Category Archives: Free Spanking Stories
After nearly six months of being diverted by other projects and everyday life events I am pleased to announce that the Woody Gals are finally back in a brand new full-length yarn Volume 42 – The Final Flogging … As usual it features the latest adventures and misadventures of Debs Morton, Jojo Heyworth and the rest of the Woody Gang … Thrills, spills and the sounds of canes, straps and slippers rebounding off tautened navy blue gossamer bumbags abound … And you know what? … It’s ABSOLUTELY FREE just like everything else at the Woody Back to School Unit and what is even better we keep the whole site ABSOLUTELY COMMERCIAL FREE as well.
The new volume is also available for download in Library 1 from the main menu above and my personal favorite way for mobile viewing is on my iPad … just touch the pdf file anywhere towards the top of the screen and when the menu appears touch the icon in the top far right corner and it will ask you what browser you would like to open in (iBooks, kindle, nook etc).
Finally I would like to thank many old friends who have kept in touch and encouraged me to continue the saga … It has always been my intention to continue to write and publish new stories about the antics of the huge cast of characters that I have created over the years and I am actively in the process of writing Volume 43 of the saga so hopefully it will not be another six months before you hear from me again … However a few months ago I made a conscious decision to turn the blog into a repository for the body of written work that I have produced over several decades and as a library to house the many artistic endeavors that I have created in collaboration with the wonderful artist and downright drunken degenerate Scouser Dave Ell … btw Dave has several books of his own original works available over at his site.
So go ahead and download the latest book, cosy up with a nice refreshing bottle of Unoaked Chardonay or a fine Pinot Noir and ENJOY … Bottoms Up! … RH
My thanks to the guest who nominated our site for inclusion in the Spanking Spot’s Creative Site of the Year award category … My thanks, also, to Brush Strokes, the spanking scenes most eminent political pundit for hosting these prestigious and coveted awards and … Finally my congratulations to my fellow nominee’s who all have wonderfully creative sites and are some of the hardest working bloggers amongst our community.
Over the past year we transformed the Woody Back to School Unit site to become more of a repository for the ongoing saga, which is now comprised of forty-one volumes, (with more on the way) all collected in Library I, and numerous other Woody related stories stored in Library II … The galleries display in excess of one hundred original Woody cartoons that were created in collaboration with Dave Ell … Our intent is to continue to maintain and update the site as new Woody material and, or, other interesting spanking related material becomes available … So please continue to watch this space and remember that everything at the Woody Back to School Unit is completely original and ABSOLUTELY FREE and even better we keep the whole site ABSOLUTELY COMMERCIAL FREE as well.
I think that one of our successes this year was to modernize the look of the site and especially to make it more accessible and reader friendly on most portable devices and to make it work better with a wide variety of browsers … hopefully all our guests are enjoying a more satisfying reading experience on every available medium … if anybody has a problem with a particular browser or device let us know and we will try to rectify … Once again my thanks for the nomination … Bottoms Up! … RH
Today’s brief teaser is an extract from the very soon to be published ‘Volume 42 – The Final Flogging’ of the Woody Back to School Unit saga and features another hot and sweaty incident in the colorful life of Debs Morton … Unusually I commissioned the accompanying toon (featured at the foot of this post) before I had written the story … the two spankers, Debs Morton and Claire Brooks’ respective mothers had been featured in earlier tales and toons and their toon characters were amongst my favorite interpretations of my briefings that are brought to life by Our Man from Phuket, the legendary booze-hound and general Scouse Scallywag Dave Ell so I hit upon the idea of putting them together on-stage engaged in an epic spank-off featuring their hapless daughter’s bare behinds and hard unyielding long handled, oval headed, wood backed hairbrushes … I think the result speak for itself … a truly classic toon … It’s Saturday so I invite you to kick back and enjoy this little yarn and then if you like what you read please feel free to stay around and have a good old rummage around the libraries and galleries … there’s lots to read and lots of original toons to view and its all ABSOLUTELY FREE and even better we keep the site COMMERCIAL FREE as well … Bottoms Up! … RH
The Two Ma’s
At twenty-one hundred sharp Smoke-time tens of thousands of Woodettes logged on to http://www.woodettes.com and were greeted by the familiar figure of Miss Christy Cranfield seated behind a desk, resting demurely on her elbows and facing directly into the camera.
