More Tattered Bumbags for the Woody Gals – Brand Spanking New FREE Book

A little later than scheduled but we are pleased to announce the release of the latest installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 24 – The Sting’, and as usual it absolutely FREE for download in pdf format. Lots of thrills and spills in this episode and of course the sound of canes, straps, slippers and wood-backed hair-brushes rebounding off navy blue gossamer bumbags or naked flesh resonate around the Woody facility … for those of you who are new guests, welcome, and if you would like to download the earlier books from the saga just go to Library I and you’ll find them all there … the Galleries contain totally original cartoons created in collaboration with the incredible illustrator Dave Ell to add a bit of color to the stories and bring the characters to life … a brand spanking new toon will be available sometime during the next 48 hours so keep dropping by … but in the meantime just kick-back, pour yourself a quiet glass of wine and enjoy another Wednesday with the Woody Wags … Bottoms Up! … RH

Brand Spanking New Volume Scheduled for Release

Debs has to make a difficult choice between being thrashed with a freshly cut or a well-seasoned tawse … the Woody gals find themselves embroiled in an art heist … Nixdown goes missing … the Wart tries a bacon slicer … Police Sergeant Ellen Millar contemplates the consequences of boffing a gangster … Miss Spanky Botts announces a new venture … Deborah wakes up with a mysterious set of stripes on her bum … Cassie stages a comeback on the Hall of Shame … Claire Brooks and Melons pay the price for a gals night out … and Patty Hodge kvetches at Lady Victoria Brompton’s surprise announcement … all this and more in the brand spanking new installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 24 – The Sting’ scheduled to be released for absolutely FREE download on Wednesday June 30th … so mark your calendars … in the meantime feel free to have a good old rummage around … Bottoms Up! … RH

Congratulations to the Kilahara Library and a quick trip to Planet Nix

Well this was a disappointing weekend for RH … first my adopted country the US bravely failed to overcome the valiant and athletic Ghanaian’s and then the cart-horse representatives of my birth country put up the most miserable performance imaginable and volunteered themselves for a damn good spanking from a team of deft, youthful and extremely talented Germans … however this is a spanking site, so I shouldn’t bother you with such trifles, but if you should care to read a pretty accurate crystallization of my current thoughts on English soccer you should visit this post by the sports journalist Oliver Holt who just about nails everything I would have written or ranted about regarding this sad day in world history … well ok that is probably a bit of a stretch but a sad day nonetheless.

But as RH is a generally optimistic type of cove we should turn our attention to success … some time ago I awarded a ‘Five Red Bums Award’ to the Kilahara Library of Spanking Fiction and today they should be given some more Red Bums as they now have 10,000 stories in their archive. Collecting and referencing this remarkably diverse library of spanking stories is a fabulous effort by Februs, flopsybunny, Linda and pinkangel … most recently they have launched a short story competition and you can view the entries at Contest … it will give you a flavor of the diversity of the content of this completely FREE site … so go take a look and if you like what you see you can register as a member and vote for your favorite story … congratulations to kleestep1959 who was kind and diligent enough to round up 32 writers to make a contribution … well done Y’all.

In the meantime here is a little more from Miss Nixdown Nixon for your enjoyment …. You can find the earlier Chapters at 1&2 and 3&4 by clicking on the highlighted links … I will be back shortly once I have recovered from my stunned devastation … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

Chapter 5 – Mentoring

Debs takes off for her run and I pour two cups of coffee, one for me and one for Jojo. We don’t actually share a study anymore now that we have been elevated to the giddy heights of the Elite but old habits die hard.

I cut through the labyrinth of wood-floored, oak-paneled corridors towards the back stairwell that will take me up to the private landing reserved for the studies of the gals in Phase 7 of our sentences. Nobody is about yet and the only sound is the click of my heels that echo rather eerily around the huge building.

Today I am the designated Duty Monitor and will be responsible for assisting Lady Victoria Brompton and Debs in administrating and maintaining discipline over the inmates. As it is Saturday this will be a full-time job as there are no lectures convened over the weekends. As usual I shall concentrate on administration and will leave the discipline part of the equation to Vix and Debs. After my experiences with the odious Goddesses I am not much inclined towards wielding that type of power and authority.

Nonetheless, I do understand the need for discipline in a facility such as this. Now we could argue until kingdom comes over the rights and wrongs of the Anti-Ladette laws but the fact of the matter is that the government, with the support of the Great Unwashed, took a dim view of our free-wheeling activities and deemed us to be need of Extreme Social Rehabilitation. I may think that this is all fabricated tosh and doubtless history will prove me right. However, when we started our sentences the rules, regulations and protocols were drummed into us, or more accurately spanked into us, and with great vigor.

During the first year of our sentences we were known as Little Brats and designated as Grubbies. Being a Grubby meant that you were assigned to a member of the Elite to act as her fucking serf in return for her mentoring services.

Mentoring services included draping us. By draping I mean turning us face down, arse upwards while they dusted our bumbags. Our mentor was also waggishly known as our Personal Draper.

I was assigned to be mentored by the monstrous be-yotch Katie Beck, while she was still an inmate at the facility.

Now let’s get something straight, Katie Beck was a hard-core criminal and well-known to have been the first female senior vice-president of the Confederacy of Yoofs. How she managed to finagle her way into being charged under the Anti-Ladette laws instead of being carted off wearing a ball and chain to do hard labor is one of the great mysteries of life kept classified by the darkest of the Dark Agents.

The rules, regulations and protocols are contained in mighty tomes and during our first week at the facility we were required to learn them by heart, our mentor could spot test us any time she chose.

Katie, of course, elected to test me regularly and regardless of whether I gave the correct responses or not she always found a reason to yank me over her knee and dust me liberally. Now this type of behavior is guaranteed to give a gal of my temperament a severe dose of the pip so I resorted to my tried and trusted skill in shin-hacking.

This made for an acrimonious relationship. Katie knew that she could not very well report me as most of the dustings were completely unjustified. We began a war of attrition.

Katie is a queer cove by any standards. She is of course knock down beautiful with that mane of hair, bright blue eyes and a body to die for. She is also a cruel, nasty and odious specimen of humanity.

In another of life’s mysteries she had done some more finagling and had got herself elected as Red-shirt. This was due to the fact that during the early part of her sentence her chaps had died in a car crash and Ms Lawton had taken over responsibility for acting as her Court Appointed Guardian. Unwisely Ms Lawton had decided that giving Katie responsibility might increase her ward’s chances of becoming socially rehabilitated. Snakes do not become socially rehabilitated and Katie is a fucking viper.

Early in the piece I was mooching about her study grubbing and overheard her gabbing with her sycophantic confidantes. She was boasting that she intended to thrash every inmate at the facility within her first hundred days of office. According to the record books she achieved this in half the time.

Katie and I fought constantly. She is much bigger than me but she is a vile bully and basically a coward. On several occasions I managed to scratch her face leaving her to try and explain her disfigurement to Ms Lawton.

She in turn responded by habitually yanking down my bumbags and spanking me relentlessly. This was strictly against the protocols but it did earn me the nickname of Nixdown Nixon.

I could have appealed but any such application had to be filed with Patricia Hodge, the Deputy Grand Dame. Patty is another vile and odious specimen and, of course, she was Katie’s personal sponsor and mentor. With that avenue closed to me I continued with my shin-kicking strategy.

Now that I am in the Elite I have my own grubby. I was assigned a fabulous young lady called Francesca Reese. Frankie was an independent actress before she fell foul of the Dark Agents. She is best known for her on-screen delivery of Lady Macbeth’s sleepwalking soliloquy while as naked as a jay-bird.

She has been an occasional bone of contention between me and Penny Ann, who rather distrustfully suspects that I have my eye on my grubby. This understandable as Frankie is something to behold with her mane of golden amulets that pour down her back. However, she doesn’t need to worry as for once in my degenerate life I have made a pact with myself that I will never do anything that would hurt Penny Ann.

Chapter 6 – Planet Nix

Pen and I enjoyed a icy glass of bubbles. She sat on a bale of hay; I lay on my tummy at her feet. I may be Nixdown, woman of steel, but my bum was sizzling and sitting down did not strike me as a particularly attractive proposition.

