Tommy's Attitude Adjustment Chapter 74
by Chadlad

copyright 2008 by Chadlad, all rights reserved
chadlad3@yahoo.com

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY It contains explicit 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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Chapter 74: There's Nothing Like a Good Orgasm (and This was Nothing Like One)

Emily stood, glaring at her staring classmates with her hands handing limply at her sides. Her classmates were staring back avidly, for the most part. The boys tended to be staring at either her budding conical breasts or her hairless, ragged pussy, (and so were at least some girls). The rest of the girls stared at her face. Few were staring sympathetically. Some had that knowing condescension often found on children who were watching another child being punished and feeling superior and invulnerable. She wondered if any of the girls, who'd never been humiliated in class like this, realized how indescribably awful, how humbling it was to standing naked in front of everyone, even the boys, with a probe up her butt that would shortly compel her to grip her genitals and begin masturbating shamelessly in front of them all. She looked at the boy's greedy eyes, raping her visually with an intensity that was frightening. Jimmy Chen, openly eyeing her cunt gleefully. That stupid vampire kid, blushing but still looking. Disgusting Joey Turpin with his dirty looking hairy butt and big hairy dick, looking at her with a kind of boredom that was more cutting than interest would have been. And Chad Henson – disgusting, badly hung, little boy-like Chad Henson, getting his revenge, probably fulfilling his every fantasy about her. Probably picturing himself sticking his tiny dick inside her, ravaging her. Well, at least that would never happen, no matter how hard they punished her! She'd bite it off of him, first. She pictured snapping her head forward, closing her teeth around the base of Chad's little dick and chomping through it with one bite. She pictured blood spurting from the resulting wound like it did in the slasher movies, as horror came over Chad's face as he realized he'd been emasculated forever. She'd spit out his dick contemptuously, then, before he could react, bite his balls off, too, maybe chewing on them like chewing gum for a moment before spitting them out as well.

Mrs. Rose cleared her throat. "I will press the start button in a moment," she said. "Shortly thereafter you will feel a burning sensation in your rectum, along with waves of electrical stimulation between it and the electrodes on either side of your vaginal region. The cycling currents between the two will provoke an intense desire to stimulate yourself, which you may resist at first but which will continue to intensify and become more painful until you give in. Once you begin masturbating, you will find you build quickly to orgasm, but that each orgasm will be associated with no relief or pleasure, but simply a greater need to stimulate yourself. This process will continue until I judge your genital region to be too raw and sore to continue."

She smiled an evil smile at Emily. "In order to provide the greatest of lessons to these watching children, you will be required to notify us of each impending orgasm. That way, we can all watch your face and see the frustration and disappointment that will accompany each one in place of the pleasure you're probably accustomed to. As you are wearing a pacifier, symbolic of the juvenile nature of your actions, you will not be able to announce your orgasms as Mr. Henson had to do when he was also made acquainted with the Stimulator. Instead, you will hold your left hand upward, with the fingers all folded except for the index finger when you near orgasm, lowering the hand as the orgasm finishes. If you fail to indicate an orgasm in this way, I will turn the setting up a notch on the Stimulator, increasing the severity of the stimulation as well as the discomfort. I will be standing behind you, where, you can rest assured, I will be able to detect any unannounced orgasms by the pattern of clenching of your buttocks that no one, boy or girl, can prevent or hide when they orgasm. You're already starting at a fairly painful setting normally reserved for children more advanced in sexual development – don't risk higher settings."

Emily glared some more above the pacifier tied behind her head, but did not attempt to flee again. Mrs. Rose nodded. "We will begin," she said, hitting the switch.

Emily's body jerked with the first flow of current, her buttocks clenching tightly and her pelvis thrusting right toward Chad, the lips of her vulva twitching. Her hands fluttered and clenched as she fought the urge to grasp herself. In seconds, she lost that battle. Her right hand flew to her crotch, her second finger slipping into place between her projecting vaginal folds, then rising quickly to circle her oversized clit, rolling the soft tissue under her fingers with each pass. Her other hand fluttered for half a minute or so as she continued mauling her clitoris, her blistered butt making little clenching twitches as she did, then it surrendered, too, and she drew her left index finger down her pussy lips, and, wiggling it rapidly, slid it into the open crevice all the way, burying it up to the lower knuckle and then pulling it out slowly to ram it in again, harder and harder. "She's fucking herself!" Big Same whispered excitedly to Joey, his voice to low to be heard in front.

"Well, duh," Joey said back.

In front, Emily's hips began bucking and her butt clenching, and she held the left hand still, embedded deeply in her crotch, while the right mauled her clitoris madly. She went up on her toes, gave a shudder, and then sagged again. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her hand, which had been slowing in anticipation of the pleasures of orgasm, sprung into action again, and she began mauling her clitoris even more viciously, and ramming her finger in and out of her cunt faster, also. Mrs. Rose frowned. "Mr. Gitt, you failed to raise your hand to indicate impending orgasm. I'm going to have to increase the setting on the Stimulator by one notch."

