I woke up the next morning feeling lighter and freer than I ever remember feeling. I was very surprised to find that my bottom was still a bit sore and tender to the touch as I shifted in bed, but the memory of the spanking put a smile on my face. Yawning, I sat up and stretched, wondering what the day had in store. Yesterday had been full of surprises, and I found myself excited to see what my Santa Daddy would come up with next. I quickly dressed and pulled my hair into a ponytail. The smell of cinnamon permeated the air, and I let my nose and growling stomach lead me to the source.
“Oh my God. I’m going to weigh a thousand pounds if you keep feeding me like this,” I groaned when I caught sight of the heaping tray of fresh cinnamon rolls.
Santa smiled. “You could use a little meat on those bones.”
I shook my head, wondering how early he had risen to bake, or if he had conjured these up with a snap of his fingers. “Do you even sleep?”
“Sure I do. I don’t need many hours, especially this time of year when there is so much to be done. Did you sleep well, little elf?”
I felt a pang of guilt that I was keeping him from his work, but then I reminded myself that the weekend was his idea not mine.
“My father is overseeing my duties right now, little elf. It’s tradition for the first year.”
“Get out of my head,” I muttered, sitting down at the table.
“I can’t help it.” Santa chuckled. “Your brain is an interesting place to be.”
“Didn’t your mom ever tell you it was rude to spy on people like that? It’s a total invasion of privacy.” I was half kidding. I mean, it was kind of strange to think he heard every one of my innermost thoughts, but what could I do about it?
He chuckled, and I belatedly realized that every time he laughed it sounded more like “ho ho ho.” It was unreal. “No, she hasn’t had the chance. It’s kind of a new thing, a perk to the Santa gig,” he said with a wink, setting a frosted cinnamon bun on a snowflake-shaped plate in front of me. He followed it with a huge mug of cocoa, complete with a small mountain of whipped cream and red and green sprinkles. Setting it down, he kissed the top of my head.
“Good morning. You didn’t answer my question. How was your night?”
“Surprisingly restful. This looks delicious.”
“Fresh from my mother’s oven. I can’t take credit for this one.”
“I thought ‘real Daddies do things the hard way’?” I lowered the tone of my voice, trying to mimic his baritone timbre.
“Ha ha, very funny. Me and baking don’t mix. That’s one of the many reasons I need a Mrs. Claus. But I’m still working on that, so I called for backup.”
“Wait! Your mother is here?” I screeched and looked around in a panic, completely ignoring his Mrs. Claus reference. This weekend so far had been amazing, but I wasn’t ready to think that far ahead.
“No, silly girl. I teleported the cinnamon buns in. This weekend is about us. There will be plenty of time for you to meet my parents.”
I chose to ignore that statement and took a generous bite of the yummy breakfast treat. It was as amazing as its scent promised it to be. The cinnamon was prominent but not overpowering, and the inside was baked to perfection. The pastry all but melted in my mouth, and don’t even get me started on the frosting. It was so tasty that I used my finger to get every tiny bite off my plate.
“Oh my goodness! I think that might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Thank you.” Daddy. It was on the tip of my tongue, but it just stuck there. It had been much easier last night after I got spanked. What the hell?
“You’re welcome, little elf. Would you like another? We have plenty.”
I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t, but dammit, I did want another one. “Yes, please.”
“Good girl.” The huge smile on his face gave away the fact that he heard my inner argument. Why did that not feel weird anymore? Weirder still was the warmth spreading through my body at his childlike endearment.
I sipped my cocoa and groaned, wishing it were coffee. This was way too many feelings to deal with without caffeine. Time to drown the feelings in frosting. I dug in to my second cinnamon roll.
“Want to guess what you and Daddy will be doing today, little one?”
“Christmas,” I spoke around a bite of pastry.
He laughed. “Yes, sassy pants, but what to do with Christmas?”
“How should I know? You’re the expert, not me.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice. It was a defense mechanism I employed when I felt vulnerable. And Santa had me feeling hella vulnerable. When he quirked a brow at my response, I sank in my seat. I recognized that look from last night. Right before I got spanked.
“Want to try that one again? Or would you like a little attitude adjustment to begin the day?”
I shook my head. I did not want another spanking like that anytime soon. No way, no how. I was barely able to swallow the last piece of my cinnamon bun past the lump that had formed in my throat. “Sorry.”
“Thank you.” He winked at me, and I couldn’t help but wiggle in my seat. I needed distance from him, and I needed it now.
