Aubrey’s Weird Christmas (25)
Thanks
Some days ago, my friend Blair P. Clavel challenged me to write a story according to the rules of nficstoryboard.com: “The Great 25 lines of Dialog – Story Contest”. Although my nickname may seem familiar to you, I’m a native French Speaking Writer. Therefore, because it’s my very first time publishing in English, I’m grateful for all the help he gave me.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed are fictitious. No identification with actual persons or places is intended or should be inferred. All pertinent characters represented in this story are 18 years of age or older.
Foreword
With his red suit easily recognizable, the arrival in the store windows of the fat bearded man reminds us that the end of the year celebrations of the are upon us. Also, whether he lives at the North Pole or in Alaska for some, or even Lapland for others, everyone knows that he will make children happy.
However, long before the appearance of this character inspired by mass consumerism, in the countries where Christmas is celebrated, Saint Nicholas was already on the scene. Unlike the nowadays famous Santa Claus, he did not travel alone but he was always accompanied by an assistant. Thus, while the Catholic saint distributes delicious treats to good children, his terrible companion punishes those who have been naughty.
This dark, dirty and black bearded man, adept at corporal punishment, armed with a large bag and a whip of sticks is known by the evocative name, ‘Old Man Whipper’. In German-speaking Switzerland he is called, ‘Schmutzli.’
*
* *
The news was not good. Since the airport had gone into reduced service, all transatlantic flights were being diverted to Geneva and, as Christmas approached, Aubrey’s airline was still unable to provide her with a flight back to Miami.
Outside, the snowstorm seemed to be increasing in intensity, yet far from worrying about it, she was taking full advantage of this forced vacation to spend a few more days in this charming little hotel in the heart of the Swiss mountains where her very first trade seminar had been held.
The hubbub of the dinner had long since given way to silence and now that the room had emptied, only the glow of the embers in the fireplace dimly lit the armchairs in the small living room. Lulled by the pleasant warmth of the fireplace, she had simply curled up comfortably on a sofa before dozing off. The blaze of the beginning of the evening had gradually softened, and while the fire gradually burned itself out, the declining temperature of the room had drawn her from her sleep.
Abandoning for a moment her warm blanket, dropping it at her feet, she stoked the fire, adding a few large logs. She was now certain that what was there would burn the remainder of the night. Then, as hypnotized by the dance of the flames which seemed to play on the burning logs in the fireplace, in her turn, she benefited fully from being able to bask in front of the fire which spread slowly to the wood she had added, extending her arms overhead, stretching her lithe form gracefully while basking in the nurturing warmth of the fire.
Aubrey caught a whiff of something pleasant, but it was also an aroma that she couldn’t quite place. Before she could discover its origin, a deep voice called out to her.
“I expect that you have often been told that you have beautiful curves”
Turning abruptly, her gaze was drawn to the glow of a pipe in the shadows of the room.
“Who’s there? What do you want?” she asked, disturbed by this unexpected presence.
In the dim-light, she thought she recognized the silhouette of a man in one of the armchairs, but as he was backlit she was struggling to distinguish his features. He was large with the appearance of a lumberjack, only something strange seemed to sparkle in the middle of a thick black beard. She stood for a moment, staring at him, while the impassive man was still drawing on what looked to be a long wooden pipe.
“It doesn’t matter who I am,” he answered, emerging from his silence. “I’ve been watching you for a while.”
“Are you here to talk to me?”
“Do you see anyone else?” he asked, in a mocking tone.
She nodded without a word, a bit disappointed by the obvious stupidity of her question.
“I’m an old man and it’s been a long time since I’ve been alone with such a beautiful woman. Would you allow me the pleasure of enjoying your company a little longer?”
“Why not? Besides, what else do you want me to do here tonight?” she said, a touch of disappointment in the tone of her voice. “Since all my friends are probably having fun somewhere in the Keys back home in Florida. You know the « Sunshine State», unlike here, which is more those of the snow and wind!”
