joel hairbrush

Joel Spanks Me With His Hairbrush P1

When I was fourteen, I got the hardest spanking I had ever gotten (up to that time) from my best friend.

Joel was a year and ahalf older than I was and quite a bit bigger. Not only was he about a head and a half taller, but he was brawny. I was only five foot six (never got taller) and very slim. I also had a face that just didn’t seem to want to reflect my newly acquired adolescence. At sixteen, I still managed to pay children’s prices at the movies at which I always went in as Joel’s little brother. It was at one of our trips to the movie, that Joel suddenly assumed an unexpected role that was to go on for several years to come.

We were going to see a somewhat adult film at a great old movie house on the Concourse, and the woman at the box office yelled at Joel for taking his little brother into that kind of movie. Without missing a beat, Joel grabbed me by the upper arm and yelled in my face, “What did I tell you! I told you this wasn’t a movie for you.” He turned to the lady and said. “He’s a good kid really, but sometimes he’s a brat. He told me that it was a Disney.”

The lady was taken in and shook her head and clicked her tongue. She craned over the ticket table and looked down at me. “That’s not nice,” she said, “you should respect your big brother.” Then she looked at Joel and said meaningfully, “And you should make him respect you.” “Oh, I’m going to,” Joel assured her. He leaned close to the ticket window and whispered (but not so low that I couldn’t hear him), “He’s getting a paddy-wackin’ when I get him home. Our dad doesn’t live with us, and mom says I’ve got to take care of the discipline.” The woman in the booth nodded and smiled her approval. “Do your duty,” she said.

Joel spit on the palms of his hand and rubbed them together. Then he actually took me by the ear and said, “You’re gonna be crying. Come on home” and started dragging me, wincing down the street. When we were half-way down the block, Joel let go of my ear and took a pipe and tobacco pouch out of his back pocket (he had taken up the habit the summer before and he and his various briars were inseparable). “What the hell was that!” I yelled rubbing my ear. He had pinched it so hard that I couldn’t even get out of his grasp without ripping my ear off. Joel calmly dug his pipe into the tobacco and began packing the bowl. “What was what?!” he said. “You are a brat! You do need a good whackin’!”

“What!” I was shocked, but - of course - I was also immediately stimulated. Joel had always been the dominant persona in our friendship, but it had never taken this kind of turning. I was excited, nervous and angry, all at once. “You are a brat!” he said, emphasizing every word. Then, he put his pipe in the corner of his mouth and calmly commenced lighting it, never even looking at my flushed and excited face. When he had the pipe going, he took it out of his mouth, blew smoke up in the air and pointed the stem at me. “Here it is, Sandy,” he said. “You are a spoiled brat. You’re an only kid; you get everything you want and you manipulate everyone. You don’t work nearly as hard as you should in school. You’ve got the smarts, but your grades are shit. I don’t have the smarts and I have to bust my ass.”

What he was saying was true, but I hated hearing it. I was always managing to have most things my way. I had excellent verbal skills and a good understanding of people; other people. I guess I didn’t have such a good understanding of myself.

“You’re a good friend, or at least you could be, if you weren’t so self-centered. You need discipline. You need someone to break you down and build you up again and I care about you enough to do it. Tell me if what I’m saying isn’t true.”

“It’s true!”

“Good,” Joel said, “clamping down on his pipe with his molars. “You’re on the right path. Go home and pack an overnight bag and tell your parents your sleeping at my house for a couple of days. My parents are away visiting my brother and we can work on an attitude adjustment.” I must have looked hesitant, because Joel let go of his pipe with his right hand and reached out and grabbed the front of my belt. I gasped and pulled back, but he yanked me forward. “Do it,” he said, “and don’t bother packing pajamas. I have something for you at my house.”

We took the bus home and went our separate ways. Joel said that he had to get ready for me. I went home with my ears burning and my heart knocking. I had never been so excited and scared in my life. It felt wonderful and terrible. I was so flushed with emotion that I don’t know how I kept my mother from noticing, but somehow I did. I packed my knapsack with several changes of clothes and underwear, but I remembered not to pack pajamas. Everyone wore pajamas in my neighborhood; what did Joel mean when he said he had something for me?

Joel answered the door with a steaming pipe in his mouth. He had been smoking a classic straight briar earlier in the day, but now he had a curved pipe in his teeth.

“Come on in, little brother,” he said with a smile tilting the corner of his mouth.

We went upstairs to the room that Joel shared with his brother Phil, who was away at school. On Phil’s bed was a pair of pajamas all laid out for me. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw them. They were a pair of Doctor Dentons, the kind with feet and a drop seat in the back. I hadn’t known they even made them for people my age.

It was only about five p.m. but Joel gestured to them with his pipe and said,

“Go ahead, Sandy, put them on.”

