Summary Your office holiday party was already a disaster...lukewarm wine, limp canapés, and that HR email you regret sending. But things take a hard left into full-blown fantasy when he shows up. Not a stripper. Not a hallucination. Just a jacked, cocky, candy-cane-flavoured Elf with a list of your sins and a very particular punishment plan. He’s loud. He’s mean. He smells like cranberry lube and vengeance. And before you know it, you’re choking on his cock under the flicker of fairy lights, bent over the photocopier getting wrecked, and cleaning him off like a good little office slut. This isn’t Santa’s workshop. This is his hit list. And you? You’ve just been marked for twelve days of festive destruction. Happy fucking holidays. You didn’t believe in Christmas magic ... but you’re definitely going to feel it in the morning.