Christmas Story - By Unferth!

"Christmas" - By Unferth

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“Shall we dance?” She had stretched, ever so slightly onto her toes, so that her words came as a breath in his ear, her perfume sweet to his nose. As he hesitated, she brushed her lips against his “or perhaps you’d like to hold me as I dance or” – she pirouetted, graceful even in her high heels, so that she stood finger-tip apart from him, head tilted in question “would you just like to watch me?”

He looked away, awkward. He’d not been surprised when she’d said earlier that she was a dancer, she’d moved with a lithe elegance, the black of her dress catching the flaring and flickering as she lit candles in the flat. “I’m afraid I can only manage Gangnam Style – and that badly!”

Her head tilted again as she smiled– he couldn’t decide if he found the mannerism irritating or endearing. “We should put some music on, anyway.” She dropped his hand, turned and quickly traced the rack of CDs with her finger. He couldn’t see the title, just the red sleeve and smiling santaclause on the cover before she opened it, pulled out the CD and left the open case on the TV, and kneeled down to the CD player beneath. He watched her hemline rise – he still couldn’t see if the sheer of her thighs came from stockings or tights – and her skirt pull taut over her buttocks. “I don’t have any PSY” She turned, dropped her hands to the carpet “but Gangnam Style it is. You sit astride me!”

From the speakers, a keyboard played a simple waltz rhythm http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjmGbI-Mnys

“I’ve never danced Gangnam to Saint Cliff!” Gingerly, he stepped over her, eased himself gently into the small of her back

“Me neither” she twisted her head round, so he could see her smile “Do you mind sitting a bit further back? Don’t want to damage myself”

“The child is a king…” he felt her rock beneath him, backwards and down, “…The carollers sing…” and forwards again, “..the old is past…”; back again: her bottom must have been pressed against her heels: his knees bent, his thighs nestled into the wide gold belt round her waist, and he rested his fingertips on her shoulders so that the straps of her dress peeped out between his fingers “…there’s a new beginning…” as she pivoted forward again, he felt her muscles tense beneath his fingers. “…Dreams of Santa…” his hands slid over her, so that her shoulders cupped in the palm of his hands ”… dreams of snow…” and, as she rocked forward again, he let her lift his feet off the carpet, let his fingertips flow across the warm sculpture of her shoulder bones. “…Fingers numb…” with his weight fully supported on her back, he could better feel the satin of her skirt as it slid between her hips and his thighs,”… faces aglow” He moved forward as she did, then, gripping her tightly between his knees leaned forward further, so he was almost laying flat on her back, his hands gripping her arms just above her wrists.

“Christmas time, Mistletoe and Wine…” He’d expected her to rock backwards again, “…Children singing Christian rhyme..” and was slightly unbalance as instead she swayed her hips. “…With logs on the fire…” from left to right in time to the singing: “…and gifts on the tree..” he heard her sharp intake of breath as he momentarily squeezed harder with his knees “…A time to rejoice in the good that we see”

“A time for living, a time for believing…” He was ready for the change this time, sitting straight, his palms on the cool smoothness of her dress back, his fingertips on the warmth of her skin “…A time for trusting, not deceiving…” his feet brushing the floor as she rocked, slowly backwards, then forwards again “…Love and laughter and joy ever after…” He wondered if, in the next verse “…yours for the taking, just follow the master.” he’d be able to kiss the nape of her neck, just beneath the knot of almost-black hair.

“Christmas time, Mistletoe and Wine Children singing Christian rhyme…” Then he realised, as he enjoyed the sensation of her hips, swaying beneath him in time to the chorus, that the back of her neck was stationary. “…With logs on the fire and gifts in the tree…” So he leaned forward, squeezing her waist, gripping her wrists, and gently touched the vertebra of her neck with his lips. “…A time to rejoice in the good that we see” Her gentle moans of pleasure as he kissed again counterpointed, in a dusky contralto, the melody of the song.

***

“I’ve set the CD so that it only plays one track at once” she explained, in the silence after the choirboy’s solo. He stood up: she stood up, stretched, then wrapped her arms around him again, pushed her body into his. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you? Again? But this time you can have reins! Its not proper Gangnam without reins.” She stepped back, reached to the back of her head and removed one, two three hairclips, and waves of hair cascaded down her back. As she turned quickly on her toes, to put the clips next to the CD box on the television, her hair flowing in the candlelight, seeming black against her pale skin, rich chocolate against the black of her dress, and casting a dark shadow across her belt. She tilted her head again, laughing. “Why don’t we up the stakes? If you can stay on my back as I dance, you choose the next track. If you can’t, I get to choose?”

“I don’t know which track is which”

“Ah, but I do! And it’s my flat, so I’ll make the rules up to give myself some advantage!” She dropped to her hands and knees again “Come on, think of a number from one to – er twenty, I think. But not three. Cliff was three.”

“One”

He sat astride her again as she pressed buttons under the TV. Then those chords http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MzczoqLBWAY “A good choice! If I was standing up I’d have my air guitar out.” Then suddenly her head was shaking, her body writhing in time to the music. He couldn’t catch her hair, and the smoothness of her back offered nothing, so he hooked his fingers into the gold of her belt, braced his knees into her waist with his feet and hung on as her upper body thrashed and shocked to the music.

