granddadandson

GRAND.D.A.D. , D.A.D. and son - Part 4

GRAND.D.A.D. , D.A.D. and son

A Story Set in the Brave New World of D.A.D.

Characters
Grand.D.A.D.: Tom Polley
D.A.D.: Mike Polley
son: Mike jr.

Chapter 4: The Hairbrush and Its Significance

Tom held the hairbrush in his fist for a moment and studied the bottom uplifted on his left knee. It was well-reddened, so he would have to use the brush judiciously, but the boy had to have the hairbrush.

Tom's right hand was on his grandson's neck and Mike jr. was whimpering, but no longer crying.   Tom thought about what he wanted to accomplish he knew what that was. He needed to reduce his grandson and then build him back up back to a better boy, an obedient boy who would contribute and not just consume.

The reducing had to be skillful so as not to completely break the spirit. Taming a colt was an art form, and Tom Polley was a D.A.D.-certified artists.

Tom tapped Mike jr.'s bottom with the back of the hairbrush. The skin was already tightening this must have been the boy's first real spanking. If Tom was going to 'hairbrush' him, he would have to prepare the child's bottom for the brush.

Tom lifted the surprised Mike jr. from his lap and, still holding him by the neck, lead him across the room to the corner.

None too gently, Tom pushed Mike into the corner and said, "Stand there with your hands on your head! Don't even think of discussing it!"

Mike gave a barely audible whimper and obeyed his grandfather. Tom smiled fondly at the spectacle of the young boy, pants down around his ankles, hands on head, and shiny red bare bottom in the corner. He loved the boy and he would straighten him out.

Tom went back to his room where another 'boy'   his own son had cried himself to sleep on the bed.

Tom gently kissed the top of Mike sr.'s head and got the bottle of After Spank baby oil that he had put on the dresser. He went back to Mike jr.'s room and sat on the bed. Here was where he started conditioning the boy.

"Michael," Tom said, "come over to me and lie across my knees."

Mike jr. turned in the corner and Tom immediately saw the look of horror in his eyes. It was one thing to suffer the indignity of being put over your grandfather's knee, it was quite another to put yourself in that position.

Tom maintained a stern, determined countenance and patted his leg impatiently. The hairbrush still lay on the bed, just within hand's reach.

Mike jr. opened his mouth, he was clearly going to try to negotiate, and then closed it again. He walked over to his grandfather and dropped his hands from his head.

"Who said you could lower your hands?" Tom asked. He swung his palm and gave the boy a CRACK across his backside. "Leave those hands up there and get over my lap now!"

Mike jr. did a little quickstep from the burning sting of his grandfather's hand on his bare bottom. Then he stood to the left of his grandfather's left leg and did the only thing he could do, he fell across Tom's lap in the gesture of complete surrender that Tom had orchestrated.

Tom received the boy with both hands and quicky adjusted him so that his bottom was one again raised and split and his upper half hung downwards.

Tom poured a good amount of After Spank in his hands and rubbed it between his palms to warm it a bit. Then he began spreading it over Mike jr.'s hot bottom and thighs. He carefully worked the oil into the boy's bottom and, almost at once, the redness diminished into pinkness.

Tom poured out more of the After Spank and, using the tips of his fingers, worked it all along the boy's open crack and into his rectum. Mike jr. sobbed at the contact, because his boy opening had really been very well reddened by Tom's hand, but the After Spank did its amazing work and soon the boy's orifice had lost most of its swelling and bright redness.

It was time for the hairbrush!

Still rubbing the After Spank all around his grandson's bare bottom and between his firm young butt cheeks, Tom began to scolding Mike jr.

"You're going to be a fine big boy, son," Tom said, "a fine boy. Even if granddad has to take down your pants and spank you three times a day....And I'll do it, boy. Your grandfather is up for that sport, you can be sure of that.   And I've got the right equipment for it too." He tapped Tom's backside with the brush. "And you've got the right equipment for it," he chuckled, continuing to rub the boy's bare bottom.

"Now, you are going to get the hairbrush, junior! You're going to get granddad's hairbrush until you are a very good, very sorry little boy.   And when you feel the back of my brush on your little backside, you just remember that granddad keeps the hairbrush ready for you when you need it and that he won't spare its use if you get out of line. Do you understand me, son?"

"Yes!" Mike jr. replied.

Tom said, "You forgot something, son."

Mike jr, hesitated and then Tom heard an audible gulp, "Ye-es, sir," the boy said.

Tom smiled and calmly said, "Now you get the hairbrush."

And Tom Polley gave his grandson the hairbrush!

While young Mike jr. experienced the unforgettable impact of the wooden paddle of the brush on his bare bottom, Tom watched the boy's struggles and thought about the implement in his hand.

Children saw the hairbrush as a possession of adults.   Children were too busy, too active, to care about grooming their hair.     A few girls and boy might have their own hairbrush, but it wasn't the same tool. D.A.D.'s brush on his dresser was large, larger than any child's, and the brush was always made of wood and had stiff, straight bristles. The handle was slightly longer too and fit perfectly into a Man's hand.

This simple domestic item, taken up in a father's fist, was transformed immediately into an awe-inspiring symbol of a Father's authority over his child.

"I brush my hair with one side, and I brush you with the other," Tom said matter-of-factly to his weeping grandson, as the spanking continued.

