

 
                          MALL OF JUSTICE

                                by 

                             Joe Doe


SHE'S THE NEW HEAD OF SECURITY AT THE MALL IN JUSTICE, KY, AND SHE 
CATCHES A SHOPLIFTER ON HER FIRST DAY.  BUT THE MALL GUARDS END UP 
STRIP-SEARCHING HER WHILE THE CRIMINAL WATCHES. 



"YOU'RE Sam Jackson?" the surprised store clerk said.

"Yes, I'm SAMANTHA Jackson, and I'm the new head of the security 
here at the mall," Sam replied, sharply.  "And I just caught this 
SCUM shoplifting.  Now where is the security office?"

Despite her tone, Samantha understood the clerk's confusion; even 
she had to admit she didn't look like the head of security.

Samantha was supposed to start work as the new head tomorrow, but, 
in the past, she had always made a splash by making a surprise 
undercover arrest the day BEFORE she started work.  It was a good 
way to shake up the security staff and show upper management that 
she was really worth the six figure consulting fee that they were 
paying her. 

What made the arrest slightly ridiculous was Samantha's undercover 
outfit.  She was just over 5 foot tall, trim, and, despite her 28 
years, very youthful in appearance.  She thought the best way to 
catch a shoplifter was to dress like one, so today she was dressed 
like a somewhat trashy teenage girl: blue jean short-shorts, cheap 
sandals, and a midriff-baring t-shirt.

She wanted to look 18 or 19, so the front of the skimpy t-shirt 
read, "Justice Community College," while the back of the shirt 
had "Sophomore Cheerleading Squad."  No bra, of course.  A wad of 
bubblegum completed her disguise.  No one would think that the 
luscious coed wandering through the store was an experienced 
former FBI agent, hired by Justice Shopping Mall in a desperate 
attempt to catch shoplifters.

What made the picture even more absurd was the fact that the petite 
Sam had arrested a tall 35-year-old man in a conservative business 
suit.  Harry hadn't wanted to buy the perfume because he knew his 
wife would see the charge on his credit card, and it was rather 
awkward explaining to your wife why you were buying presents for 
your mistress.  Harry had noticed the juicy teenage babe checking 
out the cheaper perfume at the end of the counter, but she seemed 
too young and spacey to even notice him slipping the small bottle 
of perfume into his pocket.  Harry was wrong, however, and he soon 
found himself in handcuffs.

Samantha enjoyed her work and was rougher than necessary when she 
tightened the cuffs on Harry. 

She was so excited to have caught a shoplifter that she didn't even 
notice the small orange locker key that fell out of her pocket when 
she slammed Harry against the counter.

The guard at the front desk of the security office was as surprised 
as the clerk had been.  Sam quickly explained who she was, handed 
the reception guard the perfume, and issued her orders: "Send two 
male guards down here right away.  We're going to give this lowlife 
a cavity search to make sure there isn't any other hidden 
contraband...ANYWHERE." 

Harry swallowed; this couldn't be happening to him! 

"Do you have an interrogation room in here?" Samantha asked.

The guard was stunned by Sam's dictatorial demeanor.  "Yes, Ma'am, 
the rooms are at the end of the hall," he quickly replied.  "Search 
room is on the left, observation room on the right.  I'll call the 
guards right away, Miss Jackson."

"You do that," Sam replied as she roughly shoved the hapless Harry 
down the hall.

Samantha knew that the cavity search wasn't necessary in this case. 
But she also knew that Harry wasn't a professional criminal, and, 
over the years, she had found that strip-searches were an excellent 
method of teaching casual shoplifters a painful lesson.  She knew 
Harry wouldn't be back for a second helping after he had felt a 
strange man's finger in his rectum!  Besides, she thought Harry 
was kind of cute, and she was going to enjoy seeing the attractive 
young man bent over with his tight little buns in the air.

