The Christmas Fraternity

by Courage Knight

"So what are we doing this weekend?" Shannon twisted the cap off her beer and flung it in the direction of the trash can. She missed. Kirsten glared at her, but bent to pick up the cap and put it in the can.

"You don't have to clean up after me," Shannon huffed. "This isn't even our room!"

"All the more to mind your manners."

"'Birds in their nest, agree!'" The roommates turned as one to stare at Jennifer, whose room they often congregated in.

"Okay, which dumb book is that from," Shannon demanded, crinkling her nose. Jennifer seldom spoke unless she was quoting something. It was as if she didn't have an original thought in her head. She wasn't stupid - not like Mickey - the fourth in their quintet of friends. Jennifer was just the most unoriginal thinker on campus. Jennifer also had a room to herself, therefore, less junk and more room for them to hang out.

Jennifer also had a really cool older brother. He'd built a loft system for her single bed, raising it up almost to the ceiling. A futon couch, two bean bag chairs and an overstuffed rocking chair circled around a denim braided rug and faced the wide screen TV he'd given her when she'd graduated valedictorian from high school.

Anya swung her long braid over her shoulder and sat down heavily on the futon. The steel springs groaned. "That's from Little Women, you morons. Don't you read anything besides cereal boxes and milk cartons?"

"How else am I going to discover my true identity," Shannon retorted. Then she broke into a wide grin. "Listen to us! We're going nuts. Only two more weeks 'til Christmas Break!"

"Yeah, one more week until finals," Mickey said, her pretty mouth making a perfect pout. "I don't even know why I bother showing up. I'm just going to fail anyway."

"You can't possibly fail everything." Shannon snatched up the TV remote and began cycling through the channels. "You had to be smart enough to get into college in the first place! How did you ever pass you’re A.C.T.s?"

Mickey shrugged. "Just luck, I guess."

The timer beeped. Jennifer slid the pizza out of the toaster oven and set it on her desk to cut into five equal slices - a skill she had perfected at the start of the term. Kirsten passed out paper napkins, and Mickey got beers for the rest of them. Nothing tasted better with pizza than beer. They'd thought about engraving that in the wood frame above the door, but no one wanted to pay the fine when they were caught.

"Want to go Christmas caroling with the Spanish club?"

"No."

"Sledding with the Phi Delta Mu's?"

"No."

"Neuman University Parish is sponsoring a hay ride," Mickey put in.

They fell silent, wondering why they couldn't get into the Christmas spirit. Maybe because there was no snow on the ground. It wasn't even cold out. Wisconsin was enjoying an extended Indian Summer, with temperatures up in the fifties.

Jennifer cleared her throat. "I have an idea." Then she lost her nerve and couldn't continue.

"Oh, out with it, already," Shannon snarled.

"You're not helping," Anya said. "Anyone ever tell you you're rude? My father would have washed that mouth out with so much soap by now you'd have choked."

Shannon shrugged her shoulders. "Glad he's not my father."

"I don't know." Kirsten sighed dreamily. "Ever wish you had a strong father like that? Someone to teach you right from wrong, who'd put you over his knee when you were naughty?"

A stunned silence answered her. Mickey shifted awkwardly, tucking her feet up into the bean bag chair. Shannon gulped too much beer and spit some of it down her shirt. Anya blushed a dark red, and Kirsten wondered just how many times she'd been in that very position.

"I guess, I'd have to admit, it does sound kind of nice," Mickey whispered.

"Not you, too!" Shannon was starting to blush, but Kirsten knew she couldn't be thinking of memories. She'd grown up without a father.

Mickey held her ground. "I haven't really thought about it much. But it does sound, I don't know. Nice. Like he really cared. You know? My dad was gone all the time. Even when he was home, he wasn't really with us. His mind was still at work. You know?"

Shannon wiped the beer off her shirt, sneaking a surreptitious glance at Anya. "So. Was it nice?"

"No." She glared at Shannon, then the rest of her friends. "It hurt. What the hell do you think a spanking feels like?"

They waited, and gave her just enough rope to hang herself.

