The Shoplifters – Part One

by Ozmanga

Mr Desmond Fairweather sat on the hard wooden chair in his small office in the basement of the huge modern department store and scratched his balls in anticipation. His attention was fixed on the bank of sixteen closed-circuit-television monitors mounted on the wall above his small wooden desk. 

In particular his gaze was on the third screen from the left on the top row, the one labeled 'Parfum'. He had watched as a young woman in school uniform had slipped a small but wildly expensive bottle of scent into an older woman's Gucci handbag before dropping another small vial into her own blazer pocket.

He smiled and spoke quietly into a microphone mounted on his desk.

“Miss Ash, we have a lifter in the perfumery. An attractive young woman in boater, blazer and plaid skirt.”

“Yes, Major,” whispered his assistant security officer into a slim microphone concealed in a brooch on the jacket of her smartly tailored woolen suit. “I'm on my way. Attractive, you say?”

“Oh, yes. Long legs all the way up to her ass and it's the cutest little ass I've seen for a long time.”

Mr Fairweather chuckled as he saw Lyn Ash, his red-headed assistant, leave her position near the main exit on the CCTV monitor labeled 'Door 1'. The store employed only two security staff and a battery of the latest suveillance technology. Lyn Ash was not a big woman. She wore high-heeled boots to give her an extra inch or two. She had an athlete's confident carriage and was, he knew, as fit and fierce as a tiger

“Bring her here quietly, please Miss Ash,” the chief of security whispered. “I think she may be amenable to-er-our special treatment.”

“Good,” breathed his assistant. “It's been a while …”

He had known Lyn Ash for two years. They had met in their lawyers' office where they were both seeking advice for their respective legal problems. At that time Lyn was a police-woman who had been accused of using undue force on a female suspect. Fairweather was being advised not to sue the Defense Force for wrongful dismissal. Captain Fairweather's resignation had been requested following what he claimed was a totally false series of complaints by a number of enlisted personnel-mainly female-who had been members of the ordnance depot at which he worked. 

Officer Lyn Ash and Captain Desmond Fairweather hit it off immediately despite the ten year difference  in their ages. Each sensed in the other a fellow predator.

Following Lyn's departure from the police force eleven months later, Fairweather, now a civilian,  was happy to have been able to offer the fiery red-headed Lyn a job as his sole deputy security-officer in the new mega-store. She now earned a salary three times greater than she had as a cop and enjoyed the occasional 'special treat' organized by  the one-time Captain. As a reward Lyn promoted him 'Major' and introduced him to the Slaves and Masters Club of which she was a founder member. They remained close friends. The fact that they were both 'masters' precluded a closer relationship.

“There was an older woman with her.” said Desmond. “A blonde. An accomplice I believe. She's having something done to her hair in the hairdressers. We'll pick her up later.” 

“Roger, Major,” said Lyn.

Fairweather watched the 'Parfum' monitor. The young woman was still dawdling by the display of the more expensive goods. He admired her long legs and neatly rounded backside and when she turned to face the hidden camera he was entranced to see her white linen blouse was taut across her firm bosom. She was wearing a straw boater which was perched on her untidy mop of black hair. Her face was pretty. She had a snub nose and wide full lips. Fairweather liked full lips. He imagined  this pair encircling his cock. He was confident she could be persuaded to accommodate him before the store shut for the night.

Lyn Ash appeared in the monitor. She quietly approached the young woman and spoke to her. Smiling sweetly the ex-policewoman firmly gripped the young woman's upper arm and gently but forcefully escorted her towards the elevator which led to the basement. No one seemed to have noticed the arrest but to be on the safe side Fairweather dialed the store manager's office and spoke to the head honcho.

“We have apprehended a suspect shop-lifter, Ma'am,” he said respectfully. “I doubt we will need to call the police. I think this is one of those cases we can deal with ourselves more effectively.”

“If you say so, Major Fairweather. Please let me know should you change your mind,” said the manageress. She admired the 'Major'. He was always so positive. She sometimes wondered what he would be like in bed.

“Desmond, I do appreciate your efforts to save the firm the cost in goodwill and the embarrassment of prosecuting every miscreant.”

“Yes, Ma'am. Thank you. Some do respond to a good talking to.” He replaced the handset. “And others to more radical treatment,” he said to the empty office.

