Cumming For Christmas 1

Edit: Sorry that it took me so long to get around to fixing this story! Thanks to all who submitted feedback, I hope you still enjoy it even with all the typos!

This story is something a little unusual, a festive treat put together from sections from several other (published and unpublished) stories of mine, with a decent chunk of re-work and original work. You might recognise some of the passages if you're a regular reader of mine, but I hope you still enjoy this new story!

As ever, constructive criticism is always welcomed.

Enjoy, stay safe, and have a very merry Christmas.

- J

~~~

"Ho ho ho!" James laughed through the obviously-fake beard dangling around his chin, as he appeared around the door. Emma couldn't help but burst out laughing as she saw him in what must have been the cheapest Santa costume he could find. The long red coat was far too big for his slender frame, and as he moved the hat would keep slipping down over his eyes. When he'd told her to dress festively, she decided on a figure-hugging Christmas jumper over a red blouse that contrasted nicely with her blonde hair, not a full costume!

As Emma tried to stifle her laugher, James took a seat on the sofa and placed down next to him a brown sack full of who-knows-what.

"Why don't you come and sit on my lap, little girl?"

Seductively, she strutted over to him and lowered herself slowly onto his lap at 90 degrees, letting her hand wander slowly up his thighs as she got comfortable. One of his hands, in return, wrapped itself around her slender waist as the other gently gripped her denim-clad thigh. Even through the ridiculous costume, she could feel the power in him, the power he had over her.

"What's your name, little one?" He was putting on a voice even deeper than his usually was, a voice so deep it seemed to rumble through her as he spoke.

"I'm Emma," she smiled in her sweetest voice.

"Emma, eh? That's a pretty name, perfect for a gorgeous girl like you!"

She always got butterflies when he called her that. "Oh hehe, thank you!" She giggled, "What's your name?"

"My name? Why I'm Santa Clause of course!"

"Oh! It's just because you look just like my boyfriend, James, only wearing a silly suit. You've got his pretty green eyes behind the same pair of glasses. And..." Placing her hand on his chest, she leant in close to his neck and let him feel her hot breath on his skin, before taking an exaggerated sniff and pulling away. "Yeah, it smells like you wear the same aftershave as him, I love the smell so I would always recognise it. Plus, your heart starts beating like crazy when I put my hands on you... just like his does."

"Oh ho ho, this James boy sounds like he has excellent taste. I'll have to make sure he's on the nice list this year!"

"Oh, but he's... not very nice..."

"Not very nice?!"

"He's... mean. He's cruel. He calls me nasty names like 'slut' and 'whore' and he hits me!"

"He calls you names? And he hits you?! Oh no!"

"Yeah... he hits me all over my body... On my face, my back, my thighs, my bum..."

"This James boy does all that to you?" As he spoke, he shifted his hands to find what he knew was a sore spot on her thigh and squeezed it.

"Yes..." Emma continued, stifling a whimper, "And sometimes he ties me up... or handcuffs me to something... and he just leaves me there... Squirming, and struggling, as he hits me or touches me or calls me rude names." The memories were rushing back more vividly than she had anticipated, and her heart rate was already beginning to climb as she thought about all of the things he'd do to her. "Sometimes he even... fucks me like that. He ties me up all naked and puts me in position and he just pushes his big, thick, cock into me. And sometimes even if I'm lu- sometimes he even... cums inside me." Her hand slid up Santa's thigh and felt the outline of his cock through the cheap fabric. He must have been imagining it too.

"Oh my, this James doesn't sound like a very nice character at all! But what about you, are you a good girl?"

"Well... sometimes." She fluttered her blue eyes and smiled a sly smile. "I can be very good. When I want to be."

"Oh... When you want to be?" Santa frowned.

"Yes! I do exactly what I'm told, without anyone having to raise their voice. I wear," she gestured to the jumper tight over her body, accentuating her bust, "what I'm told to wear. And make sure I look good doing it."

"I'm sure you don't need to try very hard to look good doing that..." His Santa voice had slipped, the growl of her master was appearing in his voice. Good. Encouraged, Emma continued.

"I sit nice on my knees or on his lap. I push everything into place so he can admire me." As she said it, she squeezed her arms together around her breasts. "And I suck and suck and suck like a good girl should, slobbering all over him, stroking him, licking him, and taking it all in my mouth until I can swallow every last drop...So yes... Master. I think I can be a VERY good girl. For you."

