Testimonial by Ian

The First Time

 

Mid way through our session, Miss Kendal takes me to the punishment bench. It has been in the corner of the room the whole time, but she has never looked at it, never mentioned it. Now she instructs me to stand, naked and vulnerable, in front of it. We contemplate it together in silence. I know what is coming. This is exactly what I have asked her for. I am shaking.

 

She tells me to kneel and lie forward. There are five points of restraint and she takes her time carefully applying each of them, describing what she is doing. She is calm, completely in control, and I feel no panic. But as each strap is fastened and my freedom is further restricted, my sense of anticipation, resignation, fear mount to almost unbearable levels. I surreptitiously test the strength of the straps and my range of movement – a pointless activity which she will have noticed. Miss Kendal notices everything.

 

As she fastens the final strap across my waist, holding my torso, I imagine looking down on the scene and I think of the indignity of this position. I lie face down, quite unable to move, my bottom presented at the perfect height and angle to be caned. In truth, though, any dignity I might have felt was stripped away earlier in the session when Miss Kendal instructed me to remove my clothing item by item and then made me stand in front of her while she appraised me, coldly and at length, in silence. With granite expression, she reminded me what I had asked for. As I shrank in embarrassment, she required me to look at her and confirm it. Then she described in clinical terms exactly what she was going to do to me. Finally, she put me across her knee and slowly, carefully, and very thoroughly spanked me with her hand as I tried not to squirm. After this treatment, I am already humiliated beyond any sense of shame.

 

There is another long, long silence. Miss Kendal is somewhere behind me. I am unable to see her. I don’t dare to try to look round. Time passes. I think back to the awkward email I wrote to her many weeks ago when I committed to print thoughts that I had never before put into words. Reading and rereading her website then writing the email, getting every word right, had taken perhaps a month. Summoning up the courage to press “send” had taken another week. And then followed the long, long wait that has led, at last, to this moment. Over the weeks, there have been so many opportunities to withdraw, to step back, all of which I was temped to take. As recently as an hour ago I could have driven straight past her house and away. But I did not, and now, finally, it is too late. I have lost all choice and all control. This is exactly what I asked for, but I am in turmoil. I want what is to come, yet I dread it. I am excited, yet I am terrified.  I am on the point of a needle.

 

The rattle of a cane being withdrawn from the basket by the door brings me back to the present. How long has is been? A few seconds. That is how the waiting is – every second feels like an hour. A test swish has me flinching – I thought it was for me. This draws a chuckle from Miss Kendal. Then I feel the cold cane gently stroking and tapping my bottom, and I know I am just moments away…

 

When it starts, it still takes me by surprise. As the cane comes down, there is a moment of pure, overwhelming pain that leaves me gasping and writhing, but the searing agony fades after a few moments to a fiery burning and I manage to regain some semblance of self control. I try to breathe slowly and deeply as Miss Kendal has shown me, and after the first two strokes, I gain a little confidence. Yes, I can bear this.

 

How stupid.

 

Miss Kendal is observing, and her third is very, very much harder. I gasp again and this time I cry out. My back arches. I pull ineffectually against the restraints before collapsing onto the bench to sob briefly. Now, I want to be anywhere, anywhere, but here. And I realise this is the moment that I have fantasised about for so long: of suffering pain more intense than I thought I could bear and being totally unable to stop it; of begging for release; and of being ignored as the punishment runs its course, until Miss Kendal alone deems it to be complete.

 

Then something extraordinary happens.

 

I do not plead for it to stop as I thought I would. Instead, I hear a voice whispering the words, “Thank you, Miss.” The voice is mine. I say it again, this time louder. I play with the words, as I begin to realise that I have never offered thanks for anything more sincerely in my life. At that moment, a door swings open within my soul revealing a part of me that I had simply not known was there. It is as if I have lived in the same house all my life, until one day someone takes me round a corner and shows me a series of rooms that I had somehow never noticed. In confusion and exhilaration, I realise that I am, literally, not quite the person that all my life I have thought I am.

