State of Grace
(f/f semi-cons hard, f/f nc mild, FM/ff nc severe)
Hannah Rayburn and Grace McKee went back home speechless and with a sad look. Evelyn Rayburn, Hannah's mother, pointed at the stairs leading to the first floor.
"Hannah, to your room. You as well, Grace. You two are staying there until bedtime. And no dinner tonight."
The children nodded silently and were on their way, but started exchanging looks from the very first steps.
"I thought worse," said Grace, twelve years old, brown hair and green eyes. "I thought your mom would stripe you for good."
"She'd stripe you too," replied Hannah, her best friend: same age, black hair and eyes and an olive skin.
Grace said nothing, but she knew sure as hell it was true: it figures. Rayburn household's witch would waste no time and give her bottom a sound thrashing just as well. Not that she did care, now. They'd been left off easy, that's all it mattered. So they marched up the stairs up to Hannah's room, where they locked themselves in as ordered.
Afternoon slipped off uneventfully, immersed in exasperating slowness and boredom, and it really was hard to be able to use the phone, television or any other modern-day device. Hannah and Grace read, played and chattered mostly, but they did that all day long anyway, and still it was boring. So they welcomed bedtime with a certain satisfaction; at least that'd put an end to the day and they could start all over again in the morning.
That had been their only punishment for skipping school – one dinner-less night and some dull hour. They hadn't been that naughty, after all... had they?
"Have we been naughty?" Grace asked as she slipped on her white pyjama top.
"What you're talking about?" Hannah was getting ready for the night as well, but she usually slept in an oversized shirt and underwear.
"School, you know," said Grace hesitantly. "I'm not sure, maybe we shouldn't have been running like that."
"Sure we shouldn't..." Hannah agreed. Then her smile turned to a mischievous grin: "But it was well worth it! I mean, did you see Jimmy looking at you?"
"God, yes!" Grace giggled, and hid her mouth behind a hand.
They both jumped on the bed – Grace with her pyjama bottoms still in hand – getting ready to a long, never-ending girlie chat about boys and summer crushes, but momma Rayburn's call from outside the room got in the way.
"Get to bed, little girls!"
Hannah sighed hard and rolled her eyes. "Yes, mother."
Evelyn opened the door and scooped her head inside. "I mean it. Does anyone wish to sleep on their tummy?"
That was a veiled threat, but they both caught it immediately: you can't but sleep on your tummy when you have a red and pulsating bottom. With that nasty thought still in mind, the kids finished their preparations and finally got under the sheets. They were sleeping in a double bed, Grace on the first floor and Hannah on the second. Evelyn and her husband had bought such a thing because Grace used to sleep there so frequently it looked like they had a second daughter.
The "daughters" stood silent for a little while, maybe really trying to get some sleep. But then, all of a sudden, a weird thought crossed Grace's mind. It had been dancing around for a while now, and she just had to spit it out.
"Your mom's right," she said.
Hannah did not understand: "You mean?"
"We've been lucky. We'd deserve to sleep on our tummy."
Hannah sighed again, and instinctively brought a hand back to protect her backside. "You say this 'cos you never tried."
Grace opened her eyes wide. She got off the bed, switched on the light and looked at her friend straight in the eye. "Are you nuts? You forgot about Aspen, last year? I thought your dad would never stop giving it to me!"
"Oh come on, it was just a couple of swats. Even on the seat of your jeans. Do you remember my spankings, huh? Belt, naked ass, half a hour, corner... anything familiar?"
"You're so permalosa. You think you're the only one to get it."
"I sure get it harder than you do, that's all," said Hannah, she too climbing off the bed and confronting her friend.
"I bet you're even proud of that..."
"I'm a good girl. Spankings do me good, you know?" she said, as though she was mimicking her parents. "You, on the other hand, really seem to need some more."
Grace was breathless: she'd taken her right where she wanted.
"That's what I wanted to tell," she said, hesitantly. She suddenly turned dead serious. "It's my fault if we've skipped school. It was me to convince you."
Hannah bit her lower lip, thoughtful. "Go ahead."
