By Flatfish

“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. 

“No way!” 

“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 is yours.” 

“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 angry.” 

“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 very close.” 

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 this!” 

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 the bed. 

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. 

 “How 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 the price.” 

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 Hall.” 

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.”