Master has invited two or three of his mates round for a few beers. This may sound perfectly normal, but the events that take place on this night are far from normal. On their arrival at Master's house, his mates are immediately taken with a new addition to the living room. A small coffee table, black and shiny, set up in the middle of the room. On this table sits a half full beer bottle and a large, heavy ashtray. The men all stare in amazement, voicing their compliments in tones suggesting sheer delight. What is so interesting about Master's coffee table? Well, it is basically a human table. A young woman, to be precise, every inch of her hidden beneath a shiny black latex catsuit and hood. She is on all fours, her back perfectly straight, her head bowed. A thick penis gag saturated with her own juices keeps her silent. Ropes are tied between her wrists and her knees, anchoring her firmly in place. The human table has been in this position for two long, uncomfortable hours. Her hands and knees are feeling numb, and her neck is sore from being held down. But she dare not move even an inch, because if she does, she will make Master very angry, just as she will if her contents should slide off her back and fall to the floor. Master fetches beers for his mates and they settle down to drink and talk. Now more beer bottles are placed on the table, which remains perfectly still. The girl trapped within the skintight latex prison listens to the stories exchanged by the men, noticing how they are gradually moving from sober, to tipsy, to full on drunk as time goes on. Eventually the men fall silent. Then Master says 'Let's play a game.' His mates don't seem bothered either way, but when he leaves the room, only to return a moment later, their interest is rekindled. 'What the fuck is that? A TV aerial?' one asks amid fits of laughter. 'No,' Master says. 'We can't go to the fair, because it's shut for the winter, so I've brought the fair to us.' The human table wonders what the hell Master is going on about. He is very drunk and making no sense whatsoever. But it soon becomes very clear what is going on. The ashtray and beer bottles are taken away, and the girl gives a silent sigh of relief. But she stiffens with fear and anticipation when a zip is opened at the back of her suit, baring her lovely round arse cheeks and her smooth shaven pussy, dripping wet, the smell mingling with that of beer and cigarettes. It is all she can do not to moan as Master's hand, cold after handling so many chilled bottles, is laid gently on her arse. She wonders if she will be spanked, but this is not his intention. This time she does give a moan, as he slides a single finger into her pussy and then uses the juice to lubricate her tight little arsehole, which he penetrates with ease. She relaxes as the finger is withdrawn, and allows him to insert something long, hard and thick inside her. The zip of her suit is then done up again, only about an inch left open. Now there is more hysterical laughter as Master explains himself. 'We are going to play ring toss. There are three rings and you have to get them all onto the pole. We'll take it in turns, and the first one to get all three rings on first time wins Â£50 and a chance to do my lovely little slavegirl up the arse.' The girl goes cold at these words, but her face is flushed with shame and, she hates to admit to herself, arousal. She is glad of the hood obscuring her face to spare her blushes from the men. They are all heavily built; no doubt they will have cocks to match. She is afraid at the thought of taking any one of those monstrosities up such a tiny little hole, and yet the thought makes her juices trickle even more.