(gap: 2s) Many of my most delightful childhood holidays were spent with my relatives in the American state of Michigan. These visits continued until I had completed my studies at university, and I had known these dear relations for as long as I could remember, for they had also visited us in London. My father maintained business acquaintances in Michigan as well.
The visits were always a source of great happiness, lasting two or three weeks at a time, and were arranged by my father’s business, as a sort of apprenticeship, though I never did join the business in the end.
My relatives—mostly aunts and distant cousins—were also friends with my father’s business associates. They were church-going, warm-hearted, and generous, though their ways were rather different from our quieter life in London. Everything in America appeared larger, brighter, and ever so much more exhilarating!
One December, Uncle Michael, his wife Susan, and my cousin Linda collected me from the airport while my parents departed on a business trip. We were all to meet again for Christmas in Michigan.
The journey from New York to Grand Rapids was most thrilling. We visited Niagara Falls, stopped at drive-in restaurants, and sampled all manner of ice-cream, even though the weather was cold. At one petrol station, I saw something quite extraordinary—a birthday spanking paddle!
The paddle made me feel a peculiar flutter within, for it was a public sign of something I believed should always remain private. My own birthday was approaching, and Susan and Linda teased me about the American tradition of birthday spankings. They purchased the paddle, which bore an English crown, and told me all about the custom as we travelled along.
I never imagined for a moment that such a thing would actually happen to me, but the idea made me feel rather shy. At home, we did not have spankings, though at school there was the slipper and the cane in those days.
Susan and Michael explained that they had spanked their children when they were young, and that it was quite normal in their community. They were surprised that my parents did not do the same, and that at my school, we did not have to lower our trousers for the cane. In Grand Rapids, a proper spanking was considered part of growing up.
This made me feel even more apprehensive. At my school in London, no one would ever be made to lower their trousers, so the thought of a public birthday spanking was most alarming!
A few days later, in Grand Rapids, the birthday spanking tradition came to life, but not for me—at least, not yet! My cousin David had turned twenty, and there was a lively party. When it was announced that it was time for his birthday spanking, everyone cheered and laughed. David pretended to resist, but soon he was giggling and ready for the fun.
There were more than thirty people present, all family and friends. David, in his white trousers, lay across Linda’s knee, and everyone joined in the laughter and good-natured teasing. I had never seen anything like it before—a cheerful, friendly game that everyone seemed to enjoy.
The spanks were gentle at first, and everyone counted along. After “twenty and one to grow on,” others joined in, giving light pats and making everyone laugh. There was much merriment and good cheer.
Aunt Susan noticed my wide-eyed amazement and said kindly, “That is something for you to anticipate on Sunday, dear!”
I also learned that it was the custom to give birthday money to the person being spanked—one, five, or ten dollar bills. I was both embarrassed and a little excited at the thought of collecting birthday dollars. Aunt Susan smiled and said, “It is up to you—no spanking, no birthday money! The choice is yours, my dear.”
I was relieved to see that David kept his trousers on, but Susan added, “Birthday spankings are for the boys, not the girls. That would not be proper.”
I was in a muddle, for I wished for the birthday dollars, but the idea of a public spanking was simply too much! Susan saw my worry and reassured me gently. “It is merely a bit of fun,” she said. “You do not have to do it if you do not wish.” I cheekily asked if I might have the dollars without the spanking, and she laughed and patted me on the back.
Sunday arrived with a great snowfall. My parents were delayed, but we spoke on the telephone and they wished me a happy birthday. The family made a great fuss of me—we went ice-skating, enjoyed a splendid birthday cake, and I was even allowed a small glass of sherry, which made me feel quite grown-up.
Later, Aunt Susan hugged me and asked, “Last chance, dear—birthday spanking and dollars, or not?” Before I knew it, I had agreed! Susan beamed and said, “Splendid!”
She called everyone together and announced, “It is time for the ceremony—the birthday boy has agreed to his birthday spanking!” There were cheers and applause, and I felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Linda whispered, “Your turn now—enjoy! You shall be richer soon!”
My arms were gently raised, and someone helped me out of my jeans, leaving me in my warm winter long johns. I was carefully guided across Aunt Susan’s lap, and some of the family held my hands and feet to ensure I was safe and comfortable. I could see only shoes and slippers on the floor, and I felt rather exposed, but everyone was smiling and kind.
Aunt Susan patted my back and said, “You boys are fortunate to have such neat little bottoms! I think we shall all enjoy this.” She rubbed the birthday paddle gently on my back, and it felt cool and smooth, even through my warm clothes.
Then, in the most storybook fashion, Aunt Susan made certain my long johns were snug, so the spanks would be felt but not cause pain. It was all very proper and gentle, and I felt a little squirmy, but also rather brave.
There was more gentle patting, and everyone cheered and clapped. The atmosphere was full of laughter and good spirits, and I could not help but smile, even though I was a little embarrassed.
At last, the spanking began. Aunt Susan gave me a series of light, friendly pats—one for each year, and one more “to grow on.” Each pat was accompanied by a cheer from the family, and I felt a warm, tingling sensation, but it was never painful. Between the pats, Aunt Susan would pause to give me a reassuring smile or a gentle rub on the back, making certain I was all right.
When the last pat was given, everyone clapped and cheered, and I was helped to my feet. Aunt Susan gave me a big hug, and the family pressed birthday dollars into my hand. I felt proud and happy, and very much a part of the family.
And so, my first American birthday spanking became a cherished memory—full of laughter, kindness, and the gentle fun of a loving family.
