After about three quarters of an hour we came to a clearing in the forest. The Ladies told me to take off my clothes, but allowed me to keep my boxers on. They tied me to a tree, because that’s what trees are for. I had to suppress a giggle, because they put on gloves. Gloves? It was sweltering hot outside! But I kept my cool and looked at them like it was the most natural thing in the world. They told me to wait there (very funny) and disappeared among the trees. Ten minutes later they returned with a bunch of stinging nettles, which made my not-a-worry-in-the-world smile melt like a glacier.
Ladies, please, I panicked, these things sting like crazy!
(Which shows there’s nothing going on between my ears.)
They laughed and whacked me across the face. And then the battle of the nettle began. They whipped the bloody things across my arms, my chest and legs. Within seconds my skin started itching and burning. I screamed, but they threatened to stuff nettles in my mouth, so I snapped shut. They pulled my boxers down, dropped one handful- two hands full- three hands full of nettles in the crotch and pulled it up again. Jesus Christ! Like sticking your scrotum in fresh lava! One of the Ladies firmly rubbed Her hand over my Vesuvius (well … ) and I wriggled in misery. They untied me and forced me to run through a huge field of nettles.
Chop, chop, we haven’t got all day! That’s it! And again! Faster, faster!
God, how I longed for the winter!
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