“Don’t you fucking dare.”

His vulgarity travels from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet.

“Someone might see us.”

He inhales her quiet protest.

“Then hurry and come.”

Emmett’s suggestion, laced with ascension, arouses Mila to the point of concern. Hand down the front of her snow-proof pants, she rises to orgasm as they stand in the snow, shrouded by a collection of green-needled trees. Her face in his coat. Emmett holds Mila as she falls prey to a crippling climax.

“You’re unbelievable.”

He grins. “Thank you.” 

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

Emmett laughs. “You’re adorable when you pretend you don’t enjoy it.”

“Enjoy what?”

“My spontaneity.”

Mila hopes her winter-bitten face hides the blush in her cheeks, shaking her head as she fastens her pants with thickly gloved fingers. When Emmett, with shameless eye contact, sucks Mila's tang from his wet finger, she flushes a color she can’t hide.

A year of Emmett, and Mila is still adjusting. Still as stunned by him as the day they met. His bluntness exists to surprise her, though only a few months ago did he confess his deepest interests, and that he wants to share them with her.

Emmett considers this as they hike back to the mountainside lightly littered with distant ski-goers. Mila's face the night he told her. He knew she was vanilla the moment he saw her. Ever a cunning wolf, his patience with her exposure has outlasted the need to dominate her.

A brilliant, beautiful, funny woman like Mila is someone you take your time with. Someone worth the wait. 

The cloudless sky gradually turns from blue to burnt pink, the effect on the snow something ethereal. This holiday weekend is calm, the resort mostly unoccupied. The log cabin waiting for them at the end of the day is a bastion of warmth that swallows them whole, stomping their boots and shuddering away the chill as they enter. The owner rented it out to them at a ridiculously generous price.

Without speaking, they agree a hot shower's in order.

The orgasm Emmett gives her under the steaming spray is far more private than earlier, her noises fuel to his pride. Mila returns the favor, all lips and tongue on his cock, his shoulder blades pressed to wet tile as he sighs approval, holding her head.

You'd think they were in love all their lives as they entwine on the sofa afterward, watching the sizzle of the mantel fire. The embers that pop remind Mila of the snow outside the bay window; sparkling in the full moon.

"What is it that scares you?" Emmett mumbles.

"I've already told you." 

"Yes. Your explanation was quite colorful." Mila can hear the smile in his voice, her back to his chest. She blushes, remembering the way he chuckled at her irrational worries of being left tied up in hilarious ways as he humiliated her.

"But you know I wouldn't do that. I'd never do anything you weren't okay with. The submissive holds the power, remember?" 

She sighs. "Yes…" 

"So you're worried about something else." He lets a full minute pass. "Tell me." 

"You'll laugh again." 

"Most likely." Emmett follows through when she elbows him. "I'm joking, babe. The last thing I want is to make you feel inadequate." Her next silence is loaded. "… Is that it? You're afraid you won't be enough?" Mila shrugs. Understanding dawns on him. "You're afraid you won't be good at it?" he can't help his slight shock. Her embarrassment is clear.

"I've never done that. You know this."

Emmett pulls her closer, mouth at her ear.

"You are perfect, Mila. You'll be perfect. I promise."

"How do you know?" Disappointing him in bed is something she'd never be able to live through. Though, she's certain his chosen apparatus wouldn't be a bed. 

"Because seeing you gagged and tied up and loving it would bring me to my knees." The husk of his confession is a bolt of lightning between her legs.

Emmett lets that idea marinate in her head, practically listening to the curiosity of her thoughts as she licks her lips and nuzzles into him. 

"You better get some sleep or Santa won't come," he says after a while. Mila smiles, eyes closed.

"I don't want this Christmas Eve to end."

"Maybe it won't," Emmett whispers, holding her tightly. 

They stay this way for a small eternity, content and together.

The hearth is glowing dimly when they hear it. Mila turns her head, listening harder. 

"Is that a bell?" Emmett says. 

"I don't know."

They rise from the sofa to search the source of the faint tinkling. In the hallway, they see a glow from under the cropped door beneath the stairs. Their brows share the same pinch of confusion as they exchange a glance.

