Tommy's Attitude Adjustment Chapter 83
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 83:

At the front of the classroom, bare ass still spread on the horse and exposed to the class, plastic rod still uncomfortably impaling her pussy, Emily Git had forced herself to stop bawling like a toddler. It wasn't that she hurt any less – her entire hindquarters were a pulsing mass of hurt, the skin burning, the muscles underneath throbbing. It's just that bawling wasn't helping anything, and was probably giving Microdick, Piggy, Whizzer, and the rest of the stupid people in her class with pricks in their pants entirely too much satisfaction. She needed to think, not to sob like a toddler. In the short run, she needed to think about how she was going to get out of the final punishment promised to her today, what Mrs. Rose has called a "genital switching." She tried to picture the situation the way Mrs. Rose had described it – her tied to the diaper cart the way Chad and later Alan had been for their diaperings in front of class. Lying face up, of course, with her upper body strapped down. Her legs lifted to either side of the head and strapped down as well, so her ass would be the highest part of her body, her butt split wide and her entire genital and anal region wide open and facing the class, even more exposed than she was now. That vampire brat Farlow was supposed to switch her there, in that very delicate place, and she had no doubt he was relishing the prospect, probably with his ridiculous big dick hard and sticking up like a stupid unicorn horn from his crotch. She'd destroyed his pants and crammed his underpants in his mouth, so he'd be naked this very minute, sitting at his desk with his shame out for all to see. Not that this did her any good, since she couldn't see the children behind her at all at the moment. She tried to picture his huge-looking sausage hard but came up empty – part of the problem was that she didn't like big dicks – she didn't like them at all. Actually, she didn't like little dicks, either, but at least she could make fun of Chad's. But that stupid Bela Lugosi impersonator had a pole that had shocked her the first time she'd seen it, when he'd been bared in front of class for his spanking with Mr. Sparky. It had been almost frightening, especially from her bird's eye view from about 3 feet away. He'd had a huge bush of hair, then, too, as thick as stupid Joey Turpin hairy crotch. But that was gone now, apparently removed during a punishment he'd gotten at home, also a result of her machinations. She almost smiled to herself despite the throbbing pain in her butt and the future she faced – from the marks on his butt and his genitals, they must have beat him good – just like he deserved. Served Dracula right. (she couldn't bring herself to call him by the ridiculous nickname everyone else used, S. F. It was too cute, and with that big dick of his there was nothing cute about the little white-faced butthole in her opinion.)

Emily couldn't, for the life of her, figure out why girls made such a big deal about dicks, especially big dicks. She'd heard Lindsay and her friends talking about what this or that boy's dick must be like in quiet corners during lunch, and wondered why they'd even care. Although she liked making fun of stupid Chad's pathetic little dick, and Randy Martinez's disappearing dork was a gift from heaven for a girl with a malicious streak, her mocking them for having little boy weenies didn't mean she thought big dicks were any better. Big ones hung down like ridiculous pendulums when they were soft, and were dark and angry and threatening when they got hard. They angled up like big poles, giant, hard, rounded swords. They were all the more threatening because she knew why they got hard and what boys did with them when they got hard – they pinned girls down and shoved their dicks rudely inside the girls, proving and filling them for their own selfish pleasures. That's all they all wanted to do – invade girls and spill their snot-like slime inside them. Why couldn't they just prey on each other and leave the girls like her alone -- shove their stinking dicks up each other's asses and grunt like pigs until spewed their snot. Then they'd leave her and the other girls alone, and that would be just fine with her. Because she'd vowed, from the moment she first saw a man and a woman having sex in an internet clip viewed at a friend's house, that she'd never, ever let that happen to her.

