“Bring Mommy’s Hairbrush” by Ms. N

One of my San Francisco spankees, Ms. N, wrote several short spanking stories during our virtual sessions and asked if I would post them on my blog. This story is a continuation of “If I Were Mrs. Taylor’s Daughter.”

“Bring Mommy’s Hairbrush” by Ms. N

It had been about three months since I received the hardest and most humiliating spanking of my life from Mrs. Taylor. For the first couple weeks after, I was incredibly awkward around her, but she seemed completely unfazed by what happened and continued to make a point of saying, “Hello” to me whenever we saw each other. It wasn’t exactly a friendly “Hello,” it was more of an, “I’m keeping my eye on you ‘Hello.’”

I definitely honored my word to not tell anyone about what I’d witnessed that day.  I had been tempted a few times to share some of the details with my two best friends, but the threat of another bare bottom spanking with the wooden spoon helped keep my mouth shut.  I did wonder if it was common for wives to spank their husbands though.  I wondered if my mom spanked my dad, but then the thought of him lying naked over her lap made me sick to my stomach, so I pushed the thought out of my head.

I had never been punished by my parents like I was by Mrs. Taylor that day.  When I was younger, I would receive the occasional swat at the grocery store for being bratty or at the mall if I strayed too far away from my mom, but never anything like I received over Mrs. Taylor’s lap in their kitchen. Despite everything, I admittedly still sort of obsessed over her.

The tone on my phone sounded.  My friend finished the virtual invitation for the house party we were planning the weekend my parents were going to be out of town.  My boyfriend’s brother was 22 and agreed to buy us a few kegs and the rest would be BYOB.  My friends and I had been saving our money working weekends at In-N-Out Burger in preparation for the party. 

I reviewed the invitation and messaged my friend to go ahead and send it out. The party would be on Saturday night in two weeks.  My parents were going on a pontoon boat with two other couples and would be leaving Friday morning and returning Sunday evening.  In addition to having the party, I told my boyfriend, Kurt, that he could spend the night.  We hadn’t yet had sex, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready, but still liked the thought of a sleepover with him.

By the time the Friday before the party rolled around, about 50 people had RSVP’d.  My girlfriends and I were so excited and had arranged for Kurt’s brother to drop off the kegs around 8:00 PM on Saturday night.  My parents were still packing their bags when I left for school Friday morning, and my mom reminded me the contact information for the pontoon boat company was on the refrigerator and that they would have cell coverage if I needed anything. 

My girlfriends came over Saturday night around 7:00, and we started putting up some decorations and queuing up music on JQBX.  Kurt and his brother showed up at 8:00, and his brother tapped the kegs for us and showed us how to pour.  Kurt’s brother then headed out and said he would be by sometime tomorrow morning to pick up the kegs and return them to the liquor store.

Our friends began to arrive around 9:00 and by 10:00, the first keg was done.  We had the music cranked and I was enjoying sitting on my boyfriend’s lap while he gave me my third hickey.  He knew I liked being marked this way and he was happy to oblige.  At 11:30 nobody had left and we were all getting pretty hammered.  Some people had started to take food out of our cabinets and refrigerator.  I didn’t really care, I was having a good time and thought maybe I was ready to have sex with Kurt.

My friend came over and tapped me on the shoulder, “Mads, there’s someone at the front door, and they said they need to talk to you.” 

“Who is it?” I partially slurred.

“I don’t know. It’s a woman and a man and they said you needed to come to the door immediately,” my friend replied back.

“Jesus,” I said loudly as I got up from the couch and stumbled a bit to the front door.

I saw that it was Mr. and Mrs. Taylor standing outside looking very serious. “Madilynn, do you know what time it is?” Mrs. Taylor questioned.

“No,” I responded probably a bit too sarcastically.

“It’s 11:30 and it’s time for you to finish your party and send everyone home.  I’m assuming your parents are gone for the weekend and have no idea about your party,” Mrs. Taylor stated very directly.

