Free Story - Carousel

And now for something other than cowboys. Here is a free story called Carousel that I wrote some time ago. It's a little bit different, with a hint of something wistful and magical. It's one of those stories that intentionally doesn't explain everything neatly - it leaves the reader a choice in determining events for themselves. I've just finished a follow up, which I will post in a few days time. Hope you enjoy reading it.

Carousel
"I can't keep pace with them all," laughed Mum. She lit up a spliff and exhaled contentedly. "What's his name?"

"Leon," said Elizabeth, dreamily. "Leon Altamarino. Isn't it a wonderful name?"

"What did you say?"

"Leon Altamarino. He's part Spanish and he's gorgeous. He ... Mum? Mum, what's wrong?"

Elizabeth stared at her mother who had slumped down on the nearest chair by the kitchen table. She sat with her head bowed, her hands covering her face; and when she raised her head, her face was ashen and there were beads of perspiration on her brow.

"What is it, Mum? Don't you feel well? Can I get you some water? Or a cup of tea?" Elizabeth flapped around, not knowing what to do.

Mum shook her head, and weakly pushed away the proffered glass of water. "Leon Altamarino," she whispered. "Did you meet him at the travelling fair? Yes, of course you did," she mumbled, answering her own question.

"Yes. Yes I did. But how did you know that? He's asked me out for a drink on Saturday. I can hardly wait! But, Mum - are you ok? You look terrible."

With an effort, Jennifer sat up and forced a smile at her daughter. "It's just a headache, love. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? Karen's on her way round and we're off out to the cinema. But I can cancel and stay home with you if you like."

"No, really. It's good of you to offer, but I really will be fine. There's the doorbell. Karen's here. Off you go and enjoy yourself. Be home before midnight."

"Mum, I'm nearly twenty! I can stay out late if I want to," said Elizabeth, giving her mum a kiss on the cheek.

"I know, but I still worry about you. Have fun. Bye, sweetheart."

"Thanks mum. See you later."


Jennifer sat in the quiet kitchen, smoking her joint, with just the ticking of the wall clock breaking the silence. Leon Altamarino. The name was seductive, fluid, almost musical. She spoke his name aloud, slowly. "Leon Altamarino." There. She had said it. For twenty years that name had been locked within her, and now she had released it, and with it, the memories came hurtling, jostling for supremacy.

It was as though she was looking into a kaleidoscope, and as the tube was rotated, a mass of coloured shapes tumbled and danced, forming intricate patterns, multiplied by reflections in the mirrors set into the tube. Round and round danced the patterns, round and round, like the motion of a fairground carousel.

And in the blink of an eye, through the kaleidoscope she could see the rows of gaily painted wooden horses on the carousel, and as the hidden bevel gears cranked, the horses moved up and down, galloping to the music that blared from the organ built in to the centre of the carousel.

Jennifer smiled. The memory was so clear she could see the intricate detail on the colourful wooden horses; she could hear the din of the fairground organ, with its drums, whistles and tooting horns - producing a sound that was at the same time both fun and wistful and scary. And in the background she could hear the hum of voices as people talked and laughed and squealed in delight and pretend fear. The sun was dipping yet the evening was warm and humid, redolent with the sweet scent of candyfloss and the aroma of hot dogs from the many vendors' stalls.

It was all so familiar. She made her way purposefully to the large carousel on the edge of the fairground. It was lit up with dozens of fairy lights winking pink and blue and green, and it was deserted except for one person - Leon Altamarino. He raised his hand and waved a greeting as she approached, and flashed that wickedly wonderful smile.

"Hello Jennifer," he said, reaching out to hug her.

"Leon," she said. "It's been twenty years and you don't look a day older than when I saw you last." You handsome devil. You haven't changed a bit.

"You are still beautiful." He kissed her fleetingly on the lips, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. "Come." He led her up onto the platform. "Ride the carousel."

"Oh yes!" She laughed with childlike glee, and clambered onto one of the horses. It was painted in green and gold, with a red saddle and a red bridle.

Leon went to the controls in the centre of the carousel platform. "Hold tight," he grinned, and pulled a lever.

The machinery whirred and the horses began to move, slowly at first - a sedate walking pace which escalated to a trot, then a brisk canter, and finally a gallop. Jennifer laughed, and held tightly to the barley twist pole as the momentum increased. A sudden, unexpected jolt caught her unawares, and she gripped the pole tighter, and closed her eyes as a wave of nausea hit her. It took her a few moments to realize what was causing it. The carousel was moving backwards.

It was weird - a bizarre feeling. Jennifer felt as though she was high on cannabis. The air shimmered. She glanced at Leon. He was smiling at her through the haze and telling her to hold tight. So hold tight she did, and at last the carousel began to slow, and the pace of the horses became leisurely. The carousel stopped, and Jennifer slid down from the horse. Leon caught her in his strong arms, then, taking her by the hand, he led her over the field to his caravan.

She felt different somehow - more alive and energetic. There was a new vibrancy about her as she ran over the grass, easily matching Leon's pace. And when they reached his caravan and tumbled inside, he caught her around the waist and pulled her close. He reached out to cup her face, and then he turned her round to observe her reflection in the mirror.

"Look," he told her.

