He snapped his fingers in aggravation, his tail swishing irritably.They always want to be on the list, so they think . . .
“Is that so, sweetling? Christmas is very far away, do you think you can wait that long to feel Krampus’s strike?” The answer she gave shocked him. It was so rare that he was surprised by anything anymore, but the audaciousness of this little creampuff left him speechless as she reached out and cupped his balls, as brazen as any horny workshop elf. He didsolove for them to be fondled in such a way, and her grip was firm as she squeezed him, even if her cheeks had flushed and her breath seemed thready. The sugary delicacies in her husband’s bakery were well kneaded if her grip on his sac was any indication, and his groan of pleasure stuck in his throat as she rolled him in hand. His cock thickened in its sheath, and its red tip would be begging to peep out if she kept this up, necessitating him to go back to his room and drag her along to be his afternoon’s amusement.
“Is this your plan, little one? If you wake the beast, you’ll have no choice but to see this through.”
“I know,” she shot back, tugging and squeezing again. “You-you said you’ll take me back to your room and-and—”
He wanted to do exactly that; wanted to stretch her thick thighs wide and fuck her until she was unable to stand, wanted to leave his handprints all over her creamy white skin, to fill her mouth and her cunt equally until she dripped with his release . . . but he’d had enough of having the girl as a shadow. The sanctity of his vacation was in jeopardy if he didn’t teach her a lesson immediately.Let her see what the Naughty List entails.
With a snap of his fingers, the resort melted away. Balmy, tropical air was replaced with the bite of Alpine frost; the sweet smell of plumeria wiped out by pungent firs and snow. The forest was a black expanse, rocky and magnificent, the birthplace of old magic and creatures, home to both him and the big man alike. The old gods were still worshiped in places surrounding this forest, and it was here where his magic was most potent. Krampus wondered if Santa still made a point of visiting to recharge his powers, or if he’d grown so accustomed to the new world luxuries and the ease of online ordering that he’d determined it was no longer a necessity.
“Where-where are we?!”
The girl’s voice was a panicked exclamation, her eyes darting like a deer, and he laughed, laughed loud and long and without mercy. This was what she wanted, after all. He loomed over her, his tourist garb traded for his basket and bells, as menacing as he was when he showed up on doorsteps all season long.
“This is what you wanted, sweetling,” he echoed his thoughts, his voice a rough scrape. “You wanted to be punished by the Krampus, did you not? This forest is very old, ancient. Can you smell the trees, smell their age, feel their eyes? These trees are older than your new gods, and it is here that what you know asChristmaswas born.”
Another snap of his fingers and the girl was left bare, her blue sundress vanishing along with her underthings, leaving her nude and vulnerable beneath the steel-grey winter sky. Round hips and thick thighs, she too would redden beautifully. She trembled beneath his gaze, gooseflesh rising on her milky skin. Krampus chuckled, pausing to cup her heavy breasts, nipples puckered tight in the cold. Quick little breaths that made her shoulders shake had replaced her audacious bravery of earlier, and he smiled grimly at the smell of fear that rolled off her. She would learn soon enough, he thought, reaching up to the tree he’d backed her against, snapping off what he would need before pulling with a startled yelp over his knee.
“It’s time for your punishment, liebchen. Perhaps in the future, you’ll learn to be careful what you wish for.”
She cried out at the very first strike. Unused to punishment or perversions, not a naughty day in her life. He swatted her again, and again, and each time she gave a little shriek, her milk-white skin giving evidence to his actions immediately. Her ass was thick and round, the sort that begged to be cuddled on long winter nights, and it rippled with every swat, a beautiful display. She would provide a delicious cushion for his wide, caprine hips if he fucked her, which he still might do, he decided.
