Incident At Solsey Sands by Nap copyright 2002 by Nap, all rights reserved * * * * * Note This story is a fantasy for adults only. The author utterly condemns any form of actual abuse physical, sexual, psychological and emotional to any person of any age. * * * * * 1959 Summer - Solsey Sands, a seaside resort in south east England. The beach was jam-packed with visitors, most of them day trippers down from London making the most of a sunny weekend. Despite or perhaps because of the teeming crowds of people, each family had marked out its territory with towels, bags, vacuum flasks, windbreaks and deckchairs. But so close were these little islands of independence that those making their way to or from the sea and promenade had to pick their way carefully between them, making sure not to disturb the sleep, sandcastles or sunbathing of their neighbours. The patchwork society of the beach was, in fact, a tribute to tolerance and consideration. Apart from Trevor and Brenda. Trevor now insisted he was twelve and a half, putting emphasis on the fraction of his maturity, and his sister Brenda was just over a year younger. They had no consideration or tolerance for anyone least of all each other. They had squabbled and whined all the way down on the train to Solsey from their Lambeth home. Now changed for sea bathing, they ran in and out of the waves scattering sand, spray and small children in their wake. They delighted in charging through the most marvellous architectural edifices of sand wrought by little kids and proud parents. They kicked sand in sandwiches and cold water onto burning backs. Whenever they saw anyone trying to change under The precarious cover of a flimsy screen of towels they would dance this way and that to peek a glimpse of hidden flesh. Their raucous shrieks destroyed peace and their unruly brawls wrecked property. Oaths, wails and glares followed the progress of this pair of pests, but for the moment they were safe from retribution. Their father, his jacket and tie now off and his shirtsleeves rolled up, was sleeping off the couple of pints of beer he'd drunk at lunchtime, and their mother was peering short-sightedly at a story of an errant vicar and buxom barmaid in 'The News Of the World'. Nemesis, though, was nigh. Having had a rowdy tussle that had disintegrated a howling five-year-old's shell collection, they raced screeching to their home base. So eager was each to be first that they forgot to slow down and crashed through the windbreak, smashing a thermos flask and crushing the bananas Worse, they disturbed Mummy and Daddy. "What the hell?" demanded Dad as he awoke with a jerk. "Look what you've gone and done! Mum complained angrily. "Bloody, brats " "Clumsy kids " These parental criticisms were echoed and amplified all around. "Ruined our sandcastle !" "Soaked us with water !" "Tried to look at our Nancy changing, and she's fourteen !" "Knocked my little Gillian flat !" "Woke up my baby and I'd only just got him off !" Mum and Dad were already angry, but now they were livid with rage. If there is anything worse than your children misbehaving it is them misbehaving in public. "Right, you're for it!" declared Dad, and Mum grumbled her agreement as she grabbed for the nearer child who happened to be Trevor. This left Brenda to Dad and although she turned to run, he leapt from his deckchair with surprising speed and captured her. "Daddy! Nooo!" Brenda wailed in alarm as her father gripped her bare left arm while his other hand began to pull off the right shoulder strap of her swimming costume. "I'll give you 'No', my girl," raged her father and quickly let go of Brenda's arm so the he could pull the whole top of the swimming costume down to her belly button. "Oooh!" Brenda wailed again as her budding breasts were suddenly exposed to the interested spectators. Meanwhile, Mum had been even more briskly efficient as she simply yanked Trevor's swimming trunks right off . "Mum!" he squealed in horrified protest as his pale bottom and private parts were abruptly revealed to the enthusiastic onlookers. It is not a good idea to put a twelve-year-old child across your lap when you are sitting in a deckchair as the extra weight at the front unbalances the structure. This Mum now found out as the chair tipped forward, dumping Trevor in the sand and nearly sending Mum to join him. But she was quickly on her feet and ingeniously made better use of the deckchair by pushing the confused Trevor into the seat, but then grasping his ankles and tipping him right back so that his body weight stabilised the chair and she could spank him diaper style. This, of course, was even more humiliating for the boy than an over the knee spanking would have been as his bottom, balls, willy and face were all shown to the watching crowd. "Please, Daddy! Don't! Pleeease!" Brenda wailed. But Dad was in no mood to listen to the entreaties of his naughty daughter and continued hauling her swimming costume over her hips and down her legs till it tangled around her knees. Brenda tried to protect her modesty by putting one hand in front and the other behind, but Dad simply slapped away the hand shielding her groin Then, being a well-built man, he circled his left arm around her waist and lifted her in the air face down over his left hip and pulled her right hand away from her bottom. A roar of approving laughter from the rowdier element of the bystanders greeted