The Barbarian and the Wench

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Choking

“Do you see something you like, M’Lord?” the perky blond asked, leaning over the display case and offering a stunning view of her full breasts, barely contained in a low-cut peasant blouse.

“Absolutely,” I replied, trying not to stare. Pointing at a silver pendant, I said, “‘Ow about that one?”

With a dazzling smile, she took it out and handed it to me. It was a bold sculpture of a dragon with spread wings, clutching an amethyst crystal. She talked about the design and the artist who made it but I was too busy stealing glances at her smooth, creamy flesh to pay much attention. I was nineteen then, and somewhat awkward around girls.

This time, I promised myself, would be different.

I was The Barbarian. Wearing little more than a fur loincloth, boots, and a four-foot broadsword, I swaggered and flirted my way through my first day at a Renaissance Faire.

I leaned a brawny arm on the display case, grinned, and said, “Maybe you should model it for me.”

She smiled and raised her arms to put on the necklace, which made her tits even more prominent. The dim circles of her nipples showed faintly through the fabric. I ogled her with a self-assurance I conjured from nowhere. Normally this would have been greeted with an icy stare or even a slap. But she just put her hands on her hips and twisted from side to side, allowing me to view the necklace and her enticing curves from all angles.

“Is it to your liking, M’Lord?”

Like everyone else, myself included, she spoke with what was supposed to be an English accent. A real Englishman would probably have a stroke hearing what we thought his countrymen sounded like, but it lent a wonderful air of playfulness to the place. My eyes roamed her young body, from her clingy, artfully ragged skirt, over her corset, and across her jutting tits. My cock, half-hard for most of the day, grew to full length.

“Your beauty makes it look like a pebble in comparison,” I said, not believing I could deliver such a line with a straight face. But she beamed at me and thrust her chest forward.

“You fancy another piece?” she asked.

“Actually, I was thinking of it for myself.”

“‘Tis a bit masculine for a lady,” she said, knowing I’d had no reason to ask her to wear it.

“I just needed to be sure,” I lied unconvincingly.

“Per’aps you should try it on,” she replied, unfastening it from her slender neck.

She held it out. I leaned forward, practically sticking my face into her cleavage. Her fingers brushed my shoulders as she reached under my hair and fastened the clasp. The view between those glorious orbs was breathtaking. My cock twitched and I felt pre-cum dribbling out. I really needed to re-position my dick but I didn’t dare. Straightening up with some reluctance, I looked into the mirror she held for me.

I hardly recognized myself: three-day scruff of beard, longish hair barely combed, broad shoulders tanned by the Texas sun, the strap of my broadsword scabbard cutting across my hairy chest. “I like it.”

“It becomes you,” she said, her sea-green eyes peering at me through dense lashes.

Sure, she was flirting with me to make a sale, but I also sensed genuine interest. I wondered if she was playing a role as much as I. She probably lived in her parent’s basement and worked some dead-end job in real life. But there was no mistaking the sexuality that radiated from her, like distortion waves on a desert highway.

Fingering the pendant, I asked, “What’s your name, lass?”

“Rochelle, M’Lord,” she replied, and curtsied.

I sure felt like a Lord. “I’ll take it,” I said.

I paid her but took my time doing it. We made googly eyes at each other and I left a hefty tip in a copper bowl next to the historically inaccurate cash register. I was reluctant to leave but I knew she had other customers.

“Anything else you like?” she asked.

I looked her up and down one last time and said, “There is, fair maiden, but I must come back for it later.”

She curtsied again, blinded me with her teeth, and turned away. I strolled off, trying to look casual as I tugged my cock into a more comfortable position.

The sun beat down, warm even in October. Scantily clad people in period clothing or outlandish fantasy attire wandered around or stood in front of shops hawking their wares. Minstrels playing Victorian instruments strolled among the crowd.

People treated a nearly naked barbarian far differently than they did the tongue-tied teenager I was on all other days. True, I was muscular and fit from years of cycling and rock climbing, with a wide chest and tree-trunk legs, but girls sensed my awkwardness and I didn’t score as much as some of my less attractive but more outgoing friends. So I’d come to the Renaissance Faire to try a new persona, one that showed off my attributes and allowed me to be someone else for a while.

I’d heard about the place for years but had never been here. Several hundred merchants worked from permanent structures of wood, brick, and stone that gave a reasonably convincing impression of a Medieval Maltepe Escort town. Stages offered musical acts, jugglers, and magicians, and there was full-contact jousting and a daily parade.

