The String Bikini Spanking

The most embarrassing moment of my life happened when I was a senior in high school. I received a spanking in front of my younger brother and two of his little, creep friends. They saw me practically naked—wearing nothing but a tiny, string bikini—as I lay across my father's lap. They ended up seeing even more than that.

The worst part was, it was all my own fault.

I had just turned eighteen. In a few months, I would be finished with high school forever. But of more immediate interest: in just a week I would be headed down to the Florida panhandle for Spring Break.

My parents, in a huge change of attitude, had given in and allowed me to travel with Cindy and Stephanie, two of my best friends, down to the coast for an entire week. Normally, my parents were very strict about letting me do anything—let alone going unsupervised to Spring Break—but I had made a deal with them. Keep all my grades up and they would consider it.

My straight A's made it impossible for them to say no.

"Alright, Lindsey," said my mom. "Your father and I are going to trust you, and let you go on the trip. But you have to promise to be safe and to be smart."

"Yes, Mom."

"No drinking."

"Yes, Mom."

"No drugs."

"Yes, Mom."

"No boys."

"Mom!"

"I mean it, Lindsey. Don't make us regret this."

But before I ever even left to go to Florida, I had let my mother and father down. They were disappointed in me, but I was the one who regretted it. Big time.

It was all because of the bikini.

I wanted something super hot and sexy to wear while we were in Florida. I had been working out and watching my diet for the whole year, and I was really beginning to feel good about my body. My belly was flat, my breasts had filled in nicely, and as I stood looking at myself naked in the mirror—wide hips, long legs, round butt—I thought, not half bad, Linds.

Guys told me I was cute all the time. I didn't even wear much make-up. I had long blond hair, which I was just as happy wearing down as I was tying up.

I ran my hands over my curves, cupped my breasts, enjoying their perkiness, patted my tight ass. The only thing was, I hadn't been able to get rid of my tanlines. I knew that the tiny bikini I wanted would show them off, but I hoped that I might get a day or two before we left to hit the tanning salon.

But first, I had to get the bikini.

I had ordered it online. It was super cute and daringly tiny. Red and green, barely more than strings. Tiny patches of fabric for the breasts, for the crotch. Almost a thong in the back. I'd never worn anything like it, but I daydreamed about slipping it on, feeling extra sexy, turning heads on the Florida beaches.

Every day, I was the first one home—my mother and father both worked until the early evening—and my little brother, Billy, never paid any attention to the mail. No one sends thirteen-year-olds mail.

So I was pretty confident that when the package with the bikini came, I would be the one to get it. Apparently, the universe wanted to teach me a lesson.

Mom had a half day from work.

I came home from school, checked for the mail. There wasn't any. I walked in the house and Mom greeted me with a package in her hand.

"Looking for this?"

I tried playing innocent.

"What's that?"

"It's a package for you."

"Oh, thanks," I said. I reached out for it.

"Care to tell me what you ordered?"

"Hmm? Oh, just some new socks."

"New socks?" I didn't know, but I'd already sprung the trap. I was caught.

"Yeah."

"New socks from Sexy Swimwear? Sexy with three X's?"

My mouth was suddenly dry. I swallowed.

"Why don't you open it right here," my mom said. It wasn't a question.

I tore open the package and pulled out a plastic bag. I reached in, pulled out the bikini. It was hard to see the shape of the thing. It was practically all strings.

My mother kind of lost it. She grabbed the bikini out of my hand, held it up, looked at it from a variety of angles.

"You were going to wear this? Lindsey. I'm shocked."

"I didn't realize it was so small," I said. It was actually true, but she didn't believe me. I had ordered the bikini with the expectation that it would be tiny. But actually seeing it was something else. Anyway, my mother wasn't buying my denial.

"You ordered a bikini from a place called Sexxxy Swimwear. What did you expect?"

I opened my mouth, but there wasn't anything to say.

"To your room," said my mother.

Her face was an angry mask. I wanted to ask if I was still going to be allowed to go to Florida. I mean, she seemed that mad. But I didn't even want to bring it up.

