Molly squeezed her legs together, wishing her skimpy burgundy bralette and garter belt ensemble didn’t leave her hard nipples and wet pussy so exposed. No, not Santa-like at all, but very, very…stimulating. Within his dungeon, Mephisto’s eyes more often expressed the satanic mayhem of his namesake. Outside the dungeon, where Mephisto was her husband and father to their children, his eyes were kind and intelligent. His large, dark eyes likewise outshone the kitschy round, wire, Santa spectacles. The long white beard and fake mustache listed to one side, unable to contain the expressive smile curved upon her Master’s lips. Mephisto’s signature dreadlocks were topped by a plush Santa hat, and the red and white jacket gapped slightly at the front, exposing one muscled pec.

Some might think he looked disheveled for a Santa, but to Molly he was sexy through and through. There it was, the suit and beard Molly remembered, pulled from storage in the dungeon’s back rooms a few hours before.

Ho, ho, ho, Mephisto bellowed again, striding around the corner. It was the only time of year Molly and her fellow slaves enjoyed seeing nipple clamps. They did make a joyful racket when you shook them against each other. There were the adult gifts, sure, the X-rated wrapping paper, the Yuletide-themed pornos playing on the dungeon’s monitors, but best of all, there was her dreadlocked, muscled Master in a red suit and white beard, bearing a sack full of presents and jingling a cluster of…gulp…nipple clamps instead of silver bells. Why not? It was his dungeon, filled with his kinky, horny regulars.Įvery year, Club Mephisto celebrated A Merry Mephisto Christmas the weekend before the tamer, more mainstream holiday, and over the last decade it had become one of Molly’s favorite traditions. For tonight, though, he was playing Club Mephisto’s Santa Claus. It belonged to her Master, and had tormented and thrilled her in equal measure for ten years. Molly turned at the sound of jingling bells. She flitted through cozy common areas and perverse play spaces, smiling at familiar faces as midnight neared. As Master Mephisto’s devoted slave-and loving wife-Molly was happy to help entertain the club’s patrons. For dozens of playful revelers, Seattle’s premier BDSM club provided a welcome respite from the unseasonably cold weather outside. Club Mephisto was alive with excited laughter and holiday spirit.

Club Mephisto by Annabel Joseph