Bad Girls get Switches for Xmas

**~~Author's Note: I've never written erotica before, so I welcome any and all constructive criticism, as I am certain I have room for improvement. Thanks, and Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals!~~**

*****

Clara dropped her bag on the side table as she stepped inside her apartment. Three whole days off for the holidays, she was thrilled. Managing the shoe department of Nordstrom was no small feat, and a break was welcome. She planned to do nothing but lounge around, luxuriating in the time to herself. It was time for no pants, no bra, and no worries.

Ding dong, her doorbell rang out. She wasn't expecting anyone, but sometimes a neighbor's kids liked to go caroling in the halls, which was usually pretty cute, well worth the five minutes they'd take to warble out 'Jingle Bells'.

Clara checked the peephole, surprised to see the hot security guard at her door. That security guard. The one who dropped by Clara's department maybe a little more often than was strictly necessary. The one who was well-built, darkly handsome, and had just recently asked for her number. She'd happily given it to him, but his coming to her apartment was a surprise.

What on Earth was he doing here? Clara pondered.

Curious, but cautious, Clara unlocked and opened the door to her apartment. "Hello? Can I help you?" she asked.

"Hello," he said. "Santa sent me. Can I come in?"

"Wait, Santa? The mall Santa? How does he know where I live?" Clara asked, leaning against the doorway and grinning in amusement. She hadn't realized he was this interested, maybe this would be a merry holiday season after all.

"He knows where everyone lives. Remember, 'sees you when you're sleeping, knows when you're awake'?" he quoted, watching her intently, but waiting for her to agree before advancing into her personal space.

"Santa sounds like a real creep. But really, did the girls from work put you up to this? I bet it was Marie," Clara wondered.

The gals she managed at work had dragged her to get pictures taken with the mall Santa on a break just yesterday. The one the mall had hired that year was just perfect; friendly, jolly, and thank heavens not handsy.

He'd asked Clara what she wanted for Christmas. Since none of her answers would've been socially acceptable, she said, "Surprise me!" Santa had laughed, and said he'd make sure she got everything she deserved this Christmas.

"Marie did drop a hint or two, something about how you thought I was hot? 'Surface of the sun' hot, was it? But she didn't tell me where you live. Like I said, Santa sent me. I'm here to give you what you deserve for Christmas," he shifted his weight, moving the rucksack from one shoulder to the other.

Clara didn't miss the play of muscles in his arms and across his chest under his shirt, as he moved. She could smell his cologne, he had just enough on for her to sense it. It was subtle, spicy, sexy.

"The hell with it, want to come in, maybe have some eggnog?" Clara said, throwing caution to the wind. She'd talked to him enough at work for the past six months, flirting with him every time they saw each other, for his surprise arrival at her door to be more interesting than scary. She was certain either Marie or maybe Jane had slipped him her address.

"Sure," he said, grinning. He walked in, not setting his rucksack down at the door. He gestured for her to lead the way, and she walked him to the living room. She didn't mind taking the lead, why not let him get a good eyeful before the fun began?

"Do you like brandy with your eggnog, or rum?" Clara asked as she turned to face him.

"As I said, I'm here to give you what you deserve for Christmas," he replied, ignoring her question. He seemed to be growing taller as he walked toward her, taking up more space in the small apartment. His footsteps were getting louder too. She hadn't yet noticed the claws sprouting from his fingers.

"And what, exactly, do you think I deserve for Christmas?" Clara smirked, hands on her hips, eyeing his face. She knew that next would be a torrid kiss, perhaps some oral, maybe even a fuck on the floor. A little Christmas fun, why not? It had been too long, and he looked like a good time...

"On your knees," he growled. Clara finally noticed, his hairline was changing, it looked like his long brown hair had...horns in it?

"Hey, wait..." Clara stammered, eyes widening.

"On. Your. KNEES," he repeated, snarling as he swung his huge arm up. He threaded his clawed fingers into the hair on the back of her head, holding it firmly in his fist.

He forced her head toward the ground, causing her legs to buckle. She let out a yelp as she was shoved onto her hands and knees by her hair. He pushed her further, so her face was held to the floor, her cheek on the cold hardwood.

Finding herself face down, ass up, her breath came in gasps. Her heart raced as she tried to find her bearings, but he was quick. She could feel a breeze as her skirt was lifted, exposing her thong. Then, a tickling, brushing feeling on her pert ass. She was able to crane her neck just enough to see what he was doing.

He was brushing a medium-size switch of twigs across her ass, in gentle, lazy circles. His rucksack was open at his side, he must've pulled it from there.

"Oh God," Clara moaned, "you know what you're doing, don't you..."

"Yes, yes I do. Last chance. Do you want what you deserve for Christmas?" he asked, pausing.

"Christ, yes, please," she gasped out, "whatever I deserve."

He grinned, baring his sharp teeth, and began.

Holding her firmly down by the hair with one hand, he swung his other arm toward her exposed cheeks, starting with little stinging slaps across both rounded halves of her ass.

