Naughty or Nice?

The rustling of him coming down is what wakes her, but she doesn't realize it until she feels his presence in the room. She'd fallen asleep on the couch in front of the fireplace looking at the crinkling red and orange colors bouncing around. The fire has long gone out and the living room is now cast in darkness.
She hears his heavy footsteps moving around the room. There's a sound of purpose to them, like he knows exactly what to do and where to go to get it done. His steps come to a halt by what she imagines is the fireplace, or at least close to it. She can almost feel the touch of him inspecting her with his eyes, trying to figure out what's laying here in the dark. He puts something slowly down on the floor with a quiet thump before moving closer towards her until he's standing in front of the couch. His breathing is even and calm as he stand to look at her. Even though the room is bathed in darkness, she knows he can see her. She can feel his eyes roaming over her body's outline under the blanket. Taking in her curves. Her own eyes are still closed, she doesn't have the courage to open them, not yet at least. She's not supposed to be awake while he's here.
Goosebumps form wherever she feels his gaze and sends a shiver through her. Her sudden movement makes him hold his breath. Like he doesn't want her to wake up. Wake up and find him here. Here looking at her. Which makes sense, but somehow there also seems to be something else behind it. Something other than coming to bring the morning joy and not wanting to be disrupted in the process. Something that some strange tinkle in her mind makes her think the darkness isn't only in the room.

The thought is pushed away as she hears him slowly take a step back, then another. The rustling of something she can't quite make out seems to be coming from afar. Maybe what he had put down by the fireplace before? It takes some time. It sounds like he's taking items in and out of something. Something lighter, something heavier. Smaller things. A few larger. Maybe. Something that crinkles for sure. She's not completely sure what it is only having her ears and imagination to guide her. Her eyes remain shut, as they should be, but her intrigue and curiosity of what's going on and what's to come are wide open. Perhaps he's finishing going about his preparations for the joyful morning tomorrow and will be on his way soon. The thought is a little disappointing for some reason, but before she can really finish it, she hears him once again moving slowly towards her on the couch. His boots moving across the floor.
She holds her breath for a beat. Waiting. Waiting for some reason she doesn't really know what is. She's not sure why, but the thought excites her a little. She knows it shouldn't, but somehow a thrill is buzzing in her head. It's exciting and intriguing to have him here so close when the knowledge of him being there is usually so far away. She lays as still as she can when she feels him standing in front of the couch again. She feels his hand coming closer to her face and the uncertainty of what he's doing mixes with the anticipation. A weird rush runs through her body and for some reason she can't explain lands between her legs. He brushes her cheek sweetly and tugs the loose hair behind her ear. She thinks she hears his appreciative hum and a faint "Nice," whispered before he moves his hand down her face and neck to her shoulder where he runs his hand over her exposed skin only covered by the thin strap of her top. Her other exposed shoulder is soon covered by his other large hand and soon gets the same treatment of a light touch running over it. His hands are rougher than she thought they would be, but she likes it. The sensations they leave on her skin wakes up her nerves and unwittingly sends tinkles through his touch to the depths of her.

The mood is sweet as he starts to run both his hands down her arms, but about halfway down her biceps, it changes. She feels it in his touch, in the room, and most importantly, she feels it in herself. The tinkles and buzzing in her head switches from a weird but nice feeling to a flight or fight instinct being sent out to every little cell in her body that had just been awakened by his touch. In a flash, things move into slow-motion and she tries to move her arms in front of her to push off the couch and get away, she knows she needs to get away, but as she moves just a single inch everything seems to go into double speed and she doesn't know what to do. His knee is moved to her lower back and pushes her down hard making her cry out in pain. His hands now have a tight grip on her arms, that she can already feel will leave behind bruises, and move down to pin her lower arms tugged to her back. Pushing the angle hard up. She cries out in pain again as she feels a string with a tickling and scratchy feeling being wrapped around her wrists and up her lower arms. Her pained cry equally from pain and panic. He's wrapping seems determined and detailed but is done so expertly like he's done it a thousand times before. The thought startles her even more. Her fight or flight reflexes start up again and even if she got his knee in her back and her arms wrapped, she tries to move away. She tries moving her arms but is reminded of their tight wrap that's so securely tied all she feels is the scratch from what she thinks is tinsel. The panic beats through her body and brain sending warning signals everywhere. She tries to move away again. Her breathing is rash as she struggles to be able to stand up, but his hand comes to the back of her neck pushing her back down. Panicked tears come to her eyes. She hears him whisper "Naughty," through her struggles as she feels his hand squeeze around her neck. The action makes her stop her escape attempts and her panic switches to freeze her in my place. "Nice," he whispers after her struggles have settled down and he bends to her ear and sternly continues, "Now stays still." and it's all she can do.
He slowly removes his knee from her back, she thinks to see if she will stay still and she does. She can't do anything but stay still, everything except for her rapid breathing is frozen in place. Her breathing shakes when he moves his hands down her body and then over her ass, tracing the thin material of her lace panties. The panicked tears filling her eyes is more evident now. "Naughty," she hears him whisper in a slight chuckle. The sound sending goosebumps through her spine and makes her shut her eyes even harder. She wants to disappear. His hands move down her thighs to her knees removing the blanket covering her in the process. When his hands reach her knees he pushes them up toward her stomach making her ass rising up into the air. Everything in the room is quiet when he does, except for her harsh breathing, inside her head it's far from quiet though. Her brain is screaming for her to move, to get away, to fight, but her body won't let her move.