Poem: Spanking Cribbage

I found this on my hard drive; I don’t think I ever published it! 

My wife and I have a game,
Spanking Cribbage is it’s name
For many couples play it nice,
Our version has some spice.

For I know my wife will win
A loss I’ll take, on the chin
It’s the only game I lose
So it’s the game we have to choose

The rules are simple, but quite fair:
My poor arse, it needs a prayer
We total up the score each game
The winning margin is the strokes of cane

Of course, she could pick up her belt
Or use a paddle to pelt and pelt
She could locate a wooden spoon
She did that, the other afternoon

My rear was bleeding and very sore
I looked like I’d been to war
But playing cards with my wife
Is tougher than Afghan strife

So, to our game the other day,
Sat on the floor, about to play
She gave me a wicked grin
“Double strikes, when I win!”

I was nude, she was dressed
She insisted; perhaps in jest
It saved time when she prevailed
To beat my arse, when I failed

She dealt the cards; I need a three
To give this player a victory
Instead, the turn up was a Queen
She rubbed her hands; she was keen

Fifteen two, four, six, eight,
One for the nob, and three for the straight
She giggled; rubbed her hands with glee
Double spanks, she reminded me.

I swore; I gave my wife some lip
She smiled and promised me the whip
She said she’d put my arse ablaze
If I was going to say that phrase

I really tried to win some hands
Minimise the damage in her plans
But my skin was cold and it’s hard to think
When you feel you’re at a skating rink!

The game she won by forty-seven
Ninety-four strokes; sounds like heaven
Unless the whip she chooses over the cane
That’s no enjoyment; just a wall of pain

She said look at her, look into her eyes
Get on my knees and apologise
For swearing at her, and being rude
Or she’d be in the mood

To ensure the whip was my fate
That she knows I despise and hate
I said sorry, and please excuse
The words I know I shouldn’t have used

She laughed and told me to pick the tool
That she would be using to be quite cruel
But paddle strokes on my rear
Do not feel me with fear

She pulled me across her knee
Told me to count to three
And on the stroke she would begin
To claim her spoils for her win

I’m not going to describe every smack
Just think of sounds: thwack and whack
I am proud to say, I did not cry or squeal
My wife hit my arse with gleeful zeal

I think she went hell for leather
But this is just bliss and pleasure
Being spanked is my thing
I like my arse to burn and sting

All those strokes being abused
My rump is now very bruised
But I’m a happy boy, you see
A crimson bum is ecstasy

And far from being a tale of woe
There’s a secret that I know
My wife’s cards are a marked deck
The backs are not plain blue check

For I do not know how to cheat
The coded cards are quite neat
But the clever pattern is the key
To her massive victory

But her cheating, makes my arse quite hot
And I liked being spanked a lot
My wife, she knows I am content
As she gives me, my torment

So I love her more each day
My lover, whom I will not betray
But whom I know I must obey
When we play cards, our special way!


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