Marquis de Mayfair’s 12 Kinks of Christmas
Introduction
Greetings, my curious kinky companions, the Marquis de Mayfair at your beck and call. Or perhaps, it is you who are at mine, for a dozen delicious days, I shall indulge you in a tale woven from the most luxurious of threads—a story rich with sensuality, discovery, and the type of festive frolics that would make even a poinsettia blush.
Now, pay close attention, for I am about to begin my fabulous freaky fable of the '12 Kinks of Christmas.' This is no ordinary winter’s tale—it is one of the corruption of innocence, of steamy passion and luxurious licentiousness, a story that will stir your senses and ignite passions as fiercely as a roaring log fire in this most sensual of seasons.
It all began as the snow fell softly across London early one Christmas morning. Inside a grand Georgian townhouse, nestled in the heart of Mayfair, a young couple—Alexander and Elara—awoke to the warmth of their luxurious home. The house, filled with the charm of its storied past, whispered secrets through its creaking floors and ornate details. They stirred in their lavish four-poster bed, cocooned in love, sharing their gentle morning ritual—a kiss, a laugh, and their cherished words: "A hug in the morning, a hug in the evening, and the rest of the day is easy."
With joy, they strolled hand in hand down two floors to the kitchen, where they prepared their traditional Christmas breakfast—scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, each dish paired with a flute of champagne. The festive air was light, their love for each other as warm as the heat from their Aga stove.
Their grand living room, draped in festive splendour, was crowned by a towering Christmas tree adorned with mementos of their seven years together: a delicate Eiffel Tower, the Empire State Building, a grand Big Ben, and a miniature London taxi carrying a Christmas tree. The couple exchanged gifts, laughing and sharing tender embraces.
But then, as the morning sun shone through the large sash windows and bathed the room in golden light, their eyes fell upon one remaining present, a large box—one they hadn’t placed beneath the tree. It was wrapped in deep royal blue paper with a golden card that gleamed as if enchanted by a spell. Elara picked up the card, her brow furrowing as she read aloud a poem:
“My gift to you, are the 12 Kinks of Christmas,
Each will release hidden passions to experience,
For once a mind’s expanded, it cannot contract,
And when kink awakens, there's no going back.
Surrender to sensation, don’t resist and don’t fight,
Twelve luxuries I bring, each an erotic delight,
With love and allure, enjoy this affair,
To pleasures untold, the Marquis de Mayfair.”
She looked up at Alexander, her expression both puzzled and intrigued. "The Marquis de Mayfair... wasn’t that the gentleman who once owned this house? But how on earth did his gift find its way under our tree?"
With a glance exchanged between them, a current of excitement stirred the air. They set aside their other gifts and carefully unwrapped the mysterious box. It was a beautiful chest, the size of a its black exterior etched with an elegant design. The golden clasps holding the lid shut shimmered, as though daring them to open it.
Their breath hitched as they lifted the lid, and they both gasped. Nestled in the crimson velvet interior was an array of gleaming treasures—objects of the finest craftsmanship, each one exuding a luxurious allure. There were leather restraints, both for wrists and ankles, adorned with golden hardware that caught the light. Next to them, a leather hogtie and a sleek black choker with a matching leash lay waiting, the scent of fine Italian leather rich and intoxicating.
Elara’s fingers grazed the surface of the soft leather, her touch slow, deliberate, as if the leather was inviting her in. The sensation sent a shiver up her spine—a promise of discovery.
As they removed the top shelf of the box, a second layer was revealed. This held a black ostrich feather mounted on a golden handle, a large leather paddle, and a lavish flogger, each tool begging to be touched, explored, and used in ways they had never imagined.
Finally, they lifted the final shelf to unveil five golden objects: a delicate spoon-like object, a small wheel with sharp spikes around the edge, a blindfold, and long elasticated golden clamps. The golden spoon caught Elara’s eye first, its purpose a mystery yet to be revealed. She held it gently, running her fingers along its smooth surface as her imagination began to stir. Each item seemed to tell a story, each whispering a promise of pleasures untold.
The couple exchanged a look. They laughed in astonishment. Both of them were traditional when it came to sex, they both had adventurous spirits and had travelled the world together on many holidays but their bedroom had always remained a place of safety and tenderness, they had never experimented with toys or bondage.
They didn’t need to speak; the air between them crackled with unspoken understanding. The Marquis had left them a gift that called to something deep inside them—a desire they hadn’t known lay dormant. The chest had become an invitation, a doorway to a new world of discovery, sensuality, and luxury.
They placed the chest back under the tree, realising they were running late and needed to prepare for their families' arrival for Christmas lunch. The afternoon was filled with laughter, drinks, and a lively game of charades. By the time their families left, both were tipsy and exhausted. Elara headed upstairs for a long, hot bath, while Alexander changed into his fine dressing gown and pyjama bottoms, switched on the sitting room TV catching the start of The Wizard of Oz, his stomach aching from too much figgy pudding and brandy sauce and before Dorothy had left Kansas he had dozed off.
As he slept, his dreams were haunted by a deep English voice, repeating over and over, “Once a mind is expanded, it cannot contract. Surrender to sensation, surrender to sensation, surrender to sensation…”
Meanwhile, in the ornate roll-top bath, Elara had slipped into a drowsy half-awake state. The warm relaxed her body as her mind drifted, strange images and thoughts danced in her imagination, silhouettes of a couple embracing and kissing, she felt a growing sense of arousal between her legs and as the steam rose from the bath, to her unfocused eyes it seemed to form the words: Surrender to sensation.
