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Subject: NEW: Ruthie's Christmas Story (MF, d/s, anal, consensual) [1/1]
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I'm posting this story for Gary, who wrote it last year, a little too late to
post for the holidays. It seems the perfect time right now. 

Disclaimer: This story is strictly fantasy, the product of a fertile, fevered
mind. If you are under the age of 18 or live in a community that prohibits
this kind of free expression, please stop reading here and do something else
to occupy your time, like knitting or bowling or playing with "Furby," the
latest kiddie blockbuster.

We grant permission for private use of this story, and gladly accept,
encourage, and appreciate comments. Copyright 1998 RG Publications. All rights
reserved.

Ruthie's Christmas Story (Mf, d/s, anal, consensual) [1/1]
By Gary

The glow of the fire barely touched her here - just enough to illuminate her
softly as he liked. Every year at Christmas she prepared herself during the
hours he was away until the moment of his return drew near and it was time to
slip into the harness. The first few years she couldn't get it on alone and
had to enlist the aid of an elf or two (dwarfish cretins... she hated thinking
of the reviling she'd had to endure to guarantee their silence). But the past
50 years or so she'd been able to do everything alone, as he ordered. It has
taken on the weight of religion, which they'd both lost eons ago.

These moments just before the silence of the northern chill would be broken by
the sound of hoofs furiously beating in the night were her favorites. Her
senses had grown so keen that she convinced herself she could hear the bells
slapping against the sleigh and the sweat falling into the arctic seas, a
gentle rain from a night of exertion and goodwill.

Mrs. Claus had grown to love the harness... the way it caressed her cheeks,
the smell and taste. It was so pliant after all these years that she wore it
as easily as she wore a smile. Thick rolled leather made from discarded reins
and cast off toys. Nothing was wasted up here at the North Pole. The bit was
as wide as his cock and held her mouth open and her tongue down. Worn spaces
on the sides revealed where her molars clamped down. It fit her perfectly now.

The harness was drawn back to an eyebolt on the back wall that he had sunk
into the oak planks many years ago for a clothesline. Thirty years ago he had
added handcuffs to the harness. She had to make sure she slipped her wrists in
last or she'd be caught halfway trussed, which would not please him at all.
She clamped the bit down in her mouth, threaded the reins through the eyebolt,
and then tied each end around an ankle. The harness was well over sixty feet
long so there was plenty of slack in it for her to position herself. One year
she looped bells along the reins in random positions that would add a sonic
dimension to her preparations. That never failed to make her cunt start to
throb. Bells. Fucking bells. It had gotten so she couldn't hear them without
wanting to taste the leather in her mouth and feel the whip on her ass while
the harness held her tight.

When she had her ankles tied, she dropped her red pants to her knees and
wobbled closer to the fire. Looking down, she ripped her white blouse open so
most of the buttons popped off, displaying her breasts encased in a red lace
sheer bra. A stool placed 25 feet from the back wall and nailed to the floor
had a soft needlepoint seat she'd made herself. She positioned herself in
front of it and got on her hands and knees, letting out a soft groan as the
harness stretched and she curled her ankles on either side of the stool. So
now her head was pulled up and her legs kept spread. It was a constant battle
between her harnessed mouth and powerful legs to keep in balance. The seat of
the stool braced against her ass. Finally she reached behind her and slipped
her hands into the cuffs, which she managed to tighten by shaking and
pulling... not an easy chore.

There she waited for him, her head pulled proud and straight, the cock-sized
bit firmly settled in her teeth, her long strong arms held up and behind her,
and her thighs spread by the stool. She could smell her cunt, feel it throb,
and feel her nipples harden. The only sound was the howl of the wind and the
soft jingle, jingle, jingle of the bells on the harness and an occasional snap
from the flames in the fireplace. She was afire. To the south she could just
make out the snort of his lead reindeer and the clacking hoofs getting louder
as the team strode the night to get home to oats and rest. The bells of the
sleigh getting louder and the crack of the whip in the air driving them home
filled her mind. All she could hear were bells and cracks and bells and
cracks. The whip and he were almost home.

She heard them land. He was home again safe. The elves were prattling about
helping with the unhitching and leading the team off to the barn. She heard
the crunch of the snow from his large black boots as he strode towards the
cottage. To all the world the cottage looked deserted, as if she had been
sleeping for hours. But he knew she waited, trussed and wanton, waited for his
hands, his mouth, his whip, his voice, and his cock. She was his fucking whore
and this night was their special night.

As always, she was startled by the blast of arctic air when he swung the door
open. As always, her cunt throbbed as she heard his gasp when he saw her. He
tried to hide it but couldn't. She knew how much he loved her like this. Try
as he might he could not remain detached and cool. Her red pants pulled down
to her knees, her ass colored by the soft orange glow from the fire, her fine
long neck held straight and true, her mouth open and clamped on the bit
exactly the width of his cock. Walking around in front of her and seeing her
cleavage in the red lace bra, barely concealed in the torn blouse, his cock
grew harder. He reached out and stroked her cheek, smiled at her.

"Good evening, my fucking whore," he said. "I see you've been waiting for me."

Mrs. Claus moaned in answer and strained a bit in the harness as he turned to
face the fire and removed his heavy red jacket and white-trimmed hat. "I've
got a present for you, whore," he whispered.

