Welcome to Woody World

Volume 4 of the Saga Now Available for FREE Download

As promised we are pleased to announce the launch of yet another FREE installment from the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 4 – The Inmates Strike Back’.

The teaser insert is a panel ripped from the brand new Woody Toon scheduled for release over the weekend. It features poor old Debs Morton suffering the ignominy of being publicly red-carded on the annual Family Visitation Day. Followers of the Woody Back to School Unit saga will have become accustomed to the mercurial Debs finding herself up to her bumbags in hot water. However as a result of this latest episode of reckless misbehavior Deborah faces her greatest challenge yet.

Deborah’s relationship with the Grand Dame, Ms Lawton, was already in a dangerous downward spiral. Earlier in the year she had been branded as the units ‘Public Enemy Number One’ and the Brass and Elite were instructed to target her bumbags with extreme prejudice. When Deborah is evicted from the chapel Ms Lawton finally reaches the end of her tether with her bête noir and invokes her ultimate sanction. She informs Deborah that she is being ‘Formally Flunked for Discipline’ and will be required to appear in front of a special hearing before the Dark Agents of the System.

Download the new volume and kick-back and discover the fate of the hapless Deborah’s bumbags … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

The Inmates Strike Back

It is going to be a busy week at the unit. On Wednesday we are scheduled to launch yet another FREE volume from the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 4 – The Inmates Strike Back’.

In Volume 4 the thrills and spills at the unit continue to prevail as the anarchic inmates pursue their chosen life-style of Mega-minxdom. The sounds of canes, straps, slippers and a variety of kitchen utensils rebounding off tautened navy blue gossamer bumbags resound along the corridors of the social rehabilitation facility.

The mercurial Debs Morton continues her dizzying descent into disgrace when she is ignominiously red-carded out of the Woody chapel on Family Visitation Day. As a result she is ‘Formally Flunked for Discipline’ and sentenced to face a hearing before the Dark Agents of the System to determine her future. Will Deborah’s hopes of returning to the professional tennis circuit be scuppered due to a momentary lapse into reckless compulsive, impulsive behavior? You’ll just have to wait until Wednesday to find out.

However, not everything is doom and gloom for the whop-weary mega-minxes. In a remarkable episode Ms Lawton, the Grand Dame of the unit, offers the inmates the opportunity to play havoc with the bumbags of the infamous Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers. In an uproarious episode of vengeance the beleaguered inmates get their chance to reap their revenge on the bumbags of Yvonne ‘the Ice Maiden’ Godfrey, Janet ‘Mitch the Bitch’ Mitchell, and Jackie ‘Ivan the Terrible’ Ivanhoe, (My Beloved Jojo particularly likes this episode).

Also coming up at the unit is one of our most exciting undertakings yet. I have drafted briefings for a three-part Woody Toon featuring the trials and tribulations of poor old Debs Morton as she faces her greatest challenge to date. For those of you who have downloaded the full books I think that you will appreciate how difficult it is to take complex story-lines and convert them into coherent four panel toons. Working with Dave Ell has been a very fulfilling experience and we have now produced almost forty toons. I believe that each week they get better and better as we work together. Bearing in mind that I am in Texas and he is languishing on the beaches of Phuket, with a twelve hour time difference, the collaboration is an example of the amazing powers of today’s communications technology.

So we have plenty of work to do. In the meantime, if you haven’t already, why don’t you download the first three Free books … kick back and enjoy a mimosa or a Bloody Mary … it’s Sunday and what better way to idle it away than in the company of Jojo, Debs, Nixdown and Rosemary? … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Woody Legend – A Flogging for Spanker Spage

My Beloved Jojo likes nothing better than when my stories or the toon’s feature the bad gal’s getting their just desserts. This brand new, original toon is based on an episode from ‘Volume 3 – A Year of Sitting Painfully’, which is now available for download absolutely free to our guests.

For those of you who do not have the time to download the complete book shorter extracts featuring Spanker Spage are available by clicking on ‘A Flogging for Spanker Spage’ and the ‘Sacking of Spanker Spage.’

Juliet ‘Spanker’ Spage is definitely one of the bad gals. In the last year of her sentence at the Woody Back to School Unit she becomes a member of the Elite. She is given the task of acting as the ‘Senior Brat Draper’.

‘Little Brats’ is the colloquial name given, by the Woody Wags, to the twelve young women who have just arrived at the facility to start their seven-year programs of Social Rehabilitation. In an effort to curb the rambunctious tendencies that had attracted the attention of the Dark Agents of the System, and to teach them a lesson in humility they are assigned to act as a ‘grubby’ for a member of the Elite.

I first came across the delicious concept of ‘grubbing’ in a delightful memoir written by a quite well-known British actress. In the early chapters of her book she recalled her days at a prestigious British boarding school including a comment describing an occasion she had got into trouble … “The House Captain gave me six with the twig and then sent me out to grub around in the gardens.” She later comments that, during her first year at the school, … “we were treated as nothing better than lowly grubby’s.”

At Woodys it is the job of the Elite members to mentor their grubby’s in the many rules, regulations and protocols that dictate the daily lives of the inmates. They are given full rights to drape their personal grubbys over their knees and give their bumbags a damn good dusting if they are not shaping up. In return for these mentoring services the Little Brat’s are required to be on call twenty-four-seven to clean the Elite members studies, run errands and generally act as serfs.

The Senior Brat Draper is given additional powers and has full spanking rights over the complete Brat-colony and can drape them at any-time she feels that they are not keeping up with their mentoring programs. It is a system wide open for abuse.

Juliet Spage is an odious bully and a fully paid up member of the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers. She is soon draping Brats at a record-breaking pace and she is generally referred to simply as ‘Spanker’.

A serial spanker of Juliet’s caliber soon becomes dissatisfied with merely dishing out hand-spankings. She confers with her evil handler from the Radical Right, Miss Katie Beck. Katie generously donates one of her infamous leather-soled slippers and encourages Juliet to go on a spanking spree. To avoid discovery of her illicit activities she often takes her prey to private areas of the vast Woody compound where she can illegally yank down their bumbags and warm their rear ends with her borrowed slippers.

In this wonderful new toon Spanker is caught red-handed and like many bullies it turns out that she is really a complete muff. I am particularly pleased with this toon as it is quite a complex story to illustrate in just four panels accompanied byvery few words, but once again, my collaborator, the brilliant artist, Dave Ell has risen to the occasion … so as usual … kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

Just the usual polite reminder that Woodettes Publications purchased these illustrations along with the copyright. I have no objection to other sites using them as long as they are accompanied by appropriate acknowledgment to the source.

Wild New Woody Toon – A Painful Journey

This toon is ripped from yesterdays launch of the FREE third volume of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘A Year of Sitting Painfully’.

For those of you that haven’t read the books here’s a little background to the toon. Debs Morton has secured a pass to play in a prestigious pro-am tennis tournament. Her coach, Jane Lummell (wearing the riding apparel) is indisposed and unable to act as her Court Appointed Guardian while she is away from the facility. Deborah’s Ma agrees to act as her escort.

Sadly, during the austere days of Operation Scorched Arse, Debs has been ranked as Public Enemy Number One and her bumbags have been targeted with extreme prejudice.

Spotting Debs preparing to leave for her tennis tournament the evil Commandant of the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers, Yvonne Godfrey, sees a unique opportunity and shows Deborah a red card for no particular reason.

Debs is faced with a painful dilemma, although she might have legitimate reason for making an appeal the process is lengthy and her delay will doubtless excite the curiosity of Ma … I think the rest of the story speaks for itself.

Once again my admiration for Dave Ell’s interpretation of my briefing … so as usual … kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

Just the usual polite reminder that Woodettes Publications purchased these illustrations along with the copyright. I have no objection to other sites using them as long as they are accompanied by appropriate acknowledgment to the source.

A Year of Sitting Painfully – Brand Spanking New Free Woody Book

We are pleased to announce the launch of ‘Volume 3 – A Year of Sitting Painfully’, absolutely FREE, for our guest’s entertainment. I am in the process of commissioning two new companion Woody toons from Our Man in Phuket, Dave Ell, so check back towards the end of the week for some fine spanking humor … Unfortunately business commitments are beckoning so until we meet again why don’t you kick-back and enjoy the book … Bottoms Up! … RH

The Spanking Art Wiki – A Gift to the Community

I have occasionally mentioned the fantastic Wiki put together by Spankart, ‘The Spanking Art Wiki’. This is a truly awesome work of labor and love. It is also a community project. The Wiki operates just like Wikipedia, and can be updated and edited by the public (that would be … you). Spankart’s wiki does not limit itself to just show-casing artwork it also features lists of authors, one of the most comprehensive blog-rolls available on the net, and numerous articles on the Fine Art of Spanking. You can set up your own page and contribute articles if you feel so inclined. I would strongly encourage everyone to take a detour over to the site and have a good rummage about … if you like what you see feel free to contribute. This is our own specialized Wiki for our own very special community. Great work and a big hand for Spankart!

This weekend has been particularly successful for the unit and we hosted an enormous amount of guests. There is no question that this peak in readership is due to the fact that Chross was kind enough to include us in his round-up of ‘Spankings of the Week’. Over the past nine months the Woody Back to School Unit has achieved a respectable and quite stable readership, most days the number of visitors is within plus or minus five per cent of our daily average. However, on the occasions that Chross selects one of our posts for inclusion in his lists the number of hits increases dramatically. Even when the initial weekend peak dies down the residual effect is generally a significant increase in steady-state daily readership. We all blog for different reasons but ultimately, I should imagine, we are pleased to see that guests from all over the globe are taking time-out in their busy daily schedules to come and take a squint at our offerings. So once again a huge thanks to Chross for being generous enough to include us in this week’s round-up.

Chross was the recipient of a 2009 Woody Back to School Unit ‘Five Red Bums Award’ for exceptional community services to the spanking community.

On Wednesday next week we are planning on launching ‘Volume 3 – A Year of Sitting Painfully’, absolutely FREE for download … I am in the process of writing two more cartoon briefings so Our Man in Phuket, Dave Ell, can get them ready for next weekend … until then work will probably interfere with much blogging activity … so it’s Sunday, the sun is over the yardarm somewhere so … pour a mimosa or Bloody Mary and kick-back … have a rummage about and if you like what you see please keep on dropping by … your visits are greatly appreciated … Bottoms Up! … RH

Stunning New Woody Toon – A Lunchtime Licking

Today’s brand new toon is loosely based on an episode from Volume 2 – Operation Scorched Arse. The evil creature causing mischief and mayhem in Rosemary Booker’s bumbags is the Commandant of the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers, Miss Yvonne Godfrey.

The Secret Sorority, known to the Woody Wags as the SS, are covert agents of the dastardly Dames from the Radical Right of the Brass, Patricia Hodge, The Wart, and Katie Beck. Over the coming weeks as we launch more FREE full-length books you will learn of the heinous activities of such arch-villainesses as Yvonne ‘the Ice Maiden’ Godfrey, Janet ‘Mitch the Bitch’ Mitchell, Juliet ‘Spanker’ Spage, Jackie ‘Ivan the Terrible’ Ivanhoe, and Jayne ‘Undies’ Underley as they conspire to make life uncomfortable for the inmates at the unit. So hold on to your bumbags and keep checking back for new editions of the Woody Back to School Unit saga as they are released.

Once again my compliments to Dave Ell for adding new graphic perspectives to translating my stories into brief illustrations … some brilliant facials in this one and panel three is a pretty inventive view of the world (I guess that depends on which end of the cane you are) … so well done again Mr Ell … so enjoy the cartoons … download the books … kick-back and have a great start to the weekend … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

Just the usual polite reminder that Woodettes Publications purchased these illustrations along with the copyright. I have no objection to other sites using them as long as they are accompanied by appropriate acknowledgment to the source.

Sizzling New Woody Toon – Operation Scorched Arse

This is one of the companion cartoon piece’s to the full-length version of Volume 2 – Operation Scorched Arse which we launched this week. I think you will all agree that Our Man in Phuket, the illustrator Dave Ell did absolutely fabulous work on the detail of some of the many characters featured in the saga … see what you think …. I’m in a work crunch so just enjoy the toon, download the book, pour a glass of cheap vino and kick-back … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

Operation Scorched Arse and a Woody Toon Teaser

I am pleased to report that the launch of Operation Scorched Arse was a resounding success. Clearly our guests are partial to free books and who can blame them in this day and age? We have finished two new and completely original companion Woody Toons to accompany the book launch … so check back tomorrow … in the meantime please continue to download and enjoy the first two installments of the Woody Back to School Unit saga …. ‘Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber’ and ‘Volume 2 – Operation Scorched Arse’  and generally rummage about … Bottoms Up! … RH

Completely New and Free Woody Book

As promised we are pleased to announce the absolutely ‘FREE’ launch of ‘Volume 2 – Operation Scorched Arse’ for the entertainment of our guests. Just click on the title link to download the .pdf file … some accompanying artwork is scheduled for the weekend so check back … in the meantime just kick back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Holy Smoke – Exciting New Woody Announcement

When I established this page it was intended merely to be a sales outlet for my sweeping saga of books but a lot has happened in the past nine months. Book sales have been reasonable but to be honest, as My Beloved Jojo accurately points out I just give too much away for this to be a profitable enterprise. So I have decided to change my sales strategy and just give everything away for FREE!

This site has never been a cheap undertaking; I pay to protect the copyrights of the books and also pay for Dave Ell’s illustrative work and the right to own the copyright of the Woody Toons … but that is my choice. It may be an expensive hobby but it’s my hobby and I am fortunate to have the collaborative support in this endeavor from my cherished wife, My Beloved Jojo.

So here is my plan … I am going to post full versions of Volumes 2 thru 5 of the saga on each Wednesday(ish) over the next four weeks … and I will commission appropriate artwork from Dave Ell to accompany the specifics of the books and post over the weekends. As time permits I will add the illustrations to each book for your enhanced enjoyment.

Paperback hard copies will still be available at Woodettes Publications along with the Lulu, Amazon and Barnes and Noble internet outlet stores. However, a warning to the aspiring self-publisher, these supposedly altruistic organizations appear to be peopled by gypsies, tramps and thieves trained to scavenge every last penny out of you with hidden fees. As an author you have no say in this division of spoils and will rarely be paid even the few cents that their mysterious governing bodies may have allocated you despite your contractual arrangements. Just try suing them and you will find armies of suits coming out of the woodwork!

In the fullness of time I shall decide what to do with the other Volumes 6 – 36, but in the meantime please enjoy each new free volume as they are released.

Due to personal and business commitments the schedule might be a little shaky, so please be patient and bear with me, it will all work out for the best … and if you land here for the first time have a good old rummage … there’s already a lot to read and see … Enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Great Find

It is always great to find a new (at least to me) exceptionally articulate blog. I know that many of you amongst our community have known this lady for some time but somehow she had slipped under my radar.

So a big Woody welcome to Indy who posts over at Not So Submissive … she’s well worth a visit.

I am in a work crunch so no time to blog but stay and have a good old rummage about … there’s plenty to see and read … as always … Bottoms Up! … RH

The Wart’s Comeuppance – The Collector’s Edition

It appears many of my guests appreciate it when the evil elements of the Brass at the Woody Back to School Unit get their comeuppance. The recent story about the arch-villainess Ms Wharton’s bumbags ending up on the wrong end of a cane attracted a remarkable number of hits. I have added the complete story in fully illustrated book format to the Complimentary Book box in the side-bar (The Wart’s Comeuppance).

I have also updated the Collector’s edition of the complete set of Woody Toons. It’s a Powerpoint slideshow so it takes a few minutes to download but I think it’s worthwhile. It’s a great way to study how brilliantly the artist Dave Ell interprets my stories.

I have noticed a trend of bloggers overhauling their pages and reorganizing and redesigning. Both Ian over at YEOWCH! and MarQe at his Study did magnificent jobs. The latest renovation I noticed was over at Lady Karens Echoes of My Mind. Lady Karen is a wonderfully honest and funny blogger. She certainly wears her heart on her sleeve so stop by and have a read. Good job, Ma’am.

Personally I made a terrible choice when I designed this page … I decided that I would ignore the template concept and automatic widgets and write everything in HTML … quite frankly this was not a good idea and as a result it would be quite difficult and extraordinarily time-consuming to do any redecorating so, sorry gang, you’re stuck with this look for better or worse.

It’s Sunday and RH is on cooking duty while My Beloved Jojo hollers her head off at the big games this afternoon … so I need to say ciao for now … but please hang around and have a good rummage, there’s lots to see and read … splash out … have a mimosa or a Bloody Mary … kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber  (with its swanky new cover) and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

Fabulous New Woody Toon Part 2 – Bad Day in WartWorld

This is the second part of a brand new story and Woody Toon. I understand that the Toon may be a little confusing, especially Panel 3. It certainly confused My Man in Phuket, the artist and my collaborator, poor old Dave Ell, but hopefully the accompanying story clarifies what is going on.

Sometimes it is quite difficult to take a more complex story-line and convert it into a four- panel toon, but it is great fun experimenting and as usual Dave Ell’s drawing is outstanding … it’s Saturday so pour a glass of chardonnay then just kick-back and enjoy Part 2 … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

Just the usual polite reminder that Woodettes Publications purchased these illustrations along with the copyright. I have no objection to other sites using them as long as they are accompanied by appropriate acknowledgment to the source.

Part Two – Bad Day in WartWorld

Debs did her best to catch her breath as the pain ratcheted through her central nervous system. The first stroke had been an absolute scorcher and she was in no doubt that she was in for a very hot and sweaty few minutes.

There was something terribly ominous about the sound of Patsy’s high heels clicking and clacking on the wooden floor as she walked back up the library to her staring mark. Deborah stared down at the floor. Beside her she could hear the Wart cackling. She gritted her teeth determinedly. She would never give the odious Dame the satisfaction of seeing just how terribly the cane was hurting her.

Patsy licked her lips and set off at a trot, accelerating as she made her final approach and swooping down. She slashed the cane down across Deborah’s unprotected bare flesh with a resounding thwack.

She hated being forced to participate in the Wart’s dastardly plan. The problem with delivering running benders was there was no way to pull the strokes. All she could do was to make sure every stroke landed in the safe zone across the crown of Debs buttocks, known amongst the Woody Wags as the sweet spot.

The Wart poured another large shot of tequila. She was having tremendous fun. She had always disliked Deborah intensely. She had beaten Debs on numerous occasions but Deborah had never treated her with anything but the utmost contempt. The sound of the cane rebounding off Deborah’s naked flesh was music to her ears.

~~~ooo~~~

Cathryn Cassidy hurried into Lady Victoria Brompton’s study.

“There’s something going down in the library,” she told the Red-shirt urgently. “I just got word that the Wart has drafted Patsy in to beat Debs on Red House business. There’s something fishy going on.”

Victoria Brompton grabbed her smart-phone and speed-dialed.

“I’m sorry to bother you Grand Master, but I think we may have a situation up in the library,” she said.

~~~ooo~~~

Debs was not having a good time of it. Over the past decade and a half Deborah’s rear end had become a highly calibrated whopometer. She was in no doubt whatsoever that she was experiencing some world class whops. The first five strokes had been sensational. Somehow she had managed to keep her fingers glued to the tips of her pointed shoes so that the Wart couldn’t call foul strokes for jerking. It had taken all her willpower to put it up and keep it up.

She knew the worst was still to come.

Patsy sliced the cane down diagonally. It was a perfect strike. A red line immediately etched across Deborah’s naked nates, intersecting with the first five strokes to create a five-bar gate.

Debs whole body convulsed, her head shook from side to side in anguish, but somehow she managed to stay down. She panted in consternation but at least it was over.

Debs reached down to retrieve her bumbags.

“Oh no you don’t, Morton,” hissed the Wart. “We haven’t finished with you yet.” She turned to Patsy. “Give her another six.”

Patsy gaped at the Dame. “I’ll do no such thing,” she spluttered. She glanced over at Debs. Deborah’s face was flushed and her mouth set in a thin line. Her eyes were wide open as Ms Wharton’s words penetrated through the blur of pain she was experiencing.

“Miss Cobb failed to beat Morton for her last act of dereliction of duty, I shall be dealing with her later,” said the Wart. “In the meantime bend Morton over and give her six more. That is an order.”

Patsy continued to gape. Debs face had contorted into a ghastly grimace.

“This is ridiculous Ma’am,” said Patsy. “You’ve gone too far already. I won’t do this.”

“You may be on probation Butcher but I can still have you flogged for insubordination,” snapped the Wart, “and as for Morton, if you do not beat her immediately I shall convene a special session of the House Council and charge her with Serial Malfeasance and Bringing the House into Disrepute. I feel sure that I shall carry the vote.”

Deborah’s mind was racing. It was all too terrible.

“Let’s get this over with,” Debs said finally and turned around and bent over in front of the fireplace.

Patsy Butcher turned and walked back down the library with a heavy tread. She was just about to set off at a run when the door swung open.

Mr Humphries walked in with his hands in his pockets. “Stand down, Butcher,” he said as he walked into the room. “Deborah, you can get up now.” He approached the Wart who looked shocked.

“What’s going on here?” he asked the Dame.

~~~ooo~~~

The Wart wrang her hands and gnashed her teeth while she waited outside the Grand Master’s study. Inside the office Patsy and Deborah were giving their account of events that had occurred in the library. Ms Wharton had no doubt that they were painting a bleak picture. She heard her name being called and went into the study.

“But she deserved to be thrashed,” wailed the Wart. “I am Mistress of the House and I have full authority to discipline members on a discretionary basis.”

So far the interview had not gone well for the Wart. Mr Humphries did not appear in the least bit sympathetic towards her explanations of why she had felt it necessary to have Deborah subjected to a running bare bender. In fact he had been rather dismissive of her arguments. It was all most disconcerting.

Mr Humphries leaned back in his seat. He had been the Grand Master at the Woody Back to School Unit for eight weeks now and was justifiably proud of the progress he had made. The previous year his predecessor Ms Lawton had instituted an austere regime code-named Operation Scorched Arse in an attempt to curb the rise of the subversive Cult of Mega-Minxdom. She admitted that the campaign had not been a success and had been open to abuse from the cruel Dames from the Radical Right and the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers.

Upon his arrival Mr Humphries had outlawed the practices of hostile targeting and insisted that the Dames submit written justification for their disciplinary activities.

Over the past weeks he had become increasingly impressed with the performance of Lady Victoria Brompton as Red-shirt at the facility. Despite her reputation as a pugnacious potty-mouth she was proving to be even-handed and level-headed. She ruled over her Elite corps with an iron fist and the back of her lethal wood-backed hairbrush. She had prohibited her Elite from indulging the heinous practices of collaring, sweating and sporting spanking, and the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers was now a spent force.

Nonetheless, the Grand Master was aware that he still had much work to do. Patty Hodge, the Deputy Grand Dame and Commandant of the Radical Right, considered that his Woody Glasnost, as she termed it, was an error of judgment and covertly instructed her cronies to continue to lay siege to the bumbags of the inmates. Miss Robin Wharton was one her key aides and top operatives.

Like his predecessor the Grand Master faced a dilemma. Ten years earlier when the government had first introduced the experimental Back to School Unit’s and the social rehabilitation programs they had scoured the nation for the top disciplinarians. For almost two decades Robin Wharton had appeared amongst the highest echelons of the Ministry of Educations list of leading martinets, which coupled with her reputation as a fine educator had made her a prime candidate for recruitment.

The Grand Master had studied Ms Wharton’s records during her time at Woodys. Her whop-rate was prolific; every year she caned significantly more inmates than any other member of the Brass. He also observed that she rarely issued the warning yellow cards suggested in the ‘Guidelines for Thrashing’. Curiously nearly every offence the inmates were charged with in her lecture room were of the nature that attracted a ‘mandatory caning’. He also observed that the number of gals beaten on Red House Business far out-weighed the beatings carried out by the Blue House. The majority of Red House beatings were carried out on the specific instructions of Ms Robin Wharton in her position of Mistress of the House.

The Grand Master had no doubt that Ms Wharton’s used her harsh interpretations of the rules, regulations and protocols to satisfy her need to maintain the fix’s she required as a certified Whop Junkie.

Nonetheless, in the current prevailing liberal attitudes towards corporal punishment finding a replacement martinet of the Warts caliber and experience would be a challenging task. As Ms Wharton had pointed out, “she is a necessary evil.”

He was also aware that the bumbags of Debs Morton were particularly at risk. Although he had formally rescinded her status as Public Enemy Number One and warned the Brass that she was no longer to be targeted with extreme prejudice she still spent a considerable amount of time bending forward at the waist. Despite her legions of admirers Deborah also had an unfortunate habit of attracting enemies, not the least of whom was Ms Wharton. During the year of Operation Scorched Arse the Wart had taken advantage of Deborah’s unfortunate status as Ms Lawton’s bête noir and had caned her more than any other inmate at the facility. He had no doubt that the events in the library were the result of Ms Wharton’s malicious obsession with creating havoc inside Deborah’s bumbags.

He was barely listening to the Wart’s increasingly indignant justifications for her actions, it was grating on his nerves.

“Ms Wharton, that is enough,” he said finally. “As far as I am concerned you have stepped well-outside the boundaries of your authority. I am going to offer you several choices. I shall leave it for you to decide how we will proceed.”

