Retail Therapy

What another run-of-the-mill shitty day this had turned out to be. I was still stocking clothes four hours after my shift had ended since Mary had called in sick and my fucking maniac of a supervisor, John, had practically threatened to fire me if I didn't pull a double to cover for her. One of these days, I'm actually going to look for a new job like I've been threatening for years... Then what'll John do?

It's really unfair that all the good looking people in the world get away with so much shit because of their appearance. And boy, John's wavy, sandy blonde hair and dark eyes worked in his favor. He was about six feet tall with broad shoulders with Channing Tatum-like features. John was also no stranger to the affect he had on women, and I was certain it was one of the main causes of that conceited, self-absorbed attitude. Sometimes I wondered if he kissed his mirror at night, or filmed himself jerking off. I also wondered how he got stuck as a manager of a Gap. With his modelesque aspect and his "superior supervision skills" (gag), I felt that John should be in a suit bossing people around on Wall Street or yelling at a jury while defending a very guilty convict in court. Either way, I tried my best to avoid and ignore him while getting on with my lousy job.

Unfortunately, John has this habit of walking around and hitting on anything with two legs and a rack. In a smooth, almost suave, kind of way, but still... It was really annoying during our slow times because he'd follow the employees around. He always had a way of saying things without actually saying them, which is why I think he hasn't been slapped with a sexual harassment accusation just yet. That and most of the girls like it. Regardless, through his sleazy lawyer-like charisma, I knew he was some kind of smart. You could just see it in his eyes, below the deep-seated lust, of course. He may have been seedy, but I often had to stop myself from daydreaming about his unfortunately and undeniably fine body. Just imagining those strong arms holding me against him, as he pinned me to the floor, demanding that I... A shopper passed in front of the window in front of me, startling me.

I stood up, my knees popping, after finishing a shoe display near the front. I was glad to move on to something else; I felt, several times, John's eyes on my ass as I was squatting in front of the display. I headed back to the storeroom to see what else needed putting out today. Thankfully, Mary's shift was almost over and other employees were starting close-up duties. I grabbed a box of summer shorts to arrange in the girls' department. Often, I stayed until after closing to wrap stuff up making sure everything was arranged just right etc, etc. I don't understand how half the slackers here got hired in the first place. Regardless, the managers knew to look for me before locking up, and I'd only ever been locked in twice. I rolled my eyes just thinking about how oblivious I become when focused on the little details. I swear, one of these days it's going to be my undoing. For now though, I continued to fold and unfold shorts and lay them out on a table for display.

When lights started going out, I looked up to note that all the customers had cleared out, as well as most of the staff. All except me and John. I rolled my eyes again and took the now empty box back to storage as John messed with the check-out computer. I broke the box down and stacked it up against the wall with the other cardboard boxes, attempting to stack them evenly. In my focus, I didn't hear John walk in behind me. His hand on my shoulder had me practically jumping through the boxes, leaving those body shaped holes you see in cartoons. The surprise had adrenaline pumping through my body, and it wasn't a completely unpleasant feeling. I felt like my perception sharpened and I could har my heart pound a little harder. It helped release a tiny bit of the tension in my muscles that had built up over the double shift. John chuckled but left his hand on my shoulder.

"Staying late again, Viv?"

Well obviously. I pursed my lips and raised an eyebrow disdainfully but nodded in answer to his question considering he was behind me and couldn't see my face. I turned and shrugged my shoulder back to shake off his hand, but it only moved enough to slide down my arm.

"On your way out?" I forced out. It had been a long day and I was in desperate need of relaxation. The idea of soaking in a nice hot bath gave me an internal shiver. The sooner I could get home, the better.

John instead shrugged back and tugged a little on my arm, tentatively I thought. I couldn't see this man doing anything hesitantly. His hesitation caused me to pause from making the dramatic exit I had had in mind. Suddenly, he smirked and I blinked, erasing any illusion of gentle character I had accidentally projected. He, in that sleazy way of his, ran his hand down my arm, forcing me to unconsciously try to pull away. I scoffed and brushed past him, or tried to anyways. His hand tightened on my wrist, slightly jerking me back a step. My scoff turned into a surprised cough which only deepened John's smirk.

