It was a chilly night in October. I had been traveling by train through Central Europe, and earlier that day, I had stopped in a small Polish town that I'd already forgotten the name of. I was heading back to the hotel after a long day exploring the sights, and I decided to take a shortcut through the town's graveyard.
To my surprise, I found myself somewhat on edge as I walked through the graveyard under the light of the full moon. I had never considered myself a superstitious man, but there was still something unsettling about the statues and tombs around me. Compared to the simple, unadorned cemeteries back home, it looked like the setting of a horror movie. I spotted one particularly life-like marble sculpture of a crying girl, which was so realistic that I almost imagined that I could hear her weeping.
Suddenly, I realized that I COULD, in fact, hear weeping. Then, the statue moved.
It was a young woman, about twenty years old or so. No woman alive could have skin that pale, and when she looked in my direction, her sorrowful gaze revealed eyes from beyond the grave. There was no doubt that I was looking at a ghost.
My eyes widened. This couldn't be happening, could it? I was face to face with the living dead. The hair on my arms stood up, and I shivered, but the girl did not seem inclined to attack me. If anything, she almost seemed scared of me.
Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I did the only thing I could think of: I held out my hand to the grieving girl. "Hi, I'm Adam. Are you OK?"
The girl stared at me. A smile briefly graced her lips, before she reached out to shake my hand. Her touch was like a cold breeze. "I'm Krystyna," she said, her voice a strangely echoing whisper. I found her soft accent curiously alluring. "You are the first man I can remember who does not run away at the sight of me."
"I don't make a habit of running away from pretty ladies," I told her, earning me another smile. "Is everything alright?" I asked. Stupid question, I guess – she was dead!
"I… I cannot rest," she admitted, staring mournfully out across the cemetery. "I was foolish in life, and I still pay for it in death."
"Foolish how?"
She stared at the ground at her feet. "I never listened to my parents. Always thought I knew better than them. Never took their advice." Her eyes moistened again, and she blinked rapidly to clear them. "They told me not to go to the party when there was a storm coming, and I went. They told me to at least wear a jacket, and I did not." There was a pause, before she managed to continue. "That night, tired and cold, with a bottle of liquor in my hand, I passed away on the cold ground."
She shivered at the memory, and I instinctively took my jacket off and placed it over her shoulders. That seemed to wake her from her daze, and she grinned as she handed it back.
"Clothing does not warm the dead," she pointed out. "But thank you. You are a good man."
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
She seemed thoughtful. "I was never sufficiently punished for my disobedience – for my foolishness. I was sometimes bent over the knee for my mother's spoon or my father's belt, but not often enough. If I was, I would not have behaved like that. And I was never punished for my final misbehaviour." Her eyes brimmed with tears again.
"You froze to death," I pointed out. "Sounds like you've been punished more than enough."
She shook her head. "No. That is not the same as loving discipline – that was just cold and careless consequences. I need to be taken in hand, to be corrected and cared for." She looked at me, examining me for a few seconds before making her decision. "Adam, will you take me over your knee and spank me?"
I stared at her. Here I was, standing in the cemetery of a small Polish town I couldn't remember or spell the name of, and a ghost girl had just asked me to spank her. The things you see on vacation…
"As you wish," I told her gently. If this was what she wanted, I would do it.
She smiled nervously. "You understand, it must be a proper spanking, like the ones my dear father gave me. Long and hard, until I am truly sorry, and …" She blushed. "On the… you must take my …" She waves her hands vaguely toward her skirt.
"On the bare?" I suggested. "With your panties down?"
Blushing even more, she nodded. "Yes."
I sat down on a fallen log, crooking my finger in the girl's direction. "Come here, Krystyna," I said sternly. She approached, quivering slightly. "You have been a naughty girl, and I have to punish you," I scolded, deciding to play the part she needed.
"Yes, sir," she mumbled, lowering her eyes meekly.
"Over my knee," I ordered, and patted my thigh. Obediently, she leaned forward, placing herself over my lap. I reached down and grabbed the hem of her skirt. I wasn't entirely sure whether it was actually possible to undress a ghost, but I was going to give it a try.
