#135002 - 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. Down the stairs, he moved like a flash, To find to his amusement, his bound love’s failed attempt to the bathroom to dash; The pale moon’s light landed on her form, All sprawled out on the floor, limbs aligned much out of the norm. Laying his hand, down onto her chest, He started to play, until she, too, came, with her body, her love, and heat fully expressed.
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