Chad's Anger Management Training Chapter 32

Chad's Anger Management Training Chapter 32
by Chadlad

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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 32: Lindsay Gets to the Bottom of Alan's Problem

Chad cried uncontrollably over Emily's lap for a good 5 minutes before Mrs. Rose lifted him from under his arms and plunked him on his rubbery legs, facing the class. As before, his legs collapsed from under him the first two times he tried to stand, but he managed to keep them under him when she offered to let Emily heat his butt up some more. She made him stand there displaying his puffy eyes and tear-streaked face as well as his tortured genitals while she procured Kleenexes to wipe the snot and tears from his face and his chest. Then, as usual, he was turned around so that the class could see the effects of Emily's spanking on his bare butt. After several minutes in that position, Chad was ordered to grasp his ankles so the class could see how far into his butt crack his spanking extended (as well as get a good look at the boy's anus and his tight ball sack where his legs joined). As before, when Chad bent over, no penis was visible from the back side. To Cynthia's disappointment, the white circle of the butt plug obscured entirely any view of his butt hole. (Emily, who didn't like looking at butt holes on boys, animals, or even in her own mirror, thought that the presence of the butt plug improved Chad's appearance tremendously, especially when he was viewed from this angle.)

After sniffling there for some minutes, he was allowed to straighten up again, where he stood facing the class with his hands behind his head until his crying and hiccupping had subsided. His penis finished its disappearing act once again, and his scrotum flattened itself as much as possible against his body, outlining each of his small orbs and emphasizing their immaturity.

At length, Chad's spanking chair was dragged to the left side of the room instead of the corner. When Emily asked why Chad wasn't going to the corner, Mrs. Rose commented that he had every right to a good view of Alan's discipline, given that Alan was one of the reasons he'd gotten disciplined himself. Chad sat gingerly on the chair, sniffling and wiping at his eyes, and dutifully brought his feet up to the first rung, wincing and trying not to burst out crying at the renewed pain from his sore rump. "Second rung," Mrs. Rose ordered. Chad winced as he carefully raised his feet to the higher rung. In this new position, the centers of his buns screamed with pain, and his buns spread apart so that the butt plug shifted, pressing more painfully against his sphincter. Emily, long since returned to her seat, sat grinning at Chad mockingly, giving him a wink every time she caught his eye and patting her hands together in mocking spanking motions or making squeezing fists with her hands.

Meanwhile, Alan had been forced to stand naked, with his nose against the board, during Chad's entire spanking and his crying session in front of the class afterward. His arms were tired, his legs were tired, and his feet were tired. But more than that, he was terrified. He'd been spanked, paddled, and whipped with a belt by his mother many times before, but not in public. He could plead, beg, bawl, and act like a baby when his mother whipped him, but at least no one witnessed his humiliating squalling and wriggling as he was whipped or spanked. This was going to be different. Everyone in class would see every humiliating detail of his reactions as his butt was soundly paddled. They'd see every flinch, every kick, every squeeze of his butt, and every facial expression as he cried through his punishment. They'd all hear him beg and squeal and bawl like a baby. They'd all watch his butt redden and blister, just as he'd watched Chad's and Joey's and Jimmy's butts redden and blister when they'd had their turns. As was the case with them, he'd have to display his genitals from all sides during this process, and even bend over and let everyone see his butt hole! Plus he had the added humiliation that a 13-year-old girl was going to be the one administering his punishment, and that this girl was almost certainly going to restrain him by his balls and probably squeeze them so hard he couldn't stand it, just as she had done to Jimmy, and Emily had apparently done to Chad just now. He mentally reviewed Jimmy's and Chad's incoherent sobbing after Emily had given the old family jewels a good squeeze. That would be him in just moments!

He wanted it over with. But he didn't want it to start yet. Thus, he was relieved and petrified when Mrs. Rose finally said, "Now that Chad has been finally settled, Mr. Delvecchio, I think it's time we attended to your punishment. Please come stand on the tape line."

