This is a story. It never happened and never will. The General Disclaimer is incorporated herein by reference.

Wandering through Jefferson Plaza shopping mall in Richmond one day, I happened to be in the right place at the right time. I was waiting in line at a water fountain when I overheard the conversation between an ugly woman (aren't they all?) and a pretty girl about eight years old.

"Mom, I have to go to the bathroom," the girl said, as she stepped away from the fountain and wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her dress.

"Okay, Cindy, it's there, down this hall, by the exit there. See it? Meet me back in World of Fabric, and don't dawdle," the bitch answered. The ugly one turned and walked quickly down the hall back to the main mall, and disappeared around the corner.

The pretty one, named Cindy as I now knew, unhurriedly walked down the hall the other way, toward the exit and the restrooms. After the ugly bitch was gone, I followed Cindy as quickly and unobtrusively as possible. She found the proper room and slipped inside. This exit was rarely used, since it opened onto a very small parking lot unconnected to the main lot. There were restrooms closer to the main mall. Few people came down this way, and if they did, I could choose two obvious excuses for me to be following her. I cautiously listened at the door of the girl's room, ready to move on to the exit if anyone came. At first I was going to settle for walking behind her back to the mall, admiring her legs. But then I had another idea, bold and daring, and extremely risky. I quickly decided that I was never likely to get an opportunity like this again, with so little risk.

I heard her flush, counted to ten, and pushed the door open with my knuckles, without knocking. I caught her just finishing pulling her panties up, and she quickly flipped her dress back down over them.

"Who are you? What are doing in here!?" she challenged angrily.

"I'm an undercover policeman," I told her. "I've got bad news for you, Cindy. Your mother has been arrested for shoplifting and she's being taken to the police station. I've been sent to get you and bring you to the station to meet her."

"What do you mean, shoplifting? She wouldn't do that!" she protested.

"That's up to the judge to decide, but I know she is definitely on her way to the station right now. She told me where to find you." I gave her my most sympathetic look and reached out my hand to her. "Look, Cindy, if I get you there fast enough you can go home with her when she's released. If she's gone when we get there, you'll have to spend the night in juvenile hall. That's a jail for mean kids, in case you didn't know; it's mostly for mean boys, but there are a few nasty girls there, too. We don't have much time, Cindy. Come with me, right now."

She took my hand and I led her out of the restroom. I glanced both ways down the hallway before stepping out. The way was clear, and I led her down the short distance to the exit. I pulled her along at a rapid pace as we went to my car. No one paid much notice to us.

"You sit in the back seat," I commanded, "and buckle the lap belt. I'm sorry, Cindy, but I have to handcuff you. It's regulations." I pulled two pair of handcuffs from the bottom of a duffle bag I keep under the front seat. Mostly it was for fantasies, but I sometimes took it along 'just in case' and this time it finally paid off. Cindy had the seatbelt in place around her slender waist. I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible but I couldn't take a chance on some driver seeing her when she realised I wasn't going anywhere near any police, let alone a station. I cuffed her wrists together and pushed the cuffs tight. They were child-size "toy" handcuffs, but they were solid metal and she wouldn't have a prayer once I got the other pair and the ropes on her.

"Why my feet, too?" she wondered as I slipped the other cuffs around her ankles and snapped them solid.

"Regulations," I replied. "Now lean over and put your hands down by your feet." She did so, completely confused but completely submissive. I quickly looped a rope from the duffle bag around the chains of the cuffs and tied them together so she couldn't sit up.

"I don't like this!" Cindy complained as I started the engine and drove out, as fast as legally possible. I was going to obey every speed limit, signal every turn, stop completely at every stop sign, and keep a sharp eye out for pigs. I sure didn't need to get stopped for some stupid mistake right about now. I figured I had about six more minutes before the pigs heard that Cindy was missing. I wanted to be miles away by then.

I drove residential streets instead of main roads, since I figured the pigs couldn't watch all the small roads. When I spotted a church with a fenced parking lot, I pulled in and around behind, where I would be out of sight of onlookers with very little risk of anyone interrupting me. I climbed over the seat and sat beside her.

"Are we there?" she asked.

"No, I just remembered I have to search you, Cindy. Regulations, you know. I'm going to untie the rope, but don't try anything funny."

"Search me for what? Hurry up, I don't want to go to jail tonight."

"I have to search you for weapons. You know, guns, knives, razor blades, forks, needles, pins or anything you could use as a weapon. I have to search every place you could have hidden a weapon. Okay, now lay down on the seat." I turned her face down and swung her legs up onto the seat. I wound the left seat belt strap around the cuffs on her ankles, then looped the right belt through the loops of the cuffs on her wrists and snapped it shut. Then I unhooked the middle seatbelt.

"What's that for?" Cindy wanted to know. "I don't need to be tied up like a criminal, I'm not going to try to get away, I just want my mother back!"

"We'll see," I answered. I looked once more around the parking lot of the church, decided it was safe, and abandoned all caution as unnecessary, only spoiling my fun. I prepared to drop the pretense as soon as she caught on that this was no longer according to 'regulations'. I didn't think it would take her very long.

She began squirming, but didn't protest, as I slid my hands along her legs, up inside her dress, and over her bottom. Her dress followed my hands up her back, to her shoulders, then stayed there as my hands made the return trip along her sides. I slid my fingers inside her panties and felt her bottom. She gasped in surprise when I slid my fingers into her crack and felt her up and down. "Hey!" she exclaimed when I poked my forefinger between her legs, but she settled down again when I withdrew it.

With the back of her dress still up at her shoulders and the back of her panties still down, revealing her bottom, I turned her over. "Do you really have to do this? I don't like this at all!" she whined. Again I started from her knees, caressing her soft warm skin, then the wrinkle of panties covering her pussy, then skin again as I slid her dress up past her tiny pink titties, to her neck. "Stop it!" she demanded. "This isn't nice, I'm going to tell on you to my mother!" I rubbed her tits in circular motions, then watched her squirm as I slid my hands down toward her cute Care-Bears panties again. "No!! Oh don't do that, stop it please! Stop it! Eeeeaaiiee!" she screamed when she felt her panties slide off her pussy and my fingers begin probing her there.

I slid her panties down even further, leaving them wrapped around her ankles. She was bucking and screaming, but the windows were up and my car really holds in the noise. My ears began to hurt, but no one else could hear her. I wrenched her dress over her head and twisted it tightly around her wrists. I removed my own clothes next, contemplating the delicious feast laid out before my eyes. She quieted down, both verbally and bodily, as I undressed, saving her strength for the final struggle. I gazed upon her slender little-girl's body, the light downiness of her legs and arms, the cute dimple of her belly button, the clean pink mound of her pussy with a deeper pink slit barely showing inside it, her long straight brown hair which I stroked, leaving a lock around her neck.