#749) ‘Tis the Season, I Feel Like a Ho-Ho-Ho

We’re slowly emerging from corona virus restrictions, although I don’t know if we really should be. I’ve been a good girl, playing it safe for about two whole years, but I’m so fatigued with that. I wanted to let my inner spank-whore out to play.
For the first time in over two years, there was a Santa Claus convention scheduled for the big Midwestern city about an hour and a half north of my small town. I decided to attend, but not in a fluffy white beard. I dressed in my best naughty schoolgirl outfit, with short pleated skirt, torn fish-net stockings, Mary Janes, push-up bra and white blouse with its Peter Pan collar unbuttoned (way down). I put my hair up in a ponytail, wore eye make-up that looked like I put it on with a chisel-tipped magic marker, and made a big posterboard sign with an actual magic marker. I got to the convention just as the shebang was getting under way. Thinking that there wouldn’t be too many female Santa’s or Mrs. Claus’ in attendance, I set-up my shop just outside the women’s bathroom.
I posed like I was hitch-hiking, with my thumb gesturing toward the ladies loo. The sign by my side said, “I’m the reason you even have a naughty list. I’ve been bad! What shall we do about that?”
It didn’t take long for my first Santa to stop and read my sign. He smirked. I could tell that the long white hair and beard were fake, that he was just a little older than me. We smilingly went into the women’s restroom hand-in-hand. As suspected, it was deserted. Our voices echoed off the walls.
“So, you’ve been a bad girl?” this Santa asked with mock seriousness.
“Very bad, Santa. I feel so guilty about it…”
“Want to give me an idea of your misbehaviors?”
“I thought that you could see me when I was sleeping… around…” I answered. This seemed to put him back on his kinky black boot heels.
“Well then, do you have an idea how to atone for these crimes, young lady?”
I pushed him up against the row of sinks, rubbed my bottom in a way that made my skirt ride up to reveal that my fish-nets were all I was wearing underneath. “It’s been ever so long since I got a good spanking…” and I bent across the sinks right beside him.
Because this Santa was not as pure as freshly driven snow, he got my drift. He began spanking me. The loud report rang off the walls, making it sound much worse than it really was. Still, I yelped and bounced as if he was really punishing my plump yet pert posterior cruelly, then reached over and began wanking him off through his fly. His belly, that looked like a jiggling bowl full of jelly any girl would envy for butt cheeks, turned out to be all padding. He actually had a six-pack.
“Hey, you’re pretty hot!” I whispered appreciatively.
“So are you!” he returned, desperation starting to show in his demeanor.
“So is my ass!” I whimpered as if in distress. “Spank me harder, Santa! Spank my naughty butt good!”
In a surprise to both of us, we each climaxed simultaneously and satisfyingly, me squirting all over my lowered fish-nets, him spurting all across the front of his red suit.
I took off my shoes in order to take off the sopping stockings. Reaching in my purse, I withdrew a pair of tidy-whities underwear, and put them on. Poor Santa wasn’t so easily cleaned-up. Ropes of white ejaculate now decorated his red costume like ermine-trim gone crazy.
“What am I gonna do?” he plaintively wailed, rubbing the stains with a handful of paper-towels.
“I’d suggest professional dry cleaning,” I offered. I picked up my sign and went back outside. He slunk by me a few minutes later, headed for the parking lot.
“Thanks a lot,” he muttered sarcastically.
“Thank you, Santa!” I returned cheerfully, rubbing my still-warm bottom through my fresh panties. Because I still worried about being indoors for any length of time, even though I was double-vaccinated, I pulled a white cotton mask from my purse and put it on.
It didn’t take long for another Santa to stop at my sign and engage me in conversation. This guy was the polar opposite from the last. He was aged, with an authentic beard, wire-rimmed glasses, rosy cheeks, substantial heft to him, and a puritanical attitude. He was an honest-to-goodness naturally big, straight-arrow of a guy that made me feel small, in every way, in moral rectitude as well as stature. Just looking at him made me think that he could put me in my place, and that place was over his knee.
“Well, well, one from the naughty list, eh?” he said disapprovingly. “I used to put a lump of coal and a switch in the stockings of naughty little ones. Do you know what the switch was used for?”
“I can guess…” I said, rubbing my still-smarting cheeks provocatively
“What?” he demanded loudly, “I can’t hear you through your mask…”
I took the mask down to hang below my chin, “Come in here where we can talk,” I said, and took him by the hand, just as I had the last one. “I said that, just like I took my white cotton mask down, you ought to take these white cotton knickers down and spank me good and proper.” His eyes met mine, then traveled down to my bottom, which I was sticking out seductively. I pushed my panties up the crack of my ass to display my reddened rump. “The last Santa didn’t do a very thorough job of it…”
