Martin's Game

All of my stories are pure fantasy and do not condone sexual violence of any kind against women or men. If you have trouble separating fact from fantasy, or are easily offended please do not read this story.

Marilyn Stapleton heard the door of the ladies boutique open and close whilst she was unpacking a batch of new dresses in the back room. Sarah, her young assistant, had had to leave early, but she didn't rush out to attend to the customer immediately, because she wanted to finish putting the new items on hangers. It was almost 5.00p.m. and shutting the doors and going home was preoccupying her mind. Winter darkness was descending rapidly outside. It's always the same, she thought, at the end of a relatively slow day, there's always one last minute customer. Oh well, I shouldn't complain, a sale is a sale. Marilyn had set up the upmarket ladies boutique 8 years ago and enjoyed running her own business. Although she didn't really need the money, John, her husband, who was older than her, ran an accountancy firm and they lived very comfortably, The boutique had developed a reputation for high end, formal wear and occasion and party dresses, for the more mature lady, such as ball gowns, mother of the bride, etc.

Marilyn was a very attractive looking lady, for her age in a prim and proper sort of way. At 56 years old, she could easily pass for 10 or 15 years younger. She had a pretty face, her smooth complexion allowing for tiny laughter lines around her large, blue eyes. She never drank or smoked and was a regular at church. She had mid length, dark brown hair, with a natural soft curl, which now required a little help to keep the grey at bay now. She had a soft, peaches and cream complexion and large blue eyes, which now required spectacles for reading. She was quite tall and striking looking, even more so in the conservative 3" heels which were always a part of her work attire. Marilyn wore a smart, tailored light grey, skirt suit with a white, pussy-bow, silk blouse. She felt an obligation to her customers to appear smart and elegant at all times and she insisted on the same standards for her staff. Smoothing the wrinkles from last dress on the rack, Marilyn popped on her 'customer friendly smile' and walked through into the boutique.

Martin Slater had been watching Marilyn and her boutique for two weeks now. Martin was 23, slim, fair-haired and smartly dressed, but relatively unremarkable in appearance. The type of nondescript person most people had trouble recollecting a few hours after leaving his company. However, certain people, more specifically, certain women, had good reason to remember him in some detail after their very first encounter. That was how he had ended up in prison and later transferred to the mental health facility five years ago. However, Martin smiled. that was where it all began really. Where he first developed his 'interest' in older ladies of a certain type. Helen, she was his social worker, classy, lovely, posh Helen... she would remember him for a long time. At the tender age of 18, the authorities had labelled him a very dangerous young man. Not just because of the serious sexual assault, but more importantly, according to his psychiatrist. his prodigious, but twisted, intellect. Martin was a clever young man, in the way most psychopaths are, highly manipulative and determined, in placing his own needs and desires above all others. The ladies who, unwittingly, caught his attention, had no idea what hidden desires they were stirring, behind the bright blue eyes of the introverted teenager.

Helen, his assigned social worker, had unwittingly, provoked the darkness in Martin by, unknowingly, ticking all of his sexual preference boxes. She was lovely, that was true, but that was almost incidental to young Martin's specific fantasy requirements. Helen was mature, elegant and classy, with a an assured, graceful manner that comes from a comfortable upbringing and lifestyle. All essentially desirable traits in Martin's fantasy woman. But, what drew Martin to Helen initially was her mature, stylish, femininity and her refined, well educated voice. Despite the fact that she was assigned to look after him, these were all signs of how inaccessible to a young man, like him, she really was. This inaccessibility made him want her more, but his juvenile, clumsy attempts to show affection were obviously dismissed by the older lady, amid condescension and smiling embarrassment. The understandably, tortured, teenage desire felt by Martin, quickly turned into resentment, humiliation and anger. He still wanted Helen desperately, but now his lust was inextricably mingled with a need to return this humiliation. Eventually, overwhelmed by his repressed feelings, he did. The unsuspecting social worker was totally taken in by the shy, quiet youth and was easily lured into his trap. Helen never worked in social work again, after she was discovered in a distraught state, in her torn clothing, having been bound, gagged with her own underwear. The traumatised lady never told anyone, even the police, the full, true details of that evening, However the story she did eventually tell, led to young Martin being locked in a secure mental hospital for a number of years. However, after three years in a mental health facility, his intelligence and exemplary behavior led to his eventual supposed rehabilitation and release. Although he was still under a supervision order and monitoring, department cutbacks meant that he enjoyed a good deal more freedom than the authorities had intended. Consequently when Martin had walked by Marilyn's boutique and saw her, window dressing an elegantly attired dummy, two weeks ago, her fate had been sealed.

