tagNonConsent/ReluctanceChristmas Eve Violation

Christmas Eve Violation


This story contains themes of non-consent, humiliation and more. If you are offended by such things, please do not continue. This is a story, meant only for enjoyment.


"Oh my head," I groan loudly as my eyes flutter open from a deep, semi unconscious sleep. My hands move to my head which feels like toxic waste. Why did I drink so much? I'm not 21 anymore going to college parties. I'm 30, an adult, an adult that knows better than to drink...let me see, oh god, I finished 2 bottles of wine yesterday by myself!

Why did I drink so much? You know why Becky. You drank so much because it's Christmas and you are all alone. Well, today is Christmas Eve morning to be exact. I'm in some stupid city for my stupid job, far away from my home, friends and family, about to have Christmas Eve and Christmas day in a stupid house that's leased by my work. That's why I drank so much.

To make me feel worse, I just noticed I fell asleep at my stupid laptop at the kitchen table. I groan at this as my body is extremely stiff from sleeping in such a hard chair. Pain moves over me as I try to stretch out the stiffness. I groan again as I think about what sort of drunk nonsense I probably got up to online. Probably went on reddit to rant and defend why I don't need to be married to be successful in my career. The type where I think I gave good logical arguments but ultimately said "You got married? Well you smell funny anyway."

My eyes catch the screen and I don't believe what I'm seeing. My heart sort of skips a beat in terror as I see I was on reddit alright, but in a subreddit that I rarely go on. It's a Sick Fantasies subreddit, where you post what your fantasy is to see if anyone in the area is into the same thing. Terror rises as I pray I didn't do anything stupid.

My head pounds harder and my hand shakes as I move my mouse to see my history. Oh no. I posted alright. Posted 4 hours ago. Posted a damn novel. Shame of all manners fill me, intensified with the feeling of being severely hung over. I've looked at this subreddit before, but only to look at the sickos. I've never responded or messaged or anything. I didn't even want anyone to think I would do such a thing, even if they only see my screenname.

"You're joking," I groan out loud as I begin to read my very long posting. I did it. I really did it. I posted a home invasion fantasy. Shame builds as I feel so vulnerable. I can't believe I shared that. I really can't. Yeah, I admit, it is a fantasy I've had forever, but not one that could ever be acted out. Too many people go through that daily and it's hell for them. And sometimes they don't get out alive. But I can't deny the way such thoughts make my lower half tingle in the control environment of my mind.

I read and read, hating myself more and more. Goodness...I went into great detail about things I would want him to do. Things that I've felt in my mind but never really put into words before. I never knew just how sick I can be before today. I read the words, rope, handcuffs, spanking, clamps and markers all in a single sentence and I almost stop reading in disgust.

I scroll down as I read, but then see the comments section. Dear me...it's flooded. I scroll and scroll seeing the endless number of comments. Unable to help myself, I delete the posting. I almost decide to delete the account, but I built up a lot of upvotes and would hate to lose that. I make sure I delete the posting and don't even think of checking my messages until I'm good and sober and not hungover.

So I take a shower and get into clean clothes. I cook myself lunch as I didn't wake up till 1 pm. I chug a lot of water as I mope about the house, trying to clear my head. I attempt to watch a few Christmas specials, but my heart really isn't into it. Being alone on Christmas is sort of pathetic. Sure, I could go to a bar or something, but I think that would make me feel even more pathetic. I don't know anyone in this city, except for the vendor I'm here to deal with, and I rather not think about him off of work time.

After a few hours of water and plenty of over the counter medical aids, I feel much better. The headache is gone as is the sleepiness. (Though that could be from the nap I took.) My mood somewhat improves but not by much. Alone, I watch as the sun begins to set and know the best part of Christmas Eve is about to become the worst part for me. And then at 6 pm, I open another bottle of wine.

Unable to sit through a heartwarming Santa movie, I go back to my laptop. I begin checking my messages, all 98 of them. I 'collapse' each one so I don't have to read them, but words pop out at me before I do that make me cringe. Most of them say gross acts they would do to me, then demand my home address. When I say gross, I mean gross. One in particular seems interested in how much gas I can pass daily.

A few messages give me that strange tingle, but it's quickly killed with bad English or punctuation. The idea that these people really would like to do what I posted makes me feel so desirable. To them, I would be just an object to use as forceful or passionate as they want. That, as horrible as it is, does turn me on. To be wanted in that way, not to be treated as glass.

