From the Top Shelf - At First, At Last

One of my readers sent me this lovely poem he had written about a woman's first experience with spanking, and another reader sent me the above picture. Thank you both - I think they go together very well.

At First, At Last
A sound introduction to spanking

“I’ve been a very naughty girl,” she said,
With a nervous laugh, though hardly contrite.
“Someone should scold me and send me to bed
For all of my misbehaviour tonight.”

“In fact, a daddy who knew what to do – ”
And her wide, bright eyes looked up at his frankly,
And a question hung there: could this be you?
“Would put me right over his knee and spank me!”

He wavers a moment: could it be him?
He feels a request: but is it a tease?
Then his arm goes around her soft and slim
Waist… Her hand gives his wrist a friendly squeeze…

He picks her up for a couple of paces
And carries her over to a stout oak chair.
The blood is burning in both of their faces
As he sits, and she stands in front of him there.

Then over she goes with a tumbling gasp,
Put in the place she herself has suggested,
And feels round her waist a much stricter grasp,
On the seat of her skirt a firm hand rested.

“What was I thinking of? Was it the wine?
It’s sweet in films when a girl’s bottom’s smacked,
But now that bottom is suddenly mine,
My distant dream is an imminent fact.”

She hears him say, through her thoughts’ crazy whirl,
As the warm palm’s raised from her derrière,
“You’re right, my dear. You are a naughty girl,
And therefore your bum will have to be bare.”

She gives a little moan, a writhe, a twist.
This scene is going further than she thought.
She squeaks no, no – but finds she can’t resist
As the rumpled hem of her skirt is caught

And lifted clear and folded on her back.
She gets the feeling, from between his thighs,
He likes the mix of creamy curves and black
Silk panties cupping them that greets his eyes.

Still, quickly they’re gripped by fingers and thumb
(For in this mood, delight won’t mean postponement),
Taut elastic’s pulled down over her bum,
Which quivers at the prospect of atonement.

“I’m sorry, truly I am – ” The sensation
She has so longed for comes, as hand meets rump
Resoundingly. It deserves an ovation,
The electric current that slap makes jump.

The brute, the monster – oh, how she adored him,
The gorgeous master he’s turned out to be,
And when he is done, oh, how she’ll reward him
With every tenderness this heat sets free.

But first she knows, for being such a minx,
His expert hand must raise across her cheeks
A blooming range of roses and of pinks
She’ll feel for days, and blush about for weeks.

The spanking she’s needed, all her young years,
The sting increasing by steady degrees,
Soon brings to our heroine grateful tears
As she lies there throbbing across his knees.

As for our man, his delight knows no bounds,
To punish this miss, so cool and refined,
With smart things stripped from the generous mounds
(His to command) of her queenly behind.

“Her tanning’s going to be long and hot.
I’ll make sure she literally can’t sit down,
With red prints merging on each tender spot
From her buttocks’ under-slope to their crown.”

A captured brat, whose stern guardian is mending
The mischief of her ways, whose perfect peach
Of a naked bottom, superbly bending,
Gets taught what she has longed for him to teach…

“My poor arse scorching fit to fry an egg,
I rock and kick to rhythms set by you.
I sob and squeal, I promise and I beg,
And every inch of me feels spanking-new.”

          *  *  *

And so she rose and rolled on waves of flame
And salty tears – a lesson unsurpassed,
Of joy in pain, of confidence in shame,
Learnt for the first time, though far from the last!

–Anon, 21st century

Whew! (fans self) That was hot! The poet is talented and knows his subject well. I do hope he would be willing to share more of his work with us. Don't you agree?