Caught shoplifting thongs
I was always a petite, "small-boned" boy. My slight, slim build is because I am Amerasian; my mother is Filipina, my father a US serviceman. I always liked to wear my straight, dark hair very long for a boy, way past my shoulders, and I was often mistaken for a girl. I had three older sisters, and because my dad was in the military, he was gone most of the time. When he was around he mostly spent a few hours yelling at me and being a disciplinarian until he got drunk or otherwise distracted, and then ignored me completely. So I just tried to stay out of his way, and basically was raised by my mother and sisters in a very feminine household, and was treated by my older sisters at least, as something like an honorary little sister. In fact, because I was so small most of my clothes were hand-me-downs from my sisters. Truth be told, I preferred girls' clothing to boys'; my sisters' clothes not only fit me better but I also liked the way girls' clothes looked and felt on me; I liked their silky feel, and even before I knew anything about sex, I knew that wearing feminine clothes made me feel sexy.
Also, every chance I got, I also liked to wear my Mom's jewelry and to play with her or my sisters' make up. By high school, I was regularly wearing eye shadow, mascara, and a touch of lipstick. With the help of my sisters I learned all about waxing unwanted body hair and other beauty secrets, like blow-drying my hair Although I wore my sisters blouses and pants, my mother would not let me wear their skirts, heels, and stockings in public. She also caught me wearing my sisters' lingerie when I was in the house, more than once, and she got very angry with me and threatened to tell my father,though I don't think she did. She also would not allow me to wear my sister's underwear.
As I was beginning to be a teenager, I particularly wanted to wear thongs, and I decided to go to a department store, to try to pass as a girl, and to browse in the intimate apparel department. I "borrowed" one of my sister's tight mini skirts and managed a pair of heels. I also borrowed a bra which I stuffed with socks (my sisters did the same thing), and a midriff-baring, tight, knit shirt. I was in seventh heaven with the lingerie, examining the collection of bras, panties, negligees, corsets. But I was only a student and had little money. I still don't know why, but I decided to shoplift the panties instead of paying for them. It was just stupid, and I got caught.
A security guard caught me stuffing a pair of panties into the pocket of my mini skirt. and ushered me to the chief of security's office. I'm sure I looked a mess. My mascara was running down my cheeks, as I whimpered and cried. The chief of store security then came in, got the guard's report about how I was caught. He then dismissed the guard and closed the door. I had not looked up until then to see what the head of security looked like. He was a well-built, 200-pound plus black man, very masculine looking, well over six feet in height. His biceps were muscular and looked thicker than my thighs.
He introduced himself to me as Mr. Johnson. At first I had him fooled and he thought I was a girl. But he demanded to see my ID, and that's when he found out that my ID listed me as male. He said, "Your ID says you are a boy, Lee, not a girl." I sat in his office, crying my eyes out, and confessed that I was a boy.
Then Mr. Johnson told me to stand up and turn around. He reached under my shirt to undo my bra, thinking it clasped in the back. But it was a front-clasping bra, so he ended up feeling from the back straps of the bra, drawing his hands over the cups and as he did so pulled me against his body. He undid the front clasp, pulled it our from under my shirt, and the socks fell out. He stayed behind me and I guess began to frisk me, he ran his hands all over my chest, pinched my nipples, then ran his hands down my firm slim belly and ran his fingers under the waistband of my skirt, feeling that I was wearing a thong and brushed his fingers over the front of the thong to establish for sure that I was, in fact, a boy. I cried even more.
Mr. Johnson told me it was his duty to press charges and call the police, and that I might have to go to jail. I was petrified at the shame of being led out of the mall in handcuffs, and the thought of going to jail terrified me.
He said, "Why are you stealing girls' underwear, Lee?" I confessed that I wanted to wear the thongs myself but that my mother wouldn't let me. He then said he had to check to make sure I wasn't wearing any stolen panties. I unsnapped and unzipped my miniskirt and wiggled out of it, revealing that I was wearing a little black thong that still had the price tag on it. It was clear that I had tried it on in the changing room and tried to hide it by wearing it. "You're wearing stolen property, Lee," he said. I was so upset and anxious with tears streaming down my face.
Then Mr. Johnson told me to walk back and forth in front of his desk wearing the thong. I was still in my high heels and my midriff shirt, but no skirt, just the thong. I'm sure that he could see that my legs were shaved and that my pubic area was waxed. I felt very funny as Mr. Johnson watched me very intently. I felt that my fate, it seemed my life, hung in the balance, in his large, strong hands.
Finally, he patted his knee and told me to come sit on his lap. I was very frightened and stepped tentatively to him. His legs were apart, so I stepped between his legs and rested my little butt on his big right leg. He put a heavy arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to him. As I sat on his lap, Mr. Johnson said he needed to decide what to do with my "case." I begged him not to turn me into the police. I promised I would never shoplift again. I whispered that I would do anything if he wouldn't send me to jail.
