By way of background, I am a man in his 60s who has had a fascination with the cane since my bottom was first introduced to it by my grammar school headmaster.  Over the years, I have re-lived that early experience many times at the hands of disciplinarians – both professional and amateur – and have met a few very special people.  In the process I have developed a pretty thick hide so far as canings are concerned.  I have also played with leather implements but have had limited experience with wood.  Indeed the thought of a really long, hard hairbrush spanking has always filled me with dread.

 

Recently, however, I began to feel the need to broaden my experience and so it was that I found myself contacting Miss Kendal seeking a domestic-themed session.  After an exchange of emails, in which we agreed an appropriate scenario, I found myself reporting to my strict aunt to receive my comeuppance.

 

To say that I was nervous would be an understatement.  There were the usual pre-session anxieties, augmented by the unknown quantity of a new disciplinarian and real concern I wouldn’t be able to take the significant hairbrushing I expected the session to feature.  Miss Kendal, however, greeted me with her lovely smile, sat me down with a cup of tea and waited while I talked myself into being ready to face the music.

 

I will not share all the details of our session, not least because words could not do it justice.  Suffice it to say I did get the long, hard, over the knee hairbrush spanking and quite a challenge it was.  Having said that, I realise in retrospect that I could have taken it longer and harder – an admission I may have cause to regret.  There were other implements too but they played only bit parts in a disciplinary symphony expertly orchestrated by Miss Kendal.

 

In role, she is simply outstanding.  I instantly became the frightened, remorseful, naughty nephew.  As I stood at her side, trembling and bared for punishment, she slowly wound up the tension, lecturing me over and over about my misdemeanours.  At one point, seated on her spanking chair, hairbrushes at the ready, she fixed me with her gaze and said, “I know you just want this to be over and for me to get on with your punishment but I’m not going to make it that easy for you.”  My head was screaming, “Dear God, yes.  Please just beat me.”  But the reproaches and reprimands just went on.  By the time I was finally ordered over her lap I was ready to admit to anything.

 

The session as a whole followed this pattern.  Episodes of thrashing punctuated by corner time, lectures, tension-building silences and, for me, genuine fear of what might come next.  It was quite simply incredible.  It was not, by any means, the most severe beating I’ve ever taken and it was my first ever that did not feature the cane but I can honestly say that I don’t think I’ve ever felt a stronger sense of having being genuinely punished.

 

Thank you Miss Kendal, you’ve touched something in me that I didn’t know was there.  I’m not even sure I know exactly what it is but I’m determined to find out.