My bum was burning delightfully. There was no need to hurry things. The night was still young and nobody was going to bother us in our sanctuary and I wanted to savor the moment while I sipped my favorite tipple.

Penny Ann picked up the leather riding crop and toyed with it teasingly in her gloved hands. She was totally relaxed in our private world and she looked magnificent in her skin hugging shirt with her tie slightly loosened.

The crop she was holding is one of my favorites. It is a vintage piece with a braided pig-skin covered shaft and a engraved silver niello handle, finished with a horn knob.

I have been collecting crops obsessively since I was very young and started riding, long before I had any inkling of my persuasion. I suspect that a trick cyclist might make something of the inner mechanisms of my subconscious but I am not a great one for shrinks. I spent a large part of my youth in various doctor’s waiting rooms when the authorities were trying to unveil some dark secret behind my compulsion with shin-hacking. I bamboozled them with a shed-full of porkies. As far as I was concerned my compulsion was a perfectly natural reaction to having my bottom whipped by some snotty be-yotch with a cane in her hand.

I stood up and fetched the bottle and refreshed the glasses. Pen swished the crop through the air playfully. It made a threatening whistle. She smiled at me and winked.

Penny Ann has grown to be at ease with the dynamic of our relationship. It took her a little time to find her comfort zone but these days she is quite happy getting her kicks on Nix-Sixty-Six.

When we first started to play together I’m sure that I confused Pen. She was the Red-shirt of the facility and on two occasions she had been required to dangle me in the disciplinary theater. By being dangled I am referring to being put across her knee, upstairs in the library, and being spanked on my bare bum with the back of a long-handled, oval-headed, wood-backed hairbrush. As I have said earlier I do not take this type of punishment well and according to Penelope Ann I was rather grumpy during these incidents. As a result she was understandably bewildered when I invited her to the stables and demanded that she thrash me with a leather riding crop.

It didn’t take her long to get tuned into Planet Nix and when I’m face downwards across her lap I am always confident that she will not wimp out and hold back.

Yesterday evening she was the Mistress of my destiny and it was up to her to set the pace.

“Come here,” she told me.

I set my glass to one side and stood up. Without needing any further instruction I offered her my wrist so that she could assist me as I arranged myself across her knees.

She turned back my skirt and rearranged my bumbags until they were concertinaed around my ankles. She stroked my red and swollen bum with the over-sized slapper at the tip of the crop and allowed me some time to settle in.

There was absolutely no question that the next few minutes were going to become extremely hot and sweaty. The whippy braided shaft would slice my flesh like a knife cutting through ripe fruit. I was almost delirious with raw adrenalin and anticipation.

Without warning she slashed the crop downwards and my body was instantly wracked by paroxysms of agony which my brain translated into pure ecstasy. I was immediately hurtled on my way to Planet Nix … To Be Continued

Malicious Obsessions and a Brand Spanking New Woody Toon

Those of you who have been keeping up with the Woody Back to School Unit saga and who have read the most recent installment, ‘Volume 23 – Stolen Bumbags’ will know that the dastardly Yvonne Godfrey and Janet Mitchell were captured after their ill-fated attempt to kidnap Cat Cassidy and hold her for ransom. For their troubles they have been sent back to the unit and assigned to the role of full-time grubbies.

You will also be aware that the evil Patty Hodge hasn’t been having it all her own way of late. To avoid being sacked she was forced to spend a week dressed in clobber and suffer the humiliation of acting as Deborah Morton’s personal grubby. Patty is a woman who harbors a grudge and becomes maliciously obsessed with her enemies. She had never liked Deborah but now Debs becomes her bête noir. Famously Patty steals a pair of Deborah’s bumbags and every night she stretches them over an effigy and ritualistically cuts them to tatters with her wye-tipped canes. She announces a ‘Get Morton’ campaign and summons Yvonne and Janet to her study.

Yvonne and Janet are alarmed when she instructs them to dig up some dirt on Debs. Since being captured and sent back to Woodys they have been fitted with ankle transponders and their every movement can be tracked. When they object to the impossible mission Patty threatens to bend them over her desk and thrash them. Both women had experienced the unpleasant sensation of being beaten bandy by Patty and gloomily promise that they will see what they can do.

On Friday evening they learn that Mr Humphries is hosting an off-site meeting for members of the Elite and that the landing that houses the Phase 7 inmates will be unoccupied. They sneak up to Debs study in search of any material that might potentially make trouble for her.

Unfortunately for Yvonne and Janet Mr Humphries has learned of the ‘Get Morton’ campaign and has a plan in place to catch the two be-yotch’s in the act of trying to stitch her up like a kipper. They are startled by the arrival of Claire Brooks and Melons waving red-cards and canes.

At first Yvonne and Janet assume that they will be taken up to the library to be caned but quickly learn that Claire and Melons have other plans for their silk-covered rear ends. They find themselves being escorted out of the building and into the center of the quadrangle. Despite their vehement protests they are forced to bend over the edge of the fountain wearing nothing more than silk jimjams. The Woody gals hang out of windows, glugging champagne that the Bounder has made available at five squids a glass, and whoop and holler as the two evil creatures are treated to running benders from two of the world’s most skilled disciplinarians.

By nature Debs Morton is not a malicious creature but she cannot help but feel a sense of satisfaction as she watches her two arch-nemeses being whopped in such spectacular style.

Despite her natural satisfaction at the outcome of this episode Deborah ruefully confides in her chums that she still feels like a large target has been painted on her bumbags and that every day it seems to get larger … if you want to know how Debs fares in her struggle with the evil Patty then check back next Wednesday when we’ll be releasing the next installment, ‘Volume 24 – The Sting’ absolutely FREE for download.

Occasionally Our Man in Phuket, Dave Ell, sends me various work in progress versions of the toons that we commission. This week I decided to post two versions. The first is the story prior to the dialogue being added and I think it really shows his great skill as an artist and the ability to tell a story with or without words … it is definitely great fun creating these toons to compliment the books and a real pleasure working with Dave … he is a free-lance artist available for commission so if you have ever thought of having a cartoon drawn featuring you and your partner, or any other fantasy for that matter, I would encourage you to contact him … he is relatively inexpensive and has always managed to deliver even when he receives my briefs late in the week or when he is recovering from a monumental hangover after enjoying a few scoops at the many beach bars of Phuket … so kick back and enjoy the new toon’s … tomorrow we’ll be hearing more from Miss Nixdown Nixon so don’t forget to stop back … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

 

 

Who Stole Those Bumbags? … A Spank Filled New FREE Woody Book

Okay … Okay … You wanted to know the answers to such major questions as … Who stole Deborah Morton’s bumbags? … Are you up to date on the latest Whop Junkie Voodoo Rituals? … What exactly is Defenestration and The Waffle Weave Effect? … What have Ptolemy the Twelfth and his daughter got to do with Woodys? … Who was Theresa Berkeley? … Who was the last gal in Modern history to be formally Horsed and Birched? … and Who deliveries Lady Macbeth soliloquies while naked as a jay-bird? … well all you need to do is download today’s absolutely FREE new release ‘Volume 23 – Stolen Bumbags’ … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Stolen Bumbags, Voodoo Rituals and much, much more.

Who stole Deborah Morton’s bumbags? … Are you up to date on the latest Whop Junkie Voodoo Rituals? … What exactly is Defenestration and The Waffle Weave Effect? … What have Ptolemy the Twelfth and his daughter got to do with Woodys? … Who was Theresa Berkeley? … Who was the last gal in Modern history to be formally Horsed and Birched? … and Who deliveries Lady Macbeth soliloquies while naked as a jay-bird? … if any of these questions piqued your antenna the answers to these important issues and much, much more are all revealed in the latest spank-filled installment of the Woody back to School Unit saga.

‘Volume 23 – Stolen Bumbags’ will be available absolutely FREE for download in pdf format on Wednesday 23rd June … so set your calendars.

