The Game - 12 The Pillory

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Kay
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Joined: 17 Feb 2019, 03:03

The Game - 12 The Pillory

Post by Kay »

The Pillory

They had just finished watching one of those sensationalized TV shows which passed for history teaching. Stocks and pillories had been mentioned in passing as forms of antique justice.
“You know,” she said after it was done, “the obvious erotic possibilities of those things never seems to be mentioned.”
“Well, its a family show”
“I mean anywhere, even in books and things. They say the victim was pelted with fruit, occasionally they'll go as far as to say the victim was abused but never anything specific.”
“Our delicate modern sensibilities couldn't take any more.”
“But they seem to be consciously avoiding the obvious. The whole thing seems to be rife with the opportunity for hanky and indeed panky.”
“Oh, it absolutely was. If you were sentenced to an afternoon, two hours or so then you got the rotten fruit and public ridicule bit. But a sentence of overnight was effectively a sentence to be raped. Now if you could afford a bodyguard or had some friends willing to stay with you you'd probably be all right. But if you weren't well connected or sufficiently wealthy... and if you were what were you doing there in the first place? Well then you could probably look forward to a busy and eventful night.”
“Ah, I see. It's nice to know that my depraved mind isn't alone.”
“And don't forget how the thing is designed. You can't look behind you. If the person was reasonably quiet and discreet you wouldn't know if it was the pimply faced butcher's boy, the vicar or the judge who sentenced you. And thus any subsequent social awkwardness was neatly avoided.”
“How foresighted of them. I always forget how very creative and ingenious were our forefathers.”
“Well, it was a simpler time. They had to make their own entertainment.”
“Of course after a day of having rotten fruit and possibly animal feces thrown at our young lady, we are probably picturing a young lady I assume...Well, she might not be at her best,” she mused.
“But it's probably nothing that a couple of buckets of cold water couldn't fix. And anyway we're assured that our ancestors weren't so very fastidious.”

She was quiet for a while and then laughed to herself.
“What?”
“Oh, I was just picturing all those concerned men explaining to their wives that they couldn't possibly sleep worrying about that poor lass down in the pillory. 'Think I'll just stroll down and see how she's doing...'”
She fell silent again.
“Of course there may not be a word of truth to that. It may all just be just lurid fantasy...” he said finally.
“Well, lurid fantasy is pretty much what we do.”
There was another pause.
“So, now I imagine your conscience is trying to convince you it might be... interesting...”
“Funny you should mention her. I was just telling her that the fruit wasn't mandatory.”
“I see. All right, it's settled then. I sentence you to a three hours in the pillory. At night.”
“Three hours! What's the charge?”
“Being a loose woman of dubious morals.”
Well, he's got you there, said Conscience, and she had to agree.
“Fair enough. May I ask the court when will the sentence be carried out?”
“The accused is advised that the sentence will be postponed for a short interval.”
“Postponed? Why?”
“First I have to build a pillory.”

*****************************************

One evening a few days later he said, “I have a design ready to be tested. It's out in the yard.”
They walked out to the playground. She turned the corner and stopped to stare at it. Even though she knew what to expect it was still an impressive sight.
It stood in a pool of light. Apart from the single light the playground and the yard beyond were in darkness.
It was indeed a standard pillory, T shaped, made of dark wood with a large central hole and two smaller ones. The wood had obviously been well sanded and stained. Certainly the originals, banged together by the village excuse for a carpenter, wouldn't have looked so fine. It softly glowed in the light.
It was an impressive piece and she was planning a series of photographs, but it did present a bit of a problem.
Generally their toys were fairly subtle and easily overlooked by the casual visitor. They didn't even have a four post bed. But this... It couldn't be anything but what it was. They'd have to tell people they took it on the Ren Fair circuit.
Well, come to that maybe you should, murmured Conscience. People would probably pay for the experience...

