“Welcome back ladies and gentlemen. Tonight we are
broadcasting live from one of England’s most haunted stately homes,
‘Wyke House’. In the first half of our show we saw some spectacular
happenings in the kitchen and servant quarters. Now Lisette and the
‘Really Haunted’ team have moved up to the main house. Lisette has
challenged our celebrity guests, top girl band ‘Spoiled Brats’, to
stay in the Great Hall with our resident medium John, while she and the
rest of the team return here to the studio. Will they dare accept?”
Down in the Great Hall the three young celebrities
and Lisette debated the challenge.
“Oh come on Suzi.”
“It’s alright for you Jo. You’re a sceptic. But
I believe in this stuff and I’m scared.”
“Me and Jo will right here with you Suzi,” said
Kat. “And we have John. There is nothing to be scared of.”
“Have to rush you,” said Lisette. “The choice
“Ok," mumbled Suzi reluctantly. "We'll do it.”
Lisette, her team of paranormal investigators and the
TV crew left the hall, leaving two remotely controlled cameras
transmitting the scene. The three girls and the medium stood in the eerie
silence, watching the door that Lisette had disappeared through. Suzi
nervously chewed her lip.
John broke the silence and the three girls turned to
face him. At six feet tall, the flamboyant medium dominated the space. He
paced swiftly around. His long leather coat flapped behind him and his
broad brimmed hat cast his thickly bearded face into shadow. “There
is a presence here,” he hissed. “A man. An evil, evil, man. He has no
respect for women. I can feel his lust. He wants to hurt you. Don’t be
afraid ladies. He is here in spirit. He cannot touch you.”
Jo turned and shouted into the empty space of the
Great Hall. “So you want to hurt us do you? You slime ball. Show
yourself. Or are you too
scared you coward.”
“No! Shush!” said Suzi. “You’ll make him
“Rubbish!” said Kat. “Come on. Show yourself
you creep! Hurt is if you think you can.”
At the far end of the hall a door burst open causing
the girls to jump and stare around in panic. A sweet sickly odour crept
into the air and the temperature dropped to an icy low.
John suddenly took a deep rasping breath, struggling for air. Panicking and fighting with himself, he thrashed
about wildly. “I, I can’t stop him. He's too strong. No! No! Nooooo!”
As quickly as it had started, silence and calm
descended on the room. John smiled wickedly and turned to face the three girls.
They stared at him and around the room, fear filling their eyes.
“Is he still here?” whispered Suzi.
“Still here?” said John. “Oh yes, yes. He is
Suddenly, without warning John turned and fled down
the hall. “Quick! Follow me!”
The girls hesitated. They knew they were supposed to
stay in the Great Hall, but they were supposed to stay with John and they
were too terrified to stay alone. Kat set off after him. Suzi and Jo
followed. The three girls struggled to catch up as their designer heels left them stumbling uncomfortably. John disappeared through double
doors into a dark corridor. Kat reached it just in time to see him enter a
side room. Quickly she followed him. As she entered the room the door
slammed shut behind her and she heard its heavy lock clunk into place.
The room was pitch black. Kat fumbled around feeling
for a light switch, calling into the darkness. There was no answer. She
found the switch and the lights came on. John was nowhere to be seen. She
was alone in a wood panelled bedroom. One piece of furniture dominated the
room. It was a huge, dark oak, four-poster-bed. six feet wide and at least
seven feet tall. Kat turned and tried to leave. The heavy wooden door
wouldn’t move. She hammered on the dense wood and shouted for help but
no one came.
When Suzi and Jo reached the corridor there was no
sign of John or Kat. They ran to the far end where a second corridor
disappeared into darkness to the right and left.
“Which way now?” said Jo. “Suzi, you wait here
in case anyone comes and I’ll just have a quick look down here.
“OK said Suzi,” nervously. “But be quick!”
