Mischief Under The Mistletoe

by Maren Smith

  “Why didn’t you use a proper ladder, princess? Or ask me, or someone else, to help you? Why did you choose to risk getting hurt, instead? Do you want to spend Christmas on crutches, or with your arm in a sling? How would you race Rose on Boxing Day if you’re injured?”

  “I’m sorry, daddy, I just didn’t think.”

  “Your recklessness has gotten you in trouble before, hasn’t it?”

  Bianca felt herself blush. It had indeed, more than once.

  “But you don’t seem to have learned your lesson.” Disappointment laced Clay’s voice and Bianca’s stomach twisted with guilt. She hated disappointing her daddy; she’d rather face his anger than hear the note of bitter disappointment in his tone that she was hearing right now.

  Clay’s fingers went to either side of her face, holding her firmly, and even though his hands were cool, her skin tingled electrically at his touch.

  “I’m very disappointed in you, baby girl,” he scolded. “You’re mine—it’s very important that you take good care of what’s mine. You’re very special to me, princess, and you’re not allowed to be careless of reckless or disregard your personal safety. I love you too much to allow you to do that.”

  Despite trying, she couldn’t pull her eyes away from his, and she couldn’t ignore the passion that was smouldering in his gaze.

  “I’m sorry, daddy.” Her voice came out as little more than a squeak, but it was the best she could do right now. It was a miracle that she could talk at all, really, with such a big, handsome, dominant man holding her face so firmly, and so close to his own, staring at her hard like that. Her skin still tingled where Clay touched it, igniting fire within her, sending bolts of lightning to that special spot between her legs that craved his dominance.

  “Come on then, princess,” he said, his tone full of possession. “Let’s go and spank that bare bottom of yours, teach you a lesson. Daddy is going to light up that ass like a Christmas tree. Then you might think twice before making foolish decisions, hmm?”

  Letting go of her face, Clay took her hand and led her away, to the flat they shared at the back of the stable complex.

  Her face felt bare and exposed without his fingers there, as though she were missing a part of her. She knew she was blushing; the gentle breeze was cool on her hot cheeks. A shiver went down her spine and she swallowed hard, but she followed him obediently. “Yes daddy,” she whispered.

  The closer they got to their flat, the more the butterflies in Bianca’s tummy fluttered around. Her nerve endings were on fire and her throat was constricted, making it difficult to breathe. Somehow, the thought of a punishment spanking from her daddy still made her nervous, even though Clay had spanked her dozens of times before.

  “Aside from being careless with what belongs to me, this is a workplace,” Clay reminded her, his voice stern. “Do you have any idea how much paperwork is involved in workplace injuries? Do you have any idea of the kind of fines we can cop because of stupidity? I don’t know why I ever agreed to go along with this Christmas Santa thing. Already, it’s causing problems.”

  Following along behind Clay, Bianca mentally kicked herself. His lecture made her feel so small, but she didn’t speak up in her defence. What was there to say? She’d already said she was sorry.

  Scolding thoughts kept swirling around in her brain. Why did she keep on doing things like that? She’d known before she’d even climbed up on it that standing on the upended hay bale was a bad idea. She’d known by the way it wobbled precariously that it was dangerous. The stables were busy at this time of year—she couldn’t afford to be off work to nurse an injury. And yet, she’d done it anyway. She’d been so obsessed with hanging the Christmas lights that she hadn’t taken the time to find a safe way to do that.

  She gulped as Clay opened the front door to their home. Almost brand new, this accommodation had been added on to the end of the barn when it had been rebuilt after a fire just a couple of years ago, and the apartment, while small, was cosy. She glanced around the small living room quickly; there would be room for a Christmas tree in the corner, if she found a compact one. She smiled at the thought, then squealed as Clay sat down on the couch and pulled her down across his thighs. Her t-shirt rode up and the rough denim on Clay’s legs scratched against the tender skin of her belly. She felt his fingers in the waistband of her shorts and she quivered as he tugged them and her knickers down, baring her bottom to his gaze. A cool breeze blew in from the open window, caressing her naked skin, making her shiver.

