Cum to the Renaissance Faire!

The Adult Festival for Imaginative Anachronism was in its final day, with knights, nobles and serfs, ladies and wenches, royals and commoners feasting on greasy beef ribs and quaffing down grails of heady mead. Minstrals and buskers played their instruments and sang. Jesters and tumblers all around. Cleavage was everywhere, a smorgasbord of bulbous breasts pushed up and over the tops of corsets, presenting pink nipples suggestive of strawberries there for the picking, while swaying cocks peeked out from the folds of colorful robes.

These were all re-enactors, attired in period costume. But the nipples and cocks were real, and belonged to real people!

Amidst all the gaity and frolicking, the music and games, a noisy crowd was gathering around the Queen. The mob was playfully taunting their Queen for not showing enough tit, demanding she reveal at least as much as the busty common women and the small-breasted princesses, all displaying their nipples. She refused, so they forced her to appear before the Offenders' Court, where their demands would be heard. After prevailing on the Queen to unbind the royal udders for inspection, the Court ruled that such delicate teats must no longer be hidden from public view, and ordered the Royal Personage to keep the monarchical mammaries uncovered and to serve penance in the pillory for the remainder of the festival. Further, while thus incarcerated she must make herself available for any entertainment her subjects fancied.

Forthwith, the Queen was ceremoniously stripped of her blouse and corset, to stand before us bare-breasted, presenting the royal orbs and nipples in full display. Now clad only in her skirts and petticoats, and of course, her crown, she shyly accepted the applause of her subjects. But, in accordance with her privileged station in life, she thrust her newly bared breasts forward and stood proud as some approached to kneel and kiss her ring, or to kiss one or the other nipple.

In real life she'd been an air hostess, the ones we used to call "stewardesses", retired from a now-defunct large international airline based in Miami. Now in her fifties, she retained the confident, statuesque look required of air hostesses back then, and even in her near-nakedness she maintained a graceful demeanor. One concession she'd made for taking on this role as the Festival Queen was to stay out of the sun for the past couple of months so her skin would appear royally pale, unlike the commoners who worked in the fields.

Eyes fixed ahead, she held her crowned head high as the mob wrapped her forearms in rough rags for the walk of shame to the Towne Square where the pillory stood in the shade of a spreading oak, the hinged wooden stock ready with its leather-lined cutouts for her neck and wrists.

I'd been assigned the role of "Gaoler" (pronounced "jailer", same meaning), so I stood beside the pillory as the condemned Queen came into view, pushed and pulled along by the unruly crowd. She presented her royal self bare breasted before me, her alibaster skin signifying royalty even after her crown was removed. I set the crown on a nearby purple velvet cushion. Out of respect I bowed before her, kissed the ring on her extended hand, then rose to kiss each of her perfect nipples. She stated her punishment and begged the rough crowd for mercy. They demanded the sentence be adjudicated, so I led her around to the backside of the pillory, raised the top board and waited as she lowered her head and arms onto the cutouts, then gently swung the top board back down to lock her in place. In front of her subjects, she maintained the dignity of her high position of the realm. She bent over at the waist. There was no support for her naked breasts, so they were left to freely swing below. Her skirts and petticoats covered her bottom.

As the commotion died down and the mob receded, I pulled up a stool to sit near where the Queen's head stuck through the wooden stock, just to keep her company. We chatted pleasantly. She asked how she looked from the rear, so I circled around behind. I lifted the hem of her garments, and to the delight and cheers of a small group gathered behind the pillory, the imperial perineum was revealed. The naked white skin of the Queen's heart-shaped bare bum framed the royal anus and labia. Then, after she spread her legs a bit further apart the pink patrician pudenda were free to hang down just a bit, as befits a high-born matron in her fifties. The lack of hair anywhere around her cunt or under her bottom was the other concession she had made for this role, to suggest the fine grooming of royal privilege. I duly reported to the Queen that everything underneath appeared to be in order, so I let the garments drop.

A monk, actually one of the organisers, arrived with a sign which he posted alongside the pillory:

A HANDFULL OF COINS YOU DROPP INTO THE TILL,

THEN WITH THE QUEENE YOU MAY DOO AS YOU WILL

NOT TO BE TARRYING HERE IN THE FRONT,

YOU MUST GOE BEHIND IF YOU WOULD ENJOY HER CUNT

USE YOUR FINGER, YOUR TONGUE, OR IF YOU HAVE ONE, A COCK.

