A Chyoo Christmas Carol

Morals were dead. Chyooge had no doubt whatsoever about that.

The world was obsessed with sex, to the detriment of all else. He had no interest in it at all - or so he had convinced himself. He had long since repressed all his carnal craving and desires in order to give himself more time to devote to a thing he had a lot more passion for - making money. His old business partner Snarley had taught him these values, and although Snarley was now long dead, Chyooge upheld them firmly.

On this bitterly cold Christmas eve, in the office of his business, his clerk Miss Bobbi Crotchwet was reminding him forcibly that he was rather alone in his lack of interest.

"Oh, I can't wait to get finished, sir. I'm going to go out and snare some handsome young thing for me and the missus to screw senseless 'til boxing day. Pick up some burly dock worker to pound our pusses til we can't walk, or maybe some naive young gent from the clerical collage to tie up and... educate."

Chyooge sighed and looked up at her. She was a very pale woman, somewhere in her early thirties, with a cloud of dishevelled black hair and large, intense eyes that shone out at the world from within dark pits of Kohl and mascara. Her full plump lips seemed locked in a permanent saucy pout, and despite her thin frame, she bore substantial bosoms, which bulged out from the top of her lacy black corset.

Yes, she seemed to be pretty much the epitome of the worlds sorry sexual obsessions. She showed little devotion to her duties at the office, choosing instead to spend her time dreaming about the sexual perversions her and her girlfriend could get up to of the evening.

"Do you not feel, Miss Crotchwet, that there are more.. productive ways to use your energies?"

"Oh, Mister Chyooge," she husked, leaning forward over Chyooges desk and presenting a display of milky white cleavage that would have brought a lesser man to his knees, "I could show you some pretty astounding uses for my.. energies if only you'd let me."

She reached out and stroked his cheek with a hand wrapped in a fingerless lacy glove.

"Just think of it sir, you could spend all of the holiday lashed to my little bed, with me and the missus and little Tiny Tina taking turns at you... surely even a cold fish like yerself can't turn such an offer down?"

Chyooge coughed, wriggled uncomfortably in his seat and brushed her hand away sharply.

"Indeed I could, Miss Crotchwet. In fact, I believe I shall be opening the office tomorrow, so your services shall be required here. No Christmas shenanigans for you."

"But sir! It's Christmas day!"

Chyooge got to his feet and marched to the door, ignoring the pouting temptress and adjusting his trousers, and prepared to march huffily out into the gathering night.