her but she felt to do so would not have been in the spirit of Renaissance attire.

Shelley could not help but frown in dismay and disgust at Lexi's shameless display, which probably cost her the Miss Congeniality Award, something for which Miss Wormer, the Omega Housemother, would be most displeased, probably earning Shelley a couple of demerits.

Shelley left the contest feeling rather dismayed and discouraged. She had so hoped to do better for Omega Theta Pi, yet she hadn't even come in third place. She had fallen entirely out of the money.

As she made her way back through the faire Penny, her best friend and roommate at Omega Theta Pi, caught up with her.

"Shelley, I'm so sorry! I missed the beauty contest. Miss Wormer asked me to help set up the kissing booth for Stacie. I'm really so sorry. How did you do? Did you win?"

Shelley shamefully replied, "No, no I did not. I didn't even come in third place."

"Well, you won Miss Congeniality, didn't you?"

Shelley stopped to face Penny as she admitted, "No, I didn't even do that."

"Oh," Penny replied. They hadn't really thought that Shelley would win the beauty contest, but they did at least feel that she would win Miss Congeniality.

"I'm so disappointed. I wanted to at least come in third place, at least make some money for Omega. Kathy won the cooking contest. I haven't contributed anything."

Penny felt very sorry for her. "Well, heck, you can take my place in the dunking booth!" It was a very generous offer as quite a bit of money could be made there.

In Dunk-a-Wench a contestant is allowed to throw three softballs at a small round target about 20 yards away. It wasn't that easy of a task, and each set of balls cost 25 dollars, twenty of which would go to the association she represented.

"Penny, that's so sweet of you, but I know how much you were looking forward to that."

Penny laughed. "Yeah, right, I was looking forward to sitting on some swing while guys try to knock me into a tub of water. C'mon, just take my place. You're so much prettier than me. You'll get a lot more contestants."

"Penny, now that's just not true."

"Hush now, Shelley, don't be so modest. It was no accident you were selected to represent us in the beauty contest. Now, c'mon. Miss Wormer in fact needs me to help finish setting up the kissing booth for Stacie."

Shelley though did have one rather serious concern. "Yes, well, I'm clearly not dressed for a swim."

Penny laughed. "Don't be silly. No girl ever falls in. The target is real small and the catch spring is pretty stiff. Even if some guy hits the target it won't drop you in. And, if you fall in then it's over. They don't want that to happen."

"Oh." Those were good points, and Penny ought to know. She had looked into it. "Well, alright then, I'll do it!"

"Oh that's so wonderful! I know you'll make us lots of money! Now, I've got to get back to Miss Wormer. You have fun now!"

Shelley was feeling better and strode off to the Dunk-a-Wench booths.

There were three booths, which consisted of three large clear plastic tubs of water, set inside a cage, above which three "wenches" sat on a swing. The target was outside the cage, sticking out from its left side. Much to Shelley's disappointment there was again her nemesis, Lexi Belle and, not surprisingly, Lexi already had a very, very long line of contestants. Shelley felt that Lexi really should have excused herself from the dunking contest, having already won the beauty contest. But, it did always seem like the girls of Delta Nu never lost an opportunity to demonstrate their community spirit, their popularity, and, it seems as well, their bosoms, the thought of that alone made Shelley's face redden. How could this girl be so shameful, so wanton?

She introduced herself to Bradley, explaining to him that she was taking Penny's place. She took off her socks and shoes and got onto her swing seat, above the water.

Once in position she again looked over at Lexi, who seemed to be even shaking her boobs at prospective customers, teasing them, daring them to give her, and them, a dunking. Thank goodness, Shelley thought, that the girls had to be at least eighteen, and so did the guys throwing the balls. The way Lexi was behaving it would not be appropriate to have a minor at her cage.

Much to the disappointment of the gathering crowd, though, none of the guys seemed able to hit the target. And, as Penny had suggested, even when they did they didn't seem to hit it hard enough. Lexi gaily laughed, bending forward in her swing, her breasts almost falling from her bodice, begging to be loved, squeezed, groped and, of course, drenched.

Still, it wasn't like there weren't any guys interested in dunking Shelley. She might not be Delta Nu material but she was still awfully pretty, and a few guys took their turn with her as well. It was perhaps much better to have a shot at Shelley than to wait forever to get a shot at Lexi.

Shelley though did get into the fun and spirit of the event. She eventually began to tease and taunt her contestants as well. She wouldn't go so far as to shake her boobies at them, particularly as she was not wearing a brassiere, but she did giggle and laugh at their repeated failures at hitting the target. After a couple of hours she really got into it.

"Pox and pestilence on thee lad!" She would yell, smiling broadly, her little dimples appearing. "What wayward dizzy-eyed pignut be thee?"

She wasn't really that skilled at the dialect but she was at least much better at it than Lexi.

"Thou art an artless, doghearted, mold-warp thee be!"

SPLASH!

Shelley looked over in shock at the booth to her left to see Lexi falling ignominiously into the deep cold tub of water. Did they adjust the spring on her target? How did she fall in? The crowd roared with approval and all eyes turned to the sight of the coed swimming, or more like floundering, in the deep vat of water.

The audience was in fact treated to quite a delightful sight as Lexi labored in the tub, her arms, hands, legs, and breasts wriggling around as she attempted to make her escape up the ladder. As she climbed out from the tub the wet bodice clung very tightly to every little inch of her full, luscious, round breasts. It turned out that loose bodices of the Renaissance rivaled the tight cotton t-shirts of a modern spring break coed, or at least they certainly performed that way on a girl of Delta Nu. It was as if the wet material was more like a thin coating of pale coloring than actual cloth. Every curve, every inch, of Lexi's breasts were clearly discernible, and her nipples had distended to maximum length with the chill of the water.

