Traditions are Sacred, or a Poem about Spanking
Добавлено: Вт апр 29, 2025 5:11 pm
Traditions are Sacred, or a Poem about Spanking
Gennady Dergachev (Это не Алекс Новиков!)
Версия на русском: https://stihi.ru/2015/07/31/2534
A deer with a horse, a famous example,
You just can't harness them together.
Instead, an outsider and a local
He prefers nags on the trip.
If it's too tight in the framework,
The age of freedom is not to be seen,
And it's bland to eat without salt. …
So what is it about again?
Is it really about the hole,
Which steam will come out of?
Everything is impossible, but you can be passionate
Become the king of the family?! It's a nightmare!
The Japanese have a way to defuse,
To relieve some stress,
You can "boss" without looking back
To strike with or without malice.
The "boss" is made of rubber, of course,
A doll is a doll, not alive.
We're used to paintings.,
Which causes crying and howling.
The "Tsar" came home from work drunk,
It's much worse if you're angry,
And the "queen" is not funny
Looking for a place and peace.
There may be children at hand,
Not dolls, and then …
It's always like this in the world:
There is both happiness and trouble.
A step back can be important
For a run-up, but forward.
It used to be … Who is brave?
Let's see: who lives and how!
Another scarlet trail
The rod was left… Here's more…
The half-drunk father whips
And he doesn't say the word "everything."
What's the hurry?! That's why it's Saturday,
There are probably no other cases.
Spanking is not a job,
And fun is just a motive.
The children even got used to it,
They know pain and shame.
There is an order in this cycle.
How else? – this is everyday life.
The rod is on the rise again,
A whistle with a hiss, followed by a scream.
And as if half asleep
An ancient face looks down from a shelf.
"Would you stop?" – It's kind of timid.
Looking, the mother asked aloud, "
After all, the whole ass is already scarred!
Do you hear that, or are you deaf?"
- No, it's probably not enough yet,
I'll add it, and it's good!
And the vine fell again,"
the boy wheezed.
– It will be, well!
Wipe the bench, Mother, for now!
He won't get off himself, I'll take it down …
Come on, pour some kvass!
Well, you prepare the beauty!
My daughter is trembling all over with excitement,
She took a step and stands there.
- Did you get up like this before Sunday? –
The mother squints and says:
- Not for the first time, lie down boldly! –
And she pushed her daughter, hurrying, -
Take off your shirt soon!
What are you crawling for, aren't you a louse?!
The girl lay down somehow;
Cream-colored chubby ass,
And the tan is almost like wheat,
Only in places, not in a row.
- Well, shall we begin?! – the father is pleased
He slapped his daughter a little with his hand.
And she responded involuntarily,
She just sighed and said, "Oh!"
"What kind of sighs is that,
Or did you forget how he taught?!
Not enough, apparently, on the peas
You were already exhausted!
I took the first rod out of the tub
And he pulled it through his fist,
The minutes count was savory,
But who, of course, how.
- Here you go!.. Not enough salt? –
He smacks my father with a laugh, -
And then we'll add pain!
Or is it tastier with a strap?
- Oh, don't! It hurts! It hurts!-
A daughter in stripes and in tears.
- Don't act at ease!
That's your fear.
- Hey, wife, give me a new twig!
The end has become all shaggy,"
the father's tone is not so harsh,
He was as tired as a reaper in the field.
- Oh, now, darling, I'll take it out.
You wouldn't have done it anyway!
Yes, paint her back for now.,
To cool the butt a little!
- The one that's thinner,
It's just right for the back.,
Well, and this one, which is the fattest,
Put it back on the reserve.
With a whoosh, the tip bit into my back,
A squeal of pain, a red trail:
And the artist painted it like that
He has been painting with a brush for many years.
Mother and father are very pleased –
This spanking brings them together;
And they were free to work on them .,
But it's all gone, it doesn't hurt.
- Okay, it will be! We are not animals.
My back hurts the most,
but my thighs are not ripe.,
We need to warm them up! and stronger!
- Mom, Dad, I'm sorry.,
I can't stand it anymore!
Mitya was given fewer rods,
And we took the net together!
- And you're older, what's the score?!
Lie down quietly and don't eat!
We'll teach you, you clodhoppers -
you'll remember for a long time, maybe!
"Come on, Mother, tie it together.",
In the fart, lozinok, to the bitches!
She'll be in a tender place.
There's still blood on the bruises.
Smack – and immediately the drops ripen,
Like cranberries in soft moss.
- It burns better, daughter, doesn't it?!
My ass is on fire.
The brine stings the skin.,
A blow is followed by another blow.
A century has passed, it seems,
Or less – who counted?!
He's breathing fast, and his sweat is sticky.,
The new hundred has a swollen scar,
My daughter's voice became hoarse,
But the father is still whipping.
Business time is an hour of fun,
And it's time to forgive.
There are almost always flaws
And the instinct to hit, then to tear.
It's been like this for centuries,
They are still being beaten ferociously;
Not one grave, alas.,
There is not a story about everyone.
Without hesitation, wildness climbs in,
There is no question of a slap here,
Someone wants to go haywire
To flog everyone and even for the future.
Staples come to their aid.,
But not shackles yet.,
Even if they are ridiculous,
They will be holy for the time being.
You must have been reading for a long time!
Did it hurt or not?