“Greetings fellow Woodettes,” she said warmly. “As you are aware this evening Claire Brooks and Deborah Morton have agreed to participate in what will almost certainly be remembered as a historic event. These two brave young ladies have agreed to subject themselves to bare bottom spankings from their respective Ma’s in the cause of a number of grateful charities. The number of spanks delivered to each has been mutually agreed to be twenty-four, however safe words have been selected and if at any time either of the participants feels that they have reached their limits of tolerance the spanking will be immediately terminated. Now it is my great pleasure to introduce Ma Brooks and Ma Morton.”
The curtain on the stage rose and from either side of the wings Mrs Christine Brooks and Mrs Penelope Morton strode onto the stage.
Ma Brooks was an internationally familiar figure; she was regularly seen on television alternating between stumping for the current prime minister, who just happened to be her husband, or advocating the liberal use of wood-backed hairbrushes on the bottoms of recalcitrant daughters. Like Claire she had feline facial features framed by dark chestnut hair and carried herself with an elegant grace. But in contrast with her daughter she was notably shapely, an asset that she showed off to good effect with the figure hugging lime green sleeveless dress she had chosen. In her right hand she carried a long-handled, oval-headed, wood-backed hairbrush. She waved at the guests as she approached one of the two straight-backed chairs that had been placed on the center of the stage.
From the opposite wing Deborah’s mother Penny entered the stage. She wore a red dress with matching make-up; her blonde hair fell over her shoulders giving her a decidedly youthful look. In her younger days Penny had been a nationally ranked tennis player and a noted concert pianist. After her marriage and the birth of Deborah she had retired from public life and had concentrated on nurturing the many talents of her prodigious daughter. She smiled at the audience and approached her old chum Chrissie Brooks and shook hands. In her left hand Penny Morton was carrying an equally business like looking hairbrush.
The two women sat down on the chairs and awaited the arrival of their daughters.
Deborah exchanged hugs with Derby, Kate and Rosemary. She stuck her tongue out at Bernadette. “I’ll get you for this Bounder,” she muttered, “you mark my words,” and then set off across the stage with as much confidence as she could muster.
Debs stared into Claire’s eyes and was almost tempted to start to giggle. Her current situation was so incongruous it was almost laughable. She would shortly be twenty-eight years old and in less than a month she would be competing at Wimbledon in the worlds most prestigious tennis tournament, but right now she was turned face down across her mothers lap and was about to be spanked on her bare bottom, with lethal hairbrush, in front of a gawking audience.
The chair’s had been placed side to side and the two young women had been bent over face to face to accommodate the fact that Deborah’s mother was a leftie. For the thousandth time in the past few hours Deborah Morton wondered whether she was stark raving bonkers.
Debs reached out and took Claire’s hand. “Good luck, sis,” she whispered. Claire responded by squeezing Debs hand tightly and blowing her a kiss.
“Let the spankings begin,” announced Christy. “One!”
Chrissie and Penny’s arms went up and then the backs of the brushes came down landing on the naked nates of their respective daughters in perfect synchronization.
In over sixty countries around the globe die-hard Woodettes were glued to the video stream being sent live and direct from the Great Hall of the infamous Woody Back to School unit. For days the chat-rooms had been filled with rumors about the forthcoming event, but even after the announcement the Woodettes had not been quite sure what to expect. What they were actually witnessing made them gape at their screens in jaw-dropping incredulity.
A Synchronized Nailing
Claire and Debs were each having good reason to reconsider the current state of their sanity. The two chums wriggled and squirmed, they hissed and panted, and moaned and groaned as the two Ma’s blistered their bums with unrelenting tenacity. The two chums had unenthusiastically conceded that given the extraordinary generosity of the international spanking community that they were duty bound to put on a good show for the fans. The two Ma’s had been instructed not to hold back and to lay it on thick. Chrissie Brooks and Penny Morton were delivering the goods in spades.
After twelve crashing spanks had been delivered Christy Cranfield announced a thirty-second breather. The inmates used the brief interval to make bets on their smartphones via the newly developed Bernadette Summers Enterprises on-line gambling app, wagering whether either gal would invoke the safe word or whether they would choose to go the distance.
Claire hung upside down panting. Very slowly she raised her head and looked over in Deborah’s direction. Debs did the same. Throughout the first session both gals had chosen to keep their heads well down, lost in their own private worlds, repeating their mantras over and over and desperately trying to remain focused and to stay deep in the zone.
“You okay, sis?” Claire whispered.
Debs rolled her eyes and grimaced, but she nodded emphatically. She reached out her hand and they exchanged another supportive squeeze.
“Ten seconds ladies,” announced Christy.
Debs gave Claire’s hand a final squeeze and then released it before lowering her head down between the crisply starched creases of her white blouse.
