Dark Santa: A Fantasy Adventure

Dark Santa

A Fantasy BDSM Adventure

By Dusty Rodgers and Trina Knotty

If you are reading this, you asked for it; either out loud or deep within the quiet darkness of your horny heart. This story, like many Christmas stories, begins with a home invasion. However, it also contains graphic language and fantasy portrayals of strong D/s themes, bondage, impact play, light degradation, and questionable non-consent. If you don't like it weird and rough, clearly you've yet to find Dark Santa in your heart this year. This was written by a married couple who are madly in love and write this filth because they are depraved perverts.

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Prologue

Dark Santa is what you'd expect; a black-suited Anti-Claus who brings pain and pleasure instead of gifts. Like Krampus, except instead of punishing children, he punishes naughty sluts. This little-known traditional character gives harsh lessons to the deserving. Not to change their ways, but to keep them bad and worse.

He knows if you've been bad, and that's not good enough. He needs you filthy, dirty, and filled to the brim. You might not even know what a depraved, disgusting little whore you are until Dark Santa comes to visit.

Try to hide and he will find you. Resist at all and he will just tie you down. If his powers sense that you are a particularly bad slut, you may become one of his chosen elves: fuck slaves granted immortality in exchange for eternal servitude to their master.

The process for turning a human depends on the slave's attempts to resist. But whether it's days or months, they all break eventually. Dark Santa knows how to choose the best sluts and has centuries of experience turning women into cock-hungry servants. Once finished, he decides either to keep the her at his South Pole ice cavern fortress, or release her back into the world and visiting once a year. He seeks a careful balance in this decision, and it isn't always easy. Consider little Jessica's story of the first time Dark Santa came to town.

Part 1: Home for the Holidays

Chapter 1

In her rustic cabin nestled in the Sierra Mountains, Jess was certain she—regrettably—was the only creature stirring. The light from the cabin's windows cast into the night, giving an orange glow to the heaping dollops of snow draped over the cabin's frame. It seemed tiny, nestled in a small clearing amongst towering pines, but to Jess it felt huge.

Everything about the space was made for two and reminded her that Ron was away. She and her husband built the cabin with the help of friends and contractors over a year and half. They endured almost two full winters in a partially-insulated hunting shack on the forested property, motivated by love and the goal of their dream house. It was land Ron's father owned as a hunting camp, and Ron was the only one of his siblings—three brothers—who was interested in keeping the little parcel. At the base of a small mountain and abutted by Forest Service lands, it felt simultaneously wild and protected.

Ron and Jess slowly transformed the little clearing at the top of the long, winding dirt driveway into their own little retreat and after three years she finally had everything just right. She was always in awe at the life they were able to create for themselves; they were natural scientists who could work at home from the mountains when they weren't traveling to field sites near and far. It was an ideal situation for homebodies who also liked to explore the vast natural beauty of the lands they cared for. The weeks where one of them travelled were always a challenge because neither of them could go long without out touching each other, let alone alone fucking each other silly. They were still in love and hot for each other after years, and the time apart on travel weeks was unbearable!

This was one of those weeks. Ron was away doing a damage assessment on some kind of chemical accident on at an old abandoned mining shack, and Jess was alone in the cabin. On a Friday, only three days before Christmas and Ron wasn't sure how long he would be gone. His team was staying at an old motel near the site and he said he may not be back until Christmas Eve. Jess was disappointed and lonely, but understood because the situation was often reversed.

It wasn't late. Only 8 o'clock but long since dark; moonless and cloudy with temperatures dipping well below freezing. Fresh snow fell on their cozy cabin, making the home feel shrouded, soft, and safe. It snowed hard throughout the day, probably a foot or so but drifting into banks much deeper in places, adding to the heavy snowpack that started in November. Jess brought in plenty of firewood for the evening and was keeping the wood stove blazing hot, casting its flickering warmth dancing throughout the pine interior and illuminating her long blonde hair held back in a loose ponytail. Their stockings were hung with by the stovepipe with care, and the rest of the cabin was festive with fresh pine, cedar, and fir boughs in the rafters that filled the space with their aroma. Before Ron left, the two snowshoed up into the forest and cut down the best Christmas tree they'd ever found, which Ron tagged with some red and green surveyor's tape earlier that fall when bowhunting for mule deer.

