A Very Tully Christmas 5

By David

The author prefers not to display any email address. Please direct any feedback to [email protected] and it will be forwarded

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A Very Tully Christmas

By David

The characters in this story are based on my series, Marlene and the Boy Next Door, which you can find at /~puericil/david.html

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Part Five

Irma Tully hummed a lively Christmas tune as she led a trembling Samuel Oliver down the stairs toward the parlor. So far the morning was a resounding success, and the sun had yet to come up. That meant she still had the whole day to play! It was always special when her favorite pet came to visit. She always had a wonderful time sharing her silly games and secrets with him. But today was extra special, extra nice.

After all, it was Christmas Day!

“Nana, I’m cold,” the naked boy shyly whispered. “Can’t I put on some sort of clothes? I mean, it is winter time … I might get sick.”

“Oh, it’s not that cold,” the cheerful babysitter said. “Besides, you can warm up when you get to the parlor. I’ve got the furnace turned up and a fire in the fireplace. It’s all so nice and cozy. You’ll be just fine.”

“But … I might get sick,” he said with a pout.

Mrs. Tully raised an eyebrow. “Well, if You get sick we’ll just go right back to the bathroom and let Nana give you another enema. How about that? Enemas are the perfect cure for whatever ails you, remember?”

The panicked child shook his head. “That’s not … what I … not what I meant ….”

“It’s not?” The mischievous babysitter giggled. “I’ve got an idea. Let’s don’t wait until you’re ill. We can go do it right now. Let’s get another enema! This time we’ll just use a little more hot water … that ought to keep you all nice and warm inside, don’t you think? That’s what you really want, isn’t it? Baby doll wants Nana to give him a nice warm enema? Hmm? Hmmm?”

Samuel’s eyes went wide with alarm and he vigorously shook his head from left to right. Irma Tully smiled. She thought for sure he would bolt away. That might have been fun, since there was nowhere for him to run. To her disappointment, however, he resigned himself to his fate.

“No, ma’am. We don’t have to, um … to get another ….” He lowered his head and sniffed. The embarrassed boy couldn’t bring himself to say the "enema" word. “I’m … I’m okay. N-n-never m-m-mind ….”

“Are you sure? We’ve got all the time in the world. Nana just loves giving little boys their enemas. And my little baby doll just loves getting them, doesn’t he? Hmm? Hmmm?”

“I’m okay.” Irma smiled to see Samuel squirm under her questions. His face was as red as the dress she wore. “Really, I’m fine. I promise!”

The cheerful woman smiled as her little pet looked up at her with a mixture of hope and fear in his eyes. The poor thing was clearly confused and frustrated. After decades of raising and manipulating children, she knew very well what was going through his young mind.

At this very moment, she thought, the poor dear is telling himself “It’s not that bad … it’ll be all right. It’s not that bad ….”

The old woman felt as giddy as a school girl. If only he knew what I have in store for him, she thought cheerily. He won’t think it’s all right then! Oh, my goodness, he is for such a surprise!

“Nana?”

“Yes, dear?” Irma Tully looked down at the naked lad and gave him her best grandmotherly smile. “What is it, baby doll?”

“Are … are we really going to have Christmas? Really? You know, with presents and stuff? I mean, this isn’t some kind of trick, is it? You’re not going to take me downstairs and not have Christmas, are you?”

The gentle bully looked down at Samuel’s angelic face. Her heart fluttered to see the wistful look in his eyes and the melancholy smile on his lips. She reached over and caressed his cheek with her hand, and then let her fingers trail down the side of his neck and down his naked back. She savored the sensation of his warm, soft skin under her fingertips, enjoying it almost as much as quiet desperation in his voice.

“No, sweetheart, we really are going to have Christmas. There really will be presents and surprise and treats … just you wait and see. Nana loves Christmas almost as much as she loves her little baby doll. It’s going to be a wonderful day. I promise.”

A shadow of skepticism clouded the hopeful expression on Samuel's perfect face. He appeared to think for a moment, then nodded his head. “Okay. I just had to ask. I was kinda hoping this would be a nice Christmas. I just didn’t want to spend it naked.”

The bosomy matron felt a wave of warmth sweep over her portly body. She had to restrain herself from sweeping the naked boy up in her arms and kissing him all over.