The two Ma’s arms pumped up and down in perfect synchronization as Christy kept the proceedings going at a brisk pace of six spanks a minute. The images of Claire and Debs vividly scarlet bums being flashed around the globe via Nixdown’s hi-definition video rig left the gaping Woodettes in no doubt that they were witnessing the Real McCoy.
Debs Morton was in no doubt that she was experiencing the Real McCoy. Her eyes were watering, her teeth were chattering and her nerve endings were jangling as the rhythmical spanks worked there way up her right buttock and back down her left.
“Just six more to go,” she told herself. “I can take it, I will not blub and I will not howl.”
The oval head of the hairbrush crashed down on her right cheek once, twice and then thrice. Debs braced herself for the final onslaught on her left buttock.
“Okay ladies, let’s zing them,” called Christy.
Deborah and Claire’s responses were immediate. “Nooooo! Noooo!” they squealed in unison, but to no avail. They felt their mothers press down on their necks pushing their noses towards the floor of the stage and thrusting their buttocks upwards. The hairbrushes crashed down landing three final spanks on each gals quivering left buttock one on top of the other.
“Yow-ow-ow-ow!” howled Debs.
“Yarooh!” hollered Claire.
In the space of just six rapid spanks two of the communities most whop-hardened veterans had both been nailed in perfect synchronization.
Around the world Woodettes gaped at their screens. All around the Great Hall the guest’s chins dropped. On stage Claire Brooks and Debs Morton were gyrating in their mother’s laps, legs kicking, fists air-pumping and buttocks wriggling and squirming as they tried to cope with the overwhelming effects of being zinged.
“Not funny,” Debs was panting. “Not funny at all.”
“Man, oh man oh fucking man!” groaned Claire. Fortunately Chrissie Brooks did not appear to appear to notice her daughter unleashing the eff-bomb and was busying herself rolling up Claire’s bumbags and smoothing down her skirt.
Deborah was not surprised that tears were rolling down her cheeks as her Ma helped her to her feet. She put her arms around her mother and slowly rested her head on her shoulder. Penny stroked her hair gently.
“There, there,” she whispered in Debs ear. “It’s over now and you’ll cool down in a few minutes. Just take your time.”
“That was not funny Ma,” Debs complained as she tried to repair her makeup. “How is that you’re the only one that always makes me howl and always makes me blub?”
“It must be a mother-daughter kind of thing,” smiled Penny. “See it’s not just you,” she said nodding in Claire’s direction.
Debs Morton patted her face with cold water. “You know what Ma, I’m going to go and get good and damned squiffy.” She turned around and slipped her arm into her Ma’s. “You coming?”
“Sounds like an appropriate plan,” smiled Penny.
Hi Y’all … Although I now mainly use the blog as a repository for the forty-one full-length volumes of the Woody Back to School unit saga and as a gallery for the hundred plus original Woody Toons that I commissioned from my old mucker and general wine-soak Dave Ell I am still flattered by the considerable traffic the site continues to attract and I can assure you that I very much appreciate your visits.
Like most writers I enjoy receiving feedback about the books and am always more than happy to respond to questions regarding the saga so please don’t hesitate to leave comments and I will respond as soon as possible.
As usual I would like to thank the inimitable Bonny over at the legendary My Bottom Smarts for organizing LoL 7 and a big hi to everybody who is participating in this event.
