A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 5

Today I continue my Life in the Day writing experiment. I have posted Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 and Part 4 in the Seven days of Woodys side bar … kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 5

When we get to the Science laboratory I pull on my white lab coat and gingerly lower my sore sitmedown onto the wooden stool. I lay out my books and wait for the arrival of the Dyke. I have once again seated myself in a strategically advantageous position behind Nixdown.

Over the years I have become remarkably good at pain management and I have learned not to allow a sore and throbbing bum distract me from my studies. I have also learned not to allow the prospect of an even sorer bum from deterring me from reaping righteous revenge. If the opportunity arises I fully intend to bean Nixdown and even the score regardless of the consequences.

Ms MacAllister breezes into the lab in all her sartorial glory. It has to be said that Phyllis MacAllister is a thoroughly queer duck by any standards. She is an avid fan of Big Bands from the swing era and has an outstanding collection of 78’s by the likes of Benny Goodman and Glenn Millar. She dresses in men’s tailored three piece suits, complete with collar and tie and wears Duck McScrooge spats. She sometimes sports a monocle and is rarely seen without an extended cigarette holder clenched between her teeth. When she goes out on the town in the evening she dons a flowing black cape and a top-hat. She cuts a swathe that is a curious cross between Marlene Dietrich and Vita Sackville-West. However, for all her idiosyncrasies she is a fabulous educator. Before she was recruited to the Brass at the facility she was an internationally renowned academic and a lecturer at Camford.

Ms MacAllister was born in the Highlands of Scotland and has never lost her thick brogue. This makes her a tad hard to follow when she speaks but she compliments her lectures with stunning visual aids. At school I always found chemistry and physics to be a chore and really had to push myself to maintain my grades. Since I’ve been banged up at the facility Phyllis has given me a new appreciation of the sciences and I actually look forward to her lectures.

Before starting the lecture she pours herself a healthy shot of Famous Grouse. My chums and I are quiet and demure while we wait for the lecture to commence. Our uncharacteristic good behavior is prompted by the two-tailed tawse, known as Big Bertha, which hangs from a hook at the front of the lecture room.

Ms MacAllister is fond of sharing the provenance of this bad boy with us. It was cut from harness leather by a craftsman from the Dick family of Lochgelly who have specialized in the production of tawses for a century and a half.

Ms MacAllister is fond of regaling us with tales of her school-days in the Highlands. The school she attended was strict and puritanical. According to Phyllis every morning a gal was selected at random and given six hearty strokes of the tawse to remind her fellow pupils what would happen to them if they miss-behaved! Fortunately she has not elected to introduce this unpleasant ritual at the facility as in my personal opinion our bumbags are endangered enough without the introduction of random whops.

Another tradition she is fond of recalling involves being ‘sent to the Ice Chamber’. Apparently when gals did actually misbehave they were dispatched to a cold, dank room on the third floor of the school to wait for the Head Prefect. According to Phyllis it was so cold they had to run on the spot to stop their blood from freezing.

Once the head prefect arrived the gals were required to hand over their bumbags and the ornate crested pins that secured their Stewart Tartan Billie kilts above the left knee which would be confiscated for twenty-four hours. Having handed over these items the gals were then required to lean out through the third floor window which would then be lowered across their backs to stop them from defenestrating while they were being whupped with the tawse. The Highlands are harsh and inclement and while her bum was being warmed the luckless soul was also subjected to being soaked by rain, snow and hail. They would be forced to spend the next twenty-four hours constantly clapping their hands to their thighs to hold their kilts in place to avoid the embarrassment of full frontal exposure. Those were the days!

Over the years my bumbags have been bombarded by a wide assortment of canes, straps, slippers and quite a few kitchen utensils. My poor beleaguered bum has also been bombarded by Big Bertha on several occasions and I can assure you it is a most disagreeable experience.

Phyllis MacAllister sets high standards. She spends considerable time and effort in preparing her lecture material and does not appreciate her efforts going to waste. She is an ultra-strict disciplinarian.

That being said she is not a be-yotch like Patty Hodge or the Wart. In fact she is more aligned with the Liberal Left than the heinous Radical Right. She just does not tolerate even the most minor goofing, gabbing, larking or pranking. We know the rules of conflict and god bless our bumbags if we ignore them.

Actually it is not our bumbags that feel the effects of the tawse. If we are foolish enough to incur her wrath we are dispatched to the changing rooms to remove our skirts and bumbags. We will be thrashed across the seat of our nylon overalls. This may sound irrelevant but there is a twist. The overall are made from some form of waffle-weave material and when the tawse explodes across your rear end it scrapes the weave across your naked flesh in a most disconcerting manner. This is what I am risking if I proceed with my plan to get my own back on Miss Nixdown Nixon.

To be continued …

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

Stunning New Woody Toon 22 – Thrashed into the Elite

Today’s Toon features our heroines from the ‘Famous Four’ participating in a painful Woody ritual. When the inmates of the Woody Back to School Unit enter the final year of their seven year sentences without the possibility of parole they are promoted to a prefectorial corps known as the Elite. Traditionally before taking office they are taken to the gymnasium where they will be ‘Thrashed into the Elite’.

I think you’ll all agree that Dave Ell has really excelled himself with his magnificent and atmospheric interpretation of this ritual. My apologies for the short post but I continue to be busy vacationing so I have to run … so feel free to have a good rummage around the site … there’s lots to read and see.

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

 

 

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

Normal operations will resume shortly … those of you in the States continue to enjoy the holiday … Bottoms Up! … RH

Brand Spanking New Woody Toon 21 – Katie’s Comeuppance

An austere government correctional institution like the Woody Back to School Unit will always have its share of heroines and villains. Katie Beck, who acts as matron at the facility falls firmly into the latter category. She is a classic Whop Junkie and as you can see a Be-yotch first-class. But even the biggest Be-yotch’s can suffer their comeuppance.

One of the most detested rituals at the unit is the bum-inspection process that the inmates are subjected to when they are sent up to the principal’s office for whops. Ostensibly this process was instituted to make sure that a gal’s rear end is in suitable condition to receive a bare bender with the senior cane. Predictably Katie Beck abuses the loathsome process by pinching and poking the unfortunate inmate’s rear ends, very often adding a few hearty spanks just for shits and giggles. In today’s magnificent rendition by the illustrator Dave Ell Mr Humphries catches Katie in the act and demonstrates his displeasure in true Woody style.

We are still on vacation doing great family stuff so I’ll just invite you to please feel free to have a good rummage around the place and familiarize yourself with the many characters that populate the Woody Community … there’s plenty to see and read.

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

Normal operations will resume shortly … so until then kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

The Complete ‘Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber’ Available Free in PDF Format

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you wherever you are in the world. My Beloved Jojo and I are currently away from the Unit and enjoying a family celebration with the usual surfeit of hearty food and fine wine. Terribly over-indulgent I admit, but nonetheless Thanksgiving is an American tradition that I heartily endorse.

For our guests convenience I have updated this link to the Complimentary Edition of Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber so it can be quickly downloaded as a complete PDF file … it is much more eco-friendly if you print it in ‘Landscape‘ format with the ‘Two-pages-to the Sheet’ setting for your particular printer if it’s available … (Please accept my apologies for any inconvenience caused to my UK guests as the book is currently formatted for ‘US Letter’ and not ‘A4′ printing, as all my books are currently published in the US …  but hey … it is totally free!).

Anyway why don’t you run it off and then find a few quiet moments over the holiday season to kick-back and enjoy … Once again I wish y’all a Happy Thanksgiving with your family and friends … Bottoms Up! … RH

Two Previously Un-Published Woody Toon Panels – Spot the Difference

RH and My Beloved Jojo are in the throes of departing on a much-deserved family vacation. I‘m not sure what my Wi-Fi/internet capabilities will be so I may have to take a short technology-enforced sabbatical from the Unit. We do have two brand new Toons under commission from Dave Ell and these both promise to be absolute scorchers! They may be ready for the weekend but we’ll just have to see.

When these two Toon’s were actually published as part of Woody Toon 11 – Dangled in the Library they were re-edited … Let’s see if you can spot the difference … lol!

For those guests who have only recently discovered the Woody Back to School Unit a hearty welcome … while I’m away please feel free to have a good rummage around the place and familiarize yourself with the many characters that populate the Woody Community … there’s plenty to see and read.

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

Normal operations will resume shortly … so until then kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

The Famous Four Aftermath Toon and A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 4

Today I continue my ’Life in the Day of …’ writing experiment. I have posted Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 in the Seven Days of Woody Posts side bar … kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 4

Well it had to happen to someone. It’s a rare day that the Famous Four makes it through twenty-four hours without one or the other of us getting caned or having our bottoms whapped with one of the multitudinous instruments of torture employed by the Brass.

Unfortunately it was my turn for my number to come up on the wheel of misfortune. I can’t even blame Nixdown. This was entirely down to Madame Diderot’s notorious lack of humor and my innate inability to engage my brain before wagging my tongue.

Madame is prone to making sweeping statements regarding the prowess of the French as a military force. She was making yet another outrageous claim to this effect when it occurred to me that I had recently read a quote from a former US Undersecretary of Defense who observed that, ‘Going to war without France is like going deer hunting without an accordion’. Quite reasonably in my opinion I felt compelled to share this with Madame.

Now personally I don’t think that there should be anything wrong with interjecting an attributable quotation from an esteemed diplomat into the proceedings. Clearly Madame did not share my logical line of thinking. Before I had a chance to take defensive action she had barreled down upon me and was reaching her long bony hand across my desk. She takes a hold on my tie and yanks me to my feet in a most disagreeable manner.

She drags me across the desk until my face is inches from hers and starts to scream at me. There is nothing I can do as I am in severe danger of choking.

Madame is an extraordinary scholar and is generally wonderfully articulate but when she loses it she reverts to some form of guttural Parisian slang that is indecipherable. I speak French pretty fluently but I have difficulty following exactly what she is saying. Nonetheless you wouldn’t need to be Einstein to get the gist.

Despite the fact I am gasping for breath I desperately try to recoil. It is no secret that Madame is partial to a drop or two of absinthe and she chains smoke un-filtered Gauloises. Her breath is over-bearingly toxic. It does not help that she douses herself in some form of cheap bordello perfume more usually favored by the working girls on the la Rue Saint-Denis. Despite my best efforts she reels me in like a fish and continues to rant and rave.

Quite suddenly she releases her grip on my tie and reaches back and grabs me behind my neck. I am already off-balance so she has no difficulty in slamming me chest downwards across the wooden desk.

Now conventional wisdom may be that the perfect six of the best will take five minutes from beginning to end, but unlike the other Dames Madame has no time for elaborate set-ups or rituals, she doesn’t even get us to remove our blazers. She just flips back our skirts, tees us up and starts blazing away!

It was all over in seconds. Six hearty swipes that nearly raised me out of my shoes and if she hadn’t had a tight hold on the back of my neck I might have tumbled forward. She doesn’t waste any time with release commands either, she yanks me back up and shoves me out into the aisle. She jabs me in the back with the tip of her cane and instructs me to hurry. I totter forwards towards the front of the room like a drunken sailor on shore-leave.

I hand over my little Punishment Record Book which I am obliged to keep in the breast pocket of my blazer at all times. While she starts making her annotations I am aware of some extremely disturbing activity going on inside my bumbags. When you get a conventional caning with thirty seconds between each delivery every stroke has the opportunity to work its way through its cycle. First the flesh burn, then the electrifying sensation of the pain ricocheting around your central nervous system like a pinball, and finally the slow under-burn as it works its way into your muscles. Madame’s unconventional Speedy Gonzalez technique has a very different effect.

As I wait for her to record my beating in both my PRB and on her laptop the stripes on my poor beleaguered bum are still working through their cycles and my buttocks are twitching as the pain is now hitting the gluteus maximus muscles in a most disagreeable manner. She hands me my book and snaps at me to go and sit down and keep my lip buttoned.

I wriggle back to my desk and gingerly lower myself onto the hard wooden seat. I try to find a position that does not put excessive pressure on the stripes and try to concentrate of her discussion on the life and works of Proust.

I now have a major dilemma. I still owe Nixdown pay-back for her earlier sneaky catapult attack. If I don’t reap my revenge she will continue to gloat like a cat that has got the cream but I am now seriously disadvantaged. Goofing, larking and pranking is a risky business at the best of times but it is double risky when you’re sporting half a dozen fresh stripes in your bumbags. I shall have to shape my strategy accordingly.

The lecture progresses without further incident and when the bell rings I grab Rosemary and solicit her immediate assistance. We have a twenty-minute break so we just about have time to repair to our study for some much needed ministrations.

Despite her unconventional technique Madame Diderot is quite skilled with the cane. She never miss-hits, and rarely gives painful low riders or wraparounds. The pain in my bum is all focused on the fleshiest area which we call the sweet spot. Nonetheless, walking quickly is quite uncomfortable and as I climb the stairs I can’t help wincing as I get shooting pains as the flesh stretches the stripes.

