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I didn’t like that thought, but he was right. “Yeah, I guess so. But maybe he’s leaving now.”
***
A day later—after a lot of furious and comfortable fucking we were back on the road. I was happy to be in the wind again, letting it whip my red curls in my face. I was happy inside the unthinking peace with my arms around KC’s middle, my cunt to his leather-clad ass, and my heart beating against his back.
By that time, I had my own leather pants and was feeling deliriously deviant—almost part of his unconventional world. After the spanking, reprimand and this last confession, I was starting to feel free.
A day later, we arrived at the Renaissance Faire.
Chapter Twelve
KC and I had our own tent waiting for us at the Faire—just as KC planned. On the outskirts of a thickly treed woods, which hearkened back to the Sherwood Forest of a child’s imagination; the faire was a place to step back into another world. Gaily-colored tents, stages, areas for Medieval contests, and craft booths like a Renaissance market rambled through the trees. Our tent, as were the others supplied for those hosting this old world escapade, was in a glen some distance from the others—conveniently out of the way for reasons I’d only later learn.
On our arrival, we were greeted by a company of happy revelers, dancers, musicians, vendors and actors—all KC’s friends. I watched as he sparred with the men, and hugged the women who lustily pressed against him as he playfully fondled their bodies. Something in the air suggested carnality—the humid summer, the threat of rain and the tepid temperature
invited arousal. KC was aroused—and so was I. Who wouldn’t be, seeing these delightfully attired creatures in period garb—most notably dressed in long skirts, low-cut peasant blouses and leather cinchers that pressed breasts into full-flowering cleavages? If a nipple popped from its confinement, no one seemed to care. The randy wench might push it back or leave it exposed to tease the roving eye.
These women were like luscious plums with bright faces and bodies scented with oils and fragrant cream. They hugged me warmly. Svelte and sensuous to buxom and robust, I could feel their effect inside my own body.
The counterparts to these Old-world wenches were their brutish bearded fellows—some as generously robust as their women, others tall, staunch, and fierce-looking warriors. They dressed in everything from chain-mail, to leather britches, vests and tights—with long suede boots.
“This is amazing!” I whispered quietly in KC’s ear, after my body had been hugged by a good dozen souls.
“Guess what?” he whispered back, “these ladies aren’t wearing any panties under their skirts.” He snickered and slapped my ass.
That piece of information struck my cunt like lightening. After his saying that, I noticed often through my first day, other fair asses were getting a few good-natured smacks from their men-folk.
I knew this raucous hoot of prurient pleasure would make for a delightful way to spend my summer.
“How many weeks did you say this goes?”
“Three.”
“Looks like lots of fun.”
“More than you know,” he said, eyes twinkling. Swatting my ass for a second time, there was little wondering what he meant; though I was curious about what form our favorite fetish might take in this uncommon atmosphere. Little fears were creeping inside my thoughts, but everyone seemed to be having such fun that I threw the fear away and let myself enjoy the enchanting feast around me. “How about some new clothes?” KC suggested.
Exactly what I needed, I thought staring down at my sleeveless tee shirt and leather pants.
I started with a dress of lavender satin with purple ribbons hanging from the sleeves. The skirt was broad and swishy teasing my ankles as I walked, and I giggled like a little girl. Though, when I looked down to see my breasts, there they were right on top of a corset-like bodice, appearing to float on air, the flesh jiggling and my nipples about to pop into view. “Oh, my! This is something to get used to.”
“I think it’s beautiful,” he exclaimed, “and you did take off your panties?”
“Of course.” He wasn’t whispering, but I was.
“If you start blushing now, Maid Galen, you won’t stop,” he told me.
I blushed anyway.
The satin felt like gentle hands against my skin. It draped my thighs and threatened to get caught inside my ass if I bent over. This costume was for special occasions, KC told me. We bought a second costume for everyday—like the ones worn by the other women at the faire. It consisted of a pale blue skirt, a flowing ivory peasant blouse and a leather bodice piece that was finely tooled with a floral design—and fit quite confiningly around my middle. I wasn’t sure which costume I liked best. Either of them tossed me back inside the fantasies of my youth, cutting dangerously close to older themes of conquered females and brawny men who relished yielding women. I’d first thought that this faire would be a pleasant diversion for my summer—an apt occasion to celebrate my newest liberties. But everything I’d seen so far at the Sword & Tankard Renaissance Faire suggested that my sexual fantasies might get an unexpected workout in this place.
There was nothing overt or sexual in nature happening the first two days of our stay—other than what KC and I enjoyed in the privacy our tent. However, I seemed more ravenous for sex than ever, a fact that didn’t bother KC in the slightest. While he worked on sets and ran the actors through the staged sword fights and jousting tournaments, I talked to the women, made my rounds at the market, and even helped one woman who was embroidering shirts to sell. I liked the quiet, and the peace, and even the subtle sexual climate that wound its way through everything that happened.
On the third night—Thursday, the day before the opening—the company had their own feast in the common tent inside our tiny private village.
Wine, ale, beer and lusty music turned the crowd of two dozen revelers exceptionally raunchy by ten o’clock. I was swimming in the laughter and the ale, KC doing the same, when the sound of a wooden gavel rapping a table suddenly stunned everyone to silence.
“Ladies, gents!” A voice boomed.
