Santa’s Gift (Story) Part two

If you haven’t read part one you should, or this won’t make much sense.
Santa’s Gift Part One 

Santa’s Gift –Part two

She looked down at her feet, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Maybe she had been a bit brattier than usual. There was some jealousy over feeling like she was missing out on something special, but it wasn’t just about the gifts. They were great; she’d loved every Santa present she’d ever gotten, and the money was always nice too, but it wasn’t like she didn’t get plenty of other gifts anyway. It was more that she hadn’t been ready to let go of the miracle of Christmas and be a grown up yet.

When she’d gotten her license there had been an almost physical pain, knowing that she was giving up something precious. But each year there’d been some special coming of age thing to make up for it. Driving at sixteen, graduating at seventeen, voting at eighteen, then starting college at nineteen and all the freedoms that came with that, and she’d been distracted for a while.

It had been years since she’d been young enough to get a visit from Santa, so she didn’t know why it was affecting her so strongly this year. Maybe it was because she was close to graduation and then she’d finally, really, be a complete adult. While her parents were paying for her education, she still felt like she was responsible to them and so did they. They kept track of her grades and lectured her on missing classes, so going to college had felt like just an extension of her teenage years, but that would all change soon.

She’d found herself regressing in certain ways lately. As the stress increased, so did the knowledge that she still didn’t really know what she wanted to do with her life after school. It was overwhelming and she found herself spending more time snuggled up in comfy jammies rereading books from her childhood, instead of studying.

As Christmas neared, she’d wanted to at least pretend to believe that a magical man, who always knew exactly what she needed most, was going to come down the chimney. The real world, the grown-up world, tended to be empty of that kind of mystery. Emotionally, she just wasn’t ready. She wanted to be a kid again.

“I’m sorry, Santa,” she whispered, without looking up. It surprised her to realize she actually was sorry. There was something about that look of disappointment on his face that made her feel guiltier than a little snippy behavior on Christmas Eve should have. She didn’t want to explain why she’d been feeling sulky though, because that would make her feel even more childish.

He made a disappointed tsking sound. “Well, I’m on a tight schedule so we’d better get to your punishment, even Christmas magic can only pause time for so long,” he said as he sat down in the nearest chair and patted his knee. “Come on, Amanda. No dawdling,” he said.

Her eyes widened, and her head snapped up. “What?” she asked in disbelief. She stared, shocked. “W-what punishment?”

“Come now, you know the rules. It’s right in the songs. No pouting, no whining, no crying or else,” he explained patiently. “Now, I want you over my knee without any more stalling.”

“But Santa doesn’t spank people!” she insisted. She didn’t move, not one inch closer. It had to be some sort of crazy dream. Odd how seeing Santa had seemed normal enough, and it was only the idea of him spanking her that made her think it was unreal.

“Well, not all people certainly. I don’t have the time for that. But occasionally there’s someone who needs a bit of personal attention to sort them out, and then I take care of it during my rounds. Now, are you coming over here Amanda Lynn? Or are you going to make me fetch you. If I have to get up, I know one little girl who is going to get more than just rosy cheeks. She’s going to have difficulty sitting down at all on Christmas,” he warned her.

His eyes, no longer merry, seemed to have turned a steely blue shade as they fixed on her. He raised one hand and began to hold up fingers one at a time as he counted. “One…two….” The tight black leather of his sturdy driving gloves caught and held her attention until she saw four fingers and then she gasped and hurried over to his side.

“Better,” he said, sounding satisfied.

“But… but Santa! Why me? I wasn’t that bad. I mean, yes, I’ve been a little snotty and, okay, I did pout a little, but in comparison—why am I the one you’re punishing?” she asked in desperation. Surely with all the bad people in the world there were people who deserved punishment a lot worse than she did.

“I didn’t make that decision, Amanda. I never do. You decided to keep believing in Christmas magic, and you, some subconscious part of you, decided to listen for my bell. You decided to come and investigate the sounds, hoping, no doubt, to find me. When someone believes, and still finds themselves on the naughty list, my hands are tied—not literally, of course. That would make it hard to spank you.” He laughed at his own joke, a loud jolly sound that she thought for sure would wake the house, but no one came running to see.

She couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. Really? Jokes at a time like this? “That’s not funny,” she mumbled. Though she did try to keep the attitude in her tone down.