the baring of the children's bodies. An even louder cheer went up when the parents began spanking the brats' bottoms. Mum's work-hardened hand cracked down hard in a fusillade of smacks on Trevor's pale-skinned bottom. The skin quickly turned a dark pink. Trevor yelled and clapped protecting palms to his hot cheeks. "Get them hands away!" Mum commanded. "Or I'll get Dad to give you a dose of his belt." Trevor instantly let go of his burning bottom. He'd felt Dad's belt quite a few times in his young life and was not eager to come into contact with it again. Mum straight away got back to work on his bottom. Trevor yelled and tried to squirm his vulnerable buttocks away from Mum's punishing hand, but he couldn't escape, trapped as he was on his back in the deckchair. He yelled louder and tried to kick his legs forwards to improve his balance, but Mum had a good grip on his ankles and her weight behind her and easily pushed back, forcing his knees to the canvas above his head. Now he was in an even worse position as the skin on his bottom tightened even more and his little bum hole was exposed. Mum really let herself go on Trevor's taut cheeks spanking them until they glowed. Trevor roared with anguish and tears streamed from his eyes and cascaded down either side of his red face. The vibrations from Mum's heavy- handed slaps coupled with Trevor's desperate struggles to avoid their full force made his cock and balls bounce and swing, much to the amusement of the growing crowd of onlookers, especially those who had themselves suffered from the pair's prying eyes. Brenda was suffering just as much as her brother. She seemed suspended in mid air as her father's brawny arm gripped her slender waist against his beefy hip. He was a meat porter at Smithfield Market and well used to heaving animals around. His broad right hand repeatedly smacked hard against Brenda's plump little bottom. The rhythm was slower than his wife's, but the smacks were harder. Brenda yelled just as loudly as Trevor and struggled just as wildly. With her legs still bound together by her swimming costume twisted around her knees, she could only sway her legs from side to side as she writhed with torment and wriggled to escape the power of the slaps. So, nude as she was, she gave the impression of a mermaid swimming through an invisible sea in a frantic effort to flee the predatory, punishing palm. Salt water there was in plenty though as tears gushed from the girl's eyes. Trevor's stretched bottom cheeks blazed a bright crimson and burned like a fiery furnace. Mum seemed satisfied with both the colour and temperature, but she did not relent. Instead she switched her attack to the back of Trevor's right thigh. She slapped over and over again between his knee and his inflamed bottom though being careful to avoid his jumping balls. Trevor howled wholeheartedly, not only from the pain, which was great, but from the knowledge that whatever his right leg got, his left leg would get the same. Dad was smacking Brenda's legs too at least, the very tops where the curve of her buttocks met the top of her thighs in a tender crease of skin. He knew from experience that spanking her here hurt a lot. And he was not as careful of his daughter's genitalia as his wife was being with their son's. So although the tight closeness of Brenda's restrained legs did protect her to some extent, she still felt the sharp penetrating sting as the force of the smacks scorched her most intimate area. Brenda bawled and begged him to stop. He took no notice. Mum was smacking up and down Trevor's left leg now, reddening it to match the blaze of colour on the right. Like his sister, Trevor was pleading for the punishment to stop, but neither parent was in the mood to let the kids off lightly and both kept slapping away at their respective child. Eventually, though, Mum did stop smacking Trevor, who jumped to his feet and hopped around on the sand clutching his super-heated bottom and thighs. Dad continued spanking Brenda for a short time longer and then released her by literally letting her go to drop on the beach where she lay howling face down on the sand, howling loudly and trying to soothe her burgundy buttocks. "That's enough of that racket," Dad eventually told the two children. "Brenda, take that swimsuit right off and then the both of you can run all the way up the beach to them steps, go on up to the prom, then right along to the next lot of steps over there, down, then and back along the beach to us. "Oh Daddy! No!" Brenda wailed in horror. "How many times have I told you about saying "No" to me, my girl?" demanded Dad. He grabbed hold of Brenda's tangled swimming costume and lifted it and her in the air. Brenda, now hanging upside down put out her hands to the sand to support herself, but the muscular man gripped the costume and shook. Brenda's weight obeyed gravity and she fell to the beach leaving her father holding the bathing suit. But he had not finished. He tossed it aside and grabbed hold of Brenda's legs as she sprawled on her back. In one swift movement he tipped her right back until her knees were between her ears. Her position was even worse than Trevor's had been in the deckchair. The young girl was shamefully exposed, but Dad didn't seem to care. He slapped her legs much as his wife had done Trevor's, though not for so long. Then he let the utterly nude girl up. "Right round," he