The House on Carol Street

31Oct13

nude“How come only the kids get candy on Halloween,” Stacey moaned.

Caroline rolled her eyes and prepared to repel borders. She knew when Stacey was about to sound off with another of her kooky ideas.

“Why don’t we doll up all sexy like and hit the homesteads around town. I bet if we played it right we might even make some dough off of those folks who didn’t get any candy in,” Stacey said eagerly.

“Come on Stace, you’re talking like a hooker.” Caroline made her ‘it is so gross face.’

At 19 and a month older than Stacey she liked to play the sensible one.

“Besides,” she added, “When we were kids you couldn’t even go up the steps of the old Henson House over on Carol Street.”

“I could too,” Stacey lied.

“Yeah, well I meet you outside at sunset and if you can get anything out of the strange family that are ‘supposed’ to live there then I’ll think about your plan,” Caroline sneered.

Stacey pulled a face. The house still gave her the willies and she could have hoped to start the evening anywhere but there.

“Okay, you’re on,” Stacey said at last, with rather more bravado than she felt.

*

Stacey walked apprehensively towards the house on Carol Street, her long bare legs making dance like side-steps as if she were on roller skates. Her honey-blonde hair was hidden beneath a long gothic black wig with a white stripe running through it. The dress was charcoal and cut short so as to end in a ragged fringe. It was short enough to stand clear of her stocking tops that hung on suspender straps that ran to mid-thigh.

For a moment it looked as if Caroline had stood her up, but then she saw a vampire girl standing at the gate to the Henson House. It wasn’t a sexy costume exactly, as far as Stacey could tell from the distance, but it looked realistic and stylish enough.

“Hey Caroline,” Stacey called over as she picked up her pace.

Vampire Caroline showed no sign of having heard and after a quick look around she strode up the path to the door as if she owned the place.

“Wait for me,” Stacey called and began to run.

The wind picked up in a spooky howl and Stacey had to pause to hold her hem down and by the time she reached the front porch of the house Caroline was nowhere to be seen.

“Darn it,” Stacey said angrily.

The door was as old and battered as she remembered it and in the dark the bronze work demon that formed the knocker took on an even more sinister shade. Stacey shuddered. The house had certainly seen better days, but it was in a good neighbourhood and was just about the largest house around.

Reluctantly Stacey seized the knocker and let it rap. It sounded way too loud to her ears and she felt like running as she had as a kid when the boys had crept up here to play ginger.

“Hey open up, I’m with Caroline,” she called and after a brief hesitation, knocked the knocker again.

For a moment in the dark it looked as if the door had opened by itself. One minute it was hard in her face and the next it swung silently inward leaving a large black oblong in its place.

“Oh shit,” she muttered under breath, and then out of sheer desperation and bravado she offered nervously, “Trick or treat?”

“Who is Caroline?” a dark voice asked.

Stacey nearly fled at the disembodied voice and then she saw the man standing just inside the door; dark grey on grey and black as her eyes adjusted to the gloom inside the hall.

He was tall and of indeterminate age. His suit was of heavy weave and like the house had seen better days. But despite his creepy demeanour he had a warm smile like her grandfather’s; charming even.

“Caroline…” Stacey said tentatively, “She just came in here.”

The man frowned and then smiled again.

“Oh her, yes do come in,” he said.

Stacey suddenly wished he hadn’t said that and felt like fleeing again, but that was just foolish so after taking a breath she followed the man into the hall.

*

“Now what was it you wanted again?” the man said in a creaking voice.

Stacey was at once put in mind of Bella Lugosi and stifled down a giggle.

“Trick or treat?” she said brightly with her sunniest smile.

“Aren’t you a little old for that?” the man said with a slight raise of his left eyebrow.

“Can’t I just have what Caroline is having?” Stacey said weakly.

“Caroline? Oh yes, the one you say you saw come in here.” The man’s face took on a distracted look and he looked away at the cellar door.

“Amelia, oh Amelia,” the man called out towards the door.

Stacey frowned and wondered why he would address the cellar. But after a moment there were sounds of footsteps on creaking wood and the door to the basement slowly opened.

The woman who emerged looked a little like Caroline and was dressed as Stacey had seen before. But it was obvious now that she had been mistaken and that this woman was nearer 30 than 19.

“Oh I thought…” Stacey felt totally embarrassed.

But the man was ignoring her.

“Amelia is it true that you have only just returned from your… stroll?” the man asked the woman.

There was some menace in his voice and Stacey backed away from him.

