Karen thinks she has got away with shoplifting, but she has been seen and the choice she has to make is to be totally disgraced or have a very painful experience.

by Michael Scott

Karen sighed. It really was a bore having to do the shopping for her mother just so that she could go to her bridge morning. There were things she would rather be doing during the all-too-brief school holidays. She felt rather conspicuous, an eighteen year old in a supermarket filled with old ladies, several of whom were blocking the aisles with their trolleys while they nattered away to each other about nothing. Karen didn’t need a trolley since luckily there wasn’t that much to get. And anyway she had to walk home. She had driven her mother’s car a few times with her mother in the passenger seat, but she was not nearly ready to take her driving test yet.

There was one bright spot, however. The shopping would enable her to get something for the party on Saturday given by her friend Sally. It was a ‘Vicars and Tarts’ party and she had decided, perhaps along with a lot of other girls, to wear a short, really tarty skirt and seamed stockings with the suspenders clearly visible. She had a skirt which she thought would do, but she hadn’t yet bought the stockings. On the rare occasions she wore anything other than trousers or jeans she wore short, sometimes very short, skirts and brightly coloured tights. But her mother still wore stockings and suspenders; her father disliked tights intensely and refused to let her mother wear them. He would have liked Karen to wear stockings too, but her mother put her foot down there and said it was out of the question unless Karen wanted to. Karen clearly didn’t.

So she could have access to a suspender belt, but her mother never wore seamed stockings, and from what Karen had seen on TV, tarts generally wore seams. Now she was at the hosiery counter and amidst the rows of tights and hold-ups she saw a container with what were described as ‘fully-fashioned stockings’. Just the thing, she thought, and picked up a pair of the size she knew her mother wore.

As she did so, thoughts flashed through her mind. How embarrassing to be going through the checkout with a pair of seamed stockings. The girl would probably pick them up, look pointedly at the picture on the front of the packet showing an improbably well-endowed model posing in stockings and suspenders, and would look at Karen and think how odd that an attractive eighteen year old should wear such things, and Karen herself would almost certainly go red with embarrassment.

Almost without thinking Karen looked briefly round, saw that there was nobody in the aisle and popped the stockings not into her hand-held basket, but into her own shopping bag which she was holding in the same hand. As she did so she felt a thrill of fear coupled with excitement. “Oh well,” she said to herself. “It’s only a pair of stockings. It’s not really stealing.”


Howard Campbell was also in the supermarket, and recognised the girl who lived across the road from him and his wife. His wife was away visiting her sister for a few days so he had to do the shopping. The girl was called Karen and she was in her last year at the local girls’ comprehensive. The two families were on quite good but not intimate terms. His wife spoke to Karen’s mother when they met in the street from time to time, but that was about as far as it went.

He had always thought Karen an extremely attractive girl. She usually wore very tight trousers or jeans which showed off a lovely bottom. He might love his wife dearly, but he had frequent fantasies about Karen in general and her bottom in particular. It looked really right for a good spanking, or even a sound caning. He was sure she must have done something which merited it. His wife was, alas, not into such things and said that talk about spanking turned her off. It was not surprising, then, that he should get pleasure from imagining the sound spanking or caning of a curvaceous bottom such as Karen’s.

Karen had not seen him since he was in an adjoining aisle; he could see through a gap in the shelving that she seemed engrossed in a particular purchase. He was then amazed to see her pick out something and put it in her shopping bag rather then the basket. She then moved off and he hurried round to where she had been. He saw the rows of different hosiery items and then saw there was a gap in one of the containers where something had been removed. He was then even more amazed to see that it was the rack of fully-fashioned stockings. Karen wearing stockings and seamed ones at that? It seemed totally improbable. A lovely thought, but nonetheless improbable to the point of total impossibility.

