A Quiet Knock

He's standing by the fireplace again,
His arm is on the mantle piece; he waits
For her to knock and, quietly, to explain
The error of her ways; forget debates,
She knows she's in the wrong and, yes, of course
She's cool on the outside, but senses heat
That she will feel soon; he'll have recourse
To canes kept by the fire irons; the neat
Arrangement suits him well as does the chill
That makes her tremble as she bares. She'll bend
Aware he whips without any ill will
Or irritation in strikes - she'll contend
With every burning swish; her pleasing grace
Will make it worth his stand by the fireplace