went to this perfume store tucked in the corners of a dilapidated mall and got molested (for a price)

me and a friend randomly went inside this really small ittar ka dukaan. it had a LOT of perfumes and scents and an amazing collection of cool lighters. we played around with them and got a few. we were loud. it was just something new we did and ig it just made our pathetic little lives worth it for a while. the owner also sold vapes I think and even let us take a few puffs (my first time, didn't see the appeal) then came trouble. he started pushing us for perfumes. showed us a few, apparently the guy specialises in making dupe perfumes of famous brands. there was this one perfume called victorias bombshell and I liked it's smell. he proceeded to give us 2 sample bottles of perfumes of our choice for free. but was it even for free? because he made us pull out our hands forward so that he could put a few drops of the perfumes there (the bottles were huge and weren't spray bottles)he held one of our hands with his left arms then used the right to rub the perfume in. our left arms were projecting, get the picture of our positions? then he would aggresively rub both his arms on the pretext of applying the perfume. it was longer than an acceptable time and the arm which held out arms was closer to our chests. so his left arm was literally rubbing up against our breasts. it took me A HOT MINUTE to realise what was going on. that bastard istg. it took me a while agreed but only because I had never been physically molested all my life. this was new. idk how to explain this but I wasn't conscious of my breasts per se but the friction was just annoying. ig I had desensitised the feelings of anything sexual whatsoever for my breasts because personally its just meat bags hanging for me. doesn't mean that i excuse the whole of the act. later my friend also said that the guy did the same to her. we weren't sad or anything. just wondering why we were quiet. why did we freeze up. maybe because we gave room for misunderstandings. she even asked why we women are like this. why are we so docile. why were we afraid to create a scene. was it because it was a small space with mostly men everywhere. who would've cared or believed us. did we even believe that he did it? because here I was thinking that maybe I'm overthinking it. why do I overthink the wrong things, the ones clear as a blue sky i had imagined vicariously how I'd call out my assaulters if I were subjected to one. but now that I have, I couldn't. I went home. thought about it. and thought about how I could have done something to make sure that it didn't end us up in a sticky situation. I made a decision the next morning that I won't. I will speak up not matter how scary, even if it ends up with me getting murdered or raped. I'll humiliate them in the most obnoxious way. make them realise what they are doing. kick their balls, break their nose, spit on them, curse them, humiliate them no matter I get persecuted. never will I let an assaulter have the high ground.