A Happy and Prosperous New Year to Y’all from the Woodys Gang

Wishing all our guests and friends in the community a fabulous and whop-filled New Year … Bottoms Up! … RH and Jojo

Welcome back to ‘The Spanking Universe’

Our thanks to Richard Windsor, the host of the spanking community project, ‘The Spanking Universe’, for resuscitating the site after he had been so rudely evicted by the morality gods of Blogger. Please take the time to update your link to the site and be sure to add links to the esteemed Richard Windsor’s other sites.

Also, my thanks to Brushstrokes, over at ‘The Spanking Spot’, for giving the unit a mention and directing some valued traffic in our direction.

RH is not a great one for making New Year’s resolutions (mostly because I rarely keep them) but I do have a few spanking-related objectives as we approach the new decade.

The early part of the year is scheduled to be very work-orientated but I will do my best to update the blog whenever I have time. I will continue to prepare new Toon briefings and commission more original works from my wonderful collaborator Dave Ell and hopefully Woodette Publications will make many more volumes of the Woody Back to School Unit saga available at our bookstore … so much to do and so little time to do it! … My sincere gratitude to everybody who has made this site a success and I hope that I will be able to sustain your interest in 2010 … have to run as the entourage is off out to quaff margaritas and eat fajitas at our local Mexican restaurant … Bottoms Up! … RH

Operation Scorched Arse

My thanks to the many guests who have stopped by during the festive season. I hope that you have had a good rummage around the site and have found plenty to entertain you in my absence. The next wave of house-guests has arrived and my amateur culinary skills are in full flow and ebb. However, I thought that I would take a few minutes and post a few chapters from Volume 2 of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Operation Scorched Arse’ … kick-back and enjoy … full service will resume in the near future … Bottoms Up! … RH

Ms Lawton reviewed the two punishment reports gloomily.

“You knew that Morton had been chucked out of assembly and had just received a mandatory bare bender, didn’t you?” she asked.

Ms Whitton grinned. “Oh yes,” she said smugly. “But you told me to beat her whenever the opportunity arose and she was late for orchestra practice so I gave her a damn good thrashing.”

The Grand Dame sighed. Theoretically the Music Dame was correct. When she had first initiated the harsh regime of Operation Scorched Arse she had specifically instructed the Dames to treat Deborah Morton with extreme prejudice. Nonetheless, as she looked over the two reports again she couldn’t help feeling that Ms Whitton had taken the definition of extreme prejudice to the limit.

“Morton, Phase 5, step up for goofing,” screeched Janet Mitchell, waving her red card in the air.

Deborah rolled her eyes and groaned. She slowly stood up and struggled passed her seated chums. At the end of the row of seats Mitch the Bitch was positively glowing with delight.

“Gotcha,” she gloated as Deborah approached. “And by the way, your tie’s undone,” she cackled.

Deborah groaned again.

She had been standing in disgrace at the front of the hall for almost ten minutes. She had done her best to look nonchalant but from the way she kept pursing her lips and drumming her fingers against the sides of her legs it was clear that she was nervous and agitated.

Debs heart began to pound uncomfortably as she heard the click-clack of heels in the corridor outside the hall. Momentarily the doors swung open and the first members of the Brass entered.

The first wave barely paid her any heed, although several of the liberals, including Dotty Hammell, Pauline Gascoigne, Stephanie Powell and Jane Lummell threw her sympathetic smiles. The last of the Brass to enter were the Wart and Patty Hodge. They strode purposefully towards her.

“Oh you’re going to make Ms Lawton’s day,” gloated the Wart. “I hope she thrashes you so hard you can’t sit down for a week.”

Deborah did her best not to flinch.

Patty grinned wolfishly and reached into her jacket pocket. She produced a red card and waved it in the air.

“Morton, Phase 5, red card for zero-tolerance collar and tie abuse,” she announced gleefully. “Make an appointment with Miss Beck for a mandatory slippering.”

Deborah felt her cheeks turn red.

Deborah Morton was sweating. The past twenty minutes had been most disagreeable. When Ms Lawton had arrived in the assembly hall she was plainly displeased to encounter Deborah and had made her feelings quite clear. She had verbally trashed Debs for several minutes before dismissing her with the ominous warning that she intended to beat her very, very soundly.

Katie Beck had been delighted to see Deborah. The unfortunate state of Debs collar and tie gave the unit’s matron the opportunity to subject her to a comprehensive clobber inspection.

Deborah was notoriously clobber challenged and was consistently ranked amongst the five worst dressed inmates at the facility.

Katie took her time. Deborah stood with her hands on her head as the matron inspected every stitch of her clobber. Katie was a true artiste when it came to inspection. She started at the front, working her way down every individual button, looking for chips, loose threads or signs of premature discoloration. She checked every seam of Deborah’s blouse and skirt. All the while she gave Debs a colorful commentary regarding the rump roasting she planned to give her the following morning.

Moving to the rear Katie was even more spiteful. She tut-tutted as she ran her fingers over more seams and muttered, “well, well and what have we here?” It was most disconcerting.

Bottom inspection was no better. Katie left Debs sprawled bare arsed across the desk in the ante-room for a full five minutes before she came in to prod and pinch her backside.

Finally Deborah was left to stand on the landing, her hands on her head and her nose pressed to the wall while she waited anxiously for the arrival of the Grand Dame. Deborah Morton couldn’t think of a more disagreeable way to start the day.

Deborah Morton was sweating. Ms Lawton was an extremely articulate woman by nature and was at her most expressive when it came to the subject of malfeasance. Unfortunately for Deborah her lengthy history of mega-minxdom gave the Grand Dame copious scope to wax eloquent. Forced to stand to stiff attention, eyes front and still as a statue Deborah had no alternative but to chow down on an unappetizing ration of tongue pie.

Deborah unfastened the top button of her red and black striped blazer and shrugged it off. She felt totally drained. She felt as if she had been mauled by a mountain lion. The eloquent condemnation of her general misbehavior had seemed interminable and Deborah was almost relieved when Ms Lawton finally stepped out from behind her desk and crossed the room to the tall-boy that housed her collection of canes. But the Grand Dame hadn’t quite finished. Deborah groaned inwardly as she was unexpectedly sucker-punched.

“And one more thing, Morton,” announced Ms Lawton as she selected a long thin cane and swished it through the air. “I’m about sick of your persistent collar and tie abuse. I’m going to instruct Katie to give you a double slippering in the morning. Now remove your blazer and bend over the chair.”

Deborah thrust her hands into the pockets of her blazer as she tottered out of the Grand Dames study. There was no question that Ms Lawton had made good on her promise and beaten Deborah very, very soundly. Debs felt as if smoke was billowing out from underneath her skirt. Over the years Deborah’s rear end had become a well-calibrated whopometer but she didn’t need to inspect any gauges to know that she had just been totally nailed.

Ms Lawton took several deep breathes. Deborah was folded over the straight-backed chair in front of the fireplace. The skirt of her skirt and the tail of her blouse were meticulously folded back. Her navy blue gossamer bumbags were concertinaed around her ankles.

The Grand Dame took a tight grip on the thirty-six inch long cane and tapped it downwards.

Ms Lawton prided herself on her even-handedness. She came from the school of hard-whops and knew from bitter experience what it was like to be personally targeted. During the first four years of Deborah’s sentence she had been sympathetic towards her celebrity inmate. She had suspected that Deborah’s spectacular arrest and subsequent trashing in the press had been government vehicles to distract attention from yet another economic folly.

She had admired Deborah’s intellect, musical prowess and sporting brilliance. Despite Deborah’s natural tendency towards naughtiness the Grand Dame had indulged her and treated her as the golden gal. However, all that had changed in one trivial moment of collar and tie abuse and the events that succeeded it. No matter how hard she tried the Grand Dame was forced to concede that Deborah Morton had made a dizzying descent to the role of her personal bête noire.

She raised her arm slightly higher than normal and whipped the rattan rod through the air.

Deborah was having considerable difficulty putting it up and keeping it up. Ms Lawton always caned hard but this morning she was really putting her arm into it and every full-bloodied swipe made Debs teeth-chatter and her nerve-endings jangle. It took all her grit and determination to keep from howling.

Despite their differences Ms Lawton had considerable respect for Deborah’s ability to take a licking with the minimum of fuss. She waited patiently between strokes, confident that Deborah would eventually settle back into the required position for the thrashing to proceed. Nonetheless, she could tell from the protracted wiggling and jiggling of Deborah’s buttocks and the heartfelt pants she could hear her victim emitting that she had thoroughly nailed Debs Morton.

Debs wriggled through the corridors, her arse on fire. It was Saturday morning and she needed to go to her study and pick up her clarinet for orchestra practice.

She crossed the quadrangle and making sure that there were no prefects lurking about she slipped behind the accommodation wing and sought out Rosemary’s cigarette stash pile. Debs didn’t really smoke, just one or two a week when she was feeling stressed and with her bum blazing like a furnace she was feeling particularly stressed.

She sucked down on the fag and looked down at her watch. The visit with Ms Lawton had been so protracted that she had missed almost half the practice. Nonetheless she wasn’t too concerned. The piece that Ms Whitton had chosen for the recital was familiar and the last two rehearsals had gone swimmingly. She stubbed out her fag and flicked it into a nearby compost heap.

She headed back to the front door of the accommodation wing to fetch her clarinet and wished that her arse didn’t burn so ferociously.

“I’m sorry I’m late Ma’am,” Deborah muttered and hurried towards the empty seat amongst the orchestra.

“Where do you think you’re going?” snapped Ms Whitton.

“To take my place Ma’am,” responded Debs.

“Oh no you don’t young lady, you will repair to the music room and bring me the Morton Special” said the Music Dame.

Deborah gaped at the instructor incredulously. “Whadaya mean?” she spluttered.

“You’re late,” said Ms Whitton imperiously. “Mandatory six of the best.”

Debs continued to gape. “But you know why I’m late,” she gasped. “I was in the Grand Dame’s study.”

“That’s no excuse, this whole rehearsal has been a fiasco due to your selfish behavior,” retorted Ms Whitton, “now do as you’re told and bring me my bow.”

“This is ridiculous,” Debs snapped back. “You’re not going to beat me for this.”

“Are you refusing to obey me?” asked Ms Whitton.

“You’re damn right I am,” said Debs obstinately.

“Very well Morton, I shall send someone else to fetch the bow and in the meantime I shall summons Jacqueline Ivanhoe and Yvonne Godfrey and I will have you held down.”

The tension in the Great Hall was palpable.

“You rotten fucking bitch,” Debs blurted out. “This is so fucking bogus.”

“I’ll count to five Miss Morton, it’s your choice.”

Deborah trudged through the corridors carrying the wooden violin bow that Ms Whitton had commissioned for the sole purpose of beating her. Her mind was racing; the heat in her backside was showing no signs of diminishing. The prospect of being thrashed with the customized rod was unthinkable.

Deborah desperately fought back her tears. The pain was excruciating. She was sprawled out across a low lying piano stool, her arms and legs stretched out into a full drape, her head well down and her arse well up. She sensed the Music Dame stepping in for the final swipe and squeezed her eyes tight.

Ms Whitton was a burly cove and was notorious for the venom with which she wielded the violin bow. When she commissioned the particular bow that she was wielding from a purveyor in Southern Brazil she had specified an unusual stiffness for the shaft, explaining that it was for display purposes only. It was a truly lethal weapon.

Deborah’s whole body reacted uncontrollably. Her legs kicked back, her hands gripped her head and she writhed so much that she almost rolled off the stool. It was a tremendous strike. The echo of wood rebounding off tautened gossamer reverberated around the far corners of the hall.

Debs looked ashen as she handed over her personal punishment record book for post-processing. The collar and tie that she had restored to a non-abusive condition was now skew-whiff. Her hair looked unkempt and the light trace of mascara she was allowed to wear was smudged across her face.

Wordlessly Ms Whitton annotated the book and then without warning she pointed back at the stool. “Now bend over again,” she said curtly.

