From: misslilyo@aol.com (MissLilyO) Subject: zzz-NEW STORY: THE END OF THE RAINBOW byMissLilyO (M/F,nc) Date: 10 Mar 1997 15:21:27 GMT Hi, everyone! I'm going to be away and I wanted to get this posted in time for St. Patrick's day! It contains a nc spanking of a deserving young lady by a "bulk challenged" male. If you're over 18 and want to find out what "bulk challenged" means, read on. If you're under 18, don't you know what happens to naughty boys and girls who read things they're not supposed to? Orphan Annie knew. "The boogie man'll getcha if you don't watch out." Hope you like this. Love, Lily P S. If it doesn't post the first time from good old AOL, watch for follow-ups. Sigh. __________________________________________________ THE END OF THE RAINBOW by MissLilyO Colleen stood in the midst of her spotless apartment. The unit was in a large turn-of-the-century home and had beautiful dark wood trim around the doors, and for the wainscot. With the fragrance of lemon oil lingering in the air, the wood glowed with the healthy gleam of good polish. Everything was straightened, dusted. The curtains were freshly washed, perfectly starched, and hung in even pleats at the casements, where the light streamed in from gleaming and smudgeless window panes. Even the upholstery had the look of being recently steam-cleaned, the overstuffed couch and chairs plumped and arranged with care. Colleen was a study in gape-mouthed wonder. Her legs would barely hold her up as she walked slowly from room to room, taking in the spotless order of the apartment. In the four years she had lived there, she couldn't remember ever seeing her bedroom floor before, so strewn with her clothes was it. Now she could see the delicate rose pattern woven into the spic and span gray carpeting, for her clothes were hung in the closet, blouses and slacks at one end, dresses and skirts at the other, coordinated by color group. Half an hour later, a scowling policeman stood in the middle of her living room. "So what you're telling me, lady, is that somebody broke into your place and CLEANED it? Last time I checked, there's no law about breaking and cleaning." His voice dripped with sarcasm. Furious, Colleen sputtered, "Is...is....isn't there a law about TRESPASSING? You mean to say a person can just break into somebody's house while they're gone any old time they want to?" Her green eyes flashed dangerously at the cop. "I don't see no sign of forced entry, lady," he said, with a shrug. "Whoever did this had a key, or you failed to lock your door." "Ohhhh, no I didn't!" she insisted. "Look at those locks!" There were two regular locks and two big deadbolts. "I don't set foot outside this house until it's locked up tighter than a drum." "Right," the cop said. "Only this time you forgot, or you gave somebody the key. Look, lady, didn't you say nothing had been taken?" "Well....I can't see that anything is missing, but you have to DO something!" He had asked her some more questions, took down her phone number and where she worked, (at least she thought she still worked there--she was late to work for the third time this month), and told her to call the desk sergeant and leave a message if she discovered any of her things missing later on. After he left, she was in an absolute dither. Still shaking, she went to the cupboard and took down a bottle of good Irish whiskey and helped herself to a generous dollop, which she downed in one gulp. Setting the glass on the counter, she took another spin around the apartment, her brain numb from trying to imagine who would come into her home like this. When she left for work this morning the place had looked like it always had--a sty. In fact, were word to get out that analogy had been used, the Piglets of America group would stage a protest. Colleen had head-turning beauty, with gleaming chestnut curls, wide blue eyes framed by long eyelashes, skin as fine and soft as a mist on Killarney's lakes, and a lovely Shirley Temple dimpled smile. Unfortunately, her good looks had gotten her out of the usual chores boys and girls must learn to do at home, spoiled rotten she was. As a consequence, when she left home and Mother no longer picked up after her, she became an inveterate slob. Her clothes were hung on the floor, lying in heaps wherever she happened to be where she dropped them. The bathroom sink had never seen the swipe of a cleanser, the shower mold was developing self-awareness, and the flora growing in the refrigerator had begun to wave softly when the door was opened. Even the little gray kitty seemed glad to see her for a change, weaving affectionately in and out of her legs, purring loudly instead of howling reproachfully at her for forgetting to set out fresh water and Meow Mix. The cat's water and food bowl were freshly scrubbed and filled, and the litter box sweet and fresh as a daisy. Something really WEIRD was going on around the place. As she closed the door for work the next morning, she noted with a start that the whiskey glass was