Kris Kringle sat in his big, over-stuffed recliner, pondering over the magically long list of wishes he had received this Christmas. Taking a sip of his 'eggnog', he nearly spat it out as he noticed a bizarre request from a consistently, impressively Good Boy. Sighing to himself, Santa Claus realized he couldn't duck this request, considering just how many orphans this guy saved from the Barbadian sugar plantations. Reluctantly, Santa's big, calloused hand hovered over a large, ominous rotary phone, an aged antique, perfectly preserved. Finishing off the last dregs of eye-watering 'eggnog', Santa picked up the old candlestick-style phone, and was instantly connected to the other line, the large rotary plate unnecessary. A familiar, accented female voice bleated back at him from the other line "Ja, Sinterklaas? Vee are fery busy punishink zee naughty teenagers. Mien season starts December fifth, Ja? Busy busy." the voice declared, dismissively. Santa simultaneously suppressed a surge of rage and revulsion, as he knew full-well what debauched methods Krampus used to discipline the season's naughtiest. "Look, let me cut to the chase, Kramps. I got another 'special request' like that one time a few centuries back. A very Good boy requested you specifically come over, and treat him like a very Naughty one. You dig me?" Santa said, as the phone was overcome with the distorted sounds of muffled yelling and wet squelching noises. After a minute of ominous commotion, the accented, feminine voice of Krampus returned, sounding flushed and out of breath "Busy, busy... Ich tolden sie! Nefer call me 'Kramps!'" the holiday-demon responded to Santa, before her sultry voice continued, falling to a low purr "But tellen mich more about zis 'Naughty-Good boy'..." . Santa sighed, and began working out the details.
Peter Bernhardt had campaigned relentlessly against the British exploitation of Ireland, decrying as thousands were shipped off the to newly burgeoning colonies to toil to death, refining sugar in mortally unsafe conditions. But as the decades crawled by, the relentless advocate had found little time for establishing a personal life for himself. Loneliness crept into the years as he continued his diligent, isolated existence, but it seemed nothing he did could meaningfully sway public opinion against the evil exploitation being carried on across the seas. Peter began to blame himself for his shortcomings, taking every scattered report of abuse from the far-flung colonies as somehow a personal failing of his, as a strange sense of anxiety ruined his appetite, and hounded him during sleepless nights. The nervous man felt stained by the corrupting guilt of his predatory society, an intense, wordless need to be punished filling the emptiness of his heart. As another lonely Christmas morning loomed, Peter dreaded waking up to another lonely holiday morning. A gnawing since of nihilistic anguish consumed his thoughtful soul. Little did the small man know, however, that his life was about to be dramatically changed by the magical patrons of the winter months.
Bernhardt awoke, a sore ache in his back, as he numbly got up to his cold, meager house. His once impressive wealth had been focused on philanthropy work, and he lived in meager conditions. Shuffling into tattered slippers, he made his way downstairs to set the kettle boiling. As he stared at his earnestly decorated, limp tree, with no gifts under its scrawny boughs, a strange jangling sound filled the air. It was the harsh, rattling noise of shaking chains, a foreboding dirge that set his teeth on edge. It was followed by a loud stomping noise, which rapidly approached his front door. Peter gasped in shock, as his front door flung open under the impact of a huge hoofed foot, as a black-furred caprine demon confidently strode into his homely living room, it's oblong eyes settling on him with a fierce, dismissive look as the she-goat's nostrils flared. Peter barely had time to register this intruder's strange appearance, her long horns, lengthy lolling tongue, chained arms, and flickering thin tail, before she was on him. Charging across the room, shrieking in a heavy accent, the demonic apparition said "Ist das sie naughty boy? Ist das miene liebe?" as she shoved him against the hard kitchen counters. Peter sprawled to the floor, completely overwhelmed by the inexplicable situation, as the goat demon produced a bundle of thin birch branches from a huge basket strapped to her muscular back, and began rapidly swatting his face and chest with it.
