Saturday, 19 November 2011

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.

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