Time passes so quickly. Some time ago I shared my interest in spanking with the readers of these pages. Then, after a house move, a necessary change in the direction of my life, followed by this, that and the other, my last spanking was a good three years ago. A bit more, probably. Make that four. I knew the domme I visited was thinking about retiring and, having no reason to contact her, matters just dwindled away and in any case my life had become filled with other and considerably more urgent priorities.

My work life had already had to change. My original job had gone after the company I worked for was taken over. I did take a job with the new firm but it was only temporary. However, by this time my hobby (the other one, not spanking) was giving me a more than decent second income and while I was overall earning a bit less I had more free time. The biggest change in my life, however, was personal and the house move meant saying goodbye to the job and also made it difficult for me to travel. Before then, though my domme had also given up using premises, the last couple of times I saw her was at her house out in West London, not far from the river. Not that it made any difference, with everything else going on there was no time at all for indulgences.

Until the beginning of this year. A legal matter arose that necessitated a trip to London. I had to make a personal appearance, zoom was no good. I’d not been in London since my move, so in a way I was looking forward to it, although being away overnight needed careful organising. I was also a bit nervous for, while my side looked to have a strong case, I’d not been involved in anything like this before. I did make sure a certain phone number was in my diary. Yes, under 2nd emergency plumber.

So, arrangements were made, and I went. The sessions were timetabled and on paper were as originally organised, with a finish on the second day to allow for overnight analysis. Well, there was none. The case, as it was, had pretty well ended in the late afternoon of day 1. However, after the opposition had left we needed a wrap-up session. Afterwards, I was taken out for dinner by my agent, which was nice. I felt emotionally drained by the day’s events so retired quite quickly and I think I was asleep soon after 10.00 pm. Dinner out was nice though.

I wasn’t needed the next day, so on a complete whim, I waited in my room until 10.00 am or so and rang my old domme, thinking she would probably have changed her number, or maybe moved, or anything. She answered, and over a very nervous couple of minutes I introduced myself and hoped she would remember me. It didn’t actually take that long, it just seemed like it, but then she said straight away she couldn’t see me; she didn’t do that sort of thing anymore. However, after a little while longer she warmed and, while she made it clear her spanking days were over, she admitted it would be lovely to have a cup of tea together and a chat. I attacked my make-up bag and checked out, leaving my wheely-suitcase with reception, then hopped on a District line tube and soon was retracing those steps I trod when I was indulging myself in what I had called my left field activity.

She had aged a bit, but of course so had I. The smile was warm and genuine though. It was lovely to see her. Not a lot else had changed; the house was as I remembered it, including the furniture in the little dining room and a particular chair, the back of which had seem my tummy rest on it several times while a swishy cane was firmly applied to my bottom, making me gasp and cry out. Nothing stings like the cane and more than once I earned extra strokes by giving myself a necessary rub after receiving a hard one. The table was there too, it had seen my prostrate body lie across it as well.

She made us some tea and we sat in the front room. One item of furniture had gone. She had once had a set of Avery scales there, ‘man size’, which I’d enquired about once before. I knew they had been procured from a chemist’s shop but that was about all.

Conversation was a little difficult at first, but we warmed. She was retired, and had quite bad arthritis especially in her hands, although had kept going for a couple of years after I had moved away. She said that it was about then she decided to see women only, but I knew this was her intention from the last time I saw her. When she saw men, she always had a friend, another domme I assumed, in one of the bedrooms upstairs, just in case. When she saw women, she felt there was no need; it was just safer. The missing scales turned out to be our ice-breaker in the conversation, though, as I enquired about their whereabouts and it made her laugh.

To interrupt the dialogue slightly, I had noticed the scales from my first visit and on asking about them received a hard look and was told, “They are for ladies who are concerned about their weight.”

Given at this time of my enquiry I was just recovering from a thoroughly well administered ‘six of the best’, the stare I received made me desist from the line of questioning. My bottom was sore enough and at that time I wasn’t brave enough to take extra strokes. Well, unless I had misbehaved a bit, rubbed my bottom, or blasphemed.

