Thangaiku Theriyaamal Amma Magalai Oothen
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Just Another Day In The Market free porn video
Miranda had finished her grocery shopping and was heading back to her sister's house, when her attention was caught by a commotion coming from the town square. She hesitated. This was the third day of her visit, and the first time she had been allowed out alone. Her sister would worry if she was late. But the temptation was too great - she turned and hurried towards the sound.
The square was heaving with people. Although she was nineteen and probably as tall as she would ever get, she was a slight girl and rather short in stature. She could see nothing of what was happening. Hoping for a better vantage point, she made her way around the edge of the square until, by good luck, she chanced upon an overturned box left by some merchant. She scrambled onto it and was rewarded with an excellent view of the proceedings.
On a raised platform in the center of the square was a large wooden X. Bound to it, by wrists and ankles, was a young man. He was handsomely built and completely naked. His oiled muscles gleamed in the sunlight, and his ... thing ... hung down between his legs for all to see. Miranda gasped at the sight. Her upbringing in her little village had been extremely strict, and she knew almost nothing of the ways of the world, or the anatomy of men. "My God, what is that?", she cried. Taking this for a more general enquiry, the old woman in front of her turned and replied "We calls 'im 'old faithful' - erupts on the hour, every hour, regular as clockwork!", and cackled loudly at her own joke.
Miranda had no idea what this could mean. The old woman took note of her confusion. "Don't worry, dearie, it will all become clear in a minute or two - look, the hour is nigh..", she said. Amanda heard the great clock begin to chime the hour of eleven.
As the echoes of the last peal faded across the square, a young woman carrying a jug mounted the platform and positioned herself beside the bound man, so as not to obscure the view. She tipped a quantity of the oily fluid from the jug into her hand, and applied it to the man's ... thing. Miranda fancied that she heard him groan, but could not be sure above the excited murmurs of the crowd.
Before Miranda's astonished gaze, the girl commenced to stroke the oil into the man's ... thing. Within seconds it had become huge and rigid, and pointed to the sky. Miranda's innocent little heart fluttered at the sight of it. As the stroking continued, the man became more and more agitated, restrained though he was. Eventually he threw back his head and cried out. Skeins of glistening milkyness erupted from his ... thing ... and arc'd into the crowd, causing a great commotion of laughter and screaming as the people scrambled to avoid it.
Miranda struggled to contain the feelings welling up inside her. For a moment she feared she might actually swoon and fall off the box.
"What did I tell you dearie? Never fails, and never disappoints!"
"What did he do?", croaked Miranda in bewildered confusion.
Again, the old woman misunderstood the question. "They caught 'im diddling a serving maid in the palace. The Duke's right particular about that sort of thing, they say. If there's any 'anky-panky going on within his walls, well, 'e likes to be a full participant, if you know what I mean. So this is his punishment - every hour, nine to five, for five days."
"How awful!", gasped Miranda, still struggling to comprehend.
"Actually," continued the old woman, "I'll be really sorry when it's over. Made a nice change from the usual whippings, beheadings and such. And, of course, he's a very lucky man. If he was a commoner they'd have publicly castrated 'im."
Miranda had no idea what that meant, but was too afraid to ask. However, it gave rise to a terrible thought: "The serving maid - she must have been a commoner; did they castrate her?"
"Oh my Lord, dearie," cackled the old woman, "bless your heart, no, they didn't castrate her. No, the Duke's a bit soft on the ladies. He reckons they're too weak to resist their own urges, you see. They just dragged 'er up on the platform, then up with 'er skirts and down with 'er knickers, and tanned 'er bum til it was nice and red."
Miranda nearly swooned again as she imagined the awful shame of having her bottom displayed and spanked in front of the whole town.
"Largely symbolic really," continued the old woman, "never even broke the skin. Though I must say, she did struggle and wail most prettily as her little bum cheeks reddened up. My 'usband loved it - we 'ad to walk 'ome really slow, if you know what I mean."
Miranda did not know.
"Anyway," said the old woman, "it's been nice talking to you, but I got to get going - fish to fry and all that. Good day, dearie." And she wandered off.
She did not appear to actually have a fish, but that was probably the least puzzling thing about Miranda's recent experience. Looking around, she saw that the square had emptied rapidly and was now almost deserted. As she headed for home, hurrying now, she couldn't resist a furtive glance at the young man, still fixed to the wooden X. He looked slumped and defeated, though his muscles still gleamed in the sunlight. His ... thing ... deflated now, hung down, and still dripped white drops onto the boards of the platform. Miranda was mortified to find herself wondering how they would taste, and broke into a run.
Running head-down along the cobbled street required concentration, and diverted her swirling thoughts somewhat from all that she had just witnessed. But only somewhat. And was she imagining a certain ... dampness ... in her nether regions?
Arriving at her sister's house, breathless and flustered, she thrust the shopping basket into her sister's arms, mumbled something about a headache, and ran up the stairs to her tiny attic bedroom.
There, safely behind the closed door, she lay on her bed and tried to make sense of it all. As her breathing slowly returned to normal, her fingers strayed under her skirt to investigate the strange ... dampness. No, she had not imagined it. Good Lord, was there to be no end to the mysteries of this day? She continued to distractedly explore the unfamiliar slickness as her mind replayed the events of the last hour. She saw again the young man's ... thing ... convulsing and throwing its milky gift into the crowd. And she imagined herself dragged onto the platform, seeing the leering faces in the crowd, as rough hands lifted her skirts and pulled down her knickers. And soon she was panting anew.
