Part 22
Riding
The air inside Abyss on that particular Friday night was thick with anticipation. The main stage pulsed with rhythmic basslines, and the usual symphony of clicking heels, whispered wagers, and teasing gasps played beneath the surface of the music. Colored lights danced across latex and leather, and the scent of heat-warmed rubber mixed with incense created that unmistakable Abyss perfume: luxurious, decadent, and just slightly dangerous.
Claudia, the unlucky waitress, was among the crowd, dressed in her latex minidress. She spotted Elise at the bar, but decided to stay away. Nadia stood near the edge of the main floor, champagne glasses in hand. She had long since lost the awkward stiffness of when moving in the belt. Since being locked, Nadia had found herself returning again and again not just out of curiosity, but out of a growing attachment. She observed Evelyn, but even more so Elise and Alexandru, trying to learn how they thought. Looking for weaknesses, quirks, fights, between them. She’d suffer as long as they were a couple. She spotted them at the bar. Alexandru’s hand resting on Elise’s thigh. Nadia turned away in hurt.
Tonight, however, seemed not about them. A new game was played again.
Evelyn stepped onto the stage.
The crowd immediately hushed. Dressed in a corset so tight it seemed like a second skin and boots that reached her thighs, Evelyn looked every inch the dark queen of Abyss. She carried with her a silver microphone, though her voice would have carried without it.
"Good evening, my darlings," she purred, sweeping her gaze over the crowd. "Tonight, we offer a choice. A temptation. And a warning."
The spotlight followed her as she moved to center stage. Behind her, attendants brought out a gleaming pair of clear heels - the infamous needle heels. Sleek, elegant, and cruel. The nodules were carefully recessed into the soles, only activating when rhythm and grace faltered.
"We are looking for a volunteer," Evelyn continued. "Someone brave. Someone agile. Someone who desires 50,000 Lei."
Nadia held her breath, trying to be invisible. Gasps rippled through the audience. That was no small sum.
Evelyn lifted a single black-gloved hand. "But… the forfeit, should you fall, is not trivial. Tonight, the loser shall ride the wooden pony. Until midnight."
The crowd stirred with a blend of fascination and discomfort. The wooden pony, or Spanish pony, was infamous in the BDSM community: a triangular edge made from hardwood, elevated to just the right height, upon which the loser would straddle. Her ankles would be tied to the sides, removing the possibility to support her weight by her legs, increasing the pressure on her most sensitive area. It was not a spectacle for the faint-hearted.
"Let me be clear," Evelyn added, as an image of the pony was shown on the high walls behind her via projection - a sleek, black-lacquered device with narrow steel foot-chains dangling. "There is full nudity involved. A always, no piercing of skin. But discomfort… exquisite discomfort… slowly building over time, that, we promise."
There was silence for a beat. Then a single hand rose from the crowd.
Nadia turned quickly. A woman - tall, slender, maybe late twenties - stepped forward. Her latex suit was simpler than most, older, slightly matte. She wore no elaborate mask, just simple eye makeup and a determined expression. She looked nervous but resolute.
Evelyn nodded once. "Ana! Come forward, my regular volunteer. Tell us, why do you want to dance again?"
"I look for another prize," the woman said into the microphone, her voice surprisingly steady.
"Ana," Evelyn repeated with a slow smile. "A regular guest, many know her. Always volunteering into challenges. But tell me, are you familiar with the needle heels?"
"I've danced in regular spiky heels, often, but not on needles." Ana said. "But… I need the money. Badly."
Over at the bar, Elise suggested to Alexandru, "She knows she’s going to lose. Look at her eyes. She just hopes she doesn’t."
Alexandru replied, "She’s brave. Or desperate. Maybe both."
The attendants helped Ana sit on a silver-cushioned bench and began to unbuckle her current footwear. Her bare feet looked soft and clean, though her soles still bore signs of an earlier encounter with spikes. The needle heels were slipped on, adjusted, then locked at the ankles. Evelyn smiled, happy to see Ana’s bare soles in their still languished state.
Ana stood. She wobbled once, slightly, and caught herself. She nodded. "I’m ready."
The music began - an industrial rhythm with a menacing undertone.
Ana danced. At first, she was surprisingly graceful. Her arms swayed, her hips rolled with the beat, and her steps were careful, cautious. The crowd held its breath.
Alexandru could barely look away. "She might make it."
"Too early to say," Elise murmured. "It gets harder. The music speeds up."
The beat shifted, turned more complex. Ana’s footwork stumbled just slightly. The needles engaged - tiny pinpricks that sent immediate signals through her nervous system. She flinched but didn’t fall. She kept going. A minute passed. Then two. The pace increased. Her breathing changed. Sweat began to bead at her temples, sliding down the collar of her suit. Her knees wobbled. Her footing became erratic.
The music dropped into a frenzied crescendo - and that’s when it happened.
