Message-ID: <15941eli$9810040534@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: jewelie@my-dejanews.com Subject: Renfaire 96, Pt. 1, D/s F/M BD FD TV SP TK XYZ ETC 0Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <6v75o7$sa9$1@nnrp1.dejanews.com> [Author's note: I have never been to a Renfaire or any SCA activity whatsoever. If you have, that is the explanation of the oddities in this story -- at least those kinds of oddities. :) Please consider this a Renfaire in an alternate universe. How is that for suspending disbelief?] Renfaire 96 by JW (c) 1998 Introduction This was our second Renfaire since meeting a bit over a year ago. It started in a chat room just for meeting people. The topic was, "If you could have any job in the world, what would it be?" In a moment of brilliant honesty, I said, "Bondage model. But I don't have the legs for it." We were in private chat immediately. Sally and I were the perfect match, alike in mind and tastes in most areas including in sex. She loved bondage and spanking but only really liked sex with men but for her the surrender of the D/s lifestyle required a woman. Or a man dressed as a woman which was the idea she had been toying with for some time. She didn't like the men she had talked to about it she told me although there were plenty of takers on the idea. It was not until after our first two meetings that she told me why. They were not submissive at all. They were just going about being predatory in a backward manner as she put it. I had seen that myself, the "beat me or else" attitude I called it. I preferred living in women's clothes. To me the submissive role was more of a romantic idea. It was something that just happened to have sex involved if it worked out right. It was something for expressing love, not for living as a simpering little girl. I was modestly well off, having fortuitously made my wealth earlier than most. My income was well secured by the national debt. But what that really meant to me was that if my dressing habits were splashed as headlines around the world, I need only shrug. It would make no change in my life, except perhaps a flood of "interesting" offers from strangers. Sally was a corporate attorney. A comfortable income, regular hours and with a laid back company. In any event we were far from their most unusual couple. I was introduced to a pre-op at an office party. We chatted a bit on finding well fitting clothes. It was much easier for him on hormones than for me. Sally had to find a seamstress for me. All in all, we were a match made in heaven. More on us in a later story. Now on with the story of Renfaire 96. PART I And we went to our second Renfaire. Renaissance Faire or sometimes Festival. Costuming isn't compulsory but it is recommended and encouraged. And unlike Halloween parties they go on for days and nights some times several weekends in a row, days of being in costume. At our first Renfaire, we had not been not costumed just enjoying something new together. For both of us it was our first time. It was one of those things we had always sworn to do but never got around to doing on our own. At that one Sally had pointed out the women in leggings and the men in kilts and suggested this scene had potential. Now this was our second Faire and Sally had made arrangements the previous year for us to be much a part of it. Over the year I was to learn many things from Sally, dressing for the occasion was one of them. That was something that had never quite settled in on my everyday thinking until her. We spent most of the morning dressing and mostly her dressing me. She loved doing it as much as I loved her doing it. Some times we had an entire evening of foreplay with me as here "barbie doll," dressing and undressing me; changing my makeup and styles; coaching my walking, talking and body language. She drove of course and we stopped at a burger place drive through for a quick lunch. Until this day, I had only been dressed in public at night and among friends. This was my coming out party so to speak. Yes, it did feel very odd sitting in the car wearing a floor length satin gown with mutton sleeves, a long scarf draped over my loosely curled, long blond hair and trying to look pretty. What little I could claim to being even a cut above homely was all due to Sally's makeup skill, something that a touch of colorblindness kept from me achieving. That I was supposed to be in costume made it easier. I was more excited than nervous. And the horror of horrors did happen. Stopped at a light, a cop did pull up next to us and did look quizzically at me. I smiled, shrugged and gestured to Sally to my left in her costume. He laughed and turned his attention back to the street for serious offenders like running yellow lights. As we entered the grounds and parked it was time for my big moment. Sally (I reminded myself then that he was a he and named Robin for the day) took my hands and lightly kissed my cheek -- makeup you know. "We'll be fine," she whispered. I didn't have to have that encouragement but it was something extra for me to get over the next big step, getting out of the car. Robin came around and opened the door for me. I gave "him" my hand and used it to pull myself around and gather my skirt and petticoats over the doorsill and stand erect with both feet firmly on the ground. Practice, practice, practice until it is second nature. I adjusted my