Bare Bottom Birthday Spankings

Bare Bottom Birthday Spankings

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This might sound like a strange custom, but in my family it had been standard practice for as long as I can remember. In fact, for many years I believed every family did this.
I am talking about our tradition of birthday-spankings.
Every year, on your birthday, you would get spanked by your family-members. For me, this meant my father, my mother, my little sister and my little brother. In return, I was allowed to spank them on their birthdays, even my parents.

This was not just an empty ritual. Your spanking was supposed to erase all the bad or naughty things you had done during the past year and allow you to celebrate your birthday and start a new year with a clean slate. We were not allowed to be angry at each-other for things that had happened before our birthdays.
My parents theory was that the older you got, the more trouble you got in, so the longer your birthday-spanking should last. You would thus get one smack for each year old you became from each member of our family.
I remember how at first, I thought those spankings were fun. I loved smacking my mother or father on their bare bum, or punishing my siblings for the toys they had taken from me in the weeks before their birthday. When it was my turn, the spankings never hurt, it was more roleplaying than actual spanking.
This was of course heightened by the fact that my parents never actually used spanking as discipline during the year. It was only part of your birthday and secretly something to look forward too.
When I became a teenager and the amount of smacks I’d receive went over fifty or more, my feelings about this tradition began to change. I became embarrassed to be spanked by my younger siblings, especially my brother now that I was turning into a young woman. I was also going through puberty and got into trouble a lot more than I used to. The smacks from my father and my mother were no longer just playful, but could leave a real sting and red skin behind.
As I grew past puberty, it was no longer my younger brother’s spanking that embarrassed me most, but those by my father. I had also grown to like those spankings in a different way, they aroused me, turned me on in an inappropriate way.
It wasn’t just my own spankings that bothered me. I still liked spanking my siblings and even my mother on their birthdays, but when my father was across my lap, I could feel his erection and knew he was aroused to be spanked by me. Later, during my own birthday, I could feel that same arousal when I was across his lap.
The story I wanted to tell was that of my eighteenth birthday. We were all gathered in our living-room for our birthday-ritual. I’d be getting my birthday-spankings before I was allowed to open any presents.
It was the birthday-girls privilege to choose who got to spank her first. Because this person was also the one who got to bare your bottom, I chose my little sister.
She was sitting beside my father in the large sofa and as I placed myself across her lap, my head rested nearly in my father’s lap. The position made me blush, as my little sister raised my skirt and pulled down my panties to bare my bottom.
Growing older, I had questioned why these birthday spankings should be done on a bared bottom. My parents had told me being bared was symbolic for stopping all deceit and confessing all lies. You could only get a clean slate if you had no more naughty secrets to keep.
I tried to tell myself this, but no matter how hard I tried, I still felt embarrassed for having them see my naked bottom.
This was the moment I should confess to my little sister if I had kept any more secrets from her, but I could not think of any.
“Eighteen then?” She said.
My father nodded and the first part of my spanking started.
My sister didn’t spank hard and the eighteen smacks were over quickly. We were close and barely ever fought.
When I got up from her lap, I had to choose who was next. Normally I’d choose my mother, but I believed she might spank me harder since I’d been lax with my chores the last few weeks. I chose my brother instead.
My panties dropped to the floor as I got off my sister’s lap and made my way to my brother who was in the arm-chair. At least my skirt fell down as well to protect my modesty.
Across my brother’s lap I received another eighteen smacks. I wonder how he felt about all of this. He was just hitting puberty and getting interested in girls. What did he think of his older sister’s naked backside?
I would always choose my father last, too embarrassed to go over his lap by the arousal I’d feel both from him and myself. So my mother was next.
I was right when I’d thought she’d be strict with me. Those eighteen smacks were firm and hard, I even squealed at a few. My bottom was a blushing shade of pink as I made my way to my father.
Across his lap, I could feel that unexplained arousal take hold of me. He placed his hand on my bared bottom, it was quite warm.
“Wait.” I said, I still had a confession to make.
My father stopped, leaving his hand in its place. I could feel his excitement pressing against my hips.
“Last week, you told me to take out the thrash; but I forgot. I didn’t want you to know, so I dumped by the side of the road a few streets from here.”
Everyone was silent and I was blushing. It wasn’t abnormal to make a confession during your birthday spanking. In fact, it rarely happened that there were no confessions, because this was the only time you could confess without risking an extra punishment or even a scolding.
Still, the eighteen smacks from my father’s hand felt extra hard that year, sending a hot burning sensation through my behind.
