Satan Santa

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Store employees are robbed (and more) by Santa.
5.8k words
4.15
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This takes a bit to get going, but the set up is important to the ending-- which remains somewhat of a mystery! Please vote, and please comment on what you think really happened! All the clues are there!

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A life in retail isn't so bad, if three things fall your way: you love what you sell, you have a great boss with whom you get along, and your wages are above poverty level.

Well, guess what? Everything *was* falling my way! It was the mid-80's. CDs were still on the rise, vinyl was on the wane, and cassettes pretty much owned the market. I liked several musical genres, and was well-versed in most of them. The ones I was weak in, other employees could cover me.

I was in my early 20s, making a salary in the low 20s (remember, this was the mid-80s, so that was pretty good for retail!) and my boss was really cool. I was pretty sure he liked me, though he seemed kind of shy. We'd been out a couple times on an ultra-casual level ( drinks with the whole gang, that sort of thing), but nothing more intimate. Personally, I wish that'd change, but it didn't appear he was going to make the first move. I was starting to think he was gay! I mean, I was no knock-out, but I'd turned a head or two. Add 20 pounds to Minnie Driver and she'd probably play me in my life story. But I digress.

It was Christmas eve, generally our busiest day of the year. The worst of the day was behind us, though, and things were winding down. It was 5:58; we closed at 6 today. I was on the floor helping a straggler when Tom approached me.

"Hey skip!" I called him that, sort of an in-joke. It's short for "Skipper." He was the captain, I was his first officer.

"Hey number one." The customer gave us a weird look. We didn't care. It was a Star Trek: TNG thing. Tom continued, "I'm heading down to the office real fast. Be right back. I'll lock'em when I return."

I nodded. That was SOP. We never kicked anyone out unless it was getting ridiculously late. As long as a customer entered before we officially closed, we let them shop. We simply locked up and made the doors "Exit Only" until the store emptied.

I convinced the guy I was helping to get the latest version of "A Very Special Christmas," which completed his purchases. As we headed to the counter to ring the transaction, Tom came back up from the office with a frown. I was about to ask him "what's up?" when he shook me off and mouthed "later" and he headed to the front door. I noticed that as he reached it, Santa Claus was entering. Tom let him come in.

"Santa" was a regular walk-in this season. That's all, just a walk-in. He never bought anything. He was an older man doing one of those donation buckets. I don't remember if it was Salvation Army or Toys for Tots or Make - A - Wish. Whatever. The poor guy was out there all day in the cold ringing his bell to convince people to Give! Give! Give! So Tom let him come in and warm up whenever he wanted.

I rang my customer up. Fortunately, he paid cash. I'd already made a deposit slip for the personal checks, including the sum total, and if he'd used one I'd've had to write up an entire new slip. Our bank was very persnickety-- no erasures, cross offs, or white out on deposit slips!

Tom let the customer out the door, then joined me at the elevated counter. We still had a couple things to do up here before heading downstairs to the office to cash out. Tom glanced at Santa, who seemed to be in his own world, then turned to me and said sotto voce, "Bill never made the S-47 deposit!"

Uh oh. Today was Sunday. Banks were closed. S-47 used the same bank we did, but they had broken their drop-bin key. So, for the past week or so while they awaited the red tape for a new one, they would bring their deposit bags to us after closing, and we'd do their deposit for them. Tom explained further, "I went to check the cash pulls in the safe and noticed stuffed in back was their Friday drop bag, behind their Saturday one that Charlie had dropped off with Bill last night!"

"Jay-zuz, and Charlie is on his way with the Sunday drop bag too! Did Bill do our deposit yesterday?" Tom shook his head no. "So we've got what down there-- 4 drop bags, soon to be 5 and 6?" Tom nodded.

Timing is everything, as just then Charlie came knocking on the front door. S-47 was in a mall across town and got to close at 5pm. We were free standing, and corporate wanted to suck out that extra hour of volume. Never mind we wanted to get home and start celebrating Christmas! (Actually, I had nowhere to go really and I don't think Tom did either. Hmmmm.... )

As Tom went to let Charlie in, I approached Santa. "Hey Santa, warming up?" He kind of nodded at me, and mumbled something in a gravelly voice. His voice was about the only thing that didn't fit his role-- the costume was spot-on, he had a full (fake) beard, and a roly-poly build. I glanced down into his donation bucket. "Good day?" I asked, nodding in its direction. He glanced down too and rasped something else unintelligible. Fortunately, Tom interrupted my having to suss out what Santa had said and saved me from having to reply.

