Chapter 4.1: Amanda's Sweet 16

“Mom told me to give you this,” Jessica said dejectedly, handing me a heavy linen envelope. She walked away without another word.

Flowing calligraphy marked the back ‘J. Carter Rutherford’, so it was clearly for me.

Inside was an card of heavy ivory paper. ‘Amanda Coffee cordially invites you to commemorate her sixteenth birthday on Thursday... ‘

I couldn’t quite place the name, though it sounded very familiar. Maybe a girl from school? But I wasn’t friends with anyone that age, and, anyway, all my friends would have texted me.

“Did you get Mandy’s invitation?” Dad asked over dinner. It was just the two of us for the first time in a few days, since Catherine and her daughters were all out on a girls’ night.

“You know about that?” I responded. “Who is she? I tried to look her up, but she doesn’t seem to have any social media.”

“Mmm. You’ve probably seen her around school. Her parents are, ah, ‘friends’ of mine. She and Jessie have been spending some time together, since she’ll be starting at Alphonse this fall.”

“Ah, so she was moping over having me come along.”

“Not quite,” Dad corrected. “She’s not invited, and is pretty upset about it. Or rather, she was invited, and I won’t let her go.”

“I see...” I was perplexed, though.

“Well, it’s not going to be the kind of party that she would enjoy,” he explained. “Not that she knows that, though. Her own sixteenth is coming up, and there are some things that we want to keep as a surprise. She’s quite a bit more innocent than most of the girls who will be there.”

“Honestly, I don’t think it’s the kind of party that I would enjoy much, either,” I mused.

“I assure you that you would enjoy it. You should go.”

That was all he would say on the matter, and the conversation drifted.

“You must be Carter!” The woman who answered the door, a very leggy blonde in her thirties, wore a short, form-fitting black dress with a plunging neckline. “You look so much like your father!”

“Mrs. Coffee?” I asked tentatively.

“Please, call me Felicia,” she said, smiling stunningly and ushering me into the house. “Thank you so much for coming on such short notice. I’d wanted to invite you from the beginning, of course, but your father said you weren’t ready. As soon as he changed his mind, I had to have you here. Of course, Mandy will be thrilled to see you. Do you need a mask before you meet the birthday girl?”

“A mask,” I said, a bit lamely, not quite knowing what to make of anything she said. The entryway table had several neat rows of zorro-style face coverings.

“For the cameras, you know. They’ll be filming whenever Mandy is in the room, and perhaps some of the other activities. Our distribution is quite secure, of course, but some of us prefer not to risk it. But surely William filled you in?”

“It’s a surprise. You’ll like it. Trust me.”

Felicia laughed throatily at my imitation of my father’s smooth, deep voice.

“He would, wouldn’t he?” She grasped my upper arm with both hands, almost flirtatiously. “Oh, but that means I get to tell you! Better yet, show you! This will be delicious! Here, take a mask, then. Put it on for now, and if you get more comfortable, you can take it off whenever you like. Or keep it on. I like the mask-and-nothing-else look.”

I smiled back, picking up a mask and slipping it on; it was surprisingly comfortable.

“Lead on, then,” I said theatrically. The gorgeous woman’s enthusiastically animated mannerisms were catchy.

“Oh, I have an idea! Would you mind if we filmed the tour? It would make a wonderful introduction video!”

“Yes. No. I mean, I don’t mind.” Despite her putting me at ease initially, the thought of a camera was a bit off-putting, and I had no idea what it was that they were filming.

“Wonderful! Come along then!”

Around the corner, a lovely brown-haired girl was standing, hands clasped in front of her, clearly waiting to greet guests. There was a cameraman there as well, with a large, expensive-looking steady-cam rig.

“Mandy, this is Carter,” Mrs. Coffee introduced.

“Thank you for coming, Carter,” she said graciously. If the introduction had not served to indicate that she was the event’s honoree, her pageant sash proclaiming, in sequined pink letters, ‘Sweet Sixteen’ and her equally glittery party hat certainly would have done the trick. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She wore the sash over a dark blue high-waisted dress with a boat neck and pleated circle skirt. The skirt was shorter than it seemed at first glance, but it was only because the dress’ waist was so high--just below her full bust--the hem was above her fingertips. The height of her strappy gold high heels accented her long, slim legs amazingly.