Shame immediately suffused her. Because she'd already broken that promise, hadn't she? Because when she'd had that stupid electric stimulator thing up her butt, she'd gone so mad with desire that she'd ripped off Chad's diaper and straddled him and rammed his little thing snot spewing little-boy weenie right into her cunt. And although she couldn't know that Chad was having trouble even recalling what their brief coupling had felt like, she remembered every bit of it – the hard little stub filling her aching emptiness, the waves of pleasure as she rocked on it, the huge orgasm that had flooded her just before the taser's cold electrodes had contacted her where her slit met her butt hole and cut her pleasure short, or possibly seared it into her brain forwever. She could remember every bit of how Chad's juvenile boyhood had felt inside her. It has been softer, more flexible and yielding than the hard plastic rod that invaded her cunt right now. Considerably more alive. In fact, it had felt good in there, and every part of her from the waist down wanted that feeling again, and not from just anyone, but from hard, bony, undersized, poorly hung Chad. And she hated herself for that desire. Hated herself, because although she tried valiantly to convince herself she hated all dicks and the boys attached to them, in fact, she craved Chad's perfect little tool, loved watching it sway between his legs when it was soft or shrink into the cutest little button when it was even softer, or stand up stubby but resolute and proud when he was engorged. She'd loved his many days naked and exposed to the class during his punishments for that reason quite as much as she'd loved humiliating him and making him cry like the baby he was.

An image came to her unbidden – her on her knees, naked in front of Chad, pulling his pants down frantically, then sliding down his underpants and caressing his tight, muscular boy butt with both hands, hungrily gathering up his soft, stunted boyhood with her tongue and slurping it into her mouth to feel it grow hard and pulsing there. Heat grew in her lower groin with this thought, and he angrily pushed it away. She wouldn't want that thing in her mouth, not now, not ever! She hated Chad, and she hated dicks, so she should hate Chad's dick most of all.

Yet the feeling was there, and it was all she could do to push the fantasy image aside. Still, she forced herself to shift gears, because time was short, and the issue at hand was her next move. They'd have to release her from the horse to put her on the diaper cart. And when she was loose, she'd have a chance to make a move. She couldn't use pleading or charm to obtain her release– she had stupid Piggy's underpants in her mouth, bulging her cheeks and blocking anything but low moans. The cloth was now a sodden mass in her mouth, thoroughly soaked in her drool. She tried not to think about the fact they'd come off a boy's butt just moments before going into her mouth. Off of Piggy's butt. That little slant-eyed, mongrel weasel with the ugliest dick in class. Well, probably the ugliest, with its twist and its folds of skin. If the rods on any of the boys whose dicks she hadn't seen were uglier, she certainly didn't want to see them. Thanks to her efforts in helping along their wrongdoing, there were, after all, only 4 boys left who hadn't appeared naked in front of class. The dick parade included Microdick, of course, and Randy Fatass, and Bela Lugosi, and Joey Horsedick, and Whizzer, and Piggy. She'd had plans in the works to get Big Sam Huber in hot water, too, so that he'd eventually have to show off whatever he had in his pants, and that would have been delicious even though Mrs. Rose would have administered his punishment herself. Now those plans would come to nothing, and it was all Chad the Microdick's fault. He probably as gloating strongly enough that his head was in danger of bursting – she knew she certainly had gloated when the situation was reversed.

Or had her feelings just been gloating? Had she enjoyed watching him get spanked and paddled and paddling him herself because she wanted solely to get him? Or had there been another set of feelings there? She remembered letting her eyes feast on his naked body, staring openly at his tiny penis and tight scrotum with its bulging little marbles inside. She remembered watching his butt flex as he stood naked in front of the classroom, and feeling a visceral thrill when his little penis hardened, standing up straight and perfect, just begging her to feel its deceptively soft skin and the rubbery hardness under it. Oh, she liked making him cry, no question about it, but she liked looking at him, to, looking at his naked genitals, his muscular little butt, even his perfect, pink little asshole.

But she knew it was a lie, and she couldn't bear to think about it anymore. She forced herself, instead, to focus on her own body's current plight rather than ignoring it. God, her butt hurt! It hurt all the way into the crack! It hurt more than she thought a butt could hurt. She had to get away, somehow, when they tried to move her to the diaper cart. Because she couldn't face being whipped on her girl parts – her girl parts, for God's sake! And her crack and her butt hole, too! The pain, the humiliation, it would all be too much!

She also had to consider that she was supposedly going to be taken to Reverend Pervert's Holy Roller Camp that evening sometime. Her mother had implied there'd be punishments for her at home, first, but she couldn't imagine what else could be done to her after what she'd experienced at school today. She'd probably be able to charm her mother out of both the evening punishments and the trip to Bible-Beater Reform School, though, once she could get her mother alone and turn on the charm. Her mother was an airhead, easily swayed by others, and at the moment that made her easy clay for The Nose and Reverend Pervert, but once she got the old woman alone...

