Page 20 of Subbing For Santa

Why is he being so mean to me?

And is he being mean, or am I just being precious?

Why the hell am I being so damn precious lately?

Fucking Christmas!

I huff and bite back my unshed tears before heading into another store. As I walk, my shoulders roll back, and I stand taller as anger rises inside me. I’m angry at myself, and I’m angry at my arsehole Santa for denying me a release.

As I move about the stores, the vibrations get stronger, and the brat in me kicks in, letting my defiance take over as I pick up a random article of clothing and head to the fitting rooms.

I ignore the shop assistant, beelining for the furthest fitting room, and lock myself in.

Hanging the top on the hook, I ignore it completely and glare at my reflection in the mirror, knowing if Santa is watching, he’ll be able to see my face right now through the choker cam.

Then I flip the mirror off.

Bad move, but I was expecting retaliation, so I’m not surprised when the vibrations inside me increase tenfold.

I buckle forward, bracing my hand on the mirror as I hold in a moan, my lips sealing shut in the hopes it will help.

“Fuck you, Santa.” I whisper, making sure my lips can be read in the mirror, and then I press my hand between my legs, leaning against the back wall of the cubicle so he can watch me pleasure myself.

When the phone starts ringing, I debate whether to let it ring out, but I’m weak, desperate, and my need to please this stranger controls me.

So I answer the call.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” he hisses.

“No,” I pant, glaring at my own reflection.

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because I need to come,” I pant quietly, again.

“No! You don’t come until I allow you to.” He snarls low, “Remove your hand and leave the store. Go across the street to the State Library and go inside. Find the La Trobe Reading room and the dome viewing balconies. Stand on one of the balconies that is quiet and watch the people below. Wait there for further instructions.”

What the hell is he doing?

He hangs up before I can agree to anything, and in frustration, I bare my teeth at the mirror in a hiss that he can probably see but not hear.

I could probably ignore him and get myself off already, but I’m a sucker for his games.

I hurry out of Melbourne Central, making my way to the State Library, barging past people on the street, my mind only focused on one thing. Pleasing Santa.

Inside the State Library, I take a map, studying it for a moment, before going in search of the viewing balconies. It’s an impressive dome-shaped room with six levels of viewing balconies. I make my way to the top where it’s quieter, and find a vacant balcony. And then I wait.

As I stand there looking over the railing down at the reading room below, the pulsing toy inside me increases again, and my hands curl around the railing as I bite back a moan.

Then a warm body presses against my back.

I stiffen, readying myself to turn around, but firm hands gripping both of my shoulders keep me in place.

“Stay right there, little elf.”

Shit.

It’s him.

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