“It’s wonderful to meet you as well, Amanda,” I replied formally. “Thank you so much for the invitation.

She ignored my proffered hand, stepping up to hug me. She pressed her entire body firmly against mine, placing a hand on the small of my back to pull me tighter. As the hug stretched a few moments, she wiggled her pelvis, and I felt myself swiftly responding.

“Wonderful,” her mother bubbled, as Amanda stepped back, looking down and blushing. “Now give the girl a birthday spank, and I’ll show you around the rest of the party.”

At that, Amanda turned around, leaned forwards, and flipped up her skirt to reveal her firm bottom. Her baby blue lace tanga almost entirely disappeared between her cheeks, revealing that she had already recieved several such spanks, as her round bottom was a lovely pink, a striking contrast with her pale thighs.

I hesitated, unsure of what to do.

“Don’t worry,” her mother assured me. “You’ll get a chance later to give her the full sixteen, if you like. This is just a little introduction. Give her a good one!”

Smiling, I took a swing at the generously offered tush, connecting firmly with the redder of the two globes.

“Thank you, Carter,” she said tightly.

“It’s a lovely ass, isn’t it?” Felicia purred, taking my hand and placing it on the teenager’s bottom. “And it’s so hot already! Imagine after sixteen more ... maybe with a belt? And by the end of the party...”

She shivered, squeezing my hand between hers and her daughter’s bottom. I did imagine, and felt my pants get a little tighter.

“Mmm. Now, let’s show you around.” She moved her hand off mine, and stood back.

I let my hand linger a moment longer. When I drew it back, Amanda dropped her skirt, turning again to face me. She gave me a sweet, almost sad little smile.

“Now, Carter was the last guest to arrive, so Jeremy, come with us and film the introductions, would you? Mandy, you can go freshen up before you join the party.”

“I’m sorry,” I offered. “Was I late? I didn’t mean to be.”

“No, no, not at all. You’re right on time,” Mrs. Coffee assured me. “It’s just that all of our ‘friends’ tends to be a little early; no one wants to miss a moment of the action. And someone needs to be last; that’s simple logic.”

My father had often put the same slight emphasis on ‘friends’ recently.

“I shall endeavor to do the same in the future, and make someone else arrive last.”

Felicia giggled at my mock formality, taking my hand and leading me into the party.

The crowd of about 30 people was not at all what I had expected at a Sweet Sixteen. There were half a dozen or so teenage girls in party dresses, but they were slightly outnumbered by the boys my age--I recognized a few of them, members of the lacrosse and football teams, in standard preppy country club attire of khakis and short-sleeved button-ups. There were more adults than I would have thought, too: six or eight middle-aged men, wearing business suits, and 3 women in their thirties in seriously slinky cocktail dresses. About a third of the adults were wearing masks like mine, though none of the other highschoolers were.

The really remarkable part was the ... waitresses? There were six or eight girls wearing high heels, tuxedo-style cuffs and collars (complete with bow ties!), and little else. They each wore an accessory--nipple clamps, a leash, a gag ... one wore bunny ears and a fluffy white tail that could only have been held in place by a butt plug.

The two other cameramen and studio lights barely registered in comparison.

“Everyone, this is Carter,” Felicia announced to the room. Everyone looked over for a moment, and there were a few friendly waves. “Carter, everyone. I’ll make specific introductions later, but the entertainment will start soon. There’s barely time to show you around first.”

A tiny, red-headed waitress decorated with alligator nipple clamps with a delicate silver chain between them, who couldn’t have been more than fourteen--certainly the youngest of the girls here--silently appeared with a bottle of my favorite beer, which I accepted. Her hair, including her eyebrows, was a bold copper color, pulled up into a loose bun with a few escaping strands. Her skin was pale and creamy, unblemished even by freckles. Even in her very tall heels, she was at least a foot shorter than me.

“This is Fiona,” my guide said, grabbing the chain that connected the petite girl’s nipples and tugging firmly to elicit a whimper. “You really should try her ass some time. She’s new, still, so it’s wonderfully tight, and she cries so enticingly when you ram it in.”

The look of resignation in her grey eyes suggested that Felicia was correct. She bit her lower lip, giving a pleading look.

“That sounds fantastic,” I said.

