Jingle All The Way

Good gods, it had been a long night.

He chuckled to himself, knowing that he said that every time, but it seemed a little truer this time. In fact, the whole project had taken a lot more out of him than usual.

Was he getting too old? Was there too much on his plate? Had he lost his joie de vivre?

He certainly hoped not, because a new project would start in a matter of days and he needed to be ready.

As he gathered the will to get out of the rig, he looked at the house and smiled.

Little fairy lights surrounded every window, twinkling in the late-night darkness, and a soft glow came from the window closest to the door. He knew the old lamp was on a table there, waiting to welcome him home. The ground was covered with mounds of snow, and the trees had been coated in lace-like finery.

Wanting to be inside where it was warm, he finally hauled himself out and onto his feet. He slowly trod around the rig, giving it a quick inspection. Satisfied, he snapped his fingers twice and headed for the front door.

He took great care to be quiet as he opened and closed the door, not wanting to wake anyone. He dropped his bag onto his big chair in the sitting room and walked on into the kitchen. It was dark and silent, and a glance out the window showed the snowflakes falling again. He shivered as a chill seemed to grip him for a moment.

Opening a lower cabinet, he easily found the bottle he wanted and brought it up to the counter. Fetching a glass from behind another door, he poured a long stream of the amber liquid. Swirling the glass, he sipped and exhaled.

He carried it with him and walked through the large dining room, neat as a pin, with every chair pushed in just so. That was the work of his amazing wife, he knew.

Continuing down the long corridor, he could hear the sounds of soft snoring and other sleep sounds as he passed some of the bedroom doors. His eyes were on the one at the end of the hall, where his warm bed and his darling, slumbering wife waited.

His hand was on the doorknob when he stopped and hesitated. Turning to his right, he opened the door there instead.

No reason to turn on the lights just to undress, he thought. He dropped down onto the sturdy little chair in the corner and began to undo the laces of his thick black boots. Pulling the sides apart, he eased his foot out of one, and then the other. Leaning back, he wiggled his toes and sighed quietly.

Setting the boots aside for later polishing, he undid the big belt at his waist then stood and unbuttoned his fly, letting the pants fall to the floor. He stepped out of them, picked them up and laid them across the now-unoccupied chair. One by one he undid the hooks and buttons on his coat and reached up for the last one at the neck. As he released it, he felt it snag in his beard.

Oh for heaven's sake, he thought, I'm too tired for this.

He tugged at it once or twice, to no avail. Finally, he flipped the light switch on the wall. He scrunched up his eyes as a bright light filled the room, then peered into the mirror. Ah, there it was! He extricated the hook from his facial hair and slid the coat off gratefully. Last to go was the long underwear—the shirt off over his head, and pants slid down and kicked aside.

Leaning against the counter, he curled his shoulders and stretched his back, then bent at the waist and let his upper body hang down. He felt his bones crackling and his muscles releasing and he sighed again. His thoughts turned again to his soft bed and the idea of spending about a week sleeping.

Just then, the lights flickered. He stood up straight and looked around. The storm must be picking up, he thought. Thank goodness he was home.

Turning around to collect his clothes from the floor and put them on the chair, he was stopped in his tracks once again—this time by the sight of the big soaking tub, which was filled and steaming.

How in the world...?

He walked over, sticking his hand into the water, confirming that it was, indeed, steaming hot. Since he was already naked, and not one to miss an opportunity, he rubbed his chest and belly and climbed into the tub. Settling back on the bench, he sank and let the water engulf him.

His eyes closed and time passed.

He sat up with a start. Had he fallen asleep? What time was it? He must have slept because some of the overwhelming weariness he'd felt had left him.

He took the bar of handmade soap and gave himself a good scrubbing, then piled out of the tub and grabbed a big warm towel. Sufficiently dry, he wrapped himself in his favorite thick red robe and headed for the bedroom.

Quietly turning the doorknob, he crept in and closed the door just as quietly behind him. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the sleeping outline of his beloved wife. He stood, smiling, thinking of how much she had sacrificed for him over the years and how much he depended upon her. There was just no way that any project could be successful without her, and he had proof of that every single day. Whether she was cooking and feeding workers, or smoothing out disagreements, or supervising a project, she was an absolute necessity in his life. Not to mention how deeply he loved her...and the devotion he felt to her...

He moved to the side of the bed and gently peeled back the covers, trying to get in without waking her. Working on slipping between the sheets, he stopped as she stirred. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, and he continued, finally fully on the bed. As he began to nestle down into the featherbed and his comfiest pillow, she rolled over to face him.

"I was waiting for you, Chris."

"Jess, darling, I'm sorry I woke you! I was trying..."

"It's alright," she said, sitting up, still bundled in blankets.

She tossed the blankets back and stood, and as her feet touched the ground, the room was suddenly lit with candlelight.

He raised an eyebrow and propped himself up on one arm.

