By Tenth Muse Top
Continued from Part III
Felicity made her trembly way along the corridor and back down the flights of stairs. What am I doing? I’m mad! Maybe this is a bad dream and I will wake up. Maybe, it won’t hurt as much as her ‘good strong hand’ did on my poor sore bottom.
She opened the door of the little snug room, still lit by the oil lamp. The paddle glistened on the mantle shelf and the sight of it sent a new frisson of trembles throughout her frightened body.
Tremulously, she reached out with her fingertips, feeling the highly polished smoothness slide under her touch. She picked it up, surprised at the fine feel of its slim blade. It was not light, but it was not exactly heavy either and it was long enough to pack a frightening, stinging swat. I really am mad. I actually asked her for this.
Remembering Tilly and Meili Honeysett, she put the paddle down again, thinking to send for them immediately. It would mean trouble…but maybe there was enough magic in the air to sooth the troubled waters with the Committee. If not…well… she would at least go out on the right note. The matron manager picked up the Rewards and Punishments Log, found today’s page and stared at it – utterly disbelieving.
Where had the entries gone? The entries that, not so long ago, Santa had read out loud, were no longer there! There was no expulsion order, no transport request, no stamped discharge papers. If the book was to be believed, all three Honeysett girls were upstairs in bed, just as they had been every night since they arrived.
As she read, new — terrible — words materialised on the page in embarrassing red ink.
“Dec 24th. Numerous offences. Felicity J. Kavanagh spanked over the knee twice by Santa Claus. On her bare bottom.”
In blind panic, Felicity raced up the stairs to Attic room 4b.
She arrived to find Santa lowering Meili into her bed and watched her pull the covers around the child’s shoulders with tender care. Tilly already occupied the third mattress.
“Santa!” For the second time that night, Felicity wept. “You did it! You got them back!”
Santa smoothed a hair away from Meili’s face. “It is what you wanted, yes?”
“Yes! Oh yes – thank you!!! But, will they remember what happened? What I did? I mean, how will I explain it to them!?”
“Do you want them to remember?”
“Well yes I do! You see, then they will know that I have changed. That I am a better person now and they will appreciate me more!”
Santa looked at her, her head on one side. “I’m not so sure you want that. You can’t just stab someone in the heart one day an’ ask them to admire the hilt of the pretty dagger you used to do it the next, you know.”
Seeing Felicity’s confused face, she elaborated, “The dagger is your power…so you have chosen, after all, to use it differently tonight, but what they would remember is all of it. They don’t need that, only you do. You will remember and that is enough.”
The girls were settled comfortably in their beds, their memories of the last 24 hours now containing a stern admonishment from Matron. “You are all very naughty little girls, but now I know what, or I should say, who you wanted the money for, I understand that you were being kind. You are extremely lucky it is Christmas Eve, because on Christmas Eve, the Spirit of Loving Kindness is at its strongest, as is forgiveness and so I forgive you for stealing and lock-picking and lying and such…In return, I want you to PROMISE to always talk to me about things like this in the future! Do you promise me that?”
In their new memories, each Honeysett girl had given their solemn word.
From her deep red pocket, Santa Claus produced a packet of chocolate-covered chocolate-chip cookies and, as she placed one on each pillow, she said to Felicity, “Child, do you actually know what a cookie is for?”
“Rule 93: A cookie is to provide sustenance and/or energy, with a hot drink, at times scheduled for that purpose.”
Santa took a big bite out of one and said as she chewed. “No, the purpose of a cookie is pleasure, pure pleasure and nothin’ but pleasure. Your cookies were foul an’ disgustin’! I hope there will be no more of them here, ever again!!! Try a good one.” She offered Felicity a cookie.
The Matron Manager was tempted. Her mouth watered at the sight of it, but she hesitated.
“I don’t think I deserve one.”
“Ah. Perhaps not then.” Santa looked at the matron’s empty hands. “Did you forget somethin’?”
