To Delay or Not To Delay … That is the Question

Today’s new extracts from ’A Life in the Day of Rosemary Booker’ finds our heroine confronted with a philosophical  spanking writer’s dilemma that has always fascinated me … whether she should take her punishment immediately or should she postpone the inevitable and enjoy a few more hours of cool-arse syndrome?

My apologies for the delay between posts, as some of you know I contracted an unfortunate health problem over Christmas and to quote a highly qualified and respected medical practitioner it kicked the crap out of me … nonetheless I am on the mend and am actually completing Volume 38 of the Woody Back to School Unit saga as we speak! I will also be commissioning Our Man in Phuket, the legendary artist and my great collaborator, Dave Ell to put down his drink and get his lazy arse out of his hammock and get back to work on the next Woody Toon (in fairness I haven’t actually sent him the brief yet but I will … So be on notice Lodgy you’re going back to work!)

As usual I have posted the full up to date pdf version of the ongoing Rosemary book in Library II as a Work in Progress … and of course it’s FREE, everything at Woodys is ABSOLUTELY FREE and ORIGINAL!!! … For those of you who have read the earlier chapters I hope you will enjoy catching up with Miss Brooks exploits, observations and trials and for visitors unfamiliar with the earlier chapters just click on the link in the library and kick-back and enjoy … My sincere gratitude to everybody who has continued to visit and the many friends who have wished me well … Bottoms Up! … RH

Chapter 15 – A Perfect Weal

The problem is that I have become addicted to chatting on-line with the Silver Fox when I am supposed to be cracking the books. Being in the sixth phase of my social rehabilitation I am extended the small comfort of a semi-private study. Since Mr Humphries took over as the Grand Master of the joint we have been granted almost permanent and unsupervised access to the net. I am not making excuses but it is considerably more fun yakking with the Foxy one than slogging through some of the drier assignments that we are set.

So far I have managed to maintain an overall ‘C’ grade but I rather fancy that this might all reach a head when I report to the music room in a few minutes.
Jojo, Nixdown and Debs reappear on the landing. Nix has a grin on her face like the cat who got the cream. I suspect that she has been successful in squeezing every juicy detail out of Jojo and Debs about their recent swishing’s. Strange gal, our Nixxy.

Deborah comes into the study to collect her books. She grins at me cheerily so I assume that she has forgiven me for having caused her to have to put it up and keep it up for six on the silks last evening.

She buckles up her satchel. “Come on slowcoach, we need to cut along,” she tells me.

I pick up my own satchel rather unenthusiastically and sling it over my shoulder and we step out onto the landing.

Deborah slips her arm into mine and chatters on incessantly about her training regime and diet as we cut across the cloisters. I listen distractedly but that is okay, when Debs is on a roll like this she’s not really looking for any interruptions.

I can’t help noticing that my tummy does an unpleasant flip-flop as we approach the music room.

Ms Scott begins the session by handing back the plastic-covered binders containing our assignments on the life and influence of Mozart. At least she hands most of them back and is extremely complimentary and enthusiastic about the quality of the work and research. I watch miserably as she wanders about handing out the binders along with her plaudits and accolades. She has passed in front of my desk twice and not even looked at me. I take this as an ominous sign.

Finally having handed out everybody else’s assignments she returns to the front of the room. One binder remains on the front desk.

“I cannot tell you how disappointed I am Miss Booker,” she begins. “You have had ten days to work on this assignment,” she points at the binder, “yet your submission is so abysmal that I have serious doubts that you have spent more than twenty minutes compiling it. The content is so thin that I find myself unable to even grade it.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry Miss Booker but you leave me no choice but to ask you to remove your blazer and step up so that I can beat you for slacking.”

I feel my face turn bright red. This was considerably worse than I thought. I had fully expected a poor grade and had steeled myself for a scolding but I had not prepared myself for the prospect of being beaten. I feel my mouth drop open and I gape at Ms Scott.

Miss Suzy Scott is a relatively new addition to the Brass. She was drafted in by the Grand Master to replace the wicked Wacky Whackster who, thankfully, is currently cooling her heels in chokey. She is actually younger than I am and as far as I can tell from our conversations she seems a more likely candidate to be an inmate than a member of staff. It has to be said that her qualifications for lecturing in music seem rather lacking. In fact, by her own admission, her musical history is limited to a brief period as the lead singer of a notably unsuccessful punk rock band. However despite her lack of knowledge regarding quavers and crotchets she is an absolute dote and we love her to death. Unfortunately she does have a particular skill that probably explains how she made it through the interview.

Suzy was first called upon to demonstrate this skill on the day of her arrival at the unit. For complicated reasons my great chum Debs felt obliged to be the first to test out the newcomers mettle. Now in Deborah’s defense Suzy Scott stands four feet ten inches tall and looks like she may weigh eighty pounds with two house bricks stuffed in her pockets. Debs had confidently predicted that Miss Suzy would not be able to whop her way out of a wet pair of bumbags. Unfortunately for Deborah she was head down, arse up across a piano stool with her skirt folded back when Miss Suzy removed her own jacket to reveal the astonishingly honed physique of a serious martial arts performer.

Over the years I have witnessed many impressive beatings and Miss Suzy’s cool and confident debut ranks amongst the best. An hour later when I put Deborah over my knee and peeled down her bumbags we were shocked and awed by what was revealed. Although Deborah had been given six of the very, very best the formation of the thrashing was so tight that it appeared that every stroke had landed exactly on top of the last. Debs poor beleugured bum was sporting what the Woody Wags now call the perfect weal. Miss Suzy Scott had become an instant Woody legend.

