It was Friday night and there was a long line at the liquor store. He was thinking how glad he was that his old lady was out of town visiting her mother. He’d had a shit week and he was looking forward to imminently getting fucked up and perusing his favorite Teen Girl Porn websites.

“Thirty-seven, ninety eight” said the tall blond working the cash register.

Dean reached for his cash. When he opened his wallet, a stupid expression came over his face. He pulled out a twenty and thought maybe the other one was stuck behind it. Then he looked all around him on the floor thinking maybe he had dropped a twenty. He could feel a flush of heat flare up his neck and face.

“Sir?” she asked.

“I guess I don’t have enough. I thought I had more. I don’t know what...”

The more that dribbled out of his mouth, the stupider he sounded. What the fuck? Did he spend it? He couldn’t remember.

“I’ll have to put the whiskey back and just get the case, I guess,” he finally said.

She looked disinterestedly at him for a moment, working on a wad of gum.

“Can I get a manager to register four?” she called out. He heard an exasperated sigh behind him and the line got longer.

He was frantically going through his week in his mind. Nothing was coming to him.

A pudgy, baldy, beard-o manager fuck came over and whispered with the cashier.

Dean piped up, “On second thought, I’ll take the pint. No beer.”

The pretty blond took his money. He shoved the change in his pocket, grabbed the bottle and quickly left as he heard the cashier ask if he wanted his receipt.

He got in his van and slammed the door. He was positive he had forty bucks. He’d had it all week. He hadn’t spent any of it. Had he? No, there was nothing.

Then it dawned on him. It must have been Mandy. Sure as fuck. That little bitch stole twenty dollars out of his wallet.

Mandy was in her room sitting in front of her mirror. She had make-up strewn all across her vanity and clothes all over the floor. She leaned in close to examine the eyeliner she applied around her hazel eyes in a thick, smudgy, black line. She smoothed her hands over her newly dyed, jet-black hair, flicked her fingers through her bangs and decided on red lips. She stood up and stepped back to get the full effect of her appearance.

She wore a blue and white striped crop top with capped sleeves that sat off her shoulders and little white jean shorts. She slipped on her favorite white booty sandals and buckled the straps. She turned around and looked back at herself over her shoulder and was surprised at how sexy she looked. Her mom never gave her too much shit about anything but, she thought that now, even mom might throw a sideways glance at her in this outfit. But, shit, she was eighteen. Even though she still lived at home, technically she could do whatever the hell she wanted.

Mostly, people from work were going to be at the party and they were used to seeing her in that lame uniform. They were going to drop dead when they saw her like this! A little thrill of excitement bubbled up inside her and she couldn’t stop a smile from popping out.

She looked a lot like her mother did when she was younger. She had the same heart shaped face and cute lips. She had a curvy little shape, but she was tiny. Five feet and tipping the scale at 105, even her mother was never as tiny as she was. Mom had always called her a little doll. Mandy used to wish that she had big boobs like her best friend, Lisa. But now she was okay with her body. Besides, she had a great little butt and she knew it. And these shorts were just short enough, that if she bent over at all, the swell of her cheeks was accentuated. She leaned over to test how far she could go before she was too exposed.

This is a very daring outfit, she thought. Which is why she wanted to hurry up and get out before Dean got home. He was always doing something on the inappropriate side. Just the other day, Dean came out of the bathroom, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel. Mandy came up the stairs and stopped short when she saw him. She noticed his muscular arms and the black ink tattoo on his chest. Water was dripping down his neck and tanned upper body. She couldn’t help thinking, ‘He’s naked under there.’ Then he smirked and gave his arm a little flex for her. She quickly went into her room and shut the door. She could handle all of his glances and admittedly even toyed with him a little. But she didn’t want him thinking that she dressed up like this just for him. It was better to leave before he got home and avoid that whole situation.

Then she heard his van pull up.

Shit!

She peeked out the curtain. Damn it!

She decided to hang out in her room until he disappeared into her mom’s room and then sneak down the stairs and quietly slip out the front door.

