Fault

When I vex him and he chides me
We will determine it’s my fault,
Should he spank me first or fuck me:
I'm the naughty girl who’s caught
With her hands in her hotbox,
Her fingers in her honey,
A half smile to ‘detox’ me
And ensure sir finds it funny
That, for all that I dissemble,
I'm so eager on his lap
With a squeal, as I tremble
And I feel such a slap
That it makes no real difference,
Whether modesty’s preserved,
Or I’ve overcome resistance,
And the wrath that I've incurred
Should fall upon me naked:
An obscenely, spread backside;
Or, as he's indicated,
Should he have my thighs spread-wide?
Should sir take in the awareness
That pleasure precedes pain?
When I bend in all my bareness
Should sir bring out the cane?
My knickers there at half-mast,
My moistened cunt's exposed,
I’m ready for that stripped arse,
So I lean down, touch my toes;
And then there comes the waiting,
Forlorn hopes I’ll be excused,
That twitching arse creating
A diversionary ruse;
Let me look over my shoulder
And remind you of that tongue
As I lick those lips; you tell me
My cheeks will not be stung,
Since it’s given sir due pleasure
As I knelt and gave sir head,
While he slapped my tits at leisure,
Before he beat my bottom red,  
And sir will not be distracted,
Every part will take its turn,
My breasts and bum attracted
And my pussy will soon learn
That it is not excluded
From the order of the day,
It’s been fucked and been denuded
And now it’s time to pay,
So I'll part my thighs, not daring
To not kiss the birch, before
Sir feeds pain to the starving,
Since I need the whipping more,
Having pleased sir in my anguish,
Having bent down as I ought,
When I vex sir and he chides me,
We will determine it’s my fault.