Perverts 'R' Us

The Seaman's Daughter: A Ballad

By Grade School Nurse ( F/f, spank, M, voy )

From a manuscript found in an attic

Now that daddy's home her mother's ire
Is seldom far from risen,
The worse for Susan's naked arse

With reasons never given.
Enough for mother that the lass
Has caught her father's sight,
In wiggling pertly when she walks
Those parts that men delight

Full eighteen months he's been to sea
And nary a lass was seen.
Many a back he's ordered flogged,
But none have raised his spleen

So warm as has his Mistress' brush
On roaring Susan's rump.
All bared, arched, soft, cool,
Smooth, white and plump.

He takes his pipe, takes his chair
And then unfolds the news.
He finds no item there to scan
Nor any tale to choose
One thousandth part as pleasant as
The sight before his gaze;
His darling daughter's big round arse
In its attired phase.

All chastely clothed it lies upturned
Where she lies upon the floor.
Her sturdy legs bent at the knee
So he is shown far more;
Than his lustful bum crazed mind
thinks it right to see.

He marks each frown and hears each breath.
His rage is mixed with glee.

He marks each shift, each smallest move
And lets his awe range free.
She smiles and coos and cozens him
And giggles oft with glee.
He blushes to his white beard's roots
And cranes his neck to spy,
The saucy hinder where it lies
'Neath flouncy skirts nearby.

He finds a tease in every wink,
A flirt in every smile.
He visions snares in every pout
And temptings in each wile.
He's now convinced her wiggling there
Is meant but to beguile.

The father sees her gait as flirt,
Her poise as arrogance,
In every smile a secret snare,
In every laugh a hurt.

He stares bewitched, he leers enflamed,
His entrails stir and simmer.
He marks her every shift of pose,
And as the light grows e'er dimmer;
He thinks it time his old dame learnt
The time approached that flesh be burnt.

But Susan's mind is set above
Such thoughts on higher things.
She longs to see her beau's sweet face
And all the bliss it brings.
The Captain thinks the lad's a fool
And quick to judgment springs.

His lustful thoughts his sleep assail,
Warm dreams invade his night.
He dreams of Susan's high set bum
And longs to claim his right
On all those parts she hides so close,
Their feel, their smell, their sight.

He cannot bear to live within
The same abode as where
His darling's charms are seen as sin,
Her nether beauties fair
As old Susanna's where she bathed
While two vile elders stare.

But Reason wins and Virtue reigns!
All else is impudence.
Poor Susan wiggles slow her butt,
She's blushing from his leers.
Her father measures well her strut,
The motions of those spheres,
Whose features etched on Fancy's page
Nigh raise his lust to tears.

With pain he rises from his chair
So straightened are his clothes,
That hold in those fast swelling parts,
His manhood in the throes
Of that damned lecherous itching where
The seed of offspring grows.

He walks with measured pace to where
His dame at sewing sits.
He puts his mouth down to her ear,
He hems and haws as fits.
He slyly asks if she thinks not

Young Susan needs to hear
A word or two on how a lass
Should e'er herself comport
When silly men are all about
Who heed each false report.
Of looseness in a sweet young maid
Who lets untoward praise be paid.

"Her age is such that it's a sin"
He whispers in her ear,
"To let her fundamental charms
Be seen by far and near"!
"I will not have it"! "Come what may,
Her big bare arse will have to pay"!

"Arrest her now! Convey her to
Her wonted room of pain.
Her spanking now is long past due,
Her pleas be made in vain.
I wish her spanked 'til rosy hued
Appear those saucy hinder cheeks so lewd."

Not now, but soon, poor Susan's knickers
Will rudely lowered be.
Her panties at half mast will fall
For Captain Parr to see
The roaring girl's large arse rotund
In all its naked beauty.
The dress will rise, the panties fall
While mother does her duty.

The sour dame her ear she grabs
And twists it with a yank.
Few words she speaks but "Come right here!
There's tears to flow and naughty arse to spank."
Poor Susan starts to plead and bawl
As down her cheeks the torrents fall.

With little said she grabbed her ear
And marched her to her room.
Poor Susan's pleas fall on deaf ears
While she prepares her doom.
Within the drawer beside the bed
Lies mother's favored toy;
Kept here for little girls alone
And far from any boy.

She marches her upstairs and down
The dim lit, chilly way;
The Captain follows close behind.
He cannot help but pray,
"Oh, Lord 'a mercy! Now she's got her
Firmly in her power!
I love her frown! I love her spite!
I love her evil glower!"

