A Goddess Marquesa Christmas Adventure


Goddess Marquesa took another sip of her eggnog and looked appreciatively at her hostess’s Christmas tree. Mistress Henrietta made a good nog and had good taste in Christmas décor, the Goddess had to give her that. Right at eye level was a charming glass ornament, showing Santa on his hands and knees, ball-gag in mouth, being dominated by a gorgeously boot-clad, whip-bearing Woman. It could have been modeled on a scene six weeks ago, when Goddess Marquesa last saw Santa in person.

The Goddess would not have come to this party except as a favor to Clarence the guardian angel. He had showed up at her West Florida condo earlier in the day, anxious and (as usual) a little tipsy despite the early hour. He had been assigned a rescue mission at this Christmas party which conflicted with his holiday plans: a convention of Succubi in Las Vegas at which Clarence would no doubt find himself trussed and gagged much like Santa in the ornament right now under the Goddess’s gaze.

According to Clarence’s superiors, some poor sap was going to contemplate suicide at this party, an emergency which had been considered Clarence’s specialty since he had earned his wings by rescuing a button-down type in western New York right after WWII. Clarence was terrified that if tragedy happened on his watch, his wings would be taken away. After much whining and pleading Goddess Marquesa had agreed to fill in for him, even though it meant committing part of her Christmas Eve.

So that is what had brought Goddess Marquesa to an apartment full of strangers here on the tenth floor of a building in the beach town she called home. The Goddess finished her eggnog and set the cup down on an end-table. Looking around the room she could see why Clarence had thought of her for this mission. The hostess was a dominatrix, and all of the guests were likewise dommes and their slaves. Clarence had cued her into the fact that it was a costume party. Everyone was wearing some combination of fetish wear and holiday garb.

“The famous Goddess Marquesa!” one of a pair of young woman exclaimed, holding out her hand in greeting as she and her companion approached the tree. “I am Mistress Henrietta Potter. Welcome to my home!” Mistress Henrietta was wearing a black leather corset and black stiletto heels, showing off the blush and contours of her fit, twenty-something physique. A small Santa hat with a sprig of holly was pinned to her tight bun of blond hair, giving her outfit some Yuletide ambience. The brunette next to her wore a skimpy, form-fitting “elf” costume.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Mistress Henrietta asked as the Goddess shook her offered hand.

“I heard tell of the party and was feeling frisky,” Goddess Marquesa replied, scanning the room for signs of the man she was meant to save, but seeing none. “I hope you don’t mind my crashing.”

“Crashing?!” Mistress Henrietta protested in an affected voice. “Goddess Marquesa cannot be a party crasher! You are welcome wherever you may go.”

“That is very sweet of you to say,” Goddess Marquesa answered with a polite but subdued smile, sensing insincerity in her hostess’s tone.

“Let me introduce one of my dearest friends, Mistress Zuzu,” Henrietta said, gesturing to the brunette elf at her side.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Zuzu intoned airily as she shook the Goddess’s hand.

“I love your outfit,” Henrietta commented, a hint of a smirk on her rouged lips. “I am always so inspired when a woman of your age has the self-confidence to come to a party like this.”

Goddess Marquesa forced herself not to laugh, thinking to herself: “Aha! There is the passive-aggressive bitchiness I’ve been sensing. Another young domme who thinks she can condescend to Me.”

The Goddess was showing much less skin than the other guests, being covered in a floor-length white-fur-trimmed red robe that Santa had given her last Christmas. Sensing Henrietta’s challenge, she threw open the front of her robe to show that underneath she wore only a black bikini bottom, knee-high black boots, and a black leather under-halter. The two younger women could not suppress a gasp at the sight of the Goddess’ creamy thighs, shapely torso, and magnificent bare breasts.

“So….” Henrietta stammered, needing a moment to recover from the assault of the Goddess’s aggressive sexiness, “you are a hypnodomme? Could you give us a demonstration?”

