CHAPTER 7
THE ONE WHERE OUR GIRL GETS MALLED
As soon as Tiffany left the shoe store, White fell in right beside her.
"I see you got the shoes," he noted with approval. "Nice job. Now let me smell
your breath."
Tiffany was too dazed and befuddled with all the demands and orders that she
didn't even pause to wonder about the strange request. She opened her mouth and
exhaled.
"Ah yes, the smell of cum in a young girl's mouth," White said quietly. "Nothing
like it. Better than napalm in the morning."
Tiffany had no idea what her principal was talking about. She just wanted to get
this horrible trip to the mall over with.
The other men joined them. "We found some nice clothes over at the Gap," said Joe
Black as the four walked along.
"Lead on," said White, and soon Tiffany found herself walking into the Gap, this
time with the Daniels school janitor, a man she normally would not even
acknowledge, but who now controlled her as surely as if she were a marionette and
he the puppeteer.
"There's a pile of clothes I gathered up in the far right rear corner," Black
whispered to her. "There's six items. Take the black skirt off the top, try it on
in the dressing room, and wear it out. Get the other clothes and find the clerk
named Ralph. Make him your offer." Black turned and walked back out of the store;
he knew that even in the '90s you just didn't see a black man and a pretty white
girl chumming around together in a suburban mall at night.
Tiffany found the pile right where Joe had assembled them, took them into a
dressing room and stripped it off her jeans. She pulled out the black skirt and
was puzzled - surely it was way too small! Her teenaged hips were not wide, but
they were certainly voluptuous and full. No way she would fit into this!~
She pulled the skirt up and found it was made of Spandex, and stretched to fit.
She tugged it over her thighs, up to her waist. Jeez, this sucker was tight! But
finally it was in place.
The black Spandex skirt was a micro-mini. When Tiffany looked in the dressing
room mirror, she couldn't believe her eyes. It clung to her like a large black
rubber band. That's practically what it was, anyway. It came down to just two
inches below her crotch, and the bottom moons of the cheeks of her ass were half
an inch away from being plainly visible.
Still, she knew what she had to do. She pulled the black high-heeled pumps back
on, gathered up her old jeans and the other new clothes and went off to find
Ralph.
"Just get through this, just get through this," she kept telling herself.
Every person in the Gap stopped what they were doing and stared at the stunning
teenager as she strolled through the store. Inside her white blouse, her
unfettered breasts bounced freely, showing off the hint of darkness around each
nipple. The micro-mini clung to her ass and crotch as it if was spray-painted on.
Her long bare legs were tanned and magnificent. And the high heels made her walk
with a hooker's strut, rolling her hips and pelvis. (What no observer could see
were the ben-wa balls turning and churning inside Tiffany's pussy, ratcheting up
her awareness of her own sexuality with every step). She looked like she was
auditioning for a Penthouse video.
"Yo, babe, check it out. Nice walk!" called a black teenager. Tiffany ignored
him. When she approached the check-out counter, she spied the clerk named Ralph.
This one, at least, was someone closer to her own age, maybe about 18, and not
bad-looking. He wore khakis and a polo shirt, and was decent enough looking that
under other circumstances, Tiffany might have even talked to him.
"Hi," she said. "I need to talk to you privately for a minute."
"Sure thing, ma'am" said the boy. Tiffany's stomach fluttered a bit. He had a
sexy voice, and kind eyes, and she was horny, and she knew what she was going to
do to this boy in just a few minutes, and that thought, somehow, made her
hornier. What had been sick and disgusting back with the shoe store clerk was now
seeming not so terrible. If only she could get off too! But that would take more
time, and more explaining, and she couldn't imagine what she would tell the boy
about the metal balls inside her.
"I want to get that stack of clothes I left up on the counter," she told Ralph
once they were in a corner, "but I, uh, my purse was stolen." She didn't know why
she lied, she just wanted to think of some way to save face. "So maybe I could do
something real nice for you in exchange for the clothes."