“I imagine you won’t find the next part very funny either, my dear. Now take those pajama bottoms down, if you please,” he said.

The order was firm, but there was still a hint of amusement there, and he was right, she didn’t think it was funny at all. She thought it was embarrassing and she couldn’t imagine anything she wanted to do less than take her pants down so Santa could spank her on Christmas Eve—what was even happening right now? Her bottom lip quivered as she hooked her fingers in the waistband and slowly inched it down her thighs.

He seemed to take pity on her, or at least saw no reason to extend her humiliation because as soon as they were far enough down, he reached up and tugged her straight across his generous lap, snugging her in place against his body. Considering the whole “bowl of jelly” thing he was supposed to have under his heavy red suit, his thighs felt surprisingly firm and muscled as she squirmed, trying to get comfortable while she lay over them.

“I really think I’m too old to need a spanking, Santa,” she said; one more attempt at escaping the punishment as she stared down at the worn old carpet. It didn’t help that her voice sounded childish to her own ears as she said it.

“No one is too old to learn how be good, especially during the holidays. Haven’t you ever read ‘A Christmas Carol’? Would you prefer a visit from three ghosts instead?” he asked.

She had to twist around to look over her shoulder in surprise. “Those aren’t real too, are they?!” she demanded.

He laughed and shook his head, “No, but the lesson the book teaches is important.” He patted her upturned backside lightly and she realized that he still wore the leather gloves.

“Aren’t—aren’t you going to take those off?” she asked, nervously looking at his hands.

“No, I don’t think so. No reason why my hand should sting just because you’ve been a naughty  girl, is there? Besides, I think the leather will add a nice emphasis to the lesson,” he said as he gave her left cheek a slap. The slight curving of his lips, just at the one side, made it clear that he knew exactly what added effect the leather would have.

Even that slap, without much force behind it, stung and she gave him a pouting look. It was the very same kind of look that had already gotten her in trouble and when his eyebrow went up to bring that to her attention, she quickly looked away and dropped her head. Her dark hair swept forward to hide her face, which was easier than just trying not to sulk.

This was not anywhere near how she’d expected her Christmas Eve to go. She’d have been over the moon to know Santa was real—if she wasn’t experiencing the reality while hanging over his lap. Who knew Santa was a spanker? Apparently, they’d left that out of the songs and stories, and as his hand smacked down, much harder this time, she jumped.

Her mouth opened in a round ‘Oh!’ of surprise but she didn’t make a sound. The leather seemed to muffle the slapping somewhat, but it definitely left an impression. She’d been expecting a token spanking, something quick and embarrassing, but nothing extreme—nothing that would actually hurt too badly.

She was wrong.

The lecture was just as painful as his leather-clad palm smacking down on her bare rump. The glove added a hefty dose of surface burning that made her feel like she’d sat her bare butt down on the stone hearth after the fire had been burning for a while. She wished she’d worn some panties under the baggie pj bottoms, though she wasn’t sure he’d have let her keep them up even if she had. She was being spanked by a fictional character so guessing what he’d allow was right out the window.

“Growing up is hard, Amanda. I realize that leaving behind toys and games and taking on adult responsibilities can be a challenge. But you don’t have to give up magic. You don’t have to give up the Christmas spirit just because what you get from the holiday has changed. You have a good heart and a strong sense of wonder—and I know you’ll do good in the world if you can just improve this attitude you’ve got going,” Santa said, and with every word his hand snapped down to punctuate it with a good reason to pay close attention to what he was telling her.

*SMACK* *SMACK* *SMACK* *SMACK*

One stinging swat after another fell across her vulnerable backside and before even ten had landed, she was promising to be good. Next year, she swore, she wouldn’t pout or whine at all! She wouldn’t get jealous of the younger kids getting things from Santa, and she’d be a lot more cheerful about helping with the holiday preparations, she assured him—loudly, and enthusiastically. It didn’t seem to help. Santa apparently had an agenda and he was sticking to it.

“I’ve had my eye on you for years, young lady, and this isn’t the first holiday attitude you’ve had either, just the worst so far. Remember, I know when you’ve been bad or good,” he reminded her.

The fact that he kept quoting all the songs she’d grown up with should have made the situation comical, and it might have, if it wasn’t for the fact that Santa was thoroughly heating up her backside while he quoted. He spanked her long and hard and didn’t stop until long after woeful tears and sniffles began. When her bottom was hotter than burning coal, and redder than Rudolph’s nose, Santa let his hand come to rest on her lower back, rubbing gently as she cried.

