A CHRISTMAS TALE

She knew that he knew that she was watching him. She cast her predatory gaze over Joseph’s strong body; her eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and neat, tight butt. It amused her to see him nervous; trembling. Almost dropping a priceless ‘rose en famille’ porcelain plate, on loan from the British Museum. She mused on what he would be like to play with; a sweet little Christmas treat. A new pet.


Ulena looked around her antique shop, decorated and displayed for the Christmas festivities. She was satisfied; the exclusive, and expensive interior design guys had been worth it. The fifteen foot blue cedar tree, that she’d had especially imported from Russia, looked superb. It topmost branch reached up to the high ceiling of what had once been a Regency sitting room. Festooned with thousands of tiny blue lights and no other frippery, it was exquisite; mysterious. The opening chapter of a fairytale. The rooms of the old house didn’t look like a shop, with the huge log fire blazing in the hearth. Ulena had wanted the customer to feel as if she, or he, had stumbled into the past; into a wealthy home. You almost expected to see a Regency gentleman, leaning against the mantelpiece, sipping his glass of port; taking his snuff from an engraved silver box. His lady, demure, in a muslin gown, gazing adoringly up at him.


She glanced over to where Joseph was just putting the finishing touches to a grouping of Victorian rocking horses. She smiled a small, secret smile. Joseph; now there was a sweet little submissive. Ulena played with the notion of Joseph stripped and flogged, sobbing, as she forced him to lick her clit. She wondered if Joseph even knew he was submissive; she doubted it. He probably thought he was quite a stud. As if feeling the command of Ulena’s gaze, he raised his eyes to her. She held his gaze; he blushed and looked away, biting his lip.




Finally, he found the courage to approach her. She was bloody attractive after all; but still, just a woman. Joseph was also between girlfriends; he’d tired of his last relationship. But to his shock Sarah had been the one to finish it. She’d told him he wasn’t assertive enough, sexually. She’d knocked his confidence; he needed to get back into the saddle. Asking Ulena, his boss out, was taking a huge leap of faith, but Joseph had confidence in his ability to charm.


“Um, I wondered if you’d like to come out with me…for, er, a drink, or maybe dinner?”


A simple enough question. She wasn’t shocked, disconcerted, or even embarrassed; just that cold, unnerving stare. Perhaps she just didn’t like men; Joseph hadn’t thought of that. But he’d seen her turn her vivacious smile on for the good looking delivery guy; the postman; even that ugly, slimy creep who ran the storeroom. Joseph fidgeted miserably as she scrutinized him.



Joseph wished he hadn’t bloody bothered. He didn’t usually ask women out; they came to him. He’d thought she found him attractive; she was always watching him. Obviously, he’d been wrong. Ulena’s heavily lidded, steel grey eyes looked him up and down, as if he’d just crawled out from a stinking swamp. The stirring music of ‘Oh Come All Ye Faithful,’ playing into the antique shop, faded into the far distance, as he squirmed uncomfortably in front of her. She leaned back in the Georgian chair, watching him. The delicate, deep rose coloured Faberge egg she held between her long, carefully manicured fingers, was worth thousands. She traced the raised gold patterns on the jewelled surface with a fingertip.



The first flakes of snow were starting to fall outside, and the antique shop had been busy all morning. People came into the shop not only to buy the expensive trinkets, but just to marvel at the Christmas charm. They were expecting a fresh surge of customers after lunch, but this was a quiet time. Joseph was aware that he was blushing and still she was silently appraising him, as if he were a horse at an auction, she may, or may not, choose to buy. Her eyes rested on his crotch, as if trying to assess the weight of what was in there.



His cock, joyous to receive the unexpected attention, hardened instantly.


The rousing chorus of the faithful choir harmonizing ‘oh come let us adore him!’, burst into the silence and he jumped, nervously. A small smile played around her generous mouth.


“Let’s get it clear,” Ulena drawled, her exotic accent, laced partly with French, with just a hint of Russian, “I do the asking.” Her low, husky voice hardened his cock into a violent, throbbing erection.


He hadn’t been expecting such a strong rebuff, in fact he hadn’t been expecting a rebuff at all. He was puzzled. He knew he was good looking and possessed a kind of charisma; he raked his fingers through his chestnut hair and tried his charming ‘boy next door,’ smile.


She didn’t respond; not a flicker.


“Was there something else?” she asked, raising a perfectly delineated eyebrow. Her scarlet mouth curved in a parody of a smile.


“Er no,” he stammered. “ Nothing else…thank you.”


He could feel her eyes on him as he walked away.


Damn her, Joseph thought, as he went back to the counter. Why had he let her make him feel so small? It wasn’t as if she was out of his league. He’d been out with women far prettier and probably, smarter too, certainly wealthier; but they held no allure for him. He sensed hidden depths in her; besides he knew damn well she watched him. So if she didn’t find him attractive, what was all that about? But she’d made him a nervous wreck. As she’d scrutinized his crotch he’d been dismayed at his cock’s outrageous behaviour. Usually, he was slow to arouse, but with Ulena’s attention his cock had other ideas. He’d become flustered, wanting to cover the growing bulge with his hands, but he was frozen into immobility.



He put the counter between the rest of the world and his cock, and wondered how quickly he could hobble to the bathroom, and masturbate his erection away. That was something he rarely did; usually, his erections just faded. But this one was persistent, throbbing insistently inside his pants. The image came unbiddened into his mind, of himself stripped, tied up and kneeling before Ulena. His flesh was seared; he’d been recently flogged. Ulena was naked except for thigh high, spiked heel, black leather boots. Her hand clasped the back of his head, forcing him to lap at her clit. Where the hell had that come from? He hated doing that; it was disgusting.



