Claus Mannheim sat on the wet grass of the cemetery and sighed dejectedly at the stone statue of an angel. Claus didn’t care that the cold dew had soaked through her black slacks and black panties making her bottom thoroughly wet. She didn’t care that her bare arms were covered with goose pimples or that her black halter-top was barley thick enough to be see-through let alone protect her from the chill that was an autumn morning. If not for the completely opaque black bra underneath it, she’d have been indecently dressed.

Not that she cared.

The absolute blackness of Claus’ clothes was offset nicely by the grey of the gravestones that surrounded her. Some might have considered it odd that a girl of fifteen would spend her Sunday mornings in such a place. Especially without a coat considering the chill, but they might have understood if they knew that she spent many of her morning there. Sitting before the angle who stood upon a pedestal with her arms relaxed at her sides, her wings unfurled, her face a mask of understanding serenity, sighing dejectedly and telling the winged woman clad in less clothing than Claus about how miserable her life was.

Claus ran a hand through her short, dyed black hair and then played with her shiny, new eyebrow ring.

"Mom hates it," she told the angel. "She says that I should have asked permission first. Wants to know how I paid for it. I told her it was none of her business. Told her to piss off." She gave a small chuckle. "She didn’t like that very much either but she’s been a real bitch lately so I don’t give a damn."

She fingered the eyebrow ring again.

"It still hurts a little but that’s okay. I like the pain." She looked up at the winged woman. "It’s not like I want to hurt myself but I definitely like the pain."

With another sigh, Claus looked at her watch. "I guess it’s time for school," she told the angel. "I’ve got a damn test today. I didn’t study but I’ll probably get a C anyway." She stood and lit a cigarette. Her black lipstick stained the white filter. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the hot smoke as it billowed about in her chest.

"Well, see ya tomorrow."

The smoke curled from her lips and obscured her face making her look mysterious with her black eyeliner and black eye shadow. She slipped on her black leather jacket and sauntered out of the graveyard, still not caring about her dew soaked pants.

~*~

The next morning Claus came back to the graveyard. Before entering through the wrought iron gates she dropped her half smoked cigarette to the sidewalk and stomped it out. Today she was dress in a black mini skirt which would have broken school rules by itself, but she was also wearing stockings of black and white horizontal stripes that covered her to the bum where she wore a pair of black shorts. A simple black t-shirt rounded out the ensemble.

"Morning," she greeted the angel. The angel simply looked down from her perch with her small smile and waited.

"I really don’t think it’s fair, ya know?" she started. "I mean I got a B on that damn test, but it’s just not good enough for that bitch."

Claus sniffled and held back a sob.

"She just wants to complain about my clothes and my hair and my damned eyebrow ring." Claus hugged herself and paced back and forth. "Why the hell can’t she just leave me alone?" she demanded of stone. "Why does she always have to know where I’m going and who I’m going to be with? It’s like I’m a damned criminal or some thing."

Claus continued to fume for a while longer. Her breath turned to mist on the morning air. Several times she started to say more but then stopped and continued her pacing. She took a deep breath, the shuddering in her chest settled and the tears welling in her eyes subsided.

"Mom says I’ve been acting like a little girl. She says I’ve been whining. Well to hell with her, right?" The angel remained silent.

"Anyway… Life just sucks. I hate school, I hate my family, and I hate the world." She sniffled again before taking out another cigarette. "You’re the only one I can talk to." She lit the stick and breathed deeply through it.

"I never did anything to anybody… why can’t they just leave me alone?"

For nearly ten minutes, Claus just stood there, smoking her cigarette and shivering in the cold. When she finished, she put it out on the base of the angel’s pedestal. She checked her watch, there were ten minutes before school would start.

"Oh well, couldn’t be any worse."

That same night, Claus returned.

The sky was clear, points of glittering light shined down upon the earth but none was as majestic on that clear, cold evening as the moon. Sitting fat and yellow on the horizon, the full moon lighted the way from Claus’ house to the graveyard allowing her the brisk pace without stumbling.

She had changed from her mini skirt to a pair of tight black jeans. Much as she liked to ignore the cold, bare legs on an autumn night was just pushing it. A black tee-shirt under a heavy black leather jacket kept her relatively warm as did the black Pendleton fedora which covered her short black hair. She could see her breath on the air as she hurried away from the argument to the serenity of the graveyard.

At the gates, Claus paused to look at the moon. Her breathing calmed to a normal rate, as did her heart. Her anger, however, had not receded. She considered lighting up, but decided against it. Looking ahead, she found her silent friend, standing where she always was. The moon bathed her in a soft light that made the stone angle appear to be glowing.

Claus glanced at her watch. 11:55. Slowly, the black clad girl walked into the graveyard and towards the angel. Without preamble, she began.

"So mom and I just had another fight. I’m not entirely sure what about, but I guess she doesn’t like my attitude. She certainly said so enough. Well that’s just fine, cause I don’t like hers either." Claus paused to bed down and pick up the cigarette butt she had dropped there that morning.

"Why is it that she always wants to know where I’m going? Why does she have to stick her nose into my business all the time?" Claus turned away from her silent friend and stared at the moon again. It had lifted up off the horizon and was slowly becoming more white, and less yellow. She glanced at her watch again. 12:00

"Because she loves you."

Claus gave an undignified screech as she spun around and backed away at the same time. The statue of the angel really was glowing now. Except that it was no longer a statue. Staring out of brilliant golden eyes, the alabaster skinned woman with the large, white, feathery wings and the minimal, diaphanous gown, stretched her arms above her head and smiled at Claus. Then she sat down upon her pedestal. That see through garment was wearing probably did little to protect her from the cold of the stone. The angle kicked her feet playfully and folded her wigs against her back.

