Santa Gets Brainwashed

In the shadow of the long winter nights, snow silently blanketed the world outside, casting a serene pall over the landscape that mirrored the cold desolation within St. Nick’s heart. Inside his grand but somber living room, the glow of the fireplace flickered across his face, illuminating the lines of loneliness etched deeply into his features.

The colorful Christmas lights twinkled sadly from the tree, their cheer a stark contrast to his internal gloom. He felt distant, detached from the joy and connection that the season promised.

Nick’s body echoed his spirit’s malaise; his penis, once a source of vibrant life and pleasure, now hung limply, a clearly marked symbol of his sexual starvation. It had been an eternity since it pulsated with the warmth of a lover’s touch, like the electric light of the nose glowing so bright.

The holiday season, meant for love and sharing, seemed only to magnify his isolation.

As he dwelled in his solitude, the doorbell rang — a sound so rare it startled him from his reverie. Curious, he opened the door to find a figure shrouded in mystery.

Doc, a name whispered in the corridors of the obscure, stood before him, her eyes piercing through the dim light with a predatory glint.

“May I come in, Nick?” Her voice was smooth, a velvety caress that seemed to reach inside him and stir a long-forgotten heat. Despite his hesitation, he stepped aside, compelled by her commanding presence.

Doc entered, her every step measured and assured. She glanced around the room with an air of seeing beyond the mere physical space — into the very corners of Nick’s psyche. “You’ve called me here without even realizing it, Nick. Your need is well… and it drew me to you.”

As she spoke, her eyes never left his, and something in her gaze flickered — the promise of something forbidden and wholly necessary. “Your loneliness is profound, your desire lifeless. But I can change that. I can bring you back to life.”

Nick felt a pulse of fear and anticipation. “How?” he managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Through surrender,” Doc said as she closed the distance between them, her fingertips brushing against the skin of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. “Surrender to me, and I will infuse your life with pleasure you’ve forgotten was possible.”

She guided him to the sofa, her touch assertive yet strangely comforting. Sitting him down, she knelt before him, her eyes level with his. “Watch me,” she instructed.

Doc’s hands moved to his thighs, her touch light but insistent. She spoke in low, hypnotic tones, weaving her words into the fabric of his mind. “With every word I say, your body will respond, your desire will grow. But it will only find release when you give, when you embrace the act of generosity that defines you.”

As Nick settled deeper into the plush cushions of the sofa, his body tingling with newfound sensitivity, Doc leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper that filled the space between them with charged anticipation. Her eyes locked onto his, unblinking and intense, as she began to weave a narrative that tugged at the darker corners of his psyche.

“Nick, let’s not pretend,” Doc murmured, her breath warm against his ear. “Mrs. Claus, she’s no longer the companion you once adored. She doesn’t touch you anymore, does she? She’s left you cold and wanting, sleeping alone while the festive joy of the world spins around you.”

Her words, laced with a provocative truth, struck a chord deep within him. Doc’s hand rested lightly on his knee, her touch a stark contrast to the warmth her words lacked. “Imagine her indifference pushing you away night after night, leaving you to find solace among the elves. But even they, with their small, nimble hands, could never replace what you truly need.”

Nick’s breath hitched as her narrative painted a picture of his loneliness, magnifying his neglect and isolation. Doc’s voice dipped even lower, her tone mixing sympathy with a wicked edge of control. “Poor Nick, a king in a frozen castle, untouched, unloved, your mighty throne left cold by her neglect.”

She shifted, her body now hovering over his, her proximity overwhelming. “But I’m here now, Nick. I touch where she won’t. I see what she can’t. You’ve been denied the very essence of your desires, pushed to the shadows of your own home. But I can bring you back to life. I can make you feel wanted, powerful, and most importantly — satisfied.”

She held a cookie between her fingers, an ordinary treat infused with extraordinary significance through her intent. Her eyes, alight with mischief and dominance, fixed on Nick, commanding his full attention.

“Now eat, Nick,” Doc commanded softly, her voice laced with an irresistible authority that sent a shiver down his spine. Obediently, he parted his lips, accepting the cookie as she placed it gently into his mouth. The sweet, rich flavor exploded on his tongue, a reminder of the indulgences he had denied himself for so long.

s the cookie crumbled between Nick’s eager lips, stray bits scattered down his chest, a cascade of sweet crumbs over the red fabric of his Santa suit. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned forward. The heat from the fireplace accentuated the sharp contours of her face as she began to trace the path of the crumbs with her tongue, licking them off his chest with a deliberate slowness that was both tantalizing and torturous.

“You love giving, don’t you, Nick?” she murmured against his skin, her breath warm and her voice dripping with a sultry command. Each word was punctuated by the soft touch of her tongue against his chest, sending shivers down his spine.

As she spoke, her hand found its way to his soft limp cock, wrapping around his arousal with a firmness that made him gasp.

“Ho… ho… hooooo.” His eyes popped out as if they were on springs.

The fabric of his suit did little to shield him from the intensity of her death grip.

“You love giving,” she repeated, her voice now a whisper that vibrated through his very core.

She straddled his lap, skin against the festive red of his suit, creating a stark contrast that was as visually striking as it was sensually overwhelming.

“You love giving, don’t you, Nick?” she insisted, locking eyes with him as she positioned herself atop him.

“Nick, you’ve always been the giver, haven’t you? The whole world knows St. Nick as the one who brings joy and gifts to all the children. But now, imagine this,” she paused for effect, her gaze piercing into him, “the children of the world are content, they have all they need. Their smiles are bright, their laughter rings clear — they need nothing more from you.”

“But here, in this room, there’s someone who still needs, someone who craves your generosity. That’s me, Nick. I need you to give, not to the children of the world, but to me. Just as much, if not more.”

Doc placed her hand gently on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart as she laid down the terms of his new reality. “So, you have a choice, but it’s not really a choice, is it? You can either hold onto your gifts, let them gather dust while the children remain happy without them, or you can give them all to me, feel the profound pleasure of fulfilling my desires, and find a new purpose.”

Doc leaned in closer, her eyes locked with Nick’s, capturing him in a moment charged with anticipation. As the space between them vanished, her lips met his, initiating a kiss that quickly deepened with urgency and intent. Her tongue teased at the seam of his lips, seeking entrance, and Nick, caught in the web of her allure, parted them without hesitation.

So direct and personal, drew a low groan from deep within him, his hands finding her waist to pull her even closer, deepening their connection as the world around them seemed to fade away.

“Ho… ho… hooooo.”

As their kiss grew more intense, Doc whispered into the heat of their close embrace, her voice thick with desire, “Oh, I know, Nick. I know you want this. I do too.” Her breath was hot against his ear.

One by one, she tugged the gloves from his fingers, liberating the skin of his fingers to the cool air of the room, then with a force she guided his bare hand between her legs, pressing his fingers against the warm, inviting softness of her cunt.

“You are so wet, Doc,” he murmured, each word a breathless echo of his wonder and delight. “So wet. My submission… it turns you on, doesn’t it?”

As he explored her deeper, the slippery warmth of her intensified, drawing a groan from his throat. His fingers danced within her, feeling her clench around him in response. Pulling his hand back, Nick brought his fingers to his lips, tasting her — a mix of sweetness and arousal that made his head spin. He savored the flavor.

Then, reaching for a glass of milk on the nearby table, he took a sip, the cool liquid contrasting sharply with the heat still lingering on his tongue.

Doc gazed intently into Nick’s eyes, “You can spread your gifts thin, giving little bits to everyone, or you can concentrate all that pleasure into one place where it’s deeply felt and truly valued — right here with me.”