I went to my room, cheeks burning from embarrassment. My mother must think I'm a total slut, I thought. And the trip to Florida. If she wanted, she could tell my father and once he saw that bikini, I might not even be allowed out of the house again until I went to college in the fall, let alone Florida. But the hotel was already paid for, I thought miserably.

I sat on my bed and texted with Cindy for while. Mom is so pissed, I told her. Dad home soon. If I'm still alive, will talk 2 u later.

Eventually my father did get home. I would still be alive after he was done with me, but I would be wishing I were dead. The shame and humiliation about to be heaped upon me was still in the future.

In the meantime, I lay on my bed and closed my eyes.

I woke up to my father rapping on my bedroom door.

"Lindsey. Come downstairs. We're going to have a talk."

This was it, I thought. I waited until I heard his footsteps going back downstairs, then I got up. Looked at myself in the mirror. On my way to the gallows.

I opened my door and stepped out into the hallway. I heard obnoxious giggling from the neighboring room. My little brother's room. When I walked past, I glanced inside. My brother was there, along with two of his friends from the neighborhood: Mark and Scott. The three boys looked at me as I walked past, grins on their faces.

"Someone's in trouble," said my brother Billy.

Mark and Scott watched me with perverted eyes, studied my tanned legs, their gazes not so subtlely moving across my ass and up to check out my breasts. Creeps. I was wearing a T-shirt and shorts, but somehow I felt naked.

I hurried downstairs, found my mother and father waiting for me in the living room. The plastic bag from Sexxxy Swimwear which contained the micro bathing suit was in my father's hands. He was sitting on the couch. My mother stood near the sliding door to the patio, looking at me with those disappointed eyes.

"Looks like we were wrong to trust you, Young Lady," said my father. He shook his head as he reached into the bag, pulled out the tiny, string bikini. "Care to explain this."

"I didn't think it would be that small." I saw his eyes narrow, as my mother's had earlier. "I didn't. I knew it was a little risque." His eyes narrowed further at that word. "I mean, it’s not too risque. I mean—"

"Not too risque? I'd hate to see what you do consider risque." He shook the cotton strings. "This is beyond inappropriate. You should be embarrassed to even think about wearing something like this. I thought we taught you better."

"Dad . . ."

"Clearly, you need to be shown what is and isn't appropriate to wear. Your mother and I talked about it and we agree." He held the bikini towards me. "You're going to go upstairs and put this on. And then take a good long look in the mirror."

"You want me to put it on?"

"Take a good look in the mirror at yourself. And then you're going to come down here and apologize for buying it. Apologize for thinking so little of yourself that you would even consider prancing around a public beach in such a thing. And then you're going to tell us why you think it's inappropriate. See if it's getting through your head. Understand?"

"You want me to put the bikini on?"

"That's what I said. And then look at yourself in the mirror. Really look. And after you come downstairs and apologize, we can talk about your punishment."

"Punishment?" I knew it. They weren't going to let me go to Florida. Hundreds of dollars—tickets and hotel—down the drain.

"Fine," I said. I snatched the string bikini from his hand and stomped up the stairs, past my brother's room and his friend's leering eyes, and into my room. I slammed the door behind me and then looked at the bikini in my hand.

Everything was screwed up and that pissed me off. I felt sick. But looking at those little bits of string and fabric, I found myself becoming strangely curious. I wanted to try the bikini on. I couldn't wait to see myself in it.

Because despite what I had told my mother and father, I knew it was going to be small when I bought it. That's why I bought it.

Suddenly excited, I tossed the bathing suit on my bed, began tearing off my clothes.

*     *     *

Once I had the bikini on, strings tied and all the fabric(and there wasn't much!) covering the correct spots, I looked at myself in the mirror as I had been instructed to do.

