Christmas Sting

As my master and mistress greet each other on Xmas morning, none of the presents around the tree are for me, of course! The only 'gift' I am likely to receive over Xmas is the STING of their whip!

I kneel unobtrusively and obediently behind my mistress's slippered and socked feet as she embraces the master-sir on Xmas morning

She loves him, and he loves her

At times like this, I don't get a look in. And rightly so - I'm just their slave!

I diligently study the backs of my mistress's Xmas socks, as I am ever aware of the household WHIP hanging over me on the living-room wall!

Happy and joyful socks do not necessarily mean mercy for the household footslave at Xmas!

Her Xmas socks must be respected, adored and admired every bit as much as all her other socks!

For they are the socks of a goddess - my owner!

I study the Xmas-themed patterns in the socks...

...my back already stinging from a pre-yuletide whipping!

The source of my Xmas fear and anguish - the WHIP!

The crackling of the nearby log fire reminds me of the ever-burning sting on my back!

I MUST be pleasing to my masters and their socks over Xmas...

...if I am to avoid yet more angry STING from their WHIP!

Socks, or the WHIP?... I choose socks!

 

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