Late Shopping

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Copyright Oggbashan August 2006

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

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On Tuesday and Friday evenings I call in at our local convenience store on the way back home from work. On Tuesdays I have no problem because the shop stays open much later than my visit. On Fridays it is touch and go whether I get to the shop before it closes because I have deadlines to meet.

I know that I annoy the shop assistants on duty on Friday evenings. The shop's owner always leaves well before six o'clock those nights. The three women have to close the store, leaving it ready to open early on Saturday, when three more women have to open it and run it until the owner returns about seven o'clock Saturday evening.

The Friday night shop assistants are sensible and mature women but they can be tired and irritated by the time I walk into their shop. I can feel their hostility as I select my items and pay. As soon as I leave, and often before I leave, the closed sign is displayed and the door is locked. One of them unlocks the front door for me when I have finished. Once the blind on the shop door is down, no one can see in from outside.

That Friday evening I just made it in time. The brunette, Helen, was just about to turn the sign to closed. She scowled at me as she stood aside to let me enter. She shut and locked the door behind me.

Unusually, I was carrying my briefcase. The documents inside were too important to risk leaving in my car even for a few minutes. I picked up a hand basket and walked quickly round the store. My briefcase was an encumbrance. I was about to put it down as I turned the end of an aisle. My briefcase caught on a gondola stacked with small chocolate items and sent everything flying across the floor.

"That does it!" exclaimed Helen. "Marion, drop the blind. Mr Jones, we have had enough of you. Please pick everything up and put it as it was. Give me the basket and your briefcase... And you had better take your jacket off."

Helen was giving me orders. I ought to have resented her tone but I knew that I was an irritation to them every Friday. I meekly handed her my basket and briefcase. She passed them to the third assistant, Elaine, who took them to the till and started totalling my purchases. Helen stood there with her hand out, waiting for my jacket. I shrugged it off and passed it to her. She took it to the till and returned to stand over me as I lifted the gondola into place and started retrieving the scattered chocolate.

It took me about ten minutes to sort and stack the chocolate. The gondola had dented one Cadbury's Crème Egg. I handed it to Helen who said:

"I'll add that to your bill."

I nodded. We walked to the till. Elaine had totalled and bagged my purchases. She added the Crème Egg to the total.

"And these..." Helen said, handing a packet of stockings to Elaine.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I laddered a stocking on that gondola."

"You didn't!" I retorted.

"Yes, I did," Helen replied, "but earlier today. I think you should pay for them. What's the total, Elaine?"

"Seventeen pounds thirty."

Helen held out her hand for the money.

"It's in my jacket," I said.

"Then you can't pay for them?"

"Not without my wallet – in my jacket."

"And you haven't got your jacket, have you?"

"Yes I have. I gave it to you."

"And if we three say you didn't, what could you do?"

"You wouldn't?"

"Wouldn't we?" Elaine said. "And I think a briefcase has gone missing too."

"This is a joke, isn't it?" I pleaded.

"Yes and No," said Helen. "You have been annoying us for months by arriving just as we shut and delaying us. We decided that we would pay you back and get you to understand what your lack of courtesy means. Tonight was the last straw. You will do what we say and you might get your jacket and briefcase back. If not..."

"If not..." I prompted.

"For a start we could claim you were shoplifting and without means to pay. Or we could jump on you, tie you up, call the Police and claim that you tried to rape us. During the struggle your DNA would be on all our clothes and once we had you tied we might arrange for your DNA to be on our intimate items."

"OK, Helen," I sighed. "You win. What do you want from me?"

"For a start we will call you Peter. That is your name, isn't it?"

I nodded.

"You will call us Mistress Helen, Mistress Marion and Mistress Elaine. You will do exactly what we tell you to do. You don't have to agree. You will just do."

I nodded.

"We don't want to hear a word from you. Turn around with your back to me and kneel."

I knelt.

"This will keep you quiet."

She showed me the damaged Crème Egg. She fed it into one of the stockings from the packet she had added to my purchases and knotted the stocking either side of the egg.

"Open wide."

She pushed the nylon-covered egg into my mouth and tied the stocking tight behind my head.

"Get up. Elaine will show you what to do."

Elaine gave me a mop and detergent filled bucket. She told me to wash the shop's floor starting farthest from the door and working backwards towards the till. She was fussy about exactly how clean the floor had to be. I had to move everything that was moveable and wash underneath. Several times Elaine would insist that I washed a heavily used area again because she wasn't satisfied with its cleanliness.

Marion and Helen were working their way around the store filling shelves and straightening displays. Although they were working efficiently the task took them a long time, as did my floor-washing. It was over an hour before all of us had finished. Elaine took my mop and bucket away.

Helen told me to sit on the chair reserved for elderly customers. She untied the stocking and removed the Crème Egg from my mouth. Elaine and Marion flanked her as she stood facing me.

"That is a start, Peter. You were very slow and not very good at cleaning the floor. Now you see what we have to do after you leave the shop and every Friday you delay the start of our work. That isn't acceptable, is it?"

"No, Helen."

Helen's hand slapped the side of my face.

"No, MISTRESS Helen. Got that?"

Her hand was poised to hit again.

"No, Mistress Helen," I said.

"Good. We will give you your jacket and briefcase, you can pay your bill, and then you can leave but first..."

I waited.

"We want to be sure that if ever we accuse you of rape because you aren't behaving yourself, that we have useful evidence. Your DNA might be enough but other things would be better. Put your hands down beside the chair. Elaine, Marion, you know what to do."

Elaine and Marion produced rolls of parcel tape. They taped my wrists and hands to the chair legs and my ankles as well. Marion unfastened my trousers and slid them and my boxers below my knees. Unbidden my tool sprang erect.

"Thanks, you two. Now get ready."

All three reached under the skirts of their uniform dresses and pulled their panties down. Elaine pushed her warm panties over my face.

"Lick them!" she hissed in my ear. I licked until Marion's panties followed. Finally I licked Helen's panties. Helen stood back and loosened the bodice of her uniform revealing a dark blue satin bra and a deep cleavage. She moved forward and pulled my head into her cleavage.

A hand wrapped panties around my tool and began to stroke. Buried deep between Helen's breasts and gently stimulated I shuddered to release in a very short time.

"Done, Helen," Elaine's voice announced.

"Enough?" Helen asked.

"Yes. All three panties are sodden."

"Good." Helen pulled back, letting me gasp for air.

"Please, cut him free, Marion."

Marion cut the parcel tape and pulled it off, ripping some of the hairs off my arms. I shuffled my boxers and trousers back up.

"That's it for tonight, Peter," Helen said. "Next Friday you will be here just before we close and you will help us get the shop ready for tomorrow. We have got your saliva and semen on our panties to 'prove' you attempted to rape three respectable women. You will obey us or we will produce our violated panties. Do you understand?"

"Yes Mistress."

What else could I say? Next Friday they will make me work for them again. What else might they do with a week to think about it?