All characters are 18+
...
Ellie Wakefield and I had been friends for as long as I could remember. We'd met at school, age 4, and now it was twenty years later and we were living together in a little terraced London flat with the world at our fingertips -- or so we hoped. Really, adult life was a drudge -- I was temping in some office and she was managing a failing bar. It wasn't what we imagined when we graduated together. When we were 4, I'd thought of her as the prettier of us and I still felt that way -- I was curvier, my hair mousy brown and my face just a little too chubby, while she was slimmer, more athletic, with long auburn hair and pale skin that shone like starlight. In the old days, at school, I'd been riddled with acne while she stayed perfect -- and she also stayed my best friend. She'd dump people from her life if they looked at me the wrong way. I'd never met anyone like her. Maybe there wasn't anyone else.
Throughout our many, many years together, Ellie and I had been through just about every emotional up and down that two decades can throw at you. Included in that was a strange, indefinable attraction which went past friendship. Neither of us, so far as we knew, were particularly interested in women -- yet there'd been moments a little beyond our explanation for pretty much our entire friendship. We'd touched each other, more out of curiosity than attraction, at sleepovers, or kissed in nightclubs and even gone skinny dipping together in Greece. But there was nothing more to it. Then came our trip to Scotland.
When you've been stuck in a tiny London terrace for as long as we felt like we had, renting a cabin in the Highlands can feel like stepping into paradise. We took Ellie's little hatchback on the nearly ten hour journey to Inverness, chattering about whatever the whole way with me too excited even to nap, and found our snug little wooden cabin on the edge of a forest just as the sun was dipping beneath the distant mountains. Our one week stay was planned to be uneventful -- which was exactly what we needed amid life in London -- and so we watched films, went for walks in the cold misty air, played board games, and just revelled in our splendid isolation. Sharing a bed each night was unremarkable -- it was like being kids again -- and, as we lay next to each other one night, we got to talking about our sex lives. Ellie had recently broken up with her fiance, James, whom I'd always hated for his condescension, and I hadn't been with anyone for over a year.
"I just need someone who'll spank me," I muttered, half-seriously.
"What?" Ellie laughed. "Is that your new fetish?"
"I dunno," I said, truthfully. "Just been thinking about it. Sounds fun. I've been way too vanilla all my life -- need to get a bit kinky from time to time."
"Interesting."
Come the cold morning, we woke to find the landscape transformed -- snow had fallen overnight to repaint the Highlands into a vision of white. Excitement overcame us -- we ran outside, like children, not at all dressed for the setting. We quickly realised this and returned inside to put additional layers over our pyjamas. Then, as a herd of shivering sheep watched from a nearby field, the snowballs started to fly.
Rose-faced and sweating, yet giggling and scampering about nonetheless as we dodged each other's shots, it was a moment to feel like children again. Eventually, we went back in -- Ellie microwaved us chicken soup and we sat by the window, watching the snow start falling again.
"So," said Ellie, eventually, "feeling like going back outside?"
"Sure," I replied. "But I don't know if I can keep running around. Had no idea you could get so sweaty so fast."
"Well, you're unfit."
"That could be the case," I laughed.
So we went outside and, instead, returned to our well-trekked walk between the fields and past a nearby loch. The cattle looked very cold and ice was forming on the shallowest edges of the lake. As Ellie stood at its edge, prodding the ice with her foot to test its strength, I was seized by sudden inspiration/stupidity. I ran up behind her, having gathered a fistful of snow in my gloves hands, and dumped it down the back of her coat.
"Grace!" Ellie shrieked. "You prick!"
She span round with a furious look -- I met it with a smile. Her eyes narrowed.
"You'll never catch me," I teased.
"Wanna bet?" Was she smiling? "You're in big trouble -- you bad little girl."
"Huh?" I hesitated, surprised at her words, and that was my downfall. Ellie leaped at me and, as I turned to run, was already on me -- she dragged me to the ground, stronger than she looked, and pinned me to the hard, frost-covered ground. I struggled as she sat on my back, keeping me where I was, facing towards my kicking feet.
"Gotcha," Ellie sniggered.
"Okay, okay!" I hissed, finding her too heavy to lift. "Sorry! Get off!"
"Nah," she said. Suddenly, I felt her cold fingers under the hem of my coat, then under my jumper, and then eagerly creeping under the waistband of my grey thermal trousers.
"Ellie!" I yelled. "The fuck are you-"
"You be quiet, young lady," she growled. In an instant, our conversation from last night materialised in my head and I realised what was happening. It said a lot about me, I thought, that I obeyed. "You want the whole village to know?"
Immobilised and obediently silent, I squirmed as Ellie pushed my bottoms down, leaving my panties the only thing protecting my rear from her gaze and the chill January sky. As the cold hit me, again, I tried to protest.
"Ellie, come on, it's freezing."
"Don't worry, bad girl." I could hear her smile through every word. "I'll warm you right up."
Her hand striking my bottom cracked in the cold air, passing over the lake, the sharp pain shooting over me. I became certain people would hear us from miles away -- all I could do was hope they mistook the sound for a farmer shooting at crows. Biting my lip, trying not to try out, I still struggled, but Ellie had me at her mercy. My face burned with embarrassment -- we'd seen each other naked a thousand times but never had I been restrained like this. And not by her. By the fifth or sixth strike, I began yelping, even wailing, on the very edge of sobs.
"You're a bad girl, Grace," whispered Ellie. "And you know it."
"Ow..." I whimpered at the next hit, my rear already burning, my boots thumping into the hard frosty ground. "Ellie, come on, please..."
"I'm not stopping 'til I know you're sorry," she said. "You deserve to be punished, don't you?"
"Yes," I whispered, ashamed but, despite it all, hoping she wouldn't stop too quickly. Her hands on me, her weight on my body, felt too good to lose.