The place was packed with people looking to escape the real world.

I felt despondent about leaving Rochelle and found myself moping around, avoiding everyone who wanted to talk to me or take my picture. Snap out of it, I told myself. This isn’t how The Barbarian acts! I still have a shot at her. She had not discouraged me when I suggested I would return. I felt my spirits lift. The womanizing, devil-may-care persona flooded over me.

The air was thick with the smell of roasting meat so I bought a turkey leg and an overpriced ceramic stein filled with cold beer. Laughing, I gnawed the leg and gulped the beer like a true barbarian.

Women of all ages seemed drawn to me. Giggling schoolgirls pointed and whispered, while housewives and secretaries clustered around me as their friends took pictures. A couple of women gave my ass a squeeze and one even slipped her hand under my loincloth.

I’d never had this much attention in my life. I’d had a couple of girlfriends and hooked up with a few chicks at parties. But this was a surreal fantasy world where regular folks mingled with half-naked people from another time. Different rules of behavior seemed to apply. Several women, entranced by the magical atmosphere (and possibly a little drunk) made their willingness to venture off with me quite clear. A few wooded areas would be perfect for a quick tryst, or we could just walk out to one of our vehicles.

Normally I would have been happy to fuck any of them. But I was The Barbarian. I wanted Rochelle.

After a few hours the sun dropped below the trees and the crowds began to thin. Criers wandered about letting everyone know the faire closed at sunset. I made my way back toward Rochelle’s shop. Would she still be there? Was her interest just an act?

Rounding the corner of a leatherworker’s booth, I saw her across the street packing trays of jewelry into wooden boxes. Her hair spilled over her shoulders and I had a great view down her blouse as she bent over to pick up another tray. As my normal self I knew I’d never land a girl like her.

I told myself, “I am The Barbarian. I will have her.”

I puffed out my chest and marched up to the shop, one hand on the hilt of my broadsword, the other carrying my empty beer stein. Rochelle glanced up. She gave a delighted smile as she packed the last of the trays.

“You came back, M’Lord,” she said, brushing a few strands of honey-colored hair behind her ear.

“As I promised,” I replied, leaning again on the display case. “Care to join me for a mug of ale?”

She looked me up and down as brazenly as I’d looked at her earlier. Regarding me with those aquamarine eyes, she said, “Aye. That sounds nice.”

After conferring with an older couple, presumably the owners, she joined me in the street. I gave her a devilish grin as my gaze lingered on her cleavage. She didn’t seem to mind, since she slipped her arm through mine and looked up at me expectantly. I paused a moment to drink in her beauty before strolling off.

Neither of us spoke as we walked through the town. The sky was dark purple and the temperature had dropped into the high 70s. A few knights clumped by on horseback and the humid air smelled of wood, dirt, and leather. Though the show was now closed to “mundanes”, meaning those who didn’t work here, a few of the eateries and taverns remained open to serve the performers and merchants. I escorted Rochelle to the bar of an open-air pub.

“Ho, Barkeep,” I said. “A beer for me and whatever the lady is having.”

“Shiner Bock,” she said, naming a popular local beer. Then she held up two fingers. “Two.”

The huge, bearded bartender gave her a suspicious squint, then shrugged, filled my stein and handed two bottles to Rochelle. I paid and we strolled off again.

“‘Tis still quite warm,” she said, then smiled, drained one bottle with a series of lusty gulps and tossed it in a trash can.

“Aye,” I agreed, taking a few swigs myself.

We walked for several minutes in silence, enjoying the tingle of the alcohol and each others’ company. I wasn’t sure what to say. Talking in our ridiculous accents for any length of time would be quite cumbersome. Besides, were we really going ask each other personal questions? She didn’t want to know who I was in real life any more than I wanted to know about her. The delicious tension of the game was everything.

“Where are we going?” she asked after a while, her fingers brushing my shoulder and bicep.

“Let’s find a quiet place to sit, lass,” I replied.

With no street lamps and a half hour past sunset, it was getting dark. The glow from shop windows and the rising half moon gave enough light to navigate. Few people were about as we walked away from the shops, past a stage and toward the arena. The merchants slept in their shops while the performers had a huge campground on the Cevizli Escort other side of the faire. No one was in this area at all.

“‘Tis quite dark, M’Lord,” Rochelle said, now clutching my arm.

“It’s fine, my love,” I replied. “We’re nearly there.”