Her gaze fixed on the steamy text as her hand moved instinctively to touch herself, the words echoing in her mind: Surrender to sensation, surrender, surrender. The heat of the bath, the gentle motion of her fingers, the interlocking figures in her mind and the weightlessness from the deep water was like an intoxicating aphrodisiac that made her feel lightheaded and sexually charged.
As her orgasm was building, Alexander burst into the bathroom. “I want to play,” he said, his voice thick with intent. In his right hand, he held the leather choker from the Marquis’s chest. “I want to play with you now, Elara.”
Spontaneously, words bubbled up from the depths of her arousal and for the first time in her life, she said the words… “Yes, Sir.”
Chapter 1 - The Awakening
He felt alive, like a man possessed by newfound confidence. His love for Elara was more vivid than ever, and his natural desire to protect and provide seemed supercharged. Yet, alongside this, he felt suddenly masterful and dominant. He was an accomplished academic with a successful career as a private equity manager, he was not a weak man but this was a new level of confidence and assertiveness he was experiencing. In their relationship, he had always been a peer and equal, a companion, never brutish or aggressive. But this surge of energy coursing through his veins made him feel unstoppable. It was a raw form of masculinity, a rush of testosterone unlike any he had felt at the gym. More powerful than these intense feelings, however, was a singular focus: he wanted Elara, and nothing else mattered. His mind was laser-focused on that one goal.
The bath was elevated in the centre of the bathroom on a raised platform, a showcase design that had captivated them when buying the house. The warmth from the underfloor heating radiated through the marble tiles beneath his bare feet as he approached Elara with slow, deliberate steps. Her naked body was submerged beneath the steaming, foamy water, the soft bubbles concealing her except for her head and raised knees.
“Alexander, you surprised me,” she said bashfully.
He ignored her comment, his eyes locked on hers, like a lion stalking its prey. She stayed silent, her heart pounding in anticipation. She could see the definition of his athletic frame through his fine silk robe. She bit down on her lip, she had never seen him look so captivating, and she suddenly felt vulnerable and uncharacteristically submissive.
He circled the bath slowly, never breaking eye contact, his movements deliberate. He stopped behind her, standing at the head of the bath where her head rested on the curved rim. Gently, he put the collar down and began stroking her wet hair, lifting her long, dark blonde strands over her ears and letting them cascade over the curve of the tub. Droplets of water dripped from her hair, landing on the raised marble platform creating a small puddle.
”You look so beautiful," he said as he knelt behind her, still stroking her long, wet hair, his chin hovering just above her forehead. She rolled her eyes upward to look at him, but could only sense the slight movement of his mouth, as he was just out of her sight.
"Thank you," she said.
”Thank you, what?" he whispered, his tone firm yet playful, as though coaxing her to correct herself.
She paused. This was unlike him—he had never played mind games or acted this way before. But her feeling of submission and the way he positioned himself so confidently behind her, stirred something primal inside her. The response immediately formed in her mind.
”Thank you, Sir," she replied, exhaling deeply.
As the words left her mouth, she felt a profound sense of release, as though all her stress and burdens had fallen away, unburdening herself as if she was confessing sins in a church.
”Good girl,” he said.
For both of them, this simple phrase struck deep chords. He had never spoken to Elara in this way before—the only terms of affection he'd ever used were "darling" or "dear." But as these words left his mouth, he felt a potent mix of paternal care, sexual dominance, along with a newfound sense of ownership that both unsettled and emboldened him.
For Elara, the words "good girl" hit her like a tornado, lifting her in a whirlwind of memories—childhood, school, her father, lovers, Christmases, exam results—all cascading through her mind at once. It was almost impossible to process the sudden gusts of emotion: safety, desire, pride, freedom, and longing. The intensity surged out of her in a gasp, accompanied by a soft smile and a warm, melting sensation that spread through every part of her being. In that moment, she could finally let go. Somehow, layers of unconscious self-preservation and the unrelenting pressure she placed on herself seemed to dissolve, leaving behind only a sense of childlike tranquillity and wonderment at the enchanted road that lay ahead
Alexander, even to this day, could never fully explain how instinctively he knew what to do next. He picked up the collar and placed it around Elara’s bare neck, moving slowly, like a vampire savouring the approach to a victim’s throat before the bite. The soft Italian leather wrapped snugly around her slender neck as he gently moved her damp, thick hair aside to access the buckle. With deliberate care, he slid the golden pin into the last remaining hole, just above her spine. Then, in a low voice, he asked, “Who do you belong to?”
”To you.”
”To me?” he replied, feigning surprise. “Let’s try that again, shall we.” he whispered, his mouth so close to her ear that she could feel the warmth of his breath.
“Who do you belong to?” he repeated, this time more seductively.
“I belong to you, Sir,” she responded, her voice steady.
“Good girl.” A shiver of excitement coursed through both of them.
As Alexander fastened the buckle, he asked, “And what can I do to you?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, she answered, “Anything you want… Sir.”
Her words sent a jolt of arousal through him, making him instantly hard. The permission she had granted ignited a powerful sense of authority within him, and a multitude of devious possibilities flooded his mind. His erection strained against his pyjama bottoms, and with a deliberate motion, he slipped off his silk robe, letting it fall to the floor.