Emily half turned without stopping her rapid masturbation of herself, only to jerk spasmodically, shudder, and then start masturbating faster as Mrs. Rose clicked the switch. Her face had become quite red and her breath was coming out her nose and around the pacifier in pants and little grunts, grunts that sounded painful rather than sexual. In what seemed like moments, she was thrusting more rapidly again, and starting to rise on her toes. This time, she jerked her left hand out of her cunt just in time to hold a finger in the air as her butt clenched hard and fast and she shuddered and settled on her heels again. But she didn't relax – instead, she let out a surprised and anguished moan, attacking her exposed genitals even more frantically with both hands. Chad noticed, suddenly, that her clitoris had become hard at some point, and was sticking out rather like a little penis that was split under the head, a penis that would have been a credit to a sexually-excited 5-year-old boy. Of course, it didn't have a mushroom head or a pee slit, but it still would have passed for a boy's organ from a distance. Emily was now rubbing the sides of it not unlike how he rubbed his own, only slightly bigger penis. The projecting little nub was quite red in color, and, he realized, was pulsing with her heartbeat much like his penis did when he was excited.

His attention was drawn to her left hand, below the projecting, penis-like nub, which was shoving a finger spasmodically into her body as far as it would go, then pulling it back just to shove it in again. He realized the finger and the visible tissue of her cunt was glistening wetly and slickly – indeed, as he watched, moisture began gathering in the split at the bottom and then trickled to one side, beginning a slow slide down her left leg. Her rapidly moving hand was spreading the wetness all over her crotch, making it glisten with female juices in the classroom light. Chad's hard little dick was throbbing in the tight diaper, and he almost reached to re-adjust himself before he remembered the penalty for touching himself that Mrs. Rose had ordered. The tightness in his diaper became all the more unbearable for being forbidden to touch. Meanwhile, Emily managed to pull her hand out of her cunt just in time to signal her third orgasm, before moaning even more desperately and then impaling herself on two fingers this time as she resumed stimulating herself. Her moans continued to grow louder, low, frustrated, uncomfortable moans that telegraphed to everyone in the room her need and how it wasn't being satisfied. Mrs. Gitt moved from where she'd been standing to one side of her daughter and sat down beside Chad on the floor, her head about even with his bare stomach. She patted his diaper-clad bottom from the side and crooked a finger at him, indicating she wanted him to lean over toward her. He complied, still carefully keeping his hands on his desk. His penis throbbed as the diaper moved over it. "I'm afraid she'd always been a bit sexually raw like this," she whispered. "I've seen her go at herself like this in her bedroom when she thought she was along. She'll want it hard when she has a partner, I'm afraid, hard and fast. Although I'm guessing that partner will more likely be female than male."

Chad reddened at the intimacy of this conversation. Mrs. Gitt nudged him playfully. "Don't be such a prude," she whispered. "You have to admit my daughter puts on quite a show." She gave him a quick hug around the waist, her hand brushing the tent in his diaper as she did. "Oh, you poor dear," she said sympathetically, bringing her hand back to brush the straining lump of his penis again. "They've got you trapped pointing down, haven't they! How cruel. Everyone knows you boys need your little hoo-hoos pointing upward in your diaper when you get excited. Here, let me help."

Before he could react, Mrs. Gitt snaked her fingers into the stretchy waistband of Chad's diaper, grasped his bare penis, squeezed it hard, and pointed it up toward his belly. She gave him another squeeze and withdrew her hand, wiping the zinc oxide diaper cream off herself on the inside of the diaper as she pulled out. Chad sighed with a combination of relief at having the pressure at the base of his penis released, the embarrassment at having Emily's mother familiarly handle his penis, and the frustration of being squeezed and then abandoned. Still, he felt better with his penis pointed up than down. She patted his rump again near his back (because he was sitting on the rest of it). Emily was taking longer getting to her fourth orgasm, her efforts more frenzied, her big clit redder and stiffer, and her cunt leaking so much fluid that it now trailed half way down both legs. Her moans were louder, now, too, and she appeared to be having trouble making the orgasm happen. Several times she tentatively went on her toes, only to fall back in frustration. Finally, though, she went up and stayed there, frantically squeezing her butt as she shuddered, her two fingers still buried into her cunt. She settled back, moaning even louder. Mrs. Rose spoke.

"I'll be turning the Stimulator up another notch, Mr. Gitt, for your willful refusal to signal impending orgasm. I'm afraid this is going to become quite a bit more painful for you." She clicked the knob. Emily stiffed and gasped audibly around the pacifier, moaned loudly, and then began sucking on it desperately, like a starving baby nursing, while at the same time she pulled her right hand free of her cunt, glistening wetly in the light, then began trying to plunge three fingers into the gaping tunnel that was revealed when her hand moved out of the way. She spread her legs at the knees to try to open her cunt farther, her right hand becoming a blur on her clit as her left tried to force all three fingers into a straining, clearly too-tight orifice. Moaning more loudly, she gave up and rammed the two fingers back in again, to Chad's eyes fucking herself as rapidly as little Gabriel had fucked his brother Tommy's butt that weekend. The image of Gabriel between his brother's buns, humping rapidly into his butt while Chad held his brother's legs came to mind unbidden. He felt a surge of sexual excitement and wondered about himself for a moment. He did like girls, didn't he? He turned his attention back to Emily. Her pussy lips had swollen up to become redder looking and more prominent, and fluids continued to trickle from there down her legs, on both sides, now. He watched her finger fuck herself, and decided, with throbbing penis, that he liked girls genitals very much, even if they were attached to a bitch like his current enemy.

Chad looked around guiltily, but no one appeared to have noticed the exchange he and Mrs. Gitt had just had, and of course no one could read his embarrassing thoughts. Mrs. Rose was frowning at Emily's butt, watching closely for signs of unannounced orgasms. The Reverend was standing to one side studying Emily's frantic manipulation of her genitals, his face a mix of stormy disapproval and grim satisfaction, rather like a Biblical patriarch watching a stoning. The other kids were looking at Emily and only Emily, most of the boys with fevered excitement, most of the girls with smug superiority. Jimmy Chen was rocking visibly in his chair, and Chad wondered if he was also hard in his pants, and suffering from the inability to do anything about it. He glanced over his shoulder at Alan. Alan was looking intently at Emily as well, but his eyes were guarded rather than glittering like Jimmy's – he looked, Chad realized, for all the world like someone who was studying something he found vaguely distasteful, but couldn't keep his eyes off of.