She could hear The Nose gathering math papers now that she was quiet herself. The big nosed old bat was chiding boys who hadn't gotten all the problems finished (the girls, having half as many to do, were all praised for their good work). Emily's lips felt chapped, and her face felt crusty with drying snot and tears – there was an embarrassingly wide puddle of tears and snot directly under her face at the front of the horse. The puddle reminded her that she'd peed herself at the start of the vicious paddling she'd just gotten – peed herself like a baby – like Chad had, and Whizzer. And unlike Chad, who'd been lying on his dick when he peed and thus had experienced comparative privacy when he'd lost control, or Whizzer, who'd peed his pants before they were even taken down, she'd done it right in the open, where everyone could see. Well, perhaps not where everyone could see—chances are the pole up her cunt had blocked most of their view. But still, she was now in that very small, elite group of kids who pissed themselves in class. The shame of it was overwhelming for a moment.

No time to stew over spilt milk, or spilled pee, either. At least she hadn't shit herself – couldn't very well, could she, when they'd already cleaned her out? She'd never live it down if she had. No, only Chad had shit himself in class, with a little help from the Ex-Lax his sister had given him. That had been funny as hell, though, and she almost smiled (But couldn't, of course, with Piggy's underpants crammed in her mouth). Served him right. She wondered what it felt like to shit your pants in the middle of class, to have a big, soggy load forcing itself out of your butt, oozing between your buns and filling your crack, packing against our genitals with its limy heat. How did it feel to have that gushy feeling between your legs as you walked. She remembered Chad's odd gait as he'd slunk out of the classroom with Whizzer, diaper drooping. He'd looked like he'd hated it. She wished she'd been there when his diaper was untapped in the nurse's room and he'd been washed off in the shower. She and the other girls had listened breathlessly to Sarah's report of how they'd untaped the diaper, and how gross the contents had been, and how it had clung all around Chad's diminutive genitals. She wish she'd been there. But Sarah had left half way through Chad's cleaning up, and there was no way Alan would tell the girls how Chad had looked and acted after that, the way Sarah had breathlessly related her part. Rumor had it that Alan and Chad had peed into the shower drain after Sarah and the nurse had gone, or perhaps had done some unspeakable worse thing, but she didn't put much credence in rumors – some kids were even saying Alan had rubbed Chad's dick, or put his own dick in Chad's butt, but she doubted that – he just didn't seem to type to her – weren't boys who did sex with other boys supposed to be all swishy and feminine? Alan just didn't fit.

She heard the squeak of wheels rolling down the aisle behind her, where she couldn't see. The diaper cart! They were coming with the diaper cart, and along with it her chance to escape! She had to act beaten, pretend she was so stiff she couldn't move. Or maybe she'd go limp, like she'd given up, and then, when their guard was down, she'd sprint down the aisle, out the door, and this time she wouldn't worry about clothes, she'd run butt naked out of the school and into the surrounding neighborhood, where she'd get lost quickly. She'd find an open door and slip in and steal some clothes, then wait out the day and slip home when her mother was alone and easily malleable.

"Well, Mr. Git?" Mrs. Rose was suddenly standing beside the head of the horse, addressing her. She was shocked to see Mrs. Rose was standing right in front of her gaze, eyes boring into her like she could read Emily's thoughts. "Are you ready for the main event? I suppose not—it's not the sort of thing you can ever be ready for. The pain is going to be unimaginable, and you'll be many days healing. But never has a punishment in my class been so richly deserved, not, at least, since the last boy to receive a genital paddling."

Mrs. Rose didn't add that the last boy to receive a genital paddling had been in a previous class, and the paddling hadn't been planned – she'd merely beaten the boy's penis twice with a wooden ruler because he'd enraged her. And she'd almost been disciplined over that due to the risk of permanent penile damage the ruler had posed. But she'd turned that almost disaster to her advantage, convincing the board that they should acquire some special punishment implements for genital chastisement to avoid the risk she'd run in her rage. Today she'd finally get to put the special equipment that she'd convinced the board to buy to good use. Regretfully, that first use wasn't going to be on a boy's fat little penis or plump balls, but it would still be satisfying.

