Forced Sex in the Stockroom

Emma flinched as someone grabbed her shoulder from behind. “Miss, hold up a second. I’d like to take a look in your bag.”

“And you, young man, don’t go anywhere either. We’ve got some questions for you back at the office.”

A burly man in a dark jacket stood behind them, while another had positioned himself in front, blocking their path.

“Damn it,” Emma thought, her stomach dropping – “Store security!”

Jake tried to bolt, but the man in front snagged his arm with a rough yank. “Oh no you don’t – stay right here!”

“Can you identify yourselves?” the man behind them asked, his tone firm.

“I don’t have to show you jack! You can’t even look in my bag, you creeps!” Emma’s voice trembled with a mix of fury and fear.

What if her brother found out? Or worse, what if they knew about the photos? Dread clawed at her chest, her pulse racing.

The two men marched them out of the bustling storefront and into the back of the shop with purposeful strides.

One opened a door, revealing a cluttered storage area stacked with boxes and odds and ends. Two doors flanked a small bench on either side.

“Alright, missy, if you won’t show ID or open your bag willingly, we’ll just have to call the cops – they’ve got the authority we need. This whole place is wired with cameras. You’re welcome to see the footage if you’d like.”

He gestured for them to sit on the bench outside an office door.

“You idiot!” Jake hissed under his breath. “Why’d you have to shove more stuff in your bag? If the cops show, I’m screwed – I’ve got pills on me, and I’m already on probation!”

His words stung, amplifying her panic.

“Just play along, damn it – maybe we can still get out of this.”

Suddenly, one of the doors flew open, and a teenage girl stumbled out, her face streaked with tears. Someone shouted after her not to come back. Emma’s anxiety spiked. She felt drained, desperate to escape – maybe even to sneak off and smoke something to dull the nightmare unfolding around her.

“You, kid, head into that office over there,” one of the men said, pointing at Jake. “And you, miss, we’ve got some special questions for you.”

Jake stepped into the room labeled “Manager.” Inside, a woman in her late thirties, dressed in a sharp blazer, sat behind a desk. The security guy followed him in.

“Sit down,” she said, her voice cold and commanding. “We know what you’re up to. We’ve been watching you for a while now. Those little stunts you’ve been pulling – filming in here without permission and posting it online – we’re not fans. It stops now, and you’re going to learn a lesson.”

The hulking guard snatched Jake’s backpack and started rifling through it. “Hey, this is illegal!” Jake yelled, lunging for the bag. The guard swung a fist into his gut, dropping him to the floor. “Don’t try anything stupid, kid. No witnesses, no backup – if you don’t cooperate, we’ll make this hell for you.”

“Look at this – a phone with a camera, and oh, what’s this? Pills!” The guard waved a small baggie before handing the phone to the woman. She popped out the memory card and passed it to the guard, who left the room.

“Alright, tough guy,” the woman said, leaning forward. “Time for a little chat.”

Outside, Emma sat waiting, the remaining guard’s eyes raking over her. She tugged her jacket tighter over her chest, but his gaze lingered on her bare legs below her shorts. A thud came from the office, followed by Jake’s muffled shout.

The door swung open, and the big guy emerged, holding the memory card. “Get in there, sweetheart,” he barked.

Emma slumped into a chair inside. The two men sat across from her at a desk, one tapping away at a computer.

“You two are in deep – illegal recording, shoplifting, drug possession. When the cops get here, it’s going to be a real mess for you. Shouldn’t you be in class right now, anyway? It’s a Tuesday.”

Her stomach twisted into a knot. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

“Take off the jacket if you’re hot,” the man at the computer said, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

She shrugged it off, feeling their eyes crawl over her tank top and curves – predatory, possessive.

“Quite a catch we’ve got here – nice figure, cute face. Too bad she’s a thief and a junkie,” one of them sneered, edging closer. He perched on the desk in front of her, legs spread, his bulge impossible to ignore.

The other grinned, oily and wide, as he finished at the computer and turned the screen toward her. “I’m your dirty little secret,” her voice purred from the speakers, her face on the footage smeared with something she couldn’t bear to name, beaming with a twisted pride.

Emma froze.

“Now, kid,” the woman in the other office said, slotting a new memory card into Jake’s phone and setting it on the desk, “we’re going to make a video. Play nice, and you and your girlfriend might walk away.”

“What do you want from me?” Jake asked, curiosity overtaking his fear.

She had a stern face, hair pulled back tight, and a no-nonsense air. For a woman in her late thirties, she was striking – faint lines around her eyes, bold red lipstick. She wore a crisp blouse under her blazer.