He was obviously, and rightfully, proud of it.
“I took some care with the edges of the holes as well. Originally they probably didn't bother with such niceties but we don't want it to be uncomfortable.”
“Well no, we certainly don't want that.”
As she studied it she began to notice details. There were two rings attached to the base about 30 inches apart. Not quite as far as her original spreader bar had been, but their function was obvious. So I stand there, bent like so, nicely opened. But then what's that...?
On the opposite side to the rings there was a low box about 24 inches square and about nine inches or so high. She thought about it for a moment, considered the geometry. If a person, say me, was locked in it I would be bent over at about a 45 degree angle. That would bring my head, which is to say my mouth, to about that level... Then if a person, say for sake of argument, a man, were to stand on the block there that would put his waist, or more properly his penis...
Properly? said Conscience.
Hush. More accurately his penis at about that level...

She nodded. It looked like being an eventful night indeed.
He stood watching as she assessed and considered the device. Finally she said,
“I see. That seems to be clear. And now I suppose you want me to strip?”
“No, that won't be necessary. I think your Ren Fair gear would be appropriate.”
A couple of years back they had visited the renaissance fair. It seemed a shame not to go dressed up, but she had no desire to whip up an Elizabethan gown, so instead she had settled for a full skirt and a simple blouse that wouldn't have been out of place anywhere in Europe anytime in the last thousand years.
“You won't need any under garments, of course.”
Well, of course not.

Ten minutes later she put her head and hands in the device. He closed and locked it.
Then he fastened her ankles to the rings.
“Comfortable?”
“For a certain definition of comfort. I wouldn't want to be bent like this for long.”
“Well, that's rather the point of the device. I'll just leave you for a while...”
He left her standing in the pool of light unable to see anything in the surrounding darkness. She was visible, if anyone were passing in the alley, but she was facing it and fully dressed so she wasn't too worried on that score.

After several minutes she sensed him come back. He was right, she couldn't see anything behind.
He walked behind her and lifted up her skirts exposing her bare bottom.
Ah, it begins.
“Please sir,” she said in her best Ren Fair mock English. “Have pity on a poor girl...”
She shook her hips trying to shake down the skirt.
“Oh, that is delicious. That would gather a crowd right there,” he said tucking the skirt up. She shook again but it stayed where it was. Had he thoughtfully put a hook in the wood she hadn't noticed?
He reached under the loose blouse and jiggled her breast. She wiggled her bottom again expecting him to enter her, but instead he gave her bottom a hard slap. She yelped in surprise.
That hadn't been his hand..!
Four more followed in quick succession. There was a pause and then came five strong slaps on her left cheek.
Ping pong paddle said Conscience helpfully.
Then she heard him walking away. He had left her skirt pulled up. Her bottom must be flaming red, and to her embarrassment she felt her cheeks starting to burn as well.
Didn't expect that, did you, strumpet? said Conscience.
Oh, hush.

And then there was nothing to do but stand there, dress pulled up with a hot bottom waiting for her next visitor. The spanking had made her truly realize how vulnerable and exposed she was. Well, at least no one's throwing rotten fruit...
Not yet whispered Conscience.

After a while she heard him come back.
“Am I to be spanked again, sir?” she asked meekly.
“No, lass. Not right now anyway. This is the part where you get fucked.”
“Yes sir. Thank you sir.”
Out of the corner of her eye she could see him drop his pants.
“Well, you're a polite strumpet I'll say.”
He stroked her pussy and then entered her. For several moments he thrust and she tried to move with him.
Hmmm, not so bad a punishment so far...
“But you've a mind to use your mouth a bit freely. Let's give you something else to do with it...”
After a few more strokes he withdrew and walked around in front of her and stepped onto the bench. Her estimate of relative positions proved accurate.
“Now open wide like a good little strumpet. I don't like to ask any of the good village girls for this service, but as you've been sentenced as a 'loose woman of dubious morals' I didn't think you'd mind.” Obediently she took his penis, still wet with her juices, in her mouth and began to suck. After a while he pulled out and returned to her pussy, thrust leisurely for a while, then came back to her mouth again...
“Please sir,” she said when she had the chance, “when your time comes could you please spill in my cunnie?”
“Ah, you don't like the other as much? Well lass, that comes when it will you know, and you couldn't expect me to interrupt my pleasure if I happened to be at the wrong end of you at the time...” He sped up a bit and added, “ But...yes, I think this time you might be lucky...” as he began to come. He pumped away for a few moments and then pulled out. He gave her bottom a slap with his hand this time. “Thank you lassie.”
She heard him walk away into the darkness.