Two bright red ovals on each of Mike jr.'s cheeks were testement to the hairbrush. Tom spanked those two tender spots again and again and again. Mike desperately tried to shift, but Tom would not let him.

Mike jr. had lost his tough veneer in his extremity, and he could only toss his head, and cry loudly in an attempt to find an outleft for his suffering.

Tom stopped for a moment, pulled out a handkerchief and held it to his grandson's nose.

"Blow!" he commanded.

Mike jr., chocked, sobbed, and blew his nose into the handkerchief his grandfather held.

Tom rigorously wiped the boy's nose, turned his head back down to the floor and continued the spanking.

"Grandpa please!" Tom called out, between his tearful wails, "I....I can't take anymmore. OOOOOH! It hurts too bad!"

Tom said, "Six more then!" and walloped the boy six more times while Mike jr. sobbed and kicked frantically.

Then Tom lifted the boy from his lap and had him stand in front of him, right between his knees. Mike jr. instantly took hold of his burning backside and had his kuckles rapped with the brush for doing so.

"Hands on head, boy!" Tom commanded.

"Ooooowwwww!" Mike wailed miserably, but he complied.

Tom turned the boy around and studied his backside. Expertly, his fingers felt the skin. The boy was well-spanked. His backside red and deeper red in some places. So far there was no bruising, though Mike's bottom had begun to swell and tighten.

"You haven't gotten spanked enough yet, son," Tom said. "I'm going to have to put you back over my knee."

"Noooooo! Grandpa! Pleeeeeeassseee!" Mike wailed, and large tears ran down his stricken face.

Tom felt truly miserable at the boy's despair, but he steeled himself. This was how his own son had failed the boy he mustn't do the same.

Tom stood up so that he towered over Mike jr. The miserable boy looked up at his grandfather for help....for mercy. Tom smiled softly and took the boy into his strong, big arms.

After the pain of the spanking, his grandfather's embrace felt like ecstasy to Mike jr. It was the complete antithesis of the discipline and Mike relaxed into his grandfather's chest and cried like a baby.

Tom let him cry for awhile and then, while he still held the boy close to his body he said quietly, "I have to finish your punishment, son. I have to put you back on my lap and complete your spanking. I'm not doing it to be cruel I'm doing it because you need it, Michael."

Tom held Michael a little away and tilted the boy's face up to his own. Suddenly Tom's face, capped by its thick white hair, seemed to be the most loving face the boy had ever seen.

"I'm putting you back in my lap now Michael," Tom said again. And he sat down and put an unresisting Michael back across his knees.

"This part will be very hard for you, son," Tom said. "You can hold on to my leg, but I want you to remember that you earned this and you'll earn it again if you aren't well-behaved.   I love you too much to let you grow up anyway but the best. So, here's for the best!" And Tom Polley plied his hairbrush once again.

      *      *       *      *            *      *            *      *            *      *            *      *            *      *

That evening, the Polley 'men' had supper together in the dining room. They had prepared the meal together in the kitchen and, although it had been a struggle to keep adjusting his attitutude, Mike jr. had done a commendable job of joining in and presenting a pleasant exterior.

His own paddling, seemed to have brought Mike sr. back to a complete recollection of his D.A.D. training and its deep and vital significance.

Mike jr. was surprised when his father announced that it was time for the boy's bath which turned out to mean that the boy would be washed by his father. Mike jr. was even more surprised to discover that his grandfather was a welcome participant in the event and even took part in it by shampooing his grandson's hair.

At first, Mike jr. had been horrified when his father undressed him in the bathroom with his grandfather standing by with his hands on his hips as though he were supervising. But then, at some point, perhaps it was because his father and grandfather seemed to be so delighted with their boy, Mike jr. and relaxed a little. After all, it's hard to be the center of such admiring attention and not enjoy it.

There was an unpleasant aspect to the bathroom scene when, after the bath, Tom said, "I think the boy needs a good physic before bed. He's had a dramatic day and needs to be stabilized."

Mike jr. had never been given an enema, but he knew what it was.

He had started to offer resistance to lying across his father's lap and having it administered by his grandfather, but he had dropped that when his dad had calmly said, "Get the hairbrush!"

Bursting into tears, Mike jr. fetched his father's brush without protest, but when he brought it to Michael, Michael put it on the sink and said, "One word of argument, and it's to bed with the brush! Understand?"

Mike jr. nodded.

"Now lie over my lap," his father said, and Mike jr. obeyed.

His father separated the boy's legs and lifted his right foot so that Mike jr.'s bottom was upraised and opened. Mike sr. accepted the vaseline that his father handed to him and quickly, and expertly, lubricated his son's rectum. Then he held the boy well opened while Tom inserted the banana-yellow syringe.

Mike jr. gasped and trembled as liquid filled his lower stomach, but his dad patted his bottom and murmured words of encouragement.

Tom gave the boy two liters of soapy warm evacuant and Mike was made to lie on his father's lap and retain it for fifteen painful minutes. Mike jr. was crying with discomfort, when his father finally helped him up and put him on the toilet.

Then, to Mike jr.'s mortification, both men continued to stand over him and supervise what followed.

Mike jr. was exhausted when the enema had done its work, and he was given a glass of orange juice, put into a sleeping shirt (no underpants allowed) and placed in his bed.

Then came a wonderful time when the two most important figures in his life, his father and his grandfather, took it in turns to read aloud from Jules Verne's 20,000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA.

Michael jr. fell asleep in a different, brave new world.

THE END