The Storyteller (23 page)

Carrie had removed her clothes in her bedroom and walked naked across the hall, into the bathroom. That’s where she took the scrub brush. It would do for what she intended and would be able to reach her behind.

With brush in hand, she walked up the hallway and into the empty living room. The sofa was dark and inviting, a sinister black that matched these urges.

“You’re going to get it good,” she informed herself as she tried to mimic an angry adult voice. “I’m gonna bust your butt.”

Climbing onto the sofa, she knelt in her nakedness on the cushions with her upper body resting against the base. Taking aim with the scrub brush in her right hand, she found she could reach her ass easily enough to deliver blows on both sides. It was perfect.

“Don’t you move!” she instructed herself and brought the brush against her unprotected right cheek.

“Ow!” she responded loudly and there was reason for it. The blow was harder than she intended it to be. It hurt like blazes too.

Again she brought the stiff brush down, this time striking to the left which was a bit more difficult, but the hard plastic gave a bite into her. A stinging sensation shot through her entire body.

“Now you’re really going to get it!”

At that moment, she delivered as forceful a self-administered paddling as she could, trying not to yield to the natural temptation of holding back. With each strike against her flesh, she felt the pain, but emitted no noise. Instead, she waited for the sexual sensation to come, and just as in the article with her literary counterpart, they did arrive. Whether the woman was a work of fact or fiction, she was on to something and had inspired a reader to open new doors.

Carrie continued to pound her own ass until common sense prevailed and she knew she could take no more. Her breathing was as heavy as if she had taken part in a marathon run, and her body was shaking with lust, rather than just pain. She was definitely turned on but had not yet had the cherished orgasm she’d hoped for.

Dismounting, she took the brush back to the bathroom and placed it within the shower. No one would ever know. There was, however, a vast difference coming back than there had been when first going out. Her walk was different, more labored from the discipline she had given herself. Her ass was heated with a new and fiery sting she had never felt before. She wondered just how red she was and took a hand mirror from the sink to inspect the damage. Though like the spanking not being the most perfect due to physical restraints in giving it to herself, the view of her self-punished butt was flawed, yet convincing. She was raspberry red.

Yet she still had not had an orgasm.

Moving back to her bedroom, she imagined a fictional lover waiting for her. The most believable she could come up with was a football player from school who was superior to her current boyfriend.

“Are you going to punish me more?” she asked the imaginary figure. Her answer was a silent nod.

Carrie mounted her bed and knelt on her hands and knees in doggie position. It was then she started to strike herself with her right hand. The hardest of blows landed on the right side of her ass, which was already sore from the paddling she had given herself. She wished beyond anything that someone real was there to spank her.

“Ow,” she answered herself as she continued to spank. “Oooooo! Ow!”

Without warning her insides danced and she had a loud, shushing climax.

“Yeow!”

She fell forward into the mattress and rested there for a long while, pausing occasionally to rub her injured bottom or to shift to her side and finger her damp crotch. She would have stayed in this position forever but knew the rest of the family would be coming back soon. So she dressed, watched television while her butt flamed beneath her clothing, and said nothing. Her secret was safe.

“When I read that magazine article, my thoughts were out of control,” she explained, coming back to reality. “I was sixteen, like the supposed girl in the story I read had been. Only thing is, whether she was for real or not didn’t matter. I was for real. I waited until my parents and my sister were gone. I forget where they were going, but I told them I wanted to stay home. I made a pretense of having homework to do or some lie. As soon as they were out the door, I took off all my clothes, took a plastic bath brush from the bathroom, and straddled the living room’s sofa. That’s where I discovered how pain and pleasure could mix together. I spanked myself into oblivion, and I had the greatest climax I’d ever experienced up to then.”

“Were you sexually active before this?” the pastor probed. He evidently saw nothing odd about her story so far.

“Not that much,” Carrie answered. “I lost my virginity in junior high and did it once or twice with this guy I was seeing in high school at the time, but keep in mind when you are a teenager, you can’t just have sex any place and anywhere like you want.”

