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Wolfie
Supreme Spanko
Username: Wolfie
Post Number: 1805
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Thursday, October 26, 2006 - 08:05 pm: | 
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Ahhhhh, for a tale of chills and thrills...
The cemetery was typical of most in New England; black wrought-iron fence, gray granite headstones and faded flowers. Now that autumn was here the trees surrounding this place of eternal rest raised their stark branches towards the sky, the occasional orange or red leaf drifting earthward in defeat. Squirrels rustled in the underbrush and a crow called while flying overhead. The stones and monuments stood in silence, with only their engraved stories waiting to be told to any who would listen.
The silence was broken by the sound of a woman crying. Her wrenching sobs and quiet sniffles would have broken the heart of even the hardest cynic. The weeping belonged to Rachel, a woman of middle years with lovely red hair and woebegone blue eyes. She knelt by her mothers grave…store bought flowers in hand and her grief apparent for all to see. Her mother had been her constant companion and best of friends, and now that she was gone Rachel didn’t know how she could go on. She knew it was wrong to wallow in grief, but she couldn’t seem to stop the tears that continued to pour from her heart. Eventually she began to wander among the graves, trying to pull herself together and sniffling into a tissue as she read the inscriptions of the long ago dead.
Rachel’s skin crawled and she suddenly jumped, sure she’d seen a man spying on her from the bushes. Her heart pounding in fear, she finally screwed up her courage enough to go and see if someone was really there. Off in the corner in a long forgotten section of the cemetery was an old monument; so covered with vines and brush that all she could see was a man‘s face. As she came closer Rachel could see that he was dressed in the manner of the early 1900’s, all starched shirt and tweed suit with his hair slicked down and the ends of his moustache meticulously curled. As Rachel stared at him in bemusement, she couldn’t tell what expression the artist had attempted to carve on his face….he looked stern but kind, gentle but domineering. His eyes compelled her to stumble forward; pulling at the greenery which had entwined him, yanking and tugging until he was completely uncovered. The disorder was repugnant to her and she didn’t stop until she had swept the last bit of twig and branch from his form and the slab he sat upon. For a brief moment Rachel stared into his eyes, her pale hands in stark contrast to the cold, gray ones on his thighs. She felt a moments disorientation, almost as if she had known him before…and she dizzily lowered herself to sit beside him, her shoulder against his leg. Collecting herself, Rachel remembered where she was and why she was there…and a fresh bout of weeping doubled her over. Seeking any form of comfort Rachel turned her face into the leg next to her, crying as though her heart would break.
“Don’t take on so sweetheart, your going to make yourself sick.”
Dimly Rachel heard the words drift into her mind, very faint but with a distinct Scottish burr. Thinking she was imagining things, she pulled another pathetic excuse for a tissue from her pocket and tried to wipe her streaming eyes.
“Come now pet, surely things aren’t as bad as your making them out to be? Dry your eyes now and take heart….your mother wouldn’t want you grieve like this.”
Rachel would have sworn a hand gently skimmed her hair as the masculine voice once again entered her mind. She turned to look into the face of the granite man, seeing the look of compassion on his face, the mouth turned up in a loving smile. Warmth filled her inside, drying her tears and leaving a quiet peace in it’s place. I’m hallucinating, she thought….but it feels so nice. Maybe this is what dying feels like.
“Don’t be silly child….you have a long life ahead of you. Now it’s time you stopped letting grief get the better of you, quit your sniffling and get on with it.”
This time when Rachel turned to look into the man’s face he looked stern, and she wondered how she could have imagined him smiling at her. Still, his tone had put some starch in her spine and she collected herself with one last sigh. Standing and dusting herself off, Rachel ran her hand down the sleeve of the statue’s coat and placing her hand on his, gave it a small squeeze in thanks. She shook her head at the flights of fancy that caused her to think a statue had been talking to her….but if she’d looked over her shoulder as she left the cemetery she would have seen his hand lift as if in farewell.
Rachel came many times that year to visit her parents graves, and always made time to check on the man in the corner. While planting some flowers around his monument, she’d unearthed a plaque with his name and the dates on it. Duncan Stewart it had read, 1893-1949 and nothing more. Rachel would wonder about his history; whether he’d had a wife and children, had fought in the second world war and what he’d done for a living. Every now and then she thought she heard that pleasant voice in her head, the burr more pronounced when he felt passionate about something. Rachel would dismiss it as her imagination, never realizing how she came to rely on Duncan’s presence in her life for companionship and stability. She would always come to him with things she needed to talk over, new ideas and business plans, worries over bills and her children. As a single mother Rachel always seemed to be worrying if she was a good one, and if her children were alright. One of the most recent trials in memory was when her teenage son had been caught by the police for speeding and had been given a ticket. Rachel worried that grounding him and making him do community service work was too severe, and that she was alienating him from her by being too tough on him. She heard a familiar chuckle in her mind and then the voice that she was unknowingly waiting for.
“You worry too much lass. The boy is fine. If he’d been my own son I would have skelped him within an inch of his life! He’ll learn from this lesson and be a better man for it.”
Skelped…Rachel thought, I wonder what that word means and where I came up with it.
