Shelley is Morgana’s mother. Wife of David. She’s somewhat aware that David and I have some kind of working relationship, but as I understand from David, she doesn’t know all of it. I understand that discretion is the better part of valour, and for what it’s worth, I care about her a great deal, so sometimes we’ll get together and I’ll get the down and dirty on how he’s been “performing”. It really disappoints me when I hear he hasn’t been applying what he’s learned. I believe sometimes he’s just a lazy student. Still, I can always find new ways to motivate.
“It’s… he’s been busy at work lately. So…” she wiped the cappuccino froth from her lip. We stood beside the entrance to Santa’s grotto – little Morgana sitting with the other youngsters in “elf training school” – a holding tank for children run by a disgruntled looking teen in questionable elf ears.
“I’m not sure why you’re making excuses for him. You have a job too.”
“Well, yes. But… I don’t know. Maybe it’s me. I read this article that not all women can orgasm through penetrative sex. Maybe it’s a post-childbirth thing or…I don’t know. We’ve been married a long time. There’s not much electricity. You know?”
That gave me an idea…
“Or maybe he just needs to try harder. Does he cum?”
Some suburban trophy wife shot us a filthy look over her shoulder. I scoffed. Shelley giggled.
“Yes of course… but I mean, men can’t help it, right?” she whispered.
“I think you should instill a rule. He doesn’t come until you do. He wore that cage for a while…”
“He complained about it. I didn’t have the heart to put him back in it.”
“Of course he did. You should though.”
At this point, our conversation was interrupted by a piercing scream. Little Morgana had vaulted over the fence of elf-school and was running towards us, arms outstretched. Shelley caught her in her arms.
“Whatever is the matter?”
He – being Santa. From behind us, in the make-shift nursery, the familiar robed figure of Mall Santa towered next to teen elf. While the other kids cheered and looked on in admiration, poor Morgana was beside herself with fear and sadness, burying deep into her mother’s bosom for comfort. It was an odd reaction for five, but Morgana isn’t the usual child. And Suburban Mall Santa’s tend on the more sinister side (think Billy Bob Thornton from Bad Santa).
“You don’t have to see him, if you don’t want to, darling.” Shelley cooed, stroking her hair. “But there’s nothing to be scared of. And besides, don’t you want to ask him for something for Christmas?”
Morgana shook her head vigorously into her mother’s wet bosom. Around us, Mariah Carey played tinnily through the Mall speaker as the grim procession of Christmas shoppers passed in all directions around us.
Morgana’s such a smart girl. I learnt far later in life than her to run from gluttonous men with overfilled sacks that sneak into your bedroom at night. As for being good all year – well. Where’s the fun in that? We retreated from the grotto and its sickly popcorn scent to grab dinner. I had some ideas for my next session with David too. No electricity, hmm? I had a feeling I could fix that.
I hope you have a wonderful Christmas and holiday season. My Premium Members are so very supportive, and while I know I am too generous to them, I still feel this time of year demands a degree of gratitude to them, so for them I have the very best of Christmas wishes.
Mistress Katia Thornwood.