Please also note: this work had been written in collaboration with Jack Brighton and may bear some resemblance to 'Christmas at The Wild Side'.

Chapter 1

It was Christmas Eve and a naked Stella Marshall was bubbling with excitement as she considered possible outfits for the remainder of the evening.

"Something appropriate," had been the only guideline her master had given before sending Stella to her room to get changed.

Appropriate for what though? That was the question that dominated her mind as she flicked through the clothes in her well stocked wardrobe. Were they going out perhaps, and if so, to where? The Dark Side was most likely should that be the case, but Stella had learned through the most wonderful lesson that you could never be sure about anything in life. Her master was a catholic, and although highly lapsed, he'd humoured his mother by accompanying her to church when they'd visited her recently, so midnight mass might be on the cards. That would be embarrassing if Stella called it wrong. The sort of thing she might wear to The Dark Side - a BDSM club where outrageous outfits were practically the norm - would be hideously inappropriate for the splendour of St Paul's.

So no. A better clue would have been given if they were stepping out of doors.

It was more likely that some raunchy piece of domestic play was in the planning: a fun filled night of bondage and depraved fornication, involving the whole household, not just her master. Group sex hadn't featured since they had returned to London a few days ago, which was rather odd given the nature of their housemates. There had been no orgasms either for Stella Marshall, her master having denied her the pleasure of a climax. He'd even gone so far as to forgo vaginal sex since taking their leave of Dublin, using only her mouth and her ass of course, forbidding Stella to even touch her pussy, let alone enjoy some penetration at the front. So perhaps he'd been preparing her for some special event where Stella's poor neglected pussy would get plenty of attention, hopefully resulting in climax after climax. It had to be something along those lines. Singing carols round the fireside didn't seem likely, but nothing could be ruled out in the environment in which she lived - a fabulous townhouse near the Chelsea Embankment, where 'appropriate clothing' could take very bizarre forms, and only the chain she wore around her neck could ever be taken for granted.

The chain!

Pausing her search for a moment, Stella touched the chain necklace that was a mark of her status, and an involuntary smile came to her face. It was a simple piece of silver that wouldn't have been particularly expensive, yet Stella still treasured it beyond any piece of jewellery. It had been gifted by her master long before she became his property - a symbol of enslavement when it was only a game - a dream that seemed beyond possibility, yet miraculously had come to pass. She knew that a replacement was coming her way, probably tomorrow as a Christmas gift. That would be made of gold, or perhaps even platinum now that her master could afford it - the value of which would be more important to him. Stella would be happy with plastic around her neck as long as it marked her as her master's slave.

His slave! A tingle ran through her as Stella absorbed that happy fact. What a journey she had made since leaving school six months ago - a journey through the dark side that had led to a bright light - a shining star to match her stellar name: an Irishman called Paddy McGuire.

Memories flashed like the Aurora Borealis - bright and colourful in Stella's mind. She had met Paddy McGuire on the first day of her employ at The Dark Side - an exclusive nightclub in the heart of Soho where rich and powerful men wallowed in debauchery. Having just turned eighteen, Stella had been hired to play the role of the club's naughty public schoolgirl, something she had been for much of her life. And as an employee of the owner, Paddy had been tasked with giving her an induction before launching the new worker on her debut night.

That had been fun - despite all her foreboding about performing in public. Dressed in her old school uniform, Stella had been caned on the stage of the club's main room, then gloriously fucked by Headmaster McGuire - the consummation she had yearned for after days of teasing foreplay at the hands of this master of manipulation... And here was the uniform she had worn that night, hanging in her wardrobe: blazer, skirt and a plain white blouse. Would that be appropriate for a domestic Christmas Eve?

No! The notion was rejected without much further thought. It was part of her past. And Christmases past had not been happy for Stella: spent in Tunbridge Wells with a widowed mother who resented her only daughter and served up bitter spite instead of cranberry sauce with the turkey. For the first time since her father had killed himself a dozen years ago, Stella was looking forward to Christmas day when some very dear friends would be joining them to celebrate. This would be the best ever by a long, long, way - spent with a different type of family - one that actually cared for each other, even though no one was related by blood. And it was snowing outside, quite heavily in fact - so the chances were good for a white Christmas in London. A rarity indeed, making this particular Yuletide all the more special. How could it not be the best Christmas ever?

