I quickly shut the closet doors and walked to the bed. I sat down, arms crossed, as I heard Gina’s footsteps down the hallway. A huge lump invaded my throat. My chest heaved with hard breathing. My heart thumped something awful.

Tap, tap… tap, tap… steps getting closer and closer. There. Right in front of my door. A soft knock.

“Come in,” I said, but it came out raucous.

The door cracked open and Gina poked her head in, her face tight, her lips pursed. I could see she wasn’t one bit happy. How could she have been, after all. Everything she had instructed me to do, I had failed. The previous afternoon I’d been told to study for today’s test, and I hadn’t. Result: a failing grade. Mum and Dad would have been unhappy, yes, but it was my babysitter whose reaction I feared the most. Then I had been sulky and rude all the way from school to home, and Gina had been even too patient and tolerated my snaps.

When asked what was wrong, I said it was nothing. When asked how the test went, I said ‘fine’. When asked to show her the marked paper just out of curiosity, I fell apart.

She didn’t technically have the power to make me do that... but I knew that if I refused to show it, she would know I was lying. Either way, I was already in trouble. So I showed her. That, and everything else connected to it, had led me to my bedroom, waiting for her to come.

And I knew perfectly well she didn’t want to just talk.

Finally she walked in... and my eyes darted to her hand. A hairbrush. Well, no, not just any hairbrush. Her hairbrush. *The* hairbrush. Right before sending me to my bedroom, she’d promised me ‘a good, long and hard spanking with the hairbrush on my bare bottom’. I had heard of Gina’s hairbrush from my... friend... Nicky. She told me how it didn’t just sting, but how it bloody hurt and made you want to scream. She had told me such horrific tales about it, all gained from the one time she was spanked with it, that I had learnt to fear the name alone. And, mind you, both Nicky and I had been hairbrush-spanked only two weeks earlier for the pool accident... but that was *a* hairbrush, just a hair-combing tool that Gina happened to find in my mother’s bathroom because she didn’t have her own handy. Or maybe because what I had done hadn’t been enough to grant me *the* hairbrush. I don’t know. I wished I’d never found out, but boy, was I wrong.

Gina looked at me weird, half sad and half upset, can’t tell for sure. My eyes were hooked on that formidable-looking implement in her hand. About seven inches long, not counting the handle. Four inches wide in its widest spot. Half of an inch thick, not counting the bristles. It was made of wood, probably cherry, I never found out. It sure looked cherry red anyway. And it looked heavy. *That* I found out. Somehow its round edges and its light-reflecting, smooth flat side didn’t make it any less threatening. It looked like a red demon carried by a beautiful but strict female Charon, and that demon was heading my way, ready to unleash pure hell on my round, thriving twelve-year-old boy bottom.

Okay, I was just a few weeks away from being a teen, but that didn’t make much difference, did it?

In slow-motion I watched as she walked in, closed the door behind her, and walked to the bed. I gulped and felt fear gripping my heart. She sat beside me on the bed and placed the hairbrush right there on her lap, where it was impossible for me not to see it. I tried to look away, but it was still there, calling my eyes to her – is the hairbrush female? Or is it Mr. Hairbrush perhaps? Hmm.

“Haley,” Gina started in a calm, but firm voice. “I am very disappointed in you.”

I felt a huge pang of guilt, and looked at my feet dangling from the edge of bed. Why I was afraid to disappoint Gina more than my own mother or father, I wouldn’t know. Perhaps the authority that came with her was something that didn’t want to be threatened or let down, and when I did, I felt awful.

My voice croaked. “I... I was just scared to tell you I failed, and... stuff. You know.”

“I know. But you should have been studying when I told you to. Everything would have been easier. When are you going to learn to listen, Haley?”

I shrugged.

“You know, sometimes, adults can actually give out a few good suggestions. You should try and listen to a few of those, don’t you think?”

Probably the part that... no, *certainly* the part I hated the most about Gina’s scolding was the way it always made me feel like a six-year-old. There was just no helping it. I was in some ways mature for my age, but when I was there facing a spanking, everything melted away and I fell into a state of semi-oblivion, hearing my babysitter telling me I had been naughty and would be soundly spanked for it. It was childish and, looking back, very humiliating. But there and then, I just saw it as the natural order of things, and as I said, simply hung my head and listened.