”Anything I want?” he asked, his tone playful yet edged with a deeper implication that anything truly meant anything. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Sir. You can do anything you want to me. I’m yours,” she replied, her voice unwavering.
Alexander’s gaze was drawn to the golden O-ring at the front of her collar, resting just below Elara’s chin. The Cheyenne-rouge leather contrasted beautifully against the gleaming metal, its rich, muted tone echoing the subtle flush of her swollen labia submerged beneath the bathwater. The collar seemed to embody her vulnerability, inviting him to explore the depths of her submission.
He slipped the long belt from his dressing gown and looped it around the leg of the bath. Holding each end, he raised the silk cord around either side of her hair and threaded both ends through the O-ring of her collar. As they crossed over, he slowly but firmly pulled, the tension gradually increasing. As the distance between the bath leg and the collar shortened, her neck was drawn up, and her head tilted back over the rim of the bath. Her back arched to compensate, and her breasts rose above the water's surface. She released an anxious breath.
“It’s okay,” Alexander reassured her, tying the taut belt in a neat bow to hold it in place. Elara was now completely immobilised.
Alexander rose upright on his knees, the new pyramid at the front of his pyjamas parting Elara's wet hair and pressing against the back of the bath. With her head tilted back over the rim, for the first time since they’d spoken, she saw him—his bare chest towering above her like an eclipse. He placed his hands on her shoulders, pausing to admire the newly exposed curve of her body.
He noticed a large freckle at the top of her chest, directly in the centre. His hand instinctively moved there, resting gently before lifting until only the tips of his fingers hovered above her skin. With his right index finger, he slowly traced a circle around the freckle, savouring the feel of her beneath him. His fingertips and eyes drank in the sensation, mesmerised by her beauty—he had never seen anything so perfect.
His fingers explored her face, the collar, and the smooth expanse of her chest with the lightest touch, his movements unhurried, as if time itself had slowed. There was no rush to reach her breasts; he was content to worship every inch of her damp skin. He cherished her as one would a masterpiece, appreciating her with the same reverence as he would a Monet or a pre-Raphaelite painting.
After a while, his fingers glided to her nipples, which were now hard and firm. Playfully, he pinched them before clasping them between his thumb and index finger. He squeezed, slowly increasing the pressure until she let out an audible response, signalling that pressure was too much.
”What are you going to do to me?” she asked, her words struggling to escape through the compression of gentle asphyxiation.
He placed an extended finger over her lips. "Shhh, shhh. You’re mine, and I’m going to do whatever I like to you. Do you trust me?"
“Yes, Sir, completely,” she replied softly.
She tried adjusting her neck, which was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable strapped against the hard metal rim of the roll-top bath. Yet, her helplessness only fueled her submissive desire. Her entire body was laid bare before him, completely at his mercy, and there was nothing she could do about it. The slight pain in her neck intensified the moment—it felt wrong, surely this was wrong, she thought, but her pussy twinged in rebellious disagreement.
He started to stand, she felt his hardness drag across the back of her stationary head, the pressure increasing as he rose. It was like a coil tightening, and when he finally stood upright, his pyjama bottoms flicked forward like a spring uncoiling. He rested the length of himself across her face, the darkness of his trousers and the firmness beneath settling over her like a heavy velvet curtain, enclosing her senses completely.
He pulled his pyjamas down, revealing his bare skin and fully extended cock. His balls now rested on her forehead, and his shaft lay across her nose, hanging above her mouth like a diving board.
“Lick it,” he commanded.
She pushed her tongue out, but the angle was wrong—his cock was too far away. “It’s too far,” she said.
”Try harder,” he insisted.
She tilted her chin upwards, trying to comply, but the collar and belt pulled tighter on her neck. “Harder,” he said, his voice firm. “Or you’ll be punished.”
Elara hated to fail at anything. Determined, she stretched her tongue further, struggling to lift her head despite the restraint. “Try harder,” he teased, his tone almost mocking. That was it—she wasn’t going to be beaten. With a surge of resolve, she pulled her hand out of the bath, grabbed his cock, and bent it into her mouth.
After a few brief moments of oral pleasure, he abruptly pulled away and moved to the foot of the bath. Sliding out of her line of sight, he left her feeling exposed. Elara could only catch glimpses of the top of his head as he loomed just beyond her gaze. A sudden awareness crept over her—the vulnerability of her parted legs in the water. Instinctively, she began to draw her knees together, a flicker of apprehension rising within her as she sensed his next move.
His hands seized her knees, gripping firmly as he spread them apart with deliberate force.
“You are mine, and I’m going to have you. Keep your legs spread,” he ordered.
Elara complied.
Alexander then stepped into the bath, his naked figure towering over her. He bent down to grab her ankles, lifting them out of the water and draping each leg over the edge of the tub.
The shift caused her backside to slip, and the collar tightened around her throat, pulling as if she were being prepared for the gallows. Sensing her discomfort, he leaned in and spoke softly, “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything bad happen to you. If you’re unhappy with anything, just say ‘stop,’ and I’ll stop immediately. Sweetie, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to bring you pleasure. But I need to know—are you okay with this?”
