12 Naughty Days of Christmas: Volume Four

by Piper Stone

  And then, after continuing to bring her to the same heights relentlessly, over and over, until she nearly collapsed from it, he had spanked her, the bastard. He had rolled her uncoordinated body onto her tummy when she was still in the grip of the rolling waves of pleasure he had inflicted on her – which would only make it that much worse for her and he knew it – and thrashing her soundly, simply because he wanted to.

  That was something that he demanded of her that she wasn’t used to, and she was having a hard time wrapping her head around that concept. Tira’d been very upfront with him about her ambivalence; she’d told him outright that she still wasn’t really sure how she felt about it. Being spanked for doing something that he considered to be wrong or naughty was something she expected, even wanted, and she was comfortable letting him set rules for her. They were very sound, smart ones – exactly what she knew he’d come up with, instead of silly “gotcha” traps.

  But having to submit to a punishment from him, which was never an easy thing, when she hadn’t done anything to deserve it was challenging her more than anything else about their relationship.

  He had listened to her very seriously, reassuring her that he didn’t want to do anything that made her feel uncomfortable. He’d held her in his arms, on his lap while they were in his big bed. “Good girl for telling me about that.” Baz squeezed all of her at once, since his arms were still around her from having lifted her onto him. “Does it make you feel… bad? As if I’m abusing you or taking advantage of your submission to me?”

  Tira was trying to be as open with him as she could. “No, not really.”

  “Can you describe to me what it’s making you feel when I do that, angel?”

  “Like I don’t want you to do it,” she answered vehemently, and Baz had to chuckle at that.

  “Well, I can understand that, little girl. I truly can. But does it make you afraid of me, or make you angry or resentful that I’m disciplining you, or make you love me less?”

  He’d said the L-word to her on the first night after he’d moved her in, emphasizing that he didn’t expect her to say it back, which was good, because she couldn’t quite then. But since then, he’d kind of taken it upon himself to teasingly assume that she did.

  “No, none of those things.”

  “So, it really doesn’t go any further than the fact that you don’t want me to do it?”

  Tira paused, thinking hard. “No… it doesn’t.”

  “Well, then,” he’d said, kissing her forehead tenderly. “I’m afraid that you know what I’m going to say.”

  She sighed, filling in, “That me not wanting you to isn’t reason enough for you not to.”

  “Exactly.”

  Pasting on an innocent look that she’d hoped against hope that he was going to buy, she changed her tune. “Then it makes me feel angry and resentful and makes me afraid of you and makes me love you a lot, lot less,” she confessed, batting her big hazel eyes up at him.

  But he had turned the tables on her, flipping her over his lap and giving her an impromptu spanking of just the kind they were discussing. “Uh huh. I have my own philosophy about it, little miss. I think, although I know it hurts, that you like it. And you don’t know what to do with that, so it makes it a little scary, maybe. It sits a bit uncomfortably in your head, and you don’t like that. But I am of a mind that you are mine, and I will spank you whenever I want to, and a bit of discomfort – on either end – is only going to help you grow.”

  Tira hated growing. She’d grown up already. When was all of this annoying growing going to stop, already?

  Finally, he handed her the last load of stuff to go into the cabin. It seemed to be snowing harder than ever; some of the path she’d made out to him was already filled in with several inches of the white stuff. He took the shovel from her and said, “Take this stuff inside, and stay there, as I told you to originally.”

  Uh oh.

  “I’m going to finish shoveling the way to the car, then I’m going to dig out the woodpile as much as I can, and get a couple of loads of it in for the night, so at least we’ll be warm while I tan your hide.”

  “Hey!” she yelped as she turned away to, for once, do as she was told.

  His scolding, “You heard me, young lady,” goosed her to trot inside, ringing in her ears as she set about unpacking the stuff they’d brought.

  Well, he’d brought, anyway. They didn’t have a lot of information about what the cabin was like, it had been a while since Dan’s friend had been there, so he’d brought a ton of stuff – oil and oil lamps, battery powered lamps, enough food to feed most of the state for the rest of the year, blankets… and, of course, presents. Then there was the normal stuff in their suitcases too.

  She took the opportunity to explore the place a little. It really was a pretty place, with exposed beams and all beautiful, gleaming wood. It seemed to have all of the modern conveniences, although none of them worked, unfortunately, but that was undoubtedly down to the storm. They’d noticed, and heard, the generators in people’s yards as they’d driven down the winding country lane to the cabin, so she guessed that she had to be thankful for his preparedness habits. Neither of them had really paid any attention to the weather, which was stupid, but it was almost always sunny and much warmer where they were from. Although, that wouldn’t be much of an excuse if someone found them months later, frozen to death for lack of foresight in not going to weather.com to see if there was a blizzard expected in the Green Mountains over the holiday.

  When he came in, he looked like a lean, tall snowman, and then he commenced shaking like a big, wet dog, which had her chiding him. “You’re getting the floor all wet! Couldn’t you do that outside?”

  He frowned fiercely down at her. “It’s cold outside, woman. You want me to take all of my layers off and freeze to death out there or manage to live to take care of you while we’re pretty much trapped here, even if I snow on the floor?”

