The Switch


by Thomas Hobbes <Sebboh@hotmail.com>

Lunch came and went and Tom kept waiting for B. B. to exact his revenge for the morning and the night before. They continued the tree trimming and moved down to the gardens, hedges, and lawn as the afternoon wore on. With the temperature still far above November norms both were perspiring heavily enough to soak through flannel shirts. Soon enough Tom stripped down to his tee and B. B. followed suit.

"You take care of all this yourself, Tom, I take it?" B. B. said when they finally stopped for a break in late afternoon.

"No," Tom replied, "I have a hired man. You."

"Bet you're wondering when and what you're gonna get, right Tom?"

"Get?" Tom asked. "I don't get it."

"You will in a minute, Tom. You may get more than you bargained for boy."

"Who you callin' boy, boy!" Tom shot back with a smile.

"Ah, that's it. You can't wait, huh? Want to get it over with now?"

"Pleeeease, B. B.? Pretty puleeeeease?" Tom whined sarcastically but smiling.

"Put the hedge trimmer away and get your sorry butt into the house, Tom. Time for a shower–you smell like a sweat hog."

Tom took the trimmer and stashed it in the shed. When he returned B. B. just pointed to the house.

"Get in the house! Payback is gonna be a bitch, Tom!"

Once inside the back porch, both of them pulled off their shoes caked with the compost of the gardens, then B. B. followed Tom into the kitchen. B. B. pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat down.

"Get over here," B. B. ordered.

Tom stood in front of him, a noticeable lump inside his grubby jeans.

"Hands at your sides, Tom. Seems you think this might be 'stimulating'. Well, we shall see just how much stimulation you think you can take."

B. B. unbuckled Tom's belt, opened his jeans, pulled them down to his knees. Then he slipped Tom's briefs down to bare his erection and took his time inspecting that and Tom's balls..

"Nice looking hard on, you have here, Tom. Why don't you show me how you like to play with it?"

Tom took his _c_o_c_k_ in hand and started to tug and stroke himself till a dew drop appeared at the tip and B. B. yanked his hand away and replaced it with his own.

"Discipline, Tom. Let's see how much self-control you have here. See if you cum easily. Keep your hands at your sides if you know what's good for you."

After several minutes of B. B.'s stroking Tom knew he was about to lose this battle of the wills and his hips involuntarily thrust forward ever so slightly as he felt the load cumming. B. B. snapped a grip on so hard it hurt. And it stopped Tom's cum dead in his balls. B. B. stood up and took Tom by the back of the neck, bending him over the kitchen table. With his left hand he held Tom's chest flat to the table and with his right he spanked Tom's bared ass hard and often, cracking both cheeks till they were beyond rosy and Tom was starting to rock side to side. A good hundred cracks later he stepped back to see the results.

"Pretty good start, Tom! Time for a shower before I finish with you. So get on down to the bedroom, strip yourself completely, and get a couple of towels out of the linen closet for us."

Tom hobbled down the hallway to his bedroom, stripped himself for the shower, then got the towels out. B. B. caught up with him in the bathroom, Tom still with the crimson ass and the hard on.

"Come over here first," B. B. said. "You need a pre-wash here in the sink; then you get in the shower. And when you come out, you come into my bedroom, boy. You hear me?"

"Yes, sir," Tom replied as he now stood by the sink, waiting.

B. B. turned the warm water on, lathered up the soap, and started a good scrubbing of Tom's balls and _c_o_c_k_. Once again the dew came to the tip and B. B. clamped his grip.

"Turn round and bend over the edge of tub, Tom."

Tom did as he was told and expected the worst. Instead he felt a warm cloth on his still stinging ass, then the cool shave creme, and, finally, the razor sliding across the hot skin. B. B. took his time and shaved him of the little hair he had there. Even pulled his crack open and carefully worked there as best he could. Then came the cold rinse.

"Came all this way, Tom, and I just want to be sure you get the full treatment. Wouldn't want to leave tomorrow and have left something undone. Now get your nice, shaved ass into the shower and when you finish, come to my room."

"Yes, sir," Tom replied, his _c_o_c_k_ still hard.

"And if you jerk yourself off in that shower I'll whip you so hard you have to drive me to the airport tomorrow standing up. You hear?"

Tom climbed into the tub, pulled the curtain and turned on the water. B. B. went to his room to wait. Five minutes later Tom arrived clad only in his towel, scrubbed, clean, and his ass still red.

"Stand at the end of the bed, Tom. Spread your feet, keep your knees straight, and bend across the end of the bed."

Tom did as he was told and heard the unmistakable sound of B. B. unbuckling his belt, then pulling it free of the loops on his jeans. B. B. doubled the leather belt and then yanked the towel off Tom's waist leaving him buck naked.

"Ever since I first read your stories at MMSA Stories I have thought of this day, Tom. The day when I would be standing behind you to give you a strapping just as thorough as those the boys in your stories get. I mean to give you a good one, boy. You understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Tom said quietly. His butt still burned from the kitchen.

B. B. took the doubled belt back, leaned forward and cracked it across Tom's ass. Then a second, third, fourth, fifth lick followed with enough time between each for an inch wide dark band to spring out on the scarlet cheeks.

