They simply must look, but not be seen or they both might go over the knee of enthusiastic newbie, old-time Vicar. Mind you, thought Tasha naughtily, that might not be such a bad thing. Ladies of the PPC over a knee – it had a certain ring Now place your feet apart Samantha, you can stand with your bottom on show until the end of class.” A little tune is played, we sup our first gulp, look at the bottoms on show, and settle down for a blushing bottom tale of spanking… I am writing to your publication for advice on something that happened to me which I found most unfair and humiliating. I am an 18-year-old living in my parents' house along with my older sister, Ayn. Ayn is 25 and 5'10", 185 pounds, with shoulder-length blonde curly hair. She is a bossy sister who dresses provocatively in short skirts and sleeveless blouses. Last weekend our parents were out of town and they put Ayn in charge of me. I don't think it is right for a grown man to be under the care of his older sister! Momma put a 22:00 curfew in effect, but I didn't worry about the curfew as Ayn said she was going out dancing with her friends and wouldn't return until late. I enjoyed the clear spring evening with my friends at an outdoor INGSOC lecture and returned home around 23:00. I was stunned to find my sister waiting for me with her arms crossed in the entryway of our split-level house. Then from out of nowhere (I didn’t see a handbag) she produced a tube of balsam soothing cream, and began to rub some into my cheeks which by now were very hot and pink.

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My arms were raised above my head, and I felt someone unzipping my jeans and tugging them down. More whoops and cheers. I had warm woollen winter ‘long johns’ on underneath, which at least were less revealing than normal pants. Then I found myself being dragged across Aunt Peggy’s lap. People were holding my hands and feet, and my nose was near the floor. I could see only shoes, mostly women’s high heels! I was very conscious that my bottom was up in the air, and though I had the long woollen pants on, I felt very exposed, vulnerable and compromised. In due time, this joyous fact would be shared with parish ladies as they discussed the merits and joys of bottoms bare and spanking matters, over each other’s knee as it turned out, on Wednesday nights at Ladies Group. But that was for the near future. There and then, in real time, there was some proper action due. A window was open in that small space known as the vestry. As they passed by an unmistakable sound emanated out, rooting them to the spot. Well Vicar look startled but in the face of matronly will, he complied. It was indeed quite a scene. Mrs F pushed herself off the spanking lap, bottom bare red-pink all over – majestic and regal, plump and broad, Tasha thought, with possibly the deepest cleft she had ever in her young life seen. In that moment a plan was formed that before she left for Norland-land, she would pay a visit to that lap, if she could possibly afford. Tasha felt the juices flowing, and had to restrain from bursting in on that scene, crying “please, please, spank me!”

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Now Tasha and Penny withdrew from the view, in fair old agitated state. Tasha needed to relieve herself in more than ways than one. Penny had an overwhelming desire to spank a bare. A naughty solution came to both: Thanks to the church, the Lord above, Vicars and local matriarchs. And of course the mistress of Spank herself, Aphrodite of the Beautiful Bare Acre and Bottom Bare – who else? That made me even more squirmy, as I thought ‘pants’ meant underpants, and so a pants-down spanking meant a bare bottom punishment. Later, of course, I learned that ‘pants’ in the US meant trousers or jeans, so at least you could keep some semblance of modesty.

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Perhaps because she was much older, perhaps because of her ‘donation’ (I realised later that Leanne had basically ‘bought’ me), I allowed myself to be undressed and soon I was playfully put across her knee, my bare bottom in the air. That was the first of many jokey and some serious spankings I experienced over the next few years in Michigan. They included one administered at church, after my now 18-year-old self and Kirsten, Leanne’s 17-year-old adopted daughter, got caught with cigarettes and alcohol. In Michigan, as in most states, it was illegal to drink alcohol under the age of 21. I am still humiliated and ashamed from what happened. When my parents returned home I asked my Momma if she gave Ayn permission to spank me. Momma gave me a funny look and said, "Why no, what on earth are you talking about? Did Ayn spank you?"