Jo disappeared off to the left. Suzi waited,
trembling, her eyes flitting from one dark shadow to another. After a few seconds,
she thought she heard sounds coming from one of the rooms. She wondered
over to the door and listened. It was a muffled voice. It sounded like
John laughing. She tried the door. It was unlocked so she entered. She
found herself in the library. The walls were lined with books. She stepped
further into the room then turned quickly as the door clicked shut behind
her. She was alone and she realised that the door she had come through was
also disguised as a bookshelf. She could no longer see where the door had
been and even if she found it she had no idea how to open it. There was
very little furniture in the room, just a few easy chairs and a coffee
table in one corner. Oddly, one large solid wood upright chair had been
carefully placed in the centre of the room. Suzi sat on it and gazed
around, wondering what to do next.
Meanwhile, Jo had slowed to a walk. She reached the
end of the corridor and found a strong wooden door. With difficulty
she pulled it open and found herself outside in a courtyard. A fleeting
movement caught her eye and she saw John, coat flapping wildly in the
breeze, disappear into the old stable. She wondered whether to go back and
fetch Suzi but she decided to pin John down first. She crossed the
courtyard and followed him into the ancient stable block.
Out in the makeshift TV control room panic had broken
out. They were supposed to be broadcasting live footage of “Spoiled
Brats” and John in the Great Hall but they had lost contact. No one
could explain the sudden loss of power. Technicians were now rushing
around trying to trace the fault, unaware that the celebrities had now
disappeared into the vast maze of the house.
In the dark stable Jo made her way carefully across
the cluttered floor. She couldn’t see John anywhere. A wooden fence,
chest high, separated two empty stalls. Jo placed her foot on the bottom
rail and pulled herself up, leaning forward to peer into the darkness.
Suddenly, from out of the shadows, two strong hands grabbed her wrists and
yanked them off the top rail. She plunged forward and landed heavily over
the fence. The wind was knocked out of her and her arms flailed wildly on
one side while her legs kicked helplessly on the other.
Before she could recover, John pulled her wrists
together and looped a rope around them, pulling it tight before passing it
around the bottom rail and up and around Jo’s slim waist securing her to
the fence. She was trapped. The more she pulled at the rope, the tighter
she became bound to the fence. John stepped out of the shadows and admired
his handiwork. Jo was 24, slim but curvaceous, her body toned through
vigorous dancing on stage and expensive celebrity pampering. Her bottom,
now uppermost, was covered by the fine leather of her designer pants. The
thin leather, already tailored to mould to the contours of her firm round
bottom, was now stretched into a second skin.
“John! What the hell do you think you’re
doing?” she screamed, struggling against the rope.
John moved further into the light. Jo lifted her head
and through her long dark hair she could just make out the medium. He was
smiling. He had picked up a leather riding crop and he tapped it
menacingly against his hand. “John?” he said. “Ah yes John. The
vessel whose body I have taken. I’m afraid I must disappoint you my
dear. My name is Morgan, Sir
Morgan Fitzwilliam. I believe you know me as Slime Ball, Creep and Coward.
“Look John… uh… uh.. Morgan or whatever your
name is. I didn’t mean any of those things. Please, let me go. We can
talk about this.”
“Oh no my dear. The time for talking is long past.
Now is the time for action.” Sir Morgan swished the riding crop through
the air. “Yes my dear.” He licked his lips in anticipation of the
pleasure to come. “Now is the time for punishment!”
Jo remembered the name Sir Morgan from earlier in the day. He was an 18th century owner of Wyke Hall. He was infamous for his sadistic treatment of young women; a practice that had eventually lead to his violent death at the hands of an angry father.
Now a vengeful spirit occupying the body of the
helpless medium, he slowly moved around the trapped girl. She tried to
follow him with her eyes but her upturned body blocked the view.
“Please!” she screamed, kicking her legs and struggling. “Don’t do
Sir Morgan took his position, feet apart, ready to
deliver a merciless thrashing to the beautiful target before him. Jo
flinched as Sir Morgan took aim for his first stroke. Touching the riding
crop against her trembling bottom.
