"Jingle Bell Heist" with Madison Iseman and Olivia Holt

[TheLW]

Jingle Bell Heist
With Madison Iseman and Olivia Holt
Written by TheLW
Codes: MF, Blowjob, Facial, Reluctant, Sex Toy
Disclaimer: This FICTIONAL story was written for entertainment purposes only.

The mall always felt louder in December. Carols leaked from ceiling speakers, kids shrieked at the sight of the animatronic reindeer, and every corridor pulsed with the frantic cheer that came from last-minute shopping. Noah Brinley walked his usual patrol route with a thermos of cooling coffee in one hand and a quiet sense of vigilance in the back of his mind. After five years working security at Westview Galleria, he’d learned to read the crowd the way a lifeguard reads shifting tides.

He noticed the two women before he recognized them. They moved through the jewelry department with a kind of easy confidence, the kind people wear when they assume the world won’t touch them. Madison drifted closest to the glass display, leaning in to admire the sparkle of the higher-end pieces. Olivia lingered a half-step behind her, tapping lightly on her phone, her gaze flicking up every few seconds to scan the area.

Noah slowed.

The next moment unfolded with quiet precision. Madison’s hand hovered over a velvet-lined tray, her fingers brushing a bracelet composed of slender gold links. Then, as if she were simply smoothing her hair or adjusting her scarf, she palmed the bracelet and slid it neatly into her purse. The motion was clean, clear enough that most eyes would have missed it.

Noah didn’t.

He let a few seconds pass, just enough to confirm what he’d seen. When Madison and Olivia began drifting toward the escalators, he stepped forward, intercepting them with steady footing and a tone that allowed no misunderstanding.

“Ladies,” he said, “I’m going to need you to come with me.”

Madison’s face tightened. Olivia blinked at him with startled confusion, whether real or performed, Noah couldn’t tell. But the seriousness in his eyes sent a ripple of understanding through them both. Madison closed her purse slowly, and the two followed him toward the service corridor, away from the holiday mania.

The shift from bright mall décor to the back hallway always felt abrupt. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, washing the cement floors in a tired, bluish glow. Noah led them to the security office, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The small room held a desk, two chairs, and a monitor wall displaying grainy camera feeds. It wasn’t glamorous, but it served its purpose.

He gestured for them to sit. They didn’t.

“Empty the purse,” he said.

Madison hesitated just long enough to confirm guilt. Then she reached inside and placed the bracelet on the desk. Its gold links looked strangely out of place against the scratched laminate surface.

Noah sat, hands folded. “You know what this is,” he said. “I’m obligated to report theft. That means contacting the police.”

The reaction landed instantly. Madison inhaled sharply, Olivia stepped forward, palms out. “Please,” she said. “We’re begging you not to do that. This... this could ruin everything for us.”

Madison found her voice, lower and shakier. “We can pay for it. The full price. Twice the price. Whatever the store wants.”

“That’s not how this works.” Noah’s tone remained calm, but immovable. “Shoplifting isn’t something you undo with a receipt after the fact.”

Olivia shook her head, fighting panic. “You don’t understand. Our careers, our reputations, if the police get involved, the story spreads everywhere. One arrest, and it follows us for years. Please. We’re not asking for a free pass. We’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

Noah leaned back in his chair. He had heard variations of the same plea many times, but desperation carried a different kind of weight when it came from people used to being untouchable. The two women stood close together, unified by fear, their holiday flair long gone.

“The problem,” he said carefully, “is that if I let one theft slide, the next person expects the same. And the next. The rules don’t bend depending on who someone is or what they stand to lose.”

Madison’s eyes burned with frustration, at herself, at the situation, at him. “We made a mistake,” she said. “A stupid one. You have to understand we’re not criminals.”

“People who steal things,” Noah replied, “are people who steal things. That doesn’t make you monsters, but it doesn’t make this vanish either.”

Silence stretched across the room. Outside the office, faint music drifted through the walls, some cheerful, upbeat version of a classic carol that didn’t fit the tension hanging between the three of them.

The bracelet lay on the desk, shining under the fluorescent light, small and deceptively innocent. The entire incident hinged on that sliver of gold and the decision Noah was about to make.

Olivia’s anxiety sharpened by the minute. She paced the narrow space between the chairs, fingers twisting at the ends of her sleeves, breath coming too quick. Every few steps she glanced at the bracelet on the desk as if it might suddenly explode and take their careers with it.

