by Jenny Plumb
Carol saw herself now as an older woman in the prime of life. Her face had not the harsh lines of later life, but there was an eager greedy motion in the eye. She was not alone but sat by a young man in mourning attire, tears sparkling in his eyes.
“It matters little,” he said. “Another idol has replaced me and if it will make you come, as I have tried to do, in the future I have no cause to grieve.”
“What idol has displaced you?”
“A golden one.”
“You mean money, don’t you? There is nothing condemned with such severity as the pursuit of wealth, what harm is there in me becoming rich?”
“You fear sex so much,” he answered. “All your desires have shifted towards the pursuit of wealth instead of the pursuit of passion. Gain alone engrosses you.”
“What of it? I am wiser for it. It does not change the fact that I would like to be spanked by you on a regular basis.”
“Our contract was made when we were poor and content to be so. You are changed. When we agreed to start as Papa and little you were another woman.”
“I was young and up for experimenting with bondage and butt plugs. I am not that young anymore. I prefer tea and early bed to count my coins.”
“You were not what you are. I am. That which promised happiness, the tongue around my shaft in the middle of the night, is fraught with misery now we are two not one. I release you from me.”
“Have I sought release?”
“Not the kind I wish to give you, the release of a climax. I release you nonetheless.”
“What kind then?”
“In an altered spirit. Tell me, if you saw me naked with my cock rigid and ready to enter you right now next to a purse of gold, which would you choose?”
“I am unsure.”
“You are not. For the love of who you once were I will let you go. Your memory of what we had when you used to let me spank you with gay abandon may make you sad. This will pass. May you be happy in your chosen spinsterhood.”
He left Carol and they parted.
“Spirit show me no more,” said Carol. “Take me home. Why do you torture me with these images?”
“One shadow more.”
“No more. I don’t wish to see it. Show me no more.”
But the relentless ghost forced her to look in at another place. It was a room full of comfort though not large. Near to the fire sat a beautiful girl with many children around. There was a knocking at the door and a man, the same vision as the last but older now, entered laden with gifts and toys.
Carol looked on as the master of the house sat with the mother of the brood and said, “I saw a friend of yours today.”
“Who was it?”
“Guess!”
“I don’t know. Carol Christmas?”
“It was! I passed her counting house and could see her in there. Her partner lies dying and desirous of one last orgasm and there she sat alone with her pussy dry as old parchment, her toys all locked away or sold for the gold they might bring. She refused to even see him.”
“Spirit,” said Carol in a broken voice. “Remove me from this place.”
“I told you these were shadows of erotic encounters past. Do not blame me for what is gone by. It cannot be undone; what is already done is done.”
“I cannot bear it.” She looked at the ghost and saw fragments of many orgasm faces within. “Leave me, take me back. Haunt me no longer.”
The light coming from the ghost’s member seemed to go dimmer and dimmer until only blackness remained and Carol felt herself back in her bed, her eyes drooping as she sank into a heavy sleep that was much deserved.
Chapter 3
Awaking in the middle of an obscene dream and sitting up in bed to calm herself, Carol heard the bell strike one. She felt restored to consciousness in the nick of time to hold conference with the second messenger.
But the bell struck and no shape appeared. For fifteen minutes nothing came, although Carol almost did more than once as she squeezed her legs together repeatedly without knowing why she was doing it. All this time a light shone upon the bed from the adjoining room and at last Carol realised this spark might be the location of the spirit. Perhaps she was not the brightest spark herself, for the length of time it took her to ascertain that fact. She got up and shuffled over to the door, trying her best to ignore her growing desire that called to her without rest.
The moment Carol’s hand was on the lock, a strange voice called her by name and bade her enter. She obeyed.
It was her room but it had undergone a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling were hung with alphabet posters and toys, abacuses and chains, all bright green and gleaming with life. The fire roared and heaped on the floor were blankets, dolls and bowls of foodstuffs. In easy state upon the couch sat a jolly giant who bore a glowing erection, larger than any seen in those premises before, in shape not unlike Plenty’s horn, held up high to shed light on Carol as she peeped round the door. Once more it looked much like her clerk, a fact not lost on her as she smiled, thinking of him with his member out like that, what a sight that would be.
“Come in,” said the ghost, “come in so I can spank you.”
Carol entered timidly and hung her head in shyness though the spirit’s eyes were clear and filled with lust as were her own.
“I am the ghost of erotic possibilities present,” said the spirit. “Sit there and open your legs that I might see for myself what is possible with you.”
Carol timidly did so. The spirit lay on his back on the couch whilst Carol’s nightshirt rose to expose her soaking wet pussy. She could not resist the spirit’s voice. She began to stroke herself as the ghost seemed at once to look like her clerk. She felt a light pass into her that began to thaw her frigid insides like the snow during the first spring sunshine. All too soon the spirit told her to stop, leaving her tingling all over as memories of touching such a dormant part of her continued to run through her mind whilst he commenced to speak.
“Have you done that before?”
“Not in a very long time.”
