Damage

He tells me that he hates to damage flesh
Especially the younger female sort;
But if I ever dare to get quite fresh
He'll point to his lap and, I know, he'll sort
Me out, because he can. He needs no thanks,
Simply obedience and acceptance
Of his hand on my bottom and the spanks
And slaps I really won't regret. And, once
He has launched the first, quite sure I'm ready:
The panties lowered; skirt up round the waist,
His arm wrapped to hold me still and steady,
My breath displaced as he smacks to his taste;
Then, once he's stimulated, aftercare
I offer him won't damage his affair...