English Discipline Class Session

I had the privilege of leading an English Discipline “class” session at a Domina club I’m a member of the other night. It was a wonderful experience, and I thought I’d share it here to give an idea of how to dominate groups.

Preparation was simple. I tossed a few “schoolish” items into my bag and dressed in a long black, ankle-length gown. I was going to be a Governess for the night—not just any teacher, but an English Governess with a disciplinarian edge straight out of the 1800s. Governesses were central to the development of Femdom, especially during the fin de siècle period when a flood of erotic novels, disguised as “diaries,” featured strict boarding schools and stern Governesses. It obviously comes from upper-class gentlemen fantasising about their Governesses and school days in the mid-1800s. Back then, canings and intellectual humiliation were popular, and the Governess was one of the rare social roles that gave women authority outside of marriage. In many ways, she was a prototype lifestyle Mistress who evolved into the Disciplinarian we know today.

I’ve researched plenty of Governess eroticas, but I’ve also lived my own school discipline version. I went to school in the ’70s, when a lot of the old discipline culture still lingered, modelled on the British systems of the early 1900s. Every day, I got “the ruler.” And I’m quite sure it was called “the ruler” not just because it was a one-metre stick used to draw straight lines on the chalkboard, but because it ruled our hands and asses. We’d line up every morning for our daily routine ruling—not because we’d done anything wrong, but because we were likely to. It was a ruling for “good measure.”

Whether I had spoken out of turn, fidgeted while we were supposed to sit still, or forgotten it was “silent time” and asked the kid next to me to “pass the rubber” (and no, for the Americans reading this, a rubber wasn’t a condom, but an eraser)—it was the ruler for me—the palm of my weakest hand was demanded and the teacher would strike. If we were actually naughty, we’d be sent to the principal’s office for six strokes of the cane across our asses. That was the going rate. So, for this session, I really did have Discipline in the palm of my hand.

When the session began, three men stood in front of me. Submissive men. (And when I say “submissive men” don’t think of short and skinny meek men with no confidence. These men were burly, two of them quite tall, the other quite fit—later he was literally planking over his Domina for a spanking. So… these boys were more like rugby players than maths club. They are submissive men because they adore Dominant women. They submit out of respect and devotion.

Now, I talk about this a lot and it is controversial but true to life… Because I am Dominant, and the men I engage with are submissive, there is already a power imbalance built in before a session starts. They were stripped to their underwear—as CFNM protocol of the club—I was fully clothed, cane in hand, and their Dominas were seated on the sofa watching on. There was no negotiation. No bargaining or asking from the submissives to get what they wanted. I had Absolute power and authority. I didn’t need to make it so because it was already a given in the club. The whole session would unfold according to My design—My dynamic development, activities, intensities, and atmosphere.

I had already seen a client earlier that day which got out a lot of my drive for pain, so I wasn’t looking for intensity or cruelty for this session. I wanted something lighter, more emotionally playful, even warm. There are three ways to run a school-boy discipline session with a group: make them compete, make them unite as a team, or divide one or two to be bullied by the others (though, this is an edge play tactic, and I’d advise to only do this when people are well informed and can emotionally regulate). This night I wanted camaraderie, a sense of community, and a positive atmosphere—not bullying. And as an Absolute Domina, this was Mine to decide.

Just a note: I use Epistemic Asymmetry in my Domination. It is actually a foundational technique of Female Domination, though I have never really seen this discussed or explained anywhere in the scene. It is the withholding, delaying and denial of knowledge. This is actually one of the pillars of Female Domination throughout the ages—something I have been studying as a marker for Femdom Literature the past year through texts over the last 400 years. But, controversially, such does not support egalitarian models of Femdom because… such models require everything to be laid out on the table to be negotiated and agreed upon. It steals the effects of domination. But, you will also notice that in this session I am training and teaching, revealing the “why’s,” and that is specifically because of the context—a school class.

Safety First — Always

The first order of business was safety. Now, I know this club well. Everyone who plays there is pre-instructed on the standard safety rules—the traffic light system, thresholds, and all the basics. They don’t even get through the door without knowing them. So I didn’t waste time on what they already knew. Instead, I focused on body safety.

