Late Night in the Department Store

* Author's Note: Special thanks to

flabbw

for the story idea, and the constant conversation and inspiration.

I feel like I'll absolutely burst if I don't tell this story, so here goes.

Two days ago, I took off to do some clothes shopping after work. Nothing special, just a need to get some new work clothes, and replace some shoes. I don't often shop for clothes, because I don't like the whole hustle and bustle of clothing stores, and I don't like dealing with the constant questions from the sales girls, "Can I help you find something, ma'am?" "Ma'am." Hmph. I'm 35. I wouldn't figure that would really qualify me as "ma'am," but whatever.

I went later in the evening, just an hour or so before closing, to avoid some of that nonsense. I strolled through the quiet aisles, running my hands and eyes over the fabric of blouses and skirts and dresses, finding a few things here and there. Here a nice button up blouse, there a nice knee-length office skirt. Just a few things. I thought they looked nice.

Then it was off to shoes. Normally I'm pretty conservative when it comes to shoes, buying low flats or short office heels. I picked up a pair of black stand bys, and started off towards the dressing rooms to try on my various outfits. Just as I was leaving the shoes, though, I saw something that caught my eye. There, on a rack at the end of the aisle, were the most gorgeous, shiny, black leather boots I'd ever seen. They were amazing, with stiletto heels, and a length of boot that would go all the way up my calves. I stopped, chewing my lip for a moment, debating whether or not to try them on. I mean, of course I wouldn't get them. I'd never wear anything like that to the office. But, there they were, and they called to me. The sight of them made me ache, and I felt flushed a little as I noticed that I had started to get aroused.

"Ten minutes to closing. Please make your final purchases and exit the store. Thank you for shopping with us today!"

"Crap!" I mumbled. Making my decision, I reached out and fumbled ungraciously with the boxes, quickly pulling out the box with my size, and hustling off to the dressing rooms.

I walked to the counter, and no one was there. Normally there's a woman who asks how many items you have and lets you in, but not this time. Instead, there were just a bunch of open dressing room doors, so I walked to the farthest one and closed it tight.

Slowly I began to undress, taking stock of myself in the mirror.

I kicked off my sandals, pushing them under the bench behind me. Next I unfastened and took off my capris, wiggling them down my thighs, letting them drop to the floor. Lastly came my t-shirt, which I pulled off quickly, dropping it into the pile of clothes already on the floor. I stood there, looking at myself in just my bra and panties. My eyes traced over the lacey edges of the cups of my bra as it strained against my tits. I ran my hand along my stomach, and down my thighs, briefly reaching with a hand to touch the fabric of my panties, pressing them against my crotch and my mound. It was hot, and my hands were shaking.

Slowly I reached for the clothes I carried in with me. First I pulled on a silver, button up blouse. I left it unbuttoned as I reached for the black skirt, bending forward to step into it, wriggling it up my legs and over the mound of my behind. It zipped in the back, and I zipped it quietly, my hands still shaking.

Next I sat on the bench, reaching for the box that housed the boots. My heart was racing as I took them out, running my hands over the cool leather before lifting my leg, and forcing my foot inside. They slid on well, and they fit perfect and snug against my bare skin. I traced my fingertip over them and around the top of them where the black leather ended against my pale white skin. My own touch made me gasp, and I tossed my head back, running both my hands up my chest to cup and squeeze my breasts.

I couldn't help it. A soft moan escaped my mouth, and I squealed in delight at the feel of my nipples, hard and firm, pressing against the palms of my hands.

I stood up, walking to stand in front of the mirror now. The sight of myself turned me on. My blouse unbuttoned, the light blue lace of the bra showing through. The boots and their incredible heels, and the way the skirt conformed to my skin. I buttoned up the blouse slowly, biting my lip as I watched my nimble hands. Soon I stood there, the antithesis to everything that I was, looking at myself in the mirror, and feeling the warmth grow between my legs.

At the office, I was the mild mannered, meek woman who sat behind her desk with her glasses on, answering unimportant phone calls, pushing unimportant paper here and there. Now, here in this dressing room, I was the woman I fantasized about being – the seductress, the temptress, the office power slut who took men into her office and fucked their brains out, sending them out, clothes disheveled, dick limp from exhaustion.

