The Spanking Art Wiki – A Gift to the Community

I have occasionally mentioned the fantastic Wiki put together by Spankart, ‘The Spanking Art Wiki’. This is a truly awesome work of labor and love. It is also a community project. The Wiki operates just like Wikipedia, and can be updated and edited by the public (that would be … you). Spankart’s wiki does not limit itself to just show-casing artwork it also features lists of authors, one of the most comprehensive blog-rolls available on the net, and numerous articles on the Fine Art of Spanking. You can set up your own page and contribute articles if you feel so inclined. I would strongly encourage everyone to take a detour over to the site and have a good rummage about … if you like what you see feel free to contribute. This is our own specialized Wiki for our own very special community. Great work and a big hand for Spankart!

This weekend has been particularly successful for the unit and we hosted an enormous amount of guests. There is no question that this peak in readership is due to the fact that Chross was kind enough to include us in his round-up of ‘Spankings of the Week’. Over the past nine months the Woody Back to School Unit has achieved a respectable and quite stable readership, most days the number of visitors is within plus or minus five per cent of our daily average. However, on the occasions that Chross selects one of our posts for inclusion in his lists the number of hits increases dramatically. Even when the initial weekend peak dies down the residual effect is generally a significant increase in steady-state daily readership. We all blog for different reasons but ultimately, I should imagine, we are pleased to see that guests from all over the globe are taking time-out in their busy daily schedules to come and take a squint at our offerings. So once again a huge thanks to Chross for being generous enough to include us in this week’s round-up.

Chross was the recipient of a 2009 Woody Back to School Unit ‘Five Red Bums Award’ for exceptional community services to the spanking community.

On Wednesday next week we are planning on launching ‘Volume 3 – A Year of Sitting Painfully’, absolutely FREE for download … I am in the process of writing two more cartoon briefings so Our Man in Phuket, Dave Ell, can get them ready for next weekend … until then work will probably interfere with much blogging activity … so it’s Sunday, the sun is over the yardarm somewhere so … pour a mimosa or Bloody Mary and kick-back … have a rummage about and if you like what you see please keep on dropping by … your visits are greatly appreciated … Bottoms Up! … RH

Stunning New Woody Toon – A Lunchtime Licking

Today’s brand new toon is loosely based on an episode from Volume 2 – Operation Scorched Arse. The evil creature causing mischief and mayhem in Rosemary Booker’s bumbags is the Commandant of the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers, Miss Yvonne Godfrey.

The Secret Sorority, known to the Woody Wags as the SS, are covert agents of the dastardly Dames from the Radical Right of the Brass, Patricia Hodge, The Wart, and Katie Beck. Over the coming weeks as we launch more FREE full-length books you will learn of the heinous activities of such arch-villainesses as Yvonne ‘the Ice Maiden’ Godfrey, Janet ‘Mitch the Bitch’ Mitchell, Juliet ‘Spanker’ Spage, Jackie ‘Ivan the Terrible’ Ivanhoe, and Jayne ‘Undies’ Underley as they conspire to make life uncomfortable for the inmates at the unit. So hold on to your bumbags and keep checking back for new editions of the Woody Back to School Unit saga as they are released.

Once again my compliments to Dave Ell for adding new graphic perspectives to translating my stories into brief illustrations … some brilliant facials in this one and panel three is a pretty inventive view of the world (I guess that depends on which end of the cane you are) … so well done again Mr Ell … so enjoy the cartoons … download the books … kick-back and have a great start to the weekend … 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.

Sizzling New Woody Toon – Operation Scorched Arse

This is one of the companion cartoon piece’s to the full-length version of Volume 2 – Operation Scorched Arse which we launched this week. I think you will all agree that Our Man in Phuket, the illustrator Dave Ell did absolutely fabulous work on the detail of some of the many characters featured in the saga … see what you think …. I’m in a work crunch so just enjoy the toon, download the book, pour a glass of cheap vino and kick-back … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

Operation Scorched Arse and a Woody Toon Teaser

I am pleased to report that the launch of Operation Scorched Arse was a resounding success. Clearly our guests are partial to free books and who can blame them in this day and age? We have finished two new and completely original companion Woody Toons to accompany the book launch … so check back tomorrow … in the meantime please continue to download and enjoy the first two installments of the Woody Back to School Unit saga …. ‘Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber’ and ‘Volume 2 – Operation Scorched Arse’  and generally rummage about … Bottoms Up! … RH

Completely New and Free Woody Book

As promised we are pleased to announce the absolutely ‘FREE’ launch of ‘Volume 2 – Operation Scorched Arse’ for the entertainment of our guests. Just click on the title link to download the .pdf file … some accompanying artwork is scheduled for the weekend so check back … in the meantime just kick back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Holy Smoke – Exciting New Woody Announcement

When I established this page it was intended merely to be a sales outlet for my sweeping saga of books but a lot has happened in the past nine months. Book sales have been reasonable but to be honest, as My Beloved Jojo accurately points out I just give too much away for this to be a profitable enterprise. So I have decided to change my sales strategy and just give everything away for FREE!

This site has never been a cheap undertaking; I pay to protect the copyrights of the books and also pay for Dave Ell’s illustrative work and the right to own the copyright of the Woody Toons … but that is my choice. It may be an expensive hobby but it’s my hobby and I am fortunate to have the collaborative support in this endeavor from my cherished wife, My Beloved Jojo.

So here is my plan … I am going to post full versions of Volumes 2 thru 5 of the saga on each Wednesday(ish) over the next four weeks … and I will commission appropriate artwork from Dave Ell to accompany the specifics of the books and post over the weekends. As time permits I will add the illustrations to each book for your enhanced enjoyment.

Paperback hard copies will still be available at Woodettes Publications along with the Lulu, Amazon and Barnes and Noble internet outlet stores. However, a warning to the aspiring self-publisher, these supposedly altruistic organizations appear to be peopled by gypsies, tramps and thieves trained to scavenge every last penny out of you with hidden fees. As an author you have no say in this division of spoils and will rarely be paid even the few cents that their mysterious governing bodies may have allocated you despite your contractual arrangements. Just try suing them and you will find armies of suits coming out of the woodwork!

In the fullness of time I shall decide what to do with the other Volumes 6 – 36, but in the meantime please enjoy each new free volume as they are released.

Due to personal and business commitments the schedule might be a little shaky, so please be patient and bear with me, it will all work out for the best … and if you land here for the first time have a good old rummage … there’s already a lot to read and see … Enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Great Find

It is always great to find a new (at least to me) exceptionally articulate blog. I know that many of you amongst our community have known this lady for some time but somehow she had slipped under my radar.

So a big Woody welcome to Indy who posts over at Not So Submissive … she’s well worth a visit.

I am in a work crunch so no time to blog but stay and have a good old rummage about … there’s plenty to see and read … as always … Bottoms Up! … RH

The Wart’s Comeuppance – The Collector’s Edition

It appears many of my guests appreciate it when the evil elements of the Brass at the Woody Back to School Unit get their comeuppance. The recent story about the arch-villainess Ms Wharton’s bumbags ending up on the wrong end of a cane attracted a remarkable number of hits. I have added the complete story in fully illustrated book format to the Complimentary Book box in the side-bar (The Wart’s Comeuppance).

I have also updated the Collector’s edition of the complete set of Woody Toons. It’s a Powerpoint slideshow so it takes a few minutes to download but I think it’s worthwhile. It’s a great way to study how brilliantly the artist Dave Ell interprets my stories.

I have noticed a trend of bloggers overhauling their pages and reorganizing and redesigning. Both Ian over at YEOWCH! and MarQe at his Study did magnificent jobs. The latest renovation I noticed was over at Lady Karens Echoes of My Mind. Lady Karen is a wonderfully honest and funny blogger. She certainly wears her heart on her sleeve so stop by and have a read. Good job, Ma’am.

Personally I made a terrible choice when I designed this page … I decided that I would ignore the template concept and automatic widgets and write everything in HTML … quite frankly this was not a good idea and as a result it would be quite difficult and extraordinarily time-consuming to do any redecorating so, sorry gang, you’re stuck with this look for better or worse.

It’s Sunday and RH is on cooking duty while My Beloved Jojo hollers her head off at the big games this afternoon … so I need to say ciao for now … but please hang around and have a good rummage, there’s lots to see and read … splash out … have a mimosa or a Bloody Mary … kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

If you are enjoying the Toon Collection and the book-extracts and you have finished reading the complimentary Volume 1 – Whops and Clobber  (with its swanky new cover) 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 Part 2 – Bad Day in WartWorld

This is the second part of a brand new story and Woody Toon. I understand that the Toon may be a little confusing, especially Panel 3. It certainly confused My Man in Phuket, the artist and my collaborator, poor old Dave Ell, but hopefully the accompanying story clarifies what is going on.

Sometimes it is quite difficult to take a more complex story-line and convert it into a four- panel toon, but it is great fun experimenting and as usual Dave Ell’s drawing is outstanding … it’s Saturday so pour a glass of chardonnay then just kick-back and enjoy Part 2 … 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.

Part Two – Bad Day in WartWorld

Debs did her best to catch her breath as the pain ratcheted through her central nervous system. The first stroke had been an absolute scorcher and she was in no doubt that she was in for a very hot and sweaty few minutes.

There was something terribly ominous about the sound of Patsy’s high heels clicking and clacking on the wooden floor as she walked back up the library to her staring mark. Deborah stared down at the floor. Beside her she could hear the Wart cackling. She gritted her teeth determinedly. She would never give the odious Dame the satisfaction of seeing just how terribly the cane was hurting her.

Patsy licked her lips and set off at a trot, accelerating as she made her final approach and swooping down. She slashed the cane down across Deborah’s unprotected bare flesh with a resounding thwack.

She hated being forced to participate in the Wart’s dastardly plan. The problem with delivering running benders was there was no way to pull the strokes. All she could do was to make sure every stroke landed in the safe zone across the crown of Debs buttocks, known amongst the Woody Wags as the sweet spot.

The Wart poured another large shot of tequila. She was having tremendous fun. She had always disliked Deborah intensely. She had beaten Debs on numerous occasions but Deborah had never treated her with anything but the utmost contempt. The sound of the cane rebounding off Deborah’s naked flesh was music to her ears.

~~~ooo~~~

Cathryn Cassidy hurried into Lady Victoria Brompton’s study.

“There’s something going down in the library,” she told the Red-shirt urgently. “I just got word that the Wart has drafted Patsy in to beat Debs on Red House business. There’s something fishy going on.”

Victoria Brompton grabbed her smart-phone and speed-dialed.

“I’m sorry to bother you Grand Master, but I think we may have a situation up in the library,” she said.

~~~ooo~~~

Debs was not having a good time of it. Over the past decade and a half Deborah’s rear end had become a highly calibrated whopometer. She was in no doubt whatsoever that she was experiencing some world class whops. The first five strokes had been sensational. Somehow she had managed to keep her fingers glued to the tips of her pointed shoes so that the Wart couldn’t call foul strokes for jerking. It had taken all her willpower to put it up and keep it up.

She knew the worst was still to come.

Patsy sliced the cane down diagonally. It was a perfect strike. A red line immediately etched across Deborah’s naked nates, intersecting with the first five strokes to create a five-bar gate.

Debs whole body convulsed, her head shook from side to side in anguish, but somehow she managed to stay down. She panted in consternation but at least it was over.

Debs reached down to retrieve her bumbags.

“Oh no you don’t, Morton,” hissed the Wart. “We haven’t finished with you yet.” She turned to Patsy. “Give her another six.”

Patsy gaped at the Dame. “I’ll do no such thing,” she spluttered. She glanced over at Debs. Deborah’s face was flushed and her mouth set in a thin line. Her eyes were wide open as Ms Wharton’s words penetrated through the blur of pain she was experiencing.

“Miss Cobb failed to beat Morton for her last act of dereliction of duty, I shall be dealing with her later,” said the Wart. “In the meantime bend Morton over and give her six more. That is an order.”

Patsy continued to gape. Debs face had contorted into a ghastly grimace.

“This is ridiculous Ma’am,” said Patsy. “You’ve gone too far already. I won’t do this.”

