Life at Ferndale

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Patricia Brough was eight years old when she made her decision. It was not an epiphany, nor was it momentous. She merely accepted, at long last, the fact that she was exceptional and decided that to fulfil her ambitions she would hide the extent of her brilliance as her headmistress had suggested. The headmistress had carefully counselled her from her own experiences when she was Patricia’s age. The outcome was that Patricia had suddenly realised that she no-longer had to worry about being unique. Both she, and her headmistress had quickly become friends, and Patricia, for the first time in her young life, was now perfectly content with, who and what, she was. Her life until that time had been unhappy.

Her mother had once called her a genius, she had been so startled that she had immediately hated the sound of the truthful observation. Even at the age of four, she had calmly turned to her mother and informed her that if she ever called her that again, she would cease to speak to her.

At such a young age Patricia had completely understood that to be labelled or categorised would alienate her and single her out as being different. This was something that she wholeheartedly did not want.

Being accepted as a pupil at Ferndale was, in itself, cause for her mother’s unbridled joy at her daughter’s academic achievement. Fortunately for Patricia few people knew of the school or its excellent standing apart from perhaps a few of the admissions tutors at some of the top universities.

Patricia was now twelve-years-old and in her fourth year at Ferndale. She was seated on one of the several chairs facing the young and smartly dressed secretary to the headmistress, she observed that the only other occupant of the room was John Hinton. John was a tall and extremely handsome fifteen-year-old. Patricia knew of his reputation as an overbearing and very self-confident bully. She knew him to be reasonably bright and presumed that his bombastic behaviour was a result of his background. Most of the pupils were aware that his family were extremely rich and that his father doted upon the boy, virtually giving him everything he wanted. His father’s generosity had also extended towards Ferndale School, supplying the entire fees each year for a new scholarship student.

Patricia observed his utterly shameful posture as he sat with his head bowed looking down at his shoes, rather, she presumed, than face the pretty young secretary whom he knew, would already have detailed knowledge of his latest misdemeanour.

The Headmistress, Emma Goodman, was a young woman of twenty-seven. She was as bright and successful as she was beautiful. She had taken over the leadership of Ferndale from her mother who had founded the school when she herself was in her early twenties. The passing of the elite baton to her daughter just six years ago had been a smooth and seamless transition. Emma’s youthful energy and keen intellect had finally honed and finessed the school to the epitome of academic excellence. A goal to which her mother had aspired when she laid the foundation over twenty years ago.

Emma Goodman, when she had taken over as headmistress, had immediately examined the records of every pupil before she met them individually in an informal interview. She had little difficulty in recognising Patricia for what she was. By the first week of her tenure, she had moved and adjusted the young girl’s classes to accommodate every aspect of her education. Never once did she treat Patricia as a child, instead she became her mentor and, more importantly her friend. For Patricia, having someone who recognised her vast capacity to absorb and understand everything she was taught or that she read, freed her from feeling ill at ease at her advanced academic standard.

Emma had also looked to Patricia’s social life. Through the advice and help of her mother, she sent her to an exclusive Swiss finishing school for an intensive and comprehensive six-month course. The school belonged to a very close friend of Emma’s mother, and it was to Emma’s delight that all the fees were waived.

Emma’s adept progress in turning Patricia from a young girl who was wary of being labelled as an academic phenomenon, to a confident and happy girl who knew how to mix with her friends. She was soon accepted and became popular amongst her peers. Her transformation was as rapid as it was comprehensive.

As a specialised and optional course of the Swiss Academy, was the unpublicised and obscurely worded ‘Social and Psychological Emancipation Program’. Emma had stipulated that Patricia was to be thoroughly versed in every aspect of this course.

In reality, the program was scheduled as a ten-day intensive ‘Hands On’ experience. It included a detailed ‘physical contact’ examination of a young male. The intimate tutoring provided a comprehensive knowledge of a boy’s bodily reaction to stimulus, both mental and physical. Patricia soon realised that every course during the whole six months was accented in some way towards the superiority of the female.

During her time there, she had been expertly taught how to handle each of the five boys that the enterprising academy had seconded especially for the benefit of the academy girls’ education. The young English boys’ ages ranged from thirteen to sixteen. When she had finished the segment, she was assured by her tutors that her psychological and physical sexual knowledge was now just as prodigious as any highly paid mistress or professional sex-therapist.

At twelve years old Patricia had become as confident and socially mature as any experienced adult. She had delighted in being in control of such a varied and good-looking group of teenage boys. Each night she would make mental notes of the day’s lessons. How to touch and arouse, embarrass, and mentally and physically dominate the male sex. She had revelled in her mastery of the physical manipulative skills required to make them ejaculate so copiously that she had them shivering and writhing with a surfeit of sexual stimulation. Patricia had no need of notebooks. Everything was indelibly imprinted in her mind. Her incredible intellect and innocent demeanour, had allowed her to become far more adept than any of her fellow students, even though they were mostly seventeen or eighteen years old.

On one particular break during the program, Patricia was singled out from the rest of the girls at the behest of Emma Goodman, who was receiving daily reports of her progress. For four whole days, Patricia was shown how to administer discipline. The private mentoring delt with corporal punishment only. The excitement she experienced punishing each boy with a variety of implements and positions was a complete revelation to her. The sight of a young boy’s naked body writhing with anguish, had made her dizzy with excitement. It had stirred something deep inside her that she had never realised was there.

She knew at the very moment that she made a young boy reluctantly ejaculate well beyond his body’s normal endurance, or writhe helplessly under her cane, that she would need to experience it again and again.

As Patricia thought back, she realised how much she had learned.

The syllabus had taught her the importance of being able to dominate a boy by word as well as deed. This ability to further subjugate a boy, engulfing his senses under Patricia’s own carefully chosen scenarios, excited her immensely.

The strict stern female spanking his bottom or the sympathetic sister comforting him by word, while spanking him for his own good. Each word and deed drowning him under the female will, leaving him no escape, no sanctuary. Her unique ability to understand and remember the nuances of each act of harshness or censure juxtaposed with sympathy and kindness, quickly elevated her knowledge of how to completely dominate the male. Patricia wondered whether Emma had seen something in her, that she, herself, had not recognised. She had loved the humiliating wording of each situation.

“Fancy having to take you over my knees for a sound spanking, Robert. You know I will have to take a firm hold of your little marbles and your little peenie. I have to keep them out of harm’s way, so that wicked cane that swishes down on to your pretty bottom doesn’t hurt your little boy parts. Yes, I know it hurts sweetheart, but I have to cane naughty boys until they shed real tears, and lots of them too!”

