"Thou shalt not steal". I'd heard the words my whole life and had obeyed them fastidiously until my fourteenth birthday. I'd been pissed off that all my presents had been crap, so I'd gone to Target and somehow found myself in the parking lot half an hour later with a bracelet I liked and a couple of cds I wanted. Birthday presents to myself. Cool !

Boosting stuff was one of the few things I'd ever been any good at - and since my daddy was a full-time drunk, we were full-time poor. I was continually broke, so I pretty much stole my way all through high school. I liked to look cute, so I made sure I always had the newest clothes. And all the latest cds. I wasn't selfish; my friends and family got great birthday presents and Christmas gifts. And I got a wicked thrill every time I got away with it. What a rush ! It was really the best feeling, EVER . . .

Then I got a financial hardship scholarship and went out-of-state to college, and that whole "light-fingered" chapter of my life was just sort of over with. College was a lot harder than high school had been, so I really had to hit the books just to keep up. My family and most of my friends were back home, so I didn't worry about birthday presents and all that. I just buckled down and studied.
And somehow, I managed to graduate. Along the way, I picked up a sweet-natured boyfriend who turned into a wonderful husband as soon as I found out I was pregnant.

Daniel and I ran away to Vegas and had ourselves an Elvis-themed wedding, complete with two complete strangers as our witnesses. We stayed in Vegas for a week and won a couple of thousand dollars. We bought ourselves a car with most of the money. Life was good.

For the next year or two, we lived here and there until we found a place where the schools were good and we could both get decent jobs. We bought a cute little house with a big fenced-in yard for Joeli to run around around and play in. Her pre-school was just a ten-minute walk from our house. We liked our neighbors and our neighborhood.

Despite having completed a degree in electrical engineering, Daniel had decided on a different career path. When he'd been a poor college student, he'd had to do all his own auto repairs and had become an ace mechanic. He specialized in foreign cars, rationalizing that the people who owned those snazzy little numbers would be able to afford to lay out a little extra cash for repairs and maintenance.

I was a social worker for the state and worked primarily with troubled teen-aged girls. Most of these girls had been either emotionally, sexually or physically mistreated. Their pain and anger manifested itself in the usual ways: bullying, truancy, drug and alcohol problems, sexual promiscuity, shoplifting.

Until I took the job, I had kind of totally forgotten about my past experiences in stealing. Or maybe I hadn't forgotten them, but I'd managed to store them away somewhere so deep in the back of my brain that I was able to completely ignore them. I was good at my job because I understood all-too-well the thrill of picking up a piece of merchandise and making it through the store doors and then outside; home free . . . with my heart hammering like crazy inside my chest and the sound of my blood pumping loudly in my ears . . . I knew all about the incredible rush and the flash of adrenaline that pulsed insanely through every cell of my being before, during and immediately after the act - and how I somehow felt everything incredibly intensely - while at the same time, all my actions were automatic and robotic - like everything was taking place in some parallel dimension.

But that was then and this is now . . . and yeah, Daniel and I had a good life and we knew it. We were both healthy, and Joeli was healthy and she was a sweet-natured, happy little girl. We didn't have a lot of money to throw around, but we managed to take vacations and we were able to make nice birthdays and Christmases for our daughter. But like a lot of other people, we got caught up in the whole mortgage thing that happened last year, and our expenses suddenly skyrocketed. And right after that one of Daniel's main clients, a plastic surgeon who owned a whole collection of foreign sports cars - got married and moved out of town, taking at least twenty percent of Daniel's income with him. We told ourselves not to panic, but things were getting too close to the bone for comfort. We ran through our meager savings in just a few months. I started worrying.

One day when Joeli was at pre-school, I got bored so I went to the mall to kill a little time before Daniel picked her up on his way home from work. The very first store I went to, a silver and garnet bracelet caught my eye. Before I knew what I was doing, I'd slipped it on my wrist and was sliding out the front door. While I was in the store, I was cool as a cucumber . . . but by the time I'd made it safely to my car, my knees were knocking and I was trembling and covered with sweat. The old familiar "my heart is about to hammer itself right out of my chest" feeling was back - bigger and stronger than ever. My panties were damp in the crotch. My stomach was heaving. I felt like I was going to throw up. I was hyperventilating. I remembered this feeling well. I loved it and wanted more of it.

I went to a few more stores that afternoon, and by the time I made it home, I had another bracelet, a pair of earrings and a scarf. I certainly didn't want to keep the stuff - it was all about the thrill for me; I only stole stuff I didn't like - so I sold it all on Ebay. I got almost $300.00 for the stuff, which really came in handy when it came time to pay the bills that week.

Many times that week, I thought about doing it again. - but I always fought the urge because I felt like such a hypocrite when I'd go to work and have to talk to the girls in my care about them walking the straight and narrow and keeping their noses clean. I worked off my constant frustration by fucking Daniel's brains out every single night and waking him up in the morning with a long, slow blowjob. I tried hard to pretend everything was now and was going to be alright in the future.

But then the bills started rolling in and I found myself at the mall more and more often. I came home with lots of goodies. I told myself it was sort of like having a part time job. I specialized in stealing scarves and small jewelry. I was able to sell it all on Ebay, and it sure felt good to be paying off all those bills !

