Deb's Dilemma
By Barb

"What? I have to choose which one I want you to spank me with?" Deb gasped with horror, her voice going high with fear. She was in big trouble, big, BIG trouble. The tears that had swam in her eyes most of the day spilled down her cheeks, again. This was not the first time her husband had used a punishment spanking to try and motivate her to change her irresponsible behavior. He had spanked her lots of times. Still, this one was going to be the most severe. But, in all honesty this had to have been the stupidest thing she had done so far.

The awful sequence of events that had lead up to his dropping that bombshell had started at about 10:00 this morning. He had walked into the kitchen holding an opened letter. Debbie knew instantly that he was very angry. Angry? Hell, he was livid. He didn't say anything at first. He just held the letter out to her and folded his arms to wait for an explanation.

Deb reached out with her hand trembling and took the letter. What could it be? What had him so upset? She hated to look, knowing that whatever it was; it boded no good for her.

The letter bore an official seal from the county clerk's office in Langston. Her driver's license was being suspended in ten days because of non-payment of a traffic ticket and to top that off, a warrant was going to be issued for her arrest. Oh my god, she thought, how could I have neglected to take care of that ticket?

She had gotten that ticket almost three months ago. She had been in trouble just the night before and wasn't sitting too comfortably. She desperately did not want to anger him again so soon. She decided it was worth the possibility of a little extra punishment to put off telling him for a few days. But the days slipped into weeks, as she purposely put it out of her mind so that he would not become suspicious. She never heard anything from the police department even when she forgot to pay the fine. She managed to convince herself that maybe it had been lost or that it just wasn't a big deal since there were so many other things more important than a piddling little traffic ticket.

Damn! She thought, how could I have been such a fool. I know things like that don't just go away. She and her husband had clashed more than once over her tendency to ignore minor problems until they became a crisis that could no longer be ignored. He called it "being in denial." The first spanking he had given her had been over putting something off…and putting it off until…bamm!, it had become a crisis and could not be put off any longer.

That first spanking had been over something silly, really. (Of course he didn't think so.) She had rented a VCR tape and had forgotten to take it back. The video store had called and reminded her that it was over due. They had been real nice, no big deal. The next time she had been out she had dropped the tape in the inbox, planning to settle up the bill the next time she rented a tape. She had meant to go by and take care of it, she really had. She had been shocked when she got a letter from a collection agency. The bill was now three times more than it would have been if she had taken care of it promptly.

All her frantic explanations had not done a damn bit of good. He had turned her over his knee, pulled her pants and panties down and spanked her soundly. He had brought his hand down again and again with hard painful whacks. Soon she was crying...and begging…and promising him anything if he would just stop. He didn't stop, though, he spanked her until her bottom was bright red and so hot she thought it would surely catch on fire.

That was the first time he had spanked her…but certainly not the last. Her highly developed procrastination skills drove him crazy. She had been trying to do better, really she had. This ticket thing had just kind of slipped up on her.

She looked up at him, her eyes huge with fear. What could she say…there was no way she could explain this one away.

"Well?" He said. "I want to know where in the hell your mind was. How could you just let something like this go? Didn't you know what would happen if you neglected to pay your traffic fine? You had better start talking and right fast, missy." He paused and looked sternly at her.

"I…uh…well…I just…" Debbie sputtered and stammered trying to come up with anything, any reason that would appease him and lessen his anger. "I'm sorry," she said. "I….."

"I meant to take care of it, really!" He mockingly finished the sentence for her. "That excuse just isn't going to cut it and you know it. You have managed to dig a deep hole for yourself this time. When are you going to learn that problems you run away from only compound themselves? How many times do I have to punish you for the same thing before it begins to sink in? I want to know! How many more times?" The anger in his voice was unmistakable.

"I don't know," she wailed. "No more times. I'm sorry, I won't do it again. I promise!"

"Yeah," he said, "I've heard that before and here we are again. I am going to have to do some thinking on just what it will take to make a serious impression on you. What you have done this time is reprehensible. My god, Deb…they are going to issue a warrant for your arrest…for a speeding ticket!" His voice thundered in the quiet of the room practically bouncing off the walls. Debbie was almost quaking with fear. He rarely shouted at her.

