The Siren moved to the bed and started flicking the whip gently at the gnome’s still engorged member, glistening with her juices.
When Nate yelled in shock as much as pain, Dante took advantage and plunged back into the other being’s mouth.
“That’s much better, gentlemen,” said Ligia with a seductive smile and she continued her torture with the rod as the two creatures on the bed got faster and faster. Nate’s body jerked up every time Ligia hit him, meanwhile Dante gripped the gnome’s head with his claws trying to hold him still as he rammed into the smaller being’s mouth, until they both exploded simultaneously.
They weren’t the only ones to climax. Gren had also come, unlike Ligia. He glanced at her face as she turned away from the bed toward the camera. He could see the satisfaction in her face that she had made the other two come but he knew she would be ‘unsatisfied’.
The troll sighed and reached for a tablecloth to wipe himself, a box of tissues not being sufficient. He was sad for her but relieved he didn’t have any dead bodies of which to dispose.
CHAPTER THREE
An unearthly screaming awoke Gren. He winced as he moved in his chair. He was still sitting in the same spot after he’d fallen asleep earlier.
Recalling the noise that had awoken him, Gren glanced up at the screen and saw Ligia sitting cross-legged on the floor near the bed crying, her long blonde locks tangled.
Gren knew instantly what had happened. “Jeez, Ligia. Not again.” He sighed deeply and pushed himself out of his chair. Opening the door to the bar he was slightly taken aback to see there were still customers inside, including the sprite who was still at it with the Satyrs. He looked over at the clock. It might be midnight on Christmas Eve, but his bar had stayed open for all the paranormal creatures having a respite from the demands of humans. However, it was now time to close.
“Haven’t you rowdy lot got homes to go to? Santa Claus will be coming by soon. Even if you don’t want your presents, I do. That means you, too, Saffy,” he yelled good-naturedly at the sprite who sat up on the table and glared at him before being led away by her lovers.
He turned to Jared. “Thanks for sticking around. Have a good holiday.”
There was some rumbling as the final customers ambled out and Gren shut the heavy oak front door with a resounding clang. Leaning his head against the wood, he gathered his resources to deal with the one person he knew was left on the premises.
Ligia looked up as Gren entered the dungeon. Her expression was not one he had ever seen before — sorrow tinged with disappointment. The Siren shrugged. “Sorry. You know I have to sing when I climax.”
Like all Sirens, their song was beautiful but fatal to those who heard it. In stories, they were supposed to lull sailors with their song who would fall asleep and then they would be killed while unconscious. In reality, it was the song itself that was the deadly element, something in the sound ripped apart a man’s mind.
If they were lucky, the men would run out of the room before she got too far into the song, however, Ligia was particularly fond of a whip and loved to restrain her lovers who were then unable to flee. Somehow, Gren was never affected as he watched. He guessed it was because it was coming through electronic means.
Gren looked toward the bed. They had moved position since he’d last seen them. Whilst Nate lay on his front now, his body a sea of red welts, Dante was face up, handcuffed to the end of the bed. And he didn’t look happy. A demon was never attractive, full of malevolence, but this was one ex-demon who appeared to have been terrified when he died.
The troll crouched down by Ligia. “But did you have to scare them that much?” He nodded in the direction of the bed.
“They wanted it! In fact, they begged me to hit them harder.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t mean the BDSM. Maybe if you had cried out your orgasm quieter, I might come across less petrified corpses in my rooms.”
She gave him a teary smile. “Twit. You know it doesn’t work that way. You ever tried holding back your climax?”
“I see what you mean. But this doesn’t always happen when you are here.” Gren knew exactly how many times she had bedded men in his rooms and there were instances when they were still alive at the end.
The Siren sighed. “That’s because I fake it most of the time — partly because I know it would kill them if I climaxed but quite often, they just don’t arouse me.”
Gren digested this in surprise. He was aware that she’d not been with many beings lately. “I take it you’ve never fallen in love, either.” Or has she and they died? Is that why she can be so hard?
Ligia shook her head. “No, thankfully. It’s gut-wrenching for a Siren to fall in love, then end up killing that person. I try to have fun but keep my emotions at bay.”
That explained a lot to Gren but he felt their discussion was getting a bit too introspective. “Come on. I’ll dispose of the bodies later. Let’s have some supper or breakfast.”
The two wearily left the scene of the crime and entered the area where Gren lived.
Ligia glanced around in interest. “I’ve never been in your rooms before.”
“Uh-uh. No one has.”
She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. “You’re not telling me you are a virgin? For heaven’s sake, you are, what, five hundred years old?”
Gren huffed. “Not that old!” The cheek of the girl. He was only three hundred and four — the prime of his life. “Besides which, I’ve had lovers, but never in here.” He’d cared for none of them. In fact, there was only one person he had really been in love with. And she was standing next to him totally oblivious to this revelation. One he had no intention of telling her.
“So you put up all these Christmas decorations just for yourself?” The Siren waved a hand indicating the Christmas tree dripping with baubles, the tinsel looped around the walls, lights bedecking the fireplace, which had a log fire roaring on the hearth. It was Hallmark in real life.
