Jinglebells

I'm on my knees. It's a private party and I've been kneeling at his feet for long enough that time has gone a bit soft. The drone of conversation and laughter somewhere above my head comes and goes in snippets. I recognize his voice, and maybe a couple of others, but all I can really see are legs when I turn my head -- some with neatly tailored trousers others with pretty heels or ballet flats. My blindfold is fenestrated, meant to show only pieces, and nothing directly in front of me. The dress that I'm wearing really isn't much of anything. Just some loose silk that keeps slipping, threatening to take the leap from essentially naked to entirely naked. I'm not supposed to be fidgeting, but the straps want to fall from my shoulders and I keep stealing glances this way and that to try to see more of what's happening.

I hear laughter above me and his hand drops to the back of my neck, pulling me back to center and up a little higher on my knees. Abruptly, someone cuts the straps of my dress and it falls in a puddle around me. I look down, clenching my fists to keep my hands from flying to cover myself. An unfamiliar voice whispers in my ear, "Simon says open." I move my hands behind my back and open my mouth, tongue extended. Someone's fingers are in my mouth, exploring. Then someone else's, a third set, or maybe the first. I can't really tell.

Then a cock, resting against my lips for a moment before I feel hands wrap around my head and the cock is thrusting into my mouth, jabbing at my throat and the hands are lifting the back of my head so the cock can slip more easily down. I hear a murmur of approval before other hands are on my ears, pulling me further down as my throat begins to spasm. Too many hands, I can't see, I can't hear, I can't breathe. I am starting to panic when whoever owns the cock backs off just enough. Where has my owner gone? I reach for where he had been, but the space is empty. Again, I'm push-pulled down onto the cock and the stranger is thrusting, thrusting, thrusting then burying himself in my throat and I feel him shudder as he releases. Air returns, my chest is heaving, someone holds a glass of something to my lips. I drink, mostly to rinse out my mouth from the strange taste.

"Open" a woman's voice says, and I obediently swallow and open my mouth again, for whatever is about to happen. "Oh no, that was too easy, Simon didn't say. Now get up." I pause, remembering the rules of the game, and I hear laughter. "Alright, Simon says get your ass up." Hands drag me to my feet, walk me a few steps and bend me over something plush -- a couch back, maybe? Suddenly blows are raining down on my ass and thighs. Clumsy, some too heavy, some too light. Many different people I think. Someone grabs my chin and turns my head. That same voice again, in my ear "Simon says we should punish you if you break the rules." The hits keep coming and I'm squirming, trying to get away from the barrage of inept and arhythmic strikes. "We are going to have fun with you, little slut."

I feel hands on my breasts, massaging my nipples and I lean into them, anything to get away from the spanking. The hits stop coming and it's just the hands on my tits, rolling, squeezing, pinching my nipples. God, it feels so good, and I am lost in the sensation, letting go of the painful afterglow on my ass and thighs. I hear heavy breathing and moaning, and realize the sounds are coming from me just when the first nipple clamp bites down, quickly followed by the other. I'm pulled to my feet and there's hands between my legs, pulling my labia apart and there's more clips.

They hurt, but not nearly as much as the sharp ache nipples. I look down, craning my head to see where a bright gold chain attaches to a nipple, another leading down, probably to my pussy. Then I feel multiple tugs on the chain and the weight increases. Someone jingles something metallic by my head and there's more laughter. "Simon says spread your legs." I move my feet apart, reluctantly, and then I feel something heavy on first the left, then the right clamp on my suddenly much more tender labia. "Now, it's officially a holiday party, folks," a rich voice intones, and more laughter and giggles. "No, no, she needs more color!"

Someone wraps something around my neck, it's prickly and a little tight as they fidget with the tie. I feel a pull, and I try to resist but I'm tugged forward and guided through the room. My shins bump into an immovable object. "Simon says kneel, and crawl forward." I carefully pull myself up onto what feels like a coffee table. Hands on me again, guiding my hands and pushing my knees apart. I'm tinkling as I reposition - whatever is hanging from my chest and pussy is quite musical, and very painful. Fingers on my mouth, trying to pry it open. "Simon says open, slut."

My head is swimming, more than it should be from the endorphins, there was definitely something in that drink. Mouth open, tongue out, and something scratches gently at my face, sparkling in the corners of my eye. I identify sequins and then my mouth is smashed full of pussy as the skirt falls around my head. I'm lost again, it's stuffy in the new complete darkness but even muffled I can hear the bells jingling as someone else casually fingers my cunt. I don't know how the clips are staying on I'm so wet, but they remain firmly embedded as the fingers become more insistent, pushing at the walls of my pussy and grazing my g-spot. I'm chasing the pleasure, pushing back against the fingers lewdly, partially to try to find some way to get more air.

"Don't cum, slut. Simon didn't say." The words barely penetrate the wall of cunt and brain fog, but they are enough to diffuse my orgasm. It is so hard to remember to behave with all of this. Then the skirt and cunt are gone, as quickly as they came, and there's a cock in my mouth again. Familiar, this one, though not his. I recognize the Thomas for way he fits just right and slips into my throat so easily, not quite fully hard. A thoughtful gesture on his part because he knows that I do better when I can work up to it. He is very good at fucking my face. I'm grateful for the attention to my breathing as he shoves his cock deeper and deeper with each pass. The fingers leave my pussy and something much larger pushes against me. Whoever owns that cock slaps it against my clit, over and over, ringing the bell-weights and pushing me right the brink of orgasm before impaling me.

Then I'm see-sawing between the two cocks. Thomas' holding my head and someone else's hands on my hips. The chains and whatever hangs from them pull at my nipples. I feel the garland pull tight, and back, cinching on my throat as the gathered crowd breaks into the chorus of Jingle Bells. I hadn't even noticed them singing, but I know I'm blushing now. The pleasure is overwhelming; the cock in my cunt filling me to the point of bursting. I know I will - if he pulls out. For the moment the pressure of his cock keeps the tidal wave inside me contained, which can't be said for the drool I feel running down my chin and likely pooling on the table. Just as I can't take it anymore, Thomas flicks the blindfold off and turns my head to where I can see myself in the mirror. I'm flushed, and glistening with sweat. One cock in my mouth and another in my cunt. Hanging from me are an assortment of sparkling Christmas ornaments and bells, swinging and jingling with the motion of our fucking. I glance from Thomas to meet my owner's eyes. With one hand still pulling the garland tight, he bends over me and purrs. "Simon says cum, pet, now."

I let the orgasm overtake me. Wave upon wave of pleasure rolls through my body. Muscles I didn't realize I had been holding squeeze tighter as Thomas groans and grows taught, erupting in my mouth. I overflow. Liquid pours from around the cock in my pussy as that one too jerks and spills. I watch the girl in the mirror shimmer as she cums to the finale of the song. Everything glitters. The lights get very bright and all the people very shiny. Then everything goes dark and I go into the deeps.

I come back cuddled between Thomas and him on the couch. I'm still pleasantly swimmy and someone has kindly removed most of the holiday decorations, but left the garland in a crimson bow around my neck. "Merry Christmas, baby," he says. "Merry Christmas, Simon."