by Jenny Plumb
“I am in the presence of the ghost yet to come,” said Carol. “How apt.”
The spirit answered not, but pointed onward with its member.
“You are to show me shadows of sexual encounters that have not happened but will happen in the time ahead of us?”
The upper portion of the garment contracted as if the spirit inclined its head. Although well used to erotic company by this time, Carol desired the silent shape so much her legs trembled and she could hardly stand to follow it.
“Ghost of the future,” she exclaimed. “I want you more than any spectre I have seen. But as your purpose is to teach me a distinct moral lesson, will you not speak to me?”
It gave no reply, the member pointed straight before them.
“Lead on, for the night is waning fast and I am desperate to get into my bed and masturbate for the first time in many years. I never thought I would say that but it is true. Let me alone that I might please myself after so long ignoring my own needs.”
The phantom pointed at the ground and Carol knew what was expected. Her posterior was still warm from the last spanking she had received, but this one barely touched her, her heart fixed on Bob Crackitt, her mind fixed on him. All she wanted was his hand on her, not this bony approximation. She looked up, realising the spirit had ceased to spank her and was walking away.
The phantom moved on and Carol followed. They scarcely seemed to enter the city, for the city seemed to spring up around them without them making much movement at all. Around them stood a number of whores chinking money in their pockets. “I don’t know much about it, only that she is dead,” said one.
“When did she die?” inquired another.
“Last night I believe.”
“What was the matter with her?”
“She died for lack of cock, the dried up old prune.”
“What has she done with her money?”
“I know not. She hasn’t left it to me, that’s all I know.”
“It’ll be a cheap funeral no doubt, for who will go to it?”
“I’ll go if sex is provided,” laughed another whore.
“You’d go anywhere if sex was provided, you slut.”
The phantom glided on into a street, pointing its member at two people meeting for a conversation.
Carol knew these men. They were men of business who often frequented her mill.
“How are you?” asked one.
“How are you?” returned the other.
“So old Christmas has passed at last, I hear.”
“So I am told.”
The phantom moved on. Carol was inclined to surprise that the spirit attached such importance to trivial conversations, but she assumed some hidden meaning would soon become apparent. They reached her counting house and though the clock suggested she should be there, she was not.
They went on to an obscure part of town, recognised as a place of ill repute, whores here worked the streets, their clients disgorging quantities of spunk in the open air without a care in the world. Here they found a low-browed shop where two unsightly villains shared out the contents of a bag of stolen goods.
“Little good they did her in life,” said one. “She should have sold all and enjoyed her time more with a good screw and a poke.”
“No truer word was ever spoke,” replied the other. “These were took while her body laid in bed, she was unable to mind, for her breath was no longer in her body. I thought she would no longer need the blankets nor curtains of her abode. She won’t catch cold now and I took her panties, too, for she won’t need them where she’s going. The sex toys were gathering dust in a drawer, she shall need them no more.”
Carol listened in horror to this dialogue. “Spirit,” she shuddered. “I see that the case of this unhappy, but obviously unconnected to me in any way, person might be similar to my own fate unless I change my ways. But what is this you show me?”
She recoiled in terror, for before them now was a bare uncurtained bed and a ragged sheet covering something up that was hard to see in the darkness. Carol wished to lower the cover to see the face underneath but had no power to do so. She thought, if this woman could be raised up now, what would be her thoughts?
She lay alone with a cat tearing at the door and rats gnawing beneath the hearth. “This is a fearful place. Let me leave it, but I shall not leave its lesson behind. Let us go.”
The spirit shook its head.
“If there is any person who feels emotion caused by this death, show them to me, I beseech you. I get the horrible feeling I know who that corpse is and what it symbolises, though I doubt myself now and would feign say no more on the matter.”
The phantom spread its robe, and in an instant they were in a room by daylight, a woman pacing up and down, clearly expecting someone. A man walked in, looking gloomy and downcast.
“Is it good or bad?” she asked.
“Bad.”
“We are ruined? Unless she relents?”
“She is past relenting, she is dead.”
“To whom will our debt be transferred?”
“I don’t know. I wish I could have resisted the offer at the mill nor taken advantage of the no upfront cost pricing system with its shocking usurer’s rate of interest.”
“It is not your fault alone. I accompanied you to buy the cloth after all.”
“Perhaps the debt will be transferred to a kind hearted creditor. They could never be so merciless as the old crone herself.”
Their hearts were lighter, they were indeed happy that the woman had died.
“Can I see tenderness connected with that death?” asked Carol.
The ghost conducted her through several streets and as they went Carol looked around her. They entered Bob Crackitt’s house and found the children seated around the fire. All were quiet, so very quiet.
