A visit to a naughty girl

(With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore. And Beatrix Potter. And all other authors!)

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro’ the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse...
...but, look! A little girl, climbing down from her bed!
With naughty little thoughts running through her blonde head.

Penny crept out of bed as quietly as she could; she knew she would be in terrible trouble if Daddy heard her. All was silent and dark in her room, for it was midnight on the most magical night of the year... Christmas Eve.

She should of course have been sleeping, like all the other girls and boys, but an impulse had gripped her imagination. She wanted to see Santa. So what if it was naughty to want that? She was sure Santa wouldn’t mind when he saw her happy little face.

She slipped her dressing gown on and tiptoed across her bedroom, then across the landing and down the stairs, being as careful and stealthy as a cat.

Cre-eak! went a step under her foot, halfway down the stairs. Oh, stupid step!

She breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Daddy didn’t emerge from his room. She carried on down the rest of the stairs, being extra-double-careful and stealthy.

Once downstairs she skipped with glee. She was going to see Santa! The real one! With the reindeer and the presents! She was sure he would think her the sweetest girl in the world, and maybe – she guiltily thought to herself – he would give her an extra gift for being so cute. Smiling with such happy thoughts she bounced onto an armchair and curled up to wait for her magical visitor.

*****

Some time later, she was startled by a sudden sound: she realised she must have drifted off to sleep while waiting. The noise was coming from the chimney – it had to be Santa!

Suddenly not so sure of his approval of her being awake, she determined to hide. She looked about herself, fixed upon a spot beneath the dining table, and scooted there as quick as a rabbit.

A few moments later, her curiosity too strong to resist, she peeked out from her shady hiding place. Despite her best efforts to stay silent she gasped in wonder as, sure enough, the portly red figure of Santa emerged from the fireplace, big black boots first.

Her gasp hadn’t been especially loud but it had been enough. Her little heart leapt into her mouth as Santa turned to her hiding place... then paced toward it... then bent down and looked straight at her, a displeased expression on his bearded, saintly face.

“And what, young lady, are you doing out of bed?” he demanded.

Thoroughly discovered, Penny gulped and sheepishly crept out from under the table, her little face glowing as crimson as Santa’s coat.

“I... I wanted to see you...” she whimpered into her chest.

Santa made an ominous harrumphing sound and pulled a roll of parchment from his pocket. “Ah yes,” he said. “Penelope... Hasler. Oh, yes indeed. You know, I don’t think you would have stayed up to see me if you knew what I had in store for you!”

Penny’s tummy sank with an all-too-familiar feeling. The feeling that she got when she was in for a spanking. Yet the sight of Santa’s sack of toys in the corner of her eye gave her one last flicker of hope. She looked up at him with her most appealing, wide-eyed expression. “Is it... a new doll?” she ventured with a timid little smile.

Santa laughed. “Ho ho, no! Oh, that’s a good one!”

Penny frowned in disappointment. And then she wailed as she was grasped firmly by the wrist and dragged across the lounge to the armchair she had sat curled up in not five minutes before.

“It’s not a doll you’re getting, my girl!” Santa boomed. “You have been bad all year long – the number of entries you have on my naughty list bears sad testimony to that – and tonight’s indiscretion is just the icing on the cake!”

And in the blink of a reindeer’s eye poor Penny lay helpless across Santa’s lap, her sky-blue nightdress up round her waist, her childish pink panties down round her knees. And then her little bare bottom bounced and squirmed under Santa’s hard hand as he set about slapping a much-needed lesson into her.

“Naughty girls get spankings!” he scolded, proving his point with emphatic (and painful) zeal. “And you have to be about the naughtiest little girl I’ve ever known!”

“Ooh! Ow! Owch!” Penny squealed, her slippered feet kicking, her blonde mane bucking, her little face a deeply flushed picture of sorrow. “I... I’m sor-ry!”

And she was sorry. Very sorry indeed. Santa spanked very hard, and long before he had finished poor Penny bawled in pain and sorrow, certain she could take no more. She was sorry the entire hour she spent standing in the corner, her little red bottom glowing in the night-time darkness. She was sorry as she lay in bed, sucking her thumb and rubbing the soreness away.

And she was sorry the next morning when she woke to find nothing but a note in her little red stocking.

Dear Daddy,

Penny has been very naughty this year and so I have spanked her and left her no gifts. I strongly urge you to spank her again today and send her to bed early.

Yours, Santa.

Poor, silly Penny. She had promised Santa that she would be good – “the bestest little girl ever!” – as he had expertly roasted her rear, and she would promise her Daddy the same when she was turned over his knee for a second, equally-thorough, Christmas Day spanking. And during each ordeal she cried just as pitifully as the ‘real tears’ doll she had set her heart on receiving, her little heart breaking with remorse...

...yet come December 26 she would be just as naughty as ever!

So as poor Penny sobs, her behind burning bright –
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Have a great time, everyone :D