Launch day of Volume 23 will, of course, coincide with my fellow countrymen stepping out to once again grace the turf of a South African football field … I use the term grace rather facetiously as so far they have been a complete disgrace … as another performance of the caliber of the past two may cause the generally cool, calm and collected RH to have a serious pout I shall be sure to post the latest book before kick-off time in case I feel inclined to spit out my dummy and retire to my scratch for several days … so be warned … if I disappear for a short period you can blame the most misguided Italian to stink up the place since Benito Mussolini was obliged to hand in his ticket … as you can tell I don’t take the beautiful game too seriously … until then feel free to have a good old rummage about, there’s lots to read and see and it’s all absolutely FREE and commercial-free … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Thrashed by a Goddess – More from Miss Nixdown Nixon

Yesterday I did a little house-keeping on the page, I have added a few one-click banners to different sites and cleaned up my blog-roll. I hope that I have included everyone who is generous enough to have included me on their pages … if I have missed you or you would like to be included on my page please do not hesitate to contact me and I’m sure I can accommodate … also if any of you have little (120×60 pixel) banners that you would like displayed please send them to me in jpeg or png format … however, I do not and will not include links to primarily commercial ventures … I have nothing against commercial sites but that is not what this blog was established for so please quit asking as I will continue to decline … thanks in advance.

In my update of the blog-roll I did take the opportunity to add a wonderful new site, Mischief Managed, authored by Rayne (she has the greatest blog addy ‘solemnly swear up to no good!’). Miss Rayne has composed a blog that I think epitomizes what blogging should be about … it is a highly personalized but delightfully irreverent look at her inner spankette … it is fun, well-thought out and it doesn’t do any harm that she is a super writer … so well done Rayne and long may you blog.

Now it is time to continue to explore the more obscure elements of Miss Nixdown Nixon’s mind … I must confess that when I decided to take on Nix I had absolutely no idea where this would go and to be honest with you I am no more enlightened at the end of four chapters … hell why would I? I’m just the author … still it’s fun and as long as I enjoy writing a piece I generally persevere … hey it’s Sunday and thankfully the English football team are not playing and ruining my day … so join me in a serious Bloody Mary … take a load-off and kick back and join me in the investigation of the depravities of Nixdown’s mind … (just click here for Chapters 1 and 2 in case you missed them) … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Chapter 3 – Thrashed by a Goddess

Although my father maintained a beautiful sea-shore house in Somerset he and Petron spent much of the year in Paris and other European locales. So at the age of eleven I was shipped off to boarding school. After a childhood of travelling with my father and living on an unpredictable timetable I was not best suited to the rigors and regimen of boarding school life.

The first of the schools I attended was considered amongst the most prestigious in the country and was certainly amongst the most expensive. It was filled with members of the aristocracy and the daughters of the landed gentry. As the off-spring of a self-made film director I was looked down upon as a parvenu. The gals were a prissy and self-important lot and none more so than the four gals who were known as ‘The Goddesses’.

The four Goddesses were comprised of the Head-Gal and her Deputy and the Captains of the two houses. We were expected to address them as Goddess Ponsonby-Jones, Goddess Seighton-Holmes, or whatever their stuffy names might be.

Nobody seemed to think it the least bit queer to have to say, “Yes, Goddess,” or “No, Goddess”, nobody that is except me who considered it ridiculous.

It was probably from these early experiences that I developed my sense of the absurd and the healthy cynicism of which I am often accused.

I had not long been at this hell-hole before I was summoned to the Head-Gals Chambers.

When I arrived the four Goddesses were waiting for me in all their pompous splendor. The Head-Gal, Goddess Ponsonby-Jones did most of the gabbing, but it turned out that another be-yotch, Goddess Seighton-Holmes was the real villain of the piece.

I was informed that earlier in the evening I had been guilty of ‘Gobbing a Goddess’! Apparently I had passed this be-yotch Seighton-Holmes in the quadrangle and had the audacity to go about my business without stopping and saying, “Good evening Goddess, is there anything I can do to assist you?” She had taken this as a personal slight and felt that she had been well and truly ‘gobbed’ as such behavior was so quaintly termed.

I remember staring at them as if they were aliens from a different planet, which in many ways they were. I muttered some form of an apology although I did not feel in the least bit apologetic, but it didn’t really matter anyway. A cane was produced and I was informed that I was to be thrashed.

I did not take this news well but they gave me a choice. I could either bend over the back of the sofa under my own steam or they would physically hold me down. Needless to say I bent over.

I was so angry that the caning itself did not seem to hurt much. Once Ponsonby-Jones was finished and I was allowed to return to the upright I felt I had no option. I hacked her in the shins!

This resulted in a second caning, which I must admit did hurt rather considerably, although I never let them see that.

This ridiculous incident cultivated my serious dislike for being formally punished which continues to this day. I felt that it was ridiculous that these be-yotch’s had the power to bend me over and beat my arse with a whippy rattan cane.

My stay at the school was an unhappy one, I was at constant war with the Goddesses and gobbed them at every opportunity. They, of course, thrashed me whenever they had a chance. I always felt the need to retaliate with shin-hacking which always guaranteed me a few more strokes.

I actually remained enrolled at the school for almost three years. I think that my father’s generous gifts of new libraries and extensions to the facilities had more to do with that than their desire to retain me as a pupil. After all my father probably had more loot than the combined chaps of the aristocratic bumpkins put together.

I was thrashed fifteen times during my stay. That may not seem a lot when compared to the records of my dear chums Debs, Claire and the Bounder but to put it in perspective most girls at the school went through entire careers getting the cane only once or twice, so clearly I was not popular with the be-yotch Goddesses.

Not that my time was entirely wasted. I wiled away my time by honing my art of seduction and subsidized my allowance giving lessons in French-kissing and the fine art of cunnilingus.

Eventually I was booted out and started a rather peripatetic education. Most schools were loathe to enroll somebody who had an expulsion on their records. I was generally taken on for a probationary period and was rarely invited to extend my stay.

I picked up a few more canings along the way and my shin-kicking responses generally sped up my early evictions.

My final educational hoorah was rather spectacular. I had been enrolled at yet another prissy institute and had immediately busied myself with seducing several members of the Upper Sixth form. Unfortunately I fell foul of the Headgirl.

She was hankering for a little Nicola Jane action but I refused her overtures. After all she had recently bent me over for six of the best and I had standards, bedding down with her would have been tantamount to sleeping with the enemy.

She took out her spite by reporting my activities to the Grand Dame and one morning I was summoned onto the stage in morning assembly and publicly denounced as a degenerate. I was caned in front of the whole school.

I felt I had little choice but to retaliate and for once I didn’t consider shin-hacking to be the appropriate response to being publicly caned so I procured some explosives and fire-bombed the be-yotch’s car. Sadly she wasn’t in it.

As you can tell I was an unlikely candidate for developing a penchant for recreational spanking.

Chapter 4 – Recreational Spanking

Penny Ann did not hold back. She knows my tastes and knows that I do not spend time across her knee’s to indulge in a gentle paddy-whacking.

She had me tucked into the crease of her lap with her arm around my waist. I couldn’t have escaped if I had wanted to. Penelope Ann is phenomenally strong. She was brought up on a farm in East Anglia and despite her chaps being well-heeled and having plenty of staff she was expected to lend a hand in working the land.

I love the feeling of her leather gloved palm rebounding from my naked flesh. I love the sensual leather infused smell of the tack-room and the flickering candle-light. I was in Nixdown heaven and the night had only just begun.

My first foray into recreational spanking was not actually that recreational at all.

I was working on my first movie as an assistant director and dating one of the camera-men, a hunk of a chap.

One evening we had arranged to meet for dinner and for reasons long forgotten I was several hours late. He was furious and when we got back to his apartment he put me over his knee, flipped back my skirt and gave me a damn good spanking.

Needless to say I was outraged and responded in typical Nixdown fashion by hacking him in the shins, slapping him around the kisser and storming off in a high old snit.

However, when I got home I found myself curiously aroused by the memory and found it impossible to sleep. There was nothing else for it, I returned to his apartment and demanded that he Rodger my eyes out, but only after he had put me over his knee for a second time a spanked me until I squeaked. The rest as they say is history.

The heat in my bottom was growing in intensity and I could not help but wriggle and squirm a little under the deluge of spanks. As I squirmed I could feel the softness of the fabric of my blouse against the flesh of my tummy, it was a deliciously exotic sensation.