Or perhaps.

“Don’t you feel embarrassed having a little girl like me holding your teeny-weeny penis and testicles while I cane your naughty bottom. Just to think, that when I take you over my knees, you have to look down at the floor, so you don’t know when another wicked stroke of my cane will come down hard upon the pretty pink cheeks of your bottom. It really must be awful for you! Never mind it will all be over soon.”

Patricia always practiced assiduously until each sentence was delivered with perfection, enunciated either with a strict authoritarian voice, or at other times with a soft caring inflection. Sometimes she would adopt a matter-of-fact tone, as if she was just doing her duty and seemingly hated to have to spend time punishing a young boy’s bottom. She would often treat an older boy as if he was much younger; a child rather than a teenaged boy. Patricia, as always, had remembered every word of every lesson.

She had got on really well with the other students at the exclusive Finir L’ecole de Geneve. They were all obviously from extremely rich families. The youngest of them was seventeen years old. Once they realised that Patricia was far more educated than any of them, they immediately made friends with her. They began to treat her like a little sister, spoiling her with shopping trips to the Rue de Rhone and taking great delight in buying and dressing her in a dozen new outfits.

Patricia’s realised in her recollections, that the final gap in her education, was filled not by her tutors but by her fellow students.

Money seemed to be a commodity that was in endless supply to the girls, and they derived great pleasure in dressing up the young girl. It was on the evening of her first shopping trip that the girls, all seven of them, descended on her bedroom to watch her try on the beautiful lingerie they had bought for her. One of the girls opened the two bottles of Champagne they brought with them and gave the first glass to Patricia. “One glass won’t do you any harm.” Patricia didn’t hesitate and found that she loved the taste and the bubbles. “Wow, now I know why Champagne is so Populaire!”

Natalie, the tallest and oldest, seemed to be the natural leader and enjoyed taking charge of Patricia. After parading her in the tiniest of panties and bra, she stripped the panties down and let her step out of them. Suddenly she cupped her hand over Patricia’s pubic mound. “Do you shave, or do you wax.”

Patricia giggled. “Neither I don’t have any hair yet.”

“Have you started having periods?”

“Sure, I started about nine months ago. They are very light, the nurse said I was one of the lucky ones.”
Natale, stroked her fingers gently over Patricia’s plump pudenda and smiled gently as Patricia shivered with the sensation of it.

“I get really sensitive there, I haven’t, you know, erm done anything about it yet.”

Natalie Laughed and turned to the rest of the girls. “Hey girls, we have a genuine virgin here, I mean untouched by human hand.” She laughed again. “That is untouched in any meaningful way.”

Suddenly a voice rang out. “OK girls, let’s get her!”

Patricia found herself surrounded by the girls. Within the next few seconds, she found herself laid on the bed with her legs held high in the air. She felt hands under her back as someone expertly deprived her of her new lace bra. The next hour was a blur as her whole body was caressed with their hands everywhere. Her first orgasm suffused her body in a pleasure that she could not contain. Her cries and moans were stifled as one of the girls kissed her, thrusting her tongue deep into her mouth as her lips enveloped hers.

Time after time the girls had brought her to a muffled and gagged climatic orgasm until eventually, she lay exhausted and satiated. Her beautiful young body lay still, almost as if floating on a cloud. Many hands were still caressing her, but now they were gentle and soothing.

Natalie bent over her and kissed her gently. “Welcome to adulthood my little wonder child. Just to think sweetheart we’ve got six months together. Do you think you could manage three orgasms per night for six months, Wunderkind?”

Patricia looked up at Natalie. “God, I feel all floaty and… oh just wonderful really.”

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Patricia dismissed her reminisces as she heard movement. She looked up and watched the trim young body of the headmistress’s secretary lean over her desk as the green light prompted her to reach for the telephone and to raise it to her ear. Patricia hoped that it would be to summon the boy rather than her, so that she might discover more of what she surmised would be at least a firm censure of his errant behaviour.

“You may go through now, Hinton. Please close the door behind you.” The secretary’s crisp Boston accent had the immediate effect of bringing the fifteen-year-old boy to his feet. Patricia knew that the opaque glass door revealed very little, other than a blurred image of the head’s office interior. However, she also knew that the single sheet of toughened glass was not entirely soundproof. She hoped that a little of their conversation would escape through to her ears. She watched the boy as he blushed and stumbled towards the glass door. He had glanced at her and to her delight she watched his face immediately deepen in colour.

She saw that he was familiar with the headmistress’s protocol as he knocked gently and opened the door without waiting. He walked swiftly though and closed the door firmly behind him. Patricia smiled to herself as she realised that he must have been summoned to that particular office at least once every week of this term. It suddenly dawned upon Patricia, that being summoned to the headmistress’s office at the same time as John Hinton, might not be a mere coincidence.

John caught sight of the young girl as he headed towards the door. He knew of her, as everyone at school did. She was incredibly pretty and incredibly bright, and John found her beauty and brains to be utterly intimidating even at her young age. He had spoken to her only once, to ask about a class, and yet he remembered blushing to the roots of his hair with embarrassment when she answered him like an adult would talk to a child. She had brushed her long ash-blonde hair away from her eyes and smiled gently in amusement at his embarrassed confusion.

As John entered, he realised that his cheeks were burning. He could not help the sudden mighty blush at the sight of his headmistress. As always, she was dressed impeccably. A sleek silk blouse, comfortably loose over her firm breasts but tightening subtlety to her slender waist. Her hair was drawn back severely and accented the contour of her fine jawline. Her grey-green eyes seem to observe him with an enquiring look. She stood up and placed her fingertips upon the leather surface of her desk. The sleeves of her blouse were folded back towards her elbows. The only adornment being a fine platinum watch upon her left wrist. Her beauty intimidated the boy, even at the best of times, but to be before her knowing that he was in trouble once again, made him feel small, gauche and completely humiliated.

Her first words deepened his embarrassment. Her voice was soft and bore no anger or emotion. “I have spoken to your father with a view to expelling you from this school. Pushing a smaller boy over so violently as to sprain his wrist is conduct that we cannot tolerate here at Ferndale. After a long discourse, I have come to an agreement with your father, and he has given his permission for me to deal with you as I see fit.”

She looked at the crestfallen boy and waited until he raised his head. “You are to be put on a regimen of strict control. Every aspect of your life here, from now until you graduate, will be carefully observed and stringently structured. I am arranging with your RA as well as another responsible student to closely monitor your activities. I have informed Mr. John Hinton Snr. of what I require to keep you here, and I have received his written permission this morning.”