Heart pounding, Alan reluctantly turned around and approached the tape, treating the girls to a lively show as his long, slender penis bounced from side to side with each step. Mrs. Rose had obtained a second spanking chair during lunch from another classroom, which she slid over to the center position. Lindsay seated her willowy form in the chair and settled the spanking towel on her lap. Mrs. Rose spoke. "Alan Delvecchio, you have engaged in behavior of a disgusting sort, including actions too egregious to reveal to your classmates. Accordingly, you will be punished by a severe paddling on your bare bottom, to be administered by a female classmate. Because she will undoubtedly cause blisters and other breaks in your skin during this punishment, you must be checked for cleanliness prior to your punishment. Please face the front of the classroom, bend over all the way, and reach back and separate your bottom as far as it will go."

Alan assumed the bent over position, his spread bottom facing the class. Humiliated as well as frightened, he pulled his buns slightly apart and looked at Emily sitting in her front row chair from between his legs. Mrs. Rose looked at his butt crack critically from his right side. "Wider, Mr. Delvecchio," she commanded. Alan pulled harder, separating his cheeks more. "Wider," she commanded again. Alan pulled a bit harder. "I said Wider, young man" she chided. "If I have to do it for you, it's going to hurt."

Alan pulled his butt cheeks until the skin between them turned white with stretching. Mrs. Rose finally seemed satisfied, and leaned over to inspect the boy's anal area. Emily, from her seat about 3 feet away, wrinkled her nose with distaste. She enjoyed the sight of the boy's brown scrotum hanging in the wide space between his legs, and the sight of the long, thin penis swaying from side to side gently caused a pleasant tingle in her loins. But that brown, wrinkled butt hole was just too disgusting, she thought. She wished she could just Photoshop the ugly thing out of her otherwise pleasant view.

"Nice and clean, Alan," Mrs. Rose finally concluded. "Not surprising, I guess, given that you were already thoroughly scrubbed earlier, when you were so juvenile as to wet yourself. You may go stand by your Discipline Assistant."

She turned to address the class. "This paddling will be done differently than most others this year," she began. "First, rather than paddling Alan until a particular level of damage has been caused to his bottom or a particular number of blows have been administered, or until he shows a particular level of distress, Lindsay will be giving Alan a timed paddling. A timed paddling does not terminate until the specified amount of time has passed, regardless of how much damage is done the lad's bottom during that time. The duration of your paddling, regardless of damage, shall be set at 4 minutes."

Alan gasped at this announcement, as did a number of his classmates. Four minutes? Joey's spanking had been about that long, but he had a much bigger and tougher bottom than Alan's, and he wasn't being paddled, either, only spanked. Mrs. Rose gave Alan a minute for this pronouncement to soak in. Then she had more bad news for the trembling boy.

"Second, you will be using this to spank Mr. Delvecchio's bottom," Mrs. Rose said to Lindsay, flourishing a device she'd been concealing in her large pockets up to that point. Alan, Lindsay, and the rest of the class looked at it, Alan with horror, everyone else with fascination. The paddle was black, with a round wooden handle roughly a hand span in length. Attached to the handle were a series of 4 strings made of rubber cord of about 3/16ths inch in diameter. They were each about 6 inches long and drooped down from the handle toward the ground. The end of each sting was topped with a slightly bigger rubber bulge.

"We on the faculty call this 'The Stinger,'" Mrs. Rose explained.
"Unlike many other paddles, which were designed for other purposes like hitting ping-pong balls, stirring paint, or brushing hair, this device was specifically designed to cause severe pain in child, adolescent, and even adult bottoms. When swung at the bottom of a miscreant, the little knob on each string creates its own intense sting, so it's like being hit by 4 little whips at once. I've been told it feels much like being stung by 4 bees simultaneously. Each knob raises a welt, but the welts are so small that a boy can withstand many of them without breaking the skin excessively. It also is unlikely to cause permanent damage to a boy's anus or scrotum if one of the knobs happens to strike those structures, although it will create welts on them. It will also cause severe testicular pain if it strikes a boy's testis, but again will not cause permanent damage. As a result, no care need be taken to avoid these structures during the paddling."

