Where the hell was her purse, Irene racked her brain. She must have left in on her desk at work. She was in her local convenience store to collect a couple of things on her way home from work. The annoying thing was that that shop was busy and due to close in five minutes so she did not have time to get home and pick up some cash and get back before it shut. Also she didn’t fancy waiting in the queue to persuade the assistant to let her take the few things and call back tomorrow to pay. The assistant looked new but she had been coming here for years and knew Mr Wright the manager well, he would not have a problem she knew that, he had let her do it before. Sod it she thought, the items were not worth more than a tenner. She would just take them and call back and pay Mr Wright in the morning when it was quieter. She put the couple of things in her bag and strode out of the door. She was about 15 yards from the shop and almost at her car when she felt a firm hand on her shoulder and “EXCUSE ME! Please come with me, I think you have stolen something from the shop!” “Oh no, there has been a mistake, I am going to pay Mr Wright for it tomorrow!” protested Irene turning to be faced by a stern looking man of about 50 who she had never seen before. “I don’t know about that” the man said “We will have to sort this out in the office”. Without saying a further word he took Irene firmly by the elbow and steered her back to the shop. He did not respond or even acknowledge her pleas of ‘‘We can sort this out’’ and “It was a mistake’’, he simply marched her along the pavement back to the shop. As they approached the shop front, Irene noticed that the door was shut and the ‘CLOSED’ sign was showing in the window. The man who was leading Irene to the shop barged open the door which was not locked and pushed her inside, before following and closing the door behind him. Irene was feeling a little dizzy with shock and was very worried about what she had done as she realised that the shop was now empty and she heard the bolts being engaged and the blinds on the door and shop window being pulled down. “May I speak with Mr Wright please” Irene said in what she hoped was a confident way, although in her head it sounded very feeble; she was sure that when she spoke with him, the manager would understand that she was not trying to steal anything. “What has Mr Wright got to do with anything?” was the man’s response. “He is the manager’’ Irene replied. “No he isn’t!” was the immediate retort. He continued “Mr Wright has been, shall we say ‘retired’, Head Office didn’t think the performance of this shop was as good as it should be so I am here to sort things out. From what I have seen in my first couple of days it is clear why it was underperforming, there were some ‘unusual’ things going on and they have stopped. Anyway, never mind about that history, what are we going to do about your ‘misdemeanour’?” He led her to the office at the back of the shop and he slumped in a chair in front of the desk, Irene looked round and sat on a chair to the side of the desk. Just as she was putting her bag on the floor she realised that he was staring at her with distain, “I did not invite you to sit down did I?” “Err no’’ Irene replied nervously. “Well STAND UP then!” he shouted causing Irene to leap up in fright. “Have a look at this” he said as he nodded towards the computer screen on his desk. What Irene saw as a grainy black and white ‘video’ clip which must have been taken from the shop’s security camera. On the screen Irene saw herself putting items into her bag and walking quickly out of the door. What shocked Irene the most was just how furtive she appeared, what had been her thinking about whether or not to queue and get permission to pay tomorrow, did, she had to admit to herself, look like she was around to see if she was being observed. “Shall we have a look in your bag” the man said, the words were those of a question but the tone of his voice was clear, there was only one answer. Irene nervously lifted her bag from where she had placed it on the floor and passed it to him. He lifted out of it the things that she knew were there, but what shocked her was the fact that the bottle of wine was a much more expensive one than she would normally have selected, the price tag which she was only seeing for the first time said £35! “So, fifty-one pounds and forty seven pence, quite a haul, if you had got away with it” he said as he reached for the phone. “What are you doing’’ asked a now very concerned Irene. “Calling the police, what do you think? Head Office has a very strict policy when it comes to dealing with shoplifters!” “But I am not a shoplifter” protested Irene. “Let us look at the evidence shall we?” the man sneered. “You are on video, putting items worth over fifty pounds in your bag, looking around in what I think we can safely describe as a guilty manner to see if you are been watched and walking straight out of the door without