Falsely Accused

The mall appeared deserted as I hurried toward my car, heels click-clicking loudly against the tiles. It was nearly closing time, and many of the shops had already pulled their grated doors halfway down. The steady hum of vacuum cleaners drowned out the insistent music that blared from the loudspeakers. I had nearly reached the exit, when a pair of shoes in a window caught my eye. The door to the shop was still open, the bored-looking clerk sitting behind the register, so I slipped in.

"I'd like to try these in an eight and a half, please." I said, handing a high-heeled shoe to the skinny boy behind the counter. He looked up from a graphic novel and stuffed it hurriedly under the register, but not before I'd glimpsed a nude, large-breasted woman who appeared to be screaming. My lips tightened in disgust. The little freak – I doubted that he would even know what to do with a real woman.

While he scurried back to the stockroom I wandered about the shop, glancing at the array of shoes, cheap jewelry, brightly colored scarves, and leather handbags. I paused before a mirror to smooth my hair. With one finger, I carefully wiped a few smudges of mascara from the corner of my eye. At last he returned and I seated myself comfortably in a low chair. He knelt at my feet, and I smiled as a naughty vision struck me: me, dressed all in black leather, and him, kneeling before me, kissing the toe of my thigh-high boot. As if.

I slipped off my pumps and reached for the shoe he held, but he pulled it back. "Allow me," he said. Smiling, I extended my foot and allowed him to slip the shoe onto it, ala Cinderella. As he buckled the straps securely around my ankle, I felt his thumb slowly and deliberately graze the back of my bare calf, stroking softly upward. Why, that little pervert! I was mildly outraged that he thought he could take such liberties with me – but also a little amused. Looking at him, I would guess that he was still a virgin. "Now, the other one." He reached for my right foot. On a whim, I parted my knees slightly, pointing my toes and offering him my foot. As expected, his eyes were drawn like a magnet to the dark cleft under my short skirt, and I knew when I saw those eyes widen that he had glimpsed the wisp of white silk and lace hidden there. I leaned forward to watch him buckling on the shoe and saw his eyes snap to the ample cleavage revealed by my low-cut blouse. I smiled – a cruel, triumphant smile – as I saw the bulge straining against his trousers. I stood and sashayed over to the mirror, hips swaying subtly, and admired the way the high-heeled shoes accentuated the taut curves of my long legs.

"I'll take them." I decided. Still watching the gawky clerk from the corner of my eye, I bent down to unbuckle the shoes myself, knowing that my skirt would ride up slightly, the fabric pulled tight across my ass. And of course, he couldn't take his eyes off me. "On second thought, I think I'll wear them out." I reconsidered, straightening. He blinked, his reverie shattered, when I handed him my old shoes and a credit card.

"Will there be… umm… anything else?" he stammered as he scuttled back to the register, clearly eager to please.

"No, thank you." I replied frostily, taking the bag from his trembling fingers. I turned to go, but as I stepped through the doorway, I was startled by the loud blare of a siren and a sudden flashing light.

"Pardon me, Ma'am, but I'm going to need to look inside your bags," a uniformed security guard said. Where had he come from? I had not seen him when I entered the store, and I'd only been inside for a few minutes. Surely I'd have remembered him; he was drop-dead gorgeous - not at all the typical rent-a-cop.

"Of course," I replied, blushing furiously, as I handed him my purchases. "There must be some mistake."

He gave my purchases only the most cursory of inspections, then turned his attentions to my purse. Almost at once, he pulled out a pair of cheap rhinestone earrings, still attached to a plastic card. "Do you have a receipt for these, Ma'am?" he asked, his voice decidedly colder now.

Bewildered, I looked at the tawdry trinkets. I'd never seen them before! "I… I don't know how those got there…" I whispered lamely, my mouth suddenly dry. Behind him, I saw the clerk watching avidly, a smirk stamped plainly on his oily features. Of course! The little freak had set me up! He must have slipped them into my purse when I wasn't looking. I tried explaining that to the guard, but he didn't appear to be interested.

"Let's go back to my office, and I'm sure we can clear everything up," he suggested. "Unless you'd rather I called the police right now?"