Peter raised his trembling hands defensively, as the sinuous branches whipped across his hands and face wildly. The horned, black-furred woman was cackling wildly and screaming in some old, Germanic language as she wantonly assaulted him with the faggot. Her chained arms jangled wildly as she continued swatting him until she was breathlessly panting, her huge furred bosoms heaving with breath. Without another word, the giant, enigmatic woman reached forward, and effortlessly plucked him up, snatching him into the wide basket strapped to her back. The she-goat than sprinted off, Peter crouching meekly down into the wicker basket as he bounced against his captor's furry back with every galloping stride of her cloven feet, her musky, sweaty animal scent filling his nose as he wondered what in God's name was befalling him as he was rapidly abducted out of the bustling city, into the neighboring woods. Peter scanned the foliage as it grew denser and more ominous, seemingly alien to the small copses of trees that surrounded the area, as the demonic kidnapper magically transported him away to her hidden realm. The anxious philanthropist nervously clutched his knocking knees, as the sprinting beast-woman approached a huge, ominous mansion, artfully constructed out of the blackest ebony wood. He was so enamored by the sight, he forgot to duck as the goat clambered in through the relatively narrow door-way, and he slammed his forehead hard into the hard-wood entryway, slinking unconscious to the depths of Krampus's abduction basket.
Bernhardt awoke, stripped naked, and strapped to a huge wooden chair by secure, leather restraints. The foul-smelling, dank chamber was bedecked in all manner of exotic, intimidating devices, all seemingly designed to inflict torturous pain or discomfort. Peter gulped nervously, as his eyes settled on his towering, muscular, black-furred female captor sitting on an opulent, barbed throne. She regarded him with a far calmer demeanor, her oblong caprine pupils unreadable, until her wide mouth twisted into a wicked smile, exposing long, fearsome fangs, and an incredibly long, pointed, red tongue. The demon's long tongue played over her fangs and muzzle for a moment, before creeping down her chin, towards her black-furred chest. Peter's hysteric eyes followed the wriggling, dexterous, saliva-dripping organ as it wormed down to the goat-demon's busty chest, and cinched around a large, dark nipple, leaving the stiffened tit-tip glistening with viscous saliva as the tongue slowly retreated back into her mouth. Her sultry, deep, accented voice rang out in the ominous dungeon confines "Zuch a Naughty boy! Lookink lewdly towards miene nipples? Ist zee naughty boy's mind shpinnink vith die perverse desires?" she finished, teasingly, as she got up and slowly approached him.
Peter realized the big demon creature was completely nude under her thick, black fur, the room filling with her feminine musk as she split her muscular legs to powerfully kick the back of his chair. Her cloven hoof landed inches from his head, the impact sending reverberations through the hard wood chair, as the restrained man fell with the chair to the ground, forced to stare up as the ominous she-demon squatted over him, exposing her full female glory as her musky eagerness dripped down on his face. An intense erection sprouted from his crotch, as the dominating female squatted over the fallen chair, and stared at his expanding groin. "Tsk tsk, ist miene naughty liebe already shprung? Du kenne miene namen? I am zee Krampus oft zee Christmas legends." Krampus declared authoritatively as she closed the distanced to Peter's face with her rump, and knelt down forcefully. Her spongy, musky, wet feminine folds dragged over Peter's features, as the randy goat-demon began excitedly humping her furry crotch-lips over her defenseless partner's face. Reaching a clawed, chained hand forward, Krampus took firm grip of the base of his engorged penis. As she held the phallus up, her long, red tongue sought it out, guiding the delicate skin past her ferocious teeth, into the eagerly awaiting oral interior. Peter's muffled groans of pleasure rang out from under her stifling pussy, as she rested down on him while taking his length deeper in her mouth. Krampus had an unnaturally skilled mouth, that milked Peter's penis with undulating tenderness, the demon's viscous saliva clinging to the hot flesh of his manhood. His orgasm was sudden and mighty, a pent-up blast of seed erupting into the she-goat's predatory mouth. Her expert tongue prevented even a drop of the delicious male essence to escape, as she tenderly withdrew her leaning head from Peter's crotch.
Krampus cooed down lovingly to Peter, once her mouth was unobstructed, huskily commanding down in her strange intonation "Miene katze ist wunderbar, Ja? Du warst such a naughty boy zis season miene pimmelman, Ich will... Ich will.. Uff, miene liebling, zis charade ist tiresomen." Krampus said, the mood in the dungeon suddenly changing as she clambered off his face with a wet squelch. Krampus continued "Miene Peter, du bist not a naughty boy, du bist a wunderbar, Good mann. Ich vant du, Peter. Vill du maken Krampus deiner hausfrau?" the black-furred demoness cooed down to him, as she hastily righted his chair. Peter didn't know how to respond, as she slowly undid his restraints, freeing him. The huge, muscular horned woman layed down on the cold dungeon floor, spreading her shaggy saytr legs, as she beckoned Peter over. "Ich liebe Dieb Peter..." murmured Krampus, as he realized he was ready for a second round of this illicit love-making.