This is a story. It never happened and never will. The General Disclaimer is incorporated herein by reference.

BR&T date: Wednesday, 14 February 1996

When the bell rang and everyone in her fourth-grade class stood up, Sara stood with them, still confused by most everything at her new school, Bunnytail Elementary. Her best idea to avoid any more spankings from the principal or her teacher was to do what everyone else did, unless told to do something else. Thus she joined the end of the line and filed out of the classroom with the other students, followed them down the hallway to the left and into the music classroom. She took a seat in one of the metal folding chairs arranged in five rows of six between an assortment of unused video equipment on tripods at the rear of the room and a small stage at the front, as they all did.

A new teacher, or at least new to her, entered just behind her. He lifted a music book from a shelf and turned to the class. When he noticed Sara in the first seat of the front row, he moved to stand closer to her. "You're new here, aren't you?" he asked her. "I haven't seen you in my class before, anyway."

"Yes," Sara answered, hoping that being new wasn't enough to get sent to the principal's office. She'd be in terrible trouble with her parents if they heard about any more incidents, not to mention how terrible the principal was himself.

"Alright, I was going to pick someone at random for the next solo who hadn't done one already, but since you're new here, we may as well all find out right away how well you sing." He held out the music book to her as he spoke.

Sara reluctantly took it. She didn't want to sing a solo in front of the whole class, but figured she probably didn't have any choice, and better not protest. Still, she didn't know what she was supposed to do.

Just then the classroom intercom squawked with a now-familiar and now-hated voice. "Mister Hurtman, could you come to my office right away? There's something we have to discuss."

The music teacher quickly turned to the intercom. No one in the class saw his brief smile as he answered "Be there in a minute." Turning back to her, he gestured toward the stage. "I can't stay to explain everything, but basically, go up on the stage there, stand on the star inside a circle, open the book to the next marked song, and sing it solo. The rest of the class will fill in anything I've forgotten. I should be back shortly, but it might take a while."

He stopped on his way out the door, held the intercom button, and spoke loudly, "Say, could you put the intercom on monitor for me so I can hear what's going on in my classroom while I'm in your office? Thanks." Then he quickly left, crossed the hall and disappeared into the teacher's lounge as a shortcut to the principal's office.

Without the teacher there to make her do it, Sara felt even more reluctant to sing a solo in front of the new class. She'd be so embarrassed even to be on the stage alone, let alone sing alone. But at least it wouldn't be as bad as yesterday, she thought. She'd been forced to stand naked on her desk, turning every direction, getting spanked, for nearly ten minutes. Not even the embarrassment of singing by herself could be as bad as that.

"Better get moving," a whisper from behind her urged.

Sara turned, but couldn't tell who had whispered. She also couldn't tell whether someone had warned her out of concern for her, or threatened her. It didn't matter anyway. She stood, hesitantly approached the small stage at the front of the room, and stepped up onto it. She saw the circle with the star in the center of the stage, and stood on it, then began to open the book.

"You have to face the class!" a boy called out from the back.

"Use the microphone, too," another boy added.

That made sense to her. She turned as directed, picked up a microphone from the floor beside her, and resumed opening the music book where a large marker stuck out the top. She was glad to see it marked a song she mostly knew. "This ol-" she began to sing the first verse.

"You have to introduce yourself first!!" another boy yelled, followed by "And then tell everyone what you're going to do!" and "Name the song!" by other boys. Finally, the first boy warned, "If you're not loud enough for Mister Hurtman to hear you over the intercom, I'll bet he'll be mad. Don't count on the microphone helping with that."

Indeed, she didn't see any speakers. Maybe the microphone was just for the practice of holding one while singing, she decided. 'Introduce myself, and say what I'm going to do,' she remembered, 'and name the song.' "I'm - um, My name is Sara. I'm going to si-"

"Don't forget your age and class!" a boy shouted. "Full name!" another yelled. "Start over," another told her.

She didn't like taking orders from all those boys, and got a little mad about their demanding tone, but they knew what the teacher expected better than she did, and she didn't want to get in trouble, certainly didn't want to get spanked or sent to the principal, so she did what they said. "My name is Sara Jessica Carson. I'm ten years old. Um, I'm in fourth grade." It annoyed her to give another full introduction to a class that already knew her, but it made sense at the start of a performance in a music class, even a fake performance like this, that no one but her classmates would see, and at least she wasn't being punished. "I'm going to sing This Old Man," she finished.

Several boys suddenly cheered, surprising her. She wondered whether they really liked that song. It didn't seem to her to be a song worth cheering about. Alright, maybe they were trying to be nice, trying to encourage her. She smiled a little at the thought, though she remained doubtful.

"This old man, he played one..." Sara began to sing, not needing to read the words in the book yet, and singing the tune from memory, unable to read the notes in any case. She paused briefly when two boys stood up. "He played knick-knack just for fun..." she continued. The boys moved with purpose to the ends of the stage, one on either side of her. No one in the class said anything. "With a knick-knack paddy whack," she sang as the boys stepped up onto the stage. They disappeared behind her as she finished the first verse, "give a dog a bone. This old man came rolling home."

