Queen Branwen of the Ren Faire

"How do I look?"

Branwen emerged from the bedroom, smiling shyly at Reuben.

She had been giddy about this day for months. All her life, she had been a fan of the Middle Ages. In childhood, her favourite stories had been about princesses and knights and castles. As a teenager, she'd fallen in love with Heath Ledger in "A Knight's Tale". But she'd also become fascinated by medieval history, so that her bookshelf had included Ken Follett and Bernard Cornwell alongside Tamsyn Muir and Kacen Callender.

Now she stood before her boyfriend in her queenly raiment. Her dress was a rich shade of burgundy, and went all the way down to her ankles. Her neckline was lower than normal, showing off her prominent cleavage; perhaps in an effort to add some illusion of modesty, her neckline and her sleeves were both lined with faux ermine fur. The dress split down the middle of her torso, and was edged with gold braiding. She also wore a purple cape with a multitude of medieval imagery embroidered on it in black. Silver-coloured slippers adorned her large feet, with a slight heel that made her taller than ever. A gold-plated crown was set upon her head, contrasting with her dark auburn hair. Never before had she looked so regal as this. After she'd put on her makeup, she'd spent over fifteen minutes admiring herself in the mirror, twirling this way and that, watching her cape and gown swish delightfully.

If her partner was perturbed by how long she'd taken, he showed no sign of it as he approached her. The way he hungrily drank in the sight of her was enough to make her cheeks blush and her girldick to stiffen in her underwear.

"Your Majesty," Reuben declared softly, bowing low before her. Branwen giggled at his subservience; it was such a bizarre role reversal that she couldn't help but laugh.

Nor could she help feeling suspicious. Reuben knew full well that she loved to be surprised; the free-use party had only sharpened her attitude for the unexpected, for gangbangs, and to push her boundaries further.

That didn't matter for now, though. Everything seemed perfectly normal, and Branwen reckoned that she shouldn't be controlled by paranoia at every turn. This was a special day; she was going to her first ever medieval fair, and she would be going as a queen.

"Let us proceed to the carriage," Branwen demanded haughtily.

Reuben nodded obediently before holding the door of their apartment wide open. In contrast to her, he was dressed as a merchant in the Middle Ages might look. His tunic and breeches were of decent quality, and vibrant colours, but he was clearly below her in rank.

Branwen flounced her way past him, into the hallway. In one of the rare moments where she could enjoy their height difference, she condescendingly patted him on the top of his head. "I will not have any dirt on my hem."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Reuben answered humbly.

Sure enough, after he slung their shared backpack over one shoulder and locked their apartment door behind them, he dutifully picked up her cape and held the ends up off the ground, following her like a servant. Branwen couldn't help but brace herself for a slap or grope of her ass, but Reuben did no such thing.

A few people in their apartment complex passed them in the hallway, including a family of five who joined them in the elevator. The parents smiled and the kids giggled, asking if it was Halloween.

"And what sort of holiday is that?" Branwen asked them in an atrocious attempt at an English accent. That only made the kids laugh again.

"I'll not be laughed at," Branwen declared haughtily. "I am the queen!"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Reuben answered loudly, bowing to her just as the elevator doors opened once again.

As the family went out the main entrance, Branwen and her servant made their way to the parking garage. Reuben continued to assist her with her cape, even though it wasn't going to touch the ground anyway. Branwen made sure to walk slower, as befitting a royal, and also to see if Reuben would lose patience. He had always been a dom, after all, and she couldn't help but test the waters to see how he'd enjoy the shoe being on the other foot.

"Assist me inside the carriage, peasant," she ordered imperiously.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Reuben replied.

Cheekily, Branwen insisted that he not only open her door, but also assist her with sitting down in the front seat. She forbade him from letting any part of her outfit touch the metal of the car, which made for a slow and awkward entry.

Eventually, she was seated and buckled up. Reuben couldn't help but look irked as he slumped into the driver's seat and turned on the car.

"Are you not amused?" Branwen teased, smirking as she felt a taste of what Reuben so often put her through.

"Of course, Majesty," Reuben declared, stretching his lips into a smile.

"Well, I am not." An idea struck her so suddenly that she nearly burst out laughing. With trembling fingers, she unbuckled her seatbelt once more, and hastily hiked up her gown with little care for dignity. After some fumbling, she pulled her underwear down to just above her knees. Her long shaft sprang free, with the same curving shape as a longbow, quivering between her legs, as if it anticipated what she was about to say next.

"You have not kissed the royal shaft, peasant," she reprimanded her partner, trying to evoke the same tone of voice that

For a moment, she saw astonishment on Reuben's face; he seemed taken aback that she was domming him with such an attitude. It took all her force of will not to break the moment by laughing at her own audacity. Perhaps it was the extra-strong gummies she'd consumed before they'd gotten into the car.

Then, with slow deliberateness, Reuben unbuckled his car seat, leaned forward, and planted a soft kiss on the tip of her seven-inch cock. Before she could even react, he plunged downward and began to blow her.

"Ohhhhh fuck," she cried out in her regular accent, putting a hand on his head the way he would always do with her. She writhed in her seat, staring wide-eyed ahead of her. It didn't matter that cars were going by, she didn't care if security was taking notice. She whimpered with joy as Reuben sucked her off.

It seemed to last forever, or maybe that was her weed edible kicking in at just the right moment. She began to think that her voice was someone else's, but her cock was definitely hers.

Reuben didn't often give her blowjobs, but he was undeniably good at them. He hummed softly as he sucked her off, so that his voice vibrated along her shaft. The sensation hit her tenfold as she felt herself get very high very quickly.

Eventually, she felt pleasure bubbling up her long girldick. Branwen clapped both hands over her mouth and began to scream with anticipation, even as her orgasm burst into Reuben's mouth. He continued sucking her, even as she almost burst into tears at how good it felt. She lost track of how many times she swore as she slumped in her car seat.

"Verily," Reuben murmured thickly, even as he lifted his face to her and swallowed the last mouthful of her seed, "my queen has come."

Branwen burst into shy giggles, covering her face as Reuben gently put her panties and gown back into place. Then he buckled her seatbelt, re-buckled his own, and began driving them out of the garage.