When the smart looking manageress emerged behind the tasteful polished wood counter, she was surprised to find the shop appeared to be deserted on first glance. Then a young, fair haired man stepped from behind a rack of clothing. He was looking around at the clothing, he seemed distracted and a little lost. Marilyn was slightly puzzled, her clientele did not usually include men as young and, not to put too finer point on it, "downmarket", as this. He wore a blue windbreaker jacket, jeans and trainers, all of which were slightly scruffy.

"Oh... hello I didn't see you there... can I help you?"

Marilyn's, vaguely Joanna Lumley sounding, voice was clearly the product of a private school education.

The young man smiled disarmingly and looked at her with a very frank gaze.

"Hello, yes... er, I've been looking around..."

His voice tailed off distractedly, but he continued to stare her, a bit disconcertingly, she thought and she was struck by the intensity of his blue eyes. She smiled back, it occurred to her that this boy might be a little shy and wanted to buy something special for his girlfriend. However, she also thought that his inexperience had led him a little astray. Marilyn's boutique was almost certainly way out of his price and probably his girlfriend's age range. On the other hand this young man could provide her with an amusing anecdote to tell her friends over lunch. With that thought in mind, she decided, a little mischievously, to amuse herself briefly at the young man's expense. Marilyn Smiled brightly.

"Well now, how can I help you sir!"

The young man blinked a couple of times, shuffled and then broke his gaze away, looking around. The reason for his apparent, tongue tied, confusion, was the fact that he was trying to deal with his, almost overwhelming, nervous excitement. Although she was unaware, it was the close proximity Marilyn herself, his intended victim, after weeks of watching and planning, which was the cause. Her perfume wafted over him and he could see the silky bow at her throat, the snug fit of her skirt, her painted nails and matching lips, curled into a confident smile. So smug, so sure of herself. Martin felt his cock twitch in his pants and at the same time, a switch flipped in his brain. He was no longer nervous, he knew what he was going to do. He looked Marilyn in the eye and his voice was quietly assured.

"I'm not sure if you can... I'm looking for something a little... classy!"

"Are you're looking for a present for someone special Sir?

Marilyn asked the question with an air helpful innocence, which she thought, rather cruelly, may perhaps add to his discomfort.

"I am actually...now you come to mention it, yes!"

He seemed to be more certain than he ought to be, his eye wandered from Marilyn to the shop door and around the room. Marilyn, trying to reassert herself, fixed the youth with a direct look.

"Is it something for your girlfriend, a blouse or a dress... lingerie perhaps?"

She managed to place a slightly knowing emphasis on the last item, but still maintain an air of innocence.

"I like the dress in the window"

Marilyn arched a well formed eyebrow, she was quite surprised by his air of certainty.

"Oh I see, which one....?"

"The white one, with the pink roses on... In the middle"

Again, more assured than she had expected, the older woman was used to being in charge in these encounters.

"Ahh! Yes, the silk occasion dress... it's beautiful isn't it... But...rather expensive I'm afraid!". She said, with a barely concealed edge of condescension. The dress wasn't white, it was ivory silk. The top buttoned all the way up to a demure, high, ruffled neck, and it had long, transparent, billowy sleeves with buttoned cuffs. The waist was fitted and the flowing skirt flared softly over the hips. It was a high end wedding, special occasion, Ladies Day at Royal Ascot or even the Queens garden party for that matter. What on earth would this young fool know about such things. A woman of Marilyn's experience knew only too well that it must be well out of this silly young idiot's financial reach.