The sight was perhaps even more enticing than a coed's wet t-shirt given the otherwise modest nature of the attire. It was unlikely that Lexi Belle was terribly embarrassed by the exposure but she knew what the audience preferred to believe, and when she crawled from the tank she squealed with shock and dismay as her soaked boobs came into view through her thin dress, trying desperately to hide them with one hand as she used the other to clumsily extricate herself from the tub.

"Nooooooo! Please!" Lexi protested her exposure with apparent dismay, acting like the mortified maiden, albeit all the while giggling as she grasped tightly onto one boob, giving it a good squeeze, while letting the other breast bobble free for the delightful pleasure of her viewing audience.

Although Lexi was not in fact embarrassed, Shelley certainly was embarrassed for her, if not vicariously for herself. She could even see the outline of Lexi's panties beneath her skirt, as she was apparently not wearing any crinolines or even a chemise. She could not imagine being so shamefully exposed.

Shelley was also surprised to see another girl climbing in to replace her. Penny had been wrong on many accounts. The persons running the booths didn't really care if you fell in as they had another girl ready to take her place. Shelley shook her head. Penny had been so terribly misinformed, perhaps as a ruse to get her to sign up. Miss Wormer will not be pleased to hear about this! She will probably have a very serious discussion with whomever was running this event.

Shelley's eyes widened as she suddenly realized that she was, of course, just as much at risk as Lexi. She wasn't even wearing a brassiere! "Wait! No! Please!" She exclaimed in fright, waving her hands at the guy who was aiming at her target. "No, please, sir, sir, please, you don't understand!"

The man though just smiled, taking her pleas as just another way to tease him.

Thwap! Fortunately the ball missed its target, hitting harmlessly against the background netting.

Shelley turned to Bradley, the student who ran her cage. "Bradley, Bradley! Wait, I've changed my mind!"

"Please, fair maiden, of what dialect dost thee spake?" Sometimes at Renaissance Faires persons pretend not to understand what someone is saying if they were not at least attempting to use the correct dialect.

"No, no! You don't understand!"

Thwap! Another ball landed safely against the net.

Shelley struggled to think of the correct way to speak. "Me change thine mind!"

"What?"

Clang! And the seat upon which Shelley was sitting gave out and she fell down into the deep, cold water.

The immediate shock of the cold wetness was terribly unnerving as Shelley dropped to the bottom of the tank then pushed hard with her feet to force herself back up as quickly as possible, reaching out with her hands for the ladder bolted to the side.

It wasn't that easy climbing up a ladder with many layers of loose clothing completely soaked through with water, but Shelley's motivation was strong and it did not take long for her to clear the surface of the water and pull herself out.

But, as she did so the weight of the water-soaked cotton pulled her top down off her breasts, all the way to her waist, bringing entirely into view her pure, virginal lily white breasts. "Oh my gracious!" Shelley exclaimed, letting go of the ladder with her right hand to try to hide them both. The thin strap around her neck had apparently come undone, perhaps it got caught on the chain or swing seat as she fell into the water. Whatever the reason, what mattered now was that her naked boobs were entirely open to view, much to the pleasure of the screaming audience.

"Please, don't look!" Shelley pleaded, as she grasped her left breast in her right hand, but her hand could cover not much more than the nipple, aureola, and the immediately surrounding area, the rest of her breast was squishing out from beneath her hand. Her forearm was even less concealing of her right breast. Shelley did not have the largest breasts in the world but they could hardly be called small. Shelley had always been quietly rather proud of their size but now bemoaned the full cost of her developed womanliness.

She was faced with a considerable dilemma which did not appear to have any clear solution. She could continue to climb the rest of the way up the ladder and then out of the tub, her water soaked dress hanging precariously around her waist, risking that it might fall down even further, perhaps even bringing with it her crinoline and slip. However, her most immediate concern was to get out of the tub to cover her upper body, and she could not reach down to pull her dress back up without either letting go of the ladder or exposing her breasts.

The difficulty of this decision was not helped by the loud roar and applause of the crowd. Shelley felt like a shameless slut at some gentleman's club, a thought that was really quite mortifying. She supposed that they had such events at one of those clubs. Girls jumping into tubs of water just so their clothes would cling to their bodies and perhaps even fall away from them, just as it had happened to Shelley.

She so hoped that Miss Wormer was not witnessing this. She would be in so much trouble! Miss Wormer was a very strict disciplinarian, and becoming this shamefully exposed in public would be grounds for quite a few demerits, leading in turn to a public spanking Sunday evening. Well, not really public, as only the sisters of Omega Theta Pi were allowed to attend the Sunday meetings. But it was always a very shameful humiliation to be spanked on one's bare bottom before one's Omega sisters.

Of course, though, even if Miss Wormer didn't see her many other persons might. Goodness, imagine if one of her teachers could see her now! Or one of the boys from her classes! She wanted to look around her to check if she recognized anyone in the laughing and applauding crowd but realized that making any eye contact would only further heighten her sense of shame. It was best probably not to know.

She continued up the ladder, which was really quite a struggle with a fully soaked dress, upon which she kept stepping as she struggled to move up each rung.

Just when she reached the top and was about to climb over, with the help of Bradley who was reaching out a hand, the lower part of her dress and slip became entangled on the rung of the ladder beneath her left foot. The rest of her dress gave way and fell off her waist and down to her ankles. With the thin straps now long gone the silk sheath that was serving as her belt proved to be wholly inadequate in holding up the heavily soaked cotton. She was now wearing only her soaked panties.

