Outside the wind was howling and snow swirled and beat against the windows.  The storm had been raging all day, the first gentle flurries of flakes turning quickly to blizzard. There would be no going anywhere tonight, I thought. I was stuck here on Christmas Eve. Alone and without power, only a few candles to illuminate my small living space.

“Bad enough that I’m stuck in Ottawa, away from everyone I know and love. Now I can’t even leave my apartment without freezing to death.”

I stared sadly at my poor excuse for a tree. It had looked almost pretty when the lights were twinkling. Now it was just a shadow of its former glory, branches drooping while needles fell to the carpet, a handful at a time.

“I wish I was anywhere but here right now. I wish I was somewhere warm.”

I let my mind wander far across the globe to beaches and sunshine and a pretty young woman who had me bewildered and besotted, a drowse setting in as I dreamed of her sitting beside me, her hand in mine as she pulled me close and kissed me…

I awoke suddenly to the sound of something thumping the roof hard, my lovely dream lost in an instant.

“Tree limb,” I mumbled, looking up at the ceiling, thankful that it hadn’t torn a hole in the roof and let the outside in.  “I guess things could be worse.”

Suddenly hungry, I put the kettle on the stove, using the blue orange stove flame to see by, and put some brownies on a plate while I waited for the water to boil.  At least I could warm my insides. Getting comfortable with a blanket around my shoulders, I settled in, growing drowsy again as I sipped my tea and nibbled distractedly and, once again, started to nod off…

“Ho ho ho!”

I woke suddenly, my heart hammering against my ribs, eyes flying open as I let out a sharp scream of fear. Standing before me was some guy dressed as Santa. Who he was or how he’d gotten in, I had no idea. Not that it mattered. The only thing of any real value here was me. While I’d had my share of home intruder fantasies in the past, they’d been just that. Fantasies. The idea of it actually happening was terrifying.

“Ho ho ho!” he repeated, looking at me expectantly, his Santa hat slightly askew, several twigs stuck in his snow white beard. He looked a bit of a mess. He’d even torn his coat in several places.

“Take the television, my wallet. I’ll give you all my PINs, just don’t-“

I didn’t have time to finish.

“Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie,” he rumbled. Yes, he actually rumbled. That’s the best I can explain his voice. “I’m not here to ravish you. Had a bit of a mishap, shall we say, and I’m in need of assistance. Oh, and tea, if you don’t mind. Cups are in the cupboard, right?”

I probably should have grabbed something and tried to hit him, but I couldn’t seem to get control of my arms and legs, so I just sat there stupidly as he helped himself, sipping hot tea with an exaggerated sigh of pleasure.

“And brownies. Don’t mind if I do, Bonnie,” he said, plucking one from the plate still sitting on my lap as I sat there wondering how he knew my name. Not really the most important question, but the others were too disturbing to contemplate.

“I know everyone’s name, my dear girl. It’s my job.”

I stared, wondering how he’d known what I was going to ask even before I asked it and again, he answered my unvoiced question.

“I am Santa, after all. And I know you think you don’t believe in Santa, Bonnie, but deep down inside, there’s a little piece of magic that still does.”

“Prove it,” I told him, a sense of curiosity at war with my fear. Against my better judgment, I was intrigued by my nighttime visitor.

Santa, if it truly was him, regarded me seriously, although his eye still twinkled and his mouth seemed to be on the verge of smiling.

“When you were 7, you asked me for a pair of ice skates. Pink ones. Do you remember those?”

I did. I’d loved those skates. The funny thing about them, my parents had told me not to get my hopes up too much. Times had been hard and money was tight. Not only that, they’d seemed as surprised as I was when I tore open the present.

“That was you?”

“No one else.”

“So you really are Santa,” I whispered, feeling slightly awe-struck as a little piece of me started believing in magic once more.

“In the flesh. Now, if you don’t mind. I could use a little help getting my sleigh off your roof. It seems to be… stuck.”

I looked outside at the swirling snow once and shivered. It had to be -20C outside. Maybe colder. Even bundled up I wouldn’t be able to take more than a few minutes of that. Not to mention the wind and the snow or the fact that there wasn’t a ladder to get up on the roof with.