"Well, I..." Grace played nervously with her hands, looking around as if looking for words. "Well, I think I... I think that maybe, after all... well, your mom wouldn't be wrong if she striped us for good."
"Cool," said Hannah, coolly. "Then go out there belt in hand and ask for it."
"Will not!" Grace cried. She too massaged her posterior. "I'm such a wimp, I can't do that."
"So what? You just throwing the rock?"
"It's just that... well, I'm scared. I'm scared I might get it too hard. And then I'm not really sure."
"Okay, I'm asking."
And she was off for the door. It dawned on Grace that if she let Hannah out she would be in big trouble. The Rayburn were easy spankers, and wouldn't think twice.
"Wait, you can't do that!"
"No!" Again she stopped her, this time stepping in her way, planting herself before the door.
"So?" said Hannah, a daring expression on her face. "What you're gonna do now? If you move, I'll go. If you don't, when mother comes checking if we're asleep she'll beat us anyway. Just you choose the way."
Grace shook her head, as she felt a tear running down her cheek. "Oh, couldn't I just keep my goddamn mouth shut? Oh, please Hannah!"
"It was your fault. You deserve a spanking. You said it yourself."
"So you spank me then!"
The words escaped her mouth like birds from an open cage. Before she realised she had spoken them, they were off and flowing in the air. Grace brought a hand to her mouth, as though she wanted to keep them inside, but it was too late. Unable to sustain her friend's gaze, she stared at the carpet instead, a mortified-but-terrified expression on her face. When she finally found the courage to look, she saw Hannah nodding slowly, a grin painted on her lips.
"As you wish."
It happened faster than light. Hannah took her by an arm and dragged her to the bed. A few incoherent sounds escaped Grace's mouth, but other than that she was unable to say anything. There was no way she could possibly oppose now. And the thought that she'd put herself in that mess was almost unbearable.
Again, the events were one step ahead of her: before realising it, she found herself draped across Hannah's thighs, her upper half on the bedspread and the lower dangling. Futile to say, her bottoms-clad bottom was arched and in a perfect spanking position. And Hannah Rayburn, who had received countless spankings in her life but never been on the other side, was really, really eager to live for the moment. Grace was the cutest, the most admired, always the perfect girl...
Oh, God, Hannah:carpe diem.
"Hannah, please..." Grace whined. Her crying started off even before the swats. She could do nothing to stop her friend now, and so she was...
The first blow surprised her completely. She wriggled in Hannah's lap, but the child kept her steady rounding her waist with her arm. Although Grace's built was bigger than hers, she was having no trouble restraining her feeble escape attempts.
Two more swats, one on the right buttock and one on the left. The pyjama bottoms light cotton tissue was stretched on Grace's derriere due to her position, and neither that nor the skimpy panties she wore were offering any real protection.
"Please, I changed my mind!"
"Way too late for that." SPANK! WHACK! "You've been looking for this so hard... SPANKWHACKWHAPWHAP ... that I'd feel guilty if I didn't satisfy your expectations!"
She spanked her alright, punishing her as every disobedient child should be punished. And like every disobedient child – Hannah knew them well: she happened to be one of them – Grace needed a good, long, hard spanking.
A good, long, hard spanking on her bare bottom, if Hannah remembered correctly from her own experiences. Therefore she didn't think twice, and quickly lowered Grace's pyjama bottoms and cotton panties to her knees.
SPANK! SPANK! WHACK!
They rained down again and again, and Grace suffocated her cried in the pillow not to be heard. She struggled trying to relieve the pain, but she didn't really have the nerve to escape Hannah now.
SMACK!! SPANK!! WHACK!! WHAP!!
As the smacks grew in strength and tempo, Grace recalled her own words: maybe it was true, maybe she really deserved that; maybe, for once, she had done the right thing. Who knows? Maybe she would remember that extreme gesture of selflessness honesty for a long time...
SPANK!! SMACK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! WHACK!! WHAP!!
... mostly because it'd be hard to forget it with such a painful bottom.
"Hannah, stop..." she whined piteously. "That's enough, come on."