He had to know more. He had finished his shopping so he went to a checkout which was free, had his items checked through and paid for them. His car was in the car park in front of the supermarket so he unloaded his shopping and sat down in the driver’s seat, from where he could see all the checkouts. He was fairly sure that Karen’s stockings would set off the alarm and she would be apprehended. He wondered if they would call the police or let her off with a caution. He wondered also if he should intervene and put in a good word for her. He also had some other thoughts.

He saw her come through the checkout, load her shopping into her own bag and make for the exit. He waited in feverish expectation for the alarm to go off, but nothing happened. Karen walked smartly through the door, as if nothing had happened. She had got away with it.


Karen wasn’t nearly as laid back as she looked when she left the supermarket. She was shaking with fear; she had, too late, realised that her little theft might set off the store’s alarm system, and what would happen then didn’t bear thinking about. When the automatic doors opened to let her out and nothing happened she almost wet herself with relief.

She was just starting to walk home, realising that her bag was heavier then she had expected, when she saw Mr Campbell from across the road at home. He was just getting out of his car, having obviously just seen her, and coming towards her.

“Would you like a lift home, Karen?” He asked.

“Oh yes please,” she said. “This bag is a lot heavier than I thought.”

“OK,” he said, and they started walking to his car. He then said conversationally: “I didn’t realise you wore seamed stockings.”

She laughed and said: “Actually I don’t really. These are for a ‘Vicars and Tarts’ party I’m going to on Saturday. My mother wears stockings so she can lend me a suspender b…” She stopped suddenly and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my gosh,” she said to herself. “He saw me take them and knows I didn’t pay for them.”

“You-you…” She stammered.

“Yes,” said Mr Campbell. “I saw you take them and put them in your own bag. You stole them.”

“It wasn’t really stealing,” she protested. “It was only a silly old pair of stockings, not worth all that much.”

They had now reached the car, and Howard told Karen to get in and then got in beside her.

“Why did you do it?” He asked. “Are you that short of money?”

“Not at all,” she said confidently. “I had enough money for a dozen pairs. No, I was just embarrassed at the thought the checkout girl might think I regularly wore such things. If you want I’ll go back and pay for them.”

“I don’t think it’s as easy as that,” said Howard. “They will want to know why you didn’t pay for them, and I shall come with you and tell them exactly why.”

Karen now seemed slightly less confident. “Why would you do that?” She asked.

“Because it may only be a ‘silly old pair of stockings’, as you put it, but it’s still stealing. Did you not see the notice at the front of the supermarket? – ‘Shoplifters beware, we always prosecute’.

Karen was now a good deal less confident. “What would happen?” She asked.

Howard Campbell was now getting into his stride. He had started this conversation almost shaking with nervous excitement. He had the glimmerings of a glorious outcome to this incident, one which would let him indulge one of his wildest fantasies. But he had to play his cards absolutely right.

“What would happen,” he said, “Is that the manager would ask you very politely to accompany him to his office, and he would phone the police. When the policeman arrived the manager would explain what had happened and the policeman would ask if the store wished to prosecute. The manager would say yes and you would be charged with theft. Eventually you would have to appear in court, and doubtless you would be advised to plead guilty. I doubt whether they would send you to prison,” (he heard a sharp intake of breath here from the girl beside him), “But they might fine you, or at the very least give you an absolute discharge.” What you would undoubtedly have would be a criminal record, something about which your parents, and possibly your headmistress, would not be very pleased.”

Howard was not sure whether this was entirely accurate, but it didn’t really matter since she obviously believed every word of it, and was getting paler and paler till she was as white as a sheet. Her previous confidence, almost arrogance, was now entirely gone and she was almost in tears.

“I couldn’t bear that.” She said. “Are you sure that my parents would have to know?”

“Of that I am quite sure,” said Howard. “Even if they didn’t prosecute, and that’s a very big if, they would certainly want your address and would contact your parents.”

Again since Karen was over eighteen he was not absolutely sure that would happen, but again she was in no doubt that it would.

She now was in tears. “Oh please, please,” she said through her tears. “Isn’t there anything you can do to stop it? I promise you that I’ll never, never do anything like this ever again.”

