Raven’s Black Tears

Misc story.  Involves self-injury.  Please read the disclaimer below.

IMPORTANT Disclaimer: The author of this story in NO WAY believes in the NONconsensual spanking of teenagers with psychological problems. If you are a parent or friend and think that someone you know is cutting, don’t spank them, please. As a cutter and friend of many cutters, I know that sometimes this isn’t the right answer. But *sometimes* it is, depending on the situation. I wrote this story because I know there are cutters in this group who probably would wish this happened to them, or just want to read about a situation they can relate to. Please do not read this story if the idea of cutting bothers you, or if the idea of a consensual spanking of a cutter bothers you. Thanks! And enjoy the story.

———-

There was a pounding on the door of my apartment. My parents were gone and I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I was hesitant to answer it.. that is, until I looked out the peephole and saw my best friend, Raven, standing there, arms folded and black makeup smeared around her eyes. I hurridly opened the door in a panic. Oh no, I thought… what had happened?

We were both sixteen and had known each other since junior high. We were both the psycho outcasts, but while she was thin and pale, dressing herself in baggy black jeans and black mesh long-sleeved shirts with long black hair and black makeup, I was chunky and wore baggy jeans and T-shirts, no makeup. She was the stereotypical goth girl, and I the stereotypical grunge girl.

“What is it?” I asked, pulling her inside.

She was still crying, black tears streaming down her pale cheeks. I couldn’t stand to see her blue eyes mixed with red. “Everything,” she mumbled, crumbling into my arms.

I held her there, letting her sob in my embrace as I stroked her hair gently and tried to talk to her in a soothing voice, trying to tell her that everything was going to be okay, even if I didn’t believe it myself.

I don’t know how long we stood there, but she finally let go and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her long sleeved shirt. I noticed that she was holding the sleeve down with her hand and immediately knew what happened. That’s when I turned from a worried to angry… or not so much angry, but just hurt.

“Raven!” I yelled, slamming the door shut.

She jumped. “I’m sorry!” she blubbered, still sniffling.

“Lift up your sleeve,” I ordered.

She shook her head, sniffling, keeping a firm hold on the shirt to make sure it covered her wrists.

“I’m going to give you to the count of three, Young Lady,” I warned, casting her an evil glare.

She sniffled again. “Please, Jamie…” she begged. “I had to do it.”

“You don’t *have* to do anything. I know things can be hard sometimes, but there are other ways to take out your frustrations than cutting yourself!”

“I’m sorry… it was an impulsive reaction.”

“And you know what my impulsive reaction is..”

“Nooo… come on… please. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head at her. “You were sorry *last* time, and the time before that, and the time before that. This cutting has to stop!”

“I know, I know… but..”

“Listen, you asked me to help you out with this problem, and I know that’s why you’re here… and I’m not going to back down on my word. And anyway, I’ve told you thousands of times that there are better ways to deal with your stress… you can call me and we can go running, or you can do situps, or even sleep! Anything but cutting!”

“I… I know.. but I wasn’t thinking about that… It just hurt so much.”

I sighed closing my eyes and rubbing my temples, trying to think. I took a deep breath in to steady my shakey hands. Oh, I knew so well how she felt… I had my own scars to prove it. Being sixteen could be so hard… with parents always in your hair and siblings never leaving you alone and the stress of stupid schoolwork… Oh yes, I knew so well. But we had an agreement… anytime either of us cut ourselves, the other would spank her. And I knew I had to do it, no matter how much it hurt me.

I opened my eyes. “I know it hurts, Raven..” I muttered, seeing her slumped down on the couch showing really poor posture, part of that self-esteem problem that we shared. “But we have to build each other up… we’re going to be happy one day, okay? But you can’t cut yourself. We had an agreement… I have to spank you,” I said, trying to be the stronger one.

She nodded slightly. “I’m such a fuckup,” she exclaimed.

“Noooo, you’re not,” I argued. “And if you ever say that again, I’m going to get my dad’s belt.”

She wiped her eyes again, still sniffling.

“Let me see the cuts, Raven.”

She looked at me with that tear-stained face and nearly broke my heart. Hesitantly, she lifted the sleeve, rolling it all the way up her forearm. Yes, I was a cutter, but I still nearly passed out when I saw the damage done to her arm. I fell to my knees, burying my face in my hands, trying to supress the tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

I tried to breathe, tried to tell myself that she was okay, that she hadn’t hurt herself too badly, but the image of those wounds kept passing through my head. I took her hands in mine and pictured her sitting in the corner alone, weeping like a small child and slashing herself with a tiny razorblade… and I let the tears silently stream down my face, some of them falling into my hands, some falling into hers.

“I didn’t want to hurt you this much,” she said, again in a whisper, and I could tell that she was crying as well.

“I care about you so much,” I whispered back, not knowing if she could hear me or not. And we stayed that way for a couple of minutes until I could regain myself and do my duty as best friend… even if I didn’t want to do it. I looked up into her eyes, now having glossy eyes of my own to share with hers. “Raven, you can’t do this to yourself. It’s no good,” I said.

She nodded softly, a black tear trickling down her cheek.

I stood shakily and wiped my eyes. I’d only spanked my best friend once before, and she’d spanked me three times before. I knew exactly what she’d have done to me had I cut myself that badly, and knew that’s what she was expecting of me. It was hard trying to be the strong one.

I kissed her forehead. “Okay, baby. Go get my hairbrush. It’s in my room on the dresser.”

