Twas the night before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas

IowaDom​(dom male) • Dec 25, 2019

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the hub,
Not a creature was stirring, not even my sub;


She was tied in her stockings in my dungeon with care,
With the hope that her Daddy, soon would be there;



Her bottom was paddled, now many shades of red,
;While the thought of an orgasm, danced in her head.
With my sub damn near naked, and me in my cap,
I’d just settled her down, for some swats on my lap,



When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the dungeon to see what was the matter.
Away from the windows, so no neighbor we’d flash,
Placed my hand on her bottom, still warm as fresh ash,



The moon on her breasts on my sub white as snow
Got me just a bit horny from my head to my toe,,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,



With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
I glanced at the clock, and it started to chime,

We were up way too late, now we had no more time.



My wishes I’d asked for raced through my mind,

Here we were wide awake, Santas here, in a bind.

We both were aware if he saw us awake,

Our tree would be barren, even though it was fake.

We dashed for the bedroom, got there in a tick,

But just too damn slow, racing good ol’ St. Nick.



He’d caught us awake, now the presents were lost,

But Santa just smiled, we all knew the cost.

My sub started weeping, laying there on the bed,

I knew in an instant, what had to be said.



Please Santa, I pleaded, it was not her fault,

I kept her awake, tied up by the vault.

She gives me so much, and asks for so little,

Her last Dom was cruel, he’d berate and belittle.



The gifts we have asked for, seem odd to the norm,

But I must find them, her heart to keep warm.

They’re paddles and crops, and tools for the top,

And blankets and cocoa, and things for sub drops



And nighties and leathers, and great stuff to wear,

Along with some comforts for great aftercare.

These things that we asked for, perhaps way too much,

Are things that we need, they’re not just a crutch.



He looked at my sub, so gentle and pure,

Then gave me a glance, as if to assure.

“my boy you are blind, it’s so easy to see,

But take some advice, from an old man like me.



All the toys in the world, would not be enough,

Not the whips or paddles or padded handcuffs,

The gift that is lent you, that rests in your hands,

This act of submission, belongs to no man.



For you see I have seen her, battered and weak,

With a heart so shattered, she just could not speak.

With her body and soul, and mind under attack,

So close to the end, with no will to fight back.



She has travelled a road, not many could walk,

In search of “a true one” not bullshit and talk.



Her soul has survived it, these heartbroken tours,

Not perfect for certain, but neither is yours.

The power within her, shines blinding and bright,

If you could just see it, if only one night.



A tear slowly rolled, down Santas red cheek,

He brushed back her hair, then again he did speak.

Take care of her son, protect her and pray,

Shelter her heart, and do not fade away.

Keep her and hold her and make her feel safe,

And worship the gift that you hold on this day.