A while later he returned. There were no preliminaries this time, he just thrust into her. But something had changed. She felt something stiff and scratchy. She wondered what it could be for a moment and then realized he was wearing a tutu. But not just any one. She could feel it wasn't one of the floaty pastel ones they had made. This was the original, stiff, scratchy Magical Cursed Tutu of Doom. That was certainly unexpected. He hadn't arranged the mirror for this session, and for that she was grateful. Erotic as her position was she suspected it wouldn't be improved in this case with a third person view.
But she was puzzled. Why was he wearing it? He didn't like the garment and he resisted wearing it as much as he could.
Well, it wasn't exactly dislike, He couldn't really explain why except that it embarrassed him too much. Which was odd considering some of the things she had made him do. But, she remembered, the garment came with some interesting side effects as well. When he wore it he got hard, very hard, and stayed that way for a long time. That would come in handy considering he had just had her once.
“Please sir, “ she said. “I'm to be fucked for a very long time aren't I...?”
“That you are lass. Feel free to make any noises you need to.”
Well, that's not likely she thought. In this position? My back hurts, my legs hurt...
And don't forget your bottom Conscience added. Yes, thank you. No, she'd just have to bear it for as long as he wanted to, but if he was expecting any 'noises' he'd be disappointed.

Two orgasms, accompanied by some interesting vocalisations later, she was forced to reassess the situation.
Her legs didn't hurt anymore but they were definitely weak. They were going to have to finish, before they both got seriously sore.
Because staying hard for a long time wasn't the whole story. More precisely he wouldn't, indeed couldn't come at all while wearing the tutu. Of course he could stop anytime, but she was sure that he wouldn't. She wasn't sure if this had been his plan from the start or if he was improvising, but she knew what the logical conclusion was. It would have to be her decision.
She asked him, in a rather unsteady voice, “Please sir, can we finish...? Could you... take it off now and come in me...?”
“Aye lass, but you know the price, don't you?”
She did, because when he did remove he could and would come, and experience had shown that it was likely to be... memorable.
“I think so...”
“Very well, lass. I'm ready myself.”
He withdrew and she felt the tutu fall away. Then he came around to the box and stepped upon it again.
“All right love, you know what's to be done...”
As best she could she nodded.
She opened her mouth.



The Pillory

They had just finished watching one of those sensationalized TV shows which passed for history teaching. Stocks and pillories had been mentioned in passing as forms of antique justice.
“You know,” she said after it was done, “the obvious erotic possibilities of those things never seems to be mentioned.”
“Well, its a family show”
“I mean anywhere, even in books and things. They say the victim was pelted with fruit, occasionally they'll go as far as to say the victim was abused but never anything specific.”
“Our delicate modern sensibilities couldn't take any more.”
“But they seem to be consciously avoiding the obvious. The whole thing seems to be rife with the opportunity for hanky and indeed panky.”
“Oh, it absolutely was. If you were sentenced to an afternoon, two hours or so then you got the rotten fruit and public ridicule bit. But a sentence of overnight was effectively a sentence to be raped. Now if you could afford a bodyguard or had some friends willing to stay with you you'd probably be all right. But if you weren't well connected or sufficiently wealthy... and if you were what were you doing there in the first place? Well then you could probably look forward to a busy and eventful night.”
“Ah, I see. It's nice to know that my depraved mind isn't alone.”
“And don't forget how the thing is designed. You can't look behind you. If the person was reasonably quiet and discreet you wouldn't know if it was the pimply faced butcher's boy, the vicar or the judge who sentenced you. And thus any subsequent social awkwardness was neatly avoided.”
“How foresighted of them. I always forget how very creative and ingenious were our forefathers.”
“Well, it was a simpler time. They had to make their own entertainment.”
“Of course after a day of having rotten fruit and possibly animal feces thrown at our young lady, we are probably picturing a young lady I assume...Well, she might not be at her best,” she mused.
“But it's probably nothing that a couple of buckets of cold water couldn't fix. And anyway we're assured that our ancestors weren't so very fastidious.”

