The Krampuslauf

By Bethany Baker

Ylva has a reputation for being naughty with the village boys, and being chased with a birch branch is hardly a deterrent. But when a mysterious stranger appears at the yearly Krampus run, Ylva might finally get the punishment she deserves…

 

Kidnapped and whisked away to the cabin of the mysterious Krampus, Ylva's treated to a thorough spanking and then a spicy yuletide treat.

 

(All characters 19+) 

 

THE KRAMPUSLAUF is an erotic monster romance short story (~8k words), HEA guaranteed, with a historic Norse setting. Featuring chasing, spanking, and brat kink—because sometimes being naughty is just so much more fun than being nice. Detailed content advisories are available on the author's website.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bethany Baker
• Release date: Dec 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223246473

Bethany Baker

Bethany Baker (she/they) writes erotic romance that blends the familiar and the fantastical, the erotic and the emotional, the silly and the sexy—into one downright tasty concoction.  When she's not baking cookies or writing smut, she enjoys collecting weird animal facts and going for walks with her partner. She has two cats, who go by "Disaster Bean" and "Chaos Baby" more often than their actual names. Content advisories for all works are available on her website. You can find Bethany on Tumblr, Instagram and Threads @BakeCookiesWriteSmut and on Bluesky @pinkest-nekomata.bsky.social

Book preview

I

Yuletide was Ylva’s favorite time of year.

The smell of fresh greenery indoors, all the little candles twinkling among the boughs—it was like bringing the glimmering night sky indoors to the warmth of the crackling fire. Then there was the singing, the games, the feasts, the wine, the drunken kisses, the sneaking outside for a little bit more than a kiss... the long nights had their benefits. The cover of darkness made all sorts of delightful deviance possible.

On the new moons, when you could hardly see your own hand in front of your face, she only bothered pulling the boys a few strides off the path before reaching down their trousers.

They called themselves ‘men’, but they were still barely twenty, so they were ‘boys’ to her. She’d just passed her nineteenth name-day herself, but she’d hardly call herself a ‘woman’. ‘Women’ practiced embroidery and fretted about dowries and dreamed about finding a husband. Girls were still wild, unkempt things with dirty feet and tangled hair.

It was the day before the solstice and Ylva rode Petrie, the butcher’s son, on a snowbank behind the meat shop. Strands of wavy brown fell loose from her braid and clung to her face. Her fur coat and tunic were half-unbuttoned, and Petrie grasped her bare breast.

The cold hardly bothered her—her body ached with so much heat. She loved being on top—she could rock her hips just-so and almost always cum.

Y-Ylva, I’m close...

Me too, she whispered. J-just a few minutes more—oh, this feels so good...

M-minutes, Ylva... I’m not... I’m gonna...

Ylva lifted her hips just in time—Petrie’s seed spilled out onto his stomach.

Ylva huffed and plopped into the snow next to him.

Why did you stop? Petrie said, sounding disappointed.

Because I don’t want to get pregnant. I told you that, Ylva said. Besides, you can touch it yourself. And not just now. Any time, did you know that? You won’t even go blind or turn into a goat or whatever your mother tells you.

Why do you care? Petrie’s expression was one of utter confusion.

Because maybe if you did that a little more, you’d last longer, Ylva snapped. If I’m the first hot thing to touch your dick in a week, of course you’re going to pop like a keg.

We-we could go again, Petrie said, hopeful.

Ylva signed. No, I’m not in the mood to suck cock.

Well, but... you were just...

No, now I’ve got to be careful. That... gestured to the smear of white