paying. Surely an open and closed case of shoplifting in anyone’s book?” It was dawning on Irene just what a predicament she had got herself into. “Yes, but I had forgotten my purse…..I was going to call back tomorrow and pay.” “If I had a pound for every time a shoplifter had used that story!” his tone getting sterner. “You can’t report this to the police I will lose my job!” Irene was trying to keep the desperation out of her voice but failing miserably. “Shouldn’t you have perhaps thought about that before you pilfered from my shop?” “I will pay you double tomorrow” Irene was almost pleading now “but don’t call the police, please’’ “Well you don’t expect me to let you off scot free do you? You are not a silly little schoolgirl are you, you are a mature woman. Look at you in your smart business suit; you don’t look as though you have to steal to get by.” “I am silly that I accept’’ offered Irene “and no I don’t need to steal, as I say I will repay you in full tomorrow.’’ “Perhaps you did it for the thrill” he suggested. “It really is out of my hands, I have to apply the Head Office policy and it has to be the police”. He reached for the phone again. “But I was just silly, I have never done anything like this before”, Irene sobbed. “Well, you know how silly little school girls are punished don’t you?” Irene noted a tone to his voice that suggested he may be waivering about involving the police. But the look on his face suggested that what he was hinting at would not be any more attractive. “Who are you anyway?” Irene thought to herself but then realised that she had said it out loud. “I am the man who can turn you over to the police……or be persuaded otherwise!” he said, slowly looking her up and down from her black flat work shoes to the broach at the collar of her cream blouse before staring intently straight into her eyes. “What do you mean?” Irene ventured. “Well like I say, you have acted like a naughty school girl, haven’t you?” ‘Yes, I suppose so” Irene admitted. “and how are naughty school girls punished?” he continued. “What? You want me to write out some lines or something? ‘I must not shoplift’, a hundred times or something?” Irene’s voice was faltering. The man let out a loud and evil laugh and grinned widely, with his facial expression turning into a smirk. “No, naughty school girls get SPANKED!” “You think you should spank me?” said Irene “Well, that is just not going to happen!” “Yes, of course you are right’’ said the man, still grinning “you are an adult and will be punished like one” and with that he picked up the phone and slowly but very obviously punched in 9......9.....! Irene’s head was spinning, she could not face the police but what was the alternative? “OK Stop!” she spat out. At this the man replaced the telephone receiver, raised one eyebrow and looked at her quizzically. “OK, you win” she said “I don’t want you to go to the police so what now” “So you want me to spank you?” his grin seemed to be getting wider if that was possible. “Well no, I certainly don’t want you to spank me but I want you to involve the police even less” was Irene’s almost whispered reply. “You call me Mr Crosby, or Sir” he said “What is your name, address and contact number?” In a daze about what may happen, Irene simply provided Mr Crosby with the information that he recorded in a little notebook he took from his pocket. He then said “So Irene, you don’t want me to call the police. Tell me what you deserve”. Irene knew what he wanted and thought it best to simply comply “I deserve to be spanked Sir. What happens now?” Irene suddenly realised to her horror that a bit of her, albeit a very small bit, actually wanted to be spanked! “We start with you removing your coat and jacket” he said with a sneer in his voice to match the leer in his look. Irene shrugged her black over coat off her shoulders and hung it on the back of the spare chair that she had nearly sat on until the man who she now knew as Mr Crosby or Sir, again against her better judgement she preferred to think of him as Sir, had shouted to stop her. Following that was the jacket of her charcoal grey business suit, she stood before him in her matching skirt that came to just above her knees, her cream blouse, black stockings and flat black work shoes. Unusually she had worn hold-up stockings to work that day as opposed to her usual tights. Again he looked her up and down, even more slowly than before. He then stood up and she realised that he was a man of average height but he did have an air of authority, he was certainly not like Mr Brown the old manager, whom she could wrap around her little finger. Mr Crosby was completely different ‘kettle of fish’; she knew that no one wrapped him around their finger. He had piercing deep blue eyes, fairly short ‘salt and pepper’ hair and with close trimmed beard. He had powerful looking arms and looked a little like he had put on a few pounds over what looked like it had been a fit sportsman’s body. He motioned