The Burglary: Officer Sundt and Shoplifter

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NOTE: Officer Gina Sundt is the main protagonist in my very first story, The Burglary, even though I never actually identify her. This story is not a sequel, but one of a series of semi-independent stories I hope to complete about her sexual adventures. As you can probably tell, I have a thing for women in uniform.


I had about 90 minutes left on my shift when I got the call that a shoplifter had been caught at a boutique in a nearby shopping center. Some place called Aline’s, not that that meant anything to me, as I’d never been called there before. So I radioed in that I was on my way and five minutes later, pulled into a parking lot populated by a smattering of Beamers, Audis, and Range Rovers.

The place was at the far end of the center, and driving up to it, you couldn’t really tell what kind of establishment it was. There weren’t any window displays, just dark crimson curtains hung across the plate-glass windows in the front. The only signage was its name, stenciled in ornate letters across a frosted glass window set in a heavy wooden door. That’s it. No information on days or hours of operation, nothing about what credit cards were accepted, no signs warning loiters or solicitors away. Given its appearance, I expected the interior to be somewhat dark and gloomy. So I was surprised when I pulled open the door and found it was well lit by skylights and subtle track lighting. The crimson curtains were backed by an egg-shell white fabric and the place had a warm, airy feel to it.

I was equally surprised by the merchandise. I hadn’t known what to expect, and I guess given the name, the racks filled with what looked like very high-end lingerie should not have surprised me that much. It was an exotic sounding feminine name, after all. But some of this stuff looked incredibly risqué; sheer blouses, lace bodysuits, and leather corsets all shared rack space and there were shelves and bins filled with racy panties and stockings of all colors and styles. I liked the stuff, don’t get me wrong, but this was Briartown, a wealthy, exclusive neighborhood that tended to be older and very conservative. I just didn’t see this place surviving in such a location.

“Good afternoon, officer. Doing a little shopping on your lunch break?”

The question came from a very attractive young woman who seemed to have materialized out of nowhere, which is frankly a little embarrassing, given that I’m supposed to be an ever-alert officer of the law. She was tall, with long straight black hair falling down her back and was wearing a sleeveless red dress cinched by a black belt. The dress that hung to just above her knees and her legs were clad in black patterned stockings and black calf-high boots. Her large, brown eyes looked eagerly at me, although why she thought a lowly cop would be able to provide much in the way of a commission was beyond me. Still, she was very attractive, about six inches shorter than me with well-defined arms, something I admire in women. And she had a really nice pair of breasts that the dress’ low cut showed off to very nice effect, which is something else I admire in women. My own tits are always hidden behind body armor, which shows exactly nothing off to nice effect, but it can stop a bullet, so there’s that.

“Actually, I’m here about the shoplifter,” I said in a somewhat confused tone, thinking she should have been able to figure that out.

Her brow furrowed and she looked even more puzzled than me, but then another woman called out from the rear of the store, “It’s okay, Darcy. I’ll handle this.”

She was a tall, willowy blonde with long, golden hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She wore a white, long-sleeve blouse of a gauzy material untucked over black yoga pants, little makeup or jewelry other than a gold ring around one thumb and a braided gold chain around her wrist. The material of her blouse meant that I had a pretty good view of the lacy white bra she wore beneath it and her breasts, while smaller than Darcy’s, seemed firm and shapely to me. But her most arresting feature was her large, saucer-like blue eyes, not quite large enough to be considered freakish or unpleasant, but prominent enough that they clearly held one’s gaze. Perhaps hypnotic would be a good word for them; they certainly held my attention as she slowly but purposefully strode across the room to me.

“Good afternoon, officer,” she said, extending a pale, delicate hand with long, thin fingers. “I’m Aline, the owner of this establishment.”

“Officer Gina Sundt,” I said, surprised by her remarkably strong grip. “What seems to be the problem?”

“I’m afraid that a young woman who came in a few minutes ago attempted to take the, how do they phrase it, five fingered discount. She hid several pairs of panties in her purse while she thought I wasn’t looking. Darcy was in the back at the time.”

Aline had just the slightest French accent, and her voice was lower and deeper than you would ever expect from such a tall, thin woman. I found it van escort very erotic.

