The Soho Mean Girls Present:
A cheery yet twisted debaucherous bedtime story for all you naughty little subbies out there, guaranteed to knock your sissy stockings off ;)
(Written By: Miss Mila)
We wish you a happy, horny holidays!
(P.S. - Scroll down to the bottom for some merry, Mean Girl Family photos…)
Twas a cold, ominous, December night at the Mean Girl residence.
The city was bustling with tourists and people running around like worker bees, getting last minute shopping and work done before the holidays.
But little did they know, the New York underground was just as bustling and hectic as you can imagine…
Sissy maids, house boys, and rubber gimp butlers were in full force; cleaning, decorating, waiting on the Dominas hand and foot, scurrying throughout the house to create a comfortable, festive atmosphere for the Goddesses to dwell in. footboys, footstools, human-lamps, errand boys, doggies, pets, pigs, you name it, were all called upon to help commemorate and celebrate this joyous, and debaucherous time! There was certainly no room for mistakes, and everyone knew proper punishments were called-for if things didn’t go smoothly.
You see, the holidays were a very important time of year in the kink world. Almost every holiday always brought mutual feelings of celebration, a sense of community, and all-around guiltless fun. Minds were free to let-go, endorphins were tirelessly pumping, and of course, all this excitement really got the blood flowing….down there. If you know what I mean...
It was a time to come together no matter who you were or where you came from, to indulge in the pleasures of life! And in a chaotic place like New York City, this reprieve from everyday life was just NEEDED.
As you may already know, the domain in which the Soho Mean Girls existed, work and play were often synonymous, and the two basically meant the same thing… which meant DOUBLE the festivities and DOUBLE the fun!
And so, this is where Our story really begins….
*RING RING RING*
A small gold bell chimes throughout the House. A sound all too familiar to the dungeon-staff, who were all well-trained to react accordingly. Each and every member of the Soho Dungeon were assigned specific jobs based on their individual talents, and were all trained to perfectly execute such talents by their assigned Mistresses. And of course, all were delighted to have such a privilege.
“RING RING RIIIING”
A perfectly manicured hand waves the gold bell again.
A teasing, condescending voice chimes in along with the bell. We see it’s the blue-haired Goddess, Mistress Lady Luger. She stands in front of the SMG Human Christmas Tree, a tradition started since the Soho Mean Girls’ inception. It was a kinky, different approach to your otherwise boring and lifeless Christmas tree, that was displayed in the dungeon every year around the holidays.
Luger shouts across the house, hands on her hips, “sissy! sissy samantha….get your ass in here!”
A short lanky sissy boy adorned in a specially made green and red frilly maid dress, scuttles over, arms full of shiny holiday decorations.
“This pathetic tree needs more ornaments. Do your job, fix it. bitch.”
Without missing beat, the sissy bows his head and shuffles over to the human tree, which is basically exactly how you would imagine: A freakishly tall, bulky, statue of a male, adorned in a leather gimp mask, rendered immobile and restrained by yards of blinking colorful Christmas lights, and layers of shimmery garland wrapped around his massive body. On top of his thick skull, a single 8-inch platform heel is balanced perfectly on display, acting as the “star” on the human tree. A universal symbol of dominance, show-casing not only the gimps rightful place, but the entire house-holds proper place.
The tiny sissy lifts his little arms and starts to hook the ornaments onto the gimps limbs. sissy and gimp; both working hard together to please the Goddesses in any possible way they could.
Coming up from the basement, a bunch of The Girls just got finished with a group session, still high off the thrill of it all, laughing as they entered the main hall, already gossiping about the poor little subbie they just toyed with. The sound of their boots and heels clacking through the halls was enough to get the whole house-staff excited and grateful that they were each a part of something great...something powerful. It was all music to their ears, among other things...
Right on cue, the main house sissy, daisy, hurries over to the group. He carries a silver tray prepared with chilled Champagne to help them cool down. Barely even acknowledging the measly sissy, the Girls tower over his feeble frame, each taking a glass as they make a small toast:
“To Female Superiority, and Our overwhelming flawlessness, of course.”
The group share proud smiles and more words of encouragement. As the glasses clink, the sissy curtseys and hurries off to perform more tasks for his favorite Goddesses, with a little smile on his eager face.
As the Ladies walk through the dungeon: some bark orders at the little subbies working like clockwork. Others lounge and relax by a gorgeous stone fireplace in the living room. Miss Lady Luger kicks off Her boots, and sets Her feet up by the roaring fire, on top of a willing, human-footstool of course.