Debs mouth opened and her chin wagged but no sounds came out.

“You cussed me out,” snapped Ms Whitton, “now bend over or I shall have you collared and taken up to the Grand Dames and demand you are given a public flogging.”

Deborah Morton gaped at the music instructor. For a moment she said nothing and remained glued to the spot. Then finally she glared defiantly at Ms Whitton.

“You’ll never make me howl and you’ll never make me blub,” she said rebelliously and then hopelessly she leaned down and stretched her body out across the stool.

Ms Lawton removed the cap of her pen and wearily signed her name at the bottom of the two punishment reports. Ms Whitton was looking positively smug as she strutted out of the door. The Grand Dame sighed and put her head in her hands.

“Extreme prejudice,” chortled Ms Whitton in the saloon bar of the Bunch of Grapes. “I redefined extreme. Morton won’t be sitting down comfortably for a month.”

“Good work,” saluted Patty Hodge. She raised her glass in the air. “To Operation Scorched Arse and may it never end.”

Katie Beck, the Wart and Ms Whitton chinked glasses and winked conspiratorially.

The Woody Back to School Unit Christmas Concert

Cooking a turkey is no different from delivering a damn good spanking, if it’s going to be done perfectly then it just takes time and patience … eventually the bird will roast! … Man! That was deep! … but as it is Christmas check out the Woody Christmas concert  and our complete Christmas Toon collection … Bottoms Up! … RH

Bottoms Up from the Woody Gang

My Beloved Jojo and I wish you all our guests the very best for a Happy Christmas and a prosperous New Year.

I’d like to extend a special thanks and my admiration for my friend and collaborator the fabulous illustrator Dave Ell. Dave may be a Scouser but he is still very conscientious and hard-working. He has taken my briefs and breathed life into them, so I thought it would be great to put together a single Toon showing all the many characters he has drawn over the past few months … so without further ado here it is … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

Seasons Greetings from Jojo and Mr Humphries

Happy Holidays from Rosemary, Nixdown and Debs

The holiday season is upon us and family and friends are arriving at Chez Humphries so the Woody Back to School Unit will be taking a short furlough … but first here are some special and original Woody greetings from some of the gang … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

 

The Famous Four – The Deborah Morton Story

Deborah ‘Debs’ Morton … A former professional tennis player and internationally renowned clarinetist. Her sensational arrest by the Dark Agents of the System on the center court at Wimbledon was witnessed by millions of TV viewers around the World.

Long before she embarked upon her seven-year sentence at the Woody facility Debs was intimately familiar with the ominous sound of whippy rattan cutting through the air behind her.

She was schooled at the prestigious but ultra-strict Queensgate Academy, where she was a prolific over-achiever. She routinely scored 158 on the Cattell III B IQ test and was the youngest student ever to be accepted at Camford on a non-scientific based scholarship. At fifteen she published a well received fictional biography of Ann Boleyn’s last night titled ‘Waiting to be Beheaded’. She played clarinet in the National Youth Orchestra and at the age of fifteen she dethroned Rachel Cox as the nation’s number one female tennis player.

Nonetheless, despite these achievements it was her disastrous disciplinary record that attracted the most attention. The Dames at the esteemed academy considered themselves far too refined to actually administer discipline themselves. They practiced a policy whereby miscreant pupils were ‘Put on the Menu’. Gals on the menu were required to present their defenses before the school’s prefectorial body known as the Posh. The Posh had a number of penalties available to them ranging from detentions, impositions, hours of community service, or, in the worst cases, a thrashing with a thirty-six inch long rattan cane known as the ceremonial popping stick.

Deborah suffered from a chronically hyper-active naughty gene and shortly after she entered the acadamy she found herself becoming a regular feature on the evening menu. Deborah chose to practice a potentially reckless and dangerous policy. She refused to plead guilty to any charges, relying on her quick wits and silver-tongue to create enough reasonable doubt in the minds of the Posh to force them to exonerate her. In fairness it was not an altogether unsuccessful strategy. During her first four years at the academy she appeared before the Posh on hundreds of occasions and avoided being sentenced to any form of punishment at an impressive eighty-five per cent of her appearances.

However, her strategy also had a painful downside. According to the rules of the Posh if a gal pleaded not guilty, or refused to enter into a plea bargain, and was eventually unsuccessful in her defense she received a mandatory swishing. Each year as her behavior deteriorated and her appearances before the Posh increased the number of canings Deborah received began to escalate along with the severity of the penalties she attracted.

In her diaries Deborah comments that, “Ma always said that they would beat some sense into me. Well she was certainly right about the beating part but I think they failed on the sense end of the equation”.

Towards the end of her fourth year at the academy she would meet her Armageddon. She established a new record by being ‘Put on the Menu’ by three separate Dames on the same day. With typical bravado Deborah pleaded not guilty to all three charges. She experienced a brief glimmer of hope when it was announced that her first defense was successful but then it went pear-shaped in a heartbeat. She was found guilty on both the other two charges and sentenced to the maximum allowable punishment of nine strokes of the ceremonial popping stick for each offence. The punishments would be administered on successive days with a twenty-four hour cooling off period between them.

It would prove to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. The Grand Dame was determined to curb Deborah’s serial misbehavior and placed her in a special disciplinary program. At the end of each lesson the Dames were required to rank her conduct on a scale of A through E. She was warned that if she scored more than three below average conduct scores in a single week she would be subjected to a mandatory thrashing. The program was not a success and every single Friday evening throughout the school year Deborah Morton was required to report to the Posh HQ where she would bend over the ceremonial popping seat so that she could be beaten by the most senior gal in the school, known as the President of Posh.

By the time she left Queensgate Deborah had been beaten on eighty-three separate occasions and she would gain a certain historical infamy for achieving the unenviable record of being listed in Ministry of Education records dating back to 1850 as the most caned student in national history.

At sixteen years old she was the undisputed number one female tennis player in the country and elected to abandon her education and try her luck on the professional circuit. Standing only five-feet four-inches in stockinged feet she was considered small by the standards of professional tennis players but she soon gained a reputation as a fierce competitor with remarkable concentration and stamina. She favored a deep game, playing from behind the baseline that gave her time to zing her cross-court drives into the far corners of the opponent’s court with uncanny accuracy.

Her dogged determination paid off and at eighteen years old she had climbed into the rankings of the top ten players in the world. She was also rich and famous and amongst the most photographed women in the nation. Along the way, after she had crushed a highly fancied opponent, a journalist had dubbed her ‘Dynamite Debs’; the abbreviation had stuck and she became known universally simply as Debs.

At twenty-years old she was ranked number three in the world and highly sought after to make exhibition appearances. She was invited to appear at the opening of a Las Vegas hotel and play the world’s number one, Saturn Venus, in a one point five million dollar shoot-out. Debs unexpectedly prevailed in a grueling three-setter; it was a victory that would set off a series of events that would prove highly detrimental to the future of her bumbags.

Aware of the restrictive drinking-age laws in Las Vegas the twenty-year old celebrity had secured some dodgy ID from her old school friend, the Bounder. She was photographed sipping a margarita and playing roulette at the Bellagio. The photograph made the gossip pages of newspapers around the world.

The Las Vegas authorities sensibly turned a blind eye and she only received a minor reprimand from the governing tennis bodies, along with a small fine and a two-week suspension for ‘bringing the game into disrepute’. As far as Debs was concerned the matter was closed and she took off on a short holiday.

However, the Dark Agents of the System were always on the look-out for fresh celebrity blood. A million pound bounty was attached to her bumbags.

Upon her return from vacation she was astonished to be arrested and charged with ‘Extreme Ladetting’. Her lawyers worked assiduously in her defense and the lawn tennis association interceded on her behalf. A year earlier they had been forced to sacrifice Debs old rival, Rachel Cox’s, bumbags to a seven year sentence and they argued that it was not in the national interest to lose their number one player. A deal was finally thrashed out and the charges were reduced to ‘Misdemeanor Ladetting’ on the condition that she agreed to a two-year sentence at the lower security Radcliffe Back to School Unit. She would be allowed to play in several tournaments as long as she was chaperoned by a Court Appointed Guardian. Debs had little choice but to agree to the terms.

The last tournament that she would be eligible to play in before starting her sentence was at Wimbledon. During the past two years she had twice reached the quarter finals at the tournament before succumbing. She felt fit and on the top of her form, she had high hopes for the competition.

The nation was captivated as she fought her way to the semi-finals, the first British female to progress as far for over a quarter of a century. She was pitched against her old adversary Saturn Venus. The match is often recalled as one of the finest in Wimbledon’s history. Finally after several hours Saturn managed to overcome Debs resilient defenses to win a place in the final.

The two competitors were shaking hands at the net when two Dark Agents appeared on court brandishing handcuffs. In front of millions of viewers Debs was arrested and led away in bracelets.

She was taken to a secret silo of the System. She was informed that the previous evening she had broken curfew and that the Misdemeanor Ladetting charges were off the table. She was denied counsel or the opportunity to offer a defense. Within hours Debs Morton was at a haberdashery being fitted for clobber.

The charges were entirely bogus but it was not until many years later that the truth would emerge. The Dark Agents had been disillusioned by the paltry ten per-cent of the larger bounty that they had received due to her reduced sentence. On the eve of the semi-final they had tampered with her car while she was enjoying a quiet dinner with friends. With her car disabled she had been forced to seek a cab but had arrived back at her hotel a few minutes after the midnight curfew. She had taken the precaution of calling her Court Appointed Guardian and informing him of her circumstances but he was unavailable. She had left him a voice mail. This evidence was not introduced at her hearing. For a million squids Debs Morton had been stitched up like a kipper.

Out of all of the Famous Four, Debs was best-equipped for the austere rigors of life at the Woody Back to School Unit. In many ways it resembled the Queensgate Academy with its many rules, regulations, protocols and rituals. She was amazed by the facilities available on the sprawling campus and the comprehensive and advanced academic program that Ms Lawton had put in place. She settled in quickly.

However, it was not long before her naughty gene would reemerge and she reverted to her old practices of persistent gabbing, goofing, larking and pranking. After a four year cool-arse sabbatical Debs soon found herself back in the familiar position of having her arse higher than her head.

It was the policy at the facility that during their first year of incarceration the inmates would be routinely punished with over the knee hand spankings. Ms Lawton’s philosophy was that she was charged with socially rehabilitating the nation’s most extreme and rambunctious Ladettes and there was nothing better than a good old-fashioned over the knee bumbag dusting to curb their high-spirits and put them in their place.

Much as she disliked being turned over the knees of the Brass and Elite, after five years of being caned at Queensgate, Debs found the spankings nothing more than a minor inconvenience. She had been befriended by Rosemary, Jojo and Nix and the four chums were highly competitive when it came to the fine art of minxing. By the end of their first year the four chums had established the record as the four most spanked Little Brats in the unit’s history and were universally known around the campus as the Famous Four.

During the first year of her sentence Deborah also became reacquainted with the cane. Having inducted Jojo as the first member of the ‘Beaten Brat Society’ Ms Lawton felt compelled to extend the membership to Debs.

When the Grand Dame had announced that she wished to see Deborah in her office immediately after morning assembly Debs had suspected something was afoot. The use of the word ‘immediately’ was widely understood to be a coded warning that the Grand Dame’s visitor could expect the cane.

When Jojo had received her first caning it had been limited to three strokes, so when Debs reported to Ms Lawton’s office she naturally assumed that she would receive the same treatment. The prospect of being caned again was hardly thrilling but Debs was pragmatic, back at Queensgate the wags had called a threer half a caning. It would smart a bit she figured but she would just suck it up and go on about her business.

Debs was a little miffed the Beak informed her that she had studied her school record and that she didn’t feel that a mere three strokes would have the desired effect and that she intended to give her six of the best.

In some ways Debs was flattered that she was getting more strokes than Jojo. The two chums were highly competitive when it came to whops. Debs was secretly gloating as she bent over the back of the straight backed chair in Ms Lawton’s office.

