Birched by the Krampus

by Siggy Shade

To all the monster lovers who like it big and bulbous and bursting with eggnog.

"Krampus," he says, sounding weary. "How did you escape your quarters?” "Blood ritual," I snap. "The elves guarding me made the mistake of being naughty. Now, step aside." Klaus reaches into his pocket. I step back, fully expecting him to extract a weapon, but he pulls out a large scroll. My tongue flickers toward it and savors the ancient magic. "Is that—" "The naughty list," Klaus says with a sigh.

"Bardolph!" I yell. The air fills with familiar grunts and snorts, and a dark figure emerges from the distant fir trees. My heart skips for the first time in nine decades at the prospect of seeing my steed. Bardolph is large, even for a moose, standing eight feet tall with antlers nearly as wide. His fur is the same dark umber as mine, except his is far more luxuriant. He charges at me, his eyes glowing red, and white foam spattering from his muzzle. Clouds of condensation stream from his nostrils, a fierce and glorious sight. I raise a palm, ordering him to stop, and Bardolph makes a clicking sound in his throat and skids to a stop. He hangs his head low and snuffles my hand, his hot, moist breath warming my palms. "You remember me," I say, my voice choked. Bardolph grunts and nuzzles my shoulder. "Are you ready for a night of mayhem?" He lowers his head for me to mount. I climb onto his back and pull on the reins. Bardolph turns around to position me in front of the doorway. Klaus tosses the rolled-up naughty list. It unfurls before me, displaying my first victim:

NATALIA JASPER An image forms in my mind of a brown-haired girl with freckles, cheating on an examination. Very naughty. "I'm going to enjoy this," I snarl. Klaus chortles from the doorway. "Oh, brother, I truly hope you do."

I'm on my knees, unbuckling Stan's belt, my mouth salivating for a taste. It's not like me to meet men online, let alone invite them to my apartment, but his dick pics looked divine.

Long and thick and veiny, with a bead of precum glistening in the light of the camera. Once I saw what he was packing, it didn't matter whether he was ugly or handsome, old or young… I just wanted him here and now and in my mouth. "That's it, sweetheart," Stan says with a groan. "Take it out. Choke on my huge cock."

Perfect for krampus

He probably used a beautifying spell or one of the many filters available for witches and wizards to enhance their true appearance. Shoving away that thought, I yank down his zipper and reach into his silk boxers. "That's it, baby," he rasps.

My fingers thread through a bird's nest of pubic hair, finding a shaft barely thicker than my thumb.

"Natalia?" he asks, having the nerve to sound confused. I ignore his attempts to coax me back on my knees, log into the dating app, and open the inbox. My screen fills with the last of his dick pics. The erection in the photo lies on a towel beside two cans of Magi-Cola stacked on top of each other. It’s long and thick and juicy—just the way I like them. He places a hand on my shoulder. "Natalia, what are you doing?" I step out of his touch, brandishing the screen. "You told me that was your cock." "It is," Stan says, his tone clipped and defensive. "And you promised to suck me dry."

My jaw drops. "Didn't you listen to a word I just said?" He yanks down his boxers, exposing a dick shorter, thinner, and measlier than a lipstick vibrator. "Either suck me off or pay me what I spent on this date." "Get out," I snap. Sparks fly from his blond hair, making each strand stand on end. Looks like he was telling the truth about being a necromancer for the electricity guild. I clutch my phone and activate its emergency protection ward. "Suck it." He reaches for my arm, only for his magic to backfire and hit him in the chest.

Stan must have prepared that shit in advance. I'd bet my entire month's salary that I'm not the first witch he's dickfished.

My hand claps over my mouth. "Oh, shit." A large hoof emerges from the fire, followed by another. They're cloven, looking like they belong to some kind of giant goat. It looks like Stan wasn't bluffing about the curse.

Flames singe my fur as I slide down the chimney. It's been such a long time since I practiced Christmas spells that I'm a little rusty at stealthy entrances. No matter. It will all come back to me once I have punished tonight's first victim. I emerge from the flames, finding myself in a chamber that takes up an entire attic. From the spellbooks strewn across the wooden floor and the empty cauldron in the corner, it looks like Natalia Jasper is a witch. Occult symbols glow crimson on the walls and ceiling: a pentagram, an inverted cross, and a six-sided star surrounded by flashing numerals. They fly at me before I can process what's happening, and form a barrier around my body, trapping me inside a circle.