The thought made me ache, and I absently reached down to pull up my skirt, running two fingers along the fabric of my panties, pressing it against my now wet and tender pussy lips.

"Oh God," I whimpered.

Knock knock

. "Ma'am?" It was a man's voice. "Ma'am, the store's closed now. You need to finish up in there and come outside."

"Oh... oh my gosh! I'm sorry! Just a minute!" I was terrified. Here I was at my most aroused, and my most vulnerable, and I had to hurriedly undress and get out before I got into trouble for being in the store after hours.

"Ma'am," he said again. His voice was gruffer this time, and more insistent. "Ma'am, open the door."

Not knowing what to do, I quickly rushed to the door of the dressing room, and opened it slightly.

The man forced himself inside. He grabbed my throat with one hand, covering my mouth with the other.

He pulled us towards the door, pushing it shut hard with his body. Then he spoke, in a desperate hushed whisper that was threatening and terrifying, "I'm going to fuck you now. And you're not going to cry out for help or resist, or else I'm going to beat you to death right here and leave you. You got that, you little whore?"

My eyes were wide, and my body was shaking with fear. I nodded, not knowing what else to do. This man had my life in his hands, and I had no choice but to let him have me his way.

"I'm going to take my hand off your mouth now. Don't scream." I nodded again, and slowly he pulled his hand off my mouth. I licked my lips, tasting the salty sweat of his hands on them, and trying to swallow as I still felt the force of his other hand choking me.

He was breathing heavily, and I could see his shoulders rise and fall and his nose flare as he ran his eyes over me. I felt dirty as he ogled me, and tried to turn my head away. His response was to reach for the blouse and rip it open, tearing off at least two buttons in the process.

I whimpered, and he slapped me as a warning. I started to cry, but he showed no sympathy and no reserve.

Already he was pulling up my skirt, forcing his hand between my legs, rubbing it hard and heavily against my pussy mound. I was still turned on from before, so I couldn't help myself when I moaned and gasped at his touch.

I was rewarded with a wicked smile from him, as he stared me straight in the eyes. "Ha! You bitch, you're enjoying this, aren't you? Well, that's just as good. I hate fucking a dry mound. And you're all nice and wet already. Mmm."

My heart was racing, even as the rest of my body betrayed me. Here was this man, forcing himself on me, getting set to rape me in the dressing room of a clothing store, and all I could think about was how hard my nipples were, and how good the forceful rubbing of his hand felt as he made contact with my clit and pussy lips.

"Oh God!" I moaned.

That was all he needed. Without hesitation, he turned me around, forcing me to bend over, placing my hands on the bench of the dressing room for support. I gasped, finally able to breathe with his hand off my throat. I felt him fumbling behind me, and realized that he must be undoing his pants to free his dick. Sure enough, I soon felt it pressed against my ass, as he reached quickly to pull the blouse completely off of me, ripping it some more in the process.

Next he reached for my bra. Instead of unfastening it, he grabbed the fabric and ripped it apart. I moaned again with excitement at the hunger and force with which he moved. My legs trembled, as my cunt throbbed and ached, waiting for him to ravish me.

I felt his hands hike up my skirt, pushing it up over my butt. "Nice boots," he commented, reaching down to run his hands along my thighs.

His hands were cold, but they were big and strong and hard. They were calloused and hairy, and I secretly begged him to bruise me; to grab me hard and leave marks of his rape.

I heard him spit on his hand, stroking and wetting his own dick as he pulled aside my panties.

"No!" I protested. My voice sounded weak, even in the confines of the tiny dressing room. But it didn't stop him. In no time at all, I felt the bare tip of his penis pass between my pussy lips, and I braced myself against the bench as he forced the rest of his shaft inside.

"Mmmph," we grunted in unison. He leaned over me, gripping my shoulders with his heavy hands, pulling me into him as he fucked me from behind. I pressed into him too, aching to have all of him inside of me. Aching for his hot, hard, heavy dick to fill me and make me whole.

At first it hurt. He was big, bigger than most men I've been with before. And I could feel my cunt stretching to fit his girth inside. Now he dug his nails into my skin, and I screamed out, only to have my hair pulled on as he urged me to be quiet.

