Her Punishment, Part II The Bath Brush, a tale by HBW (HairBrushWielder)

I stand in the corner feeling the weight of the bath brush in my hand, waiting for him to return to finish my spanking. I am alternately impatient for, and dreading, his return. On the one hand, I am wanting to get this punishment over with as soon as possible, on the other hand, I know how much this damned bath brush will hurt once it is applied to my bottom.

At this moment, I am scared of what is going to happen when he returns, but I am not scared of him. If I were scared of him, I would not be with him. I love him and trust him to do just what I need, and can handle, and not cross that line. We do have a safe word, of course, but I have never had to use it. He seems so intuitive, even when whaling on my bottom, he seems to know when to stop, how to bring me to the brink of my limit, and then end the spanking, before crashing over. I, of course, hope that one day he will take me to my limit and make me safe word, just so I know exactly where it is, among other reasons, but hopefully not today, not in this situation, that my mouth has gotten me into.

As the minutes slowly crawl by in the corner, I begin to think of how I treated him today. He is very self-deprecating, to the point where he picks on himself, even before I can start. He lets me get away with way too much for the most part, and sometimes I take advantage of that. Today was one of those days. I started nit picking at him for small trivial matters, and then called him a few fairly nasty names, all in fun of course, but even I can admit I went too far.  I saw his expression change from enjoyment, to hurt about halfway through my fun, but that still didn't stop me.

The other sign I decided not to notice, is that when his feelings get hurt, he shuts down.  He doesn't return my verbal jabs, he just hushes and doesn't say a word. Sometimes, not always, he slumps down a little, lowering his head, just taking my remarks, and it takes him a while to start talking again.

Even though I know all this, and I know I was in the wrong, I found myself suprised when he turned me over his knee for the beginning of this spanking. I was almost relieved as I found myself sprawling across, wanting the guilt of hurting him to be relieved.

I think of how much I love him, and how much he loves me, as I hear him approaching me from behind. I gulp a little, as quietly as possible, hoping he can't hear me, as he places his hand on my wrist and starts to lead me out of the corner. 

He takes me back to the couch, sits down, and helps me back across his lap.  He tells me how he is disappointed in my behavior today, and that hurts my heart even more than the bathbrush will soon hurt my bottom. I decide to make up for my actions, by taking my well deserved spanking as compliantly as possible.

He rests the bath brush on the small of my back. I gasp and almost jump a little at the coolness of it. I think of how ironic it is that this cool brush will be lighting a fire in my bottom in just a minute or so. That irony is short lived however, as he gives me a flurry of hard stinging hand spanks, to re-awake the smoldering in my sit spot.

I gasp and hold as still as possible, gritting my teeth, trying to keep from crying out. If I cry out this early, he will probably ease up much sooner than I deserve him to.  So, I take the spanking as quietly as I can, knowing that I need a thorough spanking for my actions earlier in the day.

He takes the bath brush off my back and rubs my bottom with it.  I hope it leaves it there for a while, but all too soon, he removes it. I crane my neck a little, taking a peek, and see him raise that brush up in the air. I close my eyes and brace for the impact.

The bath brush lands on my right cheek, firmly, making it scream in protest, I can barely let out a gasp, when it lands on my left cheek, making me buck on his lap, trying to crawl away, anywhere, just to get away from that nasty sting.

I feel him grip my waist more firmly, bringing the brush down hard and fast, landing all up and down my bottom. I squeal and kick, my protestations wordless, my bottom sucking in, and flaring out, trying to escape the sting, the thoughts of how well I am going to take my spanking disappating with the growing pain in my nether regions.

He stops, allowing me catch my breath, rubbing my bottom with the brush again. I collect my thoughts, forcing myself to breathe normally, then gather my resolve, promising myself to take the next salvo of spanks in a way that will make him proud of me.

He lifts the brush again, and I raise my bottom to meet it. I am not sure how long my resolve will last, but I am determined to take at least the first few swats with my bottom as perfectly positioned for him as possible. I close my eyes and grab the couch cushion, burying my nails in, in anticipation of the next crack of the brush.

The next flurry of spanks come raining down on my bottom, reigniting the fire.  I concentrate on keeping my bottom jutted out, gasping from the pain and effort to stay in position, fighting my body's desire to get as far away from that brush as possible.

Again, he stops, this time putting the brush down and rubbing my bottom with his hand.  My sore bottom can feel his calluses, and they are irritating, but not nearly as irritating as that nasty bath brush.

I can hear him speaking, but fire in my bottom is keeping me from being able to concentrate on his actual words, I pick up a few things here and there, the words, "love, proud, naughty, sassy," and a few others make it through, but not much else. Unfortunately, the pain subsides enough for me to hear his last words all too clearly. "One more flurry."

I groan to myself, raising my bottom again, waiting for the last flurry to begin and more importantly, end. He raises the brush again, and I brace myself.

The last flurry of spanks is harder and faster than any salvo I can remember him giving me.  Unable to control myself, I try to crawl off his lap, but he just calmly tightens his grip on my waist, and lifts his leg from under me, then uses it to pin my thighs down. He starts scolding me, I am not sure what he is saying, but I yell, "Yes Sir!" as many times as I can, hoping its the right answer. Agreeing with anything he says to get him to stop swinging that bath brush is all I care about right now.

Finally, he puts the brush down again, and rubs my bottom. Slowly I regain my composure, my heart slows to a normal pace, my breath gradually becomes easier to find.  I am however pretty much numb to anything besides the throbbing in my bottom.

He helps me up, and holds me against him, my knees wobbling a little, but that subsides after a few seconds.  I tell him how sorry I am for hurting his feelings and he just shushes me, by putting his finger against my lips.

Suddenly, his hand closes around my wrist again, as he leads me back into the corner. I start to protest then stop myself, not wanting to provoke him into using that horrible bathbrush again.  I allow myself to be led into the corner, then gasp as he hands me the strap. I realize that we are still not done.

He leaves me in the corner and walks into the bedroom.  I stand there, thoughts racing through my head, wondering what will happen when he returns.

End of Part II Copyright © HBW