She didn’t hesitate in saying, “Yes, Sir.” The excitement coursing through her was undeniable, and she knew Alex would never harm her. His reassuring tone, combined with the intensity of her arousal, kept any fear at bay. She wanted this—she was fully aware they were on the same page, eager to see what would come next. But what she didn’t expect was that Alex had the capability to take things even further than she could have ever imagined.
Alex dropped to his knees as water poured furiously over the sides of the tub, flooding the floor below, but neither of them cared. He lifted her hips slightly, positioning himself, and with a firm yet gentle motion, he entered her. She was so lubricated that the soapy water did nothing to hinder the smoothness of his entry. She felt every inch of him as he slid deep inside her, pressing forwards until he could go no further.
He paused, not thrusting, just holding himself fully inside her. Then, with deliberate care, he reached into the bath and pulled the plug, lifting it in the air for her to see. She understood immediately—the water would drain quickly, and as it did, her body would sink further into the bath, increasing the pressure on her neck.
”I’ll untie the bow around your neck when you cum,” he said. “If you don’t cum quickly as I’m fucking you, you’ll choke.”
Neither of them could quite believe this was happening. They had never even spanked each other before, and now Alex was giving her an ultimatum—either she climaxed, or she would slowly choke as the water drained from the bath.
He began moving inside her, the steady rhythm building as the water surged wildly around them. Waves formed with each thrust, growing stronger, more erratic.
At first, Elara felt overwhelmed—by the water, the splashing sounds, the pressure on her neck, and the relentless rhythm of his body. It was all too much. But then, as he thrust deeper, he murmured, "Come on, sweetie, be a good girl and cum for me." His words grounded her, pulling her into the present moment. Her new submissive mindset tuned into him completely.
“Be a good girl and cum for me," he repeated, his voice rough with desire. The thrusting intensified, each movement sending splashes of water crashing from one end of the bath to the other. Her body rocked helplessly with the waves, the force lifting her up and down as she gripped the sides of the tub for balance. But the pressure on her neck increased as the water levels fell, tightening the restraint around her throat.
Alex thrust harder, his movements becoming more urgent, more frenzied. He could feel her tightening around his cock, her body contracting in response. The water continued to churn, her body sliding helplessly through the tub as the intensity reached its peak. His thrusts became erratic, manic, each one sending another surge of water over the edge. His orgasm built inside him, unstoppable, as the bath and her body both writhed beneath him.
”Cum for me, baby, be a good girl,” he growled, his voice rough with urgency.
They were both past the point of no return. Alex's body demanded release, the tension in his balls unbearable. He thrust harder, faster, each motion a desperate attempt to release the pressure building inside him. Meanwhile, Elara’s mind spiraled into overdrive. All she could hear was good girl echoing through her head, the phrase looping in rhythm with each powerful thrust. Her throat burned, compressed tightly in the collar, lightheadedness creeping in. Deep inside, her pussy was relentlessly pounded, the stimulation overwhelming her senses.
She screamed, the words spilling out uncontrollably. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh…”
“Fuuuck!”
Their climaxes came simultaneously. Alex thrust so hard it felt as though his entire body was pouring into her, his balls pumping in a seemingly endless wave of pleasure, his head thrown back in a primal release. Beneath him, Elara’s body convulsed, her orgasm ripping through her from head to toe like a volcanic eruption, each spasm an explosion of pure ecstasy. Her entire body trembled uncontrollably, caught in the throes of delight, her mind lost in the molten flow of blissful submission.
The moment seemed to stretch on endlessly for both of them. Alex was the first to return to the present, and with a swift tug, he pulled the bow loose, the cords slipping free from the O-ring. Elara slid down into the bath, her body relaxing completely, eyes rolling back as she panted and groaned in total exhaustion.
Alex moved over her, their bodies still connected, and they kissed deeply, their tongues softly massaging each other in a shared celebration of the moment. Each kiss felt like a silent thank you, a mutual acknowledgment of the incredible joy they had just given one another.
After what felt like an eternity of tender kissing, the weight of their bodies reminded them that the bath was now completely empty. They looked at each other, breathless and blissfully content, their eyes filled with happy bewilderment at what they had just experienced.
Alex unfastened the collar and handed it to Elara. "Well," she said with a sly grin, "if that was the first kink of Christmas, I can't wait to complete all twelve!"
“Me too," Alex chuckled, glancing around the flooded bathroom. "But judging by the state of this place, we won’t have a house left by New Year."
They both laughed, pulling each other into a warm embrace. This was a Christmas Day they would never forget. And somewhere, high above the snow-covered rooftops of Mayfair, a wisp of cigar smoke curled lazily into the cold night air. The Marquis, it seemed, was just getting started.
Chapter 2 - Chain of command
Greetings once again, my sensual sensation seekers. The Marquis of Mayfair here to indulge your voyeuristic voracity by continuing my sumptuous seasonal story. Ah yes, we last left our dear Alexander and Elara in their lovers embrace, basking in the aftermath of the newfound pleasure my luxurious gift delivered, both blissfully unaware of what truly lies ahead. You see, the first kink of Christmas was but a gentle awakening—a mere prelude to what’s to come.
But I must warn you, dear readers, this next chapter in our tale may switch in ways neither of our lovers expects. Power, after all, like fortune has a habit of shifting when one least anticipates it? So, settle in, as I continue this tantalising tale, for even the finest chain can conceal an unexpected kink...
