Author: Scissorman

Note: I am forty five years old and have been scissor guy for as long as I can remember. I have written stories, watched videos, and, surfed the net to entertain my fetish. There is an awful lot good scissor's stuff out there, but my mind always comes back to a handful of scissor's that I have either had applied to me, or seen applied to someone else. Under the pen name of Scissorman, I will share these stories. For the most part they are true, I may exaggerate for entertainment purposes, but only slightly as the power of the tales is in the fact that they actually happened.

Story 1- Ms. Braunier

The year is nineteen seventyfive, I'm twelve years old and in seventh grade. Ms. Braunier is my French teacher and she's got a great pair of legs. I remember thinking about her legs long before this incident. Ms. Braunier always wore mid length skirts with high heels that showed off her muscled calves and shapely thighs. It wasn't just me that was looking at her, it was common knowledge that all the male teachers were falling over to help her all the time. Apparently she was a retired professional dancer, who took up teaching at the age of thirty five.

The other thing to know about Ms. Braunier, was that she was not a teacher to be messed with. I was a kid that got into my share of trouble, but I knew not to mess with Ms. Braunier. It had been the previous year when I was issued a detention which I decided to skip. I was home for about twenty minutes when Ms. Braunier showed up at my house, talked to my mother, and brought me back to school. As punishment, I was forced to stay after school for two hours per night for two weeks. After that I always tried hard not to cross Braunier.

It was the day before Christmas vacation and everyone was excited. Nobody wanted to be in French class, but at least it was going to be festive. Ms. Braunier had brought in a array of French deserts which we would eat while watching a slide show of different French Christmas traditions. The room was set up with two rows of about twelve desks each facing each other. In between was about eight feet of floor space that allowed Ms. Braunier to walk in the center and keep good contact with all of us.

Today Braunier sat in the middle at the back of the aisle and the slide screen was at the other end. As usual she was wearing an outfit with a short black skirt that was slitted, her legs were awesome. The lights were dimmed and she was flipping the slides when I felt something hit my head. It was a piece of cake thrown by Tommy Capelli. I did what any twelve year old kid would do and threw a piece back. Unfortunately for me, Ms. Braunier saw me and forced me to sit in a chair next to her. We were five minutes into a forty five minute class and I was upset. After five minutes I was squirming all over the chair and making faces at my classmates. Ms. Braunier was furious, she grabbed me by the arm and pulled me onto her lap.

It was pretty embarrassing being a twelve year old forced to sit on my teachers lap. I did not want to get in more trouble, but I couldn't sit still on her lap for the next forty minutes. After five minutes of trying to be good, I started to really squirm. At first she put her arm around my waist and held me in place but eventually I knew I was going to slip off her lap. As gravity did it's work I began to slip down. I tried to slip of to the side, but her arm pushed me toward the middle and I ended up falling between her legs.

The class began to laugh and I smiled as I was pleased with myself. My happiness did not last long. I tried to stand up but something on my shoulders pushed me back down. I thought it was Ms.Braunier's arms but as I saw her calves and high heels stretch out in front of me, I knew it was her legs. Ms. Braunier was sitting on a childrens seat so she was low to the ground and at a perfect height to scissor my head. I felt her hand cup my chin as she moved my head where she wanted it. I tried to get up again as I saw her ankles lock in front of me and her thighs enclose around my head. As she tightened her grip, I felt her thighs crushing my face and scrunching all the fat on my face.

“Let's see you squirm out of this one.” Ms. Braunier whispered in my ear.

“Aaaarrrghhhh!” I groaned trying to free my head. My hands shot up and and landed just above her knees as I tried pull her legs open. They wouldn't move. I could barley move my head at all and when I tried, Ms. Braunier would tighten and the pain would be unbearable until I sat still.

Ms. Braunier was completely in control. She flipped the slide projector when prompted by the tape recording and added in her own comments. Meanwhile she calmly held my head between her legs. The inability to move was driving me crazy, finally I lashed out and punched her knee. Ms. Braunier quickly reached out and seized my arm. While keeping her focus on her class, she intertwined her fingers with mine and squeezed my hand in hers, keeping my arm behind my back.

I was in agony. My arm was hurting, my fingers were being crushed, and while my head was not really being squeezed, it was being held immobile. The rest of the class was now enjoying themselves while I was locked in an inescapable wrestling move in the middle of the class. I struggled a little to free myself but it was useless.

“Aaarrgghh!” Please let my arm go! I whined.

To my surprise she let my arm go, but my head was still locked.

“Please let me out.” I yelled.

“Should I let him go?” She asked the class.

“Noooooooo” they yelled.

“Guess the class wants you to stay put, unless you can get yourself out of this, your stuck until class is over.”

And that's what happened, for the last twenty minutes of class I just sat there, locked up in Ms. Braunier's legs. At the end of the class, my classmates left first, then, Ms. Braunier made me promise a whole list of things before she let me out. Then she gave me a ride home, stopped in and told my parents the whole story. For the next year anytime I got in trouble my parents would threaten to call Ms. Braunier.

After thought: When this incident happened I was terrified and not sexually stimulated, but it became a memory that stimulated me and may be the incident responsible for my fetish.