Madison, by contrast, held herself much more tightly in place. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, jaw set in a way that made her look stubborn rather than afraid. The fear was there, Noah could see it in the way her foot tapped against the floor, but she worked hard to keep it contained.

Olivia wasn’t containing anything.

“This can’t happen,” she muttered. Her voice shook. “It really can’t happen. My manager will drop me. My publicist will have a meltdown. I’ll never get cast in anything again.” She pressed the heels of her hands into her forehead, as though she could push the panic back inside by force. “Please, please, there has to be a way.”

Madison shot her a warning look. “Liv. Breathe.”

“I am breathing,” Olivia snapped, though she obviously wasn’t. She turned on Noah again. “You don’t need to do this. You saw us, you know we’re not dangerous. We’re not violent. We just messed up. One stupid mistake. There are people out there doing far worse things. Why ruin two lives over one bracelet?”

Madison straightened a little. “She’s right. You don’t have to escalate this.”

“That’s not the point,” Noah said.

Olivia let out a choked sound, not quite a sob, but close. She sank into one of the chairs, elbows on her knees, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles whitened. She looked smaller now, the polished confidence she’d worn in the mall completely shattered.

“I can’t get arrested,” she whispered. “I really can’t. I’ll never recover from that. I’ll be the punchline of every late-night show for a year. My parents will freak out. My agent will freak out. Everyone will freak out.” Her voice rose again, cracking under the strain. “Please, Noah. I’m begging you. Don’t call the cops. Don’t do this to us.”

Madison stepped forward, placing a steadying hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “We’ll make it right,” she said, softer now. “Tell us what you want. We’ll fix it.”

Noah watched them both, Madison holding herself together through sheer force of will, Olivia unraveling with every passing second. He’d dealt with panic before. Most shoplifters went quiet or angry, but raw fear like this was less common.

The phone on his desk sat there like a verdict waiting to be carried out. His job was simple, follow protocol. But the human part of him couldn’t entirely ignore the turmoil unfolding in front of him.

“There’s still a process,” he said carefully. “Even if I don’t call the police, this doesn’t just disappear.”

Olivia flinched like he’d struck her. “Please don’t call them,” she repeated, voice barely holding together.

Noah expected more pleading. Instead, Madison tilted her head, watching him as if seeing something new under his skin. “When I said we’d do anything,” she said, steady and low, “I meant it. Anything.”

He’d been here before, an angry soccer mom, a sunburned old man who “accidentally” threw a bottle of whiskey in the wrong bag, a frantic teenager offering concert tickets with wet, terrified eyes. But this was new. He stared at Madison, at the set of her mouth, the steel behind her desperation.

Madison let her arms fall at her sides. “What will it take?” she asked, quieter now, staring him down like she dared him to speak aloud the ugly transaction that hummed between the three of them.

Noah found himself locked in a humming current, months of locker-room talk about “hot mall thieves” and bored trophy wives spiraling to life in this fluorescent corner. He knew the lines, never negotiate, never barter, keep it professional, but the scenario bristled with a charge he hadn’t felt in years.

Olivia noticed the shift, too. She straightened, and glanced from Noah to Madison with something that looked almost like relief. Maybe she could see the wire stretching taut between her friend and the security guard. Maybe she didn’t care, so long as it didn’t end in handcuffs and headlines.

“If you want a blowjob,” she said, the words landing heavy and certain, “I’ll do that. If that’s what it takes to make this go away.” No waver in her voice. She’d already made her calculation. He could see her running the numbers, cost versus consequence, and not finding the equation as dirty as the alternative.

He studied Madison’s face, waiting for the flinch of regret or irony, but her eyes didn’t flicker. They only tracked his, still measuring. The silence was so thick he could hear the hush of the mall through the wall, the faint melody of a holiday song winding back on itself.

Beside her, Olivia’s mouth hung open for a second before she shut it, cheeks mottled red. Noah expected tears, screaming, maybe a dramatic storm-out, but Olivia only stilled, gaze flicking from Madison to Noah.

“You’re serious,” he said.

“I’m dead serious,” Madison said. Then her lips clamped in a line, as if she’d handed herself to him, gift-wrapped, and couldn’t yank the ribbon back.