her in front of the end of the main desk, she moved into position almost by his will alone, he moved behind her. “Lift up your skirt and show me your arse!” his crudeness fed the bit of her that wanted this to happen, a bit that was getting bigger! Almost to her own surprise her hands moved to the hem at the back of her skirt and inched it higher. Slowly she exposed the top of her stockings, then the bare white flesh above them and then her white panties, only stopping when the hem of her skirt was level with the waistband. There was a long silence as she stood there exposed anticipating what was to happen next. The fact that she felt nervous and vulnerable was expected, what she could not believe was that it was tinged with inexplicable excitement! “Right, hold the skirt up there with your hands crossed behind your back and bend forward from your waist, keeping your legs straight” Mr Crosby instructed. Irene did as he said and leant to about 45 degrees forward only to hear him snort “Err no! Properly, lean until your nose touches my desk!” when she had done this he gave his next instruction “Move your legs further apart”. Irene realised that she had her legs clamped together and move them until her feet were about 12 inches apart and stopped. “FURTHER” was his command which was accompanied by his toe tapping at the insides of her heels. He did not stop until her feet were at least 18 inches wide. She was then taken by surprise with a stinging smack’ expertly placed on her right buttock followed in quick succession by another firm smack to match on her left, each hit generating a yelp. His hand had landed at the point where the edge of her panties met her milky thigh and it stung! She felt her arse warming already. She hardly caught her breath before four more sharp smacks landed, two on each buttock! He leaned down so his mouth was close to her ear and said “I forgot to say how many smacks your little misdemeanour warranted. What do you think?” Irene was unsure whether or not it was a rhetorical question or not, but said quietly “Surely six is enough” that being the number she had already received. His sniggering reply was “WRONG answer!” before continuing “you would have been rewarded if your answer had been “However, many you consider appropriate Sir” and immediately a sequence of increasingly hard blows rained down on her now tender buttocks. Some landed completely on her pantie covered buttocks but others fell completely on the exposed flesh of her upper thighs. When he paused for a moment the stinging Irene felt intensified and she bit her lip to quell further cries out which she felt were encouraging him. “Right then”, he said as he stood back and admired the increasing redness of her arse “drop your panties to your knees” completing his command. Irene was racked with shame but knew that not obeying his instruction was not an option. She eased her panties over her buttocks and down until they were stretched at her knees. She heard him opening a draw behind her and the next thing she felt was a leather riding crop between her thighs, flashing backwards and forwards landing on the tender flesh of her inner thighs as she was ‘encouraged’ to open her legs wider. This she did but it was not easy and stretched her panties to near to what she thought must be snapping point. Without further warning the blows from the crop landed. Working their way from mid-thigh up to the top of her buttocks a centimetre at a time, first left and then right. The blows stopped almost as suddenly as they had started but what followed was ‘worse’ the riding crop was ‘nuzzled’ against her vagina which confirmed what she already realised, that she was moist, no not moist, she was wet! He moved the crop to under her nose and she smelled the odour that proved that she had been excited by her ‘punishment’. “I thought I detected that you would enjoy this Irene” Mr Crosby laughed. “I did NOT enjoy it!” Irene protested. The next thing that happened did shock her, he slipped two fingers into her vagina, they slid in easily as she was well lubricated. Then he held his fingers to her mouth and ordered her to “taste how excited you are!” “Right” he said wiping her saliva off his fingers on onto her raised skirt “that will do for now.............” he left it hanging. Irene stood up sharply, pulled up her panties (that caused more stinging as the elasticated waistband was dragged over her very red and tender buttocks) and brushed down her skirt. “What do you mean; “for now”? You have had your bit of fun, this is over now” she continued angrily. He simply looked up at the wall above the door and pointed. Her eyes followed and saw for the first time a video camera pointed in a direction that would have caught her ‘punishment’ in full view. Her face dropped as he smiled and said “I am sure you wouldn’t want either the clip of you shoplifting OR the clip of you enjoying your punishment getting a wider release would you.......” To be continued?