"It is £1,289.99!". Smiling her best professional smile, Marilyn eyed the young man carefully to judge his reaction.

To her disappointment, the young stranger seemed genuinely unconcerned, his relaxed smile remained unchanged.

"Oh, that doesn't matter, because I think it will be just perfect!"

The young man smiled at her again in that sweet way. She was, she liked to think, a pretty good judge of her customers and something about this one wasn't right. She would have laid good odds that that price tag would have at least made him wince, before groping for the exit. He was too sure of himself for a young man in this environment. She was used to the few young men who came in the shop alone, being rather shy and deferential, the kind she could enjoy subtly, but smugly, teasing. Her own smile slipped momentarily, briefly betraying her annoyance, before professional poise reasserted itself. She was annoyed, it was late in the day and she was sure this young idiot was wasting her time.

"Well... yes certainly sir... I can see that you obviously know what you want...". Marilyn said politely, but with a hint of exasperation.

"Oh yes I do!". Said her latest customer brightly, almost as if he knew a joke that she wasn't aware of.

"Perhaps you should consider shopping around before outlaying such a sizeable amount on one item...."

No... thank you. I want that dress... It is perfect

The manageress was now exasperated. On the one hand she had felt certain that this young man had made a mistake. It was late and had intended to shoo him away. On the other hand this dress was a very expensive, top of the range item and a very good sale. She decided that she had no choice, she had to take him seriously.

"I see.... Of course sir, what size were you looking for?"

"Oh I might need your advice there, I'd say that her figure is erm, about a UK size 12, but... May be a little larger... perhaps on the... Er.. Bust?"

The last bit was delivered as more of an appeal to the older lady's expertise.

Feeling a little more comfortable now that he had asked her opinion, her confident, professional smile returned.

"I see. Well, personally I would go for the next size up, 14. That particular dress is quite fitted around the bodice and the 12 may be too tight. I'll just get one from out of the back for you to look at......".

Marilyn turned and walked through the doorway behind the counter.

Martin heard the swish of her nylons and felt the waft of perfume.

"Yes, thank you for your help"

Still sceptical, but feeling more in control now, she carried on talking from the storeroom.

"Oh don't mention it... you know, the lady really should come in for a proper fitting....".

" Hmmm, yes... I suppose so...", he murmured, distractedly.

".... As a matter of fact I have a similar sizing issue myself...!"

Speaking as she retrieved the dress from one of the racks, she turned around and let out a slight squeal. The young man was standing inside the doorway to the back room, he was still smiling, but he seemed different somehow. She hadn't heard him move behind the counter and it alarmed her.

"Oh! I..... You startled me! I should have explained", she carried on slightly breathlessly.

"Customers are not allowed back here, I'm sorry sir!".

The manageress's posh, well modulated voice had climbed a couple of octaves. The strange young man continued to smile at her, but made no movement to retreat or answer her.

Marilyn was unnerved. What was happening here? For the first time she became aware that she was alone in the shop with this man.

"Well no harm done... my fault really. Let's go back into the shop shall we?". The professional smile was still there but the voice trembled slightly.

However, as the manageress walked towards him, to usher him back through to the shop, he remained standing inside the doorway and she took an uncertain step back.

"That's OK... I'm fine right here!", his voice was quiet and calm and his gaze steady.

"I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid you can't..."

He interrupted her, his voice wasn't loud, but resonated clearly in the now quiet storeroom and she felt her stomach flip over.

"I want you to be a good girl for me, because this is a robbery!"

She stared at his relaxed, youthful expression, which didn't seem to fit with the outrageous statement, or the fact that he had casually walked behind the counter and entered the stockroom. What was going on? It was quite surreal and Marilyn struggled to process the situation.

"What?", she heard herself say softly, although she had heard him very plainly.

He smiled again as he looked at her strikingly, attractive face, her eyes were quite wide and her red lipsticked mouth slightly open with surprise. She looked, he thought fleetingly, much younger in her bewilderment, despite the slightly overdone make-up.

Marilyn then saw the knife in his hand and started a scream which never made it out of her mouth. Martin, always one step in front of his victims, moved with almost supernatural speed, one hand was gripping her hair and the other held the cold, steel blade against her exposed throat. The scream was checked and tailed off into a gurgle.

