A Mistress for Christmas

by | December 21, 2017 | General

A bit of sexy holiday silliness…

A Visit from Mistress Nicole

‘Twas the night before Christmas.

Outside the snow fell,

But inside Club O,

It was hotter than hell.

The slaves were all hung

on their crosses with care

in hopes that their dominants

soon would be there.

The Doms were preparing

the racks and nail beds

with visions of ropework

and chains in their heads.

My pet wore her collar

and I with my tawse

was laying down stripes

red as old Mr. Claus.


When out at the entrance

arose such a clatter

I left my cuffed slut

to see what was the matter.


The light on her breasts

was like new-fallen snow

when compared to the crimson

silk corset below.

Her hair was like fire,

her lips were like cherries,

a ruby stud winked

in the dip of her belly.

Her black leather boots

clasped her legs to the thigh.

Her emerald eyes twinkling,

she raised her whip high.


“I’ve come to reward

all the masochist perverts

for all the year’s humble

and diligent service.”

Though purely a top

as you’re likely to meet,

I admit I was tempted

to kneel at her feet.


She strode through the dungeon

with oiled single tail.

Her lash made the subbies

all quiver and quail.

To each bottom’s lips

the delicious Domme bent;

she wouldn’t do more

till she had their consent.


But then she let loose

while we tops watched in awe

as she happily flogged

half a dozen subs raw.

“Now, baby – oh, boyo!

Breathe, girly – Now, Pet!

Take this now! Don’t you move!

Are you hard? Are you wet?”

As her whip kissed their flesh

we all thrilled at the sight,

while their asses turned scarlet,

their spirits took flight.


When at last she relented,

the ritual done,

we Doms found that we,

like our slaves, had all come.


And we heard her exclaim

as she vanished from sight:

“Merry Kinkmas to all!

May your bonds remain tight!”


Lisabet Sarai

Sex and writing. I think I've always been fascinated by both. Freud was right. I definitely remember feelings that I now recognize as sexual, long before I reached puberty. I was horny before I knew what that meant. My teens and twenties I spent in a hormone-induced haze, perpetually "in love" with someone (sometimes more than one someone). I still recall the moment of enlightenment, in high school, when I realized that I could say "yes" to sexual exploration, even though society told me to say no. Despite being a shy egghead with world-class myopia who thought she was fat, I had managed to accumulate a pretty wide range of sexual experience by the time I got married. And I'm happy to report that, thanks to my husband's open mind and naughty imagination, my sexual adventures didn't end at that point! Meanwhile, I was born writing. Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration, though according to family apocrypha, I was talking at six months. Certainly, I started writing as soon as I learned how to form the letters. I penned my first poem when I was seven. While I was in elementary school I wrote more poetry, stories, at least two plays (one about the Beatles and one about the Goldwater-Johnson presidential contest, believe it or not), and a survival manual for Martians (really). I continued to write my way through high school, college, and grad school, mostly angst-ridden poems about love and desire, although I also remember working on a ghost story/romance novel (wish I could find that now). I've written song lyrics, meeting minutes, marketing copy, software manuals, research reports, a cookbook, a self-help book, and a five hundred page dissertation. For years, I wrote erotic stories and kinky fantasies for myself and for lovers' entertainment. I never considered trying to publish my work until I picked up a copy of Portia da Costa's Black Lace classic Gemini Heat while sojourning in Istanbul. My first reaction was "Wow!". It was possibly the most arousing thing I'd ever read, intelligent, articulate, diverse and wonderfully transgressive. My second reaction was, "I'll bet I could write a book like that." I wrote the first three chapters of Raw Silk and submitted a proposal to Black Lace, almost on a lark. I was astonished when they accepted it. The book was published in April 1999, and all at once, I was an official erotic author. A lot has changed since my Black Lace days. But I still get a thrill from writing erotica. It's a never-ending challenge, trying to capture the emotional complexities of a sexual encounter. I'm far less interested in what happens to my characters' bodies than in what goes on in their heads.


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