Fuckkkkkkk…
My toes curl from the contact, anticipation has my pulse quickening, and my balls tightening. That’s when I notice the blinking red dot in the corner of the room. Neno follows my gaze. “Ahh, don’t worry about that. It’s just to keep eye on the product. Welcome to your own assembly line, Devon.”
“Assembly line?” I ask, trying to thrash against the restraints. The wind howls outside, and branches scratch against the windows. “First step, restrain the product,” he mutters while tugging at the red ribbons, making sure they are all secured around my limbs.
My heart sinks to my stomach as he circles me. The predator is now the prey. Hunted by the ghost of his past, I close my eyes briefly, willing my body to wake. But it’s heavy, the weight of all that keeps me in this nightmare. Keeps me firmly planted in this moment, and viciously aware of his proximity. Neno hums cheerfully as he walks towards the kitchen, and panic surges through me as I hear the commotion. The rustling of the silverware, the flicker of a lighter, the opening of the fridge, and those damn bells that toll—the only difference now is that it merges with the sound of the pendulum that swings ever so slowly. The lighter clicks again—sharp and familiar. My heartbeat skips out of the rhythm that matches the strikes of the clock.
DING!
TICK!
DING!
TOCK!
“What are you doing?”
The sound of the clock reminds me of the love I used to feel for my office, however, now it feels like a countdown to my slaughter. My question earns me another deep ‘ho,ho,ho.’ I fucking hate this game. I fucking hate the holidays, and I fucking hate him. I recite the lies in my head until it’s a reality I can’tescape, only for the truth to regurgitate into my soul. A cold laugh rattles through my teeth, almost a half choke and a half please. My throat burns with shame as warmth gathers in the most hollow parts of me.
I fucking love this game. I fucking love the holidays, and I fucking love him. The words twist and turn until they are nothing but mindless thoughts swimming in the spiral of my darkest descent. My body betrays me, a shiver climbs up my spine even as shame tries to claw it back down.
Neno walks back towards me, a cup of ice in one hand, a lit candle in the other, but what catches my attention and has my breath hitching is the silver glint of the knife tucked beneath his Santa belt.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, squirming, trying to get free from my restraints. Neno looks at the contents in his hands, “Testing durability. The second step, and I hope to hear you scream, Devon.”
“I can pay you!” I choke out, squirming as he places the objects between my legs. He shakes his head. “No, I want something money can’t buy,” he replies.
“What is that, Neno?”
He quirks a brow, swirling his finger around the cup with ice, contemplating his answer.
“Your screams.” He pulls out a piece and places it on my calf, dragging it up my muscular legs. The ice begins to melt from the heat of my skin as he works his way up before he stops right on my hip.
Confusion clouds my mind. Screams? That’s the last thing he would get. If anything, moans sound more appropriate as pleasure grips me. Holding me there as he drags the ice over my length and then quickly replaces it with his warm, wet mouth. I hiss from the contact, my back arching off the wooden surface as he swirls his tongue in unison with the ice.
Ice and fire.
“Fuc—” I bite down on my lip, not giving him any kind of satisfaction, no matter how good it feels. His teeth clamp down hard on the tip as his tongue flicks between my slit. The pressure and pain from the contact have my eyes open wide, holding back a pained scream that escapes when his teeth gnash together and grind over my skin.
“FUCKK!!” I shout.
My scream earns me a deep swallow, hitting the back of his throat. The feeling is quickly replaced by the painful scrape of his teeth when he comes back, the pointy things scratch the side of my cock just as his fingers snake up my abs and towards my chest. Pinching my nipples, as his cheeks hollow, his spit pools at my base as he sucks me.
His tongue swirling and twirling, dancing in unison with his fingers, eliciting soft moans from my lips. The sound must have irritated him, as I feel a sharp sting. No, a slice. My eyes flutter shut from pleasure mixed with pain.
He pulls me towards the precipice of pain only to drag me back into the sweet, delicious pleasure. Just when heat gathers in my center, another pain slices through my hip, and I scream.
My eyes open wide—only to see him licking the length of the knife, his tongue slicing with the contact, crimson on his mouth. Then he spits it onto his fingers and places his bloody saliva around my puckered hole.
“I don’t—” My words were silenced by the pressure of his fingers digging into my ass. “The third step, fill with holiday cheer.”
With that, he jumps on the table, and only then do I realize his erect cock is poking out of the Santa costume. Then he slams into me. The intrusion is brutal, the burn from the lack of stretching knocks the air from my lungs. All I can feel is him and the painfrom the friction as he buries himself to the hilt with a breathy, ‘ho,ho,ho.’
My eyes cross, and I see stars dance in my vision. It’s a painful but welcome burn as his hips slap against my ass as he fucks with no restraint. A gust of wind howls outside, slamming into the front door.
SLAM !
SLAM !