And so they didn't stop whipping?
Yes and no – the answer is from you!
29.07.15
Gennady Dergachev (Это не Алекс Новиков!)
Версия на русском: https://stihi.ru/2015/07/31/2534
A deer with a horse, a famous example,
You just can't harness them together.
Instead, an outsider and a local
He prefers nags on the trip.
If it's too tight in the framework,
The age of freedom is not to be seen,
And it's bland to eat without salt. …
So what is it about again?
Is it really about the hole,
Which steam will come out of?
Everything is impossible, but you can be passionate
Become the king of the family?! It's a nightmare!
The Japanese have a way to defuse,
To relieve some stress,
You can "boss" without looking back
To strike with or without malice.
The "boss" is made of rubber, of course,
A doll is a doll, not alive.
We're used to paintings.,
Which causes crying and howling.
The "Tsar" came home from work drunk,
It's much worse if you're angry,
And the "queen" is not funny
Looking for a place and peace.
There may be children at hand,
Not dolls, and then …
It's always like this in the world:
There is both happiness and trouble.
A step back can be important
For a run-up, but forward.
It used to be … Who is brave?
Let's see: who lives and how!
Another scarlet trail
The rod was left… Here's more…
The half-drunk father whips
And he doesn't say the word "everything."
What's the hurry?! That's why it's Saturday,
There are probably no other cases.
Spanking is not a job,
And fun is just a motive.
The children even got used to it,
They know pain and shame.
There is an order in this cycle.
How else? – this is everyday life.
The rod is on the rise again,
A whistle with a hiss, followed by a scream.
And as if half asleep
An ancient face looks down from a shelf.
"Would you stop?" – It's kind of timid.
Looking, the mother asked aloud, "
After all, the whole ass is already scarred!
Do you hear that, or are you deaf?"
- No, it's probably not enough yet,
I'll add it, and it's good!
And the vine fell again,"
the boy wheezed.
– It will be, well!
Wipe the bench, Mother, for now!
He won't get off himself, I'll take it down …
Come on, pour some kvass!
Well, you prepare the beauty!
My daughter is trembling all over with excitement,
She took a step and stands there.
- Did you get up like this before Sunday? –
The mother squints and says:
- Not for the first time, lie down boldly! –
And she pushed her daughter, hurrying, -
Take off your shirt soon!
What are you crawling for, aren't you a louse?!
The girl lay down somehow;
Cream-colored chubby ass,
And the tan is almost like wheat,
Only in places, not in a row.
- Well, shall we begin?! – the father is pleased
He slapped his daughter a little with his hand.
And she responded involuntarily,
She just sighed and said, "Oh!"
"What kind of sighs is that,
Or did you forget how he taught?!
Not enough, apparently, on the peas
You were already exhausted!
I took the first rod out of the tub
And he pulled it through his fist,
The minutes count was savory,
But who, of course, how.
- Here you go!.. Not enough salt? –
He smacks my father with a laugh, -
And then we'll add pain!
Or is it tastier with a strap?
- Oh, don't! It hurts! It hurts!-
A daughter in stripes and in tears.
- Don't act at ease!
That's your fear.
- Hey, wife, give me a new twig!
The end has become all shaggy,"
the father's tone is not so harsh,
He was as tired as a reaper in the field.
- Oh, now, darling, I'll take it out.
You wouldn't have done it anyway!
Yes, paint her back for now.,
To cool the butt a little!
- The one that's thinner,
It's just right for the back.,
Well, and this one, which is the fattest,
Put it back on the reserve.
With a whoosh, the tip bit into my back,
A squeal of pain, a red trail:
And the artist painted it like that
He has been painting with a brush for many years.
Mother and father are very pleased –
This spanking brings them together;
And they were free to work on them .,
But it's all gone, it doesn't hurt.
- Okay, it will be! We are not animals.
My back hurts the most,
but my thighs are not ripe.,
We need to warm them up! and stronger!
- Mom, Dad, I'm sorry.,
I can't stand it anymore!
Mitya was given fewer rods,
And we took the net together!
- And you're older, what's the score?!
Lie down quietly and don't eat!
We'll teach you, you clodhoppers -
you'll remember for a long time, maybe!
"Come on, Mother, tie it together.",
In the fart, lozinok, to the bitches!
She'll be in a tender place.
There's still blood on the bruises.
Smack – and immediately the drops ripen,
Like cranberries in soft moss.
- It burns better, daughter, doesn't it?!
My ass is on fire.
The brine stings the skin.,
A blow is followed by another blow.
A century has passed, it seems,
Or less – who counted?!
He's breathing fast, and his sweat is sticky.,
The new hundred has a swollen scar,
My daughter's voice became hoarse,
But the father is still whipping.
Business time is an hour of fun,
And it's time to forgive.
There are almost always flaws
And the instinct to hit, then to tear.
It's been like this for centuries,
They are still being beaten ferociously;
Not one grave, alas.,
There is not a story about everyone.
Without hesitation, wildness climbs in,
There is no question of a slap here,
Someone wants to go haywire
To flog everyone and even for the future.
Staples come to their aid.,
But not shackles yet.,
Even if they are ridiculous,
They will be holy for the time being.
You must have been reading for a long time!
Did it hurt or not?
And so they didn't stop whipping?
Yes and no – the answer is from you!
29.07.15