Before she started the next verse, she turned to see what they were doing. They weren't doing anything, just standing there smiling. Well, even though she was supposed to sing solo, maybe they were going to be backup singers for her, she hoped. That would be really nice. Whatever they were doing, she decided to ignore them for now, and thank them later if they deserved it.

She still felt embarrassed about singing in front of her new classmates, few of whom she knew at all, but it wasn't so bad now that she'd started. She hurried to start on the second verse. "This old man, he played two. He played knick-knack on my shoe." It didn't occur to her to wonder how the song had come to be written with such stupid lyrics, since she'd heard it so many times before.

"With a knick-knack paddy whack giHey!!" she stopped singing when something struck the back of her skirt hard. She turned to see one of the boys with a leather belt folded in half, holding it by the buckle and the other end. "What are you doing, Jimmy?" she stormed. "Get away from me!"

"Those aren't the words to the song," the other boy teased. "Better keep singing like the teacher said."

"Or you'll really regret it," the boy with the belt emphasized.

With a huff, Sara turned back to the class and finished, "give a dog a bone. This old man came rolling home." It might be hard to ignore those jerks if they kept doing that, but she was determined to show them they couldn't get to her.

"This old man, he played three," she sang the next verse, still not needing the book, and only holding the silly microphone because she'd been told to. "He played knick-knack on my knee. With a knick-knack paddy whaAAaaack! Aaaww! give a dog a bone..." A quick look behind her showed why she'd felt such a sudden sting. The other boy had swatted her with his own belt, but not on her skirt. The two boys had lifted the back of her skirt together, so the belt had hit her panties as hard as it had hit her skirt before.

"Keep singing!" a boy hissed a warning.

"This old man came rolling home," she half-sang angrily. Everyone in the class must have seen them do it, and no one had said or done anything to warn her.

"Sing!" the other one hissed. Two more boys stood and began approaching the stage, eyes on her, grinning.

Sara panicked. She twisted away from the boys and started running.

"Mister Hurtman!" a boy yelled. "Sara isn't standing in the circle anymore!!" Several others also yelled their own accusations as the two boys on stage and the two others standing grabbed her and wrestled her down. She was no match for them, and they easily pinned her arms behind her back. The book and microphone dropped loudly to the stage.

"Sara Jessica Carson!" the music teacher's voice crackled sternly from the intercom. "I'm sure I told you where to stand. You have ten seconds to get back there or I'll deal with you or have Principal Winters do it for me. He's right here listening too."

"But Jimmy and Dave are-" Sara protested.

"All I care about is what you are doing," the intercom barked, "so do what you were told."

The boys released her and helped her to her feet, but not helpfully. They handed the book and microphone back to her, grinning smugly. Dejectedly, Sara returned to the circle. All four boys followed her and surrounded her on the stage.

"Is she back there yet, class?" the teacher asked. On hearing that she was, he commanded "Then finish the song like I told you, and I better not hear of any more of your misbehavior."

"This old man, he played four!" Sara sang loudly, pretending nothing was wrong, as the two new boys lifted her skirt in back and yet another stood up and approached the stage. "He played knick-knack on my doooohhr!" she squealed when she felt a tug on the back of her panties and the sides sliding down her hips. All four boys behind her knew what they were doing, even if anyone still sitting in front of her didn't. "With a knick-knack ..." Sara hesitated. She'd figured out the pattern. "A knick-knack paddy... paddy..."

"Those aren't the words," a whisper mocked. "Better sing it right, and quick, unless you really want a trip to the principal."

"... paddy wha-YYAaaa Aaaah! -aaaack! give a dog a bohhne. Awwwhh this old mahnn came rolling home." Her bare ass stung awfully from the belt smacking as hard as the boy could swing it. "Stop it, Cotton!" she whined in protest, looking over her shoulder at two boys holding folded belts.

"My turn," someone behind her whispered, after she turned to face the class again. Another boy rose to his feet and approached the stage with a grin.

"Stop it!" she whined again, without looking to see who was pulling at her skirt. "This old man, he played five. He played knick-knack..." She had to look to check the words in the book, since she'd heard different versions of this verse. While she concentrated on that, she almost missed her skirt dropping to her ankles. "Stop it!" she whispered again, demandingly. Good thing for her the microphone didn't work, since she'd held it close to her mouth at the time.

As soon as she verified the words, she quickly lowered the book to hide the front of her panties from all the kids in her class. With her hands full with the book and microphone, she couldn't do anything about the boys behind her. "... while alive," she tried to sing the unfamiliar words despite her fear. She didn't even have the option of clenching her jaw, since she had to keep singing. "With a knick-knack paddy whhhaAAahhwwwwck give a dog a bone this old man came rolling home." Everyone in the class could see her skirt at her ankles and everyone in the class must have heard the sharp snap of the belt against her bare bottom and her wail of pain, but all the boys still seated just grinned, and none of the girls said anything.

