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

A Life in the DayofRosemary BookerR 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 Rosemary Booker : 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

ContentsSizzling ............................................... 1Six on the Silks .................................... 5A Pink Slip ......................................... 10Queen Be-yotch ................................. 15Inspection ......................................... 20Kick-Starting My Circulation ............... 24Emergency Repair Crew ...................... 28Bottom .............................................. 32The Big BUTT ..................................... 37Battle of the Titans ............................ 41A Lady of Kink.................................... 46The Sound of Spanking ....................... 51

1SizzlingThe first thing that I am aware of when I wakeup is that my poor beleaguered bum is still sizzling. Itis a most alarming feeling. This unfortunate state ofaffairs is the result of me being required to bend overthe end of my bed for six on the silks from ClaireBrooks yesterday evening.I turn off the alarm clock and sit up in bed. Iam feeling bleary-eyed and quite exhausted as I didnot manage to get much shut-eye last night due tothe incessant throbbing in my poor derrière. Needlessto say I spent the night lying face-down on mytummy.I have to confess that I feel rather guilty aboutgetting my room-mate and best chum, DeborahMorton, involved in the whopping.As usual Debs had gone to bed before me asshe gets up at the crack of dawn to go running withJane Lummell. I stayed up until the lockdown bellrang chatting on line with my boy-friend The SilverFox.

A Life in the Day of Rosemary BookerAt eleven o’clock I turned off the light andhopped into bed. A few minutes later Claire came byand pointed her spotlight into the study to make surewe were both tucked up in bed. Once she wassatisfied she closed the door and proceeded on herrounds.I was just dozing off when I heard a pingcoming from my laptop. Now, it would have beenprudent to ignore the incoming message and to waituntil this morning to read it. However, prudence isnot always my long suit. I knew that it would be atleast ten minutes before Claire came back for hersecond inspection so I got up and padded across theroom.Foxy-one had sent me several photo’s of acottage that he is planning on renting for us duringthe upcoming furlough. Along with the pictures of theidyllic cottage, which is surrounded by orchards, hehad also sent me a picture of a brand new cane hehad procured to help to liven up our forthcomingvacation.I suspected that Debs was not actuallysleeping and hissed at her to come and look at thepics. She ignored me but I persisted. Eventually shepropped herself up and shushed me.“Come and look,” I told her insistently.“Not in these jimjams,” she hissed back. “Idon’t want another taste of Claire’s cane; one dosethis week is enough for me. Now get back into bedbefore you get yourself whopped.”“We’re in the safe zone, Claire will bedownstairs,” I persisted. “Just come and look. PleaseDebs, pretty please.”

3Finally she gave in and padded across theroom to look at the pics. This was when disasterunexpectedly struck.By rights Claire should have been on the lowerlandings continuing her rounds but by some strangeand unfortunate quirk of fate she must still have beenon our landing and had noticed the light I had turnedon under the crack of the door.She caught us unawares as she swung thedoor open. We were caught bang to rights.“Oh good grief,” she muttered. “Alright youboth know the drill. Fetch your pillows and bend overyour beds. I’m afraid I am going to have to beat you.”Claire Brooks is in the final year of hersentence and is a member of the Elite. She performsthe role of Dorm Raider and is responsible forensuring that once the lockdown bell has beensounded there is absolutely no goofing, gabbing,larking or pranking. The lockdown protocols areclassified as ‘Zero Tolerance’ and any contravention,however minor, attracts a mandatory six of the best.“Grrrrrrrrrrr!” muttered Debs. I caught her eyeas she trudged over to retrieve her pillow. She gaveme a look that sent a chill up my spine. I don’t knowwhich made me more nervous, the prospect ofgetting six across the seat of my tautened jimjams orDebs venting her spleen for causing her to get hersecond bed-time beating in the space of three days.I picked up my pillow and placed it over theend of the bed. Rather unenthusiastically I bent over.

A Life in the Day of Rosemary BookerOut of the corner of my eye I saw Deborah doing thesame thing. She was not looking best pleased.As I said earlier in the week Deborah wastreated to a late-night dose of Claire’s cane. At leastthat time it had nothing to do with me and involvedDebs getting distracted by some tennis-jock, studmuffinwhispering sweet nothings in her ear on hercell-phone and missing the lockdown bell.As usual it had been a spectacularly impressivewhopping and I suspect that she was not looking fora second helping quite so soon.I heard the rattle of Claire putting her canedown on the sideboard. She shrugged off her blazerand hung it on a hook on the back of the door. Iwatched her as she carefully unfastened the cuffs ofher crisp white blouse and turned them back. Sheunfastened the top button of her blouse and loosenedher red Elite tie. She retrieved the cane.I was becoming increasingly nervous as shepadded across the room in her crepe soled brothelcreepers.At Woodys everything is performed in aritualistic manner. If more than one gal is to bebeaten then the thrashings are delivered inalphabetical order of our surnames. As my last namebegins with ‘B’ I was scheduled to get it first.

2Six on the SilksClaire Brooks is a very good chum. She is alegendary mega-minx and ranks number four on theAll-Time Big BUTT. This year she has established arecord as the most whopped prefect in the history ofthe Elite. However, she is extremely diligent in theperformance of her Elite duties and has earnedherself a formidable reputation for her expertise withthe whippy ashplant. She has already caned me twicethis year and both occasions proved to be very hotand sweaty experiences. I understand the rules ofengagement and despite our friendship I know that itwould be unreasonable to expect Claire to cut me anyslack.I felt a bead of perspiration across my brow asI lay there waiting to be caned. It was all mostdisconcerting. I finally felt the cane tap down on mystriped trews and braced myself. I heard an ominouswhistle and then all hell broke loose in my jimjams. Ifelt my face contort into a silent howl and my wholebody seemed to convolute into spasms. If the opener

A Life in the Day of Rosemary Bookerwas anything to go by then my imminent futurelooked positively bleak.Claire is a consummate professional and leavesprecisely thirty-seconds before delivering the secondcut. I am too giddy to actually countdown but Isuppose that I have been whopped so often that Iinstinctively braced myself and gritted my teeth justbefore the second wave of agony implodedthroughout my central nervous system. Despite mybest intentions at stoicism my body jerked spasticallyon the bed like a landed fish. It was of course allmost alarming. We are only two in with four to goand my bum already felt like it had been seared withwelding rods.“It’s only whops,” I told myself.Out of the corner of my eye I could see Debswatching intently. Her mouth was set in a grim lineand I could sense that she was smoldering withanger. She knew that in just a few minutes she wasgoing to be subjected to a very painful caning thatwas totally unnecessary and could have beenavoided. Of course I knew that it was all my faultwhich didn’t make me feel any better but I had morepressing matters on my mind.The third stroke scorched another stripe acrossmy bum and caused me to clench my fists andpummel the bed in consternation.Of course, being caned by an expert like Clairemeans that all the strokes will land in the safe targetarea known as the sweet spot. This means that therewill be no wraparounds or high or lower riders. Thiscertainly helps during the recovery period but is not