I asked the men about their knees and ankles (because kneeling or holding positions can strain joints if you don’t know their limits). I asked about injuries. I asked about marks—because I was planning to strike palms, asses and backs. We needed to talk about whether bruises might cause issues. Do they have a physio appointment tomorrow? Are they planning to spend the weekend on a nude beach? Do they have community showers at work? No one wants to explain an oddly ruler-shaped bruise to their boss.

Though, I hadn’t planned to go extreme anyway. My design wasn’t for a heavy pain session. I wanted to focus on psychological discipline—rules, gradings, emotional punishments, and behavioural shaping. So the cane was going to be a symbol, not a sadist’s binge.

Humiliation and Philosophy

Next, I addressed humiliation. I made it clear I value them as men. I wasn’t going to infantilise them or make them play little boys. I told them straight: I don’t like age play, I don’t sexualise “boys,” and I wasn’t there to degrade them into worthlessness. They appreciated hearing this.

Instead, I explained the difference between embarrassment, humiliation, and degradation. Embarrassment is mild—it makes you blush, and even laugh at yourself. Humiliation it stronger—it affects the ego. Degradation strips away worth. I insisted that the last one was not on the menu for the night. I told them there would be some light humiliation and objectification, but not degradation.

I love fear in my subs—I feed off it—but this was not the kind of night where I wanted them trembling. I wanted eagerness, the drive to please Me, not fear of punishment. Those two create entirely different dynamics and atmospheres. One shrinks a man; the other makes him shine. And shine was the mood of the night.

Also, I didn’t know all the men in attendance this night. Two I was meeting for the first time. You don’t push strangers beyond capacity. So I calibrated the session to the least experienced, while still giving enough challenge for the seasoned player. And with their Dominas watching? I wanted their Dominas to enjoy seeing their subs under my Governess command.

It’s All in the Name

To help set the scene, I told the submissives to call Me Governess. Why? Because the Governess was the original lifestyle Mistress. She was usually an upper-class woman who, having “family problems”, took employment in private upperclass households — often manners and mansions — to educate children. But her role was not only academic. Governesses were primarily tasked with instilling social graces, etiquette, and moral discipline, shaping boys and girls into little ladies and gentlemen. Usually when boys turned twelve, they typically left for boarding school where male masters would take over their “serious” education, but until then, the Governess ruled the nursery and the parlour. Fun fact: Governesses often caused tension in the household because they were frequently more educated and refined than the lady of the house. Mothers and Governesses clashed so notoriously that entire manuals were written advising Governesses on how to maintain harmony with the mother of the home. So, I became a Governess to My boys — setting rules, manners, and lessons that carried authority inside the domestic sphere.

It is also worth mentioning that at the time the term “Mistress” was used for a woman of means — a trader, a business owner, or a figure who governed her affairs like a man (Ann Lister, for example). And in more controversial histories, particularly in America, “Mistress” was a term for women who owned enslaved servants. While most women were denied property rights, they were permitted to own “human chattel”, and many leveraged that ownership into forms of wealth and authority otherwise unavailable to them. Thus both Governess and Mistress were titles of women who ruled — one through pedagogy and refinement within the home, the other through commerce, property, or slavery. Now you can see these two different Femdom lineages emerging – Professional and Domestic/Lifestyle – from which our language and disciplines of female domination later developed.

Threshold Testing

I had the boys kneel on mats for a pain threshold test. We needed to agree on the level of pain for the night. I suggested mid-range. Too high, and they’d slip into their bodies and instincts, shutting off their brains. Too low, and they’d barely engage. Mid-range meant they’d have to think their way through discipline rather than simply grit their teeth.

So I struck each palm once, and each man gave me a number from one to ten of the pain they felt. Conveniently, they were all around the same mark. That meant I didn’t have to constantly juggle different thresholds for each person—no need to carry three separate pain maps in my head. Believe me, in group sessions, that mental labour is real. You don’t want to accidentally deliver a high-end strike to someone with a low-end threshold just because you’re keeping up a rhythm. Keeping mental record of such by the Domina takes superhuman attention, especially when she is also coordinating the narrative, the atmosphere, the dynamics, the tensions, the safety, etc, for a group of people. So yes, having them all levelled out? A gift to me.