Upstairs Rosemary collects a pot of aloe-vera and mint balm that she has concocted. She sits down on the small sofa and I stretch out face down across her lap. Very gently she turns back my skirt and peals my bumbags away from the weals. She whistles. “Whoa, good work,” she mutters, “very tight formation.” I feel her running her finger along the stripes, kneading the soothing balm into the throbbing weals.

Jojo and Nixdown stop by to inspect the damage. Now in some strata’s of society I suspect it might seem a tad queer to be stretched out across your best chums lap with your bare bum exposed to the elements while two more of your chums stare down and casually discuss the state of your arse. However in the world we inhabit this is a quite normal routine. I have had my bum inspected so many times I no longer feel even the slightest twinge of self-consciousness.

“What a be-yotch,” says Nixdown sympathetically. “It’s hardly sporting to whop a gal for making a direct quotation.”

“My thoughts exactly,” I grunt.

“Still, they all landed in the safe zone,” Jojo says knowledgeably as she leans over to inspect the weals.

I suppose I should be thankful for small mercies. The warning bell rings so I push myself up and rearrange my clobber.

“We’d better cut along sharpish,” says Jojo, “we don’t want to be late for the Dyke.”

“Certainly not in these bumbags,” I manage to joke weakly.

To be continued …

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

Original Woody Toon – The Rosemary Collection

I have updated the complete Woody Toon Collection slideshow in the sidebar. I have also added a new selection called The Famous Four Collection which features some of my favorite panels starring each of the four heroines from the Woody Back to School Unit saga.

Although the saga features a huge cast of characters the core to the stories have always been centered around the adventures and misadventures of Jojo, Debs, Nixdown and Rosemary. Today’s toon features Miss Rosemary Booker.

Of the four central characters Rosemary is the most fictionalized. I have strong models and points of reference for the other three. Jojo is, of course, based upon my wife and muse and she has had considerable input into creating her fictional alter-ego. Nicola Jane Nixon, aka, Nixdown, is based upon an old friend who also collaborated on developing the personality of Nix in the stories. Debs is based on my friend’s sister Debbie. It was after I overheard her being spanked that I was first inspired to start writing spanking stories.

Rosemary is largely a figment of my imagination. For the Toons we loosely based her ‘look’ on the prominent model from the Janus days who appeared under the names Lindy and Penny.

She takes her name, the Rosemary part at least, from a young lady I once worked with. I was consulting to a large government contractor in London and Rosemary was assigned to my team as project secretary. She was an extremely amiable and jolly soul and exceptionally good at her job. Unfortunately she was a serially tardy-timekeeper. In those days we had to clock in at the gate so her late appearances were hard to disguise and at least once or twice a week she was hauled up before a particularly odious and autocratic HR Director and ‘written-up’. I was regularly called up to the HR office and told to fire or suspend her. I had no intention of doing either, besides if I had acceded to their whims I would probably have been lynched.

We had a lot of draftsmen on the boards and they were very fond of Rosemary. Not only did she have a sunny personality but she also had another prominent asset, her spectacularly shaped rear end. We were not dominated by politically correct behavior in those days and when she walked through the drawing office she was greeted by wolf-whistles and bawdy comments; all of which she took in good part. She was considered a treasure so firing her was out of the question. After one of my many forays to the HR office to listen to the director’s bureaucratic pontifications I joked with her that maybe a damn good spanking would cure her of her problem with punctuality. She just beamed cheerfully and chuckled. We could talk to each other like that back in the day!

Rosemary’s character in the stories just kind of evolved and beneath the toon I have posted a brief extract from Volume 22 – The Man from Berlin which gives a little background to the character that has developed.

Just a note about the Toon collections, they are Powerpoint slideshows and may be a little slow to download. However I think you’ll find it worth a couple of minutes as I think when they are all put together the Toon’s look rather splendid. To view them in full-screen mode just press the F5 key and use page down to scroll through them.

I shall be back later with Part 4 of the Life in the Day of Debs Morton series which is proving to be quite successful judging by the amount of views … in the meantime it’s Sunday so time for some mimosa’s and Bloody Mary’s … kick back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH.

 

 

Rosemary Bookers distinctive derriere had first come to prominence when she was cast as Bottom the Weaver in an all-girl production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. A local newshound who attended the production had dubbed her the ‘Rear of the Year’ and within days Miss Bookers bum was a national obsession.

At the time Rosemary was struggling to establish her ‘Bookers Balms’ business on the internet and any free publicity came in handy. Shrewdly she flashed her luscious orbs at every opportunity, posing for several calendars and signing a lucrative endorsement agreement with a fashionable jeans designer. Her fan-base bought her balms like hot cakes and within months she was up to her lugs in lolly.

Rosemary’s jolly demeanor and fabulous rear end made her a popular guest on morning chat-shows where she would cheerfully bend over for the cameras and display the logo ‘Bookers Bum’ across the seat of her jeans.

Young, rich and cheerful, Rosemary was a staple diet for the gossip rags. Her successful on-line company attracted the attention of the Forsham-Smythe Empire who specialized in fiscal intimidation and financial skullduggery. The crooked lawyer, Mr Armanisuit was dispatched to tempt her to sell-out in exchange for a wheel-barrow loaded with quids. However, Rosemary was alarmed to discover that the Forsham-Smythe’s planned to reduce her strict quality control procedures and flood the third-world market with bogus balms. She rejected the offer and sent Armanisuit off with a flea in his ear. Melissa Forsham-Smythe was furious.

Rosemary’s was voted as ‘Young Internet Entrepreneur of the Year,’ for her innovative environmentally friendly, low-cost, high quality range of products. At the awards ceremony she agreed to put her famous behind to charitable use and participated in a televised sponsored spanking that raised squillions for the under-privileged.

Thwarted in her efforts to purloin Rosemary’s business Melissa mobilized her Dark Agents to lurk in the shadows and keep her under ob’s twenty-four-seven. However, despite her gregarious public persona Rosemary was a quiet soul and generally avoided the party scene. Melissa wrang her hands and gnashed her teeth.

Following the very public arrest of Debs Morton on the center court of Wimbledon, Rosemary appeared on a popular chat show and described the anti-Ladette laws as ‘just plain daft’. At the time the media arm of the Forsham-Smythe Empire had embarked on a scurrilous anti-Debs campaign at the behest of the embattled government. As usual the politico’s had indulged in acts of fiscal folly and needed to distract the Great Unwashed. In an act of malice Melissa personally authored a series of editorials falsely accusing Rosemary of supporting Deborah, who her newspapers had taken to calling ‘the face of National disgrace’.

The Great Unwashed are a fickle bunch and demanded an enquiry. Rosemary received a summons to appear before a hearing of the System to explain her position. Her lawyers assured her that it was a mere formality.

On the morning of the hearing Rosemary over-slept and was awoken by the sound of Dark Agents kicking down the door of her apartment. She was dragged out of bed and handcuffed. She was hauled down the street in her pajamas with Melissa’s camera-men snapping away. She was charged with bringing the System into disrepute and dragged off to a local haberdasher to be fitted for clobber.

Melissa Forsham-Smythe purchased Bookers Balms at an unadvertised auction for three bob on the quid.

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

Woodys Hits 150,000 and A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 3

Astonishingly at 12:33 this lunch-time the visitor counter at the Woody Back to School Unit moved passed 150,000. I would like to take this opportunity to thank everybody who has visited the site and also everybody in the blogging community who has been kind enough to add links to the Unit.

Today I continue my Day in the Life writing experiment. I have posted Part 1 and Part 2 in the ‘Seven Days of Woodys’ sidebar … its Saturday, time for a cold Heineken, so kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 3

Momentarily my heart misses a beat as Ms Gascoigne spins around and glares at us. “If I catch any of you causing a distraction I shall feel compelled to beat you,” she says in a mildly threatening tone.

You can’t say fairer than that. I glare at Nixdown. She smirks and winks at me. Earlier in the morning she had launched a tightly constructed pellet with her catapult and caught me painfully on my bare thigh. She clearly thinks that she is one up on me. I am fuming and badly want revenge, but I need to be very wary. The last thing that I want is another beating from Pauline.

We may be tight but that won’t stop her from bending me over my desk and absolutely creaming me if she thinks I need it. Only last week she gave me a reminder of her remarkable artistry with the cane and it was a very painful and disagreeable experience. I slide my pea-shooter back in my satchel. I will wait for a better opportunity. Now that Ms Gascoigne’s radar has been alerted she will be watching us like a hawk.

Fifteen minutes before the bell rings to signal the end of the lecture I raise my hand and ask to be excused. I am scheduled for kitchen duty and need to cut along sharpish.

One of the major improvements Mr Humphries has implemented since taking over as Grand Master of the Unit is to fire the third-party caterers and put Dotty Hammell and Cassie Cassy in charge of the kitchens. They are both world renowned chefs and have transformed the fare served up at the unit from tasteless gruel to a healthy and balanced diet.

I hurry through the corridors. I have no intention of being late again and suffering a repeat performance of a recent unpleasant incident. A few weeks ago I foolishly pitched up ten minutes late for duty. Dotty Hammell is a sweetie and she is the doyen of the Liberal Left of the Brass. Nonetheless, she runs the kitchen like a military operation and the one thing she will not tolerate is tardy time-keeping. She marched me across the kitchen, put me over her knee and gave me a damn good spanking with her favorite Peruvian wooden spoon. Apparently she found this spoon when she was touring the Northern Andes. It is made from petrified wood and is extremely potent. She likes to land each spank one on top of the other. She might find this an amusing trick but I sure as hell don’t! She spanks very fast and very hard so my bum is absolutely scorching when she returns me to the upright.

I don’t know what got into me but when she turned her back I stuck out my tongue and blew a raspberry at her. She must have eyes in the back of head because before I knew it I was back head down, arse up over her knee. She yanked back my skirt and to my horror she dragged down my bumbags! Despite my protests she began to whap me with a wooden spatula.

I can’t help myself, my legs began to kick spastically and my fists pummeled the air. This innocuous looking utensil is an absolute killer. She’s spanked me with it once before but at least I had the protection of my bumbags. On the bare the spatula seems to weld itself to my flesh and then suck the skin off when she retracts it. On top of an already well-spanked bum this is excruciating. Not to mention that having my bare bum exposed to a kitchen filled with gawking gals is more than a tad undignified.

Once we were finished she had another unpleasant surprise for me. I had been designated to serve table in the Grand Master’s private dining room where he was entertaining Christopher Brooks, the Minister for Extreme Social Rehabilitation. She obviously did not consider a sizzling hot bottom as reason to relieve me of my duties.

The Grand Master and his guest were polite enough not to pass comment but you wouldn’t need to be Hercule Poirot to detect the signs that I’m sporting a red hot bottom. I was very stiff-legged and my bum was wriggling and squirming uncontrollably. I did my best to be polite and efficient but I was awfully relieved when it was all over and I was able to limp upstairs to our study and have Rosemary soothe my scalding arse with her mystical balms.

Fortunately today I arrive at the kitchen with time to spare. I check the roster and see that I have been assigned to assist Cassie at the soup station. I go into the changing area and put on a blouson, cargo baggies and tie my hair up under a beanie before returning to the kitchen and start to chop mushrooms.

Cooking with Cassie is always fun. She may be a complete ditz most of the time but she is unbelievable in the kitchen. I am one of seven assistants on duty and she flits between the work-stations giving out little tips as we prepare a wide array of tasty soups and colorful salads. I was never much of a cook before Mr Humphries introduced the self-sufficiency program but I’m really beginning to enjoy it, especially when I’m not distracted by smoke billowing out of my bumbags!

Thankfully I get through kitchen duty without any unpleasant incident and next it’s off to the music chamber. As you might know the Music Chamber has been the venue of several unpleasant incidents in the past. For the first few years of my sentence I had a pretty good relationship with the Dame in charge of Music, Ms Whitton. I sing in the choir and play clarinet in the orchestra and although she caned me occasionally it was all pretty routine. All that would change due to an embarrassing incident known to the Woody Wags as ‘the Incident of the Fabulous Fart’. I shall not dwell on this unfortunate episode lest to say I went straight to the top of Ms Whitton’s shit-list without passing go or collecting two-hundred squids!

Ms Whitton was a spiteful cove and laid siege to my bumbags. For almost a year she bent me over the piano stool and beat me with a violin bow at every opportunity. And not just any old violin bow I might add. She was completely batty and actually commissioned some punter down in Brazil to make a custom bow and even had the ‘Morton Special’ engraved down the shaft.

Eventually my chums staged an intervention and Jojo reported Ms Whitton to the Grand Master. Mr Humphries is a fair guy and listened to both sides. He believed me and Jojo and Nix and Rosemary’s version of events and unbelievably he had Ms Whitton arrested and carted off in bracelets by the local Plod. She is currently languishing in chokey where she doubtless spends her days having vengeful thoughts about my bumbags.

