Caned by the KGB

The bumbags of the inmates of the Woody Back to School Unit are often faced with curious new challenges and none greater than the arrival of the mysterious Russian Dame, Tatyana Kerimov.

The following extract from the Woody Back to School Unit Saga describes Tatyana’s introduction to the curious inmates (a longer extract appears below, just bear with me … lol):

Tatyana Kerimov wore a long hooded shroud. She walked with a slight limp and supported her weight with a silver handled walking stick as she approached the front of the stage in the assembly hall. She looked like a cross between Gandolph and Darth Vader. She bowed deeply at the waist. She flicked back her hood and exposed a wizened wrinkled face and iron-grey hair.

“Greetings, my students,” she said in a voice without a trace of an accent. “When we are rehearsing you will of course address me as Maestra.” She smiled. Her eyes had an unmistakable and slightly mischievous twinkle. “Otherwise I prefer a less formal approach; you may call me Madam Kerimov.”

It transpires that she was an old acquaintance of the former Grand Dame, Major Susan Lawton, from their days in Military Intelligence, where they had been on opposite sides of the Cold War.

Ms Lawton persuades Mr Humphries to employ Madam Kerimov as the replacement Dame in charge of Music, citing her credentials for the position. “She was one of the few women who exerted real power in the Kremlin and for some years she has been a musical director at the National Symphony and is one of the few female conductors’ in the world,” Ms Lawton tells the Grand Master. “She is here for a performance. A few days ago her sponsor, one of the oligarch’s, was arrested on charges of corruption. Tatyana has been warned that if she returns to Russia she will be charged as an accomplice. Strangely enough she is not enthusiastic about the prospect of fifteen years in Siberia.”

When Mr Humphries asks what her position would be regarding whops Ms Lawton just laughs. “Grand Master, she is ex-KGB and was trained at the Dzerzhinsky Academy,” she explains, “I very much doubt Tatyana will have much problem with the concept of whops.”

The inmates are fascinated by the shrouded Russian and cannot resist the temptation to test her mettle. Predictably it is Debs Morton who feels obliged to provoke her and in this extract from the Woody Back to School Unit saga Debs finds out what it’s like to be caned by the KGB.

Tatyana Kerimov’s first official order of business had been to bend Deborah Morton over the piano stool and beat her with a violin bow.

Jojo, Nix and Rosemary rolled their eyes and shook their heads hopelessly as they watched Deborah relentlessly prod, poke and provoke the new Dame on the block. It was a reversion to classic Debs behavior and the outcome was all too predictable. Despite her best chums earnest counseling Debs had pitched up in the music room on a mission. She had persistently interrupted Madam Kerimov’s amiable attempts to become acquainted with her new students and ignored repeated requests for her to raise her hand if she had something to say.

By halfway through the lesson Madam had finally grown exasperated at Deborah’s interruptions and limped up the aisle to confront her. In her ankle length hooded shroud the Russian resembled Rasputin the Mad Monk. Tatyana raised her walking stick and smacked it down loudly on the wooden desktop causing Deborah to involuntarily recoil in her seat. Madam Kerimov prodded Deborah in the chest with the tip of the stick, pushing her further back in her chair. The Dame swept back her hood and fixed Debs with a gimlet glare.

“Would you very much care for six?” she enquired. She slowly lifted the stick and deftly tilted Deborah’s chin upwards so that they were eyeball to eyeball.

“No Madam Kerimov,” spluttered Deborah hurriedly, “I must confess that I would not very much for care for six.” Fleetingly Debs cast her eyes down warily at the menacing walking stick. “But thank you for asking,” she added somewhat lamely.

Madam Kerimov lowered the stick, keeping her eyes fixed on Deborah’s. “Good,” she said. She prodded the stick at Debs chest again, “then the matter is closed.” She pulled her hood back over her head, turned away and limped back towards the front of the music room.

Deborah Morton stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry at the Dames retreating back.

Deborah unfastened the five buttons of her black blazer, shrugged it off and hung it over the back of her chair. She crossed the room and looked down into the glass topped cabinets that housed the collection of violin bows. She drummed her fingers nervously on the glass and looked over towards the Russian. Tatyana was standing at the front of the room leaning forward resting her weight on her walking stick with both hands on the silver handle. Debs couldn’t see the Dame’s face beneath the hood but she could feel her penetrating eyes drilling into her. Deborah shivered. She continued to stare down at the selection of bows. She raised the top of the first cabinet and reached in, running her fingers over each of the three bows on display. After a few seconds she closed the case and moved along to the next showcase. Briefly she looked down and then moved on again. Finally she stopped at a case that contained a single bow. With a heavy heart she raised the lid and with trembling fingers she reached in and extracted the familiar instrument.

