By Flatfish 

Sceptical about ghosts?  A few years ago I was pretty sceptical myself but then my life was changed forever by the extraordinary events I’m about to recount. 

It was 31st October 2003, Halloween. I was a twenty-five year old psychology student in my second year at Ripon college and I had taken a departure from my main line of study and signed up for a new course the college was piloting in parapsychology. I thought it would be interesting. We were barely a month into the semester when the tutor announced that we were all in need of practical experience and we were to take our newly developing skills and head out on a ghost hunt. 

There were a dozen students in the class and we split into four groups, each assigned to one of the reputedly haunted locations dotted around the North York Moors. I was lucky. In my group, my two companions were Adam, a student of similar age to myself, and Beth, the class beauty. Beth was the sort of girl that most of us admired from afar, beautiful but aloof. She was nineteen years old, long dark hair, curvy, pretty and sexy but highly intelligent and studious, an image that was emphasised by her serious demeanour as she viewed the world through her designer spectacles. If nothing else, a night in a haunted house with Beth would be a night to remember. But Beth seemed oblivious to the hormonal effect she was having on Adam and myself. She was an ardent believer in the afterlife and she looked upon the adventure ahead with focused solemnity. 

Our assignment was an old converted mill house, occupied at the time by a young married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Thornton. They had contacted the parapsychology unit at the college because they were being relentlessly harassed by mysterious goings on including some strange changes in Mr. Thornton’s behaviour. Mr. Thornton was convinced the house must be haunted. Mrs. Thornton was sceptical and she was preparing to leave her husband. 

On the evening of Halloween we arrived at the house at around six o-clock and the couple trustingly handed over the keys. The college had asked them to leave us alone to carry out our investigation, so they climbed into their car aiming to spend the night in a local hotel. I remember speculating at the time that they must have had some sort of fight. Mr. Thornton looked cowed and wracked with guilt while his wife seemed to be smouldering with anger. She walked stiffly and lowered herself very carefully onto a cushion that Mr. Thornton had hurriedly placed on the passenger seat of the car. It was clearly very difficult for her to sit and she flashed her husband an accusing look as he gently closed the car door for her. 

Anxious to get started, we waved farewell to the couple and set about carrying our equipment into the house, never giving a thought to what might have befallen Mrs. Thornton in that old and spooky building. We had barely set foot through the doorway when the first of the night’s strange events struck and stopped us in our tracks. A dark oppressive atmosphere swept over us, almost tangible yet not something we could identify. It wasn’t a physical sensation like a smell or a temperature drop. It was just a feeling, acutely intense and threatening. I felt my heartbeat race and I trembled as a mounting wave of irrational and uncontrollable fear swelled up inside me. Beth turned pale but the effect on the two of us was nothing compared to how it affected Adam. He dropped the box he was carrying and ran from the house. We could hear him outside retching. But stranger still was the fact that when Adam left the building, the terrifying atmosphere faded away.  It was as if the house just didn’t want him there. 

We joined Adam outside. He was recovering but there was no way he could set foot back in the house. It seemed Beth and I would just have to carry out the investigation alone. 

As the evening progressed the two of us unpacked the equipment and started setting it up. We had full spectrum video cameras, EVP and EMF readers, in fact, the works. As Beth busied herself tuning the various sensors and setting up the lighting I started to become conscious of a powerful urge growing inside me. I had seen that Beth was a very attractive girl when we first met but now my feelings were becoming obsessive. She was gorgeous. My eyes ran over her body as she bent and twisted around the equipment; her firm round breasts stretching her tee-shirt, her legs, long and shapely with her skin tight jeans clinging to them, and her bottom… oh her bottom… it was magnificent. 

Beth needed a socket to plug in a multi-spectrum lamp and she found one tucked away in a corner behind a large easy chair. She knelt on the seat with her back to me and reached over the back of the chair. My knuckles turned white as I fought to control myself. I was fixated on the seat of those jeans as they stretched tighter and tighter. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as she reached further and further over the chair, stretching her arm out to reach the socket. I knew it was wrong, I knew it would be an assault but I just had to smack that fantastic bottom.  Suddenly in a last bid attempt to connect the lamp, Beth pushed herself up and over until she was stretched completely over the chair back, her bottom raised high, wriggling as she reached out to plug in the equipment. It was just too much. I couldn’t fight the urge any longer and I almost ran across the room raising my hand high and bringing it down in an almighty thwack on that beautiful, naughty, inviting bottom. 

Beth screamed and tried to push herself back up but I wasn’t anywhere near finished. I had opened a floodgate of desire and completely lost control. I put my hand in the small of her back and pushed her back into position. Then ignoring her howling and cursing and with her feet kicking at the seat of the chair I spanked her, long, hard and without mercy. 