This was no trick, Branwen sighed to herself. Reuben could have turned the tables on her a hundred times by now. She giggled at her own paranoia, beaming at her partner as he kept his eyes on the road.

She felt utterly dazed by her orgasm and her high; time lost all meaning to Branwen as she stared out the window at nothing.

"Hey," she finally murmured. "Where's this fair happening again?"

"You don't remember?" Reuben chuckled. "You took an extra gummy, didn't you?"

"I was nervous," Branwen whined. "And you can't laugh at me! I'm the queen!"

"Of course, Your Majesty," Reuben answered deferentially. "And to answer your question, it's at Reiger Park."

Brawen knew that park very well. It was a very special place, thanks to an old bylaw which permitted nudity within the boundaries of the park. In the name of naturism, families were also allowed to enter the park, as Branwen had seen on several occasions. Sex wasn't technically permitted, but as long as it was done away from the kids, nobody was going to try and enforce that rule. The boundaries were thickly forested to prevent normies from seeing more than they could handle.

Branwen had never been brave enough to strip down in Reiger Park on her own. However, her master and her other lovers had been granted permission to bare her body without warning; humiliation was, ultimately, her biggest kink after all, and she had always been turned on by whatever shocked mortified her. Thus, she could confidently claim that few things were more humiliating to her than to have her naked body gawked and leered at by strangers passing her on some forest pathway.

This time, though, she was a queen, and she was going to be treated as such. Not only that, this was going to be a kink-friendly ren faire, cleared by the city for a special day of debauchery. No families, this time; it was going to be all adults with all the fun that that entailed.

"What was that rule about queens again?" Branwen asked as she readjusted her gown.

"Only one queen at this ren faire, Your Majesty," answered Reuben. "And I made sure to sign you up for it."

"Really?" Branwen gaped in surprise. "So.... what's that mean?"

"Well, you're the queen of the fair," Reuben answered. "What do you think that means?"

"Wowww," Branwen giggled. "I love you sooo much!"

Her master - no, he was her servant today - grinned at her before turning his attention back to the road.

Time was hazy to Branwen, and she quickly lost track of the songs playing over the car radio. Eventually, though, she squealed with delight as the entrance of Reiger Park loomed up before her.

Right away, she saw that this was going to be a special day. Several people were entering the park, either in medieval clothing or in medieval-themed fetish gear. The fishnets were coarser, the leather was dull, and the masks were cruder. Branwen was utterly enthralled, staring out the front and side windows with her mouth open. She knew quite a few of these people from past get-togethers and events, while others were people she recognised from other aspects of her life, whom she didn't know had been part of the kink community.

"Your Majesty?"

Branwen turned. "Yeah?"

"The car's parked," Reuben observed with a smirk. "Shall we go in?"

"Oh yes," Branwen replied, remembering to speak with her refined and royal accent. "Open my door, knave! I command it!"

Still grinning, Reuben got out, walked around the car, and opened her door with a low bow. Then he took the end of her cape and walked behind her.

The first person to notice her was Jaclyn. She worked at Branwen's favourite indie bookstore, and she had hooked up with her and Reuben twice before. Now she was dressed up as a truly alluring tavern wench. Her big belly and bum were straining inside a skirt that accentuated her curves, while her H cups were squeezed into a bodice that made Branwen's girldick stiffen at the sight of them. Her black hair, normally curled into an afro, was sleek and shiny, spilling down to her nut-brown shoulders.

"Your Highness," Jaclyn called out as she stopped and gave a low curtsy. Branwen didn't hesitate to gaze at Jaclyn's considerable cleavage as she approached.

"That will do," she murmured, feeling herself blush. She was high as fuck and enjoying every second of this. She didn't look down to see if her erection was visible because she was the queen, and it didn't matter. She could do as she pleased today.

Accordingly, she held out her bejeweled hand before Jaclyn's face. Without hesitation, the curtsying woman leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on Branwen's hand.

Suddenly, an impulsive thought occurred to Branwen. "Since I am queen," she said to Jaclyn, "does that mean you will obey my commands?"

"Within legal reason, Your Majesty," Jaclyn answered, with a wink and a grin.

Giggling, Branwen impulsively leaned down and put her hands on Jaclyn's plump bosom. Her fingers pulled back the fabric of her bodice and exposed her brown breasts for all to see. "I want to see these out and about," Branwen commanded, even as she made Jaclyn squeal by pinching both of her dark nipples. "Stay by my side so I can play with them whenever I wish."

"Y-yes, Majesty," Jaclyn stammered, glancing about as people ogled her bare breasts.

"Good girl," Branwen cooed, just as so many had spoken to her over the years. Then, she patted Jaclyn on the head as the shorter woman kept pace at her new queen's side. She was blushing furiously, but she gave no sign that she didn't want to have her breasts out. Branwen knew full well what Jaclyn's limits were, anyway, and public nudity, while embarrassing, wasn't one of them.

It felt like its own high, really; Branwen had never before appreciated the idea of having power over others. But with her master following in her wake, holding up her cape like a footman, and one of her partners obeying her commands, it felt very good.

"Oooh, it's the queen!"

Branwen glanced at two noblewomen curtsying to her as she approached. One of them smirked at Jaclyn, who kept her arms behind her back and stuck her chest out as her queen had ordered.

Seeing the grin on that noblewoman's face, Branwen was seized with a daring inspiration. "Ladies," she declared, "why have you doth covered thy titties? That is only the queen's privilege!"

The two women giggled, then gaped when Branwen gave them what she hoped was an imperious glare.

"Ladies," Reuben called, "I believe we all signed on the dotted line."

Branwen stopped and stared at her master, only for another movement to catch her eye. Both noblewomen blushed, but they were dutifully readjusting so that their breasts were on display.

"Whaaa..." Branwen exclaimed, convinced that her weed gummy was making her hallucinate.

"Didn't I tell you, Majesty?" Reuben addressed her. "Your commands must be obeyed at this fair, as far as everyone's personal comforts go."

"Really?!" Branwen squealed.

"But of course, Your Majesty," Reuben answered, "you are the queen."

Branwen beamed as she looked about at the other people coming into the park. One man in a jester's outfit was grinning broadly at the bare-breasted women, but his smile quickly vanished when Branwen turned on him.

