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: Adult
The Umbrella Stand
By
Valerie Meilong <VMeilong1@excite.com>
Gregory Hill entered the high street antique shop one Saturday and saw the brass shell case. "Ideal umbrella stand," he thought. He noticed a faint engraving, a crest; two rampant lions on a shield. Longbottom School was inscribed at the top, and "Vita brevis est : Ars longa" was in a scroll at the bottom. Around the crest was a ring of leaves. Birch, he was sure. Significant? Perhaps. But the penny didn't drop.
"Boer War," said the proprietor. "Solid Brass. £45." Gregory haggled, and got it for £30.
On Monday, he set it in his office near his single wardrobe. Perfect. He went to his desk, and glanced at the shell case. My God! There was crook-handled cane in it. It was semi-transparent! He got up, reached for it, but his hand went right through it! Trembling, he returned to his desk. At 9.15, Janet, his young secretary, came in with the mail. "Ooh, nice," she said as she saw the shell case. "For your brollies?" She made no mention of the cane. "Couldn't she see it?" he wondered.
He dictated answers to his mail. When he'd finished, she moved to the door. Her pencil slipped out of her hand and she bent down to retrieve it. The cane immediately left the stand, and crossed the room. It swished down across her bottom, then vanished. "Ow!" she said, straightening up, looking around angrily. But he was too far away to have been the culprit. Mystified, she left the room.
A week later, she was bending over his office table, tidying the corporate hype-brochures. The cane immediately floated swiftly across the room and whacked sharply across her bottom. She gasped, turned, and glared at him. As before, he was too far away. Rubbing her bottom ruefully, she swept out. Two weeks later, it happened once again, this time in her own office. He saw the cane fly across the room, pass cleanly through the closed door, and three sharp whacks followed.
On the last Friday of the month, just after 5pm, Janet walked into the office with a strange look on her face. Deliberately, she bent over one of the black club armchairs. The cane levitated, and whacked her. She gasped. Then it whacked her three more times. She stood up, arched her back, and clutched her bottom. Then she bent over once more, her hands on her skirt, sliding it up to her waist. He stared at her brief panties, her beautiful legs, her stockings held up with a white garter belt. He adored stockings. The cane hovered, then whacked down two more strokes. Stiffly she got up, and left.
On Monday morning she put the mail on his desk, and said, "How do you do it?" He looked at her sheepishly. "I don't know," he said honestly. There was a long silence. Then she smiled impishly. "Okay. I'll buy that," she said, "but to tell the truth, I rather like it."
He nearly fell out of his chair.
The End
© Copyright Summer, 2001
***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** This story is for entertainment purposes only, and it does not necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author. All characters are fictional and any resemblance to any real person alive or dead is purely coincidental. The Copyright of this story is held by ESP Publishing Ltd., Beijing, China. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via an electronic medium such as the Internet is permitted as long as the text is not modified, and the name of the author and this copyright notice is clearly included. Any other form of publication is expressly forbidden unless authorized in writing by ESP Publishing Ltd
Reviews
Frank <sswitcher(at)yahoo(dot)com>
What a nifty idea, a cane-holder haunted by the ghost of one of the canes it once contained. I want one! In this pleasant, light-hearted little tale, I particluarly liked the subtle little touch of the latin motto - roughly paraphrased: "Life is short, but full of spankable arses", or something to that effect?
Molly B <mollyb(at)newsguy(dot)com>
My kind of ghost story. This was cute and clever. Nice umbrella stand, nice details.