long chiffon headscarf so it again wrapped softly under my face and draped gently front and back. We headed for the park entrance. It was much different walking here than walking around the house. Here the breeze tugged at my skirts and long headscarf. It was a strange feeling to have the scarf actually in the wind some three feet to my left. My thigh-hi silk stockings, held up by ribbons tied just below my knees, were brushed by grass. People passed close and brushed my skirts, getting my attention without intending to do so. I had to lift them over odd steps and such to avoid tripping. Quite unique and different. We drew many a stare upon entering. And we also drew the attention of the Sheriff of the Faire. He looked us over intensely before approaching us. Here was the test of all tests. To see if our story would work for us or against us. "Pray tell, what are these unusual, even unseemly, costumes," he asked addressing neither of us directly, glancing back and forth hoping for an answer. "There are certain rules we must enforce and at our discretion. My apologies in advance if I must ask you to change before you may return." Sally responded. "As you can see, I am now Robin of Locksley and this is now the Maid Marian. We have suffered a terrible fate. While being pursued by Prince John's men we became lost in the forest and stumbled across the great wizard, Merlin. And he was very sore angry and very sore to boot and booted too." "Simply because the stumbled across him?" inquired the Sheriff, a very questioning expression on his face, not making sense of the rest. "Quite literally, I am afraid. I, or rather Robin, who is now the Maid Marian you see next to me, tripped over him while running." "Was that so bad? Certainly he could excuse that. He is the great Merlin." "Merlin was lying upon his side at the time taking an afternoon nap in the glen. Mi'Lady's, rather Robin's, his or hers, whomever's, booted toe tripped upon a certain part of Merlin's anatomy of which Merlin vowed he was exceptionally fond. As he awoke he doubled over and uttered such words as we have never heard." "I would too," commented the Sheriff. "You miss my meaning. I am familiar with such words as men speak. These were words such as mortal men do not speak." "A spell then, perhaps a curse as wizards speak." "Ay, that it was. There was immediately a curse upon us. And we became was you see us now." "Certainly Merlin is not an evil wizard. He would remove such a curse," opined the Sheriff. "That he would and said as much when his breath returned many, many long moments later. But to remove this curse requires a task of learning, of seeking knowledge and that is what brings us today to your fair Faire." "And what be this task?" "That Robin, who is now the Maid, learn what maids learn in the public life of these times. And that I help her to learn." "Then in search of that knowledge, I grant ye both the leave of the Faire. But I bid you, tell all who inquire of your story and," hushed, "keep it toned down for the kids here." As we began to wander the Faire, I smiled at Sally. "Well delivered, my Robin. Your story had gained us run of the Faire." I offered my hand to Robin. "I thank you, dear Marian," taking my hand and kissing it gently. "Hold still and let me straighten your scarf. The wind is getting to it." She produced a couple of bobby pins and discreetly fixed it in place. I made a note to add that to my inventory of "emergency" items to have in my purse at all times. Our costumes were all Sally's invention and created by Ruth, a seamstress we met at the previous year's Faire. We had waited the year to show them off. Sally wore the classic Erol Flynn version of Robin Hood, the green clothing, leotards, the peaked hat with feather. And I, a sky blue satin gown covering four petticoats for fullness. It came up to my neck covering my ample D breastforms. The bodice was laced snugly. A white ruffled insert simulated my cleavage. Its sleeves were full length mutton chop style. They were full and puffy and they came off my shoulders. By the time they reached my elbows they had tapered to skin tight. A small extention from each went over the back of my hand and was held in place by a loop over my middle finger. Early after we met Sally had convinced me to dye and perm my hair and she lovingly had done it for me. Today it paid off more than ever before. My face was framed by a mass of loose, soft, blond curls draping down over my "breasts" in front and down my back. A long white chiffon scarf was draped over my head and crossed under my chin to the left. One end falling in front of me, the other end down my back. If my scarf were removed matching blue ribbon bows with streamers would be seen to decorate my hair. I may not have been stunning but I was feeling everything a stunning woman would feel and do. And on top of it all, I was quite modestly dressed for a maid. But far from maidenly thoughts danced through my head when thinking of my Robin. As we walked, she would address the curious by announcing the curse of Merlin. We had developed the story thoroughly but as the curious asked questions, Sally, that is Robin, embellished it in line with the questioning. Within an hour of wandering the Faire, people would approach us with 'ye be the ones under the curse' and the like. Now we would not have to answer so many questions as Sally guided us towards the next step, my