Mr. Johnson brushed my hair out of my face and stroked my face, wiping away my tears with his finger. Then his hand that had been on my shoulder moved down to my back, and he brought his hand under my shirt and began stroking my back trying to calm me down. He said, "I think we can come up with an alternative punishment that would not involve the police." He moved his hand from the small of my back I whimpered and cried some more and told him I would accept any punishment. Up until then, Mr. Johnson had been very gentle, but at that point his other hand moved from my face and he brought it under the front of my shirt and he began running his hand over my smooth, hairless chest and he resumed pinching my nipple, more roughly this time so it hurt. As he had one hand stroking my back and one feeling my chest, I squirmed in his lap, and as I squirmed, I began to feel the hardness of his penis pressing against my little buttocks.
Mr. Johnson said, "I think I know why you stole those thong panties, Lee." He was squeezing the chest area around my nipple, sort of making a little breast out of it. His other hand slid down from my shoulder, slid along my side and then began running along the thong along my waist and then down as he felt and squeezed my butt cheek and explored how the thong ran down the crack of my ass. "I think you'd rather be a girl, wouldn't you, Lee?
I couldn't talk, but I nodded my head. His finger was tracing pushing the thong deeper into my ass crack.
"Well, you are prettier than most girls, Lee." He continued to feel me with both of his hands, one under my shirt stroking my chest the other playing with my thong and ass "I've decided on your punishment, young lady."
I began to grasp that last word, but still had no idea where this was leading. "Please, sir, I'll do anything. Don't tell my parents. Please don't call the police."
He took my hand and placed it on the big bulge on his pants. I grasped the hard rod through the cloth. "Unzip it baby," he said. I did what I was told. "Take it out." Mr. Johnson had a penis that looked to me like a big thick black salami. My little hand could hardly grab around the whole thing. He pushed me off his leg and placed me on my knees kneeling between his legs with his massive cock in front of my face.
"My punishment, little Miss Lee, is to fulfill your desire. I am going to make you a girl. Better yet, I'm going to make you my own little bitch."
"Yes sir, I stammered." I didn't hesitate for a moment in submitting completely to Mr. Johnson. He was right. My desire was to be a girl. More than that, my desire now was to be his girl, his sex toy.
"Suck my dick," he commanded. I had to stretch to angle my mouth so it could reach his cock head. My mouth could only take a small fraction of his penis. I swirled my tongue around his cock head and sucked on it as well as I could. But Mr. Johnson was impatient. He started applying pressure to the back of my head. I started to gag and choke, but he penetrated his penis farther into my mouth trying to poke it down my throat as he pressed my head from behind. I really thought he might kill me then and there, I was choking and couldn't breathe. Tears now were running down my face again, but this time it wasn't just fear, but pain, panic. I was trying to gasp for air, but his penis was blocking everything. I gagged and sort of threw up, but Mr. Johnson still didn't let up as he raped my mouth.
Just when I thought I had breathed my last, he pulled his cock out, picked me up by the scruff of my neck and slammed me face down over the front of his desk, so I was bent over with my little ass up in the air. He pushed apart my legs, pulled down the thong, and crushed his big meaty cock into my ass crack. Mr. Johnson held my shoulders firmly in his hands and pressed me down on the desk. He rubbed his big salami cock up and down my ass crack and I rocked my ass into a rhythm to match his thrusts. Just as I was really enjoying the sensation of his hard cock fitting so well in my crack, he started trying to push the head of his cock into my tight little asshole. But I was so tensed up and he was so large, it just wouldn't go. He pushed and pushed but it was like pushing into a brick wall. I was whimpering and crying, and he was either gripping my shoulders hard or slapping my bottom. I was terrified at the thought of that big, thick cock actually penetrating my ass because I thought he would just rip me apart and I would die on the spot.
Lucky for me, he gave up on penetrating my ass. He got a hold of my hair, pulled it into a pony tail and dragged me from his desk. Now standing, he forced me to kneel in front of him. "Take it, bitch. Suck it good." He jammed his cock in my mouth again, controlling my head in his hands and using me like a sex doll, as he thrust his cock into my mouth and shoved it down my throat. This time I did a better job of not gagging as much and not throwing up and was able to breathe a bit through my nose. Even so, I really was pretty much a rag doll at this point, and I did my best not to tense up but to let him fuck my mouth. I even held his ass in my hands and squeezed his ass cheeks in time to his thrusts into my mouth. Finally, Mr. Johnson reached his orgasm. It felt as though my mouth was completely filled by his cum. I had never had produced anything remotely like that amount of sperm in one ejaculation. As I tried to swallow and catch my breath at the same time, much of the sperm ran down my chin.
"Put your skirt back on, Lee, and clean yourself up," Mr. Johnson said. I started to put on the skirt when Mr. Johnson picked up one of the pairs of stolen panties from his desk. "Come put this on, Lee." I slipped on the thong. He nodded his head in approval and I gave a little twirl so he could see how it fit me front and back. "My present to you." He reached into his pocket and counted out cash for the stolen panties. "I will escort you to the cash register and you will pay for these." He then pulled out a one hundred dollar bill. I had never seen a real one before. It was a huge amount of money for me. "And here is money to fix yourself up and to buy some sexy things to wear for me the next time when you will be coming to my place and we will be able to get more comfortable."
"Yes sir," I said as I now smiled for the first time, anticipating good times ahead with Mr. Johnson.