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The Holiday Gift

Category: BDMS
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As she settled into the back-seat of the cab for her ride home after sharing some after work Christmas Eve drinks with some of her female co-workers, Danielle felt a touch of anxiety. This was a distinctly rare occurrence for this usually very self assured young woman. But this would be the first Christmas Eve that she would be spending with Reed since they had moved in together ten months earlier, and she didn’t quite know how to react.

After a surprising number of gentle pleadings on his part, in a moment of unusual weakness she had finally acquiesced in allowing him to decorate the apartment in a holiday spirit, and then prepare a sumptuous Christmas Eve feast for them. She had been adamant however that any and all such preparations would be limited to this one day, so Reed had taken the whole day off from work, to be able to get everything prepared for his special celebration.

For her entire life Christmas had never been a happy or enjoyable time for Danielle, and she always had gone out of her way to avoid getting involved in any of the many seasonal activities. As a child growing up her fundamentalist father had always insisted that Christmas was a time for religious contemplation, and he constantly railed that the day had become an abomination of frivolous celebration and tawdry gift giving. Thus he never allowed any holiday happiness in their house, and always insisted that every Christmas day be spent in prayer and reading of Scripture.

One year, when she was six, her mother had secretly given her a single present, a talking doll that was all the rage among children at the time. It wasn’t that she wasn’t allowed to play, just that she was never given any toys as gifts, and certainly never on Christmas. When her father found out about the doll later that day, he pulled it roughly from her grasp and ripped it apart in front of her, and spent the rest of the day berating her mother for challenging his authority and will. Such gift giving never occurred again.

Even though it had happened at such an early age, this event had marked a turning point in Danielle’s life, not in any way because of the loss of a doll or a gift, but because of the terror, and later the hatred that she felt for how her father had treated her mother, not just on that day, but in all the days of what she came to believe was their sorry life together. And she had been just as angry at her mother’s meek acceptance of her father’s domineering ways. She would always love her mother, but came to despise her for this as well. As she grew older and more self possessed she vowed to herself that she would never allow her father, or indeed any man, to exert such, or for that matter, any control over her life.

This naturally led to an increasing amount of contention and confrontation with her father as the years went on. His emotional and verbal tirades were a source of unremitting tension and distress as he ever sought to bend her to his will. When it became clear, particularly as she advanced into her teen years, that she would never yield willingly, he began to grow more distant and silent, ultimately ignoring her most of the time. He didn’t neglect what he regarded as his parental and religious obligations to provide for her shelter and care until she came of age, but that became all that he ever offered. Many times she had thought that if he had only tried to meet her halfway, or even a quarter, she would have bent a little herself. But it was always his way or the highway, and when she turned eighteen it was this latter path that she took, leaving home and embarking on her own, and never looking back.

Working her way to pay for a community college she did so well that she earned a full scholarship to a state university, from which she graduated with honors. She then landed a very good job in the city in the fashion industry, where she was currently quite successfully working her way up through the ranks.

Her obvious intelligence and iron determination and will weren’t the only advantages that she had. She was also blessed with what most people would consider extremely good looks, with long brunette hair and a sleek and lovely body, which she was never the least bit shy about using to whatever advantage she could gain. As long as it was always on her own terms. This was particularly so in her personal life where she had never been lacking of any number of men pursuing her. She thoroughly enjoyed playing the game of coyly letting them into her life, before beginning to make more and more demands, subtly at first, then more strongly and overtly, until each and every one of them would ultimately depart; some in anger, others in frustration, and many broken hearted. She reveled in seeing how far she could get them to go and give before surrendering to the knowledge that they could never satisfy her. Or at least never meet the increasing demands that she made on them. It wasn’t that she was a man hater. Indeed, she loved men, at least for what they could offer her in amusement and pleasure, both sexually and otherwise. As long as they didn’t expect very much in return, which she was never willing to give but always willing to promise as a tease.

What she wanted and truly needed in any of these relationships was to be in total control, with all which that implied. And when all of the various men she would come to ensnare came to realize this, some later than sooner, they would all, some of them reluctantly, opt out. Not that this ever caused her undue distress. She never truly cared for any of these erstwhile paramours, except for what they could offer as entertainment. She was interested mostly in the game, and the challenge of seeing how far she could take them, before each and every one of them would finally give up, in a variety of degrees of frustration and anger.