no longer on the counter. Her stomach flipped over and she saw it had been washed, dried to a shine, and put away. She looked in the cupboards and all the dishes had been neatly stacked, the glasses arranged by type, new shelf lining, crisp and white, on every shelf. "Oh, my god!" she exclaimed. "Somebody's been IN here during the night!!" In a terrified rush, she left the apartment, taking her time securing the locks, and testing the knob firmly before hurrying to work. She barely skimmed in at 8 a.m. and as she took her seat, she looked up to find Ms. Turner beaming at her. "Well, Miss O'Reilly," said the older woman, "I must say, I hadn't expected this of you." Anticipating the pink slip, Colleen was trying to arrange an "I don't care" expression on her pretty features when Ms. Turner continued. "Your work on this report was as nice as anything I've ever seen. With the sloppy efforts before and your habitual tardiness, I was ready to put you on probation, but perhaps I've been hasty in evaluating your work. I took the liberty of showing this to Mr. Goldsmith and he was enormously pleased as well. In fact, Miss O'Reilly, your ideas have the potential to save this firm a tidy sum of overhead in the future, and Mr. Goldsmith has arranged to give you a bonus. We believe in sharing the benefits with our employees when they contribute something this important to the company. Well done, dear. Let's hope we see you continue in this vein." With that, the matronly lady moved away, having left behind the report which had garnered such positive attention. Colleen was dumbfounded to see a beautifully presented report contained in a three-ring notebook with a colorful graphic on the front. The typing inside was flawless, and as she read the ideas, HER ideas actually-- but far better organized, outlined, and expressed than she would have done--she couldn't believe what she was seeing. There was her name at the bottom of every page, as company policy dictated, yet she knew perfectly well she had not put that report together. Colleen walked around in a fog all day. At 3 o'clock, her phone rang. "Miss O'Reilly? This is Shawna Bennett, from your credit card company..." The hackles rose on the back of Colleen's neck. What excuse could she give them this week for not having paid the amount she'd promised last week? "...and I just wanted to say thank you for retiring your balance in full. We shall, of course, be glad at this time to send you a new credit card. And, we have taken the liberty of increasing your credit limit. In fact, your credit report was just run and I see you've cleaned up all the past due items. That's very commendable, Miss O'Reilly. I know we've had some unpleasant conversations recently, but we have no hard feelings, and appreciate your bringing your account up to speed." Colleen's head was buzzing. She walked out of the office at 5 like a zombie, afraid to go home, afraid not to. Sure enough, every lock on her door was still fastened solidly, exactly as she'd left them. She looked around, finding nothing had changed from this morning. Little Shamrock, meowing happily, rushed up to greet her, tail raised high and purring. Colleen scooped up the gray bit of fluff and walked into her bedroom. She started to throw her jacket on the floor, but thought better of it and went to the closet to hang it up. With a start, she noted that the tear in the armhole of her purple bathrobe had been neatly repaired! With a sob, she pulled out garment after garment that had had a stain, a little rip, a button missing. Every one was like new. Colleen sank to the floor and wept. "I'm going crazy!" she moaned. "They're going to come and take me to the funny farm. Oh WHY is this happening?" "Don't be melodramatic!" came the reply. Colleen leapt up from her crouch and raced for the door, which slammed shut in her face. She barely avoided scrunching into it. "Sit down on the bed, young lady, it's time we had a little talk." The voice was so odd, tiny and tinny, with a dancing lilt. Colleen looked around and saw no one. She WAS nuts. Bonkers. Her combination plate was about two tacos short. White coats and basket weaving, thorazine with a Kool-Aid chaser. That was her future. She began to rock and keen. "I hate that noise! Knock it off, darlin, or I'll be makin yer wish ya had!" The voice was coming from the direction of her bed, and with a startled cry Colleen finally spotted the source. There, sitting cross-legged atop the bookcase headboard, was a tiny man dressed all in green. The girl shook her head, curls tossing, eyes screwed tightly shut. When she opened them, the man was still there, grinning at her. He wore a pointed hat, and a little waistcoat and vest over lighter green tights. On his feet were tiny shoes with curling tips, and he had long red hair and beard, groomed meticulously. He looked very old. "No, m'dear, you're not crazy. Sure and it's not like the old days, it's not. People today have no respect for the wee people, and you'd like to think