For her youngest act, Joni suggested we play at her place. I would have received a phone call from ‘mom’ about the transgression and the 6-year-old Joni would have been told to ‘...wait until your father gets home.’

I stopped by Joni’s after work and found her moping on the couch. She had the most authentic pout and the sight of her sticking out her lower lip never failed to get me aroused. “So I hear you running around and broke your mom’s favorite vase,” I queried. She nodded and I added, “What have we said about playing outdoor games inside?”

“Not to do it?” Joni offered.

“And what would happen if you did?” I questioned.

“I don’t know,” Joni countered, suppressing a smirk.

“Are you sure? It’s probably not a good idea to provoke me any more right now,” I threatened.

“Mmmm. I’d get a spanking?” she admitted.

“Bingo,” I replied. “Go get the brush from your dresser.” Early in our play together, I had found an old wooden hairbrush at an estate sale. It was a formidable item and I wondered about its history - how many fannies over the years had been warmed by it. Before our age-play tour, I had spanked Joni a couple of times with it and we agreed it should remain on her dresser at all times - a conspicuous reminder of past spankings, a threat towards future episodes and also a location that made for easy access.

Joni slunk off towards her room and returned with the brush a few minutes later. “You’re moving awfully slow and gonna make me even more grumpy,” I scolded and pulled her close and over my lap as she held on to the brush. I yanked her stretch pants down to expose her lovely ass and took the brush from her hand.

“Please, daddy, I’m sorry. Please,” Joni begged.

“Too late for that, I’m afraid. You’ve earned a good long spanking and very red bottom that should remind you about appropriate indoor play,” I replied and began to spank. Immediately, she began to wriggle and writhe as the hard swats from the brush added color and heat to her cheeks. I never recalled that aside from a grunt or moan, Joni had ever vocalized much during a spanking but now she was authentically crying and sobbing. I wondered if the noise was accompanied by actual tears. I continued until her cheeks were red and almost hot to the touch. Her sit spots that had received a disproportionate number of strikes were darker in color and lightly bruised.

“Are you going to play like that indoors any more?” I asked.

“No, daddy. I’m sorry,” Joni replied. I patted her rosy, hot bottom and she repositioned herself to sit so her thighs were astride mine, leaving her well-spanked bottom in the open air. I really enjoyed this aspect of aftercare, cuddling and lightly caressing the globes of her ass that I had just recently been rather violently flogging. She nuzzled close and offered, “Thank you, daddy,” and gave me a kiss on the neck. I think she knew how horny I was and how her light touches and kisses like this were an enormous torment to me.