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Brand New Book and the Fine Art of Being Spanked in Front of the Neighbors

I can only assume that being spanked in front of your card-playing neighbors and the catering staff would be rather undignified … nonetheless the toon featured below has attracted the most hits out of our whole portfolio …’Volume 35 – A Flogging for the Red-Shirt’ reveals the complete story behind this toon … as usual I am in a work crunch but enjoy the book and the toon … they are of course absolutely FREE!!! (plus they are all completely original) … enjoy .. Bottoms Up! … RH

 

Sizzling New Book Coming Soon

‘Volume 35 – A Flogging for the Red-shirt’ will be launched on Wednesday September 8th. The latest FREE installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga is crammed full to the bumbags with spanking action.

Debs learns that her special relationship with her tennis coach Ms Lummell can’t save her from bending over a training beam in the gymnasium to have the tautened seat of her gym shorts walloped with an oversized slipper … Jojo takes a trip across the Grand Masters knee down in the Brat Chamber and gets reacquainted with a George W tawse … Nixdown prevails on Lady Victoria’s hospitality and gets herself dangled down in the dungeons of Brompton Castle … Debs starts and ends the furlough in the same position, stretched out across her Ma’s lap to be zinged with the lethal wood-backed hairbrush … in the interim she has suffered another damn good spanking for sassing Ma, when Debs responded petulantly to the spanking Ma, not unreasonably, responds by hauling her downstairs and spanking her bare bottom in front of the startled house-guests … Lisa Sutton learns that Patty Hodge comes up short in the humor department and has her bumbags cut to tatters with a wye-tipped cane … Katie Beck goes on a slippering spree as a result of the ‘New Clobber Phenomenon’ … Claire Brooks discovers that being the newly-elected Prime Minister’s daughter does not come with a protection detail for her Poor Beleaguered Bumbags … Michelle Morgan is given an exhibition of Debs mastery in the fine art of thrashing … Debs Morton makes Woody history when after embarking on a poorly planned campaign of serial inept minxing she becomes the first Red-shirt in the units history to be confronted with the prospect of a public flogging … all this and much, much more coming on Wednesday.

It’s Sunday so help yourself to a lunch-time Bloody Mary or a mimosa, kick-back and have a rummage about the site … everything is absolutely FREE and unrestricted and we don’t allow intrusive and distracting commercials … so enjoy and drop back by to download the FREE new installment in pdf format … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Sensational New Spanking Toon – One for the JimJam Crowd

I really like this toon … and I think the requests from guests for more caning over the seat of tightly stretched silk jimjams will be thrilled … Once again this is a wonderful example of Dave Ell’s interpretations of my briefings, so as usual my appreciation to Our Man in Phuket … for Brit’s of a certain age you might be able to spot the well-known national treasure that the Ms Lawton character is based upon whose only blemish was that when she was a cub-recorder she was caught unwittingly on camera breaking up laughing at a ‘blooper’ and squealing, rather quaintly I thought, “well fuck me ‘til I fart”, which was considered rather risqué and unfeminine by the Great Unwashed at the time … oh well … sadly I am entertaining an entourage of Whistling Dicks so I have to run … enjoy the toon and I encourage you ever so gently to read the companion book ‘Volume 34 – An Unusual Appointment’ to fully understand the context… otherwise until later … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

Brand Spanking New Volume of the Woody Saga and Who’s That Gal?

As promised here is the latest spank-filled installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 34 – An Unusual Appointment’ absolutely FREE for download in pdf format … check out this teaser from our latest Woody Toon and guess who that poor gal facing the wall might be … you’re in for a suprise and I will post the latest full Woody Toon asap … Unfortunately I am in a work crunch so I gotta run … so just kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Spanking New Book Coming Soon

The latest spank-filled installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 34 – An Unusual Appointment’, will be launched on Wednesday September 1st so set your calendars.

Inside the covers of this new edition … Following her ‘Formal Outing’ as a Spankette Debs Morton is astonished to receive an unusual request from Ms Lawton, the former Grand Dame of the facility … Patty Hodge instructs Yvonne Godfrey to steal the bumbags of the subject of her latest Malicious Obsession … Madame Diderot demonstrates her lack of sense of humor on Claire Brooks squirming bumbags … Michelle Morgan learns what is meant by Double Trouble … Cassie Cassy continues her minxing rampage … Jojo experiences that a quality Kooboo Loontie cane always leaves its mark … Debs gets sent to stand in the corner … Lisa finally experiences the spanking that was always waiting to happen … The Wart is forced to pay the price for her drunken antics … Debs makes Elite history … Detective Inspector Kate Faulkner makes a fatal mistake and the Confederacy of Yoofs attack the unit … can the Woody Gals survive? … You’ll just have to wait and see!

Until then have a good old rummage around the site … there’s plenty to read and see in the Libraries and Galleries … it’s all Absolutely FREE and Commercial FREE … it’s Saturday kick back and have a cold beer or a glass of chilled wine … and Enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Another Quick Visit to Planet Nixdown

Two more brand new chapters of the ongoing ‘A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixon’ series, as usual I have added the complete Work in Progress version to Library II in pdf format for easy downloading … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Chapter 19 – The World’s Greatest Grubby

I go next door and go to the bathroom to fix my make-up. There is no way of persuading Lady Derby that I am perfectly capable of taking a blouse off a hanger and putting it on. She follows me into my study and I can hear her rummaging about in my closet.

Momentarily I hear Rosemary’s voice enquiring whether I am around. I touch up my mascara and go back to the living room. Rosemary is holding a fag in her right hand and a pot of mystical balm in her left.

“I’m on a short smoke break,” she says tightly.

“And you’d like me to dampen down the smoke billowing out of your baggies?” I laugh.

She thrusts the pot in my direction. “Hurry up, I don’t have long and I don’t fancy another trip across Dotty’s knee,” she says tightly.

I take the pot and go and sit down on a bean-bag. She pushes her baggies down around her knees and plonks herself face down across my lap.

I gently ease down her navy blue bumbags and dig into the pot. Over the years I have tended to Rosemary’s bum on numerous occasions but it is still always a thrill to witness the Eighth Wonder of the World up close and personal.

I did not know Rosemary before she was sent to Woodys, she was never a part of the Ladette scene but I knew of her. She was a favorite on the chat show circuit rambling on about alternative medicine and obscure cult philosophies. I doubt anybody could really understand her theories on life in general but they tuned in to cop an eyeful of her famous bum. She had a sponsorship deal with a jeans manufacturer and would bend over for the cameras and display her shapely rear end encased in distressed denim with ‘Booker’s Bum’ embroidered across the seat. She was an instant millionairess, but she fell foul of the System when she told a radio interviewer that she thought that the Anti-Ladette laws were ‘just plain daft’. The Dark Agents do not take criticism well and she was soon being kitted out for clobber. Later, she would learn that Malicious Forsham-Smythe had engineered her arrest in order to steal her company at private auction for a few pennies on the squid.

Rosemary’s bum is still throbbing; being spanked with a wooden spatula will do that for a gal. I work fast, rubbing the soothing balm into the swollen mounds.

Lady Derby peers down at the red bottom. “Wow that must have really smarted,” she gushes enthusiastically, “Way kewl.”

I suspect that Rosemary does not share this opinion and thrusts her buttocks up to encourage me to get on with the job at hand.

“Should I fix you a martini, Ma’am?” she asks Rosemary.

“I’d die for one,” grunts Rosemary, “but I’d better not. If I’m late Dotty will roast me.”

She pushed herself up from my lap and pulled up her bumbags and chef’s baggies. “Thanks Nix,” she mutters and wriggles hurriedly out of the room.

I take off my tie and unbutton my blouse. Derby automatically picks up the fresh garment and holds it out for me.

“Ms Hammell has never spanked me,” she says thoughtfully.

I chuckle. “Of course she hasn’t, you’re the best grubby in the universe and I’m sure that you’re just as diligent when you’re on kitchen duty.”

Derby scowls. “Maybe I’m too diligent for my own good,” she says darkly. “Miss Morton never dusts me. Three months I’ve been in her service and she hasn’t dusted me once since my training spankings.”

“Well that’s not completely true Derby,” I tell her. “I’m sure she’ll cane you tonight after the feast.”

“I know, that’s a lot of fun and very wonderful of course but it’s still not the same as a full-on dusting for being naughty,” she says earnestly. “Perhaps you could have a word in her and Dotty’s shell-likes.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I promised.

Derby ceased scowling and smiled. “Would you like a fresh neck-tie Ma’am,” she asked, “and maybe you would like a martini?”

I must confess that I am generally rather partial to a Saturday lunch-time martini but I shouldn’t really when I’m on duty so I decline Derby’s kind offer. There will be plenty of time to have a few scoops later this evening at the feast in the Great Hall.

Derby busies herself knotting my tie with her nimble fingers, she really is quite astonishing and it doesn’t surprise me that Deborah never finds any reason to put her over her knee.

Of course life for the grubbies has radically changed since the dark ages when we were nothing better than unpaid serfs and sporting spanking was all the rage. Even the more liberal red-shirts turned a blind eye to grubbies taking a trip over their Draper’s knee just for shits and giggles.

Penny Ann tried to bring in some reforms but she was faced with the twin problems of Operation Scorched Arse being in full swing and having to try to control Yvonne Godfrey and her heinous Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers.

Then along came Lady Victoria, the patron saint of grubbies, who outlawed sporting spanking, collaring and sweating and was willing to enforce her will by putting wayward members of the Elite over her knee and walloping them with her trusty hairbrush. Deborah has promised that if she is officially made Red-shirt that she will continue Victoria’s legacy. All in all life for the new generation of grubbies ain’t too shabby.

Derby finishes fussing over me and starts to go back next door to monitor Yvonne and Bitchypoo’s progress. She turns at the door.

“You will remember to have a word with Miss Morton, won’t you?” she says earnestly. As I say she has a few bats loose in the belfry.

Chapter 20 – I Suppose I’m on for a Bender

The recreation area is buzzing with activity but thankfully everything seems relatively peaceful. I happen upon Melons in the cloisters. She has her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her blazer; I ask her how the recovery is coming along.

“I’m still fucking sizzling,” she groans. “I haven’t been whopped for quite some time so I guess my bum is out of condition. Funny how that works, but I guess you wouldn’t know about that would you Miss Nixdown,” she giggles.

Me and Melons used to scene together back before I started to go steady with Pen. She doesn’t usually swing but she couldn’t resist my wily charms. We had a lot of fun. If Rosemary’s bum is the eighth wonder of the world then Melanie’s breasts are the ninth and she is considered to be a tourist attraction for the local lothario’s. She also has an extraordinary right arm and gave me some of the most exquisite canings I have ever had the pleasure of enjoying.

Melons was Cat Cassidy’s running mate back in the glory days of the Extreme Ladettes and was always in the gossip pages of the skank-rags. She is a natural born minx and helped Cat found the Cult of Mega-minxdom. I have witnessed her being publicly flogged on several occasions and she is as tough as nails, so if she is having difficulty getting over the after-effects it must have been a damn fine thrashing.

“It’s a shame that you don’t play away from home any more Nixxy or else I’d invite you up to the Punishment Room and cut your bumbags to tatters to take my mind off my own poor beleaguered bum,” she smiles.

I feel my spine tingle momentarily. The idea is absolutely delicious but I might have some difficulty explaining to Penny Ann how I had come by six hot stripes on my sitmedown so I err on the side of caution and gently choose to decline this very generous offer.

Melanie wrinkles her pretty nose. “Spoilsport,” she grins. “You used to be so much fun.” But I know she is only teasing.

Out of the corner of my eye I spot trouble brewing. Ali Stone is striding purposefully across the rec area and she is loaded for bear. She is carrying a high-powered water squirter, and we are not talking about a puny little pistol, she has a frigging cannon in her hands.

I dash out of the cloisters blowing my whistle and waving my arms. Lisa Sutton turns to see what the commotion is about and she immediately spots Ali barreling down on her. There is no time for evasive action and Ali ignores my whistling and waving. She puts a bead on Lisa and very calmly unleashes gallons of water, soaking poor Lisa from head to toe. Lisa squeals as she is doused in what I can only assume is ice-cold water.

I reach for my red card.

Ali finishes emptying her weapon and then turns and looks at me. “I suppose I’m on for a bender?” she says somewhat unnecessarily.

“Damn right you’re on for a bender,” I tell her. “Now get upstairs to the library and I’ll try and round someone up to beat you.”

She just shrugs and hands me the water cannon. There is clearly a back-story to this incident. Ali Stone is a well-known prankster but I can only assume that this seemingly unprovoked public soaking is retaliation in some ongoing battle.

Lisa looks like a drowned rat and is seething.

“Anything you’d like to share with me?” I ask her.

“I’ll kill that be-yotch,” Lisa rants, “I’ll hang her up by the elastic of her bumbags.”

“I’m afraid that will have to wait,” I tell her, “her bumbags are going to be otherwise engaged in the foreseeable future.”

Lisa scowls and hurries towards the main building to change out of her wet clobber.

I look at my watch. Victoria is still off campus at an interview with a local solicitor she is planning to intern with. Hopefully Debs has nearly finished her training session and can take care of the Ali business. I don’t like to leave gals waiting to be caned for too long, fifteen to twenty minutes is considered the ideal period for private rumination before a licking, but I fancy that Miss Stone will have to wait a little longer this afternoon before she gets to touch her toes.

I am fond of Ali, she is a fun-loving cove who once worked with a troupe of circus clowns and magicians and she knows some amazing sleight of hand tricks. However, her water attack on Lisa had made no attempt at subtlety or deception and clearly she knew that the ambush was going to result in whops. I can only assume that she feels that the small matter of a hot bottom was a price worth paying for reaping her revenge in whatever running feud she was involved in with Lisa.

When you are an inmate at Woodys it is not uncommon to have to consider such trades off’s. Ms Lawton used say that she ran a facility of no-surprises and that we should always be aware of the consequences of our actions. Considering that the only punishment used at the facility is of the corporal variety we know that when we engage in larking, goofing or pranking we run the risk of ending up bending over. Ali Stone knew the risks and knew the consequences so even though I feel like a heel for red-carding her I know that there won’t be any hard feelings.

I locate a grubby and dispatch her to the tennis courts to inform Deborah that Miss Stone is outside the library, waiting to be caned … To Be Continued

Brand New FREE Book Plus a Brand Spanking New Toon

Apologies folks for the later than advertized release of the new installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 33 – A Formal Outing’ but vagaries of travel and business have interrupted normal service … so as a treat I’m adding a brand new spanking toon that compliments the book … am in haste to catch post so enjoy both the book and the cartoon (as usual my compliments and thanks to the artistic legend in his own lunch-time the wonderfully talented Dave Ell) … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

Brand New FREE Book Coming Soon

This week’s installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 33 – A Formal Outing’ will be posted on Wednesday August 25th absolutely FREE for download in pdf format.

This installment is packed with good old fashioned spanking fun and continues to follow the lives of the inmates at the social rehabilitation facility.

Jojo pays a visit to Café Woodys and is availed upon to put up her bumbags for a public thrashing all in the name of charity … Cat Cassidy is disturbed to discover that her new chum, Shaz Morrison, is acting as a mole for the leader of the Confederacy of Yoofs and begins a campaign of feeding the Yoofs disinformation … Lisa Sutton is rather miffed when she is red-carded for providing her fellow inmates with what she considers to be legitimate scientific data … Debs Morton recklessly japes the Dyke and gets up close and personal with the lethal two-tailed tawse … Claire Brooks suffers another hot and sweaty set-back to her reform program … Rosemary Booker contemplates sending a video of her red and swollen bum to her on-line lothario … Penny Ann falls foul of Patty Hodge’s interpretations of the origins of ethics … Nixdown explains the Rasmussen Principle … the Bounder if forced to cane her good chum Cassie Cassy and demonstrates her considerable prowess with the whippy stick … Debs gets reacquainted with the Uzi paddle and then listens to a curious proposal from Jojo … Caroline Cassidy pays her daughters a visit at the Unit … Debs Morton takes a walk on the far side and investigates the effects of partial sensory deprivation while manacled across a vaulting horse … Nixdown Nixon hosts a ‘Put Up or Shut Up’ happening over in the stables … all this a much, much more so check back on Wednesday and enjoy the thrills and spills of life at Woodys … Bottoms Up! … RH

Sometimes You Just Have to Cane Your Best Chum

In today’s brand spanking new toon Bernadette Summers, aka the Bounder, finds herself faced with the unfortunate prospect of having to cane her best chum Lisa Sutton, aka the Minxster. As readers will know the notorious Bad Gal of the Woody Back to School Unit has recently been appointed to the prestigious position of Deputy Red-shirt and she knows that if she is going to maintain the respect of the inmates she cannot be seen to be cutting her chums any slack and gives Lisa a damn good thrashing … as usual Our Man in Phuket, Dave Ell has done a wonderful job with the characterizations (Frame 1 is a wonderful encapsulation of the incorrigible Bounder) … My Beloved Jojo and I will still be on vacation for a few days but I still hope to release the next installment of the Woody Back to School Unit Saga, ‘Volume 33 – A Formal Outing’ on Wednesday next week so be sure to check back … in the mean-time I am off in pursuit of lashings of Moose Drool … so kick-back and enjoy the toon … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

The Agony and the Ecstasy – A Brand Spanking New FREE Book

Hi Guys, this week’s FREE book is a day late due to My Beloved Jojo and RH taking a vacation in a remote, extremely picturesque but technologically challenged region of the US … however better late than never.

The latest spank-filled installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 32 – The Agony and the Ecstasy’ picks up where last week’s book, ‘Volume 31 – A Meeting with Destiny’ left off.

Debs Morton had been alarmed to wake up to find that she was sporting a very ripe set of stripes on her rear end. She learns that the previous evening, while mildly inebriated, she had voluntarily bent over the end of her bed for six on the silks with a lethat super-cane from Christy Cranfield. This unusual turn of events causes Deborah to ponder the possibility that she is possessed by an inner spankette and that for the past decade and half she has sub-consciously been putting her bumbags in the way of fast moving canes, slippers and straps on purpose. In an effort to solve this mystery she engages the services of her good chum Nixdown Nixon to participate in an evening of experimental whops. Just click on the title of the book to learn the results in pdf format which as usual is absolutely FREE to our guests.

I will hopefully get around to sending Dave Ell a new brief for a brand spanking new Woody toon, so check back over the next few days … until then I am off in pursuit of a cold beer with the rather strange name of Moose Drool … kick back and enjoy the story … Bottoms Up! … RH

Thanks to Chross and More from Miss Nixdown Nixon

My appreciation to the hugely influential Mr Chross for featuring our recent two part toon in his Spanking of the Week round-up. What I like about Chross’s round-ups is the wide range of sites that he features demonstrating the vast array of talent and tastes amongst our eclectic community. I have found many new and interesting blogs due to his weekly listings. He generally also includes a link to the ‘In with the New’ listings featured by that other wonderful blogger Bonnie Burns over at My Bottom Smarts. I’m sure that everybody who has been fortunate enough to benefit from being featured by either of these sites will join me in thanking the host and hostess of these sites for the stellar work they do for the spanking world.