“It is. It really is,” she purred, giving the chain another tug before slapping the girl’s skinny ass to dismiss her. “And of course, she, and all the other slaves, are always fully available for your use.”

I didn’t need to ask which ones the slaves were.

Felicia took my hand again, and I followed her as we threaded through a corner of the crowd to another arched doorway. A hallway ran in each direction, and straight ahead was a set of glass french doors that stood open to a dense, lush garden.

“The guest rooms are down this hall,” she said, pointing left. “Feel free to make use of them if you prefer privacy for any ... dalliances. You’ll find everything you need there, but no cameras, no crowd, no pressure. Well, maybe a little pressure; I do hope you will avail yourself of the amenities today. It’s all here for our pleasure.

“If you would like fresh air, the garden is outside; there is a jacuzzi inside the hedge. And this way...” she pulled me along to the right, past two slightly ajar doors. “Bathrooms here, and in the guest rooms, and this is the library.”

A massive wooden door opened into the most opulent library I’d ever seen outside of Paris. Shelves two stories high circled most of the heyhole-shaped room, with a spiral staircase running to a catwalk halfway up. A massive fireplace dominated the wall to the left, with a circle of overstuffed leather armchairs in front of it. A few other chairs and loveseats dotted the massive room, some in front of or around tables.

“Later on, there will be cigars and whiskey here, if you’re inclined. And the entertainment caters to more ... esoteric tastes.”

Intrigued, I decided immediately to at least see what might happen here.

“Now,” she said, leading me back out towards the party, “tradition dictates that since this is your first time at one of our gatherings, you may jump any of the queues that we establish. If you’d like to do that, just let me know, because I’ll be drawing the names anyway.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, feeling a bit lame. “I think I might be out of my element.”

“Don’t worry, dear, you’ll fit right in.” She giggled at that, like it was a joke that I didn’t get yet.

As we entered the main room again, the atmosphere seemed more tense.

Mrs. Coffee snagged a passing waitress, the one with bunny ears and tail, pushing her against me.

“Unfortunately, my duties as hostess call, but Brittany can keep you company for now. Just one last thing ... I’m sure I don’t need to explain why, but there is absolutely no private pictures or video.” She disappeared, leaving me with the chesty young blonde.

“I’m Carter,” I said, nothing else coming to mind.

“This slut is named Brittany,” she said, forcing a smile.

“That’s a pretty name,” I offered after an uncomfortably long pause.

“Thank you, master,” she replied.

She was a very attractive girl of about sixteen. Slim, but with very developing curves. Her hair was shoulder-length in loose blonde ringlets.

Tentatively, I slipped an arm around her waist, and she responded by rubbing her very naked body against me. Slowly, I slid my hand down, waiting to see if she stopped me. She didn’t, and my hand settled on her soft, round ass, fingertips brushing against her fluffy tail.

I gave her firm ass a squeeze, and she sighed, settling her body against mine. Almost of their own volition, my fingers slid deeper, until they touched the metal plug nestled between the plump cheeks.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mrs. Coffee sudenly announced from the other side of the room, “the birthday girl!”

Amanda entered to a round of applause with a nervous, almost terrified expression. Her mother shepherded her to the middle of the room, which had gone entirely silent.

“It’s time for the birthday spanking!” She was interrupted by another round of applause, but gestured for silence. “I’m so glad that you could all join us to celebrate Mandy’s sixteenth birthday, but there are so many of us and only one of her!”

Polite laughter filled the room.

“I’m afraid that means that not everyone will be able to give her a birthday spanking. Only ten ‘friends’ will be chosen to participate.”

There was a chorus of disappointed moans. I thought ten was an odd number, since she was turning 16.

“I know, I know, but there are more than twenty five of us celebrating her birthday! If if she got over four hundred swats, she’d turn into a pile of quivering jelly! Don’t worry, though! Everyone will get a chance to help make her sweet sixteen very memorable!”

That announcement was met with cheering and a few catcalls, leaving the pretty girl even more scared looking. It also indicated, if my quick math was right, that she would be getting her sixteen birthday spanks from each participant.

“And the lucky first is...” She dramatically reached into an absurd stovepipe hat that Fiona held. “J.D.!”

“Yeah!” One of the jocks yelled and pumped a fist in the air, stepping forward.