"No…" I whispered. This was too embarrassing! The fewer people involved, the better. Certain that we could resolve the whole mess, if only he would allow me to explain what had happened, I allowed him to take my arm and guide me through an unmarked door, down a narrow hallway, to a small room hidden deep within the mall. A single bare bulb lit the concrete-walled room, directly above a stained table and several folding chairs. In the corner, a small television sat on a cheap desk, connected to a thick bank of cables. I sank into one of the chairs and felt the cold metal of the seat against my thighs.

"Now then… Bradley…" The guard addressed the clerk, who had followed us. "This lady suggests that you put those earrings in her purse?" The clerk – Bradley - didn't say a word. With a sigh, the guard turned to the TV on his desk. "Well, I'm sure the security footage will help clear this up." I drew a deep breath of relief. Of course! The security cameras must have caught the whole thing – once the guard saw for himself, this would all be over. My relief was short-lived, however, as the guard selected the feed from the shoe store and rewound it to the moment that I'd entered the store. My cheeks blazed with embarrassment as I saw myself on film, teasing the clerk. Had I really been that obvious? I slumped lower in my chair, wishing that I could sink right through the floor. Still, I felt somewhat vindicated when I saw, on screen, Bradley dropping something into my purse while I bent to tighten the ankle strap on one of the shoes. Finally!

I turned to the guard, expecting him to apologize for detaining me, but he wasn't looking at me. He was eyeing the clerk, who stood by the closed door. "Well, Bradley?" he prompted. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

The boy swallowed nervously a few times, before opening his mouth. "Well…" he began, licking his lips. "Well… you saw her! Shoving her tits in my face, showing me her snatch! She was just asking for trouble! I couldn't let her get away with that!" he cried defensively.

The guard smiled slowly. "Of course not," he agreed. "You did the right thing."

Startled, I glanced from one to the other, then leaped to my feet and reached for the door. The knob was cool and unyielding in my hand. Locked! The first fingers of panic tickled my brain as I suddenly realized that I was alone with these two freaks. "Let me go!" I ordered, gathering the shreds of my dignity. A leaden chill sank to the pit of my stomach when the men exchanged a chuckle.

"Let you go?" the guard rasped. "I don't think so…"

He pressed one callused hand against my sheer blouse, stroking my breast. Outraged, I slapped him, hard. My palm stung from the effort, and I was gratified to see the clear imprint of my hand, emblazoned in red against his cheek. My triumph was short-lived, however, as he turned suddenly cold eyes on me. He seized me about the waist, and threw me facedown onto the table. I gasped as the hard edge drove the breath from my body. "Brad – get her hands!" he barked. The young clerk grasped my wrists, his grip surprisingly strong, holding me stretched across the table. "Now then…" the guard rasped, "I believe somebody needs a lesson in manners." With that, he hiked up the back of my short skirt, exposing bare buttocks and a lacy thong. Smack! I cried out at the sudden sting of his hand, my eyes filling with tears. Smack! Smack! Smack! I squirmed helplessly against the table, cringing away from the blows, unable to escape them.

Through watery eyes, I saw that Brad had transferred both of my wrists to one hand, while with the other he was lightly stroking himself through his pants. "Pervert!" I thought, but I also saw the beginning of an opportunity. Gathering myself, I twisted suddenly, tearing my hands from his grip and springing toward the door. Oh, crap - I forgot. Locked.

"Jesus, Brad!" the guard cursed. "Can't you keep your hands off your dick for five minutes?" He grabbed me, crushing me against his chest, my arms pinned at my sides. "And as for you…" he growled, bending me over the table again, wrists twisted painfully behind my back, "I can see that you're going to need… a little… more… discipline…" He punctuated each word with another smack across my already burning ass.

"Sorry, Mike." Brad gulped, face pale, his shrinking cock temporarily forgotten.

Finally, the guard – Mike - paused, and I dared to hope that perhaps he was done – but no. Instead, he turned to Brad and ordered him to open the bottom drawer of the desk. From it, Brad withdrew several coils of slender rope, dumping them on the table beside me. Mike pinned my hands to the table above my head, then took one of the ropes and looped it several times about my wrists, binding them tightly together. I struggled futilely against the rope, but was unable to wriggle free. Satisfied, Mike pulled me to my feet, my hands now bound in front of me. He selected a second rope and tossed an end over one of the exposed pipes that crisscrossed the ceiling, then lashed it securely about my bound wrists. Tugging firmly on the other end, he drew me up until I teetered precariously in my high-heeled shoes, weight forward on my toes. My body stretched taut as a bowstring, breasts jutting obscenely forward, as he secured the loose end of the rope to the radiator pipes.