The security-office was a square, windowless cement box in the basement of the up-market store. The wall to the left of the doorway supported the array of monitors with Desmond's desk and chair facing them. The desk boasted a coffee machine, an 'out' basket and a telephone. Opposite was a partitioned-off section containing a shower, wash-basin, toilet, wooden chair, iron-framed bed with mattress and a full length mirror bolted to the wall. Both the bed and the chair were fastened to the floor to prevent any detainee from using the furniture as a weapon. Fairweather and Ash called the shower-room “The Cell”, only half in jest. The outer wall of the cell was covered with a selection of posters warning against the consequences of being caught thieving and, incongruously, a square window.  

In fact the window enabled a viewer to look through the mirror in the shower-room without being seen by anyone in the room. A notice-board, filing cabinet and tall cupboard graced the wall facing the  entrance to the office which led to a dusty passage and the elevator. The office of the Security Chief was cool in summer and comfortably warm in winter being heated by an oil-filled portable radiator. What Desmond particularly liked about his office and shower-room in the cellar was that it was isolated and soundproof.

Lyn Ash led her captive into the office. Desmond Fairweather stood up. The young woman was flushed and looked close to tears. She felt embarrassed and a little bit frightened. She was not reassured by Desmond who glared down at her from his gaunt six foot two height, his face grim and his thin mustache seeming to bristle with anger.

“Her name is Kylie O'Malley, Major,” said Lyn. “A student at one of our most exclusive schools.”

“From which she now, no doubt, faces expulsion,” said Desmond. “A pity. Empty your pockets,” he snapped.

Kylie decided to make a stand. She shook her head. “No,” she said. “You can't make me.”

“Oh, but I can,” said Desmond. “I have evidence you have stolen goods from the perfumery. I could, perhaps should, call the police. Would you prefer that, young lady?”

Did he mean they might not call the police? She thought. Kylie shook her head again.

“Then empty your pockets.”

Kylie slowly did as she was told. Her student card showed she was aged eighteen and eight weeks.  She was technically an adult. The flask of perfume was one of the last items she placed on the table.

“I meant to pay for it,” she lied. “I will now.”

“Too late,” said Desmond. “What else have you stolen?”

Kylie looked startled. “N…Nothing,” she stammered.

Lyn Ash snapped at her. “Show some respect. Call the Major,'Sir'.”

“Nothing, Sir, honestly,” said Kylie.

“We'll see. Miss Ash, please take Kylie into the bathroom. Let me have her hat. I think a full cavity search will tell us whether she is lying or not.”

“Certainly, Major,” said Lyn, her eyes gleaming with lustful anticipation, as she gripped the young woman's upper arm and propelled her into the shower-room. 

“Blazer, off,” Lyn snapped before the wretched Kylie could protest.

Desmond moved to the window into the shower room. He watched as Kylie handed her blazer to Lyn who then turned it inside out as she searched the garment for hidden pockets. When Lyn had completed her examination of the blazer she hung it on a large hook by the door.

“Get that blouse off,” she said.

“W…Why?” wailed the young woman.

“I need to see whether you have any stolen goods hidden in your bra. A favorite trick of young shop-lifters like yourself.”

Kylie started to cry. Big soft tears ran down her cheeks as Lyn helped her undo the buttons of her  fine linen school-uniform blouse. Desmond felt his prick stiffen as he watched Lyn take the blouse and hang it over the blazer then unfasten the young woman's brassiere at the back. 

Kylie tried to prevent Lyn from removing her bra but the ex-policewoman would  brook no nonsense.

“Don't be silly. I have to check there is nothing tucked into the padding.” she said, deftly whipping the bra away from Kylie's hands. Kylie's bra had little padding. Her breasts were full and firm topped with little buttons of pink nipples. “Not that there's a lot of padding. You have very nice tits,” said Lyn softly.

Kylie looked startled at the compliment. Ohmygod, she thought, I think she's a bit of a dyke. But what can I do?She turned to look at herself in the mirror. On the other side of the glass Desmond agreed wholeheartedly with his deputy. The young woman had nice tits. He could hardly wait to get his hands on them.

“Nearly done,” said Lyn cheerfully as she opened the bathroom cabinet and extracted a pack of disposable surgical gloves and a tube of lubricant gel. “Knickers off! Bend down, grasp your ankles.”

Kylie didn't move. Ohmygod.

“Come on,” said Lyn. “Do as you're told. If I have to I'll get the Major in here to hold you while I do what is necessary. Do you want that?”

