It was a warm spring day and as is the case with so many people working in the yard was on the agenda. It really was the usual, planting some flowers, putting down mulch until my wife decided as we were trimming a few branches off the trees to change that.
She walked over handing me a group of branches. It was not the first of last of the day. She held my gaze, stepped closer and quietly said “ go to the garage and make these into switches. Then wait there and get ready for your beating.”
This was a “just because” session but i hurried, trimmed up the switches that ranged from thin and whippy to thick and terrifying. I could all but feel the welts on my butt starting to form even before she arrived .
She inspected the switches, hit the button to close the door. And then led me to the inside wall, unbuckled my belt, my jeans and lowered my boxers before putting me into position hands against the wall and partially bent over.
From the first lick with a thin whippy branch angry red welts began to raise. Working in no particular pattern the switches bit and stung. Each time they go thicker the beating got more intense.
Eventually my entire bottom and upper thighs were a criss crossed and overlapping pattern of marks from bright to dark red with only small slivers of white standing out in contrast.
Standing me up, unceremoniously redressing me and with a good hard smack of her hand over my jean all she said was “back to work” before taking the branches outside with her and adding them to the kindling pile by the fire pit.
My impromptu spring cleaning switching was over and we were back to work outside just like before, just like nothing happened except now each time i bent over, took too long of a stride or paused for a moment there was a reminder of exactly how marked by butt was from the very effective use of a few minutes with the door closed.