Page 25 of Subbing For Santa

“You look positively delicious.” His deep rasp startles me, making me jump, and he chuckles as my senses pick up that he’s right in front of me. “Hold your hand out.”

I do as he asks, holding out my hand and his fingers clasp it as he presses something squishy into my palm.

“Put them in your ears. Tonight’s game is Sensory Deprivation.”

My breath hitches with excitement, and I suck my lips in, trying to stop my expression from showing. I don’t know why, but I don’t want him to know how excited he’s making me. I don’t want to seem too willing. Too submissive. Too desperate.

As I close my palm, I squeeze the objects in it and realise they are earplugs.

I’ve done something similar before, but at the time, I already knew who I was doing it with. Nervous butterflies flutter in my tummy as I’m reminded that I don’t even know who this man is. He’s now inside my house, in my bedroom, and he wants to take my senses away from me.

I get that this could be dangerous. I won’t be able to see him, or anything he uses. I won’t be able to hear his approach or the sounds of things that might give me clues as to what he’s going to do.

Still, the excited, curious cat in me inserts the earplugs.

He takes my hands, kissing them one at a time, then pulls me off the bed to stand. He lifts me in his arms and carries me and I inhale his spicy scent, which helps me to relax.

I have no idea where he is carrying me, but a moment later, the soft mattress of my bed is under my back, and he positions me the way he wants me on my bed.

I fear he might be able to hear my heart beating like a drum in my chest, but all worries of that are forgotten when he takes my arm and secures something around my wrist before doing the same to my other wrist. Once done, I feel the press of his lips against my forehead before my arms are quickly tugged taut, removing my ability to touch him.

My breath hitches in surprise, and I chew my bottom lip as my breathing deepens, a little fear seeping in as I feel him doing the same thing to each of my ankles. In the end, I’m left completely bound to my bed like a starfish, unable to see or hear, completely at his mercy. My only senses left are smell and taste.

The mattress dips on each side of my chest before I feel his warm breath hover over my lips. I wish I could see him right now. Look into his eyes, whatever colour they may be, but all I’m met with is darkness.

Something brushes over my lower lip. His thumb maybe. He parts my lips with it and then the unmistakable press of his lips is finally on mine.

My heart skyrockets as Santa kisses me for the very first time. I moan. I can feel it vibrate in my chest as he deepens the kiss and I give myself completely to this stranger. Our tongues meet and dance, getting familiar with each other, while his lips, which are softer than I imagined, meet mine in fevered urgency.

Before too long, he breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down the column of my neck before paying attention to my pebbled nipples. The heat of his mouth over my straining buds is intoxicating. I want my hands free so I can hold him there, but there’s no need. He’s in no hurry, taking his sweet time, getting to know them intimately.

I can’t tell what noises I’m making, but Icantell I’m making some. I’m pretty sure they get louder as he travels down between my legs, and I feel his fingers glide over my seam before parting my lips wide and gliding the hot silk of his tongue up my centre.

I think I call out ‘Santa’, but for all I know, it could be a low groan. Either way, it doesn’t matter, and I don’t care if I sound ridiculous. Right now, he is everything, and I know that if he is a murderer, I’d happily die at his mercy.

His fingers join the party between my legs, sinking in to give me a good stretch. It’s intoxicating to have him buried between my legs like this, my eyes and ears not able to join in, but my sense of feel is blooming like wildfire.

I know I’m not going to last much longer, so I give myself over to the pleasure, revelling in the feel of him touching me, eating me, and filling me with his digits.

The stretch is divine, and fuck, this man knows how to stimulate, sending me crashing over the edge before I even realise it’s about to happen. My inner walls clamp and pulse around his fingers, and I can’t tell if I squirt or not, maybe a little given the rush of heat between my legs, but his tongue doesn’t let up, lashing at my nub over and over until a second wave hits, and I’m pretty sure I scream.

Slowly, he eases me down from my high. His fingers slipping free, and his tongue no longer lashing, but slowly lapping to clean me up.

I can feel beads of sweat over my skin, the air cooling me as he moves from between my legs and off the bed.

I instantly miss his presence, wondering what he’s doing right now. Hell, he could have walked out and left me here, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

“Santa?” I call, I think, still not able to hear a damn thing as I wait for some sort of sign that he’s still here.

A hand touches my foot then, slowly travelling up my leg as I feel his weight climb on the bed, between my legs.

Is he going to fuck me now? Oh man, I really want him to fuck me now. I want his cock inside me, filling me, but I also wish I could see and hear him, too. I desperately want to see if I affect him the way he does me.

The familiar nudge of a dick between my legs tells me that this is it, and a moment later his thick girth eases inside me. My back arches as he fills me to the max, his arm coming around my back, holding me there as he starts to thrust.

“Yes.” I think I cry out before his warm lips claim mine.

Something you don’t get at most sex parties is kissing. It’s a thing a lot of people have a rule about. Kissing being too personal and stuff, and I’m reminded why now.

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