Disclaimer: This is a fantasy about acts that would be terribly immoral in reality.
***
I knew something was wrong as soon as Ashanti called in sick.
I have four girls working for me in my MattressSoft shop. Ashanti Jones was one of the oldest; she'd been working for me since she graduated high school almost five years ago. She was petite, with beautiful kinky black hair, a warm smile, and eminently kissable lips. Her curves were modest - Sir Mix-a-lot would not have liked her nearly as much as I did - but I would have enjoyed exploring them all the same.
I'd been keeping a close eye on Ashanti and the other girls in my shop for a while. Two months earlier, a man had somehow snuck in when my employee Georgia was closing by herself. He'd forced her to strip, then held her down and ravished her on one of the display beds. He'd pleasured her until she came, then filled her helpless pussy with his seed. Now, two months later, you could just see the beginning of her baby bump.
Ashanti had been a huge help as Georgia found her new normal. She regularly went to lunch with Georgia, and always volunteered to work late with her so that she'd never have to be alone in the shop. It was heartening to know that my girls supported each other, but I still worried.
The police had told me to watch out for anything unusual, and Ashanti calling in sick the day after she'd closed by herself was very unusual. She never got sick, even when the rest of the shop had the flu. So, my first wonder was whether she was hiding something. Perhaps she'd been ravished too, and was afraid to talk about it.
I got worried, but I must admit I also got wet. I still had all of the security footage of Georgia's ravishment, and I regularly watched it as I pleasured myself. I hoped that Ashanti was safe. I really did. But if she had been ravished I hoped I'd be able to watch her footage too.
So, like I'd done after Georgia got ravished, I waited for a quiet moment, then began to peruse the previous night's security tapes.
--
The footage started out normally. Ashanti locked the front door, then the employee door. She checked the security system, which apparently told her that everything was fine, before sitting down at the desk facing mine to check the balance and the inventory.
I wondered at first if she had gotten sick after all. If she coughed or sniffed, then maybe her immune system finally had picked a fight with something.
In the video, though, I saw a flash of green on my own screen. That meant someone had unlocked the employee door.
Now I knew that only my employees should have keys to that door. Perhaps my first assumption should have been that one of the other girls was coming by to find a forgotten wallet or lipstick. But I could feel my heart rate creeping up. Perhaps the man who had ravished Georgia had stolen a key somehow. Perhaps I was about to see him come back and ravish Ashanti too. I was afraid, I really was. But I was excited too.
The man emerged from the employees-only section, and my heart skipped a beat. He was just as I remembered him - tall and blond, with a wiry build and a gleam in his eye. He was even wearing the same nondescript shirt and pants that he'd worn the night he'd ravished Georgia. He'd managed to emerge at a time when Ashanti was facing away, and he silently approached, watching her work.
He didn't seem to be in any kind of hurry. My heart was racing, and I could feel myself getting wet at the thought of what I knew was coming, but he seemed content to admire her from behind, staring at her shoulders and her wavy hair.
I must admit, I could understand his appreciation. I could see Ashanti from three camera angles, and if he hadn't appeared I could easily have kept watching. There was a beautiful intensity to her expression whenever she was working hard on something, as she was on the balance. Her wavy hair haloed her dark yet luminous skin and her soft lips. Her petite breasts were almost impossibly perky, and I wondered how much of them I'd get to see.
Ashanti was the first to move. She powered down the computer and stood up, her back still facing the man. He tensed slightly, preparing for her to see him, but the gleam in his eye never faded.
Ashanti turned to gather her things and saw the man standing silently. She screamed and backed up towards the corner as the man advanced. Then, looking desperately around her, she picked up a stapler and held it out like a weapon.
"Stay back!" she cried.
He held his hands up. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said.
She shook the stapler. Seemingly unconcerned with getting stapled, he took another step toward her.
"I know what you did to Georgia," she accused.
"I didn't hurt her either," the man said. "I just gave her what she'd been missing. I don't think you're missing the same thing as her, though."
