Copyright
© 2008-2009 Stella and Audra Price, All Rights Reserved

The witch was hot, he had to hand it to her. Of course, Sammael hadn’t come into the house knowing that he’d fuck her, but now it was a distinct possibility. He’d felt her pain lace through the air as Karsten told her about his mate. The poor thing hurt so much that he could taste it on the air. He didn’t reckon it would be sinful to console her, to give her body what it had thought it would get from the Unicorn. Consoling her here on the table wouldn’t be very sinful either, just would prove good planning. If anything, it was the Unicorn’s fault for hurting the poor lamb’s feelings.

The trick would be to get her to consent. Karsten had mentioned she might have an aversion to his nature, although he’d sensed none. Most likely, she was one of those types who always proclaimed themselves pure but deep down just never had the courage to try it nasty. Not that he could force her because he knew she’d enjoy it eventually. He knew how far he could push the game. His mind was constantly on that fence, at least until he could find something that would please Lucifer enough to not want him next to Belial screaming for eternity.

He waited until Karsten was in his room for the night before turning and smiling at Bianca, who had her back to him. The unsettling thing was the Angels’ tears she had. Why anyone would keep such an unsettling item in the house was beyond him. But for a witch, he supposed, it wasn’t all that unusual as Angels’ tears were very rare. It was the opal as well that interested him. Why would she keep one so large? On the table alone was enough to kill most of the Fallen in Hell, or at least seriously mess their day up.

He hadn’t been entirely honest about the true strength of the tears, one doesn’t exactly go about giving people all the ingredients to kill them. The blade would kill Nybras, but not him. The vial of tears would destroy him instantly. It was odd for an immortal that close to true death. It was very surreal to, after so long, come across something so small that would end everything. It wasn’t a very good feeling.
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Secret Santa: Naughty or Nice? Seasonal Wishes Series

© 2008 Selena Illyria, All Rights Reserved

I/R, Contemporary, BDSM elements.

Some material found in this story my considered objectionable to some readers. Adult Content, Adult Language and Light Bondage. The author acknowledges that all copyrights belong to their rightful owners.

Author Note: I am aware that in the beginning of this story I do say that Pepperton is an all girls academy and boys are included in one class, all will be explained in the next story. Please, be patient and understanding.

Prologue

Every year at Pepperton All Girls Academy a tradition was performed. Although the Headmaster called it a joyous occasion, the staff called it Russian Roulette with a Santa’s Hat. Every year, the staff members picked a name out of the hat to take part in the Annual Secret Santa tradition. There was a better chance of picking an enemy’s name rather than a friend’s, and for some odd reason, everyone was saddled with giving the Headmaster a gift as well. When the beginning of December rolled around, everyone tried their best to be either out sick that day or too busy to attend the staff meeting during lunch time. But even those too sick or too busy always got a name whether they wanted it or not.

And then things changed. At the beginning of the school year, not only was the school saddled with a new Headmistress, but a few new staff members as well. It was like a science experiment gone horribly wrong. The Headmaster had not been dismissed; due to his long years in service the board felt he should stay on until the new Headmistress had the hang of things, which would be, as the board determined, at least two years. The Headmaster would take a pay cut, but still be employed. Although silently fuming, he was still happy to have a job. The entire staff watched the two like hawks, waiting for the Headmaster to blow a gasket or Headmistress Jessie McClean to go supernova on him. The two were civil but it was clear they did not like each other. There were bets going that they would be battling it out by the end of the year, and the pool was up to at least $1,000. People had even hoped that the Headmaster would forget the Secret Santa tradition, but alas no such luck. The highlight of the name drawing ceremony was that Jessie McClean would be there, and that made the meeting a must attend for everyone. The faculty watched the new Headmaster and Mistress through out the whole ceremony.

Jessie was a picture of dignity and refinement. Dressed in a cream colored silk blouse with a red silk jacket and matching pencil skirt hugged her ample curves, her legs were encased in shiny knee high black stiletto boots, her long black hair pulled back in a pony tail. Her dark brown eyes lined lightly in black, her full lips a deep berry stain, pearl jewelry and accents finished off her look of class and dignity. Mason Joseph looked like he was smiling as if his life depended on it, in a simple black suit jacket and pants with black oxfords and a black silk shirt. His black hair was liberally sprinkled with gray, giving him a salt and pepper look, his gray eyes taking in the number of staff entering the staff break room, continuing to smile like a loon.

But their story is not why we are here. Let’s look around the room, ah, I see our heroine of this story in the corner of the room, let’s look in on her shall we?

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Marteeka Karland has generously contributed a sexy story that takes readers beyond the chair… 

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By:  Marteeka Karland

(c) 2007 Marteeka Karland, All Rights Reserved

            Spartans are trained to fear nothing. But this was beyond anything the warrior had ever been prepared for. Perhaps that last spirited drink hadn’t been a good idea.

The warrior, Arqus, looked around him. The noise was deafening, the smells sweaty and strong with liquor, and the people crushed in on him horribly. He’d never seen the like. They thrashed their bodies around and against each other in what he could only describe as controlled chaos.

It reminded him of sparing with his fellow warriors. They whirled and twirled and clashed against each other with force and grace till it was hard to tell if they fought… or danced.

They dressed funny. All in black from head to toe. Pale skin. Black kohl around their eyes, even coloring their lips and fingernails. Men and women alike. All fighting and dancing together, the females just as fiercely as the males. In some cases, they were even more aggressive.

The warrior smiled. This place was foreign to him, and many things were very strange, but it was more like his home than first met the eye. He was Spartan. He would adapt to his situation and conquer whomever he must to return home.

One particularly strange looking woman only a few steps away caught his eye. Dressed in the shortest skirt he’d ever seen of some shiny black material with the same type of material covering her breasts, her creamy skin beckoned to him. She was dressed so a man could undress her as he desired.

At least, that was his opinion until she punched a thin man in the jaw before kicking him in the privates. He doubled over in pain and the warrior couldn’t help wincing for the man.

“Just because I agreed to dance with you doesn’t mean I agreed to fuck you.” She had to yell to be heard above all the noise. When she whirled around, she slammed straight in to him. Her face smacked into his chest and she stumbled back. The warrior grabbed her arms to steady her. Slowly, she raised her head, her eyes growing larger by the second. “Oh. My. God.“

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