A busy local club, not unlike the one where Shane Dennison learned his game.
Amanda 'Mandy' Charlston in her playing days.
A picture of the overleg lock technique when applying the hairbrush to an errant pair of cheeks.
“Game, Set and Match, Mr Dennison!” the chair umpire announced.
The packed crowd broke into wild cheering and the tall young man in the middle of the blue plexipave court fell to his knees, dropped his racquet and stayed there for a few moments, his chest heaving with emotional sobs. At length his opponent went to his conqueror and put a gentle hand on a polo shirted shoulder. The blonde rose and embraced the other player before turning to the crowd, tears of joy still shining in his brilliant blue eyes, and raised a hand in victory.
One member of that crowd, a slim blonde lady in her mid thirties watched the scene with a smile on her face and remembered the first time she had seen tears shining in those sky coloured eyes.
“Code violation Mr Dennison. Point deducted,” the chair umpire said emotionlessly.
The blonde boy stared at the older man seated in the elevated chair. “What?” he screamed. “Are you blind? The frigging ball was out!”
“Do you want to forfeit the match?” the umpire asked calmly.
“No,” the boy spat.
“Then settle down and play tennis. Love forty.”
Shane Dennison’s coach watched in horror as her star fourteen-year old player imploded on court. She was at a total loss to know what to say or do. Shane was a lovely boy and he never normally swore or lost it with umpires or lines people, but something had gone seriously wrong with this match. A dubious foot fault had set him off, after that he had served faults, missed easy put aways and volleys and totally forgot their carefully worked out game plan. It all led to an on court meltdown and the ugly confrontation with the umpire.
Amanda ‘Mandy’ Charlston was silent on the drive from the tournament back to their local club. Shane sat next to her and fumed.
“What exactly was that about, Shane?” the blonde demanded once they were in the deserted clubrooms.
“I dunno, Mandy. The foot fault wasn’t there,” the boy mumbled, still holding back tears.
“That’s Miss Charlston, young man!” the green-eyed girl snapped, her eyes flashing. “You don’t normally do this and we’ve spoken about your foot faults before.”
“I don’t care,” Shane muttered, the tears starting again. “Tennis sucks. They can all get stuffed!”
Mandy rolled her eyes and sighed. She supposed she’d thrown a few tantrums in her own teenage playing days, but this was one of the worst she could remember personally witnessing. Maybe it was his age. Fourteen could be a difficult time for boys. “Shane, you don’t mean that, so stop talking nonsense. Maybe I should spank you and make you stand in a corner of the court. If you want to behave like a six year old you can be treated like one.”
The pretty tennis coach regretted the words as soon as she had uttered them and the young man turned shocked eyes on her.
“Come on, let’s get you home. We can discuss this tomorrow. I’ll have a tape to review at my place.”
Mandy hit the pause button on her DVD player then rewound and forwarded the play in slow motion. She sipped her iced tea and sighed. “I have told him again and again not to play that drop shot. It’s the lowest percentage play in tennis. Looks great when it comes off, but it so often doesn’t.”
Amanda Charlston had been a star junior tennis player. Her tennis obsessed mother had put a racquet in her hands when she was three years old and she’d never looked back. Her mother was her first coach, then it was a former professional at the local club, followed by a teacher at a school she’d won a scholarship to on the strength of her tennis game.
Mandy wasn’t under any illusions even as a child that she needed something special to succeed on the professional tour. For that reason she had gone against her mother’s wishes in applying for and winning an athletic scholarship to a prestigious US college and trading tennis for an education. She studied coaching and graduated with a fall back plan if the professional tennis thing didn’t work out.
Initially it did not look like Mandy needed her academic qualifications, she hit a purple patch and was very quickly on the verge of breaking into the world’s top hundred. She even managed to qualify and win a first round at Wimbledon.
Soon after that high point she had fallen awkwardly at a satellite tournament in the US and wrecked her knee. She sought a number of opinions and they were all the same. Her knee could be repaired and she would be able to lead a normal life after a period of rehabilitation, but none of them could guarantee her that the injury would not recur and they may not be able to repair the damage as successfully if it did. Mandy could do everything but play sport at a professional level.
