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

A Life in the DayofNixdown NixonR HumphriesWoodettes Publications

Published 2010byWoodettes PublicationsHouston, Texas, USA© Woodettes Publications 2010R Humphries has asserted his right to be identified asthe author of this work with all rights reservedincluding the right of reproduction in whole or in partin any form.The Library of Congress has catalogued this edition asfollows Humphries, R [date]A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixon : a novel byR Humphries[Application Pending]1st Ed.ISBN – [Application Pending]www.woodettes.wordpress.com

Author’s NoteThis is a work of fiction. Names, characters,places and incidents are either the product of theauthor's imagination or are used fictitiously. Anyresemblance to actual events or locales or persons,living or dead, is entirely coincidental.The stories based at the Woody Back to SchoolUnit are works of adult fiction based upon the real-lifefantasy games played by the author, R. Humphriesand his wife, the inimitable Jojo.It is the author’s intent to create the WoodyBack to School Unit as an imaginative world peopledwith a believable cast and set in familiar surroundingswithin which the readers will become comfortable.The vernacular used in the stories is acombination of the phraseology derived from writingsuch as the British penny comics from the nineteenthirties, current language, slang and idioms, and theinvented parlance known as Woody Jargon.As such references to ‘beating’, ‘thrashing’, and‘flogging’ have no context to the use or avocation ofphysical violence, with the exception of controlledcorporal punishment, against the characters of thestories.

DedicatedtoMy Beloved Jojo

ContentsIt Started With a Spanking ................... 1Degenerate .......................................... 5Thrashed by a Goddess ......................... 9Recreational Spanking ....................... 14Mentoring .......................................... 18Planet Nix.......................................... 23Yvonne and Janet ............................... 27Victoria and Debs ............................... 32

1It Started With a SpankingI wake up in a make-shift straw bed in the tackroom of the stable complex. It is only five-thirty in themorning but I am an early riser. My step-mother,Petron, and I used to exercise the horses at dawn,along the beaches outside our home when I was stillin the idyllic throes of childhood.Penny Ann is still sleeping and breathinggently. She has a slightly blissful smile on her face.I pad barefoot across to the sink and brush myteeth and try to straighten my hair a little. Then Icollect my clobber and quickly dress, doing my bestnot to disturb Pen.Once I am fully dressed I lean down and kissher gently. Her eyes flicker open and she smilessleepily.“I have to run,” I tell her. “I’m on duty atseven and I need to get some coffee and take ashower. Thanks for last night.”She gives me a small sleep-giggle. I kiss heragain and then cut along.

A Life in the Day of Nixdown NixonThere is nobody about as I cut across thequadrangle and go into the main house. I head overto the cafeteria in search of java.I find Debs Morton standing by the machinewaiting for it to heat up. She is dressed in trainingsweats and is on her way for her morning run withJane Lummell, who is her tennis coach. We oftenmeet at this time of the morning, me on the wayhome from my trysts with Pen and Debs off on herway to start her busy day.She grins at me, “So how was it?” She askscheerily.“Absolutely divine,” I tell her and I’m not lying.My bum is still tingling deliciously.We started last evening’s activities with mestretched out across Penny Ann’s lap for a straightforward,good old fashioned spanking.When I arrived at the stable Penny Ann wasalready waiting. She had lit a number of unscentedcandles and I could see an ice bucket with a bottle ofVeuve Clicquot that we would enjoy in the fullness oftime.Penny Ann is a statuesque gal, standing fivefeetnine inches in her stockinged feet, which issomewhat taller than little old me.She was dressed in a black five button ridingjacket over a white linen shirt that I bought her theother day and a black silk tie. Her strong legs wereshoe-horned into form-fitting charcoal grey jodhpursthat were tucked into knee-high black riding boots.She was holding a braided riding crop between hergloved hands.

3Pen wears her mass of blonde curls mussed upon the top of her head. She has strong featuresdominated by large blue eyes and radiates health.She is my English rose.We did not waste time with niceties.“Remove your blazer and place your hands onyour head,” she instructed me as soon as I walkedthrough the door.Penny Ann is a quiet and gentle gal by naturebut she served a year in the role of Red-shirt at theunit and was responsible for disciplining hundreds ofinmates. She taught herself the art of exudingstrength and patrician authority.I did as I was told.Penny stood up and set the crop to one side.She took off her black leather gloves and slowlyunfastened the five buttons down the front of herjacket.The stable was quite dark, with just thecandles flickering and a little light from the moon andthe stars. It was serenely silent with the only soundthe occasional snort from the horses in their stalls.Pen shrugged off her jacket and hung it upbeside my red and black striped blazer.The white cotton and silk material of herblouse clung to her upper torso like a second skin.She was wearing a thick leather belt around her waistthat accentuated her hour-glass figure. I thought shelooked magnificent.

