Tit for Tat 1 to 3

By Rick1463

rick1463@yahoo.com.mx
Copyright 2018 by Rick1463, all rights reserved

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Tit for Tat - Chapter 1: A girl overheard
 
 
 
My earliest memory of overhearing one of Billie's spankings goes back to when we were ten years old.
 
Billie and I had been neighbors since forever, but I had never overheard one of her spankings before. It came as no surprise to me, though, when it happened. At that age, all kids in town were still getting spanked at home. Plus, I'd heard mom and Billie's mom talk about our spankings, so I already knew for sure that Billie was spanked every now and then, just as I was. Overhearing a spanking in progress, though, is so much different than just knowing.
 
That day I'd been in the kitchen, doing who knows what. The kitchen window was open, so that's when I heard it, as clear as day - the familiar smack, smack, smack of a spanking hand busy at work, along with the voice of my neighbor and classmate, Billie Baker, crying her eyes out.
 
I walked out of my house and followed the sounds toward the Bakers' living room window, which was halfway open. I approached carefully and ventured a quick glance inside. Unfortunately, the spanking was taking place on a sofa with its back to the window, so I was only able to see the back of Ms. Baker's head, but none of the action. Nevertheless, the sound was absolutely thrilling for a ten-year-old kid like me.
 
When the spanking ended, I heard Ms. Baker send Billie to her room. I hurried back into my house, took a deep breath and tried to process the whole thing. The thrill was so overpowering that I could not even be sure that it was a purely pleasant sensation. The experience had been exciting, that's for sure, but shouldn’t I also feel a little sorry for Billie? I mean, she'd always been nice to me and everything. So, was it ok to enjoy hearing her get it? And should I actually tell her that I had overheard it? Just the thought of admitting it was more than enough to worry me.
 
‘You worry too much, Leaf Lawson,’ would become one of Billie's favorite lines, often followed by her hand tussling my dark-blonde hair.
 
Anyway, it turned out that I did not have to wrestle with such thoughts for too long. The very next day, I was walking home from school when Billie caught up to me and flat-out asked me if I'd overheard any weird sounds coming from her house during the previous afternoon.
 
"Uh, weird sounds? No, no, no, no, I didn't hear anything, nothing weird at all. Nothing at all, nope," was sort of what I blabbered and repeatedly shook my head to emphasize my answer, even as we continued walking down the sidewalk, side by side.
 
Billie chuckled. "You heard it, didn't you? It's ok, everyone gets it sometimes, right?"
 
I was astonished at the casual tone with which she was talking about it. We were talking about spankings, right? "Huh? I, uh... I don't know what you mean," I said.
 
"I mean spankings," she said. "All kids get spanked sometimes, right? At least in this town, they do."
 
"Oh, uh, sure, I guess."
 
 
 
"So, what did you think?" she said, her eyes looking sideways as she brushed back a lock of her pretty brown hair. She was finally looking a little shy.
 
"Um, what do you mean?"
 
"About the spanking. Did it... did it sound as bad as when you get it?"
 
"Oh, I... I guess so. Kind of the same, yeah," I said. I could feel my face becoming warm. Incredible as it sounded, I was now talking about my own spankings, too! And discussing them with a girl, no less. It was surreal.
 
"Did you see anything?" she said.
 
"What? No, no, no, I just heard it, I promise!"
 
"Ok, I believe you," she said and then smiled. "So, did you like it?"
 
I turned to face her, open mouthed. I didn't know how to answer that. I wasn't even sure if my brain was understanding the question. She couldn't possibly have just asked me if I had liked overhearing her spanking, could she?
 
"Did you like hearing when I was getting it?" she said, as if realizing that I was having trouble understanding.
 
"W-what? No!" I finally said. "No, of course not, ‘cause... I mean, ‘cause spankings hurt, right?"
 
"You didn't like it? Really?" she said. "Because I kind of like to hear when someone else gets it."
 
My mind was blowing up. "You do?"
 
"Yeah," she said, covering her face with both hands and then uncovering it to reveal what I can only call a naughty smile, as if she was still letting me in on a naughty secret. "So I guess it's ok if you liked it."
 
"You mean... you have heard other kids getting it?"
 
"Well, I've watched my sister get it, obviously, lots of times," she said. Her sister, Jodie, was fourteen at the time. It was shocking for ten-year-old-me to learn that she was still spanked at that age. "And I've watched my cousins get it, too. And some of my friends."
 
"You've watched?" I said. To me, it was incredible even to overhear a spanking happening, let alone getting to watch one. "Are they girls? I mean, the cousins and friends you've watched?"
 
"Yeah. Well, except for my cousin Jericho. He's only six, though," she said with a shrug, as if this fact decreased the value of the experience.
 
"Wow," I half-whispered.
 
"Some of them have watched me get it, too," she said.
 
"Really? Is that... I mean, it must be embarrassing."
 
"A little, I guess," she said, shrugging again. "Not Jericho, though. He’s never watched or heard me getting it. So that means you're the first boy who's ever heard me get it."
 