"Oh my goodness!" Shelley exclaimed in horror and did the only thing she felt she could do. She let go of the ladder to cover her now exposed cunnie as well as her breasts, and fell back into the tub with a big splash.

The crowd was hysterical with joy. It was such a great show. They would probably feel bad, or at least some of them would, if they knew how embarrassing it was for Shelley, but they figured that she was probably just playing along, as Lexi had. In any case, Shelley was clearly putting on a much better show than Lexi.


The Renaissance Faire



Shelley's immediate plan now was to try to pull the dress back up, but despite repeated efforts it became apparent that was impossible. Her dress, crinoline, and slip were a tangled water-soaked mess around her ankles, and it wasn't like she could just stand comfortably on the bottom of the tub of water, holding her breath long enough while she got the dress all the way up to her breasts. Plus, it was very evident that she was giving everybody a very nice little show as she struggled to get the dress up.

Her naked boobs appeared to have a life of their own beneath the water, wriggling and jiggling this way and that. The nipples were standing so tall and pointy, so exited by the intense cold. Plus, her white panties, her very pretty ones with the pink bow at the top, were apparently no better when wet than Lex Belle's top in hiding what should be hidden. She gasped with shock beneath the water as she saw the very clear outline of her cunnie lips through the thin soaked cotton. She reached down with both hands to hide her shame, but then sank back down in the tub.

She gave up on getting dressed, and kicked and kicked and kicked, her boobs floundering as much as her flaying arms, desperately trying to free her ankles and feet from her clothing, now so very heavy. Once free she quickly swam to the ladder to extricate herself from the tub, the cheers and applause of the crowd roaring in her ears as she cleared the surface of the water.

At the ladder she paused only briefly to look back down to the bottom of the tub at her clothes. She could swim back down and grab her clothes, holding them tightly to the front of her body. But, perhaps they would now be too heavy for her to pull out on her own. Plus, she was now only moments away from escape.

She opted for the immediate release from this humiliation. She scampered up the ladder, wearing only her panties. Most of the persons were now treated with the sight of her perky round little bottom, so nicely tightly wrapped in her wet white cotton panties.



The cheers and applause were deafening. Some guys were even yelling out proposals of marriage. Shelley almost smiled at that. Perhaps someday she could look back at this and find it quite funny.

A few persons, Bradley in particular, could see her from the front and that was certainly a much better treat. Water was rushing down her body, her wet wriggling shivering breasts sparkling in the harsh light of the afternoon sun, a long steady stream of water seeming to emanate from the little feminine slit of her pouch between her thighs, providing a rather embarrassing illusion.

A man called out, "Did thee lose control of thine bladder, fair maiden?"

Shelley didn't smile at that remark.

Fortunately, once she reached the top of the ladder Bradley greeted her with a large towel, which he wrapped around her as she swung her foot over the edge of the tub to step out, providing one last glimpse of her most intimate femininity.

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

Perhaps one of the best Renaissance Faire activities in which to make money was the kissing booth. None of the Omega Theta Pi girls though had immediately volunteered to do that. It just didn't seem consistent with their purity pledges, and even those who did not wear purity rings found the whole thought of kissing strangers to be so wrong, if not immoral and repugnant. It was really one step short of prostitution, wasn't it?

But, Miss Wormer convinced the girls that it would all be really quite innocent fun. Heck, there were kissing booths throughout the county fairs during the 1950s. They had all been rather harmless and playful. What was wrong with a brief peck on the cheek, or perhaps even a few on the lips?

Stacie Adams agreed to do it. It was for the good, perhaps even the survival, of the sorority, of Omega Theta Pi.

And, besides, she thought to herself, it really might be kind of fun. She had kissed a few guys in her life, and especially her current boyfriend, Jack. She had kissed him quite a few times, and frankly enjoyed it, albeit she kept that confession to herself. It would not help her reputation, her standing, within the sorority to speak of how warm she felt between her thighs when her boyfriend kissed her, particularly when it was one of those long, sustained kisses. Just thinking about it sometimes made her warm, and even a little moist, which would then make her blush with embarrassment.

Stacie was a purity girl, and no such girl should really enjoy such a thing, should she? Well, Stacie certainly did, and she imagined that a kissing booth might in fact be a way to have her cake and eat it too, so to speak. The more she thought about it, the more she liked it. She could playfully kiss boys without getting a bad reputation, without even violating her purity pledge.

The booths, though, were not like she had imagined they would be, based on what she had seen in a Donna Reed movie. The girls were not to lean out over the edge of the front of the booth to kiss a guy. Instead, the guy would enter the booth from the side and pay the price for a kiss on the fair maiden's hand, her cheek, or, most expensive of all, her lips. Of course, for the right price, the guy might even be able to purchase a very prolonged and sustained kiss. The girl could negotiate with him for more (or less) money, depending upon the request. There were no fixed prices in the Elizabethan period. And, because the fair wanted to protect the reputation of each fair maiden, the girl had the option of drawing a curtain so that the kiss would be private. This might be helpful for the long, sustained kisses. Stacie did appreciate the curtain, although her audience did not. Needless to say, all of the girls and the customers had to be at least eighteen for this event.

It all started innocently enough, although none of the guys wanted to settle just for a kiss on the hand. Stacie was surprised at that. A few did settle for just a kiss on the cheek. They seemed to be the more shy and innocent guys, apparently embarrassed about giving her a kiss in public. When she shut the curtain for one of them he instantly offered her more money for a kiss on the lips.

Stacie at first found the kissing on the lips to be rather embarrassing. A kiss on the lips is rather intimate and at times even provocative, particularly with an audience watching the whole thing, who invariably cheered and applauded with delight. It was though kind of fun putting on a show for the people. It was like being playfully innocent and naughty at the same time, and all for the good of the faire and the sorority.

