Tag: Legs

The Marquesa Clause

The Marquesa Clause

 

A Goddess Marquesa Christmas Extravaganza

 

           

            ‘Twas the night before Christmas, and if any creature was stirring I probably would not have noticed. I had hit the eggnog pretty hard and was watching Elf for the umpteenth time on Netflix. Right at the point when Peter Dinklage had Will Ferrell in a headlock, however, something did draw my attention to the fireplace. A shower of debris fell noisily from the chimney, drawing my eyes to the space below the hearth just in time to see a magnificent pair of legs descend from the direction of the flue. These were followed by an equally gorgeous torso and face.

Before I could get my bearings on what was happening, a stunning curvaceous blonde was standing in my den, dressed in what can only be called a “Sexy Santa” costume. Her feet were shod in high-heeled black leather boots trimmed in white fur. Her red coat, also trimmed in white fur, was cut short to reveal her exquisite legs in see-through black nylons. Her peaked red hat with white pom-pom was worn at a jaunty angle on her lush blonde hair. Her deep green eyes made an appropriate seasonal contrast with her red regalia.

“Hello Gerald,” the seductive intruder said, making me shiver with the darkly velvet tone of her voice even as I wondered how she knew my name. “You’ve been a naughty boy this year.”

“Who are you?” I asked. “And how did you get down that chimney?”

“I am Goddess Marquesa,” the siren answered. “As for the chimney…it’s some kind of magic. The boys at the North Pole have explained it to Me, but I frankly don’t know and don’t care, as long as it works.”

“North Pole!?” I exclaimed in shock. “You mean you were sent by…”

“Santa….that’s right,” she confirmed. “What other explanation could there be…except perhaps PCP-laced eggnog or delusional psychosis?”

I was fairly certain I was not drugged or insane, but belief came hard. “Are you telling me Santa is real?” I blurted.

“If he’s not, I don’t know whose ass I have been paddling red for the past ten years,” Goddess Marquesa avowed.

“Why did Santa send you?” I asked. “Why didn’t he come himself?”

“Well, like I said, Gerald,” the Goddess explained, “you are on the Naughty List.”

“Wh-wh-what?” I stuttered.

As my question hung in the air, another rustling came from the chimney. A very short man, dressed all in green with a pointed hat, dropped down into the fireplace. The man was about three-feet six inches tall, had pointed ears, and was carrying a long scroll of what looked like parchment, densely covered with ink writing in a spidery hand.

“Gerald Harlan,” the elf read, “frequent viewing of internet porn…seven visits to ‘dungeons’….on the first visit, fitted with nipple clamps and spanked with a rubber…”

“Okay, okay,” I interjected. “I know what I did. If I am on this ‘naughty list’ why bother paying a call on Christmas Eve at all? Don’t you have enough trouble covering everyone on the ‘nice list’?”

“This isn’t official North Pole business,” the Goddess confided, “it is more of an ‘under the counter’ deal. Santa owes Me for losses at poker, and is generally incapable of refusing Me anything I want in any case, so I have arranged a little side deal with him. Every Christmas Eve he lends me the ‘Naughty List’….actually, technically it is only part of the ‘Kinky List- Subsection: Submissive Males’….and his extra sled, along with (here she gestured at the elf) Snowdancer here to assist. I spend the night visiting men I select from the list, by way of recruiting new slaves. As I see it, it is a win-win-win proposition.”

“Who are the three parties winning?” I asked, confused.

At this she rolled her breathtaking eyes. “I was being rhetorical, Gerald,” she declared. “I win. Beyond that, it doesn’t really matter.”

She strode forward, removed my glass of eggnog from my hand, and set it on the end table next to me. Kicking up her right leg, she placed her boot on the back of the chair above my left shoulder, so that she loomed over me, caging me in the “L” formed by her hips and thigh.

“I’m going to give you a choice,” she declared. “You can sit back and relax while I hypnotize you. I will bring you deep into trance, where I will unlock sexual fantasies you haven’t yet dared to dream. Under My Power you will experience the greatest orgasm of your life, after which you will be My love-drunk sex slave and fucktoy.”

I gulped hard and gasped for air. The closeness of her body was overwhelming. Her scent filled my senses and made me dizzy.

“What’s my other choice?” I asked.

“Do you really want to know your other choice?” she asked, stroking my right cheek so that my left was pressed against the smooth skin of her thigh.

“N…n…no,” I confessed.

