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Wolfie
Prime Spanko
Username: Wolfie
Post Number: 1811
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Monday, October 30, 2006 - 08:24 pm: | 
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Rachel’s fears for her sanity kept her away from the cemetery after that, sure she was harboring some kind of split personality or other psychosis. Eventually she began to view that day at Duncan’s grave as her own mind playing tricks on her, and she went back to tending her parents resting places as she used to. If now and then she thought she heard a familiar voice calling her name she ignored it, and went on with planting flowers and cleaning the headstones. She knew there was no such things as ghosts, although her traitorous heart continued to listen for that soft voice in her mind.
She was sitting at home on the night of October 31st, a half empty bowl of candy by the front door as Rachel half heartedly listened to “it’s the great pumpkin Charlie Brown” on the TV. Both of her children were out at Halloween parties and not due home for hours yet, so with a decadent smile Rachel opened a purloined bar of chocolate and prepared to relax. Her attention was captured suddenly by a news flash during the old holiday favorite, the reporters voice brusque and a little grating. It seems vandals had been visiting several cemeteries that night; overturning headstones and painting graffiti on those they couldn’t otherwise damage. Rachel watched in horror as the man rattled off the names of the cemeteries already vandalized, the only thought in her head that they were getting closer to the cemetery her parents were in….and Duncan. Imagining his face covered with white paint, perhaps defamed with swear words or worse, damaged, made Rachel feel literally sick to her stomach. Realizing she couldn’t sit by and let some ill mannered teenagers get away with such a monstrosity, Rachel grabbed her car keys, a flashlight and the baseball bat she kept as a form of reassurance on those nights she was home alone. As she disappeared out the door she missed the reporters parting words, asking people to stay in their homes as these vandals could prove dangerous.
The cemetery had an eerie kind of beauty that night, the waxing moon throwing everything into shadow. The metal fence that surrounded the place stretched spidery fingers across the ground and a gentle breeze caused the trees bare branches to clack together ominously. Somewhere nearby a rabbit screamed in terror as an owl floated silently overhead, and a neighbors dog barked frantically, as if in warning. Rachel shivered in apprehension as she quietly walked to her parents gravesites, glad to see they’d been unmolested. With one last glance around, she nervously made her way towards the corner that Duncan was buried in. He too seemed to be fine, and she leaned against the statue gratefully, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. So loudly in fact, that at first she didn’t hear that gentle voice drifting into her mind.
“What are you doing here lass, at this time of night? Coming alone to a graveyard on All Hallow’s Eve…What were you thinking?”
Not caring at this point that she was more than likely imagining things, Rachel bristled at the censure in the masculine voice. She held up the baseball bat as though it was a sword, hoping her shaking hands wouldn’t betray her.
“I’m not unprepared for trouble you see” she declared grumpily, “and I came here to stop vandals from damaging you and the others here tonight. Not that I have to answer to you!”
The voice that replied back was amused, yet stern…his fear for her safety more than evident in the forceful words that followed.
“Perhaps not my girl, but someone needs to take you in hand. I doubt you’d fare as well with a bunch of half drunk, juvenile delinquents…even with that claymore your swinging about. Go home now, while you can still sit down!”
Rachel’s cheeks flamed at the images his words provoked, but her Irish temper got the better of her. Standing up and facing Duncan her eyes snapping with blue fire, she began to berate him, punctuating her words with sharp stabs of the baseball bat. Her mouth dropped open in horror as the bat was suddenly grabbed by a granite hand and she was jerked stumbling towards him. Duncan’s face no longer resembled that of a statue…his eyes fairly snapped with his own temper and his mouth was firm with determination. He grabbed Rachel’s upper arm, and as the baseball bat clattered to the stone slab beneath his chair she was unceremoniously dragged across his tweed covered thighs. Her shriek of disbelief and fear was quickly followed by another as she felt her jeans and panties tugged downwards and the cold autumn air on her now bared bottom. Duncan held her easily as she squirmed in desperation, his hand warm where it lay on her upper back. Rachel trembled in nervous anticipation as his words were spoken out loud this time, his amusement at her predicament clearly evident.
