Chapter 9
Christmas
It was always just the four of us for Christmas. For Thanksgiving we spent one day with as much family as we could cram into one room, but our parents always liked to spend this time with just us.
Christmas day was the most fun it had been in years, mostly because Rose and I were on speaking terms again. We joked around like we did when we were kids, and I knew our parents could see the difference by the sly looks they kept giving each other.
After we’d eaten the delicious turkey dinner that we’d all helped to make, as was the tradition, it was time to open presents.
“Wait here.” said Rose to me as we moved into the living room, “I got you something.”
Again my parents exchanged knowing looks, and I rolled my eyes at them.
She came back holding a beautifully wrapped box with a bow on the top. It was small, big enough for maybe a book or something around that size. For a moment I was stunned at the effort she’d gone to, even though I already knew what was inside it.
I lifted off the lid and saw her gift, nestled in the centre of a pile of different coloured strips of thin paper, along with a hand-written note,
“To Steven. With love, your big sister.”
It was a twenty dollar bill.
I grinned, then immediately put on a look of shock. I picked up the money and held it in my hands, disbelievingly.
“Oh… wow.” I said, looking up at her, “This… I don’t know what to say. Thank you… so much…”
She grinned and took my hand. I squeezed it in return, as if we were feeling a moment of pure sibling connection.
“All I got you was a card.” I said, sounding ashamed.
I handed it to her, and saw her eyes light up.
She opened it and as she expected a twenty fell out onto her lap.
She read the card aloud,
“To Rose, the world’s best little sister. Merry Christmas.”
She leapt forward and threw her arms around me, kissing me on the cheek.
“Merry Christmas little brother.” she said, pretending like she was about to cry.
We heard a sob, and turned to see Mom actually was about to cry.
We all laughed at her reaction, including Dad, but it was actually understandable. This method of gift giving was another old tradition of ours, just like each insisting we were the older twin.
It had started on our 11th birthday, when we’d decided not to buy something for each other but just to give each other twenty dollars and buy whatever we wanted. It didn’t occur to us at the time how pointless a gesture it was, but we’d kept it up. The acting shocked and grateful just became part of the joke over the years.
The last two or maybe three years, however, we’d exchanged our ‘gifts’ in secret, almost. No cards, no notes, just the money left on a pillow, or handed directly to the other. It was really the last thing we’d had that had made us feel like we were even still related, a sad shadow of an old connection. Mom knew that all this emotion was an act, but seeing us play along with it meant that we were friends again, something that I’m sure our parents were overjoyed to see.
Mom waved away our laughter while trying not to break out in tears, and we got around to opening the rest of our presents. We had a large extended family, so we mostly got a lot of spending money from Aunts, Uncles, and cousins who had too many names on their mailing list to bother buying specific items for each individual. However this year, in amongst the cash and various gift vouchers, I opened a very expensive looking digital camera from an Aunt on my Dad’s side.
I spent a few minutes playing with it and looking at the instructions before setting it aside and moving on to the next present, as is a world-wide Christmas tradition for everyone with a big family, I’m sure.
Afterwards my Mom took me aside.
“I know you don’t really need a camera. I mean, there’s probably one on your phone.” said Mom, “But try to use it a few times, maybe send her some pictures you’ve taken. Show her you appreciate it.”
“I’ll sure I’ll find some use for it.” I told her.
I picked it up again.
“Well why don’t you start right now?” she asked, “Alright everyone, over by the fireplace!”
She tore Rose and Dad away from their discussion about soccer, a passion they shared. They were both clinging to a soccer themed calendar Dad had gotten from his brother and heatedly debating the details of the last seasons team structures.
The three of them lined up and I set the camera on a timer. I walked over and stood beside Mom, only for Rose to yank me over to her side, clinging on to my arm. When the flash went off my smile and look of surprise were completely genuine.
After admiring my new camera’s impressive definition, we all stretched out in front of the TV, Mom stoked the fire and Dad made us all hot chocolate and brought in a plate of mince pies.
It was the first time in a long while I’d felt like our family was whole again. I started to wonder why every Christmas hadn’t been like this.