After Ms Whitton was hauled off the Grand Master employed Miss Suzy Scott as her replacement. Now Suzy is an absolute dote and we love her to death but it has to be said that lecturing on the rudiments and theory of music was not her strong suit. In fact she has confessed to me in private that her musical experience was limited to fronting an exceptionally unsuccessful punk-rock band. Nonetheless she does have one quite extraordinary talent.

Suzy Scott stands four-feet ten-inches in her stockinged feet and looks like she might weigh eighty pounds with two bricks in her pockets. She wears big baggy jackets and on first impression she looks like she couldn’t whop her way out of a paper bag. This is rather deceiving as I discovered to the severe detriment of my bumbags.

For some reason I felt duty bound to test out the mettle of the new Dame and joshed and japed her until she finally resorted to beating me. I sauntered cockily up to the front of the chamber and took up position across the piano stool. I was expecting a few light flicks across the bumbags and something to chortle about later with my chums.

Unbeknownst to me Miss Suzy Scott is a champion kick-boxer and martial arts expert. When she shrugged off her jacket my chums were treated to the sight of her honed and toned physique. She is a veritable miniature super-woman!

I was completely unprepared for the power of the first whop. It nearly cut me in two. Worse was still to come. Suzy has an uncanny ability to land every stroke one on top of the other. The effect is over-whelming and I’m ashamed to say I opened up my lungs and howled!

Ms Scott didn’t last long as a teaching Dame. Mr Humphries elevated her to the position of Head of Operations. Nonetheless she did hold the position long enough to beat me on two more occasions. These were both hot and sweaty experiences and confirmed her reputation as a true artiste with the cane.

After Ms Scott was promoted Mr Humphries put Maestra Tatyana Kerimov on the payroll. I had first encountered Tatyana a decade earlier when I was a member of the National Youth Orchestra and we were lucky enough to be invited to Russia to play at the legendary Conservatory. She was the musical director and one of the few female conductors in the world. It was also rumored that she had studied at the Dzerzhinsky Academy for the KGB. I was delighted by the news that Tatyana was coming to the unit.

Now it has to be said Maestra is something of a queer-cove. She wears this ankle-length monk’s shroud and keeps the hood up most of the time so you can’t see what she is looking at. She walks with a noticeable limp and uses a long ornately carved wooden staff for support. She looks like a cross between Rasputin and Darth Vader. Nonetheless she is a brilliant tutor and has spent hours of her free-time talking to me about conducting and rehearsing me on new pieces on the clarinet.

Unfortunately my unruly behavior has twice prompted her to invite me to step up to the front of the chamber and fold myself over the piano stool. I don’t know whether the KGB give their agents whop-training but if they do there’s no doubt that Tatyana would have graduated top of her year. That woman really knows how to whop!

On the way to the chamber I meet up with Nixdown. She is cheerful and chatty but I can tell that she is feeling smug about her earlier sneak attack. I am determined to reap some pay-back but I’m equally determined not to do anything rash that will result in me taking another trip across the piano stool.

I select a seat one row behind Nix and over to her left. If I see an opportunity I am perfectly placed and there will be little she can do to retaliate without making it obvious. Nixdown will be aware of my strategic positioning and even if an opportunity fails to present itself she will spend the whole lecture feeling anxious. Serves her right, my leg still smarts!

Tatyana is an expert on Russian composers and she is waxing eloquent on the life of Mikhail Glinka. It is interesting stuff and I quickly become absorbed in the lecture. Perhaps I shall leave my revenge on Nixdown until later. It would be a crying shame to interrupt the interesting proceedings with a distracting six of the best.

When the bell rings it occurs to me that we have now got through five complete lectures without any of us being required to bend over. Nixdown got shown a yellow card earlier this morning but since then we’ve hardly even attracted a scolding between us. This is highly unusual. Jojo, Nixdown, Rosemary and I are known as the Famous Four and have a well-deserved reputation for our accomplishments in the world of mega-minxdom. We are actually quite a studious bunch and are very competitive when it comes to maintaining high grades. Nonetheless, the lecture rooms are ideal venues for some serious goofing, joshing and pranking and it is a rare day when one or the other of us doesn’t end up pointing our bum’s skywards.

I look at my timetable. We are scheduled for a French tutorial with Madame Diderot, which is always an interesting experience, so I’m going to cut along and I’ll let you know how I get on. Ciao for now.

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

Scorching New Woody Toon 20 … Bend Over Booker

Poor Rosemary falls foul of the Yvonne Godfrey the evil Goddess of Thrashing!

Here’s another great example of Dave Ell’s talent at interpreting a brief and illustrating it in just four panels … awesome and great spanking fun!

A hearty welcome to the new guests to the Woody Back to School Unit  and my appreciation to the legendary Chross over at Chross Spanking Resources for including us in his weekly round-up.

My apologies for this brief post but I am still up to my lugs in work. Nonetheless for the rest of you it’s the weekend so kick-back … pour a glass of vino and enjoy the cartoon and then have a rummage around the site … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

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

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

Sensational New Woody Toon 19 … Spanked in the Kitchen

A Peruvian Wooden Spoon formed from petrified wood found only in the Northern Mountains of the Andes! A skin-sucking spatula found only in the the dollar bins at Wal-Mart! Spanking tools are Universal! Just keep ya eyes skinned and you never know where they might present themselves.

Here’s another example of Dave Ell’s talent at interpreting a brief and illustrating it in just four panels … awesome and great spanking fun! The full story can be found at A Spanking in the Kitchen … so if you love the toon go and read the story … it’s nearly the weekend so kick-back … pour a glass of vino and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

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

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

It’s Time for Six of the Best … A Woody Toon Teaser

Just a little teaser from the forthcoming Woody Toon 20. Two new Toons are scheduled for the weekend so mark your calendars …Unfortunately work obligations once again distract me from the more important things in life but have a rummage around the site, there’s lots to read and peruse so kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

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

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 2

The Morning Lectures

Arm-in arm Rosemary and I cut through the corridors on our way to the lecture rooms. Thankfully, this morning, we have managed to skate safely through the minefield of the Early Morning Rituals and are both sporting cool arses. This is a blessing, as let me tell you there is nothing worse than the prospect of having to lower a red and burning bum down onto a hard unyielding wooden seat for hours on end. But, needless to say, there are still many potential hazards for our bumbags ahead of us.

I take my seat and place my satchel on the floor between the legs of the desk. While leaning down to retrieve my books and papers I also palm the hot-pink plastic Pisrool derringer water-pistol that I recently acquired on eBay and slip it into my blazer pocket. It’s not much use for long-range action but it comes in handy as emergency back-up. A gal always needs to be prepared.

I put out my books and scan the day’s schedule. There is not much to be said in favor of being banged up for seven years in a Government Correctional Institute but I am kind of bookish by nature and I have to admit that the academic programs that Ms Lawton put in place are exemplary.

Our first lecture is with Ms Sills, she’s the Dame in charge of English Literature. She is a specialist in the Sixteenth Century sonnets which are particular favorites of mine. She is quite young, only a few years older than me and is generally minx-friendly. She encourages healthy and open discussions and allows a reasonable amount of joshing during her lectures. Therein lies the problem, I spend all day in the lecture rooms with my best chums and mega-minxes Jojo, Rosemary and Nixdown and we are not always the best judges of where ‘reasonable’ ends and ‘excessive’ begins. Not to say that Ms Sills isn’t scrupulously fair. She generally gives a verbal warning and will follow up with a yellow card. This should be fair warning to watch your p’s and q’s but it doesn’t always work out that way.

Ms Sills may not be one of the strictest of disciplinarians but when she does choose to reach for the twig, boy, she canes hard! So I shall err on the side of caution.

This morning we are discussing Astrophel and Stella, the poem composed by Sir Philip Sidney. Nixdown, who for some reason knows about such things, insists that the sonnets were written about Lady Penelope Rich, a renowned beauty from the Court of Elizabeth the First. According to Nix Lady Pen was a bit of a bed-hopper and Nixdown insisted on interrupting the proceedings with very amusing but quite lewd tit-bits of information about Her Ladyship. At first Ms Sills chuckled indulgently but shortly she politely asked Nix to pipe down so we could get on with the job on hand. When Nix ignored the warning Ms Sills resorted to showing her a yellow card which caused Nix to pout and look rather sulky.

Despite Nixdown’s rather colorful penchant for late-night recreational spanking she makes it very clear that she has absolutely no taste for formal punishment. In fact even the threat of it tends to make her rather belligerent and when Nixdown is being belligerent she is rather unpredictable and liable to start a rumpus. I hope that she doesn’t starting acting the bollocks as I am rather enjoying the sensation of having an unscathed bum perched comfortably on my seat but I shall keep a weather eye on the situation.

Fortunately she just sits and pouts and we get through a very enjoyable and enlightening lecture without anybody being required to touch their toes at the front of the room or being sent upstairs for a bare bender.

Next up we have maths with Reed the Weed. Now this can be a very dodgy proposition indeed. I have no idea how the Weed managed to get herself on the payroll as unlike the rest of the Brass she can’t whop her way out of a wet paper-bag.

I don’t really care for maths and find it a bit of a slog. I have to really work hard to maintain good grades. It has to be said that the Weed is actually a very good tutor but she has difficulty maintaining control. It is considered fine sport to ‘Jape the Weed’ and many of her lectures quickly deteriorate into a state of pandemonium.

When I first started my sentence the Weed still thought she was in the discipline game. During my Brat Year she put me over her knee and spanked me on several occasions. It was comical and she might as well have used a wet ear of lettuce. During the second phase of my sentence she caned me once or twice. It was pathetic really, barely enough power to generate more than a few seconds of tingling. Then somewhere during the piece she resorted to a new tactic. Doubtless prompted by the Be-yotch Patty Hodge she quit trying to hand out whops herself and resorted to reaching for her red card.

Being shown a red card in the lecture room means a trip upstairs to the principal’s office and results in an almost guaranteed bare bender with the senior cane. Serious business!

Nonetheless ‘Japing the Weed’ is such divine fun we often forget the stakes and indulge our love of minxdom. I don’t know who started it this morning. Nixdown I suspect, who was still grumpy over the yellow card she had been shown by Ms Sills, but soon pellets, peas and squirts of water were flying about the room. Pandemonium has ensued.

Of course we are skilled and experienced in such shenanigans and are activities are covert and our attacks only carried out when the Weed’s back is turned. I am beaned several times on the head and get a lug-full of coldwater that is most unpleasant. I respond of course, emptying my derringer before reaching into my satchel and retrieving my favorite seventeen centimeter long vintage tinplate pea shooter that I acquired at an on-line auction. The literature that accompanied it promised improved power and accuracy up to six yards, so it seemed ideal for this mission. I fill my mouth with dried peas and wait for an opportunity for some pay-back.

Miraculously the Weed seems immune to the chaos going on behind her back and our private war goes unnoticed. The bell rings to announce the end of the lecture and I quite reasonably expect a ceasefire. Just as I am about to put my trusty shooter back in its hiding place I am startled by a terrible sting in my upper right thigh. I have to grit my teeth to suppress a squeal. Once I open my eyes and get my breath back it is too late. The culprit has secreted her weapon and all be chums are beaming cheerfully at what fun we have had. This is war!

The trouble with outbreaks of hostilities so early in the day is that we have many more lectures to get through and the next one is particularly fraught with danger as we have geography with Ms Wharton.

Ms Wharton, or the Wart as she is generally known, is an odious creature. She is a bully and a Whop Junkie and a fully paid up member of the Radical Right. She is universally despised. She is Patty Hodge’s loyal sycophant and revels in having one of the highest whop-rates amongst the Brass.

I have been caned by the Wart on more occasions than I care to recall. The thing with the Wart is that it can be a hit or miss affair. She is over-zealous and sometimes she is so intent to cut your bumbags to tatters that she miss-fires and only gives glancing blows. On the other hand her lack of control can cause her to give painful wraparounds or low riders. Nonetheless it is always a disagreeable affair.

The Wart is partial to drop or three of the strong stuff and I suspect that she starts on the tequila slammers a little early in the day. She rarely bothers with verbal warnings or yellow cards preferring to snatch up her cane at the first opportunity. Once you are invited to step up to the front of the room your ordeal has only just begun. The Wart likes to lean her face into you while she screams barbed vitriolic. Her breath is truly appalling and her language is vile. It is a most disagreeable experience.

The Wart likes us to bend over and touch our toes. Of course this is the most unfavorable and difficult pose to maintain. The protocols dictate that our fingers must touch the tips of our shoes throughout a caning and that if we ‘jerk’ the stroke may be disqualified and repeated. Most of the Brass ignore this nonsense as long as we get back in position quickly. Not the Wart. We Woody Wags often joke “when is six not six? When it’s counted by the Wart”. We are witty like that.

I am hoping that an unspoken amnesty will prevail as spending time with the lunatic GeoDame is dangerous enough without us continuing our covert little battle. I fix Nix with a warning glare and she just grins and winks at me.

It is a nerve-wracking thirty-five minutes but somehow a state of détente manages to prevail and the Wart actually has quite a few interesting things too say on the subject of the influence of Chinese investment on emerging national economies. I am relieved when the bell rings. I have managed to get through three lectures without a single scolding, verbal warning or yellow card.