"Breeches down," she ordered sternly. "And dance before your queen wherever she goes!"

The jester balked at first, but then dutifully removed his lower clothing so that his penis dangled in midair. He began to cut a caper in front of Branwen and her growing entourage, his pale bottom glinting in the sun.

It wasn't long before they reached the open field which was hosting the fair. Stalls were about, and people were offering food, drinks, and merchandise related to the middle ages, sex, or both. Costumed

Once they reached the stalls, Branwen granted her subjects the right to cover themselves up again, but then immediately snapped her fingers at Reuben. "Your queen is hungry!"

"Of course, Your Majesty," Reuben murmured, though he did not move. "Shall I let your cape go?"

"Excuse me?" Branwen exclaimed. She gestured to the ground and raised her voice. "Dost thou wish for my garments to be ruined? You nasty little imp!"

Several people giggled at her beratement, but Reuben was entirely unabashed. A small smile was playing around the corners of his mouth

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," he murmured. "I forgot myself."

Still, Branwen decided to teach him a lesson. With the jester dancing in front of her, the three bare-breasted ladies by her side, and Reuben clutching her cape, she purposefully walked all around the stalls.

Everyone else seemed to have gotten the memo, because they were bowing or curtsying to her whenever she crossed their paths. Perhaps it was the high in her body, or the high of her new authority, but Branwen found herself issuing orders on a whim.

Men and women had to crawl towards her on their knees and kiss her cock when she lifted her dress. Merchants gave her gifts free of charge, or else people bought them for her. She sampled snacks from every stall, deeming each one unworthy of her royal lips. Much to her astonishment, everyone took it in stride. Some smiled at her insults, others reacted as actors in a play, begging her pardon in a dramatic yet artificial way. If anyone's feelings were genuinely hurt, Branwen saw no sign of it.

The more she got away with, the less bad she felt. The jarring sensation of being in charge was dulling, and she simply tried to behave as tyrannical as Reuben or Jillian might have done if they were in charge of her.

At one point, she grew bored of the dancing jester, who was looking very sweaty from his exertions. She gestured to two security guards dressed in soldiers' livery. "Where are the stocks?"

"Over there, Majesty," one of them answered. He was over six feet tall, and built like a bull. His black skin contrasted wonderfully with the silver chainmail adorning his bulky body.

"Lock this fool up," Branwen decreed. On a whim, she turned to Reuben. "And take this oaf too! This I command!"

Reuben and the jester both began pleading for mercy, making no effort to stop the guards from dragging them away. Branwen simply smirked, following in the guards wake. "Let's see how he likes it," she quipped to Jaclyn, who was dutifully following her with a bowl of grapes in her hands. "I wouldn't mind watching Reuben squirm in bondage for a bit!"

"Whatever you say, Majesty," Jaclyn replied soothingly, even as she offered another grape. Just for cheek, Branwen gave one of her soft breasts a playful squeeze as she accepted the offering.

The guards took the jester and Reuben to an open area in the centre of the ren faire. A platform had been erected, some four feet off the ground. Atop it was a great wooden circle, with two posts in the middle and smaller posts along the perimeter.

Beside this peculiar platform were a number of stocks. The jester and Reuben were both set in two of them, their hands and heads poking out from the front as they were made to bend forward into L-shapes.

Branwen cackled at the sight, even as she looked at her three ladies. "Tomatoes! I demand tomatoes! Your queen wants tomatoes!"

"But Your Majesty," one of the noblewomen spoke up, "whatever did these two souls do to deserve such punishment?"

"Bitch," Branwen retorted, leaning into her tyrant energy even more, "I'm the fucking queen of this ren faire and what I say goes! Now get me some tomatoes so I can hit my boyfriend right in his stupid smug face!"

"I think not!"

It wasn't the noblewoman who shouted that denial, nor was it Jaclyn. The high-pitched declaration broke through Branwen's power trip and her high, chilling her to the bone.

Whipping around, she saw who had spoken. She stood atop the platform, grinning broadly as she held a longbow like a staff. She was dressed in a thoroughly slutty Robin Hood outfit. It was a tunic of Lincoln green that barely covered her cleavage or her ass, leggings made of rough fishnet, and a green cap with a red feather perched atop her head. Meanwhile, her wild black hair had been cut into a short bob, barely going past her ears.

"Surprise," Jillian called out to Branwen, waving mockily with her free hand.

Branwen was frozen; the sudden appearance of her mistress, dressed as a rebel to her authority, left her utterly indecisive on how to react.

"I think we've all had enough of this queen," Jillian called out, looking away from Branwen and addressing everyone else. "What do you say?"

A chorus of affirmations rang out with wild enthusiasm.

Branwen turned to Reuben, feeling utterly vulnerable for the first time since she'd left the apartment. "What's this?"

Reuben was grinning evilly as he looked at her from his place in the stocks. "Did you really think you'd have it all your own way?"

Jillian was speaking to the crowd again. "This tyrant has ruled over us with an iron fist! Why should we stand by and let her do it?"

Grinning broadly, the people hailed these words. Jaclyn and the two ladies had already covered up their breasts again and were cheering with the rest.

Branwen turned back to Reuben. "Did you plan this all along?"

"To a point," Reuben called. "I figured all that power would go to your head, so the rest was pretty easy to figure out."

Panic seized Branwen, even as her ladies suddenly grabbed her arms and held them behind her back.

"No," she cried out. "You can't do this to me!"

"Oh no?" Jaclyn approached her from the front, smirking evilly. Without warning, she grabbed the front of Branwen's dress with one hand. There was a knife in the other.

Branwen squealed as the knife easily tore through her dress, even as her pale boobs, augmented into E cups, gleamed in the sunlight.

Meanwhile, the guards had approached her and secured manacles to her wrists.

"No," Branwen wailed, pulling against her bonds, staring at her captors wildly.

"I don't see the signal," Reuben called out.

He was right. Despite Branwen's protests, she didn't give the red light signal which would stop this procedure. She could easily have done it, too. But for all that she was shocked and embarrassed at this turn of the tide, for all that she was high and half-questioning reality after such a bizarre start to the day, she was also fully erect beneath her dress. She had suspected that Reuben might have planned something special for her, and now that her suspicions were confirmed, she did not give the signal to make it stop.

