6
The Present
My eyes spring open, my cold body is now warm and cozy sitting bound on my couch. The pain in my jaw reminds me that I’m still gagged and restrained. Neno pours himself a drink and chugs it down like water before letting the glass slip from his hand.
“So smooth,” he says as he wipes a trail of bourbon from his lips. “Oh, Devon, it’s nice of you to join me.”
I try to speak, but more spit spills from the corner of my lips. He tsks, shaking his head in disapproval. “Look at you. The Toy King reduced to nothing but a broken fucking toy.”
Tick!
Tock!
TICK!
TOCK!
The grandfather clock begins to tick. Slowly and then louder, each swing of the pendulum strikes a blow to my skull. The sound is bouncing off my brain and sinking into my bones. Nenoclaps menacingly and giddily like a child when the grandfather chimes at the hour mark.
“It’s time for your second gift,” Neno taunts, pulling a box from behind him. This time, he doesn’t shake it, just inches it closer for me to inspect and taps it once.
The present inks itself in.
Every window in the cabin fills with a different room that belongs to me. Upper left, warehouse A. The fluorescent light turns your skin yellow, and my workers tape up boxes with hands that look cracked and raw. A woman counts the shipment as she talks to a child who cries for her, asking her if she will make it back in time for Santa.
In the lower left, a driver is rubbing his hands together inside the delivery truck that is filmed over with ice. His knuckles white and cracked from the lack of heat as he shivers inside the space. In the upper right is my downtown office that sits empty, a perfect diorama, my chair perfectly settled beneath my desk. While the lower right shows Emily as she cries into her hands, watching a live feed.
“Turn it off,” I say when I realize my lips are no longer wide or stretched. “They chose the shifts, and they are getting paid.” I raised two fingers into the air. “Double time.”
Neno’s lips curl into a disgusted snarl, pointing at the window panels. “No, they chose to pay rent. To pay for medicine. They chose to do the math you never had to.” Stepping closer to the glass, he watches as his breath clouds it.
“I work harder than any of them,” I say, hating myself as I do. Yet this is the truth, is it not?
“No,” he says with a gentleness that feels worse than scorn. “But you will tonight.” With a snap of his fingers, the room spins, the ground splitting me open and swallowing us, putting us back at the cabin.
My mouth is once again wide open, “Baby, it’s cold outside,” hums quietly on the radio—the cheesiest song in the world playing for the cruelest night of my life. Neno dances in front of me, his bells jingling with each movement. Suddenly, he stops, his hand snaking down his chest and stopping right above his groin. A wicked grin appears on his chiseled and delicate features; the beauty mark sitting above his cupid bow stretches beautifully.
“It’s time to work, Little Scrooge, ready for the choo choo?” My eyes roll to the back of my head, I’m sure. I’ve forgotten his nature, but this isn’t his normal self. No, there's menace and hunger hiding beneath his green orbs. Realizing now why my mouth hung wide, I shake my head, trying to stop the inevitable, all while my body hums with anticipation.
Craving to be defiled. To be used.
The air changes, it feels charged as if the storm outside has crept into the room, dragging its static between us.Fuck me. Neno’s laughter fades into a soft hum that thrums through my chest until it syncs with my heartbeat.
He kneels in front of me, close enough that I can smell the pines and cologne on him, and feel the chill of his breath against my skin. The jingle of his sleeves punctuates every movement as his hand snakes around my throat. “Still think you’re in charge, Toy King?”
I shake my head, giving him what he wants just to get this done with, but he just clicks his tongue at the roof of his mouth. His nails dig into my flesh as he tightens his grip around my throat, causing black corners at the edge of my vision. My body tries to fight back the urge to rebel… but eventually, the damn traitorous flesh betrays me. My pulse climbs as my vision fades in and out. My lungs seize, begging for air.
“This,” he says, his voice dropping lower, “is what you built your empire on. Taking. Using. Watching others kneel.”
The heat in the room thickens, spreading like smoke. Shame and desire blend together in my own Christmas cocktail of need. I try to look away, to give in to the darkness begging to drag me under, but his grip loosens. My nose flares, inhaling a desperate breath, filling my lungs as he rises to his feet, and my eyes come in contact with the bulge in his pants. The velvet red pants taunt with the imprint of his thick girth.
‘Tonight, you will be the one kneeling.” And just like that, his cock springs free from his pants. Now pierced, silver barbells align his veiny undershaft, and at the tip, a tiny silver hoop glistens with his arousal. I gulp. It’s always been me taking and him receiving, but before I can do anything, he thrusts into my mouth with one brutal move.
The fire snaps, and the room flickers with his deep chuckles. “I’ll show you what happens when you are naughty,” he groans as he holds my head in place. The thick crown of his cock hits the back of my throat before forcing its way down my esophagus. My lungs once again seize, and bile climbs up my throat as heat pools deep in my stomach, blood rushing towards the most traitorous part of me.
My fucking cock.
Placing his leather boots between my legs, he rubs the part that aches the most. You would think it’s my heart, but no, it’s my dick that greedily rubs against the firmness of his boot. I rock my hips, degrading myself. A groan escapes my mouth as I try to breathe, but he presses his hands into the back of my head. Holding me, until my nails dig into my flesh, trying to fight the urge to pass out.
