The Heroes' Bar-Santa's Tale

Author's Note: This is an entry in the Winter Holiday contest. If you are offended by silk stockings, very mild bondage, or puns please read no more. I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks to CateJ for the beta read and feedback.

The Heroes Bar - Santa's Tale

or

The Stockings were Hung by the Chimney with Ker

There is a large table in a nondescript bar located somewhere most people will never see. A very special group meets over this table, and recalls tales few have ever heard.

They are Heroes: folk of renown, doers of deeds, beings of myth and legend. Here they tell their own tales, particularly their less chronicled adventures. Lusty tales. Bawdy, naughty, nasty tales.

He stood up as tall as he could, leaned forward, and rested both hands on the Table. He was red, mostly, and round, with an impressive white beard.

The gathered Heroes gave him their full attention: no one wanted to appear on his Bad List. He was a potent reminder that not all heroes swing swords, wear breechclouts slung low over torsos festooned with lean muscles, and pose majestically. Most, but not all.

Santa Claus began. "Let's call this one 'Stockings Hung by the Chimney with Ker'.

"Oh, the trouble you can get into with permission to sneak into millions of homes late at night! And the creative ways people think of to tempt me into that trouble.

"The naughty and nice list: 'Oh, Santa, I've been baaad.'" St. Nick delivered the last part in a surprisingly successful seductress tone.

"Milk and nookie.

"That's not my stocking you're filling.

"Let's see whatcha got for me in that big full sack."

Each received increasingly larger groans and laughter from the Heroes around the Table.

"Stockings hung by the the chimney. Mmm.

"I've had more stockings by the chimney scenarios proposed to me than you can imagine. Fishnet, silk, nylon, thigh-high, wool and poly blend. You name it. But this one was special.

"The stocking were hung by the chimney and she was in them. She was wearing the most remarkable stockings, and they had been nailed to the wooden paneling alongside the stone chimney.

"These stockings had sewn in vertical ribbons of silk to support her weight. Or at least the part of her weight not on her toes. They had been nailed precisely to allow her to only reach the ground with her feet pointed acutely. And cutely. Face to the wall, her round bottom was on display to the room. And me. Her name was Ker. Short for Keri, I assume.

"She was tiny. Tiny plus tip-toes is just the right height for Santa." He pantomimed what exactly tiny plus tip-toes was the right height for, in case any in the audience were challenged by his rhetorical flourishes.

"If you haven't noticed, I don't have the biggest legs in this group, no calves like Hercules or thighs like Miles Gloriosus.

"Tiny in height, tiny frame, but it looked like some nice, full breasts pressed against the wall.

"Her round cheeks were spread just slightly by the way the stockings had been nailed by the chimney. She was trying to look over her shoulder, her sight restricted by the angle and by her hair, darkish blonde or lightish brown.

"I noticed they had used old-fashioned square nails. I thought that was a nice kinky touch. With no care taken to not damaging the wood. After those nails are removed the wood on that side of the chimney will look distressed at best. Thrashed more likely.

"Whoever had hammered in those nails knew how. At least 20 big old square heads had been struck four or five times each, none bent, and each driven in centered on one of the bands of silk ribbon. White like the rest of the stockings.

"Let me describe these stockings in more detail."

"Please do." Someone said. Laughter around the table.

"They had to be silk. Nothing else looks like that or feels like that. Fine white, they let Ker's tan skin show through, but much paler. The hose narrowed to a strip as they traveled up each cheek, attaching to a simple white belt around her very small waist."

Again Santa illustrated with his hands.

"Two stockings from toe to garter. One belt. She wore nothing else. Or almost. Back to that in a moment.

"Two things made these stockings distinct. And remember, I've delivered more stockings and stuffed way more stockings than most of you will ever sniff."

Again, laughs. Oohs.

"The first thing was, of course, the ribbons. Thin strips had been sewn in, running up each stocking from bottom to top. I could see three on the back of each leg, the middle one running up her Achilles and behind her knee, on the usual seam. The others ran parallel to that one, while accentuating the curves of her calf and thigh.

"The second thing was how the stockings were hung. They were not held up by the belt. They were holding up the girl. A fourth and fifth ribbon on each leg had been stretched away from her soft skin and pierced by the rectangular blades of the old-fashioned nails.

"I couldn't tell if the stockings had been carefully attached to the wall and then Ker somehow dropped into them, or if she was wearing them and perhaps standing on a low stool, then had the stool removed once she'd been hung. I don't have any idea what help she had, but if anyone did help her, they have my thanks."