“Now look,” he replied. “I have been around roughly three times as long as you and I have on numerous occasions encountered people who said they’d never, ever do something again, and they usually mean it when they say it, because they hope that it will get them out of their sticky situation. But later, when they realise they got away with it, and the temptation comes along again, they give way again. And so it goes on. The next time you are shopping and see something you want and haven’t got enough money for it, you might be tempted to pop it into your handbag, and you might get away with it again, and then do it again, until one day you would be caught. I don’t want that to happen. You’re far too nice a girl to be branded a criminal and the shame of being in court now will hopefully deter you from doing it again.”

“Oh please, please,” she pleaded. “Can’t you deal with it? I’ll do anything you like….anything.”

Howard had a good idea what she meant by that, and it certainly wasn’t part of his plan to deflower her – he was pretty certain she was a virgin.

“I don’t think that’s any sort of solution”, he said firmly. “Have you had sex yet?”

She shook her head.

“Then,” he continued. “It certainly isn’t the solution. You don’t want to have sex until you are in a loving relationship with a man much more nearly your age, not with someone old enough to be your father just to get out of trouble.”

Karen was now in despair. She could see the whole ghastly scenario spreading out in front of her. She had thought this man might find her attractive and losing her virginity would have been a small price to pay. She knew a lot of her friends had had sex and she was anxious to get going as soon as possible as she felt she was the odd one out. And anyway she thought he was quite attractive for an older man in spite of the awful things he was saying. She thought hard and decided on another tack.

“I know I’ve been very silly,” she said, “and must be punished. But couldn’t you punish me yourself?”

This looked like the moment of truth for Howard. He tried very hard to keep his voice steady as he said: “What did you have in mind?”

“Couldn’t you,” she hesitated, “Say, give me a spanking?”

Now it was out. What he had hoped for and been working towards had happened – she had brought the matter up herself. Even now he had to tread warily.

“Have you ever been spanked?” He asked.

“My mother used to spank me sometimes,”, she said. “But it was a long time ago when I was much younger. My father once gave me a spanking with a clothes brush when I’d been really naughty and that really hurt. But there’s no corporal punishment at school. One of the older teachers told us that years ago the girls used to get the cane.” She stopped, looked thoughtful for a moment and then went on. “Perhaps that’s what you could do, give me a caning. I don’t expect I’d like it but…”

“No,” said Howard grimly. “I don’t expect you would.” Now was coming the coup de grace. Would she fall for it? “Well,” he went on. “Here’s the deal. I will undertake not to tell a soul about what has happened, and you will do likewise. In return you will come to my house and receive nine strokes of the cane on your bottom. As you have said, you will not like it since it will hurt a good deal, but I think it may prove a sufficient deterrent. Over the next week or two you will be able to see in the mirror the cane marks on your bottom and that will be a reminder of what you did and why you were caned.”

There was silence for a moment as what he had said sank in. When she had suggested the cane Karen had been trying to think of anything which might deter Mr Campbell from reporting her. She hadn’t really envisaged his accepting the suggestion; she had still been wildly hoping that he would say that that would not be necessary and perhaps she might get away with a few slaps on her bottom. However, clearly he was deadly serious and she realised that this was probably as good a deal as she would get.

The thought of nine strokes of the cane on her bottom was awful, but surely it was better than the alternative. She really had no other option, and had to hope that she could keep her caned bottom out of sight. This wouldn’t be a problem at home since it was years since her mother had seen her naked, but it might be difficult if the cane marks lasted more than a couple of weeks, since that was when the holidays ended and in the changing rooms after games the girls were used to going about with nothing on before and after showering. Perhaps she could say her dad had caned her, though it would be a bit thin since it had never happened before. She would have to think up a really bad bit of behaviour to justify her father taking a cane to her for the first time ever. Perhaps she could get out of games by pretending to have a bad leg or something. Then she’d have to go around with a limp and would almost certainly forget. Oh God, what was she going to do? And he wanted an answer here and now. Well, perhaps she would think of something. Meanwhile…..