"Oh," I said. "I’m sorry. I didn't mean to."
 
"I always get spanked in my bedroom," she said, ignoring my apology. "But mom was in a hurry yesterday, so she just spanked me on the spot. Which meant right there in the living room."
 
"Oh," I said. It meant that I would probably not get to overhear any more spankings any time soon. "I, uh... I get it in my bedroom, too," I said, feeling like I had to disclose some private information of my own to reciprocate. You know, tit for tat.
 
"Who spanks you?" she said. "I always get it from mom. Dad never spanks me."
 
"Same here," I said. "It's always mom."
 
Then she smiled again, tilted her head to one side and looked at me in a funny way. "I bet you're a real crybaby when you're getting it, aren't you?"
 
"What?" I said. It was yet another surprising thing to hear from her, but this one also pissed me off a little - as much as ten-year-olds can get pissed when getting teased by their peers, anyway. "I... I am not! In fact, you should talk. You were pretty loud yesterday, you know?"
 
She giggled. "Yeah, you're right. I am a crybaby! But you should hear Jodie getting it, though. She really gives a show! That's what mom always says to her, when they're talking about her spankings. I think mom likes to tease her."
 
"I don't have brothers or sisters," I said. "And I don't see my cousins a lot. So I'd never seen or heard anyone get it, before."
 
"So that means I'm your first, too." she said.
 
"Huh?"
 
"You're the first boy who gets to hear me get it, remember? And I'm the first girl that you get to hear getting it."
 
"Oh," I said. "Is that... is that a bad thing, or...?"
 
"Well...” she said, narrowing her eyes as if thinking it over. “Jodie says that her first kiss will be special. And last month, mom baked her first apple pie when dad's baseball team won, because she said it was a special occasion. So I guess that first times are special sometimes. Which means that it's a good thing, I guess."
 
"Oh," I said. "I've seen your dad wearing a baseball uniform. So he's a baseball player, then?"
 
"He does it for fun. It's not his real job, he just plays in a local league."
 
"Oh," I said. "That's cool."
 
"Yeah," she said. "I want to play, too. Dad says I can join a softball junior league when summer starts."
 
"Cool," I said. "Maybe I can watch you play some time."
 
"Yeah," she said. "Even though you'd rather watch me get spanked, wouldn't you?"
 
"What? N-no, I..."
 
She stepped in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. Then she pointed a finger at me, which kind of scared me a little. "Tell the truth, Leaf Lawson, if you want to be awesome. Don’t be a liar, liar, pants on fire 'cause your mom's hand will never tire! Now tell the truth: Did you like it or not?"
 
It took me a few seconds to collect myself. I had to repeat, in my mind, what she had just said. I was only sure that it sort of rhymed. In the meantime, she just remained standing there, pointing her finger at me with a theatrically accusatory look on her face. "Uh, what? You mean the rhyme? Did I... did I like your rhyme?" I finally said.
 
"Did you like hearing when I was getting it," she said.
 
"Oh," I said. "Ok, I did, all right? I liked it. I really, really liked it," I said.
 
She withdrew her finger and smiled. "Ok. Now you've told the truth. So you’re allowed to watch me play softball some time." she said. Then she quickly turned around and started running in the direction of both our homes, holding her backpack with both hands.
 
I just stood there like an idiot for a moment, wondering what that last part had been about. Then I started to wonder what all of it had been about. And then I started walking home, feeling like something vaguely important had just happened. Maybe. Or maybe not.
 
I told myself that girls are silly and often incomprehensibly silly. Nothing new there, I'd known that for years. So that was it, then – nothing but a silly girl saying silly stuff. Which meant that, even if we'd talked about an embarrassing topic like spankings, it was probably no big deal in the long run. Just two kids discussing embarrassing stuff because one of them chanced upon the other during an embarrassing situation. In fact, I'd probably never talk to her again, save for the occasional greeting at school. Small talk and stuff like that.
 
So why did I feel so much like smiling?
 
 
 
To be continued...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Tit for Tat - Chapter 2: A boy on a mission
 
 
 
I was a nervous wreck when I saw Billie at school the following day, my face warming up the moment I spotted her. I chastised myself for feeling like that - why should I feel embarrassed, anyway? It was she who got spanked. It was her spanking that was overheard, not one of mine. So, it was she who should be blushing, not me (‘It’s not fair’ cried my inner crybaby). Instead, she waved hello at me with a big smile, not looking embarrassed in the slightest. I waved back, knowing that I was probably blushing, and she could probably see it.
 
Later that day, she approached me in the classroom and I felt my stomach tighten. I was sure that she was going to say something about our conversation from the day before. Our insane conversation about spankings, that is. But she just asked me something about history class or history homework or something. I was so nervous that I couldn't think straight. I mumbled some sort of hurried response, she said thanks and walked away. Just like that, as if nothing unusual had ever happened between us.
 
