My name's Kelly, and I have an identical twin sister named Shelly. We're both 18 and seniors in high school. It's awesome being twins. A lot of twins strive for individuality, but not us. We lean into it, and we love it. Our parents think they can tell us apart, but even they get it wrong a lot. That kinda works in our favor. Our parents are really strict and have always spanked us when we were naughty. And, like everything else, we shared our spankings. If that seems weird, it's because half the time our parents can't figure out which of us is guilty, so their choice is sometimes just random. And, frankly, we sort of revel in the ambiguity, so we just don't argue about it. Instead... well, it's Odds & Evens.

If you haven't heard of the game, it works like this: one of us will say either "Odds" or "Evens." Then we sort of do the ro-sham-bo fist-on-palm thing twice, and then on the third time, we'll hold out a certain number of fingers. Add the number of fingers each player holds out together, and it's either an odd number or an even number. Whoever called it is the winner. For us, the loser takes the spanking.

Maybe the best example is to tell you about a spanking that happened a few months ago. Shelly was late coming home from a date, and she was sent up to our room to wait for a spanking. I was putting on my PJs for bed, and she came in and said, "I was late coming home... so... 'Odds.'"

I immediately understood and replied, "Evens," and we both threw down. I held out two fingers, and she did three. I nodded and felt a chill run down my back. Shelly ran to the closet to put on her own PJs, changed quickly, and sat down on the bed, putting on a calm demeanor as if she had been calm all evening. I didn't have to do much acting to assume my role.

A few minutes later, Daddy knocked on the door, opened it, and stepped in.

"Kelly, please step out and leave us alone for a moment."

Shelly stood up from the bed and stepped towards the door, giving me a worried look on her way out. She shut the door behind her. Daddy sat down on the edge of my bed, and I walked to his right side and lay down across his lap. He pulled down my PJ bottoms and immediately started spanking me.

Daddy spanks hard and fast, randomly spreading the swats across the entire bottom from the top of the crack to the tops of the thighs. He's pretty athletic, so his spanks are really hard and only a few of them will make either of us start bawling. When it's me getting it, it seems like his spankings last an hour, but when I'm the one out in the hall listening while Shelly gets it, it's remarkably brief - only three or four minutes, but the intensity of it is almost unbearable.

When it's over, Daddy grabs me by the elbow and drags me back to my feet. I can hardly see through the tears, and all I can do is wail and do the "spank dance," hopping back and forth and rubbing my poor bottom. Daddy leaves without another word. When I'm the one out in the hall, he walks right past me.

As soon as he's gone, Shelly comes in, and we just hold each other. Emotions are always high between us. Whether the guilty party was punished or not, there's nothing but empathy and gratitude from the one of us that was spared. After all, we both know either of us could have lost the game.

After the crying calmed down a bit, I lay down on the bed on my tummy, and Shelly went and got a tube of lotion from the dresser, gently lowered my PJ bottoms, and applied some, gently spreading it around. That done, she pulled my bottoms back up and went to her own bed, turning out the light on the way.

And that's how spankings go for us. We don't keep score, but if I had to think back, I'd say on the whole we each deserve, and wind up getting about half our spankings, so we don't resent our little system.

The thing is... I have been daydreaming about my spankings. The daydreams always revolve around me lying across the lap of an anonymous man while he spanks me like Daddy does. I can hear myself cry and watch my bottom turn red under his fiery assault, and it makes my pussy twitch.

A few weeks ago, after the lights were out and we were both in bed, Shelly spoke up, "Kel, can I ask you something?"

That question in and of itself was unusual. We open enough with each other. I was briefly concerned.

"Of course. You know you don't need to ask."

There was a pause. I couldn't see her in the darkness, but it seemed like she was gathering up the courage to continue.

"When we get spanked... I mean... I know it hurts a lot... But do you ever... I don't know... think about it?"

Oh my God.

She didn't say it, but she didn't have to. I knew that if I had had the courage to ask about those feelings... I'd have just as much trouble saying it out loud.

"Yeah, Shel. I know what you're talking about."

I could hear the relief in her voice. "Ok. I just... I thought maybe I was going crazy."

"Naw. It's like... I don't like it... but... it does... something. You know?"

She didn't say anything more. But that night... well, you can guess what I dreamed about.

The funny thing is... We still get spanked when we break the rules. We certainly don't go out of our way to get more spankings or anything like that - we don't want to upset our parents. And we still play Odds & Evens. But I'm pretty sure both of us feel like winning and losing the game mean the opposite thing now.