Amanda had gone to bed on Christmas Eve with visions of sugarplums dancing in her head. She should have been surprised when Santa woke her that Christmas morning, gently shaking her shoulder as he looked down at her. But there was something so calming in his presence, and something so kind in the jolly old elf’s smile, that Amanda didn’t feel the least bit alarmed.
“Santa? Is it really you?”
“Ho-ho-ho! Yes it is, young lady. Tell me, Amanda, have you been a good girl this year?” the jolly old elf asked.
“Oh, yes, I have, Santa!” Amanda said enthusiastically. “I’ve worked very hard at the firm, and I’ve made partner. I do lots of pro bono work, and I work at the homeless shelter every Saturday. I try to be kind and good to everyone I meet.”
“Yes, I know all about that, which is why you are getting a very special visit from me tonight. But remember, Amanda, I see you when you’re sleeping, and I know when you’re awake. Santa even knows your browsing history.”
Amanda blushed as red as old St. Nick’s coat as the jolly old elf looked down at her with a wry twinkle in her eye.
“Oh…that. Well, I do look at some spanking stories on the Internet… and some pictures, too, I guess. But they’re just fantasizes. Harmless, really. I am a good girl, not like the naughty girls in those stories.”
“Ho-ho-ho!” Santa said. “I know that, Amanda. Which is why I’m going to make your Christmas dream come true.”
Santa reached into his sack and extracted a most peculiar looking object. It was a piece of beveled, dark wood, highly polished. There was a brass door knob at the bottom of it, confirming that it was a fragment of an old door. But the door to what, Amanda wondered.
“Knock on it,” Santa instructed.
Amanda sat up in bed, covering herself modestly with the bedclothes to hide her nightie from St. Nick. She reached out, and forming her hand into a fist, followed the smiling old elf’s instructions.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
On the third knock Amanda was no longer in her bedroom, but was standing in a hallway. In the reflection of the highly polished wood she saw her 19-year-old self, wearing a school rep tie, and a green school blazer with a school crest on the jacket.
“Come in!” a booming voice said.
Amanda hesitated, looking down at her skirt. It was green, like her jacket, and ended several inches above her knees. Green thigh high socks and polished black lace up shoes completed her schoolgirl ensemble.
What was happening? She wasn’t in school! She had never even been in a private school, let alone worn a uniform.
“I said COME IN!”, the voice on the other side of the door boomed impatiently.
Swallowing hard, Amanda turned the shiny brass door knob Santa had first shown her a minute before. She felt confused, and her legs felt like jelly, as she walked into the richly appointed Headmaster’s study. It was all old Victorian dark wood, polished and highly masculine. As she entered, the Headmaster, whom she guessed to be about 50, put down his papers and rose to greet her.
“There you are, Amanda. I’ve been expecting you. May I see your punishment slip?”
“My… my punishment slip?” Amanda said, squinting at him in confusion.
“Yes! In your pocket! The pink slip in your pocket, you silly girl. Really, Amanda! You’re my best student. Don’t play stupid now.”
Amanda looked down at her jacket pocket and noticed that in fact there was a pink slip protruding like a strange sort of pocket handkerchief. Her fingers trembling, she reached into her pocket and handed it to the frowning Headmaster.
“Well, it seems like someone has been reading naughty stories on the Internet. Stories where misbehaving schoolgirls get what they jolly well deserve: a well smacked bottom!”
Amanda looked down at her shoes. It was bad enough to have Santa know about her naughty reading habits. But did everyone know?
Really, Amanda! It breaks my heart to have to do this, seeing as how you are the best student we have, and such a good girl, besides. Exemplary in every particular, in fact. However, abusing school property… not to mention abusing yourself, is strictly against the rules. Really, Amanda! Diddling yourself while using a school computer. I’m shocked to think you thought you’d get away with it. If I hadn’t seen the security camera footage I wouldn’t have believed it. What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?”
