The First Thanksgiving

 

a Thanksgiving tale conceived by Goddess Marquesa

 

“Welcome, ladies, and Happy Thanksgiving!” Goddess Marquesa said, smiling broadly as she raised her glass of wine to toast her two guests. All three women were seated around a dining room table set to receive a bountiful feast.

“Thank you!” Raven replied, clinking her glass against the Godess’s. Raven was a tall black-haired beauty, and had worn a bright red dress that accentuated the classic curves of her body, to mark the occasion. She batted long lashes at the Goddess and sipped prettily from her glass.

“You are the Hostess with the mostest!” Crimson chimed in, clinking her glass first against Raven’s, then against that of the Goddess. Her long red hair ran past her shoulders over her grey blouse and short green skirt. Shiny patent-leather black boots showed off the contours of her athletic legs. “I was so surprised to receive your invitation to Thanksgiving! Getting to spend this holiday with you is really special!”

Goddess Marquesa set her glass down and favored her guests with a warm smile. “You two girls are my besties,” she explained. “I could have celebrated Thanksgiving with anyone, but I wanted this year to be special.”

“That banker I’ve been dating, Bill, wanted me to come meet his mother and brothers, but I told him no,” Raven said. “The chance to celebrate with you was too good to pass up. My other boyfriend, the podiatrist, also wanted me for the holiday, but I told him I had ‘a prior engagement.’ He gave me such sad puppy-dog eyes!”

“Men!” Crimson agreed. “Such sad creatures. Look!” she interjected, holding up her phone to show its screen lit with the words ‘Boy #3.’ “I turned down two of my beaux for the holiday and the third is calling now. I’ll let it go to voicemail.”

“We have to get you hooked up,” Raven said, a wicked grin lighting her face as she addressed Goddess Marquesa. “You are too damn sexy to be spending the holidays without a man. You can have any man you want.”

Goddess Marquesa laughed.

“That’s no joke!” Crimson protested. “Raven and I are gorgeous, but we can’t hold a candle to you! It just doesn’t make sense that you should be alone for the holidays!”

“That’s not why I’m laughing, Sweetie,” Goddess Marquesa explained. “I’ve brought you here today to reveal something to you about Myself. I’ve been keeping secrets from you, but we’ve all become so close I decided that this Thanksgiving I could give you a sense of Who I really am, and maybe teach you a thing or two.”

Just at that moment the doorbell rang. Saying, “I’ll get it,” Crimson rose from the table to answer the door. Opening the front door of the Goddess’s condo, she gasped in surprise.

“There’s a man outside with a huge delivery of food for ‘Goddess Marquesa!’” Crimson panted, running back into the dining room.  “Who’s Goddess Marquesa?”

“I’m Goddess Marquesa,” the Goddess declared, “I’ll explain everything, but first we have to deal with this fellow,” Picking up a sealed envelope from a stack just like it on a low end table by her chair, she directed, “Give the man this darling, and tell him to take the food to the shelter on Elm Street. There are a tip and instructions in the envelope.”

After a minute Crimson returned to the table and handed Goddess Marquesa a slip of paper. “The delivery boy insisted on giving me this note for ‘Goddess Marquesa.’ The stack of boxes filled with food was a head taller than him, and he was a head taller than me!”

Goddess Marquesa looked down at the note and read out loud. “Divine Goddess…please enjoy this full Thanksgiving dinner for You and ten guests. Yours worshipfully, Ahmed. Oh that little fool! I told him no food this year!”

“Who is Ahmed?” Raven asked.

“He is my slave in Saudi Arabia,” the Goddess replied.

“Slave…..Goddess….what’s going on?” Raven whined, her delicate brow wrinkling in confusion.

Goddess Marquesa laughed again. “I told you gals I would reveal things to you today. It’s My way of giving thanks for your friendship. You only know Me in My vanilla guise, as your friend and coffee klatsch buddy. But I have an alter ego…. a truer identity, really. I am the Goddess Marquesa, Keeper of men and Queen of many adoring love slaves.”

