I slammed the drawer.  I turned, frightened.  My GQ men advanced, 
climbing the dais steps.  The females were gathered close.  
         ŇIt is not all for you, dear, at least I hope it isnŐt,Ó Laurie reassured 
me, then turned and winked at the hostess with a laugh.
         Scared, but still willing, I turned to face the trestle.  I pressed my 
upper thighs to the bar.  I bent forward, found a lower bar beneath, gripped 
it momentarily, feeling the feel of my openness in back.  Then I popped 
erect again, lest I be restrained that way.  I turned.  I pushed my bottom up 
against the comforting leather.
         ŇI donŐt think I want to go through with this anymore,Ó I breathed.  
My eyes were frightened rabbitŐs eyes.  With my every pulsebeat my 
resolution not to continue grew.
         ŇIt is too late, darling,Ó the hostess said.  She and two men came up 
to me, spun me about again.  I squawked as they pressed me down.  ŇIt is 
time, dear, you cannot delay it any longer,Ó Laurie said somewhere behind 
me.  Roughly she parted my thighs.  I felt loops of leather attach 
themselves to my ankles.  
         Someone missed his cue, for I wriggled and found myself suddenly 
upright again.  My ankles were bound, my legs three feet apart or more, but 
the rest of me had got free of them.  The two men looked startled, 
recovered, laughed at their mistake.  Each had deferred to the other in 
tying down my wrists, both had missed a beat and lost his hold on me.  
Perhaps each was hoping the other would tie me while he prepared to be 
the first to get up my ass.  Let the other tie her, I will fuck her!  Yes, that 
was it.  The hostess had long since let go, thinking to leave the matter to 
the men.
         I stood there a moment, unmolested.  They realized I couldnŐt go 
anywhere.  My tits heavy on my chest, my legs apart beneath my rolling, 
flexing bottom cheeks, I gazed behind myself.  All was being made ready.  
A line of GQ men stood with cocks displayed.  Laurie was passing in front 
of them, greasing and oiling each manŐs shaft for the job ahead.  A female 
rolled out a rack of punishment implements from some hidden closet.  
Whips, crops, paddles, unimaginable in their variety and ingenuity.  Some 
had holes, others not, still others had awful-looking brass studs on them.  
My white bottom gleamed, the target of whichever or however many of 
those horrid things they wished to spank me with.
         ŇOver, darling,Ó the hostess said to me.  She put her hand to the back 
of my head.  I felt her bend me again, felt my upward-yielding bottom 
cheeks disclose their inner secrets, felt my pouch displayed in its soft 
furrowness to all who stood behind me.
         Gourd-like my tits hung again.  She pulled my wrists down, bound 
them tightly with leather and affixed them with loops of leather to the 
bar below.
         I coughed a little cough.  I felt cool air upon my hiney.  I wanted to 
cry but didnŐt have the willpower to do it.  Soon they would help me in that 
department, I feared.

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