A story of sex in erotic haiku

A series of erotic haiku depicting a women’s first intercourse, #8 is based on actual events as related to me by a friend. I am the original author, some were posted elsewhere at various times.

Haiku is a Japanese poem of seventeen syllables, in three lines of five, seven, and five, traditionally evoking images of the natural world. English versions are not quite the same.

cool breeze nipples taut
twirling tongues kiss frantic dance
clothes fall as ripe fruit


black lace wisp teases
hands fondle legs gripping thighs
eyes desire close look


an aroused woman
wafting scent making cock hard
warm mouth lapping juice

lovely rosy hue
blushing cheeks warming quickly
harder strokes needed

tears flow swollen lips
spanking fast pink turns to red
shimmering heat burns


licking sweat off cheeks
parted globe pucker winking
beast growls deep in throat


fuck me her first time
you man enough to take this
do you need a pill

wet flower opens
throbbing clit metal gleaming
hard thrust breaks bondage


nails scrape lines down back
penetrated deep thrusting
screaming orgasm


bronzed by sun flex arms
red fingernails touching hair
quick strokes sperm arcing


Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie: Episode #3

Pity poor Stephanie 25-years old and still spanked daily. She was intelligent, a college graduate with honors, articulate, a fasionista with a good job and an all around delightful person with never a cross word and always a genuine smile for everyone. It was to her misfortune that she also exuded an innocent sensual charm leading men and women both to have one uppermost thought in their minds: spanking Stephanie’s spectacular and epic rounded bottom. It was not her fault, genetics had blessed her with both the ideal rear end plus a delightful bewildered submissiveness. It simply never occurred to her to challenge her discipline, if someone needed to spank her well obviously she was guilty of some offense and thus deserved to be spanked.

Click here for the complete Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie series

Click here Wicked Wednesday “If there’s no way”

“Ta da!” Stephanie spun in a circle, the flounced hem of the dress spinning around her knees. “I get to wear this the rest of the day! I’m so happy.”

“Didn’t we all hear you getting spanked rather hard earlier?” asked Lauren voicing what the others were all dying to know.

“Well… yes, but that’s OK, I was being disobedient about getting naked. Ms. Amandoire was being perfectly reasonable in her professional expectations. That’s not important anyway, what do you think of this dress? It’s perfect for me. I feel so pretty.” Stephanie hugged her arms and did a little dance. “Oh I almost forgot; I wouldn’t want another spanking now would I?” winking to the girls. “I’m to go out and buy lunch for everyone and it’s free!” Stephanie floated out of the office after stressing she remembered everyone’s order and didn’t need to write it down. There was lots of head shaking and dire predictions after she left.

Lauren said it best.”She’s the sweetest soul I’ve ever met yet the most deserving of every spank she receives.”

Stephanie was feeling quite proud of herself that she’d made it to the deli, placed the orders and was headed back, all without any problems. Just wait until the girls get their lunches, they’ll be so impressed.

“What do you mean it’s wrong?” Stephanie was bewildered. “The deli must have messed up! I got salmon on sesame bagel, tuna on wheat, egg salad with mustard, pastrami on rye, ham and cheese on hard roll and German potato salad with bacon. I know I remembered correctly. It’s not fair.”

The rest of the girls assured her they’d eat the food even though the combinations were slightly wrong, but Stephanie was disconsolate and only picked at her chicken breast and veggies. They patted her on the back and said it didn’t matter, the food was very good and in any case, all they had to do was swap the bread around.

Lauren asked her, “Will you eat your lunch and smile if each of us gives you a couple of spanks? Will that make you feel better?”

Stephanie bit her lip and nodded, eyes downcast. “I hate being such a screw up. I still have to be paddled for being late this morning.”

“Oh honey, you’re not a screw up,” they all said in unison.

They got up and crowded around her in a big group hug. Afterwards Stephanie stood up and leaned forward slightly on the table requesting another spanking. Each of her coworkers passed by spanking her twice moderately. When they’d finished Stephanie told them, “Thanks. You guys are the best. What are you waiting for? Let’s eat!”

After lunch Stephanie spent the rest of the afternoon on the website updating inventory and making sure the social media feeds were all working correctly. She also began formatting the new collection catalogue she’d modeled in the morning using the photos Tigre had selected and transcribing Ms. Amandoire’s product descriptions. All too soon it was 5:30 and time to face Mr. Tardy.

