Saved by the Belt

Each stroke was another red stitch in the

poem of love embroidered on the

bare bottom of the brat and

bitch she knew she’d been before, the

boys and men she’d teased and

titillated and then left hanging, until

that night when this man

upended her over his knees,

quelled her effortlessly, her

knickers around her ankles, spanked as she

blubbed, squirmed, felt

humiliated, came hugely on his fingers, heard herself

beg and the door slam, the week he

waited until he summoned her, the

door opening and the belt in his hand that would

save her.