Daily Archives: May 3rd, 2009

Conversations with Debbie and the Vanilla Nuggets

Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page.

In my last post I alluded to two ‘vanilla-based’ spanking conversations that I had with my best friends sister, Debbie. These conversations were both very important in my development as a spanking-writer and occurred nearly thirty years apart. They taught me the importance of the nuggets that can be discovered in vanilla conversation if you just keep your ears open.

In 1976 my best friend’s family immigrated to Toronto, Canada. I did not see them for the next two years. When I went to visit Debbie had matured into a fine young woman and was clearly happy in Toronto. She was dating an ice hockey jock and had won several major tennis tournaments around Ontario and the adjacent provinces. She was quite the success and had been voted Class President. We became quite close but the matter of the spanking was never addressed. I also chose not confide in her that she had become the central character in my many spanking yarns.

I began to work offshore in the North Sea, doing two-week on, two-week off rotations and had plenty of free-time and money. I quite often took trips to Toronto to visit my pal and his family. Debbie had enrolled at Concordia University in Montreal, taking advantage of her fluency in the French language. My chum and I occasionally took road-trips to visit his sister and I was charmed by the city.

On several occasions I visited Debbie on my own. She was a charming hostess and lived a busy student life; there was always a round of parties and other activities. In the winter of 1979 I visited her during the winter. At the time she had completed her degree and was taking her Masters. The visit was memorable for two reasons. First the weather was truly appalling and I had never been so cold in my life. The second was an impromptu conversation that would capture my imagination and remain as a milestone in my development as a writer of spanking stories.

First though, I would like to assure you that this was a vanilla conversation that had absolutely no spanko undertones. To the best of my knowledge Debbie has no interest in spanking or corporal punishment and, in fact, the manner she told me of the following incidents were delivered with some anger and bitterness. I very much doubt that she would appreciate being a central character of over thirty-five years of my spanking stories.

Debbie had moved into a small townhouse her father had wisely purchased. On the last day of this visit we were finally defeated by the unrelenting wind and snow and decided to stay home and cook. It was a convivial evening, greatly enhanced by several bottles of cheap red wine.

I have to admit that despite my knowledge of her spanking several years before I had always been of the opinion that she was something of a Miss Goodie-Two-Shoes. Like Debs Morton, the character upon whom she is based, she was an exceptional over-achiever and I had always thought that the spanking and her suspension from school was just ‘one-of-those-things’.

I was still pretty young and still liked to gloat over her brother and I’s adolescent delinquency. I don’t remember exactly how the conversation began but I assume I was recalling some great moments of my miss-spent youth when she interjected with the comment that ‘at least you were never expelled’ (referring to ‘from school’) and then astonished me by saying, ‘I was, twice’.

As I say, this conversation was in a vanilla context and she was responding to my youthful boasts. To say that she was actually expelled is not entirely accurate. She was not summarily marched to the gates and dispatched but clearly she did twice become a persona non grata.

Before the family had moved to my area of London Debbie had been awarded an academic scholarship at a prestigious boarding school. It was by her account an unhappy period. Her parents were by most standards relatively wealthy but by the standards of the other girls at the school she was a pauper. She gave me almost no information save to say that she felt that she was picked on by the teachers and was always in detention. Apparently at the end of her first year her scholarship was mysteriously rescinded and her parents had no other option but to remove her from the school.

The family moved to my area where she was enrolled in an independent fee-paying school considered the best in the area. I have some knowledge of the school as my cousin was an attendee, along with my sister’s best friend and a number of other local girl’s I grew up with. I was aware that it infrequently used the cane as it was well-known in my family that my cousin had been caned for truancy. I remember my sister getting into trouble at her school, which did not practice corporal punishment, and her comment that it was lucky that she did not attend my cousin’s school as she would probably have got the cane (another nugget).

That night Debbie told me that she was ‘often’ in trouble at her new school. This was subsequently confirmed by my cousin although she said that Debbie was ‘always’ in trouble. Cuz was several years older than Debbie and remembers her mostly for her tennis achievements. Nonetheless she threw me another character development nugget when she remembered that Debbie was frequently chucked out of the assembly hall, an offense which I have used, hopefully to good effect, in my stories.

In explaining her second ‘expulsion’ I was treated to some scant but remarkable revelations. Although her expulsion was actually a letter to her parents indicating that it would be preferable that she took her sixth form studies at an alternative school there is little doubt that she was theoretically sacked. This incident was the main reason for her parent’s decision to relocate to Canada, where she would as best as I can tell be embraced by the education system and she made no mention of her past troubles following her across the Atlantic Ocean.