"Problem?" he asked, his gravelly voice dropping in tone.

I tried not to visibly gulp and hoped that my voice wouldn't betray my actual lack of confidence.

"You wish," I shot back, trying to weasel my way out of his grip. He loosened the hold on my arm and I stepped away.

I began to turn when he silkily muttered, "I see the way you look at me, just like all the others." I halted, whether from shock at his pure narcissism or at something else, I couldn't tell.

Without turning to face him, I asked, "Oh? And how do you mistakenly think I look at you?" Mr. Stuck-up, cocky pants, I added in my head. I jumped when he touched me again. He must move like a ninja, seeing how this was the second time he snuck up on me tonight. Both of his hands rested on my upper arms now.

"Let go," I ordered. Instead of letting go and responding to my very practical demand, he leaned in and whispered in my ear giving me goosebumps. I couldn't tell if they were the good or bad kind...

"You look at me like you want me."

"And everyone looks at you that way?" I laughed. His grip tightened on my arms. His voice took on a dreamy quality.

"Most everyone anyway. I mean, I'm not an idiot. I know what I look like. I've been... blessed with certain features." I gagged to myself and rolled my eyes yet again. Faster than I thought possible, John spun me around to face him and pressed his lips to mine. I jerked my head away, my body, though, held still by his grip.

"Ew, gross!" I practically shouted in his face. Shock flitted across his face; then, as his expression settled, something darker hid behind his eyes. Something slightly dangerous? I wondered, curious despite myself. I put one foot back and tried yet again to pull away. John smirked once more, letting go of my arms but stepping forward to match the distance I had backed away.

He shrugged. "You can pretend it's not true, but I've seen you looking at me while I work."

"Like everyone else does, you mean?" I asked, sarcasm heavy in my voice. "Why not come on to one of them?" I pursed my lips and raised my eyebrow again; he could see me this time. He chuckled darkly, running a finger down my cheek. I didn't dare move; the look in his eyes still had that dark tint.

"I like my girls with a little fight in them. Let's say, a little bit more of a challenge that way." The sound of his voice made me tremble a little. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Well consider me unchallengable. Don't bother." I turned and started to walk out the doorway to go clock out.

He called after me, "See, if I thought it would make a difference, I may have tried another approach."

I continued walking but spoke over my shoulder, "A different approach?" I reached the cash register computer to sign off my shift, or rather, Mary's shift. He strode along behind me.

"Yeah. You know, romance you, etcetera." I tilted my head and put a hand on my hip, offended.

"I'm not worth romancing?"

He chuckled.

"Not that exactly. Other 'approaches'," he emphasized 'approaches' in a way that was not only obnoxious but kind of sexy, "are just more... appropriate for your type. Sure, you may appreciate romance on a, well, on a romantic level. But that's not what I want to appeal to," he murmured mysteriously. My eyebrows furrowed with my confusion.

"Excuse me?"

He slowly crossed his arms and leaned against the cashier counter.

"You're a girl who needs a good fucking. But not just any kind of fucking. A particular... brand."

My eyes widened in shock.

"Excuse me?" I repeated again, but barely above a whisper, curiosity now definitely taking over the shock.

"You're a fighter," he continued, his eyes raking the back wall of clothes displays ambivalently. "I can just tell; you secretly like to fight. And you're such a control freak... your type revels in losing control, being forced to lose control." I had no idea what he was talking about but listening to the way he said it was turning my body against me. I was getting wet. Damnit. I logged out and continued to stare at the computer. "Like that kiss back there. You reacted violently, because you were surprised, but also because it was a sign of repressed passion." He leered.

"Psh. I yelled 'gross'. Not exactly the sign of a turned on girl..." I argued still staring at the computer, refusing to look at him.

In that ninja-like way of his, his hand snaked out faster than I could see it, tangling in my hair and pulling my head back so he could kiss me again, hard and rough. My eyes wide, I squealed against his mouth, but this time he didn't let go. I squirmed as his other hand circled my waist and pulled me against him. I couldn't budge against his muscled arm or his rock hard body. His mouth crushed against mine was making it hard to breathe, not to mention the fact that, yes, fine, he was a good kisser. My lips tingled, and I gasped when John bit down on my lower lip sensually. I could feel his kiss all the way down to my toes. I was getting lightheaded, but began to fight back harder. I might have been getting wetter by the second, but that didn't mean I had to give in; like I wanted to get caught up with this sleaze-ball. I pinched his side really hard, finally forcing John to at least relinquish his hold on my mouth. I gasped for air. John groaned, but not because of my pinch...

