An Old Fashioned Southern Whipping

You know, people talk about banned implements all the time. Implements that they would never allow used on them or even implements that some say they would never use. For whatever reason. Bad experiences in the past or just an overwhelming fear. I once had that mindset, particularly about a leather strap and also a cane. The strap from the memory of it having been used on me as a child and the cane from everyone else's accounts of it.

I learned though, that in the hands of the right person no implement should be off limits. I had agreed to a cane with someone I trusted immensely, allowing that choice on his end, knowing he did not desire to hurt me. But that was not to be and I would be lying to say that I did not experience some form of relief in that. A strap had been discussed as well, if only to help me overcome my fear of it. And in knowing my fear, he would make damn sure not to make it worse.

A switch, however, was not one of those 'true' implements in my book. At least I'd never given it any consideration, thinking there would never come a time when I would actually be faced with a switching. Why would I? Amid Cracker Barrel paddles, wooden spoons and a variety of toys that can be used, why would anyone ever think to bother cutting a switch and using it? Other things work just as nicely. Besides, how boring is

that

?? A switch?

Well....let me tell YOU....

"A switch, however, was not one of those 'true' implements in my book." An interesting thought, to be sure, and a thought which would lead to interesting enlightenments for Sarah. One might note that more than a multitude would stand to refute the notion that a switch is not a true implement. Having been raised on this instrument I would be in the front row and the first to testify. Switches have a long and storied history in the better management of the errant, and no well rounded student of corporal correction would be complete without an acquaintance with their use.

Sound is a reason, obviously. Or lack thereof, as the case may be. I hadn't really done anything to deserve something as horrible as the switch, although before experiencing it I did have the thought,

How bad can it be? It's just a stick!

Just a stick.

Wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong

.

It is

just a stick

like a Redwood is

just a tree

.

Let me regress back and let you know what convinced me otherwise.

We had spent much of the afternoon and part of the evening in conversation about the mundane things of life. A spanking had not actually been decided upon but we had CB just in case. A gift, actually, that he himself had given me for Christmas, signed at the very tip of the handle. It was a virgin CB, as I thought it most appropriate that no one use it on me at least til he had had a chance to do so.

He mentioned getting to that point, a spanking, and asked if there was anything I needed to be spanked for (like I will admit to

that

!). So of course I said no and laughed. He knew I had brought CB but was concerned about sound resonating up and down the hallway of the hotel. Last thing either of us wanted was someone calling the cops about some sinister business going on in Room 208. So jokingly, he mentioned going outside and getting a switch.

Actually, it was a serious suggestion. There were few viable options in our situation, and the concern with a potential overreaction to the noise was real. There are very few instruments which combine the key characteristics of both tactile effectiveness and virtual silence (silence, at least, on the part of the instrument) in their use. The switch leads all the rest in this consideration. Another outstanding characteristics of the switch is that they are readily available just about any place that trees or bushes grow.

"Ummm, not sure about that...I've heard baaaad things about the switch. As a matter of fact, it is the one thing that suzy says she would never allowed be used on her."

"You ever been switched?" He asked and I admitted I hadn't. I then, out of nervousness, relayed a scene I'd seen while on vacation one year about a boy of about 12 misbehaving and his mother picking a switch off of a tree right before they headed off to the public restroom. And yes, this was in the South.

Ah, the South! The South is to switching for punishment what Sarah's native Kentucky is to KFC chicken. The two are inseparable. There is probably no other instrument of punishment so closely associated with a particular region in the U.S. as is the switch with the South. From the 19th century annals of Tom Sawyer on the Mississippi River to Sarah's modern day but unfortunate boy headed for a fateful meeting in the public restroom the switch has reigned as the worst bane of misbehaving children in Dixieland. On a different note I will give Sarah this. She states that at this point she was already nervous. It was not apparent to me. She carried on the conversation as if the thought of the switch was no more than a trifling issue.