Today we feature another extract from A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixon. This is the third in our Life in the Day series which has previously featured a birds-eye view of life at the Woody Back to School Unit from the perspective of the main protagonists Miss Jojo Heyworth and Debs Morton. Writing these stories has been an interesting challenge, not least because I am a gentleman of a certain age and not a twenty-seven year old woman. Nonetheless, I am having fun with the experiment as it gives me an opportunity to explore the characters that I have created from a different vantage point … I have been deeply gratified that several of my favorite bloggers have taken the time to email me and encourage me to continue with the experiment … I have added these two chapters to the work in progress version of the book and posted it in Library II … I hope you enjoy reading about the somewhat depraved Miss Nixon as much as I enjoy writing these pieces … its Saturday so crack open a bottle of chardonnay or whatever your favorite tipple may be and kick back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Chapter 17 – Spanky, Christy and Cedric

Speak of the devil. A flame red Ferrari is approaching along the tree-lined driveway. The car belongs to Miss Spanky Botts and she will doubtless be accompanied by Christy Cranfield. Now I have occasionally been accused of being barking but I can assure you that I’ve got nothing on these two, they are both completely certifiable.

Before he sadly passed away Spanky was the muse and lover of the artist William Graham. She gained considerable notoriety for her habit of bending over the balustrade of their Venetian palazzo so she could be publicly caned by her lover. She even got honorable mentions as a tourist attraction in several alternative guide-books. I am personally quite partial to a little risqué exhibitionism but even by my standards that seems a little extreme.

Christy Cranfield was a successful banker before she chucked the towel in and became a full-time Woodette.

They are two of my favorite people.

I go down the steps and walk across the quad to greet them. They both avail of the services of my clobber consultant and are immaculately attired in Woody Clobber, Spanky is small and elfin and even if you didn’t know her you would suspect that she is a real minx. By contrast Christy is tall and elegant and could doubtless make a career as a super-model if she was so inclined.

We exchange hugs and the Spanky reaches back into the car and extracts an animal transporter.

“We’re flying directly to Zurich when we leave here on Monday. Christy has been invited as guest disciplinarian at a gala dinner of the Swiss Woodettes League. Unfortunately Cathy is hosting a spanking happening in Finland, and Karen is looking after the Café,” she says by way of explanation, “Jojo and the Grand Master said that they will look after Cedric while I’m away.”

Cedric is an African Grey parrot and he talks a lot. However, Cedric is not much given to making the normal ‘pretty Polly’ type comments. His vocabulary is strictly limited to making astute observations about spanking. I suppose that is hardly surprising considering that he has been hand-reared by a die-hard spankette like Spanky.

Spanky Botts is a remarkable character and is responsible for promoting what has become widely known as the Whops and Clobber zeitgeist. After the tribunal she established the www.woodettes.com web-site and later opened Café Woodys, a watering-hole designed specifically to satisfy the needs of the international spankette set. Christy Cranfield is her partner and the resident ‘Mistress of Discipline’. Christy is ideally suited for this line of work.

She was the President of Posh, the equivalent of Headgal, at the notoriously strict Queensgate Academy boarding school. Apparently she had frequent reason to cane Debs who was a pupil at the school and Deborah says that she always caned very hard.

On several occasions Christy has been kind enough to join Penny Ann and I in the stables so that we could sample her wares and I can assure you that for once Deborah was not exaggerating. Christy Cranfield is the mistress of the rod. Penny Ann is not quite as partial to having her bum whapped as I am and after an initial experimental six of the best she has declined to allow her bum within six feet of Christy’s cane.

I, on the other hand, found the experience divinely delicious and might well feel inclined to avail of Christy’s skills sometime over the weekend.

I help Christy with their bags while Spanky takes Cedric over to the Grand Master’s quarters where they have installed a cage.

Spanky and Christy pay serious quantities of wedge for the privilege of staying at the unit. Ostensibly they are employed as IT consultants but in actuality they come here to get their kicks and to savor the full Woody experience. I tell you, they are both certifiably barking.

As we cross the quad wheeling the cases the conversation turns to whops and I inform her that half a dozen gals had already been whopped and it was only just lunch-time.

She chuckled, “Weekend madness. It’s the same everywhere. Back at Queensgate Monday was always my busy day as the gals weren’t whopped at weekends. One Monday evening I had to pop a dozen gals,” she recalled.

“I bet Debs was one of them,” I comment.

She shook her head. “No during my term Debs was always thrashed last thing on Friday nights, but the Bounder was amongst them and if I recall correctly I had to give her the max. Poor love.”

“How did she take it?” I ask.

Christy chuckled again. “You know the Bounder she curled her lip at me contemptuously and made out it didn’t hurt. But in private she would always tell me when I had got her good.”

“Were you chums?” I ask.

“Well not really chums, she wasn’t with us for more than a few months before she was called upon to appear at her father’s trial and after that she was sent to reform school,” she replied. “I didn’t see her again until she was in the stand at the tribunal.”

We go into the Old Gals quarters and drag the suitcases up to the top floor.

“So guest disciplinarian huh?” I grin. “Well if you need some target practice I’m always available.”

Christy giggles. “I’m sure that I could accommodate you,” she tells me. “When’s a good time.”

“Any time is a good time but it’s probably best to wait until tomorrow, I’m too busy today playing Duty Monitor for having any fun before the feast.”

Chapter 18 – Divinely Bonkers

I take another quick spin around the campus to check for signs of mischief or malfeasance. The recreation area is quite crowded with groups of gals playing, poker, whist, gin rummy and backgammon. Bernadette and Lisa are mingling. Every now and again Bernadette would reach under her skirt and extract a sheaf of bank-notes and make her pay-outs. Lisa religiously recorded each transaction on her smart-phone.

I decide to go upstairs and change my blouse. As I enter the Elite landing I can hear Lady Derby berating Yvonne and Janet for sub-standard grubbing. I can also hear Yvonne arguing petulantly. Finally Derby runs out of patience.

“If you would prefer I can write you up for slacking and Miss Morton will take you up to the library for six when she comes back from training,” she snaps.

“Noooooooooooo!!!” I hear Mitch the Bitch wail. What a muff.

Janet Mitchell is an odious and spineless creature. For years she was Yvonne’s lieutenant in the Confederacy of Yoofs and when they were inmates she was in charge of dirty ops. She generally made sure she was in the company of her enforcers Ivan the Terrible and Spanker Spage when she got up to her nefarious activities.

One time a few years ago I caught her out and about on her own trying to strong-arm protection money out of one of the grubbies. I intervened and Janet tried to get haughty with me so I biffed her on the snooter, which took her by surprise as she is quite a lot taller than me. She boo-hooed like a baby.

As a result of this little altercation we were both sentenced to be publicly flogged. Now I have to tell you a public flogging is tough duty but we are Woody gals and we are expected to accept our fate with a certain degree of stoic pride. Clearly Janet never got the email. In Ms Lawton’s office she made a complete ass of herself weeping and pleading and putting all the blame on me.

Now Ms Lawton was a wily bird and she was having none of it. She knew that I only went into the hooter bopping business with good reason. She told Janet to quit with the waterworks and when Mitch the Bitch continued to blub the Grand Dame put her over her knee and gave her something to blub about.

It was even worse in the hall. We were sentenced to nine strokes each. I went first. Ms Lawton was an expert with a cane and she whopped the piss out of me. Now this might have been rather pleasant under different circumstances, a damned good flogging mixed up with a little exhibitionism, what more could a gal ask for? But as I have emphasized earlier Nixdown does not like having my bum whapped under such circumstances so I was feeling extremely grumpy. My disposition was not greatly helped by Mitch the Bitch standing there sobbing and muttering pleas and generally distracting me from getting into the zone. It was all most fucking disagreeable.

Ms Lawton really did a number on me and by the time I unfolded myself from over the vaulting horse steam was coming off my whopping bags and I was even grumpier than before.

Nonetheless I could not help grinning when Janet was finally persuaded over the horse. Ms Lawton had to threaten her with the ultimate indignity of being held down by several members of the Elite before she could get Janet into position and then the fun started. The brouhaha was unbelievable. For a gal who would later show such enormous elation at setting off fire-crackers inside the inmate’s bumbags she sure didn’t care much for being on the receiving end.

I can’t resist poking my head around the door.

“Is everything okay?” I ask idly.

Derby snorts. “I can’t believe these two fools, they can’t do anything without me peering over their shoulder.”

Yvonne glowers at her hatefully. Janet pretends to be busy dusting a counter-top.

I grin. “Looks like you have them under control,” I tell her. “I just stopped by to freshen up and change my blouse.”

“Would you like some assistance Ma’am?” she asks keenly. “Why don’t you touch up your make-up while I lay out a new blouse for you and then I can brush your hair?”

I do my best to suppress a smile. Lady Derby Huntington is a very queer fish and has more than a few bats loose in the belfry. I have never seen anybody so committed to the fine art of grubbing. When she arrived at Woodys nobody knew what to expect. She was the ‘It’ gal of the Ladette party scene and has been in the news since her mother gave birth just minutes after her father had just won the Derby. Her chaps are incredibly wealthy and they boast the largest staff of butlers, footmen and maids in the nation.

I suppose we expected a spoiled brat but nothing could be further from the truth. She is just simply divinely bonkers. And by the way this is a young lady who really enjoys whops, and I mean REALLY enjoys them. … To Be Continued

Brand New Spanking Toon Part 2 (with Part 1 as a bonus)

Yesterday’s original toon featured Debs Morton questioning the sanity of voluntarily offering up her bare bum for a gratuitous caning … today we can observe the results of her further investigations into the possible existence of an Inner Spankette.

As usual Dave Ell has done a fabulous job of bringing this episode to life so kick-back and I’ve included Part 1 and Part 2 for those of you who missed yesterdays post (shame on you) … further revelations about this incident will be available on Wednesday 18th August when we will release the latest installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 32 – The Agony and the Ecstasy’ … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

 

Two Brand New Toons – Part 1 – Debs and Friends

On Saturday nights it has become a ritual that, following the feast in the Great Hall, Debs Morton, Spanky Botts and Christy Cranfield repair to the notorious Punishment Room in the east wing of the Woody Back to School Unit to engage in some recreational caning. Deborah is happy to indulge her chums’ penchant for pain but sensibly she chooses to remain at the safe end of the cane. However, one evening after Deborah has a few too many glasses of bubbly she wakes in the morning to find a set of sizzling stripes on her bum. After some discrete enquiries she discovers that after caning Spanky and Christy she has gotten carried away in the heat of the moment and invited Christy to her study to give her a good-night thrashing (in the book ‘Volume 31- A Meeting with Destiny’ Debs actually gets caned across the seat of her black and red striped silk jimjams but somehow there was some confusion in the communications with Dave Ell … but no matter).

Deborah is alarmed that she has little recollection of the incident and struggles to understand her motivation for engaging in such lunacy. For over a decade and a half Deborah Morton’s bumbags had been laid siege to by a wide array of canes, crops, straps, slippers, hair-brushes, a wide variety of kitchen utensils and just about anything else that happened to be handy. In her own words Debs says that ‘trouble has followed me about like a bad case of flatulence’.

Debs begins to suspect that she might be secretly harboring an inner spankette. Fortunately for Deborah there is no shortage of confidantes at the Woody Back to School Unit for her to discuss such matters of high importance.

Desperate to get to the bottom of all this she asks her degenerate chum Nixdown Nixon whether she would like to spank her. “Of course I would,” responds Nixdown, “everybody wants to spank Debs Morton.” Debs does not much care for this response but nonetheless she decides to make an appointment with Nix in the stables and to embark upon a meeting with destiny.

As usual Dave Ell has done a fabulous job of bringing this episode to life so kick-back and enjoy and check back tomorrow for the gloriously graphic Part 2 … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

 

A Meeting with Destiny – A Brand Spanking New FREE Book

It’s Wednesday once again and time for the launch of the latest installment in the Woody back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 31 – A Meeting with Destiny’ just click on the title for an absolutely FREE download in pdf format.

My apologies for this rather abbreviated post but the idiosyncratic vagaries of my client are something of a distraction … so please feel free to download the latest story … and check back tomorrow as I have TWO sensational new Woody toons to share with you … until then kick-back and enjoy the shenanigans of the Woody Gals at your leisure … Bottoms Up! … RH

More from Miss Nixdown Nixon

Just a few more idle thoughts from Miss Nixdown Nixon … For ease of reading I have decided to start preparing the book version and have posted it in Library II under ‘A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixon (Work in Progress)’ and will keep it updated as I write new chapters … it’s Sunday afternoon (at least it is here) so splash out on a mimosa or pour a Bloody Mary and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Chapter 15 – A Spanking for Rosie

Penny Ann gave me a thorough whipping, which is of course what I wanted. Over the space of several hours I took four trips over Pen’s knee including the initial hand-spanking. I have a healthy level of pain-tolerance and like my chum Claire years in the saddle has probably worked to my advantage and toughened up my bum considerably. These are of course useful attributes when you are planning a night of extended benders.

I am still reveling in my warm memories when I hear the click of heels in the corridor below. I assume that it is Deborah making her way up to the landing to cane the twins.

The library is in a secluded wing of the main building and the click of Debs heels echo in the empty hallways. The twins continue to face the wall with their noses pressed to the woodwork. However tempting they are both aware that they must not move until they are given the release command. The nose and toes protocols are very specific; their noses must never leave the varnished paneling and no matter how leaden their arms become their elbows must never make contact with the wall.

It takes several minutes for Debs to mount the four flights of stairs and make her way up to the landing. Her footsteps are getting louder as she makes her final approach.

Over the years I have spent more time than I wish to recall outside the library waiting to be caned. No matter how whop-hardened you become it is impossible not to begin to get nervous as the unpleasant conclusion to your wait approaches.

Debs is smartly dressed in her Elite clobber and even her collar and tie are neatly fastened. It is a far cry from the old Debs who often used to resemble an unmade bed.

“Have you asked them whether they wish to appeal?” she asks me.

“They have declined to appeal and do not wish to talk about the incident,” I tell Debs, “they say it is private business and they just want to be whopped as soon as possible so that they can get on with their day.”

“Very well,” she says. “Thank you Nix, I’ll take it from here,” and then addressing the twins she tells them to lower their arms and to proceed to the punishment room.

I must confess that I admire the brisk and unemotional way that Deborah conducts her business in these situations.

In her daily life Debs can be mercurial which of course makes her erratic and unpredictable and she can sometimes be downright grating on the nerves. However when she is on duty as the Elite Disciplinarian she is level-headed and courteous, she puts her game face on and gets on with business. I suppose she learned that from her years as a professional sportswoman, but it is certainly an admirable quality.

I feel a pang of sympathy for the twins as they trudge through the heavy doorway to the library and the austere room at the back that is used exclusively for the business of whops. Of course as we are both members of the Elite I have never been caned by Deborah. She gets astonishing ratings on the GalGab web-site for technical merit, artistic quality and for the all-important heat factor. I have tried to coerce her to come down to the stables so that I can sample her wares but she always turns the suggestion into a joke and changes the subject. However, I am relentless in such matters and do not care for being refused. I shall eventually prevail.

The door closes with a dull thud so my duty is done. I decide to go back to the cafeteria.

The cafeteria is surprisingly quiet, everybody has stopped chattering and I immediately discover why. The sounds emanating from behind the plastic curtains of the kitchen are unmistakable. Some poor soul is over Dotty Hammell’s knee getting a damn good spanking. The gals in the main room are exchanging knowing glances but keep silent out of respect.

Within minutes Rosemary totters out from the kitchen area. Her pretty moon-face is flushed and she looks slightly shell-shocked. She is dressed in an electric pink chef’s blouson, black cargo baggies and a matching beanie.

“I hate that fucking spatula,” she mutters.

“Let me guess, you were late for kitchen duty because you were on-line gabbing with the Foxy-one,” I observe.

She just nods and wriggles over to a tray full of used beakers that need to be put in the dish-washer.

Dotty Hammell is the Dame in Charge of Gastronomic Affairs. She is an absolute dote and very minx-friendly. However the one thing that she will not tolerate is tardy-timekeeping.

Rosemary is one of the most disorganized gals that I have ever met and her inability to maintain schedules has played merry hell with her bumbags in the past. Her natural inclination for leaving things to the last minute has not been improved by the added distraction of her on-line affair with her cyber-lothario who operates under the nickname of the Silver Fox.

Rosemary wriggles back towards the kitchen carrying her load. I have no doubt that she is in considerable discomfort. The wooden spatula was first introduced during Wooden Saturday during the Great Spank-off and proved to be the Achilles heel of some of the Unit’s most whop-hardened veterans. The broad flat head packs an incredible amount of smart and sting.

I had the misfortune of going over Dotty’s knee last year and I can assure you that the spatula is a lethal weapon in the punishment arena, but that is not to say it should excluded from consideration for recreational purposes.

Chapter 16 – She Whops Very Hard

I grab an apple and decide to go over and visit Pen. As I said earlier being Duty Monitor can be quite tedious and involves a lot of mooching about.

When the Old Gal program was introduced Mr Humphries took two tithe barns and renovated them into small but quite sumptuous apartments. Pen’s is on the ground floor and I punch the pass code onto the number pad and go inside.

Pen is showered and dressed. She is wearing a black turtle neck sweater, cream jodhpurs and knee-length riding boots. She comes over and gives me a hug and a kiss.

“How’s it going?” she asks.

“Well, Ginger, Melons, Claire and the Bond Twins have all been caned and Rosie just got spanked by Dotty and it’s not even midday,” I sigh.

She chuckles. “Well Saturdays were always busy. I can’t tell you how many Saturday nights I was hauled up to Patty’s office to have my face chewed off for allowing the unit to fall into disrepute. Stupid fawkin’ be-yotch.”

Penny Ann had the misfortune of being elected Red-shirt during a dark period in Woody history known as Operation Scorched Arse. Poor Pen, she was the last person who wanted the job but the prevailing politics of the time left her with no alternative other than to accept the commission. She had a dreadful time of it trying to curb the heinous activities of Patty’s sponsored goons from the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers, aka, the SS.

Pen picks up a riding hat, leather gloves and her crop. I envy her. There is nothing more invigorating than a long hard ride across the Downs after a week in the lecture rooms.

As we are leaving the apartment we happen upon Claire coming down the stairs. She is also dressed for the ride.

“So you’re going to risk putting you bum in the saddle,” I giggle.

She grimaces a little. “I am still absolutely sizzling,” she groans, “but if I let a sore arse get in my way I’d never get anything done.”

Spoken like a true Woody gal.

I watch Pen and Claire’s retreating backs as they head towards the stables and return to my rounds.