In came Bob Crackitt and took his tea, children by his side. He spoke pleasantly to them. “It is a green place where he is. Oh my little child!”
He broke down all at once. He couldn’t help it, leaving the room and going upstairs. He sat on a chair that had signs of someone having been there lately. Returning to the fireplace, he told them all of Carol’s step-nephew whom had been so kind to him, asking what ailed him when they bumped into each other in the street. “He said he was heartily sorry to hear of what happened. It was as if he knew Teeny Tom himself. We’ll never forget him, will we?”
“Never!” cried they all.
“I know when we recollect how mild he was, we shall not quarrel ever again.” Eleanor Crackitt kissed his cheek and Teeny Tom’s essence was with them once more.
“Spectre,” said Carol. “I get the feeling that the anonymous dead woman who was clearly not connected to me in any way, was nonetheless someone of importance. I have literally no idea who it might have been, not a clue. Who was it, perchance?”
The ghost took her to her house yet its member pointed away. “My house is yonder,” said Carol. “Why do you point over there, I wonder?”
They hastened to Carol’s mill, where the office was there but no longer the same, the figure in the chair not herself. They went on, reaching an iron gate of a churchyard. Here the spirit stood among the graves and pointed down to one.
“Before I look at that stone to which you point, which will obviously be someone nothing to do with me, answer me this. Are these the shadows of things that definitely one hundred per cent will be and nothing can change them, thus rendering this entire adventure utterly pointless in every respect? Or are they the shadows of what might be, which would be somewhat preferable if you ask me?”
Still the ghost pointed with its member down at the grave. Carol crept towards it and following the cock, read upon the stone of the neglected grave her own name, CAROL CHRISTMAS.
“Am I the woman who lay upon the bed?” Carol cried in shock, utterly amazed, as the spirit rolled its unseen eyes and slapped its forehead at her stupidity at not having worked it out yet. “Hear me, spirit, I am not this woman!
Why show me if I am past all hope?”
The phantom made no sound.
“You are interceding for me, assure me that I may yet change the future with an altered life.”
The spirit trembled.
“I will honour orgasms in my heart, I will indulge in a spanking Christmas, I will enjoy sex for the wonderful thing it is, I swear. I will live in an erotic past, present and future. The spirit of all three of you shall remain within me.”
She brought her hand to the phantom’s face to kiss his cheek but the instant she touched his shroud, she looked up to see the spirit gone and she was kissing her own bedpost.
Chapter 5
The bedpost was her own. The bed was her own. The room was her own. “I will make love in the past, the present and the future,” Carol cried as she scrambled out of bed. “The spirit of all three shall strive within me. Oh Martin, be praised for what you’ve done! I am a changed woman.”
She began sobbing as she beheld the bed curtains. “They are not torn down. They are still here as am I. I want to masturbate, I want to be spanked, I want to wear a nappy and be called little. I want it all!” She ran through to the sitting room. “The pan of gruel will be filled with seed instead,” she said, laughing out loud.
For a woman out of practice for so long, it was a splendid laugh. “I don’t know what day it is but I don’t care. I’m going to come every day for a year. Hallo there!” The church bells began to ring as she spoke, the sound glorious to her ears.
Running to the window she opened it and threw off her nightshirt, standing brazenly naked in full view of passersby, her breasts free and unfettered, her nipples stiffening in the cold air. “What is today?” asked Carol to a passing man as she ran her hands down her chest to her pussy and pushed two fingers into herself.
“Why today’s Christmas Day,” replied the man.
“Christmas Day! Then I haven’t missed it. The spirits did it all in one night. I say, my good fellow!”
“Hallo there.”
“Do you know the toy shop in the next street but one?”
“I should say so.”
“A handsome man, a most handsome clever man. Do you know whether they’ve sold the prize doll that was hanging up there, the big one?”
“What, the one big as my arm?”
“You are a wickedly delightful man. Yes, that one.”
“It hangs there now.”
“Go and buy it.”
“What the deuce? No child could handle one that size.”
“I am in earnest. Go and buy it and tell them to bring it here. Come back with a frock under your arm and I’ll give you a shilling. Come back in under ten minutes with a dummy and I’ll make it half a crown.”
The man was off like a shot. “I’ll take it to Bob Crackitt,” whispered Carol, laughing.
“Off with this hair,” she said, looking down at her naked body. Shaving her core was not an easy task, for her hand shook as she tried to masturbate simultaneously, wanting to make up for lost time.
The doll came in nine minutes and she sent the man away richer by a crown and herself richer by all she had received. She dressed in the frock, put her hair in bunches, wore the whitest knickers and matching socks, looking for all the world like the little she was in her heart as she went out into the street. The people were pouring forth and she regarded all with a smile and a kind word regarding their appearance even as they mocked hers and the doll she struggled to carry.
