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“Yes,” he affirmed with delight. “I’ve been a bad, bad Daddy this year. But I still intend to unwrap my present and play with it until it breaks.” I felt the scratch of his beard on my neck and heard him gush in one breath, “Goddamn you smell good enough to eat.” I writhed in dewy expectation and my little anklet bells jingled all the way.
The smoothness of my slim legs was denied from his touch by my stockings, but he tugged the sleek fabric with approval and began to make small circles on me from calf to thigh with his fingertips. Each time he got closer to my panties before traveling back down. When he finally raked his knuckles over my crotch he was clucking with impatience. “Not nearly wet enough, little girl. Santa likes his baby girl clad in very, very wet velvet. We’ll have to get back to those panties later. My work is clearly not even begun yet.”
With a whimper I felt him take hold of the straps of my bra in his meaty hands; he yanked on either side of the seam until the shoulder strap ripped out of place. After repeating this on the other side, he tore my bra off completely. I made a pouting face in response to his treating my pretty costume so ungraciously, but it’s hard to remain convincing with Daddy. He knows I love it when he’s rough.
“That’s better. Let Daddy get a look at these little titties,” he panted slightly, and I knew it wasn’t from over-exertion. “My, my my, these aren’t very big at all.” I felt his hand dwarf my tiny breasts. The little bumps that dotted the outer circle of my swelling areolas pimpled in response. “These little titties won’t do at all. I wonder if I can pull on them and make them grow?” I hummed with anticipation and felt his thumbs and forefingers gripping down on either side of my little nubs.
I gasped sharply when he pulled a little harder than I’d been expecting. “Yeah, Daddy’s little slut wasn’t ready for that, was she?” he crooned, twisting next, so roughly a sputtering cry rang from my lips.
He let go for a second, fishing on the floor beside the bed. “I can see you’re going to be a noisy slut tonight. That’s okay. Daddy can fix that.” My velvet bra was stuffed into my pomegranate mouth. I fussed and squirmed.
“There we are. Now you can scream all you want to, baby girl, while Daddy tries to make these little tittes grow.” He tugged and twined, clamping his fingers on the over-sensitive centers until I was screaming into my makeshift gag, tears of real pain dripping down my cheeks – which I was certain were just as red as my velvet.
He leaned back, surveying his handiwork. “Better,” his face shone with more than his customary jolly smile. “No, not just better – perfect. They’re all puffy and swollen and tender and red and -- sublime.” The gag left my mouth. His hand slid back possessively over my crotch. I was soaking through the panties, but I could see he wasn’t done playing.
“Is this as wet as you get for Santa?” he sighed, shaking his head as if I just wasn’t trying. “Maybe I should go find another slut who wants to be Santa’s fucktoy…”
“No,” I whimpered. “Please, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl. I’ll be better.”
His face was full of warmth. It wasn’t just the jolly curse. We couldn’t ever stop beaming at each other. It’s hard to look at the face you love unequivocally with anything other than complete adoration. Yeah, it was obvious why Jules wanted us to stay low-profile for a while. It got so intense between the two of us we could sometimes make ourselves sick.
“Princess,” he breathed softly, traces of pipe tobacco and spearmint tickling my nose. “If you ever get better you’ll be the death of your Daddy.”
I squirmed with an enchanted thrill when he leaned forward to kiss me. My apple breasts nestled firmly into his downy chest hair and the draw of it teased my tender nipples. Still, I got lost in that first kiss the way I got lost in every one of his kisses. Reaching above me, he yanked my hands free of their ribbons and I felt him suck my bottom lip into his mouth. When he bit I yelped and then purred and gave him my tongue, moving it slickly back and forth along the inside of his cheeks.
We wrestled and writhed, his heft making me feel small and child-like beneath him. Belly to belly we wove our fingers together and held hands, my face rubbing back and forth against his soft beard as I breathed in small gasps from the force of his weight.
“Am I your favorite girl, Daddy?” I whispered seductively.
“You’re Daddy’s best girl,” he moaned into my mouth. “You’re Daddy’s perfect little slut.”
I shuddered and arced up to him like a bow, my body as firm as a tightly-threaded guitar string. “I have a present for my Daddy,” I purred into his ear. Taking his hand I wedged our fingers between our bodies – his pulpy fist and my slender digits both wiggling to find purchase. Slowly, calculatingly, I pressed his hand flat against the velvet of my panties. They were lathered and soaking with my juice.