“Don’t forget, we’re having Jessica and her parents over for dinner tomorrow.” my mom suddenly announced, “So leave something for dessert.”
Oh. Right.
Jessica.
==
We were all dressed our best when Jessica and her parents, Alice and Bob, arrived. Jessica was wearing a lovely little blue dress that was long enough to be decent, but still showed off her legs wonderfully. Alice was wearing a similar shaped dress, but in a dark green. I haven’t talked much about Alice before, but she was essentially an older, more mature version of Jessica. They had very similar faces, but her eyes were brown instead of Jessica’s vivid green.
And her tits were a lot smaller too, but that wasn’t something I noticed until puberty.
We sat down and ate the re-heated remains of our Christmas dinner, like always. We always ended up cooking too much, and it was almost as good the second time as the first.
The parents always had wine while Rose, Jessica and I had some sort of fancy sparkling grape juice. It was delicious, although I often wished we’d be allowed to try wine again.
This year my wish was granted. Instead of breaking out the kid stuff, Mom went right on around the table, filling our glasses too. We toasted, and I sipped the first alcohol I’d had since I was 15.
It was delicious. My taste buds had remembered how to enjoy the flavour, and I smiled as I absorbed the deep and satisfying sensation. I glanced up to see everyone staring at my reaction, confused that I didn’t grimace like the girls had. I smiled wider, remembering how similar their reactions were the first time we’d been allowed to taste it.
I knew they’d been drinking alcohol since then, but when Rose and I had talked about it she seemed to be more concerned with slightly alcoholic fruit drinks, or occasionally spirits mixed with energy drinks than wine.
I sipped my wine and enjoyed my meal, trying hard to avoid any lingering eye contact with Jessica. This was difficult, as she was wearing more make up than usual and looked, frankly, fucking incredible.
After dinner we put out dessert, which was warm apple pie and ice cream.
After this, we just sat and talked around the table. Honestly I wasn’t paying much attention to the conversations around me. As usual I was lost in my thoughts, just nodding or smiling at the appropriate times. This worked to my disadvantage when Rose suddenly turned to me and said,
“Right Steven?”
I raised my eyebrows and cocked my head, making it obvious I hadn’t been listening.
“McClaren’s Tools is the best place to get power tools, right?” she said.
“Yeah…” I agreed, “That’s where I’d get it.”
Not that I knew what ‘it’ was.
“What about Fix-It’s?” Bob asked, referring to the big chain store nearby.
“Good for supplies, but not tools.” I answered, “.They hardly ever do deals. They usually have the price even higher than normal because they haven’t got much competition. I used to work there.”
I’d spent last summer working the cashier and moving stock around.
“I thought you worked at McClaren’s.” Rose said.
“Yeah, I worked there too.” I replied, “That’s how I know old Mr. McClaren is related to one of his suppliers. It’s name brand stuff, but he gets a good deal on them, and charges less because of it.”
That had been the summer before. A much easier job working in the small, local shop, but also a lot more boring.
“Wow, you really know your stuff.” Bob said approvingly.
“That’s what I’m always telling you!” Dad suddenly interjected. “Both of my kids have got experience with work, and it’ll serve them well in future!”
“Oh, here we go…” I said, while Rose rolled her eyes.
“You see,” he began “When Susan and I got out of college, we didn’t know the first thing about looking after ourselves…”
Rose suddenly stepped in, mimicking his voice,
“We didn’t know how to clean, how to cook…”
I joined in for the last line,
“Couldn’t even boil an egg!” we said, laughing.
“Alright, alright.” Mom said, “We know you know this story, but it’s important.”
We had heard this a lot. As I’ve said before, our parents always taught us that being independent and competent was important. We did our own laundry, learned to cook meals for ourselves, and were encouraged to work through the summer. This story was told to us in some form or another every time we complained about having so much responsibility, so yeah… we’d heard it a lot.
“I’ve never heard this.” Jessica suddenly said from across the table.
“Well, why don’t you tell it to her then.” said Dad, looking at Rose and I.
I sighed.