Miss Goodman had watched his face flush to a bright red while she informed him of his future life at Ferndale. She opened her desk drawer and withdrew a single sheet of typed paper. She slid it across her desk so that the space for a signature was facing him.

“Read this and then sign it if you wish to stay at Ferndale.”

She had not thought that a boy’s face could become any more crimson, and yet his face was turning purple as he read the sheet. By the time he had finished, his cheeks were displaying splotches of even darker colouring. No wonder, Emma thought, knowing how explicit the wording of his supervision was.

She sat back down behind her desk and waited comfortably as she watched the boy struggling with the utter ignominy of his position. She could see that he wanted to speak and yet seemed unable to utter even one word. She observed his body suddenly shiver as he reached into his Blazer pocket and took out his pen. There was total silence in the room as he signed his name and then slid the paper across to his headmistress.

“Thank you, John.” She straightened her back and addressed him.

“So, John Hinton, this is your last chance. There will no other avenues if you mess this up. Your supervision is not a punishment, it is a remedy… and hopefully you will see it that way.”

The boy suddenly looked a little bit more relaxed, he presumed that this embarrassing interview was perhaps coming to a close.

Emma could hardly contain the thrill than ran through her slender body, knowing that her next words would humiliate the handsome young boy so profoundly, that his face would be back to a deep purple hue in no time.

“Now obviously I will have to punish you too, John. I find it a distasteful task and one that I wish I could forego.”

She watched his face suffuse with a deep red blush. He looked startled and deeply embarrassed. His bottom lip began to tremble, and she could see that his body shivered involuntarily. Emma could not wait to initiate her next course of action. But she knew she would savour each moment of the boy’s complete humiliation and debasement.

“I want you to strip. I want everything off before you bend over my desk for a sound spanking, shoes and socks first. Put your school uniform on the chair over there. You are to fold it neatly and tidily. Quickly now, I don’t have all morning to deal with little bullies that hurt their fellow students. Come along now, you have three minutes. After that you will receive one extra stroke for every second over your three minutes.”

She delighted in the boy’s utter shock at her pronouncement. For a moment he stood stupefied and then suddenly her words seemed to galvanise him into action. She watched as he quickly knelt down and begin to remove his shoes and socks. At least, she thought, he is smart enough to try and avoid further punishment. She watched his progress with delight. His face became redder and redder, until purple blotches punctuated the deep crimson. He turned his back to her as he got down to everything but his trousers and underpants.

She watched him fumble as he took off his pants, folding them carefully before he stood up, still facing the door. Hesitantly, he slipped his fingers into the waistband of his white underpants and pushed them down to his ankles. His firm, pale buttocks seemed to quiver as he clenched them together. Bending modestly, he retrieved his underpants from around his ankles and laid them on the chair. His legs were pressed tightly together as he placed his hands down in front of him.

Emma let him stay with his back to her while she admired his rear view. His body was as near perfect as any boy she had ever seen. Long thighs, well-muscled with smooth, almost hairless skin. His slim hips and slender waist widening upwards towards broad shoulders. Yes, she thought, a young Adonis.

She leaned forward and pressed the button on her telephone three times.

“Now John, turn around and face me.” She waited as he hesitantly turned his body towards her. His hands were clasped firmly against his genitals. His face was a deep purple hue, wreathed in utter embarrassment. He looked down at the floor, unable to look his beautiful headmistress in the face. For the first time, her voice was sharp.

“Lift your head and look at me, boy.” She watched him lift his head and his eyes widen in startlement at her sharp tone.

“Now, John, listen to me.” She placed her hands on the top of the desk as she sat primly looking into his eyes.

“I am going to introduce you to your supervisor: a student whom is far brighter and more mature than you will ever be. You will be under this student’s strict control. I have bestowed the right for your supervisor to administer corporal punishment as well as dispense other disciplinary measures. So, you had better be on your best behaviour from this moment on, as I can promise you, you will be very carefully watched.” She looked into his handsome face as he stood blushing profusely. His lips were trembling, and she was sure that there was a wetness in his eyes.

“Erm. Miss Goodman… erm, who will he be? I mean, my erm, supervisor.”

Emma Goodman looked at him as if he had rudely interrupted her. “All in good time, now be quiet. Stand where you are and put your hands on your head. If you remove them at any time, I will add to your punishment.”

Emma kept her back straight and looked him in the eye. “Well, what are you waiting for boy?” She could see his trepidation as he uncovered himself, raising his hands quickly, he placed them on his head. She looked at him, her head moving up and down in an obvious manner while she examined his naked body.

“Stand with your feet spread at shoulder width. You know the drill, just the same as in the gymnasium. Go to it boy!”

Her sharp command seemed to spur him into action. He quickly stood astride. He adopted the same posture that his gym mistress required of her boys at the start of their P.E. lessons.

“Now stay like that. That is if you want any skin left upon the cheeks of your bare bottom.”

She watched the boy shudder in dread at her pronouncement. She was delighted to observe his pale genitalia. His scrotum seemed quite pronounced, the bulge supporting the base of his thick penis. She was quite surprised at the size of it, seeming to be hung down heavily without being entirely flaccid. She examined his neat circumcision which allowed the tip to cheekily peep through the foreskin. She was very aware of his acute discomfort while her eyes rested, quite overtly, upon his bared penis and scrotum.

John could not believe the total humiliation of his situation. His cheeks were burning, and he knew that he was near to fainting with embarrassment. He shuddered as he heard someone knock on the outer door behind him.

Emma thrilled at the boy’s reaction to the knock on the glass door. His hands lifted upwards and began to hover above the top of his head, ready to dart down and cover himself once more. Her voice was firm. “Don’t you dare move.”

Patricia came into the study, her eyes widening at the sight of the naked boy. She eyed the beauty of the fifteen-year-old, as she stepped forward and deliberately stood next to him. She addressed her headmistress, looking straight ahead at the beautiful face of Emma Goodman. “You sent for me headmistress.”

Emma’s expression gave nothing away as she spoke to Patricia. “I have a problem with this young boy. I have agreed with his father to have the boy closely monitored. Apart from classroom time, he will not be allowed to be without supervision. I would like you to be his supervisor. That would mean starting from now. This is not an order, Miss Brough, it is a request that I would like you to think about while I dispense his corporal punishment. Would you do that for me?”

