Merry Christmas

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Story summary: “Merry Christmas”

‘Twas the night before Christmas,
and throughout the dorm,
not a kid in her dorm room,
’cause they all had gone home.

Except me, and my Christmas present to me, all tied up in a little, tiny red bow: Bella Swan.


“Bella,” I called liltingly.

“Mmmf! Mmmf!” Bella cried out helplessly.

I just so love it when Bella cries out for help. Like it ever does anything for her.

But I particularly like her terrified mewings, because it’s the prelude, the appetizer, to just so much more to come!

I stood in our teeny, tiny dorm room, towering over Bella, who was all strapped down to one of our stupid, standard issue double beds. The depths we sink to when we go to college. God! I missed home. Our home.

Ever since Bella’s mom moved out to Milwaukee or wherever with that up-and-comer baseball player, Phil, and I had to convince them, by force majeur, that Bella couldn’t be moving almost at the end of her senior year, and, well, wouldn’t you know, our house had a spare bed room, or three, that I’d be more than happy to set Bella up in …

That is to say: ever since Bella moved in, its not just my home anymore (well, technically my parent’s home, but who stands on minor details like that?), it’s our home.

And not with these tiny fucking double sized beds, for God sake! I mean, how can you properly lounge and loll about in bed in any bed smaller than a King? or Queen, as the case may be.

(The case being my room for the king, or Bella’s room for the queen, whenever I decided to pounce on her.)

(And yeah, we did more than lie or loll about on the beds, when we wanted to … play.)

But Dartmouth had fucking double sized beds, and, well, you worked with what you had given to you, right?

I stood over Bella.

I had bought cat suits. Not the full-body kind, no, I mean: why cover all that skin in leather? No, I got the bikini kind, just a little bra support (leaving the nipples exposed, of course), just a little thong (need I say ‘crotchless’?), just a mask that covered the eyes (completely, in Bella’s case), and a set of cute little cat’s ears.

And a tail. We mustn’t forget the tail.

My cat suit was red, being all in the mood for the holiday season.

But Bella’s was black, all black, for the bad little black kitty my Bella was.

And she was such a bad, bad kitty.

And bad kitties needed to be punished. That’s why I had strapped on Mr. Barney, because she was going to get punished, long, hard, and often. And Barney was big, long and purple enough to punish her but good.

Oh, yeah.

“Bella,” I sang, and Bella visibly shuddered at the sound of my voice.

The ball gag was really doing it’s job, and as much as she struggled the only thing she could get past it was (not much) sound, but (plenty of) drool.

I’ve told her before about the drool, but she just wouldn’t listen, would she?

God, was she gonna get what was coming to her!

“Nobody’s here to help you, Bella,” I cooed. “You can cry and scream and struggle all you like, but this whole wing of the dorm is empty, Bella. ‘M.T.’-empty. It’s just you, and me, just you, trussed up like the sweet little Christmas present that you are, and me, who’s so gonna unwrap you, and, Bella…”

I paused, savoring the moment.

“When I unwrap my Christmas present? And open your sweet little box? I’m so gonna … ooh!”

I was actually at a loss for words, but the images I saw dancing in my head?

They do say that a picture is worth a thousand words, don’t they?

Bella squirmed in her bonds.

I love tying Bella up. Not because she’s a sweet little subby that so wants to be taken. She is … or, she may be. But the reason I love tying Bella up is that beneath her submissive exterior is a very strong-willed girl who never gave up the fight, and eventually, even after she had lost all hope, that was all she had left, and that’s all she knew to do: fight.

And then she met me, and asked me for a ride. And, boy, did I ride her.

But she never … that is, she always fights everything, even the good things coming her way, and it was so hard to break through her hardened shell so that I could actually start giving her things she deserved all her life.

Things like food. And heat in the house.

And then there were things like love and affection.

Things she had fought all her life, and would’ve fought me, giving them to her.

And so, the bonds. I was going to be giving, and she just simply had to take.

But the other thing I loved about tying my Bella up, is after she realized she couldn’t fight this, she couldn’t fight me.

Then the real fun began, because then she so wanted to accept it, she so wanted to participate, and hold me as I took her.

And her, not being able to hold me, not being able to turn me over and fuck me back, not being able to kiss me unless I wanted her to?