“I don’t.....” I started, but I never got a word further. Joel’s face clouded over and he grabbed me roughly by the arm and flipped me around. Then, he grabbed the back of my neck with his left had, put his foot up on the bed, and forced me to bend over his knee. Then he walloped me on the backside with all his might. At first it just felt jolting, but after about five whacks, the heat began to build and the muscles of my backside began to burn. I wriggled and cried out, but Joel gripped my neck harder and didn’t pay any attention to my noise. He whaled away at me until his hand must have started to hurt and then he threw me off of his knee and onto the bed.

He walked to the door and said, over his shoulder,not looking back, “Put on your P.J.’s and come downstairs. Don’t make me come up and get you.”

I lay on the bed arching my back to keep my bottom from resting on the mattress and felt completely disoriented. I had not enjoyed what Joel had just done. The roughness and suddenness of the whole thing had removed any possible eroticism from the spanking and now my backside stung and felt hot and I felt rebellious. Part of me responded to Joel’s forcefulness and part of me mutinied. I grabbed the ‘stupid’ pajamas and headed downstairs.

Joel was sitting in the living room watching t.v. and relighting his pipe. He glanced up from his concentration over the pipe bowl and saw the denton’s in my hand. He scowled and kept puffing.

“I admit to some of the things you said about me,” I began, “but I’m not going to put these on.”

Joel moved his pipe to the side of his mouth and got up. At first he looked so angry that I actually felt afraid, but then, as he came right up to me, his face softened. He reached out and took my chin in his hand.

“Don’t you see, Sandy,” he said in a low, deep voice, “you’re still being manipulative.” I choked up. Why? If he had been angry at me, I think I would have been ready for a fight, but his gentleness undid me completely. The boy in me came forward and my eyes watered up. I couldn’t understand my own feelings.

“Come on,” he said, smoke gently rising from his pipe. “I’m going to take you upstairs and sort this all out.” Joel ruffled my hair and actually reached out and took my hand; as if I were a little boy. He lead me back upstairs to the bedroom and sat down on the bed.

He opened his legs and pulled the front of my belt so that I was standing right between his open knees.

“You need straightening out, little brother,” he said. “And I’m going to take care of it; don’t worry about it. You’re all mixed up because you don’t have anybody to take charge. Let go! I’m your big brother from now on. I’ll tell you what to do and I’ll guide you. Let go, Sandy.”

I started to cry. Very quietly and from a depth of unhappiness that I had been fighting down for a very long time.

Joel moved his pipe to the other side of his mouth and undid my belt. He pulled down my pants and I started to cry a little harder.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly, “let it go, little brother, let it all go.”

He reached down and undid one shoe and then the other and I stepped out of them. He pulled my pants all the way down and I stepped out of them. Joel reached up to the waistband of my underpants and I instinctively moved to push his hands away. He puffed at his pipe and frowned. Then without a word, one of his hands whipped around and smacked my backside. I danced from one foot to the other in discomfort, but dropped my hands. Joel pulled down my underpants and held them until I stepped out of them. Then he pulled my shirt over my head, and I was naked.

Joel reached out and ruffled my hair again, as if to say, “It’s okay that you’re naked.” He smiled around his pipe and said, “You’re a cute kid. You know that.” Then Joel sorted out the front of the doctor dentons and I stepped into them. The minute my feet touched those footpads and the dentons move dup my legs, I felt myself shrinking. Shrinking back into a little boy.

Joel held out the top for me to put my arms into and I did so with tears running down my cheeks.

“Turn around,” Joel said gently, his pipe steaming in his mouth. I turned around and Joel began to do up my buttons. He started at the neck and left the drop seat haning open for a minute or two before fastening those buttons as well. Then he patted my backside in a way that clearly said, “All Done!”

I turned around and faced him.

“Everything I’m doing is to help you grow up, do you understand?”

I nodded.

“You know that I’m your big brother and that I have to use a little tough love to straighten you out.”

I nodded and sniffed. “What...what are you going to do?”

Joel scowled again. “I’m going to do what I should do, and you’re going to experience it. You need discipline and I’m going to give it to you now.”

Joel took my hand and lead me out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.

“What????”

Joel didn’t answer. He pushed me in front of the sink and stood behind me. He pushed into me so that his right leg was between my legs and it felt as if I were almost sitting on his knee. He turned on the water tap and opened the medicene cabinet over the sink. He took out a container of shaving cream and popped off the lid. He moved even closer to me so that his knee pressed into the crack of my backside and pressed upward against my balls. I could feel his chest on my back.

Joel pressed the button and a large, white mound of shaving cream billowed out into his palm.

“Open up!” he said. “I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Why?” I asked, trying to push back but not being able.

