CAMT50_Chads_Anger_Management_Training_Chapter_50
Chad's Anger Management Training Chapter 50
by Chadlad

copyright 2006 by Chadlad, all rights reserved
chadlad3@yahoo.com

* * * * *
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.
* * * * *


Chapter 50:  Working Both Ends Against the Middle

The fourth grade class had a different mood about it than
the class Chad had just left.  The first thing that was
obvious is that the room smelled of popcorn.  The desks were
pushed back into a corner, and the girls were seated in a
semicircle, grinning and whispering to one another, each
with their own tubs of popcorn at their sides or in front of
them.  The boys, on the other hand, were gathered to one
side of the front in a bunch, looking somewhat unhappy and
apprehensive.  None of them had any popcorn, either.

"Ah, the guest of honor is here, and right on time," the
teacher said.  "What was your name again, young man?"  When
Chad hesitantly replied, she beckoned them to the front of
the room, setting up chairs for his mother and Mrs.
Hendricks.  She pointed to a piece of carpeting on the
floor, similar to the pieces each girl was seated on.  The
boys stirred uneasily to one side.  Chad sat down, carefully
separating his legs to ease his raw, aching wiener. It had
remained soft but extended as it often did post-orgasm, it
raw redness obvious.  Girls noticed and began pointing at it
and giggling, while the boys also began nudging each other
and pointing.

Mrs. Hendricks took charge.  "Mr. Henson has just come from
the 5th grade, where he was masturbated by each of the girls
and then spent several minutes on the Stimulator.  If you'll
recall from our discussion on Friday, the Stimulator is a
device that when attached to a young boy makes him want to
masturbate uncontrollably until his penis is red and raw. 
That's why his genitals appear the way they do."  She turned
to the 4th grade teacher.  "He's all yours," she said.

"The fourth grade had some difficulty making a decision on
your punishment, Mr. Henson, because the boys and girls
clearly differed in their choices.  It isn't that the boys
wanted to go easy on you, far from it.  They were arguing
that you should be spanked on your bare bottom for the
entire 50 minutes.  However, two of our boys started
fighting each other during the discussion, and punches were
thrown, and they both earned themselves good bare bottomed
spankings Friday afternoon," the teacher said, glancing
significantly at two boys standing to the side, who were
looking studiously at the floor, "After the two of them were
spanked and sent to the corner, the girls outnumbered the
boys who were left, and their choice passed easily."

The teacher paused and looked at Chad expectantly.  Chad
realized she was waiting for him to respond.  He wet his dry
lips.  "What – What are you going to do to me?" he managed
to squeak.

"We're going to punish your mouth.  The girls pointed out
that this makes sense because it is the mouth of the girl
you attacked that suffered the most damage.  Anyway," she
said.  "It has been decided by our girls that you will
orally pleasure each of the 10 boys in our class, making
each orgasm in succession, and continuing for 30 minutes,
thus giving us time for this introduction and time for you
to proceed to your next class and your next punishment. 
Before the altercation between my two little miscreants
occurred, I had planned to place a low screen in front of
you while you worked, to afford my boys privacy and dignity
while you serviced them.  But after the unseemly incident in
my class, I decided that my boys all need to learn a lesson
in humility, so I'm dispensing with the screen and you'll
perform on each of them in the open.  Boys, if you will
prepare yourself as you were instructed earlier?"

"Yeah, way to go, you dorks," a boy said to the two who were
looking at the floor.  "'Cause of you we all have to be
naked!"

The teacher looked at the speaker sharply.  "That's right,"
she said.  "but only from the waist down."  She smiled at
the boys, who shuffled nervously.  "Remember, fellows, that
if you're good it's only embarrassment you'll suffer, not
pain.  If not..."  The two kids who'd been spanked gripped
their bottoms with both hands, apparently in memory.  Chad
was surprised at the range of the sizes of these little 4th
graders.  The little guys were truly little squirts, but two
of the bigger ones were almost as big as him.

"Do we have to?" the smallest boy of the group chimed in. He
was standing closest to Chad. The teacher looked at him
sharply.

"Of course not," she said.  "You can take your pants and
underpants off and go over my lap for a sound spanking
instead, and then allow Mr. Henson to pleasure you.  Take
your pick."  The boy immediately began kicking off his
shoes, appearing to shrink in size as he did.