Turning the handle, Emmett opens the door, the staircase within disappearing to blackness. They hear it again.

"Are you sure we should be in here?" Mila asks as she follows him down.

"The owner didn't say any part of the house was off-limits," Emmett justifies.

Their descendence is lengthy, and when they finally reach the bottom, it's no brighter than a moonless night, the ceiling so high it's invisible, mimicking the staircase in a disappearance of black.

"Is that snow?" Mila squints at the scattered piles of powder on the floor. The mysterious tinkle of an unseen bell chimes again. 

"Look." Emmett points, a faint amber glow at a distance much farther than the length of an ordinary basement. "Come on." 

Mila wants to protest, but her curiosity is just as thirsty.

The light ahead grows as they advance, finally recognizing it as a vintage streetlight, the candle inside burning softly. Nothing but darkness beyond its gleam.

"This basement leads outside?" Mila's disorientation forms words as they stand beside the pole. In the orb of light above them, bits of snow gently float in and out of visibility, though it's warm as midday in summer, no goosebumps beneath their scant pajamas. 

"This is a trip," Emmett admits, looking around. Noticing a sign on the other side of the lampost. Chuckling. 

"Does that say North Pole?" 

"You have to be kidding." Mila looks, eyes on the calligraphic cursive, an arrow pointing ahead.

"Well, we can't not go," Emmett postulates. Now she laughs.

"You have to be kidding," she repeats, this time to his suggestion. Emmett grins.

"I'll never be able to sleep unless we find out where this goes."

"You're serious?" 

"As the plague," he says, taking Mila's hand and tugging her along. The moment it's decided, another far-off street lamp illuminates, showing the way.

Acid.

That's the best explanation Mila can conjure as they pass four more light posts, bare feet unbothered by the snow, following signs that point to a destination straight from a children's story. How it got in their system is another question with no answer in sight.

The next light multiplies to a cluster, the largest ones yet, confirming her assumption. There's no way a three-story estate is packed into this basement, no matter how unfathomably proportioned.

Built on a square foundation, the large brick house is elegant and homey, the dozen front windows each glowing with golden light, shrubs frosted with warm snow lining the groundwork.

The bell chimes again.

A woman is sitting on the stairs that lead to the main door, nursing a cigarette. Sounds of laughter and music waft forward to meet Emmett and Mila as they approach the beautiful blonde. More scantily dressed than the two of them in their bedclothes.

"Hi." She grins, lips poinsettia-red, eyes mistletoe-green, tapping ash from her smoke. "Here for the party?"

Em and Mil exchange a glance. The dazzling woman smiles widely at Mila.

"You certainly are."

"Me?" she squeaks.

"Mmhmm. Come on."

Emmett looks to his girlfriend, confusion as bottomless as hers.

The girl rises, flicking the butt of the cig. Her ass is a round infinity loop, bound by seamless panties, corset emphasizing a tiny waist. Mesmerized, they follow her up the stairs.

Emmett holds Mila’s hand as they enter behind the mysterious, stunning woman, into the even more mysterious home. Gingerbread, peppermint, yams and chocolate fill their nostrils, each distinct, deliciously combined. They can taste their happiest childhood memories on their tongues, an unsuspecting, unmistakable flavor. The inside is as assuming as it seemed, decorated with dark wood, thick rugs, and burning candles. What they didn’t expect is the people fucking on the charming furniture.

“This way.” The blonde ambles lightly up the stairs, Mila and Emmett momentarily distracted by two girls in a sixty-nine on the nearest settee. A heavily muscled man standing behind a brunette bent at the waist. A red-head on her knees, at the feet of a gasping, gorgeous woman with ebony skin.

Emmett squeezes Mila’s fingers. Her panties dampen with every step.

The second floor is its own room, vertical beams supporting the enormous, open area, just as tastefully furnished as downstairs.

“Noelle.” The man who greets their guide is comfortable in a victorian style chaise, the leather-topped table beside him teeming with bare limbs and light moans. The statuesque blonde steps forward as he rises, kissing her full lips.

“Nicholas.”

“What have you found?” He’s older. Mature. Jaw framed with a chalk-white, neatly trimmed beard. His electric blue gaze speaks years of experience, body lean and hard despite implied age.