After awhile Stacie got used to it. It was actually kind of flattering to have all these boys, many of whom were rather good looking, offering her money to just give her a kiss. She never felt so desired, so wanted, so pretty.

Stacie eventually even began to really enjoy it. She did so much like kissing boys, and this was such a good excuse for doing it. Midway through the day she began to so look forward to kissing Jack, her boyfriend that evening. He had not wanted her to do this, but she had convinced him that it really wouldn't hurt her reputation, nor would it mean anything at all. It wasn't like she was kissing them. They were kissing her. It was all just playful, innocent fun, and quite a bit of fun at that.

Stacie could feel that warmth, perhaps even a wetness, developing between her thighs as the day went on. That was rather embarrassing, but nobody, of course, could see it. Nobody would ever know about how much fun this really was for her, not even Jack. She imagined lifting up her skirt to show him how wet she had become, but blushed at the thought of such a wanton act. That would indeed be wrong, and most certainly a violation of the purity pledge. And, besides, she could hardly let him know that her excitement was due to all of the strange guys kissing her.

Most of the guys did just give her brief pecks on the lips. She was surprised though how some of them took the rather brazen opportunity to give her a very long, sustained kiss, some even wrapping an arm around her waist, crushing her body, including her breasts, against them, against their hard masculine chests, as they crushed their lips against hers. Those kisses really got her tingling, down there, and she would typically draw the curtain at some point.

Once the curtain was closed though some guys really took their time kissing her, as if it was going to lead to something else, as if the drawing of the curtain was a signal for something even more intimate and private. Their hands and arms would wrap around her body, pulling her tightly against them.

Sometimes she pushed them away, but sometimes she didn't. Sometimes she would just let herself enjoy it, softly whimpering and sighing within his arms, as if she was in fact being seduced by his deep, intimate, sustained kiss.

She felt a bit flustered after some of them, much to the pleasure of the crowd, who could see, once the curtain was finally reopened, the color in her cheeks, the heaving of her breasts. She might in fact scold the young man for his brazen behavior, but the crowd could tell that she really wasn't angry at all. She was more confused and rattled. She was though getting lots of good tips, her money bucket rapidly filling with bills of a variety of denominations. Miss Wormer was going to be very proud indeed!



One man even had the impudence to press his tongue against her lips! She immediately pushed him away, though, wiping her moistened lips with the back of her hand. "Prithee, begone, thou beast! Thy audacity offendeth me!"

The crowd laughed and applauded the young lady's ability to remain in character, but they were applauding as well the bold move on the part of the young man.

He apologized, and gave her a big tip.

"Oh! Well, thank you, sir. That's most generous of you," momentarily forgetting to use the correct dialect, struck by the fact of how much money she had just gotten. Not only was this fun but she could in fact make quite a bit of money for the sorority, particularly if she let the customer do a bit more than just a peck on the lips.

"Thine sweet lips are worth every farthing, young maiden," he replied.

Stacie blushed.

A few men also tried to place their hands in locations that were clearly off-limits, again taking the drawing of the curtain to imply that such behavior would be acceptable. Stacie invariably took the offending hand firmly in hand and shifted it to her waist. Well, not invariably. She did let one particularly handsome young man, who was also apparently a very good kisser, leave it on her bottom. She surprised even herself at letting him do that, her face beet red when she pulled open the curtain, feeling in fact kind of reluctant to do that, a part of her wishing that perhaps he might continue. And, once again, she was treated with such a nice tip.

One guy she recognized from her biology class, Jeffrey Jones. He took the kissing to a much higher level, or perhaps lower would be the better term. After Stacie presented the prices for her hand, cheek, and lips, he suggested a further option.

He whispered. "Fair maiden, prithee the price of a kiss on my crown?"

"Your crown, prince? I see no crown, sir."

"It is my crown below, fair lass." He glanced out into the crowd, and gestured to his crotch. The window of the booth was at their shoulders. Nobody but Stacie could see his gesture.

But, Stacie most certainly saw it and was, understandably, rather shocked and appalled. "Nay, thou rogue! How dare thee suggest such a thing to a fine maiden!" It was quite impressive that she continued to stay within her role, and she also glanced out toward the crowd. It was embarrassing enough for him to make such a suggestion. It would be far worse if their audience knew what he had meant.

"But, maiden, it is only because thee is such a sweet, fair lass that draws such proposals from my lips."

Stacie abandoned all effort to maintain any resemblance of the dialect. She whispered back, "Well, I think you'd better just forgot about it because it's not going to happen. I'm telling you that right now!"

"Well, don't be mad, Stacie. I just heard from some guys that the girls were offering that as well."

"Why would anybody say such a thing! How could they think such a thing?!"

"Well, I hear Ellie Fox, from Delta Nu, was offering to do it, for like, you know, a big bonus."

"What?!" It was so aggravating what those girls from Delta Nu were willing to do. It was just so totally unfair! Stacie leaned out through the window of her booth to look down toward Ellie's booth. She couldn't see much, other than there was in fact a very impressive line waiting for her kisses. As she did so she felt Jeffrey's hand cup her bottom.

"Jeffrey Jones!" Stacie exclaimed in protest, quickly brushing his hand away, although she had in fact felt a brief moment of excitement at the feel of the boy's hand cupping her soft, round cheeks. "You behave yourself, or I'll tell Professor Humboldt." It wasn't like their biology teacher had any authority over his behavior outside of class, but he was the authority figure that immediately came to Stacie's mind, as they were both in his class.