He raked his hand through his hair; but what he really wanted to do was pull it out. He was so frustrated with her. He looked down at her. She was really frightened. Good, he thought, she damn well better be. He struggled to get a hold of his temper. Some corner time for her is what they both needed right now.

"Deb," he said, "get yourself to your corner, now." His voice still radiated anger but he wasn't shouting anymore. Debbie turned and fled to their bedroom. She knew exactly where he wanted her. He followed her in a little more slowly.

"Drop your pants…panties, too. I want your butt on display as you think about what is going to happen. The spanking you will be getting in a few minutes is for the speeding ticket." He paused. "How fast were you going?"

"Fifty in a thirty-five," she said, just barely speaking above a whisper.

"That's fifteen miles over the speed limit. How much was your ticket for?"

"Seventy five dollars."

"Alright," he said, "that is one spank with the hairbrush for every dollar. We have already agreed on that." That agreement had been made after she had gotten a ticket that had alerted him to what her driving record looked like. "We," she thought. There was no "we" in that decision. He had decided and had calmly informed her of the consequences as he turned her over his knee to blister her backside.

"And…" he said, continuing, "you'll get twenty more on the thighs with my belt for not telling me about it. Then tonight, after super, we will discuss exactly what your punishment is going to be for not taking care of it and ending up in such a god-awful mess." He turned on his heel and left the room.

Debbie stood there, her face pressed to the wall, tears running down her cheeks. She had done it this time and he was right. How many more times was she going to put off taking care of something until it became a major crisis. She deserved whatever he decided to mete out.

She leaned back far enough to wipe her nose with the back of her hand. That wasn't even the spanking she was facing first she thought miserably. Initially she had to get through the spanking for getting the ticket in the first place and then she had to get through the whipping for not telling him. She leaned her forehead against the cool wall and waited….and waited….and waited. She was beginning to feel desperate to get on with this so that she could have it behind her, literally. Besides, she needed to go to the bathroom.

What was he doing? Why was this taking so long? She strained her ears to try and pick out any noise that would give her a clue as to his where-abouts. Nothing…the house was totally quiet. He had a workshop out back; maybe he had gone there. She was sure she hadn't heard the car leave, so he had to be around somewhere. She continued to wait, knowing that she dare not get caught out of the corner without permission.

Finally, she heard the backdoor open. Please come in here, please come in here, she prayed silently. The urge to pee was getting a lot stronger.

"Look at me," he said. "Have you been contemplating your impending spanking? And are you ready?"

She turned to face him. "Please Sir," she said, "may I go to the bathroom first." She felt a little extra politeness and respect might be in order.

His face twitched as he fought down a smile. "You have two minutes," he said. "You might as well take your pants and panties clear off, you won't be needing them for a while."

She pushed them on down and stepped out of them. Her face flushed with acute embarrassment. The lower half of her body was totally naked as she walked toward the bathroom. She felt the humiliation of that keenly. He had seen her naked hundreds of times but it was different now. Now she was moments away from a sound spanking.

Flushing the stool and finishing up, she walked slowly back into the bedroom. He had pulled the straight-backed chair away from the wall and it was now sitting in the middle of the room. The antique hairbrush, which had once belonged to her grandmother, lay innocently in the middle of the seat. She wondered, as she did every time she saw it, if it had ever been used on her mother's backside or maybe even her grandmother's.

She paused a few feet away, her head hanging down. Tears were already threatening to spill out of her eyes. God, how she hated this.

He walked over to the chair, picked hairbrush and seated himself. Patting his thighs he called her over. She stretched across his lap and placed her hands on the floor in front of her. She knew she deserved this and she silently resolved not to try and cover her bottom when the pain began growing too intense. It never worked anyway, and only seemed to make him angrier.

She waited with bated breath for the first smack to fall. She thought she would surely scream if he didn't start soon. The wait over his knees with her bare butt the highest part of her body seemed as long as the wait in the corner. The tension was squeezing her heart, making it hard to breathe.

