Cometh the Krampus (4)


Krampus 7Began here.

The castle had been quiet for hours. By the time the captain of the guard heard of any commotion in the royal apartments, Krampus had long since gone and the once sobbing princesses within the chamber had long since cried themselves to sleep; face down on their beds, of course.

Elizabeth half-expected Krampus to come calling on her once more, for she knew she would see him again, if not this Christmas, but the next. Still she could not sleep and opened a book or two before setting the aside. The night was dark and the candles were not up to the task.

It was then that she heard horses in the courtyard and the cries of sentries. Finally her father King Mark had returned and all was well.

Elizabeth, who had yet to get undressed for bed, rose from her chair by the window and with all the dignity due her position rose and went to greet him.

She got no further than the top of the staircase when her father strode into the main hall like a god embracing the world.

“Good evening majesty,” she said formerly and made a deep curtsy on the landing halfway down.

Mark did not pause in his stride but bounded up the stairs and embraced his eldest like a bear.

“My God, you are safe,” he gasped.

He held her tightly for a moment too long before royal decorum was regained.

“I am sorry father… I lost my horse in the forest or else…” she explained, somewhat caught up with emotion.

“I ought to whip you soundly until you can’t sit down for a week,” Mark blurted, but his eyes were both smiling and pooled with tears.

“Yes you should father, and not just for that. I have been a bad daughter and I think it is time that I grew up,” Elizabeth said breathlessly.

Mark nodded and folded his arms sternly. “Not to night I think, come and see me tomorrow… we will have words,” he warned.

Elizabeth curtsied and scurried off to bed with far less dignity than she had come.

As Mark watched her go her shook his head indulgently and smiled. The girl was a woman, or near. That husband he spoke of was overdue, if only for the good of the realm. Then he noticed the captain anxiously wringing his hands, brows arched in woe.

“Tell me,” the King sighed.

Before bed he heard tales of intruders and birched maidens and yuletide magic. A prankster no doubt and one that had done no real harm, he told them. But as he went to bed he wondered if his daughter’s demeanour and much changed attitude might not be linked to this strange visitor.


The next day Elizabeth found her father in his inner chamber. As she entered she felt like a small naughty child again; indeed her demeanour screamed it.

“Lizzie,” he sighed, “What am I to do with you?”

He had not called her Lizzie for years and she relaxed; her expression soft. Still she resisted running to him for a hug.

“Shall I send for rods and a whipping stool?” she said bravely.

He noticed she did not suggest they adjourn to the hall where such things were already on hand.

“It would serve you right if I did,” he chuckled.

“I suppose it would,” she said ruefully.

It had been days now since her thrashing from Krampus and her bottom, smooth and white beneath her skirts, was no longer so sanguine about another dose of rod.

“It seems the ladies of the court have all opted to stand at breakfast, even your sister and cousin, although I gather they escaped the debacle in the great hall,” Mark watched her reaction carefully.

“Yes father,” Elizabeth averted her gaze and licked her lips.

“You wouldn’t know anything about this?” he pressed her.

His daughter made a face and looked everywhere but at him. “I might,” she ventured softly.

“I think you had better tell me everything,” he sighed.

The story was long and detailed and as Elizabeth warmed to her tail, she forgot to whom she was talking and became ever eager. When she reached the part about her second encounter with Marta the King roared with laughter, but his principle mirth was reserved for the thrashing of the Lord Chamberlain’s wife and the ladies of the court, which he already gleaned but had not had such detail.

“For so much mischief it seems I really should send for a rod,” he said when she was done, but he was still smiling. Then he asked, “Tell me, do you still have Krampus’s gift?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Do you think it will work?” he asked.

“I am afraid that it will,” she said with a woeful wince.

“That should tame you, you little brat,” he chuckled and then on impulse he seized her and upended her across his lap. “A little too much mischief to go completely unpunished,” he said.

In a trice Elizabeth’s skirts were turned up and her bottom was bared to his stinging hand.

“Ooh, ow, ouch,” Elizabeth exclaimed, but sting as it did, she supposed she deserved it. Nevertheless, as her bottom got hot a red that was certainly no consolation.

“It has been a long time since you got a good sound spanking like this you little hoyden,” his voice was stern now, but edged in amusement.

Elizabeth chewed her lip in an attempt not to cry out too much as she tried to remember her last spanking like this. “Not since mother,” she lisped.

Mark paused and nodded. “She would stay my birching arm and then take you to her chambers and spank your bottom forge hot-until you almost wished I had birched you,” he said absently as her remembered his late wife’s faux mercy when it came to spanking the girls.

“Almost,” Elizabeth agreed and the first of the tears began.

Her father tipped her over a little more and pumped down with his arm in great satisfying spanks. There was no room to become maudlin, he decided, this was going to be a spanking to remember.

“Please Daddy,” she squealed, as much in acknowledgement of his efforts as a bid for mercy.

The 20 minute spanking lasted a week in Elizabeth’s mind and by the time it was over she was ready for a good cry.

“You may go and stand in the corner,” Mark sighed once he was done.

“Yes Daddy,” she whimpered and moved to obey. For once she did not need telling to keep her skirts up in back and her hot bare bottom mooned the room, as it would for another hour.

Before he left he looked upon her with affection. “Have I been too hard on you?” he asked.

