Stay Sane. Consent to the Cane.

by Dec 20, 2016Miss Kendal's Blog0 comments




Stay Sane. Consent to the Cane.

It is a delectable implement. The cane.

Quintessentially British, unquestionably traditional, with the power to strike fear into the heart of the bravest of souls.

I’ve long been a fan of a whimpering gentleman, and nothing quite makes them whimper like the SWISH of my cane behind their bare bottom.

But what is it that draws us to this instrument of terror?

I make it no secret to my clients that I have switched in my private life; indeed, my journey into the weirdly wonderful world of BDSM began as a wide-eyed, incredibly eager submissive. I received my first caning at the tender age of 19, and I cried like a child. It was painful far beyond my anticipation, and I struggled to sit down comfortably for over a week, yet I’d never felt so liberated and happy.

It wasn’t long before I wanted to wield one myself; that curious sadist inside just had to have a play! I fell instantly in love. This lightweight piece of rattan in my hand was the most beautiful weapon I had ever brandished. Flexible, elegant, and utterly empowering.

I’ve always been somewhat of an autodidact, and what followed was night after night of caning pillows against chairs to practice accuracy and force. Driven by determination, and sheer horniness, I caned anyone and everyone who would let me!

Those of you who follow my writings will know I am not one for ‘props’ necessarily, though I must admit there are a select few items that simply ooze dominance. The cane is one of them. I cannot deny the overwhelming sense of power it gives me. Wielding this implement is an art form in itself.

My canes are an extension of my body. They flex when I do, move when I move. Every stroke I administer is passionate, meaningful; I want you to feel me through the pain, to know that it is my gift to you in that moment.

Not everyone who attends me is masochistic, only a very small minority in fact, so I understand that often it is not pain that is being sought. Nevertheless, it is accepted that the pain must be endured to reach the ultimate goal. It’s bittersweet, but each stroke brings you closer to ecstasy.

I invite you to entrust me with your tender backside; newbies and old hats alike! Give me the sweet gift of your submission, and I will take you to places you have only dreamed of.

A place where your cries are ignored.

A place where your choices are denied.

A place you fear.

A place you crave.

Your place.

Beneath my cane.