Chapter Twelve
We all began to stir, but also wanted to stay around to say hello to Ellen and David’s girls when they returned.
Andrea, filling time said, “You’re all going to the Faire next weekend, aren’t you?” She sounded as if an affirmative response was the only one that made any sense.
I, Dani, Gloria, and Monica looked at Ellen and David. It was plain none of us knew what she was asking. Finally, Ellen said, “Oh, no, wait. Well, I guess I saw a sign on the announcement board, but I don’t think any of us really knows anything about it.”
“You know, that’s right,” Andrea said. “I completely forgot that you two have never been to one! It’s always Memorial Day weekend. You’ve made such an impression, it’s hard to remember you’ve not been with the club forever like a lot of us have. It’s definitely the biggest event of the year.”
“So, what happens at this Faire?” I asked.
“The usual Medieval Faire kind of stuff,” Andrea answered. “More or less.”
“A Medieval Faire at a BDSM club?” Ellen said. “I never would have thought.”
Andrea said. “Hey, what could be more BDSM than the Middle Ages?”
“Makes sense to me,” Gloria said.
“Almost everybody goes, and they look forward to it, even with the lottery, or maybe because of it,” Andrea said.
“You mean like a door prize?” I asked.
Andrea and Viivi looked at each other and broke into loud laughter. It took some moments for them to settle enough so Andrea could say, giggles still bubbling to the surface, “I guess you could call it a door prize. Sorry to laugh at your question, Alicia. So rude! But I guarantee you, this is one door prize you don’t want to win.”
The rest of us looked at each other, and Andrea and Viivi again burst out with laughter.
“It kicks off on Saturday, and that’s when the main events happen. But there’s Faire stuff going on Sunday and Monday too. It’s great. Everybody really goes all out on their costumes. But the big event is Saturday when we choose our miscreant, and, of course, the drama that follows,” Andrea explained. “That’s why almost everyone shows up, despite the risk. In fact, you folks would appreciate the idea behind it. It’s basically everyone placing a bet. It’s a bet with very favorable odds: less than a one percent chance of losing, and a greater than ninety-nine percent chance of winning, or at least of not losing. But happening to hit on that less than one percent chance truly sucks.”
“So, maybe you might fill in the details?” Ellen asked.
“Okay,” Andrea said, “so the drawing.”
“Like someone’s name gets pulled out of a hat?” I just had to interrupt.
“No,” Andrea said, “nothing so simple and boring. Count on us to set up something with some real suspense to it. Everyone gets a numbered token. A matching numbered token is in a black bag. You know that Shirley Jackson story The Lottery? It’s kind of like that, except no family groups. Everyone is on their own. And, of course, no one ends up getting stoned to death. Although they almost might wish they did.”
“I have to say I’m getting more and more intrigued.” Ellen said.
“Well, everyone assembles in Botany Bay for this. There are always over a hundred people there, so this process takes about an hour. The dungeon master, who by the way is the only person excused from participation, pulls a token out of the bag. Whoever has the matching token is off the hook and leaves the room. And so it goes as the crowd gets smaller and smaller, and the people left get more and more nervous. During the drawing, certain selections determine the other players in our little drama: the magistrate, the sheriff and deputies, the witnesses. And the executioner.”
“Excuse me. Did you say ‘executioner’?” I asked.
“Don’t worry,” Andrea said. “That’s just what they used to call the person dishing out the punishment, even if the criminal in question wasn’t supposed to get hanged or burned or otherwise croaked. You know, just flogged, or put in the pillory or stocks, or put to the whipping post. The executioner was the one who took care of business. That’s the real prize, as it were. And the criminal and the executioner get picked last and at the same moment. And all along people want to be eliminated, but when they are there is a certain sense of disappointment that they’re also eliminated from being executioner, especially for the dommes. Finally, it gets down to where there are only two tokens left in the bag, and two people in the room with the DM. Then we added a twist at the end. The DM pulls out the next to last token and it’s that person, not the one with their token still in the bag, who is the ‘it’ for the rest of the day. The lawbreaker. The one who gets punished. The person whose token is still in the bag is the executioner. So, of the last two remaining one ends up at the absolute top and the other the absolute bottom.”