“What will your daddy do…” She paused: the only movement was her breathing, heavy from her exertions “…When he sees your Mama…” and he took the opportunity to lean forwards, grab handfuls of her hair “…Kissin' Santa Claus?..” and pulled it tight, hoping that the reins she’d offered would control her ” “ …Ah ah” “Ah ah” – she sang along and as the music picked up the tempo again – she’d evidently caught her breath - “Are you hanging up a stocking on your wall?...” not headbanging now – his hold of her hair stopped that “…Are you hoping that the snow will start to fall?...” but rocking, twisting “…Do you ride on down the hillside in a boggy you have made?...” shaking and singing, suddenly rearing “…When you land upon your arse then you've been Slade.”

How she turned so quickly after he’d fallen of her back he didn’t know. He managed a rueful smile “I’m not sure that’s quite the right lyric”

“I threw you!” the singer’s cry of “Merry Christmas” became her cry of triumph!

***

The gold belt joined the hairclips on the television: her hemline dropped ever so slightly “Can’t give you too many things to hold on to! Ready for the next round?” She dropped to her hands and knees again, her dress more fluid now that the belt did not restrain it. “And it’s my turn to choose. Lets have thirteen!”

“Unlucky for someone” He sat, carefully on her back, gathered handfuls of her hair, and gave her ribs an experimental squeeze with his knees as she pressed the buttons on the CD player. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VCEZEOYdfwo

“DaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDa” her hair held her head still, but her shoulders shook violently to the music until the straps of her dress pulled to guitar tightness… “DaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDaDa” and at the cymbal splash, she arched her back. “Santa Claus is coming to town” And suddenly her head reared towards him: instinctively, he grabbed hold of her, almost letting go of her hair, then feeling the softness of her breasts push against his hands as she dropped back to all fours “Santa Claus is coming to town” This time, his face was filled with her hair, her perfume: he scrabbled with his feet to stay seated. “You’d better watch out, you’d better not cry, you’d better not pout, I’m telling you why.” He was more – or less ready for her this time, holding her shoulders through her hair, letting his legs take much of his weight, and able to enjoy the sensation of her back pressing against him…

“He's making a list…” She moved more gently now – perhaps tiring: he slipped forwards slightly, watching as the dress rucked and crinkled above her waist “…And checking it twice…” and pinned the hank of her hair to the back of her neck with his hand…” …Gonna find out who's naughty and nice…” and squeezed her with his knees, and very gently tapped her buttocks. “Santa Claus is coming to town” That gave her energy! “Santa Claus is coming to town” But he was ready: keeping his balance. Another tap on her arse – definitely not tights! And this was a dance he understood. He would choose the next track!

Chance Meeting - Epilogue (Paladin)

Chance Meeting Epilogue

A small crowd waited across the lobby for the next elevator to arrive. I walked out of the breakfast lounge and paused at the fringe. A few of the business men glanced my way but without my suit I doubted many placed me as the one who’d left with the blond they’d all been salivating over. 

Now thoughts of my blond pony girl were far more interesting than contemplating the opinions of overweight middle management types. My blond had fought then submitted to me on the mats. Even now I could hardly believe the ease with which she’d slipped into the role I’d offered her. If the wrestling had been the opening of her mind, then riding her back to my room had been a revelation. 

I had physically exhausted my blond pony and then forced her on with the deliberate intent to break her will. As I’d repeatedly dropped my weight onto her oil slicked back and slipped up her spine she’d gone beyond play, beyond fantasy and had finally given me her power and control. In that moment I had felt the intoxicating power of knowing she’d surrendered completely and would obey any direction, any whim I cared to indulge.

I’d held that power in my hand as firmly as I’d held her hair and then I’d released her. That strange mix of submission and freedom had flooded her senses. 

It was really too soon to be thinking back on last night, my body was responding far too quickly.

A hand touched my arm, startling me out of my memories. A girl around nineteen or twenty stood next to me. It took me a moment to recognise the red hair of the girl who had encountered me mounted on my blond. Without the cocktail dress and make-up she looked younger than she had. She was wearing a hooded sweatshirt zipped down to show a hint of a blue sports top and her hair fell down her back in a long, single braid.

“Did you do it?” she asked.

“Do what?” I offered her nothing.

She looked around but no-one was paying us any attention. “I know it was you in the elevator.”

“Do you?”

“Well you were wearing a suit and sitting on top of a blond’s back at the time but yeah I’m pretty sure.”

I smiled as the doors opened and moved forward. The redhead caught my arm again. “This one’s full, you should wait for the next one.”

“It’s not that full.”

She shrugged, “okay I don’t mind carrying this on in a small room full of other people.”

I frowned but let the doors close. “So what is it you want to know?”

She moved a little closer, “did you ride her all night?”

“For a fair portion of it, yes.”

“Did she end up being your pony thing?”

“My ponygirl slave, yes she did.”

“She was weak anyway.”

“Really?” I looked her slowly over, noting the tone and shape of her body.

