Chapter 9

The Performance

Adelaide counted the last of the day’s takings into the cash box. She locked it and slid the box into the safe in her caravan. She was pleased. The tent would be full again tonight and that was good for the audience, for the performers pockets and for the Gimps too; she knew how they hated to perform in front of a half-empty tent. She turned to the wardrobe. It was time to get ready.

In their own van the other performers were already preparing. The show was, they knew, as much about the glitter and razzmatazz that they provided as it was about anything the Gimps could be persuaded to show.

As the last of the audience crowded into the tent to take their seats, Vesta, already prepared for the show, went down to the cage van to ready the Gimps for their entrance. They had all done the show many times and were completely ready but custom demanded that one of the trainers appear, dressed in some intimidating fashion, to provide incentive for the work ahead. “Are you ready boys?” she asked.

A muttered chorus of “Yes, Miss Vesta,” answered her.

“Remember my long tail whip and my leather paddle will be keen to help any that fail tonight.”

“Yes, Miss Vesta.”

“Then let us begin.” She unlocked the cages in turn and unfastened the shackles of the Gimps within. Freed from confinement, each climbed down to the floor, pressed his lips against each of Vesta’s booted feet as tradition demanded, and then knelt silently. They were ready to perform.

Vesta pretended not to notice a shadowy figure hiding in the dark behind the cage van. Aimee had been right; Miss Adams from the Hasebury Nag had closed the pub when it became obvious the entire village would be at the show. Tim, the bar-boy, had noticed her walking across the green to join the rest and had slipped out. He was determined to catch a glimpse of the show from near the gateway where the performers entered and left the arena. He held his breath, hoping not to be seen as Vesta unlocked each of the cages in turn and encouraged the Gimps down to the ground ready to go in to perform. Unnoticed, he managed to get himself to a place where he could hold back a flap of canvas and see into the arena.

Inside the tent, the space was divided up between the seats for the audience and the central performing circle. The best seats stood immediately opposite the entrance to the arena. Here sat Alicia and her less than willing husband, members of the Parish Council and one or two of the larger landowners. On either side on less comfortable benches were arrayed others of the village, mostly women but in a few cases with their men in tow too. Aimee and the rest of the girls from the pub were together. She could see across the ring that Nancy from Ivy Cottage was there with her husband. At least she has him on a leash tonight, she thought. Perhaps they would fit in with the village after all.

The lights in the tent began to dim and a quiet fell across the auditorium, The audience could tell that a figure had stepped forward into the arena. A moment later a limelight shot a bright shaft into the arena, highlighting Mistress Adelaide, finely attired in scarlet coat, fishnet tights and a dramatically tilted top – hat. She called for their attention.

“Your Ladyship, Members of the Council, Ladies & those you have brought along - Welcome! Tonight you will see what dedication to obedience can bring. Each and every one of those performing tonight has been brought to their level of skill by a regime of direction, correction, reward and reinforcement that any of you ladies here tonight can follow.” At this some of the men in the audience looked nervous. “So, now, for your instruction but most of all for your very great amusement and entertainment, I present to you, Mistress Adelaide’s Travelling Gimp Circus!”

Out of sight, near the entrance to the arena, a small band made up of two of the engine drivers and two of the stokers struck up a dramatic fanfare on trumpet, trombone and drums as Vesta led the eight men into the arena.

In contrast to Adelaide’s theatrical outfit, Vesta’s appearance was almost menacing. She wore a long, dark, high-necked cloak, that flew open as she walked to reveal a close fitting outfit of leather and long boots beneath. She carried a whip. Its tail slid behind her across the arena, flicking into life, like a snake, with each twist of her wrist. She took up her place in the centre of the arena, the whip still moving, flicking up little clouds of sawdust as the men paraded around the edge of the arena. They were equally fetishistically attired wearing leather harnesses over their naked bodies, wrist and ankle cuffs, and small leather pouches over their genitals, together with their status-defining leather hoods that masked their expressions.

The applause of the audience at Vesta and the men’s appearance gave way to cat-calls from a few of the villagers, much to the disapproval of some of the Council members. Mistress Adelaide seemed to not mind their raucous enthusiasm but cautioned them to “Please not lean forward too far, in order to avoid distracting or disturbing the performers.”

“Just getting ‘em to walk in step’s impressive enough,” Janice said to Aimee. The group of friends from the Hasebury Nag were all sitting together.

“There’s some specimens there though – look how the light glints on the oil on their bodies. You’d slide off them in bed!” Nisha blushed at Aimee’s suggestion but she couldn’t help admiring the physique of the Gimp standing nearest to her.

“Not sure I think oiling up Terry would be a good idea, from what you say he’s hard enough to get hold of at the best of times!” Jennifer chipped in.

“Maybe not, but the harness and cuffs is another matter.” The girls laughed as the men paraded past for several circuits until Vesta gave a single crack of the whip and the men turned as one and ran out through the entrance way.