Trolls couldn’t actually blush but Gren felt like he was. He shrugged. “So I like Christmas.”
Surprisingly she didn’t laugh. Just laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Didn’t you promise me Christmas dinner or breakfast or something? I’m ravishingly hungry. I haven’t eaten for hours.”
He stared intently at the Siren. She seemed to have forgotten the two creatures she had just killed.
Ligia gasped and dropped her hand. “That sounded callous, didn’t it?” She sighed. “I just wish I could have sex with someone I cared about and they live. But that won’t ever happen.”
The troll was torn. Does that mean she had been in love with Dante?
“No. I wasn’t,” Ligia replied.
Gren started, not realizing he’d spoken out loud.
But the Siren hadn’t finished. “Dante was an okay guy. They both were. Do you have a shirt or something I can borrow?”
He chuckled remembering Dante had torn off her dress. “Your wish is my command. Just ask it, don’t sing.”
Her giggle eased the tension and he found a discarded negligee which he tossed toward her before moving in the direction of the kitchen.
“How on earth did you come to have this?” she called after him.
“A pixie left it behind after we’d been in . . . one of the other rooms.” He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see how she took the news that he must have had a lover.
Ligia burst out laughing.
Gren frowned. “What?” Is it really that funny for me to have had a girlfriend?
She smiled. “That must have been quite a sight. Well, you’re so big and pixies are all so small!”
He huffed. “Well, yeah. We did have to be creative.”
They both laughed and soon he had cooked a mountain of bacon and eggs.
Just as they were finishing and Gren was struggling to know what to say to keep her there, the door opened.
“Yo-ho-ho.”
They turned as one and watched as Santa Claus entered.
> He saw them looking and raised his eyebrows. “Don’t think I’m coming down your chimney when it is blazing hot. People are supposed to have their fires banked and be in bed at this hour.”
Gren felt a little embarrassed. “Um. Sorry, Santa.”
“Hmm. Well, what do I have in here? As usual, I have lots of pressies from your folks back in the mountains, Gren.”
Jumping to his feet, the troll took charge of a huge number of presents which he immediately placed under his tree. He might choose not to live with his family but he kept in touch.
“Ahh. Ligia. I’m afraid you’ve been a naughty girl. I have no presents for you this year.”
“Well, what a surprise!” she retorted sarcastically.
As Santa left, Gren looked at Ligia and saw her face was tight. “You must have expected that. Exactly how many paranormals have you killed in the last twelve months?”
“None of them were intentional!” Her shoulders drooped.
“What about family? Haven’t you got anyone who sends you presents?”
Ligia shook her head, her hair falling over her face. “Nope. Just me. I was an only child.” She shrugged. “Mum killed Dad the night I was conceived. She found it very frustrating and joined a Siren nunnery soon after I left home. They cut themselves off from the world — they’re probably having a Siren lesbian binge-fest right now.”
Crouching down, Gren pushed aside her hair and took her face in his big hands. He smiled gently, his heart breaking for her sad life. “I have a present for you.”
The Siren tried pulling away, but he wouldn’t let her. “I don’t want one of your presents. Anyhow, I always break them.”
“That’s good because I’m not giving any of them away. Well, unless anyone has given me something I don’t want. There’s usually a ghastly fluorescent mobile phone case or similar from Great Auntie Doo. And then I regift them the next year.”
She chuckled weakly. “So I won’t be surprised then to find a plastic orange case when I open this pressie you’re going to give me.”
Gren grinned. “I only regift to people I don’t particularly like and this isn’t a regift.”
The Siren lifted an eyebrow. “I guess that means you like me.”
He hesitated. “Oh, yes. Lots.”
Ligia stared at him, her eyes seemed to peer straight into his soul. “So what’s my present, then?” Her voice was husky.
“Me.”
She was so stunned she didn’t speak for a few moments. “I beg your pardon.”
“I can go and put a ribbon around my neck if you like.”
Ligia looked dumbfounded. “I don’t understand.”
“You can have me for tonight. Whatever you want to do to me. I am strong enough to take whatever whipping you wish to dole out.”
She gave a bark of a laugh. “You!”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“But . . . I didn’t know you were into kinky stuff.”
Oh, I’m very much into kinky stuff. Only it was usually him giving it. But for Ligia, he was prepared to be the submissive.
“Try me.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Gren took her into his personal S&M playroom. He might not have invited any women back to his living area, but this room was an exception.
Ligia was astonished. “Holy Ghost, Gren. You’ve got more equipment in here than a medieval torturer’s chamber.” She turned to stare quizzically at him. “So, who do you usually play with?”
He shrugged, looking away from her. “Whoever I can get.”
She came over and stroked his chest with one long red lacquered nail and whispered, “No regular Dominatrix, then?”
“Nope,” he replied honestly — he’d never had a female Dom. Or male, come to that. It was usually him being Dominant but he wasn’t going to tell her that just yet. He wanted her to have some fun first. “Be my guest. Use whatever you like.”
“Hmm. What shall I do with my present?” With both hands, she reached up and tried to push his jacket off his shoulders, but Gren had to help.
She grunted. “You’re supposed to wait to be told to undress.”
