Damn it, Comet, hold still, willya? Christ, hasn't she figured out that every time one of the team twitches, it jerks the nipple clamps on the one behind her?

You'd think being attached to someone named Prancer would give her at least a semblance of a clue.

The old Comet knew better. She was a real pro. None of this mewling while the elves "primed the pump," as they liked to say. Hell, we've been training since summer. She should be used to the reins between her legs by now.

Except the little pricks always pushed it into the red zone before the big night, jerking the leads for up to an hour, fucking plugs practically bouncing, or at least as far as our crotch belts allowed. Amazing how much energy the eight of us can generate when we’re properly harnessed, as it were.

Look at those huffs of white vapor spewing from Dancer's nose. That lump of coal between her teeth will teach her to sass Frosty. I suppose the drones are shoveling the presents into the hold while the elders calibrate the wormhole trajectories and the supervisors amuse themselves in the driver's seat.

The next one who yells "Giddyup!" gets gored.

Countdown must be close to zero. I can practically smell the fat fuck already. Bowlful of jelly, my ass. More like rancid bacon.

Still, there were worse things than being closest to the sleigh. For one, less turbulence. For another, Santa's lash is too long to reach the holes in the winter leder. Sure, we enjoy having our haunches exposed to the elements and worse. Like the inevitable freezing rain over Finland. Always a thrill for the nipples.

Looks pretty clear outside, though. No sign of that dipwad Rudolph. Bet the elves are having fun with his nose anyway, or whatever you call that red thing sticking out from all those straps down there. By the time they're finished, it'll glow for days.

Hey, he was the one who wanted to play those games.

Yikes, take it easy up there! The old Comet was such a dear. Sure hope she didn't wind up in the drone barn. Or the kitchen...Jesus, anything but working for the missus.

Leave it to Vixen to accessorize her antlers. A real ho's ho.