Alicia found the brush where it always lay. She wondered what fraction of its usage over the years had actually been for hairstyling vs spanking. This ‘fetch the brush’ order was a ritual of her mother’s and Alicia and her siblings had retrieved the brush countless times. As a youngster, this was a significant component of the punishment - going to get the implement that would soon be warming your bottom, holding the otherwise benign tool but knowing soon it would be applied most wickedly and then handing it to mom who would then scold the recipient, wagging the tool at them and finally the orders ‘pants down’, and ‘over my knee’. The hairbrush was innocent enough looking but a sinisterly effective tool for misbehaving youngsters. Alicia had never really appreciated the point of the retrieval ritual but now saw the anticipation and participation were key factors underscoring the eventually application of the wooden makeshift paddle to bare skin.

She handed the brush to her mom. The scolding was unexpectedly brief, “You better start pulling your weight around here or this will become a daily ritual. Now get those pants down and go over my knee.” When Alicia was in-place, Maggie set a two-minute timer on her phone, handed the phone to Alicia and said, “Ready when you are.” Alicia paused for a moment, appreciating the relatively cool air on her bare cheeks before they were roasted by the brush. She hit the start button and Maggie began to spank. The swats were at a high cadence with every bit of energy Maggie could muster in each swing. With about fifteen seconds to go she asked, “Are you getting the message?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Alicia sobbed. Maggie finished the punishment with a volley of five very hard swats to Alicia’s right sit spot, then the left. She contemplated ending there but decided to another pair of volleys, then a third and a final fourth.

“Go dry your eyes,” Maggie ordered, a bit out of breath herself. “I’ve ordered pizza and it should be here any moment.” Alicia realized that she’d been dangerously close to having the door bell ring in mid-spanking. She imagined the pizza guy hearing the commotion and peering in the sidelight windows beside the door to see her bright red, bare ass being soundly spanked.

She was in her room, inspecting the condition of her bottom in her dressing mirror when the bell did ring. Her ass was going to be seriously bruised for a while and that did not include the promised strapping from her dad tomorrow night. She carefully pulled her panties and stretch pants over her seared cheeks and felt her phone vibrate. She looked at the screen and saw it was a reminder that she had a regular wellness appointment with the doctor tomorrow morning. “Shit,” she muttered hoping that this was a fairly above the waist sort of appointment.

“Pizza’s ready,” her mom called, much too cheerfully.