“Now, J.D., I know you must be excited to help Mandy celebrate,” she said, taking him by the elbow, “so I hope you will give her a proper introduction to the party. I’m afraid, though, that being first, you must also be the most traditional.”

At a gesture from the tall blonde, a busty black slave girl with an unruly mane of curls appeared, carrying a large, wooden paddle and ceremoniously handed it to the athlete. It occured to me that he was a football player from school, though I didn’t really know him.

“Photos, please!” Called an elderly man from the couch in the back corner. He was one of the few in masks, and he had a ball gagged slave kneeling between his knees. His hand gripped her short, blonde pony tail, and he was pressing the side of her face against his crotch. “I need this one for my album!”

“My pleasure, your honor,” Felicia answered, guiding her daughter to stand next to the jock with the paddle. “Smile!”

A photographer stepped forward to capture the moment as Mandy smiled stunningly and J.D. brandished the frat-style paddle. The camera clicked and whirred.

After several shots, Mrs. Coffee turned Amanda around, posing her slightly bent over. J.D. placed the paddle against her bottom, but Felicia had him flip it over, to reveal that the other side had ‘Happy Birthday’ painted in sparkly pink cursive, outlined in silver sparkles.

Their final pose was the same, except that Amanda was instructed to flip her skirt up and look back to smile at the camera. Her smile now appeared forced and scared, but was absolutely no less sexy for it.

“Wonderful!” Felicia exclaimed, after the photographer snagged a few more shots. “Now, I did say traditional, and, as we all know, that means on the bare! J.D., if you would do the honors?”

Grinning, he handed the paddle back to the naked black girl, kneeling in front of Amanda as her mother turned her back to face most of the audience, though it was a side view from my perspective. He lifted the front of her skirt up, placing it over his head. The audience cheered and catcalled, encouraging him to slowly pull her light blue panties all the way down to her ankles.

Amanda stepped out of the flimsy lace, and J.D. stood, waving the panties around before offering them back to Mrs. Coffee.

“Please, keep them,” she laughed, tucking them into his hand.

With a dirty smile, the jock tucked them into the pocket of his khaki pants.

“And now, assume the position!” Raucous cheering greeted the pronouncement, and Amanda leaned forward, again flipping her skirt onto her back to bare her bottom. I was glad of my position away from the main audience, as it gave me a better view of her coltish legs and tight posterior.

J.D. reclaimed his paddle and positioned himself.

“Alright, Mandy, count them off,” her mother instructed. “J.D., take it away!”

There was another quick round of cheering and applause, which the jock acknowledged with a quick wave before delivering a heavy, two-handed blow of the paddle to the sixteen-year-old’s tight bottom.

“One,” she choked out to the suddenly silent room.

Crack!

“Two!”

After the third swat, Amanda began softly crying. At first, she regained her composure in the short pause between each stroke. By the tenth, she was sobbing constantly.

Crack!

“Aaaah! Fifteen!” Mandy screamed, as the young man punishing her ass swung even harder.

Crack!

The final stroke was almost painfully loud, and the birthday girl wailed in pain before shouting “Sixteen!” to a round of applause.

“Bravo, J.D... Brah-vo.” Mrs. Coffee enthusiastically clapped him on the shoulder, then placed her other hand on her daughter’s bare shoulder and pulled her upright, her dress falling back to cover her bare, red bottom. “Mandy, thank J.D. for helping you celebrate.”

Hesitantly, she stepped forwards and hugged the football player, pressing her whole body against him like she had greeting me, but I hadn’t got the firm, open-mouth kissed that he recieved.

He didn’t hug her back, though. Instead, he grabbed her bottom with both hands, almost picking her up as he pulled her crotch against his.

“Wonderful! Now some after pics to match the before?” Felicia gestured at the photographer again, and guided the teens through the same poses as before, though this time Amanda’s smile was teary, red-eyed, and false. It was even sexier.

The hostess snapped her fingers, and two black waitesses entered carrying a table between them. One was the same girl who had brought the paddle, and the other was a younger, less chesty copy. They could only have been sisters. Fiona followed closely behind with the top hat.

The dark girls placed the table, which was filled with paddles, crops, canes, and rulers, next to the birthday girl, who looked at it in horror, while the red-head presented the hat again to Felicia. J.D. placed the paddle on the table and grabbed the bustier of the two sisters by the arm, pulling her towards the bedrooms in the back.