Our final lecture of the morning is with my old friend and favorite Dame, Pauline Gascoigne. She tutors us in advanced economics and is about the only person I know who can make even the dry theories of Melanie Klien sound vaguely interesting. She is twenty-nine years old, just three years older than I am and I have known her for over a decade and a half.

We schooled together at the Queensgate Academy and I helped ran the campaign to have her elected as the Head Prefect, or the President of Posh, as she was known. This was a rather unfortunate period of my life and despite our friendship she was required to whop (or pop as we called it), nineteen times. Oh well as the adage goes, “better to be beaten by someone you know than someone you don’t”, and I still considered her a close chum.

I am hoping that the spirit of détente will continue. Everybody loves Pauline and we generally don’t make life too hard for her. Nonetheless, between lectures I have reloaded my derringer and will be vigilant in watching for sly and unprovoked ambushes. I’ll let you know how it goes …

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

A Running Bender

Encouraged by a respectable viewing of the first installment of ‘A Life in the Day of Debs Morton’ I have decided to plough on with my writing experiment … and hopefully will have Part 2 ready over the next few days … I’m working with Dave Ell on two new great cartoons for the weekend so it’s a busy week at the unit … meanwhile have a good rummage around the site … there’s lots to see and read … Bottoms Up! … RH

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

Jojo Sets a Woody Record, and a Life in the Day of Debs Morton

My Beloved Jojo is not sure whether to be flattered or dismayed at the massive response to our newest Woody Toon 18 featuring her being publicly flogged. The Toon has received a record-breaking number of hits over the past thirty-six hours! I assured that she should take this as a compliment but she gave me one of her Jojo looks so I shall return to writing and cut down on the philosophizing.

Writing spanking stories should never be a chore, so I have elected to invoke my writer’s prerogative to elect to change, edit or even abandon a project. I started writing a series ‘A Life in the Day of a Woody Inmate’ but for some reason I found it a chore. I have decided to completely re-write the post as I didn’t think it was much fun, or particularly good, and writing the follow-up was giving me a serious dose of the pip.

I thought it would work better if I tried to write a series through the eyes of each of the Famous Four. I have decided to start with Debs Morton as I have been writing about her for so long. If I’m having fun I’ll work my way through the various perspectives of Jojo, Nix and Rosemary, who all have radically different personalities and characteristics. Of course this is just an experiment and could quickly go pear-shaped on me as I face the small challenge that these are young women in their mid-twenties and I do not meet any of those criteria. But anyway, what the hell, here goes … I hope you enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 1 – The Early Morning Rituals

My alarm clock goes off at five-forty five, rudely jolting me out the land of nod. I don’t know how my room-mate Rosemary sleeps through it, but she doesn’t even blink an eyelid. I consider hitting the snooze button and catching another five minutes of zee’s but decide against it. I am scheduled to meet my coach, Jane Lummell, at six and not unreasonably she gets a tad shirty if she has bothered to climb out of her scratch at the crack of dawn and then has to wait around because I’m late. On several occasions she has put me over her knee and slippered me for tardy time-keeping and I’d rather avoid starting my day with a sore bottom.

I swing my legs off the bed and pad across the room trying not to disturb Rosie. I look out of the window of our study; it looks a little fresh outside. The dew is still glistening on the Sussex Downs so I grab a singlet, running shorts and a track-suit top. I lace up my running shoes and head for the door. Rosemary is still sleeping blissfully. Lucky gal!

There is nobody about at this time of the morning so I can trot down the corridors and take the stairs two at a time without any danger of being caught by a member of the Elite and sent up to the library for six of the best.

I stop by the cafeteria. Cassie Cassy is already up and about and organizing the kitchen roster on her laptop. She grins at me and tells me that she’s made the coffee. No matter what time of day it is, morning, noon or night, Cassie is always bright and cheerful and has a wonderfully demented grin. We love her to death but there are clear signs that she might well be certifiably barking. I pour some coffee and add an espresso shot. I drink it quickly and head off to meet Jane.

Ms Lummell is waiting by the stables but fortunately I’m on time so we don’t need to worry about a slippering. We are going to run four miles around the inside of the perimeter of the compound and we set off at a healthy trot.

Over the years Jane and I have become quite tight. I am very grateful to her for all the time and effort she has voluntarily donated to keep me in shape. She is not really a tennis coach but she has been amazing and between her and my old chum and fellow tennis pro, Rachel Cox, they have kept me at the top of my game. Hopefully I’ll be ready to make a comeback on the Grand Prix circuit when I finally finish my sentence.

Not that Jane cuts me any slack or extends me any favors because of our special relationship. In fact it often seems to be quite the opposite. Just a few weeks ago she caught me swinging on a rope in the gymnasium when there wasn’t a safety mat in place. She wasted no time in instructing me to lower a training beam and bend over so that she could whap my butt with one of her over-sized plimsolls. She said it was a health and safety issue but she didn’t seem the least bit concerned about the health and safety of my poor beleaguered bum.

On one occasion we were hosting a table tennis game at the facility against a local team. The visiting team was our fiercest rival and whoever won would go top of the league. I had just finished playing and had managed to win a close game. I retired to the bleachers to watch Rachel playing another crucial match.

I should know better of course but while a point was in play I leaned over and whispered something in Rosemary’s ear. Ms Lummell, who was umpiring, was furious and although she didn’t address me directly she instructed the audience to remain silent during play. She did give me a withering look.

Gawd knows why but during the next point I repeated my impolite behavior and she combusted. She bustled up into the bleachers and yanked me out of my seat. She hustled me out of the gymnasium towards the office she kept in the changing room. I was mortified.

I was in absolutely no doubt that she intended to haul me into the office, bend me over the desk and pummel my gymshorts with her formidable slipper. Of course everybody in the gymnasium would be able to hear.

We had barely got through the swing doors to the changing rooms when she had a change of heart. She span me around and hauled me back into the gym. She dragged me over to the table tennis table and slammed me face down. She borrowed a table tennis bat and proceeded to give me six very hearty spanks in front of our startled guests!

Worst was still to come. She insisted that I stay around and play the final game of the evening. Although I’m proud to say that I did actually win it was all rather embarrassing. So as you can see … No slack for Debs from my tennis coach!

We finish our run and then spend another thirty minutes doing floor exercises like crunches and push-ups. By seven o’clock I’m ready to hit the shower.

As I cross the quadrangle on my way back to the quarter’s wing the campus is slowly beginning to come to life. There are a few early-risers loitering about in the cloisters and sitting on the edge of the fountain, drinking coffee and sucking down on an early morning fag. Back in Ms Lawton’s day this was illegal as there was a smoking ban but since Mr Humphries took over as Grand Master he has relaxed some of the more draconian rules. I exchange nods and early morning pleasantries and cut along to the House to get ready for the upcoming day.

On my way up to our study I stop off at my laundry pigeon-hole. I always get a slight tightening in my stomach as I approach the pick-up spot. Every night we are required to hand-in our blouses, socks and bumbags for laundering. According to the protocols known as ‘The Politics of Clobber’ all articles of clothing must be submitted in pristine condition. Unfortunately I am what is known amongst the Woody Wags as ‘Clobber-Challenged’.

I’m not exactly a ragamuffin or a hobo but I certainly won’t be included on any of the best-dressed lists. My good chum Nixdown Nixon says it’s because I only buy ‘catalogue crap’ that isn’t designed to last. Of course Nixdown comes from well-heeled chaps and she has a personal Clobber Consultant and her blouses, ties, gymslips and blazers are custom tailored out of exotic and expensive fabrics.

In my opinion the ‘Politics of Clobber’ are ridiculous but long-ago Katie Beck managed to get them written into the Woody Charter and has worked assiduously to make them increasingly onerous at every opportunity.

Of course Katie Beck is a Be-yotch of the first order. When I started my sentence she was an inmate and had managed to claw and scratch her way to the role of Red-shirt. She operated an evil and crooked regime and surrounded herself with a group of sycophants known as ‘The Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers’. She was greatly despised so it was hugely unpopular when she persuaded Ms Lawton to allow her to return to the unit in the role of Matron with full thrashing rights.

There have been numerous mornings when I have looked in my pigeon-hole and instead of finding my freshly laundered clobber I am confronted with an acerbic note from Katie instructing me to, ‘Cut along sharpish to my office to answer to charges of clobber abuse’.

Clobber Abuse is a rather harsh term considering we are talking about minor blemishes, nicks, hanging threads, chipped or discolored buttons or anything else that Katie deems to be unreasonable signs of wear and tear. Unfortunately the ‘Politics of Clobber’ protocols are over twenty pages long and she has trained her Clobber Inspectors well. It is widely suspected that she pays them bonuses for every item of clobber that they report to be found in an abusive condition.

Hiding behind the safety of the protocols Katie knows that she has the upper-hand takes the opportunity to make an early-morning visit to her office a most disagreeable experience.

She sits behind her desk dressed in her skin-tight white uniform, unbuttoned to show off her boobs with her coprophagic grin on her puss. She waves the garments at you and embarks of some lengthy diatribe about the cost to the State of providing us with clobber and our lack of responsibility. Actually this is complete bs as the cost of my incarceration is funded by the dosh that the System seized from me when I was sentenced. Nonetheless it is pointless arguing with Katie so we just roll our eyes and try to ignore her.

After she has finished venting her spleen she proceeds to subject us to a full bib-down, tie-back clobber inspection. This is a most disconcerting experience as she circles you inspecting every button, hem and seam for further signs of clobber abuse. She likes to cluck her tongue while she works and mutter ominously, “Well, well, what have we here?” It is often difficult to resist the temptation to hack her in the shins. Needless to say if she discovers more infringements of the protocols she is at liberty to increase your punishment. For a clobber-challenged gal like me this can be a tense few minutes.

The standard punishment for clobber abuse is an over the knee, bare bottom spanking with a leather-soled slipper. Six spanks for the original abuse and three additional spanks for each additional clobber malfunction. My record is fifteen spanks which just goes to show what I mean when I say that I’m clobber-challenged.

Katie likes to talk while she spanks. Her favorite mantra is, “there is nothing like an early-morning slippering to kick-start your circulation!” Katie purchased these leather-soled slippers (actually they are sandals) from a flea-market in the Plaka in Athens. Much as I hate to admit it she selected well. The sandals are extremely potent and Katie Beck has a very good right arm!

As I say Katie is a Grade 1 Be-yotch and there is nothing more disagreeable than a visit to her office for a thorough rump-roasting before you’ve even had time to take brekker.

Fortunately this morning my laundry has been returned so I breathe a sigh of relief and grab the neatly folded clobber and repair upstairs to our study.

Rosemary is up and about and has been down to the cafeteria. She looks after my diet and has brought me bowl of muesli, some fresh fruit, orange juice and more steaming java, god bless her navy-blue bumbags. I strip off and head into the bathroom to take a shower.

Once I have showered, dressed and chowed down on my brekker it is time to cut along to the assembly hall for the first formal ritual of the day.

This is another event that is fraught with danger for my bumbags. The rules regarding assembly are strict. There is to be no ‘prodding’ pushing or poking’ protocol imposed during ingress and egress to the hall. Once we are in our seats there must be ‘no goofing, gabbing, larking or pranking’. According to Ms Lawton it is not unreasonable to expect us to spend thirty minutes a day displaying some lady-like decorum. Mr Humphries has seen no reason to revise this protocol.

Our behavior is closely scrutinized by the Red-shirt and her Elite. They are trained to notice even the most minor breach of protocol. Red cards are mandatory and anybody spotted recklessly breaking the rules is immediately evicted and sent to stand in a lonely vigil at the front of the hall.

Unfortunately over the years I have shown a distinct tendency for displaying unlady-like decorum and hold the unenviable record for being ejected from the proceedings.

I don’t know what gets into me, honestly I don’t. I am convinced that I have an alter-ego, a naughty sister inside me that I call ‘the Imposter’. One minute I am sitting quietly in my seat, lost in deep contemplation and then suddenly for no reason I find myself annoying the gal seated in front of me by tapping the seat of her chair with my foot or some other mindless annoyance. Before I know it I’ll hear my name being called by a red-card waving member of the Elite, “Morton, step up for goofing” she’ll shout at the top of her lungs and so it begins.

Of course every head in the hall has turned to watch me as I struggle past the knees of my seated chums and out into the aisle. I always feel kind of self-conscious as I make my way to the front of the hall. No matter how often it happens I can’t stop my cheeks from turning a little red.

We are required to take up position in some kind of no man’s land between the double doors and the stairs to the stage. We all try to feign an air of studied nonchalance but it is impossible not to feel a little foolish. After all the gals in their seats have nothing better to do than stare at you and you know that every one of them is thinking that in less than thirty minutes you are going to be getting the cane.

