Tara knew that their annual Yankee swap could get a little bit heated. It was mostly an excuse to get friends together in their apartment and show off their twinkling decorations and sing along to “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” The swap itself was a secondary concern: everyone brought a wrapped gift and took a number written on a slip of paper and took turns choosing gifts. There were rules about when people could choose new gifts and when they could steal someone else’s gift, and the game naturally led to a bit of drama as people got attached to particular presents only to have them snatched away. Tara tried to be very clear about the rules so there was at least no confusion; she sent them out with the invitations and printed them out on little slips of paper and explained them to everyone as they began the exchange. Generally there was some playful ribbing and perhaps even trash talking but no genuine arguing or disappointment.
But Tara was a little concerned about her girlfriend Cassie’s behavior this year. Cassie had been in a bit of a difficult mood all day, starting when they were decorating for the party. She kept joking about “winning” the Yankee swap; Tara kept reminding her that it wasn’t a game for people to win. And she made a tremendous fuss about lighting real candles in addition to the fake flickering battery-powered ones. Tara finally compromised by agreeing to put them on the windowsills, where they’d be out of the way of most of the bustle of the party, but not before reminding Cassie that she needed to behave better if they were going to have a nice party.
Aside from the candles, Cassie’s seemingly boundless enthusiasm was put to better use when it was channeled into all the party preparations. Together they put up garlands and lights, adding to the festive air that the Christmas tree already provided. Cassie mixed several batches of cookies and put the first set into the oven while Tara tasted the simmering mulled wine and added a few more spices. It was a narrow galley kitchen, but they’d learned by now how to work alongside one another comfortably, reaching deftly to get things from drawers and ducking under open cabinets almost without thinking. They settled into long silences, the only sounds the quiet bustle of activity in the kitchen and the holiday playlist they’d already put on the living room speakers. The sun was already setting outside, but apartment was bathed in golden light. Their radiator rattled along in its corner and the scent of cookies and spices filled the air. The living room was filled with layers of soft surfaces: overlapping carpets, cushions on the floor, blankets draped over couches and armchairs. The whole thing had the feeling of a grown-up blanket fort: utterly inviting.
Cassie had hung a little sprig of mistletoe over the entrance from the kitchen to the living room. Tara kept coming in and out of the kitchen to set out food and drinks around the room, and every time she came back to get something else from the counter Cassie pulled her into the doorway to kiss her. As they’d finished getting everything ready and the first guests started trickling in, Tara grabbed Cassie by the wrist and pulled her under the mistletoe one more time. After a quick kiss, she leaned into her ear and reminded her quietly that she needed to be on her best behavior. Cassie mumbled a response and Tara planted another kiss on her forehead before switching fully into hostess mode, bustling around the room to introduce people and offer drinks. Cassie melted into the crowd, happy to help with the planning and setup but more comfortable as a participant once things got started.
Maybe a bit too comfortable, Tara noted an hour into the party, once they’d gotten the Yankee swap underway. She’d hoped her reminder would be the last she needed to give, but Cassie’s behavior had taken a turn for the worse. She was sighing dramatically and now openly pouting, perched in the corner of the couch with her arms folded. Tara shot her a meaningful look from across the room; Cassie scowled back at her playfully. Tara returned the empty plates she was carrying to the kitchen, then stepped behind the couch leaned over, speaking quietly. “Cassie, do we need to have a discussion?” Cassie started and shook her head quickly. “Then show me. Show me you can be good.”
“Okay,” mumbled Cassie. Tara decided this was a good enough answer for now. She ruffled Cassie’s hair affectionately and kissed her cheek. Cassie wrinkled her nose at this but couldn’t keep from smiling.
Twenty minutes later, the swap was running fairly smoothly. At a quiet buzz from her phone timer, Tara slipped off into the kitchen to pull the last batch of cookies out of the oven. She loved having people over and taking care of them for a little while, and she also loved these moments: the quiet lull of stepping away from the party, having the kitchen to herself, knowing that people were enjoying themselves and had everything they needed. Through the open doorway she could hear the sounds of the living room: voices overlapping in cheerful conversation, the Christmas playlist in the background, the clink of a glass set down on a coaster, the rustle of paper as someone opened a present —
And suddenly, a squeal. Cassie’s squeal, which she knew far too well. Tara hurried to the living room.
Things had devolved very quickly in Tara’s absence. A heated argument had devolved into Cassie trying to snatch one of the still-wrapped present’s from Amelia’s hands; the squeal must have come as Cassie was grabbing for it. As Tara watched, frozen in the doorway, she saw the bewildered Amelia tighten her grip while Cassie tugged at the present, yelling, “Amelia!” at a very high pitch. Suddenly, the wrapping paper tore off in Cassie’s hand, and the box itself flew back over her head behind the couch, where it skittered across the floor to stop in front of Tara.
