A Very Mephisto Christmas

By Annabel Joseph

In the ten years since Molly embarked on a blissfully kinky life with Master Mephisto, his “Merry Mephisto Christmas” celebration has become a yearly treat. Mephisto’s dungeon is decorated with lights and decked in holiday cheer. There are gifts too, many of them used in playtime sessions as soon as they’re unwrapped.

But Molly’s gift this year...well...she’s not sure she likes it. Mephisto’s offering takes her back in time to one of the scariest weeks of her life, a week he wants to recreate again, ten years later. The idea scares her, but as Mephisto’s devoted slave, she’s obligated to surrender herself to his whims...

This 20K word novella was originally published as part of Black Collar Press’s Christmas at the Club anthology in 2021.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Annabel Joseph
• Release date: Jun 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005687403

Annabel Joseph

Annabel Joseph is a NYT and USA Today Bestselling BDSM romance author. She writes mainly contemporary romance, although she’s been known to dabble in the medieval and Regency eras. She is known for writing emotionally intense BDSM storylines, and strives to create characters that seem real—even flawed—so readers are better able to relate to them. Annabel also writes non-BDSM romance under the pen name Molly Joseph.You can follow Annabel on Twitter (@annabeljoseph) or Facebook (facebook.com/annabeljosephnovels), or sign up for her mailing list at annabeljoseph.com.She's always working on something new, so stay tuned!

Book preview

Chapter One

Merry Mephisto Christmas

Club Mephisto was alive with excited laughter and holiday spirit. For dozens of playful revelers, Seattle’s premier BDSM club provided a welcome respite from the unseasonably cold weather outside. As Master Mephisto’s devoted slave—and loving wife—Molly was happy to help entertain the club’s patrons. She flitted through cozy common areas and perverse play spaces, smiling at familiar faces as midnight neared.

Ho, ho, ho!

Molly turned at the sound of jingling bells. She’d know that voice anywhere. It belonged to her Master, and had tormented and thrilled her in equal measure for ten years. For tonight, though, he was playing Club Mephisto’s Santa Claus. Why not? It was his dungeon, filled with his kinky, horny regulars.

Every 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. 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. They did make a joyful racket when you shook them against each other.

It was the only time of year Molly and her fellow slaves enjoyed seeing nipple clamps. The only time.

Ho, ho, ho, Mephisto bellowed again, striding around the corner. There it was, the suit and beard Molly remembered, pulled from storage in the dungeon’s back rooms a few hours before. Some might think he looked disheveled for a Santa, but to Molly he was sexy through and through. 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. The long white beard and fake mustache listed to one side, unable to contain the expressive smile curved upon her Master’s lips. His large, dark eyes likewise outshone the kitschy round, wire, Santa spectacles.

No twinkling blue eyes here. Outside the dungeon, where Mephisto was her husband and father to their children, his eyes were kind and intelligent. Within his dungeon, Mephisto’s eyes more often expressed the satanic mayhem of his namesake. No, not Santa-like at all, but very, very…stimulating.

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. She moved from her place near the spanking benches to the open area of the dungeon floor, where Club Mephisto’s patrons had formed a passageway to let Santa through.

Ho, ho, ho, Merry Mephisto Christmas! Who’s been good this year?

He stopped to fist bump fellow Masters and inspect their excited slaves. They all claimed to have been good, except the ones who enjoyed being punished, who insisted they’d been terribly bad. He laughed and ho-ho-ho’d his way to the front of the dungeon, his Santa suit framing his tall, athletic physique in an obscene approximation of the real Father Christmas. The costume’s wide, black belt was too long for her Master’s trim waist, so the tail trailed down in front, swinging suggestively between his legs like…ah…a part of his anatomy she was intimately familiar with.

She ran her fingertips over her delicate chain collar, with its silver M charm. As he passed where she stood, he caught her gaze and winked. He knew her intimately as well. With their long history, Mephisto knew her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, from the beat of her heart to the hum of her breath. He knew her well enough to know she was lusting over the way he looked in his Santa suit. His avid eyes wouldn’t need Santa’s spectacles to note her rock-hard nipples peeking through her lingerie, or the way her thighs trembled when she shifted on her stockinged feet.

This Santa suit fetish was all his fault. Just like the role play fetish, the cage fetish, the dreadlock fetish, the ice cream fetish…

He crossed to the ornate black throne at the head of the dungeon—an addition from a couple years ago, very popular with Club Mephisto’s members—and dropped his sack of goodies at his side. All the good submissives and slaves are invited to join me for a Christmastime story, he said, gesturing to the space before him.

The dominant patrons moved back and the s-types, both male and female, jostled for spots closest to Mephisto. Molly feared the dungeon masters might have to get involved as they vied for the choicest positions, but finally, everyone was seated and quiet.

Molly kept to the side, taking a seat near the back. Lord knew as Mephisto’s wife—and full-time slave—she had ample time beneath his compelling gaze. Plus, from this vantage point, it was easier to enjoy the expert way he kept his audience’s attention as he picked up his Christmas book—a copy of the Kama Sutra with a false cover depicting himself as Santa and Club Mephisto’s whipping post as the North Pole.

Let’s see. He made a production of licking a finger lasciviously in order to turn the first page. This story takes place in a very, very kinky dungeon, at a special time of year. A snowy, cold, shivery time of year.

The subs in front of him huddled closer as he pretended to read a page which doubtless displayed some exotic sexual position. Molly hid a smile.

"In this cold and kinky land, in the dungeon called Club Mephisto, nearly every day of the year,