spankingtheatre:

A Gothic Spanking Ghost Story

“… and as she dangled before the assembled townsfolk, the wicked witch cast her most terrible curse. Its infernal power magnified by being spat out by her dying breath. All those watching as the hanging witch choked in the noose suddenly felt a fiery grip squeeze their own throats, as if they’d each been assailed by an invisible strangler. They flailed helplessly at their necks, staring at their neighbours with panicked, bulging eyes…”

“… and then, at the very moment the witch’s feet stopped kicking: the entire population of the town fell to the ground. Stone. Dead.”

Evelyn delivered the denouement of her tale with a clap of her hands, sending a shudder through the seven other girls listening. Her friends sat cross-legged in a circle, their faces shrouded in darkness. Surrounding them was a ring of white candles, whose timid flickering flames also seemed to tremble at Evelyn’s revelation, straining as if trying to hold back the encroaching blackness.

There was a murmur of approval for Evelyn’s story – definitely the creepiest and most disturbing so far. The Ghost Story Circle had become a tradition at Jessica’s Halloween parties, with everyone expected to take their turn as the storyteller. Some even spent weeks researching, writing and memorising their stories. Everyone knew Evelyn was a perfectionist, and had chosen as her inspiration the hoary old local folk tale of The Village of the Damned.

Some say, long ago in times of old, that a band of travelling tinkers once stumbled across a deserted village. Empty of people – but full of skeletons. Their bones scattered across the town square like an abattoir floor. They told of a single vacant noose dangling from the gallows that loomed over the silent village square. But what had really happened there? An epidemic of pestilence? A bandit massacre? Who can say for certain? Perhaps there’s a grain of truth in every ghost story, and that’s what really scares us.

Almost everyone had told their own story by now. There had already been tales of serial killers and ghost ships, dread pirates and horrific contagions that made the skin blister and bones melt. The stories had definitely been getting gorier as the friends had got older, as they’d become intimately familiar with blood and bleeding. More recently, their imaginations had assimilated new vocabularies from horror movies, and the psycho-sexual dramas of the gothic.

Now, it was Evelyn’s turn to pass the candlestick to her left, to the next girl in their circle. The storyteller would be the only one illuminated, a single flame lighting her face as her audience sat timorously in the dark, the speaker’s words conjuring sinister visions between their ears…

Keep reading

Stolen Essence is an erotic ghost story, (and you should read this if you think that’s an oxymoron, or that the macabre can’t be sexually exciting). This tale mixes the supernatural and the kinky, featuring passages that are surreal, fantastical and dream-like. Heavily inspired by the Gothic style, this is a dark, psychological story which, if you think deeply, may generate several possible interpretations as to what actually occurred.

What readers have said about this story:

“I absolutely adored this story, it certainly stimulated my vital Essence.“

“Oh, how I enjoyed the darkness of this particular tale! A perfectly
thrilling story, dancing firmly on the edge of deliciously naughty, and
unsettling eerie. Perfect for Halloween!“

“What an intoxicating darkness. Frightening. Yet so alluring.“

“You made my Halloween all the more thrilling! To set the scene, I brought my
jack-o-lantern into my bedroom to act as the only source of light. I undressed, and sat on the floor, the fanged pumpkin staring back from between my open legs, its strange candlelight making my wetness glisten. And then I read, and stroked myself into another world…”

What do you think?