A Life in the Day of Nixdown NixonShe rolled back the sleeves of her shirt,unfastened the top button and loosened her tie. Sheretrieved her gloves and pulled them on.She walked over and stood before me. As Ihave said she is significantly taller than me and I hadto tilt my head upwards to meet her coolly steel gaze.She told me to lower my arms and then tookme firmly by the wrist. “Come with me, young lady,”she told me and started to stride purposefully acrossthe stables towards a conveniently positioned bale ofhay.I had to scurry a little to keep up in order thatI was not being dragged, which would have been atad undignified.We reached the bale of hay and she sat down.In one fluid movement she gave my wrist a tug andpulled me downwards across her lap.She was all business, flipping back my shortskirt and rolling down my bumbags.“Stretch out,” she commanded. “I intend togive you a damn good spanking.”I shuffled into position and felt myself beingpulled tightly into the crease of her lap. I feel theleather of her glove tapping down on my upturnednaked flesh and then she raised her arm in the airand brought it down with an explosive smack.It was not long before I felt the surface of mybum beginning to warm up delightfully.

2DegeneratePenny Ann and I have been an item for nearlyeighteen months now. I know that on the face of itwe seem an unlikely couple. Penny Ann is ratherrefined and reserved, which is the complete antithesisof yours truly.I am well aware that my reputation precedesme and that Pen’s closest chums counseled her togive me a wide berth. I can’t say that I really blamethem as I suppose I have always reveled in myreputation as a degenerate.Actually I feel that degenerate might be a littleharsh; secretly I prefer to consider myself to haveliberal tendencies. However, I have kind of embracedthe notion of degeneracy since the Grand Dame atone of the many schools that I attended felt the needto publicly denounce me as such in a crowdedassembly hall.We have known each other for yonks, datingback to the glorious days when we rode competitivelyagainst each other and then on the same national

A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixonteam that swept the continent winning trophies androsettes wherever we went. ‘We’ being Penny Ann,Jojo, Claire Brooks and I.Penelope Ann Evans was the eldest amongstus and the Captain of the team. She was always quietand reserved but she was a fabulous rider and led byexample.What a team we were. My dearest, life-longchum Jojo was the heart and soul of the team. On therare occasions things were not going too well shewould rally us and inspire us with her fearlessperformances.Claire Brooks always looked as if she hadstepped off the cover of Country Life. Long and lithe,pristine and elegant, and then she would open hermouth. Claire’s mother used to attend most meetsand I can’t tell you how many times we witnessedpoor old Claire being unceremoniously yanked acrossher mother’s knees to be soundly spanked with awood-backed hairbrush for potty-mouthing,regardless of the audience.I was the problem-child of the team due to thefact I was often between schools due to myunfortunate habit of being expelled.When I was unavailable our first reserve SarahForsham-Smythe would take my place. Sarah ofcourse is the daughter of the billionairess MelissaForsham-Smythe. Melissa was always apoplectic thather off-spring was not a first choice and it is onlyrecently that we have learned the extremes that shewas willing to go to in order for her daughter to getto ride in the Olympics.

7Pen and I were good chums but we were sovery different I never considered her as a target for apotential conquest.We were all gob-smacked when Penny Annfailed a urine test before a major event and wassentenced to seven years at Woodys under therecently enacted Anti-Ladette laws. A more unlikelyLadette would be hard to imagine.Jojo took over as Team Captain and Sarahbecame a permanent fixture on the squad. We had noidea that within the next two years that the teamwould be decimated and that Jojo, Claire and I wouldall be fitted out for clobber.Around this time Jojo and I started ourCreative Arts company. Jojo concentrated on theaterand the production of industrial size sculptures. I haddecided to follow in my father’s footsteps and workbehind the camera.My father is Nicolas Nixon and her has beendirecting and producing movies for over thirty years.He has never been Hollywood mainstream but hisfilms have played to packed movie houses all overEurope. He is considered to be a cultural icon inCzechoslovakia.I was brought up surrounded by exotic artisticspecimens and none more so than my step-motherPetron. I never really knew my birth mother as shedied in a car crash when I was barely able to walk.Petron was my father’s muse and had starredin his earliest films and they married two years aftermy mother’s untimely passing. She is French and

A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixonextraordinarily beautiful. She coached me in the waysof the world at a very young age.I started out making music videos. It wastremendous fun and I fancied myself as a rather racyartist working on the cutting edge. In hindsight thoseearly videos were somewhat naïve and pedestrianalthough at the time I considered them to be veryrisqué.I had not yet discovered my inner spanketteand it was not until slightly later that I began toinclude the BDSM themes that caused me to sufferconsiderable harassment from the Dark Agents of theSystem and were used as an excuse to bang me up atWoodys.In fact I am a rather unlikely candidate for mychosen fetish as my early experiences of corporalpunishment were far from erotic.

