Free Spanking Book Week Day 3 – Chapters 8 thru 11
As promised here are chapters 8 thru 11 of the Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber that The Woody Back to School Unit is making available absolutely free of charge to my visitors.
For those of you who missed the first two installments I have posted them in the sidebar for easy access … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH
Chapter 8
Inspection
Katie Beck had finished her sentence as an inmate of the Woody Back to School unit several years earlier and had left the facility to attend college under the graduation program available to inmates who had been successfully socially rehabilitated.
However, Katie hated being away from the unit, where she had acted as the all-powerful Red-shirt. Several years earlier while she was still incarcerated her parents had died tragically in a car accident. Generously Ms Lawton had formally adopted her to avoid a Court Appointed Guardian being appointed by the Dark Agents of the System. Katie had prevailed upon her guardian to allow her to return as a member of staff. Finally Ms Lawton had agreed and appointed her adopted daughter as an administrative assistant. Katie had been dissatisfied with her lowly status and had persuaded the Grand Dame to give her an official title of Matron and quickly wormed her way into a position as the Beak’s unofficial aide de camp.
The return of Katie had been unpopular with the inmates. Her spell as Red-shirt had been particularly tyrannical. She had sworn to beat the backside of every inmate during her first hundred days of office and had accomplished her target in half the time. As Matron, Katie had conspired to continue from where she had left off as Red-shirt. She persuaded Ms Lawton to extend the rules and protocols of the Politics of Clobber and worked covertly with Patty Hodge to promote a resurgence of the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers within the Elite. As her heinous power and influence grew she convinced the Grand Dame to allow her to implement a system of bottom inspection for gals about to get six from the Beak. Theoretically it was to ensure that a gal’s backside was in a suitable state to accommodate six strokes of the senior cane from the Grand Dame. However, Katie chose to use bottom inspection as a time to add further hurt and humiliation to the luckless victim.
The unfortunate recipient of the impending caning was forced to go into the ante-room adjoining Katie’s office, lower her bumbags, flip up her skirt and spread-eagle herself chest down across a large wooden desk. In her own sweet time Katie would come in and carry out her inspection, which would generally involve pinching, prodding and poking before she decreed the gal to be in a perfect state for six of the best.
After a few minutes Cassie Cassy reappeared on the landing and without provocation turned to face the wall, placing her hands on her head and pressing her nose against the wood paneling.
“Well, what are you waiting for Morton?” Katie called expectantly.
“I’m waiting for the Beak,” growled Deborah.
“Get your arse in here for inspection,” said Katie impatiently.
“I don’t need to be inspected,” said Deborah defiantly, “I ain’t here for a licking.”
By the time they had reached the landing Deborah had convinced herself that when the Grand Dame arrived she would have calmed down and would accept Deb’s explanation regarding her delinquent neckwear. She was also certain that the Grand Dame would acknowledge that her departure from protocol was punishment enough and would let the matter drop.
Katie stepped out onto the landing. She peered at Deborah. “What do you mean you’re not here for a licking?” she demanded. “You were booted out of assembly weren’t you?”
Deborah glared at Katie. “It was just a spur of the moment thing; the Beak got shirty and wasn’t thinking straight. It’ll all be sorted when she gets here.”
“Are you refusing to be inspected?” gasped Katie incredulously.
“I’m telling you I’m not here to be licked,” said Deborah emphatically, “so there ain’t any inspection to refuse.”
“I’m going to give you one last chance Morton,” hissed Katie, “now get in my office and bend over the desk.”
“I ain’t being inspected,” retorted Debs categorically. “You gonna try and make me.”
Katie looked uncertain; in the past three years she had been required to inspect hundreds of gals, including Deborah on sundry occasions, and she had never once been refused. Katie didn’t share Deborah’s opinion that she wasn’t about to be whopped but Debs was extremely physically fit and although she was shorter than Katie, the Matron didn’t fancy her chances at physically forcing the athlete to bend over the desk. Katie Beck decided the better part of valor was to await the arrival of Ms Lawton.
“You’d better do nose and toes,” said Katie.
“Fuck nose and toes,” muttered Deborah.
“What did you say?” snapped Katie.
“Nothing,” grunted Debs.
Cassie Cassy giggled.
“And you can keep quiet Cassidy,” the Matron snapped at Cassie, “else you’ll be over my knee before you know it.”
Katie Beck shot a hostile glance at Debs, and then she retreated back into her office.
Deborah leaned back against the wall, crooking her knee and stuffing her hands in the pockets of her red and black striped blazer.
Chapter 9
Defiant Debs
It was a full twenty minutes before the two gals heard the sound of the Grand Dame’s high heels click clacking as she approached along the corridor below.
As Deborah had predicted Ms Lawton’s mood had mellowed somewhat since her spontaneous outburst in the hall. The Grand Dame had been astonished to see Debs slouching in her seat at the back of the hall with the collar of her blouse open and her tie hanging loose. Under normal circumstances she would have been irritated and would have made a mental note to tell the new Red-shirt, Penelope Ann Evans, to discretely send the Debs up for a bare bender once assembly was finished. However, Deborah’s apparent display of brazen defiance of the previous morning’s warning sent the Grand Dame into a fit of apoplexy.
Nonetheless, she was fond of Deborah and recognized that she had probably been a little harsh in humiliating her by publicly chucking her out of the hall. Clearly, according to protocol, Deborah deserved to be caned but Ms Lawton knew she could have handled the matter with a little more delicacy. As she turned into the stairwell she was beginning to vie towards a compromise.
Ms Lawton’s feeling of détente was instantly reversed when she stepped onto the landing. Her mouth opened disbelievingly as she stared at Deborah. Debs was leaning back against the wall with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her blazer and a recalcitrant pout on her face.
“Why aren’t you facing the wall Morton?” the Grand Dame spluttered incredulously.
Deborah glared at the Grand Dame darkly. Slowly she took her hands from the pockets of her blazer and let them fall to her sides. She moved away from the wall and pulled her shoulders back.
“I’m sorry Ma’am, I didn’t think it was necessary,” she mumbled, but there was no sign of apology on her sullen face.
“Not necessary? What the devil are you talking about, not necessary?” Ms Lawton asked sharply. She scowled at Deborah. “And wipe that ugly pout off your face this instant.”
Deborah seethed inwardly. It was obvious that the Grand Dame was still very cross but she didn’t see any need for her to be so abrupt.
She glared back at the Grand Dame. “You just said you wanted to discuss the matter. Besides, it was just an oversight Ma’am. I stayed to do an extra lap after tennis practice and I had to get dressed in a hurry. I’m sorry, it was just a silly mistake,” she said in an overtly recalcitrant tone of voice.
The Grand Dame continued to glower at Deborah Morton. Debs bravado began to wilt a little.
“May I go now?” she asked hopefully.
“You most certainly cannot go, Morton!” the Grand Dame snapped.
At that moment Katie Beck chose to poke her head out of her office.
“Excuse me Grand Dame,” she said smugly. “May I have a word? It’s about Morton Ma’am, she refused to be inspected.”
Deborah glared daggers at Katie. “I did not,” she said defiantly, “I’ve explained that I didn’t think it was necessary.”
Ms Lawton swung open the door to her office. “I think we’d better go inside Morton, and you can come too Cassidy.”
Reluctantly Deborah Morton turned and faced the wall in the Grand Dame’s office; she placed her hands on her head and pressed her nose to the wood paneling.
Behind her Cassie Cassy was being scolded. Deborah listened morosely to the Grand Dame’s barbed remarks, knowing that Cassie Cassy would be standing in the center of the room having to listen unflinchingly while the Grand Dame worked her over a little before she caned her.
Cassie Cassy removed her blazer and hung it over the back of the straight-backed chair that stood before the fireplace. She bent forward at the waist and reached down until she was gripping the crossbar below the cushioned seat. She felt the pleated skirt of her gymslip being folded back and pushed her hips away from the chair to allow Ms Lawton to roll her navy blue gossamer bumbags down to the tops of her thighs.
Deborah listened as the cane cut through the air, making crisp, emphatic thwacks as it landed across Cassie’s unprotected derriere. She continued to seethe inwardly and became increasingly determined to straighten this matter out once and for all.
Ms Lawton’s ire at Deborah’s show of belligerence had not boded well for Cassie Cassy. The Grand Dame had delivered an extremely tight licking. The first five strokes had produced hot, sweaty tramlines neatly spaced across the crown of the upturned rump and then Ms Lawton had delivered her final stroke diagonally across the stripes. It was a signature Lawton licking, a perfect five-bar gate.
Chapter 10
A Spanking for Debs Morton
Deborah Morton stood before the Grand Dame, her body resting into an insolent slouch. Ms Lawton’s face was a picture of exasperation. She took Deborah by the shoulders and shook her.
“Stop slouching,” she snapped, “and stand up straight.”
Deborah shrugged herself free of the Grand Dame and slowly stood to attention.
“What the devil has got into you Morton?” the Grand Dame asked coldly. “I have never seen such petulant behavior. Do you think I issue orders for them to be simply ignored?”
“No, Ma’am, of course not.”
“Yet you chose to flagrantly ignore my instructions?”
“It was just a silly mistake. I told you that I’d just come from tennis practice and I changed in a hurry. I really don’t understand what all the fuss is about,” Deborah said hotly.
“Yes it was silly Morton. Very silly indeed,” the Grand Dame responded slowly, “but your attitude is even sillier. You will receive six strokes of the cane for zero-tolerance clobber abuse and a further six strokes for gross belligerence.”
“A double bender for having my tie undone?” Deborah interjected contemptuously. “Don’t be bloody ridiculous. I’m a senior…!” Deborah couldn’t help herself. It was unthinkable. Debs’ mind was racing. She wasn’t having this.
“If you interrupt me again young lady I’ll…”
“You’ll what? Spank me?” Deborah snapped back petulantly.
The next thing Deborah Morton knew she was being spun around and pinned down, chest forward, across the top of the desk.
The Grand Dame thumped her hand down on the seat of Deborah’s skirt. Debs struggled and squirmed and tried to get free.
“Lemme go!” she squealed. She kicked back with her left leg and caught Ms Lawton painfully below the knee. The Grand Dame grunted with displeasure.
“Right that does it,” she growled. She yanked Debs up from the desktop, grabbed her by the wrist and marched her across the room. It all happened so fast that Debs had no time to resist. In a matter of seconds Ms Lawton had sunk down onto a sofa and Debs found herself tumbling helplessly downwards.
The Grand Dame put her hand firmly on the back of Deborah’s neck pushing her head down; she flipped back Debs skirt and yanked down her bumbags.
“Heyyyyyyy!!!” wailed Deborah. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Ms Lawton ignored the expletive and responded with a salvo of spanks. Deborah tried to wrestle free but Ms Lawton took a tight grip around her waist and pulled her in tightly to the fold of her lap. The Grand Dame delivered the spanks fast and hard in a fashion known to the Woody Wags as the blitz attack. Deborah had no time to even catch her breath before her bumbags were yanked back up and she was being dragged to her feet.
Deborah Morton gaped at the Grand Dame incredulously. “You spanked me,” she spluttered unnecessarily.
“Yes Morton, I spanked you and now I intend to beat you,” Ms Lawton said curtly. “Now go next door and get yourself inspected.”
Deborah Morton shuffled out of the room in a minor state of shock. Despite Ms Lawton’s petite appearance she had hands like house-bricks and Deborah’s bottom was burning furiously. She squirmed across the landing and went into Katie’s office.
“I need to be inspected,” she said rather lamely.
Katie Beck chuckled. “So you’re not here for a licking?” she chortled sarcastically. “Well get yourself in the ante-room and bend over the desk.”
Deborah reached under her skirt and rolled down her bumbags. She hitched up the back of her skirt and tucked it into her red waist sash. Despondently she slithered her upper torso across the wooden desktop.
Katie cackled as she ran her fingers over the glowing orbs.
“Oh my,” she observed, “that stick is really going to smart. She just had a new consignment delivered. I hear that this year’s collection is very whippy.”
Deborah contemplated the wisdom of hacking Katie Beck in the shins, but in her first rational decision of the day she sensibly erred on the side of caution. She rearranged her bumbags and smoothed down her skirt. She shot Katie a hostile glare and stomped out of the room.
As she entered the landing Cassie Cassy came out of the Grand Dames study. “Good luck,” she whispered and wriggled into the stairwell.
Debs took a deep breath and turned the doorknob.
Chapter 11
A Double Bare Bender
Deborah bent over the chair unenthusiastically. She was bitterly disappointed at Ms Lawton’s harsh behavior. A double bare bender was unheard of except for the rare occasions a member of the Elite needed beating. Deborah felt the cane tap down and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
Despite her show of belligerence and bravado once she was doubled over the back of the straight-backed chair Deborah was becomingly increasingly anxious. The prospect of a twelve stroke bare bender, delivered over a well-spanked arse, was not in the least bit appealing.
Ms Lawton took a tight grip on the cane. It was exactly the type of overt willfulness that Deborah had displayed that she was determined to stamp out with her radical revisions to the rules, regulations and protocols.
With a new influx of disciplinary challenged inmates she considered it prudent to demonstrate that she meant business immediately.
Ms Lawton knew that even if Cassie Cassy kept quiet, she could rely on Katie Beck to initiate rumors on the Woody gossvine that not only had Debs received a double bare bender, but even worse she had been unceremoniously dragged over the Grand Dame’s lap and had her bottom smacked.
Ms Lawton was convinced that making such a high-profile example of a member of the notorious Famous Four would send a resounding message to the inmates and prove to be a major coup in her strategy to counter minxdom.
The Grand Dame raised the cane in the air and brought her arm down swiping.
Deborah gritted her teeth as the cane slashed across her naked, swollen flesh. The most she had ever previously received had been nine strokes and she had considered that very tough duty indeed. She squeezed her eyes shut as the heat of each stripe seemed to attack the core of her central nervous system and sent electric shocks from her head to her toes. However, she was determined to maintain position and refrain from giving the Grand Dame any indication of the distress she was going through. Deborah Morton was not about to make a muff of herself.
Deborah Morton was furious. She was lying face down across her best chum Rosemary Booker’s lap having her bottom soothed with a selection of Rosie’s mystical potions.
“How dare she?” Deborah ranted. “She’s fucking barking! The woman’s lost her marbles. She fucking spanked me in front of Cassie!”
“Cassie hasn’t said a word,” Jojo reassured her.
Deborah grunted. “Yeah, well Katie saw my arse up close and personal. It’ll be all over the gossvine by now,” she fumed.
Rosemary massaged a new prototype aloe-vera cream into her best chums smoldering rear end. “Well she was certainly on form,” she said sympathetically, “these stripes are in terribly tight formation.”
Joanna Heyworth and Nicola Jane Nixon were inspecting the cane damage with seasoned eyes.
“A double bare bender and every one landed in the target zone. There’s not a single wraparound,” said Nixdown admiringly. “That was a very professional job.”
“Can’t avoid some over-lapping in a double bender,” agreed Jojo, “but that’s about as safe as it gets.”
“If you’ve quite finished discussing my poor beleaguered bum,” grumbled Deborah, “we’ve got work to do!”
Deborah refused to acknowledge that her belligerence had been ill advised and assured her chums that she was going to get her own back on the Grand Dame.
Deborah’s chums were sympathetic but reminded her that it was far from the first time she had been caned for clobber abuse.
“Oh listen to you, the Queen of collar and tie abuse complaining you got another licking,” drawled Nixdown.
“That ain’t the point,” muttered Debs darkly, “she shouldn’t have chucked me out of the hall like that. It was a direct contravention of the protocols.”
“And you’ve never been chucked out of assembly before?” laughed Nix cynically.
Her chums cautioned Debs that loudly conspiring to get back at Ms Lawton could have unhealthy ramifications for a gal’s bumbags, but Deborah refused to listen.
Even if the Grand Dame was within her rights to cane her, Deborah argued, she had no business screaming at her and chucking her out of the hall like that, and even less business spanking her in front of Cassie Cassy as if she was some recalcitrant grubby. Protocols were established and Ms Lawton had clearly breached them. Debs was determined to get even.
She pouted and sulked when her three chums politely declined her invitation to participate in Debs’ revenge. (To be Continued)
I hope you enjoyed the extract, if you want to learn more about the mega-minxes from the Woody Back to School Unit then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Storefront and BUY THE BOOKS! … downloading for just $4.99 per full length book is the cheapest and most expedient way to get access to hundreds of pages of Woody fun … You won’t be disappointed … Bottoms Up! Thanks for stopping by … RH
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Free Spanking Book Week Day 2 – Whops and Clobber – Chapters 4 thru 7
As promised here are chapters 4 thru 7 of Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber that The Woody Back to School Unit is making available absolutely free of charge to my visitors.
For those of you who missed the first installment I have posted them in a special box in the sidebar for easy access … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH
Chapter 4
Thrashed Into the Elite
If Mr Humphries was aware that he had the rapt attention of everybody in the room he didn’t show it. He was calm and composed as he stepped forward and neatly folded back Victoria’s skirt. She raised her hips cooperatively to allow him to slip her navy blue bumbags down behind her knees and then settled back over the horse, prostrate and acquiescent. The Grand Master raised the cane.