“Am I wet enough for my Daddy now?”
He answered me with a near-animal roar and wrenched my panties from me by grasping the crotch hard. I’d put little snaps on the sides for a reason. The last time he’d ripped off a pair of my panties, he’d etched a fabric burn into my bikini line that had taken a week to heal even with magical cover-up. Jolly old souls rarely knew their own strength.
“Bald for me, you little whore,” his deep-throated declaration was praise, not scolding. “Oh god, so small, so young, so tight, so smooth and so very, very wet.” He repositioned so that his knees were taking more of his weight and he could lift off me to feel me better. His round belly still bulged against my middle as did the stiffening, uncircumcised shaft that wagged below.
His hand engulfed my entire pussy from bald mound to puckered little bottom hole – his fingers testing and teasing at the crack of my ass while the heel of his hand parted my outer lips by grinding back and forth. I was dripping down his wrist. Damn, but he made me so impossibly wet.
“That’s right. Open up for Daddy. Open up and let Daddy…” he stopped for a second, stiff as a post while I nibbled my bottom lip and smiled coyly. “You hot little whore,” he croaked hoarsely. “You made yourself so tight and little just to drive me crazy, didn’t you?”
I blushed, unable to help myself and spread my smile into a Cheshire cat grin. “A tight, little virgin just for you, Daddy.” At my words he threw his head back and howled out so raw and basic a roar that no mortal would have even been able to hear the sound. But there was little doubt that dogs and wild animals in Los Angeles were barking at their fences in sympathy and confusion.
Yeah, I still knew how to push his buttons.
He was panting as he eyed me with that irresistible combination of violent lust and complete tenderness. Even without mind-reading powers, I knew what he was thinking. He wanted to be face down in my pussy. Wanted to lick and slurp and suck from me like an ancient soldier quaffing a draught from an overflowing wineskin. Likewise, he wanted to be in my mouth. To stuff his thick erection into my lips and plunge toward my throat – to hear the sound of me sputtering and gagging and trying to be a good girl while he forced his way in.
But the greedy lust was blazing in his face. Daddy wasn’t a “save the best for last” kind of fellow. He had a major instant gratification complex. The idea of breaking me in was a treat we didn’t indulge in often enough to let wait.
It had been selfish of me. I’d wanted him hard and fast, so I’d exploited the novelty of being a virgin. It played to Dad’s primitive instincts. I mean, they used to sacrifice real virgins to him for a reason, after all. Still, it wasn’t a part of our regular play and probably qualified as cheating. Sometimes you have to save a thing or two for special occasions.
I wanted to see if I could get away with teasing him a bit before the rumble of flesh that would numb both our heads. Reaching down I grasped his cock in both hands, pulling up and down, playing with the foreskin and then tickling down under his heavy balls. He usually loved it when I played with him; I’d spent many an hour with my tongue lapping wetly under that weighty ball sac or getting my face sloppy with oozing precum as I choked him down my throat. But I loved my hands on him best of all. To be able to look directly in his eyes and feel him throbbing in my fingers; I loved feeling the power of him swell into a hungry stalk. It was the feeling of your hand on the clutch while a heavy metal hot rod shifts into fifth gear. He revved and I revved with him.
“Enough, you teasing little slut,” he growled, grabbing my wrists and pinning me hard, his full weight knocking the breath out of me for a second. The head of his cock was slapping the swollen outer lips of me, but his belly kept him from pushing inside. Panting and leaning back on his knees, Daddy grabbed my legs and spun me.
It was an awkward position, but it was his favorite. Twisting me onto my side, he lifted my top leg forward and up onto his shoulder. I was split open so lewdly wide, it was almost painful – the muscles that connected my leg to my torso vibrated like a tuning fork. It allowed him to scoot up until our crotches were grinding.
I held on to the headboard and bit my bottom lip again.
He had to hold himself to get inside me. I grinned against the thrust, listening to the wetness of my pussy clench and resist while he panted and pushed.
“Fucking hell, baby girl, did you have to be this tight?” It wasn’t a complaint. But he was really working at it to get inside me. When the head finally pulsed its way inside, there was a grunt of ruddy satisfaction and then I heard his moan. “Take it you hot little bitch. Take it all.”