public learning. She had said I would learn today what it was like to be a woman in an unfamiliar and strange public place. She had talked around it, being alone in the crowd, needing someone. It was exciting but she had refused to tell me how she planned for me to learn all this. "Bailiff," Robin spoke heartily, "I would make use of your pillory for a good leave time." The time had come for me and it looked like a harmless enough start. "And ye shall have it, Robin of Locksley, to restore yourself and your maid." It was a very sturdy pillory, two inch thick timbers to hold me in place, a six by six holding it above the ground, all very nicely finished. There were two other ones already occupied by girls but not in costume just shorts. They appeared to be enjoying themselves, smiling and joking. Sally removed my head scarf, "Place her then." I was shocked with that having expected Sally to deal with me. Two men easily larger than me took my wrists and for a moment I froze to resist. Sally quickly leaned forward to kiss my cheek. "This is for you, my Marian." And I allowed myself to be lead without resistance to the middle pillory by those men. They were into the scene. I was being assured by them, "Be calm, Maid, it is for your own good and only for a little while." I was treated as any woman would be treated. There was a gentle pressure on the back of my neck. The bearded one eased me into the center depression. The other went to the front and gently moved my hair so that it hung in front, long and blond, nearly a foot below my face. Sally had taught me to properly care for it. The man behind took one wrist and moved it to the depression for it. "Calm lass, cooperate and it will soon be over." I voluntarily put my wrist in the other depresssion. "Good for ye, lass. Ye show courage." The top piece with the matching half circles was lowered into place and large iron locks put through hasps and clicked shut. The man in front, bowed to Robin and handed her the key, "Ye now have the key to the maid's release." And for me, I was sort of frozen, pretending that nothing had really happened when there was a sharp sting in my backside. I yelped and tried to turn to see who did it and I could not move at all. The crowd laughed and I realized I was locked in place until Sally released me. I tried to laugh a little with the crowd but it was a bit of a nervous laugh. I looked at the girl to my right and realized that was the way she was laughing. I caught her eyes and she looked at my sympathetically and I tried to return it. I understood her better at that point than I could ever have imagined. I had learned something ... But I was still in my gown ... and I caught myself getting to far into the scene. Then Robin addressed the crowd. "It appears the Maid is in need of learning of the punishment of the pillory ..." and with that went around back of me out of my sight. And I felt my gown and petticoats being raised and tucked and bunched into my waistband. "Sal ... ROBIN!! This was not part of it." "Hush, Marian, this is for both of us." This was for creative anachronism so all she exposed were white silk bloomers going down to the middle of my thighs. I still believe it was only public nudity laws that saved me from worse that day. A slight breeze made its ruffles and lace trim flutter against my legs and the loose bloomers furl against my skin. My legs were cooler now with the hot skirts out of the way. I got to wondering how women ever put up with long skirts in the summer and learned another thing. They do put up with what is required of them. Certainly I did to, I thought. Hmmm ... put up with was not quite it, more like change it, make it right. I only put up with it as long as necessary. "Would ye bailiffs be so kind as to lend me assistance?" Sally spoke in her deepest, heartiest voice. Again I attempted to bolt upright but moved scarely at all. I remained silent this time, trusting my Sally. She knew I had no interest in men. I found the idea distasteful. "While I apply this switch to the Maid's fair sit spot ... " I must have gotten a strange expression on my face as the small crowd in front of me erupted in laughter " ... I would have you advise me if you feel the welts are too severe for such a tender maid." How could they when my butt was covered? I cringed again as the possibilities flashed through my mind and there was more laughter from the crowd. A growing crowd I might add. "Our pleasure, Robin." I could hear the chuckling in their voices. Then quickly a swish and crack. I yelped in the high pitched voice Sally had trained into me. Again the crowd laughed and the crowd grew larger. I had attracted attention. After a moment I found I was tensed for another cut and willed myself to relax. I felt two hands running over where the switch had struck. They were not Sally's hands. I felt a burst of anger and tried to stand again with no better luck. I tried to pull away but there was no place for me to move. Finally, I accepted and blushed deeply, I didn't want to be touched by men. "Hardly a welt at all, Robin. Certainly she can take harder blows." "Ay," the other male voice agreed. Some in the men in the crowd began shouting words like 'harder' and 'more.' I never felt more alone then than ever before. Here was a crowd of total strangers, men whose thought should be to help a maid in such distress, wanting to see me hurt more, encouraging