Snea Thief

I was in the kitchen at the time. It was by the purest chance that I was standing where I couldn't be seen from outside even if whoever was there was specifically looking for someone. Having failed to see me a hand reached through a slit in the fly wire screen (a slit that should not have been there) and took a mug that was on the counter.

At least, that was the apparent intention of the thief. What actually happened was that I took hold of the person's wrist and held it very firmly. I then stretched over to the junk drawer where I was quite sure I'd find a ball of string, extracted the string and proceeded to tie it around the wrist and then onto the tap.

"Don't go away," I called out the window, and moved smartly out the back door and around to the side of the house where I found a young lady trying to get free from the string.

"Let me help you with that, Jenny," I said, reaching over and tugging on the knot, letting it pop open. Fancy knots are easy to undo if you know how. Jenny didn't.

"Why don't you step inside so we can have a chat?" I suggested.

"I don't think so," she said, starting to back away.

"If that's how you feel," I said with a shrug. "It doesn't really matter. I know who you are and I can identify you to the police."

"The police? You've got to be joking. They're not going to come out just because I tried to borrow a mug. I didn't even get it."

I just gave her a happy smile. As a bit of background, the neighbourhood had been plagued for the past few weeks with a petty thief. Very petty. Some minor item you think you should have suddenly turns up missing. Things like a favourite mug. It took a bit of gossip and whining before it dawned on us that we had a sneak thief in our midst. Now I knew who.

"If you paid attention to what people have been doing then you'd know that we've been trying to stir the police into action over these thefts. Anyone who had something go missing has been trotting over to the cop shop and making a formal complaint. The police are starting to hate the sight of us. So, shall we have a little chat?"

I indicated that she should precede me into the kitchen and she went, stamping her feet angrily.

"Well?" she demanded as soon as we were inside.

"You've been a damn nuisance," I told her. "I've half a mind to just toss you to the police and let them worry about you. Still, I don't really want to see you in the slammer for such minor offences."

"You've got to be kidding. The most I'd get would be a fine. Probably not even that. Just a stern lecture from the judge."

"It might be a bit more than that. With evidence you did one of the crimes the police would naturally charge you with all the thefts. They add up, you know. And then there's the victim impact statements."

"You're kidding. What victim impact?"

"Do you remember lifting a small wooden picture frame? From me?"

I could see that she did, so I continued.

"I know the frame didn't have a picture but it had great sentimental value to me. My brother made that with his own two hands before he died."

"Wasn't much of a carpenter," she muttered, but I heard it anyway.

"True," I said cheerfully. "He's a lot better now."

Jenny looked a trifle confused. "You just said he made it before he died," she protested.

"He did. It's a bit hard to make something after you die, except fertilizer. The point is, it was a source of great embarrassment to him. He wanted to replace it and I wouldn't let him. And now it's gone."

"You made me think he was dead," she accused.

"Oh. Did I? Didn't mean to. That's all beside the point. We need to decide whether to toss you over to the cops, which means everyone in the neighbourhood will know you're the thief, or deal with you myself."

"B-but I've never taken anything that anyone needs. They were just silly little pranks."

"But you don't know how much someone might value something. You were potentially stealing beloved memories. So, cops or me?"

"If I say you, what happens?"

"I administer a fitting punishment and you will retire from the thieving business. You will also return what you can of your loot."

"How am I supposed to return it?"

"Put it all in a bag and leave it in front of Mrs Higgins door. She'll be delighted to run around telling everyone that she's found it."

I could see she found that idea appealing. Mrs Higgins was an arch-busybody, always into everyone's business.

"What sort of punishment do you intend to give? If I agree, that is."

"Good question. A juvenile streak of mischief so a juvenile type of punishment. There again, you're not exactly a juvenile so maybe a more adult type of punishment. I was thinking I should either spank you or fuck you. Both have a certain appeal. What do you think? It'll just be one or the other."

"You can't fuck me," she said, sounding as though she meant it. "I'm married, remember."

"Well, yes, but I just considered that as one reason why I could fuck you. It means that you're not a timid virgin, petrified that a man might see your panties."

"I suppose I'll have to go along with the spanking, damn you."

"And I won't hear of any more light-fingered antics, will I!"

"No." She didn't seem happy.

I pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. Reaching out I took her arm and guided her into position. She was reluctant, very reluctant, but she didn't struggle. Just made sure she moved towards her doom very slowly.

As soon as she was in position I flicked her dress up out of the way, something that she immediately protested.

"Don't be naïve," I told her. "Do you seriously think I'm not going to spank your bare bottom?"

"You didn't say anything about that?" she half-screamed.

"I'd have thought it self-evident," I said dismissively, lowering her panties to the sound of another half scream. (That one just a sound of inarticulate fury.)

"Don't go getting panicky," I told her. "I'll just be smacking your bottom. I won't touch you here at all, assuming you keep your legs together."

To demonstrate where I wouldn't be touching I patted her pudenda. It was amazing how fast her legs came together at that moment.

I had no intention of spanking her hard, not wanting her to have to explain away bruises on her bottom. I was just going to deliver some stinging spanks that would let her know that she'd screwed up and been caught. That was all I intended.

I ask you, was it my fault that her legs drifted apart after only a couple of spanks? No, it was not. She'd been warned about that so I dropped a small spank on her vulva just to remind her. She made a yipping sound but damned if she didn't leave her legs parted. Another smack to her bottom was followed by another small spank landing on her vulva, which was again met by a yip and no action taken to close her legs.

I could take a hint. From that point on her spanking consisted of equal parts bottom beating to pussy petting. Her lips were swollen and pursed, her inner lip already protruding slightly, and a gleam of moisture was showing.

I finished the spanking with one firm spank to her bottom and swung her to her feet. Her face was flushed and she was breathing hard and I could see her nipples pressing against her dress. I turned her to face away from me.

"Lean forward and put your hands on your knees," I told her.

"Why?"

"Just do it," I snapped, and wasn't really surprised to see her obey.

"Move your feet further apart," I told her, and she pulled one foot loose from her panties and moved them. I reached down and started rubbing against her mound, a couple of fingers easing inside her.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, but I figured that if she didn't know she'd find out fast enough.

I stepped closer to her, dropping my trousers as I did so. Now my erection was between her legs, rubbing back and forth against her.

"Are you going to. . ." she began, but I broke in.

"Quiet. I didn't give you permission to speak."

She promptly shut up and as far as I was concerned that proved it to me. She was totally submissive where sex was concerned.

I played with her for a couple more minutes, with her getting more and more restless. She finally got up the courage to accuse me of breaking my word.

"You said it would just be the spanking," she gasped out. "You said."

"That's right. The spanking was your penalty."

With that I spread her lips a little and started moving into her.

"Then why are you fucking me?"

"Because I want to," I said. "Are you going to say no at this stage?"

To ensure that she understood precisely what stage we were at I drove home rather forcefully, sheathing myself very nicely inside her, my hands holding her hips to steady her as I went in.

She didn't actually answer my question, but she did push back to meet me as I drove in. I guess that served as an adequate answer. I held where I was for a moment, while my hands moved up inside her dress. Locating her bra I unclipped it and reached for her breasts, my hands closing over them and holding them firmly.

From that point on I proceeded to have my fun, thrusting into her and playing with her breasts as I did so. If she was reluctant about the whole affair she had a strange way of showing it. She was squealing and carrying on, exhorting me to do more, pushing back to meet my every thrust.

Not being in any particular hurry and totally enjoying the feel of flesh against flesh I just took my time, setting up a rhythm that would let me continue for a while. Yeah, I was quite happy to drift along like this for a bit longer.

It turned out that Jenny wasn't. It slowly registered on me that she was making funny sounds and when I turned my attention to her I found that she was trying to tell me to finish it before she killed me.

Well, really, if that was the way she felt then perhaps I should oblige. I tightened my hold on her breasts and started driving in more forcefully. She must have been closer to the edge than I realised as I'd barely got started when she screamed and had a very noisy climax. Not that it worried me as I had my own climax while she was sounding off.

I pulled up my trousers and Jenny hastily put her panties back on. She threw me an evil look.

"If you say one word about this I'll call you a liar," she snapped at me.

"Fair enough," I said. "But it's only fair to warn you that if I hear of anything else going missing due to sticky fingers I'll expect to find you back here. Just for a spanking, of course."

She just gave me another look and stalked out of the house. It wasn't until she was long gone that I noticed my mug was missing.