Noah let the moment fester, feeling the backbeat in his throat. If they wanted to make this ugly, he’d show them where ugly lived. He kept his gaze on Madison, waiting for her to blink or sweat or grovel, but she stood her ground, chin jutted, the very profile of a woman used to men folding for her. Olivia, by contrast, looked like she might puke: her face gone flat and slightly green, her mouth pressed so taut she barely seemed alive.

“You made the offer,” he said, “but if I’m going to play along, it’s not you I want.”

Olivia recoiled, like he’d slapped her. “Me?” Her voice was mouse-quiet, yet the echo of it bounced off the cinderblock walls.

“Liv...” Madison started, but Olivia cut her a look, acid quick.

“No, I want to hear him say it,” Olivia whispered, eyes glassy. “You want...?”

Noah pushed his chair back just enough to expose space between his legs. He didn’t look at the security monitors, he didn’t need to, he’d locked the door himself, but instead kept his eyes on Olivia, who stared at the floor like it might split and swallow her. Madison said nothing, though her nostrils flared and her hands worked at her purse strap, careful and slow.

“You want this to go away,” Noah said, and was almost unnerved at the gravel under his own voice. “It’s that simple?”

Olivia swallowed hard, then nodded, once, not trusting herself with breath. She moved like she was hypnotized, sinking to her knees below the battered desk, the holiday red and green of her blouse flooding under the desk with her as she positioned herself in front of him. There was nothing sexy in the way she moved, it was the choreography of surrender, a body desperate just to be somewhere else, or no place at all.

Noah sat still, hands folded, eyes trained on the curve of Olivia’s back as she knelt. She fumbled at his belt, the security-radio holster clinking against the edge of the desk. His slacks were cheap polyester, and the noise echoed off the walls as she struggled with the button, the zipper. Once she’d opened him, her hands hovered, only for a second, before she eased his cock from the fly, thickening already in her grip.

He watched every step of her, the tremble in her knuckles, the wet shine at the corners of her eyes as she lined herself up. Her mouth, when it closed over him, was tense and too warm, breath coming ragged from her nose. There was nothing practiced about it. She gagged early, coughed, then braced her hands against his knees for support.

Noah wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Maybe some rehearsed, movie-star performance, a hundred-watt smile and a head bobbed for applause from the tabloids. Instead there was this red-eyed, trembling, fully human girl, gagging half a cock length in, fighting to keep her teeth out of play, barely able to breathe around the salt taste and the panic.

The first time she choked, she made a muffled squeak that might have been a cry. She pulled off, wiping her mouth, breathing hard. Noah didn’t move, didn’t offer help or apology, just waited for her decision. After a second, she plunged back in, more determined. She seemed to find a rhythm, shallow and fast, her fingers curled hard enough on his thighs that he could feel the nails through the polyester. Her mascara had started to run, twin black rivers under her eyes, and her cheeks shone slick and furious above his lap.

He sensed Madison watching, the sharp hush of her breathing. She didn’t plead or threaten. She made no sound.

Olivia took him in with both hands, spit and mascara streaking her face. She gagged again and just pressed the heel of her hand harder into his thigh, holding herself steady. Her other hand found his, and he let her guide it to the back of her head. The hair was soft and fine under his palm. He didn’t push, he just let the weight of it rest there, a counterweight to the tremble in her shoulders. For some reason, that part hit him the hardest.

For a few seconds he watched the security monitor, seeing empty aisles and wandering Santas, normal life stewing on the other side of the cinder blocks. In this room, the air was hot and crowded, and every measured breath from Olivia came up through his hips. She pulled off again, then glanced up not at him, but at Madison.

Madison whispered, “Liv, oh god, I’m so..." but then she broke off. She knelt next to Olivia, reached for her, like maybe she was going to steady her friend, but her hands hovered short of skin. There was nothing for her to do. She just watched, every muscle in her face pinched up tight, eyes red, wet. “I’m sorry,” she said, and this time the words came out sticky with snot and defeat. “Liv, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Olivia only heard half of what Madison said, but her own mouth was already moving, swallowing another inch of Noah's cock. Her hair brushed Noah’s knuckles as she let him rest his hand there, not guiding, not forcing, but a soft, authoritative weight. She worked through the dry burn in her throat and the sting of humiliation, focusing on the simple mechanical task, open, close, breathe, repeat. Each time she gagged she just bore down harder, chasing the moment when he’d finish and the worst of it would be over.

