Story inspired by the following illustration:
Ever since hooking up with Daniel, the twelve days of Christmas have been anything but innocent. On the first day of Christmas, my true love married sweetheart sent me one pair of mistletoe-patterned panties. On the second day of Christmas, my secret lover sent me two red stockings with white trim. And so on and so forth.
Decorating me is the fun of it for Daniel. He wants everything just so. His Christmas tree is the same – every bulb and bauble spaced perfectly, the rows of tinsel six inches apart. And I am dressed in the gift he lays at the foot of our bed every morning and nothing else. Just another impeccably decked hall.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my not-boyfriend, not-quite-boss, gave me… nothing. I stare dumbly at the empty foot of the bed. The silk white sheets are still wrapped around my naked form, damp with our last fuck’s sweat. Daniel is up and gone, home to his family for Christmas morning. And I have no new decorations, no lights, candy canes or garlands for his enjoyment when he returns.
I stand, sure I have missed something, but there are no packages, nothing under the bed, no ribbons hanging outside the bedroom door. I shiver in the cold, my nipples perking up and, suddenly, I get it. My decoration today is nothing. He wants me naked and ready.
Smiling, I get to work arranging myself. No clothes – he would have left me something if he wanted me wearing anything at all – but I curl my golden locks and tie a bow in my hair so that he can unwrap me just a little. I prep my pussy with slick so he can slide in without effort. Then I wait.
Daniel doesn’t take long. When he walks through the door, a smirk graces his lips. Dark hair falls in his eyes and, despite the early hour, he looks dishevelled with his shirt buttons half undone and his belt off. Envy flares in me, hot and heavy, and he tsks.
“Now what have I said” – he tosses his jacket aside as he approaches, steps measured, but his eyes roast like chestnuts – “about petty jealousy?”
I lick my lips as he sits on the coffee table. He nudges my legs apart with a knee, his hand sliding up my inner thigh.
“That it’s not very pretty.”
He exhales a laugh and kisses me once, soft and tempting. “And you’re far too pretty to ruin.” He slips a finger inside me, his thumb effortlessly finding my clit, and I gasp. He swallows the sound and another finger works into me.
I moan as he fingers me and palms at my breast. When the third finger enters, he pulls back to say, “Now, who told you you could wear a bow?”
“What?” I say, too out of it to catch the tone until his hand is in my hair, yanking my head back.
“Who,” he repeats, darker, “said that you could wear a bow?”
I gasp as he rips out the decoration. “I thought… well, I thought…”
“You’d present yourself to me as a purchased whore?”
“I…”
The edge in his voice softens to a laugh and he kisses me again. His fingers twist and I tighten around his hand. Slipping out, he licks off my discharge and stands to walk away like I am not panting and wet, and he is not half-hard and red-cheeked.
“Daniel,” I drop to my knees. “Forgive me. I know I’m not… I’m yours. I’m only yours.”
His eyes scan me head-to-toe, considering the picture against what he imagined. He twists a finger through my curls and pulls a little. I whine.
“You’re mine?”
I nod.
“Prove it.”
Moving forward, I mouth at him through his jeans before unzipping his pants and taking him into my mouth. His cock hardens as I lick down the vein. He hums softly. I suckle at the tip, tongue the slit, and then take all of him into my throat with practiced ease. It’s not the cock-sucking that’s practised – it’s sucking Daniel’s cock. Having his length, the weight of him, in my mouth, is as familiar as breathing. I would spend all my time underneath his desk if he let me.
But he never lets me for long.
Daniel pulls me off, fingers gentle as he wipes the drool from my chin. He thumbs my bottom lip and says, “Okay.”
Before I know it, I am on my feet, back pressed to his, as he leads me to the apartment’s picture windows.
“You look so good,” he whispers as he kisses down my neck, “that I should share it.” His fingers find my cunt again, widening it just enough that he can slip his cock inside and fuck me forward. I press a hand to the glass, stopping impact. “Don’t you want to be a present for everyone not lucky enough to buy a whore?”
I groan, the length of him filling me, my whole body pulsing around him.
“I want all those people down there to know what you look like satisfied.”
A whine leaves my throat as he pulls my hips back and slams into me. He skids a hand up my chest until his fingers lock around my throat, the pressure compelling. My breath is still as steady as I can manage while he’s railing me. He bites my earlobe and uses his other hand to rub circles against my clit.
“Think of all those people down there looking in at you, wishing you were under their tree.”
My body shudders and Daniel brings me over the edge. Then he presses me hard against the window and takes, takes, takes until his come is dripping down my legs and a third orgasm has ripped through me and the window is fogged with our breath.
“Merry Christmas,” he whispers as he slips out of me.
I turn to kiss him, but he’s already gone.
