Untidy room = sore bottom

I recently told you all about the first time I used the hairbrush on my daughter Susana’s bottom – now I want to tell you about my son Julio’s initial encounter with the same instrument of correction.

It was a quiet day during the long summer school holidays. I had already rebuked Susana about the state of her bedroom that morning, and under threat of a spanking she had complied and done at least some basic tidying up – at least, the floor was no longer buried beneath piles of worn clothing!

I hadn’t had the chance to check Julio’s room at the time, so when he asked permission to go out for the afternoon with his friends, the first thing I did was check his bedroom. It was even worse than Susana’s – his used underpants were scattered across the floor, several of them displaying skid marks from where he hadn’t wiped his bottom properly. There were plates of half-eaten food too and in short, the whole room was disgusting.

Therefore I told Julio that he wouldn’t be going anywhere until he had cleaned up his bedroom. I gave him an extensive lecture, pointing out that his sister had only just escaped a sore bottom that morning for having a room far less worse than his.

Julio hung his head obediently and seemed to take his scolding with good grace, but as soon as my back was turned, he stuck his tongue out at me spitefully. I know he did this, because he forgot I could see his reflection in the dressing table mirror as I put some of his laundry away.

I was incensed. “You naughty, wicked boy! You come along with me, right now!” I grabbed his left hand and marched him to my bedroom. I had only just retrieved the hairbrush when there was a knock on the door. It was Susana, who had obviously heard the explosion of anger from upstairs and knew full well what was about to happen to her brother.

There was a strange flush of excitement on Susana’s face and she asked: “Can I watch?” I turned to her angrily. “Do you want your brother to watch while I take down your knickers and spank your bare backside too?” Susana hastily shook her head. “Then go – before I change my mind!” She scuttled off, closing the door behind her, leaving me to deal with my errant son.

I sat down on dressing table stool. “Come here,” I ordered. Obediently, he came to stand in front of me, and I lowered his trousers and underpants. Then, while he was bare-bottomed and fully aware that I had a good view of his privates too, I availed myself of a second lecture that made the first look like a mild telling-off for a toddler. As I scolded him, I smacked the back of the hairbrush against my hand, leaving him in no doubt about what was about to happen to him.

Finally, I put him cross my knee and began to whip him soundly with the brush. He cried like he had never done before but I didn’t stop until his buttocks were red all over from the punishment.

I stopped and he lay there weeping. Eventually, I put my hand gently on to his burning bottom and rubbed it comfortingly. “Now,” I asked, “are you going to be a a good boy and obey and respect your mother – or do we have to do this some more?” Naturally, he pleaded and begged not to be thrashed again, promising me the earth.

I stood him up again and re-covered his private parts. I hugged him and kissed him briefly on the lips. “Now, be a good boy and go and clean that room. If it’s not sparkling in 30 minutes, I will spank you again, understand?” He nodded and disappeared, wiping the tears from his eyes as he went.

About half an hour later we had a room inspection, and it goes without saying that his room was pretty much spotless. However, it wasn’t the last time I took the brush to his bare bottom – or Susana’s, for that matter.

Contributor: Laura

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