She reassessed her options and had a lot of time to think while she recovered from her knee reconstruction. She decided to retire from the tour and become a coach. She landed a job at a club not far from home and they had a number of promising juniors. She soon had quite a stable of youngsters. The standout was a tall gangly cheeky eight year-old by the name of Shane Dennison.
Shane was a natural. There was nothing standing in the way of him becoming a top player. The boy was agile and quick, he was smart and if his parents were anything to judge by he was going to keep growing and height was an advantage on the tour. He wouldn’t match it with the likes of some of the monsters that did come around from time to time, but he would finish growing at well over six feet and coupled with his natural athleticism it would make him a handful on court.
He was a nice kid, and the recent meltdown simply wasn’t in character for him. Mandy hoped they could get to the root of it at the match review tomorrow.
“You see that?” Mandy asked her guest as they watched the tape of the previous days match and sipped glasses of icy cold milk. “You were still thinking about that foot fault. He lobbed the ball over your head on the next point and from then on your game just fell apart.”
Shane nibbled on a biscuit and did not say anything initially. His eyes were on the screen, but Mandy could see his mind was miles away. “Did you mean what you said yesterday?”
“I’m sure I said a lot of things yesterday, Shane,” Mandy prompted. “Could you be a little more specific?”
The boy took a deep breath, focused his blue eyes on Mandy’s face and said, “Would you really spank me and stand me in the corner?”
Mandy blinked in shock, she vaguely recalled saying something like that to her student yesterday, but she had said it in the heat of the moment and she was stunned that he had actually remembered it.
“Oh honey,” she said gently. “I was angry. I didn’t mean it. I’d never spank a student for not winning a game, even if it was an important one.”
“Oh okay,” Shane said in a soft voice, and he sounded upset.
Mandy frowned, but tried to divert her attention and Shane’s back to the recording of the game.
They’d reviewed a couple of more plays and Mandy reiterated, “I will run you ragged next time you play that drop shot, young man. My mother threatened to tie my right hand to my body and make me play with my left if I continued to use the drop shot.”
“If you didn’t mean it, why did you say it?” Shane asked.
“What?” Mandy asked, exasperation creeping into her voice as she pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.
“The spanking,” the boy clarified.
Mandy closed her eyes and massaged her forehead with her forefinger and thumb. Fourteen-year old boys! She shut the DVD machine down and looked at the young tennis player. “Okay, you’ve obviously got a bee in your bonnet about something and we’re not going to get much done until we get down to it. Talk to me Shane.”
“What happened when you messed up?”
“On the court? As a kid?”
Mandy shrugged. “I got shuttle runs, I’ve done that to you and the squad before, you don’t like it from memory. I had to play the same shot over and over until I got it right. It was all tennis related, Shane, it never got taken home and no before you ask I wasn’t spanked.”
“Not even once?” the boy pressed.
“Once. My grandmother did it. At least that’s what I was told. I don’t remember it. I was very young. It wasn’t for tennis, either, it was because I was being a pain. Mum got really mad at her, apparently, and it didn’t happen again. Why this sudden interest?”
“I think I need one,” Shane answered.
The boy nodded firmly.
“They’re not fun. They hurt. If you think it’s going to be better than shuttle runs I can tell you right now it won’t be.”
“How do you know? You don’t remember the one you got.”
Mandy rolled her eyes. He did actually have a point. She was operating on second hand knowledge. There was a girl she’d met when she was on the circuit who said that her coach, who was also her mother, did spank her for on court slip- ups. They hurt like hell apparently. It didn’t make the girl a better player, and the last Mandy had heard of the girl she and her mother no longer even spoke.
“Shane, I’m not exactly sure why you have this sudden obsession with spanking. I said a silly thing. Your attitude isn’t great today, either. Why don’t we try this again tomorrow after a hit?”
When Shane had gone home Mandy’s thoughts returned to the conversation. She knew Shane and his parents, as well as his younger sister. He was a little different from most of her students. His parents enjoyed their tennis and that was how she had first spotted him, he was having a hit with his father and even as an eight year old was giving the older man a tough time. Interestingly his sister showed no interest or aptitude for tennis and no one in the family had a problem with that. She preferred swimming apparently. Her own mother would have hit the roof if Mandy had said she didn’t want to play tennis anymore.