There was very little choice. From the moment he first felt my tightness, he turned feral. The lusts of thousands of years were at his beck and call and he humped like a rutting creature in demented heat. Ripping though my maidenhead, spreading my raw, virgin inner flesh. Tearing through tightness and tenderness and soft, swollen, cushioned muscle. My sinews screamed. My lips followed suit and my bra was stuffed hurriedly back into my open, howling mouth.
It hurt up into my belly, mostly because it felt like his cock was stabbing in there. I was rigid with the pain as he pushed one hand on my tummy and the other on my ass, settling into a brutal plunging rhythm. It wasn’t enough to knife that monster of a cock inside my little body, he had to grind it in and make sure the walls of my cunt absorbed the pain and shock of him stimulating them. It was deliberate and somewhat cruel, like digging your finger into a purple bruise, but he was too forgone to register it.
Being on my side allowed him to dig in deep to me. To flex fully inside. Ordinarily his belly would have prevented this, so I was somewhat out of practice when the throbbing pain took it up a notch. Once he had stretched my pussy to take most of his girth, he leaned all his weight forward and I felt myself rip a few inches deeper. Tears christened a new round of screaming.
“You - tight- little- fuck,” each word was separated by heavy panting and gasping. “Daddy’s - tight – little – fuck.”
I squeezed my body up tight, clenching to squeeze his cock more. The pain knocked the breath out of me, but I got what I wanted, Daddy threw his head back and came inside me with jet-propelled force.
He fell forward onto his forearms, huffing and puffing like a big bad wolf and groaned deeply into my hair. My pussy was gooey and overflowing with him and my entire body was twitching with that hyper awareness of pain-pleasure.
We stayed like that for a short time, his big Daddy prick splitting my façade of a little girl puss. His heft hovered over me with my leg at a dangerous angle to keep me spread so wide. He moved his face up close to mine and pulled the bra from my mouth once more. Deep, tongue-twined, loving kisses that lasted ten minutes; I fed off those kisses. We got lost for a while in the moment. Just touching. Feeling each other’s pain. Riding the endorphin high.
When he leaned back away from me, he was still rigid inside me, and had no obvious intention of withdrawing. Which was fine. The minute my insides were able to contract they were going to swell and he was likely never going to be able to get back in. Well, not in this body.
Pulling my leg off his shoulder, he did a little creative maneuvering and I ended up on top of him, straddling his tree-trunk thighs and beer-gut biker belly. Without words, he pushed up on my shoulders until I was squatting on his cock, rolled back onto my heels and whimpering.
It hurt. It had to hurt. There was no more room inside me, but he kept force-feeding his cockflesh into my cunt. He pushed so hard and deep up into me I thought if I looked down I’d see the skin of my tummy bulge in a shape that resembled the head of his cock. I felt so stretched open – too stretched open. And I never felt comfortable on top. But his face, shining with sweat was also wicked with delight.
”Daddy, I’m not good at this,” I tried to wiggle my way down so that he’s climb on top again.
“You’ll be good at what Daddy tells you to be good at,” he rasped back, slapping my ass lightly as he spoke and sitting me back up roughly.
My legs were too slim and small to comfortably straddle his girth; it made it impossible to keep balance. His hands on my hips guided and directed everything, and I felt myself start to bounce.
I was squishy wet and come-filled, but even that messy lubrication didn’t change the fresh ache of my newly broken-in body. Every time his cock slammed up into the back of my cunt, I winced and yowled. Sweat-soaked I jimmied my hips back and forth, up and down, grinding in circles. Anything to get him to come again and let me get into a position that wasn’t so painful.
He stopped then, holding me down hard with his full erection splitting up into my no-longer-virgin tightness. “Are you Daddy’s little whore?”
“Daddy, it hurts,” I whimpered softly.
His broad hand cracked on my round little ass. His hand was so big it practically covered both cheeks. “I didn’t ask that,” he said.
“But…Daddy…”
Another rough spanking. Then another.
“Oww! Yes!” I cried, tears on my cheeks. “I’m Daddy’s little whore.”
Grinning a heroin-addict’s smile, he started bouncing my small body on him again, “Let me hear it, my little slut.”
“I’m – Daddy’s – little – whore,” I ground out through the pain. Each time I spoke he shoved his shaft up into me harder, punctuating each word with a stab of cock.
