Volume 1 Whops and Clobber R Humphries - The Woody Back to ...

Whops and Clobber
Deborah had no idea what was going on she
just wanted the last two strokes to be over with. Her
bottom felt fried and frazzled, all her blood seemed to
have rushed to her head making her feel dizzy.
The Grand Dame flexed the ashplant with
obvious displeasure. The light rod seemed like a mere
twig compared to the regal senior cane that now lay
cast aside, pathetically broken.
"I'm sorry Morton,” she announced. “This
ashplant is most unsuitable; I intend to give you two
additional strokes to make up for its inadequacy."
The inmates gasped audibly. Deborah, in her
upside down position, could hardly believe her ears.
She vainly tried to object but before she could get
words of her mouth her arse was under fire once
again. Deborah's head was spinning at an alarming
rate as the twelfth stroke whistled through the air.
She clenched her teeth as the nerve jangling
implosion racked through her body. The thirteenth
stroke followed swiftly with the same cobra's venom.
Deborah gripped the legs of the horse in whiteknuckle
desperation. By now she could hardly breathe
through the bile filling her throat and nose and her
bottom throbbed and ached and burned.
The Grand Dame let the cane fall by her side
for a moment. She studied the white target
thoughtfully. Deborah had not flinched or moved, not
a sound had uttered from her lips. Ms Lawton was
sure that if she put her hands close to the gal's
backside she would be able to warm them as if she
was in front of a well-stoked coal fire. The Grand
Dame lifted the cane for the final time.
The gals in the assembly hall watched in mute
horror as the Grand Dame’s arm went up. Most of the