Happy Holidays from Rosemary, Nixdown and Debs

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

 

 

 

The Famous Four – The Deborah Morton Story

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Debs Morton is scheduled to compete at Wimbledon shortly after her release. She is currently unseeded and considered a rank outsider but you can never tell with the mercurial Miss Morton … Bottoms Up! … RH

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

The Famous Four – The Rosemary Booker Story

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tomorrow I will complete this series of features on the Famous Four with the life and times of Miss Deborah Morton … until then … Bottoms Up! … RH

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

The Famous Four – The Nixdown Story

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drop back tomorrow to learn more about the life and times of Miss Rosemary Booker … its Sunday … mimosa’s for breakfast … kick-back and have a little rummage around the site, there’s lots to see and read … Bottoms Up! … RH

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

The Famous Four – The Jojo Story

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Woodys Five Red Bums Award for Mr Chross

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

 

Free Woody Story Available in PDF Format

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

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 10

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

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

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The End

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

Dazzling New Woody Toon 26 – The Fountain of Spanks

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 9

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

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 9

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

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

“You okay?” I ask. “How was it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued …

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

Fabulous New Woody Toon 25 – Team Morton

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

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

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

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

 

  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whadya doing?” wailed Debs.

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

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

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

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

“Bottoms up, sis,” she grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes Ma’am,” muttered Debs.

“Go Rosie,” breathed Nix.

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

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

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

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

“Oh good grief,” groaned Debs.

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

Too Big for her Bumbags?

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

The Crack of the Cane

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

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

 

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 8

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

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

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 8

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued …

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

Fabulous New Woody Toon 24 – A New Red-shirt

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 7

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

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

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued …

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

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

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

I’ve also added the latest installment of ‘A Life in the Day of Debs Morton’ (Parts 1-5 are posted in the ‘Seven Days of Woodys’ sidebar … so kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

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

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 6

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued …

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

Jojo and RH … Back from Vacation

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

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

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 5

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

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued …

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

Stunning New Woody Toon 22 – Thrashed into the Elite

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

Brand Spanking New Woody Toon 21 – Katie’s Comeuppance

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My thoughts exactly,” I grunt.

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

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

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

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

To be continued …

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

Original Woody Toon – The Rosemary Collection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scorching New Woody Toon 20 … Bend Over Booker

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

Sensational New Woody Toon 19 … Spanked in the Kitchen

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

A Life in the Day of Debs Morton – Part 2

The Morning Lectures

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Running Bender

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stunning New Woody Toon 18 – A Public Flogging for Jojo

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More about the lecture rooms tomorrow.

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

Brand New Woody Toon 17 – Three Red Cards for Jojo

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

Congratulations to Bonnie and My Bottom Smarts

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

A Little Titillation from the Upcoming’s New Toons

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aero dynamics huh?” asked the Grand Master.

“Yes sir,” confirmed Jojo.

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

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

“Oh good grief,” she muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh great,” grumbled Jojo.

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

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

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

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

“Pardon me?” gasped Jojo.

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

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

The Grand Master smiled and crossed to the drinks cabinet.

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

“Come in,” boomed the Grand Master.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cathryn negotiated hard on behalf of the Old Gals.

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

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

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

“Bottom’s up,” she grinned.

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

Cathryn winked and lit a cigarette.

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

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

“So spank me,” giggled Cat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mr Humphries smiled indulgently.

Politely Joanna stood up and made ready to leave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another Woody Special – The Nixdown Collection

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

 

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

Another Scorcher – Woody Toon 15 – Nixdown and the Dyke

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

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

 

 

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

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

Another Toon Teaser – Introducing Miss Katie Beck

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

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

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

A Toon Teaser – Introducing the Dyke

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

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

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

The Five Red Bums Award

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

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

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

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

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

Another Woody Toon Special – The Jojo Collection

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

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

 

 

 

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

A Woody Toon Special – The Debs Collection

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

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

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

 

 

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

D is for ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not guilty,” she answered without hesitation.

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

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

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

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

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

Double Max

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

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

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

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

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

Deborah resisted the impulse to grin.

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

Deborah tried not to flinch.

