Fun At The Village Fete Ch 02

Chapter 2: Dessert Dispute

Sally stood behind her table at the village fete. The festivities had barely begun, but the sun was already high in the sky and shining brightly. Sally took heart in the fact that she has been right to ignore the weather forecast. Despite nearly a week of rain previously, the weather was now warm and cloudless. On a hunch, Sally had disregarded the prediction of a seventh day of rain and dressed for warm weather. Her dress was bright red, sleeveless and very short, barely reaching mid-thigh. It was a bit tight, hugging her belly, but it showcased her body well, especially her breasts, which threatened to spill out over the top.

She straightened the rows of pies on the table, then the cakes. Then the strawberries and cream. Then the pastries and their bowls and pitchers of dipping sauces. She has really gone all out this fete, and she hoped the other women of the village appreciated it. She saw a few approaching, and suddenly felt nervous. Scanning her surroundings, she saw that her daughter was in her place at the Shephardess Display, but there was no sign of her nephew. Maybe she shouldn't have let him sleep in. But he had looked so peaceful. Still, the presence of someone familiar would be comforting, especially if--

"Hello, Sally," said a voice that, despite the cordial words, carried an edge of menace. It was Celia, one of the fete planners. She was built similarly to Sally, with curvy hips, breasts and a belly, but she stood several inches taller and had a head of hair a shade of red that competed with Sally's dress. Overall, her appearance was intimidating. The intimidation was only increased by the presence of Samantha, her lackey, beside her. Samantha had curly dark hair and was the fittest of the women.

"Celia, Sam," Sally replied meekly. Celia had a glint in her eye, and she wasn't sure what she was up to.

"Showing a lot of skin today," Celia went on. "You know, this is the village fete and not a night on the town. You should dress more appropriately." Celia was wearing a floral print dress with short sleeves and a hem that came to her knees.

"Yeah, more appropriately," chimed in Samantha. She was wearing a long-sleeved burgundy top and jeans.

"It was a warm day," Sally responded. "I thought something light--"

"Bullshit. You've been wearing skimpy clothes ever since your husband left you. Showing off your body to all our husbands. The women of the village are fed up with your behavior. Just because you can't keep a man, doesn't entitle you to one of ours."

"I don't that's fair. It's not--I'm--" Sally began to stutter, equal parts embarrassed and angry. "Even if--you can't blame--I wouldn't--"

"You're right," said Celia. "We're all adults, and it shouldn't matter. I'm just concerned about your daughter."

"You are?"

"Yes, I wouldn't want Tabitha to become a washed-up slut like you."

Sally could bear personal insults, but bringing her daughter into things was going too far. Before she could even think twice, she grabbed the nearest thing and threw it at Celia's head.

The nearest thing happened to be a cream pie, and, despite her flustered state, Sally's aim was perfect. The pie collided with Celia's face, leaving it a blank mask of white. For a moment, all three women stood in shocked, silent disbelief at what had happened. Finally, Celia scooped the cream from her eyes, narrowed them at Sally and spoke.

"You. Bitch." she hissed. "How dare you?"

"Yeah, how dare you, bitch?" Samantha echoed. "How dare you?"

"Oh, you shut up too," said Sally, suddenly free to speak her mind. She picked up another pie and threw it at Samantha. This time, her aim was off, and the pie collided with her chest, splattering cream all over her top. Undeterred, Sally grabbed another pie and tried again. This time it was a fruit pie, and it hit bullseye. Samantha's face was plastered with crust and strawberry filling.

Sally surveyed the two messy women in front of her, exhilarated and pleased with her work. Celia and Samantha looked at each other. "We can't let her get away with this," said Celia. They charged Sally. Sally, seeing them coming, grabbed two more pies, but her attackers came at her too fast. Instead of hitting their faces, as she intended, the pies mashed into their bodies. A chocolate pie hit Celia's dress around the boob area, soaking into the flowery fabric, while a lemon meringue pie hit the crotch area of Samantha's jeans. The pies did nothing to halt their momentum, and the two women were almost instantly at Sally's side, restraining her by the arms. Sally struggled to break free, but it was no use.

"This was a new dress," said Celia. "You're going to pay for what you did."

"Yeah, pay for it," said Samantha. "And pay for my top. It was only three months old. And, uh, my designer jeans too, if this doesn't come out in the wash. You'll pay for it all! Where's your pocketbook?"

"Oh, she's not paying for it with money," said Celia, and cocked her head towards the dessert table in front of them. Catching on, Samantha smiled wickedly, and they began to frogmarch Sally forwards. It was a bit awkward for Samantha, because she felt sticky between the legs, but she was too excited by the thought of revenge to mind.

The two women acted as one, their understanding so clear that no words were needed. Their destination was a large sheet cake. They smushed Sally's face into it, revealing the yellow cake beneath the pink frosting. They made good use of the cake's wide area, repeatedly lifting up Sally's head and bringing it down into new parts of the cake until it was reduced to a pile of crumb and frosting. Not letting anything go to waste, Celia and Samantha grabbed handfuls of the cake remnants and rubbed them into Sally's hair.

But using their hands to smear cake weakened their grip and Sally took advantage of the opportunity to break free. She lashed out blindly. First, she grappled with Celia, pinning her on the table. A jar of sauce tipped over next to them and poured itself out onto the table, making a river that flowed down the back of Celia's dress. Celia shivered as the cold liquid made its way down her back, through the ass of her panties, and even to the backs of her legs. Had it been the raspberry sauce? Celia became more enraged, thinking of the liquid soaking through her clothes, her dress being even more ruined and her blue silk panties turning purple in the back.