A hush had fallen over the room. The cheerful Christmas playlist continued unaware of the situation, now awkwardly loud and bright in the silence. Tara bent down to pick up the box, half-unwrapped and dented.
She could hear Cassie apologizing to Amelia, quiet, words tumbling out in panic and regret. That was all she needed to know for now. She straightened up and addressed the room with a strained smile. “Excuse me, everyone. Let’s pause the swap here for a minute. Cassie and I need to have a quick conversation in private. Please help yourself to more wine and cookies. I’ve just put a fresh batch out to cool in the kitchen and they should be ready in five minutes.”
She stepped neatly across the detritus of wrapping paper and gifts and paused at the door of their bedroom to look at Cassie. Cassie was frozen, blushing deeply, thinking about what Tara must mean by saying they’d be gone for more than five minutes. She wanted to disappear, or failing that run and hide, but the living room was a minefield: paper, presents, glasses of wine, friends lounging on the carpet or on pillows. She could feel her friends looking at her. She glanced up at Tara, pleadingly, and saw her girlfriend’s eyes narrow a bit. She was losing patience. Cassie got up and made her way across the room, eyes on her feet, unable to look anyone in the eye.
Tara held open the door for her and shooed her in, then shot the room a warm and apologetic smile. “Back soon,” she said. She reached over to the speakers to turn up the holiday playlist a bit, placed the present beside them, then stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.
Cassie had already fled as far away as possible, which wasn’t very far: she was standing in the opposite corner of the room, the bed in between them. She’d crossed her arms and her face was pink. She was torn between apologizing for her behavior and arguing with Tara about this clear overreaction.
“Please, Tara, I’m sorry! But Amelia — ”
“Cassie,” said Tara calmly and firmly, “Is there anything Amelia did that could have justified you snatching a present out of her hands?”
“No, but — ” Even as Cassie said it she knew there wasn’t anything good way to end this sentence. Amelia had picked up the present, and she had wanted it, so she had tried to take it. That was definitely not part of the rules of the Yankee swap that Tara had so carefully explained. Nor, she guessed, was shouting, or her stubborn refusal to let it go.
“No buts, Cassie. Amelia didn’t make you cause a scene. That was your own choice, and it was a poor one. Amelia is a guest in our home. And Amelia is not my concern. You are. I don’t need to know what Amelia did because I’m not in charge of her. I just need to know this: do you have any excuse for the behavior I saw just now?”
“No, I… I guess not. I’m sorry.”
“I appreciate that, Cassie. But I don’t think you’re really sorry for causing a scene out there. I think you’re sorry that we had to come in here to have this discussion, and you’re sorry about what’s about to happen, but we need to make sure you’re really sorry for your behavior and that it won’t happen again.”
“Please, Tara, I promise!” Cassie whined. She really was sorry, she thought, but she just wanted to make the whole incident go away. She wanted to say sorry and then never think or talk about it again. She did not want to deal with this incredibly embarrassing conversation, much less with the punishment she knew was sure to follow. And when she promised, she really meant it: it was so easy, standing here now, to see how silly she had been, and to think that she would never again do anything so foolish or selfish or uncalled for. She thought that promise should be enough for them to move on from the whole thing.
Tara shook her head calmly. “You’re lucky I didn’t deal with you out there in front of all of our friends.”
“Tara!” Cassie’s eyes widened and she stomped a foot in protest.
Tara raised an eyebrow. “I could still change my mind about that, little girl, so I’d be careful if I were you. You caused a scene in front of all those people and they should know that you’re being properly dealt with.”
This was too much for Cassie, but instead of protesting this time she buried her face in her hands. It was awful enough that they did know, and she could hardly bear the thought that all of her friends on the other side of the wall knew exactly what kind of discussion she and Tara were having right now. She backed against the corner and imagined it swallowing her up. Again she wished she could disappear. Or stay in this room forever. Or at least stay in this room until everybody left, and then find a whole new set of friends so she’d never have to look at them again.
“Eyes on me, young lady,” Tara said calmly. Cassie knew she was supposed to look at her when they were having this kind of discussion but she found it incredibly difficult. She spread her fingers a bit so she could peek through them while still covering her face, and Tara bit back a smile at how silly and adorable she looked.
