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Calista Takes the Crown
IknowIhaveto be strong, keep pushing back and asking for what I want or I’ll never get off that damn assembly line. But Big Nick’s tongue lavished enough pleasure on my pussy to nearly melt my spine, and now his thick dick is slamming into me, and so help me, all I want is to be his good girl. His very naughty, good girl.
This is all so confusing, not at all the way I had planned it. My brain has more crossed wires than the electronic toys I send down the line for the next elf to fix. Is this too much acquiescence or do I still have the upper hand here? Did I ever really? Why does sex have to make everything so complicated? And why does it have to feel so good?
I jut my ass back to meet his next thrust, and his fingers dig into my narrow hipbones. He’s so big and so strong—everything you’d expect from a guy whose actual name is Big Nick. My pussy gets wetter just thinking his real name. When I think of him as Santa, I just want to be a brat, and disobey his every order. But when he becomes Big Nick in my mind, that’s when everything gets fuzzy. And warm. I still want to be a brat, but my motivation is entirely different.
He fists my hair and pulls so hard my neck snaps back. No one has ever done that to me before. I think I like it. “Pull harder.”
He yanks with more force, andholy snowballs! Yeah, I like it a lot. And so does he. His final few thrusts are delivered with grunts that make him sound practically feral. I’m grateful he finishes when he does because despite all the natural lubrication my body has churned out, a budding soreness was intensifying with his every stroke. I’m elf-small and he’s . . . well, Big-Nick-big. Totally worth it. No regrets, but I need to get my wits about me.
His hands are heavy on my shoulders as he pushes me to my knees. “Clean me. Taste your flavor mixed with mine and describe it to me.”
My good girl urge is back in full force. I drag my tongue up the underside of his still partially hard cock, and at first all I can taste is my own peppermint essence. But then a mellow but rich sweetness seeps in. I take his dick halfway into my mouth and draw my cheeks in to suck and savor. Our eyes lock and his challenge for me to determine his flavor flickers like a flame. I slide my mouth back to respond, but I’m still questioning myself. “Is it . . . marshmallow?”
He smiles but shakes his head. “No, try again.”
I throat him fully this time, which does nothing to increase my ability to discern his taste, but works wonders to stiffen him back up to ramming capacity. The minty overtones are subsiding. Sliding my head back until I can speak around his girth stretching my jaw, I say, “Vanilla?”
His hand returns to my hair and he pulls from close to the scalp. “No. Try harder.” He guides my head, not letting me go too far, making sure I’m taking him in and out over my tongue, his engorged veins pulsing against my tastebuds.
It takes a few more minutes for the mint to dissipate entirely, but when it does, I excitedly pull off his dick, spittle running from my watering mouth as I smile up at him. “It’s caramel. That’s my absolute favorite flavor in the whole world!”
“I know. Be a good girl every day and I’ll let you taste it whenever you want.”
“You’ll let me taste it even when I’m a brat. And you’ll still lick me to orgasm, too. Because we are each other’s favorites. You can’t hide the truth from me any longer.”
“Why, you brazen little slut!”
“Honestly, I think that’s another one of your favorite things about me.”
He pulls my hair again, glaring at me as if he’s never been so angry, and then he fists my hair in both hands, brings my head forward, and begins to savagely fuck my mouth. I exhale to quell my gag reflex because there’s no way he’s besting me here.Do your worst, Santa, baby.
I win this round. He stands spent and panting before me in his kitchen, looking bigger and better than ever.
He throws me over his shoulder like his sack of presents and carries me to his bedroom. I bounce against his firm mattress when he drops me there, but it sinks under his considerable mass when he joins me. Lying on his side, he toys with the titanium bars in my nipples. “I didn’t get to play with these yet. If you were my official personal plaything, I’d toy with them anytime I wanted.”
“You could toy with them anytime Iletyou.”
“That mouth.” He shakes his head. “I see we’ve still got some work to do with your behavioral therapy.”
“My reform will be a full-time job. But I will be very devoted to the effort.” I stretch, pulling my shoulders away and causing him to pull on my piercing. He refuses to let go, pinching just under the bar to watch the swelling it causes.
His eyes go glassy and his smile turns wicked. “These are fun.”
“It takes a very long time for an elf to grow old. My aging is already slowing down. I will have this lithe, firm body for decades. But you already know that, don’t you?”
“I’m Santa. I know everything there is to know about elves.”
“Lie on your back so you can show me how much you know.” He does as I’ve asked and I crawl up to straddle his face.
He grips my ass to halt my descent, keeps my flavor factory hovering just above his beard. “Calista, I can give you more orgasms than you can handle, but I cannot give you what you most want. You will always be an elf. And I have to keep you on the assembly line. Pulling you off to be at my side in some forbidden capacity we could never name? The optics, babe. They wouldn’t be great.”
“Suit yourself. But my performance there will never improve.”
He sighs and lets his head sink deeper into the pillow. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Big Nick can do whatever he wants with me.”
