Tommy's Attitude Adjustment Chapter 34
by Chadlad

copyright 2007 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.
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Chapter 34:  Preliminaries

Tommy looked confused.  "What do you mean, what kind of
spanking do I want?"  For the life of him, he couldn't make
sense of the question.

"It's a simple question, even for a dork like you," Naomi
replied.  "What kind of spanking you want?"

Tommy looked even more confused.  "I don't want any
spankings," he said testily.  "They all hurt!  They hurt a
lot!"

"You know, I can't decide if you're stupid because you're a
boy, or if you're just a particularly stupid boy," Naomi
said.  "Or maybe you're just being difficult.  How many
different kinds of spankings have you gotten in your life?"

Tommy flushed, embarrassed.  He didn't want to talk about
getting his butt spanked.  He tried looking at the floor. 
Naomi reached over and firmly raised his chin, so he was
looking her in the eye.  "I asked you a question, little
boy, and when I ask questions I expect answers. Beth told me
she spanked you bare butt yesterday, and that your younger
cousin paddled you bare butt yesterday.  So that's two kinds
of spankings right there.  Two very different kinds of
spankings.  Bare butt, bare hand spankings are a very
intimate affair.   In bare hand, bare butt spankings the
person spanking you is making body to body contact,
especially if you get it over her lap.  You were over Beth's
lap when you got spanked, weren't you?"

Tommy gave the barest of nods, flushing even further.  "So,
you've got your bare body in contact with her legs in front,
and her bare hand all over your butt in back.  You were
sandwiched between body contact.  And since you're a boy, a
pathetic little boy, I'll grant you, but still a boy, your
little dangler was probably in contact with her, too. 
Probably pressing right up against her leg where she could
feel it, and feel whether you got harder or softer while she
was spanking you.  Or maybe trapped between your body and
her leg, where she couldn't help but feel it.  And at the
same time, she's putting her hand all over your bare butt,
touching you in even your most private places.  Touching you
in places other boys never touch you even when you're
fooling around or roughhousing.  A girl becomes very
intimate with a boy when she spanks his butt.  She's
touching him in places only a lover normally touches him,
and places even some lovers never go.  Of course, her touch
is designed to bring pain, not pleasure like a lover's
would, but it's still very intimate.  Tell me something, did
she control you by taking you by the handle?  It's a natural
thing for a girl to do in an intimate situation like that."

"The handle?"  Tommy asked.

"Your dick, stupid!  That insignificant little worm that
keeps getting you into trouble!  Don't you think about
anything before asking questions?  What part of a boy's body
would make a good handle for holding him during a spanking?" 
she said disgustedly.  

"Oh," Tommy said.  "She didn't touch my -- my stuff,"  he
finished.

"Still, I bet she felt you up good before she spanked you,"
Naomi said.  "Almost everybody does that when they give a
bare butt spanking with the bare hand.  They take their hand
and rub at all over your butt, just feeling, exploring it. 
Even moms do that.  Babies are notorious for their soft
little butts, but they're like jelly underneath the surface,
too.  Young boys are different, different even than girls. 
You guys have butts that are as marvelously soft on the
surface as baby butts and the butts of young girls, but
under that softness there's this muscular hardness, like
steel underneath the soft skin.  You can't help but want to
touch them. They stay soft like that until they start
growing that disgusting hair on them."  She looked at Tommy
sharply.  "You don't have any of that disgusting hair on
your ass, do you?" she asked.  "We can't have that spoiling
the view."

Tommy was thinking about Beth gently rubbing his bottom
before his spanking yesterday.  About her rubbing lotion
slowly into it, supposedly to soften it, but also allowing
her fingers to roam his butt at will before spanking him,
for what had seemed even then like a long time.  "What?" he
said.  

"I said, do you have hair on your ass, like around your hole
or between your legs?  Because I can't have that – it spoils
the view.  I know you don't have any pubes – I asked Beth,
and she said you had a little fuzz, but she shaved it off,"
Naomi reported.

A little fuzz?  He thought he'd had a pretty good crop of
hair before they'd just casually taken the razor to him and
stripped him of his masculine pride.  "I don't know," he
said.  "I don't think so."

"Well, don't worry – you couldn't have many," she said. 
"Not as immature as your body is.  If I find a hair there,
I'll just pull it out," she added.  "It only stings a
minute."  She thought a minute, apparently trying to recall
what she'd been saying.  "Oh, right," she said after a
minute – "I was explaining that being punished involves a
certain intimacy between the punisher and the naughty boy. 
Here's another example.  I bet, before she laid a hand on
your butt, Beth checked out your most private place, didn't
she?"

"What?"  Tommy said, stalling.  He was pretty sure he knew
what she meant – there was only one place on a boy's body
that was almost always hidden and no one saw.

"What's the matter with you, little boy?  Are you stupid, or
hard of hearing?"  Naomi said impatiently.  "Or are you just
being obstinate?  Don't push me, boy – you'll regret it. 
So, did she look at your most private place?  The one place
people never see?  The place that can't be seen even when
you're butt naked!  Your shit hole, moron!  Did she look at
it?  Maybe spread your cheeks wide so that everyone else
could see it, too?  Probably make an excuse like she had to
make sure you're clean?"  

Tommy's face became a bright scarlet.  He tried to look
down, but she was still holding his chin firmly.  "Yeah," he
admitted.  "She always did that with Chad, too," he added. 
So did I, he thought to himself.  I always looked at Chad's
butt hole, too.  So what does that make me?

"See, now that's intimacy!"  Naomi said triumphantly.  "How
many people ever see a boy's shit hole?  His mother when
he's little and she has to wipe his butt.  And she loves
that, don't think she doesn't – she's got an intimacy with
her little man no one else has.  His doctor, if his doctor
is thorough as he should be.  But a lot of doctors don't
look at it, in part because they don't want to signal that
level of intimacy – they're afraid of what people will
think.  And who sees it besides them?  Maybe a friend or two
if you're little, and playing 'show me yours and I'll show
you mine,' but that's it.  And most people don't even want
to see it – they don't want that kind of relationship with
you.  Even if you're butt naked, your shit hole doesn't
show, even though your butt and your little dangler, and all
your other private parts do.  But a lot of times when a girl
or a woman is spanking a boy, she'll spread his butt and
give the old shitter a good looking over!  A lot of times,
they will make excuses, like saying that since they're
touching you with their bare hand down there, they wanna
make sure that they don't get your shit on them.  But they
really just do it because they want to look at your hole,
and they want the feeling of intimacy they get knowing that
they're looking at it and you know they're looking at it,
too."

