The cheap perfume stung my nostrils, a cloying sweetness that did little to mask the thrumming anxiety in my chest. Three lipsticks, a miniature bottle of Chanel No. 5, and a silk scarf – my loot for the afternoon, tucked haphazardly into my worn-out tote bag. Eighteen years old and feeling utterly, desperately invisible. This was my rebellion, my pathetic attempt to taste a life that felt perpetually out of reach.
I slipped through the department store doors, the alarm a shrieking banshee in my ears. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. A hand, rough and firm, clamped down on my arm.
“Not so fast, love,” a gruff voice rumbled.
Panic flared. I turned to face a man built like a brick shithouse, his face etched with boredom and suspicion. A security guard, his uniform straining at the seams.
He frog-marched me through the bustling mall, past gawking shoppers and sniggering teenagers, to a door marked “Staff Only.” The backroom was a dimly lit, claustrophobic space, smelling of stale coffee and desperation. He shoved me into a chair, its plastic cold against my thighs.
“Empty your bag,” he commanded, his eyes flat and unyielding.
My hands trembled as I pulled out the stolen goods, laying them on the grimy table like offerings to a malevolent deity. Shame burned in my cheeks.
“Right,” he said, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. “We can call the police, or we can do this the easy way.”
My breath hitched. “Easy way?” I whispered, the word barely audible.
He smirked, a predatory glint in his eyes. “The easy way involves a little… cooperation.” He took a step closer, his presence suddenly suffocating. “Let’s just say, you have something I want, and I have something you desperately need.”
My stomach churned. I knew exactly what he meant. I’d seen the way he looked at me, the way his eyes lingered on my chest, my legs. This wasn’t about the stolen perfume; it was about power, about control.
“I… I don’t understand,” I stammered, feigning innocence.
He chuckled, a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down my spine. “Don’t play coy with me, love. You’re a clever girl, I can tell. A pretty girl too.” He reached out, his knuckles grazing my cheek. I flinched, recoiling from his touch.
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“I want you to be a good girl,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “I want you to show me how grateful you are for my… discretion.” His hand moved down, tracing the curve of my breast.
His touch sent a jolt of revulsion through me, but I forced myself to remain still, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. I knew what he wanted, what he expected. The thought of it made my stomach turn, but the alternative – the police, the shame, the consequences – was unbearable.
“Okay,” I whispered, the word sticking in my throat. “I’ll do whatever you want.” A slow, victorious smile spread across his face.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his hand still resting on my breast. “Now, let’s start with something simple. Stand up and take off your clothes.”
I hesitated, my hands trembling as I reached for the hem of my shirt. I pulled it over my head, revealing the plain white bra beneath. My cheeks burned with humiliation as I unbuttoned my jeans, sliding them down my legs along with my underwear.
He leaned back against the wall, his eyes roaming over my exposed flesh with a predatory hunger. I stood before him, shivering in my bra and panties, feeling more vulnerable than I ever had in my life. The cool air prickled my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms and thighs.
“Not bad,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “But let’s see the rest, shall we?”
With trembling fingers, I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra. It fell away, revealing my small, pert breasts. My nipples hardened instantly under his gaze, betraying my body’s unwanted response to his attention. I swallowed hard, fighting back tears as I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and pushed them down, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. I stood completely naked before him, my arms wrapped tightly around my torso in a futile attempt to shield myself.
He circled me slowly, his eyes drinking in every inch of my exposed skin. I could feel his gaze like a physical touch, heavy and invasive. He stopped behind me, his breath hot against my neck.
“Turn around,” he ordered, his voice gruff. “Let me see your face while I inspect my prize.” I turned, forcing myself to meet his eyes. They were cold, calculating, and filled with a hunger that made my stomach churn. He reached out, his calloused fingers tracing the curve of my jaw, the swell of my breast. I bit my lip, fighting back a shudder of revulsion.
“Not so shy now, are you?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over my nipple. It hardened instantly, betraying my body’s unwanted response. “Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind is trying to deny it.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of fear and something else, something darker and more shameful. I tried to ignore the way my body responded to his touch, the way my heart raced and my breath quickened. I was trapped, helpless, and yet a part of me, a twisted, desperate part, craved his attention, his approval. He stepped closer, his body pressing against mine, his arousal evident through his uniform pants. I could feel the heat of him, the hardness, and I shuddered, my mind reeling with the implications. He wanted me, wanted to use me, and at that moment, I realized that I had no choice but to submit.
