15. “You always loved the monster…”

Chapter 15

“You always loved the monster…”

TWYLA

C ountless petals cling to my bare skin while rose and evergreen oil perfumes me in their scents. Vanilla with a hint of incense engulfs the air from the candles. Lathering up a fair amount of body wash, Krampus proceeds to scrub my skin, teasing and tantalizing me the whole time.

Nervousness knifes through me when he guides me through the bath onto the balcony, where only a wrought iron railing acts as a barrier between us and hundreds of feet a sheer, cold drop. I lick my lips, and a tremor ripples through me right before my husband coils his hand to fist my hair and presses me against that railing.

“Fucking love how your pretty tits look with the winter air rolling across them,”—he murmurs in my ear and reaches around to pinch my erect nipple—“making them so damn hard for me.”

I can’t tell if I’m whimpering from vertigo or his actions. Regardless, I can’t deny how much of a turn-on it is to be nearly naked outside with the wind lashing my body. Or how he bends me over more until my breasts barely skim the water’s surface, my nipples brushing along those rose petals as Krampus parts my cheeks and inspects the plug in my ass.

“Ho ho holy shit!” I cry as he slides it in and out, fucking my ass with the plug.

“Let us hope not, min Twyla,” he says, his voice like a velvety warning.

A low, deep grunt, and then Krampus drops my hair to grip my body closer, putting more pressure on my ass. Then, he lowers his fingers to my soft, wet folds. I rock my hips, rock against that railing, my breasts swinging as he pumps that plug in and out. My womb tightens, the pressure swelling to the snapping point. I’m afraid he’s going to pull away, leave me wanting, denying me like he did back at the cabin.

But those fingers dip into my slit, two sliding to the knuckle.

“Oh!” I throw my head back, awed by the sensation of those thick fingers meeting the pressure of the plug on the other side. Beyond the plugs and a couple of his fingers, we haven’t done much ass play.

Lightning shoots for my pussy. Krampus circles my clit with his thumb. The lightning strikes. I snap. The orgasm explodes through me, surging convulsing waves through my system until I’m moaning and thrusting against that railing, borderline humping it while my legs shake until they buckle.

He doesn’t stop.

He just keeps pumping that plug in and out of my anus, fingers fucking my hot center, and his tongue slapping my puckered nipples in between the wind lashing. By the fifth orgasm, I’m convinced my entire system short-circuits. Like twinkle lights flickering on and off when they should be steady.

When I’m ready to drop, he picks me up, carries me out of the bath, and turns my boneless body onto my belly.

He doesn’t remove the butt plug yet. My liquid limbs melt as my husband massages warm oil into my buttocks. It doesn’t seem as sore, and I wager it’s a healing oil. Or Krampus has used his magic to heal my backside—all so he may spank it again.

Oh…sweet, naughty Krampusnog! That’s not all that oil does.

“Mmm…you’re a fucking asshole!” I whine weakly and stiffen as he makes a sound halfway between a chuckle and a growl.

I feel his hot breath right above the left side of my neck as he retorts, “It’s your asshole I’ll be fucking tonight, my kjaere.” All my muscles tense, and fear, mixed with hot adrenaline, knifes through me. “You’ll beg me for it. And you’ll take it like the naughty girl you are.”

He rubs the tingly oil along my folds, coating the outer and inner ones. All of me quivers from the kink oil—oil that not only heats my skin, my flesh, and my blood, but it’s arousal oil. And not the normal human kind that can never replicate the level of libido-arousal that Krampus and his race can. His oil plumps my labia and tingles the area like fairy dust. It also has a subtle vibration sensation to it, similar to a liquid vibrator but ten times stronger!

“How long are you going to punish me?” I sob into the blankets, digging my nails into the pillows.

Chuckling low, he rubs the oil in slow, teasing circles along my clitoral hood before peeling the hood back to apply it to my engorged nub with all its sensitive nerves. Hyper-sensitive now. “I am Krampus. Here to punish my favorite skitten jente. Because nice girls get sweets. Naughty girls get Krampus cock. And eggnog. Now, turn over.”

“Oh, please…” I squeak, cringing at the thought of him using the oil on my breasts.

“Min Twyla,” he growls and slams his hand down on my ass, burning one cheek.

I yelp and rush to turn over, trusting him, knowing he’s doing this to prepare me. If I were more of a risk-taker, he probably wouldn’t have told me his plan. But after a year of buildup with butt-training and for my own satisfaction, he’s given me the information in advance. It helps me soften, to melt, and submit, trusting my husband with my pleasure, trusting his dominance and possession.

No demon or monster in existence could be better at balancing torment and pleasure than Krampus.

So, I purse my lips and clench my eyes shut as he drips the heated oil onto my throat, stroking it into my skin.

“Eyes on me, min Twyla,” he commands.

Merciful birches, he knows how to add another layer of vulnerability and arousal when forcing me to watch him. His eyes lock onto mine at the same time that he cups my breasts, fondling them and rubbing his wet, warm thumbs onto the buds. They were already erect. Now, they’re as hard as pink topaz stones.

I can’t help but swoon from his features. Something so noble about his profile and masculine. He’s so rugged with his jaw, strong and chiseled, his sharp cheekbones casting shadows across his face. Dark, smoldering eyes pierce me. They are intense, both dangerous and magnetic. He leaves me weak at the knees every time.

I don’t often climax from nipple play. But tonight, I do! Between the hot, subtle vibration along my clit and pubis to Krampus plucking at my nipples, curling the pads of his thumbs along the buds, the stimulation sends me over the edge. Sharp inhales, raggedy breaths, and hips rising off the bed. The King of Yuletide gazes at me as I come down from the high. He smiles tenderly, affectionately. Those dark eyes know just how to beguile me.

“So responsive, min stjerne. You always glow so brightly for me. And I love how you eye-fuck me,” he remarks, massaging my breasts and leaning down to murmur in my ear, tickling the hairs on the nape of my neck, “The only sweet girl to ever eye-fuck me.”

I smile shyly. “I eye-fucked you the second I saw you.”

“That you did. You always loved the monster…even when he spanked your lovely rumpa when you first woke in my bed.”

“So happy you kidnapped me.”

“You will spit a gods-damned star from your pretty pussy by the time I’m finished with you today.”

I widen my eyes, almost preparing for another orgasm. Fortunately, he has mercy on my poor breasts.

“Krampus, is this one of those types of humongous presents where you keep unwrapping box after box until it gets all the way down to the tiny one?” I wonder, meeting his curious expression, how handsome he looks like that, especially with his head cocked to one side. “But in this case, each box I unwrap is an orgasm?”

His hands roam to my belly. “A fair way to look at this day. But each you unwrap is also a special gift for me, kjaere.”