Kylie shook her head. “No,”she whispered. Slowly she reached under her skirt and began rolling her panties down her long legs. Kylie had problems when her panties tangled with the buttons on her ankle-strap shoes. After a brief struggle she handed the soft white cotton garment to Lyn who added it to the clothing already hanging on the hook.

Desmond grinned with approval as Lyn folded Kylie's skirt up to expose the young woman's naked buttocks before depositing a dab of gel on the tight brown star of her asshole. 

Kylie was crying again. 

Lyn stroked and probed the rim of the young woman's anus with consummate skill. Never been rimmed before,have you kiddo? Well give me some time and I'll soon have you begging for it, thought Lyn. And before Lyn inserted even the tip of one finger Desmond could see that Kylie was becoming sexually aroused.

“I think your back passage is free from contraband,” said Lyn after a while.. “Let's see what you've got hidden in here.” And she began to stroke the outer lips of Kylie's pussy. Desmond noted, with approval, the young woman was totally free of pubic hair.

Kylie realized that the body search had become a finger fuck but she remained in position, bent over the chair. If  I let her do this to me she can't report me to the cops, she thought. Besides, it feels good…

Lyn massaged the young woman's cunt and clitoris. Kylie's breathing became labored and her nipples hardened noticeably. When Lyn inserted two fingers into the young woman's slit and went hunting for a G spot Kylie's legs began to tremble. She could not help but give a moan of pleasure as Lyn expertly massaged her towards a climax which arrived suddenly.

With unrestrained zeal and cries of “Oh, my God!,” Kylie came noisily.

Lyn stepped back and removed the disposable gloves.

“I think she is ready for you, Sir, if you've a mind to …” said Lyn into her microphone. The ex policewoman was panting with unrequited lust. Her right hand was rubbing her crotch. She hoped Desmond would signal that the pretense of legality was at an end and that he would give her the all-clear to make the little bitch receive the thrashing and rough sex their “special” cases invariably suffered.

“No. Not yet,”  interrupted Desmond. “Her accomplice must be about to leave the hair-dressing salon. I would like you to bring her here for-um-processing.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Lyn sharply, her disappointment manifest. “Stand up,” she barked at Kylie.

“I must commend your preliminary investigation of the younger member of the thieving pair, Lyn,” said Desmond, sensing his assistant's disappointment. “Perhaps you can repeat the success with the older member of the duo later.”

Lyn brightened at the prospect.Good, he means to fuck them both, she thought

“You can leave the little lady with me for the time being.”

Lyn thrust Kylie's linen blouse at the confused teenager. “Put it on and go and see the Major,” she snapped. “As a result of the search, you will only be charged with the theft of the perfume we found in your blazer pocket. The Major will give you a choice. Either we turn you over to the police or, perhaps, in light of the minor nature of the theft, you can be considered eligible for an alternative process. The Major will explain.”

When Lyn left the office Desmond invited Kylie to sit on the hard wooden chair. He stood over her and handed her a clip-board to which was attached a complicated looking legalistic document. He told her to read it, and if she agreed, sign the document.

The young woman was conscious that she was wearing neither pants nor bra and that she had been given no time to button up her blouse before she had been given the clip board to hold. She peered at the official looking document.

Kylie couldn't understand half of what was written. The print was small and the wording was legalistic and complicated. She was aware she was leaking juice onto her short skirt and that  her fine linen blouse was gaping open to reveal her still proud pink nipples, despite her attempts to button it up with one hand. She had only fastened two of the buttons and was aware that the 'Major' was ogling her breasts and was sporting an erection that was tenting his trousers in a most aggressive manner. 

Desmond leaned over the hesitant teenager. “It's quite simple,” he said. “You sign to admit to having been caught stealing from the store and agree that, as an alternative to being handed over to the police, you will accept a suitable corrective process administered by myself and or my deputy as representatives of the store.”

“What do you mean, by 'a suitable corrective process', Sir?,” she asked.

The “Major” straightened up. “Well, in your case a smacked bottom would be appropriate I feel.”

Kylie looked startled. 

“A spanking?” she gasped.

“That sort of thing,” said the Major. For a start, he thought.

On the CCTV screen labeled “Barber” she saw the fierce Miss Ash take a seat in the hairdressing salon behind the older woman into whose bag Kylie had dropped a vial of scent. Lyn picked up a copy of The New Yorker and winked at the camera. With her left hand she indicated five minutes before she could pounce.

“What would you use to-er-spank me, sir?” 

“Well, I would use my hand but Miss Ash prefers a cane or an old-fashioned dog-whip. We can discuss the details after you have signed and I have witnessed your signature.” He gave her a pen and indicated the space at the foot of the document.