7of any great consolation during the actual deliveryphase.I gritted my teeth and did my best to gathermyself. I repeated my only whops mantra over andover in my head. I sensed that the time wasapproaching and braced myself.The whippy ashplant etched a fourth line ofwhite heat across my bum and sent another cycle ofnerve-jangling, teeth-chattering, eye-watering paincoursing through my body. I bucked and jerked onthe bed as I struggled to maintain control of mysenses.“It’s only whops, it’s only whops,” I repeatedover and over in my head.Thirty more seconds and the cane whistledthrough the air for a fifth time. It took all of myresolve to keep from howling. My feet broke out intoan involuntary gig and my fists drummed on the bed.My breath was coming in strangled pants and I feltquite bilious.Somewhere through the haze of pain I heardClaire tell me, “Come on Rosemary, you know theform, I need you to put it up and keep it up.”I did my best to steady my nerves and thenwith very little enthusiasm I pushed my bum up alittle higher. I knew exactly what to expect. Anysecond she would unleash the killer stroke known asthe Closer.The final stroke slices diagonally across theexisting stripes creating what is known amongst usWoody Wags as a five-bar gate. It is a technique

A Life in the Day of Rosemary Bookerpracticed by most artistes and the effects areexcruciating. Pain ricocheted around my centralnervous system like a pinball. It is always astonishingthat being whapped on the arse with a stick cancause the tips of your nose and ears to tingle. Iburied my face in the duvet and concentrated ontaking deep breaths.Momentarily I turned and looked across atDebs. Her arms were stretched out along the bed andshe was resting her head on her chin and staringstraight ahead of her. Her features were arranged ina mask of grim determination. I felt a wave ofsympathy for her and wished that I could reach overand hold her hand.At least my torment was over and I couldembark upon the long and painful road to recovery.Deborah’s torment was about to begin.She had been bent over the end of her bed forseveral minutes, watching and listening to me beingcaned. I know from experience how disquieting thatcan be. Doubtless her tummy was full of butterfliesand her apprehension heightened by the seeminglyendless wait for it to become her turn to be dealtwith.Behind her Claire was getting into position andtapping the cane down to get her measure. Deborahpursed her lips and continued to stare straight ahead.The cane whistled and then landed with the familiarthwack. Deborah’s face barely flinched.I closed my eyes and preferred not to look. Mybottom was throbbing like a police beacon. I listenedto the methodical swishes and thwacks as my best

9chum was being beaten bandy. I was in no doubt thatI had a long and miserable night ahead of me.

3A Pink SlipI slip out of bed and go over to pour somecoffee. My poor old bum is giving me some seriousgyp.I am just starting to sip my java when Debscomes into the study. She is dressed in shorts, asinglet and running shoes. She has her hair pulledback into a pony-tail underneath a baseball cap.“Good morning,” I say rather timidly, “how areyou feeling?”She glares at me. “Actually, thanks to you, Ihave a severe case of the residuals,” she snaps.“I’m sorry,” I tell her hurriedly. “I’ll go andfetch the laundry.” I decide that it might be prudentto keep out of her way until after she has showered.I pull on my red and black striped silk dressinggown and hurry out onto the landing. The pigeonholeswhere our laundry is returned are at the far endof the corridor.I stop at Deborah’s slot and fish out a neatlyfolded blouse in plastic packaging and another packetcontaining her bumbags, socks and several items of

11athletic clothing. We are only required to hand in thelight items each night. Heavier items of clobber suchas blazers, skirts, gymslips and ties are cleaned overthe weekends. Having retrieved Deborah’s freshlylaundered clobber I go over to my own pigeon hole.I cannot believe my eyes. There is a singlepackage containing my underwear and socks. Tapedto the front of the package is a pink slip. My heartsinks. Written in neat script is ‘See me promptly at0800 hours … Katie Beck … Unit Matron’.I trudge back down the landing. I cannotbelieve my misfortune. I really don’t remember howmuch attention I paid to my clobber last night beforeI stuffed it in the laundry bag and shoved it down theshute. I was too busy chatting on-line with the Foxyone.I could kick myself for my own stupidity.Unfortunately I am what is known as at theunit as ‘Clobber-challenged’, which is a polite term fora scruffy individual. It is not that I don’t care aboutmy appearance but no matter how hard I try I alwaysseem to look like I have been dragged through ahedge backwards. I have always envied gals likeNixdown and Claire who seem to get through everyday looking immaculate.I don’t understand it, I can put on clobber thatis in perfect repair in the morning and by the time Iget ready for bed buttons have inexplicablydisappeared or got chipped, seams will have comeunstitched and I will find all kinds of marks andblemishes on my blouses that need to be treated.Of course one would think that armed with thisknowledge I would be super-vigilant in my clobberinspection before handing it into the laundry.

A Life in the Day of Rosemary BookerLaundry is one of the few services that is stillout-sourced to a third party contractor. Katie Beck,the be-yotch matron at the unit, has them trained toinspect every item that passes through their hands forsigns of disrepair. They are extremely thorough andevery minor imperfection is documented andphotographed.A few months ago it was exposed that Katiehad put the inspectors on weekly quotas and giventhem the names of specific targets for extra-closeinspection. Apparently she had threatened toterminate their contract if they failed to meet herquotas. As a result the inspectors had embarked upona button-busting spree and every morning gals whowere certain that they had carefully inspected theirclobber before handing it in found themselvesreceiving pink slips in the morning.Katie Beck is as sly as a fox and so low thatshe can sneak under a door when she is wearing atop hat. She targeted the most notoriously clobberchallengedinmates to avoid suspicion.Every morning several gals were summoned toher lair to take a trip over her knee to have theircirculation kick-started with her leather slipper.Unfortunately I was one of her prime targets andspent many hot and sweaty minutes face down arseup over her knee.Her scam was finally exposed when she madean error of judgment and targeted Claire Brooksclobber for some button-busting. Claire is a clotheshorseand at the time she held the enviable record ofbeing the only gal in the history of the unit who hadnever been slippered for clobber abuse.

13Picking on Claire proved to be a calamitousmistake for Katie as it caught the attention of theGrand Master. Claire was actually spread out acrossKatie’s lap with her skirt back and her bumbagsasunder when Mr Humphries intervened. Apparentlythe inspectors were not a loyal bunch and hadsnitched out Katie in a heartbeat.What followed was a wonderful moment inWoody history. We were summoned to the assemblyhall and were shortly treated to the sight of Katiebeing hauled up on to the stage. She had changedout of her crisp white matrons uniform and wasdressed in full clobber including an indecently shortgymslip with a ‘K’ embroidered on the bib.We are not a vindictive bunch of gals by naturebut we whooped and cheered when Mr Humphriesput Katie over his knee, flipped back her skirt, rolleddown her bumbags and gave her twenty-four mightyspanks with her own leather-soled slipper. The soundof the slipper rebounding off her bum was music toour ears.Katie’s misery wasn’t over. She was placed onfull clobber probation and her arch-enemy Cat Cassidywas assigned as her Probation Officer. Cat had to signoff on all clobber abuse slipperings and generallygave Katie a very hard time. Nonetheless despite ourglee at seeing Katie getting her well-deservedcomeuppance there is a downside.Since she was finally released from months ofprobation Katie has become more prudent and thesedays when you get a pink slip you know for sure thatyou are bang to rights. For reasons not yet clear to

A Life in the Day of Rosemary Bookerme there is no doubt I am shortly due for a rumproasting.