"You like to give it out in your stories, Tom. How do you like it on the receiving end?" B. B. asked as he laid another, harder lick on.

"Aaaaaaah, that hurt, sir! I think the Bible has it right, sir. It IS better to give than to receive!" Tom answered.

"I do like a man with a sense of humor!" B. B. laughed. Then he continued to lay the leather belt on, harder now, but slower. Each lash of the doubled strap aimed and measured toward his goal: bringing Tom upright. They had locked wills and Tom summoned every ounce of his will power to stay over the end of the bed and take any strapping B. B. could lay on his torched ass. B. B. stopped for a few minutes to lecture him, then stood back and lashed the belt as hard as he could just under Tom's ass and that broke the stalemate.

"Gaaaaaaaawd!" Tom squealed as he rose up and turned to face B. B. with his eyes wide.

"Got your attention, now, do I? Good," B. B. said with a smile. "I was wondering what it would take. Now we both know. So. I'm going to take my shower and when I come out I expect to find you downstairs in the workshop just as naked as you are now. First, though, you slip some shorts on and go out back and cut me a willow switch, boy. And you cut one that won't break. If it does break you'll cut another and we will start over. Six strokes, Tom. Just like a good caning at an English public school."

B. B. left Tom standing there in silence and went into the bathroom for his shower. Tom pulled a pair of sweat pants on, grabbed a pocket knife, and went out to the back yard to cut a willow switch. By the time B. B. got dressed and found his way down to the basement Tom was already there, stretched over the oak whipping bench, the thick, supple switch lying on the workbench next to him. B. B. took up the switch and stood there for a moment looking at the cross hatched strap marks and the dark red ass cheeks.

"Very nice craftsmanship in the bench, Tom! Very, very nice!" B. B. offered as he swished the switch through the air to test it.

"Thanks," Tom replied. "Never thought when I made it I would find myself across it."

"Tell you the truth, I had thought to take you out back of the shed and whip you with your hands tied across a low limb. Kind of like they did in the Army a century back. Only they didn't do it on the ass, I guess!" B. B. laughed. "Six strokes, Tom. Six. Count 'em out, boy."

The willow switch hissed through the air and snapped home on Tom's heated ass.

"One!!" Tom shouted. "Good gawd almighty, sir! ONE!"

B. B. looked down and saw the weal starting to raise across the top of Tom's butt, a small swelling out on the far end where the tip snapped home. He took aim just a bit lower and the switch hissed a second time.

"TWO! Ooooooo!" Tom responded, sounding like an echo chamber in a radio studio.

B. B. whipped the switch home a third time, dead across the center of Tom's upraised, strapped ass.

"Hoooooooooo. . . Three!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Mmmmmmmmmmm," Tom squealed. His knuckles white on the bar he fought not to let go and rise up.

"Ever had the switch before, boy?" B. B. asked as his finger traced the three welts on Tom's ass.

"NO, sir. And I don't ever want it again, either!"

Hissssssssssssss. . . . . . thwuuuuuuuuuck!

"Four, sir! Please sir!" Tom pleaded.

B. B. had laid the fourth just under the fleshiest area.

"OK. Tell you what, boy," B. B. said. "Up to you. If you want to be let off the last two, ok. Get up. If you think you are man enough to take them, then take them."

B. B. waited for an interminable minute in silence while Tom wrestled with himself. But Tom remained across the whipping bench and raised his ass up as if to invite the last two cuts.

Swissssssssssssh . . . . . whuuuuuuuuuuup B. B. laid the switch across the very tops of Tom's still pristine thighs.

"Five, sir!" Tom shouted.

Hisssssssssss . . . . . . . . . . . . thwuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck B. B. laid the sixth and last cut an inch below the fifth. A purple railroad track now revealed itself on Tom's white thighs.

"Proud of you, Tom. Now you just stay right where you are. What's good for the goose is good for the gander, boy!"

Tom felt his cheeks being pried open and B. B.'s finger gently rubbing the Ben Gay into the shaved crevass, pores wide open from the recent razor. He fought back tears and hung on to the bar as B. B. took his time rubbing the analgesic into the weals. Then B. B. visited the ultimate indignity, probing his pucker with the tip well greased in the hot balm.

"Might hurt now, but the creme will make you sit much better tomorrow!" B. B. said. "At least I took care not to get any on your nut sack!"

As B. B. massaged his ass Tom got hard once again.

"Stand up, boy!" B. B. ordered.

Tom watched as B. B. got the hand lotion from the cabinet, then laid the yard stick out on the floor.

"Let's see if you can break my record of twenty-two inches, Tom!" B. B. said. Then he spilled a good amount of lotion into his palm, took hold of Tom's hard on, and starting stroking him.

B. B. watched as the second spurt shot nearly twenty inches. His record was safe.

"What time do we have to leave for the airport tomorrow, Tom?"

"Probably seven or so," Tom answered.

"Good. Plenty of time in the morning for you to take a second shot at my record. And tomorrow when you get back from the airport, you write this little episode up and post it for me at MMSA Stories."


More stories byThomas Hobbes