The Gift


He had seen it in an antique shop window. He had no idea why it had attracted his attention. It was beautiful to be sure. But a second hand hairbrush, it was not his usual style.

Brian had already spent a fortune on a ring, some perfume and a food processor. But this was their first Christmas together and he wanted to make that extra special effort.

“Oh, that brush.” The old man in the shop had finally realised what Brian was after. “It has quite a history you know. A very fine piece but almost no one ever notices it. I don’t think anyone has inquired about it for 20 years.”

He was a strange old coot, bearded with a full head of wizened white hair that obscured his face as did the long snowy eyebrows. He could have made a fortune playing Father Christmas.

“No one has ever bought it after all this time? Why do you bother to give it pride of place in the window?” Brian was curious.

“Pride of place? Is that how it seems to you?” He smiled. “Oh it would I suppose. No I have sold it many times, but I am always prepared to buy back such an object once it has served its purpose.”

“Its purpose, it’s a hairbrush, although it hardly seems hygienic to use it.” Brian was beginning to wonder why he wanted it at all.

“A hairbrush can have many purposes, this one has been owned by many over the years, it is very old.”

“How old exactly? I don’t recognise the style it almost looks medieval, pre-Victorian certainly.” Brian was fascinated by the bone-like quality of the wood and the bristles looked clean, like they had just been, just been what? Plucked from the hedgehog? The looked like silver or chrome, but he knew that they were natural.

“Oh pre-Victorian, certainly.” The old man chuckled. “They say it was once a gift to a lady of the manor in these parts.”

“Manor? What manor? The streets around here are at least 300 years old. There can have been no manor here since before the reign of the Tudors.” Brian wanted to mock the old man’s pretensions but something about the brush suggested that it was no story.

“Indeed yes, but the brush is far older than that, some say it is pre-Norman, some say it was used in this land even before the Romans.” The man’s eyes had a twinkle.

“I notice you don’t say it.” Brian smiled. “How much for this priceless heirloom, the envy no doubt, of the British Museum?”

“Make me an offer.”

“I doubt I can afford it if half what you say is true.” Brian’s mouth was suddenly dry. At that moment, he wanted it as a gift for Anne more than he could understand.

“Make me an offer.” The old man persisted.

“Fifty pounds.” Brian said. It was far too much for bric-a-brac and nowhere near enough for a genuine pre-industrial antique.

“I accept.”

Brian was about to protest; he knew he had been swindled in someway. He was determined to leave so he did. Although he did not quite recall opening the door and moments later he could not quite remember where the shop was. Come to think of it, he had lived here for years and had never noticed it before. The whole incident may have faded from his mind if it were not for the presence of the hairbrush in a plain brown paper bag slipped in among his other shopping items and the absence of one twenty and three ten pound notes from his wallet.

That night as he was wrapping his strange purchase he felt a strange contentment as he handled the smooth ivory-like wood. For the first time he noticed that the distinctive grain looked more like a pattern or writing even. Nothing he could discern, but it reminded him of runes or the sort of notation often found in the margins of ornate medieval manuscripts. Then almost with reluctance he inserted the brush into a cardboard tube ready to be wrapped in paper.

Christmas morning came soon enough as it always does and Anne bounced up and down like a little girl as each package was opened. She shrieked with joy as she laid eyes on the ring and she hugged the food processor in its box like it was a child. The perfume even extracted a kiss.

He had hoped that she would open the hairbrush package first, it being the lesser of the gifts, but strangely he was not disappointed by her chosen order.

“What’s this?” She smiled as she shook the tube.

He shrugged nonchalantly.

She responded by tearing into the parcel. He thought he caught a brief look of disappointment on her face before she took up the ancient object in her hands.

“Its lovely. Wherever did you find it?” She seemed transfixed as he had been, her fingers caressed the wood and her eyes seemed faraway.

“I don’t remember. A shop down by.” He shook his head. “The man said, I don’t remember. It’s an antique. Its very old.”

“Most antiques are very old.” She teased.

Only when she teased it sounded like she was being bitchy. It was a poor habit of hers. It had always irritated him even if she meant nothing by it.

Their first Christmas together was almost everything she had hoped. Her first attempt at a turkey dinner followed by Christmas pudding had more or less gone without a hitch.

Neither of them felt much like charades and after a few glasses of Remy Martin VSOP, they both slipped into bed to sleep.

That night Anne dreamed. She was not usually one for dreaming, not that she remembered anyway so this night was doubly strange. In her dream she found herself in a cool dark wood. It was a vivid green beyond anything she had ever seen in her waking hours and the floor of the forest was covered with exotic flowers, some that she had never seen.

“I must remember those blue ones when I wake up.” She said.

“You won’t.” The forest replied, but it was friendly enough.

She went deeper into the wood until she heard the sound of music. That, of course, was an invitation so she walked on. Soon she heard not only music but the sound of chipping and sanding. There in a glade was a beautiful boy working a piece of cloud-white wood. The boy was a man and by his eyes she could tell he was old.