“Baby doll, you’re going to have a wonderful Christmas. I promise,” she cooed warmly. She watched carefully to see the confused child’s face smile and frown at the same time. A happy glow lit up her grandmotherly face. “Poor thing, you are so mixed up you don’t know what to do, do you?”

Samuel nodded his head, afraid to say anything.

“I love you sooooo much, sweetheart. You are so sweet, I could just eat you up!” She took his hand and kissed it before resuming their trek down the hall toward the warm glow of lights and the sound of holiday music.”

“Oh yes, Nana could just eeeeeat you up ….”

***

Breaking little boys of bad behavior was Irma Tully’s greatest passion. Her mother was her primary inspiration, teaching young Irma how to control her little brothers and cousins and prevent them from getting too rowdy. It was a lot of responsibility, taking care of the littler children, but she gladly took it on, correcting them at every opportunity and pulling them over her knee and smacking their bare bottoms as often as possible. This was her art, her vocation as well as her avocation.

Indeed, it would become her mission in life.

Keeping young offenders naked was an important facet of her mother’s disciplinarian regimen. While it never happened to Irma (she was her mama’s favorite, of course!) it was common for at least one – and sometimes several – of her brothers and cousins spend an entire day in their birthday suits, either standing in the corner with a sore bottom or doing chores around the house or in the back yard. Some of her favorite memories were of tearful youngsters naked in the kitchen, standing on tiptoe with their noses pressed against the wall, their bare bottoms sporting red stripes from a session with her mother’s strap.

Being the oldest among the brood and the only girl, Irma was often left in charge. In addition to doling out spankings, she was given complete authority to take away the clothes of her younger siblings and render them down to their birthday suits as she saw fit. Summertime was her favorite; during the heat of the day she often stripped the little ones completely and sent them out to the back yard and let them run and play until they were worn out. Fights and misbehavior were rare, and for good reason; Irma proved to be much more strict than her mother, and naughty children found themselves easy prey to her thin, stinging switch as the budding bully flipped it against their little bare bottoms and legs.

“We’re sorry! We’re sorry!” the contrite boys would squeal. “Please, Irma, don’t be mean! It hurts! It hurts! We’re sorry! We’re sorry!”

As she grew older Irma would be asked to babysit for the occasional neighbor or someone from church. Practicing her skills on those children was especially fun; while her brothers and cousins were somewhat used to going naked and getting whipped, very few of these youngsters had experienced such a thing.

Boys were Irma's specialty, of course. There was nothing quite like the first time she took a naïve young lad and punished him for some real or imagined offense. The shocked expression and tearful pleas as he was disrobed were an elixir for the eager girl, feeding her bullying nature and her growing confidence. Sometimes he might put up a struggle and try to get away; very often he would just stand there, frozen with fright, and let her have her way.

Not surprisingly, spanking a new child was an even more amazing experience for the novice dominatrix. Like noted before, her brothers and cousins already knew what to expect and they usually complied at the first sign of a whipping, which always ruined her fun. But getting her hands on someone fresh, an unsuspecting victim without a clue as to what was in store for them, that was a real treat!

It important to know Irma never raised her voice Or spanked her victims out of anger. On the contrary, the young bully loved to take her time so as to better appreciate the effect her actions had on her victims. She was always calm, methodical and thoughtful as she prepared her nervous victim for his punishment, right up to the moment she landed that first marvelous SLAP!!! on his tender bare bottom.

Irma’s reputation for taming rowdy spirits and naughty behavior made her popular among her mother’s friends. Her methods were rarely questioned, and never by the mothers. Rough and tough bullies turned into bashful angels under her care. And those who were already shy and well-behaved benefited from her presence painfully so, transforming into the most obedient, timid crybabies who clung to their mothers’ skirts and promised to be “extra good” with faced with an evening with “Miss Irma.”

“I just love taking care of all my little baby dolls,” she would sing in response to praise from her clients. “They just need a little special attention and I adore them each and every one as if they were my very own.”

The babysitting bully’s charm won over just about everyone she encountered. In fact, she quickly developed a talent for deception and deceit. On those rare occasions when a particular child complained about getting too many spankings or having to go without clothes for too long, she was quick to flatter even the most suspicious parent, giving them warm reassurances that all was well. Her skills at trickery were so well honed that the accusations would turnabout and the unfortunate complainant would find himself the focus of his parent’s ire – and his babysitter’s inevitable revenge!