My God, I thought. I looked really, really hot. I felt sexy. I felt amazing. The bikini top strained against my young, full breasts, just barely concealing my nipples and areola. The pale skin of my breasts spilled out on every side, peeked out underneath the fabric. It made my boobs look even bigger, held them up, lifted and centered, with a wedge of sexy cleavage. I'd never felt so impressed by my chest.

And the bottoms. Wow. The pale tanline of my old bikini was visible all around, a white shadow around my hips, wider than the tiny string bikini I now wore. My round ass, barely covered by the new bikini, looked fantastic. I ran my hand over my bottom, lifted and let bounce the tight cheeks. The bare cheeks. The only covering, hardly more than a thong, rode up between them, disappeared to almost nothing, plunged into my crack.

It looked exactly how I imagined when I bought it. Better even. I felt sexier than I ever had before. So hot. My cheeks felt warm; there was a tingling between my thighs, which I longed to soothe with my fingers. Except—

"Lindsey." Banging on the door, my father called in to me. "That's long enough. Have you put it on?"

"Yes," I called through the door.

"Good, then get downstairs. It's time for us to discuss your punishment."

I hung my head. I couldn't believe the trip was all messed up, that today of all days my mother had come home early and the package had arrived. Like the universe was conspiring against me.

"Alright," I called. "Gimme a minute to change."

"Don't change. I want you downstairs wearing that abomination. Understand?"

"Dad!" I couldn't wear this outside my room. I was practically naked. "I can't. I mean, I have to put on some more clothes."

"Downstairs! Right now. As you are."

"Dad, I—"

"Not another word, Lindsey. Your mother and I will be waiting."

I heard him walk away down the hallway, then his footsteps loud on the stairs. I stared after him, looking blankly at my bedroom door.

I couldn't go out there looking like this. My reflection in the mirror caught my attention. I suddenly didn't feel as sexy. I felt naked. Almost completely naked. And my brother, I thought. Horrified, I realized that Mark and Scott, his two friends, those two little pervs that were always staring at me like they were picturing me naked, were here.

If they saw me like this, I thought, wildly, they would barely need their imaginations. My entire body was very nearly on display. I thought I might die right there if they saw me wearing so little. The times they had seen me in my much more modest bikini, I felt dirty long after they were gone. Now, this.

I couldn't go out there like this. But my father and mother were waiting downstairs. I suddenly understood a little bit why they were angry. I was embarrassed to be seen wearing my new bikini.

My eyes scanned my room quickly, fell upon a towel hanging from the hook on the wall behind my door. The towel from my last shower, big enough to wrap around myself. It would cover me from my chest down to my knees. I grabbed it off the hook, wrapped it around my exposed body. Tucked under my armpits, it covered everything completely. Still sort of embarrassing, especially knowing that I would have to cross in front of my brother's room. Maybe they wouldn't be looking. It would be only a second.

Taking a deep breath, my near-nudity covered by the towel, I opened my door and stepped out into the hallway.

*     *     *

My luck wasn't good. Just the way this day was going, and it was only going to get worse. Much worse.

I crept down the hallway—I should have just hurried along—and as I reached the open door of my brother's room, I peeked in. The three young boys were seated on the floor in front of my brother's television, video game controllers in hand. Except their eyes were all up and focused on me as I passed the doorway.

I lingered long enough to see the eyes of those two little pervs, Mark and Scott, grow wide. How much had they heard of my father's angry speech downstairs and then a moment earlier at my door? Did these two creeps know just how little I was wearing underneath the towel? I felt so naked.

Their eyes never leaving my body, I rushed past and down the stairs.

As I entered the living room, my father was back on the couch and my mother was still standing near the sliding door to the back porch. They had been talking but when I appeared they broke off their conversation. My father looked at me, eyes narrowing.

"What are you wearing, Lindsey?"

"I'm wearing the bikini. Geez, Dad. I had to put a towel on. Billy has friends over."

"Take that towel off right now."

"What?"

In the privacy of my own room, with the door shut and locked, that was one thing. But he was asking me to drop the towel right here in the living room, with nothing on but this micro string bikini. How could I? With two little horny boys in the house with my brother?

