Part One here.

An hour later she faced a wall of trees and almost turned back. But beyond she could already see the rising cliffs and the cleft between them just as Marta had said. Furthermore no matter how hard the going was, it always seemed to yield a little more to her and never had her horse been so sure-footed.

Again she considered turning back but the smell of pine was euphoric and despite the nearness of Yule the day was warm and bright. Just a little further, she thought and always the same thought.

In the end the morning raced by and just after noon she was in the small wooded valley between the Eerie and Hell Point, as Marta had foretold.

“Hello,” she called and then felt foolish.

“Hello,” a silky smooth baritone answered her.

Had she imagined it? Elizabeth listened for more. Without thinking she dismounted and clambered forward to where the trees gave way to rocks and she could see a little cave.

“Hello,” she called again.

“Yes, you said that and politely I replied,” the same baritone answered, this time it was clearer and the masculine voice sounded almost impatient. “What do you want?”

“Who are you?” she called into the cave.

“I will ask you thrice and no more,” the voice said, “For the second time, what do you want?”

“I am Elizabeth Kalstein, daughter of…” she said proudly, it was obvious this man did not know with whom he was dealing.

“For the last time, what do you want?” Whoever it was obviously really didn’t care.

Remembering her conversation with Marta, she hesitated. Then in a clear certain voice she called out, “Justice.”

For a second every sound in the forest fell silent and Elizabeth shuddered. Then from within the cave came a rumble and then a roar. At that moment she would have fled, but the horse pre-empted her and raising onto to two legs it neighed and then was gone.

“Oh be damned,” she groaned.

“Damned, not quite,” the baritone said; “Not half as bad as that, not really.”

“Who are you?” she called.

The creature that strode out of the cave was neither man nor beast. He stood some seven feet tall and was, at first glance, half man and half goat. Then Elizabeth saw the claws and the horned head and hooked-nosed face, which was more like a demon than man. Strangely it was not his appearance that unsettled her, but the fact that he carried a birch rod like her father had used on her poor defenceless bottom and she shuddered.

“Some call me the Clawed-One, others the Justicar of Yule,” he said in his rich baritone as if greeting a new world. “But I prefer Krampus.” He said his name as if savouring it. “Krampus,” he said again with relish.

“What…?” Elizabeth shook her head in denial and decided that she was about to die.

“I hate stories,” Krampus sighed. “I have been trapped in this cave for… a long time. There was only one word that could free me and that word had to be spoken by a virgin girl of royal blood in the time of Yule.”

“But that’s…”

“Ridiculous, unlikely, something out of a… a story,” he shrugged, “So you see why I hate stories?”

Elizabeth nodded dumbly.

“Now down to business,” Krampus said briskly and rubbed his claws as one might hands.

“Business?” Elizabeth took a step backwards. “What business?”

“Oh I think you know,” Krampus said pointedly and was suddenly very close.

“B-but…” she did know, she had a sudden and overwhelming urge to divest herself of her skirts to bare her bottom for a good whipping.

“Tell me, what makes you such a bad girl?” Krampus took her by the arm and with a rough casualness through her across his now crouch-formed lap. Somehow her bottom was already bare and she felt her face burn.

“I have been lazy and irresponsible. I have failed to find a family to serve my people and my family. I have wasted time in pranks and petty revenge…” Elizabeth could not believe what she was saying and yet it was true, all of it.

“Indeed,” Krampus said sternly and tapped her bare bottom with the rod.

“But Ingrid and Astrid have been much worse than…” she blurted.

“Telling tales? I told you I don’t like stories,” he chuckled.

“Yes Sir,” Elizabeth admitted and bit her lower lip.

“Don’t worry, I will get to them, I will get to them all,” Krampus told her.

The birch rod lashed her bare bottom and she screamed. It burned, worse than anything and she knew she deserved it.

“This could take a while,” Krampus said in mock regret and lashed her again. “This could take hours,” he added and lashed her across her bare bottom again and again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Elizabeth screamed.

“You can’t be or else I would stop. But don’t worry, we will get there and you will come to no real harm, not really,” Krampus told her now warming to his punitive task.

“Please, please, please, I can’t stand it,” she wailed, already as sore and sorry and sobbing as any whipping had ever made her.