Emily's moans around the pacifier had become both continuous and much louder by now, and they weren't moans of pleasure but of pain. Her swollen pussy lips were bright red now and hanging open, and her still hard clitoris was beginning to show the rough redness of genital abrasions, abrasions Chad was only too familiar with from his own stint on the Stimulator. Emily was working frantically to try to achieve still another orgasm, but it was clearly hurting her badly. Vaginal juices now coated the insides of her legs from crotch to ankle, and both of her hands as well. She was clenching her butt voluntarily, thrusting her busily working hands and crotch toward Chad as she did. Her breath came in gasps between her moans, and her hands were shaking as they worked, but she couldn't stop or didn't want to. Chad remembered how he'd felt during his later moments on the stimulator – the burning pain in his abraded penis, the aching need inside him, the burn of all that tubing and stuff inside his body, the crushing pain of his final orgasm, when he'd been able to achieve it, before he was released. He remembered, too, the horrible disappointment that none of the orgasms had brought him release. He wondered if he'd looked as frantic as Emily did.

Mrs. Rose cleared her throat. "As Mr. Gitt seems to be having difficulty reaching climax a final time," she said, "I believe we'd best give her some additional assistance. The Stimulator offers an ideal option for this purpose. A simply push of this switch, and the pulse rate will double from its currently level. I believe it's called 'Turbo Mode.'"

Emily, completely focused on her own body's aching need, appeared to hear nothing of Mrs. Rose said. Mrs. Rose raised a finger and stabbed the red button on the controller theatrically. Emily's body immediately stiffened, and her hands stopped dead for a moment. She arched her back and moaned piteously, staggering for a moment. Her pussy lips twitched visibly and a shudder went through her. Then she pulled the two fingers of her left hand out of her crotch and began manipulating her oversized clitoris with both hands, pulling it out as far as she could and squeezing it so hard Chad wondered if she would pull it off, just as he'd feared he'd pull his own penis off toward the end of his stint on the Stimulator. Her moans became louder, and she looked around wild eyed. Making a great effort, she worked her mouth frantically, managing to expel the nipple of the pacifier and wiggler her lips free of it, letting it fall off her chin so it hung from its ties around her neck. She moaned loudly, a strange, longing, guttural tone, and then her fevered eyes lit on Chad. Moving fast, she dived at him, letting go of her slick crotch and grapping him with both hands, dragging him from the chair. Her tight grip left disagreeably damp spots on Chad's arm. Holding him with one arm, she ripped his diaper off with the other, pulling straight down on the front, shredding the tapes and tossing it aside. Chad's dick, all two inches of it, pointed straight out from his body, covered with a mixture of boy sweat and zinc oxide. Emily's eyes lit on it and gleamed with something like hunger. With a louder moan, she pulled him close to her in one motion, lifting him right off the ground and wrapping both arms around his butt, pulling his genitals to hers. Chad's white penis, standing up stiffly and covered with diaper rash cream, sank into her wet pussy until their crotches met, and Emily crashed to the floor with Chad under her, pinning him down and mashing her crotch against his as tightly as she could, pumping her hips and moaning, "Yes! YES! YEEESSSS! GIVE IT TO MEEEEEEE!" Mrs. Rose, who'd been frozen in surprise, turned the control on the stimulator to maximum. Emily screamed and her butt contracted impossibly tight, but she remained on Chad, pinning him to the floor and carnally joined to him as well, her back arched and her body rocking on Chad's. The Reverend jumped to their side and tried to lift her of Chad, but she had an iron grip on his buttocks, squeezing each one like a vice and holding him to her as she wiggled her hips from side to side, making his penis rub all sides of her sopping vagina.

Chad, for whom all this had happened too fast, thought he was suffocating. He'd hit the ground hard when Emily had fallen on him, and it had been all he could do to keep his head from hitting the floor, too. He was vaguely aware he was naked and his penis was in a very hot, very wet place, but he was too worried about his inability to breathe to consider that he had his dick inside, actually inside the cunt of a girl.

The class was in an uproar. Joey was cheering Emily on, along with Big Sam, Jimmy was yelling, "GO, CHAD, GO! GET HER FOR ME!" and Alan looked like he might throw up. The Reverend made a dive for the Taser, and dropped it. It rolled under the desk, causing him considerable delay as he tried to retrieve it without scuffing the spotless white knees of his trousers. Mrs. Rose kept stabbing the buttons on the Stimulator, unable to believe that nothing she was doing was making Emily get off of Chad.

Chad continued to suffer asphyxia, panicking as he found himself unable to inflate his lungs with Emily's weight pressing on him. He was dimly aware of his penis swelling to what felt like a monstrous size – bigger than it had ever swollen before. With his need for oxygen he also felt a powerful sexual need. His focus on the very real threat of suffocation made him unable to appreciate just how it felt to be inside a real girl for the first time. He waved his arms feebly under Emily, feeling her hot wetness flowing onto him, across his crotch, down either side of his balls, and along his ass crack to the ground. The fluid from her vulva tickled his butt crack as it passed. His penis swelled again, and his panic at not breathing swelled, too. I'm going to die, he thought, and fear raced through him.