Ralph looked the sweet high school student up and down. He knew he would get
fired if he was caught, and he wasn't sure what she had in mind, but he had to
find out.
"There's an employee men's room in the back," he said. "Follow me." He marched
through a curtain and Tiffany followed him into the men's room, where he turned
and locked the door from the inside.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ralph asked.
"No, but I have to," Tiffany answered honestly.
"You don't have to do anything," Ralph said. "If you want to trade clothes for
sex, I won't say no, but wouldn't it be nicer if we went somewhere and made love
properly? Then you could come back and I'd give you some clothes. I mean, this is
kinda tacky," he concluded, gesturing at the squalidness of the men's room.
"I know," said Tiffany. Her mind was reeling. This boy was actually very nice. He
said things like "make love" where all the other men just talked about sucking
their cocks. He was good-looking, and he smelled nice. In another world, she
would have dated him, maybe, gone to a movie, maybe gone parking down by the lake
and made out. But that was not Tiffany's world right now. She knew Old Joe and
the others would be waiting outside, waiting to smell her breath and degrade and
debase her further. She steeled herself, reached out a hand and unzipped Ralph's
khakis.
"I'd love to chat," she said, trying to sound nice, "but right now I just have to
give you a blow job."
Ralph had tried to do the right thing, but he was, after all, a teenage boy, with
a lovely girl squatting down and unzipping his fly and pulling his dick out with
her tender fingers. He sprang to life, hard as a steel bar, and knew he wasn't
going to be offering this little slut any more alternatives.
Tiffany leaned forward and placed her lips around the head of Ralph's prick.
"Ohmigod!" the boy moaned softly. "You are so sexy!"
Pleased at the compliment, Tiffany reached a hand into his open fly and began to
fondle his balls. Although the ben-wa balls were stationary, her pussy was
suddenly leaking a trickle of juice than ran down her thigh. Her clit was
throbbing, and she thought about reaching down with her other hand, pulling her
panties aside and masturbating while she sucked the teenaged boy. But she forced
herself to focus. Even though this was much nicer than her previous blow jobs,
the goal was to get the evening over with.
The blonde cheerleader pulled her mouth off the engorged dick, then stuck her
tongue out and swirled it over and over the head. Ralph moaned and leaned back
against the bathroom wall. Tiffany leaned forward, her gorgeous red lips open
wide, and ran her mouth all the way down onto his cock as far as she could
manage. His kinky pubic hairs tickled her nose. She pulled back, then started
bobbing her head up and down, faster and and faster. Her hand seemed to be on
automatic pilot, rolling his testicles around in his scrotum. She could feel them
start to inch upward and his scrotum tighten as his orgasm approached.
"Oh yes, ohhhhh yes," the boy moaned. Tiffany pussy spasmed slightly. She was so
damned turned on. She had never been this horny in her young life. She reached
down with her free hand without even thinking, pulled aside her panties and
started rubbing her exposed pink clit with two fingers.
Suddenly, Ralph's cock exploded into her mouth, pulsing out wave after wave of
hot boy semen. She started swallowing dutifully, and kept working her clit,
faster and faster, approaching her own climax.
Sated, Ralph pulled his cock from the girl's hot mouth with a "pop" as the
suction of her lips was broken. The blowjob was over, but she still hadn't cum!
Without the cock in her mouth, she was suddenly very aware of who she was and
what she was doing: squatting on a men's room floor masturbating furiously in
front of a total stranger! My God, she thought, what was happening to her. She
pulled her hand away from her sopping wet crotch, and the spell was completely
broken. She had once again come so close to an orgasm, only to fall short.
Ralph was zipping up his pants. There was nothing for Tiffany to do but stand up
and smile, weakly.
"Thank you, thank you thank you," blabbed the lucky Gap clerk. Boy, would he have
some story to tell his friends! He wished he had a Polaroid camera to take a
picture of this vision of loveliness, dressed like a total whore, standing in
front of him with a tiny dribble of his semen at the the corner of her mouth.
