Secret Santa Sir

Secret Santa Sir

When Maggie gets a note from a very unofficial Secret Santa during the office’s

holiday gift exchange, she’s surprised to be tempted by it. This Secret Santa offers to
help fulfill her wilder sexual fantasies, those fantasies she’s never admitted to anyone
else. Normally the very professional, uptight Maggie wouldn’t consider doing anything
so risky. She wants a husband and family, but she also has kinky sexual fantasies and
no man has ever moved her.

Maggie agrees to Santa’s proposal, and her first few anonymous encounters with

him are a revelation, showing her levels of sensuality she’s never experienced before.
But when she meets the man behind the gifts and the glorious kisses, her life gets
seriously complicated.

As Maggie begins to fall in love with him, she faces two choices—longing for

husband and family, and continuing a relationship that fulfills her in ways she never
believed possible.

Katherine Kingston

Chapter One

Day Zero—Tuesday, Dec. 12

Maggie Marino studied the two small packages she’d found on her desk when she

got to work that morning. Their presence didn’t entirely surprise her since it was the

twelfth of December and the first day of the office Secret Santa exchange. The fact that

there were two items did. No way these were from the same person, so apparently she

had two Secret Santas? She only had one person to be Secret Santa for, so that didn’t

make sense. On the other hand, the giver of the second gift might have been a

volunteer.

The stuffed kitten in the glossy red bag wore a tiny Santa hat and the placid self-

congratulatory smile of the terminally cute. The small card that accompanied it

proclaimed its origin with her Secret Santa.

Maggie set the kitten on the shelf over her desk and considered the other gift, which

had come in a small, plain black box.

She reached in, unfolded the note that accompanied it and read it for the third time

in the twenty minutes since she’d entered her cubicle and found it.

I saw the magazine you had hidden in your purse, and it confirmed what I already suspected

about you. Yet I also suspect that you’re too inhibited to do anything about it. Are you ready to

try stepping out of that ultra-proper, straitlaced persona you wear as gracefully as your

expensive clothes, and give your wild side a little freedom?

This is an offer to help you discover the possibilities of your wilder fantasies. You’re not

obliged to accept it, and even if you do, you can call a halt at any time. This is for fun and games.

I promise you won’t get hurt any more than you actually want.

If you’re interested in doing this, put on the ring and wear it for the rest of the day. You’ll

get additional instructions.

If you have questions or concerns, write them down and put the paper in the box. Leave the

box on a corner of your desk with a paper clip sitting on it.

Live a little. Have an adventure. No promises, no commitments, no harm to anyone, no

names, even, if you don’t want. But I’ll tell you this much. I’m male, single, responsible, law-

abiding, gainfully employed, over twenty-one and under forty, and I find you attractive and

intriguing. That’s all you should need to know about me.

Should you decide not to wear the ring, you’ll hear nothing more from me.

Your Adventurous Secret Admirer

Secret Santa Sir

Maggie knew the magazine he referred to. It had stories that sparked her secret

fantasies, the very secret fantasies she’d never admitted to another soul. She hadn’t

meant to leave it in her purse, but had slipped it in there at one point and forgotten it

until later. Though she racked her brain, she didn’t remember opening the purse where

anyone would see it.

Someone had noticed it, obviously. Maggie set down the paper and dug in the

tissue stuffing of the box for the ring itself. It was a pretty but not very expensive piece.

Made of four or five thin strands of shiny, silvery metal twisted together, the only

ornamentation was a raised bar, like a thicker strand, that ran across the top. It bore no

engraving or other decoration. It wasn’t ugly, but it wasn’t her usual style of jewelry

either. Still, when she slid it onto her finger to try it on, it fit perfectly.

She yanked it off again and put it back in the box. She wasn’t that crazy or that

desperate. She put it in a drawer and turned to the computer to check her email.

It wasn’t as easy to put the ring—and the offer behind it—out of her mind. Even as

she gathered her notes to put together sales copy for the new fittings, her thoughts slid

away to speculate on who might have left the ring. It had to be someone who worked

here at Morrison Avionics. There weren’t that many men in the office who fit the

description of single, male and under forty. Her boss, the marketing director, was male

and divorced, but she doubted he was under forty. Jerry, one of the inside sales guys,

was single, but he was barely twenty-five. Too young for her, surely. Or was he…? He

was cute and attractive…in an immature sort of way. If it was him, it might be worth

pursuing… This didn’t seem like his style, though.

One of the guys from the manufacturing floor? Evan Barsky was single and in his

early thirties. Hmmm… She could get interested in him, though he seemed a bit on the

rough side. And one of the cutters was single, but she couldn’t even remember his

name. Who else?

No one… Except Sean, their main IT guy. Oh please, not Sean. Any other man in the

office she could cope with, but not Sean—even though he had starred in some of her

favorite fantasies.

Sean shattered all stereotypes of the geeky IT person. In his early thirties, tall, blond

and handsome in a craggy way, he wore a serious, almost stern expression most of the

time, except when he was frowning and growling at someone for doing something

stupid. Then his cool light-blue eyes could go very cold and his lips thinned into a mean

slash that chiseled his striking cheekbones into even starker lines. She’d been on the

receiving end of that glare several times, and it always left her with a firm resolve not to

repeat whatever mistake had evoked it.

And yet… Those fantasies… Her fingers stilled on the keyboard as one of them

filled her mind.

She’d goofed. She’d pressed a wrong key and managed to delete something she shouldn’t

have. Sean fixed it for her, but then said in his cold, hard voice, blue eyes freezing her with his

Katherine Kingston

gaze, “That’s the third time this week. I warned you what would happen if you did it again. I

want to see you in my office this afternoon at five thirty. Be prepared.”

Her heart rose into her throat, clogging it so she couldn’t talk, but she managed to nod, and

that was enough.

Their work day ended at five and few people ever worked late, so the building was very quiet

when she crept down the hall to Sean’s office in a back corner, behind the small room full of

computers and equipment. He waited for her there, sitting behind his desk, working at a

terminal.

“Sit,” he said, pointing to the other chair in the room. She did, and he then ignored her for

the next few minutes as he continued to work. Finally he finished whatever he was doing and

looked up at her.

She shivered at the look in his light eyes, but it wasn’t all fear. Excitement mixed in, tensing

all her muscles, including those in her pussy and womb, arousing a sexual fire. She dreaded this

and wanted it at the same time.

“We discussed what would happen if you messed up again.” He stood up and came around

the desk to her. “Are you ready?”

She nodded.
“Good. Come here. Put your hands flat on the desk.”
Her heart pounded like a jackhammer in her chest. It was all she could do to keep from

sobbing or running away. The panic almost choked her when he raised her skirt above her waist

and lowered her panties.

The hiss of his belt sliding free of the loops seemed to echo off the walls, and the whiz as he

swung it…

“Maggie? Earth to Maggie, come in.”
She snapped out of the reverie to find Lydia Pearson standing beside her desk.

“Oof, sorry. I got kind of distracted.”

“I’ll say,” the marketing department’s executive assistant said. “You were out of it.

The galleys for the T-16 brochure came in. Don wants them to go out on Friday, so he

needs them proofed by the end of the day.”

“Put them there,” she said, breathing out a sigh. “I’ll do them in just a minute.”
Lydia set down the papers she held. “It must have been a nice fantasy. You looked

like you were enjoying it.”

Maggie felt the heat of a blush creeping up her cheeks. “My mom’s birthday’s next

week. I’m not sure what to get her.” It was true but not the truth.

Lydia wasn’t buying it either, but all she did was stare a minute before saying,

“Right.”

Maggie tried harder to keep her mind on work. At lunch, though, she went out to a

fast-food place by herself rather than eating with coworkers. She needed time and space

to think. The ring had arrived at a disturbing moment, and it added to the restless

Secret Santa Sir

feelings that had plagued her for the last few months. Her younger sister’s wedding a

few weeks before had forced on her the realization of how empty her life was, and how

fast her time was slipping away. At twenty-eight she’d had only a few serious

relationships and none of those had gone anywhere. She’d just ended another one, with

a perfectly nice guy she liked but couldn’t get excited about. Worse, she’d started to

have glimpses of why so many perfectly acceptable men didn’t turn her on.

She’d spent years forcing herself to believe she wanted a nice, safe relationship with

a sweet, attractive guy who would give her the standard two or three children and the

house in the suburbs with the nice yard. Not that all of it was self-deception. She did

want a relationship and children and maybe even a house. But the nice, bland guys just

didn’t seem to do it for her, no matter how hard she tried.

Sadly, her one or two ventures into dating rougher sorts of guys hadn’t worked out

all that well either. She’d had only one serious relationship in her entire life, but even he

eventually realized that she wasn’t really all that into him and moved on.

The restlessness in her personal life was starting to spill over into her job. Even

though she liked it well enough, she’d been contemplating looking for something else,

simply to make a change. She’d played the cool, confident, perfectly competent

businesswoman long enough. The trappings seemed to fit, but that business suit was

starting to define who she was in a way that scared her.

Which was why she was so tempted to actually put on the ring. There was no

telling where it might lead. Nirvana or disaster seemed equally likely. But why not take

a chance? She’d played it straight for twenty-eight years. She was polite, gracious, nice

to all, never took chances… And where had it gotten her? A decent income, a nice

apartment and no social life worth talking about.

So maybe it was time to take a chance, take a leap of faith, try something different,

something exciting and a little risky. Or maybe she’d just fallen over the edge into

insanity. But she was going to do it. After all, he’d said no commitments. And she could

call a halt at any time. She just hoped it was Evan or Jerry and not Sean behind it. Please

not Sean. She could handle Evan or Jerry.

She went back to the office after lunch and put on the ring.
She spent the rest of the afternoon on the edge of her chair and the edge of her

nerves, wondering what would happen next. Nothing else did that day. She watched

everyone she came in contact with, trying to see if they looked at her finger to check for

the ring. If anyone did, she couldn’t tell.

Stella from accounting must have seen it when she brought by a couple of reports

with questions about a couple of the numbers, but she didn’t appear to notice it. Jerry

gave her some concept drawings around four, but if he even glanced at her hand, she

didn’t see it. She passed Evan as they both walked out to the parking lot in the

afternoon, but he didn’t even acknowledge her. Sean didn’t put in an appearance.

* * * * *

Katherine Kingston

“She’s wearing the ring,” Stella reported to him at four thirty. He tried to keep the

relief and satisfaction that gave him from showing, but she would’ve guessed it was

there anyway. The woman was at least sixty, but she still had a romantic heart and a

soft spot for him.

She shook her head. “I’m still not convinced this is the best way to do this. I know,

it’s romantic and mysterious, but I still think a phone call to her at home would be

smarter.”

Of course, Stella had no idea what was in the note he’d left with the ring, no idea

what he was asking of Maggie. He was sure the older woman would be thoroughly

shocked or appalled if she did know. He’d probably go way down in her approval

ratings.

He shrugged with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “I felt this would be the best way.”
Stella frowned at him. “I can’t figure out this lack of confidence. You’re young and

smart. You have a good job and you’re not bad looking. A bit on the gruff side,

admittedly, but still— Why wouldn’t a nice, attractive woman like Maggie be interested

in you? And she is, make no mistake, even if she isn’t willing to show it. I’ve seen her

watching you. Of course, she’s got her own issues. Way too uptight for someone so

young and pretty. But then… Hmm… Okay so maybe I do see why you’ve taken this

approach.”

She sighed as she walked away, but stopped at the door to say, “I hope it works

out. For both of you.”

He did too.
Maggie Marino had drawn him since the first day he’d started work here. Her looks

attracted his attention first, but something deeper kept it, even though he hadn’t dared

let her know. A few weeks ago, he’d had reason to be in her cubicle while she wasn’t

there, and he noticed the magazine sticking out of her bag.

Careful to be sure no one else saw, he peeked in it to verify his quick first

impression. Sure enough, it was a collection of erotic stories with a BDSM theme. No

doubt she’d be mortified if she knew anyone else had seen it, but he was thrilled. It

confirmed what he’d suspected, what she knew but probably resisted, being as

straitlaced and uptight as she was.

The plan had begun to take shape right then, and today he’d set it in motion.
A frisson of sheer terror crawled down his spine. What if it didn’t work out? If she

wasn’t really ready to indulge those fantasies? What if he’d misread her entirely? Stella

had said she’d broken up with the last guy she was dating and was not seeing anyone

else, but what if Stella had her information wrong.

No. Maggie wouldn’t have put on the ring in any of those cases.
But still, he couldn’t begin to predict where this might go.

Secret Santa Sir

Chapter Two

Day One—Wednesday, Dec. 13

The next morning Maggie found a blue gift bag sitting on her desk. It didn’t look

like something that would have come from a Secret Santa. Checking to see if anyone in

the neighboring cubicles was watching, she dug cautiously in the tissue that filled the

bag. A sheet of paper crinkled against her fingers and a small, soft bundle wrapped

separately rested at the bottom

She pulled out the paper, which had “Read Me First” written in large block letters

on the outside, and unfolded it.

On the first day of Christmas, my Master gave to me, an adventure for the holidays.

Maggie—

I’m thrilled that you’ve decided to go along with my proposal. I know it was a difficult

decision for you. As I said before, you can stop this at any time if you’re not happy or

comfortable with it.

I’m giving you safe words to use. If you say “Yellow light” at any time, it means you need a

break or a breather. If you say “Red light,” that means whatever we’re doing stops, right then

and there, and we talk about it. I promise to respect your wishes if you use those words.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, here’s what I want you to do next.
Tonight I want you to go to the Redwood Hotel and present yourself at room 344 at

precisely seven thirty. Before you knock on the door, I want you to put on the enclosed. Put on

the blindfold first, then wind the scarf around your head over the blindfold. There will be no

peeking. Once you have those on, knock on the door. From then until you leave that room, you

will follow all directions I give you.

If you have another commitment tonight and cannot make it, put a note in this bag and

leave it on the corner of your desk this afternoon.

Otherwise I’ll see you tonight.

Your Secret Admirer

Maggie’s hands shook as she refolded the note and put it back in the bag, then

stowed the entire thing in a desk drawer. Even if she’d had something else on the

schedule that evening, she would have cancelled it. The “no peeking” warning gave her

pause, however. Suppose it was someone she really couldn’t stand. Like Chris out on

Katherine Kingston

the floor. He wasn’t married, but she could never work up any spark of attraction to

him. His coarse manners and terrible language always put her off. Pray God it wasn’t

Chris. Evan would be good. Jerry would be okay. Not Sean, please. Could it even be

someone else? One of the sales people who were in and out? She’d never noticed any of

them taking a particular interest in her, but then she really didn’t try to attract attention,

except for her boss’s good reviews and the friendship of a couple of the other women.

Oh, and Sean growling at her for some stupid mistake she’d made.

It took a tremendous effort to keep her mind on work that day. She kept stopping to

take out the bag. When no one was around, she unwrapped the small soft packet at the

bottom and found the promised blindfold—black velvet with an elastic cord, and a

lovely purple-and-black silk scarf. Whoever it was had good taste.

Time crept more slowly than a turtle’s stately march. Each minute seemed to last an

hour. But finally the day ended. Too nervous to eat much dinner, Maggie forced herself

to swallow a few bites of the sandwich so she could have a small glass of wine with it.

What to wear engendered a twenty-minute debate that ended with her donning a

lambswool sweater and skirt, knee boots and leggings, topped by her leather coat.

What would he do? Would he demand sex? In what form? Could she handle it? No

way to tell yet, but she wouldn’t go unprepared. The box of condoms she’d bought in a

fit of optimism six months ago was still in the bathroom cabinet, so she dropped them

into her purse.

Staring mindlessly at a television news show while she ate dinner helped convince

her, if nothing had before, that she needed to do something different, to make some

kind of change in her life. This was the first day of the new Maggie Marino.

Nonetheless, she still nearly had a panic attack on the drive to the hotel, which was

smack in the middle of downtown Baltimore.

She got to the hotel and tried not to glance nervously at the elderly couple that

shared the elevator car. Fortunately they stayed on when she got off at the third floor.

After scanning the hall in either direction and seeing no one else, she stopped in front of

the designated door, put on the blindfold and wrapped the scarf over it as instructed,

until even hints of light and dark were blotted out. She rapped on the door, hoping the

knock would be answered quickly. Her nerves were jangling and her stomach danced

an electric slide while she waited.

The door rattled and clicked. Air moved past her then a hand rested on her arm and

guided her inside. “I thought you might still chicken out,” a masculine voice said from

close by. It had an odd, muffled tone, as though he spoke through cloth or something.

Trying to disguise his voice? Almost she thought she recognized it, but not quite. Evan,

Jerry, Sean—or someone else? She couldn’t tell for sure.

“Come in and sit down.” The hand on her arm guided her to a padded armchair.

“Would you like a drink? Water, beer, wine, something harder?”

“Water, please. Maybe wine in a bit,” she answered.

Secret Santa Sir

Ice clinked and liquid poured, then a cool glass was put into her hand. “There’s a

table on your right where you can set it down.”

She nodded.
“We’re going to take this slow,” her Secret Admirer said. “I want to ask you some

questions. I expect answers, truthful ones. There will be a punishment if I find out you

lied to me. Do you understand?”

She drew in a sharp breath on the word “punishment” but hoped he hadn’t seen or

heard it. Not likely. She had the impression he was watching her reactions carefully,

and she’d already betrayed something to him. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good. You are single, right?”
“Yes.”
“Not in a romantic relationship with anyone?”
“Not at the moment,” she admitted.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Are you a virgin?”
“No.”
“How many men have you had sex with?”
She had to think about that for a moment. “Four.”
“Have you ever had an orgasm with them?”
She hesitated. “Yes. I think.”
He paused before he said, “If you only think you did, it wasn’t much of an orgasm.”
Maggie had no answer for that. He went on asking question after question about

her dating history, the age when she’d first dated—sixteen—the age when she’d had

her first sexual encounter—twenty—etc. He moved around to the back of her chair as

he asked, “Have you ever masturbated?”

It startled her. His fingers wove into her hair, holding her down and caressing the

strands to soothe her again. When she remained quiet, he said, “Answer me. Honestly.”

Maggie drew a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Good.” Something in his voice changed. Not the muffled part of it, that stayed the

same, but the timbre deepened, grew richer, rougher, more sensual. “Has any man ever

done this to you?”

He ran the tip of a finger gently and ever so slowly from right in front of her ear

down and back to her throat, then made thrilling circles below her ear. She sucked in a

sharp breath at the tingles that roused and spread from the site of the contact. The other

fingers on his hand brushed across the bottom of her jaw and her throat. Such a slight

and simple act, barely a caress, but the world rocked. No one had ever touched her in

such a careful but blatantly sensual way. A shiver raced up and down her spine.

Katherine Kingston

“You haven’t answered me.” The deep richness of the tone remained, overlaid now

with sternness and mastery.

Her head felt too light and separated from the rest of her. “Yes. I mean no. What

was the question again?”

He laughed. “Has any man ever touched you like this before?”
She could barely find breath enough to answer. “No.”
“You like it, though.”
“Yes.” Tension gathered in her core as the electric tingles continued to zip across

her skin, scattering from where he continued to explore her neck.

He stopped and drew his hand away. “I think it’s time for that wine we discussed.”
Maggie let out a sigh. She told herself it was from relief and not disappointment.

When he put a glass in her hand, she took a long swallow of a smooth, crisp white wine.

It refreshed and steadied her. After a minute she stopped shaking and became aware of

other things. Like sounds and smells. In her blindfolded darkness, other senses became

more acute. She could hear her own breath heaving in and out, of course, but the faint

gasping sounds of another person’s rapid respiration came to her as well. Nice to know

her Secret Admirer had been affected by the touching as well. And beyond the fruity,

alcoholic aroma of the wine, the laundry smells of the hotel room, she detected a pine-

tinged male fragrance that mingled with something more essentially male. Was that

what pheromones smelled like? She could drown in that heady mixture.

They drank in silence for a few minutes until, fortified by the wine, she dared to

break it. “When will I find out who you are?”

“In good time, if you really want to know,” he answered.
“I do,” she said.
“It won’t be that long, but it will be on my schedule. Are you afraid?”
“Some.”
“Understandable. But doesn’t that just add to the excitement?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe.”
“Have another taste,” he ordered. She took another drink of the chilled wine. Then

he took the glass from her and she heard twin clinks as he set it and another—his?—on

the table. “Now. I have a few more questions for you.” Gentle fingers pushed the hair

off the back of her neck. “Has anyone ever touched you here before?” He ran his fingers

across the skin he’d revealed. That area wasn’t quite as sensitive as her throat, but his

touch still roused tingles of awareness.

“No,” she said on a long exhalation.
“Have you ever been kissed there?” A crinkle of rustling fabric sounded before his

fingers drew away and something softer and moister replaced them. Lips with a hint of

tongue ran back and forth along the nape of her neck, then circled around to her throat.

Rasping breaths mingled with her own pants as the tingles in her skin grew to bolts of

energy and the tension in her core built again.

Secret Santa Sir

“No-oo.” The word came out on two short quick breaths. For a time, he brushed

back and forth over her skin, trailing hot, moist streaks. Jolting bolts of pleasure raced

straight to her pussy, drawing a few quiet moans from her. Then the lips withdrew. She

heard him struggling to get his breathing under control again.

His footsteps sounded as he moved. He drew her to her feet with both hands, then

something touched her lips. A finger again. He brushed back and forth across them.

Sparks rippled across the sensitive surface.

“I’m sure you’ve been kissed here before,” he said, “but have you been kissed like

this?” His voice was different now, no longer muffled, but deep and throaty. He drew

her to her feet and then his lips came down. He took it slowly, starting very gently, just

brushing his mouth against hers. He drew her body closer until she wrapped her arms

around him. He was at least six inches taller than her and built slim. That eliminated

Jerry, who was only an inch taller than her own five foot seven. It could still be either

Evan or Sean. But it had to be Evan. She couldn’t imagine Sean acting like this, being so

sensual and so gentle at the same time.

His tongue ran over her lips back and forth, then probed deeper, nudging them

apart to gain entrance. Time stood still as the kiss went on and on, so hot, so sweet she

wondered how her body could contain it. In her velvet darkness, the heat of his body

surrounded and cocooned her, while his mouth played hers like a fine instrument.

Nobody had ever kissed her like this, like it was the most satisfying thing in the whole

world and there was no need to stop, even to breathe. Every nerve in her vibrated to the

tune he strummed on her, making her sing with the incredible pleasure.

Could you fall in love with a man just because he was the most amazing kisser

you’d ever met? Probably not, but you could certainly slide into lust with him. Even if

you hadn’t seen his face and didn’t know who he was.

His hands glided down her shoulders, then under her arms so that his palms rested

on her sides, fingers splayed, letting the tips of his thumbs brush her breasts on either

side. The warmth penetrated through her clothes, imparting his heat to her skin. It crept

into her veins as well, making her blood sizzle. The hard jut of his cock, barely

contained by his pants, pushed against her belly. That slight pressure added to the

thrill.

Then his mouth touched delicately, sensually below her right ear. His lips moved

over the soft skin and his tongue emerged occasionally to lick gently across the sensitive

surface. The slow, heated warmth fired her blood and set it singing in her veins as the

contact ignited tiny explosions of pleasure. Her heartbeat sped up, and her breath

heaved in harsh pants.

The rough sounds of air moving through tightened throats didn’t come just from

her. His own breath was uneven, ragged. Small vibrations moving from his body and

made her tremble as well.

Katherine Kingston

A long, blissful interlude ended when he pressed her back into the chair and backed

away. She heard him fumbling with the wineglasses again, the splash of liquid, and

then one was pressed into her hand.

The cloth slithered lightly again and muffled his voice when he spoke. “Just a little

more since you’ll have to drive home, but we have more to discuss.”

Maggie nodded sharply, struggling to get her breathing under control.
“Why did you come tonight?” he asked.
“Your note came at the right time. I was ready for a change, needed it. The

holidays…everything…made me realize how boring and empty my life is.”

“That’s all?” The tone was skeptical.
“No. It… I… You were right. I have a need…that’s different.”
“A need that worries you? Embarrasses you? Even scares you? “
“A bit.”
“Because it’s so unfashionable?” The edge of sarcasm made her flinch.
“Because it’s terrifying. And possibly dangerous.” She drew a deep breath. “And,

yes, because it’s so not politically correct.”

His harsh laugh didn’t do much to settle her nerves. “No, it’s not. But you’d be

surprised how common a desire it is. A lot of women—and quite a few men too—share

that need. A lot of people want to be mastered sexually, to have decisions taken out of

their hands, to bend to the will of someone else, to perform at a Master’s pleasure. To be

tested and pushed. Some want to be tied down or gagged. Blindfolded and stripped.

Many want to be punished for their failures. Or just for their Master’s pleasure. To

show that they submit completely. Some people need the stronger sensation of pain to

make them come fully alive. Many people want to be spanked, pinched, poked, pierced,

whipped or flogged. Some want it light, others harsh. What about you, Maggie? What

do you want?”

Her throat convulsed and made it hard to get any words out. “I don’t know. I’ve

never… Maybe all of it.”

A brief pause followed before he said, “That’s what I want as well. We’ll try all of it,

but only if you’ll promise I can rely on you to tell me when something is too much or

turns you off. I need to know what you do and don’t want. I want to be your Master,

not your owner or torturer. And only in the sexual relationship, if you decide you want

to continue this. Can you do that?”

She blew out a breath. “I think so.”
“We’ll talk about what we do. What you need and want. No matter how hard or

embarrassing it is, you must be honest with me. There may be pain—no, there will be

pain, but it should lead to pleasure. If it doesn’t, then there’s no point in it. Tonight you

get just a small taste. I said we’d take it slow, and I meant it. Stand up.”

She did as he ordered, pressing a hand down on the back of the chair to keep her

balance. Damn, but she wished she could see him. She had a feeling she knew who it

Secret Santa Sir

was, but she wanted to be sure. It was so stunning. So unexpected. So promising and

terrifying at the same time.

Then his lips came down on the back of her neck again, and his arms wound

around her from behind, hands sliding from her sides inward until each one cupped a

breast. Thought fled under the sensual assault as heat worked its way through the

layers of sweater, camisole and bra. The fire inside, which had banked during their

exchange, roused again.

He drew her back against him, pressing her hips into his, letting her feel the proof

of his desire for her. The hard bulge of his cock pushed against her bottom.

Without sight, his hard body surrounded her and filled her other senses with his

touch, his aroma and the light, gasping breaths.

Hands slid lower to settle for a moment on the upper curves of her hips before he

pressed up beneath the edge of her sweater, running his fingers under the camisole as

well. She gasped at the increased heat of his touch on bare flesh. Rivers of fire seemed to

trail behind where his fingers traced. Combined with his tongue lapping at the side of

her neck, edging toward her throat, it melted her bones. Her knees weakened and she

leaned back against him.

