It was a dangerous situation to be in...
She had me tied to a chair. My hands were bound by my sides with a rope wrapped right around me, my ankles strapped tightly to the legs of the chair. Then she took off my blindfold. My eyes were dazzled in the bright light, before they adjusted to it.
She held a handgun loosely in one hand, a lollipop in the other. I surveyed the scene. Standing before me was my ex-wife. Dressed as a schoolgirl. Holding a gun. Things couldn't get much worse...
I wondered what she had in mind. She had somehow copied exactly the uniform of the girls school where I taught. White see-through blouse. Red tartan plaid skirt. Hell, she'd even put her hair in pigtails. Even though my students were eighteen years old and 'above', I swore that some of them did that just to look even younger.
It had all become part of the routine.... I never even thought about it, these little things that made my mundane desk job just a little more bearable. The presents the girls bought for me. The daily smell of sweet perfume, the little flashes of their panties - something a few of them did at every available opportunity.
Some of my students were more bookish, others were budding in other ways. I tried my best to treat them all equally and I even went the extra mile to make sure they were happy. I organised field trips and gave them less homework than they needed. In return, my girls loved me for it.
I allowed them to dress more freely, and noticed over time that some of the skirts were getting shorter, to the point were they were merely wide belts that barely covered their peachy little asses. My ex-wife had always made comments about how I was too relaxed with them, urging me to become stricter at work. It had been another bone of contention that had broken us up. As I surveyed her now, she had a nasty gleam in her eyes...
"Okay Michelle, what exactly do you want?" I asked her. There was no response. She paced up and down a little, enjoying my predicament.
"Is it more alimony that you're after?" She looked at me with disgust.
Silent moments passed by, then out of the blue - a slap came searing across my face. "Ouch! What the f**k was that for?" I complained.
"Shut up! Just shut the f**k up!" she screamed into my face.
"I do the talking! I ask the questions! ... Remember asshole ... it's me that's got the gun!" she said menacingly.
With that, she pointed the barrel straight at me, her hands shaking with either anger or fear, or a mixture of both. Maybe it was the excitement of the power she now had over me, that had her so intoxicated.
"Get a hard on!" she demanded.
"What? Are you out of your mind?" Another slap quickly followed.
"Do as I say!" she shouted. She looked down at my groin for a response.
There was none.
"You mean you don't find this exciting?" she asked, rolling the lollipop around her mouth. After a while, she put it back into her blouse pocket. Then she rested one of her shiny, black, knee-length boots on the chair, the spiky heel dangerously close to my groin. Her short plaid skirt rode up as she did so, exposing a pair of cotton panties.