Jeffrey though would not be denied. Ellie's line was just so long, and he had always found Stacie to be such a very cute girl. He was not about to give up so easily when such a wondrous opportunity appeared to be so very near. He reached down, unzipped his slacks, reached in, and extracted his very stiff, hard erection. "But, fair maiden, see what thou hast done to me? Do you not pity the suffering of this noble prince?"

Stacie's eyes widened in shock at the sight. This was indeed a most impudent lad, to say the least. She quickly pulled the curtain shut, much to the disappointment of the crowd, who groaned and protested. It was though within a maiden's right to seek privacy for a kiss, if that was what she preferred.

"Land sakes, Jeffrey, you put that thing away right now! Are you just like crazy or something?" But, Stacie did not look away. She most certainly would have if her first customer had done this. Actually, she would have run from the booth, but the hours of kissing had awoken something in her, a measure of curiosity perhaps or, at least, that was what she told herself. Her eyes remained fixed on the sight of Jeff's hard, stiff, naked cock. She was mesmerized by the sight. It just looked so manly, so proud, so forceful and impressive. She bit on her lower lip as she contemplated its presence, the warmth between her thighs turning into a heat.

Jeff was encouraged. It had indeed been a risky move, but perhaps one that was defensible given the apparent activities of Ellie Fox. And, Stacie had not reacted in a manner that put an immediate end to his plea. She did not demand that he leave, she did not call for help, nor did she storm out of the booth. She didn't even look away. On the contrary, she was staring at it, and even closing the curtain to provide them with some privacy. "C'mon, Stacie, just a little kiss...I'll even give you fifty dollars." That was a lot of money for Jeff to spend, just for a kiss on his cock. But, he was hoping that it would develop further than that, once she started, or at least that the kiss would be long enough for a happy ending.

"Fifty dollars?" That was indeed an awful lot of money. It would most certainly go far in helping out the sorority. Plus, in the back of her mind, or at least deep down within her loins, Stacie knew she was terribly curious about it. What would it feel like? What would it taste like? But, of course, it was such a terribly, terribly naughty and wrong thing to do. She could feel her face growing warm again at even just contemplating such a thing. Only a Delta Nu slut would do something like that. But, she found that she couldn't take her eyes off of it.

Jeff reached into his pocket and pulled out the money, holding it out for her. "See, I really do have it, and it's all yours, if you want...If you'll..."

Stacie glanced at the money. It did look like quite a lot. Miss Wormer would be very proud of that. None of the other girls would likely raise so much money so quickly. She was so uncertain what she should do. She quietly confessed, "I've never done anything like that before, Jeffrey."

"That's okay. I don't mind," he quickly reassured her, although it wasn't really his reassurance that she was seeking.

Stacie suggested, "What if I just use my hand?" That was a fair compromise, wasn't it? She really couldn't bring herself to kiss it. That just sounded so, so gross. Jack would never ask her to do something like that. Would he? It had to be awfully unsanitary, as well as just plain slutty. Even if she did just use her hand she would want to use some Purell on her fingers when she was done.

Her heart was racing. She was frankly surprised that she even made the offer to touch it, to hold it. Still, she was so, so intrigued, or at least that's what she again told herself. Captivated though might be a more accurate word. It was also good for the faire, for the sorority. It was all for a good cause.

Jeff wasn't disappointed with Stacie wanting to just her hand. Just that would still be fantastic. It was considerably less than her mouth, but it was perhaps unrealistic to expect her to really kiss it. Heck, a hand job from a girl wearing a purity ring was still pretty darned cool! "Sure! That would be fine...like, um, great."

"For fifty?" Stacie asked. It was perhaps best to be very clear on the price. She would assume that Miss Wormer wouldn't want her to settle for anything less for something like that.

Jeff wondered if he should try to bargain her down. That would seem only fair. A hand job should cost considerably less than a blow job. But, a bird in the hand was worth a lot and he wasn't about to risk losing what he had just got. "Oh yeah, sure, sure."

Well, Stacie thought, how could she say no now? She had probably struck a pretty darned good bargain. Ellie Fox was probably charging a lot less than fifty dollars, the slut. "Alright then," she agreed, albeit the reluctance, her ambivalence, was quite evident in her voice.

She reached out with her right hand but then pulled it back. "You won't tell anyone I did this, will you?"

"Oh no, no, definitely not," he agreed.

"You better not." She gave him her most stern and threatening look.

"I promise, Stacie, really I do."

She took a deep breath, reached out again with her right hand and grasped hold of the stiff, hard shaft. "Oh my," she softly exclaimed as her fingers made contact, skin on skin. She was so surprised. It just felt so strangely wonderful, so natural, so exciting. A big smile swept over her face. She was finally doing it! She was actually holding onto a guy's naked stiff erection! And, it just felt so great, so strong, so sexy.

A twinge of guilt, of doubt, crept into her mind. Shouldn't this really be Jack's penis? Wasn't it wrong to be touching another boy's? But, she quickly brushed the doubt aside. If it was Jack's it would then in fact be wrong, as it would be a clear violation of her purity pledge. This was just for the faire, for the sorority. It wasn't like real sex or anything. Just as Miss Wormer had said, the kisses weren't real kisses, and so this isn't like a real hand job. Her face blushed at the thought of whether Jack's would be as big and hard as Jeffrey's. She sure hoped it would.

And, she was so impressed at how hard it really was. It was like a steel rod. How does a boy do that, she wondered. She felt another bit of warmth course through her cheeks as she recalled how often she had touched Jack's hard, stiff biceps. She probably would never be able to do that again without thinking about his erection.

As she brought the fingers of her other hand to the crown, she was equally impressed at how soft and smooth this part was, and so shiny. She gently squeezed the shaft with her right hand and slid her fist up and down as she softly caressed the crown with the fingers of her left. She timidly whispered, "Is that how guys like it?"