She gulped. “B-but… Jamie..” she whispered. “I–”

I cut her off. “Now, young lady.”

She stood from the couch and ambled towards my bedroom. My hands were freezing because I was so nervous. I sat down on the couch and closed my eyes, remembering how my Mexican friends always said “take it easy” in such a way that would calm me down. That’s what I was trying to do, take it easy. It was hard to breathe, but with each deep breath I took, my heart stopped pounding so wildly, and by the time Raven appeared in front of me, plastic hairbrush in hand, I was calm enough to do my duty.

“Okay,” I said, retrieving the hairbrush from her. I sat up straight on the couch. “Pants down, over my lap,” I ordered.

She nodded slowly and whimpered, but did as told. Seconds later, my best friend was over my lap in only a shirt and a pair of black silky panties, with her pants around her ankles. I positioned her as best as I could and placed my cold hand on her bottom. I could feel her body quiver slightly.

“Raven, baby, I love you,” I said. “But you have to stop hurting yourself, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I know how much stuff hurts sometimes, but you have to be strong. And if you really want pain to take your mind off of it, you can call me, okay? This is much safer than cutting… no infections… you can’t die from me spanking you.”

She nodded again, and I could tell she was very uneasy.

I wanted to let the lesson sink in, though, and I thought she could possibly benefit from lying over my lap as long as possible, so I lectured some more. “Cutting is very dangerous,” I told her, as if she didn’t know. “And not only is it dangerous, but if your parents found out, then you’d be sent to the crazy house, and no friend of mine is going to the crazy house, right?”

She nodded again.

I lifted my hand up and popped her panty-clad bottom, causing her to squeal a bit. But this was just the beginning.

“You are not to cut yourself, ever, do you hear me?”

“Yes,” she groaned.

I lifted my hand and popped her backside again, this time on the other cheek.

“What will you do next time instead of cutting yourself?” I asked.

“I’ll call you or go running around outside.”

“Good,” I answered, then tugged her panties down to mid-thigh.

She groaned upon me doing so, but I interrupted that groan by smacking her bottom, this time with a little more emphasis than the times before, so I could make sure she knew I meant business.

“Ahhhoww.. that hurt, Jamie..” she whined.

“*That* hurt? Wait til I use this hairbrush..” I answered, then smacked again, and again, and again, covering her tiny bottom and the sit-spots. She squirmed and squealed after each smack, but I didn’t let up any. In fact, I spanked harder as time went on, leaving pink splotches on her burning rear. But I was far from over.

“Jamie… pleaseee.. I’ve learned my lesson,” she begged, and I noticed her gripping onto the couch cushion.

“And what lesson is that?” I asked, still spanking, this time concentrating only on sit-spots and thighs.

“Oooooowwwwwww… not to cut!” she yelped

“It’s not a matter of cutting,” I explained, not letting up on the spanking, even though my hand was beginning to hurt and I was ready to use the hairbrush. It wasn’t time yet… I had to make sure the spanking was thorough and she wouldn’t forget it for a while. “It’s a matter of dealing with things better… and letting go.” I kept the rhythm up. “Stuff is hard, I know, but you’re stronger than that. And you gotta stop letting little things bother you so much. Just let go…” I had no idea if she knew what I was talking about or not. “And letting go is a lot easier than cutting it away,” I added, landing two really hard smacks to her sit spots then resting it on her bottom. I can say this much — my hand wasn’t cold anymore.

I felt the warmth in her bottom with my left hand… yes, it had been a good enough warm up… I could tell by the redness in her backside and the warmth I felt while touching it.

I reached for the oval hairbrush that sat on the coffee table and looked at her. She was still gripping onto the couch cushion and I noticed her biting her lower lip. She was crying slightly.

I rested the hairbrush on her bottom. “Oh Raven… you’re so much stronger than that… you’ve been through hell and back… you can handle it. You don’t need a razorblade to help you get through everything.”

“I know,” she whimpered.

I lifted up the hairbrush and crashed it down on the middle of her red bottom.

“Ahhhhhhhooooowwwwiiiieeee!” she yelped, letting go of the cushion to try and protect her poor bottom.

“Nu huh,” I said. “Hands away.”

She moved them back to the cushion. “But that hurt!” she squealed.

“Good. And you’ll think about this next time you think about cutting? And by the way, I want your razorblade. I don’t know where the hell you got it, but we’re going to get rid of it, understand?” I asked then let her have another hard smack in the very same spot.

“Oooooowwwwwwww!” she howled. “Okayyy.”

“Good girl,” I said, then finished my work with the hairbrush. I lifted it and smacked it, increasing speed and strength as the spanking continued, making sure that I covered every area that needed to be covered, including her sitspots and thighs. I noticed her squirming increase with the more spanks that rained down on her now very red bottom, and then the struggles died down and her sobs increased, and I knew she’d had enough. I dropped the brush down on the couch and scooped my poor friend into my arms, being careful not to touch her throbbing bottom.

She was wailing apologies as she lay there, face buried into my chest. I just stroked her hair and rocked her back and forth like a baby, holding her tightly then singing to her in a soft voice.

We stayed like that all night, she falling asleep in my arms. I had to wake her about nine because my father would be home soon, and I knew he’d be frightened if he saw my half-naked best friend lying in my arms like that. I kissed her forehead gently and patted her bottom, then gave her one final hug. “No more cutting,” I ordered as she handed me a tiny razorblade that she had in her pocket.

“No more,” she replied.

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