Hot Moons Beach

HOT MOONS BEACH

A Specialist Resort

There are beaches for collecting shells, others for building sandcastles and I know of a handful that are happy to accommodate nudity, but they’re not the ones I’m interested in visiting. I park my car down the street and walk the last mile because this exclusive cove is hidden behind a barrier and it’s members only. I’m so desperate to visit I steal my way in by pretending to be the trash collector.

“Where’s regular guy?” the bouncer at the entrance asks, chewing on his gum.

I hitch up my pants and slouch. “Off sick.” I lie and wave my litter picker at him—I bought it off eBay.

Lying comes easily. It’s something of a problem and I know I need a firm hand to bring it under control. I’ve spent too much time thinking about what I need and not enough time finding the solution.

I sidestep him, then walk around the beach huts, until the vast expanse of the private beach opens up. There are rows of sunbeds and shades stretching to the perimeter barrier—a high wooden fence. Many beds are occupied and there are couples or small groups of people reclining on them. There’s laughter and chatter amongst some, while others sunbathe or read.

I smell salty seaweed and smokey BBQs. Then I hear what is music to my ears.

“Why you naughty hussy, get your butt over here now and over my lap.” The man bellows across the sand to a young woman running in and out of the waves. She’s topless.

“No, please, sir,” she shrieks as he picks her up and tosses her over his shoulder.

I hold my breath, the garbage bag in one hand, the picker in the other. Will he really do it there in the middle of the beach?

No, he takes her into a chalet and slams the door shut.  I shuffle closer, my ear cocked to listen and after a few minutes of muffled talking, I hear the slaps and shrieks.

Not one person lying on the beach flinches or looks in the direction of the chalet. This is normal!

The Hot Moons beach is a sanctuary. Nobody gets in unless they sign up to the rules. The rules are simple. Naughty girls get spanked.

“You, girl,” a voice booms. I shrivel, slowly pivoting. “Yes, you. Get over here now!”

Everyone turns to look at me. I’m the centre of attention as two men stride toward me. One is the bouncer, the other is dressed casually in jeans and a shirt. From a distance I can just make out the big letters of the name on the badge—Guy.  It has to be the real garbage collector and he looks mad.

I drop everything and make a run for it, but they’re quicker. The bouncer grabs my arm and sweeps me into Guy’s firm grasp.

“You’re spying on us, aren’t you?” Guy has sparkling eyes and a frown. The two things don’t quite go together.

I nod. Why lie now? I’ve been caught. “I just wanted to see for myself.” I drop my chin and try to appear remorseful.

“If girls disobey here, they get spanked. Do you understand?” Guy tips up my chin. He’s not so frowny now.

“I guess I’m in trouble?” I ask. I chew on my lip and squish my legs together.

Guy marches me to a sunbed, sits on it and drags me over his lap. Down come my pants and panties and a blast of sea breeze shoots across my raised ass. I’m about to be spanked by the litter collector.

I wriggle, but say nothing. I’m so hot, yet at the same time, I’m covered in goose-bumps.

Without pausing, he spanks my bare butt at a ferocious pace; back and forth between the cheeks until they burn. I yelp and screech. Everyone is watching and whispering—I’ve an audience. My heartbeats pound behind my breasts and I claw at the towel on the bed. I’d not expected it to hurt so much.

I could scream at him to stop, but I don’t. Instead, I dig a deeper hole because I need this spanking so much. It’s my first one and it has to be mean, so mean that I won’t forget it for a long time.

“You’re just a jumped up garbage man,” I snap at him over my shoulder. “I should be spanked by a gentleman.”

His forehead furrows and his eyebrows form a long, dark line. I’ve done it now. “Up and over the end of the sunbed. You can find out what it means to be spanked. Here at Hot Moons, we take discipline seriously.”

I’m hoisted over the end of the upright sunbed until my face is buried in a towel left on the seat. I’m on tiptoes and my panties are stretched between my ankles. It’s so humiliating. Guy wallops my ass with a battery of slaps and I’m hopping about on my feet. Peering up, I’m met by countless eyes; the circle of observers has grown. Some women are even wincing along with my whimpers, while the men nod to each other as if to signify their satisfaction.

“Spying, lying, pretending be somebody else,” Guy lectured, punctuating his words with smacks. “You naughty, naughty girl.”

I’m finding that place now, the one where pain blurs into the background and I focus on his words.

“You’ll apologize. You’ll keep still and take your punishment like a good girl,” Guy speaks with a stern tone and it’s quite affecting. I cease wriggling and hold position, burrowing my feet into the sand, and grip the edge of the sunbed.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say with conviction. “I won’t lie. Ever. Again,” I stutter between ricocheting smacks. I’m speaking the truth. I’m so ashamed of my antics. Why couldn’t I be honest about what I wanted and spoken sensibly to somebody who could help instead of lying.

I wipe the tears off my eyes as he slows and instead of smacking, he rubs my blazing bottom.

“There,” he soothes. “You can stand up now.”

I haul up my pants, trying to hide my red bottom. I sniff. “Thank you. Sir.” I add.

A man steps forward from the crowd. He’s beaming from ear to ear and seems pleased, actually delighted by my spanking. “Welcome. Would you be interested in membership?” he asks.

I smile. “Yes, please.”

Guy dusts the sand off his pants. “I’ll sponsor her, Greg. She can join with me.”

“You’re the janitor,” I point out, amazed.

“No. I’m Guy. I manage security.” He taps his badge.

I squint, leaning forward. Sure enough, under is name is his title—head of security.

“But… I thought you were… the janitor guy,” I stumble over my words.

“A guy comes to clean, yes.” Guy is grinning at my misunderstanding.

“Oh,” I say softly. “Then, please would you sponsor me?”

I’m so excited, I’ve forgotten that his broad hand had just roasted my poor behind. From under my fluttering eyelashes, I note other things: muscular arms, tattoos below his open collar, dark hair that sways in the breeze and thin, neat lips. Kissable lips. I’m blushing, I know it.

Guy takes my trembling hand. “Let’s go do the paper work.” He leads me away from the crowd, which is starting to disperse. “You will have to consent to the rules. And that means any bad behaviour will send you over my knee again.”

I clear my dry throat. “Just your lap?”

He squeezes my hand. “Oh, I can assure you, it will be just mine, young lady.”

“I’m Daphne.”

“Daphne.” He kisses my knuckle, like a gentleman. “Welcome to Hot Moons.”