The pain burning in her backside was driving her mad, and she was reaching the threshold; she was lucky that Hannah let her up just a few seconds before she did. The other child let Grace on her feet and kept her standing before her, still slapping her buttocks and back thighs as her friend cried in pain. Then Hannah turned her around and admired her handiwork, nodding solemnly. When Grace tried to soothe the sting by rubbing her bottom, Hannah strictly forbid it.
"Please, it's hurting so much!" Grace whined.
Hannah was secretly enjoying the moment: for once it wasn't her to perform the usual "dance of the well-spanked-girl".
"Is it? You should know better, then. Here, think about it. Here in the corner," she barked as she led Grace to the corner. She pushed her trembling frame into it, nose and white-socked feet pressed against the wall. "Hands in front of you, look at the floor. And if you dare move..." She ended the sentence with one loud SPANK!! across both cheeks, which renewed Grace's wails. "If you move I'll start all over again. With my dad's belt."
WHACK! SPANK! Two more, one on each cheek.
"Okay..." Grace murmured, nodding tearfully.
"Fine. Now I'm going to bed. You can come in half a hour, but don't let me catch you wearing pyjama bottoms or panties in the morning. If you're not naked from the waist down you'll be in big trouble, missy!"
SPANK! One more hearty smack and Hannah left her crying, sorry and thoroughly punished best friend Grace in the corner, and then pulled herself under the sheets. She sure would have sweet dreams.
* * *
It was the weirdest sensation ever felt.
As she awoke, Grace felt there was something different. She breathed slowly against the pillow she laid her head on, the sheets and covers were keeping her warm, the soft morning light was slipping in from the window just as every morning... and yet something was wrong.
She got off the bed to use the toilet, and then she drastically, dramatically realised what it was: no panties, no pyjama bottoms. And a pair of still stinging buttocks. She remembered it all in a second. Her damn tongue, the spanking, the corner, the bed. And a lot of tears, and an unbearable stinging that was still going on. Well, thought Grace as she got off the bed, at least she can't see if I rub it now. And that's what she did, rubbing her bottom up and down on the still sore flesh.
And finally she took the terrible, dreaded decision: she needed to go and use the toilet, but between her and the bathroom lay a long corridor. Could she afford herself to walk down it... with nothing on but her shirt? Well, what do I care anyway? She's not my guardian after all, and the punishment's over. She won't care if I wear something now. But on the other hand, if she wore something maybe Hannah would think she did the previous night, and then... Okay, I'm off like this.
She shyly scooped her head out of Hannah's door. Nothing left, nothing right. No one around, not a sound. It was just six a.m. after all, it was unlikely to find someone awake. With a silent but fast pace, she slipped out of the door and headed for the bathroom, the morning's cool breeze whipping her backside... not again! After a long rush she got there.
Grace closed the bathroom door behind her and locked it. She did what she needed – much easier without having to strip off – washed her hands and prepared to go back outside. Again she put her head out to check for Hannah's relatives, and again she found none. Another rush straight to the room's door, when suddenly she heard a sound! A door opening!
She dashed with all the speed she could muster, a true lightning. Her naked feet entered Hannah's room a microsecond before mamma Rayburn's slippers entered the corridor. For a moment, Mrs. Rayburn thought she had seen a shadow, maybe iin the shape of a reddish bottom, but discarded it as a trick of her imagination.
In Hannah's room, Grace rested on the door, panting. She allowed herself time to catch her breath, remaining silent until Mrs. Rayburn's steps had trailed off in the distance. Phew! That was so close. Nothing happened, fortunately, and she could go back to bed and wait for Hannah's awakening. Her friend was long from being awake; still sound asleep, she had twisted and turned in her sleep as she always did, this ending up with her stomach on the pillow, the feet on the wall and the head about to fall off the bed. Her long T-shirt must have risen up to her shoulders in the process, so she presented the re-entering Grace her nude back, her frilly white panties and nude legs.
Seeing Hannah like that and thinking just how COOL it would be to spank the s**t out of her was one thing. Grace bit her lower lip, trying to resist: that was the devil's temptation, a test for her to pass in order to become what you may call a good girl. Was she going to pass the test? Yes. Was she going to resist? Yes.