“Right on time.” Ms. Amandoire sounded pleased. “Excellent. Let’s get started so we can all go home. You will tell me about the dress while you’re under my paddle. Fetch it now.”

Stephanie bent over the desk, the paddle delivered and poised to strike. Crack! “Oh… I like the dress… Crack! the fabric flows… Crack! ow, ow and doesn’t pin… Crack! sssss… pinch when I sit or turn. Crack! That hurts so bad! Crack! ow, ow, ow. I think the hem should Crack! be shorter Crack! and Crack! no Crack! rufflesssssss.”

“That’s ten for tardiness. Stand up please.”

Stephanie danced on her toes, both hands frantically rubbing her flaming bottom, panting heavily.

“You still have the accrued interest to receive, but you need to return the dress to storage first since you can’t wear it home. Take it off now.”

Stephanie’s face blushed red to match her rear. “I’m still naked underneath ma’am.”

Ms. Amandoire very sternly said, “Take it off, return it to storage and come back. You have thirty seconds starting now. 30, 29…”

Stephanie shrieked, quickly whipped the dress over her head and ran naked out the door and down the hallway. The rest of the office left working watched open-mouthed as she raced past; over the intercom the numbers counted down. 23, 22, 21, 20, 19… She hung the dress on the rack and sprinted back, her breasts bobbing, tummy wobbling her bright red buttocks pumping as the count reached single digits. 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Time! She put her hands on her thighs trembling and gulping for air.

Ms Amandoire lifted Stephanie’s quivering chin with the edge of the paddle. “Only three seconds slow. That means eight more in total. Bend back over and lock your hands behind your knees. These last spanks will all be given quickly within fifteen seconds and leave lasting marks. Do not let go no matter how much pain you’re feeling or I will start over at the beginning!”

Stephanie was a well-chastised girl when she finally left for home promising to be on time in the morning. Once there she rushed to the bathroom desperate for a cold cloth. Straining over her shoulder, she gasped in shock at the state of her bottom. No wonder she could barely sit riding home! It was dark red with deeper patches verging into blue on her sit spots and along the crease. The water and lotion helped sooth the surface but she knew it would be days before the punished flesh returned to normal. Looking in the mirror she vowed, no more spankings young lady. Stop being so naughty!

She put on the loosest pants she owned and started dinner. She leaned on the counter sipping her wine while reliving all the spankings she’d received during the day. I do believe it’s an all-time record. Cheers!


Stephanie spun around in horror. Her dinner was burning in the skillet! She waved her hands, pan off, stove off, towel flapping, smoke alarm not stopping.

A frantic pounding on the front door, “Stephanie! Are you in there? Open up!”

“Oh no!” Stephanie cried out in despair. “It’s Mr. Johnson!”

To be continued next Wicked Wednesday in Part #4




Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Ruined for Billy Joel

Friday Flash #6 monthly prompt ‘Leaving an Italian restaurant’ based on this picture


He had an appartamento near the docks where he worked as a stivatore, run by the Mafia, slipping cargo past customs, cigarettes and girls from the Balkans. He met her there, an investigatore rescuing slaves, ben educato, he illiterate, but sly. The gutters defined him, grab what you can before it washes downstream. Muscled the waterfront, never saw anything kept his banconota in battered olive oil tins. She sought him out. Informazioni per favore. sì. In exchange, what he wanted. Her posteriore. Laughter, she left him, always leaving and coming back for more. Over the table, plates pushed aside. Thick leather pulled from loops, doubled and swung. Always raised buttocks meeting lash, driving and parted: a yowling aria, neighbors silenzio! Sometimes inside, after the spanking. Belt, hand. Red welts and blue bruises. Orgasmo he’d eat sometimes, southern dishes, fiery passione before frozen ghiaccio stole his breath. Slipped away, dirty dishes, wine dripping, dripping spreading: Vergine Maria in vino! Miracolo! Miracolo! He would be famous. No, it is only Mussolini. It was upside down hanging meat. Last time beating leaving for Napoli, Vesuvius he was. She leaves, his camera too late, striding away, always away never his, no amore, no Romeo. She was never his, only used for her desires, the contani spilling from olive oil tins, gifts always the gifts, never her pulsing heart. If she had one at all. So he’s here, to forget, our Italian restaurant, a bottle of red, a bottle of white…

