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She was stretched tight across a training horse that appeared to be the same devise I had become well acquainted with from both sides of the power exchange. It was a solid contraption made of hardened cherry and resembled a large version of a sawhorse. The crossbeam was fitted with a soft leather cover and was well padded --- a good thing since many hours of discipline where often administered on “Old War.” Her big brother had done an excellent job of affixing her to it. Her ankles where shackled with one-inch clips to the legs--high enough so that only the tips of her toes actually touched the cement floor. Large leather-covered cushions inserted between her knees and Old War’s legs effectively opened her ass and pussy obscenely wide. The cushions were buckled in place and matched the crossbeam cover. A wide leather belt buckled on her back just above her ass kept her lower torso in place. Nothing held her upper torso in place. However, her wrists were shackled tightly to the very. "Suddenly I felt terrible with my stomach all tied up in knots. I knewthat if a man did something terrible to me that I wouldn't want to call aman for help unless it was the police or a fireman. I felt stupid for notthinking about how my voice might scare women. Suddenly I felt inadequateand just wanted to run away and cry.I had to do say something, so I blurted out, "Ms. Jennifer, er ma'am, Iam SO SORRY that I am alienating your clients! That's the LAST thing Iwant to do. Please help me think of a way I can still work here and be apart of this team. I really DO want to help you help these poor women!"After saying this I grabbed some tissues and tried not to shakeuncontrollably.Ms. Jennifer must have seen how hurt I was, because suddenly she waslooking at me with pity. What she said surprised me. "Well John I can seehow upset you are about all of this. I can also see that your behavioris, um, well, not very manly. Just look at you, crying like a girl oversome hung up phone calls. You.
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