Santa, Sir Read online

  Santa, Sir

  Blushing Books 12 Days of Christmas 2015

  By

  Rayanna Jamison

  ©2015 by Blushing Books® and Rayanna Jamison

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Blushing Books®,

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  ABCD Graphics and Design

  977 Seminole Trail #233

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  Jamison, Rayanna

  Santa, Sir

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-68259-209-0

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

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  Table of Contents:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  About the Author

  Ebook Offer

  Blushing Books Newsletter

  Blushing Books

  Chapter One

  Becca Davis awoke in a cold sweat, ashamed at the dream she had been having, and mortified at the fact that she was obviously aroused from it. Who had dreams about their sister-in-law getting spanked in front of them? Ever since their dinner party a few days ago, when Cole had spanked Angel right in front of her and Mase, she had not been able to get the image out of her head.

  Rolling over onto Mase's side of the bed, which was of course empty, she was, for once, glad he wasn't here this morning. Mase was as vanilla as his sister was kinky, and if he had any idea of the thoughts running through her head, he would probably have her checked into a mental institution.

  Angel had been in odd form that night, testing her husband's limits at every turn. Mase had been horrified, both at her behavior, and at Cole's reaction to it. Cole had warned her again and again, but Angel, whom Becca thought had been angling for a spanking, had kept going.

  Finally, Cole had had enough. His eyebrow had cocked towards the ceiling in a way that could only be described as ominous, and even Becca had gotten butterflies in her tummy from it. Angel had seen it too, and quickly turned to run, finally regretting all the fussing and snarking she had been doing, but it was much too late. Cole had pulled his wife down across his lap there on the couch, right across from where Mase and Becca sat in a chair near the fireplace. He had flipped up her skirt with just a flick of his wrist, and brought his hand down hard over her bright red panties, which, incidentally, had the phrase 'Spank Me' plastered across them in big white letters.

  Mase had his jaw set in a hard line, and his attention turned towards the game on television, but Becca couldn't look away. She took in every detail of the scene as it played out before her, from the hard set of Cole's jaw and the glint in his eyes to the way Angel's bottom bounced and jiggled under each smack that he laid down. Angel's panties had been cheeky ones, that covered most, but not all of her bottom, and Becca still remembered her fascination, as the skin below turned pink under her husband's hands. She had memorized every detail, down to the satisfied smile on her sister-in-law's face. Becca hadn't counted how many swats Cole had applied to his wife's backside, and only knew from what Angel told her afterward that the spanking had been a mild one. Becca was sure that mild or not, she herself would have been mortified, and crying after the first swat, but what happened afterward had been more mystifying than the spanking itself. Cole had given Angel's ass a tight squeeze, lowered her skirt, and pulled her into a sitting position on his lap, where she had thrown her arms around his neck, whispered in his ear, and kissed him deeply. After that, the rest of the night had been normal, with Angel acting a thousand times sweeter than she had been previously.

  That was an exact account of what had happened, and an exact account of what took place in her dream, save for one small detail. In Becca's dream, Mase was spanking her at the same time that Cole spanked Angel.

  And that was ridiculous, for several reasons. Even though Cole and Mase had been best friends for nearly all their lives, they were polar opposites. Mase was about as dominant as a wet spaghetti noodle. The thought of Mase spanking her for anything was laughable, and even if it wasn't, there was the second problem. Becca was as good as Angel was bratty.

  Even if she wanted to, she couldn't fathom doing anything that would be cause for Mase to spank her. And she did want to. God help her, she wanted it more than anything.

  The idea was enough to have her hand traveling down her stomach, heading towards the front of the pink cotton booty shorts she slept in before she shook herself out of it. Dreaming about it was one thing. She couldn't control her subconscious, but what she
did while she was awake was another matter altogether. "Pull yourself together, Becca," she muttered in disgust at herself, sitting up in the bed, and groaning as she caught sight of the clock on Mase's end table.

  She had majorly slept in, and speak of the devil, she was supposed to be meeting Angel herself for lunch and shopping in less than an hour. Hopefully by then, she could shake the image of her sister-in-law's pink ass cheeks from the forefront of her mind.