Tara pointed to a spot on the carpet near her. “Come here,” she said. Cassie hesitated for a moment, but seeing no other choice, she came around the edge of the bed to stand in front of Tara, lowering her hands to fidget with the hem of her dress. Tara took a seat on the foot of the bed and reached out to still her hands, gently. “Hands on your head.” She saw a little scowl cross Cassie’s face as she hesitated, so she added, “If you can’t listen to me, Cass, you’ll have your hands on your head in the corner, and then we’ll deal with the rest of your punishment.”
At that, Cassie put her hands on her head right away. She wasn’t exactly eager to get to her punishment, but she’d rather get it over with than have to stand in the corner first. She deeply detested cornertime. Standing here with her hands on her head was a little better, she thought, but only a little. She felt incredibly small standing like this despite that fact that she was taller standing than Tara was sitting. And she felt terribly exposed and vulnerable even though she still had her panties up and her skirt down. She knew Tara could change either of those things at any moment, and probably would. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, turning onto the sides of her feet, but very slowly so she wouldn’t get scolded for fidgeting.
Tara let her stand there for a few moments in silence and discomfort, not bothering to tell her to stay still. Then she spoke, very quietly. “Do you understand why we’ve having this discussion, Cassandra?”
“Yes,” Cassie mumbled. Tara raised an eyebrow. “Yes ma’am,” said Cassie, a bit more clearly this time.
Cassie was looking everywhere except at Tara: the pattern on their bedspread, the art on their walls, the hairbrush on the bedside table. Almost without thinking, her eyes came to rest on the closet where Tara kept the rest of her implements. Her stomach did a little flip. She knew this was serious, but she wasn’t sure how serious. She started cataloging the implements in her head, not sure which she feared most, her nervousness growing.
“Eyes on me, Cassie,” said Tara softly.
Cassie looked at her. She hated having to stand here like this. She was embarrassed and annoyed at the whole situation. She was annoyed at herself for getting so carried away, and at Cassie for making her stand here like this, and, irrationally, at her friends for being out in the living room and making the whole things worse. Standing still and looking at Tara seemed like an impossible task when she had so many thoughts and feelings tumbling through her.
But Tara was, as always, calm and focused. “Why are we having this discussion, Cassie?”
Cassie squirmed. “Because I made a scene and tried to grab Amelia’s present and tore the wrapping paper.”
“Mhmm. We went to all that trouble to throw a nice party for our friends, and instead of having a nice time with them you had to go and spoil things. And you were warned about your behavior today, weren’t you, little girl?”
Cassie struggled to keep looking at Tara’s eyes, thinking back to the hours they’d spent preparing and how excited they’d been to have people over. She hated that they were here instead of having a good time at the party. And she especially hated that Tara was in here having to deal with her instead of enjoying herself. “Yes ma’am,” she said quietly.
“And what did I say would happen if you couldn’t behave yourself?”
“You said… we’d have to have a discussion.” Tara’s warnings had seemed like little blips in a day full of festive party preparation. They were just tiny little hints that things could go in a different direction. And now Cassie had let herself get carried away and ruined the whole lovely evening.
“That’s right. And what kind of discussion do you think that will be?”
Cassie blushed and looked down again; Tara let out a little “uh uh” and she looked back up at her. “Um, one where I get punished, ma’am.”
“Oh?” Tara paused, staring at her, waiting for her to say more.
“One where I get punished on my bottom, ma’am.” Cassie could barely stand looking at Tara as she said this; it was the most embarrassing thing she could imagine, and she could feel herself blushing as she said it.
“That’s right, Cassie. Girls who can’t behave themselves at parties get punished on their bare little bottoms.” Cassie blushed even more deeply at this. Tara continued, “We’re going to deal with your behavior in here, and then you’re going to apologize to Amelia, and we’ll have a nice time with our friends for the rest of the party. And if I see any more poor behavior from you tonight, I won’t hesitate to bring you right back in here. Or even deal with you right out in front of everyone so they can see what happens to young ladies who can’t behave themselves. Is that understood?”
“Yes ma’am,” said Cassie.
Cassie was clearly embarrassed enough by the entire discussion so far, by the fact that her friends all knew she was in trouble and the way Tara had scolded her. Tara decided that she didn’t need the additional embarrassment of going over her knee right now, and they didn’t need to take any more time away from the party than was absolutely necessary. Instead, she’d deal with her much more quickly. She got to her feet and grabbed a pillow which she placed at the edge of the bed, right where she’d been sitting. “Over you go,” she told Cassie.
Cassie’s brow furrowed a little. She bent over the end of the bed, grateful to avoid going over Tara’s knee but worried about what her punishment would involve instead. Bending over the bed like this always meant something other than Tara’s hand. She heard Tara rummaging in the closet where she kept her implements and hoped she wouldn’t choose something too terrible.
