A Gift from Santa

Heels clipped marble flooring as Debs browsed rails of lingerie; silk, satin, lace and cotton. Mid-December and it was way past time for the obligatory Christmas shopping so what better gift for Paul, her boyfriend, than something skimpy she could wear to tease him with.

Having selected a couple of items, a dark red corset with matching garter belt and a gauzy semi-transparent short robe, Debs wandered farther, drinking in the festive atmosphere; tinkling seasonal music playing over the store's speaker system, sparkling decorations and the scent of cinnamon and mulled wine in the air all added to the fragrant ambience.

Pausing next to a mirrored column, she raised each piece of lingerie to herself in turn, then together. Not tall, at five feet and three inches, rounded, some might say plump, but with curves in all the right places, so Paul said; others, not so pleasant might have called her fat; waist-length dark chestnut hair, brilliant blue eyes and full pink lips smiled back at her. Yes, he'd love the outfit she'd chosen and with a brief inspection of her scant makeup, tailored skirt and a fine knitted sweater, she went off in search of stockings and to pay.

A scratchy almost inaudible voice sounded over the PA system "The store will be closing in twenty minutes, kindly take your purchases to the nearest customer service area. Thank you." It repeated a couple of times to drive home its point, but Debs was in no hurry having already paid.

Rounding a corner revealed a grotto, the sign outside proclaiming that within was a Santa, just for adults, 'after all, why should children get all the fun?' Small print revealed that having paid a small fee you could sit with Santa, tell him what you wanted for Christmas and at the end, leave with a 'gender and age' appropriate gift. "Fun..." she murmured, then grinned. "Why not?"

Believing it would only take a few minutes and justifying that it could be a little present for herself, she ducked down beneath the arch of holly, entered a short tunnel lit with sparkling fairy crystals and emerged inside what could only be described as an adult Christmas wonderland.

Believing this to be a converted storage area due to its location, Debs marvelled at the transformation and drank in the detail, appreciating the amount of effort that had gone into design and production of the Grotto. Pictures of semi-nude models stylishly bedecked in seasonal lingerie were dotted around a glitter-strewn curtained wall, hiding a mundane plasterboard surface, tinsel, sparkling fabric, silver leaves, luminescent fake snow crinkled underfoot and 'grown-up' toys; hopefully, examples of the type she might be given, lay displayed on pedestals, plinths and Christmas wrapped boxes.

On a throne fit for Santa, sat the man himself. His costume was, in her own admission, beautifully ornate, what she'd imagine the 'real thing' to look like. White beard, bright blue eyes, red velvet garments trimmed in ermine and a broad welcoming grin belonged to a face not nearly old enough to own such colouring, and yet it suited him.

Clutching her purchases along with a shoulder bag and the fee, she paused, curiously glancing about for someone to pay but, seeing nobody, not even a happy elf, she approached Santa and smiled back, hesitant as to what to say or do; the last time she'd been in such a situation she'd been merely six years old and accompanied by her mother; Debs remained speechless, blinking owlishly.

"Come, come, young lady, sit, make yourself comfortable, place your things over there on the Elf's stool, she'll not be needing it, already gone home." Santa's voice was delicious, deeply sonorous; it made all of Deb's girly parts tingle and nipples tighten. A wonder that any voice could affect a person in this way; the man must be worth a gold mine.

Having set down purchases, coat, purse and phone, Debs moved to where Santa reclined; feeling awkward, she hesitated. This was just how it had been as a child, eager to experience the thrill but reluctant to seek it from a stranger.

Taking a deep breath, she angled her body, lowered down onto his lap, smiled nervously and settled both hands primly in front of her. "I'm sorry, Santa, I'm probably too heavy, and, I've never done this before." Her speech faltered, but the bearded, bespectacled man didn't appear phased; smiling, ruddy complexion, eyes sparkling with mirth, truly, the epitome of any or all depicted versions of Santa himself. Debs found herself rather mesmerised and slowly relaxing.

"So, tell me, your name, a little about yourself, and of course, what you really want for Christmas." That voice again, it made her want to squirm and wriggle, yet conscious of her weight, Debs kept as still as humanly possible.

