I
Karen plopped her purse and her bags onto seat of the bench at the booth in in the food court, frowning at the broken red vinyl exposing the white fluff of the cushion between the jagged cracks running along the length of the bench. Despite the coolness of the mall air conditioning and the billowing skirt she wore with its pleats falling to mid-thigh, Karen felt sweaty, sticky, and uncomfortable.
Sweat beaded and dripped from her forehead, and her eyes burned at the salt.
She wiped her eyes with a tissue she found at the bottom of her purse.
She used the back of her toes on one foot to push the heel of her flat brown sandals off her other foot, then she repeated the movement.
She sighed at her feet relieved even of that minor pressure.
The cushion beside her shook, and Karen spun rapidly around to glare at whoever it was that had sat so close to her in such a huge food court, almost entirely devoid of occupants.
Fewer and fewer people went to the mall these days, she realized.
Her glare died, warming to a smile despite herself to see the stranger who'd sat down beside her.
Such a cute little thing, she couldn't be much more than eighteen, bright green eyes, short red-brown hair, freckles sprinkled on her rosy round cheeks, lips full and delicate, doll-like in their pink-lipstick, pursed smile, long lashes that might have been false they were so black and long, warm glowing eyeshadow above her eyes. She wore just about the shortest skirt Karen had even seen on girl, red sneakers with dark socks, and a light pink t-shirt, exposing the dimple of a belly button on her midriff, short petals just extending past her shoulders, and a fine silver necklace, tight around her neck like a choker, with two joined hearts hanging in the middle, just below her throat.
"I'm sorry, do I --?" Karen started to ask, but the girl cut her off.
"Don't speak. Not yet."
Karen's mouth hung open, and her glare returned, but no clear words emerged from her.
"Huh, huh, huh," she grunted vaguely, trying to use words, but the girl held a finger to Karen's bottom lips and smiled.
"No," she said, "complete silence. Not even a grunt or a groan until I say otherwise."
She winked at Karen.
"If I say otherwise."
II
The new girl looked Karen up and down, narrowing her eyes as if not altogether pleased with her companion.
"It feels better to take off your shoes, doesn't it? I bet it would feel really good to take off your panties."
Karen cast a frightened look at her interlocuter.
Spit drooled from the bottom lip of her open mouth, falling from her chin onto her sternum, between her breasts, large full C cups, exposed subtly by her top two unfastened buttons of her pale blue blouse.
The girl bobbed her head up and down rapidly and smiled encouragingly at Karen.
"Well go on. Take off your panties and hand them to me."
This whole time, Karen's mind raced inside her skull, her heart beat loudly and frantically behind her ribs, and her lips trembled. She tried desperately to speak, but somehow her words wouldn't come from her mouth, although her mind spun with things to tell the mysterious teenager.
Panic seized her, that momentary panic before fight-or-flight.
But here she could do nothing, and in that impotence, every brain cell screamed at her to take control of the situation, to wrest control from the demonic teenager smiling at her and ordering her to remove her panties.
In the mall.
In the food court of the mall.
And she could do nothing.
Inexplicably, unreasonably, impossibly she could do nothing.
Except silently scream in terror as her heart beat so hard inside her rib cage she thought it would burst from her chest.
This last order though.
And that's what it was, wasn't it?
An order.
Somehow Karen knew she had to follow the instructions given her, to obey what the girl in the pink shirt told her. Whatever it was.
As much as her mind resisted, it was overwhelmed by the need to yield to the words coming from the mouth of the adorable monster facing her.
And that thought shot more terror through her, a sharp cold thrill of terror freezeburning through her spine. Goosebumps bubbled on the trembling skin of her arms.
Her whole body boiled, she was being boiled alive in something she'd never felt before, something she couldn't even imagine.
"I'm waiting," the girl said.
But Karen gathered all her energy, all her mental strength, forced her words to burst from her mouth, to shout, to scream if need be.
She held her hands tight to the edge of the table, refusing to move them, even though every nerve, every impulse, every thought and desire told her, no, demanded her to slip her hand below her skirt, hook her thumbs through her panties waistband, and slide them down her legs.
"No," she yelled, but the yell squeaked from her throat in a whispering rasp.
Instantly pain tore through her head, sharp and brutal, like hundreds of old windows falling on all ten of her fingers and thumbs at once. She collapsed against the table in front of her, leaning over it in agony.
She stuck her hands under her armpits and squeezed tightly, trying to soothe a pain that couldn't possibly exist.
Her forehead fell on the tabletop with a hard loud thud, but no one in the food court looked up or seemed to notice.
But the girl slid to Karen's side, rubbing her back and shoulders with a gentle concern.
"It's okay, it's okay," she kept repeating. "It really is, but you've got to obey me. The pain will go away if you just obey me."
The flat of one side of Karen's face, turned towards her visitor, was pressed against the tabletop, drool pooled from her open mouth, and her glazed and eyes stared without focus at her tormentor.
"But how? How are you?"
"Don't worry about that. Take off your panties. You don't wear panties anymore. You hate them."
Karen's hands flew to her panties, and with one quick movement she tore them away from her hips, sliding the down her legs and pulling them off to give to the girl at her side.
Immediately the pain subsided.
"After all, you're going to be having your hand up your cunt most of the time anyway."
The girl brought Karen's peach-colored underwear to her nose and breathed deeply.
"Oh, heavens, you do smell nice," she said to Karen. "I'm Casey by the way. I'm going to be fucking your mind for quite some time. At least for today. Quite possibly the whole week."
III
Karen slowly sat up, regaining something of her composure.
"You won't be the same, of course. Not after I'm through with you. I'm going to scramble that brain of yours so hardcore. Go ahead and use that right hand to fuck yourself. Stick two, no three fingers into your hot little pussy. Go ahead. It's not really up to you anyway."
Karen had no more energy to resist the compulsion.
The searing pain had exhausted her as well as the strain on her mind.
Quite simply she had no mental wherewithal to resist, and her right hand, rather absent-mindedly, dropped to her lap, pulled her skirt high, and slipped under her clothes to go into her pussy.
She stuck two fingers into her pussy.
Then she added the third.