And though her mind still did not comprehend, it seemed that her fingers did...
Continued in... The Serving Maid's Tale
The square was heaving with people. Although she was nineteen and probably as tall as she would ever get, she was a slight girl and rather short in stature. She could see nothing of what was happening. Hoping for a better vantage point, she made her way around the edge of the square until, by good luck, she chanced upon an overturned box left by some merchant. She scrambled onto it and was rewarded with an excellent view of the proceedings.
On a raised platform in the center of the square was a large wooden X. Bound to it, by wrists and ankles, was a young man. He was handsomely built and completely naked. His oiled muscles gleamed in the sunlight, and his ... thing ... hung down between his legs for all to see. Miranda gasped at the sight. Her upbringing in her little village had been extremely strict, and she knew almost nothing of the ways of the world, or the anatomy of men. "My God, what is that?", she cried. Taking this for a more general enquiry, the old woman in front of her turned and replied "We calls 'im 'old faithful' - erupts on the hour, every hour, regular as clockwork!", and cackled loudly at her own joke.
Miranda had no idea what this could mean. The old woman took note of her confusion. "Don't worry, dearie, it will all become clear in a minute or two - look, the hour is nigh..", she said. Amanda heard the great clock begin to chime the hour of eleven.
As the echoes of the last peal faded across the square, a young woman carrying a jug mounted the platform and positioned herself beside the bound man, so as not to obscure the view. She tipped a quantity of the oily fluid from the jug into her hand, and applied it to the man's ... thing. Miranda fancied that she heard him groan, but could not be sure above the excited murmurs of the crowd.
Before Miranda's astonished gaze, the girl commenced to stroke the oil into the man's ... thing. Within seconds it had become huge and rigid, and pointed to the sky. Miranda's innocent little heart fluttered at the sight of it. As the stroking continued, the man became more and more agitated, restrained though he was. Eventually he threw back his head and cried out. Skeins of glistening milkyness erupted from his ... thing ... and arc'd into the crowd, causing a great commotion of laughter and screaming as the people scrambled to avoid it.
Miranda struggled to contain the feelings welling up inside her. For a moment she feared she might actually swoon and fall off the box.
"What did I tell you dearie? Never fails, and never disappoints!"
"What did he do?", croaked Miranda in bewildered confusion.
Again, the old woman misunderstood the question. "They caught 'im diddling a serving maid in the palace. The Duke's right particular about that sort of thing, they say. If there's any 'anky-panky going on within his walls, well, 'e likes to be a full participant, if you know what I mean. So this is his punishment - every hour, nine to five, for five days."
"How awful!", gasped Miranda, still struggling to comprehend.
"Actually," continued the old woman, "I'll be really sorry when it's over. Made a nice change from the usual whippings, beheadings and such. And, of course, he's a very lucky man. If he was a commoner they'd have publicly castrated 'im."
Miranda had no idea what that meant, but was too afraid to ask. However, it gave rise to a terrible thought: "The serving maid - she must have been a commoner; did they castrate her?"
"Oh my Lord, dearie," cackled the old woman, "bless your heart, no, they didn't castrate her. No, the Duke's a bit soft on the ladies. He reckons they're too weak to resist their own urges, you see. They just dragged 'er up on the platform, then up with 'er skirts and down with 'er knickers, and tanned 'er bum til it was nice and red."
Miranda nearly swooned again as she imagined the awful shame of having her bottom displayed and spanked in front of the whole town.
"Largely symbolic really," continued the old woman, "never even broke the skin. Though I must say, she did struggle and wail most prettily as her little bum cheeks reddened up. My 'usband loved it - we 'ad to walk 'ome really slow, if you know what I mean."
Miranda did not know.
"Anyway," said the old woman, "it's been nice talking to you, but I got to get going - fish to fry and all that. Good day, dearie." And she wandered off.
She did not appear to actually have a fish, but that was probably the least puzzling thing about Miranda's recent experience. Looking around, she saw that the square had emptied rapidly and was now almost deserted. As she headed for home, hurrying now, she couldn't resist a furtive glance at the young man, still fixed to the wooden X. He looked slumped and defeated, though his muscles still gleamed in the sunlight. His ... thing ... deflated now, hung down, and still dripped white drops onto the boards of the platform. Miranda was mortified to find herself wondering how they would taste, and broke into a run.
Running head-down along the cobbled street required concentration, and diverted her swirling thoughts somewhat from all that she had just witnessed. But only somewhat. And was she imagining a certain ... dampness ... in her nether regions?
Arriving at her sister's house, breathless and flustered, she thrust the shopping basket into her sister's arms, mumbled something about a headache, and ran up the stairs to her tiny attic bedroom.
There, safely behind the closed door, she lay on her bed and tried to make sense of it all. As her breathing slowly returned to normal, her fingers strayed under her skirt to investigate the strange ... dampness. No, she had not imagined it. Good Lord, was there to be no end to the mysteries of this day? She continued to distractedly explore the unfamiliar slickness as her mind replayed the events of the last hour. She saw again the young man's ... thing ... convulsing and throwing its milky gift into the crowd. And she imagined herself dragged onto the platform, seeing the leering faces in the crowd, as rough hands lifted her skirts and pulled down her knickers. And soon she was panting anew.
And though her mind still did not comprehend, it seemed that her fingers did...
Continued in... The Serving Maid's Tale
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