  She grinned unrepentantly. “Are those my only choices?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re already due one spanking, by my reckoning, are you trying for a second?”

  “Oh, no, Sir, not that!” She feigned horror.

  “I can see that I’ve been entirely too easy on you, cheeky minx,” he glared in mock anger, loving the sound of her giggles and her broad smile.

  He built a gorgeous fire in the huge stone fireplace that dominated the big, open main room, heating the comfy sitting area, the small, somewhat rickety dining area, and the kitchen very nicely. There was a bathroom and a big bedroom off it, and stairs up to two more, smaller bedrooms. But before he allowed them to settle down and enjoy it, he made her help him take stock of what they had.

  Besides what they’d brought, there was quite a bit of food in the cabin when they got there; there were a lot of non perishable things like breakfast and granola bars, all stored in mouse-proof boxes, along with cans of vegetables and soups. The fridge was pretty much empty and useless, but what they needed to be kept cold they could stick out in the snow. There was more than enough wood outside to get them through to spring if they needed to, so they probably wouldn’t starve, if they were careful, and they wouldn’t freeze, which was good. He found a rifle and ammunition in the back pantry, as well as an old radio that sparked to life as it was turned on, and stayed on only long enough to hear that the forecast was for snow, snow, and then… more snow.

  “Well, honey, I think we’re stuck here for a while, but we pretty much have the essentials covered, which is good, and I, for one, am looking forward to it.”

  “I don’t even have a cell signal!” Tira whined.

  But Baz came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as he took her phone out of her hands. “Good. You don’t need it anyway, baby. You have other things to worry about.”

  She leaned back against his strong length as he began to rock them side to side, blithely asking, “What do I have to worry about?” Then she stiffened a bit, although he refused to let
her go. “You’re not going to punish me for shoveling instead of staying where I was put, are you?”

  Baz turned her around in his arms, frowning down at her in an all too real manner. “Tell me, am I that kind of Dom?”

  Relaxing again, Tira admitted, “No, you’re not.”

  “Good.”

  She waited for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, she prompted, “So? What do I have to worry about?”

  That got him chuckling as he kissed the side of her neck wetly, deliberately making a smooching sound.

  “Whether I’m going to spank you before I have you, or after.”

  “That’s not right!” she huffed.

  “And/or whether or not we brought enough lube, my love.” His hand began to creep under the layers of her clothing as he slowly swayed them back and forth. “I don’t think snow will work.” Then he stopped abruptly, teasing, “Listen to me. I forget of whom I speak.”

  “BAZ!” she screeched, practically in his ear, ruining the otherwise romantic moment, although, as usual, he didn’t completely let her go, keeping his fingers entwined with hers so that she couldn’t get very far away from him.

  As he reeled her in, he laughed. “What, honey? I consider that an incredible compliment. I love how warm and juicy you always are for me.”

  Baz raised his arm and thus hers, forcing her up onto her tiptoes, then twirled her half way around, until he could pull her back against his front. Holding her there with her wrists still held high in one hand, the other on her belly, delved beneath the loose waistband of her jeans, descending terribly slowly south, as if waiting for her to object, while Tira held her breath.

  His fingers were flooded long before he reached those enticing folds.

  “Mmm,” he breathed into her ear, his chest vibrating against her back. “Even when all we were doing was manual labor, nothing even remotely sexual, you are wonderfully wet for me.”

  “That’s because every single thing between us is sexual, on some level.”

  He released her wrists so that his hands could reach up under her tee shirt, her long sleeved tee shirt, her vest, and then her pullover sweater to push her bra – a presence that she knew he found annoying and extraneous – up to allow his big hands to be filled by her breasts.

  “That’s exactly how I feel too, love. That’s exactly how I feel.”

  She wanted to turn and kiss him, but he wouldn’t let her, preferring instead to play with her pretty pastel nipples. It was kind of strange, especially since he had a definite tendency to keep her naked as much as possible, for him to be touching her under all of these clothes. It was almost dirtier, somehow, more illicit than if she had been naked.

  But he was just teasing, and didn’t really get her anywhere, anyway, leaving her just that much more frustrated, which was another thing she loved to hate about him. He was always touching her, and, from very early on, even his most casual touch made her ache for him.

  Chapter 2

  She did end up getting the spanking he’d promised, although it wasn’t delivered by the usual means. Over the past few weeks, he’d used his hand, her own hairbrush, a wooden spatula, which was handy because they were in the kitchen – and had since disappeared from their utensil collection, and for which she’d already been thoroughly chastised – his belt, a paddle and a heavy wooden ruler.

  Once they’d gotten a bit more settled, he’d appeared before her, where she was snuggled on the big couch, holding out a small, wrapped present, saying much too gleefully, as far as she was concerned, “Early Merry Christmas!”

  Tira gave Baz a baleful look, eying the present suspiciously. “What’s that?”

  He had to laugh at her attitude. She was a smart girl. “It’s a present, from me to you.”

  She sat up, taking it from him. It wasn’t in a box, was maybe a little more than a foot long, and not too heavy. It could have been almost anything. But still she was cautious, staring at it where it lay in her lap as if she thought it was going to bite her.

