The Wooden Pony Club - Part 2
"Everything that brings joy has a purpose behind it," stated Charles Baudelaire during the Salon of 1845.
It didn't take long for me to adjust to working in lingerie at the club. The main difficulty was the heels, and by the end of each shift, I was almost spent. However, overall it was a delightful work environment. Despite having different rosters, everyone got along well. Desirée was an exceptional manager, who seamlessly balanced the rights and well-being of her staff with the desires and demands of the customers. I was content there, and I was indebted to Richard for securing me the job. The pay was excellent, especially with the tips that brought me more in a week than I had earned in a month at that poolside gig.
Matthew attended on the first few nights to cheer me on, and (of course) to admire my uniform; but we didn't stop by when I wasn't working. I usually worked Tuesday to Thursday; but when my probationary period ended, Desirée invited me to come in on the Friday evening to perform a few hours and then stay for free drinks and witness the entertainment. Matthew arrived just as my shift was finishing, around eleven o'clock. Richard was still working and made sure Matthew was supplied with complimentary liquids. I remained sober, eager to understand the motive behind Desirée's invitation.
At precisely midnight, the ambiance of the club transformed, prompting my surprise. The lighting switched to a lurid red. The band struck up ferocious, dissonant notes. The waitresses discarded their bras to serve topless. This alarmed me, but Desirée had taken it a step further. The music crescendoed as a circle of intense white light traveled across the room before stopping on the stage, which stood slightly elevated above the restaurant floor on three sides. Desirée emerged from the shadows onto the platform, entirely naked except for her black garter belt, fishnet stockings, high-heeled boots, and a silver-studded leather choker around her neck.
I was so flabbergasted that I didn't hear what she said before she retreated. A sense of anticipation filled the room as three people walked onto the stage. There were two men, one clad in a dark tunic and breeches with a hooded red robe, the other dressed in a leather jumpsuit and black mask. Between them was a petite, young, blonde woman swaddled in a white cape and blindfolded with a purple sash. The men held her arms to lead her onto the platform.
The man in leather approached the girl, grabbing her by the shoulders, spin her around, and ripped off her cloak. She was undressed underneath. He swiftly bound her hands behind her back with metal bracelets and linked them with a piece of rope. He wasn't harsh, but the girl groaned and gasped as he took his time securing her. He rotated her a full 360 degrees so that we could see her elbows almost touching. The pose appeared excruciating, and the girl grimaced. Her bondage pulled her shoulders back, pushing out her chest. Her breasts were small, but this posture made them look larger. They glistened with a sheen of sweat. Her nipples were hard and erect. Her eyes bulged through the purple veil as the second man, less delicate, forced her jaws open as wide as they could go and wedged a large red ball-gag into her mouth. He secured it with a leather strap, tugging on it forcefully, causing her head to jerk backward. He fastened a metal collar around her neck.
My initial shock soon transformed into wonder and arousal. Matthew embraced me tightly as we observed.
Red Robe strode onto the stage, up a small ramp at the rear, a triangular wooden structure. It stood on stubby legs, resembling a vaulting horse gymnasts jumped over, except that the top was not a flat surface but a peak, so that in profile from the front, it was shaped like an A. Straps were attached at various points along the sides. Black Mask directed the young woman to one side. Then, using a hand on her back between her shoulder blades, he propelled her forward until she was laying over the device. Now each man grasped an arm and leg to lift her onto the platform. Her ankles were secured with the straps. She was forced to sit up straight, straddling the peak-shaped top. Her weight, despite being slight, pressed her crotch onto the wood. The girl immediately began to squirm about, but this only aggravated her predicament. She soon exhausted her efforts.
The woman's face, only partly covered by her blindfold, revealed her pain and embarrassment. Her protests, muffled by her gag, could still be heard across the room. Then Black Mask raised her shackled wrists behind her, toward her shoulders, twisting her already strapped arms into an uncomfortable position. This was done so she couldn't use her hands to lift her body off the beam. The two men stepped back, allowing the audience to appreciate their work.
Matthew and I were left breathless and shocked, not uttering a single word. I looked around the audience, expecting to see some reaction to the girl's distress. Much to my astonishment, everyone soon went back to drinking and chatting, essentially ignoring the struggling woman. A waitress then took center stage, removing her clothing to dance provocatively to the music. Her skills were impressive, smoothly transitioning from one dance style to another.
I turned to Richard, who had joined us at the table. "The show is not over yet," he said. Then he noticed my expression and grinned. "Check out the wooden pony." He pointed to the device, which had a rounded pointy tip instead of a sharp one. This made it safe from causing serious injury. However, with the girl's body pressed against its most delicate parts, she couldn't have been comfortable.
