**Author's Note: Some of these notes about Irish fairies are from books and others are made up. Happy Holidays!


Glenna's mouth watered at the smell of gingerbread sashaying about the house along with the soft burble of Bing Crosby's "White Christmas". No one baked like Grandma Tilly. The old Irish Matriarch had a smile that could brighten the darkest winter. Hair a pale peach where it was once a fiery red and a twinkling laugh that was full of mischief Grandma Tilly was the glue that had the family flocking to Northern Ireland every Christmas. About 30 Irish cousins and American relatives gathered on the large horse breeding farm greeting the old Gaelic "Nollaig Shona Duit" and making the house and stable gay with holiday decorations.

Glenna was helping to hang the green garlands of holly and evergreen around the house while her parents fixed a string of tinsel around the robust Christmas tree. Snow was gently falling outside, blanketing the ground and gleaming in the moonlight a sugary icing on a holiday cake. Glenna was setting the traditional Candle in the Window to light it for the night when Grandma Tilly had asked her to take her freshly baked cake out to the barn. The plate was warm and the heavenly aroma of gingerbread and nutmeg made her lick her lips. Glenna never really understood why her grandparents would waste such a nice cake on some old made up spirit. The wild animals were going to get it anyway or even some of the stable hands.

She remembered when her grandparents would sit her by the fire with all of her cousins to tell her stories about little people causing trouble but sometimes helping them too. A fairy's nature could be unpredictable but they were relatively pleasant so long as they were treated with respect. Leaving food for fairies and sprites was in itself an old Irish custom. Mostly it was leaving a bowl of cream or a loaf of bread but the pooka, the flying horse fairy that liked to whisk people away on its back to parts unknown or even to their death, liked a special cake. A cake made of gingerbread, bits of fruit and topped with poppy seeds. Every Christmas Eve they would bake the special cake and leave it in the stable for him to eat. And in return the pooka made their horse farm successful.

Glenna wouldn't say her family was ultra-rich but she had gone to private school and was able to live comfortably. She loved horses and was working on her degree in Equestrian Studies to enter in the family business. But she was also realistic. She loved the magic and majesty of Christmas but that didn't mean she believed in the jolly Santa Claus or his helpful Elves or bargains with mischievous Horse Spirits. Her grandparents' doors and windows were topped with an upside down horse shoe inside so as to keep out the pooka in case he decided to play any games.

Still she did as her grandmother told her. At least the snow had stopped falling for now. Glenna braced the cold, her boots sinking into the deep snow with hushed crunches. The wind whistled past her ears, burning her cheeks with its harsh bite. She tried to bury her nose further into the woolen red scarf her aunt knitted for her. After this she would have a nose as red as the fictional Rudolph. Glenna found relief in the giant stable. She was hit with warmth but also the smell of fresh hay, horses and the light yet odorous stench of manure. Deciding to take her time, Glenna set the cake on a square stack of hay by the door and went to check on the horses. With her bare hands she warmed them to the velvety muzzles of the stallions and mares, all thoroughbreds ranging from warm chestnut brown to sleek satin black to sandy beige and snow white.

In the stable was a decorated Christmas Tree set up by the door next to an empty stall. White golden lights, deep crimson ribbons, silver platinum and golden baubles adorned the sturdy evergreen branches. The rafters were twined with garlands of evergreen and holly, a wreath hanging above each end of the stable. It was a rustic holiday home that Glenna found relaxing.

"Hello, Princess Fatima," Glenna went to the private stall of the family's new Arabian mare. She was one of 5 Arabian horses acquired by her family. Fatima was a dappled gray with gentle black eyes. Timid by nature, Fatima shied away when Glenna first walked in. But with patience and soothing whispers and a couple of sugar cubes, she managed to get the horse to come up to her and let her pet her nose.

"Such a beautiful lady," Glenna cooed. She stroked the graceful arch of the horse's neck, the hairs so fine they were like satin, feeling the powerful compact muscles flex beneath her loving palm. Glenna was content until the hairs on the back of her neck prickled with awareness. She wasn't alone. She turned around but only saw horses. She could swear she heard someone breathing close by. A warm moist air puffed at the tip of her frostbitten ear. Her whole body went rigid with alarm. Goosebumps raised the fragile hairs along her arms even under her woolen jacket.