Tommy, unable to move his head, shifted his eyes to look at
the floor.  Naomi continued talking.  "Now let's move on to
the next spanking you got.  That would be getting paddled by
the cousin you violated, right?"

"Dakota spanked me first," Tommy blurted out without
thinking.  The moment he said it he realized he should have
kept his mouth shut.

"And Dakota would be?"  Naomi asked.

"My other cousin," Tommy said in a low voice.  "Gabriel's
sister."

"An angry older sister to your victim?"  Naomi asked.  Tommy
nodded.  "And did she spank you the same way that Beth
spanked you?"  Naomi asked.  "Or did she do something
different?"

"The same, I guess," Tommy said reluctantly.  "But she
didn't take me over her lap, she sat on my back and spanked
me from there.  She used both hands."

"Not quite so intimate," Naomi said.  "Obviously angrier
than your sister.  Focused more on causing you pain, less on
dominating and humiliating.  Did she look at your shitter,
too?"

Tommy thought about the events of yesterday morning.  "No,
she didn't really inspect me.  But she spread my butt at the
end, and gave me the last ones right on my butt-h – um,
right inside there."

"See, not as sexually motivated as your sister.  Mainly
wanting to cause pain.  Obviously very possessive of her
younger brother, begrudging you the liberties you took with
him.  Liberties maybe she thought she should have.  You
invaded her brother's hole and caused him pain, she invades
yours to inflict pain herself.  It's classic."  Naomi let go
of his chin.  "So let's talk about the paddling you got from
the cousin you invaded.  What was that like?"

"It hurt," Tommy said, muttering at the floor.

"Of course it hurt, doofus!  Even the lightest of paddlings
hurts on the bare butt.  But how did you get it?  Did he
make you grab the back of a chair, or bend you over a table,
or what?"  She stared at him earnestly.

"I had to go over his lap," Tommy muttered.  "And they had
my hands tied, so I couldn't get away."

"Not your feet?"  Naomi asked.  "How did you keep from
kicking yourself off his lap?"

"He had my- my stuff," Tommy muttered, blushing beet red.  

"Did he just have your dangler, or did he have your stones,
too?  Or did he have the stones alone?"  Naomi asked,
angling her head at him.

"Just them," Tommy admitted.  "He didn't have my dic—my
other thing at all."

"See, this is a different kind of spanking, more like the
one his older sister gave you than like the one Beth gave
you.  He's paddling you, he's not touching your butt with
his bare hand – doesn't want to.   And although he's got you
by the genitals, which is very intimate indeed for another
boy, he's careful not to touch your dangler, which would be
homoerotic in nature.  No, he's got just your stones, and
he's not comforting, he's squeezing.  Squeezing, even though
he's a boy himself and knows how much that hurts!  He just
wants to dominate you, wants to get back the manliness you
stole from him when you took him from behind.  I bet he
never touched your butt with his bare hand at all, or if he
did, he waited until after the paddling and then only
touched it to rub in the pain.  He probably didn't look at
your shitter at all.  He didn't want to be intimate, he
wanted to dominate you.  And apparently he did." She paused
a moment. "So what other spankings have you had in the
past?"  She asked.

"None," Tommy said.  "I'd never been spanked before
yesterday."  "Really?"  Naomi said.  "So Beth got herself a
virgin, huh?  Sweet."  Tommy didn't answer.  Naomi continued
making her point.  "So we've established your cousin was out
to dominate you, and thus I'm pretty sure the paddling he
gave you hurt as much as he could make it hurt.  He must
have, because it takes a lot of butt-beating to break a
ping-pong paddle – they're pretty strong.  I know – I was a
very ill-behaved girl indeed, and I got lots of bare-butt
time from paddles like that. My father was very fond of
paddling me – very fond indeed.  He liked hand spankings,
too.  Always naked.  Me, not him.  Good thing it wasn't him
-- he was hairy and overweight and disgusting."

She took a deep breath.  Tommy pictured a hairy fat man
wearing a sleeveless t-shirt soaked in sweat and giving off
powerful body odor and was immediately repulsed by the
image.    Naomi continued her story.  "But the hand
spankings were different affairs than the paddlings, just
like yours was.  When he paddled me, he wanted to dominate
me, wanted to break me.  He never took me over his lap then,
either. When he spanked me, you could tell he wanted to be
intimate, gloried in the fact he could put his hands were no
other male could put his hands, and he always took me over
his lap, then – pushed me up close to him so I could feel
his hard dork against me as he did it.  Any person who
paddles you bare butt instead of spanking you intends for it
to cause pain, great masses of it."

"Truthfully," she added,  "anyone 10 or older, girl or boy,
can cause sufficient pain in a boy's bare bottom by spanking
him alone if she spanks hard, fast, and long enough.  She
needn't paddle him to make her point.  Hands are tough and
exposed, and can take a lot of abuse.  Butts are soft,
protected, sensitive skin. When a person disciplining a boy
does opt for paddling, their goal is to completely break
him, not just hurt him.  A paddling like that, continuing
until the paddle broke over your butt?  I bet you can't
think about it without shuddering.  The memory will cow you
for months, maybe years.  It was probably several minutes of
living hell for you to lie over your cousin's lap while he
beat your butt with that thing.  And now that you've felt
it, you're even more afraid of it happening again.  Yet you
know it could, any time.  Because you're a boy, a pathetic,
defenseless boy.   You're completely dependent upon the
dominant females in your life.  Think about it – arms tied
so you're helpless, having to lie face down, butt up, lower
half bared, your stones gripped firmly?  The position your
spanker uses says, 'I'm dominant over you, completely and
totally – you have to submit.'  Forcing you to undress, bare
your privates even before the spanking, that says 'you're
just a little boy whose privacy doesn't matter at all, who
doesn't have anything worth keeping hidden.'  The paddle
says, 'I want to hurt you, make you cry and humiliate you,
make your body pay for who you are.'   And the grip on your
stones?  That says, 'you're beneath me in every way.  I
dominate over you.  I can bring you instant pain of the most
humiliating type any time I want to.'  And if the spanker's
a boy, it says, 'I know what humiliates and cows a boy, I
know how important these are to you and how much they can
hurt if I choose.  And you know it, too, but you have to
open yourself up to me anyway, even though I could crush
them if I want.'  It's the ultimate in a male power play –
you're threatening your rival's possibility of producing
offspring.  The only more dominant move would be to cut them
off, and the only more powerful move than that would be to
kill him."

