I saw the email at 4:06 PM, December 24. It had been sent at 3:30. “Get here within one hour and you will have the chance for a special reward.” It was from Goddess Marquesa. I sprang from my desk, told the office manager I had an emergency for which I had to leave, and raced for my car.

I had met her two weeks earlier during a singles’ night at a swanky club here in the West Florida beach town where we both live. From the beginning the encounter was extraordinary. I approached her because she was the most stunning woman in a very crowded room. But within a few minutes of talking to her it became clear that she was like no one I had every met before. She was charming. She was witty. She was intriguing. But most of all she was sexy.

Oh dear Heaven above, is she SEXY. The emotions she aroused in me came on so fast that I was completely unprepared. I could feel myself becoming obsessed with her as we spoke.

If our first meeting was surprising, our first date was utterly mystifying. I have led a completely vanilla life, I never had any knowledge of BDSM except the odd tidbit picked up from dirty jokes and superhero movies. When Goddess Marquesa looked into my eyes across the table of the restaurant and said, “I am a Hypnodomme, you know. I turn men like you into mindless slaves for My pleasure,” I gaped in witless incomprehension. I had no idea what she was talking about, but my body responded instantly. My cock became rock hard, and from that moment on I was putty in her gorgeous hands.

If you had told me two months ago that I would be crawling on my hands and knees, sobbingly pleading to be spanked, or that I would whine myself hoarse begging to be fucked hard with a strap-on dildo, or that I would put on a French maid’s uniform and spend six hours scrubbing a woman’s apartment from ceiling to floor while my cock wept beads of cum, I wouldn’t have believed you. But I have done all those things, and others too, and when I received Goddess’s summons, all I could think was, “Oh, yes, PLEASE. More more more more more MORE….”

Because I had seen her message so late, I had very little time. I raced like the wind to meet her deadline. If any cops had seen me I surely would have lost my license. Luckily no pedestrians came anywhere near my path, or lives might have been lost.

If I was excited on my way to Goddess Marquesa’s place, I nearly died of arousal when I got there. She answered the door wearing nothing but a black lace bustier, black panties, black garters, sheer black stockings, and black patent-leather stilettos. The sight of her gorgeous legs and exquisite tits, combined with the sweet fragrance of her perfume, literally floored me. My legs turned to jelly and I fell to my knees, pupils dilated, heart pounding, breath coming in short gasps.

She laughed, which made my balls clench with aching need. “You fool,” she purred, looking at her watch to note that it was now 4:29 PM. “You just made it. Get up off the floor and come meet My other guests.”

My heart sank at the mention of other guests, but I was too thrilled to be in her presence to be brought too low. I followed her like an obedient puppy into her bedroom. In one corner of the room, across from the Goddess’s bed, there was a beautifully decorated Christmas tree. On the other side of the room was a plastic mat on which knelt two men. One of them was young and tan, wearing a leather jacket and khaki pants. The other was a roly-poly white-haired man wearing a baggy red suit trimmed with white fur and a soft, red, pointed cap.

“That is the best Santa impersonator I ever saw,” I noted appreciatively.

“Your mama’s an impersonator, asshole!” said the white-bearded man.

I coughed in surprise, prompting the Goddess to explain, “Santa is touchy about the whole ‘impersonator’ thing. He doesn’t like being mixed up with department store employees and Salvation Army bell-ringers.”

“Santa is real?” I asked, unable to keep the disbelief from my voice.

“He wasn’t real until he became My slave,” the Goddess declared. “Isn’t that right Santa?”

“Yes, Goddess!” Saint Nick agreed effusively. “I am the dirt that clings to Your shoe! The paper that wipes Your ass!”

“Enough groveling, shitstain,” the Goddess commanded with a roll of her bewitching eyes. “Sucking up won’t help you.”

The Goddess pointed at the empty spot on the mat next to the younger man, and I knelt obediently. “In the spirit of the holidays I’ve decided to give you all a little gift,” she declared, taking up a position in front of us. “We are going to play a little game that will test My power over you all.” Walking to a cabinet along one wall of the bedroom next to the Christmas tree, she opened its door and retrieved a short leather riding-crop from a storage hook inside. Testing the weight of the crop in her hand, she walked back to face us again.

“The rules of the game are simple,” she explained. “I will use this crop on each of you in turn. I will whip you as many times as you beg Me to. The one who begs to be thrashed the most times gets to taste My pussy.”

My cock was already hard from proximity to the Goddess, but it became more engorged at the prospect of tasting her pussy. I could feel the rising excitement in the two other slaves next to whom I was kneeling. The bulge in Santa’s pants was so enormous it would have held up the angel topping the Goddess’s Christmas tree.

“You first, Santa,” the Goddess commanded, using her crop to point to the spot of floor directly in front of her.

“Yes, Goddess!” Santa chirped. With eager speed he shuffled into position, making a subtle gesture with one hand as with the other he pulled down his pants to offer the Goddess his bare ass. “Please whip me, Goddess!” Santa cried, looking away from our Mistress so that only I and the younger man could see the mischievous grin on his face.

“Not yet, fucktard!” the Goddess scolded.

“Why not?” Santa protested, looking back at Goddess Marquesa with an innocently wide-eyed expression.

“No magic!” The Goddess intoned sternly. “Remove the spell of protection I saw you cast on your ass just now!”

With a hangdog look Santa waved his hand, sending an electric shiver through the air as he undid his magic spell.

