I’m delighted to have Anastasia Vitsky, a writing friend of mine and fellow Blushing Books author with me here today. Here first book with the publisher, The Vengeance of Mrs. Claus, was released December 8, 2012.
In a Christmas spanking story, most people can imagine Santa spanking a naughty girl. But what about Mrs. Claus? Does she spank, too?
What I love best about writing is that I get to create a fantasy world in which anything can happen. I also like to turn expectations and story conventions upside-down. There are plenty of Christmas stories in which skeptics learn the “true” meaning of Christmas and come to believe in Santa Claus. I decided to do the reverse. In The Vengeance of Mrs. Claus, my new release from Blushing Books, I play around with the idea of Santa and being real. However, in my storyverse Santa is real but children are taught that he is not. Because this is spanking fiction, the requisite “naughty or nice” list comes into play with a twist: It’s not Santa who should be feared but Mrs. Claus!
Except for the Mrs. Claus-is-real twist, the setting is an ordinary family with ordinary problems. Mother and adult daughter are exasperated with each other. Husband and wife work to keep the passion alive in their third decade of marriage. Parents teach Claire, their adult daughter, to be morally and financially responsible. Claire reaches out to her friends and neighbors in journey to grow up, and her meeting with Mrs. Claus is the moment when she finally understands what it is like to become an adult.
Unfortunately for Claire’s bottom, this realization only comes when she is face-down over Mrs. Claus’ knee. Poor Claire.
In some countries, turning 21 means gaining the right to vote and drink alcoholic beverages. For Claire Labraun, the Christmas after her 21st birthday would be beyond her wildest imagination.
Minelle and Matthew Labraun believed in a traditional marriage. Matthew was head of their household, and Minelle was his helpmeet. When it came to raising their headstrong 21-year-old daughter, however, they found themselves at a loss. Minelle had always taught Claire to do the right thing for right’s sake. Claire, however, had different ideas. She rebelled against their rules, flaunted authority, and connived to get things she wanted. She had never been spanked in her life; Matthew and Minelle kept that adult privilege strictly between themselves. But this year, a visit from Santa plus Claire’s newly adult status would change her idea of Christmas forever.
Minelle gave a nervous giggle. “Matthew,” she whispered as she ran a hand down his arm, “slow down. I don’t even know what we’re doing.”
Matthew gave a flick to his wrist that sent the soft, silky strands of the flogger playing across her breasts. “I am,” he said slowly, “performing my duties as a husband to my wife.” He unbuttoned her blouse further.
“No, no, what if the kids come in early? We can’t…”
Matthew finished unbuttoning her blouse and tossed it aside. He let the flogger dance across her newly bare flesh, smiling in open delight and desire as she began responding despite her protests to the contrary.
“I should work on my lesson plans for tomorrow, get dinner started…the chicken needs to thaw…”
“Do you honestly think,” Matthew growled, taking her into his arms, “I’m interested in dinner right now?”
Minelle gave a little shriek, blushed, and nuzzled her cheek against his rough denim shirt. “We’re sensible adults and parents,” she protested. “Too old for this foolishness. Now let me go and…”
Matthew reached for her pants and tugged at the elastic waist. “Careful what you say,” he warned. “Don’t forget I’m older than you are. Are you calling me old, little girl?”
Minelle blushed. She had been just seventeen when the twenty-four-year-old Matthew started courting her, and he was her first and only boyfriend. Sometimes she felt too young for him even now in the midst of comfortable middle age, but at other times she felt much older and wiser. On their first dates, though, when he taught her about kissing he had teased her by calling her his “little girl”. His friends called him a cradle-snatcher. Just barely twenty-two when they married and twenty-three and twenty-five when their children were born, she often felt she had grown up right alongside their babies. It was ridiculous after all these years for him to still call her “little girl,” but something inside of her tingled at the name.
“Yes,” she whispered, trying to ignore the funny flips in her stomach as he eased her pants and then her silly granny panties first down to her knees and then completely off. “You’re far too old for this nonsense and I should put my clothes back on and take that chicken out of the freezer…”
“Put a hand on your clothes and I’ll stop playing nice with the flogger.”
Matthew’s voice cut her short. Minelle gave another little giggle and glanced up entreatingly at her husband of just over twenty years. “Honey…”
Matthew set the flogger down and fingered the buckle on his belt. “Or there are other ways to make you listen…”
Minelle gave a delicious shiver. She didn’t have time for this, she told herself. Except her body wouldn’t listen. Matthew’s work-roughened hands turned her onto her stomach and explored every inch of her, a heavy callused palm landing on her bottom.
“Ouch!” she exclaimed.
Matthew bent over and held her hair away from her neck, kissing the little bone that jutted out at the top of her spine and then working his way down the length of her back. At each kiss she shivered half with delight and half with anticipation. “Now let’s talk about this silly diet of yours,” he began.
Ana’s Twitter (@AnastasiaVitsky)