He hated that song. Chianti bottle empty even turned upside down, drops hovering above white linen bleeding, always bleeding the craving to pulverize silica and why the stupid candles? What’s with the fucking candles!? Do you see her? The sepia legs once enveloped, mounted and rode pink glistening notes shattering goblets that once held pale nectar drunk toasts of forever. Took the image, here on the threshold, granite steps when ascended pesto and garlic, men in dark silk suits women: don’t forget the women. Sweeping dress a gift, bag gift, bracelet gift, shoes a gift, gift, gift! Always giving… always weeping. She was spaghetti alle vongole, a hot sirocco, sand abrading flesh, slithering and writhing, doused with rosé; she liked rosé the color of her bottom after, always after the session. Walked away, every… single…time she walked away! Bicep, you see? Feel. Hard, strong, hand of steel. He hated that song. She’d call, weeks months, she’d always call, again, another round. Drop the bag, the bracelets, slip the shoes, dress flung to floor, pulsed artery in neck. Empty, even upside down, denim thighs bulging lifting bales of Egyptian cotton watered by Hapi: empty as hand turned pale Riesling to purple Burgundy. She loved wine, spanking… she walked away. Used, recycled glass, maybe this one: empty Chianti bleeding on white linen. She wanted – craved – desired – used by laborer, sweaty, strong you doubt? Took that image, on the wall. Momento last time. Cutting shards, fingers tease print from frame. Mine, always mine. Polizia here, lire soak up the blood.


Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie: Episode #2

click here for The complete Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie Series

click here for Wicked Wednesday prompt

Pity poor Stephanie 25-years old and still spanked daily. She was intelligent, a college graduate with honors, articulate, a fasionista with a good job and an all around delightful person with never a cross word and always a genuine smile for everyone. It was to her misfortune that she also exuded an innocent sensual charm leading men and women both to have one uppermost thought in their minds: spanking Stephanie’s spectacular and epic rounded bottom. It was not her fault, genetics had blessed her with both the ideal rear end plus a delightful bewildered submissiveness. It simply never occurred to her to challenge her discipline, if someone needed to spank her well obviously she was guilty of some offense and thus deserved to be spanked.

Stephanie rushed through the doors, I’m late I’m late and carefully sat down at the back trying to avoid eye contact. The daily staff meeting was run with precise punctuality and all the girls made sure they were early. Stephanie squirmed on her sore bottom and listened while the schedule for today was discussed and stood to leave when it was done.

“Stephanie. A word please.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Ms. Amandoire claimed to be French, but her employees suspected she was faking because her accent vanished under stress. “You were ten minutes late darling.”

Stephanie’s guilty gaze darted to the wall where Mr. Tardy, a long thick wooden paddle hung threateningly. All the girls were paddled on occasion for tardiness, but only poor Stephanie was on a first name basis with him. “I’m sorry ma’am,” stumbling through an explanation ending with, “been spanked four times already!”

Ms. Amandoire nodded sympathetically. Stephanie earned her high salary by competently running the e-commerce website and social media, but she always seemed to be in need of discipline. “I can defer Mr. Tardy until the end of the day, with interest of course, however you’ll need a short session over my knee that will not count towards your total.”

“Very well. I’ll take the spanking now and the paddle after work.”

After the solid hand spanking reignited the burn in her bottom, Stephanie took a juice and yogurt from the break room looking longingly at the donuts and Danish, before heading to her desk. She enthusiastically greeted her co-workers with hugs and kisses; her ability to bounce back from punishment was a source of awe and envy. She barely had time to turn on her computer and sit down, when Ms. Amandoire summoned her. She exchanged panicked glances wondering what she’d done wrong now before racing back to the office she’d just left. She waited outside when she noticed Ms. Amamdoire angrily yelling at the phone before hammering the end call.

“We have a serious situation. Fredarika and Madison are a no show for the fitting. The agency apologized but there are no other girls to send until tomorrow and that is too late!” Ms. Amandoire stabbed her forefinger at Stephanie. “You will be working with me this morning young lady. You are going to model the clothes.”

“But!” Stephanie sputtered, “we do haut couture and I’m size 12! I’m not a model, I do the catalogue!”