Initiation

With group play, I always like to begin with an initiation ritual. It signals that the session has begun. It tells everyone that the ordinary world has ended, the rules of My world now apply.

I had the men sit cross-legged on the floor, hands on knees, in that classic “schoolboy” style. I told them it was to preempt any idea in them to fidget, grab or touch each other like schoolboys would (though the image of three half-naked men wrestling on a rug is funny). No—it was narrative. By fixing their hands visible on their knees, I told them that rules exist to keep them from being naughty. I was already disciplining them before they misbehaved. Such is powerful because it sets the mood that I know them, I anticipate them, I hold the authority to control not just what they do, but what they might do.

It’s a neat trick, really—like building a backstory. The men could access their own memories of school discipline, feel the echo of childhood rules, and let that influence their obedience. It gives a schooling session the texture of realness.

The School Pledge

Next came the pledge. I modelled it after my own primary school assembly pledge—back when we had to recite it as a chorus in unison, line after line, week after week. So I stood there, cane in hand, and had them repeat after me.

This worked beautifully for three reasons. First, English wasn’t their first language, so pronunciation was adorably clumsy. Second, parroting tests listening skills—they had to really tune in to catch each word. Third, it forced them to coordinate as a group. Sitting side by side, they couldn’t cheat by reading facial cues or matching breath. They had to become a chorus without rehearsal.

Naturally, they failed. Several times. And with each failure I made them start over from the top. You could see their focus sharpening with each attempt, the weight of discipline pressing down, until finally, they managed it. With the pledge complete, their initiation was sealed.

Simon Says

Then came a round of Simon Says. Classic, but it never fails. When they missed a call, I struck across the top of their backs. Simple, effective, and funny—because “eyes” and “ears” tripped them up every time. (Remember, the Spanish are listening to an Aussie accent…haha!)

The best moment was with the advanced pupil. He hadn’t made a mistake, yet I told him I was going to cane him anyway. His eyes widened.

“Why am I punishing you?” I asked, giving him time to think. I could see him digging back through memories of previous sessions with me. Finally, his face lit up.

“Because you want to, Governess.”

Exactly. He got a “good boy” for being so clever. The cane landed, not because of fault, but because of will. This is discipline distilled—not crime-and-punishment, but the Domina’s prerogative and pleasure.

Quick-Draw Round

To raise the stakes, I made the game a competition between the boys. Ten lightning-fast commands. Their Dominas counted mistakes, the men counted too. If the boy’s numbers didn’t match their Domina’s at the end, they’d be punished even more.

Watching them scramble, eyes darting, hands fumbling was rather amusing. The grades came after: A to E. A was Ace, top of the class. D was for dunce. E meant failure—dismissal from school. That threat alone made them stiffen in their seats. By the end of this round, the boys had earned two D’s and a C. Not exactly a stellar class, but the point was not perfection—yet. They were in My school now, and every mark, every grade, was a measure of how far they’d go to please.

Philosophy Class: The Three Wise Monkeys

After their shaky start with grades, I herded the boys onto a bench seat in front of their Dominas. Time for philosophy.

I showed them a picture of the Three Wise Monkeys. Then I gave them a count of three to replicate it: hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil.

The comedy was immediate. Hands went over the wrong holes—ears covered when mouths should’ve been, eyes poked through instead of hidden. Trying to get three half-naked men to synchronise their monkeying while their Dominas laughed in front of them… Priceless. Finally, after several failed rounds, they managed it, and I christened them monkey 1, monkey 2, and monkey 3 for the rest of the night.

Strategy Lesson: Rock, Paper, Scissors

Next, strategy. The assignment was simple: play Rock Paper, Scissors. The loser would get five cane strokes on the ass.

You’d think it would be straightforward. But no. Out of ten plays, nearly eight ended in complete draws – one rock, one paper, one scissors. Each man picked a different element each time cancelling out any win. It was hilarious and completely unbelievable—but it still happened. The odds were with them. The harder they tried not to draw – so they could win – the more they did. Surreal serendipity—like a loop where nobody could outsmart the others.

Finally, two of them lost enough rounds to earn their punishments. Their Dominas gleefully caned them against the wall while the third monkey sat in front of Me for a different lesson: gentlemanship.

