Robbery

When my grandfather retired he promptly found that he was bored with no work to do. Seeing that he could afford it he bought into a little general store up in the mountains, one serving the local community. He didn't get much custom and I doubt that he made much of a profit but that was irrelevant as he had a nice pension that supported him. As long as he wasn't actually losing money on the deal he was happy.

So everything was fine until suddenly it wasn't. My grandmother called me, whining about selfish old men who expected her to run the store for a couple of weeks, and there was no way known that she was going to do it. Her solution was for me to take a couple of weeks off and do it for her.

Asked why my grandfather was missing in action it turned out he was in hospital in a degree of pain with some kidney stones. The hospital was working on breaking them down and giving him medication to soothe the worst of the pain. He was going to be away for another week or so and my grandmother was not going to run the store.

Knowing my grandmother's propensity for garnering ill-will when she didn't get her way I agreed to act as stand-in and the next day found me driving into the mountains to become a shopkeeper.

The work was dead easy as the customers were few and far between. The store was nicely stocked and all I had to do was check stock levels every so often so I could order in further stock if required, which so far it wasn't.

I was thinking about closing up one afternoon when the wind-chimes that tinkle when the door opens sounded and I knew I probably had a last minute customer. I say probably as those chimes also tinkled whenever a gust of wind came through the gap at the top of the door. I kept intending to put some sort of sealer up there but hadn't got around to it. I suspect that my grandfather was the same, intending to but not doing.

It turned out that it wasn't quite a customer. I found myself looking at some kid wearing a ski-mask and sporting a gun.

"Why aren't you in school, kid?" I asked him, "instead of here wasting my valuable time."

"I'm not a kid," came a muffled and irritated voice. "Give me a packet of cigarettes."

"We don't stock them," I promptly replied.

"What? Yes you do. You know you do. Now give me a packet."

"OK, keep your hair on. What brand?"

"What?"

"What brand?" I repeated. "We have . . ." I started reeling off all the brands, packet sizes, menthol, non-menthol, etcetera.

"Marlboro," came the urgent request, rudely breaking into my spiel.

"Just plain," was hurriedly added when it looked as those I was going to ask for further specifications.

"Driver's license?" I asked.

"Eh?"

"It's illegal for a shopkeeper to provide cigarettes to someone under age and you certainly seem under age to me. Therefore I need to see your driver's license or some other form of ID, such as your school pass."

"Are you kidding me? I'm not showing you my license."

"Haven't got one," I said with satisfaction. "Under age, like I thought."

"Just give me the damned packet." He was yelling now, sounding pissed off. Worse was to come for him because the wind-chimes chose that moment to start tinkling. His head turned to look towards the door and I took certain steps. A large step to my left took me away from the front of the gun and meant he would be slow moving his aim to follow me. Before he could do so my hand landed on his and closed tight. I'm a big man and quite powerful and what I take hold of doesn't move until I want it to.

He was yelling at me to let go, tugging at his hand and getting nowhere. Meanwhile I took hold of the gun with my other hand and started pulling on it.

"You've got a choice, kid," I told him. "You can let go the gun or lose a finger. Your choice."

He held on for a moment longer and then relinquished the gun. I went to unload it and then took a hasty second look. The damn thing was just a model. A very good model, but still a model. I tossed it to one side, reached over, and pulled off his ski-mask.

Her ski-mask, I should say as the elfin face looking at me with tears in her eyes didn't belong to any boy.

"You rotten brute," she hissed at me. "You'd have torn my finger off and laughed while you did it."

"Oh don't be so melodramatic," I told her. "I knew you'd let go the gun as soon as a finger broke."

The look she gave me indicated that my reasoning didn't find any favour with her.

I still kept a grip on her wrist as I came around the counter to examine my prize. I looked her over but didn't say anything. What I did do was head over to the door, turned the open sign to closed, and lock the door.

"So, kid, you never did say why you're here trying to pinch a packet of cigarettes instead of at school. Can't buy them normally because of your age?"

"I keep telling you I'm not a kid," she yelled. "I'm an adult. I've graduated."

I ran my eyes over her again, lingering at her bust. True, there were bulges under her sloppy top, but they weren't very big.

"Sure, kid," I told her, casting a disbelieving look at her bust line. "You just keep telling yourself that."

She was almost spitting she was so furious.