Pausing after a dozen lashes, he admired the red welts against her skin. She whimpered when he smoothed his palm over her, tensing when his fingers probed the lips of her sex.So much for wanting to be onKrampus’sNaughty List,he thought ruefully, softening his touch. Fear had outrun her bravery, no longer as brazen as she’d been beneath the bright, tropical sun, and she tightened, expecting pain.A bit of pleasure to temper the punishment,he thought, rubbing slow circles against her pussy, coaxing her clit into pleasure, not stopping until she was wet for him and he was able to coat his fingers in her honey. He sniffed her skin again as he rubbed her, confirming the initial whiff of her hair: clean and sweet, full of love and incredulousness and misplaced bravery, not a naughty day in her life. She was a good girl, as good as the Dara girl had been before Christmastime retribution had blown him into her life — full of kindness and consideration.
Worshipers of these asinine new gods mistakenly believed chastity was the mark of goodness, chastity and piousness, but these ancient trees knew better. There was no crime in passion or in loving freely, for seeking pleasure with others was one of the scant ways these humans had to express joy, and worshipers of the old gods knew this. Ritual sex and pleasure had always been a part of the ancient celebrations, and it was unfortunate that such merrymaking had been lost to the winds of change . . . he hoped the stocky baker knew what a jewel he had, and rubbed his sweet little wife’s pussy half so well every day.
His long tongue lolled, unable to resist taking a taste, and she was as sweet as he had suspected, as sweet as the treats she helped make each day. The girl’s fearful whimpers turned to soft, breathy moans as he lapped her, his tongue flicking over her clit with a relentlessness he knew she’d be unable to fight. Sure enough, she shuddered almost immediately when his thick fingers entered her, fucking into her with a solid pump of his wrist as she came, flooding his hand with her juices.
She was a good girl, a sweet girl, and rewarding such goodness was not strictly a part of his job description, but he was not finished tasting her, he decided. Besides, his cock was eager to join the party, his balls pulsing with need, and it would be easier to enjoy her after she’d already had her own pleasure. He turned her on his knee and the girl cried out, holding onto his horns when he lowered his face to her pussy to drink her up, right from the source.
“Oh . . .” she moaned, a soft, breathy little exhalation, raising her hips, a bit of that audaciousness returning. “Oh, ja . . . ja, ja . . .”
She gripped his horns for leverage as she moved against him, her head dropped back and a beautiful flush reddening her tits and throat, grinding her cunt against his nose and mouth wantonly. Krampus chuckled to himself, allowing himself to be used, amused that the creampuff was using his face as a fucktoy, the same threat he’d made against her the previous day. Her thick thighs trembled as he slurped and sucked, bathing her clit with his tongue until she came again, convulsions that made her contract, back arching. A delicious pussy, to be sure.
“Very nice, liebling, a very tasty treat. I always like a bit of pleasure to break up the pain.” Her eyes widened, mouth dropping open in shock as he stood her upright a nearby pine, her hands bound to the trunk with a snap of his fingers. “I hope you didn’t think we were done, dear girl. I have a reputation to keep up, you know. Do you think anyone would fear me if all I did was go around licking pretty little cunts all day? I’d have every fräulein in the world desperate for me to call! No, your punishment isn’t over just yet . . . Youwantedto be on my Naughty List, remember?”
The needles of the tree were soft and springy, but in his hands, they sharpened to needles for his task. Heavy and full, the milky round globes of her tits were an overflowing handful as he palmed one and then the other, kicking open her feet to shoulder-width as he kneaded them, pinching her nipples to hardness. Krampus let his long tongue drop, finding her clit once more, and the girl sighed as tickled the sensitive little pearl, still swollen from her orgasm. There was nothing in the world more delicious-tasting than a good girl’s pussy, he thought, and no sweeter sound than her screams. He increased the pressure on her clit as the pine needle pierced her nipple, and the sound that ripped from her throat was unsure of itself, whether it was pleasure or pain or a terrible,wonderfulcombination of both. The second needle sliced cleanly into the hardened peak, a ripple of old magic binding her to the tree with an unseen tether, and he picked up his Ruten once more.