Shane spent a lot of time at the club and trained hard. His parents were encouraging and supportive when it came to his tennis, but they couldn’t be described as over the top or emotional about it. They were dream parents to coach the offspring of really. Mandy had wished all the parents of the kids she coached were like the Dennisons on more than one occasion. They also insisted he ensure that his studies and activities outside of tennis received equal attention. To the best of her knowledge they didn’t spank the boy either.
“Do you want to do it?” Mandy’s friend Charmaine asked her as they shared a bowl of microwave popcorn while watching TV that evening.
“Of course I don’t!” Mandy replied hotly, throwing at handful of popcorn at the other girl. “What do you think I am? A pervert?”
“I’ve seen him down at the club, he’s got a cute butt.”
“Ewwww! Charmaine! He’s fourteen years old!”
“Guys hit their sexual peak at seventeen,” the brunette pointed out.
“You’re terrible,” Mandy told her.
“Being serious, though,” the other girl said. “That may be it. People do like spanking. It’s a big kink.”
“I am not about to fuel my fourteen year old student’s sexual kink.”
“It’s not just a sexual thing with some people.”
“What do you mean?”
“You said his parents don’t spank. He may feel like his behaviour really let you down and he doesn’t know how else to make it better. A spanking could clear the air and may even improve him as a player and a person. It doesn’t have to involve sex.”
Mandy frowned. “I don’t know, Charmaine.”
“Give it some thought, Mandy. It could be a good thing for both of you long term.”
To Mandy’s relief the spanking issue didn’t surface again for a fortnight. Shane went back to being the keen and talented individual she had always known and loved. That was until there was an in house competition between he and some of the other juniors at the club.
It was a fun thing that she and the club’s other coach liked to do from time to time. They each had their own squads and they felt the competition was good for the kids. It was also a way of testing their coaching skills in a close to tournament competition type situation.
The matches could be quite hotly contested, and tempers did get frayed from time to time, especially with the kids in their early to mid teens. She and Harry; the other coach, were always there to make sure things never escalated out of hand and they weren’t afraid to make someone forfeit a game if they didn’t settle down when told to do so.
Shane’s opponent chose to needle him about the recent tournament loss and it got to the boy. After having a contentious line call go against him Shane snarled at the other boy and then served his next ball directly at his opponent’s head. Shane was acknowledged as one of the hardest serves at the club, even Harry found his better serves hard to handle. The other boy wasn’t ready for it and it struck him flush on the nose, breaking it.
As Harry escorted the young man off the court using a towel to try and stem the steady flow of blood from the smashed nose Mandy stood in front of Shane. The boy’s racquet dangled from his hand and his face had an insolent ‘What did I do?’ look on it. Mandy was furious, her chest heaved and spots of colour stood out on her cheeks, her normally cool green eyes were blazing as she stared at her student.
“What the hell was that?” she demanded.
“An accident,” Shane offered.
“Like fun it was! You got upset with him, and I agree he was out of line bringing up what happened two weeks ago, but you’re going to get that and you have to learn how to deal with it. You do not serve balls into people!”
Shane shrugged. “He could have moved.”
“Not the way you serve, he couldn’t. The tourmament’s over. Get inside!” she punctuated it with a firm swat to the seat of the boy’s shorts, and then ushered the rest of the kids into the club house, so she could wrap things up early. Harry had already taken the stricken boy to casualty to get his nose reset.
The kids were understandably a little shaken and disappointed, but they accepted that the tournament couldn’t continue with one player en route to the hospital and only one coach to handle all of them. Most of them headed home and others called parents to pick them up.
Shane was pulling his phone out of a pocket out of his tennis bag to contact his mother when Mandy’s hand fell on his shoulder. “Not you,” she said calmly. “When the others have gone home you and I are going to have a little chat at my place, you understand?”
The look Shane gave his coach was part query, part challenge, but at length he nodded, put his phone in his pocket and sauntered over to a bench where he perched and chatted to a teammate who was waiting for his older sister to arrive and ferry him home.
Mandy watched the car pull out of the parking lot, satisfied herself that the clubhouse and the courts were empty, then started to lock up. “Come on,” she said to Shane, picking up her bag and heading to her car.
“Am I in trouble?” Shane asked, with the first sign that he was really starting to feel some genuine remorse for his on court actions.
“I’m still trying to decide,” Mandy answered through pursed lips, swinging the wheel to turn into her driveway.