“You may be on probation Butcher but I can still have you flogged for insubordination,” snapped the Wart, “and as for Morton, if you do not beat her immediately I shall convene a special session of the House Council and charge her with Serial Malfeasance and Bringing the House into Disrepute. I feel sure that I shall carry the vote.”

Deborah’s mind was racing. It was all too terrible.

“Let’s get this over with,” Debs said finally and turned around and bent over in front of the fireplace.

Patsy Butcher turned and walked back down the library with a heavy tread. She was just about to set off at a run when the door swung open.

Mr Humphries walked in with his hands in his pockets. “Stand down, Butcher,” he said as he walked into the room. “Deborah, you can get up now.” He approached the Wart who looked shocked.

“What’s going on here?” he asked the Dame.

~~~ooo~~~

The Wart wrang her hands and gnashed her teeth while she waited outside the Grand Master’s study. Inside the office Patsy and Deborah were giving their account of events that had occurred in the library. Ms Wharton had no doubt that they were painting a bleak picture. She heard her name being called and went into the study.

“But she deserved to be thrashed,” wailed the Wart. “I am Mistress of the House and I have full authority to discipline members on a discretionary basis.”

So far the interview had not gone well for the Wart. Mr Humphries did not appear in the least bit sympathetic towards her explanations of why she had felt it necessary to have Deborah subjected to a running bare bender. In fact he had been rather dismissive of her arguments. It was all most disconcerting.

Mr Humphries leaned back in his seat. He had been the Grand Master at the Woody Back to School Unit for eight weeks now and was justifiably proud of the progress he had made. The previous year his predecessor Ms Lawton had instituted an austere regime code-named Operation Scorched Arse in an attempt to curb the rise of the subversive Cult of Mega-Minxdom. She admitted that the campaign had not been a success and had been open to abuse from the cruel Dames from the Radical Right and the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers.

Upon his arrival Mr Humphries had outlawed the practices of hostile targeting and insisted that the Dames submit written justification for their disciplinary activities.

Over the past weeks he had become increasingly impressed with the performance of Lady Victoria Brompton as Red-shirt at the facility. Despite her reputation as a pugnacious potty-mouth she was proving to be even-handed and level-headed. She ruled over her Elite corps with an iron fist and the back of her lethal wood-backed hairbrush. She had prohibited her Elite from indulging the heinous practices of collaring, sweating and sporting spanking, and the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers was now a spent force.

Nonetheless, the Grand Master was aware that he still had much work to do. Patty Hodge, the Deputy Grand Dame and Commandant of the Radical Right, considered that his Woody Glasnost, as she termed it, was an error of judgment and covertly instructed her cronies to continue to lay siege to the bumbags of the inmates. Miss Robin Wharton was one her key aides and top operatives.

Like his predecessor the Grand Master faced a dilemma. Ten years earlier when the government had first introduced the experimental Back to School Unit’s and the social rehabilitation programs they had scoured the nation for the top disciplinarians. For almost two decades Robin Wharton had appeared amongst the highest echelons of the Ministry of Educations list of leading martinets, which coupled with her reputation as a fine educator had made her a prime candidate for recruitment.

The Grand Master had studied Ms Wharton’s records during her time at Woodys. Her whop-rate was prolific; every year she caned significantly more inmates than any other member of the Brass. He also observed that she rarely issued the warning yellow cards suggested in the ‘Guidelines for Thrashing’. Curiously nearly every offence the inmates were charged with in her lecture room were of the nature that attracted a ‘mandatory caning’. He also observed that the number of gals beaten on Red House Business far out-weighed the beatings carried out by the Blue House. The majority of Red House beatings were carried out on the specific instructions of Ms Robin Wharton in her position of Mistress of the House.

The Grand Master had no doubt that Ms Wharton’s used her harsh interpretations of the rules, regulations and protocols to satisfy her need to maintain the fix’s she required as a certified Whop Junkie.

Nonetheless, in the current prevailing liberal attitudes towards corporal punishment finding a replacement martinet of the Warts caliber and experience would be a challenging task. As Ms Wharton had pointed out, “she is a necessary evil.”

He was also aware that the bumbags of Debs Morton were particularly at risk. Although he had formally rescinded her status as Public Enemy Number One and warned the Brass that she was no longer to be targeted with extreme prejudice she still spent a considerable amount of time bending forward at the waist. Despite her legions of admirers Deborah also had an unfortunate habit of attracting enemies, not the least of whom was Ms Wharton. During the year of Operation Scorched Arse the Wart had taken advantage of Deborah’s unfortunate status as Ms Lawton’s bête noir and had caned her more than any other inmate at the facility. He had no doubt that the events in the library were the result of Ms Wharton’s malicious obsession with creating havoc inside Deborah’s bumbags.

He was barely listening to the Wart’s increasingly indignant justifications for her actions, it was grating on his nerves.

“Ms Wharton, that is enough,” he said finally. “As far as I am concerned you have stepped well-outside the boundaries of your authority. I am going to offer you several choices. I shall leave it for you to decide how we will proceed.”

~~~ooo~~~

Deborah and Patsy had to revive the Wart with smelling salts after she had fainted. They helped her into an easy chair.

“Take your time, Ms Wharton,” counseled the Grand Master. “I would not like you to make any rash decisions.”

The Wart promptly burst into floods of tears.

~~~ooo~~~

“Katie,” the Grand Master instructed, “please find Ms Wharton a set of clobber. Once she is suitably attired take her down to the Great Hall and set up the vaulting horse. At six o’clock assemble the unit; we are going to have ourselves a Public Flogging.”

Katie Beck gaped at the Grand Master. She knew from personal experience that Mr Humphries was willing to go to unusual lengths to demonstrate his point of view. On two occasions the Grand Master had considered Katie’s interpretations of the protocols known as the ‘Politics of Clobber’ to be overly conservative. He had emphasized his opinion with Katie head down, arse up over his knee.

Patty and the Wart had teased her mercilessly in the saloon bar of the Bunch of Grapes.

“He can do that to you because you’re only semi-Brass, he’d never dare to do that to real Brass,” the Wart had told Katie imperiously. It had given Katie a severe dose of the pip.

“I’ll be happy too,” Katie Beck said gleefully. “Come with me, Warty one.”

“Have you ever used a cane?” The Grand Master asked Deborah after Katie and the Wart had left the study.

Debs shook her head.

“Well this is the time for you to learn,” said Mr Humphries. “Patsy, take Deborah down to the practice range and get her fully certified. We’ll reconvene back here in an hour.”

~~~ooo~~~

Deborah’s best chums Rosemary, Jojo and Nix were concerned for the well-being of their friend’s bumbags. She had not been seen since she had been summoned to the library and she was noticeable by her absence when they assembled in the Great Hall.

Unusually when Katie Beck had issued the instructions over the intercom for the inmates to repair to the hall to witness a public flogging she had not announced the name of the unfortunate recipient.

The ominous vaulting horse on the stage and Deborah’s absence gave her chums good reason to believe that it was poor Debs who was about to be flogged.

~~~ooo~~~

Rosemary, Jojo and Nix sighed in unison as the doors to the hall swung open and Mr Humphries entered followed by Deborah Morton. Their sighs changed to gasps as seconds later Robin Wharton shuffled into the hall.

The Dame was dressed in ill-fitting clobber. Katie had found a gymslip that was indecently short and barely covered the Warts navy blue bumbags. A shield with the letter ‘W’ had been sewn onto the bib. Robin Wharton was a creature of significant girth and she looked as if she had been shoe-horned into the garments. She followed the Grand Master and Deborah up onto the stage with her head lowered. She looked pitiful and bereft of dignity.

The Grand Master gave a brief but pointed speech assuring the inmates that abuse of privilege by the Brass would not be tolerated. He promised to review the appeals process, which he acknowledged the inmates rarely resorted to as under the current protocols a failed appeal resulted in the inmates receiving double the amount of strokes.

Throughout the speech the Wart stood with her head hung low and her shoulders pumping as she sobbed and blubbered in her despair.

The Grand Master looked over at Deborah. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Sir,” she responded with as much confidence as she could muster.

Patsy stepped forward and helped Deborah out of her blazer. Debs rolled up her cuffs and loosened her tie before accepting the thirty-six inch long rattan cane.

“Ms Wharton, please remove your blazer and bend over the horse,” instructed the Grand Master.

Katie Beck stepped forward and retrieved the Wart’s red and black striped blazer. She made no effort to disguise her glee at Ms Wharton’s misfortune.

The Wart took some persuading before she bent over. She pleaded and begged, sobbed and wailed that it was all a terrible misunderstanding. It was only when Mr Humphries threatened to have her physically bound down over the equipment that she finally complied.

~~~ooo~~~

Robin Wharton felt the hem of her navy blue gymslip being slowly turned back. Huge wet tears were dripping on the floor of the stage. She felt giddy and befuddled; she still had difficulty grasping how she had come to be in this ignominious position.

The Grand Master had offered the Dame two options, she could pack her trunks and leave the facility for good, or she could accept a suitable punishment to amend for her sins.  

The punishment on offer was to allow herself to be subjected to a public flogging. In addition she would spend the subsequent four weeks required to dress in full clobber and would be assigned to work as a grubby on the Elite landing. Members of the Elite would be granted full spanking rights while the Dame was on duty.

Unpalatable as the latter option was to the Wart, the first option was even worse. In the world outside the bricked walls of the Woody compound use of the cane had become unfashionable. If she chose to resign she was sentencing herself to a life as a Whop Junkie with little or no chance of ever scoring a fix. It was just too terrible to consider.

~~~ooo~~~

Deborah Morton flexed the cane between her hands and took several deep breaths to calm herself. She had spent forty-five minutes on the practice range taking instruction from Patsy in the fine art of caning and getting certified. After overcoming her initial nerves she had shown herself to be a natural with a cane. Even by the normal high standards of a professional tennis player her eye-ball coordination had been considered astonishing and her racquet control exceptional. Years of hitting hundreds of thousands of tennis balls had made her wrists remarkably strong. She quickly learned that she did not need to use much of a back-swing, the secret to controlling the shaft and tip of the cane was to finish the stroke with a flick of the wrist, accelerating the whippy stick to Mach One.

Nonetheless, raising the dust from the bumbags of a mannequin was one thing but the prospect delivering her first thrashing in real-life was altogether more daunting.

Debs set her feet and concentrated. She tapped the cane down once, twice, thrice across the tautened bumbags that appeared to be constructed from enough material to make a set of drapes for a reasonable sized bay window. She pulled her arm back and swung the cane.

The Warts response was instantaneous. She screamed and squealed, her body convulsed, her legs scissored, her head shook and her fists pummeled the air.

The inmates in the hall exchanged glances. There were very few of them who had not been subjected to a beating from the Wart. She was the most despised member of the Brass; the sight of her getting her comeuppance was a treat that they had never expected to experience. However, her response had astonished them. The inmates of the Woody Back to School Unit lived by the credo that ‘only muffs howl’. Over the years they had witnessed dozens public floggings; the recipients gracing the stage with pride and stoicism. Never had they seen a reaction of the theatrical scale of Ms Wharton’s.

Deborah felt her nerves dissipate. The first stroke had gone off swimmingly; the cane had landed perfectly within the sweet spot. She settled in. She planned to deliver a long, leisurely caning with thirty second intervals between strokes. However, the Wart was not cooperating. She continued to wriggle and squirm long after the interval had elapsed.

Mr Humphries was not given to irritability but he was clearly becoming vexed. “Ms Wharton, cease those ridiculous noises and stay still,” he told her. “If you do not put it up and keep it up I shall be compelled to have you restrained.”

Deborah forced herself to maintain her concentration and not allow herself to be distracted by the Dame’s pathetic blubbing and sniveling. Debs would not have been blamed if she had succumbed to the temptation to thrash the bejaysus out of the Wart but she showed admirable restraint. She delivered every stroke with the same measured control and accuracy.

“She’s good,” whispered Nixdown admiringly.

Jojo and Rosemary nodded sagely. “This is a world class whopping,” agreed Jojo.

“What a fucking muff,” Rosemary opined about the Wart.

The flogging was proving to be a laborious process. Despite Mr Humphries chiding the Wart continued to blub and howl, and her bumbags constantly wriggled like an unset jelly. She took considerable coercion between each stroke to settle down so that Deborah had a steady target to aim at. The Grand Master considered dispatching Katie to collect some striped ties from her inventory and tying the Wart into position but figured it would just prolong the performance.

Debs took a deep breath. She was determined to close the flogging with the same consummate skill with which she had delivered the first eleven strokes. She adjusted her stance slightly and slashed the cane down diagonally.

The Warts response was deafening. Her screams were in danger of shattering the windows.

“Holy smoking bumbags, that was one helluva whop,” giggled Nixdown.

“Looked like it was designed to cut the Wart in two,” agreed Jojo.

“Well now we know that The Wart might be able to dish it out but she certainly can’t take it,” observed Rosemary.

“What a fucking muff,” chorused the three chums cheerily.

Robin Wharton stood on the stage sobbing and moaning. She looked disheveled and forlorn.

“Katie take this fool upstairs and clean her up, she looks like she’s been dragged through a hedge backwards, I’ll see her in my study in thirty minutes,” said the Grand Master. “We need to discuss her grubby schedule.”

The inmates stomped their feet and whooped and cheered as Robin Wharton was dejectedly escorted from the stage.