Emily was not privy to Mrs. Rose's thoughts, of course. She was focused on the fact that her chance was coming. Her heart began racing as her mother began unfastening the ties that held her legs to the horse, and Mrs. Rose was removing the ones around her arms and over her back. Now she'd just stand up slowly, like she could barely move, eye the situation, and then dart the direction that looked most promising, even if that meant leaping out a window. She went to straighten up...

And found out she couldn't. She couldn't move at all. Her butt was frozen in one position and the muscles were cramped and refused to stretch out again. Her arms also remained outstretched and stiff, like she was still tied to the horse, and they wailed their agony when she tried to control them, pins and needles stabbing her arms and legs unbearably. Without being able to do anything, she found herself lifted from opposite sides by Mrs. Rose and her mother, each grapping her by a thigh and a flat boob and raising her bodily to the diaper cart, where she was neatly flipped over, her arms and legs still extended in twin v's the way they had been on the horse. She made a valiant effort to make her body obey her that merely resulted in her arms and legs twitching like she was having a seizure, then, before she could move anything, the chest strap was drawn over right under her armpits and above her small, conical nipples. Her mother grasped her left arm firmly and Mrs. Rose her right, and before she could even react, each arm was forcibly bent, making her howl in agony into the gag as each arem was bent down by her head and Velcroed in place. Then her legs were forciply moved up by her arms and head, her butt shrieking in agony as the bruised muscles were pulled and the blistered skin stretched. When the pain haze receded, Emily Git found herself strapped neatly into the diaper table, her butt high and wide open with her ugly almost black butt hole spread out in all its glory, and her pussy even more open, because the lips stayed apart after their long hours being cleft by the pole of the horse. Her twin holes were facing the class directly, her pussy gaping open after its long invasion by the pole on the horse. The diaper cart was wheeled to the center position in the classroom her butt and genitals facing everyone, so that Chad Henson now had the best view in the house of all her private parts from barely 3 feet away. A thought came to her unwanted – was he hard? Did her open genitals make him excited? She realized, to her horror, that she wanted him to be excited by her, and was picturing him rising and taking her right there, right in front of the class, impaling her open pussy hole with his hard little boy cock.

She'd have been disappointed had she been able to see Chad's crotch at that moment. Chad was staring at her pussy, true, but his small penis was soft and button-like, barely projecting above tightly pulled in balls. He was staring right into her wide open girl place – the hole you were supposed to stick your dick in – in fact, the hole he had stuck his dick in, he corrected himself. Instead of closing tightly like Alan's cousin Chandra's had done, Emily Git's cunt was gaping, so that its purpose of taking in boys' cocks was abundantly clear. He thought, briefly, about the seemingly odd process involved in mating, and how boys were supposed to lie between the girl's legs and stick their things right in there, but he own penis didn't respond to his thought. Mainly, it was that big, black, wrinkled butt hole that was the problem – his eyes kept drifting to it, and it was more than a little repulsive.

Mrs. Rose faced the class. "Mr. Farlow, please come forward, if you please, so that I can explain the apparatus you'll be using." She walked to her desk as S. F., naked from the waist down, stepped up, his overlarge penis swaying, half hard, as he approached. His pendulous balls had lost some of their swelling, yet each individual ball was still bigger than Chad's whole sack, a fact Chad noticed with envy.

Mrs. Rose handed S. F. a short, wooden-handled object with a straight, thin, plastic rod coming out of it. "This, young man, is a genital switch. The plastic is calibrated to be exactly flexible enough that it can sting the genitals without causing permanent damage. If you swing it too hard, the plastic merely bends and the blow can only reach a certain level of strength. You boys may be interested in the fact that the board owns three different sizes of this special genital switch. One is exactly the right flexibility to administer a penile switching, and the second is exactly the right size and shape for scrotal whipping, taking into account the more delicate nature of those objects. This third switch is just right for punishing the anal regions of boys and the surrounding skin, including the perineum. It should be ideal for Mr. Git's rather unusual genital parts."