A few weeks later Debs was mildly miffed when Jojo trumped her. The first two canings had been delivered with the gals bumbags retained. When Jojo was summonsed back for a second dose she became the first Little Brat to receive a six stroke bare bender.

It was a pattern that would repeat itself over the coming years. No matter how hard Debs tried every year Jojo would emerge as the Annual Big BUTT. Debs coveted the title but in private moments would predict that she was destined to always be the bridegroom but never the bride.

Not that Debs had any difficulty in establishing her own mythology and place in Woody lore. She was mercurial and unpredictable by nature and suffered from an acute case of compulsive impulsive behavior syndrome. She had a very unfortunate tendency for inspiring considerable spontaneous ire amongst the Brass and Elite often with spectacular consequences.

On one occasion she irritated the Red-shirt du jour, Liz Lancelot, so greatly that the prefect dragged her over her knee and spanked her in the middle of the crowded recreation area. When Debs foolishly responded by laughing at Elizabeth and muttering ‘didn’t hurt’ the Red-shirt pinned her down across the rim of a fountain, secured a plimsoll and roasted her rump while water from Neptune and his disciples rained down on her head.

On another occasion Ms Lummell dragged her out of the bleachers, slammed her down across a table tennis table and gave her a resounding spanking with a ping pong paddle in front of the startled members of the visiting team.

Perhaps her most famous and infamous moment was an incident known amongst the Woody Wags as ‘the Fabulous Fart’. When she chose to unleash a gargantuan guff Ms Whitton upended her in front of the choir, dragged down her bumbags and gave her a prolonged whipping with a conductor’s baton. It was not amongst Debs Morton’s proudest moments.

She also had an unfortunate habit of making dangerous enemies including Ms Whitton, Patty Hodge, the Wart, Yvonne Godfrey and Mitch the Bitch. She suffered a dizzying fall from Ms Lawton’s grace after she had responded belligerently to being punished for a minor clobber misdemeanor. She was declared Public Enemy Number One and targeted as a hostile. She spent a difficult year with a large target painted on her bumbags. Her personal annus horribilis culminated in her disastrously being chucked out of the chapel on family visitation day, and she also became the first inmate in the unit’s history to be formally flunked for discipline. Her formal flunking would have an unfortunate side-effect.

Chez Morton of Deborah’s youth had been a spank-free zone. Ma Morton was a great believer that corporal punishment should remain in the classroom. However after Debs was formally flunked Ma received a surprise parcel from an old school-friend Ma Brooks. The gift-wrapped box contained a long-handled, oval-headed, wood-backed hairbrush and a note advising Debs mother that ‘there was no problem that can’t be solved with a red bottom’.

The following day at Deborah’s formal flunking hearing in front of the System Ma learned the wisdom of those words. The Dark Agents were cruelly advocating that Debs was reverted to the status of a Little Brat and forced to repeat her complete sentence. This was devastating news for Debs as it would dash any remaining hopes of returning to the professional tennis circuit. In act of inspiration Ma stepped in and saved the day. She put Deborah over her knee and delivered a long and juicy spanking with her newly acquired hairbrush. She promised the panel of Dark Agents that she intended to extend Deborah’s social rehabilitation program during furloughs. The Dark Agents were duly impressed and Deborah escaped without punishment; but at twenty-six years old Deborah Morton found herself introduced to the rigors of domestic discipline.

With the arrival of Mr Humphries as Grand Master of the facility Deborah’s fortunes took a turn for the better. He rescinded her status as Public Enemy Number One and outlawed hostile targeting. After Ms Whitton gave her an umpteenth unwarranted beating with the customized violin bow known as the Morton Special he had her arrested and thrown in chokey.

Life was good for Debs but it was not without its controversial moments. Her persistent misbehavior in the assembly hall finally resulted in her being hauled up onto the stage and given a public spanking. She also became embroiled in a squalid disagreement with Lady Victoria Brompton which resulted in her being taken to the library and treated to a ferocious bare-bottom, hair-brush spanking in front of the assembled Elite.

Fortunately Debs and Vix finally kissed and made up. Victoria first promoted Debs to act as captain of the Red-house and then appointed her to act as Deputy Red-shirt. Later she would be instrumental in securing Deborah’s appointment to the all-powerful position of Red-shirt.

Debs has impressed everybody with the level-headed and even-handed manner that she prosecutes her duties as Red-shirt and seems destined to be remembered as one of the all-time greats.

However Debs being Debs her tenure has been colorful. She has established records as both the most beaten Member of the Elite, and Red-shirt in the unit’s history. She is the only Red-shirt to ever receive a public flogging while in office.

Debs is currently dating a Spanish flamenco guitarist called Pablo. He has made several overtures of marriage. So far she has resisted despite the fact that he puts her over his knee and spanks her every-time she declines.

Debs Morton is scheduled to compete at Wimbledon shortly after her release. She is currently unseeded and considered a rank outsider but you can never tell with the mercurial Miss Morton … 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 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 Famous Four – The Rosemary Booker Story

Rosemary Booker … Earth Mother to the inmates … before being banged up at the facility Rosie was an internet entrepreneur who sold a range of mystical potions known as Booker’s Balms … she gained public recognition when she was voted ‘Rear of the Year’ in tribute to her notable protuberance. Sensing a red-hot marketing opportunity Rosemary goes on the chat-show circuit where she cheerfully shows off her award-winning rear end encased in skin tight jeans with ‘Booker’s Bum’ prominently embroidered across the seat.

After she is voted ‘Young Internet Entrepreneur’ of the year an unscrupulous company owned by the shadowy billionairess Melissa Forsham-Smythe attempts to purchase Bookers Balms. Rosemary learns that the company intends to transfer the manufacture of the products to areas of the world known for abuse of the child-labor laws and low standards of quality control; she refuses the offer.

Unbeknownst to Rosemary Melissa Forsham-Smythe is the secret puppeteer of an arm of the System known as the ‘Celebrity Goon Squad’. Incensed by Rosemary’s stubborn refusal to sell-out she arranges for a bounty to be placed on Rosemary’s bumbags. Unfortunately for Melissa Rosemary is a quiet cove who is rarely seen dancing on tables at night-spots frequented by the Extreme Ladettes. The Dark Agents are temporarily thwarted in their efforts to secure the bounty.

However, during an interview on a widely viewed TV chat-show Rosemary was asked her opinion of the famously public arrest of the tennis player, Debs Morton. She responded that in her opinion the governments highly publicized ‘Purge of the Extreme Ladettes’ was just plain daft. She was stunned to be served with a summons to appear before a hearing of the System to explain her controversial comment.

Rosemary’s lawyers assured her that the hearing was just a formality. On the eve of the hearing Rosemary stayed at her laboratory working on a new formula for a mystical balm and did not go home until long into the night. As a result she over-slept and was awoken by the sound of her front-door being broken down and her house being swarmed by Dark Agents. She was handcuffed and paraded through the streets in her pajamas in front of reporters and camera-men from the Forsham-Smythe communications network.

Rosemary was charged with ‘Subversive activities and promotion of the Extreme Ladette culture’. She was sentenced to spend seven-years at the Woody Back to School Unit. Her assets were seized and Melissa purchased the company for a few bobs on the squid in an unadvertised auction.

At Woodys she gained instant fame when following her first ferocious spanking she nonchalantly shrugged and surprised her fellow inmates by declaring that she didn’t know what all the fuss was about, after all, ‘it was only whops,’ … her proclamation immediately became the siren mantra of the mega-minxes.

During her sentence she concentrated on perfecting potions designed to alleviate the after-effects of the well-spanked bum … every year hundreds of grateful gals laid themselves out across her lap to have their poor beleaguered bums anointed with her healing balms. The Bounder hounded her to offer the soothing balms at commercial rates but Rosemary refused and continues to provide her mystical balms gratis to the inmates.

For years her apparent insouciance to pain made her a cult-heroine but during the legendary ‘Brooks vs. Booker’ bout during the Great Spank-off she had an unfortunate awakening … startled by the effects of a leather-faced ping-pong paddle pounding her formidable rear end she was forced to concede that ‘whops hurt!’ and conceded the contest … Following her unfortunate revelation she vowed to keep her bumbags out of the firing line of fast moving canes, straps and slippers … nonetheless as a die-hard mega-minx and suffering from chronic clobber-challenges Miss Booker’s well-filled bumbags continue to remain a major attraction to the Whop Junkies on the Radical Right.

Rosemary is currently engaged in an on-line romance with a cyber-lothario known as the Silver Fox. She regularly sends him digital photographic evidence of the aftermath of her encounters with the Woody artillery. There is considerable speculation on the Woody gossvine that they intend to marry upon Rosemary’s release from the unit.

Tomorrow I will complete this series of features on the Famous Four with the life and times of Miss Deborah Morton … until then … 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 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 Famous Four – The Nixdown Story

Nicola Jane ‘Nixdown’ Nixon … The unit’s self-proclaimed degenerate was no stranger to trouble long before she started her sentence at the Woody Back to School Unit. The daughter of a controversial auteur whose films were generally only screened in the art-houses of Amsterdam, Paris, Rome and Copenhagen she was brought up surrounded by poets, artists and actors. She discovered her taste for the exotic at an early age.

As was the trend with her generation she was shipped off to boarding school to be trained in etiquette and deportment, neither of which she put much value in. Wildly advanced and already borderline promiscuous she earned considerable squids teaching her fellow students the finer arts of french kissing and cunnilingus.

Nicola Jane was belligerent, anti-authoritarian and often downright rude. The refined Dames of the prestigious institute frequently resorted to caning her. Nicola Jane had a profound dislike of being corporally punished and often retaliated by hacking the Dames in the shins or poking them in the eye with her manicured finger-nails.

She was often threatened with expulsion but her wealthy father always intervened donating a new library and an extension to the chemistry lab to avoid his daughters bumbags being booted out onto the street.

However his fortune was unable to save her after she retaliated to another caning by fire-bombing the Headmistress’s car. She was charged with arson and dispatched to finish her education at a state-run reformatory.

Upon her release she began to make music videos and gained some notoriety for their risqué content. She teamed up with her equestrian chum Jojo Heyworth and launched a highly successful multi-media production company.

One evening she arranged to have dinner with a camera-man. He was furious when she arrived several hours late and offered no form of apology. He yanked her over his knees and gave her a damn good spanking. Predictably Nicola Jane did not respond well and slapped his face and hacked him in the shins before stomping out of the flat.

However once she had returned home she found herself curiously aroused by the experience and returned to camera-mans flat and insisted that he Rodger her eyes out.

Her videos began to take on a distinctly BDSM flavor and she often featured herself in the more erotic scenes. She sought out spanking partners of either sex and discovered that she had a penchant for pain in the recreational arena.

Unfortunately the success of her venture with Jojo had attracted the attention of the Dark Agents of the System and a bounty had been placed on her bumbags. The two women were arrested on bogus charges and at twenty-one years old the successful video producer found herself being carted off to a haberdashery to be fitted out for clobber.

Nicola Jane had an unfortunate start to her seven year sentence at the Woody Back to School Unit. She was assigned to grub for the newly-appointed Red-shirt, Katie Beck. Nicola Jane would not have been temperamentally inclined towards grubbing in the best of circumstances so being assigned to act as the personal serf to the cruel and sadistic Katie did not bode for a harmonious relationship.

Katie Beck draped Nicola Jane over her lap and dusted her on a daily basis. When Nicola Jane characteristically responded with a shin-hacking Katie often dragged her over her knees for a second time and illegally yanked her knickers (bumbags) down earning NJ the nickname of Nixdown.

As Nixdown progressed through her sentence she became a respected luminary amongst the subterranean cult of the Mega-minxes. Her glowering belligerence and tendency towards insolence made her a prime target for the whop junkie elements of the Brass and the Elite. Nixdown Nixon was a permanent feature amongst the top ten of the Hall of Shame.

Although Nixdown continued to strongly object to being formally punished she pursued her private penchant for pain passionately. She gained a reputation for rampant promiscuity and targeted senior members of the Elite as her play-mates. Beautiful and beguilingly charming Nixdown was rarely refused. Her late-night trysts in the stables were the worst kept secrets in Woody World.