“Okay, so all that sounds pretty interesting,” said Ellen. “Like you said, no one back then needed BDSM clubs. The whole society was sort of one giant BDSM club, and people belonged whether they wanted to or not.”
“So, what happens to this criminal?” Gloria asked.
“Well, the unlucky person is immediately taken by the sheriff and deputies and put in the small jail cell,” Andrea said.
I recalled the tiny jail cell in which Monica had been imprisoned after Martina and Deirdre were through with her. And I recalled thinking how uncomfortable would be confinement in such a tiny space for any length of time.
“It’s not a comfortable place to be waiting, contemplating your immediate future,” Viivi said, mirroring my thoughts.
“The time limit on the small cell is four hours,” Andrea said.
“I gather people sometimes spend longer in the larger cell?” Ellen asked.
“Oh, certainly,” Andrea said. “Sometimes days.”
“Days!” I said. I seemed to be the easily shocked one in present company.
“Well, as with anything else, there are rules,” Andrea said. “A person can’t ever be in a cell or cage unless at least one other person directly involved with them is in the club. I think the longest ‘sentence’ I’ve ever heard of was about ten days. And the supervising domme must physically be on the premises. But something like that obviously requires a huge commitment on the domme or dommes who order it, because they, or one of them, always must be in the club. And, of course, the sub in question must agree to something like that. Although, that’s true anyway. Nothing happens to anyone at the club they are unwilling to undergo. And every cell has a panic button on the wall, and every cage has a wireless panic button, that the person inside can use to be let out immediately, no questions asked. I’ve never heard that one has ever been pushed except to test them.”
“Well, I’m impressed,” Ellen said. “I mean, we’ve been involved for getting on a year, and I know some folks there that are, let’s say, quite committed to the lifestyle, but I didn’t know folks took it that far.”
“Some do,” Andrea said. “And as long as it’s done according to all the safety rules then we let people pursue their own interests to whatever degree works for them. Anyway, the person chosen at the Faire, I’m afraid, doesn’t get the luxury cell. The one they get is two feet by two feet. So, when someone is locked in there it’s SRO. The same time limit applies to the gibbets in the cross room. So, the victim is hustled away and placed in the small cell, usually only for about an hour. Once the selection process is finished, the subs get to work setting up the front room for the trial. There are chairs to be set up, and this high desk for the person playing the magistrate to sit behind. There’s also a little platform, enclosed with a railing, that the victim must stand in. I’m sure you’ve seen something like it in some movie with a trial in Olde England. You know, the accused ‘standing in the dock.’ When everything is ready, the sheriff and deputies go fetch our lawbreaker and bring him or her to the courtroom and place them in the dock. Everything comes to order and the bailiff reads the charges.”
“Talk about role-playing,” I said.
Andrea laughed. “After the criminal is chosen and locked away, the DM and the others who will have active roles – magistrate, sheriff, deputies, bailiff, witnesses – get together and decide what the charges will be. Remember, anyone who wants to be at the club for the Faire is required to participate. So, the magistrate or sheriff, even the executioner, might end up being a sub. And the criminal has been a dominant on some occasions. That’s the situation that everyone really relishes, especially the subs: getting to witness one of the dommes having the very rough time.
“It’s developed into a pattern. If the criminal is a sub, either male or female, the charge will usually be public drunkenness or being drunk on the Sabbath or stealing. The subs always play the characters of common people or peasants and dress the part.
“Switches play the roles of middle-class sorts: a merchant or a merchant’s wife. And if the criminal is a switch, then the charge might be drunkenness or blaspheming or cheating a customer for a man, and drunkenness or committing adultery or maybe petty theft or fornication for a woman.