~~~ooo~~~

“I’m really sorry about earlier, sis,” said Patsy ashamedly. “I should have stood up to her.”

“And risked being sent back inside?” replied Debs. “She stitched both of us up like kippers; there was nothing either of us could do.” She reached over and hugged Patsy. “Don’t worry; you can’t break me with a cane, but sis I have to say you are still hot stuff.”

Patsy returned Deborah’s hug. “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black, next year when you’re a member of the Elite gawd help the gal’s bumbags. That was a sensational swishing!”

~~~ooo~~~

“He had no right to treat me like that,” wailed the Wart in the saloon bar of the Bunch of Grapes. Understandably she had elected not to perch her frazzled rear end on a bar-stool and was propping up the bar slamming back tequilas at Olympic rate. “I have a good mind to report him to the Ministry.”

“Yeah rock on Warty-one,” grinned Patty Hodge. “The only reason you agreed to be flogged is because you’re a Whop Junkie and this is the only place you’re guaranteed a fix. Hey, it was only whops.”

“So much for your theory that he wouldn’t dare do that to real Brass,” gloated Katie.

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!” growled the Wart and slammed down a healthy shot of tequila that she charged to Katie Beck’s tab.

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 – A Running Bender

This is the first part of a brand new story and Woody Toon. Yesterday I posted a brief primer into the odious character known to the Woody Wags as the Wart. Today we find her in action.

I think that you’ll agree that Dave Ell has excelled himself with detail, characterization and coloration … well done Dave! … Part Two of the story and toon is scheduled for tomorrow so set your clocks … Kick-back and enjoy Part 1 … 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 an appropriate acknowledgment to the source.

Part One – A Running Bender

“Ms Wharton wants to see you up in the library,” the House Grubby informed Deborah Morton.

Debs scowled. The grubby took a step backwards, nervous that Debs might hack her in the shins.

“Don’t shoot me I’m just the messenger,” said the grubby hurriedly. “By the way, Ms Wharton instructed me to tell you to cut along sharpish. She was looking pretty shirty.”

Deborah just rolled her eyes and nodded dismissively at the grubby. She did not feel the least bit inclined to cut along sharpish to anywhere and most certainly not to the library for a chin-wag with the Wart. A summons to appear before the Mistress of the House was never pleasant in Deborah’s experience and rarely ended favorably for the health or safety of her bumbags.

She wracked her brains to think of any reason that could have caused her to have been  summonsed. To the best of her knowledge she had fulfilled all her House duties including acting as a kitchen assistant earlier in the day.

Deborah was not generally of a nervous disposition but as she cut through the labyrinth of hallways, corridors and stair-wells of the vast complex she grew increasingly dejected. Her relationship with the Wart had never been good and she was quite certain that the Mistress of the House would have some heinous plan to make things unpleasant for her. She was resigned to the fact that there was a ninety-five per cent certainty that she was being summoned to be caned, for some unknown reason and undoubtedly bogus pretext. That would be unpleasant enough, although six strokes from the House Captain, Sally Cobb, would be nothing more than a minor inconvenience to a whop-hardened veteran like Debs. She was more concerned by the prospect of having to endure an unsavory ration of tongue pie from the odious Wart.

She finally reached the long landing that led to the unit library and trudged towards the large oak door. Over the past six years Deborah Morton had spent a considerable amount of time standing in the corridor outside the library door, with her hands on her head and her nose pressed to the wall, waiting to be caned.

She took a deep breath and swung the door open. She crossed the light and airy reading area until she reached a second door. She knocked. She heard the unmistakable sound of the Wart’s voice bellowing “Come” as if she was a lost puppy. With trembling fingers she opened the door and stepped in.

It took several seconds to acclimatize herself to the shadowy darkness after the bright lights of the study area. The Wart was seated in a leather armchair positioned beside the fireplace at the far end of the library. Debs blinked her eyes. To her surprise standing alongside the Wart was Patsy Butcher dressed in her official Elite regalia. There was no sign of Sally Cobb. To Deborah’s consternation she couldn’t help noticing that Patsy was tapping the tip of a long crook-handled cane against the side of her high-heeled shoe.

Patsy Butcher had completed her seven year sentence at the Woody Back to School Unit at the end of the previous year. She was now released on probation and lived in the local town, where she was training as a sports therapist. For twelve months she remained under the jurisdiction of the Unit and her activities were monitored to ensure that she was adhering to the requirements of her social rehabilitation certification.

During her last year at the unit Patsy had served as the Captain of the Red House. Patsy and Debs were tight, they worked out together regularly in the Wellness Center. Nonetheless, Patsy’s tenure had coincided with Deborah being branded Public Enemy Number One at the unit and open season being declared on her bumbags. As Mistress of the Red House the Wart had exploited Deborah’s unfortunate position and she had been subjected to several painful altercations with Patsy’s cane on Ms Whartons instruction.

With a sense of trepidation Debs made her way down the library. The Wart took a long snort of tequila and rose unsteadily to her feet. Deborah suspected that she might be some way into her cups. She couldn’t help noticing that Patsy was looking decidedly uncomfortable.

“Put your hands on your head, young lady,” snapped the Wart.

Deborah glared at her but did as she was told.

“You are a bone idle, inconsiderate degenerate, Morton,” said the Wart. “You failed to turn up for weeding duty and the Blue House has applied for our House to be fined fifteen penalty points.”

“Weeding duty?” asked Deborah incredulously. “I wasn’t on the roster for weeding duty.” She was taken by surprise and her incredulity was genuine.

“The roster was revised; one of our work-force had to visit the infirmary. The new roster was posted at lunch-time, so there was plenty of time for you to review you schedule, there is absolutely no excuse for your wanton dereliction of duty,” snapped the Wart.

Debs heart began to beat uncomfortably fast. She did not like the direction the conversation was taking.

“You have already been beaten twice this year on House Business. Remind me Morton, what were your offenses on those occasions?” asked the Wart.

Debs sighed. “Cutting work details, but …” Debs was forced to admit.

“No buts’, Morton!” snapped the Wart. “And the House was fined on both occasions?”

“Yes, Ma’am but,” started Debs.

“No buts I said, one more but out of you and I will put you over my knee and spank you,” said the Wart. She leaned forward in Deborah’s face with her hands on her hips. “Your serial negligence is unforgiveable,” she stormed. “The rest of the House is working hard and you just fritter away points due to your inconsiderate indolence.”

Debs stared at the Wart. It was ridiculous. Even taking the fines into account she was by far the highest accumulator of credits accumulator in the whole House. “But …” she began to object.

“Do you really want me to spank you?” screamed the Wart.

“No, Ma’am,” muttered Debs.

“I intend to make an example of you Morton, I have drafted Butcher in to give you a running bender,” the Wart informed Debs.

“Is this really necessary, Ma’am?” interjected Patsy.

The Wart span around, her eyes blazing. “It is absolutely necessary and seeing as none of my Red House prefects’ are certified to give running benders then it is your responsibility as a former Captain of the House to deliver the beating. It will look very bad on your probation report if you should choose to willfully disobey a direct order from one of your probation observers.”

Patsy pursed her lips. Momentarily she shot a glance and their eyes met. They were both being stitched up like kippers.

“You have the right to appeal and go before the House Council,” said Patsy.

“That is correct, Butcher, Morton can file an appeal and I shall file an application for her to be subjected to a Formal House Beating for Serial Dereliction of Duty,” retorted the Wart.

Debs considered this option. She felt that she might have a reasonable defense due to the late posting of the roster. However, most of her close Elite chums were on the Blue House council and were of no help. She didn’t think that she had any particular enemies, aside from Sally ‘Be-yotch’ Cobb on the Red House Council but she was not confident that any of the prefects would risk defying the clear wishes of the Mistress of the House just to save her bumbags.

If she lost the appeal she was certain that the Wart would be successful in her move that she should to be subjected to a Formal House Beating. Not only would that doubtless involve twelve strokes instead of six but she would also face the abject humiliation of a full-collar walk-through the landings. During the dark year of Operation Scorched Arse she had been forced to endure the ignominy of being escorted through the landings with a prefect roughly holding her by the scruff of her neck and twisting her arm up behind her back on three occasions. The thought of another repeat of these appalling episodes made her feel quite bilious.

“I’m not appealing,” she said tightly, “I’ll take my whops.”

Deborah watched Patsy shrug off her blazer. There was no question her chum was a magnificent creature. Standing over six-feet in her high-heels, her long dreadlocks reaching almost to her waist, her athletes legs seeming to reach up to beneath her armpits and her blouse seeming to cling to her muscular torso like a second skin made her appear positively Amazonian. Debs watched as the Rastafarian beauty rolled back her cuffs and loosened her tie.

“I’m going to need you to remove your blazer and bend over in front of the fireplace,” Patsy said, not unkindly.

Debs lowered her arms. Her eye caught Patsy’s again, they exchanged a resigned glance. They knew that they were just pawns in the Wart’s malicious game.

The Wart had settled herself back into an easy chair and lit a cigarette. She had brought a bottle of Patron tequila along to help her enjoy the spectacle.

Debs took off her blazer and hung it up. Unenthusiastically she approached the fireplace and bent down and touched her toes. It was one of the least favored positions for being caned amongst the inmates as it was difficult to maintain whilst under hostile fire. However, Deborah’s exercise regime had made her exceptionally limber and she felt little strain on her calves and thighs.

She could hear the click of Patsy’s feet behind her and then felt her chum gently turning back the hem of her navy blue pleated skirt into little folds. She felt Patsy tug on the tail of her blouse and turn that back too. She suddenly felt very exposed.

“Kill the bumbags,” chortled the Wart.

There was a momentary silence in the room. “I’m not authorized to do that Ma’am,” objected Patsy.

“I am authorizing you, Butcher, just do as you are told,” said the Wart.

“But Ma’am, the House Charter does not allow me to deliver a bare bender,” said Patsy.

“The House Charter allows the House Mistress to decide such matters,” snorted the Wart.

“But Ma’am, the Unit Charter over-rides that, I am not authorized,” said Patsy emphatically.

“I can assure you Butcher that I am working within the protocols, I shall write up the justification, now get on with it,” snapped Robin Wharton.

“And if I refuse?” asked Patsy.

“I’ll put in a report to the probationary arm of the System,” said the Wart and poured another healthy hit of tequila. “You’ll be resentenced.”

“That’s bullshit, I’ll take my chances,” said Patsy obstinately.

“Oh for gawd’s sake Patsy,” muttered Debs from her stooped position. “Just kill the bumbags!!!”

Patsy contemplated poking the Wart in the eye with one of her long fingernails, but finally thought better of it. She finally laid aside the cane and reached forward. She put her thumbs inside the elastic waistband of Deborah’s tautened navy blue gossamer bumbags and slowly rolled them down. She turned away, retrieved the cane and after glaring at the Wart she paced back along the wooden floorboards, the click of her heels the only sound in the room. She chalked a mark on the floor and began to gather herself.

Patsy Butcher tapped the tip of the cane on the floor and set off running.

Debs braced herself, she knew the pain would be excruciating. Even the thin protection of the most threadbare pair of bumbags took a miniscule bite out of the sensation of a rattan cane whipping across bare flesh. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

The cane swiped down.

“Holy Smoke!” thought Debs Morton.

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.

Woody Toon Teaser – Introducing the Wart

This is a teaser from the new two-part Woody Toon which introduces the arch-villainess Ms Robin Wharton, aka as the Wart.

The full cartoons will be available tomorrow and Friday, so set your clocks. The drafts look astounding but production has been slowed down as Our Man in Phuket, Dave Ell, claims to be suffering from a potentially incurable hangover. So in the mean-time meet Ms Robin Wharton … this is her story! Kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

The Wart sat on her usual bar-stool in the saloon bar of the Bunch of Grapes. She was feeling lonely and miserable. Without the alluring presence of Patty and Katie the local lothario’s were ignoring her. Robin Wharton acknowledged that she had allowed herself to go to seed. Years of hard drinking, heavy smoking and a fondness for her tucker had taken their toll. She had once been a vibrant beauty with a certain charm that she had used to her advantage.

