Mike turned on the light.

"My… my God! What is this," she stammered, looking around her. She felt her hands and feet turn icy while more perspiration dotted her forehead. It was something straight out of a medieval story, just as Mike had said. The Middle Ages lived on here, she thought as her eyes swept around the walls, taking in the instruments of torture hanging from them. There were frightening-looking whips, riding crops, masks, gags, leather thongs, what appeared to be bridles, and other things that terrified Carla. And there in the middle of the room was a large wooden keg with a small brass faucet embedded in it. Mike put the keys back on his belt, closing the door behind him.

"You don't need that any more," he said, running his fingers over her dress, then tearing it from her body.

"Remember me talking about medieval history? They used things like this in those days, and in this country for a long time," he said, pointing to what at first was an unfamiliar object to Carla. It was a small wooden wall of about four feet in height, two large holes opposite one another, bored into the wood with two smaller ones about two feet above those. Hinges had been attached to one side of the bored-out wooden device, apparently making it possible to lift the areas around the holes together or separately. A pillory! Of course! She had seen pictures of those things in picture books when she was a little girl going to school. The pilgrims used them in Massachusetts for thieves and whores. Was he going to push her into, it?

"I think you've guessed what I'm going to do with you, Carla. Come on, follow me," Mike said, taking her by the right arm and pulling her forward.

"N-n-n-noooo!"