Star of Christmas

by Jayne Rylon

  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 arms then behind the surface supporting me. The process is repeated on my other side. Soon, the tinsel forms an X before me, locking my upper body to the form.

  When the soft, shiny rope runs out, I strain, testing my limits. I start with subtle wiggles that escalate to full-out yanks when I confirm I’m well and truly held. Whispers race through the shadowy seats when a moment of fear widens my eyes.

  Rick is there in an instant. “Shush, Star. Let me give you what you need.”

  There’s no hesitation in his baritone. Only sweet comfort and steely reassurance.

  “Yes,” I moan.

  He grins, feral and full of anticipation as he retrieves the strand of lights. Soon my ankles and legs receive the same treatment as my arms and torso. Bound, captured, trussed in a flash of silver and white. The lingering heat from the extinguished bulbs singes my flesh. The bite fades before I can complain.

  I whimper.

  “You like that, don’t you? A little sting.” Rick strokes his fingers from my ankles to my waist as he verifies my bindings are comfortable yet inescapable. Exactly what I’ve requested.

  A surge of moisture floods my pussy, dampening the aching center of my body.

  “You need more?”

  He knows that I do. Still, his hands hover a hairsbreadth from my chest until I tender my admission. “Yes please. Something stronger.”

  “Like this?” He stands to the side so our witnesses don’t miss a single detail when he teases my breasts with gentle pinches, firm slaps and finally the nip of his teeth.

  “Yes!” Heat races through me, centered around the contact of his consuming lips.

  “Mmm.” He steps back to admire his handiwork with a critical eye. “You do look lovely. I think it’s time to illuminate you for our guests.”

  He monitors my reaction carefully. His gaze flicks to the pulse hammering along the side of my neck and the juice spreading onto the tops of my thighs from my saturated pussy.

  When I don’t object, he crosses with two strides to the pedestal nearby. He bunches the cheery red-and-gold tablecloth covering it in his fist then whips it to the side, revealing the digital power box beneath.

  I shiver as the crowd surrenders a collective gasp.

  The industrial unit looks far more powerful and imposing than the moderate Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulator I’ve employed for some of my specialty customers. The TENS works wonders by supplying a variety of sensations from a mild oscillation to a substantial muscle spasm used in BDSM edge play.

  Grown men have fallen apart, begging me for more at the first pulse of its power. They keep groveling when I extend their orgasms, tumbling and crashing them through wave after wave of contractions in the grip of nature’s greatest force.

  This equipment can take things to a whole new level. I’ve heard of the programs available to modulate the current, mutating common electricity into an invisible hand that strokes muscles and nerves beneath the skin. Almost like an internal vibrator.

  Each person reacts differently to the stimulus. How will it feel on me?

  Rick senses my trepidation. It underlies the arousal causing my thighs to quiver. He selects two pad electrodes, the most basic and gentle, then stretches the leads toward me. “We’ll start from the bottom and work our way up. I’ll light up the Star only when you’re ready.”

  Plus, we both know current above the waist requires advanced skill and a degree of risk unmitigated by any amount of training. Passing current through the chest cavity can turn deadly—quick. E-stimming above the shoulders is strictly forbidden. I don’t think for one second he would put me in danger. I trust they’ve arranged some alternate method of sustaining the illusion.

  To be frank, I don’t give a damn. All I care about is Rick, our pleasure and indulging in sinful delights. I’m willing to share that with the hoard of customers who are not fortunate enough to be me—the object of Rick’s desire.

  As though he can read my mind, he smiles before kneeling at my feet. He kisses each of my ankles with brushes of his full lips. I squirm in the efficient restraints he improvised. From his pocket, he removes a tube of electoconductive gel and slathers it on the rubber housing of the electrodes.

  He adheres one to the skin on the inside of each of my ankles. A new trick to me. I can’t imagine they’d do a lot of good in this position. Refusing to question, I relax, allowing myself to float in the wake of his superior control. He’ll take me where he wants me to go.