The Grand Master took the stack of items from Katie Beck and handed them to Lady Victoria.
“Well taken, Victoria,” he said approvingly, “you may go and change now.”
Lady Vix took the pile of clothing, badges and a wood backed hairbrush from Mr Humphries.
“Thank you, sir,” she said in an even voice.
The Grand Master was genuinely impressed. He was confident that he had applied the cane with more than enough zip to heat up her rear end considerably. Once or twice she had ridden up on tiptoes, her bottom squirming, but she had immediately returned into position and not a murmur had passed her lips. When it was over and she approached him her face was a little wan but she was dry-eyed and had met his gaze evenly.
He watched her walking back down the gymnasium towards the changing rooms; apart from a certain stiffness to her gait it was impossible to tell that she had just received twelve strokes of the cane across her bare bottom.
Mr Humphries turned to Katie.
“Cox,” she said. “Rachel Cox.”
Prefect by prefect the Grand Master worked his way down the line, giving them each the ‘final kiss’, then handing them their blazers, badges and ties of office, and the short whippy ashplants with which they would impose their authority. Rachel, the Deputy Red-shirt, was followed by the most senior prefects. Claire Brooks would be the Dorm Raider, responsible for ensuring that the facility settled down at night. Amanda San Pierre had been selected as the Senior Brat Draper. The two Sally’s, Poffley and Cobb, were to act as Captains of the Blue and Red Houses respectively. The six remaining prefects would act in a variety of lesser, but nonetheless important, supporting roles.
The gals took their thrashings with varying degrees of stoicism. Rachel, Claire and Mandy were the bravest, taking their licks without flinching. Before coming down to the gymnasium he had looked over the prefects’ records on the Bottoms Up Table of Troublemakers database, known amongst the inmates as the Big BUTT. Of the twelve new members of the Elite only Lady Victoria and Claire had ever received twelve strokes before. Rachel and Amanda had both received nine on several occasions each. The rest of the prefects had maxed out at six so it was not surprising that towards the ends of the thrashings they were beginning to moan and groan and wriggle in agitation. Nonetheless only one of the new Elite made a complete muff of herself.
Helen James was sobbing before she bent over the horse and she howled from the off. She did her best to get up from the horse every time the cane landed but fortunately she was bent too far over to be successful. Mr Humphries waited patiently between strokes while her expansive behind stopped wiggling and jiggling like a jelly that hadn’t quite set. Her howls filled the gymnasium and he suspected that they could probably be heard all over the facility. She was openly blubbing when he finally helped her to her feet.
One by one the gals returned from the changing rooms looking spick and span in their new outfits. Lady Victoria Brompton had changed her blouse and was now wearing the red shirt with black braid that signified her official position as the most senior inmate at the facility. Her black tie had the unit’s emblem embroidered into it and she wore a metallic badge on the lapel of her blazer with ‘Head Gal’ on it. The other gals had swapped their striped ties for solid red and they wore block red blazers to segregate them from the rest of the inmates. Under their arms the prefects had tucked the whippy ashplants that they would carry everywhere they went for the remainder of the year.
One by one the prefects stepped forward and recited the Elite pledge. Predictably Helen James’s performance was rather lack luster and somewhat marred by the tears still streaming down her face and her strangled sobs a she muttered the words. Mr Humphries shook hands with each prefect and wished them luck. Looking somewhat rueful the prefects wriggled out of the gymnasium, charged with maintaining order at the rambunctious Back to School unit.
Chapter 5
A Fine Repast
At six o’clock the inmates received word that they were to repair to the Great Hall to meet with the Grand Master.
Upon their arrival they were startled to find that the hall had been decorated with tables covered in white linen table-clothes, table settings of bone china and expensive silverware and crystal wine glasses.
Earlier in the day Mr Humphries had summonsed Dotty Hammell, the Dame in charge of Domestic Science, and Cassandra Cassidy, to his office.
Prior to being found guilty of Extreme Ladetting Cassandra had owned an exclusive restaurant called Cassie Cassy’s.
Mr Humphries had studied the menu of the usual fare on offer to the inmates and had been deeply unimpressed. He saw no reason why the residents of the facility should be subjected to a diet of porridge and gruel shipped in by outside contractors. He drew up a shopping list and instructed Dotty and Cassie to go into town.
To the further surprise of the inmates the Brass had been excluded from the guest list for dinner. Mr Humphries seemed sublimely indifferent to being the sole male amongst a gathering of eighty-four females.
“Tonight is a new beginning,” he told them. “I have appointed Cassandra Cassidy as the new head chef of the facility and have given her a generous budget to ensure that the quality of food available is considerably improved. Over the next few weeks we will be outfitting new kitchens and will become self-sufficient. I will establish a rotational kitchen roster and everybody in this room will participate in the preparation of the meals that we share.”
The inmates were astonished. A superb tomato and corn soup with fresh basil was followed by crab cakes with avocado garnish. To finish they were served a raspberry trifle with nectarine sauce. To their even greater amazement on each of the tables the Grand Master had provided several bottles of a 2000 Gary Farrell Rochioli-Allen Pinot Noir from the Russian River Valley vineyard that delightfully offered a combination of tart-cherry, lavender, minerals and spices.
In Ms Lawton’s day alcohol had been strictly prohibited. Anybody found with booze was publicly flogged in front of the other inmates. An inmate named Bernadette Summers ran an underground operation supplying illicit hooch and other prohibited supplies. She was occasionally caught and flogged but she didn’t care, profits were good.
“They can’t hurt me,” she liked to brag. “I’m the fucking Bounder.”
Mr Humphries sat at a table with the members of the red-bottomed Elite. Between courses he circulated the hall introducing himself to each of the inmates and advising them of the timing he had established for their personal performance reviews.
By the time dinner was over the inmates of the Woody Back to School unit were totally bewildered. They had chowed down on their grub appreciatively and had emptied the bottles of wine with relish. Nonetheless, despite their enjoyment of the delightful gastronomic treat they were still vaguely suspicious that this might be some kind of elaborate hoax. After all twelve months earlier their first days back at the facility had a far less appetizing flavor with the implementation of Operation Scorched Arse.
Over the years Ms Lawton had become increasingly concerned with the seemingly unstoppable rise in mega-minxdom. She constantly wrestled with balancing judicious discipline with counter-acting the increasingly powerful cult following of Cathryn Cassidy. Every year the Extreme Ladettes banished to the ‘Big House’, as the Woody Back to School unit was known, were more rebellious and disciplinary challenged.
With public outcry over Ladette behavior at its peak the Dark Agents of the System were intent on making examples of the so-called Celebrity Ladettes, a group of wealthy and famous playgirls with a reputation for extreme partying. The Celebrity Ladettes were proving amongst the most disciplinary challenged of her charges.
Determined to take a hard-line Ms Lawton had spent the summer months redrafting the rules, regulations and protocols in what became known as the Radical Revisions.
Operation Scorched Arse would start innocuously enough with a minor demeanor by one of the unit’s highest-profile and disciplinary challenged Ladettes.
Deborah Morton had been arrested on the center court of Wimbledon having just lost a grueling and exhausting semi-final battle. She was putting her racquets away when the Dark Agents of the System came on court and arrested her. With her hands manacled behind her back she was led from the court in front of millions of TV viewers.
She was charged with Extreme Ladetting and sentenced to seven years at the Big House without the possibility of parole. Deborah Morton quickly became an influential participant in the growing cult of mega-minxdom.
Chapter 6
Deborah in Disgrace
During each morning assembly the Grand Dame had taken to delivering dire warnings against anybody violating the rules, regulations and protocols.
On Wednesday morning she selected the rules regarding clobber as the subject matter of her address.
The rules, known as ‘The Politics of Clobber’, amongst the inmates, filled six full pages of the Woody ledger of regulations and referred to another thirty-six detailed protocols. The Grand Dame strongly advised the inmates to reacquaint themselves with the rules and darkly informed them that she had instructed the Brass and the Elite to impose a zero-tolerance policy regarding clobber abuse.
The following morning the inmates were given an ominous insight into Ms Lawton’s zero-tolerance imposition of the protocols. The assembled gals had just taken their seats and were waiting for Ms Lawton to launch into her daily diatribe, when to their surprise she stepped towards the front of the stage with a withering look on her face, gazing over the top of her glasses and pointing her finger towards the back of the hall.
“Morton, stand up this instant!” the Grand Dame had roared from the stage.
With a look of total surprise on her face Deborah slowly rose to her feet.
“Your tie is undone, young lady!” The Grand Dame accused in a blistering tone, her finger jabbing the air in the direction of the nonplussed inmate.
Debs hand had involuntarily gone to her neck and she had felt herself redden as every gal in the hall had turned and looked towards the back of the room.
“It was only yesterday that I warned this assembly that I would take not tolerate any further instances of clobber abuse,” the Grand Dame fumed. “Nevertheless you have flagrantly chosen to ignore my warning and turn up for assembly in this most disgraceful and unkempt manner.” She reached into her jacket pocket and produced a red card. “I think you had better go and wait outside my study so we can discuss this matter further.”
Deborah looked taken aback and hesitated momentarily. Once again the Grand Dame raised her voice angrily. “Leave the hall this instant young lady,” she barked from the stage. “Unless you would prefer for me to have you removed?”
Crimson faced, Deborah was forced to struggle passed her seated chums, before making her way through the hall with every eye fixed upon her. Her fellow inmates were gaping in bewilderment.
Upon her return to the facility Deborah had entered Phase Five of her sentence and was now considered to be a senior inmate. Traditionally seniors had always been afforded a number of courtesies that they had not enjoyed during the earlier phases of their incarceration. One of the more popular concessions was that in the event the more senior inmates required disciplining they should be treated discretely. The protocols recommended that the offender be taken to one side and be informed privately that they were required to visit the Grand Dame for punishment. The public berating of a Phase Five inmate was a clear departure from protocol and to chuck Deborah out of the assembly hall was unprecedented.
Deborah hurried red-faced down the center aisle, averting her eyes from the inmates. Although she was acutely aware that having her top button unfastened and her tie loosened contravened a zero-tolerance abuse of clobber protocol and attracted a mandatory caning, she was bewildered as to why the Grand Dame would have chosen to embarrass her in such a public manner. Despite her high ranking on the Hall of Shame, Deborah Morton was considered to be the unit’s golden gal. She was the facility’s top student, regularly played clarinet as a guest with local orchestras and despite her suspension from professional tennis she still won many prestigious amateur tournaments. Her achievements had brought significant kudos to the reputation and public perception of the success of the Woody Back to School experiment. She strode passed the stage with her head slightly bowed, not wanting to look up at the Grand Dame.
Glowering, Deborah pushed the doors of the assembly hall open and stomped into the corridor. She cut along sharpish knowing that the Grand Dame wouldn’t continue with assembly until the sound of her footsteps could no longer be heard inside the hall.
Chapter 7
Deborah in Denial
The hall was silent bar the sound of Deborah’s retreating footsteps. Ms Lawton pushed her glasses back up her nose and rearranged her papers while she waited to commence assembly. She cleared her throat and looked up over the assembled inmates. To her surprise she saw Yvonne Godfrey standing up, waving a red card in her right hand.
“What is it Godfrey?” she asked impatiently.
“It’s Cassidy Ma’am,” Godders said gleefully and touched her left index finger to the knot of her own tie.
During assembly it was Yvonne’s task to stand at the end of the row that the Phase Two inmates frequented and monitor them for gabbing, goofing, larking or pranking.
The Grand Dame scanned the row of inmates until she spotted Cassandra Cassidy seated halfway along. Janet was quite correct; Cassie Cassy’s tie was equally delinquent as Deborah’s.
“Alright Cassidy,” the Grand Dame said tightly, “Get out. Go and get yourself inspected.”
Deborah had nearly reached the end of the corridor when she heard the hall doors swing open and shut again. She turned around and saw Cassandra Cassidy come out of the hall, her tie loosened and a hint of a grin on her face.
Debs waited for Cassie to approach.
“You too?” she asked.
Cassie Cassy nodded. “She’s pretty shirty so I guess we’re in for some good, tight whops.”
“Hmmph!” grunted Deborah sullenly.
As they made their way through the labyrinth of corridors that led to the Grand Dames study Cassie tried to make idle conversation but Deborah was unresponsive. She was fond of Cassie Cassy but she was lost in her own disgruntled train of thought.
Debs had been genuinely surprised when the Grand Dame had pointed out her delinquent neckwear. Despite Ms Lawton’s accusations it had been a genuine oversight. Each morning Deborah rose an hour early for tennis practice with her coach, Ms Lummell. After they had finished practicing serves, lobs and slices Deborah generally completed her training by running several laps around the compound. That morning she had been feeling quite active and had added an extra lap. The additional time had meant that she had had to rush into the shower and then finish dressing as she dashed through the quadrangle to the assembly hall. She had merely forgotten to finish by fastening her collar and tightening her tie.
The more Debs thought about it the more unreasonable her ignominious dismissal from the hall appeared. Although six of the best first thing in the morning was never pleasant, it wasn’t the prospect of being caned that incensed Deborah. She ruefully acknowledged that the oversight was foolish, particularly in light of the previous morning’s diatribe. If she had been privately taken to one side and sent up she would have accepted her punishment without complaint. Deborah had an unfortunate history of failing to button up properly and held the record for being caned for the same clobber transgression of collar and tie abuse. However, the Grand Dame’s decision to publicly disgrace her made her blood boil.
“I’m not going to be whopped for this,” Deborah finally muttered as they entered the corridor that lead to the stairwell up to the Grand Dames office.
“Yeah, rock on, Debs,” laughed Cassie. “Zero-tolerance collar and tie abuse and you’re not going to be whopped?”
Debs shook her head firmly. “This is completely out with the protocols. She had no right to red card me.”
Cassie cast Deborah a sideways glance. She didn’t like to argue with a more experienced inmate but as far as she knew Ms Lawton was not in the habit of cutting inmates slack on minor technicalities. Cassie knew from experience that collar and tie abuse was one of Ms Lawton’s pet peeves and when she said zero-tolerance she meant it. It occurred to Cassie Cassy that Debs might be laboring in an unhealthy state of denial. Nonetheless, she nodded at Deborah and assured her everything would straighten itself out.
When the two gals arrived at the landing outside the Grand Dame’s study the door to Katie Beck’s office was wide open. Cassandra Cassidy crossed the landing and went in.
“I need to be inspected,” she muttered. (To be Continued)
I hope you enjoyed the extract, if you want to learn more about the mega-minxes from the Woody Back to School Unit then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Storefront and BUY THE BOOKS! … downloading for just $4.99 per full length book is the cheapest and most expedient way to get access to hundreds of pages of Woody fun … You won’t be disappointed … Bottoms Up! Thanks for stopping by … RH
Don’t Forget – Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page.
Woodys Announces Free Book Week – Prologue and Chapters 1-3
In a spirit of spanking-community sharing the Woody Back to School Unit has decided to give away the complete Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber free of charge to my visitors.
As the book is over a hundred pages in length I intend to publish it in sections of four chapters each day for the next seven days (converting to HTML to match my page is tedious and time-consuming!).
Before I start, two boring things
(1) This book is the copyright of Woodettes Publications and has been registered with the Library of Congress,
and,
(2) R Humphries has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work with all rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Also I am obliged to publish the following disclaimer:
Authors Note
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The stories based at the Woody Back to School Unit are works of adult fiction based upon the real-life fantasy games played by the author, R. Humphries and his wife, the inimitable Jojo.
It is the author’s intent to create the Woody Back to School Unit as an imaginative world peopled with a believable cast and set in familiar surroundings within which the readers will become comfortable.
The vernacular used in the stories is a combination of the phraseology derived from writing such as the British penny comics from the nineteen thirties, current language, slang and idioms, and the invented parlance known as Woody Jargon.
As such references to ‘beating’, ‘thrashing’, and ‘flogging’ have no context to the use or avocation of physical violence, with the exception of controlled corporal punishment, against the characters of the stories.
And finally last but not least this book is dedicated to My Beloved Jojo. So now without further ado kick back, pour a glass of wine and enjoy Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber … Bottoms Up! … RH
Prologue
Six of the Best
Mr Humphries flexed the long, thin rattan cane between his hands. Across the other side of the room a straight-backed chair was placed in front of an over-sized fireplace. Beside the chair Joanna Heyworth was preparing herself to be caned.
Jojo, as she was known to her chums, leaned over the chair, placing her palms on the cushioned seat.
Mr Humphries placed the cane on a nearby desk and shrugged off his suit jacket. He rolled back the cuffs of his white shirt and then loosened his tie.
He crossed the room to where Jojo was stooped over the chair and reached down and took the hem of her skirt between his fingers. He meticulously turned the skirt up her back. Joanna pushed her hips away from the chair to allow him to roll her bumbags down to behind her knees.
Once her garments had been appropriately rearranged she leaned further forward, reaching down and grasping the cross-bar of the chair. Her head hung down between her arms and her red hair cascaded on the seat.
At twenty-six years old, and now six years into her sentence at the Woody Back to School Unit, it was a position with which Jojo had become intimately familiar.
