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“The taste, of course, is delectable - unlike a certain Master Ricar’s last attempt at a love potion, ha! But the real magic lies in the effect: three sips, and the drinker is overcome with arousal. Six sips, and the drinker will orgasm spontaneously.”
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The pleasure seemed to radiate from her clitoris, her flesh singing with ecstasy. By the time it passed she was breathless and dizzied, and the room spun as she opened her eyes.
She stuffed her face into the couch cushions, unable to hold back her scream as the next orgasm seized her. It felt so good, so utterly overwhelming.
She couldn’t cast the fantasy from her head: Master Jareth scolding her, calling her a very bad girl, and taking her over his knee to spank her, his hand making her bottom burn with every loud slap of his palm.
She shouldn’t have been thinking such things of Krampus, she knew she shouldn’t! He was meant to terrify and subdue her, not fill her with lust and masochistic desire!
“Perhaps once your bottom is thoroughly reddened, I’ll give you a stretching for good measure.”
She didn’t want the wrath of his paddle or flogger again, but she was certain that if she was fucked half so hard on a regular basis, she would be a very good girl indeed.
She’d pushed all his buttons, taunted him, lied, stolen - always expecting a consequence, but never getting one. She’d wanted his guidance; she’d wanted him to punish her.
