Hillary Hagg's After School Job

Part2: Hillary’s After School Job

Three weekday evenings a week and every other weekend Hillary worked at a clothing store called Ups and Downs. Hillary absolutely hated to work, but because her mother refused to give her money to buy the things she needed to make her Renaissance Faire costume and other things she liked to make, she had to work. The job of selling clothing only paid minimum wage, but it was better than nothing at all. And right now she desperately needed cash if she was going to be able to complete the dress she was making for the prom. Tom was sure to forget all about Allison when he saw Hillary in her new creation!

The young woman leaned against an overfull clothing rack, staring into space as she always did. She was supposed to be dusting and straightening the racks, but Hillary saw no point, as they would only get messed up when customers came into the store. And besides, the manager, Sara, was out on her dinner break so it was okay for her to slack off. Smiling to herself, she thought about how she'd tricked Allison that afternoon. Everyone thought Allison was so smart; probably the smartest girl in school, so Hillary was very proud of her deception.

Serves her right! she thought, suppressing a snicker. By rights Tom should be hers. She'd bagged him long before he'd ever noticed Allison.

"Excuse me," a voice cut through Hillary's selfish thoughts. She turned to see a young woman with an armload of clothing.

"What do you want?" snapped Hillary, annoyed that the pretty young woman dared interrupt her moment of happiness. What was worse, the dress on the top of the girl's pile was the one that Hillary wanted and was the last one in her size! Because of store policy employees weren't allowed to put things on hold, and Hillary wouldn't have the cash for the dress until Friday. She'd done her best to hide it behind some particularly ugly dresses that no one even looked twice at, but this girl had apparently found it anyway.

"Do you work here?" the young woman asked.

"No, I'm just hanging around for no good reason," the young salesclerk answered snidely.

If anyone who worked with Hillary had heard her response, they wouldn't have been surprised at all. They would have known that she always worked under the principle - the customer is always wrong; although the pretty young consumer was shocked to have been answered in such a haughty manner, and was also instantly infuriated.

"Well excuse me, but I wondered as I didn't notice you doing even the slightest modicum of work since I entered the store," she snapped in return.

"That's no concern of yours, and besides most people would notice that I'm wearing a name tag," Hillary answered in her especially whiny voice that she used when she was feeling frustrated.

"Oh, let me see," the young customer answered and leaned over still holding her armload of clothing. "What's that say?" she spoke while making a big production out of peering at the nametag. "Hillassy? Or is that Whorary?"

Hillary flushed angrily, but for once held her temper…and her tongue. "Is there something I could possibly help you with?" she asked in a supercilious tone.

"Yes, there is," the girl answered in an equally snotty voice. "Is there a limit on how many items I can take into the dressing rooms?"

"No, there isn't, but you would have known that if you had taken the time to read the sign at the front counter. But I hope you're not thinking of trying on that dress on top," Hillary continued while reaching out and attempting to remove it from the customers arms.

The young woman straightened up and attempted to step back. "Oh, why is that, may I ask?"

"Because it would accentuate your already heavy looking body. In fact, if you were to wear that, I would advise you to wear a sign that says - don't attack me. I'm not Godzilla."

And Hillary again attempted to wrest the dress away, this time a little more forcefully. "Why you," the young woman sputtered and she tried to maintain hold of the dress.

It was here that Hillary made her unfortunate tactical mistake when she pulled on the dress even harder. Besides ripping the dress completely asunder, the young customer was thrown on to the floor face first.

What Hillary didn't realize at the time, the young woman, whose name was Peggy, was a black belt in Karate and booked no physical molestation from anyone, ever. Hillary was furious that the outfit had been ruined due to the customer's stubbornness and turned to her and sarcastically asked, "Ooh, did you hurt your widdle face?"

In the time it took to blink an eye Peggy was on her feet. WHAP! Her palm connected with Hillary's freckled face. "No, but you did!" hissed Peggy.

"That's it! I'm calling security!" screeched Hillary; her face turning as deep red as her cheaply dyed hair. She tried to barge past the infuriated customer, but to no avail. Peggy was too quick for Hillary and immediately twisted her into a headlock and began dragging her back toward the dressing rooms. Hillary attempted to struggle but Peggy kept her well under control.

