Mary Christmas

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between Fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

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Mary read the text on her smart phone. “Boarding, see you around ten.” Paul would be home for Christmas. She normally didn’t mind the amount of travel he did with his job, but the just-before-Christmas annual company planning meeting had always irked her. Paul was always gone for the three days before Christmas. He had explained to her, “It’s got to be done right at the end of the year, so it is either just before or just after Christmas. We will still have Christmas eve and Christmas day together”

Christmas was a very special holiday for Mary. Her maiden name, which she kept when she married Paul, was Yule. Evidently, somewhere way back, one of her ancestors was responsible for building the Yule fire and for feeding the Yule Log slowly into the fire during the Winter Solstice celebrations that pre-dated Christianity in much of northern Europe. With a name like Mary Yule, it was natural that people would call her Mary Christmas. And with a nickname like Mary Christmas, it was natural that she would either hate Christmas or it would be her favorite holiday. Mary loved Christmas.

Mary and Paul had even been married on Christmas day. It had been almost impossible to find a minister or justice of the peace who would marry them on that day. Finally, in desperation, Mary had Googled “Pastor Kringle” and found a pastor by that name only a couple hours drive from where they lived. Because of his name, he understood and agreed to officiate. His first name was Christopher, spelled with a “K,” so on Christmas Day, five years ago, Mary Christmas was joined to Paul Davis in holy matrimony by none other than Pastor Kris Kringle, himself.

This was their five year anniversary, and Mary wanted this to be the most special Christmas ever. She had a very special gift in mind for Paul. When he got home, he would find HER wrapped beneath the tree. Well, not exactly beneath the tree. She would be more like a separate tree standing – or more accurately, hanging – in the middle of the living room.

She had been preparing this for months. It actually started last Christmas when she saw a picture on line. She was looking for decorating ideas by searching for pictures of unusual Christmas lights. One of the pictures which popped up was of a woman in bondage who was wrapped completely in hundreds, if not thousands, of Christmas lights. The woman’s legs were in a spreader bar and her feet were barely touching the ground. Her hands were held high and taut above her head by ropes which hung from a stout hook that had been screwed into a ceiling rafter. As soon as Mary had seen that image, she knew what she was going to get Paul for their fifth anniversary. But it was going to take a lot of planning.

The house was a western design with lots of wood everywhere. She bought a heavy, wagon-wheel style chandelier which looked very good in the living room, but required a very strong anchor to hang from the ceiling. Paul didn’t quite understand why she was so worked up when he installed it.

“You really like this, don’t you?” he said as he looked at her standing flushed and almost panting watching him use a hammer as a lever to screw the massive black hook into the ceiling. As soon as he was finished, she took him into the bedroom and made mad, passionate love to him. “Wow,” he said afterwards. “I need to put up new lighting more often.”

Mary just smiled at him and thought, “Wait until you see the lights next Christmas.”

Over the summer, while Paul was gone on long trips, Mary planned and practiced.