“Yes headmistress, of course. May I ask one question to aid my decision.”
Emma was impressed with Patricia’s cool assimilation of the request.

“Of course, Patricia, but let me see if my preparation has already answered it.” Patricia watched as Miss Goodman opened the drawer of her desk and slid several typewritten sheets of paper, already stapled together towards her. The cover page read: Supervision Requirements. Before Patricia could pick them up, Emma leaned forward and placed a neat golden coloured badge upon the cover-page. Patricia saw that the badge bore her name, with the word ‘Prefect’ underneath it.

“Thank you, Headmistress. That is a perfect answer. May I read while you carry on?”

“Yes of course, Patricia. Come and sit in my chair, this may take a while.”

Patricia moved around the desk as Emma Goodman vacated her chair and moved to the side and picked up the telephone handset. She pressed one of the buttons and spoke quietly for several minutes. She kept her eye on the naked young boy who was dreading the moment that the girl would raise her head and look at him. His body was already shivering with a combination of embarrassment and fear of his punishment.

Patricia began to read the requirements of the boy’s supervision. She worked out the study time she would have to give up as she quickly read each page. She realised that her training in Switzerland had prepared her ideally for the role she would have to adopt. By the time the head had finished her phone call, Patricia had finished reading… and, not surprisingly for her, had worked out a suitable timetable that she could easily manage.

She relished, what she knew would be the boy’s reaction, as she raised her head and looked at him straight in the eye. She could see that his embarrassment was profound. She was delighted when she suddenly realised from his expression, that he was submitting to her. His eyes were begging her not to look at him, not to embarrass him further. She ignored him as she began to examine every inch of him. She had expected him to be indignant at her cool appraisal, but instead his expression was as if he was begging her not to examine his shamefully bared body. She turned her head towards Miss Goodman and spoke to her while pretending to ignore the boy.

“I think what this young bully needs is a big dose of humility. Perhaps being under the authority of a twelve-year-old girl might provide just the right remedy for him.”

Emma smiled knowing that Patricia’s words were meant to instil further humiliation into the young boy. She saw that he had begun to tremble under the embarrassment of being made to stand naked, while Patricia visually examined every inch of him. She too realised that that the boy was so humiliated that he had not protested or become indignant.

John was unable to take his eyes from the young girl. There was something about her that intimidated him despite being only twelve years old. Her face was framed by ash-blonde hair, which was brushed to a shine. Her features were neat and exquisite. The gleaming white shirt and school tie added a touch of severity to her appearance. He could not help but notice the thrust of her young breasts brush against the fine cotton as she altered her position to sit upright. He gulped as he felt the first stirrings of sexual arousal run through his body.

Patricia noticed immediately that his foreskin had receded a few millimetres from the pale glans of his penis.

Emma had put down the phone and addressed her young protégé. “Perhaps you would not mind standing to the side, Miss Brough, while I get this boy in position. Miss Preston will be here in a moment to hold his wrists and to officially witness his punishment.

Emma always used Janet Preston to witness any of her punishments. She was the school’s most athletic member of staff. She was the head of physical education and was equally adept at applying her own corporal punishment to both boys and girls at Ferndale. Her method of using a worn gym shoe upon the bare bottoms of those that she felt were not applying themselves sufficiently, was infamous amongst the pupils and was avoided wherever possible.

“Come along, John. Head and shoulders flat on the desk, arms stretched forward, feet astride and up on your toes. Get to it boy. Let me warn you that I will add strokes if you move out of position.”

Clumsily, John took his hands from his head and moved further towards the headmistress’s desk. He bent down until his head and upper part of his chest were resting against the surface. He shuffled his feet until they were widely spaced and then thrust his arms forward until his fingertips almost reached the other side. “Just go up onto your toes for a moment, John and let me examine your position.” Emma looked at the boy admiring the thrust of his bared buttocks.

She moved to his rear and noted that his penis and testicles were clearly visible between his widely spread legs. “Turn your head to your right and lay it down on the surface of the desk. You may come down off your toes and turn your feet inwards. You may stay like that until Miss Preston gets here.” She moved to his right and observed his anguished features. She saw that his eyes were already watering, and his lips were trembling. She moved closer to him and ran her hand gently down from his shoulders to his waist, before her hand descended further to feel the firmness of his buttocks. He flinched in embarrassment as she used both hands to ply open the cheeks of his bottom. The soft flesh seemed to quiver in trepidation.

Miss Preston did not knock before she entered the headmistress’s study. She nodded in acknowledgement to Patricia and Emma as she moved around the desk. She carefully moved the chair back from the desk and stood in front of it. “Are you ready Miss Goodman?”

“Yes, if you would hold him for me, please.” Emma moved to a cupboard on the far side of the room and took a thirty-inch-long and five-inch-wide paddle from the shelf. The hardwood paddle was just over a quarter of an inch thick. “Patricia, dear, would you move to the right, you may observe from there.”

John could see Patricia move into his view. Her short, pleated skirt and bare thighs were at his eye level as she moved closer to the desk.

Emma’s voice was stern as she addressed the boy. “Right my young bully boy, let’s see how you like a dose of your own medicine. Up on your toes. If you move out of position, the stroke will not count, and I will administer it again.”

Miss Preston, a firm hold please. She watched as Janet Preston placed her hands around his arms, above his elbows and leaned her body forward. Her torso pressed against his hands and forearms as she tightened her grip above his elbows. Emma could see him shudder as he was held tightly. He grimaced as he raised his bottom, stretching upwards by lifting his heels as far as he could.

Patricia was thrilled with her viewing position. She was able to observe both his face and his bottom as Miss Goodman raised the paddle above shoulder height and brought the implement down hard upon the middle of his cheeks. His buttocks had seemed to dip and clench at the loud swish of the paddle just prior to its contact. The flesh of his buttocks flattened as the broad paddle smacked with a staccato slap against his tender skin.

“Ooh, Miss.” The boy hissed as he moved his buttocks from side to side in distress.

Miss Goodman’s voice sounded firm as she spoke to the naked young boy. “That does not count, John. I have warned you once not to get out of position and you have disobeyed me. Now let’s try again, starting from number one. Up on your toes and stay there.”

Emma raised the paddle again. She smiled as she saw his body struggling to maintain his position, his calves quivering as he pushed against his toes. “Smack” the paddle came down briskly on the very same spot upon his bottom. “Ooh… oh, Miss.” His bottom cheeks quivered as he moved them from side to side.