And then I remembered my own soothing thoughts from the day before, the ones arguing that our unusual conversation did not have to be a big deal at all. It had probably been a one-and-done thing. Billie's ordinary behavior just helped to prove it, it was clear that she didn't think it was a big deal. In fact, she had probably already forgotten about it, and I should do the same. It was never going to happen again, in all likelihood, so I should just move on. There were probably more than enough of my own spankings in the future to be concerned about, anyway.
 
But I couldn't keep it out of my mind.
 
For the following days, when in school, my eyes kept searching and finding Billie. Sometimes I even took a discreet glance at her little round bottom and tried to picture it bare and red after a thorough spanking. At home I thought about it, too. I kept finding excuses to walk near the kitchen window or even to step outside for a moment, keeping my ears open for any unusual sounds coming from the Bakers' house. But no sound came.
 
A week passed. I started to feel as if my obsession was finally dwindling. Other worries had started to come up, like the math test results, for instance. Fortunately, it turned out that I had aced the test! When I got home, I showed it to mom, who tussled my hair as she congratulated me. There's always been something about my dark-blonde hair that makes people want to tussle it. I don't mind, but sometimes it amazes me to see how often it happens.
 
So, I was quite happy that afternoon. I lay on my bed and read a book for a while - a science-fiction book, probably. I had been reading it for about half an hour when someone rapped on my window. I stood up in a flash. Then I carefully pulled the curtains aside to discover Billie's smiling face behind the window. She waved at me.
 
I opened the window. "Hey," I said.
 
"Hey," she said.
 
"Uh, do you need something?"
 
"I just came to tell you that you should be outside my bedroom window at eight."
 
"What?" I said. "Why?"
 
"'Cause I got a C on the test."
 
I didn't understand. I said nothing as I tried to think about what she was saying.
 
"Maybe it won't happen exactly at eight. Maybe you'll have to wait for a little bit."
 
"Wait for what?"
 
Then she made a face that mixed a twisted smile and a painful grimace. I wondered if the face was supposed to answer my question.
 
"Don't be seen, ok?" she said, lowering her voice almost to a whisper. Then she turned around in a flash and ran back home.
 
I just stood there for a second, my mind in a blank. Then I stuck my head out of the window, looking right and left, making sure that our conversation could not have been overheard by anyone nearby. I closed the window and sat on my bed, considering Billie's message. My mind raced through her words, again and again, until I felt sure that there could be no other meaning. She was definitely inviting me to overhear a spanking. A spanking that she was about to get.
 
My heart started racing. Holy crap! Not only was I going to get to overhear another of Billie's spankings, but this time she had actually invited me to overhear it. This was insane! Why would anyone do that? It was embarrassing enough to receive a spanking, but to also have someone else overhear it? It was crazy. It was inexplicable.
 
It was also awesome.
 
Why was she doing this? I could not even begin to imagine a reason, so I would have to ask her directly if I wanted an answer. For the moment, though, I needed to focus on keeping the appointment, which meant that I had to plan and think of everything. What were the risks? It would be of great help that both Billie's house and mine had their back to a large, open field, beyond which was nothing but the woods. Both my bedroom and Billie's were located at the back of our houses, so I would be sitting in the field and no one would be there to see me. Still, ten-year-old me had watched too many action movies to know that it would be unwise to go on a mission unprepared for the unexpected. The stakes were too big. I needed to gear up.
 
And that is how, at fifteen minutes before eight, I sneaked out of my house through the front door wearing black pants, a black t-shirt and (sigh) sunglasses. I was also carrying my school backpack, filled with stuff I thought might be useful. And I was barefoot. A regular ten-year-old secret agent, that was me.
 
The street was empty. The sun was down. A couple of streets away, a car cruised lazily by. So far, so good.
 
"Stop it," I whispered to the mission: impossible theme song stubbornly running in my head. This was no time for silliness. This was important, dammit.
 
I started making my way through the grassy corridor that separated Billie's house from mine. "Ow," I cried in a whispered tone as I stepped on a small, pointy rock. Going barefoot was supposed to help me move even more quietly, but it was dawning on me that it might have been a tactical mistake. No time to go back and fix it, though.
 
The Bakers' windows were dark, but I couldn't tell if there were people near them, so I crawled under the two windows that stood in my way to the back of the house. Then, when I was crawling under the second window, someone turned on the light inside and I heard a voice. I let myself fall and hugged the ground, hoping that my dark clothing would allow me to go unnoticed. My heart started racing again. The voice had probably been someone calling to me, which meant that I had been caught! This whole thing had been foolish, I should have known it was too good to be true. Now I was a dead man.
 
But the voice kept on talking and I started to understand the words. It was Jodie, Billie's fourteen-year-old sister, talking to someone else. The pauses in her speech made me realize that she was talking on the phone... which meant that she wasn't talking to me after all... which meant that I hadn't been made... which meant that the mission was still a go!
 
Like some sort of human-sized bug, I crawled the rest of the way to the back of the house with surprising speed. Then I turned the corner and crawled some more until I was right under Billie's bedroom window, which, I noticed, had been left open just a crack - a fact that was well hidden from anyone on the inside, by Billie's thick curtains. The curtains also meant that I would not get any chance of peeking.
 