“I understand darling, but these are from the new plus line. They’ll fit with slight adjustments. Come now, stop fussing, the crew is here and time is money.” She grabbed Stephanie by the ear and fairly ran down the hall to the studio.

“We’re here!” Ms. Amandoire air kissed the photog and snapped out directions. Stephanie found herself behind a screen with several people pulling at her clothes and hair. She tried fending them off in self-defense when stripped to her bra and panties and yelped when Ms. Amandoire gave her two solid swats on her sore bottom.

“Stop fussing, you don’t have anything we haven’t seen before.”

“But the photographer is a man!” she protested when he peeked around the screen and winked.

“Oh darling, you are such a doll. Do not worry about the great Tigre, I have risen far beyond mere petty concerns of the flesh. I…” he paused dramatically, “am an artiste. My camera will serenade and make love to you: bring out your deepest desires. So say I, the great Tigre!”

“Oh for crying out loud Stephanie! Take off your underwear so we can get started already!” scolded Ms. Amandoire dragging her over to the makeup table. Sitting down, Ms Amandoire threw the squalling Stephanie over her lap, unsnapped her bra, whipped off her panties and laid into the bare bottom with a hairbrush all the while lecturing the sobbing girl. “You will obey me and do this photo shoot in a professional manner or I will spank you all day! Do you understand?” A hard volley of spanks caused the howling girl to scream yes, yes at the top of her lungs. “Now fix your makeup and stop blubbering, those were barely love taps.”

There were twenty outfits to shoot and by the end, Stephanie had forgotten she was naked in between changes because she was having such a great time, laughing and clapping with delight. Even her stinging bottom faded away when she sorted the proofs with Tigre and saw how beautiful they were.

“Well done Stephanie,” Ms. Amandoire praised her. “Why don’t you wear this last dress the rest of day and tell me how it works later when you come for your paddling.”

Stephanie looked up with pleading eyes.

Ms. Amandoire wagged her finger. “None of that now. You know you deserve all your punishments.” She squatted down and gently turned Stephanie’s chin toward her. “I know you think I’m too harsh. You are a beautiful woman with a beautiful body. You’re not fat: you’re not stupid. You happen to need regular discipline to bring out the best in you and that’s OK.” She leaned forward and kissed Stephanie’s brow. “I love you… now go out and get lunch for the office, my treat.”

To be continued next Wicked Wednesday in Part #3



Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Spanks for Dinner

I am the original author. Posted elsewhere 3/8/08

“Logan,” she said, “I am so excited about tonight. Where are you taking me for dinner?”

Logan continued to smile at Hillary saying nothing. He moved his eyes up and down her body nodding slowly. He raised a finger and slowly twirled it in the air.

Hillary took a trembling breath and spun in place causing her short skirt to flare to the top of her stockings. Again he raised his hand and motioned her to lean forward so that her dress revealed her cleavage. Her nipples grew even tighter in the caress of her silken bra that lifted her breasts in offering to her lover, now Master.

Logan moved closer and gazed down at her blond hair spilling over her shoulders as she waited with bowed head and firmly grasping her chin he raised her up to look into her green eyes.

“Do you have everything I asked you to prepare?”

“Yes Logan, and I can’t wait…”

Logan swiftly turned her around and bent her over. Two hard spanks, one to each cheek echoed in the entryway.

“What is my name, pet?”

Hillary moaned in his firm embrace, “Master, sir.”

Logan spanked her several more times, Hillary squealing at each blow and then he released her and stepped back.

“No!” he stated as Hillary started to stand up. “Stay bent over, show me your bottom.”

Hillary looked back through her bangs. “I’m sorry Master, what?”

Logan narrowed his eyes, “A simple request pet. Show… me… your… bottom. Now!”

Hillary was embarrassed but so incredibly turned on that her pussy was free flowing with her fluids and she could feel her panties already soaked. She reached back and grabbed the hem of her skirt and drew it up to her waist exposing her cheeks snugged tight on the sides by the boyshort style. Logan could see faint pink marks from the previous smacks. He could also see the damp center of her sex encased by black silk.

“Are you turned on pet?”

Hillary could only nod.

“And how many times did you come when dressing?” Logan asked.

“Twice sir.”

“Is that allowed? Whom do you belong to?”

