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From: "Y. Lee Coyote" <See.signature.line@mail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} St. Halloween Ordeal   (M/t, spank, ghosts)
Date: Mon, 27 Oct 2003 17:10:03 -0500
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St. Halloween Ordeal   (M/t, spank, ghosts)

The following story is fiction.  It contain a scene of a man/boy
spanking.  If such a subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a
minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited
without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if
complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments -- pro and con, including
constructive criticism, and suggestions.  E-mail: YLeeCoyote@mail.com


Halloween Ordeal
By
Y. Lee Coyote

Ray, actually, Rodger A. Young, walked slowly up the hill to the
deserted house -- the old Linington mansion.  It was the first year that
he was not going trick or treating like a little kid looking for candy
but at this moment he wished he was.  With every step his pace slowed
and his heart beat faster.  He was scared as a pre-teen could be.  It
was his great misfortune to have been born on the thirty-first of
October -- Halloween.  Until now it was great -- major parties every
year and lots of presents.  This year was different.  Now he was turning
into a teen and he had to accept the challenge -- to stay in the
deserted mansion the night of his birthday -- in order to be accepted by
the older guys.  They were watching.  He was hoping the ghosts would be
out partying all night.

But inside, deep inside his heart, he knew that would not be the case.

He could not help but to think of the stories that were constantly told
about the events in the house.  The murders; the mad occupants; the long
list of horrors rivaling those of Hollywood movies.  Which were really
true and which were exaggerations was unknown.

The guys would be watching from the outside; or so they said.  He had to
document that he was there and awake with his camera.  At least once an
hour he was required to snap a picture of the town clock.  It would have
been easier to wait for the Great Pumpkin in a nice safe pumpkin field.
It was a real autumn night -- the leaves already off the most of the
trees and being blown about by the strong winds.  The dark and menacing
clouds hid the stars and even the full moon most of the time.  Even
thunder storms were expected.

It was not a night a for boy to visit a haunted house.  But he had to do
it or be scorned evermore.

The gate creaked.  Shutters banged in the strong winds.  The flagstones
of the walk rocked.  The front porch steps shifted under his feet.  The
door hinges were rusty and resisted his advance.  His heart was in his
mouth as he forced the door closed and walked into the hall.  He lit the
candle.  Dust and cobwebs (what the hell were _cobs_?)  were everywhere.
He looked out the window.  The others noted the light and smiled.  He
looked for the clock but the view was obstructed.  He had been shown
pictures taken by others.  What had he missed?  There must be an answer
and he had to find it quick.  Then he realized -- he would have to go
upstairs.

Yes, upstairs.  To the front bedroom.  To the murder room according to
the stories.  He felt a chill go down his spine.

The inside stairs creaked more than the porch steps had.  He noticed the
old portraits as he slowly went up the steps.  The wind was whistling
through cracks.  At the top he looked about.  It was worse than the main
floor.  "I must be brave.  There are no such things as ghosts." he said
to himself.  He was not convincing himself.  He entered the front room
to the south and looked for the clock tower.  Blocked.  He would have to
go to the north side.

That was where it was said the murder took place.  He stood at the door
a long time collecting his courage.  The bed was unmade.  Perhaps the
victim had slept in it that last time.  What was that stain on the
sheet?   Dirt?  Blood?  Cum?  A wardrobe door was open and there were
still some clothes hanging there.  On top of the dresser were a batch of
things that made it look like someone would be back soon -- a comb and
brush, a couple of ties, a belt, a wallet and some change.  He checked
the view -- success -- he could see the tower and its brightly lit clock
through the dirty window.  He put the candle down and opened the window
and took a picture.  It almost 11 PM.  Just an hour 'til midnight and
then another hour.

Ray sat on the chair.  The clock rang out the hour.  He had two hours to
survive.  He sat worrying about ghosts and witches, flying brooms and
coal-black cats.  Why did witches always have to be old?  Weren't there
any young and pretty ones?  Even younger than that good looking one in
"The Wizard of Oz".  Young and pretty ones with pussies.  He laughed at
his own joke.  He looked at the clock; only 11:14 and it already felt
like an hour.  This was going to be a very long two hours.

He got up and walked to the back of the house to see what was there.
The same dirt and dust and cobwebs.  Other bits of furniture.  He did a
double take at the sheet covering some piece of furniture flapping in
the breaze.  He was ashamed of himself -- ghosts did not exist.  A owl
hooted.  The floor creaking with his every step was unnerving.  He
looked at the old portrait still hanging on the wall at the top of the
stairs.  The old guy looked mean in that uniform.  He could not imagine
that he was bluster like old man Mencel who was a retired cop and took
great delight in yelling at the kids constantly.  It was sure a wicked
looked sword he was drawing out of its scabbard.