Please get started, please get started, she chanted over and over in her head willing him to start. She knew why he always made her wait. When that first smack finally fell, it would startle her almost as badly as when some one jumped out of the closet and shouted, "BOO."

Whack! Her whole body jerked, and she fought to keep from crying out. The brush fell again and again with stinging smacks that left a streak of fire in their wake.

When he used the hairbrush on her, he always spanked hard and fast. She had no time to catch her breath and no break between blows to try and compose herself before the next one fell. Only hot stinging blows that placed pain upon pain and made her feel that her bottom might catch fire at any moment.

Her steely resolve began to crumble as her cries mingled with every blow. "Ooowwww," she wailed, "it hurts, oooh it hurts. Stop, please stop!"

She writhed and squirmed; desperately trying to count so that she would be able to estimate how many more spanks would be falling. It had gone on for so long and hurt so badly. Surely she had taken seventy-five by this time.

"Stop!" She cried, "That's seventy-five, that's seventy-five!"

The brush fell five more times before he paused. "No," he said sternly, "it was not. That last one was number fifty. You have twenty-five more to go. Since you are so eager to count them, you can count these last ones out loud so that there will be no more mistakes. If you don't count it, it doesn't count toward the total. Are you ready?"

"Nooooo," she wailed, but the brush fell anyway. Whack! Whack! Whack!

"You better start counting or this is never going to be over," he warned as the hairbrush continued to fall with fast painful smacks.

"One, two, three…" she counted as fast as she could, but she couldn't keep up with the pace he was setting. Every time she wailed in response to the pain, a few more fell before she could collect herself enough to continue counting. This was horrible. She knew she was getting way more than she would have gotten if she had just kept her big mouth shut!

"Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-onnneee!" Her voice went high. "Ooowww!" Counting was becoming almost impossible, she couldn't keep track of where she was. "Nineteen…nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…twenty-one, twenty-twooooo!"

"Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five," he finished for her. Helping her off his lap, he sent her back to the corner. She stumbled gratefully toward the solid sanctuary of the wall. She twisted and stamped against the pain, wailing out her anguish. She refrained from putting her hands back to rub, though. She knew that might gain her a few more spanks.

He sat quietly watching her dance. He gave her a few minutes, before he said, "alright, that's enough of those shenanigans. Put your nose in the corner. We are not done you know. I'll give you fifteen minutes and then we will finish up."

Debbie tearfully obeyed, thankful for the respite. Her flaming bottom throbbed and pulsed with a heartbeat of it's own. This is it, she thought, I will never speed again, never. It is just not worth it. She took a quivering breath and tried to get control of herself. Only twenty more she told herself and these wouldn't be on her bottom, they would be on her thighs. Usually she hated thigh spankings, but right now that definitely seemed preferable to having anymore land on her incredibly sore bottom.

**********************

Her tears had stopped, and the heat had even begun to fade a little bit when he called her name. She turned slowly to face him, dreading this, but anxious to get it over with.

"Deb," he said, "come here and we will finish this." He stood up and unbuckled his belt. With a soft swish, he pulled it free of the belt loops and folded it in half. Crooking his finger he drew her forward as if she were on a string. She tried not to look at the belt that he held tightly in one hand. He pointed at the chair.

"Bend over the back and hold onto the seat," he commanded. He wanted the crease where her butt meets her thighs opened fully. He placed his hand in the small of her back and asked, "Do you want to count these, or should I?"

"No, I want you to do it," she quickly replied.

He couldn't help but smile at her quick response, tamping it down and straightening his features, he brought the belt down sharply on the back of her left thigh. A pink stripe instantly appeared. He brought the belt down again and a matching stripe appeared on the right thigh. He alternated back and forth, first one leg and then other. He spanked slowly this time, making her feel the intensity of each whack before the next one descended.

Debbie didn't even try to be stoic and cried out on the first whack of the belt. A particularly painful whack bit into her upper thighs, right where the crease met her lower cheeks. She bit her lip and moaned. She gripped the seat as tight as she could desperate not to stand up and not to put a hand back.

Another blow caught the same tender place, and then another and another. "Ohhh, stop…please," she begged, "not there again. It hurts!"