It drove her absolutely Escort Bayan Antep bat-shit crazy.

And a bat-shit crazy Bella on the bed?

Powder kegs and firecrackers were nothing to my little fireball as I fucked her brains out, her screaming out orgasm after orgasm.

I loved me some bound Bella-on-fire as I fucked her. Did I happen to mention that at all? I’m not sure if I did.

But how did I work her up to bat-shit craziness?

It was all in the warm-up, wasn’t it? But to warm up a feisty little bitch like my Bella, you had to have infinite patience and a will of irony.

So, she could count herself lucky she asked for a ride from the one girl who had both qualities in spades, couldn’t she?

Of course, the minor fact that I told the cheerleading squad to tell everybody else in school with a car that if they gave Bella Swan a ride any more, they would be dealing with one very pissed off Rosalie Hale may or may not have helped guide her to come ask for a ride from me when everybody else said that they couldn’t any more, but …

But that’s the way some balls bounce, you know? After all, what’s the point of popularity and power if you don’t use it for something, and the something I wanted to use my power and popularity for was to get me my own little slave girl, Bella Swan.

And get her I did. She fell right into my web, and I fucking spun her up and drank her like …

Ugh, … the spider analogy isn’t working anymore. Oh, well, you get my point.

Bella Swan is mine, little tiny boney Bella Swan, down on her luck, but full of fight, was my little bitch now, and I made sure she knew it.

But college is all about … finding yourself, discovering yourself. Not for me. Fuck that. I already know who I am, and I don’t need a bong or a guy’s dick to tell me what my self-worth isn’t. And I don’t need to read Sylvia Plath to discover my womanhood. I’m just fine who I am, and I don’t need a fucked-up English Lit college professor to mold me into the woman I’m supposed to be.

But for Bella …

The first semester was … hard on us. I mean, really fucking hard, because Bella is one suggestible little bitch, and you tell her she’s scum, and she goes right there, but you try to praise her or her writing and she gets all ashamed and embarrassed.

So she felt she had to express herself, and strike out on her own, and make her own decisions … that is, decisions that other people told her she should be making, not decisions that were for her good or our good.

And … that was hard, seeing her drifting away, because you know the reason she was doing all this?

She wanted to show me she was good enough for me.

She started doing things on her own and becoming distant because she wanted me to be proud of her.

And … we fought. We …

Okay, I’m not the most reasonable person in the world, I don’t know if you know this, so when she came back to the dorm one day and had had her hair trimmed to, modestly, shoulder length, just to see what my reaction would be …

She saw my reaction.

We were done. We were through. I went to the off-campus pizza place, and I got smashed.

I don’t drink, by the way. Not since my eighteenth birthday, when my dad didn’t show up, because screwing an intern in Washington D.C. was more important than showing up at his daughter’s eighteenth birthday party. We weren’t close, anymore, since he’d been elected Senator, but couldn’t he just make a little bit of time to come to my eighteenth birthday party like he promised he would?

That was my worse birthday ever, and the only thing that pulled me through was Bella.

There was also that other time I got drunk when I was thirteen and then was raped by five football players who kept giving me drinks, knowing full well what it would do to me, and then took turns on me when all I could do was cry and beg ‘no’ to deaf ears, but …

But why dwell on the past?

The past taught me that when I get drunk, I lose control, and I’m the kind of person who needs to be in control, all the time.

It’s best for everybody when it’s that way, so when Bella started making decisions on her own, it was me who went right to that place. The place that said she didn’t need me any more, the place that said there other people much better for her, people who could give her the happily ever after with the picket fence and two kids.

Other people not like me. Other people, … like guys.

And so I slunk away from her, sulking, and slunk right to the campus pizza place and slunk right into a beer pitcher.

Beer. Ugh. But it did the job. I was hitting on any guy who looked my way.

If Bella were going to be carried off my Mr. Right, I may as well start looking now, too.

At the campus bar? Why not?

Luckily, Bella found me there and brought me back to the dorm before real damage was done … done to our relationship, that is, the damage was done to me already, and it went deep, so that took a while to heal, and it would occasionally rear its ugly head at the slightest provocation.

And all over a stupid haircut.

That Bella got, not with my permission, but with her own initiative.

