Cross bound at wrists and feet

Already she has walked from the point where the crux team dragged her out of the delivery van. Before that, Jo and her small group forced her to discard all her clothing, what little of it she wore. Now she was naked, in the middle of a field, in broad daylight, with hostile faces watching over her. Her captors study her body, looking approvingly at the firm, round breasts, trimmed bush, neat butt. Terrified, trembling with fear, she meets the instrument of her forthcoming torture and kneels to embrace it. After what seems but moments, she is forced close to the ground so the frame can be loaded onto her back. The weight of it almost crushed her silky, female body, but she is left like that, to suffer alone, as they watch. Some time elapsed before she was told to lift it, place it on its side. The rough timber tore at her soft flesh. Sat next to it, or standing, she tried to regain strength and composure, until forced to kneel under it once more. Then the frame had to be lifted over a shoulder and sore feet made to carry and drag it to a secluded clearing. There it was laid on the ground, over a set of blocks to keep it just above. Forced to lay on it, arms outstretched, she was bound at wrists and feet. The crux team lifted the head-end and pushed until the base of the long pole slid into a prepared hole. Long ropes at ends of arms allowed it to be pulled upright, until it fell vertical with a bone-jarring thud. Her pale body, bereft of any covering, feels the sun's heat. Now she will obediently submit to her fate