Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page and I am delighted to announce that the first five full volumes are now available for purchase at the brand, spanking new Woodettes Storefront! Electronically downloading is the cheapest and quickest means of getting to read hundreds of pages of spanking good fun!
As I have previously mentioned R Humphries is fascinated by the language of spanking. The little gem of a phrase “absolutely creamed” was fed to me by my old chum Nixdown.
In contrast to the golden nuggets I find in vanilla conversations and squirrel away for later use, when engaged in conversation with Nixdown and the subject came around to spanking (which was frequently) she was a treasure trove of inspiration. I have written before that Nix may well have been (and may well still be) certifiably barking (see The Agony and the Ecstasy and the Rasmussen Principle) but she was a hugely colorful and articulate spankette and we collaborated on numerous stories together.
She was describing a ‘schoolie’ themed play session that she had indulged in with her playmate of the day, an exceptionally buxom English rose who would become Penelope Ann Evans in my Woody Back to School Unit stories (name changed naturally). According to Nix they had been experimenting with a new cane and she had been taunting her lover that she wasn’t hurting her (this sounded typical of Nixdown) so apparently her playmate got annoyed and Nix reported, rather smugly, that she “bent me over the desk and absolutely creamed me.” I nearly choked on my beer when she offered up that little gem.
As usual it was poor old Debs Morton whose bumbags I selected for the introduction of the concept of ‘creaming’ into the Woody Back to School Unit stories. I suppose, because I have been writing about her for so many years, she always seems like the suitable foil when it comes time to write the more spectacular punishments.
In this episode Debs irritates the Dame in Charge of Economics by persistently goofing during a lecture, despite having already been shown a yellow card. The Dame in question, Pauline Gascoigne is a popular lecturer at the facility. She is a fully paid up member of the Liberal Left and considered to be minx-friendly by the inmates. She and Deborah are tight and have been chums for over a decade.
Pauline’s irritation at Deborah’s misbehavior is compounded by the fact that just twenty-four hours earlier she had been obliged to cane Debs for a similar violation of the lecture room protocols.
She instructs Deborah to remove her blazer and bend over her desk. When Deborah responds by rather half-heartedly leaning forward Pauline becomes increasingly vexed and instructs her to bend over properly and ominously tells her that “I intend to absolutely cream you!”
Despite her liberal leanings Pauline Gascoigne is highly respected by the inmates for her prowess with the cane and poor Debs soon finds out what it means to be absolutely creamed when she is treated to six of the very, very best.
The following brief extract is from Volume 3 – A Year of Sitting Painfully that I am currently in the process of publishing.
Deborah slithered her chest across the desktop and reached down and gripped the legs on the far side. She heard Ms Gascoigne approaching and waited to be caned.
“Reach down further,” she told Debs.
Deborah stretched over a little.
“Further,” Pauline instructed her.
Debs pushed her legs up and slithered even further forward. She was bent so far over the desk that if she went forward any further she was in danger of tumbling down and landing on her head. Deborah Morton was acutely aware that her backside was stuck up in the air in the most prominent position physically possible. She felt as if her backside might shortly eclipse the sun. She was beginning to sweat.
Pauline Gascoigne neatly turned back the hem of Deborah’s navy blue pleated skirt and then retrieved her cane. She stepped to one side and unhurriedly began her preparations, taking her measure and tapping the cane down once, twice and then thrice. She raised her arm and sliced the whippy rattan stick through the air, landing it crisply across the sweet spot of Debs’ bottom with an explosive crack. Even Deborah’s fellow whop-hardened inmates were impressed.
Deborah Morton was in little position for refined analysis. Her backside was a well-calibrated whopometer and the first strike was enough to confirm that being absolutely creamed was not going to be much fun. The heat of the cane lashing across her backside ricocheted around her central nervous system like a pinball.
Poor old Debs! Always scoring the big whops!
Bottoms Up! … RH
Don’t Forget – Free Chapters of the Woody Back to School Unit spanking saga are available at the Woodettes Publications Page.
The Woody Back to School Unit 
My first time on this site – but it won’t be my last.
When I was six, I discovered CP the hard way.
After a minor misdemeanour, involving some scissors, I was sent to bed.
A few minutes later, my mother came in, carrying her long-handled wooden hairbrush. She removed my pyjama bottoms, put me over her knee and gave me about fifteen hard strokes. It hurt like hell.
However, my howls were of shock, as well as pain. This had never happened before. My mother was young and very pretty. She loved me nearly as much as I loved her.
The beatings were occasional and unpredictable. Usually, she was delightful and tolerant.
Some holiday, or weekend mornings, my twin sister and I would join her in bed, one each side. She’d suggest an outing, or some other treat. She’d laugh, breasts jiggling under her nightdress. When she massaged her legs with what looked like a rolling pin with octopus suckers, we’d glimpse dark promise. The three of us were very uninhibited with each other.
