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Elf Yourself

By Landon Dixon, John McKeown, Bethany Goring, D. K. Jernigan and JL Smith

Elf Yourself
EPUB, 66 pages ebook Online Price:
£1.99
ISBN: 9781909335967
Imprint: Xcite Books
Published: 22nd November 2012

Category: Anthology / Bundle, Contemporary, Holidays / Seasonal

Rating: 0 vote(s).



An Xcite Books collection of five festive stories with mixed themes including m/f, m/m, group, fantasy, light BDSM/spanking, ghost, pastiche, party, gangster and humour.

Elf Yourself by Landon Dixon

There’s a new Santa in town. Earnest Elf discovers that it’s hard times at the North Pole as economic recession and elf over-reproduction lead to lay-offs, discontent, malcontents and a full-on elf insurrection. Earnest himself has a thriving meat and blubber business, a hydroponic oathouse on the side, and his own gripe against the red-suited fat man so he’s neutral, cool to both sides. Then Evelyn Elf pays his frosty abode a visit, and her tale of Snowtopia woe melts more than his heart …

Christmas Keeps Coming by John McKeown

It’s not shaping up to be much of a Christmas for New York shopping mall Santa Jerry. He’s being blackmailed by horny Mob wife and Santa Claus fetishist Nuala. But while the proud, hard-working Italian-American is enjoying the kind of payments she keeps on extracting, he knows he’s in serious danger. If Nuala’s feared mobster husband finds out what’s going on, Jerry could soon be sleeping with the fishes.

Santa’s Knee by Bethany Goring

Deputy headmistress Angela is on duty at Santa’s Grotto in her school. Sensing that she’s lacking in seasonal goodwill – and “hasn’t had any” in way too long, the big man in red takes a hands-on approach to teaching the teacher a stern and painful lesson. He won’t stop until her bottom is glowing like an open fire and he’s made her believe in the spirit of Christmas – for the most intriguing of reasons…

Mistletoed by DK Jernigan

As the owner of a small business, Marcus sees no escape from the multi-office Christmas party, despite his ingrained dislike of the entire holiday season. What he doesn't expect is for his frigid mood to be warmed considerably by the charming Rob, who he encounters at the party – and who happens to own one of the other businesses in the building. Sparks fly under the mistletoe, and perhaps Marcus will be able to skip out of that party early, anyway …

A Christmas for Carol by J Smith

It’s been three months with no boyfriend and no sex, and when Christmas Eve arrives, Carol’s spending it alone with eggnog, an X-rated DVD and her vibrator. When she resolves to live a celibate life from now on, three ghosts of Christmas appear and try to put the willies up her in an effort to get her to change her ways. They show her sex in her past, present and future, but can they get her to change before Christmas Day?

These stories also appear in Santa’s Hot Secrets

Angela Crawford sighed as she piled biscuits onto the plate. The school’s Christmas fête was by far one of her most hated times of the year – as the deputy head of the school, she couldn’t get out of helping out, but children hyped up on too much sugar and parents who expected you to know every single one of them even if you’d never met them before weren’t her cup of tea.

She always volunteered to help police the Santa’s Grotto; it was constantly busy and lessened the time she had to spend with others. It also meant she’d be in charge of taking wanders to the staff room every so often to get Santa more water, sandwiches and biscuits. But now it was Santa’s lunch break, and she was going to have to take this plate in to him then spend the next half-hour mingling. She’d rather spend the time hiding in the toilet.

She popped a digestive into her mouth before turning towards the door, finding herself all too soon in front of Santa’s Grotto, despite the fact she’d walked as slowly as she possibly could.

‘Right, kids, Santa needs his lunch – the grotto will be closed for half an hour,’ she called as she wound her way through the crowd of children gathered outside it, despite the “Closed” sign hanging on the door. A collective groan came from them but slowly they dispersed and she was able to wriggle through them and knock on the door.

‘Santa, it’s Miss Crawford – I’ve brought your lunch,’ she called through before opening and entering.

The man in the chair this year was fairly wide-set. He hadn’t asked for any extra padding to fill out the suit but he was solid rather than fat. In all honesty, having to call him Santa all morning meant she had entirely forgotten his name, and had no idea which of the children’s fathers had been stupid enough to volunteer for it this year.

‘I’ll lock the door so you can take the beard off,’ she said, closing it and snapping on the deadbolt.

The man smiled at her, or at least there was a movement behind his beard that caused his eyes to get smaller – so she presumed he had smiled. He gave off a happy vibe which somehow managed to soothe her on this, her most hated of days, so it made sense to think he’d smiled.

‘Where will I sit these?’ she asked him, looking around.

“Santa’s Grotto” was the school photocopy room, the shelves on each of its walls thinly disguised with tacked-up, sparkly fabric. The photocopier had been stowed elsewhere, leaving a space in the middle just about big enough for the large throne upon which Santa sat. Santa nodded to his left but said nothing. The sack of presents was in front of his feet on that side so she moved to his right and leaned over to place the plate down. She couldn’t help but wonder, was this a ploy for him to check out her backside in her jeans? Not that she was entirely against the idea. She hadn’t had any in a while.

This thought coincided with the moment she placed the plate down – which was also the same moment she felt a firm hand shove her in the back, so she half-fell, face down, over Santa’s red suit trousers. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened as she felt him wrap both hands round her and move her so that her backside in her tight jeans was raised over his lap and her upper body was pushed forward and angled further towards the floor.

He seemed to pause. She could have said something at this point, or cried out or struggled. Instead, she stayed stock still. She felt oddly unafraid, sure on some deep level that she could trust this man. And, for the first time in a while, Miss Angela Crawford, Deputy Head of London’s finest primary school, was lost for words.

Her silence didn’t last for much longer, however, as a series of sharp smacks landed on her upturned rear.

‘What the …? What do you think you’re – ow! – doing?’ she gasped, her questions punctuated by loud, sharp cracks as his palm struck the tightly stretched denim.

‘Miss Crawford, I am spanking you, as you deserve,’ he answered, seemingly unperturbed by the strangeness of the situation and his own answer, as he continued his methodical smacking.

It was the first time she had heard him speak and his lascivious voice sent a shot through her lower belly and into her groin. Well, either his voice or the word “spanking” – she wasn’t entirely sure which.

‘Why – ow! – would I – ouch! – deserve this?’ she questioned, wriggling from his hand.

Bethany Goring

Bethany Goring is in her early 20's and currently lives in London, where she spends her time shopping for shoes and exploring cocktail bars to concentrate on the degree she's currently supposed to be studying for. When she's not skipping lectures and shopping she spends time at her family home in Scotland with her dogs, who just pip the shoes to the post for number one spot of her loves in life and trying to motivate herself to get her running shoes acquainted with the great outdoors - usually only achieved if there's the promise of a great dinner somewhere exciting as a reward for her efforts.

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