Such had not been the case with Reed. From the very beginning it had been different with him. Despite his own above average looks, clear intelligence and apparent popularity with all who knew him, his early approach toward her had be very reticent, even shy, and she found herself having to actively encourage his interest. This was a departure from her usual technique of slowly allowing herself to be aggressively pursued. It was as if he didn’t believe that he was in the same league with her, and this made the early part of the game even more enticing for her. Once she had made her seeming receptivity apparent to him, however, he took the bait and rushed forth with full force, doing everything and anything that he could think of to please her, to keep her interest in him aflame.

It was almost too easy, she had reflected at the time, and she had almost put an end to it at that point because of the seeming lack of any challenge. Instead, she had decided to proceed with the relationship as an experiment, to see just how far and how fast she could push such a compliant individual before he broke. To her surprise, he accepted the rapidly increasing demands and many small indignities she began to place on him with equanimity and resolve. Through her readings on such subject matter on the Internet she slowly came to the conclusion that, even if he wasn’t consciously aware of it, Reed must be at heart what was referred to on the net as a submissive. It was a concept that was foreign and difficult for her to personally comprehend, and now she had a real live example of one on her hands.

This was too good an opportunity for her to play with and pass up, and she felt that she had to allow herself to take full advantage. But, over time, as she heaped more and more challenges on him, Danielle came to discover a number of things. First, as she had come to understand that Reed was a submissive, she also came to realize that she herself was, at heart, a Domme. And that she truly relished the role. Second however, as she observed how hard he often had to struggle to maintain himself within the relationship as it was now developing, she saw that while he may be a submissive he wasn’t in any way a masochist. He didn’t appear to enjoy pain. At one point she felt, for her own enlightenment, that she had to ask him if he liked the suffering that she had begun to inflict upon him with increasing frequency and intensity. He had reluctantly admitted that he did not. Why, she had then asked, honestly perplexed, did he continue to accept it, and not leave as every other man in her life had done before. He had gazed at her, then offered a crooked grin, and said that there was nothing in the world that he wanted more than to make her happy, and if that is what it took to do so, and have her keep him around, then he would take whatever she felt she needed to give.

It was with that profession that Danielle reached her final conclusions. One was that while she now knew without any doubt that she was a Domme, and wanted and needed to be in complete control in any relationship, she didn’t really take delight in causing pain. Yes, she enjoyed coming up with new and interesting demands and challenges to continually assert and maintain that control. But once her total dominion was established and fully accepted she just didn’t see the need for unnecessary cruelty.

The last thing that she then realized, to her own great surprise, was that she had become very comfortable with Reed, and liked having him around.

There was one more acid test for him however, and one that she had never thought she would ever in her life embark upon. Some weeks later, after long contemplation, she had proposed to him that they move in together. But she had made it clear to him, in no uncertain terms, that his only role and function is such a living arrangement would be solely and simply … as her slave. She was secretly shocked … yet thrilled, when he readily agreed without a moment’s hesitation.

That had been ten months ago, and they had pooled their money to barely be able to afford a very fashionable apartment on the upper West Side. In reality, it was no longer THEIR money, but HER money. From the outset she had insisted upon, and had arranged to have his paycheck direct deposited into an account solely in her name. She gave him a weekly allowance that about covered his subway transportation costs to and from work, with just enough left over for a simple, daily lunch. Any money needed for the domestic and food shopping that he did was doled out and strictly accounted for by her. Of course all of the daily household chores were his responsibility, which she made sure that he never took lightly.

Over the months she had developed and established many protocols and rituals for him, which he invariably followed and performed without complaint. She had become quite content and comfortable with the arrangement, although she always made sure to come up with new and interesting ways to keep him on his toes, and ever vigilant to her needs. Still, she had begun to acknowledge a willingness to listen to his thoughts and suggestions, always offered deferentially, and always geared to his desire to find new ways to please her. So she had started allowing him occasional opportunities of independent action to see how successful he could be in this regard. To date he hadn’t failed her, and that was the probable underlying reason why, against her better judgment and lifelong prohibition, she had finally yielded to his pleas that she allow him to prepare a special Christmas Eve celebration for her.