“Because you didn’t put the pajamas on when I told you to and because you came down and started using your mouth to be disobedient.” With that, Joel used his free hand to grab my nose. He did it so hard, and so suddenly, that I couldn’t do anything but gasp and then Joel stuffed my mouth full of shaving cream. His entire hand was in my mouth scrubbing the soap into every corner. I gagged and chocked, but Joel’s big hand forced my mouth open and some of the soap slid down my throat without my being able to do anything but swallow. Joel let go of my nose and took hold of my hair. He bent my head forward and with the hand that had held the soap, he scooped up water and rinsed my mouth. I chocked a gurgled, but Joel kept rinsing until only a few bubbles floated over the sink. Then he pressed out another handful of soap and started a second round of mouth washing.

Three choking times, Joel scrubbed and rinsed, scrubbed and rinsed, scrubbed and rinsed. The soap burned my throat, burned my sinuses and made my lips and gums red, but Joel didn’t care. He scrubbed away with his fingers while he puffed at his pipe.

I was almost stifled between the pipe smoke that billowed around my head and the soap in my mouth and throat.

Then it was over, and Joel was taking me, crying and gasping, back to the bedroom by the back of my neck.

He pulled out his desk chair into the very center of the room. It made me think of a king’s throne. Then he dragged me over to his bureau where he picked up an enormous wooden hairbrush. I had seen such a hairbrush only once before. It had been used by the mother of a friend I had. The friend had a little brother and sister who wet the bed. Whenever they had an accident, their mother took them into her bedroom and put them over her knee. Then she spanked them with the hairbrush. For some reason, that hair brush had always excited me and terrified me. It was so domestic, but so brutal.

Now Joel picked this instrument up and took me back to that isolate chair in the center of the room. Joel sat in the chair and, once again, stood me between his knees. He held the hairbrush in one hand and waved it at me.

“I am going to spank the living daylight out of you, Sandy. I’m going to whale your little behind until it’s cherry red, and then I’m going to whale it some more. I don’t care if you cry and I don’t care if you scream. I’m going to spank you until you don’t care anymore.”

With those words, Joel reached under my arms and lifted me up and across his lap. His ability to do that broke me down completely. I was a little boy being punished by his big brother.

I was drapped across his knees and the situation was completely out of my control. Joel wrapped his left arm over my back and around my wait. His right arm undid the buttom of my drop seat and he slowly lowered it exposing my bare bottom. For a moment he rested the giant hairbrush across my backside. It was so big, so outsized, that its wooden paddle covered a good part of both my cheeks.

“Keep your head down and your hands in front of you,” Joel said. “If you fight me, I’ll blister you so that you take three weeks to heal.”

Then the hairbrush spanking started.

It hurt immediately. After three wallops, I thought I would not possibly be able to take more. “Stop!” I screamed, “it hurts too much. Let me up!”

“It’s supposed to hurt, son,” Joe said, “this is a spanking.” And he continued walloping me with the brush.

I had no control after the fifth spank. My feet began to kick and I reached around to grab the hairbrush. Joel grabbed my hand and held it against the small of my back. The hairbrush rose above his head and came whizzing down.

WHACK!

“Ooow, Joel! Stop! It hurts too much!”

WHACK!

“Stop!” I screamed, “I really can’t take it.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

“Aaaaah (sob), oooh!”

WHACK! WHACK!

I screamed and chocked on my own tears. “Stooooop!”

WHACK! WHACK!

Clouds of pipe smoke filled the air and mixed with the tears that streamed down my face and the snot that drooled out of my nose. My mouth was a gigantic oval with sound pouring out of it. Joel stopped for a moment and put the hair brush down. Suddenly, he was wiping my face with a handkerchief.

“Blow your nose,” he said, not unkindly.

I blew and he rubbed the wetness away with a practiced hand.

Then he picked up the hairbrush and continued spanking.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

I began to be frenzied with the pain. I kicked and tossed my head. I tried to look back, but Joel pressed my head back down and then recaptured my hand.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

“Waaaaaah,” I bawled. “Ooooh, dadddddeeeeee!”

WHACK!

“I’m sorry little boy,” Joel said..

WHACK!“.......but I have to teach you.”

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

“Oooooow! Waaaaaaaah! No moooooore!”

Joel paused again and gave me a moment to catch my breath. My backside was throbbing. It felt as thought it was so swollen that the skin would burst if he hit it again with the brush.

“Your backside is cherry red,” Joel said, more pungent pipe smoke filling the air, “but you’re not done. I have to spank you a little more.”

He took up the hairbrush and got back to business. I could actually hear the brush whistling through the air before it made blazing contact with my backside.

I begged. I wept. I kicked, screamed and thrashed, but Joel was powerful and in charge. He kept me over his lap, bucking and sobbing, for over thirty minutes. When he finally put the hairbrush down, I was in the worst pain of my life.