what a lovely ass, my dear
so round, so meant for my hand
so cool, as if it hoards the cold
so sweet and alluring
to not kiss it would be a transgression

and not to spank would be an abomination
a crime against all things noble
it begs for mercy, but yearns for marks
of rosy crimson pride
a heated flush spilling over to sex

but never in rage, or as punishment
for it’s better to have a bond of trust
between the empty hand which seeks
the ass, as much or more
as the sweet ass covets it’s Master, my hand.

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