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

Debs couldn’t help but grimace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

D is for Deplorable

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

D is for Debs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

D is for Disgrace

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scorching Hot New Spanking Toon 14 – The Morton Special

Yesterday’s popular toon featured Nixdown indulging her penchant for pain. In stark contrast poor old Debs Morton is definitely not having much fun while she is bent over a piano stool in today’s rendition.

Many years ago I idly tapped out the sentence … ‘On Monday morning Ms Whitton bent Deborah Morton over a piano stool and beat her with a violin bow’. The origination of this phrase can be found in my earlier post ‘Bent over the piano stool and beaten with a violin bow’.

For some reason the phrase tickled me and over the years I returned to the theme on several occasions as can be seen in …. ‘The Fabulous Fart and Bacon Slicers’ and … ‘Caned by the KGB’ and … ‘Piano Stools Make Great Spanking Furniture’ … lol … you could call it an obsession.

The ‘Morton Special’ of the title refers to a customized violin bow commissioned by the deranged Music Dame, Ms Whitton, for the sole purpose of beating the bejaysus out of the bumbags of the unfortunate Debs.

For those of you interested in such trivia (and I must confess to being rather partial to spanking trivia myself) Ms Whitton commissioned this violin bow from an artisan in Southern Brazil who specialized in the rare art of crafting bows from Pernambuco wood. The bow-master had taken the original design of Francois Tourte’s seventy five centimeter bow and had perfected the balance of colophoany, oils and plasiticizeds to make bows of exceptional beauty. When she had commissioned the bow the Music Dame had requested an unusual stiffness, explaining that it would only be used for decorative purposes. For over a thousand quid the bow-maker would have made her a cricket bat out of the rare wood if she’d asked.

Ms Whitton had the craftsman engrave the words ‘The Morton Special’ along the shaft of the bow. It would be used exclusively on the backside of Debs Morton.

Just a word of warning! – The extract is a work of fiction … During our extensive experiments My Beloved Jojo and I acquired a violin bow for research purposes. I can assure you that despite having a certain poetic lyricism and looking good in a cartoon this is NOT and I repeat NOT an instrument that should be used for safe and consensual spanking (actually come to think of it … shouldn’t be used at all!) … I’m serious folks … Spank Safe!

On the other hand the piano stool Debs is bent over is an ideal venue for delivering a caning. It is really a duet bench rather than a stool. It was twelve inches high at the leg, with four inches of hollow storage covered by a two inch cushioned seat. The seat is exactly twelve inches in breadth. The Woody Wags often laugh that Heinrich Engelhard Steinweg and his carpenters must have tested their daughters out bent over the benches as they appeared to have designed one of the perfect venues for whops. I strongly advise any reputable spanko to go on the net and acquire one and to hell with the recession.

Just one last snippet of trivia for the Woody buffs … I think Dave Ell really did a great job of capturing the deranged Music Dame and for anybody who cares the music that she most likes to whop to are rare recordings such as the Cante Flamenco recordings of Camaron del la Isla … I’m not kidding … go and download a few and play them while you’re studying the toon below … you’ll get the atmosphere … believe you me … music to whop to.

Ok before you send for the men in white coats … here’s the fabulous new toon … if you click on the version in the sidebar and zoom in you can really appreciate the detail that Dave puts into the illustrations … obviously I need wine … so I feel obliged to retire to the cellar … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

 

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

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

Scalding Hot New Woody Toon 13 – Dangled in the Dungeon

No! Woodys has not built a dungeon … so today’s brand spanking new toon features Nixdown and Penny Ann indulging in some off-campus hanky-spanky.

During a furlough from the unit Nix and Penelope Ann Evans avail of Lady Victoria Brompton’s hospitality and pay a visit to the family ancestral pile, Brompton Castle. As I have previously reported the Nixdown character in these yarns is based upon a wonderfully degenerate spankette of my acquaintance.

Nixdown was interesting as she was one of the few spankettes I know of who does not subscribe to the Rasmussen Principle. Dagmar Rasmussen is a well-known Danish masochist who says that she enjoys the build up and the aftermath but that it’s a shame about the few minutes in the middle. Nix on the other hand was always adamant that under the right circumstances and with the right partners she actually enjoyed the physical pain. Hence the story-line.