Depending on the timing of your eviction you can be left standing up the front for anything up to ten minutes. That might not sound long but it is plenty of time to ruminate over your latest misfortune. After all for a moments gratuitous amusement, which truth be known was neither very gratifying nor particularly amusing, you have guaranteed yourself a mandatory six-stroke bare bender. Actually in my case, as fully paid up member of the ‘Double-Berkeley Society’ I am guaranteed twelve strokes. How dumb is that?

After a while you will hear the click and clack of heels in the wood-floored corridor leading to the hall. The Red-shirt will announce “All rise, Brass approaching.” This a good time to straighten-up, shoulders back, hands by sides and try to look penitent.

The Brass strides into the hall and sweeps by you. For the most part they ignore you although some of the nicer Dame’s might throw you a sympathetic look. The last to enter the hall are always Patty Hodge and the Wart. Of course they do not merely sweep by but feel obliged to stop and make some, in my opinion very unnecessary, remarks. God forbid if the top button of your blouse is unfastened and your tie loosened (mine has been on several occasions) because Patty will take great glee in showing you a second red-card. “Make yourself an appointment with Katie for a slippering for collar and tie abuse,” she will announce theatrically before taking her place on the stage.

Finally the principal arrives. Back in Ms Lawton’s time she would often stop and fix you with her gimlet glare. She had a way of speaking that was so cold and clipped that it sent a chill up your spine. In less than fifty words she could leave you feeling as if you had been mauled by a mountain cat. You could hardly wait to be instructed to leave the hall and go upstairs to have your bum inspected by Katie Beck.

Until recently the Grand Master took a rather more relaxed view towards us getting booted out of the hall and barely even broke stride as he dismissed you. However, in recent times things have taken a turn for the worse.

I am forced to admit that my behavior in the hall has been far from stellar of late and even the Grand Master is losing patience with finding me waiting at the front of the hall. Mr Humphries is not given to lengthy diatribes he seems to think actions speak louder than words. I can assure you that being hauled up onto the stage and being publicly spanked certainly communicated a particularly articulate message!

Thankfully this morning the Imposter minded her own business and assembly passed uneventfully. We finally leave the hall and head back to the study to collect our satchels.

I go to my closet and select a catapult, pea-shooter and my favorite vintage water-pistol and stuff them into my bag along with my books. It is time to hit the lecture halls and no self-respecting minx does not travel loaded for bear in case of all eventualities.

Well I’ve at least managed to get through the early part of the morning with my bumbags intact so as I link arms with Rosemary and saunter onto the landing we shall just have to wait and see how I fare during the next stage of the day.

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

Stunning New Woody Toon 18 – A Public Flogging for Jojo

Yesterday we saw Jojo managing to accumulate three red cards in a single day and being sentenced to a mandatory public flogging. Part 2 transports the action to the assembly hall where our heroine is caned in front of the assembled unit. Please be assured that the use of this phrase under no circumstances should be interpreted as my endorsement of the barbaric practices perpetrated by unsavory regimes elsewhere in the real world! It is purely a figure of speech that was in common usage by writers such as Frank Richards back in the thirties and forties.

Once again Dave Ell has done a superb job of interpreting the brief and capturing the atmosphere surrounding the flogging. If you click on the picture twice and then twice again (don’t ask me why) you will see the full size version and can check out the minute details that Dave includes to make these pieces true spanking masterpieces (ok I’m biased but you have to admit they’re pretty good!).

Yesterday I mentioned that the British Sunday Times magazine used to feature a page called the ‘Life in the Day of … (some celebrity)’ and I thought I’d take a punt at writing ‘A Life in the Day of a Woody Gal’. The result of Part 1 is included beneath the Toon … hope you enjoy it … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

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

A Life in the Day of a Woody Gal – Part 1 – Early Morning Rituals

At seven a.m. each morning the bell on the clock tower tolls and another day of their sentences at the Woody Back to School Unit begins for the inmates.

Some gals are already up and about even before the bell sounds. Debs Morton religiously rises at dawn and meets her tennis coach, Jane Lummell, for an early morning run around the grounds. Cassie Cassy and the day’s kitchen crew start work at six-thirty. Other early risers can be found mooching about the cloisters enjoying a cup of coffee, an early morning fag and a breath of fresh air.

During the Ms Lawton era a strict no smoking, no hoochin’ regime was imposed but following the arrival of Mr Humphries a more liberal attitude prevails and the inmates no longer face a mandatory six of the best if they are caught sucking down on a quiet fag or two.

The first order of business for the inmates is to retrieve their clobber from their laundry pigeon-holes. This can be prove to be a disappointing experience. Each night the inmates are required to deposit their white blouses, bumbags, socks and any other items of clobber that need cleaning into the laundry-shute. The protocols known as the ‘Politics of Clobber’ are copious and detailed. All clobber must be submitted in pristine condition.

Katie Beck, the evil matron at the unit is tasked with ensuring that the inmates abide by the requirements of the Politics of Clobber. The Clobber Inspectors from the outside contractors are trained to study every item for even minor blemishes, nicks, hanging threads, chipped or discolored buttons or any other unreasonable signs of wear and tear. Any item of clobber found to be in an abusive condition is photographed, documented and bagged and tagged. Abusive clobber is sent directly to Katie.

It is always disconcerting for a gal to pitch up at her pigeon-hole to retrieve her freshly laundered clobber only to be confronted with a note from Katie instructing them to, ‘Cut along sharpish to my office to answer to charges of clobber abuse’.

Katie Beck’s maxim is that “there is nothing like a damn good slippering first thing in the morning to kick-start a gal’s circulation”. Needless to say the inmates find it somewhat disconcerting to find themselves subjected to taking a trip across Katie’s knee to have their rumps roasted before they’ve even had time for brekker.

Katie Beck is a die-hard Whop Junkie and relishes her work. She makes the pre-brekker interviews as disagreeable as possible. She favors leather-soled slippers that she purchased in the Plaka market area of Athens and embarks upon the imposition of the ‘Politics of Clobber’ zeaolously as can be seen in Woody Toon 16 .

However, despite the known risks many of the inmates are notoriously lax about checking and fixing their clobber before handing it in for laundering. Favorite heroines like Debs Morton and Rosemary Booker are notoriously clobber challenged and one inmate, Miss Bee Lee is so perennially challenged in this department that she has earned herself the nickname as ‘The Scruff’. Katie rarely has difficulty meeting the weekly clobber abuse slippering targets established by her handler, Patty Hodge, the heinous Commandant of the Radical Right, and regularly slippers half a dozen inmates every week.

Brekker at the unit is a buffet affair served in the cafeteria and though it is relatively informal Duty Monitors are assigned to ensure that there is no excessive goofing, larking or pranking. In extreme circumstances the inmates can be shown a red card and dispatched upstairs, forthwith, to the punishment room for a swift six of the best. Never a pleasant way to start the day.

After dressing, performing their ablutions and chowing down on a healthy brekker the inmates are required to repair to the assembly hall for the first formal ritual of the day. This can also prove to be a precarious affair.

The rules regarding behavior during ingress and egress to the hall are explicit. There will be no pushing, poking or prodding while entering or exiting the hall. Once seated in the hall a ‘no goofing, gabbing, larking, or pranking’ protocol is instituted. This protocol was introduced by Ms Lawton, who considered, not unreasonably, that it was not too much to ask for the inmates to spend ten or fifteen minutes each morning demonstrating a degree of ladylike decorum.

The behavior of the inmates is closely scrutinized by the Red-shirt and her Elite. They are trained to notice even the most minor breach of protocol. Red cards are mandatory and anybody spotted recklessly breaking the rules is immediately evicted and sent to stand in a lonely vigil at the front of the hall.

Considering that the minimum consequences of breaching the protocol is a mandatory six-stroke bare bender with the senior cane one could assume that this would act as a sufficient deterrent. Sadly not; the inmates that inhabit the correctional facility are prone to hasty and sometimes ill-conceived acts of mega-minxdom. Every year scores of the inmates are booted out of the assembly hall.

Debs Morton is the worst offender and eventually she even succeeds in trying the patience of Mr Humphries with her persistent compulsive impulsive disruptions to the proceedings. In Woody Toon 3 the Grand Master demonstrates his mild irritation at Deborah’s propensity for serial goofing in the assembly hall.

A final challenge that faces a gal who has been chucked out of the assembly hall is the state of her neckwear. The protocols dictate that ‘the collar of a gals blouse must be fastened at all times and the top button covered with the knot of her tie’. The official term for failing to comply with this protocol is known as ‘collar and tie abuse’ and if breached attracts a mandatory caning. Generally the more liberal members of the Brass and Elite are willing to overlook this as an indiscretion and will merely instruct the inmate to correct the abusive condition. However, for gals ejected from the hall this can prove to be yet another early morning hazard to her bumbags.

The last members of the Brass to enter the hall are invariably Patty Hodge and the Wart. They always take great pleasure in barreling down upon the luckless gal waiting beside the piano and presenting them with an unsavory ration of tongue pie. In the event that the gal’s neckwear is observed to be in an abusive condition Patty will invoke the harshest interpretation of the protocol and inevitably gleefully produce a second red-card. She will then imperiously compound the luckless individual’s fortunes by loudly instructing her to make an appointment to visit with Katie Beck the following morning to have her poor beleaguered bum upturned for a drubbing with the matron’s leather slipper.

As you can see a pattern is beginning to emerge and the inmates bumbags are under constant threat from the moment they rise in the morning and it is a rare day that at least one member of the Woody community does not begin her long day in the lecture halls with bumbags full of smarts forcing her to wriggle and squirm in the hard, unyielding wooden seats as she pores studiously over her books.

More about the lecture rooms tomorrow.

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

Brand New Woody Toon 17 – Three Red Cards for Jojo

The Woody Back to School Unit is very proud to present the first installment of an experimental and completely original two-part Woody Toon. Personally I think artist Dave Ell has done a wonderful job with this interpretation and Part Two will be posted at the same time tomorrow so set your clocks and check in wherever you are.

Btw for anybody who would like to commission Dave I have corrected his email which should read lodgy53@yahoo.co.uk. I can only say that working with Dave on this collection has been a great experience so if you have ever thought about having a little surprise rendition as a gift for your partner he will be more than happy to help you and his fees are very reasonable.

Many years ago the British Sunday Times magazine used to feature a page called the ‘Life in the Day of … (some celebrity)’ … over the next few days I’m going to have a bash at writing ‘A Life in the Day of a Woody Gal’ and see how it works out … in the meantime … kick-back and enjoy this magnificent new toon, have a good old rummage around the site … and remember to check back tomorrow for the sensational Part Two … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

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

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

Congratulations to Bonnie and My Bottom Smarts

The Woody Back to School Unit is very pleased to present Bonnie Burns of the legendary My Bottoms Smarts site with the Five Red Bums Order of Merit for Exceptional Services to the International Spanking Community … 8 Million Hits!!! … That’s a pretty stunning statistic … and I think anybody who has ever visited her page or had any communication with her will share my appreciation of her never-ending courtesy and grace … so thanks Bonnie for all your hard work … Bottoms Up! to a true legend … RH and Jojo.

A Little Titillation from the Upcoming’s New Toons

Just a quick teaser from the new sensational two-part Woody Toon that we are planning for the weekend … mark your calendars … Bottoms Up … RH

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

Jojo gets a lesson in Aero-dynamics and Cat gives a Second Opinion

Thanks to everybody who has hung in here and been rummaging about the site while RH has been lost in business hell. I’ve noticed a lot of guests have been rummaging through some of the older posts and are hopefully getting to know the characters a little better and picking up on the story-lines. Of course if you popped over to the Woodettes Publications Page and bought the books you could read the stories in their full chronological glory!

Today’s extract is from Volume 5 – A New Regime and features My Beloved Jojo and Cat Cassidy getting an invaluable lesson in aero-dynamics.

This weekend we have a special two-part toon planned so mark your calendars … in the meantime … kick-back and enjoy this extract … Bottoms Up! … RH

Life for the mega-minxes had taken a turn for the better. Mr Humphries seemed passionately dedicated both to the facility and the best interests of the inmates. Ms Lawton had always encouraged the gals to participate in extra curricula activities but the programs had often seemed staid and archaic. Ms Lawton had opposed the gal’s access to the Internet in any form and had banned them from having cellular phones.

The new Grand Master had ripped out the antiquated computer server that had been in use at the facility for the past ten years, replacing it with a super-fast fiber optic system that had wireless connectivity to the gal’s laptops and work stations. He issued the Elite gals cell phones so that they could remain connected as they patrolled the facility and any gal who went into town was given access to a phone so she could call in an emergency. He handed out pda’s to all eighty-four inmates and allowed monitored Internet access to the whole unit. He espoused web-based learning and encouraged the gals to set up chat rooms and bulletin boards to swap ideas and information about common interests. Every gal had a homepage that was accessible via the GalGab intranet where she was allowed to post whatever she pleased within pre-set guidelines. He advocated self-sufficiency for the unit and instead of hiring high cost IT consultants he assigned the facilities keenest technocrat, Nicola Jane Nixon, to ensure the smooth running of the system.

