It was snowing hard on December fifth, in west Texas, where a bouncer was tossing a angry, screeching young lady out of a roughneck bar. The troublemaker, a pretty pixie-faced blonde from Germany, named Belinda Krüger, landed with a loud thud on her big bottom, on the hard frozen blacktop, and bounced across the parking lot, cursing in German all of the way. “AUH! My poor popo!”, she snarled, as she raised up to all four, rubbing her smarting behind, when she heard a voice behind her, a deep, sinister sounding voice, as dark as a Midnight Mass.

“Ah, I recognize that naughty bottom, since I’ve seen it so often.” Turning around, Belinda froze in fear. Standing before her was a huge jet black demon, with a bundle of birches in his hand, “KRAMPUS! But … this is America!” “So?”, the evil looking creature replied, “I told you last year, Belinda, if you didn’t behave yourself, on Krampusnacht, I would pay you a return visit, no matter where you were. And you’ve been so very, very naughty. Come here, you wicked girl.”

Krampus lifted the blonde brat up, and placed her under his mighty arm. With a wave of his hand, her pants and panties magically shot down to her knees, leaving her snowy white bottom bare, and freezing in the cold December night air. But it wouldn’t be freezing for long. Krampus began to birch Belinda’s broad backside then, one ferocious stroke after another, until her chubby butt cheeks were covered with welts, each welt burning like a thin line of red hot lava, and Belinda was howling for mercy.

“There, you evil thing, I hope that will be a lesson to you. To behave better next year.” Krampus said as he returned the bawling blonde to her feet. “I’ll be good, I promise” Belinda said, as tears rolled down her cheeks, and she rubbed her scorching posterior, gently tracing the multitude of angry red welts blazing across her cherry red rear with her fingertips.

Krampus laughed wickedly, “YOU? Be GOOD? I’ll have to give you a EXTRA stroke next year for telling me such a outrageous lie.” And with that final remark, the demon disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Belinda, noticing for the first time, how deep the snow had gotten while she was in the bar, waddled over to the nearest snow bank, with her pants still around her ankles, and slowly sat down in the ice cold snow, her sizzling hot bottom turning the snow to steam. She sat there until the five alarm fire consuming her blistered backside had cooled down to a slow burning sensation, knowing from her past dealings with Krampus, the fire he started, would die out eventually, but the welts he left behind, would be there for days and days and days…

But if Belinda is lucky, they’ll be gone by Christmas Eve. Because she’s also on Santa’s naughty list. And she’s about to find out why he wears that thick, heavy, black leather belt.