Debs is up to her Bumbags in Trouble Again

Running Benders are a highly specialized form of caning and requires considerable skill and concentration during delivery. Good examples are available in some of the videos available from Paul’s excellent and fascinating Spanking Facts and Research site featuring the convivially impish and minxish model Emma Brown.

A more mainstream example of the art of delivering running benders is featured in the caning scene in ‘If’, Lindsey Anderson’s iconoclastic and anarchic take on the British fee-paying school system; however, the relevant clip seems to have been deleted fom YouTube (just a note… even if you do find it elsewhere on the net this is male on male discipline scene and is merely referenced to demonstrate the technique).

In this extract, from the soon to be published Volume 14 – Whop Junkies, the hapless Debs Morton finds herself caught up in an innocuous situation that suddenly spirals out of control … kick back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH.

Deborah Morton picked up the tray full of metal drinking mugs and carried it across to the table where the Phase 6 inmates were preparing to eat lunch. She placed the tray on the table then one by one she picked up the mugs and slid them across the table to each of her friends. The gals caught the sliding mugs and began to pass around the water jug. Deborah picked up another mug and slid it across the table top towards Melissa Goldbhum. Missy was distracted and grabbed at the mug too late to stop it clattering to the floor. Debs grinned apologetically and went around to retrieve the mug.

“Sorry,” she giggled, “I’ll go and get you a clean one.”

When Deborah returned to the table with the new mug she noticed that Sally Cobb was standing by the Dames’ table talking to Ms Wharton. Debs handed Melissa her cup then went and sat down. She shot a glance at Sally and the Wart. She couldn’t help noticing that they kept looking in her direction.

“You know what Rosie?” Debs muttered. “I’ve got a feeling that bitch is going to give me a misconduct mark. Sheesh, it was a fucking accident.”

Rosemary pulled a face.

After a few moments Sally went over to talk to Rachel Cox, who was acting as Duty Monitor. She leaned over and whispered in Rachel Cox’s ear. Rachel walked across the cafeteria to the table where the Wart was seated. Deborah watched as the two prefects conferred with Ms Wharton. Rachel was shaking her head and seemed to be arguing with the Wart. Sally was watching with a self-satisfied grin on her face and seemed to be agreeing with everything the Dame was saying. A moment later Rachel approached the lunch table. Nobody in the hall was taking any notice of the little drama. The cafeteria was filled with the noisy hubbub of lunch.

Rachel looked embarrassed. She leaned forward and mouthed, “I’m so sorry Debs.”

Deborah shrugged. A misconduct mark wasn’t the end of the world. Unless of course it was her fifth, which would mean a dangling. Grumpily Deborah waited for Rachel to formalize the mark so that she could get on with eating her lunch.

Deborah couldn’t believe her eyes. Rachel Cox was reaching into her blazer pocket and bringing out a red card.

“You can’t be serious,” gasped Debs.

“Deadly serious,” whispered Rachel. “I’m sorry, there’s no point in arguing. She’s decided to make an example of you.”

Deborah gaped as the Deputy Red-shirt picked up a spoon and rapped it on the table. She felt her face turn crimson.

Rachel waited until the hall was silent and every gal was looking towards her. Slowly she raised the card in the air.

“Deborah Morton, Phase 6, red card. You’re out of here,” she announced in a loud voice. “Six strokes of the cane for inappropriate decorum. Step up to the library Morton; I’ll be along to beat you shortly.”

Despite her best attempts to feign indifference as she trudged through the dining hall Deborah felt ridiculous. Contrary to Nixdown’s persistent allegation that she purposefully stage-managed her flamboyant misfortunes to hog center stage Deborah felt humiliated as she headed towards the door. Without her blazer to partially disguise her full clobber she was acutely aware that she was the only senior gal in the room forced to wear a gymslip. She could feel every eye in the room following her as she threaded her way between the tables. She felt clumsy and awkward and her cheeks were still burning with embarrassment. Deborah Morton reached the door and hurried through.

Deborah stood outside the library waiting to be caned. Cautiously she took her right hand off her head and looked at her watch anxiously. She was due at a riding class in less than twenty minutes and if Rachel didn’t hurry she was going to be late. Deborah was keen to be on time for the lesson. The last time she had been late she had received six sizzlers with the riding crop.

