On the first day of smutmas, my true love gave me screams that filled my soul with pleasure. His hand caressed my cheek before he thrust fingers down my throat, choking me with his demands. He ravaged my throat with the tips of his fingers. The tears rolled down my cheeks in a stream of torment. He whispered in my ear that his Kitten needed to learn that holidays were for his pleasure, not hers. A gift was coming, but not by the Jolly fat man. Not even Santa could touch his property.
A.J. Luna