“I may have mentioned it to them, I can’t quite remember at the moment,” I said, attempting to sound sober.

At that point Mrs. Taylor walked past me and into the house.  She closed my laptop, cutting off the music, and announced, “Ok, everyone, the party is over!  You all have 10 minutes to collect whatever you brought with you and to leave.  If you don’t have a designated driver, speak with my husband, Mr. Taylor, and he will arrange for an Uber to take you home.”

Everyone stood in disbelief for a moment, then followed instructions knowing she meant business.  Mrs. Taylor then walked back over to where I was standing and swaying slightly. Kurt came over too and grabbed my hand.  “Who are you?” Mrs. Taylor asked.

“I’m Kurt, Madi’s boyfriend,” he said, slurring a bit.

“Come with me you two,” she directed.

We followed her into the kitchen and she opened the cabinet under our sink handing each of us a large kitchen garbage bag.  “You two need to start cleaning up now!  I want every red drink cup, beer can, chip bag, napkin picked up and put in your bags in 30 minutes!,” she instructed firmly.

I made a huffing noise and an obnoxious eye roll which I could tell Mrs. Taylor did not appreciate.  Kurt and I stumbled over each other as we picked up all the trash as Mr. Taylor coordinated the Uber rides.  There were some spilled drinks that I would have to clean up in the morning, but Kurt and I finished picking up all the garbage in 30 minutes as instructed.  By that time, all my friends had left and we were alone with the Taylors.

We carried our full plastic bags to the front door.  “Kurt, Mr. Taylor will help you dump the garbage bags, then it’s time for you to go too,” Mrs. Taylor stated.

“Kurt is staying the night,” I said, not appreciating Mrs. Taylor telling my boyfriend what to do.

“The hell he is!” Mrs. Taylor responded glaring at me.

I didn’t say anything else, but did let another exasperated huffing sound escape; I could feel Mrs. Taylor’s stare intensify.  She leaned over to Mr. Taylor and said something to him in a low voice, it sounded like, “Bring Mommy’s hairbrush,” but I couldn’t quite hear and figured I misheard. Mr. Taylor nodded.  Kurt gathered his backpack, we kissed each other quickly and he left.  Mrs. Taylor and I were alone together. 

She turned to face me with her arms crossed. My bravery quickly evaporated as the scolding began. “Young lady, do you realize your parents could be liable if any of the underage drinkers here tonight were to get into a car accident? I am noticing there is a severe lack of discipline in this house, and if you were my daughter, trust me you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week if you pulled something like this!”

We stood in silence for a few moments as I shifted uncomfortably with eyes staring at the floor. She resumed her scolding, but using a much harsher tone and staring intensely at me.  “Apparently, the punishment you received over my knee several months ago did not resolve your issues with maturity, and I plan to address your ongoing naughty and, quite frankly, reprehensible behavior once and for all!”

“I’m really sorry, Mrs. Taylor,” I slurred slightly as I started to feel sick to my stomach.

Mr. Taylor then walked back in the front door and handed Mrs. Taylor what was unmistakably a silver plated hairbrush. I swallowed hard. She told him she would be home in a little while and he shouldn’t wait up. He kissed her on the cheek and walked out, closing the door behind him.

She turned back to me and directed, “I want you to go upstairs, brush your teeth, wash your face, put on your pajamas and wait for me in your bedroom.  I will be up in 10 minutes.  You are going to get a good bottom warming, young lady!”

Now I felt really sick to my stomach.  I think it was a bad combination of alcohol and nerves. I let out a nervous sigh and turned to head upstairs in disbelief that I was 18 and still being treated like a little girl. Apparently I wasn’t moving quite fast enough and received three hard swats from Mrs. Taylor where I stood.  That made me move faster.

I walked quickly, but shakily, up the stairs and down the hall to the bathroom.  I would have otherwise taken time to admire my hickeys while brushing my teeth, but my impending punishment was the only thing I could focus on. I considered the option of slipping out my bedroom window to safety, but knew this would just be prolonging the inevitable.  I washed and dried my face, then headed down to my bedroom.