She paused, letting that sink in.  "I bet when you were butt
naked over your younger cousin's lap about to be paddled and
being held by your stones, you realized at that moment that
you were nobody --  nothing but a helpless, sad little boy
who's been made all too aware of his extreme physical
vulnerability.  Because your pain, your butt, the fate of
your little balls and the offspring you might have some day,
all those were in another boy's hands – an angry boy who
wanted revenge.  And bad as that was, you know that to have
those things in an angry females hands would be worse. 
Because it's females who truly have the power over you. 
Your mother and sister totally control your life right now,
and some day, if you want to have sex, that is, some other
female will control you with that desire then, make you
dance a jig and like it.  Either that, or you'll be confined
to satisfying yourself with Whitey Palm and his five friends
or your best buddy's mouth and shitter the rest of your
life."  She paused, considering Tommy.  "But given your
actions this weekend, maybe you'd like that," she added.

Naomi paused, pursed her lips.  Tommy no longer was meeting
her gaze, having shifted to looking at the ground as he
relived the shame of his punishment of the day before, and
his fears that it would never stop, that his balls would be
crushed, that he'd get another paddling like it or worse. 
Naomi laced her fingers in his hair and pushed his head
back, so he was looking at her again.  "You need to
understand something, little boy.  There are spankings, and
then there are spankings.  You experienced two slightly
different kinds yesterday.  The intimate kind, designed to
hurt, sure, but also to send the message that your entire
body is hers, that she can touch any part of it at will.  A
spanking designed to be short, intense, unbearable, and
memorable. As a girl and even a budding young woman, I got a
lot of those, and I know what they're like.  Because, as I
said, my Dad liked to spank me.  He liked to do other
things, too – he liked to undress me and look at my private
parts, and he liked to touch me before and after I got
spanked.  He was like all males – focused on his pleasure. 
And because of that, he was full of shame, too, just like
you, even though he didn't admit it.  That's why he had to
dominate me, had to own me.  His intimate spankings said
that – the bare hand ones, the ones where he felt me all
over, first.  The kind of spanking that says, 'you belong to
me.' Those were bad, and I didn't like them, but they're
just one kind of spanking."

She lifted Tommy's head higher, pulling his hair, forcing
him to look at her.  "You probably think the sort of
spanking your cousin gave you, the kind that focuses on just
making you hurt and beating your butt is the worst it could
be, don't you?  Well, you're wrong.  There's another level
of spanking entirely – way beyond that. My father used to
give me those, too, but only about once a year.  He'd take
me to the basement for those.  Oh, they started with
intimacy, with dominance too.   He'd order me to strip naked
and stand in front of him.  Not just my pants off then, no –
everything off, even socks and hair ribbons and even what
little jewelry I had.  Then he'd slowly, deliberately feel
me all over, run his hands over every part of my body
rubbing, kneading, feeling even my most private parts.  I
had to stand there and take it, no matter where his hands
went, what he touched.  Then he'd suddenly push me toward
the sawhorse he kept there just for my punishments.  He'd
make me stand by one end and he'd tie my legs to the bottoms
of the legs on that side –he had a whole collection of  big
Velcro strips he used.  The sawhorse was the biggest I've
ever seen, and the legs were widespread at the bottom, so my
legs would be spread wide, too.  It had a flat top that he'd
padded with some old mattress foam and duct tape, so he
wouldn't have to worry if I was tied on it for a long time. 
He'd make me bend forward until I was face down on the top,
then he'd pull my arms down the legs of the far side and tie
them there.  He'd then put straps all up and down my body
until I could barely move at all."

Tommy, following the story, realized this was a structure
very much like the horse that his and Chad's school had
purchased to use in punishing boys – the horse that poor
Jimmy Chen had gotten intimately acquainted with  during his
whipping several weeks ago, and that had been used on an 8th
grader receiving a strapping in just the last week.  Tommy
could vividly picture the image of that boy in the lunchroom
last week, still tied to the horse after his strapping,
positioned so that his raw, striped butt faced the children
sitting at the lunch tables. The boy who had been strapped
had been well into puberty, but the eighth-grade teacher had
apparently shaved his entire underpants region before
strapping him, so no hair was visible on him, despite the
advanced state of his genital development. Tommy mentally
shuddered as he remembered the sight of the boy's quite
large and well developed balls trapped between his groin and
the lump on the end of the horse that had been put there by
the designers precisely for the purpose of ensuring that the
boy's entire weight remained on his sack at all times, no
matter which way he squirmed.  And squirm the boy had done,
too. All during lunch he had shifted his butt continuously,
flattening first one of his nuts and then the other against
the hard plastic lump.  Although he did not cry audibly like
the smaller and younger Jimmy Chen had, his distress was
clear.  The livid red welts crisscrossing his muscular
adolescent butt were also striking, and had certainly struck
fear in the hearts of all the boys in the lunchroom.  He
tried to picture a younger version of Naomi -- Naomi at
roughly Chandra's age, naked and tied down to a thing like
that.  Her genitals would be clearly visible from behind, he
realized – her genitals would be visible and spread open,
maybe even so that her girl hole was visible.  And her butt
hole would be spread open, too, both secret places winking
back at anyone standing behind her.  The image was strangely
compelling to him and his penis lurched in his pants.  Ha!
he thought to himself.  They can't say I'm gay -- look how I
react to girls!  He started to move a hand over to readjust
himself as boys unconsciously do, then froze as a sudden
realization struck him.  He hadn't been thinking about her
girl parts of all when his penis had stiffened!  He'd been
thinking about her butt hole, picturing it in her widely
spread butt and fantasizing entering her from behind!  In
fact, he realized in that image, that her genitals weren't
even prominent, were really just a blur of bulges.  The
image sharpened in his mind's eye, became a boy's sack
bulging back between the spread legs.  The butt he was
picturing was not a rounded, feminine butt either --  it was
a tight, muscular butt -- a butt that looked very much like
Jesse's.  He let his hand drop to his side again, and tried
to drive the image out of his head.

Naomi was continuing with her story.  "After he'd tied me
down, he'd slow down and take his time about the rest of the
process.  He had a lotion of some kind in a big tin he kept
down there, some sort of udder lotion for cows, and he'd
make a big production of opening the tin and sitting it on
my back and taking globs out and spreading them on my bottom
and my genitals, working the lotion in slowly, rubbing his
hands everywhere, even places a father's hands should never
be.  He'd talk while he did it, because he knew that made me
more scared.  He'd say, "We got to get your sweet little
bottom nice and soft, girl.  We don't want it marking too
fast when your education starts."  She shook her head.  "He
always called these special sessions 'my education.'  I
guess calling them butt beating sessions was too graphic for
him.  Anyway, he'd go over everywhere several times, working
the lotion in.  Then he'd concentrate on getting his fingers
into places."