~~~ooo~~~

Deborah and Patsy had to revive the Wart with smelling salts after she had fainted. They helped her into an easy chair.

“Take your time, Ms Wharton,” counseled the Grand Master. “I would not like you to make any rash decisions.”

The Wart promptly burst into floods of tears.

~~~ooo~~~

“Katie,” the Grand Master instructed, “please find Ms Wharton a set of clobber. Once she is suitably attired take her down to the Great Hall and set up the vaulting horse. At six o’clock assemble the unit; we are going to have ourselves a Public Flogging.”

Katie Beck gaped at the Grand Master. She knew from personal experience that Mr Humphries was willing to go to unusual lengths to demonstrate his point of view. On two occasions the Grand Master had considered Katie’s interpretations of the protocols known as the ‘Politics of Clobber’ to be overly conservative. He had emphasized his opinion with Katie head down, arse up over his knee.

Patty and the Wart had teased her mercilessly in the saloon bar of the Bunch of Grapes.

“He can do that to you because you’re only semi-Brass, he’d never dare to do that to real Brass,” the Wart had told Katie imperiously. It had given Katie a severe dose of the pip.

“I’ll be happy too,” Katie Beck said gleefully. “Come with me, Warty one.”

“Have you ever used a cane?” The Grand Master asked Deborah after Katie and the Wart had left the study.

Debs shook her head.

“Well this is the time for you to learn,” said Mr Humphries. “Patsy, take Deborah down to the practice range and get her fully certified. We’ll reconvene back here in an hour.”

~~~ooo~~~

Deborah’s best chums Rosemary, Jojo and Nix were concerned for the well-being of their friend’s bumbags. She had not been seen since she had been summoned to the library and she was noticeable by her absence when they assembled in the Great Hall.

Unusually when Katie Beck had issued the instructions over the intercom for the inmates to repair to the hall to witness a public flogging she had not announced the name of the unfortunate recipient.

The ominous vaulting horse on the stage and Deborah’s absence gave her chums good reason to believe that it was poor Debs who was about to be flogged.

~~~ooo~~~

Rosemary, Jojo and Nix sighed in unison as the doors to the hall swung open and Mr Humphries entered followed by Deborah Morton. Their sighs changed to gasps as seconds later Robin Wharton shuffled into the hall.

The Dame was dressed in ill-fitting clobber. Katie had found a gymslip that was indecently short and barely covered the Warts navy blue bumbags. A shield with the letter ‘W’ had been sewn onto the bib. Robin Wharton was a creature of significant girth and she looked as if she had been shoe-horned into the garments. She followed the Grand Master and Deborah up onto the stage with her head lowered. She looked pitiful and bereft of dignity.

The Grand Master gave a brief but pointed speech assuring the inmates that abuse of privilege by the Brass would not be tolerated. He promised to review the appeals process, which he acknowledged the inmates rarely resorted to as under the current protocols a failed appeal resulted in the inmates receiving double the amount of strokes.

Throughout the speech the Wart stood with her head hung low and her shoulders pumping as she sobbed and blubbered in her despair.

The Grand Master looked over at Deborah. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Sir,” she responded with as much confidence as she could muster.

Patsy stepped forward and helped Deborah out of her blazer. Debs rolled up her cuffs and loosened her tie before accepting the thirty-six inch long rattan cane.

“Ms Wharton, please remove your blazer and bend over the horse,” instructed the Grand Master.

Katie Beck stepped forward and retrieved the Wart’s red and black striped blazer. She made no effort to disguise her glee at Ms Wharton’s misfortune.

The Wart took some persuading before she bent over. She pleaded and begged, sobbed and wailed that it was all a terrible misunderstanding. It was only when Mr Humphries threatened to have her physically bound down over the equipment that she finally complied.

~~~ooo~~~

Robin Wharton felt the hem of her navy blue gymslip being slowly turned back. Huge wet tears were dripping on the floor of the stage. She felt giddy and befuddled; she still had difficulty grasping how she had come to be in this ignominious position.

The Grand Master had offered the Dame two options, she could pack her trunks and leave the facility for good, or she could accept a suitable punishment to amend for her sins.  

The punishment on offer was to allow herself to be subjected to a public flogging. In addition she would spend the subsequent four weeks required to dress in full clobber and would be assigned to work as a grubby on the Elite landing. Members of the Elite would be granted full spanking rights while the Dame was on duty.

Unpalatable as the latter option was to the Wart, the first option was even worse. In the world outside the bricked walls of the Woody compound use of the cane had become unfashionable. If she chose to resign she was sentencing herself to a life as a Whop Junkie with little or no chance of ever scoring a fix. It was just too terrible to consider.

~~~ooo~~~

Deborah Morton flexed the cane between her hands and took several deep breaths to calm herself. She had spent forty-five minutes on the practice range taking instruction from Patsy in the fine art of caning and getting certified. After overcoming her initial nerves she had shown herself to be a natural with a cane. Even by the normal high standards of a professional tennis player her eye-ball coordination had been considered astonishing and her racquet control exceptional. Years of hitting hundreds of thousands of tennis balls had made her wrists remarkably strong. She quickly learned that she did not need to use much of a back-swing, the secret to controlling the shaft and tip of the cane was to finish the stroke with a flick of the wrist, accelerating the whippy stick to Mach One.

Nonetheless, raising the dust from the bumbags of a mannequin was one thing but the prospect delivering her first thrashing in real-life was altogether more daunting.

Debs set her feet and concentrated. She tapped the cane down once, twice, thrice across the tautened bumbags that appeared to be constructed from enough material to make a set of drapes for a reasonable sized bay window. She pulled her arm back and swung the cane.

The Warts response was instantaneous. She screamed and squealed, her body convulsed, her legs scissored, her head shook and her fists pummeled the air.

The inmates in the hall exchanged glances. There were very few of them who had not been subjected to a beating from the Wart. She was the most despised member of the Brass; the sight of her getting her comeuppance was a treat that they had never expected to experience. However, her response had astonished them. The inmates of the Woody Back to School Unit lived by the credo that ‘only muffs howl’. Over the years they had witnessed dozens public floggings; the recipients gracing the stage with pride and stoicism. Never had they seen a reaction of the theatrical scale of Ms Wharton’s.

Deborah felt her nerves dissipate. The first stroke had gone off swimmingly; the cane had landed perfectly within the sweet spot. She settled in. She planned to deliver a long, leisurely caning with thirty second intervals between strokes. However, the Wart was not cooperating. She continued to wriggle and squirm long after the interval had elapsed.

Mr Humphries was not given to irritability but he was clearly becoming vexed. “Ms Wharton, cease those ridiculous noises and stay still,” he told her. “If you do not put it up and keep it up I shall be compelled to have you restrained.”

Deborah forced herself to maintain her concentration and not allow herself to be distracted by the Dame’s pathetic blubbing and sniveling. Debs would not have been blamed if she had succumbed to the temptation to thrash the bejaysus out of the Wart but she showed admirable restraint. She delivered every stroke with the same measured control and accuracy.

“She’s good,” whispered Nixdown admiringly.

Jojo and Rosemary nodded sagely. “This is a world class whopping,” agreed Jojo.

“What a fucking muff,” Rosemary opined about the Wart.

The flogging was proving to be a laborious process. Despite Mr Humphries chiding the Wart continued to blub and howl, and her bumbags constantly wriggled like an unset jelly. She took considerable coercion between each stroke to settle down so that Deborah had a steady target to aim at. The Grand Master considered dispatching Katie to collect some striped ties from her inventory and tying the Wart into position but figured it would just prolong the performance.

Debs took a deep breath. She was determined to close the flogging with the same consummate skill with which she had delivered the first eleven strokes. She adjusted her stance slightly and slashed the cane down diagonally.

The Warts response was deafening. Her screams were in danger of shattering the windows.

“Holy smoking bumbags, that was one helluva whop,” giggled Nixdown.

“Looked like it was designed to cut the Wart in two,” agreed Jojo.

“Well now we know that The Wart might be able to dish it out but she certainly can’t take it,” observed Rosemary.

“What a fucking muff,” chorused the three chums cheerily.

Robin Wharton stood on the stage sobbing and moaning. She looked disheveled and forlorn.

“Katie take this fool upstairs and clean her up, she looks like she’s been dragged through a hedge backwards, I’ll see her in my study in thirty minutes,” said the Grand Master. “We need to discuss her grubby schedule.”

The inmates stomped their feet and whooped and cheered as Robin Wharton was dejectedly escorted from the stage.

~~~ooo~~~

“I’m really sorry about earlier, sis,” said Patsy ashamedly. “I should have stood up to her.”

“And risked being sent back inside?” replied Debs. “She stitched both of us up like kippers; there was nothing either of us could do.” She reached over and hugged Patsy. “Don’t worry; you can’t break me with a cane, but sis I have to say you are still hot stuff.”