I jumped out of my chair. “I really need a shower, umm…” Did I need to ask permission to shower? Was that a thing? This being six stuff was hard, but I definitely didn’t feel all of my thirty-one years, either. I decided to err on the side of caution. “Is there time in the plan for that?”
“If you feel like you need a shower, go right ahead and have a shower. If you’re doing it to avoid me, however…”
He let the threat linger, and I dropped my shoulders and sat back down.
“This is not supposed to be torture, little one. I’m excited about our day together, and I wanted to share that with you, that’s all.”
Guilt consumed me as I realized I was making a big deal over nothing. I was so damned confused and twisted around inside, I didn’t know which way was up.
He scooted his chair away from the table and patted his knee. “Come here.”
“What?” I shrieked, my heart pounding as I mentally retraced my steps. What had I done? What had I said? “Why? I apologized. I didn’t do anything to earn a spanking.”
“Calm down. I’m not going to spank you. I just want a cuddle.”
Geez, did I feel stupid. Before I could put my foot down my throat any further, I stood and went to him. As soon as I was close enough, he reached for my hand, pulled me to sit on his lap, and hugged me.
“I’m sorry you are so frustrated right now. I want you to do something for me, okay?”
I rested my head on his chest and nodded.
“Good girl. Close your eyes and take a nice deep breath. Think back to yesterday. Think about how it felt when you relaxed and let yourself just be.” I obeyed and pulled as much air into my lungs as I could before letting it out slowly. It did feel good when I was dressing the bears and when we decorated the tree and had the popcorn fight. It had been a fun day. I smiled as he rubbed one hand up and down my back. “Good girl. Now I want you to think about the spanking and how it felt to give over that kind of complete control.”
I squeezed my eyes tight. This was a little harder. That spanking had hurt. Still hurt. “Don’t think about the pain, little elf. Focus on the feelings in here, not here.” He tapped my head and then pinched my ass, and I squeaked in surprise.
“Ow, meanie.” I rubbed the spot and tried to get up, but he held on.
“Nope, you aren’t going anywhere. We are not finished here quite yet.”
I sighed and stilled, knowing if he wasn’t ready to let me up, I wasn’t getting up.
“I want you to try something for me today. Can you do that?”
“Depends what it is, I guess.” I eyed him skeptically.
“I want you to call me Daddy, all day. Whenever you address me, I want to hear you say it. It will help you let go.”
“You’re joking, right? I can’t call you...that.” I swallowed hard. I was thinking it constantly, but saying it was so much harder.
“You did last night, more than once.”
“That was after… you know.”
“After I spanked you for being a naughty little girl? Yes it was, and if you need that kind of incentive again, I can provide it, but I don’t think you want another big spanking, do you, little elf?”
I shook my head. I absolutely did not want another spanking like that. I could still feel that one.
“Words, little one.”
I bit my lips and stayed quiet. I honestly didn’t think I could do it. The idea of it was so foreign, and I was scared. What if all of this was some crazy stunt to get me to believe and then he walked away?
“Trust your Daddy.”
“I can’t say it,” I admitted.
He didn’t say another word, and before I knew it, I was facedown on his lap once again.
“No, no, no. Please don’t!”
He skimmed my pants and panties down, and the cool air heightened my nerves. I craned my neck to look back at him.
“If you can’t let go, then I will help you, simple as that.” He lifted his hand, and I braced myself.
Just say it, I pleaded with my own stubbornness as frustrated tears pricked the back of my eyes. You want to say it! Say it.
His hand fell rapidly three times on each cheek, and that’s all it took.
“Please, Daddy. Please, don’t spank me! I will do what you said. I’ll trust you. I’m sorry. Please don’t spank me anymore.”
“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He pulled my pants and panties back up and helped me stand. Taking my cheeks in his hands, he kissed my forehead. “I think you will be pleasantly surprised with the amount of freedom you feel today, little elf. Are you ready to have some fun?”
“Yes, D-daddy.” I choked on the word, but breathed a sigh of relief once it was out. It did feel good. I nodded and wiped the unshed tears from my eyes. He was my Daddy, at least for the rest of the day, and he would take care of me. That much I could trust.
Each time I called him Daddy, it felt better and better on my lips. It was as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and I was free to enjoy life. And when Santa Daddy said there would be fun, he wasn’t kidding. I emerged from dressing for the day to find two tables in my main living area. One was covered with every cookie-decorating tool imaginable, different colors of frosting, sprinkles, and edible glitter. The other held a few baking pans, large balls of dough, rolling pins, and flour. There were cookie cutters of all shapes and sizes depicting different Christmas symbols. I could already smell cookies baking.
