Carol Of The Brats

In response to the WL Christmas Song Challenge

Hark! How I yell
Oh how I yell
All I can say
Is "I should not pay.
Christmas is here
You're hurting my rear.
Please do not scold.
I can't be consoled."
"This is so wrong"
That is my song
With tearful ring
I am bawling
And then of course
My words of remorse
From ev'rywhere
Filling the air
Oh how he pounds,
On my two mounds
O'er Crest and curve
His hand does not swerve.
Sharply it stings
And my hand flings.
Oh my sore rear
I'm starting to tear.
Owie! Owie! Owie! I'm so sorry!
Owie! Owie!! Owie! I'm so sorry!
On, on he goes
Up on my toes
Will he relent?
I am so spent



She sat at the bar in her favorite club and watched Lisa flirt and play with anyone daring enough to show an interest. They were friends. Had been for as long as she could remember though they had long ago stopped counting the number of years. Neither was considered young any more even though they still felt as though they were in their mid-thirties. Their bodies were no longer perfect, their hair peppered with gray and their faces beginning to show the permanent creases that would only increase in number as time marched on. This was the time of evening that those in the vicinity of their ages came out to play because they knew few if any of the late evening crowd would even look their way. It didn't matter if you were Dom or sub; it didn't matter how willing you were or how hard you played. None of it mattered and it hurt. Dammit it hurt!