She squealed and thrashed when the branches struck her bare cunt, biting against the place where he had so recently given her pleasure, four, five, six lashes. On the eighth, Krampus dropped his bundle. His cock was out, hungry and thick, and he couldn’t resist any longer. Old magic flowed through him, invigorated by the forest that bore him, an energy that made his cockhead and bollocks throb. The ancient power of the forest aided him in raising the girl, pulling her up the trunk by her nipples as her scream rippled through the forest, high enough for him to sink his cock into her with ease.
The tight grip of his fingers would leave bruises on her hips as they melted into her redolent flesh, warm and wonderful, thrusting his cock into her fully before setting a deep, driving pace. He had to hand it to her, Krampus thought — she struggled mightily. Her dainty little foot attempted to dig into his side, to dislodge him from her, and little balled up fists pinwheeled wildly. She was tight around him, tight and hot, but he was hotter. His balls ached, eager to spill, and he chuckled again at the girl’s unfortunateness — she’d bothered him early in the day, before he’d had a chance to rub one out into the rolling sea. His first spill of the day was the longest and the hottest, his biggest load, and his desperate need to come was being fed by the forest. The girl had not stopped shrieking, was still held suspended by the pine needles through her nipples which beaded with blood, but her panicked, pained shrieks were a whimper compared to the sound she made next.
He hoped she’d learned her lesson, he thought as he roared out his release, flooding her womb with the first burst of his burning seed, the scream she let loose an ear-splitting rattle. Krampus continued to thrust as his balls convulsed, tongue dropping to lick her clit once more, knowing her orgasm would extend and heighten his own. The girl thrashed against his ministrations, no longer wanting the pleasure he brought to her pussy, no longer wanting his spanking, no longer wanting to be on his Naughty List . . . but her body was helpless to respond. He continued to fuck her, continued to come, continued to tongue her clit until she clenched around his cock, her scream becoming a sob as she shook, and he groaned, relishing the way she tightened around him.
With a snap of his fingers, she dropped, breasts bouncing free as her nipples were released, impaled on his cock, and he let them tumble to the forest floor before covering her body with his own. He continued to thrust against her, rutting wildly against the blanket of fine needles beneath the ancient trees, tickling his own asshole with the end of his tail and wishing there was a workshop elf around to fill it.
“Remember, liebchen,” he hissed in her ear, increasing his pace as his end neared, “you don’twantto be on my Naughty List. You’re a good girl. Stay a good girl, and Krampus will never come knocking on your door.” His balls spasmed a final time, a ripple of pleasure he felt up his spine as they emptied fully, one last gush into her as she wailed, and then he was done.
The girl cried out when they were once again on the sunny deck, the softly rolling waves of the pacific forming white caps in the distance. The sun blazed down, and he adjusted the hat he wore once more fluffing up the orchids and plumeria encircling his neck. Her habiliment was similarly restored: her sundress in place, nipples as smooth and unblemished as they’d been before she’d ever come to this south pacific resort, her skin unbruised, and her hair unmussed. It was as if it had never happened at all, except for one small, steaming detail: her legs were smeared in his semen, her cunt still dripping with his copious release, soaking her panties, no doubt.
“I hope you’re happy, liebchen. A come-smeared strumpet, just as I promised. Remember this day, for I can take you back to that forest whenever I wish. I never forget a smell.”Or the taste of a pussy that sweet.“Now go. So help you if you interrupt my dinner again.”
* * *
That night he feasted on Poké and stone crab, kalua pig and more king prawn, the parfait feature of the night being berries in the snow, of which he enjoyed three. He watched the impressive show put on by the fire dancers, enjoyed the dance program of the graceful, skirted women, took a long walk on the beach after the festivities to burn off a sliver of the calories he’d consumed. He loved it here, he thought cheerfully; loved the warm air and delicious food, the abundance of ripe flesh and the relaxation of the sweet-smelling flowers . . . but something he’d been avoiding for weeks twisted his stomach as he walked, something sparked by the creampuff.
He was ready to go home.