"Charlie says have a nice holiday, Em," Tom said to me, then turned to Santa. "Santa, Merry Christmas and all, but we have to close up. Emily and I need to get to our families." ( No! I don't! Take me home! ) As Tom led him to the door, I heard Santa mumble something else in his rasp.

Tom froze in his tracks. "What?" he said. More mumbling, and Tom turned back to face me, ashen.

What the hell is Tom doing? Why is he. . .

Oh my god! Santa's packing heat! He was leading Tom back towards me at gunpoint and in that gravelly voice demanding, "Let's all be nice-nice and head to that office you have down there," he said, indicating the door to the basement.

I could tell from Tom's face this was serious. We complied, me leading the way as the three of us descended the stairs. "What do you want?" Tom asked, trying to maintain some control of the situation. I was surprised at the calmness in his voice. Me, I was about to pee my pants!

"Shut up fucker," Santa growled. (That voice will haunt me forever now. It was barely a rasp.) We'd reached the basement and were standing outside the door to the office. There was another door opposite the office that led to a secure storage area for product, and a third door to the back room, which led to a final room that we called the way-back room, used for non-secure storage. The way-back room also had the store's only rest room, and it had a circuit breaker box we used to shut the external lights.

We reached the bottom of the stairs, and milled around in the middle of the three doors. Santa waved the gun at Tom. "Give me your cell phone." Tom complied. Why didn't Santa ask for mine? I didn't have one, but how could he possibly know that? Santa then gestured with the gun again. "You, go turn off outside lights." He saw Tom eyeing the revolver. "I'm not afraid to use this," he warned. "I just did a stretch for manslaughter. Prison doesn't scare me anymore." Tom was still reluctant, but I nodded at him.

"Tom, please. Let's just do as he says. You won't hurt us, will you Santa? If we're nice, not naughty?"

He turned to look at me. I was desperately trying to get a description of his face burned into my memory for a police sketch artist, but the fake beard was too full, the hat too concealing. "Are you mocking me?" It was almost a growl.

I blanched. "No! I'm sorry. Just... nervous." I turned to Tom again. "Please, do as he says!"

"You have a smart assistant, Tom" Santa said. "Oh, and I know how long it takes to kill all the lights. 20 seconds, tops. 15 if you hurry. Let's say we shoot for 13?" Tom's face fell. I could tell we'd had the same idea, and Santa had thought of it too. He chuckled evilly. "Sorry, there'll be no SOS's clicked to the passing traffic. Now MOVE IT!"

Tom continued looking back as he went through the door to the back room. "You won't touch her?" Santa looked at me. "Not my type." Barely reassured, Tom went off to follow instructions. Santa looked at Tom's receding figure. Was he scoping out his ass? Well, he did say he'd been in prison. . .

Santa turned his attention back to me. "In the office. I know you know the safe combination." I nodded, and as we entered the small room, we could already hear the ::click!::click!::click!::click!:: of Tom throwing the breakers. The safe was in the corner next to the desk. I started to kneel down to open it, but we already heard Tom on his way back. "Wait, we'll let the Manager do it." Wordlessly I stood up, awaiting further instructions. "Stand over there facing the wall," Santa told me, as he himself stepped outside the office, awaiting Tom's return.

Facing the back wall of the office, I could hear Tom stop short as he came through the back room door. "In there," that UGHvoice ordered. Tom's footfalls entered. "Stand behind her. Have her kneel down on the floor." Oh my god! What was he planning? Was he going to rape me? As I knelt down, I wanted to tell Tom, if rape was inevitable, to just let it happen. Santa didn't seem to have any qualms about causing us harm if we went against him. But there was no way to get that across without Santa hearing.

I could hear Santa's costume rustling. Oh no, was he unzipping? Please, no...

"Here, bind her wrists with this." I gave a sidelong glance back and could see he was handing Tom one of those plastic ties used by police when they ran out of cuffs. By now I was kneeling and Santa commanded, "Hands behind your back!" I obeyed. But, there was a delay. "What are you waiting for?" Santa demanded.

"I've never used these before. Can I wrap her wrists in a towel first? I don't want to cut into her skin." Inwardly, I smiled. Despite the horror of the situation, Tom was still thinking. Santa must've nodded or something, because I felt a towel, then the plastic zip cord. WOW! Tom made it really tight. But at least with the towel, all it did was immobilize me. There was no pain. Better to be safe than... yup, I heard Santa approach, and checked the binding. He grunted approval.