Startled, Felicity remembered the paddle and the awful entry in the Rewards and Punishments Log Book. “I’m sorry — I saw the Log book! Santa!” Her face was a picture, “What you wrote about me!”
Santa grinned at her mischievously, “Just my sense of humour. Did you not want your spankin’s recorded in the Book, then? For your posterior’s posterity?” She chuckled.
Santa laughed. “Well alright then.” She waggled her fingers. “Now, little Miss Kavanagh, go an’ fetch my paddle, please.”
This time, the journey back up the stairs took an age, or seemed to. The ebony wood paddle tingled in her hand, vibrant with potential. Likewise, her body was alert with adrenalin, urging her to run away, but her dogged stride carried her ever upwards, while her bottom, having apparently developed an awareness all of its own, prickled against the fabric of her underwear. Pretty soon it was going to be bared again….pretty soon…Oh god…damn…
She thought about the triplets and about the world Santa had shown her. She felt the eternal patience of the woman, her kindness and the gift of her name: a gift that she did not have to give. What was coming was going to be difficult and painful, but Felicity believed it could help her be better and she wanted that. To be a better person.
In the quiet house, she passed dormitories of sleeping children. At least all were safe. She wanted more than this for them though, she wanted this Christmas to be the best ever at the Orphanage and when the world returned to normal again, she was going to make that happen. It would be the beginning of a new era at the Council State Orphanage.
At the end of the corridor, the little attic room door stood ajar. Inside, the woman known as Vestah Jones patiently waited. Probably, she was already seated on one of the stools.
Felicity crept down the corridor and remembered Vestah’s words from the Parlour earlier.
“Do you want to present yourself properly for this, or are you goin’ to require some assistance?”
She knocked quietly on the door.
“Come in, Felicity!”
She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Vestah was indeed sitting on a stool, her black jodhpurs arranged for her comfort, her sleeves rolled up. Felicity saw the vast compassion in Santa’s eyes and took a step towards her.
“Here is your paddle, Santa… Ma’am.” She held it the way that Santa had in the snug room: balanced across both hands and offered it to her mentor.
“Thank you.” Vestah took it. “And so… Are you goin’ to present yourself properly for this, or will you require some assistance?”
Humbly, Felicity reached under her nightdress, lowering her knickers to a little way above her knees. She shuffled forward a step and then bent down to pull up the hem of the night dress until her legs and bottom were uncovered.
“Very good.” Vestah put out a hand to help her as the young woman lowered herself over her knees. “Very good, Felicity Kavanagh. Let me get you settled and then we shall begin.”
Felicity did not know how long she spent over Santa’s knee. All she knew was that this spanking had seemed timeless. When she thought about it later, she could feel the strong thighs under her body and the steadying hand on her back, as though she were still there, suspended across Vestah’s lap, willingly helpless.
Surprisingly, she had been both more relaxed this time and more attentive, wanting instinctively to obey the strictures of the procedure. Whereas before, she had fought and kicked, this time she was submissive and obedient. Remembering this was a revelation to her. Her bottom had lifted to receive each stroke and she had held it there, consciously, as the stinging barrage of swats had landed again and again. As the crack of them had echoed around the room and made her flinch away and whimper, she had done her best to obey. If she failed in her resolve, if the spanking overwhelmed her, she raised herself again, inviting its return and thanking Santa for the break, in order to allow her to do so.
Whereas before, the very idea of her exposure had offended her, this time, her nudity was comforting. Was akin to something like the answer to a prayer.
She had breathed into the spanking, remembering her mistakes while listening to Vestah Jones as she relentlessly talked her through them. She had finally recognised, and then loved, the rapport and intimacy of this very particular interaction, and in it she felt uniquely special and deeply understood.
The paddle rang sharply, its touch articulate, bright, painful and welcome. She had breathed, too, through the silences as the spanking began to build to a crescendo, which eventually would consume her completely. Each swat layering onto the previous one. Each jolting, burning spank, branding into her being a desire to do better, to be better. To never get it wrong again. At some point, each swat had been met with a responding cry from her and in the timeless suspension of the spanking’s perfect rhythm, she had cried out her total release from the past. She had cried and she had felt the flood of relief as she had let go. When she finally come back to her senses, held by Vestah, soothed by her soft strokes, she felt reborn.