“Of course,” Goddess Marquesa sighed, resisting the impulse to roll her eyes in impatience. “Whom would you like Me to hypnotize?”

“Me!” Henrietta chirped. “Everyone,” Henrietta announced, raising her voice to attract the assembled guests’ attention, “we are in for a special treat! Goddess Marquesa is going to give us a demonstration of her hypnotic power!”

Henrietta pulled a chair into the center of the common area of the tenth-floor apartment in which the party goers had gathered. Seating herself, she turned to Goddess Marquesa and declared, “I am your willing subject!”

“What type of trance would you like Me to induce?” the Goddess asked. “Relaxation? Therapeutic?”

Henrietta smiled tightly. “Don’t hold back!” she replied in a sarcastic tone. “Put me under your control. Make me follow your commands!”

“All right,” the Goddess agreed, resigning herself to being underestimated. “Listen to My voice. Feel its power. You are becoming very relaxed. Very sleepy….you can feel your eyelids getting heavier….heavier….your eyes are closing now. You are completely asleep…completely relaxed…there is only My voice and the gentle, soothing calm of my words…”

As the other guests watched, hushed, Henrietta visibly responded to the Goddess’s incantation. Her eyes closed, her muscles relaxed. Her posture slumped as her torso seemed to go rubbery, and her head lolled to one side.

“Listen to Me…,” Goddess Marquesa continued, “My will is stronger than your will. From now on you will be unable to resist My commands. My voice is your Master. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Goddess Marquesa,” Henrietta answered in a sleepy monotone.

“Very good,” the Goddess noted. “When I count to three you will emerge from trance. You will feel completely refreshed and relaxed. One, two, three!”

As the Goddess finished counting Henrietta sprang erect in her chair and stood, seemingly unchanged from before. “Oh! That was wonderful!” Henrietta chimed, standing and directing a facetiously understated “golf clap” in the Goddess’s direction.

“Wait!” Zuzu said, “How do we know it worked? Give her a command!”

The crowd turned expectantly toward Goddess Marquesa, who only smiled enigmatically in response. “I don’t want to embarrass our hostess,” the Goddess declared. “It would be impolite….”

“Nonsense!” Henrietta exclaimed. “Try something innocuous. Who has a suggestion?”

“Make her sing ‘Jingle Bells’!” Zuzu volunteered.

“Very well,” Goddess Marquesa agreed. With a smile that showed she knew what to expect, the Goddess faced Henrietta and commanded, “Sing ‘Jingle Bells’.”

Henrietta stiffened, her eyes widening. She trembled slightly, as if trying to resist a sudden compulsion. Then, in a dreamy voice she began, “J….J…Jingle bells…Jingle bells…

As the crowd watched, Henrietta emerged suddenly from her daze. Her limbs loosened, she picked up the tempo and sang more deliberately: “Robin laid an egg. The Batmobile lost a wheel and Batgirl broke her leg!

As the crowd applauded, Henrietta dissolved in laughter. “Oh, Marquesa!” she yelled, her tone congenial but her expression mocking, “You are a trip! That was adorable!”

As Henrietta laid a condescending “air kiss” on her cheek, Goddess Marquesa caught an alarming sight out of the corner of her eye. While the rest of the party had been distracted by Henrietta’s stage show, one of the male slaves had slipped away unnoticed onto the balcony patio of the apartment. Goddess Marquesa could see him through the glass doors that led into the common room, his back to the rest of the party as he gazed out over the rail into the empty air.

“Excuse Me,” Goddess Marquesa said, breaking away from Henrietta and making a beeline for the patio. Now that Henrietta’s gag was over, the attention of the party goers moved on to other diversions, so no one noticed as the Goddess exited to the balcony and approached the lone slave.

As she drew near, Goddess Marquesa could hear that the man was sobbing. He was naked except for a cotton loincloth and a black studded collar. On the patio floor next to him was a discarded piece of paper with some writing in a neat feminine hand. Picking it up, the Goddess read:


Dear George,


         you bore Me. My gift to you this Christmas is your freedom. After tonight you are no longer My slave.