“Good,” she declared with satisfaction. “I like a man who surrenders without a struggle. Listen to My voice…you feel yourself getting so relaxed….so very relaxed…you want to obey My will, which is stronger than your will…..”

The next thing I can remember, I was lying face-down in an enormous puddle of my own semen. Goddess Marquesa was standing by the hearth, haloed in the light coming from my Christmas tree ornaments. I had never seen anyone so sexy, or felt desire so fierce as I experienced in that moment.

“Goddess!” I moaned, reaching toward her as if to touch her.

“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!” she called, blowing me a kiss.I moaned again and tried to crawl forward, but she darted under the hearth and disappeared. I heard what sounded like sleighbells coming from the roof, and then silence…

I have never recovered from that night. Ever since, I have been the Goddess’s fuckpuppet and sex toy. I don’t know how long the list of her slaves is. Perhaps even she doesn’t know, it is so full. But I thank Goddess every day that I am on it. Slavery to Goddess Marquesa is the greatest Christmas gift anyone could EVER ask for…..

 

The End

 

A Goddessful Christmas to All the readers of H-E!

 

Remember to show your love for Goddess in this season of giving!

 

 

 

A story from the brilliant imagination of Goddess Marquesa

  “I see your twenty and I raise you one hundred,” I said, throwing six red chips into the kitty at the center of the table. It was a fairly safe bet, but my poker buddies couldn’t know that. They hadn’t seen the three queens sitting in my hand. Not yet.

I had silenced my phone and left it face up on the table next to my pile of chips. It began to vibrate, the screen lit up. I winced as I recognized the number.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” I declared to the other players. Rising from the table, I took my phone out into the hallway and put it to my ear.

“Hello,” I said into the receiver, not able to conceal the guilt in my tone.

“I’ve been waiting at the restaurant where W/we arranged to meet for ten minutes,” she answered. The sound of her voice gave me chills. “Why aren’t you here?”

“I’m sorry,” I replied, “I got cold feet. I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m playing poker with some friends.”

“No you’re not,” she declared.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“I said you’re not playing poker with your friends. Listen to My voice….you can feel yourself getting very sleepy….so relaxed….”

I don’t remember what happened for the next half hour. My friends later told me that I never returned to the table. I stood in the hallway for fifteen minutes or so, listening to my phone. Then I walked out of the house, got in my car, and drove away without a word to anyone.

“One…two…three!”

Her voice brought me out of trance. I was standing in a living room I had never seen before. The décor was uncluttered and tasteful, the lights were dimmed. She was sitting before me in an elegant upholstered armchair, wearing nothing but black lingerie and black stiletto heels. Her curly blond hair was teasingly mussed, her magnificent legs were crossed to draw my eyes like magnets. Her gorgeous tits thrust upward as if to defy me to ignore them.

Most unsettling were those emerald green eyes. As I looked into them I could feel her burrowing into my soul, just like the first time I had locked eyes with her the week before at a bar by the ocean. I drowned so deeply in those eyes I thought I would never emerge again. In some sense I never had.

“You’ve been a naughty boy,” she said. “No one stands Me up.”

“How did I get here?” I whined, realizing as I did that I was stark naked. Despite my confusion and fear, my cock stiffened painfully at the sight of her and the sound of her voice. Her allure was too powerful to resist. It overwhelmed every instinct I had for flight or self-preservation.

“You drove here, silly boy. How else?”

“Why don’t I remember driving here? Or taking my clothes off?”

She laughed. “I hypnotized you, of course. Yes…I thoroughly entranced you. But even before I entranced you, I had entranced you, isn’t that right, pet?”

I shook my head, too disoriented to cope with riddles. “Look…” I pleaded, “I really like you, but….”

She interrupted me with a loud laugh. “You ‘really like Me?’ Listen to yourself. When we first met you practically turned into a puddle of desire at My feet.”

It was true. I had never felt anything so powerful. I wanted her so badly she terrified me. She still terrified me. I began to tremble, though the room was not cold.

“Look at your cock,” she continued, smirking sexily at my crotch, “the way it has become a tree trunk despite how scared you are. You ‘like’ Me! Get real.”

“It’s just…things are really complicated for me, now,” I stuttered. “I’m not ready for a new relationship.”

“No man is ever quite ready for Me, pet,” she declared. “What you’re ready for doesn’t matter. I told you the night W/we met that I want you.”

