Whither next?

To the pillories, of course

The area you're interested in viewing is reached through the front entrance, but is off to one side, giving spectators the option of passing by on their way out towards the turnstiles or avoiding it completely. Right now, the route is deserted, not even any stewards that you can see, so you saunter along, following the signs until you reach a veritable forest of metal and plastic structures designed to restrain and publicly humiliate their occupants. There are far more than you expected and you've counted past thirty before a panicked squeal alerts you to the fact that you're not alone.

The pillories are in a grid, a few paces apart and are hiding the squealer from your gaze, but it only takes a slight relocation to see what you've been missing. The youth who left the gents just as you arrived is crouching behind a girl with a brown bottom and full pubic bush, whose neck and wrists are currently residing in the three padded holes in the transparent plastic board that makes up the front of the pillory. Her jacket, scarf and personal whip lie on the ground next to her, leaving her wearing a replica shirt for the university team. You know that she has a brown bottom and full pubic bush because the chap has just pulled down her jeans and knickers and is trying to push her ankles into the two slots in the horizontal board designed to secure the occupant's feet. She continues to protest incoherently, refusing to move her legs as the fellow wants.