4. Noelle
noelle
. . .
I feel a breeze first, a barely-there rush of air over exposed skin. The first thought I have is that I’ve fallen asleep naked again. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened after an intense solo session, but then I taste the lingering sweetness on my tongue, and something nags at the back of my mind.
What happened?
My mind whirls as I try to cling to a memory, but they’re all rushing by too quickly to latch onto. I remember washing my shirt in the sink earlier, then I came to Santa’s Village for my bag.
Oh my god. Santa’s Village! Everything comes rushing back like a tidal wave, and my eyes fly open, but all that greets me is darkness.
My eyelashes press against the silky fabric blindfolding me. Thankfully, light peeks in around the edges. I strain to hear, but there’s nothing. No one. Not a whisper of breath, a creak of footsteps, a groan of furniture.
I try to move, but something digs into my wrists. That’s when I notice bindings around my ankles and wrists, and the breeze suddenly makes more sense. My legs are spread apart, my feet resting against something hard, and my arms are extended on either side of me. The cool air pricks my nipples and teases my bare pussy, and I can’t help the wetness I feel gathering there.
God, I wish I was normal.
Instead, I’m getting wet at the idea of being drugged, stripped, and bound.
“Hello?” My voice comes out hoarse from disuse. How much time has passed? The thought of being exposed for however long makes me lift my hips into the air, silently searching for my captor.
It’s sick and fucked up, and I know I should be scared, yet a part of me doesn’t fully believe this is even happening. A part of me, the irrational part, thinks this is a dream. I’ve had wet dreams like this before—tied up and helpless and at the mercy of whoever stole me away in the dead of night.
But I don’t think this is a dream.
And I think Santa took me.
As my grogginess begins to fade, so does my horniness. Reality settles in around me, and I wish like hell that I could go back to that drugged state of mind where nothing was real.
I roll my wrist in its binding—it’s stiff, like leather, and the edges dig into my flesh. Pain radiates from my shoulders, and I shift, feeling something hard dig into my back. I try to pay attention to everything, to my body, and realize I’m not lying down; I’m sitting down at a weird reclined angle.
“Is anyone there?” I raise my voice, letting it carry, hoping someone will hear me. That they’ll answer me.
What if they’ve tied me up and left me alone?
No, not they. He.
Santa.
I wish I knew his real fucking name. Calling him Santa is ridiculous.
I groan and drop my head back. It bumps into something solid behind me, and my brows crash together. I’m in a chair of some kind—it’s hard and unyielding, but weirdly comfortable.
“You’re awake.”
His voice is deep and rumbling, and it shouldn’t send electricity shooting through my body, but it does. I lift my head as if I can look at him, but all I see is darkness.
“I’d like to be let go,” I say in my best I’m better than you voice. But it comes out shaky and insecure, and the chuckle he lets out under his breath is enough to send a raging mixture of anger and arousal through me.
It’s humiliating, knowing I’m naked. I can’t cover myself, and I can’t turn the lights off or strategically place a piece of clothing over my midsection so he can’t see everything.
And I know he’s seeing everything.
Every inch of my body is on display for him, exposed and vulnerable. Can he see how wet I am? How hard my nipples are? What does he think of the softness of my belly, or the fullness of my thighs? The slight droop of my heavy breasts, or the softness of my hips?
What is he thinking?
Rough, calloused fingers glide along my calf, up to my thigh, pulling me from my thoughts. I take a shuddering breath, my heart leaping into my throat.
“Don’t worry. I’ll let you go, little elf,” he says softly. He moves closer, something crunching lightly under his feet. “But not until I’m done with you.”
My breath catches, and I blindly turn his direction. Goosebumps ripple over my arms at the nearness to him, and I nearly combust. Tingles erupt between my legs, and my lower belly tightens almost painfully. Every nerve ending is on fire, and I feel like I’m seconds away from throwing caution completely out and begging him to fuck me.
“What are you going to do to me?” My question comes out breathless, but not scared. I hear his lips pull away from his teeth, and I can clearly see his smile in my mind.
“I’m going to make your every wish come true,” he whispers. My throat goes dry at his words, at the promise in his voice. His hand drags higher up my leg, wrapping around the bend of my knee, gently massaging.
I can barely breathe. I can barely think past the warm feel of his rough palm on my smooth skin.
God, I’m so fucking glad I shaved this morning.