And in what form would such revenge come? Indeed, what could be worse than a bare bottomed spanking and a day running about in one’s birthday suit?

The answer to that question arrived in the shape of a little white nozzle and a red rubber bag.

You see, during her adolescence Irma enhanced her skills as a disciplinarian with the help of a spinster aunt, a trained retired nurse and substitute teacher. As a young girl she was first a subject of her aunt’s predilections, then a student under an extensive tutelage. Among her lessons were the secrets of the hot water bag and all of the various syringes, bulbs, tubes and lubricants one might imagine. There was so much to learn and the young Irma was an eager apprentice under her aunt’s gentle yet firm hand. A playful, and yet painful spanking often played prelude to their sessions with the nozzle, which immediately set fire to the eager girl’s passions.

As a teenager Irma grew to love enemas so much she used them on herself with devout frequency; she eventually refined her craft to an exquisite art form, experimenting with a wide variety of solutions, accessories and positions. Combined with her experience in meting out spankings she became the mistress of both the paddle and the syringe; and by the time she was in high school she could tame the naughtiest boy with her mastery of the disciplinary arts.

The young babysitter’s obsession with enemas grew into a fascination with bare bottoms in general. Each visit with her young client included at the very least once free temperature taking if not an enema. All the budding bully had to do was produce a rectal thermometer and a jar of petroleum jelly to catch their attention. She was amused by the various reactions her young victims exhibited when getting a gentle poke in between the cheeks. Some seemed to actually look forward to her little exams while others shied away and hid from her gleaming smile and curious touch. There were those who reacted with horror and those who squealed with delight; there were a few who sobbed away pitifully at the shame of it all, and there was a whole set who simply resigned themselves to endure yet another inconvenience imposed on them by their overly protective caregiver.

Irma’s favorite bare bottomed playmates were those few special boys who were the worst hypocrites about their feelings; it wasn’t enough that they feigned reluctance and disgust at the suggestion of betting their bottoms examined, but then they would display the most poorly disguised delight and even ecstasy in response to their bullying babysitter’s intrusive touch. At the first sign of a thermometer or a jar of petroleum jelly such a lad’s face would turn bright red and he would begin squirming and mewing without even realizing it. Face down over her lap, he would whine and cry and complain about being too big or mature to have his bottom examined – “I’m not a baby, Nana!” he would complain – but once his bare cheeks were spread and she touched his little rosebud with the tip of her finger, he was the breathless model of cooperation.

Irma’s aunt was also notorious for her cruelty toward young males. Her most famous claim to fame was the “special salve” that Irma would one day put on Samuel’s penis. Smeared on a healthy young glans and forced into the urethra with a cotton swab, it had a proven history of getting tears from the toughest young lads and wilting their perverted desires. It was especially effective when smeared under the foreskin of an uncut lad, like young Samuel, for instance; shielded by the extra layer of protection offered by that delicate little hood of skin, the burning ointment would linger for hours, causing the worst kind of irritation and eliciting the most delightful cries for mercy!

Irma and her aunt constantly received requests to share her secret formula with worried mothers, concerned aunties and disgusted sisters. Complaints ranged from boys spending too much time in the bathroom, looking at anything that resembled pornography and hanging out with the wrong crowd. There were also those persistent nasty stains in their undies and bed sheets. The two women gave away the recipe freely, content in knowing that their gift was a catalyst in the pacification and taming of unruly males and shaping their fragile egos.

Guided by her cunning mentor, Irma also developed a taste for controlling certain young offenders through pleasure as well as pain. She was amazed to see how brilliantly her aunt initiated the masturbation process while bathing the lads in her charge, easily done with slippery hands under all those soap bubbles. Shocked squeals, bashful giggles and blushing faces were an added bonus to her little game.

“Control the male organ, control the male, young or old,” her aunt often said. “That’s the real secret to life.”

Those boys approaching adolescence were the most vulnerable and pliable, their red faces and cries of protest giving the young Irma a most powerful, perverse thrill. She loved taking charge of a naughty lad, stripping him down to his birthday suit, rendering him to tears with a bare bottom paddling and then sticking him in a tub filled with soap suds. The real fun came when she reached under the bubbles and took control of his rebellious ego. The initial awkwardness and protests inevitably gave way to gasping breath and rolling eyes.