Vestah had carried her through the dark house to her room and lowered her into her bed, carefully pulling up the bedcovers. “Sleep now, Child. All will be well.”
She had felt lips brush her forehead and as sleep claimed her, was half-aware of a chocolate-covered chocolate chip cookie being placed on her pillow.
In her dreams, a breeze of warmth and colour blew through the Orphanage and a deep, resonant voice chuckled as she went about her business. Sleigh bells jingled magic and all the stockings were filled to the brim. All twenty-four of them – for a new stocking had appeared addressed to “Dear Matron, Merry Christmas! Love from, Santa Claus.” She heard reindeer dancing on the roof, their hooves scattering magic across the town, their songs sinking and becoming a big pile of cardboard boxes filled with books and toys and paint to transform the attic room into a wonderful communal area for the children.
She saw Tommy Tinklelee covered in magic dust, leaping out of bed in excitement.
Felicity woke up.
That was real! Tommy is out of bed again!
She leapt out of bed to catch him.
Tommy Tinklelee was having a very funny dream. Or at least he thought it was a dream, but then his eyes were open and the dream was still happening. In his dream, he heard a delightful tinkling sound and got out of bed to go and investigate.
There were footsteps in the hallway, and a jingle of bells so silvery, it made him giggle. He stepped towards the door, careful not to wake the other children. A floorboard creaked and squeaked and the bells in the hallway stopped.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” A deep, lovely, laughing voice filled him full of joy.
“It’s Santa!” He couldn’t believe it. “Hey! Wake up! It’s Santa Claus! Santa Claus is here!”
Running to the door, Tommy Tinklelee wrenched it open and dashed out into the corridor. There was a red figure at the end of the hallway — just disappearing round the corner — and it was jingling and it was covered in sparkles and it was laughing happily!
Tommy ran as fast as he could, but when he rounded the corner, in front of him there was only a trail of magic dust lighting his way all the way down to the parlour.
Except the parlour was now like a different place. It was like a dream palace!
He heard footsteps behind him.
Matron stood in the doorway.
“Matron! Santa has been! Look at all the presents! Look! There’s a Christmas tree and everything!”
Felicity sank down and hugged the boy, scooping him up in her arms. She looked across the room to the chair where Greymalkin sat, watching them both.
“I know,” she said, as much to the cat as to Tommy, “It’s magic.”
Greymalkin purred. “You can sayyy that again!”
The Sleigh flew across the sky, a shooting star of colour, a shiver of silvery bells.
Santa laughed happily to herself. Spreading good cheer was not as easy as some might think. It was, in fact, hard work, but it was oh so rewarding. For on this night of nights, Santa Claus had sown seeds which would spread love, compassion and, yes, good cheer for years to come.
It wasn’t so bad, after all, this job of hers.
“Santa?” Asked Rudi.
“Did you know the Elf and Safety Committee tried to arrest the Easter Bunny?”
“Yes, way! They accused her of trying to kill off humanity by feeding them sugar!”
“That’s insane! What happened?”
Rudolph rolled his eyes comically and flashed his nose a tender red, for illustrative purposes.
“Well she is a rabbit, first — and rabbits pack a hell of a kick in their personal armoury! I wouldn’t mess with her!” He winced. “Let’s just say, the Elves sat in the snow a lot after she expressed herself! It was a right balls up! Hee hee hee! After that, the committee met again and issued an apology ….for what they called an administrative error. They held that they had not meant to blame the Easter Bunny for anything!”
“She might be fluffy…” began Vixen…”Yet, unlike the elves…”
“…she’s a tough nut to crack!” shouted the reindeer.
“Cashhh-ew!” “That old chestnut!”
Vestah Jones laughed. Perhaps a visit to Elvira and her (very, very large) family would be fun.
