I haven’t the right. I want to step back, to leave this man, this poet, for someone else to find, but I cannot. He is there, his heart beating stead... against my hand, and I am not possessed of the power to let him go. I feel the tears, building at the back of my eyes, threatening to spill over. I turn away, frantically. He can’t see me this way, know the depth of my pain, my need. But he touches me and I am lashed by that touch, rendered powerless. So I stay. Pulling me, back to belly, he. “Stand in front of me, baby girl, facing away so I can examine that ass,” you command. I quickly scramble up, straightening my hair & nightie, and then stand still with my arms at my side. I feel your rough hands travel up from my thighs to my cute ass encased in the silk g-string that goes with my nightie. I shiver a little bit because I remember how you loved telling me about all the spanks I would receive even if I was a good little princess. “Bend over and brace your hands on your knees,. More

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