A Visit to Femke Vandedijk – a True Story

 

I am indebted to my friend Robert for his account of a visit to Dutch disciplinarian Femke Vandedijk. I hope you enjoy it!

As promised I am forwarding my notes of my visit to Miss Vandedijk, which I wrote not long after meeting her in February 2012. I think Miss Vandedijk has now retired from the scene but she was a disciplinarian based in Holland and, having sessioned with many British disciplinarians over the years, I thought I would visit her as I had business nearby and her web-site struck a chord with me in that it offered a sense of discipline that I felt was rooted in the fifties, an era akin to my own as a child

You can imagine my surprise that on contacting her she advised me that she offered an overnight session for out-of-towners visiting Holland, with discipline sessions just before retiring for the night and first-thing in the morning. This was music to my ears because my childhood punishment experiences always took place at bedtime, irrespective of the time when the infraction had taken place. A chance to recreate such long-held memories was really exciting and I leapt at the opportunity.

As I flew over to Amsterdam, the foolhardiness of my trip started to dawn on me. What if she wasn’t quite what she represented herself to be, my mind run riot with all the possibilities including that infamous episode of “Tales of the Unexpected”, but somehow these concerns only heightened my sense of anticipation and excitement!

We had agreed to meet outside the bookshop at the railway station in the Hague at 8.40pm . It was a bitterly cold night in February and, as I was early, I went into the adjoining bookshop only exiting a few minutes after 8.30pm. To my surprise she was already waiting for me.  There were no niceties and no small-talk as she asked me why I wasn’t waiting as instructed outside; my excuse that I hadn’t expected her that early was clearly not satisfactory and I was also asked if it was polite to be chewing gum, as I was. Her response was that she would deal with me when we arrived at her home.

In fact these exchanges were exactly what I was after – she, in a minute, took me back to my childhood and my rather austere and capricious mother whose mood could never actually be pre-judged and who would get upset over the simplest matter. We started to walk and, as I was taller than her with lengthier strides, I unconsciously started to walk slightly ahead of her by a foot or two. I was sharply reprimanded for this impertinence and told to fall back behind her. Unfortunately, some 500m further on it happened again, again quite unconsciously. This time she stopped in the street and ordered me back to her. She looked at me intently and then without saying anything further slapped me once, hard, on the face. This had never happened before in my life and I was somewhat shocked but as we began to walk again in silence, I somehow felt very much as I wanted to recreate – the feeling of subservience to an austere and severe mother-figure who would stand for no nonsense and deal with me appropriately.

We arrived at her flat with me careful not to repeat the same mistake and to ensure all doors had been opened for her! As I closed the front door behind us, I was ordered to follow her into the guest bedroom and to immediately change into my pyjamas and then join her in the lounge when I was ready.

I did as instructed and found her waiting. She had taken her coat off and looked formidable in a black dress with a hairbrush in her hand. Immediately I was told to stand by her. As I did so, she reached and pulled the draw-string of my pyjama bottoms which then fell to the ground. Without a further word she very purposively rolled up by pyjama jacket so that it was well above my waist and then sat down on a stool and guided me over her knee. What took place was one of the hardest thrashings I have, until then, ever experienced. Her anger came out as she remonstrated – how dare I keep her waiting, how dare I chew gum, how dare I walk in-front of her.

At last she stopped – it must have lasted half an hour; I was ordered up and then led, still without my pyjama bottoms to my bedroom and told to wait there facing the bed holding my pyjama top up. This must have been for sometime because when she returned I had inadvertently let my pyjama top slip down. Big mistake! She became very angry again “Have I not learnt my lesson yet to do what I am told” On the wall above the bed hung a long strap, she ordered me to get it and hand it to her and then turned and sat on the side of the bed, ordered me over her knee again. If I thought the previous thrashing had been severe, it was nothing compared to this one though it is fair to say that the first thrashing had conditioned me to accept this one better. Throughout I was admonished, she was absolutely brilliant!! Eventually she tired and I was ordered to stand up and return with her to the lounge where I was allowed to put my pyjama trousers back on.

We sat and chatted for sometime as if nothing had happened but it was during this period that I became a bit uneasy. She told me that she had come into this fetish as a sub, as so many dommes do, but now only dommed.

And then her mood changed. She stood up and ordered me back to my bedroom and to prepare for bed. The bathroom was off the hall and I showered, the sink was in the bedroom itself and she came back in as I started to brush my teeth. She became very angry again as she felt I didn’t take long enough to brush them and my face was again slapped and I was ordered to resume. She said that she would thrash me again but she felt too tired – I was quite disappointed by this but she gave me every impression she would deal with this infraction in the morning! I was told to stay in my room until then (believe me I had no intention of going anywhere else) and she left.

I slept fitfully with “one eye open”, I did not know when she was going to return. Luckily the corridor had a wood covering and her entrance as on previous occasions could be heard by the click-clack of steps from far away (quite exciting in its way). During the night I had crept out to the adjoining toilet but no further but was awake when she decided to return in the morning. As she entered the room she saw I was awake and ordered me to turn over and lie on my stomach. She then drew the bedclothes off the bed and pulled down my pyjama bottoms. She had brought with her a cane and a strap and proceeded to cane me ferociously for not having brushed my teeth properly. She stopped and I thought she had finished but the next minute she had climbed onto the bed and sat astride me on my back and using the strap started to wallop me. It was excruciatingly painful and as I tried to move she stopped me by pressing down. Eventually the thrashing stopped and she climbed down. She then sat at the top of the bed and lifted my head onto her lap. She stroked my hair and comforted me for some time. It was a complete change of mood; eventually I was ordered to dress and join her for breakfast. Never once during my stay or at breakfast did she seem to relax however and I, in turn, remained wary. We finished our meal and she escorted me to her front door. We shook hands and I left!

Had I enjoyed the experience? You bet! Her volatility, severity, austere manner and eventual softness were all reminders of my childhood. The beatings had been harsh, probably too harsh for my liking but nevertheless, never previously experienced in their intensity. Not knowing what to expect is always exciting and I experienced plenty of that. Would I have gone back if the opportunity has arisen- definitely!!

Well I hope you enjoyed the story. It is an accurate report of what actually happened!

Robert