The cell phone in the girl’s shorts pocket went off as she was unlocking her front door. Despite the situation Shane’s lips quirked up at her ring tone of Pat Benatar’s ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’. Mandy fumbled the phone out of her pocket and pointed Shane in the direction of her couch with a short command of, “Go sit.”
“This is Mandy,” she said into the phone. “Hey Harry. He’ll be okay? Great. Yeah, it’s good his parents see it as an accident. I’ll deal with Shane. See you tomorrow.”
“Is Aaron going to be okay?” Shane asked from the couch, he sat nervously on the edge of it, his tennis bag in front of his feet.
“Yes,” Mandy answered. “They stopped the bleeding and have reset his nose. Apparently he’s got two very impressive black eyes out of it.”
“Sorry,” Shane mumbled.
“I’ll make very sure you say that to Aaron next time you see him, young man,” Mandy promised sternly as she sat down next to Shane.
“What are you going to do about it?” Shane asked her, his blue eyes searching her face for a clue.
“You’re lucky that Aaron and his parents have accepted it was an accident, even though you and I and Harry know it wasn’t. They could have sued the club, you know. If that had happened then I think you’d probably have been forced to leave the club and you know that scholarship you were thinking about with that school, the one with the great training facilities and the excellent courts?”
“Yeah, well you could kiss that goodbye.”
“That’s not going to happen, though?”
“Fortunately, no, but Shane I can’t just let this slide. Combined with your blow up at the tournament it’s going to get noticed. You’ll get a reputation and believe me it is not one you want and will make everything a lot more difficult for you. It also reflects on me as your coach. What do you think I should do?”
“I dunno,” Shane said in a small voice, head down, eyes studying the tops of his trainers.
Mandy exhaled a long ragged breath, she couldn’t believe that both her heart rate and pulse were elevated. She couldn’t see her face, but she knew by the heat that she felt in her cheeks that they were flushed.
“I could suspend you, but that would be rather counter productive and I’d have to tell your parents why…”
“No don’t!” Shane blurted out, his eyes wide.
“Why not?” Mandy asked calmly.
“They’ll stop me playing,” he explained. “They’re already worried that I spend too much time playing tennis and not enough studying or hanging out with kids that aren’t at the club.”
Mandy nodded. That was to be expected with well rounded parents like Shane’s. She made a mental note to speak with them about Shane’s talent, and also reassure them that she would personally make sure his studies and social activities outside of the game didn’t suffer because of his sport.
“So no parents,” Mandy said half to herself, then turned her attention back to the boy. “You really disappointed me Shane, you know that?”
“Yes,” Shane said to the floor.
“Hey!” Mandy barked. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, young man.”
“Yes, Mandy,” Shane said, raising his eyes.
“I think we better stick to Miss Charlston or ma’am for the forseeable future, Mister,” the girl said sternly.
“Yes, ma’am,” the boy nodded.
“A couple of weeks ago you came up with an option for punishment. Were you serious about it?”
Clouds scudded across the boy’s clear blue eyes. “Man…I mean Miss Charlston?”
“You don’t remember?” Mandy pressed. “You suggested that I smack your bottom for on court misbehavior.”
Shane took a deep breath and his face blushed hotly.
“What do you think of a spanking now?” Mandy asked.
“I…ummm…you said you wouldn’t do that,” a clearly nervous Shane countered.
“You hadn’t deliberately injured a team mate then.”
“Will we be okay if you do that?” he asked.
Mandy’s face and voice softened. “Oh honey, of course we will. We’re always okay.” She held her arms out and hugged the young man tightly. “ I don’t want to hear any of that,” she said to him, punctuating it with a firm smack to the seat of his shorts.
Shane disengaged himself from the embrace and stammered, “W…when do we ddo it, ma’am?”
Mandy frowned. She really hadn’t known she was even going to do this until a few moments ago. Shane seemed to want…no need it and now she’d made up her mind. She had to follow through and she had to strike while the iron was hot, that meant Shane would be over her knee this afternoon.
“I believe in doing things while they’re still fresh in the mind, so do you have anywhere you have to be immediately?”
Shane swallowed hard and he answered in a choked voice, “No, Miss Charlston.”
