Blissemas: some festive femdom and an extra prize

Happy Blissemas! Yes, the season’s well under way now so this fun online smut party is running once again, with some great names having already shared their Christmassy/Midwinterish/Yuletiding ideas.

As well as any comment on this post automatically putting you in the prize draw for a Kindle Fire 7, I’ve got an extra prize lined up.If you fancy this set of wineglass charms, made by the fab Maleficent Things, just comment on this post and tell me who you would like to find underneath your Christmas tree. (Just this once, no one will get a slap if they say Mr Grey…)

I’ll pick a winner by some or other arcane, random method on Monday 18th December, so there is a chance of the charms making their way to their new home by Christmas Eve.

Yeah, Christmas trees. I like Christmas trees and Christmas cards, so I wrote a short piece of seasonal filth (which may or may not stay in the current WIP, much of which is about a dominatrix and her household) which involves a Christmas card photo shoot and a tree which isn’t really a tree…

Every year, there was a Christmas card from Valley Chateau. Sometimes, an artist was commissioned to produce an appropriate image; sometimes, in the past, a full-scale photoshoot had been arranged, with care and thought being given to printers’ deadlines. These days, everything was easier, and Miss Juliet hadn’t really given the matter much thought until she woke up on a bright clear morning at the beginning of December and found there had been a light snowfall overnight.

 Shortly after lunch, everything was ready: the big wooden cross brought up from the dungeon and positioned at one end of the terrace, with the thickly-berried holly tree behind it. The light would be at the perfect angle in about ten minutes, as long as they all did what they were told. Not that Juliet expected any disobedience or silly questions. She accepted and sometimes relished bratting in play space, but anyone who became part of the household – or even just a regular visitor – knew the times and places when unquestioning obedience was expected.

 There were only Philip, Miles and Rory living there full-time in houseboy roles at present, and Rory was one of the few she’d ever had who was really camera shy to the extent they had agreed that appearing in any Valley Chateau visual media was a hard limit. This meant that, on any shoot day, he would take care of all the props, the fetching and carrying, and the ensuring that everyone had whatever they needed at any given moment. Miles was willing, but she’d played hard with him the night before and he was a little too marked up at present, so Philip would be the one at the centre of Miss Juliet’s composition on this occasion, to which he had happily consented.

Rory and Miles were draping green tinsel over and around the cross. Gerald was encouraging them to add even more. Over the years, they had brought in and used a variety of photographers and camera crew, but these days Gerald quite often fulfilled the role, if it was something quick and relatively simple. Gerald lived to do what made Miss Juliet’s life easier: that was the agreement. His role in the household was generally considered equivalent to that of a butler, though Juliet – and Gerald himself – were aware that some people liked to believe that his position was something other than that. Such people were rarely invited to Valley Chateau more than once, of course.

Philip was wearing Miss Juliet’s gold velvet robe, an honour he was clearly delighted with, and sitting in one of the armchairs next to the open French windows. A fire had been lit in the fireplace, and the heating turned on and up high to keep the temperature acceptable and the room relatively cosy: though the day was still, there was an increasingly vicious bite to the air, and the snow was freezing where it lay. As ordered, Philip was naked beneath the robe, and would shed it on command. Juliet had dressed herself in a wine-red frock coat over matching trousers and Victorian-style buttoned boots: she had never given a moment’s thought to any kind of Mother Christmas cliché.

She glanced up at the sky, and then across the terrace, to where Miles had set the box of glass tree ornaments on the little metal table.

‘Ready, everyone?’  She didn’t need to clap her hands for their attention, or even raise her voice. Philip jumped to his feet and shrugged off the velvet robe, laying it carefully over the back of the chair. He came out onto the terrace, clearly trying not to show how much of a shock it was to emerge into the snowy garden, naked and barefoot. Rory quickly scuttled back inside, to be ready with the robe the minute the shoot was finished. Miles, still in his black shirt and trousers, stood to one side as Philip made his way to the cross and positioned himself in front of it, raising his arms and pressing his back against the tinsel-covered vertical beam.

Juliet paused for a moment to admire him: it was no less than he deserved, even though she knew the pictures needed to be finished quickly so the poor boy didn’t catch his death of cold.  She had reserved two long ropes of tinsel: now she used them to bind him lightly in place, one around each arm and the two trailing ends crossing behind his back and then snaking round his waist. He smiled at her, bravely, and she suspected his teeth were chattering.

‘Miles.’ She didn’t look at the other houseboy, but knew she had his full attention. ‘Take off your shirt and come here. Philip needs a little… encouragement to bear the cold.’

It hadn’t been part of her original instructions, but Miss Juliet was known for her ability to adapt, to introduce spontaneity into even the simplest of performances. Equally, houseboys, guests and occasional visiting submissives were always made aware they could safeword at any time, should an unexpected order be unwelcome.

As Miles obediently unbuttoned his shirt, Juliet took a red glass bauble and a single paperclip from the box, and approached her bound and naked houseboy. She used the paperclip to attach the bauble to Philip’s nipple ring, then bent her head to suck, fleetingly, on his other nipple, which was hard and erect with a combination of cold and excitement. His cock, on the other hand, hung limply against his thigh and this was the reason she’d decided to change her plans.

No words were needed: Miss Juliet commanded Miles by means of hand gestures. He dropped to his knees by the cross and reached for Philip’s cock, stroking and rubbing it. Philip responded almost immediately, not least because Miss Juliet stayed close by and continued to pinch and tweak the nipple not decorated with a Christmas ornament.

Miles raised himself a little on his knees so he could take Philip’s cock in his mouth. Juliet couldn’t resist grabbing a fistful of her dear little cocksucker’s thick, curly black hair and twisting, but she was still aware of the situation.

‘Gerald…’ she said, softly but clearly enough for him to hear. ‘Gerald, I believe we’re ready.’

‘On a count of three, Ma’am,’ came the calm, quintessentially British tones. ‘One… Two…’

Miss Juliet stepped back and half-turned, smiling her cruellest smile in the direction of the camera. Miles knelt back down, leaving one hand uplifted to touch Philip’s inner thigh.

The shutter clicked, and Philip came.