My gaze travels down to a pair of knee-length boots and flickers up to a heart-shaped face with painted red lips, high cheekbones, and eyes as green as the aurora borealis. Stunning, but nothing good will ever come from dwelling on the allure of a creature so delicate. She must be the mother or older sister, trying to protect Natalia from my wrath. It will not work. "What is the meaning of this?" I snarl. "Why have you imprisoned me in this circle?" "I'm the one who asks the questions." She points a device at my chest that shoots lightning. Sparks fly across my fur but don't reach my skin. "What are you doing in my bedroom? The Magical Council already banished the Krampus." Fury pulses through my veins. “How dare the mortals take credit for expelling a god?” My rage picks up speed, fueling a wave of power that heats my chains. They rise off my chest, glowing a bright shade of crimson. As they reach the witch's barrier, the magic fades, and the symbols explode into red dust. Free!

My jaw drops, and I huff out a shocked breath as she sprints toward the door. No one on the naughty list should look so… mature. No one ever makes wishes to Klaus but children, and the magic that judges them never fails. I raise a hand, summoning her with the magic of Christmas. She rises off her feet and floats back toward me, confirming that she is indeed Natalia. "You're the first name on the naughty list." I grab her by the back of the neck and lift her to eye level. Natalia's features tighten. "You can't punish me. The Krampus only comes to children. I'm twenty-one." I stare into her pupils, the window to her soul, and see that she's telling the truth. "Twenty-one years, three months, and six days." "Told you." She grips my hand with her slender little fingers. "Now, let me go." "However, you attacked a god and the penalty for that infraction is death." Her eyes widen, and she raises a hand. "Wait! There must be something I can do to appease you.” She lowers her lashes and sweeps her gaze up and down my form, taking in the chains I wear across my chest. "After all, I didn’t know I was dealing with the Krampus. My magic acted in was self-defense."

Women never touch me unless it's to attack. They fight so hard to protect their children from being whipped, birched, or dragged to hell. A brave few have offered up their bodies

instead, but I would never take advantage. It's hard to muster up any arousal for someone begging for the life of their offspring.

"Silence." I shove her face-down on the tabletop and loop a length of chain around her wrists, securing her to the desk. After kicking her feet apart, I bind her ankles to the table legs. She struggles, her back arching, but the chain tightens, keeping her immobile. Perfect. I step back to admire my handiwork. Natalia's legs are spread, the lean muscles of her hamstrings tightening with the stretch. My gaze travels up her thighs and to the black dress that barely covers her curvaceous ass. A delectable sight.

Natalia looks excited. "You were frightened a moment ago," I say, my gaze narrowing at the way she tries to rock back and forth against the table. "Do you understand that I'm about to make you suffer?"

"Please what?" I ask. "Use your words like a good girl." Natalia's breath quickens. "Please, Sir. Please punish me. I've been so bad." Arousal surges straight to my cock, and it pushes painfully against its sheath. I groan, willing away the sensation. "Foolish little witch. You should be terrified, not excited," I growl. "If you wanted me scared, you shouldn't have bent me over that table," she snaps. "If you didn't want me so turned on, you shouldn't have started with the kinky bondage." "Insolence!" I raise the birch rods and bring them down across her ass. Natalia arches her back and moans. "Fuck!" "Mind your language." I bring the rods down once more, making her shudder and squirm. With each strike, her movements become more desperate until she ruts against the tabletop like a reindeer in heat.

My cock lengthens, thickens, and pushes against its hiding place until the ache makes me lightheaded. By now, Natalia should be screaming for mercy. Instead, she's screaming for more. Nobody could possibly enjoy this birching. The more Natalia thrashes, the more her dress rides up and exposes her ass. Pink marks appear on her round globes, which deepen into delicious red welts. Delicious red welts I want to lick. Saliva fills my mouth, and my tongue swells to the point that it hangs loose. I can't stop. Despite my better judgment, I keep bringing the rods down, again and again, watching the darkening marks bloom across her skin. I don't stop until her entire ass is a masterpiece of delicate little bruises. Still, she moans and thrusts back against the table, panting and trembling, her body arched and contorted against the chains. I've never seen anyone respond to a birching with such desire. "P-please," she whines. "What?" I hiss. "Please, Sir. Give me more. I need it. I need you." She elongates the last word with a siren's call that urges me to throw down the rods, unsheathe my cock, and take her hard and fast against the table. My jaw clenches. No matter how much I want it, I cannot give in. No woman, not even a powerful little witch, could withstand my cock. Natalia is far too fragile.