Finally folks I am closing in on finishing the latest installment of the Woody Back to School Unit, “Volume 42 – The Final Flogging” so watch this space … as usual I am pleased to invite you to stay and have a good old rummage around the Libraries and Galleries … there’s plenty to look at and read and it’s all ABSOLUTELY FREE and even better we keep the site COMMERCIAL FREE as well … so kick-back and enjoy …. Bottoms Up! … RH
There is no better way to start the Labor Day weekend than to download the brand spanking new installment of the Woody Back to School Unit saga, ‘Volume 41 – Six Shades of Red’ featuring the latest adventures and misadventures of Debs Morton, Jojo Heyworth and the rest of the Woody Gang … Thrills, spills and the sounds of canes, straps and slippers rebounding off tautened navy blue gossamer bumbags are guaranteed … And you know what? … It’s ABSOLUTELY FREE just like everything else at the Woody Back to School Unit and what is even better we keep the whole site ABSOLUTELY COMMERCIAL FREE as well … Btw I am particularly thrilled by the smooth readability of the pdf files on my iPad (it’s ok on my iPhone as well but obviously a little smaller) … Just a late additional note, if you touch anywhere on the pdf file on an iPad and you get the ‘open in iBooks’ dialogue, try it out, it presents a perfect page view … any feedback on performance on other media would be greatly appreciated … So we cordially invite you to mix yourselves a Saturday Bloody Mary, kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up!!! … RH
Once again caps off to Janus Worldwide who have dug through their archives and created a 30th Anniversary digital magazine tribute to the iconic St Winifred’s trilogy … the original three films were financed by Peter Lucas, a doyen of the eccentric London Soho spanking set of the seventies and eighties, and were notable for their use of a relatively large cast, full colour, sound and even some slow-motion effects … the tribute magazine Janus Encore Volume One features recollections of making the film and many previously unpublished pictures for the avid collector of such wonderful smut … It’s also worth stumping up the paltry few squids they are charging for the re-rendered editions of the movies, if for no other reason than to listen to the completely off-script dialogue being uttered by yet another former resident Soho bohemian, a notorious conman and bon viveur, the late great Stanley Lowe who plays the Headmaster of the St Winifred’s school (who says spanking and caning can’t be fun?) … Also of interest is that the films were shot in the once exclusive restaurant known as ‘School Dinners’, that was originally located in the Barracuda Club on Baker Street, not but a skip and a jump from Sherlock H’s original abode … I’m sure that I’m not the only London spanker who partook of an occasional gargle at the SD bar back in the day!
I am very close to finishing the latest volume of the Woody Back to School Unit saga so keep checking back and if you are a new guest, welcome and please feel free to stay around and have a good old rummage about … there’s lots to read and view and, just so you know, everything at WB2SU is available for download ABSOLUTELY FREE and even better we keep the site ABSOLUTELY COMMERCIAL FREE as well (with exception of the occasional shout-out to Janus for nostalgia’s sake) … so enjoy … Bottoms Up!!! … RH
The tradition of six of the best dates back to the halcyon days of the 19th century when flagellation was all the rage. The most famous dominatrix was Theresa Berkeley who ran a lucrative house of flagellation at 28 Charlotte Street in London. The majority of paying punters who pitched up at her boudoir were looking to get themselves ‘fladged’ with birches as their instruments of choice. However, she also played hostess to a number of floggers and she therefore retained several girls on her staff who were willing to bend over for a good thrashing. These famous London Flogging girls, such as Miss Ring, One-eyed Peg and Ebony Bet, could take dozens of strokes of the birch but complained that extended sessions with the cane took too long to recover from and reduced their business opportunities. Accordingly Berkley allowed visiting floggers’ six strokes per session at a fixed price if they chose to beat the girls with the Nilgiri canes she had imported from Eastern India so that her girls would be ‘fully recovered on the morrow’. Additional strokes could be purchased at increasing ad valorem duties.
In an obituary, published in the London Times, following her death in 1836 she was described as ‘Six of the Best Berkley’.
Learned authorities on the subject tend to concur with Berkeley. Deborah Morton, who is an internationally respected pundit on the subject, has authored several treatises on Corporal Punishment, including the widely read, ‘Why Six of the Best is Always the Best’ and ‘The Five-Minute Six’.
In the former article Miss Morton observes that a punishment caning is supposed to result in some considerable degree of discomfort without becoming debilitating. She acknowledges that three or four cuts of the cane are not really adequate and although painful they are a mere inconvenience. She observes that an extra two strokes was ample to fully get her attention and would result in the feeling that smoke was billowing out from beneath her skirt for several hours. She is convinced that six is the optimum number for a caning and, although she could undoubtedly absorb more strokes, to avoid any latent wriggling, squirming, hopping, rubbing or squeaking while going about her daily business, further strokes were unnecessary.
Another aficionado in the fine art of caning Claire Brooks agrees with Miss Morton’s findings that anything less than six hardly really amounts to much of a caning.
Recalling her first caning at the exclusive Dayton Manor boarding school she wrote, “Everything was extremely polite at Dayton. We communicated a lot through little notelets that we left in each other’s pigeon-holes. I still have my favorite invitation. I had been at the school just a few months when I found a pretty pink envelope placed in my box. I opened it expecting to be invited to a birthday feast or, better still, a polo match. The message inside was neatly hand written.”
“It read, ‘Dear Miss Brooks, You are invited to repair to the House Captain’s quarters to participate in a six o’clock swishing. Yours Faithfully, Monica Rodgers’. Even more bizarrely at the bottom she had written RSVP!”
“Monica Rodgers was a prissy little thing with pigtails and a really big snooter; we used to call her Monc the Conk behind her back, but receiving an invitation to participate in one of her six o’clock swishings was a little unnerving. She was rumored to be rather good with the stick.”