Amelia was pale, almost too pale, and what Stacey had taken for a costume now looked like an expensive Pre Raphaelite gown. Her eyes were dark so that her pupils were lost within the irises so that it appeared as if she had too impossibly deep holes in her face. Her demeanour too was strange; almost as if she was a teenager and she hung back looking somewhat sheepish under the man’s hard gaze.

“Answer me Amelia,” he said sharply.

Amelia and Stacey cringed together at his tone.

“Yes Sir, I was caught by the…” she shot a glance at Stacey and seemed to pause before adding “Rain.”

Stacey frowned. It hadn’t rained for weeks.

“Last night I stayed at that place you showed me,” Amelia said softly as if lost or standing far, far away.

“That is inexcusable,” the man growled at her, “Go into the front parlour and wait for me.”

Amelia’s eyes darted from the man to Stacey and then she bowed her head in nervous assent before walking as if condemned down the hall.

Stacey felt as if she was intruding now and eyed the front door hopefully. The man followed her gaze and appeared to consider something.

“You wanted something didn’t you,” he said slowly, “A trick, a treat or… what Caroline was having you said? Was that Caroline?”

“I thought it was, sorry my mistake,” Stacey gushed nervously.

“It is no matter, you shall have all three,” the man said silkily, the charming smile had now returned to his face and Stacey relaxed a little. “Come with me.”

The man turned away then and with a strange gait, he went down the hall. It was almost as if he were gliding and only moving his legs to simulate the appearance of walking. But Stacey felt an odd compulsion to follow him, although with the prospect of some goodies, she probably would have anyway. Nevertheless, she did feel somewhat apprehensive about his promise of a trick. That was not how it usually worked, didn’t he know that?

As Stacey followed the man down the hall she noticed how dilapidated the house was. But the decay and the mustiness in their air was totally at odds with the quality of the artwork on the walls. Some of the paintings were originals by familiar artists, although she could not quite recall any names.

The parlour, as they called it, was better appointed and more brightly lit. There was a fire in the grate and the decorations were green marble and mother of pearl, suggesting a late Victorian Art Nouveau style.

Stacey might have looked further but then she saw Amelia. The girl had removed her Pre Raphaelite gown and was standing in the corner and was now barely draped in old-fashioned underwear. The silk slip she had worn was wound-up around her exposed hips and formed a frame for her nude polished alabaster bottom, which was completely bare.

Stacey gasped.

“We are somewhat old fashioned around here and my… ward has behaved recklessly and dangerously staying out all day in the… rain,” the man said pleasantly. “Now since you are here you may assist.”

“Perhaps I…” Stacey was blushing and pointed lamely at the door behind her.

“Nonsense,” the man said charmingly, “You simply must stay for Amelia’s spanking; it will be so exquisitely humiliating for her. Now on the table by the door, pass me the hairbrush you see there.”

Amelia turned her head then and looked back over her shoulder at Stacey with an accusatory look of pure hatred. The woman looked far from meek now and Stacey shuddered.

“The hairbrush, if you please.” It was an order and it was the man now who fixed her with his eyes.

Stacey found the brush and hastily passed it to him before she stood back from the unfolding scene. When she looked again the man was already sitting in an armless chair which had appeared in the middle of the room.

“Now Amelia, come here,” the man intoned.

Amelia turned and offered him a pout, but she obeyed him readily enough. In fact there were no further orders from him as if she knew what to do. The strange woman crossed the room from the corner and lowering herself to her knees folded herself neatly over his seated lap.

“Such a broad round target, don’t you think?” he chuckled to Stacey.

Stacey just gaped. Amelia’s bottom was astonishing, preternatural even, and for a moment the two of them looked like some strange statue carved in stone paused in the punitive act.

Then the man’s arm rose slowly like a conductor about to begin a concert and the brush hung in the air. Then it fell sharply with a crack before rising again.

There was a smooth dark pink oval across both curves of Amelia’s perfect bottom, which as Stacey watched, slowly flooded with an ever deepening blood-red blush. Then, after a moment hung on end, the brush fell again with a louder crack that made Amelia gasp.

“Amelia you have been warned many times to get home before sunrise, now you will be soundly spanked as you so richly deserved. Afterwards you will go back to the corner and remain there until midnight. Is that understood?” The man’s voice was dark and commanding now.

Stacey was too dazed to wonder why a grown woman should be forbidden to go out, especially during the day, but she was in no doubt that Amelia would obey him for a while.

