3. Time to make her purr. And beg. And scream

KRAMPUS

H unger courses through my veins as I massage the heated flesh of her fine rump, grinning at how she wriggles her ass, lifting those hips off my lap. Oh, how she awakens the beast in me.

“I could have lost you,” I growl at my kjaere, landing harder strikes, punishing her for getting lost and putting herself in danger, for forcing us into a cold, gods-forsaken lodge during a howling winter storm, and for ruining my Christmas Eve surprise waiting for her back at Krampus Palace.

I keep her here—in this whimpering vulnerable state—for some time. Her curls begin to dry, turning to chaotic tangles, shimmering like gold from the firelight. Whenever her lovely bottom grows pink, I spank her again, swelling her skin to the Christmas stocking red I desire.

Dark, depraved lust swarms my senses, consuming my nerve endings. A shared lust. Because her breathing has slowed, her skin has heated, and she floats somewhere on endorphins from my punishment and her little brush with death.

When I sense her pussy muscles clenching from beneath the palm I’ve settled on her flaring buttocks, I chuckle darkly. All it takes is one sweep of my finger along her nether lips for her arousal to trickle from her slit.

“Lift your fine rumpa, min Twyla,” I command but don’t loosen my grip on her hair.

I crook my mouth to one side as she moans through her obedience, raising her hips off my lap until her inflamed, ample backside is poised and trembling beneath my chin. Head bowed, back curved like a little cat. My little cat in heat.

Time to make her purr. And beg. And scream.

“Oh, jingle jangle shit balls!” she squeals as I spear my tongue through the seam between her cheeks and tickle the tip around the puckered, pink little star of her anus.

A throaty deep groan vibrates in my hot chest. Fucking love how she shudders, how those sweet hips bounce from my tongue stroking her dark hole. The first time I’ve done this. Because I’ve spent the past year getting to know her tight little pussy as intimately and soulfully as possible. Instead, I’ve spent a year training her ass, stretching it with countless plugs. Tonight, I’d fully intended to take her ass, treating her to a one-year anniversary gift.

Her juices slick her coral-pink folds, which swell from her desire. She’s drunk with it as I eat her hot, little bottom, loving the soft, silken globes hugging my tongue and the ripe muscles firming from her exertion. Her breath turns to deep, inhaling drags, and her pussy pulses with how close she is.

At that moment, I stab my tongue through her puckered dark hole.

“Oh, sweet, Tannenbaum tongue!” she cries out, and I chortle at the new little phrase, wondering if she practiced it for me.

Her breasts swing from her bouncing hips, the nipples growing swollen and hard as ripe holly berries. She squeezes those cheeks and moans long and slow, close to her peak. Just as she soars to reach for it, I split my long tongue into waggling ribbons to stimulate her inside and cup her mound, feeling those puffy pussy lips, their plump heaviness, the perfect pink roundness. Her cunt convulses like a desperate gasping mouth. Her whole body shudders.

“Krampus!” she squeals, an inch from her climax.

I retrieve my tongue, denying her fulfillment.

“Noohnonoohnooooooo!” she whines, her hips dropping onto my lap, her pussy dastardly grinding for friction.

I unleash my demon upon her ass, burning the already red flesh until it’s cooked like a medium-rare partridge. A sharp contrast to the fierce wind raging outside, its eerie howls haunting the night. Snow and ice cover all the windows. But the fire burns on like my wife’s passionate heart…and her pretty red bottom.

By the time I’m done with her, she’s properly cowed. Not one speck of flesh betraying pink where it should be red. She’s squirmed and cried and begged through it all. And finally, she turns her head, those teary amber eyes full of warmth and remorse.

“I’m so sorry, Krampus,” she finally whimpers.

At last…I give her lovely red bottom a soft caress, then lift her until she’s sitting on my lap with her thick, ripe thighs on either side of my waist. With her sweet apology echoing in my mind, I lower my head and capture my wife’s mouth in a forgiving kiss. But forgiveness does not mean the discipline disappears.

In this state, I cannot fuck her. Not without my power replenishing. Only one way to do that. And it may require the entire night.