“Again,” he growled. “Let me hear you beg, you little bitch.”
“Please,” I cried, “Please make me Daddy’s little whore.”
“Again.”
It was too much. “Daddy, it hurts,” I was sobbing softly, remembering why we did this so rarely. Little bodies were a maintenance hassle.
A tone of not-quite sympathy came into his voice and he stilled his cock within me. “Poor sweet little slut,” he spoke slowly, touching my tears with his fingers. “Does it hurt when Santa fucks you, little girl?”
“Y…yes.”
“Do you want to get off Santa’s lap?”
“P…p…please, Daddy. Yes. It hurts.”
Holding my hips in both hands, he tugged me up, lifting me wholly off his cock. I felt my body instantly begin to flush and swell, come gushing from me.
“You’re a sloppy little bitch, aren’t you?” he smirked, rolling me onto my stomach and climbing behind me.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Does that feel better?” he asked slowly. His tone suggested he was up to something.
“So much better, Daddy.”
It happened so wretchedly fast. My ass was in the air and he was fucking into my pussy from behind. I was swollen up so tight he nearly couldn’t get inside, but he merely hammered and hammered and hammered until my outer lips were as raw as my insides. I barely heard the gurgling pleasure of his grunting over my own shocked screams, which I muffled into the fluffy pillows that I had to bite into. It stung like hell and I didn’t just feel hurt, but shattered and broken. The flurry of vicious thrusting culminated into a heaving plunge that felt as though he’d shoved his way directly into my womb. Holding the pressure there he waited for my gut-wretched screeching to calm.
“Hurts, doesn’t it, baby girl?”
I couldn’t answer. It hurt too much to talk. A rough slap painted another handprint onto my white little ass. “I said, it hurts, doesn’t it, baby girl?”
“Y…yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I croaked hoarsely.
He shoved once more. I wailed again, weakly.
“Do you want me to stop hurting your pretty little raw cunt?” he asked without pity.
“Yes. Oh God yes. Please, Daddy. Please stop.”
Reaching under me he grabbed hold of my little puffy tits and pulled them hard. I screamed in fresh agony. Then he was kissing the back of my neck, turning my face, kissing my tears.
“Daddy’s going to make it stop. But not until his little girl proves what a dirty little whore she really is.”
The pain had muddled my thoughts, so even though I winced while he squeezed my small tits in his huge hands, my tears abated. “H…how, Daddy?”
His mouth slanted over mine and kissed me thoroughly while his hands were all over me. He touched me everywhere, cock-deep and throbbing in my tight, tender hole. When he was done he leaned back and I felt one hand covering my bald mound as the other tickled back over my ass.
“You’re going to come while Daddy hurts you,” he informed me with a smile. “You’re going to come on my cock like the sweet little sexy bitch you are.”
I shook my head, not to disobey, but to communicate it wasn’t possible. “Daddy, it hurts too much, I’m too raw, I can’t…”
He cut me off by fucking forward. “Don’t – tell – me – what – you – can’t – do,” every word was a deeper, harder shove into my tight, sore, abused puss. “You’re going to come like the filthy little whore you are.”
I writhed beneath him. He was shoving harder than ever, but now one hand was strumming against the lips of my pussy while the other expertly made circles around the pucker of my asshole. Damn, but Daddy was always good with his hands. It’s easy to focus on the big Santa magic powers and forget the little ones. So, I didn’t blame myself too hard for forgetting he was ambidextrous.
I fought it for a while, certain that I couldn’t manage an orgasm while in the throes of such anguish. Tried to fake it, but he knew. He always knows.
Agony and ecstasy feel so far apart until they’re both right on top of you, and then you remember that they’re kissing cousins. He manipulated my clit out of its hood, tugging at it gently and then pinching to make it swell in his fingers. At the same time his sausage-thick fingertip tested the tight tender ring of muscle that closed my asshole off from intrusion. The assault on my senses was palpable and brutally efficient. Every one of my nerve endings seemed to crystallize in pain and shatter with pricklings of pleasure. I quaked and quivered on the cusp of it for a few minutes and then plummeted wetly into the abyss. I came, screaming like a banshee clamping my cunt around his cock with the force of a grand mal epileptic seizure spasm. The pain was like closing your fist around a rose stem covered in razor-sharp thorns. But the pleasure wrought from that pain was incommunicable.