Patricia had noticed the boy had made a much greater effort to stay in position but had still gone down on his heels just milliseconds before the paddle had struck his cheeks. She noted that the bright red marks upon his bottom were clearly delineated against his pale flesh.

“I have already told you John that the strokes do not count towards your punishment if you do not stay in position. So, we will start again.”

John was almost crying as he struggled to speak. “I’m so sorry Miss, I’m trying but I just can’t help it. I get in position and then I just seem to erm… oh Miss.”

Emma spoke more softly. “Well, do you want some help in staying in position, John. You could ask Miss Brough to help you to stop moving out of position.

The boy was shivering as he spoke. “Oh, please Miss Goodman, thank you.”

“Well, you will have to ask her yourself, John, it is not up to me.”

Patricia thrilled as she saw him try to raise his head a little from the desk. “Oh, Miss Brough, would you help me, oh please Miss?”

Patricia had the feeling that Miss Goodman had planned this all along, although she could not be certain. “Well, John. I am sure I could help, although I will have to be very firm with you if I am to make you present your bare bottom appropriately to the headmistress. Are you sure you want me to do this?”

“Oh, please Miss Brough, if you would help me, please… erm, so that I don’t move.”

Patricia looked at Miss Goodman whose face would not have portrayed any expression to anyone but an intimate friend or colleague. Patricia could discern the merest hint of a wry smile of satisfaction.

“Well if you are sure, John. I must inform you that I will be very firm with you.”

“Oh, yes please, Miss Brough.”

Patricia could not help the feeling of satisfaction that an older boy had addressed her with such respect. “Well John, I must be sure that you mean what you say and fully understand that I will have to touch you quite intimately to make sure you present your bottom properly. So please tell me again what you want me to do.”

“Please Miss Brough, please hold me as you wish to make me present my bottom correctly.”

“Thank you, John.” She turned to Miss Goodman. “Headmistress, may I have a moment to prepare this boy?” Patricia noticed that Miss Preston was smiling openly, although she was not within the boy’s view. Patricia moved behind him and ran her hands over his buttocks while letting the fingers of both of her hands slip deep within the crease. She felt his sphincter recoil at her touch. Her voice was soft and gentle. I want you to spread your legs a little bit wider please.” She patted the inside of his thighs until he had altered his stance. “Good boy, now keep still, while I take hold of you.”

She stood at the side of his hip and reached underneath him with both hands. He was at the perfect height for her as she cupped his bulging scrotum in her left hand. She ignored his gasps as she encased his penis in her right hand and withdrew his foreskin until it was stretched back fully.

“Now just keep still, there’s a good boy.”

She squeezed his penis tightly and moved her hand backwards and forwards rapidly, taking the foreskin with it. She could feel the shaft become engorged as she manipulated the skin up over the rim of the glans and then back down until it was tightly stretched and fully retracted. She let go of his heavy scrotum and now used her left hand to keep the foreskin tight as she flattened her right hand and held it against the tip of the glans. She was delighted feel the boy lift his bottom to escape the acute stimulation. “Ooh Miss, oh, ooh. Please erm it… er… ah”

Patricia smiled to herself as she realised it had only taken three full rotations of her flattened palm against the urethral opening for the boy to begin gasping at the acute sensation. His penis had become as hard as iron.

Emma smiled as she raised the paddle, even she was surprised to see his buttocks jerk upwards just a scant moment before the paddle slapped across his quivering cheeks with a sharp “crack”. Emma began a steady cadence of strokes to his buttocks. His wails of anguish accompanied by gasps and groans were ignored. She covered his bottom comprehensively, from the very top of his buttocks to the sensitive crease of his thighs and then, with wicked nonchalance to the top of the thighs themselves. Every stroke was preceded by his bottom jerking upwards as if to greet the paddle. Patricia was a little unsure but decided to try out her verbal skills. She looked towards Emma as she spoke to the boy. “Poor baby, bad boys must have their bottoms spanked when they are naughty. I know it hurts, but it is all for your own good.” Emma beamed a smile at her and nodded. “Let’s see if you can get your little bottom a bit higher, just a nice big push, there, that’s a lot better, isn’t it, sweetheart. Try and spread those cheeks for teacher, shall I try another little pinch, there… that’s much better.

Patricia varied her cruel stimulation from pinching the tip of the glans between finger and thumb, to scoring her fingernails over his frenulum. Occasionally, Patricia would look at his face. It was contorted as if suffering the purgatories of hell. He was sobbing helplessly and yet she goaded him into desperately raising his bottom as if he had been electrocuted. Each stroke was preceded by something different. Scoring her fingernail over the opening of his urethra or occasionally holding her fingers and thumb like a claw and scraping the nails over the coronal rim of his glans. Inevitably she would return to the rapid circling of her flattened palm against the very tip of his penis. The boy seemed totally unprepared for her variations to the intense stimulation she was applying to his youthful genitalia.

John was beside himself, he could not believe the severity and agony of the paddle… or the intense stimulation to his most sensitive private parts. He was suffused in an unknown world of both pain and sexual torment.

At thirty strokes of the paddle, Miss Goodman stopped and nodded to Miss Preston and to Patricia. They let the boy go and watched as he slid to the floor. He seemed oblivious to everything but his pain as he writhed uncontrollably upon the polished floor. His penis was fully erect and waving about in a circular motion. He was sobbing in pain and despair as he rubbed his bottom on the cool surface. Patricia felt rather satisfied that his penis was still erect and throbbing blatantly.

Miss Goodman spoke to him. Her voice was crisp and sharp. “Get up off the floor boy and stand up with your hands on your head. Do it now! I warn you I will not repeat myself.”

Her words got through to the boy. He seemed to come to his senses very quickly, almost jumping up at the headmistress’s words. As he placed his hands on his head, his face flushed with embarrassment. Patricia saw that he had suddenly realised that his penis was fully erect. Miss Goodman looked at him, her face stern and severe. “Go through to my secretary and sign the Punishment Report book, place your hands at your sides and do not dare to touch your penis, you naughty boy.”

She watched him blush wildly as he lowered his arms to his sides. Patricia quickly moved to the glass door and opened it. She did not want to miss seeing the boy having to stand naked in front of the young secretary while his penis was jutting outwards completely erect. Having to keep his hands at his side while she gave him the punishment book to sign.