Once again my appreciation and compliments to Dave Ell for his latest interpretation of my briefing. A companion story can be found at ‘Nixdown Nixon Dangled in the Castle Dungeons’.

Another original toon is scheduled for tomorrow so be sure to check back … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

 

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

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

More Woody Toons Coming and an Open Invitation to Our Guests

Here’s a teaser from Woody Toon 14, scheduled to be posted this weekend so mark your calendars to enjoy more Woody misadventures.

I try to select extracts from the Woody Back to School books that I think will give our visitors a broad overview of the scale of the saga and that will help them become familiar with the cast of characters. I really do think that the cartoons help, particularly in showing the camaraderie of the sagas central characters … ‘The Famous Four’.

However, despite the success of Love our Lurkers day I still get very little feedback on which stories you have enjoyed, which characters you love/hate, or any ideas or improvements that you would like to see … RH doesn’t bite so leave a comment or drop me an email at Woodettes@gmail.com and I’d be happy to hear from y’all.

The new toon’s are scheduled to be posted on Friday and Saturday so until then just feel free to just hatch about the site and have a good rummage … enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

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

The Sacking of Spanker Spage

Great news … we have two brand new Woody Toon’s ready for posting at the weekend (Here’s a teaser from Woody Toon 13) … in the meantime here is the concluding episode of the Spanker Spage saga.

In yesterdays installment we saw the odious bully Spanker Spage caught red-handed delivering an illegal bare bottom spanking to the unfortunate Little Brat, Jennifer Gardiner. As a result Spanker is booted out of the Elite and subjected to a public flogging. To add to her woes she is sentenced to act as Cathryn Cassidy’s personal grubby.

Cat Cassidy is the author of the Manifesto of Mega-minxdom and the spiritual leader of the cult of mega-minxes. She is a sworn enemy of the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers and is delighted at the opportunity to give Spanker a taste of her own medicine.

This new extract comes from ‘Volume 3 – A Year of Sitting Painfully’, which is available for purchase over at the Woodettes Publications Page … so kick back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH

Spanker Spage was not amused; in fact she was blubbing like a muff. She was standing before the Grand Dame with her head bowed and tears running freely down her cheeks.

“You are our first failure, Spage,” Ms Lawton was telling her. “Over the past ten years I have been responsible for rehabilitating the worst examples of Ladette culture and our program has been an unmitigated success. However, it must be expected that there will always be one rotten apple in every barrel and you Spage are rotten to the core.”

Juliet Spage’s shoulders pulsated as she sobbed. “It wasn’t my fault,” she spluttered. “They made me do it.”

“Oh put a sock in it Spage,” snapped Ms Lawton. “You attempted to mace Cassidy and now you’re trying to blame others? You are completely beyond redemption Spage.”

Cathryn Cassidy took off her blazer and rolled up her sleeves. She loosened her tie and spat on her hands. “Come here Spage,” she said, sitting down on an armless chair.

Spanker Spage glared at her Personal Draper hatefully. The past six months had been a nightmare for the former member of the SS. Ever since Juliet had been kicked out of the Elite, and reduced to the role of a grubby, life had been tough. Every waking hour that Spanker was not attending lectures or in the study hall Cathryn kept her busy.

The other grubby’s had benefited greatly from Juliet’s reduced circumstances. When Cathryn ran out of errands for Juliet to run she loaned her out to other members of the Elite. Melons, Penny Ann and the Butcher Twins were more than happy to have Juliet relieve their own personal grubbys from duty as they put Spanker to work.

Spanker’s former cohorts from the SS had not proven to be a loyal bunch. They regularly mocked her when they came across her on the Elite landing. Yvonne Godfrey had even taken the opportunity to red card Juliet out of the assembly hall on two occasions causing her to receive twelve stroke bare benders from the Grand Dame.

Her former handler, Katie Beck, monitored Juliet’s laundry vigilantly and slippered her on marginal charges of clobber abuse.

The Wart targeted her ruthlessly during tutorials and alternated between beating her locally and red-carding her up to Ms Lawton’s office.

It was a miserable time for the once powerful Brat Draper and the worst of it was she had to contend with her most hated enemy, Cathryn Cassidy.