His hand traveled upward, fingers tracing spirals on the flesh of her stomach and

lower chest. Tension built along with the heat, making her gut clench and moisture

gather in her pussy. Her breath heaved in and out harshly, a rapid counterpoint to his

low groans of pleasure.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, the air tickling it and adding to

the bonfire of arousal. He thought she was beautiful? She wasn’t homely, but she’d

never thought of herself as anything more than reasonably okay. The words as much as

his touch fueled the heat pouring through her.

Hands brushed over her breasts through the fabric of her bra. His fingers sought the

nipples and pressed harder, then pinched lightly. Jolts of electricity shot through her,

making her gasp and then groan. No man had ever touched her like this before. She’d

thought a couple of her sexual encounters were reasonably good. She might even have

had an orgasm and one or two of her lovers had caressed her in advance of entry. But

none of them had ever taken this slow, sensual approach that built the sexual energy

into such a fire. No man had so concentrated on her pleasure rather than his own.

Wasn’t there an odd irony there? That a man who wanted to be her Master was the

first to concentrate on arousing her?

“So responsive,” he said, the words a low rumble against her throat. “Have you

ever been this aroused before?”

“No, never,” she admitted.
“Good. Neither have I.”
No reason those words should turn her on almost as much as anything he’d done

so far. But they sent a shiver of joy down her spine.

Katherine Kingston

The fingers that were under her camisole pushed up the bottom edge of her bra

until the entire thing rested above the tops of breasts. Warm palms pressed against the

exposed mounds and rubbed gently. Maggie squealed as more jolts of pure pleasure

tore through her.

Her nipples hardened into tight buds when the tips of his fingers ran over them and

squeezed lightly. Arousal was a tide that threatened to drown her, washing over her in

waves of pure, violent pleasure. Yet at the center of it all was him. A man whose face

she couldn’t see, whose identity she wasn’t one hundred percent sure of. A man who

could easily and rapidly become deeply entrenched in her universe anyway.

A man she didn’t know and couldn’t afford to trust too much yet. But he surely

knew a lot about seduction. Perhaps that should worry her. He pinched her nipples, just

hard enough to sting a little, forcing a moan from her. Thought fled completely as the

tide of pleasure swept her along into a sea of need.

She heard him shift and the chair creaked so she assumed he’d sat down in it. He

pulled her backward against him. Her bottom was on the seat, though only a few inches

of space remained. His hard thighs were on either side of hers, so apparently he held

her between his spread legs. His hands stayed on her breasts, continuing to roll, knead

and squeeze. He pinched again and this time he bit down lightly on her shoulder at the

same time. Spikes of mingled pleasure and pain drove through her, so strong she

wondered if she’d fly apart. He chuckled softly at her prolonged groan.

But then he shifted her again, nudging her off the seat, to stand. He shifted his legs

then tugged her down toward him, but not to sit. Her breath jerked in sharply as she

came to rest lying face-down across his thighs, hands on the floor on one side with her

head hanging between them. Was he really going to—?

He was. Excitement met sheer terror to make her head light and send shivers of

anticipation all through her. A hand pushed up her skirts, but he didn’t remove her

panties. Instead a large palm circled her bottom cheeks, smoothing down the panties,

readying its target. Thank heaven she’d worn her best silk briefs.

Muscles tensed when his hand lifted off her bottom. She’d fantasized about being in

this position but never dreamed it would really happen. How much would it hurt?

Could she bear it?

His hand came down, delivering a sharp slap to her right bottom cheek. Maggie

sighed in relief. It stung a little, a very little, then disappeared. A second spank followed

shortly, and it too was just a quick snap. The tingle lasted only moments, but they were

glorious moments as her skin fired and the heat sank in, gathering in her pussy.

He spanked a few more times, getting a little harder each time, but it wasn’t even

close to uncomfortable until he struck her unprotected skin right below the bottom edge

of the panties on her right thigh. That one burned, surprising a small squeal from her.

He laughed through whatever muffled his voice. “It does work better on bare skin,”

he commented.

“Depends on how you define ‘better’.”

Secret Santa Sir

“Getting a reaction like that works for me.” He slapped his palm down on the

opposite thigh below the panty line. She gasped at the sting and wriggled on his lap.

The pressure on her belly and the burn from behind ignited a fire deep inside. Two

more slaps on the sensitive area just below where thighs met buttocks accelerated her

breathing into rapid pants and made her pussy swell with need.

He stopped to caress the skin he’d just smacked, rubbing just enough to relieve

most of the sting, but increasing the pressure in her core. His hands moved up her

buttocks, making gentle circles around each ass cheek. Maggie moaned as pleasure

swelled. She’d never felt this much arousal before, never wanted a man so badly. She

longed to jump up and tear off her clothes and his, draw him against her, feel his hard

cock probing…

Lost in her fantasies, Maggie jolted when he shifted and lifted her off his thighs. Her

legs wobbled as she stood. The hand he put on her arm to steady her helped, but fine

tremors continued to sweep up and down her body. Cloth rustled as he stood, then his

arms were around her, drawing her close.

God, he felt good—warm, strong, solid. Her head nestled on his shoulder, against

the crook of his neck.

His voice was a harsh whisper when he said, “Letting you go without burying

myself in you tonight is going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

“You don’t have to,” she answered.
He jerked and drew a breath. “Yes, I do. We won’t be taking that step until you

know exactly who’s fucking you.”

This time she jumped at the crude language. If he’d intended to jolt her out of the

romantic reverie—and she suspected he had—it worked. She pulled back from him.

He held onto her arm, however. “I told you we’d take this slow, and that’s how it’s

going to go. Don’t forget I’m the Master here.”

“I’ll try not to.”
“Good. Now, sit again.” He guided her into the chair. “We need to talk about the

spanking. How did it feel to you?”

“When you spanked over the panties I barely felt it at all. On my thighs, it stung,

but not really too badly.”

“Did it arouse you?”
“You couldn’t tell?” That shocked her.
“I thought I could, but I’m not making any assumptions. We don’t know each other

well enough yet for that.”

“Oh. Yeah, it turned me on.”
“Good. Was it too hard? Too light? Too long?”
“Not too long. Or too hard. I think I could handle more. And harder. A lot more,

maybe. And quite a bit harder. That barely tingled.”

Katherine Kingston

“Ah.” She thought she heard satisfaction in the word. “How do you think you’d

feel if I used a paddle? Or a belt?”

“Excited, I think. And terrified. But intrigued. Am I a mess or what?”
“A novice.” There was a definite chuckle in his tone. “A novice submissive. What

do think of nipple clamps?”

“Intrigued but not sure I could handle it.”
“If we do this, you’ll always have the safe words. You can stop anything at any

time, if you don’t like it or it’s too much for you. I will expect you to use them.”

“All right.”
“Butt plugs?”
“No, thank you. I don’t think it will do anything for me.”
“Okay. Noted.”
“Flogger?”
“Ummm… Yes.”
She could hear his smile when he asked, “What about some of the heavier things?

Cane, crop, whip?”

“I’m intrigued, but scared too.”
“We’ll take those cautiously, then. Now, I know you’ve done some reading about

the scene. What would completely turn you off?”

“Humiliation, especially in public. Pretty much anything blatant in public. I know

lots of people go to clubs to… to play, but I can’t see me doing that.”

“Okay, no clubs, no ‘playing’ in public. Anything else?”
She hesitated, not sure how he would react to the next thing that came to mind.
“Honesty,” he prompted. “This kind of relationship is tricky enough on its own.

Without complete honesty, it won’t work.”

“Makes sense,” she admitted. “All right. I don’t think I could do this all the time. I

know some people want to be a slave or a submissive 24/7. I’m not that type.”

“Never thought you would be,” he said. “We’ll work out times and situations.

Anything else?”

“I guess not, right now.”
“We’ll talk some more.” He drew her gently to her feet and kissed her on the

mouth. His lips on hers were soft and giving at first, brushing and rubbing. Then his

tongue slicked over her lips and pushed in. The heat began to grow again and her pulse

sped up. He made a leisurely exploration of her mouth, stroking the sensitive tissues.

They pressed closer together. His cock nudged her stomach, reaching for its goal.

She wrapped her arms around him, running her fingers into his crisp, slightly curly

hair, then exploring his back through the fabric of the dress shirt he wore. His hands

crept up her hips, working their way under the sweater to find bare skin.

Secret Santa Sir

Heat flowed in rivers along her nerves and sinews, melting her bones, making it

hard to stay standing. She began to tremble again with the renewed arousal. She tugged

at his shirt wanting to feel the warmth of his skin, but before she got it loose, he drew

back and away.

“No more tonight. Same place, same time, same blindfold tomorrow. There will be

additional instructions. You can take off the blindfold as soon as the door closes behind

you.”

He led her to the door, opened it and nudged her out.

* * * * *

Dear God, she was beautiful. And hot. There was so much potential sensuality there

that she kept under wraps. He wanted to be the man who brought it all out in her.

His cock ached as he thought about her and how she’d reacted to his touches, his

kiss, his careful caressing of her breasts. He stripped down, lay back on the bed,

wrapped his hand around his shaft and let the memories take over.

Every part of him got harder and tenser as he recalled the way she’d shivered so

delicately when his lips slid down the side of her throat. The feel of her slender body

and those gorgeous breasts. The way she’d reacted when he touched them. And her

marvelous ass draped over his thighs, waiting for his attention.

His hand slid up and down his shaft, getting faster and faster as he relived each

swat he’d laid on that lovely bottom. The way she jolted each time, and wriggled so

enticingly. She had no idea how close he’d come to shooting his load right then.

Especially when he’d noticed the perfume of her arousal drowning the light floral scent

she wore.

Her admission that she’d actually liked it… Wanted more. And harder. That she

was interested in experimenting…

The bed creaked in time with the strokes on his cock getting faster and harder. He

froze for a moment with the mental vision of her draped over the couch in his

apartment, with him standing behind her, holding a belt ready…

He came hard, fast and hot with the thought of swinging the strap and laying a

lovely welt on her bottom, then kissing it better.

He rested there for a few minutes as his pulse settled and breathing quieted. But

when he got up and went to clean himself up, the doubts and dangers began knocking

at his brain.

Would she be horrified when she realized who he was? He’d heard a couple of the

women joking about how intimidating he was and how his frowning made them quake.

Maggie hadn’t said anything, but she hadn’t disagreed with them either.

What if he went too fast for her or did something that really hurt her or turned her

off?

Secret Santa Sir

Chapter Three

Day Two—Thursday, Dec. 14

Maggie fought the urge to go into work early the next morning, to see if she could

catch her “Secret Santa” in the act. She was pretty sure she knew who he was, but

wanted it confirmed. Or did she? He had a reason for doing it this way. It might be

better to go along with it.

A discreetly sealed Christmas bag waited for her on her desk chair. The chair had

been pushed in close to the desk, hiding the bag from view until she moved it out. Open

it now? A quick glance around the office showed only a few people in their cubes

already, and those who were appeared engrossed in their computers. Still she waited

until she’d hung her coat on the hook near the open end of the cubicle and stowed her

purse in a drawer.

She split the seal and peered into the bag. Wrapped in tissue paper, she found a box

containing a Cross pen and a second box full of fine writing paper. Taped to the clear

plastic top of the paper package was a note.

On the first day of Christmas, my Master gave to me, a ring to mark his authority.
On the second day of Christmas, my Master gave to me, two pink ass cheeks and an outlet

for my fantasy.

Maggie—

To help me better understand what you want, please use the enclosed to write down three of

your favorite sexual fantasies to give me tonight.

In case you haven’t noticed there are three items in the bag.
Keep the ring on. Should you decide to end this, you can signal it by taking the ring off. I’ll

say nothing more about it if you do.

Your Secret Santa

She dug back into the bag and found another packet of tissue wrapping something

soft. Peeling back the paper revealed a pair of tiny pink thong panties. She ran a finger

over the silk fabric, picturing herself in them, over his knees as she’d been the previous

evening. Maggie squirmed in the chair as heat rushed to her core. It aroused her so

much it was dangerous.

Katherine Kingston

She glanced around quickly to be sure no one had noticed, put it all back in the bag

and clicked on her computer to check her email. Putting her thoughts and daydreams

away wasn’t nearly so easy. By sheer force of will, she managed to pull her awareness

away from those sexy thoughts and onto the emails she needed to respond to. That

helped immerse her in work.

As soon as she sat back for a break, the message and a flood of possible scenarios

came rushing back to her mind. Which ones to write down for him?

She was sure of two by lunchtime, so she took the pen and paper with her when she

headed out to a fast-food place down the street for lunch. Normally she got a salad or

healthier sandwich from the shop on the first floor of the building, but Maggie wanted

the privacy of a booth in a place where it was less likely she’d run into anyone she

knew.

The first was easy, since it was kind of her basic fantasy, from which she wrung all

sorts of scenarios.

I used the credit card to buy a bunch of new clothes and didn’t tell my husband about it.

When he asked about the charge later, I lied, which I know was bad, but I also knew that under

our prior arrangement, he would punish me if I went on any more unauthorized spending

sprees.

Of course, he found out about my lies and I had to face the music, the music being a

spanking for breaking our agreement.

He had me to strip down to my underwear for the punishment, then lay across his lap, my

head resting on one end of the couch, my legs on the other. His hand was hard and strong and

relentless as he spanked my bottom, first one side, then the other, going back and forth until it

burned even through the panties.

When he halted I hoped it was over, but I knew it wasn’t. Instead the pushed his fingers

under the band of the panties and drew them down to my knees, exposing my bottom to his harsh

reprimand. This time when he started spanking it burned fiercely almost right away. I kicked and

yelled as the fire in my bottom grew unbearable. I begged and pleaded and promised I’d never do

it again.

I was so engulfed in the burning that it took me a moment to realize it had stopped. I drew a

hiccupping breath and told him I was sorry in a very small voice.

He said he knew, but we had one more thing to do to ensure I wouldn’t forget. I shivered

with fear when he told me to stand up, go into the bedroom and bend over the end of the bed. As I

got in position I saw him pull the paddle out of a drawer

I shook with fear then. That foot-long strip of polished wood burned like fire. I wanted to beg

him not to use it, to assure him that I’d learned my lesson, but I knew it would do no good.

When the first smack of the paddle landed squarely across my ass cheeks, I screamed. It hurt

worse than I could have imagined. Five more times the wood crashed loudly and agonizingly on

my bottom. The skin felt raw and swollen by then and I didn’t think I could take any more.

Secret Santa Sir

I was wrong, of course. I endured three more hard smacks, though I shrieked and writhed

and sobbed with each.

Then he stopped and tossed the paddle aside. It was over, he told me, and he hoped he’d never

have to do it again. He held me while I cried and apologized again, and then he began to caress

me. One thing led to another and we ended up making love. He seemed determined to give me

just as much pleasure then as he’d given me pain earlier. It was the best ever.

She managed to spin all sorts of variations on that theme. The loving boss

punishing a poorly trained secretary, a boyfriend angry about her apparent cheating on

him, the harsh trainer determined to help his client lose weight. All those had figured in

her fantasies. Maybe some of the more unusual ones?

I think I’m some kind of journalist and I’ve stowed away on the yacht of a rich and famous

man to get a story I’m after. Of course, he finds me when we’re well out on the water. After some

negotiation, he agrees to give me the story I want, if I’ll agree to take a punishment for stowing

away. The punishment is a whipping. I want that interview badly, so I tell him I will. Of course,

it’s all on his terms.

He has me strip naked before he fastens my wrists to a bar just above my head on the boat.

He uses some kind of flogger, whipping my back from neck down to my knees, paying special

attention to my buttocks and upper thighs. It’s not a very harsh flogger so at first it just feels a

bit tingly, but as it goes on, it begins to burn.

And he keeps on whipping me for a long time, not hard enough to do any damage, but

enough that the sting makes me groan and struggle to get away. And it keeps going until I’m

pretty sure I can’t bear any more. I’m burning, about to explode in fire. Yet at the same time I’m

so turned-on, I’m about to come as well.

Just when I’m sure I’m going to scream and beg, he releases me and guides me into the main

cabin and onto the bunk there. He rubs some kind of soothing lotion over my stinging back, but

the caress turns into more, delving into my secret places, and I get so hot and needy again, I roll

over and drag him down on top of me.

Definitely that one. Now what? Maybe something more exotic?

In some far away land, a long time ago, I’m a princess, but the younger daughter, so my role

is to buy peace through marriage to one of my father’s enemies. I’m not happy about being

handed over to a man I’ve never met, so I am not as polite as I should be to my future husband. I

humiliate him with my rudeness in front of his court, so he is forced to punish me.

Although he should do it in public, he chooses to take me to his quarters to give me the

whipping that is due. However, he leaves the door cracked so that his court will hear the sounds

of the punishment and know that it has been done. I haven’t come willingly or without struggle,

but he bids the four guards who dragged me there to leave, telling them to wait outside in the

corridor.

Katherine Kingston

Then he tells me to strip. When I stand there, he warns that if I don’t do it myself, he will

call the guards back in to do it. I give in and remove my clothes, until I stand before him in just

my shift. Even that must come off he tells me, and I yank it over my head and throw it to the

floor.

He leads me to the large bed and ties my wrists together around one of four tall posts at the

corners. I shiver in anticipation when he steps back and I hear him unbuckle the heavy leather

belt he wears around his waist. Silence reigns for a few long moments. I don’t dare look back to

see why he’s delaying. Then I hear the ominous whizzing sound that ends in a crack when the

leather hits flesh.

The shock hits just before the fire. It streaks through me like a blaze of stinging needles

driving into my bottom all at once. I’m sure he hasn’t struck as hard as he could’ve, but it was

hard enough to draw a shrill scream from me. The second strike paints another ribbon of fire

across my bottom.

I have no idea how much I’d have to endure but I’m pretty sure I can’t handle much of it.

Not that it matters what I think or want. Time and again the strap comes down on my rear end,

spreading fire all through me. I groan and wiggle and shriek at the harder strokes. The only relief

my bottom gets is when the strap rakes across my thighs instead.

After a dozen or so my ass stings furiously. The fire burns along every nerve and sinew of

my body. It’s all I can do not to scream and beg him to stop.

A strange thing is happening, though. Even in the midst of the pain, there’s a tension, a

heaviness growing deep in my core, and it’s not entirely unpleasant. But my bottom is raw, and

agony flies through me again each time the strap cracks on my skin. I’m burning up, crumpling

under the assault, but still a part of me is floating in a strange way I’ve never felt before.

A couple of harder strokes bring me to the edge of desperation and I scream, so loud and

shrill it grates even my nerves. Again and again I shriek as the strap rakes my skin, until

dizziness sets in.

I’m so far gone, I don’t even realize he’s stopped until my arms are released and he catches

me as my weary body sags. He holds me against him, and there’s no fight left in me. Not even a

desire to fight. I belong to him now and we both know it. He hoists me into his arms and carries

me around the bed to lay me gently on the soft covers.

Another kind of fire ignites when he strokes my hair and throat, then runs his hand down

over my breasts.

Yes, that would work. Maggie had to rein in harsh breathing and the tension of

arousal as she put away the papers and pen.

She was a little late getting back from lunch, but no one commented on it. The first

thing she did that evening when she got home was to change into the thong panties.

The silk felt wonderful against her skin, the little bit of skin it actually covered. A surge

of elation shot through her. She felt daring and sexy. Even a bit naughty. Boring old

Maggie was stepping into a new reality. She wore her shortest skirt and silkiest blouse

over the only sexy bra she owned, a confection of pink and white lace.

Secret Santa Sir

She could barely eat any dinner. Her stomach heaved and roiled with a

combination of fear and excitement. Last night had helped calm some of her trepidation

but roused more in other ways. Writing down her fantasies had turned her on and

terrified her at the same time. How could she possibly want all that? How would he

react to her writing? Would he be turned-off or turned-on?

She’d never guessed she would ever do something like this… Something so daring.

The quiet chuckle barely made it out. When she decided to step out of her safe zone, she

did it in a big way.

A mystery lover!
Wouldn’t that shock her friends and family?
She was still grinning about it when she got to the hotel room door and put the

mask on. But while she waited for him to answer her knock, she remembered who her

mystery lover might well be. By the time the lock clicked and the panel slid open, all

traces of her smile were gone, replaced by fear and doubt.

He guided her into the room with a gentle hand on her arm, steering her toward the

chair she’d occupied the previous night.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come again.” The voice had that strange, muffled quality

again, but she knew it anyway. Most likely he realized she knew, but this saved face for

both of them if it didn’t work out, so she didn’t challenge it. “It took courage to

continue. Especially for you.”

“Why especially for me?”
“You’ve never done anything this risky before, have you, Maggie?”
“No,” she admitted.
“And it is risky,” he said. “This kind of relationship requires a high level of trust

between the players. On both sides. There are risks for each of us. And you have no

reason to believe you can trust me.”

She heard him moving around the room, the squeak of a corkscrew, the sound as

the cork slid out of the bottle and the tinkling chime of liquid being poured into a glass.

The fruity aroma of the wine reached her nose as a glass was placed into her hand. The

wine was a sweeter one than the previous evening’s, cool and tangy on her tongue.

“You have something for me?” he asked after she’d had a couple of sips.
“The sheets are in the bag.” She nodded toward where she’d set it down beside the

chair.

“May I read them?”
Surprise silenced her for a moment before she answered, “I wrote them for you.”
“But they’re still your private fantasies. You have to be willing to share them.”
“Read them. Please.”
“Okay.” She got a whiff of his fragrance, spicy and masculine, when he bent near

her to get them, then papers crinkled as he pulled them out of the bag.

Katherine Kingston

The room went very quiet while he read. Maggie held onto her wineglass, taking

periodic sips. She could hear his breathing and the rustle as he turned a page. Her

pussy tightened and swelled as she thought about the words she’d written. Still, the

nerves remained. What would he think about it?

She didn’t have to wait too long. After a few minutes, he said, “Thank you. This is

helpful.”

“You’re not…”
“Turned-on by them. Oh, yes, I am. Very.” His breath caught, proving his words.

“Would you like to hear some of my favorite fantasies of the last few months?”

“Definitely.”
“This is one of them, then.”

Maggie Marino is draped facedown across my bed, wearing nothing but her lovely dark hair

and a fiery blush. Some of the blush is on her face, but more of it is on her backside, the result of

the spanking I’ve just administered. She’s breathing hard and hopes that we’re done, but we’re

not. Not at all. I just need to rest my arm for a moment. The other instruments I plan to use are

waiting on a table nearby—a strap, a flogger and a willow rod. I pick up the strap and smack it

across her beautiful bottom. It prints a wide, pink welt. Maggie groans and wiggles a bit when

the leather cracks against her bottom. In fact, she continues that all through the next eleven

lashes of the strap. By the time I’m done with it, her bottom has gone from pale-pink to nicely

rose-colored. The flogger seems like a relief to her at first. Its bite is more subtle and the burn

takes longer to build up. After a couple of dozen strokes, however, she’s sobbing and writhing,

but it’s difficult to tell what causes the motion. No doubt she feels some pain, but I can see the

slick evidence of arousal glistening on her thighs and pussy. I set aside the flogger and deliver a

dozen quick slices with the willow rod. Each cut leaves a narrow livid weal in its wake and

Maggie groans and moans with each one. By the time I finish she’s sobbing.

I toss aside the switch and lay down beside her, pulling her into my arms for a long, deep

kiss. Then I set about kissing and licking every welt, every pink inch of her until she’s shaking

with desire for me.

He stopped and drew a long, deep breath. “That’s just one of mine. I recently got

some new exercise equipment and immediately thought of several creative ways we

could use it. In fact, I’ve considered the possibilities of just about every piece of

furniture in my home. My desk would look wonderful with you bent over it, the leather

sofa presents many glorious ideas, even the patio furniture has some interesting

potential.”

Maggie’s imagination fired with some of those possibilities. Sunbathing in the nude

on a private patio while he rubbed her all over with tanning oil—even the bottom he’d

spanked shortly before…

“I can see you have some ideas about it too,” he said. “Let me tell you more about

my fantasies. They center around a special woman. A beautiful, loving woman who is

Secret Santa Sir

strong and independent herself, but who is willing to be submissive to her man,

sexually, and possibly in other ways as well. She’s adventurous but not reckless. A

woman who’ll let me play with her—tie her up, spank, flog and whip her, a woman

who will obey when I tell her to kneel at my feet, touch me all over, even suck my cock.

A woman who will trust that I won’t hurt her more than she can handle and will

understand that I’ll respect her boundaries.”

Maggie listened and thrilled, knowing that he wanted her in that role. And she

wanted it too. She thought. At the least she wanted to try it. On the surface, at least, it

looked like a good fit.

A doubt niggled in the back of her mind, though. He hadn’t said anything about

love or caring for each other. Surely that had to be at least a part of any sexual

relationship? Or maybe he thought it went without saying? He had mentioned

“respect”. It was a start, anyway. And he’d also said “no commitments”.

All of those thoughts fled when he said, “Stand up and unbutton your blouse.”
Maggie drew in a long breath and stood. Her fingers shook as she worked the

buttons free and let it hang open. Thank heaven she’d worn her nice bra. His breath

hitched and voice wobbled when he said, “Take it off.”

She shook the blouse off her shoulders and let the fabric slide down her arms. She

folded it but then couldn’t figure out what to do with it. He took it from her and

apparently set it down somewhere before he came back. He moved around behind her.

His arms went around her from behind. His breath tickled the back of her neck

while he cupped her breasts in his hands. The warmth of his palms seeped through the

thin, lacy fabric of her bra. He squeezed lightly, then his thumbs brushed down the

upper slope, slowly, slowly making their way toward her nipples. She jumped and

squealed when they reached their destination. The touch sent shocking tingles from the

site of contact ripping all the way into her core.

When he kept up the brushing motion back and forth over the sensitive tips, she

moaned and leaned back against him. He was solid, strong warmth supporting her. Her

pulse sped up as heat spread through her, and her breath got harsher.

Disappointment surged when his hands left her breasts, but then it turned to

excitement as she felt him working the hooks of the bra loose. Once they released, he

slid the straps down off her shoulders, his fingers leaving trails of fire on her skin

wherever he touched. She shivered as air swirled against the sensitive, newly bared

flesh.

His lips fluttered, soft and warm, against the side of her throat as he trailed a series

of kisses across her shoulder. His palms flattened against her breasts, rubbing in gentle

circles. Her breath caught and came out as a sob. Jolts of electricity zipped along her

nerves. She’d never been so hot, so tense and needy.

Time stood still as she sank into a world that contained only herself and her

mystery lover. It centered in her body, which he was playing like a fine instrument,

evoking the most exquisite and amazing sensations.

