Spanking Poem

[TheLoneGrainger]

It starts with pale skin, delicate and rounded; bent over my knee. Starts with the lightest of strokes, a feather of fingers o the backs of her legs, moving up, slowly moving up.

 

Anticipation, almost better than the real thing, but not quite. Anticipation, that quickening of the heart, that leaking as the brain tells the body; that wetness and musk.

 

A moment of stillness, an un-asked question. The raising of an arm. Tensing of the muscles in the gluteus maximus, that beautiful ass.

 

Then it begins. The hand goes all around the houses, not too hard, all around the houses. Infusing the skin, sending messages, sending messages to the brain, to the groin.

 

Now the hand goes up and down each side, 1234 1234, a little harder but nothing to cause concern, nothing to cause more than a shifting, than a coming to terms.

 

Up the pressure but not the tempo, listen to the chain on the cuffs tinkling. Feel her beginning to come into the moment, to realise she is here with me, stranded across my knee.

 

Now some variations, faster slower, faster slower, harder softer, harder softer. You know this is my love letter to you. You know you must accept it.

 

Pick a spot and concentrate, smack there, smack there again, again, again. The seas begin to roil and swell. The heat rises; minds are concentrated. Pick another spot and another.

 

Pause and bark, spread your legs, wider, wider. Now it begins again, for real, for the testing. Resistance begins, vocalisations, shiftings, and as always, a flash of anger.

 

Slower now but much much harder. Moving your targets down the back of her thighs, the insides of her thighs. Proper loud spanks. Red hand marks, the urge to close.

 

Keep going take her through the anger, don’t break her, just ride the anger. Ignore her pleas or better still scold her and tell her why. Naughty girls get red bottoms.

 

Naughty girls get red bottoms, you can repeat it as you spank. Naughty girls get red bottoms. The crisis is approaching the urge to escape. The urge to stop but don’t stop.

 

Pause and tell her ten more hard ones, ignore her begging hold her down if you must. This final ten are the telling one’s, the dark red ones, the meaningful ones.

 

After leave her there and stroke her. Whisper reassuring words let your fingers wander; if you think she has earned it, bend down and kiss her bottom, listen to her moan.