"See? Not so bad."

"Maybe for you," I spat defensively. "You can't just go around grabbing girls and kissing them and expecting them to like it. In fact..." I reached up and brought my hand back to slap him. Right before my hand made contact with his cheek, the hand he had tangled in my hair grabbed my wrist, stopping my hand mid-slap. I blinked, astonished.

"Nuh uh uh," he tisked. "Good try though."

The hand wrapped around my waist slid down to my ass, cupping one cheek. I outwardly grimaced but something inside me melted a little, and I hated myself for it. He pulled me forward using both hands, one on my ass and the other still on the wrist of the hand I had tried to slap him with. I tried digging my feet into the floor but he only reacted more strongly, roughly tightening his grip on me and pulling me towards him, against him. Another surge of adrenaline raced through my chest and a giggle escaped my lips, one that I cut off as soon as I realized it had happened. What was wrong with me? John's eyes smoldered and he chuckled deeply in response. I tried even harder to pull away and he tsked me again, closing in on one of the storefront's walls. He turned us and slammed me against the wall in a pleasantly painful sorta way.

He moved his hands to my shoulders and eyed me up and down appreciatively. I narrowed my eyes more at him but my traitorous lips lifted into a wicked grin. Seriously, what was happening with me? I was quickly losing my false confidence and falling into something... else. I mentally shook myself and then re-pursed my lips. He shifted his grip to both of my arms.

"Something in the store you like, sir?" I cocked my head and his grip tightened on my arms, in pleasant surprise I supposed. I experimentally pushed back, gauging his strength, his seriousness about all of this. His eyes glinted.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," his voice rumbled in warning. My chest tightened in response. Just for fun, I struggled some more. His eyes flashed and his arms ran brusquely up my skin locking my upper arms against the wall behind me. So quickly that he caught me off-guard, he ran his tongue up the length of my neck, hot and wet, until his nose bumped my earlobe which he equally as quickly pulled into his mouth and bit, hard. I gasped and barely contained a moan. He pulled back slowly enough to make me tense. His hands slid further down my arms and he took my wrists in one hand, briskly pulling my arms above my head.

"You want this, don't you, baby?" he whispered before licking his lip. My eyes sparkled back in defiance, and I squirmed.

"Like you would know what I want," I shot back, but a shiver up my body betrayed me.

"Oh, I can make a wild guess," he teased.

He slid a leg between both of mine, his hip pressing mine further against the wall. I felt trapped, restrained as I was, but something about it was secretly thrilling. I pushed my chest out, the only part of me that didn't seem to be held down. His glance dropped instantly to my breasts, and he smirked.

"I don't mind you trying to 'escape' that way." His voice was husky. His free hand tugged at my shirt, pulling it out of my khaki pants, and then he began to unbutton it. I didn't know how to stop him, or even if I wanted to; both realizations startled me.

"What are you doing?" I asked, a hint of panic creeping into my voice, my bravado fading away as quickly as he opened my blouse. John didn't pause but instead began tracing the top of my bra with his fingers, giving me goosebumps again. He ignored my question.

"Now you're going to do as I say," he muttered, dipping a finger beneath the fabric of my bra to reach my nipple. My clit jumped in response, but my brain focused on his statement. The absurdity of what he had said almost made me laugh, and helped me regain my former confidence, false or not.

"Oh, am I? Just because you have me pinned to a wall, doesn't necessarily mean I'll just do whatever you say." I scoffed.

"I was counting on it," he rumbled. My skin prickled and I closed my eyes for a moment. John tugged at my bra. "I want this off. Are you going to be good and do that for me if I let go?"

"It's more likely that I'll run screaming from the room," I bluffed. He appraised me for a second and then, once again faster than I could fathom, flipped me around so that my face was pressed against the wall. Just as quickly, he slapped my ass, hard.

"Ouch!" I yelled. "That fucking hurt, you bastard!"