At school despite her reputation as an odious sneak and bully who would sacrifice her best friend’s bumbags to avoid getting caned herself she still managed to attract a circle of sycophants. She treated them like her personal staff and they were expected to confess to Robin’s sins whenever there were whops on the horizon. She was one of the few gals at the school who navigated the first six years without a single stroke of the cane slashing across her bumbags.

She campaigned assiduously for the role of Head Prefect. She toadied up to the Brass and made herself indispensible to the outgoing Headgal. Although by nature she was bone idle and was not in the least bit interested in performing the mundane administrative functions expected of her it was the authority to cane the other pupils that attracted her to the position. Having installed a cadre of her sycophants in key roles, to lessen her tiresome burden, she embarked on a frenzy of whops.

The system operated at the school gave her the authority to cane gals in the privacy of her study without the matter being entered into the official record. It was a system open for abuse and Robin abused it liberally. Although she was only sanctioned to deliver three strokes in an individual session many diarists recall that she would often cane them multiple times on the same day.

Despite their pain and suffering the pupils were forced to endure her tyranny without complaint. The alternative was a trip to the Headmistress’s study where the punishments were more severe and were accompanied by a letter to their parents describing their errant behavior.

For the majority of the time she operated with impunity and was only ever exposed once, when she forced a gal to cross the quadrangle in her pajamas during a snow-storm. The unfortunate gal who was sporting three sets of stripes on her poor beleaguered bum ended up in the infirmary with a severe chill. Robin was caned in front of the whole school and by all accounts she made a total muff of herself. Inexplicably she managed to retain power and by the time the year was over her whop rate was over five times that of any of her predecessors.

Having developed a taste for whops and tequila she enrolled in Teachers Training College where she read geography which took little effort and allowed her plenty of time for engaging in liaisons with wealthy and generally married lovers.

Once she had graduated she sought employment at private schools with reputations for harsh discipline. For almost two decades she appeared amongst the highest echelons of the Ministry of Educations list of top disciplinarians. When Ms Lawton was scouting for Brass for the newly opened Woody Back to School unit Robin Wharton was a shoo-in.

When she joined the Brass her looks were already fading and her taste for gluttonous dining had added significant inches to her girth. However, she immediately palled up with the beautiful Patty and scored numerous hot dates just by association.

At that time Katie Beck was still an inmate but she had attracted the attention of Patty. Patty assigned the Wart the task of covertly training Katie for taking on the powerful role of Red-shirt and to act as commandant of the SS. In the background Patty smoothed the way for Katie’s eventual promotion.

The Wart was impressed by Katie who needed little in the way of training as she was a cruel and devious bitch by nature. The two women became tight and Katie would go on to become the most tyrannical Red-shirt in the unit’s history.

The Wart had been over-joyed when Katie had returned as the unit’s matron. Not only did she strengthen the ranks of the Radical Right but in the subordinate position of only being considered semi-Brass she replaced Robin as Patty’s personal lackey.

The Wart slammed down several hits of tequila. The glory days of the Radical Right were long over and now with Patty and Katie at each other’s throats Robin Wharton felt miserable and insecure. Her attempts to parlay a peace deal between the warring factions appeared to have failed. She watched with increasing alarm as public opinion appeared to be shifting in favor of the Back to School units being closed down. She wondered what would become of her.

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.

Spanking Humor, Art and Literature

Clearly you guys have a good sense of spanking humor. Yesterday’s toon featuring Cedric the spanking obsessed parrot had an incredible amount of views in the first hour and then the hits just kept on rolling. Cedric is positively preening. He’ll be back!

For lovers of spanking art and humor I can’t give enough praise to Spankart for maintaining the wonderful Spanking Art Wiki which is a brilliantly run showcase of the enormous amount of artists offering their spanking works absolutely free (the site is hosted by another great source of spanking art Anime OTK). I have a page over there under R Humphries and Dave Ell has the complete Sammy Simpkins collection on display … Great job Spankart!

Equally impressive is The Kilahara Library of Spanking Fiction run by Februs and flopsy. Very well organized and obviously painstakingly created. A great place to stop off and check out a huge range of free stories from a wide variety of writers with tastes of all kinds … another great job!

Sadly business commitments divert me from blogging activities … but still it is Lazy Sunday for most of you … so kick-back, sip on a Bloody Mary or a mimosa, have a good rummage around the site and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Fab New Woody Toon – Keyhole Katie – The Far Side of Spanking

This new toon was by special request from My Beloved Jojo. For personal reasons she has an affinity with the rather deranged and spank obsessed parrot, Cedric. She also loves to read about the evil matron of the unit, Katie Beck, getting her comeuppance. Jojo takes the Woody Back to School Unit stories quite personally. Not surprising really, after all she has been one of the major characters in nearly forty books, and that was before her new found fame as a cartoon star.

My usual thanks and congratulations to Dave Ell for another fabulous job of breathing life into my stories and characters!

I have always enjoyed writing the Katie character as her devious nature offers plenty of scope for her underhand tricks to back-fire, generally resulting in outbreaks of mischief and mayhem inside her own bumbags … the extract from ‘Volume 15 – The Woodettes’ that follows the toon is an example of Katie getting caught out in one of her nefarious plots … its Saturday so kick-back, pour a glass of chilled chardonnay 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.

The Great Button-Busting Scam

The inmates of the Woody Back to School unit hollered and whooped as Claire Brooks lowered Katie Beck over her lap and turned back the hem of her gymslip.

Claire Brooks had been horrified to find a note in her laundry pigeon-hole instructing her to report to Katie’s office for handing in her blouse for laundry in a clobber abusive condition.

Claire held a unique record at the facility. She was the only inmate in its ten year history who had never been punished for breaking any of the copious rules, regulations and protocols known as the Politics of Clobber.

Claire gaped at Katie. The unit’s matron shook out the crisply starched white blouse and laid it face up on the desk. There was no question that it was in an abusive condition; the third button down was missing.

“That’s impossible,” gasped Claire, “I checked that blouse last night before I handed it in for laundry. There is no way on earth that I would have handed it in with a missing button.”

“I can only judge matters based upon the laundry supervisor’s report,” said Katie. “According to the paperwork the button was missing when they took custody of it. You’re due a dusting.”

Claire continued to gape at Katie.

Katie Beck was settling Claire in over her knees when Mr Humphries stepped into her office.

“Not so fast, Katie. Let her up. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about,” he told her.

The Grand Master reviewed Katie’s application to slipper Claire. Slippering of members of the Elite for clobber abuse was rare but not totally unprecedented. Katie had listed half a dozen previous instances of prefects being dusted for various contraventions of the Politics of Clobber. The paperwork was meticulous and the case seemed bona fide. Under the circumstances the Grand Master felt obliged to endorse the application.

The Grand Master was drinking his morning coffee and smoking a cigarette. He idly clicked his mouse on the electronic punishment record database on the GalGab web-site. He went to a pull down menu and filtered down to the number of inmates who had recently been slippered by Katie for handing in blouses in a state similar to the one she had just shown him. He sipped his coffee thoughtfully and then picked up his cell-phone.

“Miss Beck said she’d take away our contract if we didn’t make quota.” the supervisor told the Grand Master. “We needed the work so we started busting buttons. She was very pleased and gave me some generous bonuses.”

“And you were button busting last night?”

“Oh yes sir,” the supervisor assured him. “The Brooks button sir. Miss Beck was very specific. Blouse number 3246. We found it and we busted the button, third down from the neck. Did we do good sir?”

Katie wrung her hands and gnashed her teeth in despair. As usual it was Patty Hodge who had put her in a jam. For the past few weeks Katie had been regaling her cohorts on the Radical Right with blow by blow accounts of the slew of slipperings she was delivering as a result of her brilliant button-busting scam. She picked her targets artfully, focusing on the most clobber-challenged inmates and targeting gals who had previously handed their blouses in for laundry with missing buttons. She had worked out a schedule for the remainder of the year and figured she could effortlessly slipper three bonus inmates a week without attracting attention to her nefarious activities. It was a whop junkie’s dream.

Patty was envious of Katie’s bonus bum roastings. She was going through a personal whop crisis. In the past her cronies had been generous about spreading around the whops and making sure she scored her daily fix. Recently, however, her supply seemed to have dried up. Her chums were either choosing to whop the inmates locally, or to send them directly to the Grand Master’s office to be caned. It was not a situation that pleased Patricia Hodge and it galled her that Katie was having so much fun.

“I checked the database,” she told Katie. “I noticed that you have never slippered Claire Brooks.”

Katie shrugged. “Yeah, she’s the one that got away. I’ve had them all at one time or another, even Rachel Cox and Nicola Jane Nixon. But never Claire,” she said wistfully.

“No time like the present,” Patty goaded her. “Put her on the button-busting schedule and no-one will ever notice.”

Katie Beck was doing her best to tough it out. Mr Humphries had instructed Claire to give Katie thirty-six smacks of the slipper and the Beckster was beginning to rue the day she had spotted the leather soled slipper at a Greek market stall.

It was a long methodical spanking; Katie was forced to lie across the prefect’s lap for almost ten minutes, her bottom glowing like a police beacon. Claire Brooks was all business, working up and down Katie’s bum; she established an undercoat and then worked on some detailed hot-spots before applying a final finish.

There was a carnival atmosphere in the hall. The exposure of the button-busting scam had cleared up some mysteries. Numerous of the inmates had awoken to be aghast to find notes in their pigeon-holes instructing them to repair to Katie’s office for a slippering. They were generally dumb-founded to be confronted with blouses with missing buttons. However, Katie’s practice of targeting the most clobber-challenged inmates was effective. Her targets had all made similar errors previously and even though they were convinced they’d checked the garments before handing them in there was always an element of doubt in their minds and they accepted the slipperings with stoic resignation. The sound of Claire rebounding the leather-soled slipper off Katie’s naked rear end was music to their ears.

By the time she was allowed to return to the vertical Katie was looking visibly cowed. She rubbed her eyes with the cuff of her blouse and flounced off the stage with her head hung low and her hands looking suspiciously like they were prepared for rubbing.

Cathryn Cassidy smiled at Katie. Cat had taken particular care over her appearance. She had dressed in a micro-mini gymslip that barely covered her bumbags, black hose with a matching suspender belt and three-inch stiletto heels. She wore her collar unfastened and her tie hung out over the bib of her gymslip. She had donned her trademark boater and wore it at a jaunty angle.

Katie Beck stood with her hands on her head, the bib of her gymslip lowered and her tie slung back over her shoulder. Cathryn whistled cheerfully as she inspected the unit matron’s clobber and occasionally blew cigarette smoke in her face.

The news that she was being put on full clobber probation was devastating enough for Katie. The news that her bête noire, Cathryn Cassidy, was being appointed as her probation officer made her feel quite bilious.

“It’s all your fault,” Katie fumed at Patty. “I had a perfectly good scam going and now you’ve ruined it.”

“You’re a grown woman Katie,” retorted Patty sanctimoniously. “You make your own decisions and suffer the consequences accordingly.”

“You told me to slipper her,” said Katie angrily.

“No I did not Katie,” said Patty sharply. “I merely suggested it would be a wizard wheeze. This was not Radical Right business, this was Politics of Clobber business and that’s your department.”

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!” growled Katie Beck.

Cathryn grinned to herself. She took her time inspecting every hem and thread of Katie’s clobber. Cat was amongst the most perennially clobber-challenged of the inmates and had suffered many long hot slipperings bent like a bow across Katie’s knee. The opportunity to give the facility’s matron a dose of her own medicine was really quite delightful.

Katie was beginning to sweat. Cathryn was applying all the subtle tricks that Katie had deployed over the years to make clobber inspections as disagreeable as possible. Working from the rear was always a successful tactic. Raising the back of the collar or the hem of a skirt and whimsically muttering, “And what have we got here?” was guaranteed to send goose bumps down a gal’s spine. Cathryn Cassidy played Katie like a fish.