He announced plans for weekly guest speakers and performers to visit the facility, ranging from lecturers and motivational speakers, to classical, jazz and rock musicians, poets and authors.

He organized forums where the inmates could bring ideas for in-house projects and he helped facilitate their incubation.

He encouraged the inmates to be more self-sufficient. He fired the outside catering staff and made Cassie Cassy Director of Culinary Services with a healthy budget. Every day she would be allocated a kitchen staff from amongst the inmates to provide exciting and nutritious fare to the dining hall.

He gave them carte blanche to make proposals for redecoration. He assigned Jojo the role of head of creative design with Lisa Sutton acting as her assistant.

The Grand Master slowly and painstakingly set about winning the inmate’s confidence and ensuring that there wouldn’t be any hiccoughs in their social rehabilitation.

The high jinx of the mega-minxes didn’t seem to disturb the Grand Master in the least. In fact they amused him greatly and he treated them indulgently, even when he was disciplining them.

The Grand Master was especially fond of Joanna Heyworth. Jojo had been one of the first gals to embrace his project forum concept and had already proposed a series of short plays she wanted to produce and had opened a master-class program in faux finishes and trompe l’oeil. He found her cheerful and earnest, clever and witty, and very, very naughty all at the same time.

Mr Humphries smiled at Jojo as she stood before him doing a woefully poor caricature of contrition as she explained why she had been called upon to visit him for fourth time in the space of three weeks. He rather fancied that the Dame who had chucked her out of the lecture room’s version of events might differ slightly from Jojo’s. Nonetheless he listened with patient amusement.

“So Heyworth, let me make sure I understand this,” he said finally. “The reason that you happened to take your ruler and use it to project a missile across the lecture room was just for research?”

“Well it wasn’t a missile sir,” she corrected him. “It was an artistic interpretation of a biplane. We had been discussing aero dynamics and I was just making sure I had things straight.”

“Aero dynamics huh?” asked the Grand Master.

“Yes sir,” confirmed Jojo.

“Well I think I have just the thing to show you the true physics of aero dynamics,” he said standing up. Jojo bit her lip. She didn’t like the sound of that. She watched nervously as he crossed to the tallboy.

Mr Humphries was anything but conventional. Mr Humphries had a veritable armory in the tallboy. Along with his selection of senior canes, gals returned from his study with tales of straps and slippers. Jojo gasped as he produced from the cupboard, a wooden paddle with holes drilled along its shaft. Jojo had read about American gals getting paddled and that the holes increased the aero dynamism producing a blistering effect.

“Oh good grief,” she muttered.

Jojo lay prostrate across the desk, her bumbags lowered to her ankles and her skirt turned back. Behind her Mr Humphries had laid the shiny wooden paddle across her naked bottom. Joanna stretched her arms out until they dangled over the edge of the desk and prepared herself for the onslaught.

Mr Humphries’s physics lesson was comprehensive. Joanna was relieved that she was bent across the heavy desk. The paddle was heavier than the cane and its weight seemed to push her forward when it made its juicy contact. As it pulled back the holes seemed to suck her skin in and pop it out again in a single momentary action.

Jojo figured that the next few minutes were going to be extremely hot and sweaty.

Mr Humphries was pleased with the new paddle. He had spotted it in a store that specialized in such commodities and had immediately recognized its potential for enhancing his artillery. It had a round wooden handle that had been neatly wrapped in calf leather. The twelve-inch wooden shaft had been drilled with holes that had been carefully sanded to avoid inflicting unnecessary damage. The wood had been oiled and polished with a dark stain.

Nonetheless despite its aesthetic beauty it was a weapon that needed to be applied judiciously and with dexterity.

He hardly raised his arm at all; using a sharp flick of the wrist and relying on the ingenious device to do exactly what it was designed for. The results were encouraging. At each sharp crack of wood against flesh Jojo’s left leg involuntarily crooked at the knee.

This was Jojo’s fourth visit to his office in less than three weeks. On the first two occasions he had given her conventional canings and on her third visit he had put her across his knee and tried out a two-tailed tawse he had recently acquired. He had admired the resilience she had shown on each occasion. However, from her agitated reaction he concluded that the new paddle was giving her considerable gyp.

Joanna smoothed down her skirt and straightened her tie. Her backside was roasting. The drilled wooden paddle was a formidable adversary even for the whop-hardened reigning Big BUTT.

Mr Humphries was grinning cheerfully, “Well I expect that was quite warm,” he chuckled.

“Yes sir, just a tad, thank you very much,” said Jojo sniffilly.

“Well perhaps you’ll behave yourself a bit better in the future?” the Grand Master laughed. “Although, somehow, I very much doubt it.”

“You never know sir,” grinned Jojo, “I might just surprise you.”

“Perhaps you’d better,” he grinned, “because you are now officially code red.”

He turned the computer screen so that Jojo could see. At the top of the screen the punishment number field showed ‘179’.

“Oh great,” grumbled Jojo.

The Grand Master had a habit of engaging the gals in informal conversation during post-processing. He appeared impervious to the fact that her bottom was currently hot enough to roast crumpets on and all she really wanted to do was flap her skirt and dance an idiot gig.

Despite the state of the art technology Mr Humphries had introduced post-processing actually took longer than before. The punishment was first typed into the database for publication on the GalGab web-site, and then it was entered into the punishment record book that the inmates carried in the breast pockets of their blazer pockets at all times. He had considered automating the process and beaming the information directly to their pda’s but he liked the little PRB’s so he maintained the manual process. Finally the punishment was recorded in the huge leather bound ledger, embossed in gold with the Woody shield and calligraphied with the words Punishment Record Book.

He was damned if he was getting rid of the ledger, electronic age or not. The ledger contained records dating back over a hundred and fifty years and on careful inspection revealed the nefarious pasts of such Woody luminaries as Susan Lawton, Patty Hodge, Ma Brooks and Ma Morton.

He chatted idly with Jojo while he typed and wrote. Asking her how her draft of the play was progressing and enquiring about the prospects of the riding team at an upcoming horse trial event. Jojo did her best to concentrate and answer intelligently. Her bottom was blazing beneath her bumbags and she felt vaguely disorientated. Finally he slammed the ledger shut, screwed on the top of his fountain pen and asked her if she fancied a drink.

“Pardon me?” gasped Jojo.

“A drink,” smiled the Grand Master. “You do drink don’t you? I understand that the Bounder keeps a rather large inventory of wines and spirits that I’m sure you avail of liberally. How does a glass of bubbles sound?”

Jojo gaped at the Grand Master. “That would be nice,” she spluttered.

The Grand Master smiled and crossed to the drinks cabinet.

Jojo was a tad lit and was giggling at the Grand Master. Despite the ferocious burning in her bumbags she was having a jolly time. The Grand Master was relaxed and friendly and seemed to have forgotten that less than an hour ago he had been flailing the skin off her butt with a lethal paddle. Mr Humphries had just opened a second bottle of bubbly when a tap on the door interrupted them.

“Come in,” boomed the Grand Master.

The handle of the door turned and the door swung slowly open. Cathryn Cassidy stepped into the room. She was dressed in an extremely short gymslip and high heels. She wore a boater on her head at a jaunty angle.

Cathryn smiled enigmatically. “Excuse me for intruding Grand Master,” she said in an unconcerned drawl, “but I’m here to be caned.”

Cat Cassidy was a Woody legend. She had been amongst the first of the Celebrity Ladettes singled out by the Dark Agents of the System to be sent to the Big House.

Cat was the elder daughter of Chris and Caroline Cassidy. The Cassidy’s were popular gossip column fodder. Chris was a music mogul, generally credited with reviving the British jazz scene. His wife, Caroline, was a former super-model who had been once listed amongst the five most beautiful women in the world. The manor house they owned on a sprawling estate was the venue for some of the most exclusive social events of the year. Cat was brought up in a world peopled by jazz musicians who wore dark glasses twenty-four-seven, beat writers and poets, and a multitude of artists, models and photographers.

During Cat’s days at the strict Dartington Manor school she had garnered a reputation as the epitome of cool. Her total disregard for the rules earned her a school record for being caned. At weekends she was a prominent feature on the burgeoning Ladette party scene.

After leaving school she split her time between working at her father’s recording studio, learning the ropes of the business she would one day inherit and studying International Business Law at university. She was regularly photographed dancing late into the night at exclusive night clubs. Tall, dark and beautiful Cathryn Cassidy was the papparazzi’s dream. Unfortunately for Cat she was also the System’s dream.

The Dark Agents followed her everywhere, looking for opportunities. When none were forthcoming they manufactured evidence and arrested her under the cover of night. Cathryn was charged with Extreme Ladetting and denied access to a defense counsel. In a closed hearing of the System she was sentenced to seven years at the Back to School unit without the possibility of parole.

Chris and Caroline were outraged and bank-rolled an anti-System and ‘Free Cat’ campaign. Within days they appeared to have won sympathy for the movement. However, the System was ready to strike back.

They effectively diverted the ‘Free Cat’ campaign with the high-profile arrests of the Butcher Twins. Patsy and Lindsey Butcher were sprinters who had been selected to represent the country at the forthcoming Olympics. It came to the attention of the Dark Agents that the Amazonian Rastafarian twins were partial to attending all night blues in Ladbroke Grove. It was a simple matter to set up a bust and Patsy and Lindsey were swept up in a drugs raid.

The morning papers castigated the twins and demanded stiff sentences despite there being no evidence of them having been in possession of narcotics. The Great Unwashed immediately turned their attention from Cat’s plight and brayed for the twin’s heads on a platter. Despite their innocence Patsy and Lindsey were sent to the Big House.

Once the twins had been dispatched the System announced yet another high-profile arrest. Penelope Ann Evans, captain of the Olympic equestrian team, was reported to have failed a routine drug test. The public were outraged, so despite Penny Ann’s defense counsel providing concrete evidence that the Systems sample did not come from the famed rider she was also sentenced to the Woody Back to School unit.

Cat’s best friend and fellow Ladette was Melanie White, the daughter of a prominent heart surgeon. Just for good measure the System arrested Melons and made an example of her too.

Chris and Caroline Cassidy continued to lobby for Cat’s release but they were swimming in treacle. The wily Dark Agents of the System had clearly won public support and the ‘Free Cat’ slogan had changed to an indifferent ‘Who’s Cat’ attitude amongst the Great Unwashed.

Cathryn Cassidy refused to be cowed by the harsh circumstances she found herself in and soon teamed up with old party friends from the Extreme Ladetting circuit and began to draft her influential treatise ‘The Manifesto of Mega-Minxdom’.

Cathryn Cassidy was no longer officially an inmate of the facility. She had completed her seven years and been released on probation. However, in top secret consultation with the Grand Master Cat and two of her chums, Melanie White and Penelope Ann Evans, had elected to stay at the facility and study for their degrees on-line.

For the most part the arrangement was attractive. Cat would remain in close proximity to her long-time lover, Mark, a successful local business-man. Penny Ann would remain eligible to ride on the unit’s highly-regarded equestrian team and could continue her affair with Nicola Jane. Melanie figured that it was better to stay and hang-out with her chums than to stay on a college campus where she would be years older than the rest of the students.

The initial round of talks went without controversy. The three Old Gals would be allowed to wear civilian clothes, would no longer be required to obtain passes to leave the compound and were granted a relaxed curfew. They would be given well-appointed apartments in a large house in a secluded section of the grounds. Although they had no official duties or title they would be issued with an ashplant and were entitled to thrash any gal they deemed to need thrashing. The Old Gals wouldn’t have prearranged curriculums, just informal tutorials and lectures to assist them as they studied for their degrees.

There only remained one unresolved item on the agenda; the protocols that needed to be put in place regarding the disciplining of Old Gals.

Penny Ann and Melanie designated Cat as their spokesperson to attend a meeting that would enter Woody lore as the ‘Old Gals Whops and Clobber Summit.’

Cat, Melons and Penny Ann had taken the pragmatic approach that some degree of seat-sniffing was inevitable. Cat was entrusted with the task of damage limitation.

Over several bottles of 1997 Louis Roederer Cristal, Cathryn and the Grand Master sat down to thrash out the new guiding protocols for Old Gal Discipline.

Cathryn negotiated hard on behalf of the Old Gals.

“I suppose it’s finally all just come down to whops and clobber,” drawled Cat, “the question is how many whops and how much clobber?”

It was late into the night before Cathryn finally signed her name at the bottom of the Old Gal’s Whops and Clobber Charter. According to the Charter, in principle, the Old Gals would be disciplined as if they were an extension of the Elite. Cat skillfully won a number of concessions.

After she screwed the top back on her fountain pen she picked up her glass.

“Bottom’s up,” she grinned.

The Grand Master extended his glass. “How much your bottom is up and how often is now down to you,” he smiled.

Cathryn winked and lit a cigarette.

The following day the three Old Gals went to lunch at a Woody-friendly wine bar in the nearby town to review the Charter.

“Some negotiator you turned out to be,” Melons teased Cathryn. “I’d rather hoped that my seat-sniffing days were behind me.”