Unperturbed, the man was still smoking his pipe while amusing himself, sensing her agitation.
“How many heads did you turn, how many libidos did you inflame. Essentially teasing them, knowing that there wouldn’t be any satisfaction in it for them.”
A wide smile lit up Aubrey’s face as she remembered in an instant how she never hesitated to use her charms to get her way.
“That’s not my goal, but I must admit that a well-placed smile can sometimes melt the most hardened,” Aubrey said.
“We are alone tonight, and the hotel is asleep. Will you be the one to melt me?”
“Certainly not old pervert! Who do you take me for?”
“Such a pity, I would have liked to watch you dance. Would you dance for me?”
She remained motionless a long moment to meditate his words while the smoke from his pipe seemed to fog her senses. Undecided, she couldn’t decide if she should flee from the lecherous man or, simply obey him. What was she risking after all, the escapades of her most recent Spring Break had been much worse and tomorrow she would probably be back on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.
The logs she had just put in the fireplace had caught fire, and, the heat from the fireplace was becoming more and more unbearable. Yet, as if held in place by a magic spell, she dared not move away, as if invisible hands were holding her where she was. A buzzing sound, the ticking of the cuckoo clock, the breath of wind in the fireplace had become a soft music and this sustained rhythm made her vibrate. So, in spite of her apprehensions, she slowly began to sway. The strange wisps of smoke with perfumed scents that had invaded the room were perhaps the cause, but now that they had obscured her thoughts, she didn’t care, she only wanted to dance. To dance for herself, to dance for this man, but especially to offer herself for his lustful viewing pleasure, just as he had requested.
Alone in the small living room, eyes closed, she undulated gently in front of the immense fireplace while, taken in an infinite round dance, the shadow cast by her form seemed to play across the walls as if inspired by a wild rhythm. Always under the attentive eye of this strange man that she felt powerless to defy, her will was dissolving, and it felt natural to let her dress slip down to her feet when he finally suggested that she get rid of it.
Satisfied with her involvement, his eyes sparkled as if subjugated by her incredible presence.
“Good girls don’t wear underwear. Are you a good girl?”
“I think so… Sir,” she answered, reddening with embarrassment.
Wearing little more than her panties in front of the stranger in the dim-light, she knew that his attention would be directed to even the slightest of her movements and that he took pleasure in her embarrassment. Never before had she had offered herself in such a spectacle, however, in spite of her apprehension she couldn’t stop herself. Also, like a challenge which she had to take up, she seized with both hands the elastic of her tanga-cut panties and slowly slid it down her toned legs. Without the least provocation, she undid herself almost naturally, but whereas she was going to throw it close to her dress, the sound of his voice stopped her abruptly.
“Give it to me, so I can make sure you are really the good girl you claim to be.”
Facing the fireplace, he couldn’t see her face, but she felt herself blushing with shame. Did he sense it? Would she be the kind of girl he was waiting for while, on the contrary, this situation was turning her on terribly? This old pervert had perhaps already understood this and she could not hide her embarrassment. She imagined that he might already be intoxicated by her intimate fragrances. Desperately she tried to fold her panties, but before she could raise her head, he snatched them from her hands with the tip of his wooden cane. Her movement suddenly stopped, she remained still in front of him, hands firmly placed over her swollen sex which she did not dare to reveal to him.
The man seemed to play with her like a kitten while she shifted from one leg to the other, her gaze fixed on her panties that he twirled slowly in front of her. Finally, realizing her worst fears, he simply threw them into the flames which crackled upon contact.
Glad he didn’t discover how wet were her panties, she remained silent, motionless, head down in front of him while only the glow of his pipe signaled his presence.
“Modesty is a luxury that you can no longer afford. Why are you hiding? Come closer, so I can see you better.”
She hesitated to leave the soft warmth of the hearth, but the relative feeling of intimacy that enveloped her nakedness in a veil of darkness reassured her as she moved towards the man. She knew that she was close to him. She felt his breath against her naked skin, whereas the smoke swirling in the room continued to cloud her senses. Did he appreciate her toned forms she presented him, her small flat belly, and the curve of her buttocks? Was he, disappointed by her small breasts that she would have liked to be fuller?