She moved so that she was standing by Emily's left side, next to her outstretched left leg. "For right-handed people, this is the proper position for administering punishment with the genital switch. You line your arm up parallel with the center line of the body, bringing the switch down sharply on the genital region." She demonstrated the motion, stopping the switch just short of striking the very center of Emily's spread pussy. Emily, who of course was staring directly down her centerline, flinched and tensed for the blow that didn't come. "I would recommend that you start by striking around the central orifices of Mr. Git's body first, these areas here and here," She said, waving the tip of the thin, whippy plastic rod along either side of Emily's vulva, and then along the insides of Emily's now widely spread butt crack, on either side of her wide, dark hole. "Then, after those areas have been thoroughly whipped, you can move on to direct some of the blows directly on the center anal and genital structures. The most delicate and sensitive areas are here," she said, pointing directly to the center of Emily's wide, almost black anal eye, "and here," pointing to the girl's ragged, now open genital furrow, and then to her large, prominent clitoris. "I suggest you work your way up to those areas to build the anticipation and dread of the procedure. The whip end will make a whistling noise as it cuts through the air if you're swinging vigorously enough. If it does not whistle, you need to swing harder. Don't worry about swinging to hard – the flexibility of the whip will prevent you from striking harder than adolescent skin can bear." She handed the whip to S. F, then turned and looked Emily square in the eyes, her face hard. "Prepare for pure hell, Mr. Git," she said. "You deserve all of it and more for betraying the trust of your classmates and for making a fool of me." She nodded to S. F., who looked rather uncertain standing there with his genitals and still-marked butt on display holding the whip limply in one hand. His penis had noticeably shriveled, so that it was a dangling 4 1/2 inches or so rather than a semi-rigid 5 plus, as it had been when he'd first stood up. "You may begin, Mr. Farlow," Mrs. Rose intoned said. Her voice had the ring of a Warden saying, "throw the switch."

S. F. trembled just perceptibly and bit his lip. His eyes went from the eagerly staring class to Mrs. Rose, then to the face of his new friend Chad, who was sitting right in front of his position on account of having Emily's seat for the duration. Chad looked S. F. in the eyes and nodded, pursing his lips firmly. "This is for all of us," he mouthed. S. F. looked puzzled and Chad wasn't sure he understood, but suddenly S. F.'s arm snapped down and he flicked his wrist sharply. The whippy rod smacked into the right side of Emily's bare vulva with a peculiar "fwit" noise. A thin, red line appeared immediately where it had struck, a line that rose perceptibly from the surrounding skin. Emily's body stiffened a fraction of a second later, then her thighs shuddered, her butt hole contracted like a winking eye, and she let out an anguished moan around the huge gag. S. F. let several seconds go by, long enough for Emily's attempt at clenching her butt to reach its height and start to relax, then struck again, laying a perfect matching line down the left side of the girl's bare vulva. The two stripes, paralleling the pink, ragged furrow of her pussy, almost made it look like she had three cunts, two demurely closed, one wide open. Emily's butt shuddered even longer this time, and her butt hole clenched convulsively. S. F. let several seconds go by, turning his head to examine the expression on her face as he waited. Emily's mouth worked convulsively on the gag, a portion of which stuck out between her lips. Her eyes were squeezed into slits, and her face had taken on a bright red hue. S. F. nodded at her seriously and turned back to his target, eyeing her wide open private area for his next target.

Slightly built, ridiculously well-hung Sam Farlow too this responsibility seriously, more seriously than his classmates would have imagined. Emily had sinned, sinned most grievously. She'd broken multiple commandments – she'd born false witness, she'd dishonored her mother and her whole family, she'd taken the Lord's name in vain, and, just before lunch, she'd thrown herself on Chad, and, if S. F. understood correctly, had done what the Bible called "lying with him," thus committing adultery. He had been appointed as the instrument of her chastisement, the literal hand of God, and he was determined to administer the punishment fairly and thoroughly. He didn't even consider Emily's anal and genital region for the forbidden, hidden girl parts they were – they were just errant flesh in need of correction. Nodding to himself, he raised the switch and brought it down along the inside of Emily's butt crack, first on the left side, then, several seconds later, on the right. He paused then, listening to her now continuous pitiful moaning, then swiftly raised the switch again and brought it down twice in quick succession on either side of her butt hole again. Stepping back a second, he watched her face as her body shuddered and her butt tried fruitlessly to squeeze itself closed, her butt hole now in constant motion. The four stripes he'd put down her crack wiggled like little snakes as he waited. He stared at Emily's fiery red, puffy face with its glaring eyes, and unspoken message passed between them, the determined boy and the unrepentant girl, a message that was primarily scorching hate on Emily's part, and righteous determination on S. F.'s. Reading the lack of repentence on the girl's face, S. F. nodded at her frimly. If that's the way she wanted it, that was the way it was going to be. He turned back to her privates, laying down two more lines, this time on either side of her pussy, and then laid four more blows down either side of her butt crack.