When Nixdown seduced Penelope Ann Evans nobody expected much to come of it. Penny Ann was the quintessential English rose and quite shy and retiring by nature. Nix by contrast was wild and flamboyant and by some peoples judgment quite possibly certifiably barking.

Penny Ann had been thrust into the spotlight as the surprise appointment as Red-shirt and was having a miserable time of it. She was forced to try to control the units most heinous Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers commanded by the evil Yvonne Godfrey. Penny Ann would have been much happier just be left to tend to her horses.

Penny Ann was an expert equestrian and had captained the championship team that had included Nixdown and Jojo before she was sent to Woodys on bogus drug charges. She had always admired the miniscule blond bombshell but was far too shy to make any overtures. When Nixdown seduced her Penny Ann fell head over heels in love.

Pen’s chums worried for her. Nixdown’s reputation preceded her. It was well known that Nix regularly engaged in ménage et trios’ with the Amazonian Rastafarian Butcher Twins, and was also bedding down with Melons and her gargantuan gazonkas. It was widely suspected that Nixdown merely viewed Penny Ann as another Elite scalp to hang from the elastic waistband of her bumbags. They were certain that Penny Ann’s heart would soon be broken.

Nixdown astonished everyone by abandoning her other lovers and being faithful to Penny Ann and they make a handsome couple. When Penny Ann finished her formal seven-year sentence she elected to remain on campus to study for her vetinarian degree on-line so that she could remain close to her lover.

As Nixdown is fond of saying, “where else is a gal going to get her kix on Nix Sixty-six?”

Drop back tomorrow to learn more about the life and times of Miss Rosemary Booker … its Sunday … mimosa’s for breakfast … kick-back and have a little 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 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 Famous Four – The Jojo Story

The central characters of the Woody Back to School Unit saga are the inmates known as the Famous Four. Over the past months I have posted many stories and cartoons featuring Jojo, Debs, Nixdown and Rosemary. I receive numerous enquiries about them so in response to your questions over the coming few days I shall share their background stories, starting today with Miss Jojo Heyworth …

Joanna ‘Jojo’ Heyworth … Prior to being seized in the notorious government conspiracy known as the ‘Great Purge of the Extreme Ladettes’ Jojo was a successful artist and theatrical producer. While studying for a Fine Arts degree she supplemented her allowance by writing, directing, producing and occasionally even acting in a series of successful fringe theater productions. Her murals and sculptures had been shown at several West End Galleries.

Jojo was also a successful equestrian, riding on the national team that was tipped to secure a shed-load of gongs at the forthcoming Olympics. Her best friend on the squad was Nicola Jane Nixon who was also carving out a name for herself directing risqué music videos.

Jojo and Nicola Jane teamed up and established a highly successful multi-media production company and were soon making out like bandits. The two chums quickly became the toast of the West End party circuit.

Unfortunately the height of their success coincided with another period of fiscal imprudence by the government. Faced with considerable criticism from the Great Unwashed the mandarins of spin were instructed to create a diversion. Bounties on the bumbags of Celebrity Ladettes were increased substantially.

Successful and entrepreneurial young females like Jojo and Nicola Jane made ideal targets for the Dark Agents of the System. The Celebrity Goon Squad monitored their every move and covertly photographed them as they left the hottest night-clubs in the Smoke.

Jojo and Nix were arrested on several occasions and hauled before disciplinary tribunals. They were charged with Misdemeanor Ladetting but even the System was forced to acknowledge that the evidence against them was fragile at best and they were released. However, the Dark Agents were not about to let a pair of substantial bounties go to waste and used their contacts in the conservative press to launch a series of scurrilous attacks on Jojo and Nicola Jane.

The blood-thirsty hacks from the right-wing rags denounced the two chums as degenerates and criticized their high-profile life-styles for influencing and encouraging the perpetuation of the Ladette movement. The accusations were ridiculous but the Great Unwashed is a fickle bunch and immediately demanded action.

Jojo and Nix were arrested again and taken to a secret silo of the System. As there were no actual charges to be brought against them the members of the System’s disciplinary council sat in-camera. Jojo and Nix were denied legal representation or the opportunity to defend themselves and were found guilty of ‘Conspiracy to promote anti-social Ladette behavior amongst the public at large’. They were sentenced to seven years at the Big House without the possibility of parole.

When Jojo had first entered the facility she had been sporting a virgin arse. The school that she had attended had not practiced any form of physical discipline and the home she was raised in was a spank-free zone. Nonetheless that state of affairs would abruptly change as she quickly embraced the subversive teachings of Cat Cassidy’s notorious ‘Manifesto of Mega-minxdom’.

The stunningly beautiful red-head had found a new vocation and raised the standards of goofing, larking and pranking to an art-form. During the first year of her incarceration she established the unit’s record for being spanked in the lecture room’s. It was the first of many records that she would accumulate during her seven-year sentence.

Towards the end of the first year of Jojo’s sentence the Grand Dame, Ms Lawton, responded to the persistent complaints she received from the Brass about her behavior by breaking with tradition and giving her three strokes of the cane. She became the first ‘Beaten Brat’ in the unit’s history.

In her diary Jojo recalls the momentous event. “I found myself bending over the back of a straight-backed chair up in the Beak’s office with my skirt turned back. I heard an ominous whistle from behind me and then felt a sharp shock in my bum. Momentarily I thought that it didn’t hurt too much and then my flesh started to sizzle. In a moment of lucidity I remember thinking I hope there’s not much more where that came from.” Unfortunately for Miss Heyworth there were plenty more whops in her future.

For five consecutive years Jojo Heyworth dominated the annual Bottoms Up Table of Troublemakers awards earning her the ranking of All-time Big BUTT. She became the first inmate to score the coveted Bull when she received fifty punishments during a single year; an accomplishment that she would repeat for three consecutive years. She would receive an awe-inspiring eighteen public floggings and was one of the first inmates to be inducted into the ‘Double Berkeley Society’ (meaning that she will get a mandatory twelve-stroke bare bender whenever she is dispatched to the principal’s office for punishment). She served as an inspiration to all the inmates who aspired to a lifestyle of mega-minxdom.

When Mr Humphries takes over as Grand Master of the facility he is charmed by the gregarious red-headed minx who pays regular visits to his office needing to be whopped. They become romantically entwined and during the last year of his sentence Jojo wears a tiffany engagement ring on a chain around her neck. They are scheduled to be married once Miss Jojo completes her sentence.

Tomorrow discover the dark secrets of the life and times of Miss Nixdown Nixon … until then … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Woodys Five Red Bums Award for Mr Chross

In the ever-expanding world of spanking blogs there are many brilliant and award worthy sites for us spanko’s to surf and enjoy … the Woody Back to School Unit wishes to extend our appreciation to everybody who takes the time and effort to sit at a keyboard and share your stories, anecdotes and pictures with our community … in recognition of his consistent and exceptional contribution to the spanking community we are pleased to endow the legendary spanking chronologist Mr Chross with a Woodys Five Red Bums Award … thanks for all your hard work Chross … Bottoms Up! … RH and Jojo.

 

Free Woody Story Available in PDF Format

I have posted the full version of ‘A Life in the Day of Debs Morton’, in pdf format, complete with illustrations in the Seven Days of Woodys side-bar (and ok there’s only five posts listed!) …I will put it into proper Woody book format when I have time … Also all 26 original Woody Toon’s are available in a Powerpoint presentation, along with the Famous Four Collection … they are quite big files and slow to download but I think they are worth the time … so switch on the hot-tub, open a bottle of red and they’ll be downloaded by the time you’re finished … enjoy … RH

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 10

This is the final installment of my now long-running writing experiment, ‘A Life in the Day of Debs Morton’. The earlier Parts 1-9 are posted in the Seven Days of Woodys sidebar. I am migrating them into pdf format and will eventually compile them into a user friendly book form. It just takes time, which as you all appreciate is always at a premium.

Speaking of books my thanks to those of you who have purchased the first five books of the Woody Back to School saga … I have several more volumes ready for publication but was recently taken by surprise when Lulu, the self-publishing site, announced that it was going to levy another bogus fee on top of their commission resulting in the small profit I previously made on a book being almost entirely eroded. Let’s face it when you sell stories that took months to write for $4.99 a download and end up making almost nothing you have to sell a shed-load of books before you become as rich as JKR (which was of course never the point of the exercise but nonetheless I didn’t write them for Lulu to take all the revenue) … so I am looking for a new outlet that doesn’t suddenly scam me (if one even exists! If anybody has any ideas I’d appreciate hearing them) … well enough bitching about being the impoverished artist starving in my garret … after all it’s mimosa’s and Bloody Mary’s for breakfast day so I invite you to kick-back and enjoy the story … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 10

After supper we are left pretty much to our own devices. As I said earlier Mr Humphries has instituted numerous programs that we can participate in. The current hot project is our planned production of Westside Story which is being produced by our very own Jojo. Joanna was a theatrical director before the Dark Agents got their claws into her and it promises to be a very professional show. I have taken on the responsibility of musical director and am working on a contemporary score. I decide to cut along to the Great Hall and see how preparations are going. There are always gals down there working on the sets or practicing dance routines.

I amble through the corridors taking my time. There are strict no running protocols in the hallways and stairwells and any breach of protocol will result in a trip to the library for six of the best from the Duty Monitor or her assistants.

While we are not in the lecture rooms the Elite is charged with responsibility for administering the facility. Every day one member of the Elite is nominated as Duty Monitor and is supported by several assistants, known as her Watchers. Theoretically their job is merely to make sure that horseplay doesn’t get too raucous and nobody does something daft and gets hurt, to monitor that we don’t stray into areas of the compound that are off-limits, and to break up the occasional scrap. They are granted full thrashing rights and when they are not in the lecture rooms are required to carry a whippy cane, known as an ashplant, with them at all times.

The ashplants are purchased from a specialist outlet in Dublin and shipped in to the facility by the gross. If you go on the purveyor’s web-site they claim that each cane is tested for appropriate whippiness and sharpness of sting prior to shipping. They do not explain exactly how this is achieved, but as the only way these tests could possibly have any value would be to try each cane out in earnest it would seem that there are some very curious employment opportunities in the Emerald Isle.

The role of the Elite has always been controversial. The authority that has been vested in them offers considerable scope for the abuse of power. The greatest controversy centers around an ill-defined offense known as ‘Rubbishing a Pre’. Considering that the rules, regulations and protocols that govern our behavior run to hundreds of pages and are as complex as any legal document it is almost criminal that the term ‘rubbishing’ is left widely open to interpretation by the individual prefect. Abuse of the rubbishing protocols is rampant and never more so than last year.

First I need to just briefly explain the role of the ‘Radical Right’ at the facility. This is a small group of the Brass who are essentially whop junkies and take the administering of corporal punishment to the extreme.

The leader of this group is an odious specimen called Patricia Hodge. Patty is a cruel and sadistic be-yotch. She is very tall and striking. She has flame red-hair and startling green eyes. She adds to her height by wearing three-inch spiked heels and likes to show off her endlessly long legs by wearing calf length skirt slit up the sides. She cuts an imposing figure which she uses to intimidate us inmates.

She pals around with the Wart and Katie Beck, two more odious creatures (Ms Whitton used to be one of her gang before she got her voluminous bumbags chucked in chokey). Their sole raison d’être is to make trouble for us.

Some years ago Katie Beck was an inmate and she somehow finagled her way into being elected Red-shirt. It is widely suspected that this was part of a long-term plan implemented by Patty and that she had been coaching Katie for some time. As soon as she took office Katie let it be known that she intended to cane every inmate in the community during her first hundred days and she achieved that in half the time.

Despite being an evil weasel Katie can be quite charming and she had no shortage of sycophants. She corralled them into the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers, known to us Woody Wags as the ‘SS’ and went on a whopping and spanking spree. Nobody’s bumbags were safe.