"Well, this is what we can do," he said. "We could kinda do a spanking in role play since you haven't been smoking. Or, we can do it as a 'taste of what's to come' should you start smoking again."

Role play. Well, even in role play there must be a 'reason'. Even if it's a silly one.

"Okay," I agreed, figuring it couldn't really be

that

bad, right?

He stood up to go outside and find one and took the room key with him in case I 'decided to lock him out'. But he soon returned and announced we were gonna go on a shopping trip to Lowe's to get a dowel rod being how he couldn't find a proper switch.

"He stood up to go outside and find one and took the room key with him in case I 'decided to lock him out'." Of course! This ol' boy wouldn't make such a fundamental mistake as crossing to the wrong side of locked door with a soon to be disciplined young lady on the other side. What happened on the trip outside was that while I found a number of trees lining the parking lot, they were singularly unsuitable for good switches. The limbs were short and crooked, and much too stiff. A good switch needs to be as straight as possible, a bit firm, but with some flexibility to it. Because we were in the middle of a rather developed area, no other likely trees were in immediate site. I knew that a Lowe's hardware store was less than a five minute drive away, and that it would have an abundant supply of wooden dowel rods. While not in the same league as a good switch, dowel rods are very serviceable instruments for delivering a good whipping.

"Isn't a dowel rod like a cane?" I asked.

"Yes, a small one.

We left the room together, laughing and joking in the hall and through the lobby where a few people were present. As we walked outside I saw a variety of small trees.

"What about that tree? I asked, pointing to the one to our left. We approached it and looked at some of the branches, him muttering something about why the limbs were not right. So I walked over to another tree. "What about this one?" It looked perfect to me. Men! How come they couldn't seem to find anything? I grabbed a branch. "This one looks fine. What's wrong with this one?" Stupid me, I had no clue as to how to pick a switch.

Sarah is right!

Of

course I am!

I

had entirely missed the tree which was immediately outside the door, to the left. While it was still a young tree, it has some beautiful long, slender branches that would make fine switches. I took the branch that Sarah has pointed out, and after a brief examination snapped it off. It would make a good switch!

He inspected it then snapped it off the tree. Then he took off his jacket and wrapped it up in it so as not to attract the curious eyes of the people in the lobby.

They eyed us suspiciously anyway as we walked back through and we laughed about it in the elevator.

Once back in the room he asked if I had a pocket knife so that he could make what's called a 'keen switch'. I didn't but he went on to explain that a keen switch is one that is pretty much skinned and all of the small bumps taken off of it. This branch just had a few buds on it so he took to stripping it with his fingers while telling me about smoking and what it can do to your health. He noticed my leg bouncing as he spoke.

A good switch takes a little preparation. The intent with a switch is to cause an intense sting without also causing undue damage or injury to the skin. To aid in achieving this a switch should be trimmed as smooth as possible. Just as my own mother had done, I carefully trimmed all the twigs, knots, and rough spots from the thin limb until it was quite smooth. While I was doing this I was talking to Sarah, who was watching the whole process intently! And by this point, some initial anxiety was beginning to show through her previously calm exterior!

"Nervous?" He asked with a grin. I smiled and shook my head no, which was a lie but I was more nervous about baring my bottom, I think. When he was finished he held it up for inspection and said, "Ok, I think we're ready. Now, I like my spankings to be domestic in nature."

I stood, not catching on to what he meant.

"I like them to be domestic," he repeated. "So take off your shoes."

I did.(Like the good compliant little angel that I am.)

"Socks too, and put them over there," he pointed toward the door. As I did this he moved some things around and put pillows up against the underside of the door to block what any sound may be made, whether it be crying or whatever although I am not one to usually cry. He then had me stand up against the end of the bed, facing away from it while he fashioned pillows on the end of the bed, for me to bend over, I figured. My preference being otk, really, but that wasn't very feasible given that noise was an issue. Just as well, I think only once (no twice) I have been spanked while bending over on my own and not otk.