She gasped, letting out a little "ah" every few blows. The stinging of the switch was sharp, with the promise of much more to come. A perfect beginning to a good spanking. She wiggled a bit, more with pleasure than anything else, and felt the familiar warmth and wetness begin to well under her lacy thong.

Her ass was growing pink with the slaps, and her face pink with arousal, when suddenly he stopped. She opened her eyes, and was able to get out a, "H-h-hey, what..." before he swung the switch back, slapping it across the backs of both of her thighs, up and down. Thwap, thwap, thwap, thwap, firmer this time.

Each blow brought out a yelp now, particularly when the switch played over the line between her bare thigh and her thigh high stockings. Her legs were reddened by now, and she was starting to truly soak her undies. They'd be useless soon, she hoped He'd take them off.

He moved further up, back toward her ass, slapping first one cheek, then the other, thwap, thwap, thwap. The pain was intensifying, but was oh so satisfying. The endorphin rush was starting now, they'd been at it long enough for that slight high to start washing over her.

He paused, laying his switch on the floor, then drew down her thong with the claw on his index finger. The claw grazed her thigh all the way down, making her shiver and gasp. He snapped the elastic on the side, freeing one leg from the thin strand of lace. He left the remains of her panties on her left leg.

Reaching back up to the small of her back, he hooked the same claw into the waistband of her skirt. He drew it down the length of the fabric, waistband to hem, tearing through it with ease. Her skirt fluttered to the floor in front of her.

He pulled her face up from the floor by her hair, propping her up in her weak euphoria. "Take off your blouse and your bra," he growled, his glare brooking no argument.

She fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, taking longer than usual with her clumsy, blissed-out fingers. Her bra was an easier removal, she was able to sweep the clasp open with a twist of her wrist, then pull it off and toss it aside.

Bare skinned except for her thigh high stockings, her breasts jiggling slightly as she wavered on her knees, she waited. Her nipples hardened in the slightly chilly air of her apartment. He swung the switch in an arc and slapped it lightly across both breasts, the spread of twigs reaching both nipples at once. She cried out, her arms instinctively raising to protect her tender flesh.

"No!" He roared, bending so his face was next to hers. She could feel his hot breath on her neck, practically felt his pulse on her skin.

"No, no, no, your hands stay at your sides," He growled quietly, sending shivers over her skin, straight to her stinging nipples. "You must control yourself, or all of this stops," He continued, his teeth millimeters from her earlobe. He leaned in far enough to nibble, making her moan.

"Yes S-sir, I'll be good," she mumbled, clenching her fists and focusing on keeping her hands at her sides. He bit his way down her neck to her shoulder, his hold on her hair loosening a little. She shivered as goosebumps started all over her bare skin, but was otherwise as still as she could be. She was desperate to find out what came next, sighing as he bit down on a tender spot on her shoulder.

"Good, good," He groaned against her skin. He swung the switch again, slapping it across her bare breasts. She gasped out, "Ah!", but her arms stayed at her sides this time.

"So good," He growled in her ear. She could feel his grin growing, pleased at her obedience. His hand was now cupping the back of her head, letting her lean back against his strong arm.

He slapped the switch against her breasts a third time, angled his wrist, and slapped it quickly and softly across her trimmed pussy, once, twice, thrice. She moaned loudly, closing her eyes as she leaned on his arm for support, focusing as much control as she could muster on keeping her arms down at her sides.

The swift, stinging blows were so sweet. She'd lost count of the strikes at this point, and her hands gripped the sides of her thighs, digging her nails into the soft skin.

After one last spank at her now-soaked pussy, then one brief, almost soft, slap across her breasts, he stopped. Clara tried to catch her breath, wavering and weak. She could feel a little trickle of wetness down one thigh. She was so turned on she thought she might actually combust.

"And now, my dear," he growled in her ear, "since you've accepted what you deserve, you get to ask for what you want for Christmas." His deep voice was sending shivers across Clara's whole body, hardening her nipples even more.

Clara opened her eyes to look into his. They had a devilish quality to them, and he definitely had horns now. Who the hell was this, Clara wondered. Then again, who the hell cares, she decided.

"I want you to take me," Clara said, softly.

He didn't respond in words, just chuckled, his eyes crinkling kindly as he smiled. His rumbling laugh was like electricity, sending a jolt through her neck straight to her nipples and down through her belly to her clit. She smiled slightly, eyes half- closed.

He maneuvered her onto the floor, gently this time, and on the area rug instead of the bare floor. He trailed his clawed fingers up from her navel, between her breasts, to gently hold her throat. No squeezing, just restraining her as he knelt between her legs.

His hand still on her throat, he bent his head toward her pussy, still smiling. He bit along her thighs, not breaking skin, but with enough pressure for Clara to be certain there would be bruises in the morning. She let out a tiny moan at each bite, bucking her hips up toward his face.

"Please, oh please.." she gasped out.

"So polite, my goodness," he growled, his lips against her pussy lips. The vibrations from his voice reached her clit, making Clara arch her back in an attempt to get her clit closer to his mouth.

