A switching to remember

When I was in the third grade in the 1990s, my best friend was Cory, who lived about four blocks away from our house. One day, I went around to his place to play as my mom had to go out shopping with a girl friend of hers.

We dug Cory’s softball glove and ball out of his cupboard and went outside to play catch. Cory’s mom wasn’t too keen on this idea and we were under strict instructions to go over to the other side of the road, which had no houses, so we didn’t endanger anyone’s glass.

From our point of the view, the trouble was that that side also had plenty of trees, and we kept hitting the ball against them. Eventually, we decided it was no fun and moved back over to Cory’s front lawn.

Of course, the inevitable eventually happened. Cory hurled the ball at me at full pelt, I totally missed and it hit the window. Miraculously, the ball didn’t sail through the glass but it did leave a huge crack, top to bottom. Cory’s mom heard the impact, inspected the damage, then came out of the house like an avenging angel.

“You two boys get inside right now! You are in big trouble!” We scooted in and she landed a firm spank each on the seat of our pants as she followed behind. “Go and sit in the lounge,” she told us.

We sat on the sofa uneasily as we heard Cory’s mom make a call from the hallway phone to my mother’s cell. She gave a brief but succinct account of what had happened. “Well, mine will be getting a sore bottom as soon as I get off the phone,” I heard her say. “You’re sure? It’ll hurt very much. Fine, fine. OK, goodbye!”

Cory’s mom came into the lounge with a stern expression on her face. She said: “You boys are in big trouble!” Then she turned to me. “Timothy, I just got through talking to your mom and she has agreed that I should whip you too.” I felt my mouth go dry as a bone.

“Take off your shoes, both of you!” We complied, then: “Right boys – take off your pants and briefs.” I hesitated, shy of a woman who was not my mother seeing me. “Right now, Timothy! You’ve got nothing a mom hasn’t seen a thousand times before.” Well, that may have been true, but not mine, right? Anyway, I eventually did as I was told. When I got my briefs down I put my hands in front of my penis, but then we were told: “Hands on your heads – now!” We obeyed. “Right – wait right there.”

Cory’s mom went into the kitchen and we stood there awkwardly, trying not to stare at each other’s modest little wieners. I heard something rattling as it was presumably taken down a shelf or extracted from a drawer. When she returned to the lounge, Cory’s mom was carrying a kitchen chair – and a switch. Cory’s face drained of all colour.

His mom placed the chair in the middle of the room. “All right, young man,” she said to her son, “you know what to do.” Cory evidently did. He stepped forward and knelt up on the chair, sticking his small pale bottom out as he did so. His mom pointed at him with the switch and said to me: “See that? That’s what I need you to do after I’ve seen to Cory’s behind. Watch and learn!”

Then she took a step or two closer to the chair and without hesitation she brought the switch down decisively in the centre of Cory’s bare bottom. He yelped like a whipped puppy and an angry red line formed immediately across his cheeks. Then his mom really got to work. She gave Cory lick after lick of that thin wicked switch. He cried like a baby as the punishment was administered and when his mom finally stopped, his butt looked like it had been in a war. I was so scared at the prospect of going next that I almost peed on the floor.

I was in a dream-like state as Cory’s mom took my hand gently but firmly and led me to the execution chair. “Kneel up! That’s right. Bottom out, Timothy…further…all right. Keep those hands in front of you, if you know what’s good for you.”

If that part had been like a dream, what followed was my worst nightmare. Even at the first lick, I couldn’t believe how much that switch stung my behind. And the cuts that followed turned my backside into a bonfire. At one point I did try to reach around but Cory’s mom was presumably used to this – she grabbed my hand and put it halfway up my back as she completed the correction. All the time, I was somehow simultaneously crying and yelling my head off.

Finally, it was all over. “You may put your clothes back on, boys. Go and play upstairs quietly and if I hear a peep out of either of you, we can do this all again, you know!”

I eventually went home. Mom obviously knew I had been punished and the moment she got in, she took my pants down to inspect my bottom. I had almost expected a second spanking but she said nothing and instead sent me to bed with no supper.

I only found out much later in life that she had been pretty appalled at the state of my buttocks. She had expected – and approved of – a sound spanking but the whipping Cory and I got was pretty over the top for a simple accident. We didn’t sit comfortably for about a week.

Mom never invited Cory’s mother to discipline me again, although that was far from the last time we got into trouble together.

Contributor: Tim

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