"Domestic' was the right choice of atmosphere for this spanking, given the setting, the instrument, the cause for the punishment, and the fact that I actually know Sarah and really do care about her occasional smoking habit. Not a lot could be done to give it a good domestic feel, but a little creativity can go a long way. Being barefoot, as one often is at home, was a good start. The fact that I was going to use the bed, much as it would be used at home for a good spanking was another. Concerning position, knowing what was in store for Sarah, I knew that it would be necessary to pay attention to some important details to both provide for a proper spanking and to ensure that she would not be disruptive during her punishment. I wished to apply the switch to the middle and lower part of her bottom, the only proper place for spankings in my opinion, so it was necessary for her to bend over, of course, to present this part of the anatomy. OTK would not do in this case, however, since the length of the switch prevented any effective use from that position. She needed to be in a stable position which did not allow for much movement, because I knew from personal experience that there would be a compelling desire to move as much as possible! The bed answered all of the needs.

He stood in front of me and looked me right in the eyes. "I will tell you what I tell everyone. My goal is

not

to make you cry. But crying is okay if you feel you must. However..." he glanced toward the door then back. "...loud cries are not acceptable. I am not sure how likely you are to do such...."

I shook my head to indicate that I wasn't likely to do such.

"...but there will be no loud crying."

I nodded my head nervously, trying not to look at that stick in his hand.

"The spanking is not done until I am done. Is that understood?"

Again, I nodded my head a bit glad that he wasn't demanding vocal answers in proper form.

"Also, when it is finished, you do not rise until I say so. Now, do you have any questions?"

I thought for but a second. What kind of question would I ask?? We had already discussed a safeword while he was peeling the switch.

Actually, I don't recall that we had agreed on a safeword! We had discussed one, but to my memory there was no definite statement to the effect that a certain word would be it. That being said, had Sarah called out a safeword I'm sure I would have recognized it as such, and would have, of course, respected it.

"Okay, well, no questions so I want you to turn and face the bed."

I did.

â"Drop your pants."

I hesitated, then turned and looked at him. "How far? All the way?"

"Yes. At least past your thighs."

I sighed and started to unbutton, then turned again, thinking that there was actually a possibility he had planned to spank me over my panties and I had none on. I told him so.

"That's okay," he said and slowly I unfastened my cargo pants completely, then pushed them down slightly, hoping they'd stay up part way but no such luck in that! They fell all the way to the floor and I cursed silently. He then ordered me over the pillow and I bent, placing my arms above my head as instructed.

"Clasp your hands," he said and I folded them together. He repeated himself and I turned to look at him, entwining my fingers the way he was demonstrating for me, ironically as if in prayer. He then told me that if the hands came apart then another round of spanks would start, which I took to mean that the spanking started over.

How bad can it be?

I thought to myself, knowing that I am usually very good at being still if I must. He told me to adjust my legs how I wanted them but once I had them adjusted that I was not to move them either.

Okay, so that means I can't kick him.

On the one hand, some of the instructions I gave to Sarah are just part of my modus operandi for spanking. I almost always have the recipient either clasp her hands tightly with specific instructions to keep them that way or to hold the far end of a desk/table, etc. and to not let go. I also give the instruction to keep the feet ON the floor in the spot they start in. If you have them bending over something (the bed, in Sarah's case) these two simple rules pretty much immobilize the offender in place, in the proper position. In Sarah's case, I put a little more emphasis because I knew it would be both a new and an intense experience for her, and she would need all the help she could get.

So there I was, barefoot, displayed and waiting for something I'd never experienced. I was nervous yet not so in a strange way.

"Are you ready?" he asked and I kinda laughed and nodded my head. It never ceases to amaze me these Tops asking that question. Next I felt his hand put slight pressure on the small of my back, the switch touched to the fullest part of my bottom and it began.

I rested my hand on her back as another measure of helping her to stay in place. I was not going to try and hold her that way, of course, but often just feeling that "holding" presence can make the difference in someone trying to raise up rather than staying in position.