Patsy returned Deborah’s hug. “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black, next year when you’re a member of the Elite gawd help the gal’s bumbags. That was a sensational swishing!”

~~~ooo~~~

“He had no right to treat me like that,” wailed the Wart in the saloon bar of the Bunch of Grapes. Understandably she had elected not to perch her frazzled rear end on a bar-stool and was propping up the bar slamming back tequilas at Olympic rate. “I have a good mind to report him to the Ministry.”

“Yeah rock on Warty-one,” grinned Patty Hodge. “The only reason you agreed to be flogged is because you’re a Whop Junkie and this is the only place you’re guaranteed a fix. Hey, it was only whops.”

“So much for your theory that he wouldn’t dare do that to real Brass,” gloated Katie.

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!” growled the Wart and slammed down a healthy shot of tequila that she charged to Katie Beck’s tab.

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

Fabulous New Woody Toon – A Running Bender

This is the first part of a brand new story and Woody Toon. Yesterday I posted a brief primer into the odious character known to the Woody Wags as the Wart. Today we find her in action.

I think that you’ll agree that Dave Ell has excelled himself with detail, characterization and coloration … well done Dave! … Part Two of the story and toon is scheduled for tomorrow so set your clocks … Kick-back and enjoy Part 1 … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

Just the usual polite reminder that Woodettes Publications purchased these illustrations along with the copyright. I have no objection to other sites using them as long as they are accompanied by an appropriate acknowledgment to the source.

Part One – A Running Bender

“Ms Wharton wants to see you up in the library,” the House Grubby informed Deborah Morton.

Debs scowled. The grubby took a step backwards, nervous that Debs might hack her in the shins.

“Don’t shoot me I’m just the messenger,” said the grubby hurriedly. “By the way, Ms Wharton instructed me to tell you to cut along sharpish. She was looking pretty shirty.”

Deborah just rolled her eyes and nodded dismissively at the grubby. She did not feel the least bit inclined to cut along sharpish to anywhere and most certainly not to the library for a chin-wag with the Wart. A summons to appear before the Mistress of the House was never pleasant in Deborah’s experience and rarely ended favorably for the health or safety of her bumbags.

She wracked her brains to think of any reason that could have caused her to have been  summonsed. To the best of her knowledge she had fulfilled all her House duties including acting as a kitchen assistant earlier in the day.

Deborah was not generally of a nervous disposition but as she cut through the labyrinth of hallways, corridors and stair-wells of the vast complex she grew increasingly dejected. Her relationship with the Wart had never been good and she was quite certain that the Mistress of the House would have some heinous plan to make things unpleasant for her. She was resigned to the fact that there was a ninety-five per cent certainty that she was being summoned to be caned, for some unknown reason and undoubtedly bogus pretext. That would be unpleasant enough, although six strokes from the House Captain, Sally Cobb, would be nothing more than a minor inconvenience to a whop-hardened veteran like Debs. She was more concerned by the prospect of having to endure an unsavory ration of tongue pie from the odious Wart.

She finally reached the long landing that led to the unit library and trudged towards the large oak door. Over the past six years Deborah Morton had spent a considerable amount of time standing in the corridor outside the library door, with her hands on her head and her nose pressed to the wall, waiting to be caned.

She took a deep breath and swung the door open. She crossed the light and airy reading area until she reached a second door. She knocked. She heard the unmistakable sound of the Wart’s voice bellowing “Come” as if she was a lost puppy. With trembling fingers she opened the door and stepped in.

It took several seconds to acclimatize herself to the shadowy darkness after the bright lights of the study area. The Wart was seated in a leather armchair positioned beside the fireplace at the far end of the library. Debs blinked her eyes. To her surprise standing alongside the Wart was Patsy Butcher dressed in her official Elite regalia. There was no sign of Sally Cobb. To Deborah’s consternation she couldn’t help noticing that Patsy was tapping the tip of a long crook-handled cane against the side of her high-heeled shoe.

Patsy Butcher had completed her seven year sentence at the Woody Back to School Unit at the end of the previous year. She was now released on probation and lived in the local town, where she was training as a sports therapist. For twelve months she remained under the jurisdiction of the Unit and her activities were monitored to ensure that she was adhering to the requirements of her social rehabilitation certification.

During her last year at the unit Patsy had served as the Captain of the Red House. Patsy and Debs were tight, they worked out together regularly in the Wellness Center. Nonetheless, Patsy’s tenure had coincided with Deborah being branded Public Enemy Number One at the unit and open season being declared on her bumbags. As Mistress of the Red House the Wart had exploited Deborah’s unfortunate position and she had been subjected to several painful altercations with Patsy’s cane on Ms Whartons instruction.

With a sense of trepidation Debs made her way down the library. The Wart took a long snort of tequila and rose unsteadily to her feet. Deborah suspected that she might be some way into her cups. She couldn’t help noticing that Patsy was looking decidedly uncomfortable.

“Put your hands on your head, young lady,” snapped the Wart.

Deborah glared at her but did as she was told.

“You are a bone idle, inconsiderate degenerate, Morton,” said the Wart. “You failed to turn up for weeding duty and the Blue House has applied for our House to be fined fifteen penalty points.”

“Weeding duty?” asked Deborah incredulously. “I wasn’t on the roster for weeding duty.” She was taken by surprise and her incredulity was genuine.

“The roster was revised; one of our work-force had to visit the infirmary. The new roster was posted at lunch-time, so there was plenty of time for you to review you schedule, there is absolutely no excuse for your wanton dereliction of duty,” snapped the Wart.

Debs heart began to beat uncomfortably fast. She did not like the direction the conversation was taking.

“You have already been beaten twice this year on House Business. Remind me Morton, what were your offenses on those occasions?” asked the Wart.

Debs sighed. “Cutting work details, but …” Debs was forced to admit.

“No buts’, Morton!” snapped the Wart. “And the House was fined on both occasions?”

“Yes, Ma’am but,” started Debs.

“No buts I said, one more but out of you and I will put you over my knee and spank you,” said the Wart. She leaned forward in Deborah’s face with her hands on her hips. “Your serial negligence is unforgiveable,” she stormed. “The rest of the House is working hard and you just fritter away points due to your inconsiderate indolence.”

Debs stared at the Wart. It was ridiculous. Even taking the fines into account she was by far the highest accumulator of credits accumulator in the whole House. “But …” she began to object.

“Do you really want me to spank you?” screamed the Wart.

“No, Ma’am,” muttered Debs.

“I intend to make an example of you Morton, I have drafted Butcher in to give you a running bender,” the Wart informed Debs.

“Is this really necessary, Ma’am?” interjected Patsy.

The Wart span around, her eyes blazing. “It is absolutely necessary and seeing as none of my Red House prefects’ are certified to give running benders then it is your responsibility as a former Captain of the House to deliver the beating. It will look very bad on your probation report if you should choose to willfully disobey a direct order from one of your probation observers.”

Patsy pursed her lips. Momentarily she shot a glance and their eyes met. They were both being stitched up like kippers.

“You have the right to appeal and go before the House Council,” said Patsy.

“That is correct, Butcher, Morton can file an appeal and I shall file an application for her to be subjected to a Formal House Beating for Serial Dereliction of Duty,” retorted the Wart.

Debs considered this option. She felt that she might have a reasonable defense due to the late posting of the roster. However, most of her close Elite chums were on the Blue House council and were of no help. She didn’t think that she had any particular enemies, aside from Sally ‘Be-yotch’ Cobb on the Red House Council but she was not confident that any of the prefects would risk defying the clear wishes of the Mistress of the House just to save her bumbags.

If she lost the appeal she was certain that the Wart would be successful in her move that she should to be subjected to a Formal House Beating. Not only would that doubtless involve twelve strokes instead of six but she would also face the abject humiliation of a full-collar walk-through the landings. During the dark year of Operation Scorched Arse she had been forced to endure the ignominy of being escorted through the landings with a prefect roughly holding her by the scruff of her neck and twisting her arm up behind her back on three occasions. The thought of another repeat of these appalling episodes made her feel quite bilious.

“I’m not appealing,” she said tightly, “I’ll take my whops.”

Deborah watched Patsy shrug off her blazer. There was no question her chum was a magnificent creature. Standing over six-feet in her high-heels, her long dreadlocks reaching almost to her waist, her athletes legs seeming to reach up to beneath her armpits and her blouse seeming to cling to her muscular torso like a second skin made her appear positively Amazonian. Debs watched as the Rastafarian beauty rolled back her cuffs and loosened her tie.

“I’m going to need you to remove your blazer and bend over in front of the fireplace,” Patsy said, not unkindly.

Debs lowered her arms. Her eye caught Patsy’s again, they exchanged a resigned glance. They knew that they were just pawns in the Wart’s malicious game.

The Wart had settled herself back into an easy chair and lit a cigarette. She had brought a bottle of Patron tequila along to help her enjoy the spectacle.

Debs took off her blazer and hung it up. Unenthusiastically she approached the fireplace and bent down and touched her toes. It was one of the least favored positions for being caned amongst the inmates as it was difficult to maintain whilst under hostile fire. However, Deborah’s exercise regime had made her exceptionally limber and she felt little strain on her calves and thighs.

She could hear the click of Patsy’s feet behind her and then felt her chum gently turning back the hem of her navy blue pleated skirt into little folds. She felt Patsy tug on the tail of her blouse and turn that back too. She suddenly felt very exposed.

“Kill the bumbags,” chortled the Wart.

There was a momentary silence in the room. “I’m not authorized to do that Ma’am,” objected Patsy.

“I am authorizing you, Butcher, just do as you are told,” said the Wart.

“But Ma’am, the House Charter does not allow me to deliver a bare bender,” said Patsy.

“The House Charter allows the House Mistress to decide such matters,” snorted the Wart.

“But Ma’am, the Unit Charter over-rides that, I am not authorized,” said Patsy emphatically.

“I can assure you Butcher that I am working within the protocols, I shall write up the justification, now get on with it,” snapped Robin Wharton.

“And if I refuse?” asked Patsy.

“I’ll put in a report to the probationary arm of the System,” said the Wart and poured another healthy hit of tequila. “You’ll be resentenced.”

“That’s bullshit, I’ll take my chances,” said Patsy obstinately.

“Oh for gawd’s sake Patsy,” muttered Debs from her stooped position. “Just kill the bumbags!!!”

Patsy contemplated poking the Wart in the eye with one of her long fingernails, but finally thought better of it. She finally laid aside the cane and reached forward. She put her thumbs inside the elastic waistband of Deborah’s tautened navy blue gossamer bumbags and slowly rolled them down. She turned away, retrieved the cane and after glaring at the Wart she paced back along the wooden floorboards, the click of her heels the only sound in the room. She chalked a mark on the floor and began to gather herself.

Patsy Butcher tapped the tip of the cane on the floor and set off running.

Debs braced herself, she knew the pain would be excruciating. Even the thin protection of the most threadbare pair of bumbags took a miniscule bite out of the sensation of a rattan cane whipping across bare flesh. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

The cane swiped down.

“Holy Smoke!” thought Debs Morton.

To be continued …

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

Woody Toon Teaser – Introducing the Wart

This is a teaser from the new two-part Woody Toon which introduces the arch-villainess Ms Robin Wharton, aka as the Wart.

The full cartoons will be available tomorrow and Friday, so set your clocks. The drafts look astounding but production has been slowed down as Our Man in Phuket, Dave Ell, claims to be suffering from a potentially incurable hangover. So in the mean-time meet Ms Robin Wharton … this is her story! Kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

The Wart sat on her usual bar-stool in the saloon bar of the Bunch of Grapes. She was feeling lonely and miserable. Without the alluring presence of Patty and Katie the local lothario’s were ignoring her. Robin Wharton acknowledged that she had allowed herself to go to seed. Years of hard drinking, heavy smoking and a fondness for her tucker had taken their toll. She had once been a vibrant beauty with a certain charm that she had used to her advantage.

At school despite her reputation as an odious sneak and bully who would sacrifice her best friend’s bumbags to avoid getting caned herself she still managed to attract a circle of sycophants. She treated them like her personal staff and they were expected to confess to Robin’s sins whenever there were whops on the horizon. She was one of the few gals at the school who navigated the first six years without a single stroke of the cane slashing across her bumbags.

She campaigned assiduously for the role of Head Prefect. She toadied up to the Brass and made herself indispensible to the outgoing Headgal. Although by nature she was bone idle and was not in the least bit interested in performing the mundane administrative functions expected of her it was the authority to cane the other pupils that attracted her to the position. Having installed a cadre of her sycophants in key roles, to lessen her tiresome burden, she embarked on a frenzy of whops.

The system operated at the school gave her the authority to cane gals in the privacy of her study without the matter being entered into the official record. It was a system open for abuse and Robin abused it liberally. Although she was only sanctioned to deliver three strokes in an individual session many diarists recall that she would often cane them multiple times on the same day.

Despite their pain and suffering the pupils were forced to endure her tyranny without complaint. The alternative was a trip to the Headmistress’s study where the punishments were more severe and were accompanied by a letter to their parents describing their errant behavior.

For the majority of the time she operated with impunity and was only ever exposed once, when she forced a gal to cross the quadrangle in her pajamas during a snow-storm. The unfortunate gal who was sporting three sets of stripes on her poor beleaguered bum ended up in the infirmary with a severe chill. Robin was caned in front of the whole school and by all accounts she made a total muff of herself. Inexplicably she managed to retain power and by the time the year was over her whop rate was over five times that of any of her predecessors.

Having developed a taste for whops and tequila she enrolled in Teachers Training College where she read geography which took little effort and allowed her plenty of time for engaging in liaisons with wealthy and generally married lovers.

Once she had graduated she sought employment at private schools with reputations for harsh discipline. For almost two decades she appeared amongst the highest echelons of the Ministry of Educations list of top disciplinarians. When Ms Lawton was scouting for Brass for the newly opened Woody Back to School unit Robin Wharton was a shoo-in.

When she joined the Brass her looks were already fading and her taste for gluttonous dining had added significant inches to her girth. However, she immediately palled up with the beautiful Patty and scored numerous hot dates just by association.

At that time Katie Beck was still an inmate but she had attracted the attention of Patty. Patty assigned the Wart the task of covertly training Katie for taking on the powerful role of Red-shirt and to act as commandant of the SS. In the background Patty smoothed the way for Katie’s eventual promotion.

The Wart was impressed by Katie who needed little in the way of training as she was a cruel and devious bitch by nature. The two women became tight and Katie would go on to become the most tyrannical Red-shirt in the unit’s history.

The Wart had been over-joyed when Katie had returned as the unit’s matron. Not only did she strengthen the ranks of the Radical Right but in the subordinate position of only being considered semi-Brass she replaced Robin as Patty’s personal lackey.

The Wart slammed down several hits of tequila. The glory days of the Radical Right were long over and now with Patty and Katie at each other’s throats Robin Wharton felt miserable and insecure. Her attempts to parlay a peace deal between the warring factions appeared to have failed. She watched with increasing alarm as public opinion appeared to be shifting in favor of the Back to School units being closed down. She wondered what would become of her.

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

Spanking Humor, Art and Literature

Clearly you guys have a good sense of spanking humor. Yesterday’s toon featuring Cedric the spanking obsessed parrot had an incredible amount of views in the first hour and then the hits just kept on rolling. Cedric is positively preening. He’ll be back!

For lovers of spanking art and humor I can’t give enough praise to Spankart for maintaining the wonderful Spanking Art Wiki which is a brilliantly run showcase of the enormous amount of artists offering their spanking works absolutely free (the site is hosted by another great source of spanking art Anime OTK). I have a page over there under R Humphries and Dave Ell has the complete Sammy Simpkins collection on display … Great job Spankart!

Equally impressive is The Kilahara Library of Spanking Fiction run by Februs and flopsy. Very well organized and obviously painstakingly created. A great place to stop off and check out a huge range of free stories from a wide variety of writers with tastes of all kinds … another great job!

Sadly business commitments divert me from blogging activities … but still it is Lazy Sunday for most of you … so kick-back, sip on a Bloody Mary or a mimosa, have a good rummage around the site and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Fab New Woody Toon – Keyhole Katie – The Far Side of Spanking

This new toon was by special request from My Beloved Jojo. For personal reasons she has an affinity with the rather deranged and spank obsessed parrot, Cedric. She also loves to read about the evil matron of the unit, Katie Beck, getting her comeuppance. Jojo takes the Woody Back to School Unit stories quite personally. Not surprising really, after all she has been one of the major characters in nearly forty books, and that was before her new found fame as a cartoon star.

My usual thanks and congratulations to Dave Ell for another fabulous job of breathing life into my stories and characters!

I have always enjoyed writing the Katie character as her devious nature offers plenty of scope for her underhand tricks to back-fire, generally resulting in outbreaks of mischief and mayhem inside her own bumbags … the extract from ‘Volume 15 – The Woodettes’ that follows the toon is an example of Katie getting caught out in one of her nefarious plots … its Saturday so kick-back, pour a glass of chilled chardonnay and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

Just the usual polite reminder that Woodettes Publications purchased these illustrations along with the copyright. I have no objection to other sites using them as long as they are accompanied by appropriate acknowledgment to the source.

The Great Button-Busting Scam

The inmates of the Woody Back to School unit hollered and whooped as Claire Brooks lowered Katie Beck over her lap and turned back the hem of her gymslip.

Claire Brooks had been horrified to find a note in her laundry pigeon-hole instructing her to report to Katie’s office for handing in her blouse for laundry in a clobber abusive condition.

Claire held a unique record at the facility. She was the only inmate in its ten year history who had never been punished for breaking any of the copious rules, regulations and protocols known as the Politics of Clobber.

Claire gaped at Katie. The unit’s matron shook out the crisply starched white blouse and laid it face up on the desk. There was no question that it was in an abusive condition; the third button down was missing.

“That’s impossible,” gasped Claire, “I checked that blouse last night before I handed it in for laundry. There is no way on earth that I would have handed it in with a missing button.”

“I can only judge matters based upon the laundry supervisor’s report,” said Katie. “According to the paperwork the button was missing when they took custody of it. You’re due a dusting.”

Claire continued to gape at Katie.

Katie Beck was settling Claire in over her knees when Mr Humphries stepped into her office.

“Not so fast, Katie. Let her up. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about,” he told her.

The Grand Master reviewed Katie’s application to slipper Claire. Slippering of members of the Elite for clobber abuse was rare but not totally unprecedented. Katie had listed half a dozen previous instances of prefects being dusted for various contraventions of the Politics of Clobber. The paperwork was meticulous and the case seemed bona fide. Under the circumstances the Grand Master felt obliged to endorse the application.

The Grand Master was drinking his morning coffee and smoking a cigarette. He idly clicked his mouse on the electronic punishment record database on the GalGab web-site. He went to a pull down menu and filtered down to the number of inmates who had recently been slippered by Katie for handing in blouses in a state similar to the one she had just shown him. He sipped his coffee thoughtfully and then picked up his cell-phone.

“Miss Beck said she’d take away our contract if we didn’t make quota.” the supervisor told the Grand Master. “We needed the work so we started busting buttons. She was very pleased and gave me some generous bonuses.”

“And you were button busting last night?”

“Oh yes sir,” the supervisor assured him. “The Brooks button sir. Miss Beck was very specific. Blouse number 3246. We found it and we busted the button, third down from the neck. Did we do good sir?”

Katie wrung her hands and gnashed her teeth in despair. As usual it was Patty Hodge who had put her in a jam. For the past few weeks Katie had been regaling her cohorts on the Radical Right with blow by blow accounts of the slew of slipperings she was delivering as a result of her brilliant button-busting scam. She picked her targets artfully, focusing on the most clobber-challenged inmates and targeting gals who had previously handed their blouses in for laundry with missing buttons. She had worked out a schedule for the remainder of the year and figured she could effortlessly slipper three bonus inmates a week without attracting attention to her nefarious activities. It was a whop junkie’s dream.

Patty was envious of Katie’s bonus bum roastings. She was going through a personal whop crisis. In the past her cronies had been generous about spreading around the whops and making sure she scored her daily fix. Recently, however, her supply seemed to have dried up. Her chums were either choosing to whop the inmates locally, or to send them directly to the Grand Master’s office to be caned. It was not a situation that pleased Patricia Hodge and it galled her that Katie was having so much fun.

“I checked the database,” she told Katie. “I noticed that you have never slippered Claire Brooks.”

Katie shrugged. “Yeah, she’s the one that got away. I’ve had them all at one time or another, even Rachel Cox and Nicola Jane Nixon. But never Claire,” she said wistfully.

“No time like the present,” Patty goaded her. “Put her on the button-busting schedule and no-one will ever notice.”

Katie Beck was doing her best to tough it out. Mr Humphries had instructed Claire to give Katie thirty-six smacks of the slipper and the Beckster was beginning to rue the day she had spotted the leather soled slipper at a Greek market stall.

It was a long methodical spanking; Katie was forced to lie across the prefect’s lap for almost ten minutes, her bottom glowing like a police beacon. Claire Brooks was all business, working up and down Katie’s bum; she established an undercoat and then worked on some detailed hot-spots before applying a final finish.

There was a carnival atmosphere in the hall. The exposure of the button-busting scam had cleared up some mysteries. Numerous of the inmates had awoken to be aghast to find notes in their pigeon-holes instructing them to repair to Katie’s office for a slippering. They were generally dumb-founded to be confronted with blouses with missing buttons. However, Katie’s practice of targeting the most clobber-challenged inmates was effective. Her targets had all made similar errors previously and even though they were convinced they’d checked the garments before handing them in there was always an element of doubt in their minds and they accepted the slipperings with stoic resignation. The sound of Claire rebounding the leather-soled slipper off Katie’s naked rear end was music to their ears.

By the time she was allowed to return to the vertical Katie was looking visibly cowed. She rubbed her eyes with the cuff of her blouse and flounced off the stage with her head hung low and her hands looking suspiciously like they were prepared for rubbing.

Cathryn Cassidy smiled at Katie. Cat had taken particular care over her appearance. She had dressed in a micro-mini gymslip that barely covered her bumbags, black hose with a matching suspender belt and three-inch stiletto heels. She wore her collar unfastened and her tie hung out over the bib of her gymslip. She had donned her trademark boater and wore it at a jaunty angle.

Katie Beck stood with her hands on her head, the bib of her gymslip lowered and her tie slung back over her shoulder. Cathryn whistled cheerfully as she inspected the unit matron’s clobber and occasionally blew cigarette smoke in her face.

The news that she was being put on full clobber probation was devastating enough for Katie. The news that her bête noire, Cathryn Cassidy, was being appointed as her probation officer made her feel quite bilious.

“It’s all your fault,” Katie fumed at Patty. “I had a perfectly good scam going and now you’ve ruined it.”

“You’re a grown woman Katie,” retorted Patty sanctimoniously. “You make your own decisions and suffer the consequences accordingly.”

“You told me to slipper her,” said Katie angrily.

“No I did not Katie,” said Patty sharply. “I merely suggested it would be a wizard wheeze. This was not Radical Right business, this was Politics of Clobber business and that’s your department.”

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!” growled Katie Beck.

Cathryn grinned to herself. She took her time inspecting every hem and thread of Katie’s clobber. Cat was amongst the most perennially clobber-challenged of the inmates and had suffered many long hot slipperings bent like a bow across Katie’s knee. The opportunity to give the facility’s matron a dose of her own medicine was really quite delightful.

Katie was beginning to sweat. Cathryn was applying all the subtle tricks that Katie had deployed over the years to make clobber inspections as disagreeable as possible. Working from the rear was always a successful tactic. Raising the back of the collar or the hem of a skirt and whimsically muttering, “And what have we got here?” was guaranteed to send goose bumps down a gal’s spine. Cathryn Cassidy played Katie like a fish.

Katie stomped out of the haberdasher’s laden down with bags filled with clobber. She had been stunned by the availability. Normally by the beginning of summer everything would have been sold out and she was expecting to have to have her new clobber special ordered. However, the racks were filled with gymslips, blazers and blouses of every size.

As she wandered through the town in search of a cab she was amazed to observe the amount of high fashion chicks who were dressed in the red and black striped blazers, white blouses and red and black-striped ties as worn by the inmates of the Woody Back to School unit.

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

A Bedtime Beating – the Collector’s Edition

Everybody should release a Collector’s Edition so I took the two part story ‘A Bedtime Beating’ and compiled it into PDF book format. This special Collector’s Edition comes complete with original illustrations from my buddy and collaborator, the brilliant artist and legend in his own lunch-time, Dave Ell.

As usual this is absolutely free to you guys to download at your leisure … sadly current business obligations make it difficult for me to post very often … nonetheless, we have some new stories and toon’s scheduled so keep checking back … after all, there is plenty to see and read … be bold … have a good rummage around … in the meantime the weekend is upon us … so get down into the wine cellar, pour a glass of red and kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH.

Another Absolutely Free Woody Book

I am delighted to announce that I have converted a series of stories that I had previously serialized into proper book format. I have added additional illustrations from my wonderful collaborator, Dave Ell, and I have corrected some minor typos and inconsistencies. Click here to download ‘A Life in the Day of Debs Morton’, in pdf format absolutely free. I will be publishing this book for sale at Lulu, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble and due to the cost of producing a color book it will retail at $19.99 even in paperback, so $0.00 is a helluva deal … Just my way of saying thanks to all my visitors.

 I have also done other some minor editing to the site. I’ve added a section in the sidebar exclusively dedicated to the Famous Four who are the main characters of my stories and attract considerable amount of inquiries into their backgrounds … I have also added some more Powerpoint presentations to the Woody Toons area and compiled a Collectors show that contains all the toons (it is kinda slow to download, at least on my machine but I think it’s worth it) … so kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Brand New Woody Toon – A Bed-time Beating (Part 2)

For our 200th post we have the conclusion of the original story I began posting yesterday  and the accompanying brand new Woody Toon. Personally, considering Dave Ell was whining about having alcohol induced shakes I think that he has done a magnificent job on this new toon … well done Dave … It’s Saturday night, kick-back, crack open a beer or pour a glass of wine and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

Just the usual polite reminder that Woodettes Publications purchased these illustrations along with the copyright. I have no objection to other sites using them as long as they are accompanied by appropriate acknowledgment to the source.

The following story is a continuation from the post that I have wisely renamed as ‘A Bedtime Beating – Part 1′.

Although Deborah despised Katie she had a grudging admiration for her skill as a spanker. Deborah had little doubt that she was scheduled to be sprawled across Katie’s lap for some considerable time. Katie was spanking her at a leisurely pace leaving plenty of time for each resounding crack of the slipper to cycle through Deborah’s system. It was all very disagreeable. It didn’t help that Katie maintained a running commentary throughout the slippering, informing Deborah gloatingly that there was no better way for a gal to kick-start her circulation in the morning than a prolonged slippering. Debs did her best to zone out the unpleasant and snide remarks but they were distracting. She was having considerable difficulty getting into the zone.

Katie had Deborah pinned head down, arse up for almost ten minutes. By the time she was released Deborah was thoroughly drained. There was no question that Katie had done a very thorough job and Debs felt as if her bum had swollen up to the size of a pair of watermelons. Her face was flushed and her cheeks were burning. Her eyes blazed with righteous indignation as she handed over her Punishment Record Book for post-processing.

“I hope that taught you a lesson, Morton,” cackled Katie.

“I’ll teach you a fucking lesson,” muttered Debs as she stomped out of the office.