In the end, I collapse every message. Only one stands out from the rest. Most are long paragraphs wanting to know what I look like or where I live. A few have links to pictures of parts I rather not look at. A couple just say 'hello.' But one is different. It reads, 'I'll see you tonight." There's no other message from this person or anything. To make it even stranger, the account is 4 years old, but there isn't a single comment, posting or anything from it.

No problem. Just a weirdo. No one knows where I live. I'm staying here temporarily and I didn't post the address. And I sure didn't message any of the weirdoes that responded to give it to them. No. I'm safe here. Here where no one knows I'm home.

I have another glass of wine and go back to my TV. Feeling a bit light headed, I turn to the Christmas Classics channel and sit on the couch. Well, at least I don't have to dress up. I've been wearing my pj's the entire day. No one is going to see me, so I might as well be comfortable.

I hear a strange heavy 'click' sound but before my brain processes it fully, I feel something hard press against the back of my head as I sit on this couch.

"Do not say anything, understand?" The deep, dark male voice states. Fear strikes all over me at once, like a wave in the ocean hitting me. Cold covers my body making my skin grow goose bumps. Fear like I've never experience hits me. There's a man in my house...with a gun pointed at the back of my head.

I nod once to tell him I understand without saying anything. My eyes rest on a children's Christmas cartoon that's on the TV but I can't really see or hear it. Everything in the world has now disappeared.

"Put your hands behind your head," he orders in that cold voice as he removes the gun from my head. Shaking, I slowly raise both arms and move them behind my head. Clasping my fingers together, I keep them there. I gasp as I feel something strange on my right wrist. I was expecting handcuffs or maybe a ziptie, but it's neither. It's metal, but flexible and it's covered in something rough and pokey. He wraps whatever this is around my right wrist and then to my left, binding my hands together.

With a cruel laugh he shows me what he's binding me with. He dangles it in front of my eyes. Garland. Bendable Christmas garland. Garland that he took from the banister by the front door. Disbelief rushes over me at the thought of being bound with Christmas garland, but it quickly disappears as he begins to wrap the garland around my neck. He wraps it several times, not very tight, but tight enough that one good tug could hurt me bad.

"I would keep my hands raised if I were you, unless you like choking to death," the stranger says and then laughs loudly. It occurs to me he's right. If I move my hands up or down, it'll pull on the garland and tighten around my neck. And the way he bound my arms it'll be impossible to find the end of the garland to free myself. He effectively is making me keep my hands behind my head.

"Most people round here have lots of people home," the man says coolly. "You seem to be the only one all alone," he says and I hear him moving about. "But I'm here...to wish you happy holidays," He laughs that cruel, mean, evil laugh.

My breathing becomes extremely fast at hearing this. Could he be one of the guys from Reddit? How could he? I didn't say where I lived! Could he be some random evil bastard? Could I still be dreaming? I mean, this can't be real!

"Ouch!" I cry out as he grabs a good handful of my hair. "Stand up bitch," he orders and his sheer strength lifts me right off the couch. My feet quickly find the floor and I'm able to stand on my own balance. I'm close to crying as I've never felt so helpless before. I have no control of anything at the moment.

The urge to pee myself comes as he presses the black gun to my stomach. He stands mostly behind me so I'm unable to see his face but I'm making it a point not to see it. If I don't see it, I can't ID him, giving him no reason to hurt or even kill me.

I whimper as he slides the gun down until it's at the waistband of my PJ's. Roughly, he nudges the waistband down just a few inches in front. Then he does the same on my right side and then the left side. He pushed my bottoms down, but not that much. Nothing important shows but my bottoms feel loose, like walking would make them fall.

Thankfully the gun is removed, but then a mean looking blade is flashed in front of my face. This makes me me back up, but I only back up into him, which feels like a brick wall. In a move that's so fast I'm not sure I see it all, he cuts open the front of my top. The blade must be very sharp as it rips my top in half in just a couple of seconds. Looking down, I see my pink bra, out and exposed for the world to see. It's not a very tight bra, as I like a looser fit when I'm in my jammies. It's the bra I sometimes sleep in as its comfortable.

