London Spanking

Spanking & Caning in London with Miss Elsa Svenson


The School room

My new school room is a labour of love, a homage to the Eng­lish gram­mar schools of the 1950s. the golden age of school cor­po­ral pun­ish­ment. I have spent many happy hours dec­o­rat­ing and fur­nish­ing it, so that it feels authen­tic, and of the period, not just any old room with a few cheap props.
The room is big­ger than my study in Penge, which some of you will remem­ber, and feels more like an old-fashioned class­room, with bare wooden floor­boards, a cou­ple of desks, a black­board and a stout wooden desk behind which your stern, unsmil­ing teacher will sit, ready to strike like a cobra if you step out of line. And I do mean strike!
From the moment you enter the room, you will be a naughty school­boy again, ner­vous of ret­ri­bu­tion at the hands of your beau­ti­ful, mer­ci­less teacher. If you want to enter into the spirit by wear­ing short school trousers, I will be able to sup­ply you with some. Give your imag­i­na­tion full rein.
While you are in the room, under my strict and expert super­vi­sion, you will be able to for­get about every­thing else and just be a scared school­boy again. You might be tested on geog­ra­phy and arith­metic — and pun­ished if your answers are not up to scratch. You might be made to sit at your desk, writ­ing lines, prepara­tory to a more seri­ous pun­ish­ment. Or you might face the humil­i­a­tion of being put across my knee for a crisp bare-bottom spank­ing. Imag­ine your squeals of protest. Imag­ine your bot­tom red­den­ing as my hand lands on it again and again. Imag­ine…
Bot­tom spanked, you will prob­a­bly be made to stand in the cor­ner, with your hands on your head and your bot­tom exposed. And if you think a spanked bot­tom will be the end of your trou­bles, you can­not have attended a tough gram­mar Eng­lish school in the 1950s. Unless you really are on your best behav­iour, you will find your­self bent over my desk, with your trousers at half mast, for six of the very best with my senior cane.
Trav­el­ling back down Mem­ory Lane to one’s child­hood can some­times be a plea­sur­able expe­ri­ence. But travel down this par­tic­u­lar Mem­ory Lane, back into the world of the naughty school­boy of bygone days, and the plea­sure will be spiced with a tin­gling pain in the part of your anatomy where it will do most good.’

Just off my school­room, and also dec­o­rated with lov­ing atten­tion to period detail, is a small box room which I have con­verted into a naughty boy’s bed­room, com­plete with suit­able read­ing mat­ter etc. Many was the boy who used to be sent to bed with a smacked bot­tom in the 1950s and 1960s and, for those of you wish to re-enact that expe­ri­ence, I am happy to offer a B & B expe­ri­ence. (NB: this is only avail­able to clients whom I have already met.) A friend of mine called Michael recently became the first to test the new B & B expe­ri­ence, and here is his feedback:

Wow! I mean ouch! That was like a table­spoon of tabasco added to an already siz­zling hot curry. The role play was just bril­liant. A final six of the best with the cane in the class­room, then straight to bed with no sup­per and a warn­ing that you expected lights out at nine o’clock sharp — or else! Need­less to say, I broke the rules and copped it. When you checked up on me at nine-fifteen and found me read­ing a book by torch-light under the bed­clothes, you were absolutely furi­ous. My pyjama bot­toms came down and I felt the full force of your hair­brush over your knee, then a dozen with the strap lying face down on the bed with a pil­low under the stom­ach. I fell asleep with a throb­bing bot­tom and your final words ring­ing in my ear. ‘I will fin­ish deal­ing with you before break­fast.’ It is the first time I have been caned before break­fast. It was agony, but rounded off a truly mem­o­rable night in the best pos­si­ble way. Thanks again, dear Miss Svenson.’