Clearing her throat, nerves returning, she began "My name, is Debs, I'm thirty-two, I have a boyfriend, a good job as a Personal Assistant to the Director of Human Resources at an I.T company just down the road from here. Paul, my boyfriend, he proposed, so I suppose that makes him my Fiancé, he's forty, married once before and wants a quiet Civil ceremony. What I'd love for Christmas, Santa, is a big white wedding, but that isn't going to happen." Debs rattled on for a while, slowly finding that after speaking, she had relaxed enough to admit even more detail then confessed: "You are a remarkably good listener, Santa, and I know the store is closing now, so, I'll uh, leave you to go see Mrs Santa."

Santa's arm had been up until that point, snugly fitted around Deb's waist, gloved hand neatly rested against one hip; the entire time she'd been talking, he'd made no moves other than to nod and make small sounds of sympathy, but at the precise moment she'd spoken of leaving, his grip tightened, and the other hand joined the first, effectively holding her to his lap in a firm embrace. "No need to leave, sweet girl, we have all the time in the world, relax, tell me more." His voice warmed her through to the core, and since she had been enjoying offloading her woes, decided to continue, for if he were not concerned about the time, then neither would she.

While talking, this time of more personal matters, about how Paul was loving, attentive but somewhat lacking in the bedroom, about how family life was near non-existent thanks to an estrangement with her parents and elder brother.

Debs felt something beneath her lap. At first, she ignored it as bunched clothing, a belt or something; perhaps even her skirt had ridden up; dismissing it for the moment, she went on to bemoan Paul's failings even more, despite loving him, explained that this had become a strain and gesturing to her recent purchases explained her efforts to spice things up, a last-ditch attempt to save what felt to be a failing relationship.

Santa had relinquished his grip, one arm still supporting Debs about her waist, while the other reached for something. Curious, she grinned when he produced the promised gift and laid it in her lap, gesturing that she should open it.

While tearing at the crinkled wrapping paper, he produced two more presents, all three boxes, different sizes and shapes but without opening, impossible to determine content.

The first revealed fluffy handcuffs, and she delighted in holding them up, the metal chain joining them clinked, the fur, luxurious, was lined on the cuff's interior, she imagined, for comfort.

The second revealed a medium-sized butt plug and a tube of lubrication; Deb's cheeks flamed while she squirmed in Santa's lap, all while he watched her reactions with great interest.

The third box contained something metal, that much she ascertained when shaking it gently, but something soft also, and on opening it she found what looked to be like little clamps and a piece of velvet cloth.

Finally, finding her voice and noting the breathy unevenness of it, Debs murmured, "Santa, this is very generous, thank you, but I'm not sure that Paul is ... uh ... likely to use any of these things." Woefully and with regret, she began to place the items back in their respective boxes, that is until a gloved hand stilled her movements.

Without a word, Santa plucked the cuffs from her fingers and deftly locked one around Debs' right wrist. This, of course, invoked a gasp of surprise and excitement. "Oh, Santa, please, I can't accept them, and this really isn't appropriate at all."

Santa chuckled and reached for Debs' other hand, in a gentle attempt to draw it behind her "Turn a little for me, Debs, let me do this, just to show you how it feels, you can put them back in the box after. I promise."

He was so reassuring, his voice smooth, almost hypnotic, she found herself nodding in agreement and allowing the restraint, aware of the arousal building.

They really were rather comfortable, although looking down she realised, belatedly, that the thin knit sweater she'd worn revealed a lack of bra, for beneath the woven fabric jutted forth both nipples, harder than she'd ever imagined possible; blushing, Debs angled her upper body, twisting it away from Santa, embarrassed by this natural reaction.

"How do they feel?" Santa tugged on the adjoining chain while asking then tested each cuff for fit.

"Very secure, Santa, comfortable, not too tight." Debs' voice quivered, unable to keep the nervous excitement out of it. "Just how I imagined they would feel actually."

"Excellent, excellent, and here... not pulling overly much on your shoulders?" Gloved hands settled on Deb's neck then moved outward, rubbing slowly back and forth in a kind of impromptu massage; something he seemed skilled at because in moments tension loosened enough to leave her a little slouched.

"No, no, Santa, that feels good, thank you, I now know precisely what I'll be missing." Debs, rueful tone bordered belligerence, and it took a moment to realise that Santa was smiling indulgently while clasping the velvet cloth fabric.

