Bastion offered me a safe space—or at least what I knew deep down was a safe space, aside from all the bars and the terrifying demon looming over me—to let go of my inhibitions. To let go of control and just enjoy the moment of feeling owned. I could enjoy the faux fear, knowing true fear would never touch me again.
Anyone else would have probably told me to seek therapy. Bastion on the other hand, whether he was helping me feed my abuser’s mangled corpse to the pigs or throwing me in a cage on Christmas morning to “punish” me, was my therapy.
The demon prowled toward my cage and threw what he’d been holding inside. It clanked against the packed dirt in front of me, rolling to a stop a few inches away. I stared at where it landed in front of me, uncertainty bubbling in my chest.
It was an empty eggnog bottle.
What was I supposed to do with this?
Sensing the question perched on my lips, the monster leaned forward, pressing his grey face against the cage bars. His tongue wound around one of the bars, cackling. “You’re going to fuck it for me, little beast.”
For a moment my brain stalled out. He wanted me to…fuck the bottle?
Tentatively picked it up, I examined it. The cap was missing and the liquid was pretty much gone—thanks to the little party I’d thrown myself last night. Only a few drops remained.
Jesus Christ.
Okay so fucking a bottle seemed vanilla compared to the prospect of fucking what was literally the Krampus, but it wasn’t just the act of inserting something that wasn’t meant to be put in such places that had my nerves lighting up like a Christmas tree.
It was the thought of doing it locked in a cage while the demon watched.
“Do what I tell you, Clara,” the beast rumbled. He held out his claw-tipped hand and out of thin air, a switch appeared. He smacked it against the cage bars, making me jump. “You’ll find I don’t need to have my cave well-stocked with anything but you and me because I can make anything I want with magic…”
His switch disappeared and in its place was a heavy chain, the links jingling in a way that was deliciously terrifying. “All I need is your naked body, little beast. Everything else is just a matter of being creative.”
With a savage claw, he pointed to the bottle in my hand. “Now fuck the bottle, Clara. I won’t tell you again.”
Chapter Fourteen
Clara
The bottle was so huge, I struggled to get a proper hold on it. I had to hold it with both hands. The Krampus cackled, his glowing ice-white eyes flickering as he lounged against my cage bars, enjoying the show.
“How are you going to take the Krampus’ cock if you can’t even take that bottle? Be the naughty slut you are and show me how well you can hold your eggnog, little beast.”
Oh god, his words were like gas on a flame.
I pushed as much of the bottle’s neck inside my pussy as I could while gripping the bottle's base so hard my fingers shook.
“There we go, that’s more like it.” He licked his lips, his impossibly long tongue oozing with so much fucking saliva it seemed impossible that a single creature could produce that much fluid.
Probably sensing just how much I loved that tongue and all the spit it produced, his tongue slithered through the bars and wiggled above me, fat drops of saliva dropping to pepper my tits. The monsterly fluid coated my flesh, making me glisten beneath the cave’s lighting.
I was feeling every bit like the naughty girl I was, writhing in a cage, fucking myself with the bottle of egg nog I’d polished off the night before.
“You love being my pet, don’t you?” the Krampus mused, his deep voice grating over my skin, making my nipples pebble so hard they ached. “My wild little beast that I get to take out of her cage and fill and fuck and torture whenever I please. That’s what you want, someone you trust to take control. All you want is a moment in time where you can be a monster’s plaything, and not have to worry about anything else.”
He was right. It felt so…freeing.
It didn’t take long for me to come around the bottle. My head fell back, my blonde hair tickling my shoulder blades as stars danced over my view of the cave’s ceiling. The Krampus snickered, praising me for putting on such a delicious show.
I was snatched from the bliss when his gravelly voice returned to its harder cadence, demanding I drink the remaining fluids in the bottle.
“What?” I squeaked.
“You heard me,” he growled. “You drank most of that bottle last night. Finish what you start, human. Drink.”
I pulled the bottle out of me, an embarrassing wet noise filling the cave—the echo making it even more humiliating—as the seal broke between the glass and my pussy lips. There was a small mouthful of milky white fluid at the bottom of the bottle.
