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T'was the Night Before Christmas - BDSM Style



T'was the night before Christmas, when all through my Sir’s castle,

Not a sub was caught stirring, all were tied down with rope and tassel,

Pain sluts were hung by the chimney mid-air,

In hopes that Master Claus would use them without care,

The slaves, all nestled on place mats near Master’s bed,

While visions of red and purple bruises danced in their heads,

My Sir in his leather, I in my slave bells and nightcap,

After a long whipping session, came a well-deserved nap,

When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter,

I crawled from my placemat to see what was the matter,

Away to the window I flew with much haste,

Knocking wax off the table, “Damn, what a waste”

The moonlight shown the breast of the new fallen snow

and gave luminous capture to the objects below,

I search, and to what do my eyes should befall,

Being pulled by eight pony girls, each one at least six feet tall,

Was a magnificent sleigh, but that was not all,

A Dominant driver, dark, forbidding and stern,

I knew in a moment my Sir had a great deal to learn,

More rapid than cheetahs, his pony girls came,

As he whipped each and shouted, and called them by name:

“Now princess, now precious, now angel and vixen!

On peaches, on cinnamon, on passion and kitten!

To the top of the roof, to the top of the wall

And I’ll blister your asses, if any of you fall!”

With terrified tears as the bullwhip did flow,

When met with a challenge, they gathered courage and go,

So down to the rooftop the pony girls flew,

With a sleigh full of sex toys, and Master Claus, too

And then, in a blink, I heard on the roof,

The prancing and stepping of pony girl hoofs,

I drew in my head, such a wonder to see,

When I heard Master Claus sliding down the chimney,

He was dressed in black and red, from his head to his toes,

His outfit, adorned with steel accents, such a sight to behold,

A bag of toys and implements flung over his back

Looking very intimidating while opening his sack,

His eyes spoke of aggression with an arrogant essence,

His demeanor, while quite cold, exuded an irresistibly carnal presence,

He was tall, dark, and commanding, the Sir of my dreams,

I wanted badly to serve him, so I fell to my knees,

He looked down upon me, a smile spread ‘cross his face,

Only then did I realize he’d soon take my Sir’s place,

He spoke not one word, as I took onus of his chores,

He watched me in silence, knowing it was he I adored,

“To me,” he commanded, the only words he would declare,

And up the chimney he rose, taking me by my hair,

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team cracked the whip,

Pulling me ‘cross his knees, his hand firm on my hip,

As we pulled away from my former home, with a wipe of his brow,

He whispered, “Happy Christmas, new slave; you belong to me, now.”


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