"It's suppose to hurt," he said, bringing it down in the same place again. "If it didn't hurt it wouldn't be much of a deterrent, now would it?"

"Nooooo'" she wailed, not sure if she was answering his question or begging him to stop.

"I want to know," he said bringing the belt down again. "What are you going to do the next time you get a ticket?"

"Ouuchhh, I'll tell you about it…I will…I promise," she sobbed.

"You'd better not get another ticket," he said sternly, punctuating that sentence with a whap that wrapped around her leg. The tip raised an instant welt on the side of her thigh. Deb shrieked and her hand instinctively flew back to protect that spot from another blow.

"I won't…I won't! Stop, please, no more."

"Debbie," he said, "where is your hand suppose to be?"

"Ohhh, noo" she wailed as she realized that her hand was now covering a part of her leg. "It's suppose to be on the chair. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to put it back."

"That is five more," he said unsympathetically. He decided to bring the belt down quicker now, knowing that she was reaching her limit and it was time to end this session. He had promised her twenty and twenty, she would receive, with an additional five for putting her hand back. He was determined that she would receive each one and that each one would hurt but he no longer felt the need to prolong the punishment.

He folded the belt in half again, and pushed down on her back bringing her bottom up a little higher. Rapid whacks fell back and forth along the tops of both thighs and the creases where butt met thighs. He concentrated on making sure that she remembered this spanking every time she sat down for the next few days. Debbie's long wailing OOOwww, ow, ow, ooowwww did not stop until the last blow had been delivered.

She collapsed weakly over the back of the chair sobbing her eyes out. He gave her a few minutes to cry and to collect herself, then he gently helped her to her feet. Instead of sending her to the corner again, as he often did, he pulled her into his arms.

The comfort and strength of his arms started fresh tears again. His gentleness with her, after the painful, but fully deserved, punishment session, made her heart swell with love for this man. He just held her, not saying anything while she cried out her sorrow. Even when her tears had slowed and her sobs had become only hick-up like catches of her breath, he continued to hold her.

Finally she leaned back, and looked fully into his face searching for forgiveness. "I'm sorry," she said. "Not telling you was really stupid. I will never do it again, I promise. Can you ever forgive me?"

He hugged her tightly. "Of course I can forgive you. I love you, you know that. If I didn't love you I wouldn't bother. You are worth it even if you have some serious behavioral issues that have to be addressed from time to time."

"But," he said his voice no longer angry but still full of firm resolve, "this is still not completely over. I have got to come up with something that will motivate you to stop putting off dealing with minor problems. You have got to learn to take an adult level of responsibility. I have a few ideas, but as I said this morning, we will discuss this after supper." He kissed her forehead and released her. "I have some things I need to work on out back. We will talk some more later."

Debbie sighed as she watched him walk out the back door. That didn't sound very good. Most of the time when he punished her, he punished immediately. She was not sure she wanted him to have time to plan. She hoped he did not get too creative.

**********************

As usual, after a spanking she was always feeling very motivated and had a strong desire to please him. She spent several hours doing housework and then decided to fix one of his favorite dinners. She knew it wouldn't have any baring on what ever he was planning, but that really wasn't why she was doing this, anyway (well, maybe just a little bit.) It was another way of saying she was sorry and that she would try to be good.

Supper was pleasant, even though Debbie was feeling a little strained. He showed no signs of anger and even seemed a little excited. He was properly appreciative of the meal and the trouble she had taken to please him.

He wiped his mouth with his napkin, pushed his plate back and looked at her. Debbie's heart gave a little flutter of apprehension. That was when he dropped his bombshell.

On Sunday afternoon she was to be spanked again. This spanking would be for not taking care of the ticket and letting it go so long that she was now faced with the suspension of her driver's license and the warrant which was being issued for her arrest. But that wasn't the worst part, she was expecting him to spank her one more time. What was awful about this time was that he was giving her a choice. He would either use a switch on her backside or he would use a paddle. Not just any paddle, he had been working most of the afternoon to construct a special paddle…a paddle with holes drilled into it.