Cat had always been the most strident opponent of the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers. Yvonne and her cronies had made it a policy to give Cat a wide berth whenever possible and wisely Spanker had never included Cat’s personal grubby in her serial spanking activities.

To be subjected to the ignominy of being forced to act as Cathryn Cassidy’s personal grubby was almost too much for Juliet to bear.

Juliet Spage was quite surprised when Yvonne Godfrey sidled up and started making all nice to her. The Commandant of the SS started by inviting her former aide down to one of her stash areas and plying her with booze and cigarettes. Yvonne made sympathetic noises about Juliet’s plight, even apologizing for red-carding her.

“It was all for the cause,” she explained. “Ms Lawton has us under ob’s and I needed to show her we weren’t cutting you any slack.”

Juliet grunted. She had known Yvonne a long time and knew only too well that she didn’t have a sympathetic bone in her body.

“You want something, don’t you?” she demanded.

Yvonne shrugged. “I need a favor,” she admitted. “That bitch Cassidy got me a whopping and she’s gonna pay for it! You’d love to see Cassidy get her comeuppance, now wouldn’t you my dear Spanker.”

Spanker Spage looked suspicious. “What do you want me to do?”

Yvonne reached into her pocket and extracted a small canister. “This is mace,” she told her former chum. “I want you to pitch up late for grubbing duties. Cassidy will be obliged to drape you. Just act normal and then when you’re in close spray this in her eyes. I’ll be waiting on the landing with Ivan. When she goes down we’ll come in and throw a sack over her head and wrap her up with duct tape. We’ll shove her in the closet for a few hours and then after lock-down we’ll sneak her over to the stables and thrash the shit out of her.”

“Oh good grief,” was all Spanker could think of to say.

Yvonne’s assessment that Cathryn had been responsible for the disagreeable twelve stroke whopping she had received from Patty Hodge was not entirely accurate.

As usual Yvonne had been acting the bollocks. She had been swaggering around the recreation area with her pack of cohorts looking for opportunities to score some cheap whops.

Cathryn Cassidy was the day’s nominated duty monitor and was positioned on the landing of the ornate stairway that led to the Main House. It gave her a perfect vantage point to observe all the areas of the recreation ground including the cloisters and the quadrangle. It was a warm day and most of the inmates were taking advantage of the good weather to get some fresh air. They were congregated in small pockets playing a variety of card games or backgammon or just plain kicking back and gabbing.

Cathryn spotted Yvonne and her chums swanking about the place. She sighed and made her way down the stairwell.

“What are you up to Godders?” she asked when she caught up with the SS. “I don’t need any assistance and especially not from you.”

“Oh put your fucking bumbags in it Cassidy,” replied Yvonne. “We’re just taking a stroll. We’ve got just as much right to the rec area as anybody else.”

“Well don’t start acting the bollocks on my watch,” said Cat threateningly, “I’ll be watching you.”

Yvonne just sneered. Cat returned to her look-out post, keeping a careful eye on the members of the SS.

Cat yawned and looked at her watch. She dearly wished that she could take a nap. The previous evening after the facility had been put under lock-down she had shimmied down a drainpipe and sneaked across the grounds. She had climbed over the wall of the orchard and into the arms of her boyfriend Mark who was waiting in his car.

Cat and Mark had met in a coffee shop in the nearby town and had been going hot and heavy ever since. Cat regularly broke out of the unit at night so that she could spend some quality time with her beau.

Her late night trysts had gone undiscovered but her relationship had nonetheless not been altogether beneficial to her bumbags. On several occasions she had missed curfews and been caned by the Duty Dames. On the third occasion Patty had insisted that she was paraded in front of the Beak and Ms Lawton had given her a severe scolding and a twelve-stroke bare bender. It had little effect and several weeks later when she cut curfew again Cathryn Cassidy became the first prefect in Woody history to be publicly flogged.

Cathryn continued to yawn. She hated being duty monitor. It was such a drag. She always did her best to cut the inmates as much slack as possible but during free-time, away from the strict discipline of the lecture rooms and study groups, they were always at their most rambunctious. It was a rare day that the duty monitor wasn’t obliged to take at least one inmate up to the library for a thrashing.