She looked at Tommy meaningfully.  "In – into places?" Tommy
croaked.

"Into places," Naomi said flatly.  "Into my holes.  Both of
them.  He'd start with my rear hole, working lotion around
it in a circle, working in, always in, pushing harder and
harder on the center, making lotion slip in, until finally
his fingertip would slip in, too.  Then he'd work it around
my hole, teasing it, spreading it, until he could get two
fingers in.  Then he'd work on pushing them in deeper, until
he'd have two buried in me to the hilt, wiggling around and
stirring up my insides.  Then he'd just pull them out and go
to work on my other hole the same way.  You know which one –
you're not totally naοve, and you did just take a good look
at the pictures of my sisters..  You know what I mean, and
I'm sure you know what it's for, and what you'd like to do
with it, not like that's ever going to happen.  Anyway, he'd
work on it until it would take two of his fingers all the
way in, too.  He'd mutter the whole time, stuff like,
'that's it, you little whore – let Daddy grease you up
good.'"  

Tommy could picture the scene – the unkempt, overweight
father bending over his daughter's lewdly displayed
privates, invading her against her will.  Had Gabriel viewed
him in the way she viewed her father when he'd trapped
Gabriel's body under him, covered his mouth, and threatened
to crush his balls if he didn't take Tommy inside him?  Had
Gabriel felt trapped and violated like that when he'd felt
Tommy's dick probing at his anus, pushing and pushing until
it forced its way inside? Was he really any different than
Naomi's pig of a father?

Naomi was in her own world now, not even seeing Tommy's face
and holding his head less firmly.  "Then he'd put the tin
down on the floor.  I hated it when I'd hear the metallic
clink of the tin on the cement.  Because it meant the
spanking was going to start, and then after it would come
the paddling.  He'd get around to my left side, first, and
put his left hand in the small of my back, pushing down,
while he'd cup my butt with his right and squeeze gently. 
'I'm startin' your education, now, whore girl,' he'd say. 
'Pay attention this time.'  Then his hand would go up, way
out, and he'd he'd hold it there for awhile, just building
the tension fear.  And without warning, he'd bring it down,
hard.  He'd let several seconds go by before he'd lift the
hand again.  Just stand there with his hand on my ass,
feeling my muscles jerk and tense from the sting, feeling
the heat build where he'd hit me, and the little shivers
that always come when your butt gets smacked.  Then he'd
raise his hand and wait, and then suddenly smack me again,
sometimes in the same spot, sometimes a different one.  He'd
do that for at least 10 minutes, it had to be.  He'd only
get about 50 spanks it in during that time – I counted
sometimes, because I still could count then – not like after
the paddling started.  By then I'd have reached a state of
total mindlessness, and counting was out of the question. 
And I bet you don't think 50 sounds like too bad a spanking
-- I bet Beth gave you more yesterday.  But she was giving
you the intimate spanking, where you control the pain you
cause, kind of getting a kick out of the fact that you can
hit the little boy you're spanking much harder if you wanted
to. My father was putting everything into the slaps -- some
of them were probably nearly as hard as he could hit, and
let me tell you that was hard!  Had he stopped my punishment
at that point, I would still have been bruised so badly that
walking would have been difficult for days, and sitting down
painful for longer than that. But of course it didn't stop
with that.  He merely paused, inspecting his handiwork,
grinning at my red, bruised ass like it was the greatest
thing he'd ever seen.  By then my ass was burning all over
and the muscles were throbbing deep inside, too, and of
course I was sobbing, but not loudly because he always
gagged me.  After the last spank, he'd stand with his hand
on my butt for several minutes, not moving – just savoring
his position, I guess.  Then he'd lift his hand off my butt
and slide down between my legs, until he was cupping my
genitals, lining himself up, letting me know what was coming
next."

Tommy was almost breathless listening to her story.  He
could see the callused hand in his mind, cupping the
juncture of the girl's legs, probing her most private area.

"Th- then what?" he croaked.

"Then he spanked my pussy," she said.  "Just like he'd just
done to my ass.  Slow and hard.  I couldn't move – I was
totally tied down, and he'd put all his weight on his left
hand in the small of my back.  He'd hit me at least 10 times
there, so that it was all bruised and as sore as my ass by
the time he stopped.  And while he was doing it, he would
accuse me of being a wanton slut, claim that he was doing me
a favor by making me so sore there that I wouldn't even
think of having sex.  It would seem like forever until he
finally stopped.  But then, I didn't want him to stop. 
Because I knew what was coming when he stopped."

She paused, staring into space.  A minute passed in silence. 
 Finally Tommy couldn't stand the silence.  "What was
coming?" he asked.

"The claw," she said.  "And then the real spanking.  The one
with the paddle."

"The claw?" Tommy whispered.  His heart was thudding like he
was standing in the basement with her, watching her get it.

"The claw," Naomi responded.  She let go of Tommy's hair and
held her thumb and forefinger in front of his face curved
opposite each other, then slowly closed them until they were
pressed together.  "He'd switch to the other side of me and
take down the paddle.  He'd had it specially made by a
woodworker friend of his.  It was oak, barely over two
inches wide, but 18 inches long with the handle.  Almost
three quarters of an inch thick.  I know, he told me enough
times.  Smooth on one side, 5/8" wide holes drilled partly
though the other side – 5 of them.  Covered with high gloss
varnish.  Handle wrapped with fine leather.  He'd get it
from its hook on the wall and set it on my back.  I hated
the feeling of it there – so cold, so deadly.  He'd let me
feel it there a few minutes, watching me cry without saying
anything, knowing he was building my dread.  Then he'd stick
his thumb and forefinger into the lotion tin again, and I'd
feel his left hand down there – between my buns and my legs. 
His index finger would push between my cleft, find my hole,
plunge in it all the way.  Then he'd curve the thumb, probe
my back hole, and then shove his thumb all the way into my
rectum.  All the way.  He just jammed them in this time, no
easing them in like he'd done earlier.  And then he
squeezed."

Breathless, Tommy couldn't help but respond.  "Squeezed?" he
asked.