But once again when she turned in a circle there was no one. Glenna's stomach turned slightly. She stood stock still waiting for something to happen. But after a few long minutes nothing happened and she relaxed. It was probably one of her cousins trying to be funny. She felt like an idiot. Like those kids who listened to Grandma Tilly's stories of fairies that snatched unsuspecting girls from lonely roads and groves to become their servants in the Otherworld. Ridiculous.

Glenna went to the entrance of the stable and saw that the cake was still there. She laughed dryly to herself. Her stomach grumbled and mouth watered again. The bouquet of spices and sweets was too much for her self control. She took a piece of cake, a piece covered in poppy seeds then popped it into her mouth. Her whole inside lit up like a Christmas Tree on Christmas morning. A pleasant heat radiated from the pit of her stomach as soon as it made it down. Not even the bitter winter cold could penetrate it.

It was lovely, braving the peppermint winter until she came to the house. That pleasant holiday heat smoldered into a lusty heat. It was embarrassing to be around her family while having these sensual feelings. Her pussy was so much on fire it was itchy. Her whole family was getting ready to go to 7pm Christmas Eve Mass but Glenna knew she wouldn't be able to survive 4 hours of worshipping the birth of Christ without riding the first dick she saw in the middle of the sermon.

The only way you could miss an Irish Mass in a Catholic Irish family was if you were close to death or even dead. Glenna managed her fever well enough, her skin was so hot it almost seared her grandmother's hand. Grateful for the respite, she dressed for bed while her relatives went out into the cold to go to Christmas Eve Mass. She was so horny her body was one giant ache. She pulled on her flannel shirt leaving off the pants and keeping her cotton panties. Her body shook with a cold sweat but she couldn't sleep naked in a house full of family members. She crawled into bed, tunneled underneath the covers and tried to go to sleep but after an hour of erotic heat pulsating through her system she gave up and shoved her hand down into her panties.

Maybe if she orgasmed enough times she'd fall asleep. She was 24 years old and had never been this horny before. As Glenna circled her slippery nub with rapid strokes of her fingers she couldn't shake this feeling of expectation; this sense that something was about to happen because she had eaten that cake. Her other hand pulled at her flannel shirt, the buttons twisting free allowing her to cup her her plump breast, feeling it pulse with life. Her breathing grew more labored as she flicked at her nipple and sunk two fingers into her hungry pussy. Her juices greased her palm and the inside of her thighs. Her inner muscles spasmed, clenching around her pumping digits in a velvet clasp. Her vision clouded as her heart hammered and breathing thinned. Suddenly stars burst in her eyes and her back arched off the bed. As she drifted off to sleep she could have sworn she heard a horse braying and the soft pulsing beat of wings. Then her world sunk into a dark oblivion.


A pair of masculine lips covered her mouth, forming to the lush contours of her lips. She knew it was a man by the scrape of stubble against her cheeks. A hard body pressed into her. Velvety skin branding her as it slid against her. Silken body hair caressing her tender erogenous zones. The kiss was smoldering. It was bone-tingling. When his tongue slipped against her lips Glenna opened them. Her toes curled at the sweep of his tongue in her mouth.

A dark taste of spicy nutmeg and sweet gingerbread hit her senses. She wanted to wrap her arms around him. Glenna moaned with the urgency as her arms came around nothing but shadows and air. That's when she woke up. Her body ached as if she had just run around the stable 10 times. She looked at the clock. Only an hour had passed. Her mouth felt so dry. She climbed out of bed and pulled on a pair of thick red and green woolen socks her great-aunt had made her.

Glenna went down stairs to make herself some tea. When she got to the kitchen she heard a knock at the door. Three firm consecutive knocks. The only neighbors were the McGowens and they lived 3 miles away. They would be at the Mass though with the rest of the county. Still Glenna went to the door, passing the lit Candle in the Window that shimmered luminously, reflected in the cold black of the window pane, beckoning with its small yet comforting light. She opened the door but no one was there. Just snow glinting in the moonlight and whispering winds.