This was great fun for the apprentice babysitter. She was amazed at how her exhausted victim almost always became submissive and beholding to her; all she had to do was hint – or threaten, depending on the young lad’s disposition – that she might pleasure him again and he would do anything she asked.

Auntie was most certainly right, Irma Tully thought with a smile. Control the male organ, control the male.

Another diversion Irma learned from her aunt was “the kissing game.” That technique often began with blowing playful raspberries on a youngster’s bare stomach, tickling and teasing him until his defenses were drained beyond any effectiveness. Clothing would be lost in the process, and the biting and kissing targeted the more sensitive areas of the body. Panicked shrieks for mercy would ensue; needless to say, experience and cunning inevitably won out over youthful enthusiasm. In the comatose state that followed, the weakened lad would lie helpless as his tormentor kissed and nipped away to her heart’s content; no part of his naked body was safe from her lips and teeth, from his bare bottom to his little “pink pearl.”

“Ew, Auntie! I can’t believe you did that!” The young Irma was simultaneously appalled and enthralled when she first witnessed her mentor’s antics. “You’re terrible!”

“Don’t knock ‘til you tried it, young lady,” her aunt admonished. “Remember what I said, control the male organ, control the male.”

Despite her initial prudishness, Irma loved watching her aunt play her naughty game with her young victims. Their fevered pleas for sympathy were delightful and watching them struggle to escape was the greatest fun. Eventually she joined in the merriment, helping her aunt methodically strip and seduce their prey until he was a blubbering, beaten mess.

“And you say I’m terrible,” Irma’s aunt once teased her. “You’re just as bad!”

Indeed. Together one evening the two women conspired to seduce on an elementary school boy left in their care. Like a pair of thirsty vampiresses, they attacked the poor thing as he settled down for bed, stripping him down to his birthday suit in the pretense of playing an innocent babysitter tickle game. Soon they were nibbling and kissing nearly every inch of the hysterical child’s body, leaving him helpless and exhausted to the point of passing out.

The teenaged Irma watched, fascinated, as her aunt buried her face in between the thighs of the slumbering lad and sucked on his little organ until it was standing straight up on its own, happily bouncing about and eager to please. The older woman then pulled away and gave her niece a knowing wink and a nod. Taking her cue, Irma eagerly moved in and took her first taste of the much pondered “pink pearl.” The power she felt was amazing beyond words as she engulfed that curious erection in between her lips. To her surprise and relief, the world did not end. As a matter of fact, she was so excited about her own boldness as she sucked and licked and nibbled away at the happy little penis, she even gave her victim’s ballsack a kiss before pulling her face from between his trembling legs.

“Shame on you, girl!” Her aunt gently scolded her as they dressed the unconscious boy in his pajamas and pulled up his covers. “And you were judging me? You’re just as bad!”

“I don’t know about that,” the apprentice babysitter said with a blushing smile. “I might be even worse.”

Young Irma soon adopted her aunt’s techniques as her own and she employed them throughout her life on males of all ages. She didn’t use them all the time, mind you, only with certain exceptional boys in certain exceptional circumstances. Much like the games she played with their bare bottoms, she quickly learned that in the littler boys it elicited waves of hysterical laughter while the school age lads reacted with confusion and shame.

It’s interesting to note that Irma Tully’s late husband was a huge fan of the kissing game and he was grateful for the experience. Mr. Tully died young, unfortunately, so this wasn’t something she enjoyed as often as she liked with an adult. No matter. There were plenty of exceptional youngsters and exceptional opportunities to practice her trade.

Samuel Oliver, of course, was an exceptional child. Irma Tully adored that young lad from the moment she met him and she made it her goal to turn him into her personal pet. He was gorgeous to look at, not to mention bashful and fun to tease. Above all else, he was easily manipulated; being trapped in a troubled home with inattentive parents easily allowed for the bullying babysitter’s cruel shenanigans.

To think that Samuel’s mother pays me to have fun with my little baby doll, the scheming matron thought happily once she realized her good fortune. Lord knows I have enough money. I’d pay her handsomely in a heartbeat for this privilege. Isn’t life wonderful!

And now it was Christmas morning and Irma Tully had this exceptional boy, her precious pet, all to herself for the cold winter holidays….

***

Reaching the bottom of the steps, Irma Tully put her hands on young Samuel’s bare shoulders and directed the naked child to the archway entering the parlor. She pointed to a small decoration hanging overhead and smiled.