“I got one pan in the oven already, so we don’t waste any time. Are you ready for one of my favorite Christmas traditions?”
“They’re all your favorite.” I giggled.
“Yeah, you might be right about that. I’m kind of crazy for Christmas. Job hazard.” He winked. “Oh well, come on, little elf. These cookies aren’t going to decorate themselves.”
I positioned myself in front of one of the large balls of dough and watched him out of the corner of my eye. I had never baked anything that didn’t come out of a box, and I had no idea what I was doing. He looked up and smiled.
“Pull off a chunk of dough and flour your rolling pin then just roll it out. Watch.” He demonstrated for me, expertly flattening the dough into a perfect sheet. I copied his movements, excited to find out the process was pretty simple. Upbeat Christmas music played in the background as we cut out and decorated dozens of cookies. Daddy sang most of the songs, and I found myself dancing along and joining in the chorus of some of the familiar tunes. It was so much fun, and it was over before I was ready.
“That’s the last of them, little elf.” He wiped his hands on the goofy apron he had been sporting all morning. “What do you think?”
“Are you sure there’s not more dough? I want to do more.”
“No, little one, there’s no more dough, but you know those little people shapes we decorated?”
I nodded. They had been some of my favorite to do. Putting frosting faces and clothing on them had been fun.
“Well they need homes, don’t you think?” His eyes twinkled with mirth as he got up and walked behind the counter.
“Homes?”
“Since we already have all of the frosting, I thought it would be fun to decorate gingerbread houses.” He pulled out two preassembled little houses and brought them to the table.
“I did this at school once!” I clapped my hands excitedly, surprised when I actually felt the childlike excitement building inside me. “Don’t we need candy and stuff?”
He winked again and snapped his fingers. The cookie mess disappeared, in its place a fresh tablecloth and little bowls of different types of candy. Candy canes, gumdrops, chocolate-coated candies, licorice ropes, and sprinkles in every size and shape imaginable.
“You know? I don’t think other Daddies can turn messes into candy like that,” I teased.
“That’s only one of the perks of having a Santa Daddy.” He reached over and tickled my stomach. I jumped away, laughing.
“’Bout time we got to the perks,” I teased as I picked one of the houses and retrieved the green frosting.
“Ha ha, little brat. In two days, you have gotten more Christmas than some people get all season. I would call that a perk.”
“I guess it’s been a little fun,” I admitted grudgingly. Not wanting to wait any longer, I started decorating. I knew exactly which little boy and girl cookies were going to live in my house, and I decorated it accordingly. Red-and-green frosting, lots of candies, and some edible glitter for that extra touch. Every time I looked up, I caught Daddy watching me and smiling. I couldn’t help but smile back.
When the house looked exactly the way I wanted it to, I went to get the two cookies who were going to live there. I had decorated one as Santa and one as Mrs. Claus. I found them among the massive piles of cookies currently spread throughout my kitchen and took them to the frosted house. Setting them on either side, I giggled.
“All done, Daddy,” I announced.
He came over to my side of the table, wrapped an arm over my shoulder, and kissed me on the head. “It’s perfect, little elf.”
“It really is.” I sighed, with equal parts contentment and frustration. I wasn’t talking about the gingerbread house, either. I laid my head on Santa and took a deep breath to calm my crazy emotions. Why was I about to cry over a freakin’ gingerbread house? What was he doing to me? Clearing my throat, I turned my attention toward his creation.
“Let’s see yours.” I rounded the table to look at what he had done. The action was more about distraction than curiosity. His gingerbread house was decorated meticulously with blue and gold and in front of it was a little gingerbread girl with black licorice rope hair, and what looked to be a sad attempt at a dog. I giggled. “Is that me and Dixie?”
“It sure is.” He smiled proudly.
“But, where’s you?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I ran out of gingerbread people. I might have eaten a few before we got to the house decorating. They’re my favorite. Now, how about some lunch and a movie?” he asked with a wink, changing the subject.
“My stomach is full.” I wasn’t lying, either. I’d eaten more candy and cookies in one morning than I had the entire year combined.
“You need to eat real food, little one, but I don’t want to make you sick. How about a movie and then lunch instead?”
“Can I pick the movie?”
“From an approved list.”
“Fiiine.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry.” I covered my mouth, remembering how much trouble I’d gotten into the night before because of my attitude.
“Try again.”
I dropped my hands and clasped them in front of me. “Okay, Daddy.”
“Much better, silly girl.”