And so it continued, S. F. alternating two blows to the pussy and four to the butt crack, spreading the blows out so that they lay right next to each other but didn't cross, until the lips of Emily's pussy and the length of her butt crack were solid red. Then, as her moans became agonized, muffled shrieks, he began methodically criss-crossing the blows, making livid red blotches where the lines intersected. Emily's body shuddered and shook, and tears and snot sprayed from her twisting head in all directions. She wasn't a human now – there were no coherent thoughts in her head beyond pain like a blast furnace on her most private parts, and the constant message from those parts to escape, escape, ESCAPE! S. F. ignored her muted convulsions and didn't seem to mind when her tears and snot splashed him – he just focused on his task. Her eyes had changed, and he was heartened by that—the hate was gone, and only suffering was there, suffering, and, maybe, the dawning of acceptance and understanding. Or maybe that was just his hoping that he was seeing.

Chad Henson watched from his position just 3 feet away with firm resolve as his new friend beat Emily Git on the pussy lips and the butt crack. He was going to make sure he saw all of this – he wanted to remember it forever. It was a rawer scene than he'd anticipated – the red stripes of the switch, the puffiness of the abused cunt lips all raised empathy in him that he didn't know he could feel. This was Emily Git, he told himself. Emily, who'd gotten him spanked repeatedly, and who'd spanked him herself, yanked his privates, and tried to frame him for theft. If it was him up there, getting his balls and butt hole beaten, she'd be giggling with happiness. He should be enjoying her complete humiliation and suffering Yet something inside him was repulsed by this scene, the methodical damaging of a girl's nether regions solely to cause her as much pain as possible. He knew she deserved this, deserved this and more, and that if it had been him tied to the diaper table (and it could very well have been had things gone another way) she'd be cheerfully whipping his own baby balls this very minute. Still, his stomach churned at the sight of her suffering, and his penis had shriveled to an almost invisible button, signaling its disapproval of the maltreatment of this special place on the girl. A place where his dick, hard then, had happily nestled just before lunch. His brain, though, clamped down on those feelings firmly. She deserved all this and more. He'd have to be tougher – not think about her feelings, but about her crimes. He turned his somber gaze on S. F., who was pausing between a series of strokes again, looking like he was having trouble finding more skin to stripe. S. F. met Chad's eyes, and Chad nodded firmly and meaningfully, his own stony gaze saying "now" with all its might. Maybe there was a telepathic link between them, or maybe the fact it was time was obvious, but S. F. met his eyes, nodded firmly, and slowly lowered the tip of the rod until it was centered right across Emily's enormous butt hole. The he raised the rod higher than he had up to the point, stared fixedly at his target, and waited for the class' full attention. The group, who had been excitedly exchanging comments up to this point, noted his stance one by one and grew silent, all eyes on him. Emily seemed not to notice the change, still twisting her head and wailing, sending tears and snot in all directions, her butt and cunt quivering. S. F. still waited, then slowly tapped the rod tip to Emily's quaking anus and raided it again, pausing with it held high. Emily gradually came to her senses, realizing that the blows had stopped for some time. The significance of the gentle taps on her butt hole suddenly registered. "NOOOOOOOOOO!" she screamed into the gag, although all that came out was a muffled "MMMMMMMMPH!" Her eyes focused, blearly, on the tip of the rod, terror suffusing her face.

