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! |