"OK, stay on your knees, but kiss the floor," he told me. To Tom, "Now use this one and bind her ankles." He could sense our mutual discomfort I guess; I certainly hesitated, and Tom must've also, because Santa suddenly screamed hoarsely, "NOW!" I bent over slowly, putting my face to the floor. Thankfully, we kept a tidy office. That was the good news. The bad? I was wearing a seasonal outfit, looking elfin, with a short red skirt and knee-high boots. Bent over, the skirt rode all the way to the top of my thighs. I don't think I had too many secrets!

I could feel Tom wrapping the plastic strap around my boots, and *ZIP*ping it tight. There was a slight delay, then I felt hands (Santa's I'd have to assume) checking how secure they were. After he tugged on them, he slid his hands up the back of my legs. I almost retched. "Come on, you don't need to..." Tom began.

SMACK! I heard a dull thud, and Tom cried out. "Shut up!" Santa scolded harshly. "I told you I've been in prison until recently. I haven't felt pussy in years. I wasn't gonna do anything, just cop a feel. But now you've pissed me off! So maybe I'll take some action before I leave after all." I started to tremble when I heard that. Please, please, please, let me get through this. Give me the power to zone out if it comes to that.

"On to my main goal here," Santa continued. "Open the safe now. Slowly." In order to do this, Tom had to get down close to me, as I was on the floor right next to it, my face kind of shoved into the corner. Thankfully we had carpeting down here! I heard the tumblers going back, forth, back again, forth one more time. *click*click*

*thunk* Thunk! THUNK!!

The safe didn't open.

"Shit," Tom said. "Sorry. I'm nervous."

"Maybe if you were paying attention to the numbers on the dial instead of trying to peek at her cunt hairs poking around that stretch of panties you'd have more success," Santa said.

Oh my god, was Tom really sneaking a peek?

"I'm not..!" Tom began to protest.

"No, but one of us is," Santa joked.

Asshole. I almost retched again. I felt so violated.

*click*THUNK* squeeeeeak...* Tom had it open. "Great! Now, give me the drop bags." I could hear Tom rustling around inside, but could see nothing since the door opened in my direction and totally obscured my vision.

"*And* the ones the other manager dropped off just before you closed. Come on, don't get fancy." More rustling. "Now the drawer pulls." Each of these demands found their way into Santa's bag. "Is that everything?"

"Yes. Well, except for the coin rolls." Good. Tom was being totally honest now, I hope Santa understood that.

"Ok," Santa agreed. "Now your stash in back. Let's go."

"Stash? What are you talking about?" Tom sounded confused. Good, because so was I. What stash?

"And you were doing so well. COME ON! All managers have a secret stash of sly drawer skims. Recycled receipts, self-redeemed coupons, flip-flopped returns. Let's go. I know where it is."

"But... OOF!" Tom's protests were cut off as Santa forced him to lead the way, returning to the back room. I could easily hear their voices through the walls, which were so thin it's like they weren't even there.

"I promise you, we don't have anything like that," Tom tried to assure the robber. We really didn't! I'd never even heard of such a thing.

"Look, I know these things usually build up to a couple hundred bucks, especially around the holidays. Now where is it?"

Tom sounded angry now. "WE DON'T FUCKING HAVE ONE! Besides, what's a couple hundred to you? You have our six bank bags and today's drawer pulls. You're probably pushing twenty, maybe twenty-two thousand dollars there!" There was a slight pause, then Santa mumbled something. "Yes," Tom responded, "someone slipped up and didn't make deposits this weekend. Each bag probably has three or four thousand in cash."

"OK," Santa said. "Keep your stash. SHUT UP!" Tom must've begun to deny it again. "You can keep your stash, but it'll cost ya. I want a blow job. In prison I rarely got one, they always made me give."

"No way! So far it's just armed robbery. Forcing Emily to do something sexual will escalate charges against you. Please just leave us alone now, you got what you wanted."

Tom, you're sweet for defending me, but shut up! Let Santa run things!

Santa had the same idea. "First off, genius, charges don't matter. I'm not going to get caught. Second, did I say Emily? I was in prison, stupid. I changed teams. You're the one who's going to suck me off."

There was another pause before Tom responded. "No way. Just leave. Besides, it's been awhile. The alarm company will be calling soon, asking how much longer."

"I don't think so," Santa countered. "Don't you remember I've been watching this place? I've seen you leave up to an hour after closing. It's only been about 10 minutes."

Santa had called the bluff, but Tom was quick. "Right, because we call for an extension, which we didn't do." Nice ad-lib, Tom! My hero!