3Thrashed by a GoddessAlthough my father maintained a beautiful seashorehouse in Somerset he and Petron spent muchof the year in Paris and other European locales. So atthe age of eleven I was shipped off to boardingschool. After a childhood of travelling with my fatherand living on an unpredictable timetable I was notbest suited to the rigors and regimen of boardingschool life.The first of the schools I attended wasconsidered amongst the most prestigious in thecountry and was certainly amongst the mostexpensive. It was filled with members of thearistocracy and the daughters of the landed gentry.As the off-spring of a self-made film director I waslooked down upon as a parvenu. The gals were aprissy and self-important lot and none more so thanthe four gals who were known as ‘The Goddesses’.The four Goddesses were comprised of theHead-Gal and her Deputy and the Captains of the twohouses. We were expected to address them as

A Life in the Day of Nixdown NixonGoddess Ponsonby-Jones, Goddess Seighton-Holmes,or whatever their stuffy names might be.Nobody seemed to think it the least bit queerto have to say, “Yes, Goddess,” or “No, Goddess”,nobody that is except me who considered itridiculous.It was probably from these early experiencesthat I developed my sense of the absurd and thehealthy cynicism of which I am often accused.I had not long been at this hell-hole before Iwas summoned to the Head-Gals Chambers.When I arrived the four Goddesses werewaiting for me in all their pompous splendor. TheHead-Gal, Goddess Ponsonby-Jones did most of thegabbing, but it turned out that another be-yotch,Goddess Seighton-Holmes was the real villain of thepiece.I was informed that earlier in the evening I hadbeen guilty of ‘Gobbing a Goddess’! Apparently I hadpassed this be-yotch Seighton-Holmes in thequadrangle and had the audacity to go about mybusiness without stopping and saying, “Good eveningGoddess, is there anything I can do to assist you?”She had taken this as a personal slight and felt thatshe had been well and truly ‘gobbed’ as such behaviorwas so quaintly termed.I remember staring at them as if they werealiens from a different planet, which in many waysthey were. I muttered some form of an apologyalthough I did not feel in the least bit apologetic, butit didn’t really matter anyway. A cane was producedand I was informed that I was to be thrashed.

11I did not take this news well but they gave mea choice. I could either bend over the back of the sofaunder my own steam or they would physically holdme down. Needless to say I bent over.I was so angry that the caning itself did notseem to hurt much. Once Ponsonby-Jones wasfinished and I was allowed to return to the upright Ifelt I had no option. I hacked her in the shins!This resulted in a second caning, which I mustadmit did hurt rather considerably, although I neverlet them see that.This ridiculous incident cultivated my seriousdislike for being formally punished which continues tothis day. I felt that it was ridiculous that these beyotch’shad the power to bend me over and beat myarse with a whippy rattan cane.My stay at the school was an unhappy one, Iwas at constant war with the Goddesses and gobbedthem at every opportunity. They, of course, thrashedme whenever they had a chance. I always felt theneed to retaliate with shin-hacking which alwaysguaranteed me a few more strokes.I actually remained enrolled at the school foralmost three years. I think that my father’s generousgifts of new libraries and extensions to the facilitieshad more to do with that than their desire to retainme as a pupil. After all my father probably had moreloot than the combined chaps of the aristocraticbumpkins put together.I was thrashed fifteen times during my stay.That may not seem a lot when compared to therecords of my dear chums Debs, Claire and theBounder but to put it in perspective most girls at the

A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixonschool went through entire careers getting the caneonly once or twice, so clearly I was not popular withthe be-yotch Goddesses.Not that my time was entirely wasted. I wiledaway my time by honing my art of seduction andsubsidized my allowance giving lessons in Frenchkissingand the fine art of cunnilingus.Eventually I was booted out and started arather peripatetic education. Most schools were loatheto enroll somebody who had an expulsion on theirrecords. I was generally taken on for a probationaryperiod and was rarely invited to extend my stay.I picked up a few more canings along the wayand my shin-kicking responses generally sped up myearly evictions.My final educational hoorah was ratherspectacular. I had been enrolled at yet another prissyinstitute and had immediately busied myself withseducing several members of the Upper Sixth form.Unfortunately I fell foul of the Headgirl.She was hankering for a little Nicola Janeaction but I refused her overtures. After all she hadrecently bent me over for six of the best and I hadstandards, bedding down with her would have beentantamount to sleeping with the enemy.She took out her spite by reporting myactivities to the Grand Dame and one morning I wassummoned onto the stage in morning assembly andpublicly denounced as a degenerate. I was caned infront of the whole school.I felt I had little choice but to retaliate and foronce I didn’t consider shin-hacking to be theappropriate response to being publicly caned so I

13procured some explosives and fire-bombed the beyotch’scar. Sadly she wasn’t in it.As you can tell I was an unlikely candidate fordeveloping a penchant for recreational spanking.