Cat watched Yvonne sauntering about, she and her cronies stopped several times at groups of inmates. Cathryn had little doubt that they were making snide comments and underlying threats but at least they moved on.

Cat looked at her watch again. Six-twenty. In the distance, several stragglers were ambling along the driveway, back from excursions into town, just in time for Callover. Below in the recreation areas the inmates were packing up their belongings and preparing to go back to the main building. Cat Cassidy wandered down the steps. It wouldn’t be long now, she figured, before she could cut along to her study and enjoy a much-needed power-nap.

Cathryn crossed the recreation area and followed the inmates into the building. They were making their way up the stairwells towards the landings so that they could put their kit away. She headed towards the assembly hall to help Penelope Ann oversee Callover.

“What the fuck are you doing?” growled Cathryn.

She had turned into a corridor and encountered Yvonne backing Rosemary up against a wall.

“She’s been smoking,” said Yvonne, “I can smell it on her breath. I’m searching her.”

Cathryn narrowed her eyes. “Did you find anything?”

Yvonne cut her eyes at Cat. “Mind your own business, Cassidy, I haven’t finished,” she snarled. “Raise your skirt,” she instructed Rosemary.

Rosemary Booker took the hem of her skirt and raised it. Yvonne reached over and ran her fingers around the waistband of Rosemary’s bumbags working front to back.

She reddened slightly when she came up empty. “I can still smell it on her breath,” she said defiantly.

“Yeah rock on, Godders,” said Cathryn Cassidy. “Come here Rosemary; let’s see if you pass a sniff test.”

Patty Hodge’s olfactory senses were legendary and she claimed that she could smell fag-breath at twenty paces. Patty was a smoking hypocrite. For thirty years she had been an on-again, off-again smoker and alternated between being an anti-fag zealot and defending her three-pack a day habit. She hadn’t smoked a cigarette for almost a week.

“Breathe out,” she instructed Rosemary.

“Bend over the desk you fucking imbecile,” Patty screeched into Yvonne’s face. “What were you thinking?”

“She’s on your fucking hit-list,” Yvonne screamed back. “You’re not whopping me for this!”

Patty stared at Yvonne. “You can bet your bottom dollar I’m whopping you for this. It’s reckless behavior like this that gets the SS a bad name. You’re lucky I don’t bring you up in front of an SS hearing and have you stripped of your rank as Commandant. Now bend over the desk before I summons Ivan to hold you down.”

“You are a truly rotten bitch, Patty,” said Yvonne through gritted teeth and then slowly she peeled off her blazer.

The macing had not gone well. As she had approached Cathryn Juliet had reached into her blazer pocket intending to palm the small canister. As sleight of hand went it had been particularly guileless and Cat had caught on fast. She leapt out of the seat and slapped Juliet’s hand aside, at the same time she stamped her right foot down on top of Juliet’s causing Spanker to roar out and take a tumble.

“What the fuck is this?” asked Cat, retrieving the canister from the floor. “Mace? You were going to fucking mace me? Oh you pathetic bitch,” she growled and toed Spanker in the ribs with the sharp point of her shoe. “Get up you little weasel, I rather fancy you won’t be sitting down again this week.”

“She tried to mace you,” said Penelope Ann insistently. “We need to report this.”

“I’ve taken care of her,” said Cat stubbornly.

“Taken care of it?” asked Patsy Butcher incredulously. “You’ve spanked her. What’s to stop her sneaking in and zapping you with chloroform while you’re sleeping?”

“She’s clearly deranged, Cat,” agreed Lindsey Butcher. “We need to deal with this.”

Even Melanie White nodded her consensus. “I’ve known you a long time Cat and I know you think you can take care of everything but this is just too far out where the buses don’t run. We don’t have any choice; we’ll have to involve the Beak in this one.”

“Hmmm,” grumbled Cathryn noncommittally.

“I could flog you and flunk you,” Ms Lawton told Spanker Spage. “Send you before a hearing of the System and put you back a few years to see whether we can’t beat some goodwill into you, but I think not. I’m going to sack you Spage and hand you over to the constabulary. You will be charged with attempted assault and possession of a prohibited substance. I rather think that you’re going to chokey Miss Spage and I for one hope that they throw away the key.”

