With Cane in Hand

A Poem

Image from claudchristian.com

She came with cane in hand while I was naked, gagged and bound
Her smile was predatory, and I quivered in my fear
She whipped it through the air; it made a most distressing sound
So much that, long before it struck, my eyes grew moist with tears
(I knew that cane would conquer me,
Quite long before she set me free)

My wrists were fastened tightly to the bedposts near the wall
My ankles, tied together, they were well-secured as well
I knew no matter how I thrashed, I’d get nowhere at all
The searing strokes would burn me like the leaping flames of hell
(I knew the strokes would make me scream,
And cut me like a laser beam)

She wore a tight black corset, and a matching pair of heels
She smiled at my predicament and tapped my bottom twice
I turned my flaring face, oh! what embarrassment I feel
Each time my red-hot lover takes advantage, cold as ice!
(I knew I’d caterwaul and shriek,
And not sit comfortably that week)

She whispered, “Are you ready?” as she lifted high the cane
I felt a thrill go through my naked body like a shock
I shook with fear, anticipating soaring heights of pain
My tears she would not pause to dry, my muffled cries she’d mock
(I knew at last my time had come,
And mincemeat soon would be my bum)

And then she dropped the implement upon the wooden floor
Massaged my naked buttocks with her quite well-practiced hands
Moaning in surprise, I wondered  what she had in store
Then heard a buzzing sound, and knew without a doubt her plans
(What then was buzzing in my ear
Would send me through the stratosphere)

You’ll never once hear me complain
Of missed appointments with the cane
Instead of giving searing pain,
My lover drove me quite insane!


Copyright Ⓒ 2013 by Aunt Carla
All rights reserved