The most endangered bumbags in the unit belonged to poor old Nix. She had the misfortune to pull the short straw and was assigned to act as Katie’s Personal Grubby. During the first year of our sentences we are each assigned to a prefect to act has her personal skivvies. In return for our services she is supposed to act as our trainer and mentor, teaching us the ropes and how to best survive our seven year sentences.

One of the most popular training techniques involves putting us over their knees to be ‘draped and dusted’. Now I have to admit I got very fortunate. I was assigned to a prefect called Maria Jones. She had been a fan during my tennis days and she also hated Katie with a passion. During the whole year I grubbed for her she only ever dusted me a couple of times, which was lucky for me as she was incredibly fit and had hands like house-bricks. Man that gal could spank hard!

Nix was not so fortunate. Katie draped and dusted her on a daily basis. She would often illegally yank down Nix’s knickers (bumbags) earning my chum the nickname of Nixdown Nixon. As I have said earlier Nix is a belligerent cove and did not always take her drapings quietly. She regularly retaliated by hacking Katie in the shins or poking her in the eye. Katie knew better than to report Nix to Ms Lawton as her illicit activities would have come under scrutiny, so she just resorted to dusting Nix more often, sometimes several times a day. It was a bad time to be a grubby.

But if we thought Katie’s regime was tough and cruel nothing prepared us for last year. The elevation of Yvonne Godfrey and her cronies to the Elite coincided with Ms Lawton’s declaration of war against the mega-minxes, known as Operation Scorched Arse. It was the classic collision of the constellation and did not bode well for our bumbags.

I remember Yvonne Godfrey’s trial for bribery, corruption, extortion and racketeering; I was still a free woman at the time. The prosecution claimed that she was a senior executive in the notorious criminal gang known as the Confederacy of Yoofs, a charge she vehemently denied. Her cool responses earned her the nick-name of ‘The Ice Maiden’ in the press. Somehow her lawyers managed to broker a deal and the charges were reduced to Extreme Ladetting. She and her cohorts were sentenced to seven years at the facility without the possibility of parole.

In my opinion Yvonne should have been banged up in a high security jail and not entered into a Social Rehabilitation program. Rehabilitating Yvonne has about the same potential of success as teaching your pet snake to juggle. However, the authorities didn’t bother to canvas my opinion in this matter.

Yvonne and cronies were of course ideal candidates for recruitment by Patty and she covertly trained them to become the most heinous SS in the unit’s history. They worked as a team and hunted in packs. The announcement of Operation Scorched Arse allowed them to operate with impunity. Nobody’s bumbags were safe and I was their number one target.

Having the misfortune of being branded Public Enemy Number One and targeted to be treated as a hostile who should be punished ‘with extreme prejudice’ made me cannon fodder for the SS.

During Operation Scorched Arse I received corporal punishment over fifty times. Fifteen of those punishments were delivered directly by members of the SS and they engineered me getting a record-breaking ten bare-bottom hairbrush spankings from the Red-shirt. It was not a good time to be sporting Deborah Morton’s bumbags I can tell you.

Right at the end of the year Ms Lawton finally came to her senses, I don’t know, maybe she had some kind of spiritual epiphany, but on the eve of her shocking resignation she had a treat in store for us.

First she publicly humiliated Yvonne and her gang by stripping them of office and standing them down from the Elite. Then she made another stunning announcement when she declared that Lady Victoria Brompton would fulfill the role of Red-shirt in the forthcoming year.

Lady Vix, as we call her, is a hard-core mega-minx. She has been a permanent fixture in the top five of the Hall of Shame ever since she started her sentence. She is pugnacious and potty-mouthed but she is also the great champion of the underdog. There are many inmates who have been grateful when she has interceded on their behalf when they were being bullied and she is a great and fearless warrior. She has four older brothers and they taught her to box and wrestle. Seeing her sticking up her dukes and delivering a sharp one-two is something to behold. We were all gob-smacked when Ms Lawton announced her promotion but we would later come to understand that the wily old beak knew what she was doing.

Finally Ms Lawton told us that she was taking the Brass and Elite out to dinner and leaving the facility in the charge of Victoria. Without saying so directly she was giving her blessing for us to reap retribution of the sorry arse’s of Yvonne and her cronies, and we did in spectacular style, I can tell you. I hadn’t had so much fun since my old gran got her right titty stuck in the mangle.

I cut across the quad in the direction of the Great Hall. On the way I happen across the Duty Monitor, she merely nods and goes about her business. The Elite presided over by Lady Vix has a very different flavor to last year. She is tough and strong-willed and she prohibits any form of serial or sporting spanking. She abolished the heinous practices of collaring and sweating that had been used liberally by Yvonne and her henchwomen. She exerts her will over the other members of the Elite and is prepared to support her principles with the back of her wooden hairbrush if necessary. Gone are the days of bogus whops, if we are unfortunate enough to be taken upstairs to be licked at least we know we damn well deserve it.

The Hall is pretty full. There are several gals on stage dressed in training tops and sweat pants working on dance routines with Ginger Beckett. Lisa Sutton and her team are painting a large mural of an urban setting on a canvas. Jojo is prowling around with a clip-board taking notes. I go up to the small room at the back of the hall where I have a mixing desk. Nix is there fiddling with her dual Mac’s which she uses to control the lighting and stage sets. She winks at me. I pick up a set of headphones and slip a jump-drive into my laptop and listen to the current version of the soundtrack.

The greatest challenge of being institutionalized is boredom and it is projects such as this that help make it bearable. Jojo has selected to change the theme of the show to Mods and Punk-rockers in the urban Smoke so I have to produce a score and sound to match. I have downloaded hundreds of tracks, many of which I have never heard before, trying to find that balance. It is great fun. Nixdown offers me a fag. I don’t really smoke but I take one anyway and suck on it thoughtfully as I listen to the sounds. In some ways it’s not a bad life.

I stay in the hall for an hour and then decide I should really go back and finish my assignment on Jean Jacques. I say cya to Nix and go back upstairs. Rosemary is seated at one of the two small work-stations in our study. She is tapping away at her laptop. She should be working on assignments but I suspect she is engaged in hot conversation with her on-line lothario, the Silver Fox. I keep trying to tell her that she could avoid a lot of unnecessary whops if she worked first and chatted later but she doesn’t listen, so I don’t waste my breath with another lecture.

I hang my blazer up in the closet and kick off my shoes. I notice that Rosemary has a bottle of Chardonnay in an ice-bucket so I help myself to a glass. Mr Humphries allows us to drink up on the landings as long as we don’t get squiffy. I pad across to my work-station and turn my attention back to JJ.

At 10:30 the first lockdown warning bell sounds. I tell Rosie I’m going to take a shower. I like to go to bed early as I get up at the crack of dawn to go running. She just grunts. I’m pretty sure that she hasn’t done a stroke of work all night but I suppose that’s her business.

I am sound asleep and only vaguely here the last bell at 11:30 that signals official lockdown. There is now a no gabbing, goofing, larking or pranking protocol in place.

During the first four years of our sentences we slept in large dormitories. We had a bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and absolutely no privacy from the other eleven gals who shared the dorm. It was sleeping in the dorms that really made me understand that I had been put in prison. The compound is huge and the buildings are ornate and opulent but once you get to sleep in a public dormitory you know you are in chokey.

The responsibility for ensuring that the lockdown protocols are complied with falls to a prefect known as the ‘Dorm Raider’. For several hours she pads up and down the stairs and prowls the landings looking out for signs of mischief and malfeasance. Anyone caught breaching the protocols is immediately bent over the end of their beds and subjected to a mandatory six of the best.

Despite the risks the dorms were hotbeds of anarchy. We embarked upon endless games of ‘truth or dare’ recklessly risking going to sleep with a sizzling arse just for the hell of it.

Upstairs on the landings that house the two-gal studies of the Phase 5 and 6 inmates we are a little less exposed and have to be quite dumb to manage to get ourselves whopped, but it does happen.

It is around midnight when I feel Rosemary shaking me out of sleep. “Debs”, she hisses, “Come and look at this.”

“Are you barking?” I mutter drowsily. “Look at the time. Go to sleep.”

“I will in a minute, we’re safe, Melons came by a few minutes ago we’re in the dead zone,” she giggles. “You have to see what the Silver Fox has planned for our vacation.”

“I’ll look in the morning,” I hiss irritably. “I need to sleep.”

“It will just take a second,” she says insistently.

“Oh good fucking grief,” I snap but I swing my legs out of the bed. Rosemary and I have been best chums for six years and I know that she will persist. It is better that I just humor her and then she’ll let me get some kip. “This had better be good,” I say threateningly. After she’s right, we’re in a dead zone and Melons won’t be back for probably fifteen minutes.

She has her laptop propped up on her pillow and it’s open at a web-site advertizing nifty holidays in the Caribbean. “Look,” she says, “he’s rented this villa on a private island. It looks stunning.”

I have to admit that I’m impressed. I have always had my suspicions about her on-line suitor but maybe he is the real deal. She clicks down through the site and starts pulling up pictures. I have to confess I am jealous until the door bursts open and Melons strides into the study with her flashlight and cane. At that point I become seriously pissed.

Morosely I retrieve my pillow and place it over the end of my bed and bend over. There is nothing I can do we are totally bang to rights. I am furious. This is so typical. I should never have allowed myself to be in this position. I should just say no but as usual I succumbed to the temptation of momentary gratuitous satisfaction and where has it got me? Face down, arse up over my bed! I will throttle Rosemary with her bumbags in the morning.

This is not a good situation. Melons is a super-star and was a major player on the mega-minx circuit before she joined the Elite. She gets her nickname from her rather prominent mammary glands. She is awfully petite in all other proportions but her gazonkas are absolutely gargantuan. We have always been tight, she was awfully good to me when I first started my sentence and was being castigated by the gutter press. She was very instrumental in enrolling me into the Cult of Mega-minxes and I love her to death but I know one thing, she will not cut us any slack and man can that gal cane hard.

She starts with Rosemary. I watch from my prone position and my heart begins to pump faster. My tummy is doing somersaults. I am beginning to perspire profusely. Every crack of the cane off Rosie’s tautened jimjams brings my turn closer. This is a disaster. My bum had only recently settled down to a manageable and tolerable temperature and in just a few seconds it will be rudely reignited. Woe is me.

She finishes with Rosie and pads over and takes up position next to me. I bury my face in the pillow and wait to be caned. I hear an ominous whistle as the cane cuts through the air and then all hell unleashes in my striped jimjams.

I shall draw a curtain over the details of the beating save to say that it was excruciating. I scuttle back into bed and turn over onto my tummy. I will have to try to get some sleep face downwards. I have to admit this is not the first time that I have been faced with this unpleasant prospect and probably it won’t be the last. Not when you spend every day as a Life in the Day of the bumbags of Debs Morton … zzzz!!!!!!!!!!

The End

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 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.

Dazzling New Woody Toon 26 – The Fountain of Spanks

Despite her staggering IQ Debs Morton is prone to making some rather silly mistakes when it comes to protecting her bumbags. In a previous toon, ‘Spanked in Front of the Guests’, Debs gets a second spanking after she petulantly tells her Ma that the first one didn’t hurt. In today’s toon she makes a similar mistake with Patsy Butcher and suffers the consequences, getting herself drenched in the process.

This toon is loosely based on an episode from ‘Volume 22 – A Man from Berlin’ of the Woody Back to School Unit saga and was previously posted as ‘Take the up and have them Thrashed and a Drenching for Debs’.

I’m never sure where I get the ideas for particular episodes but I assume somewhere in my sub-conscious I was inspired to use the fountain location by this famous spanking scene from Donovan’s Reef where The Duke finally gets tired of Elizabeth Allen’s snooty attitude and settles the matter in an appropriate manner. I’m sure I have seen the video clip somewhere on the net but I couldn’t find it this morning … oh well!

