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Adeafening roar ofapplause, which put my brother’s launch to shame, exploded in the hall. The lights dimmed and on cue, a giant disco ball dropped. Strobe lights flashed above and confetti fell like a New York ticker-tape parade. A red and green laser show danced across the ceiling. The heavy beat of a loud techno song thumped through the hall, echoing just as the belts had.
Damn me—Donna knew her shit.
Out of nowhere, two strapping, Earth elves appeared on either of my sides. I raised my arms and held them out, keeping them firmly in place, as they tenderly took hold of me and raised me in the air. One leg bent—that much better to show off my legs—I allowed them to lift me and carry me through the cheering crowds. We led the excited parade of elves back to the Great Hall, where our party would take place.
The north Pole Complex had been designed in a circular grid pattern, the center being the Great Hall. Here, all the elves could relax and socialize on their days off. Donna had been stealthy in her party decorations, per her usual. Colorful ornaments filled with candles hung from the rafters, glinting off the ceiling, which had been thatched with golden shields befitting our race. Long tables, covered in white cloths and almost bowing under the weight of the food, crisscrossed the center. Different nooks provided comfy chairs where one could have a quiet chat. Or like tonight, a wild fuck. Rich, green velvet runners flanked the arched doorways leading down different hallways, which branched off to the elves’ quarters, the kitchens, stables, and workshops.
John Cougar’s cover ofI Saw Mama Kissing Santa Clausblared from the loudspeakers, ordinarily reserved for general toy-manufacturing communications, as we entered the common area. The elves carried me to the main staircase, lowering me carefully. They immediately knelt on the bottom step, sitting sideways on their hips, and beamed up at me. I gifted them each with a kiss on the top of the head, inhaling the sweet candy-scented skin of their race. Swaying my hips, pumped up by the authority and the sexy rock of the music, I sashayed up the stairs that led to the offices and Nick and my personal chambers. I stopped halfway up the gilded staircase and turned to gaze down upon my people, loving the ceremony of this night.
Donna appeared at my side, the red glitter binder from earlier in hand. A nervous energy sifted over the crowd and they quieted, anticipating what would come next—or more importantly who would be cumming with me tonight.
“Lady Frieda Claus, your Mistress and benevolent hostess of the entire day, has selected seven male candidates who will be given the honor of petitioning her for her esteemed affections on this night,” Donna announced, her tiny Ljósálfr body belting out the words.
At the announcement, the women realized they were not on the docket this year, and a subtle uproar started. Donna hadn’t been kidding. The girls were pissed. For over thirty years, I had preferred women in my bed, or at least a fifty-fifty split. Sometimes you felt like nuts, and sometimes you didn’t. This year I wanted to get lost in a sweaty man sandwich. Thankfully, Donna had positioned Olga close to console the poor dears. Well, there would always be next year.
My seven candidates stood before me, shirtless and oiled to perfection. Five of them were Dökkálfar, swarthy, thick, and handsome. Warrior types. A gorgeous Ljósálfr stood near the end of the line, all golden and lovely. Coming from the air, the Ljósálfar were generally waif-like, with light hair and eyes and this one was no exception. All of my candidates rose over six-foot except the seventh—Pip. However, he stood as straight and as proud as he could on the end, just looking all the smaller and cuter to me. I had a feeling he’d be in my final three, no matter what.
The first stage of the pageant would be the presentation of gifts and tokens of esteem. These men had prepared to woo me all year, even eating certain foods to enhance their delicious candy flavored cum. I loved this part of the night.
“Candidate one, Sir Falin,” Donna read from the list. “What have you gifted our Mistress?”
A strapping mocha-skinned Dökkálfr with black hair and eyes stepped forward. He hailed from a workman class, the scars on his knuckles proving it.
Sir Falin knelt before me, and with a sweeping gesture produced something shiny and long from behind his back. Anooohmurmured through the onlookers and I leaned forward, wondering if the man had made me a scepter.
Nope. Not a scepter.
A brass dildo.
Seriously?
“It is an exact replica of my penis. I made the mold myself, Mistress Frieda,” Sir Falin told me, quite proud of the craftsmanship.
Well, hehadshown ingenuity. He hadn’t left out a vein or a bulge. Even the base, with its two big orbs, looked realistic.
“How lovely.”
Only Donna knew me well enough to pick up on the sarcasm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pip smile. The cheeky little devil.
“Thank you,” I said. “Yourhardwork is evident.”
The crowd sniggered.
Sir Falin stepped back, and I whispered to Donna in an aside, “I guess I have all I need from him. If the prototype works, maybe we can put him on the list for next year.”
I tossed the dildo to Pip, who caught it effortlessly. “Keep hold of that for me, sweet cheeks.”
He grinned evilly, and I felt my belly stir with anticipation of how much fun he’d be tonight. Until I remembered he measured a smidge over five inches, and I wondered if it would be enough.
“Candidate number two, Sir Griffon,” Donna announced. “What have you brought the Mistress as a token of your esteem, and your plea to receive the privilege of being with her this most holy night?”
A tall, auburn-haired man with russet curls swirling down his bare torso and snaking darker beneath his snug emerald leather pants stepped forward—all of him the colors of the earth and rust and everything sensual about a sunset. But when he produced a lute, I had to suppress a groan.
I fucking hated sonnets.
But as he strummed his chords and broke into a surprising tenor, which didn’t suit his lumberjack physique at all, I forced a saccharine smile. He went on for about fifteen minutes, extolling the virtues of my beauty, generosity, and even a sly reference to the downy white hair concealing the gateway to his heaven.
AKA—my pussy.
