bathbrush spanking


bathbrush spanking

high impact

It has been, thank Heavens, some time since the Lady of the House has used her bath brush to punish me. I can’t say I miss it.

However, looking at our Amazon sales I noticed that some unlucky husband is going to find himself on the wrong end of the brush pictured here. What a monster that is. A fifteen inch beechwood handle which will let his wife gain a lot of mechanical advantage. Unlike a cane where the pain is intense but confined, a bathbrush can be just as intense but the pain is spread over a wider area.

Six sharp strokes with a cane and an errant husband will be lifting his legs and having a hard time holding his position. The same strokes with a brush and, unless he is firmly tied, even the toughest husband will be trying to squirm away from his correction.

So, to my soon to be sore compatriot, my strong suggestion is that you hasten to buy your wife a nice whippy cane before her bathbrush arrives in the mail. Maybe she, like the Lady of the House, will like the appearance of welts.

My even stronger suggestion is that you be very, very good and deeply attentive.


“I could have used the brush harder,” said Hannah, “but I was not sure you would make it through fifty really hard strokes.” Hannah said that after my last punishment whipping.

Hannah is not a girl to leave questions hanging.

I was not surprised, though a little apprehensive this morning when Hannah told me I’d be getting a maintenance spanking. “Fetch the bath brush.” is not something one wants to hear first thing in the morning. “Now, for a change I’d like you across my lap to start,” Hannah said pulling down my briefs. I took this seldom used position and felt Hannah’s hand as she warmed me up. Mrs. Spenser is entirely correct when she points out that a woman really can’t do much with her hand; but a good long warm up spanking sets the mood and puts me into my proper place.

“Now, let’s see what this brush can really do.” said Hannah bringing the bath brush to bear. The problem with the across the lap position is that it is awkward and difficult for Hannah to take a full swing. But even the abbreviated strokes sent frissons of pain. I didn’t count but I suspect Hannah delivered at least a dozen smacks before saying, “This just does not work. Get onto the bed and put a pillow under your hips.” I hastened to comply and, in a matter of seconds, Hannah brought the brush down with real force. “That’s better,” Hannah said as she brought down the next smack with what felt like even more force.

“You see, darling, I am pretty certain you could take fifty of these…or more. And you really wouldn’t have any choice. But it would really hurt so, if I were you, I would remember what this dozen feels like and never put myself in a position where you deserved more.” Hannah kept her rhythm as she spoke. “Your skin turns milk white before it goes pink. If I did this for a while I expect you really would not be able to sit down for a day or two. Especially on that nice hard wood chair I have for you in your office.”

I suspect it was a dozen stokes, I was certainly not counting. Rather I was trying to embrace the sensation and the love with which Hannah swung her bath brush.

“There you go dear,” said Hannah, finished at last, “You catch your breath and then we can have a nice cup of coffee on the terrace.”

Which we did and I sat, rather delicately on the edge of my seat.