With thoughts of white, another memory flashed, and Stella zoomed in on her most expensive dress. That had been the answer to another 'something appropriate' stipulated by Paddy, when he had taken Stella to The Dark Side as his guest - the same night he had gifted her the neck chain she still wore. The dress looked like poured milk, and fitted like a skin, daringly cut to show off most of her ass, revealing the chain thong she had worn underneath, and the padlock that had protected her anal virginity.

That had since gone!

Not as originally planned, though. When she'd worn the white dress that Stella now examined, the idea was to auction her anal virginity at the end of her three month contract at The Dark Side. The scandalous outfit was a sort of advert, Paddy using the opportunity to flaunt the wears and increase the value to potential buyers. But instead it had been bundled into a bigger package, when Stella herself was auctioned as a fully trained slave. Or 'half-trained' as the man who had bought her had claimed: the owner of The Dark Side, and someone she revered almost as highly as her master... a Scotsman called Angus MacLeod.

It still didn't seem real - the chain of events that had culminated in her purchase. Having 'grown too old' to play a schoolgirl at the club, Stella had been given the opportunity to attend Bears Den - a slave-training camp in Kent that Mr MacLeod owned. Paddy had driven her there... and left her there as well. Stella had feared she might never see the Irishman again. And that seemed to be the case on auction night at The Dark Side when she was bought by a mysterious internet bidder. Then she'd been brought to this house and met Angus MacLeod - the most generous person in the world she reckoned. Because not only did he gift her to the man that she loved, he also gave Paddy a share in his business, and pushed through his membership of The Guild of Masters, making two people's dreams come true that night. Appreciation of Paddy's loyalty was the reason MacLeod had given for all this benevolence, although Stella knew it went much deeper than that - another mystery that surrounded the big gruff Scotsman to whom she owed so much.

Now there was an idea! Mr MacLeod was Scottish, so perhaps a kilt might be in order - or her tartan mini-skirt which came pretty close. It would be a symbolic token of her gratitude to the man. That might be appropriate on this festive occasion, even more so than the bottle of malt whisky she'd bought him. But again the idea was quickly dismissed. From what Stella understood, Mr MacLeod could be rather touchy about certain things, and his nationality was a subject definitely not to be messed with. He might think she was trying to take the piss - not something she would ever dream of doing to the man who was her 'other master'. That was how Paddy had told her she must view him, making no exceptions whatsoever. If they were to live in the MacLeod household, which was the plan after all, then according to Paddy there could be no alternative approach. And Stella wanted to live here as part of the extended family. Her heart belonged to Paddy, but Stella's body could be shared along with her service - and servicing Angus MacLeod would be no problem at all, given that his butch rugged looks and sexual prowess were on a par with McGuire's incredible standards. Serving two masters might have its pitfalls, but on Christmas Eve, the girl happy as a lark and feeling incredibly randy, Stella was blind to the potential downside.

That was about to change!

As she found a dress that seemed appropriate for her mood, there was a knock on the door of Stella's private room. She knew immediately who it would be. Her master would never knock, and neither would Mr MacLeod in the unlikely event he had cause to visit her here. The maid had been sent home having cleared away after dinner, so that only left Mr MacLeod's two slaves - Frida and Lucrezia. Liking them enormously, and sure they would tell her if the dress was a mistake, Stella happily bid them enter.

They did... and wow!

It hardly seemed possible, but Stella reckoned the women looked even more stunning than they had at dinner: wearing new dresses at a guess, but the same high class at the cutting edge of fashion; with not much in the way of make-up but plenty of flesh on show, sexy as sin without in any way sluttish. Frida was in black, Lucrezia in white - a much used trick they tended to play, contrasting each other and their natural looks. Frida was Swedish: blonde and blue-eyed with light golden skin. Lucrezia was Italian: black hair and dark eyes with a natural rich tan. They were both twenty-four, six years older than Stella, and infinitely wiser in the ways of their dark world.

"The red dress!" exclaimed Frida, spotting it in Stella's hands as her eyes washed over the teenager's naked body. The Swede beamed a smile that spoke of approval and a level of understanding that verged on the psychic. "I remember the day we helped you to choose it..."