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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 1996.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
consideration.
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The Afterlife
by Hal (address withheld)

***

Mr. Duchose had never been a religious man, nor had he 
ever seriously contemplated what might be in store for 
him, if anything, after death. (MF, fantasy, spank)

***

It was a distinct surprise to Mr. Duchose to find 
himself in the empty white room, still lying in bed, but 
clearly not the bed, nor the room, where he had fallen 
asleep. 

He didn't seem to feel entirely himself in other ways. 
When he'd retired for the night, he felt a distinct 
soreness in the throat which usually indicated the onset 
of a bad cold or flu, accompanied by a feverishness and 
headache. His body had the normal aches of a 68-year old 
man, but more intense tonight, more persistent, and he 
had tossed and turned for some time before falling into 
a dreamless and feverish sleep. 

Now, awake, Mr. Duchose felt refreshed, fever-free, pain 
free, and somehow much younger. He felt as if he were 
twenty-one again. And, glancing at his hands, he was 
startled to find that the liver spots and wrinkles to 
which he had been accustomed in his declining years were 
gone. His body felt much younger and more alive; in 
fact, he noted that, for the first time in more years 
than he wished to think about, he was possessed of a 
waking erection of considerable firmness.

What in the hell was going on?

**

A door, previously unnoticed, opened opposite his bed, 
and a tall, balding man in a gray uniform entered. "Good 
day, sir, and welcome," he said. "I trust you had an 
easy passage."

"Passage?" said Mr. Duchose. "Passage? What do you mean? 
Where am I?"

"Ah, yes, of course," responded the stranger. "You don't 
realize yet. Oh, dear, I do dislike these explanations 
and . . .well, it can't be helped. Mr. ah, Mr..." He 
fumbled in his pocket for a notepad and studied it . 
"Mr... yes, here were are... 'Duchose. Age 68. Massive 
heart attack. Single. Lived alone. No previous health 
problems. Will probably be unprepared' I see. Yes. Well, 
Mr. Duchose, I am here to inform you that you are now at 
a new stage of your existence. That is, you are what you 
would describe as 'dead.' 

"Actually it is the wrong term, but that is what you 
would probably call it. Your other life ended last 
night, and you have now arrived here. I am your personal 
servant, and this is your room, and for quite some time, 
perhaps for all 'time' you will 'live' here, and I will 
tend to your needs. You ask for whatever you wish, and I 
will arrange to see that you have it. You are here to 
enjoy whatever you want, and I am here to provide it for 
you." 

Mr. Duchose had never been a religious man, nor had he 
ever seriously contemplated what might be in store for 
him, if anything, after death. He had lived a fairly 
decent life, with a normal share of deception, 
fornication, gluttony, greed, and duplicity, especially 
around his sexual life. He had not been, in his opinion 
a bad person, but he had not been especially good, 
either. 

He was certainly an inherently selfish man, living his 
life for his own satisfaction with no interest in 
marriage or family or the welfare of his fellow man. In 
fact, he was regarded by those who knew him as a 
striving businessman, a bit over-competitive, perhaps, 
always willing to screw anyone who stood in his way, but 
not atypical in this regard. 

Had any of his business associates know, of course, that 
Mr. Duchose had a secret fascination with spanking, a 
life-long obsession with all the literature and art he 
could collect in this regard, a vault of videotapes from 
Shadow Lane, Calstar, Redboard and others, a library 
filled with everything from Victorian birching novels to 
the most recent issues of "Spank Hard," "Ma'am," and 
"Stand Corrected," he might have been vulnerable as a 
corporate executive. 

Had anyone ever learned of his many trips to local 
establishments which allowed him to indulge his passion 
for stripping young women of all types and delivering 
sound spankings to their bared bottoms, he might not 
have been able to remain in the position of power he 
occupied. Yet he never felt that these excursions, or 
his out-of-town liaisons on business trips with ladies 
both professional and amateur, ladies who allowed him to 
spank them, or who, on occasion, put him over their 
knees to redden his backside, and generally followed 
such activities with cunnilingus, fellatio, and sexual 
intercourse, were really sinful, in spite of 
establishment morality. 

He felt that such activities were his own business and 
no one else's, and had he ever thought of an afterlife, 
he would not have expected to be visited by any heavenly 
retribution for his sexual proclivities. Looking about 
him, and now contemplating what seemed to be his 
apportioned due for the life he had led, Mr. Duchose was 
gratified to see that he had been entirely correct in 
this assumption.