Elara’s eyes blinked open as she slowly awoke, feeling as though she had slept for a thousand years. She was so well-rested. As she turned to reach for Alexander for their usual morning hug, the scenes from the previous night’s events flooded her mind. A sudden, profound feeling unsettled her, and she hesitated, refraining from waking him.
What was this feeling, and why couldn’t she hug Alex as she always did? She gently slid out of bed and crept out of the bedroom, wearing only an oversized T-shirt and her cosy over-the-knee socks. The winter chill caught her breath as she silently descended the staircase to the kitchen below.
She selected Latte from the coffee machine, which began to grind and whir into action. She cut a thick slice of sourdough and popped it into the toaster. Taking the honey from the pantry, she grabbed a small silver teaspoon, opened the jar, and twirled the honey around the spoon, bringing it slowly to her lips like a lollipop. The sweet taste and the rich aroma of freshly ground beans briefly distracted her from the inner turmoil she was feeling.
The encounter with the collar in the bath had undoubtedly been the most intense sexual experience of her life. She couldn’t believe how Alex’s words, spoken with such power and authority, had penetrated her as deeply as his thrusts. Despite some fleeting thoughts about whether what they were doing was wrong, there was nothing that truly troubled her. Alex had been perfectly clear—they could stop at any time, and she never felt threatened. In fact, she had never been so aroused, and she certainly couldn’t remember ever cumming as hard as she had last night.
So why was she so unsettled? What was this strange feeling of disempowerment, and why couldn’t she bring herself to touch Alex?
The toaster popped, but she suddenly craved a cigarette not food. There was a packet in the kitchen island drawer. She didn’t smoke often, only indulging when her best friend, Faye, came over for a bottle of wine and a gossip, always careful not to inhale at all.
She grabbed the lighter and a slim cigarette, heading towards the garden door. Even in her current state, she couldn’t tolerate smoking indoors. Reaching up to the wooden hook to grab the back door key, she paused, perplexed. The key wasn’t there. It was always there, with its large Tiffany-shaped novelty diamond keyring that lit up and sparkled when lifted—a playful reminder from her to Alex that he hadn’t proposed yet. But now it was gone and in its place, something even more peculiar—a long golden dog lead was hanging where it should be.
She had seen it before, but where? Grabbing the leather handle, she felt the softness of the fine leather and instantly recalled where she’d seen it—yesterday, in that chest from the Marquis de Mayfair.
Inspecting it more closely, she noticed a golden clasp at the bottom. But why was it here? Her mind drifted back to the golden O-ring on the collar Alex had placed around her neck the night before. Ah, the collar comes with a leash, she thought. In that moment, a lightning bolt of clarity struck, discharging her unsettled emotions. She knew exactly how to resolve her unease. A sly smile crept across her face—finally, she had a reason to unpack those sexy Louboutins she never thought she’d wear.
Alexander stirred from his deep sleep, stretching his body like a starfish across the Egyptian cotton sheets, letting out a lion-like yawn. He reached for Elara, but she wasn’t there. Surprised, he sat up, only to be jolted by a sudden restriction around his neck.
“Where do you think you’re going?” a strict female voice demanded.
Alex turned his head, and the sight before him was both unexpected and spectacular.
Elara stood tall beside the bed, her dark brown hair swept up into a sleek bun, accentuating the curve of her neck. Her lips were painted in a bold, seductive red—the shade Alexander loved. She wore a crisp white blouse, unbuttoned just enough to reveal the delicate black lace of her push-up bra, which made her breasts look fuller, almost spilling out in a way that demanded attention. Her pinstripe skirt was hitched slightly, allowing Alexander a tantalising glimpse of her black stocking tops. And there they were—those unseen 6-inch black Louboutin heels, the ones Faye had convinced her to buy after one too many glasses of champagne at Selfridges last Christmas.
“Well, don’t just lie there with your jaw hanging open,” she said, tugging the leash firmly in her hand.
Once again, Alexander felt the pull on his neck. Somehow, without waking him, Elara had fastened the collar from the night before around his neck. His hands instinctively rose to confirm it, fingers brushing against the cool golden chain. It dangled from his throat, the small links leading up, directly into Elara’s firm grasp.
“You look insatiable,” Alex said, partly hoping the compliment would snap Elara out of this bold new persona she had adopted, and partly because she truly did look like a sexual predator ready to devour him.
“I fucking know I do!” Elara replied, her tone dripping with uncharacteristic arrogance. Despite her successful career as head buyer for a luxury goods retailer, she had always been modest and unassuming, never one to use crude or profane language.
Alex was speechless, completely taken aback by this side of her he’d never seen before. But even in his shock, he could feel his body reacting, his arousal already building in response to the charged energy between them.
“Now, come with me. I have a job for you,” Elara commanded, giving the lead another firm tug.
“Stop pulling so hard,” Alex said with a laugh, still uncertain if he was truly enjoying this new, assertive side of Elara. Yet the sight of her, so intentionally dressed and in control, was enough to encourage him to play along.
“Out of that bed and on your knees,” she ordered, her voice sharp.
“I’m not crawling on my knees—I’m not wearing any clothes! Remember? My pyjamas got soaked,” Alexander chuckled, dismissing her command with a playful grin.
“You will get out of that bed and follow your goddess on your knees,” Elara demanded.
“Goddess?” Alex repeated, his tone filled with bemusement.
