Yes, Please, Santa Daddy

Ho, ho, ho! Have you been a good little girl this year?

The stern voice came from above her bed as she lay nestled in among stuffies, naked under the blankets. Her eyes popped open.

Santa? Her voice sleepily questioned her eyes. I must be dreaming, she thought.

You’re not dreaming, little one, came the stern voice of Santa again, and I believe I asked you a question, young lady.

She sat up sleepily, rubbing her eyes while avoiding Santa’s gaze. She pulled the covers up to absently cover part of her pert breasts as she nibbled her lower lip.

Well, you see, Santa, she began, I’m quite certain I’ve been awfully nice this year…

Her voice trailed off as she saw the firm expression harden.

Santa’s gloved hand reached toward her and stroked her cheek. You know lying is quite naughty, don’t you?

He said not another word, but moved that hand to her hair, quick as a whip. Closing his hand to a fist he slowly pulled her head back, one rosy cheek alongside hers.

He sat upon her bed and used her hair to draw her over his knee. She could have resisted, but something deep within her resonated to the absolute rightness of this moment.

His gloved hand descended onto her bare bottom, warming it with his strokes. Alternating cheeks, she could feel all of weight of being so very naughty draining from her body. She began to eagerly meet the slaps of his hand with her bottom, and she closed her mouth around the moan, not wanting Santa to know the effect his punishment was having on her.

She could feel the warmth of his breath from his beautifully red, bowlike mouth as he whispered in her ear, I already know.