Putting A Karen In Her Place

All characters depicted are aged 18+. Feedback welcome. Let me know if it does the trick.

~4100 words, action begins around the halfway mark.

Primary content tags: msub to mdom, fdom to fsub, older female, younger male, "Karen" archetype, rough sex, reluctance, hate fuck

~

Michael set his cash tray in the register and punched into the terminal. His manager on duty, Becky, had been running her mouth since he clocked in a few moments ago.

"I guess what I'm saying is he's not a bad guy, he's just not what I'm looking for right now, you know? I need a man that can take charge."

It had been a few weeks since Michael started working at the dollar store. By now he learned to tune out most of what Becky blathered on about.

Becky was only a few years older, somewhere in her mid-twenties. She wasn't awful or anything, and pretty cute. She had that whole "girl next door" thing going for her - flowing brown hair, nice eyes, slim figure. But this job was tedious enough without having to listen to the specifics of Becky's failed relationships.

Yesterday she went on and on about how what's-his-name had been "too nice." Michael rolled his eyes. He'd heard that excuse before about himself. Well, maybe not those words exactly, but a guy can take a hint.

"Yeah," Michael sighed, still not really listening. "That's crazy, Becky."

Michael never understood what the issue was with being easygoing. Life was complicated enough on its own, why make it worse? Turned out this was a terrible hill to die on. Especially when it ended relationships.

Before Michael could escape Becky's eternal filibuster, she clutched his arm. "Oh, shit," she whispered. "She's back."

Michael looked to the entryway and spotted the threat. His heart sank, and a sickening sourness filled his stomach.

Karen Miller always strutted into the store like she owned the place. That morning was no different. As always, she wore her oversized sunglasses and a look of utter contempt for all life. A store bag was slung under her arm. Unsurprisingly, she was headed directly for Michael and Becky at the register, like a drama-seeking torpedo.

The woman was a walking caricature. She must've been in her early or mid-forties. She even had that "Karen haircut," light brown with blonde highlights, bumped up in the back. Sharp. Lethal. Why anyone would find that attractive was beyond Michael.

For fuck sake, her name WAS Karen. For all he knew, she was Karen patient zero.

"Not again," Michael sighed. He turned when Becky didn't answer, seeing her fumbling to take off the Manager pin on her black work shirt.

"I'm not doing this today," she said. "You're the manager for the next thirty minutes. Have fun." She slapped the pin into his hand.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute-" Michael sputtered.

"It's fine," Becky said, gathering the scan gun and pager. "If you need a minute from her, just tell her you need to check the backroom. Works every time. I'll cover the other register if someone else comes along." She turned back again, smiling. "If it gets really bad, just tell her to fucking blow you. I'm sure that will work out well!"

Before Michael could argue, Becky practically jumped the counter and jogged out of sight to an aisle.

Son of a bitch.

Before he could run himself, Karen set both the bag and what appeared to be a new purse on the counter. Expecting her to speak first, which she usually did, Michael waited. Instead she seemed to glare at him. While he couldn't exactly see her eyes behind the giant sunglasses, he could feel the heat from across the counter, threatening to melt his face.

"Good morning, ma'am. Can I he-?"

"I would certainly hope so," Karen spat, opening the store bag to reveal a four pack of lightbulbs. She pulled a bulb from the box and set it between them. "This is the third time this has happened, it's unacceptable."

Michael eyed the bulb as it rolled slightly on the countertop.

"What seems to be the pr-?"

Karen picked up the bulb. "I'll tell you exactly what the problem is," she shook it. "Hear that?" Michael didn't hear anything. When he shrugged, Karen went on. "Lasted no more than an hour before it blew. What sort of defected crap are you pushing in this shack?"

This sort of thing is precisely what Michael prided himself on avoiding. Unnecessary complication. Maybe if he wasn't a "nice guy" he'd tell this obnoxious woman exactly where she could stick that lightbulb. But he wasn't that guy, and he needed this job.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Please let me call my..." he broke off. The Manager pin was in his hand. Shit.

It was time to bite the bullet and get through this. Michael put on his best, most painful customer service smile. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Oh, you're not sorry yet. But you will be if I don't get my money back," Karen sneered.

Michael's eyelid twitched. "I'm afraid due to store policy-"

Karen slammed her hand on the counter. "No!" she roared. "No, no, absolutely not! You aren't going to pull that store policy horseshit on me again!"