The Reverend managed to snag the handle of the Taser, drop it, and retrieve it again, finally rushing over and shoving it at the nearest portion of Emily's anatomy, which just happened to be her furiously pumping butt. He shoved it wildly into her, just as she had pulled back to make another lunge on the penis that she needed inside her so desperately. The Taser slipped between her buns as they parted with her movement, and followed her down again as she rammed her crotch home against Chad's. In a panic, the Reverend put all his weight on the Taser and pulled the trigger, unaware that the tip was now in direct contact with Emily's butt hole. All the muscles near the Taser contracted as it crackled to life, ramming her crotch toward Chad as her back arched impossibly far. She rose in an arch almost like a backward letter C, all her weight on Chad's crotch, smashing his hips into the floor. Chad, suddenly, could inflate his lungs, but he didn't even notice, because his penis, all two inches buried into her cunt, also suffered from waves of current that followed her swollen vaginal tissues right to his dick, sizzling across his soaking wet dick head and shaft and tickling all the way to the base of his juvenile rod. His own body, having had enough of all this abnormal stimulation, lost control and muscles inside him began pumping, first satisfying squirts of fluid, then simply dry convulsions that were almost painful in their power. Chad squealed with the first air he'd gotten into his lungs in what seemed like hours. He felt like he was joined permanently in the girl on top him – joined like dogs became joined after having sex. He had a image of Emily going to lunch, perhaps being paddled along the way by Jimmy to keep her moving, and with him walking backwards quickly in front of her, his crotch joined to hers in sexual union. The image was disturbing and funny at the same time. As he considered the image, his position suddenly struck him for the first time. He had his dick up Emily Git's girl place – her vagina! Did that mean he was having sex with her? Fucking Emily Git?!!!

Emily screamed as she went through her own orgasm, shuddering again and again, her vaginal muscles pinching Chad's penis hard enough he felt like he was being emasculated. Them Emily dropped back on Chad again, and he couldn't breathe for the second time in moments, and he was finally aware that he was soaked in Emily's juices from the crotch to the floor, and Mrs. Rose had dropped the Stimulator and was trying to roll Emily off him. With the help of the Reverend, who had let go of the Taser because it had stopped working, they were finally able to get purchase on a limp, panting Emily and roll her off of Chad, dragging her to one side. Emily's consciousness seemed to return as she was dragged off Chad. She blinked, did a double take, and then began wailing. "Noooooooo! Noooooooo! Not him! Not Microdick! NOOOOOO!"

I'm not so thrilled myself, Chad thought muzzily. The Reverend and Mrs. Rose had Emily pinned to the ground and were tying her hands behind her and binding her feet. She kept wailing her horror the whole time, shouting variants of, "Not him! NOT MICRODICK!" over and over.

Chad lay on his back on the ground, stunned by events, penis still hard and pointed at the ceiling and completely coated with Emily's juices, mixing with the white diaper cream. The head of his dick seemed to have grown in size, bulging out from the shaft in a way he'd never seen before, so that even though it was going soft, it still swelled out like it was ruptured or something. He struggled to breathe, aware of little except that he'd been freed. He tried to remember all the things that had just happened. He'd been inside Emily Gitt! He'd fucked Emily Gitt! No, not exactly. He hadn't done anything, had he? She'd ripped his diaper off, pulled him into her, and pinned him to the ground, and he hadn't done a thing. Okay, so Emily Gitt had fucked him! He tried to remember what it had felt like, but could only recall not being able to breathe, and then having a powerful orgasm coinciding with the weight coming off his lungs and the blessed oxygen entering again. He still had the feeling of post orgasmic satisfaction that a good cum always gave him, evidence that it all had indeed happened. He wondered how he felt about Emily being the first girl he'd fucked.

"Clean yourself off, Mr. Henson," Mrs. Rose said, tossing a towel at him. Chad sat up and began rubbing the towel on his genitals, then drew his legs up and tried to clean off his butt crack and his butt of the sticky mixture of diaper rash cream and essence of Emily. Mrs. Rose dragged Emily to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her on her bound feet as she yanked the two tape strips off either side of Emily's cunt quickly and without warning. Emily shrieked with pain as the tape ripped off the tender skin, so close to the raw redness of her overstimulated genitals. Letting her stay doubled over, Mrs. Rose yanked the egg from Emily's butt by pulling roughly and rapidly on the cables that ran to the control panel of the Stimulator, lying on the floor nearby. Emily shrieked again and straightened up, clenching her violated butt hole and bursting into racking sobs. Mrs. Rose set the probes on the desk and took the Taser from the Reverend.

"Shut up!" she said, waving the shock device in Emily's face. "Shut up this minute, Miss Gitt!" she added, forgetting in her fury that Emily was officially a boy for the moment. "Or I'll turn this on full power and insert it into whatever orifice is closest!"

Shocked by that look on Mrs. Rose's face and the violence of the threat, Emily choked off her sobs and stood there gulping, tears streaming down her face. Chad, wiping himself in confusion, stood up. Mrs. Rose frowned at him. "I'm going to ask you a question, Mr. Henson, and I want an immediate and honest answer. Don't even think of lying to me or you go on the Stimulator, too. Did you orgasm inside of Miss Gitt?"

Chad found himself slightly surprised at the use of the correct feminine address for Emily, a sign of Mrs. Rose's distress. "I didn't mean to," he said defensively. "Really! I couldn't help it! She attacked me!" he said indignantly. "She put her… She made me…" he stopped, completely at a loss for words. She fucked me, he realized. Emily Gitt fucked me! I had my dick right inside of her – and I came in her! So she fucked me! He wished he had a better memory of what had happened – all he could recall was wetness on his dick, and a struggle to breathe, and then a really explosive orgasm. He looked down at his sagging penis.

