“I am going to give you 15 strokes with this switch.” I whipped the switch through the air, and it whistled highly as it cut the space between me and Sophia’s lovely, upturned ass. It was a willow branch, clipped from the tree in the back yard only minutes ago. “You will count the strokes aloud one by one.” I brushed Sophia’s backside with the switch. “If you stand up at any point during the switching, the stroke will not count.” I smiled and showed my teeth. “That means you’ll get an extra stroke. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sophia’s voice was miserable, and she choked back a sob.
“Take a breath, my pet.” With those words, I pulled the switch high in the air and whipped it down across her lovely brown bottom.
“Oh, my god!” Sophia cried out at the sudden pain lancing across her bottom. A straight red line stretched across both butt cheeks.
“Count them.” My voice was low. The anger I’d felt earlier had faded, and now I concentrated on Sophia’s lesson.
“One, m-m-ma’am,” Sophia stuttered.
I waited on the next stroke for about 30 seconds, touching her ass lightly with the tip of the switch. I’d learned over the years never to rush a spanking – or a switching. It takes time for the pain of the first strike to fade, and I wanted Sophia to feel the red lance of pain for each stroke I gave her.
I smacked the stick down again, just below the first stroke. Sophia caught her breath in mid-sob.
This strike was lower still, almost at the line where her ass meets her legs.
Sophia bawled miserably. “Th-th-hree, ma’am.”
I smiled and tapped her bottom with the tip of the switch: This would be a lesson that Sophia remembered.