SpringFete

Spring Fete

Copyright oggbashan February 2023

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

There are some Femdom episodes. If you don't like femdom - back click.

I fell into bed shattered at 2 am. My wife Maureen snuggled up to my back.

"Graham? Why do you do it? You get exhausted every time."

"I know, but no one else will..."

I rolled over and went to sleep. The alarm clock was set for seven a.m.

+++

Our large village of Seven Willows was the largest of four in the combined parish.

We were rather startled and disappointed when our elderly vicar retired and was replaced by a young married woman, the Reverend Rebecca Smithers. She had worked with our old vicar up to the New Year including Christmas.

But we were surprised when she announced in January that because the material state of the four churches needed work that we would hold a Spring Fête in addition to our usual Summer Fête. She had persuaded the owner of the Manor House, a retired pop singer and his actress wife, to sponsor the Fête.

We had been surprised when they bought the Manor House and slightly worried. We needn't have been. Their infrequent parties had generally stayed within the fifty acres of the grounds. The only signs we had seen were expensive cars arriving and leaving and some infrequent performances in the village pub - unannounced and free. They supported many village organisations and events, and were almost ideal neighbours.

Because it would be held on April 1st she asked us to consider some April Fool jokes as part of the fête and asked for the help of the organisations from all four villages. The jokes should be fun, not cruel and all those taking part should be aware that the joke was about to occur.

The object of the Fête was to raise money for repair of the churches, but if we had fun while doing it, that would be good.

The village organisations went into huddles in private houses. There was far more secrecy that had been usual for our summer fairs, and much hilarity.

As Chairman of the combined Parochial Church Council I was the major organiser and had been for the last thirty years. I had retired ten years ago and I was getting less active and slower than I had been. Organising a village fête was getting harder each year.

The pop singer, Richard and his wife Erica -- their real names not their stage names -- would provide financial support for the hire of the marquees, portable toilets etc. The new vicar would open the fête. But all the work would be mine.

The Spring Fête would start by a recital of pieces from the Messiah by the Mason's male voice choir. Of course some of the female parts had to be transposed because there were no sopranos or altos and only one counter-tenor.

They started well with 'We like sheep...' but somehow Farmer Gerard's sheep entered the Fête field and were pushed by his dogs among the Masons. While they were singing 'We like sheep have gone astray' they were surrounded and impeded by stray sheep.

Farmer Gerard's dogs eventually herded all the sheep away to the bottom end of the field until he waited for his turn to display his sheepdogs' skills

But the Mason's then started to sing 'Unto us a son is born'...

The recent Mothers' pram walkers joined the Masons and held up their babies, many of whom objected loudly even if they were greeting their grandfathers and fathers.

Andrew was the greatest hit. At three months he recognised his grandfather Abraham, giggled, smiled and pulled at Abraham's beard so that he had to sop singing and play with his youngest grandchild.

After the Masons had done their singing, the Fête was formally declared open. There were the usual stalls, most with an April Fool's twist. For example the cake stall was covered in garishly coloured cakes unlike their usual spread of Victoria sponges. They were all edible but looked gross..

In what would later be the beer marquee there was a sponsored event for adults only. Six couples had been sponsored to show off Femdom bondage skills using clothing left over from the Autumn jumble sale.

Each was in an open-fronted cubicle with the men restrained on a bed. The visitors, after paying a minimal fee, were encouraged to vote for the best bondage. Alan, restrained by Elaine, was the outright winner and they had raised the most sponsorship at over one thousand pounds.

What Elaine had done was to dress Alan in a three-quarter sleeved top over a stuffed bra under a full length slip before fitting a tight skirt. She had tied his elbows behind him, with a scarf, another scarf around his wrists at his waist, ropes above and below his 'bust'. More scarves were tied around his knees and ankles. A knotted scarf was forced into his mouth over her used panties and a scarf tied normally around his head. Finally she had fixed a rope under his armpits, tied that to the bed head, with a final rope from his tied ankles to the bottom of the bed.

Alan had struggled helplessly for all the time he was on view, and grunted pointlessly in to his scarf and pantie filled mouth. The other men had just laid there in their bonds. Alan's acting had stolen the show, but it took Elaine a quarter of an hour to release him, before they frantically kissed and cuddled on the bed. Alan hadn't been willing until each of their rehearsals had led to passionate coupling...

After Elaine had untied Alan he needed a quarter of an hour of massage before he could move. They disappeared back to their cottage for the next two hours. We all knew what they were doing.

The Reverend Smithers was delighted with the financial results of the Femdom challenge. Apart for the sponsorship -- two thousand and three hundred and fifty pounds, there had been £18.40 from admissions, and donations of £260 including Elaine and Alan's £50 for being the winners.

There were two different adult egg and spoon races. First the men competed in high heels. But Farmer Giles sheep impeded the course. George won. Unlike the others he had been practising hurdling on grass. The others had previously run on hard surfaces.

All had high heels that strapped on so no one lost their high heels George ran on the soles only and his hurdling practice had been ideal for the dozens of sheep in the way. He won by ten seconds - a long time in a hundred yard race

The women's race was in oversized wellington bots, also impeded by Framer Giles' sheep. Several competitors lost their boots or eggs and were disqualified.