He pulled up to the house and saw that Mandy’s light was on upstairs.

He turned off the engine and the lights and gulped down another swig of whiskey. Mandy’s mother Terry was an attractive woman, for sure, but she was 10 years older than he was. They had met at a country bar, he went home with her, and she was hot to trot over him ever since. Eventually, he needed a place to stay and announced that he was moving in. The only problem was that Terry had packed on a good 25 pounds in the last year. He still boned her a few times a week, but where was it going to end? She also had an eighteen year old daughter who was a mouthy little tease. Dean wasn’t wild about having to deal with some other dude’s offspring. She was cute and sexy as hell in a way that only a self absorbed, smart assed, teen could be. But, she was in need of a major attitude adjustment. She was constantly dismissing him, ridiculing him; trying to piss him off. Like this morning:

He was in the kitchen standing at the toaster with his coffee and a cigarette, waiting for the toast to pop up. Mandy came padding her ass past him in those god damned slippers she never lifts up high enough. She’s got on some kind of tight boy boxers and a big baggy white T-shirt. She’s at the kitchen table in front of him, bent over on her elbows, talking on her phone about getting an apartment with her friend. Her top is flopped open though and he can see her pink, little tits as plain as day. He just stands there kind of transfixed by it with his cigarette hanging out of his mouth. His prick starts perking up for the second time that morning. Fuck, he just rubbed one out in the shower but, POP, the toast popped up and she turned her face up towards him. He didn’t notice. He was too busy thinking about making those little tits shake and jiggle. What if he just turned her around and ... he looked up and caught her staring at him with her big eyes all smeared with makeup from the night before. She ended her call and stood there looking at him. Then she rolled her eyes, slowly stood up, adjusted her shirt up a bit and shuffled past him to go to her room. He grabbed her arm roughly and held it tight.

“Don’t you fucking roll your eyes at me.”

“Fine! Sorry!” she snapped back a little too sarcastically.

He pushed her a little when he let go of her arm, but kept her eyes locked.

Sitting in the driveway, he looked up and saw her peek out of her window.

That’s right, little tease. I’m home.

Mandy heard the door shut. Did he slam it? She heard him throw his keys down and then climb up the stairs. She waited for her mom’s bedroom door to shut when suddenly he banged on her door.

“Mandy!”

She jumped. He immediately turned the knob and tried opening the door. She instinctively responded by pushing the door closed. He leaned into the door and it came crashing open. She stepped back.

“What the hell, Dean?”

“What the hell, Mandy?”

He stepped into her room.

He stood there looking at her and cracked a smile.

“What in the holy hell are you wearing?”

She instantly regretted her wardrobe decision and a sting of humiliation stabbed at her.

“I’m going to a party. What do you want?”

“Dressed like that? You look like a whore. Jesus Christ, Mandy. Have some decency.”

Who the fuck are you to talk about decency, she thought, but said nothing.

“I gotta go. I’m late.”

She grabbed her purse and tried to push past him, but he held up his arm against the door jamb.

“Hold on there, Missy. I need to talk to you.”

She looked up at him with a pouty face and held his stare.

“Have a seat,” he snapped back, spitting out the ‘t.’ He gestured to her unmade bed. She pursed her lips at him.

“Go on.”

She turned and sat on the edge of her bed. She saw a pair of underwear, crotch side up and discreetly shoved them under the sheet.

“Don’t worry, I already know you’re a slob,” he said and he tucked his bottle of whiskey under his arm and took out a cigarette and a lighter.

“Don’t smoke in here,” she snapped.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” he snapped back. He took a long drag on his cigarette.

“Guess where I was just now.”

“At the bar?” she said judgmentally.

“Close. At the liquor store. To get beer and whiskey. But look. All I got was the whiskey.”

She could see that half of it was already gone.

“Why is that, you think?” he asked. He twisted off the cap and took another gulp and gave an over exaggerated grimace and a loud, “Ah!”

