“Oh! It’s beautiful!” The tears freely spill down my cheeks at the memory brought to life of Krampus placing the crown of golden stars upon my head, coronating me his queen before he knelt to the frost-gilded gazebo floor, shifted my cape, and folded my gown ends to capture my shoes. My breath catches from the memory replay of how he’d removed my transparent crystalline slippers and bowed his head to the ground to kiss the ground, where my bare feet had stood.
As an ode to traditional Nordic ceremonies, Krampus had raised a gleaming sword before placing it before me in a testament to his protection. By ceremonial standards, I would have given him a sword, but I am more than content not tobe the weapon wielder. When my role as an immortal human is far more of a provider to give him my emotions, as well as the keeper of his heart, I will gladly accept and surrender to his protection and possession.
Handfasting came next, then Thor’s blessing, then drinking from the same goblet of wine. I smile as the scene changes to the running of the bride. Of course, he’d let me win. Drinking mead from an animal horn was certainly a…different experience. It left me lightheaded, warm, tingly, and fuzzy on our wedding night. So much so, that Krampus had simply put me to bed after the festivities, and we waited till the next day to begin our honeymoon.
And Krampus gave me a kitten!
After breakfast, we touched our honeymoon Yule log, made a wish, and lit it in the cabin fireplace. As long as it burned, we made love, only pausing for Norwegian treats and nature’s calls.
Somehow, he’s managed to capture it all, everything, including the honeymoon, where he bound me in spiraling red ribbon and gold chains and suspended me from the cabin ceiling. Complete with a kinky array of toys stimulating me. Much like the time in the gazebo, except he took his place directly under me and commanded that I not drip on him while he read more monster smut out loud.
I failed.
Resting my head against his soft fur, I take in the parade of illusions that kindles a deep heat in my belly…and my heart. Krampus kisses my brow and toys with the ends of my curls before carrying me up the spiraling staircase with all its garland and twinkling lights.
I beam at the kitten stirring from her little bed in the corner of the main suite. She stretches with her claws out like most cats do and ambles over to us.
“Aww, Birchess,” I coo to the kitten, whose name is a play of the word ‘Duchess’. “Did you miss us?”
She makes little scratchy ‘meow’ sounds while lowering her head as if showing off her prized horns. Tinier than my pinky finger, at present, but I can tell they’re growing. Of course, Krampus found her as a stray wandering around Krampus Haven.
After Krampus gives her some attention and me some amusement with how she chases his tail but never catches it, he sweeps me into the adjoining bathroom. My insides are already stoked, and they nearly melt when he shows me the great bathtub with its balcony opening, candles all around the ledges, and the Christmas rose petals covering the water.
“Krampus…” I choke on his name, and the dreamy grin he gives me radiates through my blood and charges straight for my pussy.
“Come. I need to get my dirty girl cleaned up.”
Chapter 15
“You always loved the monster…”
TWYLA
Countless 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 nearlynaked 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.
