Using my Psychic Powers to Punish a Pervert

            He had been skulking around the women’s section all day.

            I saw him shuffling around the mannequins as I restocked the clothes. Before that, he had been standing outside the restrooms while I was in charge of the cash register. He would slide up to women and give them his card, for some sort of “modelling job,” and then when they were walking away, he’d take pictures of them with his phone, the biggest, smarmiest grin on his face and a grotesque bulge in the front of his pants.

            He was absolutely up to no good, which was a shame because he wasn’t bad looking in a sort of rakish, weasel-y way. He was fairly fit, and his impressive ass and equipment were both about to burst out of his jeans. His droopy, half-lidded eyelids covered sharp, dark eyes, and his full lips twisted around broad mouth.

            I should have called security, but what fun would that be?

            Instead, from across the store, I wriggled my fingers at him like I was controlling a marionette.

            He suddenly straightened in surprise as I took control. I steered his body over to the nearest mannequin, a plastic woman in a short sundress. I controlled his hands, making them slide under the mannequin’s dress and up to her plastic, conical boobs. He turned bright red in embarrassment as his fingers slid up and down the plastic and his body began to grind up against the doll’s.

            “Oh my goodness!” an old woman yelped at the sight. I grinned from my position.

            “I can’t stop myself!” the man wailed as I made him reach down and finger the plastic woman’s nonexistent pussy and nibble on her ear. The mannequin stared forward, unamused, but the old woman started shrieking.

            “Security! Security!”

            In a panic, the man tried to pull himself off the mannequin, but I held fast. With security on their way I decided this was enough foreplay and made him hike up the woman’s dress over her hips, exposing her bare plastic buns and long legs to the world. The man watched in horror as he looked down and saw his hands grip the mannequin’s hips, his legs spread, and he started violently thrusting his tented bulging package into the mannequin’s artificial ass.

            “Ow! OW! Oh my god someone help me!” the man yelped as I made him slam his dick over and over into the mannequin. His face turned red, and he sweated in panic as his poor dick, already straining against his pants, was abused against unrelenting plastic. I bit my lip and watched, incredibly, achingly aroused.

            “What the hell is this!?”

            The man and I turned and Pamela the security guard rushed over, glaring at the humping man. She was in her late thirties and built like a brick wall, not fat mind you, but all muscles and curves.

            “I can’t- I can’t help myself!” the man yelped, and I forced him to hump the mannequin’s ass even faster.

            “You disgusting piece of shit!” Pamela yelled. She swung her hand with a mighty force onto the man’s wriggling, humping ass.

            SMACKK!!

            “EeEEE!” The man squealed in terror, arching his back away from the hand, which made him drive his dick even harder into the mannequin.

            “Ohhhh” He moaned in pain and… pleasure?

            “Get your hands off that mannequin!”

            SMACCKK!

            Pamela’s hand swung again against his meaty cheeks, the sound ringing out across the store.

            “YOWWW!”   

            SMACKK!!!

            “OH GOD!”

            SMACKK!!

            I increased the tempo. He was madly humping and wriggling into the mannequin now like some kind of animal, trying to drill his dick through his pants and into the mannequin’s non-existent orifices. With each tremendous smack, his eyes rolled back, and a wave of pleasure coursed through his body, spasming from his stinging ass against his will.

            Finally, I let go right as he was about to burst and he arched his body back and drove his crotch one last time into the mannequin. His whole body pulsed as his balls emptied. In his shame he clamped his mouth closed but the humming moan through his lips was still so loud that I could hear it from across the store.

            Balls emptied, he collapsed backward onto his ass and immediately winced. The crotch of his pants was completely drenched with semen. The creamy goo had completely destroyed the front of his pants and globs were seeping through the fabric. My heart raced as I imagined the smell and the taste and his limp, abused, deflated dick in those pants.

            The man leaned back, his eyes glassy in a post orgasmic glow, but they widened with alertness when Pamela reached down into the back of his pants and grabbed the band of his underwear in her hand.

            “On your feet you pervert!” She yelled, pulling him up by his underwear in a tremendous wedgie.

            “AAIIIEEEE!” the man yelled. He gripped his poor balls in his hand as his underwear sliced upward into his ass and the front of his underwear (which appeared to be tightie whities) squashed his balls against his body like a vise.

            Pamela lifted him up and hung him by his underwear from the mannequin’s head, letting him dangle with his legs tantalizingly inches off the ground. Pamela then grabbed his semen-soaked jeans by the hips and with one swift movement yanked them off his legs and tossed them to the ground.

            The man gasped and I felt myself grin so hard my face hurt. They were tightie whities, absolutely drenched with semen, and they were yanked up into his balls with such force that each testicle was squeezed out to either side of the makeshift thong. His balls were swollen and massive and red and looked like they were in terrible, delicious pain.

            The man wriggled on the mannequin, trying to get free. “Please,” he begged, “Let me go please.”

            Pamela grinned at him. “Sorry boy, but you’re going to mall jail, and I can’t have you wearing clothes covered in cum.”

            Pamela lifted the man off the mannequin by his underwear and began to pull on his man-panties even harder.

            She was going to take his underwear off the hard way.

            “AAAIIIIEEE!” the man shrieked.

            The underwear was yanked over his head, tugged down his crotch and up his ass; his half-hard dick flopped free; his testicles were turning purple from the pressure; his face was contorted into absolute humiliating pain. Tears began to appear in the back of the briefs, flesh revealed through the ripping fabric, his meaty hairy man ass, red and swollen from his spanking, hanging out for the whole world to see.

            “Please, you can’t make me go naked,” he whimpered, the underwear shredding like paper now in Pamela’s grip.

            Pamela bounced him by his briefs.

            “Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!”

            “Don’t worry, I have a plan for that…”

            SHRRRRIPPPPP

***

            I picked up the ripped discarded briefs and put them into my purse as a memento.

            I looked at the mannequin and smiled. It was completely naked now, but it didn’t seem to mind.

            The man on the other hand, was being led away wearing nothing but the mannequin’s skimpy dress and a pair of handcuffs. It was far too small for him and as he was pulled away the dress bounced and fluttered, exposing his naked bruised ass and, under it, his dangling battered balls and his dribbling little dick.