To give the young secretary her due, she did not blush or seem surprised. Patricia guessed that she had already heard everything that had happened in the headmistress’s office. She looked him up and down, her face scornful of a boy in trouble. Patricia thought her words were particularly demeaning. “You are quite disgusting Hinton. I would imagine you got no less than what you deserved. Sign there!” She pointed her manicured finger at the line next to his name. He was about to turn away when she spoke again. “I didn’t give you permission to leave. I am supposed to examine your buttocks. Turn around. Now spread your legs… no, no, I want them wider than that. Now bend right over…come along I said right over. Stay there while I come around my desk and examine you.” Patricia watched the young girl stand right behind him and run her fingers gently over each buttock, before reaching between his legs and cupping his scrotum. The gasp from the boy was indignant. “Don’t get uppity with me boy. Now turn around and stand up straight… and you can put your hands on your head. Patricia saw that his face was a livid red, as the secretary watched him place his hands upon his head. She looked him in the eye as she spoke.

“I am going to inspect your penis. Was it hurt during your punishment.” John stammered as he answered her, looking down at his feet. “Erm… no Miss.”

“Look at me when you talk to me, boy.”

She reached forward and took his erect penis in her hand. She used her other hand to retract his foreskin. She slid the foreskin backwards and forwards twice before letting go.

John could hardly speak through his embarrassment. His hands were twitching as if to grab his penis at any moment.

“Erm no Miss, I wasn’t injured.”

She turned her back to him and wrote in the book. She turned to the side and pointed to the book.

“Do you agree with that, Hinton?”

Patricia moved closer so that she could see what had been written. Under comments was written one word. ‘Satisfactory’.

“If you agree, you may take your hands down and sign your name.”

She gave him a pen from the desk and watched him sign. She looked at his face, which was once more near to tears. “You may go.”

Patricia looked at him, somewhat kindly as she took his hand and led him back into the headmistress’s study. She whispered to him, “stand in front of the desk, legs astride, hands on your head.”

The headmistress was seated at her desk and Miss Preston was seated on a chair at the side. Miss Preston beckoned for Patricia to go over to her. She stood up as Patricia stood in front of her and pinned the prefect’s badge to her shirt so that it could be seen with, or without, a school blazer. She mouthed the words well done as Miss Goodman addressed the boy.

“John, I am sorry I have had to punish you and I am sorry that you have become a bully and have warranted such a punishment. Miss Brough will take you to your room and attend to you. You have only one class left for this morning, so you may start from this afternoon. I am sure that you will obey Miss Brough attentively. You will not be given the benefit of the doubt, so be particularly attentive.”

“She looked at Patricia. Take him to his room please, it is room F11. I suggest you get him ready for the afternoon. Use the back stairs and I will have someone bring his clothes up in a while.” She reached into one of her side drawers and pulled out a short leather strap with a wooden handle. The strap was around nine inches long and four inches wide. It was probably just under a quarter of an inch thick. She pushed it over the desk. “That implement of correction is now yours for the duration of your time here at Ferndale. I know you will use it, as I require all prefects to do so. I do not impose a limit on the number of strokes, nor on the reason for its use. I insist that it is used for any infraction by anyone. No exceptions. Don’t threaten with it… use it! That is the speech I give to every prefect.” She smiled at Patricia.

“John should have his timetable displayed on his door. If there are any clashes with timetables let my secretary know. Right off you go and keep a tight rein on our miscreant.”

John was blushing as she led him by her left hand through the secretary’s office and out into the wide corridor. In her right hand she was carrying the strap the headmistress had given her. The stairs were to her right and she led him up the wide staircase. As they reached the upper corridor John suddenly stopped. Patricia realised the reason why as she saw two girls were standing outside one of the bathrooms.

“Come along John, there is nothing you can do about it. Do you want them to witness you getting the strap so soon?” John saw that the girls were from his class. His face turned to a deep red as he looked at Patricia.

“Oh, please Miss, we will have to walk right past them to get to my room.”

Patricia let go of his hand. Her voice was sharp and firm. “Hands on your head, NOW!”
Her voice carried the length of the corridor. Come along or you will be back downstairs for a caning. Suddenly his eyes filled with tears as he hesitantly raised his hands and put them on his head. Patricia moved behind him and raised the strap to her shoulder and brought it down upon his buttocks. She ignored the boy’s howl as she quickly gave him a second stroke across the back of his thighs. He lifted his right leg only to feel the stinging fire of the strap bite into the crease where buttock meets thigh. He was in agony and began dancing from toe to toe as she lashed his buttocks again. She was aware of the two girls edging closer as she gave him a stinging slap across the underside of his buttocks. The final bite of the strap followed the second one, across the top of his thighs. Tears were streaming down his face as the girls walked past them. Patricia nonchalantly took a firm hold of his penis and led him towards his room. She opened the door and let him put his hands down before leading him through, still firmly holding his penis.

She had understood his dilemma but also knew that being indecisive at that particular moment would have weakened her hold on the boy.

She turned him around and looked deeply into his crumpled weeping face. “Go and lay face down on your bed. Do not move, I will be back in a minute.”

She glanced at his timetable on the way out. He had two free-study periods and physical education in the gym. She ran to her shared room and telephoned the headmistress’s secretary, asking her to relay a message to the headmistress. She picked up two jars from her dresser top and a tube and a packet from her drawers. She dashed back to see that the boy had not moved.

“How are you feeling, John? Will you get up on your hands and knees please. I have something that should sooth your bottom and your legs.” His voice was still a little broken and she wondered whether he had been crying while she was out. She guessed that he had.

She found herself enjoying the look of him as he got into position. She had enjoyed punishing the English boys in that position. Everything is accessible her tutor used to say. She began to gently apply the smooth antiseptic cream that she kept but had never used. She noticed that the paddle had left less discernible marks than her strap. Although she was only twelve her tuition in Switzerland had certainly given her an effective technique. She enjoyed stroking his body. His looks and athletic physique were of the exact type that she liked. She reached between his legs and took hold of his penis. It was fully erect and throbbing slightly. “Is this because I am stroking your thighs and bottom?”

He stammered in embarrassment. “I’m sorry Miss, yes I think it is.”

“How often do you masturbate?

“Oh… erm, a few times a week.”

Patricia smiled to herself. “Oh, how many is a few I want the whole truth including those few extras you might just slip in at the weekend. I still have my strap handy, and your bottom is very accessible right now. Let’s put it another way what is the most times you have made yourself cum in a day?”