"I can't," I whimpered, gasping for air as he railed me from behind. "I can't. It feels too good."

"Shit," he laughed, "you little whore. You like being raped?"

"Unn," was all I could manage, and I moaned and gasped weakly as he pumped himself harder and faster inside of me.

He was fucking me raw. Despite how wet my pussy had been, his dick was too big for me, and it was stretching me more and more, as he continued to push himself deeper inside. In less than ten minutes since the man first forced himself into the dressing room, I felt him make slower, harder thrusts, and heard him grunt as I felt him shoot his semen inside me.

"Oh fuck," I whimpered, moaning and lost to the pleasure and to the idea that I might now be pregnant with my rapist's child. It didn't bother him, though, as he continued to slowly pump more of his seed inside, squeezing out every last drop that he could.

"Mmm," he moaned. "What a nice, tight little pussy you have."

I broke down in tears. My body was aching and trembling, and my pussy was sore beyond any fucking I'd ever had. Without a word, the man pulled himself out of me, and tucked his semi-limp dick away.

"Thanks for the fuck, bitch," he said huskily, and then pushed me forward so I hit my head against the wall, dazing myself and collapsing, as he quickly opened the dressing room door and fled.

* * *

Upstairs, Jerry had seen the whole thing. It wasn't uncommon for department stores to have security cameras, and despite lawsuits that sometimes got media attention, most of them still kept cameras hidden in the dressing rooms so that they could catch people stealing clothes, or catch couples sneaking into the dressing rooms for public sex.

Jerry had watched silently as the man had come in and forced his way inside the dressing room, fucking and using the woman there, and leaving her behind as he got away.

Jerry should have called the police. Jerry should have gone down there to save her. Jerry should have done any number of things, but instead he sat there, watching like a teenage boy watching porn for the first time. And his dick grew hard, and he had reached down to rub it with the palm of his hand.

Now she was alone. The door to the dressing room was half open, and she was crying. He could see that clearly on the camera, as she reached down to her battered pussy lips, touching them briefly and then pulling her hand away.

He felt awful for her. But even still, he felt exhilarated. He had been so turned on by the force with which this man had fucked her. This stranger, who she would probably never see again, had found her alone and taken advantage of her, violating her like never before. He hadn't even used a condom, so he knew she must be filled with his cum.

As he watched in horror and excitement, the woman again reached to her pussy, but this time her hand lingered there. Jerry took control of the camera, and zoomed in as much as he could, and saw clearly that her fingers were moving. She was rubbing herself now. She was moving the tips of her fingers inside. She was withdrawing them and lifting them to her mouth, licking them clean.

Jerry swallowed. His heart was pounding, and so was the blood pressure in his rigid dick. He stood up, torn between what to do next.

Should he call the cops and get this woman help? Or should he go down there and have his way with her himself?

Just the thought of it weighed on his already laden dick, and he grabbed his flashlight and keys, and headed down to the floor and to the dressing room area where she was.

"Ma'am," he said softly, as he reached the half-open door. He knocked gently, and pushed it open.

She turned to look at him, her eyes half-open, swollen from crying, both afraid and calm. Like she had resigned herself to whatever would come next.

"Ma'am, can I have you sit on the bench and look at me?"

She complied, moving slowly, taking no care in hiding herself as she sat back against the wall. She left her legs spread, trying not to press them together and damage her already tender pussy. Her breasts hung loose and limp against her, even as her nipples still stood firm as they were exposed.

Jerry eyed her, scanning her up and down like a walking crime scene. There were the fingernail marks he had left on her shoulder. There were the bruises on her thighs. There was the tattered blouse, and her ruined bra. There was her hair, tossed and tangled from the rape just minutes before.

"Are you here to save me?" she said quietly.

"No," Jerry replied, clearing this throat as he pushed the dressing room door closed again. "I'm here to rape you."

Her eyes widened with fear again, and she looked frantically for any way out that she could find. Jerry put his finger to his lips, urging her to be quiet.

"If you don't go along with it, I can tell the store manager that you were here after hours, sneaking around and hoping to steal clothes. I can tell him how you fled when I confronted you, and I can make sure that no one believes you when you tell them otherwise."

"You sick son of a bitch," she spat at him.