Chad, seated on his haunches in front of the class in the
center of the arch of girls, watched in amazement as boys,
some reluctant, some more determined, began slipping off
shoes and then unbuttoning and lowering their pants, placing
them in small piles along the front wall.  In seconds a
rainbow of different colors of boxers and tiny briefs were
on display, including, to Chad's amazement, one boy who wore
a thong-like thing similar to what he'd worn in the stocks
on Sunday.  Weird, Chad thought to himself – his mother had
always told him that boys wore underwear to cover their
butts if their pants tore, and to protect their pants from
poo if they had an accident or wiped badly.  What good was
that thong thing in those situations?

Meanwhile, the boys had paused and were looking at each
other, each waiting for others to go first.  Their teacher
clapped her hands for attention. "All the way, gentlemen,"
she ordered.  "It's time for you boys to stop having secrets
from the girls.  Remember, anyone who doesn't comply can
take his pants off for a bare butt spanking first instead,
and the mandatory lunch time display that goes with it," the
teacher said cheerfully.

"Yeah, take it off!" a girl in the center giggled.

"Let's see those little weenies!" the girl next to her said.

"And your butts!" another giggled hysterically.

The little guy near Chad who'd protested earlier put on a
determined look and peeled his tiny briefs off, tossing them
aside and baring his little, jutting penis and darker
scrotum, staring defiantly around him.  Other boys followed
suit with varying degrees of blushing, until only a chubby
boy in back was left.  At a threatening look from the
teacher, he reluctantly pulled down his own boxers,
revealing his almost invisible penis buried in the fatty
bulge of his groin, his scrotum just a wrinkled patch, his
baby balls buried in the fat.  Chad wondered, briefly, if
that was how Randy Martinez in his own class would look
naked.

"In line, gentlemen – alphabetical order," the teacher
ordered.  The little guy immediately moved away from Chad,
and the first place in line was taken by a medium-sized
brown haired boy with a stiff, already hard and jutting
penis about the size of Chad's and a similar, but more
forward-bulging scrotum.   The other boys jostled
uncomfortably as they found their places in line.  Most had
hands cupped over their genitals, but some stood openly,
ignoring the girls' eager eyes.  Chad noticed that two of
the boys bore fading marks on their now bare butts,
testimony to how hard this teacher spanked.

"Might was well stop trying to cover yourselves, gentlemen,"
the teacher chided.  "We're all going to see everything
sooner or later.  In fact, why don't you all put both your
hands on your butts right now and keep them there for the
rest of this exercise."  Groaning, the boys who'd been
covering up moved to put their hands on their bottoms, a
position that caused their hips to jut more and the genitals
to become more prominent.  Chad noted that the poor fat kid
wasn't helped a bit in appearance by doing this, though, his
tiny penis still just a circle embedded in a pad of fat.

Chad was somewhat relieved by the teacher's next action. 
She leaned toward the mildly blushing boy standing in front
of Chad and thoroughly swabbed his penis, scrotum, and the
surrounding groin with a baby wipe, covering the entire
surface.  "I can't guarantee these boy's hygienic habits,"
she commented, tossing the wipe in a convenient trash can. 
"So the board ordered they all be cleaned before you touch
them.  If I had my say you'd be doing them all in the raw,
and deserve whatever you got."  She indicated the first boy,
standing expectantly in front of Chad with his curved little
penis jutting out. "All right, Mr. Henson.  You may begin
orally pleasuring your first customer.  I'll be standing
behind you with a paddle, and if I don't think you're
working enthusiastically enough, you can expect some very
hard whacks.  Take Mr. Abramson's penis in your mouth and
begin right now," the 4th grade teacher ordered.

Chad had known from earlier experience that penises came in
all sizes and shapes and degrees of curvature and symmetry. 
He'd also known that boys, when they came, did so with a
variety of different noises and movements, but the next 30
minutes really emphasized those differences.  For starters,
6 of the boys were circumcised including the obviously
Jewish Mr. Abramson, but 4, two of them Hispanic, one ivory
white and red haired, and one a black haired, diminutive
Asian, were not.  He soon had more reason to be thankful for
the teacher's baby wipes, because several of the penises
that approached him were none too clean looking to start
with, and one of the uncircumcised boys took considerable
cleaning under the foreskin before he was ready.