“I found Monc in a terrible tizzy. She said that I had a bad case of the dt’s and was getting her house a bad reputation. I couldn’t very well argue; I had taken up permanent residence in the detention room since I arrived at Dayton. She suggested we try a swishing.”
“I had no objection in principle to the suggestion. Ma always told me that she far preferred a swishing to writing boring lines or spending hours in the detention room. So I agreed we should give it a try. She bent me over the back of her sofa and gave me three hot ones, but we all know that is only half a caning, so I felt obliged to go back a few days later and get the other half.”
Miss Susan Lawton, a highly respected disciplinarian, offers the opinion that ‘women are born broad of beam and perfectly designed to absorb six of the best’. She also believes that a successful caning is a partnership.
It is the job of the martinet to make sure that the strokes land safely in the sweet spot of the upturned behind, avoiding dangerous wraparounds or unnecessarily painful high or low riders. It was recipient’s task to ‘put it up and keep it up’ and to present the target as high and steady as possible.
Susan Lawton also emphasizes the importance of the last stroke, commonly known in the disciplinary trade as ‘the Closer’. Having carefully applied the first five parallel tramlines across the fleshy crown of the rump the final stroke should be delivered diagonally across the existing strokes forming a five-bar gate.
Deborah Morton also offers the opinion that the duration of a caning is crucial and in the article ‘A Five Minute Six’, she extends the thesis that five minutes is the perfect timing for delivery of six of the best, writing, “First there should be a sixty second set-up where you are in position over the back of a straight-backed chair (or another appropriately selected furnishing) with your skirt neatly turned back. This might not seem long but I can assure you a lot goes through your mind when you’re head down, arse up for sixty seconds. The next phase is delivery of the actual whops. One every thirty seconds, which gives you sufficient time to experience the full cycle of each stroke. Finally we should be given another sixty seconds to gather ourselves before being given the release command. It is an extremely practical approach to caning and very fair on the recipient. We know exactly what to expect and there are no surprises.”
Most educational and reformatory institutions heeded Berkeley’s sage advice regarding six of the best and it became the tradition that British canings were limited to this magic number … So now ya know … Bottoms Up!!! … RH
I finally found time to continue with finishing off the upgrade of the WB2SU site to a newer, cleaner and hopefully easier to navigate look … my thanks to those of you who took the time and confirmed that it seems to work reasonably well in most media platforms including the iPhone and iPad … I have checked as many links as possible and they seem to work (at least at my end) … After several years the site is kind of transforming into a repository for the books and illustrations that make up the shortly to be completed Woody Back to School Unit saga so I want it to look spiffy and contemporary … (I am aware that the links to the ‘Spanking Art Wiki’ and ‘Zille defeu’s’ site do not currently operate as advertised but I wanted to leave them as place-holders as they are both significant sites in the community and I will update when I have corrected information) … Once again if you have any comments or ideas about the formats please either leave a comment or email me at Woodettes@gmail.com … It’s raining, it’s pouring, so it’s a good day to kick back, put your feet up and enjoy a fine glass of Pinot Noir … if you like what you see then feel free to stay around and have a good old rummage about … there’s lots to read and view and, just so you know, everything at WB2SU is available for download ABSOLUTELY FREE and even better we keep the site ABSOLUTELY COMMERCIAL FREE as well … so enjoy … Bottoms Up!!! … RH
Finally I have found a new look for the site that seems to work on desktop, laptop and mobile devices … I will slowly go back through some of the older posts and see if I can clean them up but mostly I am trying to make the new material as user friendly as I can … so if you have a particular device, or use a browser where the site is not looking good please let me know and we’ll see what we can do … I will also reinstate the blogroll as soon as I understand how this new theme works … Thanks from all of us at the WB2SU … Bottoms Up! … RH
Today’s brief teaser is an extract from the soon to be published ‘Volume 41′ of the Woody Back to School Unit saga (yet to be given a title) … this extract features another installment in the adventures of Debs Morton as she enjoys a gals night-out … the action begins at Café Woodys, a nightclub established by Miss Spanky Botts where followers of the Whops and Clobber zeitgeist, known as the Woodettes, can go and let their hair, and more often that not their bumbags, down … I first introduced the Café in ‘Volume 26 – Café Woodys’ which I have to say is one of my favorite books in the saga, so if you like this little yarn and you haven’t read Café Woodys I encourage you to cut along sharpish to Library I where you will find it available for download ABSOLUTELY FREE, but then again, every thing at Woodys is free … and you know what else … even better we keep the site COMMERCIAL FREE as well … So please feel free to hang about and have a good old rummage around … It’s Sunday and the last Euro2012 Division B games of the so-called “Group of Death’ are starting shortly so am preparing a jigger of Bloody Mary’s and getting ready to kick-back and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH
A Gal’s Night-out
Deborah sank back into a cushioned booth in the VIP area of Café Woodys. “This place is incredible,” she gasped breathlessly.