Mr Humphries positioned himself, feet slightly apart, and tapped the cane down to get his precise measure. Jojo’s buttocks twitched slightly at the feel of the cane against her naked flesh and she braced herself.
Mr Humphries sliced the cane through the air. As a consummate professional he didn’t require a particularly long backswing, knowing that the real power came from a last minute flick of the wrist that would accelerate the shaft of the cane to an alarming speed.
The cane left a long, slender mark across the crown of Joanna’s behind. Her body jerked a little but she stayed steadfastly in position.
Mr Humphries knew that the most effective technique was to space the strokes out, leaving a thirty second gap before delivering the next one. This allowed the full effects of the cane to be experienced by Miss Heyworth.
Jojo was experiencing the full effects of the lick of the cane. First the shocking flesh burn upon impact, which was quickly followed by the sting of the cane ricocheting around her central nervous system like a pinball and electrifying her nerve endings. Finally as she hung panting over the chair desperately trying to catch her breath the deep under burn would set in.
Mr Humphries smiled appreciatively as Jojo stuck her buttocks up. A really good caning is a partnership. It was Mr Humphries’ job to make sure that he landed the strokes in the sweet spot of the upturned behind, avoiding wraparounds or high or low riders. It was Jojo’s task to present the target as high and steady as possible.
Jojo winced as the cane sliced down again. She was desperately trying to get into the zone. “It’s only whops, it’s only whops,” she repeated over and over in her head.
Mr Humphries was caning with expert precision. Every stroke was landing in the target area. Angry red stripes sat up like tramlines from the pale flesh of Jojo’s naked derriere; she was beginning to twitch and squirm between strokes as the heat intensified.
The first five strokes were separated by millimeters, perfect lines running from left to right across the flesh.
Mr Humphries shifted his position slightly and raised the cane about twelve inches above Joanna’s behind.
Jojo gritted her teeth, knowing what to expect. The cane sliced downwards cutting diagonally across the existing stripes, creating a perfect five bar gate. The pain was excruciating and she shook her head from side to side in consternation.
She hung upside down across the chair for a full minute while she collected herself. Finally she pushed herself up, reaching back and lowering her skirt, then reaching down and retrieving her bumbags. She turned around and faced Mr Humphries. Her face was pale but her eyes were dry.
“That,” she told Mr Humphries emphatically, “is what I call six of the best!”
Chapter 1
The New Grand Master
The inmates of the Woody Back to School unit were assembled in the Great Hall awaiting the arrival of Grand Dame Lawton. It was the first morning of their return from summer furlough and they were scheduled to spend the next thirteen weeks completing the next phase of their Extreme Social Rehabilitation programs.
The Brass arrived first; the fourteen Dames who acted as their tutors, instructors and wardens while they were resident at the facility. Once the Brass was seated on the stage Ms Lawton swept into the hall. As usual she was smartly dressed in a black suit, and a white on white long-collared blouse, worn open at the neck. Her make-up was immaculate and her hair perfectly coiffed. She was followed by a gentleman who was unfamiliar to the inmates.
He also wore a dark suit, crisp white shirt and a patterned tie. He followed Ms Lawton up onto the stage.
The Grand Dame remained standing, behind a large desk. She greeted the inmates courteously and welcomed the twelve newcomers who were starting their sentences of seven years at the facility, without the possibility of parole.
Ms Lawton removed her glasses and placed them on the desk. The experienced inmates exchanged knowing glances; this was generally a sign that the Grand Dame was about to embark upon a lengthy diatribe regarding the rules, regulations and protocols that dictated their lives while they were secured in the compound.
“I have an important announcement,” she started, “as you are well aware, last year we imposed a zero-tolerance program known to all of you as Operation Scorched Arse. Upon reflection I now believe that the program was not as successful as I had hoped. I take full responsibility for the operation and as a result I have decided to give you the opportunity for a fresh start.”
The inmates exchanged curious glances.
“I have decided to stand down from my position as Grand Dame,” she said slowly.
There was a chorus of shocked gasps from all around the hall.
“It is my great pleasure to introduce Mr Humphries,” she continued, “who will take over in the role of Grand Master with immediate effect.”
The Brass and inmates gaped as Mr Humphries rose to his feet. He walked around the desk and casually hopped up and sat on it, his legs swinging and dangling.
“Good morning, ladies. My name is Humphries. Mister Humphries.” He grinned. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
“I know that this will have come as a surprise to all of you and that it will take a little getting used to. Nonetheless, I am confident that once we have had the opportunity to meet both collectively and individually the transition will go smoothly.”
“It is my intention to continue the Grand Dame’s remarkable record of successfully socially rehabilitating you to the standards established by the Ministry of Extreme Social Rehabilitation,” he told the startled audience. “I intend to make a number of revisions to the protocols that I believe will eliminate some of the harsher practices introduced last year while still ensuring that the administration of the facility remains consonant with security and good order.”
He went on to welcome the new inmates to the facility and he assured the gals returning to continue their sentences that he intended to raise the bar in their achievement in academia, in sports and the arts and in technology. He spoke in a quiet, self-assured manner. He talked briefly about the benefits of team spirit and promised them that he would meet with them individually in the near future. He informed them that during the summer months he had established a new intranet system, known as GalGab, and that the revisions to the protocols would be posted during the next few days.
Then, quite casually the Grand Master slid off the table and wandered across the stage, disappearing behind a curtain, and then sauntering back, a slender thirty-six inch cane in his hand.
With a friendly smile on his face he returned to his seated position on the desk, and swished the cane through the air.
“Unpleasant little critter ain’t it?” he said calmly. Then he laughed. With that he placed the cane on the table and smiled at the startled inmates. “I’ll leave Ms Lawton to give her final address,” he said casually and with his hands thrust in his trouser pockets he walked nonchalantly from the stage.
Chapter 2
Goodbye, Ms Lawton
The Famous Four lounged about in Jojo and Nicola Jane Nixon’s study.
“Seems ok,” said Deborah Morton.
“Seems nice,” agreed Jojo.
“Cool suit,” grinned Nicola Jane.
“Bit of all right,” chuckled Rosemary Booker.
After Ms Lawton had finished her farewell address she announced that Mr Humphries had decided that the start of the formal curriculum would be postponed until the following morning to allow the inmates time to get used to the idea of the new chain of command.
The study shared by Jojo and Nix acted as the social center for the gathering of the influential cult of inmates known as the mega-minxes. The cult had originally been founded by the notorious party-gal and Extreme Ladette, Cathryn Cassidy, who had authored ‘The Manifesto of Mega-minxdom’. Over the years covert membership had boomed. Throughout the morning Jojo and Nixdown’s chums congregated in their study to discuss and debate the remarkable turn of events.
“I wonder how Patty’s going to take to having a new boss?” mused Jojo.
Patricia Hodge was the Deputy Grand Dame at the facility. Patty was apoplectic. The news of Ms Lawton’s resignation had comes as a bolt from the blue.
“This is preposterous,” she raged to Katie Beck and Dame Wharton. Katie acted as Matron to the facility and Ms Wharton was the Geo-Dame. Together with Patty they formed a group known as the Radical Right which was notorious for their stringent interpretation of the rules, regulations and protocols and their propensity for dispensing corporal punishment.
“I am next in line,” Patty complained. “That bitch never even consulted me. I have a good mind to complain to the Ministry.”
“That might be a little hasty,” counseled her cohorts. “We don’t know what the Grand Dame has told the minister about Operation Scorched Arse and you might not want him poking around in your business.”
“Grrrrrrrrr!” growled Patty Hodge.
“How is Patty taking it?” asked the Grand Master.
“She’s absolutely furious,” said Susan Lawton.
“Just as you predicted,” grinned Mr Humphries.
“She was terribly charming and wished me luck,” laughed Ms Lawton, “but I’ve known her a long time and I know she can’t be trusted. Unfortunately she’s a necessary evil so you’ll need to be careful.”
“I’m used to necessary evils,” sighed Mr Humphries, “I’ll be watching her carefully.”
“Yes, but, remember one thing about Patty,” warned Susan Lawton. “She’ll be watching you, watching her.”
The Grand Master just smiled.
Susan Lawton placed the last of her suitcases in the trunk of her car. She turned back and took a last look at the familiar surroundings of the Woody Back to School compound. The huge rambling facility was set in sixty acres of downshire grounds. The main building was spectacular and imposing, four wings built around a columned quadrangle. There was a separate building known as the Great Hall, sumptuous stables, outdoor recreation areas and several tennis courts.
It was a walled community, some distance from town and safe from prying eyes.
It was ten years since Susan Lawton, a major in Military Intelligence with responsibility for ‘special discipline’, had been approached by the System, a dark and covert government agency, to establish the experimental unit to house the nations most Extreme Ladettes. The inmates were generally between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five and had been found guilty of contravening the government’s civil disobedience laws known as anti-Ladetting. They would serve sentences of seven years without the possibility of parole.
Ms Lawton had made her name in the military while serving on the Court Martial commission. Tired of sentencing recalcitrant servicewomen to fruitless months in the brig she proposed that most of the cases could be satisfactorily resolved by a swift six of the best. She argued that women were born broad of beam and perfectly designed to absorb a good tight dose of the cane.
What became known in military circles as the Lawton Alternative proved a surprisingly popular solution amongst the more rambunctious elements of the services.
When she was approached by the Ministry of Extreme Social Rehabilitation to act as the Grand Dame of the new facility Susan Lawton drafted a proposal entitled ‘Whops and Clobber’.
Ms Lawton proposed that the unit should be run along the lines of her alma mater, the Woody School, which had once had the reputation of being the strictest boarding school in the country. The inmates would participate in a structured daily curriculum of tutorials, artistic and sporting activities. They would wear uniforms known as clobber and the standard form of discipline would be corporal punishment.
Ms Lawton slid into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. She blinked back tears as she guided the car along the long oak-lined driveway towards the imposing gates to the compound.
Chapter 3
The Final Kiss
“Mr Humphries?”
“Yes Katie?”
“The Elite is waiting in the gymnasium sir.”
“Then I suppose we should proceed.”
Mr Humphries looked at his watch. He crossed the large office to a tall-boy and extracted a long, thin cane.
During the weeks that he had spent with Ms Lawton the new Grand Master had familiarized himself with the many traditions of the Back to School unit. Ms Lawton had based the units many rules, regulations, protocols and traditions on its former incarnation as a once respected girl’s fee-paying academy.
The Elite was comprised of the twelve inmates serving the last year of their sentences. As the final phase of their social rehabilitation they were given responsibility for overseeing the facility at all times that the inmates were not otherwise engaged in attending tutorials, lectures or other formal curriculum activities.
Members of the Elite were granted thrashing rights over the other inmates and carried short whippy ashplant canes under their arms at all times.
The Ceremonial Thrashing into the Elite fascinated him. Ms Lawton explained that at three o’clock on the first afternoon of each new year the twelve new prefects were assembled in the gymnasium, where prior to receiving their official prefectorial ties, badges and whippy ashplants, they were bent over a vaulting horse and beaten by the Grand Dame.
Ms Lawton told him that the tradition preceded the establishment of the Back to School unit. She informed him that many years earlier she had personally bent over the vaulting horse to be ceremonially thrashed into the Elite and had accepted the beating without question or complaint.
Theoretically it was the last caning an inmate would expect to receive, amongst the Woody Wags the twelfth stroke was known as ‘The Final Kiss’.
However, Ms Lawton pointed out that this was not always the case. She recalled her own schooldays. Despite her reputation as the school’s naughtiest girl she had been surprisingly appointed the prestigious position of Red-shirt, the most senior member of the Elite. During her tenure she had established a record for being the most caned prefect in the school’s history; a record she ironically took over from none other than Patty Hodge.
Prior to the imposition of the austere regime code-named Operation Scorched Arse caning of members of the Elite had been relatively infrequent. However, during Ms Lawton’s final year as Grand Dame the whop-rate amongst the Elite had escalated.
Mr Humphries strode into the gymnasium with Katie Beck in his wake. Along the right hand wall of the gym the Brass were seated on lawn chairs. Standing in a line along the opposite wall were twelve of the inmates. They were dressed in crisp white blouses with red braid around the collars and short pleated skirts. The collars of their blouses were unfastened and they were not wearing ties.
A suede-saddled vaulting horse had been placed in the center of the gymnasium floor. The new Grand Master removed his black suit-jacket and handed it to Katie Beck. Methodically he turned back the sleeves of his white shirt to just below the elbow.
Katie Beck handed the Grand Master the long, thin cane he had brought from his office. He flexed it between his hands and then swished it through the air several times. He nodded at Katie.
Katie looked down at her clipboard.
“Brompton,” she read, “Lady Victoria.”
The Grand Master watched as Lady Victoria Brompton left the line of inmates and strode purposefully towards the vaulting horse. Over the past two days he had spent considerable time with the newly appointed Red-shirt. Victoria had been the only person aside from Mr Humphries, Ms Lawton and members of the Ministry who had known of the Grand Dame’s exit strategy and had been sworn to silence. He had observed her poise and self-assurance. She had not demonstrated any signs of the fiery temper or pugnaciousness that Ms Lawton had forewarned him of.
Without any instruction the aristocrat confidently folded herself over the vaulting horse with her backside sitting up proud. (To be continued)
I hope you enjoyed the extract, if you want to learn more about the mega-minxes from the Woody Back to School Unit then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Storefront and BUY THE BOOKS! … downloading for just $4.99 per full length book is the cheapest and most expedient way to get access to hundreds of pages of Woody fun … You won’t be disappointed … Bottoms Up! Thanks for stopping by … RH
Don’t Forget – Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page.
Another Public Spanking and a Tribute to the Late, Great, George Jackson Churchward
Clearly the concept of being spanked in front of the neighbors struck a chord as that particular posting attracted a remarkable amount of visitors. I would suggest some experimentation in this area to My Beloved Jojo but unfortunately our neighbors are either contenders for the World’s rudest people awards or refugees from the home for the bewildered; so prudently I shall leave the subject well alone.
I also noticed that many visitors took the time to click on the link to the superlative work of the artist David Ell so I thought I’d take the opportunity to mention another great artist worth checking out, George Jackson Churchward.
The now sadly deceased GJC may well have been the godfather of spanking illustrators. Extensive collections of his work are available at the permanent In Memory of GJC site and at the Encyclopedia of Spanking Art site maintained by the Japanese artist K Taira who often added coloration to the works of George J Churchward. (Just a word of warning these sites were developed some years ago and can be a tad frustratingly slow to load … nonetheless well worth a rummage).
I rather like the picture above that I selected from GJC’s collection as the woman in the background rather conjures up the mean spirits of the crueler elements of the Woody Back to School Unit community. Even if they are not actually delivering the punishments themselves they are more than happy to watch and gloat. My Beloved Jojo is quick to point out that this picture is not very representative of the Woody Gals as blubbing up a storm like that would be considered very bad form.
At the Woody Back to School Unit the mega-minxes spend an inordinate amount of their lives hanging about waiting to be caned. As a lover of rituals I have always tried to weave the pre-punishment tension into my stories as it fascinates me. I have always liked the picture on the right as I think that with the expression on the unfortunate miscreants face GJC perfectly captures the ‘oh shit’ moment that precedes the moment of truth.
Yesterday we found Debs Morton in the unfortunate position of being spanked in front of the neighbors. Sadly for poor old Debs being publicly spanked in front of relative strangers is not a unique situation. Although it would be hard for even the most articulate advocate to pretend that the final picture I have selected from the GJC collection actually matches the short extract from Volume 22 – The Man From Berlin it was the nearest correlation I could make … so what the hell … Enjoy!
The Woody Back to School unit’s table tennis team played in the first division of a local league. With two former professional tennis players, Debs and Rachel Cox, on their ‘A’ team they were considered formidable opposition.
One evening they were playing a home game against their fiercest rivals and the contest was close. As usual a set of bleachers had been erected in the gymnasium and there was plenty of support for both sides.
Debs had just won a hard fought game putting Woody’s ahead. Rachel was next up and if she won then victory was in sight. Debs sat down beside Rosemary and twice during crucial points she leaned over and whispered in her chum’s ear. Debs of all people should have known better, as a professional sportswoman she knew the protocols of silence during play.
Jane Lummell who was umpiring reminded the spectators to be quiet during points and fixed the evil eye on Deborah. When, during the next point, Debs leaned over again, whispering and giggling in Rosemary’s ear Ms Lummell combusted. She strode around the table and up into the bleachers, grabbed Debs by the wrist and yanked her out of her seat.
“You come with me young lady,” Jane Lummell said angrily and dragged Debs towards the doors to the changing rooms.
Deborah was red-faced and her heart was pounding as she was hustled unceremoniously across the gymnasium. She had no doubt that once they reached the changing rooms she would be dragged into Jane Lummell’s office and walloped with the large over-sized plimsoll that the Gym Dame favored.
It occurred to Deborah the explosion of the rubber-soled plimsoll rebounding off her gym-shorts would be clearly audible in the gymnasium. The unpleasant thought made her cheeks burn even brighter.
They had just reached the swing doors to the changing room when Jane Lummell had an abrupt change of heart.
