Taking Care of the Dust
by zprymantis@smilingwithteeth.com



When Janet Ballard opened her front door, it was not particularly surprising to see her brother-in-law visiting. What was surprising, was the look on his face. Generally, Rick was at ease and jovial when he visited. He would often stop by unannounced on his way to or from the office, sometimes to deliver something from her older sister or to simply keep in touch if too much time had passed. Occasionally, when her boys were younger, he would stop by on his lunch hour and spend a few minutes playing catch with them or roughhousing.

Often, he was the source of sound advice when Janet had a problem. They had spent many hours just talking about family issues and child rearing. When Rick would give her a goodbye hug, and head out the door, Janet always felt more confident and capable. Rick was good for her self-esteem. He understood that raising her three well-adjusted sons was her most important accomplishment. He never minimized that, and it was refreshing to know someone, besides her husband, valued her accomplishments.

Rick paused for a moment at the doorway, looking almost guilty that he was here on his lunch hour unannounced. He noticed that Janet was dressed-up in a black skirt and bright cotton blouse along with black nylons and heels. She wasn't wearing her usual mom's uniform of jeans and tee shirt. Janet quickly put his fears aside explaining that she had just returned from a meeting at her youngest son's high school. She quickly ushered him into her kitchen and started preparing him a sandwich and some coffee.

Now that their children were just about grown, it seemed her long chats and visits from Rick had become less frequent. There were no longer the mandatory birthday cookouts, winter bowling parties and baseball tournaments to force almost weekly visits. Janet smiled as she sat across the table from Rick and reflected that it had been six months since they had a good talk, and how happy she was to see him. She also asked him why he seemed worried and asked if everything was all right at home.

Rick chuckled at himself a little, and nervously swirled his spoon around his coffee cup. He explained that it wasn't anything that time and a lot of elbow grease wouldn't fix, but he had just been having a very hard week. He had been distracted lately, and careless. He paused, as if not wanting to give any details, but after looking into Janet's eyes, chuckled a little, and shrugged and rushed through his story.

He told her how he had been doing some work around the house and knocked over an entire bucket of paint on their newly carpeted floor. Then he sort of laughed sheepishly, and described how it had splashed on the walls and some of the furniture as well. He said that he realized that he is a grown man, successful in his career, educated and logically he knows he can afford new carpet. He also explained that if it was her sister that had knocked over the paint it would have been easier, or even if one of his kids had been careless and done the same thing, he would have immediately forgiven them for their momentary carelessness and spent the money to fix things, but for some reason, he just couldn't forgive himself. He felt guilty.

When he said the word guilty, he dropped the spoon that had been swirling around his cup, and coffee splashed out onto the placemat. Rick quickly reached across the table to retrieve a napkin almost knocking over his entire cup. Janet placed her hand on his and forced it to the table, telling him it's alright and that it was just a little spill.

Rick then explained that he wished he were a child again; things were simpler when he was a kid. If he did something wrong, his mother knew just how to handle it, with her hairbrush, and then things went back to normal.

Janet had to smile at the image of Rick over his mother's knee. It was hard to imagine, as she had always known him as a very tall adult man, more of a father figure to her and her sons. To imagine him being small and vulnerable and crying over his mothers lap was enough to make a smile emerge on both their faces.

Still, all men were little boys once, just like her sons, and even her sons had spent time over her knee. Rick mentioned that, and they talked for a few minutes about her den, and the "discussions" that always took place there. Many a time, Rick had seen her sons emerge from her den with a new outlook, and a sore bottom. Janet suddenly had an idea and she asked Rick a question.

"Rick, do you trust me?"

Rick nodded and smiled, naturally he did.

"Well, I know exactly what you need, and I think you do to. This can't go on. You know very well that nobody expects you to be perfect, and all these pressures you are placing on yourself are just making things worse. If you agree with me, then I think we should continue this discussion in my den."

Before her eyes, Rick turned into that little boy again. Janet could see his eyes widen, and she could almost hear his stomach flutter! Rick swallowed and searched her face to see if she was just joking. Then, calmly and with determination, he placed his coffee cup down, stood up, and walked to her den.


Janet, sat there, surprised at herself and surprised that she had sent her brother-in-law off to her den! As soon as he was out of sight and she heard the den door close, she looked up at her kitchen ceiling fan and noticed the dust. It needed to be taken care of, wiped clean, made neat and orderly and tidy. She didn't like dusting, but there are simply things that have to be done. She contemplated the ceiling fan, and she contemplated her brother-in-law waiting in the den. Then she stood up and cleared the table, placed the coffee cups in the dishwasher, washed her hands, dried them and walked down the hallway.

She took a quick detour to her bedroom and picked up the hairbrush off her dresser. It was the same one that she always took into the den for discussions with her sons and the same one that had been used on her when she was a little girl. It was not a hairbrush to be used on hair. It was large and flat and made from white ivory. It stung like the dickens. Then she opened the door to her den and walked inside.