“Where is this person now?” I asked in my most formal, professional voice.

“She’s sitting in my office. She’s been very cooperative, didn’t try to run or be violent in any way. She’s a regular customer, comes in with her mother usually. Still, I can’t let this kind of thing go,” she said, turning and leading me to the back of the store. I had not initially noticed that the place was divided up into two show rooms, as it were. The one in the back, accessed through an archway, was a smaller area that featured ultra-sexy costumes as well as glass cabinets and shelves containing various types of sex toys, all of them looking very expensive. These were not the cheap silicon or plastic types found in sleazier stores – and yes, I’ve got a few – but rather high-end items that looked more like works of art than sex aides. They came in a variety of shapes, sizes and colors, primarily silver, black or blood-red. There were, besides a diversity of dildos and vibrators, anal plugs, nipple clamps, ben-wa balls, leather riding crops, handcuffs, paddles, floggers, spreader bars and every other kind of sexual accoutrement one can imagine.

“Do you like our selection?” Aline asked me, obviously noting my interest in her stock.

“Honestly, yes,” I replied. “Some of these look very interesting and a lot of fun.”

I’ve never been one to be ashamed of my love of sex and besides, I was feeling a little flirty. It had been more than a week since I’d been laid, and even longer since I’d been with a woman. Frankly, I missed that feminine touch and Aline was a beautiful woman who exuded a very seductive aura.

“Do you have a lot of experience with these sorts of things?” she inquired, then stopped sort and turned to me, her face red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, that was an incredibly personal question and very inappropriate. Please accept my apology.”

I smiled at her, finding her discomfort somewhat cute. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind telling you. I’ve got a couple of items at home, but not of this quality. Some of the others, I’ve played with from time to time, and usually enjoyed the experience, but I’m not a regular user.”

Aline gave me a friendly, maybe even a little flirtatious look. “I tell you what, if you see something you really would want to try, just ask. I’d be happy to hook you up at a very good discount.”

“Thanks. I may take you up on that. But I think we better talk to this shoplifter of yours.”

“Of course,” she said and led me through to a short hallway. Halfway along it there were two doors, one on each side. She opened the one on the left and we entered a roomy, tastefully decorated office. There was a large, mahogany desk with what looked like a very comfortable office chair, a couple of filing cabinets, some bookcases, two armchairs and, against the far wall, a wide leather couch.

Seated on the couch was Michelle Greene. I knew the little bitch instantly. She was a spoiled rotten little troublemaker whom I’d pulled over on several occasions. Every time, it was the same routine; a bitchy attitude, threatening to have my badge, didn’t I know who her father was, yada yada yada. When that didn’t work, she’d offer a couple of hundred bucks. Normally, I don’t mind collecting an informal fee and letting the driver go, but I wrote her up every chance I got. Not that it ever mattered; the tickets were always dismissed with no explanation.

A couple of months ago, her high school graduation party got so out of hand that a dozen squad cars and the police helicopter were dispatched. Her daddy had hired some well-known hip-hop group and when word got around, a bunch of kids from the south side – the kind whose parents might work in Briartown, but would never be allowed to live there – showed up and pretty soon snotty rich kids and angry poor kids were duking it out. It was a shitty night, and what I recall most clearly was Michelle standing on a balcony, swigging champagne from a bottle and encouraging her male admirers to kick some ass.

Frankly, I hated the little shit even though I thought she was hot as hell. She had long, curly brown hair with blonde highlights, green eyes, plump lips and the muscular body of a three-year varsity cheerleader. Her breasts were large and firm, which I knew because she was usually dressed like a stripper about to go on stage. Still, she was a complete bitch.

“Hello, Ms. Greene. I see we’ve gone from speeding to shoplifting,” I said in a snarkier tone than the department usually likes us to use. She looked up from the magazine she was examining, gave me a dismissive glance, and then went back to her reading.

“Whatever,” she hissed. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we. I guess I need to call my attorney.”

I looked at Aline and motioned her out to the hall.

“Look,” I said, “I’m more than happy to take her in, but you have to know, nothing is going to happen to her. Her daddy will see yalova escort to that.”