Katherine Kingston

She was so lost in it, she didn’t know how to react when he stopped, except by

groaning her disappointment. He chuckled at her reaction. “It’s not easy for me, either.

But we have something else to do. First, though…” He handed her the wineglass and

encouraged her to take a drink.

Once she’d done that, he took the glass again and put something else into her hand.

The strip of wood was flat, about an inch wide, and maybe a foot long. A ruler,

probably, but it was a hard wood, good quality and heavy. Her stomach jolted as she

realized what it was for.

“Take your skirt off,” he told her as he took the strip of wood back from her.
She undid the button and zipper, and let the skirt slide off her hips and fall to the

floor. His sharp breath echoed around the room as she stood before him in only shoes

and the tiny pink thong. Maggie sucked her tummy in, embarrassed about those extra

five pounds she’d put on in the last couple of years.

“Lovely,” he said, failing to notice the extra weight. “You’re beautiful and will be

even more so shortly.”

The sound of cloth brushing against cloth suggested he’d sat down, a supposition

confirmed a moment later when he drew her down across his legs, flipping her so that

her stomach was against the fabric of his trousers over his thighs.

The thong left her bottom cheeks bare to his touch…and whatever else he chose to

do. He didn’t keep her waiting long. Something smooth and hard smacked down on the

vulnerable flesh, spreading a shocking sting. Maggie flinched but didn’t move off his

lap. To her surprise, he rubbed the wood over her bottom for a moment and the pain

dissipated quickly, though it left a small curl of heat that worked its way deep into her.

The ruler lifted. The second spank was a little harder and the smart a bit brighter.

As the spanking continued, slap after slap of that hard wood, with occasional

intermissions when it caressed instead of spanked, the sting took longer to fade. Her

bottom began to burn with a deeper, broader fire that grew harder to bear. She moaned

and even wriggled as he swatted harder. She wanted it to stop, didn’t think she could

tolerate even one more. At the same time it was sending a warm, pleasantly tight, tingly

feeling into her womb and pussy. Her core swelled along with her backside.

It hurt, though, enough that she began to moan and squeal. The flesh of her ass felt

grated, sore and very tender. She wanted it to stop. Maybe. That pain was bringing her

a wonderful clenching tension that made her pussy ache with need.

And knowing that this man wanted to be her Master enough to do this made it even

more imperative she bear whatever he would give.

It was affecting him too. In this position, with her tummy bouncing on his thighs,

his hard cock strained at the fabric of his trousers and nudged her. The feel of it made

her hotter yet. Her bottom throbbed in time with her racing pulse and ragged breathing.

Sensation flooded her, overwhelmed her. Pain and pleasure mingled and mixed so

thoroughly she could barely tell which was which, except for the few agonizing

moments after the wooden strip blasted her sore bottom. Then it faded into a burn that

Secret Santa Sir

was heat and sting and fire and desire and tense wanting. She sank into it, let it take her

where it would even as her body jolted with each smack and long groans leaked out.

Then it stopped and she was almost disappointed. But he ran a gentle hand over the

rough, grated skin, and that sent a new river of heat through her veins. Her moans

expressed pure pleasure now, getting more frantic and urgent when his fingers dipped

down into her crack and stroked over the narrow fabric strip of the thong.

She wriggled frantically as the heat blazed higher, threatening to engulf her in

flame. Need, desire, heat, wanting swallowed her up.

Then he stopped and grew very still.
“As much as I want to continue,” he said, “I don’t think we should go any further

tonight.”

“It’s all right… Please, don’t—”
“No.” He said it sharply. “No more tonight. Argue with me and I’ll have to spank

you again, and trust me, you won’t enjoy a second one nearly as much.”

She shivered, chilled and thrilled by the harsh tone, even though every nerve-

ending in her body cried out for more of his touch. “Yes Sir,” she said, putting as much

submissive humility as she could into the words.

He helped her roll off his lap and stand, steadying her when she wobbled, then he

drew her against him. Warmth from his body folded around her. The immediate

pressure of arousal faded, but the longing for more just grew.

He had other plans, however. “Dream on what happened here tonight. Tomorrow

night will be harsher, but the reward will be sweeter. I’ll see you here. Same time. Are

you okay to drive?”

Maggie drew a deep breath. She was tempted to lie just to see what he’d do about

it, but she respected their budding relationship and didn’t. “I had less than a glass of

wine. I’m a bit shaky right now, but it has nothing to do with alcohol.”

“In pain?”
It surprised her to realize she wasn’t. The sting in her bottom had faded just

moments after he stopped spanking and she could barely feel it now. The heat and

tension it brought was hanging around longer. “No. Not at all.”

“Okay. Tomorrow. Same time. Same place.” He dropped one last kiss on her lips

and escorted her to the door.

Maggie made it home with no trouble. She headed for her bedroom to examine her

bottom. She couldn’t believe the only evidence of the spanking was a faint pink flush.

No actual marks showed. Why did that disappoint her?

* * * * *

Katherine Kingston

Elation mixed with frustration when she was gone. The frustration was purely

because she wasn’t there anymore, and his balls ached with the need to bury himself in

the soft, sweet depths of Maggie Marino.

Instead he took his need in his own hands again, beating off while remembering

how sweetly pink her bottom got, the lovely raised welts and the moisture at her slit

that showed the way it turned her on.

Her fantasies thrilled him. So wonderfully perfect. Just what he wanted too. The

way she reacted to his kisses. That sweet mouth. The beautiful breasts. The promise of

the glories hidden between her legs, waiting for him to explore.

He groaned long and loud as the orgasm engulfed him. And still he wanted her so

badly he ached with it.

It was only later that he started to worry again about how she’d react when she

knew it was him.

Secret Santa Sir

Chapter Four

Day Three—Friday, Dec. 15

Maggie got to work early again on Friday. She had a Secret Santa gift of her own to

deliver, though it was just a mundane ornament for the Christmas tree of the

accounting clerk whose name she’d drawn. She was eager to see what might be

awaiting her. The area where most of the office workers had their cubicles was quiet

and apparently empty when she arrived. After putting her gift on the clerk’s desk, she

hurried on to her own cubicle eager to find what awaited.

What she found shocked her. Nothing. No stray packages, boxes or bags sat on her

desk, chair or anywhere nearby. It was the most unexpected thing of all and

ridiculously disappointing. For the rest of the morning, every time she left her desk, she

returned wondering if something might appear, but it didn’t happen.

In fact, she didn’t find anything until she got in her car to go to lunch. On the front

passenger seat, a shiny silver bag dripped red tissue paper over its sides. She got in the

car and watched it for a moment before fishing in the depths of paper.

A box at the top held a pretty silver hair clip that would go nicely in her dark hair

and a piece of paper.

On the first day of Christmas, my Master gave to me, an outlet for my fantasy.
On the second day of Christmas, my Master gave to me, two pink ass cheeks, and a start to

the fantasy.

On the third day of Christmas my Master gave to me, a three-tailed strap, two pink ass

cheeks and a way to explore my fantasy.

I’ll see you this evening, same time, same place.

Below the brief note, a soft cloth pouch filled the bottom of the paper bag. The

aroma of good leather teased her nose even before she opened the drawstring holding

the cloth into a pouch. She drew out a rolled strip made of several thicknesses of leather

sewn together, two inches wide. Unrolled it was around eighteen inches long, and the

last six inches split into three tails. There was no mistaking its purpose.

After looking around to be sure no one was watching, Maggie drew the length

through her hands several times, reveling in the smooth, slick surface. How would it

feel, smacking against her skin? Given the weight of the strap, she suspected it would

burn like crazy. She was so nuts to want to feel it.

Katherine Kingston

And hadn’t he said that tonight he would be harsher? Could she bear it? But the

reward would be greater too. Would they go all the way tonight? Would she finally

have her supposition about his identity confirmed?

She ate lunch in a fog and had trouble concentrating at work. Since it was a Friday

afternoon and just a week and a half before Christmas, she wasn’t alone in that. A good

thing no one knew where her mind wandered.

At one point, Sean passed by on his way to a cubicle where one of the data-entry

clerks was having a problem with her computer. He didn’t smile or wave or even look

her way at all. She followed him with her eyes anyway. Unfortunately, Laura from

Sales Support chose that moment to approach.

“Knock. Knock. Earth to Maggie.” Maggie swung around to face her but the other

woman had already seen where her attention had drifted. “He’s hot in a nerdy kind of

way, isn’t he?” Laura said. “Nice body, good ass. Face is okay. Attitude sucks, though.”

“Yeah, I know.” Maggie sighed. “What’s up?”
“Double-checking plans for the Christmas party. I hope I haven’t missed anything.

I’ve got Hoffman and Wills on board for catering…” She went on at considerable

length, distracting Maggie for the next hour.

By four o’clock she couldn’t take it anymore and left work early. Christmas

shopping at a department store helped pass the time. The new bras she bought weren’t

on her list, however. Nor were they terribly practical, especially the so-sheer-it-was-

barely-there one with the gold-lace edging. Of course, she had to have matching

panties…

Her stomach created even more uproar than usual on the way to the hotel that

evening. By the time she got there, she was laced tighter than Scarlett O’Hara’s corset.

As usual he answered her knock promptly, escorted her into the room and

provided her with a glass of wine. “I see you’re wearing the hair thingie,” he said. “Did

you bring your other gift?”

She drew in a deep breath, tinged with the aroma of a pleasant Zinfandel. “Yes, of

course.”

“Good. I know you’re nervous, so let’s just get it over with. Stand up and strip to

your bra and panties.” He waited while she did so. His breath hitched in sharply when

she removed the light sweater, revealing the sexy new bra she’d bought, but he didn’t

say anything until after she’d kicked off her shoes and let the slacks slide down her

hips.

“This is going to be a different sort of spanking. Harder. Harsher. With no breaks.

I’m going to use the tawse I gave you, and it’s a fairly heavy strap. You understand

from the start that you’re accepting this because you need it, you want it and you want

to bear it as a gift to me. You remember your safe words?”

“Yes Sir. Red light and yellow light.”

Secret Santa Sir

“Good. Use them if you need them. Otherwise, no screaming. You can moan, groan,

cry, squeal or yelp, whatever you need to do to bear it, but if you scream loud enough

for others to hear, I’ll have to stop it and I won’t be happy about it. Otherwise, I’ll stop

when I’m ready. You can ask me to stop, even beg, but unless you use the safe words, I

won’t stop until I feel like it’s time.” He paused for a moment. “You understand all

that?”

“Yes Sir.” The words came out quietly, barely more than a breath.
“Good. I want you bend over the desk.” He guided her to it and helped her position

herself so that she stood at one end of the desk, resting her stomach, chest and head on

the surface, with arms reaching up over her head to grasp the far edge of it.

“Stay like that and don’t let go,” he warned.
Maggie hoped she could do it. She hoped she could stand it. Shivers ran up and

down her spine as she waited.

Then she heard the whiz of leather cutting air followed by the crack of it hitting its

target. She jumped and squealed in shock at the blast of pain that exploded in her

bottom. Another followed quickly, then another. After only a few strokes her bottom

burned fiercely. She’d been right about the strap. It delivered a heavy blow. The steady

beat of it lit a fire that flashed through her in a tide of agony and excitement.

It was painful well beyond the light spankings he’d delivered before, and it was

much harder to bear. It jarred and jolted her repeatedly, but within all that it thrilled her

in a strange, almost devastating way.

He kept up a deliberate, steady rhythm, lashing her bottom and the tops of her

thighs. The smacks weren’t as hard as they could be, but the heft of the strap made force

unnecessary. Each time it landed, it painted a ribbon of pure fire.

The blaze raged around and through her, engulfed her, and she gave herself up to

it. She moaned and yelped, struggling to bear the fiery kiss of the leather. Her insides

felt twisted up as edgy prickles of heat rushed through her.

He paused and she breathed a sigh of relief. Too soon. “Stand up and take off the

bra and panties,” he ordered. “Then get back in position.”

The hard, no-nonsense tone thrilled her, tightened the clenched muscles in her core.

She followed instructions.

The fire in her rear end had eased somewhat during the short break, but he began

spanking again hard, deliberately and without mercy, and he soon had it blazing again.

Her breath came in shallow, harsh pants and she couldn’t draw in enough air. How

much longer could she bear it? She didn’t want to, but she might have to use a safe

word. Her bottom throbbed, ached, burned almost past bearing. She desperately

wanted to reach back and rub, but he’d told her not to let go of the edge of the desk.

A couple of harder strokes licked the grated, raw skin into raging agony. Maggie

wriggled and even kicked, squealed and groaned. She couldn’t bear any more. But even

as the pain grew, so did the exciting tension deep in her gut that pushed through to her

core. Her pussy swelled and moisture slipped down her thighs.

Katherine Kingston

Another slap of the leather—the hardest lash yet—sent shockwaves through her.

She opened her mouth to say the word, but shut it again when she felt a gentle hand

caress the hot, raw flesh. Almost instantly the grating burn in her bottom turned into a

river of fiery pleasure that shot straight to her core. The welts and sore spots sensitized

her skin even further, magnifying his lightest rub into a gorgeous caress. Without

thinking about it, she shifted her legs apart to give his hands access to the place she

most wanted him to touch.

She groaned in pleasure when his fingers brushed down over the backs of her

thighs, rubbing sore, sensitive flesh. When they moved toward the center of her thighs,

she sobbed. Need was a tide, drowning her in its demand for more.

But his hands moved away. Her cry of disappointment drew a chuckle from him.

“We’re not done,” he told her. “But you’ll be more comfortable on the bed.”

That was true enough. She let him help her up off the slick, hard surface of the desk

and guide her to the bed. He must have pulled back the covers since she felt the weave

of sheets when he lowered her to it. Hands covered her breasts and fingers explored the

nipples, circling and rubbing. A surge of hot, sweet tingles spread from the area of

contact. If her body were an instrument, he played it like a Master.

She could die happy if he’d just keep that up for a while longer. But he didn’t. After

a few minutes, he moved his hands off her breasts to skim over her belly and brush

down her pubic hair to her pussy. Maggie moaned deep in her throat when gentle

fingers stroked her labia. God, it felt like heaven.

She wished she could see the man who gave her this amazing pleasure. How did he

feel about the reaction he caused? What was in his eyes? His aroma, a combination of

deep spicy fragrance and male essence, engulfed her.

He explored the tops of her thighs and all the sweet flesh of her slit until she was

throbbing uncontrollably. Tension grew like an expanding bubble deep in her core, a

beautiful bubble of overwhelming pleasure. Then he found the exquisitely sensitive

center of her. He brushed over and over her clit, each pass inflating the bubble a bit

more until she knew she couldn’t hold it much longer. Her fingers wrapped folds of the

sheets and held on tight as her breath came in gasping pants.

He rubbed harder, faster and shocked her by grasping one of her nipples and

pinching.

The bubble expanded, filled her and burst in a glorious explosion of stars and fire

and pleasure beyond anything she’d ever felt before. Her moan was loud, long and

trailed off slowly into a series of sobbing breaths.

He waited until her breath had started to slow as she came down from the high

before he said, “Now you know what an orgasm feels like.”

“You’re right.” She had a hard time speaking with her pulse racing and breath still

heaving. “I’ve never felt anything like that before. That’s not all there is, though,” she

said. “I can feel it. There’s more.”

Secret Santa Sir

“There is. You still have things to learn. A lot of them. One lesson coming very

soon. I want you to undress me. But keep the blindfold on. I’ll help you if you need it.”

A little curl of heat and excitement rose inside Maggie, reviving from the fire that

had died down with the after-effects of that amazing orgasm. She got to touch him.

Even though seconds ago she’d felt wrung out, drained dry and reluctant to move,

energy revived with his demand. She wanted to do more than just touch, but it did offer

the chance to know something more about him.

She reached out for him, guessing where the top of his shirt would be by the

direction of his voice. Her fingers landed on his shoulder, but he took her hand and

guided it to the top button of his dress shirt. In doing so, her palm brushed briefly

against his throat and the warmth of it triggered a few sparks between them.

He wasn’t wearing a tie. Working by feel alone, she undid the buttons of his shirt.

He wore no undershirt either, so when she pushed the edges of fabric apart, she could

rub a hand down his chest, through the light, coarse hair and over hard muscle beneath

the flesh. Grabbing one front edge of the shirt, she worked it off his shoulder, pushing it

down over strong triceps and biceps, then she tackled the other side. He moved as

needed to make it easier for her to get the garment off him. They weren’t the most

graceful moves she’d ever made, but after some wrestling, the shirt came off and

dropped somewhere beside him.

Before she tackled his pants, she ran the palms of both hands over his chest, circling

the hard pectoral muscles and moving in toward the small, male nipples. His breath got

louder in the quiet room, caught harshly, then sped up. Touching him confirmed some

of what he’d told her in the first note. His body was that of a man in his prime, with

solid muscles, broad shoulders and a hard, flat stomach. The skin was smooth and firm

where there wasn’t hair.

He groaned when she circled his nipples with her fingertips, then traced them

down to the waistband of his trousers. She fumbled a bit with his belt, but got it open

without assistance, undid the button of his pants and slid down the zipper. In doing so,

her hand brushed against the hard length of his straining cock, contained still by the

cotton briefs.

“A moment,” he said and turned away. She felt his movement and heard the thunk

of what was likely his shoes hitting the floor. The bed rocked some more, so his socks

must have gone at the same time. He turned back to her, but when she reached for him

again, she realized he was now kneeling on the bed beside her. It made it easier to slide

the trousers down his thighs. She could have taken the briefs at the same time, but she

was enjoying this too much to speed it up that way.

Maggie put one tentative hand on his thigh, right above the knee, and slowly

rubbed upward. She felt his body tighten in response, muscles getting hard. He groaned

as she neared the top then brushed down the hairy surface again. The second time she

went up, the tips of her fingers lightly caressed the cotton-clad balls for a moment. He

muttered, “Oh my God,” as his breath grew into harsh pants.

Katherine Kingston

She slipped her right hand beneath the waistband of the briefs and let her fingertips

work around until they just met his cock. She kept her left hand poised just below his

balls, making occasional quick forays to brush here and there around the heavy sac,

alternating with light touches on his shaft.

He tolerated it for a few minutes before he growled, “Stop teasing, woman. I’m

dying here.”

Maggie chuckled. “Just fair that I should get to torture you for a bit, don’t you

think?”

“I’m the Master here,” he said, his outrage clearly fake. “You want another

spanking?”

“Not just yet,” she admitted.
In acquiescence, she reached for the waistband of his briefs and tugged them down,

lifting the cotton out and over the jutting shaft. The aroma of pure male essence

surrounded her and connected with something deep inside herself. Waves of longing,

not just physical, rolled through her.

She reached for him and wrapped her hand around his cock. Velvety soft skin over

a hard shaft felt like a miracle. Her fingers ranged up and down it, testing the different

textures of it, lingering around the exquisite tip, tracing the rim below, memorizing

those places that made him jump or groan.

“Moment,” he said on gasping breaths. “Can’t take much more.” He moved to lie

beside her on the bed, then took her hand and placed it on his cock again. She rolled to

her side to get a comfortable grip and began to knead the flesh, circling it with her

fingers again and rubbing up and down.

“A little harder,” he suggested through clenched teeth.
She squeezed tighter and put her free hand on his balls, caressing them while she

stroked up and down on his cock. His breathing got faster and harsher, becoming a

series of groans. His entire body started to buck in time with the throbbing in his cock, a

rhythm she tried to match. Her strokes grew faster and harder, and faster yet, until he

froze for a moment, jerked several times and she felt the wet warmth of his seed spilling

on his stomach and over her hand.

When the spasms finished, they lay together for a few quiet moments. He drew her

closer and she rested her head on his shoulder. She could hear and feel the beat of his

heart and the slowing rasp of his breath. Emotions stirred in her heart, uncertain and

not necessarily welcome. She wasn’t sure she wanted to feel anything for this man. She

wasn’t even sure she liked him. But that might not matter.

After a while, he stirred, sighed and rolled over away from her. “Stay there for a

moment,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” She heard water running in the bathroom, then

he returned and used a washcloth soaked in warm water to clean the sticky residue

from her hands.

Secret Santa Sir

She heard him moving around and various sounds suggesting he was dressing

again. Finally he came back to the bed and sat on the edge. “Are you all right?” he

asked.

“All right? No, I’m not all right.”
“What—?”
“I’m fantastic! Wonderful. I’ve never felt this great before.”
“Oh. Good. Your bottom’s not too sore?”
“Barely feel it now. I probably won’t even have any marks.”
“You sound disappointed,” he said.
“I guess I am. Sort of. I mean I couldn’t have taken much more, but there’s a part of

me that wants to have a…reminder of what happened.”

He hesitated briefly. “That’ll come. If we decide to continue. It’s time to get

dressed.” He’d rounded up her clothes and helped her stand and get them on again.

Once she was dressed, he asked, “Can you sit, you think?”

“Sure.”
He guided her to a chair. “We need to talk for a few minutes before you go.”
“Okay.”
“Tomorrow is Saturday. I’d like to do something different. No sex, no punishment.

In fact, I want a traditional, old-fashioned date with you. If you’re okay with that?”

“What did you have in mind?”
“I thought an afternoon at the Aquarium and Harbor, dinner and maybe a movie?”
“Sounds like fun. But, I can’t wear a blindfold for all that.”
“No. It’s time to open up. For you to know who I am.”
“Okay.”
“Good. Since we won’t be working tomorrow, I have something for you to take

with you. But don’t open it until nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Before she left the room, he drew her into his arms and kissed her on the mouth,

nudging up the bottom of the scarf, but not enough to let her see him.

* * * * *

When she’d left the room, he poured the rest of the wine into a glass and downed it

quickly, then sat in the chair, thinking, wrestling with his fear.

He’d never seen anything in his life as beautiful as Maggie, flushed, needy and

aroused, writhing under his hand as she sailed toward orgasm.

He wanted her so badly he could taste it, feel it, see it. He wanted her submission,

taking his orders and accepting his discipline. He wanted to be the only Master she

answered to. But he wanted more from her.

Secret Santa Sir

Chapter Five

Day Four—Saturday, Dec. 16

Maggie usually slept until eight or nine on Saturday mornings, but not that

weekend. She woke at seven thirty. It took all her willpower to keep from opening the

bag he’d given her before the designated time of nine o’clock. She tried to distract

herself with cleaning and laundry, both normal Saturday tasks. They kept her hands

busy, but her mind couldn’t seem to escape the lure of the gold gift bag stuffed with red

tissue paper.

She didn’t cheat, however, and waited until her kitchen clock said one minute after

nine.

Near the top of the bag was the expected note.

On the fourth day of Christmas my Master gave to me, four chains to bind, a three-tailed

strap, two pink ass cheeks and an end to the mystery.

Maggie,
I hope the revelation isn’t too much of a disappointment to you. Meet me at one-thirty p.m.

at White’s Coffee Shop on 22

Street. I’ll be in the booth in the back right corner. Dress in nice

casual.

There was no signature. Digging in the bag, she found a square box about an inch

deep and three inches to a side. Holding her breath, she opened it cautiously. Sitting on

a layer of cotton were four silver chain bracelets. The links were a bit larger than

normal, but still delicately made, each in a slightly different shape and linked in a

variety of patterns. They could be worn separately or as a group on one wrist. Or on an

ankle.

They looked too ornate and delicate to actually use to bind her, so she assumed that

this time, at least, the meaning was more symbolic. If she wore them today, what did

that tell him? Probably not much more than her actual appearance at the shop would.

Next issue—what to wear? After some debate she settled on her best wool slacks, a

blue tee shirt and a darker blue sweater to go over it, with her most comfortable black

ankle boots.

The rest of the morning passed in slow motion, though she had a pile of chores to

get done. Her stomach twisted in a knot of apprehension and excitement. If it really was

who she thought it was, how could it possibly work? Would he look different now? It

Katherine Kingston

would be good to know for sure, but no matter who it was, there were issues to

confront and resolve.

She got to the coffee shop a few minutes before one thirty, but he was there, sitting

in the rear right corner, waiting for her. His expression didn’t change when she joined

him at the table.

“How long have you known?” Sean asked.
“I was pretty sure by the second night,” Maggie answered.
“Voice?”
“Mostly. And height and build.”
He nodded. “And you’re still interested?”
“I’m here,” she pointed out.
For the first time a small smile curled his lips and shined in his light-blue-gray eyes.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he admitted. “I had the impression you might not even like

me. I’m…I’m not the easiest person. I think I intimidate people.”

“You think?”
He shrugged. “My social skills are…not well developed. I know that. Would you

believe I’m trying to do better?”

Maggie was tempted to make a snide remark about working smarter not harder,

but a glance at his expression changed her mind. “Yes, I believe it,” she said.

“Do you want some coffee?” he asked. “I could use a cup.”
“Yes, please. Cream, two sugars.”
She watched him cross the store and get in the short line. The man was one big,

walking mass of contradictions. A loner at work, growly and short tempered. A

masterful lover who still managed to be amazingly gentle and considerate. Not exactly

handsome, but attractive and compelling nonetheless. Good posture, nice body, lean

but strong and graceful in movement. Less graceful in dealing with other people.

Despite the good looks, he was socially awkward, reclusive and geeky. A man who

could write those notes to her, pick out gifts like the bracelets she wore on her left wrist

and still blister her rear end. A hard and intimidating exterior hiding… She wished she

knew what was beneath it.

But that was why she was here, wasn’t it? To find out who the man really was. And

whether there might be anything between them but sexual chemistry, if the sexual

chemistry could survive the end of the mystery.

She was taking several pretty big risks here. This was one weird situation. She was

in serious lust with a man she didn’t know well, and up until a few days ago, had

disliked. When she wasn’t indulging wild fantasies about him. So maybe he wasn’t the

only one with a few contradictions.

He returned with the coffees and sat down. “Have you decided anything yet?”
“No. I’m awaiting developments.”

Secret Santa Sir

“I’m on my best behavior.” He grinned as he set several packets of sugar in front of

her, along with a stirrer, but the smile faded. “I don’t know if my best behavior is good

enough.”

“It’s impressive enough that you’re trying. Sean, I know that’s what people do on

dates—try to impress the other person with how wonderful they are. At least initially.

But dating is really about getting to know the other person, the real person, not a

façade.”

He nodded and watched as she put sugar in the coffee. He took a slow sip from his

own cup, his expression carefully neutral, before he answered. “There’s no point in my

trying to impress you with how wonderful I am, anyway. You already know I’m not.”

“I know that you’re a complicated man, with a crusty surface. After the last few

evenings, I’m not sure I know exactly what’s beneath that surface, but I think it’s

something more interesting than just the gruff persona you show at work.”