She uncuffed Harry and shoved him through the first door on 
her left at the end of the hall, leaving the cuffs dangling 
suggestively on the outside doorknob in case the officers 
decided that they needed them during their search.  Then she 
went through the door on her right and prepared to enjoy the 
show. 

		******************************              

When the phone rang in the video surveillance room, Bart cursed.  
The cute young businesswoman on the video monitor had already 
stripped down to her underwear, and Bart and Art knew that it 
would only be a few minutes before she was naked.

But the voice on the other end of the phone was firm.  "Sam 
Jackson, the new head of security, decided to start a day 
early.  Sam arrested a perp for shoplifting some perfume and 
wants two male guards to perform the cavity search."

Bart looked longingly at the cute businesswoman, who was in the 
process of unhooking her bra.  "Do I have to come now?" he said, 
pleadingly. 

"If I were you, I'd get down here quick," the other guard replied. 
"I'm going to lunch." 

Bart sadly switched off the monitor just as the luscious babe was 
hooking her finger into the waistband her lacy pink panties.  Art 
objected loudly, but, when Bart explained the phone call, the two 
hulking security guards dutifully trudged downstairs. 

Bart and Art rarely left the office, mostly limiting their 
activities to munching doughnuts and monitoring the hidden 
video cameras in the female changing rooms.  Little did the 
two horny guards know that an even better show was about to 
begin.

		******************************

Samantha was confused.  The room she was standing in looked like 
an interrogation room, not an observation room.  The room had a 
one-way mirror, but Sam was on the wrong side and she couldn't 
see Harry in the room next door; the only thing she saw was her 
own bewildered reflection.

The guard had said the interrogation room was "on the left," but of 
course he was seated opposite her when he gave that description.  
Had Sam gone into the wrong room?

As soon as she realized her mistake, she tried to go back out into 
the hallway so that she could switch rooms.  But, when she tried to 
turn the doorknob, she found that the door had locked behind her.

She quickly realized her predicament.  She was standing in the 
strip-search room, and she was dressed like a classic teenage 
shoplifter.  Perfume was just the sort of item someone dressed 
like her would steal.  She began to nervously review her options. 

Her tiny pink purse was barely big enough to hold the handcuffs she 
had needed to carry.  She hadn't even tried to cram anything else 
into the minuscule bag.  Of course, now the handcuffs were dangling 
on the doorknob outside, and her purse was completely empty. 

None of the guards at Justice Mall knew Samantha, and she purposely 
hadn't told anyone where she was.  She had no ID whatsoever, since 
she had locked her purse, private detective's badge, gun, and all 
of her regular clothes in the storage locker when she had come to 
the mall that morning. 

Samantha reached into her pocket to feel for the small locker key.  
At this point she knew it was more than just a key to a locker.  
The tiny piece of metal had suddenly become the key to proving her 
true identity. 

It was only then that she realized that the key was GONE.

Sam tried again to open the door, but it was a sturdy steel 
contraption that was specifically designed to hold shoplifters 
like her.  She swallowed.  What a strange thought.  "I'm not a 
shoplifter!" she told herself. 

The normally unflappable woman started to have a panic attack as 
she looked frantically around the room.  There was only one door, 
and it wasn't going to budge.  It was only then that she noticed 
the table in the center of the room.

Facing the mirror was a hospital green medical exam table.  What 
really got her attention were the shiny steel stirrups on the end. 

She was confused.  Why did an interrogation room have an exam 
table?  Like a flashback in a movie, she heard her own voice as 
she gave the guard her now chilling directions: 

"Send two male guards down here right away.  We're going to give 
this lowlife a cavity search to make sure there isn't any other 
hidden contraband...ANYWHERE." 

Nervously Samantha walked over to the ominous exam table for a 
closer look.  She could see her reflection in the shiny steel 
stirrups.  Though a self-confident, experienced police officer, 
in the polished surface of the steel stirrups she could see the 
frightened eyes of a helpless teenage college student, desperate 
to get out of her strip-search.