Elara was fully committed to her new dominant persona. She didn’t waver for a second. During the twenty minutes it took her to get ready, waves of sexual confidence surged through her as she watched her transformation in the mirror—from the unsettled, tired Elara in nightclothes to a smouldering temptress. The bra, the lipstick, the shoes, and the golden leash—all of it created layer upon layer of self-assurance and sexual dominance.
“You will address me as Goddess, and you will get on your fucking hands and knees and follow me downstairs,” she commanded.
Alex, overwhelmed by her powerful performance, felt compelled to obey. Without a word, he climbed out of bed and onto his hands and knees.
Elara led him forward, the leash binding him to her, and as he crawled, Alex couldn’t take his eyes off the sight in front of him. Elara’s long, silk-clad legs moved gracefully, her backside perfectly round and pert, her hips swaying hypnotically with each step. The red soles of her heels, framing the pointed stilettos, seemed to mirror the flames of passion burning inside him—an intoxicating mix of arousal and humiliation. She truly looked like a goddess, and he was ready to worship her.
He half-expected her to stop when they reached the stairs, but Elara, without hesitation, simply lifted the chain over her shoulder and began descending smoothly, not offering a single word of warning. She expected him to follow as commanded. Despite the challenge, Alex managed to crawl down after her, feeling as unsteady as a partially trained puppy.
Elara strode into the kitchen, her heels creating a metallic click as they struck the Indian stone floor. The sound reverberated in Alex’s head like a metronome, each tap of her heel a conductor’s cue, orchestrating his arousal with every downward beat.
Elara approached the breakfast bar on the far side of the large kitchen island. She pushed two stools apart, then turned and leaned back against the island, the stools standing on either side of her like pillars.
“I have a job for you,” she said, her voice low and commanding. “Come closer.” She leaned down, unclipping the leash from his collar as she gazed directly into his large brown eyes. “Get the sugar bowl and cut me a lemon in half,” she instructed. To her surprise, he didn’t utter a word, immediately complying with her wishes.
When he returned with the items, she took them from him and clipped the leash back onto the collar. “Get back down and kneel upright,” she commanded.
Elara unfastened her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. The black lines of her suspenders came into view, and Alexander’s gaze locked onto the intensely erotic sight right before his eyes. She wasn’t wearing panties, her smooth, waxed pelvis perfectly framed by the suspenders. His pupils dilated, and a wave of complete surrender washed over him, as though her power had drained all his strength. She was Delilah, and he, her Samson.
Elara hoisted herself up onto the granite island worktop, crossing her legs, deliberately concealing the mesmerising sight from Alex’s view.
Taking the sugar bowl, she sprinkled the white crystals over her leg, the grains clinging to the silk of her stocking tops, cascading down her calf and onto her black shoe. Her leg looked as though she had been in a fresh snow storm.
“Now, be a good boy and clean the sugar off my leg,” she commanded.
Alex looked perplexed, and attempted to blow it off.
“Not by blowing, silly boy. With your tongue,” she teased. “And if you do it well, I might let you lick all the way to the top… for a surprise.”
Alex smirked, a devious grin spreading across his face. He liked this game. Starting at the very tip of her black leather shoe, he began to slowly, sensually lick the sugar off. Almost immediately, he became engrossed in the act, carefully holding her foot as he moved his head around, ensuring he licked every angle of her shoe.
Once the shoe was clean, he felt the chain around his neck tighten, pulling him upward. Obediently, he began to rise, kissing, sucking, and licking the sugar from Elara’s silky stockings. The sensation of the silk against his tongue was strangely comforting, and the sweetness of the sugar heightened his arousal. His erection became fully apparent and a warm clear liquid started to collect at the tip.
She kept the chain taut as he worked his way up to the top of her stockings, his tongue gliding from the silk to the bare warmth of her thigh.
“Well done, good boy,” she purred, pushing his head back so he sat upright on his knees, as if in prayer.
Confidently and with a smooth movement, Elara uncrossed her legs and rested each foot on the stools beside her, fully opening herself and revealing her bare pussy directly to Alex. This reveal blew his mind, he couldn’t recall a time she had ever presented herself to him this way. His cock throbbed painfully due to how hard it had become.
“I said I had a surprise for you, didn’t I?” she teased.
“Yes,” he replied eagerly, his voice tight with anticipation.
“Yesterday, you were mean to me and said I had to cum before the bathwater emptied. Well, you're not the only one who can create bittersweet moments. Do you want to lick my pussy?” she asked, her tone both teasing and commanding.
“Oh god, yes,” Alex pleaded, his voice thick with desire.
“OK, so you’ve had the sweet—now here’s the bitter.” She picked up the freshly cut lemon and squeezed it over her pelvis, the sharp juice running down her pussy. She squeezed as hard as she could, then repeated the action with the other half, until her skin was dripping with the tart liquid.
“If you want it so badly, then lick it all up—but don’t lick inside,” she instructed, tugging on his leash to bring his face closer, thrusting her pelvis forward to ensure his mouth made full contact with her skin.
“Now lick!”
Alex began to lick, his face contorting slightly at the bitter taste, especially after the sweetness of the sugar he had just consumed. Regardless, driven by the intense throbbing in his cock and how turned on he was, he lapped up the lemon juice as eagerly as a dog drinking water after a walk in the sun.
Elara giggled at the sensation—it almost tickled—but every so often, he would lick her in a way that sent waves of pleasure rippling through her body, like the first spray of water from a showerhead.