Typically the store would refund the item, but they had been instructed specifically to stop this for "problem customers" who try to take advantage of the store, and Karen was THE problem customer.

Michael's heart raced. He fought to control his breathing. "I would be happy to find you a replacement for your purchase."

Karen scoffed. "Yeah, so they'll blow as soon as I get them home, too? Do I look like a moron to you?"

Yes, MIchael thought.

More than likely, these bulbs were old. Karen probably swapped the new ones for these and is now trying to pass them off as defective. Or something like that.

At any rate, he didn't care. He just wanted her gone. But even if giving her the money back would get rid of her (for now), Michael didn't have access on the register to even do that. Becky could, but it didn't look like she was coming back anytime soon. Michael tried to glance over Karen's shoulder to spot her, maybe flag her down. No luck.

Karen snapped her fingers in his face. "Look. At. Me. I want my money back. Now!"

Michael's jaw grew tighter. There was only one option.

"I'll need to check the backroom. I'll be back in a moment." On stiff legs, he turned and began walking away from her. Obviously, her money was not in the backroom. To his horror, he could hear her stomping after him.

"Absolutely not!" she raged. "I will not be left waiting here!"

As though he were a caveman pursued by a sabertooth tiger, Michael felt a primal instinct kick in to get the hell out of there. He picked up speed, rounded a corner, and spotted the backroom door. Still, Karen pursued, assaulting him with a deluge of incredulous screeching.

The backroom door never looked so inviting. The EMPLOYEES ONLY sign shone brightly in the synthetic white fluorescence of the store, beckoning him to safety. He pushed in.

There never really was any "extra stock" in stores like this, but many people didn't know that. This, of course, made it easy to make it seem like a clerk was diligently searching for what a customer was demanding, when in reality they came back here to check their phone for a few minutes. Then they would return, and let the customer know they definitely didn't have the item.

The backroom here, true to fashion, was a fairly narrow space with mostly empty shelving. A desk with a rolling chair and old computer sat in one corner, and a few boxes in the other. To Michael, in this moment, it was a safe haven.

For about ten seconds.

The door burst open. Karen stepped in slowly, hands on hips, a snake that cornered a mouse. She swept the bangs from her face, closing in on him.

"How dare you," she seethed. "Don't you know who I am?"

Then she said it. The words all retail employees shudder to hear.

"I want to speak to your manager this instant! Your behavior is unacceptable!"

In the back of his mind, Michael felt the uncomfortable humidity of the room and remembered the air conditioning was busted back here. A bead of sweat fell from his nose. He didn't sign up for this. He didn't have to take this. He could walk out right now, and Becky could deal with it.

Then he felt the manager pin. He had clutched it so tightly his knuckles turned white. Somewhere inside, he simply stopped caring. He didn't want to be the guy that took this kind of crap. Not anymore.

He stuck the pin on his shirt. "I'm the manager," he stated.

Karen shifted her weight to the other foot, clicking her teeth. She looked ridiculous, her hands still firmly on her hips, purse hanging from her shoulder. She couldn't be any more than 5'4''. Nothing more than a yapping chihuahua.

"Then I'm going to call corporate and get your ass fired for shit service." She smiled with such acidic evil.

Michael folded his arms. "Go ahead," he said coolly, despite the blood pumping hard through his face.

Her smile faltered. "What?"

Michael picked up a landline from the desk, offered it to her. "Here. Call them. The number is right there." He pointed to a laminated page on the wall with several phone numbers.

Karen stared at the phone, then at Michael.

"Fine!" she snatched it, squinted at the paper, and started dialing. She snuck quick glances at him as she did. Michael stood firmly, watching her, waiting.

"What's your problem?" she snapped at last.

Michael stuck out his chest, took a step closer. "What's YOUR problem?"

Were these his words? Coming from his mouth? It felt like a dream, like he was someone else.

This really caught her off guard. Karen let the phone fall slightly from her ear, watching him from behind those stupid sunglasses. Michael could hear the ringing, then a voice answered. She shook her head, pressed the phone back to her ear.

"Yes, this is-" she stopped. Then Michael could hear the voice continue. Karen pressed a button, listened, cursed, pressed several more buttons, listened again. "Why do these fucking hotlines never have a real person on the other end? I don't have time for this!"