Katie stomped out of the haberdasher’s laden down with bags filled with clobber. She had been stunned by the availability. Normally by the beginning of summer everything would have been sold out and she was expecting to have to have her new clobber special ordered. However, the racks were filled with gymslips, blazers and blouses of every size.

As she wandered through the town in search of a cab she was amazed to observe the amount of high fashion chicks who were dressed in the red and black striped blazers, white blouses and red and black-striped ties as worn by the inmates of the Woody Back to School unit.

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 Bedtime Beating – the Collector’s Edition

Everybody should release a Collector’s Edition so I took the two part story ‘A Bedtime Beating’ and compiled it into PDF book format. This special Collector’s Edition comes complete with original illustrations from my buddy and collaborator, the brilliant artist and legend in his own lunch-time, Dave Ell.

As usual this is absolutely free to you guys to download at your leisure … sadly current business obligations make it difficult for me to post very often … nonetheless, we have some new stories and toon’s scheduled so keep checking back … after all, there is plenty to see and read … be bold … have a good rummage around … in the meantime the weekend is upon us … so get down into the wine cellar, pour a glass of red and kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH.

Another Absolutely Free Woody Book

I am delighted to announce that I have converted a series of stories that I had previously serialized into proper book format. I have added additional illustrations from my wonderful collaborator, Dave Ell, and I have corrected some minor typos and inconsistencies. Click here to download ‘A Life in the Day of Debs Morton’, in pdf format absolutely free. I will be publishing this book for sale at Lulu, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble and due to the cost of producing a color book it will retail at $19.99 even in paperback, so $0.00 is a helluva deal … Just my way of saying thanks to all my visitors.

 I have also done other some minor editing to the site. I’ve added a section in the sidebar exclusively dedicated to the Famous Four who are the main characters of my stories and attract considerable amount of inquiries into their backgrounds … I have also added some more Powerpoint presentations to the Woody Toons area and compiled a Collectors show that contains all the toons (it is kinda slow to download, at least on my machine but I think it’s worth it) … so kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Brand New Woody Toon – A Bed-time Beating (Part 2)

For our 200th post we have the conclusion of the original story I began posting yesterday  and the accompanying brand new Woody Toon. Personally, considering Dave Ell was whining about having alcohol induced shakes I think that he has done a magnificent job on this new toon … well done Dave … It’s Saturday night, kick-back, crack open a beer or pour a glass of wine 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.

The following story is a continuation from the post that I have wisely renamed as ‘A Bedtime Beating – Part 1′.

Although Deborah despised Katie she had a grudging admiration for her skill as a spanker. Deborah had little doubt that she was scheduled to be sprawled across Katie’s lap for some considerable time. Katie was spanking her at a leisurely pace leaving plenty of time for each resounding crack of the slipper to cycle through Deborah’s system. It was all very disagreeable. It didn’t help that Katie maintained a running commentary throughout the slippering, informing Deborah gloatingly that there was no better way for a gal to kick-start her circulation in the morning than a prolonged slippering. Debs did her best to zone out the unpleasant and snide remarks but they were distracting. She was having considerable difficulty getting into the zone.

Katie had Deborah pinned head down, arse up for almost ten minutes. By the time she was released Deborah was thoroughly drained. There was no question that Katie had done a very thorough job and Debs felt as if her bum had swollen up to the size of a pair of watermelons. Her face was flushed and her cheeks were burning. Her eyes blazed with righteous indignation as she handed over her Punishment Record Book for post-processing.

“I hope that taught you a lesson, Morton,” cackled Katie.

“I’ll teach you a fucking lesson,” muttered Debs as she stomped out of the office.

For the second consecutive day Deborah Morton was forced to spend an uncomfortable day on the hard wooden seats in the lecture rooms. She was extremely grumpy and broody. The ignominy of being forced to spend an extended period over Katie’s knee was almost worse than the pain of the spanking. She found it hard to concentrate on the tutorials. By lunchtime she had already accumulated three yellow warning cards and had become unnervingly close to being caned on several occasions.

“You need to be careful,” her best chum Rosemary counseled her at lunch-time. “If you carry on like this you’re going to be thrashed and your bum is in no shape for a whopping right now.”

Debs knew her chum was right but she was seething with pent up anger. “I’ll get that be-yotch,” she muttered darkly, but despite her foul temper Debs had managed to navigate the afternoon lectures without unpleasant incident.

Deborah forced herself to stay awake. She watched the digital alarm clock by her bed. Official lights out and lockdown was at eleven o’clock. For the next forty five minutes the prefect known as the Dorm Raider would continue to make her rounds of the landings on the look-out for anybody goofing or gabbing. Debs feigned sleep when Melanie White quietly opened the door to the study she shared with Rosemary and shone her pin light into the room.

Deborah waited until midnight before swinging her legs out of bed. She picked up her red and black dressing gown and put it on. Across the room Rosemary was cutting plenty of zees. Deborah padded quietly across the room and slipped out onto the landing. The facility was silent. She hurried along the corridor.

Katie’s office was a considerable distance from the living quarters so Debs had to cut through a labyrinth of hallways, corridors and stairwells to reach her destination. After six years of incarceration Deborah knew every inch of the sprawling building and even in the darkness she was able to find her way. She approached the final stairwell that led up to the Grand Master and Katie Beck’s offices. She climbed the stairs slowly. She felt a slight shiver up her spine. Generally when she climbed these stairs she was on her way up for whops.

Earlier in the day Deborah had persuaded her good chum Nixdown Nixon to hack into the computer system and find the pass-code to give her access to Katie’s office. With trembling fingers she punched the four digits into the electronic keypad and let herself in.

Debs went over to the cupboard where Katie Beck kept her leather soled slippers. Deborah took out a tube of super-glue and went to work. She glued the soles of each pair of slippers together rendering them useless for their intended purpose.

She felt quite smug. The collection of leather-soled slippers was Katie’s pride and joy. Of course Debs knew that Katie would find an alternative but nonetheless Debs was sure that she would be apoplectic when she discovered her prized collection had been put out of action. She chuckled to herself and hurried back out onto the landing.

Deborah was only fifty feet from safety when she ran into Melanie White. She gaped at the Dorm Raider. Debs had been certain that by now Melanie would had been ensconced back in the Old Gals quarters sharing a bottle of wine with Cathryn Cassidy.

“M … M … Melanie,” she spluttered. “What are you doing here?”

Melanie was equally flabbergasted to encounter Debs. She was certain that when she had made her last tour of the landings Deborah had been sound asleep.

“I think I should ask you that question Debs,” said Melanie. “What the Dickens are you up to?”

Deborah sighed. “I had some business to attend to,” she muttered.

“Business? What business it’s quarter past twelve?” asked Melanie.

“I’d rather not say,” responded Debs.

Melanie rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You know I have no choice Deborah. I’m sorry but I am obliged to beat you,” she said.

Debs hung her head. “Yes Ma’am,” she muttered.

“This is ridiculous,” muttered Melanie. “I can’t whop you in your study, it would just be too noisy. It would wake up the whole landing. We’ll have to go to the library. Now cut along sharpish. I have some Elite business to take care of before I have time to deal with you. I’ll be along to beat you shortly.”

“Yes Ma’am,” muttered Debs.

Deborah stood facing the wall beside the library door. She leaned her neck forward so that the tip of her nose rested against the wood paneling and raised her arms and placed her hands on her head. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably and her tummy was filled with butterflies.

Deborah Morton was not of a nervous disposition by nature but the prospect of being caned by Melanie was daunting. Although three quarters of a day had elapsed since Deborah’s unpleasant trip across Katie’s knee her bum was still swollen and quite tender to the touch. It was not in the best of shapes to be caned by one of the unit’s most respected martinets.

Debs and Melanie were tight but Deborah knew that wouldn’t help her cause. Melanie was an experienced member of the Elite and she practiced a strict ‘no favorites’ policy and dealt with every gal with exactly the same efficiency and severity.

Debs and Melanie had history. When Melanie had first been appointed as Dorm Raider she had broken her duck by giving Debs six on the silks. Deborah who knew about such things had given Melanie a rave report for technical merit, artistic content and given her nine for the all-important heat factor. Throughout the year Deborah had several more encounters with Melanie’s ashplant and continued to express her admiration for her chum’s efficiency.

On her Debs Diary blog she reported, “I have been caned by dozens of members of the Elite and there are three absolute stand-outs, Patsy Butcher, Claire Brooks and Melanie White. I’m not sure who is hottest but if I had to make a call it would probably be for Melons.”

Debs stared at the wall miserably. In some ways she wished that Melanie would hurry up and get it over with, on the other hand she dreaded the thought of the cane slashing across the seat of her tautened jimjam trews. Deborah had spent many hours of her life facing walls with her hands on her head waiting to be caned. Nonetheless despite her considerable experience it was impossible not to be anxious. The longer she stood there and contemplated her upcoming fate the more anxious she became. Her tummy was churning in a most disagreeable manner by the time Melanie arrived and told her to lower her arms and to follow her into the library.

The two gals padded across the large area reading area of the library. The Grand Master had filled the room with high-speed computers and works-stations. Deborah was a studious cove by nature and had spent many pleasant hours lounging about on the comfortable leather sofa’s while she did research for her assignments.

They reached a second door. Melanie turned the handle and swung it open. She stepped aside to allow Deborah to enter. The back room was a complete contrast. It was dark and shadowy, lit only by the flicker of candles. A fire glowed at the far end in a huge ornamental fireplace. Deborah shivered. There was only one reason for entering this room and over the past six years Deborah had been unfortunate to make over a hundred visits. They had all concluded painfully.

“I’m going to have to ask you to remove your dressing gown, Morton,” said Melanie. While they were in the punishment room Debs understood that they were no longer on first-name terms. It was purely a business matter from hereonin.

“But it’s cold,” Debs said rather lamely.

Melanie didn’t respond and unenthusiastically Deborah undid the sash of the thick toweling robe and set it aside. She stood in her thin black and red striped silk jimjams facing Melanie.

Melanie unfastened the five buttons down the front of her red Elite blazer and shrugged it off. She unfastened the cuffs of her blouse and slowly turned them back. Finally she reached up and undid the top button of her crisp white blouse and loosened her red Elite tie. It was all part of a practiced ritual designed to increase the tension of the moment. Both gals knew the importance of this little ritual. Debs felt her heart rate increasing and ran the tip of her tongue over her dry lips. The moment was closing in on her.

“I need you to bend over in front of the fireplace,” said Melanie not unkindly.

“Yes Ma’am,” muttered Debs. She turned around. It was only a few paces to the fireplace but it seemed considerably further as she trudged along. She stopped a few feet in front of the hearth. She leaned forward at the waist. She stopped when her hands were barely passed her knees. She took a deep breath and finally reached down until her finger tips rested on the tips of her shoes.

Over the past decade and a half Deborah Morton had been required to bend over on literally hundreds of occasions but it never got any easier. It was the dreaded final stage of all the nerve-wracking preparations. She was now presented for the sole purpose of having her bottom whopped with a whippy cane.

Once she was correctly positioned Deborah knew she must clear her head and get into what the Woody Wags termed as the zone. She needed to brace herself so that she could find the courage not to howl or blub. It was the mantra of the mega-minxes that ‘only muffs howl’.

Melons flexed the cane between her hands then stepped in and planted her feet.

“I’m going to need you to put it up and keep it up, Morton,” she told Debs.

Deborah grunted.

Melanie White loved Debs like a sister but she knew that she had to set her emotions aside and get on with the job at hand. She knew from lengthy personal experience that there was absolutely no point in whopping a gal unless you whopped her properly. Giving a whop-hardened minx a few gentle flicks would serve no purpose. Fond though she was of Deborah she was duty bound to lay it on thick.