Mr. Duchose had never failed to provide for his own 
desires, and his adjustment to his new circumstances was 
rapid. He quickly had his new liveried servant, who 
called himself "Beals" provide his room with comfortable 
furniture, a complete media center, stocked with video 
tapes and CD's, a closet full of silk suits cut in an 
Italian fashion as well as a full variety of sports 
clothes, formal and informal outfits and shoes, and a 
Cuvier's bathtub.  

Before the day was out he had taken a long and luxurious 
steaming bath, dressed in pajamas of gossamer quality, 
and ordered a meal of steak and lobster with exquisite 
soups and sauces to accompany it, followed by a rich 
chocolate dessert, feather light, and freshly-brewed 
coffee of a richness he had never tasted before. With 
some trepidation, he asked Beals if there was any way he 
could have some feminine companionship, and within a 
minute was introduced to a young lady of perfect 
proportions, dewy skin, honeyed lips, and, he discovered 
later, pelvic thrusting which was awesome in its 
strength and unflagging in its duration.

Mr. Duchose spent the next few days exploring the space 
outside his room which seemed to change from day to day 
in ways which fit his desires. If he wished there to be 
a country club at his door, with a freshly trimmed golf 
course, there was. If he preferred a sandy beach with 
Nubia's maidens scattered about, the beach was there for 
him, and so were the maidens. 

He could, simply by asking for it, conjure up a street 
of shops with goods of every description the highest 
quality, and he could take whatever he wished from any 
of them without paying. There were theaters to visit, 
and restaurants to try, and always willing female 
companionship, willing to spend his days in leisure and 
his nights in lustful explorations, and every morning 
his companion would vanish without recriminations on her 
part or any obligations on his. It was, he realized, his 
life as he had wished it to be without obligation or 
concern for anyone but himself. 

Of course, after a time, it became a bit dull. But Beals 
was at his hand to supply work when he wanted it, and 
Mr. Duchose was able to work as he had when he wanted 
to, and he did not let himself be too worried about 
whether or not that work had any real purpose. 

Still, it was not too long before Mr. Duchose became a 
bit restless. He also felt a familiar longing come over 
him, one which had surfaced regularly throughout his 
life, and one which, even though Beals knew him quite 
intimately, he was embarrassed to share with him. But 
before long, the urge became too great to resist, and 
Beals had to be consulted.

"Beals?" Mr. Duchose inquired, "I would like to visit a 
bookstore today where I can find a somewhat special kind 
of literature, related to, uh, well, actually, spanking. 
You know, stories about spankings, drawings, childhood 
experiences, that sort of thing. It interests me."

"Oh, I am sorry sir," said Beals. "We don't have any of 
that here for you."

"How odd," said Mr. Duchose. "Nothing? There must be 
some such place, even here. You do have porno shops 
don't you?"

"Oh, yes sir. We do indeed. But they do not have any of 
that kind of material. No books, no video tapes, no 
magazines concerning spanking. Nothing. Not for you, 
sir. Sorry."

"I don't understand this," said Mr. Duchose. "I thought 
you could get me anything I wanted."

"Not quite," said Beals, with what seemed to be the hint 
of a sly grin.

"Well, how about a girl? Not one for sex, at least not 
just for sex. Beals, can you get me a girl I can spank. 
I mean, I know it may seem odd, but that happens to be 
what interests me, and, well, that's what I want. Make 
her about 18, in a little school-girl uniform, with 
white cotton panties. And get me an old fashioned wooden 
hairbrush while you are at it, and..."

"Sorry. sir. I cannot do that. No spanking here. No one 
will allow you to spank them. No one will spank you. No 
books. No magazines. I cannot discuss it with you, sir. 
No one can. That's the way it is."

"But, Beals, what is this? I have to admit it - spanking 
is the one thing I have always been passionate about. Is 
it really such a bad thing? It's outlawed here? Have I 
been wrong in believing it to be an innocent pastime?"

"Oh, yes, sir, it *is* an innocent pastime. Many others 
enjoy it in the afterlife. It is a wonderful pleasure 
for those who practice it, I understand. In fact, it can 
be especially enjoyable when it can be done openly, and 
endlessly, in front of others, with all ages and sexes, 
in so many ways. It is a delightful erotic pleasure. But 
not here, sir; at least, not for you, sir. Never."

"But Beals, I love spanking. I think of it all the time. 
It has always been the central passion of my life. If I 
can't enjoy spanking, I might as well be in hell!"

"Yes, sir. Well, sir, where did you think you were?"

END

Stealing from many who have told this tale in other 
ways, and hoping to be properly disciplined for this 
theft. -- "Hal"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 1