"You're welcome," was all Tiffany could manage as her well-bred manners
automatically took over.
"Can I have your phone number?" Ralph asked. "I could call you..."
Tiffany thought it was wonderful that he was still acting as if they had met in
the food court after a basketball game, but she was in enough trouble and wasn't
about to give her number to a boy who thought she gave out blow jobs all the
time. She declined, scooped up the clothes, stuffed them in a large Gap bag that
had been left in the restroom and beat it out of there without even saying
goodbye.
Ralph stood forlornly and watched her go.
Click click click went Tiffany's heels as she walked quickly along the tile floor
of the mall. Swish swish went the round globes of her ass under the tight black
mini, back and forth, mesmerizing every male in the mall. She saw Old Joe coming
toward her. He smiled when he saw the Gap bag in her hand.
"Well done, little missy. By the way, in case you didn't have time to have a
proper conversation with young Ralph, he's on the baketball team of the local
high school. I believe they're our opponent for homecoming." He smiled a toothy
grin.
Every time Tiffany thought her ordeal had reached the bottom, it got worse. Now
she would have to go out on the court Friday night in her cheerleader uniform and
Ralph would be telling all his teammates about how that blonde cheerleader had
sucked him off a few nights ago in the mall. Her face burned with shame.
Old Joe told her to walk on ahead until she met Tom Green, who would direct her
to her next store. That store turned out to be The Rave, and this time Green
walked right in with her. Tiffany had never been in this kind of store, which
sold hippie clothes, punk garb, Goth stuff, some surfer garb. Heavy metal played
loudly on the stereo, and black light posters of skulls, bare-breasted witches
and cartoon dogs fucking hung on the walls. A glass case along one wall contained
bongs, buttons with sayings like "Cure Virginity," temporary Harley tattoos. It
wasn't really a rough place, it was just for suburban wannabes, kids who didn't
have the guts to get a real tattoo but would get one that would come off in a
week.
It was still enough to scare Tiffany, who was more used to shopping at stores
like the Gap with daddy's American Express.
"In here, no one will think it's weird if we're together," Green was saying as he
put his arm around her shoulder. "You're my girlfriend, if anyone even cares to
ask. We'll pick out some clothes, and then I'll let you arrange payment." He
chuckled.
Green led her to a stack of halter tops. He picked one that said "Porn Star"
across the front in glitter letters. Another said "Stop Looking at My Tits!" One
had no words, but was white and so sheer it was almost transparent. She might as
well wrap Saran Wrap around her tits, Tiffany thought. Green put them all in a
pile for "purchase," then found what he was looking for and said "A ha!"
The halter was black, like her shoes and her skirt, and across the front, in
large silver script, it read: "JUST DO ME." Underneath was a Nike swoosh.. It
probably broke all kinds of counterfeiting laws, but The Rave staff didn't care
much about such niceties.
"This is the one I want you to wear the rest of the night," Green told the
frightened girl.
"Do they have it in a bigger size?" she asked. "I think that one will be too
small."
"Nonsense," said Green. "Here, let's try it on."
"You mean in the dressing room?"
"No, I mean right here, my little video star." Green turned to the man behind the
counter. "Hey, dude, you mind if my girlfriend here tries on a halter top without
using a dressing room?" he said in a voice loud enough for everyone in the store
to hear.
The guy behind the counter was large and hefty, a beefy guy who looked like a
biker even though he wasn't. He had a handlebar moustache and long black hair
tied back in a ponytail, and the sleeves of his black T-shirt were cut off,
showing off his muscles. His right bicep bore the tattoo "Pretty Fucking
Dangerous" under a skull smoking a cigarette.
"Knock yourself out, man," he said with a big smile.
"Please don't make do this," Tiffany begged. She tried to make herself look sweet
and vulnerable and pitiful to Mr. Green.