I sat under the window, trying to collect myself and catch my breath. The grassy field in front of me was as dark and silent as ever, disturbed by nothing but the sound of a handful of crickets. I checked my watch: Nine minutes before 'S' time.
 
I opened my backpack and made a quick inventory. Flashlight, check. Camouflage blanket, check. Map and compass, check. First aid kit, check. Matches, check. Bottled water, check. Lollipop, check. Three Musketeers bar, check.
 
I took off the sunglasses and put them in the backpack. I couldn't see a thing with them on. Then I unwrapped the candy bar and started eating it. Who knew if I was going to need the extra energy for a quick escape? As I worked on the candy bar, I started thinking of Billie. Girls had always been mystifying to me, but Billie was on a whole new level. I'd always liked her, though. She was nice, and she was funny. She was kind of pretty, too, in her tomboyish kind of way. Did that matter to me, that she was pretty? Ten-year-old me had never had a crush or even thought of girls that way.
 
Then I started thinking about spankings. They hurt - that was the first thing that I was sure about. And I was sure that I hated receiving them, of course. Although, to be honest, I was kind of used to them by then. I was getting spanked about once or twice a month at that age, I believe, which was kind of a common frequency for kids in our town. Spankings had always been bad news to me, but I had never thought about this new, strangely alluring combination: Spankings and a pretty girl. Spankings of a pretty girl. It was a powerful new concept to me. The thought of it made me feel... eager, I guess. Intrigued, stimulated, awake. I could feel the restlessness crawling across my skin.
 
And then the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles theme song started playing, startling me out of my wits. "Crap, crap, crap!" I said as I fumbled to turn off the alarm on my Ninja Turtles watch. Had I actually been stupid enough to set an alarm for ‘S’ time? What was I thinking? When I had finally managed to turn the freaking thing off, I remained completely still, awaiting any sign that my presence had been revealed, but nothing happened. A moment later, I allowed myself to take a deep breath. It seemed that my luck was still holding.
 
I hurried to finish my candy bar and put the wrapper in my backpack. One minute past eight. Billie said that I might have to 'wait for a little bit', so that's what I did. As I sat there, waiting in the dark, a collage of images ran through my mind, most of them related to Billie, to spankings, or to both. Billie's face. Billie's little round butt covered by tight jeans. Billie waving at me. The sight of the floor near my face as I lay over mom's lap, waiting for a spanking to begin. The sight of my own tears falling on the floor, as mom gives it to me nice and hard. The sight of my math test, with a red A on it. This image then blurred and turned into Billie's math test, with her name and a red C on it.
 
Wait a minute... a C? That's what Billie had said, she got a C on the test. So she was going to get it on account of a C? Mom only spanks me for F's. She doesn't even spank me for D's, let alone C's. Wow, Ms. Baker sure was strict.
 
That was my train of thought when the lights came on in Billie's bedroom. This was it! I felt my whole body go rigid with anticipation. Someone started to speak, I couldn't make out the words, but I soon realized that it was definitely Ms. Baker talking.
 
Then, a moment of silence.
 
And then, smack, smack, smack - the spanking had begun! At first, Billie cried out with each smack - ow! ow! ow! And then, a little later, she started saying most of the things that I also say during a spanking: She's sorry, she'll do better, she'll study real hard, yadda, yadda, yadda. Ms. Baker kept at it with a steady rhythm. It sounded as if she spanked just as hard as mom (which was pretty hard, in my ten-year-old opinion). Then, Billie stopped saying stuff and just started bawling non-stop. She was even louder than I remembered from the first time I heard her getting it, a week before.
 
All through the spanking, a whirlpool of sensations raged within me. I was now finally, completely sure that I liked this. Oh boy, did I like it! And I felt a little guilty for liking it - really, I did. But the guilt did not make me enjoy it any less! I wanted for the spanking to keep going, and I wanted for Billie to keep crying. I could picture her crying face. I could picture her bare bottom, reddening up. I could imagine (of course I could) just how much her bottom must sting at that moment. And I realized that I must be a real jerk because I wanted it to sting, I wanted it to sting bad! So maybe I was not as good a person as I thought I was, but I didn't care at the moment. I closed my eyes, enraptured, letting myself focus entirely on the painful melody coming from the room.
 
And then, a funny little thing happened. Breaking the uniformity of her spanking technique, Ms. Baker connected a single extra-hard smack, seemingly for the hell of it, after which she resumed smacking with the previous force level, never losing cadence. When this single extra-hard smack connected, Billie let out a funny yelp that was a little bit louder and a little bit more pathetic than the howls she'd been delighting me with so far. A yelp that was as pitiful as it was comical.
 
The moment I heard this yelp, I automatically went: "Ha, ha!" Then I immediately covered my mouth with both hands. Thankfully, the spanking kept on going, which meant that I had not been heard. But this laugh worried me a little. I'd always thought I was a very good person, but now I was not only delighting in hearing a girl get spanked, I was also laughing about it! This was, I reasoned, the exact thing that villains did in movies and cartoons, they laugh at the pain of others. There could only be one conclusion from this: I was an evil jerk!
 
