Our neighbours have no idea what we do in the privacy of our home, and I'm quite sure we appear to them as an unremarkable couple. Perhaps we even live next door to you. Occasionally, when the opportunity presents itself, and I am in the mood, I reacquaint my partner, Robert, with my darker side. This is the catalyst that transforms Robert into a role of total obedience and fear. It excites us both, we share a passion. I become one of the cruel and sadistic ladies in one of my stories, and Robert becomes her terrified whipping boy. Sometimes it is Robert who initiates the transformation, sometimes his need to be thrashed is more pressing than my desire to oblige, but usually it is me who takes the first step. It could be just a look, or the mention of an historic building we visited some years ago that we both remember preceded a particularly memorable caning. We each recognise the signals from each other. We can pass these signals in the company of others, and they will be oblivious to the fact that they have witnessed the first move towards Robert submitting to me for another thrashing. This account details the side of us that our neighbours never see.
I won't attempt to explain why I so love to cane and tawse bare bottoms. I'm not aware that the administering of corporal punishment runs in my family and I can think of no event in my life that have might have made me this way. I just accept that I have a passion for it and I'm fortunate in being able to put that passion into practice with a consenting and enthusiastic partner. His bottom is constantly decorated with the marks of a recent caning or tawsing, and a fresh set of vivid weals are usually added before the previous set have faded. It would be nice to occasionally work on a 'blank canvas', but I'm too impatient and not usually able to wait that long. One has to compromise.
Robert is also unable to explain his addiction to being on the receiving end of my thrashings. When instructed, he always obediently gives up control and submits to some quite eye-watering punishments. “I must be mad to let you do that to me,” he once commented. I have to confess I agree with him – he is completely mad, and I'm very fortunate to have met him.
The first clues to my taste for administering corporal punishment might have been observed when I was just a young girl. While my friends enjoyed nursing and feeding their dolls, mine were always naughty and I spanked them regularly and enthusiastically. It's no real surprise that when I grew up, after a few unhappy years working in offices, mainly for men, that I should become a professional disciplinarian. I became one of those fortunate people who earned money doing what they love. I've spanked, caned, tawsed, paddled, slippered and whipped the bare bottoms of hundreds of whimpering gentlemen. Politicians, members of the judiciary and managing directors have all bared their bottoms and bent over to receive the kiss of my cane. How would you like to cane your bank manager? I've caned a few, perhaps one was yours.
When you find yourself in a busy city railway station and you're watching city gents on their way to their various offices and financial institutions, how many of them do you think are hiding cane striped bottoms under their pinstripes? Probably more than you imagine. A few years ago it might well have been me who put them there.
For me, there is nothing more pleasurable than the swish of a cane followed by sound of it biting deep into a bare bottom and the resultant shrieks of agony and gasping of the recipient. I love to have a grown man struggling helplessly while secured over a whipping bench, unable to cope with the agony of my canes and tawses.
My personal preference is to administer severe thrashings, and I'm fortunate that there are many gentlemen who crave them, my partner included. For me, punishment is supposed to hurt, so the more it hurts the better. I prefer to have my recipients securely restrained so there is no way out for them. They are totally at my mercy, and they receive none. The cane can be so much more painful than many people realise. Often, during my career as a disciplinarian I would accept a new client who wished to experience their first caning. They may have fantasised and read about being caned for years before taking the plunge. Now they wanted to experience the real thing but they would often not appreciate just how agonising it can be.
“I deserve six of the best, hard, on the bare, please Miss,” would be a typical request.
“Are you quite sure, Desmond? I think you may find it somewhat more painful than you imagine,” I would warn. “Oh yes, Miss. I have a high pain threshold,” he might reply.
“Very well, Desmond, six of the best across the bare bottom it will be. Trousers and pants down, then bend over the desk and grasp the far side.”
I didn't usually restrain a client until we had built up a degree of trust, and this was especially the case when dealing with a virgin of the cane, such as Desmond. I would keep him in suspense for a few minutes, with his bare, upturned bottom twitching in anticipation of its first ever stroke, while I selected a cane (in his case, a junior cane). Then, after taking my position to his side and tapping the cane lightly across his expectant bottom to get the measure of the implement, I might say:
“Desmond, prepare yourself for the caning you so richly deserve. I suggest you take a deep breath.”
After a few more taps, and a few swishes of the cane through the air (I love to watch buttocks clench in anticipation when I do this), I would administer a nice, crisp, stroke to Desmond's bare bottom. My word! What a shock it could be! They would often leap up, hands clutching their bare bottom, face contorted with agony and shock.
“Please, Miss. No more! I had no idea it would be so painful! I can't take any more.”
Occasionally, it was quite obvious that the client had made a serious mistake. Fantasy and reality were so far removed from one another that they would probably never elect to feel the reality of the cane again. In this case, sadly, the remainder of the caning would be cancelled. More often, however, I would reprimand them for moving out of position and threaten to add more strokes if they didn't bend back over immediately. I would then continue the caning, perhaps not putting quite so much venom into the strokes. It would still hurt and they would gasp and squeal, but they would take the full six. They would usually feel elated afterwards, proud that they had taken it, and would thank me for insisting they go through with it. Often they'd return at a later date, suggesting that I may have been a bit too lenient with them. I would, of course, be delighted to rectify this.
Why a person would want to have their bare bottom thrashed hard is as much a mystery to me as why I so love obliging. Some, especially those in senior managerial positions, may occasionally feel compelled to shed all their responsibilities and take a step back to their school days. Perhaps they need to occasionally have somebody control them. Perhaps a strict aunt or headmistress who will punish them for some of their guilty secrets. Some have no idea at all and after searching for a reason and failing to find one, they may just conclude that it's just in their genes. They can spend their life suppressing it or just accept it and get on and enjoy it.
A change in my circumstances put an end to my career as a professional disciplinarian. I cannot deny that I find the punishment of bare bottoms erotic and I am now loyal to my long suffering partner, Robert. It's his bottom only that now dances and writhes under the cut of my canes and the bite of my tawses. Of the hundreds of gentlemen who reported to me for a good thrashing, many came back for more, so I feel I'm justified in concluding that I'm a proficient disciplinarian. In this section I will share some of this experience with you, along with some of my ideas and thoughts on the subject.
Annie Bee is not the name I used when I was a professional disciplinarian. If you have ever reported to a professional disciplinarian for punishment, then who knows, it might have been me.