Curing The Error

The error of my ways was once well cured.
He'd bend me on his lap and, then, would spank
My naughty inner pet. I was assured
He'd give me such a drubbing! I would thank
My lucky stars I was under his wing.
I knew to turn my bum cheeks. I was slapped,
Because I was aware each slap would bring
A further smart. It ensured I was wrapped
In the pleasure of pain. The faintest heat
Of his mark pleased him nicely. He could snap
His fingers and I'd raise the wettest seat,
Before I brought it down to fill my twat,
With his cock. I remember still his sprays
On my face cured the error of my ways.