Mrs. Coffee reached into the hat again, and drew out a slip of paper with a flourish. “Doctor Gregory!”

A silver-haired man in his fifties stood and moved forwards; I recognized him instantly as our family’s practicioner. I had never seen him out of his office. He winked at me as he walked up to the center of the room.

“Any guidelines?” he asked, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to the younger of the two black girls.

“It’s a party, Doctor,” Mrs. Coffee stated. “Have fun.”

“Thank you, Felicia, I will,” he said with a cruel smile. “Hello, Amanda. How are you feeling today?”

“Well, thank you, Doctor Gregory,” she said, fearfully.

“Hmm,” he said, pensively, looking at the table of implements. “Let’s see if we can’t remedy that, then.”

He picked up the paddle that J.D. had placed there, and turned to the birthday girl.

“Let’s start with something traditional, shall we?”

Grabbing her by the shoulder, he spun her around to face away from the audience, then pushed her over.

“Grab your ankles,” he snapped, flipping her skirt over. Her sash fell to the floor.

Now I regretted my location, as all I could see from this angle was her waist and the very top of her ass--both her face and her naughty bits were hidden from sight.

I started to take a drink of my beer, but it was inexplicably empty. I honestly didn’t remember taking a single sip.

The blonde under my arm noticed as well. “May I get you another, sir?”

“Uh, yes, please,” I said, and she scampered off, as the doctor began methodically swatting Amanda’s ass.

I considered moving to the front of the room, but all the good seats had been taken, and I thought it rude to stand in front of someone. More reason to arrive early to future parties, I decided.

Brittany returned almost immediately with a fresh, cold beer, and I took a deep drink as she snuggled up against me again.

Taking Mrs. Coffee at her word, I began casually exploring the naked blonde’s body with my free hand, while the birthday girl counted out the swats she was recieving. I kneaded her plump bottom, pressing my fingers deep into her crack. I toyed with the costume tail, then leaned down slightly to get a better angle as I probed down underneath it.

The naked teenager practically purred when I touched her lips, which were already hot and wet.

“Tradition is all well and good,” the doctor said, once Amanda had counted her eighth spank, “but let’s move on, shall we? Stand up.”

I moved my hand back up to the blonde’s ass as I straightened to look, and she responded with a disappointed little noise.

Amanda stood, and her hair fell perfectly back into place, as did her dress.

“Wait,” her mother interrupted, picking up her sash from the floor. “Let’s put this back on, shall we? We wouldn’t want anyone to forget why we’re celebrating!”

“Good idea,” Dr. Gregory agreed.

Felicia lovingly draped the sash over Amanda’s shoulder again, while the doctor unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled back his shirtsleeves to his elbow, revealing much more muscular forearms than I would have expected on a man his age.

“Now, let’s get this out of the way,” he said, reaching behind Amanda’s shoulders. He quickly unzipped the dark blue dress, and she submissively let it fall. It slid slowly down her body, revealing a baby blue strapless push-up bra that matched to panties now in J.D.’s pocket and a smooth, creamy belly before hanging up at her hips.

“Good enough,” he murmurred, picking up a leather whip with thin, knotted rawhide tails. He swished it menacingly through the air. “Move your hair out of the way, would you, dear?”

Seeing the trepidation on Amanda’s face was enough to end my regret at my location, as the majority of the crowd missed out on the emotion in her reddened, damp doe eyes.

“Nine?” He asked, not waiting for a response before swinging the lash down across her bare shoulders.

“Ni-ayn!” Amanda choked out, her pretty, elfin features scrunched up in pain.

My attention was now firmly fixed on the show, as she counted out the strokes that worked their way down her back. Each blow elicited a wail of pain before she cried out the count.

The thirteenth blow must have reached the protection of the dress hanging around her waist, because Dr. Gregory paused to give the dress a gentle tug, letting it fall to pool around her feet before continuing.

Her mons, freshly revealed to me, was nearly entirely bare, save for a delicate, heart shaped patch of pubic hair. Her slim legs, though her knees were together, left a tanalizing gap between the tops of her thighs, and I could just barely see the lips of her sex.

The last three blows landed in a flurry, not even leaving her time to count them out.