"Okay. Yeah. It was kind of nice. In a stupid way. I got into just as much trouble as the rest of the kids at school, but I never got away with it. Sometimes I used to envy them. My dad always found out, always took me over his knee. My panties came down, my shirt went up, and he walloped my fanny until I was sobbing like a baby. But afterwards - that made it all worth it. He hugged me, talked to me, and usually made an effort to do something special with me - like take me out to dinner - even if I had to sit on a pillow. He never suspected that I loved spending time with him so much, that a trip over his knee wasn't enough of a deterrent to keep me out of trouble."

"He spanked you on the bare!" Mickey's voice jumped an octave. "On your bottom!"

"Of course. Over jeans you don't feel much. And when your butt's bare, he can see when it's time to stop."

The friends fell silent again, their pizza growing cold.

"Maybe it's time to find out for ourselves." Jennifer pulled a folded sheet of paper from her pocket.

"What do you mean?" Mickey nibbled her thumbnail.

It could take hours to pry the details from Jennifer's lips. Kirsten snapped the paper from her and read the ad herself. "This is your brother's fraternity, isn't it," she asked, seeing the Alpha Alpha Chi logo at the top.

Jennifer nodded.

"Oooh," the other girls sighed. They had decided Jennifer's brother John was just the coolest guy on campus - and in a university as large as theirs, that was saying something. John was six foot two, eyes of blue, with wide shoulders, trim hips, and the well-defined abs of a TV gym commercial. Alpha Alpha Chi was the "geek" frat - opened to all students who maintained a grade point average of 3.95 or higher, male and female alike, but he was so totally un-geeky that the girls forgave him for being smart.

Jennifer wasn't anything like her older brother. She might have been able to make the grade point, but she was too much of a people-pleaser. If her teacher wanted a twelve page term paper, she'd start working on it the first day of classes. Then when her girl friends wanted her help with their papers, she'd do that, too. And if a boy wanted to keep her up all night partying, she'd try to please him, as well. So that term paper was handed in late and unsatisfactory. Then she'd mope around, because she hadn't managed to please anyone after all, not even herself.

"What's so cool about Alpha Alpha Chi?" Shannon snorted. "A bunch of brilliant geeks raising money for kids. Come on! I want some fun, not compete for the Mother Theresa Good Samaritan Award."

"They're not a bunch of geeks," Jennifer said hotly.

"No, of course not," Kirsten agreed, patting Jennifer's shoulder. "John isn't."

Shannon snickered. "Read the damn ad."

Kirsten flicked the paper, cleared her throat theatrically, and assumed a grand pose. "Are you Naughty or Nice? Visit Santa at Alpha Alpha Chi - then it gives the address-"

"Yeah, yeah, we all know where it is," Anya snipped.

"Ten dollar cover charge, proceeds donated to the Empty Stocking fund. If you've been nice, you get your picture taken on Santa's lap and a big kiss. If you're naughty, there's still time to make amends. Santa will turn you over his knee for a good spanking. Then maybe you can expect something other than a stocking full of coal."

The girls screamed.

"You've got to be kidding!"

"Spanked by Santa!"

"That is so - kinky!"

"I wonder who's playing Santa."

"Jennifer - is it your brother? He can spank me any time!"

Jennifer gulped, her face redder than a Santa suit. "I don't know. He wouldn't tell me. But he told me to go, and I feel like I kind of have to."

"Wow. Some big brother. Tells you to go get a spanking," Shannon joked.

"Now wait a minute," Kirsten said. "She doesn't have to tell Santa she's been naughty. She can say she's been nice and just get her picture taken, and donate all that money for poor children."

"That's no fun," Shannon insisted, warming up to the idea of a spanking. "I think we should do it. All of us. But we have to swear to say we've been naughty. All right?"

"No!"

"I can't let some college boy spank me!"

"It will hurt! What if we can't sit down on Monday? I've got two tests that day."

"I think we should do it," Anya said firmly.

"Me, too," Kirsten admitted.

"Me too, I think," Mickey said. They put their arms around Jennifer and coaxed her to agree.

"Okay, I'll go," she said.

"No, you were going anyway. Swear to say you were naughty!"

Jennifer nodded, too crimson to speak.

Shannon burst out laughing. She held her sides, rolled on the carpet, and laughed so hard, her friends wondered if she had lost her sanity.

"What's so funny," Anya snapped.