I hope you find the new and completely original toon amusing and enjoy the associated story. My usual thanks to Dave Ell who cranked this one out in double quick time despite a raging hangover … It’s Saturday so crack open a Heineken, kick-back 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 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 9

This is the penultimate installment of my now long-running writing experiment, ‘A Life in the Day of Debs Morton’. The earlier Parts 1-8 are posted in the Seven Days of Woodys sidebar. This week’s second toon has been slightly delayed to due schedule conflicts between Dave Ell and I, but keeping checking back as it should hopefully be posted sometime in the next 48 hours … in the mean-time, kick-back and enjoy the story … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 9

I settle my poor beleaguered bum down on a reasonably comfortable cushioned seat and set to work on an assignment on ‘The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau’, a lot of people find JJ a little dry but he absorbs me and distracts me from my stinging rear end. After an hour of reading and writing notes I hear the click of footsteps on the landing and the next door opening and slamming shut. I guess that Jojo is back from her trip up to the library. I decide I’d better check on her.

I knock gently and stick my head around the door. Jojo has already peeled off her blazer and chucked it on the small couch. She has a fag in her mouth and is lighting it.

“You okay?” I ask. “How was it?”

Jojo shrugs. “Pathetic Be-yotch,” she says grumpily. “She couldn’t whop her way out of a wet paper-bag. Her heart wasn’t really in it.”

I chuckle. “Vix was all over her like a pair of baggy bumbags before she went up to beat you,” I tell my chum.

Jojo grins. She seems sublimely unfazed by the fact that she has recently been upstairs in the library being caned. She is like that, god bless her navy blue, gossamer bumbags.

”Do you need cooling down?” I ask her.

She just grins. “After a whopping from Sally wimpy Cobb, give me a break. I have some self-respect.”

Nixdown ambles into the study. She is still looking grumpy as a result of being thrashed with a two-tailed tawse by the Dyke. I suspect that later tonight she will repair to the stables and take out her irritability of poor Penny Ann’s bum. She can be a rather queer bird in that regard.

I look at my watch. There is still an hour before Callover so I decide to get changed and go and do a quick work-out in the wellness center. I wink at Jojo and cut along to work out on the punch-bag.

Jabbing, punching and kicking at the bag proves to be both an ideal and effective work-out and also has the added benefit of helping to avoid the onset of a curious disorder that is particularly prevalent amongst gals who have recently had their bums whapped with a whippy rattan cane. The disorder is known scientifically as pygalgia but in laymans terms can be translated as ‘a pain in the bum’. In just thirty minutes I work up a healthy perspiration, kick some punch-bag arse, burn off probably 650 calories and most importantly loosen up my bum muscles and divert an uncomfortable dose of pygalgia setting in. Loads of benefits! It is the world’s best remedy for a recently caned bum!

Once I’m showered and change I repair to the hall for Callover. Curfew at the facility is imposed at 6:30 each evening. We are allowed one town-pass a week so that we can take care of personal business like banking (not that any of us have any money, our squids were all seized by the Dark Agents of the System), sending personal gifts or scoring new clobber. There is a bus route which takes about twenty minutes door-to door. Getting to town is a doddle but getting back is sometimes a trial. Even if the buses run on time which is rarely, the traffic is always backed up so it is always nerve-wracking if you leave it until the last bus. Cutting Curfew means mandatory whops from the Duty Dame.

Over the years I have been whopped half a dozen times for being late back from town. Unfortunately these incidents have always coincided with arch Be-yotch’s like Patty Hodge or the Wart being on duty. I end up with my bumbags sizzling just because the buses don’t run on time. Does that seem fair … why doesn’t the transportation minister get whopped? Just a thought!

Callover is just a kind of registration to ensure we are back on campus safe and in one piece. The Callover protocols are less stringent than those that govern morning assembly. A certain amount of gabbing is allowed but obviously no pinching, prodding, shoving or shin-hacking is allowed. Minor goofing, larking and pranking is generally tolerated but serious and over-raucous horseplay can result in you ending up to your bumbags in whops.

Jojo and Nixdown are already in their seats. I slide in next to them. Rosemary is nowhere to be seen. It is almost time for Callover to begin so she is cutting it close. She didn’t tell me that she was going into town and she wasn’t in the study when I dropped off my work-out bag. She is notoriously tardy about time-keeping. I sigh. I hate to think of my best chum getting whopped just because she missed a bus, but at the last moment she bursts through the doors and hurries up to take an empty seat. I breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m here Ma’am,” I respond when Lady Victoria calls my name. It is all very uneventful, everybody is safe and sound and nobody scores any whops so it is time for chow.

Before Mr Humphries took over as Grand Master, the grub here was pretty ghastly, shipped in by outside contractors in big vats. Mostly it was congealed stews complimented with a starter salad of some wilted lettuce and a slice of tomato. Standard government gruel for those of us that they have deemed necessary to hide away behind locked doors. However, Mr Humphries first initiative was to make us self-sufficient and put Dotty Hammell and Cassie Cassy in charge of the kitchens. Wow, what a change!

They both used to run world class kitchens before they ended up at the facility. Cutting out the cost layers of bureaucracy and middlemen they have transformed the quality of nosh all within the same budget. Every night is a gastronomic extravaganza and we’re even allowed a glass of wine to compliment the great food. I select a bowl of mushroom soup, a small shank of roasted lamb served over a risotto and a glass of red and went and sat with my chums.

As usual we chatted about whops. After all three of us had already been caned today so what else would pre-occupy us? The general consensus was that we had all been unlucky and that the decisions could have gone either way. Nixxy was still grumpy but she conceded that the Dyke had been perfectly fair and that muttering dark uttering’s and hexes had been unwise. We raised our glasses and toasted each other. “Bottoms Up Sisters,” grinned Jojo and we all giggled.

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 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.

Fabulous New Woody Toon 25 – Team Morton

So has Debs really become too big for her bumbags? Well not exactly … in the latter stages of the Woody Back to School Unit saga she is preparing to be released from the government correctional facility and hopes to return to the professional tennis Grand Prix circuit. Seven years earlier she had become the first British woman to reach the semi-finals of Wimbledon for over a quarter of a decade. After marginally losing a grueling three-set match she was ambushed by the Dark Agents of the System and unceremoniously publicly arrested .

As she strives to achieve maximum fitness for her return her chums provide a support system known at the facility as Team Morton. Her best chum Rosemary Booker acts as her dietician and imposes a strict regime, including no alcohol from Monday to Friday.

Aware of her mercurial personality and reckless tendencies Debs agrees to sign a contract with each member of Team Morton giving them full spanking rights in the event that she reneges on her contractual obligations … and here are the sensational results.

The cartoon is a variation of an extract from Volume 28 – Magic Bumbags, featured below. Once again I’d like to compliment the fantastic artist Dave Ell on his wonderful interpretation … 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.

“Miss Morton, what are you doing?” gasped Kate.

“Rosemary sent me to stand in the corner,” grumbled Debs.

Kate Faulkner gaped. “But you’re the Red-shirt Ma’am,” she said.

“This is not Red-shirt business, this is Team Morton business,” explained Deborah without moving her nose from the wall. “Be a sweetie and cut along the landing and remind Rosemary. I’ve been here for over an hour and I think she might have forgotten about me.”

“Oh good grief,” gasped Rosemary. “You cannot be serious?”

Kate nodded. “She’s standing in the corner Ma’am. She’s waiting for you to release her.”

“Oh my only Aunt Sally,” said Rosemary disbelievingly.

“Whadya doing?” Debs had wailed as her best chum tipped her over her knee, flipped back her skirt and yanked down her bumbags.

“We have a contract and the ink has hardly dried before you have abused it. This is from me on behalf of Team Morton” snapped Rosemary and brought the wooden hairbrush down with a crack.

“Jeezus,” squealed Debs. “Ow! Ow! Stoppit you lunatic, that hurts! OW! OW! YOW!”

After she had caned Kate Faulkner up in the library Debs had changed into shorts and singlet and gone for a solitary run. Her backside was still throbbing. She could not think of a single legitimate reason that would have possessed her to insist that Christy Cranfield top off the evening by giving her six on the silks. Despite her less than stellar record Deborah Morton had spent the past fifteen years doing her best to elude the constant array of canes, straps, slippers and other artillery that seemed to be constantly preying on her rear end. The idea that she had volunteered to be caned by Christy was bewildering.

“I have just mixed a jigger of vodka martinis,” said Nixdown.

“You know I don’t drink on duty,” sighed Debs. “I just thought you might be able to cast some light on why I should have volunteered for six on the silks.”

Nixdown snorted. “One drink won’t hurt. I’ll fix one really dirty and then we can gab. I heard that there was a helluva a noise coming out of your study last night. Sadly I missed it. I was down in the stables with Penny Ann, but everyone says you must have got one helluva whopping.”

“Christy does good work,” groaned Debs. “Now what was that about a vodka martini?”

“Whadya doing?” wailed Debs.

“We have a contract and the ink has hardly dried before you have abused it. This is from me on behalf of Team Morton” snapped Rosemary and brought the hairbrush down with a crack.

“Jeezus,” squealed Debs. “Ow! Ow! Stoppit you lunatic, that hurts! OW! OW! YOW!”

Nixdown gaped in astonishment. “Go Rosie go!” she mumbled.

Nix and Debs had been kicking back in easy chairs in Deborah’s study when Rosemary had stopped by. Debs had grinned at her best chum and toasted her.

“Bottoms up, sis,” she grinned.

“Yes and yours is going to be young lady,” snapped Rosemary and headed into the bathroom. Nix and Debs exchanged confused glances.

“Come with me,” said Rosemary, grabbing Debs by the wrist and pulling her out of the chair. At first Debs was giggling. “What are you going to do Rosie? Spank me? For one vodka martini? It’s less than a hundred calories?”

“It was one drink this time,” said Rosemary firmly, “but if I let you get away with it, it will be two drinks next time. Now put it up and keep it up!”

“Jeepers, Rosie,” wailed Deborah, “do you really need to use that goddam hairbrush!”

“I most certainly do,” Rosemary said emphatically and brought the brush down with a crack.

“That’s not fucking funny,” yelped Debs. “Quit that! OW! Shit Rosie, that hurt’s! OW!”

“Go and stand in the corner,” snapped Rosemary.

“Yes Ma’am,” muttered Debs.

“Go Rosie,” breathed Nix.

“I signed a contract that gives Team Morton thrashing rights,” explained Debs.

“And who exactly is Team Morton?” asked Kate.

“Coach Lummell of course,” replied Debs. “Rachel is my subject matter expert, Miss Scott and the Butcher Twins are my work-out gurus and Rosie is taking care of my diet.”

Katie’s eyes twinkled. “I’m your bodyguard; does that give me spanking rights too?”

“Oh good grief,” groaned Debs.

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 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.

Too Big for her Bumbags?

Has new found power gone to Debs head? Has she become too big for her bumbags? Toon in tomorrow to find out!!! … Bottoms Up! … RH

The Crack of the Cane

Call me old-fashioned but being a Londoner of a certain age I have always been fascinated by the Crack of the Cane. There is something wonderfully ominous about the swish of well-crafted rattan cutting through the air and rebounding off tautened bumbags with that rotund thwack! … Just a personal observation.

Over the past few months I have been collaborating with the brilliant illustrator Dave Ell on compiling the Woody Toons and I especially appreciate it when he captures that mystical moment of impact, so here’s a little collage of my faves … I am once again diverted by the ungentlemanly pursuit of the much needed green-backs required to keep bread on the table so I have to rush … enjoy the selection … brand new Woody Toons will be available this weekend as usual so keep checking back … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 8

The subject of today’s MBS brunch over at My Bottom Smarts is a discussion on how to make new guests more comfortable and feel welcome. I hope that everybody who visits this site feels at home in the fantasy environment that I have created and would like to express my sincere appreciation to everybody who stops by. Should you have any questions, comments, or suggestions I would be happy to hear from you and encourage you to leave comments. With the proviso that I will not be overly forthcoming about the private and vanilla elements of My Beloved Jojo and I’s life I will be happy to respond and answer most questions.