"You'll be a good girl for me, won't you Debs? While I put this on you? Hm?" The questions were rhetorical since Debs seemed to be a very good girl, at least for now. When the soft material settled down over closed eyes and was secured with a firm tie at the back of her head, she laughed nervously.

"Uh, Santa? I think that's enough experimenting for today; I really should get going now, it's getting late." Disorientated by the darkness and the deprivation of that one sense, Debs made as if to rise and attempted to slide off Santa's lap.

"No, young lady, stay a while longer, trust me, you'll enjoy this next piece." That voice again, she could listen to it all day long, hell, he could recite the phone book, and she'd happily listen while playing and depleting her store of batteries.

Debs, remembering each of the remaining toys, shook her head slowly and with reluctance said, "no, thank you, Santa, please, I really need to go, I shouldn't be late home; you've been very kind in doing this, and it has been so exciting but enough now."

She attempted to deliver her words with some degree of force, firmly, admonishingly, but it was difficult, given her excitement and, yes, arousal. "Nothing... I mean... none of what else ... is there ... is appropriate anyway. So, this ... has been lovely but I need to go... now."

Santa chuckled while holding Debs in place on his lap; the laughter could be felt, jiggling her up and down. It had a mixed effect, was he laughing at her? With her? She could hear him rustling with more paper; it tore, perhaps another box, she had no way of really knowing "I promise you, Debs, be a good girl for Santa, and all will be well."

There was something reassuring about how he spoke, the words, 'promise' and, 'all will be well'; of course, it would be well, she was going to straighten up, stride on out of the store and go home to masturbate. Things would be brilliant. However, the moment she opened her mouth to tell him that no, she wanted no more of this play, she felt something firm and rubbery pushed past her lips and teeth.

Jerking, Debs attempted to reach for the object but couldn't; fluffy cuffs thwarted the movement. By the time it took for her feet hit the floor to stand, and stagger, the gag was fitted, secured in place and immovable by tongue or teeth no matter how hard she tried.

Blinded, restrained and all but muted, panic naturally built; chest tightened, reducing her capacity to breathe; nostrils flattened with each inhale, flared on outward breaths while she endeavoured to protest.

Santa's hands were not idle throughout this, once having secured the ball gag, he well anticipated Deb's reactions, wrapping muscular arms around her upper body, he leaned in to murmur in her ear. "Remain still. Calm yourself. I made you a promise, and it is one I intend to keep. You can put everything back in their boxes. After."

She had finally stilled, feeling where his lips grazed the tautened flesh of her neck. Although unable to refrain from trembling, Debs, grunted an acknowledgement; rationalising that even were he to let go, she could not free herself, nor escape; utterly blinded and restrained it would be an exercise in futility to make any such attempt without injuring herself. Add to that her arousal, the wetness of her panties and hardness of her nipples, it was obvious, at least to herself, that she truly wanted whatever he had planned, to happen.

Seemingly pleased with Deb's capitulation, Santa dragged fingers through her hair, gathering it into a tail and securing it with a tie, toying with the lengths in a soothing gesture. "Debs, trust me, you want and need this, I swear you are safe, I will look after you. By the time we're finished, you'll be glad you accepted, please, submit to my care for this experience." He sounded so sincere, so reassuring, so seductive that Debs found herself nodding, quickly at first then slowing the movement to appear less eager.

Santa, noting her capitulation and sensing acceptance, stood, moving around to guide her in front of him until Debs' upper thighs and groin met with an obstruction; the arm of his throne that would be providing support.

One of his gloved hands guided her upper body downward, bending it at the waist and thus affording him a glorious view of her upturned bottom. "This, this, is what I wanted to see," Santa growled with appreciation and rubbed both hands over the fleshy plumpness then, reaching for her cuffed hands, pushed them higher, forcing a bending of the elbow. "Remain as you are, you may squirm, but not get up."

One booted foot kicked aside hers, sliding them to more than shoulder-width apart and thus lowered her even further onto the cushioned, bolstered throne limb.

Debs did indeed squirm, eyes blindly swivelling back and forth behind the blindfold, mouth drooling profusely leaving a darkened wet patch on the fabric, something she'd discover whenever moving her head. Such a vulnerable position, both thrilling and exhilarating yet at the same time daunting; deep down, this was what she craved more than anything, a Dominant older man to take control.