Recently my clobber consultant sent me samples of a new fabric she had found at one of my favorite tailors in the backstreets of Ho Chi Minh City. It is basically two layers bonded together. The external layer of the garment is a crisp cotton that holds its creases perfectly and its stiffened collar is perfectly spread to accent a well-knotted tie. The secondary internal lining is a beautiful soft and luscious silk.

My chums josh me about my passion for clobber but anybody who tries out well crafted clobber is an instant convert.

My chum Deborah Morton has always been something of a hobo. Even when she was famous and always in the newspapers she always hid under baseball caps, over-sized leather jackets and sweat-pants. The only thing that she ever seemed to spend any money on was cowboy boots, of which she has an extensive collection.

At Woodys she was amongst the most clobber challenged gals in the unit and took numerous unnecessary excursions over Katie Becks lap to have her rump roasted with a leather soled slipper for clobber abuse. I put it down to that cheap catalogue crap she insists on buying. It is a shame really because she is a pretty little thing and I always thought that she would brush up nicely.

When Deborah was promoted to Deputy Red-shirt I decided that it was time to take her in hand. I flew my clobber consultant out to Ibiza, where we were all spending furlough, and had Debs measured up for tailored clobber. She made a terrible fuss about the expense. It is not that she is a tight-wad but she is squirreling away every penny to support herself and her team when she returns to the tennis circuit next year. I reassured her that my father had generously approved the ‘Morton Makeover’ budget. She finally rather poutily succumbed and now she is a convert to my style of radical chic. This is fortunate because she’s back in the news these days and is perceived as an icon for the zeitgeist of Whops and Clobber and it wouldn’t do to have a hobo as our representative. But I digress.

Penny Ann rearranged me in her lap, making sure that I was teed up and primed. I knew what to expect. She was preparing to blitz me.

The blitz is really the heart and soul of a spanking. She had been slowly and methodically smacking my bottom in a predictable tempo, working up one cheek and back down the other. Every spank designed to build up the heat and increase the discoloration of my sitmedown. By then I was deep in the zone and perfectly mentally prepared to be blitzed.

Actually no matter how experienced or whop hardened you become you are never truly prepared to be blitzed. The spanks rained down fast and furious. I couldn’t help myself, I gyrated and kicked my legs spastically. I punched the air and shook my head in bewilderment as her leather hand landed randomly in an alarmingly unpredictable manner. A blitz attack may only last a few seconds but it seems like an eternity.

I lay panting and inert across her knees trying to get my breath back and to stop my pounding heart from leaping out from below my blouse. It was a dizzying sensation and I was in Nixdown heaven. It was clearly time for champagne. … To Be Continued

A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixon – A New Woody Project

Today we launch the start of a new and ambitious writing project. Having enjoyed some success with the two earlier ‘A Life in the Day’ books featuring Jojo and Debs I have succumbed to the temptation of taking on the divinely debauched Miss Nixdown Nixon. For a gentleman of a certain age writing in the first person narrative through the eyes of a woman in her mid-twenties is something of a challenge so we’ll just have to see how it goes … I hope you enjoy this first installment … Bottoms Up! … RH

Chapter 1 – It Started with a Spanking

I wake up in a make-shift straw bed in the tack room of the stable complex. It is only five-thirty in the morning but I am an early riser. My step-mother, Petron, and I used to exercise the horses at dawn, along the beaches outside our home when I was still in the idyllic throes of childhood.

Penny Ann is still sleeping and breathing gently. She has a slightly blissful smile on her face.

I pad barefoot across to the sink and brush my teeth and try to straighten my hair a little. Then I collect my clobber and quickly dress, doing my best not to disturb Pen.

Once I am fully dressed I lean down and kiss her gently. Her eyes flicker open and she smiles sleepily.

“I have to run,” I tell her. “I’m on duty at seven and I need to get some coffee and take a shower. Thanks for last night.”

She gives me a small sleep-giggle. I kiss her again and then cut along.

There is nobody about as I cut across the quadrangle and go into the main house. I head over to the cafeteria in search of java.

I find Debs Morton standing by the machine waiting for it to heat up. She is dressed in training sweats and is on her way for her morning run with Jane Lummell, who is her tennis coach. We often meet at this time of the morning, me on the way home from my trysts with Pen and Debs off on her way to start her busy day.

She grins at me, “So how was it?” She asks cheerily.

“Absolutely divine,” I tell her and I’m not lying. My bum is still tingling deliciously.

We started last evening’s activities with me stretched out across Penny Ann’s lap for a straight-forward, good old fashioned spanking.

When I arrived at the stable Penny Ann was already waiting. She had lit a number of unscented candles and I could see an ice bucket with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot that we would enjoy in the fullness of time.

Penny Ann is a statuesque gal, standing five-feet nine inches in her stockinged feet, which is somewhat taller than little old me.

She was dressed in a black five button riding jacket over a white linen shirt that I bought her the other day and a black silk tie. Her strong legs were shoe-horned into form-fitting charcoal grey jodhpurs that were tucked into knee-high black riding boots. She was holding a braided riding crop between her gloved hands.

Pen wears her mass of blonde curls mussed up on the top of her head. She has strong features dominated by large blue eyes and radiates health. She is my English rose.

We did not waste time with niceties.

“Remove your blazer and place your hands on your head,” she instructed me as soon as I walked through the door.

Penny Ann is a quiet and gentle gal by nature but she served a year in the role of Red-shirt at the unit and was responsible for disciplining hundreds of inmates. She taught herself the art of exuding strength and patrician authority.

I did as I was told.

Penny stood up and set the crop to one side. She took off her black leather gloves and slowly unfastened the five buttons down the front of her jacket.

The stable was quite dark, with just the candles flickering and a little light from the moon and the stars. It was serenely silent with the only sound the occasional snort from the horses in their stalls.

Pen shrugged off her jacket and hung it up beside my red and black striped blazer.

The white cotton and silk material of her blouse clung to her upper torso like a second skin. She was wearing a thick leather belt around her waist that accentuated her hour-glass figure. I thought she looked magnificent.

She rolled back the sleeves of her shirt, unfastened the top button and loosened her tie. She retrieved her gloves and pulled them on.

She walked over and stood before me. As I have said she is significantly taller than me and I had to tilt my head upwards to meet her coolly steel gaze.

She told me to lower my arms and then took me firmly by the wrist. “Come with me, young lady,” she told me and started to stride purposefully across the stables towards a conveniently positioned bale of hay.

I had to scurry a little to keep up in order that I was not being dragged, which would have been a tad undignified.

We reached the bale of hay and she sat down. In one fluid movement she gave my wrist a tug and pulled me downwards across her lap.

She was all business, flipping back my short skirt and rolling down my bumbags.

“Stretch out,” she commanded. “I intend to give you a damn good spanking.”

I shuffled into position and felt myself being pulled tightly into the crease of her lap. I feel the leather of her glove tapping down on my upturned naked flesh and then she raised her arm in the air and brought it down with an explosive smack.

It was not long before I felt the surface of my bum beginning to warm up delightfully.

Chapter 2 – Degenerate

Penny Ann and I have been an item for nearly eighteen months now. I know that on the face of it we seem an unlikely couple. Penny Ann is rather refined and reserved, which is the complete anti-thesis of yours truly.

I am well aware that my reputation precedes me and that Pen’s closest chums counseled her to give me a wide berth. I can’t say that I really blame them as I suppose I have always reveled in my reputation as a degenerate.

Actually I feel that degenerate might be a little harsh; secretly I prefer to consider myself to have liberal tendencies. However, I have kind of embraced the notion of degeneracy since the Grand Dame at one of the many schools that I attended felt the need to publicly denounce me as such in a crowded assembly hall.

We have known each other for yonks, dating back to the glorious days when we rode competitively against each other and then on the same national team that swept the continent winning trophies and rosettes wherever we went. ‘We’ being Penny Ann, Jojo, Claire Brooks and I.

Penelope Ann Evans was the eldest amongst us and the Captain of the team. She was always quiet and reserved but she was a fabulous rider and led by example.

What a team we were. My dearest, life-long chum Jojo was the heart and soul of the team. On the rare occasions things were not going too well she would rally us and inspire us with her fearless performances.