Suddenly a quiet, but deep voice enters from the hall.
“Excuse Me, My Goddesses...”
One of the house-butlers enters, clean-cut, adorned in all rubber-everything, down to his fancy bow-tie. He motions a gloved hand towards the front door.
“Delivery has arrived, if you will.”
Behind him, a short, stocky delivery boy emerges, carrying paper bags of take-out, his wide eyes scanning the room in awe of just about….everything. (Because let’s be honest; a dark, sleek, yet dazzling dungeon full curious toys and gadgets, and of course tall, alluring Goddesses, were definitely something you didn’t see everyday as a vanilla folk…)
His gaze falls upon the Goddesses, like a kid entering some kind of surreal dreamscape, paying close attention to their matching, red and white holiday outfits. Short leather skirts, thigh high boots and sheer stockings, sexy red tops, and cute Santa hats framing their glossy, perfectly primped hair. The Dominas all stare back, eyeing him like another piece of man-meat, yet can’t help but be amused by his apparent naiveté.
Mistress Natasha smirks and leans over to Miss Mila, who is in the midst of receiving a foot rub by a half-naked, masked foot-boy.
Confidently, Natasha whispers, “This one should be an easy catch…”
Mila smirks, already scheming their next move.
The delivery boy attempts to blurt something out, his arm holding out the paper bags, half trembling from his pulsing nerves, half shaking from the cold. His chubby cheeks, rosy-red from the wintry winds outside, flush into an even deeper crimson. He shuffles his weight, trying to adjust and cover up the bulge beginning to swell in his snow-pants.
Before he can get a word out, Mistress Cynthia rises slowly from Her velvet chaise lounge and struts over to the soon-to-be fresh meat...
Her angelic aura practically drifts over to him. Her sultry voice emanates from Her perfect pouty red lips,
“Oh, are you cold? It’s so terribly frigid outside…Here, why don’t you come in, closer by the fire…”
Her wide, unwavering gaze pierces straight through the delivery boy, who starts to shrink smaller and smaller the closer Goddess Cynthia gets, as if melting right in front of Her.
But “melting” was an understatement. He was already entranced, enraptured, and purely enamored by Her crystal, doll-like eyes, framed by long flowy lashes. But what really cut through him was what was behind those otherworldly eyes...…Hypnotic to say the least. A hidden heavenscape, gleaming through Her sky-blue pupils. So angelic, yet invasive. Intimidating. He felt his soul starting to ooze out from underneath his flesh. Tons of simultaneous sensations, all frightening, yet incredibly alluring...
Was it the mind-numbing cold making him see things? Was he dreaming? Hallucinating? His mind and heart were fluttering a million miles a minute. How did he even get here? His memory was already breaking into fragments. His body, still as stone.
So many new, terrifying feelings washed over him, but the throbbing ache for more, (whatever more was), was starting to drive him into a frenzy. Cynthia’s sheer mesmerizing Power, already taking him down without even touching him…
Her delicate hand brushes down on his rosy cheek, coercing him towards the warm, beckoning fire. The wild, blazing flames reflecting in his wide eyes. He doesn’t dare resist, already slipping off his coat, all of a sudden sweating bullets. The rest of the Girls rise and guide him towards a staircase, leading him to one of the most unforgettable places in the land of kink...A place where rare dreams, and kinky fantasies manifest into waking reality…Deep into the depths of the Soho Mean Girls Domaine.
It took no time at all for the delivery boys clothes to slip off him like melted butter. His trembling legs finally give out and he falls to his knees, landing on the cold, hard, stone floor. Pairs of shiny black boots encircle him. The shadows of ropes, chains, and thickly-woven cat-o-nine tails spread across the brick walls.
Mistress Luger lets out a laugh, and nudges the lumpy-looking delivery boy with Her boot.
“Looks like this little bitch snowman is already starting to melt at the sight of Us.”
Natasha chimes in, lifting his head up by his hair, “But not too quickly little snow-bitch...We might just have a use for you.”
The rest of the Girls can’t help but grin at the thought.
Miss Mila leans over and inspects the mound of meat prostrated at their heels, then gasps…
“Oh my God…it’s like a…baby carrot!”
She points Her riding crop towards the snowmans sad looking crotch, and the rest of the Girls burst out laughing.
Mistress Natasha squints, straining to see whats clearly not there.
“Where is it?? Did a reindeer bite it and run off with it?”
Lady Luger chimes in, “Might as well shovel a hole in his backside and make him Our permanent snow-bitch.”