Santa watched my face carefully while finishing off his brownie and taking another sip.

“All it takes is a little magic. All you have to do is open your heart and believe, Bonnie. Easy as falling off a roof. Trust me. I’ve done it a few times.”

“Believe in what?” I wondered out loud, gazing up at the ceiling again.

“In Magic. In me.”

I stood silently staring upwards, thinking about those pink skates. Two years later I made the girls' team. Left winger for the Snow Angels. It was still one of my best memories. All because Santa had brought me skates that we were too poor to afford.

“I believe,” I whispered awkwardly.

“It has to be more than that, Bonnie. It has to come from the heart."

And so I stood there in a nearly dark room with a strange man who claimed he was Santa Claus and looked deep down inside.

“I believe. I believe. I believe.”

And I did. Not at first, maybe, but each time I told myself so, I believed a little more. And then, something miraculous happened. I truly did believe that the impossible was possible and that Santa had come looking for help and that Christmas magic really did exist.

“Ho ho ho! You’ve done it, Bonnie! I knew you could!”

Above I heard a noise. I could only guess that it was Santa’s sleigh being freed. Forgetting everything, I smiled, a sense of pride washing over me. I had done it.

“Such a good girl.”

He patted me on the head, smiling down at me and I smiled back up.

“Now, what would you like for your reward?”

Blushing, I shrugged.  It didn’t really seem that I should be rewarded and maybe I already had. After all, Christmas didn’t seem so gloomy anymore even if it was still cold and miserable out and I was still in the dark.

Santa, however, must have been doing his mind-reading trick again, for he winked at me, and grinned.

“For someone so nice, you have some very naughty thoughts, young lady. Very well. But only for 24 hours. Enjoy yourself. Merry Christmas!”

And with that, he wiggled his nose and disappeared, much to my astonishment, since he took my tree, my couch, my living room, my kitchen with him. He even took the blizzard…

I found myself standing on a secluded beach wearing a… a bikini. Not just any bikini. A very risqué bikini. And I was warm. The sun felt amazing on my exposed skin. I stood watching in wonder as the waves swelled and rode gently over the sand, my gaze drifting skyward. It was noon and the cloudless sky was the most perfect shade of blue I could imagine. Paradise.

“Hey, lover. Looking for something?”

My heart skipped a beat as I turned. Her bikini, if possible, was even more risqué than mine. She smiled, regarding me with light blue eyes which twinkled as merrily as Santa’s had.  A floral pattered shopping bag dangled from one hand.

“Nice day for a hike, don’t you think?”

Besotted, I nodded, blushing as she reached into her bag and produced a pink collar. I didn’t object when she buckled it around my throat and stood back admiring me. Nor when she fished out a leash and clipped it to the collar.

“I don’t want you wandering off and getting lost,” she teased as she led me down the beach towards high rocky cliffs, leash in one hand, bag in the other, an amused look on her face when she caught me staring at the bag.

“I brought some accessories. Just in case,” she winked.

“Oh,” I said, stupidly, my tongue-tied in a knot and unable to form words, especially after she kissed me, which she did before we’d gone more than a few dozen steps. A soft kiss. Tender even, and yet so full of longing that it left me breathless. I kissed her back, of course, heat surging from within, hungry for more as she stepped back, giggling playfully.

“Soon, lover.”

Lover. I felt a little dizzy at the word. Maybe it was because I forget to breathe. Whatever it was, it felt wonderful.

“Okay,” was all I could manage as I watched her gaze drift to my breasts and my protruding stiff nipples. And then further to my briefs and the telltale spot that had suddenly appeared, so that my lips were clearly outlined against the rainbow striped material. 

“I like that I can do that to you,” she whispered into my ear, lips brushing my sensitive skin, sinking her teeth in gently before releasing me again.

“Fuck.”

“That’s the plan.”

I didn’t say another word, there being no words that could possibly explain how I felt as I was led to the edge of the beach and beyond until we came to a crack in the rocky cliff face.

“Go ahead,” she told me, guiding me into the crack. I gasped, astonished at the sight before me. A dimly lit grotto with a small pool in the center, soft light entering from a few small holes in the domed stone ceiling.