Today, though, as we sipped our second cup of tea, she explained how she came to possess a pair of surgical scales. For most of her time as a domme it was men she saw, never women. Men would turn up, say, “I’ve been a naughty boy,” (pointed remark made about how un-original men were) then take a caning. “Always the cane,” she mused. “Must have reminded them of their schooldays. Men never grow up, do they?

We chewed it over for a minute, but then she told me the first time a lady rang. It was to ask for disciplinary help with dieting. The lady concerned had tried everything, but kept losing control, and wondered if a spanking might help.

“I was actually very surprised when she turned up,” I was told, but apparently once they got on to talking a story unfolded, and in the end the lady concerned undressed and took a slippering from a gym shoe.

“Things really went on from there.”

A few weeks later, the same thing happened again but with a different lady, for the same reason though.

“I did wonder if they knew each other, but in the end decided it was just coincidence. And soon after that the first lady called again, out of the blue, and told me that while the slippering had helped she had fallen by the wayside a little and wondered if she could see me again.”

There was a deep breath, and a glance to me.

“She came around again, this time I knew she would arrive for sure. Second time around, people are more reliable. This time we had a longer talk, and I could tell she was genuine. She was overweight, not terribly so, but what she wanted was a regular appraisal, and she actually offered to buy the scales, although I later discovered she had bought them already from a chemist’s shop that was closing down.

“It took about an hour to get to the facts; it was like getting blood out of a stone. Also, she had a request that, as she was married, she was wary of being marked and said the sole of the plimsoll had left a certain indentation, so I spanked her next time with a carpet slipper.

“She never made a fuss,” then, bitingly, “Unlike you sometimes!”

We exchanged smiles.

“She started coming regularly after that and, despite losing some weight, she told me that the weighings and spankings kept her on her toes, and even once she had lost the weight she decided to keep coming every month.

I just smiled, and listened.

“Then another lady rang, and she also came around. I don’t think the idea of being weighed had crossed her mind, but once she saw the scales she too thought that it might be a good idea to have a weight control programme. I do remember her, on her second visit she had asked about the cane and would she receive it if she persistently missed her weight targets? I realised she was keen to try it so I ended up caning her. Not too hard the first time, but I remember her ringing me a few days later and thanking me for it. She actually thanked me for caning her! She too visited a few times, then stopped. I do remember her taking a good few canings and she requested I really lay it on, so I did. She never yelped. And that’s really how it all started; there were a few more, most only came once though. But I had three fairly regular ladies who came here, stood on the scales and then were spanked.

Another smile, then, “I knew they expected to be spanked by the underwear they had chosen.”

I didn’t get it for a second. Oh, of course. If you are going to be asked to expose yourself like that you might as well look your best. One grin became an exchange of grins but nothing was said. I felt like asking if any of them had been successful in their weight control programs but it was fairly obvious most were using it as a reason to visit.

“A friend of mine had advertised in ICT, I think, (she meant ITC) or something like that, found she got somehow a better clientele with most people who called actually turning up.”

I had been told by her, when we had got to know each other better, i.e. when she had caned my bottom several times, that no-shows’ were the bane of her life. Anyway, my domme tried it too. She advertised just a few times, I remember her saying four, and I had answered the last one.

“Before you, there were others dear!” she laughed.

We need a little break here, but we’d re-established contact.

After reconvening, the subject drifted away a little.

“I didn’t really like taking money from other women,” she said. “Most were married and having to take it out of the housekeeping, but what surprised me was almost everyone, no, wait, everyone, insisted. I did charge less and somehow I actually enjoyed it! There, I‘ve said it!” She laughed out loud.

So where did I fit into the scheme of things?

There was a pause.

“Well, I had a small number of ladies I was seeing regularly. Regularly in this business is maybe every two or three months.” She paused and nodded her head a bit, obviously trying to remember something. “Well, apart from the first lady who came to me and that was monthly. And occasionally another new one of course, the advert brought a few. I would say that until I advertised all the ladies I was asked to spank seemed to fasten on needing help for their weight loss.”

Another pause, another smile.

“Or they were using that as a reason for coming here.”

We drifted back over some things we’d talked about earlier, so I asked about the response to the adverts.

