What Friends are For

My name is Kayla, and I am sixteen years old. I have brown eyes and brown hair. I’m one of those people with a birthday in September, so I’m usually older than everyone in my class. That made it pretty cool to be able to drive my sophomore year when most of my friends couldn’t. 

I work at an old performing arts theater in a relatively small town. We don’t get any real big shows here, concerts from local groups of guys trying to make is big, high school bands and theatre groups, that sort of thing. Sometimes we get what I term, ‘old people’ concerts. These are once famous singers or bands who are now only appealing to people my parent’s age. At these sorts of shows, where most of the clientele are likely to be adults, we sell alcohol. Now of course, being only sixteen, I cannot sell alcohol, so there are adults working theses shows as well. Normally, I’m the one in charge, though never officially unless I’m the only staff member there. However, I know the building and the rules better than anyone, so if there are any questions, I’m the one they’re directed to. 

One of the nights we had an ‘old people’ concert, A friend of mine, Sarah, was with me. Sarah is fifteen, has tanned skin, brown hair and dark eyes. She was wearing a white sleeveless top and jean shorts. She wasn’t working, but we had one of the same classes at school and were planning on studying together during the slow times when no one was likely to want anything from the concession counter and then when the techs were cleaning up after the concert. The adult working with me was an older lady named Lyn. She was pretty nice, had worked with the theatre for several years and had worked with me before.

The concert went smoothly, no crises, no complaining customers. As it was Friday night, I told Lyn that I’d do the locking up. She thanked me and left and I finished cleaning up concession area. I went through the building making sure all the doors were locked except the back doors that the tech crew were using to load all their equipment from stage to trucks and chatted with the guys a bit. I turned off all the unneeded lights and checked the bathrooms to makes sure nothing disgusting had happened. By the time I was through checking things out I was ready to study with Sarah until the crew was done cleaning up then we’d go to my house as she was sleeping over that night. 

When I got back to the main lobby, I found Sarah behind the counter with the concession closet open, and a six-pack of Coors in front of her. Two of the cans were gone and the third was in her hand.

“Sarah, what are you doing?” I hissed at her, not wanting to alert the crew to my anger.

“Just havin a beer Kayla,” she responded displaying the yellow can.

“You can’t do that, you’re only fifteen!” my hiss had raised a bit to a semi-yell.

“Don’t get all bent outta shape, s’not tha big a deal.” 

I could already detect the slurred speech and slightly tipsy manner in which she moved. Quickly I grabbed the can and poured it down the sink fending off Sarah’s attempts to grab it back and slurred protests. Grabbing her wrist I began leading her to the stairs leading to the balcony. 

“Don’t you realize you could get me fired?” I asked sternly. Sarah’s face fell a bit at this, but she didn’t respond. I took us up into the balcony and from there to the projection booth from which we occasionally showed movies. During a movie the projectionist normally has to stay in the booth incase something goes wrong and so, for the comfort of said projectionist, usually me, there was a faded blue couch, a small end table with a lamp, and a pillow and folded blanket resting on the couch. 

“Sit,” I ordered and pushed her lightly towards the couch. Sarah sat and looked up at me.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, “Didn’ mean ta get ya in truble.”

“I’m not in trouble yet, but you are,” I replied “I’ll be right back, don’t mess with anything. I left he projection booth and went to the edge of the balcony, leaning over the railing a bit.

“Hey, Dave,” I hollered down. 

The head tech looked up at me, “Yo,” he responded with a wave.

“I gotta’ take care of some stuff up in the booth, just make sure the doors are closed and I’ll lock up when I’m done.”

“You got it, kid,” he hollered back, giving a half salute with the wrench he held and bending back to his work. 

Quickly I trotted back up to the projection booth, closing the doors firmly behind me. Sarah was standing, looking at the projection equipment, bracing herself on it. 

“Hiya’ Kayla, whaz up?”

Her obvious drunkenness caused my anger to return. I turned the little radio on that I’d put up there for long nights when I was here by myself building film or something. The walls to the projection booth were pretty thick and it was a good distance from the booth to the stage, but I didn’t want to chance any sound getting to the guys on stage. 

“Sarah,” I said, “I’m pissed about this, I can’t believe you’d be so irresponsible.” I’d grabbed her arm and was leading her to the couch.

“Oh gawd. Please Kayla, you sound like my mom.”

I sat on the couch and before she realized it, had her shorts unbuttoned and unzipped revealing her white cotton panties. “Yeah, well your mom never spanked you,” I replied. Sarah made a grab for her shorts once they were at her knees, but I pulled her over my lap.