The pastor nodded his head in agreement.

“I kept spanking myself in secret and masturbating,” she continued. “The problem is, again living at home, I couldn’t do it as often as I would have liked to. I did it in the shower, giving myself a couple of whaps with the bathroom brush again while everyone else was home, but I had to be quiet about it. When I was alone, I either pulled my pants down or did it naked. Sometimes I used my hand. Sometimes I experimented. I tried all sorts of things – a hairbrush, a yard stick, even a ruler. I even took a flat wooden meat tenderizer to my backside. The worst was a cutting board, though. Too heavy. I only did that one time and had the worst bruises ever.”

Pastor Crabwater nodded again.

“Is this too graphic for you?”

The minister tried to give a comforting grin.

“No. If I don’t hear the truth, how might I really advise you?”

Again, Carrie shut her eyes. She remembered her so-called boyfriend at the time. Fred was his name. What a dull name that was.

“I tried to get Fred to spank me. Fred was a classmate I was seeing. I thought he was a boyfriend, but in looking back, it wasn’t much of a relationship. One time, we went to a playground at night at a church kind of like this. The church had outdoor steps going down into their basement entrance, and down there we could be hidden. I told Fred I wanted to be spanked, but he wanted oral sex instead.”

Carrie was being careful to use clinical terms and not common language she knew so well.

“I stuck my butt out and positioned my hands against the wall. The chance of getting caught was all the more edgy to me, but Fred didn’t like it. I turned and faced him, and I let him know I was getting mad.”

“Spank me or I won’t suck it.”

Carrie lectured Fred from their hiding place, as she fumed with frustration.

“You do it my way or you get nothing. Now spank my ass.”

Carrie saw it in her mind once more. She undid the fastenings that held up her pants and pulled them down, showing her pussy to her lover, then moving to expose her waiting ass. With the covering off her lower extremities, she turned and placed her hands on the wall again, sticking herself outward.

“Do it,” she commanded.

Fred brought his hand down across her ass, but he pulled the blow.

“Harder,” Carrie commanded.

Angered, Fred let her have a hard one, and this brought a cry from her mouth.

“Quiet,” her boyfriend warned. “Someone’s gonna catch us.”

“Spank or you don’t get sucked,” Carrie commanded.

Again, Fred whapped her. Again. Again. Yet again.

“Ow! Yeow! Ygh! Ow! Ow!”

This was so much better than a self-administered punishment. She was so turned on, but Fred was too dumb to realize it.

“Pull your pants up,” he instructed. “This is stupid! We’re going home!”

“I was made to be a fool,” Carrie grumbled, once again coming back to reality. “I suggested spanking to this so-called boyfriend of mine, but he wasn’t into it. We broke up after that. He had the nerve to tell me he thought what I wanted was dumb. It was too weird for him. It was too weird for anyone else either, because the prick let it out all over school. I was just glad my sister was in middle school at the time, and my parents didn’t get wind of this. Hey, by the way, I apologize about the profanity, but what can I say? Fred was a prick. He was a dumb bastard.”

“So this sin you wish to confess is masturbation and self spanking?” the pastor asked. “If so, let me assure you there’s salvation. This is mild compared to some of the sins I have heard, and there is always forgiveness for those who wish to turn.”

“What about a deal with a demon?” Carrie vaulted out. “Have you ever heard that one before? How’s that for a sin?”

Pastor Crabwater’s face took on a new and curious expression.

“I see. A deal with the devil.”

Carrie frowned.

“No, not THE devil. I said A devil, A demon, A minion who came to my bidding when no mortal would give me what I wanted.”

The minister bit his lip and nodded once more.

“I see. A demon. Not Satan himself, but a demon. Did he give you a name?”

“Olivier,” she answered, “like the actor.”

The pastor again nodded and motioned for her to continue.

“It was after my eighteenth birthday and so uneventful a social life I think people were starting to wonder if I was a lesbian. I mean, the tale had already spread about how I wanted to be spanked. It backfired on Fred a bit though, because his friends called him names. They said he should have f... Oh, never mind.”