Noah watched the top of her head, watched the red and green, watched her hands splay on his thigh for leverage. She’d gotten past the panic now, powered by some grim endurance he recognized from his own moments of humiliation. She went deep, eyes squeezing shut, and retched a little, hung on, took a ragged breath through her nose. Wet noises filled the room, obscene and louder than seemed possible. Each time she pulled back, more spit clung to his cock, smeared on her chin, webbing from her lips to the dark head. She never looked at him, not really, just kept her eyes on the bottom edge of the desk.

He let Olivia keep at it, the awkward, persistent rhythm, the small humiliations, but let his left hand drift to the top drawer of the desk. He thumbed it open. The drawer was a mess of paperwork and lost-and-found junk, keys, half a vape, an old phone. But at the back was the bright pink toy he’d confiscated from an employee shoplifter a month ago, something he'd meant to log as evidence but somehow never had, too embarrassed or maybe too curious. The neon silicone looked almost innocent under the sterile lights.

Noah plucked it out and held it up.

Madison’s focus locked onto it instantly. Noah waited, savoring the cold branch of tension that crept up from his stomach to the root of his spine as the implication dawned on Madison, slow and inevitable as a car crash.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. His voice felt different inside his head, gritted down to something animal. “You’re going to take this out. You’re going to use it,” he paused, let the silence grow claws “...right in front of me. Or I call the police, and we do things by the book after all.”

He held the thing out towards Madison, rubbery and hot pink, as if he might drop it to the floor if she didn’t claim it. Madison didn’t move at first, only stared at the office toy the way a person would stare at a snake. Olivia, on her knees, still had his cock in her mouth, but her gaze ticked sideways to the trembling silhouette of her friend.

“Your turn,” he said, voice flat, hand still resting on the crown of Olivia’s head. “Take off your pants.”

The words hung in the air, hard as any shouted order. For a moment, Madison just stared at him, assessing, maybe, or just hoping she’d misunderstood. But his expression didn’t budge, and neither did the subtle pressure on Olivia’s head. Outside the cinderblock cocoon, the mall’s soundtrack swelled a little louder, and then it was just the three of them again, suspended in this shit aquarium of humiliation.

Madison’s hands found the clasp at her hip. She unbuttoned, then unzipped, peeling her fitted holiday slacks past the cabled muscle of her thighs with the careful, deliberate motion of a woman who had learned long ago how to reveal herself on her own terms. The pants bunched at her knees. She shrugged them down, exposing black lace and pale, goose-pimpled skin.

Liv’s mouth worked at him, spit-slick, the wet noises climbing in time with his own adrenaline. All the rules about professional distance, about never enjoying your work, burned up inside of him. He couldn’t look away.

He watched Madison drop her free hand between her legs, covering herself from sight. She shifted her stance, leaning with her hip against the desk and letting her sweater hang low, then she slipped the pink toy down and pressed it between her thighs. He couldn't see the point of contact, but the way her hand flexed made it clear when the first buzz rattled through her.

Madison's fingers flexed, knuckles whitening around the plastic while her other fist braced against the desk. She angled her hips so the hem of the sweater shielded most of the movement, but the thrum carried through the floor, a faint vibration just audible enough. The way she held one corner of the table, gripping hard enough to color the skin at her wrist, told Noah she’d set it to max.

He didn’t expect Olivia to adapt. But she did. Maybe humiliation could be metabolized as fuel, or maybe pure survival still lived under the skin, but the longer she knelt in front of him, the less she looked like prey. The next time she sank her mouth down, she didn’t gag. She pushed herself harder, set her own pace, letting the wet pop of her lips and the barbaric trails of spit drag all the way down his shaft. She worked at him, licking the underside, tongue-tip scraping along the nerves. Her eyes stayed locked on a shadow under the desk, focusing herself on anything but what she was doing, but her hands braced hard at the root, and her jaw worked with a rough, determined rhythm.

Noah felt the change before he could name it; she started sucking in longer drags, not trying to impress or perform, just chasing a finish line. The sobs and shuddering had gone, replaced by a kind of mechanical drive, hook a thumb around his base, flatten her tongue, and milk him like it was her job. Maybe, in this moment, it was.

He pulled in a breath, fighting the urge to force her pace, to seize the back of her head like every sick porno he'd ever fast-forwarded through as a teenager, then realized she’d probably call his bluff if he tried.