When I said ‘my love’ her grip tightened. Good. I looked at the stocks as we sauntered past. Set in the middle of a bare patch of ground, the wooden contraption had one large and two small holes to secure a prisoner’s head and hands, like something from old Salem. Rochelle looked at it too, then up at me.

“No, lass,” I said, sensing her concern. “Here.”

I guided her to a bench beneath a tree. With bushes on three sides, it had a view of a small lake and the rising moon. I’d spotted it earlier and knew it was the perfect spot to take my delectable wench. We put our beers down and sat next to each other on the narrow, wooden bench.

“Ooh, it’s lovely,” she said.

“So are you,” I replied, stroking a finger along her neck.

If possible, she was even more beautiful in the moonlight. Her hair seemed to glow and her full lips gave a hint of a smile. Her large, dark eyes bored into me, waiting for me to make the next move. My cock was hard as a sword hilt. I basked in the electric excitement of knowing she wanted the same thing I did.

“You’re too kind, sir,” she said after a moment.

I slid my hand behind her neck, gazed into her eyes, and said, “No I’m not.”

She gave no resistance as I pulled her toward me. Her lips met mine. Soft and warm, they parted instantly. Her tongue probed my lips, which opened as well. Our tongues met, tangled, withdrew, then met again, like sword fighters only much more fun.

Her arms went around my neck. I slipped my free hand around her waist, still kissing with gusto, as my other hand drifted from her neck, over her collarbone, inexorably downward.

Instead of pulling away, she arched her back to bring her breast into my hand more quickly. I thought I might spew right there. I’m The Barbarian, I told myself. I seduce beautiful women all the time! So I pulled her closer and caressed first one full globe, then the other. I felt her nipples harden beneath my palms and her breathing grew faster.

Suddenly I felt her fingers inching under my loincloth. I moaned into her mouth. Her hand stroked my throbbing dick through my skimpy underwear.

“Mmmmm,” she mumbled, clearly happy with what she’d found.

I spread my legs to give her better access. As she stroked me I tugged down the shoulders of her peasant blouse. She squeezed my cock harder as her magnificent breasts burst free. I pulled my lips away from hers and took one nipple in my mouth. She moaned as I sucked gently, first one and then the other. They jutted from her chest, flawless and firm. Large areola tipped by thimble-sized nipples stuck out proudly, dark against her moonlit skin.

She freed my cock from the underwear and vigorously pumped my shaft. I started to fear I would cum soon.

“Easy lass,” I said. “You’re getting me quite worked up.”

She relaxed her grip and slowed her strokes. Wiggling free of her grasp, I knelt on the ground between her legs. I pulled her forward, kissed her again, then turned my attention to her breasts. Caressing, licking, sucking, I worshiped those noble tits as they truly deserved. She moaned her appreciation.

I was overcome by lust. This stunning girl seemed just as excited as me. Throwing caution to the wind I stood up, lifted my loincloth, and brought my cock within inches of her face. Before I could even tell her what to do she engulfed it in her mouth.

She slurped the head of my seven-incher, tongue swirling around my cock-head, then licking the underside of my shaft. One hand pumped me while the other cupped my oversized balls.

“Aye, lass, that’s it…” I said as she worked me.

I grabbed her head and thrust in and out of her mouth. I felt the pressure start to build in my balls and I knew I’d cum soon if she kept going. I bit my tongue hard and thought of roadkill. She sucked and slurped enthusiastically. I bit harder.

“Ahh, wench…slow down…”

She looked up at me and shook her head.

I was determined not to cum yet. I would bring this girl to a climax first, leave her panting in the dirt. Taking two fistfuls of hair, I pulled her head away. My cock popped out of her mouth with a sucking sound.

“My Lord, am I not to your liking?” she asked, looking up at me with genuine concern.

“You’re wonderful, my love, but I want to see to your needs first.”

“But I only want to satisfy you.”

“You’ll satisfy me by doing as you’re told.”

Rochelle gave me a puppy dog look. “I’ll…I’ll do whatever you want.”

This ravishing girl was now at my command, at least for as long as I could stay in character. Then an idea hit me.

“Come with me,” I said, holding out my hand.

She started to pull up her blouse but I said, “Leave it.”

She obeyed, taking my hand and following me back the way we’d come, Atalar Escort bare tits bouncing in the moonlight. I brought her to the stocks. She looked at them, then back to me, uneasiness plain on her lovely face.

“M’Lord I…”

Raising the bar, I said, “In, wench.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied with downcast eyes.

