Joe was in his early thirties, and recently moved into the village. He new very few people in the area, the move having been mainly made so that he could be closer to his workplace. When one of his new neighbours, Mark, asked Joe whether he would like to help out at the village fete that was being held the following month he jumped at the chance. He thought that it would provide the perfect opportunity to become involved in village life.
The fete committee meeting started at 7pm sharp. Joe was keen and arrived early. He was waiting outside the village hall when the door was unlocked and people started to go in. A good crowd of volunteers had turned up. As with most such meetings, there was a good deal of talking, and not all of it relevant. Joe felt a bit of an outsider. It was obvious that everyone in attendance new each other well. They are probably the type of people that turn up to every village meeting going. However, Joe was made to feel welcome, even if he was given a bit of an interrogation by several middle aged women.
The time came for allocating roles for the fete. The usual stalls and activities were being planned. Tombolas, raffles, cake stalls, book stalls – but none of these really took Joe’s fancy. However, he was determined that he would do something. Before long, he had the perfect opportunity. The organisers were looking for volunteers to go in the Pillory. No one came forward, so Joe, feeling slightly nervous, put his hand up. It would not be too bad he thought, even if it did appear that he was going to be the only target for the entire afternoon. After the meeting, Joe went home. He was pleased that he was going to be participating in the fete. It was a real village affair, and was a day when the whole community would get together.
Over the coming weeks, Joe did not give much thought to the fete or the role that he would be playing in the afternoon’s fun. It took by surprise when, several weeks later, Mark mentioned that the fete was the Saturday coming. Mark asked Joe whether he was looking forward to it. Joe was not sure. After all, he was going to spend three hours locked in a pillory and be used for target practice! Mark asked Joe what he was going to wear for his ordeal. Joe had not really thought about it. Mark suggested that Joe borrow his wetsuit. Joe agreed.
The day of the fete arrived. Mark called on Joe in the morning, and dropped off the wetsuit. Joe thanked him, and left in on the chair in the living room. Joe carried on doing the usual boring household chores. However, his eye kept being drawn to the wetsuit. Joe did not really know why, but he found the neoprene of the wetsuit rather inviting. Even though it was not yet lunch time, he decided to try it one.
Joe picked up the suit, it felt quite heavy. Heavier than he thought. It was a thick winter suit, with full length arms and legs. Joe went up to the bath room, and took off all of this clothes. This was going to be the first time that he had worn a wetsuit, and wanted nothing to interfere with the feel of it against his skin. Joe undid the zip that ran down the back of the suit, and opened it.
He stood there, looking down into the two legs. They hung there, inviting him to slip in. Joe hesitated, wondering why he was doing this. He could not think of the answer, but knew that he wanted to.
Joe gulped, and carefully put one foot into the top of the wetsuit leg. He pushed it down, until his foot appeared out of the bottom. He repeated the operation with the other foot. The suit was quite a tight fit around the ankle and calf. Joe found this rather reassuring.
Time for the arms. He started with the right one, thrusting it into the rubber. The arm was just the right length, and his wrist was gripped by the neoprene. Joe pulled the wetsuit up onto his shoulder. Joe did the same with his left arm. He pulled the left shoulder onto his body. This caused the wetsuit to ride up slightly, and he felt it pull under the crotch. Fortunately it was just large enough.
Joe twisted round and pulled the cord on the zip that ran up the back of the suit. He pulled in up to the neck, and the felt the suit grip around his throat.
He looked at himself in the mirror. His body was encased in the black neoprene, with just his feet, hands and head protruding. Joe rather liked the slight pressure that he felt over his body.
The fete was still two hours away, but Joe decided that he would keep the wetsuit on. He continued with his housework.
At about 15 minutes to 2pm, Joe left the house and walked out to the village green. He found the pillory easily, it was much larger than he was expecting. Unlike those that you see at many tourist attractions with holes too big to really restrain the occupant, this pillory was constructed so that it could be used for its intended purpose. In addition to the usual holes for head and hands, this one also had foot stocks to really restrain the occupant. Joe was welcomed by the athletic, dark haired 20 something who was going to be his jailor for the day, and asked to take his position.
Joe wondered whether he was doing the right thing, however it was too late to back out now. He did not want to let his new friends down. Joe stepped towards the wooden pillory. Unseen under the wetsuit, he was starting to sweat. He carefully placed his ankles into the semi circles cut into the fixed board of the stocks. The movable board was swung forward, and a large hasp fixed it into place. A large padlock was added, so that it could not be opened. Joe thought that this was quite unnecessary! He stood there, his unseen feet held about two feet apart. He looked down at his wetsuit covered body.
Now for the head and wrists. Joe placed his wrists in the cut outs in the lower board, and then carefully leant forward placing his neck in the centre hole. The movable board was lowered, and the hasp clicked shut. Again, a padlock was added preventing it from being opened.
The boards making the pillory were at least one inch think, and the neck and wrist holes were a good fit for Joe, and it was impossible for him to get out of the device. There was just enough room for him to be able to turn his head and look at each hand in turn. Joe felt very vulnerable with his head exposed in front of the locked pillory. He looked down, but could not see much of his body. Joe was saddened by this, he wanted to see what the wetsuit would look like once wet. Oh well, he would have to wait until he was let out at 5pm.
Many of the villagers turned out to the fete, and the pillory was a popular attraction. Joe must have made an attractive target, as people where queuing for most of the afternoon to get the opportunity to throw wet sponges at him. Many where good shots, and Joe was frequently hid squarely on the face with a firm ‘thud’. He was held firmly, and there was no way that he could dodge the sponges. Some people took the opportunity to throw buckets of water over him, and Joe became well and truly wet as the afternoon progressed. It was just as well that he had taken up the offer of the wetsuit.
Finally, at 5pm Joe was let out. The pillory was opened, and Joe took the opportunity to stretch after having been locked up for three hours. While he welcomed the newly found freedom, Joe had enjoyed the afternoon, and was slightly saddened that it was all over.
He walked back home, still in the wetsuit. He went up to the bathroom to get changed. He caught sight of himself in the mirror. Joe then thought that he would not get changed yet, but keep the wetsuit on a little longer. It would not do any harm. And there was always next years fete to look forward to…
To be continued… In part 2.