As the taxi dropped her off in front of her building, and she made her way up the elevator to their tenth floor apartment, she still wasn’t sure if she had made the right decision, and her rare feeling of trepidation was only accentuated by the sight of the decorated wreath newly placed on their front door. Taking a deep breath she vowed that she would put a quick end to the ‘festivities’ if this unwelcome feeling didn’t soon pass. Steeling herself, she opened the door, to be met by the sounds of holiday music wafting down the hallway. As it always did whenever she heard this type of music her sense of dismay intensified, and she marched down the hall now determined to put an immediate end to it all.

Entering the living room, unheard over the music, she was brought to a sudden halt by the milieu presented before her. Standing with his back to her as he was reaching forward to put a large star on top of a brightly decorated live Christmas tree was Reed. Her slave. Sensing that she was there, he immediately whirled around provoking a response in her that she would have never expected under the circumstances, and was unable to suppress. A laugh. A truly uninhibited laugh. There he stood, lopsided grin on his face, naked as was his required norm at home, but wearing a green elf hat, a red collar with jingle bells attached, pointed green felt elf booties on his feet, and the piece-de-resistance; several six inch strands of tinker bells attached and hanging down from the plastic cage in which his ‘manhood’ was almost always kept encased .

“Merry Christmas, Mistress.” he said as his smile broadened, and he dropped to his knees, the bells jingling merrily.

Unable to help herself, Danielle’s laughter increased, finally resolving into chuckles, before ending up in a wide smile.

“Why, thank you Reed.” she responded, the tension she had felt just moments earlier now completely dissipated. This was not particularly surprising. Reed’s playfulness and sense of humor was one of things she found most enjoyable about him, beyond his service and obedience, and it usually helped to get her out of even the most foul of moods.

She turned to survey the rest of the room and saw that there was more to the decorations than just the tree. There were large amounts of laurel, and sprigs of holly, interspersed with boughs of evergreens laden with brightly colored pine cones. Hanging from the archway leading to the dining room was what she thought could only be a spray of mistletoe. Fat chance, she smirked to herself, although not too unkindly.

“I see you’ve been quite the busy beaver here today.” she said, shifting her attention back to Reed.

“Yes, Mistress.”

Her smile faded as she gazed sternly for several long seconds at her still kneeling slave, whose own smile became far more uncertain under her glare.

This was her moment of decision.

“I approve.” She finally said, her lips curving up again ever so slightly.

Reed beamed.

“I’m going in to freshen up and change. From the smells coming from the kitchen, I expect that my dinner will be ready when I’m done.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Oh, and Reed.” she continued, “You should lose the hat and booties, and the ah … accessories to your appliance.” Her smile grew larger once again. “They’ve served their intended purpose, and I’m sure the bells on your collar will be more than adequate to let me know where you are.”

“Of course, Mistress. Thank you.”

With that, Danielle turned to go to her bedroom, dropping her coat on a nearby armchair for Reed to put away. As she passed by the dining room she spied a bottle of champagne resting in a bucket of ice on the table. That may be just the right nostrum, she thought to herself, that she needed to overcome any lingering reservations she might still have about the evening’s celebration. She then had a sudden inspiration. Detouring to the kitchen to get a glass, she then proceeded to her bathroom where she relieved herself into it. Returning to the kitchen with the now full glass, she placed it into the freezer. There was no reason, she reflected, why her slave shouldn’t later share in some chilled holiday cheer himself.

Having provided for Reed’s special treat, Danielle made her way into the bedroom where she smiled as she found her clothes for the evening carefully laid out on her perfectly made bed. Reed had become quite the efficient houseboy under her tutelage, she acknowledged to herself for not the first time. Early on in the process in their path to self discovery, she had reached out to a number of self proclaimed Dommes on the web for tips on how to proceed and succeed in such a relationship. Most had been very forthcoming in providing useful advice and knowledge. Almost all of them had insisted that a vital part in a slave’s training and maintenance had to be regular discipline sessions. There was nothing like a hot, rosy red behind to ensure enthusiastic service and devotion, they had said. So Danielle had instituted weekly, over her lap, bare bottom spankings, usually administered with her hand, except when more significant punishment was required.