                            your Ex-Owner,


                            Mistress Henrietta


“I can see you are upset, George,” Goddess Marquesa said, her tone gentle. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“There is nothing to talk about,” George croaked through snot and tears. “Without Mistress Henrietta I’m nothing. I wish I was never born.”

“Don’t be silly….” Goddess Marquesa began, but before she could finish the thought George put his foot on the lower cross-bar of the railing and began to heave himself over the rail.

“Stop!” Goddess Marquesa commanded in her most powerful voice. George obeyed involuntarily, bound by the irresistible force of the Goddess’s will.

“Look at Me!” the Goddess ordered.

Again George could not help but obey. As his eyes focused on Goddess Marquesa, his whole expression and demeanor changed. He let go of the railing and stepped back down onto the floor of the patio, facing the Goddess.

While he stood stunned, George’s eyes traveled over Goddess Marquesa’s face and body, and she witnessed the same transformation she had seen in so many hundreds of men throughout her lifetime. George’s pupils dilated. His breathing became shallow. His limbs quivered, his face broke into a nervous sweat. His loincloth tented and showed a stain as his cock stiffened and wept pre-cum in response to Goddess Marquesa’s overpowering sexual magnetism. As the Goddess watched, she could see the memory of Mistress Henrietta drain from George’s body, mind and soul, and be replaced by a ravenous desire for Goddess Marquesa. George’s trembling intensified until finally his legs gave way, and he fell to his knees.

“You have a wonderful life, George,” Goddess Marquesa declared, “I can show you that.”

“Are you going to take me back in time so I can see how much worse the world would have been without me?” George asked.

“No,” the Goddess replied with a smile. “I’m a Hypnodomme, not an angel. I am going to show you how much better the world is with you as My slave, starting right now.”

“Oh, yes!” George exclaimed, crawling forward to implore the Goddess and offer her his adoration. “Yes, please! Please I beg You! Make me Your slave!”

“That’s a good pet,” Goddess Marquesa soothed as George kissed and licked her boots in worship. “Listen to My voice. Let My words sink in deep….”

When her spell was cast, the Goddess reached into her robe for a leash that she kept on her at all times for just such an occasion, and attached the hooked end to George’s collar. Easing him up from the floor of the balcony patio, she led her new pet back into the common room of the apartment where the party was still going on as before.

Seeing George being led by Goddess Marquesa’s leash, Henrietta exclaimed, “George?! What do you think you’re doing?!” This brought the party to a hushed halt, as if someone had hit “freeze frame.”

“And you!” Henrietta shouted at Goddess Marquesa as the party goers stared, gaping, “How dare you meddle with my slave!”

“Your ex-slave,” Goddess Marquesa corrected. “Since you were foolish enough to discard him, I’ve claimed him as ‘salvage.’”

“Don’t talk that way to me in my own apartment!” Henrietta screamed.

As the shocked party goers watched, Henrietta strode forward and snatched at Goddess Marquesa’s leash.

“Heel, girl!”

It was the Goddess that spoke. On these words, Henrietta fell to all fours, panting like a dog.

“Sit!” the Goddess ordered.

Henrietta dropped her ass, so that she was on hands and haunches.

“Play dead!”

Henrietta flopped to the carpet, sprawled on her side like a discarded rag doll.

“Now roll over!” Goddess Marquesa commanded.

Henrietta cascaded across the floor like a wild rolling pin, stopping only when she crashed into the base of the Christmas tree, setting an ornamental silver bell to jingling.

“My teacher used to say that every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings,” chirped Zuzu.

“I don’t know about that, sweetie,” replied Goddess Marquesa, standing in the open doorway of the apartment with her new pet in tow, “but I can promise you that every time a bell rings, somewhere in the world one of My slaves salivates.


The End


A Safe, Healthy, and Goddessful Christmas to All!