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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