The Captain chuckles now with glee
And in half whisper orders,
"Now take good time, my dear, to see
Her panties show their borders
No lower than her smooth white thighs
With dress well hiked aloft.
I must be sure I well espy
Those lovely arse cheeks soft.

He gayly sings in accents low
"Not now, but soon, so soon
Her crabby dame will take her brush
And bawling Susan shown
The painful cost of lovely cheeks
That shake beneath her clothes

And ever tempt crude hardy boys
And sinful dangers pose.
Her buns will soon in oven lay
While mother's smooth backed brush
Will turn their dough from white to red,
Their pallor to hot blush."

The hour of Susan's smart is near
The time of lowered drawers
When mother's brush with tender pats
Her firing line explores.
With practiced arm she'll ply the brush,
With swats both fast and tart,

With expert aim and swiftness rare
That show a spanker's art,
She'll wages pay her saucy arse
In coin both fair and foul,
Her eyes will sparkle with delight,
Drolly will shake her jowl.

Poor Susan's snared, the jig is up,
No plea her dame will move.
Her peerless bum will soon be bared
Whose charms redundant prove
Unrest to every man and boy
And sinful stirrings move.

Now they've arrived within the room
Where hangs our Susan's fate.
Her mother's grin more moved by lust
Than born of spite or hate,
The dame severe now takes her seat
Beside her daughter's bed
And, softly says, "Now Susan, dear, before we're through
Your white arse will be red."

Not now, but soon the brush will fly
With more than manly speed
Athwart her naked hinder's crest
To prove her mother's creed:
A well spanked girl is God's great gift
To man and boy and mother,
And should be so to uncle too and aunt and little brother.

The Captain finds a straight backed chair
And sets it promptly to,
To better watch the moving scene
With unobstructed view.
He sits upon the utmost edge and cranes his neck in wonder
As mother starts her sermon now and Susan bawls like thunder.

Not now, but soon, the scolding far from done,
She reaches to the drawer
And thence extracts the dire hairbrush
She trusts to do the chore.
Not now, but soon, poor Susan's hoarse
From bawling all the while.

She pats there with her lovely palm
And says, "Let's find the source.
Let's find the source, dear Susan, child,
Of your unrest for men,
Whose comfort turns to visions wild
And fearful nightmares when,
Their baser parts enflamed, they jump from sleep
And grovel in the slime of th'impure deep."

The Captain gropes now furtively
Within a pocket down
Wherein there lies most verily
An organ swollen grown.
His eyes a wild excitement show,
A mounting glee upon his wan lips plays,
His mouth begins a wheezing breath to blow
He cannot bear more waiting or delays.
His face is reddening with his wife's unending scoldings,
He waits in bliss the cruel plot's unfoldings.

He muses half aloud for all to hear,
He cares not what a figure he now cuts:
"Not now, but soon, Oh, Lord,
But not too soon, not too too soon!
I love to hear her plot the story's pace:
The exposition of her lovely hinder cheeks,
The perfect placement that the lady seeks,
The prints of smart her well-aimed hairbrush place."

Anon the mother signs the girl to lay
Upon her aproned lap without delay.
No more she says, nor any word does parse
But, "Do it now and show me, girl, your arse,
Your saucy fundament from whence you rain
Temptation on those poor boys who complain
Of sleepless nights and days of lost content
Wherein their tender minds are ceaseless bent.

On satisfying their unwonted lusts
In private urgings of unhallowed scent.
Or seasoned men betraying all their trusts,
To wives, to kin, to public good and weal
And nightly to their fat arsed harlots steal
To slake impure imaginings in flesh
Of plump arsed strumpets all perfumed and fresh.

With howls, pleas, roaring and loud shrieks
The hapless girl obeys and yet still seeks
Some temporal protection from exposure
By hiding her fat rumps in close enclosure
Beneath her trembling palms which, one on each,
She tries in vain to temporize her plight
Though mother's warnings set things all to right.

The Captain mutters still in whispers low:
"Now, Lord, let it come now I humbly pray
The hour of this fat bottom's disgrace.
I pray my dame will now the issue show
Of Susan's coy flirtations to my face,
Her sin in stealing endless nights of sleep
From boys and men in throes of hopeless yearnings,
Of warm sensations that obscenely creep
With itch and seepage of erotic burnings.

The Captain grabs his groin with frenzied haste,
The dame feels deftly for the girl's low hem,
The girl stares wildly at the open door,
The room is silent as a tomb. The floor
Now proves the poor girl's last distraction
Before her dame begins her purposed action.

Her dame now reaches toward the girl's feet.
Slowly she lifts the ruffled dress below
To well above her narrow waist. The sweet
Fresh face is drowned in tides of tears,
Her wide eyed stare betrays her horrid fears.
She bites her fingers and screws up her mouth
For soon her panties will be going south.

