The following story is fiction. It contain scenes of spanking and sex. If such subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.
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Once upon a time there was a girl named Golda Lockstein, but of course nobody called her that. Everybody, even her parents, called her Goldilocks. She was as bouncy and perky and spoiled as only a seventeen-year-old Jewish American Princess can be. One bright and sunny April morning she left her parents' house in a fashionable Miami suburb, but instead of going to Beth-El Day Academy, she drove straight to Elizabeth Arden's in her red MG. When she emerged three hours later, her naturally curly auburn hair was a radiant blonde. Goldie hopped into the car, straightened her short skirt and headed for West Palm Beach and the address she'd gotten from the flyer at the club.
Daddy's gonna throw an absolute fit when he sees this, she thought to herself, and grinned at her reflection in the rearview mirror.
Her Daddy would throw more than a fit if he knew his baby girl was skipping summer school to go to a keg party. Goldie didn't care though, parental wrath is of little import when you're seventeen and beautiful and have the chance to go to a party with college boys. Along the way, she stopped at her best friend Shelby Fein's house and picked her up. As soon as they'd seen the flyer last night, the two girls had decided to ditch school and go to the party, no matter if there was hell to pay.
Now the two girls speeded down the highway towards West Palm Beach with a Cramps CD popped into the player, laughing and blowing kisses at other cars on the freeway. Goldie had a kerchief knotted over her golden curls. Shelby's strawberry blonde hair blew out behind her like a streamer. The sun glinted off the candy apple lacquer of the car and off the girls' sunglasses.
When they arrived, the party was already well underway. A tall, lanky boy with long hair and pierced ears answered the door. He held a beer in each hand and invited them in with a puckish grin.© YLeeCoyote
"Hey there ladies, welcome to Casa de Bruno. There's plenty of pizza and beer. Keg's by the pool. Anything you want, just ask …. Name's Junior."
He cast a smooth smirk at Goldie who giggled with sudden self consciousness. She felt the boy's eyes move over her young body and had a sudden, crazy urge to blurt, what big eyes you have, Grandma.
The house was full of lithe young girls, all in various stages of undress, frolicking in the pool, shrieking as they splashed water on one another, and on the boys. Not just boys, Goldie reminded herself as she looked around, giggling and grabbing Shelby's arm, COLLEGE MEN! All around the two excited teens were nubile girls and bronzed boys, lounging by the pool, sipping beers and talking softly or dancing on the terrace to the window-shaking hip-hop music that blared from the expensive stereo.
Goldie and Shelby took it all in, wandering around, accepting slices of pizza proffered them by a couple of the shirtless boys who lounged on the pool deck, accepting sweaty plastic cups of lukewarm beer from the keg.
Eventually, Goldie wound up alone in the hot tub with the lanky boy who'd answered the door.
"Oh my Gawd, you seem so young to have a place like this. You must make a lot of money. Like, what do you do? I bet you're a day trader, right? Or wait, don't tell me. You're like, in the music business, right?" Goldie bubbled, having downed three cups of beer and feeling no pain.
The boy grinned his vulpine smile, showing sharp white teeth.
"Actually, I'm in movies. Wanna see my studio?"
"Oh my Gawd. Shut up. This is totally too much. Hang on, I gotta get my friend…."
Goldie awkwardly tried to make her way out of the hot tub. Her head was swimming from the effects of the beer and the hot water. The boy called Junior put his arms around her, laughing as he steadied her.
"Man, you are so wasted. Come on, let me show you my studio."
She giggled as he led her back through the house. It was dark outside now but the party was still in full swing. The stereo blasted and they threaded their way through several sweaty bodies of shirtless, gyrating teens, into the house.
"C'mon, let's go upstairs," Junior said, guiding her gently.
"Oh ho, I know what you want," Goldie giggled, shaking an unsteady finger at him. "I've heard all about boys like you who try to get girls to come upstairs at parties…."
Junior's hands were strong, and felt so good as they rubbed her smooth shoulders. He let one slip down to cup her butt cheek as she stumbled upstairs, giggling. Along the way, they passed another couple going down.
"Way to go, man, awesome party," the boy said, punching Junior's tanned biceps.
They reached the top of the stairs, and Junior led her into what must have been the master bedroom. It was an impressive suite with one wall made entirely of glass, looking out on the pool, where the bacchanalia raged on. They sat on the edge of the bed. The sheets were snowy white, but rumpled. Junior got up and dimmed the lights. He came over and lay down next to her. His hand touched her breast.
"You're cold…." he murmured softly.
"Mmm…warm me up," she whispered.
Outside, the thumping of the bass from the stereo made the house throb.
Her heart was racing and for just a second she wondered where Shelby was and what she was doing. He ran his hands all over her, sensually, expertly. She felt her nipples stiffen up when he touched them, felt the heat rising and her excitement mounting. She pushed him backwards on the bed and crawled on top of him.
His strong hands held her narrow hips and they bucked frantically. His breath got ragged, he panted as his body got slick with sweat. Goldie's curls bounced as she rode him. Little noised of high pitched excitement escaped her lips. Neither of them noticed when the music stopped abruptly.
Just then, the master bedroom door burst open. Junior sat bolt upright in bed with a harsh, "What the fuck?!"