Half an hour later, the second act commenced. There were two new contraptions next to the wooden pony. One was a pillory, a medieval device where a victim's head and hands were locked in. The other was a "sybian." I had seen pictures and heard stories, but this was my first time seeing such a device in person. It consisted of a seat or saddle mounted on a thick pole. When a woman sat down straddling it, her feet hung just above the floor. Protruding upward from the top of the seat was a rod with a phallic shape.
Two naked women were brought out. They were blindfolded and gagged, but I recognized them as off-duty waitresses who had been sitting at a nearby table moments earlier. Beth's boyfriend and Marilyn's husband were still seated there.
The men locked Marilyn's head in the pillory while Beth mounted the sybian. Red Robe bound her hands behind her back and the other man inserted his fingers into her crotch, massaging her until she was squirming and snorting through her gag. After preparing her body, they lifted her onto the saddle, attaching loops near the base of the upright for stirrups. She was now sitting above the rod, and lowered onto it until it entered her fully. The rod was lubricated and her vagina was already loosened for this by Black Mask's earlier efforts. Her ankles were strapped to the base of the upright. This saved her from falling off the device but also forced her to lean slightly forward, bringing her clitoris into contact with a raised, bumpy panel on the seat. When the interior electric motor was switched on, she immediately began to move uncontrollably. Soon she was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling, her breasts shifting to the rhythm of the rotating and vibrating rod.
Unlike the woman still squeezing the wooden pony (who was tilting her head, trying to figure out what else was happening), Beth and Marilyn's performances were not static displays. Two men from the couch next to the stage brought out whips. These were frightening objects, each a bundle of braided leather tails. Black Mask used one on Marilyn, and she shivered and shook her head. Suddenly both men began whipping her continuously. Their assault was relentless and brutal, targeting her back, bottom, thighs, breasts, belly, and groin. The blows started with a sinister whish and ended with a sickening, slapping, splattering sound, echoing the tails' violent impacts on her skin. After a dozen or so lashes, pink ridges began to form on her body. Through her gag, she yelled something, but I couldn't make out whether it was curses, pleas for mercy, or taunts for her tormentors.
I shuddered at the obvious enjoyment the two men displayed in their cruel act. Their victim had stopped screaming but was now yelling towards her attackers, and I initially thought her muffled screeching was either curses or pleas for mercy. However, I realized that she was mocking her captors. "Is that all you've got?" she taunted through her gag.
But the woman seemingly laughed as the men intensified the force and speed of the lashes, with each man needing to stop due to exhaustion from thrashing her naked body. In the middle of the beating, her blindfold was removed, revealing the audience's delight in her agony, allowing us to see the anguish on her face. Her misshapen smile still remained, but then her legs began to buckle, and she looked close to choking as her throat hit the lower board of the stocks. The men resolved the issue by lowering the device, making it possible for her to kneel. While this reduced the skin surface accessible to the whips, it didn't ease her whipping's intensity. By this point, her neck to knees were swollen and pockmarked with numerous flay marks. But when these merged into a single, bright red blotch, there was no room for more markings, causing them to stop. They then focused their attention on Beth and started thrashing her. The rod lodged within her served as an additional torture as her body moved, making it a tool of pain. She used her legs to push against the straps connected to the pole to lift her weight and lessen the pressure, but this was taking a toll, and when she dropped, the rod's jolt and thrust into her caused a spasm from head to toe. Some in the audience applauded and cheered in approval, but every woman present must have winced and shivered in empathy.
It was difficult to observe, but I couldn't look away. I felt humiliated, disgusted, and captivated by this gruesome display of young nude girls suffering for the amusement of the viewers. Their torment lasted just ten minutes, though it must have felt like forever to these victims of the crowd's sexual desires.
When Marilyn was freed from the pillory, she unsteadily made her way to the platform's edge. Beth was freed from her binds and released from the stage. When her feet touched the ground, she wobbled. One of the men tried to help her but she shunned him. Instead, Marilyn assisted her off the stage. Both women's faces, stained with tears and sweat, were a jarring contrast to their crimson cuts and purple bruises, covering their mutilated bodies. Yet they acknowledged the applause with broad smiles and raised arms in triumph. During the intermission, they reappeared at their table, unclothed but appearing unharmed besides the marks. In fact, Marilyn even looked towards Matthew and me, grinning and winking.
There was more dancing, and before the third act started, the girl on the wooden pony finally completed her ride. She could walk off by herself, albeit with a sway.