‘Very well,” Mandy said firmly, hoping her expression matched her face. Mandy was genuinely very nervous, she rubbed her hands on the legs of her shorts, hoping that it would remove the sweat she was sure she could feel on them. The girl had never given a spanking, she’d never even seen one administered. The phrase old fashioned over the knee spanking kept springing to mind, so she guessed that was what she had to do. She pointed to her lap and ordered, “Get over my knee.”
Shane nodded, took a deep breath and lay over Mandy’s thighs. Mandy looked down at the tall, slender teen stretched out face down over her lap and tried to remember if she’d locked the door. The last thing she wanted now was someone to enter unexpectedly. She doubted anyone would, although Charmaine had a habit of dropping by without calling and she would just breeze into the house.
Mandy looked down at the tight backside encased by the equally tight white shorts and licked her lips. Charmaine was right, the boy really did have a very nice rear end, it must be all the sport that did it. It had been Mandy’s experience that tennis players had some of the most attractive bums in the world. Shane wriggled and the girl shook her head and remembered why he was there and what for.
She raised her hand and brought it down hard with a loud crack across the white shorts. Shane grunted as he felt the sting, but there was no other reaction and Mandy was surprised by the effect the blow had on her hand. Shane did have a firm bottom, she was sure it had to have hurt him, because it stung her hand a little. She followed that first smack with a volley of similar blows and Shane gasped and started to wriggle, his legs kicked a little involuntarily.
Was this enough? Mandy thought. Her hand stung, but did Shane’s bum? How many slaps constituted a spanking. Everything she had read or heard about them mentioned red bottoms and tear stained faces. Shane had grunted and gasped, he had squirmed a little, but she hadn’t heard an ouch yet. Maybe it was the shorts. Maybe they needed to come down. How could she see how red his backside was getting with them on?
“Get up, Shane,” Mandy said.
The boy rose obediently. He stood in front of her and he rubbed his just smacked bottom, but she could see from his face that she hadn’t really made much of an impact.
“Is that it?” he asked and his voice was rather disappointed, he also sounded a little contemptuous of Mandy’s skill as a disciplinarian.
It was the derisive tone that burned Mandy. She was a high achiever, she succeeded in everything that she did. If she was going to spank Shane she was going to do damn good job and that was not the case at present.
“No,” she said in a strong voice. “That is not it young man? I also didn’t hear you call me ma’am or Miss Charlston.” Her hand shot out and slapped a tanned thigh. Shane yelped and Mandy watched the handprint fill with red, a small smile of satisfaction on her face.
“Sorry Miss Charlston,” Shane said in a more respectful voice.
“Take your shorts off,” Mandy commanded. She could hardly believe that she had actually said that, her head felt light.
Shane stared at her, disbelief written across his young face.
“Go on,” Mandy urged. “You heard me. Take them off.”
Shane frowned, but did as he was told. His face flushed as he stood up, his shorts in an untidy white pile on the ground next to his sneakered feet. Mandy sighed. Boys!
“Pick them up, fold them and put them on the chair, please Shane. While you’re at it you can take your shoes off, too. You’re not going to need them for a while.”
With a hard swallow Shane undid his laces and took off his shoes, using his toes in their sports socks to push them under the couch. He picked up his shorts and folded them neatly before placing them on the chair that Mandy had indicated.
“Back over you get,” the girl ordered, jade eyes flicking back to her lap.
As Shane lay over Mandy’s tanned and toned thighs he thought to himself that he had asked for this. Although he found Mandy very attractive, he didn’t know of anyone who didn’t, this wasn’t a sexual thing. He regarded Mandy as a little like an older sister or a youngish aunt, she treated him that way most of the time, and that was why he wanted the spanking. He had developed a bit of a problem controlling his temper, his parents said it was his age, books about growing up attributed it to something called hormones, he hated what his temper made him do and he knew it reflected badly on Mandy when he lost it on court, so maybe if she gave him a sore bottom it would help him control it.
Mandy looked down at Shane’s boxer short covered bottom and regarded it. The boxers seemed looser than his tennis shorts, but they were quite thin and covered less ground. She could see patches of soft pink around the edges of the shorts, where the effect of her earlier spanks had spread. She could even feel a little warmth through the short’s insubstantial covering. She placed a palm on his buttocks, lifted it off and brought it down hard.