This revelation came a few seconds before the spanking finally ended. I say 'finally' because it had seemed like an eternity to me, although it must have actually lasted no more than a minute or so. Then I heard Ms. Baker talk some more -I still couldn't make out the words- while Billie kept on bawling. After that, I heard a door shut close, which I assumed to be Ms. Baker exiting the room. And then I remained sitting there, listening to Billie cry some more. She kept at it for a little while and I just sat there and listened.
 
When Billie's crying had died down, I heard the ruffle of curtains and Billie's voice calling my name in a whisper. I stood up and met Billie's tearful face staring at me through the crack on the window. She opened it a little bit more.
 
"Hi," I whispered.
 
"Hi," she whispered back between sniffles. "Did you hear all of it?"
 
"Yes," I said. "Does it sting bad?"
 
"Oh, yeah," she said, then sniffled and wiped a tear from her eye. "It stings real bad!" she said, following with a giggle.
 
"I'm an evil jerk," I said.
 
"What?"
 
"’Cause I liked hearing it, you know? I even laughed a little bit. I'm sorry!"
 
She giggled again. "That's ok. I'm glad you liked it."
 
"But... it's not ok to like it. I'm a like a movie villain."
 
"I don't think you're evil," she said. "Besides, that's why I asked you to come. ‘Cause I thought you would like it."
 
"Thanks," I said. Then I rummaged through my backpack and brought out the lollipop. "Here," I said, handing it to her.
 
She took it and her smile grew. "What's this for?"
 
I shrugged. "It's just... I don't know, Doctor Warren gives me one every time I get a shot. I hate shots, so she gives me a lollipop to make me feel better. It's silly, I guess, but it also kind of works sometimes."
 
"Yeah," she said. "I think it’s working now. And I hate shots, too!"
 
I chuckled. "Who doesn't, right?"
 
"You wanna talk tomorrow?"
 
"What?"
 
"Let's get together after school and talk."
 
"Talk about what?"
 
"Spankings. You want to?"
 
"Oh. Sure.”
 
"Ok."
 
"Ok."
 
"Uh, I guess I should get going, then. I, uh... I hope your butt stops stinging soon."
 
She chuckled. "No, you don't," And then she made her no-nonsense theatrical face. "Tell the truth, Leaf Lawson, if you want to be-"
 
"Ok, ok, geez," I said, cutting her off. "You don't have to say the whole magic rhyme. All right, uh, I hope... I hope your butt stings for a little while longer. That’s the truth."
 
She smiled again. "Yes, that’s the truth."
 
"Why do I hope for that?" I said, as if she could know me better than I know myself.
 
She shrugged. "I don't know. But I don't mind. Why is my rhyme magic?
 
"Huh?"
 
"You said that I don't have to say 'the whole magic rhyme'. Why is it magic?"
 
"Well... it's worked so far, right?"
 
She nodded. "Right."
 
"It's getting chilly. I should get going."
 
"Yeah. Thanks for coming."
 
"You shouldn't thank me. It was me who got something out of it, not you."
 
"Yeah. Maybe. Goodnight, then."
 
"Goodnight," I said. Then she closed the window and I crawled my way back home.
 
Once in bed, I couldn't bring myself to sleep. I kept going through the whole experience over and over in my mind. And I was eager to talk to her about it the following day. I realized that I was not feeling so embarrassed about the subject anymore. I wanted to talk about it. I wanted to keep this insanity alive. Or was it insanity? Maybe it was just uncommon, for a young boy and a young girl to share their most private and embarrassing experiences. I closed my eyes. The memory of Billie crying her eyes out lulled me to sleep.
 
 
 
 
 
To be continued...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Tit for Tat - Chapter 3: A place to talk
 
 
 
The next morning, I couldn't wait for the school day to be over, so Billie and I could talk, as she'd suggested the day before.
 
In the classroom, my eyes kept darting in her direction. When she noticed that I was looking at her, she just smiled at me, but we didn't talk to each other, not until after school. Later, when I was walking home, Billie caught up to me, just as she’d done that day the week before, when all of this had started.
 
"Hey, Leaf," she said.
 
"Hey," I said, even as we kept on walking.
 
"Have you ever seen Ms. Miller so angry? Jane is in real trouble, for sure,"
 
She was talking about English class, earlier that day, when Jane Johnson had had an argument with Ms. Miller. I couldn't remember what it had been about, but I could definitely remember Ms. Miller’s anger. "Yeah, Ms. Miller was furious."
 
"I just talked to Jane a minute ago,” Billie said. “She was awfully worried! She said that Ms. Miller had called her mom. And you know what that means."
 
"Uh, what does it mean?"
 
"Seriously? What do you think would happen to you or me in her place?"
 
I didn't have to think about it too hard. "We'd get spanked," I said. When I said the word, I noticed that I’d seemingly lost my timidity regarding the subject. I'd probably feel embarrassed talking about spankings with anyone else, but not with Billie. Not anymore.
 