Spanky Botts grinned. “Wednesday night’s are generally packed, especially when Cat and Vix are in town. When the gab went out that you were planning on visiting tonight we were sold out in minutes.”
“So much for a few quiet drinks and some recreational whops,” giggled Debs. “I’m cream crackered from all that glad-handing and it’s not even ten o’clock yet.”
For the past hour Debs had been circulating in the main bar area sharing hugs with the many guests that she recognized from previous excursions to the night club that Spanky Botts had opened as the headquarters for the Woodette community. Deborah always enjoyed putting faces to the names of the many guests who regularly commented on her popular ‘Debs Diary’ blog. By the time she reached the VIP area and sat down she was exhausted.
Lady Victoria Brompton slid into the booth. She reached over and took a bottle of Bolly out of the ice bucket and refilled her glass. She wiggled the bottle and offered Debs a drink.
“Hell yes,” giggled Debs. “I have full dispensation from Team Morton tonight, so you go gal.” Vix grinned and poured. Debs continued to giggle, “but don’t let me get too squiffy, I’ve got my last meeting with the players union tomorrow and the last thing I need is a monumental hangover.”
Victoria squeezed Deborah’s hand. “We’ll take good care of you,” she promised.
Cathryn Cassidy and Lady Victoria were enrolled in the Old Gal program at the unit and were both studying for their degree’s on-line. On Wednesdays and Thursdays they travelled up to the Smoke where Cat interned at her fathers music publishing company and Vix worked with a barrister who offered free legal services to the under-privileged. On Wednesday nights they generally enjoyed an early dinner with Cat’s mum Caroline and then repaired to Café Woodys for drinks and a chinwag with Spanky and Christy Cranfield.
Deborah had an appointment the following morning to meet with the Professional Lawn Tennis Players Union to finalize the paperwork that would allow her to play in the upcoming Wimbledon tournament. As Cat Cassidy had officially completed her sentence and was no longer on probation she had been authorized to act as Deborah’s guardian for the evening.
From the comfort of the cushioned booth Debs leaned back to watch the activities out on the main plate. The Café practiced a strict clobber policy. Most of the guests arrived straight from work and immediately went upstairs to the spacious locker room where they could change. The club offered a full laundry service and guests wanting new supplies could step across the landing to the exclusive and conveniently situated clobber outlet operated by Bernadette Summers Enterprises.
The guests fell into two distinct categories. The first group that was known as the ‘Stripies’ wore the official red and black striped Woody Back to School Unit neckties. By donning the striped tie the guests indicated their willingness to participate in all forms of entertainment offered by the club.
A second group, known as the ‘Blockies’ wore solid red ties that indicated that they were at the club merely as social observers.
Just doing a visual count Debs observed that the ‘Stripies’ were in the majority by quite a significant margin.
Every fifteen minutes there was a call for silence and the names of three ‘Stripies’ were announced. They were instructed to proceed immediately to the foot of the stairs and face the wall with their noses pressed to the woodwork and their hands placed on top of their heads. Ten minutes later they would be escorted to the top floor of the building where the three punishment salons were located.
The ‘Stripies’ would be ushered into either the space designed to replicate the Woody library, one of the lecture rooms, or the Grand Master’s office from the unit’s compound.
Christy Cranfield acted as the Mistress of Discipline at the Café and maintained a copious database regarding the personal tastes of each member, their previous experience and their individual level of tolerance. On any given night Christy had a dozen fully trained and qualified volunteer Dominatrices at her disposal; she was meticulous about ensuring that every punishment pairing would provide the ‘Stripy’ with the maximum satisfaction.
In addition to the routinely scheduled punishments, at any time there might be an announcement for immediate silence and everybody in the bar would be subjected to a full bib-down, tie-back clobber inspection. As the evenings wore on and the guests became mildly squiffy the standard of attention to the Politics of Clobber often went into decline. Most evenings numerous Woodettes found themselves taking a walk of shame towards the stairs so they could be taken up to have their rumps roasted for ‘Clobber Abuse’.
“This place is crazy,” Debs told Spanky Botts as she watched with rapt fascination. “Very fun but very crazy.”