Though she knew that he would never even think to vocalize it, she could sense that Reed never enjoyed these sessions, and was deeply humiliated by them. But that to her was a large part of their purpose and charm. Still, she had recently begun to wonder how necessary they really were. Reed seldom, if ever, gave her reason to be dissatisfied with his service. She had to admit though, that while at the end of most nights he spent a significant amount of time with his face buried between her thighs, providing her an extremely pleasurable end to her day, his attentions on the nights of his discipline seemed especially ardent.

That may have also been so because it was also on those nights of his correction, following her first pleasuring of the evening, that she usually allowed him the weekly release from his penis prison. If she was in a mellow mood, usually the case, she might also permit him another release as well. This was never a given however. Sometimes she would have him play with himself on his knees before her for her entertainment until she sensed that he was very close, then order him to cease, and reapply the cage until the next week. Other times, she would let him reach, and then just go over the edge before commanding an immediate stop, producing a delightfully amusing ruined orgasm. More and more though, she was allowing him to bring himself to climax, always insisting that he catch and then milk all of his cream into his free hand, and when fully pumped dry, lick it clean.

Reed of course was always very thankful for this largess, and she would then allow him to express his gratitude with another prolonged course of oral worship, this time usually beginning with her nether end. As exquisite as she always found his oral adoration, Danielle, to her very great surprise, and for the very first time in her life, had begun to wonder what it would be like to have intercourse. Other than by Reed’s amazingly talented tongue and fingers, she had never allowed or experienced penetrative sex. She had never fucked. This had usually been the final straw in her tease and deny tactics that had driven away every previous male before Reed. That it hadn’t driven him away was one of the things she found most intriguing about him. She knew that it was something that he intensely desired, even as he understood that it was something for which he could never ask or expect. And, of late, she had been uncharacteristically tempted to indulge. But virtually every Domme with whom she communicated was adamant that one never, ever fucked a slave.

Some had recommended that she seek that experience with any other man of her choosing, and one had even suggested doing it with Reed kneeling in attendance, and even providing further stimulation with his mouth and tongue while they were getting it on. She had found none of these scenarios either exciting or enticing, and she instinctively realized that any such act would be a step too far for both of them. Still, she had come to the conclusion that her Domme friends were probably otherwise correct, and that it would be a huge mistake to ever consider sharing such an intimacy with her slave. Or with any man.

Danielle turned her attention once again to her change of clothes on the bed. The long, red silk nightgown and matching robe were certainly appropriate for the evening’s celebration, she mused. She smiled as she saw the ruby red slippers he had laid out at the side of the bed. They were her favorites. Indeed, footwear of any and all kinds were her particular fashion fetish, and she had made the comfort and care of anything having to do with her feet an especial focus of Reed’s daily duties. This ranged from polishing and carefully arranging her abundant collection of shoes, boots and slippers in her closet, to the hand washing of all of her stockings and socks, to the nightly foot massages and frequent pedicures he so diligently performed. And more and more often, after his evening chores were done, she would have him serve as her footstool as she watched TV, read a book, or chatted on the phone with friends.

It had been in this special role as her foot slave that Danielle discovered just how enthralled Reed himself was with her feet, and how she could use this as another hook to keep him continually on edge. She had long suspected this by the way he so lovingly performed her foot massages, and how meticulous and careful he was in seeing that her feet and all their accessories were kept in immaculate condition. But the final proof came one night during a pedicure, when, as he finished, he lost control of himself as his desire overcame him, and he bent forward and softly kissed the top of her foot.

“How dare youཀ” She had cried in mock horror. “How dare you take such undeserved libertiesཀ”

As he had tried to stammer out an abject apology, she had continued to berate him for his unworthy presumption. This led to the only time that his weekly discipline had advanced into punishment, with a hairbrush replacing her hand, and a rosy red buttocks progressing on to black and blue. From that time on she had made it a point to never even consider allowing him the privilege of kissing her feet, even as she went out of her way to have him handle and care for them in every other way. The look of unrequited yearning that he so often couldn’t hide as he did so became, to her, delicious beyond belief.