Holy Shit!

Immediately my head whipped up, unbelieving at the intensity of the line of fire being left across my bottom. It was literally seconds before I was squeezing my hands together to keep from reaching back. Rapidly he spanked, each strike feeling as if it was peeling my skin.

The first few strokes were not that hard! I started popping the switch across the middle and lower part of her bottom and while it was still faster than a typical paddle or hand spanking, it was much slower than it was going to be. I wanted her to get an initial impression of the effect before it was really stepped up to a good switching, too.

My thoughts

How much longer? It can't be too much longer now.

Owww

...owww...I can feel that thing hitting the same areas. This is unbelieveable. Hands together. Focus. Focus. Hands together. Squeeze them tight and you won't let go. Gawwwwd

....I can stop it if I want. I can stop it. I can stop this if I really have to. Hang on. It can't be much longer. He has got to stop soon. Focus. Focus on the pain. You've done it before. Focus directly on each stroke so that your mind is occupied doing something.

After a few strokes I increased the speed of the switching and begin to lay them on pretty rapidly. It didn't take Sarah long to react! She began to move just a little, and I heard her breathing begin to change. Her hands were clenched so tightly that I thought that we might need a crowbar to get them apart! And soon, she began to vocalize just a little, with a few "Oh's!!" They were not loud, but were certainly audible.

But my mind, although focusing, or trying to, on the inferno on my ass would literally be whipped out of that distraction. It was a weird way of coping but one that I had done in the past. If I focused directly on the pain, my mind, in a strange way, was distracted away from it. But this time it wasn't working, because the pain itself yanked me away from that holding point that I was trying to keep grasp of.

I'm gonna have to stop this. If it goes on much longer, I am gonna have to stop it. You can, you know. You have the word to do it. Just hang in there. Stick it out. It will be over soon. It has to be. But WHEN?? God, when? I can't deal with much more of this.

I felt this sensation inside me. I remember thinking,

I could easily start crying were this to go on for any amount of time.

And I could have. I concentrated on keeping my hands clasped, still able to consciously tell myself that there were consequences I didn't want if I were to use them to obtain a brief respite. What would that accomplish, really? Stopping the spanking wouldn't stop the blaze.

And I really tried not to, actually pride myself on not making too much commotion during a spanking, but I found myself starting to become a bit vocal. I tried to bury my face in the bed's comforter and focus....focus....

Finally, I stopped. Sarah's bottom—the lower portion, as noted-- was pink with the slightly raised stripes typical of the use of a switch. Sarah remained still, just laying across the bed, as she had been instructed.

He stopped and I didn't move. He had told me not to until he gave the okay. And when he gave the okay, I got up and started to pull up my pants but he stopped me. "Lemme take a look." He said and bent me over slightly, checking out my bottom. In my mind,

Is it ooozing

blood?? Do I have skin left??

Knowing it wasn't and I did, but still.

This is a great observation on the power of the switch! Had this been a true punishment Sarah had—by her own admission—received something which had a profound affect on her. She wanted NO more of this medicine! And she's imagining the worst about the condition of her bottom! Yes, other than the one small area on the hip, her bottom displayed no more than a good pinkish coloration with some very minor welting. I checked again about 20 minutes or so later, and it was still the same.

We sat and talked some more. "Dontcha wanna rub?" He asked and I assured him that I wasn't really one to rub, and I wasn't. He told me that I could proudly state that I had gotten a 'whoopin', or a 'good old fashioned Southern whipping', as the South tended to favor switches for discipline.

Yes! I noted that as a budding writer in our special field, she now could relate on a much more personal basis to the experiences of millions of Southern children, and perhaps some fair Southern belles, over the generations.

Hmph

! I could relate very well through imagination thank you very much!

Once more we checked to make sure my stripes were okay. I was a bit surprised to see that they resembled some of the striped bottoms I'd seen in some caning pics. Battle wounds! I was proud of them as well.