The Twelve Hot Days of Christmas Read online

  I put my hands between my legs.

  “Next,” she said.

  “Clit,” I said.

  “Touch it,” she repeated the order.

  I spread my lips apart and shuddered as my index finger made contact. I felt my neck burn.

  She swatted me with the riding crop. “There’s nothing wrong with exploring your body,” she explained. “How are you supposed to tell me what you want if you can’t bring yourself to say the words?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  She swatted me again. The welt on my ass stung.

  “Don’t apologize.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “This isn’t about punishment,” she said. “It’s behavior modification. You’re learning good behavior. Now, it’s time for your reward.”

  My heart swelled with pride. Even though I’d failed by blushing, I was getting better at vocalizing my desires.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “I want to make you come,” I said. And I did. I was thankful for the progress we’d made. I felt great and I wanted to make her feel great too.

  “I don’t know if you are ready for that yet.”

  I hung my head and fought back the sadness.

  “I want you,” she told me. “But in order for the experience to be satisfying for me, I think we need to work on getting you reacquainted with yourself first.”

  I nodded.

  “When was the last time you came?”

  I blushed again. “I don’t know...a few months ago.”

  “By yourself? Or with a man?”

  “A man.”

  “When was the last time by yourself?”

  “Longer,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “I never thought it was right to squander an orgasm.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “If I had one by myself, then I might not be able to have one later.”

  “So you stockpiled your orgasms?” she asked. “Saved them up for your partners?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d say that was kind of you if I didn’t think that was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard.” She laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that indicated disgust.

  I almost apologized but caught myself.

  “You’re the one who’s going to come,” she said. “First, you’ll do it yourself. And Then, I’ll make you.”

  “I don’t think that will work.” I hesitated.

  She swatted me again with a harder blow.

  “Ouch,” I said.

  “Just who do you think is in charge here?”

  “You are, Mistress.”

  * * * *

  My self-induced orgasm was a long time coming, perhaps due to nerves. It felt awkward to be watched. No one had ever wanted to watch me before. Mistress sat in an armchair she’d made me push into the corner closest to the bed. When I was done, she said, “What were you thinking about while you masturbated?”

  I didn’t know what I feared more, telling her my thoughts or being caught in a lie. I opted for truth.

  “I was thinking about having an orgasm as quickly as possible so this would be over,” I said.

  “That’s what I thought,” she said. “You looked like you were thinking too much.”

  “What was I supposed to think about?”

  “Moments,” she said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You need to stop worrying about the destination and start enjoying the ride.”

  “I did enjoy the ride.”

  “No,” she said. “You enjoyed the orgasm, but not how you got there.”

  “I don’t see what the difference is.”

  “You will.”

  She got up from the chair and joined me on the bed. She straddled me, hips aligned over mine, and rocked back, supporting her weight on her heels. Her bra and panties were black, just like her hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail high atop her head.

  “What do you see?” she said.

  “You, the bed, the chair, the drapes.”

  “What about the dresser? Can you see that?”

  I turned my head to the left. “Yes.”

  “Tell me everything about it.”

  “It’s made of dark wood. Not cherry, something cheaper that’s been stained. It has three small drawers on the first row. You put your white socks in the left compartment, your underwear in the middle, and your colored socks on the right.”

  She leaned forward and began kissing my neck. She kissed from my shoulder up to my ear and said, “What else?”

  “It has three larger drawers underneath the small ones,” I continued softly. “You put your T-shirts in the top, your pants in the middle and heavier clothes like sweaters in the bottom.”

  She kissed her way down to my breasts. She flicked my right nipple with her tongue. “What else?” she said. Then she drew my nipple into her mouth and sucked.

  It was getting harder to focus. I felt a tingling between my legs and squirmed.

  “What else?” she asked again.

  I took a deep breath and exhaled. “The middle drawer is missing a handle and the bottom drawer has a big gouge in it.”

  She kissed her way down my stomach and repositioned herself. She parted my thighs, spreading my legs wide and sat on her haunches between them. I felt exposed.

  “Enough with the dresser,” she said. “Now, tell me about what you smell.”

  I inhaled.

  “The candle,” I said, slowly. “It smells like Christmas. Evergreen and holly?”

  “Good,” she said. She leaned down and began kissing my thigh, working her way up the right side, down the left and back again.

  It tickled and I laughed uncontrollably. She stopped.

  “Smell anything else?”

  I was wet and the faint odor of my arousal was barely detectable. “Me,” I said. “A little.”

  “Would you like to know how you taste?”

  I nodded.

  She slid a finger inside me, withdrew it and held it to my lips. The scent was stronger now, a heady musk. I licked her finger and noticed the scent did not quite match the taste. It was salty, but not bitter. Not at all like what I was expecting—not at all like a man.

  She kissed me. The taste of my sex was still faint on my lips.

  “You taste good,” she said. “I want to taste you some more.”