The tree had lights on it and maybe three ornaments, which is as far as they made it before getting distracted by each other's bodies. That aside, she felt as festive as she could be in the company of herself during the holidays.

Nestled under a thick blanket on one of the couple's matching leather club chairs, she read the newest in a sexy thriller series while drinking a hot buttered rum. Starting a warm buzz from the delicious boozy concoction, she felt she could melt.

Her evening attire was matching silk shorts and a loose camisole top, in cream with a little holly leaves and berries pattern. She liked how the silk felt on her body, hot from the fire's radiance. While she savored the hot aromatic drink, she reached one of the many steamy scenes in her book. She absently started cupping her breast, enjoying the feeling of the silk between her fingers and on her nipples. As the scene heated up, she moved her hand down to the soft fabric between her legs, and began touching herself. As her nipples hardened, the silk felt even smoother against them.

Jess's mind wandered from the book to the last time she had been with Ron. It was just last Sunday before he left early in the morning. She was in the kitchen, packing him a few meals to tide him over until he could make it to a store to restock his supplies. She had been listening to Christmas music, dancing around and singing along to a Jimmy Buffet song when he came up behind her and put his arms around her. He kissed her neck softly, and she turned around in his arms to face him. They started kissing hungrily, holding each other close. She pulled away, playfully unzipped his pants, and slowly dropped to her knees on the kitchen floor. She took him in her mouth as he got hard and teased him with her tongue. She loved sucking his cock, seeing how deep she could take him, enjoying the moans of pleasure that he made. Once she was wet and ready, she stood up and he untied the little bow holding her pajama shorts up. They dropped to the floor, and she wasn't wearing any panties. She quickly moved the cutting board with the sandwiches she was making over to the oven top and nimbly hopped up on the counter. The counter was just the right height for her to sit and him to easily enter her. As he slid inside of her, she moaned a little and kissed him again.

She was rubbing herself more deliberately now, and pinching her left nipple as she was remembering last Sunday's fun, when she heard a loud thud outside. Sometimes snow accumulated on the roof and slid off, making a large racket against the walls of the cabin. She looked up, shrugged to herself, and glanced down to see the empty bottom of her mug in one hand and her wet fingers on the other. As Jess got up for another round, she heard another loud thump from outside, followed by a metallic jingling—sleigh bells? No, could it be chains? The faint noise was quickly followed by three loud knocks on the front door. Bang! Bang! Bang!

Jess startled. She didn't hear a car arrive up their long winding dirt road, or a snowmobile come down from one of the forest trails. Usually on night like tonight she was snowed in until her retired neighbor with a plow cleared the way in early morning. It was too far to walk up from the main road, which was also dirt and currently snow-covered. They never got visitors, especially unannounced in a storm at night. Jess was unsure what to do, and felt a strange conflict about opening the door.

She knew she shouldn't. Tall at five foot nine, she was slight in frame. As much as she worked out, she got more toned than muscled. She didn't know if she had the strength or knowledge to fend off any attackers, never mind how they wound up at her door. Nor was she dressed to answer. Remembering how exposed her skin was, she grabbed her heavy flannel robe from the chair beside her.

She called hesitantly toward the door, "Who's there?"

No answer. She inched closer and called out a little louder, "Who's there? My husband's just getting out of the shower! How can I help you?"

Still no answer. Frightened, she reached for her cell phone to text Ron, "Someone's here, help!" But when she went to hit send, the message failed—she had no signal. No wi-fi, no low bars, not even SOS.

Frustrated and scared, she tossed her phone down on the chair and shouted, "We're armed, just because we're liberal scientists doesn't mean that we don't have guns in the home; I hope you're not here looking for trouble!" Shit that was stupid, why did I say that?

And then she heard it, muffled and low. She got closer to the door, head cocked and ears tuned. A man's voice, low and nearly inquiring, "Huh...huh...ho..."