For the second consecutive day Deborah Morton was forced to spend an uncomfortable day on the hard wooden seats in the lecture rooms. She was extremely grumpy and broody. The ignominy of being forced to spend an extended period over Katie’s knee was almost worse than the pain of the spanking. She found it hard to concentrate on the tutorials. By lunchtime she had already accumulated three yellow warning cards and had become unnervingly close to being caned on several occasions.

“You need to be careful,” her best chum Rosemary counseled her at lunch-time. “If you carry on like this you’re going to be thrashed and your bum is in no shape for a whopping right now.”

Debs knew her chum was right but she was seething with pent up anger. “I’ll get that be-yotch,” she muttered darkly, but despite her foul temper Debs had managed to navigate the afternoon lectures without unpleasant incident.

Deborah forced herself to stay awake. She watched the digital alarm clock by her bed. Official lights out and lockdown was at eleven o’clock. For the next forty five minutes the prefect known as the Dorm Raider would continue to make her rounds of the landings on the look-out for anybody goofing or gabbing. Debs feigned sleep when Melanie White quietly opened the door to the study she shared with Rosemary and shone her pin light into the room.

Deborah waited until midnight before swinging her legs out of bed. She picked up her red and black dressing gown and put it on. Across the room Rosemary was cutting plenty of zees. Deborah padded quietly across the room and slipped out onto the landing. The facility was silent. She hurried along the corridor.

Katie’s office was a considerable distance from the living quarters so Debs had to cut through a labyrinth of hallways, corridors and stairwells to reach her destination. After six years of incarceration Deborah knew every inch of the sprawling building and even in the darkness she was able to find her way. She approached the final stairwell that led up to the Grand Master and Katie Beck’s offices. She climbed the stairs slowly. She felt a slight shiver up her spine. Generally when she climbed these stairs she was on her way up for whops.

Earlier in the day Deborah had persuaded her good chum Nixdown Nixon to hack into the computer system and find the pass-code to give her access to Katie’s office. With trembling fingers she punched the four digits into the electronic keypad and let herself in.

Debs went over to the cupboard where Katie Beck kept her leather soled slippers. Deborah took out a tube of super-glue and went to work. She glued the soles of each pair of slippers together rendering them useless for their intended purpose.

She felt quite smug. The collection of leather-soled slippers was Katie’s pride and joy. Of course Debs knew that Katie would find an alternative but nonetheless Debs was sure that she would be apoplectic when she discovered her prized collection had been put out of action. She chuckled to herself and hurried back out onto the landing.

Deborah was only fifty feet from safety when she ran into Melanie White. She gaped at the Dorm Raider. Debs had been certain that by now Melanie would had been ensconced back in the Old Gals quarters sharing a bottle of wine with Cathryn Cassidy.

“M … M … Melanie,” she spluttered. “What are you doing here?”

Melanie was equally flabbergasted to encounter Debs. She was certain that when she had made her last tour of the landings Deborah had been sound asleep.

“I think I should ask you that question Debs,” said Melanie. “What the Dickens are you up to?”

Deborah sighed. “I had some business to attend to,” she muttered.

“Business? What business it’s quarter past twelve?” asked Melanie.

“I’d rather not say,” responded Debs.

Melanie rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You know I have no choice Deborah. I’m sorry but I am obliged to beat you,” she said.

Debs hung her head. “Yes Ma’am,” she muttered.

“This is ridiculous,” muttered Melanie. “I can’t whop you in your study, it would just be too noisy. It would wake up the whole landing. We’ll have to go to the library. Now cut along sharpish. I have some Elite business to take care of before I have time to deal with you. I’ll be along to beat you shortly.”

“Yes Ma’am,” muttered Debs.

Deborah stood facing the wall beside the library door. She leaned her neck forward so that the tip of her nose rested against the wood paneling and raised her arms and placed her hands on her head. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably and her tummy was filled with butterflies.

Deborah Morton was not of a nervous disposition by nature but the prospect of being caned by Melanie was daunting. Although three quarters of a day had elapsed since Deborah’s unpleasant trip across Katie’s knee her bum was still swollen and quite tender to the touch. It was not in the best of shapes to be caned by one of the unit’s most respected martinets.

Debs and Melanie were tight but Deborah knew that wouldn’t help her cause. Melanie was an experienced member of the Elite and she practiced a strict ‘no favorites’ policy and dealt with every gal with exactly the same efficiency and severity.

Debs and Melanie had history. When Melanie had first been appointed as Dorm Raider she had broken her duck by giving Debs six on the silks. Deborah who knew about such things had given Melanie a rave report for technical merit, artistic content and given her nine for the all-important heat factor. Throughout the year Deborah had several more encounters with Melanie’s ashplant and continued to express her admiration for her chum’s efficiency.

On her Debs Diary blog she reported, “I have been caned by dozens of members of the Elite and there are three absolute stand-outs, Patsy Butcher, Claire Brooks and Melanie White. I’m not sure who is hottest but if I had to make a call it would probably be for Melons.”

Debs stared at the wall miserably. In some ways she wished that Melanie would hurry up and get it over with, on the other hand she dreaded the thought of the cane slashing across the seat of her tautened jimjam trews. Deborah had spent many hours of her life facing walls with her hands on her head waiting to be caned. Nonetheless despite her considerable experience it was impossible not to be anxious. The longer she stood there and contemplated her upcoming fate the more anxious she became. Her tummy was churning in a most disagreeable manner by the time Melanie arrived and told her to lower her arms and to follow her into the library.

The two gals padded across the large area reading area of the library. The Grand Master had filled the room with high-speed computers and works-stations. Deborah was a studious cove by nature and had spent many pleasant hours lounging about on the comfortable leather sofa’s while she did research for her assignments.

They reached a second door. Melanie turned the handle and swung it open. She stepped aside to allow Deborah to enter. The back room was a complete contrast. It was dark and shadowy, lit only by the flicker of candles. A fire glowed at the far end in a huge ornamental fireplace. Deborah shivered. There was only one reason for entering this room and over the past six years Deborah had been unfortunate to make over a hundred visits. They had all concluded painfully.

“I’m going to have to ask you to remove your dressing gown, Morton,” said Melanie. While they were in the punishment room Debs understood that they were no longer on first-name terms. It was purely a business matter from hereonin.

“But it’s cold,” Debs said rather lamely.

Melanie didn’t respond and unenthusiastically Deborah undid the sash of the thick toweling robe and set it aside. She stood in her thin black and red striped silk jimjams facing Melanie.

Melanie unfastened the five buttons down the front of her red Elite blazer and shrugged it off. She unfastened the cuffs of her blouse and slowly turned them back. Finally she reached up and undid the top button of her crisp white blouse and loosened her red Elite tie. It was all part of a practiced ritual designed to increase the tension of the moment. Both gals knew the importance of this little ritual. Debs felt her heart rate increasing and ran the tip of her tongue over her dry lips. The moment was closing in on her.

“I need you to bend over in front of the fireplace,” said Melanie not unkindly.

“Yes Ma’am,” muttered Debs. She turned around. It was only a few paces to the fireplace but it seemed considerably further as she trudged along. She stopped a few feet in front of the hearth. She leaned forward at the waist. She stopped when her hands were barely passed her knees. She took a deep breath and finally reached down until her finger tips rested on the tips of her shoes.

Over the past decade and a half Deborah Morton had been required to bend over on literally hundreds of occasions but it never got any easier. It was the dreaded final stage of all the nerve-wracking preparations. She was now presented for the sole purpose of having her bottom whopped with a whippy cane.

Once she was correctly positioned Deborah knew she must clear her head and get into what the Woody Wags termed as the zone. She needed to brace herself so that she could find the courage not to howl or blub. It was the mantra of the mega-minxes that ‘only muffs howl’.

Melons flexed the cane between her hands then stepped in and planted her feet.

“I’m going to need you to put it up and keep it up, Morton,” she told Debs.

Deborah grunted.

Melanie White loved Debs like a sister but she knew that she had to set her emotions aside and get on with the job at hand. She knew from lengthy personal experience that there was absolutely no point in whopping a gal unless you whopped her properly. Giving a whop-hardened minx a few gentle flicks would serve no purpose. Fond though she was of Deborah she was duty bound to lay it on thick.

She tapped the cane down once, twice, thrice and then pulled her arm back and unleashed a screamer.

There was no question that Melanie’s reputation was well deserved. Since being appointed to the Elite she had beaten over a hundred gals and she treated them equally whether friend or foe.

She understood the mechanics of delivering a good, safe thrashing. She did not employ much of a back-swing, relying on a last second flick of the wrist to increase the speed the cane cut through the air to Mach One.

Every caning is a partnership. It was Deborah’s job to present her backside as prominently as possible to allow Melanie a clear shot. It was Melanie’s job to deliver the beating in the safest possible manner. The shaft and tip of the cane had to land directly in the target area known as the sweet spot. There should be no wrap-arounds or high or low riders. It was all about accuracy and control.

The sound of the cane rebounding from tautened silk echoed around the library. Deborah hissed in consternation. The opener had been sensational, the sound of impact exploding in her ears and the excruciating pain imploding beneath the trews of her jimjams. She squeezed her eyes shut and her mouth opened in a silent howl. The effects of the stroke began its cycle.

The shock-wave would start with the immediate searing pain at the moment of impact then the effects of the stroke would spread its tentacles at an electrifying pace, ricocheting around her central nervous system like a pinball making her shudder. The initial nerve-jangling, teeth-chattering, eye-watering sensation would followed by the under-burn settling beneath her scalded flesh and working its way into her gluteus maximus muscles. Her breath came in pants as she tried to gather herself. Deborah Morton was in no doubt that she was in for a hot and sweaty few minutes.

Conventional wisdom is that the perfect six of the best is delivered over five minutes. One minute of preparatory anticipation while the recipient is in position, three minutes of actual caning with the strokes delivered at thirty second intervals, followed by a one minute recovery period before the release command is issued.

However Melanie understood that the toe-touching position was the most difficult to maintain so she had to reduce the cycle time considerably. She caned Deborah at fifteen second intervals, allowing just enough time for each individual stroke to be fully appreciated.

Deborah was not in any position to appreciate Melanie’s fine handiwork. The effect of being whopped across the residual tenderness of the morning slippering was devastating. She could almost feel the weals rising on her flesh and then the strokes slowly blending into a bubbling, steaming cauldron of heat that permeated below her tautened jimjam trews.

“It’s only whops, it’s only whops!” she repeated over and over in her head. Her eyes were burning with unwept tears. She was perspiring profusely. She felt as if she was on fire.

Five strokes in and only the closer left to come. Deborah braced herself and tried to keep calm. “You can take it,” she told herself. Bravely she pushed her bottom up a little higher and waited for Armageddon to arrive.

An expert like Melanie always closed with a five bar gate. The final stroke delivered diagonally across the existing stripes. She adjusted her stance and took a tight grip on the cane. The only sound in the room was Deborah’s breathing which was coming in long impassioned pants. The tension was palpable as both women prepared themselves for the critical moment that would complete the beating. Melanie White raised her arm and brought it down swiping.

Debs wanted to open her lungs and scream the walls down. The final stroke had been delivered to perfection. The pace and accuracy had been an exhibition of consummate cane control. Debs gritted her teeth to suppress the impulse to holler, “It will pass,” she told herself as the shockwaves reverberated from her toes all the way to the tip of her nose. “Sheesh,” she muttered and shook her head in consternation.

“Jeez Melons, I’m still sizzling,” Debs grumbled when she visited Melanie’s study the following morning to have the beating post-processed. “You really do whop hard. That is the hardest you’ve ever caned me. That last one nearly cut me in half. It was an absolute killer. I’m gonna give you a ten on the heat factor scale for the closer and nine point seven five for the overall performance. Jeez Melons I’ve only ever given a pre a nine point seven five once before and that was Patsy Butcher for my first formal house beating, and that was a fucking twelve stroke running bender.”

“I promise I didn’t do anything special,” said Melanie a little defensively. “That’s just the way I always whop.”

“Well you used to be hot and now you sizzle,” said Debs emphatically.

“No hard feelings I hope,” said Melons.

Deborah reached over and hugged her chum. “Of course not. I deserved to be whopped and it’s your job to whop me. Just remind me to keep my bumbags a good distance from your cane in the future.” She smiled weakly and unconsciously reached back and rubbed her bumbags.

Melanie looked surprised. “Now that’s a first. In six years that the only time I’ve ever seen Debs Morton rub in public.”

Deborah took her hand off her bum and flushed slightly, “and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t brag about it. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Melanie White leaned over a hugged Debs. “Your secret is safe with me, sis,” she assured her chum. “Now let’s write-up the beating and then go and get some brekker. Late night whopping always make me hungry.”

Melanie White and Deborah Morton cut through the corridors arm-in-arm on their way to the cafeteria. An outside observer may have found it a tad queer that just a few hours after they had been at the opposite ends of a cane that they would be cheerily heading out for coffee together, but outside observers rarely understand the many mysteries of Woodyworld. 

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

The Miraculous Recovery of Dave Ell and a New Woody Toon

The widely reported life-threatening hangover of the famous ex-patriot artist Dave Ell appears to have been greatly exaggerated. Miraculously like Lazarus he has risen from his pit and managed to crank out another brilliant toon. Unfortunately this has put RH on the critical path to finish the companion story … so here’s a little teaser and watch this space … check back shortly to catch the full story … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Bed-time Beating – Part 1

It is uncharacteristically freezing in Houston which gave me an excuse to put on the fire, pour a glass of red, and write a completely original story from scratch. I’m halfway through and will post Part 2 tomorrow.

I would appreciate it if you would give my collaborator, the wonderfully talented Dave Ell a moment of private thought as reportedly he is suffering from a monumental hangover and has had to take a 24-hour recovery sabbatical before finishing the brand, spanking new Woody Toon that will be the companion piece to this story … bless his poor little Scouser bumbags … don’t worry Dave we will survive and hopefully so will you in order that you will feel suitably rejuvenated to  add your artistic magic to Part 2 of the yarn…. Nonetheless, in his sorry absence I have included some appropriate extracts from previous toons for your entertainment … so kick back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Deborah Morton padded through the darkened corridors in slippered feet. As she turned each corner she peeked around to ensure the coast was clear. The facility had been under lockdown for some time and she was confident that her secret mission would be successfully completed without detection.

Debs was feeling rather smug. For most of the day she had been extremely grumpy as a result of a rather disagreeable engagement in the Matron’s office that she had been obliged to attend earlier in the day. A visit to Katie Beck’s office first thing in the morning was never pleasant but this particular morning Katie had been even more odious than normal. The appointment had been concluded with Deborah sprawled face down across Katie’s lap having her rump pounded with a leather soled slipper.

Deborah’s latest trials and tribulations had actually started twenty-four hours earlier with her ejection from the assembly hall on charges of goofing. It had been a classic Debs moment.

The rules regarding behavior in the assembly hall were explicit. No goofing, gabbing, larking, pranking, pushing, shoving or poking from the moment of ingress to the time of egress. Ms Lawton, the former Grand Dame of the facility, had argued that it was not too much to expect for the inmates to spend this brief period in a state of decorum. Mr Humphries saw no reason to relax the rule.

For inexplicable reasons Deborah had particular difficulty abiding with this simple protocol and held the units record for being evicted. The previous morning she had taken her seat and for several minutes had sat quietly as required. Then, without any good reason she felt it would be a jolly jape to annoy the gal seated directly in front of her by persistently tapping the underside of the cloth covered seat of her chair with her foot. Almost immediately she was spotted by the Red-shirt and shown a red-card  and found herself trudging towards the front of the hall.

Taking up the traditional position of disgrace, standing between the doors to the hall and the steps of the stage she had several minutes to contemplate her latest folly. For the sake of a moment’s mindless activity that had been neither particularly amusing nor satisfying she had sentenced herself to a mandatory twelve-stroke bare bender.

Deborah’s problems were further compounded by the arrival of the Brass. Although most of the Dames either just rolled their eyes or threw her sympathetic smiles Patty Hodge and the Wart barreled down on her gleefully. Debs braced herself for an unsavory ration of tongue pie. Patty grinned wolfishly and very theatrically reached into the pocket of her couture jacket and extracted a red-card. Theatrically she displayed it to the seated inmates before loudly instructing Deborah to book herself an appointment with Katie Beck to be slippered for collar and tie abuse. Deborah groaned. She did her best to glare defiantly at Patty but she could feel her cheeks redden. Momentarily she considered hacking Patty in the shins but thought better of it. She sighed. This was not a good way for a gal to start her day.

The caning was a routine affair involving Deborah bending over the back of a straight-backed chair in the Grand Master’s study with her bumbags concertinaed around her ankles. Deborah was a fully paid up member of what the Woody Wags called the Double Berkeley Society in recognition of the famous Edwardian dominatrix Theresa Berkeley. Ms Berkeley is widely acknowledged as being the originator of the term ‘Six of the best’.

At her popular house of flagellation the famous London Flogging girls such as Miss Ring, One-eyed Peg and Ebony Bet could take dozens of strokes of the birch but complained that extended sessions with the cane took too long to recover from and reduced their business opportunities. Accordingly Berkeley allowed visiting floggers’ six strokes at a fixed price if they chose to beat the girls with the Nilgiri canes she had imported from Eastern India. Additional strokes could be purchased at increasing ad valorem duties.

In an obituary published in the London Times following her death in 1836 she was described as ‘Six of the Best Berkeley’.

In Deborah’s opinion ground rules established by such distinguished historical dignitaries should be respected and had even authored a highly respected treatise on the subject arguing ‘Why six of the best is always the best’. Nonetheless, she had become resigned to the fact that a trip across the back of the infamous straight-backed chair now guaranteed her a full twelve stroke thrashing. It was all most disagreeable.

Deborah spent an uncomfortable day wriggling and squirming on the hard wooden seats of the lecture rooms. A decade and half of having her bumbags peppered with a wide assortment of canes, straps, slippers, hair-brushes and sundry kitchen utensils had taught her some degree of pain management. She did her best not to allow the monotonous throbbing in her rear end to distract her from the tutorials. Occasionally she would make an unconscious movement that would prompt teeth-chattering, eye-watering, nerve-jangling pain to course through her central nervous system and cause her to rue her momentary act of compulsive impulsive behavior. It was all most disagreeable.

She managed to survive the days curriculum of lectures attracting only a minor scolding or two although during the latter part of the final tutorial she was shown a yellow final warning card. She was greatly relieved to hear the last bell.

She availed of her best chum, Rosemary Booker’s, services and spent fifteen minutes spread out across her lap having her bum anointed with Rosie’s mystical balms. Then she spent the remainder of the day doing her best to stay active in the hope that physical activity would stop her gluteus maximus muscles from seizing up uncomfortably which could result in the unfortunate disorder of pygalgia (aka ‘a pain in the arse’) setting in.

At ten o’clock she turned in but had difficulty sleeping. After all she had little to look forward to in the morning except her scheduled meeting with Katie Beck’s slipper.

Most mornings Deborah rose early and went running with her tennis coach Jane Lummell. The only exceptions were when she had a pre-brekker appointment with the unit matron.

Deborah was an attractive young woman but she was perennially clobber challenged. Even in her heyday as one of the nation’s most photographed women she had never been a fashionista, favoring loose fitting leather jackets, jeans and a baseball cap. Her only expensive accessory was her signature cowboy boots that she had custom-made by a craftsman from Texas.

At Woodys she had found the imposed regime of wearing clobber convenient as it meant that she didn’t have to think about her daily wardrobe. Nonetheless, she had considerable difficulties with the many rules, regulations and protocols known as the ‘Politics of Clobber’. Her particular nemesis was the rule that required that the top button of her blouse should be fastened at all times and neatly covered with the knot of her red and black striped tie. “I feel all trussed up,” she was fond of complaining. Her chum, Nixdown Nixon, who was a well-known clothes horse liked to tease her that it was she only purchased ‘catalogue crap’ instead of investing in bespoke clobber.

Her clobber challenges had resulted in Debs being required to beat a path to Katie’s door on numerous occasions. They had developed a healthy dislike for each other.

Instead of joining Jane Lummell for a run Deborah spent some time preparing herself for her pending ordeal. She checked and double checked every seam, hem, stitch and button of her selected clobber to ensure that there was not a single contravention of the Politics of Clobber protocols.

She knew that she was due for a mandatory twelve spanks from the leather slipper and was determined not to give Katie the opportunity to increase her punishment. She dressed carefully, brushing her slightly wavy hair back behind a head band and finally shrugged on her red and black striped blazer. She stood in front of the mirror and examined herself. She used a clothes brush to sweep away a couple of stray hairs before setting off for her engagement.

Katie Beck was waiting. As usual she was dressed in her white skin-tight uniform which she wore unbuttoned to most effectively display her well-formed breasts.

Katie was a creature of exquisite beauty. She was tall and slender with a thick mane of dark hair. She had long legs and an hour-glass figure. Most evenings she could be found propping up the bar of the Bunch of Grapes where she was a popular attraction amongst the local lothario’s. She was also a Class 1 Be-yotch.

Katie had been one of the first Extreme Ladettes to be dispatched to the newly formed Back to School Units. At a highly publicized hearing before the Dark Agents of the System she had been exposed as the only female to sit on the Board of Directors of the notorious criminal gang known as the Confederacy of Yoofs.

She was cunning, devious and about as charming as a snake. These were all personality traits that had made her an instant attraction to Patricia Hodge. Patty was in the market for a candidate to act as Commandant in her blue-print for the initiation of the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers. Katie was the poster-child for the role.

Using her powerful position as Deputy Grand Dame Patty managed to install Katie Beck into the position of Red-shirt. It was a dark period in the lives of the inmates of the facility and would coincide with Deborah beginning her sentence as a Little Brat.

Granted a ‘Licence to Spank’ any Brat she pleased Katie took advantage of Deborah’s clobber challenges and anytime she spotted Debs with a hair out of place Debs immediately ended up over Katie’s knee. It was not a relationship designed for much in the way of sisterly bonding and Deborah understandably grew to dislike Katie intensely.

When Katie returned to the facility with the semi-Brass status of Matron she immediately reconstituted her siege on Deborah’s bumbags, slippering her into third place on the All-Time Clobber Abuse rankings only marginally behind the notorious Scruff and Debs own best chum, Rosemary.

Deborah knew the form. She reached up and placed her hands on her head and linked her fingers as Katie came around the desk to perform Stage 1 of her clobber inspection.

Katie worked at her usual slow pace running her fingers over every seam of the blazer. Debs stared straight ahead, she understood the drill, Katie was just beginning the trying and tiresome ritual. Deborah knew that she had to remain calm and overcome the almost overwhelming compulsion to biff Katie on the hooter.

“Alright, remove your blazer and hang it up,” Katie said finally in an annoyingly imperious tone. “Put your tie over your left shoulder and return your hands to the top of your head,” the matron instructed once Debs had placed the jacket on a hanger.

Debs rolled her eyes but she complied.

Stage 2 of the clobber inspection was tedious. Deborah was certain that her clobber was in pristine condition but nonetheless Katie’s intense inspection of every thread and button was designed to unsettle her. The unit matron was an expert at the process and every now and again she would return to her desk and pick up a jewelers eye-glass and inspect a particular button for signs of chips or unacceptable fading and ageing. She rarely spoke except to interject an odd “tut-tut” or to mutter “oh my what have we here?”. She was especially skilled at working from the rear where Deborah couldn’t see what she was doing. It was all thoroughly disconcerting.

Katie sat behind her desk filling out her check-list. She hadn’t spoken for several minutes. Finally she pushed the paper across the desk.

“You got lucky this morning Morton,” she said Debs. “Sign here.”

Deborah lowered her arms and stepped forward. She picked up the pen and added her initials to indicate that the inspection had been carried out in a satisfactory manner and that she would not be filing an appeal. She tossed the pen down on the table.

“But not as lucky as you think, Morton,” cackled Katie and she slid open a drawer of her desk.

She extracted a white blouse and waved it at Deborah. “You are a complete mess, Morton,” she said nastily. “This blouse is a disgrace. You’re up for double-bubble.”

Deborah gaped in astonishment. The crisp white blouse Katie was waving in the air was covered in ink-stains. Her mind raced and then her heart sank. She knew that she had inspected her clobber when she took it off the previous evening but then Bernadette Summers had stopped by. Debs had just come out of the shower and was preparing for bed when the Bounder came knocking. As usual Bernadette had contracts she wanted Debs to sign. Deborah had been tired and had tried to give Bernadette the bums rush but the Bounder was persistent. Finally Debs had acquiesced and reached for the papers. The Mont Blanc fountain pen that Bernadette had signed had not appeared to work. “Just give it a good shake,” the Bounder had advised.

“Oh good fucking grief,” muttered Debs as she stared at the ink-stained blouse. She hadn’t rechecked her clobber before stuffing it in the laundry bag. She could do nothing but stare hopelessly at Katie Beck.

Katie Beck tucked Debs into the crease of her lap and tugged down her bumbags.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” she chortled and took a tight grip on the leather-soled sandal that she had procured in the Plaka flea-market in Athens. She brought it down with a resounding crack. Deborah Morton was helpless to do anything but mutter and groan.

…. To be continued.

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

A Spanking New Woody Toon – Cedric goes to Woodys

Obviously no self-respecting spanking saga would be complete without the appearance of a whop obsessed parrot. Cedric makes his first appearance at the Woody Back to School Unit in Volume 27 – Woodys Under Fire. In the stories he is actually an African Grey but for artistic purposes we have brightened him up a bit in this fabulous new toon from Dave Ell … I hope you enjoy the toon and the associated story and stay around and have a good rummage around the site … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

Just the usual polite reminder that Woodettes Publications purchased these illustrations along with the copyright. I have no objection to other sites using them as long as they are accompanied by appropriate acknowledgment to the source.

“What is that?” asked Jojo suspiciously.

“That, is Cedric,” said the Grand Master. “He is an African Grey. Spanky Botts has asked us to look after him for a few days. She thinks he will fit in quite well amongst the Woody community.”

“Remove your blazer,” the parrot squawked, “and bend over the chair.”

“Oh good grief,” groaned Jojo, “this is all we need.”

The African Grey parrot had a whitish face, gray body and scarlet tail and seemed quite pleased with himself.

“Bottoms up, swish, thwack, crackety, crack,” said the parrot.

Jojo shook her head in disbelief. “You cannot be serious,” she said.

Mr Humphries just grinned.

Jojo pressed her nose against the wall and linked her hands on top of her head and considered the plans that the Grand Master had for her backside.

Jojo and several of her chums had spent Sunday morning Christmas shopping in town, followed by a leisurely lunch hosted by Mr Humphries at their favorite restaurant, Monets. On the way back to the facility in the stretch limousine Mr Humphries, her fiancé, had informed her that he intended to spend the remainder of the afternoon indulging in some gratuitous spanking. Jojo had no objections to the plan in principle but the parrot was beginning to give her the pip.

“What’s your name,” the avian demanded imperiously.

“Jojo,” she informed him.

“Jojo! Jojo!” squawked the parrot. “Jojo’s going to get benders.”

“Oh good grief,” muttered Joanna.

The Grand Master had been called away on non-gratuitous spanking business. When they had returned to the facility Mr Humphries had received word that several inmates were waiting outside his office in urgent need of the cane following an outbreak of extreme goofing in the recreation area. The Grand Master dispatched Jojo to get changed and instructed her to do a nose and toes session while he was away.

“Nose and toes,” squawked the parrot, “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

Jojo stared at the wall. She had the feeling that she and Cedric were not about to become bosom buddies. She intended to have strong words with Miss Spanky Botts next time she saw her.

“Six of the best,” said the parrot, “and then the rest.”

Jojo had been facing the wall for over forty five minutes by the time the Grand Master returned. Every few minutes the parrot had interjected the proceedings with insightful commentary regarding the future of her bumbags.

“Bumbags down, smack, smack, smack,” he informed her.