Alan was trembling violently now. Multiple bee stings? Can be used on his balls and his butt hole? He was feeling faint. Mrs. Rose went on. "I've only used this particular paddle once before, but I can assure you that the boy on the receiving end was very, very sorry by the time his paddling was done. He was also very loud while being paddled and for quite some time afterward, and he had a very hard time holding still and staying over my lap. For that reason, Mr. Delvecchio, you will have to be restrained by more than your genitals while being spanked, and you will have to be gagged as well."

She turned to Lindsay. "Now before we restrain Alan, I want you to try a few experimental swings, to get a feel for the paddle. We want him to feel extreme pain, but we don't want to cause him serious damage." She walked to the closet, retrieving an oddly shaped pillow. She held it up for the class to see. All the children, especially Alan, stared at it. It was shaped, they realized, exactly like the bare torso of a boy of medium size. Two thigh-like projections came out of the bottom, terminating at about knee level. The other end of the pillow ended at about mid stomach. In between was a fairly accurate duplicate of the twin mounds of a plump adolescent boy's butt. How accurate was quickly demonstrated when Mrs. Rose first separated the twin orbs of the pillow, to show the stitched in asterisk located where the anus would be, and then turned the pillow around so they could see that a tube and small sack dangled from the front.

"I borrowed this from the office. We call it a practice boy, or PB for short," Mrs. Rose said. "Mrs. De La Salle made this one for the middle school and a smaller one for the grade school teachers. She's really quite a whiz on the sewing machine. It's excellent for practicing the right level of swing to use on real boys. The stuffing is just about right to duplicate the resiliency of the average boy's gluteal muscles." She placed the pillow on Lindsay's lap in the position Alan's butt would occupy in a moment. She then handed the wicked looking paddle to Lindsay. "Go ahead and give the PB a swing, and we'll see how you do." Lindsay brought her hand back and swung the paddle, the rubber knobbed cords striking the pillow firmly. Alan jumped at the noise it made when it landed, squeezing his buns together as if he was imagining the little rubber knobs already stinging his unprotected flesh. The watching class laughed at his reaction. Dust came out of the pillow and it made a soft, thwacking sound. "That was good, dear, but you can strike him harder than that. Under all that soft skin, adolescent boys have quite muscular little butts."

Lindsay raised her hand and brought the paddle down on the pillow again, dealing it a vicious blow that landed with a loud thwack and caused a cloud of dust to fly out of it. Alan jumped again and squeezed his butt together twice this time, sending the class into hysterics. "Not quite that hard, dear," Mrs. Rose chided, as Lindsay sneezed. "We don't want you to break the skin too early, only to cause major pain. It's not that blows that hard would damage Alan permanently, but we want you to be able to continue through the full 4 minutes, and if you strike his bare bottom that hard I'm afraid that we'd have to stop early."

Lindsay tried a third blow, which landed sharply on the pillow and raised dust from it, but not as much as previously. Alan flinched and tightened his butt again, sending the class into hysterics. Chad and the other boys were looking at the wicked paddle with awe, the girls with amusement, and Alan with stark horror. "That's about right as your starting level, dear," Mrs. Rose said approvingly. "That should sting unbearably, but he should be able to take quite a few of those before the blisters form. You can increase the strength of each blow during the final minute," she said calmly. Alan, meanwhile, had started whimpering, his lower lip trembling and tears starting to well up in his eyes. He stared at the paddle as if it was a group of 4 coiled snakes about to strike him (a pretty accurate assessment on his part).

