This was turning into the morning from hell. Being woken up by a strange man assaulting the soles of your feet is not an experience I'd wish upon anybody - and now I was being propelled down to the dungeon again (still freezing cold this morning) and being made to removed my comforting pink fleecy dressing gown. I suspected this was because yet another demerit was imminent.
Oh, heavens, I was right. Having made me strip, he tied my hands high above my head and placed a large board, studded with small sharp spikes, in front of me. Having spent some hours in his company, I'm afraid it was only too clear what he was going to expect me to do now. Why did I try to resist? From pride alone, I suppose; the idea of stepping obediently onto such an awful device seemed just to humiliating.
Of course, I knew it was pointless; my hands were already tied, and he was armed with the strap (which, by now, I would have dearly loved to burn!) A few searing strokes to my already aching bottom, and I stepped gingerly onto the board...
I was exquisitely painful. If I kept absolutely still with my weight equally balanced on both feet, the pain was bearable - yes, it felt like standing on a forest of pins, but I could cope, at least for a little while. But I suppose he'd already figure that out and was one step ahead of me; he produced a hideously sharp pinwheel and began rolling it over my body....
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