The Renaissance Faire



"Oh yes," Jeff gasped. He was ecstatic. He had always found Stacie so sexy, so desirable. She was more cute than beautiful but that was also what made her so sexy, so alluring. Her innocent demeanor only furthered his interest, his desire, and here she now was, stroking his dick with her soft, little innocent feminine fingers. "Oh Stacie, that's so, so good."

Stacie looked into Jeffrey's lust-filled eyes. "You really like it?" 

"Oh man, yes. It feels so fucking good," he gasped.

"Hush," Stacie scolded him. She halted her stroking. "Don't talk like that, now. That's very dirty and wrong." She really didn't like foul language. "I'll just stop if you use another word like that."

"Oh gosh, yes, Stacie. I'm sorry. I really am. I won't do that again. I promise."

"Well, okay," she replied, accepting the boy's apology. She resuming her stroking. She didn't really want to stop now anyway. She wanted to see what happens when he finishes. Her heart fluttered as she thought about that.

She began to stroke him more vigorously, but again asserted, "You promise you won't tell anyone." If it got around that she used her hand on a guy's penis that would most certainly damage her reputation, even if it was a for a good cause, and was just innocent and playful, and everything.

"No, no," he reassured her. He would only tell his friends.

"It's not like we're really having sex, you know," she reassured him or, more accurately, herself, as she again tickled the knob with her fingers, feeling some slippery moisture leaking out the tip.

"No, no, it's not," he again asserted, his voice now a bit breathless. As far as he was concerned she could call it anything she wanted.

"I'm just doing this to help with the sorority, you know," she explained as she worked his fluid into his smooth, soft, shiny crown, her fist still working on the shaft. She realized that she better make this end soon as it would be one long kiss indeed.

Jeff began to subtly thrust his hips forward, gently fucking her fist with his cock as she continued to stroke him.

"Goodness," Stacie softly exclaimed, as she noticed the boy thrusting his thing in and out of her fist. This was beginning to look, and feel, a bit more like sex, like dirty sex. But, there was certainly no turning back now, and she matched his thrusts with her pounding fist.

"Are you going to do it?" She asked, politely, and encouragingly. She could feel her heart rate accelerating with the anticipation of what was about to happen.

"Almost there," he gasped, steadying himself by placing a hand on her shoulder, wanting so much instead to grasp hold of her breast. It only felt right and natural to do so, but he knew that she would likely be offended by that. He could feel that wonderful sensation of increasing pressure, the feeling that something ecstatic was about to happen and that he simply could not stop it.

"Yes," he gasped, bent forward, and felt his climax sweep over him, his dick jerking in the girl's hand, and then spitting forth a big wet glob of thick cum.

"Oh my goodness," Stacie exclaimed as she felt the thick hard penis twitch and swell within her fist, and then suddenly squirt out a glob of his gism, and right onto the front of her nice fresh and clean white maiden's dress.

Stacie's initial impulse was to try to stop it, as if one could in fact halt it by plugging the hole with her thumb, but she was also terribly curious and intrigued by the sight. It looked so awfully excited and happy, like it was literally bursting with joy. She could most certainly see that Jeff really liked it. He had such a blissful smile on his face, but her eyes stayed most closely fixed on the squirting, blasting, spraying crown. It just kept going! He seemed to have so much of stuff!

"Goodness, Jeffrey," she exclaimed. "When are you going to stop?" His penis just kept spitting and spouting globs and ropes of cum, all splashing down across the front of her dress.

Jeff hoped never. Was there a better experience, a better feeling in life, other than an orgasm? Perhaps there was, but you could not convince Jeffrey of that at the moment. Plus, it was such a nice fantasy come true, cumming at the hand of the cute, innocent Stacie. Perhaps nobody would in fact ever really believe this unless, of course, they got her to do it for them as well. But, Jeff was already thinking of trying to get some more money to do it again later, real soon later.

He did though, of course, eventually stop.

Stacie squeezed out the last remaining drops. That seemed like the natural, appropriate thing to do. She even held out her dress to catch them. She didn't want to make a mess of the booth. Miss Wormer would most certainly disapprove of that, particularly if she knew what it was. But, of course, that only caused her to become more fully aware of what might perhaps be a bigger problem. "Jeffrey, jeepers, look at what a mess you made on my dress!"

"Oh, yeah," Jeff timidly admitted. He did feel bad about that, and he had no idea what to do about it, his mind in somewhat of a confused fog as he slipped his slackening dick back into his underwear and slacks.

Stacie reached into her purse, pulled out her handkerchief, and tried to wipe it off. She was able to get some of it. She was surprised, though, how thick and viscous it was.

"You can hardly notice it, Stacie, really," Jeff suggested. "I mean with your dress being white and everything. You can just say that some guy spilled his drink on you while you were kissing him."

"I don't know," Stacie replied, still trying to clean it off, but it wasn't actually a bad suggestion, and was in fact close to the truth.

"Well, um, I guess I better go," Jeff further suggested, and quickly extricated himself from the booth.

Just like her mother had once warned her, Stacie thought. Once the boy has his pleasure he is out the door. But, she didn't really mind as she was a little embarrassed at having him watch her as she tried to dab up and wipe off his ejaculation. Plus, she had been curious about one thing.

She brought the handkerchief to her nose, and took a cautious, tentative sniff.

"Goodness," she said softly, to nobody in particular. She was surprised at how nice it smelled. It didn't stink at all. In fact, it was a kind of a nice fresh, fruity aroma. She smiled as she slipped the handkerchief into a pocket and pulled the curtain open, signaling that she was back in business.