“I guess so,” I said in a whisper, not really able to articulate more.

“Okay...”

Gina probably did realise that it’s hard to make much sense of a scolding when you know your bottom is going to feel like a hot stove in a matter of seconds. So she reached over and gave me a soft hug. Instinctively I leaned sideways into her and let my head rest just below her chin. She kissed my hair and I sighed – also because from there, I could see the hairbrush clear as day.

“I’m really sorry though okay?...” I mumbled, hoping that would somewhat lessen the severity of my ordeal.

“I’m very glad to hear that, honey.”

Another kiss to my head, then she gently distanced me and motioned for me to stand. Her words had been reassuring me to a degree, and I did feel her love and care, and everything... but still, I knew that the punishment was hanging, and very, very imminent.

I stood on weak knees and took a step forward. She gently spun me around to face her, and the whole room started to spin around me. The desk. The chair. The CD rack. My gaming console. The door. The bookcase. The closet. I could hear the noises from down the street as though they were deafening; the colours in the room were altered and exaggerate; every smell was pungent; every tactile sensation was enhanced (which isn’t good for your bottom, at all!). I was aware of every littlest detail of my surroundings, like seeing one of those ultra-high resolution photos, more real than reality.

So imagine my feeling when Gina reached for my jeans and started to pull down the zipper. I stood motionless, hands on my side as I knew was required of me, as the denim tissue opened in the front revealing my V-shaped white briefs underneath. I watched helplessly as Gina gave my jeans a firm tug, and they started their descent off my hips and down my thighs. Lower and lower they went, reaching my knees, and finally falling down to hug my ankles. I blushed and gulped and felt my head spin some more, partly because of the undignified situation, but mostly because I knew it was about to get worse.

My face burned with embarrassment and I felt like dying when Gina hooked her fingers in the waistband of my undies and started to pull down. She grabbed the cotton tissue with both hands and all fingers, that were brushing on my sides as she gave another tug. I have always been one for rather snug underwear, but still, she encountered no resistance as she pulled my briefs down. And down they went, well past my hips, and making the same trip down to my ankles, where they reached my shorts.

Once again I became very aware of my position and everything related to it. That extreme sensitiveness that came with being spanked made me almost picture myself from the outside, sort of a temporary out-of-body experience. I envisioned the twelve-year-old me standing in front of Gina, bare from my belly down, my white T-shirt barely covering the tops of my buttocks, and definitely not covering what a young boy does not want to show anyone – and especially a girl – in such a frame. I felt an almost irresistible instinct to cover with my hands, to at least preserve some of the leftover dignity. And maybe I wouldn’t have resisted, but I’ll never know, because just as my hands were starting to have a mind of their own, Gina took them gently in hers and spoke again.

“Now listen, Haley. You have been disobedient, and have not done what I told you to yesterday afternoon. Today in school you completely failed a test you could have at least tried if only you had studied any. On top of it all, you lied to conceal the truth. Last but definitely not least, you have been rude and unnecessarily sulky to me for several hours before I got the truth out of you.”

Again my face burned, and this time I felt tears starting to well up in my eyes, and they stung. Such a recap of my misdeed was suddenly making me feel like a very naughty boy who does deserve every bit of the spanking that is coming his way. After all, I guess that was the point.

“For all of this,” Gina said as she took the hairbrush from her lap and set it aside on the bedside table, “I am going to turn you over my knee and give you a very long and hard spanking with my hand and the hairbrush. Do you understand, Haley?”

That she had avoided to call me ‘young man’ or any other humiliating nickname was of very little consolation. I felt the sudden urge to cry out at the vivid description of the upcoming spanking, but I resisted it. Barely. I hung my head even lower in shame, feeling very bad with myself, and nodded.

“Yes Miss...” was my reply, as Gina expects us to say when we’re given an order or a spanking.

“Good boy.”

And with that she gave my hands a tug and I was drawn to her lap, where I fell gently. My torso and arms lay on the bed and I rested my chin on the mattress. My legs dangled over the edge, and Gina positioned my vulnerable backside across her left thigh. My T-shirt had ridden up my back in the process, thus baring the target completely.

She scolded me some more while I was in that position, repeating the same things all over again. At some point she placed her warm hand on my bottom and kept it there, and that sent shivers up my back and goosebumps all over my flesh. As much as her words were somehow poignant, I couldn’t help but think that if I was, say, out of the window and looking at this, I would be enjoying myself.