“No! No! Pleeeeze!” cried Jo. Her pleading
quickly changed to screams as Sir Morgan pulled back his arm and
thwacked the riding crop with all his strength across her undefended
bottom. A blazing line of pain scored its way across her flesh.
“Harlot! Strumpet! Whore! Slut! I …will…
teach… you… to … respect… your…betters!” Each word was driven
home with a resounding whack! and an agonised scream. Jo’s legs kicked
wildly and her hips ground against the fence as she tore at her ropes,
unable to do anything to ease the fire that engulfed her bottom.
Sir Morgan stopped to catch his breath and ran his
hand gleefully over Jo’s bottom, feeling the criss-cross of angry raised
welts through the thin designer leather. Jo was crying uncontrollably and
bawled even louder when Sir Morgan laughed and slapped her burning rump.
Sir Morgan dropped the riding crop and reached around Jo to find the
button that fastened the waistband of her trousers.
“Oh! No no no,” cried Jo, kicking and struggling
against the ropes. But Morgan gripped her waistband and tore it apart. The
button and zip offered little resistance and in seconds he had yanked the
expensive leather pants down to her knees. To his delight Sir Morgan found
that Jo’s bottom was now naked. She had chosen to go without panties
rather than risk an unwelcome panty line on camera.
“Of all the wretches that tormented me this
evening, you were the worst and you shall pay the highest price.” Sir
Morgan reached down and again picked up the riding crop.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” screamed Jo. “No,
please, not on my bare bottom.”
Morgan grinned and swished the riding crop through
the air. Taking his position again he swiftly delivered a hard thwack
across the centre of Jo’s bottom. She howled as the crop seared her bare
flesh, stinging particularly hard where the new welt crossed the
underlying crisscross of earlier marks. A second blow struck a centimetre
lower and a third lower still. Taking careful aim Sir Morgan landed the
next three whacks swiftly across the most sensitive part of Jo’s bottom,
the soft lower cheeks. Jo kicked, screamed and cried but could do nothing
to ease the unbearable pain. With a wild laugh Morgan threw down the crop
and stormed away, leaving Jo bound to the fence, crying bitterly and
longing to be able to reach back and soothe her stinging cheeks.
In the bedroom Kat had given up hope of anyone
hearing her and was sitting gloomily on the bed waiting for someone to
find her. A loud click caused her to twist around. A panel in the wall
slid open and John emerged.
“John! Thank God!” she cried, leaping to her
feet. “Where have you been? I’ve been trapped in here for ages.”
“Not John,” said Sir Morgan. “Sir Morgan
Fitzwilliam at your service.”
“Do not look so surprised my child. You and the
other trollops called me from my grave; insisted that I appear and spat
your insults at me. You challenged me to hurt you and now there is a price
to be paid for your insolence.” As he spoke, Sir Morgan wondered over to
the four-poster and pulled out the pillows, piling them in the middle of
Turning, Sir Morgan paced forward and Kat backed
away. Panicking she turned and tried again to open the locked door. She
screamed as Sir Morgan wrapped a strong arm around her waist and lifted
her off her feet. Roughly he carried the struggling singer over to the bed
and threw her face down over the pile of pillows. Before she could turn he
climbed astride her, pinning her to the bed. Her strength was no match for
his and he swiftly produced lengths of rope and tied her wrists to the two
posts at the head of the bed. Climbing off her, he admired his prisoner.
Kat was small and slim with short dark pixi like hair
and a pretty face. Her tight
jumper clung to her contours emphasising her narrow waist and the swell of
her bottom. Sir Morgan wrapped his arm around her legs and pulled off her
ankle boots. Them pushing her jumper up to her waist and ignoring her
struggles and protests he unfastened her jeans and pealed them down over
the soft curve of her bottom, revealing her white silk panties and bronzed
thighs. Finally with a swift tug he whipped her jeans off completely and
threw them into a corner.