“Not today Sir,” she answered.

“I mean…” he struggled to find the words.

“Not ever sir, I have failed you I think. I unleashed the Krampus for justice, even if I was looking for revenge, but that anger was never directed at you,” she said thoughtfully.

“Yes, but I think I have been too soft on your sister and that cousin of yours,” he replied sternly. “That will change.”

“Perhaps I can help you there?” Elizabeth ventured.

“Perhaps you can,” King Mark chuckled, “But for now, keep your nose in that corner, even if a maid she happen in, understand me?”

“Yes Sir,” she said ruefully.

Then he was gone.


The season came and went and despite distant rumours of ladies throughout the land being accosted and birched, no real harm was done by the Krampus and no great alarm went up. By the time the mid-winter feasting was over the Krampus was all but forgotten.

“No more reports of this Krampus,” King Mark asked the Chamberlain come spring time.

“Who Majesty?” the man seemed genuinely puzzled.

“Oh nothing,” Mark shrugged, scarcely able to remember what he had just asked.

Only Elizabeth truly remembered, or at least so it seemed. She rather suspected that one or two ladies at court were keeping their thoughts to themselves. So it was time past and at her father’s behest a dozen suitors came to court seeking her hand.

“I will marry any you say Sir,” she told her father.

“Hmm, I was rather hoping for enthusiasm than that,” he sighed. “Do none of the young men intrigue you at all?”

Elizabeth, who had pondered over some of the older greying lords, shook her head. “Not really,” she said crinkling up her nose. It was true. She had only considered the older men because of the Krampus’s curse. It seemed easier to accept a spanking from an older man, if indeed she hadn’t been duped by the old goat-demon. Was the rod he had given her really magical?

“Well think on,” Mark said gently, “There are many more. Now that you are showing the right attitude there is no need to rush.”

Elizabeth curtsied and they both went about their business.

But business for Elizabeth was a walk in the rose garden. The day was pleasant enough and she chanced upon a gardener burning waste on the lawn. Spring had sprung and the Krampus spell was broken. Within a year she would be lady of her own house. She came to a decision.

Summoning a maid she sent her to fetch the birch rod in her chamber and told her to bring it to her. Elizabeth gazed at the cleansing flames. She was done with the season and done with Krampus. Justice had been served and it was time for a new beginning.

The maid came swiftly and handed the rod to her mistress timorously, in case it was intended for her own bottom. But mercifully the girl was dismissed, leaving the princess by the fire with a rod.

“What are you going to do with that?” a smooth male voice asked from behind her.

Elizabeth whirled around in annoyance to dismiss the youth but something stopped her.

The man was not especially handsome, and to her mind he was a little old. Perhaps being slightly over 30. But he had kind-fierce eyes that held her gaze and a majestic mane of dark hair. His jaw too had the set of a warrior.

“You are…?” she said more sharply than she meant.

“Heinrich, Prince Heinrich of the Lowlands, if it please you highness,” he said in a firm voice. His eyes never left her and he did not bow more than was necessary among equals.

Elizabeth ran an eye of his firm thighs well-formed in his soldier’s breeks. He was broad too at shoulder and she felt her mouth go dry.

“The rod, why do you need that?” Heinrich asked her again.

Elizabeth swallowed. She had an overwhelming urge to hand the bundle of twigs to this man.

“I…” she licked her lips, amazed at the sensation of butterflies in her tummy. “I am going to give it to my future husband,” she told him.

“Indeed, will he need it?” the prince smiled.

“I fear he will, for I am rather headstrong,” she admitted, mortified that she would say such a thing to a stranger.

“Then you are wise indeed, I wish more ladies were so self-aware,” Heinrich said approvingly, “Who is to be your husband?”

“Eh… I am not sure, I haven’t met all the suitors yet,” she blushed.

“Oh indeed you have,” the prince contradicted her and this time he bowed formally. “I have been keeping track. I wanted to be the last. After all, it was only fair to give the competition a chance.”

Elizabeth laughed and Heinrich joined in.


The wedding was in the autumn and all in the kingdom who were of any account came to wish them well.

Unseen by most, the near yard long birch rod was secreted in a sturdy box and placed among the gift portion allotted to Prince Heinrich. He had paid no heed to the story of the Krampus and knew that if his wife needed a spanking then a spanking she would get and no magic would be needed.

Nevertheless on their wedding night Elizabeth once again retrieved the gift and got on her knees offered it to her new husband.

“It is rather severe for your delicate bottom,” he chuckled as he gave the rod a swish.

Elizabeth trembled, her tummy turned over and she craved the idea of crawling to him on hands and knees. Damn you Krampus, she thought, but she did not mean it just then, just then she wanted darker things.

“I don’t understand,” Heinrich said as hefted the rod, you have done nothing wrong.

Elizabeth panted softly. “I need you to put me in my place and show me you are my master.”

Heinrich frowned and then to test the jest he extended the rod to her face and watched her kiss it.

“Then bare yourself,” he said and watched in astonishment as she crawled to the bed and slipping from her gown lay face down upon it. Then slowly she raised her hips until her bare bottom was thrust upwards and inviting.

“I will be cruel,” he said breathlessly and tickled her flesh with the withes as he drew near.

“Yes,” she gasped.

to be continued



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