#94175 - Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, save the woman, as quiet as a mouse, She lay on the ground, all covered from head to toe in silky lace and black rope, To please her Master in the morning, being her hope; Her Master was asleep, all hustled in bed, No idea of his love’s plans in his head, No idea that while he slept, she slipped away, Her mind filled with thoughts of nothing but play, on the coming Christmas day. And at the clearing of his throat, she gave a little jump and squeak, And in her impressive self-made bindings, he decided to take pity on her, and helped her to her feet; With a few rubs to her calves, her blood into her legs started to once more flow, And how ill-advised her attempts to move, she began to know. Not often do I get to watch you work on yourself, The thought impressive enough in itself,” He quipped, a big smirk covering his face, As his hands dipped down, and started to play over her
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