She had not gone far when she beheld the two gentlemen who had walked into her counting house the day before. It sent a pang through her soul to think of the erotic toys they had shown her.
“My dear sirs,” she said, taking them both by the hand. “A merry Christmas to you both.”
“Miss Christmas?”
“Yes, that is my name and I ask your pardon. Here, take this bundle of notes and buy the paupers their sex toys.”
“Miss Christmas, are you serious?”
“Not a farthing less. Do me that favour.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. Just give me a butt plug if you have one to spare.”
“We will!” cried the gentlemen in unison and it was clear they meant it. They handed one over and walked away laughing whilst in sight of anyone who might glance her way, Carol lifted her skirt to expose her shaved core as she removed her panties. She bent over and pulled apart her buttocks to slide in the plug, a surprise for him when he saw it and a pleasure for her whilst she walked.
In no time at all she reached her step-nephew’s house. She knocked on the door and a maid answered. “Is your master at home?”
“Yes, miss.”
“Fred!” said Carol as she stepped inside.
How the man and wife started at the sight of her altered hair and rosy cheeks, her short dress, her legs visible more than they’d ever been before.
“Who is that?” asked Fred.
“It is I, your step-aunt.”
Though she did not plan it, Carol spent the day with the pair and returned home late that night, her jaw aching from laughing so much. Sorrowful that she had not seen Bob, she was early at the counting house the next day, a cloak wrapped around her, hiding her frock. The clock struck nine and then quarter past. Finally, in came Bob fully eighteen minutes later. Carol sat and scowled at him as he entered. “What do you mean by arriving so late in the day?”
“I am sorry for being behind my time.”
“You are? Step this way, sir, if you please.”
“It is only once a year and shall not be repeated. My children insisted on a goodbye game of charades before I set off this morning. I had not the heart to turn them down.”
“I tell you what,” said Carol. “I’ll not stand for this any longer. Therefore, I am going to raise your salary and raise the angle of your member in the same moment.”
Bob trembled and staggered as she flung aside the cloak. He had a momentary idea of calling for a straitjacket for Carol.
“Teach me a lesson I shall never forget,” she cried, clapping him on the back. “I’ll raise your salary so you can assist your family. Now make up the fire and buy another coal scuttle and then get your clothes off post-haste.”
In no length of time, the fire was roaring and Carol was at her desk as if she were commencing lessons. Bob took on the role of teacher as if he were born to it. “You will not sit still,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Please, Papa, it is this plug in me. It makes it difficult to stay in one place.”
“What? You have a plug in you?”
“I do.”
“Prove it.”
“Of course.” She stood up, turned away from him and flicked up the back of her frock, revealing her lack of underwear and the plug protruding from her rear.
“That is not what I expect of my little Carol,” Bob said. “Remain bent over. You must be taught a lesson in decorum.”
Carol’s heart soared as she took hold of the nearest thing, a shelf full of ledgers. Behind her, she heard him approach and then the thing she had dreamed of finally happened. His hand fell on her bottom, spanking her heartily as she let out a squeal of delight. The harder he spanked her, the more she cried with pleasure, the pain nothing compared to the love bubbling up within her. He paused after a dozen blows to play with the plug and she could wait no longer. “I need you inside me, Papa,” she said, pushing her rear towards him.
He responded eagerly, his clothes tossed aside in moments whilst she waited eagerly. “I have long dreamed of doing this,” he said, pushing himself slowly into her.
“Dreams are nothing compared to reality,” she replied before losing the ability to speak, her mouth falling open as he thrust deep into her. She came almost at once, a wave of orgasmic bliss that had been waiting for longer than any orgasm should to race through her body. It made up for the long years of ignoring her desires, so strong she almost passed out, wave after wave of pleasure racing through her whilst he slowed
just long enough for her to growl with need.
By her third orgasm, she could barely think and when he began to spank her whilst thrusting into her, she cried out in the most improper language that he must fill her, he must come inside her.
That he did, over and over again that day and no work was conducted that involved either of them dressing. By the end of the working day, Carol was sore beyond belief but she cared only for the pleasure she felt. Bob left that night in a daze, Carol catching up with him a minute later, not wanting any longer to be apart from the man she loved.
She had no further interaction with spirits ever again, but whether it was a dream, a vision or something else, she was glad they had come to her, for they had brought her out of the darkness and into the light of the love she felt for her clerk. Not that he remained her clerk long. Come the New Year, the signs were newly painted outside every mill, Crackitt and Christmas ran the legend and a legend they became, renowned throughout the land as the kindest and most generous of employers and the warmest of people to boot. May that be said of us all, throughout the year but at this time most of all. As Carol herself would say, a spankingly merry Christmas to everyone!
The End.
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