“Fucked you?” the minister offered with a shrug. “We might as well be honest here. I cannot help you if you are too worried about what I might think.”

Carrie smiled at that. Once again, she wondered if this young minister was undressing her in his mind. Instead of fucking her or eating her, did he envision administering a sound spanking? Rather than prayer, she thought it would be funny if he pulled down her pants and delivered a brutal butt beating right in his office.

It was then she caught herself. That was what she wanted to get away from. She had wallowed in her own lust and wickedness for so long now.

“It was after I watched a horror film in the theater that I thought I would enhance things a little. I decided I’d take my fantasies further and romp in my imagination with a demon lover. I mean, I was still caught up in the dream world where I continued to spank myself into utopia. I just couldn’t find anyone out there who would rather spank than fu... have conventional sex.”

“So how did this happen?”

Carrie made a menacing grin, as she prepared to share her most forbidden secret. In doing so, she knew a solution had to be reached and a complete appeasement found this day. Otherwise, Olivier would punish her more severely than ever. She had been told from the onset never to reveal his identity to anyone or speak his name outside the confines of their meeting places.

“I went to an occult bookstore. Keep in mind this wasn’t Strasburg, you know. I found a book of rituals and did one, naked in my apartment. I had moved out from the house by then. I had a job and such. I wasn’t really big on college, though maybe I should have been. There, I might have found someone else into spanking and not had to resort to what I thought was going to be just another reprobate game. How was I to know demons were real? How was I to know I would fall in love with one and have a relationship that’s gone on for almost a decade?”

“So what made you want to stop?” the minister asked. He didn’t question the reality of her situation, but accepted it. This was a big plus in his favor.

“I flat couldn’t take it anymore. My body couldn’t take it. We did sick things. I mean sick things. I just wanted out, and I want out now. It’s a wonder my ass doesn’t have scars on it.”

“Tell me more,” the minister encouraged.

“Do you think I’m insane?” Carrie objected, “Do you think I’m imagining this all, and I’ve flipped out? If so...”

“I believe demons exist in a real realm,” the minister interrupted. “I believe they are real and you have encroached on truly dangerous ground, but there are ways out, you know.”

“Very well,” Carrie sighed as she shut her eyes, remembering how Olivier came to her. “Give me a minute.”

A spell had come over her, and she would be bound by it from that point onward. As she knelt naked in her living room, with images of satanic symbols drawn on paper encompassing her in a circle, and candles burning in the distance, a dark figure emerged from out of nowhere.

“I am Olivier. I will give you all that you ask, but in return you must be mine as well.”

She expected a hideous monster with festered skin and horns, but this was a handsome man, like the hero of some Gothic novel. He was dressed in black and had hair that matched his clothing. Even in the flickering of the candlelight she was afforded enough of a view to realize just how inviting he was.

“I did the ritual from a book I bought and planned on just spanking myself until I came, but then I found out it was real. Common sense would have told me to run to church right then and renounce what I was doing, but first off, I didn’t have my clothes on at the time. Second off, I was under a real spell. The moment he materialized, I was held captive. It was a spell, and I wanted him. Everything I’d known and believed evaporated. I wanted Olivier more than anything.”

Carrie opened her eyes to find the minister staring at her, absorbed in total belief.

“There was no signing of a contract in blood. There was no offering of my soul. No smell of brimstone and shit. He told me I could call upon him at any time, and when I wanted him, I would just have to ask, and he would just show. He said he knew what I wanted and would give it to me, but I could never betray him and never tell anyone what was going on between us. He told me the world would think of me as insane and lock me in a nut house. I knew he was right.”

Carrie closed her eyes and remembered.

As she left the circle, the demon took her into her bedroom, knowing exactly where to go. There in the darkness, he hurled her face first on the bed.

“Where is your belt?” he asked. That was the wrong word. It was not a question, but a command.

“It’s still in my pants on the floor,” she replied with eagerness in her voice.