"M-Master? I-" James' heart was racing, his mind was running wild and he could feel his cock swelling as Emma moved back to it and traced the outline of his shaft with her fingertip. Swallowing hard, he tried to regain his composure and his character. "I don't know who this 'master' is, I'm Santa Clause, silly! But... you said you're only good sometimes? You need to be good all the time to be on the nice list."

"Oh, and what if I was bad?"

Jame's hand shot to her throat in an instant and pulled her in close as his fingers began to grip.

"This," he barked "is what happens to naughty girls." The silly voice had gone, replaced by a deeply threatening growl. A growl she knew all too well. And that she loved. Her heart raced at his words, and at the crushing feeling of his hand on her neck. For a long moment, he held her like that, smiling as he watched her struggle and growing in panic. Finally, he relented, throwing her down to the sofa.

"Oh, is that all? Maybe I wanna be bad then," she teased, wiggling her body back and forth.

Adjusting himself he lay over her, pinning her down with his weight as again he went for her throat, in one movement wrapping his fingers around her neck and pushing her down as he straddled her.

"Maybe you want me to call you a slut and a whore? To hit you all over your gorgeous fucking body?" He asked. "Maybe you want me to choke the fuck out of you? Maybe you wanna hurt?" His other hand slapped her across her cheek, and she let out a surprised squeal.

"Yes" she panted back, "but you'll need to do better than that to hurt me."

She saw the anger flash over his eyes as he heard what she'd said. He drew a slow breath through gritted teeth and tightened his grip. As his eyes narrowed and focused, hers grew wide. Her vision began to blur as he stared her down.

"How's this?" He growled. She tried to reply, her mind full of insults and witty retorts, but the words wouldn't form. "How's this?" He grunted, slapping her hard across the face, making her whimper. "Answer me when you're spoken to!"

The grip around her neck released, and she drew a long wheezing breath, filling her burning lungs with fresh air.

"Do better" she spat, reaching up and pulling the hat and fake beard from his head, throwing them across the room.

"Oh," he said with a grin, "someone's definitely going to be on the naughty list"

"Oh yeah," she nodded back.

"Maybe what you need, is a good fucking. To feel yourself filled up, to feel my cock pounding your pussy. Do you think that's what you need?" Every word increased her heart rate further, each one making her feel hotter, sending sparks through her body.

"Y-yes please" she whimpered, struggling to contain her excitement.

"Oh it's such a shame that naughty girls don't get to cum then" he teased with a smile. "That I'll get to use this perfect body for my own pleasure, and you'll get nothing." He ran his hands down from her neck, over her breasts and around to her waist. His hands made her feel hot through the fabric of her clothes as they traced down and then pulled the jumper up and over her head.

"I'd like to see you stop me," she scowled and slowly his hands moved to her buttons, following the tight fabric and popping each one open. "Because I know you can't fucking resist fucking me. And I know that when you start you'll never want to stop until you empty your big sack of presents for this naughty little girl..."

One at a time the buttons came undone, revealing more of her soft white skin, each one increasing her excitement.

"We'll see about that," he replied, leaning down to kiss her stomach. Each of his kisses sent sparks through her, and she began to open her legs for him, as he moved up her tummy. His lips were driving her crazy as they worked their way up her stomach, towards her chest, and his hands undid her bra.

She moaned softly as his tongue flicked at her nipples. Ran her fingers through his hair as he sucked on them, and tugged gently. Soon the need in her body was growing, and she was whimpering with his every movement.

"Please," she begged, pushing his head down towards her hips, "more."

Not one to disappoint, he moved down her body, sliding his torso between her open legs. Her heart rate climbed as her jeans came undone, revealing her underwear. Slowly he slid them down her long slim legs, dragging his nails over the skin as he did, leaving red lines in their trail and making her tense. The tight denim removed, his lips worked their way, ever so slowly, up her legs. He kissed her calves, inching upwards, and she whimpered when they reached her thighs. Slowly they crept forwards, his hands going ahead and gripping her by the bum, lifting her hips into the air. Every second of it was driving her crazy, and he knew. He knew she was horny, and that being told she couldn't cum only made her want it more. But he was a tease. The more she whimpered and begged for him to fuck her, the slower his lips moved.