His long tongue snaked out from between his lips, parting her lips and arching up and around her clit, before circling back and swirling around and around. He set up a steady licking rhythm, lashing her cunt well. Every few swirls he'd suck her clit into his mouth, making it swell even more. He was letting out a low humming growl too, sending delicious waves of vibrating pleasure through Clara's whole body.

Clara had thrown her arms up over her head, pushing her palms into the carpet to gain some purchase against his face. Her eyes half shut, she moaned almost continuously, only pausing to take a gasping breath or yelp at a particularly sensitive stroke of his tongue against her cunt. She bucked her hips up and down, trying to grind into his face. His strong, clawed hands held her firmly in place though, preventing her from accidentally wiggling herself away from him.

She was close, she was so close, but she wanted to cum on his cock. She trailed her hand down to his hair, stroking both hair and horns gently.

"Please, oh please..." she began.

"Yes?" he asked, pausing in his merry work.

"Can I ride you? I want to come on your cock, please," she gasped, arching her neck up so she could look him in the face. His hair was wild from his work between her thighs, and his mouth slick with her wetness. His forked tongue slid from between his lips to lick some off as he watched her, weighing the request.

Without a word, he reared back on his heels, and pulled his shirt over his head. A feast for the eyes, he was muscled, with tattoos of chains trailing over his torso. He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly, and was out of his pants quick as a wink. His hard cock sprang out, bobbing a little in the lamplight. Clara gasped at the size of his cock. A full 8" without a doubt, and thick. Perfect.

He hoisted Clara up and over, moving her as easy as a toy. In one smooth motion, she was off her back and straddling his torso, and he was settled on the carpet, hands on her hips. She braced herself against his chest and reached back with one hand for his cock. Finding it, she guided him into her soaked and throbbing pussy, looking him right in the eyes as she did. She gasped as she slid his cock into her, feeling the flared head stretch her wide.

Clara couldn't help but grin as she watched him groan with pleasure, his eyes rolling a bit in his head. Oh what fun it was going to be to ride him. She slid herself a little further onto his cock, rolling her hips a bit to encourage the head further into her cunt, hoping he'd reach that spot, oh that sweet spot, soon.

She rocked her hips in a little circle, working to take in more of him with each swivel. He was so big, it was a bit of a trick to fit him all, but Clara was nothing if not persistent. She moaned and threw back her head, jutting her breasts out as she arched her back, feeling his swollen cockhead finally reach her g-spot.

Clara started grinding, setting the pace for now, her swollen clit rubbing against the skin and hair just above his cock, his fat tip stroking just right inside of her. She could hear him growling, and feel his hands on her hips, but she was lost in her movement, edging closer and closer to orgasm.

She was nearly there, letting out little gasps from the effort of rocking on his huge prick, when she felt his grip tighten on her hips. She opened her eyes to look at him, and he grinned wolfishly back at her.

"We cum together, little girl," he said, and started thrusting up into her. She yelped and fell forward onto her elbows over his chest, her nipples grazing him as he held her hips in place, digging his claws in as he picked up the pace, fucking her hard now.

"Look me in the eyes as you cum," he snarled, groaning as he thrust fast and hard into her soft, warm, wet cunt. She was almost incoherent at this point, moaning and gasping her way to what was building into an explosive orgasm, but she obeyed, watching his brown eyes intently with her green ones.

Her breasts bounced against his chest, and his swollen cock was ramming against her g-spot with an overwhelming speed, pushing her over the edge. She screamed as she came, her nails digging into his hairy, tattooed chest. She held his gaze, though, as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her.

His thrusting was becoming jerky, out of rhythm. He was close, gritting his teeth and growling louder now, huffing with the delicious effort of claiming her cunt. With a final thrust up, he spurted hot cum into her, almost howling. He hitched his hips down and back up a few times, using her to milk the last bit of cum from his cock.

Clara stayed on her elbows and knees on him, but dropped her head as she gasped for breath. She was working to recover enough composure to at least get back down on the floor.

He took pity on her, and helped her off his heaving chest and still-hard cock, settling her in the crook of his arm so she could lay her head on his chest and curl up next to her.

She splayed her fingers over his chest, playing with his curly chest hair in her post-orgasm bliss. She noticed his claws were gone, and shifted her head to look at his hair. No horns. Looking back down, no chain tattoos either. Just a fine, fine security guard in a fucked-out daze on her living room floor.

Maybe I'm going crazy, Clara thought. But who cares, if crazy feels this good?

They lay on the floor for a bit, nestled against each other in comfortable silence. Then, he started laughing quietly to himself.

"What's the joke?" Clara asked.

"When Santa offered me this job, as a part time gig, I wasn't sure I'd be into it. Seemed like a lot of work. If this is what it's like, being his little helper and all, I'm going to have a very merry Christmas indeed," he chuckled.

"Do you have to rush off to the next bad girl?" Clara asked.

"Oh no, honey. I set aside a whole evening just for you. I knew you'd been terribly bad this year," he replied, grinning and brushing his hand across her hair, down her shoulder, moving dangerously close to her nipple.

Clara smiled, trailing her hand a little lower on his torso now. No bra, no pants, no worries, exactly as she'd hoped.