He turned and pulled from his immense bag a thick-handled cat o'nine with
tines as soft as velvet starting a half inch thick tapering down to an eighth.
She moaned involuntarily. This was new. Often he'd use his big hands on her
ass, spanking her till she begged him to fuck her, sometimes the old sleigh
whip that stung with such passion. She tried to turn to watch him as he went
behind her and sat down on the stool but the harness held her straight and
true as it was designed to do.

She heard him unzip slowly and tried imagining that sweet hard cock dropping
out onto her ass. She ached to wrap her mouth around it and bit down harder on
the leather in her mouth. He started to stroke her ass with the tines of the
whip, gently caressing her as he whispered, "My whore, my fucking cunt, my
love. I'm going to tan you, dear. Then I'm going to stretch your asshole with
my cock, ride you the rest of the night as the fucking whore you are."

He reached underneath and ripped her blouse the rest of the way off, held onto
her breasts and squeezed, feeling the hard nipples grow in his palms and
hearing her gasps of pleasure. The room reeked of cunt and cinnamon, nutmeg
and smoke. His cock was fully erect and glistening with pre-cum.

As he did every year - part of their tradition - he bent over her and
whispered, "I love you, Ruth. No woman has ever done for me what you have, my
sweet Mrs. Claus."

She heard the whip unravel and heard the swoosh just before the first blow
took her ass. He delivered fast, furious strokes till she couldn't stand it
and strained at the harness, her pussy aching and dripping juice down her
thighs. Then he smoothed on slow caressing strokes, letting her regain her
composure - except her body wasn't resting. It was straining at the harness
and swelling even more. Her skin felt too small to cover her muscled desire.

He thought to himself how he had found himself when he met Ruth those many
years ago. She drew things out of him he didn't know were there. She indulged
his every whim and encouraged every act. She knew how much he adored her,
loved her, needed her, and was powerless without her.

Her ass was red now, fully tanned and ready. He shoved the whip handle under
her breasts in her cleavage so the tines bent over just under her chin and she
could sense the warmth, smell her flesh on it. He lifted her up so he could
drag his hard cockhead slowly down her ass crack. He loved riding her like
this. It took an immense act of will to draw it away, not to cum immediately,
he was so charged by her.

He spread her ass cheeks and pushed just the head into her asshole, feeling it
open and try to pull him in. Ruth was beyond words now, just moaning and
writhing as the bells jingled and the smells wafted into her head. She heard
the KY jelly squirt out onto his cock and the soft clicking of his palm
working it all over the head and shaft, slowly, passionately, teasing her with
the sound and smells.

Then finally, at last, his cock started pushing into her tight asshole and
they both moaned in unison. This asshole was made for his cock. Ruth's body
was the only one that ever turned him on. Ruth's mind was the only one that
ever engaged him, and this passage... this incredible passage. The first few
inches up her ass were sublime, heated, wonderful, and drawn out. God how he
loved fucking her.

He just eased right in, inch by inch. She couldn't move much due to the
harness. The bells were Pavlovian, making him harder as the leather strained
the more he pushed into her, stretching her head back towards him as he drove
her ass away with his cock. Now he was in her up to the balls and he couldn't
contain his passion. Ruth's asshole was his now and he meant to fuck it
thoroughly. He drove in again and again, deeper, harder, faster, the bells
jingling, the leather slapping, his cock growing impossibly harder and more
strained.

He remembered the other present he had brought home for her this Christmas
Eve. As he slowed his pace in Ruth's asshole he reached into his bag and
pulled out the nipple clamps. Smiling to himself, he thought, "I won't tell
her. I'll just attach them," and he reached underneath, spread the jaws with
his index and thumb and heard her howl as the first clamp bit into her hard
left nipple. Then the right and he felt renewed vigor in her asshole. It was
gripping him, pulling him in harder, opening wider as a wanton mouth
swallowing his cock with each thrust.

His mind was going, he was drifting down out of the cortex, becoming something
un-human, just a cock and body, drifting down to the limbic regions where it
was all darkness and stimulation. Her asshole was drawing him down, he
couldn't stop the descent as he fucked her faster and harder, moaning loudly
into the fire.

Now he was all cock, just slamming into her asshole, oblivious to all other
stimulation. Focused. Fucking. Focused. He felt her cumming. Ruth was
thrashing against the reins, head moving side to side, her gasping moans and
shrieks urging him on as he fucked her deeper, harder, faster. He felt his cum
in his toes, his calves, his thighs, his balls, his cock and torso. His head
would explode if he couldn't erupt in her asshole. God, he wanted Ruth. Ruth,
only Ruth as he started to erupt wave after wave of hot thick Christmas cum,
spiced and randy, thick and verdant all for Ruth. Only Ruth. Only Ruth... his
fucking whore.

The End

For other Ruthie stories, please see "ruthie's Story" (all 12 chapters,
recently reposted) by LineMstr@aol.com, "Ruthie's Afternoon" by
Erotales@aol.com, the Ruthie quartet ("Ruthie's Sweet Night Of Passion,"
"Ruthie's Coffee Break," "Ruthie's Submission," and "Ruthie's Defilement") by
Sybian1@aol.com, and Gary's earlier posting, "Ruthie's Glen Interlude.


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