An odd half grin flashed on his face, real and with a disarming show of

vulnerability for a man who generally hid behind the thick armor of irascibility.

“‘Interesting’? I guess that’s a reasonable start.” His expression grew more serious. “I

appreciate that you’re giving this a chance.”

She studied him for a minute. His dark-blond hair curled back from his forehead.

He’d shaved that morning and was neatly dressed in khakis and a brick-red sweater.

He hadn’t growled at her once since she’d arrived.

“You’re putting some effort into it too,” she pointed out.
“I think it could be worth it,” he admitted, then abruptly changed the subject.

“Since the point of this is getting to know one another, tell me about yourself—where

you grew up, went to school, what you studied. Hobbies?”

“Actually I’m kind of boring. Grew up in Frederick, went to UMD, degree in

Communication, spent a couple of years at an advertising agency, then got the job at

Morrison Avionics. Hobbies? If you mean stuff like stamp collecting and knitting, I

don’t really have any. I like reading, movies and sports, especially baseball. Around

here that probably makes me a masochist in more ways than one.”

“Orioles fan?” He laughed at that and Maggie found herself staring at him. It was a

real laugh, not a half grin or careful smile, and it changed everything about him, like

meeting someone you thought you knew and realizing he was a stranger.

“You ever go to a game at Camden Yard?” he asked.
“Occasionally. I’m not really big on going by myself. Sometimes when my family’s

in town.”

“I’m more of a Nationals fan,” he admitted, “Which isn’t much better.”
“Football?”
“Go Ravens,” she said.
“‘Hail to the Redskins’,” he quoted.
She sighed noisily. “Basic incompatibility there. But not insurmountable.”

Katherine Kingston

“No. In fact, I think we can at least count the sports as a connection point. What

kinds of movies do you like?”

“Comedies, romances, mystery, action flicks, sci fi, fantasy.”
“Another connection!” He grinned again, and it did something odd to her pulse.

She could get used to seeing him smile.

“How do you lean politically?” he asked.
“Republican, but I make it a point not to discuss politics or religion on the first

date.”

“Fair enough. Just so you know, Democrat and agnostic.”
“Got it. What about the rest?” she asked. “You know, where you were born, grew

up, et cetera.”

“Oh. Born in Topeka, Kansas. Family moved to Arlington when I was six and I

grew up there. Pre-med at Virginia but some things happened… And I decided I wasn’t

cut out to be a doctor. Computers are so much more cooperative than human beings.”

“They are? That’s not my experience.”
“Predictable, then.”
She nodded. “That I’ll buy.”
“You just have to know how to talk to computers. With people…” He shrugged and

let it hang as he took a last drink of coffee and put down the empty coffee cup. “Are

you ready to go? You want to leave your car here or have me follow you back to your

place?”

“Follow me back,” she said. “It’ll save time later.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur. After dropping her car at her apartment

complex, they drove to the harbor where they spent a couple of hours at the aquarium,

studying tanks of fish, sharks and other sea creatures. They both found the displays

fascinating and only left when they agreed their brains couldn’t handle any more input.

They walked around the harbor area and poked into a variety of interesting shops.

She helped him pick out gifts for his mother and sister, while she got some stocking

stuffers for nieces and nephews. They took the boat tour at dusk, watching the sunshine

fade over the horizon and the lights emerge. Christmas lights everywhere turned it into

a fairyland. By the end, when it was fully dark, they had a drink at a bar on the

waterfront, then walked to a nice restaurant nearby for dinner.

It was a magical day, with moments of astonishing beauty standing out like crystal

beads on a necklace. Turning to Sean on the boat to see his strong profile silhouetted

against the last rays of the setting sun, the beams picking out gold sparks in his hair.

Being captivated by the loveliness of a Christmas village display in one of the shops.

The aromas of a fruity red wine and a perfectly cooked rare steak at dinner. Holding

hands with him as they wandered the streets. Being enchanted by rows of trees wound

with dazzling strings of white lights.

Secret Santa Sir

And at the end of the evening, the most magical moment of all, when he pulled up

in front of her apartment and he got out to escort her to the door. He reached into the

backseat and took out another Christmas gift bag, which he handed her once she’d

found the key in her purse. Before she could unlock the door, though, he leaned

forward and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss went on for a while, sweet and hot, demanding, giving, taking and rousing

the pounding heat inside that craved his touch and wanted to become part of him.

When he put his arms around her to draw her closer, Maggie responded by pressing

against him and holding him around the waist. Apparently knowing his identity hadn’t

changed the way her body reacted to him.

When he drew back for a moment, she whispered, “Come in?”
He shook his head but kissed her again for another long, wonderful interval, before

he drew back and said, “Not tonight. Tomorrow. Will you come to my place and help

me decorate?”

“Just decorate?”
He shrugged and grinned. “Maybe some fun and games too.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll pick you up at two?”
She nodded.
He gestured to the bag. “Open this at ten tomorrow morning.” Then he pointed to

the door and waited while she opened it and entered. She went to the front window

and watched him go back to the car, get in and drive off.

She floated through her evening bedtime ritual. It wasn’t until she had the light out

and lay in the darkness that it occurred to her what a dangerous, potentially

devastating situation this was.

How could she have a crush on a man she wasn’t even sure she liked? Undoubtedly

she did, though. And after today she might not dislike him as much as she thought.

Certainly she’d seen another side of him.

What if she fell in love with Sean Dennison? He’d said “no commitments” and she

wasn’t sure she’d want to commit to the kind of relationship that seemed to be

developing between them, anyway. What did he really want? How long could it last?

All he’d offered was a chance to explore her fantasies. What did that mean?

And how could she avoid being devastated when it was over?

Katherine Kingston

Chapter Six

Day Five—Sunday, Dec. 17

Maggie had rolled around so much the previous night that she slept until after eight

in the morning. Again she found herself wanting to open the bag early, but she refused

to give into the temptation. Instead she let herself wallow in memories, from yesterday

and from the evenings before. Now she could at least put Sean in the central role.

What would the day bring? Decorating his apartment sounded like fun. What else

though? What kinds of fun and games would he have in mind? And how would it feel

when he spanked her now, knowing who was on the other end of the belt, giving the

orders, demanding her obedience. What would it be like to watch him, swing the strap

or whatever he used? How would it compare to her fantasies?

She showered, dressed, finished paying bills, emptying the dishwasher and folding

the rest of the laundry before the clock finally reached ten o’clock.

As usual, a note sat at the top.

On the fifth day of Christmas my Master gave to me, five leather belts. Four chains to bind,

three-tailed strap, two pink ass cheeks and a Master for the holidays.

Maggie—

Today is for fun and games. Not serious, not heavy, a chance to learn a bit more about who

we really are and what we want. Wear a skirt and sweater, the thong panties and no bra. Bring

the belts or wear them, whichever works best for you.

Sean

For the first time he signed his name on the note. Trying to visualize what might

happen that afternoon made her realize what a shrewd move it had been on his part to

have her wear the blindfold for the first few days. It was easier somehow, less personal,

to be spanked and touched by an impersonal, anonymous man, than by one she did

know, but not very well.

Still, thrills chased themselves up and down her spine at his directions concerning

the underwear she should don and the implications.

She dug in the bag beneath the note. Coiled into a fairly tight roll were five very

different leather belts. The largest was made from a group of densely, intricately woven

narrow black strips into a pattern that was almost three inches wide. It was heavy. The

most average looking was dark-brown, two strips of leather an inch wide sewn

Secret Santa Sir

together. Then there was a soft red suede belt two inches wide, a green one decorated

with studs and faux gemstones and finally one made from three independent blue

strips, each half an inch wide, sewn into a flat end with three separate buckles. The

three strips hung loose from that handle, reminding her of a flogger.

They’d been chosen with care, and they all fit her waist, though holding her skirt up

almost certainly wasn’t the main purpose he’d had in mind.

Again the time dragged until he picked her up at two that afternoon. Sean looked

casual and delicious in jeans, sneakers and a deep-blue Henley shirt under a brown

leather jacket. But the change from his work persona was more than just the casual

clothes. He appeared less uptight and aggressive. Not necessarily less tense, but it was a

different kind of tension. Or was it simply that she looked at him differently?

His apartment was a penthouse at the top of an eighteen-story building near the

edge of downtown. One wall of the living room had floor-to-ceiling windows along its

entire length, providing a nice view over the edge of the city. Otherwise, it looked neat

and clean but lived in, with comfortable and attractive furniture, a deep-pile rug over a

parquet floor and a gas fireplace. A neat stack of newspapers and magazines sat on a

table next to the recliner that faced the large flat-panel television on the opposite wall.

“Nice,” she said, moving over to the windows to check the view.
He joined her there. “I was lucky. I bought it from a friend’s dad at an amazing

price. He was moving to an assisted-living facility and needed to sell it fast. I’d just

gotten a small inheritance from a great-aunt, which along with some savings provided

the cash for a substantial down payment.”

Pine fragrance drifted from an undecorated fir tree that leaned against the wall to

their left. It sat in a stand, but the screws hadn’t been tightened as yet to set it up

straight.

Before they did anything else, he gave her a quick tour of the place, taking her

down a short hallway to the master bedroom and second bedroom that served as a

home office and exercise area. Both rooms were very neat, though the office had a long

table covered with computer components and electronics. On the other side of the

living room was a kitchen with dining area. Stainless-steel appliances, polished granite

countertops and copper-bottomed pots hanging from hooks above the island all

gleamed.

“You have a cleaning service?” she asked.
He nodded. “They come in once a week. Truth is, I’m basically pretty neat anyway.

Maybe even a little compulsive about it. Anyway… Now that you’ve seen the place, are

you ready to help decorate?”

“Sure.”
“Good.” He hesitated and then drew a breath. “One thing. Since all work is kind of

boring, I’m proposing we have regular breaks for play. I see you’re wearing one of the

belts. You brought the others?”

“In the bag.” She nodded to where she’d left the large bag she used as a purse.

Katherine Kingston

“Good. I hope you’re as eager to try them out as I am.”
“Depends what you had in mind.”
“I said nothing heavy. I’m thinking each hour, on the hour, a dozen swats with one

of them. We’ll give each of them a chance. That’s barely enough to warm your bottom.

And… I have some other ideas. I’m hoping… You’ll trust me enough to agree to obey

whatever orders or directions I give you this afternoon and evening.”

“And if I don’t?”
He shrugged but his face stiffened, just barely enough that she could tell. “Then

we’ll have fun decorating and breaking for play times.”

“Okay, but actually I meant what if I agree, but then I don’t obey an order.” She

made it deliberately provocative.

The light that had dimmed a moment before returned to his eyes, but his expression

remained stern. “You already know the answer to that. Don’t you?”

“Yes Sir.” She drew in a long breath and let it out. “I agree.”
“Good. Lay the belts out on the coffee table, including the one you’re wearing. It’s

quarter to three, so we have a few minutes before the first session. Let’s start with the

tree. It looks awfully sad sitting there in the corner, with nothing on.”

She placed the five belts, stretched out in parallel, along the table he indicated

before she turned her attention back to decorating. Working together, they got the tree

straightened in the stand and the screws tightened until it was standing up straight.

They moved it out of the corner so that it stood in front of the center window. Then

Sean pointed to the stacks of unopened boxes of lights, ornaments and tinsel. “I hope

you know how to do this,” he said. “I just bought what the woman at the store

suggested.”

Maggie was disentangling the second string of lights from the plastic it had been

wound around when an electronic beep drew her attention to Sean’s wrist. He reached

for his watch to still the sound. “I set it to remind of the time,” he said.

“Oh. What do you want me to do?
“Bend over the back of the couch.”
Because it was part of a conversation grouping in the middle of the living room,

there was plenty of space behind it, room for her to stand and lean over the back and for

him to move behind her and swing the strap.

The leather felt cool and sleek, the top of the back hit her right at hip level, so she

could lean over and rest her stomach there with her hands on the seat cushions. She

watched him study the selection of belts and choose the soft red suede one. She exhaled

on a wave of relief. That one, at least, wouldn’t hurt too much.

“Hike your skirt up,” he told her when he’d circled the couch and stood behind her.
Maggie shivered as she pulled the skirt up, baring her bottom, since she’d followed

his directions and worn the thong. This had been easier when she couldn’t see him.

Secret Santa Sir

Now she knew she was showing everything to Sean, and it terrified her. Plus, she could

look over and see him swing the belt back, then forward.

She closed her eyes as the strip of suede slapped her bottom. As expected the

suede’s bite was minimal. Though she felt the contact, that strip lacked the heft to cause

even the slightest sting. Each strike was more like a caress, a sweet brush of fabric over

the flesh. Like his hand, when it had smoothed over sore skin before.

He didn’t strike fast, but took his time, waiting between strokes.
It was actually a little disappointing. As soon as she thought it, she told herself it

was stupid. Worse would come. She should enjoy this pleasant sensation for now. He

made the strokes harder and finally a little bit of burn developed. She was so crazy to

want it to hurt more.

He stopped and she waited for him to rub, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “Stand up

and pull your skirt down.”

She did as he said.
“That wasn’t much, was it?” he asked.
“No.”
“Disappointed?”
She stared into his stern light-blue eyes. “A bit.”
He nodded. “The others will be harsher.”
“I know.”
“Looking forward to it?” A small, ironic grin curved his lips.
“In an odd, masochistic way, yes.”
“Good. Take the panties off now.”
She did as ordered, pulling down the tiny scrap of satin and setting it aside.
“How does it make you feel to be bare beneath the skirt?”
“A little odd. Strange. Exposed. But it’s freeing too. And it’s exciting because I’m

doing it for you.”

He nodded and looked pleased, but just said, “Let’s get back to the tree, shall we?”
It took them most of the next hour to get the lights on the tree. Neither of them had

much experience with decorating Christmas trees. Their ineptitude meant that their first

attempt ended with most of the lights clustered at the top and the bottom third of the

tree empty. The fact that he seemed distracted, peeking under her skirt whenever he

could, probably didn’t help.

“I guess we didn’t space them out very well,” Maggie said, sighing as she looked at

the tree.

“You think it would work better if we started at the bottom and worked up?” Sean

asked.

“Can’t be much worse.”

Katherine Kingston

“True.”
In the process of unwinding the lights, Maggie got herself thoroughly entangled in

the strings, until she could barely move. Sean laughed at her predicament. “Bondage in

Christmas lights. Now that’s a new one! Self-inflicted, no less.”

“Smart ass. Are you going to stand there and laugh at me, or do you want to get

your tree decorated?” Maggie asked.

“Tough decision. You look rather fetching wound up in the light cords. But I

suppose we’d better concentrate on the tree right now. And what’s with calling your

Master names?”

“I guess you’ll just have to punish me a bit extra for it,” she suggested.
“Good idea. We’ll do that later.” He managed to unwind the cords from around her

and then they restrung them on the tree. With more care this time and a few

adjustments, they got the lights placed in reasonably good order. After a triumphant

test lighting, they began to dig in the next set of boxes, pulling out glass balls in

assorted colors and sizes.

They’d just hung the first few when his watch chimed again. He set down the ball

he’d picked up and looked at her. “You know what that means. Go get in position.”

Maggie nodded and went to the couch. She watched him pick up the double-thick

brown leather belt this time as she hiked up her skirt and tucked it under her torso. He

moved behind and to the side, then measured the distance with a couple of feints.

When he pulled the belt back and swung it, the leather kissed her flesh with a loud

smack. A flash of stinging pain slashed across her buttocks. Maggie jumped and

squealed. It jolted her like a crash of thunder in her rear end, though the initial fire

settled into a tingling burn after a few seconds. The second stroke wasn’t as hard, but it

still cracked through her like an electrical shock. A third drew a squeal from her as she

struggled not to wiggle and kick.

He probably wasn’t swinging it all that hard, but the double thickness of leather

gave it a weight and heft that meant it bit deep even without much force behind the

blows. A couple more strokes and she was yelping with each. Her breath came faster

and her heart thundered. She doubted she could bear a dozen swats. Her butt was on

fire, the skin sore already.

But the spanks kept coming, not fast, not slow, but at a steady, rhythmic pace that

gave her just a moment to catch her breath before the next one blasted. She wanted to

reach back and rub the sore flesh, but when she lifted a hand to it, he said, “No rubbing

yet. Put your hand back down.”

Reluctantly she replaced her hand on the cushion of the couch. In punishment for

the unauthorized move, he swung the belt harder the next time. A crash of furious pain

blasted her. Maggie groaned roughly, low and anguished. She was still moaning when

the next blow landed. It wasn’t as hard, but it struck lower down, right at the spot

where thighs and buttocks met, a particularly sensitive area. A second blast right there

drew a low scream from her and had her rolling and writhing on the couch.

Secret Santa Sir

She didn’t realize it had stopped until she felt his hand caress the rough, aching

flesh of her bottom. And that was all it took to change the throbbing fire of pain into the

pulsing blaze of desire and arousal. Her next moan came from pure lust. He didn’t

indulge it. After a moment he stepped back and said, “You can rub for the next ten

seconds. Then you stand up and drop your skirt back.”

She took him at his word, rubbing the rough, itchy surface of her buttocks until he

tapped her to let her know time was up. By then the sting had subsided to just a faint,

background buzzing. Her swollen pussy still wanted more, but she stood up and let her

skirt slide down again.

As she stood, he turned her to face him and he studied her in silence for a moment

before he asked, “Not disappointed with that?”

“No. Not at all.”
“Too much?”
“No, not that either.”
He smiled and it relaxed his stern features into pleasant lines, lighting his icy-blue

eyes with hints of humor. “Good.”

She wanted to throw herself against him, drag him into her arms and rip his clothes

off, but she tamped it down. The bulge at the front of his jeans suggested he was just as

turned-on.

But he wasn’t indulging it. “Let’s get this tree decorated,” he suggested.
Over the next hour, they got the rest of the balls and other ornaments hung on the

tree. He’d bought boxes of assorted glass figures that included animals, birds and a set

of Biblical figures. She hung a Noah’s Ark near the top and a whale with a tiny Jonah in

his mouth in the middle, while the dove with the olive branch went close to the

window. They celebrated with sodas once those were done, before they tackled the

icicles.

Maggie considered the two boxes of icicles and decided they should really only

need one. “I’m pretty sure they’re meant to enhance the other ornaments, not bury

them.”

They were only a few minutes into the icicles when his watch buzzed again.

“Time,” he said. “You choose which one this time.”

It wasn’t an easy choice because none of them would be light. She finally picked up

the one with the three narrow strips and handed it to him. “Don’t tear me up too

badly,” she said, only half joking.

He shrugged. “Let’s see what this will do.”
Maggie got in position and waited. The three strips made a whizzing, almost

whistling, sound when he swung it, and they landed on her bottom with a series of

pops. Three very stinging pops. She squealed in surprise at how deeply the ends of the

three dug in. It felt like she’d been attacked by a squad of angry bees. The next ones

didn’t get any better.

Katherine Kingston

It was still more bearable than the previous heavy belt, which had a deeper more

echoing thud. These were more surface sting. But with more strokes, the burn in her

bottom grew into a hotter blaze than she’d felt before. She didn’t keep count, but by

around eight or so, the skin of her rear end felt raw and swelling, raging with

accumulated bites.

Still, as heat and sting clawed its way deep inside her, it transformed into

something else, a strange, tense pleasure that craved even more. More sting, more fire,

more of—Oh God—him. Sean. And what he did to her and with her.

She got so wrapped up in the amazing sensations and the man delivering them that

she again didn’t notice when he stopped until his hand was on her bottom again. He

rubbed more and harder this time.

“You have some nice welts from this,” he told her, brushing a finger along a

swelling sore spot, sending rivers of heat into her. Her pussy swelled with longing and

cream leaked from it, sliding onto her thighs. He leaned down and pressed his lips to

her bottom, then ran his tongue along one of the lines.

Maggie thought she might die from the pleasure, right there, leaning over his

couch. A small sob of pure joy leaked from her. To her disappointment, though, he

stopped a few minutes later and backed away again.

“Stand up,” he said, “and let’s get this blasted tree finished.”
She turned to face him. “It could wait a bit.”
One sandy eyebrow rose and a wry smile curved his lips. “You can wait a bit.”
“But I’d—”
He stopped her with a finger over her mouth. “You agreed to obey me, right?”
She drew a breath and said, “Yes. Sir.”
“This is what I want.”
“You’re sure?” She eyed the bulge at the front of his jeans.
“Trust me, it will be worth it.”
Trust him. His tone and expression said the words were meant to be taken seriously.

What surprised her most, though, was the realization that she did trust him. To take

care of her sexual satisfaction, at least. And her physical safety. No more than that,

though. She didn’t dare trust him with more. “All right.”

They finished putting the icicles on the tree and spread out a skirt beneath it before

they plugged in the lights. By then the daylight had faded into darkness. The living

room was lit only by the glow of a single lamp and the radiance leaking from the

kitchen and another room down the hall. Outside his windows, the city spread out

below, with a variety of extra colorful lights celebrating the season. Inside, the tree lit

his apartment with a shining warmth. It looked even better than she’d expected, with

the white lights reflecting multiple times off ornaments and icicles to give it a sweet,

cheerful glitter.

Secret Santa Sir

“This calls for some celebration,” Sean proclaimed. He went to the kitchen, got a

bottle of wine from the refrigerator and poured a glass for each of them. Before they

drank, he held up the wine toward her. “A toast to Christmas presents and new

beginnings.”

She smiled, though she wasn’t entirely sure she followed his meaning, and held up

her glass to clink against his. It sounded promising, though. Was he hinting he might be

interested in something more than just a Christmastime fling? Did she really want to

consider something more?

Yes. Maybe.
Scary thought, but still. Yes. They’d just begun to explore the possibilities, but

already she knew she liked it. Wanted more of it. Wanted it with him.

She studied him in the glow of the light from the tree. Until this past week, she’d

thought his face cold—hard, harsh and forbidding. Maybe because she’d never seen

him laugh, or even smile for that matter. Why did he so rarely smile? It transformed

him when he did, making him almost handsome, softening the hard lines of his chiseled

face, lighting the cool blue-gray eyes with warmth and carving a surprising dimple in

his right cheek.

He put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close for a minute. Maggie

leaned into him, enjoying the closeness, the warmth, the sensual tension that hummed

between them.

After a minute he let her go. He disappeared for a few moments and returned with

another stack of boxes. Some of them held decorations straight from the store, but two

of the boxes appeared older.

“I bought these for the mantel,” he said, handing her a box of green garland still in

the package and a set of candlesticks with red candles. “I’ll unwrap. You arrange.”

Maggie had just finished placing the candles when his watch beeped again. He

nodded toward the couch and she got in position, hiking her skirt up around her. The

slight pressure against her stomach and the slide of fine leather on her skin started her

pussy swelling even before the first stroke.

She watched him pick up the green belt, the one studded with metal and fake

jewels, and frown at it.

“This one was probably a mistake,” he said, folding it in half with the studs on the

inside. “I’m worried about the edges on these things. I don’t want to scratch or cut.”

He got in place and swung, but did it very gently, seeing what happened. The result

was pretty much nothing. She barely felt it. After a couple more tries, he tossed it aside.

“Guess I’ll go to Plan B.”

“What—?” She didn’t have to wonder what he meant for long. A resounding smack

from the palm of his hand branded her left cheek with fire.

“Yeowch!” She jolted, as much with surprise as pain, though it stung plenty. Still,

there was an odd, rough comfort in that primal contact. He spanked again and again

Katherine Kingston

until her bottom felt like it was on fire, and her pussy was throbbing with violent need

for relief. She groaned and wriggled and even kicked out, but he kept spanking steadily

for a few minutes.

Then he stopped and rubbed the heated surface and she moaned in pure bliss. His

fingers roved lower and she spread her legs, offering access to where she wanted him to

touch. When he just brushed her slit, she sucked in a sharp breath and waited, wanting

and hoping. But he only caressed her labia a couple of times before stepping away and

saying, “Not yet.”

Her sigh came out sounding like a sob, but she didn’t protest this time.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Definitely.”
He grinned and said, “Food.”
“Oh. Yeah, that too.”
He pointed to several more boxes on the floor. “There are some things for the

shelves and other doodads in those two. Would you start putting those wherever you

think they would look good, while I call out. I was thinking Chinese. There’s a place not

far from here that delivers. Are you okay with that?”

“Love Chinese. Pretty much anything.”
“Okay.”
She dug into the decorations, stringing garlands around doorways and setting out

angels, Santa Clauses and reindeer in various places. One shelf had a large open area

where he’d obviously cleared out some books. “Got something special to go here?” she

asked, once he’d finished the phone call.

“Yes. We’ll get to it last.”
Maggie unwrapped a plastic frame for hanging on the wall to hold Christmas cards.

“You had a quite shopping spree.”

He shrugged. “I’ve never decorated for Christmas before. I was starting from close

to scratch.”

“Never?”
“Until a couple of years ago I was living in dorms or apartments so small there was

barely room enough for me, let alone a Christmas tree.” He turned and took a picture

down from the wall. “We can put that here. And I have a few cards to hang on it.”

She wanted to ask him why he’d been living in those conditions long past the time

when most men would have gotten a better apartment, at least, but he’d made it clear

that conversation was ended.

His watch went off again before she’d finished clipping his cards to the frame. Once

she got in position, she braced herself. There was only one belt left, the wide, heavy one

made from those woven black leather strips. That one was going to hurt.

Secret Santa Sir

And it did. He swung it hard, letting it smack her bottom with considerable force.

By then, the accumulated rough treatment of her rear end made this new insult smart

even more. It stung like hundreds of bees attacking. He spanked faster this time, so that

the bite from one hadn’t faded before another laid on a fresh coat of fire.

After a few more, the pain was so bad, she wailed a long, loud groan of agony.

“Please, oh please, no more!” she begged.

He paused. “Are you using your safe word?”
She considered it seriously, but, “No.” It wasn’t really that she wanted more pain so

much, but she wanted to know that she could endure it. And she wanted more of that

hot, zinging tension winding into her pussy and making it swell. It was a mystery how

such awful pain could turn into such a marvelous pleasure, but there it was.

The belt smacked again, making her yelp and groan with the agony. She wriggled

and kicked and thumped the cushions in an effort to bear it. Two more fast strokes, and

then one more, harder than the rest. So hard, the pain was like a bucket of hot tar

dumped on her bottom, spreading all over. She shrieked and couldn’t stay in place any

longer. Sobbing, moaning and panting, she reached back to rub as she marched up and

down the living room.

He watched, expression impassive, for a few moments, then said, “I didn’t tell you

you could get up. Get back in position for one more.”

“No, please,” she wailed.
“Get back in position.” This was the stern, growly Sean now.
It made her stomach clench and curl in a scary but exciting way. Slowly Maggie

settled herself over the back of the couch again, hanging onto the cushions below

tightly, bracing for the worst.