And look she did. And what she saw was not Jennifer, the 40-year-old, but Jennifer the 20-year-old. She was slimmer, brighter, animated and more agile; her face was firm and her hair thick and lustrous. She gazed at her reflection, her mouth open in shock and disbelief. The tiny lines around her eyes and mouth had disappeared, and her skin was smooth and clear as porcelain.

"How can this be?"

"All things are possible if one wants them enough," murmured Leon in her ear. "And I know what you want. But I need you to tell me. Tell me, Jennifer. Tell me what you want of me."

"I... I..." she faltered. "I want - need - you to ... to spank me. Spank me like you did before, all those years ago. Please."

"It will be my pleasure," he said huskily. His hands began to undress her as his eyes devoured her.

Off came her blouse. And then he unclasped her bra and drew the straps down slowly over her shoulders. Stooping, he brushed his lips lightly over her nipples - they were already engorged. Jennifer trembled with excitement and longing. She felt his hands slide her zipper down, and then tug lightly at her skirt. It fell to the floor. She kicked it aside dismissively.

Leon bent to unfasten her sandals. He removed first one and then the other. Now Jennifer faced him, wearing only a pair of pale pink knickers. She felt his hands dart round to fondle her bottom, pinching and patting her well-rounded buttocks. Then he pushed her roughly onto the bed. She got up on her hands and knees and he pulled down her knickers, baring her bottom. And then he started to spank her.

His hand cracked down on her pale bottom. Again and again the spanks descended, and Jennifer wondered how a hand could possibly hurt so much. She squirmed and bucked and yelped; hating it; loving it. Her bottom quickly lost its pale sheen and became a uniform pink.

Leon laughed. "We need more colour. What's it to be, my love? Crop, strap, belt or cane?"

"All of them," she mewled.

"Patience," he smilingly admonished, and picked up the crop.

He used it expertly - lightly at first, enjoying the sharp cracks as it tapped against the whiteness of her inner thighs, and the change in sound as it flicked lightly over her secret places, making her writhe and moan and beg for more. He lashed the back of her thighs. A succession of hard blows soon reddened her milky skin and had her yowling and kicking.

Next, came the thick strap of hard and heavy leather. It thudded down onto the hills of her buttocks, leaving angry red splats and welts in its wake. Jennifer cried out in pain as the strap bit unforgivingly. Her bottom felt red raw and swollen. Tears trickled from her eyes as the strap continued its descent, and then there was a new sensation as he cast it aside and used the soft leather belt.

She purred. This was much nicer. She writhed, arching her back, thrusting out her bottom lewdly, her legs parted, her thighs glistening with the physical evidence of her arousal. The belt snaked over her buttocks in a rhythmic dance. She undulated her hips, crying out in pain or pleasure - she knew not which, for the lines between the two were blurred and indistinguishable.

And then she felt the familiar tap of the tip of the cane; three light introductory taps on her bottom. She shivered, and held her breath, tense and expectant, waiting for the first strike to fall. When it failed to happen, she exhaled, and at that moment, Leon's arm descended, bringing the cane cracking down in a perfect line over her lower buttocks.

Jennifer screamed, her senses reeling, the pain blistering and bubbling. Her bottom burned. And then came another strike of liquid fire, and another, and another as Leon laid on the stripes, one after the other. He was relentless. The pain was relentless. It filled her entire being. She sobbed, her body sagging as she fell forwards, sprawling flat on the bed.

His hands stroked and rubbed and kneaded her wounded flesh. She raised her hips, eager and willing for him to enter her. And as he thrust deep inside her, the air shimmered and rippled, and their hoarse cries blended as their bodies moved in the eternal rhythm.


The next day, Jennifer opened the door and greeted her mother. Irene was standing on the doorstep with a smile on her face, and in her hands was a package tied with pink ribbon. The two women embraced and went to sit in the kitchen to chat and drink coffee.

"I can't believe Elizabeth will be twenty tomorrow. How quickly the years fly by," said Irene. There was a slight wistful tone to her voice, which disappeared with her next remark. She leaned forward conspiratorially, her eyes gleaming. "He's back. I saw him this morning." Irene shifted uncomfortably on her chair and rubbed her bottom.

"I know. I saw him last night. You wouldn't believe how sore I am."

"Yes I would," quipped Irene.

Mother and daughter looked at each other. Their faces wore identical expressions - of wonder and acceptance and passion and excitement, tempered with a tacit understanding of the thing they shared.

"Does Elizabeth know yet?" asked Irene.

"No. I wanted to tell her but felt she should find out for herself."

"Yes, it will be best that way," nodded Irene.

"She's seeing him on Saturday. She'll find out then."

"I wonder how she will react?"

"She will react the same as you and I and Grandmother and Great Grandmother and Great Great Grandmother. Are we charmed, or are we cursed?"

"Probably a bit of both. Let's smoke a joint. I need it."

The kitchen soon filled with the sickly sweet smell of cannabis. The two women lapsed into silence, both of them floating in a welcome haze, both of them picturing the devilishly handsome face and sparkling eyes of Leon Altamarino, and both of them hearing in their head the sound of the fairground organ on the carousel. The music was loud and raucous, punctuated by the clash of cymbals and the discordant tooting of horns. And as the music played, the carousel horses moved round and round, bobbing up and down. Up and down and round and round for all eternity.