"I said lose the towel, young lady. Now." He stood up, as if he intended to come over and remove the towel physically.

"But . . . " I lowered my voice, because I didn't want the boys listening to what was going on. "But Billy's friends are here."

"What's the matter?" asked my mother. "Feeling a little shy in your new bikini? Do you see why we're upset?"

"I do," I told her.

"Remove the towel, Lindsey," said my father. "Do it now."

"But Mark and Scott."

"What about them?"

"What if they see me?"

"They're upstairs. Besides, how many people would have seen you in that bikini on the beach in Florida?" asked my mother.

"But that's different."

"How is it different?"

"It's . . ." I couldn't think of anything.

"The only difference," said my mother, "is that those would have been strangers seeing you. Boys you didn't even know. Boys who had a lot of bad ideas in their heads. Getting the wrong idea from your slut suit."

"Mom!"

"You know your brother's friends, and yet you're embarrassed. Those strange boys would have seen your whole body and that doesn't even bother you? I'm afraid we raised you poorly."

"Mom."

"Lindsey." My father was growing angrier. "Don't make me tell you again."

"Fine," I said. I was getting angrier, too. Slut suit? Raised poorly?

I reached down and undid the towel, tossed it onto the floor. I stood there before my parents, wearing the tiniest of string bikinis. My mother actually gasped and put a hand to her mouth. My father simply shook his head.

"There's absolutely no way you're stepping outside in that," he said. "Look at yourself."

"I did, Dad."

"Your mother and I are very disappointed in you. We need to hear an apology. Come on."

"What should I apologize for? I'm sorry that I bought this bikini?"

"You can apologize for that, and for letting us down. We agreed to let you go on this trip. We trusted your judgment, but I guess that was a mistake."

"Geez, you guys. It's just a bikini. And I am sorry I bought it. Now everything's messed up. I assume I won't be going to Florida?"

"We can talk about that later," my father told me.

"Just a bikini?" my mother said. "Just a bikini? You're apparently ashamed enough of that bikini that you have to wear a towel over it in your own house."

"That's because of Mark and Scott."

"What about them?" asked my mother.

"What about them? I don't want them to see me like this."

"And why not?"

"Because . . . " I wanted to say because they're perverts. But I suddenly thought, I'm the one wearing the bikini. If they stare at my body, it's only because I'm displaying it. Was I actually starting to see my mother's point of view?

"I shouldn't have bought the bikini," I said. I looked at my father. "I'm sorry."

He stared at me for a moment, and then nodded. "That sounded sincere. Apology accepted." He turned to face my mother. "Ruth?"

"I think she's starting to understand."

"So can I go back upstairs now?"

"There's still your punishment to discuss."

"My punishment? Can I at least put the towel back on?"

"Consider this part of your punishment," my mother said. "You have to wear the bikini that you bought. Terrible, isn't it?"

"Ok, then," I said, trying to sound confident. I felt horribly exposed standing there in the tiny bathing suit in my living room. The string was riding up my crack and the air all across my nearly nude body was giving me goosebumps. "What else? Am I grounded? I assume I can't go on the trip. Anything else?"

"This is important," my father said. "You broke your trust with your mother and I; and you buying this bikini, your wanting to wear this crude thing out in public is disturbing. We need to make sure you understand that this is completely inappropriate behaviour for a young lady. Which is what you are now. So we have to make sure you get this through your head. Not acceptable behavior."

"Alright," I said. "So what? No phone, no internet?"

He shook his head.

"What? No car?"

Instead of answering, he turned and walked to the couch, and then sat down. From there, he returned his hard eyes to me.

I looked from him to my mom and then back again.

"What?"

"Come here, Lindsey. Lay down across my lap."

"What?"

"Right now, Young Lady."

I used to get a spanking sometimes when I did something really extra terrible. I probably hadn't gotten one since I was twelve or thirteen. I was eighteen now! My father couldn't seriously be—

"Lindsey, get over here right now and lie down across my lap. You need to be taught this lesson. Right now. Over my lap."