Deborah looked at her watch again. Almost thirty minutes had passed since she had been chucked out of the cafeteria and Rachel had still not pitched up. The riding class was due to start in precisely fifteen minutes and unless the Deputy Red-shirt arrived in the next few minutes and beat her in double quick time Deborah was going to be late. She took her hands off her head and turned away from the wall. She hurried down the corridor towards the stairwell and listened for the sound of Rachel approaching but there was nothing. Deborah began to panic.

Rachel Cox was in no hurry. She oversaw the clearing up of the cafeteria, making sure the dishwashers were filled and the tabletops were wiped down. When the cafeteria was finally emptied she tucked her ashplant under her arm and set off to beat Deborah Morton up in the library.

Debs made a decision. She found a piece of paper and scrawled, “Rachel, Have had to go to a riding class. I will meet you here at 1.15. Deborah Morton, Phase 6.” After leaving the note prominently displayed on a table inside the library Debs dashed back into the corridor.

Deborah hurried down the stairs and out into the quadrangle. She was walking as fast as she could without actually running in any of the prohibited areas. Once she had crossed the quad and entered the recreation ground she broke into a run and headed for the Dorm House. She had nearly reached the entrance when she heard her name being called. Her heart sank at the unmistakable voice of the Wart. Slowly she stopped and turned around, watching helplessly as the Geography Dame approached.

“Well Morton, did she lay it on thick?” the Wart enquired gloatingly.

Deborah didn’t respond.

“Well did she?” snapped the Wart, “Did she lay it on thick or not?”

Deborah felt herself blushing. “Well not exactly Ma’am.”

The Wart squinted at her, “What do you mean not exactly?”

“Well, we haven’t exactly got to that part yet. But I’m sure she will Ma’am,” spluttered Debs, “Lay it on thick that is. Now if you’ll excuse me Ma’am I have to get to my riding class.” Debs shuffled backwards in the direction of the door.

“Stand still gal! Are you telling me you bolted?” demanded the Dame.

“No Ma’am. Absolutely not. Not bolted. I left a note, rescheduling the thrashing until after my class,” Deborah explained.

Rachel Cox read the note that Deborah had left for her and smiled to herself. She couldn’t blame Debs for cutting along to the riding class. Ms Lummell was notorious for dealing with latecomers with extreme prejudice. Rachel couldn’t blame a gal for protecting her bumbags. She was just turning to leave the library when she heard a commotion from outside. She crossed to the window and peered out.

“Oh my giddy aunt,” she muttered in amazement.

“PREFECT! I NEED A PREFECT,” Ms Wharton bellowed. “I NEED A PRE OVER HERE SHARPISH!”

From across the recreation ground, Susan Holmes, the duty prefect hurried over.

“Collar this gal and bring her to the library!” Ms Wharton ordered.

“Collar her?” Susan gasped, “But Ma’am I’m not allowed to collar her.”

Ms Wharton’s face grew angry. “I said collar her,” she growled, “now collar her or else I’ll have you flogged for insubordination.”

Deborah Morton felt herself beginning to blush again. The clatter and chatter of the recreation area was beginning to die down and the rest of the inmates were starting to stare over at the activity outside the Dorm House.

As she was hustled through the quadrangle Deborah Morton felt her face turn crimson. Even though Susan Holmes was doing her best to go easy on her, holding her arm behind her back as lightly as possible and just resting her fingers on the collar of her blouse, the ignominy of being publicly collared was overwhelming. Debs eyes burned with tears of resentment as she was jostled passed her astonished chums.

The Wart strode along beside Debs and the duty prefect maintaining her usual snide and spiteful commentary. They entered the main wing and headed for the stairwell. It was extremely difficult to mount the stairs under a full collar but the Wart forbade the prefect to release Deborah. It took several minutes before they finally entered the landing that housed the library.

Rachel threw Deborah a sympathetic glance as she was hustled through the door. Once inside the room Susan was finally allowed to release her charge. Deborah rubbed her left arm to try and get some life back into it and pulled at the collar of her blouse so that she could breathe.

Rachel gaped at Ms Wharton. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she told the Dame. “She really hasn’t done anything.”