Tara put the cane on the bed. Cassie squeezed her eyes shut when she saw it, as if she could make it disappear. “Please, Tara,” she said pitifully. Tara very rarely used the cane, and she hated how much it stung. Tara ignored her pleas.
Tara came up behind her and adjusted her position a bit before lifting the hem of her green dress. She smiled a bit as her girlfriend’s panties came into view: red with little candy canes printed on them. Cassie really did like getting into the holiday spirit. She just needed to learn how to channel that spirit more appropriately.
Cassie let out a little whimper as Tara lowered her panties to her knees. “Please, Tara,” she begged.
Tara gave her bottom a quick smack. “Cassie. You know that when you get punished it’s always on the bare bottom. Now are you going to stop whining and take your punishment like a good girl?”
“Yes ma’am,” said Cassie, sounding very sorry for herself.
Tara took a step back. She picked up the cane and swished it through the air. Cassie flinched as she heard the whooshing sound. Tara surveyed her girlfriend’s bottom methodically and made a decision. “I’m going to give you six, Cassie. I need you to count these for me.”
Cassie scowled into the comforter. She hated having to count like this. She was still feeling a little stubborn and indignant, and a part of her just wanted to fuss. If this punishment had to happen — which, apparently, according to Tara, it did — she at least didn’t want to have to participate in it so actively.
But here she was: bent over the end of the bed, bare bottom up in the air, just twenty feet away from her friends who still got to be grown-ups, who didn’t have anyone in charge of them. And she was going to have to count the strokes out loud, just in case she wasn’t already aware enough of how helpless she was and how much Tara was in charge.
The first stroke came suddenly.
“Oh! One, ma’am!” Cassie gasped.
Cassie was keenly aware of her friends in the other room, and didn’t want to embarrass herself further by making too much noise. And she didn’t want to give Tara the satisfaction of hearing her yelp or squeal. Instead she gave into a dozen tiny little protests: muffled whimpers, squirms, little kicks of her feet against the carpet that wouldn’t be enough to bother the neighbors or get her further scolded but did something, for a moment, to distract her from the searing pain in her poor bottom. It had been ages since she’d gotten the cane, and she’d forgotten just how much it could sting, just how sharp and focused the pain was.
Tara tapped the cane gently against the middle of Cassie’s bottom, aiming the next stroke carefully. This one was a little lower, and Cassie’s voice got a bit higher pitched as she counted it out. “Two, ma’am!” She kicked her feet more frantically this time.
Tara paused, waiting for Cassie to still herself. “I know you get very enthusiastic about parties and presents and Christmas. But there’s a difference between enthusiasm and misbehavior, and it is absolutely unacceptable to yell or grab things from our friends like that. Amelia is our guest and you were very rude to her. And you could have hurt her or one of our other friends, or started a fire if you’d hit one of those candles when the present went flying. I will not tolerate that sort of behavior. Is that clear?”
“Yes ma’am.”
As soon as the words left Cassie’s mouth, Tara brought the cane down for the third stroke. Cassie yelped loudly, partly in pain and partly in shock. The sharp sting filled her mind and left no room for worries about her friends in the other room. “Three, ma’am,” she squealed.
“I know you can do better than this, Cass,” said Tara. “I know you can control yourself. I know you can be a good girl and we can have friends over for parties without worrying about your behavior. Do you think I’m wrong?”
“Yes — um, no ma’am.” Cassie found it difficult to concentrate on the specifics of what Tara was saying at this stage. There was too much else to think about, all jumbled together: the pain in her bottom, now no longer quite so sharp but still very much present and, she knew, about to get worse; the struggle to stay as still as she could; the difficulty of keeping track of the number of strokes and remembering to say them out loud; the shame over what she’d done to get punished in the first place; the embarrassment of being in this position, over the end of the bed with her bottom bared for discipline; the vague worry about how she would handle returning to the party once this ordeal was over; the terrible knowledge that she’d disappointed Tara and, she supposed, herself. Parsing whether Tara was looking for a yes or a no was nearly too complicated for her; all she could really focus on right now was the pain in her bare bottom and trying to stay still.
The cane whizzed down again. Cassie bit her lip and buried her face in the comforter, whimpering incoherently, her hands scrabbling for something firm to grip but finding only the soft cotton. “Cass,” said Tara patiently, “I’m going to need you to count, here. I don’t want to have to start over.”
Cassie’s head shot up. “Four, ma’am!” She couldn’t bear the thought of beginning again. Two more strokes would be bad enough.
“That’s better,” said Tara. “You earned this punishment, and I know you can take it like a good girl.”
