The Mason Pearson Hairbrush
Once you reach a certain age, getting a spanking is pretty humiliating. My most humiliating spanking by far was when I was 18 years old. I went to a women’s college in the northeast of England back in the 1960s when female students had a curfew. The men didn’t! We had to be back at the dormitory by a certain time and sign in. The 1960s were a fun time to be young, so I of course ignored my curfew many times and received a talking-to several times in the dormitory mother’s office, but I didn’t care. What I didn’t know was that at the end of the semester she wrote a letter to the parents of students who repeatedly missed curfew. The letter was received a few days after New Year while I was home for Christmas break, and my parents were not pleased.
My parents called me into my father’s study to scold me and then my mother handed my father her Mason Pearson hairbrush, and my father ordered me to take down my pants and get over his lap. I remember being shocked. I, of course, protested that I was way too old, but he was having none of it. He told me to take down my pants or he would do it for me. I reluctantly unzipped my pants and pulled them down to my ankles and leaned over his lap. He left my panties on. Thank god there were some advantages to being 18! Then he proceeded to spank my bottom.
Today’s hairbrushes are pretty lightweight, but back in the 1950s and 1960s they were very well made from a thick, solid, heavy wood with a large flat back which made them a popular instrument for disciplining naughty girls and boys. My mother’s favorite hairbrush was the Mason Pearson which was considered the gold standard of hairbrushes and were very expensive and well made. She purchased a new one every year or so when the bristles became worn, but she never threw the old ones away but instead saved them for spanking. And while the bristle side may have become worn, the flat back of the brush remained in pristine condition.
My thin nylon panties provided me a modicum of dignity, but provided no protection whatsoever for my poor bottom. My father spanked me hard, in quick rapid spanks covering every inch of my bottom. I was soon screaming and kicking like a little girl, and almost as bad as the pain was the humiliation of being an 18-year-old getting a spanking, also knowing that my younger brother and sister were next door in the TV room listening to the whole thing. To this day, I still shudder when I think about that spanking.
When the spanking was finally over, my bottom felt like it was on fire. My father informed me that as long he was paying my college tuition and housing that, if he ever received another letter from the school telling him that I was out after curfew, I would get another spanking, even if it meant him travelling to the college himself and spanking me there.
From that point on I was signed in before curfew every night!
My senior year, I moved out of the dorms into an apartment with some classmates where I finally got to truly enjoy the swinging sixties.