Michael stepped closer. "So leave."

Karen ended the call, squared up on him. "You can't speak to me like that!"

Michael didn't back down. "I'll speak to you any damn way I want if you're going to act like a spoiled little bitch!"

His heart stopped, dipped in icy fear. That might have gone too far. He stopped himself from pulling back, forcing his body to remain in place, in this dominating stance. Even when Karen's mouth hung open and she gasped in horror, he commanded his body to stand strong.

They stared at one another for a long moment. Then Karen slowly began nodding. "Okay," she said. She slammed the phone on the receiver, set her purse down on the table. "You won't be so smug when I call my husband down here to beat your scrawny little ass."

Michael shrugged, doing all he could to ignore his pounding heart. "Go for it."

Karen shrank a little. Just a little. But enough that Michael noticed, and it emboldened him. She seemed to think for a beat, then grinned wickedly.

"You know," she said, her voice now conversational. The difference in volume between this and before was a bit jarring. Still, the underlying tone of manipulation remained. "I'm really used to getting my way."

It was Michael's turn to scoff. "No shit." Again, he heard the words, still amazed they were his own. Karen continued.

"It's not often someone has the balls to tell me no." Karen stepped steadily closer. Michael didn't move, arms still crossed. She was directly in front of him now, bringing with her the subtle scent of some implacable, expensive perfume. Michael felt another drop of sweat trace a line down his cheek.

"Maybe," Karen said, placing a finger gently on his chest, "if I do you a little favor, you'll give me my money back?"

Michael blinked, felt his chest deflate a bit. "What?"

Karen's grin widened wickedly. "I mean, since you have such big balls," she traced her finger down his chest, his stomach, to rest at his crotch. "They must need a little release?" She cupped him, causing him to jump. He held his hands up defensively.

"Wait a minute!" he shouted. Her hand cupped more firmly. He felt blood rushing downward, despite his protests. When his cock began to swell, she used the tips of her fingers to tease its underside through his jeans. She let out a derisive laugh at his discomfort, his lack of control.

"See?" she cooed. "I'll take care of this," she squeezed him, he tensed. "You take care of me. Deal?"

This bitch was out of her mind. All of this for some fucking lightbulbs?

Before he could speak, she pushed him into the desk chair, knelt between his knees. Her hands caressed up his legs, back to his crotch where they began to massage through the material. It hurt a little, jeans not being very comfortable in this sort of situation, but he couldn't deny the effect it had on him.

He let his body relax a little. His head lolled back, eyes closed. Karen continued to press, rub, run her fingers across him.

But she wasn't going any further. When the initial shock began to wane, the thought occurred to him that this was... lazy of her.

Yes, that was it. Lazy. This wasn't a favor for him at all. He looked down, and there was that wicked smile, the hidden eyes no doubt soaking in his submission at her half-hearted touch. What a joke of a man to be defeated so easily, she must be thinking.

What exactly was Michael supposed to get out of this, anyway? If he finished, he'd be walking out of here with a sore dick and stained pants.

Then he spotted her wedding ring. It was a huge diamond. Some poor slob somewhere didn't know his wife was cheating on him with a store clerk, and for what?

This wasn't worth his dignity. Fuck this.

He pushed her hands away. "No," he said, standing. "Just get out of here." She was on her feet at once, mouth hanging open.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she said. "What the hell is wrong with you? You little shit!"

Michael felt the sweat on his back now. His breathing had gone from unsteady and anxious to slow, deep.

Get control. Get her out of here. He felt himself straining against his pants. Pushing past the embarrassment, he squared his shoulders again, glared back at her.

"You're not getting your way this time," he said.

Karen shook her head. "Watch me!"

She stepped forward, cupping him again. He pushed her hand away.

"Stop it! I said no!" he shouted, stepping back. She went for him again, and again he pushed her away. "They're just lightbulbs, you fucking psycho!"

When Karen reached again, he clutched her wrist, pulled her arm away and held it tight. She struggled against him, and with one last effort tried to grab him with her free hand. When he felt her hand there, anger bubbled inside his guts. Here was someone that had life handed to them on a platter. Someone who knew that the louder they screamed, the more they got.

It ended here.

Michael threw his other hand out, and grabbed.

Karen let out a shocked gasp, like someone falling into a pool of freezing water. They both stood there, still, silent.