  As she moved back and buried her face between my legs, her ponytail brushed against my thigh. I felt the goose bumps rising, not just where her hair had touched, but all the way down to my knee.

  Her tongue moved in circles around my clit. She flicked it gently with her tongue and I began to moan. The candles burned and the scent of Christmas filled my nostrils. I noticed the floral print on the drapes was not only azaleas but hydrangeas, as well. I was thinking about that as I felt my thighs began to shake and I lay helpless as the tidal wave of pleasure crashed down on me.

  Mistress backed away, then crawled over my leg and snuggled up next to me.

  “What were you thinking about this time?”

  My body still quivered and I gulped as currents of electricity coursed through me. “Evergreen, azaleas...”

  “The coming orgasm?”

  “No. What you were doing felt amazing. But the end sneaked up on me.”

  She laughed, but this time it was hearty, no disgust. “It’s nice when that happens, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s what I meant about enjoying the ride.”

  “Mistress?”

  “Yes?”

  “When do I get to take you for the ride?”

  “Not tonight,” she cooed into my ear. “But soon.”

  * * * *

  My training had only just begun. Once I’d learned to not overthink things and enjoy the moments, Mistress rewarded me with many orgasms. I longed to return the favor but she continued to deny my requests.

  “I don’t understand why I can’t do this for yo
u,” I said.

  “It’s not that you can’t. It’s that I don’t want you to. Not now.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have a kink of my own,” she said. “I’m your Mistress. But I have other lovers.”

  “I know,” I said. Mistress had told me of the others before our relationship had crossed over to intimacy. I hadn’t met any of them, nor did I expect to. I’d learned to enjoy our time together. Whatever happened when we weren’t didn’t change or diminish the feelings I had for her, though her lack of interest in allowing me to provide her pleasure was beginning to spark jealousy.

  “When you deny my requests and then reference the others, it makes me feel...”

  “Unimportant?”

  “Yes,” I said. “If they provide you pleasure, why do you need me?”

  “Maybe if I explain the kink, it will make more sense. Do you want to know?”

  I was surprised she would reveal this to me. “Yes.”

  “I am Mistress to you. But I have a Master.” I stared at her in silence and after a moment she continued. “There are things he’s taught me, things I can do only for him or only with his permission.”

  “You are only allowed to get off if he says it’s okay?”

  “Yes. He’s taught me how to control my orgasms. He can make me come just by telling me to...without ever touching me.”

  My eyes widened in disbelief. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “I doubted him when he told me about it too,” she said. “If I hadn’t actually experienced it, I probably wouldn’t have believed it was possible.”

  “What do you get out of this? Is it more intense?”

  “Not always,” she said. “The best part is learning how to enjoy being aroused, that not every interaction has to end in orgasm. Sometimes it’s more intense when the time between orgasms stretches. But when you give control of your body over to someone else, the bond between you becomes stronger. It’s a form of intimacy enhancement. Some people find it appealing. Some don’t. It’s not for everyone.”

  I was intrigued. The thought of coming without being touched, coming on command—I had to know if I could do it, too.

  “Mistress, can you teach me?” I begged.

  “I don’t know.” She hesitated. “I’m still learning myself.”

  “What you don’t know we could learn together,” I said.

  She smiled mischievously and simply said, “Okay.”

  * * * *

  Around noon the next day my cell phone rang. “Hello?” I said.

  “Are you ready for your first lesson?”

  “Mistress?” I whispered. She’d never called me during work hours before. I was happy to hear her voice but concerned my co-workers might be listening in. My eyes scanned the office and determined no one had even looked up.

  “Are you ready?” she asked again.

  “Yes.”

  “Go into the bathroom. Once you’re in a stall, I want you to stimulate yourself until you are about to come but don’t…stop just before. When you get home from work, finish what you started.”

  Instinctively I began to protest, but I heard a click as the call went dead and I realized she was gone. Doing what she’d asked at work wasn’t going to be easy. What if someone walked in and heard me? Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the thought. But if I didn’t do it, Mistress would be disappointed and I would be punished. I didn’t want to disappoint her.

  I left the office and took the elevator down to the second floor. The optometrist that had offices on the floor was closed between Christmas and New Year’s, which meant the bathrooms should be unoccupied.

  I pushed the bathroom door open. The room still smelled of pine floor cleaner and it was apparent that no one had been in there all day. The toilet seats in each of the stalls were flipped up from being cleaned the night before, but none of them had been flushed and the water still bright blue with cleaning fluid. I breathed a cautious sigh of relief, hoping it decreased my chances of being caught.

  I chose the stall farthest from the door, turning the latch behind me as I slipped inside. I kicked off my heels and squirmed out of my pantyhose and underwear. I stuffed them into my purse and slipped back into my heels. If someone did walk in, they’d see my feet and with shoes on, nothing would appear out of the ordinary at first glance.

