Page 1 of Santa's Little Helpers

I furiously scribbled notes in my planner as Master Derek spouted off ideas about the Rawhide Ranch Christmas Party. His exuberance about the holiday was infectious, and I found myself bouncing on the balls of my feet just thinking about the festivities to come. Growing up, Christmas had been full of family, food, and fun, but that was before I was kicked out and shunned completely. At sixteen, my parents found out about my interest in spanking, and they decided I was not fit to be their daughter. They were afraid their holier-than-thou friends would find out their “perfect daughter” was some sort of deviant. I had been so surprised by their reaction I’d walked out the door and never looked back.

“And we need to find a Santa Claus,” Derek announced with finality.

“Got it, Sir.”

“Good girl. That’s all for now. Can you start working on those things this morning?”

“Yeah, totally.”

Derek’s eyebrow quirked, and I quickly realized my mistake. “I meant, yes, Sir.”

“I’m sure you did. Fetch the crop please, naughty girl.”

I dropped my chin to my chest and let my hands fall to my sides. Dammit, why is this so hard for you? In the office he is Sir. Sir. Sir. Sir. I berated myself all the way to the implement closet and back again with the evil little torture device. Master Derek always asked for the crop if it was going to be a short, sharp lesson. Since it was the third time I had forgotten his title that morning alone, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I ended up finishing out the workday standing.

He stood and made a show of unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves. “Position, please.” He was not asking, he was commanding, but his sweet Southern charm would not permit him to be impolite. He really was the most perfect man; his wife Sadie was a lucky girl.

I laid my chest flat against the desk with my forehead pressed to the polished wood, my arms fully extended in front of me, palms down, and my feet flat on the ground shoulder-width apart. The position was uncomfortable enough, and knowing Master Derek would leave me there for as long as he saw fit was unnerving. Luckily, he did not seem to be in an overly sadistic mood as I felt my skirt being lifted over my waist. He did not plan to make me wait long today. I shivered as cool air hit my bare ass and brushed across my moist folds. Being punished always caused my pussy to flood. I did not like letting Master Derek down, and I certainly did not enjoy the initial sting of the crop, but none of that kept my body from reacting strongly.

Without warning, the crop sliced hard against my sit spots. I jumped slightly but succeeded in keeping my position, which was a small miracle. Master Derek was a strict man, and breaking position during punishment was not acceptable. I took in a deep breath, letting it out as the crop struck three times in succession. My body tensed, and my knees bent slightly, but I was able to stay put.

“Why are you being disciplined, Erika?”

“Because I failed to remember to use your title, and you are training me to be a well-mannered submissive, Sir.”

“Indeed. How many times have you forgotten my title this morning?”

“Three, Sir.”

Again the crop fell three times, but this time the leather slapper concentrated on the underside of each butt cheek. I wished, not for the first time, that his aim was a little less precise. He struck the same spot over and over, guaranteeing a lasting impression. The pattern of the three count continued. Sit spots, left cheek, right cheek, over and over again. I balled my hands into fists and was chastised with a swat across my thighs.

“Ow! I’m sorry, Sir,” I cried for the first time since he started. It was impossible to keep completely still, and I swayed my bottom back and forth, desperate to alleviate some of the sting.

Master Derek set the crop on the desk and lowered my skirt. I waited for him to release me, not wanting to earn any more stripes.

“You may take the crop back to the closet,” he directed as he returned to his desk chair.

I did as I was told and turned to wait for more instructions.

“Come here, my girl.” His voice went from the harsh coldness of a disciplinarian, to the warm kind tone I had come to adore. I moved to the spot in front of him and knelt.

“I’m sorry for my behavior, Sir. Thank you for correcting me.”

“You’re welcome, little lady. Now come up here.” He opened his arms, and I crawled into his lap for the mandatory cuddle. When I first arrived, I’d had a hard time accepting his warmth, but now it was my favorite part of the scene. Punishment did not happen without aftercare; he was adamant about that.

The door to the office flew open, and Sadie, Derek’s wife, stomped in, making a grand entrance, as was her way. Her pigtails swung, and the pout on her face screamed trouble. I turned my face into Master Derek’s chest to hide my smile. She was too adorable for words.

“Daddy, we need to talk,” Sadie announced with a stomp.

“Did you forget how polite little girls are supposed to enter a room?” Derek’s voice rumbled in response, but I could hear the smile in the words. He loved his wife and all of her girlish sass. She kept him on his toes.

“I’m mad,” she pouted, throwing her arms across her chest.

“I can see that, but even when angry, you need to remember your manners. Please go out into the hall and try again.”

She sighed heavily and turned to leave, closing the door firmly behind her as she exited.

“What am I going to do with her?” Derek asked with a chuckle. It was a rhetorical question, but I answered anyway.

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