they'd spotted a ghost when one of us pays 'em a visit, you would. Y'er a good Irish lass, Colleen. Have ya never heard of a leprechaun?" "Mrph wzuzzz yabbba," said Colleen. "Ah, well, lass, I see I caught yer by surprise, I did! Think now, have ya not heard of the wee ones?" Head swimming, the frazzled girl tried to collect her thoughts. She *had* heard stories from her Grandfather, legends about the fairies, sprites and leprechauns. As a girl, before she became convinced she was God's gift to the universe, she had adored her Grandfather, and sat by the hour listening to his sweetly musical brogue as he spun tale after tale of folklore to her delight. What HAD he said about the little gomers, anyway? Oh yes! If you catch one, a most difficult feat, and you hang on tight, the leprechaun is obliged to take you to his pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Suddenly her eyes glittered with pure avarice. Clearing her throat, she managed to get control over her shaking voice and said, "Ahem. Well, yes, now that you mention it, my Grandfather did tell me about leprechauns. He's from Ireland, you know." The little man chuckled. "Yes, indeed I know, my girl. 'Twas your Grandfather's ancestor, Paddy O'Reilly, who once did me and mine a very good turn. I promised him I'd be keepin an eye on his kinsmen in the times to come, and if one of them was really in need of my help, I'd repay my debt to him." A mental balance sheet immediately appeared in Colleen's head as she calculated the cost of an airline ticket to Dublin using her newly cleared credit card. Add a few bucks for meals, and she should get by nicely until she and the little weasel there could get the pot of gold. Then she turned her attention to seizing the little man while he was off guard. She was especially startled, therefore, when he said, "Ohhhhh, wipe that thought right outta yer mind, young lass!" "What thought?" she said, all wide-eyed puzzlement. "The thought of grabbin me," he replied calmly. "I know what you want, but you needn't expend all that effort. In fact, due to my long-standing affection for your ancestor, Paddy, I intend to see to it that you get just what you deserve without even leavin the comfort of your own bedroom," he assured her. "Oh! Why...why THANK you, sir!" exclaimed Colleen, barely able to contain her eagerness. "Um...what may I call you?" "Twixt is me name, young miss," he told her, hopping down on the bed and strutting toward her. "You may call me Mr. Twixt." "Well, great, Mr. Twixt. Say, can I get you something to eat?" "No, no, dearie, we've much to do. Come," he patted the bed next to him, "sit down. There's a lot we have to talk about." She came over and gingerly sat next to him, careful not to let her weight sink the bed too much lest he lose his balance. He sat cross- legged and regarded her gravely. "Your great-great Grandfather several times removed would be very distressed to see the state you're in, young Colleen," he said in a slightly scolding tone, bringing the crease of a frown to her pretty face. Colleen didn't take well to criticism. "I don't think I've ever seen a young girl so lacking in discipline as you are. Why, the very idea that you'd let your apartment go like this. Tsk, tsk!" Blushing, she avoided his eyes and tried to stutter out some excuse, fearful that if she told him where to stuff his little pointed hat, he'd cut her out of the pot of gold deal. "And that ice box! Phhhew! How long has it been since you cleaned that out? You're tardy, disrespectful, dishonest--running up bills you've no intention of paying--shame on you, lass! Whatever were your parents thinking to tell you grow up so?" Truth was, her parents had asked themselves the same questions again and again when they saw what their fond indulgence of their only beauty had wrought. But they felt the die had been cast and there was nothing they could do. "What you need is some good, old-fashioned Irish discipline, and I intend to see that you get it! Now, stand up and pull down those drawers, young lady!" "What??!!" shrieked the girl, anger overcoming her greed momentarily. "You dirty, perverted old, old....creature! I'll do no such thing!" Before she knew it, however, she was propelled to her feet by an unseen nudge, her skirt became airborne, and she felt her panties being tugged swiftly down her flanks to rest just below her knees. A low, appreciative whistle came from Twixt, who knew perfection when he spotted it. The girl had a tiny waist from which blossomed a rounded, slightly plump bottom, the cheeks of which were pale and perfect, smooth and beautifully shaped. Her legs were slender but sturdy, with taut thighs and muscled calves, ending in delicately slender ankles and small feet. Twixt barely contained a delighted jig in celebration of the loveliness exposed before him. The girl squealed and protested, but was unable to prevent herself from being bent forward over the bed, feet flat on the floor, thighs parted as far as the panties would permit, painfully