"I think so," he said, embarrassed to be talking about his ejaculation in front of the whole clase. "I didn't want to – it just happened."

"And am I correct in my memory that, despite the immature appearance of your genitals, you are now capable of producing seminal fluid?" Mrs. Rose went on.

"Yeah," Chad said, blushing red. "I started two weeks ago, when I was being punished." He almost added, "by my sister," but stopped just in time.

"You'll need to see about that before she goes to The Farm tomorrow," Mrs. Rose said.

"The morning after pill," Mrs. Gitt said. "I'll take care of it after school." Chad was still looking down. His eyes widened as he looked at his penis. The head was still swollen, like a little ball on the shrinking shaft. A shot of fear coursed through him. Has she hurt him? He'd never seen his penis that swollen looking before. "I think I need to see the nurse," he said.

The Reverend looked at where Chad was gazing. "Minor penile tissue separation in the glans area," he said calmly. "Common in boys who grip themselves too tightly when engaged in self pollution. It'll heal in three of four days, if you can keep your dirty hands off yourself during that time."

Chad looked at himself more closely. "Are you sure?" he said doubtfully. "It's never looked like that before."

Mrs. Rose turned her face back to Emily, glaring at her from inches away. "You just don't learn, do you?" she said. "Now you're going to have to be punished for sexually assaulting Mr. Henson along with your other punishments. We'll have to schedule that for after your genital whipping, I suppose." She looked at the clock. "However, we have lunch to deal with first. I had been going to have you walk to lunch, but I fear leaving you unbound is just asking for trouble. Fortunately, Mrs. Hendricks has left the horse just outside the classroom door, and she promised to fit it with the special attachment for individuals with genitals like yours, Mr. Gitt. We'll simply tie you to it for your time at lunch. Mr. Henson, Mr. Farlow, Mr. Martinez, and Mr. Chen – would you be so good as to retrieve the horse from outside? You four will also be in charge of carrying Mr. Gitt to and from the lunch room."

"But I'm naked!" Chad protested. "And I haven't been bad! You're only supposed to go to lunch naked if you'be been bad! Should I get clothes or a diaper or something to wear to lunch?"

"I don't have anything here," Mrs. Rose said. "And there's no time. You can get a new diaper after lunch from the nurse. In the meantime, you should be perfectly comfortable in your birthday suit – you've certainly spent enough time that way in school in the past few weeks. Besides, it does the younger girls good to see the unclothed male body as much as possible. It helps them realize that the male body isn't so much formidable and mysterious as ludicrous."

"But my… my boy stuff," Chad said. "It's all hurt! And it looks funny!"

"It's always looked funny," Mrs. Rose retorted. "And as for the swelling, you'll just have to try not to catch it on anything," Mrs. Rose said. "Now not another word from you, Mr. Henson. Help the other boys get that horse, and let's get on with it."

The Reverend frowned to himself. This female dominated institution promised to be a good source of new inmates for the Farm, but they had a lot to learn about using humiliation and pain to bring children, especially boys, to righteousness. This Mrs. Rose was a good, strong woman with a firm hand with the boys, but she failed to appreciate a fundamental fact about nudity – it was only effective when it wasn't the norm. The example of this young boy Chad was a case in point. Yes, he was mildly uncomfortable in his current nude state, with every boy and girl able to see all sides of him completely naked. He probably wasn't happy having his intercourse-damaged penis hanging out for all to see, or having to exhibit his bare buttocks, always running the risk of exposing his organ of elimination every time he leaned over for something.

But having him stay naked any length of time meant that he'd become old news very quickly. Yes, boys and girls would look at him at first, but then they'd lose interest, and the shock value of having a naked boy around would diminish as well. Do that very much, and even the girls would get used to naked boys being around with their privates hanging out all the time, and the humiliation value of being nude diminished. That was a mistake he never made on The Farm, not at all. No, the boys and girls on the farm were clothed most of the time, especially in the mixed-sex groups. They slept nude, it was true, and showers were open, and toilets were not only open by in the center of the room where the boys could be watched from all sides as they did their business, but that was in their sex-segregated dorm rooms, and only constituted a small part of the day. Kids were normally clothed, and that made removing clothing for punishment that much more effective.

So most of the wards wore a knee-length tunic with sleeves and a neck opening tight enough to reveal very little of the swelling breasts of the pubertal girls. Most also wore underpants under the tunics – white cotton, little boy style fly-front briefs for the boys, white cotton, little girl style panties for the girls. Being fully clothed most of the time, the shame of being undressed for spanking or for other punishments was far more severe than if his wards went naked continuously. This enhanced the contrast between those currently in favor and those being punished. Having to stand naked at lunch in the stocks, for example, would not have been nearly as effective if all the other children were bare, too.

Besides, The Reverend thought to himself – having a child be naked continuously deprived one of one of the more delicious aspects of punishing him or her – the joy of slowly sliding clothing aside and revealing the child's secrets – the pleasure of seeing what was normally hidden, and the additional pleasure of the child's embarrassment as those secrets were revealed to all.