4Queen Be-yotchDeborah scowls at me as I return with thelaundry; she is clearly in a snit with me for causingher to get another six on the silks. I toss herpackages on her bed and do the same with mine.Debs takes in the situation. “Oh my gawd,Rosie,” she squeals. “That really sucks.” Her tone haschanged to one of sympathy and concern She comesover and hugs me. This is classic Debs behavior. Sheis so incredibly mercurial and her mood can change ina heartbeat.“You go and shower,” she insists. “I’ll lay outyour clobber and check it for you.”I take a shower in double quick-time, puttingon a plastic cap, as I won’t have time to dry my hair.I hurry back into the main room where Debs iscarefully inspecting every inch of my fresh clobber. Ilook over at the clock. It is a quarter to eight. I needto cut along sharpish.

A Life in the Day of Rosemary BookerThe main building of the Woody Back to SchoolUnit is a red brick Tudor mansion that was originallybuilt by some fat cat loan shark who made his fortunesponsoring pirate ships to go off in search of Spanishbooty. It is an enormous building with four wings thatare connected by a labyrinth of hallways and staircases.When I first arrived at the unit I used to getlost in this bewildering maze but now I know it likethe back of my hand.Katie’s lair is in the tower at the corner of thenorth wing. Even stretching my legs it will take almostten minutes to get from the Phase Six landing to thelair. Running in the corridors is strictly forbidden andattracts a mandatory visit to the library for six of thebest. I speed-walk without breaking into an actualrisky trot. It is not that I am in any hurry to beslippered but I know that if I am even a few secondslate Katie will write me up for tardy time-keeping andgive me an extra few spanks.I hurry up the stairs of the tower. On the verytop landing the area has been re-modeled into twooffices, the Grand Master’s vast study with viewsover-looking the sweeping Sussex Downs, and Katie’slair.I approach Katie’s door and knock. I feel anunpleasant tightening in my stomach as I wait to besummoned.Katie is seated behind her desk with her feeton the table and her bumbags on display. She isdressed in a crisp white uniform that she leavesunbuttoned enough to display her shapely breasts.

17Katie Beck is tall and slender with exceptionallylong legs and a narrow waist. She has strong featuresand her face is framed by thick dark hair. She isunreasonably beautiful and she knows it. She is alsothe Queen-Beyotch in a community that has morethan its fair share of the specie.Katie Beck first came to public attention whenshe was the defendant in a showcase trial thatgarnered headlines and captivated the GreatUnwashed.She was accused of being the FemaleCommandant of a criminal gang known as theConfederacy of Yoofs.She was charged with numerous crimesincluding extensive torture of several of her gang whohad not met her expectations. Katie pleaded notguilty and refused to even acknowledge the existenceof the Yoofs.In very short time it became clear that theprosecution’s case was going tits up. Key witnessesmagically disappeared into the ether or simply refusedto respond to cross-examination. Katie was regularlyphotographed looking smug at the defense table asshe watched the case against her fall apart.However, the authorities were not about to letKatie loose to reap further havoc amongst thecommunity and without warning the trial wasstopped. Shortly afterwards it was reported that shehad been sentenced under the new ‘Anti-Ladette’laws and had been shipped off to the Woody Back toSchool Unit.When I started my sentence Katie Beck hadbeen appointed as Red-shirt. Her unlikely rise to

A Life in the Day of Rosemary Bookerpower was at least partly due to the fact thatsomewhere along the way her parents had been killedin a car-accident. Ms Lawton had stepped in andassumed the role of Katie’s Court Appointed Guardian.She had promoted her ward under the misguidednotion that giving Katie a position of authority mighthelp curb some of her more anti-social tendencies.This might well go down in history as Ms Lawton’sultimate act of folly. Katie was a tyrant.Working as a Grubby on the Elite landingoffered me a birds-eye view of Katie’s activities. Beinga grubby on Katie’s watch was not much fun. She hadsurrounded herself with a group of psychopathic andsycophantic bum-sniffers and formed them into agroup known as the Secret Sorority of SerialSpankers, better known as the SS.She advocated sporting spanking, which meantthat our mentors could dust us liberally whether wedeserved it or not. She instituted numerous heinouspractices such as collaring and sweating. She was theultimate Queen-Beyotch and was bitterly despised. Ioverheard her bragging that she would thrash everyinmate at the facility within her first hundred days ofoffice. According to the records she achieved her goalin half the target time.After she completed her sentence she brieflydeparted to some college but within twelve monthsshe had some how ingratiated herself back into unitlife as the new matron. Her portfolio included thestrict enforcement of the Politics of Clobber. Over theyears she has made umpteen revisions to theprotocols that give her carte blanche to slipper awayto her Whop Junkie’s hearts content.

19She picks up a blouse off the desk and tossesit at me. She raises an eyebrow archly.“This garment is a disgrace,” she announces inher be-yotch voice.

5InspectionI give the blouse a quick once-over. “Looksfine to me,” I say her tightly. The truth of the matteris that it doesn’t matter much what I think.“Looks fine? Are you blind Booker? Take aclose look at button F3, it’s significantly cracked andshould have been replaced,” she snaps at me.I know the drill and understand her code.Button F3 is the third front button counting downfrom the top. As I mentioned earlier everything atWoodys is governed by rules, regulations andprotocols that often include obscure codes andcyphers. We have more rituals than the CatholicChurch.Katie is leaning back in her chair with afiendish grin on her mush. I contemplate the wisdomof reaching over and flipping up the heels of hershoes so that she takes a tumble and lands on herfool noggin. Unfortunately this course of action woulddoubtless result in me being wheeled up on stageduring morning assembly for a public flogging. Theprospect of bending over a vaulting horse for twelve

21meaty swipes of the senior cane is even lessappealing than the trip across Katie’s knee I amscheduled to make in the next few minutes so I resistthe temptation.I roll my eyes and take a closer look at theoffending button. Significantly cracked is something ofan exaggeration but there is no disputing that there isa hairline fracture although it is hardly noticeableunless you were using a magnifying glass or ajeweler’s loupe. Knowing Katie that is exactly the typeof kit that she requires her laundry inspectors to beequipped with.I grunt and toss the blouse back on her desk.“Do you wish to appeal Booker?” she asks. Katiecontinues to grin as she swings her long legs off thetop of the desk and stands up. She already knows myanswer before I shake my head.Now one could argue that being slippered forhaving a minor crack on a button is ridiculous.However Katie’s counter-argument will be that I amnot actually being punished for the damage to thebutton but the failure to take the time to properlyinspect my clobber last night before handing it in.The Grand Master is a reasonable chap andhas made numerous revisions to the protocols toremove many of the more trivial misdemeanors andinfractions from the list of offences that were reclassifiedas ‘Zero-tolerance’ during OperationScorched Arse. However, by and large, the Politics ofClobber have survived and remain intact. He supportsthe notion that it is not an unreasonable burden on