“Basically, these two were both from fairly well-off families.” I started, wanting to get this over with, “They were coddled their whole lives, met in college and coasted through it. They graduated engaged, but had no idea how to get a job, look after a car, balance a check book…”
“Even when they got married they didn’t really know what they were doing.” Rose stepped in, “But when they decided to have us, they knew they had to get their shit together.”
She gasped suddenly,
“I mean… get their act together.” she corrected, although no one had chastised her for the slip.
“Anyway, long story short, we’re paying for their mistakes.” I finished.
“It’s not like that…” Dad said.
“We really had no idea what we were doing.” said Mom, “I mean, when we moved out here to have the kids, most of our stuff was still packed up from moving into our first apartment! We didn’t want to rely on our parents, but we couldn’t really look after ourselves either…”
“We promised each other that our kids would never turn out that way.” Dad said, “That they would know everything they needed to know before moving out. We always told them, grades are important, but learning how to hold down a job is more important.”
“Being independent is important.” Mom agreed. “For example, we gave them an allowance, but told them that if they wanted a car they’d have to earn the money themselves. They did, and now together they own that car. Despite how much money my Father makes, a car is more than I ever really owned at that age.”
There was a pensive silence.
“So… how many jobs have you had?” Jessica asked me, I think speaking directly to me for the first time that night.
“Um… like a dozen, maybe?” I said, “Three or four, part-time, every summer since I was about 15…”
“Well, he overdoes it.” said Rose, “I usually have one or two every summer.”
“Wow… I’ve never even had one job…” she said, looking ashamed.
There was a slight, uncomfortable pause.
“Yeah, but, you’re going to be Valedictorian, right?” I asked. “I mean, you probably already know what you’re going to college for.”
“Yeah…” she said, “I’m going to be a lawyer.”
I smiled. That suited her perfectly, I thought. Spending all day aggressively and intelligently arguing with people? That was her all over.
“Well, there you go.” I said, “That takes more work than whatever I’ll probably end up doing. You can figure the other stuff out when you come to it.”
“Exactly.” Bob chimed in, “Being independent is important, sure, but my little girl’s going to the best school in the country to be a lawyer, isn’t that right honey?”
“Right.” she smiled, although she was still looking at me.
The parents debated their various teaching styles for another ten minutes before the conversation moved on.
Half an hour later I excused myself to go to the bathroom down the hall. I didn’t hear her following me, but Jessica slipped in behind me and closed the door.
“Can I help you?” I asked, turning to her.
“You look really good.” she said seductively.
I was wearing a button-down shirt, black dress pants and black tie.
“Thanks.” I mumbled shyly.
I internally chastised myself, reminding myself who I was talking to.
“What do you want?” I asked.
She simply smiled and dropped to her knees.
“Really?” I asked condescendingly, “You want to do this now?”
Her smiled faltered, but she nodded.
I sighed and stepped towards her, lifting her chin with one finger.
“Your parents are two rooms away. So are mine. Not to mention my sister, your best friend.” I said, “And you want to suck my cock?”
She smiled again.
“Yes please.” she said.
I shrugged nonchalantly and reached down to unbuckle my belt. She reached up and fished my cock out of my pants, gently squeezing it’s flaccid length.
I stood in silence as she went about getting me hard, a feat that took only seconds. In a few more seconds I was in her throat, enjoying the heat and pressure. She was moving slowly, thoroughly licking and pleasuring my cock each time it left her throat. It felt wonderful, but I felt pressed for time. We’d be noticed as missing eventually.
“I’m going to miss this big cock, Sir.” she sighed, jerking my shaft with both hands.
“Hurry up.” I grunted.
I put my hand on her head to encourage her as she took me back into her mouth, but I was careful not to mess up her hair. She obeyed and increased her pace, slamming my erection into her clenching throat again and again. I sighed with pleasure. I wasn’t going to get this again for two weeks, so I was determined to remember it.
It had only been a few minutes but I already wanted to finish, paranoid about being discovered.
“Going to have to make this a fast one, sweetheart.” I said, holding her head in place.
I began to thrust into her, fucking her face with long, fast strokes. I flexed my cock and allowed myself to orgasm. I came harder than I expected to, and let out a loud grunt of pleasure as I blew my load into her swallowing throat.