Grabbing Kat’s ankles, Morgan secured them to an
ornate rail that ran along the foot of the bed. Then he disappeared back
into the secret passage. Kat tried to twist around to see where he had
gone but the ropes securely held her. She could feel a cold draft from the
open wall panel blowing gently on her exposed bottom. Seconds later Morgan
returned carrying a multi-tailed whip. Kat screamed for help but no one
came. Morgan laughed and shook loose the tails of his whip.
“Now my dear. Do not fear my little cat too much.
It has had its claws pulled so it won’t flay the beautiful skin from
your bones. No, indeed it will excite your flesh with such intense
pleasure that you will beg for more.
Morgan rested the tails of the whip on Kats left
ankle then slowly drew it up her trembling leg and over her silken thigh
until he reached her bottom. Then with a sudden flick of his arm he lashed
at the exposed flesh sending the sting of a dozen bees into her rounded
rump. Kat screamed. Before the fire could subside she felt the tickle of
the whip again as Morgan teased it along her right leg then with a second
flick he peppered her bottom once again with the excruciating pain.
do like my little toy my dear?” said Morgan, admiring the red speckles
that now covered the exposed lower cheeks of Kat’s bottom.
Kat pulled frantically against the ropes. Tears ran
down her face wetting the bed. “Let me go you insane bastard,” she
screamed. “And stop the stupid pretence John. Do you really think anyone
will believe you’re Morgan Fitzwilliam?”
Sir Morgan’s manner changed immediately. “You
disappoint me trollop. We could have had such fun. But since you have
chosen to continue your insolence I shall have the fun and you shall pay
Morgan took hold of Kat’s panties and yanked them
savagely down her thighs. Then picking up his whip he set about delivering
a punishing thrashing that would leave her sorry she had ever shown him
such disrespect. Within seconds Kat’s bottom was blazing. Sir Morgan no
longer tried to pleasure the bound singer. He raised the whip high and
lashed it down hard over and over again on her bare flesh, delighting in
Kat’s cries and howls and the sight of her writhing, stinging backside
as it blushed vibrant red and sore.
Suddenly the punishment stopped. Sir Morgan realised
that time was short and he still had one young pristine bottom to enjoy
and that young lady was locked in the library. Casting the whip aside he
left Kat tied to the bed, bawling. He disappeared into the secret passage
and the oak panel slid shut behind him.
The library was at the back of the house and close to
the stable block. Although there were no windows, Suzi had been able to
hear everything that had taken place in the stable and the bedroom. Now
listening with mounting dread, she could hear Sir Morgan coming towards
the library, muttering to himself that it would be a long time before
these wenches would be able to sit. Suzi’s hands automatically went to
her bottom. She felt like a naughty teenager, sent to her room to wait for
her dad to come home and spank her. Suddenly a section of the bookshelves
swung open and Sir Morgan entered the room. Suzi backed away.
“Wait…wait Sir Morgan,” pleaded Suzi.
“Please, I haven’t done anything wrong. I didn’t shout at you, I
told the others to stop. Please let me go.”
“Of course I will let you go,” said Morgan, with
a wicked smile. “But first my dear you must be spanked!” Sir Morgan
put up his hands and took a step backward, mimicking Suzi. “Oh Sir
Morgan,” he laughed. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Ha! Don’t you
see my dear, for a man of my particular tastes, there is no greater
pleasure than the sweet injustice of punishing the innocent.”
Suzi started to cry. Her last shred of hope had been
torn away and now there was nowhere to go. Her fate was sealed.
Suzi was the youngest member of Spoiled Brats.
Nineteen years old. The pretty singer was small, slim and athletic. Long
blond hair cascaded over her shoulders. She wore a short sleeveless dress
that hugged the profile of her firm breasts and narrow waist and flared
out from her hips. It was the shortest dress Sir Morgan had ever seen;
scarcely long enough to cover her delectable bottom. This girl was dressed
for a spanking.
Sir Morgan strode forward and grabbed Suzi by the
wrist. He dragged the struggling girl over to the upright chair that he
had earlier placed in the middle of the room. He pulled her close and
wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her off the floor, then with a
flick of his coat and a scream from Suzi, he sat down and flung the
terrified girl over his knee.
