He shook his head; turned to address his submissive:
"I'd better stop drinking that whisky. What is this? If
I'm not really dreaming, I've just seen on our roof
Santa and eight pony-girls. Was it 100 proof?"
"Please let me down Master, so I can check it's the truth."
Soon she stood by the window, and cried out, "Forsooth!"
For these were the olden days when people said that
If suddenly confronted by Saint Nick in a hat
On a sleigh being pulled by eight women dressed as reindeer
In various corsets and bit-gags and leather gear.
More rapid than Masters, his slaves had no shame
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Cum Dasher! Cum Dancer!
Cum, Prancer and Vixen!
Cum, Comet! Cum, Cupid!
Cum, Donner and Blitzen!"
And there in their bonds
the eight started to orgasm;
while within, at the window
Subbie started to spasm...
The next thing she knew, Santa stood by the fireplace
Saying, 'Hey, you'd look good in some leather and lace.'
He rummaged in his bag through his dildo-shaped parcels
And soon found a sheer slip trimmed with red and black tassels.
Master was slumped open-mouthed by the fire.
Had Santa's arrival caused him to expire?
Or the booze? Whatever...he was out for the count
While Santa stroked Subbie's clit just the amount
To take her to Heaven, or do I mean Lapland?
It was certainly a welcome gift, delivered by hand.
"Oh Santa," cried Subbie, "life's the wrong kind of pain here.
Do you chance to require another slave reindeer?"
And that's why, this Christmas, if you happen to espy