Because she wanted to impress me and make me happy that she could do things on her own, and look pretty for me.

Do you see what a fucked up girlfriend Bella has?

And she claims she’s the lucky one to have me.

I can’t say she’s the best judge of character, but why complain about something that has worked so well for me and for so long now, almost three-quarters of a year Bella and I have been together. Almost three-quarters of a year my life has had something real in it, some meaning other than money and grades and fair-weather friends.

Almost three-quarters of a year I’ve had something in my life that I didn’t know that existed. Not really.


Bella Swan has loved me through thick and thin, and I’ve found, to my shock, that I loved her back.

Stupid shit made me fall in love with her, that little bitch, so …

Actually, that really pisses me off sometimes, and so I really lay into the punishment when I get on my high horse, and, because she made me love her? She deserves every last lash I give her when I get going, and then some.

And boy, does she ever get it. And then some. Because I’m Rosalie Hale, and when there’s a punishment to mete, I do not hold back.

Holding back is for sissies and half-assed cunts. I am neither.

Bella could sense my growing fervor and excitement, and she shivered in fear.

We hadn’t done a scene in a long time. In college, at the dorm, you can’t really … do that kind of thing. You had to pretend to be like everybody else. You had to study and let others study. You had to let them fuck their boys, but you couldn’t reduce Bella to a screaming, sniveling mess, because that might disturb other people studying and actually call down the campus security over concerns of sexual assault or abuse.

So Bella and I had to play it cool. Or I did, anyway, and people around here didn’t even know we were in a relationship. They just thought we were roommates.

But now that everybody’s gone home for the holidays …

My Bella.

I looked down at her, savoring the moment, her quivering, struggling against the unyielding straps, trying to get free, when that was the last thing on my agenda right now.

Okay, enough admiration.

I strode up to her and knelt down between her spread legs, admiring the little red ribbon, tied in a bow: the only thing hiding her modesty, the only thing between me and what I wanted.

“Ooh, Bella!” I cooed. “You got me a Christmas present?”

“Nnnn!” Bella whimpered, and tried to press herself more into the bed.

Fat lot of good that did her.

I brought my gloved hands to the ends of the bow, very, very lightly brushing her inner thighs.

Bella jerked like she had been electrocuted.

What? I didn’t have the prod with me! … this time.

“What could it be?” I asked. I couldn’t hide my smile, even though Bella’s eyes were masked, and my cheeks hurt now, because I’ve been smiling, hard, pretty much from the moment I got her into the cat suit and strapped her sweet little ass down onto the bed.

“Is it cookies, Bella?” I demanded, and brought my nose up to her cunt and started sniffing.

“Ooommmm!” she whimpered, and her hips tried to close away from my probing nose.

I smiled. “It doesn’t smell like cookies,” I said. “Oh, what could it be?” I demanded impatiently.

Then I pulled the ribbon apart…

… And looked upon the cutest little cunt on the whole damn planet.

“Oh, Bella!” I sighed happily. “Baby cunt! It’s what I’ve always wanted! How did you know?”

Bella struggled more, her hips bucking, trying to get away from my inquisitive nose.

“Bella,” I commanded. “Be still.”

“Nnnn!” she cried and struggled more.

“Bella,” I said coolly, “you don’t want me to get out the hot sauce, do you?”

Bella stilled and then shuddered hard.

Then she whined a long, pitiful whine.

She could struggle all she wanted, but she knew what hot sauce on her clit felt like, and she could really scream, even through the ball gag when I started rubbing it over her lips and then finger fucked her with the hot sauce.

Several ways to get Bella to pee. No problems. I could spoon my Bella into me, open up her lips and massage her urethra now and she would pee just like that, any time, anywhere, because I’ve done this to her so many times, she’s trained like a good little pee slave.

When I want my Bella to pee, she pees.

Of course, that’s just one of the ways to make her pee, and to put her into place. The least painful way. I have other methods and techniques. Some take a warm up period.

And I do warm her up. Period.

Getting her to poop is another story, but if I told you that I could beat the shit out of my little Bella … you know: me, her, a paddle and a long, long, hard time, I think you’d get the picture.

But to get her to pee and poop and cum all at the same time?