“The dominants are the high-born people. Not really royalty, because royalty wouldn’t be subject to law enforcement in some podunk village. But they would be the local aristocracy – the Baron or his wife or one of their family, and they come to the Faire in all their finery. I don’t think there is a charge the Baron himself might be tried on. So, if it’s a man he’ll usually be, maybe, the brother-in-law the Baron never liked, or his wayward disappointment of a son. And they might be charged with significant stealing or committing a grievous assault. You couldn’t charge them with adultery or wenching, since back then pretty much the only ones who got punished for sexual crimes were the women. If the criminal were a female domme then she would likely be the Baron’s wife who he doesn’t really care for and wouldn’t lift a finger to help. For her, the charge is usually adultery or harlotry.”
Gloria laughed. “You mean, like, she steals down to the village on a regular basis to turn tricks for a thrill!”
“You really have developed some dramatic narratives for this Faire,” Ellen said.
“It’s evolved into something quite interesting,” Andrea said. “I’ve never been the criminal at one of these Faires, knock wood. But almost everyone who’s been one has told me that by the time they got to the courtroom and the charges were read, they were really into their character. And by the time they went through the trial and were found guilty and then sentenced they completely identified with their character’s plight and felt they had really broken the law and were getting justified punishment.” She laughed. “The dommes can take it especially hard. I had one who months later was still telling me how completely humiliated she was that everyone knew she was a harlot!”
Ellen said, “Maybe it’s the BDSM creative mentality. People in this lifestyle seem to really have the ability to play a role.”
“You’re right,” Andrea said. “The sheriff and deputies begin to get a little rough. And the magistrate usually wants to see justice done and wrongdoers punished. And the executioner always takes his or her duties very seriously. Really, they have to. One year a switch was the executioner and went way too easy for most tastes in meting out the punishment. He heard complaints about that all year.”
“Speaking of being in the role,” I said, “don’t the subs want to be the one, you know, the criminal who gets punished? I mean, it seems like it might be right up their alley.”
“It only seems that way,” Andrea said. “Believe me, I’ve been at the club for more years than I’d care to admit, and I’ve never heard of a sub who didn’t dread being the one as much as any switch or domme would dread it. It has to do with what they’re there for. Some subs have a particular program they like to submit to, and the dommes, or dominant feeling switches, know that and will top a sub in their favorite activity. Or a sub might have a regular top who knows their predilections. But even the subs don’t want to be in a situation of having to submit to just anything they happen to be sentenced to.”
“And no one has ever backed out?” I asked.
“Never,” Andrea said. “Everyone dreads getting chosen. And whoever gets chosen always hates it. But everyone comes to the Faire under the same understanding: that the drawing will happen, and they might be the one chosen. So, they’ve made peace with that by the time they get out of their car. The Faire happens, this lottery happens at the Faire, and if they choose to attend then they agree to get what’s coming if they are chosen. If they back out at any time after the drawing starts then their membership is revoked, and they are no longer welcome. Also, club dues are due from May first to May fifteenth. Everyone has paid their membership fee for the next twelve months just before the Faire. So, it’s not like they’re only giving up the last couple months of the current year. I don’t know if it has ever made a difference with anyone selected as the lawbreaker, but it can’t hurt.”
Always one to address practicalities, I asked, “So, how is the person punished?”
“Depends entirely on the whim of the magistrate,” Andrea said. “There is always a combination of punishments. Usually the magistrate stays with parts of the club that relate to the medieval England theme. So usually the Triangle and the cross and the spanking bench are out of it. But the criminal might be sentenced to spend some hours in the pillory or the stocks. They might be put in a gibbet. They might be whipped at the whipping post. They might be bound upright and be whipped like they’re under a crossbeam. They might be whipped at a cart’s tail.”
“Never heard of that one,” Monica said.