4Recreational SpankingPenny Ann did not hold back. She knows mytastes and knows that I do not spend time across herknee’s to indulge in a gentle paddy-whacking.She had me tucked into the crease of her lapwith her arm around my waist. I couldn’t haveescaped if I had wanted to. Penelope Ann isphenomenally strong. She was brought up on a farmin East Anglia and despite her chaps being wellheeledand having plenty of staff she was expected tolend a hand in working the land.I love the feeling of her leather gloved palmrebounding from my naked flesh. I love the sensualleather infused smell of the tack-room and theflickering candle-light. I was in Nixdown heaven andthe night had only just begun.My first foray into recreational spanking wasnot actually that recreational at all.I was working on my first movie as anassistant director and dating one of the camera-men,a hunk of a chap.

15One evening we had arranged to meet fordinner and for reasons long forgotten I was severalhours late. He was furious and when we got back tohis apartment he put me over his knee, flipped backmy skirt and gave me a damn good spanking.Needless to say I was outraged and respondedin typical Nixdown fashion by hacking him in theshins, slapping him around the kisser and stormingoff in a high old snit.However, when I got home I found myselfcuriously aroused by the memory and found itimpossible to sleep. There was nothing else for it, Ireturned to his apartment and demanded that heRodger my eyes out, but only after he had put meover his knee for a second time a spanked me until Isqueaked. The rest as they say is history.The heat in my bottom was growing inintensity and I could not help but wriggle and squirma little under the deluge of spanks. As I squirmed Icould feel the softness of the fabric of my blouseagainst the flesh of my tummy, it was a deliciouslyexotic sensation.Recently my clobber consultant sent mesamples of a new fabric she had found at one of myfavorite tailors in the backstreets of Ho Chi Minh City.It is basically two layers bonded together. Theexternal layer of the garment is a crisp cotton thatholds its creases perfectly and its stiffened collar isperfectly spread to accent a well-knotted tie. Thesecondary internal lining is a beautiful soft andluscious silk.

A Life in the Day of Nixdown NixonMy chums josh me about my passion forclobber but anybody who tries out well craftedclobber is an instant convert.My chum Deborah Morton has always beensomething of a hobo. Even when she was famous andalways in the newspapers she always hid underbaseball caps, over-sized leather jackets and sweatpants.The only thing that she ever seemed to spendany money on was cowboy boots, of which she hasan extensive collection.At Woodys she was amongst the most clobberchallenged gals in the unit and took numerousunnecessary excursions over Katie Becks lap to haveher rump roasted with a leather soled slipper forclobber abuse. I put it down to that cheap cataloguecrap she insists on buying. It is a shame reallybecause she is a pretty little thing and I alwaysthought that she would brush up nicely.When Deborah was promoted to Deputy RedshirtI decided that it was time to take her in hand. Iflew my clobber consultant out to Ibiza, where wewere all spending furlough, and had Debs measuredup for tailored clobber. She made a terrible fuss aboutthe expense. It is not that she is a tight-wad but sheis squirreling away every penny to support herself andher team when she returns to the tennis circuit nextyear. I reassured her that my father had generouslyapproved the ‘Morton Makeover’ budget. She finallyrather poutily succumbed and now she is a convert tomy style of radical chic. This is fortunate becauseshe’s back in the news these days and is perceived asan icon for the zeitgeist of Whops and Clobber and it

17wouldn’t do to have a hobo as our representative. ButI digress.Penny Ann rearranged me in her lap, makingsure that I was teed up and primed. I knew what toexpect. She was preparing to blitz me.The blitz is really the heart and soul of aspanking. She had been slowly and methodicallysmacking my bottom in a predictable tempo, workingup one cheek and back down the other. Every spankdesigned to build up the heat and increase thediscoloration of my sitmedown. By then I was deep inthe zone and perfectly mentally prepared to beblitzed.Actually no matter how experienced or whophardened you become you are never truly prepared tobe blitzed. The spanks rained down fast and furious. Icouldn’t help myself, I gyrated and kicked my legsspastically. I punched the air and shook my head inbewilderment as her leather hand landed randomly inan alarmingly unpredictable manner. A blitz attackmay only last a few seconds but it seems like aneternity.I lay panting and inert across her knees tryingto get my breath back and to stop my pounding heartfrom leaping out from below my blouse. It was adizzying sensation and I was in Nixdown heaven. Itwas clearly time for champagne.

