Stop?

Hello, everyone in here. As I said to EB & Waterbaby in the non-erotic forum, this is my first ever erotic poem. This one is truly hot off the press. Usually I spend time (often years...) moulding & reworking things, so I've no doubt this will be improved & perfected over time, but I think it was worth writing, and I'm excited enough about it to feel it's worth sharing (or is that excited by it? Poetic language maybe added here and there, but description of a lovely recent moment :madfire:). I hope you enjoy. Oh - I'm afraid it's quite long.

Stop?

Even as I unlock the door, his hand is up my skirt.
He hisses fiercely in my ear, ‘You’re in such trouble, bitch’ -
I giggle, wriggle, God, how I love him talking dirt –
‘You little slut, just see how wet you are already,’
Then, no chance to say a word, the door slams shut.
He propels me fast across the room,
Fingers forced inside me, straight up against the sofa arm,
and thrusts my head hard down.
My arse exposed, he spreads my legs out wide
My knees tremble and I clench -
Perhaps from fear, perhaps just to incense -
My buttocks, white and bare.
I freeze. Ah God. That sound.
That tiny little jingle, which seems so loud,
As he undoes the buckle on his belt.
A moment’s wait – so still, such trepidation
And such trembling anticipation
Then the sound that’s sexiest in the world to me,
The soft thwrooow-p as,
in one smooth motion,
he draws the leather out.
I feel my spine arch, my buttocks raise towards him.
Very quietly, he laughs.
I risk a glimpse, the quickest peek under my arm,
And see him folding it in two.
He knows I’m looking and just flicks it - thwick!
but doesn’t touch me, then
He draws it slowly, softly, tenderly, across my skin.
I gasp.
He starts.
Oh god! The first hit is hard,
Much harder than I thought.
My head jerks up, and I cry out
(But such a strangled little sound
Surprisepleasurepain so mingled
Such fear and such delight,
But if I make too much noise, I might
Stop him.)
He strokes me gently with his other hand
To soothe, but even while he soothes
He strikes
The other cheek.
I grip the sofa hard. He’s hard.
Hard into belting me. I press
My forehead hard into the upholstery.
He thwacks. He strokes. He thwacks.
And thwacks and thwacks again.
‘Tell me what you want,’ he says
And draws the belt across my butt,
A gentle tease, a soft sweet breeze,
He blows upon my cheeks.
‘Should I stop?’ solicitious, yet mischievous.
He knows I know he knows
that I don’t want to stop.
‘Do you want more, my little slut,
My lovely little whore, do you want
My belt to strop your butt a little more?’
‘Oh no,’ I moan
A gentle little pat - ‘What’s that?’
‘Oh, Master, please, yes no,’ I groan.
‘Do you want more or not?’
A tiny quite moment
And then a huge enormous THWACK!
‘Oh, god, yes, please, please, please, don’t stop!’
Oh, Master, oh my Lord and Master
Never
Never
Stop