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Jack’s Revenge

Kami Tora produced the two pictures used in this post and in Jack and Miss Forsyth as a pair. so I thought it would be neat to write two poems to illustrate the pictures. Kami Tora art lends itself so well to these fun poems, I find. Follow the tag to my other Kami Tora inspired poems. Enjoy!

Jack’s pride was hurt, just like his bum, Miss Forsyth whacked him so

His cock had risen as she did, and he gave the class a show

His bum was bare, his cock was hard, his tears were flowing free

And then his cock had shot a load, when paddled, ‘cross her knee

Jack had not been punished much, but it was actually quite nice

But Forsyth had hurt his manly pride, and for that, she’d pay a price

He wanted his revenge, you see, to right this painful wrong

He’d whack Miss Forsyth’s pretty bum, and hear her soulful song

He plotted long, he plotted hard, he just had to think this through

And then he got the perfect chance. It came quite out the blue

One day he had a Math test, his best and favourite class

His answers were a little off, but good enough to pass

Now Jack was used to being right, he did not like to fail

So when his got his paper back, it was quite beyond the pale

His parents paid out quite the fee to keep him at that school

So turning in a B+ grade, made him look quite the fool

His parents threatened to withdraw their little protégé

The teacher was at fault they said, “Jack should have got an A”

He told then not to worry, it was surely a mistake

He would meet his teacher after class, he knew what steps to take

He would put her in her rightful place, Forsyth would see the light

And so he met her after class, to convey his parent’s slight

“My folks, they pay your wages, see?” He came right out and said

“You need to grade me with an A, or you’ll be out of work instead”

She stood her ground, she stamped her foot. She was not one to be told

But then the Head was at the door and Miss Forsyth he did scold

“Young Jack’s dad, he built this school, he paid for every brick”

“So you will do just what you’re told. You’ll even suck his dick!”

With that, he left the pair alone, and Jack then took his cue

He smiled a knowing little smile. He knew just what to do

“You’ll write 100 times or more, ‘Jack always gets an A’

And when you’re done we can discuss the painful price you’ll pay

But first I think, a little fun. You know, the Head was right

If you suck my dick then I will know, you truly are contrite”

And so, on bended knee she went, and pulled his member out

And slathered up and down his pole, til he shot into her mouth

She chalked away, til the board was full, her mouth still full of cum,

And then he bent her o’er his knee, to spank her perky bum

He whipped her tights right down her thighs, her panties down as well

And marvelled at the gorgeous sight, of her rounded buttocks swell

He took a rule and whipped it down, red striping her fine arse

And kept on spanking at her bum, til she began to curse

She made such a noise, it wasn’t right. She wouldn’t stop her racket

So he put an apple in her mouth, and she bit down hard upon it

Now on he went, with vicious spite, spanking hard her naked rear

His grade, he knew, would now be A. Of that he had no fear.

Jack and Miss Forsyth

Jack was new at the Academy

So he didn’t know the drill

That Staff were Gods, and never wrong

So things quickly went downhill

One teacher in particular

The attractive Miss Forsyth

Was very strict about the rules

And the consequential price

For any lad, or any girl

Who questioned her reply

Well Jack was quite the cocky sod

So he argued, eye to eye

Forsyth fumed at Jack’s retort

“I’m having none of it!

You’d best get used to standing up

You’ll be too sore to sit!”

She had him write a hundred times

“I will do what she says”

And then she stripped him of his pants

And whacked his bum ablaze

He lay across her silken legs

His bottom bare to all

And then the paddle lit him up

And he began to bawl

And then she felt his willy grow

So she trapped it, twixt her thighs

And whaled upon his naked rear

Til his member did arise

She whacked him with her paddle

She made his bottom sore

She kept on spanking very hard

Until his cum shot on the floor

Teacher’s Critique

“Ah Rudi, thank you for staying behind. I think we need to have a chat about your contributions to the Creative Writing workshop.”

“What do you mean, Alicia?” Irepkoed, acting the innocent. I had hoped for a reaction to “The Yellow Dress” and maybe this was it, I thought. She had provided my inspiration when she wore a short yellow summer dress to our summer school class a few weeks ago. I hoped this might be the moment to break the formality of our student-teacher relationship.

“Well I hope you realise I’m no prude, but I don’t feel we can do a proper group critique when you write about caning a young lady’s naked bottom, and the …” she struggled for the right words, “The aftermath. What will the ladies in the group think!?”

“Well they might quite like it.” I was a little flippant. “Better than their trite love stories at least. They probably all have 50 Shades of Grey in their library.”

“Not the point and you know it!” she snapped. “You know there is more art in showing rather than telling. What’s left to the imagination is at the heart of erotica. Graphic displays belong with pornography, and that debases us all.”

Clearly I’d touched a nerve. “Okay, I’ll bite. Tell me what you mean.”

“Okay, let’s take this section;” Alice read the passage, her crisp English accent adding a certain frisson to the words.

He slipped his fingers into her waistband, and slid the knickers off her cheeks and down to her feet. He could sense the bounce of her cheeks as he palmed them, and the sight of her tight hole revealed deep in the cleft. He imagined it was he who then applied twelve hard, slow stripes to her cheeks. Afterwards, with her still bent, he would step behind her to paint the red stripes with the juice seeping from his hard cock. With his orgasm mounting he imagined sliding his cock deep into her tight, young cunt, gasping as his release came.

Hearing my words read aloud by this beautiful woman sent shivers through my body, exiting through my penis and jolting him into a full, steaming erection. As she finished reading the atmosphere almost crackled. She looked up from the page.