Most of the boys came easily, taking little time, but some
were tougher to arouse and satisfy.  The little fat kid,
reminding Chad oddly of Eric Cartman from Southpark, didn't
have a hard on even after the teacher washed him, and his
penis projected so little that Chad had to lick the tip with
his tongue for an extended period of time before he even got
hard, an action that sent the girls who were watching into
hysterics.  Even after the boy managed to get hard, the
section projecting from the thick layer of fat on his groin
was only about an inch, so he kept falling out of Chad's
mouth when he'd move suddenly or flex his enormous butt.  It
didn't help Chad's job any that the girls teased the fat boy
unmercifully about his small equipment and big butt,
obviously greatly reducing his ardor.  Chad somehow expected
the boy to suddenly blurt out at any minute, "I'm not fat,
I'm big-boned!" but he appeared to be too shamed to do
anything but look down at Chad while Chad worked on him.

Some kids yelped when they came, some thrust at his mouth,
some whimpered, and some just gasped and then withdrew. 
None squirted anything, which didn't surprise Chad much. 
The smallest boy whooped and grabbed Chad's hair when he
came, almost yanking bunches of it out.  Incongruously, he
had the longest penis, a reddish pink tool longer than
Chad's with a prominent head.  It curved up jauntily, hardly
shrinking even when Chad was done.

As he was progressing through the boys a second time, Chad
realized how much he hated uncircumcised penises.  The tips
looked rude and slipped around in your mouth, impeding
contact with the head, and he couldn't get over the feeling
that disgusting stuff was under the boys' foreskins, despite
the fact the teacher cleaned them right in front of him.  He
decided he despised fat kids, too, as he labored to get the
chubby boy's dick up a second time.  And as the little
whooper jabbed energetically at his mouth and pulled his
hair a second time, he decided he didn't like little kids
with bigger dicks than his, either.  In fact, he decided, he
didn't like anything about little boys at all.

By the time he finished the second round, his mouth was
sore, his tongue was tired, his lips hurt, his face hurt,
his jaw hurt, and his whole mouth felt like it would taste
of boy forever.  As it was close enough to half an hour, the
teacher decreed the 4th grade was done punishing Chad.  The
boys weren't allowed to dress yet, however, until each had
filed past Chad, shaken his hand, and thanked him for giving
them oral pleasure.  Some of the boys could barely mumble
the words in embarrassment, some said them without
difficulty, and some smiled and sang them out
enthusiastically and with genuine feeling.  The little
whooper shook Chad's hand grandly and proclaimed, "he's
better than both my little brothers put together," sending
his classmates into hysterics.

"Don't mind him," The fourth grade teacher said to Chad and
his mother.  "He's the class clown.  Although he may be
telling the truth – he does have younger brothers."  She
looked meaningfully at the little guy.  "I would like to
point out, though," she said with louder and with menace,
"that there's a fine line between funny and insolent, and
I'll paddle any little boy's bare butt who crosses that
line."  The little guy looked abashed, but grinned at his
classmates as soon as the teacher's back was turned,
waggling his jutting, still hard penis at her.

Mrs. Hendricks helped Chad to his feet, and out of the
classroom Chad, his mother, and Mrs. Hendricks went, down
the hall, across the playground, and back into the middle
school building.  They made a quick stop at the boys' room,
where Chad was allowed to enter by himself.  Peeing was
painful through his raw penis – the pee tube burned from his
excessive masturbation, and the tip burned when the pee
dribbled on it.  He turned on the faucet and leaned into the
sink, letting the water wash over his sore organ, then he
patted it dry with paper towels.  He leaned over and stuck
his mouth under the faucet, letting water surge through it
for a bit and then swallowing some.  He still thought he
could taste boy, but decided maybe it was all in his mind. 
He washed his face at the sink, drying himself and looking
in the mirror.  His lips were chapped and a bit puffy, and
his wiener was a mess, but otherwise he looked okay. He
twisted to look at his butt in the mirror. The two whacks
with the paddle didn't even show, and his smooth, curved,
muscular buns looked perfect in the mirror.  But, he
thought, shuddering, some grade down the line almost
assuredly had chosen his butt as their target.  He just
hoped his butt wouldn't look like Jimmy's had when they were
done, or even worse.

Walking into the 8th grade with his mother and Mrs.
Hendricks, Chad immediately got a clear hint of what he
faced there.  A wide assortment paddles, whips, and straps
was arrayed on a table at the front of the room.  There was
a small plastic paddle with a wooden handle, a bigger wooden
paddle polished and waxed to a high sheen, a sturdy wooden
hair brush with an oval head, a thing that looked like a
ping-pong paddle, a nasty thing with holes in the end of it,
and several other shapes and sizes.  He also saw two leather
straps, one that split into two tails and one that was just
a straight belt of leather, a Stinger identical to the one
that had assaulted Alan's poor butt, and a willow switch
that looked freshly cut.  So it was going to be his butt
this time, Chad thought.  It was just a matter of who was
going to give it to him.  Odd, though, he thought, that
there was no spanking chair at the front of the room, nor,
to his relief, was the horse there.