This sparked an idea. When he finished, she turned on the island, picking up the honey, spoon, and cigarette from earlier. Leading Alex on his knees she proceeded to the lounge, he never took his eyes off her bare backside.
The lounge exuded refined luxury and festive warmth, perfectly in keeping with the Georgian grandeur of their Mayfair home. The centrepiece, a large marble fireplace, was adorned with a tasteful garland of pine and gold accents. Two velvet couches, in rich burgundy, faced each other across a sleek, low coffee table, with cashmere throws draped over each arm. The Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, shimmering with soft lights and elegant decorations. As they moved toward the fireplace, Elara bent to strike a match, lighting the kindling beneath the logs. The fire sprang to life as she reclined on the velvet couch, the Christmas tree twinkling behind Alexander's kneeling head, now positioned between her open legs.
She took one of the expensive Hermès cushions, which she had bought with her first annual bonus and she was so proud of it, she carefully placed it under her backside to lift herself up. To Alex’s astonishment, Elara then lit her cigarette and leaned further back into the couch, pushing her bare vagina toward Alex’s face. She reclined her head, took a deep drag from the cigarette, and exhaled upward, like one of Mayfair's iconic chimney pots.
“Now, take the honey and spoon, and drip the honey over your goddess's divine temple, while she relaxes.”
Alex took the jar of honey, unscrewed the lid, and dipped the small teaspoon into the thick, sticky liquid. Lifting the spoon, he let the honey slowly drip across her pelvis, down her labia, and onto each of her inner thighs, being careful not to get any on her stockings or the precious cushion.
She tightened the leash around his neck, pulling his head closer to her glistening pussy. “Now, I want you to lick up all the honey along with my nectar,” she commanded.
Alex got to work, starting with small licks along her inner thighs. Elara lay back, took a drag from her cigarette, and relaxed into the wonderful sensation.
The honey tasted even sweeter coming off Elara’s soft skin. Alex was careful to avoid her pussy at first, focusing on her thighs, listening to her moans as he lapped at her skin. He rolled his tongue up to the top of her pubic bone, then lowered his head, burying himself between her thighs. His tongue reached down below her pussy, where honey had run between her cheeks. He pushed lower and licked in circular movements reaching for her forbidden hole, then he slowly came up moving his tongue to the left side of her vagina, giving a long, purposeful lick from the crease of her backside, straight up the line of her leg, all the way to her belly button.
Elara moaned in pleasure, the sensation of Alex's wet tongue and the sticky honey being licked from her skin was amazing. Tossing the half-smoked cigarette into the crackling fire, she lay back, surrendering to sensation.
Alex removed his mouth from her and repositioned himself closer to the cushion on her right side. Once again, he stretched his tongue out as far as it would go, and with one long, deliberate lick, he rose on his knees, dragging his tongue from her bottom up the side of her vagina and back to her belly button. Elara moaned again, her body responding to the sweet torture.
Alex again dipped the spoon into the honey and this time let it dribble directly onto the centre of her opening. The honey flowed over the top of her clitoral hood, then meandered down each side of her clitoris, rejoining below like the braided channels of a river. It ran between her inner labia, pooling at the base of her perfect pussy before trickling down into the shadows beneath.
He stared for a moment, taking in the sight of her covered in the translucent sheen of yellow honey. Opening his mouth wide, he enveloped the top half of her vagina, gently sucking until her skin began to rise into his mouth filling the vacuum. In the darkness of this space, he carefully flicked his tongue brushing the very tip of her clitoral hood.
Elara responded instantly, a low, humming sound of deep pleasure escaping from her throat. Alex released the suction, then proceeded to lick the honey from the swelling outer walls of her vagina. Then parting her lips with his pointed tongue, he licked the inner walls clean of honey. Only when the honey on the outer labbier was gone did he move lower, pressing his tongue inside her, lifting and scooping the remaining honey as he traced his way up to her clit, he swallowed, then began to slowly suck on it.
For five or six minutes, he continuously stimulated her clit, causing Elara to moan and thrust her hips in a rhythmic, thrusting motion.
For a final time, he poured a spoonful of honey over her entire pussy. This time, burning with passion, he couldn’t resist any longer. He dived straight in, licking fast and ferociously. Putting the jar down, he grabbed her waist and rapidly, noisily, went to work, licking up every drop as if he were a starving man finding food after days of hunger. Elara laughed, the frenzied licking tickling her at first, but soon the overwhelming intensity took over.
“Stop,” she cried out. “Stop, it’s too much!”
Alex smiled and pulled back as Elara sank back into the comfort of the couch. “I’ll go gentle,” he promised. Moving his head back to her, he brought his lips together and blew gently onto her clit, like blowing out a match. Elara moaned in pleasure, and he blew softly, left and right, letting the cooling air dance over her clitoral hood. Elara exhaled in delight, her body completely taking over her mind.
Noticing her response to the change in temperature, Alex took the silver spoon and placed the back of it against Elara's clit. Again, she moaned with enjoyment. Applying gentle pressure, Alex began to rub the cool spoon in slow, circular motions around her clitoris. The contrast of the cold metal against her warm, sensitive skin was a perfect complement to all the recent oral stimulation. As he realised she was becoming further aroused, Alex dipped two fingers into the honey jar, then carefully pushed his golden-coated fingers inside her. She was warm and wet, but the tight muscles of her vagina resisted for a moment before allowing him entry. She groaned in delight as his fingers slid inside.