“Naaaaawwwwwww!!!!” wailed Spanker Spage.

“You really didn’t have any choice,” said Mr Humphries over dinner.

“It’s a shame though,” sighed Susan Lawton. “Ten years without a single sacking and now with just ten days to go this happens.”

Mr Humphries smiled, “Well in ten days you’ll start your new life,” he told her cheerily, “and then it will become my problem.”

“Ten days is a long time at the Woody Back to School unit,” Susan sighed wearily.

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

A Flogging for Spanker Spage

It seems like many of our visitors have a strong sense of justice and yesterdays account of the heinous bullies from the Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers getting their comeuppance proved very popular.

In the first of a two-part companion piece from Volume 3 – A Year of Sitting Painfully another one of the heinous goons from the SS, Juliet Spage, better known as ‘Spanker’ around the unit, is caught giving an illegal bare bottom slippering to an unfortunate Little Brat.

It’s cold, wet and miserable in Houston so My Beloved Jojo is cooking me some good old English comfort food and I’m gonna kick back and pour myself a glass of red … so enjoy the yarn and check back tomorrow for part-two … Bottoms Up! … RH

Jennifer Gardiner was draped face downwards across Spanker Spage’s lap with her skirt turned back and her bumbags concertinaed around her ankles. Spanker was applying the leather sole of one of Katie’s slippers to Jennifer’s backside with extreme vigor.

“What the dickens?” asked Ms Lummell in amazement. “What the devil do you think you’re up to Spage? Release her immediately!”

Juliet Spage stared aghast at the Riding Dame. This was not supposed to have happened. She had carefully planned the slippering to coincide with a staff meeting scheduled by Ms Lawton and a riding party to be out on the Downs. The stables were supposed to empty. She gaped at Ms Lummell.

“I said release her!” snapped the Dame tartly.

Slowly Juliet turned down Jennifer’s skirt and helped her to her feet. Jen crouched down and retrieved her bumbags and slipped them back into place. She threw a hostile glance at Spanker.

Jane Lummell wasted no time; she barreled down on Spanker and yanked her to her feet. She span the prefect around and took a tight grip on the scruff of her neck.

“Come with me!” she said authoritatively.

Juliet could do nothing but splutter and comply as she was hustled out of the stables under a full collar.

The quadrangle and recreation areas were bustling with activity but everybody stopped as the inmates witnessed the unusual sight of a member of the Elite being subjected to a collaring.

Juliet was an immensely unpopular member of the community and was one of the most active practitioners of the fine art of collaring. There was little sympathy for her plight.

“This is Elite business, Jane,” said Patty Hodge smoothly. “I’ll take care of Miss Spage myself.”

“I brought her here first out of courtesy,” said Jane Lummell firmly. “She’s going up before the Beak. Even Brats have rights, whether you like it or not. I’m giving you the opportunity to accompany us, Patricia, but I really couldn’t care less one way or the other.”

Patty scowled. “There is no need to be hasty, I’m sure that there is a perfectly good explanation, why don’t we let Miss Spage give us her version of events?”

Jane Lummell shook her head. “She’s coming with me,” she said spinning Juliet around and shoving her towards the door. “Are you coming, Patricia?”

Jane Lummell was a good old-fashioned jolly hockey sticks kind of cove. She served in the dual role of Dame in Charge of Physical Education and Riding. She fulfilled both roles with enthusiasm and dedication and was well-liked by the inmates. She generously gave up considerable amounts of her free-time with Deborah Morton and Rachel Cox to keep them in shape to eventually resume their tennis careers. She also helped numerous other celebrity athletes that had fallen foul of the Systems anti-Ladetting laws.

Jane was a fully paid up member of the Liberal Left of the Brass and was tight with Dotty Hammell, Stephanie Powell and Pauline Gascoigne. She was considered generally minx-friendly, nonetheless she was a strict disciplinarian and was lethal with both her over-sized rubber-soled plimsoll and her braided riding crop. She was considered reliable by the inmates and when she instructed them to bend over for whops there was rarely much doubt that they were well-deserved.

Patty did her best to intercede, claiming that protocols had been broken and that she had the first right of interview. It was not that she cared two figs about the fate of Spanker Spage; she just didn’t want the Grand Dame poking around in Radical Right business.