Across the quad I see Ronnie and Reggie coming out the main building. Surprisingly they are arm in arm.

I amble over to meet them.

“How was it?” I ask.

“She whops …” started Ronnie.

“Very hard,” finished Reggie.

I am fond of the Twins. They used to play in a fairly successful retro-mod band. Ronnie was the front woman and Reggie played drums. Ronnie had a huge following, despite being quite petite she has a huge pair of lungs and an incredible vocal range. She used to dress in these beautiful tailored tonic mohair suits with tab collared shirts and skinny ties, and wear her hair in a bee-hive. The music pundits had them destined for glory but they had a minor problem. Their fans were extremely enthusiastic and were much given to trashing the joints that they played in. The Dark Agents smelled some easy prey and shortly the Twins were exchanging mohair suits for Woody clobber.

“The closer was,” said Ronnie.

“A real killer,” finished Reggie.

It can be quite bewildering conversing with the twins. The only way to tell them apart is by the ‘R’ and ‘V’ on the bibs of their gymslips, and even that can be misleading. They like to fuck with the heads of the Brass by swapping clothes so half the time nobody is quite sure who they are actually scolding or thrashing. It is quite bizarre.

“We’re going to,” said Ronnie.

“Try to walk them off,” said Reggie.

“Good luck with that I tell them,” and leave them to go about their business.

It is turning into a pretty day and the quad and recreation areas are beginning to fill up with groups playing bridge, poker and backgammon. I go back up the flight of steps to the balcony that will give me the best vantage point.

Debs comes up and joins me, she has changed into her tennis gear and is carrying several racquets.

“I’m going to knock up for an hour with Rachel,” she tells me. “Hopefully you won’t be needing my services.”

“Ronnie and Reggie said you did a good job,” I tell her.

She flushes slightly. Despite being very good at her job I think she is still getting used to being at the end of the cane that she is not quite as familiar with. When I first met her she was always talking about how many times that she got caned at school. Of course, I thought she was blowing smoke as Deborah is not averse to embellishment on a grand scale. However when her shocking record as the most caned pupil in the nation’s history was made public at the Tribunal, I was forced to concede that her bumbags have seen some very serious action.

“I didn’t give them anything special,” she says a tad defensively.

“Why don’t you come to the stables tonight and give me something special,” I tease her.

She rolls her eyes. “You really are barking aren’t you Nix,” she laughs and starts off down the stairs.

“Why not?” I call after her. “You cane Spanky and Christy. Why not me?”

She stops momentarily and looks back at me. “That’s different,” she says and hurries on her way. … To Be Continued

The Naughty Gene and Compulsive Impulsive Behavior Syndrome

I have always been fascinated by the existence of the ‘Naughty Gene’ in the human make-up … in an earlier post I cited the findings of the University of Michigan that a ‘naughty’ or ‘rebel’ gene exists in everybody to some extent in the form of a serotonin gene, a chemical in the brain which has been linked to the control of emotions and mood, like any other gene it is more prevalent in some people than others … in our upcoming release of the latest installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 31 – A Meeting with Destiny’, Debs Morton finds herself pre-occupied by whether her personality is dominated by an over-active naughty gene or the possibility that she has always had an ‘Inner Spankette’ without ever knowing it.

I have written in the past about a young lady I schooled with who was probably the World’s naughtiest gal. Penny (not her real name) seemed absolutely incapable of staying out of trouble. She spent a considerable amount of time either standing in the corner, being told that she would be required to ‘stay behind tonight’ which was the rather clumsy code for being told she was in for a spanking, or sent up to the Deputy Headmistress’s study for the cane. Penny is the general role model for all of the Woody Gals but most particularly of Debs Morton.

In developing the characters of the four main protagonists Jojo, Debs, Nixdown and Rosemary I have tried to develop contrasting personalities and motivations for each of them. Although they have all embraced the subterranean cult of mega-minxdom they each approach the life-style slightly differently.

Jojo is highly competitive and once she read the secret manifesto of the mega-minxes she was determined to rise to the very top of the Bottoms Up Table of Troublemakers. She establishes personal targets and pursues them doggedly.

Although Nixdown is a die-hard masochist she despises any form of formal punishment and begrudges the austere world that she has been banished into. She is a rebellious and belligerent cove by nature and many of her conflicts with the Brass and the Elite result from her refusal to acknowledge their authority despite the obvious risks to her bumbags.

For a large part of the saga Rosemary Booker is blessed with a rather unique quality in as much that she is relatively impervious to pain. As a result she views getting whopped as nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Unfortunately for Rosie, during the Great Spank-off’ she experiences an unpleasant epiphany when she becomes over-whelmed by pain for the first time. In the latter part of the saga Rosemary continues to lark, prank, goof and jape with the best of them but she does her best to limit her minxing activities to a level that will not actually result in her being required to bend over.

Debs Morton is perhaps the most complex of the characters and possesses the most hyper-active naughty gene of the quartet. By her own confession, ‘trouble seems to follow me around like a bad case of flatulence’. She laments her days at preparatory school where she ended almost every day being sent to stand in the corner. Subsequently at boarding school her behavior continued to decline and she was in constant trouble with the Dames resulting in her attaining the unenviable record of becoming the most caned pupil in national history. At Woodys her mercurial personality causes her to make many powerful and dangerous enemies and her bumbags remain under constant threat. Deborah claims to suffer from chronic Compulsive Impulsive Behavior Syndrome and believes that she has an alter-ego that she calls ‘The Imposter’ that causes her to constantly feel the need to be naughty.

I often wonder about my old friend Penny and what made her so monumentally naughty. Pen was not a mean-spirited person; she was cheerful, bright, funny and an incredible sportswoman. She was the only girl invited the boys end to play in our endless games of football where she excelled with her courage and agility as a goalkeeper. I don’t think that she was even unpopular with the teachers, more of a frustration and an enigma. Nobody seemed to understand her motivations for spontaneous naughtiness. I don’t know how many times that she was spanked or caned but I’m sure that her record was quite spectacular even back in the day when corporal punishment was used frequently.

After we changed schools I only saw her a few times, mostly we just shot the breeze, she seemed to like her new environment but she did comment that the nuns caned really hard, so I assume that she had not overcome her behavioral flaws.

In Volume 31 Debs grapples with her disciplinary difficulties and her own fatal behavioral flaws … as usual the latest installment will be released on Wednesday, August 11th absolutely FREE for download in pdf format … so come and join Debs on her personal voyage of discovery and her meeting with destiny … until then it’s Saturday so pamper yourselves and pour a glass of lunch-time wine … kick-back and have a good old rummage around the libraries and galleries … it’s all FREE and commercial free … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

The Bounder – Two New Toons for the Price of One

I have always enjoyed writing the character of the irreverent and somewhat larcenous Bernadette Summers, aka the Bounder. Her character is loosely based on a young lady who worked for me some years back. What Bernadette (not her real name) lacked in diligence and work ethic was more than compensated for by her charm, dusky beauty and extreme good-humor. She had a remarkable talent for scarfing down vodka and lime and she amply made up for her lack of interest in administrative duties with an endless supply of dodgy goods for sale that one can only assume had fallen off the back of a lorry. If ever there was a young lady that was born to be spanked regularly it was Bernadette but sadly at the time political correctness was already beginning to encroach in the work-place and putting your admin assistant over your knee was largely frowned upon by the humorless HR wallahs.

As usual our Man in Phuket, Dave Ell, has done a magnificent job in bringing the Bounder to life in this little yarn ripped from the headlines of the latest installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 30 – Malicious Obsessions’, which is of course available absolutely FREE for download from Library I … I really like the artwork so I have included two versions for your enjoyment so kick-back and enjoy  Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

 

 

Malicious Obsessions – Brand New FREE Spanking Book

We are pleased to release ‘Volume 30 – Malicious Obsessions’… as usual there is plenty of activity going on in the Poor Beleaguered Bumbags of the inmates of the inmates of the Woody Back to School Unit and also some good old fashioned mystery and intrigue as we begin to discover the dark forces behind their incarceration … I am currently caught up in a business and travel whirlwind so I do not have much time for myself … in the meantime just download the FREE pdf file …. Kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Malicious Obsessions – Coming Soon

We are pleased to announce that ‘Volume 30 – Malicious Obsessions’ of the Woody Back to School Unit saga will be available absolutely FREE for download on Wednesday 4th August … read all about the ultra-cool Cat Cassidy and her chum Melons bending over their desks waiting to be absolutely creamed by Pauline Cassidy … the callous Dame known to the Woody Wags as the Wart being forced to bend over in front of the fireplace in the punishment room to be thrashed by her arch-nemesis Debs Morton … and why does Debs voluntarily bend over the end of her bed for six on the silks from Christy Cranfield? Has she discovered her Inner Spankette? … Cassie Cassy continues her hell-bent pursuit of fame on the Bottoms Up Table of Troublemakers while still finding time to provide the Woody Gals with extreme gastronomic delights … these are just a few highlights of the new volume which also continues to chronicle the heroines of the Woody Back to School Unit’s struggles against the heinous Malicious Forsham-Smythe and the Dark Agents of the System … so set your calendars … but in the meantime it is Sunday so kick back with a mimosa or a Bloody Mary and have a good old rummage around the libraries and galleries … Bottoms Up! … RH

Absolutely Fabulous Spanking New Woody Toon

When Patty Hodge discovers that Katie Beck has ratted her out to the Grand Master the results are spectacular. I am sure that you will all agree that Dave Ell has excelled himself with this latest rendition … I am on the road again and do not have much free time but if you want all the gory details of the growing discontent between Patty and Katie go to Library I and download the absolutely FREE edition of ‘Volume 29 – Get Katie’ … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

Brand Spanking New FREE Book

It’s Woody Wednesday and as usual we are pleased to release the latest installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 29 – Get Katie’, absolutely FREE for download in pdf format. Tomorrow we will also be releasing a brand new toon which I think is quite sensational so after you have finished reading about the latest adventures and misadventures of the bumbags of the Woody Gals stop by in the morning and have a spanking good chuckle at the latest rendition … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

Get Katie – Coming Soon

Debs Morton spends a hot arse Christmas with her bumbags concertinaed around her ankles, not only does she take several trips across Ma’s knee to have her buns warmed with her trusty wood-backed hairbrush, but she also finds herself head down, arse up across the lap of her new Basque boyfriend … Detective Inspector Kate Faulkner and Police Sergeant Angie Ashurst find themselves settling in to life at Woodys when they are invited to bend over and touch their toes in front of the fire-place in the infamous punishment room …. Patty Hodge is in whop junkie paradise as she flex’s her wye-tipped cane and prepares to whip it down across the voluptuous derriere of Rosemary Booker … Cassie Cassy has a difference of opinion over HSE issues with the Dyke … Debs refuses to be whopped by the Wart as a matter of principle … then the Wart finds herself in hot water and even hotter bumbags when she attempts to take a mulligan … Katie doesn’t take kindly to being unceremoniously yanked over Patty Hodges knee for a damn good spanking and plans a coup, but can she wrestle power from the evil Patty … you’ll just have to wait and see.

The latest installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 29 – Get Katie’ is scheduled for release on Wednesday 28th July so mark your calendars … in the meantime it is Sunday so kick back with a mimosa or a Bloody Mary and have a good old rummage around the libraries and galleries … Bottoms Up! … RH

Caned by the KGB – The Spanking New Toon

I suspect that you will either love this new toon or hate it. Alternatively you may conclude that old RH is a refugee from the Home for the Bewildered. Volume 27 – Caned by the KGB, the installment of the Woody Back to School unit saga which introduces the mysterious Russian ex-secret service operative, was downloaded at record breaking speed so I decided that I had no choice but to commission our man in Phuket, Dave Ell, to start drawing right away … fabulous job Davy Boy … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

 

Half a Million Guests and a Brand New FREE Book

My heartfelt thanks to all you regular guests who stop by and have a rummage about the site and welcome to anybody dropping in for the first time, Our thanks to the kind bloggers that have added links to the Woody Back to School Unit, Linda over at Kilahara who edits my apostrophes and picks up the odd clanger or two, the community spirited that include Bonnie, Chross, Thomas and Cookie, and Richard Windsor who offer spankos easy access to our eclectic and very select community … and first and foremost my thanks to My Beloved Jojo, wife and muse for her patience and support, and to Dave Ell, my artistic collaborator who adds such flair and a taste of the Woody spirit to the stories … Bottoms Up to y’all from the Woody Gang.

So without further ado, kick back and enjoy the latest installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 28 – Magic Bumbags’ absolutely FREE for download in pdf format … and, please, feel free to keep stopping by … Bottoms Up! … RH

Cedric – The World’s First Avian Spanko

The latest installment of the saga is a spank-filled volume – you’ll discover the hot secrets of the UZI Paddle and its mystical hieroglyphic tattoos … read about poor Jojo experiencing the sorely under-publicized effect of a flat-faced wooden spatula … grow to love (or hate) the World’s first known avian spanking enthusiast … and enjoy the many other misadventures of the mega-minxes from the Woody Back to School Unit … it’s all FREE so set your calendars for Wednesday 21st July when we will be launching ‘Volume 28 – Magic Bumbags’ … so until then rummage about the libraries and galleries and have a spanking good time … Bottoms Up! … RH

Fresh from a Whopping

Just a few more idle thoughts from Miss Nixdown Nixon … For ease of reading I have decided to start preparing the book version and have posted it in Library II under ‘A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixon (Work in Progress)’ and will keep it updated as I write new chapters … it’s Saturday night (at least it is here) so curl up, open a bottle of red and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Chapter 13 – Fresh from a Whopping

I cross the quad and go over to the cafeteria in pursuit of more java. The café is crowded with the boisterous sounds of the inmates hanging out gabbing and chowing down on the brunch that Cassie Cassy and her crew have prepared. In general at weekends the inmates are cut plenty of slack and the only rules in the cafeteria are no excessive and dangerous horseplay and strictly no food fights.

A few weeks ago I was on duty when the Bond twins started lobbing food about as if they were chimpanzee’s at a shit-throwing tea-party and pandemonium ensued. It took some considerable time for me and Deborah to restore order and resulted in a mass beating. Hopefully we won’t have a repeat of that incident today.

I go over to the coffee station and score some espresso. I am filling my cup when Melanie White and Claire Brooks come over. They are both dressed in full clobber and I can tell instantly that they are both fresh from a whopping.

Claire and Melons have officially finished their sentences and are enrolled in the Old Gal program. Generally they are afforded the privilege of dressing in civilian clothes unless they have managed to earn themselves whops. It is not just the clobber that’s a giveaway, as they approach the station they both have their hands stuffed into their blazer pockets. This is standard Woody procedure to avoid the temptation of engaging in the cardinal sin of public rubbing.

“How’s it going?” I greet them. I would not be so crass as to demand details of the miss-adventures of their bumbags unless they are volunteered. However between you, me and the garden post I doubt that I will be left wondering for too long.

Melons reaches over for a mug. “We’ve just been soundly beaten,” she informs me.

Now I grant you that in some walks of life that this response might be considered a tad queer but at Woodys we talk about whops twenty-four-seven, which is hardly surprising considering that is more or less the timetable that whops are on the menu around this joint.

“Very soundly,” agrees Claire as she starts to pour coffee. “He’s got a new cane and we were his guinea pigs. It’s a fucking killer.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell them.

Melanie rolled her eyes at me. “No you’re not Nix, you are chomping at the bit to hear the gory details.”

“We were late back for curfew,” explains Claire.

I remember that Ginger had told me that she got six on the silks from Melons last night.

“Weren’t you on duty?” I ask Melanie.

“I was,” she explained. “I’d just come off shift and was about to turn in when Claire called me from Gabriels. She had some stud-muffin on the hook and needed someone to distract his buddy so I went over for a cocktail or three. Somehow we miss-communicated and neither of us phoned Ellen and the next thing we knew we were due for a whopping. Put a bit of a wet squib on the evening.”

“Put a wet squib on a lot of things,” sighed Claire. “I’m supposed to ride point this afternoon and the prospect of sitting my arse in a saddle is not very attractive.”

I giggle. “You’ve got an arse like leather sis,” I tease her, “how many times have I seen you go over your Ma’s knee and then get right back in the saddle and win a major event?”

Claire blushes slightly and mutters something inaudible, but she can’t deny that I’m right. Watching Claire being spanked was a common occurrence when we riding on the circuit and her Ma didn’t believe in little paddy whacking’s. When she put Claire over her knee she meant business. It was fascinating stuff.

“Is Rosemary around?” asks Melons.

I nod. “She’s probably upstairs swapping cyber-spit with the Foxy-one,” I tell them. “Mind if I tag along and inspect the damage?”

I watch as Melanie spreads herself out across Rosemary Booker’s lap. Rosie folds back the hem of Melanie’s skirt and then, very carefully, rolls down her bumbags. It is clear that Claire wasn’t exaggerating when she said that the Grand Master’s new cane was a killer, the stripes on display are extremely ripe.

Once again I admit that in some strata’s of society the concept of being bent over a lap with one’s bumbags around one’s ankles so that your chums can perform inspection might seem a little peculiar; but of course at Woodys it is an every-day event.

Melanie is a physical phenomenon. She is even shorter that I am but she is gifted with the most extraordinary beautiful pair of breasts. Before I started to go steady with Penny Ann I seduced Melons a time or two. She is not actually that way inclined but when you are locked up for three-quarters of the year boredom sets in. Besides who could resist the charms of Yours Truly?

In contrast to her front view her bottom is really quite under-sized so it is a tribute to the Grand Master’s skill with a cane that every stroke was contained within the safe zone we call the sweet spot.

Rosemary dips her fingers into a pot and greases them. She expertly runs the tips of her fingers along the stripes. She explains that her latest potion is comprised of aloe vera and mint and an obscure herb that she had managed to secure, doubtless with the help of the Bounder.

Melanie wriggles and squirms. “Whoa, that stings,” she mutters.

“Give it a few seconds,” Rosemary reassures her, “that sting will turn into a tingle and then it will completely cool you down.”

“I wish it would hurry up,” grunts Melons, and then my cell-phone rang.

Chapter 14 – The Troublesome Twins

I race down the stairs and out into the quad. A number of inmates have congregated and formed a circle. I shoulder my way through. Two gals are standing with their hands on their heads glaring at each other under the supervision of Charlie Barber who is a member of the Elite. The two gals are indistinguishable from each other, they are identical twins.

Veronica and Regina Bond are notorious for their sibling rivalry and their often acrimonious disagreements. Despite having their hands on their heads there are clear signs of hostility on their faces.

Charlie walks over to meet me. “I was on my way to the Wellness Center when I happened upon these two. Ronnie pulled Reggie’s hair and Reggie hacked Ronnie in the shins. They would have scratched each other’s eyes out if I hadn’t managed to get in between them,” she explained.

Charlotte Barber is a very good thing and as sound as a trout. She doesn’t make unnecessary trouble for anybody.