If anyone could help her kick all these committees into touch, it would be the Easter Bunny.
She hummed happily and headed the reindeer back home.
Dr Emily Mathis rubbed her butt. It had been an odd day in the ER. Working Christmas was always surreal and yet…well there was that dream. She blushed. Had she really spent all night dreaming about a sexy Santa, her beautiful hands and her magnificent palm? She wouldn’t have believed it, being more of an alpha type, it was hardly her thing, except every time she had taken a break and tried to sit, she had stood right back up again.
She looked at the notes just handed to her by the junior doctor. Small wound to right elbow caused by rusty nail. Cleaned and dressed wound. No stitches required. Inoculate as a precaution.
Thus armed, she pulled back the curtain to see her next patient.
“Ms Kavanagh, I am Dr Mathis. I gather you would like a female doctor to give you your tetanus shot?”
Felicity Kavanagh gulped.
“Yes.” She squeaked.
“Well alright then. Just drop your pants and turn over for me and call me when you are ready. ”
She stepped back outside, making a note of the time of the treatment on her clipboard.
A nervous, trembly voice broke her focus.
Dr Mathis ducked inside the cubicle and rolled her eyes.
“That’s good, as far as it goes, Ms Kavanagh, but we are gonna have to lose the briefs as well.”
She busied herself preparing the injection, ripping open a syringe packet to lay its contents in the metal tray.
Felicity had buried her head in the pillow. When she spoke, her voice was muffled.
“Couldn’t you just inject around them?’
“I’m sorry, No.” She measured the liquid carefully.
“Again, my apologies. No.”
There was no movement on the bed. Dr Mathis shook her head. There’s shy and there’s painfully shy, I guess.
“Look, come on. It’s not like I haven’t seen a million bottoms already.”
Her patient fidgeted and moaned into the pillow, but said nothing comprehensible.
Emily placed the syringe back into the tray.
“Would you like me to… Would you mind if I just helped you out here? I can lower your briefs for you.”
“Is that a yes?”
As professionally as she could, Emily gently took hold of the elastic waistband and lowered the young woman’s briefs.
She blinked in surprise.
“Don’t say anything! Alright!?”
Felicity Kavanaghs buttocks were bright red. Evenly glowing from the top of her fleshy cheeks all the way… she pulled the undergarments lower to check… all the way to the tops of her burning red thighs!
She knew this feeling: her own bottom and thighs seemed to burn anew at the sight of her patient’s behind. Yet professional concern took over.
“I apologise, Ms Kavanagh, but I have to ask. How did this happen?”
“I woke up like this!”
“You woke up like this.”
“I woke UP like this!”
“You…Okay.” She placed a gentle hand on the burning bottom. “I think I …er…understand.” She coughed. “I happen to have some cold cream, if it–”
“No.” The voice was stronger…”I uh… deserved it. I’m just gonna…um..”
Emily smiled “…sit with it.”
“Okay.” She half laughed to herself and smoothed the cheeks gently. “So, I am going to give you the injection now. I’ll be careful, so as not to hurt you, alright?”
Cool cotton wool cleansed a spot on Felicity’s right cheek.
“Just a little…”
Felicity hardly felt the needle before the cool cotton wool was soothing her again. She felt a hand on her lower back, calm and reassuring.
“There, that’s done.”
Dr. Emily Mathis experienced a tingling sensation, but this time in her own heart. Normally, her honed medical detachment would overrule this feeling and she would go about her day without a second thought. Today, however, Christmas Day, was a different day altogether. There was magic still crackling in the air and Emily could not help but risk speaking the thought out loud.
“This dream of yours. Do you think it might require a follow up?”
A palm lightly brushed the plump cheek. Felicity shivered, her heart racing.
“Well… you did say that you felt you deserved this. Which suggests that — unless you are a really good student — you may require further …treatment. Would I be wrong in thinking that you might need this attention sooner than 365 days from now? It is a very long time to wait, Ms Kavanagh. Whereas, I might be just the woman to assist you as soon as it becomes necessary. What do you say… Should I include my personal card in your hospital discharge package?”
