Something scary happened to me yesterday.

     I was at Kohl’s, looking around, and I accidentally took a bracelet off the sales rack by the entrance and slipped it on my wrist. I mean, look–I know it was wrong, but the bracelet was so pretty, and I just didn’t have the money to buy it. My mom is sorta in a tight spot right now, and I really wanted that accessory…

     Keeping my head down, I made my way toward the exit and tried to shake the feeling of a million eyes watching my every move. It felt like an eternity of bunched nerves and swirling anxiety before I finally made it past the weird oblong white gates in front of the department store doors. I always wondered what those things were…

     Suddenly, a piercingly shrill ringing noise bit through to my eardrums. It sounded a lot like the beeping thing that happens in my house when I accidentally open a window in the middle of the night.

     I couldn’t tell what that weird noise was…but it was so loud…I kept walking, slowly and kinda watchful-like, peeking over my shoulder just as I was about to reach the door…and someone grabbed me. “What’s that on your arm?” the stern voice demanded. I squeaked. “I, um, well, it’s uh…” My stuttered attempt at an explanation came out rushed and pathetic sounding, even to my own ears. The man was unmoved. His eyes slanted with punishing fervor.

    He didn’t seem to believe me when I told him that the bracelet was mine from home. Actually, I thought he might suddenly shake me very hard and then take a bite out of my neck. He looked angry enough to do it.

     “Come with me,” he ordered, and then starting pulling me away from the exit and toward a door marked ‘Private’ on the side of the store. At first, my reaction was to fight like a wildcat and hiss, trying to pull away. But he shot me a very mean, dangerous look and I quickly settled down and follow him–though my fears were not abated.

     He shoved me into his office room and told me to sit down in the chair. His no-nonsense voice was very intimidating, and I did as I was told. “What street do you live on?” he shot out, his questions sounding much more like harsh demands with no room for an argument.

     “I, um, I didn’t do anything wrong,” I said nervously.

     The man’s eyes slanted again. “You lying little bitch.”

     He sounded so mean…I started sniffling. I really wished my Mommy was there.

     “You’re a thief!” he continued. “You sneaky little whore. I am calling your parents and then the police. Do you understand what’s going to happen to you now? You’re in BIG trouble, little girl.”

     I started protesting rapidly, coming up with any excuse necessary to convince him not to tell on me. “Please, please, please,” I begged, “I’m sorry! I’ll give the bracelet back! I didn’t mean to do it!”

     My words weren’t enough for him.

     “Take off your blouse,” he told me.

     Huh? I thought.

     He seemed to detect my uncertainty and gave me a glance-over, his eyes boring into every part of me. I shivered and drew back, crossing my arms over my chest protectively.

     His voice rang out again, at full-volume and sounding completely unabashed. “I’m going to need to do a full body cavity search. You know what that is?”

     I shook my head no.

     He nodded, as though he knew I was just a ‘sneaky little whore’ who couldn’t possibly know anything. I sniffled in response. “It’s where you take off your clothes and I stick my fingers into your orifices to make sure you’re not hiding anything else up there.” He glared at me.

     “But, but!” I protested. “I promise, I only took the bracelet!”

     The security guard was not wanting to listen to my excuses. He grabbed me by my shoulders and brought his face close to mine. His fingers bit harshly into my skin, and I whimpered in pain, trying to pull back. He stayed firm and stared right into my eyes.

     “Look you little bitch–I’m going to need to search you. You’re a criminal. If you didn’t want this problem, you shouldn’t have stolen from my store. Now do I need to make some phone calls here?”

     I shook my head frantically and my hands reached up to unbutton my blouse, shaking all the way. When my soft, tender flesh was exposed to his sight, he grabbed at my bra and ripped it off me, ignoring my feeble, pained mews in unease and fear.

     He licked his lips as his rough hands grabbed my budding breasts.

     “You in puberty? Developin’?” He asked. With his New York accent, it sounded like he was leaving off the ‘g.’

     I nodded meekly.

     “Take off your panties,” he bit out.

     “What?!” I squealed. “Please, no!”

     The security guard shook his head gruffly and grunted; I yielded to his threatening expression. Resigned and defeated, I slipped out of the rest of my clothes and stood there naked in front of him.

     He wasted no time. He pawed at me and bent me over the chair. It was awful and so invasive and degrading. I was embarrassed, ashamed, and horribly distressed. He stuck a finger in my asshole and searched for jewelry. Then he did the same to my little cunny hole. Finally, after what felt like hours of his fingers pushing upward into my holes, he drew his hand back and straightened up again.

     I thought the worst was over, but then he took out his baton. He got it out of his pants, and then told me to put it in my mouth. I did as I was told. “How does it taste?” he asked me sleazily. I kept crying as he shoved it deeper into my throat hole.

     “It’s warm and long and hard,” I answered. “It’s sort of salty.” Suddenly, I flinched. “I think it just moved in my mouth!” I informed him in shock. He just rolled his eyes and slapped me in the face. My jaw throbbed painfully, and I cast my eyes downward.

     Next, he tied my wrists and ankles down to the chair in front of him. He thrust his fingers up into my holes and told me to keep sucking his baton. I listened to what he told me to do.

     Then…it was over. He gave me harsh warning never to steal anything from his store again, and told me to put my clothes back on and leave.

     Just as I was making a run for the door, elated and joyous out of my mind for having avoided a confrontational scenario involving my parents and the police, he stopped me in my tracks.

     “And I hope you don’t think this is over,” his voice slithered lowly. “I expect you back here tomorrow. We’re going to see how far I can fit my baton into your little baby asshole.”

     I sniffled tearfully and nodded in obedience.

     “Good,” he said. “Now get the FUCK out of my sight.”

Leslie

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