Suzi could hardly believe what was happening. Face
down over Sir Morgan’s knee, she knew that her flared dress had lifted
revealing her panties. She wished she had put shorts under her skirt but
she had wanted to look sexy in front of the TV cameras, making the most of
her shapely, bronzed legs. Now Sir Morgan simply brushed the skirt aside.
Morgan took a moment to delight in the sight of
Suzi’s perfect bottom. Then conscious that time was short he raised his
hand and began to spank. He was quite gentle at first. Slapping mainly
against Suzi’s black cotton panties.
Suzi writhed under the gentle sting. As Morgan began
to smack harder the pain increased. Morgan moved his attention to the bare
flesh of Suzi’s lower cheeks and with each stinging smack came a tingle
of sexual excitement. This was a new experience for Suzi but one that had
dominated her fantasies. She had always thought of spanking as a
punishment but it was a punishment she had longed for. Now Morgan was
playing her like a musical instrument, coaxing out feelings that she had
always kept hidden.
Morgan could see Suzi’s reaction and he laughed at
the pleasure of finding a kindred spirit amongst these wicked girls. He
slipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties and Suzi raised her
hips so he could slip them down to her knees, revealing her reddening bare
bottom. Morgan rested a hand on Suzi’s thighs and she opened her legs
slightly allowing him to slip his fingers into her and excite her even
more. After a moment Morgan pulled back his hand and commenced the
spanking. Harder now, increasing in intensity as Suzi writhed more and
more, rubbing herself against his thighs. Shameless now, Suzi slipped a
hand beneath her belly and as Morgan matched her perfectly with an
onslaught of merciless whacks she brought herself to climax.
Morgan gave a hearty laugh and pulled Suzi up from
his knee. She stood trembling, her pretty face streaked with tears and
flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. Her panties had
dropped to her ankles and Morgan was overwhelmed with the erotic thought
of her bare scarlet bottom under her tiny dress. He started to undo his
trousers. For over two centuries he had haunted Wyke house but without a
body he had been impotent. Now in the body of this medium a massive
erection threatened to burst from his trousers. He must have this wench.
Suddenly the clock in the tower sounded the first
stroke of midnight; midnight on Halloween, the witching hour. Morgan knew
that on the final stroke his time in this world would end.
“No!” screamed Morgan. No not yet!” He
struggled with the unfamiliar clothes; pulling and fumbling in his haste,
but the clock steadily rang out the unstoppable passage of time. Morgan
could feel his power slipping away as John reclaimed his body. On the
final stroke, he let out a mournful wail, the library door swung open and
Morgan’s evil spirit disappeared once more into the house.
In the TV control room the monitors returned to life
and the cameras started to broadcast. In the Dining Hall where a makeshift
studio had been set up, the show's presenter breathed a sigh of relief and
turned from the invited audience to the camera.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to Really
Haunted. I apologise for the loss of service due to a technical hitch but
I understand we can go back now to our celebrity guests in the Main
A view of the main hall filled a large screen. The
audience gave a mystified murmur when the camera showed an empty room. In
the control room the operators started to panic and began switching from
room to room searching for the missing celebrities. First to be found was
Kat in the Morgan Bedroom. The
camera found her still tied face down on the four-poster bed, her jumper
was pushed up, her jeans were missing and her panties were around her
thighs. A pile of pillows under her hips raised her bare bottom where the
evidence of her whipping still glowed red. Next to be found was Jo, bent
over the fence in the stable, kicking and struggling against her ropes
with the telltale marks of the riding crop striping her naked backside.
Finally the camera came to the library where John was standing stunned and
Suzi was easing her panties over her sore bottom.
From a dark window the spectre of Sir Morgan watched
as the three celebrities were escorted from the house and John was taken
away in handcuffs.
“What a splendid night,” he mused. “I do hope
they will come again next year.”