“Come here, I wanna talk to you,” Vicky instructed. He
walked over and sat next to her on the sofa, hoping that
the tone he detected in her voice was not anything to be
concerned about.
“D’you remember where you said you went to lunch
Wednesday of last week?” she queried.
“Uhh, not really, that was several days ago,” he
responded.
“I remember,” Vicky continued, “you said you went with
Rob to the pizza place. A little bird told me that you
went to that titty bar – the Cabaret.”
“Oh, that,” he said, feeling his mouth go dry and his
words difficult to enunciate. “Well, we were going to go
to the pizza place, but Rob really wanted to go to the
Cabaret, so we went there.”
“Oh, really?!” Vicky said, her lips forming a slight
smile and raising her eyebrows. “This little bird also
told me that she saw you go in the Cabaret alone and
leave alone.”
He looked downward, his heart pounding, knowing that
he’d been caught in a lie, and not knowing what to say.
After a few seconds, Vicky grasped his chin and turned
his face so that he had to look at her. He immediately
cast his eyes away from hers.
“Why did you lie?” she asked, simply, with no trace of
anger in her voice.
“I don’t know,” he responded. “I guess I thought you
wouldn’t approve.”
“It’s true that I wouldn’t have approved; but I wouldn’t
have been too upset – ‘least not for long – and I
wouldn’t have felt the need to do what I’m going to do
today.”
“Vicky, please don’t be mad at me,” his voice trailed
off.
“I’m not mad. But you do have a choice. We can either
call it quits and stop seeing each other, or you can
make amends.”
“You know I want to make amends, Vicky, don’t you?” he
asked as tears welled up in his eyes.
“Not so fast,” Vicky continued. “You don’t know what I
had in mind, and I want you to make the decision that’s
right for you.”
“What do you mean?” he asked tentatively, staring
vacantly at her dishwater-blonde hair.
“Well,” Vicky explained, “if you wanna continue to have
a relationship, the only way I’ll do that is if I give
you a good switchin’.”
He was stunned by what he just heard. “A… switching?!”
“Yes,” she stated matter-of-factly. “A proper switchin’.
And it won’t be easy for you, because I expect you to
take it properly. And it’s gonna be a GOOD switchin’. I
guarantee you, it will not be a picnic for you. I’ll
give you five minutes to think it over. When I come back
in here, tell me what you decide.” Then she got up and
left the room.
Conflicting thoughts raced through his head. Is it going
to hurt? Of course it will hurt! How much will she
switch me? What did she mean by saying I have to take it
properly? Will I be able to take it? I don’t know.
Should I try? What if I can’t take it like she wants,
will she still break up with me?
Man, oh man, why did I get myself into this? Who the
hell is that ‘little bird’ who squealed on me? Does she
work there, was it someone else that doesn’t like me,
who could it be? Will she ever tell me who it was? Geez,
I shouldn’t have lied to her, but I was sure she’d go
ballistic if I told her! Now I have to pay for it. Damn!
I don’t want to quit seeing her.
Suddenly he noticed Vicky standing in front of him.
“Well, what did you decide?”
“Vicky, I uh, I don’t want to break up with you!” he
stammered.
“Good! I don’t really want to break up either, but the
decision had to be yours. So you’re saying that you’ll
take a good switchin’?”
He nodded meekly.
“Okay, here’s how it’s going to be,” she began. “I’m
fixin’ to go out and cut three good switches from the
willow tree. You’re gonna have your pants off and you’re
gonna take it bending over. I’m gonna switch hard,
’cause you’ve got to learn your lesson. And I’m gonna be
the one who decides when your switchin’ ends. You’ve got
one last chance to back out, and if you do, there’s the
door.”
“No, I – I’ll stay…”
Vicky picked up a small knife. “While I’m out cuttin’
the switches, I want you to strip down to your
underpants.” A moment later he observed Vicky at the
willow tree, reaching up and examining the branches,
looking for suitable switches. He quickly shed his
clothes, keeping his underpants on as directed. After
Vicky had all three switches cut, she used the knife to
pare off the thinnest parts of the ends, and she got rid
of the shoots and leaves.