"Squeezed.  Brought both fingers together as close as he
could inside me.  He's say he wanted to feel them touching. 
It felt like he was trying to pinch off that whole section
of me, between the two holes – just rip it off my body.  I'd
jerk and scream, just wanting mindlessly to get away.  He'd
just squeeze harder.  He'd start laughing, laugh harder and
harder, and then squeeze more tightly.  His fingers were
long, impossibly long, freakishly long.  He should have been
a piano player, or a magician.  He'd get them both in really
deep, and I always thought they would meet in the middle,
but they never did.  He'd squeeze and then pull backwards,
until I felt like I was ripping apart back there, and then
he'd pick up the paddle slowly, deliberately, and he'd play
it around my ass.  Let me feel it.  My ass was already on
fire from the spanking, my pussy was on fire, too, both of
my holes were on fire, and it felt like he was going to ripe
a chunk out from between the two.  In all the while, he'd
slowly circle my ass with the paddle – first letting me feel
the smooth surface, then letting me feel the side with the
holes.  'What's it gonna be, girly girl?' he'd always say. 
'Blisters or welts?'  He'd explained it all to me long ago,
when he'd first showed me the paddle.  How the smooth side
smacked the skin evenly, making crops of little, closely-
space blisters on your ass, but the side with the holes made
big welts – purple, bulging welts."

"Is that worse than blisters?"  Tommy asked, so caught up in
the story he'd forgotten why he was there.

"Of course," Naomi said.  "See, when the paddle lands on
your ass, the flat part forces the skin and the muscle down,
and the impact causes the sting that all spankings and
paddlings have in common.  Hit the skin hard or often
enough, layers start separating, letting little bits of
blood escape into the separation, burning like fire and
making little blisters everywhere.  The same thing happens
to your butt where the flat part of the side with holes hits
it.  But with the side with the holes, the skin and muscle
where the holes are isn't hit at all – it tried to escape
through the holes.  But the butt skin and muscle next to the
holes is being pushed by the force of the smack in the other
direction, so they tear violently at the edges of each of
the holes.  Fluid and blood flows into the tears, making a
raised circle the size of the hole – a welt.  Purple because
of the blood.  The muscle underneath does the same thing,
tearing fibers and creating the most intense, painful
burning sensation that throbs for days after the spanking. 
The welts bulge outward within minutes, so you look kind of
like an inverted Swiss cheese all over your ass."

She reached behind her with her free hand and unconsciously
began gently rubbing her butt as she continued the story, as
if reliving the days after her last paddling.  "He'd tease
me for sometimes 10 or twenty minutes with the paddle, wait
for my crying to calm down so he'd have my full attention. 
Then he'd start the paddling.  He always started with the
flat side, and he swung hard – he wanted me to be bruised
for weeks.  He'd spank slow, too – he'd wait a minute
sometimes between spanks, while the rest of my butt throbbed
and I bawled my eyes out.  All the time with the claw
pulling at my intimate parts, holding his target still for
the next one.  It actually must've been quite difficult for
him to aim the paddle sometimes, while still gripping me
like he was.  He had to lean forward to reach, and he was
always shifting back and forth  to land the paddle here or
there, pulling with the fingers he had me impaled on while
he was shifting.  Still, he always managed to cover my
entire ass with the thing, so I guess it wasn't that hard to
grip me and paddle me at the same time."

Tommy shivered.  He tried to imagine it – tried to picture
what it would be like to be tied to a sawhorse with his legs
spread and his butt bent, the overweight, unkempt man
leading over him.  He tried to picture being a girl, with
the space between his legs open and gaping, with an opening
that dived deeply into his body long enough to hold – to
completely take in a grown man's penis.  Tommy pictured the
overweight man driving his thumb up his wide open butt, and
then driving his index finger in the gash between Tommy's
legs that would be where his balls currently were had he
been a girl, holding him by that bridge of tissue and then
slowly, methodically beating his butt. The image of the claw
impaling his body was disturbing, the idea of being paddled
in such a position unimaginable..

"Half way through, he always switched to the other side of
the paddle.  You could feel each welt as it formed – a
circle of unimaginable pain and wrongness that somehow could
be felt over the mass of pain that my whole ass had become
by that point.  I'd scream into my gag, and he'd just laugh
and then squeeze the claw harder and give me another one,
create another 5 nasty welts."

She took a deep breath.  "At some point before he was done,
I always turned into a kind of mindless animal, thrashing,
screaming, trying to escape.  You know how you'll read about
some animal that was caught in a trap and chewed its leg off
to get out?  I'd have done that.  My whole universe became
pain and escaping from pain.  I don't think I had another
thought in my head.  I'd forgotten who I was, where I was,
the fact that I was naked and that he was finger-raping me
in both my holes.  I'd forget everything except pain and
escape from pain.  He overlapped the blows, you see. 
Overlapped them so that at least half the paddle always hit
me where the previous blow had hit.  You haven't experienced
pain until you've felt what it's like to have a paddle with
holes in it strike where it has struck before!  The welts
were unbelievably sensitive, and if one of the holes
overlapped a previous welt – well, I can't describe it –
it's like ramming a spike into your ass.  Only worse.  I
never actually was aware of when he stopped paddling me – by
then, my ass was such a mass of pain I didn't even notice
when he stopped, and my brain wasn't functioning above a
primal level any more-- it was just trying to flee.  At some
point it would just dawn on me that I was alone in the
basement, still tied up, and he was gone, and I wasn't being
paddled and brought to new heights of pain any more.  Not
that my ass didn't feel like it was still being paddled with
every heart beat.  Both my holes would be throbbing, too,
and the muscle between the two of them would feel like it
had been wrenched.  I'd ache inside for days -- that claw of
his was murder."

She paused.  Tommy realized she wasn't looking at him at all
– it was like he wasn't there.  She was looking at something
in her mind, something far away.  Her voice dropped to a
whisper.  "I always pissed myself.  For some reason I was
surprised at that.  As time passed and feelings besides the
throbbing pain in my ass and my holes sort of drifted to my
awareness, I'd realize that I'd pissed myself – I could feel
the cold wetness trailing down my legs, and when my vision
cleared from crying I could see the wetness on the floor
under the sawhorse.  I always was filled with shame that I'd
pissed myself.  I never remembered doing it – it always
happened when I was in my trapped animal state, but I was
ashamed, anyway.  I remember thinking that I hoped my father
hadn't noticed.  I kept thinking if he came back and saw the
puddle, saw where it had run down my leg, he'd paddle me
again."