The question of who was going to spank him and where wasn't
immediately settled.  He was hustled forward with no delay
and turned to face the class with the table behind him, and
told to stand in the hands behind head position.  He felt
incredibly small among these big kids – unlike his class,
none of the boys here were his size, and some were husky,
tall, and adult-looking.  The girls all looked deep into
puberty – they all had breasts of varying levels of
development, and some would have been highly attractive to
adult men, and indeed were attractive to Chad, too.  His
penis twitched in appreciation, drawing the attention of
most of the girls and boys.

"Look, the little horn dog is getting a hard on," one of the
boys smirked, taking in his small boy genitals and
undersized frame.

"So it is possible to escape from Munchkinland," a girl in
the back cracked, to general laughter.

"If they all are hung like him, how do they make baby
Munchkins?" the girl next to her responded.

"I used to have a dick like that," a tall boy in the front
said loudly.  "But then I turned 7."

"Come to order, class," Mrs. Amahl, the 8th grade teacher,
said.  There was a general shuffling, but the class quieted
down quickly.  "Mr. Henson is here for his well deserved
punishment.  But before we commence, I'd like to have him
tell us what he's experienced so far, so that all of you can
appreciate why you don't want to be the next person to run
the gauntlet here at Miriam Webster Middle School.  Mr.
Henson?"

Chad looked at her questioningly.  "What am I supposed to
do?" he finally asked.

"Tell the class what you've had to go through so far," Mrs.
Hendricks responded.  "And don't leave anything out, unless
you want me to add an additional punishment to your list. 
I, personally, would love to paddle your little butt right
here and now!"

Chad swallowed and cleared his throat.  "Well, I, umm, I
went to the 5th grade, and, um, I had to do things to
myself.  Then I went to the 4th grade, and ..."

Mrs. Hendricks interrupted.  "Do you want a bare-bottomed
paddling from me right now?" she demanded.

"No," Chad responded quickly.

"Then tell them everything.  Tell what you had to do, every
detail, and tell how you felt doing it," she said,
glowering.

"The, um, the girls rubbed my wiener," Chad said.

"Your what?" Mrs. Hendricks said.  "Use adult words – you
aren't 6.  And tell the whole story.  There was a contest,
wasn't there?"

"They rubbed my penis. And if they made me cum they got a
prize." Chad said quickly.

"Orgasm, Mr. Henson.  They tried to make you have an orgasm. 
Use adult words, I'm not warning you again.  Then what?"
Mrs. Hendricks said.

Chad swallowed down his terror.  "Then they put this egg
thing way up my poo, I mean my bottom hole, and they put a
wire around my wein-, I mean my p- p- penis, and they were
hooked to this machine and when they turned it on it made my
p- p- penis burn."  Why couldn't he say "penis" without
stuttering, Chad wondered to himself.  "And the only way to
make it not burn so much was to rub it, so I rubbed it, but
then I had to say when I came-- I mean, when I orgasmed, and
I forgot once, and they turned the machine up, and then it
hurt more and I had to rub harder, and they wouldn't make it
stop until I was all sore."  He pointed at his small penis,
which was still distended and glowing red.

"Now tell them about the 4th graders," Mrs. Hendricks said.

Chad blushed with shame.  "I had to, um, um, suck them,"
Chad whispered.

"What did you have to do?" Mrs. Hendricks snapped.  "Speak
up!"

"I had to suck them," Chad said a little louder, but only
barely.

"One last chance, then you go over my knee," Mrs. Hendricks
thundered.  "Shout it out!"

"I HAD TO SUCK THEM," Chad wailed, terrified of an extra
spanking from this powerful woman.

In front of him, the class whooped and hollered, boys
spreading their legs and pointing at their own crotches,
girls giggling and wishing they could have seen his
performance.  Mrs. Hendricks let the laughter die down, but
had no intention of letting Chad get off the hook.  "You had
to suck what part of them, Mr. Henson?" she asked archly.

"Ummmm, I had to suck their wien- ummm, their p- p-
penises," Chad muttered, remembering to use the official
adult word but having trouble getting it out again.  It was
so much easier saying "wiener." The class roared with
laughter some more.

"And how did that make you feel?" Mrs. Hendricks said icily,
when the laughter died down again.

"I didn't feel anything," Chad said, looking at the floor.

"That's a lie, you impertinent little brat!  Now how did it
really make you feel?!"