That was when she had gasped with horror. He had never given her a choice before and she didn't want him to this time. Always before he had decided "when," "what" and "how long." This time he was leaving the "what" up to her.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she begged him not to use either one. He quickly let her know that "none of the above" was not going to be an acceptable answer.

"If you refuse to choose, then I will just use them both on you," he said sternly, and you do not want me to do that. You have four days to decide."

"Honey, please…" she started, but he cut her off.

"We are not going to debate this for the next four days. I am leaving the decision up to you." He stood up and looked her firmly right in the eye. "Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," she said sadly. She knew if she brought it up again before the designated time, he would probably spank her for that and she would still be faced with the other spanking on Sunday. With that he turned and left the room.

Debbie buried her face in her hands. This was a terrible dilemma. A switch had been used on her once before, years ago, when she was in a different relationship. She shuddered as she recalled the way that switch had marked her bottom cutting her skin and leaving puffy welts that had remained for days. That switching had hurt like nothing she had ever felt before. He knew that, too, because she had told him about it. She dreaded a switching above all things. But this new horror…a drilled paddle, she had no idea what it was capable of.

What was she going to do? Which one should she choose? He had spent the afternoon making that paddle. He surely wanted her to choose it. That was probably why he had given her the choice between it and a switching. He knew how she felt about a switching.

She tried to debate the pros and cons and finally in frustration pushed her chair back and got up to clear away the supper dishes. The rest of the evening was tense and strained. Tears burned in the back of her throat, but mindful of his threat she did not try to discuss it with him.

Sex that night was wonderful in a bittersweet way as it always was after he had cause to discipline her. But as they lay there in bed, basking in the sleepy glow of exhaustion, Debbie found that she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned restlessly. Finally in frustration, he pulled her into his arms, flipped the covers back and popped her three times on her bottom, which was still tender and sore.

"Ouch," she said. "What was that for?"

"You've got to settle down," he said, "you're driving me crazy." He pulled the covers back up over the two of them and settled her head on his chest. He held her tightly and began to drift off again. Debbie lay still. She firmly pushed her dilemma into the deep recesses of her mind, and tried to obey him. She began counting slowly in her head, willing each individual muscle to relax. The relaxation techniques coupled with the warm strength of his arms worked. She was soon able to join him in a deep restful sleep.

**********************

She awoke the next morning feeling deliciously content. She stretched and opened her eyes. Suddenly the events from the past day crashed down on her as she remembered her predicament. She could hear him in the bathroom getting ready for work. She quickly got up and went in to start the coffee and to fix something for breakfast.

After she kissed him goodbye she wandered restlessly about the house. Which one should she choose? She decided that it might help if she got a look at that paddle. She slipped quietly out the back door, feeling slightly guilty even though he had already left for work. The workroom had always seemed like his "domain" and even though he wouldn't have minded, she had never entered it without permission.

Slipping through the door she looked around. Sure enough there it was. That "thing" had kept him busy most of yesterday. The paddle looked to be about 1/2 inch thick, 12 inches long and maybe 3 1/2 inches wide. There were three rows of holes. The six holes in the outside rows were a little bit larger than the row down the middle.

Looking at that thing made her stomach clinch so hard she thought she might throw up. She flew out of that room and back into the kitchen. No way, no way, she thought. What in the hell was she going to do she certainly didn't want a switching either?

She had to choose one or the other and she only had three more days to decide. There was no way she could make such a decision with out some more information. She was a member of several spanking sites on the Internet but her favorite was the one-list for Bethany's Woodshed. Surely she could get some help there. There were lots of women that were in relationships similar to the one she was in. Maybe they would have some advice. It was worth a try.

On her way to the computer, she made a quick detour into the bedroom to get a pillow to sit on. Sitting at the dinner table, last night, had been painful. She had tried hard not to squirm too much, but he wasn't around now. She decided to make herself comfortable as she typed.

Debbie quickly logged on. For once she ignored the "you have 4 messages" alert and scrolled down her list of favorites to click on ONElist E-mail Communities. In moments the familiar page with that stupid monkey darting back and forth across the top had loaded and she was ready to type in her secret E-mail address and sign in. She used her private E-mail because there was no way she wanted him to read the responses people might send back.

