Naughty. The thick letters glint in the light of the fire. Smiling, I make my way over to the book, anxious to prepare for this week’s entertainment. Glancing outside, my heart constricts as I watch North Pole Proper prepare for my uncle Kringle’s funeral. At least I’ll have something to distract me. Though his death is truly something to mourn, the fact that I wasn’t invited is just salt to the wound.
I take a shuddering breath and return to business - no use dwelling on things that can’t be changed. Glancing down, I spot a slip of paper sticking up from just under the cover. Curious, I open the book and stare down at the spidery letters slashed onto the page.
Good luck finding someone to frolic with this year. Looks like there have been bad times at the retirement center. Can’t wait to see who you come up with.
Thumbing back through the list, I note that, unfortunately, Kris is right. Two-thirds of the list are people well into adulthood. Frowning, I try to think back to last year. The naughty minx I captured didn't seem to be this far down. Perhaps with the way the world is going, more and more are turning from the light of Christmas and back towards their own selfish desires?
Closing my eyes, I conjure up my morsel. Her fevered screams and moans fill my ears as I reminisce over doling out her punishments. She's exactly what I need. Naughty, mouthy, and absolutely no remorse. Smiling, I look back down at the list. There's no way she's reformed enough to not be back on here. That vixen didn't have one selfless cell in her body. I flip through, trying to find my prize, but so far, her face doesn't pop up. Instead, my gaze lands on someone entirely different.
Like a punch to the gut, all the air leaves my lungs. I sit there for countless moments as I stare at the picture in front of me. It can’t be. Soft waves of blonde hair encircle a pale face with dark, luscious lips and chocolate-brown eyes. A face I’ve seen so many times in my dreams. It’s like my greatest fantasy come back to life.
Flipping back through, I note that she's at about the last third in the list. Frowning, I flip back to her. A small sense of unease skitters down my spine. She shouldn’t be on the naughty list. Looking closer, I spy her name. Caitlin. Nothing at all like the Angelica she looks like.
Once my mind returns to normal, it’s easy to spot the differences between the two. Caitlin’s face is a bit thinner, more pinched and tired. Angelica always had that exuberant glow that never faded. Caitlin’s eyes are also different. Brown instead of green, and a lot more focused and sharp.
Not carefree like Angelica. With a sigh, I lean back. They are as different as night and day. Not to mention the fact that Caitlin is actually on the naughty list. Angelica never even breathed a bad word. She’d never end up here. Bitterness twists my heart. That’s probably why I couldn’t get her to stay. Looking back out the window, I glare at the glass dome and bright lights. Maybe the list can’t differentiate naughty from just plain rotten.
No, that’s not it. The lists never seem to care when it’s matters of the heart. Shaking my head, I look back down at Caitlin’s face, focusing on the differences and not the similarities. A sly smile curls up the edges of my lips. This is the perfect opportunity to finally get some closure. She’s not so naughty that I would have to completely torture her, but she has enough of a stain that I can let the animal in me have some fun. This is exactly what I need.
Sliding my finger down the image of her cheek, my cock swells painfully, trapped by my leather pants. Groaning, I loosen the button and unzip myself, just to give me a little more room. She's perfection. Caitlin. I repeat her name like a mantra, solidifying it deep into my brain. Her image fills my head, sending shivers sliding down my spine and settling deep in my balls. Oh yes. She's definitely the one. And this time, it will be me who walks away.
Setting the list to the side, I make my way out of the small room and back over to the kitchen. Just to the side, right where the pantry should be, I open the door, revealing a set of stone steps. Easing my way down, I breathe in the smell of leather and sex.
Fathers, but it's been way too long. With a snap of my fingers, the candles surrounding the space flicker to life. Various implements and furniture gleam in the flickering light.
I skim my hand over the leather table in the center before setting some weight on it. The bed dips down and starts to flip, but I put my hand on the head and start to turn it the other way. Perfect. The bed makes a full rotation without making a sound. Smiling, I set it to where it stands upright and lock it into place.