Mummy never beat my sister, who was just as naughty as me. Looking back, I also realise how sexually and emotionally frustrated the poor woman was. My father – who never laid a finger on me –had no time for love. Their relationship was described when I discovered an ancient Durex container – screwtop aluminium – with one unused condom in it. When on earth was that made?
Fortunately, he was away most of the time on business. Apparently she resisted the advances of numerous more suitable suitors.
When I was six, I fell in love with a big girl. Janet Loftland was eight. I longed for her to spank me, but had no idea how to ask her; she was barely aware of me, let alone the needs of my bare bottom.
Because they signified keen anger or distress, Mummy’s spankings were poignant, as well as painful. After that first occasion, she would anoint my blazing cheeks with cold cream and usually gave me a kiss. But let’s face it: arse cheeks are erogenous. Stroking, mild foreplay slaps. And because I loved her, my stinging buttocks became an erotic pleasure that I did not understand.
A friend’s mother was very hot on “spank bottom”, when exasperated by one or more of her three children. Having seen her give her daughter a good bare-bottom seeing-to, in their garden, I wondered how could I say that my mother wanted her to discipline me if necessary, when I was on her premises. Of course I never did.
At the little private school that my sister and I attended, discipline was firm. The headmaster used the cane a lot on the boys, though only once on me. He preferred to torment the sort of children who get bullied in the playground. I hated him.
The headmistress slippered the girls. Once, I was sent to her, for being noisy in class. Since Sir was away, she would deal with me herself. “Take down your shorts and pants!” I did not hesitate. She was a large woman who seemed old, but was probably about forty. As she sat down, she hitched up her skirt, as men hitch up their trousers. I saw her large white thighs and when I went over her knee, I could feel them. She gave me twelve strokes with the slipper and when I stood up, I had a little erection. I am circumcised, with a prominent penis head. She tweaked it between her thumb and forefinger. I felt something new and thrilling. “You’ll make a good husband one day. Now be off and don’t come back.”
Though I had no idea what she meant, I came back – often. And I had discovered the joys of masturbation……………………………………………………………………….
I tried so hard to be reliable – and it was hard. After one slightly flirtatious business meeting, with a woman whose name I can no longer recall, she and I descended the steep winding stairs. The building was now empty. She looked down at me; our eyes locked. Let’s do it. My face was about level with her bare, brown knees.
This is mad, I thought. I’m in a new relationship. Have I no idea of fidelity?
I’ve regretted those scruples ever since. Fortunately, J was waiting for me in NORWICH mode.
And then, quite by accident, we discovered the joy of sore bottoms.
It started with mild foreplay spankings, for which there was always an excuse e.g. nude sunbathing.
Most naturists are wholesome couples or families. Except the gay gangs. And the single, hetero male voyeurs.
One of them was strategically placed for a peep. She lifted her bottom; you know what he saw.
“See – he’s got a hard-on” she whispered.
“You’ll get a hard hand” I whispered back.
I took out my mother’s cane. Taking a leaf from her book, there would be ritual.
“Take your pants off and drop them on the floor in front of you. Now bend down and touch them. If you can’t reach, spread your legs wider.”
The vulva view was far better than anything the voyeur scored. After the very gentle caning, I applied cold cream, before thrusting in doggy-style.
Just fun. We agreed that CP was mutually beneficial, when one or other of us had misbehaved – and that, because I was stronger, I would submit.
Then, for a couple of weeks, we lived separately – and I needed sex. I expect she did, too.
I only flirted – but with serious intent. I was ready for any opportunity. I agreed to accept my punishment like a man.
She beat me hard with a leather thong sandal.
I told her that, in future, she could use the cane if she liked. She did.
It soon became rather one-sided. She loved dishing it out. I loved her discovery of the joy of domination.
She loved the way my erection grew, after the 5th or 6th stroke.
A smart, dark blue suit. Very headmistressy. If she was wearing that, I knew what was in store. Sore bottom. Swollen dick. Major sex.
In the summer months, punishment was reserved for Sunday evenings, Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays, in order to ensure that there were no telltale stripes on the beach – where we’d strip immediately: the only way to take in the sights, without becoming unpopular.
Then, one evening, I arrived home, to vibrant anger. Instead of the dinky little cane, J held a freshly cut willow wand. The thick end was really thick. It tapered gently, for at least a yard. In her other hand was a restaurant bill. I was not going to be sitting comfortably any time soon.
I chickened out, protesting, truthfully, that the bill wasn’t for two people, but for Table 2.
Since J has very sharp eyes, I’m surprised she made such a mistake. Maybe she just wanted to up the stakes. She seemed disappointed; I had to pleasure her clitoris for a long time before she smiled again.
……………………………..
Now that J & I are parted, I wait longingly for another dominatrix to enter my life.
If you’re a mature lady, from Dorset or Wiltshire, who believes in firm disicipline, I will do almost anything for you – and my bare bottom awaits your pleasure.
Well, Ric thats the longest comment I have ever recieved … thanks … welcome to Woodyworld … have a good old rummage around and enjoy … Bottoms Up! … RH