“Your newest guests.”

Nicholas warmly eyes them both. “It appears they found their way after all.” With that, he pulls a hundred-pound note from his pocket and sets it in Noelle’s hand. Emmett notices the paid wager.

“You thought we wouldn’t come?”

Nicholas grins. “I had no doubt about you, Emmett. Her, I wasn’t so sure.”

All eyes go to Mila. Never more self-conscious.

“How do you know us?” she wonders aloud, the tip of the arctic iceberg. Nicholas smiles wider.

“Oh, I know everything about you, Mila.” She blinks. “Don’t worry. You’re on the Nice List.”

Definitely acid.

His comment is a weight on her jaw as it drops toward the floor.

“You’re Santa Claus?” Emmett blurts.

“Call me ‘Nick’,” he says, offering his hand. Emmett laughs, returning the gesture.

“You’re a lot freakier than I pegged you for, Nick.” Nicholas catches his gaze that wanders to the table behind him, still alive with writhing men and women.

“I have the feeling you’ll fit right in.” His response comes with a wink.

Emmett looks to Mila. “Not without her.” Feeling lost as an untethered balloon, Emmett is what grounds her. She smiles. In a place where nothing seems real, she knows her boyfriend’s loving gaze is an absolute.

“Of course,” Nicholas inserts. “Tonight is meant for the both of you.”

His words are a cue, Noelle taking Mila’s empty hand.

“I’m so glad you came.” Her sweet voice is cool mint on a hot day, pulling Mila to the center of the candlelit room, Emmett in tow.

“You are?”

“You are the main event, after all.”

“I am?”

“You both are. Although, this wouldn’t be Emmett’s first time.”

Before they can ask, Noelle produces a neatly wound, cherry red rope, and places it in Emmett’s hand. He looks to his girl. His cock hard. As they stand, facing each other, the population of the house comes to attention, silent around the edges of the room, waiting for their decision. Emmett and Mila share a wordless conversation, though it’s less an exchange and more a question. Just one.

Do you want to do this?

Mila has never been bound before. Emmett has longed to be the first to do so. He searches her face as she considers the rope in his hand, the culmination of this moment.

“Hey.” He holds her chin, forcing her regard to center on him. “I love you, Mila. No matter what.”

And here she knows, if he would give it up for her, she would give anything for him.

Mila rises to her toes and pulls Emmett in for a kiss.

---------------------------------------------❄---------------------------------------------

On the floor in a sub’s pose, knees apart, Mila feels warm saliva drip onto her breasts where it quickly turns cold, nipples mimicking tiny marbles. She tries to swallow despite the hooks prying her mouth open. The first thing Emmett did was replace her clothes with ropes, her ‘shirt’ now a harness, framing her tits so tightly they protrude from her chest in a wicked fashion. The laced cord forces her arms behind her, refuses her legs to stretch, the intricate knots wrapping her like a present.

She shifts a little, careful to keep her eyes on the floor.

“Look at me.” Her eyes immediately go up. Eager. Emmett grabs himself. Hard as steel. “Look down.” She does this, too, without hesitation. He smiles. “Lie on your stomach.” Mila contemplates this with her wound-up limbs -- a fraction longer than acceptable.

"Now, Mila." His command makes her pussy contract. Aching to please him, she maneuvers herself onto a hip, hands searching for the floor; his request the equivalent of a creature with no feet being asked to dance. This is the humiliation she was afraid of. Surprised to find how wet it makes her.

Once Mila tips to a side, she rolls to her stomach. Emmett loops another rope around her feet, tying it to the cord connecting her elbows. A flexible little thing, her toes are nearly touching the crown of her head: an inverted fetal position.

"Look at me,” he demands again. When their eyes meet, he lowers to a squat and thrusts his cock down her throat.

Fistfuls of her lustrous brown hair, Emmett makes love to her face as the hooks hold her mouth agape, her fettered state forcing her to take all he gives. His aggression new. Exciting. 

When Mila gags, Noelle sighs, hand in her panties as she watches. The entire room is enthralled, some rubbing themselves or their neighbor, some silently stroking along with Emmett's thrusts. A participating audience. 