Neither of us had any concept of the amount of time that passed as smack after smack rained down on Beth’s stinging bottom but the video we had set up showed the spanking lasted a full five minutes. Five minutes of fast, hard, non-stop spanking that left Beth bawling like a soundly punished brat. 

Finally, the mist of rage that had driven my right arm until my muscles ached and my hand throbbed drifted away and my sanity returned. Confused and plagued with guilt I released Beth and stepped away allowing her to slowly push herself upright. I couldn’t explain or excuse my outrageous behaviour. It was completely out of character. I was all set to apologise, plead temporary insanity and beg for her forgiveness but strangely it wasn’t necessary. As Beth’s head came back into view she stopped her furious cursing. She knelt quietly on the chair, sniffling and red faced. Her glasses had flown off during the spanking and she put them back on now with trembling hands then gently reached back and clutched her stinging bottom, barely daring to rub. She turned her head towards me but she didn’t meet my gaze. Her face was streaked with tears and makeup. I expected her to fly at me and claw my eyes out but she didn’t. She hung her head and looked almost contrite, as though she believed she deserved to be spanked. 

“Have you learned your lesson, girl?” I heard myself say. 

“Y…Yes sir,” she mumbled. 

“Speak up girl,” I snapped. “Or must I take a hairbrush to your bottom.” I had no idea where this dialogue came from but I felt compelled to say it. 

“Oh no. Please sir, not the hairbrush,” she wailed. 

Her pleading seemed to appeal to a wicked side of my personality, a side I’d never seen before. I smiled at the thought of turning her over my knee. “Oh yes,” I snarled. “I think the hairbrush is exactly what you need. Go and fetch it at once.” 

Beth’s lip trembled and fresh tears trickled down her cheeks but she walked over to a side table, still gently rubbing her bottom, and picked up a large wooden hairbrush. I hadn’t noticed it before but Beth knew exactly where to find it. 

I sat down in the middle of the couch and Beth brought the hairbrush to me. She handed it over then fumbled with the waistband of her jeans. She dragged them open and then with a sexy wiggle she pushed them down to her knees. 

“Please don’t punish me sir,” she begged. “I’ll be good now. I promise.” 

“You always promise,” I sneered. “But you are not good are you? You are exceedingly bad. And what happens to bad girls like you?” 

“They get spanked sir,” she mumbled shyly, “very, very soundly.” I’m sure there was a mischievous note of desire in her voice.” 

Without further words, Beth shuffled forward and stretched face down over my knee. Her bottom, already harshly punished, contrasted a fiery scarlet against the white of her panties. I should have felt sorry for what I’d done but somehow the sight of those well-spanked cheeks just seemed to inflame my desire to spank her even more. 

I put the hairbrush down for a moment and ran my hand gently over the sore reddened flesh, feeling the intense radiating heat and causing her to flinch and give a suppressed squeal through clenched teeth. I took hold of the waistband of her panties, easing them over her bottom and dragged them down her thighs. There was no mistaking the fact now, that she was highly aroused. I slipped my fingers into the wetness between her thighs and she squirmed and gave a quiet moan of pleasure. 

Withdrawing my hand, I picked up the hairbrush and stroked her firm round cheeks with the cold hard wood. Then taking a strong hold of her waist I raised the brush and smacked it down hard against her bare bottom. Beth’s howls filled the house as I set about giving her the spanking of her life and making sure she wouldn’t be able sit comfortably for a long, long time. 

When the punishment finally ended I hauled Beth back onto her feet, spun her around and pulled her back, causing her to yelp as she dropped painfully into my lap. She flung her arms around my neck and pressed her lips hard to mine and we kissed more intensely than I had ever known. When we came up for air I scooped her into my arms and carried her up to the bedroom. I’m afraid we abused Mr. and Mrs. Thornton’s hospitality for a couple of hours, enjoying fantastic sex in their bed. 

In the morning we wound up our investigation. Neither of us said much about the night before. We were both more than a little embarrassed and Beth was more than a little sore. We collected our data and over the next few days we edited out the bits that weren’t suitable for public disclosure. We explained away the gaps as equipment failure. 

So there it is, the plane truth about that unforgettable Halloween in 2003. What do you think? Ghosts and goblins, paranormal possession, or were we just two young adults thrown together in extraordinary circumstances and giving in to suppressed sexual desires? There is no doubt in our minds that the extraordinary events that overtook Beth and I that night were driven by the presence of spirits from long dead residents. It emerged through later research that in the seventeen hundreds the house had been owned by Jebediah Ramsdon and his beautiful wife Marie who history records as wild and wilful. I like to think that Beth and I somehow provided a catalyst for Jebediah and Marie to once again act out one of their sexual fantasies and to share their joy with us. Oddly enough, the events that night struck a chord with the two of us that lived on after the investigation. After Halloween we became a serious item, eventually getting married, and I’m happy to say that spanking still fills our nights of passion to this day.