Standing for Women

I explained the old rule: to stand when a woman enters, and stand again when she exits. It’s simple courtesy, but it’s also training in sensory obedience.

Men don’t usually sense a room the way women do. Women feel atmosphere; they notice who’s left out, who’s moving, and who’s tense. Men, in contrast, often don’t notice anything they can’t see. Standing when a woman enters is not just about manners—it forces men to heighten awareness, to sense movement, and to be tuned in to presence.

Actually, a simple exercise like this helps men to access their feminine. This is not about making a man girlie but enabling him to connect with what is called “soft skills”—feminine traits. These are non-technical abilities of interaction with others, such as communication, teamwork, problem-solving, adaptability, and emotional intelligence. And this too is discipline. Not pain, but awareness. Submission is as much about noticing as it is about obeying.

Soft Skills and Feminisation

When the canings ended, I shifted the lesson. The third pupil, who had just been instructed by me, was told to teach the other two what he’d learned. This was deliberate—peer teaching sharpens memory and reinforces hierarchy in subtle ways. From there, I moved the discussion into “soft skills.” Naturally, this led to the subject of feminisation. And… feminisation isn’t just about dressing up in women’s clothing…

The group already knew one of my preferences. I like My men to come to me wrapped in something pretty. I cannot overstate my disdain for “ugly man pants” — boxers. They are not erotic, they are not thoughtful, and they are certainly not submissive. For the newer boys, the Dominas and I explained why such a small gesture as arriving in panties is, in truth, a very big deal. It is not about the panties alone, but about mindset. Feminine garments help a submissive access a different part of himself. His sensitivity, his receptivity, his capacity for aesthetic and emotional detail.

When a woman is going to see her lover, she often begins preparing days in advance. She chooses her lingerie carefully, makes sure her stockings have no snags and if they do, she goes out shopping for some more, she schedules her waxing for just the right timing so the skin heals smooth before getting prickly, she has her nails done, and then on the day she can spends hours on hair and makeup. By the time she steps out the door, her entire body and mind have been calibrated toward the encounter. That is the kind of preparation that makes intimacy more meaningful.

I expect my submissives to learn something of this discipline. Their grooming, their “man-sculpting,” their underwear choices—whether delicate lingerie or carefully chosen briefs—should all be deliberate. And then there is the act of travelling across town, lingerie hidden beneath ordinary clothes, a secret in public they carry with them. That quiet thrill, that heightened awareness of being prepared for Me, awakens their senses before they arrive.

But this is not just about aesthetics. In a power dynamic, these gestures are transformative. They tune the submissive to My desires, and prime him physically, emotionally, and psychologically to go deeper into surrender. A pair of panties may just look “pretty”, but worn with intention, they become a tool for will alignment, protocol and ritual, and obedience.

Recess Break

I dismissed the subs for a break and for them to prepare refreshments. We all had a lovely “recess.” The mood was light and buzzing. The submissives were excited to talk about the scenes that had already happened, what they internally experienced, how it affected their mind. It was very heartening for Me to know.

Then I decided to test their new gentlemanship training. I stood up across the coffee table. The Dominas saw me immediately but stayed quiet, amused, and waiting to see what their boys would do. The monkeys felt nothing of My standing presence.

The men just kept talking. Not one of them noticed I was standing. The Dominas smirked as the seconds ticked by. Finally, one sub caught on and stood, which jolted the others up as well. Too late. They lost a grade for failing their lesson, and it earnt them a canning to their palms.

Toilet Duty

Next, I sent the boys off together to the bathroom. They had strict instructions to use the toilet, wash their hands, no talking, and “no water fights!” They were only allowed to return if they did it together.

Before they left, I made each hold out a palm for another cane strike. They looked puzzled. What had they done wrong this time? I told them this punishment was not for anything they did in the past, but for what they would inevitably do wrong while out of My sight.

That idea delighted their Dominas. It’s an old-school tactic to punishment “for good measure.” Pre-emptive discipline. Paying forward for their naughtiness.