A Life in the Day of Rosemary Bookerour time to make a thorough check of our clobberand make routine repairs.I suspect that whilst an appeal might garnersome sympathy it would ultimately fall on stonyground. The consequence of a lost appeal is thatKatie will be authorized to give me a double dose ofthe slipper. It is not an option that I choose topursue.I will just have to put it up, keep it up, suck itup and then move on.“Hands on your head,” Katie barks as shecomes around the desk.I know the form. I raise my arms and inter-linkmy fingers on the top of my head.Katie approaches me. In her high-heels she issignificantly taller than me. She steps in close andstares down at me. She is so close that I can smellher perfume and body-soap.She reaches out and begins the laboriousprocess of clobber inspection. Even though Deborahwas kind enough to perform a complete check while Iwas showering this is still a nerve-wrackingexperience. I am scheduled to get twelve spanks withthe slipper for the initial clobber abuse and in theevent she finds further flaws I will get an additionalthree spanks for each offending item. My bottom isextremely sore from last nights caning and theprospect of being slippered is already galling enough,I close my eyes and pray to the many gods that shedoes not find any reason to extend my misery.Clobber inspection is a laborious process. Onceshe has finished with my blazer I am required to take

23it off and set it aside. I flip the shaft of my tie overmy left shoulder and return my hands to the top ofmy head.Katie works methodically, inspecting everystitch and seam, muttering ominously to herself. Shewill not inform me of her findings until the inspectionis complete. I do my level best to remain calm as shecluck-clucks and tut-tuts in a manner purposefullydesigned to unnerve me.After several minutes she steps in front of meand to my relief announces that I am clean.“Go next door,” she snaps.Next-door is an anteroom adjacent to her mainoffice. There are numerous filing cabinets and otheroffice furnishings that she uses for her administrativeduties. In the center of the room is a wood-toppeddesk.I reach under my skirt and roll down mybumbags and then after gathering up the hem of myskirt I stretch out across the desktop.Of all the many indignities that we aresubjected to at the unit this may well be the worst.Katie takes her own sweet time before shedeigns to come into the anteroom to complete thishumiliating process. I hear her heels clipping on thewood floors.“Whoa,” she squeals with obvious delight asshe looks down at my still striped behind. “These arestill sizzling.”She claps her hands and then begins to pinchand prod me. I consider kicking back and giving her agood hack on the shin. I hate that be-yotch.

6Kick-Starting My CirculationOnce we are back in the main office Katie armsherself with one of her collection of leather soledslippers and goes over and sits down on a straightbacked,armless chair. She wiggles her finger andbeckons me over.I take up position to her right andunenthusiastically offer her my left wrist. She givesmy arm a sharp tug and I begin my downwarddescent across her lap.Once I am over and up I spread myself outinto what is known as the ‘Full Drape’. Only the tips ofmy fingers and toes are touching the floor. My weightis fully supported by Katie. She begins to rearrangemy clothing.Somewhere in the proceeding Katie managedto have the protocols changed so that she isauthorized to slipper us on the bare bum. I feel mybumbags being rolled down until they areconcertinaed around my ankles. She puts her left armaround my waist and tugs me in tightly to the crease

25of her lap. I am now fully exposed and utterlydefenseless.“There is nothing better than a dose of theslipper to give the circulation a good kick-start in themorning,” she chuckles. This is Katie Beck’s standardmodus operandi. Throughout the slippering she willyak and gab and interject the proceedings with hersnide comments.She slams the sole of the slipper down on myright buttock, knocking the breath out of me.It would be an understatement to say that Ihate this vile and odious specimen of humanity.Nonetheless, I have to admit that I have a grudgingrespect for her capabilities as a disciplinarian. WhenKatie Beck has a slipper in her hand she knows whatshe is doing.Katie is fond of informing us of the provenanceof her chosen instruments of pain and torture. Shemaintains a standing order with a vendor from theAthens Plaka for the supply of her slippers. They arenot actually slippers; they are handcrafted Spartansandals with the cording removed. She has themdesigned so that the heel fits neatly into the palm ofher hand and the soles are slightly over-sized.Even without suffering from the after effects ofhaving my bottom beaten with Claire’s lethal cane theslipper would certainly get my full attention. I don’tknow how Katie keeps in such good shape. Shespends most of her off-duty hours flaunting her waresin the saloon bar of the Bunch of Grapes.

A Life in the Day of Rosemary BookerShe slams the slipper down a second timecausing my ankles to twitch. She cackles.“I remember the first time I laid eyes on you,Booker, you were just such a goddamn mess, I justknew it was in our destiny to spend some quality timetogether,” she informs me cheerfully and slams theslipper down for a third time.The slipper is a very different animal from thecane and the sound on impact explodes in my ears.Generally the slipper mainly causes flesh burn but asyou may recall I am suffering from the residualeffects of six on the silks and my glutinous maximusmuscles are not in the best of shapes. My bodyresponds to the hearty spank as if I am a pachinkomachine. I cannot help but buck and squirm in herlap.Katie cackles like Cruella DeVille. When she isnot relieving the local lothario’s from their hardearnedsthis is Katie Becks idea of fun.She is determined to take her time and get herjollies; she rubs the sole of the slipper over each ofmy buttocks muttering “eeny-meeny-miny-moe”,before bringing down the slipper on my right buttockwith a deafening report.I wriggle and squirm some more. She chucklesagain. She pulls me back into her lap.“Stretch out properly Booker and stop beingsuch a muff,” she taunts me.My blood boils as much as my bum is boiling. Itry to gather myself and not becomediscombobulated. Just as I am maneuvering myselfback into a full drape she unexpectedly whaps me

27twice on my left cheek, one on top of the other inquick succession.I cannot help but punch the air and kick mylegs.“Gotcha!” she gloats.Despite the pleasure she would gain fromkeeping me in my head down, arse up position ofacquiescence for an extended period of time shesenses that she can nail me and rains down six hardspanks in quick succession. I am totally giddy and allI can think of is that I will never let her make mehowl or blub. In seconds it is all over and I am lefthanging over her lap panting.“Oh my, that was just so much fun,” shecackles.I am too out of breath to respond.

