“You will remember these lashes for the rest of your existence, sweetling. You may be ignorant now, but the name Krampus is not one you’ll soon forget.”
Aubrey yelped when she was lifted, the creature’s strong arms handling her as if she were no more than a doll, clearing her kitchen table in one swipe, her laptop going crashing to the ground along with a mountain of paperwork, Jacob’s most recent science club project, and the remnants of her meager breakfast. Dropping her face down on the newly cleared center, the monster gripped her hips, dragging her up to her knees.
“Last chance to change your mind, little one. If we proceed, there will be no turning back.”
“You’d actually let me stop?” she asked in disbelief, flushing when the beast laughed again. She had no intention of stopping, but that it was even an option was surprising.
“Of course not, but I do like to create the illusion of hope . . . did it work?”
The hem of her nightgown had only a short distance to travel as it was lifted, and she squeezed her eyes shut as the monster chuckled at the sight of her bare ass. “You’ve made this so easy, I really ought to be thanking you. Such efficiency for our task . . .”
She wasn’t twenty anymore, a fact she was reminded of every time she looked in the mirror and was reminded once more as its hand palmed an ample cheek; a little fuller, with a bit more jiggle than it had only ten years earlier, kneading her skin before giving it a hard slap. Producing a hand-tie of branches from its basket, the monster leered down. The first crack of the branches against her skin was sharp and she jolted, a second quickly following.Krampus. Aubrey thought she’d heard of this beast, hazy memories of foreign folklore and cheesy pop culture that paled in comparison to the bite against her skin, not dissimilar to the bite of the flogger to which she was more accustomed.
She’d fallen into the scene shortly after university. An older boyfriend, one who liked to spank her and be calledDaddy, who took her to clubs and fetish balls to show her off. It had been the start and that relationship short-lived, but Aubrey had discovered she quite liked the sting of a flogger on her bare skin, had learned that the climaxes after a good paddling were always stronger and more satisfying. When she was at the club she didn’t need to worry about being a good enough mother or the things her family said; didn’t need to carry the stress of work home and lay in bed thinking about projects and meetings and trips.
There were many reasons why people joined the scene — for her it was the release. The release from obligation and expectation, the freedom that came with absolute submission and the pleasure the lack of needing to care about every little thing under the sun allowed her to feel. She would make the appropriate noises for this Krampus, if that’s what he needed to hear, if that’s what would save her son . . . and then she’d relieve herself with her vibrator once it had left.
Aubrey closed her eyes, and imagined herself far away, kneeling on a padded bench and not her kitchen table, surrounded by a circle of horny onlookers and not the makings of her Christmas cookies. She wasn’t in her kitchen being whipped by some nightmare creature, she was in a club being spanked in front of masturbating strangers, free of responsibility, free to focus on her body and the sensations she felt, free to feel unfettered pleasure through the superficial pain.
The branches whipped her ass relentlessly, occasionally landing at her fleshy thighs, and she yelped every time they did so, feeling her arousal grow. She’d been spanked this hard once before, by a stranger in a leather harness who’d made her suck his cock as he reddened her ass, and when he’d fucked her against the leather bench after letting the flogger drop, she’d come so hard she’d nearly passed out. Heat bloomed between her legs with every crack against her tender flesh, and she wondered if the Krampus be able to smell her arousal as she slickened. She tried to imagine the monster moving to stand before her, forcing his cock down her throat as he whipped her, if he evenhada cock.I wonder what it looks like. Human or goat? He’s strong . . . he’d be a good addition to the community, too bad he’s probably just a hallucination and you’re dreaming this whole thing.
“I think you’re ready for the strap, don’t you agree, sweetling?”
It was meant to be a further punishment, she immediately understood. The club she visited out of town had a similar progression of devices: floggers to straps, paddles to canes. She disliked the sharp sting of the cane and the welts it raised on her skin, but the belt . . . the belt was her favorite. If being spanked with a belt was the worst punishment she’d endure from the beast, Aubrey considered she ought to be grateful she wasn’t paying for it.Not that he needs to know that. It’s fine, just pretend that you hate it.Maybe you can cry.She’d not need to let the monster know she enjoyed its punishment, she resolved.
“It’s strange,” he rumbled, producing the strap from the basket — a well-worn leather, cracked and pliable — “I expected more screams, sweetling. Begging, crying. It’s almost as if you’reusedto this.”
She whimpered when the Krampus gripped her ankles, forcing her knees together, her so-called resolve crumbling like sand. She knew from experience that the lips of her sex would be on prominent display in such a position, that the strap might catch her on her most sensitive anatomy. Surely if the beast could not smell her arousal, he’d be able to see it glistening on her lips, her cunt betraying her with its neediness.