Sally's hands grabbed the first two things she could find: two cupcakes, which she mashed into the front of Celia's dress. Two more cupcakes went down her cleavage, and then, feeling very wicked, Sally reached down into Celia's dress, pulled up her bra cups and shoved in another pair of cupcakes. Regretting only that she had baked a mere half-dozen of those cupcakes, Sally pinned Celia down with her knee, grabbed a pitcher of sauce from further up the table and poured it over her. This pitcher had chocolate sauce, and Sally delighted in turning Celia's red hair brown. Celia's face was next and Sally had just stared on her dress when Samantha came up behind Sally and pulled her off Celia and away from the table. Sally had nothing to fight with, so she retaliated with her bare hands. In a swift motion, she pulled Samantha's jeans to her ankles and pushed her back, causing her to fall onto the table. The front of Samantha's white cotton panties had been stained yellow where some of the meringue had soaked through. Samantha staggered backwards, finally stumbling over the table and sitting in a chocolate cake.

Celia and Samantha struggled to face Sally while she gloated over handiwork. The stains of Samantha's panties made it seem like she had pissed and shit herself, while Celia was forced to pull out her dress in front to let the fragments of cupcake out. They were collecting in a pile at her feet, inside a puddle of chocolate sauce, and Celia's damp, sticky dress was beginning to cling to her body. Sally started to smirk when a voice broke her reverie:

"Hey, what's going on over there?"

People had begun to arrive for the fete, and a crowd had gathered around the dessert tables.

"Sally attacked us!" shouted Celia.

"Yeah, she attacked us!" Samantha echoed, turning toward the crowd. "Look what she di--"

As Samantha tried to walk forward, she tripped over her jeans, which were still around her ankles, and fell face-first into an apple pie on the table. Her landing also tipped over a bowl full of scoops of vanilla ice cream, which fell out and piled over her head, the white contrasting with her dark hair. Samantha stood up, and some ice cream fell, landing in her pants. Oblivious, Samantha pulled up her pants, and then cried out in shock at the feeling of the cold ice cream being pressed into her nether regions. Frustrated, she shook off her jeans and threw them aside entirely, which left her stood dressed only in her top and stained panties, which were now dripping a thick white liquid from the crotch.

"Sally should pay for what she did!" Celia rallied the crowd. There was a roar of assent, and a mob of women rushed towards Sally.

"Whore!" "Tramp!" "Slut!" "Troublemaker!" "Bitch!" Sally was not popular among the women of the village, and they took the opportunity to act out their resentment. Sally tried to escape, but it was too late and several women held her limbs, too many to overpower. They carried Sally over to one of the dessert tables and slid her over it lengthwise. Sally crashed through the desserts more quickly than she could identify individual items. To her, it was like sliding through a storm of creams, sauces, pies and cakes.

Sally was covered from head to toe in mess now, but it wasn't enough for the crowd. She was bent over another table, and women began taking turns tormenting her. The first few in line satisfied themselves with a pie in the face, or over the head, being sure to rub the mess into her hair. Then Celia came up to her and simultaneously pulled down both the top of her dress and bra, exposing her bare breasts which were still clean.

"This is revenge for what you did to my dress!" she declared, and slammed a pie into each dangling breast. Celia moaned with embarrassment as the cherry pies splattered their filling all over her boobs. Meanwhile, Samantha approached her from behind. Lifting up Sally's dress, she revealed black panties, which she immediately smacked with a cream pie. After taking a moment to enjoy the contrast between the white cream and black fabric, Samantha ran off and returned with a pitcher of chocolate sauce. Pulling out the waistband of Sally's panties, Samantha emptied the pitcher. She smiled as the thick liquid filled up the back of the panties, and then chuckled as it began to leak out and flow down Sally's legs.

The crowd got rougher with Sally, slamming two and three pies into her at a time. Sally struggled, but it was no use. She was far outnumbered, and there was no escape. "Let's strip the bitch!" someone shouted, and Sally felt hands clutching her dress from all angles. Writhing futilely, she heard a ripping sound as her dress was torn to pieces. She was flipped onto her back, legs kicking until the were grabbed and held still while someone slipped of her panties. Sally managed to sit up in time to see the sodden garment be flung into the distance and glance her exposed pubic region. Her modesty--what was left of it--was saved by a pie thrown directly at her pussy, the cream covering her pubic region and splattering up her body to her face. Involuntary, Sally moaned. In spite of everything, the cream of the pie felt good flowing along her labia and even being pushed into her vagina. For a moment, it was like being pleasured by a soft, gentle tongue. But then the moment passed. More pies came, concentrating on her crotch, tits and face. Sauces were poured over her, and Sally, her vision blocked, identified them only by taste: caramel, lemon, vanilla. She felt that her hair was sticky and matted to her body. She must look an absolute mess, she realized. Someone forced an eclair into Sally's mouth. Then she squirmed as another eclair was inserted into her vagina, and after that another wedged between her asscheeks. But it was no use. The crowd was going to have its way with her. The deluge of desserts continued, seemingly without end. Sally stopped fighting and just lay there, resigned to her fate of being naked, messy and humiliated.