I was working on the computer when my S.O. came home unexpectedly. Normally this wouldn’t be a thing – but I was working as Cynthia, my female alter-ego: Blonde wig, white blouse full of fake tits, black pencil skirt, and patent heels.
“Woo Hoo!” she said, seeing me. Then: “What’s the meaning of this?”
“Well, I er, was….”
“None of your lies! Stand up! Put your hands up!” I did as I was ordered. “Trying to hack into our computer and sabotage it, no doubt! Fetch me something to tie you up with!” This was good news. I went off and got some of our bondage equipment.
“Keep those hands up!” she said after I handed her the straps. After frisking me – a matter of groping my breasts and feeling up under my skirt – she pulled my arms down and secured my hands behind my back. Then she gagged me with a wide leather strap.
“Now move!” she said. Sitting me down on the floor in the living room, she bound my legs at knee and ankles.
“You’re going to sit right there, thinking about your crimes, while I find out how much damage you did!” she said. Then she went back to the computer, leaving me bound and gagged.
I squirmed around a little, feeling the tightness of the leather binding me, enjoying the sensation of being a sexy woman bound and helpless. In the other room, I could hear her clicking away on the keyboard.
I remained tied for about half an hour. Then my S.O. returned.
“I didn’t find anything,” she said, “But you’re still a spy and a saboteur. So you get the traditional punishment for that. A firing squad!” She untied my legs and hauled me to my feet, then marched me through the house. She led me to the one wall of the den that was brick, and stood me in front of it. There, she looped a strap around my neck, over my shoulders and behind my back, tightening it so that my shoulders were drawn back and my chest stuck out. She also re-tied my ankles. Finally she took off my glasses so that she could blindfold me.
I stood there, trembling. I knew what was in our play arsenal, and it wasn’t gentle. She said, “All right, spy, this is it. We’ll skip the ‘Ready – Aim’ bit. FIRE!” There was a Pop—Pop--pop! Bullets smacked into my torso – soft bullets, but they stung! I gasped, teetered on my lashed-together high heels, then toppled gracefully to the floor. I twitched a couple of times against the straps, then lay still.
My S.O. kicked me a couple of times, apparently to make sure I was ‘dead’. Then she unbuckled my wristcuffs and left me lying there. After a suitable interval. I slowly undid the rest of my bonds, and made my way back to the bedroom where I changed out of my Cynthia getup.