Ms Lummell’s change of heart involved dragging Debs back to the table tennis table, shoving her down, requisitioning a table tennis bat and landing a dozen hearty smacks across her wriggling gym-shorts. The visiting players and their entourage were astounded. It was probably the first and only time that they would witness a world famous tennis player having her butt publicly whupped.
Coldly, Ms Lummell forced the red-faced Deborah to remain in the gymnasium and play out her final game under the amused gazes of the opposing supporters.
I hope you enjoyed the extract, if you want to learn more about the mega-minxes from the Woody Back to School Unit then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Storefront and BUY THE BOOKS! … downloading for just $4.99 per full length book is the cheapest and most expedient way to get access to hundreds of pages of Woody fun … You won’t be disappointed … Bottoms Up! Thanks for stopping by … RH
Don’t Forget – Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page.
Miss Spanky Botts and the Pursuit of Divine Decadence
After 35 years of writing spanking stories I can now officially call myself a ‘Professional Spanking Writer’. I just received my May royalty cheque for sales of volumes of the Woody Back to School Unit made out for the princely sum of $23.97. Now ok this is not the type of income that will sponsor me giving up my day job but I did cop a little buzz when I opened the envelope from the publishers. So my thanks to the guests who have shelled out their hard-earneds and downloaded full versions of the stories from the Woodettes Storefront.
As usual I find myself multi-tasking between writing this blog, editing the existing body of books in readiness for publication, and completing the remaining volumes that will bring me to the conclusion of the saga.
Writing a saga is different from writing short stories which by their very nature require a defined beginning and end. It is an opportunity to slowly develop characters, inter-twine their lives and let them share a wider spectrum of adventures.
One of my favorite characters is Miss Spanky Botts. Spanky does not emerge until the middle-part of the saga but once I had created her she became a central character. Unlike the inmates who have been sentenced to seven years at the Woody Back to School Unit without the possibility of parole Miss Botts is a voluntary paying guest! … This is her story … (extract from Volume 28 – Magic Bumbags) … Enjoy!
Mr Humphries tapped his fork on his silver goblet to attract his guests’ attention. He toasted Cassie for the exquisite banquet. The chef who was now attired in full clobber fanned the skirt of her gymslip and curtsied. Her chums rose to their feet and gave her another standing ovation.
Despite the exotic atmosphere of the Great Hall there was an air of trepidation as the guests were instructed to remove the playing cards from the envelopes that they had been handed when they entered the hall.
During the intermission Derby, Michelle and Frankie had distributed the contents of a case of 1985 King Krug served in icy flutes. Most of the guests nervously gulped down bubbles as Mr Humphries explained the format for the evening’s after-dinner entertainment.
Spanky Botts eyes darted around the table, hoping to see a black ace matching her red. Her eyes widened and a grin came across her face as she saw the card upturned in front of Cathryn Cassidy.
Cat was lounged back in her chair, a cigarette dangling unlit from the corner of her mouth, her signature straw boater cocked downwards masking her eyes in shadow. She slowly flipped open a silver lift arm Dunhill lighter and raised it to her cigarette. She inhaled deeply before releasing the smoke through both nostrils.
“Snap,” she drawled in her husky voice. “Shall we?”
Spanky nodded. “It will be my pleasure,” she told Cat.
Spanky and Cat were a contrast in clobber. Miss Botts invested considerable quid’s on her immaculate collection. She had secured the services of Nixdown Nixon’s personal clobber consultant and dispatched her to far flung locations in pursuit of new materials. Spanky Botts and Nixdown spent hours poring over fabrics, looking for the perfect combinations that would swish and sashay in elegant synchronization as they moved. As Spanky strode towards the stage she looked like the epitome of the whops and clobber fashionista.
During periods that the Old Gals were required to revert to clobber as a disciplinary measure they were obliged to dress in official Woody blazer, blouse, gymslip, waist sash and neck tie, white socks and navy blue gossamer bumbags. However, the many detailed sub-protocols were not applied to the Old Gals which allowed Cat to take a bohemian approach to her clobber. Her top button was never fastened and the knot of her tie generally hung down between her breasts. She wore her cuffs loose, her socks were concertinaed, and she ornamented her blazer with badges and buttons. She wore shockingly revealing gymslips and the ever present straw boater.
Even by Cat’s standards the micro-micro-mini gymslip that she was modeling for Bernadette Summers Enterprises was revealing. Cathryn was not particularly tall but her shapely legs seemed to go on forever. As she bounded up the steps to the stage the skirt of her gymslip flapped up and down, flashing her bumbags at the delighted guests.
She had a broad grin on her face as Cathryn approached her. Cat and Spanky were tight. Most weekends when Spanky was in residence at the facility they ended the evening kicking back in Cat’s apartment drinking champagne. Occasionally Spanky even managed to persuade her chum to put her over her knee for a damn good spanking.
Cat strolled across the stage and picked up a long thin cane from a table. She flexed it between her hands and then pointed it at Spanky.
“Miss Botts,” drawled Cathryn, “the last time I had occasion to beat you I gave you six of the best.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” nodded Spanky, “I remember that rather well.”
“Apparently it did no good whatsoever,” continued Cat, “so I shall not waste my time with another six.”
“Oh,” said Spanky. She cocked her head and looked disappointed.
“Tonight you will receive nine strokes with your bumbags lowered,” said Cathryn.
Spanky Botts had visibly perked at the news that she was due for three bonus strokes. She crossed to the straight backed chair that had been placed in the center of the stage under a single spotlight. She unfastened the top button of her red and black striped blazer and shrugged it off. She hung the garment across the back of the chair and bent forward at the waist.
Cat took her time. She finished her cigarette and emptied her flute of champagne. She removed her own blazer and set it one side. She placed her straw boater on top of it. She reached up and artfully tied her long, lush, dark hair into a knot. She crossed over to the chair and expertly rolled down Spanky’s bumbags. She stepped back and retrieved the long thin cane.
Miss Spanky Botts made no secret of her love of exhibitionism. She had discovered her passion by unfortunate happenstance while she was still at school. At the time she was still known as Sandra. She had also already gained a reputation for disorderly and disreputable behavior. Although she was gregarious and entertaining most of her contemporaries considered her to be a dangerous individual to pal around with. Chumming about with Sandra generally resulted in regular visits to the Grand Dame’s office for a taste of the cane. Nonetheless she was the source of endless fascination and the school magazine even featured a cartoon strip called ‘The Adventures of Sandra’, the last frame generally featured an irate Dame dispatching her upstairs for six of the best.
During her third year at the school a new twist was added to her mythology. Sandra had arrived late at the lunch hall and the queue was already formed. She was faced with a dilemma, she was scheduled to report to the detention room in fifteen minutes and had no time for hanging about. She sneaked along the line until she saw an opportunity and bunked in. Unfortunately she had failed to observe the Duty Dame standing close-by. To her surprise she found herself being spun around, a hand on the back of her neck, being forced forward at the waist. To the astonishment of her school-mates the irate Dame landed a dozen ferocious spanks across the tautened seat of Sandra’s pencil skirt.
The following day a new cartoon began to circulate carrying the banner of ‘The Adventures of Spanky Botts’.
Once she had recovered from the shock of being publicly spanked Miss Botts found herself reliving the experience in her head. To her surprise far from being embarrassed by the incident she found herself amused and titillated. She found herself creating fantastical situations where she was subjected to public punishments during court martial’s, and at reform schools, and convents. Her fantasies included a vast landscape ranging from medieval witch-hunts to Barbarella-like science fiction.
She continued to be considered a trouble-maker and was caned regularly before she was eventually expelled. By now she was universally known as Spanky. She moved to the Smoke where she became a popular feature at the cabaret restaurant, the Tuck Shop. Her popular habit of dancing on the bar and flashing her bumbags at the punters earned her enough tips to keep her in some style. When she was in the mood she allowed certain favored patrons to accompany her upstairs to the private rooms and put her over their knees. It was a lucrative side-line and satisfied her fantasies.
At the Tuck Shop she would meet William Graham. At the time she did not know that he was the world’s richest living artist but she was attracted to him. He invited her to Venice where he owned a Palazzo. She never went home.
William was Spanky’s lover, friend and mentor. Spanky was the famous artist’s beloved muse. He painted, sketched, photographed and videoed her. He created bronzes and sculptures capturing her pixie-like features and wickedly crooked grin. He turned her into a tourist attraction when he bent her over the balustrade of the Palazzo and to the astonishment of commuters on the Grand Canal below beat her bare bottom with a cane. For several years Spanky was in heaven, but sadly her lover passed away.
William had bequeathed her his entire fortune with the caveat that she should spend it on a life dedicated to divine decadence. She did her level best to fulfill his wishes but she was bereft and listless.
It had taken the controversial Snobs and Rotters tribunal to rekindle her spirit. She established the www.woodettes.com web-site and opened Café Woodys. She brokered an arrangement with the Grand Master to allow her and her closest lieutenants to stay at the facility at weekends.
Bent over the back of a chair, with her bumbags around her ankles, waiting to be caned by Cathryn Cassidy, Spanky Botts liked to think that William Graham was smiling down on her.
The guests exchanged glances as Cat Cassidy stepped in close and sliced the cane across the defenseless nates. In general the Saturday night spankings were delivered with a modicum of moderation. However it was generally accepted that Spanky Botts did not visit the facility in pursuit of moderation.
The Woody gals adored the eccentric Miss Botts, not only was she generous in spirit but she also made considerable philanthropic donations to support the upkeep to the facility and to improve the well-being of the inmates. Nobody saw any reason that Spanky shouldn’t get value for her money.
Despite her reputation for being ultra laid-back Cat could be focused and intense when the situation required. She had spent many hours with Spanky discussing her chum’s inner id and fully understood that she would not be looking for even a hint of moderation. Cathryn Cassidy whipped the cane down with lethal precision.
Spanky loved the multiple sensations of the cane. Of all the instruments of pain that she had experimented with she considered a well crafted rattan cane to be the most superior and sophisticated. Each stroke had a life-cycle that started with the scalding moment of impact. This eye-watering sensation was almost immediately followed by the nerve-jangling sensations of it ricocheting throughout her body all the way to the tips of her nose. The flesh wound would slowly transform into a deep underburn, and then, finally, she loved the hours that followed where every step or movement would reactivate the stripes in all manner of surprising ways.
She panted with delight as Cathryn methodically landed stripe after stripe inside the safety of the target area.
Despite the leisurely and unhurried manner that Cat was delivering the caning it was clear that she was not pulling the strokes. Long red tramlines were sitting up prominently across the naked flesh. They watched as Cat stepped in to deliver the deadly closer.
Miss Spanky Botts looked remarkably buoyed as she wriggled from the stage. She grinned and winked at the guests as she made her way back to her floor cushion. The other guests were not looking so cheerful. Any second they would be instructed to turn over the next card and one of them was going to end up with her bottom higher than her head. Mr Humphries tapped his fork against his silver goblet and the guests tentatively turned over their second cards.
I hope you enjoyed the extract, if you want to learn more about the mega-minxes from the Woody Back to School Unit then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Storefront and BUY THE BOOKS! … downloading for just $4.99 per full length book is the cheapest and most expedient way to get access to hundreds of pages of Woody fun … You won’t be disappointed … Bottoms Up! Thanks for stopping by … RH
Don’t Forget – Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page.
The Fine Art of Flagellation – Le Vice Anglais
Welcome to some new guests from France courtesy of a generous acknowledgement by Laurent over at the hugely successful ‘Le Journal de la Fessee’; commendably Laurent has made over 1,000 posts. My apologies, Laurent, that my written French is not good enough to say anything much other than Bonjour.
In France the fine art of flagellation is known as ‘Le Vice Anglais’. Whether the Brits have more of a grand goût for participating in activities involving the rope and rod than our cross-channel cousins is a matter for the sociologists to debate. However, a quick glimpse at a random sampling of my visitors over the past two days clearly indicate that the residents of the country that brought us the works of Marquis de Sade and Georges Bataille are no shrinking violets when it comes to the wonderful world of spanking. France now ranks number three behind the US and UK for visitations to the Woody Back to School Unit. So welcome mes amis.
In an earlier post ‘French Spankings and Six Du Meilleur’ I introduced you to Mdme Diderot, the less than spiritual Dame tasked with enlightening the Woody Gals in the works of Jean Jacques Rousseau and other learned punters. In this extract from the soon to be published Volume 8 – The Dawn of the Great Spank-off she is in particularly crabby form … Enjoy (or Apprécier).
Mdme Diderot had ferociously slashed the cane down three times across the hapless Minxster’s squirming bumbags when her concentration was interrupted by the sound of giggles coming from the back of the room.
She stared incredulously at Miss Ali Stone who was doubled over in apparent hysterics.
The Bounder had turned over a new leaf. Several ounces of prime cannabis leaf had come into her possession which she had generously distributed amongst a small group of discerning connoisseurs. Foolishly Ali had been impatient to sample the new stash and had been tempted to indulge in a lunch-time toke. Ali Stone was now Ali Stoned. Watching the Minxster getting her bumbags cut to tatters suddenly struck her has terribly funny and she burst into a fit off giggles.The French instructor stopped beating Lisa into next week and turned her gimlet eye on the cackling gal at the back of the room.
“It eez funny?” she barked.
It took a little time for Ali to register that the Dame was speaking to her. She tried to concentrate. “Funny Mdme? Mais non, non drôle du tout, Mdme. I was just thinking what if all the bumbags in the world all contained their own universes filled with little people,” she babbled, “and there’s you just whipping away to your hearts content, destroying whole civilizations with the swish of your cane?”
Everybody in the room stared at Ali.
Ali burst into hysterics; “Mdme Diderot, slayer of the bumbagadions and you don’t even know it!” she doubled over with laughter.
Even Lisa had pushed herself up from her prone position to stare at her chum. The French Dame seemed unable to fathom what her next move should be. Ali’s teeth were chattering like a crazed chimp, she pointed her finger at the Dame, “Mdme Conquistador,” she spluttered and rolled over in paroxysms of unfettered giggles.
Mdme Diderot strode across the room. She grabbed Ali by the scruff of her neck and pushed her flat down across the desk.
WHOP! “Ce qui a dans vous la fille? “ WHOP! “Vous avez congé pris de vos sens?” Ali screamed with laughter. “No Mdme, can’t you see it’s you who is crazy!” she hooted. “Fou? Je? Je vous montrerai fou?” WHOP! WHOP! WHOP! Steam was coming out of Mdme Diderot’s ears “Prenez cela!” WHOP! “Et cela!” WHOP! “Et cela! “ WHOP!
Suddenly the blur in Ali’s mind seemed to clear and she promptly stopped giggling.
“Merde! Ce maux!” she hollered.
The Bounder shook her head in wonder. “Whoa,” she muttered, “Must be some damn fine pot. Damn fucking fine.”
Mdme Diderot yanked Ali up from the desk and span her around. She took hold of the knot of Ali’s tie and yanked her forward until their noses were only inches apart and continued to scream at the stoned inmate.
Although the intense heat in her posterior had straightened Ali up to some extent she was having difficulty understanding the Dame’s diatribe that was being delivered in an indecipherable guttural Parisian street slang. Nonetheless she got the gist. The French instructor continued to yank on her tie causing her to choke. To add to the confusion caused by her cannabis haze Ali also had to contend with the overwhelming combination of the vapors of the Dame’s joy house perfume and the potent mixture of absinthe and Gaulloises on her breath. She tried to recoil but Mdme Diderot lassoed her back in using her despised technique known in Woody parlance as the ‘French Yank’. Ali Stone gasped for breath.
Lisa Sutton slid herself back off the desktop and gingerly lowered herself into her seat. She hoped that the distraction caused by Ali’s bizarre behavior would make Mdme forget that she was still three swipes short of a six.
The French instructor finally released her hold on Ali’s tie. Ali reached up and tried to loosen her collar which had been yanked up into her larynx. Momentarily Mdme Diderot seemed at a loss what to do next.
“Êtes-vous ivre?” she asked suspiciously.
“Ivre? Je? Aucun, Mademoiselle,” Ali spluttered quickly.
Ali licked her lips nervously. The weed that Bernadette had sold her was very strong and even though she had gargled mouthwash she wasn’t sure that she wasn’t still suffering from skank breath. Fortunately Mdme appeared to have swallowed down a few absinthe’s over lunch and wasn’t at her most observant. She glared at Ali and then instructed her to hand over her PRB for post processing. Ali Stone breathed a sigh of relief.
The French instructor meticulously entered the punishment. Ali didn’t comment when the Dame fraudulently entered the number of strokes as six. She was just relieved that she wasn’t heading for the Grand Master’s study.
The Dame handed her back her book. As Ali turned away to wriggle back to her desk the French instructor snatched up her cane. She pointed the tip at Lisa.
“Merde,” muttered the Minxster. She rather fancied her cheeks were going to be burning even hotter in the next few moments.
I hope you enjoyed the extract, if you want to learn more about the mega-minxes from the Woody Back to School Unit then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Storefront and BUY THE BOOKS! … downloading for just $4.99 per full length book is the cheapest and most expedient way to get access to hundreds of pages of Woody fun … You won’t be disappointed … Bottoms Up! Thanks for stopping by … RH
Don’t Forget – Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page.