Amanda wanted to disappear. “Nothing, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. I’m so truly sorry.”
The quiver in her voice and her deep red blushed proved that Amanda was speaking the truth, but the old Headmaster was not satisfied. “Not as sorry as you will be, girl. I think the proper punishment for you is to experience the sort of punishment you found so titillating. Don’t you agree?”
The Headmaster didn’t wait for an answer, but instead retreated to open his cupboard and extract a long, yellow, cane. Amanda’s red face quickly paled as the Headmaster bent it into a half circle to demonstrated its murderous flexibility, and gave it several practice SWISHES, slicing the air. Amanda winced with every stroke.
“Bend over and touch your toes, girl. Six-of-the-best, to start with.”
Amanda turned and assumed the required position, lifting her bottom high for discipline. How often had she imagined being in this position, fantasizing about being in the Headmaster’s office, called to account for some minor transgression? Nearly every night. She had let her fingers-do-the-walking, never imagining that she might be punished for her Internet habits or self-abuse.
The roller coaster like excitement of her fantasizes was now replace with genuine fear as she felt her Headmaster flip her skirt up over her back to expose the tight seat of her school knickers. Amanda soon learned her knickers too were green as the Headmaster skinned them down to her ankles, baring her bottom and adding an enormous dollop of humiliation to her mounting fear.
Amanda stiffened as she felt the Headmaster tap her bottom with the cane. A part of her felt it was all very unfair and unjust, as she was an adult and had every right to read what she pleased. But another part of her felt very much like a naughty schoolgirl caught with her hand in her knickers, dreading a punishment she knew she deserved. In fact, even now, Amanda felt a dampness between her legs as her fantasy came true.
WHOOSH!
The pain was incredible, but from her reading Amanda knew what she had to do.
“One, Sir! Thank you, Sir!”
WHOOSH!
“Two, Sir! Thank you, Sir!”
The Headmaster paused to tickle her bottom with the cane. “I read those stories of yours. Naughty girls juicing their knickers. Disgusting. Well, you’ll pay the price for it now!”
WHOOSH!
“Three, Sir, Thank you, Sir!”
WHOOSH!
“Ohhh…Ohhh… Please. You don’t have to cane me anymore, Sir. I’ve learned my lesson, Sir! Truly, I have!”
“I’ll decide when you’ve learned your lesson, you impertinent little slut, and you’ll get that stroke over, since you missed the count!”
Whoosh!
Amanda squeezed her thighs together, trying to use her excitement to distract her from the pain. She didn’t dare break position, or backchat the Headmaster again.
“Four, Sir! Thank you, Sir!”
WHOOSH!
“Ahh…ahh…. Five, Sir! Thank you, Sir!”
“We’re going to make this last one, count, and give you something to think about over the next few weeks.”
The Headmaster was true to his word, and brought down a final blazing stripe that bisected Amanda’s cheeks. She hopped up and went into a little spanking dance even as she called out the stroke. Kicking off her green knickers she shouted, “Six, Sir. Thank you, Sir! Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!”
The Headmaster, unimpressed, grabbed Amanda by the ear and reached between her legs. Amanda squealed as his probing fingers located the source of her pleasure.
“Aha!” he said accusingly. “Just as I thought. Pleasuring yourself, are you? Well I’m going to take care of that, young lady, before I give you another six!”
And so it was that the old Headmaster gave Amanda a good rub, crashing her into orgasm before he ordered her back over for another six strokes she could focus on.
Amanda awoke that Christmas morning with a very wet pussy, but 12 stripes across her bottom. Santa had granted her Christmas fantasy, and she was glad that she had left him those the milk and cookies.
Meanwhile, 600 miles away, and old man that Amanda had never met awoke with a wet spot on the front of his pajamas. His wrist was a bit sore, and his fingers wet, but he was glad that he had left Santa that bottle of brandy, for at long last his Headmaster fantasy had come true.
MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!
