A little poetry for a change
By Harry Lewis
She trembles slightly, standing before the big black door,
Shivering as though touched by some unseen breeze,
And yet the day is warm, the air is still,
She wonders to herself again
‘Why am I here? Can this be true?’
Her mind goes back in time, to that time,
It now all seems so long ago, when she replied,
On some impulsive, self destructive whim,
To that e-mail. She read it and some deep and awful force
Told her the time was now.
Where did it come from, how long had it been there,
Dormant like some sleeping ogre,
Dormant until that message on the internet
Brought it to life, awakened like the sleeping beauty
But surely this was never beautiful.
The messages exchanged, he seemed to be so kind
As though his very purpose was to help,
To help her overcome a force she could not understand
And when she met him, face to face, she knew
Her fate was in his hands.
And still she could not bring herself to knock
To force herself to enter, to submit
Emotions fought a battle, more fierce than any war,
She should turn and go, she knew,
And yet she stayed.
She searched within the deepest corners of her memory
Was there some childhood link,
Some thread of unrequited wickedness
That drove her now to seek this awful fate
But there was none.
How long had she been there, she could not tell,
But suddenly her courage bid her enter
And, as if in a dream, she smote the door.
A footstep came towards the other side
And in she went.
He smiled, that gentle smile, that smile that put her at her ease
And bid her come into his lounge
Where they could talk and he could tell her of his plans
And she could make her mind up, one last time
And it was done.
He led her up the stairs into a well lit, Spartan room
A simple chair and table with no ornament
But on the table; there she saw a strap and then a cane
And then she knew her fate was sealed
And soon she would feel pain.
And now he was a very different, cold and awesome man.
Commanding her to change into the simple garb
He had instructed her to bring.
Plain skirt and blouse and plainer underthings
She handed him her list.
The list of sins and faults and crimes and misdemeanours
He had bid her write, to make confession
And now she’d come to do her penance
To make atonement with this sacrifice
The time was now.
He read the list, perhaps the flicker of a smile across his face
And then a frown, he bid her look at him.
He started to berate her, tell her off,
About the parking fine, the excess drink
Bu there was more.
He came now to the major crimes, her eyes looked down
She felt the sense of shame as he read out
That she had cheated when she earned her BSc
She’d plagiarised to get a good degree
But that’s not all.
He raised his voice a little, as if to emphasise,
The shame that she should feel
At having stolen from a friend
To raise the cash to buy the white powder.
She felt so small.
He told her that he knew that these were in a time gone by
But that she had to make amends
And, yes there was just one more thing,
Her faithlessness to her last lover
How did he know.
She had not written that upon her list, how could he know
But her racing brain was brought up in its tracks.
What’s that he said? We’re ready to begin
Her stomach churned as he brought her to his side
And then she bent.
He told her he would start with modest force, but even so
She would feel the stinging from the start
He raised her skirt, she felt the shame
And then, without a warning
The first blow.
Despite her readiness she still felt shocked surprise
And then, before her thoughts were gathered
A steady rhythmic pattern as his hand
Commenced its task in earnest
The pain began.
A pause, perhaps, she thought, that this was all, until she felt
His fingers at the waistband of her pants
And with one skilled and practised movement
She was bare, her slightly pinkened buttocks now displayed
She felt ashamed.
Harder now the spanking seemed to have a life force of its own
As though it were a force of natures hand,
The stinging heat began to make its mark
But she began to find an inner strength
She wouldn’t weep.
It seemed to last so long, laying there across his knee, determined not to cry,
But feeling something, something never felt before
Except perhaps in some forgotten, distant dream
A fleeting moment, but now his hand had stopped
He made her stand.
Now he was sterner, stricter, crueller than before, he said, ‘Now bend’.
He made her put her fingers to her toes
And told her that for cheating her degree,
She would be strapped and she should now prepare herself
For real pain.
He gently touched her skin with the leather strap, it felt so cool,
But even so she shuddered at the thought
Of just how much the leather tongues might hurt
And then the first blow came, it took her breath away
But she stood firm.
Each of the dozen blows became a fire that burned her, like the very flames of hell
She could not believe that this was real.
Soon she would wake from this bad dream
And all the pain would be no more
And then it stopped.
He said that she had taken that part well, but it was slight and what was yet to come
Would be the making or the breaking of her will
Her theft and drugs could not be overlooked, she must be caned
She looked with pleading eyes, but dare not speak. He pushed her down
Across the desk.
She was to count each searing, cutting, wounding, fearful stroke
He would not tell the number she would feel
This was atonement for her sins, no children’s game,
He tapped her now already throbbing seat
She felt nothing.
Then, as though she were in a trance, she heard a swish and then a crack
As the rattan wand delivered its first kiss
A moment past and then a flood of pain
Unlike the hand or strap, this cut knifelike
This was true pain.
It tore into her body coursing through her senses like a broken dam
She could not ever have imagined this
Had she but cut in half by swordsman’s blade
It could not have caused this pain
‘One sir,’ she said.
As each succeeding stroke fell on her like a burning wire
She felt such feelings as she’d never known
By number eight the pain was now a blur
She felt that she would never live
And then it changed.
Another feeling started, creeping like the velvet night,
Those nerves once screaming for relief
Were filling up her body with a different flood
Not now just pain, but something else besides
She felt release.
A blissful state, her mind was on another, higher, sweeter plane
And she was soaring, freely like a bird
And all the feelings hidden in her mind
Were rushing wildly, transporting her
To heaven and beyond.
He watched her as she lay across the desk, he saw her tremble
Not trembling now with fear
But in the aftermath of her sweet journey to that state
Of full repentance and its sweet reward;