It turned out it WAS possible – though flimsy and somewhat insubstantial in my hand, the skirt was an object distinct from her body. I raised her skirt, revealing a pair of modest panties. Deciding to start off gently, I left them in place for now. I patted her cheeks, which shivered in anticipation under my palm. "Are you ready, Krystyna?"
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
I started to spank her cute little rear-end. It felt cold, like dipping my hand in ice, but her flesh proved to be more tangible than I had thought. There was an actual smacking sound as my palm landed on her buns.
I moved my hand from cheek to cheek, spanking fast, but not very hard – at least for now. I was not in a hurry, and I had decided to do it properly. She winced slightly as I spanked her, but she didn't cry out.
Gradually, I started to spank harder and faster. As the sting grew, I heard her squealing and moaning every time my palm landed, and she had started to fidget over my lap.
Focusing my attention on the lower parts of her bottom, I saw her cross and uncross her legs with the rising heat in her seat. I grinned at the adorable sight, but I forced myself put those thoughts out of my mind. Spanking a ghost turned out to be more fun than I had expected, but I was determined to do it to help her, not for my own enjoyment.
"Ow!" she exclaimed at a particularly hard smack. "I am very sorry for being disobedient, sir!"
"I'm sure you are," I told her sternly. "But not as sorry as you're going to be." I placed my fingers in the waistband of her panties. She whimpered and hung her head, but she did not protest as I slipped her panties down to her knees. Her bottom was glowing pink, but I could see a few spots that were not as well-marked as the rest, so I decided to focus my attention on those.
My hand continued to slam down on her soft cheeks, and it did not take long before she had tears in her eyes, but I was unmoved – she'd asked for a real spanking, and that was what she was going to receive. My hand continued to move from side to side, flattening her curvy rear with every slap.
She was now squirming around over my knee, crying and kicking her legs, but I kept spanking her. A smile of satisfaction crossed my lips as she began to plead for mercy, promising to be a good girl.
When she sounded sufficiently sincere, I decided she'd suffered enough. I stopped spanking her, soothingly rubbing her red rear as I told her that she was forgiven and that she'd been very brave.
Soon, she was sitting on my lap, crying against my shoulder as I comforted her. After some time, she looked into my eyes. "Thank you, Adam," she said. Her lips met mine, and I kissed her back. Suddenly, the woman in my lap turned to mist, and I was alone in the graveyard, with nothing but the memory of her lips.
I continued on my way, thinking about what had occurred. It still didn't seem real. I had been heading back toward the hotel, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, so I found the nearest bar. It was a quiet night – just me and the bartender, a young woman with a charming smile. "Brandy, please," I told her, still somewhat in a state of shock.
"You look pale," she said as she poured me the drink. "Are you alright?"
I took a sip. "I've just been through the graveyard, and –" I stopped. How exactly was I going to explain my evening without sounding like a raving lunatic?
She grinned. "Oh, you met Krystyna, did you? I'm not surprised – she likes handsome men."
I should probably have responded to the compliment, but that did not occur to me. I just stared at the bartender, trying to process what she'd said.
"So, did you talk to her? Did she give you the spiel about not being able to rest, about – Oh, I see from your face she did." The bartender smiled and shook her head. "I don't know if that girl was ever taken over someone's knee in life, but she's certainly seen her fair share of spankings in death. Dozens of them – if not hundreds. She really enjoys it, doesn't she?"
I was still speechless. Not only had I encountered a ghost, not only had I placed her over my knee and spanked her, but I had also been lied to! I had been brazenly deceived!
The bartender grinned at my expression. "Oh, you're not the first young man who's been taken in by her pretty words. I'm sure that if you return there tomorrow, you can make sure she's properly punished for her deceit." Her smile grew wider. "In fact, if you come here and see me before you go, I'll even lend you my hairbrush."