He didn’t make her wait. The stroke was harsh, heavy, and landed right on the

tender skin at the juncture of buttocks and thighs. Hot fire sizzled the throbbing flesh.

She shrieked again and kicked, but stayed in place this time, though she beat her fists

on the cushions.

He dropped the belt and rewarded her with a kiss on the fiery flesh that changed

pain to thrilling pleasure. She moaned and bucked as his tongue traced the lines left by

the belt.

Tension turned to urgency as his tongue roved lower, getting closer and closer to

the place she wanted it to touch the most.

A grating buzz interrupted them. Scott stood and muttered, “Food’s here.” He

studied her and said, “Why don’t you go freshen up a bit.”

Thank goodness she didn’t have to stay there, in plain sight for whoever came to

the door.

She retreated to the bathroom. By straining a bit she could see her bottom in the big

mirror over the low sink. It was definitely red, bright glowing red, with visible welts.

Katherine Kingston

Some showed the pattern of the woven leather strands of the belt he’d just used. Those

marks gave her a peculiar thrill of pride.

By the time she came back out, the deliveryman had departed and Sean was lifting

cartons from a bag. He spread them out on the table in the dining area adjacent to the

kitchen. He’d already put out plates, knives, forks and chopsticks. There were at least

eight white cartons sitting there.

“Whose army are you feeding?” she asked, surveying the spread.
“I like variety,” he admitted. “And I’ll eat on the leftovers for several days.”
“Oh. That makes sense.”
He nodded. “Want to open the cartons and get spoons while I get the wine?”
She did as directed. After he’d poured a glass of white wine for each of them, he

said, “Before we sit down, there’s one more thing I want you to do. Take off your

blouse.”

“Eat…topless?” she asked.
“Why not? We’re alone here. Wait.” He went over to the windows and pushed a

button at one side. Drapes that were bunched at the side slid on a motorized track to

cover the entire expanse of glass. “Now we’re completely private. And I’m going

topless too.” He pulled off his shirt and laid it on a chair.

Maggie stared. For an admitted geek, he had broad shoulders and solid chest

muscles covered with fine, light hair. After a minute she lifted the bottom edge of her

sweater and pulled it over her head. When she returned to the table after placing her

sweater on the same chair where he’d put his shirt, Sean came around behind her and

held the chair while she sat down.

Once seated himself, he began checking the various boxes, telling her what they

were and offering them to her. Maggie ended up with a plate full of rice, sweet and sour

chicken, moo goo gai pan, mixed vegetables, shrimp in lobster sauce and an egg roll.

It felt weird to eat topless, especially when he didn’t pretend not to stare at her

breasts occasionally. But he also asked questions about her travels with her family

around the country, learning more about the places she’d visited while they ate. It

surprised her to discover he’d done almost no traveling, either as a kid or since he’d

become an adult.

He shrugged it off with a quick “No money for travel” when she mentioned it.

Then he quickly asked another question about the Rocky Mountains versus the

Appalachians to move the conversation to another track.

It was a fun, fast-moving and far-ranging conversation that found them laughing

together in places, grinning at each other in others and sometimes just shaking their

heads. For a while Maggie even managed to forget her nudity. They talked for a good

while past finishing the food and continued while he poured another glass of wine for

each of them.

Finally, though, they got up, put away the leftover food and cleaned up the dishes.

Secret Santa Sir

“One more thing to do for the decorating,” he said, getting the last box. “This one is

special.” He opened the box and pulled out several objects wrapped carefully in

newspaper. “Go ahead,” he said, pointing at the ones he’d already lain on the floor.

She unwrapped the first one to discover a beautiful figure of a shepherd. It was

hand-carved, not quite professional quality, but graceful nonetheless, and there was

something almost tender about the way the shepherd cradled a lamb in his arms. The

second one was a wise man, elegant and sleek.

By the time she’d unwrapped the entire nativity set, he’d pulled out a rough

wooden barn, obviously hand-built as well, and put it in the spot he’d reserved on the

shelf. She picked up several of the figures and brought them over, letting him place

them in the barn. “It’s beautiful. Who made it?”

“My grandfather. It took him a couple of years to carve all the figures and put the

frame together.”

“No wonder you said it was special.”
He nodded. “My grandparents raised me,” he said, keeping his face turned to the

shelf and his gaze fixed on the nativity set. “My mother was seventeen when I was

born. She married my father just long enough to give me his name. He split, she got into

drugs and spent the next fifteen years in and out of rehab centers and jail. When she

wasn’t in, she was shacking up with some guy or turning tricks for drugs. Finally

overdosed about fifteen years ago. My grandparents were far from well off, but they

raised me and did the best they could for me. My granddad died five years ago, three

months before I finally graduated from Virginia. My grandmother is in a nursing center

ten minutes from here. She has Alzheimer’s and doesn’t always recognize me.”

He finally turned back toward her. “That’s more than I’ve ever told anyone else

about myself.” He stared at her for a moment before continuing. “I plan to visit Gram

tomorrow. How would you feel about going with me?”

“Honored.”
“Good.” He looked around the room, then at his watch. “Good timing. My favorite

Christmas special is on in a few minutes. The one about the Grinch. Not the movie, the

animated TV show. Wait a minute.” He disappeared down the hall and came back a

moment later, holding something. When he brought his hand up, she saw it was a metal

ruler, longer than the average foot-long ruler, about an inch and a half wide, with holes

of varying diameters along its center. “Here’s the deal. We both get completely naked

for this. Just for fun, during the ads, I’m going to spank you with this.”

He found the remote for the television and switched it on, then flipped to the right

channel before he kicked off tennis shoes, stripped off his socks and removed his jeans.

She watched him, fascinated. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen a man’s body before. She’d

had sex. But those had all been brief and fast, usually in low light. With one it had been

in near darkness. Most of them had been so eager to get inside her, they weren’t

interested in any preliminaries.

Katherine Kingston

Sean’s body wasn’t perfect, but it was damn good. He was probably on the thin side

for most women’s tastes, but his shoulders were decently broad and his hips narrow.

No six-pack abs, but his stomach was still reasonably flat. His erect cock jutted out from

a cushion of light, curly hair at his groin.

“Hey! It’s flattering to be ogled, but you’re not following orders.” He slapped the

ruler against his palm in warning. She dragged herself out of the reverie.

“Sorry,” she said and hastily undid the skirt and let it slide down her hips.
He spent a moment looking her up and down before he sat on the center of the

couch and patted the cushion on his right. “Come here.”

She joined him, and he extended an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer as

the show started. Maggie had seen it often enough that she could almost recite the

whole thing from memory, and it appeared he had too. They recited some of the more

fun lines and sang along with the songs.

But then came the first ad. He tugged her down across his lap and rolled her over

onto her stomach. It was a delicious position, her body extended along the couch,

stomach on his strong thighs, the tip of his cock pressing into her belly. She wondered if

her bottom was still red and if she’d have any bruises from this whole thing.

The first crack of the metal ruler on her ass cheeks drove away all other thoughts. It

stung in a sharper, more biting way than the belts had. But as each smack bathed her in

fresh pain, it also pushed her against his thighs and cock. The combination sent curls of

heat deep into her core, making her pussy swell and throb with desire.

After a few more smacks, her bottom stung like crazy. When he spanked it on the

sensitive place where her thighs and bottom met, she jolted and squealed. Three more

and she was writhing so hard he had to put an arm across her back to hold her in place.

She prayed for the commercials to end and the show to start. The ruler was merciless, as

was the man wielding it. She loved him for it. Accumulated stings became a flood of fire

that raged all through her.

Finally, finally, the commercials ended and the show began again. He helped her sit

up, but instead of moving back to beside him, he spread his legs and dropped her right

in front of him, between his outstretched thighs, her back pressed to his chest. His lips

nuzzled at the side of her throat, and arms came around her, hands covering her

breasts, rubbing gently.

All that fire and heat in her bottom turned into a blinding, consuming blaze of

passion, need, want and desire. She barely knew and didn’t care what was happening

on the television while he tweaked and flicked her nipples, blew into her ear and licked

along her throat.

Then the show stopped for another commercial break and he flipped her over his

lap again. The ruler resumed its remorseless assault on her now very sore rear end. She

was sobbing, groaning and struggling to get away by the time the show came back on.

He helped her sit up between his legs again, resting her head back against his chest,

his head on her shoulder. His hands cupped her breasts. When he pinched her nipples,

Secret Santa Sir

hard, the feeling ripped through her like a knife blade, pleasure and pain mixed into a

potent brew.

She didn’t know how she could take much more. Her pussy throbbed with the

need. Her body quivered on a fine edge of desire.

His hands moved down from her breasts over her stomach to her thighs, stroking

gently. He nudged her legs apart as far as they would go between his and began

caressing the tender skin inside her thighs. He slowly edged upward from just above

her knees to her slit and the place that longed for, screamed inside her for his touch.

He stroked over the outer lips of her slit just as the show ended. When another

series of ads began, he didn’t roll her over onto his lap again. Instead he had a more

insidious torture in mind. His fingers parted her labia and explored the soft tissue

within. The heat and pressure tightened her every muscle until she threatened to burst

from it.

“You’re not allowed to come until the end of the credits,” he whispered in her ear.

“You’ll have to hold it until then, until I tell you it’s allowed.”

Then he proceeded to make it harder on her by finding her clit and stroking it. It

was thrilling agony. His touch increased the pressure inside, blew up the growing

bubble that wanted to burst out of her. Her entire body strained toward it, would let go

if she let it right then.

But he’d demanded she wait and that was agonizing, when every fiber of her being

threatened to burst out of control. She hung and hung, panting, gasping, writhing, but

refusing to let go until—

“It’s over. You can come now.”
His breath tickled her ear as he spoke and he rubbed her clit harder. It sent her over

the edge, burst the bubble inside and let the explosion rocket her into an orgasm of

stunning strength and beauty.

He held her tenderly as the spasms blasted through her, jolting and jerking. After a

while they trailed off, though, and her breath began to slow. He nudged her forward,

off the couch. “Go get my jeans.”

Maggie wobbled a bit but got the pants and brought them to him. He dug in the

pocket and pulled out a wrapped condom, which he handed to her. “Kneel down. Open

it and put it on me.”

She’d never done it before, but the concept wasn’t hard to figure out. Touching him

in such an intimate way as she rolled the rubber down his shaft was sheer delight, since

she got to watch his face in the process. She reveled in the way his eyes closed tight and

mouth tensed under her touch, enjoyed the sound of his long, low moan when she

stroked up and down.

She delighted in being able to give him as much pleasure as he’d offered her. An

aroma of strawberries teased her nose. She hadn’t read the packet label before tearing it

open. Was it a flavored condom?

Katherine Kingston

“Can I…? That is, can I kiss it?” She nodded at his cock.
He opened his eyes and an expression of pure, thrilling joy made his face almost

radiant. He nodded.

Maggie leaned forward and down. She circled the shaft with her fingers to hold it

while she pressed her lips to the tip. He sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t move to

stop her. Strawberry flavor was a treat, but she liked the feel of the hard flesh even

more. She ran her lips down one side and up the other, stopping at the rim around the

tip and a place just below the tip that must be particularly sensitive, given his reaction

when she tongued it.

He jolted and groaned, “Ah, Maggie, that’s good.”
She continued stroking him with her tongue and lips, venturing to take the entire

tip in her mouth and suck gently, until he drew a deep breath and pushed her head

back. He stood and stunned her by picking her up and carrying her back to his

bedroom. Once there he deposited her gently on the bed.

“I promised myself that the first time I had you it would be in my bed.” He climbed

onto the bed beside her, then moved to kneel between her legs. He leaned forward,

carefully balancing himself on his forearms, while his cock slipped between her legs

and sought the way in. She wriggled a bit to make it easier for him.

They aligned right and he pushed in, taking it slowly. He watched her, stopping

when she winced a bit. “It’s all right,” she told him, grabbing his head and pulling it

down so she could kiss him. “It’s been a while and I’m tight, but don’t stop.”

He nodded and gave her that heart-stopping smile again. Still he took it carefully,

watching her reactions while his cock nudged deeper into her. The pain faded as she

adjusted to his presence, and a curl of tension swept through her, desire rousing again.

The weight of him inside her filled a space that had been empty too long. It completed

her in a way she hadn’t realized she needed. She held onto him, pulling him closer and

wrapping her legs around him to draw him in deeper yet.

His pumping cock rubbed against a place inside that made her jerk and groan in

time with his panting breaths. Heat began to grow and expand again, building toward

another explosion. His panting breaths found an echo in hers, and she sank into the

sensations of his body against hers and the increasing rhythm of his pushing in and out.

They were hot together, so hot she couldn’t contain it long. The fabulous tension

swirled almost out of control as his breath came in harsh gasps and pants while his

body rose and fell, driving into her hard. Then he froze for a moment after pulling

almost all the way out, waited and plunged forward.

She jerked hard when the pressure exploded into a million shiny pieces, rocketing

her into an ocean of pleasure. At the same time, he roared and came with a huge jolt.

For long moments, neither of them could talk or move other than to spasm with the

shocks of orgasm, then the aftershocks. They lay together for a while with him on top,

limbs entwined, while their racing hearts slowed and harsh breathing calmed.

Secret Santa Sir

When pulse and breathing became normal again, he pulled out and moved off her,

rolling to lie beside her. He pulled her close against him and she rested her head on his

shoulder. A peace deeper than she’d ever felt before engulfed her, and she snuggled

closer to Sean.

Sean. She wouldn’t have believed this could happen even a week ago. Not with

him. Not with anyone, really. She’d never expected anyone else would ever know her

secret fantasies, and certainly never would have guessed she might find someone

who’d share them and want to play with them.

That was nothing less than a miracle. Not a permanent miracle, however. They

made no commitment to each other, and he’d suggested he didn’t want any. She had to

figure out how to enjoy this in the here and now without worrying about the future.

Without realizing it, she drifted into a doze that turned into solid sleep.
When she woke, light had begun to creep around the drapes in his bedroom.

* * * * *

Sean had watched Maggie doze off and debated waking her to take her home. She

just looked too peaceful, though. And if he was honest with himself, he’d have to admit

that he liked having her beside him, in his bed.

The day had gone well, better than he’d thought possible. She’d responded with

such enthusiasm to all his games as well as to the food and the decorating. And his

revelations. Not that he’d told her everything… Not by a long shot. He didn’t dare yet.

Maybe after tomorrow. She’d agreed to go with him to visit his grandmother, the only

family he had left.

He wondered if she’d be able to understand or if she’d call it all off. His stomach

twisted into a knot. He wanted her so badly. He’d like to put a collar around her neck

and a ring on her finger to show that she belonged to him. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t.

Not until she agreed to it herself.

He willed himself to wake with the first light of dawn in the morning, then let

himself drift into sleep with one arm cradling Maggie close to his side.

Katherine Kingston

Chapter Seven

Day Six—Monday, Dec. 18

Maggie started with shock when she realized she’d slept through the night. Beside

her Sean already stirred, pulling away the arm he’d had draped across her side.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “You looked so peaceful I hated to wake you to

take you back. It’s just five thirty, so there’s plenty of time to get you back to your place

in time to get ready to go to work.”

She rolled over and reached out to touch his hair. “I must look like a disaster. I

didn’t brush my hair or teeth last night. Didn’t wash the makeup off. No moisturizer.”

She sighed.

He laughed gently. “You look beautiful, like a well-loved woman.”
Surprise made her stare at him. He’d said well-loved, not well-fucked. Did he mean

it? Did he say it that way deliberately? But she couldn’t tell whether the word was used

intentionally or casually. He turned away to sit on the side of the bed, and said, “Give

me five minutes and you can have the bathroom. Extra toothbrushes and towels in the

closet in there. I’ll make coffee.”

She managed to gather up her clothes from yesterday and get them back on,

motivated by the aroma of coffee and a need to restore some order to her appearance

until she could get home to her own shower.

Two and a half hours later, she pulled into the parking lot beside the office, but she

sat a moment before she got out. Could she really react normally if she saw Sean at

work today? They’d talked about it when he drove her back to her apartment, and

they’d agreed that neither of them was ready to reveal their relationship to their

coworkers as yet. He was already inside. His car sat just a few spaces away.

She needed to go in and drop off one of the Secret Santa gifts she’d bought a couple

of weeks ago for the exchange. Fortunately Jess, the accounting clerk, hadn’t arrived

yet, so Maggie was able to leave the wrapped box on her desk.

She wasn’t too surprised to find two things waiting in her own cubicle. A pretty

birdhouse ornament for her Christmas tree was in one box. The other bag held a wad of

tissue paper, with a note near the top.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my Master gave to me, six cane strokes, five leather belts.

Four chains to bind, a three-tailed strap, two pink ass cheeks, and adventure for the holidays.

Maggie,

Secret Santa Sir

Yesterday was one of the two or three best days of my life. I hope it was at least a good one

for you.

Please wear these for me tonight.
Thank you for agreeing to visit my grandmother tonight. She’s all the family I have left.

Unfortunately her condition isn’t good. She may or may not even recognize me. Sometimes she

confuses me with my father, my grandfather or my uncle. Most of the time she rambles on about

things I don’t even remember. I hope it won’t upset you too much.

As I’m sure you’ve already figured out, I don’t like to talk too much about myself. I started

to tell you a bit about it yesterday, but there are things in my past that I’m not proud of and

don’t like to remember. I will tell you about those things, and soon, but I hope you’ll understand

that a lot of water has rolled under the proverbial bridge since then.

I’ll pick you up at six and we can do dinner before we go to the nursing home. Buzz my

office if that doesn’t work for you. Until tonight.

Sean

That provided material for a few minutes of speculation. What did he not want to

tell her? What in his background could be so bad? He obviously thought it might make

her want to draw back from him. Would it?

No answers right now.
She dug down into the tissue paper, wondering how he might have included a cane

in the package. The answer was, he couldn’t. At the bottom of the bag was a square box

that held a pair of beautiful earrings. They were silver with a brilliant square zirconium

at the top from which hung six fine chains about two inches long. They were a bit larger

and showier than what she normally wore, but she loved them so much she

immediately replaced her normal studs with them.

Maggie got a lot of compliments on the earrings. She only saw Sean once, as he

passed by to go to the accountant’s office. Otherwise, she had a hard time concentrating

on work, but given that it was the week before Christmas, she wasn’t alone in her

distraction. No one commented on it,

While in a stall in the ladies’ room in mid-afternoon, she overheard part of a

conversation that gave her more food for thought. Two women from the sales support

department were discussing something that had happened earlier that seemed to

involve a computer issue, when one of them added, “Sean fixed it for me in about five

seconds flat. Have you noticed that he hasn’t seemed quite as ferocious lately? He

didn’t even lecture me for doing something stupid. Think even he’s getting the

Christmas spirit?”

“Yeah, I noticed,” the other woman said. “He’s cute when he’s not frowning. Think

he’s got a girlfriend? I’ll bet that’s what’s mellowing him.”

“Bet he does,” the other woman agreed.

Katherine Kingston

The voices faded out as the women left and Maggie ventured out of the stall,

grateful that no one else was present to see her blush.

Time crept forward as she watched the clock until five, then raced home to freshen

up.

Dinner with Sean helped confirm what she’d begun to suspect the previous day.

Much to her surprise, she realized that in addition to the incredible sexual chemistry

between them, she actually did like the man. He was deeply reserved, more comfortable

with his computers than with people, but beneath the sometimes hard shell, there

lurked a kind spirit he showed only reluctantly along with a wry sense of humor.

He related some of his favorite stories of odd requests that came to him as the sole

IT person for the company, including the sales rep who complained that his keyboard

had stopped working but failed to mention that he’d spilled an entire cup of coffee into

it. It was practically legendary among IT people but he actually did have someone who

had tried to use the CD drive as a cup holder. But his top true story involved a

company officer who called to say his computer wasn’t working at all.

“I asked him if it was plugged in and he assured me it was,” Sean told her. “So I

trotted over to his office and checked things out. Sure enough the computer was

plugged into the surge protector. But the surge protector wasn’t plugged into the wall.

The cord went behind his desk so he hadn’t bothered to get down and look.”

Maggie sighed. “Most of us are pretty clueless about computers. No wonder you

growl at us sometimes. We can do some pretty stupid things. Like the time I dragged

my task bar off the screen and couldn’t figure out how to get it back.”

His expression turned suddenly serious. “I’ve had more than my share of stupid

moments,” he admitted. “Only mine tend to be with people. I’m trying to do better, to

be more patient, to understand that things that are obvious to me aren’t obvious to most

people.”

“It seems to be working. I can tell that you’re calmer now, and you don’t growl near

as much as you used to.”

He smiled again, though it was a bit more raw this time. “I still have a ways to go.”
Maggie chuckled harshly. “Don’t we all?” She shared with him a few of her failings

that she struggled with, including the weakness for ice cream that ensured she kept

those extra few pounds on her hips.

By the time they finished dinner, they’d moved onto lighter topics. He paid the bill

and then drove them to the nursing center where his grandmother resided.

She expected a wizened, elderly lady, but the woman who waited in his

grandmother’s room sat in the armchair near the window as straight and rigid and

upright as a queen. She had the same light-blue eyes as Sean and the long, lean build as

well.

The woman turned to face them as they entered, but her expression showed no

welcome or recognition. “Who are you?” she asked. “Jake’s supposed to come today,

but they’re making him wait.”

Secret Santa Sir

Sean escorted her closer, waiting while Maggie sat on the only other chair. He

leaned over to kiss the older woman’s cheek before he moved to rest against the side of

the bed. “I’m Sean, Gran. Your grandson.”

The woman looked confused for a moment. “Sean does usually come this time of

day. But where’s Jake? Why are they making him wait? He’s always patient, of course.

Much more than me. Would you go tell them I’m ready to see him?”

“Sure, Gran. In a minute. First tell me how you’re doing? Did you eat your dinner?”
The woman gave a rambling, disconnected answer that involved a trip to Texas

some years ago, a date with his grandfather and something his mother had apparently

done that disturbed her. Sean made a few general comments through it, but mostly just

listened, holding his grandmother’s hand and smiling at her when she turned to look at

him.

And then she said, “Sean, what are you doing here? It’s wonderful to see you again.

And who is this? You have a girlfriend?”

“This is Maggie Marino, Gran. She’s a friend.”
“Lovely to meet you, Miss Marino.” The woman turned to Sean. “Has she met your

mother yet?”

“No, Gran. Mom’s…not available right now.”
A nurse came in and gave them a smile while she offered a couple of pills to his

grandmother and watched while she took them.

Evidently she knew Sean from previous visits, but she addressed the older woman.

“Mrs. Grant, you’re very fortunate to have such a handsome and attentive grandson.

Not many young men are so good about visiting their relatives.”

“Yes, he’s a good boy,” his grandmother said, then went off into another string of

nearly incoherent reminiscences after the nurse left them.

Ten minutes later, she suddenly looked at her grandson and said, “Sean, how nice

to see you again.” They repeated the introductions.

They stayed for about an hour, the time spent mostly listening to his grandmother

ramble, before Sean straightened up and said, “We’d better be going.” He kissed his

grandmother goodbye, and Maggie added that she’d enjoyed meeting her.

Sean sighed and took her hand as they left the building. “It’s hard to see her this

way. Alzheimer’s is such a cruel disease. It steals people from you little by little, until

the person you knew is pretty much gone even though the body carries on.”

There really wasn’t anything she could say to make him feel better, but she did

squeeze his fingers in response. His mood seemed to be improving by the time they got

to his apartment, however. As they went in, he switched on a couple of lamps and the

Christmas tree lights.

She stared at it. “It really does look beautiful.”
“Thanks to you.”
“We both had a hand in it.”

Katherine Kingston

He poured wine for each of them, brought it to the living room and sat down beside

her on the couch. Once they’d each had a few sips of wine, he pulled her close against

him so that her head rested against his chest. Maggie had to shift a bit more to kiss him.

She ended up almost sitting in his lap, and it was worth the effort.

They kissed for a while, brushing lips, exploring, tongues tangling and wrestling. It

went from sweet and comforting to hot and needy. After a while he pulled back enough

to say, “Undress me.”

Maggie dragged off his tie and said, “With pleasure.” She undid the buttons of his

shirt, kissing the exposed skin as she went. Her tongue tangled in light swirls of hair

and brushed over his nipples. He drew in a sharp breath and all his muscles went tense.

It felt wonderful to have a chance to touch him, explore what tickled him and what

turned him on, discover the power she could wield over this man, even though she

allowed him to be her Master in sexual matters.

With his help, she removed his shirt, unbuckled the belt and dragged off his shoes,

socks and trousers, leaving him in only his very sexy blue briefs. He jumped when she

laid a hand on the bulge they barely constrained.

“You know you’re a very attractive, sexy man,” she told him. “I can’t believe there’s

no other woman in your life.”

“I think it’s…the attitude.” His breath huffed in and out on harsh pants. “Doesn’t

win a lot of interest. And I’m picky. I’ve been looking for the right woman, not just any

woman.”

“A lot of women find that gruff, bad boy thing appealing.”
“I think I come off as more the irritating nerd than the hot bad boy.”
“You’re doing a good job of convincing me you’re the hot bad boy.”
He smiled at her. “Good. You’re the only one I’m interested in convincing.”
That made something in her chest clench to go along with the way her pussy had

tightened as she kissed and touched him. God, no. She didn’t want to feel anything

more than lust for him, not when they’d made no commitments to each other and there

were still secrets between them, the kind of secrets that he feared might make her back

away.

She reached out to him. “Sean—”
He shook his head. “Not yet.” Instead he stood up abruptly. Heaven help her, he

looked even sexier standing in those blue briefs, his face gone hard and blank. “Come.”

He took her hand and led her down the hall to his bedroom. “Strip.” The order gave her

chills. This was the stern Master Sean again suddenly, and she wondered if he was

using it solely as a defense against her curiosity.

Nonetheless she did as he ordered, removing her clothes, folding them and laying

them on a chair once she got to the bedroom.

“On the bed,” he told her. “Face down, hips over the pillow, arms and legs spread

wide.”

Secret Santa Sir

For the first time, she noticed that all but one of the pillows had been removed and

stacked on the floor nearby. The remaining one sat in the center of the bed, an island of

cream in the middle of the plain brown sea of the cotton spread. As she approached it,

she noticed another addition. A brightly colored silk scarf was tied around each bedpost

with the ends left trailing on the bed, separate rivers of red, green and two shades of

blue silk.

“Yes, they’re for you,” he said.
Her stomach turned over and clenched as she got on the bed. This was trusting him

in a big way, especially given that she’d irritated him just a few minutes ago.

He might have been reading her mind, or maybe her expression gave away her fear.

