His big brother is not amused

z-used-big-brother-with-brush

“I can’t believe you’ve been so stupid, after all I’ve done for you this is how you repay me,” Frank eyed his younger brother disdainfully. “And, you might’ve ruined your whole future, you stupid little …” he trailed off, before his anger got the better of him.

Anthony (Ant to his friends, but not to his eldest brother) slumped on the worn settee. Who did Frank think he was talking to like that?

“There’ll probably be a court case, you know that.” Frank paced the room, barely controlling his temper. “It’ll be in the Clarion for everyone to read about. You stupid …” Frank’s usually placid face was puce. “You were going to get A-levels, go to university. That’s why I took you in.”

Anthony wriggled uncomfortably, his brother had touched a nerve. Frank was twenty-five years old, the eldest of four boys. Their dad had walked out years ago, and when mum found herself another bloke and got married they didn’t want Anthony around spoiling the fun. He was sixteen at the time, old enough to fly the coop and get a job.

But, Anthony was a bright boy; he did well at school, which was more than could be said for any of his brothers. Frank worked in a factory for a while and when that went to the wall, he found a job at a call centre. All not much more than minimum wage jobs, but it kept a roof over his head. He did a deal with Anthony, he should stay on at school, get his A-levels and come and live with Frank. It was tough, Anthony would have to get a weekend job at a supermarket and pay something for his keep.

It went rather well, or so Frank thought. Anthony was now just weeks away from his examinations and if his coursework and “mocks” were an indication, he would ace his A-levels. University here he comes.

But, now this.

“I cannot believe you would be so stupid.” Frank was not letting up. Anthony pouted. Why wouldn’t his brother just get off his case?

“Stealing!” Frank shrieked. “From the same supermarket where you worked …” he trailed off, unable to complete his sentence.

“Everyone does it,” Anthony shrugged.

“Everyone! You’re not everyone.” Frank clenched his fist, any moment now he would punch his stupid brother in the face. He paced up and down the small sitting room, trying to control his anger.

“Now, you’ve got the sack and the police are involved. You’ll have a criminal record. Say goodbye to university.”

Anthony sighed, “It doesn’t work like that,” he began. He stopped when he saw Frank’s eyes blazing.

“You …” Frank couldn’t find the words.

“If they stopped people with criminal records going to university, they’d have no students,” Anthony’s heart raced. He didn’t like rowing with Frank. His brother wasn’t the brightest star in the sky, he could always beat him in an argument. “Think of all those drug convictions.”

Frank stood shaking. Oh, he thought, how he needed a drink. After all he had done for Anthony. He had been so proud when he got a place at sixth-form college. He was going to be the first person ever in the family to go to university.

“Really,” Anthony tried to calm his brother. “It won’t affect Uni. I’ll get a fine, probably.”

Frank fumed. “And, who’s going to pay that? And, how can you pay for your keep here with no job?”

“I’ll get another job.”

“Not with a criminal record, you won’t.” Frank glared at his younger brother. The brat just didn’t seem to care. He was supposed to be bright, didn’t he know his actions had consequences?

Anthony shuffled in his seat. Perhaps, Frank was right.

“Don’t think I’m letting you stay here after this,” Frank was surprised to hear himself say. “Go sponge off someone else.”

“C’mon Frank,” Anthony eyed his brother, he had never before seen him like this.

“I mean it. You’ve got to pack and go.”

Anthony blanched. His brother meant it too.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“What!” Frank exploded. “How can you do that. You can’t turn the clock back.”

“No, I promise I’ll never do it again. I’ll be good.”

“Hah! You don’t seem the least bit concerned,” Frank sneered. “Everybody does it,” he mimicked Anthony from earlier. “It won’t stop me going to Uni.”

Anthony blushed. His brother was right, he didn’t care. He wasn’t the only Saturday lad caught stealing whisky. Someone or other did it every weekend. They’d take the bottles of booze over to the waste ground and drink them. They hadn’t realised a new manager had taken over and his underlings were trying to impress him. So, blind eyes were no longer being turned.

Suddenly, Frank stopped his pacing. Anthony watched alarmed as his brother darted from the room. What was he up to?

He found out a minute or so later when Frank returned grim-faced. “This,” he spluttered. “This is what you deserve.” He violently waved an old, heavy hairbrush.

Anthony’s jaw dropped. What the …?

“A spanking,” Frank’s eyes narrowed with determination. “That’ll buck your ideas up. That’ll make you give a damn.” He waved the brush at his brother, in case there was any doubts about his intention.

“Don’t be daft,” Anthony squirmed. “Nobody gets spanked these days.”

“We’ll now’s a good time to start,” Frank advanced towards Anthony, brandishing the hairbrush.

“No gerroff!” Anthony swatted his brother’s arm away and slunk into the settee. “Leave me alone.”

Frank towered over Anthony. He grabbed his left wrist and hauled him to his feet. Standing up, he was only an inch or two taller. Anthony struggled, but his brother’s grip was firm. Their heads were only inches apart, Anthony could smell Frank’s foul breath.

“Here’s the deal,” Frank’s face was set. He meant what he was about to say. “You can either pack your bags and go. Take your chances. Or, you can have a spanking,” His stare intensified as he tried to read Anthony’s mind. “A proper spanking. You take down your trousers. And your pants and you let me whack your arse with this.” He waved the brush menacingly.

Anthony felt tears prick the back of his eyes. Any moment they wold be flowing down his cheeks. This was not for real. It couldn’t be. How could he pack his bags and go? Where to? He’d be on the streets; in a cardboard box. That would be the end of his A-levels. He really wouldn’t get to university.