"I'd like that," I said as calmly as I could, draining the rest of the glass. Hopefully, Krystyna would be there tomorrow. My palm began to itch as I imagined what I would do to her, and I smiled.
To my surprise, I found myself somewhat on edge as I walked through the graveyard under the light of the full moon. I had never considered myself a superstitious man, but there was still something unsettling about the statues and tombs around me. Compared to the simple, unadorned cemeteries back home, it looked like the setting of a horror movie. I spotted one particularly life-like marble sculpture of a crying girl, which was so realistic that I almost imagined that I could hear her weeping.
Suddenly, I realized that I COULD, in fact, hear weeping. Then, the statue moved.
It was a young woman, about twenty years old or so. No woman alive could have skin that pale, and when she looked in my direction, her sorrowful gaze revealed eyes from beyond the grave. There was no doubt that I was looking at a ghost.
My eyes widened. This couldn't be happening, could it? I was face to face with the living dead. The hair on my arms stood up, and I shivered, but the girl did not seem inclined to attack me. If anything, she almost seemed scared of me.
Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I did the only thing I could think of: I held out my hand to the grieving girl. "Hi, I'm Adam. Are you OK?"
The girl stared at me. A smile briefly graced her lips, before she reached out to shake my hand. Her touch was like a cold breeze. "I'm Krystyna," she said, her voice a strangely echoing whisper. I found her soft accent curiously alluring. "You are the first man I can remember who does not run away at the sight of me."
"I don't make a habit of running away from pretty ladies," I told her, earning me another smile. "Is everything alright?" I asked. Stupid question, I guess – she was dead!
"I… I cannot rest," she admitted, staring mournfully out across the cemetery. "I was foolish in life, and I still pay for it in death."
"Foolish how?"
She stared at the ground at her feet. "I never listened to my parents. Always thought I knew better than them. Never took their advice." Her eyes moistened again, and she blinked rapidly to clear them. "They told me not to go to the party when there was a storm coming, and I went. They told me to at least wear a jacket, and I did not." There was a pause, before she managed to continue. "That night, tired and cold, with a bottle of liquor in my hand, I passed away on the cold ground."
She shivered at the memory, and I instinctively took my jacket off and placed it over her shoulders. That seemed to wake her from her daze, and she grinned as she handed it back.
"Clothing does not warm the dead," she pointed out. "But thank you. You are a good man."
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
She seemed thoughtful. "I was never sufficiently punished for my disobedience – for my foolishness. I was sometimes bent over the knee for my mother's spoon or my father's belt, but not often enough. If I was, I would not have behaved like that. And I was never punished for my final misbehaviour." Her eyes brimmed with tears again.
"You froze to death," I pointed out. "Sounds like you've been punished more than enough."
She shook her head. "No. That is not the same as loving discipline – that was just cold and careless consequences. I need to be taken in hand, to be corrected and cared for." She looked at me, examining me for a few seconds before making her decision. "Adam, will you take me over your knee and spank me?"
I stared at her. Here I was, standing in the cemetery of a small Polish town I couldn't remember or spell the name of, and a ghost girl had just asked me to spank her. The things you see on vacation…
"As you wish," I told her gently. If this was what she wanted, I would do it.
She smiled nervously. "You understand, it must be a proper spanking, like the ones my dear father gave me. Long and hard, until I am truly sorry, and …" She blushed. "On the… you must take my …" She waves her hands vaguely toward her skirt.
"On the bare?" I suggested. "With your panties down?"
Blushing even more, she nodded. "Yes."
I sat down on a fallen log, crooking my finger in the girl's direction. "Come here, Krystyna," I said sternly. She approached, quivering slightly. "You have been a naughty girl, and I have to punish you," I scolded, deciding to play the part she needed.
"Yes, sir," she mumbled, lowering her eyes meekly.
"Over my knee," I ordered, and patted my thigh. Obediently, she leaned forward, placing herself over my lap. I reached down and grabbed the hem of her skirt. I wasn't entirely sure whether it was actually possible to undress a ghost, but I was going to give it a try.