“Don’t forget that you have safe words,” he reminded her. “Just say, ‘red light’ and I’ll

stop and let you go, or ‘yellow light’ to take a break. You have my word on it. I

promised you six with the cane and that’s what I’ll do—unless you need to stop it first.”

She nodded quickly and scrambled onto the bed before she chickened out,

positioning herself in the middle, hips over the pillow, arms and legs outstretched. He

wrapped the ends of the scarves around her wrists and ankles.

For a moment, as the last one wrapped an ankle, she had a flash of panic. Her

breath caught and pulse raced. Wasn’t the cane the most feared and severe instrument

for spanking? What if she couldn’t handle it and he didn’t listen to her? She was at his

mercy. But she trusted him. Really. She hoped.

She watched him go to a closet and return with a slender, whippy looking rod. Dear

heaven, what had she gotten herself into? The cane tapped against her bottom a couple

of times while he measured the distance and took aim. Then he drew it back farther and

whipped it down on her bottom.

Fire tore a streak across her rear end, searing like a brand into the skin. She almost

screamed with the shocking pain. It spread to every nerve and sinew, intense,

agonizing, unbearable. She rolled a bit and tried to kick. If she could have reached back,

she would have put her hands over her rear. After a few anguished moments, it settled

into a deep, almost itchy burn that began to burrow deep into her.

The zinging heat of it streamed into her core, turning into that strange, throbbing,

exhilarating pleasure that tightened her pussy.

A second lash poured another ribbon of agony across her bottom. This time she did

squeal. It was too intense to bear without venting the anguish. She wriggled more

frantically until the initial fire settled into that different, deeper burn. How could she

bear four more of those?

Two more followed in rapid succession, sending her into a writhing, screeching

frenzy. Fingers clenched in the sheets while her breath churned in rapid pants. It was

hot, horrible, unbearable, but… The thrill racing through her when the first anguish

passed was amazing. Her pussy swelled, creamed, demanded more.

He hesitated as though waiting to see if she’d use the safe word. But she wouldn’t.

Hard as it was, agonizing as it was, she wanted more. She wanted to give Sean her

Katherine Kingston

submission to all of it. And she craved that exotic, exciting zing that strangely delighted

her.

Even so, she almost shrieked when the cane zipped down and cracked across her

bottom, painting another savage streak of fire. She moaned and sobbed and rolled

around as far as the scarves would allow. And an odd thing happened. She began to

sink into the sensations, pain and pleasure, finding it too mixed to sort out which was

which.

The next stroke lashed down and the initial jolt caused her body to arc up off the

pillow and drew a long, keening wail from her. Then the fire burrowed down to settle

in her core and need surged so hard she almost came right then.

He released her arms and legs, but put a hand on her back to keep her from rolling

over. Instead he climbed on the bed behind her, snapped on a condom, put both hands

on her hips, and lifted her up and back until her sore bottom pressed against his groin.

She moaned as he found her entrance. No easing in gently this time. He plowed into her

rough and hard. His thighs rubbed the welts on her bottom and that added to the

urgency of her need. She pushed back against him, demanding more and harder.

He answered by reaching around and under her to cup her breast in his palm. He

rubbed and then pinched the nipple, sending her into frenzy of writhing and pushing

against him. She groaned in desperation as he pumped in and out, ramming hard

against those places inside her that craved his roughness. She hovered on the brink,

close, too close.

Then he rammed in even harder and it sent her over the edge. She yelled in triumph

as she crashed and jerked in orgasm. The spasms dragged him over the same cliff and

his shout echoed hers.

They stayed that way for several long minutes as the spasms wore down. Finally he

pulled out and rolled to his side, taking her with him.

He kissed her hair, her cheek and her mouth. “Are you all right? Those were some

pretty hard lashes.”

She sighed. “It’s weird. Probably means I’m weird. It hurts at first. Hurts a lot. But

then it turns into this incredible feeling… I can’t even describe it, but it’s wonderful.

Complicated too.”

“How?”
She drew back to look him in the eye. “I don’t really like the pain, don’t even like

being whipped, but I really like having been whipped. Does that make any kind of

sense? And there’s this…” She hesitated a moment. “I don’t know if I’d feel the same

way about it if it were anyone else doing it.”

The smile that spread slowly across his face was just about the most beautiful thing

she’d seen. “I couldn’t do it with just anyone, either,” he answered. “It takes a special

woman to get a charge out of it. And one I can trust to use the safe words if there is a

problem, and to tell me if something isn’t working.” He gave a sort of shrug. “If you’re

Katherine Kingston

Chapter Eight

Day Seven—Tuesday, Dec. 19

The bag was on her desk chair the next morning with the note at the top.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, seven whiplashes, six cane

strokes, five leather belts. Four chains to bind, a three-tailed strap, two pink ass cheeks, and

adventure for the holidays.

My Dearest Maggie—

Have I told you how incredible you are? It’s true. You are.
Tonight is for fun and games and a bit of experimentation. I’m cooking, so be at my place

around six thirty. Bring the things in the bag with you and we’ll put them to use.

Your lover,
Sean

There were several small, wrapped packages in the bag, but she noticed that more

people were arriving nearby and feared someone seeing what might be in those, so she

waited until later, when she could take a break and retreat to her car to open them.

The first was a complete surprise, a deck of cards. A long narrow box held not the

bracelet or necklace she expected, but a feather pen. The third contained a pair of small

items that mystified her at first, but she soon recognized as nipple clamps.

The time didn’t drag nearly as much as it would’ve, mainly because they had

planning meetings for the upcoming year that actually involved some real discussions

and decisions. Sean attended those as well, which meant she had to fight her desire to

look at him constantly. Fortunately the topics were important enough and interesting

enough to help keep her mind where it needed to be.

But those ended at three, which left her with a couple of hours to watch the clock

and pretend to work. She upbraided herself about behaving like a lovesick teenager, but

it did no good. The time dragged but finally got to five. She was out of the office on the

dot of the hour.

The first thing she noticed when she got to Sean’s apartment was the aroma of fresh

bread and chicken. The second thing was Sean himself looking totally delectable

Secret Santa Sir

wearing an apron over a pair of worn, tight-fitting jeans and a blue cotton sweater with

the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

“Come on in,” he said as she pushed open the door after knocking. “We’re just

about ready.”

A few minutes later they were settled at the table and dug into the lemon herbed

chicken, broccoli in cheese sauce and bread he admitted had come from the bakery

section at Giant. “You’re a terrific cook,” she told him after a couple of bites of the

chicken.

Once they’d finished, they took their coffee and the cheesecake he’d bought for

dessert into the living room.

“You’ve got the cards?” he asked. “Do you know how to play poker?”
“Yes, but it’s not really a two-person game.”
“It is the way we’re going to play it. It’s not a betting game. We’ll just deal, take

cards, and see who has the better hand. Winner gets to ask the loser a question and the

loser has to answer, or the winner gets to demand the loser do something. Fair?”

“Long as you don’t cheat,” she said.
“Nope. I’ll play fair. Even if I lose every hand.”
“All right then.”
“We’ll trade deals.” He shuffled the cards and dealt each of them five. Maggie had

nothing worth betting on in her hand, but since they weren’t betting it hardly mattered.

She discarded four cards, keeping only her singleton king, and got nothing better. As it

turned out, her king high beat his queen high.

She decided to start off with something easy. “When you were a kid, what did you

want to be when you grew up?”

“Fireman.” He handed her the cards. She dealt and he won the hand with a pair of

threes. “What’s your secret weakness?” he asked.

“Not so secret, really. Ice cream.”
He won the next hand also and asked, “What was your favorite subject in school?”
“Math.”
They traded a few more wins. Maggie learned that his favorite childhood toy had

been a dump truck, he disliked peppermint and reality TV shows, and his main goal in

life was to someday be a husband and father. She admitted that one thing she’d hated

in her early life was ballet lessons, the only sport she enjoyed playing was tennis, and

she wished she had a garden.

When she won the next time, she asked him, “What’s your secret fear?”
He took a minute to consider that before he answered. “That people will find out

who I really am.” He held her gaze as he said it.

Katherine Kingston

Maggie stared at him for a minute trying to puzzle out what that might mean, until

he took the deck of cards from her hands, shuffled and dealt again. She lost that hand.

“What’s one thing you don’t want people to know about you?” he asked.

She gave it some thought. “That I’m not really as confident as I appear.”
“You’ve got me pretty fooled,” he said. “Except when it comes to your sexuality.

But at work, you always seem to have everything under control.”

“And I work hard to look that way. But it’s a façade. Beneath it, I’m always a bit

nervous that I’m going to do or say something that will make me look like an idiot.”

“I think that’s pretty much a universal fear.”
She shrugged and took the cards from him. She won that hand. “What is it you

don’t want people to know about you?”

He drew a deep breath and muscles tensed. “Okay, this is the bad stuff. I was pretty

messed up as a kid. In my teens I ran with a bad group. When I was fifteen we stole a

car. And got caught. I was lucky that I just got put on probation for a year.”

“And you think that people will reject you if they know about it?”
He sighed. “I’m not proud of it.”
“You’ve come a long way since then, though. Got a college degree and a good job.

You should be proud of that. It sounds like you started with a harder road to it than

most people.”

“My mother died when I was fourteen. I told you she was a mess, a drug addict

who turned tricks for a fix. She OD’d in some guy’s basement.” He grimaced and shook

his head. “I realized I was on an equally destructive path and decided to get off it and

find a new one. My grandparents stood behind me and supported me as much as they

could all the way. It took me more than six years to finish college because I had to work

at least part-time the whole way to pay for it.”

“Sean—”
“No. Wait. I may want to be a husband and father someday, but I’m not sure I’m a

good risk for any woman.”

“Why not?”
“Why not? I just told you why not.”
“No. You told me you had a rough adolescence and a horrible family situation. You

told me you made mistakes and you paid for them. You told me you had the gumption

to overcome a really bad start and turn yourself into a solid, responsible citizen. In my

book, that makes you a better risk than most men who’ve never had to face the

challenges you have.”

His expression changed slowly from anger to surprise during her words. After a

minute of silent consideration he said, “You amaze me. You’re not at all the woman I

thought you were.”

Her stomach twisted. She tried to keep the hurt from showing on her face, but the

words stung.

Secret Santa Sir

He saw it anyway and regret drove the smile away. “No, Maggie, I’m sorry. I didn’t

mean it that way. I meant you’re a much deeper, much more interesting, fascinating,

intriguing and attractive woman than I used to think you were. I was… You’re so very

attractive. You intrigued me right from the start, and that was before I realized the looks

were coupled with depths of intelligence and humor and compassion you hid under

that polished, confident, standoffish exterior.”

The hurt disappeared, driven out by an almost luminous joy, mixed with surprise.

“You’ve been attracted all this time? From the start? That was almost a year ago. How

did I not know? You always seemed more irritated and annoyed with me than anything

else. Heck, you intimidated me.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I know, although it’s hard to believe anything or

anyone could intimidate Maggie Marino. I think I was a bit intimidated by you too.”

“You didn’t show it.”
“Of course not. Men don’t. We get aggressive instead. And in truth… I worry too

much, especially at work. With my background, I’m always wondering when

everything’s going to fall apart. I worry that if something goes disastrously wrong, I

could end up back at square one. No job, no options, no future. I probably overreact a

bit to protect the system I’m responsible for.”

“Maybe more than a bit?”
He offered a wry smile. “Maybe.” He leaned forward and kissed her rather

aggressively. Maggie’s lips tingled and her blood started to heat. But he pulled back

and set the cards aside. “One more question. What do you want from life? What would

you like to be doing ten years from now?” His lips twisted even further. “Okay, so

that’s two questions—but they’re related.”

Maggie thought about it. “Despite my kinky tendencies, what I want from life is

still pretty traditional. Eventually, I want a husband I love and who loves me. And kids.

I like my job, and I wouldn’t mind continuing to work, but if I had to choose between

them, I’d take the family. I think that answers both questions.”

He nodded and looked thoughtful for a moment before he put the cards aside.

“Okay. Enough deep stuff for one evening. A couple more things, then we play. We’ve

been invited to dinner Friday with some old friends of mine. Are you okay with that?”

“Well, sure, but… They know about us?”
“They know that I’m seeing someone. I haven’t told them anything more than that,

but they would understand about our kink. They share it. In fact they’ve been living it

for a while. Not in the 24/7 sense, but it’s an important part of their lives.”

“This is related to what I said earlier, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I’m not sure I’d be comfortable even talking about it, but it should still be

interesting to meet them. I’m not doing anything Friday.”

Katherine Kingston

“Good. I’ll let them know it’s on. Next thing. The office Christmas party

tomorrow.”

“Argh. Right.”
“Do we give the office gossips something to talk about?”
Maggie sighed. “Some people already suspect. I suppose they’re going to find out.

Why not set the stage for it tomorrow?”

“I think all it would take is the two of us talking to each other and being friendly

about it. Everyone knows we’re both single.”

“Then let’s do it, but not overdo.”
“Let them see us together, but not looking too friendly yet?” he suggested.
“That.”
“All right. That works for me.” He set aside the deck of cards he still held. “Now

that that’s settled… New game. This one’s called obedience. I give the orders and you

obey. Agreed?”

“Yes Sir,” she said, slipping out of normal mode and into submissive. It felt

surprisingly natural and good. How much of that was due to her own tendencies and

how much to the man who commanded it? They were too closely entwined for her to be

able to tell.

“Take off the blouse and bra,” he ordered and she quickly complied. “Come,” he

said when she was stripped to the waist. He nodded toward the hall. Instead of going to

his bedroom, though, they went into the room that held his exercise equipment.

“Over here,” he said, directing her toward the largest thing, one of those multi-

purpose machines that had an adjustable bench and bars of all sorts above and around

with weights on pulleys. Turning her to face away from the machine, he lifted her arms

over her head and put her hands on a horizontal bar hanging from the top. He’d

already set a pair of straps with Velcro fasteners around the bar, and once her hands

were in place, he wrapped the other ends around her wrists. She tugged gently.

Although the bar was suspended from one of the pulleys, he’d increased the weight on

it enough that she couldn’t pull it down.

Finally he pulled out a scarf that he wound around her face as a blindfold.
The strange sense of isolation, of being forced into herself, reminded her powerfully

of how she’d felt just a week ago when she’d first starting meeting him. Again she felt

the thrill of being helpless and at the mercy of her Master. A week ago she hadn’t

known who it was, at least not with any certainty, but knowing actually didn’t change

the experience all that much. There was still the little thrill of doubt, the frisson of fear

engendered by being so completely at the mercy of someone who might show little of it.

But his first move again reminded her of just a week ago, when he ran hands

through her hair and kissed her cheek and her throat. This time he continued down

until his lips were on her breast, tongue circling her nipple. He moved around and

around the peak, sending rivulets of heat steaming through her, teasing at it until she

Secret Santa Sir

moaned. Then he took the hardened bud into his mouth. He sucked on it and bit down,

gently at first, then harder. She squealed when the mix of pleasure and pain grew

unbearable. He moved to the other side and repeated the torment on her other breast.

He moved away and she heard a slight clatter before he returned. Then something

tapped at her breast, something hard and cool, slender and whippy. The taps were light

but still imparted a faint sting to the tender flesh. A tremor moved up and down her

spine as she waited for the harder stroke she knew was coming.

It wasn’t really much sterner than the taps when it came, but on the sensitive flesh

right below the nipple on her left breast, it stung enough to make her gasp. Another

slap on the lower right breast matched it. Then he added slightly harder cuts across the

tops of each breast.

She sucked in a sharp breath, but it wasn’t from the pain. In fact, the heat from

those strokes sent icy needles of sensation shivering deep into her gut, a mix of pain and

pleasure so exquisite she vibrated with the need it roused. The next cut from whatever

he used—some kind of light whip, probably, to fulfill the promise of his note—landed

on her left nipple.

The pain was sharper; the pleasure deeper. She let out a long groan as the mix

burned a trail deep into her core. The matching stroke on the other nipple jolted her into

a series of panting breaths. She waited for the next two, since he’d promised eight.

They didn’t come. Instead he fumbled with the fastening on her skirt, released it

and let it slide off. He pulled down her panties as well and ordered her to lift each foot

to step out of them. Silence followed for a moment, and she could almost feel his eyes

on her, studying her. It made her hot and cold, made her pussy swell with longing.

Then there was movement, something metallic clinking softly. Moments later his

fingers were on her nipples, kneading them gently at first, and then pulling harder. In

the darkness, she was lost in the sensations he evoked, the fire and the thrill, perfumed

by the scent of a hint of pine fragrance he wore.

A sudden chill against her nipple, the feel of something cold, preceded a fierce

pinching. “Damn,” she said as the fire in her nipple grew and grew, getting close to

unbearable within seconds. Then he added the second one to the other side, and she

shrieked.

His lips were at her throat again, kissing and nipping, drowning her in sensation.

She sighed when he moved away. The first fiery edge of the pain from the clamps faded

slowly, leaving a pulsing ache that matched the throbbing in her pussy.

When something tapped on her thigh, it took a moment to recognize it was the

whippy thing again. She had barely a moment to wonder, to fear, before it smacked

down hard on the flesh a couple of inches below the hip. The pain was furious. He

lashed across the other thigh and she squealed at the fire spreading across her thigh.

He moved around behind, working around the bench, and whipped her bottom,

one, two, three times, harder each time, until she was yelping with each and groaning in

between.

Katherine Kingston

A clatter sounded as he dropped the whip and his hands were on her, rubbing over

the welts he’d just printed on her rear and the fronts of her thighs. She moaned, in

pleasure this time, when his tongue followed where his fingers had led, tracing the

marks on her buttocks and exploring lower. Desire made her tremble when he reached

around from behind and cupped her breasts, squeezing gently, reviving the ache from

the clamps. “Sean,” she moaned, begging for more, for completion, but he didn’t

answer. Not with words anyway.

Sudden, sharp, excruciating pain knifed through her as he dragged off one of the

clamps. She squealed and pressed back against him, letting him steady her with his

warmth and strength. The second one came off in equally agonizing fashion.

While she was still shaking with the effects, he guided her to the desk chair on the

other side of the room and settled her into it.

“Let’s see if you can follow orders now,” he said. “Spread your legs as wide apart

as you can.”

She moved to obey, spreading her thighs.
“Good. Touch yourself. Squeeze your nipples.” His voice, his orders rolled over her

like hot chocolate dripping onto ice cream.

Her nipples were still sore from the clamps, and the pain roused a bit when she

pinched them between her fingers. But desire was expanding within her. Her pussy

throbbed with it. Moisture had dripped onto her thighs.

“Now spread yourself open with one hand and stroke yourself with the other,” he

said.

She’d never imagined touching herself there with someone else watching. But it

was for Sean, and somehow that made it right. She spread her labia with her left hand

and put her right index finger on her clit. The contact on her swollen bud almost made

her come right then, but she wanted to entertain him, so she stroked up and down

softly, holding her lips as far apart as possible to give him the best view. It was a

challenge to keep from going over the edge into an orgasm.

After a couple of minutes of it, she heard him approach, then he knelt between her

spread legs, pushed her fingers away, and replaced them with his tongue on her slit. It

was gorgeous, glorious, and she couldn’t take more than a few swipes before she came

apart in an orgasm that shook her and the chair.

Though still rattling with the aftershocks, she felt him pull back away, and

moments later heard a scrape as though he was dragging something across the floor. He

came back to her and took off the blindfold. He’d removed all his clothing except for the

powder-blue briefs that bulged in front. And the dragging sound had come from an

exercise mat that now sat in the middle of the floor. He backed to it, pulling her with

him, and sank down to it, taking her with him.

“Get the briefs,” he said to her as he lay on his back on the mat. She knelt beside

him and dragged the cotton fabric down his legs and off. He handed her a condom,

waited while she put it on him, then guided her over him until she straddled him. Her

Secret Santa Sir

knees were on either side of his hips, his cock squeezed between her slit and his belly.

She shifted and positioned him at the entrance to her womb then slid down, impaling

herself on his shaft.

The position let her watch his face as she pumped herself up and down, moving to

meet his upward thrusts. That was reward enough for the extra effort the position

required. Her spirit rejoiced with him when his eyes narrowed and lips tensed with

pleasure almost too much to bear, but her heart clenched when he alternated that with a

stare at her face that showed…more than lust. Longing. Love…maybe?

It scared her, but she put the feeling aside to consider later.
Their rhythm grew more rapid until she could barely keep up with him, but after

just a few moments he gave a loud groan and slammed hard one last time. She didn’t

come herself this time, but she didn’t need to. Watching his pleasure thrilled her deep

inside, knowing she had the power to bring him such joy.

She pitched forward against him, resting her head on his shoulder while they both

panted from the exertion. His arms wrapped around her. “You’re amazing,” he said

when he could talk again. “Your submission is so beautiful.”

“So is your Mastery.” She rested her face against his throat.
They were both dozing when he roused and shook her. “Let’s move to the bed. As

wonderful as it was, I’m too old to sleep on the floor.”

Katherine Kingston

Chapter Nine

Day Eight—Wednesday, Dec. 20

On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, eight willow switches, seven

whiplashes, six cane strokes, five leather belts. Four chains to bind, a three-tailed strap, two pink

ass cheeks, and adventure for the holidays.

Dear Maggie,

Are you prepared for the office party and setting off the office gossips? Personally, I have no

problem with it. I’m honored to have my name connected with yours. But I’m not sure you really

feel the same about me. And I understand that. If you want to change plans, just email me this

morning.

Otherwise, I’ll see you this evening.

Sean

She spent most of the morning holding an internal debate. Letting others know that

she and Sean were interested in each other felt like a commitment of sorts, at the least a

commitment to exploring a more serious and lasting relationship. If theirs had been an

ordinary dating relationship, she would probably not have hesitated. Despite his gruff

personality and the problems he had, everything she knew about him suggested he was

a good man. He was certainly an attractive one as well.

But their relationship wasn’t ordinary. Not that anyone else needed to know that.

But it still came down to the fact that she had no idea whether he wanted a continued

relationship and she doubted there was any possibility for the sort of life she wanted

with him, based on their current relationship.

Their sexual fling was fun, exciting and thrilling, and they had a lot in common in

other areas. They could build one sort of life together on it, she was sure.

But could it be the life she’d always wanted? The life that involved a normal home,

children, family vacations, PTA, soccer games…? Could a strong sexual dominant like

Sean be a good father? Was it even possible to mix the two lifestyles?

By lunchtime, the only answer she’d arrived at was that dating was for exploring

those kinds of questions. Can the two of us create a successful life together? Are our

ideas of a “successful life” compatible and workable?

Secret Santa Sir

If she told Sean she didn’t want anyone to know about the two of them, she

basically said she thought their relationship couldn’t be anything but sexual. That

wasn’t the truth either.

The pen she held dropped to her desktop with a clatter as one stunning truth hit

her. She did want a future with Sean. She was in love with him. Hard to believe she

could be so sure of that after a little more than a week. But it was so. She’d been in lust

with him since last Tuesday night. She’d started to fall in love on Saturday but Monday

night, seeing his caring concern for his grandmother, and then last night’s difficult

confessions had confirmed it.

Wanting Sean and the future family seemed like wanting to have her cake and eat it

too. How could the two coexist? She had no answers but she wanted to look for them,

to see if there was a way.

The office Christmas party was a rousing success. At two o’clock, everyone quit

pretending to work and gathered in the large conference room for goodies, silly gift

exchanges and even sillier skits. The charity raffle was a huge hit as well.

Toward the end of the afternoon, she and Sean spent a few minutes talking to each

other, being obviously friendly. It wasn’t much, not nearly as much time as she wanted

to spend with him, but it would be enough. Even with half the office out the next day,

traveling to visit family for Christmas, the rumors would fly among those remaining.

She’d have to decide how much to say. Hint that she found him interesting? Let on that

they were dating?

The first inquisitors caught her on the way out of the building at five. A couple of

the younger sales support people made a point to join her for a moment.

“Good party, wasn’t it?” one of them said. “Saw you and Sean talking. He’s cute in

a fierce sort of way. But he smiled at you, so I guess he likes you.”

As a hint it wasn’t even subtle. “I suspect he’s not as fierce as he wants us to

believe,” she told them.

“He sure fakes it well,” one of them answered. “He had me almost shaking a couple

of months ago when he read me the riot act for downloading that virus to my

computer.”

“How long did it take him to clean it up?” Maggie asked.
“About half a day,” the other woman said. “But it was an easy mistake to make.”
“I’m sure. But it wasn’t an easy thing for him to fix. I bet he had other plans for that

half day it took.”

The two looked at each other and nodded. “Yep, she’s got it bad,” one said to the

other as they waved goodbye.

It was true. She did, though she hadn’t intended to make it quite that obvious.
Unfortunately, a couple of hours later, she realized she had something else bad as

well. Something less pleasant.

Katherine Kingston

At six, she called Sean to tell him that she would have to cancel that evening. “I

suspect something I ate at the party isn’t agreeing with me,” she told him.

“How bad is it?” he asked.
“Pretty bad. I’m not barfing yet, but it may not be long.”
“Have you got any ginger ale?” he asked. “Or other soda?”
“No.”
“I’ll bring some over. Be there in half an hour or so.”
“You don’t have to,” she told him. “If it’s a germ, you might not even want to.”
“I have a cast-iron constitution. I’ll be there.”
Maggie dozed for the next half hour. The nausea didn’t get any worse, but it didn’t

get any better either. She felt pretty wretched when the doorbell rang. Sean took a quick

look at her and said, “Back to bed.” She was vaguely aware that he came back to her

room and asked if she was ready to drink something. When she shook her head, he set

the glass down on her nightstand. He helped her get into her favorite flannel nightgown

and tucked her in. “I’ll be in the living room. Yell if you need anything,” he told her as

he went out and flipped off the light.

She woke to take a few sips of the ginger ale occasionally, and she vaguely

remembered hearing the television a couple of times later on, but not much really

penetrated until the next morning. She woke shaky and weak, but without the nausea.

Sean was asleep on the couch in the living room, with the television blaring a sports talk

show.

He opened one eye as he sensed her watching him. “Feeling better?” he asked.
“Much,” she answered. “Thank you.”
“For what? Didn’t do anything.”
“You brought me soda and helped me to bed. You stayed here in case I needed

anything. No one but my parents has ever done that for me.”

Sean just shrugged and looked embarrassed. “Are you going to work today?”
“Last day before the Christmas break. It’s a half day. I think I can manage that long,

and I have a few things I need to finish up.”

He nodded, popped up, kissed her hard and headed for the door. “I’ll see you there

then. And later.”

