This short story is an entry in the 2001 Soc.Sexuality.Spanking Summer Short Story Contest and is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice. The author would appreciate your comments
Category: Last
Lily & Paul
By
BitOTrouble <kawa92805@yahoo.com>
Lily walked through the dusty house. Each room brought back memories. Here was the nook where she and Paul took afternoon tea. There was the parlor where they entertained callers.
There was the four poster bed where Paul had her tied up for four days, face down. She remembered fondly how he had hand fed her and gave her sips of water from a crystal goblet. He would untie her legs to let her sit on a commode. Then, after she was secured again, he would take his razor strap and whip her bare buttocks until it she cried out. He would always stop when she made a sound, so she tried not to. Eventually, it would be too much, and she made a noise in spite of herself.
Then he would take his clothes off and lie on top of her and enter her that way. She was sure that women were not supposed to enjoy any of the things that he did to her, but she loved all of it. She loved Paul.
And if it hadn't been for the widow McAllister, their life might have gone on like that forever. That woman with all her money, when she had nothing. She never asked him why he didn't marry her. She didn't have to.
She walked to the back of the house to the basement entrance, and slowly walked down the stairs. She smiled at the desk where she had first been ordered by Paul to bend over. The desk had been in his classroom then, before stories had circulated and some narrow minded parents had gotten him fired.
Mrs. McAllister wouldn't have leaned over that desk. She wondered if Paul thought that he could carry on with her down here while his new wife lay sleeping downstairs.
She remembered that time as a schoolgirl when he said she should be spanked. Something thrilled her about it. She couldn't explain it then, nor could she now. But when he closed the door and she leaned over the desk, grabbing the other edge, she felt more alive than she had in all her seventeen years. When he lifted her long skirt up over her waist and lowered her knickers, she thought she'd gone to heaven. And when she felt his hand strike her bottom, she knew she would never love another man.
A sound upstairs disturbed her reverie. She sighed. It was hard work haunting a house.
As she walked toward the front room, she saw Paul already at work. He tried to swat a young woman's behind, which he often tried, but his greatest regret at being dead was they didn't feel a thing. We went to work breathing on them (which always gave them a chill) and other tricks of the trade.
So you're probably wondering how we ended up spending eternity haunting this house. No, we didn't kill each other, but that's a whole different story.
The End
© Copyright Summer, 2001
Reviews
Simon <srb(at)imrryr(dot)demon(dot)co(dot)uk>
A very interesting approach here, with the story being made up of a series of thumbnail sketches of different incidents. It had a kind of cinematic quality which I thought was very effective. The way that some elements of the story were left unexplained also worked well.
Pablo <Pablo(dot)Stubbs(at)newsguy(dot)com>
This lovely piece manages the rare trick of seeming neatly resolved whilst also creating lots of curiosity about the characters and their world. Really nicely told, with carefully planted revelations and a last line that twists things further, but which fits exactly. A great job.