"I um, I hated it," Chad said, noting with terror that Mrs.
Hendricks had picked up a wooden paddle from the table and
was patting her other hand with it. "It was dirty and nasty,
and I hated it."

"You mean they came in his mouth!" a girl in front
exclaimed.  "Gross!"

"They didn't squirt anything," Chad said automatically. 
"They're too little."  The crowd of 8th graders roared
louder.  When they finally calmed again, Mrs. Amahl, took
the floor.  "So what do you think we have planned for you?"
she asked.

Chad looked to the side, taking in the table full of
spanking implements.  "You're going to paddle me, aren't
you." he stated with resignation.

"No, I'm not," Mrs. Amahl replied.  "Guess again."

"You're not going to let all the girls paddle me, are you? 
Each with a different paddle?  Please say no!" Chad wailed. 
He couldn't imagine getting 11 separate paddlings from these
big girls!

"Is that your wish?  Not to have my girls paddle you?  You
should be thrilled, then, to know I'm granting your wish. 
None of the girls in this class will paddle you." Mrs. Amahl
replied.  She smiled broadly, like a cat cornering a mouse.

"Not the boys!" Chad wailed.  He surveyed the males in the
class, many of whom were as big as Joey.  He imagined how
hard they could paddle him, and how badly it would hurt.

"Don't be ridiculous," Mrs. Amahl snapped.  "Boys are only
rarely allowed to discipline other boys at Miriam Webster. 
It goes against nature!  Discipline of ornery brats is a job
better suited to the female temperament."

"Then who's going to paddle me?" Chad said, confused.

"You are," Mrs. Amahl said, dropping her bombshell.  She
looked at Chad's mother.  "The girls came up with this one
on their own!  You have to admit it's very creative.  They
couldn't agree on which of them should paddle you, and then
Kathy commented that you certainly couldn't paddle yourself,
and then Celeste asked why not, and the idea just progressed
from there.  As we discussed it, we realized that it would
be much more humiliating and painful for you to be both the
spanker and the spankee, having to beat your own bottom even
though you didn't want to.  So here we are."

She pulled Chad around to the far side of the table, so he
was facing the class with the table between them.  "We
decided that you have to give yourself at least two swats
with each of these," she said, indicating the wide variety
of spanking implements.  "The girls will decide how many
swats you'll give yourself with each paddle, strap, or
switch by rolling the big dice."  She motioned to a pair of
girls sitting in the front at the same desk.  Chad noticed
for the first time that they had a pair of large plastic
novelty dice in front of them, the number 6 visible on top
of each one.  Chad did a quick count of the number of items
on the desk, coming up with a total of 12 spanking
implements.  So the smallest number of swats he'd have to
give himself would be 24 if they rolled a 2 every time (fat
chance of that), and the most would be a monstrous 144! 
Chad remembered having heard that 7 was the most common roll
of two dice, and that 7, 6, and 8 together came up in about
half of dice rolls.  So if he averaged 7 swats an item, he'd
still have to give himself 84!

"You're probably wondering how we're going to get you to
paddle yourself hard enough to actually hurt," Mrs. Amahl
continued.  "It's really very simple.  I'm going to watch
each swat you give yourself, and any that aren't hard
enough, you'll have to give to yourself again, along with an
additional swat for not trying hard enough.  And if at any
time I decide you've stopped trying, I'll just give you the
maximum of 12 apiece with each instrument that's left, and
I'll be certain they are of maximum hardness!"  She paused
to let the threat sink in.  "Now let's get you prepared,"
she added.

She brought Chad back around the table and faced him away
from the class, having him lean with his elbows on the table
and his face inches away from some of the nastiest looking
paddles he'd ever seen.  A tall, shapely 8th grade girl was
called up to apply lotion to his bottom, Mrs. Amahl
commenting as she did that the lotion was particularly good
for softening a boy's butt, making it harder to blister it
and break the skin but easier to make it sting.  Chad
fidgeted as his entire butt was massaged and the 8th graders
looked on, all too aware of his total nudity, and of her
careful attention to his butt crack, the skin between his
legs, and the base of his balls.  Having experienced it
before, he wasn't surprised when her finger invaded his butt
hole and pushed lotion in it, too, but he gasped anyway. In
short order, Mrs. Amahl straightened him up facing the
table.

