Page 77 of Santa Daddies
I pull him onto my lap, holding him close as he soaks my shirt. These tears feel like a cleansing of sorts. Like my boy is purging something and coming out new. At least, I hope it’s that type of cry.
“It’s ok, cookie. Daddy has you. Let it all out. I’m all yours. I’ll hold you as long as you need.” I rock him as I whisper the promises against the top of his head. The words aren’t meant to quiet the tears. They’re more so about reassuring him.
When he calms some time later, I’m rewarded with a bright smile. “Thank you, Daddy. I… I feel better now.”
I wipe away the last of his tears. “Good.”
“You’re not mad I started crying at your gift?”
“No, baby. Of course not.” I pause, letting him see the sincerity in my expression. “Just like sad or bad things can overwhelm us, so can good things. You told me you loved the gift. If you needed a minute to let out your feelings after, there’s no reason for me to be upset. If anything, I’m thankful to have given you the opportunity to feel.”
He sighs, sinking back against my chest. “You’re the best, Daddy. I’m so glad Santa granted my wish, and you found me.”
“Me too, cookie.”
It’s amazing how one little letter can change everything.
Epilogue
One Year Later
Jared
“You’re going to count out your punishment, or I’ll call Grant myself to explain why we can’t make it to the party, cookie.” Daddy growls as he squeezes my bottom. “Now are you going to behave or should I call our friends?”
I whimper, shaking my head side to side.
This was definitelynotpart of my plan for today. We’re supposed to be in the car driving to a small party at my bestie’s house. Grant and his brother Webster are both Daddies, which means we can all be as carefree as we want when together. Donny suggested a shared holiday brunch, and I couldn’t agree fast enough.
Now we’re going to be late because I threw a fit about not having any more bows for their gifts. I know it’s a silly thing to get upset over. I would let it go any other time.
But it’s Christmas.
And I want everything to be perfect.
Ok, and maybe I need some grounding. Daddy and I started maintenance spankings a few months into our relationship.Normally, one a week is all I need to feel balanced and ready to take on the week.
With the holiday season in bloom, one per week doesn’t feel enough. My skin itches, and my heart races the more I think about trying to get through the next few days without his care. And while I could have probably asked him for it, I didn’t realize it was what I needed until he had my pants pulled down and my body draped over his lap.
“Daddy, please,” I whine when he doesn’t begin.
His hand freezes. “Oh, baby. You needed a spanking bad, didn’t you?”
I’m not sure what I did to give myself away. Lying would be silly since this man knows me better than anyone.
“Yes, Daddy. Please… please make it better.”
He hums, his palm gripping my skin tight for a moment before releasing me. “You’re still going to count or else we’ll have to do spanking, plug, and no coming until after bath tonight. Understand?”
“I understand,” I reply. The plug is one thing, I can manage well enough, but not coming until after my bath is a nightmare. It would be torture in its worst form.
“Good boy.”
Daddy’s hand pulls away, then there’s a moment of calm before the first crack lands against my skin. The burn is instant. It spreads across my skin, licking up my spine.
More.
Please, give me more.