She demanded again, "Who is it!"

Not shy this time, he declared in a loud gruff baritone, "I'm here for the ho...ho...HO!"

She was confused; was this a joke? It didn't seem like a nice one, was it a threat? But suddenly, and contrary to her hesitation about whoever was out there, Jess felt a strange need to open to door—to let them in. It didn't seem like this was someone who needed help, but a part of her felt the urge to give them with whatever they needed.

As if on its own, her hand reached for the lock on the heavy wooden door and turned it with a click. Her hand moved to the door handle, slowly turned it, and pulled open the door just enough to peer though.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Jess tripped as she jumped backwards. She stumbled back across the cozy room and fell into her chair, spilling the contents of the table beside her. As she sat aghast, draped on the chair, she tried to process the figure that stood in the empty doorway.

Barely lit by the cabin's glow, snow drifted in behind him and swirled into the cabin. Jess turned from shock to confusion to dread as she realized this man was wearing what looked like a long Santa Claus coat and hat, except it was all black leather adorned with gray fur trim and glistening steel studs. His heavy leather jackboots boots strode further into the doorway, and when fully inside the cabin's light, it was clear to Jess this was no Santa impersonator.

There was no white beard. Instead it was dark and wild, with strange pieces of carved bone and gems knotted into long braids. His pale skin made wells of his terrifying eyes; completely black with gold irises—gleaming with darkness.

He was towering, maybe six foot six and definitely not a chubby Santa Claus. His long black and white fur trench coat was parted by a frigid gust of wind to reveal a bare muscular chest covered in leather straps and buckles. His body looked hairless, and his midriff was girdled in lithe knots of muscle. More harness straps crossed his stomach and thighs, and around his waist was a large buckle and a woven leather codpiece. In his hand was a long, coiled black bull whip.

"I'm here for the ho," he bellowed again, "and I think it's YOU!"

He flicked his wrist and the whip quickly uncoiled across the room and wrapped itself around Jess's neck. It pulled tight, lifting Jess onto her feet. She grabbed at the leather braid, which seemed to tighten as her hands clawed at it. As she staggered forward, her robe fell open and her breasts spilled from the loose pajama top.

With a flick of his wrist, the whip was gone from her neck and was coiled in his hand faster than Jess could make sense of it. She managed enough air to gasp out loud, "Who the fuck are you!"

Lively and quick, he was across the room in an instant and loomed over her with his massive left hand and grabbed her by the pony tail. His hand jerked slightly, pulling at roots of her hair, and his voice became quiet and coy, "I'm Dark Santa and I'm here to teach you the true meaning of Christmas: despair."

Jess tried to swallow hard and let out a small whimper. The whimper became a gasped yelp as he pinched her right nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger with his free hand, sending a jolting sensation rippling through her body.

She could not tear away from his eyes, which pulled her in their swirling black and golden depths. They seemed to penetrate past her gaze into somewhere deep in her chest. Her heart raced and she felt something within her twist for a moment and suddenly release. A wave swept over her pussy and she felt a gush in her already wet pussy. She was wetter than she had ever been, but how could that be? This was terrifying, wasn't it? But staring into his eyes of glimmering nothingness, she felt nothing but yearning with her entire body.

No! This can't be happening, this isn't real what the fuck!!

Still held out in his left hand by her ponytail, she began to flail and beat at him but his arm felt impossibly hard. He didn't even seem to notice her attempts, and she gave up when he broke his gaze and looked down. He released her nipple with his free hand and worked the buckle loose around his chest.

A crooked smile slowly grew across his face and he chuckled, "Ho oh no! You have nothing to dead. I'm not here just to hurt you, you little slut. I'm here to teach you a lesson in what you need."

Jess couldn't understand what she saw, and definitely wasn't prepared. When he loosened the buckle in the middle of the harness, four separate leather straps sprung forward, moving on their own and quickly growing in length toward her body. They wrapped themselves around each one of her wrists and ankles like fast-moving tendrils of a vine. As the straps tightened around her, they were strong enough she could hardly move against their pull. They pulsated and lifted her up with a muscular flex. Dark Santa grabbed her by the waist with both hands, spun her toward the chair, and shoved her down into it.

