The Naughty and Nice Lists

This is my entry for the

Literotica Winter Holidays Story Contest 2024

. This story contains themes of mind control through magic, nonconsent, humiliation, bondage, and severe punishments. If these things bother you, please look away. I did place this story in the NonConsent/Reluctance category even though there is a very heavy dose of mind control in here; the story at is core is NonCon.

~~~

The fat man snapped his suspenders as he glanced down at the list in front of him. The Naughty and Nice List. He had two of them, but one sat rolled up in the corner of his desk. The one for the children of the world. He was not concerned with the children. Children were precious little things. It was the adults who concerned him. They had the power to harm so many, people, lives, souls. That was the list he had spread before him. He had several problem adults, on the cusp of being placed on the Naughty List for life. A damn shame it was, too.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were for the children, for the magic and wonder they embodied. However, the rest of the year was for the adults. He was tired, very tired. Christmas Eve was just done. He'd had his Christmas breakfast and his Christmas dinner. He was preparing to go out again. To try and turn the adults to Nice and away from Naughty. It was a big task, but part of his duty. He stretched, cracking his neck. He picked up a small sack. It was time to go.

He didn't need his sleigh or his reindeer for this trip, just a bit of the Christmas magic that imbibed his very being. He stood next to his fireplace. Placed his finger next to his nose, and gave a quick nod and up the chimney he arose. He landed in the middle of one young woman's apartment. His magic allowed him to scan the room. She was sound asleep, and his magic froze time, keeping her that way.

With a wave of his hand, the sack opened and purged itself. He took a look at the assemblage and stepped into her room. He sat on a chair next to her bed, the magic lifting and awakening her. "Wha?" She said sleepy, blinking up at him, then she screamed. "Get the fuck out of my house!"

"Now, now dear Grace, is that anyway to speak to Dear Old St. Nick?" His voice resonated around the room, deep and almost echoing. She shuddered slightly, then came back to herself.

"Yeah, right. Everyone knows Santa Claus is a myth." She rolled her eyes. "Leave or I start screaming."

"You may scream as you wish, Grace. And you surely will before the night is over. None of your neighbors can hear. My magic keeps anyone from noticing." He leaned back. This never ceased to amuse him. The doubt. The disbelief. "I'm here because you landed yourself on The Naughty List again this year, Grace. You're a troubling girl, my dear."

His voice echoed and filled her. She wanted to listen to him. She shook her head. No. He was a stranger in her home. He would hurt her. He was going to make her scream. He'd said so himself. "Get. Out."

"I'm trying to redeem you, Grace." His voice echoed, the magic of it pushing against her. "All hope is not lost. But you need to see what happens when you're on The Naughty List." He stood and walked towards her bedroom door. "Come with me." He walked into her modest living room. She had not followed. So it would be like that.

He snapped his fingers, and she appeared next to him. "My dear, there is no ignoring or escaping The Naughty List. I was hoping you would willingly accept your punishments." She gaped around the room. There were several... apparatuses- for lack of a better word- set up. How long had he been here? How had he moved her? He snapped his fingers again, and she found herself bound over one such apparatus. It most closely resembled a narrow bench. Her ass was bare. Her legs were tied tight. She couldn't wiggle them at all. Same with her hands. They were twisted behind her and resting against the small of her back. She could barely wiggle. She was bent at the waist, her stomach laid across the bench. Her breasts were still confined in her tank top, but threatening to spill over the top of her neckline. Her back was arched keeping her held high and locked forward. She couldn't move her head.

"Let me up, you disgusting pervert!" She shouted.

"Please, scream all you want, Grace. If you think it will help." He walked up behind her. "We'll go easy on you to start, but make no mistake, my girl, you will regret your actions tonight. You have two years of atonement to make up for." It was, after all, a three strike system. Everyone has a bad year on occasion. A second one, though, you should have the opportunity to redeem yourself. A third year on The Naughty List, well, there would be no hope for change, then, would there?

"Let me go!" She shouted.

He ignored her. "Now, you're going to count off for me. What I expect to hear you say is, 'One, Santa. I'm sorry for being Naughty.' Or, if you prefer, you may call me Sir." He stepped up behind her. She tried to twist and see what she was doing, but she was stuck fast. She couldn't move. The buckle on his belt jingled as he pulled it free. He folded it in half methodically, and snapped it once. The sound would have made her jump had she been able to move. Dread churned in her stomach as she tried to thrash around. The most she could manage was a slight wiggling of her shoulders and hips. She felt her ass jiggle and stopped not wanting to draw further attention to her bareness.

He pulled his arm back and let the leather belt snap across the pale skin of her ass. She cried out, the pain startling her. "What do we say?"

