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January 5 - January 6, 2025
Late-stage capitalism had reached Christmastown at last.
Once thriving toy factories were now fulfillment centers where hundreds of tractor-trailers were emptied every week, cheap electronics and soft goods shipped overseas and stored in the warehouses, sorted by unskilled, poorly compensated elves armed with scanners and untenable hourly pick goals.
He’d watched a yeti getting a blowjob beside the cab of his eighteen-wheeler only a week earlier, recognizing the scrunched, fur-colored face as being a former line cook at the diner across the parking lot from the Workshop.
The holiday was different this year. People’s hearts were heavy, and their celebrations were small. Families were separated, and as a result, the Christmas wishes made were not rooted in vengeance and retribution, leading to his own unfortunate reversal of fortune and no promise things would improve next year.
Santa’s Workshop’s ground floor was your run-of-the-mill titty joint, populated with elves and other seasonal cast-offs from the Santa machine.
The din of high-pitched, inebriated laughter told him it was ladies’ night, and sure enough, a swift glance into the club’s main room showed him one of the reindeer handlers pinwheeling his fat little cock in the faces of a cluster of shrieking suburbanites, his pulled aside g-string stuffed with bills.
he’d never met a workshop elf who couldn’t suck the chrome off a car bumper with ease, but they rarely got the chance to demonstrate their skills upstairs unless it was on each other.
Belsnickel was seated upon the throne when he entered the red-painted room at last. Cackling madly, his hands digging into the fleshy thighs of the screaming young man he thrust into, the lesser Christmas boogeyman took no notice of the dark shape now hovering over him.
He chuckled when the girl dropped to her knees, crawling forward until she was able to place her hands on the coarse, black fur covering his splayed-open legs, raising slowly to press her lips reverently to the seam of his sac. The heavy testicles rose slightly at the girl’s touch, and he grunted.
When the girl’s lips began to travel upwards along his fur-covered sheath, a sharp pull of her hair directed her back downwards.
He kept a hand in her hair to better direct her as the girl sucked and licked his bollocks, giving her attention to one, then the other. His cock made its entrance under her ministrations — sliding from its sheath bright red and glistening, jealous at the attention lavished upon its southernmost neighbors,
“Suck.” No further direction proved necessary as the girl leaned forward, her desperate mouth swallowing his cockhead.
The girl brought a hand up to massage his balls as she sucked, which did please him, and he grunted again.
Thrusting upwards, he groaned, finally finding the proper amount of stimulation as her stuffed-full throat sucked and quivered around his cock. He could quite happily fuck her this way for hours—off his feet, expending the bare minimum of effort, enjoying her gagging convulsions until he spilled himself into her throat, filling her with fire again and again.
“I thought you wanted to be punished?” He laughed as her arms flailed, attempting to push off his legs, an action that only increased the speed of his thrusts, chasing his approaching climax.
The first spill of the day was always the most pleasurable, the longest and hottest, his biggest load and the quickest to reach, and his heavy balls were already beginning to contract, eager to empty themselves.
He groaned in pleasure at the first pump of his release, his cock convulsing rhythmically in the girl’s throat, filling her with ropes of his fire as she attempted to scream.
Her throat fluttered with her choked scream, stimulating his cock further as it erupted, and Krampus sighed happily, hoping the other supplicants in line were watching, were prepared to kneel before him and worship his cock in the same fashion, preventing him from needing to get up.
She’d felt the bite of those branches against the curve of her ass and the sting of its broad palm against her thighs, the press of its knuckles into the hot cleft of her sex before the spanking had continued.
She’d watched Juliette be used over and over again, had screamed when it was her turn, eyes streaming as she was rutted from behind by the creature . . . she didn’t know when the pain had turned to pleasure, couldn’t account for the way her muscles clenched around the monster’s cock as she came again and again,
Not a week went by when she didn’t dream about the bite of branches against her skin, of being spanked until she was unable to stand, and fucked until her legs were numb, citrus and spice and something a touch smokey clouding her senses.
The air was forced from her lungs as one of those sharp claws dragged up the back of her knit dress with a shink! as she exposed it to him, the material parting like tissue paper. Dara shivered as his knuckle moved down her spine, slicing through the back of her bra with ease, the scrap of her panties doing the same.