Mila's fingers flex and relax, the gymnast-like pose holding her hostage as her boyfriend groans at the feel of her tongue on the underside of his cock, watching wetness gather in her eyes. He has never used her so. His proper, polished sweetheart acting like a slut. Just for him. He pulls away sooner than he wanted, already on the verge as she gasps aloud. 

Untying her ankles from her arms, removing the apparatus from her head, she rolls her sore jaw as he mounts her hips and enters her from behind. 

"Ahhh," she moans, long and loud as he fucks her, viciously beautiful, in front of many people they don’t know. Emmett grabs her hair.

"Don't you fucking come," he growls through his teeth.

"Uhn please!" she begs. Emmett holds the thick strands ensnaring her arms and uses them as leverage as he rides her; reigns on a horse.

"You'll come when I tell you. A minute sooner and I'll spank you." 

"Ohh god, stop, please stop!" 

Emmett slows. "You want me to stop?"

"I'll come if you don't," she warns in whimpered soprano. He's never gotten her so close so quickly. Hasn't even touched her clit. A prospect that fuels his ego more than every woman before her. Rather than release, she opts to please him, the mark of natural obedience.

She's going to be a glorious submissive.

Emmett unbinds her arms and climbs off. She lies, racing for breath, watching him prepare her next adventure. Not even the aroused audience embarrasses her any longer. Mila startles when Emmett tightens more ropes around her and she suddenly leaves the floor behind. Suspended, legs apart, wrists together above her head, her weight evens itself, cradled by the intricately twisted net of red cables. The sensation of levitation is odd, yet interesting. 

Emmett slaps her clit, and she howls at the ceiling.

"Fuck, you are beautiful like this." 

Then he shoves two fingers inside her and thrashes against her g-spot. Mila means to brace herself, instead her weight urged forward, into his hand as she hangs from the low ceiling. Her sounds are a mixture of vowels and consonants.

"Oohhggaadfuuckyespleaaseeohyessss!!"

"Would you like a tongue in your ass?" 

"Yes, please! Yes!"

He turns to Noelle and the blonde smiles a row of pearls, jumping up. She kneels behind Mila and adheres her mouth to her tiny star. Mila unleashes a gasp so hard it makes her lightheaded, legs in a near split.

Emmett's fingers in her cunny, Noelle's tongue deep in her backside, the magnificent torture is unlike anything. He must constantly slow his ministrations to keep her climax at bay, though Noelle's mouth doesn't let up. She palms Mila's round ass, suspended four feet above the floor, eating her with vigor. Emmett watches the Christmas nymph lick his girl, admiring Mila's shimmering brown skin beneath the bright red ropes, the way she writhes and curses, begging as she never has. 

Eventually, it's too much.

"Please let me come --please-- I'll do anything!"

She's held off as long as she can, another pass of Noelle's wet tongue threatening to tarnish her compliance.

"Only if you come on my cock."

"Fuck yes, give it to me, fuck me!" Her vulgar demands are everything from his fantasies.

Noelle finally backs away as Emmett steps forward, holding some of Mila's weight, and glides inside her dripping slit so deep that when he bumps into her cervix, she comes on the spot. Clenching around his stalk like a fist, she climaxes in spectacular fashion. The type of orgasm that makes you rethink the meaning of pleasure, that pulls you in so deep you think you'll never surface again. She drowns in bliss.

"That’s right, baby, come for me." Seconds later he joins her. “Fuuuck,” Emmett moans, throbbing heavily, emptying himself deep within her.

Their coupling lasts a small eternity. Lost in one another.

When Emmett finally unties her from her puppet strings, she's barely coherent. Nicholas approaches them, Mila curled up in Emmett's arms. 

"How was that for a Christmas present?"

Mila smiles, drifting to sleep. 

---------------------------------------------❄---------------------------------------------

She wakes to the scent of coffee, encompassed in soft warmth. Something much warmer on her waist. Heavy. Emmett’s arm. Mila burrows into her pillow.

“Merry Christmas, my love.” She hums to his whisper. Sleep slowly seeping away, making room for the night to come back to her. When it does, she sits up so quickly it startles him.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Mila blinks. The view of their cozy rented cabin background to his handsome, worried face. “What is it?”

