Target Practice

You are taken to the back room and a couple of people who see you leave start to smile with anticipation. You are clearly about to be involved in something quite entertaining.

You have a fairly good idea as to what it is the moment you enter. Perhaps you should not be surprised how closely the Rulebook caught onto your thoughts, but then your mind is still busy catching up with the idea the Rulebook is real in the first place. The structure you see is a movable platform with wheels with stocks erected on them; the edge you will be facing (for you have no doubt whom the stocks are for) is the only one with a wall covered with a foam layer. Towards the top, where it would not be obscured by your body, there is a stylised image of a target and arrows. Curving about and below it are two lines in a large font:

Hit that ASS

FREE Coffee on US!

Your role while you will be secured is made quite clear.

"If you could strip and take the place in the frame, please, Jenna", says the manager from behind you. As if in a dream you begin to strip. Everything is made to sound so normal and routine that disobeying does not feel like a viable option; or perhaps the magic of the Rulebook is affecting you already. This is meant to be normal, after all. Still, although you lose your jumper and shoes comfortably enough, your face feels hotter and your heartbeat faster with each subsequent article of clothing. When you take off your blouse to expose your bra-less chest your teeth are clattering; when you are peeling your panties off, you feel as every movement of yours has to push through stone.

Fully naked now, with your non-nonsense businesswoman garb at the bottom of the platform, you step carefully into the holes made for your legs and bend forward where your neck and wrists can be secured. You are very careful not to look back, knowing you will not be able to meet the eye of even a casual acquaintance. Your heart jumps when the door opens and it takes all your willpower not to jump out of the contraption, grab your clothes and make a run for it.

"Can you store her clothes and bag for now, Mia?", asks the manager. You know the waitress he is addressing, a girl several years your junior with whom you chatted on occasion. You cannot believe she is seeing you like this. "I actually think we could leave it there?", she suggests. "So they'd be able to see she is a customer helping out, not some hired professional." The manager agrees happily enough and they move to either side of you to secure the binds. You shut your eyes tightly as the upper half of the neck brace descends, cutting off your chances of escaping physically and tearing the Rulebook apart before you do more damage.

You keep your eyes tightly shut as they move around you. You almost jump out of your skin when something touches your stuck-out bottom; a moment later you realise a circle is being drawn on your cheek, its full size. And the the other. And then it is over. "All ready then", the manager says. "Now, Jenna, we will wheel you out, you'll stay about 5 yards from the till where they'll have the airgun." You feel your jaw drop again in surprise, now mixed with a good deal of fear, but he hastens to reassure you. "It is very weak, and the darts have the smallest of needles at the tip, just enough to stick into your bum, but absolutely harmless if they hit elsewhere. Just stay still and you'll be fine, it only hurt a little. We'll disinfect any hit spots after."

You are still trying to come up with a reply to that as you are being wheeled out back into the main area of the cafe, fully naked and securely bound.