When the boys first arrived at The Farm, for example, and he finally beckoned them to stand uncertainly in front of him, he experienced one of the greatest joys God had felt fit to grant him – the rush of excitement that came with the undressing of the boy. Most came in dress pants and shirts, the mothers insisting they make as good an impression as possible in their first meeting with their new master. A few came in jeans and a t-shirt, but that was just as good, too. He'd caution the boy to keep his hands at his sides or make him place them behind his head, then he'd reach over very deliberately, with the boy watching in rising fear, and, using his thumb, brush open the snap on the pants, enjoying the satisfying click it made as it parted, the pressure of the stomach making the top separate slightly. Then, just as deliberately, he'd dig into the fly, pressing the boy's firm upper crotch as he did, and grasp the zipper handle, slowly and steadily pulling it down, down over the bulge most boys' genitals made, letting his fingers trail across the underpants that sagged out the opening fly, often feeling the penile cylinder fleetingly pass under his fingers as he did. Then, excitement mounting in him, he'd lift both hands and slip them under the sagging waist band, running them down the boy's flanks, following the smooth curvature of the boy's underpants--covered buttocks as he slipped them over the curve of the boy's fundament and down the back of his bare legs, feeling the boy's shiver as his modesty was stripped away, leaving him standing in his underpants, bare legs showing in front of his master and the Lord. The Reverend would raise his hands once again to the boy's fundament, cupping his buttocks, feeling the resiliency there, the twitch of the muscles as the boy dealt with being touched in that intimate place with only the thin layer of his underpants between the Reverend's hands and his bare skin. Sometimes the Reverend would comment, addressing the boy, assuring him that his buttocks were nice and firm and would be able to tolerate a strong and lengthy spanking, but most of the time he would simply lift the boy by the waist and draw him across his lap in the time – honored humiliation position for spanking that made all boys, even almost grown ones, feel like they were 5-year-olds.

Of course, the second visit of each boy was always better. Because on the second visit, the boy would be in his school tunic, and the Reverend would reach down and raise it from the floor until it was under the boy's arms, then order the boy to hold it there himself, with his bare stomach and legs contrasting with the white briefs. Then the Reverend would lower his hands to position on either side of the boy, curving around his back, and slip them under the waistband of the briefs, sliding them down over the jutting curve of his buttocks in back and dragging the front over his genitals in the process, easing the cloth over the apex of his fundament and feeling it loosen as it bagged down and fell the rest of the way down his legs to his ankles, the boy's crotch suddenly in the open, feeling the shock of cool air. He'd glance at the boy's privates, the staff and the jewels, choosing which time-honed comment to make for this particular boy. "I see you've been playing with yourself despite our warnings!" always worked well, and so did "It's clear you've been having unholy thoughts!" Of course, the best remarks were those that ridiculed the boy's scepter of God or his jewels of Adam themselves. For the immature, size references were always good. "Hmmmm…a bit behind your peers in development, I see," was good, and so was, "I can see why you're so modest around all the other boys – I would be too." Or even, "We may have to have the doctor examine your genitals, boy – there doesn't seem to be much there, if you know what I mean." Sometimes, just for shock value, he'd lift the boy's penis, hold it out and examine the underside, frowning and shaking his head as if disappointed with every aspect of the boy's manliness.

It was funny how even well-hung, quite well-developed boys would fall for this. Part of the reason, he guessed, was that they'd seen too much Internet porn, depicting male porn stars with freakishly big equipment, and read too many porn stories describing men and even boys with 9-inch or ten-inch or even foot-long tools. Oh, there were such people, but there weren't many of them – he'd discovered that long ago. Even his own member, measuring slightly better than 7 inches erect, topped most males, and he'd read that the range from 5 ½ to 7 inches (measured from the top, of course) took in more than 95% of the grown male population. But even so, an adolescent boy with a respectable 6 incher of decent width still felt like he was probably inadequate, and anyone seeing it would laugh, and the Reverend could play off of that easily.

It helped that almost no boys were in their glory when reporting to him for their first bare-butt spankings. Most were frightened out of their minds. And well they should be. The other boys talked to the newbies, of course, filling them with horror stories of the spankings each of them had received at the Reverend's hands. And those stories weren't really exaggerated – the Reverend spanked boys hard, slow, and for long periods of time leaving the boys bruised and blistered when he was done, often walking stiffly and sitting painfully even 2 weeks later. As several spankings occurred daily, they would all have seen the puffy-faced, flushed boys moving stiffly about their work after a visit to his office, and he knew the ward leaders often displayed the bare fundaments of the boys when they returned from punishment to the others in their groups, hoping to strike more terror in them as well as humiliate the recently spanked. And because the boys knew what happened when you were called to the Reverend's office, their scepters would shrink, often down to almost nothing, while they awaited their own ordeals, the cut boys' scepters becoming nothing but little elevator buttons barely visible above their equally shrunken jewels. And the uncut ones would become little saggy anteater noses, the scepters inside them hiding in the body, the loose foreskin hanging out covering nothing.

The boys' lack of arousal and inability to sexually respond was always confirmed when touched and held, as well. Of course, the act of touching a boy's holy scepter for one's own sexual enjoyment was a venial sin. But the Reverend knew that gripping it for chastisement was another matter – even a holy duty for a man of God such as him. Thus, the Reverend usually gripped the boy's scepters to hold them still over his lap while he blistered their fundaments mercilessly. The uncut ones he often gripped by the loose foreskin alone, a grip he knew from his own experiences with his stepmother and stepsister was quite effective and painful. The cut ones he gripped right behind the penis head, so the bulge of the glans would make breaking free nearly impossible, no matter how hard the boy kicked and bucked. For both, he stretched the scepter out as far as possible after getting his grip, minimizing the bucking the boy was willing to do even during the worst, most painful spanking, and making escape pretty much unthinkable without risking leaving the scepter behind.