“Oh, I know. I see you are just as familiar with her as I am. She and her mother – well, actually, I think it’s her stepmother, she only looks to be in her mid-30s – are usually rude and demanding, but willing to pay. I guess since she was here alone today, she decided to take her insolence up a notch.”

She tilted her head and gave me an appraising look, as if she was judging carefully what she should say next. Then she reached out her hand and laid it gently on my bare wrist.

“Of course, there are other ways of punishing people,” she said, looking me in the eyes. “I’m a pretty good judge of character, and in my opinion, that girl not only needs discipline, but is actually craving it. How about we give it to her?

I narrowed my eyes and stared into her face. I had a pretty good idea of what she might be thinking, but I wasn’t sure if it worth the risk. If she was wrong about little Michelle Greene, then she’d be looking at major litigation and my career would be over. Still, it would be nice to finally put that spoiled snot in her place and given the nature of her business, my guess was that Aline was very good at reading people who might be in to this sort of thing. She must have seen something in the girl’s behavior or attitude that escaped me. I doubted she would have broached the subject if she weren’t fairly confident her plan would be successful.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked.

“Follow me,” she said, opening the second door and heading down a flight of carpeted stairs. They ended in a small room that was featureless except for two doors on adjacent walls.

“That’s just a storeroom,” Aline said, jerking her thumb to the door on our left. “This, on the other hand, is where I believe little Miss Prissy can be taught proper manners.

The door she pushed open was a heavy steel job that swung soundlessly in; as it did, several discretely placed lights came on automatically. I paused for just a second to take in what I was seeing. A deep, dark red carpet lay between walls that alternated between mahogany panels and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. The space was surprising large, perhaps even extending under one or more adjacent businesses. But it was the décor of the room that grabbed one’s attention. Because I had seen a few BDSM films, and been in a few clubs in my time – did I mention my love of sex? – I recognized most of the items. There was a Saint Andrews Cross with leather straps against one wall, a couple of adjustable leather-covered sawhorses, a spanking table, a movable swing stand, and two cylindrical-shaped cages. There were chains, ropes and silk ties hanging from the walls and ceiling and on the far end, a modernistic looking, king-sized four poster bed with a black metal frame.

There was a massive flat-screen television mounted on one wall and facing it was what appeared to be a hybrid of a recliner and a gynecological exam table. There were straps on both the arm’s chairs and on the stirrups that took the place of the foot rest found on your run-of-the-mill recliner, as well as a couple of more that appeared to go around a person’s torso. I guessed, correctly as it turned out, that this was used to restrain someone while they were made to watch porn videos, presumably to help get them really revved up.

“Holy shit,” I said, looking around admiring the setup. “This is very impressive. Is it for personal use only, or do you sell some of this stuff?”

“Oh no, it’s not for sale. But it’s not for personal use, either, or at least not exclusively. I host very select client gatherings here. You’d be surprised how many middle-aged couples would like to experiment with this kind of thing. Some of our community’s most respected leaders have spent time in this room, but I won’t name names, of course. I give them a safe place to play, and sell them some of the items that I demonstrate down here.”

“The floggers, paddles, and such?” I guessed.

“Exactly,” she said smiling at me. “I have to be careful to only invite those individuals who would welcome such an experience, of course, so I have become very good at reading people. And my reading of our little friend upstairs is that this is exactly what she not only needs, but very much desires. She’s never had discipline in her life, and she wants it. She wants to be punished. It’s why she tried to steal from me. She knew I would catch her, she did it right in front of me.”

I nodded thoughtfully, looking around at the room and envisioning all the fun we could have with Michelle down here. And I saw Aline’s point. I’d run into more than a few people who wanted to be caught and punished, sometimes out of guilt, but other times just out of a need to be punished.

“You’re probably right. So what’s the plan?”

She gave me an appreciative look and told me what she had in mind. I told her it sounded like an excellent idea, and we went back upstairs to her office.

“On yozgat escort your feet,” I barked at Michelle as we entered the office.

“Fuck you,” she replied in a flat, languid voice, not even bothering to look up. Funny, though, how she hadn’t left when she had the chance. She knew her daddy would be able to get her out of anything. He owned half the real estate in this city. I took her lack of resistance as a sign that Aline was right.