"Fuck you!"

"Oh no, my dear. I'm afraid that's not it. The count starts over at one until you do it properly." His voice echoed and sounded jolly. She hated him. It swelled in her. His magic could feel it. He was used to this reaction, though, and it didn't phase him. He pulled back and spanked her again. She screamed a second time. It took six spanks, before she gave in. My, but she was stubborn.

"One, Santa. I'm sorry for being Naughty." Her voice quivered.

"What a very good girl. I'm afraid your stubbornness has led to more pain than it needed. But we must endure to get forgiveness." He said. The magic of his voice boomed in her head, and she found herself once more wanting to listen to him. She didn't fight the urge as hard.

Crack! "Two, Santa. I'm sorry for being Naughty." Crack! "Three, Santa. I'm sorry for being Naughty." Tears started to roll down her cheeks. Crack! "Four, Santa. I'm sorry for being Naughty." Her voice broke. "Five, Santa. I'm sorry for being Naughty!" She sobbed out. Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack. "Ten, Santa! I'm sorry for being Naughty!" She was screaming by this point. Her body trembled. She waited, but the next hit never came. She held her breath. Was he done with her yet?

"That's a very good start, Grace. But it was only a warm up, I'm afraid." He snapped his fingers. She found herself sitting on her red and bruised ass. Sitting hurt. The wooden seat underneath her was scratchy and hard. Tears pricked her eyes anew and she hiccuped from her previous crying. The seat was attached to the larger throne Santa sat in. She could see the plush red velvet lining. Its softness mocked her.

His hand rested on her head. "Now you must see what your actions have done." The TV in front of her flicked to life. Her arms were still bound behind her back. her ass was still bare. Short little videos, as if someone had been recording her for the last two years, flashed on the screen. Each time she had been rude. Each time she had snubbed someone. Each time she had been cruel.

Each interaction played, a cascade of awful. Her bad treatment led to more bad treatment and it spiraled. She was sobbing, her breath coming out in heavy pants. She did feel remorse, and it hurt. The pain in her ass a throbbing reminder. St. Nick's magic swelled in the apartment. "You must ask for forgiveness now, my girl." Grace blanched. How? How could she do that?

Santa snapped his fingers again, and this time she was kneeling. Her neck trapped in a metal collar attached to a stand on the floor. Snap! One of the waitresses that she had mocked for an incorrect order stood before her. What? How? Grace tried to pull away, but she was held fast by the contraption and the magic. "Grace..." Santa prompted.

"Please forgive me." Grace whimpered.

"My girl, that is not how one apologizes." Santa's tone was stern, and Grace found herself scrambling to say the right thing.

"I'm sorry I was Naughty. Will you please forgive me?" Grace said quickly, the words tumbling over each other.

The waitress stood staring down at the bound girl, a vicious smile on her face. She grabbed a paddle that Grace hadn't seen until the waitress reached for it. Grace's eyes widened. No... Her ass was still so sore. "I'm afraid, dear one, that proper atonement requires sacrifice and punishment. You must take your licks." Santa leaned back in his armchair and observed.

The waitress hauled back and slammed the paddle against Grace's red ass. Grace cried out. Her ass was on fire. Hit after hit after hit. She would have slumped to the floor if she could. She desperately wanted to cover herself, to protect herself but she couldn't. "Now, I can forgive you." The waitress smiled.

Snap!

A man stood in front of her. He grinned down at her, looking at her as if his dreams had come true. "I'm sorry I was Naughty. Will you please forgive me?" Grace whimpered. She'd thrown her fresh coffee on him when he'd bumped into her. The paddle was in his hand, and he reached out and touched her red ass. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! She sobbed, her whole body quivering. She couldn't escape it. His voice was full of lust as he reached around her body and grabbed her tits. She hadn't realized until that moment, that her breast had come free of her cami, as if it had been pulled down. Her breasts pressed to either side of the metal bar holding the collar up.

He ran his hand over her breast. "I've imagined hurting these tits as payback. That coffee burned me." His voice was sneering, cruel. She tried to shy away.

She opened her mouth trying to protest and found herself saying, "Please punish me for hurting you. Please forgive me." She tried to shake her head, but her eyes were locked on the man as he walked around her body. He swung the paddle as if it was a baseball bat, it connected with one of her tits. She screamed at the sudden pain. He repeated it with the other one. Then reached down and twisted her nipples. No, oh please make it stop, she begged in her head.

"You are forgiven." He said finally. Her tits were bright red. Her nipples standing out. Bruises had started to form already.

Snap! A woman stood in front of her. She didn't remember her, but remembered the name she had called her out of jealousy. "I'm sorry for being Naughty. Please forgive me." The woman glared at her. She picked the paddle up, and Grace tensed as the beating started. She sobbed, cried out, begged and pleaded for the woman to forgive her. The woman walked around and grabbed Grace's face. She shoved Grace's face between her legs. The woman was missing her pants. When did that happen?

