A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixon - The Woody Back to School Unit

A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixon
any inkling of my persuasion. I suspect that a trick
cyclist might make something of the inner
mechanisms of my subconscious but I am not a great
one for shrinks. I spent a large part of my youth in
various doctor’s waiting rooms when the authorities
were trying to unveil some dark secret behind my
compulsion with shin-hacking. I bamboozled them
with a shed-full of porkies. As far as I was concerned
my compulsion was a perfectly natural reaction to
having my bottom whipped by some snotty be-yotch
with a cane in her hand.
I stood up and fetched the bottle and
refreshed the glasses. Pen swished the crop through
the air playfully. It made a threatening whistle. She
smiled at me and winked.
Penny Ann has grown to be at ease with the
dynamic of our relationship. It took her a little time to
find her comfort zone but these days she is quite
happy getting her kicks on Nix-Sixty-Six.
When we first started to play together I’m sure
that I confused Pen. She was the Red-shirt of the
facility and on two occasions she had been required
to dangle me in the disciplinary theater. By being
dangled I am referring to being put across her knee,
upstairs in the library, and being spanked on my bare
bum with the back of a long-handled, oval-headed,
wood-backed hairbrush. As I have said earlier I do
not take this type of punishment well and according
to Penelope Ann I was rather grumpy during these
incidents. As a result she was understandably
bewildered when I invited her to the stables and