“Kayla, you can’t do this.”

“Watch me,” I growled. Sarah seemed stunned into silence and didn’t reply.

Spank.

On the first one I kind of hesitated and it ending up being pretty soft, Sarah didn’t respond to it all. 

Spank.

The next one was definitely better, but still got no response. 

Spank. Spank. Spank.

The more I spanked, the easier it got and I developed a sort of rhythm. I spanked her good and hard about ten more times and by the end she was squealing and sniffling at each spank. I released my hold on her and she slid to her knees on the floor. She started rubbing her bottom furiously and looked up at me sadly from a slightly tear stained face. Her shorts were still around her ankles. 

“I don’t see *sniff* why you’re makin such a deal outta this, Kay,” she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. 

Her petulance made me angry all over again, I grabbed her arms and pulled her up over my knees again despite her pleas of “No… I’m sooorryy…” I considered her panty clad bottom as she put her left arm over her bottom in an attempt to protect it, her other arm was pined between the couch and my back. Gripping the wayward arm by the wrist I pinned it to the small of her back and then pulled her panties down with my other hand. Sarah squeaked at this and wriggled some, but her movements were slow and uncoordinated and it was easy to keep her on my lap. 

Spank. Spank. Spank. 

The slaps of my palm on her bare bottom filled the room, and I found myself no longer caring whether or not the tech guys heard. I spanked Sarah as hard as I could. 

Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. 

Finally my hand began to get sore, and I slowed down. Sarah was definitely crying now, squealing ‘ow!’ with every spank. I lost count of how many spanks I gave her, but it was at least thirty. Her bottom was a definite pink. 

Finally, I lifted her off my lap, she wasn’t moving by herself, and stood up. She knelt there, tears running down her face, rubbing her bottom and hiccupping a bit as she cried. As spankings go, it really wasn’t so bad, I’m not much bigger than her and I spank nowhere near as hard as my mama or daddy. It was still Sarah’s first spanking though. 

Feeling slightly sorry for her, but not at all sorry that I’d spanked her, I guided her onto the couch on her belly. I covered her with the blanket and went to check on things in the theatre. 

The road crew was gone, so I locked up and checked through the building one more time and then went back up to get Sarah. When I entered the booth, she was fast asleep. It was difficult to wake her and when I did it was a sort of half-wakefulness. I told her it was time to go and she stood and tried to walk, nearly tripping on her shorts and underwear. I pulled them up for her and led her to my car. She slept all the way to my house and until the next morning. I practically had to carry her to my room. We didn’t get any studying done, but I think she learned a valuable lesson. 

The next morning, I awoke first. It was around ten o’clock, the normal time for me to wake up after a late night at the theatre. Sarah was still asleep in the extra bed in my room, so I went to the bathroom and cleaned up a bit then went to the living room. My parent’s weren’t there like they’d normally be on weekend morning, so I went to the kitchen where I found a note on the refrigerator. 

‘Went to the mall, had errands to run, call the cell if you need us. Love, Mom and Dad’

I smiled and opened the fridge looking for something to eat. By the time Sarah showed up in the kitchen, still wearing the clothes she’d gone to sleep in, I’d finished my cereal and toast.

“Hungry?” I asked.

She nodded and reached for a bowl. “So,” she said somewhat hesitantly while pouring cereal, “Didn’t get much studying done, eh?”

“We can after breakfast if you want.”

Sarah nodded. “Sure. So, uh… did you really…” she trailed off and sat at the kitchen table, staring at her cereal.

I hesitated a bit before I spoke. “Yes.”

“Ah.” She put a spoonful of cereal in her mouth and chewed slowly. “I’d never been…”

“I know,” I responded.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked still not looking up.

“No, I’m not mad. I was at the time, but now… As long as you promise not to drink alcohol until you’re twenty-one.”

She nodded. “I promise.” Then she gave a half smile and looked up at me, “I don’t think my bottom could handle it.” We both laughed a bit at that but it was still somewhat strained. Sarah ate in silence for a while and I puttered around the kitchen, not doing anything important. When she was done eating, we cleaned up and went to the living room to study for a while.

In the middle of conjugating verbs, Sarah stopped and looked at me. “Would you do it again?” she asked.

“What?” I replied confused.

“My mom, she never…” again she trailed off a bit, “So I was wondering, if you thought you had to, would you do it again.”

I thought about it for a bit. Last night, I was angry and saw Sarah as acting like an irresponsible brat and had given her what I felt an irresponsible brat deserved. However, she was my friend, not my responsibility. Then again, I thought, perhaps in this case, it’s the same thing.