I swallowed hard. “Yes…I know…” I moaned. “I was very flattered…”

“That wasn’t flattery,” she corrected me.

“What was it?” I asked, feeling as stupid as I sounded.

“It was a prison sentence,” she explained. “When I want a man, he is Mine. If that isn’t dawning on you by now it will, soon.”

I swallowed hard and squinted about the room, looking for some sign of my clothes. “Please…” I whimpered.

She laughed again. “Shhh, pet. Don’t fuss or fidget. If you act like a baby I will have to treat you like one.” With this she picked up something that was on the floor next to her chair. It was a baby bottle filled with formula. Holding it up and rocking it gently as one would to show it to an infant, she purred, “This was meant to be a dinner date, after all. If you can’t be a man, I will make you suck your dinner through a nipple.”

She was trying to humiliate me, and it was working, in large part because she was also massively turning me on. She is so goddamn sexy. I could picture myself curled up in her lap, the smooth skin of her thighs supporting my ass, the lush pillow of her breasts cradling my cheek, sucking on the bottle as she held it to my mouth, cooing soft encouragement. The image flooded into my mind involuntarily, and my whole body responded. My nipples became hard. My heart pounded. My cock became even stiffer, which hadn’t seemed possible. A moan of mixed shame and yearning escaped my lips.

She smiled broadly, in satisfaction rather than surprise. She saw everything that was happening inside of me and had expected it all. A gleam of triumph lit her exquisite eyes that made her even more irresistible.

“We’ll see what will go in your mouth later,” she declared, putting the bottle back on the floor. “Come lay across my knees meanwhile and receive your punishment.” She uncrossed her gorgeous legs and patted her lap, summoning me.

“Punishment!?” I blurted, finding my voice despite the mist of arousal fogging my brain.

“Of course,” she beamed, smiling flirtatiously. “You’ve been a bad boy and must learn your place.”

“I’ve never been spanked in my life,” I protested.

“Well, you know what they say…” she drawled, “there’s a first time for everything, pet. In your case I would say it is high time.”

“How will you make me?” I asked, unable to conceal a tremor of fear. “Will you hypnotize me again?”

She chuckled at this. “No, silly. I could if I wanted to, but I won’t have to. You are going to surrender to Me willingly.”

“That’s nuts.” It was a brave statement, but my tone lacked conviction.

“Hardly,” she said. “You gave in to your fear and insecurity and skipped our dinner date because W/we hadn’t seen each other for a few days. But now that you are here with Me you won’t be able to bear walking out My door. You want Me too much. You need to know what I will make You feel…”

She patted her lap again. I began to tremble all over. After a minute of hesitation, I staggered silently forward. Half disbelieving my own actions, I lay down across her lap so that my ass stuck in the air.

“Bad boy!” she yelled, bringing the flat of her palm down, smack! My ass became a swollen mound of pain.

“Aaargh!” I screamed. Smack! Smack! Smack!

I bucked and squirmed. “Shhhh, pet,” she ordered. “Don’t be such a brat! Take your punishment like a good slut!”

The spanking seemed to go on forever. The pain was horrific. I howled and pleaded. But my cock stayed hard the whole time. I was in agony and doubly ashamed (ashamed of submitting to her abuse, ashamed of being such a wimp about it), but I was also turned on like I had never been before in my life.

“Do you want it to stop?” she finally asked.

“Yes! Oh, please yes, stop!” I cried.

“Then call Me ‘Mistress’,” she commanded.

“What?” I babbled.

Smack! She slapped me with double force, making me issue a high pitch scream like a tea kettle. “Call Me ‘Mistress!’” she repeated. “Say, ‘Mistress, please stop.’”
            “Mistress, please stop!” I pleaded. When she finally stopped I collapsed like a rag doll across her lap, exhausted.

“Enough fun,” she declared. “Get up, shitrag.”

I began to move, but she slapped me back into place, making me shudder and grunt in agony.

“When I give you an order, you say, ‘Yes, Mistress!’” she instructed.

“Yes, Mistress!” I repeated obediently.

I pushed against the side of the chair and pressed my toes against the floor to rise from her lap, but as I did so the muscles of her thighs closed around my rigid cock and squeezed, pulling me back down.

“What’s the matter, slug?” she demanded. “Do as I say! Get up!”

“Yes, Mistress,” I replied. But when I tried to rise she again clamped her thighs around my cock and pulled me back down.

