Added: Denia Sibert - Date: 23.04.2022 21:13 - Views: 48980 - Clicks: 2699
Since I turned eleven, my hairbrush has been my constant assistant in helping me overcome my faults and improve my behavior. In the competent and loving hands of my mother, this implement has taught me many painful but necessary lessons. Although I have been punished with other implements, the hairbrush has a unique place. The soft bristles in the front of the brush help me keep my hair neat and pretty. I usually spend about ten minutes a day brushing my hair to get it ready for my ribbons or barrettes. Through the years, Mommy has taught me certain rituals that help me remember the specialness of my hairbrush.
It occupies a special place on my night table. Then comes the best part; Mommy puts her arms around me and holds me against her warm body. I can feel the love penetrate right through to my bones. When I was still Hairbrush spanking stories high school, I sat at my desk and wrote on my most special stationery and in my best penmanship the following note:. Thank you so much for the beautiful dress that you let me pick out for my birthday.
But I also want to thank you for another gift. You gave it to me six years ago when I turned eleven, but I never Hairbrush spanking stories you a proper thank you. I want you to know, from the bottom of my heart, how I feel about this most precious gift. The gift is my hairbrush. I have come to understand that my hairbrush is my friend and teacher because it encourages me to correct my faults and always work on improving myself. I am grateful to my hairbrush, and to you Mommy, for taking the time and trouble to give me the spankings that help me improve.
I watched as my Mom read the note and joyfully wept. I vowed that each year I would renew and enrich the profound loving thoughts that I expressed in that note. Another ritual is that each year, on my birthday, at bedtime, Mom would come in to my room. I guess that I got spanked with the hairbrush about once a month. Sometimes, it was combined with a hand spanking, depending on the severity of my offense.
Last year, I got myself into some serious and quite unnecessary trouble. They had a long talk about telling the truth and Gina felt truly sorry. My girlfriend wisely offered to do extra chores to show her remorse.
She was quite excited about how she and Gina worked it out and how it actually improved their relationship. Did you, or did you not, lie to Mrs Gallo? I stood and shuffled over, dragging the chair behind till I reached her. She lifted the back of my skirt high over my back and let it fall downward to my shoulders.
My slip soon followed. She stood over to my left and touched the leather to my right hip.
She drew the strap back and swung it down hard across the meaty middle of my thinly-sheathed bottom. It crashed across my flesh, making a loud cracking sound and drawing a deep gasp from me. I felt a burning stripe etched across both buttocks. Mom waited a bit, swung the strap back over her shoulder and, I guess, aimed for a point just below the first stripe. I was a little surprised as the leather Hairbrush spanking stories parallel to the first stripe, almost directly underneath, giving me the impression of one wide stripe. I began crying as she lashed down the third blow, which fell below the other two, just above the thighs.
The next three were right by the leg holes of my panties, which brought forth more cries as I really began jumping around. Mom sternly told me to settle down and lashed the seventh down across the center of my bottom. She laid s eight, nine and ten progressively lower down my bottom until she once again struck the lower hem of my panties. I even remember thinking of hairbrush spankings that had hurt more. Yet here I was, crying uncontrollably. That I was crying noisily was, of course, to be expected.
Some parents have a low tolerance for noise and actually whip their child harder for crying. She tells me that crying is healthy and purifying; a song of repentance, if you will. But, this was different. The volume and pitch of crying should be proportional to the pain and humiliation, and mine was way out of proportion. Concerned, Mom stopped hitting me. It made little difference. I just stood there, my entire body shaking with the force of my large heaving sobs.
Seeing no change in my demeanor, Mom could conclude that I was faking and really lay into me. Instead, she stood me up and hugged me. Instinctively, I hugged her Hairbrush spanking stories and, putting my face into her bosom, cried like a lost little girl. Finally, she quieted me down and asked why I was so upset. When she returned about an hour later, and sat down on my bed next to me, I had figured it all out. I had just started a new school and felt shy and insecure. Home, and Mom seemed my only refuge, and then this happened.
It suddenly clicked. Oh dear, what am I saying? Still giggling, I turned left and threw myself across the warmth of her woolen skirt. But when I turned round to look back at her, she had her face next to mine, also shining with tears. We kissed and we laughed and we cried and I told her a thousand times how much I loved her, and she loved me back.
Finally, Mom noted that it was past my bedtime.Hairbrush spanking stories
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Hairbrush Spanking Stories