Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house Not a slave was stirring not even a mouse The shackles were hung by the chimney with care In hopes that the Mistress would soon be there...
The subbies were sleeping, all snug with their chains, While the snapping of single tails raced through their brains; With ma in her corset, and I in my mask There was little more I, as a Master, could ask When down in the basment, there arose such a sound I thought local club members my dungeon had found.