The Teasdale Family Tradition

Part Two

Rebekah Revealed

Image from smilingnudegirls.com

(Our story began here: http://auntcarlascorner.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-teasdale-family-tradition_22.html)

As Rebekah padded into the kitchen, she found it hard to resist her natural inclination to cover herself from the appreciative gaze of her parents, her brother, and sister. Still, resist it she did, because it was considered bad form. Rebekah was nothing if not a proud Teasdale girl!

“Happy birthday, pumpkin,” her dad said from in front of the stove, where he was frying bacon and eggs.

“Oh, don’t you look darling!” her effusive mother gushed. Seventeen-year-old Melie smiled at the sight of her birthday-suited sister, while fifteen-year-old Marc looked as though his eyes might pop out of his head. Rebekah blushed and smiled at the sight of the hand-woven placemat on one of the vacant chairs, and planted her naked backside there as expected.

“Well, here goes nothing!” she said with brio. The family laughed good-naturedly at her excellent attitude and willingness to indulge family tradition. Everyone knew it took a great deal of bravado; other than Rebekah herself, Mrs. Teasdale knew that best.

“Look over here, my dears,” she told her three children. They leaned in together for the picture (the first of many to be taken that day), which would of course be relegated to a private family album. In accordance with tradition, Mr. Teasdale would give it as a wedding gift to Rebekah’s groom when she married.

Mr. Teasdale, wearing his “Kiss the Cook” apron, served everyone breakfast. They chatted about the day to come and enjoyed scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, hand-squeezed orange juice and coffee. Afterwards, everyone except Rebekah pitched in to clean up (it was also considered bad form to expect the birthday girl to do any work on her special day).

“All right, everyone,” said Mrs. Teasdale brightly, “go get ready; our guests will be arriving soon.”

Everyone went to their respective rooms, while Rebekah took her mat with her to the living room, settled in on the couch, and turned on the mix of her favorite music that her dad had given her as an early gift. With the delightful strains of Debussy’s Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune softly filling the room, Rebekah picked up her copy of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca and read of her namesake’s exploits in delighted seclusion. It felt odd indeed to be naked in the living room--even completely alone--but already she was getting somewhat used to the idea.

*     *     *

When the doorbell rang, Rebekah was jolted from her reverie. (Literally. Debussy’s Reverie was actually playing at that moment.) She put her book down and rose to her feet. Determined not to “wimp out” on any detail of what was expected of her today, she boldly walked to the front door and opened it-- demurely hiding her body behind it as she did so. (The neighbors were not to be afforded a glimpse of this family-only special event!)

“Hi, baby doll,” said Rebekah’s big sister Madison, 20, trailed by her 21-year-old husband Geoffrey. It seemed the Goddess was allowing the birthday girl a chance to get past her biggest emotional hurdle right away!

“Hi, guys,” she said warmly, opening the door enough to let them in, but not allowing her nakedness to be broadcast to the neighborhood. Geoffrey whistled appreciatively.

“Wow! The family resemblance is unmistakable.”

“Geoff!” Madison mock-scolded her husband, punching him lightly on the arm. “That’s my little sister!”

“Not so little anymore,” he observed trenchantly. “And every bit as lovely as my bride. Happy birthday, sweet girl!” He winked at Rebekah, making her blush deeply and go somewhat weak in the knees. “Hi, Geoffrey,” she managed, “come on in.”

The family came into the living room; kisses and warm greetings were exchanged. Mr. Teasdale and Geoffrey fell into easy conversation about current events and politics, an interest they shared and conversed about as amiably--and heatedly--as old school friends. Geoffrey worked for a lobbying firm, and Mr. Teasdale was an old-school politico himself.

Geoffrey had been dating Madison when she’d turned 18. The girl and her family were maddeningly close-mouthed about the family extravaganza that kept his girlfriend busy all day on her birthday. Any frustration he may have felt then was more than completely compensated for, however, when Mr. Teasdale gave him that photo album. Leafing through that book of miracles (which included a classic shot of his naked bride being spanked over the lap of her attractive aunt) just prior to the wedding night had made that night all the more thrilling.

People kept coming, and there was much good-natured laughter among the guests each time Rebekah carefully opened the door to let another batch in. She soon became an expert on doing so without giving the neighbors a free show. To a person, each guest commented on how beautiful she was. As much as she may have been blushing due to embarrassment at her unprecedented exposure, her face flushed more with pleasure at the avalanche of compliments she received.

The house kept filling up. Two sets of grandparents, two aunts, one uncle. Four cousins, one an 18-year-old boy named Stephen excited to have birthday spanking privileges for the first time. Probably the most embarrassing encounter was with three younger cousins, two boys and a girl. The boys, ages eight and ten, found it impossible not to giggle and whisper, pointing with huge grins on their faces. Rebekah did her best to take it in stride; Aunt Marcie, on the other hand, put a stop to it. She came up behind them and swatted their little behinds at the same time, getting a startled, stereophonic “Ow!”in  response. Then she announced, loud enough for Rebekah to hear, that if her sons failed to “get it together” the birthday girl “[wouldn’t] be the only person receiving bare-bottom spankings today.” The boys’ faces went candy-apple red and they immediately desisted. They knew from experience that their mom wouldn’t hesitate to deliver on that promise in front of extended family if necessary.

According to the family custom, the young lady nearest the birthday girl in age (and thus next in line for her own very special party) was tasked with following the guest of honor around with her mat and putting it down wherever she chose to sit down. It was not unlike the Maid of Honor being responsible for a bride’s train, and Melie performed the duty with pride. Everyone enjoyed the delicious buffet that Mr. Teasdale had prepared, and his wife took many candid shots of her daughter posing with various family members. Then she made an announcement.

“Presents time! Let’s all gather in the living room.”

As everyone was finding a seat in the living room, Geoffrey came up behind Rebekah and spoke quietly in her ear.

“By my count, there are twelve adults here today. Twelve times 18 is is 216. Ouch!” He grinned and winked again, once more turning Rebekah’s knees to jelly.

“Actually it’s twelve times nineteen,” she replied with a blushing grin of her own. “You know, the whole ‘one to grow on’ thing?”

“Right! That makes it...what?” He did a quick calculation in his head, but Rebekah’s cousin Stephen, smartphone calculator in hand, beat him to it.

“228!” he announced with a smile.

His dad, Rebekah’s Uncle Ted, whistled appreciatively.

“Two hundred and twenty-eight smacks to a bare behind! I know one young lady who’s gonna be sleeping on her tummy tonight.”

“So sit while you can, baby girl,” her father said, smiling and gesturing toward the big chair in the center of the room. The assembled family applauded as Melie laid down the mat and Rebekah took her place of honor. Mrs. Teasdale took  the “official” picture of her smiling, blushing eldest daughter. Rebekah had always been a little self-conscious about being the center of attention at birthday present time, but it had never been anything like this.

She thought about the numbers: twelve laps, 228 smacks to her tender behind! She gulped and accepted the first gift that was placed in her lap. There was no turning back now!

[End Part Two]

Copyright Ⓒ 2013 by Aunt Carla
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