The bow had been commissioned by Deborah’s former arch-nemesis Miss Whitton. She had purchased the instrument from a craftsman in Permanamburo who had taken the original design of Francois Tourte’s seventy five centimeter bow and perfected the balance of colophoany, oils and plasiticizeds to produce one of the most lethal beating weapons ever designed. Ms Whitton had the craftsman engrave the words ‘The Morton Special’ along the shaft of the bow.

Deborah handed the bow to the hooded Russian and then went and picked up the piano stool. She moved the stool to the center of the small stage and slowly bent forward, slithering her tummy across the padded seat and stretching herself out.

Bent in half with her arse considerably higher than her head Debs settled in to be whopped. “Piano Stools and Violin Bows”, she thought to herself, “that sounds like the title of a Rod Stewart song”, and then all hell broke loose in her bumbags.

Jojo, Nixdown and Rosemary watched attentively as Madam Kerimov tapped the violin bow down to gauge her distance. Debs lay prostrate and acquiescent across the low-slung piano stool, the hem of her skirt and the tail of her red shirt neatly folded back. The navy blue gossamer stretched tightly across her upturned buttocks.

Madam Kerimov raised the bow in the air and brought her arm down swiping. The resounding crack of the violin bow exploding off Deborah’s bumbags brought lectures all along the corridor to an immediate standstill.

Any lingering notions that Debs harbored that being beaten by Maestra Kerimov would be a privilege were instantly dispelled as the violin bow sliced across her upturned behind. The bow landed with such considerable force that Debs was surprised that the stool didn’t collapse beneath her. It was a stunning opener. Deborah’s legs crooked at the knees and her fists pummeled the floor in consternation.

“Holy shit,” mouthed Jojo.

Nixdown let out a low whistle.

Rosemary just stared with eyes as big as saucers.

The three chums were experiencing an eerie sense of déjà vu. It was almost six months since Deborah had last felt recklessly compelled to test the mettle of a new Music Dame and had been stunned to encounter the extraordinary talents of Suzy Scott. If Deborah’s uncharacteristically energetic reaction to the opening swipe was anything to judge by her chums feared that Debs had just embarked upon another excruciatingly painful learning experience.

Debs wriggled and squirmed before slumping back into position just in time for the second stroke to arrive. Deborah’s legs scissored spastically as shock-waves ricocheted around her central nervous system.

From beneath the cover of her hood Tatyana watched Deborah writhing on the piano stool. She waited patiently for Debs to settle down and stretch out again.

She raised the violin bow and brought it down with a third explosive crack.

Deborah’s head and shoulders snapped back, her face was contorted into a silent howl. She slumped forwards, panting audibly.

Momentarily she appeared to be trying to make herself as small as possible. Her knees and arms pressed inwards against the stool. Her buttocks were twitching visibly beneath her tautened bumbags.

Maestra prodded Deborah with the tip of the bow and gently tapped her knees and elbows, indicating that she needed to straighten out and get back into position. Very slowly Deborah complied.

The Maestra tapped the cane down, taking her time. Debs had maneuvered herself back into a full drape, her head well down between her outstretched arms, with just the tips of her fingers and toes touching the floor. Deborah was feeling slightly shell-shocked, the quality and power of the first three strokes had caught her off guard. She gritted her teeth as she felt the bow gently tapping down on her bumbags.

Debs body bucked and jerked, her backside wriggled frantically as the violin bow sliced across the sweet spot. It was another sensational strike. The sound of the fourth swipe of the cane rebounding off Deborah’s bumbags echoed all the way down the hallway. In the lecture rooms along the corridors the inmates were exchanging sage glances. There was no doubt in anybody’s mind that some poor soul was catching it extremely hot.

Maestra showed no signs of letting up; her arm swiped downwards and the arrival of the violin bow sent Deborah into another series of agitated convulsions.

There was a breathless hush in the music room. Jojo, Nix and Rosemary leaned forward with their elbows on their desk lids and their chins cupped in their hands. Maestra was standing over Deborah looking like the Grim Reaper in her hooded shroud. Taking her time and setting herself up for the closer.

The previous evening Tatyana had spent several hours on the practice range discussing whops and eliciting expert tips from Suzy Scott. Suzy had emphasized the importance of the closer. The Maestra took careful aim and brought her arm back.

Debs heart was pounding and there was a sheen of perspiration across her brow. She swallowed hard and tried to generate some moisture in her dry mouth. She felt the violin bow tapping down once, twice, thrice on the drum-tight fabric of her bumbags. She squeezed her eyes tight and waited to be propelled on the final leg of her voyage to hell and back.

If you liked the extract go to the Woodettes Storefront and BUY THE BOOK’s! You will not be disappointed! Lol! Bottoms Up! Thanks for stopping by … RH

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