Tails from the Crypt
The Amulet
By Hawkwood

Carl could have sworn he felt the amulet glowing in his pocket as he smacked the heavy leather strap onto the squirming and now livid buttocks of his latest conquest. The lush-bodied brunette kneeling naked on his bed gasped and sobbed at the obviously painful impact, but her husky voice spoke of arousal as she begged him to be even more severe.

For maybe twenty years, he had dreamed about the opportunity to do something like this. He'd never had much luck with women, especially not the kind of luck that he was knowing these days. He could have his pick, all the women he could enjoy. And he dreaded every minute of it.

He paused to feel the heat from her flesh, trying to remember how many of the burning licks he had given her. He thought it was about three dozen, judging by the dark wine colored bruises, but he wasn't sure. It didn't matter really. She would beg him for more until he got too aroused to continue, and then she would provide him with the most eager cooperation in whatever form of sex took his fancy. The amulet would see to that.

The object in his pocket only weighed about an ounce, but it felt like a millstone more and more. He wondered how many more times he would able to use it before ". Just guessing, he thought he had maybe half a dozen opportunities left, maybe fewer. The brunette would provide him with incredible ecstasy, better than anything he'd ever known, but afterward ", well, best not to think about it.

Carl had found the amulet a couple of months ago at one of those "faires" where everyone dressed up like medieval knights and ladies. One dark and kind of smelly tent had housed an incredibly ugly old woman and her home-made jewelry. It wasn't very pretty jewelry, and the old woman's cackling promise of bewitchment didn't find many takers. Carl had been mildly curious, but was about to pass the tent altogether when the old woman had caught his attention.

"The blonde in the short skirt would be yours for the purchase of an amulet," she cackled.

Carl was sufficiently startled to stop and listen. A little bit before, and clear over on the other side of the fair, he'd seen this incredible young woman, blonde like the hag had suggested, and wearing a very short, tight skirt filled to magnificence with the sexiest buttocks he'd ever seen. He'd gotten so hard imagining that rump over his knees that he'd had to sit down and let the feeling pass. The blonde had wandered off and try as he would, he couldn't find her again. He wondered how the old woman had known about his sudden infatuation.

Unable to think of an answer, he asked her: "How did you know?"

She just smiled. "Does it matter? One of my philtres can have her in love with you by this afternoon."

Carl felt his face wrinkle a bit. "Love" hadn't quite been what he'd had in mind.

"Oh," the old woman said, feigning surprise, "it isn't love you seek after all! Well, I have many treasures, one for every desire."

She held up one of the odd amulets from her collection. "With this in your pocket, she will be across your knees and in your bed. Is that worth half a hundred dollars?"

"Fifty bucks?" he exploded, not realizing how well the old woman had gauged his desires, "You got to be kidding! That's a week's groceries for a piece of, what, pewter?"

Still speaking so only Carl could hear, the woman shook her head. "But for a piece of ass? Especially an ass like that one! Can you not imagine how lovely she would be under the paddle?" Carl realized he was painfully erect again, imagining just that.

"What do you mean?" he insisted, embarrassed. "Are you telling me this is some kind of love charm?"

The old woman shrugged. "No, it has nothing to do with love. Do you wish to marry her? Or merely to warm her bottom thoroughly and have her please you after?"

Carl flushed at the way she seemed to read his mind and looked askance at the amulet. "And I'm supposed to believe this thing could get me that?"

The woman nodded and glanced meaningfully behind her customer. Carl looked around and there she was! The blonde was examining the wares in a booth just across the aisle, not twenty feet from him. Then, to his astonishment, she bent down to examine one of the objects. Her skirt rode up behind, exposing the lower slopes of her buttocks and proving conclusively that she wore no undergarment. The rounded flesh was even more beautiful than he had imagined.

As if reading his mind, the woman continued: "Buttocks like those deserve the paddle, don't you think? It would be a shame to let such an opportunity pass merely to save a couple of bucks."

Carl couldn't stand it any longer. He did not believe in magic charms, but if there was any chance at all, he could not afford not to take it. He dug a twenty and three tens from his wallet and took the amulet.

The smiling hag took his money, and just as he was about to leave, she caught his sleeve. "Don't have too much fun now," she had said. Carl hadn't realized the significance of that until sometime later.

Still afraid to hope, he went over to the booth that had attracted the blonde's eye. It seemed to be selling carved wooden kitchen utensils, spoons and the like. Then he saw that her attention was riveted to a kind of spatula for lifting baked goods. The flat blade looked for all the world like one of the college fraternity paddles.

Not knowing why, Carl whispered that he thought he could find a use for something like that. The blonde looked at him wide-eyed. "God, I hope so!" she announced. "I've been hinting for an hour and no one has paid any attention."

Breathing a bit unevenly, Carl bought the spatula and asked her if she would like him to demonstrate it for her. She licked her lips and whispered: "What kept you?"

He took her to his small apartment nearby, his erection almost painful in his trousers. At one point, in a lonely alley, he had ventured a caress of her tightly skirted bottom and she had moved against him and moaned. Once inside his place, she had melted into an impetuous embrace, kissing him deeply, her tongue teasing his.

