From: Santa

He’d left her gifts for her, wrapped and waiting under the tree. The card instructed her to open them and put them to use. Inside, she found a stunning red corset and stockings. She grinned holding the velvet corset to her waist, already picturing what she would look like wearing it. The second and largest box held gleaming black patent leather boots. She held them up, realizing they would stretch to her thighs. The stiletto heels would leave her teetering.

Woman, from the back, wearing a black corset. Circa 1920s

The note reminded her that she was still going to be punished for breaking the rules. The promise of punishment coupled with gifts left her breathless with anticipation. She knew it wouldn’t be any real distraction, and would likely inflame her more – but she began putting on the new clothes in preparation for his return.           

She was delighted with the way the corset cinched in her waist, highlighted her hips and pressed her tits up. The new red stockings nearly disappeared inside the tall boots he’d gifted her. The slick patent leather gleamed and hugged the curves of her legs. She stood before the mirror, admiring the way she looked. She loved everything about the outfit and wondered just what punishment he had in mind.    

The heels were just as high as she thought, and she walked in small steps around the house, getting used to them. She was finally comfortable taking larger steps when she heard him coming inside.    

“I see you followed my instructions this time,” he said coming into the room, hanging his coat on the rack. It left him in his shirt sleeves and suspenders.

She nodded, silently. Her eyes followed him around the room, as she tried not to fidget. He was going to make her wait, drag out her punishment. The butterflies in her stomach took flight, and she felt her arousal kindle. Waiting, standing in the sexy, slutty outfit he’d chosen for her – she felt more naked wearing it than wearing nothing. And the boots, with their leather that reached her thighs, with heels that hobbled her more effectively than manacles.

He finally walked over to her, and she felt his eyes on her. Had she included everything he’d asked for? She went over the list, the outfit was fine, and her dark bobbed hair was flawless. Her makeup, always the heavy dark eyes and shiny lipstick, were impeccably applied. Besides, she knew he only asked for the makeup to watch it smeared from her face.   

Nude woman standing holding a powder puff. A mirror is behind her

He ran a finger down her breast, before capturing her nipple between his fingers and twisting.

She gasped, stumbling a little in the boots. His free arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her, but his fingers didn’t stop twisting until she yelped. “Such a lovely package,” he said looking at her. With the heels, they were about the same height, and she found it harder to keep her eyes down. 

He patted the arm of the couch, “Bend over.”

She hurried over, the wetness coating her thighs. She couldn’t exactly bend with the corset, but she shifted around until her hips pressed against the couch and her elbows rested on the seat. The heels had her ass tilted up. She was taut with expectation. Was this going to be just a spanking? Would he use his crop? Or maybe the flogger? Her breathing quickened, and her nipples brushed the couch in a tantalizing tease.

When his hand caressed her ass, she couldn’t hold back her mew of pleasure. “Spread your legs” his voice was rough and thick with his own desire.

She shifted her feet; the heels once more making her slow her movements. And she didn’t act coyly about it. She spread her legs wide, knowing at the tilted angle, her sex was open for his viewing pleasure.

Once again, she felt his hand on her ass, caressing her. Now, she knew that now he’d start her punishment. She’d feel the crack of his palm on her ass, or maybe the sting of the crop. She shivered in anticipation. She wanted to beg him to start the punishment, the words burned on her tongue – but she knew that begging, at least now, wouldn’t get her what she craved. Her hips bumped the couch, as she shifted under his hand.

He walked away from her, and from her position, she couldn’t see him. She strained to hear his movements. Was he walking toward the crop? Or was he walking toward the kitchen? She couldn’t tell.

Finally, he was back. His hand once more on her ass, “Such a bad girl,” he said.

She felt the sting of the crop on her ass and yelped. He’d hit her softly, and they both knew it, but the pent up waiting and anticipation was nearly overwhelming. He laughed softly at her yelp, and let loose with the crop.

Woman bent over, her ass exposed. Circa 1920s

Her purr of contented delight devolved into panting moans and squeals. Each snap of the crop left her skin red and stinging. She wobbled in her heels, and He wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her. Once she was steady, he released her, once again caressing her ass.

She shivered, his touch traveling over each welt. “Such a naughty, naughty girl,” he said, his fingers slipping between her legs. His fingers traveled up her thighs, “You’re so wet, you’re practically dripping.”

She wriggled at his touch, fighting to stay still and longing to tilt her hips just enough that’d his hand would find her pussy.

He must have noticed her movements, because he moved his hand, and slapped her ass.

Her yelp lost in his laugh. “I have another present for you,” his hand caressed her ass, his finger tracing her ass crack. “But to earn it, you’ll need to move.”

She felt another flush of excitement and trepidation. She had thought the outfit and the flogging were her gifts. When he helped her rise, she was unsteady on her feet. She swayed into him. He stood behind her, one arm around her waist and one hand cupping her bared breasts. He led her to the other side of the sofa, the armless side. He had her lying back, her legs off the sofa. In the boots her knees were bent, leaving her feeling even more exposed.

“You look delicious,” he said gazing down at her. He reached down and tweaked her nipples.

“And my gift?” she asked, looking up at him. And she heard the door open. Not the front door, but the door to his workshop. She started to move, thinking perhaps to cover herself, but he shook his head.

Woman lying on her back with her legs spread.

“You gift and theirs,” he said, as his workmen came filing in.

She looked up, between her spread knees, and found the elves staring at her, her position and outfit clearly sending a message. They looked from her to him and back again.

He leaned down and kissed her, “Merry Christmas.”  

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