"I'll make you a deal," he said. "If you try on the halter right here where
you're standing, I'll let you off the hook with blowing Mr. Dangerous over
there. I'm a little worried about him. He looks like the kind of guy who might
really hurt you, might want to slap you around a little if he has you alone in
back. He might even have a knife and want to cut you a little." Green was laying
it on thick, terrifying the already frightened girl, whose trembling had started
again.
Tiffany was about to pee on the floor she was so scared. Mr. Green was right, the
biker behind the counter did look very mean indeed. If Green left her alone in
the store and she had to offer him a blow job, it might be a much uglier
experience than dorky Jim in the shoe store or sweet Ralph at the Gap.
"You mean I have to be p-p-partially naked right here in the store?" she
stammered.
"Yup, and you'd better get moving, little video star, or I'll walk over there to
Mr. Dangerous and tell him what he's about to get in five minutes. Once he
focuses on getting his dick in your mouth, there won't be anything either one of
us can do." Green was playing the teen like a violin.
Tiffany felt sick, but knew she had no choice. She glanced around nervously and
started to move behind a display.
Green stopped her. "Right there where you're standing," he ordered. "If you get
to skip a blow job, the other guys are gonna be pissed and want to know why, and
I need to be able to tell them it was a fair trade- off."
Actually, Tiffany didn't realize that her three other tormentors were standing
right outside the entrance, blocking the door, which served two purposes. First,
it prevented mall security from wandering in unannounced. Second, Brown had the
video camera out and was getting the whole thing on tape to add to the Tiffany
Blackmail Video. The men had already scoped out The Rant and figured out this
variation in their plan.
"Better get busy with those buttons," Green told her. "And smile, baby. Don't
think of it as showing off those pretty tits of yours. Think of it as avoiding a
nasty encounter with Mr. Dangerous back there."
Tiffany swallowed hard. The room seemed to be wavering again, but this time there
were no drugs in her system. She knew what she had to do, and began unbuttoning
her white blouse. When all the buttons were undone, she reached out to the halter
top Green was holding. The teacher stepped back out of her reach.
"No, first the shirt comes all the way off. Lay it on the floor, and then ask me
politely for the top."
Tiffany cursed him under her breath, then slid the blouse over her shoulder and
down her arms. It fell to the floor, and the 16-year-old cheerleader was standing
naked from the waist up in the middle of the store.
She realized the store was utterly quiet. Two teenage girls who had been looking
through the clothes and stopped and were staring at her. The ugly man behind the
counter was ogling her magnificent tits too, and from somewhere in the back, two
teenaged boys had appeared and started pointing and nudging each other. The poor
girl wanted to die.
Tiffany instinctively crossed her arms over her chest.
"Hands at your sides, Tiffany. Get 'em there this second, or I'll ask some of
these guys to come over and hold them there."
With that, the tattooed man bounded out from behind the counter and was at
Tiffany's side even before she could obey. "You need some help here, boss?" he
asked. "Little lady causing you problems?"
"I don''t know," Green answered. "Are you causing me problems, Tiffany? Do we
need this gentleman to assist us?" The burly man towered over Tiffany and stared
straight at her cleavage.
"No, sir," Tiffany said, and slowly lowered her arms to her sides. Her 36-inch
breasts, capped with the beautiful pink nipples, were on display for all the
world to see.
"Oh, man!" said one of the teen boys in a voice louder than he intended. "Check
out that rack! Jesus Christ!"
"Please, sir, may I have the top?" Tiffany said, her voice steely. It was taking
all her will power not to run screaming from the store.
"Let's ask our salesperson," Green said, taunting the girl. "Do you think she'll
look good in this?" He held up the black "JUST DO ME" halter.
"I don't know, man," said the man, playing along with the game. He wasn't sure
what kind of weird shit these people were into, but he was willing to see where
it went. "It's kind of small, and those tits of hers are awfully big."
"How big are they, Tiffany?" Green asked.
"Please, please, please, sir," the schoolgirl begged. "Can I just have the top?"
"Not until we find out how big your tits are," Green replied. "What's your bra
size, honey? We need to know to make sure we get this fitting right."
