A Gal’s Night-out with Debs Morton – A Brand New Yarn

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.

One response

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