“One!” the Goddess shouted, bring her crop down fiercely on Santa’s ass. Santa winced at the pain, but his face also showed joy at being worked on by the Woman he adored. “Thank You, Goddess!” he cried. “Please whip me again!”

Watching Santa get beaten was sweet torture. I wanted to be him, to feel the Goddess focus her power on my body. But at the same time I was grateful to be a witness to the scene. Goddess was more beautiful than I had ever seen her before. She literally took my breath away. I could barely contain my arousal.  It was all I could do to keep myself from stroking my cock or crawling over to place my lips against her exquisite feet in abject worship.

Santa was deliriously happy through the first two dozen or so blows of the Goddess’s crop. But then the pain began to break through. Tears began to leak from his eyes and snot from his nose. As each new blow landed, first Santa began to hiss, then to groan, and finally to scream in torment. His breathing became labored. Finally, after the forty-second stroke of the crop, Santa’s arms gave way and he collapsed flat to the floor, panting in agony.

“Get up fucktard,” the Goddess ordered, kicking the fat old elf lightly in the ribs to rouse him. He did not rise, but only groaned. “Do you want some more?” asked Goddess Marquesa.

“Mercy, Goddess….please….mercy…” was Santa’s only answer.

“All right…Switch places!” the Goddess commanded, pointing at the younger man. Santa crawled over to lie in a heap where he had been kneeling before. The younger man took Santa’s place in front of Goddess and offered her his bare ass.

His trial went similarly to that of Santa. Initially his expression conveyed only joy. He was Goddess Marquesa’s complete puppet, she obviously possessed him body, mind and soul. But eventually even he reached the limits of what he could endure. He lasted forty-nine strokes before he too admitted that he could take no more.

“Now you, shitstain,” the Goddess ordered, pointing at me. I felt ready to explode in a shower of pressurized cum, but I composed myself enough to take my position under the Goddess’s crop, ass naked. Like the others I felt nothing but ecstasy from the first two dozen strokes: being the Goddess’s whipping dummy was pure joy.

But then the pain gradually intensified, eventually becoming raw agony. As each blow landed I forced myself to ask for another. “Thank You, Goddess! Please, again!” I screamed, my voice ragged with pain. My vision went red. My ears began to ring. The world dissolved into a crimson haze of torment. But I forced myself to continue, the image of Goddess’s pussy driving me mad with desire. Her pussy. HER PUSSY! I needed to taste it. Nothing else mattered.

A bucket of cold water from the Goddess’s bathroom woke me up. I had passed out from the pain. Shaking myself, I rose to my hands and knees and began to crawl off in defeat.

“Where are you going, fool?” the Goddess asked. “You fainted on the fiftieth stroke. You are the winner of this little contest.”

I had never heard sweeter words in my life. The Goddess placed her crop on the bed, picked up a pillow, and lay down on the carpet next to the Christmas tree. “Come get your present, slave,” she commanded.

I crawled over toward the Christmas tree and between the Goddess’s legs. Her panties were crotchless, she tilted her hips up so that I could plunge my mouth into her sweet, moist cleft. The taste and aroma was heavenly. My mouth moved with eager delight. As I felt her quiver with pleasure under my tongue I feared my mind might implode with ecstasy.

“you two puppets may stroke yourselves as you watch,” Goddess commanded Santa and the younger man, “but you may only cum as I do.”

The room became a symphony of desire. I lapped joyfully at the Goddess’s pussy, savoring her essence and her delight. The two men behind me grunted and heaved as they pumped their cocks in desperate obedience. After ten minutes Goddess Marquesa shuddered with pleasure and let out a soft, sweet moan of satisfaction. As she did the two kneeling slaves screamed in volcanic release. Sticky drops rained down on my bare ass as hot cum spewed from two throbbing cocks.

Tears of joy rolled down my cheeks as Goddess Marquesa rose from the floor.

“Thank You, Mistress! Thank You!” I sobbed, rising to my knees with my hands clasped in front of me in an attitude of prayer.

The Goddess withdrew to her bathroom. We heard the sound of water running, and after a few minutes she emerged wearing a snow-white bathrobe and carrying three damp washcloths. “Your submission to My power pleases Me slaves,” she declared, handing us each a washcloth and favoring us all with a beautiful smile. “Merry Christmas to you all!”

“Ho ho! Merry Christmas, Goddess!” Santa rejoined, using his washcloth to wipe at the cum dripping from his cock and puddling on the mat in front of him. “I am so grateful for Your gift,” he continued, “but….I have a small problem…you see, tonight when I ride my sleigh….”

“I thought of that,” the Goddess interrupted, reaching under her bed. Rising, she produced a donut-shaped pillow decorated with eyes, antlers, and a red nose. “I call this ‘Rudolph the Hemorrhoid Cushion.’ I made it as a craft hobby when I was recovering from vocal surgery.” She handed the pillow to Santa, and then produced two more. “These I made for you slaves,” she declared, handing one to me and one to the younger man.

“Thank You, Mistress!” I cried. “You are truly Divine!”

“I know,” she said. “Now fuck off, all three of you. I want to watch The Grinch Who Stole Christmas with my cat.”

So with hearts full of love and bums shiny red,

We went two to our cars, and one to his sled.

Full of dreams of our Goddess, each returned to his door,

Knowing that he would be Hers evermore.

To all of you reading, whether near or far,

Whatever you do and whoever you are,

I send you this wish full of holiday joy,

May this Christmas make you the Goddess’s toy!

Merry Christmas!

Remember to be especially generous to your Goddess, this Christmas and every Christmas!