On the list center, she quickly clicked on Bethany's Woodshed. She was pleased to see that there were over 200 members on the One-list now. Surely someone could help her. She clicked on "post a message" and started typing.

"I need some advice from fellow woodshedders." She typed quickly explaining her situation and then told them about the choice she was going to have to make. "Can someone out there give me some personal experience with such a paddle and ideally some advice on which to choose. He made it clear that "none of the above" was an unacceptable answer. Sunday is The Day - so I need your thoughts quickly. Thanks." She signed her name, clicked the "send message" button and leaned back with a sigh. Well, it was off. Now all she had to do is wait to see if anyone could help her.

She logged off without checking her E-mail. For once it held no interest for her, she was consumed with concern about her upcoming decision. Three more days…three days to worry and stew. These would surely be the worst three days of her life. How would she ever get through them?

Later that evening she finally had a chance to log on to the computer to see what kinds of responses she had received. He had gone out back to his workroom (probably to put another coat of varnish on that damn paddle.)

Gaining access to her secret E-mail site she was surprised to see half-a-dozen messages about her problem. Scrolling down she read quickly. The first one said that the paddle could do "lasting harm to your bottom, such as breaking the skin and infection." She shuddered and read on. The next one said, "The paddle is likely to hurt a lot more. Be prepared." Another similar message stated "The paddle would hurt a great deal more and could cause blisters, which could be a source for infections." It also mentioned that a switch could cut into the skin, (she knew first hand about that!) Then message went on to suggest that she request and enema…no way!

The next said that the paddle "hurt but was tolerable and left small bruises on her butt." There…that didn't sound too bad. The bruises she had right now probably wouldn't be described as small.

Sassy's message shook her to her core. It warned "a paddle with holes will give blisters like you won't believe!" A wave of nausea swept over her. Sassy had once said that in a previous relationship, she had been on the end of true sadism. "It can leave tiny little blisters, and bruises…..the paddle can be quite painful! More than you know!" Shit! She had read all she could stand for now. If someone who had actually experience sadism thought it was "quite painful," she would definitely be choosing the switch.

She logged off the Internet just as she heard the back door open. She ducked into the bathroom to splash cool water on her face and to give herself a little time to gain some composure. "…Quite painful! More than you know! " Those words repeated themselves over and over in her mind. It was going to be a long four days.

During the rest of the week she hopped on the Internet every time she got a few minutes. There were always new messages and new suggestions. One message talked about a whipping with the thick leather strap of a weight belt and the overwhelming psychological aspect of seeing it again and again knowing it would be used on you. That is nothing, she thought grimly, compared to the psychological aspect of reading again and again about what a paddle with holes in it will do to your butt.

One guy suggested taking a spanking every night for a week with a different paddle or strap. That sounded better to her, too, but her husband had very clearly stated that it would be an either/or situation.

The tongue-in-cheek suggestion that she surprise him and "choose both" drew a snort of disgust. That suggestion obviously came from a giver and not a receiver of punishment spankings.

On and on the comments went as her "Woodshed friends" tried to give her the advice she so desperately needed. Even Bethany advised that she choose the switch because holes in a paddle eliminate any resistance from the air and can blister. She said it was VERY severe and called the drilled paddle "calculating and deliberate."

Everyone wanted to know what she had done, but she was too embarrassed to tell. What she had done had been so stupid that she would probably have every guy on this list lined up to give her more of the same. Right now sympathy was definitely running in her direction.

Reading some of the comments gave her brief moments of panic where she thought about fleeing and getting out of this relationship once and for all. A message from some guy named Josh helped her put things into perspective. He had obviously considered her problem from many different angles.

She had already pretty much decided to choose the switch and agreed with his comment "better the devil you know than the one you don't." She shuddered to think that Josh was probably right in his view that since the paddle had been constructed special, she probably would experience it sooner or later. Still, right now she was opting for later. What gave her the most comfort was his assertion that either one could damage "if used forcefully enough" and that she should just "trust her man not to do her serious injury with either one." Josh was right, she could trust her man. He would never do her serious harm. His spankings hurt, and sometimes they even left bruises but he wouldn't "savage her butt" ….she hoped.