“Thanks Charlie,” I sigh. “I’ll take it from here.”

I walk over to the twins and reach into my blazer pocket. This is a part of my job that I detest. The protocols require me to formally red card them, so I palm the card and try to do it with as little drama as possible.

“Come along,” I tell them, “Let’s get you up to the library. I’ll contact Miss Morton and she’ll be along to beat you at her earliest convenience. Now let’s be sensible, I don’t want any pushing, prodding or poking on the way or I will be obliged to take you up before the Grand Master. Now lower your arms and cut along sharpish. I’ll be right behind you.”

I pull out my smartphone and speed-dial Debs. Derby answers the call.

“This is Miss Morton’s assistant, how my I help you?” she says in her refined aristocratic accent.

“Derby, you know who it is for gawds sake, there is no need for this formality, where’s Debs?” I try not to sound too snappy. Lady Huntington has written her own script and dances to her own drummer and who am I to criticize?

“Miss Morton is in the shower,” responds Derby, apparently oblivious to my terseness. “Do you require her to mobilize to the library?”

There is little doubt in my mind that if she wasn’t banged up in Woodys that she would be an inmate at the Home for the Bewildered. She is certifiably barking.

“Yes Derby,” I say as patiently as possible. “Please ask her to mobilize to the library. The Bond twins will be waiting for her.”

“I shall inform Miss Morton and you can advise the twins that she will be along to take care of them within the next thirty minutes,” she replies.

“Thank you Derby,” I say wearily and set off in pursuit of the twins.

It is really quite extraordinary, if you walk behind the twins it is as if they have been cut from the same mould. They are exactly the same height and have the same physique, even their hair is the same length to the millimeter. They keep stride with each other as we traverse the corridors and stairwells to the landing that hosts the library without ever looking at each other, but somehow it is hard not to get the impression that they are communicating. Quite eerie, when you come to think about it.

Deborah calls me back. “What was it this time, scrapping again?”

“Yeah, who knows what about. Charlotte said they refused to comment. I suppose it doesn’t matter really,” I tell my chum.

“Well I need to dry my hair and get dressed, tell them that I’ll be along to beat them as soon as possible,” she tells me.

I arrange the twins on either side of the hallway so that they don’t succumb to the temptation of getting into another scrap. They both know the form. They raise their arms and inter-link their hands on top of their heads and crane their necks slightly so that they can touch the tips of their noses against the paneling of the wood-paneling. Normally I would leave them unattended but I don’t want poor Debs to arrive and have to deal with the aftermath of a cat-fight. I lean back against the wall and cross my arms across my chest. With nothing better to do I play-back the many delicious moments of last night when I was laying face downwards across Penelope Ann’s lap having the temperature of my bum adjusted with a riding crop. Sweet, sweet memories. … To Be Continued

 

Hot!Hot!Hot! – A Spanking New Toon

Gloomily Debs Morton hung her new black blazer over the back of her chair and then bent forward at the waist and slithered her upper torso across the polished lid of her desk. Behind her Patty Hodge, Deborah’s arch-nemesis flexed a wye-tipped cane between her hands and grinned ghoulishly. Thus starts a busy day in the bumbags of poor old Debs.

Any hopes that Deborah might have secretly harbored that her lofty new role as Red-shirt at the facility might offer some respite for her bumbags were rudely dispensed with when Patty instructed her to bend over her desk and informed Debs that she intended to beat her bandy.

Patricia Hodge is not a woman who issues such threats idly and it takes all of Deborah’s fortitude to keep from howling as the wicked wye-tipped cane cuts her bumbags to tatters. Once she is released from the lecture room she wriggles painfully back to her study with the sole intention of spending some quality time stretched out over Rosemary Booker’s knee to have her sizzling rear end tended to with her chums mystical soothing balms.

Unfortunately upon her arrival her personal grubby, Lady Derby Huntington, informs her that she is required to cut along to the library where Cassie Cassy is waiting to be caned and the toon below records both explosive encounters with Debs on both ends of the cane.

As usual my thanks to the graphic maestro Dave Ell for colorfully breathing life into the adventures and miss-adventures of the inmates of the facility … the complete collection of Woody toons are available in Gallery I and there are now 27 full length books available in Library I for download … the good news is that everything is absolutely FREE, so why don’t you hang about and have a good old rummage … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH.

 

The Power and Influence of Woodys and a Brand New FREE Book

I was interested to read in the UK newspapers over the weekend that the Speaker of the House of Parliament is lobbying to implement a red card eviction system into the Commons. What was even more interesting was that he commented that he was not entirely influenced by the World Cup but that he had observed that other institutions had successfully implemented such practices!!! Whoa Go Woodys!!!

In the meantime while the learned mandarins of Whitehall wrestle with such affairs we are delighted to launch the latest installment of the Woody Back to School saga … “Volume 27 – Caned by the KGB” absolutely FREE for download in pdf format … so kick back and enjoy …we have a spanking new super toon coming down the pike so be sure to click back … Bottoms Up! … RH

More Meanderings from the Mind of Miss Nixdown Nixon

I’m still toying around with these more experimental pieces but I have had several very nice emails requesting that I continue with this story. The ‘Life in the Day of’ series is not quite as mainstream spanking fiction as the Woody Back to School Unit saga, but I still think it qualifies for the genre of spanking literature … I’ll leave you to make up your own minds. For ease of reading I have decided to start preparing the book version and post it in Library II under ‘A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixon (Work in Progress)’ and will keep it updated as I write new chapters … I hope you enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Chapter 9 – Red Card for Ginger

Jojo is sitting at the kitchen counter sipping a mug of coffee. She is still in the throes of getting dressed, her blouse is unfastened at the neck and not yet tucked into the waistband of her skirt, a towel knotted into a turban over her still damp hair.

“He’ll be out in a minute; he’s in his office on the phone,” she informs us, “the coffee’s fresh, help yourselves.”We mooch about the kitchen for a few minutes drinking java and gabbing idly until the Grand Master comes out of his office.

“Morning ladies,” he greets us amiably, “what’s on the agenda today?”

Victoria pulled a sheet of paper out of her blazer pocket and gave us a run-down on all the day’s scheduled activities. In contrast to the weekdays when we spend the vast majority of our time in the lecture rooms immersed in the rigors of educational programs the weekends at Woodys are far less structured.

There are numerous workshops available to the inmates that are hosted by volunteer members of our community. The grass hockey team has an away match and there is a cross-country ride across the Downs scheduled. Jojo is planning another major Woody theatrical production and there are various auditions throughout the day. During each term the inmates are allowed three town-passes to allow them to take care of personal business or to visit the local haberdasheries to be measured up for replacement clobber so at least a dozen gals would be off campus for most of the afternoon.

Despite all these distractions the weekends still offer considerable opportunities for the mega-minxes to indulge in creating an atmosphere of mischief and mayhem. The weekend whop-rate is traditionally rather high and as Duty Monitor I will have my work cut out to try to maintain some semblance of order around the compound.

Victoria, Debs and I verify that we have all the interfaces plugged into our smart-phones and the Grand Master tells us that he will see us shortly in the assembly hall.

I share a quick hug with Jojo; she winks at me and wishes me good luck before I cut along.

I do not feel at all lucky when Ginger Beckett decides to trip up a gal in front of her as the inmates are entering the assembly hall.

I cut my eyes sideways and glance over at Vix and Debs. It is clear that they have both seen this totally guileless act of tomfoolery and they are waiting for me to respond. I was closest to the action and it is my responsibility to show Ginger a red-card. I hate this part of the job.

Ginger is a very close chum but I took the Elite oath and swore that I would treat all the inmates equally, whether friend or foe. I could take the easy way out and pretend that I didn’t see Ginger tripping the gal and leave it to Vix or Debs to do the dirty deed but I know that would not be fair. I sigh inwardly and reach into my inside pocket and extract my card.

“Beckett, Phase 5, step up for goofing,” I hear myself say. I have just sentenced my chum to several hot and sweaty minutes bending over the back of a chair with her bumbags around her ankles for six strokes of the cane.

Ginger doesn’t show any reaction, she is a professional mega-minx and knows how to put on a game face. She knows that she is bang to rights and accepts her fate but it doesn’t stop me from feeling like a heel. I very much doubt that it is the last red-card that I shall be compelled to show today.

I watch gloomily as Patty Hodge, Katie Beck and the Wart sweep into the hall and bear down upon Ginger. I know exactly what is about to transpire. Patty leans in close to Gingers face and is clearly spitting barbed vitriolic into Gingers ear. Patty is highly skilled in these situations and she keeps her voice so low that only poor Ginger and her smirking cohorts can hear what she is saying. Having been on the receiving end of Patty’s lacerating tongue a time or two I can assure that she is not exchanging pleasantries.

Victoria only allows this to go on for a few seconds before striding over to intervene. Katie Beck tries to impede her but Victoria elbows her in the ribs. Katie squeals and leaps out of Victoria’s way.

“Ms Hodge do you have something to say?” demands Vix.

Patty glares at our Red-shirt. “Beckett’s tie is undone,” she snaps, “I’m issuing her a supplementary red-card.”

“Miss Beckett’s clobber infraction has been duly noted Ms Hodge,” says Vix on a low tone. “No further action required.”

Patty pulls herself up to her full height and glares down at Vix. Patty is tall even in her stockinged feet and she wears three-inch heels to add to her physical presence. She is a remarkable specimen of creation with flame red hair and emerald green eyes that I suspect that are enhanced by devious optical means. She can be rather intimidating but Victoria is not the easily intimidated sort.

Lady Victoria loves to recount her childhood days when she was taught to box and wrestle by her four elder brothers in the grounds of the castle. Many of the inmates have had reason to thank Vix when she has stepped in and stuck up her dukes to protect them from the bullying factions of our environment.

Victoria glances sidelong at Katie and the Wart and they high-tail it towards the steps of the stage as fast as their legs can carry them.

I can sense that Patty is contemplating radical action but Vix has closed in and is now between the evil Dame and Ginger. I can’t help noticing that her fists are clenching and unclenching as she stares unwaveringly at Patty. I suspect that she is considering biffing Ms Hodge on the snooter.

Patty glares down at her and then spins on her heel. “I’ll get you for this Brompton,” she snarls.

Vix waits until Patty reaches the foot of the stairs. “Yeah rock on Patty,” she drawls. “And that’s Lady fawkin’ Brompton to you.”

Naturally Victoria putting Patty back in her box is greeted by the requisite tittering and sniggering, but the inmates are quickly silenced when Vix turns around and commands, “Silence, silence in the hall, Grand Master approaching!”

Chapter 10 – A Case of the Residuals

The Grand Master only stops momentarily to dismiss Ginger from the hall and send her upstairs to get herself inspected. Ginger used to be a professional ballerina and normally she moves with a wonderful grace and seems to glide across the floor but she looks self-conscious and slightly ungainly as she trudges towards the door. Poor Ginger, nothing to look forward to except six of the very best.

The remainder of assembly is a routine affair with Mr Humphries repeating the day’s agenda that we had discussed earlier. As I am leaving the hall Deborah falls in beside me and slips her arm into mine.

“Don’t look so glum, you know that it was a fair call,” she says soothingly. “She knows the form so there’s no point in beating yourself up about it.”

She is right, of course, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling like a heel.

We cut through the corridors and step out into the cloisters. It is a brisk morning but the sun is beginning to break through so hopefully it will turn into a pretty day as I will have to spend the majority of it patrolling the grounds.

Debs is chattering away cheerfully about her new hairdo. Despite her natural self-assurance which can sometimes be rather irritating she is not in the least bit vain. In fact she is quite the opposite and can be very self-conscious. I think that is part of the reason that she always used to dress like a hobo. Yesterday I finally persuaded her to come into town with me and a visit a friend of mine, Pencil, at his salon.

We took the bus into town and she was extremely grumpy and non-communicative. I assumed this was because she still had smoke billowing out from under her skirt as a result of being caned by the Wart just an hour earlier. The Wart hates Deborah and really did a number on her.

The Wart landed the first five strokes with text-book precision and then announced that she was going to finish things up with a bacon slicer. We all had our fingers crossed and were hoping that the Wart would fluff the stroke and miss but sadly not.

Somehow Debs managed to stay down and avoided giving the Wart the opportunity to take a second shot at her. Of course Debs put a brave face on it while she was being post-processed but I have known her for a long time and I could tell that she had just been nailed and was in pretty bad shapes.

My pal Pencil is as camp as a row of tents and can be very bitchy but I had instructed him to be nice to Debs and for once he kept his catty tongue in check. He cut her hair back to just below her shoulders and gave her a loose perm that he promised was low maintenance. Deborah was absolutely thrilled with the results and even insisted on taking me to the VIP room in Monets and shelling out for a bottle of bubbly. She confided that her earlier grouchiness had nothing to do with the whopping she had received but that she hadn’t been to a hairdresser’s for over a decade preferring to trim her hair herself, which explains a lot.

We head across the quadrangle. The quad is the central thoroughfare and gals are beginning to mill about. Debs gives me a hug, wishes me good luck and tells me to let her know if I need her. We both know what that means.

I climb the broad flight of steps that will give me a good vantage point so I can monitor the activities in both the quad and the rec area. Being Duty Monitor is terribly tedious, I’ll spend the day wandering about the vast compound keeping my eye open for overt mischief and malfeasance or excessive and dangerous horseplay.

After about fifteen minutes I see Ginger coming out of the main building. She has her hands stuffed into her blazer pockets and her gait is decidedly stiff-legged. I walk down the steps and hurry across the quad.

“I’m sorry about the red-card,” I tell her.

She just shrugs. “Not your fault Nix, you were just doing your job,” she assures me.

“So how was it?” I ask.

“Not so good actually,” she says in her soft lilt. “It didn’t help that I got six on the silks last night and was suffering from a severe case of the residuals.”

“Oh my gawd,” I sigh. “I had no idea.”

“You weren’t to know, it hasn’t been post-processed yet. As a matter of fact I’m on my way to see Melons so that we can complete the paperwork,” she tells me.

I give her a hug and leave her to wriggle off and go about her business. I feel even more like a heel than before.

Being caned by the Grand Master is always tough duty and made many times worse if you have the misfortune of wearing the residual effects from a late night beating from Melons across your bum. Melanie is a class act and a highly respected power-beater. A couple of years ago, during her first term as Dorm Raider, she bent me and Jojo over our beds and gave us a thrashing. It was quite awesome. It might have been quite delicious under different circumstances but at the time it was most disagreeable. Poor Ginger.

Most of the gals are heading in the direction of the cafeteria where for the next few hours Cassie Cassy and her team will be serving a buffet brunch. There is little happening in the quad or rec areas so I decide to go back into the house.

Chapter 11 – In Charge of the Hen House

The main building dates back to the seventeenth century and was once the country retreat of some punter with more money that God. It is four storey’s tall and is a labyrinth of inter-connecting corridors, hallways and stairwells. When I first started my sentence I needed a map and compass to navigate the complex but now after seven years I can find my way around blind-folded.

I climb the four flights of stairs that lead up to the Elite landing with no particular purpose in mind. I pass by the open door to Deborah’s study and can hear Lady Derby barking instructions at Yvonne and Janet with admirable authority. I chuckle to myself. It couldn’t happen to a more deserving pair of be-yotch’s.

Frankie is in my study straightening and dusting. Actually there is nothing that really needs straightening or dusting but there is a queer phenomenon occurring amongst this year’s intake of grubbies. Lady Derby, Frankie, and Jojo’s grubby Michelle Morgan are tight and for some reason they appear to have embarked on some form of competitive grubbing contest. Apparently Frankie and Michelle are determined not to be out-grubbed by Lady Derby. It is all rather strange.

“It’s Saturday Frankie, why don’t you take some quality time with your chums?” I ask idly. “Besides I thought that you were helping Jojo with the auditions?”

“They don’t start for an hour,” she says. “I just wanted to check that everything is in order.”

I have given up arguing.

Frankie, Derby and Michelle are a remarkable trio and have created quite a storm at the Unit. They are by any standards natural born minxes and are already garnering headlines reminiscent of the glory days when Cat Cassidy dubbed Jojo, Debs, Rosemary and I as the ‘Famous Four’. We’ve had plenty of Über-minxes follow in our footsteps, Cassie Cassy of course but she is widely considered to be certifiably barking, and both Heidi Alexander and Linda Ash really made a name for themselves last year. But the ‘Terrible Threesome’ are something special and are as competitive about scoring whops as we were back in the day.

None of them arrived at Woodys sporting virgin arses. Frankie likes to tell a delightful story about being spanked on her bare bottom in front of the whole school for skinny dipping in the school pool. Some years later, in an interview with a French arts magazine she would report that, “after being spanked on the bare bottom in front of several hundred witnesses taking my clothes off to recite Shakespeare did not seem the least bit intimidating.” I keep an eye out for that kind of thing.

Derby has always been in the news. She was bestowed with her curious name after her father rode the winner at Ascot just minutes before his wife gave birth to his only daughter. For some reason the Great Unwashed could not get enough of Derby stories which were largely filled with accounts of her expulsions from numerous expensive boarding schools at a rate which makes my own educational record seem relatively stable.

She is the youngest woman ever to be sent to Woodys after she was arrested by the Dark Agents at a private party at the family pile on her eighteenth birthday. Her schooling coincided with the abolition of corporal punishment but in the days preceding the change in the law she managed to accumulate a creditable tally of whops and was probably on the road to greatness.

In contrast Michelle is oldest woman to be sent to Woodys, in fact it is only a loop-hole exploited by the Dark Agents that makes her incarceration legal.

She had previously served a term at the Ripley Back to School Unit and was released on probation. Somewhere along the way she went to Canada for a short trip and managed to miss her flight home. She became known as the ‘Runaway Ladette’. I’m not sure of all the details but somehow she ended up being featured on some photographer’s web-site in a series of deliciously erotic poses. Unfortunately for Michelle some old perv from the Dark Agents happened upon the photo-set when he was surfing the web for such material and she was arrested.

Michelle certainly didn’t arrive sporting a virgin arse. According to Ministry of Education records made public during the tribunal she ranks number four behind Debs, Claire and the Bounder as the most caned pupils in history.

Of course, officially we are their mentors and not supposed to encourage their outrageous antics. However, Mr Humphries gave us these assignments and he rarely does anything without some motive. If he thought that it was appropriate to put the foxes in charge of the hen-house then he doubtless knew what to expect.

I say ta-rah to Frankie and set-off to continue on my rounds.

Chapter 12 – Grumpy, Rude and Foul-Mouthed

The floor below the Elite landing houses more studies that are occupied by the Phase Five and Six inmates. They are smaller than the upstairs suites and each small room has two single beds, a couple of work-stations and a small en-suite bathroom. They may be small but they are considerably better than the open-plan dorms we slept in during the first years of our sentences.

I shared a study with Jojo for two years which was a lot of fun. Jojo is kind of the life-force amongst the community and our study was always as busy as Grand Central Station. I can’t tell you how much mischief and mayhem was plotted in our little study. Glorious times.