"Of course, that was stupid.  I'd have to have done it while
I was being paddled, so he knew all about it –probably made
it better for him.  I can just see him saying to himself,
'well, I spanked the piss out of her!'"  Her eyes focused
and she fixed Tommy with a glare.  "But he never came back
after finishing paddling me.  I usually had to lie there for
hours, until he was asleep, until my mother could slip away
from him and come and untie me – help me get the circulation
back in my arms and legs, brace me as I staggered up the
stairs to fall face first on my bed.  She'd stay with me a
bit -- put ice compresses on my ass and then antibiotics on
my welts.  I'd bite the pillow while she did that, because
even after being iced my ass hurt like a mother-fucker.  The
she'd have to leave me and get back before he awoke out of
his drunken stupor.  Because she was afraid, too.  If he
woke up and wanted sex and she wasn't there, he'd have
dragged her down to the basement and done the same thing to
her he'd done to me – I know that now because she told me,
afterward, that he'd built the sawhorse for her originally –
took her down there on their wedding night and beat the crap
out of her, did it again several times afterward until she
was so afraid of him she'd do his bidding instantly.  She
had no one to turn to – she'd never gotten along with my
grandparents and she'd married him against their express
orders."

Naomi's voice became softer, her gaze more distant.  "I
usually returned to crying after she left, crying myself to
sleep and sleeping like the dead until I'd awaken suddenly
the next morning to find that he was sitting on the side my
bed, putting his hands on my exposed ass and commenting that
he hoped I'd learned something from 'my education.'  He
always timed his 'education' for summer or school breaks, so
I could stay home and heal and no one would be the wiser. I,
fool that I was, was so humiliated at being horrible enough
to deserve such punishment, kept his secret for 5 years – 5
years of bimonthly spankings and periodic ass beatings."

"What happened after 5 years?" Tommy asked, interested. 
"Why did he stop??  Because you got too old?"

"Don't make me laugh, little boy.  He liked it even better
the older I got.  I'm sure he had other plans for me when I
was older.  No, he stopped because he contracted a bad cause
of lead poisoning?"  She looked at Tommy expectantly.

"Lead poisoning?" Tommy said.  "You mean like the stuff in
pencils?"

"That's graphite," Naomi said.  "I'm talking lead.  The
metal.  It's very toxic.  At least it was to him.  Lead
killed him.  My mother put several lead bullets into his
brain, and a few more into his heart for good measure.  She
had a Glock with a nine-shot magazine, and she emptied it."

Tommy's jaw dropped.  "She shot him?"

"Nine times.  I counted them, because I was there when it
happened.  She decided he'd gone too far, and someone had to
stop him."

"So your mother shot him to protect you?"

Naomi smiled sardonically.  "I wish.  But protecting me
wasn't important enough, apparently.  She shot him to
protect my sister.  Zandra, the favored one.  Zandra, who
looked like her.  I apparently wasn't that important, but
when Zandra was 8 he decided it was time for her to get her
'education' too, and he took her to the basement.  I tried
to stop him, but he just shoved me to the floor – I hit my
head and kinda blacked out.  Next thing I know, my mother is
headed down the basement stairs with his Glock in her hand. 
He'd always kept it locked up, but she'd gotten the key
somehow – I guess he got careless.  I got up and tried to
follow her, but I was wobbly from hitting my head and had
trouble finding the basement door.  Then I had to hang onto
the railing with both hands and kind of ease down the
stairs, and I couldn't move fast at all.  I finally sat on
my ass and bumped my way down.  I almost to the bottom when
I heard the shots.  Nine of them, loud as thunder in the
basement – 4 all together, then a pause, and then 5 more.  
With my sister screaming hysterically through her gag the
whole time."  

"By the time my head stopped spinning and I could stand up
and leave the staircase, she was standing over him and there
was blood and bits of his head everywhere.  His chest was
just blown away, and so was his head.  Zandra was tied to
the horse, the poor, pathetic little thing.  I still
remember her white little ass squirming as she screamed at
Mom through the gag – screamed hysterically, incoherently. 
She told me much later that she'd been screaming to Mom not
to hurt Dad, of all things.  Of course she didn't know then
what had been about to happen to her – she didn't know until
I told her about my trips to the basement, showed her the
old scars of welts on my own ass.  I remember being pleased
that he hadn't had a chance to touch Zandra's ass before
she'd killed him, hadn't had a chance to spank her yet, let
alone introduce her to the claw, too.  I untied her and took
her upstairs, then I called the police.  Mom never left the
basement – she just stood there holding the gun and staring
at him, muttering under her breath.  I wish I could say she
said something like 'I got you, you bastard –you'll never
hurt my kids again,' but she didn't.  She was muttering the
words to 'Up, Up and Away,' by the Fifth Dimension, of all
things."

"That was several years ago," Naomi finished.  "I had just
turned 18 – yes, I let my father abuse me all the way to
adulthood and didn't stop him – I was weak then.  But I
became strong that night.  I fought for custody of my
sisters when they took Mom away, and I won.  I got a job
teaching art at Beth's school even though I didn't have a
teaching certificate, and I built up a lucrative clientele
for my style – I can sell almost everything I paint.  I make
a good living, and I take care of the two of them.  And I've
made it a point to teach my sisters not to be victims, like
me.  I'm made sure they know what boys and men are really
like underneath your innocent facades, and taught them to
recognize the superiority of femaleness."

"Anyway," she finished.  "I learned about how pathetic you
males are from him – sure, he was more powerful than me, but
I was stronger, because he never conquered me.  He could
force his fingers into my openings, but he couldn't snatch
out my soul.  And I'm made it my goal to show the whole
world how pathetic males are – expose your bluster as the
inadequacy it reflects, your violence as your fear, your
pride as your shame.  And you get to have a part of it. 
You're my archetype -- the prototypical pubescent male!  You
represent in reality what all males are underneath, small,
inadequate, unsure of yourself, and full of bluster because
of it.  And full of shame, too.  And your pictures and
sculptures will help me spread my vision to the world.  So
let's get on with this.  Are you going to take those pants
off, or am I going to pull them off of you myself? Because
of I have to pull them off of you myself, I'll take the
underpants, too, and then I'll give you a paddling that will
make the one your cousin gave you yesterday seemed like
nothing at all!"