Ana faltered. A misstep, a jolt of sharp pain, a choked gasp - and she collapsed onto her knees. Instantly, the needle heels locked and extended fully, the mechanism triggering. She was done.
The crowd erupted - not in laughter, but in awed, sympathetic applause. Evelyn stepped forward as Ana sat, hunched, breathing hard.
"A courageous attempt," she said. "But the deal is a deal."
Ana didn’t resist. Her face was pale, her jaw clenched, but she stood as attendants supported her. The needle heels were removed, and the camera system zoomed in as her soles were revealed - no blood, but definite deep, angry, red imprints.
"Ah, the sight of truly and deeply languished soles. How soothing that she can get off her feet now and ride instead. Escort her to her horse," Evelyn said with theatrical reverence.
The spotlight dimmed, and another beam focused on the corner of the stage where the wooden pony had been brought out. She was stripped out of her latex suit and stood before the pony completely nude. Her arms and wrists were tied swiftly into a reverse prayer position on her upper back. She would not enjoy the luxury of supporting her weight with her arms.
It looked sleek, clinical, and terrifying. Ana was guided up the side steps. Her feet were placed on the raised support brackets. Her ankles were chained. Then, with great ceremony, she was slowly lowered onto the triangular edge.
She grunted.
Then gasped as the foot support brackets were removed.
Her body trembled as the edge dug into her naked apex.
The audience watched in fascinated silence.
Alexandru nodded. "She knew she couldn’t win. But she still tried. That’s insane… and brave. Poor gal."
Elise shoot him a side look, "You’d better not be too sympathetic for another woman. Besides, you know, I would rather see a certain retail girl ride that contraption."
Elise observed the show, then whispered, "This is next level. Look at her arms." She had of course noticed her in the crowd, trying to be invisible when volunteers where looked for. She looked over directly at Claudia and grinned, her eyes piercing like ice filled daggers. She adorned a good reverse prayer. She made a praying gesture towards Claudia.
Claudia understood and lowered her eyes as Elise looked directly at her. That image combined with Ana’s struggle struck her like a slap, sending her mind spiraling back to that cursed quiz night - the night she gambled her dignity for the chance to rise, and failed. The promotion she had hoped for never came. Elise, of course, had walked away not only triumphant but elevated, smug in her victory and merciless in its execution. Claudia had remained a waitress.
The memory of Elise's reverse prayer and her "rubberization rules", as she had called it, returned like a ghost pressing into her skin. The sweat that had soaked the inside of the suit, the latex clinging to every inch of her like a second, suffocating skin. Her arms, locked in the cruel reverse prayer, ached in memory alone. Worse had been the final buckle that drew her legs tight, her heels wedged into the soft curve of her ass cheeks, held there with no mercy. The shoe on her face, on her nose had clung against her face, every breath an effort, her senses narrowed to heat, smell, and the quiet moans of submission. Elise had designed it to break her, and after a few hours, it had.
Now, watching Elise sip wine as Ana squirmed on the wooden pony, Claudia felt an old edge of resentment rise. She was probably enjoying a significant pay raise while she had to serve meals and had to endure Elise’s rubber forfeit. Her colleagues had commented on her stiffness after her ordeal, listening to invented excuses about a brutal workout at the gym. But she held it in check. She wasn’t ready for another challenge. Not yet. And definitively never again against Elise. She didn’t want to come under rubberization rules again.
For the next twenty minutes, Ana’s breathing remained shallow. She shifted occasionally, trying to relieve the pressure. Her body swayed with each tremor of her thighs. By now, a sheen of sweat covered her naked body, her breasts heaving under her exertion.
By the half-hour mark, she began to shake in earnest. The pain clearly ramping. She leaned backwards, to ease pressure. Seconds later, she leaned forward, to ease pressure again, at a different location. She leaned backwards. She was truly riding now, her desperate motion mimicking the motion of a rider on an actual horse.
"Behold, she is not just sitting, she is riding the Spanish Horse," Evelyn announced.
The final hour was the hardest. Her shoulders stiffened. Her face contorted. Now and then, a whimper escaped her lips. Her arms were strapped to her back, her body held safely by a harness. She couldn’t fall off, even if she tried. But it became clear she was desperately trying to lift herself off. She swayed. Back and forth. Riding into the pain.
Elise and Alexandru stood closer to the stage now, drawn in by the sheer rawness of the scene and the rocking woman on the horse.
Evelyn approached them. "She will remember this night."
As midnight struck, the attendants gently lifted Ana from the device. Her legs buckled, and she was carried offstage.
Elise looked over at Alexandru, "I don’t know if I’ll ever dare something like that. The needle frame may be worse, but the pony is aimed exclusively at the most delicate parts."
"But I’m not going to be challenged to a stupid duel again. Only certain people end up there, for our amusement," she murmured.
Alexandru smiled grimly. "You say that now. But one night… you might be up there again. Just like Ana."
Elise laughed, "I risked my pussy once for you. That’s enough. Don’t get too attached to the idea."