I try to think of what to do, but no thoughts occur. I try to say something to him but then I notice several moments have gone by and he hasn't done anything. That's when I hear him moving about. I don't dare turn to look, but I can hear him, moving about as if looking for something. Is he robbing me?

"There," he finally says in a gleeful tone. "Close your eyes," he orders in an angry sort of way. Not seeing that I have any choice, I close both eyes. I wait for a punch or push or a kick, but that never comes. "Open says me," he orders after a moment. Opening my eyes slowly, I see my cell propped on top of the coffee table. The light is lit up and it's pointed at me.

My eyes widen as I figure out what he did. He's recording me. He's recording me on my own cell. Oh no. No. No. No.

"Jump up and down like a good little bitch," he says as if talking to a dog, making me want to scream. Now I get what he's done...why he tugged by jammies down and why he left me in my bra. Humiliated, I jump up, feeling my breasts rise and then fall as I land back on the ground. My breasts bounce for a moment, threatening to pop out but don't. Then I jump again.

This time, upon landing, my jammies and panties fall straight down to my ankles, exposing my womanhood to the camera. As if perfectly thought out, my breasts bounce right out of my bra as well, making sure to humiliate me as much as possible. My most precious places are now out and being recorded. I find I'm unable to jump again as I look from the camera.

The evil bastard laughs as I stand there, red faced, exposed, looking humiliated. "You look better like that," he laughs, making my face burn redder. "Smile for the camera bitch!" He says and laughs harder. I'm not sure if he's just laughing at me or actually wanting me to do it, but I give the camera a big smile as my breasts hang out and my vagina is exposed for all to see. This makes him laugh that dark laugh even louder. It echoes about its so loud.

"Shake them for us, jut them out," he states, still laughing and laughing. Humiliated more, I shake my shoulders, making my breasts jiggle, sway and bounce all over. With my hands behind my head, it makes my chest arch out more, making them feel more like targets.

"Now, let's make these...a bit more festive," he says, taking giant handfuls of my tender breasts and shaking them from behind as he talks. "No, wait, please," I beg as he shows me two objects from behind. Clamps. Nipple clamps, each with a small chain and hook. He wastes no time nor does he listen to my pleas. Both clamps are clamped to my tender, precious and sensitive nipples, making me cry out in pain and a weird sort of pleasure. It feels like someone is biting down on both nipples, except they have no teeth. I've never used clamps before but I didn't think it felt like this.

He doesn't do anything as I struggle to keep the pain under check. I squirm, groan and move a bit, but he does nothing, knowing he's recording it all. Then it occurs to me. I'm aroused. There's no denying it. I've been pretending I don't see or feel it, but I do. The tingle between my legs is no longer a tingle but a vibration running all over me. Being exposed, recorded...I like this. I like it? Oh gosh, how sick am I?!

"Here we go," the cruel evil man says as he brings something else in front of my face. I try to say, "you're kidding," but it doesn't come out. I watch as he connects the first one to the hook at the end of the clamp on my right nipple. I barely feel the pain of the weight of the object pulling on my breast as I just stare at the object. This can't be real. This can't be happening. Then he puts another of the same object at the end of the other clamp.

Open mouthed and dumbfounded, I just stare down at my tits. Wreaths. He's attached small Christmas wreaths to the end of each chain. There are two small wreaths, pulling on my nipples, swaying gently to and fro...and all of it is caught on camera.

"Now you are in the Christmas spirit!" He laughs and it booms around the house as if he was Santa himself. In a daze, I just look down at my poor breasts, not able to believe what I am seeing. "You're...you're crazy," I say without meaning to or even knowing. "More or less, yes," the man I can't see agrees. "But you best be quiet, unless you like a larger wreath be put on," he warns, and I'm quick to nod my head to show I'll be good. I'll be quiet.

"You are going on my Christmas card this year," he says as I hear him moving about. He steps back behind me, pressing against me, letting me feel his erection. This is a form of torture as I know what he's going to do to me, we both know it. But he wants to play with me, like a cat playing with a mouse before it eats.

"Merry," He says out loud as he writes the word in green marker over my right tit. "Tit-mas," he says as he writes this in red marker over my left tit in big block letters. He then takes time to draw a large tree on my stomach with the green marker. This gets very uncomfortable as makes my vagina the base of the tree. He draws ornaments and lights for the tree, trying to use as much space as possible. Lastly, he colors my nose red with marker, making sure he doesn't miss a spot. It'll take forever to wash all of this off.