reminded them, "and you'd better not dawdle or you'll really get it." "But make sure you don't disturb anyone," warned Mum, as the sobbing pair as they trotted off. At first the two children were followed by a trail of kids of all ages who jeered insults and catcalls at the pair. But this horrible horde caused even more devastation than Trevor and Brenda had and they were called back by angry parents, some of whom followed the example set and bared their own children's bottoms for a sound spanking though none as bad as Trevor's or Brenda's. The children loped on alone except, that is, for the few thousand people who shared the beach. As Trevor and Brenda ran diagonally up the sands towards the steps and away from where their parents had been sitting, they moved into new territory whose inhabitants knew nothing of the circumstances. Some of these strangers to the facts tut- tutted at the children's approach, considering them to be much too old to running around naked on the beach, but as the children passed and they saw the colour of their well- spanked bottoms, disapproval turned to admiration at their parents' good sense. The sand gave way to shingle and then lumpier stones that hurt the children's feet as they hobbled over them. They reached the steps and bounded up, their breath coming short with the effort, brushing past those holidaymakers coming down who turned to stare. At the top the pavement was roasting hot from the midday sun. The children tried to stay on their toes, skipping, to avoid burning their feet, which made them look even more ridiculous. A gaggle of courting teenagers saw them and gave mocking wolf whistles. Passing cars slowed down, better to see their nude bodies. Some derisively sounded their horns. The children's faces were red from heat, exertion and shame. They struggled on. Sweat sprang from every pore and trickled down their spines and into the cleft between their swollen buttocks making them sore and itchy as they rubbed together in time to the children's prancing pace. They came to the steps and started to descend. Trevor's little willy shook and swung uncomfortably as he pounded down. Brenda's newly-developing breasts bounced, and swayed bumpily as her feet beat on the wood. Those coming up stared in astonishment at the bare pair charging down wee cock rocking, tiny tits jigging. The children were back on the stones. They limped across the rocks and shuffled over the shingle. There were almost relieved when they were back on the sand, but this returned them to the multitude. Fingers were pointed, coarse comments made. They panted on, threading their way between the deckchairs, all too aware of the parents' contradictory instructions to hurry, but to be careful not to cause any disturbance. Their breath came short, they had stitch in their sides, their legs felt like lead, but they ran wearily on. In the distance they saw their goal and tried to sprint the run in. But as their chests heaved, their hearts sank. Dad had his broad leather belt doubled in his fist. While Trevor and Brenda were racing around their humiliating circuit, their father had been visited by even more angry neighbours, some demanding compensation for the damage his children had caused. They got short shrift Dad rarely put his hand in his pocket if he could help it but he angrily decided he would make his kids pay. So when Trevor and Brenda returned puffing and panting they found they were in yet more trouble. "Right," declared Dad while the children gasped for breath, "I've heard more than I want to learn about you two and I'm just about sick to the back teeth. So now your bums are going to get leathered understand?" Brenda opened her mouth to say, "Oh no, Daddy!" but remembered in time and they both nodded. "OK, you first Brenda. Bend over with your head in that deckchair and your hands gripping the frame at the back. Keep them legs straight! I'm going to give you six licks of the belt and if so much as a hair of your head leaves the canvas before I've finished you'll get extra right? "Right," Brenda acknowledged in a small breathless voice as she took up her demeaning position. She pressed her head as hard as she could against the sagging seat. The muscles in her straight legs, already stiff from running, stretched painfully. But next moment she forgot about that as Dad's belt lashed across her bottom leaving a broad dark band on the already rosy skin. She yelled, and kept on yelling for five more whacks. Then she was allowed up, howling loudly and doing another dance on the sand for the entertainment of any passers by. "Now you, Trevor," Dad said to his son who had watched Brenda's punishment with none of the pleasure he felt when he was in the clear. He was for it and no mistake! "Get bent over there same as your sister. Except you're going to get ten 'cause you're older, you're a boy and I reckon you got off lighter from Mum." Trevor's bottom belied this verdict, but the boy knew better than to argue and bent over. Ten times the leather cracked against his already inflamed cheeks and he was howling just as loudly as his sister almost from the start. Then he too was allowed to rise and hop around on the beach while his willy wagged like a little tail. It was a while before the children were allowed to get dressed neither could face their tight swimsuits and later still they packed up to go for their train. Both stood up all the way home.