“Well, several men of course. I saw men more than women. But somehow I remember the women more. It definitely became more common and now from what I hear it’s getting close to 50/50.”

This quite surprised me. In fact I was quite taken aback.

“Oh yes,” she said, replying to the look on my face. “I have a friend. She calls herself Claudia, and she only sees women now. She charges less than she used to charge men, but can see them on her own.”

There was a hearty chuckle, then she looked at me again.

“You get all sorts in London, dear, all sorts! And Claudia knows various others who do this. That 50/50 number came from her.”

I told her my story, about the curiosity, the nerves, but she changed the subject again. Not a lot though.

“From one of the adverts, a younger girl called me. I think all my other ladies were in their forties or fifties, she was just younger. And why you reminded me so much of her was how young you both were, and you both sounded so nervous at first when you called.”

I got another glowing smile. It was true, when I first rang I was a bag of nerves and stammered my way through the call.

“She was actually very honest. An appointment was made and she turned up. I remember that day really well. My guess was right, she was quite young, maybe in her mid-twenties. Nice looking girl. She told me it was a curiosity and she had to try it once. She had no real idea of what she wanted, just a spanking. So we went into the back room and I showed her some of my equipment. In the end, she took off her trousers and went across my knee. I just spanked her with my hand for about four or five minutes until I thought she had had enough. She rubbed her bottom for a bit but then asked if she could handle the other things, so I agreed. She slapped a few of them across her hand or her thigh, or sometimes both. She was nicely spoken and quite self assured, and quite giggly, which I put down to her nerves coming out. Finally she handled the canes and seemed to spend a lot more time on them. Then she asked me if I caned across the hand or bottom. I told her it was nearly always across the bottom, but I saw no reason not to give it across the hand as this was more traditional in some parts of the country. She asked if she could try a stroke across her hand. ‘Just one,’ she said. I took the cane off her, the one she was holding, and told her to hold one of her hands out. I did give her a spank with that cane and she whipped her hand under her armpit. I was a bit surprised, I’d not hit her very hard. However, what happened next surprised me more. After a few moments, she asked for a stroke on her other hand, saying she should have maintained position. I did ask her if she was sure, but she just raised her other hand, the right one, without saying a word, so I did as she asked. This time she left it in position, but I told her she could put it down and she gave it a good rub.

“I do remember that well. It was the first time I had ever used the cane on someone’s hand. I half expected her to ask me to cane her bottom, but after we chatted for a little while she just left. I didn’t think I would ever see her again. Another girl came to see me about then, but I can’t remember much about her. She made a bit of a fuss, I think she had a slippering, but she never came back. Actually, there might have been a couple like that. In fact there might have been maybe three. Younger girls mainly came here, tried it out, decided it wasn’t for them. But full marks for trying.”

We needed another break around now and, while I had plenty of time I was keen to know what she thought about my own performance. I knew I squealed a few times but I insisted she cane me properly. I too had wanted to know what it was like, and also I had realised as we talked just how much I had also been seeking discipline in my life. I wasn’t especially disorganised but I had come to realise in those days before an appointment I was far more clear-headed and seemed to get ten times the work done. It was the same after; well, after a couple of days of getting used to a sore bottom. Then I had a couple of days of feeling really pleased with myself, quite exhilarated in fact, when again I seemed to get through my work a lot quicker.

After visiting the bathroom, the same as I remembered it, I was asked if I was OK for time. Yes, I was.

“So, how did I rate amongst your ladies?” I asked.

Another warm smile. And a pause.

“Well dear, you were nervous but quite clear you wanted to feel the cane.”

Another smile, and a new expression.

“The first time, you were very quiet and edgy, but I admired you for telling me about your previous domme and how getting changed helped you get into role. And I recall you took your panties down without me asking you!”

I hadn’t remembered this, but it was true. I was almost shaking.

“You do have a nice bottom, dear,” she said, smiling at me again. A wicked sort of smile. “I know after that you made a fuss a couple of times.”

I replied, “I got extra strokes for it.”

Sharp as ever, she said, “I think you wanted them.”