Already I can picture Caitlin strapped down, her lean body bound and spread before me. Reaching down, I shift myself again. Heaven’s if I’m already getting this hard just thinking about her, how difficult will it be when she’s actually here in front of me?
Walking over to my rack of tools, I let my fingers trail along the various implements. Giddiness rushes through me as I finger the falls of my favorite flogger. Oh yes, this is just what I need to get my head back into the game.
Next to the floggers, I inspect the various whips, ensuring all of them are in good condition. Taking one, I heft it in my hands a few times, letting the weight and feel soothe me. I uncoil it, letting the tip slither along the floor for a moment before pulling it back and hurling the tip forward.
With a tremendous crack, it thunders in the empty room. Smiling, I coil it back up and put it on the rack. The paddles and canes take up residence after the whips. The wood gleams in the candlelight, twinkling and sparkling, ready to work.
I pause and glance around the room in its entirety, satisfied that everything is set for the upcoming days. With a smirk, I wave my hand, extinguishing all the candles in the room, plunging it into complete darkness. Oh, yes, this will do perfectly.
Rubbing my hands together, I start back up to the main house. I can't snatch her yet. But soon. Soon Miss Caitlin will be sobbing, squirming, and moaning in my grasp. My blood pulses through my body, thick and hot. My aching cock swells even more at the thought of her rosy backside with my cum sliding down her inner thighs. But from which hole? Hmmm. That is indeed something to ponder.
Tucking myself back in, I zip up my pants and head back upstairs. I walk over to my small leather crafting bench and pull out a hank of charcoal suede. Perhaps a new toy to use on her? Or a new set of cuffs? Grinning, I set out my tools and start measuring, ideas flowing through my brain.
A loud crash fills the cabin, startling me from my work. Glancing up, I spy Kris, knocking the snow from his shoes, scattering the wet mess across my wooden foyer. I stifle a groan as he makes his way towards me.
“You’re making a mess, Claus.”
He looks over to where the snow is puddling on the floor and shrugs. “You’ve got elves. What’s the big deal?”
My teeth grind together as I clench my fists. “That’s not what they’re here for, and you know it.”
Kris shrugs and snaps his fingers a few times, his eyes darting about expectantly. When no one comes, he levels a glare at me. “Where are your workers? Don’t they know who I am?” Glancing about once more, he slips his coat off and holds it out, as if I’m just supposed to drop everything and take it from him.
I roll my eyes and set my tools down before making my way over. “Trust me, everyone knows who you are.”
With a sharp tug, I yank it from him and hang it on the rack near the door. The matted fur looks out of place next to the gleaming mahogany it’s hanging on. Bopping it a few times, I try and fail to get the dampness out.
“I gave my elves time off to mourn your father’s passing.”
Waving his hand at me, he slips past and heads straight for the bar. “Why would they need a day off? Doesn’t that defeat their purpose?”
My fingers curl into fists as I watch him hunch over and dig about through my bottles. The urge to yank him away and toss him out into the snow twitches through my arms and hands. But I refrain.
Slumping forward, I take a step back. No good will come of me giving into my baser desires right now. Our relationship is already tenuous, and anything can upset this delicate balance.
“Perhaps if you told me what you’re looking for?” I wince as the bottles clink together.
Holding my breath, I will Kris to see the ancient bottle he’s about to smack with his hand. It comes out in a whoosh as he slides over and pilfers through my more modern collection.
"Where in the candy cane forest is your eggnog?"
With a deep inhale, I slide my way over and pick out the bottle just in front of his face. "You mean this one?" I plop it into his outstretched hands and make my way back to my chair.
He can have the damned bottle for all I care. It's not like I drink any of that crap. I glance over to see him looking back and forth before shrugging and popping the cap open.
Lifting the bottle to his lips, he winks and starts downing the awful liquid. Yep. It's definitely his now. Turning my attention back to my table, I start marking off my designs with a piece of chalk, pointedly ignoring Kris poking about through my stuff. I'll just burn all of it later.
“Ahh. I see you got my note!”
I glance over and see him grinning ear to ear as he looks down at his letter.