The tapping of his cane upon her wrists pulled her from her thoughts and almost without flinching, she shifted them to her lower back, bowing to his wishes. She closed her eyes, deeply embarrassed to offer to his gaze the soft folds of her femininity. Petrified, she did not dare to move, as she waited for the contact of his hands on her trembling skin.
A soft heat seemed to want to play with her breasts, making at once her nipples stiffening. Then, going down slowly against her chest it ended up losing itself against the soft shapes of her body making her to shiver. Her breathing had become shorter, more chopped and now that her pubis seemed to be the center of its attention this waiting had become to her almost unbearable.
Suddenly she let out a scream of fright when, breaking the spell of this magical moment, she opened her eyes and suddenly saw that his long pipe was approaching dangerously close to her pussy.
“Do not move! Let me show you how to really dance for me,” the man ordered in a confident voice, immediately plunging her into a senseless terror.
Trembling, all her attention was caught by this small disc of fire glowing from the man’s pipe, which in one moment could have devoured her. However, as hypnotized by this ultimate perspective, she did not dare to resist him and undulated already as she felt this redoubtable heat going down along the sensitive ridge of her clitoral hood.
She swung thus for a long time, offering herself with anguish the soft charms of her intimacy, sometimes stretching her legs on the tip of her feet, sometimes slowly undulating her pelvis, abandoning herself always more to the liking of the movements of these embers which went and came between her thighs. Taken in this lewd trance, she had suddenly been set on fire. Subjugated by this lascivious game, she felt her intimate juices oozing out of her sex that she delivered so brazenly whereas unable to appease her turgid clitoris, this soft but also terrible heat would have licked her willingly until the excess, insinuating itself until the deepest of her anatomy. Taken by the rhythm of this incredible ride, her hands wandered frantically against her buttocks, against her groin or on her breasts, which they made them wriggle, sometimes lingering in her hair as for better making undulate her bust.
Not daring to get rid of this terrible embrace, all her senses were on alert, as in the lookout of this cruel threat which however had disappeared for a long time. Also, as carried by a whirlwind of voluptuousness, she had delivered herself thus until the exhaustion before collapsing at his feet.
Panting, the beating heart, kneeling in front of this man of which she could not even define the features, she remained still, staggered that she could have let herself go to such a performance. Straightening up a little, sitting on her buttocks, she could almost feel the corolla of her flower pulsating with desire between her open thighs. Slowly, her fingers slid down to her sex but a cold shiver made her flinch when she discovered that the delicate blond stubble that, only moments ago, still lined her pubic area, was gone.
“What have you done to me? What is happening to me?” she asked puzzled.
He amused himself a moment of her surprise before answering her calmly.
“I did nothing other than to pay homage to your beauty, the good girls always take care to be thus. Do you like it?”
“It’s as if I had become a little girl again! She immediately shouted. How did you…?” she didn’t finish her sentence, still amazed that he could so easily play her.
“Do little girls know what a clitoris is? Show me how much you love yours.”
She would never have dared to masturbate like that, but this incredible request was already sounding like an order to her. She couldn’t explain it to herself, but the desires of this man seemed to penetrate more and more her subconscious mind, and with each new request he asked her, they imprinted themselves on her in an indelible way like if she was branded with a red-hot iron.
Never in her life she had degraded herself thus, however, never either she had also felt being a woman, whereas exploring the very new sweetness of her pubic mound she had rediscovered its treasures. The intense satisfaction that she drew from having given herself up totally to him in this lewd dance always made her buzz and while all her sex burning of desire waited no more than her attention, she did not delay to taste the delights of the voluptuousness while a powerful orgasm ravaged her, leaving her barely clinging onto consciousness.
Suddenly, the man got carried away, pulling her at once of the pleasant torpor in which she had wrapped herself.