She was feeling uneasy. She had seen him get mean on occasion with her mom and then there was this morning in the kitchen. But, she had this under control. She smiled and pretended to be amused by him. She let out a big sigh and shook her head dramatically.

“You got me, Dean. Why did you only get whiskey?” He took another drag and then pointed at her with his cigarette with a half cocked smile on his face as he exhaled.

“Because a thieving, little, whore stole twenty dollars out of my wallet.”

Fuck. Her stomach did a flip flop and her pretty red mouth hung open for a moment. Her heart was suddenly racing more than it should have been. He walked over to her bed and crouched down in front of her.

“Did you?”

“Did I what?” was all she could come up with. She kept her eyes glued to the floor.

“Look at me. LOOK AT ME,” he demanded. She cast her eyes up to meet his. He got his face right in hers and caressed her arm with the hand holding the cigarette.

“I’m going to ask you this one more time. It’s a simple yes or no. Did you steal twenty dollars out of my wallet?” She couldn’t think. Suddenly, he grabbed her shoulders and squeezed them up together. She squeaked in surprise.

“Don’t FUCKING lie to me!”

“Yes!” she blurted. He let her go.

“Yeah, you’d better be scared.” he said menacingly. Her mouth went dry.

“When?”

“This morning, while you were in the shower. I’m really sorry. I didn’t ... I just needed it because ... I...”

“Because why?”

“I just...” Her mouth was open but no words came out.

“I’ll tell you what you JUST did. You just bought yourself a ticket out of that little party.”

“Jesus, Dean! I can give it back!”

“Not the point. Better get to calling that Lisa chick or whoever she is. Tell her you stole money from me and you’re in a shit ton of trouble.” She peered at him with an incredulous stare.

“Think I’m playing? Get your phone.”

She looked down at the floor, trying to buy time until her brain could think of a way out of this. Nothing.

“DO IT!.” he commanded. She’s seen him pissed before, but never like this.

Her hands were shaky as she fumbled through her purse for her phone. She pressed the number and waited for it to ring.

“Hi Lisa, I can’t come over. I know, it’s just ... I’m sorry, but...”

“That’s good enough,” he interrupted. He took the phone, ended the call and threw it to the side. She gasped and looked at him with disbelief. He squinted at her, daring her to protest. She didn’t look away.

“We’ve got ourselves a little problem, Mandy.”

“Dean! It’s not like I...”

“Shut up! Move!” He pointed down the stairs. “Go sit on the couch.”

She walked past him and half way expected him to shove her or something. He stayed right behind her. She shuffled down the stairs, steadying herself with both hands on the railing and sat on the edge of the couch cushion. All she could do was look at her hands balled up in a fist in her lap. Her mind was reeling. She didn’t feel so much in control anymore. He walked past her, closed the curtains, crushed out his cigarette and locked the front door. He walked over and stood in front of her. He held up his wallet.

“Does this belong to you?” He clipped her under the chin with it, forcing her to tilt her face up to him. “I need an answer.”

He started to lightly tap the wallet in a circle on her face as he spoke, making her flinch with each tap.

“Does - this - belong - to you!?”

“No” she whispered and swallowed hard.

He smoothed his hand over the top of her head and then suddenly grabbed a handful of hair. He shocked her with a slap across the face with the wallet. She instinctively brought her hands up to protect her face.

“THEN DON”T YOU FUCKING TOUCH IT!!” He let go of her hair with a little push and tucked the wallet into his back pocket.

“Please, Dean! Jesus, I just want to go to my room!” she said, holding back tears.

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to tell me why you stole from me.”

She tried desperately to somehow diffuse the situation. Being cute and flirty had always been her go to tactic.

“C’mon, Dean. Just calm down. I can give it back. Geez,” she said, doing her best to look put out. She let out a little scoff and a half smile.

“Are you fucking LAUGHING!?” He grabbed a fistful of hair again and pulled her to her feet.

Her hands flew up to his and yelled, “Ow! You’re hurting me!” He stepped in closer, bent his face to hers and gave her head a little shake.

“Feel like laughing some more?”

“NO!” She couldn’t stop the tears.