His hand moved lower, his fingers brushing against the curls at the juncture of my thighs. I gasped, my legs trembling as he parted them gently, his touch sending jolts of unwanted pleasure through me.
His fingers delved deeper, parting my folds, and exploring the slick heat of my core. I bit my lip, stifling a moan as he found that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling it with maddening precision. My hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his touch.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “Don’t fight it. Your body knows what it wants.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of shame and arousal warring within me. I was trapped, helpless, and yet a part of me, a twisted, desperate part, craved his attention, his approval.
He slipped a finger inside me, then another, stretching me, filling me. I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders as he began to pump his hand, his thumb still circling my clit. The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure and humiliation intertwined in a dizzying dance.
His fingers plunged in and out of my wet pussy, the sound of my juices filling the room.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his breath hot against my neck. “I can’t wait to feel this little cunt wrapped around my cock.” I moaned, my hips bucking against his hand as he fingered me harder, faster. The pleasure was intense and overwhelming, and I hated myself for enjoying it. I was supposed to be fighting, resisting, but my body betrayed me, arching into his touch, craving more.
He added a third finger, stretching me even further. I cried out, my pussy clenching around him. “That’s it, take it,” he growled. “I think your juicy cunt is ready for my cock, dont you.”
His dirty words sent a surge of heat through my body, my pussy clenching around his invading fingers. I was so wet, so ready, and the thought of his thick cock filling me made me moan loudly.
“Yes,” I gasped, my hips grinding shamelessly against his hand.”Please, I need it. I need your big cock inside me.”
He chuckled darkly, his fingers still pumping in and out of my soaked pussy.”Greedy little thing, aren’t you? Begging for my dick like a whore.”
I whimpered, my face burning with shame and arousal. But I couldn’t deny it – I was begging, desperate to feel him inside me. “Please,” I pleaded, my voice shaking. “Fuck me. Use me. I’ll do anything.”
He withdrew his fingers suddenly, leaving me empty and aching. I cried out at the loss, my pussy clenching around nothing.
He unbuckled his belt with a swift, deliberate motion, the metal clinking loudly in the small room. His pants dropped to the floor, revealing his thick, hard cock. It sprang free, long and veiny, the tip glistening with pre-cum. My eyes widened at the sight, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through me.
“On your knees, this feels like that porn site doesn’t it. The shoplifter one, shopliftersxxx.com.” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. I hesitated for a moment before sinking to the cold, hard floor. The concrete bit into my skin, a stark reminder of my vulnerable position. He stepped closer, his cock bobbing inches from my face. The musky scent of his arousal filled my nostrils, making my head spin.”Open your mouth,” he ordered, his hand wrapping around the base of his shaft.
I parted my lips, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. He guided the head of his cock to my mouth, smearing the pre-cum across my lips.
He pushed forward, his thick shaft sliding past my lips and onto my tongue. I gagged slightly as he hit the back of my throat, but he didn’t stop, pushing deeper until my nose was buried in his pubic hair. I could feel his balls resting against my chin, heavy and full. “Fuck, your mouth is so warm,” he groaned, his hips starting to move. He pulled back slowly, until only the tip remained between my lips, before slamming forward again. I gagged again, tears springing to my eyes as he began to fuck my face, his cock pistoning in and out of my mouth.
“Look at me,” he demanded, his hand gripping my hair tightly. I forced my eyes open, staring up at him as he used my mouth. His face was contorted with pleasure, his jaw clenched and his eyes blazing with lust. “That’s it, take it all,” he growled.
His thick cock stretched my lips wide as he plunged in and out, the wet sounds of my gagging and his groaning filling the room. Tears streamed down my face, my mascara running in black rivulets. But despite the discomfort, I felt a twisted sense of power, knowing I was pleasing him. My tongue swirled around his shaft, tasting the salty tang of his pre-cum.
He pulled out suddenly, leaving me gasping for air. His cock was slick with my saliva, bobbing angrily in front of my face. “Turn around,” he ordered, his voice hoarse with desire. “I want to fuck that tight little pussy from behind.” I scrambled to my feet, my legs shaking. I turned, bending at the waist and placing my hands on the cold table. My ass was high in the air, my pussy exposed and vulnerable.
