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The track was deep in shadow after noon,
As trees stretched out tired branches in a sun,
So pallid that it could have been the moon,
Which shone down cold; it had barely begun
To heat the fence or dry the winter mud,
When she was told to lean, ready for use;

She wondered if his spanking her would flood
Her mind with thoughts so tangible, each bruise
Would stay as livid, as when it was formed
A mere moment ago, when she was stripped;
As, with a certain fury, she was warmed:
Her haunches and her thighs were soon well-whipped;
She'd barely slid her jeans on, when he turned
And called: the sun is cold, but she got burned.
Written by SweetOblivion
Published | Edited 2nd Sep 2017
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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