“Now lassie, we’ll see if your manner isn’t a bit more chaste when I’m done with you! I’ll not be having you endangering yourself, or misbehaving when you’ve been told what you should be doing!”
At the back of the cemetery a small group of teenagers stood, armed with cans of spray paint and a metal pike. The beers they’d consumed were starting to wear off, and as the alcohol left their systems so too did their belligerent attitudes. This graveyard seemed particularly frightening compared to the others they’d been in that night, and the girls huddled closer to their male companions for reassurance. Out of nowhere a woman’s scream rent the night air, quickly followed by another. One of the teenage girls squeaked in terror as she threw herself into her boyfriends arms, another whimpered where she stood frozen in place. There was a sound like a clap of thunder, and as another high pitched shriek floated to where they stood, the teens turned white faces towards each other and promptly ran for their lives. Hearing a woman pleading “No! Stop! Don’t!” only spurred them on, and they didn’t relax until they were in their cars and racing for home. Their relief was short lived…the police that had been searching for them all night pulled them over for speeding, noticed the paraphernalia they’d used in their vandalism and promptly arrested them all. The officers could only shake their heads and chuckle at the wild stories the teens told of a woman screaming and begging for help, sure it was the beer talking and not reality.
From her precarious perch across Duncan’s knee, Rachel jerked and squealed as each hard swat landed with military precision on her reddening backside. She was definitely regretting her impulsive dash to the cemetery, each desperate plea for an end to her punishment growing louder as the spanking continued. Never had she imagined that this childish correction could hurt so darn much! Tears were filling her eyes and she whimpered in disbelief as another smack left her feeling as though her bottom was on fire and she would never be able to sit down comfortably again. When she was finally reduced to that of a sniffling child begging for mercy, Rachel was lifted from her humiliating position and allowed to sit gingerly on Duncan’s lap. She threw her arms around his neck and burrowed closer to his warmth, breathing in his aroma of wool, sandalwood and pipe smoke. Realizing she could also feel him…his tweed pants scratchy against her hot bottom, his arms around her while one hand stroked her hair, Rachel leaned back to look into his face. It was a handsome face with twinkling blue eyes and a dimple in one cheek that she traced gently with one finger. She could see the color of his hair and clothing but everything was covered with a gray caste, almost as if she was seeing him through a mist or fog.
“How?” was all she could ask in a trembling voice.
Duncan threaded his fingers tenderly through Rachel’s long hair, a bemused smile on his face.
“I’m not sure hinnie*, not really. Perhaps my fear for your safety was enough to bring me here from beyond the grave? Whatever the reason, I’m grateful God has been good enough to allow me to hold you in my arms at long last. You must know I’ve loved you Rachel since the first time I saw you.”
Rachel blushed prettily and pressed herself close to him once more. “I love you too Duncan” was all she was able to get out before his lips claimed hers in a long and passionate kiss. She sighed happily when he finished, her mind whirling with images of the spanking she’d just received and the knowledge that she was loved. The couple spoke softly of the things that were important to them…his past and their hopes for the future. Duncan kept her cradled on his lap, as if he couldn’t get enough of holding her, feeling her soft skin and feminine curves. He teased her about how pink her bottom still was, just so he could watch her other cheeks bloom with rosy color….then kissed her soundly enough to make her eyes sparkle with love.
Morning was fast approaching when Rachel realized that Duncan’s most recent kiss was cool to the touch. They looked into each others eyes with dawning comprehension, fear and sorrow tugging at them as they realized that this idyllic time together would not last. Rachel stood and rearranged her clothing, tears beginning to roll down her face as she looked at the only man she wanted for all time. His smile was for her alone, all the love he felt for her shining in his eyes.
“Dinna cry sweetheart” he begged, “and be thankful for the time we’ve had together. I am. I will always be here for you, watching over you, loving you.” Duncan began to stiffen in his chair, his hands leaving hers and returning to their place on his thighs. “And remember lass, I may not be able to spank you the next time your in need of one…but I will be keeping a tally until the time comes when I again have the opportunity! Dinna endanger yourself again, if you value your bottom and the ability to sit down!”