Claire Brooks always looked as if she had stepped off the cover of Country Life. Long and lithe, pristine and elegant, and then she would open her mouth. Claire’s mother used to attend most meets and I can’t tell you how many times we witnessed poor old Claire being unceremoniously yanked across her mother’s knees to be soundly spanked with a wood-backed hairbrush for potty-mouthing, regardless of the audience.

I was the problem-child of the team due to the fact I was often between schools due to my unfortunate habit of being expelled.

When I was unavailable our first reserve Sarah Forsham-Smythe would take my place. Sarah of course is the daughter of the billionairess Melissa Forsham-Smythe. Melissa was always apoplectic that her off-spring was not a first choice and it is only recently that we have learned the extremes that she was willing to go to in order for her daughter to get to ride in the Olympics.

Pen and I were good chums but we were so very different I never considered her as a target for a potential conquest.

We were all gob-smacked when Penny Ann failed a urine test before a major event and was sentenced to seven years at Woodys under the recently enacted Anti-Ladette laws. A more unlikely Ladette would be hard to imagine.

Jojo took over as Team Captain and Sarah became a permanent fixture on the squad. We had no idea that within the next two years that the team would be decimated and that Jojo, Claire and I would all be fitted out for clobber.

Around this time Jojo and I started our Creative Arts company. Jojo concentrated on theater and the production of industrial size sculptures. I had decided to follow in my father’s footsteps and work behind the camera.

My father is Nicolas Nixon and her has been directing and producing movies for over thirty years. He has never been Hollywood mainstream but his films have played to packed movie houses all over Europe. He is considered to be a cultural icon in Czechoslovakia.

I was brought up surrounded by exotic artistic specimens and none more so than my step-mother Petron. I never really knew my birth mother as she died in a car crash when I was barely able to walk.

Petron was my father’s muse and had starred in his earliest films and they married two years after my mother’s untimely passing. She is French and extraordinarily beautiful. She coached me in the ways of the world at a very young age.

I started out making music videos. It was tremendous fun and I fancied myself as a rather racy artist working on the cutting edge. In hindsight those early videos were somewhat naïve and pedestrian although at the time I considered them to be very risqué.

I had not yet discovered my inner spankette and it was not until slightly later that I began to include the BDSM themes that caused me to suffer considerable harassment from the Dark Agents of the System and were used as an excuse to bang me up at Woodys.

In fact I am a rather unlikely candidate for my chosen fetish as my early experiences of corporal punishment were far from erotic … To Be Continued

Two Spanking New Toons for the Price of One … A Tale of Unsuccessful Reform

Today’s spanking new toon features two of my favorite characters from the Woody Back to School Unit Saga. The engagingly roguish Bounder has played a starring role in several previous toons and today she is joined by another of my Woody favorites … Miss Lisa Sutton, aka the Minxster.

I have actually been writing the Lisa character for many years and she is loosely based upon a charming young lady whose acquaintance I made back in the early 1980’s. Lisa, (name changed to protect the innocent), was briefly part of the ‘Nixdown Set’, a group of somewhat notorious young ladies who were active in the underground London BDSM scene.

In London there is a restaurant known as School Dinners, which has now metamorphosed into a lucrative commercial venture which is mostly frequented by the Great Unwashed out and about on stag and hen parties or used for office celebrations by bankers and Civil Servants. However, when it first opened in the late 1970’s in the Barracuda Club on Baker Street it was a rather more interesting and eclectic spot. Most of the waitresses were active spankettes, several of whom were quite well known spanking models and featured in the publications of auteurs such as Harrison Marks. During the brief time I knew her Lisa worked at the club as a waitress and she was an active and enthusiastic member of the London spanking party scene.

She had an interesting back-story as she is the only woman of our taste that I have ever met who discovered her inner spankette by not being spanked, or not being caned to be more precise.

Apparently she attended a very respectable all-girls independent school in North London and during one of her senior years she and a group of friends decided to play truant. They were unfortunately caught and marched back to school and paraded before the principal.

This incident occurred in the late ‘70’s around the time that the use of the cane was in the process of being abolished. According to Lisa, at the school she attended, the use of corporal punishment was still an available option to the principal but by that time was only used as a last resort.

Apparently the principal was not immediately available to interview the miscreants and they were left to nervously wait outside her study. Amongst the group was one girl who had actually experienced the cane and she spent the time terrifying her friends with her account of the experience. Lisa said that by the time they were finally brought into the study she was in a blue funk.

Fortunately, they escaped the ultimate penalty and were instead ‘gated’ for the remainder of the term. Lisa told me that their lucky escape was largely due to the fact that she was something of a stellar student and her lapse was considered uncharacteristic. She said that she was enormously relieved by her escape and assured me that this experience had no erotic overtones at the time.

However, she confided that as time went on she found herself engaging in day-dreams/fantasies that involved her in a variety of scenario’s that featured her being caught in acts of wrongdoing and waiting to learn her fate. She said that at first she did not fantasize about the actual punishments but that it was the state of nervous suspense that intrigued her. It was not until later that she would begin to extend her daydreams to actually being punished.

She left school and attended university, attaining an honors degree in Physics and was accepted into a Masters program. She told me that at college she had occasionally engaged chaps that she was dating in playing out her fantasies but they had shown little interest and had demonstrated a disappointing ineptitude in the fine art of spanking.

Before continuing on her academic path she elected to take a year off to travel and rather boldly she explored the BDSM scenes in both New York and San Francisco. Upon returning home she took the job at School Dinners for a lark, (plus the tips were exceptional), and soon began to participate in the London spanking party scene.

She was a highly amusing and articulate young lady and constantly wrestled with the dilemma between continuing to indulge herself in the somewhat stress-free life of being a spanking waitress and returning to the hallowed halls of academia to struggle with the complexities of the world of advanced physics. She would kvetch amusingly about her intentions to reform.

I have no idea what became of her as she disappeared from our circle rather abruptly, I rather fancy that she had a falling out with Nixdown, but she did leave me with enough enduring memories and more than enough little factoids to create the character of Lisa Sutton.

In the Woody Back to School Unit saga Lisa establishes herself as a permanent fixture amongst the highest echelons of the Hall of Shame. However, unlike mega-minxes such as Jojo, Debs and Cassie Cassy who pursue whops as a competitive sport and are constantly vying for poll position on the Big BUTT Lisa has no such lofty aspirations. Her high rank on the Hall of Shame is solely due to her unfortunate perennial naughtiness.

In today’s toon Lisa is once again determined to embark upon a program of reform and is so confident in the success of her new campaign that she is even willing to stake large quantities of wedge with the Bounder.

Unfortunately, as usual, her over-active naughty gene interferes with her plans and she’s soon back in Mr Humphries office, bending over for whops, causing her to lament that “I’m a very naughty gal, but I’m not a bad gal!!!” … Poor Lisa.

As usual Our Man in Phuket Dave Ell has done a wonderful job bringing Lisa and the Bounder to life … there was a minor discrepancy in the first rendition of the toon which Dave kindly rectified … however despite the greater accuracy of the revised version I couldn’t make up my mind which I preferred so I have posted them both for your entertainment so enjoy two for the price of one … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

 

Volume 22 – Broken Link Fixed – My Thanks to Indy

My thanks to Indy from the awesome Not So Submissive blog for kindly pointing out that the link to ‘Volume 22 – The Man from Berlin’ in last night’s post was not working as advertized … now fixed and frankly I blame jet-lag and the administrative staff, and that is my story and I am sticking to it  … it is also now available in Library I … sorry for the inconvenience … Bottoms Up! … RH

Who is the Man from Berlin? Download Wednesdays FREE book and find out

Another week has sped past and its Woody Wednesday and time for our regular release of the latest installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga. As usual ‘Volume 22 – The Man from Berlin’ is available absolutely FREE for download in pdf format by simply clicking on the red title link.

There are plenty of thrills and spills in this latest installment and a surfeit of spanking good fun … I am still combating the rigors of extreme jet-lag so without further ado I invite you to download the book and then kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

More Adventures and Misadventures from the Woody Gals Coming Soon!!!

After a rather grueling and mind-numbingly boring trek across the globe RH is severely jet-lagged but thankfully back in the warmth of the bosom of his family … in this week’s installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 22 – The Man from Berlin’, the Woody Gals continue to be threatened by the pesky Yoofs and the wicked be-yotch Melissa Forsham-Smythe. The new episode will be available for FREE download on Wednesday June 16th so set your calendars.

