Tammy knew that her fingers would soon be rendered immobile by the steel restraints Bernard Cornfield was administering at that moment.

Seconds after the man clamped the first cuff in place her circled all the way around the table – moving with amazing brace and coordination for a man his size.

He moved like a cat.

He was a wild jungle beast.

He moved about the torture table as if he were encircling his helpless prey. His cock was thoroughly engorged with the hot blood of his masculine arousal, making a huge bulge in the crotch of his tight trousers.

He repeated the process with the other arm and soon Tammy could not feel anything more in her right hand then she could in her left. She could not wiggle the fingers on either hand any longer. He then moved to the foot of the wooden torture table.

Bernard Cornfield grabbed both of the little girl's trim ankles at the same time, one in either hand.

He imagined himself making a wish over a wishbone – and then pulled her legs apart with a single outward sweep of both of his strong arms.

He opened her up.

Tammy could feel her thighs parting to a perfect ninety-degree angle – and then further. He separated her legs to an obtuse angle. Her feet were pointing toward the corners of the wooden slab at the foot, where the other two steel cuffs were waiting. The balls and sole of her feet – like Tammy's calloused palms – were much lighter than the rest of her body. Friction wore the color right off, Bernard figured.

The little girl could feel the lips of her teenaged pussy and the cheeks of her baby soft ass parting along with her shapely legs. He clamped the cuffs on her ankles – again drawing blood on spots.

Her toes became numb.

She was bound stringently.

Both her elbows and her knees were locked in the straight position. She had been chained to the torture table so that she could not move a muscle.