Kriss heard the men before she saw them. She tried to walk faster as they called her, limping badly, swinging the heavy yoke left and right to keep her balance. The bells began to ring noisily, constantly. She even tried to run but then the yoke began to bounce and pound on her shoulders in a very painful way and she did not make more than a few steps.<br/><br/>Soon the men had caught up with her. They grabbed the yoke, stopping her. Kriss tried to kick them but they wisely remained on her sides, at the ends of the yoke, where she could not reach them easily. Pushing down on the yoke, it was easy for them to force her on her knees, rendering her totally harmless.<br/><br/>She tried to complain and to threaten but to no avail. One of them brought that old, rusty bicycle. He pulled her pants and panties off her legs and threw them in a nearby dumpster. Then they lifted her by her yoke and been impaled her on the pipe that used to support the bike seat. As the thick, rusty pipe was shoved up her rectum, she moaned in pain. The sperm it had been filled with did little to lubricate her. At last, they released their hold on her yoke and she realised she had to stand on the ball of her feet to prevent the pipe from going deeper. She was clenching her strong buttocks hard in an attempt to stabilise herself.<br/><br/>At last, they let her go, laughing at her predicament.<br/><br/>Kriss immediately realised how bad her situation had turned. She tried to "sit" on the bike, which would have allowed her use the bike to increase her speed, but she was painfully shown that it was hopeless. Even putting just a bit of her weight on her butt caused the pipe to enter deeper into her, causing tremendous pain. This meant that, basically, she had to walk on the ball of her feet while having to push/drag the bike forward.<br/><br/>After a few yards, the bike had already begun to turn and she had to use her knees to aim it again in the correct direction, an operation she had to repeat every few steps. It did not take long for her calves to begin to burn from cramps and tremble. Again, she tried to lower her butt to rest her heels on the ground, but as the seat pipe ground into her rectum, she could not stop a yelp and shot back up on the balls of her feet.<br/><br/>Kriss realised she would never be able to reach the fort like that. Her legs would tire very soon and she could not see how to get rid of the bike as she was linked to it by her nose. Awkwardly, painstakingly, she shuffled forward, her bells ringing madly as her yoke was swaying furiously in her attempts to keep her balance.<br/><br/>Remaining on her toes proved increasingly harder. Her heels slowly lowered, pushing more of the pipe into her rectum, until at last it had gone deep enough to allow her to stand flat-footed. Still her progress remained very slow and there was no way she could rest her tiring legs, which she had to keep stretched to prevent further impalement.<br/><br/>She managed to walk like that for another block, bringing her to the intersection with the 47th street. She was manoeuvring her bike among the burnt carcasses of collided cars when her bare foot walked on something sharp. She yelped and instinctively pulled her leg up. The sudden move made her tilt to the right. She desperately tried to recover her equilibrium but the yoke was already past her centre of gravity and, like in slow motion, she fell on her side and crashed on the cold macadam.<br/><br/>She cursed and squirmed frantically. Her body was awkwardly twisted as the yoke was forcing her shoulders to rest on the floor while the bike was preventing her hips to do the same. Her right leg was trapped under the bike and mostly unable to move. Of course, she was still impaled on the bike and only her left leg, with her wounded foot, had any bit of freedom. The weight of the yoke was preventing her from lifting her torso off the floor.