When I launched last week’s segment, ‘Volume 21 – The Return of the Ice Maiden’ I wondered how regular readers would respond to the slight diversions from the central spanking theme … my best barometer are the reading stats over at the Kilahara Library of Spanking Literature and I was gratified to find that the book received one of my best ever first-week readerships.

It was always been my intention to create a body of work (I hope that doesn’t sound pretentious) that contained a broad cast of characters that exist in a recognizable environment and in order to achieve that I have felt the need to occasionally divert from the swishes and thwacks of whippy rattan rebounding off tautened navy blue gossamer bumbags. Nonetheless, even during these slight meanderings spanking remains the heart and soul of the stories and central to the theme of the adventures and misadventures of Jojo and her chums.

I was also gratified to see the incredible response to the release of the full-length version of ‘A Life in the Day of Jojo Heyworth’. As I am a male of a certain age writing through the eyes of a young woman in her mid-twenties is a challenge but I have to say that it has been interesting so my next writing adventure is to take on the challenge of describing a life in the day through the eyes of the deliciously debauched Nixdown Nixon … I have no idea how that will go but as long as I am enjoying myself I shall persevere and hopefully you will join me on my odyssey.

In the meantime please take some time and rummage through the libraries and have a good chuckle at the toons in the galleries … will be back shortly … Bottoms Up! … RH

Kidnapped!!! Another Spanking Hot Toon

For those of you have downloaded the latest FREE installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 21 – The Return of the Ice Maiden’, (and shame on you if you haven’t), I’m sure that you will agree that this brand spanking new original toon compliments the book marvelously.

Once again it was a real challenge to come up with a brief that captured this episode of dastardly skullduggery and chicanery in just one brief toon … as you can see My Man in Phuket Dave Ell has responded by cranking out a magnificent exhibition of his inimitable craft. As I have said before I am still learning about the art of creating original cartoons and it is as much about what to leave out as what to include.

For those of you who haven’t read the book and are scratching your heads at this latest rendition here’s the skinny behind the story-line.

The Ice Maiden of the title is none other than Yvonne Godfrey, the former tyrannical Commandant of the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers, aka as the ‘SS’, during the heinous days of Operation Scorched Arse.

Godders, as she is known to her sycophantic cronies, or Goddess, as she prefers to pronounce it, put the ‘Be’ in Be-Yotch. For several years she was the most powerful female on the board of directors of the criminal gang known as the Confederacy of Yoofs. After years of unsuccessfully attempting to convict her by conventional means the Dark Agents of the System were summoned and she was charged under the more flexible Anti-Ladette laws. During the hearing she was branded as ‘A Menace to Society’. A reputation she positively revels in.

Sentenced to seven years at the Woody Back to School Unit without the possibility of parole she is reunited with another former senior Yoof, Katie Beck. She is immediately introduced to Patty Hodge who instructs Katie to recruit Yvonne and to covertly train her in the abuse of the rules, regulations and protocols in preparation for embarking upon a rule of terror and tyranny.

The final year of Yvonne’s sentence at the unit coincides with Ms Lawton’s launch of the austere regime known in Woody lore as Operation Scorched Arse. The former principal announces a zero-tolerance policy and brands the units most notorious mega-minxes as the ‘Dirty Dozen’ and declares war on their bumbags.

Unshackled by the normal restrictions placed upon the prefects Yvonne Godfrey is free to co-ordinate her sycophantic cronies into a heinous and cruel division of the Elite known as the ‘Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers’.

Yvonne and her troops proceed to cut the bumbags of the mega-minxes to tatters at a record-breaking pace. The likes of Jojo, Nixdown, Rosemary, and Debs in particular are targeted ruthlessly and spend many painful hours touching their toes in front of the fireplace upstairs in the infamous library, aka as the ‘Punishment Room’.

Characteristically the Woody gals refuse to be cowed by the heinous regime and defiantly goof, gab, lark and prank uproariously despite the constant danger to their threadbare navy blue gossamer bumbags.

In the very popular volume of the saga, ‘Volume 4 – The Inmates Strike Back’, Ms Lawton finally returns to her senses and allows the mega-minxes to reap their revenge.

Having been released from the Unit Yvonne is tempted to revert to her criminal ways and after the Snobs and Rotters Tribunal she approaches the wicked be-yotch Melissa Forsham-Smythe and the Confederacy of Yoofs with an outrageous proposal.

She plans to kidnap Cat Cassidy and hold her for ransom. Unfortunately for Yvonne the Yoofs decide to mobilize a contingent of Scouser’s for the mission and it all goes pear-shaped in a heart-beat. For those of you unfamiliar with the term Scouser it refers to the inhabitants of a British city in the North of England otherwise known as Liverpool.

I originally hail from the glorious City of London and am a product of the great North/South divide and have little stock for Scousers. There are of course exceptions; Merseyside has managed to crank out a few greats, notably the Beatles and Steve Gerrard who will hopefully grace the World stage in South Africa with his outrageous talent and spirit. Oh and of course the most famous and brilliant Scouser of all is none other than my collaborator Dave Ell, although the world famous spanking illustrator now considers himself to be Thai royalty.

The daft and mainly inebriated Scousers make the grave mistake of snatching the Bounder during the caper. Bernadette is not best pleased to be bagged and gagged and proves quite a handful to the shaved-headed, tattooed and body pierced Yoofs taking an eye or two and several fingernails of flesh before she is subdued.

Bernadette Summers godfather is the notorious gangster Stacks Monroe and he does not take kindly to his treasured god-daughter being abducted and strapped down across a vaulting horse so that she can be thrashed by the evil Ice Maiden.

In order to fully appreciate the brilliance of Dave’s latest work of art I strongly encourage you to download the book(s) from Library I  … it’s Saturday, RH is wending his weary way back to the arms of My Beloved Jojo after a long stint on the road … so crack open a bevy or two, kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

 

Thrills and Spills at the Woody Unit in a Brand New FREE Book

It’s Wednesday once again and time for the launch of the latest installment in the Woody back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 21 – The Return of the Ice Maiden’ just click on the title for an absolutely FREE download in pdf format.

My apologies for this rather abbreviated post but the idiosyncratic vagaries of a paying  client are proving something of a disagreeable distraction … but fear not normal transmission will resume shortly … so, in the meantime, please feel free to download the latest story … kick-back and enjoy the shenanigans of the Woody Gals at you leisure … Bottoms Up! … RH

A Life in the Day of Jojo Heyworth – The Conclusion

For some months I have been posting intermittent episodes of the story ‘A Life in the Day of Jojo Heyworth’ and finally I am proud to launch the final three concluding chapters.

As a male of a certain age, writing first person narrative through the eyes of a female in her mid-twenties has been quite challenging. However as the subject matter is my own Beloved Jojo it has also been extremely enjoyable. Unusually Jojo has chosen not to comment during the work in progress so I hope that she will enjoy the final result as much as I enjoyed writing about her … Bottoms Up Jojo! … I have compiled the chapters into a complete book and it is available absolutely FREE for download in The Woody Library II … I hope you enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Chapter 36 – Highly Recommended

Just before midnight Mr Humphries announces that the limousines are waiting and that we should return to the facility.

Ellen and Mickey leave the VIP area to make sure that our exit is relatively painless. Our new found celebrity is quite flattering I suppose but getting through a restaurant filled with squiffy Woody fans can sometimes prove to be quite a chore.

Thankfully the main room only has a few stragglers and they just nod politely and some of them raise their glasses and toast us as we make our way to the side entrance.

Melons, Cat and the Butchers Twins are going off dancing at one of the Woody friendly night-clubs in town, the rest of us will return to the safety of the compound.

We hug and kiss Melons and wish her a great night and then climb into the leather luxury of the stretch-limousines.

Of course these luxurious chariots of transport are provided courtesy of Stacks Monroe, who has fingers in every pie imaginable. Conveniently, Cat Cassidy’s boyfriend Mark runs Stacks local operation and almost anything we need is readily available to us.