Halfway along the Phase 6 landing I stop and poke my head around the door of the study occupied by Bernadette Summers and Lisa Sutton.

The two gals are seated on their beds surrounded by piles of bank-notes. Bernadette, or the Bounder, as she is better known is the campus bookie. She takes bets on anything from the nags to the dogs but these days we mostly bet on our bumbags. We can wager on all manner of permutations, who is going to be whopped next, ranking on the Hall of Shame, etcetera, etcetera. Saturday morning is settling up time and the Bounder and Lisa are pouring over their ledgers.

“How did you do this week?” I ask them.

“I lost my blouse, my blazer and my bumbags,” grumbles the Bounder.

Lisa just chuckles and rolls her eyes. The Bounder always claims that she is making spectacular losses but we all know different. She makes out like a bandit.

Gambling is not the Bounders only line of business. Her godfather is a colorful cove called Stacks Monroe. Stacks owns a highly respected jazz club up in the Smoke. He is also a gangster and the best fence in the city. Oh, and I should add that he is a gentleman and one of the nicest people you will ever meet.

Stacks provides Bernadette with a wide array of contraband which she sells around campus. There is almost nothing that she can’t get her hands on so she is a very useful and popular member of the community.

Lisa runs her finger down the ledger. “We owe you a few squids Nix, do you want cash or shall we keep it on your account?” she asks me.

I laugh. The only real place to spend money on the campus is with Bernadette Summers Enterprises. If I’m not betting on my bumbags I’m buying booze, fags or other items from her inventory. There’s little point in cashing in my chips.

“I’ll let it roll over,” I tell them.

The Bounder stands up and starts to slide envelopes stuffed with cash into the elastic waistband of her bumbags. It is really quite amazing what she manages to secret under her skirt.

She picks up a particularly well stuffed envelope and scowls. “Look at this,” she grumbles. “Cat has been betting large on Cassie Cassy. I don’t think that it’s fair that she can bet on her sister. That’s like insider trading.”

Lisa rolls her eyes again. “You took the bet, Bounder. Cat would string you up by the elastic of those magic bumbags of yours if you don’t pay up.”

Bernadette just glowers. The Bounder is awesomely gorgeous. She is Sri-Lankan and has the most beautiful and perfect skin I’ve ever seen. She has jet-black hair and eyes and teeth that gleam when she smiles, which is rarely. She shrugs on her blazer and stomps towards the door muttering dark hexes against the punters who have had the audacity to actually win and are demanding pay-out. Bernadette is belligerent, grumpy, rude and foul-mouthed and I think she is wonderful.

I continue on my rounds, working my down through the lower landings that house the dormitories.

By the time I was sentenced I already owned my own flat in a fashionable area of the Smoke so it came as something of a shock to learn that for the next four years I would be forced to share my new digs with eleven other inmates. The dorms offer almost no privacy, just six beds lined up on either sides of the austere room. Unlike the upstairs study’s we were not allowed to hang pictures or show off personal effects. Even during the period I spent in reform school I enjoyed better accommodations.

Nonetheless, in hindsight we had a lot of fun and we got over our inhibitions. The dorms were a hot-bed of plotting, planning, conniving and malfeasance.

The rules regarding silence after lockdown are strictly imposed. That didn’t stop us. We routinely engaged in games of ‘Dare’ and played cat and mouse with the Dorm Raiders. The stakes were high; if we were caught a caning was mandatory. Even for a pain junkie like me, getting six stripes under your jimjams last thing at night is not particularly conducive to a good night’s shut-eye. Of course we are Woody Gals and we did not let the threat of six of the best divert us from the joys of minxing. During those years of co-habituating in the dorms I was probably caned a dozen times and my record was not considered particularly noteworthy. Sweet and painful memories … To Be Continued

Welcome to the Opening Party – Two Brand New Woody Toons

Two FREE books … two new toons … it has been a busy week at the Unit … so RH is going to take a short rest as I have domestic and family duties over the weekend … My thanks as always to Dave Ell for his interpretation of ‘Volume 26 – Café Woodys’ of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, that is free for download in Library I … personally I think these toons are very funny but then I guess I’m biased … have to run … but if you like the toons then hang about and have a good nose around and you’ll find plenty to look at and read … please enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

Grand Opening of Café Woodys – The Latest FREE Installment of the Woody Saga

Ok call me old-fashioned but there are just not enough spanking cafes around … today’s new installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 26 – Café Woodys’ attempts to redress this unfortunate social deficiency … I have to confess I had a lot of fun writing this part of the saga and I very much hope that you will enjoy it … for those of you who were engaged over the weekend with families and friends and might have missed the release of our 4th July Bonus launch of ‘Volume 25 – A New Red-shirt’ just click on the red link and as usual both volumes are available for absolutely FREE download in pdf format from Library I … to celebrate the Grand Opening of Café Woodys I have also commissioned Our Man in Phuket, the fabulous illustrator Dave Ell to do his mastery on two new toons that will be available over the weekend … so plenty to read and see … so kick-back, download to your heart’s content, it’s all FREE … have a good rummage and just enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Roll Up! Roll Up! … Welcome to Café Woodys

The Grand Opening of Café Woodys is scheduled for Wednesday 7th July with the release of the latest installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 26 – Café Woodys’ … the new watering hole is opened by Miss Spanky Botts to offer the Woodettes a social venue to kick back and show off their bumbags after a hard day at the office … at the Grand Opening gala you’ll meet plenty of new characters who have flown in from the far corners of the globe for the opportunity to rub shoulders with Jojo, Debs, Nixdown and Rosemary … you’ll meet Miss Mika Yoshida from Tokyo and become familiar with the the well-known Japanese term 最もよいのの6 … Miss Romana Papezova has jetted in from Prague especially for the nights revelries … of course there are all the normal familiar faces at this ground-breaking night and you’ll discover why Debs Morton is planning on stringing the Bounder up by the elastic of her bumbags and why Jojo has some serious doubts about the benefits of charity … over a hundred and twenty pages of spanking good fun … so set your calendars … for those of you her were busy with family and friends yesterday just a reminder that we did release an unscheduled bonus 4th July installment of the saga, ‘Volume 25 – The New Red-shirt’ so just click here for the FREE download or check it out of Library I at your convenience … Bottoms Up! … RH

25 Free Books in the Library – A 4th July Bonus Edition

Happy 4th July to all our guests in the US … despite hailing from the shores from which the Committee of Five decided to declare its independence some years ago I thought that in recognition of my adopted country I should offer up a bonus new installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 25 – A New Red-Shirt’, absolutely FREE for download in pdf format … We will of course release ‘Volume 26 – Café Woodys’ on Wednesday, 7th July so stay tuned in for more hi-jinx from your favorite mega-minxes … kick back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

More Observations from Miss Nixdown Nixon

Today we continue with my writing experiment of trying to view the world through the eyes of one of the central Woody Back to School Unit characters. This is not really mainstream spanking writing like the WBTSU saga but hopefully you’ll agree that it is still spanking-orientated fiction. For ease of reading I have decided to start preparing the book version and I will post it in Library II under ‘A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixon (Work in Progress)’ and will keep it updated as I write new chapters.

Now that my main teams England, US and Brazil have been knocked out of the World Cup I am able to sit back and relax and watch this wonderful tournament for what it is … a celebration of ‘the beautiful game’ … so for all our guests who still have teams competing the very best of luck … in the meantime why don’t you kick back, sip a glass of vino or three and enjoy the latest ramblings from Planet Nix … Bottoms Up! … RH

Chapter 7 – Yvonne and Janet

I stuck my head around the door to Jojo’s study. Her bed has not been slept in so I assume that she has spent the night in the Grand Master’s quarters. I smile to myself. It is wonderful to know that my best chum is so happy and contented in her romance with Mr Humphries. They will be married in the summer, once we are released, and I shall be her Maid of Honor.

I go next door into my own study and put the two coffee cups down on my desk and head for the shower. It is still barely six o’clock and I don’t go on duty for an hour so I have time to luxuriate and pamper myself.

Sometime last evening, before she turned in for the night Frankie has stopped by and laid out a fresh set of clobber on my bed. Unlike many of the inmates who only maintain a minimum wardrobe I have a huge collection. I am really fussy about my clobber, obsessively so maybe, and on a busy day like today I may well change my blouse three or four times. I will also make a complete change before this evening’s social event.

I have just finished drying my hair and am knotting my red tie when Lady Derby Huntington pokes her head around the door.

“Good Morning, Ma’am,” she says cheerfully. “I have just made fresh coffee for Miss Morton, would you like me to bring you a cup?”

Derby grubs for Debs. She is an absolute dote and as mad as a March Hare. She hails from one of the nations oldest and most respected family’s and was brought up surrounded by maids, valets and liveried footmen. Nonetheless she has taken to the life of a grubby with remarkable enthusiasm and tends to Deborah’s every need morning, noon and night.

I thank her and make a final adjustment to the knot of my tie so that it is seated neatly in a perfect vee and fully covering the top button of my blouse.

Derby returns with a mug of coffee. “Is there anything else I can get for you, Ma’am?” she asks.

We have been trying to cure Derby of calling us Ma’am except in public, when it is a required protocol, but she just giggles and ignores us. I tell her that I’m fine and she tells me she will cut along and get everything prepared for Deborah’s return from her run. No sooner has Derby departed than there is another knock on the door.

“Come,” I call and Yvonne Godfrey and Janet Mitchell shuffle into the room.

“Reporting for duty, Ma’am,” mutters Yvonne.

Now I have absolutely no problem with Yvonne referring to me as Ma’am, in fact I insist upon it.

Yvonne and Janet spent seven years as inmates of the facility and are loathsome and odious cretins. During the dark days of Operation Scorched Arse they served in Elite and were the principal’s of the heinous Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers. With the sponsorship of Patty Hodge and Katie their assignment was to make life miserable for the inmates and cut as many pairs of bumbags to tatters as humanly possible.

They both caned me a time or two and I can assure you that they made it an even more disagreeable experience than usual.

After their release from Woodys they apparently returned to their roots and threw their bumbags back in the ring with the Confederacy of Yoofs. Somewhere along the way the thought it would be a wizard wheeze to go into the kidnapping business.

Fortunately the Yoofs enlisted the assistance of a bunch of incompetent Scouser’s and it all went pear-shaped in a heartbeat. Yvonne and Janet were captured and returned to the Unit for their participation in this fiasco.

Now the once mighty Commandants of the SS are reduced to the role of permanent grubbies. They are responsible for maintenance and cleaning of the facility and each day they are also required to provide relief grubbing support on the Elite landing.

By and large the inmates are not a vindictive bunch but it would be impossible not to harbor some grudges against this pair of be-yotch’s and not to enjoy some gloating satisfaction at their reduced circumstances.

“Morning ladies, hands on your heads, you know the form,” I greet them.

Janet looks resigned as she raises her arms. Yvonne on the other hand takes the time to glare at me before complying; her eyes burn with anger and resentment as she links her hands on top of her head.

Before we discuss their day’s assignments I am required to subject them to a full clobber inspection. I doubt that they will be foolish enough to pitch up with their clobber in an abusive state but it is an opportunity to make them sweat a little.

I start with an inspection of their blazers and then proceed to methodically check every stitch, seam, hem and button of their clothing. As I suspected I do not find any infringements of the clobber protocols but you can tell by the relief on their faces when I tell them that they can lower their arms that they found the experience suitably disagreeable.

I click on the duty roster on my laptop and learn that today they have been assigned to support Lady Derby in her grubbing duties. I suppress a grin. Derby is a hard task-mistress and will not tolerate any slacking on her watch. She will have Yvonne and Janet scurrying about hither and thither and will monitor their performance like a hawk. Lady Derby has no compunction when it comes to dispatching them to the library for a thrashing if she feels that they have not met her exacting standards.

The list of assignments includes several routine maintenance tasks including polishing the floor of the Grand Hall in preparation for tonight’s feast. I print the list and send them on their way. I should feel some sympathy for them but I don’t. They are complete be-yotch’s and deserve everything that they get.

Chapter 8 – Victoria and Debs

I pull on my red silk and mohair blazer and fasten the five buttons up the front. I go over to the umbrella stand and select an ashplant cane which I will be required to carry tucked under my left arm throughout the day. This is rather unnecessary as I have ceded my thrashing rights to Debs but it remains a requirement of the Elite Charter so I do not feel inclined to argue the point.

The ashplants are very slender, eighteen inch long canes that apparently have been in use by members of the Elite ever since the original Woody School was first established in the mid-1800s. According to Debs who researches this kind of stuff they are produced by some family in Dublin and are cut from saplings of a particular mountain ash-tree and then cooked in a chimney-oven. She also mentioned that according to the advertising literature they come guaranteed one-hundred-per-cent tested for performance. I’m not sure where you find the job applications but if ever I’m in the mood for a career change or in need of a few extra squids I could always sign up for a position in the family’s quality control division.

Now suitably accessorized for my day as the Duty Monitor I stroll down the landing to Lady Victoria’s study to see whether she is ready.

Lady Vix is swallowing down the dregs of her coffee, presumably supplied by the good offices of Derby and burning a cigarette. She is dressed in a deep red silk blouse with black piping around the collar and a short black flared skirt. She wears a black tie around her neck that she has not yet got around to fastening.

“Morning,” she half-yawns, “Give me a few minutes and we’ll get the fawkin’ show on the road,” she drawls in her aristocratic voice.

I tell her that there is no hurry and bum one of her fags.

I have known Vix since the Ladette days when Jojo and I used to party together with the likes of Cat and Melons. Glorious days when we worked like demons all day and tripped the light fantastic all night. Before she was arrested and banged up at Woodys, for dancing naked in the fountains of Trafalgar Square on her twenty-first birthday, I had the privilege of attending several of her New-Years Eve balls at her father’s pile. I think that Victoria’s family has an even longer heritage than Derby’s. Brompton Castle was built back in the ninth or tenth century and is a rather ethereal spot on the top of a hill with panoramic views of the Brompton estate. The interior has mostly been renovated and modernized but thankfully the Brompton family has had the good sense to keep the dungeons intact and I have spent many dreamy and eventful nights in the dark recesses of the castle.

Victoria finally stops bustling about and pulls her black blazer out of the closet. I go over and fasten the top two buttons of her shirt and knot her tie correctly. She smiles and pulls on her blazer.

“I guess we’d better fawkin’ cut along,” she drawls.

I love potty-mouthed aristocrats.

We are cutting across the quadrangle in the direction of the Grand Masters quarters when Debs catches us up. She slips her arm into mine and starts to prattle on about some new gadget that she has that she wears on her wrist while she is running and monitors all manner of her critical functions. She is still on an endorphin rush and despite the fact I have no idea what she is talking about I know that there is no hope of stopping her. Deborah is notorious for her persistence in delivering her opinions and observations. I catch Victoria’s eye and we exchange a wink. In a few moments Debs will just run out of steam and by the time we reach the Grand Master’s quarters she will be prepared to start her day in the role of Victoria’s deputy.

Over the last few days there have rumors on the gossvine that Victoria is considering standing down as Red-shirt and handing over the reins to Debs.

Although I count her amongst my closest chums my relationship with Deborah Morton has occasionally been fractious. I am sometimes accused of being cynical but actually I just think that I have an innately suspicious nature and I have sometimes suspected that Debs engineers many of her more calamitous situations for her own personal self-aggrandizement. Deborah naturally denies any such accusations and our disagreements have occasionally caused significant rifts in the lute.

At the end of last year when Mr Humphries was seeking a successor to Lady Victoria he lobbied Jojo and I to fulfill the role of Red-shirt. For different reasons we both turned down the position and we both expressed the opinion that despite Deborah’s fall from grace with Ms Lawton that we just assumed that would be forgotten and she would be the natural candidate. After all she is an unreasonably (and perhaps even unnaturally) gifted individual and it is actually her abundance of fatal flaws that make her so attractive and sometimes even endearing. However, The Grand Master explained that he feared that she would just be too high maintenance and I have to say that I agreed with him. Eventually Lady Vix was persuaded to stay on for a second term even though she has officially finished her sentence.

Despite the Grand Masters concerns Victoria lobbied for Debs to firstly be promoted to Captain of the Red House and then subsequently as her Deputy.

I am forced to admit that Debs has proved me wrong and has done a smashing job in both roles, so I am more than happy to endorse her when the time comes. I just wish that she would stop babbling in my ear about heart-rates and breathing patterns … To Be Continued

Old Gals in Hot Water – Another New Woody Toon

Sometimes it just needs to be about the spanking and I particularly like this brand new toon drawn for us by the fabulous illustrator Dave Ell. This week’s toon is snatched from an episode from the recently launched ‘Volume 24 – The Sting’ and features two of my favorite characters Melanie White and Claire Brooks, who I am sure that you’ll agree Dave draws superbly … I’m in a business crunch so I’ll leave you to make up your own minds … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

More Tattered Bumbags for the Woody Gals – Brand Spanking New FREE Book

A little later than scheduled but we are pleased to announce the release of the latest installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 24 – The Sting’, and as usual it absolutely FREE for download in pdf format. Lots of thrills and spills in this episode and of course the sound of canes, straps, slippers and wood-backed hair-brushes rebounding off navy blue gossamer bumbags or naked flesh resonate around the Woody facility … for those of you who are new guests, welcome, and if you would like to download the earlier books from the saga just go to Library I and you’ll find them all there … the Galleries contain totally original cartoons created in collaboration with the incredible illustrator Dave Ell to add a bit of color to the stories and bring the characters to life … a brand spanking new toon will be available sometime during the next 48 hours so keep dropping by … but in the meantime just kick-back, pour yourself a quiet glass of wine and enjoy another Wednesday with the Woody Wags … Bottoms Up! … RH

Brand Spanking New Volume Scheduled for Release

Debs has to make a difficult choice between being thrashed with a freshly cut or a well-seasoned tawse … the Woody gals find themselves embroiled in an art heist … Nixdown goes missing … the Wart tries a bacon slicer … Police Sergeant Ellen Millar contemplates the consequences of boffing a gangster … Miss Spanky Botts announces a new venture … Deborah wakes up with a mysterious set of stripes on her bum … Cassie stages a comeback on the Hall of Shame … Claire Brooks and Melons pay the price for a gals night out … and Patty Hodge kvetches at Lady Victoria Brompton’s surprise announcement … all this and more in the brand spanking new installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 24 – The Sting’ scheduled to be released for absolutely FREE download on Wednesday June 30th … so mark your calendars … in the meantime feel free to have a good old rummage around … Bottoms Up! … RH

Congratulations to the Kilahara Library and a quick trip to Planet Nix

Well this was a disappointing weekend for RH … first my adopted country the US bravely failed to overcome the valiant and athletic Ghanaian’s and then the cart-horse representatives of my birth country put up the most miserable performance imaginable and volunteered themselves for a damn good spanking from a team of deft, youthful and extremely talented Germans … however this is a spanking site, so I shouldn’t bother you with such trifles, but if you should care to read a pretty accurate crystallization of my current thoughts on English soccer you should visit this post by the sports journalist Oliver Holt who just about nails everything I would have written or ranted about regarding this sad day in world history … well ok that is probably a bit of a stretch but a sad day nonetheless.