"Eat this dirty cunt, bitch." The woman growled at her. Grace, never having done anything like that in her life, timidly stuck her tongue out. The paddle slapped and slapped until Grace was sucking and slurping at the woman's pussy. The woman shuddered around Grace's mouth, spraying her juice in Grace's face. "Remember that. You are forgiven."

Snap! A dirty man stood before her. She tried to recoil from the odor of unwashed body, sweat, and god knows what else. Shame filled her before she could even think. She'd thrown a handful of change at the homeless man and laughed as he scrambled for it. He grinned at her maliciously. She tried to recoil but couldn't. Tears ran down her face. She knew what was coming. She knew what was next. "I'm sorry I was Naughty. Please forgive me." She sobbed.

Humiliation filled her. She wanted to lay down and die right there as his dirty skin met her clean, albeit red and purple mottled body. He squeezed, tugged, pinched and pulled. He rubbed his dirty face between her tits, biting at them, biting her nipples. She screamed out. He raised the paddle and lifted one tit, making it bounce next to his head, while he sucked her nipple into his mouth and bit hard. She screamed. His dirty finger found her mouth, shoving it in until she gagged. Then he ran his hand between her legs, swirling the finger over her clit, and shoving it inside of her. He pressed it against her ass and she sobbed. "Please forgive me for my Naughtiness!" She begged, screaming.

She wanted this to end. She wanted this over. She was a terrible person. She was horrid. The finger pressed into her ass and he spanked her over and over and over. She cried out and sobbed as the finger slid in and out of her. "Now you ain't no better than me, bitch. You are dirty like me." He cackled as he spanked her. She was. She was dirty like him. Dirty on the inside. He took the paddle and smacked between her legs. When had they spread? She hadn't done it. She couldn't have moved them. The paddle hit her pussy, her clit and she screamed out again. She was quivering. She ached everywhere. "You are forgiven." He finally declared.

And that's how it went. Snap after snap after snap. Hundreds of people. People she'd hurt, people who had been hurt by the people she'd hurt. She begged for forgiveness on her knees, took her punishments, and sobbed. Her whole body ached, a physical representation of the anguish she had caused. She looked up at Santa, tears running down her face when he came to stand in front of her.

"I'm sorry for being Naughty," She whimpered, her voice scratchy and rough. "Please forgive me." Her body quivered as his magic snapped around her. Santa stared down at her. She waited for him, silently watching him assess her.

"Yes, I think you are sorry, dear one. Unfortunately though, tonight is not over, yet." His voice boomed.

"Yes, Sir." Her voice cracked. She waited for the next thing.

"Now we must ensure that you never behave like this again, my dear." He said. She shook. Dread filled her. What could possibly come next? Snap! She was standing up, her body unbound but aching. She followed behind him quietly. He sat down in the arm chair, and pulled her carefully over his lap. She shook, but did not protest. "No need to count this one, dear girl."

Her ass was stuck up in the air. Her tits hung down over his leg swaying. The movement causing the pain and fire to burn even deeper. Her nipples just brushed the stool she'd previously sat on, and she whimpered. His hand landed squarely on her bruised ass. She cried out. Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack. She sobbed and thrashed. He'd left her mostly unbound, just enough to keep her from flailing and getting in the way of the spanking. Santa admitted to himself that this was his favorite part about The Naughty List: watching them writhe and scream and beg. But she had not begged. She accepted the punishment without a word. He watched her ass turn deeper and deeper red until it looked purple. He had not counted, getting lost in her screams. Yes, this looked good.

His magic wrapped around them, and, oh my, maybe she wasn't such a good girl after all. "Sir, please, may I be good for you?" She slid off his lap and knelt in front of him again. Her eyes pleading. Tear tracks lined her face in the most pleasing way. This happened sometimes. Punishments often revealed things about a person. Not everyone, of course, but he had not expected this level of submission out of her.

His body responded, naturally. It had been awhile since he'd had a case such as this one. Occasionally, they tried to stay on The Naughty List. But Santa didn't think Grace was that type. She did want to please him, though. She wanted him to be pleased by her. She wanted to be good for him. But he didn't think tonight would be enough for her. No, she was stubborn down to her very core.

He rested his hand on the top of her head, and she smiled up at him. "Tomorrow, dear one, you will see what being on The Nice List will get you. You've had enough for tonight." She frowned and opened her mouth. She would argue with him, his magic told him. "To bed with you now, dear one."

Across the city, across the country, people slept soundly. Dreams of exacting long sought after revenge plagued a small number of people. They slept soundly and smiled. Their dream selves hurting, beating, and enjoying the woman that knelt before them. When they awoke, they woke lighter, happier, as unresolved feelings worked their way out.