She tapped the cane down once, twice, thrice and then pulled her arm back and unleashed a screamer.

There was no question that Melanie’s reputation was well deserved. Since being appointed to the Elite she had beaten over a hundred gals and she treated them equally whether friend or foe.

She understood the mechanics of delivering a good, safe thrashing. She did not employ much of a back-swing, relying on a last second flick of the wrist to increase the speed the cane cut through the air to Mach One.

Every caning is a partnership. It was Deborah’s job to present her backside as prominently as possible to allow Melanie a clear shot. It was Melanie’s job to deliver the beating in the safest possible manner. The shaft and tip of the cane had to land directly in the target area known as the sweet spot. There should be no wrap-arounds or high or low riders. It was all about accuracy and control.

The sound of the cane rebounding from tautened silk echoed around the library. Deborah hissed in consternation. The opener had been sensational, the sound of impact exploding in her ears and the excruciating pain imploding beneath the trews of her jimjams. She squeezed her eyes shut and her mouth opened in a silent howl. The effects of the stroke began its cycle.

The shock-wave would start with the immediate searing pain at the moment of impact then the effects of the stroke would spread its tentacles at an electrifying pace, ricocheting around her central nervous system like a pinball making her shudder. The initial nerve-jangling, teeth-chattering, eye-watering sensation would followed by the under-burn settling beneath her scalded flesh and working its way into her gluteus maximus muscles. Her breath came in pants as she tried to gather herself. Deborah Morton was in no doubt that she was in for a hot and sweaty few minutes.

Conventional wisdom is that the perfect six of the best is delivered over five minutes. One minute of preparatory anticipation while the recipient is in position, three minutes of actual caning with the strokes delivered at thirty second intervals, followed by a one minute recovery period before the release command is issued.

However Melanie understood that the toe-touching position was the most difficult to maintain so she had to reduce the cycle time considerably. She caned Deborah at fifteen second intervals, allowing just enough time for each individual stroke to be fully appreciated.

Deborah was not in any position to appreciate Melanie’s fine handiwork. The effect of being whopped across the residual tenderness of the morning slippering was devastating. She could almost feel the weals rising on her flesh and then the strokes slowly blending into a bubbling, steaming cauldron of heat that permeated below her tautened jimjam trews.

“It’s only whops, it’s only whops!” she repeated over and over in her head. Her eyes were burning with unwept tears. She was perspiring profusely. She felt as if she was on fire.

Five strokes in and only the closer left to come. Deborah braced herself and tried to keep calm. “You can take it,” she told herself. Bravely she pushed her bottom up a little higher and waited for Armageddon to arrive.

An expert like Melanie always closed with a five bar gate. The final stroke delivered diagonally across the existing stripes. She adjusted her stance and took a tight grip on the cane. The only sound in the room was Deborah’s breathing which was coming in long impassioned pants. The tension was palpable as both women prepared themselves for the critical moment that would complete the beating. Melanie White raised her arm and brought it down swiping.

Debs wanted to open her lungs and scream the walls down. The final stroke had been delivered to perfection. The pace and accuracy had been an exhibition of consummate cane control. Debs gritted her teeth to suppress the impulse to holler, “It will pass,” she told herself as the shockwaves reverberated from her toes all the way to the tip of her nose. “Sheesh,” she muttered and shook her head in consternation.

“Jeez Melons, I’m still sizzling,” Debs grumbled when she visited Melanie’s study the following morning to have the beating post-processed. “You really do whop hard. That is the hardest you’ve ever caned me. That last one nearly cut me in half. It was an absolute killer. I’m gonna give you a ten on the heat factor scale for the closer and nine point seven five for the overall performance. Jeez Melons I’ve only ever given a pre a nine point seven five once before and that was Patsy Butcher for my first formal house beating, and that was a fucking twelve stroke running bender.”

“I promise I didn’t do anything special,” said Melanie a little defensively. “That’s just the way I always whop.”

“Well you used to be hot and now you sizzle,” said Debs emphatically.

“No hard feelings I hope,” said Melons.

Deborah reached over and hugged her chum. “Of course not. I deserved to be whopped and it’s your job to whop me. Just remind me to keep my bumbags a good distance from your cane in the future.” She smiled weakly and unconsciously reached back and rubbed her bumbags.

Melanie looked surprised. “Now that’s a first. In six years that the only time I’ve ever seen Debs Morton rub in public.”

Deborah took her hand off her bum and flushed slightly, “and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t brag about it. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Melanie White leaned over a hugged Debs. “Your secret is safe with me, sis,” she assured her chum. “Now let’s write-up the beating and then go and get some brekker. Late night whopping always make me hungry.”

Melanie White and Deborah Morton cut through the corridors arm-in-arm on their way to the cafeteria. An outside observer may have found it a tad queer that just a few hours after they had been at the opposite ends of a cane that they would be cheerily heading out for coffee together, but outside observers rarely understand the many mysteries of Woodyworld. 

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 Miraculous Recovery of Dave Ell and a New Woody Toon

The widely reported life-threatening hangover of the famous ex-patriot artist Dave Ell appears to have been greatly exaggerated. Miraculously like Lazarus he has risen from his pit and managed to crank out another brilliant toon. Unfortunately this has put RH on the critical path to finish the companion story … so here’s a little teaser and watch this space … check back shortly to catch the full story … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Bed-time Beating – Part 1

It is uncharacteristically freezing in Houston which gave me an excuse to put on the fire, pour a glass of red, and write a completely original story from scratch. I’m halfway through and will post Part 2 tomorrow.

I would appreciate it if you would give my collaborator, the wonderfully talented Dave Ell a moment of private thought as reportedly he is suffering from a monumental hangover and has had to take a 24-hour recovery sabbatical before finishing the brand, spanking new Woody Toon that will be the companion piece to this story … bless his poor little Scouser bumbags … don’t worry Dave we will survive and hopefully so will you in order that you will feel suitably rejuvenated to  add your artistic magic to Part 2 of the yarn…. Nonetheless, in his sorry absence I have included some appropriate extracts from previous toons for your entertainment … so kick back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Deborah Morton padded through the darkened corridors in slippered feet. As she turned each corner she peeked around to ensure the coast was clear. The facility had been under lockdown for some time and she was confident that her secret mission would be successfully completed without detection.

Debs was feeling rather smug. For most of the day she had been extremely grumpy as a result of a rather disagreeable engagement in the Matron’s office that she had been obliged to attend earlier in the day. A visit to Katie Beck’s office first thing in the morning was never pleasant but this particular morning Katie had been even more odious than normal. The appointment had been concluded with Deborah sprawled face down across Katie’s lap having her rump pounded with a leather soled slipper.

Deborah’s latest trials and tribulations had actually started twenty-four hours earlier with her ejection from the assembly hall on charges of goofing. It had been a classic Debs moment.

The rules regarding behavior in the assembly hall were explicit. No goofing, gabbing, larking, pranking, pushing, shoving or poking from the moment of ingress to the time of egress. Ms Lawton, the former Grand Dame of the facility, had argued that it was not too much to expect for the inmates to spend this brief period in a state of decorum. Mr Humphries saw no reason to relax the rule.

For inexplicable reasons Deborah had particular difficulty abiding with this simple protocol and held the units record for being evicted. The previous morning she had taken her seat and for several minutes had sat quietly as required. Then, without any good reason she felt it would be a jolly jape to annoy the gal seated directly in front of her by persistently tapping the underside of the cloth covered seat of her chair with her foot. Almost immediately she was spotted by the Red-shirt and shown a red-card  and found herself trudging towards the front of the hall.

Taking up the traditional position of disgrace, standing between the doors to the hall and the steps of the stage she had several minutes to contemplate her latest folly. For the sake of a moment’s mindless activity that had been neither particularly amusing nor satisfying she had sentenced herself to a mandatory twelve-stroke bare bender.

Deborah’s problems were further compounded by the arrival of the Brass. Although most of the Dames either just rolled their eyes or threw her sympathetic smiles Patty Hodge and the Wart barreled down on her gleefully. Debs braced herself for an unsavory ration of tongue pie. Patty grinned wolfishly and very theatrically reached into the pocket of her couture jacket and extracted a red-card. Theatrically she displayed it to the seated inmates before loudly instructing Deborah to book herself an appointment with Katie Beck to be slippered for collar and tie abuse. Deborah groaned. She did her best to glare defiantly at Patty but she could feel her cheeks redden. Momentarily she considered hacking Patty in the shins but thought better of it. She sighed. This was not a good way for a gal to start her day.

The caning was a routine affair involving Deborah bending over the back of a straight-backed chair in the Grand Master’s study with her bumbags concertinaed around her ankles. Deborah was a fully paid up member of what the Woody Wags called the Double Berkeley Society in recognition of the famous Edwardian dominatrix Theresa Berkeley. Ms Berkeley is widely acknowledged as being the originator of the term ‘Six of the best’.

At her popular house of flagellation the famous London Flogging girls such as Miss Ring, One-eyed Peg and Ebony Bet could take dozens of strokes of the birch but complained that extended sessions with the cane took too long to recover from and reduced their business opportunities. Accordingly Berkeley allowed visiting floggers’ six strokes at a fixed price if they chose to beat the girls with the Nilgiri canes she had imported from Eastern India. Additional strokes could be purchased at increasing ad valorem duties.

In an obituary published in the London Times following her death in 1836 she was described as ‘Six of the Best Berkeley’.

In Deborah’s opinion ground rules established by such distinguished historical dignitaries should be respected and had even authored a highly respected treatise on the subject arguing ‘Why six of the best is always the best’. Nonetheless, she had become resigned to the fact that a trip across the back of the infamous straight-backed chair now guaranteed her a full twelve stroke thrashing. It was all most disagreeable.

Deborah spent an uncomfortable day wriggling and squirming on the hard wooden seats of the lecture rooms. A decade and half of having her bumbags peppered with a wide assortment of canes, straps, slippers, hair-brushes and sundry kitchen utensils had taught her some degree of pain management. She did her best not to allow the monotonous throbbing in her rear end to distract her from the tutorials. Occasionally she would make an unconscious movement that would prompt teeth-chattering, eye-watering, nerve-jangling pain to course through her central nervous system and cause her to rue her momentary act of compulsive impulsive behavior. It was all most disagreeable.

She managed to survive the days curriculum of lectures attracting only a minor scolding or two although during the latter part of the final tutorial she was shown a yellow final warning card. She was greatly relieved to hear the last bell.

She availed of her best chum, Rosemary Booker’s, services and spent fifteen minutes spread out across her lap having her bum anointed with Rosie’s mystical balms. Then she spent the remainder of the day doing her best to stay active in the hope that physical activity would stop her gluteus maximus muscles from seizing up uncomfortably which could result in the unfortunate disorder of pygalgia (aka ‘a pain in the arse’) setting in.

At ten o’clock she turned in but had difficulty sleeping. After all she had little to look forward to in the morning except her scheduled meeting with Katie Beck’s slipper.

Most mornings Deborah rose early and went running with her tennis coach Jane Lummell. The only exceptions were when she had a pre-brekker appointment with the unit matron.

Deborah was an attractive young woman but she was perennially clobber challenged. Even in her heyday as one of the nation’s most photographed women she had never been a fashionista, favoring loose fitting leather jackets, jeans and a baseball cap. Her only expensive accessory was her signature cowboy boots that she had custom-made by a craftsman from Texas.

At Woodys she had found the imposed regime of wearing clobber convenient as it meant that she didn’t have to think about her daily wardrobe. Nonetheless, she had considerable difficulties with the many rules, regulations and protocols known as the ‘Politics of Clobber’. Her particular nemesis was the rule that required that the top button of her blouse should be fastened at all times and neatly covered with the knot of her red and black striped tie. “I feel all trussed up,” she was fond of complaining. Her chum, Nixdown Nixon, who was a well-known clothes horse liked to tease her that it was she only purchased ‘catalogue crap’ instead of investing in bespoke clobber.