But as RH is a generally optimistic type of cove we should turn our attention to success … some time ago I awarded a ‘Five Red Bums Award’ to the Kilahara Library of Spanking Fiction and today they should be given some more Red Bums as they now have 10,000 stories in their archive. Collecting and referencing this remarkably diverse library of spanking stories is a fabulous effort by Februs, flopsybunny, Linda and pinkangel … most recently they have launched a short story competition and you can view the entries at Contest … it will give you a flavor of the diversity of the content of this completely FREE site … so go take a look and if you like what you see you can register as a member and vote for your favorite story … congratulations to kleestep1959 who was kind and diligent enough to round up 32 writers to make a contribution … well done Y’all.

In the meantime here is a little more from Miss Nixdown Nixon for your enjoyment …. You can find the earlier Chapters at 1&2 and 3&4 by clicking on the highlighted links … I will be back shortly once I have recovered from my stunned devastation … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

Chapter 5 – Mentoring

Debs takes off for her run and I pour two cups of coffee, one for me and one for Jojo. We don’t actually share a study anymore now that we have been elevated to the giddy heights of the Elite but old habits die hard.

I cut through the labyrinth of wood-floored, oak-paneled corridors towards the back stairwell that will take me up to the private landing reserved for the studies of the gals in Phase 7 of our sentences. Nobody is about yet and the only sound is the click of my heels that echo rather eerily around the huge building.

Today I am the designated Duty Monitor and will be responsible for assisting Lady Victoria Brompton and Debs in administrating and maintaining discipline over the inmates. As it is Saturday this will be a full-time job as there are no lectures convened over the weekends. As usual I shall concentrate on administration and will leave the discipline part of the equation to Vix and Debs. After my experiences with the odious Goddesses I am not much inclined towards wielding that type of power and authority.

Nonetheless, I do understand the need for discipline in a facility such as this. Now we could argue until kingdom comes over the rights and wrongs of the Anti-Ladette laws but the fact of the matter is that the government, with the support of the Great Unwashed, took a dim view of our free-wheeling activities and deemed us to be need of Extreme Social Rehabilitation. I may think that this is all fabricated tosh and doubtless history will prove me right. However, when we started our sentences the rules, regulations and protocols were drummed into us, or more accurately spanked into us, and with great vigor.

During the first year of our sentences we were known as Little Brats and designated as Grubbies. Being a Grubby meant that you were assigned to a member of the Elite to act as her fucking serf in return for her mentoring services.

Mentoring services included draping us. By draping I mean turning us face down, arse upwards while they dusted our bumbags. Our mentor was also waggishly known as our Personal Draper.

I was assigned to be mentored by the monstrous be-yotch Katie Beck, while she was still an inmate at the facility.

Now let’s get something straight, Katie Beck was a hard-core criminal and well-known to have been the first female senior vice-president of the Confederacy of Yoofs. How she managed to finagle her way into being charged under the Anti-Ladette laws instead of being carted off wearing a ball and chain to do hard labor is one of the great mysteries of life kept classified by the darkest of the Dark Agents.

The rules, regulations and protocols are contained in mighty tomes and during our first week at the facility we were required to learn them by heart, our mentor could spot test us any time she chose.

Katie, of course, elected to test me regularly and regardless of whether I gave the correct responses or not she always found a reason to yank me over her knee and dust me liberally. Now this type of behavior is guaranteed to give a gal of my temperament a severe dose of the pip so I resorted to my tried and trusted skill in shin-hacking.

This made for an acrimonious relationship. Katie knew that she could not very well report me as most of the dustings were completely unjustified. We began a war of attrition.

Katie is a queer cove by any standards. She is of course knock down beautiful with that mane of hair, bright blue eyes and a body to die for. She is also a cruel, nasty and odious specimen of humanity.

In another of life’s mysteries she had done some more finagling and had got herself elected as Red-shirt. This was due to the fact that during the early part of her sentence her chaps had died in a car crash and Ms Lawton had taken over responsibility for acting as her Court Appointed Guardian. Unwisely Ms Lawton had decided that giving Katie responsibility might increase her ward’s chances of becoming socially rehabilitated. Snakes do not become socially rehabilitated and Katie is a fucking viper.

Early in the piece I was mooching about her study grubbing and overheard her gabbing with her sycophantic confidantes. She was boasting that she intended to thrash every inmate at the facility within her first hundred days of office. According to the record books she achieved this in half the time.

Katie and I fought constantly. She is much bigger than me but she is a vile bully and basically a coward. On several occasions I managed to scratch her face leaving her to try and explain her disfigurement to Ms Lawton.

She in turn responded by habitually yanking down my bumbags and spanking me relentlessly. This was strictly against the protocols but it did earn me the nickname of Nixdown Nixon.

I could have appealed but any such application had to be filed with Patricia Hodge, the Deputy Grand Dame. Patty is another vile and odious specimen and, of course, she was Katie’s personal sponsor and mentor. With that avenue closed to me I continued with my shin-kicking strategy.

Now that I am in the Elite I have my own grubby. I was assigned a fabulous young lady called Francesca Reese. Frankie was an independent actress before she fell foul of the Dark Agents. She is best known for her on-screen delivery of Lady Macbeth’s sleepwalking soliloquy while as naked as a jay-bird.

She has been an occasional bone of contention between me and Penny Ann, who rather distrustfully suspects that I have my eye on my grubby. This understandable as Frankie is something to behold with her mane of golden amulets that pour down her back. However, she doesn’t need to worry as for once in my degenerate life I have made a pact with myself that I will never do anything that would hurt Penny Ann.

Chapter 6 – Planet Nix

Pen and I enjoyed a icy glass of bubbles. She sat on a bale of hay; I lay on my tummy at her feet. I may be Nixdown, woman of steel, but my bum was sizzling and sitting down did not strike me as a particularly attractive proposition.

My bum was burning delightfully. There was no need to hurry things. The night was still young and nobody was going to bother us in our sanctuary and I wanted to savor the moment while I sipped my favorite tipple.

Penny Ann picked up the leather riding crop and toyed with it teasingly in her gloved hands. She was totally relaxed in our private world and she looked magnificent in her skin hugging shirt with her tie slightly loosened.

The crop she was holding is one of my favorites. It is a vintage piece with a braided pig-skin covered shaft and a engraved silver niello handle, finished with a horn knob.

I have been collecting crops obsessively since I was very young and started riding, long before I had any inkling of my persuasion. I suspect that a trick cyclist might make something of the inner mechanisms of my subconscious but I am not a great one for shrinks. I spent a large part of my youth in various doctor’s waiting rooms when the authorities were trying to unveil some dark secret behind my compulsion with shin-hacking. I bamboozled them with a shed-full of porkies. As far as I was concerned my compulsion was a perfectly natural reaction to having my bottom whipped by some snotty be-yotch with a cane in her hand.

I stood up and fetched the bottle and refreshed the glasses. Pen swished the crop through the air playfully. It made a threatening whistle. She smiled at me and winked.

Penny Ann has grown to be at ease with the dynamic of our relationship. It took her a little time to find her comfort zone but these days she is quite happy getting her kicks on Nix-Sixty-Six.

When we first started to play together I’m sure that I confused Pen. She was the Red-shirt of the facility and on two occasions she had been required to dangle me in the disciplinary theater. By being dangled I am referring to being put across her knee, upstairs in the library, and being spanked on my bare bum with the back of a long-handled, oval-headed, wood-backed hairbrush. As I have said earlier I do not take this type of punishment well and according to Penelope Ann I was rather grumpy during these incidents. As a result she was understandably bewildered when I invited her to the stables and demanded that she thrash me with a leather riding crop.

It didn’t take her long to get tuned into Planet Nix and when I’m face downwards across her lap I am always confident that she will not wimp out and hold back.

Yesterday evening she was the Mistress of my destiny and it was up to her to set the pace.

“Come here,” she told me.

I set my glass to one side and stood up. Without needing any further instruction I offered her my wrist so that she could assist me as I arranged myself across her knees.

She turned back my skirt and rearranged my bumbags until they were concertinaed around my ankles. She stroked my red and swollen bum with the over-sized slapper at the tip of the crop and allowed me some time to settle in.

There was absolutely no question that the next few minutes were going to become extremely hot and sweaty. The whippy braided shaft would slice my flesh like a knife cutting through ripe fruit. I was almost delirious with raw adrenalin and anticipation.

Without warning she slashed the crop downwards and my body was instantly wracked by paroxysms of agony which my brain translated into pure ecstasy. I was immediately hurtled on my way to Planet Nix … To Be Continued

Malicious Obsessions and a Brand Spanking New Woody Toon

Those of you who have been keeping up with the Woody Back to School Unit saga and who have read the most recent installment, ‘Volume 23 – Stolen Bumbags’ will know that the dastardly Yvonne Godfrey and Janet Mitchell were captured after their ill-fated attempt to kidnap Cat Cassidy and hold her for ransom. For their troubles they have been sent back to the unit and assigned to the role of full-time grubbies.

You will also be aware that the evil Patty Hodge hasn’t been having it all her own way of late. To avoid being sacked she was forced to spend a week dressed in clobber and suffer the humiliation of acting as Deborah Morton’s personal grubby. Patty is a woman who harbors a grudge and becomes maliciously obsessed with her enemies. She had never liked Deborah but now Debs becomes her bête noir. Famously Patty steals a pair of Deborah’s bumbags and every night she stretches them over an effigy and ritualistically cuts them to tatters with her wye-tipped canes. She announces a ‘Get Morton’ campaign and summons Yvonne and Janet to her study.

Yvonne and Janet are alarmed when she instructs them to dig up some dirt on Debs. Since being captured and sent back to Woodys they have been fitted with ankle transponders and their every movement can be tracked. When they object to the impossible mission Patty threatens to bend them over her desk and thrash them. Both women had experienced the unpleasant sensation of being beaten bandy by Patty and gloomily promise that they will see what they can do.

On Friday evening they learn that Mr Humphries is hosting an off-site meeting for members of the Elite and that the landing that houses the Phase 7 inmates will be unoccupied. They sneak up to Debs study in search of any material that might potentially make trouble for her.

Unfortunately for Yvonne and Janet Mr Humphries has learned of the ‘Get Morton’ campaign and has a plan in place to catch the two be-yotch’s in the act of trying to stitch her up like a kipper. They are startled by the arrival of Claire Brooks and Melons waving red-cards and canes.

At first Yvonne and Janet assume that they will be taken up to the library to be caned but quickly learn that Claire and Melons have other plans for their silk-covered rear ends. They find themselves being escorted out of the building and into the center of the quadrangle. Despite their vehement protests they are forced to bend over the edge of the fountain wearing nothing more than silk jimjams. The Woody gals hang out of windows, glugging champagne that the Bounder has made available at five squids a glass, and whoop and holler as the two evil creatures are treated to running benders from two of the world’s most skilled disciplinarians.

By nature Debs Morton is not a malicious creature but she cannot help but feel a sense of satisfaction as she watches her two arch-nemeses being whopped in such spectacular style.

Despite her natural satisfaction at the outcome of this episode Deborah ruefully confides in her chums that she still feels like a large target has been painted on her bumbags and that every day it seems to get larger … if you want to know how Debs fares in her struggle with the evil Patty then check back next Wednesday when we’ll be releasing the next installment, ‘Volume 24 – The Sting’ absolutely FREE for download.

Occasionally Our Man in Phuket, Dave Ell, sends me various work in progress versions of the toons that we commission. This week I decided to post two versions. The first is the story prior to the dialogue being added and I think it really shows his great skill as an artist and the ability to tell a story with or without words … it is definitely great fun creating these toons to compliment the books and a real pleasure working with Dave … he is a free-lance artist available for commission so if you have ever thought of having a cartoon drawn featuring you and your partner, or any other fantasy for that matter, I would encourage you to contact him … he is relatively inexpensive and has always managed to deliver even when he receives my briefs late in the week or when he is recovering from a monumental hangover after enjoying a few scoops at the many beach bars of Phuket … so kick back and enjoy the new toon’s … tomorrow we’ll be hearing more from Miss Nixdown Nixon so don’t forget to stop back … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

 

 

Who Stole Those Bumbags? … A Spank Filled New FREE Woody Book

Okay … Okay … You wanted to know the answers to such major questions as … Who stole Deborah Morton’s bumbags? … Are you up to date on the latest Whop Junkie Voodoo Rituals? … What exactly is Defenestration and The Waffle Weave Effect? … What have Ptolemy the Twelfth and his daughter got to do with Woodys? … Who was Theresa Berkeley? … Who was the last gal in Modern history to be formally Horsed and Birched? … and Who deliveries Lady Macbeth soliloquies while naked as a jay-bird? … well all you need to do is download today’s absolutely FREE new release ‘Volume 23 – Stolen Bumbags’ … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Stolen Bumbags, Voodoo Rituals and much, much more.

Who stole Deborah Morton’s bumbags? … Are you up to date on the latest Whop Junkie Voodoo Rituals? … What exactly is Defenestration and The Waffle Weave Effect? … What have Ptolemy the Twelfth and his daughter got to do with Woodys? … Who was Theresa Berkeley? … Who was the last gal in Modern history to be formally Horsed and Birched? … and Who deliveries Lady Macbeth soliloquies while naked as a jay-bird? … if any of these questions piqued your antenna the answers to these important issues and much, much more are all revealed in the latest spank-filled installment of the Woody back to School Unit saga.

‘Volume 23 – Stolen Bumbags’ will be available absolutely FREE for download in pdf format on Wednesday 23rd June … so set your calendars.

Launch day of Volume 23 will, of course, coincide with my fellow countrymen stepping out to once again grace the turf of a South African football field … I use the term grace rather facetiously as so far they have been a complete disgrace … as another performance of the caliber of the past two may cause the generally cool, calm and collected RH to have a serious pout I shall be sure to post the latest book before kick-off time in case I feel inclined to spit out my dummy and retire to my scratch for several days … so be warned … if I disappear for a short period you can blame the most misguided Italian to stink up the place since Benito Mussolini was obliged to hand in his ticket … as you can tell I don’t take the beautiful game too seriously … until then feel free to have a good old rummage about, there’s lots to read and see and it’s all absolutely FREE and commercial-free … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Thrashed by a Goddess – More from Miss Nixdown Nixon

Yesterday I did a little house-keeping on the page, I have added a few one-click banners to different sites and cleaned up my blog-roll. I hope that I have included everyone who is generous enough to have included me on their pages … if I have missed you or you would like to be included on my page please do not hesitate to contact me and I’m sure I can accommodate … also if any of you have little (120×60 pixel) banners that you would like displayed please send them to me in jpeg or png format … however, I do not and will not include links to primarily commercial ventures … I have nothing against commercial sites but that is not what this blog was established for so please quit asking as I will continue to decline … thanks in advance.

In my update of the blog-roll I did take the opportunity to add a wonderful new site, Mischief Managed, authored by Rayne (she has the greatest blog addy ‘solemnly swear up to no good!’). Miss Rayne has composed a blog that I think epitomizes what blogging should be about … it is a highly personalized but delightfully irreverent look at her inner spankette … it is fun, well-thought out and it doesn’t do any harm that she is a super writer … so well done Rayne and long may you blog.

Now it is time to continue to explore the more obscure elements of Miss Nixdown Nixon’s mind … I must confess that when I decided to take on Nix I had absolutely no idea where this would go and to be honest with you I am no more enlightened at the end of four chapters … hell why would I? I’m just the author … still it’s fun and as long as I enjoy writing a piece I generally persevere … hey it’s Sunday and thankfully the English football team are not playing and ruining my day … so join me in a serious Bloody Mary … take a load-off and kick back and join me in the investigation of the depravities of Nixdown’s mind … (just click here for Chapters 1 and 2 in case you missed them) … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Chapter 3 – Thrashed by a Goddess

Although my father maintained a beautiful sea-shore house in Somerset he and Petron spent much of the year in Paris and other European locales. So at the age of eleven I was shipped off to boarding school. After a childhood of travelling with my father and living on an unpredictable timetable I was not best suited to the rigors and regimen of boarding school life.

The first of the schools I attended was considered amongst the most prestigious in the country and was certainly amongst the most expensive. It was filled with members of the aristocracy and the daughters of the landed gentry. As the off-spring of a self-made film director I was looked down upon as a parvenu. The gals were a prissy and self-important lot and none more so than the four gals who were known as ‘The Goddesses’.

The four Goddesses were comprised of the Head-Gal and her Deputy and the Captains of the two houses. We were expected to address them as Goddess Ponsonby-Jones, Goddess Seighton-Holmes, or whatever their stuffy names might be.

Nobody seemed to think it the least bit queer to have to say, “Yes, Goddess,” or “No, Goddess”, nobody that is except me who considered it ridiculous.

It was probably from these early experiences that I developed my sense of the absurd and the healthy cynicism of which I am often accused.

I had not long been at this hell-hole before I was summoned to the Head-Gals Chambers.

When I arrived the four Goddesses were waiting for me in all their pompous splendor. The Head-Gal, Goddess Ponsonby-Jones did most of the gabbing, but it turned out that another be-yotch, Goddess Seighton-Holmes was the real villain of the piece.

I was informed that earlier in the evening I had been guilty of ‘Gobbing a Goddess’! Apparently I had passed this be-yotch Seighton-Holmes in the quadrangle and had the audacity to go about my business without stopping and saying, “Good evening Goddess, is there anything I can do to assist you?” She had taken this as a personal slight and felt that she had been well and truly ‘gobbed’ as such behavior was so quaintly termed.

I remember staring at them as if they were aliens from a different planet, which in many ways they were. I muttered some form of an apology although I did not feel in the least bit apologetic, but it didn’t really matter anyway. A cane was produced and I was informed that I was to be thrashed.

I did not take this news well but they gave me a choice. I could either bend over the back of the sofa under my own steam or they would physically hold me down. Needless to say I bent over.

I was so angry that the caning itself did not seem to hurt much. Once Ponsonby-Jones was finished and I was allowed to return to the upright I felt I had no option. I hacked her in the shins!

This resulted in a second caning, which I must admit did hurt rather considerably, although I never let them see that.

This ridiculous incident cultivated my serious dislike for being formally punished which continues to this day. I felt that it was ridiculous that these be-yotch’s had the power to bend me over and beat my arse with a whippy rattan cane.

My stay at the school was an unhappy one, I was at constant war with the Goddesses and gobbed them at every opportunity. They, of course, thrashed me whenever they had a chance. I always felt the need to retaliate with shin-hacking which always guaranteed me a few more strokes.

