The girls and the hairbrush

I was born in Columbia (but moved to Spain with my family when I was 14) – this story comes from 1977, when I was just eight years old.

On this particular day my mother was going out shopping, but before she did, she told me: “Manuel, while I’m out I want you to tidy your room – it’s an absolute mess. If it’s not tidy by the time I get back from the shops, there will be big trouble, young man!”

Unfortunately, she had not been gone long before I heard some other boys playing football outside, and without thinking I went out to play with them – it was a more exciting choice than tidying my bedroom.

Some time later, I head my mother calling me. “Manuel, you come home right now!” It was then that I remembered about my room. With a sinking heart, I went back inside to face the music.

Not surprisingly, my mother proceeded to soundly scold me for my laziness. I promised to tidy my room immediately and begged for forgiveness, but my mother replied firmly: “It’s too late for that, young man. Now, you’re going to see what happens to disobedient boys!”

My mother took me into the living room and at down on a chair there. At that moment, my older sister arrived back in the house, with three of her female friends in tow.

My mother told them: “Girls, sit down please. Manuel is about to receive an important lesson and I think it will do you good to see what happens to naughty children too.”

She then turned to my sister: “Rebeca, can you please bring me the hairbrush that’s in my room while your brother takes off his shorts and underpants?” My sister smirked at my predicament and went to get the brush.

I, meanwhile, had the humiliation of baring my bottom and privates in front of the three other girls, who giggled as I got myself ready for my punishment. I was already naked from the waist down by the time Rebeca returned with the brush.

“Lie across my knee, Manuel!” I obeyed, then felt the coolness of my mother’s hand on my naked buttocks as she examined my behind. “You have a nice healthy pink bottom, young man,” she said (my face was much pinker at this description, though!) “but I’m going to turn it bright red now.”

I heard her pick up the hairbrush and then the first smarting spank landed on my right bum cheek. I wailed like a baby as the chastisement was delivered. I remember looking across at my sister and her friends at one point. They were obviously enjoying the show, giggling and pointing at my bare bottom as my mother spanked me thoroughly. The punishment seemed to go on forever, although it was probably only a couple of minutes.

By the time I was stood back on my feet my young buttocks were burning like I had sat on a hot stove. Through my tears, I heard my mother say: “Well, that seems to have done the trick. I think it’ll be a spanking with the brush every time you misbehave from now on, young man!”

I looked across at the girls, oblivious now to my genitals being on display. They were all grinning and it was evident that my sister in particular had enjoyed watching me get my bottom tanned.

This was by no means the last time I was put across my mother’s knee, and probably more than my fair share of spankings, as Rebeca then went on to occasionally inventing things I had ‘done wrong’ so she could see me being beaten again.

Contributor: Manuel

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