He said none of this aloud, but Frank read his thoughts. He had won. His little brother would submit himself to his will. He released his grip on Anthony. “Let’s get on with this, shall we?”

Anthony hesitated. A spanking? What did that even mean? Was Frank going to take him across his knee? And, he had said trousers and pants down; bare arsed. That would just be too humiliating.

Frank took hold of a dusty heavy armchair and edged it around until its back faced toward him. He pointed to a spot on the carpet a foot or two behind it. “Stand there.”

Anthony’s mouth opened and closed but so sound came. He wanted to protest. To make a plea for clemency. But, he knew there was no point. Matters had to take their course. He had to submit to his brother, only then could he hope to regain Frank’s approval. He would subject himself to this humiliation, take a spanking, and then, perhaps, they could both move on with their lives. He stood behind the chair.

Frank’s breathing had been tight, it eased considerably now, but his heart was still thumping so hard he thought it would burst through his chest. “Take down your jeans and your pants.” He croaked the instruction. All saliva had drained from his mouth. Oh, he reckoned, how he needed a drink.

Anthony could not look at his brother. Then, a strange thought struck him. It had been ten years or more since Frank had seen him without his trousers; it was when three brothers used to share a bedroom. The thought gave him a strange comfort. He loved his brother, he didn’t ever show it much, but it was true. And, Frank loved him too. Look at all the sacrifice he had made since mum remarried.

Even with this comforting thought, Anthony struggled to undo his belt and pop the rivets in his jeans. His god-damn hands would not obey his brain’s instructions. At last, the denims were bunched at his shins. He felt his face burn as he stood in his underpants, his fingers trembling. From the corner of his eye, he saw his brother move toward him. Anthony was too slow to stop him. In a second, Frank had gripped the waistband of Anthony’s pants and swooshed them to his brother’s thighs. The teenager’s buttocks were naked and his cock and balls dangled in the breeze.

“Get over.” The command was calmer than Frank felt. What had he been thinking? Had he ever expected Anthony to agree to be spanked? Well, it was too late now. He simply had to go through with it. He couldn’t lose face. Besides, deep down, Frank suspected a real hard spanking would do his brother good. It should stop him ever stealing again.

Slowly, Anthony eased himself over the chair. He had never been spanked in his life and had never seen anyone spanked. He couldn’t recall seeing anything like it in a movie or on TV. How was this done? He relied on instinct. The back of the chair was high enough for the eighteen-year-old to rest his stomach against it. He reached forward and gripped the far end of the seat cushion. His feet were parted by twelve inches or so. He closed his eyes. He was ready.

Anthony’s tee-shirt was short and had ridden away from the target area. There was nothing more for Frank to do except whack his heavy, wooden hairbrush into his brother’s naked bum. He stood close to his brother so that his swing approached from above. From this angle, Anthony’s buttocks looked soft and round. Frank pressed the brush into the flesh to test how much “give” there was. Anthony was nowhere near fat, but there was some padding in the boy’s bum.

Frank took a deep breath and lifted the brush high and whacked it against Anthony’s left cheek. A deep pink imprint of the hairbrush’s head immediately appeared. Anthony sucked in breath, but otherwise was immobile.

Frank hesitated, he hadn’t expected to see the outline of the brush on his brother’s otherwise white bum. It looked pretty sore. He looked across the chair at his brother’s head. The back of his neck was reddening, but Frank didn’t know if this was because of pain or just that his head was down low so blood must be rushing to it. He took aim on the right cheek and let fly. Another mark instantly appeared. Anthony sucked in air.

Frank was no expert at spanking, but he guessed that a spanking was supposed to hurt, otherwise what was the point of it? He took aim again and pounded six hard whacks across Anthony’s bum. The eighteen-year-old felt those. His knees buckled and his feet slipped against the worn carpet. Pain started at his buttocks and shot up and down his legs. It took his breath away. “Huff-huff-huff” he gasped and he hacked out a dry cough.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Frank thought to himself. He crashed another dozen all over the target, from the top of the cheeks where they meet the spine, over the hills and into the sensitive sit-spot near the thighs. Anthony’s hips wriggled and his bum rose and fell, and he gripped the cushion determined not to make a fool of himself by jumping up and rubbing away at his bum. That was what he wanted to do but no way, he promised himself, would he do it.

Anthony’s bum look blistered. The deep pink had turned to cherry in some places and bruises were already starting on the outer edges of the arse. One last assault, Frank thought. He gripped the heavy hairbrush tightly, took a step backward so he would approach the target from a different angle and bashed another dozen all over the cheeks.

Anthony did the marching on the spot thing and swung his head back. His mouth was too dry for him to yelp so his cries were silent. Tears stung his eyes. Blood rushed through his arteries at such speed he was sure it would flood out of his nose.

“Stand up,” Frank was exhausted. Who would have known that delivering a spanking could take so much out of you?

Anthony shot to his feet. His bum was aglow. He didn’t care who saw, he rubbed and he rubbed away at his busted buttocks. He was glad tears were not flowing. It was some moments before he realised his cock and balls were bouncing up and down. Frank pretended not to notice, but he was pleased that his kid brother’s prick was a lot shorter than his own.

Slowly, Anthony dressed himself. There wasn’t much more to say, so he shuffled off to his bedroom, where he threw himself face-down onto the bed, pulled a pillow into his face and sobbed his guts up.

The two brothers never spoke of the spanking again. But, three years later, on the day of Anthony’s graduation from university, Frank was surprised to receive a gift in the mail. A hairbrush.

 

Other stories you might like

 

The coach and the schoolmaster

The sneak thief

That Connor boy!

 

More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website

Charles Hamilton the Second

charleshamiltonthesecond@gmail.com

 

 

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