My father's stern voice, the most commanding and angered tone he ever used, pulled me across the room, moving my feet almost without my input. The towel lay discarded where I dropped it. I approached my father, stood before him wearing nothing but the tiny bikini which had gotten me into this whole mess. Like the little girl who still remembered having her bottom spanked, I stood with my head down in front of my father. I crossed my arms over my nearly bare body.

He patted his lap.

"Let's get this over with," he said, impatient. "Come on."

He reached a hand up towards me. I let him take ahold of one of my wrists, pull me forward and then down.

My mind reeling, I found myself laid across my father's lap, wearing nothing but a tiny, string bikini. My bare behind, covered by little more than a thong, stuck up in the air. I felt like a guilty little kid lying there, not an eighteen year-old high school senior, only a couple months from finishing school.

"Alright, Lindsey," said my father. "Here's how this is going to work. I'm going to—"

Only he didn't get a chance to finish.

"What's going on?" The worst sound I could imagine.

My little brother's voice.

"Is Lindsey getting spanked?" He sounded excited and amused. And then I heard a noise fit for my worst nightmares. The unmistakable giggle of my brother's friend, Mark. I glanced over my shoulder, saw all three thirteen-year-old boys—my brother, Mark, and Scott—halfway down the steps, mouths open, eyes wide, staring at me.

My God, I thought, I was nearly naked! Lying across my father's lap, my almost-bare ass up in the air, wearing practically nothing.

I began struggling, which unfortunately drew my father's attention—and his anger—away from my brother and back on to me.

"Lindsey!" His voice was a harsh bark. "Stop that this instant."

I was kicking my legs and trying to scramble off his lap, to hide somewhere. Find some place to disappear, hopefully forever. This was beyond humiliating.

Only, it was just beginning.

"I said, stop," my father ordered, and then SMACK! His hand came down on my exposed bottom and I let out a yelp and an indignant curse.

"Such language," my mother said, and I could hear the shaking of her head, even if I didn't see it.

One of the watching boys snickered. Oh God.

"Dad, stop," I cried. "I need to cover up. Dad, please."

"That," he said, "is exactly the lesson you need to be learning."

And then SMACK! Another spank landed. SMACK! Another.

"They're watching," I cried. "Please!"

But I was being ignored.

At least, by my father I was being ignored.

I glanced back over my shoulder, then squeezed my eyes shut, immediately wished that I hadn't looked.

My brother was watching with his mouth open in disbelief.

His two friends were standing right there with him. Eyes wide, mouths split into enormous grins, watching as I—their friend's older sister, eighteen year-old Lindsey Malone, whom I know they lusted for, drooled over, fantasized about—lay across her father's lap wearing nothing but a red and green string bikini and received a spanking on her thong-exposed bare ass.

SMACK!

I kicked feebly. I grabbed a hold of my father's pants. I cried out in pain and humiliation with each blow that landed on my delicate backside. SMACK!

"Dad, please!"

SMACK!

"Make them go upstairs!"

SMACK!

He answered, "What's the matter?" SMACK! "Embarrassed to be seen in your new bikini?"

SMACK!

Young boys giggling.

SMACK!

Watching.

SMACK!

Ogling.

SMACK!

And my father's hand SMACK! came down again and again SMACK! on my jiggling, reddening, fully exposed cheeks.

SMACK!

"Dad!"

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

*     *     *

After two dozen or more hard spanks had landed on my exposed bottom, I noticed with growing horror that after all my squirming and struggling, the tiny bikini top had shifted and my bare breasts were hanging out, jiggling and bouncing.

"Dad!"

SMACK!

"Dad, I need to fix my top. Please, they can see everything."

"That's what happens," he said, "when you wear such revealing things."

SMACK!

Then, instead of helping me fix my top, or giving me a chance to cover myself back up, I felt my father grip me tightly around my waist with the hand which had been spanking me. Suddenly his other hand was pulling at the strings on my back and at my neck which tied my bikini top.