It was still warm in the evenings so I put on my tank top and pajama shorts and sat on my bed. I waited for what seemed an excruciatingly long time before I heard Mrs. Taylor walking up the stairs and down the hall.  My stomach lurched and I thought again about making a window escape. She walked into my bedroom and continued with her admonishing glare.  “Stand up!” she ordered.

I immediately obeyed and could feel my legs getting weaker as I started to breathe more heavily.  She sat down on my bed, grabbed my arm and yanked me unceremoniously over her lap.  She then set the hairbrush on the bed a few inches from my face. She reached a couple fingers under the elastic waistband of my pajama shorts and pulled them down to my ankles.  The same feelings of humiliation I experienced previously when she bared my bottom came flooding back.  Without saying another word, she picked up the hairbrush from the bed and rested her other hand on my upper back, securing me in place.  I knew I was about to get my second sound spanking in as many months and I was now fully sober. 

I thought the wooden spoon was painful, but it paled by comparison to the hairbrush which felt much heavier and painfully covered more of my bottom with each stinging spank.  I started squirming and involuntarily made an attempt to escape from her lap.  She put her right leg over my legs and locked her ankles together pulling me back into position.  “You’re not going anywhere, Miss!” she scolded.  

As before, the tears started to flow as the spanks rained down on my increasingly sore bottom. I was sure it was quite red at this point which added to my extreme embarrassment. She then moved the hairbrush smacks down to my upper thighs which made me cry out; the pain was searing.  I had never experienced anything that hurt so much and I felt completely helpless and vulnerable to do anything except take my punishment and hope it ended soon.

She grabbed my left hand and secured it behind my low back since I was really squirming at this point and she wanted to make sure I was firmly in place.  I clenched my fists trying not to cry uncontrollably, but I couldn’t help myself and began to sob like a little girl.  She began to spank me harder and faster, my poor bottom was on fire, the pain almost unbearable. She moved back to my sit spot with the brush and continued the hard, rhythmic spanks.  I stopped trying to resist and felt myself go limp feeling completely exhausted, unable to help my situation at all or to stop crying as the punishment continued.

I could finally feel the spanks getting lighter and was overcome by a sense of relief that this hellacious experience was hopefully almost over.  She gave me a few more light swats on my sit spot, then set the hairbrush back down on the bed close to my face.  She unlocked her ankles and moved her leg back under my hips.  She let go of my hand and moved my arm over my head so it was resting on the bed. I lay sobbing over her lap for a few minutes until I could feel her hand softly touching my hair. This act of gentleness after what I had been subjected to almost made me cry harder.  

“We’re done, Madi,” she said reassuringly as she stroked my hair, “It was obviously difficult for you to be punished like this and I know you will be more mindful of your actions moving forward. I will have to tell your parents about the party and how Mr. Taylor and I had to intervene.  I won’t tell them I disciplined you, but I am going to suggest they punish you by having you work in our yard for the next two weekends.”

I nodded and was finally getting my crying under control. I started to feel a little sleepy despite my aching bottom.  “I want you to get up, pull up your pajamas and stand in the corner.  You need to spend a few minutes by yourself thinking about why I had to punish you. I will be back shortly.”

She helped me to my feet and I pulled up my shorts.  My sore bottom distracted me from my embarrassment as she walked me to the corner by my bedroom door.  “Clasp your elbows behind your back,” she directed.

I stood facing the corner and thinking how much I wished I had just gone to a movie with Kurt. I knew I let things get out of hand at the party and understood I was being inconsiderate of the Taylors and my parents.  Mrs. Taylor came back into the room and handed me a glass of water. “Drink this, then into bed,” she instructed.

I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.  I drank the water down, then climbed into bed on my stomach. “Good night, Madi,” Mrs. Taylor said as she turned out the light.  I immediately fell into a deep sleep.

End

Smiles and Spanks, NaturallyGin.com