Disclaimer: This is a work of amatory fantasy. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading here. If you are a bit squeamish about graphic depicting ones of sex and bondage, please stop reading here. The author takes no responsibility for those who wish to reenact anything written below.
Permission is granted for private use. The author wishes any agencies that wish to publish this work, to please contact him at FESSELN1@aol.com. Or visit his weblog at http://fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/. Any comments are gladly accepted and encouraged.
T'was the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring ... no, that was not true at all, Brandy thought to herself. She was stirring alright. She writhed on the couch bound beside her boyfriend Grant who was gently petting her blonde hair. The little gel vibrator nestled all snug in her sex was pulsing little rhythms of pleasure when Grant wanted it to. So far, he hadn't given into her whines pleading him to send her over the edge. It was her own fault. He had caught her.
The young blonde shuddered as a mini orgasm swirled through her and she moaned into her harness gag.
Brandy was dressed in what was once locked inside the iron box that resided under their small Christmas tree. Her legs were encased in a red latex mono glove that Grant had laced up tightly. The binder started at her ankles and tapered up her thighs, ending just below her crotch. Her arms were trapped behind her back in a matching gloved arm-binder that resembled belted vinyl opera gloves; the wrist straps buckled to the opposite upper arm. A red collar gleaming with chrome fasteners and 'D' rings adorned her neck and a ball gag harness kept her complaints to unintelligible mewls. She now laid curled up on the couch, her head on her boyfriend's lap.
"It's not Christmas yet," he said, turning off her vibe as he kissed her on her forehead.
Brandy glanced up to their wall clock. An hour to midnight. An eternity.
She shouldn't have peeked but it was in her DNA. Ever since she found out there wasn't a Santa Claus, she challenged her parents by trying to see what presents she was going to get. She would creep around the house looking into closets and crawl spaces; underneath beds and in out-of-reach cabinets. It became a game that Brandy never outgrew. Grant found out the hard way their first Christmas celebration together when she found the cookbook collection she wanted in the closet of his small apartment. He told her that the following Christmas would be different. That he would punish her if he found her peeking around for her packages.
Now he was doing just that.
Dressed in his red flannel loungers and black silk robe, Grant took another sip of wine as he sat there with her. As her head lay on his lap, she could feel his hardness against her cheek. She began to nuzzle him, hoping he would finish what he had started within her.
When Brandy had seen the old-fashioned lockbox beneath the blinking lights of the tree, Grant said that whatever was inside there would be her punishment if he caught her trying to find her 'big' present. Of course, Brandy made sure he was at when she did her peeking but no matter where she peeked, she couldn't find anything she would call 'big'. What she didn't know was that Grant had a camera hidden, its glass eye coolly watching her larceny. Tonight he had shown her the recording of her and she bowed to her fate.
It wasn't all bad. She found out what was in the box.
The vibrator erupted again, sending a flurry of little pleasures inside her.
Brandy moaned as his hand drifted down over her breast and began to lightly pinch her stiffened nipple. She began to rock her hips again and looking up at her lover. Grant had that construction-workers body that women drooled over. His dark brown eyes and his closely-cropped blonde hair and his snake-charmer smile would melt even the coldest heart. Brandy thought herself lucky to have such a man.
Grant dipped his finger into his chilled wine and dribbled it onto her nipple.
Their apartment television glowed with video of a burning yule log and a collection of Christmas tunes played in the background. Even in her predicament, Brandy felt warm and safe and loved.
"Ready for your present?" Grant asked.
Brandy nodded as she shifted herself so she lay on her back.
"Well, you still have awhile to go before midnight," he smiled, "traditionally, we should really wait until the sun comes up."
Brandy shook her head and moaned into her gag. There was no way she could take this until morning.
He laughed and took another sip of wine.
"You need to learn a little patience, my love. I think I know how we can kill some time before I give you your 'big' gift."
She felt his hand trace over her stomach to the hem of her little red g-string. He gently pulled it aside and dipped his finger into the folds of her sex. More flurries of bliss stirred inside her. She arched her hips to him and he eased his fingers in more.
He then extracted her vibe.
Grant moved over her to stand. His robe pooled at his feet followed by his loungers. His cock was fully erect, a very welcome sight for Brandy.
"Roll over, my sweet," he said.
The young blonde did as she was told. She felt his hands on shoulders as he helped her to kneel on the couch. His warm hands kneaded the cheeks of her rear before he gently pushed down on her back so her rear was up in the air and her head was buried into the cushions.
Brandy smiled around her gag as her boyfriend's fingers hooked the g-string and slipped it partially down her thighs. She wiggled her ass for him, enticing him to hurry.
Kneeling behind her, Grant eased himself into her, feeling her slick canal swallow him. Slowly, he began to pull out and thrust into her, his hands bracing on her hips. Brandy matched his easy rhythm. Just knowing he was inside of her made her passions drift even deeper; burying her.