The fluorescent lights of Quick Mart hum above me like the soundtrack to purgatory, buzzing just enough to keep me from forgetting I'm trapped in retail hell. It's 2 AM, that perfect dead zone when the night owls have nested and the early birds haven't stirred. I'm once again arranging energy drinks into a perfect pyramid when the electronic chime announces a customer.
"Hey there, Daniel," Holly's voice slides across the empty store, honey-sweet and just as sticky.
I finally turn, my stomach dropping as I take her in. She's wearing gray sweatpants and a loose long-sleeve shirt that hangs off one shoulder, dressed for bed, but her eyes are electric with awareness, calculating behind those wire-rimmed glasses. Her brown hair falls loose around her shoulders instead of its usual ponytail, making her look almost innocent. Almost.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, setting down the can I've been clutching like a lifeline. "It's the middle of the night."
"Couldn't sleep," she shrugs, wandering deeper into the store like she owns the place. Her fingers trail along the shelves, disrupting my perfectly aligned products. "Thought I'd see what keeps you busy all night."
"That sucks," I mutter, watching her warily as she circles the store. "Insomnia's rough."
Holly's attention drifts upward, her eyes scanning the ceiling until they land on the black dome above the register. "Huh, only one camera? Right above the register?" She points at it, her sleeve sliding down to reveal more of her shoulder.
"No, there's actually tiny ones all over the place," I lie, desperately hoping to deter whatever she's planning. "Management's paranoid about theft."
Holly's eyes meet mine, a knowing smile playing at her lips. "No, there's not, Daniel." The way she says my name makes my skin crawl. "I did my research before coming here."
Before I can respond, she's moving again, this time with purpose. She pushes through the door marked "Employees Only" like she belongs there, disappearing into the back room.
"Hey, wait!" I call after her, panic rising in my chest. "You can't go back there!"
I rush to follow her, my heart hammering against my ribs. When I push through the door, the sight that greets me stops me dead in my tracks.
Holly stands facing the wall, her sweatpants pooled around her ankles. She's arching her back, pushing her exposed ass toward me while bracing herself against the wall with both hands. She glances over her shoulder.
"Well, come on in," she purrs, "the water's warm."
My stomach lurches violently. "What the hell are you doing?" I hiss, quickly scanning the room for any security cameras. There aren't any back here, one small mercy in this nightmare.
"Isn't it obvious?" Holly wiggles her hips slightly. "I'm offering you a little workplace excitement."
I back up until I hit the door frame, my hand fumbling behind me for the handle. "Get dressed. Now. I could lose my job."
"You could lose a lot more than that," she counters, straightening up but making no move to pull up her pants. "Remember our little arrangement? The video?"
The threat is loud and clear, heavy and suffocating. I close my eyes briefly, trying to steady my breathing. When I open them again, Holly's expression has softened into something almost sympathetic.
"Look," she says, her voice gentler than before, "I'm not trying to be cruel. I just want you."
"This isn't wanting someone," I say, my voice shaking with anger. "This is owning them."
Holly tilts her head, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "That's actually a good way of looking at it," she says, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Ownership. Possession."
She turns back toward the wall, placing her hands against it again. Her hips begin to sway hypnotically, the movement deliberate and calculated.
"If you're not inside me by the time I count to five," she says, each word precise, "I'll make that video go viral before your shift ends."
My throat tightens. "Holly, please," I whisper, desperation clawing at my insides. "Not here. Not like this."
"One..." she begins, her voice sing-song and terrifying.
I glance frantically toward the door leading back to the store. What if a customer walks in?
"Two..." Holly continues, her movements becoming more exaggerated.
"This isn't right," I say, my voice cracking.
She pauses her counting to look over her shoulder again, eyes cold behind those wire-rimmed glasses. "Right and wrong don't matter anymore. Only power does." She turns back to the wall. "Three..."
My hands shake as panic floods my system. I'm trapped in an impossible choice, my dignity or my future. I think of Emily, of how this betrayal would crush her if she ever found out. But if Holly releases that video, I'll lose Emily anyway, along with everything else.
"Four..." Holly's voice hardens, all pretense of playfulness gone.