Tommy still hesitated, deathly afraid of being paddled by
this strong young woman, but also humiliated at the prospect
of having to exhibit his body to her and be immortalized on
canvas and in clay.  Naomi advanced on him threateningly,
then stopped and regarded him with almost a smile on her
face.  "You are right, you know.  You are going to get
spanked as one of the things you'll model for me today.  And
the spanking will have to be real, not staged, so that the
muscle tone and the facial and body contortions are right. 
Boys tense their butts in a certain way when they know a
stinging spank is coming, and try to squeeze the pain out
afterward by tensing in a different way.  You have to
capture the tensing to be authentic, and that means it will
hurt more than a bit.  But that doesn't mean I can't allow
you to enjoy it to some extent at the same time.  As I said,
there are spankings and then there are spankings.  A
spanking from an older female with a strong hand and a
dislike of you is a painful thing.  So is a paddling from a
younger boy who's angry at being forcibly butt fucked and
having his hole ripped by your invading dick."  Tommy's eyes
dropped in shame again.  Did she have to keep bringing that
up – it has just been a mistake, that's all – a stupid,
headstrong mistake on his part.  He'd learned his lesson
already – why couldn't Beth and this girl and Gabriel, for
that matter, let it go?  

"Still ashamed of your dirty little escapade?  That's why
you're the perfect model for The Shame of Boyhood, because
you're full of shame right now, and you should be, you dirty
little pervert.  Raping a younger boy is almost as evil as
raping a girl.  But as I was saying, the kinds of spankings
you've received this weekend are in one category – a mixture
of pain and humiliation. Spankings like my dad gave me are
another, even worse category --.total pain, total
submission, pure hate.  And there's a third category, too. 
Consider the possibility of a spanking from a young girl, a
girl who doesn't hate you.  A girl who is spanking you
primarily because she loves the feel of her bare hand on
your intimate parts, loves the feel of dominance that she
gets from being able to make you cry, but isn't focused so
much on hurting you otherwise.  A girl with a small hand,
one who's not all that strong.  A girl whose spanks sting a
bit, sting enough for tears, but also tingle almost
pleasantly, maybe even make your hard, maybe even increase
your own excitement.  A girl who recognizes what boys are
but doesn't hate them, likes to dominate but not totally
humiliate, enjoys giving a little pain but balks at giving a
lot.  A girl who rather likes boys, is intrigued by their
boy parts, finds them rather fun in their place."

She pointed to the picture of the crying boy across the
room.  "That little guy cried when Melissa spanked him," she
said.  "You see that in the picture.  But he also came at
the end of the spanking – had a powerful, toe-curling orgasm
right then and there.  Bucked his little hips and poked her
legs with his little dick, and shuddered in ecstasy, begging
for her not to stop and to keep beating his butt by he did
his pathetic little cum.  Asked at the end of the day,
before he left, if she'd spank him again like that before he
went home..  Because it stung, but the sting so close to his
naughty little boy parts made him hard, too, and even
excited.  Being dominated by a female near his age also was
part of it – he did what all boys really want to do –
surrendered to her, like he'd done to his mother since
birth.  Had sex of a sort with her, also like he'd wanted to
do with his mother."

Naomi paused and let a minute of silence go by.  Finally she
took Tommy by the chin and raised his head again.  "I said
lose the pants.  So this is where you make your choice --
what kind of spanking do you want?  I'm not waiting any
longer for you to make up your mind." 

Tommy didn't answer.  There was nothing to say, not really. 
He could only keep moving forward like he'd done when he was
blindfolded and being led into the yard to be stripped and
punished, like he'd done when he'd had to walk to Gabriel
and drape himself voluntarily over his cousin's lap to be
paddled while the Girl Scouts looked on and hooted at his
exposed genitals.  He just looked her in the eyes, flushed
more deeply, and put a finger on each side of his shorts
waistband. After another pause, he pulled them down, leaning
over to slide them over his knees.  He let go and they made
a little puddle around his ankles.  Naomi smiled as she
straightened up.  Tommy blushed deeply and crossed his arms
nervously in front of him.  He felt small and vulnerable
standing there in just his underpants, shrinking under her
intent gaze.  To his consternation, his penis was getting
harder, making a clear and prominent tent in his white
briefs.  The girl studied him, eyeing the curves of his
butt.  She reached out and smoothed a hand over the curve
nearest her, feeling the muscle tone and making Tommy
flinch.  "Hold still," she snapped, giving the other side of
his butt a similar squeeze and then following the crack of
his butt from top to bottom with her fingers, finally
letting them trail off his thigh.  "Nicely rounded buttocks,
but muscular – very boy," she commented.  "Butt crack not to
shallow – at least you've got some meat on you.."  She
circled him, still staring at his midsection.  She reached
out and probed his flat stomach, tracing the musculature. 
"Not too masculine here, that's good, too.  Still got a bit
of baby fat."  She put a hand in the small of his back to
steady him, and then probed his navel with her index finger,
noting its depth.  "Yes, definitely still some baby fat,"
she commented.  "Probably pads the pubes a bit, too."  She
let her hand fall slowly downward.  Tommy held his breath as
she trailed her fingers across the lump in his briefs,
tracing down the sides of his penis and then sliding under
to briefly cup his balls through the cloth.  She let her
hand drop.   "A smallish package – lots of possibilities of
shame in that.  Looks promising," she added.

She stepped back and regarded him from head to toe.  "Slip
out of the shoes and socks," she said.  "And take those
silly pants the rest of the way off.  You boys look
ridiculous with your pants around your ankles."  Tommy,
still blushing, slipped his shoes off and stepped out of his
shorts, then toed off his socks and left them in a pile next
to his shoes and shorts.  He stood there with his hands at
his sides, resisting the urge to cover his package under her
fierce gaze.  His penis, which had been growing, began
visibly shrinking as she kept staring at him.  Her gaze was
disconcerting, and, knowing he was down to his last scrap of
clothing, he dreaded the command he was sure was coming
next.  But for the next few minutes she just keep studying
him, looking at first one body part, then the other.  

She slid a stool over to him suddenly.  "Sit," she ordered. 
"Lift up your right foot and prop it on your other knee." 
Tommy did so, his right knee flaring out to one side as he
rested the side of his foot against his other leg.  He was
suddenly aware of how widely this spread his legs, and how
open his genitals now were.  He glanced down, reassured that
nothing had slipped out a crotch seam.  He remembered too
well a day at the swimming pool when Jesse had been sitting
cross-legged on the side, resting, totally unaware that part
of his immature ball sack was hanging out the crotch of his
swim trunks.  Tommy had teased him mercilessly about that
for weeks.  He realized, with a shock, that this was another
example of him mistreating Jesse.  Shame washed over him ---
God, he'd been mean!  He needed to do something to make it
up to Jesse.  