Her clobber challenges had resulted in Debs being required to beat a path to Katie’s door on numerous occasions. They had developed a healthy dislike for each other.

Instead of joining Jane Lummell for a run Deborah spent some time preparing herself for her pending ordeal. She checked and double checked every seam, hem, stitch and button of her selected clobber to ensure that there was not a single contravention of the Politics of Clobber protocols.

She knew that she was due for a mandatory twelve spanks from the leather slipper and was determined not to give Katie the opportunity to increase her punishment. She dressed carefully, brushing her slightly wavy hair back behind a head band and finally shrugged on her red and black striped blazer. She stood in front of the mirror and examined herself. She used a clothes brush to sweep away a couple of stray hairs before setting off for her engagement.

Katie Beck was waiting. As usual she was dressed in her white skin-tight uniform which she wore unbuttoned to most effectively display her well-formed breasts.

Katie was a creature of exquisite beauty. She was tall and slender with a thick mane of dark hair. She had long legs and an hour-glass figure. Most evenings she could be found propping up the bar of the Bunch of Grapes where she was a popular attraction amongst the local lothario’s. She was also a Class 1 Be-yotch.

Katie had been one of the first Extreme Ladettes to be dispatched to the newly formed Back to School Units. At a highly publicized hearing before the Dark Agents of the System she had been exposed as the only female to sit on the Board of Directors of the notorious criminal gang known as the Confederacy of Yoofs.

She was cunning, devious and about as charming as a snake. These were all personality traits that had made her an instant attraction to Patricia Hodge. Patty was in the market for a candidate to act as Commandant in her blue-print for the initiation of the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers. Katie was the poster-child for the role.

Using her powerful position as Deputy Grand Dame Patty managed to install Katie Beck into the position of Red-shirt. It was a dark period in the lives of the inmates of the facility and would coincide with Deborah beginning her sentence as a Little Brat.

Granted a ‘Licence to Spank’ any Brat she pleased Katie took advantage of Deborah’s clobber challenges and anytime she spotted Debs with a hair out of place Debs immediately ended up over Katie’s knee. It was not a relationship designed for much in the way of sisterly bonding and Deborah understandably grew to dislike Katie intensely.

When Katie returned to the facility with the semi-Brass status of Matron she immediately reconstituted her siege on Deborah’s bumbags, slippering her into third place on the All-Time Clobber Abuse rankings only marginally behind the notorious Scruff and Debs own best chum, Rosemary.

Deborah knew the form. She reached up and placed her hands on her head and linked her fingers as Katie came around the desk to perform Stage 1 of her clobber inspection.

Katie worked at her usual slow pace running her fingers over every seam of the blazer. Debs stared straight ahead, she understood the drill, Katie was just beginning the trying and tiresome ritual. Deborah knew that she had to remain calm and overcome the almost overwhelming compulsion to biff Katie on the hooter.

“Alright, remove your blazer and hang it up,” Katie said finally in an annoyingly imperious tone. “Put your tie over your left shoulder and return your hands to the top of your head,” the matron instructed once Debs had placed the jacket on a hanger.

Debs rolled her eyes but she complied.

Stage 2 of the clobber inspection was tedious. Deborah was certain that her clobber was in pristine condition but nonetheless Katie’s intense inspection of every thread and button was designed to unsettle her. The unit matron was an expert at the process and every now and again she would return to her desk and pick up a jewelers eye-glass and inspect a particular button for signs of chips or unacceptable fading and ageing. She rarely spoke except to interject an odd “tut-tut” or to mutter “oh my what have we here?”. She was especially skilled at working from the rear where Deborah couldn’t see what she was doing. It was all thoroughly disconcerting.

Katie sat behind her desk filling out her check-list. She hadn’t spoken for several minutes. Finally she pushed the paper across the desk.

“You got lucky this morning Morton,” she said Debs. “Sign here.”

Deborah lowered her arms and stepped forward. She picked up the pen and added her initials to indicate that the inspection had been carried out in a satisfactory manner and that she would not be filing an appeal. She tossed the pen down on the table.

“But not as lucky as you think, Morton,” cackled Katie and she slid open a drawer of her desk.

She extracted a white blouse and waved it at Deborah. “You are a complete mess, Morton,” she said nastily. “This blouse is a disgrace. You’re up for double-bubble.”

Deborah gaped in astonishment. The crisp white blouse Katie was waving in the air was covered in ink-stains. Her mind raced and then her heart sank. She knew that she had inspected her clobber when she took it off the previous evening but then Bernadette Summers had stopped by. Debs had just come out of the shower and was preparing for bed when the Bounder came knocking. As usual Bernadette had contracts she wanted Debs to sign. Deborah had been tired and had tried to give Bernadette the bums rush but the Bounder was persistent. Finally Debs had acquiesced and reached for the papers. The Mont Blanc fountain pen that Bernadette had signed had not appeared to work. “Just give it a good shake,” the Bounder had advised.

“Oh good fucking grief,” muttered Debs as she stared at the ink-stained blouse. She hadn’t rechecked her clobber before stuffing it in the laundry bag. She could do nothing but stare hopelessly at Katie Beck.

Katie Beck tucked Debs into the crease of her lap and tugged down her bumbags.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” she chortled and took a tight grip on the leather-soled sandal that she had procured in the Plaka flea-market in Athens. She brought it down with a resounding crack. Deborah Morton was helpless to do anything but mutter and groan.

…. 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.

A Spanking New Woody Toon – Cedric goes to Woodys

Obviously no self-respecting spanking saga would be complete without the appearance of a whop obsessed parrot. Cedric makes his first appearance at the Woody Back to School Unit in Volume 27 – Woodys Under Fire. In the stories he is actually an African Grey but for artistic purposes we have brightened him up a bit in this fabulous new toon from Dave Ell … I hope you enjoy the toon and the associated story and stay around and have a good rummage around the site … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

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

“What is that?” asked Jojo suspiciously.

“That, is Cedric,” said the Grand Master. “He is an African Grey. Spanky Botts has asked us to look after him for a few days. She thinks he will fit in quite well amongst the Woody community.”

“Remove your blazer,” the parrot squawked, “and bend over the chair.”

“Oh good grief,” groaned Jojo, “this is all we need.”

The African Grey parrot had a whitish face, gray body and scarlet tail and seemed quite pleased with himself.

“Bottoms up, swish, thwack, crackety, crack,” said the parrot.

Jojo shook her head in disbelief. “You cannot be serious,” she said.

Mr Humphries just grinned.

Jojo pressed her nose against the wall and linked her hands on top of her head and considered the plans that the Grand Master had for her backside.

Jojo and several of her chums had spent Sunday morning Christmas shopping in town, followed by a leisurely lunch hosted by Mr Humphries at their favorite restaurant, Monets. On the way back to the facility in the stretch limousine Mr Humphries, her fiancé, had informed her that he intended to spend the remainder of the afternoon indulging in some gratuitous spanking. Jojo had no objections to the plan in principle but the parrot was beginning to give her the pip.

“What’s your name,” the avian demanded imperiously.

“Jojo,” she informed him.

“Jojo! Jojo!” squawked the parrot. “Jojo’s going to get benders.”

“Oh good grief,” muttered Joanna.

The Grand Master had been called away on non-gratuitous spanking business. When they had returned to the facility Mr Humphries had received word that several inmates were waiting outside his office in urgent need of the cane following an outbreak of extreme goofing in the recreation area. The Grand Master dispatched Jojo to get changed and instructed her to do a nose and toes session while he was away.

“Nose and toes,” squawked the parrot, “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

Jojo stared at the wall. She had the feeling that she and Cedric were not about to become bosom buddies. She intended to have strong words with Miss Spanky Botts next time she saw her.

“Six of the best,” said the parrot, “and then the rest.”

Jojo had been facing the wall for over forty five minutes by the time the Grand Master returned. Every few minutes the parrot had interjected the proceedings with insightful commentary regarding the future of her bumbags.

“Bumbags down, smack, smack, smack,” he informed her.

Jojo muttered darkly.

“So how has Cedric been behaving himself?” asked the Grand Master cheerfully.

“He is a fount of useful information,” growled Jojo, “and I intend to throttle him quite shortly.”

“Naughty Jojo,” squawked the parrot, “down with her bumbags and over the knee.”

“Grrrrrrrrrrr!” grumbled Joanna.

Jojo sighed gratefully as she spread herself out across Mr Humphries lap. The Grand Master had allowed her to summons Michelle Morgan to take the talking bird away to show off its skills to the other inmates. To Joanna’s way of thinking a long leisurely gratuitous spanking was one thing but a long leisurely gratuitous spanking with the assistance of vocal commentary from a deranged parrot was quite another.

She settled in and wiggled her bum.

“Jojo’s getting a spanking,” Cedric informed the inmates and then hid his face under his wing.

The Woody gals exchanged curious glances.

“He’s Spanky’s pet,” explained Michelle. “What else do you expect? We’re looking after him until she gets back from Switzerland.”

Cedric poked his head up. “Six of the best,” he announced, “and then the rest.”

“Oh good fucking grief,” chorused the inmates.

Cedric cackled and covered his face again.

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.

Woodys hits 200,000 and still counting

In the wee small hours of the morning the Woody Back to School Unit entertained guest number 200,000. This may not seem a lot when compared to the larger more image and video orientated sites but I was extremely pleased when the ticker clicked over and is a far greater number than I ever expected to see when I started out eight months ago. So, thank you all so much for visiting. I hope that you all have fun rummaging around the site and will keep coming back.

I would like to give particular shout-outs to the wonderfully generous bloggers who have included me on their blog-rolls and sent traffic my way … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

• The Delightful and Very Generous Bonny over at My Bottom Smarts

• The Original Spankologist Chross at Spanking Resources

• Richard Windsor for hosting the invaluable Spanking Universe and all his other web-sites

• Everybody at the Spanking Bloggers Network

• The ever observant Brushstrokes at the Spanking Spot

• Monsieur Laurent at Le journal de la fessée, who occasionally corrects my French

• London Lad Garth from Behind the Barred Window

• The Infamous Chief at his well-visited Spanking Blog

• Sam Johnson at SpankOz … I hope the new austere Aussie laws don’t close you down

• Cutiepie and her Sexy Spankings; same goes for you CP, good luck regarding the Oz law

• The Inimitable Rascal Paolo in Dublin

• The Charming and Entertaining Lady Karen

• The Wonderful Todd and Suzy at About Spanking

• The One and Only MarQe in his Study

• Ian at the ambitious and entertaining YEOWCH! page

• The hard-working Mitch over at All Things Spanking

• The Gentlemanly James Stephenson

• Good Old Uncle Peter and his Spanking Stories

• The highly amusing and off-the-wall Dante in his Paridiso

• Tiggr at A Spanking Good Time

• Thomas for sharing his Spanking Exploits

• Paul at the long running Spanking Facts and Research

• La fessée conjugale, another great site from France celebrating the Le Vice Anglaise

• Freddie at Simply Slippering who was kind enough to call the Woody Back to School Unit blog Highly Recommended

• John at the highly respected Spanking Review for featuring the Woody Toons in his weekly industry news round-ups

• Our man in Flanders, Prefectdt at Spanked Hortic

• LS at Lurvs Spanking for his astute criticisms and commentary

• Jay Walker at her new home

 

And of course no appreciation list would be complete without a HUGE SHOUT-OUT to my collaborator on the Woody Toons, the inimitable Scouser Dave Ell, who interprets my briefs so brilliantly and breathes life into the characters. Dave is a British artist, currently resident in Thailand, and he is available for commissions at lodgy53@yahoo.co.uk. His prices are very reasonable and he is a great guy to work with. His work is all over the net and can be found on many of the quality art sites.

 

My thanks to all of you and my sincere apologies for those that I might have missed.

 

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.

Miss Claire Brooks and the six o’clock swishings

New Years greetings from RH and My Beloved Jojo. Chez Humphries is slowly getting back to normality as the guests begin to leave so regular service will shortly be resumed … in the meantime here is an extract from Volume 23-Stolen Bumbags of the Woody Back to School Unit saga.