Across the desk, Madison had turned away from him, mostly. Her face painted in angles and profile, lips compressed to a hard, colorless line. Shoulders shivering, she angled her hips back, pressing the toy harder into herself as if she wanted to grind it into dust. Noah stared at the way her knuckles rippled as she worked the toy, then at the line of her calf twitching with each pulse of vibration.

He held Madison’s gaze until she looked away. Then he curled his hand under Olivia’s chin and pulled her off his cock. She gasped, spit trailing from the corner of her mouth as she wiped it with the back of her trembling hand. Mascara pooled dark under her eyes, a Rorschach of regret and humiliation.

“Up,” he said to her, low and final.

Olivia lurched upright, one hand on the desk to steady herself. She didn’t move, waiting for his next order.

“Bend over,” he said, and Olivia, after a stuttering second, obeyed. She turned, planted her palms on the edge of the desk, and folded at the waist, her thin frame tense as a wire. The hem of her skirt rode up, exposing the faint outlines of her underwear beneath. She tried to tuck her chin, but the back of her neck glowed scarlet, a heat rising off her in waves.

He ran a finger along the crease at the top of her thigh, tracing the elastic line. She flinched hard at the touch, nearly biting through her lower lip. Madison moved beside them, slow and soundless, hands clamped in front of her as if she didn’t trust them to stay put.

Noah hooked two fingers under the waistband and slid her panties down, then lower, baring her without ceremony. The chill of the room prickled gooseflesh up her thighs. Liv didn’t flinch, she just steadied herself, eyes blazing a thousand yards straight ahead.

He took a long moment and just looked. Olivia was small, almost breakable, but the way she bore herself said she’d been here before, maybe not like this, maybe not with her face streaked and her career on the line. Madison stood inches away, watching as he exposed her friend, the line of her jaw set and almost angry.

A few moments later, Noah pressed the head of his cock to her entrance and slid in, slow at first, careful not to miss the sharp gasp she loosed against the desktop. Olivia was the muscles clamping hard enough he had to pause and angle himself right, but her body opened with each inch. He braced his hips and pushed deeper. At the first intrusion, Olivia jolted, as a wild, quick breath rattled out of her.

He paused at the threshold, letting her catch up, then angled his hips and fed another inch inside. The heat of her greeted him, slick and paradoxically hot, nothing like the desperate clamp of her mouth. He pressed forward in small increments, feeling her body edge open, his own heartbeat hammering in his chest. Could barely believe he was doing this, the mundane stink of the office, the cinderblock walls, the cramped desk, and now her. Bent for him, letting him breach her as if it was just another consequence of a bad day.

Noah braced his weight on the desk. Her body quaked under his hands but didn’t try to escape him. He moved slowly, deliberately, giving her time to adjust to his size. Each inch he sunk inside, the desk rattled just barely, the laminated surface trembling beneath her arms. Somewhere behind him, the security monitor blinked a lazy red at the top of the frame, recording, maybe, or just a glitch, but there was no one watching except the three of them.

It wasn’t the cold logic of punishment anymore. It was compulsive, animalistic and immediate. He ground his hips slowly against her, watching the ripple it sent through her spine, the way she gripped the edge of the desk like it might save her from being pulled under.

Meanwhile as this wanton action took place, Madison Iseman continued to use the pink vibrator over her clit, as her pussy juice glistening the plastic as she drew frantic, breathy little circles between her thighs. Her back bowed, one heel screeching against the hardwood, and a brittle, keening sound escaped her lips. Noah couldn't stop looking, his gaze locked on Madison, on the bucking, juddering twitch of her hips as she drove herself wild with the toy.

Every curve of Madison’s motion, every hissed intake, deepened the madness of the room. The toy spluttered in her grip, jets of slick shimmer hugging the soft webbing between her knuckles. Her lips nipped tight, her hips doing a mean little figure-eight grind.

Noah shifted his stance, muscles tightening, and began pumping in earnest. He braced Olivia's hip in one hand while the other combed her hair away from her neck, the strands damp with sweat. Her cunt clenched around him with every thrust, friction so sharp. He drove into her with measured force, accelerating until the smacks of pelvis on flesh overpowered the judder of the desktop.