  She somehow managed to beat Angel to the restaurant in Tahoe, even though she, herself, was running late. But then, Angel was always late. Becca's sister-in-law was, of all things, a famous supermodel. Even on her worst day, Angel looked stunning in that seemingly effortless way that she had. But she was so sweet, you couldn't even hate her for it. Mase swore she wasn't always sweet, and jokingly confided that that was Cole's doing. Her husband considered it his job to take her down a notch when Angel started to get too big for her britches.

  Today, Angel looked as flawlessly put together as she always did, and even in her favorite outfit, next to her, Becca instantly felt frumpy and outdated.

  "Come here, you! Give me a hug!" Angel cried, gathering Becca into her arms before the words were even out of her mouth. "I've missed you! I know it's only been a few weeks, but it's been a crazy few weeks, let me tell you!"

  "Yeah, Paris, and Madrid. Poor you," Becca said with an exaggerated eye-roll.

  "Paris and Madrid with Cole. I worked all day—and didn't even get to have any fun at night. He's a big ol' no fun meanie." Angel pouted.

  "Yeah, I feel so bad for you," Becca said with a laugh as they followed the hostess to their seat at the back of the restaurant. Angel was wearing an oversized sun hat and faux glasses, but it wouldn't keep her from getting spotted. The funny thing was, she wasn't even as famous now as she had been before Becca met her. She was just getting back into working after a big scandal that had lost her all of her money and her contracts.

  Angel just laughed at Becca's sarcasm, and waited for the hostess to leave before taking her seat at the small bistro style table. It didn't escape Becca's notice that her companion was sitting a little gingerly, and that the seats were made of a hard grated metal.

  Her eyebrows raised in question.

  "Oh, you know Cole, any excuse to spank my ass," Angel said this rather loudly, and Becca glanced around in horror. Thankfully, it was a Thursday in December, and the crowds were still thin. Next week the busy season would begin, but for now they were relatively safe.

  "Keep your voice down," she whispered across the table. "The last thing you need is for that headline to pop up on some supermarket tabloid in the morning." Then, curiosity got the better of her. "What did he spank you for this time?"

  "No reason. Just reminding me to keep my p's and q's now that we are back home—oh, and not to get too wild Christmas shopping today."

  Becca grinned. "Really? He spanks you just because? Doesn't that get old? I mean, I can see it sometimes, but all the time, and for no reason?"

  Angel smiled, and leaned across the table to whisper conspiratorially. "Oh, I love it. You know I wouldn't have it any other way."

  "Yeah, I guess. I mean, at least you know he's paying attention, and that he cares what you do. I would let Mase spank me every day if it meant he would pay more attention to me." Mortified at her admission, her hand flew to cover her mouth, and her mind raced for a suitable cover, but Angel was too quick.

  "Becca, do you want Mase to spank you, really? Or do you just want him to notice you more?"

  "I don't know! Both, maybe." She could feel the flames of embarrassment lapping her face, but she was already in this far, so she might as well go for it. "I want him to spank me! Just once, I just want to see what it's like." And have her own fodder for dreams and fantasies in the future, she added to herself.

  Angel's face transformed into a smirk that could only be described as sneaky. "Challenge accepted. Let's make it happen!"

  "How do we do that?" Becca was already beginning to regret confiding in her sister-in-law.

  Angel frowned. "First, we have to decide what kind of spanking you want, I think. Then we go from there."

  "There are different kinds?" Becca cried in alarm, before lowering her voice to a whisper. "What do you mean different kinds?"

  * * *

  "Smile, darling, smile for Santa! Tell Santa what you want for Christmas," Marjorie, a local college student, currently dressed as an elf, cooed to the sticky, redhead screaming on Mase's lap. He understood that this was important to parents, that this picture was a memory they thought they would treasure for years to come. But, some parents did not know when to give up. Mase had been holding the same screaming toddler for five minutes, and the kid was just getting angrier and louder with each passing second.

  His dad would have known what to do. Will Davis had played Santa for the local kids for two decades, and they had loved him. His dad had a way with children and babies—he very rarely got a bad picture. Mason had big shoes to fill in this regard, and he was failing miserably.