Meanwhile, Jillian had descended from the platform and was approaching the captured queen with an evil grin splitting her face in two. "I think you've given enough orders, Your Majesty."

Branwen opened her mouth - whether it was to beg, protest again, or utter a threat, even she wasn't sure - only for Jillian to reach into her cleavage, whip out a damp-looking handkerchief, and jam it between her teeth.

"MMMmPH!" Branwen screamed as a familiar taste of sweat hit her tongue. Before she could even think about spitting the cloth out, one of the guards tied a second rag over her lips and secured it at the back of her head.

"Hail Branwen," Reuben declared as one of the other guards freed him from the stocks. "Now let's show this queen what happens to fallen tyrants."

"MMPHMMPHHH! Mmmh! MPHHMMMPHMM!"

That was all the noise she could make from the platform, staring out at the crowd of people who gazed up at her. Their past reverence was replaced with vengeful mockery and unabashed mirth at her plight.

A strong breeze was picking up, causing her regal cape to flap wildly and her crown to nearly fall off her head. It was also a warm summer wind, which gave no comfort to her bared pale breasts, glinting in the sunlight.

The two guards had led her to the top of the circular platform, and stood her between the two main poles. Her wrists had been firmly secured behind her back with medieval manacles welded together so that she had to keep her arms in a strict box tie which pushed her chest out even further. Branwen was blushing fervently as both guards took full advantage of her bound state by groping her firm breasts and seeing who could make her moan louder. Her bulge was straining against the front of her dress, inspiring many catcalls.

"No touchy our queeny below her waist," Jillian ordered in a singsong voice. "She doesn't get to enjoy this too much!"

That earned her a stream of frustrated swear words from Branwen, though her gags made it utterly incoherent. It only led to more people laughing and calling out in condescending and sneering tones. That did little to help her high, which seemed to have doubled in intensity while she was being exposed and bound in such a public place. The cycle of humiliation-to-arousal-to-humiliation-again-to-arousal-again was going so fast that Branwen wondered if she was losing her mind.

As the Queen was held in place, Reuben and Jillian were quick to join her, connecting Branwen's manacled wrists to both poles with thick rope, drawing it so tightly that Branwen was forced to stand in one spot, yowling in protest as the whole of the Ren Faire ogled her exposed titties. The guards dutifully released Branwen and stepped back as Reuben and Jillian took charge of their tall sub.

"My poor Majesty," Reuben laughed as he approached her and gave each boob a hard slap. "Is this the throne you were expecting to have?"

Branwen gazed down at her master, gazing wide-eyed and shouting into her gags. She reflexively struggled to get free, which made her boobs dance wildly. Reuben slapped them harder, so that red welts appeared on various parts of her sculpted mounds. The once-proud queen let out a guttural cry of pain and embarrassment as she looked away from the savage triumph in her master's expression. In her frenzied state, she even began thrusting her hips forward, rubbing her rock-hard girldick against the inside of her gown.

"Awwww," Jillian cooed wickedly, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Is Queenie feeling horny?"

Branwen whimpered as dozens of observers roared with laughter, but she was too desperate for release to let that stop her. She continued thrusting, feeling her balls twitch as an orgasm began to brew inside of them.

"Oh, we can't have that," Jillian laughed. "That's utterly unladylike, after all!" She strode up to the bound and gagged Branwen, holding the same knife which Jaclyn had used to cut the front of her dress.

"Hold still, now," Jillian warned, with no mirth whatsoever. Branwen wasn't high enough to discount when her mistress was being serious, so she finally froze, pleading softly through her gags. Then she let out a shrill squeal of alarm as she watched the knife point cut a small slit in the front of her dress.

That was because her fully erect girl-dick sprang out from beneath her dress, sticking out like the pale pink mast of a ship.

"Hail to the Queen," Jillian called out to the laughing onlookers. "Long may she reign!"

Cheers broke out, as did an enthusiastic chant of "All hail the queen."

Even that wasn't enough for Jillian; she went one further and carefully teased Branwen's testicles out of her dress, so that they hung down the outside of the fabric. Thanks to a recent shave and wax, her genitals were entirely hairless, and fully on display to the onlookers and the hot sun.

"Always said you ought to tan down there," Jillian taunted as she began slapping and squeezing Branwen's balls.

Bellowing and wailing like a bee-stung cow, Branwen could do nothing but writhe about in place, shaking her head wildly and screaming in fury at her captor.

Since she didn't give the red-light-signal, however, Jillian cheerfully ignored Branwen's agonized and furious reactions. Instead, she turned to Branwen's grinning master. "Hey Reuben," Jillian called. "How did it feel to be put in those stocks?"

"Pretty damn humiliating," Reuben replied cheerfully. He was sporting a firm bulge of his own, Branwen saw, which only frustrated her further.

"I was appalled," Jillian observed, equally jovial. "You know what people did to stock prisoners, right?"

"Oh, I think I do remember, let me think..."

Branwen snorted and rolled her eyes as her history buff of a master pretended to ponder the inevitable and obvious. Unfortunately, Jillian noticed and gave Branwen's balls a few more slaps to make her smart.

"If I recall correctly," Reuben resumed, "they would be pelted with rotting fruit. It was a really degrading punishment, frankly."

"And she thought you deserved that?" Jillian demanded in a voice that was supposed to be indignant, but couldn't fully conceal the strain of laughter which she was repressing. "Well, maybe Her Royal Highness should get a taste of her own medicine!"

Branwen's eyes widened, and she reflexively began shaking her head in protest. That outburst stopped immediately when someone - presumably one of the guards - tied a thick blindfold over her eyes.

"This way you don't get to dodge what's coming," Jillian explained gleefully. "Enjoy your just desserts, Queenie!"

The circular platform suddenly came to life. Groaning and creaking, it began to slowly turn in place. Branwen cried aloud as she was gradually rotated, showing her body off in every direction. The effect was not enough to make her dizzy, but it was enough to allow anyone a chance to see her from the front.