Secret Santa Sir

Chapter Ten

Day Nine—Thursday, Dec. 21

Maggie wasn’t surprised to beat Sean to the office that morning since he had to go

home first to shower and change. A gift-wrapped box waited on her desk, but it was a

final present from her office Secret Santa—a box of chocolates, with a card signed by the

assistant to the company president. She’d already dropped off her final gift to the clerk

she was Secret Santa for. Fortunately she’d had those gifts ready well in advance.

She had a decent morning, but realized she still wasn’t feeling quite her normal self.

Her energy was low and she found it hard to concentrate. Tasks she’d usually whip

through took twice as long.

Word had gotten around the office and several people stopped by her desk to

investigate, not too subtly, whether there really was anything happening between her

and Sean. Maggie decided to be mysterious. She neither confirmed nor denied. All she

would admit to was that she thought Sean was interesting.

Several people rolled their eyes at that and a pair of women who worked in the

plant shook their heads at each other and giggled. “Hey, if you decide you’re not

interested, could you point him in my direction?” one of them asked.

It took her longer to finish up everything than she expected. Pretty much everyone

else had left the office, calling Christmas wishes to each other as they exited, by the time

she was ready to pack it in.

Sean’s bag was on the seat of her car.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a cat with nine tails, eight willow

switches, seven whiplashes, six cane strokes, five leather belts. Four chains to bind, a three-tailed

strap, two pink ass cheeks and adventure for the holidays.

Maggie -

I’m going to get off work early too. If you’re feeling up to it, I hope you’ll want to spend the

rest of the day with me. I have some last-minute shopping to do and then we can put the enclosed

to use. But if you’re not feeling well enough, we can stay in and watch some favorite videos. I’ll

pick you up around two. Pack an overnight bag in case you want to spend the night.

Love,
Sean

Katherine Kingston

The “enclosed” made her glad she was in the privacy of her car when she pulled it

out. It took her a moment to figure out it was a flogger with a spray of nine lashes

falling from a wooden handle. The lashes were soft, narrow strips of leather about two

feet long. She suspected they would have a deliciously wicked sting.

She got home a bit after one, passed on lunch and took a nap instead. She roused

just in time to pack her bag, refresh her makeup, comb her hair and change into jeans

and a casual sweater before he arrived.

The shopping trip took most of the afternoon due to crowded parking lots and long

lines at registers, but just being with him compensated for any amount of aggravation.

They had an early dinner while they were out. It wasn’t a great restaurant, but by then

she was getting hungry again, and it was the first real meal she’d had in the last couple

of days. Hunger made a great sauce and the company would have made almost

anything acceptable. Even so, she ate less than normal, not wanting to push her

stomach’s recovery too hard.

They laughed, shared stories, discussed books they’d read and shows they’d seen

and had a generally wonderful time. He glanced at her plate several times, so he

obviously noticed that she didn’t eat much, but didn’t say anything about it until they

got back to his apartment.

“You’re not completely recovered,” he said once they were there and had dumped

their many bags on the table in the kitchen. “We’re going to take it easy tonight. Let’s

get these things wrapped and ready and then watch a movie. Have you ever seen

Miracle on 34

Street?”

“Several times. Several versions. It’s a favorite. Have you got the original one? It’s

still the best.”

“Of course,” he said and went to the shelves that held his DVD collection, fished

out the right one and laid it beside the player. “In the meantime, though, some music

for the season?” He switched on the stereo and let it play while they wrapped the

presents they’d bought. It had never been one of her favorite activities, but they had a

good time sharing the job. The soundtrack was eclectic, featuring classic Christmas

carols and hymns mixed with more secular tunes, a few novelty songs and some

modern rock remixes and originals.

For the next hour they folded paper, taped, cut ribbon, wrapped it around boxes

and added tags. By the time they were done with all the gifts, they had a respectable

pile. Afterward, they watched the movie curled up together on the sofa.

Twenty minutes into the movie, she was sitting on his lap, head against his

shoulder while he played with her nipples, rubbing, tweaking and pinching them. Ten

minutes later her sweater and shirt came off, followed shortly by the bra. She had his

shirt off in another few minutes. Well before the movie ended they were both naked

and paying no attention to the screen anymore.

But he was listening to it at some level. When the credits started to roll, he lifted her

off his lap and deposited her very gently on the floor.

Secret Santa Sir

“You seem to be doing pretty well,” he said. “I think you could take a bit of light

correction.” He stared at her for a moment, waiting for her to deny it.

Instead she said, “Yes Sir. I think so.”
“You brought the flogger I gave you?”
“Yes Sir. In my bag.”
“Good. Go and get it and bring it to me.”
“Yes Sir.” She rose, a bit stiffly, went and got the flogger from her bag and went

back to him with it.

“Did you try it out?” he asked.
“No Sir.” At his skeptical glance, she amended the words. “Well, just a little bit.”
“Then you probably know it’s a very versatile instrument. Used hard, it can inflict

quite harsh punishment, but used lightly, it’s more caressing. Tonight we’re going light,

but you will have a harder session with it sometime later.”

Maggie gulped a bit. Those leather tails could be vicious if swung hard. But she’d

worry about that later.

“Get that hassock and bring it over here,” he directed. When she’d done that, he

said, “Stand up, facing the television, spread your legs wide, lean forward and put your

hands on the hassock.”

Once she’d done it, she realized what a vulnerable position that put her in. He

could use the flogger on any part of her back from her legs up to her shoulders. Most

frightening, the insides of her thighs and pussy were wide open and surely made

irresistible targets.

The flogger made an odd whizzing noise when he swung it, and a series of sharp

cracks when the tails struck skin. He aimed first at her buttocks, swinging it across them

in a lash so light the sensation was more like a caress. A caress that carried a light burn

with it, but nothing that could be described as pain.

Several more strokes fell on her bottom and the tops of her thighs, warming the skin

in a tantalizing way, with an occasional small sting. On the whole it was more like a

rougher massage than a whipping. Even when he aimed the lashes at the insides of her

thighs, the sting was minimal, but the stimulation considerable.

After a while the strokes got harder, but only enough to create a sweet, gentle burn

that roused her need for him. Then the tails raked right across her pussy. She jumped

and squealed, as much from the shock as the minimal pain.

He tossed the flogger aside, helped her to her feet and guided her down the hall to

his bedroom. Their lovemaking was longer, slower and gentler this time. When it was

over, they lay together, kissing occasionally, stroking once or twice, but mostly just

talking quietly and enjoying the closeness. Eventually she fell asleep in his arms.

Katherine Kingston

Chapter Eleven

Day Ten—Friday, Dec. 22

Maggie woke the next morning to the feel of something soft and bristly running

over her skin. Despite the occasional tickle, she ignored it until it swept along her breast

and prickled her nipple. She opened her eyes to see Sean grinning down at her, wiping

the feather he’d given her over the breast.

“We neglected the feather yesterday,” he said. “I’m making up for it.” He turned

and put it on his nightstand, however. “Time to wake up. We have things to do.

Breakfast, a grocery store run first of all. And there’s a chance of snow later today. Give

me ten minutes in the bathroom and I’ll start the coffee.”

By the time she’d finished showering and dressing again, the aroma of coffee and

bacon cooking drew her to the kitchen.

“Would you scramble the eggs?” Sean asked. She had to smile at the sight of him

with an apron over his jeans and polo shirt, his damp hair starting to curl as it dried.

“Certainly.”
Twenty minutes later they settled down to breakfast. He’d left a pen and pad by the

side of his plate and they worked on a grocery list while they ate. Once they finished

the meal, cleaned up the dishes, brushed their teeth and finished dressing, they set off

for the store.

You could learn a lot about a man watching him shop for groceries, Maggie decided

after a couple of aisles. Sean was very methodical, going up and down each row,

checking off items. Earlier, after he had the list done, he rewrote it, organizing items by

their placement in the store. Although he checked out sales items, he rarely bought

anything that wasn’t on the list. One exception was salad greens, since seeing the

vegetable had reminded him that he’d agreed to bring a salad that evening. They had a

mild argument over the best greens to use and what other items to include, and she

impulsively bought several things for him, including a package of breakfast rolls and

packets of hot chocolate mix.

The snow started as they drove back to his apartment.
Maggie loved the snow, especially its first appearance of the season. Once the

groceries were carried in and stowed, they dressed as warmly as possible and went out

to walk in it. Large flakes drifted down, sprinkling their hats, hair and coats and

catching in eyelashes. At that point it wasn’t sticking either on the grass or road, and the

weather report on the car radio had said no more than an inch was likely.

They walked for a good while through the shower, enjoying the crisp temperature,

the mild exercise and just being together. When the conversation turned to winter

Secret Santa Sir

activities, he admitted he’d only gone skiing twice in his life, with no particular success.

Since Maggie loved skiing, he promised to give it another try, even take lessons this

time.

By the time they got back to his apartment, their noses were red and cheeks pink

from the cold. Steaming cups of hot chocolate revived them.

He disappeared for a couple of minutes, leaving her to watch the snow begin to

coat the city in its dazzling white blanket, but he returned with a gift bag much larger

than previous ones. He handed it to her, saying, “You can open this now.”

The note was, as usual, on top.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my Master gave to me, ten erotic costumes, a cat with nine

tails, eight willow switches, seven whiplashes, six cane strokes, five leather belts. Four chains to

bind, a three-tailed strap, two pink ass cheeks and a spanking ’neath the Christmas tree.

Maggie—

The enclosed is just for fun and games, and if you’re not interested, that’s fine too. But I

thought it would be interesting to give some or all of these a try this afternoon. We’re supposed

to be at the Tysingers’ place by six, so at four we’ll head over to your apartment so you can

change for dinner. We have a few hours until then. Let’s play.

Tomorrow will be different. It will be more serious, more challenging, more of a test to probe

some of your limits. I’m not sure how it will go. I’m not even entirely sure I want to do it. But I

think we need to do it. Fun and games are part of the Master-sub relationship, harsher trials can

be as well.

I think, from the fantasies you described to me early on, that this is something you want to

explore as one facet of any continuing relationship.

More details will be forthcoming tomorrow.

Love,
Sean

Her stomach twisted a bit with both apprehension and excitement at the promise of

exploring limits the next day. He was right, she did want it. Or thought she did. But

that didn’t mean it terrified her any less. Still… That was for tomorrow.

Beneath the note, she found several parcels wrapped in tissue paper. The first one

held a green satin corset with a matching thong. It was beautiful, but she wasn’t sure

she’d be able to get into it. In the second she found a camisole cut so low it probably

wouldn’t cover her nipples and a pair of very short shorts to go with it. A third package

revealed a slender, slinky, blue satin gown. Sleeveless, low necked and slit up both

sides, it would be both elegant and daring if it fit.

Katherine Kingston

“You don’t have to do this if it seems silly or humiliating to you. I thought it would

be fun to try them out.”

She looked up at him. The blue of his eyes was warmer than she’d ever seen it, and

that in itself was enough to convince her. If it made him happy… But when had that

started to matter to her? They’d been involved for such a short time.

“Of course I’ll try them for you. You’re not expecting me to wear them to go

somewhere, are you?”

“Fun and games here only.” He looked up at the clock. “How about some lunch?”
They had sandwiches and coffee afterward.
Once they’d moved back to the living room, he asked, “Would you model one of

those outfits for me?”

“Only if you promise not to laugh,” she answered. “I don’t exactly have a model’s

figure.”

His face changed to the frowning, growly look she hadn’t seen for a while. “You’re

beautiful. Quit fishing for compliments and go put on one of those outfits. You’ve got

five minutes.”

“Yes Sir.” She grabbed the bag of clothes and scuttled off to the bathroom. Which

one to try first? She considered all three but decided her current mood called for the

short shorts and barely there shirt. The pieces fit surprisingly well, though the shorts

were even shorter than she’d guess, and the top just as low. The upper edge cut right

across the center of her nipples. A bit of tugging brought it up higher, but then as soon

as she straightened up, the shirt sank down. The outfit demanded she go braless and

shoeless, so those items were left behind when she went back out to the living room.

Sean had turned on the television and was watching a college football game, but

turned to look as she came down the hall toward him. His tawny eyebrows rose and

lips pursed into a tight grin.

“Took you eight minutes,” he said. “I told you five. Go get me a beer.”
“Yes Sir.” She got a can from the refrigerator and brought it to him.
“Open it for me.”
She pulled the tab back, but some of sprayed out in the process.
“Very clumsy,” he said, sounding mock annoyed. “Get a towel and clean the

carpet.”

“Yes Sir.”
She got the towel and mopped up the spot, highly aware that her breasts all but fell

out of the low-cut camisole when she leaned over.

“Now, I want you to go pop one of those packets of popcorn we got this morning.”
She nodded and took the towel back to the kitchen.
“You want butter on it?” she asked him once the popping had finished and she’d

poured it into a bowl.

Secret Santa Sir

“No. Bring it here.”
Maggie carried the bowl to the living room and handed it to him.
“You want some?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“Good. You have to work for it.”
She looked the question at him.
“Get over there. No, farther,” he said as she backed toward the windows between

the TV and the Christmas tree. “That’s good. Now when I toss the kernel, you catch. In

your mouth. No using your hands. Miss and you have to pick it up with your mouth

too.”

Maggie opened her mouth to tell him how silly that was, then remembered. It was a

game. Something that showed his Mastery, but in a fun way. So, okay. She nodded and

put her hands behind her back. He waited a minute, watching a play on the television

before he tossed the first kernel in her direction.

She opened her mouth and had to fight the instinct to put up a hand. Of course she

missed. The kernel hit her shoulder and bounced to the side. She discovered that

picking it up with just lips, tongue and teeth was more of a challenge than anticipated,

but she managed. A few more came her way over the next few minutes and she did her

best to get them. Most landed on the floor.

The most awkward moment came when one of the kernels hit her chin, slid down

her chest and stopped in the crack between her breasts. She wouldn’t have thought

she’d have enough cleavage to hold one, but in that she was proved wrong. It took a

good bit of shaking and wiggling, which amused Sean considerably, before it popped

loose and landed on the floor.

Finally he put the bowl aside and said, “Enough.” He stood up and switched off the

TV. “There’s a present for you under the tree.”

Surprised, Maggie turned and looked. Sure enough, back in a corner behind the

stand a wrapped box sat. How had she not noticed?

“Go ahead. Open it,” he urged.
The gaily wrapped box held a beautiful, wicked-looking wood paddle. About a foot

long, two inches wide, it was made from some dark, heavy wood, then finished to high

sheen. One side of the long, flat section was deeply carved with a set of figures, the

other was plain. She wondered which side would hurt more.

“It’s beautiful,” she admitted, “and terrifying.”
“We’d best try it out,” Sean said. “Bring it here.”
Maggie drew in a deep breath, then marched across the room to him with the

paddle and put it in the hand he held out for it. Once he had it, he took her arm and

dragged her down across his knees, backing himself up on the couch so she could rest

both legs and head on it as well while her bottom was raised across his thighs.

Katherine Kingston

The paddle came down sharply on her bottom, but since she still had those tiny

shorts on, they afforded some protection—until he spanked down on her upper thigh

just below the edge of the material and she realized how much of the blow the cloth

absorbed. The strike on her thigh wasn’t even very hard, but wow did it burn. He

smacked another one down on the opposite thigh. Maggie squealed at the sting.

Fortunately he returned to spanking over the shorts for a bit and she breathed out a

sigh. A dozen or so swats later, he said. “Take off the shorts.”

She just lay there for a moment, reluctant to obey and expose more of her skin to the

fire of direct contact. Urging her on, he smacked the paddle down on her thigh. When

she yelped he said, “Did you hear me?”

“Yes Sir.” She reached under to release the button, slide the zipper down and push

the shorts down her legs. He helped slide them off, leaving her bottom bare.

“What do you think about the paddle?” he asked her as she got back in place.
“It’s wicked.”
“Good.”
He didn’t smack as hard when he resumed, but he kept going for quite a while,

spreading spanks all over her bottom and the tops of her thighs. The individual

stinging, burning spots ran together to engulf her entire bottom, but he kept spanking

the hot, sore surface until she wasn’t sure she could take any more. She tried to reach

back to rub, but he held her wrists in one hand while he smacked harder with the

paddle in the other.

“Yeeowch,” she protested.
“Keep your hands out of the way,” he said in that stern tone that both terrified and

thrilled her.

“Yes Sir.”
His next few smacks weren’t as hard, but each one increased the fire raging in her

behind, and each one sent a thrill of pleasure zinging straight through to her core. It

was hard to bear and she didn’t want him to stop. Not yet. Even so, she couldn’t help

some squeals and wiggling when each crack of the paddle jolted a little more.

Her rear end was on fire, the heat rushing along all her nerves to every part of her.

It felt huge and swollen and must be bright-red. Her pussy was swollen too, and damp

with desire.

She moaned as each stroke drove her deeper into that unbearable dual sink of

pleasure and pain.

After a bit longer, he paused and said, “Half a dozen more but these will be harder.

Brace yourself.”

He kept his work. The next swat of the paddle cracked like a gunshot on her bottom

and the jolt was so agonizing she arced up off his lap. For a moment she couldn’t get

any breath in, then she screamed. The anguish that rushed in after the first jolt

threatened to engulf her in the flames and burn her up. She kicked and bucked but

Secret Santa Sir

stayed on his lap, vulnerable when he smacked again. It wasn’t quite as hard, but it still

hurt like nothing she could remember before and she yelled again.

He delivered the next four final strokes fast and hard, so fast she had no time even

to draw breath between them. When it was over, she lay rocking in place, her groans

and sobs mingled too tightly to distinguish them.

Gentle fingers rubbed and lightly kneaded the sore flesh, and just that quickly, the

pain became pleasure and need and fiery desire. When his fingers roamed lower,

smoothing over the sore places on her thighs, she parted her legs to allow him access to

the place she wanted him to touch.

Mercifully he accepted the invitation and began to rub delicately along her slit, then

harder and faster. She sobbed again, but with pure pleasure this time, the tension

roused by the spanking tightening in desperation. Keeping one hand on her pussy, he

worked the other under her chest until he could massage her breast and rub the nipple.

A few minutes of that brought her to the brink, but before she could go over, he

shifted, moving her onto the couch. He stood, ripped off jeans and briefs, then lay over

her. His entrance wasn’t slow or gentle. He banged into her, then pumped hard and

harder, until she screamed on the edge and tipped over it into the most violent orgasm

she’d ever had.

They lay twined together for quite a while. Sean rolled so that his weight wasn’t on

her, but he could wrap her in his arms. He stroked her hair, her cheek and arm while

they slowly descended from the high back to normal pulse and respiration, as well as

regained some mental function.

Maggie could have stayed that way for a lot longer but after a while he shifted and

said, “It’s almost four. We probably should get going so you can get whatever you want

to wear tonight. We’ll have to leave the other outfits for other times.”

“How formal is this occasion?” she asked.
“Not at all. It’s just dinner with friends. Very casual.”
“In that case, I probably don’t need to go back at all. I brought another pair of black

jeans and a nice sweater I can wear. I just need to borrow your bathroom for a while.”

“Makes it easier,” he conceded. “I didn’t really want to move just yet.”
“Me either,” she admitted, cuddling up closer to him.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “That was a pretty fierce spanking.”
“Yup. You had a pretty heavy hand. I’ll be a bit sore, but no big deal. May need to

sit on a pillow for supper.” She laughed. “I’ll bet that would shock your friends.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Andi Tysinger has sat on her share of pillows.”
“You’re kidding. For the same reason?”
“Yup. I first met Andi’s husband, Nick, at a club I used to frequent. He sort of took

me under this wing, taught me how to be a Master, how to use the…tools of the trade.

Over time we became pretty good friends, and I’ve become friends with his wife and

some of their friends as well.”

Katherine Kingston

“So they swing this way too?”
He grinned. “They’re all kinky like us. Otherwise, they’re pretty different. I’m not

sure who else will be there tonight. But I’m pretty sure you’ll like Nick and Andi. Nick’s

a salesman, smooth as glass, but totally honest. Andi’s quieter, even a bit shy, I think,

though she’s blossomed since they got married. I’m guessing they’ve had to cut back on

some of their play now that Andi’s pregnant.”

“I look forward to meeting them.”

* * * * *

Nick and Andrea had an impressive house in an impressive subdivision a little way

outside the city.

“Did I mention that Nick owns a real estate company?” Sean said as Maggie

admired the rambling two-story house when they drove up.

“No. But he must be pretty successful.”
“He is. And one of his kinky friends is an architect who designed this place for him.

It has some special features. I’m sure they’ll give us a tour.”

She did like both Nick Tysinger and his wife, Andrea, as well as a couple of friends

of theirs who were present, another married couple, Dave and Julie. They all greeted

her with open warmth and welcome when Sean introduced them.

“Sean’s our favorite computer genius,” Julie confided as they walked into the living

room. “I understand you work for the same company. What do you do?”

“Marketing communications director,” Maggie said.
They spent some time discussing jobs, families, hometowns and other safe topics

through cocktails and crackers and into a dinner served in a dining room set with nice

but not the best china and lit solely by two groupings of candles in the center of the

table.

Andrea was a slender brunette just beginning to show a baby bump. She was

indeed glowing, though Maggie didn’t know her well enough to tell if that was normal

or a product of her condition.

“How far along are you?” Maggie asked her once they’d all sat down and started

eating.

“Four months,” the other woman said. “I’ve just had to go buy maternity clothes.”
“You mean I had to drag you out to the stores to go shopping,” Julie said. “I’ve

never met anyone who dislikes shopping so much.”

“Whereas you get a kick out of spending my money,” Nick answered.
“And you and my husband both get a kick out of beating me for it,” she snapped

back.

“And you enjoy it even more than we do,” Nick returned.

Secret Santa Sir

Julie shrugged and grinned. “There’s that.” She looked across at Andi. “I suppose

you’ve taken a nine-month time-out on the games?”

“Doctor didn’t say so,” Andi answered. “In fact, he said sexual activity was fine

until the last month or so.”

“Bet you didn’t tell him about the kind of sexual activity we enjoy.”
“No.”
Nick added, “We’ll probably have to limit our games to some light spankings.

Maybe pay a bit more attention to thighs and legs. But, yes, we’ll be keeping it pretty

light for a while.”

“Have you started setting up the nursery?” Maggie asked.
“Just getting started. We’ve got the room painted. And Nick’s parents went out and

got us some furniture the moment they heard they would be grandparents again.”

“Do you know whether it’s a boy or girl?”
“Not yet. I’ll have an ultrasound next week and we should be able to find out then.”
They discussed the baby, preparations and other family members until dinner was

over. Afterward Andrea asked if she’d like to go on a tour of the house and Maggie

accepted. The others stayed behind while the two of them went off.

As they went through the living room, Andrea said, “I hope we didn’t shock you

too much, talking about our…activities. Sean said you and he were experimenting with

it too, so I thought it would be okay.”

“It was okay. And we are.”
“Good. I’m not going to ask if you’re serious about him, I’m just going to say that I

hope so. Sean’s a wonderful guy, but it takes some doing to see beyond the hard

exterior.” They passed the staircase to the upstairs but Andi just waved at it. “There are

three bedrooms upstairs, but they’re all just guest quarters or storage right now.

Eventually our kids will use them, I suppose, but for now there’s not much to see

there.”

Maggie just nodded at the stairs. “I don’t really know about my relationship with

Sean. We… We’re sexually compatible. And I have learned to like him. Recently. We’ve

worked together for most of a year now and for a long time I really disliked him.”

“Not surprised.” Andi led the way down a hall to the left. “The master suite is at

the end here.” She led the way into a spacious bedroom area that Maggie admired. “The

nursery is next to it.” She opened the door into a smaller room, painted soft cream with

yellow curtains. A crib, dresser and changing table were the only furnishings. “Sean can

be pretty prickly, until you get to know him,” she added.

“I’ve noticed,” Maggie agreed. “But I think there’s a good man, a kind but rather

fearful man beneath the prickles.”

Andi smiled at her. “I’m glad you’ve seen it. It’s true, but he doesn’t let many

people get a glimpse of it. He’s just the opposite of Nick in some ways. Nick is very

smooth and personable on the surface, but there’s steel beneath it. Sean’s got a hard

Katherine Kingston

surface but is…not soft, but more vulnerable underneath. Nick’s got rock-solid

confidence. Sean doesn’t. I don’t think he’s very secure about a lot of things, including

his ability to be a good Master or a good husband.”

“So far he’s doing pretty damn well on the Master part,” Maggie said. “I can’t really

say about the husband part. I think I’d like… But we still have some things to sort out.”

Andi nodded. “Sorry to be so nosey. I’d like to see Sean happy. He deserves it.”
“I’m with you.”
“Good. This is our favorite secret.” She opened the door to a large room, carpeted

and wallpapered, but containing mostly exercise equipment and a large television at the

far end. “Most people see only a normal workout room. Only some see the other

possibilities of the room. It’s soundproofed and has plenty of storage space for extra

equipment.” She undid the lock on a closet at the side and slid out a rack that had an

amazing assortment of floggers hanging from it. “It’s a great play space. We got the

idea from Dave and Julie. They have a room like this too.” She sighed. “I don’t suppose

it will be getting as much use for the next few months. But we’ve figured we can bring

the baby monitor in here when we want to play afterward.”

* * * * *

“Did you organize this dinner deliberately?” she asked Sean on the way home that

evening. “To show me that it is possible to mix a BDSM life with normal family life?”

“Honestly, no, I didn’t,” he said. “But I have to admit that after Andi invited me

and I asked if I could bring someone, it did occur to me that it might serve the

purpose.” When she was silent for a few minutes, he asked, “Did it work?”

Maggie drew a breath, trying to sort things out in her head. “It’s given me a lot to

think about.”

Secret Santa Sir

Chapter Twelve

Day Eleven—Saturday, Dec. 23

When she woke the next morning, she was alone in the bed. She rolled over but

didn’t see anyone. A gift bag sat on his dresser with a card propped in front that said,

“Open this now”.

Blinking sleep from her eyes, she got up, crossed the room and dug into the bag. As

always, the note was on top.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, the limits of her submission, ten

erotic costumes, a cat with nine tails, eight willow switches, seven whiplashes, six cane strokes,

five leather belts. Four chains to bind, a three-tailed strap, two pink ass cheeks and a whipping by

the Christmas tree.

Maggie—

Today we do something different. Up to now we’ve done nothing but play spanking games

and some mild submission. (And it’s all been quite enjoyable!) But we owe it to ourselves to

explore some of the harder levels of BDSM.

If you’re up for it, I want to try something that will be more of a test. I want you to give me

your complete submission and let me take you to the edge. This will involve more bondage and

being blindfolded for most of it. I’ll expect you to follow my orders exactly, and you’ll be

punished purely for my pleasure, with some harsher instruments. It will start once you’ve taken

care of your personal needs and had some coffee and end at three o’clock this afternoon.