"Jess?"

She turned to face him, and he took in the sight of her.

Her body was embraced in red latex that reflected the light of the candles, and her waist was tightly cinched by a white leather corset. The white fur boots came fully up to her thighs.

He gulped.

"Chris, I said I've been waiting for you."

He almost broke the land speed record getting out of the bed and across the room to where she stood.

"Yes, Mistress Jessica. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting." He knelt at her feet.

"That's better. The project is done?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress."

"And it was successfully completed?"

"100%, Mistress."

"Excellent. I'm very pleased."

Those words melted his heart and turned him into a puddle.

"I live to please you, my Mistress."

She moved behind him and slipped a blindfold over his eyes. A quiver of pleasure ran straight up his spine.

"Time for your reward, Chris," she murmured, helping him up.

He heard the snap of her fingers and a smooth sliding sound and he knew what she was doing.

He carefully accepted her guidance as she led him a few steps and then turned him around, something solid against his chest.

His arms were raised one at a time, and he felt the chains being fastened. The crinkling of her latex made him perk up his ears and in the next moment, his ankles were bound.

He leaned his forehead against the cross and inhaled slowly, giving himself over to whatever she had in store for him.

"I've been waiting all month for this, Chris," she said, swinging her flogger at his back and bottom.

"Ohh, Mistress," he whispered, the rhythmic beats soothing his mind.

He moaned softly as she began to pick up the intensity of her swings, the pounding of the falls hypnotizing him. She worked up and down, over his back, his ass, and the backs of his legs, and he could feel his blood flowing to those areas, warming his skin.

After a while, the strokes slowed, then stopped. He enjoyed the silence, hearing only his breathing and hers. Then the jingling started.

Bells? What the..."

He heard the whoosh of the air just before the riding crop landed in the middle of his right cheek, causing him to flinch.

"Yowww!" he cried out. His Mistress chuckled and smacked him again.

With each strike of the crop, his skin tingled more and the fire inside him grew. This was not the hypnotic trance of the flogger; rather, this was the come-to-attention smack that woke his body.

The crop moved from his ass to the back of his legs, then up to his shoulders and upper back. There was no pattern he could detect, so he was constantly on edge about where the next blow would land. And speaking of "on edge", he was already rock hard from his Mistress's attentions.

The last few wallops that she landed caused him to howl, and that seemed to excited his Mistress very much.

"I need to touch your skin, Chris," she whispered, drawing close to him.

Her hands began to move all over his body, randomly. She reached around and stroked his chest...she ran her fingernails up the outsides of his thighs...she massaged his hips....stroked his beard....and held the front of her body against his back. His mind was a swirl of sensations.

"I've got something special for you now, Chris," she said, unfastening the chains that bound him and leading him over to the bed. "Sit for a moment."

He sat and watched her beautiful form cross the room to the cabinet. She stood, her back to him, and seemed to be manipulating something. Then she turned to face him and moved slowly toward him.

His eyes grew wide and he wasn't sure whether to grin or drop to the floor and beg for mercy. She was wearing a white harness, and protruding from it was a long...thick...candy cane!

"Oh...Mistress...", he stammered.

She smiled sweetly.

"I thought that after delivering all those gifts tonight, you should at least have your stocking stuffed, Chris," she chuckled.

He blinked a few times and chuckled, too.

"Anything you wish, my beautiful Mistress...and thank you for thinking of me!"

"Well, you're such a good boy, after all....now stand up and bend over, boy."

He did as he was told and bent over the edge of the bed. The smell of peppermint flooded the area, and he felt the cold tingling gel as his Mistress spread it over him.

"All mine," she growled and pressed against him.

He buried his face in the furry coverlet on the bed and groaned as she filled him with her special candy cane, driving into him like he drove the reindeer team into the dark of night.

"Oh yes, my boy," she murmured, "I'm going to ride you so hard you may end up in the barn next to Dasher!"

His head shot up as she pounded him, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Her intensity made the fire inside of him flare wildly until he felt his whole body burning for her. He raised himself to meet her thrusts, a primal sound rising from his throat.

"Yes, Chris...that's it...fly, boy, fly...." she instructed, taking him deeper and deeper.

He was screaming and begging without words, and she was urging him on, closer and closer to the edge.

For a moment, he found his words.

"Oh Mistress....Jessica....I...can't..."

"Now, boy...do it...for me," she commanded.

And suddenly, the cold air was blowing against his face...and he was flying...through the stars and beyond the moon...and the fire was pouring forth from his very soul and filling the space around him.

When he came to, he was not sure where he was. He moved only his eyes, and when he glanced to his right, there was his beloved Jess—in her nightgown and under the covers beside him. Every fiber of his being was warm and relaxed as he hunkered down and drew the covers up under his chin.

As his eyes closed, there was a soft kiss upon his cheek.

"Love you, Chris...can't wait for next Christmas!"