“Sixteen!” Mrs. Coffee shouted happily. “Give the nice doctor a hug, sweetie!”

With a sob, the teenager turned around, stepped out of her dress, and pressed her body against the much older man’s, kissing him with an open mouth. He also grabbed her delicious, bare ass with both hands, lifting her very tall heels off the floor to grind himself against her.

Her back was now almost uniformly red from the nape of her neck to the very tops of her thighs, broken only by the blue lace of her bra and the white sash with its sequined pink border.

Dr. Gregory went straight back to his seat, after giving her one last bare-handed tap on her ass, as Mrs. Coffee reached dramatically into the hat again. The younger of the two black girls picked up Amanda’s dress and took it away.

“Oh, I hoped for this,” she announced to the lecherous crowd. “I’m sure many of you have noticed the newbie in our midst. Carter Rutherford is next!”

Shocked and thrilled, I downed my entire beer in one go, both stalling and fortifying myself, as nearly everyone clapped politely.

Nervously, I handed the empty bottle to the bunny girl and made my way to the center of the room.

Felicia gave me a quick hug and whispered in my ear.

“Relax. Just pick something and hit her wherever you want.”

“Her tits?” I asked, hopefully.

“Of course,” she crudely hissed. “Sixteen right on her firm teenage funbags!”

With a silly grin, I turned to my step-sister’s friend.

“Let’s have that bra off, then?” I asked loudly.

Cheering and applause erupted as I picked up a thin, short cane.

Unhappily, Amanda reached between her breasts to unhook the lacy blue band, slowly and reluctantly revealing her full, firm breasts to the appreciative crowd. The lovely mounds seemed to defy gravity and physics as they popped free of their constraints, though one was covered by her sash. Thick, pink nipples were surrounded by tiny, crinkled aeraola.

“How perfect,” her mother crowed. “The birthday girl in her birthday suit! Isn’t Mandy so pretty?”

“Oh, yes,” I agreed hungrily, as did the audience. “But I need both of those wonderful tits, if I’m to do this properly. Hold them up for me, please.”

Amanda obediently lifted her tits for me, and her mother helped by pulling her sash around behind her, placing it like a tall collar around her neck and a cape dangling behind her.

“Your hands might get in the way, there,” I suggested. “I’m going to want to hit your nipples, too.”

With a pleading, tearfull look, she adjusted her grip, pushing her breasts even higher for me. Unfortunately for her, her terrified expression inflamed me further, and I immediately struck the proffered mounds right below her erect, pink nipples.

“One!” she cried in pain.

Another stroke, digging deeply into the soft flesh just above her nubs.

“Two!” A trickle of tears, which she had valiantly contained until now, fell from the corner of one eye.

I waited until she looked at me, locking eyes with the hapless girl before the next blow, exactly on the same spot as the last.

“Three-ee-ee!” She wailed.

The way she lifted her breasts created a peak that was almost irresistable, a lovely arch near the top. Actually, not almost. I slashed the cane straight down across the tops, and she moaned in pain.

“Four!”

I delivered three more as quickly and accurately as I could, driving the cane as far into her pert globes as I could.

“Fi-si-se-eh-eh-ven,” she wailed.

“The bottoms, now,” I instructed, as tears rolled freely down her face. “Lift them by the nipples.”

She winced as she firmly pinched the taut nubs, pulling up to expose the pale undersides of her soft tits for me to torment.

My next few swings were almost gentle in comparison, though I only held back on the swing in order to achieve more accuracy as I striped the pale flesh, starting at the very base and working my way up.

“Ayyyyt! Nay-ay-ayn!” She bawled as I beat her sensitive mounds. “Ten! Eleh-ven! Twe-eh-thir-ir-four-or-ortee-fi-fih-iftee-ee-een!”

“Good girl!” I encouraged, patting her bare bottom. “Just one more. But this is on your nipples, so I need you to put your hands behind your head and push them right out for me.”

I leaned in close, smelling her sweat with a hint of floral soap.

“I’ll go gentle with this one,” I lied. “I just need to make it look good.”

She smiled tentatively, through her tears, pulling her shoulders back as she laced her fingers at the nape of her neck.

I placed the cane across her nipples, tweaking them up and down in preparation. They hardened deliciously in an involuntary response.