" Please don't scream or struggle... erm... Marilyn...", he said, glancing down at her name tag on her jacket lapel, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"... if you try to escape, you will force me to hurt you... do you understand Marilyn?"

The manageress was shocked and terrified, but some part of her brain was focused purely on survival and it answered for her.

"Uh-huh!"

Martin kept the blade resting lightly in its deadly position as he continued.

"You must promise me Marilyn, you must promise to do exactly what I tell you to do... otherwise... well things will get very messy Marilyn, you understand?"

Marilyn's imagination needed no help filling in the blanks. Keeping any movement to a minimum she tried to calm herself and answered, a little breathlessly.

"Yes, yes I understand... p-please put the knife down, I won't try anything... I promise... please keep calm!"

Marilyn's mind was racing, she doubted that she could overpower him? Could she break free? Who might come to help? If she didn't get home would anyone come looking? His soft voice interrupted her train of thought.

"OK Marilyn this is what is going to happen. You will do exactly what I tell you to do, OK?"

" Yes I promise... please... put down the knife..."

"Of course Marilyn, but you understand that you will have to do some things for me!"

The older woman had tried to think, remember, what was the best thing to do in these situations? Remain calm, keep the person talking, don't antagonize them...

"What do you want me to do?"

She spoke in a more measured tone with only a slight tremor denoting the fear inside her.

"That's very good Marilyn, very professional, the customer is always right yeah! I can see we're going to get along just fine."

Marilyn exhaled audibly as she felt the cold blade move away from her exposed neck.

"Now we understand each other we can relax, can't we?"

Marilyn couldn't answer, but tried to nod.

"That's good. Now the first game we are going to play is lets empty the cash register... come on!"

As they went back into the shop, she looked at the door, but she now noticed that the closed sign had been turned around and the door was bolted top and bottom. He must have done it as soon as he entered, or while she was in the back. that's how he knew he wouldn't be disturbed by anyone else coming in. The manageress opened the till, handed over the cash meekly and he put it all in a plastic carrier bag. Then he turned his bright blue eyes onto hers again.

"Thank you Marilyn", he said with exaggerated politeness.

Now, for this next game, I'm going to have to rely on your knowledge and expertise."

Marilyn just wanted to be home and safe and this ordeal to be over.

"Now, I really do want you to supply me with a complete outfit for the lady of my dreams."

He was staring at Marilyn intently. She should have expected him to want to steal some of the more expensive items, but the cash was more portable for a single person raid like this. The manageress had no choice but to comply. "There are coats and dresses still boxed over there... and some stuff in polythene on the rail here..."

Marilyn indicated the items she spoke of a little distractedly, still dazed by shock.

"Marilyn! You're not paying attention, I said that I require an outfit... one complete outfit, for a special lady...!"

His voice was raised and the tone sharper. The smile was gone gone and he seemed angry for the first time since entering the shop. It hinted at a very real capacity for danger and violence.

"... I want you to give me the highest standard of customer service that you have ever shown, do you understand me, you stuck-up bitch!"

The words and tone shocked her and Marilyn was now terrified, her attention became sharply focussed on appeasing him.

"I..I'm sorry I'm sorry... sir! Of course... how can I er... what sort of clothes are you looking for?"

There was no hint of the older woman's previous air of confident superiority.

Martin's expression changed again, like someone flicking a switch, the boyish smile returned immediately. Whilst that was a slight relief to the older woman, she now realised that this boyish smile was attached to a potential psychopath with a knife. Marilyn was relying on her wits, it appeared that he wanted to play some sort of game and her survival seemed dependent on how well she played along.

"Well now, that's so much better Marilyn... you have already produced a lovely dress, let me see.. what about some nice coordinated underwear?"

Marilyn didn't look directly at him, her eyes were drawn to the knife, but she could feel that he was staring at her, watching for her reaction. She took a deep breath, trying to remain neutral and professional, she made an effort to treat him like a normal customer. She took a deep breath and entered his 'game'.