  Marjorie shot him a helpless frazzled look, and gestured to the line that was backlogging around the corner. Mase thought fast, pulling a rubber ducky out of a basket beside him, and handed it to the kid, who thankfully stopped screaming to look at it long enough for the photographer to snap a picture.

  Thank God, it was almost lunchtime. Becca would be here to act as his Mrs. Claus after lunch, and she was his saving grace when it came to the babies. Marjorie didn't have a maternal bone in her body, and Mase was almost sure that she just enjoyed getting tips and wearing a skimpy elf costume.

  "Smile!" The photographer snapped a picture of the precocious five year old who had demanded a candy cane right out of the gate, and then handed him a Christmas list a mile long. She hopped off his lap, snagged a second candy cane, and skipped off to her frazzled looking mother.

  Mase surveyed the line before him with a grimace. Almost all babies, and it was getting dangerously close to naptime.

  "Well, hey there, Santa, sir," a husky familiar voice whispered in his ear, and he almost wept with relief. Becca was here, and just in time for the baby onslaught.

  His wife stepped in front of him, moving towards the front of the formed line, and plucking an overdressed sleeping newborn from its mother's arms. His eyes bugged out of his head. What in the hell was he seeing?

  The matronly Mrs. Claus uniform provided by the city was nowhere to be found. Instead Becca had donned some outrageous get-up that was obviously supposed to be some sort of sexy Mrs. Claus outfit. If you would have asked him, sexy Mrs. Claus was a bit of an oxymoron, but somehow Becca was proving him wrong. Her long sleeved red dress fell to mid-thigh, and the long pinafore apron usually covered in bright embroidery adorned with pictures of cookies and snowflakes had been replaced with a short lacy one. The dress’s usual starched collar was gone, and the top was scooped just low enough to keep his wife's assets fully covered. She wore candy-cane striped stockings and red high heels, and Mason grew aroused just looking at her. Playing Santa for kids with a hard on was not an option.

  "Becca," he hissed, while still managing to smile for a picture, "What the hell are you wearing? Have you lost your mind?"

  Her face fell, and he winced. He had forgotten momentarily how sensitive his wife could be. He prayed she wouldn't start crying.

  She didn't. To Mason's utter amazement, she smiled. "I'm too young to dress like an old woman, Mase. I was just trying to keep it interesting."

  "Interesting?" He couldn't keep his eyes from bugging out of his head. "Becs, it's practically indecent. Go change," he added forcefully.

  "No." Her rebuttal was slow and deliberate. She emphasized it by rolling her eyes, of all things. Then, she turned away from him, and returned the sleeping baby to her mother, and grabbed the next one in line—this one a cheerful overall-clad baby boy gumming his fist with a long line of drool trailing from his chin.

  Fine. If that was the way she wanted it, he would j
ust have to make it through the next three hours without looking at her. Even as he thought it, his eyes raked over her curves, and he thought about what he wanted to do to her once they got home. Not look at her for the next three hours? Fat Chance. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her.

  Chapter Two

  "Where did you get that outfit, and why are you still wearing it?"

  Those were the first words out of Mason's mouth when he walked in the door after work that evening.

  They weren't exactly conducive to the sexy evening she had planned. Becca's stomach tied itself in knots as she stared at her husband's hard face. If Mase were any other man, he might be upset enough to spank her. But, he was Mason. Odds were, whether she answered him or not, he was going to eat dinner in the living room while watching the news, retire to his office to catch up on work he’d missed and ignore her until bedtime.

  What had Angel said? Be assertive. Tell him what you want, no matter what it is, from the little things to the big. It was good advice. Mason wasn't cruel, he was just clueless.

  "Eat dinner with me." She ignored his questions, posing a request instead.

  Her clueless husband looked taken aback by the request, as he glanced longingly towards his recliner.

  "I worked today too, and I came home and made a nice dinner for the two of us. Eat with me."

  "Okay."

  She was relieved when he sat at the table, not minding at all when he waited for her to serve him. It was what she had always done, from the beginning, with this image in her head of the perfect little housewife. She certainly didn't mind it, Mason worked hard, especially during the Christmas season, when he kept up with his construction business, and managed to play Santa every day for two weeks. She just wanted a little appreciation and a lot more attention. Which meant, as Angel had told her, that she would have to be more direct. A mind reader her husband was not.