The next stroke was very low, across the tops of her thighs. She rolled to one side and reached down to grab her bottom with one hand, squeezing at the tender spot where the stroke had hit. “Five, ma’am!” she yelped frantically.
Tara placed a hand in the small of her back to still her and guided her gently back into position. She gave her hand a squeeze as she placed it back in front of her. “I know, Cassie. We’re almost done. I need you to stay still for me now. Just one more.”
There was a long pause before the last stroke. It was right in the middle of Cassie’s bottom, and it felt to her as if it was on top of all the other strokes. It certainly hurt more than the rest of them, and added to the existing pain in a way that made her gasp. She was grateful it was the last one because she was absolutely sure she couldn’t bear any more.
“Six, ma’am!” Cassie rolled to one side again, squirming and kicking her feet. Tara watched patiently until she settled down. As she did, Tara sat on the bed beside her and rubbed her bottom gently. She could feel the raised weals where the cane had struck. But she wasn’t looking at the prettily striped bottom: she was looking at Cassie’s face, in profile against the blue comforter, her cheeks flushed. With her free hand, brushed the hair out of Cassie’s eyes.
“I’m sorry we had to do that, Cassie.”
“Me too,” said Cassie, a bit petulantly.
“Oh? Is that all you’re sorry for?”
Cassie squirmed. “I’m sorry for losing my temper and grabbing the present from Amelia and causing a scene.”
“Good girl. Do you have anything else to say?”
Cassie bit her lip, pausing for a long moment. “Thank you for disciplining me, ma’am.” A part of Cassie hated having to say this. But a part of her also knew she meant it. She was even more aware of that now, with Cassie taking time away from the party they’d spent so much time planning to deal with her.
Tara bent down and planted a kiss on Cassie’s temple. “You’re welcome, young lady. I’m glad you’ve learned your lesson.” She stood, and stepped behind Cassie. Her panties had worked their way down to her ankles, and Tara bent to lift them up for her, pulling them gently up her legs. Cassie scrunched up her face at this: she found this incredibly embarrassing and hated the reminder that Tara was in charge. She decided when Cassie’s underwear came up or down, and she wouldn’t hesitate to pull them down again if Cassie continued to misbehave. She nudged Cassie to lift her hips a bit so she could get the panties over her bottom, and smoothed them out before giving her a little pat. Cassie squirmed a little at this, but she was mostly being dramatic. Tara lowered her dress and smoothed that out too.
“Now, you can get up and come back with me whenever you’re ready. I expect you to be on your best behavior for the rest of the party. Is that understood?”
“Yes ma’am.” Cassie got up to her feet and immediately, wanting to get this over with. But first she needed a hug. She threw herself into Tara’s arms.
“Good girl.” Tara folded her arms around her, squeezing her tight and resting her head against hers. She waited: she’d be there for as long as Cassie needed her. For a few long moments neither of them was aware of the living room full of friends or the music drifting in through the door or anything at all except each other’s breathing and each other’s bodies.
Cassie sighed in relief, leaning back to look up at Tara. Tara’s arms were still around her waist, holding her safely. Tara looked down at her with a tender smile. “I don’t want to have to interrupt things again, but if I need to I absolutely will. I know you can behave better than this and I want our guests to have a good time.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Good girl.” Tara planted a kiss on her forehead. “Ready?”
Cassie made a little face but stepped back and smoothed down her dress. “Ready.”
Cassie emerged from the bedroom a half-step behind Tara, still blushing furiously. Her friends knew what had happened but they also knew better than to tease her about it, at least for right now. She headed back towards her spot on the couch, sitting down very carefully and squirming a bit to try to find a comfortable way to sit on her sore bottom. She winced a little and then turned to Amelia, who was still sitting in the chair nearby. “I’m sorry, Amelia,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset and shouted and grabbed the present.”
From across the room, Tara gave her a warm smile, the sort that silently said good girl. She was digging around in the pile of presents under the tree. Always thinking ahead, she’d prepared a few backup gifts in case her guests showed up empty-handed. She gave one to Amelia, got the game started again where they’d left off, and settled in on the couch next to Cassie, putting an arm around her shoulder. Cassie was much calmer now and much less invested in the drama of who got which gift in the Yankee swap.
Snow was starting to fall outside: big soft flakes that floated in the air, dancing in the golden light from their apartment. Cassie wondered idly if it would stick, but decided she didn’t care. She couldn’t think about shoveling snow or cleaning up after the party right now. She was warm and safe and content. She snuggled up against Tara’s shoulder. She was exactly where she was supposed to be.
The Night Light 
One thought on “Yankee Swap”