Her voice caught a little as she critiqued my work. “Obviously the imagery is very strong, Rudi. But I wonder if it might be stronger still if you were to paint a picture and show the reader the situation, rather than telling them your fantasy. Allow the reader to see themselves in this young woman’s place perhaps?”

I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. I croaked out a reply. ”Well, you see this is all imaginary,” I began. “I’ve never actually been in this situation. I don’t think I quite know what you mean.”

“So you’re breaking a second cardinal rule, which we will address shortly. But in the meantime, perhaps I can help. Have you ever written from life?”

“You mean, like sitting at the beach and using words to paint the scene? Yes, I’ve tried that.”

“Okay, so let’s try that route. I want you to paint the picture you see.” And with that, Alicia bent from the waist in front of me. She slid her hands over her buttocks and down her thighs to catch the hem, and then slowly lifted the fabric up her legs and over her cheeks. I know I gasped out loud as she revealed her bottom. Her cheeks were full, lightly tanned and essentially naked. A black strip of lace plunged from the waistband down into her cleft, where is disappeared between the full twin moons. She spread her feet slightly and the cup of fabric encasing her mound came into view.

“Now,” she said, “I want you to use all your senses to embrace what you see. Your writing will be so much stronger as a result. Feel my bottom, use your eyes, be aware of my scent.”

I stepped closer and gingerly cupped her cheeks, sliding my hands up and around her smooth flesh. My fingertip lingered on the slight scratch of the lace, hooking beneath the dividing strip to ease it up and out of her cleft. I could smell a perfume mingling with the scent of her arousal as I slid my finger down the lacy divide to the dampness where her mound was cupped.

I was lost in the sensations of this beautiful bottom. Alicia broke the spell. “I think you need to know what it feels like to cane a woman, if you are to write good erotica,” she said. “Under my desk there’s a package.”

I retrieved the slender bundle and withdrew a length of rattan, maybe two feet long with a bound handle and 3/8 inch in diameter. The wood was burnished brown and seemed old.

“Take your aim carefully. You want to strike my cheeks, and not whip around the side. Stand to my left and extend your arm so that the tip rests midway across my right cheek.” I did as instructed, still in awe that I would actually cane this delightful bottom. Alicia reached back to check my placement of the cane.

“Good, now pull back and let me have it!” I moved my arm back to a 45 degree angle and snapped it back down. The effect was very underwhelming, and lacked the crack I had imagined. Alicia was ready with a sharp critique. “You’re too stiff!” she snapped.  You need to end with a flick of the wrist. Try again.”

I positioned myself again, pulled back and snapped the cane into her cheeks. It felt better but didn’t have the satisfying thwack I had imagined. And Alicia had barely moved at all under the impact.

She sighed in irritation as she straightened. I know I whimpered a little as her skirt fell, hiding those delightful twin moons. Had I lost my chance to stripe her cheeks and maybe more through my own inadequacy?

I realized she was speaking to me still. “You need to give it more oomph. Here, let me show you.” She took the cane from my hand and snapped a stroke into thin air. 

“No, that won’t work. You can’t get the effect without an impact.  Bend yourself over and I will show you what a proper stroke feels like.” 
I hesitated, naturally, stammering my preference to decline her offer.  “Oh come along, Rudi. We’re both adults here. You didn’t think twice when it was my bum on the line!” she laughed. “Get your shorts down and bend over. You can’t write what you don’t know.” 

As I continued to prevaricate she reached forward, grabbed my waistband and whipped my shorts down, dragging my underpants off in the process. My erect cock bobbed  as he was suddenly exposed. 

“Oooh, now that’s a nice surprise for a lady,” she smiled, as she squeezed my shaft gently. Then, using my cock as a handle she guided me into position. And so i found myself bent over, hands on knees and feet spread, waiting for my first ever caning.

Alicia talked me through her preparations in real time. “Arm out straight, cane tip in the middle of the far buttock cheek. Tap a couple of times for luck,” – her ‘taps’ were rather more solid than I had envisioned! – “And then back and down with a flick of the wrist.” As she spoke I heard the brief whistle as the cane descended and then the momentary sensation of the impact as my nerve endings shot messages of surprise and pain to my brain. The reply was swift and unequivocal.

I shot upright. “Jeezus that hurt! Did you have to do it so hard?” I was rubbing my rump in indignation, forgetting for a moment that I had already delivered two strokes to Alicia’s tender cheeks.

“Don’t be such a baby. That was a gentle stroke. Your heroine gets 12 from you! Get back over. You need to know what you’re writing about.” She was teasing my deflated cock with the cane tip as she spoke, and quickly got the reaction she had intended. 

“When we’re done, you can try again on my behind, see if you’ve improved enough to finish the story.”

 Driven once again by my groin and the unstated promise of more action to come, I reluctantly assumed the position once more.

“Now, to give this caning some purpose, let’s apply some rules.” Alicia was clearly getting into character. “You must count and say ‘thank you Miss’, and if you move, you get extra,” she instructed. “Now you gave your young lady 12, so you get the same. Count!” The cane whipped down, far harder than last time. “ONE!” I yelped. “Thank you Miss.”

I don’t know how, but I stayed down for all twelve strokes. I was sweating, panting and quivering as she dropped the cane and gently ran her fingers over the criss-cross of welts that decorated my cheeks. I knew now that a caning was not some lighthearted erotica, but a serious, painful experience. And yet, now the immediacy of the pain was over the heat and tingling suffused into a depth of sensation I had never felt before. I felt alive, so alive and invigorated, cleansed almost. 

I felt Alicia’s hand as she cupped my balls from behind, gently teasing life back into my cock.

“Now, that’s a caning,” she whispered as she stroked my shaft. “And if I recall your narration, you took this and fucked your heroine. We can swap over for that part, or if you prefer, I have a dildo in my bag …”