As Duncan’s words ended so too did his time on earth, his body once again the statue Rachel remembered. She touched the cold, gray granite one last time, as if to assure herself that he was really gone…then stumbling, her eyes awash in tears as she made her way back to her car. She didn’t understand how life could be so cruel, taking away the one man she would always love just as she had finally found him. Leaning her forehead against the steering wheel, Rachel gave in to the sadness that threatened to consume her. And then that familiar voice once again intruded into her mind, his words bringing her a measure of peace.
“Remember my dearest, my dautie* one…I will always be here for you, waiting…”
The funeral was a quiet one, the casket covered with beautiful flowers and the music such as their mother had favored. The man dressed in a tailored black suit did his best to comfort his wife and sister, while keeping one eye on his temporarily subdued children. His youngest daughter looked to be taking after her granny; headstrong, loving and with her glorious mane of red hair. She skipped ahead of them now, her youth and exuberance bringing a smile to the faces of those around them as they walked to the waiting limo. Suddenly his sister stopped and turned to him, her expression anxious.
“Rob, do you think mother was alright at the end? Could she have been getting dementia?”
“What an odd question Susan, why would you say such a thing?” he replied, “I would have said that mom’s mind was sharp as a tack. She never seemed to forget anything.”
His sister shrugged her shoulders and smiled at him sadly. “It’s just….at the end she said some strange things, they made no sense to me.”
“What did she say?” Robert’s wife asked curiously, as she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and reached for her eldest son’s hand.
Susan laughed a little self consciously, then grinned at her brother. “She smiled and I thought she was speaking to me at first….she told me she was ready for her spanking. I asked her what she meant, and she just whispered Duncan. Then she closed her eyes and stopped breathing. It was so odd. Whose Duncan and why would mother be thinking about spanking?”
In the small cemetery across the street from the pretty white church, a chilly breeze blew the last of autumn’s leaves around the headstones. And if you listened closely you could almost hear the sound of a woman’s happy laughter and the male voice that welcomed her….
“Rachel, my love…”
*copyright wolfie 10/2006
*Hinnie-honey or sweet
*Dautie-darling
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
Advanced Spanko
Username: Buenaventura
Post Number: 262
Registered: 04-2006
| | Posted on Monday, October 30, 2006 - 11:14 pm: |
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Damn Wolfie it,s a really a great story.I loved it.Did you pick up some of this on your trip to England?I think I remember that you visited grave yards over there.What a really entertaining story.Kudos!! |
Ma_vie_en_rose
Advanced Spanko
Username: Ma_vie_en_rose
Post Number: 274
Registered: 01-2006
| | Posted on Monday, October 30, 2006 - 11:41 pm: |
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Wolfie, your work's great. Keep it up  |
Wolfie
Prime Spanko
Username: Wolfie
Post Number: 1812
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Tuesday, October 31, 2006 - 10:00 am: |
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Thank you both. No Buenaventura, I simply pictured the cemetary down the road from me, where my parents, grandparents, etc are buried. It can be quite spooky at this time of year. 
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: 1416
Registered: 10-2005
| | Posted on Tuesday, October 31, 2006 - 11:37 am: |
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Wonderful story Wolfie!! |
Prissietl
Spanko
Username: Prissietl
Post Number: 57
Registered: 07-2006
| | Posted on Wednesday, November 01, 2006 - 12:47 am: |
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loved it!!
Once a princess always a princess
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Wolfie
Prime Spanko
Username: Wolfie
Post Number: 1818
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Wednesday, November 01, 2006 - 09:30 am: |
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Thank you, Im glad you both enjoyed it.
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
Advanced Spanko
Username: Cheekychipmunk
Post Number: 171
Registered: 05-2006
| | Posted on Friday, November 10, 2006 - 05:32 pm: |
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Wolfie,
Once again you outdid yourself. Wonderful story.
"Success in almost any field depends more on energy and drive than it does on intelligence."
Sloan Wilson
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