B is for Birch Rod on the A-Z spanking challenge

A favorite of the Victorian disciplinarians, the birch rod isn't actually a rod at all, but a bundle of switches, stripped of twigs and leaves, then tied together.  Legal for judicial punishments in the UK until 1948, a heavy birch could bring considerable pain, welts and cuts but was considered a mild and degrading punishment.  

However, for domestic discipline and spanking romance, a lighter birching is more apropos. Delivered to a naughty bare behind, a light birch in a Head of Household, loving dominant, or Master's hand can deliver a memorable sting while leaving few marks.  

Here's a taste of the birch from Surrender Your Grace to illustrate my point...

Swish, swish, swish.  He landed another twenty lashes with the birch stopping when she had no more sassy remarks or comments.  Instead, he saw a remorseful and thoroughly punished young woman with reddened tear-filled eyes and a well-birched behind.  Afterwards, when she started to stand he corrected her.

“Uh, uh, uh, Cecilia.  I want you to stay bent over the bench with your punished backside on display while I work on some correspondence.  Then you shall come across my knee for the remainder.”

“You can’t be serious, Andrew.”

“Of course I can, and I am.  Spread your legs wider.”

“But my… uh, private areas will show and my knees are beginning to ache.”

“You may stand then,” he said as he made allowances for her discomfort and helped her to rise.  “But you will stand bent over the bench.  I will enjoy your spectacle every moment as I work.”  

His hand gently grazed her heated skin, the warmth rising as if from a crackling hot fire in the hearth.   He dipped his fingers between her thighs testing the moisture there and found she was sopping wet.  He played there for a bit, smiling.  Somehow chance had brought him a woman who matched his tastes exactly.   

“Spread wider, Cici.”  He took his foot and moved hers apart until the drawers that were stuck at her knees were stretched to the limit.   “Very good, now stay this way until I say you can move.  I’m going to catch up on my personal correspondence in the meantime.” 

So Cici stood, bent over the bench with her bright red, swollen and burning bum on display and what he imagined was a persistent and tantalizing tingling between her thighs.  After thirty minutes had passed and Andrew had gotten not an ounce of work accomplished, he decided to have mercy on her and himself.  

“You did quite well for your first birching.  Your skin is a becoming rosy red yet doesn’t have the slightest blemish, nor a single bruise or cut upon it.  It was a very mild punishment, after all.”

“I have to say, husband, your idea of mild contrasts greatly with my own.”

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