She was greeted by a burst of applause, along with many shouts as to why the privacy for so long. It actually hadn't been that long, but for a kiss it was probably pretty long. Stacie's face again turned red, wondering if anyone knew what she had just done. But, she also see saw an opportunity.

"If thee be curious as to the services of this fair lass, please, come, enter my booth and I shall provide thee with a maiden's kiss."

Her line quickly grew. It wasn't that anyone had any real thought that she was doing anything inappropriate. The Renaissance Faire management would certainly not care for that, and most certainly would not the local police. Plus, Stacie did appear very much like the innocent maiden. But, there was really something quite appealing, quite titillating, about kissing such a sweet, pure girl, and apparently she provided a very nice, full, sustained kiss that she wanted privacy in doing so. It would be well worth the fee.

For some time that was in fact all that Stacie did, and much of the time pulling the curtain shut as she had done for Jeffrey. She was now really enjoying the kisses, each time wondering what the guy's penis might look like, might feel like, perhaps even wondering what it might taste like. She imagined that there must be lots of differences between them. None of the guys though were asking for more than a kiss, much to her relief and frustration.

The aroma of the cum did not prove to be a problem. She explained that it was a natural fruity perfume commonly worn by the ladies of the Elizabethan period. She knew, of course, the truth, and it only made her all the more titillated, perhaps even, dare she say, lustful, as she gave another guy a full, deep, sustained kiss, pressing her body, her breasts, against his manly, tight chest, breathing in the scent of Jeffrey's cum.

She did wonder if any of these young, and older, men wanted more than just a kiss. But, she wasn't about to just come out and ask. It kind of felt like being a prostitute or something, and even if just one guy got upset and told on her she would probably get into quite serious trouble.

She did, though, come up with a plan, inspired by a rather special customer, Mr. Humboldt, the biology professor.

She smiled coquettishly at the professor as he entered the booth, tilted her head, closed the curtain, and greeted him by saying, "Mr. Humboldt, have you come to kiss the fair maiden's pretty lips?"

It was very evident though that the professor felt rather awkward about being in the booth with the young undergraduate. He very much appreciated Stacie closing the curtain. He wasn't at all sure that the Dean of Livingston College would approve of such a thing if he happened to walk by, and who knows who else might be out there. But, even with the curtain closed he could not bring himself to ask for much.

"Stacie, yes, um, well, perhaps I shall have a kiss on the back of your hand?" Even doing just that made him feel uncomfortable. You really shouldn't be kissing your students! Not even anywhere on their bodies. He could feel himself getting erect at being within such an intimate moment and place with the pretty little Stacie, and feeling quite guilty over that.

The professor had long admired Stacie's allure within the class, her lovely little legs beneath her desk, her perky firm breasts above her desk, and her gay, innocent, sweet smiles. He did though feel like quite the jerk, if not the pervert, for finding her so attractive. When he saw her within the kissing booth he knew he had to do it. It was an opportunity that would never come again, but now that he was here, in the small private enclosure, he opted for just a quick peck on the back of her hand.

"Oh, but sir, no, no. For only a few more farthings I could give you a kiss on the lips." She dropped the dialect.

"Oh, I just don't think that would be right, Stacie, you being one of my students...and everything." He didn't add that their striking differences in age was another problem, as he didn't really want to openly acknowledge that.

Stacie giggled at the professor's evident nervousness. "Oh, Professor Humboldt, don't be silly. It's all just innocent fun, and I'm finding that I'm kind of liking it, giving all these handsome guys, and men, a nice big kiss. You're certainly a very handsome man yourself, Professor Humboldt."

The professor had to smile at that. Flattery will get you everywhere.

"Don't you want to give me a kiss too?"

He wanted to do a lot more than that, which was his problem. His face reddened as he admitted, "Well, yes, certainly. I would not be adverse to, um...that."

"Of course not, silly. Now come here and give me a big kiss. It's the least I can do for you being such a good teacher!" She reached out and pulled the man toward her, even pressing her body, her breasts, against him.

Professor Humboldt sighed with deep satisfaction as he felt the young lady's lips against his own, and those round, soft perky breasts pressing so hard against his chest. He knew what he would be thinking about that evening, as he pulled out his cock from his pajama bottoms. Even a professor does have to take care of himself.

It was at this moment that Stacie had her inspiration. She pressed her thigh in between the professor's legs, against his crotch, and quickly discovered that he was indeed enjoying this kiss very, very much. She broke away to look up into his eyes with her own large round green eyes to say, "Professor Humboldt, my goodness, you're all excited, aren't you, sir."

"Oh gosh! No! No!" He quickly covered himself with his hands. "I'm so sorry, Stacie! Please!"

"Oh professor, no, no, don't feel that way," Stacie tried to reassure him.

"Honestly, dear. I really am sorry. Here, I'll give you something extra, just don't tell anyone, please." He reached back for his wallet, but found it rather difficult to try to extract it while still using his other hand to keep the source of his embarrassment hidden.

"But, professor, you can't leave the booth like that!" Stacie exclaimed, pointing at what was hidden behind his hand.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, um." He turned away from her. "Just give me a second." It wouldn't take long for it to go back down. Embarrassment and anxiety can have that effect.

"Will you let me see it, Professor Humboldt?"

"What?" That kind of comment wasn't going to help it go down. His dick in fact swelled back up to full strength, wanting very much to show itself to Stacie. It was really pushing out his boxers and slacks.

"I did always wonder what it looked like." That was only half-true. She hadn't ever wondered what Professor Humboldt's penis looked like, but she had wondered about other guys, and she was quite sincerely interested now in what it looked like.