He palmed Liv’s ass, relishing the tremor that ran through both bodies at contact. The surface was smooth, the muscle beneath taut. He flattened his palm and brought it down, the sharp sound echoing off the filing cabinets. Olivia jolted under his weight but didn't protest, only grabbed the desk tighter. He did it again. The second slap raised a patch of red, heat radiating onto his fingertips. Olivia’s breathing hitched, a quick, shredded sound that trailed off into a high whine. He gripped her harder, pulling her back into the iron of his cock.

The pace had a logic of its own, quick, ugly, designed to erase the entire scenario in blunt sensation. He threw his hips forward, pulled nearly all the way out, then slammed back in, another slap, this one on the other cheek, and watched the bloom of fresh color there. The roughness inside him became a rhythm, a circuit; his cock drove forward while Olivia braced against each jolt, the wet slap and mounting pressure drowning the faint memory of carols past the cinderblock. Above her, Madison whined into her own palm, jaw clenched, still working the shuddering plastic between her thighs with white-knuckle dedication.

Noah gripped Oliva’s hair, not to wrench or dominate, but to anchor himself in the cyclonic swirl of now. The strands tangled around his knuckles, slick with sweat, the scent of her, fear, perfume, and something bright and mortifying. Her whole body tensed against the desk, and with each thrust her face pressed harder into the crook of her elbow, like she could hide in an inch of air. He felt her thighs begin to shake and watched her feet scrabble for purchase between the chair legs.

The pink toy juddered between Madison’s thighs, the effort of her grinding motion visible in the tremor of her knees. She bit her own hand and moaned into her knuckles. Noah wanted to score the sight onto the surface of his mind. He wanted to own it, make them both remember forever where this happened and who had been watching.

Noah straightened, working his hips with deliberate, glacial slowness, just to see if she’d notice. Olivia clamped around him, the fit tight as a fist, and when he stopped moving, she filled the silence by slamming herself back into his cock with a violence that made the whole desk lurch. The sudden shock of it nearly made him grunt, he caught himself, biting the inside of his cheek. Jesus. She was fucking him now. Absolutely, greedily using him, as if she could tunnel her way through the shame and out the other side.

For a few long minutes, Noah just held her in place, hands anchored at her hips, and let Liv grind, surge, and batter herself back onto him with a need that had nothing to do with fear. She wanted this, needed this, her ass flush against his pelvis, the ragged animal panting, the way her knees trembled and locked as she sank entirely onto his length, then did it again, and again, and again. Each time, the air punched from her lungs, a carnal little mewl that made his scalp tingle.

He felt her get wetter, the lube of it running down his shaft, soaking the polyester at his thighs and pooling in the curve of her right thigh. The grip of her cunt grew hotter, the walls fluttering with each hard drag, until he thought he’d lose control, spill right then and collapse in a heap. But Noah was practiced. He knew how to edge himself just this side of disaster, so he hung there, thighs flexed, bracing the sound and fury of her grinding into his lap, letting the animal logic run its course.

He tightened his grip on her hips and forced her to slow, dialing back the rhythm to something mean and teasing. Olivia moaned, a surprised, broken note, but obeyed, melting forward over the desk as if her bones had given out. Her fingers dug hard into the laminate, nails screeching in protest each time he bottomed out. She hung her head, hair falling across her cheekbones, and just breathed, drawing in the memory of every wet slap and every shock of pleasure.

Olivia stared as Madison's whole body tightened, every lean muscle straining against her own need, “Jesus, Mads...” before Madison shouted, “Olivia... fuck!”

Noah shifted his stance, getting a better angle, and pressed himself in to the hilt. Madison watched, eyes wide and shining, the pink toy hammering between her thighs, fingers moving wild, out-of-control. At the sight of her, he felt the surge between his legs turn volcanic, the urge to finish nearly strangling him.

The moment felt infinite, stretched and raw. He let go of Olivia’s hips, held for a breath, just to admire the view: Olivia braced over the desk, ass flared open, thighs running with sweat and slick, the tiny sounds she made roughening the air. Madison’s knuckles worked her sex hole, around the buzzing toy, the two friends locked in their own little orbits of need. He kept himself still, resisting the building quake in his own gut, and let the moment find its own clarity.

Olivia was the one who broke the standoff, shifting her hips back and impaling herself again, her breath ragged through clenched teeth. She had stopped shuddering, like her engine had run past the redline and found a pocket of calm in the carnage. She pushed, he let her, they became this perfect piston, and each time she bottomed out she made a strangled noise that would have shamed a banshee.