 

I feel a soft hand on my shoulder and the back of my neck.  It is a gesture of tenderness that summons me out of the world of pain that I am in. I open my eyes and find Miss Kendal’s head close to mine. She looks at me and she smiles. I think I manage a half smile back. It is a moment of intense, raw intimacy as I realise that she understands – that she understood all along – what I am only now dimly beginning to appreciate.  But after a little while, quite deliberately, she allows the smile to fade, the ice to return to her eyes, the steel and flint to her expression. My exhilaration drains away and my despair mounts again as she resumes her stance behind me.

 

I resolve to thank her for each and every stroke that is to follow, my gratitude sincere and genuine. But as the punishment continues and the pain intensifies, my breath shortens to sobs and I don’t manage it. Now, I really do need it to stop, and it doesn’t. There is to be no mercy. And when she is finished with the cane, the punishment starts afresh with a leather strap, just as I had asked. Why did I ask for that?

 

I have learned already that the closer together the strokes come, the greater the pain. As the session reaches its climax, Miss Kendal warns me not to move as the last three strokes of the strap will come in quick succession. This takes me to a new crescendo of agony and I think I cry out again. Then it is finished. I am overwhelmed with a sense of relief that it is over, but this is followed immediately by regret and a deep yearning for more. I am hopelessly, utterly confused, my emotions turned on their head. I know only one thing for certain: that I am deeply, overwhelmingly grateful to the extraordinary lady who has taken me on this journey of exploration to places within me that I did not know existed.

 

That was a month ago, and the door that opened that day is already closing again.

 

I will see Miss Kendal again when I can. I will ask her, humbly, to be much more severe with me next time, because I know, deep down, that my first experience was a mild one. I also know that I will instantly regret this request, yet I must make it to experience once again that addictive mix of fear and anticipation, of terror and exhilaration, of pain and pleasure.

 

So. Are you ready to contact Miss Kendal? If you are, let me give you some advice. Read her website carefully and follow her instructions to the letter. Be very polite in all your dealings with her.  Treat her with very great courtesy.

 

Do not do this out of fear. There is indeed much to be afraid of. She will terrorise you. She will strip you of your dignity. She will deprive you of your freedom and, when you are defenceless, she will subject you, ruthlessly and with relish, to as much pain as she thinks you can handle – and this will be more than, by then, you want. But fear is not the reason.

 

Do it rather out of respect. Because she will do all this with kindness. She will show you a tenderness,  a compassion, an insight and an understanding of your needs, and ultimately a respect for you that surpasses anything that you can offer her in return.

 

Thank you, Miss.

 

Testimonial by Mark

I have recently had the privilege of a third meeting with Miss Kendal and it was an experience as intense and fulfilling as those that have gone before. There were all the elements that I have come to expect: the outstanding role-play; the ‘look’; the monumentally hard hand spanking and the hairbrush. This time the session was enhanced for the first time by a lengthy dose of the cane. It was, of course, delivered with the uncompromising skill that is her trademark.

I will not rehearse the details of the session. Suffice it to say that the beatings, interspersed by nerve-wracking silences and verbal dressings down, were painfully challenging. On this occasion, however, something else happened that I am still processing.

Having engaged in disciplinary ‘play’ for many years, I thought I knew exactly what I needed: to regress to a schoolboy alter ego and be thrashed hard enough to be satisfied until the urge to repeat the experience returned. I have never thought of myself as ‘submissive’ and really didn’t understand what people meant by it. Yes, I wanted to be beaten from time to time and to cede control while it was happening but that was all. I would then return to the outwardly self-confident me with a successful career and fulfilling social and family life.

Miss Kendal, however, is uncannily insightful. It is almost as though those penetrating eyes can reach the depths of one’s being – in my case to reveal someone who is often uncertain, fearful and guilt-ridden, with a deep-seated need for the approval of others. And as I felt her ‘reading’ me so I came to make some unexpected discoveries about myself – or perhaps to recognise, admit and articulate them. A light had come on and I could now see in a new light aspects of myself that I had never really embraced. Perhaps, after all, there is something of the submissive about me.

So thank you Miss Kendal for your incredible insight and warmth. I look forward to seeing you again, both for the “damn good walloping” you have promised and to continue my new journey of self-discovery.

Testimonial by Sarah

For quite a while now I have been trying to build the courage up to take my very first judicial caning.