“Yeah, I’ll bet I could have kicked her ass and made her my slave easily enough.”

I smiled but said nothing. Although the thought of the two of them fighting it out for dominance was a pleasant tingling thought.

“What did you make her do?”

“Apart from wrestling her and riding her?”

“Yeah did she have to, you know” she glanced around.

“No she didn’t have to but when she submitted to me it was a natural way of showing she accepted my dominance.”

“You couldn’t dominate me,” she challenged. Slowly she unzipped her sweatshirt. The blue sports top ended just below the curve of her breasts, revealing a toned stomach and tiny lycra gym shorts. “I’m supposed to be going to the gym but,” she left the sentence unfinished.

I decided in an instant to see just how far this girl’s bravado would take her. 

“Take off your sweatshirt.”

She hesitated for a moment then pushed it back off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She placed her hands on her hips and stared defiantly at me. She was a little shorter than my blond and more obviously muscled, plus she has the absolute certainty and confidence in herself that only comes with youth.

Riding her would be so challenging but that would make victory even more exciting.

“Get down on all fours.”

“Here? But we’ll be seen.”

I shrugged, “the blond was brave enough to risk being seen.”

It was amusing watching the conflict cross her face. She didn’t want to be embarrassed but overriding that she didn’t want to think that my blond ponygirl was stronger or braver than she was.

Slowly she crouched down, almost as if she was reaching to get her sweatshirt. Then her knees touched the polished marble floor. Without realising it I was holding my breath, watching her intensely. She lowered herself until she was fully kneeling, then with an exhaled breath she rocked forward. The sound of her hands landing seemed overly loud but there she was on all fours in front of me.

Her back looked strong and the natural curve of her spine promised a yielding but powerful seat. The soft curve of her breast contrasted with the firmness of her stomach and the muscles in her shoulders and arms. She was built to be ridden!

The elevator doors slid open.

Before I could hesitate or change my mind I stepped over her and dropped my weight heavily onto her back. She gasped but recovered so quickly, her back literally thrusting back up under me. 

I caught up the long braid and drummed my heels against her thighs. She sprang forward and I clamped my thighs along her sides to steady my balance. We hit the entrance to the elevator in such a rush that I had to lean back and check her forward motion with her long braid. 

As the doors closed she spun without warning. I wrapped my legs around her waist and squeezed. She reacted by spinning the other way, then bouncing her back up and down.

Power. She was all power and attitude. She stopped facing the doors. The reflection showed her chest heaving with the exertion but the look on her face was undaunted. 

I could feel the muscles tensing under me. I pulled her head back, “save your energy pony, you’re going to need it.”

She resisted, moving restlessly under me despite the tight grip I maintained on her head. “I’m not your pony yet,” she growled.

I laughed. This girl would fight to the end. She wouldn’t submit just because she was tired or unable to throw me. I would have to impose my will on her at all times, any let up and she would take her chance. Adrenaline pumped as I looked to the battle ahead.

“Oh you’ll get your chance to prove that.” Keeping a tight grip on her hair I reached out and pushed a button. She quickly tried to move out from under me but I’d expected that and just as quickly had my weight centred on her back again.

“Where are we going?” She demanded. Then she paused, “did that blond slave put up as much of a fight?”

“Up to the roof. Why so determined to better her?” I asked genuinely interested.

Some of the tension went out of her and I let a length of braid slide between my fingers. “When I first saw you siting on her back I didn’t know if I should be amazed, shocked or if I should call the police. I mean you don’t usually see a girl in her underwear being ridden in an elevator. Then you made her talk and you seemed so powerful. I wandered what would make her want to be under you like that. Then she gave me a look and I knew she was telling me to back off cause you were hers.”

“I’m surprised you even cared,” I interrupted.

She nodded, “I’ve always been too competitive but right then I just wanted to give that blond slave the beating of her life. I wanted you to watch while I beat her down and made her cry and admit that I was the better, stronger girl and that you should be trying to ride me.”

I drew in a deep breath, I really didn’t know what to say and at that moment my heart was pounding.

“Why are we going to the roof?”

“Lots of space and pads and the first classes don’t start until midday today.”

She moved and my legs tightened instinctively, “just seeing if you were awake,” she laughed. “I’m not going to let you win,” she added.

“I’d be very disappointed if you did,” I replied.

“We’re nearly there. I want you to tell me something like you told that blond.”

I understood what she meant. I reached forward and ran my hand up her neck and lifted her chin. “I’m going to ride you pony. I’m going to dominate and control you and when you’re begging me to stop and let you rest I’m going to keep riding you until your muscles are quivering and shaking.” 

She was trembling under me and I could tell from the look in her eyes it was with excitement not fear. I whispered into her ear, “I will ride you until you collapse under me and then I will put you on your back and sit on your chest. That way I will be able to look into your eyes while you’re submitting to me. Once you have admitted that you’re beaten and that you’re my obedient ponygirl slave I’ll let you up and then I’ll ride you and you’ll obey my every command.”

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. I grabbed at her braid and tightened my legs as she exploded out into the sunlight. I whooped and brought my hand down firmly on her backside. the battle was on!