Old memories rise to the surface, from the time of demigods and giants, when I fucked sacrifices until they wer...

Throwing down the birch rods, I grab Natalia by the hair. "Foolish little mortal. How dare you mock a god?" Her breathy moan goes straight to my length. "I'm so fucking wet." I release her hair, step back, and glance at the scrap of fabric between her ass cheeks. It's soaked. Damnation. I should leave Natalia and move on to the next name on the naughty list. When I summon the parchment, her name doesn’t dissolve. It remains at the top of the list and glows red. Red can only mean one thing: Her punishment isn't yet complete.

This is a witch's wet dream. Birched until my ass burns, and aroused beyond reason. My pussy quivers from each delicious strike, and my clit throbs in sync with my rapid pulse.

One strike hits my ass with a sting that my body registers as electric rapture. Vibrations travel down to my core and make my clit tingle. Then the next intensifies it until it overloads all my senses.

It's perfect agony, cruel ecstasy. I toss my head back, doing everything I can not to cry out, writhe, moan, and beg for more. But before I know it, my lips are forming the traitorous words.

“M-more,” I rasp. His voice rumbles, but there's a part of me that doesn't want to hear myself plead. But I'm so wet and needy and unable to focus. When he yanks me up by the hair and pulls me off the desk, we finally lock eyes. His irises are a deep amber with fiery flecks that remind me of the furnace burning in my core. Whatever I utter next has him sneering, baring a mouthful of sharp teeth. The blood roaring between my ears muffles his reply, but I'm sure it's something cruel. He releases me, and I fall back onto the table with a whimper.

"You must be an exceptionally naughty witch," he snarls. My heart leaps. "Why?" "The naughty list says you need more correction." "Yes." I buck my hips. "More. Please."

Hoofbeats approach, each strike on the wooden floorboards hitting my eardrums like percussion. The sensation trickles down my nerves and concentrates on my clit. He stops behind me, where I'm still bent over with my legs spread. A cool draft wraps around my exposed legs, making my skin prickle with goosebumps. I lift myself onto my tiptoes, the movement spreading my pussy lips. "Look at you," he says, his baritone resonating through my needy core.

His hot breath tickles my neck, infusing my veins with a delicious thrill. Then he wraps a calloused hand around one wrist and then the other and pulls me upright. The chains around my wrists clink as he shoves me to the floor. I fall on my hands and knees with a cry. "No one on the naughty list may enjoy the punishment, but you have defied me at every turn." When I try to raise my head, he shoves me back down with a roar. "Cease your defiance and kneel before the Krampus, or I will cast you to hell." I curl my hands into fists. There's no point in mentioning that the Council of Magic already closed that loophole. Every wizard or witch is tattooed with sigils that prevent forcible transportation across realms. But who knows if that protection will work with Krampus? Best not to test a creature who claims to be an old god. "It's not my fault," I say from between clenched teeth. "You shouldn't make the punishments so kinky." He grabs my hair again, this time to force our gazes to meet. "Explain."

"Some adult witches enjoy a bit of BDSM," I blurt. "What?" he hisses. "Bondage, dominance, submission... er... sadomasochism?"

My gaze drops to the thicket of fur between his legs. Maybe the Krampus doesn't have a cock? "Are you serious?" he asks. "Y-yes." I stutter, my heart pounding to the throbbing of my clit. "Some of us like pain." "What happens after a BDSM punishment?" he rasps. It takes a few seconds to register what Krampus is asking. There's no way I can tell him it's a sex thing... Can I? "Tell me." His hand tightens in my hair, sending shockwaves of sensation down my spine. "I will know if you're lying." "Then we fuck."

"Or I suck his cock?" I blurt. His pupils widen. They're horizontal as if I didn't need any further reminder that he's a monster. A monster I've now scandalized. "You enjoy this activity?" he asks, his voice guarded. There's no point in making myself sound innocent. Krampus probably wasn't bluffing when he said he could tell if I was lying. "Oral sex is only worthwhile if the cock is long and thick." "And human-shaped?" he says with a sneer. I flick my head toward my bed, where I keep a selection of toys on the nightstand. "The more unusual the better."

"Not for me. I've always liked it rough." His sneer returns. "A puny little witch like you couldn't last a minute with a god, especially one of my immense girth." Girth? Heat floods my pussy, making my clit swell. I sweep my gaze up and down his seven-foot form, taking in the way his

fur clings to his thick, ropey muscles. If his cock is in any kind of proportion to his size, then I'm screwed. In more ways than one. Fuck. He snorts. “Pah! You'd be a whimpering mess." "I'm tougher than I look." My tongue darts out to lick my lips. "Try me."