Ms Lawton fixed Patty with a withering glare. “This is bullying business, Patricia,” she said sharply, “and that is my business.”

Patty just shrugged. “You’re quite right, Susan,” she said unctuously and turned on Juliet. “Well Spage, aren’t you going to explain yourself?” she snapped spitefully. “The cat got your tongue?”

Dolefully, Spanker Spage stared down at the floor.

At first the prefect had claimed that the slippering was an isolated incident and she apologized profusely, even agreeing that a flogging was appropriate. However, further probing soon exposed the scale of the brutality she had inflicted upon the helpless Little Brats.

“Hand over your tie, blazer, badges and your ashplant,” the Grand Dame informed Juliet Spage in front of the assembled inmates. “You are formally stood down from the Elite.”

Juliet hung her head in shame. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she shrugged off her blazer and handed it Penelope Ann Evans. She loosened her tie and unknotted it and handed that over too.

“My ashplant’s in my study,” she muttered.

“It will no longer be your study, Spage,” Ms Lawton informed her coldly. “For the remainder of your sentence you will reside in the Brat Dorm and be returned to the Brat program. You will wear full clobber and I shall arrange for you to be scheduled in for grubbing duties. Although you will continue your educational curriculum as normal, to all extents and purposes you are now a Little Brat.”

Juliet continued to sob.

Ms Lawton looked over her classes. “You are in the final year of your Social Rehabilitation Program and you now have only six months left to prove to me that you have reformed. I shall be watching you carefully and I’m putting you on notice that if I see any signs of repetition of your bullying tendencies I will formally flunk you and send you before a Special Disciplinary hearing of the System. Now bend over the horse. I intend to flog you soundly.”

The poor beleaguered Little Brats watched with satisfaction as Spanker Spage folded her frame over the vaulting horse. She had not gone quietly, she had wept and pleaded that she was not responsible. She blamed Patty and Katie and Yvonne for instructing her to perform the illicit slipperings. Ms Lawton curtly cut her short and instructed her to bend over the horse.

“I will have you held down if necessary,” she promised Spanker.

Spanker made a muff of herself. She squealed and screamed and kicked up such a brouhaha that the watching inmates had to hide their mouths with their hands to keep from giggling.

There was no question that public floggings were tough duty. Being folded in half across a vaulting horse with the full compliment of the inmates and Brass staring at her upturned arse was no fun for a gal. Nonetheless, ever since April Turner had taken the first ever public flogging in stoic silence the Woody gals had prided themselves in the manner with which they conducted themselves when obliged to grace the stage.

The manner with which Juliet Spage was conducting herself was beginning to give her the pip.

“Good grief, Spage,” she barked. “Cease those ridiculous noises or I’ll really give you something to howl about.”

The inmates chuckled at that.

Spanker Spage was making a muff of herself. She was dancing an idiot gig and rubbing her backside frantically.

“Stand still, you foolish gal,” snapped Ms Lawton, “I have never seen such a pathetic performance. Now stand still this instant before I cane you again.”

Juliet Spage looked haggard and bereft of dignity, standing on the stage with her white tieless blouse buttoned to the throat and white whopping bags. The small amount of make-up she was allowed to wear was smudged and her hair looked lank and unkempt. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her nose was dripping.

Patty Hodge gaped at the Grand Dame. She gnashed her teeth and wrung her hands in consternation. Ms Lawton had just announced that Cathryn Cassidy would replace Juliet in the role of Senior Brat Draper. To Patty it was an unforgivable act of betrayal by Ms Lawton. She had made the decision unilaterally without consultation with her deputy. Patty hurried from the stage and headed for the saloon bar of the Bunch of Grapes.

Katie gaped at Ms Lawton. “She’s telling you a pack of porkies,” she insisted. “I most certainly did not lend her one of my slippers; she must have snuck into my office and stolen it.”

Ms Lawton rolled her eyes. She had little doubt that her adopted daughter was being economical with the truth but she had no hard evidence that Katie had acted as Spanker’s sponsor.

“Be careful, Katie,” she told her ward. “I’m watching you.”

… To be continued …

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