I slid my shrinking cock out of her mouth and tucked it back into my pants. Looking down I saw that Jessica was looking up at me with a dazed smile on her face, her lipstick smudged.
“Stand up.” I ordered quietly.
She was quick to obey. I reached under the hem of her dress and felt the crotch of her panties. She let out a sultry little whimper when I realised they were soaking wet. I impulsively grabbed the waist band and yanked it up, causing the material to grind against her sensitive lower lips.
She gasped with pleasure and grabbed my arm with both hands.
“Such a shame we can’t do anything about this…” I sighed.
“Two… two more weeks.” she responded shakily.
I smiled. She was really determined to keep to our agreement.
“Can you really wait two more weeks?” I asked.
She nodded, biting her lip.
“You said I have to wait. I’ll wait.” she said.
My smiled grew wider.
“Such an obedient little slut.” I said, releasing her panties.
I grabbed her ass and pulled her into a kiss which she eagerly responded to, then I pulled away again after a few seconds. I loved leaving her frustrated. It gave me a small but pleasant rush of Dominance each time I saw the disappointment in her eyes. She knew that I was in control of her pleasure, and if it didn’t come from me then it wouldn’t come at all.
“Good girl.” I said, pulling away.
I was about to leave, but remembered I hadn’t actually used the bathroom yet.
I turned towards the toilet got my cock out again. I started to piss, then realised Jessica was still watching me. She seemed fascinated by my cock, I guess having never seen one urinate before. Despite how many times she’d seen me naked, this was somewhat embarrassing.
I finished, shaking off the last few drops and tucking it back in.
“I didn’t get you anything.” she said suddenly.
I turned towards her.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“For Christmas.” she clarified, “I… I didn’t get you something. I wanted to, but you said we have to keep it a secret, so I thought it would look weird. I mean, Rose knows that I don’t usually get anyone except her and my parents presents, so she definitely would have been suspicious, and… I didn’t really know what to get you either…”
“I wasn’t expecting anything.” I said honestly, “And I didn’t get you anything.”
She nodded, but still looked guilty. Jessica getting me a Christmas present? Despite everything, that still felt like such a weird concept, like a looking outside and seeing a green sky. Something that just didn’t make sense.
“Go on.” I said, sighing, “We shouldn’t leave together.”
“Ok.” she said quietly. “But I need to go upstairs first. I have to… change my panties.”
I laughed at the way she said this, a strange mix of shame and pride.
“Go ahead.” I said, turning to wash my hands. “Fix your make-up, too.”
She slid out of the room behind me.
I washed her lipstick off my lips, and made sure I looked presentable before re-joining everyone.
The rest of the night was pretty uneventful, although every time I looked at Jessica I suddenly found it hard to stop picturing her soft, plump lips, and how they’d been wrapped around my cock just an hour or two earlier.
Rose went with Jessica and stayed at her place that night, as they were planning to leave from there to the airport the next day. I could tell by the way she looked at me that she wanted a more exciting goodbye, but with everyone around she couldn’t do anything more than give me a chaste hug and a quick,
“Merry Christmas.”
==
The day after that, my parents were leaving too.
“We’re heading out, Son.” Dad called up to my room.
I walked down to see them off.
“Have a good time.” I said.
“You too.” Dad smiled, “And, uh… there’s some beer in the fridge left over. Have at them.” He said winking.
“Are you sure you’re going to be Ok by yourself?” my Mom asked at the door.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” I said.
She didn’t answer right away, but just looked concerned.
“You know you can have some friends over, if you want.” she said, “Or… you know… a girl.”
I smiled. So that was the problem. For the first time in years, Mom was worrying about my self-imposed isolation.
“Sure, I’ll make sure to keep the place clean though.” I said, brushing off her suggestion as if it were no big deal.
She smiled, then nodded.
“Have fun!” she said, picking up her last bag and heading out the door.
That was definitely the plan.
==
The first few days were as exciting at they normally were, but the novelty of being able to wander around in my underwear and eat leftover pizza for breakfast, and cereal for dinner wore off surprisingly quickly.