7Emergency Repair Crew“You are such a complete mess, Booker,” Katiegloats as I totter out of her study feeling like adrunken sailor on shore leave. I resist the temptationto point out that it is hardly surprising that I am notlooking my best considering I have just spent a mostunpleasant ten minutes wriggling and squirmingacross her lap like a hooked fish whilst having mybum pummeled with a leather-soled sandal.The hallways are beginning to fill up as galsprepare themselves for another day at Woodys. I nodat a few chums as I hurry along. Despite my bestefforts to appear nonchalant I can’t help noticing thatseveral gals give me knowing glances andsympathetic smiles.It is not surprising really. It is very hard todisguise the after-effects of a damn good drubbing.The stiff legged gait and the slightly haunted look inthe eyes are always tell-tale signs. The fact that Ihave my hands thrust deep in the pockets of myblazer is also a dead giveaway. This is standard MO to

29avoid the temptation of committing the cardinal sin inmuffish behavior of publicly rubbing.Generally at this time of the morning I head tothe cafeteria and enjoy a leisurely breakfast but rightnow tucker is the last thing on my agenda. I painfullyclimb the stairs and make my way to the Phase 6landing where I am quite sure that the emergencyrepair crew will be waiting.I am not disappointed. Debs, Nixdown and Jojoare in the study, lounging about drinking coffee. A potof one of my most therapeutic balms is sitting out ona side table.In some walks of life I suspect the idea of lyingacross your best chum’s lap with your skirt hiked upand your bumbags around your ankles might beconsidered a tad queer. Quite probably a few yearsago, when I was going about my business on CivvyStreet, I would have shared that opinion. But this isWoodys and chums performing emergency repairs toeach other’s swollen bums is an everyday occurrence.Debs seems to have gotten over her snit, atleast temporarily, and makes sympathetic noises asshe gently massages my poor beleaguered bum. Jojoand Nix hover over me inspecting the damage andidly exchanging sage observations. This is anothercustom that some strata’s of society might find a littlepeculiar, however around here it is common practiceto dissect every punishment in minute detail.Jojo and Nixdown are respected pundits in allmatters related to whops and I can’t help noticing a

A Life in the Day of Rosemary Bookertone of grudging admiration for Katie’s handiwork intheir learned observations.“She’s a fucking be-yotch,” is all I can think ofto add to the conversation. Despite Deborah’s kindministrations my bum is still on fire. It is going to be along day.The ominously threatening expression that ‘I’mgoing to thrash you so hard that you won’t be sittingdown comfortably for a week’ generally proves to bean exaggeration. Nonetheless, lowering mysitmedown onto a hard and unyielding wooden seat isnot an appealing prospect.On weekdays we spend eight thirty-five minuteperiods per day in the lecture rooms. There is nodenying that the curriculum that Ms Lawton designedis remarkably broad and all encompassing. Thequality of the lecturers that she recruited is quiteexceptional and considering the circumstances wefind ourselves in there is little room for legitimatecomplaints of boredom. However, there is plenty ofroom for complaint regarding the furnishings sheselected for the lecture rooms.Apparently the desks and chairs are a hand medown from the original Woody School. The schooloriginally opened sometime back in the 1850’s and Ithink that these torturous monstrosities must havebeen amongst their first acquisitions.The problem with being walloped with a slipper(well one of them anyway) is the area that it covers.Now I am the first to acknowledge that when one ofthe Woody Wags remarked that ‘using a size ten

31slipper on a size two bum is hardly sporting’, she wasnot referring to me.No matter how much I shift my weight Icannot find a position that extends me much comfort.I even try to cross my arms across the desk lid andraise myself up onto the balls of my feet so that mybum is not actually supporting my weight but that iseven more uncomfortable, so I slump dismally backonto the unyielding wooden seat and do my best toconcentrate on Ms Gascoigne’s lecture on thepotential existence of an obscure but influentialseventeenth century Bavarian cult called the Illuminatiand its potential influence on current worldeconomics. Say what you like about Woodys it isnever boring. My bum feels like it has swollen up tothe size of Melanie White’s gazonka’s. It was mostdistracting.

8BottomOn my first day at Woodys I was introduced tothe gal who had been assigned as my personalmentor during the first year of my sentence. Hername was Sophia Zurgo and she was of Neapolitandescent. I vaguely remembered her from art-housemovies I had watched on cable-TV. The first thing shedid after we were introduced was to put me over herknee and spank me.This might not seem a particularly polite wayto start a relationship but as a means of establishingthe hierarchy it is extremely effective.I had entered Woodys with a relatively virginarse. My chaps had never spanked me and theschools I attended had not practiced any form ofcorporal punishment. My experience of having mybum whapped was limited to a sponsored spankingthat I participated in that not only benefited severalworthy charities but also offered considerablepromotional opportunities for my burgeoningcompany Bookers Balms.

33Being spanked live on TV may seem an oddadvertising ploy for a holistic therapy enterprise butto develop a successful business one must exploit anyopportunities presented.My particular opportunity arose after I hadappeared in an all-female amateur theatricalproduction of a Midsummer’s Nights Dream. I wascast as Bottom the Weaver.Some perv from the skank-rags, who I mightadd did not comment on my exemplary actingperformance, thought it was witty to dub me ‘Rear ofthe Year’. I did not know whether to be flattered ormortified. All my life I had been joshed and teased bymy chums about my rather noticeable protuberance.As it happened the ill-mannered maggot did me afavor.A jeans company contacted me and offered mea contract to model their jeans with Bookers Bumembroidered across the seat. The logo was suitablydesigned so that from a distance it looked interchangeablewith my company name. Quite quickly‘Miss Rear of the Year’ found herself in populardemand on breakfast chat shows. In return forallowing me to extol the virtues of my mystical balmsI was generally required to bend over for thecamera’s to show off my wares. Hardly dignified butsales were booming.The sponsored spanking was the brainchild ofa marketing guru for a charitable foundation. Viewerscould pledge ten squids a spank for the pleasure ofseeing me being put over the knees of a variety ofcelebrities. Once again this was hardly a dignifiedprocess but by the end of the spankathon my

A Life in the Day of Rosemary Bookerfinancial advisors were encouraging me to take mycompany public.Although I cannot pretend to have enjoyed theexperience of being publicly spanked I must confessthat I hardly suffered any more than the most minordistraction when it came to the soreness department.Shortly afterwards the Forsham-SmytheCorporation offered to buy me out. Their offer wasextremely generous and I was advised to sell.However, I learned that they intended to reduce thequality of the products that I had spent yearsdeveloping and planned to flood the market with substandardgoods bearing my logo. I turned them downand within weeks found myself arrested and beingparaded through the streets in handcuffs and anklemanacleswhile still dressed in my pajamas. The DarkAgents move fast and within hours I found myself ata haberdashery being fitted for clobber.By some standards Sophia was not a bad sortand I don’t think that she dusted me too thoroughlythat first day. I think my pride was hurt as much asmy bum and I was somewhat bewildered by theunexpected experience.An enormous amount of ink in the press hadbeen dedicated to the success of the Back to SchoolUnits, particularly about Woodys due to the numberof so-called Celebrity Ladettes who had beendispatched to the facility for Extreme SocialRehabilitation. Nonetheless, the governmentpropaganda machine released very few actual detailsof what went on behind the high walls thatsurrounded the huge campus. I had never read a

35single article that gave me any indication that nosooner had I entered through the heavy gates Iwould find myself sprawled head down arse up acrossthe lap of a young woman barely two years olderthan I was at the time.Later that evening I would learn that I was notalone in astonishment at being introduced to theextraordinary concept of ‘Training Spankings’.After spending a full day in the company ofSophia, alternating my time between standing facingthe wall and poring over a tome that contained therules, regulations and protocols of my new home, Iwas escorted to the Grubby Dorm.This was a long Spartan room furnished withtwelve beds, lockers and side-tables. There was noprivacy, not even a curtain between each bed. Thiswould be where I slept for the next four years.Each new intake is comprised of twelveinmates. I recognized several from the newspapersand of course we all recognized Debs who was one ofthe most famous women in the world. We allintroduced ourselves nervously and of course theconversations turned to the spankings we had allreceived. There was an atmosphere of considerableindignation and also some trepidation in the dorm.I don’t know whether I was joking or justtrying to be comforting but I blurted out, “But it wasonly whops.” They looked at me is if I had two headsbut that unplanned observation has followed mearound for years and created the myth that I amimpervious to pain.

