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The Other Side of Folklore	By : 3picurean Category: Fairy Tales, Fables, Folklore, Legends, and Myth > Folklore Views: 29082 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: All stories and characters are fictional. I own nothing, much less folklore. .

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At the risk of looking lazy, I'll quote wikipedia here first:

"Krampus is a mythical creature. In various regions of the world ï¿½ especially Austria and Hungary ï¿½ it is believed that Krampus accompanies St. Nicholas during the Christmas season, warning and punishing bad children, in contrast to St. Nicholas, who gives gifts to good children. Due to German and Austrian influence, the myth of Krampus is also prevalent in Croatia, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Slovenia and northern Italy.

The word Krampus originates from the Old High German word for claw (Krampen). In the Alpine regions, Krampus is represented by an incubus-like creature. Traditionally, young men dress up as the Krampus in the first two weeks of December, particularly on the evening of 5 December, and roam the streets frightening children and women with rusty chains and bells.[1] In some rural areas the tradition also includes birching ï¿½ corporal punishment with a birch rod ï¿½ by Krampus, especially of young girls. Images of Krampus usually show him with a basket on his back used to carry away bad children and dump them into the pits of Hell."

For those who are more scholastic, Delilah Scott and Emma Troy's book on "The Upside Down Christmas Tree: And Other Bizarre Yuletide Tales describes, on p.130, how adults dress up as horned demons on Krampuslauf and menace random people, or even to go drinking and flirt with young girls.
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The old man of the dairy farm grappled with his rheumatism as he hauled his cart of chopped wood toward the house, grunting and weaving around the occasional frosted tree. The season was here with a vengeance, and the bitter cold, paradoxically, stirred a warmth within the old man. It was the memory of childhood, of holidays, and of the warmth of a well-used oven and hearth. When you live in such a humble backwater of Austria as Schladminger was at this time. The veins of the family and the community ran deep in this weather-faced patriarch, and though he was warmed within, there was also a bitterness in his life. The source of his shame and worry lay in his daughter, a fair-haired milkmaid with a reputation that had only begun to trickle down to him- which to him suggested that everyone else in town was inundated with talk of her. He would naturally be the last to know. The trail he made through the snow finally made its way to his beloved home. He left the cart out front, rubbing his hands together from the burn of rope and frost. He opened the door quickly, storming in and ready to collapse beside a bottle of brandy, when to his surprise he saw the long flaxen hair of his seventeen year old daughter. The mass of gold was obscuring a head poking out from a fur blanket on the floor. From the way she clenched the blanket around her, he could guess that she was nude, and the empty bottle beside her indicated she was passed out drunk on what was not hers. Her cheerful, flushed young face, so deceptively innocent, gave strength to the claws around the old man's heart. As he shouted at her thoughtlessly, she awoke in a daze. He stalked off yelling "the Krampus take you, you whore!" She grabbed the blanket close to her full bosom, covering the attributes that had earned her the ambiguous title "the milkmaid". They were girlish but ample handfuls that she loved to *accidentally* bump and brush up against all of her male friends. Once Lenhard the miller's son had lost a ring to her, which she playfully dropped down her corset. This had resulted in a nipple-stroking session that had snowballed quickly. Some speculated that it was all the beer she drank, for beer could give a lady a fuller bosom if drunk early and frequently. Or a man's for that matter. Much was whispered about her, but it didn't seem to stop many of the whisperers from giving her a good time.

Presently, she blushed to think of the unfortunate situation she had gotten into with her father just now, so she quickly donned a fur coat and headed out. As she began her stroll, she felt a new sort of holiday chill; one that touched the spirit, one more infernal than thermal. The moonlit night and its cold bite seemed frightening, and yet tantalizingly mysterious. She walked out into the yuletide winter air, boots trudging through snow. She heard laughter and commotion in the distance, and a wisp of smoke caught the moonbeams and clung to them. Curiously, the flax-headed milk maid crept curiously toward a bonfire in the woods. There, she saw men who were horned and dressed in woolen costumes, all brandishing birch rods as they danced and capered in ways decidedly ungodly. To her shock, the flame seemed to be growing, and in it she saw a black throne with a nameless horror in its center. She saw a real Krampus take shape, growing a real tail and hooves, and fusing to his horns as they howled. "Look! Maria the Milkmaid. Maria the shameless!" Howled one young man. She gasped and stood frozen in place as the lurid-eyed demon who had just appeared turned to fix her with his lustful and twisted gaze. The Krampus came heart-stoppingly close to her and sniffed with large nostrils. His nose went between her legs and he squeezed her thigh. He shook his head and wagged a finger at her wickedly. Drunken hoots and hollers followed. The young lady flushed, and she squeeked as her fine hair was grabbed roughly, and she was maneuvered into an ass-up position with her face in the snow. He breasts touched the ground as well, hardening her nipples to the cold, and perhaps due to something more than cold. She knew her traditions well enough to know what came next. Her bared ass was smacked hard by the birch rod. Each time made her full fruit-like rear to blush more beautifully than any sunset. Maria was clearly unwilling to resist her punishment. Even when her pretty blue eyes watered, her breathing accelerated, and her hand strayed shamefully to her searing slick sex every now and then. She gasped whenever a blow strayed too low. Just when she was sure she was getting bruised badly, she was turned over on her back. Claws pinched her frostbitten nipples and drew little scrapes over her full breasts as she was groped. She whimpered but ground against him as his massive, inhuman shaft brushed her. He burst into her forcefully, stealing the breath from her momentarily. She was being stretched almost painfully by the beast, but this too had its appeal. She groaned. She wrapped her legs around the krampus and closed her eyes panting as she was driven against a tree, and satiated loudly to the sound of grunts and jeers from far away.She was finished quickly, and multiple times, but the krampus was as lasting as night itself. Only the crowing of the rooster brought her relief. The Krampus bid her adieu mockingly. "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" He whispered. He realized that his punishment had been bittersweet, but this lady wasn't all bad. She was plenty disobedient, and deserving of a birching, sure. Yet her yuletide spirit of giving- of cheerfully sharing with all- was most inspiring.
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