Miss Elsa Svenson

Spanking & Caning in London with Miss Elsa Svenson

 
 

Spanking story competition 2 — entry 13 by Jamie B!

So what’s the most intense feel­ing one can experience?

 

- Fear of the unknown?

 

- The rush of adren­a­line when you push your­self just that lit­tle bit fur­ther than you thought possible?

 

- The tum­bling of your stom­ach in the pres­ence of a beau­ti­ful woman?

 

You don’t know?!

 

Try stand­ing out­side that large wood­en door, clutch­ing a piece of paper in my hand and star­ing ner­vous­ly at the embossed sign that read: “Miss Sven­son — Headmistress”.

 

Just try doing that and see how you feel as you knock on that door, hear a curt voice bark “Enter”, turn the han­dle and walk in as instructedÖ

 

In the moment you hand Miss Sven­son the piece of paper that describes exact­ly why you’ve been sent to her as she opens it, reads it and frowns, you’ll feel all three com­bined. That sim­ple crease of her fore­head seems such an inno­cent gues­ture yet it con­veys many things instant­ly — you’re in trou­ble — a lot of trou­ble — and by the time you leave this room, you’ll have paid dear­ly for the fun that got you into this mess in the first placeÖ

 

 

 

Every­one does it, right? You’re in a shop, no one is look­ing — so you grab some­thing, stick it under your coat and swift­ly walk out before you’re noticedÖ except some­one did notice. You got caught, were report­ed and sent to Miss Sven­son to be dealt with. You recall the words of the lady who caught you so clear­ly — ” In my day you’d have got a damn good thrash­ing and you’d think twice about steal­ing again — so here’s my dealÖ take this note to a friend of mine, allow her to deal with you accord­ing­ly, return back here and show me proof and we’ll let this mat­ter drop. Refuse and I’ll get the Police involved — you’ll get a crim­i­nal record and maybe lose your jobÖ you decideÖ”

 

 

 

Miss Sven­son looks up at you and shakes her head sad­ly. Stand up and walks to the cen­tre of the room. She pulls over a chair, sits upon it and straight­ens her tight black skirt.

 

I despise thieves. You are despi­ca­ble. I am going to give you a spank­ing you’ll not for­get in a hur­ry. Get over here, boy.”

 

You do so.

 

Over my knee.”

 

Again you do as youíre instructed.

 

Her left arm push­es into the small of your back and holds you firm­ly in place as her right hand ris­es and descends in a rapid stac­ca­to rhythm as she begins to spank your back­side sharply. It kind of stings but not real­ly — if this is a ‘damn good thrash­ing’ then you’re get­ting off eas­i­ly — but then:

 

Stand up and remove your trousers”

 

You do so — and when beck­oned, return over her knee after which the spank­ing resumes. This is start­ing to sting a lit­tle more — not too uncom­fort­able but then you feel your pants being low­ered. You start to feel it now — a warmth build­ing almost to the point of feel­ing uncom­fort­able. But hey, you can han­dle thisÖ

 

The spank­ing stops. You hear a draw­er being opened and closed. A cool flat object rests light­ly against your but­tocks and is rubbed over the warm sur­face. This is nice! Thanks Miss Sven­son! It is lift­ed and falls rapid­ly with a loud ‘splat!’ — a hair­brush — oh godÖ NO! This isn’t so goodÖ NOÖ NOÖ stopÖ the brush strikes over and over relent­less­ly. You strug­gle and find your right arm pinned behind your back, your legs locked in place by her right leg — no escape. It HURTS. STOP. PLEASE.

 

Final­ly the spank­ing ends and Miss Sven­son releas­es her iron grip on you. You stand up and she directs you to the cor­ner where you are instruct­ed to stand with your hands on your head while your back­side throbs and burns.

 

That’s for steal­ing” she calls out as she strides over to a cup­board in the far cor­ner, opens the door and retrieves some­thingÖ “Now this will teach you not to steal again”…

 

You dare to glance over your shoul­der and catch a glimpse of a heavy black leather strap that Miss Sven­son holds firm­ly in her right hand as she draws the busi­ness end over her left palmÖ

 

Get over here and hold your left hand out” she demands. Of course you do as you’re told. She lifts the strap high over her shoul­der and then with fear­some enthu­si­asm draws it back over and brings it slam­ming across your palm with a tremen­dous crack. The pain is imme­di­ate and dev­as­tat­ing. You pull your hand away and right away she shouts at you “Hold that hand back out, boy”. Oh GodÖ you do as you’re told but it’s so hardÖ a sec­ond and third stroke fol­low and then you’re told to present your right hand for the same treat­ment. Then a fur­ther three strokes are deliv­ered to both hands again as she shouts out “Let this be a leson to you, boy. If you are EVER sent to me again you’ll feel the wrath of my cane.“Ö

 

 

 

You know how some­times your mouth works with no dis­cernible assis­tance from your brain? How your con­scious mind seems to sim­ply observe as your mouth utters words that it knows you’ll regret lat­er? This is one of those occa­sion­sÖ and time seems to slow almost to a stop as your lips form one sin­gle word that you bare­ly whis­per but which Miss Sven­son imme­di­ate­ly responds toÖ

 

Bitch.”

 

Her strap falls to her side. Her mouth opens and eye­brows rise in sur­prise and then sur­prise turns to anger and it’s as if a storm is gath­er­ing on the hori­zon — all seems calm but bad things are about to hap­pen. She march­es back over to her cup­board, throws the strap into it, reach­es in and with­draws a long, straight han­dled cane then strides back towards you, unbut­ton­ing the sleeve of the right hand sleeve of her blouse with her left hand as she does so then rolls it up past her elbow, reveal­ing what would in oth­er cir­cum­stances appear to be a quite love­ly, wom­an­ly arm but in this sit­u­a­tion all you can think about is how toned that slen­der fore­arm appears. The tem­pest is upon you as she lit­er­al­ly yells at you:

 

BEND OVER MY DESK, HOLD ON TO THE OTHER SIDE AND DON’T YOU *DARE* GET OUT OF THAT POSITION UNTIL I TELL YOU TO.”

 

Oh God. Why did you say that stu­pid word. WHY.

 

DID YOU NOT HEAR ME, BOY? GET OVER THAT DESK. I’LL TEACH YOU JUST HOW MUCH OF A BITCH I CAN BE.”

 

This is ter­ri­fy­ing — the calm, con­trolled woman has left and in her place, a furi­ous female intent on unleash­ing her wrath upon you with a stur­dy and ter­ri­fy­ing three feet of whip­py cane!

 

Fear­ing the con­se­quences of refusal, you do as you’re told. You bend over, you hold on to the far side firm­ly and then, the love­ly Miss Sven­son plain­ly and sim­ply gives you the thrash­ing of your life. Twen­ty four times the cane ris­es and falls. You can hear her utter lit­tle moans of exer­tion fol­lowed by a loud ‘whoosh’ and an explo­sive ‘kerr-ACK’ as she beats you and in turn you cry out over and over again. Tears stream down your face, col­lect­ing into two small pools on the hard wood­en sur­face of the desk.

 

 

 

So what’s the most intense feel­ing one can experience?

 

If you real­ly want the answer, get caught steal­ing, call Miss Sven­son a bitch and ask your­self the ques­tion again as you care­ful­ly try to sit down afterwards!

 

 

 

 

 

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