But not before her bloomers fall below
And all exposed her pantied buttocks show
The fine superfluous bloom of fat white buns
While her strict dame her shapely right hand runs
In soft caresses o'er the vast expanse

Of tender buttocks which in shame now dance
In lilting motion 'neath her prying fingers.
Now each warm palm on each cool buttock lingers
Though, rising to the urge of Captain's pleas,
At length gives way to barer orbs than these.

She bawls out pleas and shows a sorry frown.
In bloomers all lies Susan's matchless rump:
Matchless in largesse, in rotundity a trump.
Her dame's a shrew, a mean self righteous frump,
The kind of wife the Captain most esteems,
Severe with girls but to the boys a lark,
She loves to bare a bawling girl's arse stark.

The boys' misdeeds she glosses with a joke.
Alas, for Susan there's the bitter yoke
Of frequent doses of her dreaded brush
Upon her fat cheeked rump until the flush
Of several dozen good well measured swats
Shows hot and swollen over every inch
Of arse flesh with the marks of every pinch
A crimson decoration on the plumpest spots.

The Captain's eyes are bulging from his head.
His red cheeks show a shame he seeks to hide.
But yet delights him when in private mode
No man is near his shyness to deride.
His mumbled words are witness to his thoughts.
They more than all reveal his secret bliss
"Not now but soon will come the stinging brush's kiss!"

Her dame's thin lips reveal a wicked grin,
Her lovely hand betrays a practiced ease
At grasping with each thumb joined to each finger
Where at her pace they deftly tap and linger
The waistband of the dumb struck girl's loose bloomers.

Now down they're drawn, down o'er her knees below
While up above her big fat naked rump cheeks show
An unchaste beauty, a rich luscious smoothness
'Neath pink silk panties edged in lace and ruffles
While mad with shame she shakes her lovely arse and shuffles.

The arrogance of those two nether cheeks
Like gale force winds in two enormous sails
Tells volumes of past spankings and bespeaks
The Captain's firm conviction and prevails
O'er other arguments au contraire.

Each bare arse spanking swells a girl's big bum
And adds in gradual doses to the sum
Of measured inches when her worthy dame
Takes tape in hand and measures from behind
From hip to hip dimensions of the swell
Whose increase each and every eye can tell,
Whose doubtless augmentation all will find.

Of arse flesh of such loveliness mere words fail.
To picture it the Captain is unable
Who can invent the telling of the tale,
The story all suspicious call a fable.
The Captains' stare will prove its latent truth:
The panties fall below in very soothe.

The Captain roars with ever mounting ardor:
"Oh, Heaven bless you, darling! Drop them down!"
His mouth by turns becomes a grin or frown.
He rants and raves and dribbles at the mouth:
"Oh, drop the spanker straight down to half mast!
Oh, get 'er ready for the coming blast!

"Let every man prepare for wonders now!
The aft is upward. Let the fore be low!
Leave off the fore deck. See the poop be shown.
Her arse be bared anon, her saucy rump in tow!
Drop sail, my darling! Let her fat arse be seen
By all ship's crew from topmast to latrine!"

Her dame the panties' waistband deftly lifts
And draws them down while up her knee she shifts.

The huge smooth rump cheeks fairly pop
When once she grabs the waistband from the top
And hauls them inch by inch
Down to the whimpering lass' knees
In spite of piteous howls and bawling pleas.

The Captain's eyes widen with wonder.
He rubs them and bellows like thunder:
"Oh, l-l-look at the arse on her! Look at her bum!
It's fat and round and deep cleft and the sum
Of all the beauties in the world here below.
God bless you, darling! God bless you, my dear!
For showing us loveliness never seen here.
You should be blessed ever such marvels to show!"

Now lie the moons all naked to her view,
Her arse is arched up at convenient angle,
Her skirts are raised, her bloomers in a tangle,
Her panties at half mast as on a frigate
Waves the sail when some great captain passes.
Her dame caresses, fondles her plump buttocks
All stripped from tail to thigh with greatest care.
The Captain now decides to speak her fair
While kissing her neck and fondling her hair:

"How feels it, darling, now your arse is bare?
Are you embarrassed that your father's here?
How does your rumpness like your dame's lewd fondling?
How do your arse cheeks bear her fond attentions?
Do you for once expect I'll plead prevention
Of all her tender care on your behalf?

Or later when she reaches for her brush
Preparatory to instilling such a blush
As never graced a spanked girl's nether spheres
Once she raises her hairbrush and redoubles your tears?
I'd sooner be a block of ice in hell
Than deny you one swat of your dame's fearsome brush.
For you're sorely amiss if you think I won't tell
Her you need a good spanking done timely and well.