“I-I didn’t want to . . . to upset you! I thought screaming might make you mad and I — oh,pleasedon’t hurt me with that belt!” It was a compelling performance, she thought.
The first strike of the strap made her hiss, a sharpslap!across the back of thighs. The second strike landed soundly across her ass and Aubrey yelped, thinking again that the beast would be an excellent addition to the scene. The third strike slapped her pussy, the jolt of pleasure making her cry out again, and she could only hope it sounded convincing. Thighs, ass, pussy; thighs, ass, pussy; pussy, pussy, pussy . . . she keened, dropping to her elbows and sticking her ass out, desperate for the relentless slapping to find her throbbing clit, unable to keep up the facade any longer, and the creature laughed, long and terrible. When he raised a hand to her cleft, Aubrey knew he would find her sopping.
“I wonder how much of a punishment it is when your cunt is dripping, sweetling.”
The fingers pushed into her were rough and she cried out again, more worried about the claws slicing her open than she had been about her tender ass, but they seemed absent as he coated his hand in her slick.Retractable? Is that what his dick does as well?
She expected anger at the discovery, perhaps another slap. Instead, thick fingers rubbed circles against her, finding her clit and trapping it between his knuckles, pinching it until she cried out again, quivering in pleasure.Well, this isnotwhat you expected!
“I wonder, if I were to hit you there again, would you be learning any sort of lesson?”
Aubrey keened as her ankles were pushed apart and her face held to the table. When the leather struck her wide-open lips again, she cried out; when it slapped against her clit, she saw stars.
“We’ll have to find a way to make this less enjoyable, little one. I wouldn’t want you to feel like your sacrifice somehow came up short.”
The peppermint sticks had been purchased on a whim, thinking she’d use them as stocking stuffers for her son and niece. They were squat and fat, the size and circumference of cigars, and she knew exactly what the creature planned as the cellophane wrapper was shredded. The red and green confection was pressed to her mouth, her hair tugged until her lips fell open, allowing him to push the peppermint stick into her mouth, moving it over her tongue until it was sufficiently wet, pulling it from her lips and pressing it to her clit in one fast movement. It was a pleasant tingle, and if she wasn’t already wet from the spanking he’d administered, the rub of the peppermint against her would have had her juices flowing . . . which was a problem, Aubrey realized immediately.
This too was a sensation with which she was well-versed. Creams and oils designed for such delights, sensations she grew accustomed to until she’d been forced to up the ante . . . balms and ointments for sore muscles had the highest concentrations of menthol, and the icy burn they caused could make her climax with the barest hint of pressure on her clit. The peppermint stick was, in comparison, child’s play. She whimpered, hoping it was convincing.
When the candy cane breached her, Aubrey said a prayer for her vaginal flora and bit her lip. Being fucked with a candy cane was not something she thought she’d be able to boast about when she began her baking that morning, but wonders never ceased.
“Please,” she begged, “please no more, this is terrible. I can’t take anymore!”
It wasn’t a lie, for while the peppermint stick was girthier than a typical candy cane, it was nothing like a cock, nothing she could clench around. She was desperate to be filled, and wondered again about what the beast might be packing, trying to get a look at his crotch without him catching her. They were hard to distinguish in the coarse black fur that covered his lower half, but between his goat legs hung fat, fur-covered testicles and a short sheath. The Krampus made a noise then, a small grunt, whether it was in amusement at her lie or in frustration she couldn’t tell. It wouldn’t do to test his patience with her obvious enjoyment, and she quickly lowered her eyes. When his hand gripped her chin, forcing her to raise her gaze to him, the garnet eyes that glowered down had narrowed to slits.
“Sweetling, I can’t help but feel as if you’retryingto challenge me. If so, I have to warn you now — my creativity knows no limits, I assure you. I wonder if you’ll still be mewling in a moment . . .”
Aubrey followed his garnet gaze to the hand of unpeeled ginger on the counter, and a shudder moved through her as the beast smiled wickedly. Her stomach flipped in anticipation as his hand placed the peppermint stick aside, palming the ginger. It would be fine, she tried to convince herself as a ripple of genuine fear moved through her.Oh yeah, fine. It’s a freaking medieval torture method, sure it’s fine.…But then again, medieval peasants didn’t have pots of tiger balm in their bedside table, she reminded herself, bowing her head in what she hoped was passable fear. It was a burn she knew well, but she didn’t need to let him know that.Best to let him think this is a punishment and not a typical Saturday.
