Linda frog-marches me into the middle of that vast space, where I’m surrounded and herded toward my own waiting bed of torment. Impatient hands send buttons flying as my clothes are ripped off. Big, always antagonistic Linda shoves me down naked on my back across the middle of that narrow mattress.
More hands zealous for the promised justice hold me down while my legs are spread and lifted to the level of my head. Folding me up double and split like an acrobat, the ladies use rubber-coated electrical wires to tie my right ankle to the post at the head of the bed and my left to that at the foot. Then my arms are also spread and pulled down over the crooks of my knees before being similarly bound to the opposing two bedposts.
It’s certainly a more inventive version of being spread-eagled,