A Life in the Day of Rosemary BookerI can assure you I am not and my bum issmarting most disagreeably. The hard seat is nothelping.

9The Big BUTTDuring the second lecture of the day Jojo gotthe cane. This is not a particularly unusual occurrenceas Joanna Heyworth holds the title at the unit as theAll-Time Big BUTT. This rather unflattering acronymmeans that she ranks as numero uno on the BottomsUp Table of Troublemakers, a status that is widelycoveted and revered around this joint.What makes this routine affair noteworthy isthat Jojo had the grave misfortune to be beaten byPatricia Hodge. Patty is a woman with absolutely noredeeming factors and she is such an awful be-yotchthat she makes Katie Beck seem halfway human.The cause of this unfortunate affair was Jojo’sunwise choice to interject a little light humor into theproceedings. Well I thought it was funny anyway. Theproblem was that only seconds prior to Jojo’s pithyretort Patty had announced that, “the next gal tospeak out of turn will be bending over for six”.Speaking from painfully acquired knowledge Ican assure you that bending over for six from Patty is

A Life in the Day of Rosemary Bookeran experience to be avoided. As soon as Jojo openedher mouth my heart sank.“Step up Heyworth. Remove your blazer andstep up this instant, I intend to beat you bandy,”gloated Patty. She was grinning from ear to ear.This is what makes Patty so despicable. Shemakes absolutely no effort to disguise her glee at theopportunity to cut a perfectly good pair of navy bluegossamer bumbags to tatters.A rather somber atmosphere pervades theroom as Jojo pushes back her chair and rises to herfeet. We may be whop-hardened veterans but noneof us care to witness a Patty thrashing. My tummy isdoing somersaults in sympathy for my chum.Jojo unfastens the top button of her red andblack striped blazer and shrugs it off before hanging itacross the back of her chair. She looks serenelycomposed as she steps out from behind the desk. Ithink I might be more nervous than she is. Jojo isfearless.I might hate the be-yotch but I am forced toconcede that Patty Hodge is an incredible specimen.She must stand five-feet ten in her stockinged feetand tops six-feet in her trademark high-heels. Shehas flame red hair and piercing green eyes that mayor may not be cosmetically enhanced for greatereffect. She is always immaculately dressed in tailoredsuits and her skirts are always slit up the side todisplay her long and shapely legs. She may be thewrong side of fifty but she still has no shortage ofadmirers amongst the local lothario’s who flock to buyher drinks in the saloon bar of the Bunch of Grapes.

39She fixes Joanna with her gimlet glare as sheapproaches. “Bend over the desk,” she says in thatclipped voice that sounds like it could cut throughglass.“I know the form, Ma’am,” responds Jojocalmly without the slightest hint of fear in her voice.While Jojo slides her upper torso across thepolished top of the front desk Patty unhurriedly takesoff her jacket and rolls up the sleeves of her silkblouse. She crosses the room and opens the door to atallboy. Inside is an impressive array of canes, allneatly racked like a collection of billiard cues. Shemakes a considerable drama of selecting the stickthat she will use for the current mission. She tests outtwo or three by flexing them between her hands andswishing them through the air before announcing,“this will do nicely”. All the while she continues tosmile gleefully.The canes that Patty favors are from the newgeneration in cane technology. The thirty-six inchlong rattan shafts are housed in straight-run nylonhandles that are covered with red and black stripedleather. According to the advertising literature thataccompanies them they pack twice the smart for halfthe effort. You might ask yourselves how I know thistrivia but the Silver Fox has invested in several ofthese items in preparation for our scheduled vacation.Interestingly the brochure from the bespoke canemakerlocated in Dublin claims that every cane hasbeen quality tested in real-life situations and comewith a one-year warranty. One has to wonder who

A Life in the Day of Rosemary Bookerparticipates in the quality tests. Certainly an unusualcareer choice if you ask me.What makes Patty’s canes unique is that shehas the tips customized so that the last four inchesare split into a wye. They leave marks like a brandingiron.Jojo is laid out across the desk with her armsstretched out and her chin resting on the surface ofthe desk. This is another Patty contrivance to makebeing beaten even more beastly than necessary. Shelikes her victims to be facing the audience so thatevery nuance and expression of anguish can besuitably witnessed. She is such a fucking be-yotch.Despite my sympathy and jitters for my chumone thing is certain; Patty will have her work cut outif she is hoping to get any satisfaction from Miss Jojo.I exchange glances with Nixdown and Debs. Weshare a collective sigh. We all know that we are aboutto witness a battle of the titans.Patty steps in and slowly folds back Jojo’s skirtand the tail of her crisp white blouse. Once she issatisfied she sets her feet and takes her measure withthe tip of the cane. Jojo closes her eyes and pursesher lips. The cane taps down three times then Pattyraises her arm and brings it down swiping.The report of the cane rebounding off my dearchum’s bumbags echoes around the room like a rifleshot.Jojo barely flinches.

10Battle of the TitansEarlier this year Jojo won ‘The Great Spankoff’,an endurance spanking competition spread outover a period of a month. Winning a contest like thatamongst the whop-hardened veterans of the unit isno mean feat. Jojo was pitted against some toughcompetitors including Rachel Cox, the Minxster andNixdown. She finally prevailed over Cassie Cassy in ashowdown that stretched both of them to the limits oftheir strength and fortitude.Time and time again Jojo has shown that shecan take a whopping and keep on bopping even whenshe is faced with a fearsome adversary as Ms Hodge.Patty Hodge may be a cruel and sadisticmartinet but she is damn good with a cane and that isvery important to the recipient. Patty’s consummateskills may not be of much solace when you areactually being whopped but they certainly help in theaftermath. Less skilled practitioners are more likely todeliver wrap-around’s, or high or low riders that canextend the recovery process unnecessarily.