Ginger Get’s Caned in the Punishment Room
At the end of yesterdays post über-minx Debs Morton was last heard of tucking a cane under her arm and heading towards the library. What you may ask could Debs possibly be doing with a cane?
Let me explain … Yesterday’s extract, and the continuation that follows below, both appear in Volume 19 – A Tiffany Box by which time Debs and her Famous Four chums Jojo, Nix and Rosemary have reached the final year of their seven-year sentences and serve as members of the Elite (this is a saga remember). Despite her mercurial tendencies Debs had unexpectedly been promoted to the prestigious position of Deputy Red-Shirt and as Ginger Beckett discovers she is determined to put her sympathies aside and prosecute her duties with detached efficiency.
Ginger had always been a peripheral character in the earlier books but every now and again My Beloved Jojo probes me and asks ‘who is so-and-so?’ and I am prompted to compose a back-story … so for your hopeful entertainment, here is Ginger’s story … Enjoy!
Ginger Beckett was facing the wall with her hands on her head when Deborah arrived at the library.
Debs swung the door to the library open. “Shall we?” she said. Ginger lowered her arms and rolled her shoulders. She cut a glance at Deborah and stepped through the doorway.
Ginger Beckett was an impressive specie. Prior to her incarceration Ginger Beckett had been touted as having the potential to become a future Prima Ballerina. She seemed to glide across the floor as she approached the door to the punishment room at the far end of the library. Her legs seemed to go on for days and her muscles had been beautifully worked and stretched by years of tendu and dégagé. She exuded power and energy.
Unfortunately for Ginger her high-profile love life often garnered more headlines than the lyricism, grace and passion of her dance. The Dark Agents of the System constantly lurked in the shadows and she was twice charged with Misdemeanor Ladetting.
At the age of twenty she fell in love and married a Panamanian cattle farmer and playboy. It proved to be a catastrophe. Unbeknownst to Ginger her husband was planning a coup of a small Caribbean island. It went totally pear-shaped and he was shot dead for his troubles. At the time the unsuspecting Ginger was performing as Carnaval in a production of Swan Lake at a festival in the West Country. She learned of her husband’s demise from the paparazzi baying at the stage door.
The following morning Ginger set off back to the Smoke to make the necessary arrangements. Unusually her regular driver was unavailable but Ginger had no reason to suspect anything was afoot. However, during the journey the limousine was involved in a traffic accident and the rozzer’s were summonsed. The driver was found to be inebriated and in possession of several grams of Bolivian Marching Powder. He was arrested and the unfortunate Ginger was left to hitch-hike home.
The following morning she switched on the Forsham-Smythe Network and to her dismay she found that she was a wanted woman. Apparently the driver had told porkies to Plod and she was accused of supplying him with his stash. She was vilified as an example of Extreme Ladetting. Before she had even finished breakfast the Dark Agents swooped down. She was handcuffed and taken to one of the covert silos of the System where she was tried in camera.
At the time the government was up to its eyeballs in a scandal regarding fiscal impropriety and needed to distract the attention of the Great Unwashed.
Ginger was given an option. She could elect to face charges of supplying the driver with his nose candy and financing a military coup and face the prospect of twenty-five years in chokey, or she could pay a visit to the Big House on charges of Extreme Ladetting. Within hours Ginger Beckett was swapping tutus and ballet slippers for a full set of clobber.
The following morning the Forsham-Smythe Network carried pictures of Ginger dressed in gymslip and blazer being escorted to the Woody Back to School unit. The network gloatingly complimented the government for its tireless efforts at stamping out Extreme Ladettism and the Great Unwashed was temporarily placated.
Surprisingly Ginger settled into Woodys without too much difficulty. She had attended a moderately strict boarding school where the cane was generally used as a last resort. Ginger’s record of being caned fifteen times was considered noteworthy and was the subject of considerable correspondence between the Headmistress and her parents. In one letter the principal requested permission to increase the number of strokes she was given from the maximum allowable of four to a ‘more conventional six of the best.’ When her mother initially resisted the request the Headmistress threatened to suspend Ginger from the dance program. Ginger immediately wrote to her mother begging her to reconsider. “It’s only a swishing, mum,” she wrote, “no big deal.”
In many ways she was to Woodys born. She was a studious and academic cove by nature and the advanced curriculum instituted by Ms Lawton suited her. During the day she was the quiet bespectacled Julie who consistently produced grade averages that challenged Debs and Lisa. By contrast once she was out of the lecture halls she was the riotous and rambunctious Ginger who always seemed to be in trouble.
As Debs and Ginger crossed through the main room of the library several inmates politely gathered their books and papers and stuffed them in their satchels. Without needing to be asked they vacated the area.
Ginger Beckett opened the door to the punishment room and stepped to one side. “After you Ma’am,” she said courteously.
Mr Humphries had renovated the library into a light and airy space filled with work stations and comfortable lounge chairs. He had subscribed to internet access to many of the most prestigious libraries in the world. It was a popular hangout for the inmates.
At the far end of the library was a second room which was considerably less popular.
The long, narrow room was suitably austere and imposing. The floors and walls were paneled in dark oak. There was no overhead lighting or windows, just some dimmed table lamps placed strategically on occasional tables. At the far end of the room was a huge ornate fireplace which was never lit. The temperature in the room was kept purposefully chilly. It was not a room that the inmates visited voluntarily.
Deborah and Ginger both knew the form; they had both spent more time in the forbidding room than they cared to remember. Without being instructed Julie Beckett walked along the wooden floor. She slipped off her blazer and folded it neatly before placing it on one of the side tables. She turned around to face Deborah. Debs placed her cane on a table and removed her own blazer. Slowly she unbuttoned the cuffs of her blouse and turned them back meticulously. Finally she reached up and loosened her tie and unfastened the top button of her blouse. Ginger watched Deborah impassively as she picked up the cane and flexed it between her hands.
They both understood the ritual. Every second was precisely planned to maximize tension and anxiety. Nothing was left to chance. From the moment that Linda Ash had accosted her in the recreation area and told her that she was required to cut along to the library sharpish Ginger had thought of nothing else but her impending six of the best. As she cut through the labyrinth of corridors that led to the library all she had thought about was being caned.
Fifteen minutes was considered an appropriate duration for a nose and toes session. It left adequate time for personal contemplation over the forthcoming sensations about to be aroused in one’s rear end. Cruel prefects like Yvonne Godfrey and her cronies had often left their hapless victims for as long as an hour. Debs liked to keep with the program and always made sure she was punctual.
It added valuable seconds to the program and continued to increase tension.
“Would you like to loosen up?” asked Debs.
Ginger nodded. She unfastened the cuffs of her blouse but didn’t turn them back which would have been a break with protocol. She loosened her tie and unfastened her top button.
The two gals stood at either end of the punishment room staring at each other evenly.
“Alright, bend over, Beckett,” Deborah said finally.
Debs watched as Ginger approached the fireplace and folded herself in half, her fingers balancing on her toes. She pursed her lips and slowly made her way along the wooden floor. She understood that Ginger’s heart rate would be increasing and her mouth would be drying up as she listened to the pad of her feet approaching.
Debs put the cane on a side table and then slowly turned back the hem of Ginger’s gymslip. She rearranged the tail of her white blouse so that it was out of the firing line. She retrieved the cane and set her feet squarely. She tapped the cane down once, twice, thrice and brought her arm back. She knew from experience that no matter how often you had been caned before this was the defining moment. She swiped the cane down across Gingers bumbags. Game on!
Deborah breathed a sigh of relief. The shaft of the cane had reached the target area with perfect accuracy. The irony of her circumstances was not last on Deborah. Just forty-five minutes ago she had been face down arse up across Dotty Hammell’s lap having her backside pummeled with a wooden spatula. Now here she was in the role of disciplinarian with her backside throbbing in a most disagreeable manner.
Ginger had heard the rumors about Deborah’s legendary right arm but had assumed that they were exaggerated. After all she reasoned even legendary whoppers like Claire Brooks and Melanie White had only been rated eight point five on the GalGab Hottest Whoppers hit-list. Ginger had been whopped by both gals and doubted very much that anybody was going to get any hotter with the short thin ashplant.
Ginger let out an audible hiss. Her back arched and her fingers momentarily jerked up from her toes. The first swipe had been an absolute scorcher. It struck her that it was totally unreasonable that anybody could generate that much heat with such an innocuous looking weapon.
The ashplants used by the Elite gals at the Woody Back to School unit were steeped in tradition. When the Lawrence Sisters had first opened the original Woody School in 1857 they had created the Elite to administrate the school outside of classroom hours. The twelve prefects were distinguished from the other pupils by their swanky modes. They sauntered around the campus in tailored silk blazers and regarded themselves as the haut monde. They were required to carry their ashplants tucked under their arms whenever they were at large around the facility and were granted full thrashing rights over their subordinates. By all accounts they used them liberally.
The first Red-shirt was a girl named Peggy Howard-Jones. Reportedly she was a despot that could well have served as a role model for later tyrants like Katie Beck, Patty Hodge and Yvonne Godfrey.
The famous diarist Clementine Montgomery wrote, “Peggy took delivery of six new ashplants shipped in from Dublin today. Saplings from the mountain ash that have been specially seasoned in a chimney, she told me. She was keen to try them out. She selected six of us at random for the trials. Afterwards she asked us how it was. Foolishly I told her that it was just middling warm so she bent me over again and gave me six more”.
The privilege of thrashing the girls from the lower school was deeply coveted by the members of the Elite corps. It was perceived as a rite of passage. Even the most liberal prefects fastidiously practiced their art.
For nearly a century and half the O’Hara family in Dublin provided thousands of ashplants to the Woody School. They came with the assurance that they were one hundred percent pre-tested for weight, balance and suppleness. Names of the participants in the quality trials are not identified in the associated literature.
Although the ashplants were lighter and less punishing than the number one canes wielded by the Brass or the senior canes used by the principal when applied correctly the ashplants were very effective.
Thrashing was considered a competitive sport and the Elite vied for the reputation as the hottest of the hot.
Another famous diarist, Deborah’s mother, Penny Morton, recalled in her memoir, “I was thrashed again today for running on the back stairs. It wasn’t so bad, just six with the ashplant, but I spent the rest of the day with the disconcerting sensation of having a swarm of bees in my bumbags.”
Hatching about with bees in the bumbags was a regular condition amongst the Woody gals. The Elite Charter gave the prefects authority to cane the gals for the most minor infractions of the rules, regulations and protocols. Nonetheless six strokes of the whippy ashplant were generally considered preferable to boring detentions or the time-consuming writing of lines.
Major Susan Lawton was a product of the original Woody School and when she was commissioned to establish the nation’s most austere social rehabilitation center she had elected to use her alma mater, the original Woody School, as her model, warts and all.
She contacted the O’Hara family and was delighted to discover that they still cut the occasional sapling for supply to a private and discerning clientele. Ms Lawton ordered six ashplants each for her newly appointed Elite and placed a standing order for monthly shipments to the facility.
Ginger was no stranger to the sensation of having bees in the bumbags. Her irreverent attitude towards the pre’s had made her a regular visitor to the punishment room. However, on this occasion she was certain that the aftermath was going to be considerably more disquieting than just bees in the bumbags.
Ginger Beckett was no muff but she was having considerable difficulty maintaining position and putting it up and keeping it up. Deborah was into her rhythm and delivering perfect strike after perfect strike. They were five strokes in and Debs was setting up for the closer.
Despite the ferocious burning in her own bum Debs did not allow herself to be distracted.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Let’s get it on,” grunted Ginger.
Debs swung the cane through the air and closed with a perfect five-bar gate. Ginger Beckett groaned.
I hope you enjoyed the extract, if you want to learn more about the mega-minxes from the Woody Back to School Unit then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Storefront and BUY THE BOOKS! … downloading for just $4.99 per full length book is the cheapest and most expedient way to get access to hundreds of pages of Woody fun … You won’t be disappointed … Bottoms Up! Thanks for stopping by … RH
Don’t Forget – Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page.
Caning Cathryn and Spanking the Police Sergeant
The internet opened up a Brave New World to the spanking community. It allows access to a vast array of materials that were previously only available to the strong-hearted who were willing to explore the sleazier under-bellies of the large metropolises and had considerable quids to throw about (see Soho, London, Circa 1972-1975). Now hundreds of blogs and web-sites give us access to news and views on our chosen kink from the comfort of our living rooms.
One such site, The Spanking Bloggers Network, has been created by a group of bloggers where visitors find easy access to the latest posts from a wide range of blogs. The membership of the SBN demonstrates the diversity of tastes in our community ranging from yours truly’s epic spanking saga to the many sites that deal with the daily loves and lives of spanko’s and spankettes from all over the world. Well worth a little rummage.
Nothing to do with the story but the best I could come up with when it came to Police-women
My own particular tastes have always included a fascination with the spanking of women dressed in uniforms. It seemed appropriate that I should introduce a police-woman into the mix at the Woody Back to School Unit so I created the character of Police Sergeant Ellen Millar who has since become one of my favorite characters.
In this extract from the soon to be published Volume 16 – The People’s Choice the iconic ultra-cool-cat Cathryn Cassidy has been arrested for misdemeanor possession of a small quantity of wacky-baccy. The Grand Master intercedes on her behalf and brokers a deal with Plod whereby she will be caned for the pleasure of the police officers.
To add to the entertainment of the pimply plod the hated House Captain of the Red House, Sally Cobb is also forced to endure an epic thrashing after she is caught red-handed trying to engineer bogus whops.
Finally when the entertainment is thought to be over the Chief Constable of the rozzers makes a surprise announcement.
By the way, this is quite a long extract so put your feet up, pour yourself a glass of wine and hopefully you will enjoy.
The first stretch limousine pulled into the facility grounds at seven o’clock, carrying Patsy and Lindsey Butcher. The limo had dark tinted windows to obscure the passengers from any prying paparazzi that might be lurking outside the gates. The car parked beside the gymnasium and the two gals stepped out, neatly attired in full clobber.
Ms Scott mingled with the select group of inmates that had been invited to the event. The Grand Master had wasted no time in installing her in her new position and had made her responsible for ensuring the smooth running of the evening’s entertainment.
“You nervous?” she asked Cathryn.
“Hell no,” drawled Cat. “This will be good old fashioned Woody fun and we’ll be in control.”
At nine o’clock two more limousines pulled into the grounds. The front car was occupied by the Chief Constable and his most senior aides. The second car carried the six policemen and women who had got lucky in the lottery that had been drawn at the Annual Policeman’s Ball. Mr Humphries and Ms Scott went outside to greet their guests.
Inside the accommodation areas of the facility the remaining Woody gals and the Brass milled about in the various common rooms. Nix had hooked up video links to wide screen TV’s and Mr Humphries had organized appropriate refreshments to allow the mesmerized spectators to make a night of it.
Inside the gymnasium Heidi Alexander and Linda Ash took orders for drinks and offered out the canapés. Penelope Ann Evans looked elegant in a tuxedo as she stood behind the bar and poured cocktails.
The inner sanctum of mega-minxes introduced themselves to the members of the constabulary and posed for souvenir pictures. The only person in the gymnasium who didn’t seem to be enjoying herself was Sally Cobb who stood off to the side looking sullen and morose.
Mr Humphries allowed his guests thirty minutes to acclimatize themselves and to meet the gals. Then he stepped into the center of the gymnasium.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced. “If you would be so kind as to find a seat and make yourselves comfortable we will proceed.”
The police took their places in the comfortable chairs, Heidi and Linda making sure their glasses were full and that they had enough to eat. The Woody gals took their places, demurely seating themselves on rows of chairs set up against the wall of the gymnasium.
“As you are aware,” the Grand Master said, “we are here this evening as a result of a minor misdemeanor perpetrated by one of our most senior members. In a spirit of co-operation Chief Constable Collins has agreed that this trivial offence is not worthy of appearing on Miss Cassidy’s record and in return Miss Cassidy has agreed to undergo a punishment of a corporal nature as a reprimand for her actions. Miss Cassidy’s formal reprimand will occur later in the evening, however, as an ice breaker she has agreed to open the proceedings with a traditional spanking from Chief Constable Collins. So without further ado if I may ask both of you to step up to the chair we will begin.”
Cathryn stood up. As usual she was wearing her version of full clobber, her tie loose and her gymslip so short that the guests from the local constabulary could almost see her bumbags as she walked. The Rozzers whooped and wolf-whistled. Cat turned around, winked and tossed her boater into the darkness.
The Chief Constable had divested himself of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Cat folded herself across his lap and stretched herself out. The policeman rolled down her bumbags and spat on his hands. Cathryn wiggled her bottom cheekily.
In the common rooms the gals and the Brass were circled around TV’s excitedly watching the events in the gymnasium. Many of them were aspiring mega-minxes who dreamed of the day when they might be included into Mr Humphries revered inner sanctum. Their eyes boggled as they watched one of their spiritual leader’s bumbags being lowered.
