Klepto Bitch

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A kleptomaniac gets punished for shoplifting.
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I knew I was caught as soon as I put the lipstick in my purse. I'd been shoplifting since I was ten years old, a full decade of swiping sticks of gum and flimsy shirts and anything else I could fit in my bag, my bra, my pants. Half the time, I didn't even want what I stole. I would give it away, or throw it in the garbage can just outside the store. I only wanted to see if I could get away with it.

But now, for the first time, there was no getting away with it.

"Miss?" One of the clerks, a tall guy with an earring twinkling from his left ear, beckoned to me, but I pretended that I hadn't heard him.

I started walking toward the exit, trying to look like I was any other customer, done with browsing and ready to move on to the next store. But there was a broad-shouldered security guard waiting for me, and he stepped in front of the exit.

"Come with me, miss," he said.

Before I could second-guess my decision, I took off running. My purse slapped against my ass and my sneakers pounded the linoleum tiles of the mall as I tried to weave my way in between the crowd. But from behind me, I could feel the security guard gaining, and I hadn't made it halfway to the Food Court when he grabbed me from behind and wrestled me to the ground. His large hand was pushing my head down to the floor, his knee in the small of my back as he gathered my wrists behind me and snapped handcuffs around them. My skirt hadn't felt particularly short when I left the house, but now it felt positively indecent as it rucked up around my waist, only the thin strip of my thong giving any coverage to my bare ass cheeks as they were presented to onlookers who'd stopped to gawk.

All this over a lipstick?

"Show's over," he tersely told the crow¬¬d as he pulled me to my feet. But as he escorted me back to the store, he whispered in my ear, "Or is it only beginning?"

What did that mean?

I tugged on my handcuffed hands, not because I thought I'd actually get away, but because I wanted him to know that I wasn't willing. My daddy was a high-profile attorney. He wouldn't let them get away with treating me like this. In my mind, I documented all the offenses so far - physical assault, emotional distress, public humiliation . . .

And all over a lipstick.

The security guard dragged me into a back office and sat me down on a chair. "Don't move," he said, and then he left, locking the door behind him.

"I get one phone call!" I shouted. But the door was thick metal - surprisingly sturdy, actually, for a dinky office in the back of a mall store - and I doubt he heard me.

Half an hour probably passed before the door opened again, only this time it was the clerk who walked in. His face was long, the thin slash of his mouth cruel, and he regarded me as if I were some kind of bug he'd like to stomp beneath his shoe.

"I'd like to call my father," I said imperiously, before adding, "he's an attorney, you know."

The clerk's diamond earring winked at me, mocking me. "You can make whatever phone call you'd like in two hours," he said. "Providing you're a good girl and do everything we say."

For some reason, his words caused heat to flood my lower abdomen, and I pressed my thighs together, squeezing the inner muscles of my vagina as if to stop the juices from flowing. The clerk smiled slightly, as if he knew exactly what I was feeling.

"Stand up," he said.

I wanted to disobey him, just to prove that he couldn't tell me what to do, but I saw no reason to not stand. The way my hands were cuffed behind my back made my tits thrust out proudly, and I raised my chin as the clerk's gaze drifted over my body. I knew I was hot. My waist was small, my legs long, my breasts larger than average. I'd only had two boyfriends, but they'd both told me over and over how fuckable they found my body. Despite that, I'd always felt slightly disappointed by both of them in the bedroom, our sessions lasting no more than twenty minutes apiece.

That was why I felt this excitement coursing through me, I told myself, even though I didn't want this. The clerk had taken a pair of scissors from the desk and was calmly cutting through my shirt, as though he were simply cutting a tag off of merchandise.

"You can't do this," I said, trying to pull back. He rested the blade of the scissors against the swell of my breast that showed now above my exposed bra.

"Careful," he said, and kept cutting. He cut it into ribbons until I was standing in only my bra, my shirt in pieces on the floor. When he was done, he sliced my bra off, too, until I stood before him completely topless, my hands still bound behind my back, my large peach-colored nipples erect.

"Does this excite you?" he asked.

"I only stole a lipstick."

"Ah, yes." He cut the strap of my purse until it fell away from my body, and then rifled through it until he found the tube of lipstick. He turned it over to look at the sticker on the bottom.

"Berry Bliss," he said, and opened the top, turning it until the slanted color rose from the tube. It reminded me of my clitoris suddenly, which felt like it was rising, too, bulging against the thin fabric of my thong.

He reached out to apply the lipstick to my mouth, slathering it on thickly. I yanked my head away and felt the lipstick slide on my cheek, and he chuckled softly. Gathering one bountiful breast in his hand, he painted my nipple purplish-red with the lip color, and then did the same to the other side. I felt myself trembling. When I looked down, I realized he had drawn X's over both nipples, as though marking the spot.

Then he pulled on the stretchy elastic of my skirt, taking my thong with it, and tugged them down my legs until I was completely nude except for my sneakers. He removed those last, kissing my calves as he did so.

I longed to kick him in the balls, but I would lose my balance. I longed to cover myself, but the cuffs were tight, and every time I strained against them I could feel the chafe of the metal against my wrists. I closed my eyes. Could this really be happening?