She was quiet for a while and then laughed to herself.
“What?”
“Oh, I was just picturing all those concerned men explaining to their wives that they couldn't possibly sleep worrying about that poor lass down in the pillory. 'Think I'll just stroll down and see how she's doing...'”
She fell silent again.
“Of course there may not be a word of truth to that. It may all just be just lurid fantasy...” he said finally.
“Well, lurid fantasy is pretty much what we do.”
There was another pause.
“So, now I imagine your conscience is trying to convince you it might be... interesting...”
“Funny you should mention her. I was just telling her that the fruit wasn't mandatory.”
“I see. All right, it's settled then. I sentence you to a three hours in the pillory. At night.”
“Three hours! What's the charge?”
“Being a loose woman of dubious morals.”
Well, he's got you there, said Conscience, and she had to agree.
“Fair enough. May I ask the court when will the sentence be carried out?”
“The accused is advised that the sentence will be postponed for a short interval.”
“Postponed? Why?”
“First I have to build a pillory.”

*****************************************

One evening a few days later he said, “I have a design ready to be tested. It's out in the yard.”
They walked out to the playground. She turned the corner and stopped to stare at it. Even though she knew what to expect it was still an impressive sight.
It stood in a pool of light. Apart from the single light the playground and the yard beyond were in darkness.
It was indeed a standard pillory, T shaped, made of dark wood with a large central hole and two smaller ones. The wood had obviously been well sanded and stained. Certainly the originals, banged together by the village excuse for a carpenter, wouldn't have looked so fine. It softly glowed in the light.
It was an impressive piece and she was planning a series of photographs, but it did present a bit of a problem.
Generally their toys were fairly subtle and easily overlooked by the casual visitor. They didn't even have a four post bed. But this... It couldn't be anything but what it was. They'd have to tell people they took it on the Ren Fair circuit.
Well, come to that maybe you should, murmured Conscience. People would probably pay for the experience...

He was obviously, and rightfully, proud of it.
“I took some care with the edges of the holes as well. Originally they probably didn't bother with such niceties but we don't want it to be uncomfortable.”
“Well no, we certainly don't want that.”
As she studied it she began to notice details. There were two rings attached to the base about 30 inches apart. Not quite as far as her original spreader bar had been, but their function was obvious. So I stand there, bent like so, nicely opened. But then what's that...?
On the opposite side to the rings there was a low box about 24 inches square and about nine inches or so high. She thought about it for a moment, considered the geometry. If a person, say me, was locked in it I would be bent over at about a 45 degree angle. That would bring my head, which is to say my mouth, to about that level... Then if a person, say for sake of argument, a man, were to stand on the block there that would put his waist, or more properly his penis...
Properly? said Conscience.
Hush. More accurately his penis at about that level...

She nodded. It looked like being an eventful night indeed.
He stood watching as she assessed and considered the device. Finally she said,
“I see. That seems to be clear. And now I suppose you want me to strip?”
“No, that won't be necessary. I think your Ren Fair gear would be appropriate.”
A couple of years back they had visited the renaissance fair. It seemed a shame not to go dressed up, but she had no desire to whip up an Elizabethan gown, so instead she had settled for a full skirt and a simple blouse that wouldn't have been out of place anywhere in Europe anytime in the last thousand years.
“You won't need any under garments, of course.”
Well, of course not.

Ten minutes later she put her head and hands in the device. He closed and locked it.
Then he fastened her ankles to the rings.
“Comfortable?”
“For a certain definition of comfort. I wouldn't want to be bent like this for long.”
“Well, that's rather the point of the device. I'll just leave you for a while...”
He left her standing in the pool of light unable to see anything in the surrounding darkness. She was visible, if anyone were passing in the alley, but she was facing it and fully dressed so she wasn't too worried on that score.

After several minutes she sensed him come back. He was right, she couldn't see anything behind.
He walked behind her and lifted up her skirts exposing her bare bottom.
Ah, it begins.
“Please sir,” she said in her best Ren Fair mock English. “Have pity on a poor girl...”
She shook her hips trying to shake down the skirt.
“Oh, that is delicious. That would gather a crowd right there,” he said tucking the skirt up. She shook again but it stayed where it was. Had he thoughtfully put a hook in the wood she hadn't noticed?
He reached under the loose blouse and jiggled her breast. She wiggled her bottom again expecting him to enter her, but instead he gave her bottom a hard slap. She yelped in surprise.
That hadn't been his hand..!
Four more followed in quick succession. There was a pause and then came five strong slaps on her left cheek.
Ping pong paddle said Conscience helpfully.
Then she heard him walking away. He had left her skirt pulled up. Her bottom must be flaming red, and to her embarrassment she felt her cheeks starting to burn as well.
Didn't expect that, did you, strumpet? said Conscience.
Oh, hush.