It was a tall grandfathers clock in the hall.  He almost though that he
was hearing it tick away the hours but the pendulum was still.  Strange
it showed the right time.  A weird coincidence.  Everyone knew that a
stopped clock is right twice a day.  He took a picture of it.  It would
be nice that the clock would match the camera's time stamp of the image.

He resumed his seat to wait.  Ninety minutes to go.  He distracted
himself trying to work out the essay due on Monday for English class.
And then on trying to do the math problem he was having trouble with.
It was almost midnight.  He started to watch the town clock.  It would
be impressive to capture it at midnight.  He unconsciously was counting
the seconds as the grandfather clock ticked.

The clock tower seemed to quiver at it was striking midnight.  He got
his picture.  Just another hour to go.  This was not as bad as he
thought.  The one thing that scared him was not to be mentioned.  The
wind suddenly got stronger and blew out his candle.  He just got out the
matches when there was a great flash of light.  He dropped the matches.
Lighting.  The clap was loud and only a second later.  It was a close
strike.  He was just about to look for the matches when he heard a deep
voice.

"And what do we have here.  A sneak thief?"  He jumped and felt that the
matches went across the room.  He looked towards the door.  There were
two figures in the dark.  He was trapped!

"Please, sirs.  I'm not a thief.  I did not take anything.  I'm just
trying to prove I'm brave enough to stay in this house.  I thought it
was deserted.   I'm terribly sorry.  Please forgive me and let me go."

"Perhaps he not a thief but just a vandal on this trick or treat night,
Luke." said the one on the right.

"At the very least a trespasser, Matt." said the one on the left.  "I
know what my father would have done to me in this situation."

"Probably less than mine would have done to me." responded Matt.

Ray was frozen in terror.  Either the guys had gotten a couple of grown
men to play a trick or there was....  He could not even think that.

"He does not have a sack so let's give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Yes, but he must be punished."

They walked over to the frozen lad.  Luke sat down in the chair.  "Come
here, lad."  Like a zombie Ray stepped over.  The man undid did his
jacket and then his belt.  One by one the buttons of his 501's were
popped and his jeans lowered.  His briefs followed.  A slight tug and he
was over the man's lap.

"Here's the hairbrush, Luke."  It was then that he realized exactly what
was about to happen.  Just seconds latter a large strong arm brought the
hairbrush forcefully down on his bare bottom with a resounding WHACK!!
Ray yelled in surprise and pain.

Over and over the brush connected painfully hard with his butt making a
deep impression.  There were constant lighting flashes and thunder
claps.  What Ray did not realize were that some of the flashes were from
his camera.  When the man stopped spanking, Ray knew that he had been
spanked.

"No more trespassing, boy." he was told by the spanker as he was stood
up.

"Yes, sir.  Never again, sir." he said -- fully meaning it.

"My father would have strapped me good and proper.  Bend over the bed,
boy and I'll show you how." explained Matt.

Ray was too scared not to obey.  When he was in place the man took his
own position.  He folded the belt and raised it.  Ray jumped in pain and
saw novas.  "Don't move, boy."

The stroke was repeated and repeated until Ray was bawling.  He was
parked in the corner to contemplate his misdeeds.  He did not mind the
cold breeze on his very hot bottom.

In his confused state he lost track of the time.  Then he heard the town
clock strike one and the Matt said: "Pull up your pants and get out of
here, boy."

"And stay out, boy." finished Luke.

Ray pulled up his jeans, picked up his camera, snapped another picture
of the clock and ran.  He ran down the stairs.  He ran out the door.  He
ran down the walk and jumped the gate.  He ran until his friends caught
him.

When he told then the story they laughed.  "Nobody was in that old house
except you." they insisted, "You must have fallen asleep and dreamed
it."  They took the film as agreed.  The case had the marking they made
less than three hours ago.

It was late the next day that they got the pictures back.

Ray had done what had been required.  There were the three town clock
shots that proved he was there.  The other pictures were the puzzle.

Ray was disturbed seeing that the grandfather clock did not have any
hands.

All were disturbed seeing Ray getting spanked.  They all recognized the
room and Ray in spankee position and the hairbrush.

But he was floating above the chair -- like the spanker was invisible --
and the hairbrush was floating in the air.  And then the bent over
strapping also showed the belt floating in the air.  His butt was quite
red.

And none could deny the marks that Ray showed them.

Ray was haunted by those events.  He went to the town library and
checked the old issues of the _Town Crier_.  Yes, there had been a
murder there.  Actually two murders.  The cousins Lucas and Matthew
Linington some fifty years ago.

They say that spirits roam the Earth on that special night.  Ray was
sure that they were right for how else could he heard those names.

The End

(C) Copyright A.I.L.  October 27, 2003




Y.

Valid return address is <YLeeCoyote@mail.com>
(Posting address is for the spammers)

See my stories at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/YLeeCoyote/www/
See Goldilocks stories at http://www.geocities.com/goldilocks1938/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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