For an amateur the Chief Constable didn’t do a bad job. He started out tentatively. Cathryn wiggled in his lap to encourage him and he soon warmed to his work. Soon Cathryn’s cheeks began to ruddy and her wriggles became a little more earnest. As the senior policeman became more confident he began to build up a nice rhythm, spanking Cathryn up one side of her bottom and back down the other. By the time he had given Cat the allotted thirty six spanks on either cheek she was genuinely pleased to get her bum out of the firing line. Nonetheless, when she had straightened her clobber she leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek, winking at him and telling him, “Not bad big boy,” in her husky flirtatious voice. The cops roared with laughter and clapped their hands. Cathryn curtsied and went back to her seat.
The Grand Master stood up again. “Now we have special treat for you. The gals sitting down here have voluntarily entered their names into the tombola. The six lucky winners from your earlier lottery are going to dig into the tombola and select a name and as your prize you get to spank the gal you pick. So lets have our first winner Police Constable Debbie Hartley.”
With the exception of the Chief Constable the other guests were dressed in their glad rags for the evening. The woman who stepped forward looked quite young, as if she may have just graduated from cadet school. She wore a red cocktail dress, with her hair fussed up on the top of her head and a pair of high heeled sling backs. She approached the Grand Master with a slightly nervous look on her face.
The Woody gals exchanged glances, smiling apprehensively as Mr Humphries span the tombola. The policewoman reached in and picked out a folded piece of paper. She opened it and read out the name, looking at Mr Humphries for guidance.
“Patsy Butcher,” she read.
“Oh my gawd,” exclaimed Patsy. “Me and my big mouth!” Nonetheless she giggled and stood up.
The police constable gaped at the sight of the statuesque Rastafarian. She raised her head slowly until she was looking up at Patsy. Even in her high heels Police Constable Debbie Hartley was a clear four inches shorter than the Woody Old Gal.
“Holy fuck,” she mouthed soundlessly.
Patsy smiled at the policewoman. “Shall we?” she asked politely.
The lottery spankings were carried out in an atmosphere of fun and good cheer. The spankings were limited to thirty-six smacks that were nothing more than amusement to the six Woody gals whose names were picked from the tombola. Bernadette Summers, Cassie Cassy, Claire Brooks, Rachel Cox and finally the Minxster followed Patsy over the knees of the excited members of the constabulary. Everybody cheered and laughed as the six gals kicked their legs and pretended to squeal at the police officers’ efforts. Four policewomen and two male detectives had been the lucky winners and it was generally agreed that the women did far better than the chaps.
After the lottery spankings Mr Humphries announced an intermission. The Woody gals mingled with their guests, laughing and joking at the performances during the first act.
The Bounder came across to where Jojo, Nix, Rosemary and Debs were entertaining some of the senior members of the local Plod.
“I don’t fucking believe it,” she groaned. “You don’t know how much dosh I lost on you. Who would have believed that not one of the Famous Four got picked out. And you Debs, you nearly put me in fucking bankruptcy. You’re the unluckiest fucker I ever met, I bet large on you getting your bum whacked!”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Debs giggled to the guests. “Meet the Bounder.”
After glasses had been replenished Mr Humphries attracted everybody’s attention again. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would take your places, we are ready for the main event.” He waited politely while the crowd hustled back to their places. “As you are aware,” he continued, “we are here to witness Miss Cassidy make amends for her unfortunate venture into the world of recreational soft drugs. However, tonight we also have a unique opportunity to demonstrate a little about the Woody community. At this facility we consider ourselves a family, and like all families we experience the occasional familial misunderstandings, squabbles and disputes. This evening you are going to witness one of our own willingly making an act of contrition for an action she now deeply regrets, and you will see how we deal with our own.” He smiled. “Miss Cassidy, Miss Cobb, take your places.”
Cathryn Cassidy stood up, a look of intense concentration on her face; she smoothed down her skirt and stepped forward. She strode down the hall with a confident swagger. The inmates in the gym exchanged admiring glances. To her fellow inmates Cat Cassidy would always be the epitome of cool.
Sally Cobb was looking anything but the epitome of cool. She sat rigidly in her chair, the look on her face a mixture of terror and uncertainty. Mr Humphries statement regarding her willingness to participate in the event was not entirely accurate. She hadn’t slept for several nights; the prospect of her forthcoming ordeal had left her in a blue funk. Stripped of the protection of her Elite status she had become a figure of ridicule. She slunk about the campus dressed in full clobber and avoiding contact with the other inmates.
Patty Hodge had summonsed her to her study and given her a vicious thrashing for failing to complete her mission. Katie had dragged her over her knee and slippered her for grassing her up to the Grand Master. It was a miserable time for Sally but at least she had escaped the terrible prospect of being sent back before the System and the awful consequences that might have faced her.
Sally turned and looked forlornly at Lady Vix. The Red-shirt stared at her pointedly. Finally with a look of hopeless resignation on her face the disgraced former Captain of the Red House stood up.
At the end of the row of seats the Butcher Twins also stood up, watching and waiting as Cathryn and Sally approached the beam that had been lowered at the end of the gymnasium. When the two gals reached the beam they positioned themselves ten feet apart and placed their hands on the bar at shoulder width. The Butcher Twins followed them down the gymnasium.
“You ready?” Lindsey whispered in Cathryn’s ear.
Cat nodded and released her grip from the bar and bent forward in one fluid movement. Her skirt was so short that by the time she was in the full hangover it had turned itself up her back, exposing her tautened bumbags.
“Good luck,” whispered Lindsey.
Patsy was having more difficulty with Sally, having to coerce her into assuming the full hangover, but eventually Sally acceded and raised herself up onto the balls of her feet and allowed her head and arms to dangle unsupported towards the floor.
With the two gals suitably positioned the Butcher Twins turned and walked back to the far end of the gymnasium, where Suzy Scott was waiting with a pair of super canes in her hands.
The atmosphere in the gymnasium of jovial bonhomie that had prevailed during the lottery spankings had changed to more somber feeling of tense excitement. The Woody gals stared at the two gals prostrated across the wooden beam with mixed emotions. Much as they hated to see their beloved Cat in this unfortunate predicament they knew she would do them proud. They sent subliminal messages of good will and strength to their favorite sister.
Woody gals were not by nature malicious souls but the onlookers were delighted to witness Sally getting ready to receive her comeuppance. Although she was viewed as a pathetic specimen of the human race with the protection of her handlers on the Radical Right she had managed to cause a good deal of unnecessary unpleasantness for the inmates.
There was very little in the way of goodwill or positive vibes being directed towards Sally Cobb as she bent over the beam.
The Butcher Twins loosened their ties and rolled up their sleeves. They accepted the super canes from Suzy and tested them by swishing them through the air.
Ms Scott stepped between them and flipped a coin in the air.
“Heads,” called Patsy.
Cathryn Cassidy narrowed her eyes and focused on a small square of floor. She concentrated on keeping her breathing even and her muscles relaxed. She knew that she had to get into the moment and ignore her surroundings. This was no different to the many public floggings she had received during her illustrious career and besides the audience had already seen her bare bum. It’s really no big deal she told herself.
Sally Cobb’s heart was pounding. She had never been so terrified in her life. This was a very big deal for the former House Captain. Unlike Cathryn she didn’t have the experience of a catalogue of public floggings to draw upon. Sally did not appear amongst the top ten of the All-Time Hall of Shame, quite the opposite.
Prior to her incarceration at the Woody facility Sally had been a low ranking foot soldier amongst the Confederacy of Yoofs. Yvonne Godfrey had scouted her and given her a position on her staff. Sally had possessed all the attributes that Yvonne looked for; she was a sniveling sycophant, she reveled in the misfortune of others and she was not much brighter than three sheep. Just the type of sacrificial pawn Yvonne liked to surround herself with.
When Yvonne and her cronies at the top of the Confederacy had first been arrested they had been charged by the Serious Crime Squad. In return for the charges being reduced to Extreme Ladetting Yvonne had promised to blow the whistle on the higher echelons of the Yoof movement.
However, Yvonne Godfrey was a wily bird and far brighter than anything Plod had on offer. She had no intention of damaging the criminal organization she had worked tirelessly to create. She effortlessly concocted a diversionary tale that implicated the hapless Sally as her heir apparent as the top female Yoof. Within twelve months Sally Cobb had been arrested three times and was immediately dispatched to the Big House for a mandatory seven year sentence without the possibility of parole.
Sally Cobb was not cut out for a regime of being spanked, slippered and caned. She quickly gained a reputation as a total muff, regularly breaking the Woody code by howling and blubbing when she was punished.
Whereas Cathryn had consistently remained in the top ten of the All-Time Hall of Shame throughout her sentence Sally had successfully remained at the opposite end of the scale. She was amongst the handful of inmates in the facilities history not to accumulate double figures during the first six years of her sentence.
Yvonne used her as her personal gopher and snitch. During Godder’s heyday as commandant of the SS Sally’s snitching had caused many of the inmates to find themselves upstairs in the library having their bumbags cut to tatters.
The Radical Right had known that she was not cut of the same cloth as Yvonne but they had limited options for creating a new SS amongst Lady Victoria’s Elite.
It was a miserable year for Sally. Victoria watched her like a hawk and left Sally in no doubt that her lethal hairbrush was always just seconds away from landing on her backside if she even suspected the Red House Captain of delivering bogus whops.
When Sally broached the subject of tendering her resignation form the SS Patty Hodge brought Sally to her study and subjected her to a vicious thrashing with her wye-tipped cane and warned Sally that if she failed in her duties Patty would personally target her. Once she had finished giving Sally her ominous warning Patty had bent the prefect over for a second time and thrashed her again just for shits and giggles.
Patty, Katie and the Wart kept her focused by beating her regularly. Although her official record did not reflect these private thrashings, during her prefectorial year Sally Cobb accumulated more canings than she had in the previous six years combined.
Bent over the beam in the gymnasium, with the skirt of her gymslip turned back, Sally Cobb felt her eyes welling up with tears of frustration and humiliation.
Cathryn and Sally tensed. They had no idea what was happening behind them except for the slap of a single pair of feet approaching at speed. A cane whined through the air, the two gals squeezed their eyes closed. THWHACK!!! The cane lashed down across Cat’s bumbags making her gasp.
Lindsey Butcher strode back up the gymnasium and stood next to her sister. Ms Scott nodded at Patsy who set off at pace.
Sally Cobb’s head jerked up and she screamed as the stripe of heat imploded through her nerve endings. It was a good clean strike, precisely placed across the crown of her arse. Sally’s body jolted back down pathetically and she hung upside down panting.
The two gals heard feet behind them. Cat gritted her teeth and braced herself. Sally concentrated on trying to deal with the burning stripe the cane had left. The cane swept through the air and Sally let out a scream of surprise and anguish. The stroke caught her totally unprepared and raised her several inches further over the beam. Tears flowed freely down her face.
Ms Scott nodded and Patsy Butcher took off for the third consecutive time. Despite her hapless circumstances, when she heard the cane swipe down across Sally’s bumbags Cat grinned to herself.
“Clever,” she thought, “very fucking clever!”
There was no rhythm to the way that Ms Scott cut the twins loose, so Cat and Sally had to prepare themselves each and every time that they heard the clatter of feet approaching. It was an effective strategy and even the experienced Cat was finding the constant uncertainty disconcerting. At first Sally had been seeing most of the action receiving her first six strokes while Cathryn only got two. Then, to even things up, Ms Scott released Lindsey to unleash a four-stripe salvo that took Cathryn’s breath away.
At the halfway mark neither of the Butcher Twins were showing any sign of slowing up. They sped down upon their prey, delivered their swipes, and then returned to the end of the gym without breaking a sweat.
At the far end of the gym the two victims were a study in contrasts. Predictably Cathryn Cassidy was taking her beating in stoic silence. Beside her Sally was shaking and shuddering. She was letting out full-blooded howls as each stroke sliced across her bumbags. Between strokes she hung upside down making gurgling sounds in a most disagreeable manner.
Ms Scott gave Patsy the nod and she set off at a trot, accelerating slightly then going in low and cutting the cane across the lower flesh of Sally’s cheeks. Not quite a low rider but enough to raise Sally’s feet clear off the ground. The disgraced House Captain was in danger of toppling so far forward that she would slide clear over the beam. Patsy leaped forward and caught her, helping her back down. Leaning over and checking Sally was okay, Sally just gurgling, unable to make words. Patsy waiting, keeping her hand on Sally’s back, telling her to take her time and catch her breath. Then when Sally finally muttered that she was okay, turning and walking back.
The next few strokes were delivered alternately. Cat, Sally, Cat, Sally and then Cat again. Next Ms Scott released Patsy to unleash two super swipes across Sally’s defenseless behind. Both swipes were greeted with raucous howls. Her tally had now reached eleven.
Ms Scott nodded at Lindsey. Cat braced herself, sensing her turn was coming. She flexed her calves and got up on the balls of her feet, bracing her hips over the beam and reaching down so her bum was up high and proud. She heard the feet accelerating and the whine of the cane cutting through the air before it cracked down across her bumbags. She whistled and clenched her fists, regrouping as she heard Lindsey stepping away, fairly sure the next swipe would be hers too. She wasn’t mistaken and she gasped as another perfectly controlled stroke swiped down across her beleaguered bum. The two gals had now received eleven strokes each.
Patsy and Lindsey looked down at Ms Scott, waiting for her signal. The new Head of Operations looked from one to the other and then gave Lindsey the nod.
The crowd watched breathlessly as Lindsey started her final run-up. Under the subdued lighting that Nix had designed only the white of her crisp blouse was visible until she burst into the spotlight overhanging the beam, like a predatory Amazon with her cane arcing through the air towards its defenseless quarry. The crack of the cane echoed around the gymnasium causing everybody to squirm and not the least Cathryn Cassidy. The super cane sliced across the stripes under Cat’s bumbags like a heat seeking missile. Cathryn groaned.
Lindsey stood beside Cathryn, waiting to help her chum up, while her twin sister started her approach. Looking equally formidable Patsy burst in to light and swung her arm fast. She slashed the cane down in a perfectly clean strike, a fitting finale to a beautifully executed dozen. Sally screamed. She bucked and squirmed, kicked and wriggled. She opened up her lungs and continued to howl. Patsy leaned over and told her to take her time and collect herself.
Lindsey helped Cathryn to her feet. Cat smiled gamely and hugged her chum. “Good shooting,” she laughed in a hushed voice.
“Well taken, sis,” said Lindsey returning Cat’s hug.
Mr Humphries stepped forward and was beginning to thank the guests for visiting the facility when the Chief Constable interrupted.
“If you don’t mind Grand Master, there is one last piece of business I’d like to take care of,” he said.
Mr Humphries shrugged.
The Chief Constable spoke into his cell phone. “Bring her in,” he said.
Momentarily the doors of the gymnasium swung open and two strapping police officers walked in. Between them was a uniformed policewoman, neatly clad in a tunic and skirt over her white blouse and tie, and a hat with a black and white chequered band on her head. She had three sergeants’ stripes on the sleeves of her tunic.
“Please come in Sergeant Millar,” said the Chief Constable in an authoritative tone.
The police sergeant narrowed her eyes slightly, squinting around the room, before she shrugged her arms loose from the two male Plod and stepped forward.
The inmates couldn’t help noticing that when she stood before the Chief Constable she assumed exactly the same pose they assumed when they were in trouble with the Brass. Shoulders back, eyes straight-ahead, arms by her sides and her knees together.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Chief Constable addressed the room, “this is Police Sergeant Ellen Millar. For the past several days I have had Sergeant Millar’s disciplinary file on my desk and I have been considering what action to take. This is not the first time that her file has appeared on my desk. In fact, during the past six months Sergeant Millar has already received two informal reprimands. I will not dwell on her specific transgressions except to say that they relate to internal Police disciplinary procedures and that she has done nothing in the least bit illegal. Under the circumstances it would be normal practice for me to give her an official reprimand and to pass her file to internal affairs to discipline her.”
The Woody gals watched the policewoman intently. She looked about the same age as them, in her early to mid-twenties, looking neat in her well-pressed uniform. But, it was the look on her face that they were watching. It was a look that they saw everyday at the facility. Part defiant, part anxious, part resigned. It was the look of a gal who had been caught and was waiting to discover her fate.
“However,” the Chief Constable continued, “consider this. The internal affairs department will not take into account that Sergeant Millar is an outstanding officer in the field, nor will they care that she is amongst the youngest female sergeants on the force. What they will care about is that she has made three unfortunate errors of judgment, trivial errors of judgment, and in all likelihood they will demote her.”
The Woody gals empathized big time when they noticed Sergeant Millar’s mouth involuntarily twitch into a momentary grimace.
“Demotion in the police force is a very serious matter and for a young sergeant it may prove irrecoverable.” The Chief Constable sighed. “Until earlier today I felt I had no choice but to do the usual and throw Sergeant Millar to the piranhas. But then I got to thinking, perhaps I have options. Perhaps I could cut her some slack, perhaps I could take a lesson out of the Woody handbook and how they look after their own.” He looked at the Sergeant sternly. “But of course that will be up to you young lady!”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” laughed Lady Vix in disbelief. “You want me to spank Plod?”
“Exactly,” said the Grand Master.
“And you don’t think she might take umbrage to this particular proposition?”