5MentoringDebs takes off for her run and I pour two cupsof coffee, one for me and one for Jojo. We don’tactually share a study anymore now that we havebeen elevated to the giddy heights of the Elite but oldhabits die hard.I cut through the labyrinth of wood-floored,oak-paneled corridors towards the back stairwell thatwill take me up to the private landing reserved for thestudies of the gals in Phase 7 of our sentences.Nobody is about yet and the only sound is the click ofmy heels that echo rather eerily around the hugebuilding.Today I am the designated Duty Monitor andwill be responsible for assisting Lady VictoriaBrompton and Debs in administrating and maintainingdiscipline over the inmates. As it is Saturday this willbe a full-time job as there are no lectures convenedover the weekends. As usual I shall concentrate onadministration and will leave the discipline part of theequation to Vix and Debs. After my experiences with

19the odious Goddesses I am not much inclined towardswielding that type of power and authority.Nonetheless, I do understand the need fordiscipline in a facility such as this. Now we couldargue until kingdom comes over the rights andwrongs of the Anti-Ladette laws but the fact of thematter is that the government, with the support ofthe Great Unwashed, took a dim view of our freewheelingactivities and deemed us to be need ofExtreme Social Rehabilitation. I may think that this isall fabricated tosh and doubtless history will prove meright. However, when we started our sentences therules, regulations and protocols were drummed intous, or more accurately spanked into us, and withgreat vigor.During the first year of our sentences we wereknown as Little Brats and designated as Grubbies.Being a Grubby meant that you were assigned to amember of the Elite to act as her fucking serf inreturn for her mentoring services.Mentoring services included draping us. Bydraping I mean turning us face down, arse upwardswhile they dusted our bumbags. Our mentor was alsowaggishly known as our Personal Draper.I was assigned to be mentored by themonstrous be-yotch Katie Beck, while she was still aninmate at the facility.Now let’s get something straight, Katie Beckwas a hard-core criminal and well-known to havebeen the first female senior vice-president of theConfederacy of Yoofs. How she managed to finagleher way into being charged under the Anti-Ladettelaws instead of being carted off wearing a ball and

A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixonchain to do hard labor is one of the great mysteries oflife kept classified by the darkest of the Dark Agents.The rules, regulations and protocols arecontained in mighty tomes and during our first weekat the facility we were required to learn them byheart, our mentor could spot test us any time shechose.Katie, of course, elected to test me regularlyand regardless of whether I gave the correctresponses or not she always found a reason to yankme over her knee and dust me liberally. Now this typeof behavior is guaranteed to give a gal of mytemperament a severe dose of the pip so I resortedto my tried and trusted skill in shin-hacking.This made for an acrimonious relationship.Katie knew that she could not very well report me asmost of the dustings were completely unjustified. Webegan a war of attrition.Katie is a queer cove by any standards. She isof course knock down beautiful with that mane ofhair, bright blue eyes and a body to die for. She isalso a cruel, nasty and odious specimen of humanity.In another of life’s mysteries she had donesome more finagling and had got herself elected asRed-shirt. This was due to the fact that during theearly part of her sentence her chaps had died in a carcrash and Ms Lawton had taken over responsibility foracting as her Court Appointed Guardian. Unwisely MsLawton had decided that giving Katie responsibilitymight increase her ward’s chances of becomingsocially rehabilitated. Snakes do not become sociallyrehabilitated and Katie is a fucking viper.

21Early in the piece I was mooching about herstudy grubbing and overheard her gabbing with hersycophantic confidantes. She was boasting that sheintended to thrash every inmate at the facility withinher first hundred days of office. According to therecord books she achieved this in half the time.Katie and I fought constantly. She is muchbigger than me but she is a vile bully and basically acoward. On several occasions I managed to scratchher face leaving her to try and explain herdisfigurement to Ms Lawton.She in turn responded by habitually yankingdown my bumbags and spanking me relentlessly. Thiswas strictly against the protocols but it did earn methe nickname of Nixdown Nixon.I could have appealed but any such applicationhad to be filed with Patricia Hodge, the Deputy GrandDame. Patty is another vile and odious specimen and,of course, she was Katie’s personal sponsor andmentor. With that avenue closed to me I continuedwith my shin-kicking strategy.Now that I am in the Elite I have my owngrubby. I was assigned a fabulous young lady calledFrancesca Reese. Frankie was an independent actressbefore she fell foul of the Dark Agents. She is bestknown for her on-screen delivery of Lady Macbeth’ssleepwalking soliloquy while as naked as a jay-bird.She has been an occasional bone of contentionbetween me and Penny Ann, who rather distrustfullysuspects that I have my eye on my grubby. Thisunderstandable as Frankie is something to behold

A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixonwith her mane of golden amulets that pour down herback. However, she doesn’t need to worry as for oncein my degenerate life I have made a pact with myselfthat I will never do anything that would hurt PennyAnn.