"Our's too!" A deep voice called from near the foot of the Table.

"Either way, she was nailed to the wall, inches to the left of the chimney. I'd guess at least half her weight - which couldn't have been more than 90 pounds - was held up by the stockings. Her outstretched toes, covered in white silk, provided the rest of her support.

"Being supported this way kept her firmly pressed against the wall, especially her lower body. It also pulled her lovely little cheeks apart, as I mentioned. She obviously tanned without bottoms on. There were no lines to be seen.

"The only thing She wore, aside from the belt and the stockings, was a bright red ribbon. Not too big, the knot perhaps the size of my palm. Centered on the belt, right above that cute round perfectly-tanned bottom. Hand tied, with the two bow ends hanging just a bit down her crack.

"Now in my experience, my bountiful experience in uncounted homes late a night, most bare bottoms I see are not necessarily cute, attractively round, or evenly tanned. Especially all three.

"Even when I do happen to find all three in one happy package it's rarely so compact. And moving a lot of packages, I appreciate the compact ones.

"Now this package met all the above. Plus, it was tied up so nice, and with a red ribbon."

Santa gave that "What are you going to do?" shrug that every proper Hero understood.

"I have a full schedule that particular night," only a couple laughs: he uses that line to often, "but there's always leeway for milk and cookies, or whatever else might be left out for a jolly old elf.

"Before I start with any intimate human encounter, I go through the one ritual that they all want. The one thing that no encounter with the Sleigher-"

His emphasis on it cried out for harassment. Groans and chuckles, heads shaking. Samson, as usual not getting the pun, bellowed out, "Slayer! Ha."

Santa could handle the long-haired heckler. "Close sir, but no. Not 'Ha.' Ho. As in HO HO HO."

Heroes, godlings, and doers of the greatest of deeds alike looked stunned, mouths agape. Each HO had vibrated through them like a shock wave. Those standing had been knocked back a step or more. Wavy and flowing locks were all aflutter.

"As I was saying - no human encounter is complete without the Ho Ho Ho."

This time he let out a normal sort of Santa laugh, with just a hint of the Bowl Full of Jelly he had just hit them with. With this one, someone paying attention would feel vibration, the subsonic bass a mortal laugh shouldn't reach. More than one Hero, as they righted benches and stools, wondered just how loud his HO could go.

"I got down on my knees behind my gift. Or in front of it. Behind her. I ran my hands up her thighs, feeling the smooth sheer silk and the interspersed stitching for the ribbons. Then up over her smoother skin, stretched tight over the globe of each cheek. As my hands slid higher and wider toward her hips, they pulled those cheeks further apart.

"I glimpsed the wink of a brown eye, and then the lips below revealed a slight glistening. She was wet enough already to see it, without being touched. I heard her breath then quicken, and her little hips tried to wiggle in my hands. Her lower body was held immobile by the stockings themselves.

"As you all can tell, I have a beard. It can get cold in an open sleigh at night, in Winter, at very high speed. The wind chill is murder at altitude. That's why I am so famous for these jolly red cheeks. One of my few areas of exposed skin.

"The wind has also made my cheeks rather sensitive. I love the feeling of soft skin, or fur, or stockings, rubbing against my cheek.

"These stockings were cut perfectly for her. I ran a thumb over each round globe again. I traced the line where silk became flesh. Feeling every stitch and knot on one side of the line, each pore and near-invisible hair on the other. Again, I pulled her open a little extra.

"I pushed my face forward. Leaning right, I felt the sheer white silk first on my right cheek. Pressing in, my left cheek was also caressed by stocking. My nose felt a wedge of soft skin and I heard a whimper from above me just as the first ribbon seam on the inside of each leg slid by each cheek.

"I breathed out softly onto her. Another whimper. I blew harder, inching my face further in, her stocking seams pressing in on both sides. I felt her push back, straining toward the warm breath. Her rosebud bumped the tip of my nose and I could feel her shudder.

"I pushed forward, stuck my tongue out and licked. Bottom to top. She moaned loudly this time. Her eager lips opened immediately as that first lick traced the line between them. She tried to arch her back toward me but failed. She was held too tight.

"I gave her the same result by lowering my head a tad and nuzzling in between her legs. At the same time I grabbed low on both hips, more the upper thighs, as my palms spread over silk. I pulled those firm, tiny thighs toward my mouth as much as I could, considering how she was held.

"It was enough for my tongue to reach past her slit. I held her like that as she started to shake in my hands. I licked her slit deep, then slid up to probe the area of her swollen hood. The tip of my tongue slipped along the lower edge of that hood, barely reaching its captive.