"Fi…"
I lunge forward in blind panic, hands fumbling with my zipper as I cross the small storage room in three desperate strides. My fingers tremble violently as I free myself from my uniform pants.
"Please," I whisper, the word catching in my throat as I position myself behind her, "don't do this to me."
But my body betrays me as I push forward, entering her with a single thrust that makes me gasp. The sensation is overwhelming, she's impossibly tight, almost painfully so, and I wince as I sink deeper. My hands hover awkwardly at her hips, not wanting to touch her but needing to steady myself.
"Mmmm," Holly purrs, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she pushes back against me. "My mom was right about you after all. Such a good, obedient boy."
Her words send an involuntary shudder through me, a twisted response I despise myself for. My stomach churns with self-loathing even as my body responds to the stimulation.
"I hate you," I choke out, the words raw and honest, torn from somewhere deep inside me.
Holly laughs, the sound bouncing off the cramped storeroom walls. Her body shakes with it, tightening around me in a way that makes my vision blur.
"Hate me all you want," Holly says, her voice sharp as a razor, "but if you don't start moving soon, I'm going to get very angry. And you don't want that, do you?"
The threat hangs in the air between us. I close my eyes, trying to disconnect from this moment, from my body, from what's happening. With shaking hands, I finally grip her hips and begin thrusting, each movement mechanical and forced. I hate how my body responds to the physical sensation despite the revulsion churning in my gut.
A moan builds in my throat, unbidden and unwanted. I clamp my teeth together, swallowing the sound before it can escape.
"How does it feel?" Holly purrs, her voice dripping with malice. "Using my tight, young pussy instead of my mom's used-up, cum-drenched whore hole?"
The words hit me like a physical blow. A confusing storm of emotions crashes through me, rage at how she talks about Emily, the woman I love, mixed with a shameful throbbing of my cock at the crude comparison.
Holly sighs dramatically and glances back over her shoulder, disappointment evident in her expression.
"Seriously? You're getting harder when I'm insulting your precious girlfriend for selling her body?" Her voice drips with disdain. "That's messed up, Daniel."
"I love her," I blurt out, the words escaping before I can stop them. My voice cracks with emotion, raw and desperate. "I love Emily. This doesn't change that."
Something flickers across Holly's face, surprise, maybe, or disgust, before she pushes back against me, matching my reluctant thrusts with her own eager movements. Her eyes roll back slightly, pleasure overtaking her calculated cruelty for just a moment.
"You're such a fucking cuck," she breathes, the insult somehow sounding like praise on her lips. "Getting turned on thinking about your girlfriend with other men while you're inside her daughter."
Her inner muscles clench around me suddenly, a deliberate squeeze that sends an electric current up my spine. I can't hold back the groan that escapes my lips, the sound echoing in the small storage room despite my best efforts to stay silent.
Holly's eyes light up at my involuntary response, her lips curving into a victorious smile that somehow looks... tender? She reaches back with one hand, her fingers brushing my cheek with unexpected gentleness.
"That's it," she whispers, her voice softer now, almost caring. "Let me hear you, Daniel. You sound so beautiful when you're breaking."
My chest tightens with confusion at her sudden shift in tone. The cruelty is still there in her words, but wrapped in a bizarre tenderness that's somehow more disturbing than her outright malice.
"I bet she never tells you how pretty you look when you're vulnerable," Holly continues, her thumb tracing my lower lip with delicate precision. "How your eyes get all glossy and lost."
She tightens around me again, a rhythmic pulsing that makes my knees weak. My breathing becomes ragged as I fight the building pleasure.
"You're doing so well," she praises. "Such a good boy, letting me use you like this."
Her words of praise hit me like a physical blow, seeping into cracks I didn't know existed in my armor. My body responds before my mind can catch up, my hips snapping forward with renewed vigor, each thrust harder and faster than the last. It's like she's found some hidden button inside me, some desperate need for validation I've been trying to bury.
"Oh my," Holly gasps. "That's it, that's exactly what I need."
"You like being told you're good, don't you?" she purrs, pushing back to meet each thrust. "You're so desperate for someone to tell you you're doing well."