"Ah," I could hear him smiling, "There we go."

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked again, vehemently.

"Making sure you'll do what I tell you. Have you changed your mind?"

I scoffed again. "I don't think so, bud. I think you're crazy."

"And I think you like it," he responded, spanking me hard again in the same place. I winced and let out a squeak. "Are you going to do as I say?"

"Sure," I lied. "Sure I will." I couldn't see his face to see if he believed me, but he let go of my wrists and stepped back.

"Alright, off with the shirt and bra," he commanded.

I moved my hands towards my chest and then faked a lunge to the left and tried to run around him on the right. I unfortunately didn't even get three steps before he grabbed me, sank against the wall in a classic exercise wall sit, and threw me over his legs, spanking me in quick succession. I squealed as he switched back and forth between ass cheeks, increasing in speed and force.

"I'll stop whenever you decide to obey," he warned.

I was actually coming close to tears and managed to push out, "Okay, okay, I will. For real this time." He spanked me twice more and then stopped, leaving his hand on my ass. As I panted, he squeezed causing me to moan both from pleasure and pain. Slowly, I removed my shirt, then bra.

"I'm not gonna be able to sit for a week," I complained.

"I doubt that," he chuckled, helping me to my feet before holding my wrists behind my back with one hand and tracing up my side with the other. My skin felt chilled where he touched it with his fingers. He cupped one of my breasts and squeezed, making me moan. I ignored the smirk he gave me in response.

"See? Aren't you glad you complied?" He traced his thumb over my hardening nipple. I moaned again. I was wet, topless, and at this rate, probably just as fuckable as he had labeled me.

"What exactly are you planning?" I whispered.

"I thought that was obvious," John chuckled. The hand cupping my breast slid down my stomach and over the top of my khakis, which were unfortunately required as part of our work uniform. He slid his hands between my legs and I unconsciously thrust my pelvis forward against him. "I told you, you need a good fucking." He pulled at the button of my pants, popping it open. "Gonna be a good girl and take these off for me too?" he asked with a slight purr in his voice. I considered saying no, being over-confident again, but my lust was absolutely taking over. So much for that relaxation I'd wanted. Not to mention the fact that my ass was still on fire. Seemed like John was right; I just needed to be screwed. I hesitantly nodded, sure the confusion was showing through my eyes.

"You paused..." he murmured. He started to turn me, pulling at my wrists from behind my back. His other hand slowly rose in the air. I turned my head so that I could keep my eye on him.

"Wait! Wait, no I didn't pause," I begged. "I'll take them off, I promise."

"Why?" he asked, raising his hand higher. Why? What do you mean why? I thought rapidly.

"Because you said so?" I said tentatively.

His hand stopped in the air, but didn't come down, just hovered. "That's not what I'm looking for..." I started to panic. I wanted to avoid another spanking. They hurt! His hand began moving again.

"I'll do it because I want to!" I practically yelled.

"That's a little better," John cajoled. "But not quite realistic. I'm not sure I believe you..." His hand rose a few more centimeters. I closed my eyes and gulped. His hand rubbing relentlessly over my pants on my clit was not making my focus any clearer. I took a shaky breath and tried again.

Starting with a moan, I whispered, "Please... let me take them off." John continued to look me in the eye, one eyebrow raised.

"Quite honestly, I'd rather take them off myself. But I'd not want to risk you trying to run off again. Really, I just want what's best for you."

I choked off a hysterical laugh. Between being caught in this situation and being driven crazy with my lust, I didn't know what was more insane. I needed this. I needed him. But it was still hard for me... How was any of this happening?

John leaned closer and whispered in my ear, making whatever part of me that was not already melted, weak and quivery. "I'm going to stop. You're going to be still like a good girl and let me get these pants off of you, won't you now?"

I nodded, my eyes nearly rolling back in my head at the gravelly sound of his voice in my ear. He moved away from between my legs and placed both hands on my hips, letting them slowly slide back towards the zipper. He pulled at the zipper, slower than I thought possible. At this rate, I just wanted him to get on with it!

"Please," I whispered breathless. He continued to pull at the khakis, sliding them down my thighs, over my knees, over my calves...

"Step out," he whispered just as breathlessly.