Anna Meets Santa
Written by Cherise Sinclair
for Herding Cats & Burning Soup
Anna from Herding Cats & Burning Soup said she wanted something fun and sexy for a holiday post, so I volunteered her as the victim…uh, star of the piece. Hope you enjoy Anna Meets Santa.
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Her hands were clammy, her heart pounding as Anna walked into the notorious BDSM club, the Shadowlands. Relax. Watching a demo isn’t scary. This will be easy. She managed to smile at the security guard. “I’m Anna from the Herding Cats and Burning Soup blog. I have an appointment with Master Z.”
The craggy-featured man frowned and nodded toward her feet. “Shoes.”
Oh. Right. Her buddy, Cherise, who’d set up the appointment had mentioned that the submissives went barefoot. Huh. As she put her sandals into a cubbyhole, she wondered how the guard decided she was. Had her sundress mysteriously acquired a logo saying, “I’m submissive. Whip me.”? She glanced down. No—the front still showed a cute kitten-in-a-Christmas-stocking graphic.
Stepping inside the quiet clubroom, she looked around. The place wouldn’t open for another hour, and the tables and chairs and BDSM equipment lining the walls were empty. Eerie.
“Are you Anna?”
The deep voice startled her, and she spun. To her right, a tall man rose to his feet. Not the owner of the Shadowlands, Master Z. This man was younger with broad shoulders, a lean chiseled face, thick brown hair…and wearing Santa suit. The red velvet coat hung open showing a tanned, muscular chest and six-pack abs. Ho, ho, ho-boy. The guy was hot enough to melt all the snow at the North Pole.
Resisting the urge to fan herself, she gave him her best smile. “Yes, I’m Anna.”
“Z was called away. He asked me to talk with you. I’m Jake.” The man patted a chair beside his. “Sorry about the costume. I visited a pediatrics unit at the hospital and haven’t had time to change.”
Aw, that was sweet. The kids must have been thrilled. She took a seat, noticing the costume’s padding, a red tasseled hat, and a white beard lay in a pile on the floor. “I won’t take much of your time. If you could simply give me a demonstration of a lightweight scene for my blog, I’ll be on my way. ”
“Difficult to scene with only one person.” His half-smile could undoubtedly devastate a roomful of women; a full grin might take out Tampa. “Are you offering to play?”
Me? Eeeks! “I—I guess.”
“Good enough. Let’s see if I can’t come up with something interesting.” As Jake leaned back and stretched out his legs, his black boots scraped her bare feet. Don’t squirm. Don’t squirm. Sheesh, it was just wrong for one man to be so totally sexy.
When his gaze lingered on her face, she knew her skin must have taken on a beet-like hue.
After an excruciatingly long minute, he said gravely, “I think you’d be good at role-playing. Just follow my lead and call me Santa.”
He rose. From his red, coat pocket, he pulled out a pad of paper. As he studied it, his dark brows drew together.
A frisson of worry tingled across her nerves. Had she done something wrong? “What?”
“Anna, your name is here on the Naughty List. It seems you’ve been very, very bad.”
The frown he gave her was so intimidating that she was on her feet before she thought. “I haven’t!” At the slight quirk of his lips, she realized he was playing. Role-playing. “I mean, I’ve been a good girl.”
“Really? It says here that—“
“No.” She pulled in a breath. C’mon, Anna, play the game. “Okay, I did a couple of things. But letting air out of my teacher’s tires isn’t such a big deal.” Actually, she’d done that once, several years ago, and Mr. Garvis had been sooo pissed-off she’d thought his head would explode. What else—she tried to remember what she’d done as a child. Oh, right. “And I only switched the salt with the sugar for half the shakers at the Girl Scout awards dinner.”
“Hmm. Anna, I’m sorry, but bad girls don’t get presents.”
“Oh, please, Santa.” She put her hands together and added in pleading tones. “I really want presents.”
He tapped the pad against his hand and regarded her silently.
She shifted her weight uneasily, recalling how it felt to stand in front of the school principal. “Uh. Santa?”
“It’s like this, bad girl. Either you can be punished and forgiven, or you will only get coal in your stockings.” One eyebrow lifted as he waited for her answer.