  The window! Shut the window! she wanted to say, but she knew it was no good. Clay would refuse; he would be pleased that the open window added to her humiliation. The mortification was all in her head though—the stable complex was empty now, all the staff had gone home. The only person who could potentially hear was Cody, who could be anywhere on the farm. If he was nearby, and that was a big if as the farm was huge, he would hear the evidence of her spanking. He would hear the smacks, he would hear her cries. He might remember the times he had spanked her himself, and wonder what she had done to deserve punishment this time. But he would not come to her rescue.

  That knowledge made her flush with shame and her tummy turn flips.

  With one hand, Clay rubbed her bottom, his large hand with his strong fingers splayed out covering most of her backside at once. His other hand rested possessively in the small of her back, comforting her; claiming her.

  Bianca was tense as Clay continued to rub and she ticced, grabbing hold of his leg to stop herself from falling off. Although she didn’t really know why she wanted to stay where she was, bare-bottomed over Clay’s thighs, it seemed the better option than falling off into the plush carpet beneath their feet.

  “You’ve been a naughty little girl, haven’t you, princess?” Clay scolded, his deep voice rumbling through her. “A very reckless, careless little girl who made a decision that could have gotten her hurt.”

  She exhaled quickly as he squeezed her buttocks, his strong fingers grabbing a handful of flesh, kneading it, twisting it, digging in.

  “It is my job to take care of you, isn’t it, princess?”

  “Yes, daddy,” Bianca breathed, her voice barely audible, her body filled with tension.

  “And you make my job so much harder when you break the rules, don’t you little girl?” Clay stopped squeezing then, to bring his hand down instead in a harsh slap that landed with a burning sting and echoed around the small room.

  “Ow! Yes, daddy!” Bianca whimpered.

  “What rule did you break, princess?” Another sharp swat fell, branding her left cheek, making her cry out. She wanted to reach back and protect her bottom, but Clay had effectively trapped one hand with his body, and her other one was clutching his pants leg tightly, her fingers wrapped around the denim in a death-grip. Even worse, she had no idea how to answer his question. As far as she knew, she didn’t even have any rules.

  Two more smacks fell in quick succession, one to each cheek, and Clay’s flattened palm was starting to really sting and burn now.

  “I don’t know, daddy,” she gasped.

  She bucked and wriggled in response to the flurry of solid slaps that fell in a random pattern, searing her backside, but Clay held her firmly. When the smacks stopped falling she felt him rest his hand on the crest of her bottom; the coolness of his palm soothed her burning skin.

  “What do we use to stand on when we need to reach up high, princess?” Clay questioned, his voice gruff. His erection dug into her hip and though tears stung her eyes and threatened to fall, she smiled.

  “A ladder, daddy.”

  “Good girl.” The gentle rubbing he resumed showed her he was pleased with her response and her smile widened. “We have quite a selection of ladders and stepladders, don’t we baby girl? Anybody is welcome to use them. Is any member of staff allowed to stand on anything else?”

  “No daddy,” she whispered, not trusting herself to speak properly.

  “Have other staff members been haule
d over the coals for not following the safety procedures we have in place? Health and safety in the workplace is very important to us here at Lewis Stables, isn’t it princess?”

  “Yes daddy.”

  Clay, like his father before him, was big on safety in the stables. More than once, she’d heard him chew out staff members for being careless. Her pussy had always tightened in response to seeing that authoritative side to Clay come out, even when it hadn’t been directed at her. The alpha man oozed authority and dominance, and watching him in action turned her on so much. She always got a little bit excited when someone breached the safety regulations, just so she could watch Clay tell them off. Or haul them up to his office for a formal warning, if it had happened too many times before. And now, with his wrath directed at her, she was torn between the heat in her pussy causing the slickness between her thighs, and her distress at the burning, throbbing pain in her backside.

  “What could you have done if you couldn’t find a ladder? Could you have asked someone for help? Daddy would have helped you; that’s what daddies do. Daddies like to help their little girls.”