  With him, I know I’ll enjoy following.

  Rick stands from his crouch, adjusting the lay of his cramped hard-on.

  “May I see you?” I whisper as he passes in front of me to take his place at the controls.

  “Not yet, Star. You’re too much temptation.”

  “Fuck her!” A man hollers from the audience, reminding me of their presence.

  “In due time.” Rick’s sensual promise reverberates in the wide-open space.

  “I need you.” My plea triggers several moans yet meets with firm denial from the only man who matters.

  “My way. Let me give you this.” He stands strong, not afflicted by my sudden weakness. I would argue more. He terminates my ability by flipping the switch on the power box. All thoughts flee my mind.

  A pleasant tingling begins in my toes, curling and uncurling them involuntarily. I can’t say I feel the effects directly in my pussy, but all my internal muscles clench at the idea of what’s to come. Rick returns to me, kissing, licking and stroking my breasts as I acclimate to the subtle vibrations awakening my nerves.

  “These are monopolar pads.” He informs me along with the spectators between slurps on my distended nipples. “Electricity is arcing through your body, the current whisking from one diode to the other. Up your legs. Straight through your pussy.”

  “I don’t feel anything there.” At least I don’t think I do. The clenching of my empty channel has everything to do with impatience.

  “Then why are your hips twitching in time to the pulse I’ve selected?”

  I focus on the motion, awed to see it matches the flashing red light on the power box. E-stim taps into the most fundamental systems of my body, making me feel as if everything I experience is caused by subconscious, internal stimuli. The result is natural. Awesome.

  “For that matter…” He spreads the soaked lips of my pussy. “Look at how you clasp and throb to the rhythm. Your clit is swollen. Beautiful.”

  Grunts and soft curses drift from the artificial dusk beyond the stage as my center is exposed for the customers’ approval.

  Rick beams at me then pets my flank. “You’re doing great. I can show you more. Take you farther.”

  I nod. “Just get there quick.”

  He laughs. “Bad girls find coal in their stockings, not endless orgasms. My way, Star.”

  “Bastard.” I groan when he flicks a setting on the generator. The subtle buzz turns into a flutter, making my pussy dance to the rhythm of his will.

  He leaves me suspended for several minutes as he permits the crowd to admire his handiwork and the devastating effect it has on me. When he returns, more diodes overflow his large palm.

  “I’m going to fill you with this, Star.” He holds up a long silver dildo for my inspection. “There are copper wires embedded on both sides. The bipolar insert will blow your mind. On a separate channel from the pads at your ankles, I can direct the current independently. It can instigate some exceptionally unique and satisfying reflexive muscle contractions. Or so I’m told…”

  Liar! The truth is plain in his eyes. He took it up the ass this afternoon. Knowing he allowed J
eremy to insert the unit and rule his pleasure poises me on the brink of orgasm.

  Rick shuts off the current from the power box for both our safety. It’d be easy to create an unintentional circuit if he handled the diodes live. He plugs the latest addition into the generator then slides the blunt tip between my legs. He feeds it to me an inch at a time until the entire length of the smooth device is buried in my pussy.

  I hug the invader with well-developed muscles. Mmm. It’s so nice to be full.

  Two wires, one black and one red, protrude from the base of the diode. A spreader bar at the top holds the lips of my pussy open and a final diode—this one a tiny cup—settles over my clit like a thimble. A set of clips on the bar allow Rick to pin the folds of my pussy open for an ideal view that won’t vanish when I begin to writhe.

  Two ribbons are tied to grommets on either side of the base. He uses them to fasten the device around my waist, locking it in place. The cool material on my swollen genitals incites waves of anticipation.

  It takes a few minutes for the passion clouding my vision to clear. When it does, I realize Rick has unleashed his cock and stands—stroking himself—as he observes his creation.