  Masturbating in a public restroom is not sexy. I was thankful for the memory of the moments Mistress and I had shared far away from there. I thought about the azaleas and hydrangeas on the drapes in her bedroom. The sweet scent of her freshly shampooed hair. I thought about the way her black bra pushed her breasts up and the way they sagged slightly without it. I thought about the scar above her left eyebrow and wondered how she gotten it. I thought about how I loved her and all the while I touched myself. My finger alternated between stroking my labia and gently circling my clit. I started to feel a slight tingle and I didn’t want to stop. A few more minutes and I’d be satisfied. I forced the thought from my mind. The whole point of the lesson was to learn about delayed gratification. And as much as I wanted to come right then and there, I wanted more to please Mistress.

  I abruptly dressed, washed up, and splashed cold water on my face before heading back to my desk. The afternoon passed slowly. Somehow, filing the third-quarter sales reports didn’t seem as important as it had when the day began. I continued to work but was acutely aware I was moving a bit slower than usual. My mind kept wandering back to thoughts of going home and finishing the job I’d begun in the restroom.

  On the drive home my thoughts consumed me. The tingling between my legs spread like fire. My neck flushed and my nipples were hard. At home I hastily dropped my briefcase, keys, and purse by the front door. I absently closed it behind me and rushed upstairs to my bedroom.

  The light on my answering machine blinked. I pressed the play button.

  Mistress said, “I hope you had a good afternoon at work. If you’ve been good, make yourself come. If you’ve been bad...”

  The riding crop cracked against something hard, something that wasn’t flesh.

  “...call me.”

  The answering machine beeped and then clicked..

  The message was over, but I played it again. Hearing the lilt in her voice when she spoke of being good or bad made me yearn for her presence.

  I’d been good, so I made myself come. And although I hadn’t been bad, I called her anyway.

  “Mistress?”

  “Were you bad?”

  “No,” I said. “I did what you asked.”

  “Good,” she replied.

  “It was wonderful,” I said. “When can we do it again?”

  “Patience, my sweet. You have other lessons to learn.”

  * * * *

  Mistress handed me a small box wrapped in Christmas paper and adorned with a green bow.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “Some people believe in the twelve days of Christmas.”

  “Christmas is over,” I said, slightly embarrassed. “I don’t have anything else for you.”

  “Just open it,” she said.

  I tore the paper aside and removed the lid. Inside, I found a small purple vibrator ribbed with five gold rings.

  “It’s not really a Christmas gift,” she said. “You’ll need it for our next lesson. But when I saw it in the store, it made me think of the song. I couldn’t resist.”

  “It’s cute,” I said. I took it out of the box and admired it. It was smaller and lighter than many of Mistress’s other toys. “But I thought vibrators were meant to bring on orgasm faster. Sort of counteracts the kink, doesn’t it?”

  “No,” she said. “This is how you’re going to learn about control.”

  “I don’t understand,” I replied.

  “Don’t worry, you will.”

  * * * *

  I knelt naked before her.

  “Insert the vibrator and use your muscles to hold it in,” Mistress said. “Like doing a Kegel.”


  I complied. It was like doing a Kegel, only harder.

  She turned the vibrator on low. The first ring glowed. “Release it when you feel like you are going to come.”

  I didn’t last long and came before I let it slide out. I expected Mistress to be disappointed, but she wasn’t. She praised me for trying.

  “Learning to do this is not easy,” she said. “You’ll get the hang of it, with practice.”

  I nodded.

  “I want you to practice every day until you can hold it in for five minutes on low without coming.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” I said and felt the goose bumps crawl up my arms.

  * * * *

  After months of practice, I was able to hold the vibe on higher settings and for longer periods of time. There were times when I failed, but those times were decreasing in frequency. With each ring’s illumination, I became better at controlling my body and mastering my responses.

  When I reached the fifth ring, Mistress allowed me to have orgasms with the vibe and talked me through it. Sometimes she told me to hold it back, then give me permission to come. Sometimes she’d tell me to stop completely and not allow me to reach orgasm. Sometimes she’d demand I come immediately. Before long, my body had been trained not only to be stimulated by her or the vibe, but also by her voice.

  One day late in the year, Mistress said I was ready to begin work on the final lesson: coming upon command, without physical stimulation but by her voice alone. We’d been practicing for months, building up to this moment. Even though I wanted it to happen, part of me still didn’t believe that it was actually possible.

  “You’ve been working so hard. I’m proud of you,” Mistress cooed.

  I was lying on her bed, fully clothed, remembering the first time I’d come in that room. I was thinking it was almost Christmas again. This year, the burning candle did not smell of evergreen and holly, but instead of cinnamon and nutmeg. The scent of eggnog so was strong, I could almost taste it.

  “Do you want to come for me?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Are you wet?”

  I squirmed. I was. “Yes,” I said.

  She took the vibe out of the box and held it up. The five gold rings sparkled in the candlelight.

  I squirmed again. Looking at it made me want it. Looking at her, smiling a wicked smile, made me want her. I ached for them both.