Crimson giggled nervously. “Come on, now…,” she chided, her tone mildly teasing. “We know how gorgeous you are, and we love you, but…. slaves? You’re kidding us, right?”

“Let’s ring for the first course,” the Goddess said drily, picking up and shaking a small silver bell by her right hand on the dining room table.

A man appeared bearing a large silver tray on which was held three plates of salad. He was tall and well-muscled, with a classically chiseled square-jawed face, thick chestnut hair and hazel eyes. His face was heavily coated in lipstick and rouge, and he was wearing fish net stockings and a black maid’s uniform trimmed with white lace.

“Salad is served, Mistress,” the man said in a sullen tone. “This is arugula salad with poached pears and a cranberry-walnut vinaigrette.”

“Very good, slave,” the Goddess declared. “Set them down.”

“I know that guy!” Raven exclaimed as the salad was served and the three diners dug in. “He used to be a member of my gym! Hey you! I flirted with you for months and you ignored me!”

The man looked at Goddess Marquesa, seeming to ask for permission. The Goddess caught his eye and nodded. “I am sorry, Ms. Raven,” the man said haltingly. “I belong to Goddess Marquesa now.”

“What…. how…..where did you meet him?” Raven asked, her mouth gaping in wonder.

At that point the doorbell rang again. Goddess Marquesa picked up another envelope from the stack and handed it to Crimson. “Please go deal with that dear,” the Goddess requested.

As Crimson took the envelope to the front door, the Goddess returned her attention to Raven. “I met birdstud about three months ago, at the zoo where he works,” the Goddess said.

“Birdstud?” Raven asked.

“That’s what I call him,” Goddess Marquesa explained. “He has a PhD in ornithology. I took another slave on a date with me to the bird sanctuary at the local zoo. I flirted with birdstud to make my other slave jealous, and after a few minutes birdstud was captivated. I’ve been breaking him down ever since. He still isn’t happy about dressing in drag and wearing makeup, but he’ll learn…” Turning to birdstud, the Goddess commanded, “Go prepare the soup for when we’re done with salad.” Birdstud withdrew obediently.

Raven obviously wanted to speak, but could not form words to do so. Her mouth moved silently, but only slight puffs of air emerged from between perfect teeth. Finally her efforts were interrupted by the return of Crimson.

“That stack of boxes was twice as big as the last one!” Crimson cried, handing Goddess Marquesa another note.

“Oh Pierre, that jackass!” Goddess Marquesa declared, after reading the note that had accompanied the food delivery. “I will make him suffer for disobeying Me!”

“Why do men keep sending you food?” Crimson asked.

Goddess Marquesa smiled. “For the same reason that the ancients piled offerings on altars to Isis and Diana.”

This helped Raven find her voice. “Are you some kind of magician?” she asked.

“No, I’m a Woman,” Goddess Marquesa replied. “A vastly superior Woman, it’s true, but other women have the same powers as Me, just to a lesser degree. Though by profession I am a Hypnotist. And by nature and choice I am a Dominatrix.”

“So you made birdstud your slave by hypnotizing him?” Crimson asked.

“Oh, no silly goose!” Goddess Marquesa exclaimed. “A woman doesn’t need to know hypnosis to enslave a man!”

The three women ate quietly for a while, the silence broken only by occasional yummy noises from Crimson.

“That salad was delicious!” Crimson exclaimed. “Do you have another slave who is a chef? Who cooked this meal?”

Birdstud had begun clearing the salad plates, and Goddess Marquesa addressed him, asking, “Who cooked this meal slave?”

Birdstud stood at attention and answered, “I cooked this meal, Mistress!”

“Have you always known how to cook so well?” Raven asked.

“No, Ms. Raven,” birdstud replied. “I began a course at the local culinary institute two months ago on Goddess Marquesa’s orders.”