It turned out it WAS possible – though flimsy and somewhat insubstantial in my hand, the skirt was an object distinct from her body. I raised her skirt, revealing a pair of modest panties. Deciding to start off gently, I left them in place for now. I patted her cheeks, which shivered in anticipation under my palm. "Are you ready, Krystyna?"
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
I started to spank her cute little rear-end. It felt cold, like dipping my hand in ice, but her flesh proved to be more tangible than I had thought. There was an actual smacking sound as my palm landed on her buns.
I moved my hand from cheek to cheek, spanking fast, but not very hard – at least for now. I was not in a hurry, and I had decided to do it properly. She winced slightly as I spanked her, but she didn't cry out.
Gradually, I started to spank harder and faster. As the sting grew, I heard her squealing and moaning every time my palm landed, and she had started to fidget over my lap.
Focusing my attention on the lower parts of her bottom, I saw her cross and uncross her legs with the rising heat in her seat. I grinned at the adorable sight, but I forced myself put those thoughts out of my mind. Spanking a ghost turned out to be more fun than I had expected, but I was determined to do it to help her, not for my own enjoyment.
"Ow!" she exclaimed at a particularly hard smack. "I am very sorry for being disobedient, sir!"
"I'm sure you are," I told her sternly. "But not as sorry as you're going to be." I placed my fingers in the waistband of her panties. She whimpered and hung her head, but she did not protest as I slipped her panties down to her knees. Her bottom was glowing pink, but I could see a few spots that were not as well-marked as the rest, so I decided to focus my attention on those.
My hand continued to slam down on her soft cheeks, and it did not take long before she had tears in her eyes, but I was unmoved – she'd asked for a real spanking, and that was what she was going to receive. My hand continued to move from side to side, flattening her curvy rear with every slap.
She was now squirming around over my knee, crying and kicking her legs, but I kept spanking her. A smile of satisfaction crossed my lips as she began to plead for mercy, promising to be a good girl.
When she sounded sufficiently sincere, I decided she'd suffered enough. I stopped spanking her, soothingly rubbing her red rear as I told her that she was forgiven and that she'd been very brave.
Soon, she was sitting on my lap, crying against my shoulder as I comforted her. After some time, she looked into my eyes. "Thank you, Adam," she said. Her lips met mine, and I kissed her back. Suddenly, the woman in my lap turned to mist, and I was alone in the graveyard, with nothing but the memory of her lips.
I continued on my way, thinking about what had occurred. It still didn't seem real. I had been heading back toward the hotel, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, so I found the nearest bar. It was a quiet night – just me and the bartender, a young woman with a charming smile. "Brandy, please," I told her, still somewhat in a state of shock.
"You look pale," she said as she poured me the drink. "Are you alright?"
I took a sip. "I've just been through the graveyard, and –" I stopped. How exactly was I going to explain my evening without sounding like a raving lunatic?
She grinned. "Oh, you met Krystyna, did you? I'm not surprised – she likes handsome men."
I should probably have responded to the compliment, but that did not occur to me. I just stared at the bartender, trying to process what she'd said.
"So, did you talk to her? Did she give you the spiel about not being able to rest, about – Oh, I see from your face she did." The bartender smiled and shook her head. "I don't know if that girl was ever taken over someone's knee in life, but she's certainly seen her fair share of spankings in death. Dozens of them – if not hundreds. She really enjoys it, doesn't she?"
I was still speechless. Not only had I encountered a ghost, not only had I placed her over my knee and spanked her, but I had also been lied to! I had been brazenly deceived!
The bartender grinned at my expression. "Oh, you're not the first young man who's been taken in by her pretty words. I'm sure that if you return there tomorrow, you can make sure she's properly punished for her deceit." Her smile grew wider. "In fact, if you come here and see me before you go, I'll even lend you my hairbrush."
"I'd like that," I said as calmly as I could, draining the rest of the glass. Hopefully, Krystyna would be there tomorrow. My palm began to itch as I imagined what I would do to her, and I smiled.
A fun read. Thank you.
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