“How dare you? Who allowed you to behave like this, so casually, and to get an orgasm without being allowed to?”
Troubled by this unpredictable and brutal change of tone, she almost straightened up in a jump. A sudden tension in her breasts pricked her, but she almost didn’t notice it so much she feared that the man would lose his temper. Abashed, she’d rather questioned him.
“But, didn’t you ask me to…?”
Intrigued however, she carried her hands to her chest, and discovered at once that rings adorned her hardened nipples. Astonished by their sudden presence, she rolled them against her skin for a while, totally mystified by this man’s magical talent, unable to understand how he had been able to place these jewels without her even noticing it. It is then that her blood froze with fright when, wanting to get rid of them, she understood with horror that far from being removable as she imagined, they were on the contrary deeply set through her sensitive flesh.
In a jump she tried at once to rise and to approach the light of the hearth to be sure of it, but she froze when the weight of gold which girdled her clitoris, pulled brutally her tiny love button out of its fleshy hiding hood. Instinctively, she tried to alleviate this throbbing pain, but while her fingers crushed against the smooth walls of a metal shell, she staggered one moment before falling heavily on her knees, stunned.
“How did you do it? How could you?” she moaned at once, incredulous while she hastened nervously to define the contours this ornament which had suddenly seized her intimacy.
Unable to get rid of the embrace of this diabolical belt of which she had not even found the closing, she stomped of rage against the armchair, pestering against this pervert who was getting drunk of her distress. Well decided to make her listen to reason, of a firm voice, he froze her anger, captivating at once all her attention.
“You’ve been a very bad girl, and bad girls must be punished.”
“But why? What the hell have I done to you?”
“Good girls should always ask permission…”
Only a scowling mumble echoed as she still struggled to free herself.
“For that and everything else, you deserve a good spanking. So that’s why I’m here tonight.”
“A spanking? Like a child, never!” she choked.
“You’re free to refuse, but are you ready to face the consequences? Do understand that without me, you will never again be able to appease this desire that I lit in you and which, if you do not take care of it, will not delay to consume your will. Soon, it is greedy of an insatiable lust that you will call me, that you will beg me to release you but then it will be too late.”
She lowered her eyes as she resigned herself, bitterly noting that it would certainly be impossible for her to get rid of this metal armor of which she did not even perceive the least bump, but which had seized so deviously her pelvis that she could almost feel her bruised clitoris, embedded in her prison, begging her to put an end to its torment.
“Sir, please release me!” she asked humbly. She was kneeling in front of him.
“I see that you begin to understand. You’re a smart girl, so you know what I want from you.”
Lowering her head, she hesitated a long moment, contemplating the reflections of this cursed gold with which he had adorned her. But while she felt that an abominable feeling of disarray was invading her, defeated she gave up.
“Master, you are right, my past behavior is certainly inadmissible and I realize now that I was very selfish. So I will never again consider my own pleasure at the expense of yours.”
“That is wise. You are on the right track.”
As her whole being burned with an unfulfilled desire, her mind bubbled. Never before she could have imagined that one day she would have to make such an act of contrition and it is at the height of humiliation that she resigned herself to ask him the inconceivable.
“Master, please forgive me. I have not been up to your expectations tonight, and I understand that it is right that you punish me for the wrongs that I have caused you.”
“That’s fine, go on, what do you want from me?”
Almost choking, red faced with shame, with a trembling voice, it is at the edge of tears that she feebly confessed him finally what he was awaiting her.
“You won. Please spank me.”
The old man was already savoring his victory, however, as amused to see her thus begging him, he insisted.
“You are almost there young girl. However, perhaps I am old. My senses sometimes fail me. Could you repeat a little more loudly what you expect from me?”
Dismayed, trembling with shame, on the verge of exhaustion, she burst into tears.
“I beg you, spank me if it is what you want, I will do anything you want but please, release me from this damned chastity belt!”
The man did not sulk in his pleasure, while Aubrey, at the height of emotion, was now crying freely, head between her clasped hands.
