Page 147 of Santa Daddies
The only relief would come in absolution when the spanking was over and my sins were forgiven, and I was, hopefully, off the naughty list. I didn’t know what I’d do if this didn’t work like it had before. I couldn’t imagine it. The alternative was too terrible to fathom. So I took every stinging lash of the leather, let my ass rise up to meet it, tried to stay stoic, tried my hardest to relish the pain, and let it soothe my tortured soul.
Yule didn’t lecture, so there were no words to focus on, nothing but the pain to hold my attention. And it did. It had a stronghold on me. Every wave of it rolled over me, bringing my naughties and all the ways I’d messed up to the forefront of my brain.
When I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, when I was actually crying so hard that breathing became difficult, Yule paused the onslaught, rubbing his hands over my scorched cheeks.
And as nice as it felt, as much as a relief as it was, I knew I wasn’t done. Couldn’t be done. Hadn’t yet felt that soul-freeing relief.
“You’re doing so good baby,” Yule whispered in my ear. “Just a few more. Can you do it for me?”
When he signaled that it was, indeed, almost finished, the angst that had been choking my soul seemed to fade, just a little. Did I feel like that was enough? I didn’t, but I trusted my Daddy to know what was best. I hoped he did anyway.
“I can, Daddy,” I squeaked. “Just a few more? Are you sure?”
“Very sure, baby. Your bottom nearly matches my Santa suit. We’ve done our very best to get your name off the list. How are you feeling?”
His kindness and encouragement was helping. I sniffled and wiped my eyes with the comforter. “Okay, Daddy. Ready for it to be over.”
“Me too,” Yule whispered, right before getting back into position.
“Get ready,” he warned. I braced myself, squinting my eyes to keep tears from falling, focused on the rise and fall of my chest as I inhaled deep centering breaths.
And the first lash fell, so hard I couldn’t help but jump from position, but I knew better, and I wanted this to be over soon, so I quickly got back into place without having to be told.
“Good girl,” my Santa Daddy praised.
I didn’t feel like a good girl.
And yet, as the belt landed four more times in quick succession before falling to the floor, I knew I was forgiven.
My bottom throbbed and ached, but the tension in my shoulders relaxed. The knot in my stomach diminished. The elephant that had been sitting on my chest became a butterfly.
And Daddy’s arms wrapped around my middle to scoop me into his arms.
Chapter Nine
Yule
After her tears subsided, and my chest dried from being soaked with them, I rolled out from under her, and swung my legs over the side of the bed, ready to get dressed. An idea had formed while I was giving aftercare, and I couldn’t let it go. I needed to implement it, but more than that, I needed to go into the office and make sure my errant little was, indeed, off the naughty list.
She propped herself up on one elbow, and looked over at me, her lips pouty, her face full of sorrow. “Where are you going?” she asked as I reached for my boots.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I replied. “We are going to check out the list and make sure our efforts were successful.”
She pouted some more. “Do we really need to do that right now? Couldn’t it wait?”
I frowned. “Sadly, it can’t. There’s really no time to spare. If it didn’t work, we need to know right away, so we can regroup and adjust the plan. Maybe even seek counsel from my parents if we need to.”
“Ugh. I do not want to have to do that.” But even as she spoke, she got up and started to dress, wincing as she pulled thick tights over her red, swollen bottom.
“Me either, but we might not have a choice. Let’s just go in, together, and take a peek.” I didn’t tell her there was another reason for wanting to take her to the list room with me.
“Fine.” She pulled a red velvet dress over her head from the dozen or so we kept in our closet, selected a candy-cane-striped apron, and tied it around her waist, and slipped on a pair of boots that were smaller and more feminine than mine.
I finished dressing too, then held out my hand. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her nerves were clear in the tightness of her shoulders and the worry lines etched in her forced smile.
“Whatever the outcome is, we’ll handle it together,” I promised.
But we both knew the outcome could be very bad and we could be at the mouth of a storm we had no idea how to weather.