“Have you seen one such as me before?”
It was clothed in a simple green tunic that stopped at its waist, bare otherwise with a huge erect cock sticking into the air. It wore no other covering.
“I have not. Conduct me where you will, spirit. I went forth last night on arousal alone and I learnt a lesson that is working now. Tonight if you have anything to teach, let me profit by it.
“Do not presume to tell me what to do. Bend over that desk right now.”
This Carol eagerly did, although where the desk had come from, she knew not. When her nightgown was lifted to expose her rear, she did not shrink in fear, instead a heat grew in her, a desire for her clerk’s hand to descend on her, to bring her nerves to life, to spank her for being so cruel to him for so long.
“Tell me you have been naughty,” the ghost said.
“I have been naughty.”
“Say, I have been naughty, Papa.”
“I have been naughty, Papa.”
“Good little Carol,” the ghost growled, moving behind her and bringing his hand down on her rear a moment later. As the first spank landed, Carol closed her eyes, picturing the clerk carrying out such an act. “Thank you, Papa,” she said as the spanks continued to fall on her. “Thank you, Bob,” she added in a whisper, for was it not him that she dreamed of, even as the spirit chuckled behind her?
“I am not Bob,” the ghost roared and his hand fell on her so hard she felt sure she would pass out. As her vision faded, the room vanished and they were stood on the city streets on Christmas morning where the people scraped snow from the pavement in front of their dwellings and from the tops of their houses. The sky was gloomy and there was nothing cheerful in the climate and yet there was an air of cheerfulness abroad, the people jovial and full of glee.
The sex shops were still half open, glimpsing through shutters brought the view of vibrators so white, dildos of brass so lo
ng and straight, butt plugs so spotted with ridges as to make the coldest onlookers feel faint and then aroused in swift measure.
Soon the steeples called good people to church and chapel and away they went in their best clothes. At the same time there emerged from side streets people carrying their dinners to the bakers’ shops. The sight of them interested the spirit, for as they passed he sprinkled a little drop of seed on their dinners from his cock. It was very unusual spunk, for when there were angry words between people, a few drops of seed and good humour was restored directly and they said it was a shame to quarrel on Christmas Day.
“Is there a peculiar flavour in what you sprinkle from your fleshy torch?” asked Carol.
“There is. My own.”
“Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?”
“To any kindly given. To a poor one most.”
“Why to a poor one most?”
“Because it needs it most.”
They went on, invisible as before, which gave Carol opportunity to stare long and hard at any persons she felt attractive without feeling as if she pried too far into their modesty. Finally, they reached the home of Carol’s clerk, pausing at the threshold of his door for the spirit to smile and bless Bob Crackitt’s dwelling with the sprinkling of his torch.
Up rose Miss Eleanor Crackitt, dressed in gown and ribbons, laying out the cloth assisted by Belinda, second daughter, whilst Peter plunged a fork into the pan of potatoes. Two smaller Crackitts came tearing in screaming that outside the baker’s they smelt the goose and knew it for their own.
“Where is our father?” said Eleanor Crackitt. “And Teeny Tom?”
In came Bob, the father, with Teeny Tom upon his shoulder. Alas for Tom, he bore a crutch and had his limbs supported by an iron frame.
“How did Tom behave?” asked Miss Crackitt.
“As good as gold and better. He is growing strong and hearty, the little Crackitt.”
In came Tom’s siblings and together they sat beside the fire while the goose was sent for. At last the dishes were set on and grace was said. There never was such a goose for tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness. Once everyone had enough, the pudding was brought out of the copper and the smell brought watering mouths to the fore.
Dinner being done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept and the fire made up. Then all the family drew around the hearth for a toast, Bob proposing, “A merry Christmas to us all, my dears,” which the family echoed.
Teeny Tom sat close by his father’s side, hands held tightly as if Bob dreaded his son might be taken from him.
“Spirit,” said Carol with an interest she’d never felt before. “Tell me if Teeny Tom will live.”
The spirit was staring at the wall to its left. “I see a cracking pair of boobs passing by in the street outside. Perhaps we might observe them for a moment instead?”
“Concentrate on this, spirit, I must know.”
“I see a vacant seat and a crutch without an owner, but what of it? If he wants to die, he had better do it and decrease the surplus population, join his mother in the afterlife. Isn’t that what you said?”
Carol hung her head to hear her own words quoted back to her and was overcome with grief at her own heartlessness.
“To Carol Christmas, founder of the feast,” said Bob. “May she one day join us.”
“To pay you your worth,” Belinda replied. “Not the pittance she gives you now.”
“My girl, it is Christmas, do not be bitter.”
“It would only be Christmas Day that one would drink the health of such an unfeeling woman as Carol Christmas. I bet she has no heart and nothing between her legs but coal as black as night.”
They were not a handsome family; they were not well dressed, their clothes were scanty but they were happy, grateful and pleased with one another and when they faded Carol had her eye upon Bob until the last.
