Not a creature was stirring, and it wasn’t by chance.
The wench was strung up by the chimney with care,
Hoping her dear Master soon would be there.
The critters were nestled all warm on their rugs,
The wench was still waiting, tied snug as a bug.
Then into the room there swept her dear Master.
He threw down his coat, and she heard evil laughter.
“I’ve been busy shopping,” he said with a leer.
“I’ve brought lots of toys to give bad girls good cheer.”
Then out of a black velvet bag he did pull
A whole bunch of toys to make happy her Yule!
A flogger, a paddle, a crop, and a whip,
A St. Andrew’s cross, some clothespins to zip,
A collar locked up with a padlock quite tight,
And leather restraints that would hold her just right,
Nipple clamps, suction cups, speculums too,
A Wartenberg wheel, and mint-flavored lube,
Some candles, some ropes, a new cupping set,
A new leather harness that made her quite wet,
A blindfold, a gag, a new spanking bench,
And finally a bunny-fur mitt for the wench.
The Master approached her, his eyes all a-twinkle,
And asked, “My dear wench, how’s this little wrinkle?
“I’ll tie you, I’ll flog you, I’ll pinch and I’ll tickle,
“I’ll have so much fun, putting you in a pickle!”
The wench, she was speechless, her legs had gone weak,
As she dreamed of his hand going “smack!” on her cheeks.
Her eyes cast submissively down to the floor,
She was ready to answer when in through the door
Came another, dressed up in a red velvet suit,
With eight tiny reindeer in close, hot pursuit.
“What is this?” the new one, old Santa, he asked.
His eyebrow arched knowingly, slapping her ass.
“You perverts! You freaks! Is this Christmas to you?
“You’ve forgotten some of my favorite tools!”
Then out of his bag he pulled two more toys,
Sure to bring pleasure to girls and to boys:
A full bondage harness, made just for suspension,
A swing to go with it, that got her attention!
Then back through the door old Santa did go,
And merwench and Master once more were alone.
“It’s playtime,” said Master, his eyes all aglint,
As he started to fasten a clamp to her clit.
She moaned, she sighed, she thrashed and she wriggled,
And out in the yard she heard Santa giggle.
Then Santa exclaimed, as their house he was leaving,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good Beating!”
HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM WASTELAND!