“Oh look, baby doll! Mistletoe! You know what that means, don’t you?”

Samuel blinked. He blinked again. Suddenly his eyes went wide as the light came on in his brain. It took him a moment to realize what was being suggested and once he did he cringed. There was no use in resisting, of course, and so he relented as the bosomy babysitter pulled him close, her strong, talon-like fingers gripping his shoulders a little harder than necessary.

“Pucker up for a big old Christmas kiss from Nana,” she cooed sweetly. “This is what happens when you stand under the mistletoe!”

Samuel hesitated for an instant, then did as he was told, tilting his head back and pushing his lips out like a little bird waiting to be fed by its mother. Mrs. Tully chuckled at the sight. She could tell he dreaded kissing her, and that was all right. If he was too eager, well, where would the fun be in that?

The conniving woman puckered up her own lips and leaned down and pressed her mouth against the child’s plump, innocent mouth. As she held him in a smothering kiss, she reveled in her naughty little game. She was tempted to do something even naughtier.

I wonder what he would do if I knelt down and kissed his little pink pearl again, right here and now, she thought with girlish glee. There’s nothing to stop me. She giggled in the midst of her kiss. After all, we are under the mistletoe!

After long, blissful kiss with the flustered lad, she pressed his blushing face in between her gigantic breasts.

“Merry Christmas, baby doll,” she sang warmly.

The happy woman thought about her little secret. I wonder … if I did that, if I kissed him on his wee-wee right now, would he run away and hide … or would he just stay here and let me have my way with him? He didn’t run away when I did it upstairs, she thought with a smile. I bet I could do it right here in the hallway and he’d just stand there and let it happen! Wouldn’t that be funny!

The truth was, Irma Tully had a long history of stealing little kisses from all over young Samuel’s body. She normally got away with her little crime by doing it while he slumbered. The night before – on this very Christmas Eve, in fact – she’d given him a healthy dose of his nightly cough syrup, four table spoons of the nastiest tasting concoction strong enough to ensure a sound sleep in even an adult male. After an hour, right on schedule, he was out like a light. His little member was easily awakened and eager to play, of course. All she had to do was lay the sleeping child out spread eagle on the bed, put her dentures in a glass on the nightstand and enjoy her illicit though tasty little snack.

Irma had to laugh at the memory of her perverse little Christmas gift to herself. Oh, what great fun she had, playing with young Samuel! Laid out before her, naked from head to toe, his lovely young body was like a buffet for the old woman’s aging senses. No part of him was safe from her playful touch and ravenous palate; from his plump pouty lips and adorable ears to his cherry-like nipples and cute little piggy toes, she had a little taste of everything, taking her time and sating her voracious appetite. She felt like a young girl again, joining her aunt in the kissing game with her life-sized dolly, savoring the freedom to play and explore and do what she wanted.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, she thought wickedly. Then again, it might be fun to see what he’d do if he did know!

The naughty bits were the most fun, of course. With poor Samuel lying face up and his legs lifted up and spread wide apart, his bare bottom and ballsack were a delight to nibble on. His skin was as smooth and hairless as that of a newborn baby, a delight to kiss and lick. Irma Tully giggled to think of how many times she’d left lip prints on his cute little powdered bum and nibbled not so gently on his peach-like scrotum. She savored the smell of lavender and lilacs on his naked skin; it was like a delicate dessert, mouth-watering fresh and tasty. She even went as far as to taste his little rosebud, which was assured to be as clean as the vintage china in her dining room hutch, thanks to the strict and thorough enema regimen she imposed on her precious pet during his visits.

But the main attraction was Samuel’s pretty pink penis, of course. The scheming bully took absolute delight in slipping the sleeping child’s lovely erection in between her lips and running that delightful little pink pearl over her gums. Pulling back his delicate foreskin, over and over she would lick and caress the sensitive glans until it was bright red and dripping wet. In his codeine induced sleep Samuel would moan and gasp ever so softly, until his body spewed forth his nocturnal passions; the following morning he would awaken weak-kneed and sore in the oddest places.

Irma, you’re a bad girl, she said to herself as she stood under the mistletoe. She clutched the breathless boy to her chest and relived her naughty little game in her mind for just one more minute.

You wicked, wicked girl. You probably need a spanking, too, she thought with a giggle.

