This story is for the
Winter Holidays Story Contest 2023
. As always, your votes and constructive comments are very much appreciated. It is a far cry from my 2022 submission, which was a romance. This is my first attempt at Erotic Horror.
This story borrows heavily from the Protestant tradition of the Feast of Saint Nikolaus and the accompanying Krampusnacht, and the secular tradition of Santa Claus, yet it manages to shred them both.
This work of fiction contains non-consent and minor blood play, but will hopefully give you a few laughs as well.
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Few things brought more joy to Milena than sitting in the dark and gazing at her lighted Christmas tree. Her tree was dressed in silver and gold decorations, as she thought they all should be. It was covered with them, along with hundreds of white lights. She was entranced by the way the light bounced around between the shiny ornaments and eventually struck the walls, floor, ceiling, and furniture. Tonight she was sitting in the dining room, across the foyer from the tree. She liked to sit here because the doorway framed the tree so beautifully, like a painting.
It was getting very late, and the children, Sierra, Chloe, and Willam, were already fast asleep upstairs in their rooms. They'd hung their stockings with care on the mantel before going to bed, and now they were full of fruits and nuts and delicious little morsels, placed there by her. She'd also placed their gifts under the tree, wrapped in blue, red, and green.
The grandfather clock in the foyer began to strike midnight
. I'd better get to bed, the children will be up before dawn,
she thought to herself. Milena stood to cross the foyer and turn off the lights, then paused as two figures blinked into the room next to the tree, and after only a fraction of a second,
blink,
and now there was only one. From her vantage point, she could see the lone figure was dressed in red. It wore a long, fur-trimmed cape that nearly reached the floor, and shiny black footwear with lug soles. The hair on its head was salt and pepper, mostly salt, and fell onto the red cape. As she crept into the foyer a floorboard squeaked underfoot. The figure standing at her tree turned and smiled.
"Milena! Good evening, I thought you'd be in bed so I didn't bother suspending time here on this floor. It takes a lot of energy, you know."
Milena stood there in awe. The figure was a man, dressed head to toe in red save for his shiny black knee-high laced boots. His face was round with his apple cheeks, a button nose, and dimples. His beard and mustache were the color of new-fallen snow. His pointed ears peeked through his hair, which was perfectly coiffed. A large red velvet bag, its opening gathered by a white rope, lay at his feet.
"Santa?" Milena asked, her voice full of wonder.
"Yes, my child. Come," he smiled and motioned her to him.
Barefoot, she crossed the foyer and into the room with much trepidation.
Could this really be Santa?
she wondered. As she approached closer she noticed that this was not the Santa of the poem, the 'right jolly old elf' with a belly like jelly. This Santa wore a red double-breasted suit with tiny white pinstripes, a matching red shirt, and a white bow tie. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist.
Santa is a silver fox! S
he nearly squealed at the vision. She reached him, standing close, and gazed into the most intriguing eyes she'd ever seen. They seemed to contain the night sky, blue-black irises pebbled with flecks of silver and gold. He reached out with his red-gloved hand and gently traced her jawline with the back of his fingers.
"You get more beautiful every year, my dear child," he whispered as he looked lovingly into her eyes.
Santa was right about her beauty. Born in Czechoslovakia, Milena has classic Eastern European features: high cheekbones, deep almond-shaped eyes, a wide mouth, and a heart-shaped face. And she is tall, five foot eleven inches tall. Her blonde hair cascades over her shoulders and covers her ample breasts. She typically wears short skirts, tight white button-down blouses, and high heels, always high heels. Tonight, she's dressed only in a jewel-toned blue satin robe...and nothing beneath it.
"You remember me?"
"Of course, I remember all of my good children. Do you recall that as a child, you cleaned and polished your boots and sat them on the windowsill? You would happily hum little nonsense tunes as you went about your task."
Milena smiled and nodded, "I do."
Those were happy memories of growing up in Czechoslovakia. The Feast of St. Nikolaus had been her favorite holiday. Celebrated on December 6th, it was the highlight of her year because she received sweets, a rare and expensive treat. Each year she would leave her cleaned boots on the windowsill on the evening before St. Nikolaus Day. By the next morning, St. Nikolaus would reward the well-behaved children with gifts such as oranges, dried fruit, walnuts, and chocolate. Unfortunately for some children, so the story was told, St. Nikolaus was accompanied by The Krampus, a frightening helper who doled out punishment for the badly behaved who failed to provide their cleaned boots. Punishment was a thorough thrashing with a birch rod. Horrible children, the worst of the bad, had been rumored to disappear, taken away by The Krampus.
Remembering the story from her childhood, she suddenly grew pale and wide-eyed. There had been two figures in this room for just a moment. Where had the other gone? And who was it? Could it be?
"The other...?" she began, letting the question trail off.
"Ah, you saw him," Santa nodded, "Krampus."
"Wh—, wh—, wh— where is he?"
"He's addressing the problem with young Billy. He's such a little shit, as you are well aware. Did you know that he kicked another dog today on the way home from school? Absolute terror, that boy."
"William?" she squealed, "He's hurting my William!"
She turned and started toward the stairs, but with a wave of his hand, Santa froze her in place. Uninjured, still conscious, she was unable to move. Santa walked around to stand in front of her.