“Well she might,” he admitted, “we’ll find out soon enough.”
The policewoman bit her lower lip nervously. “I’m not sure I understand,” she muttered, but from the look on her face the Woody gals could tell that she understood very well.
The Chief Constable sighed. “Don’t pretend to be obtuse Sergeant. Obtusity doesn’t become you,” he told her.
“No sir, sorry sir,” said Sergeant Millar somewhat numbly. “I think I get the gist, but what exactly are you proposing?”
“What exactly is a double dangling?” the Chief Constable asked Mr Humphries.
Mr Humphries leaned over and whispered in the policeman’s ear.
“Oh!” said the boss Rozzer. “Well that certainly sounds like a plan.”
Police Sergeant Ellen Millar unbuttoned the silver buttons of her tunic and let it fall open. She took off her hat with the checkerboard band and handed it to Heidi Alexander. Her eyes flitted from the spanking stool that had been brought from the library to Lady Vix who was slapping the hairbrush against the palm of her hand.
“When you were at school, were you ever sent to the Headmistress’ office Sergeant?” asked the Chief Constable.
The policewoman flushed. “Yes sir, once or twice.”
“And what happened to you?”
Sergeant Millar’s flush transformed into a full cherry blush. “I got the cane sir.”
“Whoa,” giggled Nix. “PC Minx!”
“Goes to show,” laughed Jojo. “Once a minx always a minx.”
Lady Victoria Brompton climbed up onto the spanking stool.
“Remove your jacket Sergeant,” she said firmly, “and come here and bend over my knee.”
Ellen Millar’s mind was racing. It was hard to believe that this was happening to her. At twenty-six years old she was an admired and commended policewoman. Yet standing in the gymnasium she felt as if she had come full circle from her schooldays.
At school Ellen had a reputation as an athletic tomboy, happier hanging out with the jocks than her prissy girl classmates. One afternoon, while hanging with the boys a fight had broken out and although a mere onlooker she had been marched back to the school and brought up before the Headmaster. As a result of their unseemly behavior they were told they would be caned, Ellen Millar included. She remembered waiting outside the office as the boys went in one by one, and listening nervously to the sound of the cane bouncing off the lads tautened trousers emanating through the heavy door.
It was rare for girls to get the cane, she had only ever heard of two or perhaps three girls before her. She was left until last, to avoid embarrassment. She watched as the boys came out of the study, looking nonchalant, and then it came to her turn. She was made to wait some more while the Deputy Headmistress was brought up to witness the punishment. Then she was told to raise her skirt and stretch out across the big desk while she got six swipes that made her eyes water. She remembered desperately trying not to let them see that they had hurt her and sniffing back her tears when she found one of the boys waiting at the foot of the stairs to make sure she was okay.
To her surprise and delight the fact that she was the first girl ever to be caned who hadn’t cried elevated her to legendary status amongst her schoolmates.
Although she continued to enjoy a reputation as a reckless tomboy she was by far the most popular girl in the school. Unlike the other girls who had been caned and had never gone back for seconds Ellen was caned on three more occasions. Each time she increased her legend with her fearless performances and never once howled or blubbed.
When it came time for her to become a prefect she held the majority of the popular vote to be appointed Headgirl. However, on the eve of the final ballot her closest opponent managed to fabricate evidence that Ellen was responsible for vandalizing one of the school cloakrooms.
Ellen Millar didn’t much care that she was caned again but she was horrified when she was informed that she would no longer even be eligible to act as a prefect. It was a painful year for Ellen. She threw caution to the wind and ran with a fast crowd. She established a school record for being caned but her popularity continued to grow.
After leaving school she had gone to secretarial college and then into the typing pool at a large department store. She hated every moment and missed the cut and thrust of being the school’s resident tomboy and chief troublemaker. She craved for danger and excitement and then she saw an advertisement for the police academy at Hendon and applied.
Her years as a police constable were exciting and successful. She received several citations for bravery in the course of duty, opening the door to her promotion to Sergeant at the youthful age of twenty-five. At first her laudable career continued without a hitch, and then suddenly over the past six months things had begun to go awry.
She began to date a detective, a hard-drinking, independent man, and she began to call in sick a little too frequently and was occasionally late for roll call. Twice she was carpeted and given informal reprimands, before this latest incident when she had drunk a little too much and although she wasn’t squiffy, she had been put on desk duty for the day while the Chief Constable reviewed his options.
The policewoman finally shrugged off her tunic and handed it to Linda Ash and then she walked across the gymnasium towards the spanking stool and Lady Victoria Brompton. In her white blouse and black tie, and black skirt and flat shoes she could have passed for an inmate of the Woody Back to School unit. The Woody gals watched in interest as she stepped forward.
Lady Victoria had Ellen Millar over and up, with her skirt turned back. The Red-shirt looked over at Mr Humphries who nodded. Vix put her fingers in the elastic of the policewoman’s bumbags and yanked them down, along with her nylon hose. Ellen tried to look back over her shoulder but she was in a full dangle and it was impossible. The gals watched as she finally hung her head between her dangling arms and lay helplessly waiting for Vix to pop her with the hairbrush.
Ellen Millar felt the wooden back of the hairbrush being circled over her naked flesh. She tried to take stock of the situation. She was trained to keep calm under the most difficult of circumstances and circumstances did not become more difficult than this she decided.
The sensation of being dangled was quite disconcerting. It was quite unlike being bent over a desk like she had been when she was being caned at school. She felt completely at the mercy of Lady Victoria.
It had been seven years since her last caning and she was suffering from a bad case of the butterflies in the pit of her tummy.
All in all, she concluded, the situation did not look promising.
Victoria Brompton was laying it on with familiar gusto. She had tucked Ellen Millar in tightly and was working her arse from top to bottom, up one side and down the other. The inmates watched intently as the upturned pink flesh began to transition from a ruddy rouge to resembling an orange sunset.
Ellen Millar dangled head down arse up experiencing the full blazing glory of a double dangling. Helpless to defend herself she felt smack after smack rebounding off her bottom. The burning in her behind intensified as each stroke landed on the already red and swollen flesh. Her legs kicked back frantically and she waved her fists in the air hopelessly. She had lost count of the slaps and was willing the spanking to finish.
Vix looked down at her handiwork. The policewoman’s beleaguered bum was completely reddened, not a square centimeter of pink flesh was visible. She took a tight grip on the hairbrush and readied herself to unleash a final six spank blitz.
The police sergeant’s buttocks twitched spastically as the final salvo slapped down on the already steaming flesh. She felt her bumbags and hose being rolled back into place and her skirt being turned down. She hung upside down panting until Victoria gently helped her back to her feet.
Ellen Millar buttoned her tunic and replaced her hat on her head. She smoothed down her uniform and stood to attention. Her face was pale and her lips set in a tight line but she hadn’t howled and she hadn’t blubbed. Police Sergeant Ellen Millar was feeling quite proud of herself.
The Chief Constable approached her. “Consider yourself officially reprimanded Sergeant Millar,” he said not unpleasantly. “Perhaps we should order one of these spanking stools for the station house. It could save a lot of fuss and bother.”
Ellen Millar looked at him suspiciously. The Woody gals could see that she didn’t think that would be a good idea.
The police sergeant took her punishment with considerably better grace that Sally Cobb. The disgraced House Captain asked to be excused from the post spanking socializing, throwing a hateful look at Lady Vix and stomping out of the gymnasium. Lady Vix just chuckled and went back to the party. The police officers were clearly enamored with Woodyworld and mingled with the gals, laughing at anecdotes and having their pictures taken.
Ellen Millar quickly overcame her initial embarrassment and bonded with the inmates and laughing good-naturedly when her colleagues joshed about her double dangling.
It was midnight before Mr Humphries finally called a halt to the revelries and said goodbye to the guests. Claire and Melons were tasked with doing their best to settle the unit down for the night without having to hand out too many lickings.
Ellen Millar seemed to be having a good time despite the steam funneling out from under her skirt and volunteered to stay behind and help the inmates clean up the gymnasium. Penny Ann kept the bar open long into the night.
I hope you enjoyed the extract, if you want to learn more about the mega-minxes from the Woody Back to School Unit then cut along sharpish to the Woodettes Storefront and BUY THE BOOKS! … downloading for just $4.99 per full length book is the cheapest and most expedient way to get access to hundreds of pages of Woody fun … You won’t be disappointed … Bottoms Up! Thanks for stopping by … RH
Don’t Forget – Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page.
St Trinian’s Revisited
A huge thanks to all my guests who have visited the Woodettes Storefront and purchased full volumes of the first 5 books of the Woody Back to School Unit Saga. Obviously the cheapest and quickest way to purchase these full-length books is to click on the ‘Add Download to Cart’ icon and for just $4.99 you will have the book in a matter of seconds. Note that if you click on the book title it will take you to another page where you can preview the first 2 Chapters, however to buy a Download you need to navigate back to the Woodettes Storefront main page (I have no control over that feature … sorry folks).
Yesterdays post on the St Trinian’s Connection seems to have struck a chord and attracted a rather large amount of hits; so here’s a little more information.
My thanks to the owners of the Perpetua web-site who lovingly maintain a tribute to the brilliant artist and creator of St Trinian’s, Ronald Searle (there are 4 separate sections specifically featuring the St Trinian’s cartoons). To put Mr Searle’s brilliance into perspective he actually drew some of his original cartoons while incarcerated in the notorious and infamous Changi prison during the Second World War on stolen scraps of paper.
In this extract from an article that appeared in the Sunday Times on November 27, 2007, India Knight (great name) attempts to explain the enduring popularity of the St Trinian’s books and films.
“It is also the perfect expression of the enduring appeal of gaggles of girls. If you’re female, you want to be part of the gang. If you’re male, you want to sleep with half of it – but that’s not all: there is something about female camaraderie that appeals enormously to men, stuck as they are with the rather truncated (beer, sex, sport, jokes) male version. It is interesting that films that involve male friendships seldom involve the heroes actually achieving anything as a result of their intimacy: they defuse the bomb, win the girl, save the planet despite having friends, not because of it – though, more often than not, they’re friendless loners in the first place. Films about female friendships, on the other hand, use that camaraderie to illustrate the point that, provided you have your girl friends by your side, anything is possible. Men going to see St Trinian’s to check out the eye candy may be surprised to find themselves awed into timidity by it, because while there’s no denying that the girls look wonderful – and, yes, sexy – the film’s chief concern is celebrating grounded, powerful, self-knowing girls doing exactly as they please, palling up, and triumphing against the odds.
The school uniforms may look cutely retro; what’s going on underneath is anything but.”
My Beloved Jojo says that some of her favorite episodes in the Woody Back to School Unit saga are when the Woody Gals are pitted against dastardly foes such as the Confederacy of Yoofs, the malicious Melissa Forsham-Smythe, Dark Agents of the System, a variety of international anarchists and sundry other ne’er do well’s. The Woody Gals forget their differences as they join forces to repel their enemies and like the St Trinian’s girls invariably triumphing against the odds.
I rather liked the Searle cartoon featured below and thought that it would compliment today’s extract rather nicely. The extract from Volume 29 – Get Katie is set in the Chemistry laboratory at the Woody compound and features Ms MacAllister, aka The Dyke. The Dyke was born and bred in the Scottish Highlands and has an unfathomable brogue, hence some of the stranger use of dialogue in this piece but I’m sure that you’ll get the gist. For more on the Dyke see my earlier post ‘The Dyke, George W and Reverse Defenestration’. Enjoy.
Nixdown Nixon had been less than enamored to open her account although she grudgingly admitted that it had been unwise to engage in a dueling water pistol contest with Jojo, right under the beady eye of the Dyke.
“Penny Ann got the cane this morning,” Nix told Jojo as they hurriedly removed their skirts and bumbags in the changing rooms. “She’s very grumpy so that means she’ll be in the mood to give me a really good workout this evening, but she gets all wimpy on me when I pitch up with an already swollen arse,” she grumbled.
Jojo hung up her skirt and buttoned the front of her nylon lab-coat.
“I hate to point this out but you did start the duel,” she told her best chum.
Nixdown pouted. “I wasn’t even aiming at you,” she muttered. “I was aiming at Rosemary; she gave me a lughole full of h2o during the economics lecture.”
“Well perhaps you should spend some time on the target range,” replied Jojo, “now let’s stretch or we’ll be due for extra strokes.”
Ms MacAllister was looking dapper in a pearl grey three piece suit, tab-collared white shirt and silk tie. She was wearing a pair of white Scrooge McDuck spats over patent leather ankle boots. Phyllis MacAllister had a monocle screwed into her left eye and an eight inch bone and ivory cigarette holder clamped between her teeth. She held an eighteen-inch leather two-tailed tawse in her right hand. She watched intently as Jojo folded herself across the tall lab stool.
Jojo hooked her ankles around the legs of the stool. It made her calves stretch uncomfortably and her buttocks spread tightly. It was known as the ‘James Position’, named after the notorious muff Holler James.
Years earlier Ms MacAllister had been assiduously researching the perfect manner to tee-up her victims for punishment.
She was a personal advocate of defenestration, a technique practiced at her Highland school where the victim was required to lean out of a third floor window while the sash was lowered across their backs to discourage them from leaping to their deaths. Phyllis MacAllister had been disappointed when Ms Lawton had vetoed her proposition to introduce the practice at Woodys.
Phyllis had tried out many alternatives including bending the inmates over the front bench or requiring them to touch their toes. She never felt that she had them appropriately primed.
Helen James was deeply averse to being whopped. She was not a brave creature by nature and the prospect of bending over to be tawsed by the Dyke had caused her to immediately meltdown in convulsions of tearful blubbing. Unusually Ms MacAllister did not dispatch her to the changing rooms to relieve herself of her skirt and bumbags but instructed her to bend over the front bench without further ado. Helen took some coercing but was finally positioned with her lab-coat and skirt turned back. Her fellow inmates were treated to the sight of a pair of bumbags cut from enough material to provide curtains for a fair-sized picture window.
Right from the off it was destined to be a difficult affair. The Dyke stepped in and delivered a hot one, Helen responded by hollering and kicking back and catching the Dame under the knee with the heel of her shoe. A second slap of the tawse produced a repeat response. While Ms MacAllister hopped around rubbing her wounds Helen James leapt up and took refuge in the corner of the laboratory. The Dyke had a reputation as a persistent cove and sent an envoy to the Elite chamber to engage the assistance of two athletic prefects. They were tasked with dragging Helen back over the front bench and holding her down. Despite being restrained by the shoulders Helen managed to kick back for a third time causing Ms MacAllister to reconsider her strategy. Helen was dragged over to a tall lab-stool and forced over. With considerable difficulty the prefects secured her ankles and wrists to the chair legs with Bunsen-burner tubing. Her clothing was rearranged so that her only protection was the thin nylon seat of her lab-coat.
Somehow during the completion of the thrashing Helen’s feet managed to get intertwined around the chair legs. It had the effect of spreading out her voluminous posterior to the extent that the bottom button of her lab-coat failed and shot across the floor. Ms MacAllister concluded that she had finally discovered an appropriate alternative to defenestrating her victims.
The Dyke removed the jacket of her suit and placed it on a clothes hanger. She unscrewed her monocle and set her cigarette holder to one side. She poured herself a generous three fingers of Famous Grouse and swallowed it down. Having fortified herself satisfactorily she picked up the tawse and approached Jojo.
In her ascent to the rank of All-Time Big BUTT it had been inevitable that Joanna Heyworth would become acquainted with the full artillery of the Brass. On several previous occasions she had found herself assuming the James Position and presenting her behind for sessions with the Dyke’s tawse. She did not have fond memories of the experiences.
Phyllis MacAllister was old school. “Thees ees goona hoot yoo a fook seet more than it hoots ma!” she was fond of warning her victims before she proceeded to give them a leathering.
The tawse cracked down across Jojo’s spread buttocks, the two-tails landing a millisecond apart and scraping the hundreds of minuscule nylon waffle-weaves across her naked flesh. It was a most disagreeable sensation. Jojo gritted her teeth and gripped the legs of the stool. “It’s only whops, it’s only whops,” she repeated over and over in her head.
Phyllis MacAllister favored the Highland Swing technique that had been practiced by the prefects at her school. The first three strokes would be delivered forehand, concentrating the two-tails on the right buttock. She would then shift position and using a backhanded approach lash the tawse across the left cheek.
She knew from personal experience how effective the technique was. She could still remember many occasions when she was hanging out of the window of the Ice Chamber, three storeys up, her arms and hair dangling helplessly over the outer edge of the sill with her bared buttocks still inside the room, fearfully awaiting the arrival of the tongues, as the tails were known. Often it would be freezing cold and she would be bombarded by the harsh Scottish elements. The heavy weight of the sashed window lowered across her back made it impossible to move.
The Headgirl would finally step in, larruping her right buttock unmercifully and then step back. Phyllis could remember the strange sensations. Her hair and blouse soaked and freezing at one end, her right buttock burning ferociously and by contrast her left buttock still cool, at the other. It was a state of affairs which would always shortly be redressed.
Jojo hung panting over the stool. Her right buttock was throbbing alarmingly. Phyllis MacAllister was taking time-out to replenish and swiftly empty her glass. Once she felt adequately refortified she set herself up for the series of back-handers.