Oliver and Cassie come out to wave goodbye and Oliver has generously made sure that the ice-buckets in the back of the limos have been stocked with bottles of Veuve Clicquot for the short journey home.

We are all a little squiffy so the banter in the back of the limo is of the highest quality and in less than twenty minutes we are cruising through the huge gates of the facility.

The driveway to the facility is lined with ancient Oaks, it is quite impressive. We pull up in front of the main building and clamber out. The venue that Ms Lawton selected for the facility used to be one of the most prestigious and expensive girls boarding schools in the country. It was called the Woody School which is where the name of the facility stems from.

Despite the fact that it is now tantamount to a prison, although it is more politely referred to as a ‘Government Correctional Institute’ it is a pretty swanky address. It sits in 70 acres of woodlands located on the stunning Sussex Downs.

The main building is a huge affair built on four storeys with several wings. Behind the main building there is a quadrangle and cloisters, a bell-tower and a huge recreation area. Elsewhere there is the Great Hall, the science building, a wellness center and gymnasium, a chapel tennis courts, hockey fields, an orchard and an ornamental rose garden, and various converted barns that serve as accommodation units for the Brass and the Old Gals. Outside the walls are thousands of acres of unspoiled country-side leading all the way to the sea-shore. All in all it is not a bad place to live, if we weren’t prisoners of a dark and cynical government.

Nixdown hugs me goodnight. She has a twinkle in her eye and I suspect that she is planning on spending the night with Penny Ann over in the stables. Actually Pen and Nix are quite at liberty to spend the night together in Penny’s well-appointed quarters but Nixdown has a certain taste for tack-rooms, especially when she has a few cocktails inside her.

I bid my chums good night and am pleased when Mr Humphries slips his hand into mine and we stroll together towards the private cottage.

Once we are inside Mr Humphries tells me that there is a bottle of champers chilling in the fridge if I would care to fetch it. He also tells me that he has some calls to make. It is nearly one o’clock in the morning. I have no idea who he makes these strange late night calls too, when I ask he just smiles and never responds.

It is strange that I will marry a man I know almost nothing about. He rarely speaks about his past and never mentions his family.

I once asked Ms Lawton whether she knew anything about him and she told me a funny story. She said when the Ministry was considering him as her replacement the Minister told her that he came highly recommended. When she asked the Minister who had made the recommendations he scratched his head and admitted that he actually didn’t know, but that everybody he had spoken to had merely said that Mr Humphries came highly recommended.

Perhaps when I am a free woman and his wife he will let me into his dark secrets.

Chapter 37 – The Joys of Minxing

I go to the kitchen and collect an ice-bucket and the champagne. I pour two glasses and take them back to the living room. Mr Humphries is already in his study so I go and knock on the door. He winks at me but he is already on his speaker-phone so I back out gracefully.

I take my bubbly and go upstairs to change into my jimjams.

When I open the door to the bedroom the first thing I notice is a two-tailed leather tawse lying prominently on the duvet.

This comes as something of a surprise as it was not there when I left the bedroom and I do not remember him going upstairs before we left. That is too bizarre.

I take off my clobber and hang it up in the closet and fetch my red and black striped jimjams and put them on. I know what is expected so I pad across the room and take up position facing the wall. I place my hands on top of my head and touch the tip of my nose against the wood-paneling. I suspect Mr Humphries will be up in the next fifteen minutes to put me over his knee.

Six months ago, before I began my relationship with the Grand Master I had absolutely no interest in gratuitous whops. My pursuit of whops and competitiveness on the Big BUTT had nothing to do with liking going about the place sporting hot stripes in my bumbags. It was all about the love of the joys of minxing.

At school I was not a particularly naughty gal and rarely got into trouble. There was no spanking or corporal punishment so getting in trouble meant time-consuming visits to the detention room to write tedious lines which interfered with my two great passions, riding and running the theater group.

When I first arrived at Woodys I was still sporting a virgin arse so being put over my Personal Draper’s knee’s for my first training spankings was something of an eye-opener. So, too, were the copious rules, regulations and protocols that I was forced to read and memorize during my induction week. In fairness to Ms Lawton, she prided herself that she ran ‘the ship of no surprises’. It was all there laid out in black and white, the life I had ahead of me.

Every minute of our lives was carefully scheduled and the expectations for our behavior set-out in minute detail. More alarming, of course, was the extensive lists of the ramifications of misbehavior. It was immediately clear to me that life at Woodys was designed to be tough.

I got my first formal spanking during our first week in the lecture rooms. Predictably it was the odious Wart who inducted my bumbags. It was a very strange experience being hauled up in front of a group of young women I barely knew, put over the Wart’s knee and being given my first public dusting.

After lectures finished I was required to repair immediately to the Phase 7 landing to embark upon my grubbing duties. I was also required to inform Valerie, my mentor that I had been spanked.

She just shrugged and asked me “How was it?”

The question completely took be aback and I had no idea how to respond.

“Actually,” I reported, “it was most disagreeable.”

She just laughed and told me that I’d get used to it. I was not too sure about that.

A few days later Debs got into the action and took a trip over Stephanie Powell’s knee. I had never really ever seen a full-blooded spanking, except snippets in movies and productions of ‘Kiss me Kate’. It was quite an revelation watching Deborah draped out having her bumbags besieged by a flurry of spanks.

What I did not know at the time was that Debs had purposefully engineered her spanking out of some misguided sense of duty. In some ways it was a god-send for her as it seemed to pull her out of the deep depression that resulted from the horrible ‘anti-Debs’ campaign that featured daily in the skank-sheets owned by Melissa Forsham-Smythe. As I have said earlier it was a pivotal point in both of our lives.

As usual Cat Cassidy articulates it best when she says that “nobody much cares for being spanked or caned but there would be little point in minxing if there were no consequences.”

I heartily endorse that sentiment. It is sheer joy of the constant game of cat and mouse that we play with the Brass and the Elite that has made life bearable inside this place for so many years.

Once Debs had emerged from her dark place it became obvious that we were going to embark upon a contest, friendly of course but highly competitive. We were quickly and enthusiastically joined by Nixdown and Rosemary and I think that it’s safe to say that between us we have extended the art of minxdom to new and giddy heights. For six years the results of our mischief and mayhem have followed in our wake.

Chapter 38 – Gratuitous Spankings

It was not until Mr Humphries arrived on the scene that gratuitous spanking reared its head. They started at the Saturday Night Feasts.

We were all rather surprised when Mr Humphries sent out invitations to the first feast. He had already significantly changed our menu by firing the third-party caterers and had made Dotty and Cassie Cassy responsible for all matters regarding the provision of our daily tucker, and what a difference it made.

However, nothing had prepared us for the first feast. The Grand Master had limited the guest list to the highest echelons of the Hall of Shame. Of course all of the Famous Four were invited along with our closest comrades-in-arms.

The food was magnificent and the wines exquisite, but we would shortly learn the basis for his selection of guests.

Upon our arrival we had each been handed a small envelope and told we should not open them until permission was given. After dinner we were instructed to open the envelopes and found that they each contained a playing card. Mr Humphries informed us that the recipients of each of the four aces and the one-eyed jack would be spanked on the stage by Lady Victoria.

At first we were incredulous but after a few moments of telepathic communication around the table we just sighed and complied.

Of course I was one of the guests with the misfortune to be selected to be spanked and also got the somewhat dubious privilege of going first.

Now, of course, Vix was not handing out full-on punishment quality spankings but even so being dangled over her lap for a dozen quite meaty cracks of her ceremonial wood-backed hairbrush still got my attention.

We were all rather nonplussed by this turn of events and the following morning the gratuitous spankings were all the gab in the cafeteria when we convened for much needed Bloody Mary’s and mimosas.

At first the prevailing feeling seemed to be that we got quite enough whops in our daily lives without the introduction of gratuitous spanking into our social calendars.

Surprisingly those of us who had actually been required to participate in the after-dinner entertainment were amongst the least strident. To tell you the truth once I had got over my initial shock it hadn’t seemed all that bad. After all I was amongst my closest chums, we were having some fun and as I say Vix had not exactly been putting her arm into it.

There were still nay-sayer’s but when the invitations came out the following Saturday there was not a single refusal.