“Why won’t you move, fucktard?” she goaded, her sexy voice dripping with teasing sarcasm. By now my cock and balls were afire with pleasure, and as she pulled me down again with her gorgeous thighs, I could feel my insides turning to molten rapture.

“Oooooooh….” was the only reply I could summon to her teasing command.

She continued to goad me. At first I wriggled and squirmed in an attempt to obey, but eventually I surrendered to the temptation and simply pumped my hips in time with her thighs, willing myself to explode. I knew I had become a disgusting animal, but I couldn’t stop myself. The feeling of being in her power was too delicious.

As I was about to burst, she clenched her thighs around my cock and stopped my motion. I wriggled and flailed, trying to push myself the last step toward catharsis, but she had complete control.

“Uhhhhh….” I groaned, unable to form words but trying to make her understand how much I needed to release.

She knew what I wanted without being told. “Beg Me, slut!” she commanded.

“P…p…please, Mistress!” I begged.

“Please, what? Say it, shitrag!”

“P….p…please make me cum, Mistress!”

A long, slender finger plunged into my ass and up my rectum. For a moment I felt probed and violated, but in the same instant I realized that I had just been given what I’d begged for. My world exploded in hot ecstasy.

I had never experienced an orgasm like it in my life. My body bucked and quivered for a full minute before the torrent of semen stopped spraying from my cock. I could hear her satisfied laughter as I drooped over her knees again, spent.

She released my cock from between her thighs and shoved me roughly, rolling me to the floor. I lay on my back and looked up at the ceiling, my mind a blur. “Clean your mess!” she directed, pointing to her shoes. I turned my head and saw that her shoes were covered in a web of sticky white goo. She had milked my cock with expert aim.

“Yes, Mistress!” I assented, without giving it a second thought or offering a moment of resistance. Rising to my hands and knees, I set to work licking my cum off of her stilettos.

“That’s a good pet,” she observed with satisfaction. “That’s a good cumlicking slut.”

When she was satisfied, she reached down and grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling me up onto my knees, facing her. “You’ve had your dinner,” she declared, “let’s seeing what we can find you for dessert.”

She pulled down the fabric of her brassiere off of her left tit with one hand, and drew me forward with the other. “Suck on this,” she ordered, putting her nipple in my mouth. I sucked greedily, my cock stiffening again despite how thoroughly my balls had just been drained. I made soft mewling sounds of satisfaction as my mouth worked, and she could feel my hot tears of shame and joy on her tits.

“Shhh….shhh…it’s all over now, pet,” she cooed. “You’re Mine now…”

 

 

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Friend Indeed   …a Goddess Marquesa birthday adventure  

A Friend Indeed

 

…a Goddess Marquesa birthday adventure

 

 

            We all have friends that we are not so friendly to. Well…maybe everyone doesn’t, but I do. Lots of them. Among women it is pretty common. Some of the women you know put you on your best behavior, others bring out the bitch in you. This is a story about a woman who brought out my inner bitch.

I forget the exact circumstances where we met. Maybe at the hotel by the beach where we go for sunset cocktails some Friday nights. Maybe at a lunch date on a weekday. I can’t remember who brought her into the group. Terry, I think. But I remember my first impression of her. She had just moved to Palm Harbor from California, and had a little bit of a “lost girl” vibe. Trying to find her footing in a new social scene. So of course I made her feel welcome…not. Read more…

The Shrine

     I found the shrine three weeks after moving into my new house. It was a secret room, secluded in the rear quarters of the beautiful old colonial manse in upstate New York. I had purchased the house, along with the fifty acres of property on which it was situated, hoping to have some seclusion. I had decided to retire as a hermit after the company I founded was bankrupted by the pandemic and my girlfriend left me.

The building was what my real-estate agent called a “fixer-upper.” I don’t really have any home improvement skills. But I figured that watching YouTube videos and learning how to mount drywall and apply spackle would be a good distraction from my personal woes. Read more…

Compulsion

  

Note: This story was inspired by actual events.

 

 She laughed and I looked up from my iPad. The sound reached deep inside of me, breaking my focus on the article I had been reading about the effect of the pandemic on Southeast Asian supply chains. I set the fork down with which I had been absentmindedly shoveling salad into my maw and craned my neck, looking for the source of that laugh. Until then I had been having a typical working lunch at the nice local eatery where I expense my meals to our clients. Nothing would ever be typical again. Read more…

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