"36 C, goddamn it!" Tiffany spat.
"Yup, they look about that size," said Mr. Green. "Here, you can have the top,
but since this gentleman works here, I think maybe he ought to help you into it.
And that's the only condition you can have the top."
Tiffany started to shiver. It was cold in the store, and her nipples were getting
hard. The metalhead music blared, and the teen boys were now giggling like Beavis
and Butthead. The two girls had crept closer as well, and the customers formed a
ring around Tiffany, staring and pointing. She knew she had to do whatever Green
said or he would just keep her standing here with everyone staring at her naked
breasts.
"OK," Tiffany said softly.
"OK what?" Mr. Green asked.
"OK, he can help me try it on."
"Ask him," Green ordered.
"Would you please help me try this halter top on?" she said to the ugly biker.
"Oh, one more thing, Tiffany," Green said nonchalantly. "To make sure we get the
best fit, I want you to take a real breath and hold it till I tell you to let it
out."
Tiffany knew what the sadistic teacher was doing, but had no choice. She inhaled
a lungful of air, which caused her to stomach to flatten in and her chest to
stick out even more. It looked as if she was deliberately flaunting her fantastic
bare tits at the customers in the store.
Mr Dangerous grinned, and Mr. Green handed him the JUST DO ME top.
At the entrance to The Rave, Roger White was capturing the whole scene on video.
The biker held the tiny top in his meaty paw and eyeballed the scared, half-naked
cheerleader standing in the middle of his store. He slowly untied the two sets of
strings on the back, taking his time. The four other teenagers in the store just
stared. It felt as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the next
move in the strange little drama of dominance and submission.
Mr. Dangerous laid the halter down over the tops of Tiffany's beautifully jutting
breasts, then stepped behind her and pulled the two strings that tied around the
back of her neck. Although her breasts were now partially covered, the pink
nipples, stiff with cold and fear, still poked out for all to see. She wanted
more than anything in the world to cover them, but knew she had to keep her hands
obediently at her sides, or else the whole process would be dragged out even
longer.
The clerk took hold of the bottom of the halter and pulled it gently down over
her breasts, brushing the hairy backs of his hands over her nibbles as he covered
them. The top came down a little below her nipples, but still left sweet-looking
half-moons of teenaged flesh hanging out below.
"Doesn't look like it's gonna cover 'em up, boss," he said to Green. "These
titties are just too big." Tiffany was mortified.
"Let's keep trying, maybe we can make it work," Green replied. Dangerous pulled
the second set of strings behind Tiffany's bare back and tied them there.
"OK, you can exhale, Tiffany," said Green. She did, but even as her body regained
its usual shape, it was apparent to all in the store that the halter top just
barely covered her. In addition to the breastmeat that hung out the bottom, she
was flashing as much cleavage as if she was wearing a Wonderbra, and only a
Wonderbra. The small amount of black fabric that covered the middles of her
breasts and the still-erect nipples was stretched extremely tight, and the logo
JUST DO ME was slightly distorted, but still readable.
"What do you think?" Green asked the burly clerk.
"Well, I liked her better with her tits hanging out," he answered honestly, and
the teen boys watching nodded furiously in agreement, still speechless. "But it
does make her look pretty fuckin' hot, I gotta say that."
"Tiffany, do you think you look pretty fuckin' hot?" Green asked.
The tormented teenager didn't know what she was supposed to answer. She decided
the best course was to quickly agree with everything, just to get the ordeal over
with. "Yes sir," she whimpered meekly.
"I'm worried that when you leave the store and start bouncing through the mall,
your tits are gonna pop right out of that top," Green told her. "So hold your
arms very firmly against your sides." Tiffany did so, and the effect was to push
her bosoms out even more, accentuating the cleavage.
"Very good," Green said. "And since you have your arms holding the sides of your
new halter in place, you won't be needing this." And he deftly reached around and
untied the strings stretched across her back. Tiffany instantly knew that she had
to keep her arms locked at her sides, that any release in the pressure on the
sides of the halter would probably cause it to pop right off her chest, so tight
was the fit.