The Wart fixed Rachel with a gimlet stare with her dark, beady eyes. “What did you just say?” she demanded. “Did you call me ridiculous?”

“I just think that a twelve stroke running bender is a little extreme. Perhaps we should take this up with the Grand Master?”

Rachel Cox and Deborah Morton were tight. They had known each other for almost a decade and a half. Rachel was a year older than Deborah and when the young Debs first started playing in national tournaments Rachel was the player she aspired to emulate. During the under-fourteen national championship final Rachel finally succumbed to Deborah’s precocious talent. However, despite their competitiveness they became friends and often shared hotel rooms when they turned professional and they won many doubles competitions together.

When the Dark Agents of the System began sniffing around for new celebrity blood to divert attention from government incompetence Debs and Rachel were ideal candidates. The two young women were rich and famous and showed a liking for the high life. Extreme Ladetting charges were easy to fabricate.

The Lawn Tennis Association was opposed to losing its two top players and secretly brokered a deal. Rachel would be the sacrificial lamb so that Debs would be available to lead the national squad in the upcoming European championships.

Debs’ own freedom was short-lived. She was arrested in Las Vegas for under-age drinking and gambling. Despite the protestations of the Lawn Tennis Association the bounty on the head of a celebrity of Deborah’s stature was to tempting for Melissa Forsham-Smythe’s goons to resist.

Reunited with Rachel at the Woody Back to School unit the two chums established a rigorous training schedule. They competed in many amateur competitions and both dreamed that they would eventually return to the Grand Prix circuit when they completed their sentences.

When Rachel was elevated to the Elite and appointed as Lady Victoria’s deputy the chums had made an agreement. Rachel would treat her chum like any other member of the community. Debs had promised that she would do her best not to put Rachel in the uncomfortable position of being forced to beat her.

Unusually Deborah, who had an appalling record for rubbishing pre’s, had been good to her word and had not required a single beating from the Deputy Red-shirt.

The Wart thrust her face into Rachel’s. “This has nothing to do with the Grand Master,” she snapped, “this is routine business and I’m instructing you to beat Morton.”

Rachel did her best to return the Wart’s stare. “And I’m refusing,” she said evenly.

The Wart looked nonplussed. “This is insurrection,” she spluttered. “I will have you publicly flogged.”

Rachel continued to hold the Wart’s stare. “So be it,” she said.

The Wart turned around and glared at Deborah. “And don’t think you’re getting away with this. I’ll take you up to Ms Hodge, she’ll be happy to thrash the living daylights out of you.”

Debs had been watching the drama unfold. When she was finally hustled into the library the Wart had torn into her, accusing her of throwing the mug at Melissa. Debs had tried to defend herself but the Wart had shouted over her protests.

The Wart was on a roll, she had told Rachel that the ashplant was unsuitable for beating Deborah and dispatched Susan Holmes to fetch a long, thicker cane from the lecture room.

“You’re fully certified to give running benders,” the Wart had told Rachel. “I want you to give Morton the hottest running bender ever. I want you to give her six for misbehaving in the cafeteria and then I want to give her six more for bolting.”

Deborah weighed up the situation. She knew that she was being stitched up like a kipper. She doubted that the Grand Master would side with the Wart and flog Rachel. Nonetheless, she was also aware that Rachel Cox had never previously received a public flogging and Debs was loathe to subject her chum to even the outside risk.

Deborah sighed. She was going to be beaten no matter what, the Wart would see to that. She shrugged off her blazer and placed it on a side-table.

“Come on Raitch,” she said tightly. “Let’s get this over with.” Deborah Morton strode down the library until she reached the fireplace. She bent forward at the waist and waited to be caned.

Rachel Cox glared at the Wart. She had removed her blazer and rolled up her sleeves. Rachel unfastened the top button of her blouse and loosened her tie. She picked up the senior cane and hefted it to familiarize herself with its weight and length.

At the far end of the library Debs was bent forward with the skirt of her gymslip turned back. The toe touching position was universally despised by the inmates but Debs’ superb athleticism allowed her to reach down and place her palms flat on the floor.

Rachel took a deep breath. She knew that she had been played like a fish by the conniving Wart, but now she had no choice but to make sure everything went off without incident. She got into the start position and set off down the library.