6Planet NixPen and I enjoyed a icy glass of bubbles. Shesat on a bale of hay; I lay on my tummy at her feet. Imay be Nixdown, woman of steel, but my bum wassizzling and sitting down did not strike me as aparticularly attractive proposition.My bum was burning delightfully. There was noneed to hurry things. The night was still young andnobody was going to bother us in our sanctuary and Iwanted to savor the moment while I sipped myfavorite tipple.Penny Ann picked up the leather riding cropand toyed with it teasingly in her gloved hands. Shewas totally relaxed in our private world and shelooked magnificent in her skin hugging shirt with hertie slightly loosened.The crop she was holding is one of myfavorites. It is a vintage piece with a braided pig-skincovered shaft and a engraved silver niello handle,finished with a horn knob.I have been collecting crops obsessively since Iwas very young and started riding, long before I had

A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixonany inkling of my persuasion. I suspect that a trickcyclist might make something of the innermechanisms of my subconscious but I am not a greatone for shrinks. I spent a large part of my youth invarious doctor’s waiting rooms when the authoritieswere trying to unveil some dark secret behind mycompulsion with shin-hacking. I bamboozled themwith a shed-full of porkies. As far as I was concernedmy compulsion was a perfectly natural reaction tohaving my bottom whipped by some snotty be-yotchwith a cane in her hand.I stood up and fetched the bottle andrefreshed the glasses. Pen swished the crop throughthe air playfully. It made a threatening whistle. Shesmiled at me and winked.Penny Ann has grown to be at ease with thedynamic of our relationship. It took her a little time tofind her comfort zone but these days she is quitehappy getting her kicks on Nix-Sixty-Six.When we first started to play together I’m surethat I confused Pen. She was the Red-shirt of thefacility and on two occasions she had been requiredto dangle me in the disciplinary theater. By beingdangled I am referring to being put across her knee,upstairs in the library, and being spanked on my barebum with the back of a long-handled, oval-headed,wood-backed hairbrush. As I have said earlier I donot take this type of punishment well and accordingto Penelope Ann I was rather grumpy during theseincidents. As a result she was understandablybewildered when I invited her to the stables and

25demanded that she thrash me with a leather ridingcrop.It didn’t take her long to get tuned into PlanetNix and when I’m face downwards across her lap Iam always confident that she will not wimp out andhold back.Yesterday evening she was the Mistress of mydestiny and it was up to her to set the pace.“Come here,” she told me.I set my glass to one side and stood up.Without needing any further instruction I offered hermy wrist so that she could assist me as I arrangedmyself across her knees.She turned back my skirt and rearranged mybumbags until they were concertinaed around myankles. She stroked my red and swollen bum with theover-sized slapper at the tip of the crop and allowedme some time to settle in.There was absolutely no question that the nextfew minutes were going to become extremely hot andsweaty. The whippy braided shaft would slice myflesh like a knife cutting through ripe fruit. I wasalmost delirious with raw adrenalin and anticipation.Without warning she slashed the cropdownwards and my body was instantly wracked byparoxysms of agony which my brain translated intopure ecstasy. I was immediately hurtled on my way toPlanet Nix.In my opinion a braided riding crop is a perfectinstrument for delivering a whipping. It’s relatively

A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixonshort shaft makes it ideal for close-up over the kneework. The slightly stiff shaft and the flexible slapperat the tip work together to impart the most exquisitecombination of smart and sting.Now I have to admit that I am in the minorityin my taste for the crop. At one time or another mostgals have been required to fold themselves over MsLummell, the riding instructor’s, knee so that thejodhpurs can be rolled down and their hindquarterstickled with their own crops. According to a recentpoll on the GalGab web-site this particular form ofpunishment rated very low on most of the inmates’wish-list.Pen was putting her arm into it. During herperiod as Red-shirt she earned a respectablereputation for her prowess with the wood-backedhairbrush and the skills she learned translate rathernicely to our private sessions.She whipped the crop down with considerableforce and I purred with pleasure.