She touched the shiny silver stirrups and flinched when the static 
electricity gave her a small shock.  She ran her hands over the icy 
cold metal.  The frigid stirrups were mechanical and impersonal, 
but she knew that they would do an excellent job of holding her 
bare feet.

As she continued to run her hand over the stirrups, her throat went 
dry.  The table was old, and the stirrups were well-used.  She knew 
she would be indistinguishable from the countless others who, over 
the years, had been forced to climb into the stirrups and assume 
the unspeakably degrading position in front of the large one-way 
glass.

The mirror was big enough that it could offer a large number of 
male officers a perfect view of the exam table.  She knew that law 
enforcement officers routinely abused these types of mirrors.  She 
had herself enjoyed many free "shows" over the years, often joking 
about the practice with her fellow officers. 

But now that she was standing on the other side of the glass, the 
one-way mirror didn't seem so amusing.

Sam always viewed herself as a successful law enforcement officer, 
a force to be reckoned with.  A few hours ago, she had strutted 
into the mall dressed in an expensive and chic charcoal gray suit.  
She had been a self-assured professional then.  The thought that 
anyone would even THINK of searching her was totally absurd.

But now, when she looked in the mirror, a frightened, scantily 
clad teenage girl nervously chewing a wad of gum stared back at 
her.  Where had the self-confident career woman gone?  Samantha 
had transformed herself into the very model of a shoplifter, and 
stripping her shamefully naked and placing her into the degrading 
stirrups could now be done as a matter of routine.  Her mortifying 
strip-search would be a trifling, routine procedure of no 
consequence to anyone but her. 

She knew her pleading look all too well.  A few hours ago, she had 
been a haughty professional, in charge and in control.  Now she 
looked exactly like one of the countless frightened females whom 
she had gleefully strip-searched over the years.

		******************************

Harry was initially confused when he saw the frightened Samantha 
desperately searching the exam room, but he caught onto the 
possibilities of the situation quickly.  If this was Sam's first 
day, the mall guards probably wouldn't know who she was.  The 
receptionist and the store clerk had both seemed confused about 
who she was.  And Samantha and Harry were obviously in the wrong 
rooms.

Harry quickly decided to take advantage of any opportunities that 
arose.

The two opportunities soon knocked on Harry's door and introduced 
themselves.  "I'm Bart, and this is Art," Bart said.  "I assume 
you're Sam Jackson, the new head of security." 

Harry was ready.  "Yes, I am.  I'd like to thank you two for coming 
down here so quickly.  It's good to see men like you two so on the 
ball."

Art smiled.  "Thank you, Mr. Jackson.  Is that the perp we're 
supposed to cavity search?" Art asked, indicating the fidgeting 
Samantha in the next room. 

"Yeah, that's her," Harry replied.

"Are you sure it's okay if we give her a cavity search?" Bart 
asked.  "The last head of security only let us search males."

"I can assure you it is fine with me," Harry said with a smile. 
(THAT, at least, was true!)

"You are searching her with my permission and under my authority," 
Harry explained, sternly.  

"You left these handcuffs on the door knob," Art said, holding up 
the dangling restraints with one finger.  "Did you want us to use 
them during the search?" 

"If she gives you any lip or resists, then by all means use them," 
Harry urged.  "Don't let her sass you...just get in there, strip 
her naked, and give her a good probing!"

Art smiled; he knew immediately that he was going to like his new 
boss.  "I know what I'd like to probe her sassy little mouth with," 
he commented. 

"Me, I'd prefer that tight little ass of hers!" Bart said.

"Gentlemen, you are free to 'interrogate' the criminal using any 
method or tool you wish," Harry said with a smile.  "I'm just here 
to watch."

Art and Bart didn't have to be told twice.  Sam tried to explain 
who she was when the two guards entered the room, but the goons 
soon pinned the struggling woman against the one-way mirror and 
easily stripped off her flimsy t-shirt.  Art held her face against 
the glass while Bart snapped the cuffs on her squirming wrists.