Naomi, meanwhile, was studying his foot.  She reached over
and pulled the big toe out and looked between it and the
adjoining toe, studied his high arch, and probed the heel. 
"A lot of folks into boy feet," she commented, feeling the
texture of his sole at the arch.  Most of them would cream
themselves over you.  Me, I like that they're ahead of your
body in growth – it gives you that clown foot look that adds
to your ridiculousness."

Tommy looked critically at his foot.  It was rather big – he
wore size 10 shoes already, and he was always kicking things
accidentally these days, constantly stubbing his toes.  Now
that he considered it, his feet looked huge on his thinner
legs –he did look ridiculously proportioned.  "I'll get a
shot of you looking at the camera from between your feet
later," she said.  "The wide angle lens makes them look even
bigger and more ridiculous."  She let go of his foot. 
"Stand up," she ordered.  Tommy obediently stood. "And lose
the panties.  Let's see what we've got to work with!" She
picked up the stool and carried it out of sight behind him.

"What?"  Tommy said, trying to stall, hoping she'd say
something else.

A stinging blow landing on the center of the seat of Tommy's
underpants, the force of it burning all the way into his
butt crack and knocking Tommy to his knees.  Tommy yelped
and clutched his butt, arching his back as he stood on his
knees and absorbed the sudden sharp pain.  "What part of
'lose the panties' wasn't clear?  Now stand up again and
pull down your stupid panties so I can see your little boy
package!"  Naomi said, raising her strong hand again
threateningly.
  
Thoroughly cowed, butt still stinging, Tommy scrambled to
his feet, practically tearing his briefs in his haste to get
them off.  He kicked them toward the clothes pile and
straightened up, his hands hanging loosely, hesitantly at
his sides.  He felt so exposed!  Even though he'd been naked
in front of a lot of people yesterday, and most of them had
been girls, this felt new, this close scrutiny.  It was her
attitude, he realized.  The Girl Scouts, yesterday, had been
interested in his body, even excited by it.  This young
woman was contemptuous of his physique – interested only in
how it made him look ridiculous.  And her attitude was
contagious.  He felt ridiculous standing there naked in
front of her.  He felt like a four year old who'd pooped his
pants and was being changed by his mom, or being given a
hygiene check before going to school.  Like he'd felt when
his mother had made him stand with his brother naked by the
sink to be washed clean after wetting the bed, and his
sister looked on with a smirk.  His genitals, which he'd
been so proud of a few days ago, now felt ridiculous, too –
the saggy sack dangling between his legs, the soft,
mushroom-headed shaft sprouting out of his groin like
something a preschooler had attached with modeling clay. 
And soft it was, too.  Although he'd been hard a minute ago,
hard enough to make a convincing tent, his dick had suddenly
beat a retreat under her scorn, crawling into his body until
only about an inch stood out, pointing mostly forward
instead of dangling downward nicely.  He remembered how Chad
looked standing waiting for his paddling, his penis making a
flat button against his groin, the pee slit imitating the
eyes in the button.  His wasn't that small, thank God, but
he felt like it could be any minute.  He thought about how
he'd laughed at Chad's "button" and felt ashamed.

"Hmmmm, smaller than I'd thought," she said dismissively.
"And not a hair on you."

"Beth shaved me," he babbled.  "I had lots of hair, really! 
And it's usually a lot bigger – when it's hard," he finished
lamely, realizing he was making himself sound pathetic.  

"You didn't have much hair before you were shaved, anyway,"
she said.  "You couldn't have had.  You've got no stubble to
speak of at all.  And I doubt if it's that much bigger when
it's hard – I'm betting you don't even have 3 inches yet. 
But we'll worry about how you look when your little worm is
hard later on.  For now, shut up," she ordered.  

Chastened, Tommy stood as still as he could while she
circled him, studying him like a lab specimen.  She circled
behind him, reaching out to stroke his butt, now bare and
feeling very vulnerable as well.  "Nicely spanked, too," she
muttered.  "You boys should always be in that state.  It
would do you a lot of good."  She traced his still visible
blisters with her fingertips, examined the dark bruises. 
Tommy wiggled.  

"That tickles," he protested.  

"Tough.  Hold still," she replied.  She walked up to him and
bent over, staring at his genitals from about 6 inches away. 
She could feel her breath on his penis head.  She picked it
up between thumb and forefinger,  lifting it like a droopy
worm up against his stomach as she studied the underside. 
She shifted her gaze to his ball sack, then back to the
underside of his penis.  She lowered it again, pushing it
against his balls, and studied the top.  "No prominent veins
– that's a plus on you young boys," she said quietly.  "Too
bad you're cut.  You can do some pretty cool things with
surgical needles through a foreskin."  She lifted his organ
again, studying the knot of skin under the pee slit.  "Of
course," she murmured, "there are other places they work,
too."   Tommy shivered as the words she'd said penetrated. 
A vision of Chad's pierced penis came to mind and wouldn't
go away. As if to confirm it as a target, she flicked a
finger over the knot of flesh under the tip, of his penis. 
Taking it more firmly in her hand, she then put fingertips
on either side of the head and pushed, making the pee slit
separate. Tommy flinched at the sudden twinge of  pain as
she separated it a bit too far for comfort.  She ignored his
discomfort and studied the wide open hole she'd made, then
shrugged and let his phallus drop, where tried to retreat
further into his body, the pee slit pointing at her
accusingly.  "Cute," she commented.  She looked Tommy in the
eye.  "Does it curve much when it gets hard?"  

"N- n- no," Tommy stammered.  

"Good," she said.  "I like the straight ones.  Makes it look
cuter, less threatening looking than an upward curve." 
Abruptly, she turned her back.  "Clothes back on," she said
peremptorily.  "I'm going to need preliminary shots of you
fully clothed – the whole entry section has conventional
stuff like that, then as the people get farther into the
gallery we strip away your pretenses and show you as you
truly are.  They can imagine you have some dignity to start
with this way."  

She turned away and began messing with photographic
equipment  Slightly stung by her curt dismissal,  Tommy
quickly scrambled for his underpants and slipped them on,
almost falling in his haste to pull them over feet he now
viewed as definitely clown-like.  He hastily slipped his
shorts back on and snaked his shirt back over his head and
settled it.   "Leave the shoes and socks off," Naomi said as
he reached for them.  "Makes you more vulnerable."  She put
her hands on her hips and stared at his now fully clothed
body.  "I think we're ready," she said.  "I'll want sketches
and digitals both, of course.  Adds to the realism.  And we
need the girls now.  Time you suffered some major
humiliation!"


  
TAA34_Tommys_Attitude_Adjustment_Chapter_34