She reached the bed in three long steps, then jumped and landed right on her friend's back! She pushed down on her with all her might, while a just-awoke Hannah tried to understand what in the world was going on.
"What the...? Grace?!"
"It's comeback time," Grace sentenced, and SMACKed down on her friend's panty-clad bottom.
"Ouch!" Hannah protested. "What's on your mind?!"
"Take a guess."
SMACK! SPANK! WHACK!
"No! Just you wait!"
"You did not wait."
SPANK! WHAP! SPANK!
Hannah was frantic: "You asked it yourself, for god's sake!"
"Oh, and you didn't hesitate a bit, did you?"
SPANK! WHACK! WHAP! SPANK! SPANK!
"Oh, God, please!"
But there was no talking out of it. Hannah Rayburn, twelve years old, found herself pinned down on her own bed, her best friend spanking a fiery fire into her buttocks. Could there be anything worse? Actually, yes: her panties could be coming down, and that's just what it happened.
SPANK! SPANK! WHACK! SPANK! WHAP! CRACK!!
Grace hit fast and mighty, no sparing strength, hitting the target again and again as if she was beating an old drum. Or as if a painter, maybe, trying to picture the other child's ass red. Too bad she ran out of any other colour. Oh, red will do.
WHAP! CRACK!! WHACK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! WHACK! SPANK! WHAP! CRACK!!
"Bwaaa! No, Grace! Aaahiiaa!!"
She spanked her alright, alternating cheeks and also lower, where you sit down, caring not to leave her thighs un-spanked. Were hers? No. Nor would Hannah's be, then.
SPANK! SPANK! WHACK! SPANK! WHAP! CRACK!! WHAP! CRACK!! WHACK!
Hannah cried in her pillow now, for there was no stopping Grace. Nothing could stop her, not even someone rushing in to check what those wails were. Not even that.
On second thought...
The door slammed open. Spanks and wails and everything else stopped dead. A bewildered woman in her forties, The Parent Formerly Known As Hannah's Mother, stood in the threshold speechless and motionless. Two little girls of twelve, both half naked, did just the same. The air was so cold you could cave some thousand ice cubes for some thousand drinks.
Then it all broke down, as if an enchantment had been broken.
Grace said: "It's not like it seems."
Hannah said. "I can explain everything."
If it wasn't tragic, it would be fun. Mrs. Rayburn waved a finger in a menacing way, and acted as though she wanted to say something... but just couldn't.
Truth is no words were needed. Things had reached a point where only action could do the talking.
* * *
Half a hour later there was nothing more to talk about.
Two twelve-year-olds, now both completely nude as the day they were born, stood against the room's wall, their heads bent low, crying in earnest, the reddest bottom you can imagine, almost a glowing globe shining its own light. Some even redder stripes were distinguishable, unmistakable sign of a sound leather-belt whipping, and there were also handprints, sign of a hell, and I mean a hell of a spanking. The two bottoms alternated between a rosy/peachy tone in the upper part, where the back started, a cucumber red one in the centre and again a rosier one on the lower portions, where buttocks faded into thighs.
"It's not how it seems…", Hannah whispered between the tears, mimicking her friend. "You idiot!"
"Oh, shut up!" said Grace, she too in an undertone. They did not dare speak aloud, afraid of even worse consequences. And they both knew the Rayburns enough to know that if they didn't behave perfectly, that could have been just a warm-up.
Thing is, it was just a warm-up, no matter what.
Little Hannah and Grace knew not of Hannah's father's utter disappointment. Imagine a wealthy, strong man who, as he wakes up, knows of such a misdeed. Well, that man stormed in the room and applied another good dose of the belt to two already well-strapped bottom, until her wife – and not, I repeat, not the kids' wails – convinced him they had had enough.
That morning, the state of Grace's bottom, and Hannah's as well, was not something you want to see to start a day off. But a precious lesson had been learned: do not mess up with kids' jobs and parents' jobs, because if parents don't feel the need to spank you, you DO NOT want to take their place just because.