His scent surrounds me, overwhelms me. It’s hard to focus on anything other than him. He’s all encompassing, demanding my full attention—and I want to give it to him.
“My every wish?” I repeat before tracing my lips with my tongue, wetting them. “Like what?”
His hand leaves my knee, and a needy, pathetic whimper escapes me. The loss of his warmth is immediately missed—I want to reach for him, beg him to put his hands back on me. Make me warm—make me feel good.
“Santa?”
“I’m here, baby girl.” His voice is a low comfort vibrating against my skin, resonating down to my bones. He drags his finger down my cheek, and another whine pushes from my lips. “Your skin is so soft. You’re so…” He trails off, but I cling to his unsaid words.
I’m so…what?
I want to ask, but a part of me is scared of the answer.
This time when he pulls away, I hear his footsteps as he retreats. “I’m going to remove your blindfold,” he says. “But you can’t freak out or scream. You understand?”
If I was going to do either of those things, I would’ve done so already. But I feel weirdly calm, like I’m suspended above my body and watching everything unfold.
“I understand.”
More footsteps, then there’s a gentle tug on the strip of fabric around my eyes. The knot loosens and falls away. I blink against the blinding light, squinting at the intensity of it. It takes me a moment to realize where I am, but once I do, my entire body tenses.
“What the fuck?—”
“You said you wouldn’t freak out,” he says, a gentle scolding note in his voice. “Stay calm.”
Stay calm? He wants me to stay calm? I’m tied up in the middle of the fucking mall, right in the middle of Santa’s Village, and he wants me to stay calm?
I shake my head a few times, trying to wake myself up from this dream. It feels like one of those nightmares where you go to class in nothing but your underwear. But it’s worse. Because I’m helplessly bound and naked in the middle of my workplace.
“I am calm,” I say, but it sounds distant, like I’m not actually speaking.
The fake snow glitters under the fluorescent lights overhead, and the Christmas lights twinkle around the edges of the sleigh. Right in front of me are massive studio lights, and the camera we use to take family photos is mounted between them.
“What are you doing with that camera?” I ask, jerking my chin toward it. A low chuckle sounds from behind me, and instead of the fear I know I should be feeling, excitement blooms in my chest.
He says nothing as he rounds the sleigh and stands in front of me, the lights haloing him, making him look like a fallen angel. Slowly, he folds his arms across his massive chest. He’d taken off his red jacket, but stayed in his red pants, black undershirt, and black boots, the silver buckles glinting.
The corner of his mouth tucks up in a sly grin. “Nothing,” he says, and it sends a shiver through my body. A part of me wonders if he’s lying, yet another part believes him. “Are you ready, little elf?”
“Ready for what?” I breathe. His grin turns into a full smile, and I tug on my bindings, trying to press my thighs together to alleviate some of the building pressure between them.
He’s silent as he moves to the front of the sleigh and braces his hands on it. His gaze meets mine, and it burns me alive. “One night,” he says softly. “All I’m asking for is one night—one night of fun, of games, of giving yourself fully to me. No holding back. No hiding. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more, but all I ask for in return is…you have to let me own every inch of your body tonight. Let me own you.”
My breath hitches, and his face softens. Give myself to him? Let him own me?
Again, I know it’s insane—I’m insane. I know I should be screaming and begging him to let me go, but I can’t. I don’t want to. Because, honestly, I want to see what he’s going to do. I want to see what dreams he thinks he can fulfill. I want to know how he’s going to ruin other men for me.
Maybe it’s because I’m a horny slut and think with my pussy, or maybe it’s because I’m so desperate for love and human touch I’m willing to let this man kidnap me and have his way with me…but whatever it is, for whatever reason, I dip my chin in a small nod.
“I’ll take good care of you, baby,” he tells me, and the way he says baby has my heart doing somersaults. “Turn your mind off and let me take over.”
I swallow thickly. He says it like it’s so easy to do—and maybe it is. I don’t know. I’ve never had anyone I could turn my mind off around, but he makes me believe I can do it with him. For some reason, I trust him. I trust that he’ll make sure I’m okay, that I’m safe. I trust that he won’t hurt me.
“Okay,” I whisper, and the smile he gives me borders on otherworldly.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, his eyes melting into pools of dark chocolate. I preen under his praise, but a part of me is wondering if that’s all he’ll give me. Will he hurt me? Make me cry? Beg?
I lick my lips again, ready to find out.