"Aren’t you going to say hello?" the angel asked. "You usually say ‘hello’ first."

Claus opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

The angel sighed. "That’s okay. I don’t really mind." She kept smiling though, a simple, warm smile. "I’ve become a bit vexed with you lately, you know that?"

Claus shook her head mutely and, despite herself, drew closer to the glowing celestial being. The artist who had crafted her had been generous to the female figure and though the angel was hairless but for the golden mane atop her head, her sex was obvious. Claus couldn’t help but stare.

"Well, I am," the angel went on. "When you were little, you came to me when you need to cry. Or sometimes just because. Now you only come to me when you want to whine. Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you, but I think you’re being too hard on your mother."

That jolted Claus out of her astonishment. "You’re siding with my mother?" the black clad girl demanded.

The angel shook her head. "No. I know that she hasn’t disciplined you since you were twelve. You think that she doesn’t care. But I do think that your mother is doing the best she can."

Claus dropped her earlier cigarette butt to the ground and lit up another. "Whatever," she mumbled.

The angle frowned at the butt. "Pick that up, please."

Claus raised an eyebrow, the one with the shiny silvery ring through it, then looked down. "Oh. Sorry." She picked up the remnants of the stick and put it in her pocket.

"Thank you," replied the angel. "Though it would be better if you didn’t smoke at all."

Claus frowned at the luminescent being. "Did you manifest just to give me a lecture?"

"Of course not. I manifested to give you a spanking."

Claus choked on the smoke and the cigarette dropped from her lips. Her eyes were wide and staring at her usually silent friend. If a stone statue coming to life as a real life angel hadn’t been proof enough of her hallucination, this last sentence certainly had.

The angel giggled. "Caught you by surprise there, huh?"

Claus took her attention from the angel long enough to stamp out the still smoldering cigarette. "What did you say?" she ask, still looking at the ground. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and huddled in on herself a bit before meeting the angel’s golden eyes again.

"Claus, you’ve been nothing but whiney lately. What’s more, you’ve been disrespectful of both your mother and me. You know you’ve been naughty."

The goth girl felt a tightening in her chest. The compassionate, smiling face, the same face she had talked to all these years, had really uttered those words.

"I haven’t," she protested weakly. But she made no move to back away as the angel, still seated on her stone pedestal, reached out and grabbed her arm, just above the elbow. Then Claus was pulled over the angel’s strong knees like she was nothing more than a day old kitten. First the angel flipped Claus onto her back and undid the buttons and zipper of jeans. Claus looked into those warm golden eyes once more before she was flipped back onto her tummy.

"You must know, Claus," said the angel, "That I do not enjoy this." She pulled Claus’ jeans down, exposing the black panties with purple trim. "But I’m afraid that you’ve need this for some time now." The panties joined the jeans at the hollows of her knees, removing all protection from the elements to Claus’ posterior. She shivered from the cold and could feel her skin tightening into goose bumps all over her body.

Except for her tummy. The angel’s thighs were quite warm and wherever she was touched by the celestial being, she was not cold. Claus took some small comfort in that. She suddenly felt like a small child again, held protectively in her mother’s arms.

When the angel’s first spank landed, Claus immediately noticed the pain. It struck her from head to toe, jarred her petulant reality, quickened her heart rate and forced her black fedora off her head. Not to mention, tears to her eyes. The comfort and serenity Claus had felt in the presence of this angle was replaced by her usual ‘who gives a damn’ attitude.

"Let me go!" she screamed into the night as her bared bottom was spanked again. The rage she felt at her school, her mother, the world, even at her self, all became focused on the celestial being who held her easily. "You bitch!" Claus cried as she yelled "I hate you!" Tears began to run down her face leaving black trails of makeup in their wake. But the angel didn’t relent.

Silent and firm, the winged woman slapped Claus’ pert bottom, making sure to cover the rounded surface from crease of thigh to just below the back. Sharp and burning, but not so heavy as to be horrible. Soon, Claus’ bottom was a bright red. Against the rest of her pale skin and dark clothing, her bum stood out like a blazing beacon. Her screams and protests dissolved in to wet sobbing. Her face was a mess of tears and black make up.

Time and space blurred. Claus was no longer certain where she was or why she hurt. She did know, however, that the pain she felt now was wholly different than that which she had felt before. There was a lightness, a peace, that she hadn’t even realized was gone.

~*~

Claus entered the graveyard with a bit of hesitancy the next morning. On this day she was clad in a loose black dress and had foregone the makeup. Slowly she walked up to the angel. She stood there, as she always had, with her arms relaxed at her sides, her wings unfurled, her face a mask of understanding serenity.

Gently Claus ran a hand over her still sore bottom to remind herself that last night had not been a dream. The choice of dress, a garment unusual for Claus, had been to keep any undue pressure off her bum. Claus winced and smiled at the same time when her caress brought both an ache and a tickle to her bottom. She noticed that her black Pendleton fedora was on the dew soaked grass. Mindless of the water, she snatched up the hat and placed it upon her head. A discarded cigarette but lay in the grass also, and she picked it up as well and put it in her pocket to discard later.

Then Claus stepped up on the angel’s pedestal and looked into those blank, stone eyes. A moment longer did she remained balanced there, time enough to plant a quick kiss on a stone cheek.

– The End –

Copyright © 2005 Lawrence Kinden. All rights reserved. Reposted with permission.
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