StarofChristmas Read Online Free PDF Page B

that’s why I can’t wait for the orgy to finish.” I lean
into his caressing fingers. “I want this. With you.”
    “Is there anything I can do to make it better for you?”
    His generosity elates me. How many guys give a shit about my
pleasure?
    “You know, I never permit men to tie me up. Ever. I’ve never
played with someone I felt comfortable enough with to try.”
    “I promise not to hold you down in any way.”
    “No, Rick. I want you to. Please?” I suck his thumb
into my mouth, hoping the frenzy of groans means we’re about to go on. I can’t
wait much longer. “I trust you completely. Show me what you’ve learned.”
    “Star.” His moan disappears beneath the commotion as no less
than a dozen performers exit the stage, sweating, exhausted and dripping come.
    We’re bustled into position. Someone strips off my robe. As
I step onto the contraption that holds my mark, I see a new fire in Rick’s
gorgeous eyes. A determination and dominance I never suspected him capable of
transforms his easygoing nature into something dangerous, something alluring.
    I can’t tear my gaze away. We stare, unblinking, until my
platform rotates, turning my back to him, stealing him from my sight.
    Fake snow drifts onto my upturned face from the rafters
above as the curtain is raised on the Kinkmas pageant grand finale. The crowd
settles into a reverent hush. A narrator bridges the gap between scenes with
some clever monologue about the spirit of the season, unqualified altruism
shared by lovers and the importance of non-material gifts.
    The deep voice exalts the significance of the tree and the
lighting of the star while making lewd comparisons I choose to ignore. All I
can think of is the seductive confidence I glimpsed in Rick’s eyes before this
damn set tore me from him.
    I can’t grab him and bolt for my window because the vertical
triangle separating us turns again. What appeared to be a cut-out of a pine
tree to the audience is revealed as the nucleus of the act. My legs are spread
wide as I stand with my shoulders pressed tight against the slightly reclined
board. Each of my wrists lays a foot or so away from my hips until my body
mimics the form of the tree-shaped platform.
    I hold on to the loops of leather stitched to the surface to
keep myself in the perfect position.
    The set looks disarmingly like a common living room,
something each man or woman in attendance might find welcoming them home in the
early morning hours of this Christmas. It makes it easy for me to imagine I’m
alone with Rick, in his home. When I detect him approaching in my peripheral
vision, I wish it were true.
    “What a beautiful tree I have this year.” He stalks near and
inspects his bounty. He pokes and prods me as he bestows a flurry of
compliments the audience agrees with, if their claps and whistles are anything
to gauge by.
    Rick pauses his speech, deviating from the script before
we’ve been onstage two minutes. I grin, encouraging his spontaneity.
    “I believe I should begin the decoration by adding some
lights.” He crosses to the edge of the stage and yanks on a dangling strand of
tiny white bulbs. They unclip from their outlet with a snap, coiling onto the
floor at his feet. “And perhaps some garland.”
    I barely contain a laugh at Rick’s mischievous smirk and
Tommy waving his arms in an attempt to attract his bouncer’s attention. The
serious arousal creating a bulge at the crotch of Rick’s jeans keeps me in
line. Not to mention the tinsel rope gathered in his fist, which draws my eye
to his gleaming, oiled chest.
    He pets me again when he nears, as though he can’t help but
touch me a little. I arch toward his hand without abandoning my perch or
shifting my limbs from their predetermined positions. I am the tree. I trust
him to metamorphose me from something ordinary into something brilliant.
    Rick ties the garland to my handhold then wraps it snugly
around my wrist. He loops the shimmering silver across my