“You would say spanked I believe. You know what I mean, don’t you sweetheart? Or do you? There’s been plenty of times I’ve thought you could do with a good spanking, and it’s been quite obvious to me that your parents were remiss in that area.”
Rachel’s mouth fell open in disbelief. She whipped around to look into the face of the statue, sure she would see a grin on the cold stone face and a twinkle in the eyes. It did seem as though one corner of the mouth crooked upwards more than the other did…. WHAT was she thinking? She was more rattled by the voice in her head than she should be, but the subject was a sensitive one to her. Rachel had never been spanked in her life, but it was something she had always fantasized about. Her face flamed as she thought about what it would be like to be dominated by a man in that way, placed over his knee and forced to lie still as his hand connected with her bottom over and over again. Her clothes suddenly felt too tight and she shifted restlessly where she sat on the marble slab. The masculine chuckle that filled her head brought even more blood rushing to her cheeks, as did his next statement.
“Believe me Rachel, if you had been mine you wouldn’t have sat comfortable many a time. You would have been bare bottomed across my lap whenever it was needful, my hand beating out a steady tattoo until you mended your ways. I’m a firm believer that spanking a lass will keep her contented and out of trouble…at least most of the time.”
Rachel came to her feet with a gasp. It couldn’t be! Was there really someone talking to her in her head? Had she lost her mind? She glared at the statue indignantly, and straightening to her full height spoke aloud for the first time.
“My parents didn’t believe in spanking children and neither do I. And there’s no man alive who I’d allow to do that to me now; you, you…..BULLY!”
Rachel stalked back to her car in a huff, slamming the car door after she got in and angrily shifting into first gear. She ignored the fact that her heart was pounding in fear….and excitement, for the last thing she’d heard as she drove away was…
“Ahhhh, but I’m not alive Rachel…or am I?”
If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.
Grow old with me, the best is yet to be.
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Bethie
Moderator/Spanking Aficionado
Username: Bethie
Post Number: 1182
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Thursday, October 26, 2006 - 08:57 pm: |
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 OOohh scary! I love this story! That skeleton is scary, too. 
 This is my kind of halloween story. Btw, will you continue Rachel's story? It's really good! |
Wolfie
Supreme Spanko
Username: Wolfie
Post Number: 1806
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Thursday, October 26, 2006 - 09:20 pm: |
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Yes Bethie, there will be a part 2...probably by Halloween. 
If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.
Grow old with me, the best is yet to be.
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Buenaventura
Spanko
Username: Buenaventura
Post Number: 243
Registered: 04-2006
| | Posted on Friday, October 27, 2006 - 12:39 am: |
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Hi Wolfie,
Damn you never fail to surprise me.If you can write this well why aren,t you doing it more often.It,s great and if you don,t write more Your old man should give a really good spanking. I,d always volunteer of course. |
Wolfie
Supreme Spanko
Username: Wolfie
Post Number: 1807
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Friday, October 27, 2006 - 10:02 am: |
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Thank you Buenaventura, Im glad you like the story. I'd love a really good spanking from either one of you...but your both too darn far away. 
If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.
Grow old with me, the best is yet to be.
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Tammynx
Moderator/Spanking Aficionado
Username: Tammynx
Post Number: 1406
Registered: 10-2005
| | Posted on Friday, October 27, 2006 - 10:46 am: |
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Great story!! I can't wait for part two!! |
Buenaventura
Spanko
Username: Buenaventura
Post Number: 250
Registered: 04-2006
| | Posted on Friday, October 27, 2006 - 01:42 pm: |
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Sorry about that Wolfie but the upside is that you,ll have more time to write.With every bad comes some good.Be a good girl and write lots more. |
Lil_miss_naughty
New member
Username: Lil_miss_naughty
Post Number: 12
Registered: 07-2006
| | Posted on Friday, October 27, 2006 - 05:23 pm: |
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that was a great story realy enjoyed it
im a very naughty girl :op
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Blushingbride
New member
Username: Blushingbride
Post Number: 16
Registered: 10-2006
| | Posted on Saturday, October 28, 2006 - 03:27 pm: |
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Very cool story, and appropriatetly creepy for this time of year. Well done! Can't wait for the next part. |
Wolfie
Supreme Spanko
Username: Wolfie
Post Number: 1808
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Saturday, October 28, 2006 - 05:20 pm: |
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Thank you both very much, part 2 will be posted soon. 
If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.
Grow old with me, the best is yet to be.
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Cheekychipmunk
Spanko
Username: Cheekychipmunk
Post Number: 170
Registered: 05-2006
| | Posted on Sunday, October 29, 2006 - 08:36 pm: |
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Oh Wolfie,
What a wonderful story. Can't wait for the second part.
You have the most wonderful imagination.
"Success in almost any field depends more on energy and drive than it does on intelligence."
Sloan Wilson
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Wolfie
Supreme Spanko
Username: Wolfie
Post Number: 1809
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Monday, October 30, 2006 - 12:58 pm: |
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I have a bizarre imagination Cheeky...but it sure is fun! 
Part 2 soon, I promise! 
If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.
Grow old with me, the best is yet to be.
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Misticgem
New member
Username: Misticgem
Post Number: 7
Registered: 10-2006
| | Posted on Monday, October 30, 2006 - 02:20 pm: |
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Very good story, cant wait to read the rest ..... |
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