“I want to do such dirty things to you. Just say yes.”

I felt my heart skip a beat as we locked gazes, my answer obvious as I leaned forward to kiss her. It wasn’t a shy kiss, nor tender. It was full of longing and passion and unbridled hunger.  There was no need for words after that. There were much better uses for our tongues. When it ended, with her stepping back, I let out a moan of protest. She just laughed and tugged on my leash again, walking me along the narrow beach ringing the enclosed pool that made up half of the grotto, leading me towards several pillars of rock that stretched from the smooth stone floor to the ceiling like giant fingers.

“You really shouldn’t have shared all your deepest darkest secrets with me, Bunny.”

I melted a little at hearing my pet name roll off her tongue, her accent making her words sound wicked. I felt the damp spot on my bikini bottoms spreading as she leaned in and kissed me, her hands cupping my face. Soft playful kisses. At least at first. I’m not sure when she undid my top. Or my bottoms. Only that she had and I was standing before her naked as she turned and took a seat on a small flat boulder patting her lap and eyeing me expectantly.

“Get your cute little ass over here, slut, so I can punish it.”

I didn’t waste a moment, prostrating myself over her luscious thighs, my pert bottom sticking up into the air. Soon the sound of her hand connecting with my flesh echoed softly in the small cavern.

“Naughty girls get punished,” she teased, as small bursts of heat flared in my upthrust cheeks until they felt like they were glowing. “And you are the naughtiest of bunnies.”

I let out a moan, amusing her.

“My cute little fuck girl likes being punished,” she laughed, her hand slipping between my thighs, my cream trickling over her fingers, wetting them while I spread my legs for her like a good little slut.

“You’re soaked and all I did was spank you,” she teased. 

Not just soaked. My nipples were so hard they hurt, and so sensitive that every time they brushed against my arms, a jolt of pleasure swelled in my heaving breasts.

“Bet I could make you come for me just doing this.”

She flicked my clit with her nail and I gasped, eyes rolling slightly back, my hips bucking suddenly as I felt myself hovering on the edge of climax. I just needed a little push.

“Not so fast.”

I let out a disappointed groan as her touch abandoned my pussy, only to reappear elsewhere, her fingertip, wet with my cream, brushing against my puckered rosebud.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes, please,” I whimpered.

“I want to hear it, slut. Beg me.”

“Please fuck my ass,” I demanded, almost shouting. “Please!”

“Finger fuck your ass, baby, or would you rather have something bigger in you?”

“You choose. I don’t care,” I managed, unable to think straight as she pushed her slender digit into my wrinkled hole, stretching me, her knuckle penetrating me, violating my ass as I squirmed, pain and pleasure radiating deep within.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I cried as she added another finger, and another, her strokes slow but deep, spearing my asshole than adding more lube by spitting into me, stopping suddenly as I began to shudder, on the verge of orgasm.

“Not so fast, little slut,” she teased, withdrawing her fingers. “I have something else in mind today.”

She helped me to my feet and kissed me softly on the lips before clipping the end of my leash to a ring attached to one of the rock pillars. I hadn’t noticed it earlier. There were several fashioned from iron with a patina of rust coating them.

“Hold out your hands.”

She dug around in her bag and pulled out four pink leather cuffs that matched my collar which she fastened and locked around my trembling wrists and wobbly ankles. Next came chains and I found myself with my hands trapped behind my back and attached to another pillar and my ankles secured to rings on the stone floor.

Tilting my chin up with her fingers she kissed me one last time, mouth consuming mine as she gazed deep into my soul.

“I won’t be far, sweetheart. When it’s over I’ll come back for you. Enjoy.”

“Enjoy what? When what’s over?” I whispered, lost in her eyes, my pulse racing as my heart hammered against my ribs.

She answered with a throaty chuckle and another kiss, this time on the tip of my nose. And then she left me, chained to the rock in the dim light, with no idea what was happening as I watched her slip through the entrance, leaving me alone.

Not for long, though. Moments later a figure replaced her. Larger and man-shaped. I trembled nervously as it was followed by another. It didn’t stop there. A dozen in all, all men by the shape of them, entered my rocky prison. As they came closer I could see better, several small holes in the ceiling letting light in. Men, all dressed in tight-fitting swim trunks, their skin dark and their smiles hungry. They reminded me of wolves on the hunt, the scent of their prey drawing them on. That would be me.