"Now then," he smirked, "Let's see those tits you were so proud of." He thrust one paw into the neckline of my blouse and ripped downward, tearing the thin fabric and sending buttons ricocheting off the walls. I gasped at the sudden violence and tried to twist away from him, but stumbled and fell forward. He laughed as I struggled to regain my footing, the ropes biting sharply into my wrists.

Brad stepped forward eagerly, a large pair of scissors in his hand. I shivered as he slid the cold blades under the straps of my bra, silently commanding myself to remain very, very still, lest I injure myself on the sharp points. With a harsh chuckle, he snipped first my bra straps, then the sides of my thong as well, letting the bits of silk and lace flutter to the floor. A few more tugs, the soft snick of blades closing, and the remains of my blouse joined the ruined undergarments, but when he reached for my skirt, Mike stopped him.

"No, leave that on," he husked. "I like the way it looks, riding up her ass like that, and it's certainly not in the way." As if to prove his point, he slid his hand up my leg, probing intimately between my thighs. I shuddered at his crude touch, fingers rough against tender flesh. Abruptly, he withdrew his hand. "Look at that, Brad!" he laughed, extending his glistening fingers. "I think the little cunt is actually enjoying this!" Horrified, I realized that I was indeed wet down there, despite my fear and anger. Cheeks blazing from humiliation, I closed my eyes tightly, as if doing so could make this whole nightmare disappear. But of course, it couldn't.

My eyes snapped open when I felt a fingertip tracing the curve of my breast. Brad again, transfixed as if hypnotized by the twin mounds of flesh. He flicked first one small, pink nipple and then the other, seeming fascinated at the way they stiffened under his touch. I clenched my jaw in fury, willing my body to remain still, to not respond, but was helpless to prevent the puckering of those tiny nubs. "I think you're right." Brad leered, pinching and twisting my nipples cruelly.

"Stop it! Let me go!" I screamed. "Somebody, help me!"

"Scream all you like," Mike suggested. "There's no one to hear you – the mall is closed. But even if someone was out there, these walls are solid concrete. No one could hear you anyway." He laughed as I continued screaming for a few more minutes, before acknowledging the futility of the gesture. "That's better," he said. "Now, show us what a good girl you can be, and maybe this will go easier on you." He smiled at me – a cold, predatory smile that was reflected in the gleam of his ice-blue eyes, silently promising that it would

not

go easily for me at all.

"Ok, Brad – that's enough for now," Mike said, and I felt almost grateful when Brad obediently released my nipples and backed away. Almost. With a rattle of keys, the two men departed, leaving the door open. Frantic at the promise of freedom - so tantalizingly close - I twisted and struggled against the ropes, to no avail. Finally I slumped, exhausted, my weight dragging painfully against chafed wrists. The sweat of my earlier exertions cooled rapidly, leaving me chilled and shivering as the minutes stretched interminably.

At last, I heard footsteps in the hallway. I screamed for help, daring to hope that it might be some late-night janitor making his rounds, but stopped at the echoes of now-familiar voices. A moment later, Mike strode into the room, a large duffel bag hanging from one hand. Brad followed, carrying a video camera and tripod, which he set up in the corner. A cold knot of despair formed in the pit of my stomach at the sight of the camera. Bad enough to be bound and near-nude in front of these guys, but to have it filmed! The shame was almost unbearable. A moment later, however, the camera was nearly forgotten as Mike spilled the contents of his duffel onto the table with a loud clash and clatter. I gaped in trepidation at the tangle of cuffs, chains, and other devices arrayed on the scratched Formica surface.

"Not so fast, my dear," Mike whispered, turning toward me with a long black scarf in his hands. "There will be plenty of time to explore those later, but for now…" He covered my eyes with the scarf, wrapping it securely around my head several times, until I could see nothing. I whimpered fearfully, ears straining for the slightest sound, as total darkness engulfed me. Yet it was with shock that I felt strong fingers on my breasts, slowly teasing the nipples erect, alternately stroking and pinching. A stronger pinch, first on one side, then the other, caused my knees to buckle. The hands were withdrawn, but the steady pinching remained, growing, if anything, stronger. I realized that some sort of clamps must have been attached to my nipples, a suspicion which was confirmed a moment later, when a brief tug at each, in turn, was followed by the cool links of a chain draped casually across my belly and dangling between my breasts. Someone tugged at the chain, testing it, and I gasped as my nipples were painfully stretched.

