Nancy's New Hairbrush

 

The first time Nancy met the dreaded brush, it was a cold December evening.  She’d been playing bridge with the girls and come home a little late.  Roger gave her a warning, but dinner was on time and the evening looked to be pleasant.  Nancy had done the laundry that morning, so she went to fold clothes before Leave it to Beaver came on.

Now Nancy was perfectly aware of what things could and could not be put in the dryer.  So, when she pulled Roger’s best woolen pants out with the rest of the clothes, she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.  She held them up – they were small enough now to fit a child. Nancy groaned in dismay.

To her further bad luck, Roger was nearby, getting a bottle of coke in the kitchen.  “Nancy?  What’s the matter?”

For a wild second, Nancy thought about lying.  But Roger’s terrible punishment when he’d caught her telling fibs flew through her mind, and she knew that the spanking she’d get now would be far more merciful than what might happen when he realized that she’d lied again.

“I made a mistake with the dryer.  I’m so sorry, dear, I’m afraid your nice blue wool trousers are a lost cause.”

Roger poked his head into the laundry nook.  “Oh?”  He looked at the pitifully shrunken pants.  “I see.  And how did that happen?”

“I don’t know.  I must not have noticed them with the other clothes.”

“Hmmm.  Maybe because you were in a hurt to go gossip with your friends?”

Nancy flushed red.  It was true that she’d rushed through her chores this morning.  She lowered her eyes and shrugged. 

“Well, what’s done is done.”  For a brief moment, Nancy’s heart soared.  Maybe Roger wouldn’t punish her?  His next words brought her back down to earth.  “I’ll just have to give you a reminder to pay more attention to your work.”

Nancy’s bottom clenched.  She knew just what that meant.

“Go to the bedroom, dear, and take off your panties.  You won’t be needing them again tonight.  I’ll be there in a moment.”

Nancy hung her head and slowly made her way through the house.  Why, oh why hadn’t she been more careful?  Now Roger’s good pants were ruined and her bottom would pay the price.

She took her panties off and placed them in the hamper, then moved the spanking chair out of the corner.  Roger had put it there a few months ago, so that he would have a handy place to spank her in any room.  It was plain and armless, but Roger had painted a little blushing peach on the crosspiece of the back in a fit of humor.

True to his word, Roger arrived only moments later.  He’d rolled his sleeves up and was giving her a censorious look.  Nancy gulped.

Roger sat with all the authority of a king on his throne.  He patted his thigh.  Resigned, Nancy draped herself over his legs as gracefully as she could.  Roger pulled up the back of her skirt and tucked it into her pretty, red belt.  He stroked her pale cheeks.

“Nancy, why are you being spanked?”

“For ruining your trousers.  I really am sorry, dear.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are.  But you’ve been getting a little careless lately and I think you need a proper reminder of how a wife should keep house.”

That didn’t sound good.  “Yes, Roger.”

“Yes Roger, what?”

“Please give me a good spanking,” she whispered obediently.  No matter how many times she asked for it, the humiliating phrase never got any better.

“I certainly will, Nancy.  I’m going to give you a good long tanning until those cute little globes of yours are shining like the ones on the Christmas tree.”  He patted her bottom one more time, then began.

SMACK!  Nancy flinched as a spot of fire bloomed on her right cheek.  Roger wasted no time, landing spanks all around that cheek before switching to the other.  The sharp staccato sound of his hand on her tender bottom echoed around the room.  The sting and burn grew while he methodically worked over each cheek in turn over and over.  Nancy’s toes curled in her kitten heels, and she whimpered.  It had been nearly a month since her last spanking.  It seemed as if her bottom only got tenderer when given a break.

Roger kept up a running commentary, informing her of the progressing color of her bottom and promising her more to come.  He was so good at finding just the right words to make her belly flutter with fear and prickly embarrassment.  Nancy whimpered and squirmed, knowing better than to beg him for lenience.

After about 5 solid minutes of bottom-warming, Roger paused.  “There now, that’s a nice warm seat,” he told her cheerfully.  “I think it’s just about ready to meet my new tool.”