7Yvonne and JanetI stuck my head around the door to Jojo’sstudy. Her bed has not been slept in so I assume thatshe has spent the night in the Grand Master’squarters. I smile to myself. It is wonderful to knowthat my best chum is so happy and contented in herromance with Mr Humphries. They will be married inthe summer, once we are released, and I shall be herMaid of Honor.I go next door into my own study and put thetwo coffee cups down on my desk and head for theshower. It is still barely six o’clock and I don’t go onduty for an hour so I have time to luxuriate andpamper myself.Sometime last evening, before she turned infor the night Frankie has stopped by and laid out afresh set of clobber on my bed. Unlike many of theinmates who only maintain a minimum wardrobe Ihave a huge collection. I am really fussy about myclobber, obsessively so maybe, and on a busy day liketoday I may well change my blouse three or four

A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixontimes. I will also make a complete change before thisevening’s social event.I have just finished drying my hair and amknotting my red tie when Lady Derby Huntingtonpokes her head around the door.“Good Morning, Ma’am,” she says cheerfully. “Ihave just made fresh coffee for Miss Morton, wouldyou like me to bring you a cup?”Derby grubs for Debs. She is an absolute doteand as mad as a March Hare. She hails from one ofthe nations oldest and most respected family’s andwas brought up surrounded by maids, valets andliveried footmen. Nonetheless she has taken to thelife of a grubby with remarkable enthusiasm andtends to Deborah’s every need morning, noon andnight.I thank her and make a final adjustment to theknot of my tie so that it is seated neatly in a perfectvee and fully covering the top button of my blouse.Derby returns with a mug of coffee. “Is thereanything else I can get for you, Ma’am?” she asks.We have been trying to cure Derby of callingus Ma’am except in public, when it is a requiredprotocol, but she just giggles and ignores us. I tell herthat I’m fine and she tells me she will cut along andget everything prepared for Deborah’s return fromher run. No sooner has Derby departed than there isanother knock on the door.“Come,” I call and Yvonne Godfrey and JanetMitchell shuffle into the room.“Reporting for duty, Ma’am,” mutters Yvonne.

29Now I have absolutely no problem with Yvonnereferring to me as Ma’am, in fact I insist upon it.Yvonne and Janet spent seven years asinmates of the facility and are loathsome and odiouscretins. During the dark days of Operation ScorchedArse they served in Elite and were the principal’s ofthe heinous Secret Sorority of Serial Spankers. Withthe sponsorship of Patty Hodge and Katie theirassignment was to make life miserable for theinmates and cut as many pairs of bumbags to tattersas humanly possible.They both caned me a time or two and I canassure you that they made it an even moredisagreeable experience than usual.After their release from Woodys theyapparently returned to their roots and threw theirbumbags back in the ring with the Confederacy ofYoofs. Somewhere along the way the thought itwould be a wizard wheeze to go into the kidnappingbusiness.Fortunately the Yoofs enlisted the assistance ofa bunch of incompetent Scouser’s and it all wentpear-shaped in a heartbeat. Yvonne and Janet werecaptured and returned to the Unit for theirparticipation in this fiasco.Now the once mighty Commandants of the SSare reduced to the role of permanent grubbies. Theyare responsible for maintenance and cleaning of thefacility and each day they are also required to providerelief grubbing support on the Elite landing.By and large the inmates are not a vindictivebunch but it would be impossible not to harbor some

A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixongrudges against this pair of be-yotch’s and not toenjoy some gloating satisfaction at their reducedcircumstances.“Morning ladies, hands on your heads, youknow the form,” I greet them.Janet looks resigned as she raises her arms.Yvonne on the other hand takes the time to glare atme before complying; her eyes burn with anger andresentment as she links her hands on top of her head.Before we discuss their day’s assignments I amrequired to subject them to a full clobber inspection. Idoubt that they will be foolish enough to pitch up withtheir clobber in an abusive state but it is anopportunity to make them sweat a little.I start with an inspection of their blazers andthen proceed to methodically check every stitch,seam, hem and button of their clothing. As Isuspected I do not find any infringements of theclobber protocols but you can tell by the relief ontheir faces when I tell them that they can lower theirarms that they found the experience suitablydisagreeable.I click on the duty roster on my laptop andlearn that today they have been assigned to supportLady Derby in her grubbing duties. I suppress a grin.Derby is a hard task-mistress and will not tolerate anyslacking on her watch. She will have Yvonne andJanet scurrying about hither and thither and willmonitor their performance like a hawk. Lady Derbyhas no compunction when it comes to dispatchingthem to the library for a thrashing if she feels thatthey have not met her exacting standards.

31The list of assignments includes several routinemaintenance tasks including polishing the floor of theGrand Hall in preparation for tonight’s feast. I printthe list and send them on their way. I should feelsome sympathy for them but I don’t. Be-yotch’s.