Something prodded at my shaved labia, and I felt the pressure of the lipstick as he drew an X over my most secret place before turning me around and drawing a large X over my ass, too, his strokes strong and sure. Oh god. He was marking me, like a pirate might mark buried treasure on a map.

I started to cry, hot tears streaking down my cheeks, and he capped the lipstick. "That's okay, baby," he said, pinching one of my nipples, leaving purplish-red streaks on his fingers. "It's okay to cry. You've been a bad girl."

"I don't w-want this," I said. "Let me call my father, please, and he'll p-pay you, I promise. He'll pay you hundreds of dollars, more than the eight dollars the lipstick cost. Or send me to jail. P-please, just don't . . ."

His face was very close as he jammed a finger inside of me, twisting it and swirling it around in my juices in the most agonizing rhythm before adding another finger, and then another. "Do you steal a lot, bad girl?"

Something told me that he would know if I lied. I bit my lip, tasting the slick lipstick that covered it. "Y-yes."

"Then don't you think you deserve to be punished?"

He withdrew his fingers, and for a moment it felt like that was to be my punishment, to be denied the relief that I'd been careening towards. But then I felt something else nudge my slit, and he'd shoved the tube of lipstick inside me. After the glorious movement of his fingers, the tube felt too small, too inert, and I squirmed against it, unable to help the moan that escaped from my lips.

The clerk stood back. "Run in place," he commanded, "and don't let it drop."

I clenched my vaginal muscles as tightly as I could to hold the tube in as I started to run, picking up my knees when he told me to, feeling the heavy weight of my breasts bounce against my ribcage and then up toward my chin. For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was my panting and the slap slap slap of skin against skin.

"Try to see if you can catch your nipple in your mouth," he said, "and don't stop until I tell you to."

I was surprised when he left without even waiting to see if I'd obey, but of course I did, running faster and faster, my mouth opening spasmodically every time my tits were on the upswing, taunted by the purple X's that teased me as I struggled to catch my nipple between my lips. This is impossible, I thought, but the challenge only fueled me further. My tears became tears of frustration and humiliation as I kept running in the empty room.

I ran for a while, my breasts aching painfully, my ankles and calves like jelly, before the clerk re-entered the room, this time with the security guard in tow.

"Turn around and lift your hands," the clerk said. "Keep running."

I did as he'd asked, raising my clasped hands painfully until they were in the middle of my back, my elbows jutting out from both sides of me like two wings. When the first strike of a hand came on my bare ass, the force of it sent me flying against the desk. I was yanked back to a standing position by my hair.

"Keep running," the clerk said, but I could tell from where his voice was coming from that he wasn't the one doing the spanking. It was the security guard with those large paddle hands, and each time he made contact with my ass cheeks, he lifted me a little, until the rhythm was more and more frenetic - me running, my tits bouncing, my ass stinging as he spanked me again and again. Inside me, the tube of lipstick rubbed, but not enough, and I wagged my ass from side to side, trying to work the lipstick further inside of me. Instead it slid out, falling to the floor with a clatter. The security guard took my movements as an invitation, and spanked me even harder. I fell forward against the desk, my tits slapping its surface with nothing to break my fall, and suddenly a cock was pushing its way into my pussy, taking me doggy-style. It was the clerk, fucking me against the desk while the security guard continued to slap my ass whenever he got the opportunity. Every thrust and strike slammed me against the desk, and my open panting mouth left a trail of my saliva under my face. It made my cheeks slip and slide as the clerk pumped away in me, holding my hips for leverage.

The spanking stopped, and only a few moments later the security guard was standing in front of me, pulling my shoulders so that the desk supported all my weight, my feet off the ground while the clerk continued to fuck me.

The security guard unzipped his pants, and when he unleashed his cock it looked impossibly huge, both longer and wider than any dick I'd seen before. I groaned as he pushed it into my mouth and started to face fuck me, not caring that if the angle hurt my neck or if I started to gag, just hitting the back of my throat with the head of his big dick.

"You like getting fucked, klepto bitch?" he asked, and I moaned.

"Answer me!"

But my mouth was full of cock, and all I could do was go, "Nnnnnggg!" I hummed it louder and louder, my throat vibrating around his dick until I felt it spasm as he shot all of his cum inside my mouth. I swallowed it down greedily, taking every last drop, sucking him dry. From behind me, the clerk pulled out, flipping me over so that I was on my back. I was lying on my cuffed hands, the metal digging into my skin, but I didn't care. I spread my legs wide, my juicy pussy crying out for more cock.

The clerk slapped my cunt, bringing his hand sharply down on my clit once, twice, three times.

"You're a bad girl, aren't you?"

"Yes," I said, and then I shouted it as he slapped me again, harder this time. "Yes! Yes, I'm a bad girl! Punish me, oh, please . . ."

He sat in the office chair, his erection sticking straight up, and yanked me down by the legs until I was astride him, impaling me on his dick. It was still wet from being inside me, and it slid right in, filling me deeper than I'd ever been filled before.

"Ride me," he said. "Ride me like the bad girl you are."