Ashanti hesitated, her brow furrowed. "I'll fight you," she declared, trying to make herself sound determined.
"If you need to," he replied. "I still won't hurt you. But I think all you're missing is kisses."
Like Georgia, Ashanti hesitated again, trying to figure out whether anything he said was true. He hadn't physically hurt Georgia, and he'd certainly given her the orgasm she'd been missing, but he also hadn't listened to her objections when he'd filled her womb up with cum.
I watched Ashanti's expression harden. "I don't need any kisses," she declared.
He nodded slowly. "Let's see," he said, and rushed at her.
She screamed again, for all the good it would do when every other store in the center was closed. She swung the stapler at him, and he caught her wrist. The impromptu weapon fell to the ground as he pushed her back against the wall, her wrists pinned. He held her carefully, preventing her from squeezing away without constricting her. She squirmed helplessly, unable to shake him off.
He kissed her neck first. She gasped, unable to move away no matter how she twisted. I gasped, too. I knew that I should stop watching, of course. I'd already seen this man ravish one of my employees, and he was clearly about to ravish another. But I'd spent the past two months fantasizing about this scenario, and even knowing that it was wrong for me to watch wasn't about to stop me.
I glanced up. Ashanti had been scheduled to close with me, and it was a quiet day, so the store was empty. So I turned out the lights, and locked the front door, then sat back down and lifted up my skirt. As my fingers began to trace a path along my lips, I resumed watching.
Ashanti gasped as the man moved up, kissing a path along her neck and along her chin.
"Stop!" she cried. I could hear so much in her voice - her heart racing, her body growing excited in spite of her, her mind struggling to keep control of itself.
He didn't say anything in response. He must have been able to feel her pulse against his lips, feel her body growing excited as he moved to her ear. She squirmed, trying to squeeze out of his grasp, but only succeeded in making her heart beat even faster.
He began to move down, back along her neck and toward her chest. He let go of one wrist and reached for the top button of her shirt.
"No!" she cried again, trying in vain to push his hand away.
"Would you rather take it off yourself?" he asked, punctuating the question with a kiss on her cheek that she belatedly tried to shake off.
"I'm not going to do anything for you!" she declared.
"It's your choice," he replied, and tried to unfasten the button.
Ashanti squealed and struggled, pushing against his hands and trying to squirm away from his grasp. With the button moving too much for him to unfasten it, he shrugged, then grabbed both sides of the shirt and pulled. The buttons popped free, falling to the ground or flying across the sales floor, and the man pulled the shirt open to reveal Ashanti's beautiful toned stomach and the still-concealed curves of her breasts.
One of Ashanti's buttons had landed on my desk, I noticed. I picked it up with my left hand, sliding it back and forth between my fingers and imagining that I could still feel her body heat on it. I knew it was only my imagination, but as I watched the man spread Ashanti's shirt and admire her front, my imagination felt quite powerful indeed.
The man leaned in and kissed Ashanti just below her collarbone. She gasped, and I couldn't tell if she was shocked at his audacity or surprised at her own arousal. Certainly, as she fruitlessly twisted her wrists in his grasp, she seemed like she was trying to escape more than just his touch.
Of course his touch showed no signs of retreat. His lips moved down, kissing a path through her occupied territories, from her neck to the peaceful valley of her cleavage.
I couldn't stop watching her face as he moved. "No!" she cried out, with his first kiss and with every few kisses that followed. But I could see her cheeks growing flushed, and hear her breathing grow slowly heavier. I could see her struggles falter, as she tried to quiet her body's growing excitement as much as she tried to push herself free.
Another advantage of watching her face was that I saw every expression that crossed her face when the man opened the front clasp of her bra with his teeth. There was a moment of confusion, her delicate brow furrowing, followed by a second of shock as her bra fell to the sides and exposed her gorgeous breasts. Finally, outrage set in, and she squealed with renewed vigor and tried desperately to shake free of his grasp.
"These poor girls have been neglected," the man said, before kissing Ashanti's left breast along the inner curve.
"No!" she cried. "Stop!"