Sara sang the sixth verse, squirming as two boys unhesitatingly reached in front of her and completely unbuttoned her short-sleeved white blouse. When they spread the front open, yanked the collar down her back, and tugged the sleeves down her arms to her elbows, she raised the music book to cover her exposed bare chest, choosing instead to let the class see her panties. "Oh please stop it," she whimpered without any hope, between lines. She kept going, "He played knick-knack on my bricks." She knew exactly what was about to happen, and exactly when, but she couldn't prevent it, nor did her pleading help. She had to sing the word that would make her scream. And it did: the swat itself, and the realisation that two boys had yanked her panties all the way down to her ankles an instant before another boy had smacked her with his belt.

Tears crept down her cheeks meekly at first, then abandoning caution flowed to her chin, gathered there, and dropped. "This... this old man, he played seven..." she sniffed, using the book to try to hide her pussy from the class. Jimmy stood in front of her, just to her left to avoid blocking the view of her, and pulled the book out of her hand, holding it by her face so she could still read the words but couldn't cover anything with it. Another boy to her right took the microphone from her and held it up for her as she continued singing. When she tried to grab the book, two other boys yanked her arms back, forced her elbows straight, and stripped off her blouse, dropping it to the floor in front of her. Sara stood on the stage, naked from her ankles up, arms pinned behind her, forced to sing despite knowing every word brought her closer and closer to... "a knick-knack paddy whaAAAAWWWWWWW! awwwww awwwh aauuwww!!" She looked back and quietly pleaded "Joseph, let me go!! Steeeeeve! Staaahp it!"

Behind her, Steve laughed almost as loud as the scream he'd caused. Several other boys remaining in the chairs also laughed to see her standing naked and helpless on the stage, screaming and crying. A boy forcefully raised Sara's left foot behind her while others supported her so she wouldn't - no, make that couldn't - fall. He slid her skirt and her panties off her ankle, then removed her shoe. He didn't release her foot and let her stand again until he'd finished getting her sock down and off.

All the while he worked, Sara had to keep singing. "He played knick-knack on my gaaa- ate." It didn't surprise her when one of the boys forced her other foot back and stripped off her skirt and panties, and her other shoe and sock. He released her to stand with both bare feet on the hard stage floor, stark naked and exposed to everyone, bawling, as hands gripped her arms and the song brought her ever closer to another inescapable brutal swat. With no attempt to hide from either the class or from her, two boys stood beside her, both with belts at the ready. WHACK! WHACCK!! they whipped Sara's sore bare ass hard at the same instant.

Every boy in her class laughed now while she shrieked and bawled and struggled and tried to sing the song. "WWWWHHAAAUW!! AAauuw aaaack, give uhhh uhh dog a uhhh uhhh bone. Thiiiisss uuwwwhh this old man came rolling home." Whimpering quietly so the teacher wouldn't hear words that weren't in the song, she pleaded "ohhh pleeeease! please leave me alohhhne!"

A boy worked her shoelaces out of her shoes one at a time, cut them in half with a knife, and tossed them to boys behind her. She felt extra pain as someone tied the cords tightly around her wrists then tied her wrists together. A smirking boy beside her held the silly prop microphone close to her mouth as she sang, and even closer whenever she pleaded, whimpered, or screamed, acting as if it mattered, as if she was actually performing on stage, or had an audience other than the fourth-grade class in the chairs.

Sara glanced at the wall clock. It hadn't quite been four minutes since class had started. She knew there weren't many more verses and she'd be done with the song, and they'd have to let her go sit down. She desperately held that thought as she sang, "This old man, he played nine..."

The intercom emitted a high-pitched feedback squeal, then the music teacher came on. "I'm afraid this meeting will take longer than expected. I won't be back to class at all this hour. Sara Carson, you keep singing until class is over. When you get to the end of the song, just start over from the beginning again every time. I'll ask Principal Winters to turn off the monitoring, but I will ask the class later to make sure you did what you were told for the rest of the hour. Alright everyone, since you have recess after music class on wednesdays, when the bell rings to say music class is over, everyone immediately go out to recess."

The teacher finished and the intercom went silent. A boy laughed. "When class is over, everyone, he said, immediately, he said, has to go out to recess. That's what we've all been told to do, so everyone better do it." Everyone smiled at Sara. Every one of the boys, anyway. But that was a long time, still. Before then, they had plans for the other shoelace that had been cut in two, involving Sara's ankles and a couple of folding chairs that two more boys picked up before eagerly making their way to the stage.

"UUhhhhh! Uuuuhhh!" Sara sobbed as numerous hands bent her over and others forced her legs apart. "This old man, he played one, he played knick-knack just for fuhhh- fuh- fuun..."