“Michael Matthew, what are you doing?”
“Oh, good afternoon, Mrs. Johnson.” Michael hadn’t seen her hanging laundry through the row of fruit trees that grew on the border of their properties.
“What do you have there? Pruning shears? Are you here to cut a switch? Michael blushed and nodded.
“What did you do?”
“Um, I was smoking at school.”
“Smoking? What is it with smoking with you kids? Jessica got detention for smoking last week.” Michael knew that. The reason he’d tried smoking was to seem cool to her. “Give me those shears. I’ll cut two switches your mama can tear your behind up with just like I did to Jessica.” She pointed at two stumps on a branch, “She tried coming in with two sickly sticks but I wasn’t having it. I marched her right back out here and cut two switches that I was sure would leave an impression on her. And, when I was done her backside was as red as a cooked crawdad.” She reached high to grasp a suitable branch and her skirt rode up showing pale thigh where the sun didn’t usually reach. His eyes went wide but afraid of getting in more trouble he forced his gaze up over her shoulder. There he focused on two white brassieres pinned to the clothesline swaying in the breeze the larger of the two he knew belonged to the lady in front of him and the smaller to her pretty daughter. Further down the line were a small pair of bikini panties, white with a pink bow and lace fringing the waistband and leg holes, that had no doubt encapsulated the lovely behind he had so long admired and, he knew, suffered the same chastisements his did. Despite his dire predicament he felt a stirring in his groin and prayed Mrs. Johnson wouldn’t notice. She didn’t help his case when she retrieved the first switch she had cut from the ground and her half-buttoned blouse opened to give him a glimpse of a bra matching the one on the line supporting her large, pale bosom. She stood and thrust the switches at him with her right hand.
“These should put an end to your smoking habit.” She handed him back the pruning shears. “Make sure you clean them up well. Jess left a little bud on one of hers and it nearly drew blood.” Michael nodded, he had enough experience with the switch to know the importance of skinning it completely. He nodded.
“Yes ma’am.” He turned to go.
“Mike.” Her tone was softer. She walked through the trees to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Your mama is gonna whip you ‘cause she loves you.” He could smell her shampoo and realized it was the same one Jess used. “It isn’t easy for us, two single moms having to be both mother and father to you two. If our husbands, your dads, hadn’t died in the war we could say ‘wait till Dad gets home’ and he’d give you a spankin or a lickin with his belt and we’d get to be the nice one comforting you when it was over. We have to do both. I know your Mama and I know how much she loves you, just as much as I love my Jess. But we love you enough to try and make you do what’s right. I didn’t switch Jess’s behind because I was mad at her - I just don’t want to see her develop a habit that can lead to a terrible death. I know your Mama is the same way. As bad as you feel now waitin for your whuppin - I bet she feels just as bad, or worse. Don’t do this to her again.” Then she leaned down and gave him a tight hug, her large breasts were mashed against his chest and his face was planted in her flower-scented hair. When she broke the embrace she took him by both shoulders and looked unblinking into his eyes as if trying to amplify her message through her pale blue eyes.
Then she spun him around toward his own house and gave him a solid swat on his behind. “Take it like a man Michael Matthew.”
He walked slowly to the house trying to process the past few minutes. What had started out as a simple, if severe switchin, had taken on a whole new dimension. He felt terrible guilt for putting his mama in this position. He’d never thought about it from her side. It had never occurred to him that punishing him bothered her. He sat on his back steps to peel the two, substantial switches, each thicker than branches he’d have selected. He sighed and trimmed and peeled them. He saw a blind raise in what he knew was Jess’s room and he saw her face in the corner and she gave him a small wave. He blushed to know that she knew he was getting a switching but he figured they were even since he knew she caught it last week. He cleaned up the greenery and walked inside. His Mom wasn’t in the kitchen. He called to her. “I”m here mom.” and, more softly “I’m ready.”
“Ok, hun. Go wait in the den. I’ll be right in.”
He laid the switches on the writing table where his Mom paid the bills, balanced the checkbook, and took care of the other administrative matters of the house. Without being told he took the chair and turned it around. His mother strode in a minute later. She picked up a switch and held it up to examine it. She caught his eye and raised an eyebrow apparently noticing how substantial it was. He looked at the floor.
“Mrs. Johnson picked them for me. She was out hanging laundry when I went to the trees.” His mom smiled and chuckled.
“Sarah always thought I was too easy on you. Maybe she was right. Smoking. After all the talks we’ve had - and the warnings. I always told you that smoking is the most ruinous thing you can do for your health and if I found out you were doing it you would get a most severe punishment. I intend to live up to my word.” She nodded. “You know what to do.”
After his talk with Mrs. Johnson, he realized her speech was half a scolding for him and half a pep talk for herself. He approached the chair, took a breath, and unbuckled his belt. Then, he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down below his knees. He looked to his left at his mother, already holding one of the switches.
“Please?” She shook her head.
“No. Underpants down too.” He turned red and pushed the briefs down with his jeans. Then he bent over and held onto the sides of the chair. He felt her line up the switch, measuring it against his bottom. Then he heard the switch as it cut through the air and into his behind. The first lick landed smack in the center of his backside. He knew from painful experience all subsequent blows would fall below this line. As if reading his mind she tapped the switch just beneath the first rail of pain and let fly, she had telegraphed her blow perfectly the second line had only millimeters between it and its predecessor. The process continued down his bottom, past the tops of his thighs, and down to just above where the legs of shorts would cover his legs. His thighs were even more sensitive than his bottom and these made him want to squeal but, he remembered Mrs. Johnson’s admonition to “Take it like a man.” Somehow, he wanted to take it well for her. Finally, the first switch had given all it had and his Mom put it on the desk. She ran a cool, soft hand over his bottom flicking away pieces of the branch. “ I must say you are taking this very stoically.” He turned to face her, tears welling in his eyes. He shrugged.
“I just know I deserve it and I’m sorry I let you down.” Her look softened for just a second but then she nodded. “I’m glad you realize that.” She looked down as she fingered the second, pristine switch. “But, I have to do my duty. I have to finish punishing you.” He took a deep breath, looked down at the seat of the chair, and lifted his butt.
“I’m ready Mom.” Whatever sympathy she felt for him was put aside and she continued giving him the worst switching of his life. She used the new switch to lay stripes diagonally across the marks left in the first round creating a griddle effect on the lower half of his seat. She finished him off with five slow, deliberate strokes across the tops of his thighs. Even his desire to telepathically impress Mrs. Johnson couldn’t keep him from yelling out.
“Arrr!” Then her hand was on his back. She rubbed it for just a second.
“Ok Mike, go stand in the naughty corner.”
“Mom please, I’m 18!”
“I want you to think about it, think about what you did, and let that sore bottom transmit a message to your brain.”
“I get that. But, can you not call it the “‘naughty’ corner?” She chuckled and pointed with the switch.
“Ok Mike, go stand in the corner.”
“Thank you,” he replied formally and shuffled off to put his nose in the corner, with his pants and briefs still around his ankles, as he had after every punishment he could remember. And, like every other punishment, his mother delivered the coup ‘de grace with a solid spank to each sore cheek.