(This story takes place in the same world as my first Thornbush Academy tale.
The taboo activities in this relatively short story include fathers seeing their daughters nude, spanking them nude, and some sexual touching.
All of the characters are eighteen or older.)
Laura Loomer was trying not to squirm as the graduation ceremony was about to begin. It was an unexpectedly cool June day, and she felt multiple breezes caressing her unwelcoming body parts under her much-too-thin graduation gown. Thank goodness, she thought, that her "L" last name placed her in the exact middle of the twenty-five girl pack this afternoon.
"Abigail Adams!" Laura tensed as she saw the pretty, tall and willowy blonde rise from the makeshift seat directly in front of her. It was starting. "And her father: John Adams!"
Poor Abigail turned to Laura briefly as she rose. "Who would've thought my 'A' name would make me the first sacrificial victim?!"
Laura smiled back at Abby's joke. She knew it was an attempt to cover the poor girl's understandably massive butterflies.
Laura watched the scene unfolding in front of her as if it was a play or a movie. Abigail stood dead center of the stage as the Dean also welcomed a handsome, dark-haired man in his mid-forties.
John whispered to the Dean and then took his daughter's hands in his. "Abby: were you a good girl during your two years at the Academy?"
Laura watched Abby respond as everyone knew she would: she blushed, she looked around for some support. Finally:
"Well, Dad, you know..."
The Dean whispered to John again. As the very first participant dad, he obviously needed encouragement and reminders of his rehearsed lines.
"Turn around from the audience young lady: we need to prepare you for your punishment!"
Abigail spun as commanded. She locked eyes with Laura. Laura liked the nineteen-year-old, but they were hardly best friends. Nevertheless, she couldn't look away.
John reached for the neck of his daughter's dark purple graduation gown. All that held it up were Velcro strips. He pulled her gown open at her neck. He tugged it over her bare shoulders. Finally he had to bend as he lowered the garment over his daughter's slender hips, leaving it pooled in a puddle at her feet.
Except for a tasteful necklace, a watch, two rings, and white open-toed high heels, Abigail Adams was totally nude.
Abby had barely any breasts to speak of: just two gently rounded circular mounds that were only indicated by a pair of light pink buttons that had hardly any aureola. Her tummy looked kissably soft--even to Laura. Just below, there were only faint wisps of the lightest hair in the familiar triangular shape around Abby's charmingly closed slit of a pussy.
"On the kneeler, young lady," John commanded, seemingly unaffected by his daughter's naked state. And it actually was a kneeler! It consisted of three carpeted steps, about three feet wide. Poor Abby knelt on the bottom step and rested her blushing head on the top--just like they had practiced during their dress rehearsal. Yes: oddly enough they were all fully dressed at that time.
Now that that sweet naked girl was on the kneeler, all Laura could see from her angle were the curves and lines of her body, from her back to her buttocks, from her legs to her high-heeled feet.
The Dean was whispering to Abby's dad; he then leaned over the podium, into his mike. "We've decided to give Miss Abigail only three slaps from the paddle... considering that she is our very first bravely nude grad!"
The Dean handed John a wooden paddle that looked like part of those paddle with elastic-attached ball sets. Except this paddle had Abby's full name and graduation year--what a souvenir to keep and display!
John had the decency to kneel down close and at least partially block his daughter's slim but curvy ass from most of the public view. Then he began to spank her.
"One!" the Dean cried out.
"Two!" and the audience was now gleefully joining in.
"Three!" and that was a bad one. All could hear poor Abby go "Ooof!" even up in the bleachers.
"Are you okay?" No lip reader present, but all clearly saw Daddy John leaning in, deeply concerned that he had swatted his naked daughter's bare derrière a trifle too hard.
Abigail stood up and her father handed her her gown as she shyly rubbed her bottom. She clutched the gown in front of her as she turned around. Her arm was across her breasts and the gown covered her to her knees. The girls had been told to keep their gowns off for some "tasteful group nudes" after the last girl got her scheduled spanking.
The Dean was beaming and openly checking Abigail out as he handed over her diploma (actually a certificate.) Abby nearly lost her death grip on her gown as she reached out and both males' eyes got very wide indeed as the audience collectively leaned forward.
Abby made her way back to her seat. "Yow!" she said to Laura as she sat back down. "Not designed for bare bottoms!"
"How was it?"
"Weird. Embarrassing but like it wasn't real. I mean... my father just stripped me naked and spanked my bottom in front of 113 people?!"
Laura leaned back as the next girl was called and the scene was repeated. This buxom brunette got seven ass-smacks for some strange reason.
Yes: Claymore Academy was an... interesting place...
It allegedly started during the Swinging Sixties. A male professor was called to task--and called in front of the Board--for having an affair with an eighteen-year-old female student.
The professor listened to the accusations, shaking his head. "It wasn't an affair: it was, and is, a series of lessons in the art of love."
To say the Board scoffed would be putting it mildly. He listened with arms folded.
"I have a character witness."
He stepped out briefly and walked back in--with the girl in question holding his hand. She had on a tight blue miniskirt and a tight white blouse that tied over her midriff and exposed her navel. The Board--four men and one woman--gaped at the curvy brunette's bared legs as she crossed them and swung her sandaled feet.
"Prof taught me five lessons in like six weeks. It's really not something I can explain--I think I have to show you." She stood up and untied and unbuttoned her blouse. Her skirt had one big blue button. Both garments were whisked off and she stood there topless in hot pink panties.
The Board was open-mouthed. She looked more like a doe-eyed Hollywood starlet than a student and that body probably evened out at 34C - 24 - 34.
She stepped up to one of the oldest members, a nearly-bald man in his late seventies. "I can leave my panties on or take them off." She shrugged at his sudden inability to speak and knelt down and undid his baggy trousers.
In about eight minutes, the elderly gentleman was deeply in love and ready to leave his wife of fifty-plus years. The final two Board members who were waiting their turns to sample her lessons had to find an office with a phone. They informed their families they would be "unaccountably late."
The Board quietly kept the professor on and told him to continue his good works. They also began quietly recruiting disgraced professors accused of "inappropriate relationships with female students." Many of these errant educators openly wept when they were told that they shouldn't just sleep with their female students--they were each expected to come up with a "unique sexual instruction plan."