aware of the chestnut feathered lips pouting lasciviously out while she was in this position. Her bottom was thus thrust upward provocatively, and she gasped in frightened amazement as the little man reached inside his green jacket pocket and pulled a huge leather paddle from within. Affecting a cricket batter's stance, and without further scolding, Twixt lifted the paddle and swung it with all his considerable might, landing a crashing blow on the girl's upturned cheek. She jumped, howling, trying desperately to free her arms to reach back and soothe away the fire that blossomed in her right ass cheek, but some unseen force prevented her from doing so. WHACK! Another stinging blow was delivered with gusto by the tiny man. She couldn't believe he'd been able to secret an implement so large in his little jacket, or that he could paddle her with such force. She began to beg and plead. "Noooo! Oh, please! Stop! You have no right to hit me so!" "No right? But you yourself were thinking that this was just what you wanted if I'm not mistaken!" he averred. "You were prepared to grab me to force me to do this, Miss Colleen!" Again and again he paddled her poor virgin bottom cheeks, bringing a blush as pink as a County Antrim rose to her fair nether cheeks. "Nooooo! I DIDN'T ask for this! I don't know OWWWWWWWWWEEEEE what you're YIIIIIKES! talking about! Pleeeeease! Don't spank me! I can't bear it!" "Bear it ye shall, missy, and bare it as well! This is but the first of many a long and hard spankings on your little white rump, it is! We have a LOT of work to do before ye'll be gettin yer wish, darlin." The spanking went on. He had a gift for his work, to be sure, and didn't miss a single spot on her poor paddled posterior. Between sobs and protests and pleadings for mercy, she tried to focus her sting-addled brain on his claim that she'd been seeking this. Surely he'd misunderstood her. After five mighty concluding whacks with the paddle, Twixt let up, quite out of breath. The unseen bonds were released, allowing Colleen to slump forward on the bed, her hands immediately flying back to rub her poor spanked cheeks vigorously. "Ow, ow! It stings so! Ohhhhh! My poor bottom! You're a beast!" she cried. "Now, now, my girl. You'll soon see that this spanking, and the ones to come are fully for your own good, in answer to your very own musings! We're going to map out a plan for you to change things in your life, starting this very night." "But I DIDN'T ask for a spanking!" she insisted, hiccupping and gasping as her sobs began to subside. "Ah, indeed ye did! Were ya not calculating just how you might grab hold of me in order to gain the prize?" Embarrassed, she nodded her head. "Yes, I was, but I wanted to catch you so you'd have to take me to the pot of gold at the end of your rainbow." Laughing gleefully, the little man rocked back on the bed, his legs in the air as he chortled and chuckled and guffawed. "Hey!" said Colleen, struggling to regain her composure, and possibly the upper hand. "What's so damn funny?" "You humans have NEVER gotten the legend straight. I don't know how many times we've told you the story, but you just don't seem to understand. It's not a pot o'GOLD at the end of the rainbow, lass, it's a pot o'GOAL we have waitin for ye. Tis always taken goals, and planning, and discipline to bring order and happiness to people's lives. When you'd get out of hand, tis the wee people who'd lead you back to sensibility. Didn't ya know that? Aye, it has been thus for centuries! And clearly the only way to help YOU attain your goals is by paddling some sense into that thick, spoiled, self-indulgent, pretty little head of yours, starting at the other end, of course!" Again he chuckled, enjoying his wit and her dismay. Producing a pad and pencil, he began to write. "First, we're going to set some housekeeping goals for you, lass. We can't have any more of this domestic chaos. So, we'll start with Monday: do the laundry, make your shopping list. Tuesday: do whatever ironing there is, scrub the floors...." As the litany went on and on, punctuated by an occasional light tap from the paddle, Colleen realized that her life was going to be vastly different from here on out. She had no idea how many spankings the leprechaun intended to give her, but she was seriously considering a life makeover to avoid finding out. Covering her face with her hands, she felt herself giving in to the thought of bringing some order to her life. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. He finished the week's chores and tore off the sheet with a flourish. "Here, now, dearie. We'll have another quick spankie and then we'll start on your responsibilities at the office!" As she lifted her face from her hands and looked up at him, she was startled by a shimmering light that filled her bedroom with a huge spectrum of the loveliest colors she'd ever seen. There, hanging over her bed, pulsing, alive, vibrant, breathtaking, was the end of the rainbow. MissLilyO@aol.com)