Raven raised her eyebrows, obviously impressed. Both Crimson and Raven looked at their Hostess with wide, wondering eyes. The doorbell rang again.

“Give me an envelope,” Crimson said, holding out her hand. Two minutes later she returned with a huge floral arrangement many times the size of her torso. “It wasn’t food so I took delivery!” Crimson explained, handing a small envelope to Goddess Marquesa. The Goddess removed the card and chuckled. “Oh Fujitoki that romantic idiot!” the Goddess quipped.  “How he remembers that today is an American holiday, I’ll never know. Just put the flowers off to that side, dear!”

The meal proceeded through several courses, all served and cleared by birdstud with quietly attentive care. First butternut squash soup with rosemary-chili oil and crème fraiche, then seared foie gras with homemade apricot jam. In between courses the doorbell continued to ring, and Crimson sent off two more delivery boys with envelopes.

“This is some kind of joke!” Raven protested, laughing. “You are having us on, and this ‘birdstud’ is in on it, right?”

Goddess Marquesa smiled. “No joke, Sweetie. I want to show you the kind of control you can have over men. You two gals have so much moxie. Your boyfriends should all be leashed and collared by now.”

“If you really have so many slaves, call another one over now for us to meet him!” Raven pleaded. “I have to know if this is real. It shouldn’t be hard to do if you have as much control over the others as you do of birdstud.”

“I don’t have to call another slave for you to see,” Goddess Marquesa declared.

“Why?” Raven asked.

“Because you are sitting on one of them now,” the Goddess explained. “Isn’t that right, hypnotwit?”

“Yes Mistress,” a voice pronounced from directly beneath Raven’s ass.

“Aaaaaaaaagh!!!” Raven screamed, jumping up from her seat and slamming into the dining table, knocking over glasses and wine bottles.

Hypnotwit rose from the floor. He was dressed head to toe in black leather, with a black leather hood over his head and face, so that he had looked for all the world like a leather-upholstered bench. Bowing from the waist, he declared, “I’m sorry for frightening you, Ms. Raven.”

“Get Raven a new chair and clean up this mess you made,” Goddess Marquesa commanded. “Then go into the kitchen and help birdstud with the turkey.”

“How do you do it?” Crimson asked, her voice conveying amazement, after Raven had settled down and the meal had resumed.

“It’s no special trick,” Goddess Marquesa explained. “There are three simple steps to making a man your slave, and you both already know step one.”

“What’s that?” Raven asked.

“Desire. When a man wants you he is halfway to being yours. You two can feel almost as much desire radiating from men at you as I do, all the time.”

“OK,” said Raven, “Desire. That’s easy for women who are as gorgeous as we are. What’s step two?”

“Love. Make a man fall in love with you,” the Goddess stated nonchalantly.

“That’s so hard!” Crimson protested.

“Not at all,” Goddess Marquesa explained. “Men are naturally our inferiors, and deep inside they know it. All you have to do is be yourself, let all of your strength and character show without worrying about all the bullshit demands our society makes on women. When a man sees he can’t con, bully, or manipulate you, he becomes putty in your hands.”

Raven and Crimson responded with a few moments of silence. They looked at their Hostess as if seeing her for the first time. “So what’s step three?” Raven asked.

“Control,” Goddess Marquesa declared. “Once a man is in love with you, rule him. Command him. You see the way I am with birdstud and hypnotwit. A man in love takes to control like a duck to water.”

“Don’t they resist?” Crimson asked.

“Yes,” the Goddess agreed, “but resistance is futile. Control is like quicksand. The more a man wriggles, the deeper he sinks in love with and slavery to you.”

Raven and Crimson both sat back in their chairs, as if they had both taken hits of a strong drink. “Wow,” Raven gasped. “You have blown my mind. I always knew you were one of the coolest people I know but now….now I realize you are one of the fucking coolest people in human history.”