another to hurt me. I looked to my right to see my fellow suffering in the stocks giving a man I assumed her boyfriend a look that could kill and clearly meant, don't get any ideas, buster. There was much I could learn from her expressions. I looked to my left and saw the redhead looking at me with crooked grin that said to me, now you are learning what it is like. Yes, I was and men's hands touching me when I did not want them to touch me. And nothing I could do about it, not one thing. Alone in a crowd, helpless. "I think you are correct, good bailiffs," at least it was her hand touching me this time. A swish and a crack and another yelp and then quickly again and again and again and again. I was hissing through gritted teeth feeling the pain grow to one thick line of pain on the backs of my thighs. As I was catching my breath the hands roughly ran over my thighs. I wiggled and struggled this time, not giving up this time. "Stop touching me, you fucking bastards!" I screamed and it did come out high pitched. Sally's training continued even when I didn't feel like playing the game. One of the bailiffs spoke loudly. "She has a mouth like a house wench rather than a maid. She embarrasses herself and you. Shall we gag her?" "'twould be good," Robin said. The bearded one came around with a rolled white cloth. He held it to my mouth. "Open, maid, 'tis for your own good." I shook my head no and clench my teeth. He stroked my hair (making matters worse) and whispered in my ear, "I'll be gentle with ye." Again I shook my head no. He sighed and spoke to his partner, "Robard, will ye open the maid's mouth for me?" I waited and waited but he didn't come round. I looked to the crowd. The women's eyes were wide. The men were smiling. Something was up. A resounding crack and my backside exploded in fire and I screamed. My eyes filled with tears. I barely noticed when the cloth went between my teeth. "Perhaps now, Maid, ye will learn to do what a bailiff tells ye to do when he tells ye to do it." I was spitting mad now but I could not spit. I could make noise all right and I called him ever name in the book. Not one word was intelligable but I was loud about it. It barely quieted me. I could no longer "embarrass" myself with my language. And it hurt my cheeks. It was only a cleave gag but for real not for TV entertainment. Tied tightly enough that I could not work it out. I had come to hate them for the pain they caused if they were to work. Twisting my head, struggling to reach the gag with my hands. I strained but there was no give in the stocks. I pushed on it till my tongue hurt. It would not budge. I couldn't stop the pain. It was frustrating. I was frustrated. The tears from the pain in my cheeks and the pain in my ass were joined with some of frustration as I gave up. As I was trying to get into my surrendering headspace, I felt another cloth being tied just above my knees. I must have spread my legs in a very unmaidenly manner. And, damn it!, my nose started to itch. Alone in the crowd with everyone working against me, I gave up. I was in my space. I collapsed as well as I could bent over and quietly wept. And my backside lit up again this time with stings all over. Over and over, little points of fire, dozens at a time, over and over again. I let out little screams and yelps each time through a rain of tears and loud sobs. My gag was soaked. My nose was running. I was drooling. I was totally embarrassed. I didn't care. I just waited for it to stop. Finally it did stop and the rough hands were all over my butt and thighs. "I think ye have done the maid to a turn, Sir Robin of Locksley." This time I thought of begging them to stop touching me but it was no use even trying with my gag still painfully in place. I don't think I could have gotten a coherent word passed my sobs even without the gag. I just stood there and cried my eyes out. I wiggled my butt trying to get rid of some of the sting and burn but even the silk felt rough. I don't know if it helped more or hurt more. Women came up from the crowd to comfort me. My hands were held gently and I squeezed for the comfort they offered. Another was running tissues over my cheeks, drying my tears even while they were still flowing. "Can't we take off her gag?" one asked. "Not until she is released completely." replied Robin. And to that I heard a round of "men!" in low, disgusted tones. I nodded my agreement with them and felt another reason to weep for the way I was being treated. Time was gone. I was measuring everything by the depth of my sobs and the small comforts I was given. But they had to leave as their boyfriends felt the excitement was over. Their boyfriends took the women with them. Lots of 'sorries, I have to go' and pecks on the cheek. Some goodbye wipes of my tears and tissues to my nose to blow. I looked up into their eyes and tried to tell them, 'yes, now I do understand why you have to go. Thank you for caring.' I don't know how much time had passed while I was bent over crying, sniffling, trying to get back some of my dignity. Finally Robin came round and untied my gag. I just looked into her eyes, still sniffling a little and begged, "Please scratch my nose." end part I -----------== Posted via Deja News, The Discussion Network ==---------- http://www.dejanews.com/ Search, Read, Discuss, or Start Your Own -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----