Never Underestimate An Oversized Hairbrush

So it turned out to be a caning in Professor's office, plus a bit more, and it all began with me bent over the back of a chair with my jeans and panties pulled down to my knees.

By the way, there is nothing weirder.....or more swoony.... then being told to bare your bottom and bend over the back of a chair in the middle of the office of your Disciplinarian. Especially when your Disciplinarian happens to be a popular faculty member of a rather large University.

Especially when you are standing at his side, in the hallway waiting, as he has an impromptu meeting with whichever grad student or fellow faculty member manages to corner him on our way back from lunch.

It is always good for me to take pause and think about that every once in a while. I wonder how many spankos I have come in proximity to while standing in line at the post office, in school, at the bank or even grocery shopping.

And I also wonder how many spankings are taking place behind the closed doors of offices, random conference rooms, or even storerooms of various businesses, office buildings or academic facilities we come in contact with on a daily basis. The thought alone warms my little spanko heart. How very swoony. Very swoony indeed.

Anyway, back to Professor's office...

I had brought my new bath brush...the one I ordered from The Vermont Country Store. I had tried to order it months ago, but because of online ordering problems, I got frustrated and ordered a bath brush from somewhere else...and we broke it at our last spanking session. No, it wasn't a dramatic spanking thing...it was just a poorly constructed bath brush.

When I received the bath brush from The Vermont Country Store a couple of weeks ago, I couldn't wait to open it....this was a brush that spankos talked about in hushed, awe struck tones...it was the stuff legends were made of.

I opened the box carefully and peered inside, holding my breath as I took my first long look at the thing responsible for making many spanking fans cry and beg for mercy, and.....I paused. That's it?

I peered at the rather innocuous looking oversized hairbrush sitting in the box. Hmm. Maybe its got a little weight to it because it looks rather puny to me.... I picked it up by the handle and held it in my hand, judging its weight. I dunno...doesn't seem to be much to it. After a few moments, I dropped the brush into my backpack with a shrug and idly wondered what all the fuss was about. Maybe Professor will know...

Fast forward to this afternoon when Professor and I were hanging out in his office chatting.

"Oh! Here is the new bath brush I ordered," I said, handing him the brush. He looked at it and frowned slightly. "That's it? I thought it was longer. It looks like an oversized hairbrush." He turned it over in his palm a few times before tossing it on his desk. "Well, we can give it a try today... but just a whack or two because of the noise. How about we start with this first though?" He said, holding up the crook handled cane, his eyes gleaming.

He made me wait.

For several long minutes, I waited...bent over the chair, listening to the combined hum of his computer and the air conditioner. I shifted from foot to foot, stared at the pink waffle weave of the chair seat and clenched and unclenched my grip on the arms of the chair.

He pressed the cane against both cheeks and held it there, causing me to gasp slightly and close my eyes. I felt my body begin to relax, as my muscles responded in its frighteningly predictable pavlovian way. I stood perfectly still and waited...holding my breath...

CRACK!

The cane kissed my left cheek, and I hissed slightly, under my breath. The first stroke is always a shock... no matter how "ready" I think I am.

CRACK!

The cane came down smartly again, this time leaving a stingy line on my right cheek. I rocked on the balls of my feet and grinned happily.

For the next several minutes, Professor caned me, his wrist expertly flicking the thin, sting causing rod against my already squirming bottom, ever so often leaving a line of stinging fire on the tops of my thighs.

Ouch!

I never crouch down to try to bloke the pain... or bring a leg up to shield my bottom like some do.

Instead, it is almost as I try to climb OVER the chair to escape, so after several very painful whacks of any implement, I am usually draped over the chair back, clawing my way toward the front of the seat cushion.

There is only one problem with this stragegy. One *big* problem. In my efforts to pull away from the pain, and scramble over the chair to get to who knows where, I only end up putting the lower, fleshier and more sensitive spots of my bottom in the line of fire.

Stupid, I know... but in the "heat" (heh. Bad pun.) of the moment, I don't realize what I am doing until the nasty little implements lands, causing me to see stars.

*tap* *tap* *tap*

My chest was heaving and when I felt the tapping, my body relaxed because I knew he was allowing me a bit of time. He tapped the tip against my bottom and waited until my breathing had slowed. "Want to try the new brush?" He asked, his voice close to my ear.

I nodded and grinned, my bottom still stinging slightly. He nodded and set the cane on the desk before picking up the hairbrush and placing his right hand on the small of my back. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," I mumered and squirmed a bit, adjusting my stance, my grip on the arms of the chair, cleared my throat and shook my head slightly to get the hair out of.....

POP!

I think my heart stopped. Good gawd. I blinked my eyes several times and swallowed, trying to let my brain assimilate what just happened. Holy shit!! The sting....oh my g.g.g.gaw......

POP!

I don't think I can adequately describe what it felt like. My head swam and I struggled to keep my elbows from giving out. Panting, I tried to compare the sensation something....anything....pain...pain, pain and more pain. I waited for it to subside, but it didn't.

A burn. A rug burn. No....not quite. The gym. The gym at school...

And then I knew.

It was like a gymnasium burn....like the kind of burn you would get on your bare leg when you fell....no, kind of slid/skidded on the laquerred gym floor in middle school.

A hot, angry, stinging-like-fire, skin-sharply-pulled-and-then-rubbed-raw type of burn...that lasts.

My knuckles went white as I swallowed several times before trusting myelf to speak, and when I did, my voice was hoarse. "G.a.w...d.d.dd...thhatt...hhurrrttt...."

He nodded and sat down, motioning for me to pull my pants back up. I wimpered a bit at the thought of fabric sliding over the angry floor burn feeling I had.

"Um, I think its reputation is deserved." Professor grinned and watched me rub the seat of my jeans. "Yes, it appears so. But we won't know *how* deserved until we can really try it out. We need a bit more privacy though. The popping sound is pretty loud."

He glanced at the brush and then back at me. I grimaced ruefully and continued to rub.

Loud? Was it loud? I didn't happen to notice...the whooshing sound in my ears sort of blocked everything else out....

Cocking my head to one side, I grinned at him while picking up the brush and studying it a bit more carefully . "Um, so when can we *really* try it out, Professor? I mean, we should try everything at least once, right?"

Yeah right...oversized hairbrush indeed...

*Mental note to self: NEVER underestimate a bath brush or hair brush, no matter what the size...