Last Updated on 1 November, 2025 by Cara Sutra
This Santa ageplay erotica explores a consenting adult power-play fantasy with discipline, praise and seduction. Set on Christmas Eve, it leans into the “good girl” dynamic and Santa roleplay for a festive, filthy read.
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring…
Who was she kidding. She’d be stirring all night. She just wished it was for better reasons. Fuck, she could really do with an explosive orgasm or two right about now. Sadly, the only finger movements this evening were the back-and-forth motions of her pen over lined paper.
Coursework. Or, homework, as her inner ‘little girl’ liked to call it. It’d been due before the holidays, but her teacher had allowed her to work on it over Christmas just so long as it was handed in immediately after the season. There was just so much to do, and so little motivation to do it with.
If only she wasn’t such a naughty, procrastinating girl, she thought to herself for about the 16th time that evening. She should be spending Christmas Eve tipsy on mulled wine in front of festive telly, not scribbling boring facts and figures on lined paper with a chewed-off biro.
Time passed eventually, as it always does. Her head nodded so much that, with the help of the dim lamplight she was soon asleep at her bedroom desk. She hadn’t even made it to bed.
Despite the tiredness which’d shot her down mid-scribble, a rustling and shuffling noise alerted her to a mysterious presence sometime around midnight. She was a sensible girl, if not a very well-behaved one, and what she saw when she opened her eyes was a complete shock.
Sat in the armchair, near the edge of her bed, was Santa. The actual Santa, not one of his many assistants. Black boots, red suit, white beard, hat, mince-pie-filled tummy – the lot. This was Santa, in her bedroom. What the fuck?
Santa was deep in thought, poring over a large book simply entitled, ‘The Lists’. This thick tome must weigh a ton, yet Santa, with his strong, large hands, used one to support the spine and the other to quickly finger through the ink-filled pages. He was searching for something. Ohhh. He couldn’t find her! Was she naughty, or nice?
“Good girls get their homework done on time.”
She jumped so high it was amazing she didn’t hit the ceiling. She didn’t think he’d noticed her -or that she’d woken up. But of course, this is Santa. He knows all things. Except whether she’s naughty or nice, of course.
He looked directly at her. Years of experience shone from his aged eyes, his wisdom seeming to flood through and search her soul, revealing every weakness, bad habit and filthy thought she’d ever had. She felt entirely naked.
There was only one thing for it. She had to convince Santa she really was a good girl.
She didn’t dare break eye contact as she slipped from her chair to the carpeted floor, in case he twinkled away as magically as he’d appeared. Crawling on her hands and knees, she made her way over to his glistening black boots. Her floaty nightie rode up as she crawled, exposing the white cotton panties over her shapely and swaying hips and behind. Escaping wetness from her aching sex was a tingling threat, and it didn’t help that her breasts moved unrestrained beneath her light nightdress as she crawled.
It seemed to take an eternity while crawling, but she was at his feet soon enough. Now she’d reached him, she allowed herself the comfort of squeezing her eyes tightly closed, her head resting on his knee with relief but also remnants of disbelief.
“I’m still not convinced you’re a good girl, little one…”
For someone known for being kindly and compassionate, he seemed to be taking almost a cruel pleasure in maintaining her unease. Her eyes flew open at his voice, the challenging words, and she turned her anxious face up towards him.
Placing her hands carefully on his knees, hardly daring to touch the man himself, she moved his legs apart to position herself between them and closer to him. Below his heavy paunch, underneath the wide black band of a belt and the thick white fur of his jacket hem, her fingers found the zip and undid it. Her fingers trembled with nerves.
He may have been an old man, but his cock was as hard, thick and ready as any young guy. Her endeavours crawling across the floor towards him hadn’t been in vain, judging from the warm pulsing through the stiff member she soon held in her hand. Instinctively she lowered her head to the well-proportioned wonder and nuzzled it affectionately, giving gentle little kisses all over the shaft and around and over the exposed, shining tip.
Licking her lips to ready them, spurred on by his increasing in volume sighs and heartfelt moans, she placed that tip between her soft, young lips. Her tongue met his aged, experienced skin and she tasted the salty essence of man. It was like nothing she’d tasted before, and the taste was doing strange things to her body, not to mention her frenzied mind.
Sucking Santa. Here she was, the naughtiest girl in her class, and proving it. Or was she? All she knew in that moment was that she needed to prove to Santa how much of a good girl she was. Whatever it took.
So that’s exactly what she did. Sucking and lapping and wrapping her tongue around Santa’s cock, working him for every ounce of pleasure she could muster. This is what her mouth was made for, to take him in; teasing gently and lightly with her teeth here and there, only to swirl over the gently nibbled flesh with firm strokes of her tongue, both the large flat area then the tip. Thoroughly working her way around his cock collar and dashing over the sensitive frenulum underneath.
Santa’s thighs were tensing then relaxing around her middle as she kneeled between them, her hands moving between his legs and steadying his cock in her mouth, at times gagging violently as it repeatedly fucked her tonsils. Every time his mighty cock hit the back of her throat, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like hitting her cervix deep inside her pussy. This only served to provide a renewed surge of determination to pleasure this legendary man who sat above her in his throne of judgment.
His moans had turned to grunts so fierce she worried he’d wake the rest of the house. Her heart pounded with an odd but welcome blend of fear and excitement. Suddenly his voice, richly imbued with wisdom, rang out in the room once more:
“Oh, you definitely are a very good girl… good at being naughty. I think you deserve a very special Christmas present, my dear.
Get on the floor, you adorable little Santa slut…”
She did exactly as she was told. As fast as she could move herself, she was roughly shoved to the carpet with legs forcefully prised apart as he towered above her, ready to give what she was happily going to receive.
She learned several new things that night. She learned that Santa comes a lot more than once a year, and in even tighter spaces than chimneys. She discovered a few alternative uses for candy canes. Some things stung like hell but she loved them anyway – Santa does have enormous hands but then he can always magic up more lube.
Unlike Santa, next morning came too soon. She was in bed, alone. Oh. Just a dream, she thought, sadly. Then she laughed at herself. She’d definitely been studying too hard lately.
Wait.
Something glistened on the floor.
Red and green stripes adorned the three torn foil wrappers discarded over the carpet. Each wrapper had a line of text, and she leaned over for a better look.
‘Protect your North Pole’
As the rest of the room came into sharp focus, she grinned at the mountain of wrapped presents and the bulging stocking at the end of her bed.
Seems this naughty girl had managed to persuade Santa, after all.
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