Debbie clicked off, leaned back and sighed. Time was growing short. She had made up her mind. She would ask for the switch, but she still wanted to share everyone's concerns about excess force, blisters and infection. It was late, and tomorrow was Saturday so she had that day to plan her speech.

She awoke that morning feeling more "at peace" than she had at any time since her husband had first walked into the room holding that damn letter. Her decision was made. She was resolved and the inevitable was approaching.

She logged onto the Internet one more time to thank everyone for all their advice. "I think I'm going to request the switch, but I know that sooner or later I'll have a date with Mr. Paddle," She typed. "I will share the group's concern about excessive force and collateral damage. I think I'll skip the suggestions of alternative disciplines however." She ended the message by promising to let the group know the consequences even if she had to type from a standing position. "Thanks again," she typed, signed her name and logged off.

**********************

Sunday dawned bright and beautiful. They slept late and had a nice unhurried breakfast. She was feeling a little bit on edge and thought he might be too. Despite the underlying tension they had a great day. He took pains to see that she enjoyed herself. They took a long walk down by the lake and the shortly after lunch they went for a bike ride.

As three o'clock approached Debbie was beginning to feel the strain of not talking about it. She couldn't decide whether to bring it up herself or wait for him to broach the topic.

Finally he broke the ice by saying, "Well have you made up your mind, young lady?"

"Yes I have," Debbie said, "but before I tell you which one I have chosen I would like to explain why." She took a deep breath and launched into an explanation of all the dangers that had been shared with her over the past few days about both the drilled paddle and the switch. She ended her speech by saying, "I am really sorry. What I did was stupid and incredibly irresponsible. I know I deserve a very thorough punishment. I also know that you love me and no matter which one I pick you would never purposely do anything to truly injure me. Even so, I am terrified of that paddle and what it might do, so… I want you to punish me with a switching."

Having said that she swallowed hard and looked up into his stern face. It was obvious by the narrowing of his eyes that she had not chosen the one he had wanted to use. But, he had told her she could pick and he wouldn't go back on what he had said.

"Alright," he sighed, "this time it will be the switch." Her face paled, then quickly suffused with red-hot heat, she knew he was implying that she would eventually be treated to an experience with the paddle.

"Follow me," he said, and lead the way out the backdoor. The two of them walked silently across the yard. In one corner they had a tree called a "weeping birch." Debbie had a feeling that name was going to be prophetic. They stopped in front of the tree and he reached deep into his pocket and pulled out his pocketknife. Opening it, he carefully handed it to her and showed her which branch he wanted her to cut.

Debbie was feeling pleased about her decision to take the switching. This wimpy little old branch wasn't nearly as intimidating as the one that had marked her bottom so painfully years ago. Then he pointed out several others he also wanted her to cut. She looked at him questioningly but knew better than to actually ask questions at this point. She did as she was told, sawing carefully through the green wood. It wasn't nearly as easy as it looked. By the time he had pointed out six different branches for her to cut, she was feeling far less confident about her decision.

"Strip off all the leaves," he said. She slid her closed hand backwards along the switch and watched the leaves pop off and fall to the ground. She had a feeling that he was making her do this to increase her distress and humiliation…It was working.

"Now, I want you to cut them all to a uniform length."

When she had them readied to his satisfaction they returned to the house and went into the bedroom.

"Drop 'em," he said, "you know the routine." He made her stand in the corner with her bottom on display for about fifteen minutes. As she waited growing more and more nervous, she could hear him readying the rest of the room.

"Okay," he said, "I've waited long enough. Get rid of those shorts and come lie across the bed. I want you to hang onto the headboard."

She kicked out of her shorts and walked slowly toward him with feet that felt like concrete blocks. Three pillows had been piled one on top of the other in the center of the bed and one was near the top to cradle her head. She climbed up and positioned her bottom directly over the top pillow. She hung on tightly to the rails of the headboard and turned her face to look at him.

He was holding not one, but three of the switches! Her heart began to thump painfully in her chest.

"Tell me why you are getting this switching, Deb," he said.

Her mouth was so dry she had to swallow twice before she could speak. "Because I was stupid," she said. "I should have taken care of that ticket and I never did."