Jojo pushed herself up from the stool. There was no question that the Dyke did good work. Jojo crossed her arms in front of her chest and resisted the temptation to rub her seared rear.
Nixdown glowered at the Dyke before replacing Jojo across the stool. Phyllis appeared not to notice Nicola Jane’s hostile glare and calmly replenished her glass, albeit with a slightly smaller shot.
Under different circumstances Nicola Jane Nixon would have been the first to sign up for a good lashing with a two-tailed tawse. However, despite her predilection for pain in her private life Nix deplored the concept of formal punishment.
Unlike the majority of the inmates who subscribed to the ‘it’s only whops’ mantra Nix muttered a series of obscure hexes as the tawse lashed her arse. However, according to scholars on the subject, the Nixdown Mantras can generally be loosely translated as ‘Fuck you! Fuck you!’
As usual the Dyke added an extra touch of vim while she thrashed Nixdown. The Dyke was deeply aggrieved that Nix resolutely refused to extend her an invite to the late night trysts she hosted in the stables for Penny Ann Evans and Miss Suzy Scott. She had dropped many unsubtle hints but Nix claimed a moral high ground.
“It wouldn’t be right,” she told her chums, “It would be tantamount to sleeping with the enemy.”
“I had no choice,” Jojo told her fiancé over dinner at Monets. “Nixdown squirted me so I was duty bound to defend myself.”
The Grand Master smiled indulgently. “I quite understand the difficult situation you found yourself in,” he assured her. “But what on earth was Cassie thinking?”
“Apparently she was experimenting,” giggled Jojo.
Jojo and Nixdown were not the only one’s opening their accounts with a tawsing from the Dyke.
“Cassidywotthefookrudoin’?” rasped the Dyke.
Cassie giggled. “Nuffink, Ma’am. Just trying a little experiment.”
“Experiment? That’s a fookingboonsenburner you’re playing with.”
Cassie grinned. “I know what a Bunsen burner is Ma’am.”
“Weeeellwhatthefookareyoudoin’?” asked the Dyke incredulously.
“Experimenting Ma’am,” said Cassie patiently as if she was speaking to a slow child.
The Dyke scowled and bustled towards the lab bench where Cassie was working.
“Wotisthisstoof?” the Science Dame demanded. “Eetfookingstinks.”
“Tibetan yak fat,” said Cassie innocently. “I wanted to see what heat would turn it into crackling.”
The Dyke looked taken aback. “Yook foot? What the fookare yadoin’withyookfoot in ma looborootory?”
“I was worried it might smell,” Cassie explained, “and I didn’t want to stink up the kitchen.”
“Soooo it’s oookay to stink up ma loob?” growled the Dyke incredulously.
“It was an HSE decision,” said Cassie.
“HSfookingE?” barked the Dyke. “Well HSE your fooking oose to the changing rooms and I’ll shooow ya some HSfookingE decisions.”
“Oh,” said Cassie Cassy. “That doesn’t sound too environmentally friendly.”
“What the fuck were you doing with Tibetan yak fat?” laughed Jojo.
“The Bounder found a source,” said Cassie earnestly, “it’s very fucking rare.”
“I should imagine it is,” smiled Jojo.
Cassie Cassy was lying face down across Joanna’s lap. Jojo was tending her chum’s wounds with an aloe vera balm she had secured from Rosemary.
“I read in a magazine that it makes unbelievable crackling but when you first ignite it it fucking stinks,” Cassie explained, “so I didn’t want to try it in the kitchen.”
“But you thought the Dyke might not mind?” giggled Jojo.
“Well I underestimated what unpleasantly pungent might mean,” growled Cassie, “these writers ought to be more explicit. How was I supposed to know that it would smell like burnt car tyres?”
“So after this burnt car tyre smell?” asked Jojo. “This becomes some kind of aromatic delicacy?”
“I didn’t get a chance to find out,” complained Cassie, “Bitch Dyke threw my whole supply in the trash.”
“Just as an ‘oh by the way’,” said Jojo, “Who exactly were you planning on using as the Tibetan yak fat guinea pigs?”
“You guys of course,” replied Cassie. “I was going to serve it at Saturday nights feast.”
“Thank heavens for the Dyke,” giggled Jojo.
Bottoms Up! Thanks for stopping by … RH
Don’t Forget – Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page.
The St Trinian’s Connection
Ronald Searle was a post-war British cartoonist who created the anarchic world of St Trinian’s. His cartoons inspired books, films and inspired thousands of role-playing theme parties. There is even a legendary London club night called School Disco that celebrates ‘The Best Days of Your Life’ and practices a strict schoolie dress code.
St Trinian’s was the antithesis of the Enid Blyton/Angela Brazil-type posh girls’ boarding school; its pupils are wicked and often well-armed, and mayhem is rife. The mistresses (as female teachers in Britain were known at the time) are also disreputable. Cartoons often showed dead bodies of girls who had been murdered with pitchforks or succumbed to violent team sports, sometimes with vultures circling; girls drank, gambled, and smoked. Not unlike the inmates of the Woody Back to School Unit.
The films were quintessentially English and considered quite risqué in their time due to the fact that the Belles as they were known wore shockingly short skirts, barely covering their bumbags.
I have not seen the recent remake of the St Trinian’s movies but I doubt that it will compare favorably to the glorious films from the 1960’s. Some things just don’t translate to the modern age and Chavs, Emos and Geeks do not have the same liberated and flirtatious charm of the wildcats featured in the original books and films.
In the late 1990’s it was strongly rumored that a certain very famous girl-band would star in a remake. Although this never transpired these three famous ladies inspired characters for the Woody Back to School Unit.
Unfortunately neither the films nor the books feature the St Trinian gals getting their just desserts but considering when this body of work was created it is highly unlikely that the characters did not spend a considerable amount of time bending over in the Headmistresses office.
In today’s extract from the yet to be published Volume 30, Malicious Intentions, Cat Cassidy and her chum Melons display some decidedly St Trinian’s-like behavior and suffer the consequences.
Pauline Gascoigne was a tolerant soul. She was a doyen of the minx-friendly element of the Brass known as the Liberal Left. Nonetheless, her level of tolerance did not extend to members of the Old Gal contingent engaging in a water pistol duel in the middle of the lecture room.
Pauline had lowered the lights so she could show a slideshow presentation with regard to the growing influence of China and India on traditional leading international economies.
Cathryn was listening intently. Her degree was in International Business which she hoped to use to good effect as she helped expand her father’s successful record label into new markets. She was extremely miffed when her concentration was distracted when a stream of ice cold water hit her in the lug-hole.
Cathryn squinted through the darkness. There were only three other gals attending the lecture and there was no question that the culprit was Melanie who was leaning back in her chair with a grin on her face.
It was common practice amongst the inmates of the facility to attend lectures loaded for bear. Attacks with water pistols, pea-shooters and catapults were commonplace.
Her aim had been perfect. Cat was wearing her hair tied back in a scrunchy so the thin jet of cold water had made direct contact with her exposed ear. It was just the type of surprise that could make even a gal as cool as Cat a tad tetchy. Cathryn reached into her satchel and dabbed her ear with a Kleenex. She glared threateningly at her chum.
Melons second salvo was even more annoying than the first. It hit Cat on the side of her neck, just above the collar of her open necked black silk blouse. Melanie had fired off a longer stream and before Cathryn knew what was happening water was dripping down the inside of the blouse. Cat was livid.
Cat did her best to look attentive and not fidget as the water slipped down her spine. She reached into her satchel again for some more Kleenex. There wasn’t much she could do to dry herself but she ran the tissue across her neck. She took the opportunity to turn quickly and glare threateningly at her best chum.
Melons winked at her, then made a gun out of her fingers and pointed at Cat, before raising her fingers and blowing. Cat scowled before turning back to face the front of the room.
It took perfect timing. Cat watched Ms Gascoigne’s rhythm as she paused between slides to turn to the room and take questions. If there were none forthcoming she would click on her mouse and then turn back to the projector, mind-mapping the next phase of her seminar before speaking.
Cat surreptitiously reached own into her cowboy boot and extracted an original hot-pink plastic Pisrool derringer from her ankle holster. Although it only held three-quarters of a pint of water and lacked the range or power of the Star Trek Phaser Special that Melons was armed with it was ideally suited for the clandestine strike she was planning. She palmed the loaded pistol and crossed her arms so her weapon was hidden beneath her armpits. She waited until Ms Gascoigne had turned her back, cast a quick look over her shoulder and squeezed the trigger as hard as she could, emptying the reservoir. With only three feet separating them Melons had no time to react and the spray hit her full in the face and hair.
Ms Gascoigne turned around. “Oh good grief,” she muttered.
“Alright everybody,” she snapped. “Rise to your feet and place your hands on your heads.”
Melons stood up. Her hair was dripping wet. The Star Trek Phaser Special slid out of her lap and clattered onto the floor.
Ms Gascoigne approached Melons desk and leaned down to retrieve the pistol. “A smoking gun I believe Miss White,” she said wryly. “But I don’t believe that anybody would be silly enough to shoot themselves in the face, unless of course they were an American vice president.”
Cat thought fast. She had no intention of giving up the valuable pink derringer. While Pauline was distracted by Melons she reached down and rummaged in her satchel. She extracted a cheap back-up pistol that had little emotional value and tossed it on the desk with an audible thud. Ms Gascoigne rolled her eyes.
“Alright you two pistol-packing yahoos go and get changed into clobber, I intend to absolutely cream you,” she told the two Old Gals.
Cathryn sighed as she threaded her red and black striped tie around her neck. She did not feel the least bit acrimonious towards Melanie. She had been annoyed to have her concentration so rudely interrupted but she also understood that Melons might have been mildly bored by the subject matter of the lecture. Melanie was studying medicine and economics was just a minor supplementary course she had elected to take. In Cathryn’s opinion relieving boredom by dousing a chum with a lug-full of water was a legitimate course of action.
Not that she particularly cared for being the victim of an unprovoked dousing but she accepted it as a consequence of the lifestyle of mega-minxdom that she had helped to create.
She shrugged on her blazer and went next door.
“You ready to be creamed?” she asked cheerily.
“Sorry about this, sis,” said Melanie ruefully.
Cat just winked and slipped her arm through her best chum’s.
Cathryn Cassidy slid her upper torso across the lid of the desk. She was not a particularly tall gal, standing five feet six in her stockinged feet, but she had exceptionally long legs. She pushed herself up onto the balls of her feet and reached over the desk and gripped the legs on the far side as low as she could reach. She felt the hem of her skirt being turned back exposing her compact behind. She sighed and waited to be absolutely creamed.
Pauline Gascoigne flexed the cane between her hands. She was inordinately fond of Cat and had the utmost respect and admiration for the Old Gal. For years she had watched Cathryn rally the spirits of the inmates, many of whose freedom had been snatched from them under the most spurious of circumstances. Cat’s own sentence had been covertly commissioned by the government to distract the Great Unwashed from recent acts of fiscal buffoonery and had a sparked a nationwide ‘Free Cat’ campaign.
Cathryn had refused to be fazed or intimidated by her untoward circumstances and had responded by encouraging the inmates to embrace a lifestyle of mega-minxdom. She had led by example and ranked amongst the highest echelons of the All-Time Big BUTT (the Bottoms Up Table of Troublemakers).
Nonetheless Pauline was duty bound to set her feelings to one side. She tapped the cane down and then raised her arm in the air.
Melons watched with expert eyes. Pauline was landing each stroke with perfect precision and accuracy, the sound of the cane rebounding from Cathryn’s bumbags echoed around the room, but Cat didn’t move a muscle.
Melanie was not surprised. Her relationship with Cat dated back to their days together at Dartington Manor where they had schooled together. Cathryn was already displaying her subversive nature; although she did not so much disobey the rules as simply ignore them as if they did not exist.
Patty Hodge had secured a position at the institution as the Mistress of Discipline and Cathryn was her most frequent client. Melons, who was no slacker in the subversion department, often joined Cat on her excursions to the office of the cruel martinet. Cathryn’s languid disdain in her dealings with Patricia had earned Melanie’s lifelong admiration and inspired her to take even the toughest of lickings with the minimum of fuss.
Cat pushed herself up from the desk. She seemed completely unperturbed by the fact that she had just been beaten bandy as she stepped to one side to allow Melons to take her place. She retrieved her blazer and shrugged it on. Cat reached into her pocket and retrieved a cigarette and lighter.
Pauline Gascoigne didn’t say a word as Cat calmly held the flame to the tip.
Melanie White took her time getting herself into the required position. She was relatively short in stature, standing barely five-feet tall in stockinged feet. She had to rise up onto tip-toes to spread herself across the desk. Pauline meticulously folded back her skirt and rearranged the tail of her blouse.
In contrast to the mythical proportions of her mammary glands Melanie had a pert, button-like behind. Ms Gascoigne tapped the cane down and then unleashed a scorcher.
Melons had developed a pragmatic approach to the cane. Long before her association with Cat she had already established a respectable reputation as a very, very naughty gal. At preparatory school she had divided her time between standing in the corner and lying face down, arse up across the Headmistress’s knee having her bottom smacked.
Like many of the Woody inmates she came from quality bloodstock. Her father was an internationally renowned heart surgeon and her mother was a well-known hostess who hailed from a long line of blue bloods.
Melanie had inherited her father’s brains and her mother’s beauty. Despite her classroom delinquency she graduated top her year and was enrolled at the exclusive Dartington Manor where she would team up with Cat.
In many ways they were opposites. Cat had been brought up surrounded by laid-back jazz musicians and was already considered by the other pupils to be the icon of ultra-cool. Melanie, by contrast, was a wild and rambunctious hellion and was permanently in trouble with the dames and the prefects. Despite their personality differences the two girls were inseparable.
In the early days Melanie got the cane more often than Cat but that would change with the arrival of Patty Hodge at the school.
According to records held in the Ministry of Education Patty had already demonstrated her penchant for creating mischief and mayhem inside the bumbags of her wards. Each year since starting her teaching career she had featured amongst the top five administrators of corporal punishment in the nation, which was an admirable achievement considering that her counterparts were invariably Headmistresses.
At Dartington she saw a window of opportunity. She noticed that several of the dame’s were reticent to resort to the cane but were constantly complaining in the staff room about the pupil’s errant behavior. Patty offered to help them out. It wasn’t long before she was officially appointed as ‘Mistress of Discipline’, and the whop rate at Dartington increased at a giddying rate.
Patty disliked Cathryn, who she considered a subversive, and Melanie, who she deemed to be a delinquent. Their bumbags were the most endangered.
Cat and Melons defiantly refused to be daunted by Patty’s vicious regime and perfected the art of taking their thrashings without flinching. It was a skill that had stood them in good stead throughout their sentences at the Woody Back to School unit.
Melanie concentrated on keeping her breathing even and her backside steady. She had considerable respect for Pauline Gascoigne’s skill with the cane but she knew that a world class whopping was a partnership. Melons knew that in order for the beating to go off without any painful mishaps such as low riders or wraparounds she needed to stay teed up perfectly so the Dame had easy access to the sweet spot.
Pauline Gascoigne had tremendous respect for Melanie White’s ability to absorb a world class whopping without any fuss. Certainly her buttocks twitched as the effects of the cane worked their way under the flesh into the nerve endings of her gluteus maximus but she put it up and kept it up unwaveringly. Pauline sliced the cane through the air.
Melanie pushed herself up from the desk and smoothed down her skirt. She pulled on her blazer and reached into her breast pocket to extract her punishment record book.
None of the three women spoke while Pauline post-processed the beatings. They each understood that the punishment’s had been necessary and that the matter was now closed.
Melanie and Cat sipped wine in a Woody friendly bar in town.
“Well she certainly laid that on thick,” said Melons.
Cat smiled. “She does good work. I think I’ll call Mark, he’ll want to see the stripes.”
Melanie giggled. “I take it you won’t be coming back to the facility tonight.”
Cat winked and pulled out her cell-phone.
“He wants to meet us in the VIP bar over at Monets for oysters and champagne,” she told her chum. “We’ll drop you off at the facility later. Let’s cut along, the seats are more comfortable over there anyway.”
Melons swallowed down her drink. “Bottoms up to that, sis,” and slipped her arm in Cats.
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
Don’t Forget – Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page.
Another Spanking in the Stables
I’m not sure that this actually counts as a stable but the spanker certainly looks like a fully paid member of the Secret Sorority of Equestrian Spankers. From the determined look on her face she clearly takes her duties seriously and is showing considerable dedication to her work. Highly commendable! Judging by the formidable backswing she either considers that the young lady across her lap has been very, very naughty, or alternatively the recipient just enjoys being given a damn good spanking. Whoever knows in this wonderful world we inhabit?
I bring up Equestrian Spanking as I have noticed several well-respected sites have recently been posting pictures featuring backsides clad in form-fitting jodhpurs and RH wouldn’t like his guests to think that he didn’t still have his finger on the pulse while he is currently, unfortunately, otherwise engaged on vanilla business.
Bottoms Up! Thanks for stopping by … RH
Don’t Forget – Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page.
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