“Good. Now, I will be able to teach you new rules of conduct that will allow you to taste again the pleasures you are so desperately looking for.”
His face lit up almost immediately, giving up his place, he finally invited her to kneel down on the armchair. Facing the backrest of the seat, her balance was precarious, so she had no other choice than to arch her back as if to better offer her rump to his terrible wrath. A sudden whistle of a beam of sticks split the air, tearing the silence of the room, at once followed by a discharge of pain which ignited it at the moment when it fell heavily against her posterior dragging a cry of pain out of her.
“Now, listen well to what I have to say to you because you will have to be convincing to persuade me that you understood them well if you want me to shorten the term of your punishment.”
Trembling with apprehension, she mumbled, marking her approval. After a short pause, the man resumed.
“First. Obedience.”
As soon as he had finished his sentence, a new blow crashed on her aching buttocks. Surprised, Aubrey was speechless for a moment, while like a metronome, the man was still spelling out his sentence.
“First. Obedience,” he insisted more severely.
The blow already seemed to be more violent than the previous one, but while she was already trying to soothe the stabbing pain that radiated from her backside, she answered him then, “I will be obedient… I promise.”
“First. Obedience!” This last blow dragged a long cry of pain out of her but, before the man resumed himself for the next to go, she shouted.
“I will always do my best to satisfy you in all circumstances.”
“Good. I think you get it now. Let’s move on to the next one. One hit for each new rule I’ll teach you. The better you understand it, the shorter your punishment will last”.
She nodded, still silent.
“Second. Respect.”
“Sir, I will never again hold your gaze.”
“Third. Honesty.”
“I will never lie, I will always be loyal to you.”
“Fourth. Gratitude.”
“I thank you for your teaching, and I am proud to serve you now.”
As the rules and her spanking went on, her buttocks reddened and the first welts appeared. She desperately tried to soothe her bruised flesh with her hands.
“Fifth. Punishment.”
She gasped for a moment, but before she could respond, a new wave of pain crashed onto her rump.
“Fifth. Punishment?”
“As now, I will demand that all my misbehaviors to be reprimanded.”
“Sixth. Seduction.”
“I would always make myself beautiful and available as you asked me, smooth and never wearing underwear anymore, unless you tell me to do so.”
“Well, it seems to me that you have learned your lesson.”
“Is it over, Master? She asked hesitantly, did you forgive me?”
He hesitated for a long time, as if to better revel in his work on her bruised curves.
“This last, I can help you to formulate it if you want, because as long as you will be adorned of this gold, it will be only of your submission that you will draw your pleasure.”
“This last, I can help you to formulate it if you want, because it will be only from your submission to the one who had you adorned of this gold, that you will only draw your pleasure.”
A final blow had just fallen on her now reddened and painful buttocks, these last words froze her fright now that they pressed her to swear. However, although she knew that they were going to change the course of her life forever, she did not hesitate one moment.
“From now on, my only pleasure will be to satisfy that of my master.” she confessed weakly before collapsing, stunned.
Totally wild, prostrated, dejected, she slipped gently against the leather of the seat, then bringing back little by little her knees against her chest, she curled up, hands on her gold covered sex which she could not appease before sinking into a deep sleep.
*
* *
She sat up suddenly on her bed, breathless, panting before discovering, through the frosted windows of her room, that a magnificent sun was illuminating the snowy peaks in the distance.
Instinctively she brought a hand to her sex. With apprehension, her fingers made their way along the soft folds of her swollen lips, almost disappointed to discover that the ring which pierced her clitoris had disappeared. Relieved, she relaxed and while her gestures became more and more insistent, her other hand, going up slowly into her oversized loose Sleep shirt, tried in its turn to relief the tension of her incredibly hardened nipples. Wrapped in the soft heat of her comforter, she calmed down and her past fears had given place to a pleasant feeling of satisfaction. Yet, the man’s orders still insinuated themselves into her mind and tormented her like a curse. Now, short of breath, heart pounding, she felt her precious sexual energy slipping through her fingers and although she was on the verge of an orgasm she wanted more than anything, it seemed to have suddenly become inaccessible to her, as if it was now running away from her. A mumble of frustration puts an end to her delicious caresses which had, however always appeased her since her adolescence then, dejected, she settled down in the fetal position as for better tightening between her legs the folds of her blankets, and to give up thus her desire, cruelly unsatisfied.