A Law of Domination

Now, here’s the thing. English Boomer parents always used “because I said so” as a reason to obey them. It reinforced authority, however, it did not instil respect. Instead, not only did it demonstrate that the child wasn’t worth their time to teach, it also fostered disobedience because without the “why factor,” the one being disciplined is left to make their own meaning from it… and that meaning could very well go against authority. Thus, in Domination, “Because I said so” is good enough for blind obedience, but it isn’t enough for true surrender. Real submission isn’t just about doing as told, but about aligning desire with the Domina’s will. That requires knowledge.

When I explain why I design a command or rule a certain way, I give my submissives something to marvel at—My brilliance and intelligence, of course haha! but more importantly…—my purpose. That builds devotion, not just compliance. And devotion deepens obedience.

So yes, I can command blindly—if it is my design to objectify and degrade—but I prefer to instruct with reasoning when training. That way, a submissive doesn’t just obey through his body, but he surrenders with his mind. Then, his obedience becomes accountable, and his surrender becomes devotional.

So, this “law of domination” isn’t “because I said so,” it is “because they know so.”

Piggy in the Middle

When the boys came back from their bathroom break, I lined them up in their monkey row in the middle of the room. I checked their ankles, thoroughly—I wanted to increase their wonder and excitement in what was going to happen next. I chose the skinniest ones for wrist cuffs, and handed ankle cuffs to another. The third boy had a back operation in the past, so I spared him, partly for his safety, and partly to give him an advantage.

The two cuffed boys each got a spreader bar clipped on. They widened their stance, adjusting to the awkwardness. I taught them how to position their feet for greater balance, and to keep their knees softened so they don’t cause stress on their joints. Then I produced a small, soft ball and announced the game: Piggy in the Middle.

They had a time limit, and whoever ended up in the middle when it expired would be punished. Simple enough — but thoroughly entertaining. Imagine three nearly naked men, two strapped in spreader bars, hopping around to keep a ball away from each other while their Dominas look on with amusement.

The best part? They played with total heart. No sulking, no hesitation. Just full-throttle commitment. Many men would have felt ridiculous in that position — underwear, restraints, and squeals of laughter echoing around them, while they chased after a little ball. But these three gave themselves to it with grace, even joy. It was beautiful to watch.

The Naughty Corner

When the time ran out, one poor soul was left in the middle. His punishment: the naughty corner. I sat him on the naughty chair facing the wall to be by himself and “think on his failure”. The rest? They had my full attention.

I asked about their Spanish childhood school games and I was throughly entertained to learn of some new ones—especially about a crazy “human centipede” game where the kids all bent over holding onto each other in a straight line, and challenger had to dive over them to get to the person standing at the end. (I must get the name of it!)

I asked about the monkey’s secrets and nudged the conversation into intimate storytelling; all the while I knew the boy in the corner could hear everything. I watched his reflection in the mirror as he sat on his own away from the rest of us. This boy was a talker… and being excluded, I knew would pain him. Exclusion is its own sting. After a little while, I asked the naughty boy in the corner if he felt sorry for being such a loser. He said yes. I asked if he was ready to join us again. He said yes. Only then was he allowed back. I invited him to rejoin the group, and he gladly did.

It was a perfect little lesson in humility.

Nurturing Creativity

Then came one of my favourite parts of any discipline session: the creative project. I’ve long believed you can tell a great deal about a man by the way he approaches creativity. A few years ago, I designed a little stiletto-themed colouring book specifically for submissives. An indulgence, perhaps, but one that has proved endlessly useful. For this task, each boy was instructed to select a stiletto design he liked best and colour it in. Simple, yet revealing. Their work would be judged on two criteria: their choice of shoe and the skill of their colouring. Another Domina, drafted in as the “Art Teacher,” would preside as judge.

This became our “quiet time” activity. Each boy was instructed to find a space of his own around the room, set to work, and for ten whole minutes there would be silence. Meanwhile, we Domina lounged back, chatting among ourselves about the boys. But honestly, I don’t think the boys even heard us. They were completely engrossed by their task with surprising earnestness. It was delightful to watch—grown men utterly focused on choosing shades and filling outlines, not just performing for us but visibly enjoying the act itself. When the time was up, they were called back to present their masterpieces. I insisted they sign their work (one day the whole colouring book will be filled with pages completed by submissives I’ve trained — I think long term like that). Each art piece was displayed, judged, with their grades adjusted accordingly.