Shoplifter (F/f story)

There were many places 15-year-old Chelsea wanted to be on this beautiful, sunny Friday afternoon. The police station, you'll be shocked to find out, was not one of them.

A few of her friends had wanted this new "One Direction" CD that had just come out. Actually, that wasn't entirely true; ALL of her friends had wanted this CD. It was just that some of them had decided they were willing to go through a lot to get it. Including breaking the law.

They'd decided to shoplift it, but they needed a lookout. Which was where Chelsea came in. Which was why, when the nervously giggling schoolgirls were immediately caught, Chelsea was dragged down to the police station with them. The police had promised to phone all the girls' parents, but there was a slight hitch in that plan: Chelsea's parents were on vacation, and not due to return for at least another week.

She was just wondering if she'd be doomed to stay at the station until her parents were back, when she saw that her sister had just stopped by the station. She waved at her sister, but stopped when she saw the glare Beverly threw her. She wondered if she might be better off in jail.

No such luck. The police handed her off to her sister's care, giving her a detailed description of her kid sister's crimes.

The ride home was ominously silent. Beverly was a decade older than her sister, but they'd always been close. It was rare for Beverly to get mad at her younger sister, but when she did, she usually had good reason. And Chelsea had to admit, today was one of those occasions.

As they approached the house, Beverly spoke to her sister for the first time that day. "I want you to go straight to your room and think about what you've done," she said, her voice cold and authoritative. "I'll be up shortly to deal with you."

"Yes, Beverly," Chelsea responded, deciding that this was not the time for backtalk. But she wasn't sure what her sister meant with 'deal with you'. What could she mean?

As she sat on her bed, dreading her sister's arrival, Chelsea thought about those words. Three years ago, when Chelsea was just a child of twelve, she'd shoplifted a few chocolates from a store. Beverly had found out, and to her sister's great surprise, she had taken their mother's old wooden hairbrush and warmed her younger sister's bottom. But that was years ago, for crying out loud. She was a teen now, almost an adult. She couldn't be spanked anymore, could she?

There was a knock on the door, and Beverly entered. Chelsea felt her stomach sink as she spotted the brush in her sister's hand.

"Have you thought about what you did wrong?"

Chelsea nodded, eyes locked to that horrible instrument of pain.

"Stand up," Beverly told her as she sat down on the bed.

"You can't spank me," Chelsea protested. "I'm too old to be spanked!"

"You know, I thought so too," Beverly replied. "But then, I also thought you were too old to shoplift."

Chelsea bit her lip. She considered pressing the point that technically, she hadn't shoplifted, just been a lookout as her friends did, but she had a feeling Beverly wouldn't quite appreciate her logic.

She stood up, then found herself draped over her sister's lap, feeling her shorts and panties being lowered to her knees. Beverly picked up the brush, patting it against her sister's quivering cheeks.

"Time to pay for your crimes."

Chelsea cried out as the hard wood of the brush slapped down on her poor, unprotected backside. It'd been years since she felt the horrible sting of that brush, and she'd forgotten just how painful it really was.

"Are you learning your lesson from this? I don't want to have to repeat this lesson any time soon."

Chelsea did her best to convince her sister that she HAD learned her lesson, that she could stop spanking her right now and that she'd never do it again, but to no avail.

She tried to reach back to protect her well-beaten cheeks, but Beverly just grabbed her arm and pinned it to the small of her back.

Mere minutes later, Chelsea had been reduced to a sobbing, kicking, red-bottomed little girl, and she would have promised anything to make the pain stop. Once Beverly was satisfied that her sister was sincere, she helped her up, sitting her down on her lap while hugging her, letting her cry into her shoulder.

Beverly went downstairs, doing a bit of reading as the sore-bottomed girl upstairs napped, knowing she wouldn't sit comfortably, or sleep on her back, for days.