After changing into her evening attire, Danielle entered the dining room to find Reed putting the final touches on the Christmas Eve feast. An excellent cook, he prepared most of their meals, except when she was feeling adventurous and wanted to experiment. She insisted that they always eat their meals at home together, as she believed that everyone needed some degree of companionship and conversation, and she utilized their mealtimes together for that purpose.

Seeing her, Reed rushed forward to pull her chair out and help her sit down. He then went to the ice bucket, pulled out the bottle of champagne, popped the cork, and proceeded to pour her first glassful of the evening. His own glass remained unfilled however as he awaited her permission to pour some for himself.

“I have a special holiday treat chilling for you in the freezer, Reed.” she announced. “Take your glass in and fill it up for our toast.”

She smiled as, with a puzzled expression, he hustled into the kitchen to comply with her command. She could only imagine his reaction when he discovered his treat, and she was not disappointed when he reentered with his glass full and a bemused look on his face as he sat down across from her. Once he was settled she raised her glass silently and he followed suit. Her smile broadened as she took her first sip, and observed as he tried to suppress a cringe as he took his. Gathering himself he took in a slightly larger amount, and when she then took a prolonged swallow to drain her glass, she watched with glee as he battled to keep his face blank as he downed the rest of his with one large gulp.

“So how did you like your holiday wine?” she inquired sweetly.

Reed looked down at his glass, frowning, in serious contemplation.

“An excellent vintage.” he finally offered, and then broke out with a large grin. “But I think that I would like it a great deal more, fresh and warm, direct from the source.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I think that could be arranged in the future.” she offered back.

It was then on to the main course, a Christmas goose with a brandied cherry glaze, accompanied by candied yams, and asparagus in Hollandaise sauce. This was followed by one of her favorite desserts, a creme brulee, of which she had two helpings, as she had had with every other course. And the champagne had continued to flow, now for both of them. Throughout the meal Reed had kept her laughing, often hysterically, with his hilarious stories, and from beginning to end it had been in every way a thoroughly delightful dinner. She sat back in her chair, blissfully satisfied.

“Reed, that was a truly wonderful meal.”

Despite past admonitions from many of her Domme correspondents that it was unnecessary, and even unseemly, to ever compliment a slave, she had found that offering Reed praise, when deserved, served as a great spur to have him strive ever harder to please her. And she herself had come to enjoy, as she did now, the strange tingle she felt observing the unmistakable joy on his face whenever she did so.

“While you’re cleaning up, I think I’ll go sit in the living room and admire your tree.” she continued. “But bring me in another glass of champagne before you start.”

Reed scrambled up to pull her chair out and help her up. She felt surprisingly relaxed and serene considering the circumstances. That ended abruptly as she walked into the living room and was stopped short by a sight for which she was totally unprepared. Her breath caught in her throat as if she had been kicked in the gut as she stared before her. She made an unsteady way to the couch and sat down numbly, her eyes never leaving the object that was the source of her dismay.

Under the Christmas tree was a box, elegantly wrapped, with a huge bow on top.

Reed also came to a sudden stop, seeing her as he carried her full champagne glass into the room.

“Mistressཀ Daniཀ What’s wrong?”

Danielle shook herself, glanced over at him, and then back to the box. She fought to keep her voice even.

“Reed,” she began slowly. “What is THAT?”

He followed her gaze back to the tree. His face then lit up with a grin.

“It’s a Christmas present, Mistress. My holiday gift for you.”

His grin faded as this was met with silence.

“Would you like it now?” He offered gamely, clearly bewildered, and even a little anxious after her continued silence. Unsure of how to proceed, he walked over, picked up the present, and brought it over to her. He went down on his knees and placed it on her lap.

“Merry Christmas, Mistress.”

After several more agonizing moments of silence.

“Would you like to open it now?”

She almost refused. She desperately wanted to refuse. But she could never allow herself to show such weakness, especially in front of Reed. She stared at the box on her lap dumbly as if she had no idea on how to proceed.

“Would you like me to help?” he offered, and reached forward to pull off the bow. This broke her out of her daze as she slapped his hand away.