A Life in the Day of Rosemary BookerNow that is not say that Patty might not landthe occasional low-rider and register it as‘unintentional’. Low-riders are particularly potent withthe cane landing across the fleshy and ultra-sensitivesulcus. According to the Brass Charter intentional lowridersare illegal (everything at Woodys is regulated),however there is a caveat that one unintentional lowrideris permitted during a series of six but it must beannotated in our punishment record books. In theevent that a second low-rider is delivered the beatingmust be terminated immediately.Patty is not about to try any of her moredevious tricks out on Jojo. Joanna and the GrandMaster are an item and although it is highly unlikelythat Jojo with snitch out Patty I doubt that the beyotchwould relish an interview with Mr Humphriesregarding any illicit activities.She will doubtless play it by the book and landsix across the sweet spot.Jojo continues to look impassive even thoughher arse must be sizzling from the scorching opener.Her eyes are closed and her mouth set as she waitsfor the cane to arrive again.Patty takes her own sweet time beforestepping back in and taking aim. Patricia Hodge usesa longer backswing than most dames but she neverseems to lose control of the shaft of the cane. Thesecond stroke arrives with an equally impressivereport. Jojo blinks and purses her lips tightly butother than that she does not show any reaction.

43Jojo’s lack of response might be disappointingto Patty but it will not stop her from getting her fix;she is a whop junkie of the highest order.My best chum, Debs, is researching a book onthis history of Woodys, dating back to its days as oneof the prestigious boarding schools in the nation.Thirty years ago Patty somehow finagled her way intobeing appointed Red-shirt. Deborah has managed tosolicit interviews with several luminaries of that era;including her own mother, Penny, Claire Brooks Ma,and none other than Ms Lawton herself. They all givechilling accounts of Patty’s reign of terror. She canedso many gals that she was simply known as ‘theThrasher’.Thirty years on she’s still getting her jollieswhupping arse.Deborah, Nixdown and I have all assumed thesame pose, leaning slightly forward in our chairs withour arms crossed on top of the desk lids. We watchwith learned eyes, checking that Patty doesn’t make asingle error that would allow an intervention.Nixdown is drumming her fingers on her desk.Her face is a picture of disgust. Nicola Jane may standalmost a foot shorter that Patty but she would thinknothing of rushing in and hacking the dame in theshins if Patty starts acting the bollocks.Sadly as I predicted Patty is delivering atextbook thrashing and as there is no question thatJojo left herself wide-open for whops there is little wecan do but observe.

A Life in the Day of Rosemary BookerJojo continues to show little or no reaction asthey proceed through the heart of the beating. Six ofthe best has many elements. Of course the openingshot serves as an important indicator as to how thenext few minutes are going to go down. If the firstone is a real scorcher then it’s a pretty good bet thatthings are not going to get much better.There are many gals amongst our communitywho were subjected to corporal punishment at schooland some of them recall that canings were oftenlimited to two or a maximum of three strokes. Thegeneral consensus seems to be that these shortercanings might have been quite painful and resulted insome residual soreness but were overall quitetolerable. They all agree that once you get past thethird stroke you are really addressing the heart of thematter and that the pain factor increases at analarming rate that is not necessarily commensuratewith the number of strokes. As I have only ever beencaned at Woodys where the standard punishment issix I am really unable to comment whether thesetheories have much veracity or whether they arebogus science. But the one thing that I can assureyou is that no matter how whop-hardened youbecome the one stroke you really dread is the closer.Patty wound herself up and set her feet. Jojocontinued to keep her eyes gently closed and hermouth set. She knew what to expect.KAPOW!!! Patty unwinds her arm and slices thecane through the air. It looks like she is intent oflifting Joanna clean out of her shoes and cutting herin two. Jojo’s shoulders jerked momentarily and for

45an instant her eyes opened wide but she never madea sound.After about a minute Patty turned Jojo’s skirtdown and gave her the release command. Joannapushed herself up from the desk and turned andfaced her nemesis.“So how as it Heyworth?” grinned Patty. “Hotenough for you?”Jojo looked into Patty’s eyes. She curled her lipcontemptuously. “Middling warm at best,” she saidboldly and turned on her heel to collect her prb forpost-processing.Way to go Sister!!!

11A Lady of KinkMercifully we get through the remainder of themorning without further incident. Although, justbefore lunch, our lecture was interrupted briefly whenwe heard an unmistakable sound echoing along thecorridors. Ms Sills, who was conducting our lecture,just sighed and trailed off. She knows from longexperience that our attention has been momentarilydistracted. Clearly somewhere along the hallway, inanother lecture room, some poor soul is beingabsolutely creamed. Ms Sills did not continue todiscuss the roguish shenanigans of Miss Becky Sharpuntil the distant beating had been fully executed.When the bell goes to announce the end ofmorning lectures I pack up my books and head-offback to the landing. Nixdown falls in beside me andslips her arm into mine.“How’s the bum?” she asks cheerily.“Actually it’s still smarting,” I grumble. “Katiereally put her arm into it and my bum wasn’t in greatshapes to start with.”

47She smiles sympathetically.This type of chatter about the state of eachother’s bums is quite normal at Woodys. It’s hardlysurprising, really, considering that on any given dayan average of half a dozen gals are required to bendover for a thrashing of one kind or another. A gooddeal of gab on the gossvine relates to who got whatfrom whom and all the gory details.Nixdown is always amongst the most curious.She is a rather strange cove in some respects. When Ifirst arrived at Woodys I suppose I was a little naïvein the ways of the world. Over the years I had readthe occasional article in the papers and magazinesthat referred to an eclectic strata of society whoindulged in BDSM activities. I never really paid thissubject much heed and I suppose I imagined thiscommunity was comprised of dodgy characterslurking about in darkened dungeons, tying each otherup and beating each other with whips. I was quitestunned when Nicola Jane quite openly announcedthat she was a member of this community. She didnot fit my mental model in any shape or form.Nixdown is a tiny little thing. She does notstand five feet tall, although she strongly disputesthis, and must weigh a hundred and five pounds. Sheis stunningly beautiful with flaxen hair, blue eyes andfull pouty lips. Although she eats like a horse, drinkslike a fish and smokes like a stack she has anhourglass figure. I have known her for nearly sixyears and have never known her to do any exerciseother than the periods of physical education we arerequired to attend as part of the curriculum.