“Felt that one didn’t we?” Mandy asked.
“Yes, ma’am!” Shane had time to gasp before Mandy’s hand slapped down again.
Now this was more like it, Mandy thought. This was what a spanking was meant to be. Shane was squirming and trying to avoid her slaps. The faint pink flush around the bottoms of his boxers was spreading down his legs and deepening to a roseate glow. She could feel heat rising up through the thin material of the underwear. She was also gaining quite a feeling of power and deep satisfaction. Her face was flushed, she was perspiring lightly and her shortness of breath was not entirely caused by the exertion of the punishment.
Mandy stopped and monitored Shane. He was gulping in air and grunting with each slap. His body jerked and wriggled every time Mandy’s hard palm impacted his firm adolescent cheeks. The oowws and ouches came with every stinging blow now and his ankles had started to cross and uncross as the spanking continued and the temperature rose.
There was one thing that concerned Mandy. Shane had not said he was sorry for any of the things that had led to this situation and there were no tears. Again Mandy was no expert, but from what she knew spankings were meant to make the recipient cry. Shane didn’t sound close to that, so she must be doing something wrong.
The girl who had been spanked by her mother on the tour had said her mother used a hairbrush on her backside when she was spanked. Mandy had expressed horror at the time, but one of the other girls in the dressing room confessed that when she was growing up and she needed her bottom warmed it was always her mother’s hairbrush that did the job and it was on her bare bottom, too.
Mandy wondered if that was where she needed to take this. Shane clearly needed reining in and it seemed he was responding to the spanking, but she needed to hear genuine remorse for what he had done and she wanted tears. Her thoughts went to the bamboo hairbrush she had in her bedroom. It was a heavy rectangular object, with a nice long handle and a broad back that would easily span one of Shane Dennison’s undeniably pretty little cheeks. But bare bottom? Could she do that? Should she do it? Did it cross a line?
Biting her bottom lip in concentration Mandy unleashed a stinging volley right where Shane sat. He yelled and his legs kicked, but she still felt there was something lacking. “Up you get,” she said to the boy.
Shane awkwardly got to his feet and stood in front of her. His eyes were dry, but she did notice that his hands were quite busy rubbing what she was sure were a pretty hot pair of tomatoes under those thin shorts.
“Have I been spanked now, Miss Charlston?”
“What do you think, Shane?” Mandy asked, sitting back in her chair and crossing one leg over the other.
“My bottom is sore and hot, ma’am,” the boy said.
“That wasn’t my question, sweetheart.”
Shane looked at his pretty tennis coach and he was thinking hard. “Aaron shouldn’t have said what he did about the game the other week.”
“Oh Shane,” Mandy sighed. “You broke his nose for that darling. I think you do need a little more thinking time over my lap, young man.”
Shane took a deep breath and prepared to lay himself back over Mandy’s lap. The girl held up a finger and said, “Not quite so fast. You just stand there and do not move a muscle. I’ll be back.” She stood gracefully and left the room.
Shane stood in the small living room, trying to rub away some of the fire that Mandy had lit on his rear end and wondered what was coming. What he had said was true, his backside was hot and it did sting, but there was something missing. He didn’t really feel sorry about Aaron’s nose. To be completely honest Mandy’s spanking was a bit of a disappointment, it felt nothing like the stories on the websites he shouldn’t have been looking at said it did. It hurt a bit, but she hadn’t done it on the bare bottom and there wasn’t that burning sting the stories spoke about, nor did it make him feel like he or Mandy were getting anything out of it.
Mandy returned, she had a bath towel in one hand and there was a rectangular hairbrush in the other. One the stories Shane read spoke about those, it was known as a paddle brush. Seeing it Shane could see why, it looked like a small paddle with bristles on one side.
The girl tossed the towel to Shane. He removed his hands from his burning backside and caught it awkwardly.
“Put that around you and then take off your boxers,” Mandy said.
“Man…Miss Charlston?” Shane said, his tone filled with wonder.
“I think you heard me, dear,” Mandy said, her foot tapping impatiently.
Shane wrapped the towel around his waist and fastened it in place, then dropped his boxers under it. He stepped out of them and picked them up, folding them before placing them on his shorts. While the boy had been doing that Mandy had sat down again, she used the head of the hairbrush to point to her lap and indicated where she wanted the young tennis player.
