It rained all day the next day. As we walked home from school, both having aced our vocab tests, both under my umbrella, I asked Brygitta if I could come over.
"You're really liking this, aren't you?"
I nodded. I had thought about it last night after I'd woken from the nap and gone home. I didn't like to be spanked, but I liked the feeling afterwards, the warm bottom and hypnotic throbbing and the cuddling. And I had liked spanking little Domka. Being the one in charge, the one with the power, was exhilarating.
She blushed and grinned. "Okay."
Her mother and father were both working when we got to her place, but her aunt was waiting for us upstairs. She looked at us and sighed when we came in. Alenka and Domka were already headed up the stairs, rubbing their bottoms and crying.
Her aunt said something in a resigned tone and Brygitta responded. Then she nudged me. "She's asking if we'll promise not to go outside. She says she's had a tiring day, and she's sick of giving spankings."
"Oh," I said, and it was obvious I was disappointed.
"If you really want," Brygitta said, "I'll spank you."
It was obvious she'd meant it as a joke, but I perked up. "Really?"
"Um…" Brygitta spoke to her aunt who suddenly smiled just a little and responded. "She says that's fine, but…" she blushed. "But you have to spank me too and we have to do it here, in front of her."
I went first. Brygitta sat on the couch and I lay down over her lap, my head resting on a couch pillow. I couldn't help but grin as she took hold of the hem of my dress and pulled it up over my bottom. I couldn't help but shiver as she took hold of the hem of my panties and pulled them down over my bottom to my knees. I couldn't help the warm dampness that stirred deep within as she rested her hand on my bottom.
Turns out, Brygitta was a competent spanker. I squeaked and kicked and cried as her palm slapped my unprotected bottom again and again and again. I had thought I'd be able to weather the spanking stoically, surely Brygitta wouldn't spank me too hard, we were friends after all, and certainly she wouldn't be able to spank as hard as her mom or aunt or grandma. Even so, I squeaked and squirmed, and when she was done, I rubbed my sore bottom and damp cheeks, pouting.
Her aunt said something, and I looked at her to see the woman grinning unabashedly.
Brygitta was standing now and she nudged me. "She says you have to spank me now. But… but you won't spank me too hard, will you? I… I'm sorry for…"
I sat without saying anything and waited, glaring through my tears. She began to tear up before she even laid over my lap, the big baby. I pulled her skirt up and her panties down, just as she'd done for me, but then I hesitated. Because, really, now that we were several moments past, I had liked the spanking, or at least the aftermath. My panties were still down in back and felt hot and… and good against the couch cushions.
But I also really wanted to spank her in return.
Her pale bottom turned pink with the very first spank. I watched in utter fascination as her bottom bounced under my palm, doing my best to memorize every moment, every squeal, every kick, every spank.
When it was done, I was breathing hard and was having a hard time thinking about anything else. Brygitta grabbed my hand and we hurried upstairs to the attic room and onto her top bunk. The little girls were already asleep.
The storm hurled wind and rain so that the room was filled with its sounds. The whole house trembled.
"I'm sorry," Brygitta said, and she kissed my cheek.
I took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm not," I replied, and I kissed her back. She blushed. We huddled together under the blankets, hiding from the storm, warmed by our spankings, and, unashamedly, I rubbed her spanked bottom and she rubbed mine.
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