My relationship with Miss Brown began in 2017 on a professional level. I was touring London as a spanking model and had received a request from a gentleman to voyeur a scenario where a professional domestic disciplinarian punished me. I had not met this gent before, however I knew of the one-and-only Strictly Miss Brown from years of perusing the internet, and more particularly twitter.

Miss Brown and I had no communication prior to the day, and all negotiations and consent was driven through the Gentleman orchestrating the scenario. I was quite terrified as one is before presenting themselves to one of the world’s greatest disciplinarians! However, as a professional submissive I offer bottom for punishment to many of whom have little to no experience or skills with discipline at all so my fear was that I would disappoint Mistress, rather than a fear of the cane.

We had organised to meet at Miss Browns office at 2pm on a Friday afternoon. I was to wear a casual sun dress with white knickers and white ankle socks. I was to take 24 strokes of the cane, with the potential for the gentleman to join in as he saw fit. It was a sweltering summer night in London that night before the session and I had difficulty sleeping. I thought it best to kill time by ironing my blue sundress and knickers just in case any creases became a focal point of my soon-to-be realised thrashing. (I thrive off this type of anticipation and fussing like this is certainly part of my foreplay!)

I woke to find an email from our gentleman stating that he could no longer make it, however he would meet me at my hotel and pay the full fee in the hopes that I would continue on to the scene alone. Being paid to have a private session with Miss Brown seemed like a dream come true!

The trip to Miss Browns studio was about 40 minutes, and I decided to walk in an effort to make time pass more quickly. The early afternoon sun graced my bare legs as I walked slowly through the city, the wind catching my sundress and lifting it ever so slightly to reveal my pressed white knickers. I decided to take the same route home; the idea of risking that same breeze with a thoroughly striped bottom was certainly exciting.

As I reached the building I watched the numbers of the clock tick down on my phone before ringing the bell. You go into a certain type of consenting complacency when faced with the reality of your choices at a point like this. I think I climbed the stairwell with a gleaming smile on my face that was half ‘what on earth have you gotten yourself into now’ and half ‘oh my goodness how exciting you are meeting a superstar!’.

Miss Brown opened the door and we were both a bit giggly at our wonderful luck to have a such an intimate experience together, just two professionals doing what they do best. We had a chat and a drink of water, before the giggly anticipation turned into a stern and commanding request to bend over for a uniform inspection. I stood up and slowly bent over in front of Miss Brown, glad I had taken the time with the white knickers.

Before long, I was put over her knee and my punishment began. There is no word to best describe the punishment spanking of a professional disciplinarian other than thorough; perhaps relentless? In Australia we have very few specialised disciplinarians. There is no spanking scene at all, no caning parties, no fantasy school detention events. All the specialised CP professionals are also Mistresses– this is due to the demand of course. Great Britain has a much richer history of corporal punishment that wasn’t carried over to the colonies. (Truth be told, I plan on retiring to the UK and working out my twighlight years as a CP switch… one can dream!)

The ‘beautiful honeyed tones’ within which Miss Brown ordered me around that day will forever be in my heart. The warmth and ease of her command is both frightening in its finality, and encouraging; very real. I absolutely felt that she wanted to reform me and was genuinely invested in my wellbeing. Well, who wouldn’t succumb to such advances?

“Pull your knickers down and present your bottom for punishment. You know this is for the best don’t you.”

I placed my elbows on her heavy wooden desk. She lifted my sundress high around my waist to expose my bare bottom, and brushed her fine, soft hands gently against my blushing flesh. Under her breath I could hear she was pleased with both her work so far, and with the shape of my naked, well-presented bottom.

“The headteacher has requested you receive 24 of the best, in 2 sets of 12. They will be hard as I need to know you will learn your lesson. It’s not often girls are sent to me for a boy’s punishment.”

Now, at this point in my life I was getting caned a lot. I was travelling with my Master who caned me most days if I’m being frank. He, however is right handed, and that first left-handed stroke from Miss Brown really took my breath away. I had perhaps been a little coy up until that point, about my situation. I was also happy that we were actually doing this for real — I have been in many BDSM sessions before as a bottom where the Dom either goes ridiculously light on me, or tries to fake this or that for my benefit. As a lifestyle submissive with a genuine admiration for Dominant people (the scarier the better!), I always want the real deal. [I am also low volume which means I have time to heal between sessions so these previous Dommes like to look after me as a matter of longevity and not at all trying to rip anyone off].

The first twelve strokes I was made to count aloud, and they fell hard and at a medium pace. I was truly being punished and it was very hard to take. Each number I counted through a labyrinth of my own breath, needing to stay perfectly still; quantify the pain yet not focus on it entirely; funnel oxygen through me to sustain the numbers I needed to confirm the next stroke was coming soon. I had hoped the tears would come, as I know from experience that once I relinquish control and give myself over to the punishment, my endorphins kick in and I am able to enjoy even a very severe caning. I did not cry, but I did shake. The final 12 were executed with trade-mark perfection. I was given the signal to stand and permission to rub my very sore bottom which signalled the end of the session, and the beginning of the more jovial, debrief and aftercare.

I was so thrilled with this experience that I became a personal client of Miss B, bottoming to her and my then Master often; the two creating my ultimate fantasy of tandem caning (ie alternating left and right handed strokes from either side). As I have come to know Miss Brown well over these years I realise that her excellence, for me at least, stems from the warm conviction in her voice, her unrelenting and staunch beauty and, of course, in the brutal uniformity of her stroke.