"What are you doing?" I shouted.

But with a few quick yanks, the suit was untied. It dropped off my body, landed on the carpet at my father's feet. I reached out and grabbed it, but I was still laid across my father's lap and there wasn't anything I could do besides lay there, holding the discarded bikini top.

Now instead of my breasts partially exposed, I was completely topless.

"Dad!"

I knew my brother's two friends, Mark and Scott, were getting a good eyeful and my face was turning hot and red to match my sore, spanked butt.

Once more, my father adjusted my positioning, switching me from one arm to the other, and then I felt the horrifying sensation of his big fingers working at the strings holding my bottoms together.

I began kicking furiously. "What are you doing? Not with them here, please! You can't! I'll be naked! Don't let them watch, please!"

"For someone who was planning to prance all around a public beach with hundreds of strangers watching, you've certainly gotten awfully shy."

I felt the knot on my left hip come undone, the strings dropping limp against the skin of my thigh. His fingers moved to the other side. I struggled trying to keep the tied strings away from him. I must have been putting on quite a show for the little perverts watching, twisting and sticking my spanked round ass up in the air.

SMACK!

"Stop squirming," my father said, momentarily pausing in his attempt to untie the bikini.

"Please," I said again, "I'll be naked."

At last, my mother spoke up on my behalf. Addressing my brother, she said, "What exactly are you boys doing down here, just standing there?"

"W-we were just coming down to get some ginger ale," my brother stammered, perhaps sensing that he might be getting into trouble.

"I don't see a refrigerator in here," my mother said, sternly. "Get in the kitchen if that's what you're after, and then go to your room." Thanks, Mom, but a little late, I thought.

"Yes ma'am."

I glanced over my shoulder, cheeks burning with shame as the boys began moving the rest of the way downstairs. All three kept stealing quick peeks in my direction. I knew they could see almost everything. My spanked, red cheeks. My bared breasts hanging beneath me. Practically every inch of my young, tanned body was naked before their probing eyes. And my father was working on the last bit of covering I had.

As the three boys disappeared into the kitchen, my father's fingers yank the knot at my right hip loose. I felt the strings drop uselessly against my skin, and then a second later, the untied bikini bottoms were pulled right off my body and tossed onto the floor near my head. I could see them, a few feet away, and felt air on my naked body.

My naked body.

Oh God, I thought. I was now bare-assed naked, across my father's lap, and being spanked like a bad little girl. Even though I was eighteen! And my brother and his two little creep friends had seen it all. Almost. At least they hadn't seen—

SMACK!

"Ow!"

SMACK!

It began again, my father punishing my already reddened backside with more spanks. This time, my jiggling cheeks were completely bared, my naked breasts swung free. My kicking and squirming no doubt was flashing my most private spot for all to see.

I reached back with one hand, trying to shield my aching bottom. My father took ahold of my wrist, pinned my arm behind me.

"Hey!"

SMACK!

And right then, the three boys came back into the room. I saw them, each carrying a can of ginger ale, eyes wide as they now saw me stripped fully naked, an arm pinned behind me, my humiliating spanking continuing.

SMACK!

Every single inch of my body. On full display.

SMACK!

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I could still see the leering grins of those little creeps behind my eyelids; I would never hear the end of it. SMACK! I would never be able to look them in the eyes again. SMACK! I was utterly humiliated.

SMACK!

"Billy. Boys." My mother's stern voice. "Upstairs. Now."

"We're going," I heard my brother say.

SMACK!

I felt my ass shake with each blow landed. Felt the naked scarlet flesh burning under the searing gaze of the boys, where I knew their eyes lingered. And between my legs, where I couldn't help but flash them everything as I kicked and struggled with each—

SMACK!

Oh. My. God.

SMACK!

Bare-assed naked. Spanked. Tits bouncing. Pussy out there. SMACK! Everything out there for my brother and his two friends to see.

SMACK!

I wanted to die.

SMACK!