"Elementally, dear Watson," she said, gesturing with her hands as if it was obvious.
 
"'Elementary', I said.
 
"What?"
 
"You said 'elementally'. It's 'elementary'. Never mind, so you're saying that Jane Johnson gets spanked as much as you and me, then?"
 
"Oh, yeah. She gets it a lot," Billie said. "Most of the girls do. Girls in the fifth grade, anyway. How about the boys?"
 
"Uh, I guess they kind of do, too," I said.
 
"They kind of do? You're going to have to do better than that, Leaf," she said. "When we talk this afternoon."
 
I was starting to wonder if she was going to bring up the 'talk' or if she'd forgotten all about it. I was glad that she mentioned it. "So we're going to talk about our friends, then?"
 
She shrugged. "We can talk about anything. But that's something I'd like to know more about."
 
"Ok."
 
"Let's meet at six," she said.
 
"Ok. Uh, where?"
 
"At the back of our houses. Bring your bike."
 
"Where are we going?"
 
"To a private place," she said. "'Cause we're having a private talk, right?"
 
"Right."
 
"Ok, see you later!" she said and sprinted home, leaving me behind. I was starting to get used to that, too.
 
During the rest of the walk home, I thought about Jane Johnson and the fact that she was going to get spanked later that day. The thought was a little exciting, even if I wouldn't to get to overhear it like I had with Billie's spankings. I'd always guessed that most girls in class were probably spanked as much as I was, but I never imagined that I'd ever learn anything specific about it. I've heard other boys talk about their own spankings, when there were no girls around to hear us, but to hear about a girl’s spankings? That had been unthinkable to me, at least before this thing with Billie started. So I pictured good old Jane Johnson's crying face and her bottom turning red, as her mom spanked the daylights out of her. It brought a smile to my face.
 
*
 
At six sharp, I met Billie at the back of our houses. We had brought our bikes. She just smiled at me, said nothing, and started riding. I followed her, wondering where she was leading me to.
 
We rode around half the town, following its perimeter until we hit the coastline. Little Shore is a coastal town, although we don't do much with our coast, really. There's not much of a beach to speak of, so tourism is nonexistent. Some people do a little fishing every now and then, and that's it. I guess we're what some people would call a picturesque small town: Even if there's nothing to do, it at least looks pretty.
 
Billie made a turn to follow the coastline away from town and down a narrow dirt road. I was starting to get a little worried: How far were we going to go? I had never ridden my bike out of sight of town. In a couple of minutes, the woods around us started becoming heavier. Then we made another slight turn, this time toward the coast, and I wondered if Billie knew what she was doing or if we were at risk of falling off a cliff hidden among the trees or something. But then I realized that she was following a new, smaller dirt road, which branched out from the one we'd been on, although it was so unkempt that you wouldn't have noticed its existence unless you knew it was there. The new road sloped down on a curve, and then, a little further along, I spotted a very small house, which I came to realize was some kind of boathouse. Despite its secluded location, it appeared to be in good shape. When we reached the boathouse, we climbed off our bikes and Billie turned to look at me with a smile.
 
"Wow," I said. "What is this place?"
 
"It's our boathouse," she said. "Ta-da!"
 
"You have a boathouse?" I said. "Your family has a boat?"
 
"No," she said and chuckled. "It was my great uncle's boathouse. Dad inherited it. But dad's not interested in boats at all, so we just use it for storage. And now we can use it for private talks," she said, after which she covered her face with both hands and then uncovered it to show me her naughty face.
 
She pulled a key from her pocket and unlocked the only door. We walked in. The interior seemed larger than it looked from the outside, but there were lots of boxes and stuff lying around, so it still felt a little cramped. The place consisted of only two rooms: The large room that was currently being used as a storage room and an adjacent room where a boat was supposed to go (although there was no boat in it at the time), both connected through a closed door. The storage room (I guess that's what I'll call it) featured two large windows that looked to the sea, showering the room with soft light. We sat on a couple of boxes right next to these windows, facing each other. I could hear the murmur of the sea and I could see it, too. At the moment, though, the only thing that I wanted to look at was the brown-haired girl sitting in front of me.
 
"Ok," she said, rubbing her thighs with both hands. "We're in a private place now. So we can talk about private stuff."
 
"Ok," I said. "What do you want to talk about?"
 
"Well... how about we start with what we already started with?"
 
"Which is?"
 
"My spankings,"
 
"Oh. We've already started talking about your spankings?"
 
"Well, yeah, because you've heard them happening, right? It's what got us started on... on talking about private stuff."
 
"Oh. Right."
 
"Ok. So what else do you wanna know about my spankings?"
 
"Well, I... I guess I already know most of it."
 
Billie snorted. "Are you kidding? You've just heard it happening, but you haven't watched it happen. Don't tell me there's nothing more you'd like to know, other than the way it sounds."
 
"Oh, how about... how about your clothes? I mean, um, do you get it bare?"
 
"Yeah, always," she said.
 
"Ok, and... does your mom use anything to spank you with?"
 