***
When Janet entered the room, she found Rick standing near the corner window looking out toward her backyard. He turned and his eyes fell immediately on the hairbrush. He looked lost as to what to do next. Janet looked at her brother-in-law, and then at the couch, measuring just where she should sit so he would fit comfortably. She sat down and placed her hairbrush next to her on the right. Then she moved forward on the couch and motioned for him to come close. He walked over to her, and his hands went idly and probably instinctively to his belt buckle. Janet reached up, smiled warmly and suggested that perhaps they should get these trousers out of the way before they begin their discussion. She quickly started unbuckling his belt buckle and Rick helped by lowering his pants and kicking them off. With a merciful heart, Janet grabbed his hand and quickly tugged him over her knee.


Janet immediately and without a word began to spank his charcoal grey underwear with her palm. She placed her left hand on his hip, and pulled him close to her. At first Rick didn't move or indicate that this spanking hurt at all. With a few well-placed smacks to his exposed thighs he did startle and then exclaimed that her hands really hurt! Janet did chuckle a little, and explained that once he feels the hairbrush, he will forget all about his guilt. After a few hundred more smacks with her hand, Rick began to squirm around and told her that he never knew she had such boney hands.

Janet laughed at this point, and most of her anxiety at spanking a grown man disappeared, she even started to enjoy herself. It's not as if dusting had to be a chore and why should a good sound spanking be all seriousness and sadness? She spanked harder, and exclaimed.

"I'll show you boney hands young man!"

Then she snatched the elastic of his underwear and tugged them down. Rick visibly shuddered and grabbed hold and hugged a pillow that was at one end of the couch. Janet continued spanking and watched as her brother-in-laws bottom started to turn red.

Rick, who was always a bit of a show off, and someone who couldn't keep quite for long, started to complain again about her boney hands and mentioned that she was very mean to be spanking him on his bare bottom like this. He made her laugh, but she knew just how much this needed to hurt, otherwise Rick would walk around with his head in a dusty cloud of guilt forever. She picked up the ivory hairbrush.

When she rubbed the back of it across his bare and somewhat red behind, she thought she could actually watch the fine hairs rise up in fear. Rick tensed and even muttered and... "Oh no, this is going to hurt!"

"That's right it is, and you deserve every swat, don't you?"

Janet raised the brush and brought it down with some force on the under cheeks of his bottom. After a few dozen of these, she noticed that Rick's bottom was sinking lower and lower across her lap. She paused for a moment, her hand resting on the warmth she had made, and gently swirled her hand around in a circle. She said with a gentle voice that she felt he needed twenty hard smacks with the brush, but she expected him to raise his bottom up higher for her. Rich said, "Yes ma'am." just the way her son's always did during discussions, and then she saw him scoot back on his elbows a bit, and his bottom rose up, exposing the exact under spot where she wanted to aim.

"Good boy."

She heard his breath intake as she raised the brush up high and she was actually surprised that his behind stayed firmly in place as twenty hard swats of the brush were applied to his bottom. When she reached twenty she stopped and Rick let out a raspy gasp of relief.

"You did very well, you took those quite bravely." Janet said, as she gently rested the ivory brush for a moment on his bright pink bottom.

As she slowly moved the cool ivory back and forth on his behind, noticing the red splotches and streaks that indicate the lesson is being learned, they talked quietly to one another. It was the same as when she punished her children, spanks given with love, and promises made with feeling. Then Janet realized that to make a lasting impression, and to make Rick feel truly punished, she would have to apply a bit more discipline to his upturned backside.

Again he lifted his bottom up high for her, and this time forty hard smacks, much harder than she ever spanked her sons, rained down on a grown mans behind. His resolve to keep his bottom high failed a bit as the number approached twenty, and she used her empty hand to lift his bottom, exposing the under flesh, and then parted his cheeks to the left and right to smack the tender areas in his crack. All in all, he received all forty of the best smacks, each one counting and making its impression. It was quiet in the den, except for the sounds of ivory meeting meaty flesh. It remained quiet as he stayed across her lap after the hairbrush stopped falling.

She put down the hairbrush then, and noticed that the skin where she had punished him was sticky and oozing. She knew that he would have a reminder of his time in the den for many days to come. She gently raised his underwear.

When Rick stood up, he was smiling, and quickly pulled on his jeans. He winced as the jeans slid past the round part of his backside. He smiled boyishly at Janet and then he buckled his belt. While over his sister-in-laws knee he had felt small and childish, but now that he was free from her mean cruel grasp, he felt nothing but clean and light. He even joked a bit about what a strong arm she had, and made a few more jokes about her boney hands. Then he noticed that Janet looked a bit worried, and she ask if she had perhaps been too hard on his poor behind. To answer her concerns, he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a big bear hug, picking her up off the ground and squeezing her with all his might.

Dust settles on everything, and sometimes, it simply has to be brushed away.


© 2004 by zprymantis@smilingwithteeth.com, not to be reposted or distributed without permission

 


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