I wonder what he dreams of when I have my fun, Irma asked herself. There’s something buzzing about in that cute little curly blond head while I’m playing, no doubt. He would certainly be surprised to know it was his old Nana who was responsible for those nips and bites between his legs, I’m sure!

The idea of telling Samuel the truth about his nighttime tickles amused the bosomy babysitter. Shame was an active ingredient in her repertoire and she loved pouring it on thick with poor Samuel. He was susceptible to embarrassment and twice as easy to make cry. Pinching him on the tip of his penis and then kissing him on his “boo-boo” just that morning was no accident. His reaction was predictable … and priceless! Seeing him blush and stammer and squirm made her feel young again; hearing his indignant protest was music to her ears.

It’s always fun when they put up a fight, the scheming bully thought to herself. But it’s even better when they beg for more! By the time I’m through with Samuel, he’ll be so confused he won’t know which end is up!

What a wonderful Christmas this was turning out to be!

***

Samuel Oliver stood beside Mrs. Tully at the bottom of the stairs. His bare feet felt cool on the hardwood floors. He hated walking around the house in his birthday suit, but at least his ordeal in the bathroom was at an end. The atmosphere in the parlor was eerie, but oddly pleasant. While the overhead lights were out, the tree was lit and Christmas music was playing, giving the room a glowing, exciting feel. The bewildered boy could smell the aroma of something sweet baking in the kitchen; a gust of warm air from the antiquated furnace gave his pudgy, nude body a moment of comfort and joy. He was pleasantly surprised to see there was a fire in the fireplace, adding to the mystery and excitement of the moment.

“This is really weird,” he whispered softly as he stared at the ornate tree and all of the packages before him. “And kinda scary, too!”

The dazed child felt like he was in a dream. To be celebrating Christmas in this eccentric woman’s house – and in his birthday suit yet! – was, well, just not right. He was used to being with his parents, opening up presents, playing with the latest toys and enjoying a festive day of gluttony, laziness and typical twelve year old self-indulgence.

But in the wake of his parents’ ugly divorce – and his mother’s peculiar change of personality – life had taken a much different turn. Instead of sitting in his own living room awaiting a day of joy, Samuel was naked in his babysitter’s house, standing before a brightly lit Christmas tree, nervously anticipating the horrible whims of his cruel guardian and whatever strange little mind games she had in store for him.

This can’t be a good day, he thought sadly.

***

In spite of – or perhaps because of – young Samuel’s misery, Irma Tully could not have been happier, of course. It had been a long time since she’d been this excited about the holidays. She was so grateful to have received such a precious, perfect gift to enjoy. The plump woman looked at the child before her and greedily rubbed her hands together.

“Oh, sweetheart, you are so adorable! Turn around so Nana can get a look at her precious little angel in front of the tree.”

The smiling woman watched gleefully as the nude child paused for a moment, then complied. He shyly turned around and around in a carefully choreographed routine honed to perfection. Hands by his side, the blushing boy awkwardly shuffled in a tight circle, eyes cast downward, his bottom lip protruding in a perpetual pout.

Irma Tully giggled like a young girl, indeed, like a child on Christmas morning. She marveled at her innocent victim’s soft, pudgy figure, his round pink bottom, plump little belly and budding breasts; the glowing lights of the tree reflected off his pale skin in the most charming, festive manner.

Indeed, the vision before her was a true feast for ancient eyes, with so much to look at, so much to savor, so much to treasure. The cherubic face with the sad blue eyes and pink lips, all framed together by blond, tousled curls was enough to melt her heart. It suddenly occurred to her that, surrounded by the festive lights and decorations, he looked like a Christmas ornament himself.

“What a precious little thing you are,” she sang cheerfully. “You look just like a little Christmas angel!”

Samuel looked up at her with a hopeful but skeptical look in his eyes. “Are we going to have Christmas now, Nana?”

Irma Tully clasped her hands together in praise of Jesus. “Oh yes, baby doll. We’re going to have Christmas now. And this is going to be the best Christmas ever!”

***

Samuel Oliver was stunned as he realized just how many of the presents under the tree actually belonged to him. The naked boy was on his knees for the longest time sorting through the brightly wrapped packages. He was truly surprised to see they nearly all were for him. While some came from Mrs. Tully – he wasn’t certain he wanted to know what was inside them – several were from his mother and there were even a few from his father!