8Victoria and DebsI pull on my red silk and mohair blazer andfasten the five buttons up the front. I go over to theumbrella stand and select an ashplant cane which Iwill be required to carry tucked under my left armthroughout the day. This is rather unnecessary as Ihave ceded my thrashing rights to Debs but itremains a requirement of the Elite Charter so I do notfeel inclined to argue the point.The ashplants are very slender, eighteen inchlong canes that apparently have been in use bymembers of the Elite ever since the original WoodySchool was first established in the mid-1800s.According to Debs who researches this kind of stuffthey are produced by some family in Dublin and arecut from saplings of a particular mountain ash-treeand then cooked in a chimney-oven. She alsomentioned that according to the advertising literaturethey come guaranteed one-hundred-per-cent testedfor performance. I’m not sure where you find the jobapplications but if ever I’m in the mood for a careerchange or in need of a few extra squids I could

33always sign up for a position in the family’s qualitycontrol division.Now suitably accessorized for my day as theDuty Monitor I stroll down the landing to LadyVictoria’s study to see whether she is ready.Lady Vix is swallowing down the dregs of hercoffee, presumably supplied by the good offices ofDerby and burning a cigarette. She is dressed in adeep red silk blouse with black piping around thecollar and a short black flared skirt. She wears a blacktie around her neck that she has not yet got aroundto fastening.“Morning,” she half-yawns, “Give me a fewminutes and we’ll get the fawkin’ show on the road,”she drawls in her aristocratic voice.I tell her that there is no hurry and bum one ofher fags.I have known Vix since the Ladette days whenJojo and I used to party together with the likes of Catand Melons. Glorious days when we worked likedemons all day and tripped the light fantastic allnight. Before she was arrested and banged up atWoodys, for dancing naked in the fountains ofTrafalgar Square on her twenty-first birthday, I hadthe privilege of attending several of her New-YearsEve balls at her father’s pile. I think that Victoria’sfamily has an even longer heritage than Derby’s.Brompton Castle was built back in the ninth or tenthcentury and is a rather ethereal spot on the top of ahill with panoramic views of the Brompton estate. Theinterior has mostly been renovated and modernizedbut thankfully the Brompton family has had the goodsense to keep the dungeons intact and I have spent

A Life in the Day of Nixdown Nixonmany dreamy and eventful nights in the dark recessesof the castle.Victoria finally stops bustling about and pullsher black blazer out of the closet. I go over andfasten the top two buttons of her shirt and knot hertie correctly. She smiles and pulls on her blazer.“I guess we’d better fawkin’ cut along,” shedrawls.I love potty-mouthed aristocrats.We are cutting across the quadrangle in thedirection of the Grand Masters quarters when Debscatches us up. She slips her arm into mine and startsto prattle on about some new gadget that she hasthat she wears on her wrist while she is running andmonitors all manner of her critical functions. She isstill on an endorphin rush and despite the fact I haveno idea what she is talking about I know that there isno hope of stopping her. Deborah is notorious for herpersistence in delivering her opinions andobservations. I catch Victoria’s eye and we exchangea wink. In a few moments Debs will just run out ofsteam and by the time we reach the Grand Master’squarters she will be prepared to start her day in therole of Victoria’s deputy.Over the last few days there have rumors onthe gossvine that Victoria is considering standingdown as Red-shirt and handing over the reins toDebs.Although I count her amongst my closestchums my relationship with Deborah Morton hasoccasionally been fractious. I am sometimes accused

35of being cynical but actually I just think that I have aninnately suspicious nature and I have sometimessuspected that Debs engineers many of her morecalamitous situations for her own personal selfaggrandizement.Deborah naturally denies any suchaccusations and our disagreements have occasionallycaused significant rifts in the lute.At the end of last year when Mr Humphrieswas seeking a successor to Lady Victoria he lobbiedJojo and I to fulfill the role of Red-shirt. For differentreasons we both turned down the position and weboth expressed the opinion that despite Deborah’s fallfrom grace with Ms Lawton that we just assumed thatwould be forgotten and she would be the naturalcandidate. After all she is an unreasonably (andperhaps even unnaturally) gifted individual and it isactually her abundance of fatal flaws that make herso attractive and sometimes even endearing.However, The Grand Master explained that he fearedthat she would just be too high maintenance and Ihave to say that I agreed with him. Eventually LadyVix was persuaded to stay on for a second term eventhough she has officially finished her sentence.Despite the Grand Masters concerns Victorialobbied for Debs to firstly be promoted to Captain ofthe Red House and then subsequently as her Deputy.I am forced to admit that Debs has proved mewrong and has done a smashing job in both roles, soI am more than happy to endorse her when the timecomes. I just wish that she would stop babbling in myear about heart-rates and breathing patterns.