“Oh, dear,” wailed Kylie. She hesitated to sign. “Please, I'll sign if you do it, not her. Please, sir!”

Desmond nodded . Kylie scribbled her signature.

“I'm not sure that I am being fair to Miss Ash,” said Desmond. “We sometimes bend the rules but a female offender like yourself is usually dealt with by a female member of my staff-her.” He leaned over the seated young woman to counter-sign the bogus confession. His erection pressed into her shoulder. Kylie turned as he straightened up. Her head was level with Desmond's straining crotch. She reached for the swelling, caressed it and slid off the chair and onto her knees. The “Major” remained standing over her. He made no move to back away.

“Please, sir. I'll do anything but don't let her use a whip on me.” Her hands fumbled for the zipper.

“Ah,” said the security manager as Kylie's frantic fingers released his fettered erection and stroked its length, spreading the natural lubricant that oozed from its tip.

“Well,” said Desmond, affecting reluctance. “I'm not sure…”

“Please,sir,” Kylie begged, “You punish me with your hand, not her with a whip. Let me suck you off. I've done it before.” Once, she thought, with that bastard who ran off with Mummy last year.

“How could I refuse such an offer?” 

He unfastened his belt and pulled his trousers and under pants to below his  knees.. Kylie goggled at the size of his cock.  Her hand could not encircle it completely. His scrotum hung down like a ram's.
.
“Before you wrap your generous lips around my cock and fondle my bollocks tell me who is the woman Miss Ash is about to arrest?”

“My mother, sir,” said Kylie.

“Don't be absurd. She's barely ten years older than you. Lying to me will only increase the severity of your punishment.”

“My step-mother, sir. Gabrielle. She's seven years older than me. She married my Dad after Mum ran off with my music teacher. I hate her. I only put the perfume in her bag to get her into trouble,” gabbled Kylie before stretching her mouth wide to accept the head of the “Major's” baton.

“Well you certainly succeeded in getting her into trouble,” said Desmond with a saisfied grunt as Kylie applied herself to the task in hand. The sight of the young woman's full lips stretched around his thick-veined cock added to the “Major's” pleasure. “How much do you hate her? Do you want to see her beaten?”

Kylie nodded so enthusiastically that Desmond's cock popped out of her mouth and a thin stream of precum dripped onto her chest between her breasts.. When the young woman had again managed to fit his cock in her mouth Kylie unbuttoned her blouse further and with one hand rubbed the lubricant onto her tits and around her little pink nipples.

“In that case,” said the “Major”, “just keep quiet when I assert that the two of you were working as a team. She'll know you're behind the theft she's accused of but we will insist she, as the older woman, is responsible and we will see to it that she is suitably chastised.”

Kylie's eyes shone with agreement.

 “Oh, that's very very lovely, Kylie. What an agile little tongue you have,” groaned Desmond as he approached his climax. “You'll have to swallow my cum. All of it. Ahhhhh. We don't want Miss Ash or your stepmother guessing what we've been up to, do we?'

Kylie shook her head and nearly lost control of Desmond's jetting cock. 

On the screen Lyn Ash could be seen quietly escorting Kylie's stepmother towards the elevator.

“Right,” said Desmond not bothering to wipe his softening member as he pulled up his pants. “Bend over the chair, Kylie.”

“W…Why?” asked the startled teenager.

“Because when I tell Miss Ash I have punished you she will want to see the evidence. A couple of livid hand prints should satisfy her. So bend over now.”

Kylie reluctantly did as she was told. Desmond flipped the hem of her skirt up to expose the shapely  mounds of Kylie's buttocks. He delivered a stinging slap to both cheeks. Kylie yelled and began to cry. She was still weeping and trying to button up her blouse when Miss Ash and Kylie's stepmother entered the security office.

Gabrielle O'Malley  was a little taller and a little rounder than her step daughter. Her breasts were much larger. She was also blonde and her recently cut and styled hair do was fashionably cropped close to her head giving her a slightly masculine appearance. She was wearing a lightweight woolen suit with a cashmere top and pearls. The brooches on her fashionable high heeled shoes also sported a small cluster of the lustrous gems which didn't look at all false to Desmond.

“This is Gabrielle O'Malley, Major,” said Lyn Ash. “She claims she has not taken anything from the perfumery…”

“Mrs O'Malley, if you please,” said Gabrielle angrily and before she registered the presence of her step daughter. 

