There’s nothing like home invasion phone sex for the holidays! I like Christmas just as much as the next brainwashed consumer, but do you really think I’m going to spend all of my time and money decorating and and doing my place up for the season? Of course I’m not but I don’t want to deny myself cheer and merriment and all of that bullshit. That’s why, every December, I find a fun little family to hold hostage and use to create the Christmas that I’ve always wanted, the Christmas I never had.
It’s never hard to get into a place, I just use my door to door hunting tactic. I go from house to house early in the month under the guise of giving out free advent calendars to families in the area. I don’t mess with the ones who simply take the calendars graciously and send me on my way. Their reward for being both nice and cautious is their lives, though they’ll probably never realize that they had won anything other than a festive box full of chocolates. The first bunch of suckers to ask me if I’d like to come in out of the cold and drink hot cocoa with them, they’re my mark. Nice, maybe, but not very smart. Not very smart, at all.
When you go into an unfamiliar dwelling and the inhabitants are right in front of you, you have to be very inconspicuous with how you case the place. I’m always sure that everyone in the family is present before I let myself loose, I don’t want any surprise brothers or sisters popping up mere hours into my plan and ruining everything. A quick glance at the family photos hanging on the walls does it. Once everyone has gathered and we’re enjoying one another’s company over hot cups of chocolatey goodness, I let them all know that I have more to give them than advent calendars. Indeed, I have some really bad things in store for them for the holidays.
Mom and Dad will always react in one of two ways when I tell them I’m there to make sure their Christmas is hell, scoff or laugh. Both responses are met with a ball peen hammer to the hand so they know I’m serious. Everyone will scream, some of them will try to run. To get quick control, I wrap Dad up in a choke hold, whip out my straight razor and tell everyone I’ll slit his throat if they move one more muscle or let out the tiniest of peeps. Show the family that Dad is powerless against you and they’re all yours.
I have the offspring bind their parents, without variation. I force the boy or boys to perform fellatio on their father and jack off all over their mother’s face while the girl or girls and I watch. For days, the parents, bound the entire time, get violated and penetrated by their sons while the daughters and I watch. After a week or so, through our many talks and shared observations, the girls start to understand my reasoning behind creating the ultimate suffering in their parents. Stockholm syndrome at its finest. A couple of weeks into the holiday hostage situation and they’re barking out orders and torturing their parents just like I would. Even give their brothers some heavy handed treatment without any suggestion on my part. It’s kind of crazy how it always works out in the same manner, as though I’ve tapped into some psychological nerve of fucked up families that lets me play them all like puppets. That’s the best Christmas present I could ever get.
Of course I have to off the whole clan when I’m done. I like to do it by the new year, start the next one out fresh, but sometimes I have a little too much fun with my holiday families and stick around well into January. The sister I befriended this year is crazy as hell, she’s going to kill her mom before Christmas even gets here if I don’t cool her out a little. I guess worse things could happen, but I want her to be around to get her big present… watching her very own dear little ones tear their father to pieces as he screams and cries and begs for mercy.
I had been wondering what to get you for your birthday, your tastes are so specific… then you told me about your best friend’s daughter dying and I knew just what you wanted. You told me that you always wanted to fuck her and she had died in the prime of her youth, what a waste of perfectly good pussy I thought. There I was on the phone making arrangements with the funeral director for a private viewing, I told him it would be a special moment before she was seen by her family for the last time. I told you that we were going on a romantic date, we entered the funeral parlor and you finally saw all my hard work.