“What are you making?” Anne asked in wonder.

“It will be a hairbrush once I have found the unicorn hair for its bristles.”

Anne laughed at the ridiculousness that he believed in unicorns and told him so.

“Your ignorance and scorn show disrespect.” He snapped.

“My ignorance?” She giggled. “Who is this for anyway?”

“Eventually it will be for you, but that time is yet to be.” He replied cryptically.

“How can it be for me? We have only just met.” Anne said, not without a little scorn.

“It will come to many who need it and in time you will be one.” He replied. “Now go before I spank you for your impudence.”

“You would not dare.” Anne gasped suddenly aroused by his threat.

The ancient boy turned to look at her and made to put down the makings of his brush. She knew that he would.

Next to her in bed, Brian lay also dreaming. He often dreamt, but nothing that he cared to remember, but this night was different.

He was in a cool dark wood and everywhere he turned, he could hear music, although he could not find its source. Anyway, it was Anne that he was looking for and the unearthly music was just a distraction.

“Damn the woman she was always slipping away from him.”

“You should take her in hand.” Said the unicorn.

“How am I supposed to do that?” Brian asked, not the least surprised that he was talking to a unicorn.

“You will know when the time comes. She is waiting for you to show her the way.” The unicorn replied.

Then he heard a commotion some way off and recognised Anne’s voice at once. He hurried through the wood until he came to a glade. There sitting on a fallen tree trunk was a man who looked like no other he had ever seen, although he did remind him of the old man in the shop.

“The shop. How could I have forgotten the shop? I must remember it when I wake up.”

“You won’t.” Said the forest.

Brian might have argued the point but by now other things had taken his attention. Across the knees of the sitting man was Anne and she had been stripped from the waist down so that her bottom was bare. The man was spanking her with great vigour, although he did not seem to be much vexed by the exertion.

“Please help.” Anne wailed as her bottom became redder.

Brian’s instinct was to run to her aid, but he knew in his heart that she deserved the spanking. She always deserved a spanking. In fact when this strange youth was finished he would have his turn.

“Now where did that thought come from?” He asked the ceiling.

“What did you say?” Anne said from beside him rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Oh god.” He yawned. “I just had the strangest dream.”

“So did I.” Anne blushed her hand straying to her bottom. “I was.”

She broke off not meeting his eyes.

Neither felt much like discussing their dreams, each for their own reasons. Although Brian did noticed a strange thing, almost an echo from his experience in the forest he thought. As Anne stood up naked and headed for the bathroom, he noticed that her bottom was quite red as if it had been chafing the sheets or someone had given her a sound spanking while she slept.

Anne had been disturbed by her dream. As she stood under the shower and let the water play across her naked body, she pondered on her experience. Two things troubled her about the spanking. Firstly, she had not done very much to deserve it. After all, she had only spoken to the ancient boy as she had spoken to her husband many times before. Secondly, being denuded from the waist and upended over a man’s lap had moved her when she should have been outraged.

“It was only a dream.” She chided herself as she rubbed her bottom. But she could almost still feel the effects of her chastisement.

After her shower, she could hear Brian downstairs making breakfast so as she got dressed she took the opportunity to examine the hairbrush. It was strange, but she could swear that the brush was the same one that the ancient youth was making in her dream.

She had been spanked by hand but now that she held the brush, she remembered the man’s words. She imagined that if the brush had been ready then he would have used it for its intended purpose. Now where had that thought come from? She realised that she had known what he had meant that all along. She also remembered that it had been destined for her one day.

She felt a tightness in her stomach that extended lower. She imagined being stripped below the waist and put across a man’s knee for a spanking. Only this time she pictured Brian doing it. She hastily put the brush down and finished getting dressed.

She went into the kitchen to see what Brian had prepared.

“Why are you carrying that?” He asked.

She glanced at her hands in horror and realised that she was still holding the hairbrush.

“I put it down. I know I did.” She said more to herself than him.

“Well put it down now, I’ve made bacon and eggs with mushrooms.” He replied setting two steaming plates down on the table.

“I am sorry for what I said.” She said as she handed him the brush. She was embarrassed for no reason but it felt right.

“What did you say?” He asked taking the brush and testing its weight against his palm.

“I said I am sorry.” Her eyes were downcast.

“Yes but what for?” He pretended to be puzzled, but all her snide comments and all the times she had been deliberately late to get attention came back to him.

“You know.” She blushed.

“Yes.” He swallowed; the brush in his hands gave him a sense of purpose. “I know. What do you think I should do about it?”

“You know that as well.”

“It’ll hurt.” He said sternly moving closer.

“I think it is supposed to.”

She had tied her hair back in a ponytail and he seized it firmly forcing her eyes up to meet his. He held out the brush to her, presenting her with the flat side.