She came into the house and rinsed the switches at the
kitchen sink, and set them down. Next, she moved one of
the dinette chairs out into the middle of the living
room while her boyfriend watched with increasing
apprehension and dread.
“Come over here now and bend over the back of this
chair,” Vicky directed as she patted her hand on the
part he was to bend over. As if in a daze, he walked
over to where she was, where she guided him into the
desired position with her hand.
“I want you to stay bent over like that through the
whole switchin’. Now I went out and got three switches.
I’m gonna use two of ’em until they’re all used up. If
you let go or get up out of position I’m gonna add two
strokes with the third switch, forever’ time that you do
that.”
“I’m really sorry, Vicky!” he exclaimed.
“I know. You’re sorry you got caught. But you wouldn’t
‘a told me otherwise.”
He knew he could not dispute that. Vicky pulled down his
briefs and they dropped to his ankles.
“Now remember, this is gonna be very painful, and you’re
not to let go or get out of position. You just keep a
very tight hold there, ’cause if you let go, you’ll get
extra!”
Vicky picked up one of the switches and stood to her
boyfriend’s left. “Get ready, now,” she said, and,
aiming for the center of the bared bottom, drew her arm
back and brought the switch forward, causing it to hiss
through the air until it struck the bared target. The
tip of the switch curled around the right side of his
hip when it struck, and Vicky continued to follow-
through while it swiped across his bare ass.
“Ahhhhhhhhh!” he gasped, as the whitened weal began to
raise and turn a bright red. “Oh God, Vicky!” He kicked
his feet and twisted his hips from side to side.
“That was just a start,” Vicky announced. “There’s lots
more to come.
Hold on tight…”
The switch again hissed through the air and streaked
across both ass cheeks.
“Ahhh! OW! Oh Vicky,” he exclaimed, writhing.
She pressed her lips firmly together and inflicted
another switch stroke.
“OW! Damn you, Vicky!”
“Two extra strokes for swearing at me,” Vicky announced
with a giggle. “Now, I’m gonna go a little faster,” she
continued. “If you let go or stand up, you’re gonna get
still more extra!”
I know he’s gonna let go several times, Vicki thought to
herself. But I’ve gotta teach him some self-discipline
if this relationship thing is gonna work.
Vicky proceeded to apply the switch, picking up the
tempo, rather slowly at first, increasing to a brisk
pace after a few strokes. She made the switch sing each
time she whisked it toward its target. He exclaimed,
many times with incoherent sounds, every time the switch
hit. He also writhed and kicked in a brisk dancing
motion that Vicky had to admit was somewhat arousing.
When she had applied less than twenty strokes, he
abruptly stood up and put his hands over his buttocks.
“Ah’ ahhhh,” Vicky scolded, “That brings you up to four
extra! Get back in position now!”
“Oh, Vicky, it hurrrrrts!”
“If you delay, I’ll add still more. Get back there now!”
Nervously, he bent over the back of the chair again and
looked apprehensively at Vicky.
“Hold on tight now – we’ve still got a ways to go,” she
instructed. She resumed the brisk switching while he
writhed, danced, and begged for her to be easier on him.
After fourteen swipes he stood up again.
“You’re up to six extra now,” Vicky proclaimed. “Get
back over!”
He determinedly took his position again and Vicky again
energetically switched him. He reacted with frenzied
kicking of his legs and frantic wiggling. His shouts
filled the room. After about a half minute the switch
broke.
“The first switch is used up now. You can stand up for a
minute or so before I start with the second one,” Vicky
matter-of-factly announced.
“Ahhhh,” he exclaimed, relieved at the intermission and
not wanting to think about what was ahead. He looked
over at Vicky to see her kicking off her shoes; he
couldn’t help gazing at her attractive bare legs which
were well-framed by the skirt she was wearing. She
unbuttoned and removed her blouse, tossed it aside and
removed her bra.
“Okay now, we’re ready to continue,” she said. “Get back
over the chair.”
“Come on Vicky,” he pleaded, “It really hurts! No more,
okay?”