This is a continuation of my now long-running writing experiment, ‘A Life in the Day of Debs Morton’. The earlier Parts 1-7 are posted in the Seven Days of Woodys sidebar … It’s Sunday, we have survived the Great Houston Blizzard of 2009 so open a bottle of wine, kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 8

Victoria and I watched Jojo stomp across the quadrangle. She is looking pretty displeased at the prospect of a swishing. Behind her Sally Cobb is smirking. I wonder what Jojo could have possibly done to deserve six of the best. Barely fifteen minutes ago I had seen her upstairs in her study where she had been tending to Nixdown’s swollen bum.

“I’ll cya later,” says Lady Victoria, “I hope ya bum cools down soon.” She takes off and barrels down upon Sally. Sally does not look at all pleased at the prospect of being interrogated by the Red-shirt and tries to hurry away but Vix is not easily dissuaded and catches up with her.

Sally Cobb is a rather pathetic individual and widely despised. She was appointed as Captain of the Red House by the Wart and it is no secret that she was recruited by Patty Hodge to act as the Commandant of the Secret Society of Serial Spankers. Unfortunately for Sally Lady Victoria made it quite clear that she would not tolerate any serial spanking on her watch and is willing to impose her will with the back of her wood-backed hairbrush. As a result Sally’s recruitment campaign was a disaster. She is Commandant of a sorority of which she is the sole member and has been ostracized by the other members of the Elite and is treated with contempt by the rest of the community.

I suppose I should feel sorry for her, but I don’t. She was foolish enough to believe Patty’s promises of protection and chose to make a pact with the Devil Be-yotch. She is now caught between the rock and the hard place. Her bumbags are constantly in danger. Patty and her cronies constantly hound her to increase her whop rate but Victoria watches her like a hawk. She can’t win for losing and I have no sympathy for her.

She has beaten me three times this year; all on the direct instructions of the Wart. The Wart is the Mistress of the Red House and acts as Sally’s handler on behalf of Patty. She has the authority to arrange for us to be caned on what is known as ‘House Business’. This is a highly dubious process that relies on the Wart’s erratic interpretations of the protocols contained in the ‘Red House Charter’. There is an appeals process but good luck with that. It’s better to just bend over and suck up the whops regardless of whether you know the charges are bogus.

Not that being beaten by Sally Cobb is particularly tough duty. She just doesn’t have what it takes to deliver a really hot thrashing. That is not to say that it doesn’t smart, even a relatively wimpy swishing is disagreeable, but it is just a minor inconvenience when compared with the heat that can be generated by a true artiste such as last year’s House Captain, Patsy Butcher.

Patsy and I have always been tight. She was an Olympic standard sprinter until she was arrested, along with her twin sister, and banged up for seven years at the unit. She regularly helps me work out and has added valuable mille-seconds to my short sprints. She is a real dote.

Unfortunately Patsy’s period of office coincided with the period when I was at my most vulnerable. I had been assigned the rank as the unit’s ‘Public Enemy Number One’, unfairly in my opinion, and the Brass and the Elite were instructed to treat me with extreme prejudice. This unfortunate status offered the Wart plenty of scope to abuse the House Protocols, even more than usual, and I soon found myself touching my toes in the library waiting to be caned by Patsy.

As I said some gals have what it takes and some gals don’t. Patsy was firmly in the first category. I have had the misfortune of being whopped for a decade and a half and have learned a thing or two. One thing I have learned is that the first stroke of a beating generally sets the tone and tells me how it’s going to go down. The first stroke I ever received from Patsy was an absolute scorcher and I knew I had some hot and sweaty times ahead of me. My suspicions were proven well-founded and she gave me a sizzling swishing. It was the first of several disagreeable encounters with Patsy’s cane, which would include three very unpleasant Formal House Beatings. I have nothing but respect for Patsy’s ability and we remained very good chums. By contrast I have no respect for Sally Cobb and consider her a wimp and a rotter.

I grin to myself. Victoria is clearly quizzing Sally closely. Sally is offering earnest explanations for dispatching Jojo upstairs for whops but she is looking anxious. I chuckle and continue on my spin around the recreation area. My bum is still giving me gyp.

The recreation area is filling up with inmates catching a breath of fresh air after being cooped up all day in the lecture rooms. Some of them are starting up card games or have brought out backgammon boards; others are just mooching about gabbing. A number of my chums stop me and offer their sympathies over my recent whops and ask me how they went down. The common consensus is that Madame Diderot was a little harsh and has no sense of humor.

After lectures are over we have two and a half hours of free-time at our disposal. We have a number of options available. Mr Humphries has instituted numerous extra-curricula projects into the program. I try to participate in as many as possible but mainly I use the free-time to work-out on the tennis courts or in the wellness center. However, I am not in the mood for company so I decide to go back upstairs and crack open the books.

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 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.

Fabulous New Woody Toon 24 – A New Red-shirt

The very popular Toon 22 featured our heroines from the Famous Four participating in a ritual known as being ‘Thrashed into the Elite’. This symbolic ceremony is performed on inmates at the Woody Back to School Unit when they commence the seventh and final year of their incarceration for Extreme Ladetting. This Elite Corps of inmates are considered far enough advanced in their Extreme Social Rehabilitation programs to be given the responsibility of acting as the equivalent of the Brass outside of the lecture rooms, including being granted full thrashing rights.

Mr Humphries was faced with the dilemma of who to select as the new Red-shirt to replace the popular and highly effective Lady Victoria Brompton. Despite their reputations as the world’s finest mega-minxes he is convinced that he should elect one of the Famous Four to fulfill this august role.

He first approaches Jojo but she declines his proposal on the grounds that she is the reigning Big BUTT and would feel hypocritical (actually My Beloved Jojo insisted in this story-line as she has no interest in being on the top end of the cane and didn’t want to read stories along those lines).

Nixdown Nixon also declines the position. Despite her penchant for pain in the recreational arena she is fiercely opposed to formal corporal punishment and feels unable to fulfill the weighty obligations that go along with the office. In reality Nix has no intention of letting anything as mundane as a sense of duty and responsibility to interfere with her trysts in the stables with her lover Penny Ann or her other favored hedonistic indulgences.

It is generally accepted that although Rosemary is widely considered to be the Earth Mother of the unit she is far too soft to take on the heady responsibility of delivering in excess of three hundred whoppings a year.

This leaves the Grand Master with the dilemma of Debs. Despite her prodigious talents Mr Humphries believes that her mercurial and often erratic personality would make her too high-maintenance.

He finally prevails upon Lady Vix, who has elected to enroll in the Old Gal program and stay at the facility to study her law degree on-line, to serve a second term of office. Victoria, sensing Deborah’s secret disappointment agrees on the condition that Debs is appointed her deputy.

Surprisingly despite some personal disciplinary hiccoughs Debs proves to be an exemplary representative of the Elite and is widely respected for her judicious interpretation of the rules, regulations and protocols. Having attended a prestigious boarding school where administering discipline was the role of the prefects she has no difficulty in fulfilling her obligations when it comes to the business of delivering well-deserved whops.

When Lady Victoria decides that she wishes to stand-down citing Red-shirt Burn-out Deborah is finally offered the ultimate Woody accolade and entrusted to take over the unit’s most prestigious position.

Today’s totally original Toon, illustrated as always by the wonderful artist Dave Ell features Debs being required to deliver her first dusting in her new role … I hope that you like it … 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 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 7

Earlier today I posted the fabulous ‘Woody Toon 23 … Debs Dangled’ and I thought it merited some further explanation. So in this new installment of my ‘Life in a Day of …’ writing experiment I thought you should hear it from the horse’s mouth, so over to Debs.

Parts 1-6 are posted in the Seven Days of Woodys sidebar and by the way we have another new Woody Toon ready for posting so set your clocks and check back after midnight … until then kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 7

Mercifully we manage to get through the remainder of the Chemistry tutorial without any further activity from the tawse, although five minutes before the bell I did get shown a yellow card. I was so relieved when the bell rang. As you will remember I am sporting six stripes in my bumbags and following up with a dose of the two-tailed tawse was not high on my agenda. I hurry out of the lab as fast as my legs will carry me.

I cut along to my study and drop off my satchel full of books. I have several assignments I could start on and should really make a trip to the wellness center and work-out. But first I think I shall take a spin around the quadrangle and see if I can’t walk these whops off, they are continuing to give me considerable gyp.

I stick my head around the door of the study Nixdown shares with Jojo. Nix is face down across Jojo’s lap having cooling balms rubbed into her scarlet bum. Predictably she is bitching up a storm about being tawsed. I offer my sympathies and cut along.

The thing about whops is that you mustn’t let them settle in; whenever possible it’s a good idea to keep moving to avoid the muscles tightening up. I stuff my hand into my blazer pockets to avoid any temptation to be caught publicly rubbing. Only muffs rub!

Down in the cloisters I happen across the Bernadette Summers. “Sorry to hear about the whops,” she says cheerily. I assume my caning has already been posted on the ‘Breaking Whops’ section of the GalGab web-site. “I’m offering 10-1 that you’ll score the first Bull of the year,” she tells me.

Bernadette, better known as the Bounder, is the unit’s in-house bookie. We bet on anything but mostly on whops. The Bull she is referring to is scoring fifty punishments in a single year. I have to admit I managed to accomplish this unenviable record last year. Now I did have a bit of a leg-up as Ms Lawton declared me as Public Enemy Number One and painted a large target on my bumbags.

I must confess that 10-1 wouldn’t be a bad punt but we can’t bet on our own bumbags. When Madame Diderot was writing my caning up she numbered it as punishment 47 for the current year. Now there is still six weeks to go before the end of the year and the chances of me not getting the cane three more times are pretty non-existent. There’s very little doubt that before the years out I’ll be gracing the stage again for another public flogging. The real question is who will be the first to score a Bull, me or my good chum Jojo?

Jojo Heyworth is ranked number one on the Bottoms Up Table of Troublemakers, earning her the title of Big BUTT. She is an unbelievably talented minx and has been the Annual Big BUTT for four consecutive years and recently acquired the title of All-Time Big BUTT. Even last year when I was singled out and targeted as a hostile she still managed to nose me out of taking her title by two sets of whops. This year we are whopping it out bumbag to bumbag and the thrashing I just got from Madame nudged me ahead.

I grunt at the Bounder and continue on my way. I am just heading across the quad when Lady Victoria hurries over. She gives me a hug. “Sorry to hear about the whops,” she says sympathetically, “how was it?”

In some avenues of life this might appear to be a queer question but not at Woodys. We constantly gab about whops. We dissect every punishment whop by whop and rate them in terms of artistic merit, technical expertise and of course the all-important heat factor.

“Well at least I’d had a couple of days to recover from …” I trail off. We both know what I’m talking about.

Lady Victoria and I have always been tight but recently our relationship took a temporary nose-dive. Victoria is well-loved and widely admired and her performance as Red-shirt has been exemplary. She is even-handed and treats everybody, friend or foe, with equal fairness.

Unfortunately my behavior in the assembly hall has deteriorated and Victoria has been obliged to red-card me on several occasions. Now I admit that it’s illogical but I got the pip that she doesn’t cut me a little slack. I suffer from a compulsive impulsive behavior syndrome caused by an over-active naughty gene. This causes me to behave recklessly at inappropriate moments. I am convinced that I am possessed by an alter-ego that I call the Imposter who takes me over when my guard is down.

For some reason the Imposter often chooses to present herself during the prelude to assembly and I often find myself indulging in totally futile larks and pranks which are neither any more than a quick adrenalin rush or even particularly funny. In return for these momentary buzz’s I have been shown over a dozen red cards this year alone. Even Mr Humphries who is a tolerant soul and minx-friendly has become mildly irritated by my less than stellar performance and has felt compelled to take unconventional alternative steps in his efforts to curb my erratic behavior. On two occasions he has taken me up onto the stage, put me over his knee and given me a damn good spanking in front of my gawking chums. Quite recently he decided to dispatch me to the library for a double dangling.