Chapter 16 – A Dilemma

Momentarily I feel as if my skirt and bumbags have been welded to my chair. I continue to gape at Ms Scott as I process the invitation to step up. As I say Suzy has only been at the unit a short time and has only whopped a handful of gals. I have witnessed two of these beatings and as they both involved Deborah I was given a second opportunity to inspect Suzy’s sensational handiwork. Debs who is not much given to flattery in these matters marked Suzy at nine point five for all aspects of artistic quality and technical content, and added an additional quarter point for the heat factor. These are sensational statistics and have been confirmed and validated by such Woody luminaries as Claire Brooks, Melons, and Cassie Cassy. Even the Bounder, who rarely deigns to comment on such mundane matters, agreed to make a comment on Debs blog and described her punishment by Ms Scott as one of the hottest whopping’s that she had ever experienced inside a lecture room.

I slide my chair back and unfasten the top button of my blazer. My tummy is doing back-flips. I am about to be inducted into a very select club and am not in the least bit enthused at the prospect.

As I peel off my blazer and turn to hang it across the back of my chair I see Debs waving her hand in the air.

“What is it Morton?” asks Suzy.

“With all due respect Ma’am,” says Deborah politely, “I am not sure if you are aware but Rosemary got six on the silks last night from Miss Brooks and she was slippered this morning by Miss Beck. Would it be unreasonable to ask you to allow her to file for a deferral?”

Suzy looks across at me. “Is what Miss Morton says correct?” she asks.

“Unfortunately it is Ma’am,” I acknowledge ruefully, my face getting redder by the instant. “I’ve been having a run of rum luck.”

Suzy looks thoughtful. “Now personally I having nothing against you applying for deferral Miss Booker but I can foresee some complications,” she says. “It is hardly unusual for inmates to be caned twice on the same day so it would be hard to base the application on cruel or excessive punishment. On the other hand if you wish to include last nights unfortunate incident into the equation and argue that this would be your third punishment within a twenty-four hour period then I would of course be obliged to send you upstairs to make arrangements for a mandatory public flogging. I assume that would not be a preferred option?”

Holy Buddha, this is getting worse by the second. Unappealing as bending over a piano stool and having my bumbags cut to tatters might be, the prospect of bending over a vaulting horse and being flogged in front of the assembled unit makes me feel vaguely bilious. I have been there and bought the tee shirt on three previous occasions and Suzy is right. A public flogging is not a preferred option; in fact quite frankly it is not an option at all. I finish hanging up my blazer and step out from behind the desk.

“What about a temporary postponement instead of a formal deferral?” blurts out Debs. “Why does she have to be beaten now? She’s been in seven hours of cool down since she was slippered by Miss Beck so she’s well into recovery. What harm’s a couple of hours? Why can’t you book her in for a four o’clock bender or a six o’clock swishing, she’ll be ready then. Won’t you Rosie?”

I refocus my gaping at Deborah. I am quite aware that my best chum could effortlessly qualify for membership of Mensa, nonetheless after knowing her for the past six years I have concluded that she also has quite a few bats loose in her belfry. I can assure you I will not be ‘ready’ as she so off-handedly describes it to have my bum beaten with a violin bow now, at four o’clock, six o’clock or any other o’clock.

“Miss Booker, any observations?” asks Ms Scott. “I’m sure that we could accommodate an extension to your cool down period as long as we get it dealt with and posted on the record before lockdown and close of business tonight. Any preferences?”

Oh good grief! This is ridiculous and the worst dilemma a gal could ever be faced with. Of course my first instinct is that delay is good, delay is preferable, any small interval that delays a violin bow from starting to crack down on my bumbags is desirable. Or is it?

By nature I am a fretter. I fret over everything and could fret for the Universe. The unfortunate reality is that I am destined to be beaten bandy and that by delaying the inevitable is merely subjected myself to extended period of fretting. I am unable to conjure up a single good word to say about being required to stick my bum up higher than my head for no better reason than to allow it to be drubbed with canes, straps, slippers or sundry other instruments of torture. Nonetheless there is something to be said about the immediate short sharp shock approach. Painful and unpleasant as it may be at least it’s over with. One of my least favorite aspects of corporal punishment is what the Woody Wags call ‘Waiting to be Caned’. For a major league fretter like myself the wait can sometimes seem worse than the punishment itself.

Once upon a time, many years ago, well two years ago actually; I was dispatched to Ms Lawton’s office to make arrangements to be publicly flogged. It was in the latter part of the evening and Ms Lawton decided that there was not enough time left to complete the preliminary activities such as the over-the-knee Warmer Session, being fitted for whopping bags, and all the other ancillary activities that accompany a flogging without disrupting lockdown. She instructed me that I would be flogged during the following morning assembly thereby sentencing me to a sleepless night of tossing, turning and fretting. It was my longest night.

I turn back and look bleakly at Suzy. On the one hand delay is desirable, on the other it is my worst enemy and nightmare.

Rats! Decisions, decisions, decisions! … To Be Continued

Five Red Bums Award for DJB

Our belated thanks to Damian Black for featuring our site as ’Blog of the Week’ over at the respected ’Voice in the Corner’ web-space. Blogmaestro DJB is an award winning spanking writer so his very kind observations were particularly well received … so without further ado we are pleased to award Damian the prestigious ‘Five Red Bums Award’ for contributions to the spanking community … Great Job DJ and thanks for the shout-out … Bottoms Up! … RH