"You'll want to strike him about once every 3 seconds, to allow time for the pain of each swat to soak in before the next one lands. Just count 'a thousand one, a thousand two, a thousand three' between each swing. That way, Alan will receive about 80 swats during the 4 minutes, which would be just about perfect considering the particular paddle being used and the size and maturity of his naughty bottom," Mrs. Rose said coldly, as if Alan were an interesting specimen they were examining rather than a young adolescent boy who was standing right there listening.

She walked to her desk, reached into her bottom drawer, and retrieved a set of tangled cords. She walked to the violently trembling Alan and knelt on the ground in front of him. Untangling the cords, she extracted two straps with long Velcro bands on each end. She flexed the straps to show that they were actually bungee cords. "These are leg straps for restraining boys who are to be paddled severely," she explained as she firmly wrapped a Velcro strap around each of Alan's bare ankles. "You've probably never seen them before, because they're used only on boys from the 7th grade on up, and then only in the more severe cases when it is necessary to subject a young boy like yourself to serious levels of pain."

This final pronouncement of "serious levels of pain," was too much for Alan. His long, thin penis twitched and then released the contents of his bladder onto the ground right next to the seated Lindsay. Mrs. Rose stepped back quickly, out of the range of fire. The class erupted into laughter. "I guess she scared the piss out of him," Joey commented to his friends over the hooting and giggling of the class.

"What did you say, Mr. Turpin?" Mrs. Rose said sternly.

"Uhhhhh, I said you scared the pee out of him," Joey said, trying to look innocent.

"I certainly hope that's what you said," she snapped. "You know that I have paddles that hurt even more than this one." She turned to the uncomfortably seated Chad, who was trying without much success to ignore the butt plug that he was sitting upon. Because he was facing Alan's butt, he had not had as clear a view of him peeing on the floor as everyone else, but he saw the spatter and he saw his classmates' reactions. He was feeling sorry for Alan. "Take the towel from my desk and wipe that up, Mr. Henson," Mrs. Rose ordered. Chad got up, wincing as his sore butt muscles were stretched, brining new tears to his eyes. He moved over to the desk, walking bowlegged because of the soreness of his bottom as well as because of the discomfort of the plug. He grabbed the towel, and waddled over to Mrs. Rose, looking at her quizzically. She pointed to the puddle on the floor. "Wipe that up, and be quick about it," he ordered. "We have a naughty bottom to paddle."

Chad bent down and began mopping the floor. Fortunately for him, he was facing the class, and thus did not treat them to the sight of his red bottom with the plug sticking out of his distended hole. Mrs. Rose addressed Alan. "Are you done wetting everything in sight, young man?" she asked severely. "Or is there even more of that inside you ready to erupt?"

Alan looked at the floor, his heart pounding. He'd peed on the floor in class! This hadn't been deliberate, as when he had peed his underwear to hide the evidence of his earlier orgasm. He'd lost control in fear, like a baby! He'd never wet his pants in fright before, but then he'd never been so scared in his whole life, not even when his mother stood over him with a belt in her hand. He vowed to himself he would never, never, never touch another boy's genitals or butt again without being absolutely sure the boy wanted him to. "I'm done," he managed to croak out. "I think," he added. Chad put the towel to one side and went and sat on his chair again, wincing as he obediently raised his feet to the second rung.

"Good," said Mrs. Rose. "I'm extending your diaper time to 6 days." She wrapped the straps of the leg restraints that she'd already attached to Alan around each of the legs of the chair. There now was about a foot of slack cord joining each of Alan's ankles to the chair in which Lindsay was seated. It was clear to everyone that when in spanking position he might be able to straighten his legs or kick out, but only by fighting the pull of the elastic cords.

She took the paddle back from Lindsay. "Take him over your lap, Lindsay," she instructed. "Given the severity of this case, I suggest you restrain him only by his scrotum."