  Bianca nearly melted under his touch as his strong fingers continued to rub and squeeze her sore backside, and his other hand rested lightly, possessively, on her back.

  “I’m sorry daddy. I will use a ladder next time, I promise.”

  “I know you will, princess. And just to make sure you remember, I’m going to spank you hard. When I’m done, your bottom is going to look like Rudolph’s nose. Or Santa’s jacket. Take your pick.”

  Clay tipped her forward slightly over his left thigh, and threw his right leg over both of hers to pin her in place. He grabbed her dangling wrist with his free hand and held it tightly against her back, securing her in position. She couldn’t move; she was held fast. She shivered in nervous anticipation. Her bottom was already sore, and Clay had barely begun to light a fire on it!

  “Ow! Ow! Ow!” True to his word, Clay spanked hard. The smacks landed quickly, ferociously, without a pause, for a full minute, and although Bianca squirmed and fought, she was no match for his strength, and Clay held her in place effortlessly as he spanked her soundly.

  The sting in her rear end was building to unbearable levels. She was sure flames must be dancing across it as Clay’s flattened palm fell harshly, relentlessly. Her bottom throbbed and burned, the searing pain pulsing in time with the beat of her racing heart. Her breath was coming in short, ragged puffs as she tried to hold her breath against the pain for as long as possible, then alternated with gasping for oxygen through air that was too thick to breathe.

  Years of working with horses had hardened Clay’s hands to the texture of old leather, and they imparted a fierce sting on Bianca’s scorched skin. She tried to kick her legs, but Clay’s leg over hers held them down; there was no escaping from the swats that fell over and over and over again.

  “I’m sorry, daddyyyyyyyy!” The last word ended on a wail, a high-pitched, desperate, cry which broke into sobs. Tears flowed down her face unchecked; she couldn’t stop them any more than she could stop the spanking.

  There was a brief pause as Clay raised his leg higher and tipped her forward a bit more but it was only a short reprieve; the swats came back as burny and stingy as ever—to the back of her thighs and the base of her bottom, this time. She felt his fingers land right in the crease where her bottom met her thighs and it burned something awful.

  “Please stop, please daddy, please stop!” she begged, feeling panic welling up within her. She hated being spanked to this point, to the point of panic. She hated even more being spanked to beyond that point, being spanked until she was a sobbing, helpless mess. But that was what was happening.

  “No baby girl, you don’t get to decide when this spanking ends. I want to make sure you actually learn your lesson this time.”

  “I’m learning daddy, I’m learning!” she yelled, desperation in her tone.

  “I know you are princess,” Clay murmured. “And you will.”

  Clay’s hard hand continued to land with force on alternate butt cheeks, torturing her, the stinging increasing to the point where she couldn’t even protest. She couldn’t even fight any more; she could only lie helpless, sobbing pathetically, without the ability to even form coherent words, over Clay’s lap, as Clay’s hard hand smacked on and on and on.

  JUST AS CLAY HAD PROMISED, Bianca’s bottom was now glowing red, bright and shiny, lit up like a Christmas tree, from the good spanking he’d just given her. His hand was stinging too, so he knew she’d be sore. It was a harsh punishment for such a small misdemeanour, but his baby girl needed a good cry. She was totally stressed out which was not helping her tics at all, and he knew how badly she needed the cathartic tears.

  She lay across his thighs, sobbing and miserable, and he gazed down at her, his heart swelling with so much love he thought it would burst. How could such a tiny woman claim his heart so completely?

  Absently, he rubbed her bright red bottom gently, slowly, tracing circles over her burning buns. He could feel the heat radiating off her; he knew she was sore. He wished he could rub away the sting, but he knew it didn’t work like that. The best he could do was comfort her, cuddle her close, show her how much he cherished her, and kiss her forehead tenderly in that way she loved so much. When she was calm, he would help her put up the rest of those lights; it was clearly important to her, which meant it was important to him, too.