A Strict and Stern Dominatrix
Deborah hung upside down over Lady Victoria Brompton’s lap with her crimson bottom pulsating.
“Holy shit that smarts,” she panted and drummed the toes of her pointed shoes on the floor.
They were in the living room of the Cassidy’s town pile in Eton Square. Cathryn was leaning against the mantelpiece dragging down on a fag and idly sipping a glass of bubbles.
In some elements of society it might have seemed a tad queer for a twenty-seven year old woman to be draped across the lap of one of her best chums while she was having her naked buns warmed with a wood backed hairbrush. However within the social strata’s that Cat, Debs and Vix circulated this form of recreation seemed like a perfectly reasonable way to cap off an already enjoyable evening.
Towards the end of the night, Karen Masters, one of the Café Woody luminaries had availed of Victoria to take her upstairs to one of the punishment salons and to give her a damn good spanking with the famous Red-shirt hairbrush. In accordance with house formalities Deborah had tagged along to act as the witness to the proceedings.
Debs had watched the spanking with conflicting emotions. Victoria was certainly putting her arm into it. Karen was one of the original Woodettes and a die-hard spankette. Victoria was absolutely scorching Karen’s buns with the fearsome brush. Karen was as tough as nails but her whole body was convulsing and kicking as Victoria laid it on thick. Vix had to pull Karen in tightly to the crease of her lap to keep her from squirming away. It sent a shiver up Deborah’s spine as she watched Karen’s pert little buttocks swelling up to the size of two juicy watermelons. Deborah Morton could attest better than any body to Lady Victoria’s awesome skills with the brush. The previous year Debs had taken half a dozen trips over Victoria’s knee. The last occasion was amongst Deborah’s least favorite memories. Following a prolonged and rather futile clash of personalities between the two women Victoria had ended the feud by taking Debs to the library and giving her thirty-six full-blooded spanks of the hairbrush in front of the assembled Elite. Later that evening Deborah wrote on her Debs Diary blog, “It would not be an exaggeration to say that by the end of it I was good, red and howling”. Nonetheless, despite the chilling effects of watching Victoria pummel Karen’s squirming rump Deborah felt a twinge of envy.
“What would you do if I squirted you with this soda syphon?” asked Deborah once they had returned to the VIP area of the Cafe.
“I would probably take you home and give you a damn good spanking,” drawled Victoria.
“I thought you might say that,” said Deborah and picked up the syphon.
As they climbed out of the taxicab Lady Victoria took a tight grip on Deborah’s left arm, just above the elbow. “Just wait until I get you inside young lady,” she hissed in Debs ear authoritatively while Cat was paying off the hack.
The severe tone of Victoria’s voice had immediately jolted Deborah into the here and now. Since the syphon squirting incident the subject of Deborah being spanked had not been mentioned any further. The two gals had burst into fits of giggles after Deborah had launched the spray of soda in Victoria’s direction. Her aim had not been very good and Vix had barely been splashed. Until Vix had gripped her arm, Deborah had strongly suspected that Victoria had elected to ignore the little prank.
Cathryn Cassidy swung the front door of the house open and Victoria hustled Deborah through the doorway and into the long wood floored hallway. Once Cat had bolted the door behind them the three women set off in the direction of the stairway. The huge mansion was silent aside from the clicking and clacking of the gals’ heels on the floors as they cut along quite sharpish. Deborah’s tummy was beginning to churn as Victoria marched her through the house. Lady Victoria’s sudden transformation from a giggling, fun-loving gal on a night out to taking on the aura of strict and stern dominatrix had been quite extraordinary. Deborah was completely caught up in the moment as she hurried along trying to keep pace with Victoria’s stride. She was almost overwhelmed by the sense of the inevitable.
It was a strangely familiar feeling. Over the past seven years Deborah could remember dozens of occasions when perfectly good days had suddenly been turned on their heads when quite unexpectedly she had been grabbed by a member of the Elite and swiftly marched through the compound on a journey that would inevitably conclude in the most painful of manners.
The walls of the Cassidy residence were adorned with fine art. Caroline and Christopher’s sponsorship of aspiring young artists was legendary. On previous visits Debs had spent hours admiring the works but as Victoria purposefully marched her up the stairs Deborah had more pressing matters on her mind.
“Hang up your blazer and come over here young lady,” snapped Victoria as she plonked herself down on the seat of an armless chair and slapped the back of the hairbrush against the palm of her left hand.
Deborah grimaced. “Oh no Ma’am, please,” she pleaded. “It was just a joke. I really don’t need to be spanked.”