I guess it had to happen sooner or later (I guess I just always thought it would be later) . . . one day I was on my way out the door with a pair of $40.00 earrings in my bag when I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. I turned around to face a beefy female security guard who told me to come with her and not make a fuss. She told me she'd had her eye on me for a couple of weeks now, and had finally caught me red-handed.

I almost peed in my pants as she shoved me against the wall and hancuffed me with my hands behind my back. Then she forced me to follow her back inside and through the store to the security room. I stared down at the floor in shame as my face flamed with embarrassment. I never thought this would happen to me - not really . . . Sure it was always a possibility, but I'd done it so many times and for so long I felt immune. Other people got caught - careless people - but not me. Never.

The security office was small and cramped and reeked of stale cigarette smoke. The security guard (her badge said her name was Joyce) shoved me down in a hard wooden chair and read me the riot act. I still couldn't believe I'd gotten caught. Evidently I wasn't as good as I thought I was. She showed me footage of myself shoving stuff in my bag and pockets, obviously from different dates because I was wearing different clothes in all of them. I hadn't intended to, but I'd always managed to make sure my face was partially hidden.

Joyce picked up my purse and dumped it out on her desk. I'd been on a mission that afternoon and had nicked loads of stuff, some things from this store and some from others in the mall. She moved all the stolen items to one side and looked at me. She sat on the edge of the desk and crossed her legs as she told me I was in some serious trouble.

Then she stood up and snapped on a pair of blue latex gloves and began to pull my top up and unfasten my bra. I protested, but Joyce said she could search me here or call the police and let them do it down at the police station. My wrists were hurting and I resigned myself to being strip searched and told Joyce I would cooperate if she would take the handcuffs off.

My hands shook as I slowly took my clothes off. My nipples got hard when they were exposed to the air. I tried awkwardly to cover myself. Joyce laughed as she pushed me over on the desk on my belly and told me to spread my legs so she could do a cavity search. She smacked me hard on my bottom a few times. I was in shock.

She shoved two meaty fingers rudely up my twat and spead my pussy lips wide apart. I felt the heat of her flashlight as she peered up inside my vagina. I squirmed in shame as I also felt my pussy getting wet. Then she shoved her fingers way up inside me and started fishing around like she was looking for something. I was trying to twist myself away from her, but she grabbed my shoulder and held me in place. I'd swear she was finger-fucking me. I was getting so wet I could smell my own pussy. Then Joyce pulled her fingers out of my cunt and shoved them up my ass and repeated the drill . . . digging for buried treasure. I was embarrassed at how worked up I was getting.

I was freaking out and offering pay for all the stuff I'd stolen. I offered her money if she'd turn me loose. I told her I'd do whatever she wanted me to do - and I DID mean WHATEVER she wanted me to do . . . if she'd just let me go home without calling the cops. I was crying and hysterical and nearly ready to have an orgasm. She was definitely enjoying sliding her fingers in and out of my asshole. She loved the enjoyment she was getting from my discomfort.

Then she pulled her fingers out of my tight butthole and told me to sit on the edge of the desk. I was breathing hard and nearly ready to come. She told me if I promised to do exactly what she told me to do for the next hour or so, she'd consider letting me walk out a free woman. It was a gamble I was more than ready to take. She told me to lay down on the desk on my back and spread my legs apart. She played with my nipples and made them hard. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend none of this was happening to me.

Then one of her hands moved down to my hot and wet pussy. She started rubbing and twisting my clit. I was twisting and moaning and Joyce was laughing at me. She brought me right to the brink of orgasm and then stopped. She picked up a flashlight from the desk and handed it to me and told me to suck on it. It was so big I could scarcely get my mouth around it. As soon as I'd slobbered on it enough to lubricate it, she grabbed it from my mouth and shoved it up my cunt and started fucking me with it. I screamed. It hurt. My cunt had never been stuffed that full before. She was screwing me with that massive cold flashlight and staring intently into my face. I was sweating and panting and trying not to come, but it didn't do any good. I had a screaming orgasm; one of the best of my life as Joyce mashed on my clit and called me thieving low-life scum. She was still fucking me with the flashlight when she fastened her mouth on my clit and started sucking on it. She was licking the inside of my cunt lips when I came again.

I'd barely had time to catch my breath when Joyce grabbed me by my hair and pulled me up to a sitting position. She dropped her uniform pants and her underwear down around her ankles and ordered me to get down on my knees and take care of her. She had a big hairy, nasty pussy that I really didn't want to touch. But I had no choice, so I knelt down, spread her pussy lips and started licking her cunt. She held my head firmly in place and started rocking back and forth. I grabbed her fleshy ass and started sucking that nasty pussy. It seemed like it took forever, but finally she was moaning and gushing in my mouth.

Then she sat down on the wooden chair, pulled me over her lap and started spanking me - hard. It took me completely by surprize, so I started squirming and begging her to stop. Joyce was all worked up and was screaming at me about not stealing any more - not from her store and not from anyone else's store, either. My ass was stinging and I was crying and cumming when she pulled her pants up and shoved me out in the hall and threw my clothes after me, telling me everything that had happened in the security room had been recorded - and she wouldn't hesitate to use it against me the next time she saw me in her store.

I was so turned on, I dressed hurriedly, went home and fucked Daniel until the sun came up. He still knows nothing about my little escapades.