For the past is now behind
And her rearward parts are too
When her dame picks up her hairbrush
And, with practice tried and true,
With gentle taps her palm caresses
While patting her cheeks and fondling her tresses.

In mocking soothing words she softly warns,
"My darling, it pains me to tell you again
I'm not one who often scorns
Her duty towards a naughty lass,
Lets no fault go unpunished, no flirtation pass.

"Now look at daddy there whose constant care
Is your salvation tho' the cost is much.
His sore regrets are that I must now take such
Measures as I deem the best tho' I declare
The task is pleasant and the outcome clear.
Sadly it means the baring of your rear.

For the time for heat is now at hand
And the firing range is clear.
Her roaring is incessant and her shrieks are shrill and drear.
Her cruel dame now raises high the hairbrush in her hand
Her eyes are flashing fire but her wicked grin is bland.
She lets if fall with perfect aim
Upon the girls bare butt
Her eyes are overflown with tears
But her nether eye close shut.

The brush descends with stinging force
Upon the victim's poop.
The Captain's plainly jacking off
In an imaginary sloop.
A crimson print at once appears dead center on her arse
Her roarings sound through all the house
But sympathy is sparse.

The Captain bellows with delight:
"Oh, may God bless you, dear!
A hit direct you've sent with force
Upon her chubby rear!
Why roar you now, dear Susan mine,
Why do you bawl so shrill?
Do you begrudge your dame's fine aim
Or her unequalled skill?

"Why blubber you so shrill and hoarse
From one initial swat?
There's plenty more in store for you
When once her breath she's caught.
The target's clear of any shield,
Your saucy arse is bare.

Though I for one will ne'er begrudge
A well spanked girl her blare.
So roar apace and make it loud
No one can hear you roar
Your dame's the expert gunner now
And you have naught but heat in store.

The wretched girl now rubs apace
Her decorated hinder.
Her dame is strict. She fast forbids,
The Captain is much kinder.
But not from pity makes he now
His order from the chair:
He always loves to watch her rub
Her burning arse cheeks there:

"Oh, let her rub her burning stern.
Your cannon's found its mark.
I love too see with such fierce shame she
Tries to soothe the smart.
Oh, rub apace, my darling girl,
You're only raising higher
Your old papa's fast waning joys
When your response is shier."

In course of time the rubbings done,
Her dame to duty's keen.
Her daddy's seen enough for now
And lets her change the scene.
He gives the word in naval talk
And orders sharp and dire,
Now, ready and aim, my dearest wife,
But wait to hear the "fire."

Meantime he taunts the roaring child
And relishes the rubbing.
His face is red, his eyes are wild,
He dearly loves the drubbing:

"Rub well each lovely nether cheek,
So sorely burned by mother.
The little ease you thereby seek
Is had by nothing other.
But rest assured, my lovely lass
That once you're finished there
She'll burn again your lovely ass
As you are well aware."

He rises once again to go to Susan's right hand side.
His grin is broad, his speech is soft
And his comportment snide.
He brushes tears from off her cheeks
And fondles her dark hair
He kisses oft her neck and speaks,

"Now no more rubbing, dear.
Your mother's hot to place the next
On your most lovely bum.
Now let me go back to my ship
And watch the hell fire come."

Not soon, but now she raises high
The well anointed brush.
Her grin is mean, her timing sly
And her complexion blush.
But not so red as marks she sends
In swishing sound and sting,
In crimson circles 'thwart the arse
Her well-placed firings bring.

Again the Captain cranes his neck
From his accustomed chair,
He speaks his will and in muted tones
And constant is his stare
Dead center on the poor girl's bum
Or sometimes on her face.
His pocket holds a sweaty hand
As he directs the pace:

"Now let her have another, dear,
Not high or low but center."

And the brush it does its stinging chore
With swish and loud report.
And the girl is roaring gutturally
When the missile reaches port.
And the dame is with her pleas unfazed
And sends out blasts as hot
And the hairbrush never loses aim
And always hits the spot.

"Now show her, dear, the brush's back
That stinging hell fire sent her.

"Now let her feel the fiery crack
Your well-aimed pistol lent her.

"Now raise your arm and bare your sleeve
And slow resume the firing
And prove you mean to burn her arse
With never sign of tiring.

"Oh, excellent, my dear, dear wife!
Your aim was never better.
You never spare her one hot crack
And never back talk let her.

"Now rest awhile, my dear, your arm
And let her rub apace
I like to see her tears above
But love her lower face."