Felicity coughed. “–kay!”
Dr Mathis frowned slightly, her palm resting heavier on Felicity’s buttock.
Felicity cleared her throat.
“Please? Oh…” Realisation dawned.
Slowly Felicity raised herself onto her elbows and looked over her shoulder. Dr Mathis was aware of the frankness in the dark eyes and of the faintest of smiles. She smiled back, her hand still resting on Felicity’s buttock.
“I meant,” Felicity’s eyes held something softer.
“Yes, Ma’am. Please include your card. I think I might be very grateful for your assistance.”
I love, love, loved this! Kind of a spin on A Christmas Carol and much more! What a wonderful start to Christmas Day!
Thank you TMT. Merry Christmas!
Hello Claire! A belated Merry Christmas to you too! 🙂 I hope it was full of festive cheer and much happy roasting by the firelight.
Thanks for your comment- you gave me a festive smile of my own! 🙂
Gosh what a special gift. From the word go I was held by this story as it unfolded. I agree with Claire, an alternative view of A Christmas Carol. It was an absolute pleasure to read and enjoy. Thank you TMT for sharing your special talent. Happy New Year!
A Very Happy New Year to you too!
That’s a very flattering comparison, thank you! I suppose I was exposed to a lot of Dickens growing up, so it must have rubbed off and in a good way! 🙂
Thanks for the Christmas story, TMT. I loved the Christmas theme – it was like reading a classic Christmas story with a fun, spanky twist. I really enjoyed it. It’s always a treat to read your stories TMT, thanks again for the gift! 🙂
My pleasure, Beck! I’m glad you enjoyed the spanky-uh I mean- classic elements in the story! Thank you for the feedback. It always makes a writer feel good to know their stories are enjoyed. 🙂
I read this a few years ago and just re-read it. It just reminds me how EXQUISITE TMT’s writing is! Like all her stories, I was pulled in to experience seeing, hearing, touching, etc. with the characters. Alyx was right calling it a “Xmas classic”!!! Thanks so much for this special treat and hope to read more stories from TMT. Happy new year!
Hey Peachie – A Happy and rosy-cheeked New Year to you!!!
That touchy-feely sensory thing is something I obsess over when I’m writing, so I love it that you enjoyed it too. Thank you for the comment. 🙂
Ah, TMT, I am familiar with this story, you know that. But in preparing this for posting, I had to re-familiarize myself with it, and was swept away by the magic of it all. The picture you paint of Santa, sleigh pulled by cheetahs, captured my imagination. And the rooftop scenes with those rollicking reindeer…*LOL* — the loony-ness is so deliciously you! Thank you very much for this gift, and making Xmas extra special at a time when you were dealing with so much. 🙂
And thank you, my friend, for posting it. As I reread the story, I remembered that it is also a meditation on kindness and that’s so timely, personally. You alluded (discreetly as ever 🙂 ) to my recent bereavement and, as the world charges into a new year bristling with problems, it is kindness which on a tiny scale makes the passing of a loved one bearable. Reading the comments has given me a genuinely happy pause and welcome distraction so thank you for your kindness in reposting the story.
Of course, as soon as my RL jobs are all done, I’m right there with the reindeer on the roof: rolling myself the biggest spliff ever and cracking out shamefully bad puns!
Thank you TMT for sharing this wonderful Christmas saga. I love it, its so full of magic, unique imagination and beautiful meaning! Really skilfully written and bring out so many feelings. Hope you had a lovely Christmas and that your coming year will be great!
Thank you for your good wishes, Robin, they are much appreciated! I love your feedback, it’s very heartfelt and so I’m all warm in my heart too. 🙂 ‘Let Nothing…’ was a story which, though I had clear ‘pillars of intent’ to structure it around, headed off resolutely in its own direction too, so it’s fab that people love it. Thanks again! 🙂