Jojo muttered darkly.

“So how has Cedric been behaving himself?” asked the Grand Master cheerfully.

“He is a fount of useful information,” growled Jojo, “and I intend to throttle him quite shortly.”

“Naughty Jojo,” squawked the parrot, “down with her bumbags and over the knee.”

“Grrrrrrrrrrr!” grumbled Joanna.

Jojo sighed gratefully as she spread herself out across Mr Humphries lap. The Grand Master had allowed her to summons Michelle Morgan to take the talking bird away to show off its skills to the other inmates. To Joanna’s way of thinking a long leisurely gratuitous spanking was one thing but a long leisurely gratuitous spanking with the assistance of vocal commentary from a deranged parrot was quite another.

She settled in and wiggled her bum.

“Jojo’s getting a spanking,” Cedric informed the inmates and then hid his face under his wing.

The Woody gals exchanged curious glances.

“He’s Spanky’s pet,” explained Michelle. “What else do you expect? We’re looking after him until she gets back from Switzerland.”

Cedric poked his head up. “Six of the best,” he announced, “and then the rest.”

“Oh good fucking grief,” chorused the inmates.

Cedric cackled and covered his face again.

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

Woodys hits 200,000 and still counting

In the wee small hours of the morning the Woody Back to School Unit entertained guest number 200,000. This may not seem a lot when compared to the larger more image and video orientated sites but I was extremely pleased when the ticker clicked over and is a far greater number than I ever expected to see when I started out eight months ago. So, thank you all so much for visiting. I hope that you all have fun rummaging around the site and will keep coming back.

I would like to give particular shout-outs to the wonderfully generous bloggers who have included me on their blog-rolls and sent traffic my way … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

• The Delightful and Very Generous Bonny over at My Bottom Smarts

• The Original Spankologist Chross at Spanking Resources

• Richard Windsor for hosting the invaluable Spanking Universe and all his other web-sites

• Everybody at the Spanking Bloggers Network

• The ever observant Brushstrokes at the Spanking Spot

• Monsieur Laurent at Le journal de la fessée, who occasionally corrects my French

• London Lad Garth from Behind the Barred Window

• The Infamous Chief at his well-visited Spanking Blog

• Sam Johnson at SpankOz … I hope the new austere Aussie laws don’t close you down

• Cutiepie and her Sexy Spankings; same goes for you CP, good luck regarding the Oz law

• The Inimitable Rascal Paolo in Dublin

• The Charming and Entertaining Lady Karen

• The Wonderful Todd and Suzy at About Spanking

• The One and Only MarQe in his Study

• Ian at the ambitious and entertaining YEOWCH! page

• The hard-working Mitch over at All Things Spanking

• The Gentlemanly James Stephenson

• Good Old Uncle Peter and his Spanking Stories

• The highly amusing and off-the-wall Dante in his Paridiso

• Tiggr at A Spanking Good Time

• Thomas for sharing his Spanking Exploits

• Paul at the long running Spanking Facts and Research

• La fessée conjugale, another great site from France celebrating the Le Vice Anglaise

• Freddie at Simply Slippering who was kind enough to call the Woody Back to School Unit blog Highly Recommended

• John at the highly respected Spanking Review for featuring the Woody Toons in his weekly industry news round-ups

• Our man in Flanders, Prefectdt at Spanked Hortic

• LS at Lurvs Spanking for his astute criticisms and commentary

• Jay Walker at her new home

 

And of course no appreciation list would be complete without a HUGE SHOUT-OUT to my collaborator on the Woody Toons, the inimitable Scouser Dave Ell, who interprets my briefs so brilliantly and breathes life into the characters. Dave is a British artist, currently resident in Thailand, and he is available for commissions at lodgy53@yahoo.co.uk. His prices are very reasonable and he is a great guy to work with. His work is all over the net and can be found on many of the quality art sites.

 

My thanks to all of you and my sincere apologies for those that I might have missed.

 

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

Miss Claire Brooks and the six o’clock swishings

New Years greetings from RH and My Beloved Jojo. Chez Humphries is slowly getting back to normality as the guests begin to leave so regular service will shortly be resumed … in the meantime here is an extract from Volume 23-Stolen Bumbags of the Woody Back to School Unit saga.

This storyline was developed from a single inadvertent comment made by a former female colleague that I like to think of as life’s ‘Vanilla Nuggets’ … you can read more in ‘Did Claire get the Cane?’ … also here is the collector’s edition of one of the original Woody Toon’s developed in collaboration with my great friend Dave Ell … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

In keeping with family tradition Claire Brooks was shipped off to boarding school. Her mother’s alma mater the Woody School had fallen on hard times and closed its doors, so she was dispatched to the exclusive Dayton Manor.

“Everything was extremely polite at Dayton,” Claire recalled. “We communicated a lot through little notelets that we left in each other’s pigeon-holes. We’d get invitations to picnics, folk dancing lessons and etiquette classes.” Claire giggled. “Don’t look at me like that. Yes! I attended my share of fucking etiquette classes. Anyway, I still have my favorite invitation. I had been at the school just a few months when I found a pretty pink envelope placed in my box. I opened it expecting to be invited to a birthday feast or, better still, a polo match. The message inside was neatly hand written.”

“It read, ‘Dear Miss Brooks, You are invited to repair to the House Captain’s quarters to participate in a six o’clock swishing. Yours Faithfully, Monica Rodgers’. Even more bizarrely at the bottom she had written RSVP!”

“You have to admit that’s quite a stylish way to invite someone up to your rooms so that you can beat their arse with a whippy stick,” chuckled Claire.

“Monica Rodgers was a prissy little thing with pigtails and a really big snooter; we used to call her Monc the Conk behind her back,” smiled Claire, “but receiving an invitation to participate in one of her six o’clock swishing’s was a little unnerving. She was rumored to be rather good with the stick.”

“Monc was in a terrible tizzy,” Claire told her audience. “She said that I had a bad case of the dt’s and was getting her house a bad reputation. I couldn’t very well argue; I had taken up permanent residence in the detention room since I arrived at Dayton. She suggested we try a swishing.”

“I had no objection in principle to the suggestion. Ma always told me that she far preferred a swishing to writing boring lines or spending hours in the detention room. So I agreed we should give it a try.” Claire grinned. “She bent me over the back of her sofa and gave me three hot ones, but we all know that is only half a caning, so I felt compelled to go back a few days later and get the other half.”

“Once I was on the swishing circuit I started to get all kinds of interesting invitations. The Headgirl and my House Mistress were both keen for me to stop by. I was becoming rather popular on the circuit and my social calendar started to get rather busy at six o’clock,” continued Claire. “My chums took to calling me Bendover Brooks.”

Claire’s accounts of her shenanigans at the prim and proper boarding school attracted considerable applause. Apparently her former teachers had a lot in common with the Woody Brass. She recounted an episode when she was yanked and spanked. “Nobody had ever been spanked in class before so it came as quite a surprise to be hauled out of my seat and pinned down across my desk. The teacher was a real old battleaxe, a right gargoyle in a dodgy tweed suit. She’s yattering and chattering while she’s walloping me. All of a sudden she stops. Apparently her false gnashers came unstuck and dropped on the floor and one got broken. She held me responsible and I got sent up to the Headgirl for a six o’clock swishing. Imagine that, she breaks her false teeth and I get six of the best. Where’s the justice in that?”

Of course school holidays were equally fun-filled with Claire seeing plenty of hairbrush action. “My sister Jen was becoming extremely competitive,” said Claire, “she’d just been sent up to Dayton and had got a couple of swishing’s. She wanted to make a name for herself and she started sassing Ma at home. I had always been the naughty sister so of course I had to defend my reputation which meant that there was whole lot of spanking going on.”

According to records maintained by the Ministry of Education Claire Brooks ranks as the second most caned school pupil in the nation’s history. She admitted that the specter of expulsion often loomed large but her outstanding achievements as an international class equestrian and the kudos that she brought to the school often saved her bacon, although rarely her arse. However, all good things must come to an end and eventually she would face her Armageddon.

Claire’s account of her somewhat ignominious eviction from the institution earned her considerable sympathy.

She had been caught in a compromising position with a stable-boy, discussing Ugandan affairs. She was hauled up before the Board of Governors.

“They made a terrible fuss, which I thought was rather silly,” she told her chums. “After all it was supposed to be the age of enlightenment and, besides, back in the day everybody was boffing anything in trousers.”

According to the minutes of the Governors Meeting, now available on the internet, one of the board members, a certain Baroness Fielding, demanded that ‘Miss Brooks should be punished with the most extreme gravity. She needs to be chastised in such a manner that will deter our future pupils from indulging in such rampant promiscuity’. It can now be revealed that Baroness Fielding is the younger sister of Melissa Forsham-Smythe.

“I was hauled before the board,” remembers Claire. “This terrible old ogre called Baroness Fielding droned on and on about the gravity of the situation and the shame I had brought on the school. Apparently my greatest crime was that I had got laid while I was wearing my school uniform. I considered explaining that I had actually taken off my clothes while the deed was being done but she didn’t seem much in the mood for listening. She produced this dusty ledger and informed me that according to ancient protocols I was to be horsed and birched. I had no idea what the fuck she was talking about.”

The horse and birch technique had first been introduced in several independent fee-paying schools, reformatories and military installations during the mid-eighteen hundreds. For many years the heinous punishment was limited exclusively to the male genre.

The first recorded horsing and birching of a female occurred during the Great War. Two Red-cross nurses were accused of fraternizing with the Hun and brought before a military tribunal. It was a difficult situation. The British Army had not yet enlisted women into their forces but the nurses were on active duty on the front-line and consequently fell under their disciplinary bailiwick. The two nurses were held at the Convent de Bon Pasteur while the military-men considered what to do with them.

By this time the Lawrence Sisters had passed on and the original Woody School was governed by the Marchioness of St Ives, a whop-hardened veteran and a highly-respected disciplinarian. The army decided she would be an ideal arbitrator of the case. She was smuggled across the channel to preside over the nurses’ hearing. She was appointed two quarter-sergeants as her advisors during the hearing.

The two unfortunate nurses were eventually found guilty. It fell to the Marchioness to deliver their sentence and she found herself faced with a curious dilemma. If a male member of the armed forces was found guilty of similar charges he would be taken to the stockade to be horsed and birched. It seemed wholly reasonable that the two nurses should be subjected to the same fate. However, this presented a problem. The spray birch favored by the military was only truly effective when administered across exposed flesh. The protocols of the Red-cross dictated that when nurses required corporal punishment the beatings should be delivered across the clothed seat.

The nurses remained under guard in the brig while the Marchioness risked her life crossing the channel several times at the dead of night while she attempted to broker a deal.

It seemed that she had reached an impasse. Both the Army and the Red-cross agreed that the horsing and birching sentence was appropriate. The matter of their bumbags remained the only issue to be resolved.

Finally the Marchioness visited the nurses. The convent was cold and miserable and they were confined to their cells twenty-three hours a day. She explained that if she could not reach an agreement soon they might be held there for several years. She proposed a solution.

The two nurses were smuggled back to Britain under the cover of darkness. They were taken to the Woody School and enrolled as mature students. The Marchioness would personally perform the birching’s in the privacy of her study.

The fate of the nurses was widely reported in the press and the ‘Woody Birchings’ would have unfortunate ramifications for a number of schoolgirls over the next twenty years.

According to Ministry of Education records several of the nation’s most prestigious boarding school’s applied for permission to introduce horsing and birching in extreme circumstances. One of those schools was Dayton Manor which Claire would attend.

The record shows that between the wars nearly a hundred luckless schoolgirls were subjected to the ghastly punishment. After the end of the Second World War the practice was largely abandoned.

As a historic footnote, the Marchioness was later presented with new information regarding the nurses fraternization’s and learned that they had bravely helped dying men to go peacefully into the night. She campaigned for their exoneration and eventually they were presented with Medals of Valor by the King.

Claire Brooks was blissfully ignorant of the colorful history of horsing and birching when she was escorted to the Grand Dame’s study by two burly prefects. She wanted nothing better than to get her punishment over with so that she could go and exercise her pony.

Over the next twenty minutes she would become one of the world’s few living experts in one of the most heinous forms of punishment ever devised.

“I was told to remove my blazer and my bumbags which was a little queer as we were never caned on the bare,” Claire told her chums. “Then I was made to mount up on the back of one of the prefects as if we were preparing for a piggy-back race. It was most undignified. She was built like an outdoor brick-shithouse and made Ivan the Terrible look like a waif. The Headgirl grabbed my wrists and yanked me forward so that my chin was over the top of the prefects head and my arse was raised up in the air. The Grand Dame came around and showed me the instrument that I was to be beaten with. I can only remember thinking ‘Holy Fuck’.”

In some ways Claire Brooks had been lucky. The Grand Dame had only succeeded in acquiring a spray birch which generally only weighs in at three to four ounces, as opposed to an Eton birch that is significantly heavier.

Nonetheless, being horsed and birched is not a taste that is easily acquired. With her arms being yanked out of her sockets by the Headgirl and her buttocks being widely spread due to her legs being wrapped around the prefect’s waist Claire Brooks felt like a sitting duck.

The birch was constructed of a bundle of twenty Betula Pendula twigs bound together with a leather handle. The total length of the birch was twenty-eight inches.

“It was a weird sensation,” Claire reported, “the first three strokes seemed relatively harmless. I was far more dismayed at being horsed than I was at being birched. It is the most humiliating feeling. However, as we progressed the cumulative effect of the birching was getting pretty intense. Thankfully, the Grand Dame stopped at six and I was allowed to dismount from the prefects back.”

Claire assumed that her punishment was over but the Grand Dame had another shock in store for her. The Board had voted on a proposal by Baroness Fielding that Claire should be sacked and the Baroness had prevailed.

It was not until years later that it would be revealed as a result of the Snobs and Rotters tribunal that the Baroness’s sinister sister, Melissa Forsham-Smythe, was cynically targeting top equestrians in a plot to get them expelled from the selection pool for the forthcoming Olympics to allow her daughter, Sarah, a free passage to fame and glory.

“Predictably Ma was less than pleased at this turn of events and she triple zinged me in the back of the Bentley before we’d even left the school grounds. That was most disagreeable. Triple zinging’s on top of a well-birched arse are to be avoided at all costs,” said Claire. “Nonetheless when she learned of the Baronesses involvement she went ballistic. Apparently the Baroness had been a prefect at the Woody School and had cut Ma’s bumbags to tatters a time or two. Sorry Sarah, but Ma is almost as tenacious as your mother and she took the Baroness’s head and had her booted off the Board of Governors. Malicious never forgave Ma for beating up on her sister and ten years later that is how the Snobs and Rotters tribunal began.”

Claire entertained her chums for almost two non-stop hours of Whops and Clobber humour. The guests at the feast tickled their ribs and clapped their hands at her revelations of her life-long errantcy. Finally Claire grinned at her pals.

“Shit I need a drink,” she said and then she took them by surprise. Claire Brooks, the ultimate clothes horse, reached up and loosened her tie and unfastened the top button of her tailored blouse.

No sooner had Claire sunk down in a comfortable seat to enjoy a glass of Cristal than the Bounder barreled down on her.

“We’re going commercial,” said Bernadette.

“We’re going commercial?” laughed Claire.

“You’ll need an agent,” insisted the Bounder. “You don’t know the first thing about selling Whops and Clobber Comedy.”

“And you do?” grinned Claire.

The Bounder cocked her head and hooded her jet-black eyes. “For fifteen percent I’ll teach you everything I know,” she said emphatically.

“Oh good fucking grief,” was all Claire Brooks could think of to say.

Nixdown Nixon was furious. “You never told me about this horsing and birching business,” she said accusingly to Claire. “I’ve known you for fifteen years and you’ve kept this a secret?”

Claire looked taken aback. “I was just using it as a point of reference, it wasn’t any fun Nix. I can assure you of that.”

“Well I’ll thank you to let me be the judge of that,” snapped Nixdown. “Now, I’ll need you to sketch up one of these spray birch’s and give the details to Bernadette so she can track one down.”

“You are truly fucking barking,” groaned Claire.

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the newly redesigned Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

A Happy and Prosperous New Year to Y’all from the Woodys Gang

Wishing all our guests and friends in the community a fabulous and whop-filled New Year … Bottoms Up! … RH and Jojo

Welcome back to ‘The Spanking Universe’

Our thanks to Richard Windsor, the host of the spanking community project, ‘The Spanking Universe’, for resuscitating the site after he had been so rudely evicted by the morality gods of Blogger. Please take the time to update your link to the site and be sure to add links to the esteemed Richard Windsor’s other sites.

Also, my thanks to Brushstrokes, over at ‘The Spanking Spot’, for giving the unit a mention and directing some valued traffic in our direction.

RH is not a great one for making New Year’s resolutions (mostly because I rarely keep them) but I do have a few spanking-related objectives as we approach the new decade.

The early part of the year is scheduled to be very work-orientated but I will do my best to update the blog whenever I have time. I will continue to prepare new Toon briefings and commission more original works from my wonderful collaborator Dave Ell and hopefully Woodette Publications will make many more volumes of the Woody Back to School Unit saga available at our bookstore … so much to do and so little time to do it! … My sincere gratitude to everybody who has made this site a success and I hope that I will be able to sustain your interest in 2010 … have to run as the entourage is off out to quaff margaritas and eat fajitas at our local Mexican restaurant … Bottoms Up! … RH

Operation Scorched Arse

My thanks to the many guests who have stopped by during the festive season. I hope that you have had a good rummage around the site and have found plenty to entertain you in my absence. The next wave of house-guests has arrived and my amateur culinary skills are in full flow and ebb. However, I thought that I would take a few minutes and post a few chapters from Volume 2 of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Operation Scorched Arse’ … kick-back and enjoy … full service will resume in the near future … Bottoms Up! … RH

Ms Lawton reviewed the two punishment reports gloomily.

“You knew that Morton had been chucked out of assembly and had just received a mandatory bare bender, didn’t you?” she asked.

Ms Whitton grinned. “Oh yes,” she said smugly. “But you told me to beat her whenever the opportunity arose and she was late for orchestra practice so I gave her a damn good thrashing.”

The Grand Dame sighed. Theoretically the Music Dame was correct. When she had first initiated the harsh regime of Operation Scorched Arse she had specifically instructed the Dames to treat Deborah Morton with extreme prejudice. Nonetheless, as she looked over the two reports again she couldn’t help feeling that Ms Whitton had taken the definition of extreme prejudice to the limit.

“Morton, Phase 5, step up for goofing,” screeched Janet Mitchell, waving her red card in the air.

Deborah rolled her eyes and groaned. She slowly stood up and struggled passed her seated chums. At the end of the row of seats Mitch the Bitch was positively glowing with delight.

“Gotcha,” she gloated as Deborah approached. “And by the way, your tie’s undone,” she cackled.

Deborah groaned again.

She had been standing in disgrace at the front of the hall for almost ten minutes. She had done her best to look nonchalant but from the way she kept pursing her lips and drumming her fingers against the sides of her legs it was clear that she was nervous and agitated.

Debs heart began to pound uncomfortably as she heard the click-clack of heels in the corridor outside the hall. Momentarily the doors swung open and the first members of the Brass entered.

The first wave barely paid her any heed, although several of the liberals, including Dotty Hammell, Pauline Gascoigne, Stephanie Powell and Jane Lummell threw her sympathetic smiles. The last of the Brass to enter were the Wart and Patty Hodge. They strode purposefully towards her.

“Oh you’re going to make Ms Lawton’s day,” gloated the Wart. “I hope she thrashes you so hard you can’t sit down for a week.”

Deborah did her best not to flinch.

Patty grinned wolfishly and reached into her jacket pocket. She produced a red card and waved it in the air.

“Morton, Phase 5, red card for zero-tolerance collar and tie abuse,” she announced gleefully. “Make an appointment with Miss Beck for a mandatory slippering.”

Deborah felt her cheeks turn red.

Deborah Morton was sweating. The past twenty minutes had been most disagreeable. When Ms Lawton had arrived in the assembly hall she was plainly displeased to encounter Deborah and had made her feelings quite clear. She had verbally trashed Debs for several minutes before dismissing her with the ominous warning that she intended to beat her very, very soundly.

Katie Beck had been delighted to see Deborah. The unfortunate state of Debs collar and tie gave the unit’s matron the opportunity to subject her to a comprehensive clobber inspection.

Deborah was notoriously clobber challenged and was consistently ranked amongst the five worst dressed inmates at the facility.

Katie took her time. Deborah stood with her hands on her head as the matron inspected every stitch of her clobber. Katie was a true artiste when it came to inspection. She started at the front, working her way down every individual button, looking for chips, loose threads or signs of premature discoloration. She checked every seam of Deborah’s blouse and skirt. All the while she gave Debs a colorful commentary regarding the rump roasting she planned to give her the following morning.

Moving to the rear Katie was even more spiteful. She tut-tutted as she ran her fingers over more seams and muttered, “well, well and what have we here?” It was most disconcerting.

Bottom inspection was no better. Katie left Debs sprawled bare arsed across the desk in the ante-room for a full five minutes before she came in to prod and pinch her backside.

Finally Deborah was left to stand on the landing, her hands on her head and her nose pressed to the wall while she waited anxiously for the arrival of the Grand Dame. Deborah Morton couldn’t think of a more disagreeable way to start the day.

Deborah Morton was sweating. Ms Lawton was an extremely articulate woman by nature and was at her most expressive when it came to the subject of malfeasance. Unfortunately for Deborah her lengthy history of mega-minxdom gave the Grand Dame copious scope to wax eloquent. Forced to stand to stiff attention, eyes front and still as a statue Deborah had no alternative but to chow down on an unappetizing ration of tongue pie.

Deborah unfastened the top button of her red and black striped blazer and shrugged it off. She felt totally drained. She felt as if she had been mauled by a mountain lion. The eloquent condemnation of her general misbehavior had seemed interminable and Deborah was almost relieved when Ms Lawton finally stepped out from behind her desk and crossed the room to the tall-boy that housed her collection of canes. But the Grand Dame hadn’t quite finished. Deborah groaned inwardly as she was unexpectedly sucker-punched.

“And one more thing, Morton,” announced Ms Lawton as she selected a long thin cane and swished it through the air. “I’m about sick of your persistent collar and tie abuse. I’m going to instruct Katie to give you a double slippering in the morning. Now remove your blazer and bend over the chair.”

Deborah thrust her hands into the pockets of her blazer as she tottered out of the Grand Dames study. There was no question that Ms Lawton had made good on her promise and beaten Deborah very, very soundly. Debs felt as if smoke was billowing out from underneath her skirt. Over the years Deborah’s rear end had become a well-calibrated whopometer but she didn’t need to inspect any gauges to know that she had just been totally nailed.

Ms Lawton took several deep breathes. Deborah was folded over the straight-backed chair in front of the fireplace. The skirt of her skirt and the tail of her blouse were meticulously folded back. Her navy blue gossamer bumbags were concertinaed around her ankles.

The Grand Dame took a tight grip on the thirty-six inch long cane and tapped it downwards.

Ms Lawton prided herself on her even-handedness. She came from the school of hard-whops and knew from bitter experience what it was like to be personally targeted. During the first four years of Deborah’s sentence she had been sympathetic towards her celebrity inmate. She had suspected that Deborah’s spectacular arrest and subsequent trashing in the press had been government vehicles to distract attention from yet another economic folly.

She had admired Deborah’s intellect, musical prowess and sporting brilliance. Despite Deborah’s natural tendency towards naughtiness the Grand Dame had indulged her and treated her as the golden gal. However, all that had changed in one trivial moment of collar and tie abuse and the events that succeeded it. No matter how hard she tried the Grand Dame was forced to concede that Deborah Morton had made a dizzying descent to the role of her personal bête noire.

She raised her arm slightly higher than normal and whipped the rattan rod through the air.

Deborah was having considerable difficulty putting it up and keeping it up. Ms Lawton always caned hard but this morning she was really putting her arm into it and every full-bloodied swipe made Debs teeth-chatter and her nerve-endings jangle. It took all her grit and determination to keep from howling.

Despite their differences Ms Lawton had considerable respect for Deborah’s ability to take a licking with the minimum of fuss. She waited patiently between strokes, confident that Deborah would eventually settle back into the required position for the thrashing to proceed. Nonetheless, she could tell from the protracted wiggling and jiggling of Deborah’s buttocks and the heartfelt pants she could hear her victim emitting that she had thoroughly nailed Debs Morton.

Debs wriggled through the corridors, her arse on fire. It was Saturday morning and she needed to go to her study and pick up her clarinet for orchestra practice.

She crossed the quadrangle and making sure that there were no prefects lurking about she slipped behind the accommodation wing and sought out Rosemary’s cigarette stash pile. Debs didn’t really smoke, just one or two a week when she was feeling stressed and with her bum blazing like a furnace she was feeling particularly stressed.

She sucked down on the fag and looked down at her watch. The visit with Ms Lawton had been so protracted that she had missed almost half the practice. Nonetheless she wasn’t too concerned. The piece that Ms Whitton had chosen for the recital was familiar and the last two rehearsals had gone swimmingly. She stubbed out her fag and flicked it into a nearby compost heap.

She headed back to the front door of the accommodation wing to fetch her clarinet and wished that her arse didn’t burn so ferociously.

“I’m sorry I’m late Ma’am,” Deborah muttered and hurried towards the empty seat amongst the orchestra.

“Where do you think you’re going?” snapped Ms Whitton.

“To take my place Ma’am,” responded Debs.

“Oh no you don’t young lady, you will repair to the music room and bring me the Morton Special” said the Music Dame.

Deborah gaped at the instructor incredulously. “Whadaya mean?” she spluttered.

“You’re late,” said Ms Whitton imperiously. “Mandatory six of the best.”

Debs continued to gape. “But you know why I’m late,” she gasped. “I was in the Grand Dame’s study.”

“That’s no excuse, this whole rehearsal has been a fiasco due to your selfish behavior,” retorted Ms Whitton, “now do as you’re told and bring me my bow.”

“This is ridiculous,” Debs snapped back. “You’re not going to beat me for this.”

“Are you refusing to obey me?” asked Ms Whitton.

“You’re damn right I am,” said Debs obstinately.

“Very well Morton, I shall send someone else to fetch the bow and in the meantime I shall summons Jacqueline Ivanhoe and Yvonne Godfrey and I will have you held down.”

The tension in the Great Hall was palpable.

“You rotten fucking bitch,” Debs blurted out. “This is so fucking bogus.”

“I’ll count to five Miss Morton, it’s your choice.”

Deborah trudged through the corridors carrying the wooden violin bow that Ms Whitton had commissioned for the sole purpose of beating her. Her mind was racing; the heat in her backside was showing no signs of diminishing. The prospect of being thrashed with the customized rod was unthinkable.

Deborah desperately fought back her tears. The pain was excruciating. She was sprawled out across a low lying piano stool, her arms and legs stretched out into a full drape, her head well down and her arse well up. She sensed the Music Dame stepping in for the final swipe and squeezed her eyes tight.

Ms Whitton was a burly cove and was notorious for the venom with which she wielded the violin bow. When she commissioned the particular bow that she was wielding from a purveyor in Southern Brazil she had specified an unusual stiffness for the shaft, explaining that it was for display purposes only. It was a truly lethal weapon.

Deborah’s whole body reacted uncontrollably. Her legs kicked back, her hands gripped her head and she writhed so much that she almost rolled off the stool. It was a tremendous strike. The echo of wood rebounding off tautened gossamer reverberated around the far corners of the hall.

Debs looked ashen as she handed over her personal punishment record book for post-processing. The collar and tie that she had restored to a non-abusive condition was now skew-whiff. Her hair looked unkempt and the light trace of mascara she was allowed to wear was smudged across her face.

Wordlessly Ms Whitton annotated the book and then without warning she pointed back at the stool. “Now bend over again,” she said curtly.

Debs mouth opened and her chin wagged but no sounds came out.

“You cussed me out,” snapped Ms Whitton, “now bend over or I shall have you collared and taken up to the Grand Dames and demand you are given a public flogging.”

Deborah Morton gaped at the music instructor. For a moment she said nothing and remained glued to the spot. Then finally she glared defiantly at Ms Whitton.

“You’ll never make me howl and you’ll never make me blub,” she said rebelliously and then hopelessly she leaned down and stretched her body out across the stool.

Ms Lawton removed the cap of her pen and wearily signed her name at the bottom of the two punishment reports. Ms Whitton was looking positively smug as she strutted out of the door. The Grand Dame sighed and put her head in her hands.

“Extreme prejudice,” chortled Ms Whitton in the saloon bar of the Bunch of Grapes. “I redefined extreme. Morton won’t be sitting down comfortably for a month.”