Mila blushes darker than a holly blossom. Emmett raises an eyebrow.

When his confusion doesn’t turn into a smirk, she grows worried herself.

“You okay?” he asks again.

She takes a breath. “Yeah, I just…” she trails off. He tilts his head. “Last night…”

“What about it? You fell asleep on the couch, so I brought you to bed.”

Now she’s as confused as he is. Mila throws off the blanket and climbs out of bed, ignoring the coffee and croissants prepared on the table, and heads to the hallway. Emmett follows. She goes directly to the misshapen door under the staircase and opens it, jogging down into the basement. Nothing waits but a room full of home supplies; blankets, an ironing board, shelves of toiletries and cleaning solutions. He folds his arms, amused, watching her turn in place.

“Looking for something?”

She stops.

“You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

Images of him tying her up with expert knots, the gorgeous blonde that lead them into that house, the warm, snowy trail that started in this spot -- it all dances in her head. It was real. How could it not be?

“Mila, you’re worrying me.” Emmett steps forward, holding her shoulders. When Santa ‘Nicholas’ Claus makes an appearance in her memories, she pauses.

“It was a dream.”

“You had a dream about the basement?”

“It was a bit more… involved than that.”

“What happened in your dream?”

Mila shakes her head. “It was nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

They share a long silence, Mila eventually moving to wrap her arms around his waist. He returns her embrace, nose in her hair.

“Never mind. It seems silly now.”

“Well… come upstairs and eat. I think Santa left you a present.”

There’s a hysterical edge in her laughter as he leads her up the stairs. They drink their coffee and laugh about her absurdity, migrating to the sofa and sitting together.

“So, what did Santa bring me?” she teases. Emmett grins, retrieving a small box from under the twinkling tree. He hands it to her, and when the lid is off, he drops to one knee.

Inside is a diamond ring.

“Mila.” Her breath is caught -- snagged on shock. “I love you. More than I can ever say.” Her attempt to swallow is cinnamon down her throat, looking into his large eyes. “I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with you. Please. Make me the happiest man in the world. Be my wife.”

Like a faucet, her tears start to run. He smiles. Though the night before was fantasy, it proves all the more that his love is real. Because he doesn’t know it, but she’s now certain she can make him happy. After last night, she knows she wants the same things.

“Yes.” Her whisper is hoarse. Honest.

His smile makes her the happiest woman in the world.

---------------------------------------------❄---------------------------------------------

One day later -- twenty-four hours of unrelenting euphoria; 1,440 minutes of irreverent, passionate sex; 86,400 seconds of being engaged -- Mila and Emmett are packing their bags.

When he tackles her onto the bed, interrupting her progress to continue what they started multiple times yesterday, she squeals.

“Isn’t the owner supposed to be by any minute?” Her gasp is lost in his ragged breath. Teeth on her neck.

“Yes.”

She moans, wrapping her legs around him.

“I suppose we’ll give him quite a show.”

Emmett smiles, grasping her ass and rolling to his back so Mila can straddle him, nipping his bottom lip.

“I had no idea you’d be up for that.” His jesting words bring back her dream. Little does he know, she may allow that someday. If it’s anything like her imagination promised. Emmett was thoroughly shocked when she asked him to tie her hands with a bathrobe sash last night. Her orgasm was fierce as Emmett’s enthusiasm.

“I’m up for quite a lot with you,” she whispers.

The doorbell rings. Emmett groans.

“Awful timing,” he mutters. Mila smiles, following him out of the room. The owner of the cabin informed them he’d be stopping by on their last day; a customary meeting to verify the satisfaction of their stay.

Mila picks up her mug and takes a swig of coffee as Emmett answers the door.

“Hello!” the tall gentleman beams. An older man with a friendly face.

“Hi,” Emmett responds, shaking his hand. “I’m Emmett. This is my fiance, Mila.” He sounds so proud to announce their status.

“A pleasure.”

“You must be Nick.”

Mila nearly drops her steaming mug. The ice blue eyes of Nicholas staring back at her. A smile on his face as he gives her a wink.