Make her call her boyfriend
From Create Your Own Story
"Hey...get your cellphone from your pocket." You say it lightly, trying not to betray the evil you have in store for her. But she's immediately alarmed.
"Why?!" She almost turns her head towards you, but freezes when you force the back of the blade against her neck, bending her head against your shoulders. You sigh despairingly.
"Did I. Fucking. Give you. Permission. To. Talk. Back?" All she does in response is cry. You position the point of the blade under her chin. "Answer me, whore."
"N...no."
"Then bend the fuck over and get your phone. If you try anything, I'll fucking kill you. Understand?" You press your lips quickly to her face with a noncommittal "mwah" and push her forwards. Her dark legs stumble forward, and she catches herself against the mirror. You can't help but enjoy the way her legs bend slightly as she tries to regain her balance. Accents her ass wonderfully. You slap it, and she yelps. But she knows better than to tell you to stop. It takes a bit of willpower not to keep spanking her ass, and you find yourself remembering that you kept a dildo in your purse.
Monica looks down desperately, and, spotting a pair of jean shorts on the ground, bends over to pick them up. They're low-cut, and your mind wanders as you stare at her the smooth curve of her ass raised in the air. "I bet those make your ass look amazing," you purr. She freezes as she senses you moving forward. She gasps as you place the cold, flat steel of the switchblade against her buttocks. The silver glows against the darkness of her skin.
"Answer me."
She turns her head slightly looks up at you with her doe-eyes, reddened from all the crying. "I-I look..." She can't bring herself to say it, and you give her ass a smack to encourage her. Her flesh ripples against the impact. "I look good!" Her head is down again, and her tears wet the clothing at her feet.
The cellphone is in her hands, and you press the blade against her ass again. "Don't get up. Call your boyfriend and ask him what he thinks."
"No!" She reflexive throws her head back up, looking towards you, begging for leniency. But you're not tolerating disobedience. You strike her ass once more, this time to cause pain, and her back arches as she buries her under her arms. But you're not done. You strike her again, and again, and again. To her credit, she doesn't scream, only whimpers with each smack. You love the way her skin spreads against your fingers with each impact.
Suddenly, you're alert to a voice behind the curtains. "Ma'am, is everything okay?" One of the retail workers. You press the blade insistently against the girl's ass. The message is pretty clear. Her head peeks out from under her arms.
"I...I just dropped some hangars! S-sorry!" You listen for the footsteps of the retail worker leaving, and, satisfied, you point the knife at Monica once more.
"Make. The. Call. And if you call the cops, I swear to fucking Satan-"
"Okay! Okay." She picks up her phone, and, with both thumbs, she dials a number. It's hard to see past the strands of her fuzzy hair fallen over her face, but it's more than three digits, so you think you're okay. She's sniveling while waiting for a response on the other end.
"Damien? Yeah, it's me..." She looks up at you in frightened askance. You point your free hand at your head and make a "Did you forget?" gesture.
"Listen...how do you think my...my butt looks in these shorts?" Monica asks. You motion for her to put the phone on speaker.
His voice crackles from her phone. "Monica, what the fuck? Look, are you okay? Some crazy bitch walked into the store and-"
You roll your eyes. "Fuck off, asshole. She's with me now. Ask her who she belongs to." You smirk, and bend over to whisper into Monica's ear: "My name's Sharon."
Monica trembles. "I'm, I'm with Sharon now. Please..."
The voice on the other end shouts back "Look, Monica, I don't know what she did to you but-"
This is getting boring. You decide to make things more interesting.