A Life in the Day of Rosemary BookerIt was clear from the outset that she was aunique individual. She is beyond cynical andoutrageously funny. Nicola Jane had the misfortune ofbeing assigned to grub for Katie Beck who was theRed-shirt of the day. Nixdown had a terrible time of it.Jojo, Debs and I had got relatively lucky andour mentor’s were relatively benign. None of themhad joined up with Katie’s Secret Sorority of SerialSpankers and played it pretty much by the book.Throughout the whole year Sophia only gave me acouple of dustings and they were always welldeserved.Katie was different kettle of fish and shespanked Nix on a daily basis and often more thanonce. Most of these spanking were off-the-record andoccasionally she would illegally yank down NicolaJane’s bumbags and spank her on the bare. Thisearned NJ the nickname of Knickers Down Nixon,which was quickly abbreviated to Nixdown.Nix, being belligerent and pugnacious bynature, did not take kindly to Katie and to say theleast their relationship was acrimonious and Nix oftenhacked Katie in the shins and occasionally scratchedher face when things became particularly heated.Nix ranted and raved about Katie and theiniquity of a system that allowed a be-yotch like theRed-shirt to spank her. She was equally vocal aboutbeing spanked by the Dame’s in the lecture rooms. Itwas clear that Nixdown disliked authority and did notmuch care for being punished. So it was rathersurprising when one evening she confided that shehad seduced a member of the Elite. A ratherattractive young lady named Caroline Crowell. Even

49more astonishing was when Nixdown rolled down herbumbags and showed off the stripes on her bum fromthe caning she had allowed Caroline to give her.Nixdown was positively gushing with excitement.It was only then that it occurred to me that Ihad for the first time encountered a Lady of Kink.Nixdown did not stop with Miss Cromwell andset about boffing her way through any member of theElite that was not aligned with Katie. Most of theseyoung women had no natural inclination towardsbatting with their left hands but being banged uptwenty-four-seven for thirty-nine weeks a year can betedious.Nixdown established a reputation as a femmefatale and mistress of seduction, she was rarelyrefused and over the years she has accumulated acollection of scalps that make up a veritable who’swho of the Elite.Of course, now she has succumbed to anuncharacteristically monogamous relationship withPenny Ann Evans, who Nix refers to as her EnglishRose. They are a delightful couple and amongst myclosest chums.While continuing to indulge in her privatepenchant for pain she continues to rail against thesystem of formal punishment. Personally I can’t quitesee how she makes this differentiation. Nonethelessdespite her dislike of being caned by the Dames ormembers of the Elite she shows a lascivious interestin securing details about whops. When she suggeststhat we cut along to the canteen for lunch I resignmyself to being cajoled into giving her a whop bywhop account of my recent travails which you might

A Life in the Day of Rosemary Bookerremember began a little over twelve hours ago whenClaire Brooks bent Debs and I over the ends of ourbeds and thrashed the piss out of us.

12The Sound of SpankingSpeaking of Claire, we are crossing thequadrangle when we happen upon her. Nixdown andI exchange knowing glances. The mystery of whichpoor soul we had overheard being beaten bandy, notthirty minutes earlier, has probably been solved.Claire is dressed in one of the beautifully cutblock red hacking jacket style blazers that symbolizeher as a member of the Elite. She has her fists thrustinto the side-pockets and she is walking with anunmistakably straight-legged gait. Everything aboutClaire is naturally feline, her eyes, her nose, hermouth, the way she moves her tall slender body, sowatching her take slow steps is extremely noticeable.“Heyho Claire-bear,” calls out Nixdowncheerfully. “Looks like you’ve been in the wars.” As Isay Nix has a lascivious interest in these matters.Claire turns around. She smiles thinly. “Paulinebeat me fucking bandy,” she groans.Claire’s father is the Minister for Extreme SocialRehabilitation and is responsible for overseeing theadministration of the three main Back to School Units,

A Life in the Day of Rosemary BookerWoodys, Ripley and Radcliffe. Her mother is anoutspoken pro-corporal punishment advocate. She isregularly seen on TV preaching her mantra “there isno problem that can’t be solved by a sore bottom”.According to Claire it is family tradition that inthe Brooks household the first time that you arenaughty after your eighth birthday you are introducedto an over the knee bare bottom spanking with theoval headed, wood backed heirloom known as ‘BrooksBrush’. Claire likes to joke that she can’t have anyproblems as she has been suffering from a sorebottom for the past twenty years.She is well bred and well educated and is thepicture of genteel sophistication. She also curses likea sailor.“I’m trying to walk them off,” she tells ussomewhat unnecessarily. “I’m supposed to take agroup out on a ride in half an hour and the prospectof sticking my arse in a fucking saddle is not toofucking attractive.”Nixdown chortles. “You’ve got an arse like oldleather,” she says gaily. “”You remember all thosetimes that your Ma put you over her knee in themiddle of a gymkhana and whupped you with yourriding crop? We won a lot of competitions right afteryou’d been spanked.”Claire snorted but momentarily her eyestwinkled with amusement. Before having theirbumbags unceremoniously shipped off to Woodysthey were both equestrians on the national team andwere tipped to win gold at the Olympics. Nix has toldme numerous stories about Claire being dragged overmothers knees in front of the startled contestants and

53being spanked. According to Nix these affairs werealmost always as a result of Claire swearing herpretty, potty-mouthed little head off.“Thanks for the trip down memory lane,Nixxy,” she half-smiled, “but I’d better cut along. Youknow how hard Pauline canes and if I don’t keep onthe move I’ll stiffen up.”We nod understandingly and wish her goodluck. Twelve hours ago Claire Brooks beat my bottomsix times with a whippy stick but I do not bear her theleast bit of malice. That was her job and she did herwork efficiently with the minimum of fuss and nounnecessary unpleasantness. She is a chum and Ihope that her bum recovers quickly.The cafeteria is only just opening up forbusiness when we arrive and there are only two orthree other inmates collecting trays and getting readyto check out the contents of the usual sumptuousbuffet. This is probably good news for the poor soulin the kitchen who is receiving a very loud spanking,although right now I suspect that is the last thing onher mind.The five of us kind of just grind to a resignedhalt. This is one of the weird things about living atWoodys. Of course we regularly witness gals beingcaned, either in the lecture rooms, or when you aresent up to the Beaks office or the library to bethrashed alongside a chum, or when we are requiredto attend public floggings. However, one of the mostevocative elements of our lives is that the sounds andrituals of spanking and corporal punishmentconstantly surround us.

A Life in the Day of Rosemary BookerI remember during my grubby year when Iwould be scurrying hither and thither running errandsfor Sophia and you would be on the Elite landing andfrom behind a closed door you would hear the soundsof palm on bare flesh. It became second instinct tostop and kind of bow your head in sympathy beforegoing about your business.When we were still grubbies and only eligiblefor spankings down in the Brat Chamber our lecturesoften came to a halt as, like earlier today, the soundsof a cane, strap or slipper rebounding of some poorgals bum echoed along the corridor.It is routine to watch gals get red-carded outof the assembly hall or the recreational hall andwatching them slowly trudge off to their fate.When we moved out of the dorms and into ourtwo gal studies I can’t tell you how many times that Ihave just been drifting off to sleep when I have beenjarred awake by the ominous swish and thwack of anashplant slicing across red and black striped jimjamssomewhere along the landing.The sounds coming from the kitchen areunmistakable to the trained ear. Somebody is beingspanked with Dotty Hammell’s lethal wooden spatula.It sends a chill up my spine as only two weeks ago Ihad the misfortune to be hauled over her knee andhave my cargo pants dragged down. Dotty may be anabsolute dote and the darling of the Liberal Left butshe sure spanks hard.Nix and I wait patiently until the sixth spankhas landed then proceed to the salad bar. A fewminutes later Lisa Sutton totters out of the swing

55doors carrying a tray of soup cups. She has abewildered, shell-shocked look on her face.Nix and I exchange knowing glances andcontinue with our selections.