It was a very warm day for late December, so the claypit was uncovered, the suspension tripod was moved over it, and Doug was suspended by his genitals, face down over the clay, with his wrists locked behind him. His only way of taking strain off of his cock and balls is to push himself up with his face and legs, which makes matters worse and makes it difficult to breath. It's easier to push things into the clay, than it is to pull them out, and the only thing he has to pull against is the rope that is painfully suspending him by his tender parts.