If you agree, you give me permission to do whatever I will with you.
If you agree, put on the enclosed before you go to the kitchen to get your coffee. Wear these

and nothing else. They should be snug but not tight. If you think this might be too much for you,

just put on your regular clothes. You won’t see me, but I’ll know.

Sean

Maggie sat back down on the bed. It was hard to think with no coffee in her system,

but she didn’t have to wrestle with the decision so much as just work up her nerve to

face it, to go someplace dark and scary again. She would do it. She even wanted it. At

least part of her did. But it was dangerous too, and if he promised it would be harsh, it

would be harsh.

Katherine Kingston

She trusted him for that. She’d already taken a couple of leaps of faith in the last

couple of weeks and it had worked out. This was about trust too, trusting him to push

her limits, but to respect them as well. Giving him a chance to show that he would do

both.

Did she really have the courage to go through with it? How would she know if she

didn’t try? And there were safe words if she couldn’t handle it. She’d be disappointed

in herself if she had to use them. But she’d be even more disappointed in herself if she

didn’t at least try it.

Heaving in a long breath and letting it out slowly, she dug in the bag. A cloth pouch

was below the note. When she pulled it out and undid the drawstring, she found half a

dozen narrow leather straps of varying lengths, each with Velcro on the ends and a ring

or rings riveted onto it. Each strip was tagged with a paper loop, “Neck”, “Wrist”,

“Ankle”, or “Waist”.

She went to the bathroom to shower, then came back and put on the leather bands.

It felt strange walking down the hall wearing nothing but those leather strips with the

rings that would make it easy for someone to fasten her down. She was all too aware

that he must be watching somehow.

The clock said it was eight thirty. If they started at nine and went until three, that

would mean six hours of being at his disposal, being bound, tormented, aroused and

dreading. Could she do it?

In the kitchen she found the table set with a plate holding a cheese Danish, a glass

of juice and a coffee mug sitting next to a carafe. Behind it were two envelopes. One

said, “Read this if you decide not to do the challenge”, the other, “Read this if you

accept the challenge”.

She ripped open the second envelope while she ate the Danish. It held another note.

Maggie—

Thank you for your trust. On the counter behind you, you’ll find a blindfold and a scarf.

Wear them as you did on our first meetings. Stay in the seat and wait for the next step.

Remember your safe words, “red light” and “yellow light”. Other than those words, you are to

say nothing at all and do exactly as directed at all times. You may sob, yelp, cry, even scream,

but no words.

This note wasn’t signed. Maggie’s stomach flip-flopped again. She took her time

with the food and drank every bit of the coffee before she got up and got the blindfold

and scarf. Throughout the meal she’d heard no other sound in the apartment. Once she

had the blindfold and scarf on, she sat in the chair and waited.

And waited.

Secret Santa Sir

She had no actual idea how long it was, but it seemed like possibly half an hour or

more before she heard quiet footsteps approaching, followed by a hand resting on her

shoulder.

“Stand up and come with me,” he said.
She started to say “Yes Sir” as she rose, but he stopped her with a finger on her lips.

“Say nothing. Not even ‘yes Sir’ and ‘no Sir’. You speak only when I order you to. This

is your only warning. Come.”

He turned her around several times until she lost any sense of which way they

headed, but she soon figured out they were going to his exercise-work room. Once

there, he stopped her, then lifted her arms and clamped something to the rings in the

wrist bands to hold her arms over her head.

“We’ll start with a good, long warm-up,” he said. A whizzing sound preceded a

soft splat as a series of lashes landed on her back. They were soft enough to be merely a

whisper of sensation on her skin. Seconds passed before the next one fell, a little lower

on her back but just as lightly. It was just what he promised, a good, long warm-up. The

flogger struck repeatedly on her shoulders, back, buttocks and legs down to her knees,

frequently, but never hard enough to impart more than a mild sting. He took it slow,

lashing at a deliberate pace that let her absorb each one.

After a while the skin felt super sensitized, as though each touch echoed through

her. It was an odd and different sensation, neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but holding

the threat that it could turn very unpleasant indeed.

It stopped and she heard the clatter of the flogger being set aside. Moments later a

dull huffing sound was all the warning she got before something hard crashed into her

left buttock, jolting her with a heavy shock of pain. Before she could even yelp, a second

wallop struck her right buttock. Waves of fire engulfed her, spreading from her bottom

along every nerve.

She groaned and cursed as she tried to find relief from the sharp burn.
“You were told to keep silent,” he said. “That will be two more for failing to obey

an order.”

“No, please,” she begged, almost sobbing.
“That’s another two more. Now be a good girl. Be silent and take your

punishment.”

She moaned softly while waiting for the paddle to strike again.
The promised additional four swats were not as hard as those first two, but were

still delivered harshly enough to make her jump and squeal with each. After six of

them, her bottom had large, fiercely stinging patches that she desperately wanted to

rub.

Another small clatter suggested he put the paddle down, then he was beside her,

turning her around, facing the other way and adjusting the bar her wrist bands were

fastened to, to hold her there.

Katherine Kingston

He must have picked up the light flogger again because a soft stroke of many lashes

caressed her chest and breasts. Again he whipped in that slow, deliberate pace that after

a while created a warm, itchy sensitivity that wasn’t quite pain. When one of the tails

caught her nipple just the right way, it bit deep enough to sting. A bit later a couple of

lashes across her abdomen sent the tails slapping onto sensitive parts of her thighs,

making her gasp.

Sparks of arousal began to dance in her core at the same time, the sting digging into

her skin, then flashing into her core in ways that made her pussy tighten. Each small

bite of a lash set them pirouetting faster.

By the time she heard him put the flogger down again, she felt flushed and hot all

over, gasping with the strain of bearing it and the arousal. After a short, silent interval,

something harder and fiercer than the flogger came down across her right breast, just

catching the top of the nipple. It had only one lash, but that one was stiff and bit

sharply. She squealed at the shocking pain and then groaned.

Fire and ice shivered and burned through her. It was unbearable and wonderful,

pain that turned to stunning pleasure as it spread through her nerves and drilled

through her veins. The second blow, on her left breast, seared hotter and colder.

She didn’t realize it had stopped until her squeals settled down and the pain

became less frantic.

For a while there was nothing. He left her standing there until she recovered her

breath and had stopped moaning. She couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing

since she couldn’t see anything and heard no sound. She didn’t think he’d left the room.

Somehow she was aware of his presence. Or maybe it was that he occupied such a huge

part of her mind it seemed he was always there. All of this was from him and by him

and for him. Or for them because she wanted it too, hard as it was and would be.

After what might have been five minutes or fifteen, she heard some clattering as he

moved around again. He nudged her and said, “Step up here.” He guided her up a

couple of steps of what must have been a stool. “You get some rest time,” he added,

“though it may not be the most comfortable you’ve ever had.”

Something slid under her, a bar of some sort. He had her step over it with one foot,

and then the stool was nudged away, and he guided her down onto the dubious

support of what felt like a very narrow board between her legs. Her feet dangled until

he attached chains to the ankle straps that held her in place. Only her hands, still bound

above her head, and the wood, which already dug uncomfortably into her pussy,

supported her weight.

It took her a few minutes to realize she was in a position she’d read about before in

stories—over a sawhorse or something similar, her weight resting entirely on her pussy,

which was being crushed on the narrow top. It always sounded uncomfortable when

she read about it. The reality was both better and worse than she’d guessed.

It was brutally uncomfortable, putting painful pressure on the sensitive area. And it

aroused her almost to the point of madness. She couldn’t grab the chains to support her

Secret Santa Sir

weight on those, so all she could do was writhe and wiggle to try to find a comfortable

position. Unfortunately, there wasn’t one. However she slipped and slid on it, she

couldn’t go far enough to get her pussy off the wooden strip. But the movement forced

hard, sharp caresses on her labia and clit that both irritated and aroused her.

After a while Maggie gave up trying for comfort and settled for the least painful

position she could find. She gave in to the ache and the throb as best she could.

She had no idea how long it went on. It seemed like forever, but probably only

lasted twenty minutes or so. Did he watch? Probably, but it hardly mattered.

Everything about this experience, the pleasure, the pain, the arousal, the total sensuality

of it revolved around him, through him and with him.

His hand roused her from the reverie she’d fallen into, waking her to splintering

discomfort in her pussy. When he released her ankles, shoved a stool beneath the

sawhorse or whatever it was and helped her rise, she screamed as a blast of pain shot

through her pussy from the release of the pressure.

His fingers replaced the harsh wood with a gentle rubbing that both soothed the

ache and set the fire of need blazing again. Cream slid from her and spread under his

caresses. But just as she bordered on spilling over into orgasm, he stopped. She almost

broke down in tears.

He helped her step down, her hands still fastened to the bar over her head until he

released them. A new ache spread through her shoulders, but he gave her no time to

recover before he tipped her face down onto a leather-padded bench.

This time it felt like a heavier flogger, though he didn’t use it harshly. Instead he

went over her entire back from shoulders to knees, avoiding only the dangerous kidney

area right above her buttocks, warming the skin at first, then spreading a biting sting.

He lashed slowly again, taking enough time between strokes to let her feel each, let the

fire of each rise and begin to spread before he inflicted another.

She sank into it, reveling in the heat and giving herself up in submission, savoring it

all the more for her feelings about the man on the other end of the lashes. The blows got

sharper and stung a bit more, creating what felt like a layer of stingy mist over the

entire surface of her skin. It went on for a long time. Finally he put down the flogger.

When he spun her around, she wondered what would come next. He didn’t keep

her waiting long. The sharp bite of a nipple clamp pinched one breast, followed quickly

by a second. Maggie yelped, then screamed as waves of agony spread from her pinched

nipples. Her entire being was pain and arousal now, every inch of skin, it seemed,

blazing with heat, except for her pussy, which clenched and creamed. She was close to

drowning in the blaze of anguish, her body and spirit subsumed and consumed in the

waves.

He moved around and then her hands were released. He caught her when her

shaky legs rebelled at holding her up. She leaned against him, soaking in the warmth

and strength of his body, the masculine aroma that was uniquely Sean. And despite the

Katherine Kingston

pain, the intensity of the agony in her breasts, or maybe because of it, it felt so

incredibly right, even perfect, to be with him this way, like they belonged together.

Doubt flashed in for a moment, a quick burst of “this is too good to be true”,

followed by “this is too scary to be tolerated”.

It was just a sexual experiment, she reminded herself, a game they played, and it

was good for now.

But this wasn’t just a game. It had started that way, certainly. But it was deeper

than that now, she knew. This was a more real submission than the games they’d

played earlier. It was a connection and a trade and a show of trust that took sex to

another level. It was a gift of complete self to him.

They connected in ways that went beyond the sexual pleasure they could give each

other. The pleasure was just the tip of the iceberg, an outgrowth of the way they fit

together. The way their needs and desires complemented each other was part of that,

but the whole of it was bigger and more than just the sexual relationship.

After a few moments, he moved her away. “I have a job for you,” he said. He

guided her a few steps over, then pushed her to her knees on a mat. He sat in front of

her in the single armchair, if she remembered the layout and contents of the room

properly. His legs were spread, knees near her shoulders, as she found when he placed

her hands on his thighs. The crinkle of paper and the small squeak of rubber against

skin told her he’d rolled on a condom. He drew her head forward until her lips touched

the tip of his cock.

“You know what to do.”
She nodded and dipped her head to take as much of his shaft into her mouth as she

could manage. One of her breasts, still bearing the painful clamp, pressed

uncomfortably into his thigh, but his long, sighing groan was more than enough reward

for the anguish she suffered. He shook with the force of his need and the muscles she

could feel were hard and tense. She slipped one hand off his leg and under his balls to

cup them in her palm, then squeeze gently. He jolted and his breath caught.

Exhilaration surged through her. She could make this man groan and explode with

pleasure. This man. Maybe she could do that with other men, but she didn’t want to.

There was only one man she wanted to hear moan and groan when she sucked him off.

Only one man she loved enough to offer this gift. Sean.

She had to face it. She wasn’t just in lust with him. She loved him.
It took only a few hard sucks to make him thrust harder and deeper into her mouth

while he came. She gagged and pulled back enough to hold him comfortably as he

continued to spasm with release.

She rested her head on his thigh while he gasped and panted. When he finally

calmed enough to be in control of his breathing again, he shifted her gently and said, “A

couple more tests for you. This first one will be challenging. Remember, you can moan,

scream, squeal or cry, but no words unless you need to use your safe words.”

Secret Santa Sir

Maggie nodded. The words, the authority, the masterful, masculine tone combined

to send a thrill running through her.

First, though, he took off the nipple clamps. She screamed with the removal of each

and continued to gasp for a while until the pain grew bearable again. He waited while

she recovered.

Then he led her to another bench, the main one for the exercise machine, she

decided, as he helped her lie down along it on her back. He pulled her hands down

below the seat and hooked them together with a short chain under the frame, effectively

fastening her in place. Then he lifted one leg, pulling it out and up and fastening it to

something above. He did the same with the other one, leaving her with both legs up in

the air and spread wide. It left her open and vulnerable to whatever he would do with

her.

She didn’t have to wait long. A whizzing sound was the only warning before

something thin and stinging cracked across the inside of her right thigh, a couple of

inches above the knee. Surprise at the fiery slice drew a squeal from her. He followed it

up by drawing a matching stripe on the other thigh.

Dear heaven, it burned. It must be some kind of switch—thin and flexible. The sting

was sharper, brighter and left an itchy flame behind when the initial sting faded. The

next lashes came moments later, just above the previous strokes. Lines of fire flared

where the whippy thing stroked. He went side to side in a slow, steady rhythm,

delivering cut after cut until the fire was spreading all over the insides of her thighs.

It spread beyond her thighs, up into her pussy, which swelled and creamed. She

panted with pain and pleasure and need. It all began to run together into a deep well of

agony as the strokes got higher on her thighs. She writhed as the torture of it took her

beyond pleasure, beyond herself, almost. Beads of sweat gathered on her temples and

ran down into her hair as she thrashed.

The final two strokes were laid just on either side of her pussy. Whether he

smacked harder or the area was more sensitive, each of those cuts hit like a blast of

lightning and drew shrill screams. She wriggled out of control struggling to get loose

and get away from the almost unbearable pain in her thighs.

Maggie was still moaning when he released her legs and lowered them gently, but

it wasn’t all from pain. Within the unbearable agony, a huge orgasm waited close—so

close—hovering and ready to explode in her. All it needed was a touch or two in the

right place.

He wasn’t giving it to her. He let her lie there, sobbing, moaning and wriggling,

with her hands still fastened beneath the bench so she couldn’t reach down to rub or

touch. Gradually the worst of the pain and the best of the arousal swell both receded

and her breath returned to near normal.

“I’m going to release your hands,” he said. “But you’re not to touch yourself.

Understand?”

Katherine Kingston

She nodded and sighed when he released the clamps holding her hands together.

Part of her considered the rebellion of putting a hand to her pussy or rubbing the itchy

welts on her thighs, but the part that wanted to please him prevailed.

He helped her sit up and offered her a welcome drink of water.
“Last test,” he announced after she’d finished it. “I’m going to string you back up

and use a heavier flogger. Here’s the deal, though. You get to say when it stops. I hope

you’ll hold out for a bit, but it’s your call. When you’ve had enough or all you can take,

I want you to tell me, ‘Make me come now’. That’s the only thing you’re allowed to say.

Understand?”

She drew a deep breath and nodded. A challenge.
And a considerable one, Maggie discovered once he had her hands fastened well

above her head again. This flogger was heaver than the previous one and its bite was

fiercer. He started at her front again, though he didn’t swing it very hard as he lashed

her breasts, belly and thighs. Still, it left numerous brightly stinging little places on her

skin.

Then he turned her around and began going over her shoulders, thighs and bottom

with the flogger, concentrating the bulk of his attention on her ass. He took it slowly,

letting her absorb each stroke, letting the fire build and settle in before delivering the

next.

Time had no meaning. Nothing else existed as she let herself ride the heat and the

fire and the arousal. But he did gradually lash harder. The fire built on her skin and in

her core, swelling her pussy again. She sobbed and moaned, but bore the increasing

pain to reap the raging sensations it left and the rivers of heat flowing through her

entire being.

There was a limit and she finally reached it, a place where the pain was just too

much to absorb and transform any longer, and her strength waned while arousal

peaked.

“Make me come,” she cried. “Please. Make me come now.”
The flogger clattered as it dropped to the floor, then he was behind her, drawing

her against him. He erect cock slipped between her legs, the tip finding its way into her

slit. One arm went around her chest, and fingers tweaked a nipple still sensitive from

the clamps’ grip earlier, while his other hand cupped her sex.

His chest hair rubbed the grated skin of her back. His fingers parted her labia and

sought her clit, while his cock slid inside. She melted, gave herself over to him, became

part of him. And ecstasy surged over her in waves, growing higher and higher as he

assaulted every pleasure center, until it broke in such a huge explosion of release, she

screamed her triumph.

Later, when she could begin to breathe and think again, she felt him move and

release her bindings. He caught her when she would have slumped to the floor and

Secret Santa Sir

instead picked her up in his arms, carrying her into his bedroom. He lowered her onto

the bed and she felt him lie down beside her before he drew off the blindfold.

He looked into her eyes. “Maggie?”
She wasn’t sure what the question was, but she knew the answer anyway. “That

would rank as one of the most amazing experiences of my life.”

And it was the right answer. His worried expression lightened to a smile. “Mine

too. But I think a hot shower is in order. You’re going to be sore, I’m afraid. Especially

down here.” His hand brushed along the inside of one thigh.

“I’m hoping so.” Maggie looked down at herself. All down the front, she wore a

web of fine pink lines which joined in some places to make red patches. Her breasts

glowed from the flogger’s attention. The insides of her thighs bore thrilling ladders of

deep-red lines from above the knee to close to her pussy. Some of them had darkened to

blue-black. Those would be with her for a while.

“Why?” He ran a hand over her abdomen, feeling the welts that had accumulated

there.

“Because they’re a gift from you, and I want to keep them as long as possible,” she

explained.

His smile made her heart lurch and stutter. She had to admit it, at least to herself.

She loved him.

But then he kissed her and the heat roused between them again, and a few minutes

later he was inside her, pumping away. Her orgasm wasn’t as violent that time, but it

was deeper and sweeter, even more so because she got to watch the pleasure it gave

him as well as feel it herself.

Later, much later, after they’d napped and made love once more, they finally got up

and got dressed. Only then, when her stomach growled a loud protest, did she realize

that they hadn’t eaten lunch, and it was getting dark outside.

“Can you sit if we go out to dinner?” Sean asked. “I feel like celebrating.”
“I can sit. What are we celebrating?”
“Christmas in two days. A great time today. Whatever you want to celebrate.”
“Okay.” She put on makeup and did the best she could with her hair. Next time

she’d pack her hair dryer to bring over.

He took her to a really nice and expensive restaurant near the harbor. “We are

celebrating,” she commented as she looked at the place once they’d been seated. “I’ve

heard about this place but I’ve never been here.”

“Neither have I,” he admitted. “But it seemed appropriate.”
She was actually having a little trouble sitting. Fortunately the chairs were

cushioned since her thighs and bottom were sore. He noted her discomfort with a wry

grin, but he said, “We have some important things to discuss.”

Katherine Kingston

100

She just looked at him, but waited while the waiter took their wine order.
“Tomorrow is the last of the twelve days I asked you for,” he pointed out. “We

need to talk about where we go from here. We can just say it’s over and go our separate

ways. Or we can decide it’s worth exploring further.” He stopped a moment but before

she could say anything, he continued. “Since I instigated it in the first place and offered

the conditions, I suppose I have to tell you that I’d like to continue. I think we have

something special together. Something I’ve never found with any other woman.

Something I really didn’t expect to find at all, in truth.”

He looked down and unrolled the napkin, spreading it in his lap. “If that isn’t what

you want, I’ll respect that, of course.” He raised his head and met her eyes again.

“Sean, you must know that these past two weeks have been the most exciting of my

life. Yes, I want to continue.”

His smile combined relief and joy. “Good. I have a question for you then, and I

want a completely honest answer. What do you want from this relationship?”

She drew a deep breath and hesitated. He wanted honesty… “In truth, I’m not sure.

At first, it was nothing but an adventure, a Christmas fling, stepping a bit outside my

comfort zone, into something I’ve always wanted to try. I got a bit more than I

bargained for. In several ways. It’s all…more exciting than I ever guessed. And there’s

more to it than I expected. Something deeper and… I don’t know. But I want to explore

it more.”

“What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not—Okay, yes, I am. I’m afraid that I want this too much. I enjoy this too

much. I don’t know if I can give it up, without tearing a hole in myself. But I don’t see

how we could build a future around a relationship like this.”

“We?” He asked it very softly, barely above a whisper.
“I… Maybe I have no right to say this, but I can’t imagine doing this kind of thing

with anyone else.”

“You’ve every right to say it, and I’m thrilled to hear it. I’m happy to continue

exploring what we have, even after the holidays. Perhaps we should just leave the rest

for the moment. What are your plans for Christmas?”

It took her a moment to catch up with his abrupt change of subject. Or was it? “I

generally spend the day with my family. I’ll drive down to my parents’ place early in

the morning and come back after dinner. What about you?”

“Sleep late, bum around the house for a bit, visit a couple of friends to deliver gifts,

go over to the nursing center and have dinner with my grandmother in the cafeteria.

They go all out for the holiday, even if she really can’t appreciate it anymore.”

“The agenda of a really wild and crazy bachelor,” Maggie commented.
“What about after Christmas? Are you taking any time off?”
“The whole week. I’ve got a bunch of time I haven’t taken and I can’t carry it all

over.”

Secret Santa Sir

101

“I know. I’m in the same position. Would you be interested in doing something

together that week? Maybe even run away for a few days? We could scoot down to the

Outer Banks and try to find some warmer weather.”

Her breath caught. He wanted to continue to explore this relationship beyond the

Christmas fling. So did she. And maybe, if they were lucky, they could find a way to

forge a reasonable future together.

She admitted it to herself. She wanted that. Wanted Sean. Not just the things he did

to her and made her feel, but the man himself. “That sounds like fun. I’d like that.”

Katherine Kingston

102

Chapter Thirteen

Day Twelve—Sunday, Dec. 24

Maggie found a gold gift bag with red tissue paper sitting on the kitchen table the

next morning. A note was propped up against it.

Gone to get a few things. Back by ten. Open this while I’m gone.—Sean

She poured herself a cup of coffee before she tackled the bag.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, twelve vows for the future, a test

of her submission, ten erotic costumes, a cat with nine tails, eight willow switches, seven

whiplashes, six cane strokes, five leather belts. Four chains to bind, a three-tailed strap, two pink

ass cheeks and a collar to show he loves and cherishes me.

My dearest Maggie—

I was delighted to hear that you want to go on with the relationship and even more so that

you feel the special connection between us. I believe we’ve been blessed with something rare and

beautiful and I’m not sure an entire lifetime would be enough time to explore all the facets of it.

Something I should have said last night, but couldn’t work up the nerve. I love you.
I think I have since the first moment I saw you, the day after I started work at Mason

Avionics. At first I found it hard to believe someone as beautiful and intelligent and poised as

you could possibly be unattached. Then I couldn’t believe you would ever be interested in

someone as geeky and awkward and gruff as myself.

Discovering that we had a common sexual interest was a shock, but it offered me a ray of

hope for the first time, and a way to approach you.

Part of me wants to offer you a ring right now and ask you to marry me, but I’m not going

to. Yet. We’ve only been a couple for two weeks, after all, and while I’m reasonably sure you’re

the only woman I want, the only one I’ll ever want, I know that you still have doubts.

Instead I’m offering a collar, a sign of your submission to me, one whose significance is a

secret between the two of us. It commits you to nothing but your submission for as long as you

choose to wear it.

And I’m offering a list of twelve vows I’m willing to make to you right now. The first six

relate to our relationship as it is right now.

Secret Santa Sir

103

I will always respect your wishes about the things we do. If you tell me that something I do

doesn’t work for you, we won’t do it again.

I will never do anything that might cause you humiliation or serious injury.
I will never strike you with a closed fist or above the neck.
I will always honor your safe words.
I will be faithful to you.
Outside the sexual games we play, I will respect you as an intelligent, competent adult and

an equal partner in the relationship.

These six are for the future, should we decide to take our relationship to a different place and

have a family.

I will make every effort to find ways to let us continue the recreational activities we love.
I will protect our privacy so that our activities are known only to those we wish to share

them with.

I will support you and any family we have to the best of my ability.
I will love and cherish any children we might have. I will attempt to be the best father

possible and will raise and discipline them in ways that are normal and healthy.

Our private activities will have no effect on how I interact with my children.
I will love you forever.

All these things I vow to try to live. If you’re ready to give it a try, put on the enclosed and

wear it for me.

Sean

Maggie read the note several times. It got harder and harder to see through the

tears. He promised everything she thought she could want. And she believed it.

Believed he meant it. He might not be able to keep those promises, but the fact that he

was willing to make them…

For the first time, she felt real hope that it was possible.
She dug in the bag to find a box about six inches long and about an inch wide. Her

fingers shook as she prized it open to find a necklace, made of many small gold bars

linked together in a pattern that would lie like a shallow vee below her throat. She

sucked in a breath. It was beautiful.

She put it in her pocket before gathering up the dishes and loading the dishwasher.

Sean returned while she was wiping off the countertops.

About Katherine Kingston

I’m really very ordinary, you know, so it’s hard to know what to say. I’m a mom

and a grandma. I do laundry and clean house (well, sometimes) and wash dishes like

everyone else. I grew up in New York (the city, that is) and moved to North Carolina

some thirty years ago. I discovered books early and buried myself in them as much as

possible as a child and a teenager. I still love sinking into a good book and getting

swept away.

I’m an unabashed reader of genre books. I love mysteries, romance, science fiction

and fantasy. Horror, not so much. I wrote my first short story at the age of ten, but I

didn’t take up writing seriously until many years later. I love the Medieval period and

did a great deal of research into it while in college, even though it wasn’t my field.

That’s why my historical erotic romances are set in that period.

I dream a lot, too, which makes writing the perfect vocation for me. How else can

you claim to be working when you’re sitting in an armchair staring out the window?

Katherine welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email

addresses on her

author bio page

www.ellorascave.com

Tell Us What You Think

We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email

the author

directly or you can email us at

Service@ellorascave.com

(when contacting Customer

Service, be sure to state the book title and author).

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Secret Santa Sir

ISBN 9781419943591

Edited by Briana St. James

Cover design by Syneca

Photos: Yeko Photo Studio/Shutterstock.com and Anatoly Tipluashin/Fotolia.com

Electronic book publication November 2012

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