The sound of the senior cane ricocheting off Deborah Morton’s bumbags echoed around the library like a rifle shot. It was an absolute screamer of a swipe and it had almost caused Deborah to tumble forward. Rachel Cox turned around and made her way back down the library.

Rachel Cox hung the senior cane low and sprinted up the library. With perfect timing she raised the stick in the air and sliced it across Deborah’s defenseless behind. It was another power swipe and the ferocity of its bite knocked the breath out of her luckless victim.

Rachel shot a glance at the Wart. The Dame was watching the beating with a smug grin on her face.

After six swipes Rachel took a breather. She looked over at the Wart, who was still grinning smarmily. She looked down the length of the library to where Deborah remained in her ignominious stoop. She felt sorry for Debs. The Wart was watching her like a hawk.

The toe-touching protocols dictated that throughout the beating the gal’s fingers should never leave the tips of her shoes. If she jerked up the stroke could be called foul and repeated. In general the protocol was rarely invoked as long as the recipient of the thrashing quickly reestablished the correct position. The exception was the Wart who used the protocol to her evil advantage, causing the Woody wags to quip, “When is six not six? When six is being counted by the Wart.”

Deborah gritted her teeth. She forced herself to put it up and keep it up to give Rachel the fullest target. She heard Rachel’s feet picking up speed and braced herself.

The Wart was grinning wolfishly as she oversaw the post-processing of the double beating. She looked forward to a night in the Bunch of Grapes where she would gloatingly regale her cronies with a blow by blow account of the thrashing. Her associates on the Radical Right were bound to be impressed. The Wart loved it when a plan came together.

Deborah’s backside was throbbing like a police beacon and her heart was pounding uncomfortably. She undressed as quickly as possible and grabbed her riding togs from the closet. She looked at her watch and groaned. The riding class had already started. Deborah had an uncomfortable premonition that her poor beleaguered bum might not yet have completed its tour of active duty for the day.

Deborah trudged across the quadrangle towards the stables with a heavy tread. Her backside was throbbing incessantly and she dreaded her upcoming confrontation with Ms Lummell.

Jane Lummell was a popular member of the Brass. She oversaw physical education and coached the unit’s acclaimed equestrian team. Ms Lummell was aligned with the Dames on the Liberal Left of the Brass but she was no pushover. She had high standards and expected one hundred per cent effort from the inmates. Expectations that she reinforced with the application of either a large over-sized plimsoll, or the gal’s own riding crops, whenever she felt they were slacking or goofing off.

Deborah and Jane Lummell were tight. Although the Physical Education Dame was not a particularly gifted tennis player she had offered her services to Debs to help her maintain her training regime. Most mornings she rose at dawn and joined Deborah on her long runs around the grounds.

Debs knew from painful experience that Jane Lummell was notoriously fickle when it came to tardy timekeeping. She just hoped that she would be given the opportunity to explain her delay.

Deborah Morton shuddered as the fearful impact ricocheted across the stripes that Rachel Cox had produced with the senior cane just forty minutes earlier. Debs had desperately tried to explain to the riding instructor that the reason she was late was that she had been sent up to the library to be beaten and that Rachel had taken ages to arrive and after that things had got all fucked up.

However, Ms Lummell was in no mood for explanations and grabbed Deborah by the wrist and led her towards a convenient bale of hay.

Deborah continued to protest as she was dragged across the stable but it was becoming clear to her that her objections were falling on stony ground. The Dame parked herself on the bale of hay and glared up at Deborah. Gloomily Debs reached under her riding jacket and unfastened the side buttons of her jodhpurs before unwillingly draping herself across the Dame’s lap. With her backside still burning from the ferocious running bender that Rachel had given her Deborah Morton rather fancied the upcoming few minutes were going to be unpleasant.

“That was fucking unfair,” growled Nixdown. “I told her that you were going to be late. I can’t fucking believe she thrashed you.” Even Nicola Jane was outraged at Ms Lummell’s treatment of Debs. She put her arm around her chum. “Are you okay,” she enquired worriedly.

“I’ll live,” said Debs through gritted teeth, “but it feels like I won’t sit down for a week.”

If you have enjoyed the complimentary edition of Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber available in the side-bar and 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.