  “There you go, Star.” He encourages me to meet his gaze. His dilated pupils turn his eyes stormy with longing. “Tell me you need it.”

  “I do.” I yell as I thrash in my bonds, eager to experience energy bringing me to life for him—for all the men observing him mold me into his plaything.

  He flips the switch with a flick of his wrist. I’m thankful for the restraints keeping me from dislodging the probes. They impart sumptuous floods of stimulation to all the important pathways of my pleasure system. Networks of nerves light up like a switchboard. Every cell in my body strains for the release promised by the pulsating waves arcing through my pussy.

  Another button pressed engages the shield over my clit. I can see my thighs tensing and relaxing in response to the digital commands Rick issues. Whether he intended it or not, it’s impossible to endure more than a few seconds of this bliss without flying apart.

  “Rick.” I gasp as my orgasm cartwheels through my pussy, radiating outward to every part of my body. Even my fingertips clench and release in time to the signal. He directs my pleasure, adding a short fizzle that maintains my climax. He laughs out loud as he oscillates the current, building my rapture then expanding it until I crash through pinnacle after pinnacle.

  He allows me to rest a minute before triggering another round of ecstasy. I’ve never imagined anything so sweet. He makes me orgasm at will. Repeatedly.

  “I could watch you come all night long, Star.” Rick groans as another series of spasms rack my body. He licks a silver ring then holds it in front of my slitted eyes. “One last offering, love. Will you accept it?”

  A bipolar diode, intended for my right breast to avoid completing a pathway across my chest cavity, too near my heart. Still a risk. A calculated one. I’ve come this far, I must live the full experience.

  “Yes!” Another cycle of the everlasting orgasm batters my senses but I’m clear on the choice I’ve made. Only now do I realize the board I’m strapped to is lighting up. Hidden LEDs—unrelated to the real circuitry pumping amperage into my willing form—dazzle the crowd. The glow expands past my ankles, past my waist, to my chest.

  Rick times his actions to the sparkling glow. When it reaches the same level as my breasts, he affixes the nipple diode and activates the proper channel.

  I’m lost.

  My entire body twitches in compulsory seizures focused to deliver unparalleled ecstasy—a whole body orgasm. If not for the restraints he provided, I’d flop around the floor like a fish out of water.

  The crowd goes wild, moaning, cheering and shouting.

  At the same time, the hot splash of Rick’s come paints me with proof of his appreciation for my total supplication.

  We’re linked in a cycle of pleasure.

  Me.

  Rick.

  Our audience.

  As shouts join ours from all across the room, the balcony and even the stage behind us, the star on top of the tree-shaped backing board I’m strapped to glows bright.

  Lights blossom into rainbows through the prisms of my tears. I close my eyes, one betraying droplet escaping from beneath my lids, as I wish it were real. Why can’t this be Rick’s living room? Why can’t we share something genuine and exciting on the eve of a new era?

  This experience could fundamentally alter who we are and the path we’ll walk together from here forward with the elemental power of our passion.

  We exchange a present beyond value.

  The gift of a lifetime.

  As suddenly as it began, the arc of electricity abandons me, ending my continuous climax. I hang limp and exhausted in my bonds.

  “Thank you,” Rick whispers an instant before the stillness explodes into applause and an impossible chant.

  Encore. Encore. Encore.

  We have nothing left to share. We’ve left it all onstage beneath the harsh beams and the scrutiny of a few hundred of Tommy’s new best friends.

  Stagehands rescue me, freeing me from electrodes, wires and restraints I would have worn forever if offered a choice. They sweep us to the dressing room as two of the club’s regulars appear for one last quickie to appease any stranglers or those who were inspired to a second or third round of arousal by our offering.

  Encore

  I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t resist.

  When Rick offered to share his home with me, to spend the rest of the night by my side, I caved to his earnest invitation. We tumbled into his bed and slept the night away, locked in each other’s arms. Now, in the harsh light of midmorning, I try not to count the cost.