The wild laughter echoes through the dungeon, loud enough for the whole house to start blushing.
It’s apparent the melting, helpless delivery boy has completely given himself up. He doesn’t even care what’s to come. He is just anxious and utterly excited in every sense of the word. So excited, that his pathetic baby carrot between his lumpy legs starts to throb.
Mistress Natasha shoves Her shiny boot in his face, “Kiss, you pathetic snowman!”
He doesn't fight. He doesn’t utter a word. His body just reacts to their taunting demands. He doesn't care if it’s wrong or right. He just feels….good. It was as simple as that.
The other girls proceed to each grab an implement, ready to bring some Hellish heat down on this already sweating mound of snow…
The snow-bitch dips down and presses his cold lips to Natashas sleek black boots. In an instant, his mouth wells up saliva, already drooling. He licks his lips then sticks his tongue out for more. Never did he think patent leather would ever taste this….incredible.
But the Girls had way more planned for their new toy….
Thanks to Cynthias swift rope-work, within seconds the delivery boy is strung up and suspended to the ceiling, limbs stretched open, body fully exposed and vulnerable, ready to take anything.
His face, anxious, yet his wide eyes pleaded for more…
“Here,” Mistress Mila steps behind him, Her deep sultry voice crawling down his back. “This’ll warm you up…”
Her gloved hand comes down hard on his exposed, bare ass.
The snow-bitch lets out a gasp, then a dull moan, soaking in the new, burning sensation.
Suddenly a flogger comes down and strikes him in the back. Then a paddle. Hands and implements come from every direction. The Girls waste no time warming up their new toy. The harder they go, the more his face contorts into pleas for more.
The amount of attention his pathetic yet sensitive body was receiving was overwhelming! It was nothing he had ever experienced in his boring, mundane existence. Something deep inside was being sparked to life. A visceral shift in his mind and body… It hurt, but the more he was poked and prodded at, the ever-increasing, curious desire for more took over.
He was at a loss for words. The only thing he could muster up was:
Because that’s how he simply felt. Just utterly, and truthfully grateful for this dreamy, surreal exploit…
Cynthia tightens the ropes, spreading him out even more. She reaches for a pair of nipple clamps and secures them in place, pinching each erect nipple tightly under Her grip.
“What’s the matter little snow-loser...you don’t want to leave, do you?”
The snowman lets out a whimper, mouth agape, panting and practically drooling at this point.
The snowmans body goes limp, releasing any resistance, allowing the tight ropes to carry and cradle his weight. It felt so good just to let go…
“Please, what?” Goddess Cynthia asks, Her gaze still as strong as ever.
All his tiny brain could muster up was the word: “More...”
And just like that, The Girls go harder, and faster.
A hand comes down and bitch-slaps across his already burning red-cheeks.
His vision goes blurry as he starts tearing up from the prickling pain. His head starts spinning. His body and mind high off the rush of pain, pleasure, and adrenaline. His tiny, yet hard little carrot pulsating and practically oozing with each passing second. All he sees are dark, shadowy angels dancing around him, laughing, taunting, and teasing his senses with their heavenly bodies and painful instruments. Never did he think he’d ever end up in this twisted, yet blissful state of being. Never did he think it actually existed. He stopped questioning it altogether, and continued to let go of the tight grip he had on reality.
Natashas slender hand grips a thick wooden paddle and holds it high. She swings from behind him and WHACKS him HARD across his burning, red, sweating ass.
And then, finally…
Almost as if She smacks it right out of him, the snowman completely THAWS, his fluids splashing into a giant, milky puddle below him. His body goes soft, his jaw slack, his mind...blank. The room goes quiet for a moment as Cynthia slowly lowers the rest of the snow-bitch to the floor.
And again, right on cue, sissy daisy comes scurrying down the stairs, silver tray in hand. The girls burst out laughing, proudly admiring their work. They take their glasses and toast once again to their Greatness, while the snowman, uh, recovers from his unexpected Christmas miracle.
“Seasons Beatings, little snow-bitch.” Declare the Girls, as they gave him a wink before waltzing back upstairs for more holiday festivities.
And just like that, a lucky little snowmans heart and soul were melted that day, forever changed and transformed unlike anything his tiny brain could fathom. From then on, the snowman was so grateful, he felt it was only right that he quit his job and dedicate the rest of his existence to serving the surreal Goddesses that opened his eyes to new possibilities, and new types of fun! - The Soho Mean Girls xoxo