"Tell you what," Green said to the tattooed clerk. "How about giving us the
halter in exchange for the little show we put on?" There was no disagreement,
only a big grin and a nod.
"So, let's go, sweetie," Green said, and guided Tiffany by the elbow toward the
entrance, where she saw her principal clicking off the video camera that had
captured the entire humiliating display.
As the young girl walked out of the store and into the mall, she realized how
vulnerable she was. The high heels made her walk unsteady. The ben-wa balls began
slooshing around again inside her wet teenaged pussy, sending wonderful erotic
messages throughout her confused body. She had to keep her arms locked down at
her sides as she walked. From behind, she was naked from the neck to her ankles,
except for the micro- mini skirt that clung tightly to her hips. From the front,
she had a little more covering, but was advertising herself as the biggest slut
in the world with the JUST DO ME logo on her shirt. It was all she could do to
keep walking, and yet she knew that was her only hope of eventually getting out
of the mall.
"One final touch, bitch-baby, and then we're done here and ready to go home,"
White told her. As he pulled her into a small alcove of pay phones that was
fortunately empty. He reached into a Spenser's Gifts bag and pulled out a plastic
tiara, the kind little girls would wear for dress- up. It was silver and crusted
with cheap rhinestones, and the plastic had been molded in front to spell out the
word "PRINCESS."
"Since you think you're such a princess," White told the girl, "We thought we
should make it official." He put the tiara on Tiffany's head, adjusted it, and
tucked its clips into her hair. Somehow the tiara was the worst touch of all to
the girl. The slutty clothing was at least a coherent ensemble, but the tiara was
like a sick joke, and just called even more attention to her, if that was
possible.
"You can take a stroll up the length of the mall and back again, by yourself,"
White told her, "and then we'll take you back to school." He pulled out the video
camera. "And make it look like you're enjoying yourself. We're not quite done
with our evening yet; there's more to come when we get back to school. If you put
on a good show here at the mall, maybe we'll go a little easy on you when we get
back. But if you look like you're miserable, we'll just have to think of some
more things to do. Think we can come up with any, fellows?" he asked the three
other perverted men in the group.
"Oh, I got a little mental list," whispered Joe Black. " A looooong mental list."
"Get going, babe," White said, and slapped Tiffany hard on her Spandex-covered
ass. She took a few wobbly steps out into the mall.
Once she got going, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. At least it wasn't a
rainy Saturday afternoon, she told herself, when the mall would have been packed.
Or at least it was the Beverly Mall at home, where she couldn't avoid running
into friends and classmates. As she walked, the balls in her pussy worked their
magic, turning and churning, upping her lust level with every step. She tuned out
her surroundings and barely saw the middle aged men who stopped in their tracks
to stare, the boys from The Rave who had hooked up with some friends and were
trailing her every step a few yards back, the disapproving stares of the women
who saw only a cheap slut strutting around, offering her nubile body to every
man. White got the whole thing on video, even the cutaways to the onlookers.
Finally she was finished with her long walk. The whole trip to the mall had only
taken an hour, but it seemed like an eternity to the poor girl. She wondered how
much more abuse she could take from these men, and whether it would get worse.
She knew that so far, none of them had fucked her, and she'd only sucked off two
of them, and she somehow knew, even though she wouldn't let herself dwell on it,
that such a status quo could not possibly last much longer.
Nor would it. The men had carefully timed the evening's events, and knew that if
they left the mall now, and drove quickly back to Beverly, they'd have about half
an hour with Tiffany before she was due home. All four had raging hard-ons based
on what they had done to the school's best-looking cheerleader, and based, as
well, on what they had in store for her when they got back to school.
(Dr. Wu would like to pay homage to James Dawson, whose classic story
"Cheerleader's Torment" provided some of the inspiration for this chapter.)
* * *