“All right,” she said, and Howard breathed a sigh of relief which he hoped and prayed wasn’t audible. Karen was now brisk and businesslike. “My mother is away tomorrow visiting a relative so I can come round then.”

“Tomorrow will be fine,” said Howard. “My wife is also away, so we won’t be interrupted.”

“What do you want me to wear?” She asked.

Howard had a momentary thought that he might tell her to wear the seamed stockings she had just, well not bought, more acquired. It would be a nice irony for her to be caned while wearing the items which had given rise to the caning. But he dismissed the thought. It might turn him on to such an extent that he did something he might ultimately regret.

“Anything you like,” he said. “If you wear a skirt it will be lifted up, and trousers will be taken down since you’ll be caned over your knickers. So don’t wear anything too frilly or I’ll take them down too.” He hoped she wouldn’t be difficult about that since he felt that caning on her bare bottom, though an attractive thought, wouldn’t really do.

Karen and Campbell were both in a curious state of disbelief. Karen could hardly take in that this was happening to her, yet there seemed to have been an inevitable progression which she couldn’t stem. Campbell wondered if he was dreaming, having suddenly found himself on the verge of living out his fantasy. What made it so bizarre was that Karen had herself suggested the caning, a fact of which he might have to remind her.

“Right,” he said,. “I’ll drive you home now.” The drive was in silence, both of them reflecting on what had been said and, more importantly, what was going to happen the next day.

When he had dropped off Karen and her shopping. Howard sat for a few moments in his car and thought over the events of the morning. Earlier on he could not have supposed in his wildest dreams that by now he would have the opportunity to cane the bottom of an attractive girl, and at her request! He savoured the moment until he was brought up short by a shocking revelation.

He hadn’t got a cane!

How could he have been so stupid? He had been so carried away by the prospect of living out his fantasy that the practicalities of the situation had been rather glossed over. He couldn’t go back now. But how was he to manage? Suddenly he remembered that at the end of the main street in the town there was a shop which had a completely blank front apart from just the one word ‘Adult’. Could he get a cane there? He quickly started the engine and drove back to the shops, being lucky enough to park right outside the adult shop. Rather nervously he opened the door and went in. There was soft lighting inside and a baffling array of various sex aids on display, including a whole cabinet of miscellaneous vibrators of extraordinary shapes. He wondered what on earth one was supposed to do with them.

Now a woman came out from the back of the shop. She was middle-aged, wearing glasses, and was quite conventionally dressed in a white blouse and grey trousers.

“Can I help you, or are you just browsing?” She asked pleasantly. He suddenly felt rather tongue-tied. “I was wondering if y-y-you h-h-had,” he faltered then felt a surge of confidence, “any canes,” he finished.

“Yes of course,” she said, “we have three grades. There’s the junior cane, which is very whippy and does not do much more than sting. It doesn’t leave much in the way of marks. Then there’s the standard cane, which is like the old cane which used to be used up and down the country in schools. No longer, I’m afraid,” she added rather regretfully. Howard wondered if she had been a strict school mistress in earlier days. “Then there’s the senior cane, which can do serious damage with marks lasting a considerable time.”

Since he wanted to make Karen’s caning hurt a lot he wondered about the senior cane, but thought better of it and settled for the standard one. He was then asked whether he wanted it with a curved handle or straight with a leather-wrapped handle. He chose the latter and was soon out in the street with his cane nicely wrapped, but it was rather obvious what it was and he was glad he was parked outside. When he got home he put the car in his garage straight away, and entered the house by a side door in the garage. He did not want prying eyes to wonder what he was doing with a cane. He wondered if Karen had been watching.