I didn’t understand much if anything of why spankings had always been so fascinating, but I was honest enough to admit that it would have been cool to watch someone else spanked like this. I wondered what someone looking in there and then would be feeling, seeing me half bare and in that childish posture and about to be given a royal thrashing. I know for sure my mouth would be dry, and my palms sweaty, and my breath hardening and my heartbeat quickening.

Well, I was feeling those things anyway... but for a thoroughly different reason, and not nearly as enjoyable. Once again I couldn’t help but notice how easy it was *for me* to have a spanking interest when I wasn’t the one actually getting it: more and more I realised how being on the other end of spanking was more appealing.

Then I felt Gina’s hand leave my bottom, and my world changed. Yes, the realisation that the wait is over and that ‘now it starts’ can really turn your little world upside down.

SMACK!

Yeah I don’t like onomatopoeic words either, but that was called for, because I heard the first smack very distinctly before I could even feel it. And when I did, it felt as though... well, as though a determined babysitter’s hand had just slammed into my backside. Ouchie!

Many more followed that first one, and Gina lived up to her reputation of a slow, methodical spanker, whose every swat was hard enough to have my body jerk forward a bit. If it wasn’t for her hand pressed on the small of my back keeping me firmly in place, I would have been moving quite a lot across her lap.

I did anyway, but it was more like squirming than anything. By the tenth smack, I stopped counting and just focused on how I could distract myself. Nothing could take my mind off the sting and the increasing heat building on my backside, though. Every smack would double the effect of its predecessor, and lay the ground for a more intense, more painful and harder to bear following smack. Soon enough I felt like crying out, but stoically resisted.

Gina spanked me long and hard as she’d promised. Her hand flew up in the air and down it came again, slapping my nether cheeks soundly, often alternating between right and left – which made those rare uneven spanks all the worse: I sure didn’t expect to be smacked on my right side twice in a row, and I nearly jumped at that. It hurt so much!

Then her attention was devoted to my sit-spots, and that set me off. The courageous promises I’d done myself on how I shouldn’t have been lamenting like a little girl were washed off when her hard palm impacted right there where buttocks meet thighs. After only a few smacks there, I was crying softly but steadily, hiding my face in my hands and trying to be as quiet as possible.

When she hit on the right, her fingers wrapped around and dug into my side. When she hit on the left, her fingertips would torment my inner thigh, and that brought more than a few additional yelps, and the occasional kick of my leg. But other than that, I tried to remain as still as possible.

It stopped all of a sudden, and the room was quiet except from my sniffling. I felt the silence as almost deafening, and it told me that she had stopped. Not finished. Just stopped. I knew very well that it wasn’t over, and sure enough, Gina picked up the hairbrush.

I raised my head to look at the closet and her hand was right there in front of my eyes, reaching for the brush placed on the bedside table. I lost it for a moment, and for the first time since I got to know Gina, I begged.

“Noooo please not that... Gina come on...”

It wasn’t a very convincing plea, because I must admit I didn’t want to look weak (boys can be so foolish sometimes, ha!). And sure enough, it didn’t convince Gina at all, because after grabbing the brush by the handle she placed the flat side on my bottom. The cool wood felt momentarily good there. I reiterated my plea, and also promised that all I’d done would not happen again if only she let me off.

“Haley, dear,” she said while rubbing the hairbrush in slow circles. Ah, such torture! “If I didn’t spank you good now, you would feel authorised to think you got off easy...”

“No, no I promise I lear...”

“Do not interrupt when I’m talking to you, young man!” The hairbrush tapped on my bare cheeks, not hard, but enough to make me yelp and get my attention.

“S-sorry...”

“Good. I was saying. A thorough spanking is what you need to learn from your mistakes and to never want to incur in them again. My handspankings can be hard, granted, but this time you need to feel the hairbrush on your little bottom, because I assure you you’ll never even think of doing any of those things again when I’m through with you this afternoon.”

My crying went up a notch as she repeated yet again her promises to give it to me hard. That was one of the worst things for me: wasn’t it enough that she *would* spank me hard? Did she also have to say it so loud and clear and so often? That made me kinda miserable

Alas, I know there was no way out. And sure enough, the wait was once again over and Gina raised the hairbrush. Down it came and I felt the air rush on the hot surface of my bottom a millisecond before the impact.