In the silence of her room, far from having calmed down, Aubrey still buzzed, as bewitched by the frenzies of her past night. Worse, whereas a fast and invigorating shower should have relieved her, it had on the contrary, only awakened dark desires which she seemed not to be able to control anymore. Also, while she took a particular care to pour some body smoothing milk on her unmarked, but nevertheless inexplicably aching buttocks, she amused herself with the reflection of the fleshy folds of her feminine shapes in the mirror of the bathroom, now that she had just shaved her sex totally bare and smooth for the very first time.
The incredible memory of the strange man was still very vivid, but although this nightmare had fortunately dissipated, it still seemed to be so real, that the rules which he had so painfully inculcated to her seemed always to repeat endlessly.
So strange was this situation, it also excited her terribly and she crossed to her suitcase in search of an outfit, she froze in front of a pair of underwear. Her small chest allowed her go without a bra, but the memory of her panties burning in the chimney cause her to grin, betraying her approval. Resigned, nothing seemed to find grace in her eyes, her choice finally carried herself on a simple hooded woolen split dress which she had packed almost by chance, fearing that the hotel was badly heated. Its long cut subtly molded her delicate curves, but although there was no doubt that this was her only garment, she felt reassured that her charms could not be brazenly revealed, not even in transparency.
The thought of her barely dressed body was still haunting her and as she descended the wooden staircase towards the pantry. The rough contact of the wool against her bare skin, but especially the pleasant sensations that inflamed her newly bare smooth intimacy, kept reminding her how much her femininity was heightened now, while sensations of pleasure made her shiver.
Suddenly, a female voice called out to her.
“Miss Spencer?”
Pulling her out of her dreamy thoughts, she barely had time to recognize the receptionist when she was handing her a small package wrapped in Christmas-colored gift wrap.
“Someone dropped this off for you this morning.”
“An old bearded man with a dark look in his eyes?”
“No, not that I know of.”
“Don’t you know a stocky, lumberjack-like man with slightly unpolished manners?”
“Schmutzli? No! I assure you, this parcel certainly arrived by courier,” she answered smiling, as if amused by her question. “But I know who you mean, you will find him in town today, merry Samichlaus Day!” (Saint Nicholas).
Intrigued by this strange gift, the coolness of the leather of the armchair against her naked buttocks reminded her at once how vulnerable she was, without even taking care of it, she had quite naturally raised the sides of her dress before sitting down in the small lounge of the reception.
Her mind was still racing as she desperately tried to convince herself that it couldn’t have really happened. It must have been a nightmare. Nervously, she tore off the wrapping to answer the agonizing questions that were nagging her. But when she discovered her name finely engraved on the metal label that was set on the leather box, her heart stopped beating. Who here could give her such a personalized gift, when three days earlier she didn’t even suspect the existence of this village at the end of the world. Holding her breath, her fingers insecure, she pressed the button on the small case opening it, revealing the jewel it contained.
Stunned, she slumped into the armchair, tracing with her fingertips the golden torque necklace, discovering how this large rigid neck ring in metal, made as a single piece, was strange with its large snake headed lock that glistened on the green velvet of the box. The memories of the man brought her back unceasingly to the jewels with which he had adorned her near the fire as if all that was for her only, a dark desire still unfulfilled.
