Page 5 of Christmas Desires

I shivered. “No, I’m a good girl.”

His hand ghosted over my pussy, and I arched into his touch.

“According to my list, you haven’t been a nice girl this year. In fact, this top” – he stroked a finger across my nipple – “proves you’re naughty. It tells me you have been having dirty thoughts about Santa. You want to distract him from his deliveries.”

“What will you do?” I blinked at him, watching his expression above his fake white beard.

“Naughty girls get the cane.”

“A candy cane?” I fidgeted.

He chuckled and yanked the covers off me, and cool air rushed across my nipples.

“Only good girls get acandycane. Bad girls just get the cane.”

I pouted, leaning into my childish side, and he chuckled.

“Up.”

I stumbled to my feet. The padded suit made him appear larger than before, and excitement zipped through me when I spotted the black leather gloves that disappeared under his fur-lined sleeves. He had a sack slung over his shoulder, and I watched, mesmerised, as he extracted a red leather collar and set of cuffs from it. I shuddered as he clipped it around my neck.

“Wrists.”

I held my hands out, and he secured the red leather to my wrists. The inside was soft, but when he clipped them to the collar, it meant I had very little range of movement for my hands. The knife edge of fear created by being bound heightened my state.

Gently, he led me with the chain over to Simon, who watched us coming with a predatory glint in his eyes.

“Lie over his lap, naughty girl.”

“Are you Santa’s little helper?” I asked, my sass rising the closer I drew to Simon.

Simon’s eyebrows raised at my cheekiness, and he chuckled throatily. “Oh, I’m Santa’s helper all right, but I’m not little, and I’ll be helping fill that bratty little mouth.” He patted his lap. “Over.”

Unsteadily, as I couldn’t use my hands, I laid over his firm thighs, too excited to sass him any further. There was rustling, and the rough material of Gene’s Santa suit brushed the back of my legs. Simon hooked a thumb in the waistband of my shorts and yanked them down.

My pussy clenched as I imagined the image of me laid across his lap, my arse exposed as Gene playing Santa stood behind me. It was debauched, and I was totally here for it.

A gloved hand skimmed over my cheeks, the fur lining his cuffs whispered over my overheated skin.

“Colour?” Gene growled.

“So fucking green,” I panted, and a silent rumble of laughter passed through Simon beneath me.

“She doesn’t sound sorry for being a bad girl,” Simon mused.

“She will be.” Gene’s voice held a menacing edge. “She needs warming up for the cane.”

His gloved hand smacked down on my buttock. The stinging pain made me gasp and jerk.

“Count.” Simon’s arm pinned me firmly across his thighs.

“One.”

“One what?” Gene asked.

“One, Santa.”

Blows cracked across my cheeks, some harder, some softer. The pain, acute at first, morphed into pleasure. My pussy dripped with moisture, and the tops of my thighs slid together as I panted.

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