~~~

Grace woke up when her alarm went off the next morning. Her whole body hurt. She got up gingerly and went to shower. She looked down at herself. Her chest was covered in bruises and pink, like she's been hit. She frowned. Had she fallen yesterday and not remembered? Did she trip and run into anything? She had been pretty drunk at her family's Christmas dinner, but she didn't think she'd been that drunk. When the water hit her back and ran down her ass, she jumped. The pain seared through her. She twisted around, but couldn't see. She gently reached back and gasped. The pain flared. What had she done to herself? Even her pussy hurt for some reason.

She finished her shower very carefully. She stared in disbelief at the purple mass of bruises that was her ass. She got dressed in her softest clothes and tried to sit tenderly on her couch. The day after Christmas. Her office was shut down until after the new year, and she wanted to relax and catch up on her shows. She shifted uncomfortably. She stretched out on her hip trying to take any pressure off her ass. But the ache was still there. She sighed. She didn't think she was drunk enough last night for this to have happened.

After two episodes, she gave up trying to be comfortable. She'd go pick up lunch, and maybe the walk would help stretch all the aches out. She bundled up. The bitter cold wind whipped around her. As she walked down the street to the small deli two blocks over, she couldn't shake the feeling that people were staring at her. She found herself blushing for no reason. A woman, she looked vaguely familiar, glanced at her and did a double take. Did she know her? She smiled and nodded once, in that vague way you do with a stranger, and continued walking.

She reached for the door of the deli, but it swung open, nearly smacking her. Anger filled her. "Hey! Watch it!" She snapped. And as she did so, her ass and tits throbbed. The man twisted to look at her.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I should have been looking where I was going!" He smiled down at her.

Warmth suffused her even though her body throbbed. She glanced at him up and down. "Uh... Don't worry about it. Just... be careful." She found herself saying. She shifted to the side and he passed her, holding the door open for her to enter. She felt almost as if a fog covered her brain. She stood in line, waiting for Ernie, the old man who ran the shop, to take her order.

"Miss Gracie!" He shouted out when he saw her. "Violet hoped you would swing by today. We saved you some of the leftovers. You don't eat enough. Too skinny, girl." Something about the way he said 'girl' made her body throb again. She couldn't be turned on by old Ernie. He was older than dirt and treated her like she was helpless.

She thanked him for the leftovers, ordered her sandwich, and then left the shop with a wave. Her whole body warmed uncomfortably. With every step, her clothes rubbed her sore body. She was just hypersensitive right now from her fall, or whatever it was. The walk home went much the same. She was convinced people were staring, and it was confirmed when the mailman also did a double take and stared at her. There was something about the look in his eyes. It was lewd. She felt her cheeks flushing and a telltale wetness between her legs formed.