He stepped forward, his hands gripping my hips tightly. I could feel the heat of his body behind me, the hardness of his cock pressing against my ass. He rubbed the tip of his shaft up and down my slit, coating it in my juices.” Are you ready for this, you little thief?” he growled, his voice laced with menace and lust.”Yes,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation.”Please, fuck me.”
With a grunt, he slammed into me, his thick cock piercing my tight pussy in one swift motion. I cried out, my fingers digging into the table as he stretched me, filling me completely. He was bigger than his fingers, thicker and longer, and the sensation of being so utterly invaded was overwhelming.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his hips starting to move.
He began to fuck me in earnest, his hips pistoning back and forth as he pounded into my pussy. The table shook with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. I gripped the edges tightly, my knuckles turning white, as he drove into me again and again.
“Oh god,” I moaned, my head falling forward as he hit a particularly deep spot. “You’re so big. You’re splitting me open.”
He leaned over me, his chest pressing against my back, his breath hot on my neck. “You love it, don’t you?” he growled. “You love being fucked by a real man, not some boy.”
He grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head back as he continued to pound into me. His other hand snaked around, finding my clit and rubbing it roughly in time with his thrusts. The dual sensations were overwhelming, pleasure and pain mingling in a dizzying dance.
“Take it, you little slut,” he grunted, his hips slamming against my ass. “Take my cock like the greedy whore you are.”
His dirty words sent a surge of heat through my body, my pussy clamping down around him. I was so close, my orgasm building with each thrust, each twist of his fingers on my clit.
“Yes, yes!” I cried out, my hips bucking wildly against him. “Fuckme harder!”
His hips pistoned faster, his thick cock plunging in and out of my soaked pussy with brutal force. The table creaked and groaned beneath us, threatening to collapse under the onslaught of his relentless fucking.
“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!” I screamed, my body convulsing as my orgasm crashed over me. My pussy clamped down around his shaft, pulsing and fluttering as waves of pleasure washed through me.
He didn’t let up, continuing to pound into me even as I trembled and shook beneath him. “That’s it, cum on my cock,” he growled, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. “Milk me dry, you little slut.”
His words, combined with the sensation of his thick shaft stretch me, prolonging my climax. I felt him swell inside me, his movements becoming erratic and uncontrolled. “Fuck, I’m cumming!”
He pulled out suddenly, his thick cock slapping against my ass. I felt a rush of disappointment, my pussy clenching around nothing. But then I felt his hand on my shoulder, pushing me down onto my knees.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded, his voice strained with impending release. I parted my lips obediently, my tongue outstretched. He gripped his shaft, pumping it vigorously, his eyes locked on mine. “Fuck, here it comes,” he groaned, his body tensing.
With a final grunt, he erupted, thick ropes of hot cum splattering across my face and tongue. I moaned, my eyes fluttering closed as I felt the warm, sticky liquid coating my skin. He pumped his shaft, milking every last drop onto my waiting mouth and cheeks.
His thick, creamy seed dripped down my chin, coating my lips and tongue. The taste was salty and slightly bitter, a testament to his intense release. I swallowed instinctively, feeling the warmth spread through my throat. His hand remained on his cock, gently stroking it as the last few drops of cum oozed out, landing on my forehead and eyelashes.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and satisfied. “You took it like a champ.” He stepped back, tucking his now-flaccid member back into his pants. I remained on my knees, my chest heaving, my body covered in a sheen of sweat and his semen.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled tissue, tossing it at me. “Clean yourself up, then get the fuck out of here,” he ordered gruffly.
I wiped the cum from my face. The cold, rough paper did little to soothe my flushed skin. I felt dirty and used, and yet a part of me craved more. I wanted him to touch me again, to fill me, to make me his. But he was already turning away, his interest in me fading as quickly as it had ignited. I stumbled to my feet, my legs shaking, and began to gather my scattered clothes. The fabric felt foreign against my skin, a stark reminder of the innocence I had lost.
As I dressed, I caught sight of myself in the grimy mirror on the wall. My hair was a tangled mess, and my makeup was smeared and ruined. But it was the look in my eyes that startled me – a mix of shame, fear, and something else, something darker and more insidious.