(This "analysis" concerns yesterday's story. Rather than go through such details as Santa, the tree, the present, the flying hair, and, of course above all the panties with that tiny hint of diaper-ishness I always seem get when there's tie at the waist, I decided to give an alternate version. I hope you enjoy it, and the rest of your Christmastide!)
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through my place
the straps and the canes slept by thongs of white lace.
The paddle was hung by the chimney in state
In hope that my hubby wouldn't be late.
Then down to the parlor I went on tiptoe,
To the tree where I knew I must never go
Before morning came, on pain of a spanking
I'd get if I opened my gifts without thanking.
But nevertheless the big present I'd seized
when a voice from behind me filled me with un-ease:
"Young lady," it said, "you had better stop that.
You made hubby a promise and you'd better not brat."
He sat on a stool by the tree in his suit
and he patted his lap like an ornery coot,
though his manner was kind and his pants oh so soft.
I cried out "Please don't take my nice panties off."
"Never fear," said Saint Nick, "it's not that kind of story,"
and he began to give spanks 'til my rear was a glory
of heat and of crimson: my loins were afire
for hubby's return to his bed. Nor did tire
the firm-spanking hand of the saint until sobbing
I said "Don't you need, Santa Dom, to be lobbing
some gifts down some chimneys all over the world?"
Then he set me afoot and he gave me a hug,
and he sprang up the chimney like some agile bug,
with a shout as he sped towards the sky in great pride:
"You'll remember what I gave your naughty backside!"
(Photo via Casey McKay, from the Busy Bee blog of Cari Bee. Thanks, Casey!)
(If you like these stories, try the Companion to EXPLORATIONS!)
(Caroline's Rocking Horse [Mf, ageplay, anal] and The Count's Discipline [medieval, spanking, anal] are available at Amazon!)