Rough fingers fumbled again between my thighs, thrusting rudely into me. Though I knew it was a mistake, I grasped the rope as best I could with both hands to steady myself, then aimed a kick at whoever was in front of me. I was momentarily gratified when my foot connected solidly, and the intrusive fingers were withdrawn with a pained grunt.

"Fuck!" Brad snarled, letting me know that he had been the unlucky recipient of my kick. A moment later, my head snapped back as he slapped me, hard enough to create lightning flashes behind my eyes and leaving me slightly dazed. I fell backward, my full weight now hanging from my bound wrists.

"Ok, that's enough Brad." Mike chuckled. "I can see that we've got a wildcat on our hands – we'll just have to take a few extra precautions with her." Immediately, I began to regret the rash impulse that had led me to fight back. What sort of punishment had I incurred? I found out soon enough, as Mike gripped both my ankles, while Brad buckled thick leather cuffs tightly around each of them. My ankles were then jerked roughly in opposite directions, spreading them uncomfortably wide, and I heard the distinctive clink of hardware as they were attached to… something… holding my legs wide open. A hand stroked slowly up my thigh, fingertips just brushing my exposed sex. I shivered, straining to draw my legs together, but was prevented by the object locked between them.

"That's better," Mike said, withdrawing his hand from under my skirt. "Ok, Brad – she's all yours. I think she owes you one…"

Brad gripped both my breasts in his hands and squeezed. I screamed as the agony in my clamped nipples doubled, then tripled, and I was certain that his fingers would leave bruises. He then released my left breast, clamping his hand between my thighs instead, several fingers thrusting into me. "I want her," he whispered hoarsely. "I want to make this bitch pay!"

"Ok," Mike answered, and a moment later the tension in the rope about my wrists relaxed. I tried to maintain my balance, but teetered precariously on widespread legs. When a rough hand shoved me from behind, I fell forward, barely catching myself on my bound hands as my knees banged painfully against the floor. Strong hands gripped my shoulders, forcing me to kneel on the concrete, ankles splayed behind me and knees wide apart. My wrists were untied – but only long enough to force my hands behind me, where they were again bound together. The rope between my wrists was then tugged downward, arching my body back like a drawn bow and thrusting my breasts forward, then secured to the bar between my ankles. I moaned at the strain on my arms and shoulders, but was helpless to ease it.

"Now… open wide…" Brad sneered, and something firm and hot pressed against my lips. The warm, musty scent of his crotch washed over me, and I nearly gagged as I realized how he meant to punish me. I clenched my jaw as he rubbed the tip of his cock on my nose and mouth, the first sticky drops of fluid smearing across my lips. A hand grasped my hair, jerking my head back, and I felt hot breath in my ear.

"Open your mouth," Mike hissed, tugging again at my hair. "And don't even think of biting… or it will be the last thing you do." Terrified, I reluctantly parted my lips, permitting Brad to slide the tip of his penis between them. "More!" Mike snarled, yanking at my hair. Moaning, I did as he ordered, opening my mouth wide enough for Brad to thrust his entire cock into my mouth – which he did. "Good… Now, suck it!" Mike commanded, releasing my hair at last. I heard his footsteps cross the floor, then the faint click and whir of the camera starting up. Tears of humiliation welled up in my eyes, soaking the blindfold, as Brad continued thrusting into my mouth and throat. His fingers laced through my hair, allowing him to guide my head in time with his thrusts.

The tap of a shoe beside me announced Mike's return, moments before I felt his shirt pressing against my shoulders. He knelt behind me, supporting my weight on his broad chest, and I felt a momentary gratitude as the strain on my back and shoulders eased. Slowly now, his hands circled my body, sliding lazily across my ribs and stroking downward over my hips and belly. His fingertips just grazed the neatly trimmed hair over my sex, an electric touch causing my hips to arch forward, seeking more. Brad's increasingly rapid thrusts receded from my awareness as my focus was drawn lower, concentrated on the rising heat between my thighs. With his thumb, Mike pressed gently on my clit, rubbing now in little circles, while he slid several fingers deep into me. I bucked against his hand, riding it against my will, powerless to prevent the tension coiling deep within me, yearning for release. And then…