I actually remained enrolled at the school for almost three years. I think that my father’s generous gifts of new libraries and extensions to the facilities had more to do with that than their desire to retain me as a pupil. After all my father probably had more loot than the combined chaps of the aristocratic bumpkins put together.

I was thrashed fifteen times during my stay. That may not seem a lot when compared to the records of my dear chums Debs, Claire and the Bounder but to put it in perspective most girls at the school went through entire careers getting the cane only once or twice, so clearly I was not popular with the be-yotch Goddesses.

Not that my time was entirely wasted. I wiled away my time by honing my art of seduction and subsidized my allowance giving lessons in French-kissing and the fine art of cunnilingus.

Eventually I was booted out and started a rather peripatetic education. Most schools were loathe to enroll somebody who had an expulsion on their records. I was generally taken on for a probationary period and was rarely invited to extend my stay.

I picked up a few more canings along the way and my shin-kicking responses generally sped up my early evictions.

My final educational hoorah was rather spectacular. I had been enrolled at yet another prissy institute and had immediately busied myself with seducing several members of the Upper Sixth form. Unfortunately I fell foul of the Headgirl.

She was hankering for a little Nicola Jane action but I refused her overtures. After all she had recently bent me over for six of the best and I had standards, bedding down with her would have been tantamount to sleeping with the enemy.

She took out her spite by reporting my activities to the Grand Dame and one morning I was summoned onto the stage in morning assembly and publicly denounced as a degenerate. I was caned in front of the whole school.

I felt I had little choice but to retaliate and for once I didn’t consider shin-hacking to be the appropriate response to being publicly caned so I procured some explosives and fire-bombed the be-yotch’s car. Sadly she wasn’t in it.

As you can tell I was an unlikely candidate for developing a penchant for recreational spanking.

Chapter 4 – Recreational Spanking

Penny Ann did not hold back. She knows my tastes and knows that I do not spend time across her knee’s to indulge in a gentle paddy-whacking.

She had me tucked into the crease of her lap with her arm around my waist. I couldn’t have escaped if I had wanted to. Penelope Ann is phenomenally strong. She was brought up on a farm in East Anglia and despite her chaps being well-heeled and having plenty of staff she was expected to lend a hand in working the land.

I love the feeling of her leather gloved palm rebounding from my naked flesh. I love the sensual leather infused smell of the tack-room and the flickering candle-light. I was in Nixdown heaven and the night had only just begun.

My first foray into recreational spanking was not actually that recreational at all.

I was working on my first movie as an assistant director and dating one of the camera-men, a hunk of a chap.

One evening we had arranged to meet for dinner and for reasons long forgotten I was several hours late. He was furious and when we got back to his apartment he put me over his knee, flipped back my skirt and gave me a damn good spanking.

Needless to say I was outraged and responded in typical Nixdown fashion by hacking him in the shins, slapping him around the kisser and storming off in a high old snit.

However, when I got home I found myself curiously aroused by the memory and found it impossible to sleep. There was nothing else for it, I returned to his apartment and demanded that he Rodger my eyes out, but only after he had put me over his knee for a second time a spanked me until I squeaked. The rest as they say is history.

The heat in my bottom was growing in intensity and I could not help but wriggle and squirm a little under the deluge of spanks. As I squirmed I could feel the softness of the fabric of my blouse against the flesh of my tummy, it was a deliciously exotic sensation.

Recently my clobber consultant sent me samples of a new fabric she had found at one of my favorite tailors in the backstreets of Ho Chi Minh City. It is basically two layers bonded together. The external layer of the garment is a crisp cotton that holds its creases perfectly and its stiffened collar is perfectly spread to accent a well-knotted tie. The secondary internal lining is a beautiful soft and luscious silk.

My chums josh me about my passion for clobber but anybody who tries out well crafted clobber is an instant convert.

My chum Deborah Morton has always been something of a hobo. Even when she was famous and always in the newspapers she always hid under baseball caps, over-sized leather jackets and sweat-pants. The only thing that she ever seemed to spend any money on was cowboy boots, of which she has an extensive collection.

At Woodys she was amongst the most clobber challenged gals in the unit and took numerous unnecessary excursions over Katie Becks lap to have her rump roasted with a leather soled slipper for clobber abuse. I put it down to that cheap catalogue crap she insists on buying. It is a shame really because she is a pretty little thing and I always thought that she would brush up nicely.

When Deborah was promoted to Deputy Red-shirt I decided that it was time to take her in hand. I flew my clobber consultant out to Ibiza, where we were all spending furlough, and had Debs measured up for tailored clobber. She made a terrible fuss about the expense. It is not that she is a tight-wad but she is squirreling away every penny to support herself and her team when she returns to the tennis circuit next year. I reassured her that my father had generously approved the ‘Morton Makeover’ budget. She finally rather poutily succumbed and now she is a convert to my style of radical chic. This is fortunate because she’s back in the news these days and is perceived as an icon for the zeitgeist of Whops and Clobber and it wouldn’t do to have a hobo as our representative. But I digress.

Penny Ann rearranged me in her lap, making sure that I was teed up and primed. I knew what to expect. She was preparing to blitz me.

The blitz is really the heart and soul of a spanking. She had been slowly and methodically smacking my bottom in a predictable tempo, working up one cheek and back down the other. Every spank designed to build up the heat and increase the discoloration of my sitmedown. By then I was deep in the zone and perfectly mentally prepared to be blitzed.

Actually no matter how experienced or whop hardened you become you are never truly prepared to be blitzed. The spanks rained down fast and furious. I couldn’t help myself, I gyrated and kicked my legs spastically. I punched the air and shook my head in bewilderment as her leather hand landed randomly in an alarmingly unpredictable manner. A blitz attack may only last a few seconds but it seems like an eternity.

I lay panting and inert across her knees trying to get my breath back and to stop my pounding heart from leaping out from below my blouse. It was a dizzying sensation and I was in Nixdown heaven. It was clearly time for champagne. … To Be Continued

A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixon – A New Woody Project

Today we launch the start of a new and ambitious writing project. Having enjoyed some success with the two earlier ‘A Life in the Day’ books featuring Jojo and Debs I have succumbed to the temptation of taking on the divinely debauched Miss Nixdown Nixon. For a gentleman of a certain age writing in the first person narrative through the eyes of a woman in her mid-twenties is something of a challenge so we’ll just have to see how it goes … I hope you enjoy this first installment … Bottoms Up! … RH

Chapter 1 – It Started with a Spanking

I wake up in a make-shift straw bed in the tack room of the stable complex. It is only five-thirty in the morning but I am an early riser. My step-mother, Petron, and I used to exercise the horses at dawn, along the beaches outside our home when I was still in the idyllic throes of childhood.

Penny Ann is still sleeping and breathing gently. She has a slightly blissful smile on her face.

I pad barefoot across to the sink and brush my teeth and try to straighten my hair a little. Then I collect my clobber and quickly dress, doing my best not to disturb Pen.

Once I am fully dressed I lean down and kiss her gently. Her eyes flicker open and she smiles sleepily.

“I have to run,” I tell her. “I’m on duty at seven and I need to get some coffee and take a shower. Thanks for last night.”

She gives me a small sleep-giggle. I kiss her again and then cut along.

There is nobody about as I cut across the quadrangle and go into the main house. I head over to the cafeteria in search of java.

I find Debs Morton standing by the machine waiting for it to heat up. She is dressed in training sweats and is on her way for her morning run with Jane Lummell, who is her tennis coach. We often meet at this time of the morning, me on the way home from my trysts with Pen and Debs off on her way to start her busy day.

She grins at me, “So how was it?” She asks cheerily.

“Absolutely divine,” I tell her and I’m not lying. My bum is still tingling deliciously.

We started last evening’s activities with me stretched out across Penny Ann’s lap for a straight-forward, good old fashioned spanking.

When I arrived at the stable Penny Ann was already waiting. She had lit a number of unscented candles and I could see an ice bucket with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot that we would enjoy in the fullness of time.

Penny Ann is a statuesque gal, standing five-feet nine inches in her stockinged feet, which is somewhat taller than little old me.

She was dressed in a black five button riding jacket over a white linen shirt that I bought her the other day and a black silk tie. Her strong legs were shoe-horned into form-fitting charcoal grey jodhpurs that were tucked into knee-high black riding boots. She was holding a braided riding crop between her gloved hands.

Pen wears her mass of blonde curls mussed up on the top of her head. She has strong features dominated by large blue eyes and radiates health. She is my English rose.

We did not waste time with niceties.

“Remove your blazer and place your hands on your head,” she instructed me as soon as I walked through the door.

Penny Ann is a quiet and gentle gal by nature but she served a year in the role of Red-shirt at the unit and was responsible for disciplining hundreds of inmates. She taught herself the art of exuding strength and patrician authority.

I did as I was told.

Penny stood up and set the crop to one side. She took off her black leather gloves and slowly unfastened the five buttons down the front of her jacket.

The stable was quite dark, with just the candles flickering and a little light from the moon and the stars. It was serenely silent with the only sound the occasional snort from the horses in their stalls.

Pen shrugged off her jacket and hung it up beside my red and black striped blazer.

The white cotton and silk material of her blouse clung to her upper torso like a second skin. She was wearing a thick leather belt around her waist that accentuated her hour-glass figure. I thought she looked magnificent.

She rolled back the sleeves of her shirt, unfastened the top button and loosened her tie. She retrieved her gloves and pulled them on.

She walked over and stood before me. As I have said she is significantly taller than me and I had to tilt my head upwards to meet her coolly steel gaze.

She told me to lower my arms and then took me firmly by the wrist. “Come with me, young lady,” she told me and started to stride purposefully across the stables towards a conveniently positioned bale of hay.

I had to scurry a little to keep up in order that I was not being dragged, which would have been a tad undignified.

We reached the bale of hay and she sat down. In one fluid movement she gave my wrist a tug and pulled me downwards across her lap.

She was all business, flipping back my short skirt and rolling down my bumbags.

“Stretch out,” she commanded. “I intend to give you a damn good spanking.”

I shuffled into position and felt myself being pulled tightly into the crease of her lap. I feel the leather of her glove tapping down on my upturned naked flesh and then she raised her arm in the air and brought it down with an explosive smack.

It was not long before I felt the surface of my bum beginning to warm up delightfully.

Chapter 2 – Degenerate

Penny Ann and I have been an item for nearly eighteen months now. I know that on the face of it we seem an unlikely couple. Penny Ann is rather refined and reserved, which is the complete anti-thesis of yours truly.

I am well aware that my reputation precedes me and that Pen’s closest chums counseled her to give me a wide berth. I can’t say that I really blame them as I suppose I have always reveled in my reputation as a degenerate.

Actually I feel that degenerate might be a little harsh; secretly I prefer to consider myself to have liberal tendencies. However, I have kind of embraced the notion of degeneracy since the Grand Dame at one of the many schools that I attended felt the need to publicly denounce me as such in a crowded assembly hall.

We have known each other for yonks, dating back to the glorious days when we rode competitively against each other and then on the same national team that swept the continent winning trophies and rosettes wherever we went. ‘We’ being Penny Ann, Jojo, Claire Brooks and I.

Penelope Ann Evans was the eldest amongst us and the Captain of the team. She was always quiet and reserved but she was a fabulous rider and led by example.

What a team we were. My dearest, life-long chum Jojo was the heart and soul of the team. On the rare occasions things were not going too well she would rally us and inspire us with her fearless performances.

Claire Brooks always looked as if she had stepped off the cover of Country Life. Long and lithe, pristine and elegant, and then she would open her mouth. Claire’s mother used to attend most meets and I can’t tell you how many times we witnessed poor old Claire being unceremoniously yanked across her mother’s knees to be soundly spanked with a wood-backed hairbrush for potty-mouthing, regardless of the audience.

I was the problem-child of the team due to the fact I was often between schools due to my unfortunate habit of being expelled.

When I was unavailable our first reserve Sarah Forsham-Smythe would take my place. Sarah of course is the daughter of the billionairess Melissa Forsham-Smythe. Melissa was always apoplectic that her off-spring was not a first choice and it is only recently that we have learned the extremes that she was willing to go to in order for her daughter to get to ride in the Olympics.

Pen and I were good chums but we were so very different I never considered her as a target for a potential conquest.

We were all gob-smacked when Penny Ann failed a urine test before a major event and was sentenced to seven years at Woodys under the recently enacted Anti-Ladette laws. A more unlikely Ladette would be hard to imagine.

Jojo took over as Team Captain and Sarah became a permanent fixture on the squad. We had no idea that within the next two years that the team would be decimated and that Jojo, Claire and I would all be fitted out for clobber.

Around this time Jojo and I started our Creative Arts company. Jojo concentrated on theater and the production of industrial size sculptures. I had decided to follow in my father’s footsteps and work behind the camera.

My father is Nicolas Nixon and her has been directing and producing movies for over thirty years. He has never been Hollywood mainstream but his films have played to packed movie houses all over Europe. He is considered to be a cultural icon in Czechoslovakia.

I was brought up surrounded by exotic artistic specimens and none more so than my step-mother Petron. I never really knew my birth mother as she died in a car crash when I was barely able to walk.

Petron was my father’s muse and had starred in his earliest films and they married two years after my mother’s untimely passing. She is French and extraordinarily beautiful. She coached me in the ways of the world at a very young age.

I started out making music videos. It was tremendous fun and I fancied myself as a rather racy artist working on the cutting edge. In hindsight those early videos were somewhat naïve and pedestrian although at the time I considered them to be very risqué.

I had not yet discovered my inner spankette and it was not until slightly later that I began to include the BDSM themes that caused me to suffer considerable harassment from the Dark Agents of the System and were used as an excuse to bang me up at Woodys.

In fact I am a rather unlikely candidate for my chosen fetish as my early experiences of corporal punishment were far from erotic … To Be Continued

Two Spanking New Toons for the Price of One … A Tale of Unsuccessful Reform

Today’s spanking new toon features two of my favorite characters from the Woody Back to School Unit Saga. The engagingly roguish Bounder has played a starring role in several previous toons and today she is joined by another of my Woody favorites … Miss Lisa Sutton, aka the Minxster.

I have actually been writing the Lisa character for many years and she is loosely based upon a charming young lady whose acquaintance I made back in the early 1980’s. Lisa, (name changed to protect the innocent), was briefly part of the ‘Nixdown Set’, a group of somewhat notorious young ladies who were active in the underground London BDSM scene.

In London there is a restaurant known as School Dinners, which has now metamorphosed into a lucrative commercial venture which is mostly frequented by the Great Unwashed out and about on stag and hen parties or used for office celebrations by bankers and Civil Servants. However, when it first opened in the late 1970’s in the Barracuda Club on Baker Street it was a rather more interesting and eclectic spot. Most of the waitresses were active spankettes, several of whom were quite well known spanking models and featured in the publications of auteurs such as Harrison Marks. During the brief time I knew her Lisa worked at the club as a waitress and she was an active and enthusiastic member of the London spanking party scene.

She had an interesting back-story as she is the only woman of our taste that I have ever met who discovered her inner spankette by not being spanked, or not being caned to be more precise.

Apparently she attended a very respectable all-girls independent school in North London and during one of her senior years she and a group of friends decided to play truant. They were unfortunately caught and marched back to school and paraded before the principal.

This incident occurred in the late ‘70’s around the time that the use of the cane was in the process of being abolished. According to Lisa, at the school she attended, the use of corporal punishment was still an available option to the principal but by that time was only used as a last resort.

Apparently the principal was not immediately available to interview the miscreants and they were left to nervously wait outside her study. Amongst the group was one girl who had actually experienced the cane and she spent the time terrifying her friends with her account of the experience. Lisa said that by the time they were finally brought into the study she was in a blue funk.

Fortunately, they escaped the ultimate penalty and were instead ‘gated’ for the remainder of the term. Lisa told me that their lucky escape was largely due to the fact that she was something of a stellar student and her lapse was considered uncharacteristic. She said that she was enormously relieved by her escape and assured me that this experience had no erotic overtones at the time.

However, she confided that as time went on she found herself engaging in day-dreams/fantasies that involved her in a variety of scenario’s that featured her being caught in acts of wrongdoing and waiting to learn her fate. She said that at first she did not fantasize about the actual punishments but that it was the state of nervous suspense that intrigued her. It was not until later that she would begin to extend her daydreams to actually being punished.

She left school and attended university, attaining an honors degree in Physics and was accepted into a Masters program. She told me that at college she had occasionally engaged chaps that she was dating in playing out her fantasies but they had shown little interest and had demonstrated a disappointing ineptitude in the fine art of spanking.

Before continuing on her academic path she elected to take a year off to travel and rather boldly she explored the BDSM scenes in both New York and San Francisco. Upon returning home she took the job at School Dinners for a lark, (plus the tips were exceptional), and soon began to participate in the London spanking party scene.

She was a highly amusing and articulate young lady and constantly wrestled with the dilemma between continuing to indulge herself in the somewhat stress-free life of being a spanking waitress and returning to the hallowed halls of academia to struggle with the complexities of the world of advanced physics. She would kvetch amusingly about her intentions to reform.

I have no idea what became of her as she disappeared from our circle rather abruptly, I rather fancy that she had a falling out with Nixdown, but she did leave me with enough enduring memories and more than enough little factoids to create the character of Lisa Sutton.

In the Woody Back to School Unit saga Lisa establishes herself as a permanent fixture amongst the highest echelons of the Hall of Shame. However, unlike mega-minxes such as Jojo, Debs and Cassie Cassy who pursue whops as a competitive sport and are constantly vying for poll position on the Big BUTT Lisa has no such lofty aspirations. Her high rank on the Hall of Shame is solely due to her unfortunate perennial naughtiness.

In today’s toon Lisa is once again determined to embark upon a program of reform and is so confident in the success of her new campaign that she is even willing to stake large quantities of wedge with the Bounder.

Unfortunately, as usual, her over-active naughty gene interferes with her plans and she’s soon back in Mr Humphries office, bending over for whops, causing her to lament that “I’m a very naughty gal, but I’m not a bad gal!!!” … Poor Lisa.

As usual Our Man in Phuket Dave Ell has done a wonderful job bringing Lisa and the Bounder to life … there was a minor discrepancy in the first rendition of the toon which Dave kindly rectified … however despite the greater accuracy of the revised version I couldn’t make up my mind which I preferred so I have posted them both for your entertainment so enjoy two for the price of one … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

 

Volume 22 – Broken Link Fixed – My Thanks to Indy

My thanks to Indy from the awesome Not So Submissive blog for kindly pointing out that the link to ‘Volume 22 – The Man from Berlin’ in last night’s post was not working as advertized … now fixed and frankly I blame jet-lag and the administrative staff, and that is my story and I am sticking to it  … it is also now available in Library I … sorry for the inconvenience … Bottoms Up! … RH

Who is the Man from Berlin? Download Wednesdays FREE book and find out

Another week has sped past and its Woody Wednesday and time for our regular release of the latest installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga. As usual ‘Volume 22 – The Man from Berlin’ is available absolutely FREE for download in pdf format by simply clicking on the red title link.