He noticed a customer, gazing with rapt attention at the gorgeous display of antique French music boxes. Despite their phenomenal price tag, they had been selling well. Damn, his erection would have to wait. He prayed that his orgasm wouldn’t explode into a messy chorus in the middle of his sales-patter.



He couldn’t understand why Ulena had had that effect on him. He didn’t consider himself highly sexed, in fact he only usually rose to the occasion when he felt he had something to prove. On the whole he’d found his past girlfriends far too needy. He was a tall, strong guy and they wanted him to be protective; to seduce them, to make the first move. He always had to initiate sex. One girlfriend had liked to dig her sharp nails into his shoulders, just before she came; that had given him a frisson of excitement, but apart from that, she was as bad as the rest of them. They always wanted to know if sex had been good for him? Was that the best time ever? Sometimes they expected him to repeat the performance, just ten minutes later. And they always wanted to know what he was thinking. Joseph hated that.



But he had to get rid of his erection, urgently. He tried thinking bland thoughts. What he’d had for breakfast that morning. Rehearsing the drive home in the Christmas traffic. Remembering all the gifts in the ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’ song. But the image of Ulena’s luscious crimson lips stretched around his thick cock, popped, unbidden, into his head. Orgasm was close. He mustn’t come in his pants. He just mustn’t; he had to get to the bathroom on the second floor. He picked up a stack of books and holding them awkwardly in front of his growing bulge, began to scuttle towards the elevator.



He looked up to see Ulena laughing with a male customer. Flirting outrageously. Cool and casual, in her black suit, her blonde, expensively cut straight hair, swinging level with her neatly chiselled jaw line. Bitch.



He stumbled over the corner of a sumptuous Turkey rug and staggered through the avenue set up with a glittering display of old Venetian glass. The pieces tinkled musically as he lumbered passed. Joseph placed the stack of books down on a fragile Louis Quinze table. He thanked the god of erections that the elevator was not in use, the antique metal doors were already open. He closed the doors and pressed the button. The old, heavy machinery whirred noisily into use. His erection throbbed. The image of Ulena riding him, astride him, taking him up to the hilt, her beautiful head thrown back in ecstasy, her crimson mouth contorted in orgasmic bliss, flew into his mind; unsuccessfully, he tried to banish the thought. He limped along the corridor to the bathroom, his erection was crippling him, bending him over, double. He prayed that the bathroom would be unoccupied.


It was.


Urinal or cubical? The urinal was closer. He unzipped his pants and groaned with relief as he released his cock. Joseph was justifiably proud of his cock. It was long and thick. A good ten inches. His cock jerked as he ran his thumb over the fat helmet. He wrapped his fingers lovingly around its girth and started to pump.



Just minutes ago, if he had just touched his cock, it would have exploded. He pumped fast, moaning, sensing the orgasm was imminent. But it was elusive and faded. He pumped harder, grunting; it built, then receded again. What was wrong with him? He’d never felt such urgency in his life before. And still he couldn’t come.



The door opened behind him. He frantically tried to hide his erection. His cock, however, was determined to be displayed; it bounced and slapped happily against his belly.



She stood close to him. Close enough that he could smell her perfume. Chanel Number 5.

He turned, to look at her. Her eyes were half closed. “Continue,” she ordered.



“But … but, you’re not supposed to be in here…this is the men’s…”



“I said, continue. Do not question me.”



Her voice was controlled; exotic. Joseph started to pump his cock again. She watched him in the long mirror. He pumped quickly and then slowly. He still didn’t come. The orgasm was just a breath away. She circled him. Her black, killer heel shoes, clicking on the tiled floor.



“Poor little slut,” she murmured, consolingly. “It will happen when I permit it.”

“Please…touch me,” he gasped.

“I think not,” she said with a curl of her lip.

The tension was unbearable. Joseph started to cry. Tears coursed down his cheeks.

“Please,” he groaned. “Have some pity. Is this what you get off on? Turning guys on and leaving them hanging.”

“I don’t see anything hanging,” she said. “I see things standing to attention. Besides…I don’t recall doing anything.”


Joseph panted and pumped.

Ulena took a breath. She leaned in, close to his ear. He could feel her hot breath on his neck. “Come,” she whispered.


Joseph exploded. The release was almost painful. But the relief was incredible. Spunk splattered in gallons; thick, white, stringy globules. Into the urinal, over the mirror, onto the floor. Over Ulena’s shoes. He sank to his knees, his pants tangled in a messy knot around his ankles. He wrapped his arms around Ulena’s legs. He was weeping in earnest.


“Thank you, oh thank you,” he blubbered.


She stepped away from his embrace. She pointed to the mess on the floor. On her highly polished shoes.


“Clean that up,” she ordered.
He looked around for some cleaning implements.


“With your tongue, slave,” she said. “Lick it up,”


Joseph lowered his head and started to lick his mistresses’ feet. He’d never tasted spunk before; but now he did. The flavour was intoxicating. A cocktail of spunk, mixed with the turpentine flavour of shoe polish. And the leathery texture of her shoes. He lapped noisily; slurping and gulping at the sticky strands. Gracefully, she lifted her foot to permit him to fellate the pointed toe of her shoe. He crawled around her slender legs and took her spiky heel into his mouth.



Ulena kicked him roughly away. He gave a wail of protest and she kicked him again, a swift kick to his head, lacerating his ear with her sharp, metal tipped heel. Blood trickled down his cheek and into the corner of his mouth. It tasted bitter; metallic.

“Meet me tonight at Mezzo’s,” she commanded. Nine o’clock. Don’t be late.


Joseph didn’t answer; he was licking the bathroom floor.