“I didn’t think so,” he growled. He held her for another long second and then released her. She wiped her eyes and tried to get a grip on the situation. This is crazy. He is crazy. She made a futile wish that her mother would come home early.

He leered at her.

“Don’t you look cute,” he noticed. He stepped around behind her and ran his finger down her bare arm, giving her goosebumps.

“Ain’t you smooth.”

“Dean, can’t I go back to my room?” she pleaded.

“You know you’re always prancing around here with your ass hanging out.” He let the back of his hand fall and brush across her butt. She tried not to move. He slid around to face her and pulled the elastic of her crop top. He peeked under her top and let the elastic snap back.

“Or your tits.”

Now she was really scared. No one was on their way over. She couldn’t call anyone. She could smell alcohol, cigarettes, and anger on his breath.

He pointed a finger up in her face. “You do that shit on purpose,” he accused.

Her heart dropped down and a little spasm of fear spread between her legs. He squinted and lowered his voice.

“Take my fucking money?” He started to undo the buckle of his belt.

“Please, Dean. Please.”

He watched her while he took off his belt. He folded the thick black strip of leather in half and snapped it loudly. She jumped when it popped. He reached behind her and pulled the thick cushion off the couch and dropped it on the floor in front of her. He snapped the belt in her face again.

“Kneel down!”

She dropped to her knees and he pushed her over the cushion.

“Put your arms up.” She whimpered and slowly put her arms up.

Her leg muscles contracted, bracing for a hit. He brought the belt down hard and it smacked her squarely on the ass. The sting shocked her and she let out a painful yelp when the leather bit into her flesh.

“Fuck! I’m sorry!”

“Too late.” He hit her again. WHACK

“Ow! Dean! That really fucking hurts! You gotta stop! I’m fucking serious!”

“Shut up!”

Another SMACK and she lets out a shriek into the cushions, tears of pain soaking into the cloth. He crouched down on the side of the cushions and started rubbing her ass through her tight white shorts. She heard the buckle of the belt jingle as he tossed it aside.

“Sh, don’t you make any fucking noise. Or I’ll make that seem like a Christmas morning. You get me?” She got him.

He knelt over her on one knee, reached in his jeans and adjusted himself. He pulled her shorts way up so her little round ass was really exposed. He hooked his hand under the back of her shorts and yanked her hips up. He lightly smacked her ass with his free hand and watched her ass jiggle and felt his dick twinge. He hit her again, a little harder this time.

He stood up and straddled his legs on either side of her. She didn’t dare move. He reached down underneath her and unbuttoned her shorts and yanked them to her thighs. He let out an audible grunt when he saw her red, satin panties.

He returned to kneeling beside her and slowly tugged up on her underwear and watched it disappear into the crack of her ass. He greedily grabbed at the little plumpness that was emphasized between her legs, like a silky, little pin cushion.

“You’re a little cunt for taking my money.”

And then he unleashed his righteous anger as he delivered his punishment.

He spanked her hard and shouted with every word.

“Little fucking - bitch! Your - fucking - mom never taught you how to - respect - nothing! Don’t - you - ever - steal - from me - again.” She squealed in pain as his rough hand lit up her ass.

“Understand me?”

“Yes! I understand! I’m sorry Dean. I’m so sorry! Just let me go up to my room, now!”

“Shut up, don’t move,” he said quietly.

She could hear him breathing hard and fumbling with his zipper and then unbelievably, taking off his pants and shirt. He threw his clothes against the wall. Suddenly he was on her. She felt his hard dick pushing against her ass. Oh shit. She was in trouble now.

“Oh, you’re ass is all red.” He leaned over her and put his face next to hers and whispered, “That makes me want to fuck you.”

She was breathing heavily and felt his warm dick rubbing all over her butt cheeks. Her ass was on fire with bright red pulsing hand prints. He stroked her hair.

“You got your ass whipped, didn’t you?”

He was on his knees behind her. He grabbed her hips and lifted her up. He made her pull her knees under her so she was kneeling over the cushions.