A sexy cop uniform

Perhaps it wasn’t a surprise that this strange passenger in her gravitated to that. A dress with a long V-neckline that almost showed off her pussy, handcuffs hanging off a catch on the front, and stockings underneath.

She could see herself in the mirror, once she put it on. It was a parody of a policewoman, one that made her cringe knowing that her girlfriend, Nicole, was a cop.

Even just looking at herself in it made her flush scarlet. To be seen by others in it-

To be seen by others taking it off. Oh god, this was a nightmare. There was no chance to wear a bra with the neckline showing off her cleavage, but the panties she had on almost made it worse. There was next to nothing to them.

She finished the outfit off with a tiny hat, grinning sunnily at the mirror once it was on. Then it was time to go out to the stage.

She tried to resist, tried to at least drag her footsteps; it didn’t work. Instead she went to the DJ, suggested a suitably loud and pounding song, and went up to the stage.

She was a decent dancer, she knew that; she’d used to be a cheerleader. She could move to rhythm, and she had the stamina to keep going.

The pole was a new addition though, she’d admit. She grabbed it with both hands, moving around it, bending over; the tiny little skirt flared up to show off her firm ass, only covered by a tiny string between her cheeks.

If she had any control, she would have flushed at the feel of cool air on her skin.

She grabbed her own hips, caressing herself, pushing them up just slightly, gyrating to the music. There was a murmur of disappointment from the crowd when she released it, standing up straighter and let it fall.

And then she lifted up her handcuffs, unhooking them from the catch on her waist. She felt dread as the audience’s anticipation grew.

Then she was walking around the pole again, sliding one of the cuffs around her wrist, and holding the other; for now, it went unfastened, a mere prop to work with, feigning being cuffed to the pole.

And her other hand slapped her own ass, and started running up her side. Another momentary hiking of her skirt; then it crossed the neckline, tugging slightly to flash a nipple.

Inside, Waverly started panicking when she let go of the pole, and bent over; she thrust her ass out at the audience, shaking it, but her hands were at work again. She pushed the skirt up, showing off more of her ass, and kept pushing.

She took off her hat in her non-cuffed hand, and the dress kept ascending. It felt like aching, torturous hours, rather than mere seconds, before the garment was pushed off over her head.

She liked to hope she still had control, that she was the one forcing herself to face away from the crowd. Ok, by now she was only wearing stockings, a thong and a cliché police hat, but she was facing away from them. They could see far too much of her ass, but that was it.

Please don’t make her turn, please don’t-

Her body grabbed the pole again, loose cuff jangling, and she marched around it, coming to face the audience again to a cheer at her exposed tits. She still gyrated, apparently having no shame, displaying none of the sheer humiliation she was feeling inside.

And then a hand was hooking the waistband of her thong. She realised with a shock it was her own, that she was pushing…

She bent forwards, let her boobs sway, then snapped up again, moving to the music.

She grabbed her hat, and threw it out into the crowd, letting it spin away. In that momentary distraction, she yanked her panties down, the Waverly inside wanting to shriek.

The song was almost over, the song had to be almost over.

She posed on the stage still, now in only those stockings that did nothing but accentuate her ass. Bending over, twirling, thrusting her tits out, jiggling and winking and flirting with the music, degrading herself each second.

And then she did a final loop of the pole, this time facing away from it. She pressed her back against it, going through the motions of moaning like it was the best sex she’d ever had as she threw her head back against it, unable to fathom why she wasn’t bright red.

With a creeping horror, she remembered the handcuffs. Her arms went back, her ass rubbing against the pole as she shimmied up and down-

And with the final note of the song, there was a click. The cuffs surrounded her other wrist, linking them together on the far side of the hole and leaving her facing out, unable to cover herself, her cunt on full display as she crouched down and spread her legs, her tits arching out…

There was a moment of silence as the DJ stopped the track, and Waverly felt a voice that was hers, but that she had no control of, **** itself from her throat.

“Hey boys!” Waverly said, cheering like a party girl. “Slight switch-up. Forget being a cop, I’m your prisoner now. Remember, don’t let me go, no matter how much I beg.”

Far too late, Waverly felt control return to her.