"We are," Shannon blurted, when she could catch her breath. "We're so bored, that we just all agreed to go get spanked! Maybe we should have joined a sorority after all?"

"Why, do they spank, too?" Mickey asked.

The girls just rolled their eyes.

On Saturday the friends met in Jennifer's room in varying stages of nerves. Mickey's painted nails had all been bitten off. Anya was cross and irritable. Kirsten had dark circles under her eyes, and couldn't keep from yawning. Obviously, she hadn't been sleeping well, although that could have been the approaching finals week as much as her impending spanking. Shannon glared at them. "We can't chicken out now. Anyone who doesn't go through with it, we'll spank ourselves."

Mickey shook her head, her chin hiking up a notch like a defiant toy poodle. "We won't chicken out."

"I hope I don't get my brother," Jennifer said. "That would be just too weird."

The girls laughed. "And we hope we do," they chorused.

"So, what now?" Kirsten wondered if it was too late to find a different circle of friends. She really did not want to go through with this, even though her panties had been damp most of the week.

Shannon linked her elbow through Kirsten's. Mickey grabbed her other arm. The five friends lined up, walking five abreast through the dormitory, doing the monkey walk and humming their theme song. Students scattered out of their way, for they'd learned that when the friends were up to something, there was no stopping them.

Down the elevator, out into the warm December sunshine, then up Lake Street to Langdon, where most of the frat houses sprawled down the tree-lined boulevard, chilly Lake Mendota in the background. Kirsten wondered where the custom of using Greek letters had originated from. Or for that matter, where frats originated from. Frats were stupid. This whole idea was stupid. Her friends were stupid.

"Hey, guys. I can't," she blurted.

"You can, and you will. You're the one who got us into this." Shannon tightened her hold on her arm. "You're the one who said it would be kind of nice."

"Yeah, well, I changed my mind."

"Change it back!"

Jennifer's eyes got watery and she was going to cry any minute. "I told John I was bringing four friends. He might be angry with me if you back out now."

"Grrr! Okay, I'll do it!" Kirsten yanked free from Shannon's grip.

And then they were there. Christmas lights wrapped around the stone pillars and balcony. Evergreen boughs and red velvet ribbons festooned the railing, and a large stuffed reindeer smiled a goofy greeting. The door opened as the girls approached, and a frat geek dressed in green and red with bells on his elf shoes welcomed them inside.

They barely fit. The front room was packed with students. Girls mostly, but a few boys, too. The elf geek took their names and ten dollars and handed them a number. Kirsten's hands were sweaty. She shook her head, feeling a bit like a side of beef waiting for the butcher.

"Read and sign this," the elf said, shoving a clipboard at them.

"What is it?"

"A liability waiver. Just standard," he insisted.

Kirsten gulped. Her hands were too sweaty to hold a pen. Shannon read the waiver aloud, although Kirsten found it hard to pay attention. It mentioned something about bruising, but by signing the form they gave their consent. There was also something about a safe word if they chose not to go through with it. 'Red'. Kirsten would have to remember that, as she knew she'd be using it. She signed the form and passed the clipboard to Jennifer.

More elves - fellow geeks of the geek frat - circulated the crowd, offering Christmas cookies or punch and thanking the guests for their donation. The geek who had welcomed them in also guarded the door to keep them in. Kirsten scanned the crowd, grateful she didn't recognize anyone. This was just too embarrassing.

The crowd seemed to be moving pretty quickly, as another group of eight came in the door and she had to take a step forward. A few minutes later they moved closer still, although she hadn't seen anyone return with either big smiles or teary eyes. They must be directed to leave by a back door, either to ease crowd control, or keep from frightening the next in line.

"Oh, quit being such a baby," Shannon blurted, punching her shoulder.

"I didn't say a thing." Kirsten punched her back.

"I'll switch with you, if it'll make you feel better," she said. "If it's really awful, I'll come back and tell you not to go through with it."

"You'd do that?" Mickey sounded surprised.

Kirsten snorted. "Yeah, sure she would. If it was really, really awful, she'd probably just let us suffer, too."

Shannon giggled. "Aw, shucks, you found me out."

The fat geek with the glasses appeared, dressed in an elf suit. "Number forty-seven! You're next!"

