Her other ankle was bound, and then the terror really started. Her legs were forced wide open as the chain went around another table leg on her other side. Gillian wasn't used to doing the splits, and her tendons were soon screaming in pain, as her legs were forced open as wide as they would go. But it was the humiliation that got her more than the pain, the horror of being forced and bound over the table. She wriggled as hard as she could, but Dean had a strong hold on her arm and anyway, the struggle with the leg irons had already worn through her tights, and the thick steel was rubbing her skin painfully.

Suddenly, she jerked even harder, for Alda had gotten a grip on her left hand.

"No, you can't, you can't!" she begged.

Alda pulled Gillian's arm out, and clipped another chain and manacle around her wrist. As Gillian screamed and begged, Alda pulled the chain around a table leg on the other side of the table, and stretched the weeping, sobbing Gillian out until her hand nearly reached right across the polished surface. After that, it was an easy task for Dean to twist her right arm back, give it to Alda, and have Gillian's wrist clipped and pulled out until she was painfully stretched across the table; her muscles pulled to the limit, her whole body aching. Her hips were pressed into the table edge, her ass stuck out, but her long skirt still covered it and went down her legs.

"Please, what are you going to do?" she wept, twisting around until she gasped and froze at what she saw.

Alda was taking her clothes off, opening the buttons of her blouse while she ran her free hand down the front of Dean's pants. And there was an enormous bulge when she pulled her blouse out of her waistband, showing the little lacy cups of her bra.

"Please, Dean, can I have one of those boys? Come on, be fair; you're getting her."

She opened the belt of her skirt and unzipped it, sliding it down her legs, as she played with his cock through his pants.