Karen had not been watching. She was sitting in her bedroom wondering what she had let herself in for. She was now furious with herself for having given in to the impulse to steal the stockings, and went over what had happened subsequently to see if there was any way out. But she could see no alternative to what was in store for her. She ran her hand over her bottom in her tight jeans and wondered if she would be able to stand the pain of the caning. This thought occupied her for the rest of the day, and she gave monosyllabic answers to her mother when she returned from her bridge session and wanted to know how Karen had got on. Karen had told her what she was going to wear for the party, and of course her mother wanted to examine the stockings, noting with approval that they were black and properly fully-fashioned, not with the fake seams that some modern stockings had. Karen for her part would have cheerfully flung them away, seeing the trouble they were causing her. She mooched about for the rest of the day, not able to settle to anything, and had a restless night, thinking all the time of bending over the next day to be caned.

Howard Campbell was also restless, for obviously different reasons. But he decided that some practice with the cane was necessary, so he fixed up a white pillow in a position as near as possible to that to be occupied by Karen’s bottom tomorrow, rubbed some coloured chalk on the cane and started swishing away, seeing where the chalk marks showed up on the pillow. At first he was all over the place, but as he got into the rhythm of it he began to achieve more accuracy, and eventually he put the cane away, promising himself some more practice in the morning. Unlike Karen, he slept like a log.


The next morning Karen was on edge, waiting for her mother to set off to visit her aunt. How awful it would be if the aunt rang up to say she was ill. But no call came and her mother left at around 9.30, making sure that Karen knew about the cold lunch she had prepared for her. Her father had left for work at his normal time of 7.45, so again she was alone, waiting for 2.00. The minutes crawled past, she could hardly eat any lunch and threw most of it away, covering it up with other things so that her mother wouldn’t see it in the bin. She had wondered whether to wear the seamed stockings, thinking that if she could provoke Mr Campbell into having sex with her he might relent about the caning, but thought that it probably wouldn’t work and might make him angry. She wasn’t even sure if he was into stockings, though she understood that most men of his age were. Eventually she settled on a T-shirt and jeans with plain white knickers underneath. At two minutes to two she took a deep breath, left the house, crossed the road to Mr Campbell’s house and rang the bell.

Mr Campbell had been practising his caning all the morning on the pillow, and by lunchtime felt that he could land the cane pretty well anywhere he wanted. It was a pity he wouldn’t be caning her on her bare bottom as he wouldn’t be able to see the reddening of the bottom and the weals coming up. However, he had a middle-aged man’s sense of modesty, and there was always the danger that he might see too much of her naked body. No, knickers on, it had to be.

He now felt ready, and was delighted when the bell rang at precisely 2.00. He opened the door and a pale-faced Karen stood there. He just said: “Come in, Karen,” and then when she was in said: “We’ll go to my office since we won’t be overlooked.”

He led her into a smallish room overlooking the drive at the side of the house. One wall was lined with books, there were two easy chairs and there was a large desk on the wall to the left of the window, with a computer at one end.

Mr Campbell took off his jacket and threw it on to one of the chairs. Karen was interested to see that he was wearing braces. She had always like seeing men in braces, and had even thought of getting some for herself since she had seen an article in one of her magazines saying girls were wearing them as a fashion statement. She certainly wouldn’t need them to keep up her tight jeans. But then…..

She suddenly realised that Mr Campbell was talking. “I want it to be quite clear what is happening,” he said. “Because of your dishonesty in shoplifting yesterday you have agreed to receive nine strokes of the cane on your bottom, covered only with your knickers. In return I will not breathe a word of the shoplifting to anyone, and you will not breathe a word to anyone about the caning. And that includes any best friend you have from whom you have ‘no secrets’. Is that agreed?

There was a silence while Karen thought it over. Would she be able to refrain from telling her best friend Alex? They did indeed have no secrets, but could she rely on her not to tell another friend, and her another, till the whole of the 6th form, and perhaps the whole school, would know, with the details gradually growing in the telling? No, this would have to remain a total secret from the entire world, except of course Mr Campbell. And she didn’t think he would be blabbing it from the rooftops. What he was doing was probably illegal, anyway, though she was a bit hazy here. After all she had suggested the caning and…

She realised that Mr Campbell was waiting. She took a deep breath and uttered the fateful word.