Suddenly, something soft and wet hit her right breast with a loud and squishy splat. Branwen screamed, more from surprise than pain, even as she felt some wet and sticky liquid splash her face and gag. The smell of overripe tomato filled her nostrils. "HMMMPH! FMMPH MMMUHMMHM PHHUHPPHMM!" She had always hated tomatoes, and no she began to scream in fury and disgust. Laughter and insults rang out from all directions.

Another tomato hit her stomach, splattering the front of her dress and splashing tomato juice on her exposed shaft. The third tomato struck her in the forehead, just above her eyes. She squealed as the juice began running through the blindfold and against her skin.

More tomatoes struck her, exploding against every part of her body that they landed against. None of it was painful, but it was gross and degrading. Branwen's livid gag-rants rang out in the air, occasionally interrupted by the impact of another tomato inspiring a grunt or shriek from the captured queen.

"All hail the queen!" Jaclyn screamed, followed by a tomato crashing right against Branwen's cock and balls. Branwen wailed as she nearly fell to her knees, held up only by the rigid rope between the poles.

After a while, the tomatoes stopped flying as frequently, and Branwen could hear the crowd dispersing, chatting, selling goods. The missiles still hit her, but much rarer than before. It didn't take Branwen to realise that she wasn't even going to be the main event of this ren faire. She was being relegated to a sideshow. Somehow, that was even more humiliating than when she'd been the sole focus of attention.

Time seemed to have slowed down entirely when she was first tied up, and Branwen soon lost all sense of it whilst she was kept as a rotating target.

Her breasts felt warmer and warmer, leading her to plead through her gags for some relief. She was only given tomatoes in response, and a few mocking calls for her to shut up like the bitch that she was.

Eventually, a low whisper suddenly sounded close to her ear. "How's it going, Queen Branwen? Still feeling high and mighty?"

"MMmm-MMM!" Branwen moaned, shaking her head.

"That's right," Reuben laughed. "You're just a big pathetic bitch, right?"

"MM-HMMM!" Branwen nodded her head furiously. A few people were laughing again now, but she didn't care. The summer sun was strong, and her breasts felt like they were roasting.

"Well, you've been out here for a while," Reuben mused. "Those royal ta-tas and genitals are looking a bit crispy there."

"HMMMM!" Branwen affirmed angrily. She struggled against her bonds with renewed vigour, which only gave the spectators a show of her balls and cock dancing around while pieces of tomato flew off her hard breasts.

"Well, you should probably get some sunblock on those tits. If only they weren't so dirty..."

"Phhmmmm," Branwen begged her master in a high-pitched whimper which inspired more laughter. She could also hear Jillian cackling at her pathetic plight.

"What are you gonna do to get some sunscreen, hm? You gonna be the queen slut of this ren faire?"

"MM-HMMM!" Branwen cried out, nodding her head again. This affirmation was met with cheers, applause, and catcalls from people she still couldn't see.

"Well, you heard her, Jill," Reuben laughed. "Give her a wash."

Without any warning, a blast of cold water hit, who promptly screamed into her gags.

That didn't stop her from being sprayed by what she could only assume were buckets of water. The frequency of the attacks also made it clear that it wasn't just Jillian who was dousing her, but several people who must have quietly mounted the platform while Reuben distracted her.

Now she howled herself hoarse, struggling more furiously than ever, but it didn't matter. Her attackers quickly surrounded her, splashing her with cold water from every direction. Her gown and cape quickly became soaked, clinging to her body like sticky tights. To add insult to injury, several pairs of hands groped her body from every angle, especially her shrunken genitals, which quickly ached due to the cold and denied release after so much arousal.

"Hey everyone, you know what happened to slutty ladies in medieval times, right?" Jillian cried out as the water continued to douse the bound and gagged Branwen.

"Hell yeah," someone cheered. Branwen moaned as she recognized Jaclyn's voice.

"Hold still, bitch," Jillian ordered, her voice louder due to her sudden proximity.

She understood immediately what was happening, and she let out a stream of mumbled swear words as she felt a cold metal cage snap down in place, shrinking her cock even further than it had already shrunk thanks to the cold water.

"There we goooooo," Jillian cooed. "Our beloved queen is in proper chastity!"

"FMMMPH YMM," Branwen snarled, which only earned her a sharp slap to her balls.

"Manners," Jillian exclaimed.

Branwen whimpered with fear, recognizing that tone of voice. She had been so frenzied by the water and mockery and exposure that she'd forgotten just how dangerous Jillian could be when she had an excuse to punish her subs. Now it was far too late as she tried to brace herself.

"Let's give this bitch something else to think about," Jillian announced. "Did you bring them Reuben?"

"Did I bring them?" Reuben laughed aloud. "Is Branwen a kinky slut?"

Jillian giggled at that. There was a moment of silence, with Branwen wondering fearfully what they were talking about. Then, she felt hands grab each of her breasts, and a sharp pinch on her long nipples.

"There there," Jillian cooed as Branwen began to yelp and whine. "Queen Slut's really moody today, isn't she?"

"Must be the heat," Reuben laughed. "Oh hey, we forgot something, didn't we?"

"HMMMM! MMM-HMMM!" Branwen roared. Her breasts felt very sore to the touch under her master and mistress' grip.

"Hmmm?" Jillian echoed. "I dunno what you're saying, Queenie, you gotta use big girl words."

Branwen let out a half-sob of despair.

"Oh!" Reuben exclaimed. "I remember now! Queenie was gonna get some sunscreen."

A moan of relief left Branwen's gagged mouth as she waited to feel that soothing cream on her skin.

"Well," Jillian declared, "we gotta wait for this wet bitch to dry off, right? Otherwise the sunscreen will just slip off."

"HMMMMMMM!!!" Branwen thrashed as hard as she could, wishing she could get free and teach Jillian a lesson or two.

"Good point," Reuben observed, even as he squeezed Branwen's breast hard enough to make her stop her tantrum and low for mercy like the dumb muzzled heifer she was. "Just hang out here for a bit, Your Majesty, we'll take care of you soon."

Branwen let out another frustrated yowl. Her nipples were clamped, her cock was caged, she was still utterly soaked, her breasts were undoubtedly sunburnt, she still couldn't see, and she could only imagine how many people at this ren faire were taking in the sight of a broken and bound queen.