"You'll find there are advantages to paddling yourself,"
Mrs. Amahl said.  "You can decide how long to wait between
spanks, and you don't have to give yourself another blow
until you're ready.  You can decide where on your bottom to
strike, with the exception of a couple of the instruments –
in those cases I'll tell you where.  You can switch hands
when you want, and strike yourself from either side.  But
you can't take too long, because if we get down to the last
10 minutes of your time, I'll simply give you 12 each with
the remaining instruments, and we're saving the worst ones
for last."

"Now to start off," she said to him.  "You will give
yourself a hand spanking all over your bottom to make it
nice and pink and warm it up.  Use both hands at the same
time, and cover the whole area.  Begin."

Chad looked at his hands dubiously, then obediently cupped
his bottom.  He felt ridiculous raising them both and
bringing them down on his own butt, making a soft smacking
noise.

"Hard, young man.  This isn't a gentle massage – it's a
painful punishment!  Now really smack your little butt!" she
ordered.  Chad tried again, smacking his butt harder.  That
stung!  Mrs. Amahl nodded her approval, as the class began
laughing at the sight of Chad smacking his own bare butt. 
Chad smacked his own butt several times again, trying to
spread the spanks out to reduce the sting, but finding
himself quickly becoming sensitive anyway.  Mrs. Amahl made
him continue until he'd given himself 15 double handed
spanks.  His face was flushed and he was breathing hard as
she stopped him.  A quick glance at his flanks revealed his
bottom was indeed a blushing pink color.

Mrs. Amahl wasted no time handing him the first paddle, a
simple flexible plastic affair with a wooden handle.  "Roll
the dice," she ordered.  Chad started to turn his head to
see the outcome, but she quickly snapped, "No looking at the
dice – face forward!  You may look no farther behind you
than your own bottom!"

"Eight," one of the girls announced.

"Give yourself 8 hard swats, and remember that if any aren't
hard enough, you have to do them again!  Start now," Mrs.
Amahl said.

Chad twisted to the right so that he could see the right
side of his butt, then lined the paddle up in the center of
it.  He brought the paddle back, bit his lip, and snapped it
down.  The sting was surprising, as bad as if he'd been
paddled by Mrs. Rose.  "That was good enough, but only
barely," Mrs. Amahl said.  "Make the next one harder!"

Chad lifted the paddle and moved it to a lower spot, then
smacked his right bun in the center.  This time he
overcompensated, causing a loud "whap" to echo as his butt
stung in protest.  "Good," Mrs. Amahl said.  "Finish your
other 6."

Chad found it more and more difficult to hit his butt on the
right side with each of the two following spanks – the sting
was starting to build painfully.  He then shifted the paddle
to his left hand, giving his left bun 4 matching spanks and
making it just as hot.  Mrs. Amahl approved of his work and
handed him the next paddle, a polished heavy wooden affair. 
The dice were thrown, a seven coming up this time, and Chad
lined the paddle up on his right bun, holding his breath and
gritting his teeth.  The first spank hit the side of his
right bun, smarting something fierce.  Chad shifted his next
2 blows further over, then switched hands.  It took him 10
deep breaths to calm himself enough to smack his left bun
three good blows, and he was letting out little gasps with
each blow now as the sting flooded him.  He paused, then
swung at the upper center of his butt which was untouched
and he hoped wouldn't hurt quite so much to strike.  It
hurt, but Mrs. Amahl was not happy with his 7th swat in the
middle of his buns, forcing him to hit himself there twice
more in succession to compensate, the last one bringing an
audible yelp from Chad as the paddle struck, and he dropped
his hand and stood there shivering and panting until Mrs.
Amahl got his attention and he handed the paddle back.

The paddling continued with paddle after paddle.  By the
third paddle Chad had started shaking and whimpering as he
forced himself to make hard enough swings to satisfy Mrs.
Amahl, and each blow took him several deep breaths to settle
enough to give himself the next one.  Twice he wailed in
despair when his swings were not considered sufficient and
he had to apply two more with that paddle in the same spot. 
Tears were flowing freely down his face as he doggedly took
the fifth paddle, this one like a ping-pong paddle with a
knobby surface.  Each stroke of that one made him cry out
and squeeze his butt tightly for at least 10 seconds, but he
made it through the mere 5 swats the dice had decreed.  He
began to cry softly, then more fiercely as he gave himself 8
blows with the next paddle, a wooden hairbrush with a flat
oval back.

The following paddles got harder and harder to swat himself
with as the paddles themselves got nastier and nastier.  He
had to repeat a number of swats, but fortunately for him the
dice rolls stayed under 9.  He was crying freely now,
letting himself moan or cry out each time he struck his own
butt, waiting until the pain subsided a bit before doing it
again, trying to find a spot on his butt that didn't hurt
quite as much as the others for his next target.

