The Night Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas and Madame Whiplash,
Had closed up her dungeon and was counting the cash,
The last client had gone and the handcuffs locked tight,
Tucked in their drawer for the rest of the night.
The whips, crops and birches were stowed round the back,
She'd loosened the cogs of the dastardly rack,
Spurs were wiped clean of blood, the bullwhips were coiled,
The chains were buffed bright and the leathers were oiled.
It was late as she packed the ball-gags in a drawer,
And swept up sawdust from the bloodstained, tiled floor,
As she tidied away an array of butt-plugs,
Something fell down the chimney with a ho-ho and a thud.
It was Santa, white-bearded, and laughing so jolly,
"My dear, did you order panties made from holly?
A barb-wire bra and a corset to match-it,
And for your worn rack, a new capstan and ratchet?
Thigh-boots in black with spurs and high heels,
Clips, clamps and pincers to make clients squeal?
My dear, all these items are for tortures so vile -
Not befitting this season, which is one of goodwill."
Madame Whiplash replied, "I have recommendations,
From satisfied clients - do you want demonstrations?
I could start with a caning to make your cheeks glow,
An old-fashioned spanking to make you "ho-ho".
I can truss you in leather, with a bridle and reins,
Hitch you up to the sled with harness and chains,
If your sack has been heavy and you have a sore back,
May I offer a stretching on my refurbished rack?"
Santa's eyes opened wide and he answered, "My dear,
I guess that you've heard I come but once a year,
What you have offered will relieve my frustration,
Mrs. Claus never offers me such stimulation,
"We've almost an hour so please do your worst,
Strip me and whip me with bullwhip and birch,
Use restraining devices till the pressure is pinching,
I can take a rack-session without screaming or flinching -
But don't tell the kiddies that Santa's depraved,
That I like S & M or play mistress and slave,
Don't mention my studs or my Prince Albert ring,
My nude-woman tattoos or my intimate piercings!"
On that night before Christmas, old Santa he stripped,
Got solidly thrashed, stretched, handcuffed and whipped,
Then back in his outfit and full of good cheer,
He said "I really must dash - but I'll be back next year!"