Stealing (M/F story)

 Helen glanced down into her wallet again, as she expected some magical elf to have filled it with cash while she wasn't looking. To her complete lack of surprise, it hadn't.

 

She'd turned eighteen a little more than a month ago, and she'd already been out drinking three times – it just tasted different when it was legal. But without money, she wouldn't be drinking much.

 

But a thought entered her head. Paul, her younger brother, had recently gotten a small, after-school job at a shop. The pay could have been better, but it was money. And she knew just where he kept it, too: a small shoe box at the back of his closet. What did a sixteen-year-old need with that money?

 

And as long as she was careful, and only made her move while he was out, there was little or no risk that he'd notice a few ten-pound notes missing from the shoe box. The last thing she wanted was for her parents to find out and ground her!

 

A few hours later, Paul knocked on her door. “I'm off to the store. Do you need anything?”

 

She shrugged. “Can't think of anything,” she told him, trying her best to look calm. She checked that he'd put on his jacket and left the house, before sneaking towards his room. There wasn't really a reason to be so quiet, since their parents were out, but it just felt natural. She found the shoe box, cleverly hidden beneath a blanket. Inside, there was a stack of twenties, some tenners, and some coins. She took a few bills and placed them in her pocket. She still couldn't believe that he preferred his money here, rather than in the bank, but she wasn't complaining. The money in the bank would be a lot harder to steal.

 

“What do you think you are doing?” a cold voice said behind her. She spun around, and stood face to face with her younger brother, looking more angry than she'd ever seen him.

“Paul!” she said, trying her best to look calm. “Weren't you going to the store?”

 

“I forgot my wallet,” he told her. “Care to explain what you were doing with my money?”

 

She tried to think of something to say, any excuse that would make sense to him, but she came up blank. “I'm sorry,” she told him. “I just needed a bit of cash. I was going to pay it back, I promise!”

 

“Then why didn't you ask for a loan?” he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

 

She had no answer for that. “Please don't tell mum,” she pleaded. “I don't want to be grounded!”

 

“I wasn't planning on getting you grounded,” he said in a voice that sent a shiver down her back. He stepped towards her, and she tried to move away, but she soon had her back to the wall. He grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the bed. He sat down, and before she could figure out what was going on, he jerked on her arm and pulled her over his knee.

 

“Hey!” she shouted. “What's going on?”

 

The answer came a split second later, as a loud smack landed on the seat of her jeans, spreading a warm sting through her rear. A second and third smack followed.

 

“Ow! You can't do this!” she yelled.

 

“Do what? Spank you? I beg to differ,” he said, not pausing the movement of his hand for a second. “I find you stealing my hard-earned money, and I'm supposed to get mum to ground you? No, I think I'm going to deal with this myself.”

 

And he unleashed a torrent of spanks on her wriggling bottom, causing her to cry out in pain as the sting spread through her poor posterior.

 

“This isn't working,” he said to himself, and he pushed her to her feet. She sighed, glad that it was over. It had been humiliating and painful, but at least it was short.

 

But to her horror, his hands moved to the front of her jeans, and he started to undo them. “What are you doing!?” she gasped, trying to protect herself, but he slapped her hands way.

 

“Taking your trousers down,” he explained calmly. “I think it'll be more effective.”

 

He pulled her jeans down to her knees, and she once again found herself staring at the carpet, her butt lifted up over his knee. He continued his assault on her bottom. She couldn't believe how much more it stung without her jeans. She kicked her legs in a vain attempt to make the pain go away. She would never have believed that her younger brother was capable of this.

 

“Ow!” She pushed against the bed, trying to get off his lap. “Let me up! You can't do this!” But it was all in vain; he was stronger than her, and with his left hand pushing down at her back, there was precious little she could do.

 

“Oh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Believe me, I can. I can do this, too!” And he grabbed the waistband of her panties, lowering them to her knees. She blushed as she realized that he could see everything, but the fire in her bottom soon distracted her from that thought. She was sobbing loudly as he continued to lift his iron palm, bringing it sharply down on her unprotected rear.

 

Finally, when she was certain that she would never sit again, he stopped the spanking. He helped her to her feet, and grinned as she stomped around and tried to rub the sting out.

 

She winced as she pulled up her panties, then glanced sorrowfully down on the tight jeans still pooled around her ankles. There was no way in the world she was going to attempt to put those on right now. Instead, she took them off, choosing to carry them back to her room, and find a nice, long skirt instead. Something that would be easier on her bruised flesh.

 

“I'm sorry,” she told her brother again.

 

“Just go to your room. If you try this again, it will be much worse,” he told her.

 

She made her way back to her room, and was about to put the jeans in her closet when she discovered something in one of the pockets. She pulled it out to find the wad of money, still tucked away. He'd forgotten to get it back, and it was more than enough for an evening at the pub.

 

With a wince, she rubbed her sore seat. Perhaps she'd give her backside a day or two to heal before trying to sit at a barstool.