And then there was nothing to do but stand there, dress pulled up with a hot bottom waiting for her next visitor. The spanking had made her truly realize how vulnerable and exposed she was. Well, at least no one's throwing rotten fruit...
Not yet whispered Conscience.

After a while she heard him come back.
“Am I to be spanked again, sir?” she asked meekly.
“No, lass. Not right now anyway. This is the part where you get fucked.”
“Yes sir. Thank you sir.”
Out of the corner of her eye she could see him drop his pants.
“Well, you're a polite strumpet I'll say.”
He stroked her pussy and then entered her. For several moments he thrust and she tried to move with him.
Hmmm, not so bad a punishment so far...
“But you've a mind to use your mouth a bit freely. Let's give you something else to do with it...”
After a few more strokes he withdrew and walked around in front of her and stepped onto the bench. Her estimate of relative positions proved accurate.
“Now open wide like a good little strumpet. I don't like to ask any of the good village girls for this service, but as you've been sentenced as a 'loose woman of dubious morals' I didn't think you'd mind.” Obediently she took his penis, still wet with her juices, in her mouth and began to suck. After a while he pulled out and returned to her pussy, thrust leisurely for a while, then came back to her mouth again...
“Please sir,” she said when she had the chance, “when your time comes could you please spill in my cunnie?”
“Ah, you don't like the other as much? Well lass, that comes when it will you know, and you couldn't expect me to interrupt my pleasure if I happened to be at the wrong end of you at the time...” He sped up a bit and added, “ But...yes, I think this time you might be lucky...” as he began to come. He pumped away for a few moments and then pulled out. He gave her bottom a slap with his hand this time. “Thank you lassie.”
She heard him walk away into the darkness.

A while later he returned. There were no preliminaries this time, he just thrust into her. But something had changed. She felt something stiff and scratchy. She wondered what it could be for a moment and then realized he was wearing a tutu. But not just any one. She could feel it wasn't one of the floaty pastel ones they had made. This was the original, stiff, scratchy Magical Cursed Tutu of Doom. That was certainly unexpected. He hadn't arranged the mirror for this session, and for that she was grateful. Erotic as her position was she suspected it wouldn't be improved in this case with a third person view.
But she was puzzled. Why was he wearing it? He didn't like the garment and he resisted wearing it as much as he could.
Well, it wasn't exactly dislike, He couldn't really explain why except that it embarrassed him too much. Which was odd considering some of the things she had made him do. But, she remembered, the garment came with some interesting side effects as well. When he wore it he got hard, very hard, and stayed that way for a long time. That would come in handy considering he had just had her once.
“Please sir, “ she said. “I'm to be fucked for a very long time aren't I...?”
“That you are lass. Feel free to make any noises you need to.”
Well, that's not likely she thought. In this position? My back hurts, my legs hurt...
And don't forget your bottom Conscience added. Yes, thank you. No, she'd just have to bear it for as long as he wanted to, but if he was expecting any 'noises' he'd be disappointed.

Two orgasms, accompanied by some interesting vocalisations later, she was forced to reassess the situation.
Her legs didn't hurt anymore but they were definitely weak. They were going to have to finish, before they both got seriously sore.
Because staying hard for a long time wasn't the whole story. More precisely he wouldn't, indeed couldn't come at all while wearing the tutu. Of course he could stop anytime, but she was sure that he wouldn't. She wasn't sure if this had been his plan from the start or if he was improvising, but she knew what the logical conclusion was. It would have to be her decision.
She asked him, in a rather unsteady voice, “Please sir, can we finish...? Could you... take it off now and come in me...?”
“Aye lass, but you know the price, don't you?”
She did, because when he did remove he could and would come, and experience had shown that it was likely to be... memorable.
“I think so...”
“Very well, lass. I'm ready myself.”
He withdrew and she felt the tutu fall away. Then he came around to the box and stepped upon it again.
“All right love, you know what's to be done...”
As best she could she nodded.
She opened her mouth.
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