He bent both fingers back towards him at the mid-knuckles, applying pressure to her G-spot while synchronizing his finger movements with the rhythm of the circling spoon. He could tell immediately that if he maintained this motion and pressure, it wouldn’t be long before Elara would climax.
Round and round the spoon went, gently compressing her clit, while his fingers stroked her inner wall in unison, the honey providing slick lubrication for his persistence. Her breathing became more intense, so he stopped rubbing the spoon and instead began to gently tap her clit with the back of it. These taps seemed to excite her even more. Elara dropped the leather leash handle and gripped the sofa tightly.
He slowly increased the pressure of the spoon’s taps on her clit as his fingers elongated, the beckoning motion pushing further against her inner wall.
“Yes, yes!” Elara cried. “I’m going to cum,” she gasped. Alex maintained the same rhythm but intensified the taps of the spoon until Elara’s body shook. As she exhaled, his fingers were trapped inside her as her entire body twisted with an incredible orgasm. She convulsed for over 10 seconds, kicking and twisting, crying out, “Oh my god, oh my god!”
Alex gently withdrew his fingers and unhooked the leash from his collar. As Elara lay there in front of him, her eyes shut and her expression one of exhausted relief, he stood up, grabbed his hard cock, and slowly but firmly pushed it inside her.
Elara turned to look at him. “You are so fucking hot,” he said as he lowered his chest to hers, kissing her passionately on the lips. She buried her tongue into his, and Alex wasted no time building up a rhythm. His cock, so hard, initially met with resistance, but after two thrusts, she was ready to take him fully.
Their hips rocked together in a frenzied dance, her fading orgasm already crying out for another. The warm sensation of her honey-lined pussy massaged his cock with an intensity that Alex knew he couldn’t resist for long.
In less than a minute, Elara came again, her body writhing with contractions as Alex continued to pump into her. The grip of her tightening vagina was so intense that it pushed Alex over the edge, and he released himself inside her, both of them crying out in a symphony of groans.
They collapsed onto each other, Alex eventually sliding off her body and back down onto his knees. Glancing down, he noticed that he had knocked the honey jar over, spilling it onto the wooden floor. But seeing the spoon gave him a playful idea.
He took the small spoon and carefully inserted it into Elara's vagina, delicately scooping around in the concealed darkness. When he removed the teaspoon, it was coated with a mixture of white semen and sticky clear liquid—it was hard to tell whether it was honey or her own juices, but he suspected it was a blend of both.
“Surely, if I had to taste the bitter and sweet, then you should enjoy the sweet and salty, goddess,” he teased, lifting the spoon to her panting mouth.
Expecting her to shake her head in disgust, Alex was surprised when Elara didn’t hesitate. She opened her mouth and, with complete confidence, swallowed the contents of the spoon entirely.
“Delicious,” she said, licking her lips. Alex was in awe of this new goddess before him and he pulled her close, giving her the morning hug he had missed.
“A hug in the morning, a hug in the evening, and everything in the middle is easy,” they said in unison, laughing and holding each other tightly.
Elara’s gaze shifted beyond Alex to something on the Christmas tree that caught her eye. There, hanging just above the mysterious case, was a flashing bauble. Upon closer inspection, she realised it was the missing backdoor key, its diamond sparkling above the chest like the Star of Bethlehem—except this star was heralding a very different type of messiah.
Epilogue
And so, dear friend, it is with a wry smile and a warm heart that I recount the happy continuation of our lovers' tale. Alexander and Elara found their passions ignited not just for the twelve days of Christmas, but far into the beckoning embrace of the new year.
Each luxurious treasure I bestowed was not merely an object, but a key—unlocking doors they had never dared approach. The knot of the familiar unraveled as they ventured deeper into the labyrinth of pleasure, their hands entwined, their hearts brimming with courage. For each golden pleasure-trinket and leather-clad instrument, revealed truths not only about themselves but about the recesses of their untapped sexual potential.
Through candlelight caresses and profound perversions, they wove a tapestry of intimacy and sensuality as intricate as the gilded walls of a Mayfair club. Passion, once a quiet echo, grew bold, shimmering with fifty shades of festive fetish fire. For, as I have observed time and again, the best gifts are those that allow us to see ourselves anew—daring, radiant, alive!
And so, my dear confidant, permit me to leave you with a truth as timeless as the treasures in my Mayfair vaults:
“Once a mind’s expanded, it cannot contract,
And when kink awakens, there’s no going back.”
With the gentle hush of falling snow beyond their Mayfair windows and the warmth of a roaring fire within, our couples journey into kink and love unfolded seamlessly.
Each new kinky experience flowed into the next, with every orgasm their transformation deepened. And yet, as their exploration of pleasure, pain and kink pushed their moral and sexual boundaries, so their love also increased, growing ever richer. And so, every day, perhaps even more earnestly than before, it began and ended with their ritual embrace and their life together became a luxurious symphony of love and lust.
And who knows, perhaps one day, you, too, will find an object of passion that stirs something deep within. Or some perfect item from my vaults that will captivate you and your lover. After all, the Marquis always keeps a little magic in his collections for those willing to venture down the rabbit hole and join me on my luxurious lifestyle of kink and curiosity.
Until our next meeting and to pleasures yet untold, I wish you a very kinky Christmas.
The Marquis de Mayfair.