He wanted it to never end, but the pace built, relentless, the burning pressure in his core turning to agony. Olivia’s body clenched, then he felt it, a bucking, animal surge, her insides fluttering around him as she let go with a wounded gasp. Her whole frame stuttered, one leg jerking, a thread of drool dampening the sleeve where she pressed her face to the desk. He didn’t stop, he drove in, over and over, letting the orgasm ride her like a current.

Madison’s voice cut the air, a half-swallowed moan, drowning in the spit-wet slap from the toy. Her knees buckled and she hit the desk with her hip, just the way he’d pictured it, desperate and quaking, her chin tucked hard as she pressed the plastic against herself. The pulse of her pleasure carried, the raw edge of it making something inside him break. The office blurred at the edges, nothing existed except the wet sound of Olivia stretched open, the tremor in Madison’s hands, the electric taste of power and surrender.

Noah pulled out of Olivia with a savage, unceremonious yank, his cock slick and throbbing, lashed with juice and spit. He grabbed her by the shoulder, shoving her down to her knees. The heels of her hands screeched across the laminate as she collapsed from the force, then looked up at him, face flushed and smeared with tears, eyes shining with shock or expectation, he couldn’t tell which.

Olivia’s lips parted, raw and trembling, her cheeks splotched red, mascara streaming in black rivulets toward her chin. He stepped in, aiming the head straight at her face, the tip glistening. She didn’t flinch away, not even when he barked, “Open.”

She did, mouth slack and waiting. For just a moment he hovered at the threshold, then he reached down, fisted her hair, and stroked his cock against her lower lip, barely holding back. She made a raw, animalistic sound, somewhere between a sob and a gasp, then licked the underside, once, twice then let himself go.

He came in three wild bursts, the first thick and blinding as it hit Olivia’s eye and nose, the second spattering her tongue, the third a hot, stringy ooze of cum, that dripped down her chin. Her mouth filled, impossible not to, and she sputtered, but he kept her in place with a hand at her scalp.

Some of it missed, slicking the crest of her cheek. Her lips closed and only then did he allow himself a step back, body untethered and all nerves. Olivia doubled over, retching softly but not making a sound, swallowing what she could, the rest painting her teeth and lips with a bacterial-white film. Cum and spit trailed from her chin, gathering and dripping slowly onto her blouse. She kept her eyes shut.

A few moments later, Noah Brinley spoke up.

“You’re still facing consequences,” Noah added. “Both of you.”

He reached into a drawer, pulled out two printed forms, and set them on the desk.

“Noah...” Olivia whispered, still trembling, but with a thread of hope winding into her voice.

“These are trespass notices,” he said. “Effective immediately.”

Madison stepped forward, her voice quiet but controlled. “Meaning what exactly?”

“Meaning you are banned from Westview Galleria,” Noah said. “Permanently. No shopping. No passing through. No exceptions.”

Olivia blinked rapidly, trying to process it. “We... we can’t come back? Ever?”

“Correct.” Noah’s voice didn’t waver. “And listen very carefully, because I want there to be no confusion. If either of you sets foot in this mall again, I will call the police. Not a warning. Not a conversation. An arrest.”

Madison swallowed hard. Olivia’s eyes filled again, but she nodded.

Noah softened, not much, but enough to shift the temperature of the room. “This is me giving you your one second chance. Don’t make me regret it.”

He turned the forms toward them. “Sign, and you can walk out that door today with your careers intact and no criminal record. But you walk out knowing exactly where the line is.”

Madison signed first, her hand steady, her pride in pieces but her relief palpable. Olivia signed second, her signature shaky and slanted, a physical echo of the fear that had wrapped around her all night.

When they finished, Noah collected the papers and stepped back.

“You’re free to go.”

The two women moved toward the door slowly, like people waking from a nightmare. Olivia kept her head down, still wiping her eyes. Madison glanced back once, just once, meeting Noah’s gaze with something complicated, gratitude, resentment, and the sting of humiliation all tangled together.

Noah didn’t look away.

They left without another word, disappearing down the dim service corridor and back into the distant hum of holiday music.

Noah exhaled, alone again in the narrow office. The bracelet still sat on the desk, gleaming softly, a trivial object that had unexpectedly rewritten the night for all three of them.

Outside, the mall carried on, bright, loud, oblivious, while Noah returned to his rounds, the steady rhythm of duty pulling him forward into the rest of his shift.

The End