Hillary swallowed, “I belong to you sir. I am sorry I came without your permission.”

Logan waited while Hillary’s legs started to tremble with the strain of being bent over. Her thoughts were wild with anticipation, what would he do now.

“Remove your panties,” he said.

This time she did not hesitate, but quickly lowered them to the floor and waited for his next command.

“Pick them up and hand them to me,” he ordered.

Logan received her sodden silk and turned them inside out then walked over and grabbed a chair. Sitting down he said to her, “Come here and stand next to me.”

Hillary obeyed and looked down at the floor.

“You must be punished before we go out to dinner. I want you to have a nice red bottom to sit on tonight. Open your mouth.” Logan pressed her panties onto her tongue and scrubbed vigorously. “Close your mouth and suck them while I spank you.”

He grasped her waist and bent her over his knee, then raised her dress baring her pristine flesh. Raising his hand he brought it down with force on her bottom. Smack, smack, the spanks rang out with sharp crisp sounds. Hillary was even more aroused as she writhed on his lap. The tart and sweet taste of her pussy was filling her mouth as she sucked the silk frantically while the pain radiating from her sore bottom was going directly to her clit that was aching with need. All too soon Logan stopped after delivering nearly 100 hard spanks that had turned her bottom a lovely shade of pink. Logan raised her up and lowered her dress. Reaching up he caressed her ruby lips and removed the panties from her mouth.

“You no longer need these. Now we are ready to go out to dinner.” Offering his arm to her, “Shall we?”

Hillary nodded and they walked out the door the cool night air wafting up her legs and fanning her overheated and throbbing bare pussy. It was going to be a long night. She couldn’t wait to see what else he had planned.

Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie: Episode #1

Pity poor Stephanie 25-years old and still spanked daily. She was intelligent, a college graduate with honors, articulate, a fasionista with a good job and an all around delightful person with never a cross word and always a genuine smile for everyone. It was to her misfortune that she also exuded an innocent sensual charm leading men and women both to have one uppermost thought in their minds: spanking Stephanie’s spectacular and epic rounded bottom.
It was not her fault, genetics had blessed her with both the ideal rear end plus a delightful bewildered submissiveness. It simply never occurred to her to challenge her discipline, if someone needed to spank her well obviously she was guilty of some offense and thus deserved to be spanked.

Early one weekday morning Stephanie happily admired her curves in the mirror – I am not overweight she pouted- then bounced out the front door only to crash into Mrs. Garcia, her next-door neighbor, who was headed off to daycare with her three year-old twins.

“Sorry Mrs. Garcia! I didn’t see you standing there!” Stephanie exclaimed.

“How many times do I have to tell you to be careful?” Mrs. Garcia scolded. “I don’t have time to properly punish you right now, but I can spare a minute I guess. You certainly need a good spanking young lady.”

Stephanie hung her head, her long straight brunette tresses hiding her blushing face. You see, she always carried a heavy wood boar bristle hairbrush in her purse. Of course, the back of the brush saw the bulk of the action applied to her bottom rather than bristles through her hair. Stephanie reached in and handed over the implement to the waiting hand.

“Assume the position,” barked Mrs. Garcia.

Stephanie put both hands high upon the hallway wall, straining on tiptoe and thrusting her skirted bottom out nice and proper.

“Hello,” a new voice called out, “I see Stephanie has been naughty again.” Mr. Johnson was her other 5th floor next-door neighbor. An older gentleman he treated Stephanie as a surrogate daughter and she was grateful for his advice about the City.

“Yes,” sighed Mrs. Garcia, “she’s so clumsy.” The twins sat contentedly in their strollers suckling pacifiers as their mother started to swat sweet Stephanie.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

The hard weight bounced rigorously off the resilient cheeks.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!” cried Stephanie as sixty hard spanks were delivered quickly.

“Now let’s go, you don’t want to be late for work.” Both her neighbors gallantly escorted Stephanie to the landing and into the waiting elevator/lift. Once inside Stephanie turned to push the lobby/ground floor button when she stumbled on her Jimmy Choos and fell onto Mr. Johnson.

“Stephanie!” he exclaimed. “What is the matter with you? You are forcing me to spank you again.”

She nodded sadly in agreement, once more retrieved her hairbrush and placed her hands either side of the closed doors.