My reaction was a loud shriek. I had gripped the sheets a second earlier and now fought not to move, but my body had a mind of its own and just jerked in all directions, legs kicking and head cocking up. I squirmed and struggled but Gina’s left hand pinned me down. My fingers ached from how tight I was holding the comforter. And useless to say, my poor bummy felt like a French village under the Stukas’ fire; and that was only the first raid!

I didn’t know how I could live through the many more smacks that Gina was planning to give me. I mean, two weeks earlier I’d got about thirty for insulting a boy at the pool and kicking his nuts. There were even some attenuating circumstances, I think. But this time? If Gina had a sense of measure, this time she would really spank me good.

Honest to her word, she did.

The hairbrush rose and fell with deadly accuracy and it had a tremendous impact on me – every pun intended! Each smack would sear right through my bum cheeks, lighting a fire that was hotter by the second, widespread and uncompromising. I wasn’t a petite boy, rather average for my age I’d say, but that evil thing still covered more than half of my whole backside with one single swat.

Again, I soon stopped counting the smacks. The burn was almost intolerable, it hurt so much I could barely believe it! They just kept falling, over and over again, and I painfully realised once again that when she’s wielding an implement, Gina spanked faster. If it was out of compassion because she didn’t want to prolong my agony, or rather because she thought it was more effective to have your bottom take fire all at once, well, I suppose I’ll never know. Suffice to say I was in complete and excruciating agony from the very first smack of that darn hairbrush to the very last.

That last smack was long to come, though.

Gina made a point to spank me thoroughly. ‘Good, long and hard’ as she always said. I couldn’t help but dance under the hairbrush, bucking and twisting and moving about in every direction. My jeans and pants couldn’t resist such struggle and off they flew, right across the room.

Not even the wildest struggle could take my flaming bum out of harm’s way, though. Gina made sure of that by first pressing down harder on the small of my back; then, seeing that it wasn’t enough, she stopped for a second, repositioned me and circled my waist with her free arm. She disposed of my body at a narrower angle, and with that and her arm blocking my every attempt, I couldn’t reach back even if I tried. The one time I did succeed, she smacked my fingers with the hairbrush, definitely not as hard as she was smacking my bottom, but it still made me not want to repeat the experience, and I genuinely tried to stay put.

Again I bellowed and cried and yelled and, oh, I think I did and said everything coming to my mind, but to no avail. Gina just kept spanking, on and on, for such a long time I couldn’t even realise. Objectively, a few minutes. But it seemed like an eternity to me. Duh.

And ironically, I had another brief out-of-body experience. I thought of hiding in the closet and watching me get the spanking of my young life. I would see my body writhe in supreme agony, and my cheeks bouncing under the attack of the hairbrush, turning first red, then scarlet, then eventually crimson as nasty circles of purple and white formed in the centre of each.

But as soon as that ‘vision’ was over, I was back over Gina’s knee, just a little boy of twelve who has behaved horrendously and who’s paying his dues in the most painful way. And who’s tired of fighting: at long last I was so exhausted that to keep up such a resistance was simply not an option anymore. It’s not that the will to fight had been spanked out of me... but such tiredness, such aching of my every muscle didn’t allow me much more than lie there and take it, crying and sobbing hard like a toddler. So that’s just what I did, balling my fists and bawling my eyes out.

Obviously, that’s when Gina stopped.

I continued my antics for quite a while, weeping miserably in the comforter, but knowing that it was over was reassuring at least. An impressive pain dominated my bottom. It was like a fountain of pain constantly erupting liquid fire, pouring unmercifully all over my scorched buttocks, sit-spots and start of thighs. The fact that Gina had spared the actual backs of my thighs was little or no consolation. That had been by far the hardest spanking I had ever received, and that I would ever receive in my life.

Sometimes you don’t really realise the importance of an event the moment it’s happening, but I can assure you it felt every bit of atrocious as it was, right there and then even.

I’m not sure how I long I lay there before I got up. Probably a few minutes, or maybe just a few seconds, I wouldn’t know. Gina stroke my back all the time, whispering that it was over and I had been good and all that. Finally I found it in my to try and stand, and it worked, though my knees felt like jelly. I was exhausted. I looked at my hands and arms and they were pale, probably to counterpart my face and nether cheeks blushing so deep. I continued to cry as I reached back and touched my bottom, but again, only for a little while. Better to let it cool off some first.

