Coming of Age

Miss Elizabeth Mary sat at her dresser, the bright summer sun high in the sky, in her chemise and petticoat, contemplating the long slim package lying across it.  The mirror picture framed a pretty young woman of the classic blonde-hair blue-eyed beauty, so prized in Kentucky society.

Yesterday there had been an abundance of parcels – a huge one from mommy and poppa, that held the finest silk ball gown she had ever owned.   She was certain none of circle of female friends had been given such a wonderful gift on their sixteenth birthday.

And a wonderful party, with just about anybody who was anybody there.   For a short time while she and the younger guests were left to themselves, they even managed to play a short game of kissing ring.   As  the birthday girl, she had actually got to give Lance a quick buss.   It was such a wonderful time.

Now, it was time to get dressed and then downstairs for a breakfast of bacon, scrambled eggs and grits.

Life was just heaven!

She examined the label on the box.  It was poppa’s handwriting and it read “Use this wisely and with restraint.”

She opened the box and pulled out a three foot black leather switch.

Her heart sank.

It would be another two years before she would go to the Conservatory, and a total of five before her coming out ball.   And yet, her childhood was now over.

She returned the switch to its box,  picked up the small, dainty hand bell from among the collection of glass jars, vases that stood on the dresser, and tinkled it.

Lucy arrived in seconds.  

“Good morning Miss Elizabeth.   That was one fine party.  Do you want to get dressed?”   The young girl wore a radiant beam of a smile, her white teeth contrasting vividly with her dark brown skin.  She would not be 16 for another few weeks.

Elizabeth pointed to the padded chair by the side of her dresser.   “Sit down, Lucy”

The smile quickly evaporated.   Being told to sit down was usually the harbinger of bad news.  She sat down and faced her mistress, quickly running through the events of the last 24 hours.   Had she done something wrong?

“Lucy,” she started to say,   Stopped,  Picked up the box, Took out the switch.   Lay it between them.    

“From now on, if you are in need of discipline, I am to do it myself.”

Lucy nodded.   This was the way things had always been done in the five years she had been  in this household.   So – what was she about to get whopped for?   That was very unclear.

“Lucy – I have never been hit in my life!   I have never hit anyone in my life!   How am I supposed to do that to you?”

“It'll be no worse than you telling Jasmine about my misdeeds. “

Jasmine was the most senior of the maids.   A big sturdy woman, with a sharp tongue when talking to the other domestics, and a sweet smile for everyone else.

“Jasmine beats you?”    Elizabeth’s incredulity was very plain to see.

“No – she tells Jackson, and he gets to whup me, good and proper, as is right.”

“You don’t mind being beaten?”

“I’ve a good life here, Miss Elizabeth.   I’m privileged to live in a nice house, eat good food, sleep in a comfortable bed.   If I have to pay for it sometimes, it ‘s only fair.”

“So it’s all right to get beaten?   I’ve never got beaten, ever.   In fact, the only way it could ever happen to me is if I should have the misfortune to marry a man who believes his wife should be subjected to corporal punishment.”

“You is a young mistress.   It wouldn’t be right for you to be beat.   Not by anyone,   I is different.   I can happily take my beatings – for, if nothing else,  I is never going  have to face the whip of a task master in the fields.  And that means a lot to me, Miss”

That was true, thought Elizabeth.   The field hands faced very rough justice if they did not do their work properly and diligently.

“So - when Jackson whups you.   How many times does he hit you?”

“Depends, Miss Elizabeth.   Never less than six.   And the most I ever gotten was three dozen.   It depends.”

“On how bad you have been.”

“Yes.   On that.   And on what sort of temper Jackson is in, as well, I guess...”

“This is dreadful.  Here I am, and I am supposed to take a switch to your bottom .   The nearest thing I ever got to being spanked was that one time I fell of my pony.”

Lucy smiled.   “Yes, when I bathed those bruises, it looked just as if you had just been given a dose of a paddle.”

“Well, there is only one way I can see getting any answer out of this.”

She picked up the switch by its business end and pointed the handle at Lucy.

“You shall have to give me a taste with this.   I need to know.”

“Miss Elizabeth!   I cannot do that!   That would be madness!”

“I can always get Jackson to come up here and show me how he would deal with a house hand who had got too uppity for her own good …”

Lucy shrank back.   “Please don’t make me do this, Miss Elizabeth.”

“I don’t relish the thought, but it might be good for me.”

She stood up, removed her petticoat, and went to the bed to lay her upper body across the crumpled sheets and blankets.

Lucy stood there, the switch dangling, looking at her mistress’s bare cheeks peeping out of the back of her bloomers.

“I don’t know, Miss Elizabeth.   I just don’t know.   Just how many of these is I suppose to give?”

“How many did Jackson give you when I blamed you for breaking that cup which I had actually broken?”

“I got twelve that time, Miss.”

Elizabeth propped herself up on her elbows, and looked back.   “Didn’t you tell him I had broken it?”

“Of course not, Miss Elizabeth.  I always gladly took the blame for anything of yours. In any case, it made up for the times you missed.   Like when I takes a dab of your perfume without you knowing.”

“Right then, twelve it shall be,” announced Elizabeth.  We might need a chat about that perfume, one day, she thought.  She started to lie back down, but paused.   “Oh, you might be thinking that you can hold back on how hard you hit.   If I should think you have held back, you will get one last visit to Jackson before I take over his duties.   Is that clear?”

“Yes, miss.”

Elizabeth lay down again, clenched a blanket tightly, and her lips over her teeth.   Oh lord, she thought to herself, how did I talk myself into this?

Lucy stepped forward, and pulled the edges of the gap in the bloomers, so that both buttocks stood totally bared, framed on all four sides by crisp white cotton.

She wanted the twelve back for when she broke the cup, did she?   Then twelve good ones coming up.

Lucy was not a tall or athletic girl, but what she lacked in muscle was more than compensated by the thin suppleness of one mean little switch.

The blows, evenly timed, all landed in one very narrow band fairly low on Elizabeth’s bottom, which was clenched as hard as it could be until the last crack had bitten.

She did not know how she stood the last few.  She was ready to call a halt after the first four : but a mixture of pride and grit made her lie still – almost still – and silent – apart from some loud gasps toward the end – until it was over and done.

Lucy poured some water into the bowl on the nightstand, wetted a face towel, and used it to dab Elizabeth’s stripes.

“Please Miss Elizabeth, never ask me to do anything like that again.”

Elizabeth looked back at her, tears on her cheeks.   “I shall not ask ever again.”

“Promise”

“You have my word.”

---oo0oo---

Downstairs mommy and poppa paused in eating their meal at the sound of a switch being used upstairs.

“It did not take Elizabeth long to find use for her present.” he remarked.

His wife nodded agreement.

“I do hope that she is not going turn whip-happy on us …”

---oo0oo---

Elizabeth entered the dining room in her primrose yellow dress and walked stiffly to the sideboard to help herself to a plate.

“Are you alright, dear” called her mother.

“Just very stiff from all that dancing and frolicking last night,   I shall have a bite, and then go lie down for a while.”

Mommy turned to poppa and said very quietly “I do hope she is not coming down with something.   She has such a very tender skin.”

Poppa nodded, and returned to his scrambled eggs.