“So spank me,” giggled Cat.

“Don’t tempt fate,” laughed Penny Ann, “me and Nix might just take you up on that offer.”

“Hey,” said Cat in mock indignation, “these were not just your average everyday peace talks in the Middle East, this was serious stuff! This was whops and clobber we were negotiating!”

Melanie and Penelope Ann laughed. They raised their glasses to Cathryn. “Bottoms up, sister,” they toasted, “you did good.”

After several bottles of chardonnay the three Old Gals repaired to a local haberdashery to be fitted for new sets of clobber.

“It’s just a precautionary measure,” Cat assured them as she sashayed around in a microscopically small gymslip. Penny Ann and Melons burst out laughing.

“Yeah, rock on, Cat,” hooted Melanie. “I’ll bet you’re back in clobber before the months out.”

Cat stuck her tongue out. “It might even be a whole lot sooner than that,” she said enigmatically.

The Grand Master offered Cat a pre-beating drink. Jojo was impressed when she calmly reached into her blazer pocket, extracted a cigarette, put it in the corner of her mouth and lit it with an expensive looking lighter. Jojo and Cat were fast friends and Joanna knew that her pal was the epitome of cool. But there were limits. The Old Gal winked at the Grand Master.

Mr Humphries smiled indulgently.

Politely Joanna stood up and made ready to leave.

“Oh don’t leave on my account Jojo,” Cathryn said nonchalantly. “Sit down and have another drink.”

Jojo looked uncertain but Mr Humphries was already pouring more bubbly.

Cathryn Cassidy sipped her drink and finished her cigarette. “Ready when you are, sir,” she drawled. “Where do you want me?”

The Grand Master went to the tallboy and retrieved the wooden paddle that he had tested out on Joanna. He showed it to Cat.

“I just gave this little critter her maiden voyage,” he told her. “Miss Heyworth seemed quite impressed but it’s always good to seek a second opinion. Why don’t you bend over the desk and let’s see what you think.”

Jojo watched as Cathryn slipped off her blazer and folded it neatly. She placed the jacket on a convenient sofa and then placed her straw boater on top of it. She approached the desk unhurriedly, stopping briefly to tie her long dark hair into a pony tail. She leaned forward and slid her upper torso across the surface of the desk until her arms were dangling over the far side. She raised her hips slightly to allow the Grand Master to turn back the hem of her gymslip and roll down her navy blue bumbags.

Joanna watched sympathetically as the Grand Master raised the paddle in the air and then brought it down with a resounding crack. The wooden paddle immediately transformed Cathryn’s right buttock into a hot, glowing sunset. Joanna resisted the temptation to reach back and rub her own throbbing behind.

Mr Humphries beat Cathryn Cassidy soundly. The wooden paddle smacked downwards on alternate cheeks making Cat wriggle and squirm. However, when she rose and rearranged her clobber she showed no signs of distress and smiled cheerfully when the Grand Master handed her a drink.

“So, how would you rate my new acquisition?” the Grand Master asked jovially.

Cat smiled. “You could have taken Jojo’s word for it sir. You really didn’t need a second opinion.”

Cathryn swallowed down her drink and picked up her blazer and boater. “I’ll be cutting along now, sir, if you don’t mind. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

The Grand Master nodded. “Enjoy,” he told the Old Gal.

Jojo accepted the Grand Masters offer of one last drink for the ditch. She was unable to ascertain the reason that Cathryn had been sent up to be punished, as she seemed to be communicating with the Grand Master telepathically. Jojo sipped her drink while the Grand Master replaced the wooden paddle in the tallboy.

The inmates of the Back to School unit were beginning to appreciate that Mr Humphries was as different as night and day to his predecessor. Ms Lawton had run the facility like a military stockade, maintaining discipline by introducing ever more stringent rules, regulations and protocols. Towards the end of her tenure she had become a distant and forbidding figure who was only seen during assembly or when an inmate was sent up to her office for whops.

By contrast Mr Humphries spent a lot of time circulating amongst the inmates and seemed genuinely interested in their opinions regarding the administration of the unit. As she sipped her drink Jojo was flattered that the Grand Master seemed so interested in her views regarding a variety of aspects of life at the Back to School unit. She was quite relaxed by the time she left his office.

Cathryn Cassidy unfastened the top button of her blouse and loosened her tie. She turned around raising her skirt and rolling down her bumbags so that she could study her scarlet bottom in the mirror.

She let out a low whistle, “Good grief,” she muttered.

She unfastened the buttons on the shoulders of her gymslip and stepped out of it. She reached into her wardrobe and pulled out a black leather mini skirt. She grinned to herself; at least in a short time her boyfriend, Mark would be soothing her burning orbs with the help of Rosemary Booker’s mystical balms.

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

Another Woody Special – The Nixdown Collection

Adding to the growing collection of Toons, here’s a selection featuring the gloriously incorrigible and sometimes cranky Nixdown Nixon.

 

 

 

Despite it being the weekend and the middle of the night I am still up to my lugs in work so once again my apology for an abbreviated post … nonetheless for the rest of you it’s the weekend … so kick-back, have a good rummage about, open a bottle of red, white or splash out and have a mimosa, or all three … and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

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

Brand New and Red Hot! – Woody Toon 16 – The Politics of Clobber

After yesterday’s bumper turn-out to check out the eccentricities of the Dyke here’s another wild and whacky character you’re going to really love or hate … Miss Katie Beck … wonderfully captured by the illustrative skills of Dave Ell … poor old Debs, another very red bum! 

My thanks to Prefectd for his shout-out over at his great Spanked Hortic page.

Once again my apology for an abbreviated post but work is seriously encroaching on my time … nonetheless it’s the weekend … so kick-back, have a good rummage about, open a bottle of red, white or whatever your tipple might be … and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

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

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

Another Scorcher – Woody Toon 15 – Nixdown and the Dyke

Nixdown Nixon is famously promiscuous, infamously degenerate and makes no secret of her penchant for pain. Ms MacAllister, a.k.a. the Dyke, considers herself a bit of a swinger (especially with the Lochgelly Tawse) and is hankering after a little Nix Joy. Misguidedly she thinks that giving Nix a good whopping at the front of the lecture hall might further her cause. However, even Nix has standards as you will see.

Unfortunately work obligations continue to divert my attention but I think you will really love this fantastic interpretation by Dave Ell …. so kick-back, have a good rummage, open a bottle of red and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

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

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

Another Toon Teaser – Introducing Miss Katie Beck

No self-respecting government correctional institution would be complete without a heinous matron and Miss Katie Beck fulfills that role at the Woody Back to School Unit.

Katie is an ex-inmate who once served in the role of the unit’s most tyrannical Red-shirt. Upon her return she is assigned the task of ensuring that the inmate’s clobber is maintained in pristine condition. Even minor nicks or blemishes can earn a gal an early-morning trip to her office to have their circulation given a disagreeable kick-start courtesy of Katie’s infamous leather soled slippers … check back over the next forty-eight hours to see Katie Beck at her glorious best … until then have a good rummage around the site and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

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

A Toon Teaser – Introducing the Dyke

Just a little teaser from the forthcoming new and original Woody Toon 15, which introduces the eccentric Science Dame Ms MacAllister, a.k.a. the Dyke, into the proceedings.

Unfortunately work obligations continue to distract me from the important business of blogging but for anybody interested in a little pre-read before the full cartoon is posted on Friday just click here on The Dyke, George W and Reverse Defenestration to get a little background behind the creation of this mad-cap character (which personally I find quite amusing, even if I say so myself) … so enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

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

The Five Red Bums Award

We are pleased to honor artist and co-conspirator Dave Ell with the unique homage of receiving the first ever ‘Five Red Bums Order of Merit’.

Dave is a free-lance illustrator operating in glorious retirement from the beaches of Thailand; where else do Scouser’s go off to graze? He is currently deeply distressed about the performance of Liverpool FC who are having a bit of a rum run in the British Barclays Premier League so I thought I would cheer him up with the only award a Scouser is going to see this season.

Seriously though he is a fabulous artist and interpreter and it is a pleasure to collaborate with him … he is available for commission at dlodgy53@yahoo.co.uk and is very reasonably priced and very reliable.

We have two new absolutely brand new and original Toon’s ready for publication this weekend so mark your calendars … Bottoms Up! to all of you and especially Dave … RH

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

Another Woody Toon Special – The Jojo Collection

The character of Joanna Heyworth in the books is based upon my wife and muse My Beloved Jojo. Jojo is the archetypical mega-minx and she reigns supreme as the leader of the Woody Hall of Shame known as the Bottoms Up Table of Troublemakers amongst the Woody Wags.

Unfortunately work is the bane of the spanking man so I have to rush but here is a selection of out-takes from the Woody Toons featuring My Beloved Jojo … Although she does want it made clear that Jojo doesn’t rub! … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

 

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

A Woody Toon Special – The Debs Collection

Poor old Debs Morton always seems to be up to her bumbags in trouble. I think that this selection of frames from the Woody Toon’s amply illustrates the trials and tribulations of her poor beleaguered bum.

Debs misadventures began long before she was sentenced to seven years at the Woody Back to School Unit with the possibility of parole for Extreme Ladetting. In today’s extract from Volume 13 – The Fate of Woodys we find her pondering her past.

It’s Sunday so pour a mimosa, make a Bloody Mary and kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

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

D is for ?

Deborah Morton fastened the shoulder buttons of her gymslip and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing the garment as a result of the incident when she had given the Wart the bird and had been returned to full clobber for the rest of the year.

She had considered of availing of the good graces of the Grand Master and requesting that the punishment was withdrawn. Mr Humphries had been extraordinarily supportive and complimentary of her performance during the tribunal. However Deborah decided it would be unfair to take advantage of the situation and she would just have to grin and bear wearing the bib-topped gymslip for the foreseeable future.

On the front of the bib was a shield shaped badge with the letter ‘D’ stitched into it. Debs grinned to herself. It stood for Deborah, of course, but it could stand for so much else in her life.

Over a decade earlier Grand Dame Jennings had crossed through the grades for discipline on her school report and written ‘Deplorable’ in bright red ink. The harsh grading had been precipitated by a very hot and sweaty period of Deborah’s schooldays.

Debs had attended the exclusive Queensgate Academy which was renowned for its strict discipline. Deborah was academically gifted, a virtuoso clarinetist and of course the greatest tennis player of her generation. The soupcon of accomplishments could have caused her to be disliked had it not been for her other talent. She was without question the naughtiest girl in the school. In some ways Queensgate was similar to the Woody Back to School unit. The cane was used with great frequency and the pupils of the school had created their own whops culture. Debs’ role as Top of the Pops made her something of a cult hero.

Administration of discipline was the responsibility of a council of prefects known as the Posh. The Posh met every evening to pass judgment on girls who had been ‘Put on the Menu’ by the Dames.

Girls on the menu were offered the opportunity to plead guilty to the charges, enter into a plea bargain or to argue a defense.

During the last week of her fourth year at the school Deborah had established a new record when she was put on the menu by three separate Dames on the same day.

Even for a mind as brilliant as Deborah’s the prospect of entering three defenses was daunting. While she waited in the Tank, as the waiting room outside the Posh HQ was known, she toyed with her options.

When her name was finally called, she strode into the room and took up her position inside a three foot by three foot square that was taped to the floor and stood to attention.

The main body of the Posh was seated around the room in easy chairs. Two girls approached her. The President of Posh, the most senior girl in the school wore an ankle length ornately embroidered drape coat with a mandarin collar. The year’s president was none other than Pauline Gascoigne who would later serve as the Dame of Economics at the Woody Back to School unit. Beside her was her Sergeant-at-Arms.

“Miss Morton of the Fourth,” the sergeant addressed her. “You have been charged with Disobedience in the Second Degree. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty,” she answered without hesitation.

“Miss Morton of the Fourth you have been charged with Gross Insolence in the First Degree. How do you plead?” asked the sergeant.

Deborah licked her lips. She had the option to offer to plead guilty to a lesser offence of Insolence in the Second Degree. If the plea bargain was accepted she would receive a mandatory caning but most likely she would escape with as few as three or four pops of the ceremonial popping stick.

“Not guilty,” responded Deborah for a second time.

The Posh girls began to sit forward in their seats. When Deborah pleaded not guilty to a third charge the tension in the room was palpable.

Deborah took a deep breath. Her heart was pounding. During her four years at the academy Deborah had been put on the menu at a record making pace. She had learned the thrill of advocacy and despite the fact she had been popped more than any other girl she actually had an almost eighty five per cent success rate. However, despite her brilliance presenting three separate two minute defenses was going to be her greatest challenge ever.

Double Max

Deborah leaned back against the wall of the Tank. Two younger girls had already been called in and had reappeared grinning. They had either been found not guilty or had been given lesser punishments of lines, detentions or community service. A third girl was inside. If Deborah heard the cane being applied her fate would be sealed. However, the third girl reappeared with her bumbags unscathed. Deborah bit her lip. There were two older girls left in the Tank with her, if either one was called before her she would know that she was definitely in for a caning.