This storyline was developed from a single inadvertent comment made by a former female colleague that I like to think of as life’s ‘Vanilla Nuggets’ … you can read more in ‘Did Claire get the Cane?’ … also here is the collector’s edition of one of the original Woody Toon’s developed in collaboration with my great friend Dave Ell … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

In keeping with family tradition Claire Brooks was shipped off to boarding school. Her mother’s alma mater the Woody School had fallen on hard times and closed its doors, so she was dispatched to the exclusive Dayton Manor.

“Everything was extremely polite at Dayton,” Claire recalled. “We communicated a lot through little notelets that we left in each other’s pigeon-holes. We’d get invitations to picnics, folk dancing lessons and etiquette classes.” Claire giggled. “Don’t look at me like that. Yes! I attended my share of fucking etiquette classes. Anyway, I still have my favorite invitation. I had been at the school just a few months when I found a pretty pink envelope placed in my box. I opened it expecting to be invited to a birthday feast or, better still, a polo match. The message inside was neatly hand written.”

“It read, ‘Dear Miss Brooks, You are invited to repair to the House Captain’s quarters to participate in a six o’clock swishing. Yours Faithfully, Monica Rodgers’. Even more bizarrely at the bottom she had written RSVP!”

“You have to admit that’s quite a stylish way to invite someone up to your rooms so that you can beat their arse with a whippy stick,” chuckled Claire.

“Monica Rodgers was a prissy little thing with pigtails and a really big snooter; we used to call her Monc the Conk behind her back,” smiled Claire, “but receiving an invitation to participate in one of her six o’clock swishing’s was a little unnerving. She was rumored to be rather good with the stick.”

“Monc was in a terrible tizzy,” Claire told her audience. “She said that I had a bad case of the dt’s and was getting her house a bad reputation. I couldn’t very well argue; I had taken up permanent residence in the detention room since I arrived at Dayton. She suggested we try a swishing.”

“I had no objection in principle to the suggestion. Ma always told me that she far preferred a swishing to writing boring lines or spending hours in the detention room. So I agreed we should give it a try.” Claire grinned. “She bent me over the back of her sofa and gave me three hot ones, but we all know that is only half a caning, so I felt compelled to go back a few days later and get the other half.”

“Once I was on the swishing circuit I started to get all kinds of interesting invitations. The Headgirl and my House Mistress were both keen for me to stop by. I was becoming rather popular on the circuit and my social calendar started to get rather busy at six o’clock,” continued Claire. “My chums took to calling me Bendover Brooks.”

Claire’s accounts of her shenanigans at the prim and proper boarding school attracted considerable applause. Apparently her former teachers had a lot in common with the Woody Brass. She recounted an episode when she was yanked and spanked. “Nobody had ever been spanked in class before so it came as quite a surprise to be hauled out of my seat and pinned down across my desk. The teacher was a real old battleaxe, a right gargoyle in a dodgy tweed suit. She’s yattering and chattering while she’s walloping me. All of a sudden she stops. Apparently her false gnashers came unstuck and dropped on the floor and one got broken. She held me responsible and I got sent up to the Headgirl for a six o’clock swishing. Imagine that, she breaks her false teeth and I get six of the best. Where’s the justice in that?”

Of course school holidays were equally fun-filled with Claire seeing plenty of hairbrush action. “My sister Jen was becoming extremely competitive,” said Claire, “she’d just been sent up to Dayton and had got a couple of swishing’s. She wanted to make a name for herself and she started sassing Ma at home. I had always been the naughty sister so of course I had to defend my reputation which meant that there was whole lot of spanking going on.”

According to records maintained by the Ministry of Education Claire Brooks ranks as the second most caned school pupil in the nation’s history. She admitted that the specter of expulsion often loomed large but her outstanding achievements as an international class equestrian and the kudos that she brought to the school often saved her bacon, although rarely her arse. However, all good things must come to an end and eventually she would face her Armageddon.

Claire’s account of her somewhat ignominious eviction from the institution earned her considerable sympathy.

She had been caught in a compromising position with a stable-boy, discussing Ugandan affairs. She was hauled up before the Board of Governors.

“They made a terrible fuss, which I thought was rather silly,” she told her chums. “After all it was supposed to be the age of enlightenment and, besides, back in the day everybody was boffing anything in trousers.”

According to the minutes of the Governors Meeting, now available on the internet, one of the board members, a certain Baroness Fielding, demanded that ‘Miss Brooks should be punished with the most extreme gravity. She needs to be chastised in such a manner that will deter our future pupils from indulging in such rampant promiscuity’. It can now be revealed that Baroness Fielding is the younger sister of Melissa Forsham-Smythe.

“I was hauled before the board,” remembers Claire. “This terrible old ogre called Baroness Fielding droned on and on about the gravity of the situation and the shame I had brought on the school. Apparently my greatest crime was that I had got laid while I was wearing my school uniform. I considered explaining that I had actually taken off my clothes while the deed was being done but she didn’t seem much in the mood for listening. She produced this dusty ledger and informed me that according to ancient protocols I was to be horsed and birched. I had no idea what the fuck she was talking about.”

The horse and birch technique had first been introduced in several independent fee-paying schools, reformatories and military installations during the mid-eighteen hundreds. For many years the heinous punishment was limited exclusively to the male genre.

The first recorded horsing and birching of a female occurred during the Great War. Two Red-cross nurses were accused of fraternizing with the Hun and brought before a military tribunal. It was a difficult situation. The British Army had not yet enlisted women into their forces but the nurses were on active duty on the front-line and consequently fell under their disciplinary bailiwick. The two nurses were held at the Convent de Bon Pasteur while the military-men considered what to do with them.

By this time the Lawrence Sisters had passed on and the original Woody School was governed by the Marchioness of St Ives, a whop-hardened veteran and a highly-respected disciplinarian. The army decided she would be an ideal arbitrator of the case. She was smuggled across the channel to preside over the nurses’ hearing. She was appointed two quarter-sergeants as her advisors during the hearing.

The two unfortunate nurses were eventually found guilty. It fell to the Marchioness to deliver their sentence and she found herself faced with a curious dilemma. If a male member of the armed forces was found guilty of similar charges he would be taken to the stockade to be horsed and birched. It seemed wholly reasonable that the two nurses should be subjected to the same fate. However, this presented a problem. The spray birch favored by the military was only truly effective when administered across exposed flesh. The protocols of the Red-cross dictated that when nurses required corporal punishment the beatings should be delivered across the clothed seat.

The nurses remained under guard in the brig while the Marchioness risked her life crossing the channel several times at the dead of night while she attempted to broker a deal.

It seemed that she had reached an impasse. Both the Army and the Red-cross agreed that the horsing and birching sentence was appropriate. The matter of their bumbags remained the only issue to be resolved.

Finally the Marchioness visited the nurses. The convent was cold and miserable and they were confined to their cells twenty-three hours a day. She explained that if she could not reach an agreement soon they might be held there for several years. She proposed a solution.

The two nurses were smuggled back to Britain under the cover of darkness. They were taken to the Woody School and enrolled as mature students. The Marchioness would personally perform the birching’s in the privacy of her study.

The fate of the nurses was widely reported in the press and the ‘Woody Birchings’ would have unfortunate ramifications for a number of schoolgirls over the next twenty years.

According to Ministry of Education records several of the nation’s most prestigious boarding school’s applied for permission to introduce horsing and birching in extreme circumstances. One of those schools was Dayton Manor which Claire would attend.

The record shows that between the wars nearly a hundred luckless schoolgirls were subjected to the ghastly punishment. After the end of the Second World War the practice was largely abandoned.

As a historic footnote, the Marchioness was later presented with new information regarding the nurses fraternization’s and learned that they had bravely helped dying men to go peacefully into the night. She campaigned for their exoneration and eventually they were presented with Medals of Valor by the King.

Claire Brooks was blissfully ignorant of the colorful history of horsing and birching when she was escorted to the Grand Dame’s study by two burly prefects. She wanted nothing better than to get her punishment over with so that she could go and exercise her pony.

Over the next twenty minutes she would become one of the world’s few living experts in one of the most heinous forms of punishment ever devised.

“I was told to remove my blazer and my bumbags which was a little queer as we were never caned on the bare,” Claire told her chums. “Then I was made to mount up on the back of one of the prefects as if we were preparing for a piggy-back race. It was most undignified. She was built like an outdoor brick-shithouse and made Ivan the Terrible look like a waif. The Headgirl grabbed my wrists and yanked me forward so that my chin was over the top of the prefects head and my arse was raised up in the air. The Grand Dame came around and showed me the instrument that I was to be beaten with. I can only remember thinking ‘Holy Fuck’.”

In some ways Claire Brooks had been lucky. The Grand Dame had only succeeded in acquiring a spray birch which generally only weighs in at three to four ounces, as opposed to an Eton birch that is significantly heavier.

Nonetheless, being horsed and birched is not a taste that is easily acquired. With her arms being yanked out of her sockets by the Headgirl and her buttocks being widely spread due to her legs being wrapped around the prefect’s waist Claire Brooks felt like a sitting duck.

The birch was constructed of a bundle of twenty Betula Pendula twigs bound together with a leather handle. The total length of the birch was twenty-eight inches.

“It was a weird sensation,” Claire reported, “the first three strokes seemed relatively harmless. I was far more dismayed at being horsed than I was at being birched. It is the most humiliating feeling. However, as we progressed the cumulative effect of the birching was getting pretty intense. Thankfully, the Grand Dame stopped at six and I was allowed to dismount from the prefects back.”

Claire assumed that her punishment was over but the Grand Dame had another shock in store for her. The Board had voted on a proposal by Baroness Fielding that Claire should be sacked and the Baroness had prevailed.

It was not until years later that it would be revealed as a result of the Snobs and Rotters tribunal that the Baroness’s sinister sister, Melissa Forsham-Smythe, was cynically targeting top equestrians in a plot to get them expelled from the selection pool for the forthcoming Olympics to allow her daughter, Sarah, a free passage to fame and glory.

“Predictably Ma was less than pleased at this turn of events and she triple zinged me in the back of the Bentley before we’d even left the school grounds. That was most disagreeable. Triple zinging’s on top of a well-birched arse are to be avoided at all costs,” said Claire. “Nonetheless when she learned of the Baronesses involvement she went ballistic. Apparently the Baroness had been a prefect at the Woody School and had cut Ma’s bumbags to tatters a time or two. Sorry Sarah, but Ma is almost as tenacious as your mother and she took the Baroness’s head and had her booted off the Board of Governors. Malicious never forgave Ma for beating up on her sister and ten years later that is how the Snobs and Rotters tribunal began.”

Claire entertained her chums for almost two non-stop hours of Whops and Clobber humour. The guests at the feast tickled their ribs and clapped their hands at her revelations of her life-long errantcy. Finally Claire grinned at her pals.

“Shit I need a drink,” she said and then she took them by surprise. Claire Brooks, the ultimate clothes horse, reached up and loosened her tie and unfastened the top button of her tailored blouse.

No sooner had Claire sunk down in a comfortable seat to enjoy a glass of Cristal than the Bounder barreled down on her.

“We’re going commercial,” said Bernadette.

“We’re going commercial?” laughed Claire.

“You’ll need an agent,” insisted the Bounder. “You don’t know the first thing about selling Whops and Clobber Comedy.”

“And you do?” grinned Claire.

The Bounder cocked her head and hooded her jet-black eyes. “For fifteen percent I’ll teach you everything I know,” she said emphatically.

“Oh good fucking grief,” was all Claire Brooks could think of to say.

Nixdown Nixon was furious. “You never told me about this horsing and birching business,” she said accusingly to Claire. “I’ve known you for fifteen years and you’ve kept this a secret?”

Claire looked taken aback. “I was just using it as a point of reference, it wasn’t any fun Nix. I can assure you of that.”

“Well I’ll thank you to let me be the judge of that,” snapped Nixdown. “Now, I’ll need you to sketch up one of these spray birch’s and give the details to Bernadette so she can track one down.”

“You are truly fucking barking,” groaned Claire.

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