Then she had pulled her head back and gotten a very serious look on her face. "If you don't blister me tonight," she said, "I'll never speak to you again."

Carl had sat on his bed and the blonde had eagerly tugged her short skirt up to her waist and lain across his knees. The sight of her buttocks all bare and offered to the paddle was the most exciting thing he had ever seen. He swatted her somewhat tentatively and she had giggled. A much harder impact drew a gasp and a wriggle, but no protest. Taking that for encouragement, he began to apply the paddle quite hard, watching the lovely buttocks grow pink, then red and a mottled purple.

The blonde gasped and wriggled lewdly under this attack, but her attitude was one of rapture, not distress. She made only a few coherent statements, but these were of encouragement, not objection.

All too soon, Carl saw the beginnings of a blister on one of her cheeks, but he wasn't quite ready to stop yet. Nor, it seemed, did she want him to. He smacked the board onto her scalded flesh all the harder, until there could be no question that the decorations in question were truly present.

When he finally dropped the paddle, she had turned so suddenly as to startle him and kissed him passionately. Then sinking to her knees on the floor, she had opened his trousers and taken his erection eagerly between her lips. Stunned, Carl thought he was in Heaven. He had enjoyed such pleasures rarely and his partners had been both reluctant and inexperienced. By contrast, the blonde was incredibly expert. She kept him at a pinnacle of ecstasy for what seemed like hours before finally drawing an powerful explosion from his body.

Lying back on the bed, he could barely move as the blonde rose and examined her bottom in the mirror. She had winced as she touched one of the blisters, then smiled broadly. "That was incredible," she assured him. "I haven't had a spanking like that in months. You were wonderful!" She had kissed him again, tugged her skirt down in some obvious discomfort, and left. Exhausted, Carl had gone almost immediately to sleep.

He awoke the next morning to the blues. Still fully dressed, he felt almost as hung over as if he had been drinking. He could barely remember the events of the night before, only the general feeling of ecstasy was fresh in his mind. He showered and dressed for work without enthusiasm. Mondays were never fun, but this one had been exceptionally trying. He found himself struggling to concentrate and getting very little done.

Nor did it improve the next day. Carl seemed mired in some sort of formless depression which he couldn't shake. It was Thursday before he even noticed the new girl in the steno pool. He was really slipping, he told himself; the new girl was pretty spectacular. She was young, just out of school by the looks of her, short and cuddly, with red hair and a very nice build. He especially like the way her bottom moved under her business-like skirt when she walked.

The next day, she brought him some letters to be signed, and he frowned to discover half a dozen misspelled words. Circling them in red, he called her back to his desk. She had seemed very embarrassed and promised to correct them immediately. Again without knowing why, he asked her: "Did you make mistakes like that in school?"

She had flushed. "Oh no!," she insisted. "We lived with momma's brother when I was in school, and he was the school principal! If I'd taken papers home that looked like these, my Uncle Joe would have switched my ass until I couldn't sit down for a week!" Carl was suddenly aware of the amulet in his pocket, and felt something change in the room. He grew powerfully erect at the thought of her bottom being switched. The girl looked frightened. "You're not going to fire me, are you?"

"No," he said, "That's a bit extreme, especially for a first offense. I think your uncle had the right idea."

To his surprise, she had smiled. "He sure did!" she agreed. "I was never so careful in my life as I was after one of his switchings. Uncle Joe didn't believe in half measures. He'd plumb wear out two or three good switches on my bare ass! He always left me so sore I wouldn't dare misspell a word for weeks! I expect I've gotten a lot more careless since I moved out." She looked at him then, eyes suddenly wide with recognition of his interest. "I guess I really need another dose, don't I?"

Carl had nodded, unable to speak. He wrote his address on the back of a business card and gave it to her. Clearing his throat, he asked her if eight o'clock would be about right? She had flushed again. "Do you want me to cut the switches myself? I remember how Uncle Joe liked them: as long as his arm and as thick as his little finger!" Carl had mumbled that that would be just fine.

Promptly at eight, she had rung his doorbell. He was instantly erect as he accepted the three stout switches she offered him. "Will these do?" she asked. "Uncle Joe could have taken some skin off me for sure with these!" Carl agreed that they would be adequate. The switches were each nearly three feet long and very limber, with buds and twigs along their length. The girl trembled with anticipation as he examined them. "Uncle Joe always made me get naked for a switching," she told him. "Would you like that too?"

Carl wondered a bit about the girl's relationship with her uncle, but he nodded. Showing only a bit of nervousness, she quickly removed her clothing. Naked, she was even more spectacular. Without his asking, she had brought a wooden chair to the middle of the room and bent across the back of it. She parted her thighs for balance took a tight grip on the chair's seat. She turned to look back at him. "Now you don't need be shy about this," she said. "Uncle Joe always said there wasn't much point in a switching that didn't leave marks for a week. And besides, I can't afford to get fired for being careless."