  Baz crouched down next to the sofa. “Well, open it.”

  “But it’s only Christmas Eve,” she pointed out somewhat hopefully.

  “Yeah, but this one is okay to open early.”

  She looked from him to the present and then back a couple of times. “Do I have to?”

  Not doing a very good job suppressing a smile at her obvious reluctance, Baz nodded. “Yes, you do.”

  She did as he asked, however tentatively.

  And, of course, it was something she didn’t really want – a replacement for the spatula that had come to an untimely death by, somehow, falling into the trash bin. On trash day. Just before it got collected.

  Only this one looked much more lethal. The other was bad enough, wooden and smallish, maybe eight inches in total, with a head that was about three by two. This one was much longer, with a much larger head that had holes drilled in it, and she couldn’t imagine what those were for.

  “This is because the other one got… lost?” she said carefully.

  “Yes,” he answered, with just enough doubt in his tone to make her nervous.

  “But the holes kind of defeat the purpose, don’t they?”

  As he stood and helped her up, turning her around and bending her over so that her hands were on the warm cushion she had been sitting on, she realized that she was about to find out what they were for as her comfy sweats, and then her panties, hit the floor by her ankles.

  “That rather depends on its purpose. You’d be right if this was something meant to cook with.”

  She squeaked indignantly at that.

  “The holes cut down on wind resistance, which increases the sting of each swat,” he answered, matter of factly, proceeding to demonstrate that principle on her.

  It was much, much worse than the one she’d thrown away. That had been a baby implement. And this was its angry father.

  She was wholly unable to keep herself either from yelping loudly or dancing frantically in place each time that unyielding stiff, hard head connected with flesh that was trying to yield to it, but ended up red and inflamed instead. He only gave her about twelve smacks, but they were more than enough to make her thoroughly regret, again, having disappeared the other one.

  When he stopped, Baz held her in his arms, patting her back and hugging her to him, but he never rubbed her bottom, nor did he allow her to. Otherwise, he said, why had he bothered to spank her at all?

  Afterwards, they spent a lazy evening together, but every once in a while – and she never knew when – she’d find herself over his lap, or bent over the back of the couch, or the somewhat suspect dining room table, or the kitchen counter, on the receiving end of that spatula. He never gave her more than twelve or fifteen or so swats, but the condition of her poor bum got considerably worse with every round.

  Every time, once he was finished, he would reach between legs that he had already required she keep spread to assess the punishment’s effect on her, deliberately handling her roughly, rooting his fingers around in that delicate flesh, making her gasp and cry out for a very different reason than she had been seconds earlier. The fingers that weren’t violating her always somehow managing to feather over her clit as he was examining her.

  Then he’d hold her again and pet and soothe her as she cried on his shoulder until she’d calmed down some, always affectionate and loving with her, and they’d return to what they were doing – playing Scrabble, reading actual books and playing cards.

  He was driving her crazy.

  Dinner wasn’t the elaborate feast they had all planned via group texts and emails, but he’d brought booze, of course, and, they did indulge in the perishable foods they’d brought first, so they were eating very nutritionally – thick slices of the homemade fruitcake she’d made from her grandmother’s recipe and which had been soaked in brandy for a month or so, puppy chow snack mix, and thirty-year-old Scotch.

  Baz was careful not to give Tira too much liquor. She could get sleepy from it ea
sily, and he had plans for her. So he only gave her about three fingers of the stuff, which had her protesting loudly that he was bogarting the good stuff.

  He whipped around from where he was arranging what eventually would be their bed on the floor. He had hauled in, first, the mattress from the queen sized bed from the master bedroom and then all of the bedclothes, to place them in front of the fire – although not too close. The look he gave her made her clamp her mouth shut and regret her complaint.

  He didn’t have to say a thing. He could make her bottom throb with just a look.

  Then he went back to making them a nice cozy nest, rising once he was done to go stand at the end of the couch. “Come here, little miss.”

  By the time she got herself there, putting her hands behind her back as he preferred, he was already waiting for her, all eight thick, hard, veiny inches of him. She was at the perfect height to take him easily into her mouth. She relaxed around him in a move that he could feel in all the right places as she took him down to the very root, pressing her nose into his belly and pulling a deep, almost agonized groan from the back of his throat.

  Making him groan in pleasure was something that got her incredibly hot and gave her a tremendous feeling of accomplishment, because, although he was a very verbal man, he wasn’t so much so in bed. He didn’t demand this of her very often, which had surprised her at first; she was certainly perfectly willing to do it any time he wanted it. It was as if it was almost too much for him, and he saved it for very special occasions.

  And she loved every second of it when he let her do it.

  In submitting to him, she had surrendered a lot of power to him, not that she regretted it in the least, she didn’t. But this was something she could do that took a bit of that back, although granted, he controlled her throughout.

  Tira could feel him trying to hold himself back from the moment the smooth head of his penis glided easily into her mouth, as he held her head still to receive him. Her lips and tongue welcomed him, sucking greedily and cupping her tongue around his length as he pumped steadily into her, a hand in the hair at the back of her neck so that she couldn’t move away from him.