“Miss Wallace of the Fifth,” called the sergeant. Julie Wallace entered the HQ. Deborah listened intently; however, Julie also reappeared with her bumbags intact.

“Miss Cranfield of the Sixth,” called the Sergeant-at-Arms. Christy Cranfield stepped away from the wall. She and Deborah were tight and she gave Debs a sympathetic smile. When Christy went inside the Posh HQ Deborah waited with baited breath.

After a few moments she heard the crisp crack of the cane rebounding from Christy’s navy blues. Deborah counted the strokes. It was not good news. The explosive strokes of the cane echoed around the Tank six times. This did not bode well for Debs. The girls in the Tank were always called in the order of the number of strokes that they would receive. If an older girl had already got six Deborah had the feeling that things were about to get very hot and sweaty inside her bumbags.

“Miss Morton of the Fourth, you have entered a plea of not guilty of charges of Disobedience in the Second Degree,” said the Sergeant-at-Arms. “The Posh has deliberated and your defense has been successful. The charges are dismissed.”

Deborah resisted the impulse to grin.

“Miss Morton of the Fourth, you have entered a plea of not guilty of charges of Gross Insolence in the First Degree,” said the Sergeant-at-Arms. “The Posh has deliberated and your defense has been unsuccessful. You will receive nine pops of the ceremonial popping stick.”

Deborah tried not to flinch.

“Miss Morton of the Fourth, you have entered a plea of not guilty of charges of Disrespectful Behavior in the First Degree,” said the Sergeant-at-Arms. “The Posh has deliberated and your defense has been unsuccessful. You will receive nine pops of the ceremonial popping stick.”

Debs couldn’t help but grimace.

“However, due to the severity of these punishments you will receive nine strokes this evening and then return to the HQ after a twenty-four hour cooling down period,” continued the Sergeant-at-Arms. She turned to Pauline and helped the President out of her Posh coat and then handed her the ceremonial popping stick.

“Miss Morton of the Fourth, repair to the popping seat and prepare to be popped,” ordered the sergeant.

Deborah bent over the arm of the large over-stuffed leather armchair with her skirt turned back and waited to be caned. She couldn’t believe her bad luck. Nine strokes was the maximum that the Posh could sentence a girl to receive. Deborah Morton was quite certain that she was the first girl in history to receive a double max.

Earlier in the year Deborah had received her first maximum and had been deeply impressed. Debs had learned that no matter how hard they were delivered she could take a three or four stroke swishing without much inconvenience. It was painful of course but she could immediately go about her business with nothing more than a wriggle or a squirm.

Six of the best was a different animal. Deborah freely acknowledged that six was the perfect number for a caning. After a good, tight six she would feel that she had been appropriately punished. Her bottom would be hot and sore for a considerable period and the throbbing pulsations would be a constant reminder that she had just been thrashed.

Nine strokes was a different beast altogether. She had been totally unprepared for the exponential increase in the heat factor of the additional three strokes. It was the closest she had ever come to howling or blubbing.

It didn’t help that Pauline was an artiste. The President of Posh and Deborah were good friends and team-mates on the tennis team. Pauline always seemed relieved when Debs landed a not guilty verdict but nonetheless when she was required to beat her chum she was professional and businesslike.

The previous nine-stroke beating had been perfectly executed and had been a teeth-chattering, eye-watering experience for Debs. The aftermath had been sensational, Debs had retired to her study but it was hours before she could consider sitting down. Her flesh seemed to be sizzling and the deep under-burn made even the slightest movement excruciating.

Debs Morton gritted her teeth as Pauline tapped the ceremonial popping stick down once, twice and then thrice.

D is for Deplorable

Deborah was shocked to be summonsed before the Grand Dame. Grand Dame Jennings was a figurehead at the academy. Her primary function was to entice wealthy families to enroll their daughters at the exclusive school. She was rarely seen and to the best of Deborah’s knowledge no pupil aside from the President of Posh ever visited her quarters.

The interview was brief and disagreeable. The Grand Dame informed Deborah that in the future she would be required to carry with her a special disciplinary report card and at the end of each lesson the Dames would be required to grade her behavior. She would only be allowed three below average grades per week. In the event that she failed to maintain this standard she would be thrashed on Friday evenings without the opportunity to mount a defense.

The Grand Dame then proceeded to show Deborah her end-of-year report card with the word ‘Deplorable’ written in electric red ink.

Debs continued to stare at her reflection. Her behavior may have been deplorable but she was also remarkably disciplined. Her gifts were probably genetic. Her father was a Nobel Prize winning physicist.

Debs had learned to read young and devoured books on every subject. She learned to play the piano sitting in her mother’s lap and then migrated to the clarinet where she would become the youngest member of the National Youth Orchestra. Her ability to hit tennis balls had become apparent at an early age and after she had finished her homework, and practiced on the clarinet she would spend hours smashing tennis balls against a specially constructed training wall. At fourteen she became the national champion, unseating Rachel Cox who would later become an inmate at the Woody facility.

Despite her incongruous behavior traits she managed to publish a biography of Mary Queen of Scots and became the youngest applicant ever to be accepted at Camford on a non-scientific scholarship.

Deborah was bent over the popping seat with her skirt turned back. The effects of the previous night’s caning had not quite dissipated to the extent she would have liked. She had been truly impressed by the staying power of the thrashing. She had tried everything she knew to alleviate the irritation inside her bumbags. She had applied cold cream, icy wet flannels and even gone on a six mile run in an attempt to loosen things up.

The prospect of another nine-stroke-popping was unappealing in the extreme.

Deborah Morton had been embarrassed by Mr Armanisuit’s revelation that she was the most punished schoolgirl in recorded history but it didn’t surprise her. Her fifth year at the academy had been a disaster. During the complete academic year she had failed to achieve the minimum disciplinary standard prescribed by the Grand Dame and every Friday evening she was thrashed by the new President of Posh, Christy Cranfield.

Debs continued to be disciplined in her academic, artistic and sporting life and her behavior continued to be deplorable. The Grand Dame decreed that Deborah would be given the maximum of nine strokes until such time that she met the performance requirements. Friday nights were hot and sweaty. Christy and Debs were tight but the new President of Posh was given no alternative but to beat Debs with extreme prejudice. Grand Dame Jennings took the unusual precaution of personally coming to the Posh HQ to witness the Friday thrashings and ensure that Christy didn’t cut any slack. Debs was on a hiding to nothing.

Deborah straightened her tie in the mirror and looked herself up and down. Despite her athleticism she had always struggled with weight fluctuations. At five feet four she was not tall by professional tennis players’ standards and she was naturally curvaceous and rounded. She fastened her bright red house-sash around her waist and was pleased with what she saw. Recently her best chum, Rosemary Booker, had designed a new diet regime for Debs and it seemed to be working. Debs looked trim and even the unflattering gymslip seemed to show off her svelte figure to its best advantage. Debs smiled to herself.

D is for Debs

In the four years following her departure from the Queensgate Academy D unquestionably stood for Debs. It was almost impossible to open a newspaper or magazine without being greeted by a picture of Deborah Morton. With dogged determination and natural talent she ascended the Grand Prix ladder until at nineteen years old she was amongst the top ten female tennis players in the World.

The early years of Deborah’s professional tennis career were relatively uncontroversial. Her on-court manners were impeccable and her off-court articulation made her a spokesperson and ambassador for her generation. However, the wheels would suddenly fall off the wagon in Las Vegas.

Deborah had been invited to play in a high-dollar shoot-out at one of the city’s most extravagant hotels. Debs had never been to Vegas and was keen to explore the opulent night life the resort had to offer. Unfortunately Deborah had only recently celebrated her nineteenth birthday and the draconian federal laws would prohibit her from entering the casinos and bars of the city.

Unwisely Deborah contacted an old friend from her Queensgate days. Bernadette Summers knew about such things and was able to provide Debs with dodgy id that would satisfy the authorities.

Unbeknownst to Deborah she had long been featured on the System’s celebrity target list. She was classified as a warm target and only the subject of occasional surveillance. Occasionally her name would be mentioned in dispatches as a potential candidate for a trip to the Big House but unsportingly the Lawn Tennis Association offered the System a compromise and served them Rachel Cox’s bumbags on a platter.

Deborah’s Las Vegas sojourn might have gone unnoticed if she hadn’t won the one point five million dollar prize money. Paparazzi followed her everywhere and photographed her celebrating at Bellagio’s. Melissa Forsham-Smythe’s celebrity hit-team immediately upped her status to a hot prospect and the Dark Agents moved in.

Debs’ lawyers worked on a deal. She would be fined heavily by the Lawn Tennis Association and plead guilty to Misdemeanor Ladetting and would serve a two-year sentence at the Radcliffe Back to School unit. She would be allowed to continue to participate in European based competitions and represent the National Tennis team.

Deborah was pissed off and used her celebrity to publicly denounce the anti-Ladette laws. She won considerable public sympathy; however she had not taken into account the inordinate power and influence of Melissa Forsham-Smythe. Melissa was not about to allow a well-earned commission to be put in jeopardy by a whippersnapper like Debs and mobilized Armanisuit and his goons.

One of the terms of the deal thrashed out between Debs’ lawyers and the System was that prior to her starting her sentence at Radcliffe she would be subject to a strict midnight curfew. Despite her objections to the restrictive practice Deborah complied which pissed Melissa off royally.

Debs was at the summit of her success and for the first time she had reached the last four at Wimbledon. On the eve of her semi-final she had enjoyed a quiet dinner at a celebrity friendly restaurant with Christy Cranfield and Pauline Gascoigne. They had shared several dozen oysters and a bottle of wine while they reminisced about whops.

Deborah had left the restaurant at just after eleven with plenty of time to get back to her hotel and to get rested for her upcoming semi-final. She had started her car and driven off. After less than a hundred yards the car had inexplicably spluttered to a halt. Debs tried several times to restart the vehicle to no avail. Frustrated she got out and pushed the car up to the curb. She tried to start it one last time and without explanation the engine turned over perfectly.

Less than a hundred yards later the same thing happened. This time Debs waited a few minutes and when she turned the key the car started again. Frustratingly she barely made another hundred yards. She managed to move the car to a safe spot and decided to take a cab.

She called her probation officer to report her problem but got no response. It took almost half an hour to find a taxi and it was twelve fifteen before she arrived at her hotel.

The semi-final between Deborah Morton and Venus Saturn is considered to be one of the great games in history. A grueling brawl played in unseasonable heat, Deborah finally succumbed in a lengthy tie-break. Exhausted, she was packing her rackets when three Dark Agents of the System strode on court and roughly hand-cuffed her in front of hundreds of millions of television viewers.

Debs was taken to a secret silo of the System and charged with Extreme Ladetting for breaking curfew. The newspapers and news-stations owned by the Forsham-Smythe Corporation launched a virulent anti-Debs campaign calling her a degenerate and vilifying her as a bad example to British youth. Without being allowed a defense Deborah Morton was sentenced to seven years at the Big House without the possibility of parole.

At no time did the Forsham-Smythe newshounds mention the hard-boiled egg that had been discovered in the gas tank of Deborah’s vehicle, doubtless placed there by one of Armanisuit’s ruthless goons.

D is for Disgrace

Deborah ran her finger across the D embroidered on the cloth badge. It felt strange being back in the public eye. She was certainly Debs again but it was not her miraculous top-spin forehand cross-court passes or her uncanny ability to play backhand volleys with so much reverse spin that the ball would jump back towards the net that was garnering headlines; it was her bumbags.

Although the Grand Master had placed a moratorium on any member of the Brass or the inmates speaking to the press without the supervision of Jojo, the facilities spin doctor, the Forsham-Smythe hacks were relentless. Deborah’s old nemeses, Yvonne Godfrey and Janet Mitchell were happy to give great copy to the gutter rags.

Deborah’s chums tried to keep her from looking at the news but already the cartoonists were having a field day with the incident of the fabulous fart and running a daily series.

“She is a disgrace,” Mitch the Bitch had enthused to one newspaper. “Melissa Forsham-Smythe is absolutely right, Deborah Morton should be thrown in a cell and the key should be dropped in the moat. I did my best to control her but she is a degenerate.”

Rosemary came over to the mirror. “You shouldn’t read that stuff,” she scolded her chum. “They’re just taking advantage because you’re so famous.”

Debs grunted. “Not exactly the type of fame I aspire to,” she sighed, “but Nixdown will probably say I’ve planned this to get in the limelight.”

Rosemary giggled. “Nix is just a cynic but she loves you. Now sit down and let me brush your hair.”

Debs sat down. “Am I really such a disgrace?” she asked her chum.

“You know you’re not you old silly,” laughed Rosemary. “Look at that D on your chest. That stands for Debs.”

Deborah sighed. “I must be becoming institutionalized. I just want this whole thing over with and get back to a normal life. It’s come to something when I think of Woodys as a normal life.”

Rosemary just giggled and started to brush Deborah’s hair.

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