At this all three women laughed, and just then birdstud and hypnotwit emerged with the main course and sides: roast turkey with cornbread stuffing, cranberry dressing scented with orange liqueur, au gratin potatoes, freshly baked rolls, and sauteed spinach with carrots and shredded leeks. Candles were lit, and the three women ate by their light.

After dessert had been served, Goddess Marquesa snapped her fingers. “Bring champagne!” she commanded hypnotwit. When the cork had been popped and the glasses poured, Goddess Marquesa raised hers for a toast. “Here’s to everything for which we can be thankful!” she proclaimed.

The three friends drank one glass of champagne, then a second. Wrinkling her nose as the bubbles tickled her, Crimson asked, “How does hypnosis work with your slaves? Does it help you control them?”

“Yes, of course,” Goddess Marquesa replied. “The mind is the one true erogenous zone. Getting deep inside My slaves’ heads gives me total control of their sexuality. If you asked any of My slaves to describe their greatest sexual experience, Goddess Marquesa would be the star of the story.”

“I want to see how it works!” Raven begged, pressing her hands together pleadingly.

Goddess Marquesa snapped her fingers once again, and hypntowit ran from the kitchen obediently.

“Pour,” Goddess Marquesa commanded, holding up her champagne glass in hypnotwit’s face. He picked up the bottle and emptied the last of its contents into Goddess Marquesa’s glass.

Goddess Marquesa continued to hold her now full glass in front of hypnotwit’s face. When he had set the bottle down, she commanded, “Look at the bubbles. See how they rise…. rise…..Follow the light…..”

As hypnotwit’s eyes focused on the cascading bubbles, Goddess Marquesa began slowly moving her glass back and forth. “You must follow the light…..follow the light…. you are getting very relaxed…. focus on My voice…. you feel yourself getting sleepy…. so sleepy…My voice takes You down…. down…..Your eyelids getting heavy…. down….. down…. you will sleep now….”

Hypnotwit’s head lowered to his chest. His shoulders slackened, his arms slumped. His breathing became even and shallow, his eyes closed.

“He is completely in trance now,” the Goddess declared.

“Cool!” Crimson squawked. “What can we do with him?”

“Let’s turn him into another piece of furniture!” Raven said, clapping with childish glee. “Let’s make him a lamp!”

Goddess Marquesa smiled and nodded her assent. “You hear me and obey me, slave,” she said to hypnotwit.

“I hear and obey, Mistress,” hypnotwit intoned.

“You are a lampstand. You have always been a lampstand. Show Me what you are.”

Hypnotwit reached up and unbuttoned his pants, letting them drop so that his ass was exposed. As Raven and Crimson gawked and laughed, hypnotwit stood on his head so that his bare ass stuck straight in the air. Once in that position he held it.

Raven looked at Goddess Marquesa with questioning eyes. “Is he a lamp?” she asked.

Goddess Marquesa held up an index finger, as if to say “watch and learn.” Picking up the empty champagne bottle with one hand and a pat of butter with the other, she spread the butter all over the thin, open end of the bottle that had once held the cork. Once this was done she handed the bottle to Raven.

Raven took the bottle and looked at it, momentarily confused. In a few seconds realization dawned on her. “I see how this fits!” she declared, and jammed the greased end of the bottle into hypnotwit’s ass. When that was done, Goddess Marquesa scooped one of the lit candles from the table, and balanced it on the bottom of the champagne bottle.

“Voilà, a lamp!” Goddess Marquesa said with a grand flourish of both exquisite hands.

“That is the coolest fucking thing I have ever seen!” Crimson gushed.

Goddess Marquesa raised her glass. “Who would like to make a final toast?” she asked.

“I will,” Raven said, raising her glass to her Hostess. “On this Thanksgiving I toast you. I could not think of anything I am more thankful for, than the chance to know a real GODDESS!”

 

 

The End