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The Beauty Of Wooden Pony

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Jon Smithie

Governor
It is Nikki Flynn and is most likely from an RGE film,although I can`t remember which one. Nikki must have been a true masochist given some of the punishments she took on film.
It's from an RGE film called Stalin 2: https://www.rge-films.com/Movies/55-stalin-2/

Here's some more free screencaps of Nikki Flynn from the production, some of which I'm sure have been posted here before:

stalin2-nikkiflynn4.jpgstalin2-nikkiflynn3.jpgstalin2-nikkiflynn2.jpgstalin2-nikiflynn1.jpg
 

Jon Smithie

Governor
And some more victims of the Stalin era purges from the RGE production Stalin 2:

stalin2-alexandrawolf1.jpgstalin2-alex2.jpgstalin2-alex5.jpg Alexandra Wolf

stalin2-jana2.jpgstalin2-jana3.jpg Jana Mysickova

stalin2-jananiki1.jpgstalin2-alex4.jpgstalin2-janamysickova1.jpg And some shots of the three models in rehearsal.

stalin2-alex3.jpg And finally, after a vigorous interrogation, in which Alexandra steadfastly maintains her innocence and her dedication to Communist ideals, her torturer tells her this story:

Two rabbits on a road during the Stalinist purge.
First rabbit: “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
Second rabbit: “Haven’t you heard? There’s a rumour going round that all camels are to be castrated.”
First rabbit: “But you’re not a camel.”
Second rabbit: “After they catch you and castrate you, try proving you’re not a camel.”
 

Ennie10

Guard
I have ridden the wooden pony, but in a rather "vanilla" situation. Several years ago, I visited a historic site in Connecticut where Revolutionary War re-enactors were performing. I was in period dress--a muslin shift with sleeves rolled up and knee breeches but with no stockings, just bare legs, and sandals, so when they asked for a volunteer to ride the wooden pony, I stepped up.

After mounting the pony, my hands were cuffed behind my back. Then they attached weights to my ankles that weighed abut a pound.

This was hardly the real thing. The back of the pony was rounded, so it was actually comfortable to sit there--at least at first. Although I grew increasingly uncomfortable as I sat there and sweated in the hot, humid weather, my biggest discomfort was teh embarrassment of being put on public display, in restraint.

I was released after about a half-hour, after which I headed north to Vermont. A couple days later, I found myself again in trouble--locked in the jail and doing time in the stocks and pillory at the Shelburne Museum.
 

fat slave girl

Regina Servorum
I have ridden the wooden pony, but in a rather "vanilla" situation. Several years ago, I visited a historic site in Connecticut where Revolutionary War re-enactors were performing. I was in period dress--a muslin shift with sleeves rolled up and knee breeches but with no stockings, just bare legs, and sandals, so when they asked for a volunteer to ride the wooden pony, I stepped up.

After mounting the pony, my hands were cuffed behind my back. Then they attached weights to my ankles that weighed abut a pound.

This was hardly the real thing. The back of the pony was rounded, so it was actually comfortable to sit there--at least at first. Although I grew increasingly uncomfortable as I sat there and sweated in the hot, humid weather, my biggest discomfort was teh embarrassment of being put on public display, in restraint.

I was released after about a half-hour, after which I headed north to Vermont. A couple days later, I found myself again in trouble--locked in the jail and doing time in the stocks and pillory at the Shelburne Museum.
Are there any photos?
 

Gibbs505

SERVORUM DOMITOR
I have ridden the wooden pony, but in a rather "vanilla" situation. Several years ago, I visited a historic site in Connecticut where Revolutionary War re-enactors were performing. I was in period dress--a muslin shift with sleeves rolled up and knee breeches but with no stockings, just bare legs, and sandals, so when they asked for a volunteer to ride the wooden pony, I stepped up.

After mounting the pony, my hands were cuffed behind my back. Then they attached weights to my ankles that weighed abut a pound.

This was hardly the real thing. The back of the pony was rounded, so it was actually comfortable to sit there--at least at first. Although I grew increasingly uncomfortable as I sat there and sweated in the hot, humid weather, my biggest discomfort was teh embarrassment of being put on public display, in restraint.

I was released after about a half-hour, after which I headed north to Vermont. A couple days later, I found myself again in trouble--locked in the jail and doing time in the stocks and pillory at the Shelburne Museum.
Next stop, naked at the whipping post!
 

Ennie10

Guard
Details, please!
I have been whipped in public on numerous occasions at Renaissance festivals and the Folsom Street Fair in San Francisco.

My first public whipping was at Folsom, where dressed like an Elizabethan peasant, in knee breeches and bare feet, I climbed onto a platform, stripped to the waist and then had my hands cuffed to the post. After warming me up with a series of light strokes, he let me have it, and I yelled. After abut twenty strokes, he told me to look behind me. The street was jammed with onlookers, many with video cameras, so my performance may be online somewhere.

Since then, I have undergone several whippings at Folsom. Once I had to crouch in a pillory and the girl wielding the flogger later boasted online as to how she had set me to dancing. I was once attached to a device that held my neck in an iron collar, my wrists and ankles in iron shackles and my body strapped to a board—and then I was severely whipped on my bare back. And I was whipped at an English-style whipping post a square beam with the shackles hanging at the side. The woman doing the whipping held the flogger under my neck as she posed, She was smiling while her half-naked prisoner’s face reflected fear and anxiety. Then I was told to lean against the post to avoid injury while she dealt me 30 stripes.

I’ve also been whipped at Renaissance festivals although these are “vanilla” events where it is hard to find a proper whipping. However, at a couple such events, I ran into people who were into “the scene.” In both cases, I found myself locked in the pillory—the real thing, that actually locked and forced me to stretch uncomfortably—and then whipped. At each flogging, I only got about five lashes, but they did hurt.
 
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