Bending over at the waist, Rochelle placed her wrists and neck onto the three half-circles cut into the lower stock. I brought the top piece down, trapping her. Of course, it wasn’t locked. She could just stand up and walk away at any time. We both knew it. That’s what made it so exciting.

She was giving herself to me totally. To a barbarian she’d met only hours earlier.

I raised my loincloth and again fed her my cock. She slurped away, but this time without the use of her hands. She gazed up at me with eyes that seemed even more luminous in the moonlight, half her face bright, half in shadow. Thrusting in and out of her mouth, I looked back at her with a confidence I’d never felt before. I watched my cock disappear past her lips and emerge again, glistening with her saliva. Holding her golden hair, I fucked her face for a minute or two, then slowly withdrew.

Bending down, I whispered in her ear, “You may climax as much as you like, my love, but be quiet about it.”

I moved around behind her. She gasped as I raised her skirt and bunched it around her narrow waist. I tugged her panties down and she kicked them away.

I knelt behind her. Her fair skin glowed a faint blue, highlighting the contours of her ass and legs. Narrow lips and engorged clitoris nestled between soft mounds. Her crotch and inner thighs shined with moisture. I inhaled the earthy scent of her. It intoxicated me, drew me in like the smell of food to a starving man.

I lapped the back of her thighs, moving upwards and planting kisses on her glorious ass. Moving my face lower, I licked the tender flesh of her labia, first one side then the other. Her pubic hair felt coarse against the smoothness of her skin. I heard her moan again.

“Yes…yes…” she whispered.

When I gently licked her clit her whole body twitched. Spreading her labia with my thumbs, I slithered my tongue up and down her slippery flesh. Her clitoris felt firm and hot and slick. I breathed in her musky scent. Through my lips and palms I felt her tremble as I continued slurping her.

“Oh, my Lord…”

I pressed my mouth over her mound and got a good seal. Lightly I sucked and licked her most sensitive spot. Her legs began to spasm and I heard gasping. My hands squeezed her ass while my thumbs kept her spread. I sucked a bit harder, lapping her clit with fast flicks of my tongue.

It was so deliciously erotic, kneeling behind this lovely girl and pleasuring her with my mouth. Her satisfaction dripped down my chin. Free from my underwear, my cock throbbed beneath my loincloth, dripping pre-cum onto the ground. I couldn’t tell who was more aroused.

“Mmmm,” she whispered. “Yes, yes…mmmmm…”

I kept up my efforts, giving her a good suction and licking madly. Her legs began to shake and her neck and wrists twitched in the stocks, making the wood rattle.

“Just like that! Just like that!” she whispered far too loudly.

I kept it up.

Rochelle shuddered again and let out a low animal groan. Her muscles seemed to lock tight. My mouth clamped on her pussy, I licked and slurped as the first waves of her orgasm crashed over her. Her body spasmed, first trembling and then going rigid.

“Ah! Ah!” she shouted in a whisper. “Oh my god…”

I held on to her wriggling ass with both hands, pulling my face into her, devouring her dripping pussy.

“…ahhh…ahhh…”

A rivulet of warm liquid trickled into my mouth. It tasted different than her other juice- a bit sweeter maybe, more tangy. She kept going and so did I.

“…mmmmmm…”

Her convulsions grew weaker and farther apart.

“…oooooooooh…”

She began to relax. I slowed my licks and let the suction fall away. At last her paroxysms stopped. She sighed…a long, low breath that told me everything I needed to know. After a few more gentle licks I stood, my hands sliding over her bunched-up skirt and clutching her waist.

I moved closer until my loincloth touched her ass. I slid my hips from side to side, brushing her skin with my fur.

“Oh yes, M’Lord,” she whispered. “Take me.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice.

I lifted my fur and stroked the tip of my throbbing cock up and down her dripping slit. She gasped. Positioning my dick at her opening, I slowly pushed inside her. Animal groans came from both of us. Her moist tunnel gripped me, hot and insistent. Holding her corseted waist, I pushed until every inch was buried inside her.

Pausing to get used to her, I focused on relaxing my balls. I could spew at any moment but I was determined to make this last, maybe bring her off a second time. With deliberate slowness I withdrew until only the tip remained inside her. Then I sunk into her again. Trying to ignore the delicious pleasure of her hole, I looked around. It seemed so surreal, fucking a girl in stocks, with moonlit buildings from another time nearby and a half moon rising over the mirror-still lake. For an instant I thought I was back in the Middle Ages.

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