Alan's eyes widened as he heard this, and widened further as Lindsay grasped his delicate testes firmly in her fist and pulled him across her lap, settling his genitals in between her legs as she had done to Jimmy. She squeezed just enough to raise discomfort, making Alan acutely aware that she could increase the strength of her grip at any moment, but not being unnecessarily cruel. Once he was in the horizontal, little boy spanking position, Mrs. Rose swiftly took one of Alan's dangling arms by the wrist and attached an arm restraint to it, attaching the other end to the chair leg on that side. She then repeated the process with Alan's other arm. The arm restraints were much shorter than the leg restrains, allowing his arms only about 6 inches of movement before the cords began stretching.

"Try to kick your legs and arms, Alan," Mrs. Rose instructed. Alan experimented with movement of all 4 limbs. He found he could move a bit, but once he started stretching the cords his movements were brought to a gentle stop, so he could not raise his legs higher than straight out from his body, and his arms couldn't even go that high. His arms and legs also tired quickly fighting against the elastic pull of the cords. Movement of his torso was blocked by Lindsay's grip on his vulnerable balls.

"Excellent. You now appear sufficiently restrained. All that remains is to muffle your voice so that you do not disturb the whole school when you paddling starts," she said. "Normally in a case like this, we would use the boy's own underpants as a gag to muffle his cries, but in your case I assume you would prefer we use something else, am I correct, Mr. Delvecchio?"

Alan looked up over his shoulder and nodded vigorously. He was all too aware that his white briefs were soaked with his own pee from his successful attempt to hide the evidence of his earlier orgasm. He certainly didn't want them in his mouth in that condition. Mrs. Rose walked over by her desk and came up with a ball of white cloth, bringing the ball to the front of the class.

She spoke to Alan. "Once I insert this gag, it will greatly muffle your voice and make it impossible to talk. Do you have anything to say, Mr. Delvecchio, before I insert your gag?"

Alan swallowed, blinking back tears and trembling. "I – I- I- I'm sorrrrrrrrry!" he croaked. He looked at her wild- eyed.

"I'm sure you are," Mrs. Rose said.

"He'll be even sorrier in a few minutes," Emily muttered to her friends, creating a round of laughter. Alan, who was only 3 feet from Emily and could hear every comment she made, winced and tensed his butt briefly.

"All right, then. Open your mouth and let me get as much of this in there as I can," Mrs. Rose instructed. Alan did as he was told, and she stuffed most of the ball into his open mouth, affixed a Velcro strap across the protruding section and around the back of his head. Alan worked his jar muscles, finding his mouth completely filled with cloth. He swallowed convulsively, but his mouth remained completely dry, as the cotton cloth soaked up whatever saliva he produced.

"Try yelling," Mrs. Rose suggested. Alan tensed and attempted to shout, but only a muffled "Uuuuuuuuuhh," penetrated the gag.

"You're read for punishment," she stated. She turned to the class. "Alan Delvecchio, you have violated school rules by urinating in an inappropriate place and by encouraging Chad to do so, resulting in him receiving a spanking as well. You have also engaged in a much more serious behavior which will not be named, but which is primarily responsible for the severity of the punishment you are about to receive. You will now be paddled with The Stinger for 4 minutes." She paused and looked at the class. All the children's eyes were on Alan's bare bottom, most glistening with excitement. The girls, especially, were dying to see the effects of the unusual new device for punishing boys' butts. "Lindsay, this young boy needs a good paddling. When I signal, you may begin to paddle him."

Alan looked fearfully over his shoulder at Lindsay's upraised arm. All the other children leaned forward, their eyes glued on the raised paddle. Chad also leaned forward. He actually had the best view in the house of Alan's butt. He was seated to the left of the classroom so he was about 10 feet straight behind Alan's restrained legs, the boy's bent and spread butt straight on to him. He found himself studying Alan's dark brown butt hole, noting with surprise that it was twitching with nervousness, squeezing tightly and then relaxing and then squeezing again, in almost constant motion. Chad was also surprised by how much Alan's scrotum bulged out between his legs, and by the little rope of a penis swaying slightly in the center. He wouldn't want to be in Alan's place, right now, but he'd love to have genitals like that, Chad thought.

Mrs. Rose suddenly said, "Begin," and the paddle snapped down, creating an odd thwapping sound on Alan's bare skin. Alan stiffened. It was like 4 bees had suddenly stung the center of his right butt cheek right next to each other simultaneously. He tried to squeal in pain, but only managed to produce a muted moan through the gag. A few seconds later, 4 more bees stung his left bun, leading to another attempt at squealing that also only produced a moan.

Tears flowed out of Alan's eyes and rolled copiously down his cheeks. He repeatedly flexed his butt trying to drive away the pain, but stinging pain didn't abate at all. Meanwhile, a third set of 4 bees stung him, one deep in his butt crack. He convulsed several times, causing additional pain as Lindsay guided his thrashing pelvis to a stop with her grip on his scrotum. Four more bees stung the helpless boy, this time near the top of his butt, and he convulsed again, shrieking loudly enough that some of the shriek carried beyond his gag. Mrs. Rose had said that The Stinger would be very painful, but that turned out to be a gross understatement. It wasn't like the spankings, paddlings, or belt whippings his mother had given him that set Alan's butt on fire. No, it was more like a bunch of little needle pricks, burning in intense little points all over his vulnerable butt. In fact, it wasn't so much the pain of a needle prick – it was more of a hot needle-under-the skin kind of pain. It was like an entire swarm of bees had embedded their stingers in Alan's butt and were now wiggling them back and forth under his skin. At the same time, more bees kept joining the party.

From Chad's angle, the view was clear, fascinating, and alarming. By the fifth blow, Alan was developing little red, raised spots from the earlier blows where the little knob on each string had dug into his tender bottom skin. Each welt was small in diameter, but stood out, raised slightly above the skin around it. As Lindsay landed her 6th, 7th, and 8th blows on the boy's vulnerable bottom, Chad noticed that the paddle would land, Alan would jerk and moan, and then a blow or two later the 4 new red spots would rise out of Alan's tender bottom as if by magic.

Chad was impressed by Alan's kicking legs as well – despite being restrained, Alan thrashed his legs with each blow, squeezing his butt as the paddle struck, holding his butt squeezed tightly for a moment, and then giving a couple of quick twitches before relaxing just before the next blow hit. The boy inhaled audibly through his nose with each blow, then moaned into the gag, his moans becoming louder as the seconds passed. Chad noted that the boy's butt hole was convulsing continuously now, sucking in on itself and then relaxing to normal size with each spank.

Alan, meanwhile, had lost track of anything but the myriad of bees that were stinging his completely unprotected butt. His vision was blurry and indistinct from crying. All he could hear was that horrible thwapping sound that signaled renewed, unbearable stinging, and the ever present sounds of his own moaning. He was acutely aware of the straps binding his arms and legs – he kept jerking them to their limits, only to find his movement halted by the elastic and his hands and legs gently pulled back. Lindsay's left hand was in his consciousness, too, as a constant unpleasant dull ache in his balls. That ache would become more intense each time he involuntarily shifted his butt too far and she would use her grip to center his bottom again. But mostly, Alan's universe was narrowed to his now red-speckled light brown butt, and the horrible, stinging pain coming from the almost 7 dozen individual little welts on it.

"One minute," Mrs. Rose said loudly. "Three to go."

One minute? thought Alan in wonder. How could it have been only one minute? It had to have been an hour! He must have received at least 20 whacks from that awful thing by now, and each one left 4 vivid stings on his bottom. He could swear he could feel all 80 pinpoints individually, each one feeling like an individual needle burrowing in his flesh. His throat was hoarse from squealing, even though the gag muffled his efforts. More fires lit on his butt as Lindsay methodically moved the paddle around, making sure rubber knob tips hit him everywhere. He had to get away! He couldn't stand this! He flailed his arms and legs and twisted his torso as much as he could. The only result was that his arms and legs quickly tired fighting the elastic cords, and he briefly became more painfully aware of his balls than his burning butt as Lindsay gave him a hard squeeze and pulled his midsection firmly back down.

Chad was shocked by the appearance of Alan's butt as they passed the two minute mark. The little red welts were everywhere, marring the smooth light brown skin of the boy's formerly almost unblemished bottom. Alan was clearly in intense agony, moaning loudly through the gag and thrashing about continuously. His butt hole was still in motion, seeming never to tire. Chad was fascinated by it. Here up to a couple of days ago, he hadn't really looked at anyone else's butt hole, and now he'd seen several, up close and personal (too close, in the case of his brother's and the orifice of his brother's friend Jesse). He'd never seen another boy spanked bare butt before, either, and now he'd seen 3 spankings. Also, he'd gotten spanked himself 3 times, he thought ruefully. He wished he could have skipped that particular part of it.

Lindsay continued methodically beating Alan's butt, looking for places to create new welts that had been underserved up to that point. As she was approaching the 3-minute mark, she noticed that Alan had sagged over her lap, sobbing uncontrollably but too tired and broken to thrash about any more. In this new position, his butt had opened much more widely, presenting his largely unwhipped butt crack as an inviting target. Might as well cover everything, she thought, as she angled her hand so that the loops entered the previously untouched crack.

The result was instantaneous and electric. The loops landed in the general location of the boy's vulnerable butt hole. As they landed, Alan suddenly came to life, thrashing violently and shaking from side to side, so that only her vice-like grip on his scrotum kept him from turning completely sideways. An unearthly sound came from his gagged mouth, a sort of high-pitched squeal that wavered and then tapered into a deep moan. Simultaneously, Lindsay felt warm wetness on the back of her gripping hand, where the boy's soft penis was trapped between her grip on his scrotum and his stomach. She paused a moment in her blows. "Mrs. Rose," she said loudly, to be heard over Alan's loud moaning. "He just wet on me."

"That's why you have a towel, dear," Mrs. Rose replied, just as loudly. "Alan obviously has a problem with bladder control when he gets overexcited, and blows that strike the anal area are generally very painful for young boys and probably over-stimulate him. The last boy I spanked with The Stinger did the same thing to me. Please continue with Alan's paddling. I'm going to have to add 15 seconds to his time to make up for this break."

Irritated by the boy's nerve in peeing on her, Lindsay landed a second, third, and fourth blow on the boy's vulnerable crack, each landing right around his anus. Each one resulted in similar thrashing and loud moaning and little squirts of renewed wetness on her hand. It's like the old saying, she thought, grinning to herself. I'm spanking the piss out of him.

Chad was shocked by the number of little red welts that appeared as Lindsay peppered Alan's crack with blows. He leaned closer, trying to see the boy's thrashing, contracting bottom more clearly. At least 4 of the last few welts were right on the wrinkles of his butt hole! Man, that had to hurt! He was glad he'd just gotten hit with a normal paddle when he'd been paddled.

Just when Alan thought he'd explode from the level of pain emanating from his butt, his butt hole, and his tightly squeezed balls, he faintly heard Mrs. Rose say, "four minutes – 15 seconds to go." But his relief at the nearness of the end was short-lived. Lindsay shifted her target, aiming for the smooth, untouched brown skin between the boy's legs, just above his currently tightly gripped scrotum. The next blow landed right on target, resulting in Alan straining every muscle in his body to arch his back, fling back his head, and moan piteously and loudly, even through the gag. As the boy's butt was tightly squeezed together, Lindsay has to content herself with striking only the surface of his buns with the next 3 blows, but made up for it by increasing the strength of those blows, so that each made 4 much brighter welts. Mrs. Rose nodded approval. "That's the way, Lindsay. Make your last spanks count!" she commanded.

Alan, unable to drive off the intense burning needles in his butt by squeezing his buns together and finding that the new blows on his tensed butt hurt even more, relaxed his butt just as Lindsay was preparing her last swing. She angled the paddle so that all 4 cords were funneled into the boy's now separated crack, so that all 4 cords landed on Alan's twitching butt hole. Alan tensed every muscle in his body, arched his back, shot his legs straight out, and became a trapped, whining, thrashing beast, expending all his reserve energy in a flurry of motion. Lindsay pulled hard on the boy's scrotum, pinning his wildly thrashing pelvis to her lap and grinding his small balls together in the process. She then released her grip, and used her left hand to steady the boy as he continued convulsing. She dropped the paddle on the floor and began massaging the quivering butt cheeks while Alan shrieked and wailed as loud as he could through the gag. A small puddle of snot and tears had spread on the floor under his head.

As the pain of his balls being ground together receded to a dull ache, he noticed the thwapping noises had stopped, and no new bees were joining the million or so that had already stung him. Those stings, though, were still loudly announcing their presence with unbearable, shooting pains that were being heightened by Lindsay's kneading hand. For the first time he became aware of the warm dampness of the towel on his genitals and his stomach. Oh my gosh, he thought. I peed on her while she was paddling me! I don't remember doing that!

Actually, thinking about it, he didn't remember much of anything about his paddling except the long, continuous explosions of white hot, needle sharp pain in his butt and the sharp ache that periodically burst from his squeezed scrotum.

He realized he didn't care that he'd peed on himself. He was in too much pain to be embarrassed. He really couldn't think of anything for any length of time but his stinging, aching, blazing butt. Those pains were still with him, but could think fleeting thoughts about something besides the white-hot pain now.

He realized he'd probably cemented the nickname "Whizzer," for good. He'd whizzed in the shower, he'd whizzed in his underpants before lunch, he'd whizzed on the floor in fright before being spanked, and he'd whizzed on the DA during his spanking. And he was going to spend 6 days in diapers, during which he'd probably whiz at least twice a day and have to be changed. He'd be stuck with that name for good!

It took 10 minutes for Alan to recover enough to stand on his own feet, and then he could do so only while leaning on Mrs. Rose while tears continued to stream down his face. His sore butt was thrust out behind him at an angle, still covered with little red welts, some of which had become blisters. In releasing him, Mrs. Rose had first removed his leg restraints, and then the arm restraints, while the boy sagged over Lindsay's lap, too sore to move. The gag was left in, and it was fortunate that it was, because Alan shrieked in agony as he was forced to flex those blistered bottom muscles to gain his feet. He stood there facing the class as Lindsay arose, wiping her damp hand on the towel. The dampness on Alan's genitals was ignored. The tip of the boy's penis glistened in the classroom lights, his loss of control and the shame of it visible to all.

Mrs. Rose supported him for a few more minutes, then forced him to stand on his own and turn his back to the class so his butt could be examined by all. There were gasps and expressions of amazement as the rest of the class saw what Chad had seen so clearly from his view point – the myriad of little red blisters covering the boy's entire bottom. Randy Martinez, always fascinated by numbers, did some calculation. Alan had, by his count, received 83 whacks with The Stinger. Each whack made 4 separate welts. That came to 332 welts, if he was calculating correctly. He could swear he could see each one of them on Alan's bottom. When Mrs. Rose made Alan bend over, it was clear that the welts continued into his butt crack, at least 7 on the boy's butt hole itself, and another 4 making nasty red welts on the normally smooth skin between the boy's butt hole and scrotum. Randy shuddered. He vowed that he was going to be very, very good. He certainly didn't ever want to be introduced to The Stinger up close and personal, the way Alan just had been!