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She sits, legs open, her chin on her hand, elbow on knee. “Hello all, I think you’ll like this un!” Well, another thing which Penny noticed, was not surprising in itself but she took with utmost discretion and tact, although she was feeling very like that herself – a wetness on the lap where Tasha’s weight was bearing. Her instinct was to ignore but note – Tasha would sort that on her own. Yet, she took it as a compliment that she and Tasha could share such things – a bottom bare, the natural juices, all so healthy – that a spanking sometimes produces when done as it should be – vigorously, as Mrs F would say. Julia and Winston have a love affair and things inevitably go to hell for them, but I still fantasized about being Julia (hence my favorite pen name Julie) in 1984. I fantasized that if I lived in the 1984 world I would dress and undress in front of the telescreen (where the Thought Police monitor your every action) and would seduce political party members. Like Julia I would also work for Pornosec. I fantasized in detail about the cheap dirty stories I would have written for Spanking Stories. Before I could never anonymously write these stories, but now with thanks to literotica.com, I can. These stories I write will be "ghastly rubbish" complete with bad spelling and typos as they should be for a cheap booklet of spanking stories. It won't be hard for me to write ghastly as I am a lousy writer, and while I feel lousy about how I write I feel good about writing this story. This is a story I want to write, and I've written stories (such as My Blonde Step Mom Spanked Me) in the past just to make other people happy, and some of the stories that I've vomited out onto the computer screen and that were published online disgust me but this new series of stories will be different. And what a sight met their eyes. Vicar sat, trousers at knees, his own bare cheeks upon the chair wood (Tasha nodded in approval). Across his lap lay a bottom bare of sizable girth, and rounded cheek being turned white to pink with vigour and vim. In short he was giving it what for with a good deal of welly thrown in. But who was the owner of those bare acres? She could be heard, but face not seen.

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Now it was Tasha’s turn – her long-suffering spanker was getting impatient so she should complete the task , or else. Besides, it was getting a little cold. English graveyards are never warm. So, Tasha without much further ado, unbuttoned the dungarees. The flaps unflapped, hooks were unhooked and buttons undone, until at last the trews and panties came down (not Raeger but M&S) revealing a sight of total delight – a deeper-cheeked rear of width and girth. Penny gave out a cry of delight – “what an inheritance my dearest friend – your splendid bottom bare – which in time will no doubt be passed on to generations yet unborn”.

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Then my cousin Leanne leaned over and whispered in my ear: “I haven’t had my turn yet.” As I zipped up my jeans, I allowed her to lead me into another room, where we were alone. I was elated and a bit tipsy. Leanne was much older than me – about 45, I guess, and quite solidly built. She seductively slipped me a 50 dollar bill, and said: “How about a special private little birthday spanking, in your birthday suit, honey-pie?” One early morning fair, whilst out for a walk, Penny and Tasha strolled past the church. As oft they did when Tasha was home on leave.

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Except in special cases. She’d even tried to have the class of spank re-formed. So girls could learn technique, if called. Penny said, “What, now and here? Tasha, darling girl, you’ve’ got a walloping coming your way, hell or high water, but what do you mean? I’m taking you home by the ear, to deal with your rear…”. No, it was not Michelle. Then she got it. The bottom bare its owner fair was Mrs F – she lived next door. Well, well, well. Matriarch of six herself, of Family Frobisher: a husband, two daughters, two sons, a nephew and a niece. She was no stranger to give and receive, that time honoured fashion of women and men.Fast-forward a couple of days to Grand Rapids, and the birthday spanking actually theme came to life, much to my astonishment, but not with me as its subject – yet! Another cousin of mine, Charlotte, had turned 20 and there was quite a party. Late on in the proceedings, to much raucous delight, it was announced that it was time for her birthday spanking! Tasha said, “Penny, now listen we’re both hot and bothered. No need to go far. This churchyard’s large, let’s find a grave stone and you can set to…” I was relieved that Charlotte had kept her leggings on, scant protection though they were, but as if she read my mind, Peggy added: “Pants down birthday spankings for the boys always, but not the girls. That wouldn’t be proper.”