Without further ado, he took me by the hand into the handicapped stall, sat on the toilet-seat, and pulled me over his large knee. I’ve never been spanked by a man wearing white gloves before, I don’t think I’ve ever been spanked as hard before. God, he was good at it! He warmed me up across my panty-clan bottom with his gloves on. Then he made an elaborate ritual of pulling his right glove off, followed by my underwear, which was quickly yanked to my knees. He gave me a veritable blistering on the bare. At one point, I bounced on his lap to surreptitiously see if Santa was getting a stiffy. Nope, he was paddling me just for the joy of it, just because I needed it. This wasn’t quid pro quo; it was “take that, young lady.”
“Please, Sir,” I whimpered, “Let that be enough! I’ve learned my lesson!”
Santa snorted. “You don’t get to determine that. I’ll tell you when you’ve been spanked enough… Get up!”
He marched me over to the row of sinks, and bent me across it, butt up. I saw him undo his thick, wide, black leather belt by its huge golden buckle. Oh fuck, I thought! He gave me ten mighty licks with the leather. It stung like hell. I actually cried real tears.
“THAT should be enough!” he proclaimed.
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir!”
He could clearly see that, besides making my backside crimson red, he’d made my sex very wet and excited, yet he pulled my panties back up circumspectly. “I want you to turn over a new leaf, young lady, from this moment forward. Or on Christmas night, I might just give you a lesson with an actual switch.”
I’d gotten what I came for, an afternoon of fun and a well-warmed seat. I nodded to this realistic Kris Kringle, and tried to smile. I took my sign and went to find my old car in the vast parking lot. I was fantasizing about combining those two Santas into the perfect guy, somebody who looked great AND could discipline great. Then, who should I see in the car next to mine but Santa # 1. He was just sitting there, looking dejected. After I put my sign back in the trunk, I approached his passenger-side window, thinking about what big Santa # 2 had said..
“Hey, I wronged you inadvertently back there,” I said as I knocked, unable to keep from rubbing my well-strapped backside. “I’m sorry you stained your cute suit, how can I make it up to you?” He unlocked the car-door and I got inside beside him. I don’t think he noticed that I sat on one hip.
“Wanna give me head?” he brightened.
“I’m a gagger, have never been able to tolerate things in the back of my mouth, much less down my throat. Sorry! I was thinking more along the lines of covering the cleaning cost…”
“That’d be very considerate of you!” he returned.
I reached in my purse and pulled out my only ten dollar bill. “Will this cover it?”
“No, but it’s the gesture that counts… And I did get off, too…”
“You spanked me very well!” I fibbed. He seemed nice, and showed potential to be trainable, so I ventured further, “Because you climaxed, I was wondering… Are you a spanko, too?”
“Yeah, always have been,” he answered.
I switched hips so I was now facing away from him. “Then you’ll appreciate this,” I said and pulled my panties down to reveal my brightly glowing cheeks.
“God, you’ve got a gorgeous ass!” he complimented “I thought so when I was spanking it, but it looks even better all the redder!”
“Thanks,” I blushed with my upper pair of cheeks, and rubbed my blushing lower set so that he could catch a glimpse of my feminine charms. “Where do you live anyway?”
“Versailles, Kentucky,” he answered, pronouncing the city with a country accent, very much unlike the French.
“What a coincidence, me, too! Want to give me your phone number? Maybe we could get together sometime… I mean for coffee, not to spank… I don’t mean right away… but we have a lot in common…”
He nodded, so I gave him my Smartphone to add his number to my directory.
“And put your name in there, too,” I said sheepishly.

4 responses to “#749) ‘Tis the Season, I Feel Like a Ho-Ho-Ho”

    • Guilty on all charges! I thought you were going to day Liberal, which is also true. I often feel like a hippie who was born too late. When I wrote post #751, it made me wistful for a time when free-love was rampant, when (I’m told) after shaking someone’s hand, you might just transition to sex… I believe that you and I are very different in our political beliefs, and it pleases me greatly that we’ve been able to meet on-line, via both blogs, and talk so positively and openly, Bogie. I hope that this continues!

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    • Way back in my first posts, I believe I mentioned Krampus and these old beliefs (as well as Festivus, etc.). No post about that this year (I don’t believe), but one today for National Denim Day…

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