Gina hugged me tight and I welcomed it. I sobbed on her shoulders as she petted my hair.

“It’s okay honey. I’m sorry it was that hard, but it was necessary. You’ve been very good and I love you, and we can forget about all this now, okay?” The usual thing they say.

What’s funny is that I knew those things very well, but one of those was a lie: a spanking isn’t over when it’s over. I already knew I’d have a hard time sitting for several hours at least, if not for a few days, and that would remind me of the spanking all the time. In a way, the spanking would continue.

“Okay...” I mumbled. “I’m sorry!”

“I know. It’s okay. None of that now.”

Eventually she broke the hug, and stood from the bed herself. I caught one last look of the ominous hairbrush before Gina gently led me to the corner between the closet and the bookcase. I planted my nose between the two walls, and my toes too, and I stood there, my sobbing slowly reducing to gentler crying, calming down eventually.

“Stand there a few minutes, okay? So you’ll cool off. Then we can talk. I’ll be in the bathroom.”

“Okay...”

She kissed the back of my head and walked out.

The moment I heard the bathroom door click and the key turn in the keyhole, the closet opened.

Nicky walked out and hugged me so tight I stopped breathing. I returned the hug, and cried on her shoulder. I soon got it under control though, because hey, I was still da man of da house, wasn’t I.

“I’m fine,” I whispered. Then I looked up at her, and she had copious tears in her eyes as well.

“Haley I’m so sorry!” she said, in an low voice too.

“‘s okay... I deserved it.”

“Yes but... geeze! I don’t think I’ve ever saw her spank that hard!”

We detached and my hands went to cover my privates to preserve that little bit of dignity I still had. Nicky blushed let out a tiny giggle at that, but looked away and tried not to embarrass me further.

“Yours wasn’t like that?” I asked.

She shook her head, but then seemed thoughtful. She gently made me turn around, and gasped at the close-up sight of what must have been a quite well-marked bottom.

“Nope, mine wasn’t like that. But I hadn’t lied and done all that stuff.” Her look was kinda reproving and it was my turn to blush some more.

“Oh well.”

She looked around and hurriedly grabbed her sweater, shoes and schoolbag from within the closet. “I better not be found here. Mum’s probably wondering why I’m not home on time from school.”

“Tell her there was a show to watch,” I snickered, trying to sound brave.

Nicky stifled a chuckle as she put on the sweater.

“Hope you don’t get in trouble, Nic... When I saw the failing grade I... kinda knew I was in for it, and... thought you’d like to... you know... but maybe it wasn’t a good idea...”

“Nah. I’ll say I was chatting. You okay, you sure?”

“I’m fine. Hey, nothing’s happened!”

She gave me a *very* generous eye roll that said ‘yeah right’, and it made me smile. But my smile vanished as she leant forward and placed her lips on mine. I returned the kiss this time, and it lasted a little longer than our first. When we detached, none of us wanted to stop looking in the other’s eyes.

Nicky bit on her lower lip. “Next time you can hide in my closet...” she whispered.

“Okay... thanks... but I hope you don’t get it.”

She gave me the sweetest look. “But, it may happen, and... well... if you like to see me get it, then I hope it does, and... oh you know what I mean!”

“Oh... yeah... I think I do... you mean it was cool for you to see?”

She gulped. “Yeah... I l-liked it...” she whispered, then immediately added: “but I was so sorry!”

“It’s okay, really... I’d enjoy it too...”

“Thanks......... I...... well...” she seemed to be wanting to say something, but didn’t.

With one more kiss, she turned away and ran on tip-toes, her light gymnast’s bare feet barely audible on the carpet, and I turned back to face the corner. Right there and then I knew I loved her.

– The End –

This story does not necessarily represent the author’s point of view about anything. It is simply a work of fiction . The characters herein portrayed are invented and do not resemble reality to the best of the author’s knowledge. This account is entirely fictitious . Any similarities to other persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

This story is written for the sane amusement of adult readers. It does not intend harm and does not promote violence of any kind, including spanking. No offence is meant to any group, ethnicity or individuals.

The author does in no way endorse the non-consensual disciplinary spanking of actual children and / or teenagers.

Copyright © 2004 Haley Brimley . Contact for information and / or feedback.