"The following is a version of The Night Before Christmas...well sort of."

In the realm of the mistress, in the bowels of her house
her slaves were all silent not daring to grouse.
My head was pulled back, a gag placed with great care
with her leather clad fingers entwined in my hair.

Her heels as they clicked filled me with dread
while visions of torture danced in my head.
I was bound tightly with bindings and straps
and made ready for whipping and slaps.

There was no talking and no useless chatter.
No use for debate or appeals on this matter.
Deliberate and cold, her actions not rash.
Well versed in the use of the brand and the lash.

What she had planned I was fearful to know
but her branding irons were beginning to glow.
How she would use them was abundantly clear.
When she would use them was the crux of my fear.

That first iron's contact was a thousand pin pricks.
I increasingly longed for her whip and it's licks.
Against my tight bindings I started to strain.
She told me my struggles were sad and in vain.

"You don't know the fix you've found yourself in,
your branding will now let the real fun begin.
You'll be trussed up tightly and chained to this wall
and there you'll remain till I come to call."

There was no use in pleading so why bother to try
on her kind gentle nature I would have to rely.
What was to befall me I had not a clue.
I could only remain here, imagine and rue.

Of her intentions I needed no proof.
Her return drew near, she would not remain long aloof.
There was no hope of escape the way I was bound.
I longed to cry out but could not make a sound.

Her presence was betrayed by her stiletto heeled foot.
She removed some of the bindings and the gag she had put.
An acquaintance was made with her whip and my back.
A keen sense for torture she surely did'nt lack.

The sound her whip made was really quite merry.
My shoulders and back were red as a cherry.
I felt that sensation from way down below,
my affection for her strangly starting to grow.

The stump of her whip she forced past my teeth,
her gloved hand caressing my ass red as beets.
Her claws drew blood lines across my bare belly.
She spoke to me then, my knees were like jelly.

"I'll release you now my lowly, sad elf.
Get down on your knees and pleasure yourself."
I got on my knees and did as she said
while she paced and laughed as I jerked off and bled.

Her hand under my chin raised my head with a jerk.
"To be my good slave I know is hard work.
I'm not as heartless as you may suppose
because I bear gifts to fit your repose."

She approached with butt plugs of rawhide, hard as gristle
and a varied selection of whips made from thistle.
I heard her to say as she pulled me upright,