I felt my face start blushing furiously. There was the most perverse pleasure in being caned, not easily described, of bending over and having a quite whippy but heavy cane applied slowly but firmly to your bottom; the fierce sting of the impact giving way to the most incredibly intense smarting, the burning feeling lasting a day or more and the marks absolutely gorgeous to look at once the immediate pain had died down.

I could only smile back and say, “I probably did.”

“Well, something else was going on that I couldn’t really tell you about. The young lady I mentioned earlier did come back, and this time she asked for the cane. She wanted it on her hands as well as her bottom and said she wanted to be treated like a schoolgirl who kept breaking the rules. As we were discussing this she was a bag of nerves, yet so courageous. She insisted on having quite a severe caning.”

Raised eyebrows this time.

“Again, like you!” she said.

It turned out this happened in the same week that I was first there.

I was suddenly keen to know what had happened.

“Well, I couldn’t just start caning her without some indication of what she actually wanted.” There was a nod of the head. “I’m conscious about the time, and I don’t want you to miss your train.” She paused. “Anyway, to cut a long story short I caned her hands and bottom, the same as I would anyone else. And she wanted two strokes on each hand. Despite her crying afterwards, she returned again, about as often as you. Then after she had been caned the next time, she asked if she could bring a lady friend who wanted to witness the punishment. Well, that happened once, I think, but next time the lady friend wanted to try a couple of strokes herself. After that I ended up spanking them both the same way. They came several more times and told me outright they loved watching each other getting spanked.”

My libido shot up at this, and Mrs Domme noticed.

“It’s why adult school is popular, I think,” she said with another smile.

My very first initiation had been through adult school and I’d not really liked it, but afterwards I did have some private sessions with the lady who ran it. However, the distance ended up being too much. I smiled back. In the end, I suppose I got something of what I wanted.

“I did enjoy caning you the most, dear,” she said. “You have a lovely bottom, and once we had got used to each other you took your hidings really well.”

I felt myself blush again.

She shook her head. “I‘m just sorry I can’t offer to spank you again, but I have so much pain in my shoulder.” I saw her nodding to herself as she went on: “I know Claudia is busy today, otherwise I would have asked her. I do still have my canes and some of the straps, so give me more notice next time and I will see what we can do. I saw you blush before, so if group spanking interests you I am sure you’ll be pleased to know those girls I referred to earlier are actually in a relationship and now see Claudia. I doubt they would be open, but there may be others.”

On a whim, as I was collecting my things ready to leave, I asked if I could see her canes again and we walked into the back room. They were in the sideboard. I shivered slightly as I handled them.

“This was my favourite,” I was told.

It was the longest, slimmest cane. I saw it tapered slightly. It was very dark, flexible, and really hurt. The thicker cane was less flexible, also dark in colour, it left marks that lasted the longest. I smiled and put them away, I didn’t want to give the impression that I was angling even for one stroke. It would have been nice, but unfair.

About five minutes later, I left after a lovely hug at the front door, my mind a turmoil of thought. Last time I went down the front steps here my bottom was smarting like mad, and adorned with cane stripes that lasted for days. Now I was pristine and pale and regretting it. We both understood my visit was a one-off and my circumstances made it nearly impossible to come to London, but I knew in those seconds the passion I had for being spanked was not dead, only dormant. What a really lovely afternoon.

There were two texts by the time I got to Kings Cross station. One from my agent to say what we assumed had been a good meeting and a win would be subject to a further review, annoying, and one giving me the phone number of Mistress Claudia. The first I just ignored; I could deal with it later.

With the second, I texted back to say how lovely it had been to meet up and thanked her for the contact information and the tea, but suddenly just a couple of moments after I pressed ‘send’, I realised what she had been trying to say, that it was her who would like to watch Mistress Claudia take a cane to my bottom. As the train pulled away, I wistfully wondered who would have enjoyed it more; Mistress, watching, or me, bent over the table, my bottom bared, having a whippy, stinging cane applied to it. And maybe also, to my hands. No, not maybe. I wanted to try it. A proper beating, no half measures.

So, I sent a second text, then wished I hadn’t. It would not be possible. Not for now, at least. The reply was comforting though.

It read, simply, “I understand, but it’s here if you want it.”