When I got up and pulled on my panties, everyone was smiling and happy. I felt great, despite the embarrassment and arousal, it felt good having a clean slate.
My mother left us to see to the cake she was baking and my brother and sister went off to play until it was done. My father patted his lap.
“Come here, birthday-girl.” He said.
I sat down on his knee, the sting in my bottom was nearly gone, but I was afraid I’d feel his erection again if I moved into his lap any further.
“Are you angry about the thrash, daddy?” I asked him.
“Of course not, baby. You know that after your birthday spanking all is forgiven.” He said.
I blushed, but didn’t know whether it was from relief or the excitement I had felt.
“Why don’t you never spank us when it’s not our birthday?” I asked him, genuinely curious.
“We never felt it was necessary, isn’t once a year enough?” He asked in return.
I blushed, of course it was, I wasn’t looking for more of those embarrassing moments. “Yes, I was just thinking, sometimes it’s a long time to wait to be forgiven for something.”
“Most of the thing you need forgiveness for were long forgiven before your birthday sweety. You don’t think we’d hold a grudge for a year, do you?” My father asked.
“Of course not.” I replied. “It just feels different.”
“Daddy thinks you’re just saying that because you like getting spanked a bit too much.” He replied. I suddenly noticed he was rubbing the inside of my thigh beneath my skirt.
I moved over on his lap so he could no longer touch me there, but this placed me right on top of his crotch. I could feel his erection firmly between my buttocks.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed honey, your mother is just the same. In fact, when it’s her birthday, she gets an extra spanking when the three of you are asleep. Something more serious than the 40-or-so smacks for her years.” My father told me.
“Really?” I asked, even more aroused to find out my father spanked my mother in private.
“Yes really, and not just on her birthday, she gets them throughout the whole year, every time she is naughty.” He said.
My heart was racing and I felt myself pushing down onto my father’s cock. I could not explain why this excited me so much.
“What about you, does mom spank you too?” I asked.
“No.” My father said. “In fact, I only let you and her spank me on my birthday because you would all think it’s unfair otherwise. For those other spankings however, there needs to be one person in charge, one who decides what’s good or bad and when someone needs a spanking.”
I nodded, it made sense to have one person in control.
“So what do you think. Would you like to get an extra spanking as well?” He asked.
I was blushing. Somehow his hand had made its way in between my legs again, stroking my thighs.
“Yes, please.” I said.
My father let me off his lap then and got up, disappearing into the kitchen. I did not hear what he said, but when he returned, he told me: “Your mother is going to the store to buy a cake, the one she was making didn’t turn out well.”
I always wondered what he’d told her. Did she know what he was planning, or had he somehow misled her?
He then called my brother and sister down. “Go with your mother to the store, help her pick out the perfect cake for your sister.”
It surprised me at the time that no-one found it odd that he was sending them along. But why would they be suspicious? They could have no way of knowing why my father wanted to be alone with me.
As soon as they all left, my father returned to the sofa. “Come here, young lady.” He said.
I moved closer, nervous and excited at the same time.
My father took my arm and guided me across his lap, just like earlier.
“For too long have you lived under my roof and gotten away with your behavior. It was time you learned what proper discipline is.” He said.
I was blushing deeply, but could not hide my excitement as he raised my skirt and lowered my panties. I could feel his arousal as well, beneath my hips.
The first smack on my bottom was hard and I moaned loudly. He spanked me harder than when I had gotten my birthday-spanking and I quickly realized how much a real spanking could hurt. This time there were no little brother or sister watching, so he did not have to hold back.
I squealed and moaned and the third time I reached eighteen, I stopped counting. My bottom was burning, but my pussy was equally hot, so aroused was I by this punishment.
My father enjoyed spanking me. My bottom bounced beneath his hand and he grunted softly when I moaned or flashed my wet pussy every time I kicked my legs.
“Please, daddy.” I begged. “I’ll be a good girl.”
I was no longer sure why I had thought this was a good idea, why I would ever ask for a spanking. Years of playful birthday spankings had made me misjudge how much a real one would hurt. My bottom was on fire by the time my father finally stopped.
I got up from my father’s lap, rubbing my bottom with both hands, biting my lips to deal with the pain.
“Was that what you wanted, sweety?” My father asked. “Do you know what a good spanking is now?”
“Yes, daddy.” I replied.
“So do you think you want to wait until next year until you get another; or do you think daddy should spank you more regularly to make sure you’re a good girl.” He asked.