"Very well," he rumbles. "I will commute the rest of your punishment to two hours with me. If you can survive, then I'll erase you from the naughty list." Movement flashes in the corner of my eye, and I glance down to find the longest, thickest, reddest cock, standing to attention. And it's shaped like an upside-down Christmas stocking.

My breath catches, and heat shoots straight to my core. The slickness between my legs intensifies, and even more arousal trickles down my inner thighs. Who would have thought that I would have a monster kink? His cock is thicker than my bicep, adorned with prominent veins along an impossibly long shaft. It's probably the length of my forearm, but it's hard to tell since it bends forward about two-thirds of the way up and ends with a bulbous head the size of my fist. Shit. He's too big. That monstrous cock will never fit. A pearlescent bead of precum at its slit glistens like a Christmas bauble, and I salivate for a taste. "May I touch it?" I whisper, my fingers trembling. "You have not earned the honor," he rumbles. The chains around my wrist tighten, jerking my arms behind my back and pulling so tightly that my chest pushes forward. The lace of my bra presses against my nipples, making me groan.

How the fuck am I going to touch myself if my hands are bound? His voice cuts through my thoughts. "Suck, little witch. Show me how you pleasure a god." His deep voice sends shivers down my spine, and I lick my lips, searching for what to say. "Yes, sir," I murmur, knowing full well I'm in way over my head. Then, I lean forward and run the flat of my tongue up his slit, finally getting a taste of his precum. It's sweet and creamy, with hints of nutmeg, vanilla... cinnamon, and bourbon. "Is that... eggnog?" I ask with a gasp. He groans, his hips jerking forward. "Cease your chatter, little witch, and choke on my cock." I swirl my tongue, licking and teasing him with slow, tantalizing strokes that make him shiver. He might be high and mighty and infused with ancient magic, but he's still a man—a man who can't deny my skill. Sucking on his slick head, I scrape my teeth against the smooth flesh. He whimpers, his breath turning ragged. "That's it, little witch. Show me what you can do." I open my mouth as far as I can, then take him inch by delicious inch to the back of my throat. His cock is so big, so hard, it almost hurts. Bobbing my head, I slide thick, luscious length up and down my tongue, making sure to explore every ridge and vein. This is incredible, and my arousal is almost too much to bear.

His hips rock back and forth, more gently than I expect from one so powerful, and soon I'm lost in the pleasure. "Fuck, little witch, where did you learn to suck cock? You're taking it so well." I know better not to tell him about my size kink. Not that I've had anyone as impressive as him. All men like to think they're the first or one of few, and I expect the Krampus is no exception. "You weren't joking when you said you liked your cocks long and thick," he says, "But were you telling the truth about liking it rough?" Nodding, I try to form words, but it's impossible when the Krampus fills me so completely. "Eyes on me," he growls. My gaze flicks up to meet amber eyes that burn hotter than my fire and a grin just as bright. Pride swells in my chest at the thought of him being impressed. I suck harder, eager to earn his favor. "Listen carefully, little witch. I'm going to fuck your throat, long and hard. Survive, and I will give you a reward." I give him a sharp nod and mumble, "Do your worst."

At least I'll die happy?

With a snap of his hips, Krampus pushes into me with a hard thrust, making me gag. I clench my fists and dig my nails into my palms to steady myself through his merciless pounding. My eyes water and tears stream down my cheeks, as my clit throbs like an exposed nerve. If it wasn't for the magic thrumming through my system, I would probably suffocate. I'm so tiny compared to him, each powerful thrust leaves me so dizzy and breathless that I'm seeing double. "Keep breathing," he says, Just as I force myself to comply, the Krampus rewards me by picking up speed and ramming his cock in and out of my mouth. "That's my girl," he rumbles. The praise goes straight to my clit. I pinch my thighs together, my hips jerking in counterpoint to his thrusts, trying to create a little friction. My pussy is so slick that the effort is futile. I have never in my twenty-one years of existence felt so aroused. In all the times I'd practiced with huge dildos, none of them had ever felt so intense. Bobbing my head back and forth within his punishing grip, I try to match his movements. Right now, I wish my hands were free so I could climax. Even better would be the chance of him splitting me open with that monster dick.