"The robbery lark?" I said, making a coaxing gesture with my free hand to encourage her to talk.

"I wouldn't have actually robbed you," she sulked. "I intended to pay for them. The whole thing was a dare."

"So you're really an adult and you'd have paid up. I believe you."

The tone of my voice gave the lie to that statement.

"Well, it's true," she snapped.

"Doesn't really matter," I told her. "I'll find out the truth soon enough. I just have to wait and see if the cops try you as an adult or stick you in the Juvie system."

"Cops?" she asked, sounding shocked.

"Of course cops," I said. "I mean, you tried to hold me up. You threatened me with a gun. I was terrified."

"You were not. You were laughing at me the entire time. It was a fake gun, anyway, and you know it."

"Doesn't matter. The cops will still charge you with attempted armed robbery. You'll probably just get sent to a juvie home until you're of age. Of course, if you are an adult you're more likely to be facing time but only one or two years."

She went white.

"Jail. But it was just a dare. I'd have paid for them, I swear. It wasn't even a real gun. You can't call the police. I'd get into so much trouble."

"The point is that you're supposed to think of the consequences before you do something this stupid," I pointed out. "What if my grandfather had been behind the counter? He's an old man. You might have given him a heart attack and then you'd have had manslaughter charges on top of everything else. I can assure you that I am really displeased about this whole affair."

"But, but, do you have to involve the police?"

"I'm tempted to just give you a beating and then have you out the door with a boot up your bum. The trouble with that, kid, is that you'd run whining to daddy and I'd be the one in trouble for beating up a minor."

"I keep telling you that I'm not a minor," she snapped. She dipped her hand into her pocket and produced a small wallet. Flicking it open she pointed to the driver's license.

"See. I do have a license. I'm eighteen. Nearly nineteen. I was stupid, not criminal."

I looked at her thoughtfully. Then I lifted the front of that floppy top up to give myself a better view. I had to admit the figure exposed wasn't an under-aged juvenile figure. Her breasts were petite but shapely, probably a B cup, maybe even a B+, and unencumbered with a bra. Her waist was slender, curving gracefully to a nice pair of hips. At that point the young lady gave a startled cry and hastily pushed her top back down, hiding her charms.

"OK, Pixie," I said. "I'll concede that you're an adult. Still, are you sure you could tolerate a brute such as myself giving your derriere a sound beating? A good spanking will smart so, you know."

"It's Patricia, not Pixie," she snapped. "Of course I don't want a beating but I'd rather a spanking than having the police involved." She seemed to shudder slightly at the thought of being led away in handcuffs.

"Pixie suits you better," I told her. "Alright come into the back room. I'm not going to spank you here where anyone sticking their nose against the window will see your bottom being warmed up."

She reluctantly followed me into the back room, feet dragging as she came. I took a seat and smiled at her.

"Just drop your jeans and we can get on with this," I told her.

"Drop my jeans? Are you crazy?" She absolutely hissed the words at me.

"No. You were when you marched in with a toy gun. Did it occur to you that instead of taking the gun off you I might have punched you in the face? If I had you'd be on your way to hospital right now, complete with police escort. Now stop stalling and do as you're told."

From the horrified look on her face it had never entered her mind that she might have been in personal danger. She hastily undid her jeans and somehow or other slithered out of them.

"I'm not taking off my panties," she warned me and I just shrugged.

"I don't recall asking you to," I said, leaving it at that.

She certainly showed no great eagerness to bend over my knee and get the show on the road but bend over she did. I promptly lowered her panties which resulted in a shriek of outrage and a protest.

"I said I wasn't taking them down," she yelled.

"You didn't. I did," I pointed out. "Now be quiet."

She wasn't. She yelled when my hand landed firmly on her bottom. She yelled some more as the spanking continued. I paused after a short while.

"Did you know that a psychological experiment showed that when a young lady is spanked by a man her legs tend to spread, apparently trying to entice the man from one sort of punishment to another?"

While I was explain that my hand drifted over her exposed flesh, hinting at the preferred punishment. She gasped, her legs hastily moving together again.

"Oddly enough, it doesn't happen if another woman spanks them, unless there is also a man in the room, in which case it does happen. I can't help but wonder where they got the volunteers for this sort of experiment."

I resumed the spanking, amused but not surprised to find her legs drifting apart again after a short while. Deciding enough was enough, because you could overdo something, I called the spanking to a halt.