Hot sauce on the dildo. It’s a miracle worker in how consistently effective it is.

If Bella felt like she needed to assert her independence with me, giving me backtalk or not acing her homework, tests, and not doing her chores …

And not kissing my feet when I want her to …

Well, then we’d have a little screaming session: her screaming, and me liking it.

Until she relearned her place.

It got to the point that all I had to do was lube up the dildo with hot sauce, and she’d just pee, right there, wherever she was, and bend over backwards and make all kinds of promises so as to avoid the session. And I’d hold her to her promises, too.

And give her the hot and spicy dildo. Over and over and over again, until she was all cummed and peed and pooped out. We can’t disappoint her expectations, now, can we?

Oh, and if you ever want to see Bella cum like a fountain?

Ram the dildo up her ass while she’s cumming.

A hot sauce dildo up the ass while you’re already cumming?

Several times she’s cum so hard she’s actually fainted.

I like those times. I like them a lot.

The beauty of these discipline sessions is that they actually work. Bella is never so docile and obedient and attentive as after a little training session I have with her. When she gets out of hand, we have some special time together and she gets right back in hand, and she stays in hand for hours! … well, sometimes days, even.

One time she even lasted a week between discipline sessions, but then we were both really pushing it. She was positively wild by the end of the week, and the session to correct her errant behavior was rather … intense.

My Bella is a feisty little bitch, and is always in need of a firm hand to correct her rebellious and impetuous ways.

With the way she disobeys me so often, knowing my unyielding nature and inevitable consequences, you might even think she brings these punishments on herself because she likes it. But that would be wrong, wouldn’t it? Why would Bella want my spankies, and hard fuckings that leave her a pile of loved-up mush for me to cuddle and bathe back to recovery?

Who would want that?

Then, of course, afterwards we would sleep, and I would carry my baby to the bed, and then spoon into her, pulling her body tightly into mine, and … well, I had met all her needs, and so … well …

Well, sometimes, I had needs to be met, too. And I would hump her sweet ass, fucking it, until I came all over her sweet little butt, just cumming and cumming as I pinched her nipples and rubbed her little clitty, and sometimes she would moan out another orgasm as I fucked her, if she had anything left in her, which was just fine by me, or sometimes I would just fuck my brains out on her and fall asleep, her in my arms, and my cunt plastered against her o-so-fuckable (and fucked) ass, and she would sleep that way, too, warm and protected in my arms.

Really, I’m surprised nobody on campus suspected we were a couple, but then, nobody usually snuck into our dorm room after midnight to find us glued together on her bed or mine, so I suppose I could understand why nobody else on campus had a clue about us.

But now she was still, even if a shudder passed through her, her body shaking in terror even as she tried to obey me.

She was always ‘trying’ to obey me, and always failing. But I loved that about her, that she always tried, so hard, for me.

I bent over and breathed in the scent of her delicious cunt.

“Have we been a good, little kitty this year, Bella?” I asked, “or have we been a very bad, naughty, nasty kitty, huh, Bella?”

Bella shuddered.

“No answer?” I asked. “Well, let me check.”

I brought my cheek up to her spread-apart inner thighs, and very gently pushed between her legs until my cheek was resting against her pussy.

“Mmm! So soft!” I sighed. “So warm!”

I rubbed my cheek against her cunt.

“Oh, so smooth, Bella!” I hummed.

Bella moaned. I love how she keeps her pussy bald at all times for me, perfectly so, with no irritating stubble.

She knows how much I don’t like to be irritated. She knows it well.

“But,” I stopped in surprise. “Bella!” I scolded, “what’s this?”

Bella held her breath.

I stuck out my tongue and gave a light, tracing lick up her slit.

“Ahhhhnnnnmm!” Bella sighed.

“Bella,” I said. “You naughty, nasty girl!”

I slid up her body until I was face-to-face with her, resting on her spread-eagle form.

“Bella, you’re positively dripping from your nasty little gash!” I exclaimed angrily. “You are a very, very, very bad kitty and need to be punished, don’t you!”

Bella tried to shake her head rapidly in denial.

She so likes to pretend she doesn’t like what she always has coming to her.

I put her face between my hands to still her.

“Bella.” I said gently.

She whimpered.

Then I pressed my hips between her thighs.

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