“Find anyone yet?” He picks up the tome and riffles through it, a gleam twinkling in his eyes. “Can’t believe how huge this thing is. It’s at least twice the size of my list. Holly Jolly,” he swears as only a Santa can. “The world is a worse place than I thought."
Growling, I place my chalk to the side and level a glare at him. "Drop the list, Claus. I won't ask you again."
The smile turns feral as he stalks towards me. Puffing up, I stand my full height, coming at least a half a foot taller than him.
"Or what? What in the first day of Christmas do you think you're going to do about it?"
Snarling, I lean down, my face a breath away from his. "Drop. My. List."
My horns ease their way from my skull with a familiar agony. I let the pain wash over me, grounding me somewhat.
Kris tosses it down onto my chair before rolling his eyes. "You don't have to be so touchy. It's not like there are any good ones in there. Most of the naughty ones are too old to enjoy your brand of justice."
Chuckling, he sits down on the hearth, turning his hands to the roaring fire for a bit. Shadows play over his face as the firelight licks at him. For just that infinitesimal moment, the clown gives way to something more pensive and somber.
"I take it you know about the funeral?"
I snort and pick up my list before sitting back down. "You mean the one I wasn't invited to?"
The look he shoots me is haunted. There are shadows under his eyes that I've never seen before. For the first time since I've known him, Kris actually looks old. Sadness swamps me as I look back out over the frozen tundra. My heart squeezes in my chest, robbing me of my breath for a moment.
"You know that wasn't my decision." His voice is hoarse and soft, almost drowned out by the howling wind.
I clench my fingers together, digging my nails into my palms, letting that tiny bite of pain keep me from reaching out and throttling him. "You could have overturned it."
"What, and actually let you sully my father’s memory? Are you mad?" Kris stares up at me, his eyes wild.
Pain, anger, and something undefinable flits through his gaze as he watches me.
“He was my father too,” I whisper, the hurt lancing through each syllable.
“Suck pine sap,” he bites out, his face turning red. “He was never your father." In one fluid movement, Kris rises from the hearth and throws the rest of the eggnog into the fire.
The flames sputter and burst up, lighting up every corner of the room for a moment before dying back down to an acceptable level.
I also rise, leveling Kris with my darkest glare. "He was more of a father than my own, and you know it."
Snorting, Kris makes his way over to his coat. “Yes, you’re right. Father did always like strays.”
With a snarl, I lunge towards him. Only the slight whisper of sound alerts me we're not alone. Before my brain can respond, a strong band of arms wrap around my waist and pull me back. Growling softly, I scent the air. Damn Rudolf. Despite being taller and broader than I am, he manages to sneak into places without so much as a breath of sound.
"That's enough, Asmon. Don't make me confine you."
Breathing erratic, I twist and turn, trying to free myself of Kris' guard. "Let me go, Red. This doesn't concern you."
With a sigh, he simply wraps his arms around me tighter. "I wish that were so, but you know the rules. Stand down."
We stay locked in that embrace for countless minutes. Kris watches the scene, a gleeful smile crossing his face. "That's it. Down boy."
Red tenses behind me. What does he think I'm going to do? I'm not planning on killing Father Christmas, but he could at least let me deck him one. Once my breathing evens out, he eases his hold until his arms hang around me in a limp circle.
"You good?"
Easing out of his arms, I turn and raise an eyebrow. "What do you think?"
He sighs and brushes his chestnut hair back. "You got to stay calm with him."
"You think I don't know that asshole?"
"Woah, woah," Red holds his hands up in front of him. "Don't get pissy with me. I'm not the one about to beat up Santa Claus."
"I'm tired of you two carrying on like I'm not even here."
Both of us turn to Kris. He crosses his arms, stretching the tight coat over his frame. His blue eyes flash as he looks us over before whirling back towards the door and out into the snow.
"I'm sorry you can’t be there. I know how much he meant to you." Red's eyes mist over as he looks towards the open door. "He's just grieving. You can't fault him right now."
Snorting, I make my way over to the door with Red. The cold air steals my breath but cools the heat flowing through me. "He's always been an ass. You know that."
