Page 155 of Santa Daddies
He grabs my wrists, pinning them together with one big hand, then wraps the rope around them in a loose loop. He pauses and asks, “How naughty have you been?”
This is my chance to back out.
My eyes drop to the potential binding, then up his furry arms, over his broad shoulders, across his monstrously attractive face, but it’s the horns that finally sink me.
“Go for it,” Starla says, reminding me of her behavior with her dad’s best friend.
It adds to the high of the festivities, encouraging me to be a willing participant. I open my mouth to answer, but it’s Jolene’s voice I hear calling, “She’s been very naughty… Take her away!”
Jolene wants this, not me. So why is my heart fluttering? Why do I nod when Krampus tightens his grip on my wrists? I can’t even think of one naughty thing I’ve done this year other than sneaking spinach into lasagna and lying to my parents about college.
A growly laugh comes from inside the costume. He steps closer, wraps the rope around my wrist several more times, then ties a very specific knot.
A boy scout? Not tonight.
His voice is much quieter, completely serious. “You’re mine now. I take that responsibility seriously.”
Um… yes? I nod.
A tug of the rope has me stumbling forward, becoming part of the parade. I glance back. Jolene waves then puts her focus on the next Krampus.
Thank god she's happy for me. I didn't want this, and yet, as with so often when I follow Jolene’s lead, I do.
The parade vehicle in front of us stops, causing us to do the same. I’m at the rope’s length–a few feet–behind my captor.
“Anyone know what happens to naughty girls?” my Krampus bellows to the crowd.
They do. And they demand that Krampus spank me.
Hand over hand, he draws the rope in, forcing my weak legs forward. New levels of weirdness unlock in my brain as my sexy bits tingle. What’s wrong with me? This is a family affair.
A sharp downward tug on my restraints forces me to bend over. My coat is long enough to cover my butt.
Then it’s not. Krampus gathers the fabric onto my back, leaving my leggings the only respectable barrier over my butt.
My rapid breaths are shamelessly visible. Any clarity between playing along and unlocking a spanking kink is as melted as Frosty on a hot summer day.
The impact of Krampus’ palm on my right butt cheek sends my body into a full shiver. My eyes clamp shut. And my foot flies forward, barely stopping my legs from giving out. I have to force a breath.
Krampus tugs the rope, nestling my face into his furry chest and wraps his other arm around my back.
The beast has chosen me, and I’m all in.
The rest of the parade is a blur. I try to watch what the other Krampuses do with their naughty victims, but I’m wound too tight to focus.
“Can you stay a little longer?” my Krampus asks.
It takes me a second to realize that we’ve reached the end of the parade.
“I want to take you on stage for the vote.”
I’m pretty sure I’ll go anywhere with this beast but only manage a nod. Waiting for the rest of the parade to finish, he stages me for photos, reminding the picture takers to post the photos to social media and tag the event.
That gives me plenty of time to wonder when I started enjoying being bent over and spanked in public… or anywhere?
Since when does Krampus punish naughty girls by having them kneel in front of him? Perhaps he got tired of doing the same pose?
Since when do I wish I wasn’t signed up for the Christmas Cherry Auction because I want to be… No! I don’t want to befucked by a beast… not really. Or maybe. What does he look like without the costume?