Victoria stared poker-faced at Deborah. “I’m waiting. Don’t make things worse for yourself. Just remember this is going to hurt you a lot more than it’s going to hurt me.”
Debs Morton groaned inwardly and reached up and unfastened the top button of her red and black striped blazer and then shrugged it off.
The Rhythm of a Spanking Dominatrix
Victoria took her time maneuvering Debs into a satisfactory full drape. During the fifteen months that she had spent fulfilling the role of Red-shirt at the unit she had spanked hundreds of bottoms and knew exactly how she liked her spankee’s positioned before she went about her business. Victoria was universally adored and respected amongst the Woody community but nonetheless once the gals was over and up with their bottom bared they knew that they were about embark on one of the hottest experiences of their lives.
Debs felt Victoria’s hand gently exert pressure of the back of her head lowering it between her outstretched arms and inching her nose closer to the thick pile carpet. Deborah’s skirt was already folded back and her bumbags were concertinaed around her ankles. As she stared bleakly down at the floor Debs knew there was no further preparatory work outstanding before the spanking began. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Lady Victoria Brompton did not profess to fully understand the masochistic lifestyle but she was well aware that once a spankette such as Deborah had successfully finagled her way across her knees that she was not there in pursuit of any half-arsed whops. Victoria pulled back her arm and let loose with a full and juicy spank that landed on the lower third of Debs’ right buttock. Deborah’s body jerked in response and then sank back into position. Both women knew that it was just the first step in a long and slow process.
Deborah pursed her lips and stared down at the carpet as she waited for the arrival of the second spank. With Victoria seated on a conventional chair as opposed to the tall spanking stool from the Woody library Deborah had resigned herself that Vix would take her time over delivering the spanking. Nonetheless, for Deborah the arrival destination of the second spank would impart critical information for her ongoing preparations and she waited anxiously to discover the outcome.
After sixty seconds the conundrum was solved when the head of the brush crashed down a second time on the same right buttock, landing slightly higher than this first with only peripheral overlap. Debs pursed her lips and squeezed her eyes tightly shut while she waited for the excruciating flesh burn to marginally diminish. At least she had learned the key to the rhythm of the spanking that Victoria had selected and she now knew what to expect. She stared down at the carpet and did her level best to get herself into the zone.
Cat Cassidy blew smoke out of her nostrils and sipped her glass of bubbles as she observed the proceedings through expert eyes. Cathryn had been around spanking and corporal punishment for nearly twenty years and she knew that she was watching two women at the very top of their game.
Victoria was concentrated and intensely focused as she landed every spank with meticulous accuracy, distributing the spanks up and down Deborah’s naked nates, creating the maximum discomfort without causing any long-term damage. Debs, for her part, kept her body formation stretched out and compliant, with her head well down and her arse well up. Rolling with the punches but always ready and waiting when the next spank was scheduled to arrive.
Cat Cassidy was duly impressed.
Deborah stared bleakly down at the carpet. They had finished the first cycle. Six spanks working up the right cheek from bottom to top and then back down the opposite cheek. Debs didn’t need a mirror to know that her buttocks were now glowing a pretty hue of red and she surmised during the brief half-time interval that they were soon going to take on the color of freshly harvested summer cherries.
She kept her head well down between the razor sharp creases of the sleeves of her crisp white blouse while she waited for Victoria to continue. Her mind was racing and her backside was roasting. Debs still found it hard to comprehend that in a few minutes time when this hell was over she would no longer process the excruciating throbbing in her rear end as pain but would embrace it warmly as a perverse and comforting form of pleasure. Sometimes she wondered about her sanity.
Victoria brought the business side of the oval-headed, wood backed hairbrush down with such enormous force that Cat Cassidy nearly choked on her champagne. Deborah rocked and rolled in Victoria’s lap, she wriggled and squirmed and she punched the air as if she had just nailed the winning point at the final of Wimbledon. Victoria pulled Debs in tight and waited for her to settle down. They both knew that they had just entered the home straight. Vix brought back the brush and brought it back down with sensational results.
Deborah shuffled over to the mantelpiece and accepted a glass of bubbles from Cat.
“I just don’t get it,” she grumbled. “I had a lovely night out with you guys and I could be snuggled up in bed with a nice cool arse but instead I have this kind of shit to deal with.” She scarfed down the glass of bubbles in one and then snatched Cat’s fag and took a long deep drag. She handed the ciggy back to Cathryn. “I’m going to bed,” she snorted. “I really do have to be certifiably fucking barking,” she groaned.
“Woof fucking woof!” drawled Cat laconically and gave her chum a goodnight hug.