New tool?  Nancy gulped.  Roger was so creative when it came to punishing her.  She sometimes wished she’d married a slightly duller man.

Roger reached back, then bent over to place something under her nose.  Nancy’s eyes nearly crossed as she took it in.

Oh no.

Everyone knew about hairbrush spankings.  As a little girl Nancy’s mother had threatened her with one if she was ever naughty enough.  Nancy had been an obedient child, however, and the threat had been enough.  Even so, those tantalizing promises had remained in the back of Nancy’s mind, building “the hairbrush” into a boogeyman of spanking.

“I picked it up at work for you,” Roger informed her, tapping her nose gently with the brush’s shiny wooden back.  “Mazie helped me pick it out – she says it’s the one her mother uses on her.  Stings like the devil, she told me.”

Nancy burst into tears.  “Oh no, Roger, please!  Not a hairbrush.  I’ll be a good girl, I promise.  Please don’t spank me with that.”

“What’s all this?” Roger seemed a little taken aback at her hysterics.  “I most certainly am going to give you a good paddling.”  Nancy sobbed harder.  “There’s no need for all this fuss, though.  A good old-fashioned brushing is tradition.  All wives have a special hairbrush somewhere.”

Stuttering between her sobs, Nancy explained about how her mother had always held the hairbrush over her head if she was veering too close to outright defiance. 

“I see,” Roger said musingly.  “Well, that’s good to know.  I’ll reserve the hairbrush for serious offences then.  I imagine that your associations will make it that much more effective.  Still, I planned you a brushing today and I don’t go back on my punishments, darling.  A good paddling won’t do you any harm and now you’ll know exactly what to fear.”

“Oh no, darling please!  Not the brush!”

“Nonsense,” Roger said briskly.  He placed the cool wood on her nates and rubbed it in circles.  “I promised you a thorough tanning.  This little bottom isn’t even medium rare yet!”

The cool wood lifted.  Nancy jerked over Roger’s lap, and he paused.  “That won’t do.”  He swung one leg over hers and caught her wrist in his free hand, pinning it behind her back.  Now she could only wiggle like a hooked fish.  Her bottom tingled in dreadful anticipation.

POP!  The brush landed sharply in the center of her cheek.  Nancy yipped and kicked her feet.  POP!  POP! POP!  Roger cracked the wood into her soft buns.

“Such a lot of drama!  Well, if you insist on making a spectacle, my dear, I’ll make it worth your while.”  He paddled her firmly, making sure to put an extra snap in his wrist.  “As my daddy once said – I’ll give you something to cry about!”

Roger was as good as his word.  While Nancy squalled and wailed like a child, he tanned her backside.  He spanked just as meticulously as ever, paddling her buns a shiny Christmas red.  He worked in a pattern, beginning at her crowns, and laying overlapping circles down to her thighs.  Roger didn’t believe in leaving things undone.  He made sure that every inch of Nancy’s bottom felt the painful kiss of the hairbrush.  Slowly, carefully, he tanned Nancy while she sobbed and wriggled.

Nancy was all but hysterical, sobbing and wailing like a little girl.  Trapped over Roger’s knee, she took her spanking with all the grace and dignity of a 10-year-old.  Something about the sharp popping sound of the brush impacting her buns, the knowledge that now, as a fully grown woman, she was experiencing the fabled hairbrush and the deep burn of the wood all combined to reduce her to the mindset of a child.

None of her fuss affected Roger.  When her bottom was nicely crimson, he spent another minute on her sit spots, making sure that Nancy wouldn’t be sitting any time soon.  After he’d blistered her cheek bottoms to his satisfaction, Roger lay the brush on her back.

“There, now.  That’s right dear, cry it out. You were very silly and careless, but I’ve given you a proper spanking for it.  You’re alright.”  He rubbed soothing circles over Nancy’s glowing nates.   “Now you know what a hairbrush is really like.  I promise I’ll keep it for your worst infractions, dear.  That should help keep you on a good path.”

Nancy calmed slowly.  Sobs tuned to sniffles, and Roger directed her to the corner.  Nancy rested her forehead against the cool plaster and thanked her lucky starts that Roger was so understanding.