Holly's words strike deeper than I want to admit. My hands tighten on her hips as something primal takes over, driving me to thrust harder, faster, chasing a release I shouldn't want.
Suddenly, her body tenses. A tremor runs through her, starting at her core and rippling outward.
"Oh god, Daniel!" she cries out, her voice stripped of calculation and control. "I'm cumming, I'm…"
Her words dissolve into breathless moans as she convulses around me, her inner walls gripping me in rhythmic pulses. She throws her head back, hair cascading down her arched spine as she rides the wave of her orgasm.
I keep thrusting mechanically, watching her come undone with a confusing mix of disgust and fascination. Her body shudders with aftershocks, vulnerable in a way I've never seen her before. She glances back over her shoulder, cheeks flushed and glasses slightly askew, lips parted as she pants through the remnants of her pleasure.
When her breathing finally steadies and her trembling subsides, I stop moving. I'm still hard inside her, but the thought of finishing makes me sick. I begin to pull away, desperate to end this violation.
"Keep going," Holly says, her voice husky but regaining its edge. "You didn't finish."
I meet her gaze, and something in her eyes has changed. The momentary vulnerability has vanished completely, replaced by that familiar cold calculation.
"I don't want to," I whisper, my voice breaking on the admission.
"That wasn't a request," she replies, her tone flat and emotionless. "Finish what you started."
My stomach churns as I realize she wants to take even this from me, the small dignity of refusing to complete the act. I close my eyes, trying to disconnect from what's happening as I resume thrusting.
"Look at me while you do it," she commands, twisting further to maintain eye contact. "I want to see your face when you cum."
I force my eyes open, meeting her glacial stare. There's no warmth there, no real desire, just the satisfaction of control.
"Stop being such a fucking pussy, Daniel," she hisses through clenched teeth, her eyes flashing with frustration behind those wire-rimmed glasses. "Take out all of your anger on my pussy, for god's sake."
Something inside me snaps. The humiliation, the violation, the helplessness, it all crystallizes into pure, blinding rage. My hands grip her hips with bruising force as I slam into her, channeling every ounce of hatred and resentment I've been suppressing.
"Yes!" Holly cries out, her voice breaking with genuine pleasure. "That's it, Daniel. Show me how passionate you are with your hate for me."
I pound into her relentlessly, my breath coming in ragged gasps as sweat drips down my forehead. Each thrust is a declaration, an act of defiance even as I'm forced to comply. The storage room fills with the obscene sound of loud skin slapping against skin, our harsh breathing, her moans of delight.
"I really do hate you so much, Holly," I growl, the words torn from somewhere deep and primal inside me.
Her body responds to my confession, tightening around me as she pushes back to meet each brutal thrust. There's something twisted in the way she welcomes my hatred, feeds on it, transforms it into her own pleasure.
The pressure builds at the base of my spine, unstoppable and overwhelming. I try to fight it, to deny her this final victory, but my body betrays me one last time. The sensation crashes through me without warning, intense and unwanted.
I say nothing, just whimper pathetically as I empty myself inside her, my hips jerking involuntarily. My vision blurs at the edges, shame and release mingling into a toxic cocktail that leaves me dizzy and hollow.
Holly sighs with satisfaction, her body milking me through it all. When the last pulses subside, she steps away, leaving me exposed and vulnerable in the harsh fluorescent light. I stumble backward, nearly tripping over my uniform pants as I struggle to cover myself.
"See?" she says, pulling up her sweatpants with casual ease. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
I can't meet her eyes as I tuck myself away, fingers fumbling with my zipper. "You don't get to ask me that."
Holly smirks, adjusting her glasses with that precise. She smooths her hair with both hands, transforming back into the perfect student, erasing all evidence of what just happened between us.
"I don't?" she asks, eyebrow arched in mock surprise. "I think I get to ask you whatever I want, Daniel. That's how this works now."
"How long are you going to keep this up?" My hands shake as I tuck in my shirt, trying to put myself back together.
"Until I reach my goal," she says simply, as if that explains everything.
"What's your…"
The chime at the front of the store cuts through our conversation like a knife, making us both freeze. For one terrifying moment, I think it might be Emily, coming to surprise me on my shift, walking into this nightmare.
"The Swanks has landed!"