In fact this was my second time at arranging such session.The first time I pulled out at the last minute.
I had no idea what sort of reception I would receive as I had not been in this situation before.
Miss Kendal shown me to the punishment room.no pre session chat this time.no smiles in fact I had never had such a reception.But this was all part of the scenario..
Miss instructed me to undress to my comfort zone and to assume the position,On her return I was informed why I was to receive the punishment .
Which would consist of X amount of strokes that the punishment will be only completed when final stroke was administered.
I have to say at this point I was nervous but felt 100% safe throughout.i would not have arranged this with anyone else I trust miss Kendal  she has vast experience I knew she would monitor my reactions at all times .
We both had a awsesome time.im so happy not just for myself but for miss as well.for agreeing to carry out something that I have only ever dreamed about.
Thankyou Ma’am from the bottom of my heart…

Testimonial by MarQe

After visiting Miss Kendal, whom I address as Ma’am, for about a year I foolishly decided to end our sessions because I thought I could dictate how my punishments were administered. It did not take me very long to realise what a stupid error I had made!  I no longer had a true disciplinarian to visit, one who made me fear the punishment to come simply by the manner that She greets me at Her door. The uncompromising order to go upstairs, strip and be waiting in the corner, hands on head causes me to quickly realise there is no turning back!

 

So, I wrote an email apologising for my stupid mistake and begged to be taken back so that my errors might be properly corrected.  I was genuinely grateful when Ma’am said She would see me again on the understanding my slate be wiped clean with some serious punishment.  I accepted without a second thought.  A sound hair brushing from cold had me whimpering almost from the off and though I have never shed tears from a spanking I fear that Ma’am & Her hairbrush might hold the key !! By the time the hairbrush came to a conclusion I was kicking and crossing my legs like a naughty little boy. I was now to be caned with no counting just a long series of strokes completed to the satisfaction of Ma’am. A paddling from a thick hide paddle, buffalo was it? My mind was elsewhere by now and I am not sure what it was made from? The final stage was punctuated by time-out, hands on head standing in front of the vaulting horse whilst I waited for another good hairbrush spanking leg locked over Ma’am’s knee.

 

Ma’am gave me an exquisite hand spanking warm down, which I adored but hardly deserved.  I cannot wait to return, my slate is cleaner but not clean yet and my cold bottom has many more dates with Miss Kendal’s hairbrush !!

Testimonial by Ernest

While there are, of course, many sources for and types of scenario, one which is I think enormously significant to us and will resonate in a very special way is that which connects up almost magically with something in our own past. And I want to put down just how good Miss Kendal is at helping us to do this.

Recently, she had a visit from a schoolboy whose report was so bad as to be ludicrous. At every subject he was bottom of the class and had been idling away his time. While it was inspired by a single disappointing one I really did get one term in the 1960s, it was far worse than I would ever have dared to earn in real life. I was sent to await her in the gym – she had noticed that PE was not dealt with in the report and felt this needed some attention. And in the course of the discussion of my conduct I admitted that although I had made little effort on the sports field, there was one sport I liked.

From an almost casual remark I made which Miss Kendal seized upon, we built up the most amazing scenario. I became the boy whose talent for a single sport was wasted because of a reluctance to practise, and who certainly did not think it necessary to give attention to academic work. In the real world I had had no talent for this sport anyway, just a deep enthusiasm, and a voluminous knowledge of the statistics – if enthusiasm had been enough I would have played for England, never mind the school. But today, after fifty years, my relationship with it was transformed. And Miss Kendal achieved this transformation despite herself having minimal knowledge of the game – just through a sensitivity to what would excite her playmate!

I’m sure others who have met her will have had similar experiences, but if anyone is doubtful whether to contact Miss Kendal I really cannot recommend her highly enough!

 

Testimonial by SB

It’s not the room its the person.

 

On Tuesday i had an appointment with Miss Kendal at her new premises, and it is fair to say that i was far more nervous than i have been since i first met her many months ago.

This was not because of what i was about to be subjected to, i had a good idea about what that would be, and knew it would be painful and leave me wearing evidence of my visit for some days ahead, but that is exactly why i visit Miss Kendal. It was all about the ‘Room’! The room was Miss Kendal’s play space at her former premises. The room was a plainly decorated sparsely furnished, 12’x12’ room with a plain carpet, two doors, and a window , fairly innocuous as rooms go, but it was the room where i discovered myself, and where on a regular basis i had been transported to the most incredible place in the world, in an earlier testimonial I referred to it as my Narnia!