“Please drop her skirt.” He instructed Mrs. Garcia. “Now then, I am going to spank you over your panties until we reach the lobby/ground floor. Let this be a lesson to you.”

Once more the heavy wooden brush spanked her quivering buttocks. Mr. Johnson hit much harder and the smacks and distressed cries echoed loudly in the enclosed space. Unfortunately for the sniffling Stephanie the elevator/lift stopped at every floor going down and she was forced to explain to each new passenger, blushing profusely, that she was a naughty girl again. By the time the lobby/ground floor was reached, her bottom under her panties was a bright gleaming pink to the evident viewing pleasure of her fellow residents. Congratulations were offered to Mr. Johnson for a ‘job well done’.

One final loud spank on her bottom was given attracting the keen attention of others outside. “Hurry up girl,” Mr. Johnson scolded as Stephanie fumbled with her puddled skirt, “We all need to exit and you are holding us up.”

Stephanie hobbled out of the elevator/lift skirt around her ankles flashing her underwear to everyone in the lobby. She finally dressed again and headed towards the revolving door leading to the street. It was hard to see through blurry eyes and she brushed the doorman in passing.

“Good morning Miss Stephanie,” called the doorman, “your Uber ride has been here for the last five minutes. But first, you bumped me. Bend over my leg.”

The uniformed doorman, gold epaulets gleaming, slapped his white-gloved hand firmly several times onto her black skirted and sore bottom. Straightening her back up and gently pushing her towards the curb he said, “Now off to work you go and try to be a good girl.”

The waiting driver impatiently checked his smart phone and said sarcastically, “You’re late! I have other rides to pick up. What do you have to say for yourself!”

Stephanie sighed dejectedly – the weight of others expectations were so hard to fulfill – handed over her brush, and in full view of the passing pedestrians and vehicles, bent over the hood/bonnet. It was going to be a long and painful day.

To be continued…
Wicked Wednesday prompt



Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Jousting for the Golden Paddle and the hand of the fair Princess

A spanking fairy tale poem. I am the original author written and posted elsewhere 7/31/08

“The Princess and the Paddle”

the banners waved all over town
proclaiming the duel about to go down
dressed in their finest with nary a frown
all shoved and hit to see her fine gown
in truth none really cared
it was the knights who dared
and if they weren’t prepared
to be snared
oh well, they still stared
to see such virile hunks of men
riding by again and again
jousting and prancing
many a matron thought of dancing
comparing her spouse
who frankly was a mouse
in bed
lust in her head
bulging thighs
what splendid guys
soft cries
deep sighs
if only we had what the princess will get
a strong, faithful, fairly tasty bit
ours ain’t worth spit
we’ll admit
but don’t ask and don’t tell
he never makes me yell
just yawn
look at that brawn
mine’s all bluster
my what luster
when he’s done he snores
off to my chores
face it ladies, we married bores
loud cheers there’s a winner
if only we were thinner
look at the prize he’s claiming
that’s something needs taming
a paddle made of gold
to have and to hold
my he’s so cold
a blush to behold
if later from the tower
within her royal bower
from a window not shut
hear loud smacks on bare butt
then a mighty shriek
do not cheat and peek
it’s not what you think
all quivering and pink
for the knights who were bold
had never been told
that the Golden Paddle
and the lap to straddle
was not theirs, no indeed
not to mislead
or allow him to plead
but the Princess had a need
to do the deed
with all due speed
to proceed
and thrash
not bash
or slash
but spank that tight ass
it’s not made of glass
so she’ll make it last
until it’s bright red
and his legs nice and spread
then we’ll be wed
and you may plow me instead
make sure I’m bred
what say you fine knight can you think ahead
down came his britches
my, what riches
off with his shirt
oh my, you I want to hurt
good thing I’m a pervert
naked he stood
this will be good
do you agree
to lay over my knee
and be spanked by your bride
can you give up your pride
the knight gave a bow
said this I do allow
for now
for I vow
although I am brave
and promise to behave
to be your willing slave
I too crave
the crack of the paddle
lying over a saddle
I’ll turn the tables
over in the stables
alone together
scent of leather
bent over my knee
for pleasure you’ll plea
it’s the crop I decree
thus she was gushing
and without rushing
gave the first spanking of many
both received plenty
and they lived happily ever after.


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