It took her a while to catch her breath, but eventually the sobs trailed off into sniffles and he lifted her up to sit in his lap. It oddly reminded her of sitting on a mall Santa’s lap to tell him what she wanted for Christmas, and she leaned against his chest. The red velvet of his jacket, with its white fur trim, was soft to rest her tear-stained cheek against, and she relaxed there finally.

“There now, you’re my good girl again, and you’re going to behave for next Christmas, aren’t you?” Santa asked her gently.

She nodded and then slowly tilted her head back to look up at him. His eyes were back to being merry again and he smiled when he saw her face peeking up at him.

“I—I still don’t understand why you spanked me, Santa,” she said, sounding confused. “I mean I understand I was being a jerk, but if you spanked everyone who was a jerk you wouldn’t have time to deliver presents. And you never spanked me before, not even in fifth grade when I got suspended for punching that girl who stole my hat. So why was this year so special?” she asked.

He regarded her quietly for a few moments. “Some things have to stay a mystery, to preserve the magic, Amanda. What I can tell you is that it’s very important for you to hold onto your belief in the spirit of Christmas. It will matter someday very much—but also, you made yourself ‘special’ as I said, I don’t choose the ones who need a little extra attention. They choose themselves,” he said firmly.

His hand rubbed slow circles on her back and she sat, shoulders slumping a little as she leaned into him. Pressed against his body for comfort, she realized that he didn’t really have a ‘bowl of jelly’ under his jacket. The velvet coat was thickly padded, so thickly she wondered that he wasn’t sweating buckets, but underneath she could feel that the strength in his upper body matched his sturdy muscled thighs.

She had a sudden, completely inappropriate flash of wondering exactly what he looked like underneath the costume. Santa, as if sensing where her thoughts had gone, suddenly was setting her on her feet and pulling up her pajama bottoms for her.

“Time can only be paused for so long, young lady. Now I suggest you go back to bed and get some sleep. Morning comes awfully early on Christmas,” he reminded her.

A wave of sleepiness rolled over her and as she yawned, she gave him a suspicious look, wondering if he’d somehow used his magic to make her so tired. She could barely keep her eyes open all of a sudden.

“B-but S-saaaan-ta,” she said, through a long drawn out yawn. “Will I see you again?” she asked.

He paused, giving her a very serious look as if deciding whether or not to answer. He tapped the side of his nose thoughtfully before he replied, “Perhaps. Perhaps if you work very hard at keeping a positive attitude and helping to build up the Christmas spirit in everyone around you, I might wake you up next year.”

She let out a squeal, and then quickly clapped both hands over her mouth. He chuckled, “Don’t worry, they’ll sleep until I’m gone, but no more whining and pouting about Christmas presents, young lady. Am I clear?” he asked.

She nodded her head rapidly. “I promise, I’ll be good, Santa,” she assured him. And she would, because it had never really been about the gifts, or at least not too much about the gifts. It had been about the magic and she had that back now. In fact, she had a special memory that no one else did. She’d been spanked by Santa! The actual, real, from the North Pole, Santa! Or at least she assumed he was from the North Pole.

She realized that she had a million of questions she wanted to ask him, but before she got the chance, he took a package out of his pocket and handed it to her and then while she was distracted with turning it over in her hands… he vanished back up the chimney without a sound.

She looked up and frowned, annoyed that she hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye, but her attention was drawn back to the gift. She wanted to open it right away, but when she looked at the tag it said “Don’t open—until NEXT Christmas! (I’ll know if you peek!)” and she scowled. That was unfair, that’s what that was! How was she ever going to last a whole year without knowing what was in the box!

Then she thought about it. The present had weight to it. Not physically, but somehow it felt… special, momentous. It wasn’t just that it was her first gift from Santa since she’d turned sixteen, and likely the last one she’d get from him. Whatever was inside the beautifully wrapped box had meaning, she could feel it. She didn’t know that it was a test, not exactly, but she did know she was going to be a very good girl and not peek in the box.

The wait was going to kill her, but no matter what, she would be holding it in her hands, unopened and pristine when the sound of bells woke her next Christmas.

Author’s note: If you think this didn’t expand into a whole novella in my head, you’d be wrong. It’s a real temptation to continue the story. Maybe for next year.

 

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