Professor Humboldt was shocked. This girl, this innocent sweet thing, had been wondering what his cock looked like? This was so very, very wrong, and even perhaps dangerous. 

Stacie didn't wait for a reply, if one was in fact coming. "Nobody will know, Professor Humboldt. It's just the two of his in here." She boldly reached out, pulled away his hand with her left hand, and lightly traced the tips of her fingers of her right hand up and down the bulge. "Oh my," she whispered as she again snuggled up close to him. "I think you must have a really, really big one."

Stacie's behavior was quite surprising to the professor and to herself. But, her feelings had been so stirred and heated for quite some time with all that kissing, and with her experience with Jeffrey. It was also true that they were all alone and nobody would know.

He still didn't say anything. The professor didn't really want to say yes or no.

Stacie slowly pulled down the professor's zipper. The sound of the metal gradually opening was rather telling and, to the both of them, kind of loud, at least contrasting with the silence within the small booth, contrasting with the noise of the crowd through the curtain.

Once the zipper was down she stepped back, her feelings of awkwardness and uncertainty momentarily overtaking her. "Um, would you get it out for me...sir?" She felt like she was asking him to open a door for her, as any gentleman would, but it was clearly a lot more than that.

Well, the professor felt, it appears that the decision had now been made. He reached into his boxers and pulled out his stiff dick for the student.

Stacie covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes opening up wide with surprise, shock, and delight. "My goodness, Professor Humboldt, you really do have a really, really big one!"

Professor Humboldt was indeed a bit larger than average, and to the inexperienced Stacie, who had previously seen just one, it did look quite huge.

The professor smiled with satisfaction. Students never seemed to be terribly impressed by him. It was a great accomplishment to have a Ph.D., to have gotten a job at the prestigious Livingston College. Yet, they provided him with no more respect than they would a high school teacher. Well, Stacie's admiration of his thick, hefty hard cock made up for quite a bit of that disappointment.

Stacie's heart was racing. She knew what she wanted to do. She just didn't know if she could bring herself to say it. But, her nostrils were still filling with the scent of Jeffrey's cum. She was perhaps intoxicated, if not inspired, by the toxic aroma. She was ready. She would do it. She said very quietly, very softly, "Would it be alright if I kissed it, Professor Humboldt?"

The professor glanced around. There were no apparent gaps in the curtain. They were indeed alone. There didn't appear to be any cameras. He replied, almost as quietly, "Yes, yes that would be fine, Stacie," his dick feeling like it wanted to stretch right out of its skin.

Stacie reached out and took hold of the professor's thick stiff cock. She smiled at him, and at the feel of the man's dick in her hand. Her second one in her life, and the second one that day! She knew she would forever remember this day, exploring a man's cock yet maintaining her vow of purity. It was really quite wonderful.

"You won't tell anyone I did this, will you, sir?" She felt comfortable about what she was doing, or at least mostly so, but she wasn't so sure that her sorority sisters, particularly those who had also pledged their purity, would agree. It would be best not to make it a point of discussion.

Stacie knelt down before the professor and closely studied his cock. Her eyes were just inches away and she could now give it a real good inspection. It was also even more impressive this close. The knob was just so big and shiny. It was like a big tasty plum perched atop a meaty shaft. Her tongue slid across her upper lip. She so much wondered what it would taste like.

It did have a very intriguing scent, a sort of musky, earthy aroma. She was pleasantly surprised at that. She would have thought that the smell would be rather unpleasant, if not stinky. After all, he pees through the thing, and guys aren't known for being particularly big on washing and smelling nice.

How many guys in fact actually wear cologne, she wondered. Certainly far less compared to the number of girls who wear perfume. Heck, there were even feminine perfumes, for down there, but she had to admit that she didn't use any such perfume herself, as there was no real reason to do so. It wasn't like Jack was going to sniff her down there. Still, why not make a cologne for a guy down there as well? Lots of girl friends will stick their noses in there, as she was doing right now herself. She placed her nose right up against the tip and breathed in deeply. She sighed with pleasure at the aroma. She wondered, maybe a guy doesn't really need cologne, for down there.

"You know, Professor Humboldt," Stacie explained, looking up at him, "I should let you know that I've never done this before."

The professor looked down into those large pretty green eyes, looking up at him from behind his long, thick dick. There was something that was really quite fetching about a girl's pretty smiling face, framed behind a man's hard, stiff dick.

He was surprised though to hear of Stacie's inexperience, but perhaps he shouldn't be. He had noticed the purity ring. His cock was to be her first? A strong sense of doubt and guilt returned. "Are you really sure you want to do this?"

Stacie gave him a reassuring smile as she wrapped her fingers around the shaft. "It kind of makes sense, doesn't it, Mr. Humboldt? You being an older man, and even a professor. It's like I'm in class or something, and you're the teacher."

He wasn't so sure it made any sense at all, but it sure did feel awfully good. In fact, he felt already on the verge of cumming as he watched the girl lean forward to plant a firm kiss on the very tip of his knob.

Stacie felt her heart race and her face flush red as her lips touched the man's cock. She was really doing it. She was kissing a guy's penis. She couldn't imagine what her mother would think right now if she saw her. What would her sorority sister's think? They would most certainly be shocked, but she wondered if they would also be rather jealous as well. Purity girls aren't necessarily disinterested in sex. They're just denying themselves the pleasure.

Stacie planted a series of kisses all over the man's cock. The professor smiled. She could do a lot more things with her lips besides little kisses, things that would provide him with more intense tactile pleasure, but perhaps not more visual pleasure. She just looked so very adorable kissing him all over like that, like she loved his cock with all her heart and so much wanted him to know it.




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!




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.