Renaissance Affair
A little story I submitted to the first issue of Oh, Murr starring Chaula and Pete, originally introduced in "Gently Kept which was which published in Give Yourself a Hand. This one was rejected, alas.
"Y'know, Chula, I don't think a sari is really renfaire attire," I pointed out. We picked up our tickets from the booth and stepped through the stone archway into the faire. It was already filled with a few thousand revelers, several stages with shows, and otherwise packed with shops selling knick-knacks, food, and beer. Plenty of beer.
Chula, an Indian tigress over six feet tall, compared to my five-something cheetah frame, grinned down at me. She was dressed in a flowing red silk sari, accented with golden jewelry. "I'll have you know that the sari is a traditional dress, and has been since at least 2,800 B.C.," she declared. She poked at my peaked green felt cap, tipping it over my eyes. "It's a lot more authentic than that Robin Hood outfit you're wearing, Pete."
I pushed my hat back up, and stuck my tongue out at her. "Yeah, but I don't think you would have seen one in Medieval England."
"We're not in England, we're in Maryland," she replied. "So if you want to be period authentic, go put on some buckskins, Cheetah Hood. Otherwise, shut the fuck up, and remember who paid for your ticket." She followed that up by trying to give me a smack on the ass, which I barely dodged.
We wandered around for an hour, catching the sights. Eventually we both grabbed beers at the pub in the center of the faire, drinking heartily while we listened to the Pyrates Royale sing some bawdy acapella. After they had finished, Chula belched behind her paw, and then asked me, "Want to hit a shop, and get a better outfit for yourself?"
"You know I couldn't get a summer job, Chula," I replied, licking foam off my muzzle. "I'm tapped out."
She leaned over and licked my cheek, making my black nostrils flare as I smelled the beer on her breath. "I'll pay. I've still got money leftover from that photography job I did for Uncle Taresh last year."
"What, am I your boy toy now?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.
"Nah, I'm thinking of moving you up to 'serf,'" Chula replied, flashing her fangs in a grin. Grabbing my paw, she pulled me to my feet. "I know the perfect place to look!"
She pulled me over to a leather goods stall, waving at the black furred vixen running it. "Hey, Middy!" Chula called out to the vixen. "Pete here needs a real outfit, instead of this Halloween costume he's wearing. Got anything that might work?" Middy looked to be in her mid-twenties, about five years older than Chula and I, and was dressed in definitely Not Period leather hot pants with laces up the sides, a black and red leather corset with frills at the bosom, and a pirate hat set between her ears.
"Oh, I think I've got just the thing," Middy replied, looking me over.
In short order she and Chula pulled out a pair of tight tan leather pants, and a matching open vest for me, plus a black belt with a hanger for the toy sword I wore as part of my outfit. "Don't I at least get a shirt?" I asked.
"Serfs don't get shirts, at least on my dime," Chula said.
"If you're serious about that, I can let you use the back room to change," Middy put in, smiling in a way that set my I'm so fucked radar off. "Anything you want from in there is 10% off."
"Ohhhhh," Chula purred. "Let us in!"
Suspecting I was pretty much doomed at this point, I followed along. Middy unlocked a door behind her counter, and we stepped inside. Racks of leather cuffs, collars, a couple of straightjackets, plus whips, paddles, and other "toys" greeted us, along with a St. Andrews cross shoved against one wall. Middy turned on the light and left us, closing the door behind her.
"I'm not putting on a collar," I said quickly, as I pulled my shirt off. In the close, un-air conditioned confines of the back room, we both started sweating, our combined musks making my black nostrils flare.
"I never said you had to," Chula replied, one fang hanging over her lip as she smiled and watched me strip. She leaned against the door, blocking me from any escape.
"I only let you tie me up once, and that was for a photoshoot," I babbled. The first time we'd had sex together actually, her stealing a quick pawjob while I was strapped down. That had been the start of a happy and sex filled relationship for us, though she hadn't tied me up since then. As big and strong as Chula was, compared to my skinny cheetah frame, she didn't have to.
"I remember," she said. She stepped towards me as I tried to pull the leather pants on, my ankles hobbled and my body off balance. With one paw Chula shoved hard against my chest, making me fall against the cross. She grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head, planting a deep kiss on my mouth, our tongues wrapping around each other. I felt her grip grow even tighter as she pressed up against me, rubbing her crotch against the bulge growing in my briefs.
"Gonna get your sari stained, if you keep this up," I gasped, as she finally released my mouth.
Chula grinned at me, keeping me pinned against the cross with her body, as she replied, "That's my worry, not yours." She grabbed a pair of leather cuffs from a nearby display rack, wrapping them around my wrists, and then hooking them to the rings at the ends of the cross' arms.
"Comfy?" she asked, stepping back to admire her handiwork.
"No," I said, giving the cuffs a fruitless tug. "I thought you weren't going to make me wear a collar?"
"No, you're going to beg nicely for me to put one on you," Chula replied. "First things first though." She tugged off her sari and left it draped over the rack. Then she tugged down my briefs, grabbing my erect cock in one massive paw as she guided it into her waiting pussy. The wooden cross groaned as our bodies pressed together, my muzzle disappearing into her breasts as she shoved my head down. I started to lick her soft white chest fur, her deep purrs rattling my ears.
"You want to cum inside me so bad," she growled, her paw pressing against the back of my head, keeping it down. "You want to fill it with your skinny cheetah seed."
"Mmmph... yef... " I mumbled, panting hard, trying to catch my breath as my face remained buried between Chula's two massive mounds.
"Beg nicely," she ordered, grabbing my ass and squeezing it hard, pushing our hips together even tighter.
"Please!" I moaned, my cock trapped inside her as she rode me standing up, my arms stretching tight against the leather cuffs as she pushed me down.
"'Please' what?" Chula growled.
"Please, Mistress!" I gasped.
She grinned, showing her fangs. "Good boy!" Chula bucked hard against me, and I cummed into her hot, wet, waiting cunt. My yowl of pleasure was muffled as she forced my muzzle deep into her cleavage, and she let out a triumphant growl.
Fifteen minutes later we had both dressed. Chula led me docilely out to the front of the stall, a chain leash running from her paw to the leather collar locked around my neck, my paws cuffed behind me, dressed in those tight leather pants and open leather vest.
"I'll take everything he's wearing," Chula told Middy, who smirked at us both as she rang up the bill. Chula's brow rose as she looked at the register display. "You'll give me store credit, right?"
"Cash up front," Middy replied, her bushy black tail waving as she glanced at my bare chest.
"Oh, wow," Chula said, her voice dripping with false innocence, "That's more than I've got on me, and I left my credit card in my other sari." She gave my leash a tug, and asked me, "You can cover this? Right, Pete?"
"Quit joking, Chula," I groused, squirming in my cuffs. "I told you I don't have a summer job!"
"Do you want one?" Middy asked me, looking absolutely serious. "I'm short-handed this season."
"Um," I said, trying to think, as the other customers in the stall took in our little show. "What would I be doing?"
"Watch the register when I'm away," Middy said, "And maybe model some outfits."
"Oh, he's good at modeling," Chula assured her. She handed my leash to Middy with a happy smile. "He's all yours."
Which is how I got my summer job. You ever heard of the term "Chained to a desk?" In my case, it was the stall's countertop for the next two months. Which was fine for both of us. Middy's stall got more traffic, as the faire guests came to gawk at the cheetah boi showing off the shop's wares, and I got an extra five bucks an hour. Not to mention a second girlfriend, who was more than happy to share me with my first.
But that's another tale, folks.