S. F. realized the moment had come. He brought the switch down swiftly, letting the tip smack her right on the wrinkled line where the muscles clenched the tightest, the tip whistling loudly as it descended. Emily's body stiffened, straining the straps, then bucked mightily. She sucked in air around the gag and in through her snot-blowing nose and let out an unearthly wail, snot blown out three feet to land on the floor near Mrs. Rose as she did. A red welt appeared crossing the wrinkle pattern of the part of her butt hole adjoining her pussy. Unperturbed by either her cries or the flying snot, S.F. calmly tapped her butt hole again and struck next to where he'd just landed the first blow. Four more times he struck Emily's butt hole, leaving a mass of parallel stripes crossing the narrow, concentric wrinkles. Finally, he leaned over and looked at the now puffy, swollen orifice and gave Chad a grim almost smile. "

Chad, almost sickened by the ugly stripes crossing the wrinkle pattern of his hated rival's delicate anus, nodded back seriously. Pooping was going to be bitch for her for awhile, he though absently. He remembered his agony in the days following running the gauntlet, where only enemas turning his bowels to water gave him relief, and even then elimination had burned like fire. He'd dreaded every trip to the toilet. She'd probably be impaired there for a month. I hope she has to go 10 times a day, he thought to himself. Serve her right.

Emily was thrashing as much as she could with her body tied down, which meant she was flinging her head from side to side while the rest of her body quaked impotently. S. F. calmly moved back a bit and lined the switch up with the length of her pussy, drawing it down the open slit. Emily, registering the touch, began wailing and thrashing louder. S. F. ignored her. With a fine sense of timing, he raised the switch over her pussy, waited until everyone was holding his or her breath, and then brought it down hard right down the middle of the open slit. Without pausing to see her reaction, he brought it down again, and again, and again, angling into both sides of the delicate, pink furrow and dyeing it a deep red in the process. Finally, nodding with a grim smile again, he paused and then lined the switch up with the bulging button of her oversized clitoris. Chad found himself holding his breath as he watched. That could have been his penis, with Emily preparing to switch it, but fate had been kind. Still, he jumped slightly in his seat and his own retracted penis flinched in sympathy as S. F. laid 5 hard blows onto the organ from various angles, leaving it puffy and swollen as the girl's cunt opening and her livid, now red and puffy asshole. Finishing the fifth blow, S. F. let his hands drop to his sides. "I'm done," he said loudly, over Emily's unearthly, muffled wailing. Flecks of her snot and tears continued to scatter around her twisting head. Her clitoris was already swelling, looking even more like a little boy's penis, but a bright red, angry little boy's penis.

"Fine. Take your seat," Mrs. Rose said shortly. She glanced at S. F.'s long, snaky genital appendage, apparently satisfied to see the boy was unaroused by what he'd just done. In fact, if anything, he was less aroused than he'd ever appeared when naked. Glancing around the room, she was equally pleased to see that the Henson boy was also completely unaroused, his penis barely projecting enough to acknowledge that he was, indeed, a male or at least a male of sorts. Moving to put the genital whip on her desk, she let her eyes seek out and examine Jimmy Chen's still bare crotch, noting that his twisted, curved organ was standing at attention in contrast with those of the other boys. In fact, he seemed to be veering a smug smile. Well, one couldn't expect miracles. The Chen boy was a perverted, oversexed little heathen and would clearly need some more working over on the part of her and her remaining discipline assistant. She'd have to blister that butt before the end of the week or she'd lose him entirely. Or perhaps he'd give her an excuse to bring out the other two genital whips. She almost licked her lips as she thought about tying the boy on the cart with his legs apart and taking her new toy to his tightly wrinkled, bulging little sack. He'd give her an excuse – you didn't have to manufacture them like the Git creature had done. Oh, yes, he'd give her an excuse. It was just a matter of patience. That was the trouble with the Git creature – no patience. She had the instinct, but not the judgment. Maybe this little episode would teach her judgment. She had shown a promisingly firm hand with the boys prior to her downfall, and that ability could be molded and cultivated once she learned her lesson. Meanwhile, though, there would be other boys to strip and display to their peers, other boys she could point out the inadequacies of, and other boys to punish. Trembling, frightened, white faced boys with shrunken genitals and tight butts she could humiliate in front of all their peers. Boys she should methodically spank or paddle, or savor their shame while dear Lindsay worked them over. There would always be boys to discipline. Because boys were boys.