Normally I was ecstatic to have the house to myself, but this time it didn’t feel as special. There was something missing. Maybe it was just the fact that I no longer had to hide in my room when Jessica was around, meaning I was more used to spending free time down here.
Rather than being overjoyed that everyone else was gone, I found myself wondering what everyone was doing, and what kind of fun they were having. I just sulked about the house, my grey mood reflected by the clouds outside, not even bothering to snow deciding instead to drizzle continuously without any real energy.
By New Year’s Eve, the feeling I normally enjoyed was completely gone, leaving only a strange sense of loneliness and melancholy. I counted down to midnight alone, feeling not a trace of the excitement I’d felt even the year before.
The next day, January 1st, I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself, and start enjoying my vacation.
My plan that night was to just get drunk. I was alone and now had access to alcohol, and I was aware that I’d never really been properly drunk before. So that evening I assembled my dad’s generous offering on the kitchen table, turned on the TV, and started to drink. I sipped the first one, grimacing at the uniquely bitter taste, but trying hard to enjoy it.
After half an hour I still wasn’t finished that can, so I decided to start gulping it. Within 20 minutes I was half way through my third can. By the fourth, I found that I was starting to enjoy the flavour. It was deeper, richer taste than I first realised, and by the sixth can I was practically swirling it around in my mouth to absorb as much of it as possible. It tasted nothing like the wine, but it was the same process as I’d applied there, not trying to mask the taste or wish it was something else, but just experiencing it for what it was.
In the middle of a drink something on the TV made me laugh and I spat a mouthful all over myself. I didn’t really mind, though. In fact, I laughed again.
It was at this point that I realised that the alcohol might be affecting me. Further evidence of this theory presented itself when I reached for another can, leaned too far, and somehow slid right off my chair. I didn’t really mind this either. I spent the rest of the night down there watching TV, for some reason deciding to return to the same spot each time I got up for another beer or to go the bathroom.
I discovered that I quite enjoyed being drunk. The buzzing sensation around my ears, the somehow pleasant dizziness, the quieting of my normally restless thoughts. Overall it was a pretty relaxing state to be in. I don’t think it’s surprising that I don’t exactly remember how much I drank, or much else about the night.
What I do know is that I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, a fairly intense feeling of nausea, and a surprisingly clean house. The cans were cleaned away, as was the puddle of beer that I definitely remember spilling. I had a vague memory of thinking that cleaning up would be easier drunk than hung over, and I really appreciated my own foresight.
I had, however, left the TV on and the front door unlocked.
So… I guess that one sort of balances itself out? Maybe not.
That was probably the most interesting night of my time alone, for more reasons than one.
A few days later, I got a package delivered to the door in my name. I signed for it, having no idea what it was, and took it inside to open it.
It was a ball gag.
A bright, red, rubber ball on a black leather strap with a stainless steel buckle to fasten it. It was about as cliché and classic a ball gag as it was possible to have. I lifted it out of the box and just held it in my hands, staring at it for about five minutes straight.
I was utterly confused.
Eventually, some dim ember of memory glowed in my mind and I recalled ordering it from a fetish website from my laptop after maybe my tenth beer of the night. I decided to investigate this further, but for some reason I’d decided to clear my internet history, so I had no idea if I’d ordered anything else. But after checking my bank account online I saw that I’d taken a noticeable chunk out of my savings.
The next day, I got another package.
The day after that I got two more.
At first I had to try to keep myself from panicking as the boxes kept coming, but I noticed that with each new item I got a little more excited. I recognised most of the items as soon as I saw them, but there a few things that I had absolutely no memory of even being interested in. I studied each one as it arrived, making sure I knew exactly what it was and how it was used. Not too difficult a task for the three bottles of lube, but quite a bit more of a challenge for the complicated metal contraption that had to be assembled by hand. I eventually discovered that it was a cheap collapsible spreader bar.
I stashed each new item in an old suitcase in the bottom of my closet that I’d been meaning to throw out. As my collection grew, so did my gleeful anticipation. I was going to get to use these things, I thought. It’s one thing watching a porn-star Dom using things like this on a beautiful young submissive, (you know, just for reference…) but it was quite a different experience actually holding them in my own two hands and imagining just how I would use them with Jessica.