For a time, the attention seemed to die down. Branwen could only stand where she'd been bound, unable to speak or see. The ache on her nipples and genitals was constant. The summer sun was roasting her exposed breasts, but her clothes were still cold and damp. Worse than that, the smell of rotting tomato juice filled her nostrils with every breath she took. People in the ren faire continued to laugh at her plight or throw insults her way. All that, plus the weed coursing through her system, made Branwen feel as though she was going insane.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she felt cold cream being slapped onto her big boobs, eliciting a loud moan of relief from the captured queen. This gratitude quickly fizzled as the hands rubbing her tits gave her several hard squeezes and slaps.

"Just gotta make sure the sunscreen gets into these bazongas," Reuben quipped cheerfully. "You understand, right?"

Slowly, reluctantly, Branwen nodded her head. "Ymmph, mmphhhmm."

"Look at that," Jillian laughed nearby. "All that arrogant bravado's flown right out the door!"

"Yeah, I think this has been really good for her," Reuben laughed as his hands shifted to her caged shaft and swollen shaved balls. Branwen whimpered as sunscreen was rubbed into her skin.

"Still," Jillian remarked thoughtfully, "she could just be bullshitting us. She knows what a good girl acts like."

"That's true," Reuben agreed, ignoring Branwen's gagged protests. "Do you still wanna keep your promise, Queen Branwen?"

"Mm-hmmm," Branwen answered tentatively.

"What was that?"

"MMm-hmmm, mmmmmph," came her reply.

"Sorry, what's the magic word? I'm not hearing it."

Branwen growled furiously. She couldn't be fully sure if he meant "please" or "Master", but neither was a word that she could pronounce with a big balled-up handkerchief in her mouth. Even after all the saliva which had soaked into it, the cloth still tasted of Jillian's sweat.

"Come on, Queen Branwen," Jillian joined in. "No royalty forgets their manners, right?" Branwen felt Jillian lift up the back of Branwen's wet gown and lift it up to her waist. Then she felt something hard smack her big buttcheeks with a loud splat noise.

"MMMMMM!! FMFMMMP HMMMPH MMPHMM!!!"

Laughter rang out from seemingly every direction. Incensed even further by this derision, Branwen erupted into yet more shrieks of frustration and indignance. A part of her knew full well that this was exactly what Jillian and Reuben wanted, but she was too far gone to care. And besides, much as she was afraid of what was coming next, a large part of her welcomed it with an insatiable eagerness.

Both her full-time master and her part-time mistress were fully aware of this, and they were only too eager to oblige.

"Alright, let's get this queen ready to be a proper ren faire slut," Reuben declared.

"And you know, she did promise to be the ren faire slut. So let's see how serious she is about her promises."

Branwen suddenly felt someone undoing the knot which kept her OTM gag in place. When it fell away from her face, she hesitantly opened her mouth wider. Sure enough, Reuben's fingers slipped past her teeth to yank the soaked handkerchief out.

Before she could even sigh with relief, however, Branwen felt something else get jammed into her mouth. Even without the use of her eyes, she quickly realised that it was an O-ring, held in place with leather straps across her face and secured at the back of her head. At least it meant that she could breathe through her mouth again, so she took large gulps of air, grateful to avoid the awful smell of tomato.

"Boys," Jillian called out. "Take this tyrant to the stocks!"

Branwen could only guess who the 'boys' were, but she presumed that they must be the guards that had bound her in the first place. Sure enough, though she was still blindfolded, Branwen felt two large figures stand on either side of her, undo her bonds, and lead her slowly down the platform's staircase. Unseen onlookers were making new noises of excitement, but Branwen was more concerned about the agonized throbbing of her girldick against its metal prison.

It wasn't too long before she felt herself bent forward by the guards. Her neck and wrists touched wooden edges, first on the bottom, then on the top when the stock was padlocked back into place. Such was the angle of the stockade that the tall Branwen had to stick her ass up in the air, slightly higher up than her head. All the while, she felt drool run down her chin in several rivulets, no doubt making for a truly undignified look.

Suddenly, she sensed someone stand in front of her, only for something to pass through her O-ring and rest against her tongue. She grunted in surprise, then moaned at the familiar taste of Reuben's cock. She felt his hands against either side of her head as his cock thrust forward, filling her mouth and smothering her voice.

"That's it," he murmured. His voice was thick with desire, which made Branwen shudder. Her encased girldick throbbed with desire, straining against its cage with an effort that made Branwen whimper.

As Reuben continued to thrust himself into Branwen's mouth, she felt someone else grab a handful of her queenly dress, specifically the part covering her ass. Helpless to do anything but stand still, Branwen felt another tug, and heard the sound of a knife slashing through her costume. She moaned at her gorgeous outfit being further mutilated, as well as the sensation of her big ass being on full display. Cheers sounded as her cape was pushed to the side so that her bum stuck out through the new hole in her dress.

"Looks like our queen is ready to receive visitors," Jillian screeched. "Anyone wanna go first?"

"Glllk glllk, glkkk..." That was all the noise Branwen could make as her master continued to fuck her open mouth. Her body shuddered again, meanwhile, two slender fingers began liberally lubricating her asshole. While doing so, Jillian also took the time to run a feather along Branwen's buttcheeks.

"GGKLLL!" Branwen could barely move her head and arms, but she desperately lashed out with her feet. Unfortunately, because they were chained in place, there was only so much she could do, and it only prompted jeers from the spectators.

"Oooh, this queen's still got some kick to her," Jillian cackled. "Let's break this bitch in a bit, shall we?"

Her fingers slipped out of Branwen's asshole. The next pair of hands that touched her bum were unfamiliar. They were plump and sweaty, with unevenly cut nails digging into her skin. Beneath her blindfold, Branwen's eyes went wide as she felt an erect cock slip inside her. Her caged girldick was desperate to become erect, but the metal cage held it fast.

Branwen could do precious little as two different cocks penetrated either end of her. Reuben did his best to balance out their rhythm, but the man in Branwen's ass was either overly enthusiastic, inexperienced, or selfish. He rammed himself into Branwen as hard and fast as he could, all the while cursing her in a harsh whisper.