Vicky put her hands on her hips and looked at him
sternly. “If you really want to get dressed, you’ll have
to go and we’ll call it quits,” she said. “Otherwise, I
expect to see you bent over and ready to take the rest
of your switchin’ as soon as I have the switch in my
hand!”
She went to retrieve the second switch. He sighed deeply
and bent over the back of the chair again.
“I want you to see if you can take the rest of it
without gettin’ up,” she instructed. Then she resumed
the switching. As the switching progressed, she watched
with interest the emerging pattern of weals on his
buttocks – thick red weals, thin ones, purple
striations, short and long streaks at various angles,
many of them overlapping. Vicky made the switch
constantly sing on its painful mission of discipline;
her boyfriend, on the other hand, constantly lamented
her attentions, and reacted with uncontrolled, frenzied
twisting and writhing, kicking his legs in a spirited
fashion.
Despite her scolding, he failed to hold his position to
Vicky’s satisfaction three times during her use of the
second switch, incurring a total of one dozen extra
strokes.
“Okay now, the other switch is worn out,” the bare-
chested Vicky stated. “You can take a little break for a
couple a’ minutes. You have twelve more with a new
switch comin’ to you.” She retrieved the third switch,
which was the sturdiest one of the bunch.
“No, Vicky… No more!” her boyfriend exclaimed when he
saw her with the fresh switch in her hand.
“Well, if you would a’ taken your switchin’ properly you
wouldn’t be gettin’ these extra,” she explained.
Pointing to the back of the chair, she continued, “Over
you go, now. Let’s get this over with. And I want you to
take these properly – no gettin’ up or you’ll get extra.
Remember, there’s a lot more switches out on that willow
tree!”
“Vicky -”
“Get over there! NOW!” Her stern demeanor, complete with
the fresh willow switch in her hand, was in stark
contrast to the sensual appearance of her being bare-
chested, barelegged, and barefoot. With Vicky, the
introduction of this kind of perceptual conflict was
instinctual; other women would have had to deliberately
calculate it. For him, the conflict served to enhance
her mastery of the situation. He felt helpless as he
once again presented his bare bottom for more discipline
from Vicky’s switch.
“Now I’m gonna go slower with these, and I expect you to
be able to stay bent over,” she said. What she did not
say was that she was going to administer the switch very
forcefully; she also tried to disregard the increased
wetness in her crotch. “Here comes ONE!”
Vicky’s hips briskly rotated as she swung the switch
with renewed intensity.
“Aaaaaaaah!” he shouted, and repeatedly kicked his legs
several times.
He twisted and writhed for several seconds.
“Here’s TWO!”
With her eye on the target and her lips pressed firmly
together, she seemed to make the switch whisper the word
“whipppp!” just before it struck his buttocks.
“Owwww! Vicky, PLEASE!” More kicking and twisting.
“THREE!”
The scenario continued for the remainder of the dozen
strokes, with Vicky waiting for him to quiet down before
swinging the switch again. She observed a fresh
striation each time she swiped the switch across the
buttocks of her boyfriend.
He, of course, felt a lightning-bolt of white-hot pain
with each swipe – and felt it especially keenly on the
sides of his buttocks where Vicky’s switch curled over
and bit punishingly into the tender skin there. She
delivered the last few swipes especially intensely and
observed his correspondingly increased reaction.
“Okay, we’re all done,” she announced and put the switch
down. “I’ll be right back…”
Vicky returned with a damp washcloth and a jar of
lotion, and seated herself on the dinette chair which
had been recently used as a prop for the punishment.
“Come around here now,” she directed, taking hold of his
hand. “Here – face down across my lap and I’ll put some
of this cream on to make it feel better.”
He readily complied, noticing the irony of his position
across Vicky’s lap – the traditional position for being
spanked. Her gentle touch and reassuring manner soon
relaxed him, although he flinched and exclaimed a few
times when she first touched his switch-ravaged bottom.
She led him to the bedroom and had him lie face-down for
a nap.
About an hour later he awoke to see Vicky lying beside
him, totally naked, with a sensual smile and her hands
behind her head.