"Nope, just her hand. It's always been more than enough, though, as you might have noticed," she said and giggled.
 
I chuckled. "Yeah."
 
After a moment of silence, Billie lifted her eyebrows. "That's it? That's all you want to know?"
 
"Uh, for the moment, I guess," I said. I was at a loss about what else to ask. I was becoming a little nervous again and it might have been clouding my mind a little.
 
She chuckled. "Ok, you can ask more questions later if you want to. Now it's my turn. How often do you get spanked?"
 
"Um... once or twice a month, I guess."
 
"Really? You're a lucky boy. I get it once or twice a week."
 
My jaw dropped. "What? That's a lot," Sure, I knew that she'd just been spanked in consecutive weeks, but I’d thought it must've been a fluke, because of the timing of the test results.
 
"Well, I guess, yeah. I mean, not many girls in school get spanked that often."
 
"Not many? You mean that some do?"
 
"A few girls, sure. Ok, next question: What kind of stuff do you get spanked for?"
 
"Oh, well... I guess it mostly happens when I don't do stuff I'm supposed to do. Like, chores, you know? Something that mom had asked me to do and I didn’t do."
 
"But how about when you do stuff you're not supposed to do?"
 
"Like... what kind of stuff?"
 
She shrugged. "Swearing. Arguing with your parents. Going places you're not supposed to go to. Using stuff you're not supposed to use. You know... doing anything you're not supposed to."
 
"Uh, I don't think I ever do any of those things..."
 
She blinked. "Are you kidding? Wow, you're such a good boy."
 
"Uh, thanks."
 
"Ok, next question: Do you beg your mom not to spank you when she says you’re going to get it?"
 
"Uh, no," I said. "I mean... I guess I give it a little try, you know? Maybe I say something like, 'no, mom, please, I'll do it now'. It never works, though. But that’s it, I just go along with it after that. Um, what about you?"
 
"Well, when mom makes up her mind to spank me, it is definitely going to happen, no matter what, so I don’t even try, I just along with it from the start. You should hear Jodie, though. She begs so much when she's going to get it. It never works, too, but she still begs every time. It’s so funny to hear!" she said and giggled.
 
I giggled a little, too. I pictured Jodie -a fourteen-year-old teenage girl- begging her mom not to spank her and I thought it was definitely a funny image.
 
"Ok, next question,” she said. “Do you pull down your own pants and undies, or does your mom do it for you?"
 
"Uh, well... I do it myself," I said. I realized that she was assuming that I got it on the bare. But I always did get it on the bare, so it had been a correct assumption.
 
"And she can see your willy when you pull them down," she said and giggled. "Is that embarrassing?"
 
"Um... a little, I guess," I said, feeling my face grow warm. "What about you? Does your mom do it or do you?"
 
"I pull them down myself, too."
 
"Oh. Uh, what about Jodie?" I said, not really sure if it was ok to keep asking questions regarding her big sister, but I wanted to try.
 
"Mom has to do it. Jodie's too busy begging and crying to do it herself, she's such a crybaby! I mean, I’m kind of a crybaby too, right? But not as much as Jodie.”
 
I giggled in response. I realized that I was having a lot of fun with this conversation.
 
“How about you?” she said. “Are you a big crybaby when you're getting it?"
 
"Well, I... I guess everyone cries when they're getting it, right?"
 
“Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes but keeping her smile. "But I mean, do you cry really, really hard? Like a baby?"
 
"I don't know, I mean... I guess I cry as hard as you do," I said, remembering the sound of her crying.
 
"That mean that you are a crybaby, just like me!"
 
"I guess so," I said and we both giggled. "Listen, uh, I need to pee."
 
"Oh. There's no bathroom in here, but you can just pee outside."
 
"Ok," I said and walked out of the boathouse.
 
Once outside, I stepped behind a tree that stood a few steps away from the house and relieved myself. It was quite a peaceful area, with no other sound than the ocean waves and the chirping of a bird.
 
As I peed, I thought of what Billie and I were doing, and I realized that I felt a little naughty. I didn't exactly think that we were misbehaving, but we’d still come to some kind of hidden location, in order to have a conversation about stuff that was supposed to be private. But, was a spanking a topic that was supposed to remain private? I mean, no one had ever told me to keep it secret or anything. In fact, I had heard mom discuss my spankings with her friends, much to my embarrassment. Whatever the answer, though, I knew I was liking talking about it with Billie.
 
I finished peeing and walked back to the boathouse. I had taken one step inside when I was startled by the sight of Billie, standing right next to the open door.
 
"Whoa!" I said. "What are you doing?"
 
She giggled. "Nothing. I was just, you know, listening."
 
"What? Did you... did you watch me?"
 
"No, I didn't peek, honest! I just wanted to listen."
 
"To listen to me peeing."
 
"Yeah."
 
"Oh,” I said.
 
" I just... I've never watched a boy peeing, but now I've heard one," she said and hurried back to her seat, next to one of the big windows.
 
I wasn’t sure what to think about what she’d just said and done, so I said nothing and walked back to my own seat.
 