Mercifully, it didn't take long for this stranger to reach climax. With a triumphant yell, he slumped forward, gasping for joy. Branwen had no idea who he was or what he looked like, but his poor performance made her feel doubly humiliated. She would hardly have allowed this loser to use her like this, but now she was just his plaything, and would be the plaything of every other person at this kinky ren faire. On the other hand, this degradation fed that fire in her, fuelling her humiliation kink like few other experiences had done. In turn, this further aggravated her girldick, which sent waves of denied pleasure throughout her body. And all of these sensations were augmented by her lack of sight.

Then, as the stranger released her and stepped back, Branwen was deprived of another sensation.

Someone - probably Jillian - slipped two thick plugs into Branwen's ears, cutting off most of the noise around her. It was a bizarre sensation. The laughter and cheering became muted echoes. Her own voice was scarcely audible at all. And when a second cock pushed its way into her anus, Branwen was taken by surprise.

This one was bigger than the first, but no less eager. She cried out as it probed her roughly, even as a hand began smacking her buttcheeks with each thrust. Breathing through her nose only caused her to inhale Reuben's natural musk, while her taste buds were dominated by his phallus. His sweaty balls bounced and rubbed up against her chin, leaving a slippery sensation on her skin.

Eventually, the second cock in her ass reached its own climax, and was promptly replaced by another. This one wasn't made of flesh and blood, however, and it was much bigger than most cocks.

"Long live the queen!"

A guttural noise left Branwen's throat as she recognized Jaclyn's voice. She felt the shorter woman struggle a bit, pushing her strap-on inside Branwen's ass. For her part, Branwen could only imagine what it would be like to see Jaclyn again, to walk into her place of work. Jaclyn had a terrible poker face, after all. For weeks after their first hook-up, Jaclyn had blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl around Reuben and Branwen. Now, Branwen was astonished at how brazenly Jaclyn was enjoying this public use of her. And she could only wonder how many videos were being taken of this gangbang.

These thoughts, as it turned out, were the last straw.

As she stood in place, locked in the pillory, Branwen sensed that her dress was wet and sticky around her knees. It was then that she realized the truth, and a frustrated snarl left her.

In response, she faintly heard Reuben chuckle and felt him pat her cheek with one hand. 'He's enjoying this far too much,' Branwen thought scathingly, triggered as always by her younger dom's condescension.

She also noticed that he was maintaining a slower pace for his thrusts. He was edging himself in her open mouth, prolonging his own satisfaction while watching a line of people spend themselves up Branwen's ass.

And so it went on. Branwen soon lost track of the cocks that entered her, whether they were real or whether they were strap-ons. Her body soon became sore from these repeated uses, but the pillory held her in place. Thanks to the restrictive chastity cage, she also lost track of how many ruined orgasms were soaking the front of her dress.

She had first met Reuben when she was thirty years old, and he was twenty-five. She hadn't been a novice when it came to kinks, but she was certainly nowhere near as experienced or confident as he'd been. Right from the first time they'd met, although he was shorter than her and younger, she had felt utterly subservient to him, much to her simultaneous mortification and arousal.

Now, as she was kept in this demeaning position, Branwen was taken back to the first time she'd looked up at her master while his dick was thrust into her mouth. She had moaned then, and she was moaning now, much to the amusement of those in earshot.

She should have been utterly overwhelmed by the amount of people who had penetrated her anus, by the stickiness of her cum causing the front of her dress to cling to her legs, by the pain of the weighted clamps on her nipples, by the soreness in her legs from standing in one place, locked in a pillory, from the prolonged sensation of her master's dick in her mouth and throat. But while she certainly felt strained and worn out, she was also invigorated and ecstatic, with eyes only for her beloved master.

His fingers gripped both sides of her head, and his thrusts were slow and deliberate compared to the chaotic free-for-all that was playing out on her other end. Occasionally, he spat into her face and hair, as if trying to make her blink. As often as she could, she resisted the impulse, determined to show what a good sub she was for her master.

She continued to glare defiantly, daring him to release into her mouth, moaning and grunting the way she knew he adored. His cock's taste was a familiar and welcome one. It didn't matter that a literal crowd was watching (and participating) in her degradation out in the open. She was so far past feeling humiliated that now she simply longed for the taste of her master's seed, validating her complete subservience to his will.

In that, she was eventually rewarded. She sensed the approaching climax in his face. He was a fantastic poker player, but she knew what to look for; his eyebrows furrowed, but his eyes widened for brief flashes. His mouth opened, taking in a deep breath. She had long ago lost count of her ruined orgasms, but Branwen felt her spent girldick stiffening once more in its punishingly small cage, aching with anticipation. This sent pangs of pain through her lower body, on top of the latest dick ramming its way up her ass. A strangled cry left her throat as her eyes widened and became crossed. As she knew from various past experiences, her master could never hold back his passion when looking down at her "bimbo face".

"Oh," Reuben cried out in a raised voice. "Oh, fuck!" His seed was warm and sticky; it was all Branwen could do to swallow each rope as it spurted against the back of her throat.

After this initial burst, Reuben slowly pulled his cock back, so that the slower ropes slid right onto her tongue. Branwen groaned at the familiar taste. She gazed adoringly up at her master, fluttering her eyelashes at him like the broken slut she was.

As Reuben withdrew himself past her O-ring gag, Branwen slowly tilted her head up, so that she swallowed every drop of his seed.

"Good girl," Reuben remarked, so that only Branwen heard it. Then, he grinned as he stepped forward and wiped his glistening cock through her auburn hair.

"Hhhooorrgh," Branwen groaned, even as the jeers rang out. She tasted cum on her breath, the smell of cum was in her nostrils, her own cum was sticking to her knees, and countless men's cum was leaking out of her sore asshole down both the backs of her thighs.

Jillian suddenly appeared before the disgraced queen, smirking as she undid the ring gag from around Branwen's head. She allowed Branwen a few seconds of respite before shoving a new rag into her mouth.

Jolted out of her pleasure, Branwen shrieked at the foul, musky taste of this new rag. She immediately began trying to spit it out, but Jillian was already binding a thick cloth over her lips and securing the ends in two strong knots behind her head.

"No no," she urged in a faux-soothing tone. "Queenie's gonna taste all the guys who came in that big fat ass of hers, they all wiped their dicks off on that rag just for yoooouuuuuu! Isn't that sooo nice?!"