The boys with penises so shrunken they barely projected allowed another opportunity for embarrassment of the boy – The Reverend would attempt to grip their penis head, digging into the body and pinching painfully, then announce that he couldn't get it, it was so small, and order the boy to rub himself until his organ grew enough to be held. He loved the blushing discomfort they all showed as they pressed their fingertips against their tiny projecting nubs, trying to coax them to stiffen enough to at least show, while holding their tunics up by the other side with their free hand at the same time. He'd make them work their organs until they finally gained in size, no matter how long it took, and the longer it took, the more embarrassed the boy always became.

He pictured, for a moment, the next step – gripping the fleshy nub, hoisting the boy into place, feeling the heat of the boy's groin against the hand gripping the scepter, and maybe the twitch of the scepter itself trying to adjust to the overly familiar touch. Adjusting the tunic, pushing the cloth up until it was tight against the arms, so that the back was visible as well as the bare buttocks and legs. Maybe pushing the underpants down to the ankles, or sliding them all the way off, out of the way. Resting his rough hand, calloused from giving many spankings, against the soft skin, feeling the boy's startled twitch when he did. Caressing that soft skin with its toughness underneath, gently sensitizing the boy's fundament, prolonging the unfortunate boy's agony of waiting and drawing all his attention to that area of bare, vulnerable flesh less than a foot square. Pausing repeatedly and raising his hand, watching the boy tense and perhaps clench his buttocks, each lad holding his breath as he awaited that first stinging spank that would mark the beginning of his agony. The Reverend would keep his hand in the air for long moments, then lower again and continue the sensitization process, often repeating this several times over many long minutes. (This wasn't a process he followed much with the girls – most began sobbing when their panties were pulled down, and simply sobbed harder and harder the longer he rubbed their fundaments, the result being that by the time he spanked them they were already sobbing so hard they hardly increased their cries at all as he blistered their bare skin. Thus, in general, it was much more satisfying to spank the girls immediately instead, and to hear their shocked gasps as their punishments started more quickly than they were expecting.)

Some of the boys would beg, then, after several long minutes of delay. Beg him to not to spank them, or, more often, beg him to hurry up and spank them and get it over with. Such begging usually prolonged the process, made the Reverend simply keep rubbing that soft skin, until the boy despaired of ever getting it over with. When the moment was right, and the Reverend always knew when the moment was right, he'd raise his hand one more time. The boy, now doubting he'd ever be spanked, would often lurch in surprise when the horny hand would crash down rapidly this time, the loud smack of skin on skin echoing in the room as the nerve endings in the lad's now extremely sensitive bottom came alive and scream in protest at their treatment. That righteous, God-inspired smack would be followed by another, and another, and another, the fundament taking on a pink, irritated hue. The Reverend made certain that each boy who'd been begging for the spanking to start always regretted that choice one his waiting was over.

The Reverend smiled to himself at a new innovation he'd just added to the ritual. He'd come upon it by accident – he'd been spanking a fairly new inductee for the second time – a sassy little slut of a girl who'd been caught by her foster father, a very religious man, sucking the holy scepter of a boy older than her after sharing a crack pipe with him. The foster parent had taken the girl to one of the Reverend's pet judges and had her officially remanded to the Farm for an indefinite period. On this occasion, the Reverend had just gotten her fundament a nice, blushing pink and had her squealing and kicking when his secretary had come in to announce that the Reverent had an important visitor in the outer building (the building used for show, of course) who simply couldn't wait in meeting him. He'd lifted the girl, keeping her in the spanking position, and had set her back down bent over his chair, and had gone out to talk to the VIP. Returning 10 minutes later, he'd found the girl standing by his desk, her underpants still at her ankles and her tunic hiked up in back, her hands ruefully cupping her pink cheeks as she tried to sniff away the snot that ran down her face to her chin. She seemed oblivious to the lewd display her bare genitals were making to him in that position. "Where were we?" he'd asked cheerfully as he entered. "Well, no matter – we'll just start your spanking from the beginning again."

"Nooooooo!" the girl had wailed, terror suffusing her face as the implications of his words had dawned on her. The Reverend quickly realized that she'd thought her spanking was done when he'd left. Hearing that it would start again, from the beginning, with her bottom still throbbing painfully and the memory of the experience still fresh in her mind had filled her with obvious terror. She was shaking violently as he settled her over his lap, and her sobs were heartfelt and real as he mercilessly did exactly as he'd said, giving her a complete spanking from beginning to end just as if she hadn't already gotten most of one minutes before. He had resolved tthen o schedule such an interruption the next time he had a visit for discipline from one of the more intransigent boys, to see if the effect was just as strong with those bearing a scepter as it was with those equipped with the sacred garden.

Back to the present. The four boys, two in various states of undress, had carried the device Mrs. Rose had called the horse to the front of the room. Mrs. Rose was demonstrating the attachment at the far end of the horse, where the child's crotch was supposed to go when he or she was strapped on it. Instead of the hump that had crushed poor Jimmy Chen's balls so mercilessly, there was now a finger-like projection sticking out at a 45 degree angle, roughly 3 inches long and maybe ¾ of an inch wide. The Oriental boy was the first to get it. "It's a dick!" he said out loud. "A plastic dick!"

"But…"Jimmy sputtered. "I meant penis, I really did!" he said earnestly. "I'm sorry! I meant penis! I meant to say it looks like a penis!"

"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, young man," the Reverend intoned.

"Exactly," Mrs. Rose said. "You need to study the subject until you learn it. Now get those pants off and give them to me!"