Suddenly, she squeezed the glans of his penis. “I know you don’t have to think about it. Boys are proud of this kind of thing. So, tell me, I am serious!”
“Oh, erm three times a day and five times a day at the weekend.”
She smiled knowing that he couldn’t see her face.
“Now we are getting somewhere. How often do you go to the toilet, to sit down I mean.”
He seemed quite unembarrassed by the question.
“Oh, once a day, early. I mean as soon as I get up.
“Shower or bath?”
“Oh, shower morning, night and after PE or games. Bath once or twice at weekends.”
Patricia assumed rightly a boy’s weekend baths included masturbation.
“Good, we’ll talk about homework and study later. Now how much sleep did you get last night, knowing you were before the headmistress this morning? Truth now!
“Erm… none really”
“This room is warm, so you may sleep now on top of the covers. You are not going to any classes today. I will wake when it is time. Lay down on your side. Is that how you sleep?” He laid on his side and closed his eyes. In less than five minutes he was asleep.

It was three hours later when Patricia woke him. She had made him tea from her own Kettle. Until today she had shared a room. Her status as a prefect entitled her to a room of her own. The headmistress had moved with her usual alacrity and had had a single room prepared on the same floor as John. Patricia was delighted with her new, much larger room. Her new bed and bedding, small fridge, with fresh milk inside and kettle with starter packs of sugar, Folgers and China tea.

As Patricia placed the tea next to him, the boy suddenly tried to cover himself. He clasped his hands to his genitals, cupping them so that he was fully covered. “Who… erm what…?”

“This is Susan Musson. She is your new RA and will be your designated supervisor alongside me. She will report to me on your domestic living matters, also, if she believes that you are disobeying my instructions or are behaving as you have in the past. You have read the sheet that the headmistress gave you to sign, so you must be aware of the arrangement. Now just so we can start as we mean to go on, let us get started on at least some of your regime. You will address her as Miss Musson… or in conversation as ‘Miss’ in other words the same way as you address me.”
She looked at John in the eye as she continued.

“The headmistress has agreed with me that it would be better for me to have a fellow supervisor that is similar in age to myself. Miss Musson is the same age as me, at least within a month, and so I am sure that we will both get on splendidly.”

Patricia noticed that the boy’s face was deepening in colour with every word that she spoke.
John knew that he was blushing profusely. He had not given a thought to the arrangements as his day had already been filmed with trauma after trauma. Now, as the afternoon sun streamed through the window of his room, he realised that his embarrassment had only just begun. The young girl was almost as pretty, as was Patricia. Her hair was very dark, almost black. She had beautiful brown eyes and pretty lips. When she smiled as she was doing now, her white teeth were emphasised by her summer tan. She stood with her legs astride and her hands behind her back. John noticed that she was fuller figured than Patricia, her school shirt was filled out by her firm breasts and John wondered whether she was wearing a bra as he was sure he could see points of darker flesh through her shirt as her nipples pressed against the fine cotton.

Suddenly it was Susan that addressed him.

“Hello John, I have seen you around the school, so I know who you are and the trouble that you have made for yourself. So, I hope that we can help you back onto the straight and narrow. I would like you to stand up and place your hands upon your head. I want to examine your body especially your bottom that has been spanked. My brother is your age and he cried like a baby when he was spanked. So, I hope I don’t have to spank you too often.”

She took her hands from behind her back and John immediately saw a leather strap, very similar to the one that Patricia had been given.

“The headmistress has given me a badge too. Are you going to obey my instructions, John?”

John felt his cheeks burning as he struggled to get up. Eventually he abandoned his attempt to cover himself and, in defeat, stood by the side of the bed. Without hesitation he put his hands upon his head. He was aware that his penis was swollen, which always seemed to happen when he woke up. Both Susan and Patricia moved forward and looked at the boy’s body.
Patricia turned to Susan.

“He has a lovely physique and a nice face too, don’t you think?” Susan smiled and placed the palm of her hand on his chest covering his left nipple. She circled her hand over the nub of skin until it began to harden.

“Are you sensitive there, John? My brother is very sensitive, although he hates it when I grab his nipples and squeeze.”
She pinched his nipple between finger and thumb.

“That wasn’t too painful was it John?”

“Erm no Miss… erm Musson.”
“Good well turn around and let’s see your spanked bottom.”

The boy blushed to a deeper hue as Patricia thought what a good choice her friend was. She seemed extremely confident with him. John had turned quickly and stood with his legs astride and his hands still on his head. He felt fingers trail across both cheeks of his bottom. He found that he was trembling with the ignominy of his position. It was Patricia that spoke to him first, her voice soft and gentle.

“Bend over, sweetheart and let us see your bottom properly.”

John shivered as he took his hands from his head and reached for the floor. He could not bend over far enough to touch it, but his position seemed to satisfy the girls. He shivered once more as fingers trailed between his cheeks.

“No hair here at all, Patricia. I like neat boys, not big hairy ones.”

“Yes, me too, Susan. The cream seems to have really calmed his flesh down. He has just ended up with rather rosy cheeks.”
It was Patricia that instigated the rest of the boy’s embarrassing afternoon.

“Right John, we had better get you into the bath or the water will be getting cold. Off you go into the bathroom, John. I will follow you.” She looked at Susan and then at the folding table that they had brought with them. “Are you sure you can manage that on your own, Susan?”

“Oh sure, it’s very flimsy, I will join you in a sec.”

Patricia followed John into the bathroom. The bath was a third full of water.

“In you get John, I will just use these jugs to get some more water for your hair.”

She turned to the sink as John, utterly embarrassed at the prospect of her helping him bathe, climbed into the bathtub and sat down.

“Eyes shut, here comes the water.” She thoroughly wet his hair and took the shampoo bottle and tipped a goodly amount into her palm.

“Eyes tight now, that's the way. Little boys don’t want soap in their eyes.”

She lathered his hair, her fingers lingering around his ears and the back of his neck.

“OK, let’s rinse you off.”

She tipped a second jug of water over his hair and made sure his head was thoroughly rinsed.

“Now, stand up and I will do the rest of you.”

John was already blushing as he got to his feet.

“Erm, I can manage now Miss!” It was Susan’s voice that answered him as she came into the bathroom and walked around the bath to the other side of it.

“Sorry John, that is out of the question, we are required to do this. You’ll see as time goes on, exactly what full supervision means. Don’t you like the thought of two little girls like us giving you a bath. It’s really just the same as having a babysitter. I know that we will have to smack your little bottom occasionally, but apart from that, we also have to supervise you and there are lots of things that little girls can do. Sometimes it’s sugar and spice and all things nice, if you behave yourself.”

Patricia began to soap his chest and then passed the bar of soap to Susan who started to lather his back. When the girl’s two pairs of hands got to his waist, they switched to his shins and began to move upwards to his thighs. John did not know exactly what they intended to do as Patricia’s hand reached the juncture of his thighs and Susan reached his buttocks. It was Patricia that instructed him.

