Visiting a disciplinarian for the cane

Reading a story on ‘over the desk’ gave me the final push I needed to visit a dominatrix and experience corporal punishment for myself. Please don’t ask why. I have asked myself the same question a million times.

I made the booking and went last week. I did not write straight away as I thought it right to calm myself down and try to take a reasoned view.

I wanted more than anything to experience a caning. I could hardly get the words out when I rang. I was asked a lot of questions; I could hardly speak sometimes. I agreed to confidentiality and decided on no photos, just in case anybody ever found them. No photos equals no risk.

I was in a complete dither on the day. My eldest asked at breakfast if I was ok and he never notices anything except his breakfast.

I decided on normal clothes like I was just going shopping. Then half an hour after the kids left for school I left for the tube. I was shaking when I got there and rang the bell. I met my dominatrix who was pleasant, just like on the phone, and I guess she could tell I was very nervous.

We did a little transaction; I didn’t mind at all. She suggested a cup of tea and a chat to calm me down, but I thought it was probably best to get on with it. I did ask to see the cane and she showed me it, then we went through to another room with straps and canes and a punishment horse. When we had talked on the phone she had told me that it would be best to have a spanking first to warm me up and it would help to take the caning. I undressed as she said and went over her knee and she spanked me with her hand for a while until my bottom was warmed up. The spanks were not particularly hard, as I remember. Then she told me to get up, which I did, and told me to stand near the horse. She picked up the cane I had been looking at and told me that I had requested a ‘six of the best’ and if I moved or stood up I would get the stroke again, but if it was too much to use a safeword (just ‘stop’) and the caning would end. However, I was absolutely determined to go through with it despite my nerves so I took my knickers off and  bent over the horse.

It is terribly hard to describe the feeling of being caned. It stung and burned at the same time, and I am sure I was not being caned all that hard. However, the actual burst of pain is massive and very hard to take. It made me nearly breathless and I was gritting my teeth very hard from the very first stroke. I also cried out loud a few times after some of the impacts. However, I took my six strokes and was told to stand and then congratulated and told I could rub my bottom, which was urgently needed. She said she would leave me alone for a few minutes, but then would I like a cup of tea, which I agreed to.

I made myself decent whilst rubbing my very hot and very sore bum, asking myself what in the hell I had done. I had some tears then, though not after the actual caning.

So we had a cup of tea together and I had some nice remarks made about how well I had taken it. I was curious to know if this lady saw other women but she said, “well, I do, but….” and made a sort of face. “I wouldn’t discuss what we have just done with anyone else,” she said and I got the point.

I made sure I looked OK before heading out. I knew my eyes were a bit shiny after crying but otherwise I was OK and it was not likely I would meet anyone. I got the tube back in the right direction and did a little bit of shopping in Sainsbury’s then back home.

I certainly didn’t feel elated, just flat and angry with myself. I could see the cane lines on my bottom but they didn’t really mean anything then. My recollection of the immediate hours afterwards was to keep asking myself “what have I done” and I had an extra glass of wine when I went to bed. However, the kids did get me busy and I realised I had quickly forgotten my sore bum in the general evening mayhem of food/homework/playstation fights. I did check my teeth; I don’t think I have ever grated them so much.

Funnily enough, the next day I felt a lot better and I was less angry with myself. I felt myself talking to myself, saying “well you’ve been and gone and done it, you hated it, but at least you know never to do anything so stupid again” and somehow this cheered me up a bit. I was wincing when I sat down though and, ‘medium’ caning or not, I concluded it had been effective.

Next day I was at work and taking care when I sat down, but it went off OK. That night, though, I felt loads better and after the kids were asleep I looked at the cane marks for ages. I decided I liked having them! I decided to wait a few more days, though, before writing up my experience.

It was PW’s story that set this off and I’m grateful for her for giving me the impetus to at least try it out. What she writes about is correct, the immediate feelings afterwards are very negative, withdrawal, anger with oneself, that sort of thing. But a few days later I was indeed really proud of testing myself like this and having the marks to show it. I did feel quite sexy and somehow strong inside.

Would I go again? I am not sure. It is said, ‘do the thing you fear, and the fear leaves you’. No it doesn’t!!! Being caned is an exceptional experience and I am not sure going again would involve any less nerves or fear. On the other hand, I have now been caned, have survived, and have felt really good about myself for actually having done it.

So thank you, PW, for writing such a strong and beautiful story. I would like to hug Miss PW!

SJ


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