Author’s note: I’ve said it often. I never know when inspiration would struck. I woke up this morning with this idea of a follow-up, or sequel to that story, after Karen receives her gift from Santa. I wrote it as soon as I got up. I haven’t proof read it, I’m just too eager to post it. Art will come later, as it may take a few days and, well, that part of the story needs to be posted ASAP. Enjoy.

The first parts of “Santa Knows” can be found here

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December 25.

In the morning, things dawned on her.

“What the hell was I thinking?” she said to herself.

What about her friends, family? Her job? She was a receptionist! She had to take calls, communicate.

How will her family take it? Will she get rejected? Derek seemed surprisingly fine with it.

They were receiving family and friends for Christmas dinner. Should she cancel?

“Nah. First, it’s too late for that, some of them are already traveling on their way, and second, what is there to say? You got it from Santa, after all.” he simply said.

She went to work, preparing diner, the turkey, the meat pies and stuff, all day long, struggling in her latex cocoon, feeling the layer of sweat slide between the latex and her skin, balancing on her extreme boots, fighting the corset, seeing the shine of the bright kitchen light on her arms boobs and thighs as she moved. Loving every fucking minute of it!

And things went even better when, early afternoon, Derek came in with some lengths of chains and padlocks and chained her hands in front of her and her ankles together with short chains, forcing her to hobble, impairing her movements.

Oh darn! 

Then the first guess arrived.

The doorbell rang.

Her dildos fired!!!

Oh fuck! Why now?

“Hello Derek. Merry Christmas. Where is Karen? In the kitchen?”.

“Hello Lynda, Merry Christmas. Yes, she is. Go on!” he said

Karen panicked. How… Why Derek simply send her to the kitchen? Has he already forgotten that she was sealed in rubber and tied up?

“Oh! Hello Karen. Wow, you look splendous!” said the blond woman, wide eyes, glaring at Karen, all smiling. “Santa did treat you well.” she said, giving Karen a hug.

It was strange feeling a hug through her thick and tight rubbery confinement, her rigid corset. At the same time, her dildos became silent.

She tried to hug her back but was blocked by her chains. She raised her arms and passed the chain behind Lynda’s head and shoulders to hug her back, forcing her to get their head side by side.

“I’m so happy for you, Karen.” she whispered in her ears.

It was almost a good thing her face was hidden under that thick rubber layer, because Karen’s expression was totally stunned! What the hell was going on here?

Similar things repeated as more guests came in. Her dildos would fire as the doorbell was rang and would stop after a hug. She was literally getting screwed by the visitors!

She joined the party, getting a sip of wine from time to time through a straw as if it was totally normal for everybody else. Nothing weird here. She felt the alcohol in her stomach but couldn’t taste, feel any of it. It could have been straight gin, she wouldn’t have known the difference! Until the effects kicked in, that is.

She couldn’t talk. She could only, although barely thanks to her rigid posture collar, nod yes or no to show her agreement or not to the discussion, but she couldn’t contribute to any of them.

Reality was quickly sinking.

She began the service. She felt weird and  hot at the same time, feeling like a… rubber maid. Was that it? Was it what she became? Then she would need a french maid outfit… made of rubber preferably. Woah! What was she thinking!

After everybody was served, she sat and looked at the long table, filled with food and drinks, realizing that she  wouldn’t have any of it unless it went through some blender first.

She put her arms on each side of her empty plate, slowly turning her arms, admiring the reflection of the dining room lamps reflecting on them, slowly flexing her fingers, feeling the tight and thick rubber covering them. That was such a beautiful sight.

Her mouth watered up at the sight of all this food, all these different flavors. But all she could taste was rubber. All she could smell was rubber.

Denial. Such an arousal feeling.

She sat there, motionless, eyes closed, but unseen by her guests through her dark lenses, her mind wandered in her imaginary world of fantasy, latex and bondage. She was abruptly snapped out of it by Derek.

“Hey!” he almost yelled. “Karen shouldn’t just, you know, stay like that. Any ideas?”

Fifteen minutes later, the center of the long table had been cleaned and Karen was hogtied on it, people putting back plates of food on her immobile body, laughing, slapping her tight butt in the process, ordering her not to move, that anything falling off her would get her a punishment.

And that’s how she ended up, for the rest of the evening, her arms boxtied in her back, suspended by her feet in the living room while guests continued to exchange gifts.

She was finally untied and chained in the kitchen to clean her mess before going to bed, but since Derek was drunk, he fell asleep and Karen ended up stuck in the kitchen until mid-morning the next day.

He found her, laying on the counter, her neck chain linked to the ceiling preventing her from sitting on the floor.

Surprisingly, as she struggled to get back up and Derek tied her hands in her back, inviting her to get some good rest in the bed, she felt… good. She liked it.

Once in the bed, she wished she was restrained more, but how to communicate that?

So… she moved. Constantly, non stop, until he linked her neck to the headboard and her feet to the foot of the bed. Now she would sleep well.

Back to work.

Well, she did have to work. She couldn’t just… quit. Or could she?

Since everybody at the party took it well of  how she was dressed and impaired, she figured that the rest of the world would. And she was right.

On the bus, no one gave more attention than usual. It was normal. Well, Sanda made it after all.

However, once she reached her workplace and everybody greeted each other, her boss came to her.

“Well, it will be difficult to have you as the receptionist with the little… voice problems you have. Lucy will take over. In the meantime, just go in the break room while we figure out what to do.” said her boss.

Karen answered by gesturing typing.

“Yes, of course, that’s one solution, but we don’t have plain typists. Every job has to interact verbally through the phone. Hum… Oh! I think I have a better idea which should suit you even better. I’ll be back in a few moments.”

He came back half an hour later, smiling.

“Yes, Corporate agrees with my plan, so come. We’re going to the warehouse.”

Karen mimics driving.

“No, you’re not going to drive a forklift. It’s gonna be even better.”

Another half an hour later…

“Too tight?” he asked as he fastened the last tie-wrap fixing her to the frame of a pallet.

She nodded no.

“Okay. This is only temporary until we find you a proper fastening board. Okay boys, get her up!” he said to co-workers.

Karen was lifted off the ground, spread eagled on the wooden pallet, unable to move. She was raised to the ceiling and put where a defective camera was located.

“Now remember the button you have on your hand. You have to record when there’s movement. The camera works but its motion sensor is bad, you’re replacing it. Someone will get you down at the end of the day.” he said, waving her goodbye and leaving.

So, there she was, suspended slanted forward, tied to a frame, feeling the tight tie-wraps dig into her body, loving the feeling, the restraints, her… new job?

And the magic of Santa’s gift continued as it was not difficult to spot movement. Every Time there was any, her dildos would fire. Pressing the button was almost a reflex induced by the dildos.

Now, already, 361 days before the next Christmas, she wondered… Should she be a good girl or a bad girl?

© monsterp63

December 28, 2020