On Saturday night of week three we gather at my apartment. Brad and Anne, having already been through it, can be trusted to be fair. Brad puts six poker chips in a basket and shakes them up. Anne draws. It's Mona.

 

"Oh, I can't do it today." she says. "I'm not feeling well. I'll do it next week, I'll come early, we won't have to choose."

 

It's always best to ignore such outbursts.

 

Three of us draw for tasks. Jeremy gets Positioning, Art Scourging. I get Succor.

 

Mona turns her back on us as she undresses. "Where is the loincloth?" she asks.

 

"In the bathroom. Be sure to pee before you put it on." says Anne. I look at Mona's butt as she leaves the room. In a few minutes she comes out. She has medium sized breasts with small pink nipples. We go into the smaller bedroom. The cross is on the floor. She lies on the bed, face up, trembling. The bed creaks.

 

Art goes into the kitchen and puts on the gloves I have placed beside the planter. He strips off a fistful of  leaves and returns to the bedroom. He caresses her left breast. She cries out as the tiny nettle hairs drive acid beneath her skin. He strokes her right breast firmly. Now both breasts flame pink. Her nipples are erect. Jeremy slides the cross underneath her body. He ties her wrists to the crossbar with smooth rope. He slides the dowels holding the foot platforms into the right position. Then we all work to raise the cross. Now she hangs, some of her weight on her arms, most on her feet. She is already crying. We fix the cross into its base.

 

We leave and go out into the living room, leaving the door open.We talk quietly, listening to her moans in the background. When they stop, we look at each other. It's not time to take her down, but we go in. Something has gone horribly wrong. She is hanging at an odd angle, apparently unconscious. The dowel under her right foot has broken off. Her arch is red. More blood stains the cross where she has scrabbled for purchase. I put my hands on her waist and push up, relieving the strain on her arms. She opens her eyes and groans. Jeremy slices through the ropes. She falls forward against me, her useless arms flopping across my shoulders.

 

We carry her into the bathroom and sit her on the lid of the commode. Dawn goes to the kitchen and returns with Gatorade. She has to feed it to Mona slowly since she can't hold a glass. I wash off her foot.  It seems to be a shallow abrasion. I spread antibiotic salve, bandage it. Mona slowly recovers, starts to talk, even smiles, relieved. She has been sweating heavily. I take off my clothes and turn on the shower. Mona stands up shakily. I grasp the Velcro straps on her loincloth and pull. I can smell urine as I take it off.

 

The others leave the room as I guide her into the shower. I grasp the soap and lave her, top to bottom, back to front. At certain times she gasps and quivers. Her breasts are still tender. I rinse off the soap and salt. She waits while I wash myself. She doesn't offer to help. She was shy last week, too.

 

 I help her out of the stall and gently towel her dry. She smiles at one point, grasps my arm, directs me in a certain way. I dry myself and we walk out into the living room naked, where they all smile at her. We all go into the master bedroom. There is no cross here, only four single beds. I lay Mona down, face up. Her breasts are still too tender to touch. I spread her legs and prepare her with my fingers, lips, tongue. The others have paired up and are removing their clothes. They rustle and murmur. When I enter Mona, she speaks my name softly. Soon four couples are calling out joyously. We encourage each other. I wonder which woman I will have next week.

 

Afterwards, we rest in each other's arms until the others begin to dress. They thank, they praise. I pull on some shorts and stand by the door.

 

"Goodbye, goodbye, see you next week." Then there will be only five chips in the basket.

 

Mona will stay the night. As we drift off, I ask her why she signed up.

 

"Because I wanted to see what He went through for us."

 

"But they used nails. It was much, much harder for Him."

 

"Yes, I know." she says, apprehensively.