I had known for some months of Miss Kendal’s impending move and i had battled with the fear that without the room I wouldn’t achieve subspace and that special place would be lost, the dynamics changed, and my new found life lost or at least altered in some detrimental way. Our last session in the old play space had been one of the most intense and incredible we had experienced, and i had convinced myself the room didn’t matter, but when i awoke Tuesday morning the doubt was there again, it had returned to haunt me, my newly found life was hanging over a precipice!

I sent my confirmation text first thing as i always do, and received the polite and succinct response as usual. Unusually for me the session was not until early evening, i normally like to session in the morning, so i had all day to wait. I went about my business the best i could but always in my mind was my fear that the new space would not be quite right. Eventually it was time for me to prepare and set off, i showered and set off West, the new post code in my sat nav, it was one of the longest journeys of my life, even though it was actually 10 minutes quicker than my previous journey. I drove down the street and looked over the new address, it seemed ok, nothing really to strike fear into my soul, but still it was there, my stomach was churning, it hadn’t done that at a visit to Miss Kendal’s for a long time. At exactly the prescribed time i walked up to the front door and rang the bell, i felt like a little school boy on his first visit to the head teacher, i felt small and vulnerable, uncertain and scared! The door opened and Miss Kendal greeted me with a pleasant smile and showed me straight upstairs, we chatted briefly but i suspect Miss Kendal realised i was not as comfortable as i had become and we agreed she would leave and let me prepare by disrobing and taking a few minutes to get the feeling of the new surroundings. Miss Kendal seems to have this knack of reading me like a book and clearly knew i was unusually nervous!

I stood in the centre of the room, naked, vulnerable, with my hands on my head. I closed my eyes, my stomach churned again, i was scared, but only from a fear that i had lost something special. I opened my eyes and took in the room, it was a plainly decorated sparsely furnished, 12’x12’ room with a plain carpet, two doors, and a window , fairly innocuous as rooms go! Seems familiar, I actually felt a smile trying to rise, i heard movement outside, the door opened and Miss Kendal entered, an air of strength and power, i fought back my smile, i was becoming less scared and ever more comfortable, even though i knew i was about to be subjected to something extremely painful and uncomfortable, i could sense things hadn’t changed and it was going to be good!

Miss Kendal paced around the room, talking slowly, softly and clearly, telling me what she was going to do to me, and how i was going to behave, and that if i was a good boy and took my beating well my reward would be 12 strokes from her senior cane. I was almost in heaven and Miss Kendal hadn’t even raised a finger to me!

The session proved yet again to be one of the most incredible yet, i am always constantly amazed that Miss Kendal is able to raise the bar each time, and introduce my to new implements and new techniques, always adding variety and excitement to the session. How many different ways can there be to hit someone? An infinite number it seems! The session started with a hand spanking over Miss Kendal’s knee, where i was also introduced to her new silicone spatula, i was then ordered over the back of the chair for more of the same, i was already starting to feel pushed, and yet knew there was much more to come. I was then sent to the corner for a period of reflection, then it was over the horse for the slipper and leather paddle. This time i was given one hard stroke and then had to count slowly to ten after which i would be subjected to a full force flurry of indeterminate strokes, only for the same thing to be repeated again and again. My first few one to tens were slow and deliberately so as i prepared myself for the upcoming volley, but i was soon well on my way to subspace and my counting quickened as i craved the next painful beating, i needed release and with each beating i was nearer and nearer. The need to count stopped and Miss Kendal just starting beating me with all of her force, it was simply amazing i was now completely oblivious to my surroundings and i was in euphoria, it was truly brilliant, every stroke of the paddle was relished and enjoyed, i wanted more, and was pleading for it to continue. Miss Kendal happily obliged.

Eventually it stopped, i came back to the ‘Room’ and new room but non the less the ‘Room’, i had obviously been a good boy as Miss Kendal told me i had earned my reward of 12 strokes of her Senior cane, in fact i must have been a very good boy as Miss Kendal rewarded me with 24 strokes! I was back in subspace, my Narnia, almost immediately!

My fears had all been unfounded i can honestly say “its not the room its the person” and for me that person is without doubt Miss Kendal!

I cannot say it enough but a massive Thank You Miss Kendal for helping me find myself and the real me!