"FMMMPH YMMM, YMMM FMMMMMM MMMPH," came Branwen's muffled answer. That only earned her a cackle from the sadistic Jillian and a sudden smack on both of Branwen's swore buttcheeks.

"Time to make another adjustment, Your Majesty," Reuben taunted as he walked out of sight. A moment later, Branwen felt someone grab her cape and pull it taut. There was a sudden slashing sound as a knife cut through cloth. Branwen then squealed in surprise as something landed on her exposed rear end, tickling her sensitive skin. She figured out quickly what had happened. Her long, queenly cloak had been cut in half, so that it wouldn't cover her ass anymore.

"That's better," Jillian laughed. "Now let's get this renslut standing up again!"

The pillory was opened, only for Jillian and Reuben to grab Branwen's wrists and pull them behind her back again. Resistance was useless; Branwen was shaky on her legs, obsessing over the foul taste in her mouth. Her elbows were put into the box tie again, causing her to have to stick her sunburnt titties out for all to gawk at once more. The captured queen stomped her feet petulantly as she felt manacles close over her wrists, securing them to each other by what was clearly a very short chain.

She also felt her sore bum sticking out of the hole which Jillian had cut in the back of her dress. From the way it felt, the hole was perfectly sized and tight enough so that her bulbous cheeks stuck out of the dress, with no risk of her dress slipping back over them.

By the time Branwen was a teenager, and took the first steps of her transition, she had already grown to her full height of just over six feet, and was heavier than average without being chubby. Thanks to genetics, and years of estrogen intake, Branwen's body had been reshaped into an hourglass figure, with an ass that jiggled and clapped at the slightest provocation. She'd also augmented her breasts to E cups, which meant that she got a lot of looks wherever she went.

Now people cheered and wolf-whistled as she stood upright, blushing furiously as her ass, titties, and caged girldick were hanging out of her once-radiant gown.

"Come on, give these people a show, Queenie," Jillian ordered. "Jump up and down!"

Branwen turned and glared murderously at her mistress, but her defiance quickly turned to shock and pain as Jillian swatted the queen's royal jewels with a riding crop.

"I said jump, you stupid slut," Jillian yelled.

Whimpering, Branwen obeyed. She closed her eyes in shame as she felt her well-used ass cheeks begin clapping. More wolf-whistles and laughter greeted that sound, which Reuben and Jillian were only too happy to augment with slaps to her big white bum.

"Oh, look at the time," Reuben suddenly declared. "I think it's time we take our queen home!"

Branwen was surprised by that, only to look up and see that it was well into the afternoon. She let out a sigh of relief through her nose; her master always seemed to know when she was reaching her limit.

"Come on, Your Majesty," Reuben urged, pinching her sore skin. "Faster you get to the car, the sooner your punishment is over."

She needed no second bidding. Turning around, she sought the park's exit, desperate to get home.

The crowd, however, did not part. They all leered at her as she approached them, ogling her exposed body. For her part, Branwen was suddenly intimidated, meekly whimpering incoherent pleas as she tried to walk past the first few people in her way.

Without hesitation, all of them grabbed and groped her body, causing her to squeal and moan. Hands pinched her breasts and ass, and the pulled on her spent testicles. Her caged cock was flicked, her nipple clamps were aggravated, and some even pushed their fingers up her anus.

"Hail to the queen," one older man called as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and gave it a sharp tug.

The call went up amongst the others as they took their turn. When one woman gave her left breast a thorough slap, something in Branwen snapped.

Snarling furiously, she tried pushing past the next people in her way, trying to ignore their hands upon her, trying to break into a clumsy run for the park exit. She also tried to ignore the clap clap clap clap of her own ass as she ran faster and faster.

The crowd saw her jiggling fake tits, heard her clapping ass, and jeered her harder than ever. People splashed goblets' worth of water and alcohol all over her, revelling in her furious attempts to curse them while she ran.

Several times, Branwen's legs gave out and she stumbled onto the soft grass. In those moments, the crowd were merciful, assisting her back on her feet. When she was steady again, however, and resumed her sprint, the gauntlet began anew.

Just when Branwen thought that she was about to lose her last sense of sanity, the crowd ended, and she was faced with the same opening of the park which she'd passed through so confidently and so proudly several hours before. It was a sight to nearly make her burst into tears with relief... until she saw several people outside the park, staring in shock and disgust at this filthy, bound and gagged slut dressed in a ruined queen outfit.

"Welp," Reuben suddenly declared from just behind her, "I think I'll bring the car to you. Just stay here for a moment longer, Majesty."

"Hmmmmmph," Branwen cried out, in a pointless urge to make him hurry. That was in no small part due to the fact that Jillian had sauntered up and put one hand on Branwen's caged girldick.

As Reuben disappeared amongst the parked cars, Jillian suddenly undid the chastity cage. Branwen stared down at her genitals, watching her shrunken girl dick finally expand to its full length again.

"There we goooo," Jillian cooed. "Much better, right?"

"Hmmph," Branwen huffed, peering suspiciously at her mistress over her gags.

"Oh come on," Jillian laughed. "You fucking loved that, you big bimbo bitch." Her thumb and forefinger pinched a piece of loose skin on Branwen's testicles, stretching it several inches out so that the wrinkled skin became taut. "Right?"

"Mmm-hmmm! Mmm-Hmmm!" Branwen replied hastily.

"That's better," Jillian grinned. "Now let's get this queen into her carriage before you turn back into a servant girl."

When Reuben drove the car up to the entrance, Jillian ensured that Branwen was seated, and even secured her seatbelt for the disgraced queen.

"MMMMPH," Branwen groaned as they pulled away, looking at her master with pleading eyes.

Reuben knew exactly what she was trying to say. "Sorry," he laughed, "I can't take that gag off, hun. I've gotta drive with both hands on the wheel!"

"FMMmmmph," Branwen cursed.

"Well if that's gonna be your attitude," Reuben laughed, "maybe you should keep that gag on for a while longer."

Branwen glared bitterly at her master, even as her long girldick began sticking up, semi-erect between her legs.

"Wow," Reuben laughed. "You really are an insatiable slut, aren't you?"

Blushing for many reasons, Branwen only nodded in acquiescence.

END