It was enough to anger him, and he advanced on her quickly. Without preamble, he dropped his flashlight and keys, stepping quickly to kick off his boots and pull down his pants and boxers. He undid his shirt and tie, dropping them on the piles of clothes on the floor, reaching to lift her legs, spreading them apart as he leaned forward to line his dick up with her mound.

He could see the cum of her first rapist, and it turned him on even more, looking at it glisten against her red, tender pussy lips.

He grunted as he forced his dick inside of her, all in one, heavy movement. And she moaned in pain, wriggling beneath him, trying to resist.

He just grabbed her legs, holding them tighter against his body, as he started to move slowly inside of her. He reveled at the feel of her bare pussy, and how warm and smooth it felt against his throbbing dick. He glanced at the boots that she still wore, and reached up with a hand to forcefully grab and fondle her tits.

She was silent, looking up at her second rapist with furious eyes, but every once in a while closing them for a moment as his dick hit her deep inside, and her body reacted with a moan.

Jerry was growing harder inside her. He could feel it in how his dick stretched at her pussy lips, and how he had to adjust his stance to get deeper inside her. Now she had wrapped her hands around his neck, holding on as he picked up speed. His dick was throbbing already, aching and burning, ready to burst. But he took deep breaths, slowing his orgasm, keeping it at bay. He was going to fuck her long and hard, leaving her broken and battered even worse than before.

He ran his hands over her breasts, cupping and squeezing them fiercely, working to leave little red marks where his fingers had been. They were soft and ample, and he loved how they shook as he rocked her body in the dressing room.

Before long, he felt her tense and gasp, and her legs trembled as she shuddered, and his dick felt the new sensation of her warm, slippery cum along his dick.

Jerry smiled, even as she whimpered and shook, riding out the waves of orgasm that rocked her now.

"Christ," she whimpered, exhausted and helpless beneath him, her twitching and orgasm gone.

"My turn now," Jerry said heavily. He adjusted his stance now, planting his feet against the floor as he pushed himself inside of her. Now she gasped, and she moaned and cooed as he fucked her. His thrusts were heavy and deep, and he slid his fingernails along her back, as she wrapped her legs around him.

In a few moments, Jerry felt his cum rising, and reached up with a hand to choke her, forcing himself in and out of her battered pussy, even as she choked and gasped for air. Then, with a few more heavy, quick thrusts, he burst inside of her, his cum shooting out in several, heavy streams.

She moaned, and he held his hand around her throat, until she milked the last of his cum from his cock with her pussy. Then, when his arms and legs ached, he let go, pulling himself slowly out of her, watching his dick spring free.

He stood there, and she sat there, both in silence, as they gazed at her broken and battered mound. She touched her pussy gently, and gasped at the pain it caused. She closed her eyes, and he watched as she squeezed out streams of semen from her naked pussy, and watched as it soaked the fabric of her skirt, and left wet spots on the wood of the dressing room bench.

"Here," Jerry tossed her another one of the blouses she had brought in with her. "Put this on. I'll go get you a bag for the rest of your stuff."

Jerry strode out confidently, despite being completely naked and on the watchful eye of the store cameras. He returned shortly with two large plastic bags, and helped the woman force her clothes inside, including her tattered bra and blouse.

"Now, get out." He demanded.

"But," she protested, "I haven't paid."

"I took your payment. Now just take your stuff and go."

She looked up at him, helpless, but now unafraid, and left the store, working her way through obstacles of aisles, and quickly pushing open the door and walking in tears to her car.

Jerry stood, stroking his dick which was hard again. Knowing that he still needed to take care of the tapes up above, he grabbed his clothes and his flashlight and keys, and headed back up to the office to watch the tape again, eagerly planning to stroke himself off again.

* * *

I cried the whole way home. When I finally got back, I opened the door and went straight to my bedroom, where I tossed the bag of cum-covered tattered clothes into a pile next to the bed, and rolled tiredly onto the mattress.

I reached down gingerly to test my pussy again, and recoiled briefly as I felt how raw and sensitive I was. My panties were ruined. I could feel frayed lace against my fingers, even as I could feel how soaked they were. But I still had on the boots and skirt and blouse from before.

As I sat there, staring into the ceiling in the dark, my fingers gently tracing my raped pussy lips, I moaned and smiled.