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all, thought the bewildered child as he fondled a package that looked suspiciously like the box for a GI Joe. I sure wasn’t expecting all this!

Samuel was particularly excited to see the presents from his dad. He really missed his father and he would have given anything to be with him; oh, to be far, far away from his smothering, mothering captor! But since that was impossible, for the moment, at least, he would settle for whatever gifts his dad sent him.

Mrs. Tully can boss me around and be mean to me, he thought angrily, but she can’t stop my dad from getting me stuff!

The flustered boy tried not to show his excitement as he settled down amidst the stack of packages. But his facial expression belied his emotions. Mrs. Tully chuckled and clapped her hands with playful authority.

“I bet you can’t wait to open your presents, can you? Well, be patient, you greedy little thing. We’ll get to all that soon enough. But first let’s take our medicine and have a nice little warning spanking. Nana deserves some fun, too, you know.”

Samuel froze. He couldn’t believe his ears.

Not again ….

“A … a spanking? But why? I haven’t done anything wrong, Nana.” The naked lad bit his lip and pouted. “Please, not another spanking. Not on Christmas morning. Pleeeeeassssse …?”

“Tut tut! No arguments, baby doll. First our medicine, then a little warning spanking. You can get back to your presents soon enough.”

The naked boy took in a deep breath and gritted his teeth. He then put his hands together and pleaded his case.

“Can’t just skip the spanking, Nana?” he squeaked. “You gave me one last night and I’ve been good ever since. I have been good, haven’t I? Please? Pleeeeeease?”

Mrs. Tully’s eyes lit up and for a moment Samuel thought she was going to laugh at him. He knew he looked stupid, kneeling on the floor in his birthday suit, hands clasped together as he begged. But he did what he had to do. That old woman’s spankings really hurt!

“Yes, you have been a good little boy, that’s true,” the bosomy babysitter sang in a cheerful, sugary sweet voice. “But you’re not being good now, are you? You’re arguing with Nana and we can’t have that. Come on, little elf. The sooner the better … unless you want me to get my paddle.”

Samuel cringed. As much as he dreaded getting another “warning spanking,” he sure didn’t want the paddle. That was way worse! Feeling like a little child, the seventh grader stood up and padded barefoot across the room and stood obediently before the smiling woman.

“Medicine first. Open your mouth. You know the drill.”

Hands behind his back, eyes lowered, Samuel opened his mouth and waited patiently as his grandmother produced the dreaded bottle of castor oil.

“Mmmm, here comes the yummy yummy for your little tummy,” she sang. “Got to make sure our little baby doll’s tummy tum tum doesn’t get all gummy wummy!”

One … two … three … four tablespoons of the awful stuff went into his mouth, followed by the rude act of having his nose pinched shut until he swallowed it all without gagging. The poor boy’s stomach churned as the noxious elixir worked its way through his body. He knew that in a few hours things would not end well as a result of this simple yet disgusting act.

“Such a good boy,” the old woman said with a chuckle. “We have to watch out for our baby doll’s health, you know.”

Next came the “warning spanking,” Mrs. Tully’s cute phrase for one of her most dreaded inventions. Supposedly designed to “warn” its recipients to be on their best behavior, the warning spanking was typically the first step to tearing down any resistance or reluctance to cooperate. In keeping with the custom, Samuel already had one warning the night before when he arrived at his grandmother’s house. To get another one so soon was unusual but not surprising. It was a ritual that he despised, but being a good and submissive child he didn’t bother to resist. He knew from bitter experience that as long as he cooperated it would be over soon enough.

“Upsy-daisy, here we go,” sang a cheerful Mrs. Tully as she pulled the red-faced boy close and bent his plump body over the white apron that covered her broad lap.

Samuel’s eyes burned with shame as he looked down at the hardwood floor. He was twelve years old, not five. How many times had he been in that position since his mother first met this awful woman? How many times had he submitted to her tedious scoldings, her intrusive fondlings … and the painful paddlings on his bare skin?

The flustered child tried to sigh as he did the math, but it came out as a sob, he was so upset. Tears burned his eyes and he started blubbering like a child half his age. Great. Crying only made him feel worse. Before the first blow was laid he was bawling heavily and deeply.

“I’m sorry, Nana … I tried to be good. I really did. Please, don’t spank me again ….”

