hairbrushes and bath brushes

Happy new year! I've just about recovered from this year's celebrations, and am full of optimism about 2008. There hasn't been much play amongst the festivities, but I do have a story from the days just following Christmas.

While D was discovering pervertibles attached to his ceiling, Tom and I have been investigating new domestic implements of our own. Most notably a long-handled, heavy wooden bath brush belonging to one of my housemates. I've been eyeing this thing ever since I moved in - not least because at least one of my housemates is kinky, so it's entirely possibly that the bath brush has already been well and truly perverted.

But after the emotional rollercoaster of this year, during which I got so out of practice as far as traditional CP went, I was nervous about suggesting the bath brush to Tom. Although he must have noticed it himself. I'm improving slowly though, pushing my limits out a little further each time, and one evening I was feeling playful.

I've had little oval hairbrushes on my mind lately - polished wood, the kind a governess would use. Tom's hairbrush is large and square, with a very crisp stingy smack which is extremely hard to take, particularly used at speed. That hairbrush has had me kicking and literally screaming on more than one occasion, when I wasn't in the mood for a spanking and was getting one regardless. It's a vicious little beast. (This is all on the bare, of course: the sting of that hairbrush is actually quite nice over tight jeans.)

So, lacking a small, elegant ladies' hairbrush, I found my mind wandering to the untried bathbrush. Heavier, of course, but it would give me with warmth of thick wood without the unforgiving sting of Tom's hairbrush, or the coverage of a paddle. Tom thought the idea was an excellent one, and was kind enough to warm me up thoroughly beforehand.

The first two sets of six, over pillows on the bed with my bare bottom raised, were warm-up strokes, and as I squeaked and wriggled I could feel the effect they were having between my legs. It packed a generous wallop, but it was a pleasingly warm, weighty sensation - lots of thud at the centre of the impact, not too much sting at the edges. I began to think that this bathbrush might be my friend after all.

How wrong I was. The first "non warm-up" stroke landed squarely on the exposed line below my left cheek, which (Tom explained later) he had carefully left un-warmed with his hand to demonstrate how kind he was to warm up the rest of me. It burned. I flew out of position, clutching my injured cheek and failing to bite down on the swear-words escaping my mouth. I was lucky not to be punished further for that, but he chose to be lenient in light of the trick he'd played on me. The next five were not light, though. By the end my entire bottom was sore, and tormented by an unpleasant tickling sort of sensation. I've noticed that effect of heavy wooden implements - one's bottom takes on almost a sort of chilly numbness to the touch, afterwards, unlike the flames caused by leather, but with a deeper ache, and a prickly surface tingling.

Tom took pity on me, and rubbed aloe vera gel into my punished bottom, which helped my skin and my mood considerably. The rest of the evening was extremely pleasurable. But I don't think I'll ever underestimate that bath brush - or the importance of a proper warm-up - again.