All of her being was betraying her now and her nipples hardened, as if they were again adorned with gold. Unable to control her thoughts, lost freely in a lustful whirlwind, while her little love bud was consumed with desire to be once again encircled by that heavy ring that had been affixed by a piercing. The impenetrable Gothic-like characters engraved along the thick golden buckle reminded her of the ones she had seen running around her waist, adding only more doubts to her great confusion. Who was this man? Was she a victim of a curse? Or worse, was she his slave? These unanswered questions still plagued her with dread as she felt the moisture beading on her sex between her thighs. Deeply disturbed to have let herself be submerged by her lowest instincts, she remained like that a long moment, paralyzed, unable of the smallest reaction.
Suddenly, a soft voice pulled her out of her lurid dreams.
“That’s a beautiful necklace you have there, Miss Aubrey? Is that your name?”
Somewhat surprised by the compliment tinged with a slight German accent, she was speechless in front of this elegant middle-aged blonde woman with a slender figure who was presenting herself.
“Would you like me to help you to put it on?”
In an instant Aubrey’s cheekbones, delicately strewn with a few freckles, flamed with a soft pinkish hue betraying her excitement. As she remembered the old man’s cursed gold, a lightning instantly tore her confused mind, while her gaze landed one last time on that clasp she now knew she could never open again. Her eyes sparkled, illuminating her face of an unspeakable clearness while instinctively she already tied her hair to better present her, her neck.
Then lowering her eyes, she humbly handed her the box.
“Yes, Madam…”
Copyright © 2021 by helen.ripley@biz-concept.net, all rights reserved.
Reproduction, redistribution, or reposting of this work in whole or in part on another site, in print, or via any other means whether or not for charge or profit is forbidden without the express written consent of the author.
Happy New Year 2022!
Helen.
This story lifted me… like as if I were carried upon a faint wisp of good smelling incense, and I was carried along, enchanted, delighted, warmed, scared and surprised, and then finally… when I could take no more… I was blown away! Wow!
Well done Helen RIPLEY! You most certainly ARE a writer. Thank you for joining the party! A fantastic, intoxicating story!
Hi ReaderMan,
Thank you so much!
I’m pleased you enjoyed it.
Helen.
Helen,
It is a huge understatement for me to say that I was delighted to see your story on the site this morning! The relationships that I have formed with other writers are the essence of the hobby for me. I have grown to feel close to Molly, ReaderMan, Cave and one or two others over the years. You are on this list as well, solidly so, especially now that we have collaborated on a published piece of fiction.
For those that might be curious as to what I contributed, I need to say that Aubrey’s Weird Christmas is 100% a Helen Ripley story. The idea is hers and hers alone, as are the characters and the plot — from start to finish. My involvement was limited to editing. It was my goal to help with the wording to make the story more approachable. It was good to start with, real good. Now (with a good measure of humility) I have to say that I think it is even better.
It is a marvelously creative tale that captivates the reader, warming us just as the fire that Aubrey stokes warms that large room. We see Aubrey as that man, whoever he is, sees her. We watch her twirl and dance. We are enthralled by the shadows she casts on the walls. Like Aubrey, we are often not sure exactly what is happening. Fantasy and reality swirl together like the smoke from the man’s pipe. We never quite find out if the he is ‘Schmutzli’ or not: however, he certainly seems to be able to bend Aubrey to his will. Is it magic or merely what is in the air, what Aubrey is inhaling? We’ll never know for sure — nor will Aubrey. And therein lies what I love about your story. It stays with me because I am still processing what I read. I want it to have been real. I wanted Aubrey to wake up with her intimate areas adorned as they were at one point during the night — maybe that is still to be (Frankly, I hope so).
And like Aubrey, I am an American. In other words, I have a lot to learn. I’m sure you’ll agree.
I agree wholeheartedly with ReaderMan’s entire comment (just above). One sentence in particular stands out. He wrote, “You most certainly ARE a writer.” I echo that statement.
I know you got a late start, and I slowed you down a bit, but the important part is that the story is up here for everyone to enjoy and you posted it in time to be in the contest! I look forward to reading what everyone thinks of it. Above all, I had fun. And that, I dare say, is what this hobby of ours is all about! We’ll have to do this again!
Last, but not least, Happy New Year!