"As it seems your manager is not around," said Peggy calmly, "I will have to be the one to teach you a lesson." And then opening the door, she shoved Hillary into the stall.

"Wh-what are you going to do?" asked Hillary, cowering into a corner.

In response Peggy said nothing but ripped off Hillary's white cotton blouse in one swift, graceful motion. Then without pausing she bent down and yanked off Hillary’s horrid square-toed platform boots that she wore with everything. An acrid smell immediately filled the enclosed area.

"Oh! That's disgusting!" growled Peggy. "Don't you know how to bathe, you filthy little beast?"

Hillary just whimpered from her corner.

Next came Hillary's pants. Peggy grabbed them by the legs and pulled, flipping Hillary upside down and cracking her head against the side of the booth. Although there was nothing inside to damage, it knocked Hillary out for a few minutes.

When the young woman awakened she found herself completely naked and alone in the dressing stall. Peggy had stripped Hillary of all clothing including her panties and bra. Her clothes were gone and all that was left of them was the pile of toilet paper, which had been stuffed into her bra (she'd used a whole roll that day!). Peeking out, Hillary saw that several customers were browsing the shop. And worse, Sara had just returned from her break with an ice cream sundae the size of Hillary's head.

Sara stopped short when she noticed the clothing strewn all over the floor, the ripped dress, and that Hillary was nowhere to be seen.

"Hillary!" bellowed Sara, startling the customers. One rather timid young woman ran from the store. Hillary, now terrified, closed the door of the stall, hoping that Sara would not look for her there. Seeing no way out of her predicament but to run, Hillary began wrapping herself in the toilet paper in an attempt to cover her flabby nakedness.

Having done the best she could, Hillary bolted out of the stall and past Sara who was so startled she dropped her ice cream. It hit the floor with a loud FLOP and sent its contents in a circular pattern around it, completely covering many articles of clothing. Unfortunately Hillary was not quick in any sense of the word. Sara reached out and grasped a handful of her nappy red hair causing the younger woman's head to snap back. Hillary lost her balance and fell backwards landing flat on her ass. The manager immediately pulled Hillary back to a standing position by her hair.

"What the HELL do you think you are doing, Hillary?" Sara barked.

Unfortunately for all bystanders the makeshift toilet paper dress veritably disintegrated around her. Hillary was too busy trying to cover her nakedness with her hands to answer Sara's question.

Sara began to push Hillary toward her office. Once in there, Sara stood at the door keeping her eyes on the customers to assure that no merchandise was stolen. Of course this meant that not only could everyone hear what Sara was saying to Hillary, but also her nakedness was still in full view. Several young men who'd been attracted by the commotion had entered the store for a quick peak, but immediately lost interest and departed when they saw how hideously ugly Hillary was.

"I don't want to know what you think you are doing, but you will no longer be doing it in my store!" said Sara. "You are not only fired, but your paycheck will be withheld in order to pay for all the merchandise you destroyed!"

"But it wasn't my fault!" whined Hillary,

"Oh please! What do you take me for, a fool?" snapped Sara. "I've seen how you expose yourself for the sake of attention. This is apparently one of your acts. Do you have a crush on one of the security guards now?"

"No! Really! It was a customer, she-"

"Enough! Get out of my store!" Sara pointed toward the exit imperiously.

Hillary looked around in panic. "But I have no clothes. I can't go out like this!"

Sara rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said in an exasperated manner. Grabbing a roll of garbage bags she tore one off and handed it to Hillary. "Here, now get OUT!"

The garbage bag was of the clear type used for security purposes in stores to prevent theft, and so did little to hide Hillary's nudity. But having no other choice, Hillary ripped a hole in the bottom of the bag for her head. Then slipping it over her head, she grabbed her handbag from Sara's desk (thank god she still had that) and ran for the exit.

Just as she was about to exit the store Hillary saw her favorite boots sitting on the clearance shoe rack. She assumed the girl must have distributed the rest of her clothes around the store, too. But Hillary didn’t bother to look. She grabbed her precious footwear and ran, praying to make it to her car without any more trouble.

But Hillary's prayer was not to be answered this day. Just moments before Hillary came tearing around the bend to pass the fountain; a child had dropped a banana peel. Not looking where she was going, Hillary stepped on it and went sliding for several yards before SPLASH! She landed face first in the fountain.

