masterjay: thepoeticsir: She didn’t love being scoldedOr even the notion of being disappointin
masterjay: thepoeticsir: She didn’t love being scoldedOr even the notion of being disappointing But her mouth often had a mind of its ownWhich brings us to this momentThe sass…Stayed in her pantsHer brusquely exposed derrièreLaid down furtively over Sirs lapShe struggled to reconcile thingsFeeling him fully dressed against her skinAnd his incredibly warm strong hands Pressing and caressing herEach breath catching in her throatArousal deepening with his cologne on herThe way he controlled her was humblingUnspeakably erotic and correctiveShe was reduced to a little girlArms and legs writhingWith every cathartic blowSpanked into a state of focusEradicating all doubt of her placeAnd all traces of bratty disgrace She needed thisHimThis bliss from within himHe could disarm her without harming her And the flood of treacle from her loinsHe made her taste right off his fingersHe worked his way into her mindCentering and possessing herBefore he was inside her sexShe always forgot her crisesWhen he brought order to her chaosDispensing his brand of disciplineOver his well dressed lapShe melted into himWith every ensuing butt slap @alittlespicy There’s so many lovely things about this poem, but let me just say this… I hate disappointing Sir more than anything. -- source link
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