By this time, it was getting dark and snowing heavily as Carol and the spirit went along the streets, glancing in at roaring fires and cosy dinners, sexual encounters taking place in many homes to mark the season of Christmas. All of a sudden they were on a bleak and deserted moor where masses of rude stone were cast about and nothing grew but moss and furze. Down in the west the setting sun left a streak of fiery red before being lost in the gloom of the night.
“What place is this?” asked Carol. “How did we come here so swiftly?”
“This is a place where miners live.”
“Where are their parents? This is no place for children to be left alone.”
“Not minors, for pity’s sake. Miners, you fool. Here they labour in the bowels of the earth and yet they still enjoy sexual encounters at this festive time.”
A light shone from the window of a hut and swiftly they advanced towards it. Passing through the wall of mud and stone, they found a cheerful company within. An old man and woman were fucking by the fireside and in other nooks and crannies lay other copulating couples, all them jolly and some gay.
The spirit did not tarry here even as Carol begged to linger, they went on over the moor to the sea, passing over thundering water until they reached a solitary lighthouse. Here two women who watched the light had made a fire and joined their horny hands together before moving onto holding their horny bodies together, copulating merrily.
Again the ghost sped on until far from shore they lighted on a ship. They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel as a woman knelt before him, teasing and toying with his member as he hummed a Christmas sea shanty whilst being given a Christmas hand shandy.
It was a great surprise to Carol, as she looked at the oral skills of the woman on the deck, to see she was suddenly no longer at sea but now in the bright and dry room of her step-nephew with the spirit by her side. She had been thinking of Bob again, wondering if she might get to use her mouth as that woman had done, the sailor had seemed barely able to resist climaxing at once as her tongue rolled over his length. She blinked as she saw her step-nephew moving, bringing her back to the present situation.
While Carol’s step-nephew laughed and rolled his face, his wife rolled onto him, laughing to see his shocked expression when she whipped off her dress and pressed his face to her breasts, riding him for all he was worth.
“She said Christmas was a humbug,” cried Carol’s step-nephew.
“More shame on her,” she replied, “for cumbugs are the most pleasant of bugs to be found in this world as you shall see.” She was very pretty and prettier still as her cheeks grew rosy with excitement and arousal.
“I see it right now,” moaned the gentleman. “She, on the other hand, refuses to see the rich benefit of a spanking to a healthy mind.”
“I am sure she is very rich nonetheless.” She rolled onto her front and pushed her bottom towards him. “I have been bad, Papa. Teach me a lesson.”
“What of that, my dear? Her wealth does her no good. As for you, you are a bad girl!” His hand began to smack down on her buttocks, bringing a redness to the skin that Carol observed closely. Was that how her own rear would look if Bob were to spank her?
“I have no patience with her.”
“Oh I have, I am sorry for her, for if she only knew how delightful it felt to have a hand such as mine clapped to her behind on a regular basis. In consequence she loses many pleasant moments that would only do her good. I saw how she looked at her clerk and how he looked at her. They are meant to be together.”
After they had both come more times than they could count, they had some music for they were a musical couple and the tune they played was familiar to the Carol who was collected from the finishing school. When it sounded, Carol softened, thinking she could have listened to it for all time.
After music they played erotic forfeits, the wife was spanked again until her bottom was as rosy as the ghost’s cheeks, though she acted as if the pain were pleasure and the pleasure pain during the punishment, the husband was made to resist coming until his companion had climaxed twice by her o
wn hand. Carol begged to be allowed to stay until their sexual congress was done but the spirit said it could not be done.
They played a final game of yes and no where Carol’s nephew had to guess what his wife was thinking of when the only answers to questions were yes or no, the wife wearing an approximation of a school uniform whilst the husband played the schoolmaster.
“Is it something you can put in your mouth?”
“Yes.”
“Is it something you can put in your pussy?”
“Yes.”
“Is it something you can put in your posterior?”
“Yes.”
“Is it bigger than my finger?”
“Yes.”
“I have found out what it is. It is my cock.”
“No, it is a dildo, but good guessing!” Together they laughed heartily.
“Perhaps I should give my step-aunt one for Christmas, it might bring a smile to her face should she ever choose to use it.”
The scene faded away in the blink of an eye and on they went to many homes and many bedsides, watching many orgasms at home and abroad until they heard a clock strike quarter to twelve.
“I see something behind you,” said Carol, as from the back of the spirit emerged two wretched figures that made her recoil in horror. “Are they your friends?”
“They are yours. The man is chastity and the woman prudity. Beware them both.”
“They are so thin and ill. Have they no refuge or resource to turn to?”
“Are there no prisons?” said the spirit. “Are there no whorehouses they could visit?”
The bell struck twelve. Carol looked for the ghost but saw it not. Lifting up her eyes she beheld a solemn phantom, draped and hooded, shuffling along the ground as it approached Carol, quite the sight to behold.
Chapter 4
The phantom came near, shrouded in deep black, which concealed its face and form, leaving nothing visible save its outstretched member jutting forwards from the cloth.