Just the spanking. After that last spank my hand just smoothed its way across her bottom and between her legs, cupping her vulva. At the same time my other hand slipped under her top, sought, found, and covered a nice little breast.

Pixie went dead still for a moment, then protested. Her voice sounded rather strained, I noticed.

"Hush, little Pixie," I said. "I'll tell you what is going to happen. I'm going to let you get up and you're going to turn around and sit on my lap. OK?"

"No," came the quick reply, even though I was already swinging her up onto her feet. For all that she said no she turned slowly around to face me. Certainly slowly enough for me to be unzipped and my clothes pushed down out of the way. She looked down at what was waiting for her and slowly shook her head.

"You don't really think," she muttered, leaving it at that. For answer I just reached for her, hands closing around her bottom and urging her closer. She moved closer, slowly because I wasn't trying to drag her into position, just encourage her to come to me, and come she did.

Finally she was in a position where my erection was brushing against her. It stood a little tall, her being so petite, but that wasn't a major obstacle. I could see her swallowing nervously as she raised herself onto her toes, giving herself that little bit extra in the height department, and now my cock had drifted between her legs and was pressing against her.

She took a big breath and slowly started sinking down onto me, apparently determined to hold her breath until she was fully seated. I wanted to yell with triumph and push urgently up against her, but forced myself to wait, letting her come to me. Then she was seated, straddling me, my cock fully inside her, looking at me slightly wild eyed and breathing once more, rather heavily, too.

"I can't believe this is happening," she protested. "You forced me to do this."

I didn't say anything, being busy pushing her top up. Actually, that's not quite correct. I did say, "Arms up," which she complied with, letting me slip her top right off and giving me both a better view and easy access to a nice pair of breasts.

I bent my head and kissed each nipple, sucking lightly. "More than a handful is a waste, anyway," I murmured, hands replacing my mouth and covering both breasts.

I gave a little upwards thrust and my Pixie remembered her duties. She started sliding up and down my shaft, me quite willing to give her a helping hand. Her passage was wrapped tightly around my cock, holding it in a loving embrace as she moved, giving me pleasure with every movement. Her eyes were half closed and she had a dreamy expression on her face, lost in her own little world as we mated.

I was in no hurry to finish things off and I just let her move at her own pace, taking the enjoyment she gave, hoping I was likewise bringing pleasure to her. From the soft moaning sounds that seemed to just ooze from her throat I'd have to say that was a yes.

I guessed things were coming to a climax, or at least Pixie was, when her eyes flared open and she started bouncing harder, getting noisier by the second. I obligingly pushed harder to meet her, quite ready to spring my load, hopefully not too soon.

Pixie gave a small scream and we both climaxed, shaking with our mutual pleasures. Pixie remained on my lap for a few moments, just breathing hard. Then she made a small sound with a horrified look on her face, scrambled off my lap and started dressing just as fast as she could. For my part I just stood up and hitched up my trousers.

Ever seen a cat when it's been startled and reacted badly? After the immediate reaction it looks around to see if anyone noticed and, if someone did, it stalks off, all offended dignity. That was Pixie just then. Dressed once more she was heading towards the door, saying nothing to me.

"Ah, Pixie, don't you want some cigarettes?" I asked and she whirled around to glare at me.

"No," she snapped. 'It's a filthy habit. My boyfriend wanted them. If he still wants them he can get them himself."

She cocked her head to one side for a moment, obviously considering something.

"Ex-boyfriend, I should say," she decided. "This was all his fault." She turned to look directly at me. "That was his gun. He's always waving it around. It was quite expensive according to him. What are you going to do if he comes looking for it."

"Tell him I handed it in at the police station as proof of an attempted robbery. Do you think he'll go there and ask for it?"

She bit her lip but I could see she was trying to hide a smirk. Then she had another thought.

"You're not really going to give it to the police are you?"

"Not with your fingerprints all over it. I'll polish it up and take it home. "Ah, can I expect you here tomorrow for another attempted robbery?"

"What makes you think I'll come back again," she gasped, truly astounded.

"Perhaps to see if I'd hand out the same punishment or if I'd change it around a bit. I found it interesting, myself."

She blushed and bolted. She also left behind her ski-mask so I guess another robbery wasn't going to be forthcoming. Still, perhaps she'd return for her ski-mask and I'd be able to claim a reward for finding it.