Utterly enchanted, Carl had begun to apply the switch to the girl's shapely and squirming bottom. The cuts were light and merely stinging at first. But as the pink lines melded and darkened into a red bird's nest on her flesh, Carl's excitement made him apply himself much more vigorously to the task. The girl had begun to sob and her buttocks were clenching in obvious distress, but like the blonde, she made no objection to the severity of the whipping. An occasional "Oh, Sir!," or "Sheee-it!" escaped her lips to prove the effectiveness of the switching, but she seemed to apologize for these lapses by lifting herself on her toes and offering her ass for another of the burning cuts.

Carl wore out two of the switches and had started on the third when his lust overcame him. Dropping the switch, he stepped behind the redhead and grasped her hips. In her own world of pain or pleasure, the girl had mistaken who he was. "Oh yes, uncle, please! Show me you forgive me!" Carl thought he understood a little more about her then, but as he started to enter her sex, she had squirmed and objected. "Oh, uncle, no! Not there! Do it like you always do." Shocked, Carl had realized what she meant and reaimed his lust at her nether passage. She had actually sighed with pleasure as he entered her t ight rectum. "Oh, yes! That's so good. Forgive me now." She began to move against him.

Carl found the girl's hot, squirming buttocks a special stimulus against his belly as he worked himself deeply into her. The pressure in his loins mounted steadily as the pleasure washed through him. He felt an intensity of rapture in the redhead's spasming bowel that was even greater than the blondes lips and tongue had aroused. The girl moaned and gasped, and made it clear she was enjoying it as much as he as she thrust herself back against him. When he finally reached his climax, he pumped what seemed like gallons of his seed into her and she trembled in matching ecstasy until he withdrew his spent organ.

The little redhead stayed over the chair for several minutes, evidently unable to rise. Her well marked bottom squirmed uncontrollably as he watched. Carl thought again that he had died and gone to Heaven. When she finally managed to rise, she had turned to him and kissed him. She seemed to know who he was again, but if she had any animosity over her treatment, she didn't show it. Aroused again, Carl had taken her to his bed, and she had been an eager partner, encouraging him to pinch her tender buttocks as he fucked her.

She remained in his apartment, naked, for nearly an hour before she felt able to endure the pressure of clothing on her buttocks. She spent most of the time alternately apologizing for her shortcomings at work, and thanking Carl for his "generosity" in whipping her instead of terminating her position.

When she finally left, Carl felt the depression returning. The next day, he could barely get out of bed. He managed to struggle to the kitchen once, and ate a half can of cold green beans, but otherwise he simply lay down, seemingly too tired to move.

By the following Monday, work was pure torture. The redhead had called in sick, which Carl thought was probably the result of her bottom being too sore to sit on. He tried to concentrate, but simply could not. At noon, his boss had suggested that he was catching the flu or something and sent him home. That was no better. He stared at the walls for a while, took a stiff drink and went back to bed. It was three days before he could reasonably account for himself at work, and even then it was a struggle.

He began to see a pattern in this. Each night of incredible ecstasy was paid for with a comparably deep pit of depression after. The old woman's warning not to have too much fun suddenly became very important. Like some kind of addictive drug, his pleasures dropped him from ever higher raptures to ever lower despair. And like a drug, he thought the only answer was to quit, cold turkey. He threw the amulet into the waste basket that evening and took a cold shower.

His resolve lasted almost a week. He was shopping for groceries one night when a rather delightfully buxom middle-aged woman had dropped an apple on the floor and bent over to retrieve it. Her already tight shorts seemed ready to burst stretched across her full rump, and Carl came rigidly erect as the thought suddenly hit him of those buttocks bare and under a strap. Incredibly, he felt the amulet in his pocket again! He knew he hadn't put it there, but its presence was already influencing affairs.

Without quite knowing how he had done it, Carl had spent the night with the woman, alternately strapping her ample buttocks and fucking her. She had been insatiable, always trying to keep him aroused, and insisting on another dose of the leather before she would give him release. By morning, he felt like he had been dragged through a knothole.

It took him a week to get to back to work that time, and his boss had begun to make pointed suggestions that he "get help" with whatever his problem was. Carl could see his job disappearing under him if he kept this up.

But how could he quit? He had never felt anything so delightful in his life as his evenings under the amulet's power. The women had eagerly offered him pleasures he had only imagined before. And when he had TRIED to quit, the amulet hadn't let him! Somewhere after his fifth or sixth encounter (he couldn't quite keep track any more), he began to have thoughts of suicide.

He was astute enough to recognize these as the result of depression, but that didn't help much. His misery was so incredible that he thought death might just be welcome. And the amulet wouldn't let him go! Whenever he least expected it, another incredibly beautiful woman would come around practically volunteering to be thrashed. When he lost his job somewhere after the first dozen women, he had bought a gun.

The brunette on the bed moaned as his hand explored between her thighs, then she lifted herself in invitation. "Please," she sobbed, "don't stop now!" Carl took a deep breath and resumed strapping her ass.

© Hawkwood 2002