The final nail in her coffin was so quintessentially British that it is almost laughable. Apparently she was ‘called out’ during morning assembly to be publicly scolded for having been spotted the previous evening in her boyfriend’s open-topped sports car (bad), compounding her offence by (1) having discarded her blazer and school hat, and (2) having her collar and tie undone (reprehensible) and finally (3) wearing sunglasses while wearing school uniform (a hanging offense). According to Debbie her humiliation was completed when, before dismissing her from the hall, the Headmistress publicly humiliated her by announcing that she was going to get six of the best. Debbie did not dwell on the details of the caning but she fed me several pieces of crucial character-development information. She remarked that she had only ever been ‘swished’ once before and had only got three strokes and that they had hurt much more than the slipper.

Her real bitterness seemed to result not so much from the caning but from the hours that led up to the punishment being administered. Apparently the school rules limited canings to three strokes without express permission of the parents. These were the days before any form of electronic communication gadgetry and the only means of speaking with her mother was by telephone. Like most women of that generation Mother was out shopping and couldn’t be contacted for several hours. Debbie’s biggest grievance was that in the interim she was forced to stand facing a wall outside the Headmistress’s study in a busy thoroughfare. For a sixteen year old this was an even more unbearable humiliation than being whapped on the bum with a cane.

According to Debbie her mother initially disagreed with the punishment but was forced to concede when an alternative fortnight suspension was proposed. Debbie was at a crucial stage of preparing for her ‘O’-levels and the suspension could have been disastrous. In conclusion Debbie was caned (all she said was it hurt terribly) and went onto pass fourteen ‘O’-levels, primarily with ‘A’s’.

I only saw Debbie a few times after that and the subject of corporal punishment never came up. However, many, many years later I would dine with Debbie and her mother and I received one last nugget. Debbie’s mother was laughing about me and her son’s childhood antics when she dropped a beautiful ingot, ‘but it was Debbie who always needed to be spanked’, she said in a manner only a mother can. Debbie was unfazed and laughed and said that she hadn’t turned out too badly and the conversation sadly moved on.

Nuggets, nuggets, nuggets … the seeds of character creation.

Don’t Forget – Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page.

Soho, London, Circa 1972-1975

Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page.

Soho in the nineteen-seventies was a playground for the Young Turk R. Humphries. Even though I was theoretically still legally enrolled in grammar school I had long given up making even a modicum of a display of attending. I doubt that in the prevailing ‘Nanny-State’ culture I would successfully get away with this sort of behavior. Interestingly my parents never suspected that I was a permanent truant and the authorities didn’t seem to care as long as I turned up to play football for the school and performed in gym displays and athletics meets.

An interesting note about Mothers. I was well-over forty years old and was visiting London. My mother had recently attended a funeral of one of my former teachers. Apparently somewhere over the sherries the wife of the piece had informed my mother that ‘you do know that your son never attended school.’

We were sitting down at a rather expensive restaurant over-looking the Thames when my mother considered it appropriate to bring this subject up and berate me over this matter. Well you’ve just got to love them!

Anyway back to Soho. The original Janus shop was in Greens Lane, not far from Greens Park tube station and it was a veritable spanko’s Aladdin’s cave. Now despite my youth I had access to funds. I was something of a footballer and although I was too young to sign professional contracts I was able to earn considerable sums of money for my services. The status of amateur sports has always been rather nebulous and open to abuse. I was recruited by an amateur club run by several local businessmen. It was a successful team and I assume they made considerable amounts of dosh out of the venture. To pay us they merely placed a pencil on the floor of the changing rooms and bet us fifty quid we couldn’t jump over it. This was a veritable kings ransom to a London teenager in the seventies. Do the maths … I could have purchased a hundred copies of Janus a week!

Owners of spanking magazine stores are not much interested in ‘Not for the Sale of Minors’ restrictions, especially if said minor has adequate funds to support his vices. I was never once questioned regarding my age as I proceeded to secure a large collection of spanking material.

My quest was not limited to the Janus outlet. Berwick Street, Dean Street, and Greek Street were filled with street vendors all selling a variety of adult material. I pored through their treasures and became on first name terms with many of them. Underage drinking was enforced about as strongly as the underage porn laws so I often drank with them and made sure they set anything promising aside for my next foray.

I discovered magazines like Slant, which was really off the wall but had the best letters ever written. I had original copies of ‘Bend over Bunty’ and ‘the Caning of Christine’. Classics never since repeated.

Sadly this era of my life came to a sad end. I had my collection stashed in my wardrobe in my parent’s house. My parents were fairly liberal in many ways and knew better than to poke around in an adolescent’s bedroom. Sadly my Nan had no such compunctions regarding youthful privacy. For reasons I have long forgotten I was evicted from my room to sleep on the living room floor in a sleeping bag so Nan that could stay over. The following day I was confronted with my illicit contraband that she had discovered and despite my protestations these now priceless treasures were ceremonially burned by my mother.

You’ve got to love them! 

Don’t Forget – Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page.