"That's right," he said. "This one may be the worst problem you have ever neglected, but it certainly isn't the first. After this afternoon, I hope it will be the last."

Debbie silently agreed.

"Here is what is going to happen," he explained. "You are going to get twelve strokes with these switches." He held up the three that were grasped firmly in his right hand. "Then I will give you a five-minute rest period. That will be followed by twelve more strokes with the other three switches. Your irresponsible procrastination is not going to continue!"

He stepped up to the bed and placed his hand in the small of her back. She heard a soft swish as the switches sliced through the air a split-second before pain seared through backside. She had definitely underestimated the impact of those "wimpy" little branches. She gasped and pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth.

The three switches did not feel as "cutting" as the switching she had received years ago, but each stroke caused the three switches to spread out and cover the full expanse of her behind. The second stroke almost made her bite through her bottom lip, so she quickly released it.

When the fourth stroke fell, it overlapped several of the welts created by the first strokes. Deb gasped again. "Shit!" she said. "This really fucking hurts!"

"Watch your language, young lady," he said, "or I'll soap your mouth and add to your total."

"Noooo, please," she begged. The strokes continued to overlap, placing pain upon pain. Debbie made it through the first six before the tears began to flow. She turned her face into the pillow to muffle her cries. She would never survive twenty-four of these, never. She wasn't completely sure she would survive the first twelve. Each blow caused her body to jerk and drew forth a wail of anguish.

The eighth blow landed low, across a very private part of her anatomy. She screeched and arched her body. Her hands flew off the rungs of the headboard, and she started to reach back to cover her aching flesh.

"If you put your hands back to cover yourself, I will switch to the paddle," he warned. She grabbed the headboard and hung on for dear life.

She collapsed limp with relief when the burning blows stopped for her five-minute break. He slowly and gently smoothed his hand along her aching backside, feeling the welts and checking the surface temperature. He slid his hand on down and felt for a dampness between her legs. Sure enough, she was as wet as her backside was hot.

Too quickly for Deb, the five minutes slipped by and she watched him picked up the fresh switches.

"No more…please," she pleaded, barely able to speak. "I've learned my lesson. It won't happen again. I promise!" He never answered her, the time for talking had past. If she thought the first twelve had hurt, then these last ones were excruciating. She cried out each time that they landed, criss-crossing her earlier welts. Tears poured out of her eyes, wetting the pillow that cradled her face.

She couldn't stand this. Her pleas became hysterical as she begged him to stop. She would promise him anything if he would only cease this torment.

He stopped after number twenty. "How about taking that paddling?" he asked. "You only have four more to go."

She thought about it, quickly tossing around the idea. Only four more, maybe it would be better to get it over with rather than having him watch, eagle-eyed, for another opportunity to use it. She thought about the paddle with its three rows of holes. Sassy's message flashed through her mind. "….the paddle can be quite painful! More than you know!"

"Well?" He asked.

She panicked at the thought of thin welts overlaid with round blisters.

"No," she sniffed, "give me my last four with the birch." He let her have them! By the time he laid the switches down she was twitching uncontrollably and sobbing so hard she could barely catch her breath.

He gently pulled the pillows out from under her lower belly and sat down at the head of the bed. He held out his arms and she crawled over to lay her head in his lap. He tenderly smoothed back her hair and rubbed her back as he let her cry, her tears acted as a catharsis, cleansing her soul.

Moments later she knew with certainty why she loved this man so much. Even though she had deserved this switching, he quickly began to make amends by turning her painful punishment into an incredibly erotic experience that she was not likely to ever forget.

"And even more than usual," Debbie typed to her Woodshed friends later that evening, "the slow build-up of heat and pain from the thrashing drove me to a state of arousal that was WONDERFUL….

I certainly don't want the switch…or rod…or whatever you call it, EVERY TIME. But this went beyond satisfying and makes me think it might become my "whipping of choice" for that especially naughty occasion. Having said that, you should all know I'm wearing a white silk nighty and sitting on a pillow as I type…."

She signed her name, clicked on the "send message" button and leaned back in her chair with a contented sigh.