Michael didn't register what he had done immediately. His fingers were warm. Very warm. He looked down to see in the briefest second of absolute madness, he had grabbed her crotch in turn.

Her hand remained on his jeans, pressing against his now engorged cock. As long as her hand stayed there, he wouldn't let go of her.

Karen grit her teeth. "Get your hand off me!"

"YOU Let go of ME!" Michael demanded. He squeezed, holding her tighter, feeling her thighs press hard around his hand. Distantly he noticed how warm she felt down there.

"Just give me my stupid money and I won't have you arrested for-!"

"For what? THIS?" Michael sneered. He stepped closer into her hand, but squeezed her pussy even tighter. She went rigid.

"Y-you can't-!" she stammered. Michael stepped even closer, pressing his chest into hers, feeling her breasts against him.

He wasn't going to let anyone treat him like a doormat anymore. Not people like this, who think they own everyone and everything. Who think they can assault someone and get away with it without repercussion.

"You started this," Michael growed. With one hand he clutched the back of her hair, burying his fingers into her stupid haircut. She winced, gasped in pain. With this other hand, Michael undid his belt, then his pants, and pulled himself out. The sudden lack of restraint against his jeans felt amazing. His dick throbbed in the humid air between them.

"W-wait!" Karen cried. "You-!" she winced again as he yanked her hair sharply. He ripped those pretentious sunglasses from her face, threw them to the floor. Her eyes were brown. They glistened as she watched him in absolute terror.

He got right in her stupid little face. "Fucking blow me."

Michael forced Karen to her knees, keeping the back of her head held tight in his hand, and shoved his full cock into her mouth.

Immediately she tried to scream, but the sound came muffled against his dick as he began to bob her head along his length. The vibration of her gagging protests felt amazing. The warmth of her mouth made him throb. She started to push hard against his legs, but his body was in such a state of absolute control she may as well have been trying to knock down a brick wall. He didn't even feel pain when she tried hitting him, pounding her fists against his stomach, his arms. It made him want more.

Michael felt warm saliva pooling in her mouth, then dripping out and around him. She made ridiculous little whines as he forced her on. This felt good. Really good.

Gripping Karen's head back sharply, he let himself slide from her mouth. She coughed violently. Still, she attempted to push against him, but her strength seemed to have run out. He gazed down at her as she sat on her knees. He watched her breasts heave in the low cut top, glistening with sweat in the heat of the room. She looked so pathetic now.

"Don't worry," Michael said cruelly, pulling her to her feet. "I'll return the favor."

He pushed her hard. She staggered forward, doubled over the desk, where he promptly stepped behind her, pressing his crotch into her ass. She wore leggings. Michael Let his hands explore her, savoring the softness of her body.

"P-please..." she begged, still coughing, her eyes tearing.

"Shut up." Michael yanked her leggings and panties down in one harsh motion. She screamed through her teeth at the sudden exposure. She had a plump ass. It quivered as her legs threatened to buckle beneath his scrutiny.

"I'm going to teach you some fucking manners." He spanked her. Hard. She screamed in pain and humiliation. He spanked her again. And again. He started to see the red-pink outline of his hand on her soft, pale skin.

"Say you're sorry!" Michael commanded. When Karen didn't answer, he struck her ass again. She screamed. "Say it!" he roared.

"I'm sorry!" she cried, tears running freely down her red face. "I'm sorry!"

Michael slapped again, keeping his hand cupped firmly on her asscheek. "Good girl."

He ran his fingers up her thigh, felt her body tense. As his fingertips ascended, she attempted to stand on her tiptoes to escape his touch. At last he reached her opening, teased it with a finger.

She was warm. Wet. Soaked, even.

Karen whimpered. It was Michael's turn to laugh with cruelty. "You like this, don't you?"

She shook her head, closed her eyes tight, causing more tears to fall. "No!"

Michael reared back and slapped her pussy. Karen's body quaked.

"No! No! No!" she begged, writhing on the table.

Michael knelt, spreading her open with his thumbs. "What about this?" He buried his face and mouth into her. His lips ravished hers, his tongue circling and teasing her clit.

Immediately her body went wild. Her legs shook, her spine jerked. She grunted as his fingers buried deeper into her soft flesh. He wrapped his arms around her legs, holding her in place.