Twat was the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse because I had a few too may glasses of eggnog and passed out on the couch in front of the glowing fireplace, candles lit, naked, hair and make up perfect, waiting for my holiday piece of ass to call and wish me a Merry Christmas. I planned to tell him all about the nasty things I was going to do myself while he was on the road in Winslow, Arizona visiting his family for the holiday and then send him pictures of my debauchery on his cell.
I had even brought out a few of my favorite toys for the occasion. Lube, my glass cock in an ice bucket, the ginormous rubber dildo someone I cared a lot about once upon a time bought and a few lengths of rope.
I was having a nice steamy wet dream about my X-rated Christmas Party for One when...THUD!!
Suddenly, I awoke with a fright!
I sat straight up, my heart raced and I tried to focus my vision. I shook my head trying to make sense of what my eyes were telling my half pickled brain they were seeing.
I saw a big-framed man standing in front of the fireplace dusting himself off, long white beard, in a Santa suit and hat, a black bag in his hands. The spectacles he wore on his eyes barely masked the twinkle in his eye as he caught a glimpse of my thin, long frame laid out, the shocked look on my face and all my toys on the cocktail table.
"Santa?" I asked incredulously.
"HO, HO, HO!" The bearded one bellowed.
No one could possibly get around the security system I had in place in my house.
"You really have been a naughty girl, haven't you?" He chuckled and his belly moved like a bowl full of jelly.
My fuzzy mind quickly recalled the events of the evening, searching for any recollection of getting into my medicine cabinet and mixing meds with my festive cocktails. No such luck.
"This can't be real", I thought to myself. I was an intelligent, professional 40-year-old woman. I know Santa doesn't exist. Does he?
His rosy cheeks lifted to his crinkling eyes as his big wide smile turned almost evil. I think I even saw drool drip out of his ruby red lips onto his beard as he spied my full breasts, my chest heaving as my fear intensified, and my eyes growing wide.
Quickly he moved forward to me. He smelled of cookies, winter and another scent I knew but could not place.
He dropped his bag of goodies at my feet and removed his big black belt from his suit.
"Sit up and put your arms behind your back," Santa commanded in a strong, low voice.
Half out of fear, half out of curiosity I complied.
"Oh," I let out softly as I felt his gloved hand touch me for the first time. Santa skillfully wrapped his belt around my elbows behind my back so they were touching each other and continued wrapping it down my forearms to my wrists binding them tightly.
I could not budge my arms. My shoulders felt like they were being ripped apart and my breasts were jutting out helplessly in front of me. My nipples instantly got hard at the feeling of me being bound. The piercings in them sparkled in the firelight.
Santa took one look at me and smiled before he reached down to his bag and pulled out a pair of ankle cuffs.
"Santa has ankle cuffs? Wow, Mrs. Clause is a lucky woman," I thought to myself.
Slowly and carefully Santa placed the cuffs on my ankles and tied one end of the ropes I had out to the ring on each of them. I hate to admit it, but I was starting to get a little wet at this point. Being tied up and helpless has always immensely turned me on.
He then gave me a little shove forcing me to sit back on the couch. He grabbed my right calf and forced it onto the arm of the couch and tied the other end of the rope to the leg of the couch. He did the same with my left.
I was immobile now. My arms bound tightly behind my back, my legs painfully stretched open and secured in a V to display my wide-open pussy that was hovering just at the edge of the couch cushion, my tits sticking straight out. My nipples tingled and my clit thumped. They so wanted attention from the bearded one.
Almost as if on cue, Santa knelt on the floor between my legs. I let out a gasp as his warm mouth touched my right breast. His tongue swirled around my nipple over and over, flicking my piercing as he did. His soft beard tickled me lightly, contrasting with the pain my leg; arm and shoulder muscles were in.
By the time he moved to my left breast I was panting and my pussy was soaking wet. I needed to be fucked and I needed to be fucked right now.
"Please fuck me Santa," I begged in a whisper.
His gloved hand made it's way to my pleading snatch while he was still devouring my tits. His thumb rubbed my clit in small, soft circles while he traced my glistening fuck hole with his finger. He was driving me crazy with his teasing. I wanted him in me in the worst way. It was basic animal instinct taking over my body. I tried to move my pussy to him to no avail. I was bound to tightly.
He started biting my nipples and flicking them harder with his tongue, picked up speed and pressure on my clit and stuck two of his gloved fingers deep in my tight, wet hole. He vigorously moved his fingers in me in a come here motion that drove me to the edge. A great finger fucking always does it for me.
"Oh, Santa you're going to make me cum," I cried out and dug the back of my head into the couch, as I grew closer to the Promised Land.
I could feel the burst gaining momentum; I was going to cum harder than I had in a long time. I felt the sensation start at my toes and work it's way up my legs as my pussy walls relaxed then tightened up to let loose what was sure to be the mother of all orgasms.
Then it all stopped!
He took his hand out of me; his face off me stood up and took a step back.
I was open mouth breathing and desperate to cum. A million thoughts ran through my head. I couldn't under stand why he stopped when I was obviously enjoying myself so much.
"Did you ask permission to cum little girl?" Santa asked with wickedness.
"No, Santa I did not," I replied sheepishly.
I was familiar with this game. I had once dated a guy for entirely too long that turned me on to it. He was sexy, great looking, smart, a big guy, blue collar, sweet and oh, so much fun. He was everything a girl like me could want. Unfortunately, several other woman thought so too and he encouraged that by dicking them all.
I stuck it out as long as I could before it got too hard to face myself in the mirror in the morning due to the lack of respect given me by the both of us. It was really a shame, we were really good together and he was pretty much my best friend. He could have lived out every fantasy he ever had with me, hell I may have looked the other way at his indiscretions if he had not been so blatant. I never in a million years would have cheated on him or been disloyal in anyway, but I guess I just wasn't enough for him.
My good love could not save him. One morning I ripped my own heart out and broke it off and never let myself look back. He has a lot to learn about being a Southern Gentleman. It is more than being second in line at the buffet; it is about being discreet and protecting a lady from emotional pain and public and private humiliation.
"For even thinking of doing so will bring you punishments," Santa barked.
"Yes, Santa. I understand. I won't even think about it again without permission," I stammered with tears in my eyes. It is not easy getting yelled at by Santa.
He reached into his bag and produced a whip. My eyes grew so large they felt like they were bulging out of my head.
CRACK!
Without warning, the tail of the whip landed squarely on my right nipple with Santa's expertise.
"Uuuunnnnnnggghhh," I cried out as I tried to recoil from the sting.
CRACK! To my left nipple.
"Oooohhhhhh nnnnnnn ooooowwww," I heard myself whimpers as it felt like both of my tits were on fire.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! To both tits, one after the other in quick succession.
"Oooooooowwwwww Fffuuuuuuccckkk," I shrieked as tears started rolling down my face and onto my sore rack now painted with red lines.
I could feel my heartbeat in every line, my tits were throbbing so bad I wanted to hold them and curl into a ball, but I couldn't move. I had no choice but to sit there bound tightly and watch as the whipping continued to the point I thought I might pass out from the adrenaline rush and pain.
Despite the pain that was being inflicted upon me, my denied pussy was getting juicier and juicier. I have always been sick like that. It is not something I can explain. Being uncomfortable and in pain makes me hot. Maybe it is the challenge of withstanding it; maybe it is the challenge of not being in control for a change, maybe it is the reward that always comes at the end. Maybe I am just a pervert too, like Santa.
"Are you going to cum without permission? Are you going to think about cumming without permission?" Santa bellowed.
"No, Sir Master Santa I will not," I replied through my sobs.