“Good work,” saluted Patty Hodge. She raised her glass in the air. “To Operation Scorched Arse and may it never end.”

Katie Beck, the Wart and Ms Whitton chinked glasses and winked conspiratorially.

The Woody Back to School Unit Christmas Concert

Cooking a turkey is no different from delivering a damn good spanking, if it’s going to be done perfectly then it just takes time and patience … eventually the bird will roast! … Man! That was deep! … but as it is Christmas check out the Woody Christmas concert  and our complete Christmas Toon collection … Bottoms Up! … RH

Bottoms Up from the Woody Gang

My Beloved Jojo and I wish you all our guests the very best for a Happy Christmas and a prosperous New Year.

I’d like to extend a special thanks and my admiration for my friend and collaborator the fabulous illustrator Dave Ell. Dave may be a Scouser but he is still very conscientious and hard-working. He has taken my briefs and breathed life into them, so I thought it would be great to put together a single Toon showing all the many characters he has drawn over the past few months … so without further ado here it is … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

Seasons Greetings from Jojo and Mr Humphries

Happy Holidays from Rosemary, Nixdown and Debs

The holiday season is upon us and family and friends are arriving at Chez Humphries so the Woody Back to School Unit will be taking a short furlough … but first here are some special and original Woody greetings from some of the gang … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

 

The Famous Four – The Deborah Morton Story

Deborah ‘Debs’ Morton … A former professional tennis player and internationally renowned clarinetist. Her sensational arrest by the Dark Agents of the System on the center court at Wimbledon was witnessed by millions of TV viewers around the World.

Long before she embarked upon her seven-year sentence at the Woody facility Debs was intimately familiar with the ominous sound of whippy rattan cutting through the air behind her.

She was schooled at the prestigious but ultra-strict Queensgate Academy, where she was a prolific over-achiever. She routinely scored 158 on the Cattell III B IQ test and was the youngest student ever to be accepted at Camford on a non-scientific based scholarship. At fifteen she published a well received fictional biography of Ann Boleyn’s last night titled ‘Waiting to be Beheaded’. She played clarinet in the National Youth Orchestra and at the age of fifteen she dethroned Rachel Cox as the nation’s number one female tennis player.

Nonetheless, despite these achievements it was her disastrous disciplinary record that attracted the most attention. The Dames at the esteemed academy considered themselves far too refined to actually administer discipline themselves. They practiced a policy whereby miscreant pupils were ‘Put on the Menu’. Gals on the menu were required to present their defenses before the school’s prefectorial body known as the Posh. The Posh had a number of penalties available to them ranging from detentions, impositions, hours of community service, or, in the worst cases, a thrashing with a thirty-six inch long rattan cane known as the ceremonial popping stick.

Deborah suffered from a chronically hyper-active naughty gene and shortly after she entered the acadamy she found herself becoming a regular feature on the evening menu. Deborah chose to practice a potentially reckless and dangerous policy. She refused to plead guilty to any charges, relying on her quick wits and silver-tongue to create enough reasonable doubt in the minds of the Posh to force them to exonerate her. In fairness it was not an altogether unsuccessful strategy. During her first four years at the academy she appeared before the Posh on hundreds of occasions and avoided being sentenced to any form of punishment at an impressive eighty-five per cent of her appearances.

However, her strategy also had a painful downside. According to the rules of the Posh if a gal pleaded not guilty, or refused to enter into a plea bargain, and was eventually unsuccessful in her defense she received a mandatory swishing. Each year as her behavior deteriorated and her appearances before the Posh increased the number of canings Deborah received began to escalate along with the severity of the penalties she attracted.

In her diaries Deborah comments that, “Ma always said that they would beat some sense into me. Well she was certainly right about the beating part but I think they failed on the sense end of the equation”.

Towards the end of her fourth year at the academy she would meet her Armageddon. She established a new record by being ‘Put on the Menu’ by three separate Dames on the same day. With typical bravado Deborah pleaded not guilty to all three charges. She experienced a brief glimmer of hope when it was announced that her first defense was successful but then it went pear-shaped in a heartbeat. She was found guilty on both the other two charges and sentenced to the maximum allowable punishment of nine strokes of the ceremonial popping stick for each offence. The punishments would be administered on successive days with a twenty-four hour cooling off period between them.

It would prove to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. The Grand Dame was determined to curb Deborah’s serial misbehavior and placed her in a special disciplinary program. At the end of each lesson the Dames were required to rank her conduct on a scale of A through E. She was warned that if she scored more than three below average conduct scores in a single week she would be subjected to a mandatory thrashing. The program was not a success and every single Friday evening throughout the school year Deborah Morton was required to report to the Posh HQ where she would bend over the ceremonial popping seat so that she could be beaten by the most senior gal in the school, known as the President of Posh.

By the time she left Queensgate Deborah had been beaten on eighty-three separate occasions and she would gain a certain historical infamy for achieving the unenviable record of being listed in Ministry of Education records dating back to 1850 as the most caned student in national history.

At sixteen years old she was the undisputed number one female tennis player in the country and elected to abandon her education and try her luck on the professional circuit. Standing only five-feet four-inches in stockinged feet she was considered small by the standards of professional tennis players but she soon gained a reputation as a fierce competitor with remarkable concentration and stamina. She favored a deep game, playing from behind the baseline that gave her time to zing her cross-court drives into the far corners of the opponent’s court with uncanny accuracy.

Her dogged determination paid off and at eighteen years old she had climbed into the rankings of the top ten players in the world. She was also rich and famous and amongst the most photographed women in the nation. Along the way, after she had crushed a highly fancied opponent, a journalist had dubbed her ‘Dynamite Debs’; the abbreviation had stuck and she became known universally simply as Debs.

At twenty-years old she was ranked number three in the world and highly sought after to make exhibition appearances. She was invited to appear at the opening of a Las Vegas hotel and play the world’s number one, Saturn Venus, in a one point five million dollar shoot-out. Debs unexpectedly prevailed in a grueling three-setter; it was a victory that would set off a series of events that would prove highly detrimental to the future of her bumbags.

Aware of the restrictive drinking-age laws in Las Vegas the twenty-year old celebrity had secured some dodgy ID from her old school friend, the Bounder. She was photographed sipping a margarita and playing roulette at the Bellagio. The photograph made the gossip pages of newspapers around the world.

The Las Vegas authorities sensibly turned a blind eye and she only received a minor reprimand from the governing tennis bodies, along with a small fine and a two-week suspension for ‘bringing the game into disrepute’. As far as Debs was concerned the matter was closed and she took off on a short holiday.

However, the Dark Agents of the System were always on the look-out for fresh celebrity blood. A million pound bounty was attached to her bumbags.

Upon her return from vacation she was astonished to be arrested and charged with ‘Extreme Ladetting’. Her lawyers worked assiduously in her defense and the lawn tennis association interceded on her behalf. A year earlier they had been forced to sacrifice Debs old rival, Rachel Cox’s, bumbags to a seven year sentence and they argued that it was not in the national interest to lose their number one player. A deal was finally thrashed out and the charges were reduced to ‘Misdemeanor Ladetting’ on the condition that she agreed to a two-year sentence at the lower security Radcliffe Back to School Unit. She would be allowed to play in several tournaments as long as she was chaperoned by a Court Appointed Guardian. Debs had little choice but to agree to the terms.

The last tournament that she would be eligible to play in before starting her sentence was at Wimbledon. During the past two years she had twice reached the quarter finals at the tournament before succumbing. She felt fit and on the top of her form, she had high hopes for the competition.

The nation was captivated as she fought her way to the semi-finals, the first British female to progress as far for over a quarter of a century. She was pitched against her old adversary Saturn Venus. The match is often recalled as one of the finest in Wimbledon’s history. Finally after several hours Saturn managed to overcome Debs resilient defenses to win a place in the final.

The two competitors were shaking hands at the net when two Dark Agents appeared on court brandishing handcuffs. In front of millions of viewers Debs was arrested and led away in bracelets.

She was taken to a secret silo of the System. She was informed that the previous evening she had broken curfew and that the Misdemeanor Ladetting charges were off the table. She was denied counsel or the opportunity to offer a defense. Within hours Debs Morton was at a haberdashery being fitted for clobber.

The charges were entirely bogus but it was not until many years later that the truth would emerge. The Dark Agents had been disillusioned by the paltry ten per-cent of the larger bounty that they had received due to her reduced sentence. On the eve of the semi-final they had tampered with her car while she was enjoying a quiet dinner with friends. With her car disabled she had been forced to seek a cab but had arrived back at her hotel a few minutes after the midnight curfew. She had taken the precaution of calling her Court Appointed Guardian and informing him of her circumstances but he was unavailable. She had left him a voice mail. This evidence was not introduced at her hearing. For a million squids Debs Morton had been stitched up like a kipper.

Out of all of the Famous Four, Debs was best-equipped for the austere rigors of life at the Woody Back to School Unit. In many ways it resembled the Queensgate Academy with its many rules, regulations, protocols and rituals. She was amazed by the facilities available on the sprawling campus and the comprehensive and advanced academic program that Ms Lawton had put in place. She settled in quickly.

However, it was not long before her naughty gene would reemerge and she reverted to her old practices of persistent gabbing, goofing, larking and pranking. After a four year cool-arse sabbatical Debs soon found herself back in the familiar position of having her arse higher than her head.

It was the policy at the facility that during their first year of incarceration the inmates would be routinely punished with over the knee hand spankings. Ms Lawton’s philosophy was that she was charged with socially rehabilitating the nation’s most extreme and rambunctious Ladettes and there was nothing better than a good old-fashioned over the knee bumbag dusting to curb their high-spirits and put them in their place.

Much as she disliked being turned over the knees of the Brass and Elite, after five years of being caned at Queensgate, Debs found the spankings nothing more than a minor inconvenience. She had been befriended by Rosemary, Jojo and Nix and the four chums were highly competitive when it came to the fine art of minxing. By the end of their first year the four chums had established the record as the four most spanked Little Brats in the unit’s history and were universally known around the campus as the Famous Four.

During the first year of her sentence Deborah also became reacquainted with the cane. Having inducted Jojo as the first member of the ‘Beaten Brat Society’ Ms Lawton felt compelled to extend the membership to Debs.

When the Grand Dame had announced that she wished to see Deborah in her office immediately after morning assembly Debs had suspected something was afoot. The use of the word ‘immediately’ was widely understood to be a coded warning that the Grand Dame’s visitor could expect the cane.

When Jojo had received her first caning it had been limited to three strokes, so when Debs reported to Ms Lawton’s office she naturally assumed that she would receive the same treatment. The prospect of being caned again was hardly thrilling but Debs was pragmatic, back at Queensgate the wags had called a threer half a caning. It would smart a bit she figured but she would just suck it up and go on about her business.

Debs was a little miffed the Beak informed her that she had studied her school record and that she didn’t feel that a mere three strokes would have the desired effect and that she intended to give her six of the best.

In some ways Debs was flattered that she was getting more strokes than Jojo. The two chums were highly competitive when it came to whops. Debs was secretly gloating as she bent over the back of the straight backed chair in Ms Lawton’s office.

A few weeks later Debs was mildly miffed when Jojo trumped her. The first two canings had been delivered with the gals bumbags retained. When Jojo was summonsed back for a second dose she became the first Little Brat to receive a six stroke bare bender.

It was a pattern that would repeat itself over the coming years. No matter how hard Debs tried every year Jojo would emerge as the Annual Big BUTT. Debs coveted the title but in private moments would predict that she was destined to always be the bridegroom but never the bride.

Not that Debs had any difficulty in establishing her own mythology and place in Woody lore. She was mercurial and unpredictable by nature and suffered from an acute case of compulsive impulsive behavior syndrome. She had a very unfortunate tendency for inspiring considerable spontaneous ire amongst the Brass and Elite often with spectacular consequences.

On one occasion she irritated the Red-shirt du jour, Liz Lancelot, so greatly that the prefect dragged her over her knee and spanked her in the middle of the crowded recreation area. When Debs foolishly responded by laughing at Elizabeth and muttering ‘didn’t hurt’ the Red-shirt pinned her down across the rim of a fountain, secured a plimsoll and roasted her rump while water from Neptune and his disciples rained down on her head.

On another occasion Ms Lummell dragged her out of the bleachers, slammed her down across a table tennis table and gave her a resounding spanking with a ping pong paddle in front of the startled members of the visiting team.

Perhaps her most famous and infamous moment was an incident known amongst the Woody Wags as ‘the Fabulous Fart’. When she chose to unleash a gargantuan guff Ms Whitton upended her in front of the choir, dragged down her bumbags and gave her a prolonged whipping with a conductor’s baton. It was not amongst Debs Morton’s proudest moments.

She also had an unfortunate habit of making dangerous enemies including Ms Whitton, Patty Hodge, the Wart, Yvonne Godfrey and Mitch the Bitch. She suffered a dizzying fall from Ms Lawton’s grace after she had responded belligerently to being punished for a minor clobber misdemeanor. She was declared Public Enemy Number One and targeted as a hostile. She spent a difficult year with a large target painted on her bumbags. Her personal annus horribilis culminated in her disastrously being chucked out of the chapel on family visitation day, and she also became the first inmate in the unit’s history to be formally flunked for discipline. Her formal flunking would have an unfortunate side-effect.

Chez Morton of Deborah’s youth had been a spank-free zone. Ma Morton was a great believer that corporal punishment should remain in the classroom. However after Debs was formally flunked Ma received a surprise parcel from an old school-friend Ma Brooks. The gift-wrapped box contained a long-handled, oval-headed, wood-backed hairbrush and a note advising Debs mother that ‘there was no problem that can’t be solved with a red bottom’.

The following day at Deborah’s formal flunking hearing in front of the System Ma learned the wisdom of those words. The Dark Agents were cruelly advocating that Debs was reverted to the status of a Little Brat and forced to repeat her complete sentence. This was devastating news for Debs as it would dash any remaining hopes of returning to the professional tennis circuit. In act of inspiration Ma stepped in and saved the day. She put Deborah over her knee and delivered a long and juicy spanking with her newly acquired hairbrush. She promised the panel of Dark Agents that she intended to extend Deborah’s social rehabilitation program during furloughs. The Dark Agents were duly impressed and Deborah escaped without punishment; but at twenty-six years old Deborah Morton found herself introduced to the rigors of domestic discipline.

With the arrival of Mr Humphries as Grand Master of the facility Deborah’s fortunes took a turn for the better. He rescinded her status as Public Enemy Number One and outlawed hostile targeting. After Ms Whitton gave her an umpteenth unwarranted beating with the customized violin bow known as the Morton Special he had her arrested and thrown in chokey.

Life was good for Debs but it was not without its controversial moments. Her persistent misbehavior in the assembly hall finally resulted in her being hauled up onto the stage and given a public spanking. She also became embroiled in a squalid disagreement with Lady Victoria Brompton which resulted in her being taken to the library and treated to a ferocious bare-bottom, hair-brush spanking in front of the assembled Elite.

Fortunately Debs and Vix finally kissed and made up. Victoria first promoted Debs to act as captain of the Red-house and then appointed her to act as Deputy Red-shirt. Later she would be instrumental in securing Deborah’s appointment to the all-powerful position of Red-shirt.

Debs has impressed everybody with the level-headed and even-handed manner that she prosecutes her duties as Red-shirt and seems destined to be remembered as one of the all-time greats.

However Debs being Debs her tenure has been colorful. She has established records as both the most beaten Member of the Elite, and Red-shirt in the unit’s history. She is the only Red-shirt to ever receive a public flogging while in office.

Debs is currently dating a Spanish flamenco guitarist called Pablo. He has made several overtures of marriage. So far she has resisted despite the fact that he puts her over his knee and spanks her every-time she declines.

Debs Morton is scheduled to compete at Wimbledon shortly after her release. She is currently unseeded and considered a rank outsider but you can never tell with the mercurial Miss Morton … Bottoms Up! … RH

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

The Famous Four – The Rosemary Booker Story

Rosemary Booker … Earth Mother to the inmates … before being banged up at the facility Rosie was an internet entrepreneur who sold a range of mystical potions known as Booker’s Balms … she gained public recognition when she was voted ‘Rear of the Year’ in tribute to her notable protuberance. Sensing a red-hot marketing opportunity Rosemary goes on the chat-show circuit where she cheerfully shows off her award-winning rear end encased in skin tight jeans with ‘Booker’s Bum’ prominently embroidered across the seat.

After she is voted ‘Young Internet Entrepreneur’ of the year an unscrupulous company owned by the shadowy billionairess Melissa Forsham-Smythe attempts to purchase Bookers Balms. Rosemary learns that the company intends to transfer the manufacture of the products to areas of the world known for abuse of the child-labor laws and low standards of quality control; she refuses the offer.

Unbeknownst to Rosemary Melissa Forsham-Smythe is the secret puppeteer of an arm of the System known as the ‘Celebrity Goon Squad’. Incensed by Rosemary’s stubborn refusal to sell-out she arranges for a bounty to be placed on Rosemary’s bumbags. Unfortunately for Melissa Rosemary is a quiet cove who is rarely seen dancing on tables at night-spots frequented by the Extreme Ladettes. The Dark Agents are temporarily thwarted in their efforts to secure the bounty.

However, during an interview on a widely viewed TV chat-show Rosemary was asked her opinion of the famously public arrest of the tennis player, Debs Morton. She responded that in her opinion the governments highly publicized ‘Purge of the Extreme Ladettes’ was just plain daft. She was stunned to be served with a summons to appear before a hearing of the System to explain her controversial comment.

Rosemary’s lawyers assured her that the hearing was just a formality. On the eve of the hearing Rosemary stayed at her laboratory working on a new formula for a mystical balm and did not go home until long into the night. As a result she over-slept and was awoken by the sound of her front-door being broken down and her house being swarmed by Dark Agents. She was handcuffed and paraded through the streets in her pajamas in front of reporters and camera-men from the Forsham-Smythe communications network.

Rosemary was charged with ‘Subversive activities and promotion of the Extreme Ladette culture’. She was sentenced to spend seven-years at the Woody Back to School Unit. Her assets were seized and Melissa purchased the company for a few bobs on the squid in an unadvertised auction.

At Woodys she gained instant fame when following her first ferocious spanking she nonchalantly shrugged and surprised her fellow inmates by declaring that she didn’t know what all the fuss was about, after all, ‘it was only whops,’ … her proclamation immediately became the siren mantra of the mega-minxes.

During her sentence she concentrated on perfecting potions designed to alleviate the after-effects of the well-spanked bum … every year hundreds of grateful gals laid themselves out across her lap to have their poor beleaguered bums anointed with her healing balms. The Bounder hounded her to offer the soothing balms at commercial rates but Rosemary refused and continues to provide her mystical balms gratis to the inmates.

For years her apparent insouciance to pain made her a cult-heroine but during the legendary ‘Brooks vs. Booker’ bout during the Great Spank-off she had an unfortunate awakening … startled by the effects of a leather-faced ping-pong paddle pounding her formidable rear end she was forced to concede that ‘whops hurt!’ and conceded the contest … Following her unfortunate revelation she vowed to keep her bumbags out of the firing line of fast moving canes, straps and slippers … nonetheless as a die-hard mega-minx and suffering from chronic clobber-challenges Miss Booker’s well-filled bumbags continue to remain a major attraction to the Whop Junkies on the Radical Right.

Rosemary is currently engaged in an on-line romance with a cyber-lothario known as the Silver Fox. She regularly sends him digital photographic evidence of the aftermath of her encounters with the Woody artillery. There is considerable speculation on the Woody gossvine that they intend to marry upon Rosemary’s release from the unit.

Tomorrow I will complete this series of features on the Famous Four with the life and times of Miss Deborah Morton … until then … Bottoms Up! … RH

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

The Famous Four – The Nixdown Story

Nicola Jane ‘Nixdown’ Nixon … The unit’s self-proclaimed degenerate was no stranger to trouble long before she started her sentence at the Woody Back to School Unit. The daughter of a controversial auteur whose films were generally only screened in the art-houses of Amsterdam, Paris, Rome and Copenhagen she was brought up surrounded by poets, artists and actors. She discovered her taste for the exotic at an early age.

As was the trend with her generation she was shipped off to boarding school to be trained in etiquette and deportment, neither of which she put much value in. Wildly advanced and already borderline promiscuous she earned considerable squids teaching her fellow students the finer arts of french kissing and cunnilingus.

Nicola Jane was belligerent, anti-authoritarian and often downright rude. The refined Dames of the prestigious institute frequently resorted to caning her. Nicola Jane had a profound dislike of being corporally punished and often retaliated by hacking the Dames in the shins or poking them in the eye with her manicured finger-nails.

She was often threatened with expulsion but her wealthy father always intervened donating a new library and an extension to the chemistry lab to avoid his daughters bumbags being booted out onto the street.

However his fortune was unable to save her after she retaliated to another caning by fire-bombing the Headmistress’s car. She was charged with arson and dispatched to finish her education at a state-run reformatory.

Upon her release she began to make music videos and gained some notoriety for their risqué content. She teamed up with her equestrian chum Jojo Heyworth and launched a highly successful multi-media production company.

One evening she arranged to have dinner with a camera-man. He was furious when she arrived several hours late and offered no form of apology. He yanked her over his knees and gave her a damn good spanking. Predictably Nicola Jane did not respond well and slapped his face and hacked him in the shins before stomping out of the flat.

However once she had returned home she found herself curiously aroused by the experience and returned to camera-mans flat and insisted that he Rodger her eyes out.

Her videos began to take on a distinctly BDSM flavor and she often featured herself in the more erotic scenes. She sought out spanking partners of either sex and discovered that she had a penchant for pain in the recreational arena.

Unfortunately the success of her venture with Jojo had attracted the attention of the Dark Agents of the System and a bounty had been placed on her bumbags. The two women were arrested on bogus charges and at twenty-one years old the successful video producer found herself being carted off to a haberdashery to be fitted out for clobber.

Nicola Jane had an unfortunate start to her seven year sentence at the Woody Back to School Unit. She was assigned to grub for the newly-appointed Red-shirt, Katie Beck. Nicola Jane would not have been temperamentally inclined towards grubbing in the best of circumstances so being assigned to act as the personal serf to the cruel and sadistic Katie did not bode for a harmonious relationship.

Katie Beck draped Nicola Jane over her lap and dusted her on a daily basis. When Nicola Jane characteristically responded with a shin-hacking Katie often dragged her over her knees for a second time and illegally yanked her knickers (bumbags) down earning NJ the nickname of Nixdown.

As Nixdown progressed through her sentence she became a respected luminary amongst the subterranean cult of the Mega-minxes. Her glowering belligerence and tendency towards insolence made her a prime target for the whop junkie elements of the Brass and the Elite. Nixdown Nixon was a permanent feature amongst the top ten of the Hall of Shame.

Although Nixdown continued to strongly object to being formally punished she pursued her private penchant for pain passionately. She gained a reputation for rampant promiscuity and targeted senior members of the Elite as her play-mates. Beautiful and beguilingly charming Nixdown was rarely refused. Her late-night trysts in the stables were the worst kept secrets in Woody World.

When Nixdown seduced Penelope Ann Evans nobody expected much to come of it. Penny Ann was the quintessential English rose and quite shy and retiring by nature. Nix by contrast was wild and flamboyant and by some peoples judgment quite possibly certifiably barking.

Penny Ann had been thrust into the spotlight as the surprise appointment as Red-shirt and was having a miserable time of it. She was forced to try to control the units most heinous Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers commanded by the evil Yvonne Godfrey. Penny Ann would have been much happier just be left to tend to her horses.

Penny Ann was an expert equestrian and had captained the championship team that had included Nixdown and Jojo before she was sent to Woodys on bogus drug charges. She had always admired the miniscule blond bombshell but was far too shy to make any overtures. When Nixdown seduced her Penny Ann fell head over heels in love.

Pen’s chums worried for her. Nixdown’s reputation preceded her. It was well known that Nix regularly engaged in ménage et trios’ with the Amazonian Rastafarian Butcher Twins, and was also bedding down with Melons and her gargantuan gazonkas. It was widely suspected that Nixdown merely viewed Penny Ann as another Elite scalp to hang from the elastic waistband of her bumbags. They were certain that Penny Ann’s heart would soon be broken.

Nixdown astonished everyone by abandoning her other lovers and being faithful to Penny Ann and they make a handsome couple. When Penny Ann finished her formal seven-year sentence she elected to remain on campus to study for her vetinarian degree on-line so that she could remain close to her lover.

As Nixdown is fond of saying, “where else is a gal going to get her kix on Nix Sixty-six?”

Drop back tomorrow to learn more about the life and times of Miss Rosemary Booker … its Sunday … mimosa’s for breakfast … kick-back and have a little rummage around the site, there’s lots to see and read … Bottoms Up! … RH

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

The Famous Four – The Jojo Story

The central characters of the Woody Back to School Unit saga are the inmates known as the Famous Four. Over the past months I have posted many stories and cartoons featuring Jojo, Debs, Nixdown and Rosemary. I receive numerous enquiries about them so in response to your questions over the coming few days I shall share their background stories, starting today with Miss Jojo Heyworth …

Joanna ‘Jojo’ Heyworth … Prior to being seized in the notorious government conspiracy known as the ‘Great Purge of the Extreme Ladettes’ Jojo was a successful artist and theatrical producer. While studying for a Fine Arts degree she supplemented her allowance by writing, directing, producing and occasionally even acting in a series of successful fringe theater productions. Her murals and sculptures had been shown at several West End Galleries.

Jojo was also a successful equestrian, riding on the national team that was tipped to secure a shed-load of gongs at the forthcoming Olympics. Her best friend on the squad was Nicola Jane Nixon who was also carving out a name for herself directing risqué music videos.

Jojo and Nicola Jane teamed up and established a highly successful multi-media production company and were soon making out like bandits. The two chums quickly became the toast of the West End party circuit.

Unfortunately the height of their success coincided with another period of fiscal imprudence by the government. Faced with considerable criticism from the Great Unwashed the mandarins of spin were instructed to create a diversion. Bounties on the bumbags of Celebrity Ladettes were increased substantially.

Successful and entrepreneurial young females like Jojo and Nicola Jane made ideal targets for the Dark Agents of the System. The Celebrity Goon Squad monitored their every move and covertly photographed them as they left the hottest night-clubs in the Smoke.

Jojo and Nix were arrested on several occasions and hauled before disciplinary tribunals. They were charged with Misdemeanor Ladetting but even the System was forced to acknowledge that the evidence against them was fragile at best and they were released. However, the Dark Agents were not about to let a pair of substantial bounties go to waste and used their contacts in the conservative press to launch a series of scurrilous attacks on Jojo and Nicola Jane.

The blood-thirsty hacks from the right-wing rags denounced the two chums as degenerates and criticized their high-profile life-styles for influencing and encouraging the perpetuation of the Ladette movement. The accusations were ridiculous but the Great Unwashed is a fickle bunch and immediately demanded action.

Jojo and Nix were arrested again and taken to a secret silo of the System. As there were no actual charges to be brought against them the members of the System’s disciplinary council sat in-camera. Jojo and Nix were denied legal representation or the opportunity to defend themselves and were found guilty of ‘Conspiracy to promote anti-social Ladette behavior amongst the public at large’. They were sentenced to seven years at the Big House without the possibility of parole.

When Jojo had first entered the facility she had been sporting a virgin arse. The school that she had attended had not practiced any form of physical discipline and the home she was raised in was a spank-free zone. Nonetheless that state of affairs would abruptly change as she quickly embraced the subversive teachings of Cat Cassidy’s notorious ‘Manifesto of Mega-minxdom’.