Sputtering and coughing Hillary attempted to pull herself from the water. Unfortunately she had not ripped armholes in the garbage bag, and this impeded her ability to extricate herself from the slimy water. Attempting to ignore the shouts of disgust by all the mall shoppers as she ripped the bag off herself, thereby exposing her nudity to everyone once again, Hillary tried to climb from the pool. This time she slipped on the sheet of algae growing on the floor of the fountain.

"Slut!" "Whore!" "Someone should call the police!" "How about the dog pound instead?" The insults assaulted Hillary from all around her. Tears filled her eyes and her vision began to swim. She felt just about to faint when she felt a strong arm reach out and support her. Thankful, she clung to it and allowed the person to assist her from the fountain.

Stepping up out of the pool and dripping wet, Hillary began to offer her thanks and then stopped. Leering down at her was Charles with a malicious look on his face.

Charles Reardon was the biggest, meanest, blackest security guard anyone had ever known. Having been fired from the police force for abuse of power, Charles took his mall job far too seriously. He resented having to work as a "rent-a-cop", and therefore was cold and rude to every mall employee. The owners of the mall would not fire him, however, for he was the only security guard who actually had the gall to apprehend shoplifters and so, he was able to get away with abusing his position.

"Well, well, Hillary, what are you doing running around the mall without any clothes on? I think I’ll have to call the police and have you arrested for indecent exposure." He grinned at her, his huge, muscular hand still wrapped around her elbow.

"Oh p-please don't!" cried Hillary, "It'll never happen again!" Hillary realized that because she was now eighteen she wouldn’t receive a mere slap on the wrist as she did when she was a minor. This could meanreal prison time!

"Well, I would like to believe you... but I can't just let you go. It's against mall policy. I could lose my job... so it looks like I MUST call the police."

"Oh please, Charles. Don't," she pleaded. "I'll do anything!"

"Hmmm..." He began dragging her to the mall security office. "Anything, you say?"

Pulling the naturally stunned Hilary into the office, Charles shut and then locked the door behind them. The office was simply furnished having a desk and chair and a green couch on the far wall. Upon the desk resided a two-way radio for contact with the other security guards and a telephone.

Charles proceeded to force Hillary down to her knees in front of him in the center of the room. “Suck me off,” he commanded tersely. “And you better do a good job if you want to get out of here without me calling the cops.”

The very sight of Hillary’s ugly mug usually disgusted Charles, but he was never one to overlook a pig in the poke, so to speak. He figured he could always close his eyes and imagine that it was Halle Berry who had her velvet lips wrapped around his huge Johnson.

With trembling hands, Hillary was attempting to unfasten Charles’ belt in order to pull his trousers down. It wasn’t that she minded providing the large black man with a blowjob, in fact she enjoyed giving blow jobs; particularly when it helped her get her way. Hillary was just very frightened of Charles’ mean tempered reputation. What might happen to her if she accidentally scraped him with her jagged teeth?

“Snap it up!” Charles brusquely ordered. “I ain’t got all day and besides I need to do my rounds in a minute.”

As if to emphasize his point, the large security officer pushed his trousers and boxer shorts down to the floor, liberating his massive erection, which sprang up into Hillary’s face. The stark naked, but still ugly, young woman immediately took as much of Charles’ prick as she could into her mouth. He was so large she could only take into her mouth about half of his prick and Hillary began to suckle him as quickly as possible.

“Take it all!” the large black man directed, while grabbing the back of Hillary’s head and cramming all of his eleven inches into her mouth. It was actually tickling the back of the young woman’s throat, thereby inducing her gag reflex.

Hillary began retching, while thinking,Oh please don’t make me puke. She was rather dim-witted, but even Hillary had sufficient native intelligence to realize Charles wouldn’t appreciate her barfing on him.

Thankfully, as far as the ex-salesclerk was concerned, Charles began to twitch his hips more and more in anticipation of his impending orgasm. Hillary quickly extradited her lips from his spasming penis, but not fast enough to avoid catching Charles’ massive load of cum fully in her face. For the second time that day, she was dripping with cum from her face and hair.

As he was now finished with his orgasm, Charles reached down and pulled up his trousers and boxer shorts. He completed dressing by tucking away his now wilting, but still impressive, Johnson.