The 8th paddle was a long, narrow thing with 4 holes in the
business end.  "Base of the butt with this one," Mrs. Amahl
ordered the crying Chad.  "How many swats, girls?"

"Twelve," the girls responded gleefully.  Chad looked at the
dice table – both sixes were indeed on top.

"Make that 14 for looking at the dice," Mrs. Amahl said. 
"You were warned!"

Giving himself 14 swats with that nasty thing was the
hardest thing Chad had been forced to do all day.  His hand
trembled and wavered, and he yelped and jumped with each
swat, bawling freely in between.  But he managed all 14
without having to repeat any of them, although it took him
more than 2 minutes.

Chad was bawling more loudly now, snot flowing from his nose
and puddling above his lip.  Mrs. Amahl handed him the
Stinger.  "You've seen this one in action before, I think,"
she commented.  "Bend forward half way to apply it, and make
sure it goes into your bottom crack or you do it again!""

The roll of the dice was only 4 this time.  Chad leaned
forward on Mrs. Amahl, clutching her arm with his left hand
and bending until his butt was partially spread.  His butt
crack felt extremely vulnerable as he held the Stinger high
over his butt from above his back.  He snapped his hand
down, immediately lurching into Mrs. Amahl, unable to catch
his breath at the moment with the sting of it. 
"Yeooooooooow!" he wailed, squeezing his buns tightly.  The
four new welts stung horribly, disconcertingly close to his
pursed anus.  "Ooow!  Ooow!"  After a half a minute, Mrs.
Amalh shoved him back into position.  He didn't want to do
it again, but he had to.  Shutting his eyes, he determined
to give himself all three remaining swings in quick
succession, hoping he'd be able to finish before the pain of
it overwhelmed him.   He flailed away at his butt crack
three times in quick succession, then dropped the Stinger
and straighted up, arching his back, clutching both buns.  
Chad jumped, howled, and danced around the floor.  His
strategy had literally come back to bite him, as on the
final, least well controlled blow, he had managed to nail
himself right on the butt hole with not just one, but two of
the strings!

Mrs. Amahl stood watching him, tapping her foot impatiently,
then finally spoke.  "You're down two the two straps and the
switch, young man, but you only have 5 minutes left.  I
suggest you pick up the pace."

Reducing the volume of his howling marginally, Chad managed
to let go of his butt and turn his back to the class, still
bobbing up and down, and accept the straight, single tailed
strap.  "You'll apply this to the centers of each of your
buttocks," Mrs. Amahl commanded.  Again Chad lucked out and
the girls rolled only a 4.  Chad tried to steady himself on
his jelly legs, reaching around and lining the strap end up
with the center of his right bun.  He lifted it up, still
bawling, and brought it down sharply.  There was an odd
hissing of the air, and then his right buttock blazed with
new, indescribable pain as a streak of fire crossed his
already sore skin.  Chad shrieked and danced around the
room, heedless of his comically bouncing genitals, trying to
shake the stripe of pain away.  After a minute, he realized
time was passing, and moved more or less back into position,
giving himself two quick blows on the left side.  This time
he screamed at the resulting pain, but while still
screaming, leaned to the right and struck his right buttock
one more time, finishing his series with the strap.

Mrs. Amahl looked at him approvingly as he danced and
whooped, the dropped strap forgotten.  She gave him a minute
to calm down, then spoke loudly over his antics.

"Although this young man behaved abominably on Friday, today
he has shown his acceptance of his responsibility by
displaying great courage in his punishment, courage you
bigger boys could learn something from.  Because of his
courage, I believe we should skip the two-tailed strap, and
allow him to conclude with the willow switch.  Do any of you
girls object to that?" Mrs. Amahl asked, in a voice tone
that suggested she didn't want to hear an objection.  Not
waiting, she took the willow switch and forced Chad to take
it in his hand.  He continued to bob and squeal, his
genitals flopping as he twisted and wiggled.

Blubbering, Chad eventually took the switch and forced
himself to hold still.  This one's almost over, he thought
to himself.  Ride with it, he repeated over and over in his
head.  His butt was a mass of indescribable pain.  Ride with
it, ride with it, ride with it, he kept repeating.  He
couldn't stop bawling, but his brain was clinging to that
one phrase.  The girls with the dice tossed them a final
time "Two," they shouted over his noise.