Once Shane was once again centred in her lap Mandy looked down on the towel covered behind and undid the towel. She drew in breath as the adolescent bottom was unveiled. It had a lovely rosy glow and it was actually warm to the touch. Mandy lifted and squeezed each cheek gently, just marveling at the feel of them.
A stirring under the towel that pressed insistently into Mandy’s smooth tanned thigh brought a frown to the girl’s face. She hadn’t meant to do that. Playtime was over. It was time for the spanking to recommence.
The brush was very different to the hand. She had to compensate for the fact that it had a handle and that it was less yielding than her hand, but she felt she could get a good connection with it, a nice loud crack with each stinging smack and a loud yell in answer.
Mandy peppered the boy’s madly wriggling hindquarters with sharp blows from her hairbrush. They went from rose to a deep rich glowing cherry red. She worked the bottom over methodically, going from the crowns to the upper thighs. The tops of the legs were tenderer than the rest and they reddened up quickly. In fact Shane’s struggles were so vigorous that Mandy found it necessary to lock one of her legs over Shane’s to prevent him from falling off her lap. Shane was a fit healthy adolescent boy, but Mandy exercised every day, her body was fully mature and grown and she had never gotten out of the habit of regular gym workout since her professional playing days.
The girl continued to spank steadily and then as Shane’s backside reached furnace like temperatures the floodgates broke and she heard him sob. A smile broke out on her face. This was what she had wanted.
“I’m soreeee, Mandeee!” Shane wailed.
Mandy didn’t bother to reprimand him for forgetting the ma’am or the Miss Charlston, she had gotten him to where she wanted now.
“Why are you sorry, young man?” she asked without missing a beat of the spanking, brushing his sit spot firmly.
‘Because I broke Aaron’s nose!” Shane blubbered.
“Are you sorry for losing your temper?”
“Yes! Yes! Yesssss! I’m sorreeeee!”
Mandy felt that Shane was genuine and his bottom must have been absolutely on fire. She brought the spanking to a climax with a few more sizzling swipes from the brush across his crowns. She lifted the sobbing boy off her lap, and then wrapping the towel around him again gathered him into her lap. She noticed that the erection she had felt through the towel earlier had disappeared, although he was still half hard. She held the boy’s trembling body to her and let him blubber into her shoulder, while she rubbed his back soothingly and stroked his hair.
When she felt he was cried out, she let him up, clucked over the state of his face. Not only had he cried, but his nose had run and he had also drooled. Mandy cleaned him up, and walked him to a corner of the room. She had arranged his hands on his head, taken off the towel, placed it on a nearby table, so he could reach it without exposing himself, warned him to stay there and then poured herself a glass of lemonade from a pitcher in the fridge.
Mandy sipped her lemonade and said to Shane, “You can turn around now, sweetie.”
Shane put the towel around himself, and gave Mandy a look that was filled with affection. “You can get dressed again, then sit with me and have some lemonade.”
Shane’s winces were not lost on Mandy as he replaced his boxer shorts and the tight shorts. She knew he must be on fire underneath them. She put a big soft pillow on the couch cushion next to her and Shane eased himself carefully onto it. He gulped at the first glass of lemonade Mandy poured him and she gave him a second one.
“Thank you Miss Charlston,” Shane said seriously.
“You needed that, didn’t you?”
“Do you think you’ll need it again?”
Shane frowned into his glass. “If I start getting all angry on the court again can you do it, please?”
“You want me to spank you again?”
“Uh huh,” Shane sipped his drink. “I think it helps.”
Shane was as good as his word and every three to six months he seemed to need a refresher course over Mandy’s lap. It worked though and his tennis game went from strength to strength. Mandy built up a small squad of young players who benefited from this rather unusual training method over the years.
Just before the Australian season had started, the one that had culminated in the young man’s first major, he had appeared at Mandy’s door. He had a present for her. It was a very high quality oak hairbrush. Mandy had christened it over Shane’s bottom that very afternoon, and now he was celebrating the high point of his career. He was also considered one of the most even tempered players in the top echelon.
Mandy smiled to herself as she left her seat to go join the victory party, she patted her handbag to make sure that her new hairbrush was with her. She didn’t expect to need it, but one never knew.