A Life in the Day of Rosemary Booker - The Woody Back to School ...

47
She smiles sympathetically.
This type of chatter about the state of each
other’s bums is quite normal at Woodys. It’s hardly
surprising, really, considering that on any given day
an average of half a dozen gals are required to bend
over for a thrashing of one kind or another. A good
deal of gab on the gossvine relates to who got what
from whom and all the gory details.
Nixdown is always amongst the most curious.
She is a rather strange cove in some respects. When I
first arrived at Woodys I suppose I was a little naïve
in the ways of the world. Over the years I had read
the occasional article in the papers and magazines
that referred to an eclectic strata of society who
indulged in BDSM activities. I never really paid this
subject much heed and I suppose I imagined this
community was comprised of dodgy characters
lurking about in darkened dungeons, tying each other
up and beating each other with whips. I was quite
stunned when Nicola Jane quite openly announced
that she was a member of this community. She did
not fit my mental model in any shape or form.
Nixdown is a tiny little thing. She does not
stand five feet tall, although she strongly disputes
this, and must weigh a hundred and five pounds. She
is stunningly beautiful with flaxen hair, blue eyes and
full pouty lips. Although she eats like a horse, drinks
like a fish and smokes like a stack she has an
hourglass figure. I have known her for nearly six
years and have never known her to do any exercise
other than the periods of physical education we are
required to attend as part of the curriculum.