He grinned. “Would you like me to remove any more, Mistress?”
The Siren raised an eyebrow at him. “No!” Taking hold of either side of his shirt, she tore it open herself, the buttons flying off, bouncing around the room. She looked at his naked chest approvingly, then raked her fingernails down his torso, and wasn’t gentle doing it, either.
Gren started to flinch as he watched mesmerized at the red droplets in the furrow she’d plowed. What amazed him more than the fact that she had drawn blood, was the realization that he enjoyed it.
Ligia became conscious of this, too, when she dropped a hand to his now bulging cock. “My, my. I was going to ask what elements of BDSM you enjoyed but clearly, pain is one of them.” She wrapped her hand around his enormous member. “Holy Ghost. I didn’t know trolls were this big. I’ve clearly been missing something all my life.”
Yes, you have — me!
Gren had to hold himself back from his initial instinct to grab hold of Ligia’s shoulders, press her against the wall, and rub his cock against her crotch.
Instead, she did the same to him. Or, at least, tried to. When she pushed at his body, he failed to shift an inch. Ligia had to resort to verbal commands. “Get back to the wall this instant you big, hunky lummox!”
He went willingly, groaning loudly when she rubbed herself against his burgeoning dick just as he had wanted, digging her nails into his butt.
“Don’t you dare come until I tell you,” she commanded.
Gren wasn’t sure he could hold out for more than a few seconds and gritted his teeth. He had dreamed of this moment for such a long time.
However, it was Ligia who stopped first and he moaned in agony as she left him unresolved when she suddenly moved away from him. “Hey, you’ve got a Saint Andrew’s Cross in here.”
He breathed a sigh of relief at the respite and glanced over at the diagonal cross. Gren rolled his eyes, knowing what was coming.
The Siren ineffectually tugged on his arm. “Get over there, Schwarzenegger, while I find something to bind you with . . . and get those trousers off.”
Bemused by Ligia’s almost child-like glee, Gren shucked his pants and what remained of his shirt, glad he wore no underwear. He watched with astonishment as she flung open chests and cupboards, gathering various lengths of rope which she threw to the floor at his feet as he stood by the wooden apparatus.
“Back up. That’s it. ‘Present’ yourself against the cross.” The Siren giggled. “Present . . . get it? Okay, my big, muscly present, I want your hands holding those rings.”
Gren stifled a grin at the excitement in her voice as he gripped the thick metal hoops attached to the top of each diagonal beam.
Bringing a chair over, Ligia then lithely skipped on to it and proceeded to tie his right hand to the ring with a long length of red rope, then dragged the chair to the other side and swiftly did the same with his left hand using a coil of green cord, dropping each end of the rope to the ground. With a triumphant light in her eyes, she slapped his thigh as she descended to the floor. “Legs apart. I am tying your ankles next.”
Deciding she’d had it her own way too long, he grinned. “Make me.”
She narrowed her eyes and leaned against his body, rubbing her breasts against his stomach. “If you want more, big boy, you’ll do as I say.”
He quickly complied, and with a giggle, the Siren took the end of the red rope wrapping it diagonally across his chest until she reached a thigh, twining it round and round until she got to his ankle which she then bound to the ring at the base of the beam. When she finished with the second cord wrapping it around his body in the opposite direction, Ligia took up the third length — some yellow rope — and tied that one around his waist, fixing him firmly to the beams as they crossed at his lower back and weaving it through the other diagonal binding already in place.
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Ligia paused to look at her handiwork.
She threw her head back and laughed. Gren wondered what had amused her so. “Well, you look like a Christmas tree.” Ligia explained further, “All the different colored ropes look like strands of tinsel. All I need is some baubles—”
Gren pulled against his restraints but she’d tied them too tightly. “Oh no, you don’t,” he protested.
The Siren giggled, ignoring his growl as she dashed to the cabinet holding some toys, rummaging in them like a dog digging up a bone, throwing out toys she didn’t want. The sight of her backside peeping out from under the negligee as she bent over the chest kept him from thinking about what she might do next.
She finally stood up holding a ball gag — a pink rubber ball for placing in a person’s mouth with scarlet ties to go around their head fixing it in place. “This will do for starters.”
He started struggling in earnest as she danced back to him.
“Come now. I thought you wanted to be my present and let me play with you.” Ligia pouted at him.
Gren groaned and subsided. “All right.”
“Open wide.”
The troll swallowed his dignity, very glad none of his brethren would see this, and opened his mouth letting her fix it in place.
Ligia hopped off the chair. “Now, what else can I find?” He sank against the cross, closing his eyes. What monster was he submitting to?
By the time she was finished, Gren had a plug up his butt — actually she’d used the end of a bullwhip as he had a large ass — a shiny metal cage over his penis (one made specifically for paranormal creatures) and some gold clamps on his nipples with a chain slung between them. He groaned as she completed her task. His dignity was in tatters. Only for her would he do this.
The Siren used one long fingernail to tinkle a bell hanging from one of the nipple clamps and beamed. “Excellent. A tree worthy of Saint Nicholas . . . even if the cross is the wrong saint!”
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