"T- t- te- te- te- tennnnnnnnnnn!" Chad wailed out. 
"I'MMMMM GIVIN' MYSELF TENNNNNNN!" he proclaimed.  He began
flailing at his butt with the switch, spreading the stripes
all over, even letting the switch travel down his crack
twice, leaving a line that ran down the center of his ball
sack.  Pain was his only hold on reality.  Mrs. Amahl
stepped forward.  "That's enough, young man," she
proclaimed, yanking the switch from his hand before he
struck his seventh blow.  "You've been punished enough by
this class!"  Chad stood hunched over, his body trembling
all over, his butt welted and raw, squalling with every
breath.

Mrs. Amahl was impressed.  You had to admire a boy who
recognized the inevitable and accepted it.  She made a
decision to diminish the aftereffects of his paddling.

"Nadir, Jesse, Lowell!  One of you get the janitor's tub
from the hall closet.  You other two get a bucket of ice and
a bucket of water from the lunchroom kitchen.  And make it
quick or you're next in line!" she ordered.

Chad, oblivious to the action, was hunched over, his hands
supporting his body against his knees.  Ride with it, ride
with it, ride with it, his mind repeated, as the waves of
pain threatened to roll over him.  Yell as much as you want,
let it come out, he reminded himself, not trying to be brave
and crying freely.  He wasn't even aware of the action in
the room until Mrs. Amahl scooped him up like a toddler and
deposited him, butt down, into a tub full of ice water. 
"Yeeeeeeeoooooooooouuuuup!" Chad squalled as the icy water
made every tortured nerve in his butt stand on end and do
jumping jacks.  "Yeeeeeeow!  Yeeeeeeeeow!"

After several minutes of whooping, blessed numbness
diminished Chad's suffering, and he was able to settle down
and dampen his crying.  Eventually Chad's butt became
somewhat numbed, the pain receding enough that he could
stand.  The 8th grade got an enormous kick out of his
completely missing genitals, but then the lunch bell rang
and the class lined up quickly and left.  Chad was taken to
the nurses' office for a quick examination, where he was
stretched out on the exam table with a pillow under his
stomach to raise his sore genitals from the table as the
nurse surveyed his buttock damage.

"This shows excellent punishment technique," Mrs. Martinez,
the nurse, said, waving a hand over Chad's butt.  "You'll
notice he's painfully bruised and the skin irritated, but
there are no breaks anywhere, not even where the switch hit
his anus."

"I did it," Chad whispered.  "I actually did it myself." 
His butt ached continuously and screamed with pain when he
tried to move.  The nurse rubbed antiseptic ointment on
Chad's posterior while he whimpered, then stood him up so
she could meticulously examine his penis.  It also was
coated with ointment, then he was placed back on the table
with the pillow cushioning him and told he could rest until
the afternoon punishments began.

"Conserve you strength, young man," Mrs. Hendricks added,
going to lunch herself.  "You're going to need it." Chad and
his mother were left alone in the room, his mother stroking
his hair while she washed his face with a cold cloth.

"I'm proud of you so far," she said to him.  "You've
accepted your punishments as if you're finally getting the
message.

"It hurts," Chad muttered.  "But I know I need it, so I'm
holding it close to me and not fighting it.  But it still
hurts."  He shifted position and moaned as his butt muscles
complained.  He tried to hold still.  Some minutes passed,
then he stirred again.  "They're going to do my poo hole and
my balls this afternoon, aren't they?"

His mother nodded.  "I guess there's no point in me making
it a secret – the pattern is pretty obvious – they started
with the easier punishments, and they're moving to harder
and harder stuff as we go.  The worst thing is last."

"I don't want to know what it is," Chad said.  "I mean, I do
want to know, but it'll be better if I don't.  I just want
to ride it as I go along."

"Good," his mother said.  "It's best if you don't know.  But
I'll give you something to hold onto.  After the school bell
rings, the punishments are over.  You'll have to stand in
the school yard for 20 minutes, but just for the kids to
look at, not to be punished.  Then we'll go home, and start
the healing process.  You'll have to do chores next week,
and you're going to do all your school work at home even
though you're suspended, but you won't be punished any more
after the bell rings unless you do something else."

There was a longer pause.  "I'll probably mess up again,
eventually," Chad said.  "But I promise it won't be for a
long time, and even then I won't hit or push anyone."

His mother leaned over and kissed his cheek.  "I'll hold you
to that promise," she said.  Chad cradled his head in his
arms and tried to relax.  But a voice in his head wouldn't
let him.  It was almost like a chant, and it repeated over
and over.  Butt hole and balls, butt hole and balls, next
thing up is butt hole and balls!