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Description

I arrive at the office exactly on time, and take a seat at my secretarial desk in the front lobby of the office. I'm dressed in heels, form-fitting slacks with a belt, a fashionable scarf around my neck, and a crop top with a sweater over it, with my hair tied up in a professional bun. When I go out to dinner that night I'll remove my sweater to expose my crop top, but for the moment I maintain an air of professionalism by keeping my sweater buttoned.

The hours slowly tick by as I complete my various tasks; filing papers for different businessmen, filling out online reports and printing out schedules, and researching upcoming appointments to insert into the weekly calendars. As I work, different businessmen and visitors occasionally pass through the lobby, and I pay them little mind unless one speaks to me directly.

I'm in the middle of typing up a new report when I hear the door to the lobby open. Unconcerned, I continue working and focusing on the computer in front of me. I'm taken by surprise when a large hand clamps down on my mouth, and a strong arm wraps around my chest, pinning me to my office chair. I make a muffled shout and begin to struggle, but I'm able to prevent what happens next. My scarf is tugged off of my neck and tied through my mouth in a makeshift gag. Then I'm pulled out of my chair and pushed face-first into the brick wall behind my desk.

I hear the zipping sound of a belt being undone, and a moment later the belt is used to bind my hands behind my back. Then I'm whirled around again. With my back pressed against the wall, I can finally see the tall, broad figure in front of me. He's could be a businessman, dressed in smart loafers, black trousers and a jacket with a crisp white button-up underneath, but there are gloves on his hands and a dark ski mask covers his face.

"Don't make a sound," he warns, crowding me back against the wall. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will." He glances nervously at the doors to the offices, then behind him at my desk, before looking back at me. "Where do you keep your important files? You don't need to speak, just show me where they are."

I shake my head, and look at the doors to the offices as well, hoping for someone to come out and save me. The man notices my glance and makes a noise of frustration, pushing me roughly against the wall. "Look," he says, making my eyes widen when he reaches back to pull a small gun from his waistband. "I don't have much time, and I won't ask you twice." He reaches for my waist and I start to struggle, but I can't stop him from grabbing hold of my sweater. He pops the bottom button of my sweater open, then the next one, and the one after, until only the top button remains closed and my bare stomach peeks out.

"What a convenient target," he sneers, gesturing to my belly. He presses the gun to my belly button and clicks the safety off. I shake my head frantically and try to suck my stomach in, to no avail. I hold my breath nervously as I feel the cold barrel of the gun pushing into my navel. "Tell me. Where. The documents are. If I don't get what I want, I'll send a bullet straight into your belly button," he threatens, with his finger on the trigger.

requested a story to go with one of my gun belly peril photos!

Description

I arrive at the office exactly on time, and take a seat at my secretarial desk in the front lobby of the office. I'm dressed in heels, form-fitting slacks with a belt, a fashionable scarf around my neck, and a crop top with a sweater over it, with my hair tied up in a professional bun. When I go out to dinner that night I'll remove my sweater to expose my crop top, but for the moment I maintain an air of professionalism by keeping my sweater buttoned.

The hours slowly tick by as I complete my various tasks; filing papers for different businessmen, filling out online reports and printing out schedules, and researching upcoming appointments to insert into the weekly calendars. As I work, different businessmen and visitors occasionally pass through the lobby, and I pay them little mind unless one speaks to me directly.

I'm in the middle of typing up a new report when I hear the door to the lobby open. Unconcerned, I continue working and focusing on the computer in front of me. I'm taken by surprise when a large hand clamps down on my mouth, and a strong arm wraps around my chest, pinning me to my office chair. I make a muffled shout and begin to struggle, but I'm able to prevent what happens next. My scarf is tugged off of my neck and tied through my mouth in a makeshift gag. Then I'm pulled out of my chair and pushed face-first into the brick wall behind my desk.

I hear the zipping sound of a belt being undone, and a moment later the belt is used to bind my hands behind my back. Then I'm whirled around again. With my back pressed against the wall, I can finally see the tall, broad figure in front of me. He's could be a businessman, dressed in smart loafers, black trousers and a jacket with a crisp white button-up underneath, but there are gloves on his hands and a dark ski mask covers his face.

"Don't make a sound," he warns, crowding me back against the wall. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will." He glances nervously at the doors to the offices, then behind him at my desk, before looking back at me. "Where do you keep your important files? You don't need to speak, just show me where they are."

I shake my head, and look at the doors to the offices as well, hoping for someone to come out and save me. The man notices my glance and makes a noise of frustration, pushing me roughly against the wall. "Look," he says, making my eyes widen when he reaches back to pull a small gun from his waistband. "I don't have much time, and I won't ask you twice." He reaches for my waist and I start to struggle, but I can't stop him from grabbing hold of my sweater. He pops the bottom button of my sweater open, then the next one, and the one after, until only the top button remains closed and my bare stomach peeks out.

"What a convenient target," he sneers, gesturing to my belly. He presses the gun to my belly button and clicks the safety off. I shake my head frantically and try to suck my stomach in, to no avail. I hold my breath nervously as I feel the cold barrel of the gun pushing into my navel. "Tell me. Where. The documents are. If I don't get what I want, I'll send a bullet straight into your belly button," he threatens, with his finger on the trigger.

requested a story to go with one of my gun belly peril photos!