Thankfully, I walked to school, because riding a bus would’ve been torture. My mom still loomed, and I knew she wasn’t going to be happy. Breaking school roles and being ‘slutty’? I was in a whole hell of a lot of trouble.

As I got into the house, there was mom, and laying at my ‘spot’ at the table was a pair of scissors. I knew what it meant, instantly, and started begging: “Please, mommy, not a switch! I’m sorry! My butt is already bruised. I’m sorry! Please, no, please, please” etc. She literally didn’t say a word, just waited until I talked myself out and then pointed at the back door. So out a-switch-picking I went.

Switchings were very rare. This was only the third of my life. They were for only the most severe punishments. As I found a decent branch of the bushes behind our house, I started crying again, cut it, and cleaned off all the twigs and leaves and bumps, getting it ready to tan my own hide.

Slowly I walked back into the house, and my mom finally spoke. “Strip.” “What?” “You want to show off your body? You can show me.”

Well, off went my clothes, and I cried some more. My mom told me to get my little ass over the back of the chair, and as I turned around, I heard her gasp. I don’t think she had believed me when I told her how bruised I was. For a moment, I thought I would get a reprieve, but just as I started thinking that…swish, swish, swish, and I was screaming again.

In all honesty, it was the shortest switching I ever got – probably not more than 20 licks (usually it was more like 50) – but given the state my butt was in, it was also the worst.

Later, Mom told me she almost decided to wait a day but felt that might’ve been too mean, a whole day waiting for that whipping, and then her giving me the full thing. Gee, thanks mom! So merciful!