TO PARTAKE OF PLEASURE WHILE THE QUEENE'S IN THE STOCK

HOWEVER YOU TAKE HER, SHOW RESPECKT AND DEMEAN,

THOUGH WITH HER TEATS ON DISPLAY, SHE STILL IS YOUR QUEENE!

Again this year she had taken on the role of Queen to help with the Association's fundraising. The sign stated the rules, and she had agreed to them. In fact, she herself, had created this role for the Queen and outlined how the role would be played. Fairgoers could seek pleasure with her in return for tokens purchased at the entrance gate. This was her third year in the role of Festival Queen.

Since she didn't know how many tokens had been sold this year, she had no idea how many revelers would come to her, and in her, as she stayed bent over the pillory with her backside vulnerable simply by the lift of a skirt. In anticipation of the first patron, she had asked me to bring a tube of KY Jelly, and now it was time to administer it. As two eager volunteers held up the Queen's skirts, I slathered a generous dollop of the goo between her labia, pushing some inside her vagina, and another fingerfull into her asshole. Then I smeared a small amount around the entire area between her cunt and her asshole, then went up her butt crack a bit.

Within arm's length of the Queen's ass was a clean spittoon filled with condoms, with a sign propped up against it:

TO AVOID TAKING SICK,

YOU MUST SHEATHE YOUR WICK

The container must have held well over a hundred condoms.

After she assured me she felt sufficiently lubricated, I got back onto my stool in front to pass the time until some knight or serf or wench might show up. While waiting, she told me I might fancy having the first fuck. Not one to disobey my Queen, I went round behind, parted my tunic to loose my cock, donned one of the proffered condoms, lifted the royal skirts and petticoats, and repectfully entered my Queen's cunt. We enjoyed a delightful few moments together, culminating in orgasms for both. Finished with her cunt, I entered her asshole as well, and found it to be as welcoming as her cunt. I withdrew and came round front to face my Queen as we thanked eachother for the fine fuck and I reported that both openings seemed to be in excellent working order.

The small crowd of farmers and tradesmen that had watched and cheered us formed a queu behind the pillory, and took turns doing as I had just done.

Eventually a bishop came close enough to read the sign, tossed some tokens into the pail, then slipped round behind her, and parted his robe to reveal an enormous 'holy rod'. She couldn't see his tool, so I suggested she brace herself. The bishop then lifted the Queen's petticoats to reveal her holy holes, and eased his rod into her. From where I sat, I couldn't tell which orifice he chose, but she told me she was feeling him in her cunt. A small crowd that had gathered counted out one stroke for each token paid, then the bishop gasped and lunged mightily, and withdrew. He then circled round front to thank his Queen, who was smiling, and off he went. I asked the Queen how she was doing, and she replied that she was fine, that she hadn't been prepared to accept a cock of that size, but that with the KY Jelly she'd managed and the rest would be easier. And also that she hoped to raise a lot of money for the Association.

Next was a barmaid with melon-like breasts nearly exploding out of her corset. She dropped a few tokens and came around front to face her Queen and reach under the stock to play with the Queen's own soft dangling tits. The barmaid was followed by a wench who wanted to lick the cum left by the bishop. Indeed, because of the condom, the bishop had left no cum, so the barmaid made do sucking out the feminine juices in the Queen's hairless cunt. The Queen announced aloud as the barmaid reached her clitoris, and then surrendered to a very expressive orgasm.

Again I asked the Queen if she was alright, and this time she said all was well but she needed to have a piss. I sent someone for a slop bucket to place between her feet under the royal crotch, and all watched as the she ignominiously relieved herself, after which she recomposed herself into her role as Queen. Then she asked for a drink, just water for her thirst. That taken care of, she again made herself available. But not before I reapplied the lube to her cunt to replace what was washed away by her pissing.

By then a boisterous rabble was sorting itself into a short queue behind the pillory, so I described to her what she could only hear but not see. How many? Not more than a score. What sort? Mixed, men and women, nobles and commoners, some dark-skinned ones perhaps from the African or Caribbean colonies, a couple of knights, a few Dames, several young squires, a monk or two.

This time when I asked how she was feeling, she admitted that some of the quicker fuckings had left her frustrated, so she dictated some new lines for me to add to the sign:

WHILE YOU'RE BACK THERE PLAYING 'TWEEN THE CHEEKS OF MY BUM,

SPECIAL FAVORS NEXT YEAR IF YOU MAKE THE QUEENE CUM!