"Ok, I have another question," she said. " What was in your backpack, when you were outside my bedroom last night?"
 
"What? Oh... nothing,” I said with a shrug. “You know, basic stuff for the unexpected. A flashlight, a first-aid kit, a map, a compass, a box of matches. Basic stuff."
 
"What would you need any of that for?"
 
"Well, uh... suppose someone saw me or heard me, right? In that case, I'd have to run away, maybe into the woods, and it was dark. So that means I'd need a flashlight. And the map and compass to find my way back if I’d gone too far into the woods.”
 
“Oh,” she said.
 
“And then suppose I stumbled in the woods and hurt myself, right? In that case, I’d use the first-aid kit. You see?"
 
She chuckled. "Ok, if you say so."
 
Then I noticed that the sun was setting and remembered something. I stood up from my seat in a flash. "Oh, crap!" I said, checking my watch.
 
"What?" she said, standing from her seat as well. "What is it?"
 
"It's seven fifteen. I was supposed to be home at seven, so I could help mom with some stuff she wanted us to do."
 
"Oh," she said. "We should get going, then."
 
We walked out of the boathouse and Billie locked the door. Then we rode back to town, as fast as we could go. Some minutes later, we were climbing off our bikes at the back of my house.
 
"I, uh... I liked our talk," I said.
 
"Yeah, me too. We should do it again," she said. "Hey, are you gonna get it?"
 
"Huh?"
 
"I mean, because you’re back home late. Is your mom going to spank you for it?"
 
I had already been considering it in our way back. "Yeah, I think she will," I said with a grimace.
 
Her smile grew as wide as I'd ever seen it. "Great! So it's my turn to hear you getting it."
 
I said nothing for a second. This, I had not considered. "Uh... yeah, I guess you can..."
 
"Of course I can. Tit for tat, right?" she said. "This is great! Hurry up. And don't forget to open your window a little so I can hear, like I did last night."
 
"Ok," I said. Then I walked around my house and stepped inside.
 
"Leaf, is that you?" mom said from the kitchen. She stepped toward me and gave me the look. And the look told me that Billie was about to get a good show. "Where have you been?"
 
"I, uh... I'm sorry. I just lost track of time."
 
"Yeah? Well, you were supposed to be here a while ago, remember?" she didn't raise her voice. She never did. She let the look do most of the job, Well, that and her hand raining on my butt, of course. "Go to your room. I'll be there in a minute."
 
I dragged my feet to my room. She didn't say it specifically -she rarely did- but it was obvious that she was about to spank me. I opened my window just a crack and showed Billie a thumbs-up, letting her know that it was definitely going to happen. She looked beside herself with glee as she returned my thumbs-up. Then I made sure that the curtains were fully closed. She'd be able to hear everything, but she wouldn't be able to peek.
 
As I was sitting on my bed, waiting for mom, it occurred to me that I should be feeling extremely embarrassed at that moment. I mean, Billie would be able to hear everything! But I was surprised to find that I did not feel embarrassed at all. Maybe it was because I'd already overheard Billie getting it, so this was tit for tat, just as Billie had said. And maybe it was also because I was feeling more comfortable with Billie. I felt like I could trust her, and I felt like she trusted me. Why else would we have shared private information with each other, right? Then I caught myself smiling and I realized that, in a small way, I was actually kind of glad that I was about to get spanked. I would hate getting it, of course, as I always do, but I liked the fact that I was going to give Billie something that she'd enjoy. Don't misunderstand me, though - if it was up to me, I'd definitely choose not to get spanked! But if getting it was already a given, then I liked the fact that my friend would enjoy hearing it.
 
Can you imagine? Smiling boy, sitting on his bed, waiting for his painful spanking - that was me. My world was turning upside-down.
 
Then mom walked into the room and everything happened pretty fast. She scolded me a little, then sat on my bed and instructed me to pull down my own pants and underwear, which I immediately did and hurried to climb across her lap. Then she spanked me for, I don't know, about a minute. And I believe I cried harder than usual, for some reason. Maybe I did it so that Billie would be able to hear me more clearly. But I wasn't faking it, that's for sure. It was more as if I was allowing myself to cry harder. She had been right when she had guessed that I was a crybaby, so now I was simply letting the crybaby in me take the wheel, letting him howl to his heart's content. And boy, was I giving her a show!
 
The next morning, at school, Billie told me that she had very much enjoyed overhearing my spanking and commended me on such a great performance. She also teased me a little about being such a crybaby, but she was clearly saying it in a playful manner, so I just teased her back, reminding her of her own impressive performance. I most definitely did not feel embarrassed about the topic anymore. And I was looking forward to overhearing more of her spankings. And to more private conversations.
 
I was, of course, not looking forward to getting more spankings myself. But, Little Shore being Little Shore, and me and mom and being true Littleshorians, I was sure to keep getting spanked with a decent frequency. Much to Billie's delight.
 
 
 
 
 
To be continued...
 
 
 
 

 



   
   
   
 
 
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