"Please, c'mon, this isn't fair," she pleaded. He didn't reply, only bit the skin on the inside of her thigh and listened to her shriek as his teeth left their marks. Finally, he reached the line of her underwear, and then he stopped, and stood up, looking down at her. He couldn't help but admire her body. Long, slim legs, a flat, defined stomach at the centre of a slim waist. And the most perfect breasts he'd ever seen. Yes, she had scars, she had marks of her past struggles, she had imperfections, but every centimetre of her was amazing, every mark and spot and mole only adding to her perfection, like the paint on the canvas of a contemporary masterpiece. And every little bit of her belonged to him.

"What are you doing?" She pleaded, slowly rocking her hips back and forth, "you can't stop now!"

"I'm not stopping," he explained, "but I don't think you've earned anything yet. I wanna hear you beg."

"Please baby!" She begged, staring at him, her face full of lust. "Please James, please sir, fuck me. Fuck your little slut, I want it so bad."

"Oh do you?" He asked, pulling the costume over his head, and throwing it aside.

"Yes!" Her eyes were locked on him, watching him undo every button on his shirt agonisingly slowly. "I'll be a good girl. I want to be on the nice list. Please."

"You think you deserve my cock?" He teased, sliding his shirt off his shoulders, revealing his slim, toned physique.

"Please, yes sir I do," she panted. She couldn't take her eyes off his body. Instinctively she began to play with her own nipples, teasing them between her fingers as she watched him.

"Hands off," he barked, as he saw what she was doing. "Those belong to me. Your whole body belongs to me. YOU belong to me. Did I say you could touch my slut?"

"No, I'm sorry" she sighed, struggling to keep her hands still.

"I think all you deserve, this Christmas is coal" he carried on, slowly unbuckling his belt "Oh, and this." He tugged at the leather and his belt shot through the remaining loops of his trousers, freeing itself with a crack. "No!" She squealed. "Please."

"Roll over." His words sent fear through her whole body. Instinctively making her pull away from him, as fight or flight kicked in.

"No, c'mon, not the belt, please." She begged and begged, but he couldn't be convinced. He simply stood grasping the leather in his hand until she obeyed. Slowly, anxiously she positioned herself on the edge of the furniture, her knees on the floor and her chest resting on the leather sofa. He draped the leather of his belt over her skin, letting her feel it, watching her reaction as it touched different spots.

"Ready?" He asked.

A scared whimper in reply was taken as a yes, and he took aim. Grasping the belt tight he swung, and the leather cracked against skin. Again he swung, and again.

"THIS. Is what happens to bad girls." His voice was booming and imposing. It seemed to totally bypass her brain and go straight to her body. Something about it just... Her focus instantly switched back to the pain in her skin as the belt struck again. She knew he was holding back, that he could hit so much harder, but even his half strength whippings were stinging, sending pain shooting through her skin, the effect amplified by the bruises already present. He could see her beginning to shake, and her whimpers were growing more and more pathetic, the pain was obviously getting to her.

"Had enough?" He growled.

"Y-yes" she breathed, "it hurts."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir!" She corrected herself quickly. Manners, she had to remember manners.

"Good. Do you think you've earned your reward yet?"

"I hope so, I want it so bad," she whimpered, "Please sir. It is Christmas... be generous..."

"Get up," he barked, satisfied that she had taken the beating well enough. Shakily, she got to her feet, turning to look at James. "Bedroom. Now." Sweeping down he picked up the sack he had dropped beside the couch, he followed her closely. Stalking behind her as she walked through the food and into the bedroom, he admired the marks that covered her skin. As she came to a stop and stood by the bed, he again pressed down on her shoulder

"Sit."

Gingerly, she lowered herself onto the bed and looked up at him expectantly.

"Good girl. Are you ready for a present?"

"Yes!"

Emma jumped as the brown sack hit the ground with a clang before James opened it and reached inside.

"And what kind of present do you think you'd like?"

From the sack, he pulled a length of red rope, a vibrator and a crop. With each one, she grew more expected.

"All of those... yes... please!"

And finally, he pulled a delicately decorated leather collar with a matching leash, holding it in the light for her to see.

"Oh my god that's gorgeous! Is it for me?"

"Uh-huh." Leaning in close, he reached up and fastened it around her neck, just tight enough to dig in a little, and then pulled back to see the glowing grin on her face for a moment before she dove on him and pulled him into a long hard kiss with her arms around her neck.