Finally, footsteps disappearing upstairs.

SMACK!

Thankfully out of sight.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

It went on.

*     *     *

After the three boys had gone, I just laid there, hardly struggling anymore at all. I kept my eyes closed, thought about going somewhere and just disappearing forever. I didn't think I'd be able to face my brother and his friends ever again.

I had nightmares that weren't as horrifying as those boys seeing me stripped completely naked and spanked like a child.

And yet, they'd just seen exactly that.

My cheeks—the ones on my face—were burning with the shame of it. They felt as red as my ass must surely be from the spanking. Which had paused for the moment.

My father was no longer spanking me.

Was my ordeal finally over?

"Stand up, Lindsey." He released my arm, the one he'd pinned across my back.

Obediently, I slipped off his lap and kneeled on the floor, not even caring about my bared breasts, or that I was sticking my spanked ass out. I reached one hand around, rubbed the sore, tingling flesh.

"Up," my father said.

I stood, becoming more aware of my complete nudity. I was standing in the living room of my house, in front of both my parents, without a stitch of clothing. I covered my chest with one arm, shielded my pussy with the other. Absurdly, I felt embarrassed that I hadn't yet shaved my bikini line and was a bit fuzzy down there.

I stared at the floor, my ass aching.

"Look at me," my father said. When I raised my eyes, he said, "I hope you learned your lesson today. This was a very important one. Tell me, did you learn your lesson?"

"Yes," I said.

"What did you learn?"

"I shouldn't have betrayed your trust. You and Mom. By getting the bikini."

I looked at the discarded halves of the bathing suit. Just strings.

"It was inappropriate. I should have more respect for my body." I sniffled a bit. "I didn't . . . I mean, I shouldn't enjoy showing it off."

"Anything else?"

"Just that I'm sorry," I said.

My father didn't say anything for a while. He sat with his arms crossed, looked over at my mother, back at me. I shifted uncomfortably, very aware my nakedness. What if my brother and his friends came back down, I thought, and saw more of me. A part of me screamed out, they've already seen more than enough. Still, I shivered.

"Alright," my father said at last. "I think you can go up to your room and spend the rest of the night thinking about this."

I nodded, eyes down.

"Lindsey," my mother said. "I'm sorry but this was for your own good."

I nodded. Risked raising my eyes. "About the trip . . . I mean, the hotel and everything . . ."

"We'll discuss it later," my father told me, and his tone suggested I shouldn't bring it up again until they were ready.

"You're excused," he said. "Upstairs. Think very hard about what happened here this evening. About why we're mad."

"Okay," I said.

Still covering myself with my arms, I moved forward a few steps, scooped up the long-ago discarded towel. I wrapped it around myself, thankful to hide my over-exposed body.

I left the bikini lying in two pieces on the carpet.

Holding the towel tight around my body, I ascended the stairs. My parents silently watched me go.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I hesitated.

My brother's door was open. Somehow, I was certain that the three boys were just waiting to see me dash humiliated past the door.

I swallowed hard, tightened my grip on the towel, and forced myself to walk unhurriedly past. I kept my eyes straight ahead.

Crossing in front of the open door, I knew without looking, that three sets of eyes—my obnoxious brother, and those two leering friends of his—were watching me.

I knew that despite the towel I now wore over my nude body, that the three boys had seen every inch of me naked, fully exposed. The two perverts, Mark and Scott, would no doubt replay my humiliating nude spanking over and over in their minds. I shivered with disgust as I walked.

My body covered by a towel. Underneath, my punished bottom blazing red, the same as my blushing cheeks.

And then I was past.

I hurried the final few steps, ducked into my room.

Just as I was closing the door, I heard that noise from my brother's room. The noise I would hear over and over as I sat and played back the most embarrassing moment of my young life.

The three boys—the wide-eyed witnesses to my naked spanking—were laughing.

Even after I closed my door, laid on my bed with my eyes closed, I could see them grinning, Mark and Scott salivating. I could hear them snickering.

THE END