Amy had lost control of her bladder, and urine had shot out of her, pooling on the floor beneath her, some running down her legs. I had not even noticed that she had failed to count. By the time Amy remembered to count, it was too late. ‘Failure to keep count has now brought the count to Zero!’ His arm flexed, and the crop landed once again on her small tortured breast. Amy was now almost out of control with pain. She hissed out the count and the thank you. Five more times the bastard flogged Amy’s little tits. You could see the welts rising, turning first red then purple. After a total of seven lashes to her breasts, he returned to her backside. There followed four more on her buttocks, bringing the count to a total of four on each buttock. That left two to go. I was too afraid of where those last two would land. I had hoped that he might show some mercy, but that was not to be. The next lash whipped out and straight up between her legs, landing squarely on her wet and open pussy,. I did not try any of the tricks to stay awake that I had before. I was content to wait until Santa was ready.That night I felt a special excitement. “Was this the night?” I thought.A little after midnight, I heard the faint sound of jingle bells getting louder and louder. Then the sound of many hooves on the roof reached my ears, followed by the loud whomp of two runners landing over me.My heart raced, finally, I was going to meet the man I had dreamed about all these years. I panicked. Did I look good enough? Should I put on some cologne or make-up? Then I remembered that this was Santa. He did not care what you looked like, just the content of your character.I heard heavy footsteps overhead, walking toward the chimney.There was a loud gust of air coming out of the fireplace. Soot got in my eyes, causing me to blink and rub my eyes.When I opened my eyes, he was standing in front of me, Santa Claus.He seemed to tower over me, making me feel small, though I was not extraordinarily.
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