Chapter 6

Tim & The Cage Van

While Alicia and Adelaide were talking, Tim Farracut was helping to shut up the pub for the night Looking out across the village green, he could see the lights around the vans. As the landlady grunted and headed off to her room he stared at the warm glow of lights from the vans, wistfully. He turned the last of the bar stools upside down on the tables. The floor would be swept and new sawdust put down in the morning.

His work done, he felt himself drawn to the cluster of tents and vans. Somehow he found himself standing next to the van where the Gimps were kept in their cages. Two of the cages were empty but the others were occupied. He’d never seen one close up, still less six like this. In a world where men were generally subject to women, the Gimps were legends; quintessential men, skilled in demonstrating the arts of service and obedience. The six were all shackled, all naked apart from the black leather hoods that was the badge of their calling. In some ways the shackles were merely conventional – they were solid enough of course but a Gimp wore his cuffs and collar as badges of honour amongst his caste. The hoods they wore, although practical in allowing sight or speech to be restricted marked them out as members of a submissive elite. Tim could see that they were obviously content in their chains; some sitting quietly in their cages staring out, others already sleeping. Tim was fascinated by the sense of calm, the sense that if the shackles or the cage bars were gone, the Gimps would remain. One raised his head and turned it towards him. Tim went to back away.