Kirsten stuffed her number into Shannon's hand, and grabbed her fifty-one. "Go ahead! We're rooting for you!"

Shannon tossed her head, her long, straight brown hair falling almost to her butt. She sauntered after the elf, swinging her narrow hips. "See ya!"

Kirsten crossed her fingers. Only a few more minutes, and she'd find out for herself. Maybe she shouldn't have switched numbers.

Shannon followed the elf upstairs and down the corridor. She couldn't hear any sounds of discomfort coming from the bedrooms. Maybe no one else was confessing to their crimes. Or maybe the spankings were just for fun, and wouldn't really hurt. She felt cheated. Did that make her a masochist? There had to be at least a dozen better things she could be doing today. Like visiting the dentist.

The elf stopped before a door and ushered her inside. She gulped, wiping her hands on the seat of her pants. The tight jeans she'd worn over her skimpy black leather thong, back when this had all seemed like fun.

Shannon stared at Santa sitting on his throne. It was two-by-four construction and painted with black enamel, and no arm rests. Santa didn't look like John - although he was just as big. His shoulders were huge - he must really work out! At the end of those huge shoulders and muscular arms was a pair of enormous hands.

Santa patted his thigh. "Come here, little girl."

She forced a wide grin. "Any time, big boy."

Santa put one arm around her shoulders, the other rested on her knees. "So, what have you got to tell Santa? Remember, I know if you've been naughty or nice, so you might as well tell the truth." He had a deep voice. It sounded jolly, like he was enjoying the part.

Shannon took his hand and turned it over, patting the palm. "My, Santa. What big hands you have."

He chuckled, and his belly jiggled - a little. There was pillow padding behind the crimson suit, but Shannon guessed there wasn't much soft about him. The thighs beneath her butt felt rock hard.

"The better to handle all you naughty, naughty girls," he said, still chuckling.

Shannon drew in a deep breath. That big hand could land on her bottom any time. And maybe if he made her cry, he'd kiss it and make it better. She squirmed on his lap, dampness spreading between her legs "Yes, Santa. I've been naughty." She listed a couple of things she'd done - things that probably didn't deserve a spanking, but she felt crummy about anyway. Like snipping at Mickey just because she was dumb. Or taunting Kirsten - it was so much fun to get her riled up, but then she always had to apologize. Since they were roommates, it could get really uncomfortable to let Kirsten stew too long.

Santa listened patiently, his black eyebrows puckering in a stern expression. "I see," he said, when she had finished. "And is this how nice little girls should behave?"

"Geez, you think?" Shannon didn't want to play act any more. This guy was cute, but if he kept calling her a little girl, she'd scream.

"I can see you've got a few lessons to learn yet, young lady."

'Young lady' was only slightly better than 'little girl'. Shannon pressed her legs together, angry at how much his voice was affecting her.

"How long has it been since your last spanking?"

"Uh, forever," she snorted rudely. "Like, I don't have a dad."

"I see." He cleared his throat. Santa stood, then slowly let her down, accentuating just how strong he was. Shannon felt tiny by comparison. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she would have bolted for the door if he hadn't grabbed her wrist.

"You can't escape your punishment now. But you'll feel better when this is over. And if you try hard to be good, maybe I'll even have something nice for your stocking."

She glanced around anxiously. Waiting for the spanking was killing her. No wonder dads sent their kids to their bedroom, or the corner, before punishing them! Her hands crept around to cover her bottom.

Santa's large fingers caught the front snap of her jeans. "Shall I? Or will you do it?"

She grinned, swinging her hips with a naughty twitch. "Oh, Santa Baby. You'd better."

Santa's face turned a shade redder, although it was hard to tell behind the fluffy fake beard. His fingers lowered the zipper, a rough knuckle stroking the sensitive flesh of her lower abdomen. A shiver ran up her spine. Santa sat on his throne then, and guided her over his lap.

She felt really stupid. His make-shift throne was very high, and he wasn't short to begin with. Her legs came off the ground, and her hands barely reached on the other side. Her skin prickled, as though the temperature had just dropped ten degrees.

His big hand rested on her mostly bare bottom. "This is for Mickey," he warned. Then he raised his hand and brought it down with a quick snap.

