Christmas, Bloody Christmas

that I would have to wait until after breakfast.
My pout had earned me a glare, and I’d shuffled off to the kitchen. I hadn’t expected to receive a lot of gifts from him. Not that he didn’t give me presents, he tried to make occasions special for me. In his own way he showed me he cared—that he valued that I belonged to him.
I finished making the food and plated everything, I carried them to the small table that was already set. I jumped as he came up behind me, and then moved to the side to set two coffee mugs and the pitcher of juice. He pulled out my chair and I sat down. I waited while he filled my glass.
“Eat.”
I ate my food and enjoyed every bite, but I knew he only consumed what I made him because it sustained his body. He considered his body’s requirements an inconvenience. Something he did only when we shared meals or I reminded him he needed to. I loved his lean frame and its surprising strength. His thinness was just natural for him, so I didn’t worry as much as I had in the past.
“How annoyed are you right now?” I asked as I lifted my glass and took a sip.
“Immensely, and glad this is only a once a year requirement.”
“It’s not that bad, just because you can’t kill anyone.”
“That’s not true.” His voice was solemn as he arched a brow as he glared at me.
I dropped my chin to my chest and concealed my smile. “It’s only been three days.” I was enjoying the break from washing him of blood and grime or burning his clothes. He’d buried his last job the day before, after the furnace had done all it could do.
“I’ve delayed contracts in order to be here.”
My assassin was cranky that he hadn’t tortured anyone in days, but I knew his kills calmed and grounded him when his mind was too chaotic.
“I know and I appreciate you subjecting yourself to the torture of making your boy happy.” I playfully pouted and his disgusted expression intensified.
“I make you happy every day,” he announced as he pushed his empty plate away and moved his coffee mug in front of him. “You love being my boy and whore; you’ve admitted it. Don’t pretend that you wouldn’t get on your knees and suck my cock at just the crook of my finger no matter where we were.”
My face heated as I finished my food and juice, then picked up my coffee. I was helpless to deny him. I loved the days of being chained to the floor of our bedroom, made to suck him off and forbidden to find my own release. I savored every touch, lash, and kiss. I sometimes lived for the pain. I hadn’t anticipated how addicted I would become when I’d awakened in the basement and he announced he could do whatever he wanted to me.
“Would you like to open your presents?”
“Yes, please.”
“Clean up and we can go into the living room.”
I hid my pout and cleaned the kitchen in record time, even dried and put all the dishes and pans away. I danced on the other side of the island as he stood. He wasn’t moving fast enough. He nodded and I ran to the front of the house, kneeling on the floor and sitting back on my heels to wait. I listened to him making another cup of coffee and groaned. I composed myself before he appeared.
I frowned as he stopped by the tree and he reached into the limbs. A box appeared and he turned. He didn’t say a word as he lowered himself to the couch, setting his mug on the end table.
Sir nodded and I separated all the presents, his pile two times smaller than mine and I felt bad.
“Open them,” he ordered, but I was curious about that one box. He still held it in his left hand and tapped it on his thigh.
I smiled as I received paddles and a new cock cage, a few items of clothing, and the best present were tickets for a vacation.
“Working?” I waved the tickets.
“Yes, but it’s a quick job. A single shot between the eyes with a sniper rifle, an hour or two at the most. No torture or information gathering needed. That’s the first night, the other two weeks are for you, and I’ll even let you plan what you want to do.”
“Won’t complain?”
“I never complain, boy. I’ll go anywhere, but I won’t promise to enjoy myself.”
I moved to my hands and knees, crawled across the floor. I met his gaze as he slid the coffee table out of the way and widened his stance so that I could sit between his thighs.
“May I thank you, Sir?”
His only answer was to pull his silk pajama bottoms out and down to tuck them beneath his heavy balls.
I sat back on my heels and draped my arms over his thighs. I licked up the underside of his cock, gently kissed the fat head, sucked at the loose foreskin. I opened wide as he lifted the heavy length.
“Sir’s little cocksucker. Mine, boy.”
As soon as he growled mine, I sucked him to the back of my throat. I didn’t censor my noises or try to hold back. I fucked my mouth with his cock. His fingers tangled in the back of my hair, and I shivered at the sting on my scalp. My cock hardened where it rested on my thighs, but I didn’t want to get off.
It pleased me to take care of him. Without warning he pushed my head down, and I felt his release hit the back of my throat. I sucked greedily until he jerked my head up. He released my hair and I rested my head on his thigh, staring up at him. He was breathing roughly and sweat misted his fair skin. I took in all the scars and sections where flesh was missing.
Then my world shattered as he flicked