How her teeth would look biting into the gag, or how her eyes would widen with fear the next time I had to punish her…
I was starting to think of my drunken spending spree as a happy accident, rather than a stupid mistake.
Despite all this, I was hoping against hope that each new delivery would be the last, as each day brought my time alone closer to its finish.
Finally, the day before my parents were due to return, the final box arrived. Unfortunately, they got back a day early, and before I woke up. When I got out of the shower a little before noon, I heard them moving around downstairs. I walked down into the living room to see an open, empty cardboard box.
“What do you need one of these for?” I suddenly heard my dad ask from behind me.
I jumped about a foot in the air and span to face him. The blood drained from my face before I even looked at what he was holding. He stretched it out between his fingers, displaying it to me.
It was a blindfold. More specifically, a sleeping mask. A soft black eye cover with a slightly lighter satin pattern across the front, with a thin, elastic strap.
I let out a long sigh and forced a smile. Thank God it was something vaguely innocent.
“Jeez Dad, I didn’t know you were back!” I said, trying to explain away my shock.
“Yeah, the weather wasn’t great so we grabbed an earlier flight.” he said.
“Just at the end there, it was bad.” Mom chimed in, entering from the hallway, “Until a few days ago it was just gorgeous.”
Looking at them closer, I could see that Mom had a nice brown tone to her skin, whereas Dad was bright red.
“Yeah, it looks like you got some sun.” I smiled, trying to hide my nervousness.
“Well, one of us got a little more than some sun.” Dad joked, gesturing with his sunburned arms.
“So what’s with this?” Mom asked, taking the blindfold from Dad and spinning the thin, smooth strap in her fingers.
“Oh, I’ve been having some… uh, headaches.” I lied quickly, “Like, I get really sensitive to light. So I just bought that, uh, sleep mask. Thought it might help.”
“That’s not good.” Dad said, sounding concerned, “Sounds like a migraine.”
“No, no, it’s not that bad.” I explained “It’s just… you know, every couple of weeks I just get this headache where the slightest bit of light makes it worse. Even the moonlight bothers me when my eyes are closed! I could probably just take some painkillers, but I thought this might be easier.”
Mom let out a little ‘Hm.’, sounding satisfied with my story, and threw it to me.
“Well, don’t ignore it if it gets any worse.” she said.
I nodded and tried to inconspicuously jam the thing in my pocket, knowing that this could have been a disaster if had been literally any other item that they’d found..
“You know, you shouldn’t really be opening my mail.” I said, trying to sound slightly offended. I still wasn’t sure this was really the final package, and wanted to make sure they wouldn’t do any more snooping.
“Sorry about that, didn’t mean to.” Dad said, “Just signed for it before even checking the name. We assumed it was for one of us.”
“We’ll check next time.” Mom agreed.
We talked for a little while, me getting some of the details of their trip, and they getting a heavily edited version of my time alone. Then I excused myself and ran up to my room.
I closed the door, wishing it had a lock on it, and opened my closet. I pulled out my suitcase, which I’d been referring to in my head as my “Bag of Tricks” and looked at my new collection. I won’t go into details just yet, but it was a selection of tools that any novice Dom would be lucky to own.
Looking at the complete collection, I felt the same rush of excitement that had been building with each new delivery. Jessica was due back any day, and she’d have this waiting for her. Where would I even begin?
I realised I was grinning wildly, my imagination frantic with the possibilities of what I could do to her. I calmed myself down, deciding to refine the solid plans I’d been creating for each and every item before even letting Jessica know they existed. So far with her I’d mostly been winging it, relying on half-plans and improvisation. But some of the things I’d acquired here… they were dangerous. I had to be absolutely sure of what I was doing.
Before I knew it, Rose was back home and blabbering on about all the stuff she’d done in Paris. I was glad she’d enjoyed herself, but I couldn’t wait for the following Friday when I knew Jessica would be coming over. It had been just over two weeks since our dinner, and I was eager to reunite with her.
To either punish or reward her.
=======
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