The sting caught her by surprise. She'd known a spanking would be uncomfortable, but she was a pretty tough kid. Dentists, shots, and skinned knees had never made her cry, but already she felt pressure behind her eyes.

Swat, swat. Left side, right side. Shannon gritted her teeth to keep from crying.

Then swat, swat, swat. Left, right, and center. Ow! The center really smarted. That miniscule scrap of black leather called a thong didn't protect much.

"Santa! That's enough," she said, trying to twist from his arms.

"No, sweetheart." Swat, swat, swat! The center one landed with more force, and a tear slipped out from her tightly closed eyelids. "Not by a long shot."

"I don't want to do this any more! Stop!"

Santa didn't stop. Now his hand moved lower, swatting the backs of her thighs. That really stung! She arched her back and doubled her efforts to twist free. Santa doubled the strength behind each swat.

What a dumb way to spend a Saturday morning! She'd never envy Anya again! How many spankings had she endured, growing up with a disciplinarian for a father? And how would Shannon ever be able to sit still through her finals? The timing for this little fund-raiser really sucked!

Swat, swat.

Swat, swat, swat.

Left cheek, right cheek.

Left thigh, right thigh, center.

Shannon was sobbing now. She couldn't remember when the first tear fell, or when the last time was that she had cried. She had always been a tough kid, but this swinging Santa had reduced her to a blubbering baby. She was mortified more by her tears than her throbbing, nearly naked bottom.

Swat, swat, swat.

And finally, it was over.

Shannon couldn't move, but remained with her head down, her bottom high, gasping for breath between each sob. Santa's hand that had so thoroughly chastised her now patted the hot, swollen lumps that remained of her butt.

"That's a good girl," he said. "We're almost through here."

"Almost!" Her voice broke.

"You've got ten more, for teasing your roommate. Up you go. Now bend over and grasp your ankles. I think this deserves the cane."

Like what old people walked with? He was going to hit her with a solid chunk of wood? That would go above and beyond a little bruising! Then she saw him pick up a flimsy little stick in the shape of a cane. She bent over and grasped her ankles. Next year, if she came back, she'd have to remember to confess less.

The air parted with a soft whisper as the slender rod sliced through it, and landed with a deceptively light kiss on her bruised bottom. Shannon jerked up, grasping both cheeks with her palms.

"Ow! That stings! That really stings!"

"Resume the position," Santa commanded, pointing to the floor.

Shannon glanced at the skinny little cane, horrified that it had pushed her almost to the limits of her endurance.

There was a quit word. The elf had told her about it when she'd signed the waiver. But Shannon wasn't a quitter. If this Santa thought she could handle it, then she would. If he wanted to give her a hundred, she'd take them all. Maybe he'd feel guilty about it later, and want to apologize. She, of course, would refuse to forgive him. She bent down, grasping her ankles.

Swish. Oh!

She clenched her teeth, refusing to budge.

Swish! Her legs trembled.

The next one landed farther down, across the backs of both thighs. She coughed. She'd lost count. Tell her that was ten already!

Swish!

Silence. Santa's hands helped her to stand. He turned her towards his red velvet chest. She buried her face in fur and fleece, sobbing like she could not remember doing before in her life. It felt kind of nice, although her legs were on fire and her bottom had ceased to exist.

She cried for things she'd done as a kid, guilt trips she harbored that sometimes kept her awake at nights. When she had too much caffeine, mostly. She cried for all the little insults she'd heaped on her friends. She knew she could be unkind, and she didn't know why she said half the things she said. It was like some perverse little part of her wanted to hurt them.

Santa continued to pat her back and sway gently. Then he planted a kiss on her forehead.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

Shannon drew in a deep breath, and took a step away from him. "Yeah. I am. Thanks."

He handed her a tiny felt stocking with a lollipop inside. "You be good now, you hear?"

"Absolutely, Santa. But if I fail, where can I find you?"

Santa grinned, pulling a card from his pocket. He tugged down the fake beard, giving her a glimpse of his face. "Scott Ryland. He helps me out sometimes, when Santa has to be someplace else. If that's okay?"

"Tell Scott I'll be calling him!" Shannon tucked the business card down her bra, shaking her tiny, firm breasts to make sure the card wouldn't fall out the bottom. She gave Scott a wicked grin. "Bye!"

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