A very angry couple walked in. The man was tall, broad shouldered, with shaggy blonde hair. He brushed a forelock out of his face. He said nothing, but strode to the bed and grabbed a fistful of Junior's own straw-colored hair.
The woman was sleek and exotic looking, like an anthropomorphized Siamese cat. She was the one doing the talking.
"What do you think you are doing? Is this how you behave when we go out of town? It's a damned good thing that we decided not to stay in Orlando after all," the woman shouted.
"Ma! Pa! I can explain….!" Junior shouted, but it was in vain.
The older man dragged the boy roughly from the bed.
"And in our bedroom, too! That's plain disgusting," his mother said, raking her palm across the rumpled sheets.
Goldie sat huddled in the bed with the sheet clutched to her chest, watching the whole scene with wide eyed fear.
Junior was desperately attempting to explain, but his pa didn't listen, just dragged the protesting boy across the room. He sat down heavily at the vanity bench and pulled the struggling boy across his lap.
"No, Pa, please! Don't! You can't!"
"Oh I can't, can't I? Well, just watch me!"
The older man held the struggling lad across his lap and began to rain heavy blows on the boy's lean, upturned butt with his broad, hard palm.
Goldie watched with her mouth hanging open, half horrified, half enthralled. She'd never so much as had a swat on her shorts in preschool, and now she was watching a boy who had to be at least twenty get his desperately squirming and struggling butt soundly paddled by his muscular, gruffly handsome, father.
"You're lucky nobody called the cops. We could hear the music from a quarter mile away," the hapless boy's mother snapped at her son.
Both his parents were lecturing him, but their words seemed lost on their errant son. His mind was occupied with other matters. He begged and pleaded, promised to be good, and desperately kicked his long legs in his efforts to escape his father's iron grip and heavy hand beating enthusiastic applause on his bare butt.
Goldie noted that the boy's bouncing butt was turning rapidly from pale to pink to bright red. Suddenly, it occurred to her that she had better leave, and quick. She hastily squirmed for the edge of the bed and made a frantic grab for her clothes.
"Just where do you think you're going, Missy?" Junior's mother demanded.
Goldie made a frantic dash for the door, but the older woman was faster and clamped her hand on the girl's slim arm.
"Junior, you should be ashamed of yourself. This girl's no more than sixteen. Now, young lady, what would your parents say about you going to house parties, sneaking around with older boys, doing I-don't-want-to-know-what in this bed when there were no adults present?" Junior's mother demanded, fire flashing in her dark eyes.
Goldie struggled to get away, twisting her arm desperately, but she was unceremoniously dragged across the floor. The only thing she could think to say was, "I'm s-seventeen!"
"Well, Miss Seventeen, how long's it been since this little butt got blistered?" the woman demanded, plopping down on the edge of the bed.
"No! You can't!" Goldie shrieked, but nobody listened.
Goldie cried and begged, snarled, cussed and sobbed, but her protests fell on deaf ears. In spite of all her struggles, she found herself pinned across the older woman's lap and felt the first of many stinging blows land on her tender, pink, upended backside.
The two angry parents fell silent then, and applied themselves to their tasks with vigor. For what seemed an eternity, the only sounds in that upstairs bedroom were those of hard smacks landing on hot butts, and tearful wayward youths promising to be good, and begging for mercy.
When it was all over at last, Junior was sent to stand sniffling in the corner, his bright red butt shining like a beacon. Goldie's parents were called and she was chauffeured home, sniffling and squirming on the suddenly hard passenger seat, by Junior's grim-faced daddy. Her red MG hung behind his huge truck tow truck like a toy. On the side of the work-scarred truck was painted: Bruno & Sons Towing Co.
Her parents met her at the door with expressions of angry concern. An unpleasant scene followed. Shelby's parents had called when their daughter arrived home after curfew and smelling of beer. The school had called. What was she thinking? She could have been abducted or worse. She was grounded to her room until further notice.
Through it all, Junior's daddy had stood by the door with his muscular arms crossed and a look of grim amusement on his face. Just when she thought the parental tirade was over and was on the verge of flouncing up to her room, the older man spoke.
"Why don't you spank her?"
Goldie's jaw dropped. Her parents looked at him with expressions of shock. He scarcely raised an eyebrow and continued, "My wife's already given her one. Seemed to do her good. Soon as I get back home, my boy's getting a dose of the strap."
Goldie opened her mouth to sneer, but to her chagrin her father said, "That's an excellent suggestion Mister, uh…."
"Bruno," Junior's daddy replied with a cryptic smirk, "Just call me Bruno."
"Very well, Mr. Bruno, young lady, I think you have been needing this for a long time. Now get over here Golda Lockstein!" Goldie's daddy ordered.
And so it was Mr. Bruno that Goldie cursed mentally during the whole, humiliating (not to mention painful) ordeal. And who she would curse each subsequent time, for little Goldilocks' parents were to employ this out of fashion disciplinary method to their darling daughter's tochis for a long time to come.
© Copyright July 15, 2001. This story and all characters described therein are the sole property of Ashley Wright. The author does not grant permission to reproduce this story without her express written permission. To request permission to reproduce this or any other works by Ashley Wright, please contact the author via email. Sorry: Author's email is unknown
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Last updated: September 15, 2023