Again a delay as Santa mulled this over. Then, "Hmm, maybe. Problem is, I'm really horny. I guess if the alarm company calls, I can leave then! You can convince them you're okay, right? If you want to live, that is."

SunuvabitchBASTARD. Nice comeback.

What he said made me think, though. For the first time I was wondering if we *would* get out of this alive. If he forced Tom to perform sodomy, the stakes really went up. I started to well up a little. NO! Stay strong, don't cry. You need all your faculties if Santa comes after you next.

"So, let's see your goodies. Strip," Santa demanded.

"Why the hell should I..."

Santa cut him off. "Would you rather *lick* me to a woody? Seeing your package will turn me on." I heard rustling, as well as Tom muttering. Then, "Well, what a nice little cock you have. So suckable. Tempting. But today's my turn."

My thoughts were racing. I felt so bad for Tom! I wanted him to please just deal with it and get it over with. I wanted to shout out to him, "Sucking cock isn't so bad! In fact it's awesome! It can be a rush when you feel the pulse of the orgasm as the balls release their jizz!" Santa's coarse voice interrupted my reverie again.

"Wow, do I smell splooge? Let me see something." I head clothes rustling again. "Is this a fresh stain on your shorts?"

"Ummm...." Tom began. But clearly he was at a loss for words.

"Don't you shower and put on fresh... oh my... HAHAHAHA!" Why was Santa laughing? "You had a wank! Today at work! Tell me about it." There was silence for a few seconds, then Santa yelled, "TELL ME!"

"I, uh... I haven't gotten laid in awhile, and during the day I got hard and it, unh, wouldn't go down. I had to relieve myself. I couldn't hide it forever."

"Oh, lucky you, now I'm really getting hard, this is exciting. Why'd you get hard? Some hot customer? No, once she left you should've gone soft. OH! It wouldn't have anything to do with Emily's hot and sexy seasonal outfit, would it?"

Oh my God! Would it? Did I give Tom A STIFFIE?

"That's it, isn't it Tommy boy? Seeing her all day wearing that short elf skirt and high boots had you sporting wood! Tell me what you thought about when you had your wank."

That's the second time he'd used that term. Isn't that British? Oh, Tom, why did I have to find out like this?

Tom was reluctantly talking now, his voice trembling. "I came down here to the bathroom when Em was on the floor with our cashier, Dan, and business had slowed down a bit. I dropped my pants and beat off. I sprayed into the sink, but some got on my hand, and dripped down onto my shorts."

"FEH! I didn't want a play by play. What were you *thinking* about?"

Another delay. "She can hear me."

"I don't care. It's turning me on. You too, I could hang the entire shelter's laundry on that stiffie you're sporting!"

Tom sighed. "I didn't have a lot of time, but when I closed my eyes I pretended I was lying on my back and she was bouncing up and down on my prick."

"And..?" Guess Santa wanted to hear more.

"And what?"

"How'd it feel?"

"It was a whack! It felt like my hand!"

"No, how did you *imagine* it felt? Come on, fess up, don't make me use this gun."

Again Tom delayed, then sighed. "Her pussy was soft, wet, and warm as it slid up and down my prick." (O MY Gawd, I was getting wet!) "We were in sync, as she went up, I pulled back, as she came down I thrust up hard into her, as I went balls deep up her cunt on every thrust." There was another delay. "I think I shouted her name when I came, and when I came, I shot like a rocket. I pretended I was pumping my come deep into her cunt."

Holy shit, when Tom had gone down to use the bathroom and left me in charge of the register, there was one point I thought Dan had called me from the floor, but he had said it wasn't him. The employee bathroom was right below the cashwrap! I must've heard Tom when he orgasmed! God help me, I was getting HOT!

"And it still excites you," Santa said. "Look at you, you're dripping pre-cum. Here..."

"What are you doing? Please don't touch ... what am I supposed to do with that?"

"Lick my finger. Surely you've tasted yourself before."

"No, never."

"Trust me, it's not so bad. Next time you have a wank, 'Spare the tissue, swallow the issue.' Lick the splooge off your hand Some of it even tastes good."

Or let me, Tom! Let ME! LET ME!

"OK, on your knees. Time to pray. And you'd better pray goooood..." Geez. Figures the dickwad would be a "Deliverance" fan.

I heard some more movement, then what sounded like... yes, that could be the beginning of oral sex.

"Hey!" Santa shouted. "Careful with those teeth. I'll pistol whip you if you suck at sucking." He must've thought that was incredibly witty as he chortled at that comment. A moment later, once again, I thought I could hear oral ministrations, and Santa resumed grunting and groaning.

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