She shrugged then went back inside. But no sooner did she take three steps from the threshold when she heard the three even knocks again. Glenna went back and opened the door stepping out onto the cold porch in her thick woolen socks. Again no one was there. Shadows danced in the moonlight, a frosty breeze whispered through the barren branches of trees. She felt a chill, not from the cold but from a preternatural awareness. Someone was watching her. It was like a touch almost giving her goosebumps up along her limbs as she rubbed them vigorously as if to rub away the feeling. Glenna quickly went back inside but once again she didn't get far before she heard three more even knocks.

The only weapon Glenna thought about was the iron horse shoe above the door. She took it down, keeping it raised she quickly opened the door to find no one on the porch but she did see a beautiful black horse standing in the snow on the front lawn. She stood frozen in awe. She knew horse flesh and this was a fine specimen. A coat of midnight gleaming blue in the silver moonlight, long powerful legs with a sleek yet muscular body and a long elegant mane resting upon the graceful arch of its neck. The horse lover in Glenna wanted to take a closer look. Wanted to ride it. It seemed to watch her with interest but in a flash it began to trot away, not even kicking up snow in its wake as if it were so swift it glided over the snowy crests like a night wind.

Glenna barely thought about her actions when she slipped on her cousin's big fur inlaid boots and then bounding off into the cold with only a flannel shirt and cotton panties and long woolen socks. She barely felt the cold as she followed the beautiful black stallion, its long black mane flowing behind it like a raven wing. The horseshoe warmed in her palm as she tightened her grip around it and ran towards the creature. It slipped into the stable as easily as if it were a shadow of the night.

The minute Glenna made it into the stable the animal had disappeared. Had she imagined it? After a few minutes of frantically searching she began to feel the chill on her bare thighs, the lukewarm iron horse shoe clutched in her hand. "Damn it!" she hissed.

"Fetching..."

The hair on Glenna's body all raised with goosebumps. The dark male purring voice sizzled through her blood but her nerves tingled with sudden anxiety. She turned around, her hand raised to hit the intruder with the horse shoe as she heard the male rasp, "You are a bit slim yet enticing. Shapely, round thighs with elegant calves... I wonder how lovely the rest of you is."

Even as he was talking Glenna had struck out to try and strike him with the heavy horse shoe. Instinct for survival took precedence over everything else. But the man's instincts were much sharper than hers. He caught the weapon, holding it firmly. It amused him, her attack, even as he felt the sting of the iron. Her eyes widened, her jaw locking as she heard the sizzling hiss of of tender flesh being seared as if by a hot iron. She finally took the time to look this stranger over.

The man was handsome; the sinfully handsome type that made a girl feel damned for looking at him and falling for his charm, but feeling it would be worth it. Lush lips curling into a predatory smirk of devilish enjoyment, high cheek bones and a long nose denoting nobility, a sharp jaw covered by a fine black stubble. A gleaming brow caressed by black curling locks. He was shirtless too with black pants with fine hair covering his well defined chest. Bronze skin that glowed in the magical caress of the Christmas Tree lights and gave the look of satin. That satin skin was stretched taut over lean sinew and fine muscle that wasn't bulky but natural and well defined. But then the weirdest thing was when he went to tuck his black curls behind his ears Glenna gasped to see they were pointy like an elf's.

Oh God was she dreaming? Or hallucinating? She did just run out of the house in to the freezing snowy cold in nothing but a big flannel shirt, underwear and boots. The man took the horse shoe from her now loose grip and tossed it away. He released her though he had a reluctant look in his dark eyes that were like black luminous orbs.

He then leaned casually against a beam entwined with fake evergreen garland and white Christmas lights, his eyes raking over every inch of her trembling form, penetrating the durable flannel to touch her very skin. He licked his lips in seductive invitation that made Glenna's thighs ache. She suddenly had naughty fantasies of that sinful tongue tasting her all over. He pushed off the beam then began to crowd her to an abandoned stall with haystacks and the stable Christmas Tree. With lazy grace he approached her, his injured hand healing as it cupped her cool cheek made rosy by the harsh winter air. His smell hit her, her dry mouth watering at the masculine musky aroma of horses and wild pine.