That seemed to solve her problem, although this caused the waiting times to increase a bit.

Each reached the head of the line, did what they wanted with their Queen, some anal but most cuntal, and some just to feel her tits or to finger the queenly clitoris. But all were respectful, coming round front to thank the Queen, some even genuflecting or curtsying or bowing before turning to leave. A separate queu formed for those wishing only to play with her tits. Some, mostly women, wanted to kneel under her to suck her clit whilst a cock was pistoning in and out.

Many she knew, most she was meeting for the first time. Some, after fucking her from behind, came round front to actually make her acquaintance, even as she was being pummeled by the next in line. She took the names of those who gave her an orgasm, to be remembered for next year's fair.

The minstrel group came close and serenaded the Queen as they took turns laying down their instruments, the others playing and singing as each in turn fucked her then rejoined the music making. Then a band of jugglers came by and took turns fucking the Queen. A bevy of knights arrived, each struggling out of his armour to free his lance to put inside his Queen. Followed by each attending squire taking seconds after his knight.

The queu lengthened, and I told her that at least thirty more had joined. She asked me to move my stool to sit behind her to make sure no more fucked her in the ass. She was afraid of tearing or other damage by commoners so overcome with zeal at having their way with their Queen! The Faire might be all fun and games, but her body was real and she didn't want it damaged. So I pulled my stool to just between her legs where I was able to redirect any cock aimed at her anus, guiding it instead into her cunt. This was more difficult than would seem, as the slickness between her cheeks made it easy for the errant cock to slip into her asshole.

The afternoon brought a steady stream of more knights, earls, squires, monks and serfs, a few wenches and dames, as well as the occasional dwarf. Many returned with new tokens, excited to have a second go. Serfs, blacksmiths, lackeys, farmers, and common folk of all descriptions. The jesters were the most entertaining, as they made up bawdy rhymes as they took turns fucking the Queen. Watching a queen laugh in coitus is a truly unique experience, and many revelers came closer to see their Queen join in the merriment even as she was being fucked.

Of course, the King did not have to wait in the queu; his arrival was accompanied by his court and several other nobles.

But before the royal copulation, each member of the court paid homage to their Queen. The lords, barons, and earls all fucked her, while the Ladies, Matrons, and other Ladies in Attendance took turns sucking the Queenly Clitoris or perhaps a nipple. One Marquisa strapped on a dildo.

After all members of the court completed their expressions of fealty to their Queen, it became the King's turn. From all corners of the fairgrounds, medieval folk of every manner and station gathered around the pillory for the festival's grand finale. The King was escorted to his position behind the pillory, the position taken up by so many before him that day, while his valets removed his outer robes to reveal the kingly cock, proud and erect and ready for the task. The Queen's remaining garments were removed so that the official observers could verify that the royal cock was actually entering the royal cunt and that there would be no question of maintaining the hereditary line (no mention was made of the other possibilities from the day's activities!). A stool was brought so the Queen, now brazenly but enticingly naked, could tip her bum up to present the Queenly Quim in a more accessible manner, as the King was quite portly. Her crown was replaced on her head.

With both the royal cock and the royal cunt deemed ready by the bishop and the observers, a chamber maid lined up the two parts, then eased them together. All were invited to take turns coming closer to see the actual penetration. After both King and Queen orgasmed, she several times but he only once, the royal cock was withdrawn. Once the official observers were satisfied, they gave their blessing and the horde was dismissed. The Queen was yet trapped in the stocks all this time. The bucking of her orgasms had long since caused her crown to go flying off her head.

The afternoon was a complete success. The collection pail for the tokens had to be emptied many times. Likewise, the spittoon repurposed to hold the condoms needed several refillings. The Queen raised enough money to finance the Association's administrative costs for the year, as well as providing student scholarships for next year's festival. Because she'd been treated with such dignity and respect she asked the board to allow her the Queen's role again next year, and her request was heartily granted. And, still naked and confined in the pillory as she addressed the Association's board, she asked that the same King be chosen!

As the weekend revelers made preparations to leave, what remained of the happy crowd cheered as I released my wife from the pillory and shared a long embrace and loving kiss with her. On the drive home she mentioned that she hoped a lot of the younger students attending next year's festival would want to have their way with the Queen!