I met Miss Kendal for the first time in London in July. For some time, I’ve had a keen curiosity to meet with her as she shares a very strong resemblance to a teacher I knew at my secondary school in 1977.
The Miss Kendal of 1977 had truthfully, but mistakenly identified me to the then headmaster as the culprit that severely vandalised a classroom. My father received a bill for the damage with a letter requesting consent to extensively cane me on the bare bottom at the forthcoming school assembly. Fortunately, my father knew it wasn’t in my character to commit vandalism and it was realised there was an identity mix up. For me, I had to be patient and receive my long desired CP from Miss Kendal as I’d asked of her this July in London!
On meeting Miss Kendal for the first time in London, I realised how closely she resembled my teacher of 1977. As well as the physical and temperamental resemblance, I felt a serenity and calm exuding from Miss Kendal that told me she could contain and support me with this long held endeavour.
At the premises with Miss Kendal, after a brief chat out of role play I was summoned to wait outside her study until she told me to enter. On entering, she looked directly into me with her piercing knowing eyes. Impertinently, I also looked right back into her eyes and held my gaze. She told me of the damage that had been done to the classroom and inquired if I knew anything about it. Naturally, I said no. Miss Kendal told me she had ways to ‘persuade’ me to divulge information. She told me to disrobe telling me to put myself across her lap. Unwisely, I undressed to my pants and she gave me a steely look saying ‘remove them’. By this time, I was enjoying the role and telling Miss Kendal she had made a mistake and she was punishing the wrong boy. Miss Kendal sure can deliver a hefty hand spanking that had me flinching! On finishing the spanking, she told me to stand in the corner facing the wall with my hands on my head to reflect on our next conversation. Miss Kendal left the room for a few minutes.
On her return, Miss Kendal told me to turn round and take my hands off my head. Again, she asked what I knew about the classroom damage. Again, I said I knew nothing. She looked at me in a disappointing way telling me to go to the school desk and bend over it. For a minute or so, she let me reflect on what was coming whilst she chose a paddle. She gave me 12 hard slow blows whilst I counted and thanked her for each one followed by a further swift 12 blows. Whilst still gripping the desk, Miss Kendal selected another paddle delivering a further even harder 12 slow blows and a flurry of another 12!! The slipper also followed in the same stinging order! Miss Kendal told me to stand up and turn round to face her reminding me not to rub my bottom. Again, she asked me what did I know. I said, ‘nothing, Miss’. I said too that, ‘you’ve got the wrong boy. I’m going to tell my dad and he’ll sue you and the school. I’ve got human rights’. Miss Kendal simply replied, ‘I’m going to thrash you’.
When I’m enjoying a session, I like to resist and antagonise. I knew in this moment that I’d met my nemesis in Miss Kendal. She told me curtly to follow her into the punishment room. By the door was a punishment bench, she allowed me to drink some water and gestured with her eyes for me to mount it. For me, this moment was the epoch of what I’d desired in 1977 when I saw the other boy receiving a hard caning on his bare bottom at the school assembly with 200 boys looking on. I willingly mounted the bench visualising that scene from 1977. Miss Kendal slowly and carefully bound my wrists, thighs, calves and my torso with the 5 restraint straps to the leather bench. It was sinking in how naked I felt especially with my bottom protruding and awaiting for Miss Kendal to do her worse (or best) to it. In front of me was a mirror so I could enjoy this delicious anticipation. Miss Kendal put a cane in front of me on the floor telling me I was going to get better acquainted with it. She went back to her study for a few minutes and returned to collect the cane. She said it was a junior dragon cane reminding me ‘I’m going to thrash you and it’s only going to get worse for you’. She walked behind me. I heard the swish of the cane cutting the air. There was a tap, tap on my bottom followed by 12 slow but hard blows whereby I counted and thanked Miss Kendal together with a further 12 speedy wincing blows that had me straining against the straps! Miss Kendal asked again what did I know about the classroom damage. I admitted to damaging the classroom. I’d said as I’d now admitted to the damage I asked if I could be released from the punishment. I said I must be taking after my dad as he works for a demolition company. Oh dear. What a mistake. Now I’d really antagonised Miss Kendal. She firmly told me that ‘lying is not acceptable’ and I’m to be thrashed for the vandalism and lying too. She allowed me to drink some water, then placed a length of bound twigs on the floor in front of me. It was the birch!! Now I remember saying in my email role play I’d like to try it. She left the room for a few minutes allowing me to savour what was to come.
On her return, Miss Kendal collected the birch holding it in front of my face telling me that I thoroughly deserved this punishment. By now, my bottom was cooling from the last onslaught. She stepped behind me and tap tapped the birch against my anticipating bottom. I could see her swinging it in that mirror. By the time, Miss Kendal had finished there wasn’t a single patch on my bottom that hadn’t been thrashed! It was ecstasy and agony watching Miss Kendal swish that birch onto my bottom. I’d waited for over 40 years for this and I was loving it. By now, I’d gone beyond sub space and was in orbit. Tantalising, agonising and yet ecstatic. My bottom felt red hot, but somehow immune to the blows it was taking too.
Miss Kendal reminded me again of the seriousness of the vandalism, impertinence and lying. She told me that she wasn’t going to stop the punishment until she heard true remorse and atonement for my transgressions. I attempted a pathetic attempt saying I was sorry, but I’d also desired this extensive thrashing for over 40 years. I wasn’t in a real hurry to atone just yet. Miss Kendal laid on a further 24 slow and fast strokes each from the strap and the senior dragon cane. The last 5 strokes of the dragon cane brought me to a place where I felt it was time to be remorseful. Miss Kendal gave me some water asking me to speak. I said I was sorry for causing the damage, being cheeky and lying to her. I’d offered to pay for the damage with pocket money instalments! Miss Kendal said I was displaying a better attitude, but should I fail her again I’d be right back on that bench again!
