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