But the two races had generated another £280 pounds for the churches.

The beer marquee, now repurposed, was supplied by the local brewery and cider makers. The prices were slightly lower than usual in the local pub, and all profits went to the churches. The beer tent was flanked by food outlets -- fish and chips, burger, German bockwurst etc. and curry. Again all profits would go to the churches. The local pub, adjoining the Fête Green, had lowered its prices for the day to match the beer marquee, and was donating the day's proceeds to the churches.

The next events were the children's egg and spoon races. There had to be three heats before the eventual winner was decided. Then the men's pancake races -- a repeat of the Shrove Tuesday women's event with a difference. The men wore high heels again, tight maxi skirts and waist aprons. They had to toss the pancake three times while running.

George won again, having practised on rough grass wearing the high heels and skirt.

The women raced next in large wellington boots and impeded by Farmer Giles' sheep. The sheep hadn't been considered necessary for the men who had already been handicapped by the high heels and maxi skirts. George's wife, Susan, won easily as she had done on Shrove Tuesday. She and George were serious competitors. The rest were just taking part for the enjoyment of making a spectacle of themselves.

About two o'clock I was making my way across to the display field, where a parade of traction engines and steam rollers was about to start. I was worried because the steam engines would be driven by wives and daughters of the owners. Could they control the machines?

As I passed the greasy pole I saw that Lady Celia Thynne was about to win again. She is the Deputy Master of our local drag hunt, and had won for the last five years. Assistance, except ropes, straps or spikes is allowed. She was wearing an old pair of riding trousers with rough sand paper attached to the inside of her knees, the inside of her boots and her gloves. She would win again.

At the event field I was met by Roger, Chairman of the steam club.

"Graham? Although we have some inexperienced drivers, their men are on board to help out. The event and the classic car parade should go well. Why don't you take a couple of hours off?"

Hours off? That sounded great. I would be on duty until past midnight, dealing with the impromptu pop concert that would end the day. I found Maureen, and after getting some food from the German sausage outlet we went home to bed. was surprised that Maureen was carrying a large Thermos flask.

My mind was still racing with al the other events that would need running. But Maureen rode me hard, so hard that after emission I went to sleep.

About three hours later Maureen woke me up with a cup of coffee. I tried to reach for the cup and found that my wrists were tied to my sides and my ankles fixed to the bottom of the bed. Maureen held the cup.

"Why, Maureen?" I asked.

"Today is April Fool's Day. The women of the fête committee considered that you have been doing too much for too long and asked me to make sure you took the rest of the day off. So you are staying in bed."

"But..."

"No buts. Everything is under control until tomorrow morning. You are staying here and will have your evening meal in bed before a night off. If you object? I will make love to you again and again until you are exhausted."

"OK, Maureen, I surrender. But I am still worried."

"You don't need to be. The women have planned everything with my help and advice. You kept a record of everything you did at the previous fêtes. The women have been planning for months. Yes, there might be difficulties and problems, but they are competent. You haven't been replaced, just given some time off. Not just you, but all the men on the committee had underestimated what the women can do. They are working with the Reverend Smithers to demonstrate that there is more talent in the women than the locals realised."

"OK. I knew the women could do things, but no one stood against me as Chairman."

"The women appreciated that you were very competent and a difficult act to follow. No one of them wanted to be Chair, but together they can do a lot. For the Summer Fête you will have several women assistants to help you."

"OK, I suppose, but I don't want to be tied to the bed for hours."

"You won't be, as long as you agree to stay there."

"OK, I surrender, and agree."

Maureen untied me. She went across to the chest of drawers and poured two bowls of soup from the Thermos. I hadn't noticed before, but our electrical hotplate was there and plugged in.

"This is the first instalment of our evening meal..."

"Maureen?" It was Fiona, the pub landlord's daughter.

"Come up, Fiona." Maureen answered.

Fioa had brought two plated dishes form the Pub's restaurant. She put them on the hot plate.

"OK?"

Maureen nodded.

"Then I'll get back to the pub. We're very busy."

The main course was delicious, followed by a cold sweet from a cool box.

Maureen cleared all the dishes to the chest of drawers.

"OK, Graham, you're staying here until tomorrow morning. I've set the alarm."

"But..." I started to say. My protest was stifled by a naked breast pushed against my mouth.

+++

Maureen rode more mercilessly for a long time before I feel asleep exhausted. The alarm woke us at seven am on Sunday morning. After a quick breakfast I went out to help clear away the stalls from the fête. We finished just in time for the morning service. The Reverend Smithers as part of the Parish announcements said that the Fête had raised eight thousand seven hundred and fifty pounds after expenses. That was more than enough for stabilisation and basic repair of the Seven Willows' church spire.

The Summer Fair would be on the usual date. But the Reverend Smithers announced that the organisation would be in the hands of four Parochial Church Ladies, under my direction.

"Graham has been doing too much by himself for too long. Yesterday's April Fool Fête was also to show that there were others who could help, and perhaps, next year, Graham can hand over completely."

The Reverend Rebecca Smithers and my wife Maureen had set me up.