“No,” I whimpered as I began to panic and tug helplessly at my chains as my pussy betrayed me, my juices trickling down the insides of my thighs as I struggled. “No, no, no. Please, no.”

“Look what we have here,” one of them grinned as he peeled his trunks down his thick thighs. “A plaything.”

He was big. And thick. They all were. And their intent was clear. They were going to use me. I thought back to the cabin and what Santa had told me. For someone so nice, you have some very naughty thoughts, young lady.

This, then, was my real reward.

“Thank you, Santa,” I whispered as I felt their hands all over me, grabbing my arms, my tits, my ass, mauling me roughly. I was kissed, a tongue shoved into my mouth. I cried out as my nipple was stretched and twisted. Someone smacked my ass much harder than my dream lover had, leaving my flesh stinging. Thick fingers were shoved into my wet cunt and just held there. Unable to help myself I started rocking my hips and fucking them, crazed with lust.  

“Such a nasty little white girl.”

“And look at that ass.”

Strong fingers grabbed my cheeks harshly, pulling them apart.

I felt something pressing between them and against my pucker. The one my lover had prepared with her fingers and my juices and her spit.

He shoved into me, stretching me painfully. I sobbed as I thrust my ass back, forcing him deeper, the rattle of chains echoing in the chamber. Arms encircled me as another cock was rammed into my dripping wet pussy, filling me. They fucked me hard, slamming into me my damp flesh, pounding my fuck holes mercilessly. Unable to help myself, I came, my entire body jerking and shuddering, both holes clenching as I felt them unleash their loads.

“Little whore is getting off on this. Damn.”

I was and I didn’t care that they knew I was. My deepest darkest secret revealed to a dozen hot black men. I’m not sure how long they used me, fucking me in my ass, my pussy, my mouth. I lost track of how much cum I’d swallowed or taken. It dripped out of my holes and covered my belly and tits and ran down my cheeks and hair when they finally left me, exhausted, still chained to the rocks. I ached. Everything hurt and I was sobbing as I wondered how many times I’d come. A dozen, perhaps. Maybe more. I had nothing left in me.

“You look so beautiful, lover.”

She’d come back for me as she’d promised. I stared up at her, my gaze unfocused, and attempted to speak, but nothing came out, so I just smiled. Laughing, she knelt and wiped the cum from my mouth and kissed me, her touch gentle as she pushed my cum soaked hair from my face.

“Was it everything you dreamed of?”

“Yes. Oh, god. And more.”

“Good. Let’s get you back to my place, now, and get you cleaned up. You look like a whore.”

“I feel like one,” I admitted, blushing.

We showered, making love under the hot water. Sweet gentle tender love. At least the first time. The second time she took me in her bed, her head between my thighs, mine between hers, fucking each other with our tongues until we came on each other’s faces.

And then I slept, spent and content, clinging to her like a life-line, her arms around me, holding me close, our hearts pitter-pattering against each other. When I finally awoke, I was greeted by her loving smile.

“Your 24 hours is almost up, sweetheart.”

“I’m not ready to go,” I whispered, her kiss silencing any other protest I might make.

“I’m not ready to let you go, but that’s how Christmas magic works, Bunny,” she said, kissing me again as she began to fade and summer turned once more to winter…

Christmas morning. Outside it was quiet. The power had come back on inside my small apartment and the lights were, once more, twinkling merrily on my tree. I was sitting on the couch in my pajamas, a blanket wrapped around me, an empty plate on my lap. I sighed, remembering my dream, my fingers slipping into my PJ bottoms. It had felt so real. I closed my eyes and sighed as I fingered myself to a gentle orgasm, picturing her soft blue eyes and her laugh as I climaxed.

Eventually, I arose, my thoughts still fuzzy. It had felt so real, but of course, things like that only happened in stories and dreams. Padding into my small kitchen in my thick fuzzy socks, I left the plate full of chocolate crumbs on the counter, pausing, my brow furrowed, at the sight of my kettle sitting next to not one, but two dirty cups...