“It was a punishment that goes back further than most,” Andrea said. “A person would have their wrists tied together. Then one end of a rope was tied to their bound wrists and the other tied to the back of a cart. Then the cart would be pulled slowly while the criminal had to shuffle along behind it and the executioner followed whipping them. Usually this went on for some length of time or some specific distance. The victim might have to be pulled around while being whipped for an hour, or for the time it took for the cart to go from the village square to some point, maybe the village limit, and back. Whipping at the cart tail became less common as villages became more developed and had an established whipping post and pillory and stocks. And generally, men and women were whipped at the cart tail nude.”
“You don’t bring a horse and cart into the club, surely,” I said.
“No,” Andrea said, laughing. “We always have a couple of willing steeds, that is subs, to do the pulling. But, like I said, the punishment the magistrate sentences the victim to is usually multi-part with some of it being corporal punishment and some public humiliation, just like it really was in the medieval world.”
“I gather the victim has to get naked?” I asked.
“It’s interesting. If you read historical records of these court proceedings, and the magistrate sentenced the criminal to be flogged they’re always first ‘stripped to the waist.’ Men and women. Or just as often ‘stripped naked.’ Over the centuries the nudity generally became less, just as eventually floggings were taken out of public view and into prisons, before being done away with entirely. But that part of it is, again, entirely up to the magistrate. But when it comes to nudity the magistrates do tend to lean in the direction of more rather than less.”
Ellen put her hand over her mouth and started laughing. “Oh, my God! Can you imagine?”
“What?” Viivi asked.
“Deirdre!” Ellen said. “In the pillory? At the whipping post with someone bringing up the color in her back?”
Andrea said, “I suppose I might as well tell you. I just know how disappointed you’ll be.”
“What?” Ellen asked.
“Forget Deirdre,” Andrea said. “I said almost everyone attends, and she’s part of the almost. For some of the more fanatical dommes losing the lottery would be just too far to go. So, they stay home and offer very mealy-mouthed excuses. Believe me, most of us have longed to witness that scenario, but I don’t think it’s ever going to happen.”
“Rats,” Ellen said.
“But it’s a good time anyway,” Andrea said. “I hope you won’t miss it. It’s supposed to be only for members but, Dani, you and your friends are welcome to attend as my guests, if you’d like.”
“This really sounds interesting, but I’ll have to try it out next year. Emily and Ian are getting married at city hall on Thursday and then I’m going to Wales with them on Friday for the big wedding there.” Dani said.
“Right,” Andrea said. “I knew that. Duh.”
“So, are you going to risk it this year?” Gloria asked Andrea.
“I have every single year for the past, um, eleven years I guess it is now. This year is no different,” she answered.
Then Ellen went to answer the door and the girls were piling in. We all stayed for another half an hour to meet them, talk about their day, and get to know them. Then me, Dani, Monica, and Gloria headed off to the El to return to Emily and Ian’s.
Chapter Thirteen
Would I like? It did not take much thought to realize just how much I wanted to be there. I just finished a degree in Sociology with a minor in Social Services. And along the way I had taken several classes that had touched on the social organization of older cultures. One in particular – Social Structures in Anglo Society of the Middle Ages – had sparked a lot of interest in me. Learning about the society from which American civilization had emerged had a great attraction. A significant part of the class had involved the criminal justice system of the time: floggings, pillories, and the evolution of the use of those punishments, and the victimization of women by the legal system in assessing blame for sexual crimes.
So, yes, this appealed to me very much. Imagine being able to witness something like this! The opportunity to see first-hand the best approximation of medieval justice one was likely to find in the twenty-first century. I could not let that opportunity pass me by. Every time I thought about the event, though, the meditation ended inevitably at: What if I end up being chosen?
It was one thing to have the opportunity to witness all this: to observe as a sociologist a criminal subjected to medieval justice and watch how a crowd in a faux-medieval setting would react and behave. It was quite another to be the center of all that pain and humiliation. But like everyone else planning to attend, I quelled my fears with the thought: It’s only a less than one percent chance of turning out badly, so don’t let such an unlikely event keep you from experiencing and observing this!