Three women were called up onto the stage this time. One had been picked randomly from the audience by the man in the mask. She was terrified, looking at her partner with disbelief, who just nodded. Despite hesitation, she stepped onto the platform, and was commanded to disrobe. The music began, and I expected it to be something like "The Stripper," but it was a slightly less terrible "You Can Leave Your Hat On." The girl felt embarrassed, but she removed her clothes dutifully. After being gagged and blindfolded, she was hoisted onto the wooden pony.
Unlike the previous pony rider, this woman was flogged. However, her hands had been shackled not behind her back but above her head, exposing more skin for flogging. But her punishment was lighter than that delivered to Marilyn and Beth, possibly because she was a beginner. And her companions were "virgins" as well.
These were a lesbian couple. They'd been cuddling in a corner and appeared stunned when summoned to the stage. Despite this, they willingly went up and stripped each other. It would've been interesting if one had been given the role of torturer, but a second sybian was brought on stage, placing them facing each other. The redhead, muscular and tall, made a loud whistling noise as the rod penetrated her. The brunette, small and slender, hardly reacted. Their hands had been bound behind their heads, and a yoke placed around their necks and tightened to bring them closer together. Their torsos were bent forward, but their lower bodies were secured to the seats with the rods inside them. They were also connected by a double ball gag, two balls combined so that when these went into their mouths, the women were locked in a kiss.
They endured the same fate as well, and then all three victims were inflicted with something that looked like a cattle prod. No part of their bodies was exempt, not even their feet's soles. Before this torture commenced, to prove that the electrodes actually carried a current, a male volunteer was shocked on the backside, through his trousers, which caused him to jump. He pointed to his friend at the table, and following a short argument, she bent over willingly. However, the man in the robe lifted her skirt and pulled her underwear down to poke her exposed flesh. She gave a yelp, and everyone around her laughed, whilst I trembled witnessing the three helpless women hearing the noise from behind the blindfolds and understanding that an awful fate was approaching.
When their ordeal concluded, they limped to where their clothing had been discarded, piled up together. However, one of the robed men stamped his foot on the pile, waving them away. They all giggled and retreated back to their seats, the redhead and brunette snuggling affectionately in the buff. The other female clung to her partner and gazed into his eyes, declaring "I love you." As he wiped a tear from her cheek, he replied "You showed me," and she nodded in agreement. This astonished me more than anything.
Matthew and I stayed for an additional hour. There were more exhibitions, increasing in intensity. The final display I saw discomfited me. Following a pony ride and abuse, a delicate-looking girl with silky black hair and glossy olive skin received a standing ovation. The man in red then whispered to her, and she nodded cautiously, displaying a determined expression in her swollen eyes. She lowered herself to her knees and then lay prone on the floor. With her hands tied behind her, it was no easy feat, and she landed with a thud. The girl lay motionless and still for a minute or so before Red Robe nudged her with his foot. She began to slither on her stomach towards the stage's edge, maneuvering like a worm without her arms. The men prodded her with their cattle prods until she had limped over the edge of the platform. There, a man from the crowd came to assist her, removing her gag and untying her wrists. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him. She unsteadily stood up and managed a curtsy before he lifted her and carried her off, past the backstage curtain and out of sight. The audience cheered in delight.
I was enthralled by each of these spectacles, aghast by their brutality but spellbound by the perverse ritualistic parade of degradation and torment. Although mentally drained, I was also weary, so I informed Matthew that it was time to leave. He seemed displeased but nodded anyway. He handed me my dress (since I was still in my undergarments) and I changed into it at the table, perplexing nearby customers. ("So that's where your discomfort lies?" I thought.)
Meanwhile, Richard joined us, prompting Desirée to pay us a visit, still in the nude. Thanks to the sparse pubic hair, I could see the gold glint of small rings that pierced her labia, seemingly connected by a small lock. It seemed as if she'd noticed my gaze because she smiled. She spoke a few words to both Richard and Matthew that I did not hear, shaking hands with each of them. She extended a hand towards me, but Richard grabbed my hand, tugging my wrist. Then, he grabbed her left breast forcefully. I inhaled sharply, concerned about his boldness; but she just laughed and ordered him to behave.
Likewise, I was enthralled by the women's durability and steadfastness in the face of their treatment, and similarly, I was captivated by this confident, naked woman, who appeared easy and content in the presence of her male co-workers and customers and the liberties they took.
Upon returning home, I shivered, not only from the cold morning air. The appalling displays we had seen, as well as my own discomfort watching female companions endure torture and sexual humiliation for entertainment, left me disturbed. However, what truly disquieted me was that I also found them surprisingly appealing and sexually enticing... and this arousal persisted when Matthew and I were back at home. He had sex with me with incredible intensity, causing pain. I remained awake until nearly dawn.