I was still rubbing my bottom, it hurt so much, but I was still so aroused. Now I really was a good girl, I realized. Those birthday-spankings were just silly copies of this. I’d never feel like those would earn me a clean slate now that I knew what a real spanking was like.
“You should spank me every time I’m a naughty girl, daddy.” I told him.
My dad smiled. “I’m glad you agree.” He said. “It’s a sign of growing up, realizing what you just did. Come, give your old man a hug.”
I blushed, but rushed over to him, straddling his lap to give him a hug.
My father’s arms surrounded me and pulled me close. I was suddenly reminded of his own arousal when I felt his erection between my legs. I had not pulled my panties back on so I could feel his trousers pressed against my pussy as I sat on his lap.
His hands moved down and rested on my bare bottom, stroking it gently. “You get just as wet as your mother from a good spanking.” He whispered.
I blushed deeply. “Daddy, don’t say such things.”
“Why not?” He asked. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”
He certainly wasn’t ashamed, I realized. He must know I could feel his erection beneath me. Did the fact that I did not pull back encourage him to say such things?
“Now that daddy has shown you how bad girls are treated, do you want to know what good girls get as well?” He asked.
My heart was racing. I knew what he meant, It could not be, fathers didn’t do such things with their daughters, but I knew he wanted to fuck me.
“Yes, daddy.” I said.
He grabbed my hips and lifted me off his lap.
“Take off your clothes, sweetheart.” He told me.
I blushed, but was too aroused to disobey. I pulled down my skirt, my panties were already gone. Next I lifted my shirt over my head and unhooked my bra. My breasts were still small and I wondered if he compared them to mom’s. When I bent over to reach my socks, he reached out to stroke my hip.
“I’m ready, daddy.” I said.
“Good girl.” He said, while undoing his trousers. He freed his erection, it stood up proudly, big and firm. “Come sit back on daddy’s lap.”
Completely naked, I straddled him again.
“No condom?” I asked.
“Do you want one?” Daddy asked. “I won’t mind, but I had an operation after your little sister was born, so you won’t get pregnant.”
I blushed. “It’s okay, we don’t need one.”
Daddy guided me, down and onto his cock, burying it deep inside of me. I rode him gently, slowly picking up speed.
“Daddy is very proud of you honey, you’ve shown what a big girl you are today.” He said.
I blushed deeply, but kept riding him him. Daddy grabbed my ass and guided my movements, rocking slowly.
“Daddy, not so slow.” I protested.
“Ssh.” Daddy said, now pushing his hand between our bodies. “Remember, this is only for good girls.” He said.
He pushed his finger between my lips and massaged my clit. I moaned loudly, the arousal of my spanking and our forbidden love-making combined drove me to ecstasy. I grunted and rocked back and forth, squealing as I reached an orgasm by daddy’s hands.
“Good girl.” Daddy whispered, grabbing my ass again and lifting me off his lap. I hardly knew what was happening, I was too enthralled by my own pleasure.
My father pushed me face-down on the sofa. For a split second I feared he might fuck me in the ass, but I was too weak to stop him. Then he penetrated my pussy from behind. He fucked me quick an rough, smacking into my sore red bottom. I squealed and moaned, until he too reached his climax, shooting his sperm deep inside of me.
I lay in the sofa, naked and exhausted, daddy’s juices still dripping out of me.
“Get up, baby.” Daddy said. “Your mother, brother and sister will be home soon, you should get dressed.”
I jumped up and blushed deeply, quickly grabbing my stuff. I instinctively knew they were not allowed to know about any of this. I barely had my socks back on when I heard the car pull into the drive-way.
They arrived laughing and joyful, showing me the cake they had chosen. I still had candles to blow out, a family-dinner on a hard wooden chair and presents to unpack that day; but the best present of all, I’d already gotten.
At first, I found this story quite fantastic and a bit hard to believe. The part about wanting to be spanked as a young woman reminded me of myself however and was easy to believe, while the birthday-ritual seemed a bit unrealistic.
Every family has its own rituals however, so who knows; and the girl I talked to was very convincing in telling this story. Whether it’s real or not, I found it very exciting and wanted to share it anyway.
It also made me think I should share a few more stories about being spanked. Early on in my diary I wrote a story about my father spanking me. Since then the stories have spanned more than a year and while I’ve been spanked plenty times since, I haven’t written about it once. I shall have to add that to more stories to highlight that while I’m daddies princess, he’s still sometimes strict with me.
Princess’ discipline October 11, 2017 In "My stories"
Daddy read my diary (pt. 2) May 4, 2018 In "My stories"
My father’s lap June 18, 2017 In "My stories"
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