Around this time I began to feel that Mr Humphries might be something of a card-sharp. He introduced several different variations of the selection theme which all included playing cards. At the end of the first few feasts I found myself amongst the luckless recipients of the post-dinner spankings. I talked to my chums about my suspicions but they laughed and talked in tongues and if I remember correctly Debs tried to explain it was just a phenomenon known as centralized probabilistic theory, whatever that might mean? However I was always privileged to sit to the right of Mr Humphries and he never gave the slightest hint of any ‘Whop Jojo’ conspiracies so I kept my suspicions to myself.

We were about to break for the Xmas furlough and I was waiting for Nixdown to return from the stables where she was saying good-bye to Penny Ann. Most of the inmates had left the compound and I was at a loose end. Victoria dropped by to say ciao but had to hurry away. She asked me rather coyly why I didn’t go and buy a bottle of bubbles from the Bounder and go up and say Happy Christmas to Mr Humphries.

I have no idea what possessed me to follow this advice but I did. I was extremely nervous but he appeared to be delighted. We drank a glass or two and chatted about the upcoming furlough. He had been invited to the annual New Year’s bash at Brompton Castle and we joked about how much fun it would be. In the background I heard the sound of Nixdown’s father’s chopper landing on the hockey field so I prepared to make my graceful exit and then he kissed me.

He spanked me at the New Year’s Ball, just gently over the seat of my gown. I made the mistake of taunting him that he would be better off spanking me with a wet piece of lettuce. Without saying a word he responded by turning back my flowing skirt, rolling down my silk panties and thoroughly spanking me until my poor beleaguered bum was as red as two ripe tomatoes. I have given up taunting him since.

As our private relationship has developed I spend more time in residence at his cottage and a whole lot more time laid out across his knees with my bumbags around my ankles.

At first I didn’t know what to make of this. I am not naïve, I have been best chums with Nixdown for over a decade and have tried to understand her penchant for pain, but I have never equated her predilections with me.

I have always hated being over the knee in the ultimate pose of defenseless, subjugation but now when I hear Mr Humphries familiar tread on the stairwell I am excited and genuinely look forward to being head down, arse up across his lap.

I hear him slowly turning the door-knob and the excitement and sense of apprehension is almost over-whelming. He enters the room and closes the door, and that my friends is when I must close my own door. What goes on in our private chamber is our private business … Cya … Love Jojo.

Brand Spanking New FREE Book Scheduled for Release

Kidnappings, Public Floggings, Food Fights, Mass Beatings … it’s all there in the latest fun-filled installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 21 – The Return of the Ice Maiden’ … as usual the latest update to the adventures of the mega-minxes at the Unit will be available for absolutely FREE download in pdf format on Wednesday, June 9th.

Once again this latest yarn has some curious twists and turns and may disappoint some readers who want whops on every page … as the saga progresses I have tried to expand the formulation of the characters and the situations that they find themselves in … but fear not, bear with me, there is more than enough spanking contained between the covers to satisfy even the die-hard whops only readers.

I received and awfully nice comment the other day from a young lady who works the night shift as a security guard … she told me that her job was intensely boring but made all the more bearable by the weekly adventures of the Woody Gals … for technical reasons I was unable to include it in the comments area, but thank you Ma’am … you know who you are.

It’s Sunday, Bloody Mary and mimosa day … so kick-back … and have a good old rummage around the site … there is lot’s to read and see … all spanking good fun and better still all FREE and completely commercial free … Bottoms Up! … RH!

The Dave Ell Connection and a Woody Appreciation Day

I was first inspired to contact the illustrator Dave Ell when I happened upon his own creations, ‘The Sammy Simpkins Collection’ and his collaborative works commissioned by Miss Emma Bishop of ‘The Trouble with Emma’ fame (or infamy depending on your perspective). I have been writing spanking stories for over thirty-five years and I had always thought that the Woody Back to School Unit stories cried out for comedic illustration,  but unfortunately I can’t draw the curtains without adult supervision, so I tracked down the notorious Scouser at his beachside dwelling in Phuket.

Dave did his very best to interpret my amateur briefings and to try and bring the characters and stories to life … the initial efforts were laudable but it took some persistence to reach the type of collaborative understanding that I think we have now achieved … Dave has established the pictorial visions of the central characters and can now draw them effortlessly, which leaves him time to concentrate on new angles and perspectives to stop the toons from becoming stale.

For me it has been a creative adventure … learning to try and work out what should be in a toon and more importantly what needs to be left out … it is a different medium from writing prose and dialogue and has been a fun and inspiring creative experience so my thanks to Dave and hopefully we will continue to crank out weekly toons for your enjoyment and I shall keep him in enough retirement funds for the Phuket beach bars to continue to remain open long into the night for some time to come … a selection of his masterpieces are posted at the foot of this post … and of course, the complete collection is available at Woody Gallery I and Woody Gallery II.

Speaking of collaborations I would like to extend my thanks and appreciation to Linda who is a volunteer at the wonderful Kilahara Library of Spanking Fiction. Linda acts as editor of the Woody Back to School Unit stories posted at this remarkable FREE community site and has the unenviable task of wrestling with my infamously random use of the apostrophe. She does a fantastic job and writes witty little synopses of each chapter, all in Woody jargon … so a very special Bottoms Up to Linda.

I was flattered earlier this week to be selected for inclusion in the All Spankings Blog hosted by RK. This blog chooses who is included so I am proud to be featured alongside some of the most noted spanking bloggers amongst our community.

And of course while I’m on the subject of community work it would be remiss not to mention the work of the legendary Chross, the very generous hostess and bon viveur Bonnie Burns at My Bottom Smarts, Thomas and Cookie at the Spanking Bloggers Network and Richard Windsor for The Spanking Universe. These dedicated people put an enormous amount of time into keeping the community updated with up to the minute news of current activity on the ever-increasing roll of spanking blogs that continue to emerge … our thanks to all of you.

It is always flattering to be acknowledged by other bloggers especially when they are as charming and articulate as Indy at Not So Submissive who took the time to write this awesome review of the Woody Back to School Unit, titled ‘Wednesdays with the Woody Wags’. Indy is a fine writer in her own right and I was truly flattered by her piece.

And my thanks also to Taylor Anderson, who guest posts over at the MarQe’s Study, for her kind words (you need to page down a couple of times to view Taylor’s very nice tributes to the Woody back to School Unit).

It’s the weekend so I invite you to open a tipple of your choice … kick-back … and have a good old rummage around the site … lot’s to read and see … all spanking good fun and better still it’s all FREE and commercial free … Bottoms Up! … RH!

 

Blog 300!!! – Oh Debs! – You Naughty Gal!!!

For reasons best known to themselves an obscure rock band, who were active during the 1980’s around Sheffield in the North of England, chose to perform under the name, ‘The Naughtiest Girl in the School was a Monitor’ … well at the end of her first week in the Elite that is exactly how Debs Morton feels … after a catastrophic first week in office she finds herself in the unenviable position of being the first member of the Elite ever to be top ranked on the Annual Big BUTT … for the full story visit the library and download the FREE full-length book ‘Volume 20 – The New Elite’.

Once again Our Man in Phuket, Dave Ell, has done an electrifying job in bringing poor old Debs woes to life …enjoy … Bottoms Up! .. RH

 

 

 

Brand Spanking New FREE Volume and a Teaser Toon

Roll-up, Roll-up folks!!! … Here’s the latest FREE installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 20 – The New Elite’, available for download in pdf format. This episode features the abundant sounds of rattan canes, leather straps and rubber-soled slippers rebounding off the tautened navy blue gossamer bumbags of the mega-minxes serving sentences at the Extreme Social Rehabilitation facility as they return from their Summer furlough.

Über-Minxes Jojo, Debs, Nixdown, and Rosemary have to become acquainted with their new roles as the prefectorial Goddesses’ of the Elite corps who are required to maintain discipline and curb outbreaks of mischief and mayhem when the inmates are away from the lecture rooms … as usual poor old Debs has the most difficulty in adjusting and controlling her naturally malfeasant ways with spectacular results … today’s featured extract toon is just a taster for the full toon planned for the weekend … so download the book … kick-back … pour a glass of vino and enjoy … it’s another spanking fun Wednesday at Woody World … Bottoms Up … RH