I crossed the room and grabbed her, yanking her to her feet, then spun her around and slapped a pair of handcuffs on her. She gasped and tried to kick me but I just pulled her toward the door across the hall and down the stairs, Aline following behind.

“What the fuck is going on,” she yelled as we descended the stairs. “I’ll fucking have your badge and sue the both of you.”

When we got to the bottom, I held her out and Aline stepped up and slapped her hard across the face.

“You will do no such thing. You will shut up and take the punishment that’s coming to you.”

The kid just stared at her, one side of her face a deep red. She had begun to cry and was breathing hard, but stopped all resistance and walked meekly through the door into Aline’ play room. When we entered, she stopped short. Her eyes grew wide and she gave me a look of fear and disbelief.

“You asked for this,” I told her calmly. “You’re going to learn how to behave, starting today, whether you like it or not.”

Aline closed and locked the door behind us. Then, as I held the little bitch still, Aline stripped her, pulling off her high heels, panties and skirt, and then using scissors to cut away her blouse and bra. I thought that would set her off again, but she meekly took it, and I realized that Aline was right about her. Deep down, she wanted this.

I marched her over to the half-recliner, removed the cuffs, and pushed her down. Aline and I secured the arm and leg restraints and then stepped back to admire our handiwork. The seat had been pushed back into a reclined position and the girl’s legs were spread wide in the stirrups. Her arms were secured to the padded armchairs and she just looked up at us in confusion, her gaze traveling from one to the other and then back again.

The thing I noticed was her breasts. Not just that they looked tasty as hell and were begging to be fondled, but that they were tipped by two very erect little nipples. And she couldn’t blame the temperature because it was nice and toasty down here, I guess because most of the people who visit aren’t going to be wearing much in the way of clothing.

Aline nodded in approval and then stepped over to a small cabinet along the wall. From a drawer, she extracted a thick black vibrator and turned it on, its dull buzzing reminding me of a fly trapped between a window and curtain.

“This should do, I think” she said with an evil smile, then walked over to Michelle.

Michelle’s attitude seemed to have changed as she now just watched Aline through narrowed eyes, a slight smirk on her face. “Just what the fuck do you think this is going to accomplish? You going to fuck me into submission?”

“Something like that,” the tall blonde coolly replied, standing between the girl’s legs and looking down at her. “I wonder, Gina, do you think we’ll need lube for this?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“True,” Aline replied, then shoved her index and middle fingers into Michelle’s bare pussy. It was so wet that a thin line of juice actually ran down the girl’s perineum and Aline’ fingers made a loud squishy sound as she worked them around. Michelle ground her pelvis, trying to get the fingers even deeper and moaned softly. When she pulled them out, they were coated in glistening pussy juice.

I reached out and grabbed Aline’ wrist, pulling her hand to my face. I slowly licked up one finger, and then sucked it into my mouth, savoring the sensation of Michelle’s pussy and Aline’s flesh. She gave me a warm, appreciative look.

“Yum,” I said. “I always figured she’d have a tasty cunt.”

Aline stared down directly into Michelle’s eyes, which were now wide with shock, and licked the other finger clean. “Yes, very nice. Perhaps if you’re cooperative, little girl, I’ll decide to sample directly from the source.”

“Yes please,” Michelle gasped, the need obvious in her voice.

“But for now, we need to finish getting you all prepped,” Aline said, then with one swift move pushed the still buzzing vibrator all the way up into the teenager’s wet pussy. Michelle squealed with delight and I have to admit to feeling a little pang of jealousy. It looked like a very nice vibrator.

“Now, just one more thing to do, then Officer Sundt and I will be going upstairs to discuss your future,” Aline said. She then picked up the television remote and turned it on. The screen showed a menu of video titles and Aline began scrolling through them, clearly looking for a particular selection.

“Ah, here we go. This will do nicely,” she said, then highlighted a compilation video titled Bondage Bitches, Teenage Sluts. “Now Michelle, I want you to watch this movie very carefully. I think you’ll find a lot of clues in it about the proper way a young woman such as yourself should treat her betters.”

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