  Slowly, her sobs subsided, her sniffles eased, and she made a move to get up. Slipping his hand under her waist he helped her, lifting her to a sitting position on his lap, loving the way her body curled around his, nestling into his chest, fitting so perfectly. Leaning down, he dropped a kiss on her hair while she cuddled in close. “I love you, princess,” he murmured in her ear.

  “I love you too, daddy.” Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying as she looked up at him and she wound his shirt in her fingers. His heart melted.

  “Come on princess, let’s go get those lights up, shall we?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  APPREHENSION, ALMOST dread, lodged in the pit of her stomach. Clay had offered her his credit card and told her to buy whatever Christmas decorations she wanted, to spruce up their little space, but she’d been adamant: she wanted the decorations from her childhood. The treasured mementoes held memories of Annie, memories of happier times. She wanted the huge, glittering gold star that they’d made out of wire and papier-mâché; she wanted the long strands of feathery tinsel that they’d had so much fun wrapping around everything in sight. She wanted the precious glass baubles, the set of miniature snow-globe ornaments that had been a present from Granny so many years ago. The little hanging reindeer and Santa Claus in his sleigh... so many items that had epitomised Christmas for them both.

  It felt bizarre to be unlocking the front door of her childhood home with the key that she hadn’t used for years. Walking inside, the house felt cold, empty, unwelcoming. Of course, she’d known it would be empty; since getting back together after Annie’s death, her parents had done a lot of travelling together and were currently on a Pacific Island cruise. But without Annie’s laughter gracing the halls, the house felt like a shell, rather than a home.

  Although it was so close to Christmas, not a single decoration was in sight. No Christmas cards stood displayed on the mantle, no tinsel hung from the breakfast bar as it had done when they were kids; no tree stood proudly in the corner. No doubt the decorations were still stuffed into the tatty old cardboard box she’d put them when she’d taken them down last, abandoned to the cupboard under the stairs, most likely forgotten about. But she could never forget. Those simple decorations held so many memories.

  Cobwebs stuck to her face and dust burned her lungs, making her cough violently, as she hauled the box out into the hallway. Obviously, no one had been in that storage cupboard for a very long time.

  Straightening up, the row of pictures running the length of the hallway caught her eye. Annie and her as children, th
eir golden hair streaming out behind them as they rode their bikes; another one of them in the fort they’d built on the back verandah; several of them playing on the swings at the local park. Those pictures hadn’t been there before. Moving closer, she traced her fingers lightly over the outline of Annie’s body, trying to remember the day the picture had been taken, but coming up empty. Panic gripped her, seizing her in its mighty clutches, filling her insides with a cold dread. She was forgetting. She couldn’t forget!

  Breathing hard, frustrated at her failing memory, she stumbled down the hallway to the end room, the room that had always been Annie’s. She needed to be closer to Annie, to feel her presence, then maybe she would be able to remember.

  The door was open and sunlight flooded the room. The beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she entered the room that housed all Annie’s belongings, then she screamed. It was empty! All Annie’s things... gone.

  The yellow wallpaper that Annie had chosen when she was 10 had been replaced with a pale grey paint, the butterfly curtains that Annie had also picked had been replaced with a navy blue roman blind and the wooden bookshelf that had always housed Annie’s books and most treasured possessions was gone, to be replaced by matching modern furniture: a headboard on a new Queen size bed, identical side tables, and a dresser. Goosebumps prickled the back of her neck as she scanned the room, anger and loss welling up within her. It wasn’t fair. Not only was Annie gone, now so too were all her things... the material part of Annie: her room, her things, all gone.

  “It’s all gone!” Bianca stared around the room in disbelief, shocked to her core. “No! Annie! They’ve taken you away!”

  Her heart pounding so hard she thought the walls of her chest wouldn’t contain the organ, she stumbled out of the room, tears blurring her vision, grabbed up the box of decorations that she’d come for, and ran from the house.

  Somehow, she managed to drive home, even though tears of betrayal and hurt coursed down her cheeks. It was unbelievable. They’d disposed of everything, revamping the entire room, extinguishing every sign that Annie had ever been there.