Bikini Party

(****, M/fx8, Intense, nc caning)

Father canes girls having a secret party. (Approximately 504 words. Originally published 2010-01.)

"What the hell!"

The man's fury was not quelled by the high-pitched squeals of alarm from the girls. One girl in particular looked terrified. A slender dark-haired beauty of sixteen, she stood frozen on the diving board.

"Rebecca Ann Davis!" Mr. Davis roared. "Get your ass over here, NOW!"

The trembling girl scrambled frantically to her father, wringing her hands and babbling for mercy. "Daddy, please don't shout so, the neighbors--"

"I don't give a damn about the neighbors, girl. I want to know what is going on. Now!"

"It's just a little party..."

"A party I specifically forbade you to have!"

Becky couldn't argue with that, so she just blushed furiously and tried unsuccessfully to melt into the ground.

"And WHAT are you WEARING? Or should I say, NOT wearing?" Mr. Davis glared at the assemblage of teenage girls who were all wearing skimpy bikinis and exposing daring amounts of youthful flesh.

"Just bikinis, father."

"Bikinis! At your age? Outrageous! Oh, your bottoms will pay dearly."

"Daddy, no!"

"Fetch me the cane, girl. At once!"

"Not here, not in front--"

"NOW!" roared the man and the girl was gone like a shot, the tiny triangle of yellow material that hugged her rear dancing as she ran. She was back in seconds, her face crimson with shame, the vile rod gripped in one hand.

The caning was quick and thorough. Becky saw the fury in her father's face and didn't even argue, but turned and lowered the flimsy bikini bottom, baring her petite cheeks. She carefully touched her toes, yelping and writhing as the hard stick lashed ruby weals across her rounded rump. After four she was biting her lip to keep from screaming; six had tears glistening in her eyes. After nine she had difficulty staying in position, drawing a reprimand from her father. When the dozen lines had been applied, she was ordered to "stay in position and wait for the rest."

"Who's next?" asked Mr. Davis. Seven nervous teens stared in horror and disbelief. No one moved. "Must I call your parents?"

The lovely Doris Mulberry hastily stepped forward. Just seventeen, her voluptuous asscheeks were barely contained by the pink bikini. The tiny cloth came down quickly and she bravely bore the dozen crimson stripes. Then she stood, gasping, wriggling back into the swimsuit bottom. Thick ruby weals were still visible at the edges of the suit.

It was a grim line of girls who took turns lowering bikinis and suffering the lash of the strict cane on their bare bottoms. When all the girls had been thrashed, Becky, the ringleader, was given a second dose.

By that time I had spurted twice and was well on my way to a third frantic come. This was the hottest thing I'd seen in my fourteen years. Damn I was glad I still had this treehouse overlooking the Davis' backyard.

And even gladder I'd had the foresight to anonymously report the naughty party to Mr. Davis.

The End