But, she didn't so much fall into the chair as she was constricted down into it; bound tightly and going nowhere. The straps had released themselves from underneath Dark Santa's cloak and snaked underneath and around the chair, pulling her knees into the leather seat cushion and her chest into the backrest. The straps grew ever longer, writhing and wrapping around her body and pinning her neck and head over the back of the soft leather armchair. Her back was pulled into a downward arch, her knees held secure against the arm rests, presenting Dark Santa with her helpless ass and pussy.

The legs of the chair screeched against the floor as Dark Santa roughly spun her around until she faced him, about a foot away from the woven straps of leather that slithered and moved against each other. As she struggled against the pull of the large straps binding her, she looked up at Dark Santa and again felt a knot twist inside when his abyssal gaze met hers. She felt another surge flow through her body like electricity, starting in her fingers and toes and coalescing between her legs, releasing as a flood of juices to her already soaked and exposed pussy. As her wetness dripped down her thighs to the leather cushion, her brain screamed at her body for betraying her. Why, the more helpless I become, the more I crave with all my body, and how am I so fucking wet?

This man's stare—more like a creature's stare—grabbed at something inside her; a dark tangle buried deep in her core. She needed whatever came next, but was certainly not prepared for it.

Dread and desire coursed through her as he loosened the buckle at his waist. A dozen writhing leather straps unbound from one another to reveal his cock, just inches from her face. When Jess saw what his codpiece hid, she was sure this was no human man. She should have been repulsed, but instead found herself with an overwhelming need. A need to have what she saw before her.

Two of the straps wound themselves tightly around his smooth, heavy balls while the others flexed and grew outwards around her neck and head. The straps braided themselves snugly around her entire throat, not quite choking her but firmly squeezing it while they writhed and pulsated.

"My coursers will prepare the muscles in your slut throat to take your Master's cock. Take it well and I promise you the rest of your training will go easier. There's no need to deny what you already know: your body belongs to me, and your mind will soon follow."

"Master"? "Training"? What was this? Bullshit, like I want to be this creature's plaything; he's a fucking abomination!

But as the thought passed through her mind, it felt empty. The feeling pulsating through her body defied logic, decency, and fuck...her marriage vows! All those things she held so dear became meaningless noise in her brain as the braided collar squeezed and massaged her neck, and her mouth began to water from what she saw.

She first thought his skin was pale white, but up this close in the flickering light from the fire, it glimmered like pearl. His cock began to swell, and she could see dark gold blood in its thick veins. As the straps wrapped and jostled Dark Santa's balls, they twitched—each time causing his cock to grow thicker and longer.

If you could even call it a cock. Two-thirds erect and dangerously close to her face, it was its own monster. The fat head of his cock, where the crown of a human's would taper to the shaft, was followed by four more fleshy ridges, extending halfway down his entire length. As his cock grew harder, Jess also could see it was getting heavier. The fat ridges of his cock became an opalescent gold as the veins in his shaft bulged to support its weight.

He was completely erect now, and the tip of his throbbing cock steadily leaked sweet-smelling precum less than and inch from Jess's face. Ron had a great cock that reliably hit all her spots, and she had gotten on some big ones in her promiscuous past, but this was something else entirely.

She licked her lips and tried to move closer, but her writhing bonds jerked her back out of reach. Her mind reeled. Wait, what the fuck? What was I just doing, trying to taste him? Actually try to fit that thing in my mouth?

CRACK!

All thoughts were banished from her mind by a sudden searing burn on her ass. She looked over from his mesmerizing cock to see Dark Santa's whip in his hand, the long braided piece now unfurled into writhing tendrils of straps that strained toward her back.

Dark Santa chuckled, "Now now, let's not get too ahead of ourselves little Jess. You can't have it until you beg for it."

No fucking way would I beg for that monster's cock.

At the same time that thought was forming, she realized her head and mouth straining once more for the giant, terrifying cock. The whip cracked again, and another burning sting crossed her ass, this time with more force.