It took every muscle in my legs, but I bounced up and down on him, grinding my pelvis against his balls, feeling his cock swell inside me. He grabbed me by the tits and held me down as he shot his sperm inside me, and I could feel it dripping around his dick, sliding out of my cunt and down my inner thighs. The hot liquid mixed with my own juices as I felt myself fall off the cliff, lost in my own climax. He slapped my breasts before picking me up off of him and throwing me to the floor like a rag doll.

I thought that was it. It was over. I'd been punished by both of them, and we'd all gotten off. I saw myself then as they must have seen me - my hands still behind my back, my tits red and swollen from the manhandling, my legs sprawled carelessly open, exposing my shaved pussy to anyone who might walk in.

"Can I go home now?" I ventured to ask, and the clerk smiled before looking at the security guard, who was already hard again.

"Not so fast," the clerk said. "We haven't hit all of the spots we marked, and you haven't called your daddy."

It took a moment for what he said to sink in, but once it did my eyes went wide as I started trying to slide backwards on the floor, as if to get away. But there was no escape. The security guard came toward me, his dick veiny and throbbing and almost as purple-red as the X over my anus.

"No," I said. "No - I've never -"

He grabbed my legs easily with his strong hands, spreading me wide and lifting my ass off the floor as he kneeled in front of me. "Call me daddy, baby girl," he said.

"No!" I shouted, and started thrashing from side to side, but my futile attempts to get free only seemed to amuse him. He laughed as he slapped my inner thighs with his big dick.

"You can be as loud as you need to be, little girl," he said. "No one can hear you."

And then the head of his cock was pushing against my tight little anus, shoving its way in, an inch at first and then more and more. I felt him stretch me, and when he broke through until he was all the way in, buried up to the hilt in my ass, I screamed.

"That's right, baby," he said. "Take it. You know who's your daddy."

It hurt like hell, but suddenly the pain became pleasurable, a new sensation that my body responded to. My nipples tightened. My pussy got wet all over again. I was breathing fast and shallow, and the security guard started to move in me, slowly at first, and then faster and faster, building up a rhythm.

"Oh," I moaned. "Oh, Daddy . . . fuck me, Daddy."

"I'll fuck you, baby girl. You've been a bad girl and you need to get fucked."

The clerk was standing over my face, and he was hard again, too, and pulling on his dick, matching the rhythm that the security guard had set in my ass. As if in symphony, we built up the crescendo until we were all crying out in orgasm, the security guard filling my ass with his creamy cum, the clerk splashing his over my face. The sticky liquid landed in my hair, on my cheek, my tits. I licked some off my lips.

They left me on the floor while they pulled their pants back up and zipped. I realized neither of them had taken off his shirt, or even taken off his shoes or pants all the way. I felt vulnerable as I lay on the ground, still stark naked, my hands cuffed behind my back, while they were fully clothed in their work uniforms.

The security guard crossed over to a small TV, pressing some buttons on a remote while he watched the screen.

"Did you get it all?" the clerk asked.

It was then that I noticed the camera in the corner of the ceiling, and I knew before the security guard turned the television toward us what would be on it. He'd rewound the tape back to the part where I was running in place, my tits bouncing, trying to catch my nipples with my teeth. In the video, it was impossible to tell if I was enjoying it or not - my face was a blur. But I'd enjoyed it.

The clerk leaned down until his face was close to mine. His cum still covered me, drying and cracking on my cheeks. He smiled.

"Did you learn your lesson?" he asked.

"Yes," I breathed. "Oh, yes."

"Will you ever steal again?"

"No."

The clerk spit on my face, two huge wads of saliva, and then grabbed a t-shirt with the store's logo on the pocket to wipe me down. He dragged me to my feet by my shoulders, and the security guard reached behind me to unlock the handcuffs. He slid the hard metal edge of one of them down the seam of my ass before hooking them back on his belt, and I felt myself getting wet all over again, as ready to fuck as I'd been just a few minutes ago. How could I feel so spent, so satisfied, and yet so restless at the same time?

The clerk told me to put the shirt on, and so I did, my sore nipples chafing painfully against the rough cotton. Before I was allowed to step back into my thong underwear and my skirt, he took the tube of lipstick and freshened up my lips, then shoved the closed tube back into my pussy.

"That'll be eight dollars," he said when I was fully clothed again.

I reached into my purse, my hands shaking as I extracted a ten dollar bill. He slid it into his pocket without bothering to make change, and opened the door to the little office, gesturing for me to exit.

The daylight streaming in through the skylights in the main corridor of the mall was shocking to me. It had only been two hours, after all, and it was just after five o'clock. The mall was experiencing an after-work rush, with busy professionals and young families and senior citizens and teenagers roaming the stores in large groups, laughing and chatting. I felt out of place among them with my lack of a bra, my pussy and anus feeling stretched out and abused, smelling of sex, the lipstick tube inside me. I couldn't even put my purse over my shoulder, since they'd slashed the strap, and so I held it defensively, blinking into the sunlight like a kitten.

"Be a good girl," the security guard said as he took up his post next to the door, and I promised him that I would.

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1 Comments
SloanJDSloanJDover 8 years ago
Excellent!

I love your stories!!

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