  The price will be steep because resting here, in his sanctuary, in his arms, guarantees I’ll miss him when I return to reality.

  We’re only delaying the inevitable.

  “Star.”

  “Yes?” I whisper, afraid to shatter the perfect peace surrounding us.

  “Remember yesterday, when you joked about Christmas dinner?”

  “Uh-huh.” I sigh. He pets my hair.

  “I have to leave soon. Why can’t you come with me?” He tucks his chin to study my reaction as I burrow deeper against his chest. “My family is open-minded. Like me. I’d like to believe they’d welcome whomever I choose to spend my time with. Share my life with.”

  “It’s too much, Rick. You can’t spring it on them like that. No warning, no notice.” I shake my head. For him, I have to choose the right thing despite my selfish craving to indulge. Like an addict, it’d be too easy to treat myself to a little more then a little more until things spiraled out of control. “It’s not right. I won’t ruin your holiday. Or your relationship with your family. It’s too precious…”

  I cut off before he can ask questions I don’t feel like thinking about, never mind answering.

  “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”

  “No. I’m so sorry.”

  “Then I’d like to give you your present now.” He slips his finger beneath my chin and lifts my mouth to his for a lingering kiss. I so rarely indulge in this intimacy. It steals my breath. Though I suspect the glide of his tongue would have more impact than all the rest of the kisses in the world. His lips brush across mine, affectionate and gentle enough to bring tears to my eyes.

  The soft exchange of affection is a worthy offering. I’m surprised when he rolls me to my back and nibbles a trail along my torso.

  “Rick?”

  “I want to pleasure you for once.” He pauses to draw on my breasts with tender sips then meanders below the covers. “Relax, Star. I’ll do the work. Let me take care of you.”

  He takes ages exploring every facet of my pussy with his fingers, lips and tongue. He ingests the arousal he draws from my body, a testament to his skill and the emotion ricocheting between us. After the monumental release I experienced last night, this should be impossible.


  It seems so odd to lie still and allow him to work on me for a change. Yet, I relish every second. He laves the flesh between my thighs, soothing and enflaming all at once. When I whimper, he presses a single digit into my aching channel, giving me something to hold on to.

  I bury my fingers in his hair, keeping him pressed close to me.

  Rick swirls his tongue over my clit then encloses the swollen bundle of nerves with his lips. He caresses it with tiny sucks intermixed with the brush of his tongue until a gentle wave of relief washes over me.

  He cleans the juice pouring from me with tiny laps that soothe my tired, replete pussy then rubs my belly, my thighs and my ass until I drift off into a satisfied daze, halfway to slumber.

  I indulge in ten or fifteen minutes of snuggling, a glorious treat, before he climbs from the bed, heading toward the shower with a reluctant sigh. I’m a coward. I keep my eyes closed, my breathing shallow until the door shuts and the splash of water ensures his preoccupation.

  If I don’t escape now I won’t have the strength to do what I know is necessary. I dress as quickly as my slack muscles can manage then draw a scrap paper from my purse. A flier for the Kinkmas pageant. Fitting.

  I scribble my note inside then fold it in half, taking time to write his name as elegantly as possible on the outside of the red, tented paper. At the last second, impulse spurs me to enfold the cursive in a bold heart, as though I were still in junior high school.

  I drop my pen into my bag not a moment too soon. The water shuts off. I slip on my heels, fluff my hair then withdraw from his house.

  When I cross the sidewalk in front of his living room, I can’t prevent myself from pausing to admire the lit tree in the window. Rick appears beside it, a towel slung low on his hips, my note in his hand. The disappointment etched between his drawn brows eases as he glances at the single line I jotted for him. The best present I could think of.

  His sad smile expands when he raises his gaze to mine.

  “Merry Christmas, Sarah.” Rick mouths then blows me a kiss.