“Bend over and hold on to the sides while I do your bottom.”

Hesitantly john bent forward. Patricia slipped her hand between his cheeks and began to soap against the opening of his sphincter.

“Just relax your bottom John. Now Susan, watch carefully to see what I do.”

Patricia had one hand flat against his stomach and the other buried deep between his cheeks. Little by little she insinuated her finger into the entrance of his sphincter.

“Ooh, Miss, that feels oh, erm funny.”

“Just relax your bottom John, let it go nice and slack.”

“Hoo, ooh.”

John could not help himself gasping and articulating as Patricia slipped her finger straight up into his bottom.

“Well, there we are, just relax, this won’t take long. Now Susan, I will tell you when I have penetrated him properly.”

She see-sawed her finger and suddenly added a second. She smiled as the boy straightened up, with his head thrown back. Patricia nodded to Susan who quickly grasped his penis just at the same moment that Patricia found the smooth bump of his prostate.

“There we are, now that didn’t take long at all. Off you go Susan, that looks fine, keep it up and we are off to the races. John was moaning as Patricia looked up at his face, his eyes were squeezed shut as Susan’s fingers flew over the flesh of his penis.

“Here we go Susan, little boys are so predictable, aren’t they?”

John cried out in a long wail as he ejaculated. Jet after jet of thick viscous semen shot from the tip of his penis. His body jerked and shook as his senses were rapidly raped by the two young girls. It seemed to take forever before he stopped ejaculating. Susan drew her fingers up the shaft of his penis as he shuddered at the intense experience. Gradually he calmed down but could not stop himself from blushing furiously. Patricia did not immediately remove her fingers, instead she gently stretched the sphincter until she was satisfied with the result.

Gently they helped him from the bath and draped a towel over his shoulders before walking either side of him into the bed-sitting room. They walked him to the flimsy but thinly padded massage table and had him sit upon it. John seemed to be too overwhelmed to protest as they laid him on his back. Susan went to fetch the two jugs. While Patricia got John laying with his legs hanging over each side of the table.

Susan came back and placed both jugs between his splayed thighs. She dipped the shaving brush, which she had carried in one jug along with the safety razors, into the lather from the other. Without a word to John, they began to shave his pubic hair.

He looked down to see them shaving his hair away.” Patricia pre-empted his question.

“Little boys don’t have hair around their peenies. Don’t make a fuss, because little boys do get smacked bottoms.”

The girls were particularly careful when they shaved his scrotum and again when they shaved the tiny hairs from his perineum and from in-between the cheeks of his bottom. There was barely any hair apart from his pubis. They admired their handywork as Patricia fetched her lotions and with the help of Susan began to grease around his pubis.

As pre-arranged, they moved to his penis and in-between the cheeks of his bottom. This time Susan penetrated his bottom, first with one finger then with two. Although it was the first time that she had performed a prostate massage, she soon learned to her delight, that the little gland would pulse as he neared ejaculation.

Patricia used all her skill upon his penis… and this time they had the boy writhing in utter abandonment at his treatment. He ejaculated almost as copiously as he had the first time. Although it must be admitted that he seemed fatigued by the effort.

It was thirty minutes later that they approached the drowsy boy. Susan bent over him and kissed him gently on the lips. He blushed as he looked up at her. “Wakey, wakey, John. I want you on your hands and knees please.”

John did not question as to why, as the girls got him into this position. Patricia lubricated his bottom as Susan slipped her hands beneath him and began to tease his nipples. Little by little the girls aroused him with soft caresses. Patricia gently goaded the tip of his penis with the delicate fingers of her left hand, playing and batting the glans gently and sensuously. With her right she began to tease his freshly lubricated sphincter. With all their skill they began to arouse him, both physically and verbally.

“There we are sweetheart, poor baby fancy having his baby bottom paddled by your beautiful headmistress. Did you feel ashamed… did you cry real tears when she walloped the pretty cheeks of your bottom. never mind. Naughty boys must be smacked for their own good. Shall I just slip my fingers into your little bottom and make you feel all squidgy. There we are, just relax now.”

Patricia managed to slip three slender fingers up into his bottom. She nodded to Susan as she ascertained that he was fully erect. Susan began to use both hands underneath him as if she were climbing a rope. Patricia enclosed his scrotum in her hand and squeezed gently but firmly. This time Patricia was able to drum her fingers against his prostate before scoring the pad of her index finger over it. Allied with the squeezing of his testicles and the rapid milking of his penis, they had him ejaculating again. It seemed to John that it would never end as they milked him until he was dry.

“Oh Miss, erm Miss, I’ve finished Miss. Oh Miss it is too sensitive Miss, please stop.

“Shush, pretty baby. It will all be over soon.”

John was crying out in desperation, ooh, please Miss no more. Suddenly he felt his testes being squeezed and a firm prodding inside his bottom. To his surprise, there was an unbearable stimulation to the tip of his penis.

“Please Miss no more, oh… I can’t stand anymore.”

His pleading fell on deaf ears as the girls increased the pace and the pressure of their stimulation. Suddenly the boy shuddered with a surfeit of sensation. He felt his testicles being released and then firm slaps to the cheeks of his bottom and then more pressure back on his testicles. Without warning, there was an incredible friction to his frenulum. He could not have articulated as to what the sensation was. It was if his body had been speared by an unbearable overabundance of pain and pleasure, both unimaginable and excruciating. He knew that he was ejaculating helplessly. It was if he was being squeezed of his juices. The sensation seemed to stem from his sphincter right through his body to the top of his head. It seemed to last interminably, eventually the iron grip of his arousal seemed to let his acute agony slip from its fingers. He was left bereft of his senses.

His body shook as if he was in the grip of a fever. He collapsed onto the bed. His breathing was heavy and laboured. Susan’s face appeared before him.

“Good boy, let us get all that nasty testosterone out of you. Now we are going to clean you up and dress you like little boys should be dressed in your new short-trousers and then take you to dinner. No one will think you are a bully when you are wearing short-trousers and under the supervision of little girls. Just to think, from now on you will be cared for by us. You will never have to worry that someone will catch you playing with your peenie. We will always take care of that. Tomorrow is Saturday, so we are going to see how many times we can make you shiver and shake as we empty you of all that nasty testosterone. We have noticed that being spanked makes your willy stiff, so tomorrow you will be having some special spankings over our knees.

(End of File)