Blair
Hi Blair,
Thank you so much for your help and your comments.
As you may know, I also practise(d) Karate.
To sum up, now that you and ReaderMan have girded me with a black belt, like my Sensei (Master/Teacher) used to say, the goal is not reached, it’s just the beginning.
Now I’ve got to climb up the mountain on my own.
Blair, you reached one of the goals of the Karate spirit too.
With your patience and friendship, you helped me to improve widely my own practice.
Seinsei-ni-rei (Salute to the Master/Teacher)
Helen.
Hi Helen,
Living in another country that is celebrating Saint Nicholas (but not Schmutzli), you’ve made a wonderful conversion to have these mythical figures that should instill goodness on the children now instill ‘goodness’ on an adult woman in a form which I can applaud.
For me it wasn’t quite sure if it was a dream, a fantasy or something magical. That ambiguity leaves a lot of the imagination and has puzzled me as the reality (in the story) could be explained in many different ways.
Truth to be told, I didn’t want the story to end. Thank you for sharing your creative imagination.
Barometer
Hi Barometer,
I’m pleased you enjoyed it.
I shouldn’t say that, but my goal was to write a story according to the spirit of Christmas, so you may have found a little more magic than usual.
This story has been written especially for the 25+ Story Contest but can also be considered as a “Spin Off” of my ongoing novel “Clémence Rebels”, the second episode of “Asyah’s Charms”.
If you know who “Le père Fouettard” is, then you may speak French Language, so you’ll be pleased to know their first chapters are available on my Web Site: biz-concept.net
If not, I apologize, they are not available in English.
Helen.
A great story; I love how you kept it unclear if it is a dream or if there is magic involved. As already mentioned in a comment before, it is great how you describe such a mythical figure in a new way.
Where I live (Bavaria, close to the Alps), the Christmas presents are not brought by Santa Claus, but by the Christkind (“Christ-child”). However, on the 6th of December, Saint Nicholas brings presents to well-behaved children. Saint Nicholas is accompanied by Knecht Ruprecht (as he is called here), whose job is to punish naughty children. In very bad cases, it was said he even gives them a birching. He is a dark and scary figure; the Brothers Grimm even assumed his origins go back to pre-Christian times.
With these associations in mind, I really liked how you described him and how he subdued and punished Aubrey. I guess Knecht Ruprecht doesn’t mind that his duties were extended to punishing naughty adult women…
Hi arthwys,
That was exactly the goal of my story. As a kind of “Spin off” of my ongoing novel “Clémence Rebels”, it had to be located in Switzerland. That’s why I chose to describe “Schmutzli” instead of “Le père Fouettard”, his French name.
Thank you for your comment.
Helen.
The pleasant aroma of the room, the heated moments, her submission. All very good.
I had to somewhat skip over the pain and physical harm, as that is really not for me, but the rest of it was so well written.
You leave us to wonder who sent the necklace and what it means about her dream. Who is that man and how does he know her name, if it really was just a dream?
Thank you.
Hi Cave,
Thank you for your comment.
Don’t be afraid, I’m against violence and I didn’t expect the spanking I described to be a harsh one.
But what else could I do with “Old Man Whipper”? He just re-railed her on a better track. :-))
Helen.
Hi Helen,
I think part of it is me reading more into it than it is, afraid of it going even further. Thankfully, the welts weren’t real, though she did feel the ache after she woke up.
Cave
This is really creative and well written. I like dark holiday stories, and you rarely see them focusing on the Naughty or Nice aspect. A Christmas Horror Story explores this a bit. There was also a storyline from Kindiachi Case Files called the Santa Slayings, that involved the “Red Bearded Santa Claus” I remember being good. I can see your story be an entertaining listen on an adult podcast.
Hi contrymouse11,
Thank you for your comment and for the book I found on the internet (I apologize, I didn’t know it). I’m pleased you like the concept of my story, because it was a real challenge for me to introduce the useful concept of “old man whipper” to non European readers.
Helen.