"Thank you, master! I love it so much. I always wanted a collar. I guess this means I really am yours now, huh?"

"Well... you have been a very good girl..."

"I want to be your very good girl."

"Then you will be." He growled, snapping the leash onto the collar and giving it a firm tug and making her squeal as she tumbled onto the carpet. Pinning her there face down, he grabbed the rope with one hand and her arms with the other before skilfully binding them behind her back. She struggled as he stood back to admire his work, but quickly realised she was going nowhere and became subdued.

"Stay," he smirked as he grabbed the crop and admired it in his hand.

Slowly he ran the black leather tip up Emma's legs, watching her struggle and squirm as it moved up and up. Up over her fit thighs, and perfect behind. Up over her bruised and sore back, and tightly bound arms, all the way up to her flushed red cheeks.

"I love this thing," he said with a smile, as he held it there. "It's nimble, it tickles, it stings. And it leaves lovely marks." Drawing back he quickly brought it down onto her bum, sending a hot shock through her body, and making her squeal gently. "Don't you love it too?"

"Yes, master," Emma replied. It hurt so good.

SMACK. "I'm glad you agree." The crop hit a clean spot on her skin and immediately left a red mark. "And the marks look so good on your behind."

"Thank you, master..."

"But it's hard to get a good angle when you're down there. Stand up." Reaching under her arms James pulled her to her feet, before swiftly pushing her back down over the bed.

"Straighten your legs, get your ass in the air" he ordered, and she complied, each second growing needier.

Running his hands over the bare skin he felt the heat radiating from each and every red mark he had left on her. And then they moved back and down, following the lines of her body to arrive between her legs. She couldn't help but whimper as his hands moved over her sensitive areas.

"Oh," James smiled, as he pressed a thumb against her underwear, "I can feel how excited you are already... you must be enjoying this."

"Y-yes sir" Emma whimpered back. Through the thin fabric of the lingerie, his hands were making her flush hot and the slightest pressure drove her crazy. And he knew. Slowly his fingers began to rub up and down, teasing softly against the cotton as Emma whimpered with every movement. She felt a moan in her throat and tried her best to stifle it, gripping at her restraints, holding her breath, but every passing second made it more difficult to hold. And it slipped free. As the desperate, needy little moan escaped her lips, Emma buried her head in the pillows so that her master couldn't see that she had flushed red... If he knew how excited she was, he'd not be able to resist torturing her.

"Oh my," laughed sir, as his voice dripped with the sexiest kind of evil, "you must be excited..." His hand stopped and retreated slightly down her thigh, which only made her whimper more.

"I... yes," she replied shyly, still panting softly into the pillow.

Master's hand drew back from her leg, and spanked her hard, the stinging impact forced a high pitched squeal from Emma's lips as it sent sparks shooting up her spine. Far from dulling her excitement, though, the sharp pain brought everything into focus and made her all the more aware of the wetness between her legs. Again Master swung, striking her on the other cheek this time, and Emma couldn't help but whimper as his hand left a burning red mark on her pert behind.

"Yes, what?" he snarled, as he again grabbed the crop from the bed.

"Yes... sir," Emma corrected herself. "Yes, yes you make me fucking excited. Yes, you make me ache for you. You make me wet. You make me want you. I need you. Is that what you want to hear you sick fuck? Yes, I'm fucking desperate. Are you fucking happy?"

"Sick, huh?" He asked, "You think I'm a sick fuck?"

"Yes," she spat back, "you're sick, and your twisted, You beat me, tease me, use me, torture me. You're an evil little cunt and you fucking know it."

The crop swung, and struck her on the back of her thigh, sending shakes through her muscles.

"Yes," Master barked, "You're right. I am fucking sick." SMACK. The crop slammed into her other thigh, and Emma shook in her restraints as she let out a pained cry. "I am fucking twisted." WHACK. The crop struck her on the bum, making her arch her back as she squealed and moaned. "I am an evil cunt." With every sentence he hit her again, on the thighs or on the bum, marking her and hurting her. Sending pain shooting through her body and with every second of torture he inflicted on Emma her noises grew louder, but also more lustful. The pain focused her mind, and the one thing that she felt more than anything was the burning, aching need between her legs. "And you fucking love it. You love how bad I hurt you. You love that I don't fucking care. You love that I will do anything to you. That I will push you. Punish you. That I will make you fucking mine."