For the uninitiated dangling is the term that we use for taking a trip over the Red-shirts knee for a spanking with the ceremonial oval-headed, wood-backed hairbrush. It is called dangling because the spanking stool, first introduced by Queen Be-yotch Katie Beck is so tall that when you are over and up it is impossible to touch the floor on either side. It is a most disquieting sensation.

A standard dangling for an inmate of my seniority is comprised of twelve spanks delivered on the bare bum. This is considered very tough duty. Katie specially selected the size of the head of the ceremonial hairbrushes so that in six spanks they could redden a gal’s arse top to bottom. Needless to say an additional six spanks on an already sizzling bum is no fun. Multiply that by two and it is impossible to express the exponential increase in the pain.

Now for complex reasons, or at least they seemed complex at the time, I got into my head that Victoria had behaved unreasonably. I felt that she could have interceded with the Grand Master on my behalf, or at least if she did proceed with the double dangling she would not lay it on too thick.

I can see now that there was no possible rationale for my expectations, Lady Victoria has a job to do and she would lose the respect of the whole colony of mega-minxes if she went into the slack-cutting business. However at the time when my arse was literally in flames I was not thinking straight.

I refused to be in the same room as Victoria and bitched about her royally to anybody who would listen (which with hindsight was a very small audience). I even got into a contretemps with my closest chums and caused a major rift in the lute between Rosemary, Nix, Jojo and I. Finally Victoria got sick of me bitching about her and we had a confrontation. Lady Victoria is notoriously pugnacious but to her credit she tried to reason with me. I can see now that she wanted to put the whole unfortunate incident behind us but I was not easily placated and gave her a piece of my mind.

I’m not sure what I was thinking but I decided it was appropriate to taunt her that the double dangling hadn’t hurt. “Then we shall try a triple dangling,” she told me coolly. “Meet me in the library in thirty minutes.”

At first I was furious and defiant. After all I am Debs Morton and I can take whatever she cares to dish out. I was going to show her! However as I began to cut through the corridors and stairwells on my way to keep my appointment with the lethal hairbrush some sanity began to return. What was I thinking? The double dangling had been excruciating. I don’t ever remember sporting a hotter, sorer arse. The thought of an even more prolonged spanking was unthinkable, I began to feel quite bilious.

By the time I reached the ominous door to the library I was in a blue funk but I knew I had to maintain a facade of righteous indignation and feigned nonchalance. Plucking up my nerve I stepped into the shadowy room. I was completely unprepared for my reception.

Victoria was not alone. She was seated aloft the spanking stool with her blazer off and her sleeves rolled up. Beside her Cat Cassidy, Melons and Patsy Butcher were standing with their arms folded across their chests. My heart sank. These are some of my best chums but there was no sign of sisterly love. They looked at me with considerable hostility; chums or not they clearly did not approve of me strutting about the place, acting the bollocks and bad-mouthing their beloved Vix.

I shall draw a veil over the intimate details of my triple dangling save to say I took a trip to hell and back. Spank after spank rained down on my poor beleaguered bum and I am not ashamed to say that before the deal was done I opened up my lungs and howled the rafters down! I know, I know, only muffs howl but you try a triple bare bottom spanking with a wood-backed hairbrush and see how you get on!

By the time we were finished I was thoroughly cowed. I hobbled out of the library with my head hung low. I couldn’t bear to look at my chums. I knew that I had just been totally nailed.

I made my way back up to my study, studiously avoiding the eyes of anyone I met on the way. I knew I was a disheveled mess. I hoped that Rosemary would be upstairs. Even though she hasn’t spoken to me since I chewed her out and made her cry I felt certain she would take pity on me and try and cool my bum down with one of her dynamite balms. Unfortunately she was not on the landing. I checked her calendar on her laptop and learned that she was on gardening duty for the next hour. I sighed and considered going next door to see if Jojo or Nix were available for cooling duties but I didn’t really want to have to explain what happened to Nix. She is an ardent Victoria fan and we had already had cross-words over my dispute with the Red-shirt and I didn’t feel up to another argument. Instead I went into the bathroom and very carefully rolled down my bumbags to inspect the damage.

Holy Moley! Over the years I have seen my poor beleaguered bum in some sorry states but that takes the biscuit. To her credit Victoria had concentrated her efforts on the safe zone known as the sweet spot. The crown of my bum was a vivid scarlet and my buttocks looked as if they had swollen up to the size of water-melons, I reached back and could feel the heat with my hands several inches from the throbbing mess. I ran some cold water in to the sink and found a face cloth. I soaked it then squeezed it out before very gingerly dabbing it against the heat. It was a curious sensation and I’m not sure it did any good. Eentually I discarded the cloth and found a towel and gently patted myself dry before rolling up my navy blue bumbags.

I stared at myself in the mirror. I am not known for my sartorial elegance but even by my standards I looked a complete mess. My tie was twisted and the knot had disappeared underneath one of the wings of the collar of my blouse. My make-up was in sad needs of repair and my hair looked like a birds-nest. It is astonishing what can happen to a gal’s appearance during a long, hot and sweaty spanking. I began to try to make myself look at least halfway human when I heard a knock on the door. This was unusual as it would normally be Nix or Jojo stopping by and they never knock. It’s Liberty Hall around here. I wriggled out to see who it was.

I was surprised to find Lady Victoria standing outside on the landing. I was uncertain of what to do. I considered hacking her in the shins or bopping her on the sniffer but she brought her hand out from behind her back and offered me a bunch of freshly cut flowers.

I was flabbergasted. “I think this has gone too far,” she said sweetly. “We’ve been chums for too long for something silly like a spanking to come between us.”

I looked at the flowers she was proffering. I suddenly felt exhausted. I’m not sure I agreed with her that a double dangling is something silly, in fact I considered it to have been extremely serious business but I was too tired to split hairs.

“Let’s see whether we can’t do some damage control,” she said as I accepted her olive branch. “Where does Rosemary keep her balms?” That was three days ago.

Victoria and I stand gabbing about my latest run-in with Madame’s cane when we hear a kafuffle over by the fountain. I look over to see what is going down, just in time to see be-yotch Sally Cobb producing a red card and thrusting it in the face of my chum Jojo.

“Heyworth,” the prefect bawls at the top of her lungs. “Step up to the library I’ll be along to beat you shortly!”

Victoria and I exchange glances. She rolls her eyes. “Sheesh,” she mutters wearily.

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 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.

Debs Dangled in a Stunning New Woody Toon plus ‘A Life in the Day – Part 6’

Today’s original new Toon features poor old Debs going over Lady Victoria Brompton’s knee for damn good spanking. Once again my thanks to Dave Ell for cranking this one out in double quick time … since our return from the Thanksgiving festivities I have been under the cosh on business related activities so I was rather late in sending him the briefing … nonetheless I think that you’ll agree he’s still managed to do another fabulous job.

I’ve also added the latest installment of ‘A Life in the Day of Debs Morton’ (Parts 1-5 are posted in the ‘Seven Days of Woodys’ sidebar … so 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.

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 6

Holy Moley! The Dyke is all over Nixdown like a badly cut suit and it wasn’t my fault! Now I have to admit that despite the searing pain in my wounded sitmedown I was planning on getting my own back on Nixdown for her earlier sneak attack with her catapult but now that will have to wait. Nixdown is otherwise occupied face down arse up over a high-stool at the front of the laboratory!

I love Nix to death but she can be a belligerent soul and displaying belligerence around the Dyke is a very dodgy proposition, especially if you are wearing Nixdown’s bumbags.

Nixdown is notoriously promiscuous. She boffed her way through most of the Elite before taking up with Penny Ann on a full-time basis. We like to tease Nix that the reason that she is always in trouble with the Dyke is that Phyllis is secretly hankering for some Nixdown action and that lashing her arse with a two-tailed tawse is just her way of making overtures of affection. Nix is fond of telling us that she has high standards and that she’ll never sleep with the enemy.

In fairness to the Dyke, she may be a tough disciplinarian but she is generally an even-handed cove. We had barely taken our seats and started with the lecture before Nix interrupted the proceedings with a pithy aside. Phyllis would have been quite within her rights to immediately reach for her tawse but she elected to show Nix a yellow card instead. Personally I think Nix should have been grateful for escaping with a warning but she just glowered and started muttering her dark Nix hexes, which in my opinion was an unwise course of action. Phyllis MacAllister has zero-tolerance for such nonsense and responded by dispatching Nix to the changing rooms to remove her skirt and bumbags to prepare for a thrashing.

Nixdown only had four minutes allowed to make her preparations. The Dyke is fond of informing us that Roger Bannister ran a mile in four minutes so we should be able to cut along to a nearby changing room and rearrange our clobber in the same time. She fails to acknowledge that if Mr Bannister was on his way for a larruping he might not have been in such a hurry to finish the race.

Nixdown is looking extremely sullen as she folds herself over the stool. Nix is a quirky cove. She revels in her degeneracy and loves to regale us with stories of her late-night shenanigans with Penny Ann which regularly includes her getting her bottom warmed with a leather riding crop. In the recreational theater Nixdown loves to be spanked, however being punished in a formal setting is quite another matter and gives her the pip. Nonetheless she has no choice but to bend over.

Having removed her jacket and loosened her necktie and scarfed down a healthy shot of Famous Grouse the Dyke goes to work with Big Bertha. Nixdown is just an itty-bitty thing, barely five feet tall in her stockinged feet and weighs in at a hundred pounds or less. She has a very pert and compact bum so the long thick tawse covers a lot of surface area with each crack. When Ms Lawton claimed that women are born broad of beam and perfectly designed for six of the best she probably didn’t have lil ol’ Nix in mind.

For the past six years rarely has a day gone past without me witnessing one or the other of my chums getting caned, slippered, strapped or spanked. You’d think I would have become whop-hardened and blasé but I haven’t. It still sends a chill up my spine every-time.

The sound of leather rebounding off tautened nylon echoes around the lab. Ms MacAllister has considerable style when it comes to delivering the tawse. She gives Nix three scorchers before taking a breather and slugging down another few fingers of Grouse. Nix is a tough old bird but she is showing some clear signs of agitation as she hangs upside down waiting for the next onslaught. Her fingers are splaying, her ankles twitching and her bum is squirming slowly.

It is a full two minutes before Phyllis resumes the job at hand. Now that may not seem very long but I can assure you that when you are in Nixdown’s position it will seem like an eternity. I have been there and bought the tee-shirt. I know her mind will be racing. Half of her will be dreading the awful resumption and the other half just wanting to get it over with.

The funny thing is that when I find myself in that position I no longer give the matter of my bum being somewhat ignominiously displayed higher than my head a second thought. It is fifteen years since I first got the cane back at the Queensgate Academy and I still remember how embarrassed I felt when I was bent over the popping seat with my bumbags on display, but I have got over it. At Queensgate I got the cane eighty-three times (I have recently learned that this is a national record!) and have been punished over two-hundred and fifty times since I have been banged up at the facility so showing off my bumbags is now just routine, funny old world.

The Dyke finishes her drink and then polishes Nixdown off with three absolute crackers. Poor old Nix looks a little giddy when she is allowed to return to the vertical but she still manages to look defiant. I cross my fingers and pray that she doesn’t do something reckless like hacking the Dyke in the shins. Nix can be a little volatile in these types of circumstances.

Thankfully Nix just produces her punishment record book and hands it over, but I can tell by the glint in her eyes that she is having dark thoughts. I shift my weight in my seat which proves to be unwise as I am treated to a sharp jolt of pain in my rear end. Watching Nix getting whopped has momentarily distracted me from the searing stripes in my bumbags. It is my turn to scowl. It will be another hour until I will have an opportunity to walk them off. A lot can happen in an hour.

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 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 and RH … Back from Vacation

My Beloved Jojo and I have finally returned from a wonderful vacation and after settling back into the homestead the Unit will be back up and running. My thanks to all our guests that have been rummaging around the site and particularly to y’all who bought the books available from Woodettes Publications during our absence.

We have commissioned some brand spanking new Woody Toons from Dave Ell and they will be posted as soon as they are ready … please continue to have a good rummage … Bottoms Up! … RH