She bit her lip. Punished? Was he serious?
When he’d pushed the sleeves of the suit up, exposing thickly muscled forearms, a tremor of anxiety slid down her spine. But she couldn’t back out now; her readers would never forgive her. “Um…I don’t want coal.” Actually, she wasn’t sure what coal looked like, but it would probably look ugly in a lacy stocking.
“Punishment then.” He sat on the leather ottoman in the center of the chairs, and then patted his thighs. “Over my knees.”
“What?” she whispered. Her legs wobbled.
She’d always thought dark eyes were the most menacing, but Jake’s green gaze cut through her resistance like a scalpel through flesh. With a gulp, she stayed in her role, carefully lying down where he indicated. His thighs felt like iron under her soft stomach.
“I like the brave ones,” he murmured, stroking her back with a warm hand. “Palms to the floor.”
When she flattened her hands on the hardwood floor, he shifted her until much of her weight was on her arms. Until she wouldn’t be able to move quickly. The feeling of being powerless made quivers dance low in her belly.
When he squeezed one buttock, she couldn’t prevent a shiver at the strength in his hand.
“Are you ready, little Anna?”
Holy fuckdoodles, no. With an effort, she controlled her breathing and nodded.
“I’ll start light, pet.”
After a few easy pats, he started to hit harder. Then he smacked her bottom hard enough to sting.
Her legs jerked. Ouch!
Two more mildly painful smacks hit. Thank goodness for the coverage of her dress which softened the blows. “Not too bad, right?” He ran his hand over her bottom, rubbing the ache out.
She closed her eyes as his intensely masculine scent drifted to her, making her far too aware of the warmth of his hand. And far too aware that she was starting to dampen. He’d hardly done anything and she was getting turned on.
Shut it down, girl.
“Here are the rules of the game,” he said. “If you say, I want good presents, Santa, I’ll hit harder.” He set one hand flat on her back, holding her in place as he delivered a smack hard enough to curl her toes.
“Say Just a few presents, Santa if the spanking is too hard.” He gave her a gentler strike.
Her bottom was starting to burn, and even worse, so was the rest of her. If only he’d just spank her, she wouldn’t be getting so excited, but he kept stopping to stroke her bottom. Her upper thighs.
“Stop means we’ll halt the entire game.” He pushed her hair off her neck, and when he ran a calloused finger over her nape, she felt goosebumps break out all over. “Do you understand so far?”
“Yes, Santa.” Her voice came out so husky that she sounded like a phone-sex operator. She closed her eyes tightly in sheer humiliation.
He chuckled. “You really are a naughty little Anna, aren’t you? I think more punishment is indicated.”
Cool air brushed her thighs as he was slowly drew up the skirt of her dress. The fabric slid over her upper thighs, her bottom, and pooled around her waist. Her ass was almost bare. When he ran a warm finger ran along the top of her far-too-skimpy thong, she almost moaned.
Without warning, he swatted her bottom hard enough that the sound ran through the room.
Hard enough that the painful sting burst through her body. “Uh!” When she couldn’t keep from wiggling, he laughed. Three more hard swats to her bottom turned her entire lower half into molten heat.
“Soooo, little Anna,” he murmured. He flattened his palm on one buttock, inches from where the apex between her legs throbbed with every b beat of her heart.
“Please…” she whispered and stopped.
He leaned forward, his voice low and stern enough to make her melt. “If I you say, ‘Please, Santa, I want a really nice present’”—he stroked his finger across the crease between her bottom and one thigh—“I’ll tie you to a bondage table and get…creative.”
Creative. The flush of heat rushing through her turned her mouth dry. “Please, Santa…”
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Sorry, Anna, my dear, but this is where I’m going to stop. Heheheh.
Many thanks to Herding Cats and Burning Soup for inviting me to join the Authors for the Holidays celebration.
For everyone who wandered by today to visit—I send hopes that your naughty behavior be most enjoyably rewarded.
And to you all, may peace, joy, and love be yours this holiday season and throughout the coming year,
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Herding Cats & Burning Soup: Guest Post with Cherise Sinclair