Jimmy, sighing, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and pulled them down, sitting down on the top of Emily's desk in his underpants to work them over his shoes laboriously rather than slipping his shoes off and back on again. He handed them to Mrs. Rose, and then stood there uncertainly in school shirt, shoes, and boxer briefs that were an improbably bright blue in color.

"Now pull your genitals through the fly of your underpants and arrange it so they stay out," Mrs. Rose said. "Perhaps you'll remember what a penis is called if you can see it the rest of the day."

Jimmy, looking embarrassed, fished in his underpants and drew out his twisted penis, letting go of it and letting it hang out of his fly. He looked at Mrs. Rose.

"Your scrotum, too," Mrs. Rose snapped. Jimmy fished guiltily into his underpants again, this time dragging out his slightly sagging balls. To his horror, his penis was stiffening with all the handling.

"Very good," Mrs. Rose said. "Now, to help you to remember what this is called," she said, flicking his penis contemptuously with her fingertips," I will provide you with some crib notes." She fished in a cavernous pocket and extracted a Sharpie, with which she wrote the word "PENIS" in capital letters along the length of Jimmy's organ, which responded to her handling by becoming fully hard. She dropped the pen back in her pocked. "That should make it easier for you to remember, Mr. Chen. You merely need to look down."

She turend back to the horse. "Your crude terminology notwithstanding, Mr. Chen, you were essentially correct. This appendage is indeed designed to resemble the male organ, and it would normally go into a female miscreant's vagina to help secure her on the horse. Normally, it wouldn't be possible to affix a boy to such a device, but Mr. Gitt is a quite unusual boy, and I doubt we'll have much trouble making him fit." She stalked over to the bound Emily, lifted her easily around the waist, and carried her to the horse. Arriving at the bottom end, the one with the projecting appendage, she hefted Emily higher, lined the swollen, sopping wet pinkness of her ragged vulva up with the smooth, upturned shaft, and then slid her onto it, impaling her smoothly and neatly. Emily's mother was already squatting by the legs of the horse, releasing Emily's legs from the Velcro straps only briefly enough to tie them to the spread inverted V of the horse, working quickly to secure her daughter while she was still adjusting to the shock of the invader that now was impaling her so neatly.

Moments later, Mrs. Rose pushed Emily down onto her stomach and untied the hands that had been tied behind her, letting the Reverend yank first one and then the other down to the legs of the far side of the horse and bind them tightly. In moments Emily was completely immobilized, her side to the class. The class as a group could see little from that angle, but the four boys who'd brought in the horse were all standing to the left side, so Emily's butt was facing them directly. Chad, Randy, Jimmy, and S. F. were treated to a bird's eye view of Emily's swollen cunt, impaled on the plastic sausage in a cruel imitation of lovemaking. Her blistered butt was a mass of red dots and purpling bruises, in contrast with her brown butt crack, which was unmarred by any spanking thus far. (But it wouldn't remain that way if she was to be paddled on the horse, Chad realized quickly, remembering how Jimmy's butt had looked when he'd been whipped all the way into his crack in that position). Her ragged, almost black butt hole was as disturbing looking as ever, reminding Chad of a picture in a children's monster book of the dark toothless mouth of one creature that swallowed little boys whole. The Reverend was also struck by the distinctive color of this girls' orifice of elimination, which reminded him of nothing quite so much as the anus of a black goat a neighbor had once owned, an animal with an upturned tail that always left that organ displayed to all the laughing children in the neighborhood.

From the point of view of the class, who could only see Emily's flanks, it was more the boys who were a sight to see. Randy didn't look particularly noteworthy except for his huge girth, but S. F. was wearing only a school shirt, his thin, still nettle-scarred and blistered buttocks mostly in view in back. His genitals were mostly covered because he was holding an ice pack to them in front with one hand, but the head of his incongruously big penis stuck out no matter how he moved his shielding hand. Chad, of course, was completely naked, his dozen or so pubic hairs looking incongruous as well in comparison to his small, shrunken penis (which had reverted to something resembling an outie belly button more than anything else in the cool of the room, thus revealing the equally immature appearance of his tight little sack). And Jimmy – Jimmy had a hard on, of course, partially because of the handling by himself and Mrs. Rose, and partially from feasting his eyes, as he was, on Emily's bare genitalia. Per Mrs. Rose's orders, that hard on was projecting out the fly of his boxer briefs above his balls, (half again the size of Chad's, but nothing compared to S. F.'s set) the shaft twisting to the right and the gnarled skin a sharp contrast to Chad's smooth, symmetrical organ. Jimmy was having a hard time standing still, and his curved penis was bouncing as he shifted from one foot to the other, calling attention to itself.

Mrs. Rose looked at the clock. "Line up for lunch," she said. "Boys, you will be in charge of moving the horse to the platform in front. Place Mr. Gitt with his bottom facing out and his head toward the wall, so that all the other children can see what awaits miscreants at our school. Mr. Gitt's body will be free game for all students during lunch, of course, who will be allowed to explore as much as they wish as long as their touch doesn't become abusive. Mr. Chen, Mr. Farlow, Mr. Henson, and Mr. Martinez, you will eat on chairs next to Mr. Gitt on the platform and supervise the other students. As there will be quite a number of students desiring to touch Mr. Gitt, I would suggest limiting each to 30 seconds. It will be up to you four to make sure everyone has equal turns to explore Mr. Gitt's anatomy and to decide if the other students are going too far in their enthusiasm. Mr. Gitt, if you object to anything a student is doing to you, take it up with the four of them. Now, on the count of three, boys, lift your corners, and we'll proceed."