Christmas Eve Sins

The rain hammered against the stained-glass windows of the manor, each drop a frantic drumbeat against the oppressive silence. I’d been anticipating this night for weeks, a dark, twisted pleasure that had consumed my every waking thought. Downstairs, Matthew was already asleep, oblivious to the storm brewing within the walls and, more importantly, within me. The Christmas tree, a grotesque parody of festive cheer, cast flickering shadows across the room, highlighting the opulent, yet unsettling, surroundings. As I descended the grand staircase, a strange excitement pulsed through my veins, a primal urge that demanded release.

The glittering array of gifts beneath the tree was a cruel reminder of the expectations of the season, yet it also served as a perverse invitation. I found Mary Beth lying on her back in the drawing-room, a crimson ribbon snaking around her waist and between her breasts, forming a decadent bow. The scent of her expensive perfume hung heavy in the air, a heady mix of jasmine and something subtly animalistic. She was panting softly, her body rigid with arousal, a clear sign of her readiness. Kneeling before her, my hand gently tracing the curve of her spine, I felt a surge of anticipation. Her skin was smooth and supple, the perfect canvas for the torment that lay ahead.

With deliberate slowness, I lifted each foot, rubbing the soles with focused intensity, eliciting a series of sharp, desperate whimpers. Her ticklish nature was legendary, yet she possessed a deep, undeniable craving for this kind of attention. The rhythmic pressure built, escalating her pleasure, driving her closer to the brink. As my hand moved to the soles of her feet, I began the meticulous process of stimulating each toe, digging my nails into the sensitive flesh. Simultaneously, I pressed her feet together, trapping her beneath my weight, creating an unbearable sensation. As I slid my cock into the space between her feet, her body convulsed with a desperate need, squealing with delight. I continued my assault, lifting her legs and licking her calves and ankles, noting the lingering scent of her lotion, a sweet, cloying aroma that further fueled my desires. My gaze locked onto hers, and I noticed a glint of pleasure in her eyes, confirming my suspicions that she was thoroughly enjoying the escalating torment.

Her moans intensified, accompanied by gasps and involuntary arching of her back as she bit down hard on her fingers, a desperate attempt to stifle her cries. I continued my relentless assault, moving over to her other foot, applying the same brutal combination of stimulation and restraint. She struggled against my grip, attempting to spread her legs, but my hand held firm, keeping her legs closed as I meticulously licked around her toes. The sight of her pale, glistening skin sent a fresh wave of desire through me. As she thrashed and writhed, her thighs became slick with moisture, the scent becoming overwhelmingly intoxicating. Without hesitation, I yanked her legs open, exposing the crimson ribbon that had soaked through, now saturated with her warm, viscous fluid. Her legs were covered in a glistening sheen, a testament to the intense pleasure she was experiencing. I rubbed her pussy through the wet fabric, pressing hard against her clitoris, intensifying the sensation.

“Fuck me, please, baby,” she begged, her voice raw with need, “Take me.” The words hung in the air, dripping with desperation. I responded with a low growl, relishing her vulnerability. Her arched back, her frantic attempts to gain friction, only fueled my sadistic pleasure. I began by lightly slapping her pussy, eliciting a shriek of delight as she jumped and squealed. “You’re not ready yet, my slutty girl,” I taunted, a cruel smile twisting my lips. Her eyes widened at my use of such a taboo term, but it seemed to electrify her, heightening her excitement. “Yes, YES!” she moaned, biting down on her fingers with renewed ferocity. “Get your slut ready to fuck.”

With swift efficiency, I reached down and pulled the damp ribbon from between her thighs, then reached up to tug off the upper bow, already saturated with her leaking milk. Gazing at her smooth pussy, pulsing with life and juices, I felt an overwhelming urge to possess it, to dominate her completely. They called it a Christmas gift, but for me, it was a dark indulgence, a release from the pent-up frustration of my desires.

Lowering myself between Mary Beth’s bent knees, I pursed my lips and blew softly against those damp lower lips. She shivered and moaned, responding to my touch. I repeated the action, this time exhaling warmer breath across her mound, followed by a cool breeze. “Please,” she pleaded, “touch me. Let me feel you.” Ignoring her request for gentleness, I returned my hand to cover her, but she couldn't hold still. She twitched her hips, seeking more stimulation. In truth, she was far beyond the point of restraint, but I wasn’t ready to abandon the slow, torturous build-up. I wanted to savor every moment of her pleasure, prolonging the agony before claiming her fully. My fingers brushed against my glossy “present,” a silent acknowledgment of the inevitable release.

“More,” Mary Beth whimpered, her voice strained with anticipation. As I petted her and watched, juices collected at the edges of her opening and oozed down her crack. Slowly, I slid my middle finger into that wet hole, palm down, and curled it slightly. As it slid in and out, the pad of my finger ran along the floor of her tunnel while the arched knuckle’s trajectory took it directly across her G-spot. Mary Beth began to shake violently, her ass rapidly bouncing a few centimeters off the carpet. Then her legs contracted until her heels rested on my shoulders. I say rested, but she took no rest, instead earnestly pulling my face toward the feast before it.

With my finger still at work shallowly plunging her vagina, my lips now closed around her erect clitoris. But I only kissed it lightly. Though I knew she wanted rougher treatment and a quick release, I had learned that she could reach greater heights of euphoria if I took my time. So I kissed and pulled my face away slightly until her heels brought me back. This time, I licked to one side of her slit, digging the tip of my tongue into the fold and following it up to the top, then waiting for her next tug to address the other side. With each pull, I kissed or licked or sucked a different area of her vulva. All the while, I rubbed her inside—top and bottom—with my finger. At some point, I added a second finger and spread them in a curved V. This took my knuckles to either side of her G-spot, and the change instantly affected her cries. They began to rise in pitch if not volume, and I knew my woman would cum.

And cum she did! Her feet dropped from my shoulders and planted on the floor, propelling her hips upward and her pussy hard against my face. I took my cue and latched—precariously, due to her thrashing—onto her clit, sucking for all I was worth. She pumped against me with each contraction, and I lightened my suction with each succeeding squeeze of her thighs until she settled to the floor beneath me, quenched. I looked up into her eyes and saw them shining with love and gratitude. “Now you,” she sighed weakly.

I shook my head. “Rest,” I said as I took up a new position in the crook of her arm. Nuzzling her nearer breast, so firm and full of milk, I hummed contentedly and kissed it. Mary Beth turned to face me, bringing her nipple to my mouth. Her orgasm had triggered another letdown, and milk dripped steadily from its tip. “You can help me with this now,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. I licked up the droplets, then opened my mouth wide and circled her areola firmly with the tip of my tongue, savoring the sweetness of her body. Continuing to suckle, I watched her pleasure escalate, reveling in the raw, primal joy she experienced. The rhythmic movements of her body, the escalating moans of her pleasure, were intoxicating. As she continued to writhe and pulse, I maintained my grip, ensuring that she received every ounce of satisfaction. Finally, with a final, desperate push, she released a torrent of cum, filling me with a sense of both satisfaction and guilt. As she slumped against me, exhausted but content, I felt a strange sense of peace descend upon me. The storm outside continued to rage, but within the walls of the manor, the darkness had given way to a perverse sense of fulfillment.

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