“Yes.” She said.

“Right then,” he said. “I want you to take down your jeans and bend over the desk with your bottom in the air.

She wriggled out of her jeans and lowered them to the floor. Her T-shirt was quite short and didn’t cover much of her bottom. She bent over the desk with her hands clutching the ridge at its rear. She stuck her bottom up as much as she could, and waited.

Howard Campbell had thought Karen seemed a bit distant. Twice she had gone into a sort of reverie and he had wondered if she was going to change her mind. But now here she was, her bottom in the tight white knickers raised invitingly in the air. It was all down to him now. He picked up the cane, gave it a few swishes in the air, lifted it up and brought it down sharply on to Karen’s bottom, right in the middle of her left buttock.

The first stroke took Karen’s breath away. There was this mighty crack and the pain shot through her bottom and right through her entire body. It felt as though her bottom was swelling up. Before she could think anymore the second stroke came down, CRACK! This was on her right buttock and just like the first. She cried out this time, but sensed that it would be sensible to stay bent over the desk. The pain was excruciating and she was so regretting having agreed to the caning. The third stroke came down on her left buttock just above the first, CRACK! This time she shouted out and stood up, ineffectually rubbing her bottom over her knickers.

“Stay down till I’ve finished,” muttered Mr Campbell, “or you’ll get extra strokes.”

The fourth stroke mirrored the second, being on her right buttock, CRACK! She was openly crying with the pain now and yelling after each stroke. The fifth and sixth strokes Mr Campbell placed just below the original pair so that she had six evenly placed red stripes, rapidly welling up into ridges and welts. Now he shifted his stance slightly and brought the cane down across the first two. This time she couldn’t help herself. She yelled out and stood up again, rubbing her bottom. “I can’t take any more,” she said between her sobs.

“Oh yes you will!” He said. “You’ll have an extra one now, and if you don’t take the full number it’ll be back to the supermarket straight away to explain your theft.”

Karen was in despair, but she slowly bent over the desk again. Mr Campbell did the next two strokes in quick succession. Her bottom was now becoming almost numb and though she cried out each time the pain didn’t seem quite as bad. Only one stroke to come. This time he lifted the cane high and fairly smashed it down at an angle across most of the previous strokes.

“That’s all.” He said. “You’ve been very brave.”

Still crying she stood up and quite deliberately lowered her knickers, rubbing away at the bare skin. Campbell could now see the results of his handiwork, six beautifully placed red stripes with another four crossing them at an angle, again all evenly spaced. They were white at the edges, and rapidly beginning to turn into bruises. Still rubbing her bottom she said: “I hope you’re satisfied, you sadist.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say, Karen,” he said, “Considering the favour I’ve done you. But please replace your knickers and jeans and you can go home now. You’ve had your punishment and that is absolutely the end of the matter.”

Karen quietly pulled up her knickers and very gingerly wriggled back into her tight jeans, wincing at the pain this caused. She turned her back on him, walked out of the room and out of the house. Walking was extremely painful but she managed to cross the road and up the path to her house.

Howard Campbell was in seventh heaven He had caned an attractive girl and had done it particularly well – the marks were exactly where he had wanted them to be, and he only wished he had videoed the whole thing. But the memory of it would last a long, long time. He had no fears that Karen would say anything. She might if she saw her parents now, but after a few hours, when the immediate pain of the caning had subsided, she would realise the importance of keeping absolutely quiet.

When Karen entered through her front door she was amazed to see her mother there.

“Surprise, surprise!” Said her mother. “My stupid aunt had forgotten she had a hospital appointment this afternoon so I had an early lunch with her and came home early. But you look awful. Have you just come from that nice Mr Campbell? You look as though you’re in dreadful pain. What on earth has happened?”

Karen burst into tears, collapsed into her mother’s arms and told her everything.

The End