“What I am about to do cannot be undone. Are you sure?” He no longer cared if she were sure, he was in command now, but part of him still had to go through the social niceties of their age.

She dare not speak. She knew that they belonged to another time now. She leant forward and kissed the back of the brush lovingly, licking it a little.

He led her by the hair into the lounge, she made no protest, not even when he draped her across his lap as he sat down and raised her skirt. He pinned her wrists and her skirt to the small of her back with his left hand and lowered her Marks and Spencer’s knickers with his right.

She whimpered a little as she felt the breeze on her bared buttocks. The heating was on and there was no draft, but the light touch of the air transported her back to the forest of her dream.

There was a pistol-like report that she did not immediately associate with the sting in her bottom. Then it was repeated and the association was made.

He had never spanked a woman before, but he felt as if he was born to it and had been doing it all his life. Where the brush had fallen there was a bright red oval, like a pool filling with scarlet as he looked on. He added to the pattern, then matched it on her other cheek.

Her mouth moved as if she were trying to speak. He realised that part of her was trying to assert control, looking for a witty comeback or give him instructions on how to proceed. Wisely, she said nothing. He struck again, the smack of the brush competing with her soft gasp, which was louder somehow.

He struck each bottom cheek in turn. Not like that she wanted to say. But it was beginning to hurt and she had no say. Then he took her across both cheeks. Yes, she thought and began to weep. I can’t bear this, which is how it must be.

The spanking went on and on. Brian wondered briefly if it was him or the brush in control, but he didn’t care, he needed to do this and he did not want to stop. Anne, herself had no reason to know or care, she definitely had no say. She was sobbing openly now in full boohooing tradition.

After a long while Anne began to struggle a little and bit down on the sofa they were sitting on. Brian realised she was done for now, but allowed the brush to do its work for a few minutes more. Then he decided to stop.

He pulled Anne into his arms and she cried hard hugging him for his life.

“We needed that.” He said after some time had passed.

“Yes.” She said still weeping. “Breakfast will be ruined, shall I make some more.”

“After you have stood in the corner for an hour or so.” He said firmly.

She turned to look at him ready to be outraged at the suggestion. But his eyes said it was no suggestion and she knew she would obey.

“Are you alright?” He asked more than an hour later.

She hated standing with her nose where the wall met and wanted to complain. Instead, she said sulkily:

“Quite the home from home.”

“Good, because it will be from now on.” He growled. “Now go and make that breakfast and keep it bare.”

She had been about to repair her dress but tucked it back up at his command and scampered into the kitchen to obey him.

A month and six or seven spankings later Brian was out for a walk when he noticed the antique shop where he bought the brush. On a whim, he entered and found the same old man.

“That brush I bought, it worked out well for us.”

“I know.” The man replied enigmatically.

“I only have it on loan, don’t I?” Brian realised.

“Sort of. Keep it for now, pass it on to your children, if you never have any then bring it back to me, I can always find another buyer. In time.” The old man shrugged. “Can I sell you something else?”

“You have other items like the brush?” Brian’s interest was piqued.

“I have many interesting things, you would be surprised.”

“Can I look them over, I may want to pick something.”

“You don’t pick the gifts, they pick you. But I feel sure there are other things here for you or else you would not have found the shop again.”

Brian now knew better than to ask, he cast his eyes about realising that he saw many things but could not focus on any of them. Then he saw it.

“Is that what I think it is?” He gasped.

“It depends. What do you think it is?”


10 Responses to “The Gift”

  1. Hairbrush to heaven, on a cold winter’s night, it would be for me to spank such a beautiful bare bottom this holiday season.

  2. What a charming story. Thank you for writing that for us.


    • 3 DJ

      Thank you I hoped it was seasonal.

      It is actually a sequel to a story that I meant to post a few weeks back.

      So may be I’ll post the first part second in the new year.


  3. 4 lil Sam

    I really enjoyed the story, Sure hope you post the first part in the new year,
    Look forward to reading it
    Merry Christmas
    Hugs Lil Sam

  4. 5 jean

    Great story, thanks for sharing it

  5. I never reply to links…. but it was an intriguing moment, thank you for taking me to a place, where I felt I always belonged… My wife, was very much that girl, in 1968, we have shared many giving moments such as your story, and we love each other as much as we had the first day we met. Thank you

    • 7 Damian Black

      Hi Chatham

      I am glad you liked the story, thank you.

      Just for clarity’s sake – you replied to The Gift – do you mean that in 1968 you found a magic hairbrush? 😉 Or are you refering to the posts on Aunt Alice or Angela’s Story?

      Cheers DJ

  6. 8 Hardwood

    Interesting Story!

  7. 9 Enchantress4Ever

    Great story but you left me wanting more to both parts. Especially the first part. You are a great author. I can’t wait to read more of your work. Thank you for sharing. 🙂

  1. 1 - Chross Guide To The Spanking Internet

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