Every Catholic intuition of modesty engrained into the fiber of her being lashed out. She smacked his hand away trying to get away only to fall back against another decorated beam. The mystical stranger reached out again, taking hold of her arms and Glenna's nerves popped like champagne bubbles at the man's touch. His dark eyes blazed with dark hunger she felt a tingling in her core, a silkiness coating her thighs as her sopping panties clung to her pussy. Her nipples hardened and contracted at the smirk of the man's lips.

"You not only trespassed into my domain on a holy day but you also took something that was meant for me alone," his brogue softly rumbled in her ears making her bite her lip in sharp arousal. "How shall I punish you?" His question sounded so decadent and full of sexual promise that Glenna almost answered with something less than lady-like. One of his sleek agony brows lifted in challenge. "Nothing to say? And yet I know you have a voice like honey that can soothe a skittish mare like Princess Fatima."

Glenna inhaled sharply realizing that the presence that she had sensed earlier had been him. But how? The air around them crackled with electricity as he leaned forward then with his tongue traced over her lips.

"N-No," she placed her cool hands on his chest to try and push him away but her delicate fingers only tangled in the dark curls that carpeted his well defined pecs. The man's tongue flicked across her trembling lips. Her blood hummed, singing in her ears.

"You took something that was meant for me," he repeated in a low rasp. Glenna's lips slacked at the wet warmth and then the tongue drove into her gaping mouth, claiming every inch lazy exploration. He hummed his delight while Glenna groaned hers. Spicy sweet, dark and untamed. She felt like she was a mare waiting to be bred by a stud of a stallion. Anticipation curled in her core.

"Nutmeg, cinnamon...," he curled his tongue one last time inside her mouth. "And poppy seeds..." The man grinned then spun her around, pressing hard into her back to pin her against the decorated beam. He pushed her hair away, pulling down the flannel collar to reveal her nape and nuzzled his lips into her fragile hairline. She inhaled sharply at his tongue moving up in a silky glide from the base of her throat to nip at her earlobe. She licked her dry lips, her womb clenching at the dark sensuality sizzling from him into her. Her pussy throbbed with an urgent heat that drenched her already damp underwear. Her scruples were weakening but she grit her teeth, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted copper.

"How shall I punish you, lovely thief?" he whispered again. He wiggled his tongue inside her ear, a fission of pleasure twirled down Glenna's spine. She moved her ass back into the man's groin. He pressed the full length of his body against her, his heat branding her even through her flannel shirt. The ghostly whisper of his breath on her skin, the hot spicy scent of him, the hard smolder of his body against her all had a drugging sensation on her that left her melted like snow in spring. Her fingers curled into the beam as his hands explored her further.

"W-Who are you?" she asked, her body jerking as one hand caressed her pert breast, his thumb flicking at the turgid nipple that begged for attention. His other hand stroked along her flannel covered spine to slip beneath the flimsy material and caress her backside. Strong fingers with calculated precision slipped past the elastic of her ruined panties to find the soft tender part of her. He growled, "Your new master... my but don't you smell delectable." He was still pulling at her shirt, his teeth sunk into her bare shoulder, leaving a mark to show all that she belonged to him. "I can't wait to devour you... slowly... until you're hoarse with your screams of pleasure." He lapped at the row of teeth marks he made.

Glenna's breasts felt heavy. She arched her ass a little more to get her mysterious stranger to penetrate her deeper. She craved that deep penetration. But she asked him again, "Who are you?" If she was going to scream for him she was going to scream his name.

"My real name is my own," his murmur vibrated against her skin, the domination in his tone made Glenna's blood turn to boiling chocolate. "But you may call me Dagan for tonight." His fingers stroked along her drizzling slit, circling around her swollen clit. "And you are...?"

He pushed the tip of his finger into her silken entrance, his other hand on her breast tweaking her nipple getting it throbbing with sensation. Glenna tasted her own blood as her mouth slacked open in a soundless moan. Her Catholic and modern morals were losing the battle over her will to resist. The fingers promised unmeasurable pleasure. Suddenly the finger surged forward up to the knuckle buried in the swollen sex.

"Glenna...," she squeaked, pushing into his hand only to groan in dismay at him pulling back his finger. He continued to torment and tease her with only giving her a little of him then retreating that had her groaning in unfulfilled pleasure. Her insides quivered and seethed to an unbearable pitch that was close to physical agony.
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Pub: Dec 25 2020 13:12 UTC
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