It was a play, a masque, a small cameo between three Players. Each knew it was a fake, yet each played a role that might be far too real. Mona was quivering as she bared her breasts, her bottom, and her arms, It was understood that girls to be tortured should be also bare. The trio had talked it over in a mixture of seriousness and desire.
"Suppose we hurt you, Mona?"
"It's a risk I take."
"You really want us to go beyond the border?" Caroline's voice was concerned. "We won't always know."
"Don't chicken out on me." Mona laughed at their hesitations. "Look, we've decided. It's done! Now tie me and stop dithering. Tie me before I get jittery too. Tie me-now!"
For the nearly naked Mona, the ropes were a caress, like welcoming hands. As her wrists were corded behind her back, the hooded man and the hooded girl heard the quick indrawing breath and beheld the flare of nostrils vividly alive. There would be no speech between them from now on. It had been agreed. Straddling the cross piece within the frame, the now bound maiden could make her own guess as to the intent of the tie. When her ankles were firmly roped, she knew for sure and was irradiated by the heat glow from her loins. It never failed.
Whenever she was bound for punishment, the heat flamed in an insistence of the agony to come. Mona had expected her chosen tormenters to break her in more slowly. To sit upon the horse was a mature punishment, an ordeal to make obdurate tongues eloquent. But the naked girl thus entering the world of punishment said not a word. She lay face down, her breasts and thighs bisected by the cruel edge on which she would later sit. When the gag was thrust within her mouth and buckled tight, she made no demur. She had yielded herself for interrogation. What was happening was by her own choice. But she had not expected the horse to come so soon. They had spoken of it as a final weapon in the defeat of courage. They had debated seriously the ability of any one of them to withstand its cruelty to the crotch. Woefully, Mona reflected it would not be long before they got their answer.
But suppose she held out! Suppose she did not nod in surrender! The bound girl contemplated this possibility and made a steely resolve to endure it to the end. The end might be unconsciousness but an end was there. There would be an end to all her travails, and this was comforting. To reach each separate victory would be a painful path, but a path Mona would tread with her own strange joy. Again, the inhalation of breath came as her breasts were fondled by loving hands. A pubic hair was plucked deftly from between the tautly bent cheeks of her round bottom.
The tackle to her wrists and the raising of her bare arms was to be expected, but the angle of the tug was not yet right for her seating on the cutting edge. Halfway up the slow tug stopped at exactly the right point to cause the pulsating nudity to bend forward on the plank's edge, a position she would now take even if not bound. It was when her arms were drawn back and up in the opposite direction that her real test would come. Mona was already in stern contact with the wicked edge and could gauge its venom. She wondered how she would behave when her innocent pussy took her full weight upon the unkind wood, and her raised arms compelled her to sit, and sit, awaiting the pleasure of those who stood beside her now, their intence regard cloaked within the enigmatic hoods.
"We should leave her like this awhile," said the man.
"Yes, she should have time to think of what is still to come, " said the girl.
Mona said nothing. She watched them go in silence. She strained and frictioned her nipples against the wood.
Somehow she would win.