“I’m more than capable of opening a box.” she countered sharply. She might as well see this through. It couldn’t be as bad as she feared. She carefully undid the wrapping, and slowly opened the box, pulling aside the colored paper covering the contents. Her eyes widened, and she couldn’t help the gasp that escaped from her as she pulled them out.

A pair of Manolo pumps, the very ones she had been obsessing and mooning over for months, but with a seven hundred dollar-plus price tag she knew that she would never be able to afford. She looked down at them in wondrous amazement.

“Reed, how …?”

A dark suspicion brought her to an immediate stop. Yes, how?

“How could you have ever paid for these?” she demanded sternly, glaring down at him.

Reed looked up at her sheepishly, with more than a little bit of concern.

“I haven’t eaten lunch for several months, so I saved my money there, and whenever I could, I walked either to or from work.” He smiled up at her hopefully. “I finally saved enough by last week.” He lowered his head slightly as his hope faded. “I’m sorry if you don’t like them.”

Her face softened, with a ghost of a smile appearing.

“No … They’re fantastic.” She responded, in a low voice. “I’ve wanted them for such a long time.”

His head bobbed up as he returned her smile.

“Help me try them on.” she commanded somewhat louder, and he immediately slipped off her slippers, and reverently put each of the new pumps onto her feet. She stretched her legs out in front of her, turning them side to side to admire them. She then stood up, hiked up her robe and nightgown, and twisted her feet this way and that. They fit perfectly and looked fabulous, and she enjoyed herself immensely as she continue to preen, to Reed’s obvious appreciation.

“Do you really like them, Mistress?” he asked, dying to have his rekindled hopes confirmed.

“Like them? I love them.” She exclaimed.

And she really did love them. But it was far more that that. She sat back down, utterly astonished at how excited and happy she felt. This evening had turned out so far different than anything she could have ever envisioned. And it was all because of Reed. Her slave. She looked down at his beaming face, and a thought came suddenly and unbidden. Should she? It would never have occurred to her before, but she now turned it over and over in her head. She knew that most of her Domme friends would never approve, would never understand. But it just felt so right. She made her decision.

“I have a gift for you as well, Reed.”

“Mistress?” he answered, a slight catch in his voice, as he continued kneeling before her.

With a beatific smile on her face, she slipped her feet out of her pumps, and held them out, off the carpet, with her toes pointed toward him.

“You have ten minutes.” she announced majestically. “You may worship them to your heart’s content.”

Reed looked up at her, stunned and unmoving, as if totally overwhelmed and overcome. Finally a hoarse, heartfelt, whispered “Thank you.”

She laughed gaily. “I think you’re wasting precious time.”

He slowly bent forward and took one foot into his hands, then lowered his head to place his lips gently on the top. He lingered there for a very long moment, before using his tongue to lightly caress his way down to her toes, spending ample time with each of them. She began to wiggle them, and taking his cue, he took each one individually into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and between them, sucking softly, which elicited a dreamy sigh from her as he did so. He then picked up her other foot, on which if anything his adoration was even more ardent.

As she basked in the reverie of his worship, Danielle felt a tingle throughout her entire body. Maybe it was the champagne, she thought. No … it was far, far more than that. Reed had given her a gift tonight, and it had rocked her to her very core. He would never know how great a gift it was. No one had ever known. And, for the first time ever, she had given back. And the feeling that she now had, that was coursing through her being … well … sometimes … maybe it really was better to give than to receive.

Gazing down at him as he continued to express his devotion with unabashed joy, she suspected that she would never be able to drive him away as she had done with all the others. And she now knew, without a doubt, that she would never want to. The thrill within her grew. As the final seconds of his gift ticked away she could hardly wait for it to end, so they could retire to the bedroom, and he could turn his attention to meeting her now exquisitely urgent needs.

A new thought came to her.

Maybe she would allow him out of his cage as he did so.

That thought brought forth another.

Maybe she would also allow him his own climax at the end.

And then, unbelievably, a heretofore unimaginable idea.

Maybe they could even share in the joy together… Free and unencumbered, he could join within her for a first time … maybe the first of many firsts to come … for both of them.

Maybe …

No …

She absolutely glowed in jubilant anticipation.

Yes …


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