"Now, looking into the camera, repeat after me," he now says, sounding more serious. With a sigh, I look at the camera. "I deserve this," he says and then prompts me to step out of my jammies that are at my ankles. "I...I d-d-deserve this," I say looking into the light of my own recording cell. Then...WHAM! Open hand, right on my right ass cheek. "I'm a stupid pussy," he says, and I repeat, "I'm a stupid pussy." WHAM, another one, this time on my left ass cheek.

He spanks me hard while I look at the cell. It doesn't take much time before my entire bottom is red and stings horribly from his spanks. And he makes me say so much. So many crude statements; "I deserve this." "Merry Christmas." "I have tits and a cunt." "I'm a Christmas whore." "I deserved to be raped." "I like to bounce my tits." "Please slap my clit." "Ho Ho Ho." And so much more. He spanks me for at least 20 minutes, covering every inch of my poor bottom. For sure, I won't be able to sit for the rest of the night.

"Now..." he says and I hate that he's so calm. He's not out of breath or excited, but he's perfectly calm. As if this is a normal day at the office for him. There's no chance he's worried about getting caught at what he's doing. Why would he? No one can see us, plus I live alone and everyone is off having a fun Christmas Eve.

"Start singing...Jingle Bells," he says and gives me a slap on my bottom to motivate me. "D-D-D-dashing though the snow..." I start, off key and tempo. Why is he making me sing? Oh no. Oh no no no no. He's puts a hand on my shoulder and begins to push downward, making me bend over. "In a...in a one h-h-horse open..." I keep singing as he bends me over more and more. Now I'm bent all the way, the wreaths swaying under me, as he prevents me from falling over by holding my hair.

Then I feel something pushed into my hands. It's...rope. I grab hold of it and discover it must be tied to the ceiling as it keeps me from falling over as I stay bent. I hold onto it as tight as I can, feeling my blank breasts sway. I no longer even feel the clamps on my nipples, though I would bet once they are taken off, it'll be horrible.

"Keep singing," he orders and the evil edge is back on his voice. "Over the fields we go," I keep on, trying to remember the words as he kicks my legs part. It's coming. It's really coming. My breathing has picked up as my face burns red. Yes! It's coming. I mean, NO! I mean...I mean...this can't be happening. He kicks my legs further apart so hard that it hurts. My legs are parted so much I know he sees...well both openings.

"Laughing all the WAY," I gasp out as he enters me without any warning or notice. He shoves his dick right into me, going so far in I can almost taste it. He leaves it there for a moment as if showing he is the one in charge. He's the dick that is inside me and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm just the stupid cunt.

He slides back some, and then in rather gently. Then he viciously slaps my ass. "Keep singing!" He bellows and slaps me again. "Jingle...bells...jingle...bells," I say, barely able to do it. The words come after each thrust, his cock going so deep in me, and my womanhood loving every bit of it. I seem to be gripping to him like I've never done to anyone else. I can't ever remember being this wet either. He's gliding in so easy.

"Jingle...all...the...way," I keep on, my eyes rolling. I'm looking down, seeing the wreaths sway violently as he picks up speed. My breasts are swinging freely, being pulled as they are. I can't believe this is happening. I have wreaths hanging from my tits while I'm being fucked!

"Oh, oh, oh," I can't help but moan as he picks up speed greatly. There's the clapping sound I know so well during sex, but it's harder than I've ever felt. Harder because he's so damn rough. He doesn't care about hurting me. He isn't being gentle. In fact, I think he wants to destroy me. That's his goal, to destroy my pussy. Oh, how I've wanted to feel a man do that to me forever.

"Bells. On. Bob. Tails. Ring," I keep on, my entire body bouncing off each powerful thrust. Then my hair is yanked, forcing me to look up and at the camera. "Sing!" He demands, pounding me faster. Waves of pleasure build, threatening to take over everything. They are red hot waves, red hot, mean waves bent on overtaking all of me. Once they start, I'm not sure I'll be able to stand it.

"Making...spirits...bright!" I yell while looking into the camera. Then it hits. I cum. No, that's an understatement. Fierce pleasure rolls over me and it feels better than the time I took X as a teen. It surrounds me as if a tangle thing that you can wrap yourself in.

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bycreativeboyinspring© 4 comments/ 42608 views/ 30 favorites

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