Monday, April 15, 2013

From the Top Shelf - The Woodshed



I haven't posted a poem lately, so here's one that I hope will start your week off on a high note.


The Woodshed

by P N Dedeaux

As into the woodshed Elizabeth went
to atone for a moment's domestic dissent.
She espied an object designed to cause pain
An object which looked very much like a cane.

It could do her dire harm, our Elizabeth knew
for she'd suffered before its effect...black and blue
having bent her broad bum to its beastly embrace
and suffered its sting and the shameful disgrace.

Altogether her future seemed lacking in cheer
as her father, observing her symptoms of fear,
stated her sentence and set her ears buzzin'
"For answering back, Miss, the best of a dozen!"

"A dozen? Papa, oh please not so strict!
For cheeking Mama I've ne'er been so licked.
Oh Mercy, Dear Papa, 'twill cut me in two
Oh please let me off, if only a few!"

But let off she's not, despite wringing white hands
and a body that's trembling right there where she stands
her bosom so tense it might well be in milk
and lily white thighs, their surface like silk.

And now she is focused on Papa's thick stick
which now larrups the air so's to make her feel sick.
All her pleas were in vain, just elicit a frown
a click of the latch and a gruff "Take 'em down!"

Oh God she must strip, she must "take 'em down", quite
with fumbling hands bare her buttocks so white.
Though not long to remain so is our guess and fear
To judge from the way father eyes up her rear.

He eyes its appearance appraisingly now
as Betty disrobes with modesty's bow
and while father rolls up the sleeves of his shirt
her task is to doff, rather slowly, her skirt.

Now bare from the waist, heavy bottomed and broad
Betty blushes and stares, rather glumly, toward
the trestle o'er which she must bend her poor base
soon to be redder than even her face.

Her sense of distress and impending dire pain
increase at the sight of that frightening cane.
"Now get over tight and stick it right up
I'll teach you to lip, you insolent pup!"

Now that dreaded sawhorse has legs widely spread
and the end where she bends slopes down to its head.
So poor Betty is really extremely distended
an impartial viewer might call it well bended.

Upended, distended and thoroughly bended,
poor Betty, we fear, can not be defended
from that terrible flexible hickory stick
positioned and ready to give its first lick.

The wood writes its stripe with a grunted out "One"
for, heavens above, her chastisement's begun
and a flame of white fire courses through that young rump
as the second cut follows with sickening thump.

With the thump on her bottom, Elizabeth grips
holding hard to the trestle with in-bitten lips.
Three and four follow with plenty of time
for her father undoubtedly knows how to "lime".

And now he wraps round her the full of the tip
whose burrowing ache and blistering nip
extract his first 'music' - a quick stifled cry
Chastisements due toll, howe'er hard Betsy try.

Brave Elizabeth tries with her might and her main
to suffer in silence the scorch of the cane
but if seven is hell she gets eight at a run
her bottom is blazing, her pluck is near done.

Yes the pluck of poor Betty is seen in her face
when she turns it to daddy, as red as her base.
"Oh Father, oh please you have set me on fire!
Oh please, can't you cane me a little bit higher?"

"Please come up higher.." she piteously begs
"...the last two you gave me were down on my legs!
I'm trying to bear it the best that I know
but it isn't fair, daddy, to beat me so low!"

"You're cutting so low that it's down in the fold
where its tender and sore...if I might be so bold
I'll even take extra if higher you'll come...
In short, oh papa, please oh please just my bum!"

"I'll beat it..." he told her "...I'll beat it all right
just spread your cheeks wide and get it up tight"
and the last strokes he gave her were deadly and true
Betty yelped like a puppy and, be fair, wouldn't you?

The last that he dealt were so terribly strict
she leapt up as if by some mule she'd been kicked
for a second she seemed with the sawhorse to wrestle
in the next she had leapt from that terrible trestle.

She leapt up in terror as the last caught her well
clipping in underneath like a brand hurled from hell
it came right in to the region so tender, defined
the most feminine part of poor Betty's behind.

Poor prancing Elizabeth holds hard her rear
quite lost to all modesty now then I fear
as stamping with pain and howling her woe
she kneads her young bottom like soft stripy dough.

Kneading her buttocks and panting again
she writhes in the grip of real punishment pain.
Her father regards her, a light in his eyes
with a grin he confounds her - "Did I say you could rise?"

For rising before permission is given
is extra, alas - however you've striven
in vain poor Elizabeth falls to her knees
in vain do her salt tears now back up her pleas.

Once more she goes over in tearful despair
Once more stern papa whips that cane through the air.
The dozen's a butcher's - all ways of that word -
"Now off to your mother" is all that she heard.

Leaden limbed, dewy eyed and holding her bum
Betty dresses and drags herself off to her mum.
Her bottom is blazing, it seems twice the weight
the weals thick as fingers whose smart won't abate.

"Mama I am sorry, I apologise quite"
and curtseying Betty displays quite a sight
for turning she shows to mum her bare seat
its lily white hue turned the colour of beet.

She must turn and display the results of her crime
transgression's reward and humility's prime
the work of her father's skill with the cane
"Dear Mama, I shall ne'er answer back once again!"

With raised skirt in a corner our sinner must pass
an hour with the bible, while quite bare of ass
reading the prophets, while, rueful of face,
one hand rotating the skin of her base.

Bare of behind and a Bible before her
Elizabeth's mind is in growing disorder.
Her pain is below but her mind's overhead
where the squeak of a mattress, the springs of a bed...

...cause a blush to creep o'er Elizabeth's cheeks
hearing lusty large lungings, Mama's answering shrieks
as her father, as always after Betty's disgrace
exacts his reward from...a different place!!


From Hermione's Heart

14 comments:

Roz said...

Great find Hermione, thanks for sharing. Ouch - poor Betty!

Hugs,
Roz

sunnygirl said...

Thanks Hermione. Glad I'm not Betty.

Michael M said...

Lovely poem thanks. She got what she deserved.

ronnie said...

Hermione,

Excellent choice, quite a treat. Thanks for sharing.

Love,
Ronnie
xx

Hermione said...

Roz - I feel for her:)

Sunny - Me too!

Michael - I quite agree.

Ronnie - My pleasure. It's hard to find poems, so I was lucky.

Hugs,
Hermione

lilmisses said...

High note? Yes, but not that high! Ouchy!!
((hugs))

Minelle Labraun said...

I have to say I feel her pain...OUCH!!

Terpsichore said...

I do feel for her...ouch!

Hermione said...

Lil misses - Perhaps her shrieks were a bit too shrill:)

Minelle - Ouch and double ouch!

Terps - Poor girl. I'm sure she learned her lesson.

Hugs,
Hermione

Katie Rob said...

That was different and fun to read! Glad that my childhood was nothing like that! Ouch! Thanks Hermione! Hugs!

<3 Katie

Hermione said...

Katie - I'm also glad I didn't have any similar encounters.

Hugs,
Hermione

Red said...

This was fun to read..thanks
bottoms up
red

Kerrie said...

That was so yummy. Thank you. Although if mom is getting some of the benefits she should get some licks too! Just saying.

Keri

Hermione said...

Red - I'm glad you liked it.

Kerrie - Welcome! I suspect mom gets her own correction too, from time to time:)

Hugs,
Hermione