Carissa, would-be shoplifter punished

This was her punishment. She thought she could get away with shoplifting, stuffing items in her jacket and bra and waltzing out the door. Now she stood near the exit, opening that same jacket and flashing her tits to anyone who walked by.

"Can I stop now?" Carissa whined. "This is embarrassing."

"You should've thought of that before you tried to steal from me," the owner said.

The bell dinged. Another customer entered. Spinning toward him, she jutted her chest in the man's face and smiled. "Hi! My name's Carissa, and I'm a thieving piece of shit. I can't be trusted to wear clothes without using them to steal, so I'm not allowed to wear any."

"Uhh, fine. I'm just here to get some Pepto-Bismol," the man answered.

"Great! I shoved some in my pussy once to save myself a Lincoln. It's big and loose, perfect for thick objects. Could probably fit five dicks in there if I tried."

While the customer made a quick beeline for the OTC **** aisle, Carissa licked her fingers and rubbed her nipples stiff. One of the owner's rules for her getting off with a warning - rather than a hole in the head or a call to the cops - was keeping the gals perky and presentable. Along with spouting whatever cleverly degrading comments she could come up with that would make him happy. After a while, she figured out the general theme of what he wanted.

Another 'opportunity' quickly presented itself in the form of a soccer mom ringing up her purchase. Carissa spied the goods, like any other common petty thief.

"Anti-itch cream, huh? I know how that is. My ass was itching real bad earlier, so I stopped stealing for a few secs to rip open a package and rub some on. Didn't really help, but it made shoving booze in there easier."

She wished she was lying about the booze. Her fat cheeks held it in place while the bottle bottom tented the seat of her pants. Three hours in, who knew how much longer to go. Grinning like a maniac til the mom left with a jingle, Carissa sighed, released her jacket and glared at the owner. "How much longer?"

"When I say you're done. I'm not convinced you've learned your lesson yet."

If the owner knew Carissa was the leader of a local girl gang, and most people feared pissing her off, he... probably would've done the same thing. He has his own connections.