Spanking Sentiment: a villanelle

Her body's scented with a sweet perfume,
Which pleases him when, bent over his lap,
She waits his touch and trembles in the gloom,

Now it is nearly midnight in his room,
And he decides she needs another slap,
So bodies can be scented with perfume.

It's a device: devised to make her swoon;
There's warmth in their connection. It's no trap.
He's done his worst; she shivers in the gloom;

She begs him to release her, lest too soon,
Her eyes glaze up: and she gives off the sap,
That fills the air around with sweet perfume.

He hopes to see her bottom by the moon,
Its light is cool, but she still burns: the clap
Of his hand on her backside brings perfume,
That still anoints his fingers in the gloom.