That’s just great, he though bitterly through his tears. The old witch hasn’t even hit me yet and already I’m crying like a little sissy! That’s why all this is happening to me. I guess I deserve what I get. Stupid sissy! Too scared to fight back … I may as well just admit it and go along with everything else she does to me ….

SLAP!!!

Samuel flinched with the first blow. It was hard and sharp and took his breath away. Something told him this was not going to be just another “warming spanking.”

WHAP!!!

“OW!!! *gasp!* Oh gosh, Nana, that hurt!”

“Of course it hurt, baby doll,” came the grandmotherly reply. “It’s supposed to hurt. That’s what spankings are all about. It’s just a warning to be a good little boy and do as Nana says.”

CRACK!!!

“OWWW!!! *sob* Nana! *gasp* It huuuuuuuurrrrrtssss ….”

As with all of his paddlings from his grandmother, this one took forever. True to form, Mrs. Tully took her time, humming and singing and giggling as if this was actually fun for her. Each blow was hard and ferocious and spaced out long enough to let the fiery pain spread across the poor lad’s soft, inflamed flesh.

SMACK!!!

“Please, stop … *gasp* … no … *sob* … moooooorrrrrre ….”

Blow after blow from the rough, calloused hand rained down on the plump white cheeks, igniting burning ripples of excruciating pain to the sensitive skin and through the squirming boy’s pale body. His flailing legs were given additional hits, a warning for him not to put up a struggle lest things get really ugly.

WHACK!!!

“Aaaaaiiiieeee … Nana … *sob* … you’re hurting meeeeeee!!!”

Samuel tried pursing his lips together as tight as he could, but it was futile. He knew fighting back was useless. Within seconds he was sobbing and slobbering in complete and total capitulation, barefaced and uncontrollably giving in to his grandmother’s mercy. Or lack there of.

“Nana, please! *sob* No! *gasp* No more … no more!”

THWACK!!!

“OWWW!!! Nana … *gasp* … noooo … it hurts … it hurts ….”

This long-standing ritual went on well beyond the customary twenty blows. It became something of a timed event, a marathon of corporal expertise meant to satisfy the old woman’s need for expression rather than put the young victim in his place. Samuel sobbed and cried in absolute surrender, and by the time it was over he felt as though he’d lost time, as though days and not minutes had passed him by.

SLAP!!!

“No … *sob* … no *gasp* mooooorrrrrre ….”

At long last it was over.

That one spanking had been one of the worst Samuel ever experienced in his life. It may have been the spanking itself, or it may have been the circumstances. After all, how many spankings have you had under the shadow of a Christmas tree? Either way, the hysterical child was in such pain he barely realized that his grandmother had already applied the usual prescription of soothing lotion to his inflamed bottom and was pushing him to his feet.

“Thank you so much, baby doll,” she said, pulling the helpless boy close and hugging him tightly.

Samuel Oliver blinked through salty tears and wiped his nose on his bare arm. He sobbed for a while before catching his breath enough to say anything.

“Thank you for what?” he finally asked.

The old woman smiled. “For my Christmas gift. For being here with me on this wonderful morning and enjoying our time together. And for letting me have my little bit of fun.”

Samuel blinked as he tried to comprehend what she was saying.

“You know Nana has to have her fun. The problem is you’ve been so good lately that I haven’t had much of a reason to spank you. That’s why you had to get a Christmas warning spanking. Otherwise Nana wouldn’t have gotten her little bit of Christmas fun!”

“Fun for you, not for me,” he said bitterly.

“Well, just the same, thank you for my Christmas gift.”

Samuel nodded. “You’re welcome … I guess.”

Mrs. Tully saw the look of confusion on the defeated child’s face and laughed.

“Oh, you silly thing! You are so funny!” She pulled him close again, this time to kiss him on his chubby pink lips. “I know it hurt, baby doll, but you make Nana so happy when you let her paddle your pretty little bottom. Don’t you worry, angle. Nana will make it all up to you. This is going to be a very good day. You just wait and see!”

The bosomy bully gave Samuel another kiss on the mouth, then hugged him tight.

“Merry Christmas, baby doll,” she whispered in his ear.

The naked boy wiped his tears on his bare arm and reluctantly returned his babysitter’s hug.

“Merry Christmas, Nana,” he said with a whimper.

To be continued ….

(The End)