Alex was miserable. Lonely too. Despite the gut-wrenching turmoil Christmas carols wrought on her psyche, she couldn’t stop
listening wallowing to them. An entire year had somehow slipped past since the disastrous dinner with Chad. Expecting a ring in her stocking, instead she’d gotten the old heave-ho and we can still be friends speech.
So here it was, Christmas Eve, and where once there would have been a festive tree, presents and friends toasting, now there were empty vodka bottles, pizza boxes and take-out containers. Alex was no longer a hot mess, just a mess.
The sonorous ding-dong of the doorbell jolted her awake. Hungover, bleary-eyed and feeling greasy from days without bathing, Alex stumbled to the front door, unlatched the chain, bolt and lock and recklessly turned the knob.
“Yeah? What do you want?”
“Are you Alex Powell?”
“Who wants to know?”
The man – although Alex wasn’t too sure that was accurate – held up a laminated badge to her bloodshot eyes.
“My name is Fohsallire Elotriskan – that’s what it sounded like – and I’m with Santas.”
Alex clung to the tilted entryway. “Funny, you don’t look like a Santa. Where’s your costume and hat?”
She muttered, “I told the landlord the apartment isn’t level.”
“Not Santas, S.A.N.T.A.S.: spankings accrued naughty transgression adjustment squad.”
All she could say was, “Huh?” before there was a flurry of sparkling multi-colored flakes around her face.
When she regained her senses, she was in her bed, the sheets were clean, her body didn’t reek and she was no longer wearing ratty sweats, but a lacy red negligee. She bolted upright and yelped when she saw the man with the iPad sitting on the end of the bed.
Amazingly, Alex’s head was clear and she felt great. “Who are you again?”
“I’m Forrester Erikson at your service.” He tapped the tablet and said, “You submitted a questionnaire on Santa’s website in which you described your current situation. The pathos moved the Big Guy – who knows why – so you were selected to receive the deluxe S.A.N.T.A.S. treatment. Is that clear enough for you, Alex?”
“Clear as mud, Gump. What the hell is a Santa treatment?”
“Very simple concept, my dear. If you would be so kind as to join me in your living room, I will show you.” He bowed and left.
Alex threw on a cashmere robe and hastened out of her bedroom. Her mouth dropped open in shock. The room was pristine. A large fir tree sat in one corner decorated with lights and ornaments. Presents spilled forth around the skirt. Candles flickered and the scent of cinnamon filled the apartment.
“You are hosting your annual holiday party in two hours, Alex. If this meets your requirements listed in your missive, then in order to claim it, you need only receive the S.A.N.T.A.S. treatment. If not…” He snapped his fingers and scene instantly reverted to the filthy, stinking room it once was.
Alex clutched her head and stomach as the hangover rushed back in.
The festive view returned as did her equilibrium.
“Do I need to demonstrate again?” Forrester asked with poised fingers.
“No! No, that’s fine, I get the point.” Alex slumped on the couch. “Do you mind explaining what it is you want from me?”
“Ah, we don’t want anything from you, we want to give you the gift of a do-over. All you need to do is sign the form and receive your gift. Then all of this,” he waved at the tree, “is yours.”
“And the gift is…?”
“A spanking of course, Alex, for all the transgressions you’ve accrued since Chad dumped you.”
Alex put her head in her hands. “I thought that’s what you said earlier.”
“It’s only a short spanking, Alex, one-time only.”
She crossed her arms. “And how long is the offer good for?”
Forrester grimaced. “About one more minute I’m afraid. I have several more stops, so a simple yes or no will suffice.”
“I can’t believe it got so bad,” she muttered. “OK, where do I sign?”
“Is that a yes, Alex?”
“Yes, it’s a yes, Forrester, yes to the spanking,” she snapped. “Do you have to be so smug about it?”
“Not smug, Alex, I take no pleasure in spanking I’ll have you know.”
“Well, maybe a little.”
She signed the tablet on all the appropriate pages and then, with bare bottom uppermost, lay over Forrester’s lap.
His iPad starting playing ‘Jingle Bells’. Over the soft pops of leather meeting flesh he explained, “There are ten carols on Alex’s playlist. I will spank you in time to the music. Feel free to sing along.”
Alex did indeed sing along to ‘Jingle Bells’, ‘We Three Kings’, ‘Little Drummer Boy’ and all the rest. Her constant – ouch, ouch, ouch – added a certain je ne sais quoi to the happy tunes as her bottom received the long overdue attention it deserved. By the time it was over, her bottom was a festive candy cane red from top to tip. Forrester provided her with a box of tissues and a copy of the contract sent to her email.
“Merry Christmas, Alex,” were his final words as he placed the leather paddle among the ornaments.
The party was a roaring success, her friends, if they noticed she couldn’t sit down, didn’t say anything about the short leather paddle hanging on the tree. Best of all, the gift from S.A.N.T.A.S. even included a brand new beau, who as it turned out, thought Alex would enjoy a good spanking on their first date as the clock ticked away into the New Year.
He was right and they lived happily ever after.
So that is the tale, boys and girls, of how Alex found herself over the knee of Forrester with the pointed ears, receiving her present for being naughty all year long.