“You will stand it, you will have to by the time I am done and even if you can’t well, you will have by the time… oh never mind… take that and that and that and that…” Krampus lashed the girl’s bare bottom until it was as red raw as anything could be and temporary scars and rills patterned her skin.

“Please, please, please, please, I am so sorry,” Elizabeth sobbed.

“Do you want to come into my lair for a while?” Krampus asked.

Elizabeth’s eyes went wide and her mouth formed a perfect O. “No,” she said meekly.

“Good girl, now take your medicine,” he chuckled and carried on birching her, “And stop asking for mercy.”

“Yes Sir,” she tearfully agreed, “Thank you Sir, ouch ow, yah… ooh thank you sir,” she added miserably.

“My oh my, this could really take a while,” Krampus chuckled.

*

Krampus set Elizabeth on her feet and watched her dance. Her bottom was so sore that even the caress of the air set it to throbbing. The idea of allowing her skirts to fall to cover her now raw bottom was unthinkable, she knew and shuddered at the very idea of linen scraping on skin. As for sitting on a horse or on anything at all this side of Yule… that was a horror story.

“Here take this, I can easily make another,” Krampus said and handed Elizabeth the birch rod.

She handled it with dread, determined that she would burn it as soon as he released her. If he released her, she amended.

“That is for releasing me at long last. Give it to your future husband; in fact you will be compelled to. You will yield to him as readily as you did to me,” Krampus said proudly, “It is enchanted you see.”

“Why would I…?” she gaped.

“It is for your own good, believe me, you will thank me,” Krampus said, adding, “See you at Yuletide as I will from now on,” and then he was gone.

Elizabeth made a grimace and tried to shake out the burn to at least manage to walk straight. Next she raised her arm and made to throw the rod as far from her as she might only to find that the idea of parting with it was worst experience of her life.

“Damn,” she sighed and supressed an urge to go at once to find a solid box to keep her punitive present safe. Then she decided that it served her right and made to laugh. “I won’t sit down for a month, but at least I learned my lesson,” she said aloud.

She also decided that she didn’t much care that the horse had gone home without her. It would take a day or two and she might get spanked once she made it, but she would get home.

The skirts were still no more appealing down so she opted to remove her gown and carry it so that her bottom was left bare to heal in the December sunshine. She even took comfort in bathing it in a cool stream, even though the mountain water was near freezing.

That worked some and by and by she could at least more or less walk with only a mild flare of pain in her hind end and she began to make progress.

*

The next day she was able to re-don the gown and knew that by nightfall she would be home. As the sun rose, she realised that she was not far from Marta’s and wondered if the woman had known what would happen.

Elizabeth had plenty of time to consider what she had let lose into the world, but try as she might she was not at all certain it was entirely evil. After all she had sought justice and after fashion she had found it; just not in the way she had expected.

“Hello, who is there?” a voice alerted her from somewhere nearby.

She knew at once that she recognised it.

“Where are you?” Elizabeth called.

“Now that is an embarrassing question,” Marta said.

Looking up the princess saw what the wise woman had meant. For there just above her head draped over the bow of a tree lay an entirely naked Marta. She was doubled over so that her now very bare bottom was skyward and her mortified face hung down to ruefully gaze on the royal girl. From the look of Marta’s exposed behind she had very soundly been thrashed so that her bare bottom was scarlet raw and marred by myriad traceries of welts and grazes.

“I rather think that it is the answer that is embarrassing not the question,” Elizabeth laughed.

“As you say,” Marta agreed miserably.

“Can I take it you have encountered Krampus?” the princess laughed.

“Hmmm, you might say that,” Marta said ruefully, “Let me down will you? That damn goat-demon said I was a special case and had a lot to atone for. He said he was too busy to attend to me know and promised he would be back.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Tell me did you know what would happen?”

“Not this,” Marta protested.

The princess arched one quizzical and accusatory eyebrow.

“Well, I knew something, just not my part in it, if you follow,” Marta sighed.

“But you guessed my role in this though didn’t you?” Elizabeth said sharply.

“You’re not going to get me down are you?” the not-so-wise woman groaned.

“I don’t think so,” her victim laughed and was still laughing as she went her way home.

To be continued…