Her shaking was joined by the slightest vertical movement as she started to bounce on her toes. She couldn't move much, but enough to feel those lovely buns rubbing my cheeks with her stockings, and allow my tongue punctuated visitation to various destinations.

"I let her bouncing guide me. My tongue went inside her, fucking her every time she dropped a little more onto her toes. She rose higher up and I slipped forward toward her hood, pressing my cheeks further between hers. When she dropped down from there, it forced the hood further up and over the sensitive nub. Her bouncing became more focused, keeping me on the spot.

"I felt her tense, her cheeks squeezing tight. I was especially aware of one ribbon seam pressed against my left cheek as she clenched.

"Her climax pressed her hips forward toward the wall, escaping the intensity on her most sensitive spot. It brought my tongue, with a little guidance from me, right to her tiny tight little rosebud, winking with each contraction as she came.

"I made no effort to penetrate her there, but flattened my tongue against her opening and pressed hard. I heard her first scream.

"Not loud, but the way I felt her flutter under my tongue, the way she writhed against the wall, the almost mournful cry from deep in her body signified the release I was looking for. Giving her the gift of giving in to the pleasure. She gave in to that sensation, knowing that she was being licked in that most private place, and whether she liked it or not, she was cumming harder than a mouth had ever made her cum.

"She was still shuddering as I stood and released my fly. I had a full schedule, after all.

"I lined up my head, dragging it with one hand along her slit. Once, twice, three times. The third time I felt the head bury inside her slippery wet lips and pushed.

"She was tight, very tight, but, again, I do have that schedule. I slid my whole length into her and held it there. I didn't need to hold her against the wall. She couldn't move. Her pussy pulsed up and down my shaft as her orgasm subsided, or so she thought.

"I started to move. In and out of that tiny little present, hung by the chimney just for Santa. I felt her tighten. I felt her pulsing begin to increase instead of easing. She seemed surprised, and the whimper was back.

"I wasn't surprised. Santa has a wide range of surprises in his well stuffed sack. A sack I needed to empty soon. In more ways than one.

"I started to push harder into her, appreciating again the way the nails held her petite frame at the ideal height for me. Her head was flopped back now against my shoulder as she mumbled. The pulsing around my cock had changed to a series of deep milking squeezes.

"I felt my balls tighten. I whispered in her ear, my lips barely brushing against her. I let her feel a little Ho Ho Hum, knowing that vibration would travel throughout her body, doing its special magic. "Cum for Santa. Make him cum inside your little sugar plum."

She did. They always do. I emptied Santa's special frosting into her, leaning my weight against her to support myself. I felt her explode, the contractions stronger than before inside her, her breath now ragged gasps.

"I pushed back upright, watching my cock slipping out from between those lovely tan globes. I turned to leave after assuring her she'd started off the next year on the Good List. Being a gentleman, I asked if she wanted help down. She declined. That reminded me of how she hadn't looked like she'd been up there long when I first came down the chimney.

"I asked her how she'd timed my visit so well. Ker just shrugged and giggled. 'I had hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be here'."

Groans from the audience. "Every time Nick tells a story, you know you're going to get a punch line. A bad one."

"Yeah, last year it was Mrs. Claus complaining he was ignoring her and being to Elf-centered."

Postlude

Ker slowly regained her breath. That was so intense. David had made an amazing Santa. She hadn't even heard him use the door, like he was really magic or something. Though he had been a little earlier than planned. She was glad she'd been ready in time.

A sound made Ker's breath caught in her throat. Was that the door? She distinctly heard the lock turn and the door swing open with a squeak. Then close and lock again.

"Ho Ho Ho." That was David. Why did he sound like David now? He'd sounded like a real Santa moments ago.

"Have you been a good little girl?" David was right behind her. She felt his familiar hands squeezing her ass cheeks before he slid down onto his knees. "Did you leave a treat out for Santa this year?"

Ker felt his scratchy rental beard push between her legs. Hadn't the beard felt soft before?

She felt David's long tongue slowly, languidly explore her slit. The tongue stopped, licked again. He pulled his face back from her.

"Mmm, babe," His voice had no trace of Santa now. "Damn, you taste good!"

He pushed his head back in for another taste then came back out. Ker could hear his smile even if she couldn't quite see it.

"What'd you do?" he asked. "Let a candy cane melt in there just for me?"

He buried his head once more against her, tasting her deeply, savoring her magical sweet juices.

The End

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! As this story is an entry in the Winter Holiday contest, if you enjoyed it, comments and votes are deeply appreciated.