The shoelaces are quite flimsy. When Mr. B stops time, I pass him some heavy duty tape instead.
First, he takes the last defences of Marci's undeserved modesty, her halter top and her skirt, and stuffs them in the urinals on either side of her. He then ties her wrists with her shoelaces and tapes her eyes shut.
Together we move her to the middle of the four urinals. Mr. B then tapes her calves to her thighs so she's in a permanent kneeling position, and tapes her arms to the walls so she can't move. To be safe, he also puts in a line of tape across her torso just under her pert, athletic breasts so she really can't break free.
Marci's quite a sight, affixed as she is in-between the urinals. Two of them are conveniently out of service, while she very much is.
I write "Please use me" across her athletic tummy.
We leave a pair of scissors by her in case anyone wants to move her somewhere else for us. It sounds like a crowd is coming. Mr. B and I move out of the way as the door opens. |