The tongue dropped further, unspooling from his mouth in an endless coil to slip between their bodies, wriggling between her legs to slide in her slickness.
“Sweet as cherries,” he murmured, setting to work.
The constant pressure against her clit had her shaking against him, completely overwhelmed by sensation, and he growled in pleasure as if he were enjoying the task as much as she was enjoying his efforts.
She didn’t have a chance to react when she was abruptly lifted; never even saw the long spear of the beast’s cock before it breached her, hot and too thick and burning like fire.
That night she’d been taken roughly, punished alongside Juliette. This was a slow opening, a deep stretch that made her ache in a way she would be able to feel for days.
Black, leathery hands gripped her hips again, raising her, lifting her completely off his lap before dropping her, her own weight forcing him in to the hilt, and then she did scream.
This was what she wanted. Blazing red pain edged with intolerable pleasure, like nothing she’d ever experienced outside of that Christmas Eve night.
She continued to moan and gasp as the beast fucked up into her with his burning cock, his vulgar tongue teasing at her clit, his hands slamming her down fully on every pained thrust.
“Is this what you came for, sweetling? Have you found what you’re looking for?” She had fallen forward against him when he spanked her, and his mocking question was a hiss in her ear, dragging her off his cock and dropping her unceremoniously to the floor before she could form an answer.
Dara barely had time to draw a full breath before her mouth was filled, huge hands gripping her head tightly as he used her throat for his pleasure, thrusting his cock into her mouth until he came with a grunt. She was reminded of the red hot cinnamon candies she’d been fond of as a child if those same candies had been set on fire.
“A private arrangement. I-I have a condo, and I live all alone, it’s paid for, and I have a good job. You wouldn’t need to work here, not-not unless you wanted to . . . surely I have something you want. Couldn’t we . . . couldn’t we work out a trade?”
He’d never fancied himself as a house mouse, a kept pet, which is absolutely what he’d be, and there might be other complications that would arise, true enough
His cock swelled again at the thought of such creature comforts he might enjoy, grunting in satisfaction when her small hands gripped it where it rose between their bodies, stroking him steadily.
He would not grow gentle, would not become some simpering, coddling human pet, would not . . . he brought a hand down on her ass as if to punctuate his thoughts, gratified by the way her breath caught.
Her shredded dress lay in a crumpled heap at the base of the throne, and she was bare as she bounced on his cock, tits jiggling.
He encouraged her to roll her hips against him, setting her own pace as she rode his cock, her thighs trembling, stretched wide. For once, Krampus hoped there were no onlookers as he fucked the girl, keeping his tongue circling her steadily as she whimpered and mewled, and when she came again, clenching around his cock with a breathy cry, his mind was made up.
When life gives you lemons, tuck ’em into your bra and keep smiling.
“I’m here for the child,” the beast repeated. “The Tyler child.” For a long moment, Aubrey gaped. Tyler? Tyler, and not Jacob? Tyler was her son’s stepbrother, the miniature bully she disliked.
“Tricks will not keep me from what I seek on this night.”
“It’s barely eight in the morning, so you’re a bit early for the ‘this night’ crap, and if you’re going to mansplain to me about who lives in my house, you can just get the fuck out now. He doesn’t live here. That’s my ex’s stepson. Why would he live with me?!”
The beast paused, considering her for a measured moment before reaching into the grey furs and withdrawing a . . . mobile device?
“Children who do misdeeds together are punished together. Go ahead and make your call, sweetling. It will make no matter.”
“What–what can I do to change your mind?” “There’s nothing you can do to stop the punishment that will be—” “Punish me instead.”
There were many reasons why people joined the scene — for her, it was the release. The release from obligation and expectation, the freedom that came with absolute submission, and the pleasure the lack of needing to care about every little thing under the sun allowed her to feel.
She’d been spanked this hard once before by a stranger in a leather harness who’d made her suck his cock as he reddened her ass, and when he’d fucked her against the leather bench after letting the flogger drop, she’d come so hard she’d nearly passed out.
She tried to imagine the monster moving to stand before her, forcing his cock down her throat as he whipped her, if he even had a cock.
She knew from experience that the lips of her sex would be on prominent display in such a position, that the strap might catch her on her most sensitive anatomy. Surely if the beast could not smell her arousal, he’d be able to see it glistening on her lips, her cunt betraying her with its neediness.

