The list that didn’t burn
Everyone thought the Naughty List was a myth. A scare tactic. A piece of folklore meant to keep boys polite and quiet. But on Christmas Eve, in a softly lit room where fairy lights hummed like conspirators, Amy Grey discovered something Santa had left behind.
A folded paper. Names. Lots of them.
She smiled.
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The red latex Christmas mini-dress she wore was never meant for caroling. Its festive color hid nothing about her intentions. She read the names slowly, one by one, recognizing patterns. Repeated offenses. Broken promises. Smug confidence.
Some people clearly needed a reminder.
Why Santa trusts her judgment
Santa knew his limits. He handled chimneys and gifts well enough, but discipline required a different touch. That’s why the flogger lay waiting in Amy’s hand, not raised, not used, just present. A symbol. A promise.
She adjusted the hem of her red latex mini-dress, pacing the room as if the air itself might confess. The dress reflected the lights back at her, every movement polished, deliberate. This wasn’t about cruelty. It was about accountability.
Each name on the list belonged to someone who had pushed boundaries, ignored rules, or smiled when they shouldn’t have. And tonight, the flogger was for them. For the naughty readers who knew, deep down, exactly why their name might be there.
When the bells finally stop ringing
Midnight came softly. No thunder. No drama. Just silence and expectation. Amy stood still, the red latex Christmas mini-dress flawless, the flogger resting against her palm.
She didn’t need to swing it. The anticipation did most of the work.
Some lessons do need pain. Some need only presence. A look. A reminder that someone noticed. That someone remembered. That next year could be different… if you behave.
So tell me… where would your name be?
Christmas morning would arrive as usual. Smiles, gifts, excuses. But some readers would wake up knowing they had escaped something. Or maybe wishing they hadn’t.
The red latex mini-dress would be packed away until next year.
The flogger, too.
Patient.
And you?
Would you dare to be naughty again, knowing who’s keeping track?
Shiny hugs and love,
Diana
How would you react to this?