She winced in pain as the handcuffs tightened around her wrists, 
and, in the next room, Harry smiled.  Her face and bare breasts 
were pressed against the one-way mirror, and Harry playfully ran 
his fingers over the glass as if he were caressing her nipple.  
He remembered how she had slammed him against the counter less 
than an hour before, and how she had marched the humiliated 
young executive through the store like he was some sort of trophy. 

But now her face was a mask of shame and pain as she felt the 
guard undo the snap of her cut-off short-shorts.  She cried out 
in shock and humiliation when he quickly whisked her shorts and 
underpants down to her ankles.  Harry teasingly ran his finger 
over the glass just a few inches away from Sam's exposed pussy. 

"Joe Friday doesn't seem to take it as well as she dishes it out," 
Harry thought with smug satisfaction. 

As she had feared, she soon found her little feet in the cold 
stirrups.  Bart took his time, gleefully running his hands all 
over Sam's totally exposed pussy as she wiggled helplessly on 
the table like an insect caught on flypaper. 

Art found it easy to hold her throat against the table with one 
hand and unzip his fly with the other.  While Bart was searching 
her pussy with his finger, Art had decided that her oral search 
required a more specialized tool.

As Samantha took Art's rigid penis in her mouth, Harry smiled and 
left the interrogation room, satisfied that Justice Shopping Mall 
was living up to its name.  On his way out, he picked up the bottle 
of perfume that was sitting on the front desk. 

Harry only hoped that his mistress enjoyed her present as much as 
Art and Bart were enjoying theirs.

		******************************

By early afternoon, the little drama was drawing to a close.

Harry's mistress was having a wonderful time.  Not only had Harry 
given her an expensive bottle of her favorite perfume, but his 
performance in bed was truly inspired.  An exhausted Harry smiled, 
lying in bed with his eyes closed, wistfully recalling the images 
that had inspired him.

At the same time, Rufus the janitor was emptying a large container 
of trash into the huge dumpster outside the back of the mall.  He 
had swept the store that morning, since he knew that there was 
a new head of security starting the next day, and he wanted 
everything to look perfect.  His broom was so quick and efficient 
that he hadn't even noticed the small locker key that was now 
hopelessly lost in the huge dumpster.  The tiny key would be 
buried in the city landfill by evening.

Samantha's panic, lack of ID, and wild story about being a former 
FBI agent had convinced the arresting officer that the "19-year-old 
Jane Doe" needed 90 days of observation at the Babbling Brook State 
Mental Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

True, she had been angry when the doctor had refused to listen to 
her story, but she never should have kicked him...especially not 
THERE.  The enraged physician ordered the struggling girl to be 
strip-searched by four male orderlies.  The exam table at the 
asylum was even older and more uncomfortable than the one at the 
store, but the thick leather straps easily held her ankles in the 
stirrups, and the grinning orderlies took their time.

The angry doctor had refused her pleas to use the bathroom, and now 
she was sitting in a padded cell wearing nothing but a straitjacket 
and a diaper.  The lights above her head flickered on and off 
menacingly as the vengeful physician tested the electroshock 
therapy machine in preparation for "Jane Doe's first treatment."  
From the way the lights were flashing, she knew that she would get 
the maximum dose.  The horrifying light show soon triggered another 
terrifying panic attack that caused the trembling, humiliated 
woman to finally lose her battle to maintain control of her bladder.

Art and Bart sat comfortably in the video control room munching 
jelly doughnuts as they watched yet another beautiful woman strip 
off her panties.  Art recognized the fabulous babe as one of the 
local newscasters, and he cursed himself for not bringing in a new 
videotape that day.  But the thought of the fun he and Bart had had 
with that sweet college pussy was some small consolation.  And the 
look of horror on her pretty face when they hauled her sweet little 
ass off to the nut house was simply priceless.

All in all, it had been another satisfying day at the Mall of 
Justice.



Edited by C. Lakewood




 