There are plenty of thrills and spills in this latest installment and a surfeit of spanking good fun … I am still combating the rigors of extreme jet-lag so without further ado I invite you to download the book and then kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

More Adventures and Misadventures from the Woody Gals Coming Soon!!!

After a rather grueling and mind-numbingly boring trek across the globe RH is severely jet-lagged but thankfully back in the warmth of the bosom of his family … in this week’s installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 22 – The Man from Berlin’, the Woody Gals continue to be threatened by the pesky Yoofs and the wicked be-yotch Melissa Forsham-Smythe. The new episode will be available for FREE download on Wednesday June 16th so set your calendars.

When I launched last week’s segment, ‘Volume 21 – The Return of the Ice Maiden’ I wondered how regular readers would respond to the slight diversions from the central spanking theme … my best barometer are the reading stats over at the Kilahara Library of Spanking Literature and I was gratified to find that the book received one of my best ever first-week readerships.

It was always been my intention to create a body of work (I hope that doesn’t sound pretentious) that contained a broad cast of characters that exist in a recognizable environment and in order to achieve that I have felt the need to occasionally divert from the swishes and thwacks of whippy rattan rebounding off tautened navy blue gossamer bumbags. Nonetheless, even during these slight meanderings spanking remains the heart and soul of the stories and central to the theme of the adventures and misadventures of Jojo and her chums.

I was also gratified to see the incredible response to the release of the full-length version of ‘A Life in the Day of Jojo Heyworth’. As I am a male of a certain age writing through the eyes of a young woman in her mid-twenties is a challenge but I have to say that it has been interesting so my next writing adventure is to take on the challenge of describing a life in the day through the eyes of the deliciously debauched Nixdown Nixon … I have no idea how that will go but as long as I am enjoying myself I shall persevere and hopefully you will join me on my odyssey.

In the meantime please take some time and rummage through the libraries and have a good chuckle at the toons in the galleries … will be back shortly … Bottoms Up! … RH

Kidnapped!!! Another Spanking Hot Toon

For those of you have downloaded the latest FREE installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 21 – The Return of the Ice Maiden’, (and shame on you if you haven’t), I’m sure that you will agree that this brand spanking new original toon compliments the book marvelously.

Once again it was a real challenge to come up with a brief that captured this episode of dastardly skullduggery and chicanery in just one brief toon … as you can see My Man in Phuket Dave Ell has responded by cranking out a magnificent exhibition of his inimitable craft. As I have said before I am still learning about the art of creating original cartoons and it is as much about what to leave out as what to include.

For those of you who haven’t read the book and are scratching your heads at this latest rendition here’s the skinny behind the story-line.

The Ice Maiden of the title is none other than Yvonne Godfrey, the former tyrannical Commandant of the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers, aka as the ‘SS’, during the heinous days of Operation Scorched Arse.

Godders, as she is known to her sycophantic cronies, or Goddess, as she prefers to pronounce it, put the ‘Be’ in Be-Yotch. For several years she was the most powerful female on the board of directors of the criminal gang known as the Confederacy of Yoofs. After years of unsuccessfully attempting to convict her by conventional means the Dark Agents of the System were summoned and she was charged under the more flexible Anti-Ladette laws. During the hearing she was branded as ‘A Menace to Society’. A reputation she positively revels in.

Sentenced to seven years at the Woody Back to School Unit without the possibility of parole she is reunited with another former senior Yoof, Katie Beck. She is immediately introduced to Patty Hodge who instructs Katie to recruit Yvonne and to covertly train her in the abuse of the rules, regulations and protocols in preparation for embarking upon a rule of terror and tyranny.

The final year of Yvonne’s sentence at the unit coincides with Ms Lawton’s launch of the austere regime known in Woody lore as Operation Scorched Arse. The former principal announces a zero-tolerance policy and brands the units most notorious mega-minxes as the ‘Dirty Dozen’ and declares war on their bumbags.

Unshackled by the normal restrictions placed upon the prefects Yvonne Godfrey is free to co-ordinate her sycophantic cronies into a heinous and cruel division of the Elite known as the ‘Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers’.

Yvonne and her troops proceed to cut the bumbags of the mega-minxes to tatters at a record-breaking pace. The likes of Jojo, Nixdown, Rosemary, and Debs in particular are targeted ruthlessly and spend many painful hours touching their toes in front of the fireplace upstairs in the infamous library, aka as the ‘Punishment Room’.

Characteristically the Woody gals refuse to be cowed by the heinous regime and defiantly goof, gab, lark and prank uproariously despite the constant danger to their threadbare navy blue gossamer bumbags.

In the very popular volume of the saga, ‘Volume 4 – The Inmates Strike Back’, Ms Lawton finally returns to her senses and allows the mega-minxes to reap their revenge.

Having been released from the Unit Yvonne is tempted to revert to her criminal ways and after the Snobs and Rotters Tribunal she approaches the wicked be-yotch Melissa Forsham-Smythe and the Confederacy of Yoofs with an outrageous proposal.

She plans to kidnap Cat Cassidy and hold her for ransom. Unfortunately for Yvonne the Yoofs decide to mobilize a contingent of Scouser’s for the mission and it all goes pear-shaped in a heart-beat. For those of you unfamiliar with the term Scouser it refers to the inhabitants of a British city in the North of England otherwise known as Liverpool.

I originally hail from the glorious City of London and am a product of the great North/South divide and have little stock for Scousers. There are of course exceptions; Merseyside has managed to crank out a few greats, notably the Beatles and Steve Gerrard who will hopefully grace the World stage in South Africa with his outrageous talent and spirit. Oh and of course the most famous and brilliant Scouser of all is none other than my collaborator Dave Ell, although the world famous spanking illustrator now considers himself to be Thai royalty.

The daft and mainly inebriated Scousers make the grave mistake of snatching the Bounder during the caper. Bernadette is not best pleased to be bagged and gagged and proves quite a handful to the shaved-headed, tattooed and body pierced Yoofs taking an eye or two and several fingernails of flesh before she is subdued.

Bernadette Summers godfather is the notorious gangster Stacks Monroe and he does not take kindly to his treasured god-daughter being abducted and strapped down across a vaulting horse so that she can be thrashed by the evil Ice Maiden.

In order to fully appreciate the brilliance of Dave’s latest work of art I strongly encourage you to download the book(s) from Library I  … it’s Saturday, RH is wending his weary way back to the arms of My Beloved Jojo after a long stint on the road … so crack open a bevy or two, kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

 

Thrills and Spills at the Woody Unit in a Brand New FREE Book

It’s Wednesday once again and time for the launch of the latest installment in the Woody back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 21 – The Return of the Ice Maiden’ just click on the title for an absolutely FREE download in pdf format.

My apologies for this rather abbreviated post but the idiosyncratic vagaries of a paying  client are proving something of a disagreeable distraction … but fear not normal transmission will resume shortly … so, in the meantime, please feel free to download the latest story … kick-back and enjoy the shenanigans of the Woody Gals at you leisure … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Life in the Day of Jojo Heyworth – The Conclusion

For some months I have been posting intermittent episodes of the story ‘A Life in the Day of Jojo Heyworth’ and finally I am proud to launch the final three concluding chapters.

As a male of a certain age, writing first person narrative through the eyes of a female in her mid-twenties has been quite challenging. However as the subject matter is my own Beloved Jojo it has also been extremely enjoyable. Unusually Jojo has chosen not to comment during the work in progress so I hope that she will enjoy the final result as much as I enjoyed writing about her … Bottoms Up Jojo! … I have compiled the chapters into a complete book and it is available absolutely FREE for download in The Woody Library II … I hope you enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Chapter 36 – Highly Recommended

Just before midnight Mr Humphries announces that the limousines are waiting and that we should return to the facility.

Ellen and Mickey leave the VIP area to make sure that our exit is relatively painless. Our new found celebrity is quite flattering I suppose but getting through a restaurant filled with squiffy Woody fans can sometimes prove to be quite a chore.

Thankfully the main room only has a few stragglers and they just nod politely and some of them raise their glasses and toast us as we make our way to the side entrance.

Melons, Cat and the Butchers Twins are going off dancing at one of the Woody friendly night-clubs in town, the rest of us will return to the safety of the compound.

We hug and kiss Melons and wish her a great night and then climb into the leather luxury of the stretch-limousines.

Of course these luxurious chariots of transport are provided courtesy of Stacks Monroe, who has fingers in every pie imaginable. Conveniently, Cat Cassidy’s boyfriend Mark runs Stacks local operation and almost anything we need is readily available to us.

Oliver and Cassie come out to wave goodbye and Oliver has generously made sure that the ice-buckets in the back of the limos have been stocked with bottles of Veuve Clicquot for the short journey home.

We are all a little squiffy so the banter in the back of the limo is of the highest quality and in less than twenty minutes we are cruising through the huge gates of the facility.

The driveway to the facility is lined with ancient Oaks, it is quite impressive. We pull up in front of the main building and clamber out. The venue that Ms Lawton selected for the facility used to be one of the most prestigious and expensive girls boarding schools in the country. It was called the Woody School which is where the name of the facility stems from.

Despite the fact that it is now tantamount to a prison, although it is more politely referred to as a ‘Government Correctional Institute’ it is a pretty swanky address. It sits in 70 acres of woodlands located on the stunning Sussex Downs.

The main building is a huge affair built on four storeys with several wings. Behind the main building there is a quadrangle and cloisters, a bell-tower and a huge recreation area. Elsewhere there is the Great Hall, the science building, a wellness center and gymnasium, a chapel tennis courts, hockey fields, an orchard and an ornamental rose garden, and various converted barns that serve as accommodation units for the Brass and the Old Gals. Outside the walls are thousands of acres of unspoiled country-side leading all the way to the sea-shore. All in all it is not a bad place to live, if we weren’t prisoners of a dark and cynical government.

Nixdown hugs me goodnight. She has a twinkle in her eye and I suspect that she is planning on spending the night with Penny Ann over in the stables. Actually Pen and Nix are quite at liberty to spend the night together in Penny’s well-appointed quarters but Nixdown has a certain taste for tack-rooms, especially when she has a few cocktails inside her.

I bid my chums good night and am pleased when Mr Humphries slips his hand into mine and we stroll together towards the private cottage.

Once we are inside Mr Humphries tells me that there is a bottle of champers chilling in the fridge if I would care to fetch it. He also tells me that he has some calls to make. It is nearly one o’clock in the morning. I have no idea who he makes these strange late night calls too, when I ask he just smiles and never responds.

It is strange that I will marry a man I know almost nothing about. He rarely speaks about his past and never mentions his family.

I once asked Ms Lawton whether she knew anything about him and she told me a funny story. She said when the Ministry was considering him as her replacement the Minister told her that he came highly recommended. When she asked the Minister who had made the recommendations he scratched his head and admitted that he actually didn’t know, but that everybody he had spoken to had merely said that Mr Humphries came highly recommended.

Perhaps when I am a free woman and his wife he will let me into his dark secrets.

Chapter 37 – The Joys of Minxing

I go to the kitchen and collect an ice-bucket and the champagne. I pour two glasses and take them back to the living room. Mr Humphries is already in his study so I go and knock on the door. He winks at me but he is already on his speaker-phone so I back out gracefully.

I take my bubbly and go upstairs to change into my jimjams.

When I open the door to the bedroom the first thing I notice is a two-tailed leather tawse lying prominently on the duvet.

This comes as something of a surprise as it was not there when I left the bedroom and I do not remember him going upstairs before we left. That is too bizarre.

I take off my clobber and hang it up in the closet and fetch my red and black striped jimjams and put them on. I know what is expected so I pad across the room and take up position facing the wall. I place my hands on top of my head and touch the tip of my nose against the wood-paneling. I suspect Mr Humphries will be up in the next fifteen minutes to put me over his knee.

Six months ago, before I began my relationship with the Grand Master I had absolutely no interest in gratuitous whops. My pursuit of whops and competitiveness on the Big BUTT had nothing to do with liking going about the place sporting hot stripes in my bumbags. It was all about the love of the joys of minxing.

At school I was not a particularly naughty gal and rarely got into trouble. There was no spanking or corporal punishment so getting in trouble meant time-consuming visits to the detention room to write tedious lines which interfered with my two great passions, riding and running the theater group.

When I first arrived at Woodys I was still sporting a virgin arse so being put over my Personal Draper’s knee’s for my first training spankings was something of an eye-opener. So, too, were the copious rules, regulations and protocols that I was forced to read and memorize during my induction week. In fairness to Ms Lawton, she prided herself that she ran ‘the ship of no surprises’. It was all there laid out in black and white, the life I had ahead of me.

Every minute of our lives was carefully scheduled and the expectations for our behavior set-out in minute detail. More alarming, of course, was the extensive lists of the ramifications of misbehavior. It was immediately clear to me that life at Woodys was designed to be tough.

I got my first formal spanking during our first week in the lecture rooms. Predictably it was the odious Wart who inducted my bumbags. It was a very strange experience being hauled up in front of a group of young women I barely knew, put over the Wart’s knee and being given my first public dusting.

After lectures finished I was required to repair immediately to the Phase 7 landing to embark upon my grubbing duties. I was also required to inform Valerie, my mentor that I had been spanked.

She just shrugged and asked me “How was it?”

The question completely took be aback and I had no idea how to respond.

“Actually,” I reported, “it was most disagreeable.”

She just laughed and told me that I’d get used to it. I was not too sure about that.

A few days later Debs got into the action and took a trip over Stephanie Powell’s knee. I had never really ever seen a full-blooded spanking, except snippets in movies and productions of ‘Kiss me Kate’. It was quite an revelation watching Deborah draped out having her bumbags besieged by a flurry of spanks.

What I did not know at the time was that Debs had purposefully engineered her spanking out of some misguided sense of duty. In some ways it was a god-send for her as it seemed to pull her out of the deep depression that resulted from the horrible ‘anti-Debs’ campaign that featured daily in the skank-sheets owned by Melissa Forsham-Smythe. As I have said earlier it was a pivotal point in both of our lives.

As usual Cat Cassidy articulates it best when she says that “nobody much cares for being spanked or caned but there would be little point in minxing if there were no consequences.”

I heartily endorse that sentiment. It is sheer joy of the constant game of cat and mouse that we play with the Brass and the Elite that has made life bearable inside this place for so many years.

Once Debs had emerged from her dark place it became obvious that we were going to embark upon a contest, friendly of course but highly competitive. We were quickly and enthusiastically joined by Nixdown and Rosemary and I think that it’s safe to say that between us we have extended the art of minxdom to new and giddy heights. For six years the results of our mischief and mayhem have followed in our wake.

Chapter 38 – Gratuitous Spankings

It was not until Mr Humphries arrived on the scene that gratuitous spanking reared its head. They started at the Saturday Night Feasts.

We were all rather surprised when Mr Humphries sent out invitations to the first feast. He had already significantly changed our menu by firing the third-party caterers and had made Dotty and Cassie Cassy responsible for all matters regarding the provision of our daily tucker, and what a difference it made.

However, nothing had prepared us for the first feast. The Grand Master had limited the guest list to the highest echelons of the Hall of Shame. Of course all of the Famous Four were invited along with our closest comrades-in-arms.

The food was magnificent and the wines exquisite, but we would shortly learn the basis for his selection of guests.

Upon our arrival we had each been handed a small envelope and told we should not open them until permission was given. After dinner we were instructed to open the envelopes and found that they each contained a playing card. Mr Humphries informed us that the recipients of each of the four aces and the one-eyed jack would be spanked on the stage by Lady Victoria.

At first we were incredulous but after a few moments of telepathic communication around the table we just sighed and complied.

Of course I was one of the guests with the misfortune to be selected to be spanked and also got the somewhat dubious privilege of going first.

Now, of course, Vix was not handing out full-on punishment quality spankings but even so being dangled over her lap for a dozen quite meaty cracks of her ceremonial wood-backed hairbrush still got my attention.

We were all rather nonplussed by this turn of events and the following morning the gratuitous spankings were all the gab in the cafeteria when we convened for much needed Bloody Mary’s and mimosas.

At first the prevailing feeling seemed to be that we got quite enough whops in our daily lives without the introduction of gratuitous spanking into our social calendars.

Surprisingly those of us who had actually been required to participate in the after-dinner entertainment were amongst the least strident. To tell you the truth once I had got over my initial shock it hadn’t seemed all that bad. After all I was amongst my closest chums, we were having some fun and as I say Vix had not exactly been putting her arm into it.

There were still nay-sayer’s but when the invitations came out the following Saturday there was not a single refusal.

Around this time I began to feel that Mr Humphries might be something of a card-sharp. He introduced several different variations of the selection theme which all included playing cards. At the end of the first few feasts I found myself amongst the luckless recipients of the post-dinner spankings. I talked to my chums about my suspicions but they laughed and talked in tongues and if I remember correctly Debs tried to explain it was just a phenomenon known as centralized probabilistic theory, whatever that might mean? However I was always privileged to sit to the right of Mr Humphries and he never gave the slightest hint of any ‘Whop Jojo’ conspiracies so I kept my suspicions to myself.

We were about to break for the Xmas furlough and I was waiting for Nixdown to return from the stables where she was saying good-bye to Penny Ann. Most of the inmates had left the compound and I was at a loose end. Victoria dropped by to say ciao but had to hurry away. She asked me rather coyly why I didn’t go and buy a bottle of bubbles from the Bounder and go up and say Happy Christmas to Mr Humphries.

I have no idea what possessed me to follow this advice but I did. I was extremely nervous but he appeared to be delighted. We drank a glass or two and chatted about the upcoming furlough. He had been invited to the annual New Year’s bash at Brompton Castle and we joked about how much fun it would be. In the background I heard the sound of Nixdown’s father’s chopper landing on the hockey field so I prepared to make my graceful exit and then he kissed me.

He spanked me at the New Year’s Ball, just gently over the seat of my gown. I made the mistake of taunting him that he would be better off spanking me with a wet piece of lettuce. Without saying a word he responded by turning back my flowing skirt, rolling down my silk panties and thoroughly spanking me until my poor beleaguered bum was as red as two ripe tomatoes. I have given up taunting him since.

As our private relationship has developed I spend more time in residence at his cottage and a whole lot more time laid out across his knees with my bumbags around my ankles.

At first I didn’t know what to make of this. I am not naïve, I have been best chums with Nixdown for over a decade and have tried to understand her penchant for pain, but I have never equated her predilections with me.

I have always hated being over the knee in the ultimate pose of defenseless, subjugation but now when I hear Mr Humphries familiar tread on the stairwell I am excited and genuinely look forward to being head down, arse up across his lap.

I hear him slowly turning the door-knob and the excitement and sense of apprehension is almost over-whelming. He enters the room and closes the door, and that my friends is when I must close my own door. What goes on in our private chamber is our private business … Cya … Love Jojo.