As a final instalment of the punishment, Miss Kendal fetched the reformatory cane again placing it on the floor in front of me. It seemed as thick as a broom handle! By now, I was still in orbit and can’t remember if I took slow and fast blows from that cane. I’m sure I took another 24 blows. Each stroke felt like a combination of all the strokes I’d received in the session. Each stroke seemed to have me straining against the straps of the bench. I cried out in pain at times, but I’d truly atoned for my transgressions.
After the 24th stroke, Miss Kendal untied the straps and slowly and carefully tended and helped me to my feet and orientate myself back to 2018! My bottom felt like it was lined with corrugated horizontal lines and welts, but what a glorious tantalising reminder of what I desired in 1977 and finally received in 2018!
I also see a regular Domme, but Miss Kendal is sublime in her art, demeanour and her skills in comparison. Miss Kendal projects a serenity and peace that supported me through this cathartic time. I thoroughly enjoyed my time and have definitely atoned for my transgressions. I’ll happily lie across that bench when you’re ready to see me Miss Kendal!
I love spanking. I really do. It took me a long time to say it out loud. For many years I considered myself a freak: why couldn’t I be “normal”? What was wrong with me? I think many of us spankos went through this stage. The good thing is that it will eventually come to an end and you will accept yourself for who you are.
Since I succeeded in overcoming my personal shame issues, I got plenty of spankings, and trust me when I say that I loved every single one of them! Of course, some sessions are better than others, and only few could truly give me everlasting wonderful memories, manly thanks to the people I had the honor to play with.
Even if I only had two sessions with Miss Kendal, I can say that they’re on my list of absolute favorite ones.
How did it start? Well, people who already sessioned with Miss Kendal were telling me how amazing she was and how strict her sessions could be, that I had to book a session, that I had to meet her. I was becoming more and more curious!! When I won a free session in her Christmas competition, I felt like it was meant to happen. I have always loved to challenge any kind of authority, and I immeditely thought that I could have possibly found a great, if not the best “opponent”. I had to see, hear and feel deep inside what it was like to be in front of such Disciplinarian. I wanted to test the famous “look”. Personally, I’m not a remissive bottom: I have to talk back, I have to verbally challenge who’s in front of me. Why? Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe because I like to push buttons and see how people react, especially if they are Tops, or maybe because I can’t go down without arguing! I read or heard many stories of people giving up control and accept what it’s coming. I can’t do it. Or, at least, I thought I couldn’t, because there has always been a voice in my head that, every single time, yells: “Fight, fight, fight!”.
Miss Kendal was kind enough to accept this part of me but, at the same time, she wasn’t giving me any chance to be in control. Since the first moment our session started, it didn’t matter how much I talked back or challenged her in every way I could, she was the Disciplinarian, she was in charge and I had to accept it. Period.
She totally did take control!! I thought it couldn’t be possible, not with my Italian stubborness so deep-rooted in my mind, soul, skin and bones. And yet, it happened. Not because she left marks on every inch of my bottom, even if she totally did, with different implements and great skill, but also because she’s extremely intelligent and attentive to your needs and personality.
I don’t know how, but she very soon understood how impatient and stubborn I can be and she knew how to deal with me.
This is how: she made me wait. Such a simple action and yet so powerful. I was there, bent over, waiting for her to do something and she was simply standing behind me, in silence. I don’t want to wait, I don’t like to wait! Quoting a Queen song “I want it all, and I want it now!”.
“Why isn’t she doing something? Why doesn’t she talk? For how long do I have to be in this position? What if I move? What if I stand up? Should I? What the heck is going on?” All these questions and many more crossed my mind, I started to become more impatient, it made me fidgetig more and more at the point I was almost shacking.
She knew. Oh, of course she knew, so she kept me waiting. When I turned my head to see what she was waiting for, she simply stared back at me and her eyes basically said: “I know what you want and you’re not going to get it until I decide so”. Not a word, not a single stroke was delivered on my bottom for I sincerely don’t know how long, and she had won. Checkmate.
By the way, people were totally right about the “look”. When Miss Kendal stares at you in complete silence, it’s really something else! At the end, you just look down at your feet or look around, wondering if you can hide somewhere!! It’s impressive! It doesn’t just instill a good amount of awe: somehow, looking at those blue eyes, you feel safe and, most of all, understood. You will never see in her eyes a trace of judgement for your fantasies, or for the way you are, look or dress. She really “gets it” and you can see that she loves what she does as much as you do, possibly even more. When she looks at you, all your fears, the nervousness, the little part of you still ashamed of your kink, they simply disappear, all in once! There are not really words to express how it makes you feel. I think that the Italian poet Giacomo Leopardi, in one of his poems, found the perfect ones: “E il naufragar m’è dolce in questo mare” (and foundering is sweet in such a sea). Yeah, that’s how it feels like.
If you are wondering about her skills, I can honestly say that Miss Kendal is totally AMAZING! It doesn’t matter which implement she uses, her accuracy is outstanding: she knows what she’s doing, I promise you! When she’s in character, she’s simply extraordinary and this makes easier to live your fantasies and enjoy them to the fullest.
What else can I say, except for a huge and grateful thank you?
Thank you, Miss Kendal, for the fun, for the understanding and for my sore bottom! I’m so glad I had the chance to session with you. I just hope to be able to do it again in the future.
For the people who are now reading this and haven’t yet booked a session, what are you waiting for? Do it!! I guarantee you that you won’t regret it.
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.
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.