He shakes his head as he eases out the door. "I still don't know what happened to you two. You used to be inseparable."
"You know why."
He lays his hand on my arm, his brown eyes glistening. "Truly, I don't."
Shrugging him off, I remain silent and point outside. "Your master's waiting."
Red's eyes snap and spark, his lips thinning. "Fuck you."
The moment he reaches the threshold, I slam the door and lean against it. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to dispel the images swirling through. I shake my head, trying to toss them out, but they remain. Just as strong as they were all those decades ago.
Groaning, I open my eyes, taking in the mess still on my floor—nothing like work to get me out of my head. Shoulders slumped, I shuffle my way into the kitchen to grab the mop. Good thing Fredrick isn't here today. Kris wouldn't have made it out of here alive.
I spend several minutes mopping up the water, making sure not one drop remains. Dropping to the floor, I run my hand over the ancient wood, feeling the grains for potential warping. Satisfied that Kris hadn't ruined it, I put the mop back up and head back over to the window.
The twinkling lights of the funeral procession winding its way through the drifting snow, catch my gaze. Family. The word doesn't mean much when you're on the wrong side of it.
A cold, bitter wind howls around the massive cabin. I ignore all of it as I stare out into the expanse of white. Gripping the windowsill, I simply watch until the twinkling lights disappear. With a groan, I pull myself away, easing over to the small bar near my work studio.
The clinking of ice is barely audible over the massive gale. It’s like even the weather knows a good man is being laid to rest today. I grip the glass in my hand, trying not to let my mind dwell on it. He’s lived far longer than any would expect. I should remember the joy he brought to everyone instead of mourning his passing.
With a growl, I hurl the empty cup into the fireplace, a satisfied stillness creeping in as the glass shatters into a million pieces. It’s not Kringle’s passing that I mourn; it’s Kris taking up his mantle. Instead of learning at his father’s side, he’s spent his days filled with carousing and drinking eggnog.
It’s a wonder the old man didn’t leave him to fend for himself. Jackass wouldn’t last one day out here in the wilds. A smile eases across my face as I imagine Kris going toe-to-toe with a polar bear.
Unfortunately, Kringle always had a soft spot for kids. Rubbing my hand over my chest, I blink back the sudden tears that threaten to escape. He never once raised his voice to me in anger. To think, my uncle showing more charity to me than my dear old dad.
Casting a scowl over at the portrait of my father hanging prominently over the fireplace, I start to rethink where I threw my glass. His haughty visage would have been a much better target and far more satisfying.
Pulling out another glass, I manage to fill it up and take a swig before more murderous thoughts threaten to make me throw it. The burn as the liquid flows down my throat grounds me for a moment. Kringle was always a father to me, and now, at the moment I needed to be by his side the most, I’m turned away.
I grip the glass again and close my eyes, forcing my breathing to slow. At this rate, I’ll have no more glasses and will have to swig the whiskey directly from the bottle. I eye the drink in question but shake my head. That’s a level I would never stoop to.
I pour myself another drink and make my way over to the sitting chair in front of the fire. From here, I’m able to watch as fireworks light up the sky as they send Kringle on to become one with the winter night. I close my eyes and say a few words to the stars, hoping to help ease him on his journey.
It’s not fair for such a fine man to leave this earth. Hopefully, he’ll be able to join in with the other Father Christmases before him and bring joy and hope to the word. That any Santa should be so lucky.
Acid burns in my stomach as I watch the display. Nothing but an ostentatious show. Knowing Kringle as I did, this isn’t what he would have wanted. He would want to slip away as quietly as he came.
Curling my lip in contempt, I look back up at my father’s portrait and down the rest of the whisky in a gulp. After I salute him with the empty glass, I set it on the small table next to me and pull out my naughty list. Flipping through, I look through all the names and faces until I find Caitlin once more.
Her beautiful face beams out from the pages. She looks so innocent and fresh—someone I’d expect to find in Kris’s harem instead of the dregs of my dungeon. Smiling, I close my eyes and slide my fingers down to stroke myself through the leather. Yes. She’s exactly what I need. She will be the perfect distraction for me.