Removing his gloves, Santa luxuriated in feeling Debs bottom once again, lifting and pressing the fleshy rump to indent the plump cushion before reaching for her skirt's waistband.

Having unfastened the button and zip, he pulled both that garment and her panties at the same time, down to around the ankles, and off. "Oh... yesssss." His deep voice resonated with lust and appreciation.

Debs' clothing became discarded in the rough direction of her other belongings before Santa resumed his exploration. Fingers were digging into the flesh harder, prizing apart each buttock in turn then together to reveal the dark cleft between. "Yes... yes... yes..." He groaned out his words then bent down to take a bite, sinking his teeth into the pale unblemished skin and leaving light indentations that would fade in moments.

Debs jerked at the first touch then yelped at feeling what initially hurt but dissipated. His mouth left the small area wet, so she was in no doubt as to what had pained her briefly; wriggling and twisting, hips twitched from side to side, the sounds she made admonished him.

Santa chuckled, then leaned in once more, this time to drag his tongue upward, beginning at Debs' now moist cleft to the tightly pinched orifice that twitched when touched. He lavished this with attention even going so far as to thrust inward a fraction, nuzzling between her generous cheeks while pressing them closed around his face.

Debs gasped, moaning, arching, rocking her hips, unable to help this natural reaction, her body craved more, and Santa obliged. His fingers, two of them, finding her engorged nether lips puffy and slick, pushed past them slowly producing from Debs louder, more urgent sounds of pleasure.

Santa's free hand was not idle; it began raining down slap after slap to that upturned posterior until each cheek turned pink, then red. Every stinging blow that landed both horrified and thrilled her. It hurt, and at the same time felt delicious, enough time between slaps having lapsed, for the skin to warm, it's stinging burn to dissipate before becoming renewed.

How had he known she'd love it? Never would she have admitted to feeling stimulated from such an act and yet, there she was, bound, gagged, blindfolded, finger fucked, her ass glowing scarlet and highly aroused.

Debs moaned, the throaty sound more than audible despite the ball gag making all speech impossible. So, lost in that fog of need he'd driven her toward, it came as a sharp shock to feel something cool and wet pressed to her tight pucker... The plug, it had to be, that and lubrication, or at least she hoped.

Sure enough, Santa, having withdrawn his slick fingers from her soaked quim, had liberally spread the water-based lube over a medium-sized butt plug and begun to push the rounded tip to Deb's asshole. She clenched reflexively, tension thrumming through her body.

A quick succession of distinct slaps to her backside was delivered before Santa admonished "Relax, push out as I push in, I want you to enjoy this, and your clenching will make it painful. Do as you are told, this will feel good, I promise."

True to his word, when relaxed enough for the plug to push past the first ring of muscle and the burn of stretching had dissipated, it did indeed feel good. So good. A fullness that she'd not experienced before provided an ache deep within her that could not be truly quantified.

Once the plug became fully seated, more drool fell, saturating the cushion on which her face rested; chest rose and fell in quicker, more shallow breaths, while she focused on remaining relaxed for whatever was to come next.

Her heavy breasts hung down, their nipples abrading the velvet cushion, stiffened almost to the point of pain making it increasingly difficult for Debs to focus. Her bottom, tender, stretched and filled, pulsated, clitoris twitched, eyes rolled within their sockets unseen, perspiration beaded, glistening across her exposed body and muscles trembled with the strain of keeping herself still, leaving Debs in a panting drooling mess.

Santa reached between her thighs and glided them upward from about level with one knee and headed toward the apex. "Wet..." fingers came away glistening with the evidence of Debs' arousal, something she had not noted.

Feeling him move away, hearing keenly, footsteps on the fake snow-strewn ground recede, she slumped, allowing the throne to bear her weight entirely. Groaning with relief and a little regret, believing her 'experience' to now be over, she waited for his return impatient, expectant for the cuffs, gag, blindfold and plug to be removed.

Santa returned, what felt like an hour later, when in fact it had only been a few minutes, setting things near enough to Debs that she'd feel a disturbance in the air. This was deliberate on his part, wanting her to know, to expect something else. Reaching beneath her upper body, he grunted "Up." and guided her to lift a little, enough that she'd elevate and allow him to push the thin knit sweater up, enabling him to expose both breasts and roll each nipple between forefingers and thumbs.