“If I thought I had to,” I answered after a bit.

We studied for about an hour or so more until the phone rang. I answered it and Sarah’s mother was on the other end.

“One moment, please,” I told her, “I’ll get Sarah.” I put the phone down and went back to the living room. “Sarah, you’re mom’s on the phone.”

She rolled her eyes but got up and answered the phone. I sat in the living room looking at our French book, but Sarah’s voice began rising and it kept me from concentrating. I knew she’d been having arguments with her mother lately, but I’d not been witness to any of those conversations. I knew Sarah’s mother rather well, well enough to know that she was fair with her daughter and a nice person. My friend’s continued rudeness which by now was quite audible started to get me a bit miffed. I tried to stifle my rising ire, it wouldn’t do any good to try and yell at Sarah when she was fresh off an argument with her mom. None of my business, I told myself, but another thought came unbidden to my mind, If I thought I had to.

The phone slammed into the receiver and Sarah came back in, sitting on the couch with a thwump and crossed her arms angrily. 

“Is, uh… everything alright?” I asked.

“No, my mom is such a bitch!” she whined, refusing to look at me.

“Sarah, I know your mother, she’s a nice person,” I tried to reason. “What’s going on?”

“She won’t let me do anything,” no other answer was forthcoming and Sarah seemed content to sit on the couch and pout.

“What is it she won’t let you do?”

“Everything!” Sarah exploded, standing up and pacing the room a bit.

“It seems to me,” I replied, “That you’re being a bit unreasonable.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed at me a bit and she mumbled something.

“What was that?” I asked.

“I said, ‘What are you going to do about it’.” Her body was set in rigid defiance, but her voice wavered a bit and her eyes seemed to be pleading with me.

“I think you know what I’m gonna do,” my voice held a steel to it I didn’t know was possible. I stood up and gripped her by the upper arm and began leading her to my room. She struggled a bit, but not much, she could have broken free any time if she’d really wanted to. Once in my room I closed and locked the door and closed the blinds. That done I sat on my bed and pulled her over to me. For a moment I hesitated over whether or not to lower her shorts, but she took the decision out of my hands by unbuttoning them herself and draping herself across my knees.

“Sarah,” I said in a stern voice, “I understand you and you’re mother are not getting along great right now, but the way you talk about her and the way you talk to her are completely unnecessary. I think you need a reminder of what happens when you misbehave.”

Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. 

There was no hesitation and Sarah squealed with the first spank. Immediately she began wriggling and her free hand came back to try and cover her bottom. Easily I grabbed that wrist and held it to the small of her back.

Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. 

Her little yelps had increased a bit as the spanking progressed, but she wasn’t crying, and I thought that this spanking needed a bit more intensity in order to get all the pent up emotions out. Swiftly, I hooked a finger into the waistband of her panties and lowered them to her knees.

Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. 

Her tan colored bottom began to turn the light pink it had been last night, but I didn’t let up.

Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. 

Finally, Sarah was sobbing uncontrollably, offering apologies that could not be heard through her tears. I stopped the spanking and rubbed her back as she cried until she quieted down. Standing up she pulled her underwear and shorts back up. She sniffled and wiped her tears away with the back of one hand. Then she caught me in a tight embrace.

“Thank you,” she whispered, “Thank you for caring.” We sat like that for a long time.

A couple of hours later, I was driving Sarah home. Neither of us said much, nothing really needed to be said. It wasn’t until we were pulling into the driveway of her house that I broke the silence.

“Be sure to apologize to your mother.”

“What?” she asked incredulously as we each stepped out of the car and began walking to the door of her house. “You’re kidding right?”

Quickly I reached out and smacked her on her rear.

“Ouch!” she jumped at the unexpected swat and looked around to make sure no one saw. Luckily, the street was empty. “Alright,” she mumbled quickly when I got ready to deliver another.

Sarah was about to open the door when it opened from the inside, her mother was standing in the doorway frowning. “You were supposed to be home an hour ago young lady.”

Sarah looked about to make a sharp retort, but stopped herself. “Yeah, sorry about that mom,” she said instead. Her mother’s face bore the expression of shock. Quickly Sarah glanced at me and swallowed. “And, about what I said earlier… I’m sorry about that too.” Her mother’s face definitely softened at that.

“Well…” said her mother. “Uh, thank you for driving her home, Kayla.”

“No problem,” I responded with a smile “See ya Monday,” I said to Sarah.

“Yeah, see ya,” she responded smiling a bit.

I got back in my car and drove home, happy in the knowledge that I had helped a friend.