The stunningly beautiful red-head had found a new vocation and raised the standards of goofing, larking and pranking to an art-form. During the first year of her incarceration she established the unit’s record for being spanked in the lecture room’s. It was the first of many records that she would accumulate during her seven-year sentence.

Towards the end of the first year of Jojo’s sentence the Grand Dame, Ms Lawton, responded to the persistent complaints she received from the Brass about her behavior by breaking with tradition and giving her three strokes of the cane. She became the first ‘Beaten Brat’ in the unit’s history.

In her diary Jojo recalls the momentous event. “I found myself bending over the back of a straight-backed chair up in the Beak’s office with my skirt turned back. I heard an ominous whistle from behind me and then felt a sharp shock in my bum. Momentarily I thought that it didn’t hurt too much and then my flesh started to sizzle. In a moment of lucidity I remember thinking I hope there’s not much more where that came from.” Unfortunately for Miss Heyworth there were plenty more whops in her future.

For five consecutive years Jojo Heyworth dominated the annual Bottoms Up Table of Troublemakers awards earning her the ranking of All-time Big BUTT. She became the first inmate to score the coveted Bull when she received fifty punishments during a single year; an accomplishment that she would repeat for three consecutive years. She would receive an awe-inspiring eighteen public floggings and was one of the first inmates to be inducted into the ‘Double Berkeley Society’ (meaning that she will get a mandatory twelve-stroke bare bender whenever she is dispatched to the principal’s office for punishment). She served as an inspiration to all the inmates who aspired to a lifestyle of mega-minxdom.

When Mr Humphries takes over as Grand Master of the facility he is charmed by the gregarious red-headed minx who pays regular visits to his office needing to be whopped. They become romantically entwined and during the last year of his sentence Jojo wears a tiffany engagement ring on a chain around her neck. They are scheduled to be married once Miss Jojo completes her sentence.

Tomorrow discover the dark secrets of the life and times of Miss Nixdown Nixon … until then … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Woodys Five Red Bums Award for Mr Chross

In the ever-expanding world of spanking blogs there are many brilliant and award worthy sites for us spanko’s to surf and enjoy … the Woody Back to School Unit wishes to extend our appreciation to everybody who takes the time and effort to sit at a keyboard and share your stories, anecdotes and pictures with our community … in recognition of his consistent and exceptional contribution to the spanking community we are pleased to endow the legendary spanking chronologist Mr Chross with a Woodys Five Red Bums Award … thanks for all your hard work Chross … Bottoms Up! … RH and Jojo.

 

Free Woody Story Available in PDF Format

I have posted the full version of ‘A Life in the Day of Debs Morton’, in pdf format, complete with illustrations in the Seven Days of Woodys side-bar (and ok there’s only five posts listed!) …I will put it into proper Woody book format when I have time … Also all 26 original Woody Toon’s are available in a Powerpoint presentation, along with the Famous Four Collection … they are quite big files and slow to download but I think they are worth the time … so switch on the hot-tub, open a bottle of red and they’ll be downloaded by the time you’re finished … enjoy … RH

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 10

This is the final installment of my now long-running writing experiment, ‘A Life in the Day of Debs Morton’. The earlier Parts 1-9 are posted in the Seven Days of Woodys sidebar. I am migrating them into pdf format and will eventually compile them into a user friendly book form. It just takes time, which as you all appreciate is always at a premium.

Speaking of books my thanks to those of you who have purchased the first five books of the Woody Back to School saga … I have several more volumes ready for publication but was recently taken by surprise when Lulu, the self-publishing site, announced that it was going to levy another bogus fee on top of their commission resulting in the small profit I previously made on a book being almost entirely eroded. Let’s face it when you sell stories that took months to write for $4.99 a download and end up making almost nothing you have to sell a shed-load of books before you become as rich as JKR (which was of course never the point of the exercise but nonetheless I didn’t write them for Lulu to take all the revenue) … so I am looking for a new outlet that doesn’t suddenly scam me (if one even exists! If anybody has any ideas I’d appreciate hearing them) … well enough bitching about being the impoverished artist starving in my garret … after all it’s mimosa’s and Bloody Mary’s for breakfast day so I invite you to kick-back and enjoy the story … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 10

After supper we are left pretty much to our own devices. As I said earlier Mr Humphries has instituted numerous programs that we can participate in. The current hot project is our planned production of Westside Story which is being produced by our very own Jojo. Joanna was a theatrical director before the Dark Agents got their claws into her and it promises to be a very professional show. I have taken on the responsibility of musical director and am working on a contemporary score. I decide to cut along to the Great Hall and see how preparations are going. There are always gals down there working on the sets or practicing dance routines.

I amble through the corridors taking my time. There are strict no running protocols in the hallways and stairwells and any breach of protocol will result in a trip to the library for six of the best from the Duty Monitor or her assistants.

While we are not in the lecture rooms the Elite is charged with responsibility for administering the facility. Every day one member of the Elite is nominated as Duty Monitor and is supported by several assistants, known as her Watchers. Theoretically their job is merely to make sure that horseplay doesn’t get too raucous and nobody does something daft and gets hurt, to monitor that we don’t stray into areas of the compound that are off-limits, and to break up the occasional scrap. They are granted full thrashing rights and when they are not in the lecture rooms are required to carry a whippy cane, known as an ashplant, with them at all times.

The ashplants are purchased from a specialist outlet in Dublin and shipped in to the facility by the gross. If you go on the purveyor’s web-site they claim that each cane is tested for appropriate whippiness and sharpness of sting prior to shipping. They do not explain exactly how this is achieved, but as the only way these tests could possibly have any value would be to try each cane out in earnest it would seem that there are some very curious employment opportunities in the Emerald Isle.

The role of the Elite has always been controversial. The authority that has been vested in them offers considerable scope for the abuse of power. The greatest controversy centers around an ill-defined offense known as ‘Rubbishing a Pre’. Considering that the rules, regulations and protocols that govern our behavior run to hundreds of pages and are as complex as any legal document it is almost criminal that the term ‘rubbishing’ is left widely open to interpretation by the individual prefect. Abuse of the rubbishing protocols is rampant and never more so than last year.

First I need to just briefly explain the role of the ‘Radical Right’ at the facility. This is a small group of the Brass who are essentially whop junkies and take the administering of corporal punishment to the extreme.

The leader of this group is an odious specimen called Patricia Hodge. Patty is a cruel and sadistic be-yotch. She is very tall and striking. She has flame red-hair and startling green eyes. She adds to her height by wearing three-inch spiked heels and likes to show off her endlessly long legs by wearing calf length skirt slit up the sides. She cuts an imposing figure which she uses to intimidate us inmates.

She pals around with the Wart and Katie Beck, two more odious creatures (Ms Whitton used to be one of her gang before she got her voluminous bumbags chucked in chokey). Their sole raison d’être is to make trouble for us.

Some years ago Katie Beck was an inmate and she somehow finagled her way into being elected Red-shirt. It is widely suspected that this was part of a long-term plan implemented by Patty and that she had been coaching Katie for some time. As soon as she took office Katie let it be known that she intended to cane every inmate in the community during her first hundred days and she achieved that in half the time.

Despite being an evil weasel Katie can be quite charming and she had no shortage of sycophants. She corralled them into the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers, known to us Woody Wags as the ‘SS’ and went on a whopping and spanking spree. Nobody’s bumbags were safe.

The most endangered bumbags in the unit belonged to poor old Nix. She had the misfortune to pull the short straw and was assigned to act as Katie’s Personal Grubby. During the first year of our sentences we are each assigned to a prefect to act has her personal skivvies. In return for our services she is supposed to act as our trainer and mentor, teaching us the ropes and how to best survive our seven year sentences.

One of the most popular training techniques involves putting us over their knees to be ‘draped and dusted’. Now I have to admit I got very fortunate. I was assigned to a prefect called Maria Jones. She had been a fan during my tennis days and she also hated Katie with a passion. During the whole year I grubbed for her she only ever dusted me a couple of times, which was lucky for me as she was incredibly fit and had hands like house-bricks. Man that gal could spank hard!

Nix was not so fortunate. Katie draped and dusted her on a daily basis. She would often illegally yank down Nix’s knickers (bumbags) earning my chum the nickname of Nixdown Nixon. As I have said earlier Nix is a belligerent cove and did not always take her drapings quietly. She regularly retaliated by hacking Katie in the shins or poking her in the eye. Katie knew better than to report Nix to Ms Lawton as her illicit activities would have come under scrutiny, so she just resorted to dusting Nix more often, sometimes several times a day. It was a bad time to be a grubby.

But if we thought Katie’s regime was tough and cruel nothing prepared us for last year. The elevation of Yvonne Godfrey and her cronies to the Elite coincided with Ms Lawton’s declaration of war against the mega-minxes, known as Operation Scorched Arse. It was the classic collision of the constellation and did not bode well for our bumbags.

I remember Yvonne Godfrey’s trial for bribery, corruption, extortion and racketeering; I was still a free woman at the time. The prosecution claimed that she was a senior executive in the notorious criminal gang known as the Confederacy of Yoofs, a charge she vehemently denied. Her cool responses earned her the nick-name of ‘The Ice Maiden’ in the press. Somehow her lawyers managed to broker a deal and the charges were reduced to Extreme Ladetting. She and her cohorts were sentenced to seven years at the facility without the possibility of parole.

In my opinion Yvonne should have been banged up in a high security jail and not entered into a Social Rehabilitation program. Rehabilitating Yvonne has about the same potential of success as teaching your pet snake to juggle. However, the authorities didn’t bother to canvas my opinion in this matter.

Yvonne and cronies were of course ideal candidates for recruitment by Patty and she covertly trained them to become the most heinous SS in the unit’s history. They worked as a team and hunted in packs. The announcement of Operation Scorched Arse allowed them to operate with impunity. Nobody’s bumbags were safe and I was their number one target.

Having the misfortune of being branded Public Enemy Number One and targeted to be treated as a hostile who should be punished ‘with extreme prejudice’ made me cannon fodder for the SS.

During Operation Scorched Arse I received corporal punishment over fifty times. Fifteen of those punishments were delivered directly by members of the SS and they engineered me getting a record-breaking ten bare-bottom hairbrush spankings from the Red-shirt. It was not a good time to be sporting Deborah Morton’s bumbags I can tell you.

Right at the end of the year Ms Lawton finally came to her senses, I don’t know, maybe she had some kind of spiritual epiphany, but on the eve of her shocking resignation she had a treat in store for us.

First she publicly humiliated Yvonne and her gang by stripping them of office and standing them down from the Elite. Then she made another stunning announcement when she declared that Lady Victoria Brompton would fulfill the role of Red-shirt in the forthcoming year.

Lady Vix, as we call her, is a hard-core mega-minx. She has been a permanent fixture in the top five of the Hall of Shame ever since she started her sentence. She is pugnacious and potty-mouthed but she is also the great champion of the underdog. There are many inmates who have been grateful when she has interceded on their behalf when they were being bullied and she is a great and fearless warrior. She has four older brothers and they taught her to box and wrestle. Seeing her sticking up her dukes and delivering a sharp one-two is something to behold. We were all gob-smacked when Ms Lawton announced her promotion but we would later come to understand that the wily old beak knew what she was doing.

Finally Ms Lawton told us that she was taking the Brass and Elite out to dinner and leaving the facility in the charge of Victoria. Without saying so directly she was giving her blessing for us to reap retribution of the sorry arse’s of Yvonne and her cronies, and we did in spectacular style, I can tell you. I hadn’t had so much fun since my old gran got her right titty stuck in the mangle.

I cut across the quad in the direction of the Great Hall. On the way I happen across the Duty Monitor, she merely nods and goes about her business. The Elite presided over by Lady Vix has a very different flavor to last year. She is tough and strong-willed and she prohibits any form of serial or sporting spanking. She abolished the heinous practices of collaring and sweating that had been used liberally by Yvonne and her henchwomen. She exerts her will over the other members of the Elite and is prepared to support her principles with the back of her wooden hairbrush if necessary. Gone are the days of bogus whops, if we are unfortunate enough to be taken upstairs to be licked at least we know we damn well deserve it.

The Hall is pretty full. There are several gals on stage dressed in training tops and sweat pants working on dance routines with Ginger Beckett. Lisa Sutton and her team are painting a large mural of an urban setting on a canvas. Jojo is prowling around with a clip-board taking notes. I go up to the small room at the back of the hall where I have a mixing desk. Nix is there fiddling with her dual Mac’s which she uses to control the lighting and stage sets. She winks at me. I pick up a set of headphones and slip a jump-drive into my laptop and listen to the current version of the soundtrack.

The greatest challenge of being institutionalized is boredom and it is projects such as this that help make it bearable. Jojo has selected to change the theme of the show to Mods and Punk-rockers in the urban Smoke so I have to produce a score and sound to match. I have downloaded hundreds of tracks, many of which I have never heard before, trying to find that balance. It is great fun. Nixdown offers me a fag. I don’t really smoke but I take one anyway and suck on it thoughtfully as I listen to the sounds. In some ways it’s not a bad life.

I stay in the hall for an hour and then decide I should really go back and finish my assignment on Jean Jacques. I say cya to Nix and go back upstairs. Rosemary is seated at one of the two small work-stations in our study. She is tapping away at her laptop. She should be working on assignments but I suspect she is engaged in hot conversation with her on-line lothario, the Silver Fox. I keep trying to tell her that she could avoid a lot of unnecessary whops if she worked first and chatted later but she doesn’t listen, so I don’t waste my breath with another lecture.

I hang my blazer up in the closet and kick off my shoes. I notice that Rosemary has a bottle of Chardonnay in an ice-bucket so I help myself to a glass. Mr Humphries allows us to drink up on the landings as long as we don’t get squiffy. I pad across to my work-station and turn my attention back to JJ.

At 10:30 the first lockdown warning bell sounds. I tell Rosie I’m going to take a shower. I like to go to bed early as I get up at the crack of dawn to go running. She just grunts. I’m pretty sure that she hasn’t done a stroke of work all night but I suppose that’s her business.

I am sound asleep and only vaguely here the last bell at 11:30 that signals official lockdown. There is now a no gabbing, goofing, larking or pranking protocol in place.

During the first four years of our sentences we slept in large dormitories. We had a bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and absolutely no privacy from the other eleven gals who shared the dorm. It was sleeping in the dorms that really made me understand that I had been put in prison. The compound is huge and the buildings are ornate and opulent but once you get to sleep in a public dormitory you know you are in chokey.

The responsibility for ensuring that the lockdown protocols are complied with falls to a prefect known as the ‘Dorm Raider’. For several hours she pads up and down the stairs and prowls the landings looking out for signs of mischief and malfeasance. Anyone caught breaching the protocols is immediately bent over the end of their beds and subjected to a mandatory six of the best.

Despite the risks the dorms were hotbeds of anarchy. We embarked upon endless games of ‘truth or dare’ recklessly risking going to sleep with a sizzling arse just for the hell of it.

Upstairs on the landings that house the two-gal studies of the Phase 5 and 6 inmates we are a little less exposed and have to be quite dumb to manage to get ourselves whopped, but it does happen.

It is around midnight when I feel Rosemary shaking me out of sleep. “Debs”, she hisses, “Come and look at this.”

“Are you barking?” I mutter drowsily. “Look at the time. Go to sleep.”

“I will in a minute, we’re safe, Melons came by a few minutes ago we’re in the dead zone,” she giggles. “You have to see what the Silver Fox has planned for our vacation.”

“I’ll look in the morning,” I hiss irritably. “I need to sleep.”

“It will just take a second,” she says insistently.

“Oh good fucking grief,” I snap but I swing my legs out of the bed. Rosemary and I have been best chums for six years and I know that she will persist. It is better that I just humor her and then she’ll let me get some kip. “This had better be good,” I say threateningly. After she’s right, we’re in a dead zone and Melons won’t be back for probably fifteen minutes.

She has her laptop propped up on her pillow and it’s open at a web-site advertizing nifty holidays in the Caribbean. “Look,” she says, “he’s rented this villa on a private island. It looks stunning.”

I have to admit that I’m impressed. I have always had my suspicions about her on-line suitor but maybe he is the real deal. She clicks down through the site and starts pulling up pictures. I have to confess I am jealous until the door bursts open and Melons strides into the study with her flashlight and cane. At that point I become seriously pissed.

Morosely I retrieve my pillow and place it over the end of my bed and bend over. There is nothing I can do we are totally bang to rights. I am furious. This is so typical. I should never have allowed myself to be in this position. I should just say no but as usual I succumbed to the temptation of momentary gratuitous satisfaction and where has it got me? Face down, arse up over my bed! I will throttle Rosemary with her bumbags in the morning.

This is not a good situation. Melons is a super-star and was a major player on the mega-minx circuit before she joined the Elite. She gets her nickname from her rather prominent mammary glands. She is awfully petite in all other proportions but her gazonkas are absolutely gargantuan. We have always been tight, she was awfully good to me when I first started my sentence and was being castigated by the gutter press. She was very instrumental in enrolling me into the Cult of Mega-minxes and I love her to death but I know one thing, she will not cut us any slack and man can that gal cane hard.

She starts with Rosemary. I watch from my prone position and my heart begins to pump faster. My tummy is doing somersaults. I am beginning to perspire profusely. Every crack of the cane off Rosie’s tautened jimjams brings my turn closer. This is a disaster. My bum had only recently settled down to a manageable and tolerable temperature and in just a few seconds it will be rudely reignited. Woe is me.

She finishes with Rosie and pads over and takes up position next to me. I bury my face in the pillow and wait to be caned. I hear an ominous whistle as the cane cuts through the air and then all hell unleashes in my striped jimjams.

I shall draw a curtain over the details of the beating save to say that it was excruciating. I scuttle back into bed and turn over onto my tummy. I will have to try to get some sleep face downwards. I have to admit this is not the first time that I have been faced with this unpleasant prospect and probably it won’t be the last. Not when you spend every day as a Life in the Day of the bumbags of Debs Morton … zzzz!!!!!!!!!!

The End

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

Dazzling New Woody Toon 26 – The Fountain of Spanks

Despite her staggering IQ Debs Morton is prone to making some rather silly mistakes when it comes to protecting her bumbags. In a previous toon, ‘Spanked in Front of the Guests’, Debs gets a second spanking after she petulantly tells her Ma that the first one didn’t hurt. In today’s toon she makes a similar mistake with Patsy Butcher and suffers the consequences, getting herself drenched in the process.

This toon is loosely based on an episode from ‘Volume 22 – A Man from Berlin’ of the Woody Back to School Unit saga and was previously posted as ‘Take the up and have them Thrashed and a Drenching for Debs’.

I’m never sure where I get the ideas for particular episodes but I assume somewhere in my sub-conscious I was inspired to use the fountain location by this famous spanking scene from Donovan’s Reef where The Duke finally gets tired of Elizabeth Allen’s snooty attitude and settles the matter in an appropriate manner. I’m sure I have seen the video clip somewhere on the net but I couldn’t find it this morning … oh well!

I hope you find the new and completely original toon amusing and enjoy the associated story. My usual thanks to Dave Ell who cranked this one out in double quick time despite a raging hangover … It’s Saturday so crack open a Heineken, kick-back and Enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

Just the usual polite reminder that Woodettes Publications purchased these illustrations along with the copyright. I have no objection to other sites using them as long as they are accompanied by appropriate acknowledgment to the source.

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 9

This is the penultimate installment of my now long-running writing experiment, ‘A Life in the Day of Debs Morton’. The earlier Parts 1-8 are posted in the Seven Days of Woodys sidebar. This week’s second toon has been slightly delayed to due schedule conflicts between Dave Ell and I, but keeping checking back as it should hopefully be posted sometime in the next 48 hours … in the mean-time, kick-back and enjoy the story … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 9

I settle my poor beleaguered bum down on a reasonably comfortable cushioned seat and set to work on an assignment on ‘The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau’, a lot of people find JJ a little dry but he absorbs me and distracts me from my stinging rear end. After an hour of reading and writing notes I hear the click of footsteps on the landing and the next door opening and slamming shut. I guess that Jojo is back from her trip up to the library. I decide I’d better check on her.

I knock gently and stick my head around the door. Jojo has already peeled off her blazer and chucked it on the small couch. She has a fag in her mouth and is lighting it.

“You okay?” I ask. “How was it?”

Jojo shrugs. “Pathetic Be-yotch,” she says grumpily. “She couldn’t whop her way out of a wet paper-bag. Her heart wasn’t really in it.”

I chuckle. “Vix was all over her like a pair of baggy bumbags before she went up to beat you,” I tell my chum.

Jojo grins. She seems sublimely unfazed by the fact that she has recently been upstairs in the library being caned. She is like that, god bless her navy blue, gossamer bumbags.

”Do you need cooling down?” I ask her.

She just grins. “After a whopping from Sally wimpy Cobb, give me a break. I have some self-respect.”

Nixdown ambles into the study. She is still looking grumpy as a result of being thrashed with a two-tailed tawse by the Dyke. I suspect that later tonight she will repair to the stables and take out her irritability of poor Penny Ann’s bum. She can be a rather queer bird in that regard.

I look at my watch. There is still an hour before Callover so I decide to get changed and go and do a quick work-out in the wellness center. I wink at Jojo and cut along to work out on the punch-bag.

Jabbing, punching and kicking at the bag proves to be both an ideal and effective work-out and also has the added benefit of helping to avoid the onset of a curious disorder that is particularly prevalent amongst gals who have recently had their bums whapped with a whippy rattan cane. The disorder is known scientifically as pygalgia but in laymans terms can be translated as ‘a pain in the bum’. In just thirty minutes I work up a healthy perspiration, kick some punch-bag arse, burn off probably 650 calories and most importantly loosen up my bum muscles and divert an uncomfortable dose of pygalgia setting in. Loads of benefits! It is the world’s best remedy for a recently caned bum!

Once I’m showered and change I repair to the hall for Callover. Curfew at the facility is imposed at 6:30 each evening. We are allowed one town-pass a week so that we can take care of personal business like banking (not that any of us have any money, our squids were all seized by the Dark Agents of the System), sending personal gifts or scoring new clobber. There is a bus route which takes about twenty minutes door-to door. Getting to town is a doddle but getting back is sometimes a trial. Even if the buses run on time which is rarely, the traffic is always backed up so it is always nerve-wracking if you leave it until the last bus. Cutting Curfew means mandatory whops from the Duty Dame.

Over the years I have been whopped half a dozen times for being late back from town. Unfortunately these incidents have always coincided with arch Be-yotch’s like Patty Hodge or the Wart being on duty. I end up with my bumbags sizzling just because the buses don’t run on time. Does that seem fair … why doesn’t the transportation minister get whopped? Just a thought!

Callover is just a kind of registration to ensure we are back on campus safe and in one piece. The Callover protocols are less stringent than those that govern morning assembly. A certain amount of gabbing is allowed but obviously no pinching, prodding, shoving or shin-hacking is allowed. Minor goofing, larking and pranking is generally tolerated but serious and over-raucous horseplay can result in you ending up to your bumbags in whops.

Jojo and Nixdown are already in their seats. I slide in next to them. Rosemary is nowhere to be seen. It is almost time for Callover to begin so she is cutting it close. She didn’t tell me that she was going into town and she wasn’t in the study when I dropped off my work-out bag. She is notoriously tardy about time-keeping. I sigh. I hate to think of my best chum getting whopped just because she missed a bus, but at the last moment she bursts through the doors and hurries up to take an empty seat. I breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m here Ma’am,” I respond when Lady Victoria calls my name. It is all very uneventful, everybody is safe and sound and nobody scores any whops so it is time for chow.

Before Mr Humphries took over as Grand Master, the grub here was pretty ghastly, shipped in by outside contractors in big vats. Mostly it was congealed stews complimented with a starter salad of some wilted lettuce and a slice of tomato. Standard government gruel for those of us that they have deemed necessary to hide away behind locked doors. However, Mr Humphries first initiative was to make us self-sufficient and put Dotty Hammell and Cassie Cassy in charge of the kitchens. Wow, what a change!

They both used to run world class kitchens before they ended up at the facility. Cutting out the cost layers of bureaucracy and middlemen they have transformed the quality of nosh all within the same budget. Every night is a gastronomic extravaganza and we’re even allowed a glass of wine to compliment the great food. I select a bowl of mushroom soup, a small shank of roasted lamb served over a risotto and a glass of red and went and sat with my chums.

As usual we chatted about whops. After all three of us had already been caned today so what else would pre-occupy us? The general consensus was that we had all been unlucky and that the decisions could have gone either way. Nixxy was still grumpy but she conceded that the Dyke had been perfectly fair and that muttering dark uttering’s and hexes had been unwise. We raised our glasses and toasted each other. “Bottoms Up Sisters,” grinned Jojo and we all giggled.

To be continued …

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

Fabulous New Woody Toon 25 – Team Morton

So has Debs really become too big for her bumbags? Well not exactly … in the latter stages of the Woody Back to School Unit saga she is preparing to be released from the government correctional facility and hopes to return to the professional tennis Grand Prix circuit. Seven years earlier she had become the first British woman to reach the semi-finals of Wimbledon for over a quarter of a decade. After marginally losing a grueling three-set match she was ambushed by the Dark Agents of the System and unceremoniously publicly arrested .

As she strives to achieve maximum fitness for her return her chums provide a support system known at the facility as Team Morton. Her best chum Rosemary Booker acts as her dietician and imposes a strict regime, including no alcohol from Monday to Friday.

Aware of her mercurial personality and reckless tendencies Debs agrees to sign a contract with each member of Team Morton giving them full spanking rights in the event that she reneges on her contractual obligations … and here are the sensational results.

The cartoon is a variation of an extract from Volume 28 – Magic Bumbags, featured below. Once again I’d like to compliment the fantastic artist Dave Ell on his wonderful interpretation … Enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

  

Just the usual polite reminder that Woodettes Publications purchased these illustrations along with the copyright. I have no objection to other sites using them as long as they are accompanied by appropriate acknowledgment to the source.

“Miss Morton, what are you doing?” gasped Kate.

“Rosemary sent me to stand in the corner,” grumbled Debs.

Kate Faulkner gaped. “But you’re the Red-shirt Ma’am,” she said.

“This is not Red-shirt business, this is Team Morton business,” explained Deborah without moving her nose from the wall. “Be a sweetie and cut along the landing and remind Rosemary. I’ve been here for over an hour and I think she might have forgotten about me.”

“Oh good grief,” gasped Rosemary. “You cannot be serious?”

Kate nodded. “She’s standing in the corner Ma’am. She’s waiting for you to release her.”

“Oh my only Aunt Sally,” said Rosemary disbelievingly.

“Whadya doing?” Debs had wailed as her best chum tipped her over her knee, flipped back her skirt and yanked down her bumbags.

“We have a contract and the ink has hardly dried before you have abused it. This is from me on behalf of Team Morton” snapped Rosemary and brought the wooden hairbrush down with a crack.

“Jeezus,” squealed Debs. “Ow! Ow! Stoppit you lunatic, that hurts! OW! OW! YOW!”

After she had caned Kate Faulkner up in the library Debs had changed into shorts and singlet and gone for a solitary run. Her backside was still throbbing. She could not think of a single legitimate reason that would have possessed her to insist that Christy Cranfield top off the evening by giving her six on the silks. Despite her less than stellar record Deborah Morton had spent the past fifteen years doing her best to elude the constant array of canes, straps, slippers and other artillery that seemed to be constantly preying on her rear end. The idea that she had volunteered to be caned by Christy was bewildering.

“I have just mixed a jigger of vodka martinis,” said Nixdown.

“You know I don’t drink on duty,” sighed Debs. “I just thought you might be able to cast some light on why I should have volunteered for six on the silks.”

