AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Standing at the front of the tent, Davis Norman looked like the natural leader of this Medieval circus with his thick, full-muscled body, a sizable beer-belly, and the strength of an ox. I’d seen him throw the hammer in the contests, his toss outdistancing the rest by miles—or so it appeared.
Now, there was not an eye that didn’t stare his way, not a whisper on any man or woman’s breath.
“Seems we have a reckoning, fellows. Time to take a few naughty asses to task.”
The tent teemed with emotion—the women tittering nervously, while the men banged their tankards against the tables.
Davis beat his gavel again. “Quiet, or we’ll never get the punishment underway.”
I heard that loaded word and my entire body quaked, from my tingling neck down to my toes. The feeling did not bypass my ass, which was now feeling a mellow warmth as though it were already burning with desire.
“Four wenches tonight,” he further announced. “Maids Gretchen and Carol, Mistress Lindsey and Lady Fuldaro, come now.” I knew Gretchen and Carol by those names, but Mistress Lindsey as Constance, and Lady Fuldaro as Kate.”
“Maid? Mistress? Lady?” I whispered to KC sitting next to me. I’d heard these names for two days but only hearing them in this formal gathering did I think to ask their meaning.
“Chosen by their husband, or lover.”
“Ah!” I nodded. KC seemed to require my quiet so I shut up and focused on the ceremony at hand, as the four flushed-faced women moved toward the focal point of the room—the empty food table, which had just been cleared of dishes.
Davis gave the women an official nod as they took their places before the room. Gretchen and Connie were both big bosomed and big-assed women. If this was to be a corporal punishment—which I thoroughly expected—there would be plenty of flesh to redden on these two. Carol and Kate were much slimmer, though both had a healthy swagger to their hips and insouciant expressions on their smiling lips. I think they all were enjoying the exhibition, at least at the moment, although I could detect some nervousness underneath their proud exteriors.
“For breaches in general conduct, sassy mouths and less than servile attention to their duties, these four will inaugurate our straps and paddles gentlemen. I want no less than four of you up here to teach them a little humility.”
I quaked even more hearing those words.
A voice called out, “Bare their asses!”
“In good time, Phil,” Davis answered in a firm, quieting voice.
The rustle of anxious energy circling about the gathered seemed to infect everyone present. Even the calm KC Gable was noticeably stirred by what was about to happen.
“Who will administer these beatings?”
Jon Ripplinger, the Faire manager, and a fellow named Jack, who I hardly knew, jumped to their feet and moved directly to the side of the table, where the four women still stood looking out—not appearing particularly threatened by the proceedings.
“Who else, now? Two more,” Davis continued.
I watched a dark-haired fellow who I didn’t know pull deliberately from his chair, and waltz slowly to the front, then gazed at the remaining men in front of me wondering which one would be next. When the chair beside me rattled, I turned, startled, seeing KC rise.
My hand flew to my face, covering my mouth as though I needed to squelch a cry of surprise.
“Asses bare, Ladies and Maids,” Davis ordered as his gallery of disciplinarians stood waiting.
Expectant energy rushed through the crowd—especially rousing as the four women turned around, and untied or raised their skirts—depending on how the skirts were made. Knowing exactly what was expected of them since they’d obviously been through this before, they lay side by side bent over the rough surface of the table and grabbed with their hands for the far side. I’d never seen such an amazing sight as four pairs of generously fleshed ass cheeks appeared in full view of everyone. Each woman had her ankles locked together, which made each ass form into a human rendition of an inverted tulip. The petals from flower to flower were different in hue—looking like one creamy, ivory, white sheet of dimpled skin. I felt myself wanting to touch the quivering surfaces, but of course, that wouldn’t happen.
“Take your turns, gentlemen.”
Jon Ripplinger began, taking a shiny two-foot paddle in his fist. Standing an appropriate distance back, he level the thing on the first behind, giving Carol a half-dozen sharp whacks before moving on to Constance. He took each ass in turn—delivering six smacks to brighten the skin. Then, once having all four women shifting painfully, he started in at random, going from one to the next in no particular order, moving so adroitly that one had to assume that he’d done this deed before. Jack stood next, appearing before the assembly with a leather strap in hand, his palm around the end. Even from where I sat in the furthest corner of the tent, I could see his hand flex and relax as he waited for Jon to step aside.
The ritual seemed to flow in a natural progression that everyone understood. Jack took his turn, letting his strap fly in a fierce cadence of strikes. He was much speedier, but no less efficient covering all these blushing tails with another round of woe. We heard the other women in the tent groan softly commiserating with their agony, while the other men seemed to watch almost detached from the proceedings, cheering silently for their fellows.
With Jack finished, the third man swaggered in the same amiable fashion to appraise the four warmed red bottoms. Having paused the proceedings, the women could rest—rest so much they actually grew restless, moving their weight from one foot to another, and even peering back to see what was going to happen. They knew soon enough, for with a unexpected abruptness no one anticipated, this third fellow pulled a fresh cut switch from his side and with over-hand strikes, laid some nasty weals from ass to ass to ass to ass.
My entire body shuddered hearin
g the cooing, groaning shrieks and cries. Three of them began to dance, their butts jiggling like rippling water. Only Kate seemed to keep her poise, but even she began to do a jig when the determined disciplinarian behind her focused on her ass alone until he got some visible response. Once switching back to take on all four again, the rough fellow completed the round swiftly making certain that these bottoms maintained their vivid color.
KC was last. Funny, how he could wear his calm even in the midst of the unsettled crowd. There was a belt in his hand, much like the one he’d spanked me with before the campfire. But this one was not his own, a borrowed piece of the same thick leather with a good snap and a deathly crackling noise as it hit the end of the table in a practice strike.