I completely blacked out; he’d literally fucked me unconscious.
When I came to, so to speak, he was humming into my ear. His favorite holiday tune – Lennon’s “Happy Christmas.” It was my favorite, too. I was on top of him, sore and throbbing and spent, but buzzing with sensations cascading over other sensations. Sometimes I forget what we can do to each other. And, after a dozen odd centuries of being lovers, that’s really saying something.
“Okay, baby?” he asked into my hair. He was rocking and rubbing and kissing. It was as wickedly erotic as it was comforting. I briefly marveled at the fact that my body still could register arousal and then nestled greedily against him. We were both kitten-weak from the first salvo of lovemaking. Now was that delicious snuggling time of kissing bruises and whispering sweet, sappy things.
“I’m okay, Daddy.” My eyes glimpsed across the room toward our Chinese and champagne. “I’m hungry.”
“Well, you come by a healthy appetite honestly,” he winked. “No pun intended.”
With a wave of his hand the food and drink was on the bed beside us and we fed each other with chopsticks and drank out of the bottle like ancient heathens at Dionysian festivals. Well, okay, so they didn’t have Chinese food at the old rituals, but that was an oversight of management. A cornucopia of plenty had nothing on Moo Goo Gai Pan.
Greasy and sticky and slightly drunk, I slithered atop him and snuggled in hard, wriggling my body to his and delighting in the response it invoked.
“Honey, don’t you want to change out of that body?” he offered gently. “I know Daddy broke you in hard, baby girl. Maybe you can make yourself a little bigger and it won’t hurt so much.”
I stretched my arms above my head, flexed my legs, and pointed my toes. All my baubles and bangles jingled. It did ache to stimulate every muscle at once. But the ache was an integral part of the pleasure. He knew it as much as I did. The fact that he seemed guilty was a testament to how much control he’d lost before. I liked that. I liked it a lot.
”Don’t you like me, Daddy?” I purred sweetly, my body jingling along with my sing-song voice.
“Fuck,” he breathed, adjusting his slight stiffy against my hip. “I goddamn love you. It kills me when you get like this.”
Smiling the most craven smile of whore’s delight, I stretched the borrowed body fully against him again. “Then, hurt me, Daddy,” I moaned into his thick mat of sweat-drenched chest fur. “Love me and hurt me.”
When the cops came to the door for the second time, they informed us that the hotel was requesting for us to pay our bill and leave the premises. So we complied amid a great deal of suppressed laughter, then turned around in fresh forms and checked back in ten minutes later.
As mutes.
Which made it hard as hell to get a new order of Chinese delivered.
***
In case you’re wondering, we survived the “Lost Week of Lust” as we now refer to it, and put our noses to the iceberg after that. Just as Jules had predicted, Kane and Mom made politics at the North Pole a right bitch for those few months, so Dad didn’t feel confident enough to retire until March.
There was a scary patch where the Swift Elf Veterans for Truth did a barrage of public smears against me, but a little damage control shut down their agenda more or less. It was moot in the aftermath of Mom and Kane’s reveal-all photos in the Reindeer Roundtable. We’re still looking for Jules’ friend who managed to get the photos, but disappeared mysteriously after their publication. Our last tip indicated he might be trapped in an Amsterdam peep house morphed against his will into a glory hole. But that lead turned out to be false. Although, it did give Mom a good slice of revenge against Jules, who had to do the reconnaissance.
In the end, so to speak, Mom’s attempted coup lasted about four hours. She had a scattering of old school elves and some of the less frosty snowmen backing her and Kane, but I had the young work force and the reindeer union. Even the Polar Teddy Bear Confederation stopped their annual picnic to come out in support of me.
Mom and Kane are back to managing the Elfball League. And that’s as it should be.
Enjoying his retirement, Dad still helps out on the big day, but he’s more or less a figurehead, happy to hand out goodies and collect on milk and cookie perks, but steering clear of the factories and keeping out of labor issues. It gives him more time for whoring and drinking, which is also as it should be. Although we had to have a serious discussion about making sure he stopped indulging himself while in uniform. In this day and age, you just can’t risk the bad press. Dad caved without much of a clatter and that really drove home that I was big girl on the Pole now.
Of course, none of that matters when we go home. I’m always Daddy’s little girl there.
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