Nixdown snorted. “One drink won’t hurt. I’ll fix one really dirty and then we can gab. I heard that there was a helluva a noise coming out of your study last night. Sadly I missed it. I was down in the stables with Penny Ann, but everyone says you must have got one helluva whopping.”

“Christy does good work,” groaned Debs. “Now what was that about a vodka martini?”

“Whadya doing?” wailed Debs.

“We have a contract and the ink has hardly dried before you have abused it. This is from me on behalf of Team Morton” snapped Rosemary and brought the hairbrush down with a crack.

“Jeezus,” squealed Debs. “Ow! Ow! Stoppit you lunatic, that hurts! OW! OW! YOW!”

Nixdown gaped in astonishment. “Go Rosie go!” she mumbled.

Nix and Debs had been kicking back in easy chairs in Deborah’s study when Rosemary had stopped by. Debs had grinned at her best chum and toasted her.

“Bottoms up, sis,” she grinned.

“Yes and yours is going to be young lady,” snapped Rosemary and headed into the bathroom. Nix and Debs exchanged confused glances.

“Come with me,” said Rosemary, grabbing Debs by the wrist and pulling her out of the chair. At first Debs was giggling. “What are you going to do Rosie? Spank me? For one vodka martini? It’s less than a hundred calories?”

“It was one drink this time,” said Rosemary firmly, “but if I let you get away with it, it will be two drinks next time. Now put it up and keep it up!”

“Jeepers, Rosie,” wailed Deborah, “do you really need to use that goddam hairbrush!”

“I most certainly do,” Rosemary said emphatically and brought the brush down with a crack.

“That’s not fucking funny,” yelped Debs. “Quit that! OW! Shit Rosie, that hurt’s! OW!”

“Go and stand in the corner,” snapped Rosemary.

“Yes Ma’am,” muttered Debs.

“Go Rosie,” breathed Nix.

“I signed a contract that gives Team Morton thrashing rights,” explained Debs.

“And who exactly is Team Morton?” asked Kate.

“Coach Lummell of course,” replied Debs. “Rachel is my subject matter expert, Miss Scott and the Butcher Twins are my work-out gurus and Rosie is taking care of my diet.”

Katie’s eyes twinkled. “I’m your bodyguard; does that give me spanking rights too?”

“Oh good grief,” groaned Debs.

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

Too Big for her Bumbags?

Has new found power gone to Debs head? Has she become too big for her bumbags? Toon in tomorrow to find out!!! … Bottoms Up! … RH

The Crack of the Cane

Call me old-fashioned but being a Londoner of a certain age I have always been fascinated by the Crack of the Cane. There is something wonderfully ominous about the swish of well-crafted rattan cutting through the air and rebounding off tautened bumbags with that rotund thwack! … Just a personal observation.

Over the past few months I have been collaborating with the brilliant illustrator Dave Ell on compiling the Woody Toons and I especially appreciate it when he captures that mystical moment of impact, so here’s a little collage of my faves … I am once again diverted by the ungentlemanly pursuit of the much needed green-backs required to keep bread on the table so I have to rush … enjoy the selection … brand new Woody Toons will be available this weekend as usual so keep checking back … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 8

The subject of today’s MBS brunch over at My Bottom Smarts is a discussion on how to make new guests more comfortable and feel welcome. I hope that everybody who visits this site feels at home in the fantasy environment that I have created and would like to express my sincere appreciation to everybody who stops by. Should you have any questions, comments, or suggestions I would be happy to hear from you and encourage you to leave comments. With the proviso that I will not be overly forthcoming about the private and vanilla elements of My Beloved Jojo and I’s life I will be happy to respond and answer most questions.

This is a continuation of my now long-running writing experiment, ‘A Life in the Day of Debs Morton’. The earlier Parts 1-7 are posted in the Seven Days of Woodys sidebar … It’s Sunday, we have survived the Great Houston Blizzard of 2009 so open a bottle of wine, kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 8

Victoria and I watched Jojo stomp across the quadrangle. She is looking pretty displeased at the prospect of a swishing. Behind her Sally Cobb is smirking. I wonder what Jojo could have possibly done to deserve six of the best. Barely fifteen minutes ago I had seen her upstairs in her study where she had been tending to Nixdown’s swollen bum.

“I’ll cya later,” says Lady Victoria, “I hope ya bum cools down soon.” She takes off and barrels down upon Sally. Sally does not look at all pleased at the prospect of being interrogated by the Red-shirt and tries to hurry away but Vix is not easily dissuaded and catches up with her.

Sally Cobb is a rather pathetic individual and widely despised. She was appointed as Captain of the Red House by the Wart and it is no secret that she was recruited by Patty Hodge to act as the Commandant of the Secret Society of Serial Spankers. Unfortunately for Sally Lady Victoria made it quite clear that she would not tolerate any serial spanking on her watch and is willing to impose her will with the back of her wood-backed hairbrush. As a result Sally’s recruitment campaign was a disaster. She is Commandant of a sorority of which she is the sole member and has been ostracized by the other members of the Elite and is treated with contempt by the rest of the community.

I suppose I should feel sorry for her, but I don’t. She was foolish enough to believe Patty’s promises of protection and chose to make a pact with the Devil Be-yotch. She is now caught between the rock and the hard place. Her bumbags are constantly in danger. Patty and her cronies constantly hound her to increase her whop rate but Victoria watches her like a hawk. She can’t win for losing and I have no sympathy for her.

She has beaten me three times this year; all on the direct instructions of the Wart. The Wart is the Mistress of the Red House and acts as Sally’s handler on behalf of Patty. She has the authority to arrange for us to be caned on what is known as ‘House Business’. This is a highly dubious process that relies on the Wart’s erratic interpretations of the protocols contained in the ‘Red House Charter’. There is an appeals process but good luck with that. It’s better to just bend over and suck up the whops regardless of whether you know the charges are bogus.

Not that being beaten by Sally Cobb is particularly tough duty. She just doesn’t have what it takes to deliver a really hot thrashing. That is not to say that it doesn’t smart, even a relatively wimpy swishing is disagreeable, but it is just a minor inconvenience when compared with the heat that can be generated by a true artiste such as last year’s House Captain, Patsy Butcher.

Patsy and I have always been tight. She was an Olympic standard sprinter until she was arrested, along with her twin sister, and banged up for seven years at the unit. She regularly helps me work out and has added valuable mille-seconds to my short sprints. She is a real dote.

Unfortunately Patsy’s period of office coincided with the period when I was at my most vulnerable. I had been assigned the rank as the unit’s ‘Public Enemy Number One’, unfairly in my opinion, and the Brass and the Elite were instructed to treat me with extreme prejudice. This unfortunate status offered the Wart plenty of scope to abuse the House Protocols, even more than usual, and I soon found myself touching my toes in the library waiting to be caned by Patsy.

As I said some gals have what it takes and some gals don’t. Patsy was firmly in the first category. I have had the misfortune of being whopped for a decade and a half and have learned a thing or two. One thing I have learned is that the first stroke of a beating generally sets the tone and tells me how it’s going to go down. The first stroke I ever received from Patsy was an absolute scorcher and I knew I had some hot and sweaty times ahead of me. My suspicions were proven well-founded and she gave me a sizzling swishing. It was the first of several disagreeable encounters with Patsy’s cane, which would include three very unpleasant Formal House Beatings. I have nothing but respect for Patsy’s ability and we remained very good chums. By contrast I have no respect for Sally Cobb and consider her a wimp and a rotter.

I grin to myself. Victoria is clearly quizzing Sally closely. Sally is offering earnest explanations for dispatching Jojo upstairs for whops but she is looking anxious. I chuckle and continue on my spin around the recreation area. My bum is still giving me gyp.

The recreation area is filling up with inmates catching a breath of fresh air after being cooped up all day in the lecture rooms. Some of them are starting up card games or have brought out backgammon boards; others are just mooching about gabbing. A number of my chums stop me and offer their sympathies over my recent whops and ask me how they went down. The common consensus is that Madame Diderot was a little harsh and has no sense of humor.

After lectures are over we have two and a half hours of free-time at our disposal. We have a number of options available. Mr Humphries has instituted numerous extra-curricula projects into the program. I try to participate in as many as possible but mainly I use the free-time to work-out on the tennis courts or in the wellness center. However, I am not in the mood for company so I decide to go back upstairs and crack open the books.

To be continued …

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

Fabulous New Woody Toon 24 – A New Red-shirt

The very popular Toon 22 featured our heroines from the Famous Four participating in a ritual known as being ‘Thrashed into the Elite’. This symbolic ceremony is performed on inmates at the Woody Back to School Unit when they commence the seventh and final year of their incarceration for Extreme Ladetting. This Elite Corps of inmates are considered far enough advanced in their Extreme Social Rehabilitation programs to be given the responsibility of acting as the equivalent of the Brass outside of the lecture rooms, including being granted full thrashing rights.

Mr Humphries was faced with the dilemma of who to select as the new Red-shirt to replace the popular and highly effective Lady Victoria Brompton. Despite their reputations as the world’s finest mega-minxes he is convinced that he should elect one of the Famous Four to fulfill this august role.

He first approaches Jojo but she declines his proposal on the grounds that she is the reigning Big BUTT and would feel hypocritical (actually My Beloved Jojo insisted in this story-line as she has no interest in being on the top end of the cane and didn’t want to read stories along those lines).

Nixdown Nixon also declines the position. Despite her penchant for pain in the recreational arena she is fiercely opposed to formal corporal punishment and feels unable to fulfill the weighty obligations that go along with the office. In reality Nix has no intention of letting anything as mundane as a sense of duty and responsibility to interfere with her trysts in the stables with her lover Penny Ann or her other favored hedonistic indulgences.

It is generally accepted that although Rosemary is widely considered to be the Earth Mother of the unit she is far too soft to take on the heady responsibility of delivering in excess of three hundred whoppings a year.

This leaves the Grand Master with the dilemma of Debs. Despite her prodigious talents Mr Humphries believes that her mercurial and often erratic personality would make her too high-maintenance.

He finally prevails upon Lady Vix, who has elected to enroll in the Old Gal program and stay at the facility to study her law degree on-line, to serve a second term of office. Victoria, sensing Deborah’s secret disappointment agrees on the condition that Debs is appointed her deputy.

Surprisingly despite some personal disciplinary hiccoughs Debs proves to be an exemplary representative of the Elite and is widely respected for her judicious interpretation of the rules, regulations and protocols. Having attended a prestigious boarding school where administering discipline was the role of the prefects she has no difficulty in fulfilling her obligations when it comes to the business of delivering well-deserved whops.

When Lady Victoria decides that she wishes to stand-down citing Red-shirt Burn-out Deborah is finally offered the ultimate Woody accolade and entrusted to take over the unit’s most prestigious position.

Today’s totally original Toon, illustrated as always by the wonderful artist Dave Ell features Debs being required to deliver her first dusting in her new role … I hope that you like it … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

Just the usual polite reminder that Woodettes Publications purchased these illustrations along with the copyright. I have no objection to other sites using them as long as they are accompanied by appropriate acknowledgment to the source.

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 7

Earlier today I posted the fabulous ‘Woody Toon 23 … Debs Dangled’ and I thought it merited some further explanation. So in this new installment of my ‘Life in a Day of …’ writing experiment I thought you should hear it from the horse’s mouth, so over to Debs.

Parts 1-6 are posted in the Seven Days of Woodys sidebar and by the way we have another new Woody Toon ready for posting so set your clocks and check back after midnight … until then kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 7

Mercifully we manage to get through the remainder of the Chemistry tutorial without any further activity from the tawse, although five minutes before the bell I did get shown a yellow card. I was so relieved when the bell rang. As you will remember I am sporting six stripes in my bumbags and following up with a dose of the two-tailed tawse was not high on my agenda. I hurry out of the lab as fast as my legs will carry me.

I cut along to my study and drop off my satchel full of books. I have several assignments I could start on and should really make a trip to the wellness center and work-out. But first I think I shall take a spin around the quadrangle and see if I can’t walk these whops off, they are continuing to give me considerable gyp.

I stick my head around the door of the study Nixdown shares with Jojo. Nix is face down across Jojo’s lap having cooling balms rubbed into her scarlet bum. Predictably she is bitching up a storm about being tawsed. I offer my sympathies and cut along.

The thing about whops is that you mustn’t let them settle in; whenever possible it’s a good idea to keep moving to avoid the muscles tightening up. I stuff my hand into my blazer pockets to avoid any temptation to be caught publicly rubbing. Only muffs rub!

Down in the cloisters I happen across the Bernadette Summers. “Sorry to hear about the whops,” she says cheerily. I assume my caning has already been posted on the ‘Breaking Whops’ section of the GalGab web-site. “I’m offering 10-1 that you’ll score the first Bull of the year,” she tells me.

Bernadette, better known as the Bounder, is the unit’s in-house bookie. We bet on anything but mostly on whops. The Bull she is referring to is scoring fifty punishments in a single year. I have to admit I managed to accomplish this unenviable record last year. Now I did have a bit of a leg-up as Ms Lawton declared me as Public Enemy Number One and painted a large target on my bumbags.

I must confess that 10-1 wouldn’t be a bad punt but we can’t bet on our own bumbags. When Madame Diderot was writing my caning up she numbered it as punishment 47 for the current year. Now there is still six weeks to go before the end of the year and the chances of me not getting the cane three more times are pretty non-existent. There’s very little doubt that before the years out I’ll be gracing the stage again for another public flogging. The real question is who will be the first to score a Bull, me or my good chum Jojo?

Jojo Heyworth is ranked number one on the Bottoms Up Table of Troublemakers, earning her the title of Big BUTT. She is an unbelievably talented minx and has been the Annual Big BUTT for four consecutive years and recently acquired the title of All-Time Big BUTT. Even last year when I was singled out and targeted as a hostile she still managed to nose me out of taking her title by two sets of whops. This year we are whopping it out bumbag to bumbag and the thrashing I just got from Madame nudged me ahead.

I grunt at the Bounder and continue on my way. I am just heading across the quad when Lady Victoria hurries over. She gives me a hug. “Sorry to hear about the whops,” she says sympathetically, “how was it?”

In some avenues of life this might appear to be a queer question but not at Woodys. We constantly gab about whops. We dissect every punishment whop by whop and rate them in terms of artistic merit, technical expertise and of course the all-important heat factor.

“Well at least I’d had a couple of days to recover from …” I trail off. We both know what I’m talking about.

Lady Victoria and I have always been tight but recently our relationship took a temporary nose-dive. Victoria is well-loved and widely admired and her performance as Red-shirt has been exemplary. She is even-handed and treats everybody, friend or foe, with equal fairness.

Unfortunately my behavior in the assembly hall has deteriorated and Victoria has been obliged to red-card me on several occasions. Now I admit that it’s illogical but I got the pip that she doesn’t cut me a little slack. I suffer from a compulsive impulsive behavior syndrome caused by an over-active naughty gene. This causes me to behave recklessly at inappropriate moments. I am convinced that I am possessed by an alter-ego that I call the Imposter who takes me over when my guard is down.

For some reason the Imposter often chooses to present herself during the prelude to assembly and I often find myself indulging in totally futile larks and pranks which are neither any more than a quick adrenalin rush or even particularly funny. In return for these momentary buzz’s I have been shown over a dozen red cards this year alone. Even Mr Humphries who is a tolerant soul and minx-friendly has become mildly irritated by my less than stellar performance and has felt compelled to take unconventional alternative steps in his efforts to curb my erratic behavior. On two occasions he has taken me up onto the stage, put me over his knee and given me a damn good spanking in front of my gawking chums. Quite recently he decided to dispatch me to the library for a double dangling.

For the uninitiated dangling is the term that we use for taking a trip over the Red-shirts knee for a spanking with the ceremonial oval-headed, wood-backed hairbrush. It is called dangling because the spanking stool, first introduced by Queen Be-yotch Katie Beck is so tall that when you are over and up it is impossible to touch the floor on either side. It is a most disquieting sensation.

A standard dangling for an inmate of my seniority is comprised of twelve spanks delivered on the bare bum. This is considered very tough duty. Katie specially selected the size of the head of the ceremonial hairbrushes so that in six spanks they could redden a gal’s arse top to bottom. Needless to say an additional six spanks on an already sizzling bum is no fun. Multiply that by two and it is impossible to express the exponential increase in the pain.

Now for complex reasons, or at least they seemed complex at the time, I got into my head that Victoria had behaved unreasonably. I felt that she could have interceded with the Grand Master on my behalf, or at least if she did proceed with the double dangling she would not lay it on too thick.

I can see now that there was no possible rationale for my expectations, Lady Victoria has a job to do and she would lose the respect of the whole colony of mega-minxes if she went into the slack-cutting business. However at the time when my arse was literally in flames I was not thinking straight.

I refused to be in the same room as Victoria and bitched about her royally to anybody who would listen (which with hindsight was a very small audience). I even got into a contretemps with my closest chums and caused a major rift in the lute between Rosemary, Nix, Jojo and I. Finally Victoria got sick of me bitching about her and we had a confrontation. Lady Victoria is notoriously pugnacious but to her credit she tried to reason with me. I can see now that she wanted to put the whole unfortunate incident behind us but I was not easily placated and gave her a piece of my mind.

I’m not sure what I was thinking but I decided it was appropriate to taunt her that the double dangling hadn’t hurt. “Then we shall try a triple dangling,” she told me coolly. “Meet me in the library in thirty minutes.”

At first I was furious and defiant. After all I am Debs Morton and I can take whatever she cares to dish out. I was going to show her! However as I began to cut through the corridors and stairwells on my way to keep my appointment with the lethal hairbrush some sanity began to return. What was I thinking? The double dangling had been excruciating. I don’t ever remember sporting a hotter, sorer arse. The thought of an even more prolonged spanking was unthinkable, I began to feel quite bilious.

By the time I reached the ominous door to the library I was in a blue funk but I knew I had to maintain a facade of righteous indignation and feigned nonchalance. Plucking up my nerve I stepped into the shadowy room. I was completely unprepared for my reception.

Victoria was not alone. She was seated aloft the spanking stool with her blazer off and her sleeves rolled up. Beside her Cat Cassidy, Melons and Patsy Butcher were standing with their arms folded across their chests. My heart sank. These are some of my best chums but there was no sign of sisterly love. They looked at me with considerable hostility; chums or not they clearly did not approve of me strutting about the place, acting the bollocks and bad-mouthing their beloved Vix.

I shall draw a veil over the intimate details of my triple dangling save to say I took a trip to hell and back. Spank after spank rained down on my poor beleaguered bum and I am not ashamed to say that before the deal was done I opened up my lungs and howled the rafters down! I know, I know, only muffs howl but you try a triple bare bottom spanking with a wood-backed hairbrush and see how you get on!

By the time we were finished I was thoroughly cowed. I hobbled out of the library with my head hung low. I couldn’t bear to look at my chums. I knew that I had just been totally nailed.

I made my way back up to my study, studiously avoiding the eyes of anyone I met on the way. I knew I was a disheveled mess. I hoped that Rosemary would be upstairs. Even though she hasn’t spoken to me since I chewed her out and made her cry I felt certain she would take pity on me and try and cool my bum down with one of her dynamite balms. Unfortunately she was not on the landing. I checked her calendar on her laptop and learned that she was on gardening duty for the next hour. I sighed and considered going next door to see if Jojo or Nix were available for cooling duties but I didn’t really want to have to explain what happened to Nix. She is an ardent Victoria fan and we had already had cross-words over my dispute with the Red-shirt and I didn’t feel up to another argument. Instead I went into the bathroom and very carefully rolled down my bumbags to inspect the damage.

Holy Moley! Over the years I have seen my poor beleaguered bum in some sorry states but that takes the biscuit. To her credit Victoria had concentrated her efforts on the safe zone known as the sweet spot. The crown of my bum was a vivid scarlet and my buttocks looked as if they had swollen up to the size of water-melons, I reached back and could feel the heat with my hands several inches from the throbbing mess. I ran some cold water in to the sink and found a face cloth. I soaked it then squeezed it out before very gingerly dabbing it against the heat. It was a curious sensation and I’m not sure it did any good. Eentually I discarded the cloth and found a towel and gently patted myself dry before rolling up my navy blue bumbags.

I stared at myself in the mirror. I am not known for my sartorial elegance but even by my standards I looked a complete mess. My tie was twisted and the knot had disappeared underneath one of the wings of the collar of my blouse. My make-up was in sad needs of repair and my hair looked like a birds-nest. It is astonishing what can happen to a gal’s appearance during a long, hot and sweaty spanking. I began to try to make myself look at least halfway human when I heard a knock on the door. This was unusual as it would normally be Nix or Jojo stopping by and they never knock. It’s Liberty Hall around here. I wriggled out to see who it was.

I was surprised to find Lady Victoria standing outside on the landing. I was uncertain of what to do. I considered hacking her in the shins or bopping her on the sniffer but she brought her hand out from behind her back and offered me a bunch of freshly cut flowers.

I was flabbergasted. “I think this has gone too far,” she said sweetly. “We’ve been chums for too long for something silly like a spanking to come between us.”

I looked at the flowers she was proffering. I suddenly felt exhausted. I’m not sure I agreed with her that a double dangling is something silly, in fact I considered it to have been extremely serious business but I was too tired to split hairs.

“Let’s see whether we can’t do some damage control,” she said as I accepted her olive branch. “Where does Rosemary keep her balms?” That was three days ago.

Victoria and I stand gabbing about my latest run-in with Madame’s cane when we hear a kafuffle over by the fountain. I look over to see what is going down, just in time to see be-yotch Sally Cobb producing a red card and thrusting it in the face of my chum Jojo.

“Heyworth,” the prefect bawls at the top of her lungs. “Step up to the library I’ll be along to beat you shortly!”

Victoria and I exchange glances. She rolls her eyes. “Sheesh,” she mutters wearily.

To be continued …

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

Debs Dangled in a Stunning New Woody Toon plus ‘A Life in the Day – Part 6’

Today’s original new Toon features poor old Debs going over Lady Victoria Brompton’s knee for damn good spanking. Once again my thanks to Dave Ell for cranking this one out in double quick time … since our return from the Thanksgiving festivities I have been under the cosh on business related activities so I was rather late in sending him the briefing … nonetheless I think that you’ll agree he’s still managed to do another fabulous job.

I’ve also added the latest installment of ‘A Life in the Day of Debs Morton’ (Parts 1-5 are posted in the ‘Seven Days of Woodys’ sidebar … so kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

Before the story, just the usual polite reminder that Woodettes Publications purchased these illustrations along with the copyright. I have no objection to other sites using them as long as they are accompanied by appropriate acknowledgment to the source.

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 6

Holy Moley! The Dyke is all over Nixdown like a badly cut suit and it wasn’t my fault! Now I have to admit that despite the searing pain in my wounded sitmedown I was planning on getting my own back on Nixdown for her earlier sneak attack with her catapult but now that will have to wait. Nixdown is otherwise occupied face down arse up over a high-stool at the front of the laboratory!

I love Nix to death but she can be a belligerent soul and displaying belligerence around the Dyke is a very dodgy proposition, especially if you are wearing Nixdown’s bumbags.

Nixdown is notoriously promiscuous. She boffed her way through most of the Elite before taking up with Penny Ann on a full-time basis. We like to tease Nix that the reason that she is always in trouble with the Dyke is that Phyllis is secretly hankering for some Nixdown action and that lashing her arse with a two-tailed tawse is just her way of making overtures of affection. Nix is fond of telling us that she has high standards and that she’ll never sleep with the enemy.

In fairness to the Dyke, she may be a tough disciplinarian but she is generally an even-handed cove. We had barely taken our seats and started with the lecture before Nix interrupted the proceedings with a pithy aside. Phyllis would have been quite within her rights to immediately reach for her tawse but she elected to show Nix a yellow card instead. Personally I think Nix should have been grateful for escaping with a warning but she just glowered and started muttering her dark Nix hexes, which in my opinion was an unwise course of action. Phyllis MacAllister has zero-tolerance for such nonsense and responded by dispatching Nix to the changing rooms to remove her skirt and bumbags to prepare for a thrashing.

Nixdown only had four minutes allowed to make her preparations. The Dyke is fond of informing us that Roger Bannister ran a mile in four minutes so we should be able to cut along to a nearby changing room and rearrange our clobber in the same time. She fails to acknowledge that if Mr Bannister was on his way for a larruping he might not have been in such a hurry to finish the race.

Nixdown is looking extremely sullen as she folds herself over the stool. Nix is a quirky cove. She revels in her degeneracy and loves to regale us with stories of her late-night shenanigans with Penny Ann which regularly includes her getting her bottom warmed with a leather riding crop. In the recreational theater Nixdown loves to be spanked, however being punished in a formal setting is quite another matter and gives her the pip. Nonetheless she has no choice but to bend over.

Having removed her jacket and loosened her necktie and scarfed down a healthy shot of Famous Grouse the Dyke goes to work with Big Bertha. Nixdown is just an itty-bitty thing, barely five feet tall in her stockinged feet and weighs in at a hundred pounds or less. She has a very pert and compact bum so the long thick tawse covers a lot of surface area with each crack. When Ms Lawton claimed that women are born broad of beam and perfectly designed for six of the best she probably didn’t have lil ol’ Nix in mind.

For the past six years rarely has a day gone past without me witnessing one or the other of my chums getting caned, slippered, strapped or spanked. You’d think I would have become whop-hardened and blasé but I haven’t. It still sends a chill up my spine every-time.

The sound of leather rebounding off tautened nylon echoes around the lab. Ms MacAllister has considerable style when it comes to delivering the tawse. She gives Nix three scorchers before taking a breather and slugging down another few fingers of Grouse. Nix is a tough old bird but she is showing some clear signs of agitation as she hangs upside down waiting for the next onslaught. Her fingers are splaying, her ankles twitching and her bum is squirming slowly.

It is a full two minutes before Phyllis resumes the job at hand. Now that may not seem very long but I can assure you that when you are in Nixdown’s position it will seem like an eternity. I have been there and bought the tee-shirt. I know her mind will be racing. Half of her will be dreading the awful resumption and the other half just wanting to get it over with.

The funny thing is that when I find myself in that position I no longer give the matter of my bum being somewhat ignominiously displayed higher than my head a second thought. It is fifteen years since I first got the cane back at the Queensgate Academy and I still remember how embarrassed I felt when I was bent over the popping seat with my bumbags on display, but I have got over it. At Queensgate I got the cane eighty-three times (I have recently learned that this is a national record!) and have been punished over two-hundred and fifty times since I have been banged up at the facility so showing off my bumbags is now just routine, funny old world.

The Dyke finishes her drink and then polishes Nixdown off with three absolute crackers. Poor old Nix looks a little giddy when she is allowed to return to the vertical but she still manages to look defiant. I cross my fingers and pray that she doesn’t do something reckless like hacking the Dyke in the shins. Nix can be a little volatile in these types of circumstances.

Thankfully Nix just produces her punishment record book and hands it over, but I can tell by the glint in her eyes that she is having dark thoughts. I shift my weight in my seat which proves to be unwise as I am treated to a sharp jolt of pain in my rear end. Watching Nix getting whopped has momentarily distracted me from the searing stripes in my bumbags. It is my turn to scowl. It will be another hour until I will have an opportunity to walk them off. A lot can happen in an hour.

To be continued …

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber and still want to know more about the antics of the World’s greatest mega-mixes then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Publication Page which gives direct access to the five volumes from the Woody Back to School Unit saga that are available for download for the very reasonable sum of $4.99 each. I have included a brief synopsis of the content of each book and of course I have kept the Free Preview Chapters available for your enjoyment.

Jojo and RH … Back from Vacation

My Beloved Jojo and I have finally returned from a wonderful vacation and after settling back into the homestead the Unit will be back up and running. My thanks to all our guests that have been rummaging around the site and particularly to y’all who bought the books available from Woodettes Publications during our absence.

We have commissioned some brand spanking new Woody Toons from Dave Ell and they will be posted as soon as they are ready … please continue to have a good rummage … Bottoms Up! … RH