“Get up!” Charles exclaimed, rudely yanking Hillary to her feet.

“You’re…you’re gonna let me go now – right?” stammered the young woman.

“No, I’m not finished with you yet, not by a long shot.”

“But you said you’d let me go,” Hillary wailed.

“Haha! Well, I lied,” Charles chortled. “Since I’m not calling the police on you, I still think you should be punished for running around the mall without any clothes on. I mean, you might take into your head to try it again later, if I allow you to skate on this.”

“Oh no, no!” Hillary protested. “I never would, this was all a mistake. It wasn’t my fault.”

“So you say now, but I don’t believe you. Now come on,” Charles ordered, snapping his regulation handcuffs around her wrists.

Pulling the still totally nude young woman back out into the mall proper, Hillary began kicking and screaming all the way. This was an unfortunate decision on her part, as it was calling attention to her plight from all over the immediate area of the mall.

Charles decided that this small crowd wasn’t large enough to witness Hillary’s humiliation on the grand scale that he desired. Unclipping his two-way communicator from his waistband, Charles flipped on the mall intercom and announced, “Attention, shoppers. A young woman has been apprehended attempting to streak through the mall naked. In order to avoid the police becoming involved, she has agreed to suffer any punishment I deign to mete out. Please join us, if you’re interested, at the front entrance to the mall.”

By the time Hillary was dragged, struggling, to the front Mall entrance, a large crowd had all ready gathered. She saw that the crowd consisted not only of pre-teenage boys, but also many faces she recognized from school… including Tabitha Pester. When Hillary saw Tabitha’s gloating face she began to sob loudly, hoping Charles would take pity on her. Unfortunately, the waterworks only managed to increase Charles’ malevolence.

Still dripping with water and cum, Hillary shivered in the cool spring evening breeze. She was trying desperately to cover her body with her arms, but to no avail. At this moment she was wishing for any covering, even the garbage bag that was now floating in the mall fountain.

Charles raised his hand for the crowd to quiet. “Quiet please! Quiet!” he bellowed in a voice that could silence the rainforest during mealtime. ”As many of you might know, this is Hillary. We have had many problems with Hillary over the past year of her working here, and this streaking incident is the last straw.”

A movement out of the corner of her eye caused Hillary to turn her head. Her stomach turned over several times when she saw the newest onlooker was the customer who’d been the cause of all her troubles. She began to cry all the harder, if that were even possible.

Charles went on, “We here at Ben Dover Memorial Mall prefer to avoid calling the police whenever possible because we think they have more important things to do than arresting little brats who think it’s fun to disturb the shopping pleasure of our patrons.” Agreeable murmurs moved through the crowd.

“So, what do you all think?” asked Charles pulling his nightstick from his belt, “Ten strokes?” Hillary’s jaw dropped.

Another small murmur of excitement emerged from the crowd.

Oh no, she thought wondering if she could make a run for it.

“Not enough? How about fifteen?”

The murmur became a small cheer. Hillary tried to protest, but her voice was lost in the growing commotion.

“How about… twenty?”

The cacophony that emerged from the small crowd would have rivaled that of any bar on Super Bowl Sunday.

Charles laughed heartily. “Twenty it is!” He grasped Hillary around the waist, turned her so her fat ass was facing the crowd and bent her over.

When the wood bat made connection with her dimply, cottage cheese bottom Hillary screamed, but her scream was drowned out by the crowd calling out “ONE!”

CRACK! The nightstick slammed into Hillary’s ass again. She screeched.

“Two!” the crowd screamed out.

Charles was merciless, giving Hillary no time between swats to catch her breath.

SMACK!

“THREE!”

WHAP!

“FOUR!”

SWAP!

“FIVE!”

By the time Hillary had received the fifth stroke she was choking on her own tears. By the time the nineteenth stroke came Hillary’s legs had given out on her and she was hanging limply in Charles’ massive arm.

WHAM!

“TWENTY!” screamed the crowd, going absolutely wild.

Not wanting to touch Hillary for any longer than he had to, Charles dropped Hillary to the sidewalk like a sack of refuse. She landed with a loud SPLAT. This time she didn’t even bother to scream. The pain of her abused ass was overwhelming, and she wondered if any of the welts had begun to bleed.