The brush rose and fell six or seven times in quick succession until Amelia’s bottom was a hard polished red all over and dark tears streamed down the gasping woman’s face. The streaming mascara must have been the old-fashioned kind, for in the light of the fire it looked almost like blood on Amelia’s cheeks.

“Please Master I’m sorry,” Amelia wailed.

But it was to no avail. The spanking continued for some considerable time until Amelia’s bottom was thoroughly chaffed and extensively welted. Finally the man set down the brush and allowed the now sobbing Amelia to stand.

“Hush now, be a good girl,” the man soothed and then to Stacey he added, “She will be as right as the moon in a night or two, have no fear.”

Stacey nodded in awe. Then as she watched, Amelia shuffled unsteadily back to the corner with her slip held to her hip so as to keep her bare bottom revealed to anyone in the room.

“Now you have had your treat, you shall have what Amelia had as you deserve and indeed as you requested,” the man said invitingly as he beckoned Stacey to him.

“Oh come on you can’t…” Stacey offered uncertainly. If she ran now she could get through the door before the man gained his feet.

But before she could act the man was somehow already between her and her escape. He pointed at the chair and made a gesture with his hand that suggested she should undress.

Stacey’s protests died on her lips and woodenly she began to obey his silent command.

“I will be gentle with you,” he whispered from his place back on the chair.

Stacey self-consciously let her panties fall to her ankles and then nodded. She had no choice.

It wasn’t until she was across his lap with her bottom upturned to the ceiling that it really sunk in what was happening.

“Hey you can’t do this to…” her words were cut short by a blasting sting to her exposed behind that robbed her breath.

The spanking was slow and steady and sounded like thunderclaps on her bottom. But the only rain was that which sprung from her eyes as the burn in her tail built to impossible levels and she could no longer contain her distress.

“Ow, ooh, yah,” she howled, or something like it.

In any case she bore the spanking with much less dignity than Amelia had managed.

“You know I could make you return here every evening for the rest of your life,” the man said absently as he spanked on. “Imagine that, you would look quite fine as an ornament in my corner for the next decade or two; when the corner was vacant of course. But then Amelia would want her share of your misery and she can be quite imaginative. She has an ivory cane somewhere from when I first trained her, don’t you Amelia?”

Amelia may have acknowledged the question but Stacey was too lost in bawling her head off to notice.

“I am sure you are sorry already, but I am going to spank you to your utmost and as you are a strong girl that will take some time I feel,” the man told her in a lilting voice.

As predicted the spanking lasted well into the evening, by which time Stacey was begging incoherently and promising anything for just some respite.

“Very well, go and stand in the corner opposite Amelia,” he said, “I want you calm before I show you that trick I mentioned.”

*

Stacey felt utterly cowed as she got dressed. Her bottom felt like it had road burn and it was throbbing awfully. Amelia had not taken her nose from the corner, although Stacey just knew that somehow the woman was watching every move she made.

“Now let me show you that trick I mentioned,” the man whispered.

As Stacey turned he enveloped her in his arms and she felt herself go limp. The last thing she remembered were the words, “Come again every Halloween my little treat.”

The next thing Stacey knew she was standing outside in Carol Street under a waning moon. There was a hush in the air and she knew the town beyond was asleep. Her bottom throbbed dreadfully as if she had been dragged behind a truck sitting on hard gravel for an hour or two.

Caroline was a no-show eh, she thought wanly and then broke into a run for home. No more trick or treats for me, she promised as she left the turn to Carol Street behind. But later as she offered her bare behind to the bathroom mirror and puzzled over the throbbing purple rash that stained her entire bottom she fancied she heard the words in her head, “See you next year my little treat.”

Happy Halloween.



9 Responses to “The House on Carol Street”

  1. 1 paul1510

    Damian,
    very suitable. 🙂
    Paul.

  2. Good Halloween tale, DJ. I once chanced upon a re-write of Dracula in which the author envisioned the prince not as a bloodsucking fiend but as a creature who drew sustenance from his victims through a combination of pain and sexual arousal. I thought it a very interesting concept.

  3. 3 saram

    Such a lovely treat. Thank you!

  4. Love it!!

  5. Very Good! …Loved it! …Perfect reading for this particular time (Halloween) of the year!!

    “See you next year my little treat.” indeed!

    W

  6. 6 DJ

    Thank you all – vampires and the adult sire thing does seem to work 😉

  7. 7 SexyGlen

    Thanks for sharing your story 🙂


  1. 1 chross.blogt.ch

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: