Tommy's Attitude Adjustment Chapter 82
by Chadlad

copyright 2008 by Chadlad, all rights reserved
[email protected]

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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 82: The Best Defense...

Tommy hastily shifted his thoughts to the grossest things he could think of – he tried dead, maggoty puppies, then vomit, and finally worms in his food. The latter did the trick, and he felt the pressure in him subside, but his dick remained hard. The ritual of unloading the old books and loading the new ones was observed, then he and Wayne off down the hall again, back to their classroom.

What had he been thinking? Why was he having such thoughts about Wayne? Okay, he'd come to grips with maybe being a little bit fond of his old friend Jesse, maybe even more than a little bit, but Wayne? He and Jesse had slept together since they were little kids. They'd bathed together and peed into the same toilet simultaneously. And he'd been spanked by Jesse, too, and had sucked him, and buttfucked him. He'd done a lot of exciting, forbidden things with Jessed. But he didn't even know Wayne, not really. They'd never operated in the same circles.

Maybe it was the stupid rubber purse squeezing his balls and the base of his cock – maybe that was it. Maybe it just made him all tingly down there, so he thought Wayne was getting him excited. Maybe it wasn't Wayne's body at all.

He took their maneuvering through the door to the courtyard as the opportunity to look down between their linked arms and actually stare hard at Wayne's rock hard, slightly curving dick. It was a darker pink than the rest of his body, like one would expect of an organ that was engorged with blood. The foreskin covering the back of the head made it look more arrow-like than his own dick, and the head itself was pointier. In conjunction with its thinner profile, Wayne's dick was a sharp needle in contrast with his own dick's wider appearance and more prominent helmeted head. It looked like it would be soft to touch, soft and velvety, the way Elvin's had been soft and velvety, the way Jesse's was soft velvet over hard steel, and pulsed in your mouth...

Stop it! he screamed silently to himself, tearing his eyes away. Stop it! Stop it! He bumped into Wayne as he misjudged Wayne's move through the door, and the boys' extended penises brushed sides briefly. "Hey, watch it, asswipe!" he complained to Wayne crossly.

"En Garde!" Wayne said with a grin, quickly separating their bodies so they weren't touching again. "Zorro will leave his mark!"

Tommy's head spun. Could Wayne read minds? Had he somehow, magically, picked up some sort of brainwaves from Tommy when he'd been caught in his shameful fantasy moments ago? He looked at Wayne cautiously, for any sign that Wayne knew his secret, but Wayne was looking up as they picked their way across the courtyard. "There's two girls watching us from a classroom window," he announced. "They're giggling and pointing." He looked back at Tommy. "I hate being hard," he said amiably. "Don't you? You bob around so much. And everyone sees it, hard, I mean. It's like we don't have any secrets at all any more – they all know what our most private things look like. Well, except our butt holes—they haven't seen them yet. I might as well just go around with my boy thing hanging out my fly from now on."

A mental vision of Wayne walking casually through the halls with his soft dick swaying outside his pants came unbidden to Tommy's mind. In seconds, that soft, dangling finger of boyflesh became a hard, throbbing thing pointing proudly toward Tommy. Tommy brushed the images aside and savagely yanked the other building door open before Wayne could get a grip on it. The books between them lurched violent, tugging painfully on their linked scrota.

"Hey, watch it!" Wayne complained. "I'm delicate down there!"

"And I'm not?" Tommy retorted. "Mine are bigger, so they hurt more!"

Wayne, not having anything to say to that, because Tommy was embarrassingly bigger in all his boy parts, said nothing.

Then they made another embarrassing trip through the classroom, being groped, pinched, and even playfully butt-slapped by their fellow students (Mrs. Johnson was standing at the door and directed them down a different aisle this time as they entered, so other kids could have their chances to see the two boys nudity up close. Then came the loading of the old books, which meant another humiliating up close exhibition of their erect penises to two more classmates, this time Dakota and a boy named Brett. Brett shoved the books roughly into the sling, dumping them the last inch and enjoying their discomfort. "That's for Lee, too, fartface," he said to Tommy, grinning at Tommy's discomfort and then reaching out and batting the other boy's erect penis so hard it slapped against Tommy's stomach. Tommy looked at Mrs. Johnson in outrage and was about to complain about this new intrusion on his privates, but Mrs. Johnson merely waved him on to Dakota's desk and began giving a child in front of the class some instructions.

Tommy have expected Dakota to drop her book in as well, maybe from desk height, but she settled the book very gently and carefully into the sling on top the other one. "I knew your stupid sister shouldn't have made her stupid challenge," she whispered to Tommy. "Look what happened! You're a dickweed, but this stuff should be kept in the family. We need to do something tonight before she goes clear off the deep end." Tommy nodded, and Wayne looked puzzled and then shrugged it off.

"Did you have something to share, young lady?" Mrs. Johnson asked archly.

"No, ma'am," Dakota said, sounding sincere. "I was just encouraging my cousin not to get into any more trouble."

"Good advice," Mrs. Johnson said. "But I doubt he'll take it to heart if his older brother is any example."

Once again, back in the hall, Wayne began chatting amiably, like he was Tommy's best buddy.

"So how about it," he asked cheerfully. "What we were talking about earlier. Say you had to choose one – would you want a guy's thing in your mouth, or up your butt?"

"I'd want his dick in your mouth so you'd shut up," Tommy said irritably.

"Not one of the choices," Wayne said. "Come on, play along. Which would it be, mouth or butt? I say the butt – it'd hurt like the devil, but at least you wouldn't have to taste it."

Tommy didn't answer, but he knew the answer without even thinking about it. Taking a guy's dick into your mouth was nothing. They tasted like salt if the kid was sweaty, and nothing at all if he wasn't. They didn't feel bad and your mouth, just surprisingly solid and rubbery. At worst, it was like sucking a thumb without a thumbnail. Chad's was like that, and Gabriel's. Just a hard rubber thing. Chad didn't even squirt that much – you hardly noticed it. And Gabriel didn't squirt at all. So it wasn't the stomach-churning experience Wayne was depicting.

And there were times that it was, well, he had to admit it—more than okay. He'd first noticed that when he'd been forced to suck Elvin. He'd been humiliated by the trio of female observers and their photographs and drawings of him performing, looking ridiculous, but looking at Elvin's dick cross-eyed in front of him and knowing he was going to take that intimate part of another boy into his mouth, that had given him tingles from his stomach down to the bottom of his groin. And as the other boy's excitement had built, so had his own, until he'd become throbbingly hard himself when Elvin's small tool had spasmed in his mouth while Elvin had yipped his pleasure. He'd felt good, somehow, giving Elvin such pleasure. And then when he'd sucked Jesse yesterday afternoon, when he'd looked up with a mouth full of penis to see Jesse's little mop head looking so serious as he squeezed his plump butt during his dry cum, he'd been overwhelmed with warmth, and Jesse's penis in his mouth hadn't been disagreeable at all.

He wondered, for a moment, what it had been like for Chad sucking him for the first time. Chad was probably a lot more disgusted than he'd been. But then, maybe not. Because hadn't Chad actually licked his butt the last time he'd tried to force Chad to suck him? Actually licked him right across his ass hole? What was sucking a dick compared to that?

He wondered, now, how Chad really felt about sucking other boys' cocks. Tommy himself had sucked three different boys to date – his own brother, his cousin Gabriel, Elvin, and Jesse. He'd felt nothing sucking Chad and Gabriel – in both cases it had just been a chore he had to get over with. Elvin, though, had excited him, and Jesse had made him rock hard and randy. How had Chad felt sucking him, and Jesse, and those two little red-headed twins? And Chad's new friend Alan, the one he'd started calling "Gay Alan" to Chad's face because he knew it bugged Chad. Chad had been forced to suck Alan to orgasm multiple times in front of both families as Alan returned the favor – had he hated every minute of it, been neutral about it, or secretly loved it? How about being forced to suck the dicks of the entire 4th grade? Chad hadn't been hard when he'd sucked all those little cocks, Tommy knew because he'd asked several 4th graders, hoping for more ammunition to throw at his brother. But Chad hadn't been hard, and no one suggested Chad had been enjoying it. He tried to picture himself in Chad's position, naked, kneeling on the floor as boy after boy approached to be serviced, and the girls looked on munching popcorn with glee. He felt a tingling in his groin as he tried to picture it, having to take little cock after little cock into his mouth.

What was the matter with him? He felt like he was building up to orgasm again! It had to be the purse – he hadn't been turned on by little boys getting sucked before! Like when he'd made Chad suck the red-headed twins – made him climb on the bed with his bare, well-spanked butt in the air and kneel between their legs and suck their little poles one after the other, his balls tight between his spread legs and his butt hole wide open to Tommy and Jesse as they watched. Chad hadn't gotten hard then, either, he realized as he remembered watching Chad suck the boys from between his spread legs. But Tommy had, while watching, and thinking about it was making him tingle...

He wrenched his mind away. Now being butt fucked, that was something else. Taking another kid's dick up our ass was different—Gabriel's was tiny, really, but it had made Tommy's rectum burn. And it felt like it was stretching his butt hole beyond endurance, even though he knew he'd shoved out turds bigger than that. But those he controlled himself, and they went out and stayed out – they' didn't press insistently back in. Elvin's dick had been bigger, but he'd been gentler, as if he didn't really want to hurt Tommy. And Tommy guessed that Elvin didn't – he seemed to want to please Tommy, just as he pathetically wanted to please his bastard cousins. Still, Tommy's rectum had burned for hours after that. Of course, maybe that's because he'd had a plaster cast of his own dick up it for so long before that. But still, how Jesse had endured Tommy's real life dick he still didn't himself understand—and apparently it had hurt, 'cause Jesse had bitten his hand hard enough to leave tooth marks. Yet Jesse was planning on having him do it again, he'd said so. And truth be told, he was ready to do it to Jesse again too. But he was a little bit anxious, he had to admit, about the possibility of Jesse reciprocating on him – oh, he'd told Jesse he was ready and willing when he'd thought he was going to lose his best friend, but now that the danger was past, there was a bit of fear in his stomach at the thought of being invaded. Kind of like thinking about going to the dentist and having a cavity filled. And if the kid had a big dick, say, like that kid the color of paste who was Chad's new friend...

"I don't know, it's a stupid question," Tommy's snapped. "No one's going to do that, anyway. Make you decide, I mean."

"You know someone like that?" Tommy said. Wayne looked around, satisfied they were alone.

"There's this kid," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. "And this other kid has something on him – say she—I mean he, has pictures of something the kid did. And this other kid says he'll give the kid the pictures if he either sucks him or takes him up his butt. And he knows that to do it is the only way to get the pictures. Which should he do?"

Tommy took a moment to sort out all the kids in this story and to study Wayne to see if he was being put on. "How big is the kid's dick?" he finally asked.

"Don't know," Wayne said. "Let's say he's about our size, so his thing probably is, too."

"Not necessarily," Tommy said. "Look at my brother – he's only 2 inches all the way hard."

"Lots bigger," Tommy said smugly. "Does this cousin of Aiesha's shoot stuff when he finishes?"

"I don't know," Wayne said. "I've never seen his dick that close—" he caught himself. "I mean this kid in my story – he's never seen the guy's thing except when they were taking a pee, and then it was kinda hard to see. And soft. I don't know about shooting stuff. Do guys our age normally shoot stuff?"

Tommy almost said, "I do," but squelched himself in time. Wayne already knew too much about him for comfort. Next Tommy would be blurting what he and Jesse had done. "Mouth," he said decisively. "Definitely mouth. Even if he shoots stuff. Unless you're really, really careful and go slow and use lotion or something it really hurts in the butt."

Wayne raised his eyebrows, opening his mouth to ask a question. Tommy forestalled him. "Or so I hear," he added lamely. "That's what someone told me."

"Oh," Wayne said. He paused a moment. "You know someone who had to take it in the butt?" He asked.

"Oh," Wayne said. "Yeah, I forgot." He pushed open the door and they trooped outside and crossed the courtyard in silence.

"So who does Aiesha want you to suck to get your pictures back," Tommy said as they stopped at the other door.

"I don't know him very well, he's just her cous—I mean, no, it's not me, it's this other kid! Not me at all!" Wayne said, flustered. He shifted his eyes from Tommy's face and concentrated on opening the door. They started down the hall. Tommy was thoroughly sick of the constant swaying of the book sling and the almost unbearable continuous ache of his poor, trapped balls. Wayne was flushed beet red, and he was carefully not looking at Tommy at all now. Turning into the office, they discovered Sally had replaced Mrs. Hendricks as their loadmaster.

"Mrs. H. left me in charge of you two," she said, stooping and staring at their erect phalluses before unloading the two worn texts. "She said she has more important stuff to do." She eased the two new books in with more care than anyone except Dakota had taken that day, then looked at their penises bobbing in space with glittering eyes. "I like your dicks," she said to the boys. "Although yours would look better if you hadn't painted it orange, Tommy."

"We gotta go," Tommy said.

"Not until I say – I'm in charge," Sally retorted. "I'm looking."

She continued staring at their erect members. Reaching out a delicate hand, she stroked a finger along the underside of first Wayne's, then Tommy's member. Both penises jumped identically, and Tommy was forced into an involuntary butt squeeze. "Do they ever get hard like that in your pants?" she asked innocently.

"Sometimes," Wayne said rather breathily. "You can touch it again if you want."

"No she can't," Mrs. Hendricks said, stepping into the office. "Unless you'd like her to give it a good hard yank!"

"Um, no ma'am!" Wayne said hastily.

"Then get on with it," Mrs. Hendricks said, making shooing motions. "You boys have work to do."

The boys hurried out the door as fast as they could with the handicap of books tugging at their vulnerable orbs. As they started down the hall, Mrs. Hendricks was saying, "You must be firm with boys undergoing punishment, not gentle, my dear. It's perfectly all right to give their members a sharp tug as a chastisement, but that's it. They have hair triggers, you see, and you wouldn't want them making a mess, not that Mr. Sakarov is capable of such things, but Mr.Henson may well be. And you must always convey to boys how utterly ridiculous and immature their genitalia appears..." Her voice faded as they moved out of range.

"She's the party pooper," Wayne said in his best Schwartzenegger accent.

"Look, I know it's you we were talking about," Tommy said. "You might as well admit it."

"No, really – it's not me!" Wayne said a bit desperately.

"Okay, so let's say the girl involved is named Vaeisha. And let's say the boy is named Vayne. And let's say that what she has on him is some pictures she took with her cell phone of him jerking off when he thought he was alone in his bed in the house where he lives with his Grandmother. And let's say the Grandmother hates sex stuff and would kill him or cut his balls off or somethign if she saw them."

Wayne's eyes got big. "She wouldn't do that, would she? Cut my things off? Would she?"

"Probably not," Tommy said. "But she could whip them. Now let me go on with my story. Let's say this Vaiesha tells him she'll give him back the pictures if he'll let her cousin his age do him in the mouth or up the ass. And let's say that she makes this boy, Vayne, trick a boy in his class into stripping in the girls' bathroom and then runs that guy's clothes up the flagpole. And let's not forget that the classmate is really ticked but might take pity on him and try to help him, but if the kid lies to him he might feel like knocking the kid to the floor right here in the hall and smashing his balls into a bloody pulp before the vice principal can stop him. Let's just pretend all that is true. Now what?"

Wayne stopped at the door. "Why would you want to help me – I mean, why would this guy want to him the other guy? If he's ticked, I mean?"

Tommy was wondering that himself. But there was something about Wayne that was getting to him. Something about his voice, and this intimate contact with his body. When their dicks had brushed on their previous trip, he'd felt a shiver down his spine that terminated in his groin, and warmth had spread up to the tip of his dick. He almost wanted to "accidentally" brush cocks with Wayne again. And his anger at Wayne seemed to have gone somewhere over the last couple of trips. Tommy suddenly realized he'd already forgiven Wayne for his part in this – it was really Aiesha he now hated with all his passion. Could Wayne's story somehow be a path to getting even with her? He felt a strong connection with Wayne suddenly, like they shared something. Maybe if he helped Wayne work this out, it would lead – well, lead somewhere.

They were crossing the courtyard now.

"If I tell you something," Wayne said. "If I tell you something secret about me, something bad, would you promise not to hurt me when they let us go?

"Look, idiot! I already know we're talking about you! So you might as well spill it," Tommy snapped.

"No, you have to promise, first. Promise when they take these things off of us that you won't try to get me," Wayne said earnestly.

"Fine," Tommy's said. He'd already decided he wasn't mad at Wayne anymore. "I promise I won't hurt you when this is over. I don't care anymore, anyway." They stopped at the other door and both panted just a bit from the exertion of having to move so carefully. "My nuts hurt," he said.

"Cunt," Tommy said. "Girls have cunts! I don't suppose you can say 'cunt,' either, if you can't say 'dick.'" Wayne shook his head. "Never mind. I know how you feel. I hate them, too! I hate all cunts! Boys rule!" And, almost to his surprise, he realized he truly believed this, with all his heart and soul. He liked boys. He liked playing with them, he liked hanging out with them, and he liked the feel of their bodies. He liked firm butts and flat chests and the feel of scrotal skin, and velvety skinned, throbbing hard dicks. He liked boys. He understood boys. They wanted what he wanted. You knew where you stood with boys.

Wayne pulled open the other door. "Okay, it's me," he said. "In the story. Aiesha has this cousin who she says is horny all the time, and that if I take him in my mouth or up my butt she'll erase the pictures she took of me."

Tommy's mind was actually working for the first time in hours. "I wonder why," he said.

"To get his rocks off, I'd guess," Wayne said. "I suppose it feels good." He remembered the boy sucking him in the bathroom years back, when he'd almost cum for the first time. He wished, now, the boy had been given a chance to finish – another thing to blame on the grandmother!

"No, not that," Tommy said. "I wonder why she agreed to do it for him to start with. What's she getting out of it?"

Wayne considered as they moved carefully toward the classroom door. "I don't know," he finally said.

"He'd got something on her, or she wants something from him," Tommy said.

"I don't see how that helps," Wayne replied. "It's what she's got on me that matters. And the only way to get her to erase what she's got is to go along."

"I thought you said you had to get a boy naked and let her touch him to get the pictures. Now you're saying she wants you to do this other thing."

"No she hasn't," Tommy said. "You can bet on it. She's got a good thing going. She won't erase them. She'll just keep them, and use them to make you take this guy in the mouth or up your butt. And after that, then she'll use them to blackmail you into something else, and then something after that."

Wayne looked stricken, like he hadn't thought of this before. "Then what do I do?" he almost wailed. "She'll have a hold on me forever."

"What you do," Tommy said, "is what they do in football." Light was dawning on him at last. That was the solution – not just to Wayne's problem, but his!

"Punt?" Wayne said. "Call an audible? Try the Hail Mary?"

"No," Tommy said. Not having a father or other male role model, he wasn't all that sure what an audible was, anyway. "They other thing they say in football. About playing defense."

Wayne looked baffled. "You know," Tommy said. "Haven't you ever heard that the best defense is a good offense?" he asked, and this time his grin was genuine.

Quentin sniffled loudly in the center of the classroom, standing on a small pedestal in the center aisle, his blazing red butt on display to half the class, his naked front and all his boy parts on display to the other half. He was completely naked now, Mrs. Sanford having taken his final piece of clothing, his shirt, before making him mount the pedestal. Periodically, Mrs. Sanford would command him, "Turn, now, Quentin," and he had to make a quarter turn on the pedestal, so that his classmates could have a different view of his completely naked body. His 24th school spanking was over, and it had been the worst of all of them for two reasons. The first had been that he wasn't just spanked bare this time, he was also paddled bare, and the paddle had hurt more than he'd thought it would on his already warmed up butt. The second thing that had made this a bad experience was that he'd been hard when Mrs. Sanford had finished spanking him, and the fallout from that was still ongoing. Hence, the position of shame in the center of the class, and the even more shameful adjuncts that went with it.

He hadn't meant to be hard, of course. Certainly not after Mrs. Sanford had threatened dire punishment if he didn't lose his stiffy by the end of his spanking. But then, he never meant to be hard, it just happened, usually when he was thinking about looking at naked girls. Quentin thought about looking at naked girls a lot. He also looked at naked girls whenever the opportunity presented itself (rarely, although he did love playing doctor even now), and he looked at pictures of naked girls much, much more often. Over time he'd discovered how to access certain places on the Internet that had all sorts of binaries available for free, and some were fascinating indeed.There were groups that had pictures from old nudist magazines on them, mostly women with old fashioned hairstyles, big busts, and thick nests of pubic hair that hid their genitals completely. Quentin didn't mind that too much, because he really, really liked boobs, and these women had a wide variety of shapes and sizes of his favorite thing. There were pictures with men in them now and then, too, and he'd found them interesting but not exciting, mainly for how many different types of penises there were, and how many different sizes, and how big and hairy the men's genitals were compared to his own diminutive, hairless cock and balls.

There were pictures of girls too young to have boobs yet – girls as flat chested as boys with nipples that looked like his own, but there were also girls with nipples bulging like little cones, and girls with quite attractive little breasts that clung firmly to their chests, taut and hard, and those he eyed with fascination. He found these pictures intriguing, too, because these girls didn't have hair all over their groins, covering everything – you could see the neat grooves of their pussies without any impediment, and Quentin had spend considerable time studying those pictures. He'd been surprised to discover girls didn't all look the same down there – some just had a neat little split between their legs, but some had a bulge like a little penis that stuck out at the top of the slit, and some had pink folds that projected from there. Some had puffy labia, some were much flatter. And a few had their legs spread enough that you could actually see the pink stuff inside, and now and then a glimpse of the hole they were supposed to have in there for boys to stick their dicks in. (He knew this was what the hole was for, because he'd seen plenty of other pictures of guys sticking their big hairy dicks right into those holes in grown up women, mostly in other binary groups.)

There were boys now and then in the pictures, too, although more rarely than the girls. Boys his age, boys older than him, and boys younger. Most had dicks that dangled, but some were so short they barely stuck out when they were soft (like Chad Henson's did when he wasn't hard – everyone in school knew that about Chad.) The little boys and boys his age were as hairless as the little girls, and had high, tight ball sacks, and the bigger boys had various amounts of hair and bigger balls that bulged under their dicks or hung down pendulously. Some of the boys looked like their dicks were half hard when their pictures were taken, too, and once in a while a boy with a full stiffy was seen, but not often. Another kid had told him that boys with stiffies were child porn, but boys who were soft were art. That didn't make any sense to Quentin – it was the same body part hard or soft, but that's what the kid had said. The kid had also said that pictures of boys peeing was child porn, but pictures of boys who weren't peeing wasn't, and that actually made more sense.

He'd spent quite a bit of time comparing his own genitals to those of the boys in those pictures, usually concluding that he didn't look too bad down there. He compared well in size with most of them – there were boys that were bigger in length, but many were smaller, and the fat kids were a joke, all of them. There wasn't a fat kid picture he'd ever seen where the kid's dick was worth beans. But he'd never seen a picture of a fat kid's dick hard, so he wasn't sure if they looked bigger then.

Quentin also felt good about the comparisons with other boys in that his dick wasn't nearly as ugly as those of a lot of other kids. Oh, it was kind of dark colored so it stood out from his groin more than Chad Henson's from 7th grade did, but his dick was nice and even and symmetrical, like Chad's, and it didn't have an ugly flap of skin hanging off it like many of the boys in the pictures on the net. So he was secretly proud of his penis.

That didn't mean he'd ever wanted to show it off, though, especially not in front of class while getting spanked. But then, a few weeks back, he'd made a remark about wanting to do one of the girls right there on the floor when Chad was being masturbated by each of the girls, and suddenly he'd become the first boy in his class to be stripped of his pants and bare-butt spanked. Of course, Quentin was no stranger to spankings in school, having averaged about 6 spankings a year since he'd started kindergarten, but that didn't mean that he was used to them, or that he ever welcomed another one. And that spanking had been bad, too – his little flat butt had been sore for days – it was no joke getting bare-butt spanked. He knew, of course, how much bare butt spankings hurt – he got them at home all the time. But somehow it hurt more when all your classmates, male and female alike, were watching you get it. And then he'd been masturbated by classmates alongside Chad afterward, and that had been embarrassing, especially because he tended to yip when he came.

Boys, and even some of the girls, had taken to calling him "Jack" since then, short for "Jack-off," sometimes making little dick stroking motions in the air when they said it. But that hadn't bothered Quentin that much, because he hadn't been the one jacking off – girls had jacked him off instead, and that actually had a bit of a cachet, you got right down to it. He bet a lot of the other boys would have liked to have girls jack them off, too, although probably not in front of class. Besides, in some ways, Jack was a better name than Quentin.

He hadn't been conscious that his dick was still hard when he'd been being spanked – Mrs. Sanford's hand covered more than half of each of his small buns with every blow, with overlaps in the middle, so his entire butt was on fire just moments after the commencement of his spanking, and thereafter all he was aware of was that soft, vulnerable skin and the firm but sensitive muscles under it, not anything else. And then there had been a brief pause in his spanking, but even before he could register that the burning in his bare butt had stopped increasing, new blows fell, this time blows coming from Mrs. Sanford's favorite paddle for boys, a sturdy wood affair that was simply a cut down ping pong paddle. New sensations suddenly arouse on Quentin's small butt, burning pain in the center of each blow, a powerful sting around the edges where the paddle edges deformed the skin and muscle with each spank. The paddling itself had lasted only 10 blows, but on Quentin's small butt, that was an eternity.

It was after she had stopped smacking him with the paddle, though, and released his genitals, and he had stood there half bouncing in front of the class, wishing he could clutch his stinging buns but , that it finally penetrated to his brain that his little weenie was bouncing in front of him fully hard, and Mrs. Sanford was frowning at it deeply. (Mainly, this was brought to his attention by a horde of helpful girls calling to Mrs. Sanford, things like, "Quentin's still hard!" "Quentin still had a boner," "Quentin has a woody!" and, the one that really got his attention, "Are you going to whip his peenie?")

The teacher didn't answer – she simply kept frowning at Quentin's offending phallus. Finally, she sighed. "Mr. Simmonds," she said, "if you're going to act like an animal, I suppose we'll have to treat you like an animal. Take off the rest of your clothes."

As the rest of his clothes consisted only of Quentin's school shirt, this was a task quickly accomplished. Totally naked, now Quentin stood in front of his classmates, his hard little cock still bobbing in front of him with each of his rapid heartbeats. The nipples on his flat, thin chest were the same light brown of his scrotum and his circumcision scar. Mrs. Sanford eyed him with a frown that she didn't feel. God, he was cute! She could just take that little hard thing of his and kiss it, right on the tip! But it wouldn't due to show her interest, not in any way. So she frowned. She'd promised him dire punishment if he was still hard, and she'd have to follow through. But she didn't really want to hurt that cute little pole, not really. She thought a minute, frowing deeper. And then, she pronounced sentence on him.

"Mr. Simmonds, as you appear to like being the center of attention, for the rest of the afternoon, you will stand on a pedestal in the middle of the classroom, where we can all watch you. You will start out facing the blackboard, but every 15 minutes I will tell you to turn, and you will make a quarter turn to the right and stand facing that way. And since you seem to like having your penis hard, you will keep it hard the rest of the day, until the final bell rings."

There was more to it than that of course. Quentin soon found out that he was only allowed to use one hand to keep himself hard, his left, and that failure to keep himself hard would result in him receiving a brief but sharp spanking on his already sore butt. Furthermore, allowing himself to orgasm would also result in him receiving a spanking. If he did lose control and make himself cum, though, he was to announce, loudly, "Here I go!" just as he had been forced to while being masturbated by the girls in his class alongside of Chad. And if he came and tried to hide it, he would receive two spankings, the first for cumming without permission, and the second for failing to announce it. In short, his little penis had to be hard enough to stand up above horizontal at all times, and if it was not, he had to play with himself right there in front of the class until it was. But if he played with himself too vigorously and made himself cum, he had to suffer the embarrassment of announcing it to the class, and then submit to a painful spanking on his bare butt for cumming in the first place.

Then the teacher dropped still another bombshell on the rubble of his embarrassment. Any spankings he earned for failing to stay hard or cumming while trying to stay hard would be administered by the girls in his class, starting at the front of the left side of the classroom and moving his way back through the class as necessary.

Quentin did not embarrass easily. He could pee in front of other boys without a thought, not just at the urinals, but out in a field, right on the ground, not caring if they stared at his little wiener the whole time he was peeing. He could change out of his pants and underpants and into a swimsuit in the boy's changing room at the pool without any worries of all about who was checking out his little butt or his boy stuff, or if they can see his tight little asshole when he bent over to pull up his trunks. He had even mooned girl cousins, and had considered, in his fantasies, flashing his wiener at one of them, or even a group of them some time. But that was entirely different from being undressed in front of your class, when everyone else was clothed, and having to submit to the utter humiliation of being bare butt spanked. First of all, you couldn't control any of it –you had to stand there and face them with all your boy stuff on display while you were undressed. It wasn't like mooning, or even peeing, where you pulled your pants down when you wanted – they just did it when they wanted to. And if your wiener was hard and maybe you didn't want to show it off that way, it didn't matter, you still had to show it. And then there were the positions you had to get into for punishment. The first time he had been spanked bare, three weeks ago, he had had to get into the little boy position over the teacher's lap, head down staring at the floor, butt up, wide open, and vulnerable. You could feel your buns separating when they forced you to bend, cool air caressing the insides of your cheeks, and you knew the teacher and the left side of the class probably could see your butt hole, and that was embarrassing, too.

And then the spanking would start, and it hurt a lot, but the worst of it was crying. Because you had to cry, it hurt so much. You had to cry like a little baby, and you know the other kids were watching you cry, feeling smug because they weren't little cry babies like you.

Yes, being spanked bare was worse by far than being spanked in your underpants – it hurt lots more, and it was many times more humiliating showing people your butt and your wiener than the smooth curves of your underpants covered flanks and your diminutive bulge.

But today's position was worse, because he was being held by his wiener and balls, and that had been uncomfortable, especially when his knees had gotten weak during the spanking, and the entire class got to see his grimaces, and his tears, and eventually the bubbling snot trailing over his lip and down his face as he bawled like a toddler. The paddle had hurt so much on the bare butt, and he couldn't help himself, and through puffy, blurry eyes, he saw the smug superiority of his classmates.

So now there he was, currently facing the right side of the class, left hand slowly circling his hard little penile knob, right hand gripping an extremely sore right butt cheek as ordered by the teacher. Little twinges of sensation ran from his penis tip to his spine, and he had to concentrate not to do the natural thing, on not speeding up his movements to bring that exquisite pleasure that only his little penis could provide. He felt extremely self conscious, because every eye in the class was looking at him. The teacher had decided to combine art class with his punishment, and students on all sides of him had turned their desks tour the center and were busily sketching their own renditions of "Nude Little Boy Masturbating."

Gabriel, currently looking at Quentin's flat butt, felt vaguely sorry for the kid. His new friend's butt wasn't all that red, not really – this teacher didn't really spank kids all that hard. It wasn't at all like the paddling Gabriel had given his nasty cousin Tommy, the cousin who had taken him up the chute when all he'd wanted was some company to get over his nightmares. He should have crawled into Chad's bed, but Beth had said Chad was bad, which was really stupid because Chad was the only good one of the bunch, as it turned out. He trusted Chad more than he sister now, who, after all, was a girl.

No, he didn't feel sorry for the kid's butt – he himself had experienced much worse spankings from his mother and various other people. It was the way they were making the kid jerk off in front of everybody, but not really jerk off. That had to be the pits. At one of the foster homes where he'd stayed, briefly, a 12 year old girl had marched into his bedroom one morning when the foster parents had risen early and gone to the store, pulled back his blanket, and ordered him to take his dick out and jerk off in front of her. When he'd refused and tried to pull the blanket over his character briefs, she'd simply sat on his stomach, pinned him to the bed, and taken his dick out through the fly herself. Despite the fact that her weight on his stomach made him feel like throwing up, he'd gotten hard. Then she'd gotten off him and told him to finish, threatening to tell her parents that he'd tried to peep at her in the bathroom if he didn't. Because he knew by then what happened when he accused a foster parent's child of misusing him—usually he was spanked instead of the wrongdoer, or sent to a corner for hours, or locked in a cellar or shed, or had his mouth repeatedly washed out with soap for "telling lies." Once, after an older boy had made him suck the boy's cock and threatened to take him up the chute next time, he'd tattled in desperation, and the parents had dealt with that one by stripping him naked and locking him in the garage with the boy he'd accused, with instructions to their own son to "give the brat the beating he deserves for peddling such filth!" The much larger and older boy had toyed with him, slapping his face, kicking his butt, punching his balls, and generally making him vow to never, ever divulge anything that another child did to him. So when she'd threatened him, he'd simply laid back and began jacking himself, watching her warily as he quickly brought himself to orgasm and she stared in fascination at his little penis pulsating dryly, the head fully emerged from the foreskin as he came. She'd warned him not to tell one more time and then left. Moments later, as he lay there feeling the aftereffects of the orgasm before starting his day, his foster mother had entered his room without warning and caught him with his underpants off and his hand on his cock, and had upended him right there and spanked him long and hard, while her daughter had looked on from the doorway with a smirk.

Yep, having to jack off in front of people was embarrassing. But Gabriel couldn't see anything much from his angle but the kid's arm flexing as he manipulated himself slowly, and he couldn't see the kid's face at all. And he was having trouble drawing the kid's butt. The kid's butt was too flat and small, quite unlike his own more rounded muscular globes. It barely jutted out at all. He wished the kid was facing him, because it would be much easier to draw the boy's pubes. The kid didn't have a bad little dick, as dicks went – rounded and helmeted, because he was cut, unlike Gabriel, but not a bad one. (Gabriel had seen plenty, too, often entirely too close to his mouth for comfort). The circumcision scar was prominent and brown, and the kid's balls were brown, too, almost as brown as Gabriel's own, which made a contrast to the boy's lighter surrounding skin. Gabriel hadn't seen the boy's butt hole, but he was betting it was brown, too, and probably not particularly interesting. He wondered what it would be like to have to keep a hard on going without cumming in front of everyone, and was glad that, at this moment, it wasn't him being punished.

Quentin's mind had drifted elsewhere, meanwhile. He was thinking about when Mrs. Sanford had made him take off his shirt, his last article of clothing, to present him to the class truly naked. It was funny, but somehow he felt less naked after taking of the shirt than when it'd been on. With his school shirt on, the contrast with his naked lower half had served to remind him all his privates were hanging out, but with the shirt off, it was easy to imagine he was simply getting ready for a shower, and had just slipped his clothes off and was going to turn the water on. The surrounding children dissolved into a mist of steam from the shower in his mind, and he was alone, idly fingering his wiener, making it hard as he stepped into the shower and coated it with soap for an eagerly anticipated jerk-off session. Thinking about it, he stopped circling his dick and turned his left hand into a fist, feeling the welcome relief as he gripped his stiff, yearning little pole tightly and began sliding the foreskin down and up and down and up over the head of his penis, feeling the intense, tickly pleasures the familiar activity created. Excitement built quickly, and he fought it, intensifying the orgasm as he did until he finally couldn't fight it any more and rose to his toes, a mental roar rising in his head, almost like excited voices.

Gabriel looked down at his paper, then up again, his jaw dropping with amazement. What was that stupid kid doing? It looked like he was fisting his dick as hard as he could! Almost like he wanted to cum! Around him, excited voices rose as the other classmates noted Quentin's sudden change in activity. "Hey, he's jerking off for real!" an excited little boy said from the back.

"He's gonna orplasm!" a girl in front of Quentin exclaimed. "Can he squirt stuff like that big kid did? I don't want it on me!" She shoved her chair back in alarm.

Quentin's body went stiff and he arched his back, his butt cheeks clenching as he crested mightily, spasms running through him. As the pleasure bled off, he realized it was a babble of excited classmate's voices he was hearing, and he wasn't in the shower alone, he was on a pedestal in the middle of the classroom, holding a now drooping, sated penis in his hand as kids exchanged excited comments all around him. "What'd you do that for, you moron?" the boy whose seat was closest to him said. "Now you're gonna get it!"

"Double spanking!" a girl behind him agreed.

"Quentin Simmonds!" Mrs. Sanford said. "I will not have that sort of willful disobedience in this classroom! You were instructed to keep your penis hard, but not to orgasm! Get down off that pedestal right now and report to Shana for your spanking! Then you can move back a seat to Mary Kate for your second spanking! Right over her lap, young man, yes, that's it! Slide forward more, and bend your bottom! Now hold still until she'd done!"

Quentin, shamefaced, stared at the floor. The girl's school skirt felt soft under him, and his sated penis was trapped against her leg quite uncomfortably. He could feel her fussing with his position, shoving him more forward, pushing on his thighs and making him bend his ass more. He wondered if she could feel his soft wiener against her leg. Her hand rested briefly on his left bun and pulled, and he realized she was looking into his butt crack, probably checking out his butt hole up close and personal. He wished he could fart in her face, but his sphincter was tight and refused to cooperate. Actually, that was probably a good thing – impulses like that was what got him into trouble all the time. "How many times should I spank him?" Shana asked just above his head.

"You may each spank him 25 times," Mrs. Sanford said. "That should be sufficient as a reminder."

"Should I hit him mostly down here, where he sits?" she asked, still holding Quentin's butt apart. Quentin could swear he felt her breath on his hole. "Or should I spread it around a little?"

"You may spank him anywhere his underpants covers," Mrs. Sanford said. "Do spread the spanks out, though – it's going to be a long afternoon for Mr. Simmonds, I'm afraid. I suspect he's going to have to be given a few more lessons before it's over, and we wouldn't want him blistering excessively – it might limit future punishments."

"What if he doesn't hold still?" Shana asked.

"Then you will have to hold him," Mrs. Simmonds said. "By his genitals if necessary. But he appears to be holding still for the moment."

"Oh," Shana said, and something in her voice told Quentin she hoped he struggled from the first blow. He vowed to hold absolutely still.

She didn't spank him all that hard, but 25 on the bare when your butt is already sore from a teacher administered spanking and paddling still hurt, and it was a sniffling, damp-eyed Quentin who rose and walked stiff-legged to the next chair, where he draped himself shame-faced across Mary Kate's lap for his second spanking.

Mary Kate made him cry. He hadn't wanted to, and had vowed to fight it, but she was determined. "I know what I'm doing," she'd announced as she'd settled him over her lap. "I've got brothers!" And she had – she spanked mostly in the centers of his buns, letting the spanks overlap and building the sting that way, and Quentin was crying despite himself, and when he was allowed to rise after his second 25 spanks, his hands flew to his butt where he proceeded to rub himself for the next minute as he hopped around the room, his little soft penis flopping comically as he did. Finally, Mrs. Sanford took him by the arm and guided him back to the pedestal, facing him to the back of the classroom. "You get a 5 minute break," she said. "And at the end of the 5 minutes, your little boy penis had better be up and saluting! After all, there are 8 girls in here who haven't spanked you yet, and quite a bit of afternoon to go."

"What if he runs out of girls, Mrs. Sanford?" Brittany asked sweetly. Quentin cringed as he hunched on the pedestal. Britanny was the reason he'd gotten bare-butt spanked the first time – well, technically, it was his rather poorly concealed remark about wanting to do her on the floor, but he still blamed her for inspiring the remark.

"If we run out of girls, we'll have to start in on the boys, I'd guess," Mrs. Sanford said. "Stand up straight, young man! Students, start capturing him from this new angle! Boys have a lot of curves, especially their underpants regions, and a lot of angles in the back and shoulders! Try to get them all right!"

It seemed like only moments before Mrs. Sanford announced, "Time's up – get hard again, young man!" and Quentin, with an audible groan, began slowly circling his small penis head again, coaxing it to hardness. He glanced at the clock and realized that there was still an hour of class left. An hour of staying hard but not coming. His wiener was already hard and begging him for release. It was going to be a very long afternoon.