The Bare Bottom Spanking and Wedging of a High School Senior

The Bare Bottom Spanking and Wedging of An 18-Year-Old High School Senior with a Hard-on For Bullying 

48385 Word Count

            It's payback time for a sexually-harassed, high-school senior co-ed who partners with a male principal to discipline a male high school senior who is not only embarrassing her in public but also bullying kids on the bus with painful and demeaning wedgies.  Is a High School Senior , the police chief’s son, too old and too influential to be spanked on his bare bottom? Will the principal allow the knock-out co-ed to decide that question and to participate in his punishment?

 

            There is no mention of minors involved in sex.

             

by VacationRobert@aol.com

 

Chapter 1: Danny’s Perpetual, Unrelenting, and Raging Hard-On

 

            Several years ago I became an administrator at an average-sized, co-educational, private high school. I was assigned exclusively to the Senior Class as building principal and as disciplinarian. All of the seniors were at least eighteen years old because of the local school policy and programming that provided two years for pre-school and two years for kindergarten from the start. The well-funded, education-first philosophy of the school district held that students were tackling subjects like pre-Algebra and Algebra much too soon- before their mathematical mental processes were ready for that kind of thinking. And so, our students were anywhere from one to three years older than the typical high school student. That had both its advantages and disadvantages.

            The senior class was a school unto its own- a totally separate unit. Classes, laboratories, cafeteria, gymnasium, and even the auditorium catered to seniors only. The only time seniors had contact with underclassmen might be on the bus- but even then schedules were such that contact was rare. This autonomous senior-class facility prided itself on preparing seniors for the most exclusive colleges in the country. The tuition was equivalent of a high-ranking college but it parents considered it worth every penny if it meant a more direct path to the college of their choice.

            It was a day and age when spanking in the schools was not only allowed but even encouraged. Though rarely used at the high school level- occasionally an unruly Freshman might find himself at the end of a strap. But thrashing an upperclassman was unheard of- especially upon his or her reaching the mature age of eighteen. It was not only unthinkable; it had never been done.

            The ill-disciplined Danny Goodman, the police chief’s son, was a senior who had just turned eighteen, though he looked- and behaved- more like fifteen. The girls in elementary school and middle school had adored his blonde hair, blue eyes, short stature, and thin but athletic build. It was no different here at high school. The girls worshipped him and often chatted among themselves about whether the hair on his frontal hangings was as curly and full as the hair on his head. Do the cute dimples on his upper cheeks have a matching pair on his lower cheeks? Does he ever have any erections and, if so, what is the range of their angles and their frequency? To satisfy their curiosity they hired a boy with an insatiable appetite for food to give them the low-down on what Danny looked like in the raw.

            In return for an extra-large pizza with two toppings, the guy who shared a locker with Danny reported back to the girls some valuable, sought-after information: (1) Danny’s pubic hair could hardly be called a bush; on the other hand, it was well beyond the peach fuzz stage; (2) his bare butt looked a lot like Mark Lester’s when he stripped in front of a mirror in the movie Redneck; (3) the hair at his crotch was a deeper and darker blond than the hair on his head; (4) before gym class his bare buns were usually warm ivory; after class the same flaky croissants were assorted blotches of salmon pink and magenta red; and (5) Danny, indeed, had two creased dimples at the very base of his curved muffins- very close to his male intersection on either side; and, yes, they were a perfect match for each other.

            Les jolies petites fossettes a son visage ont soeurs jambeaux a ses fesses ivoires- was the first full sentence the Freshman girls learned that year: The cute little dimples on his face have twin sisters on his ivory buttocks. It was the kind of romantic expression that makes a girl want to switch from Spanish to French.

            Once on a language kick, virtually every co-ed (and a healthy number of gays) rushed to the language dictionaries to translate such tantalizing words as crotch. The translations of the English crotch had a certain ring to them. For example,  between their majestic legs, Danish teens have a skridt; Dutch lads have a vestakking; French garcons have an entrecuisse (the French are always so very good at this stuff); German guys have a schritt; Italians dudes are so special that they have three crotches: a basso ventre, an i-n-f-o-r-c-a-t-u-r-a, and a f-o-r-q-u-i-l-h-a  (love those subtle Italians);  Spanish amigos have an entrepiernas; and Swedish fellows have a screv (very, very suggestive). Just pronouncing the words was enough to moisten one’s own crotch. Then the girls taught the new renditions to the boys because, after all, girls have crotches too- and boys should be equally aware of theirs. Amazing what students can learn in a school library- and from one another! Let’s hear it for education: hip, hip- hurrah!

            Still, the girls waited with baited breath to hear the answer to the most important question of all: every time the locker room informant had seen Danny at the locker or in the shower- dressed or undressed- Danny had hosted a perpetual, unrelenting, and raging hard-on. As a matter of fact, it was common knowledge among the guys that Danny, as small as he was, had a pecker than wouldn’t die- to the point that he himself actually longed for relief. According to Danny, it never softened- to the point of keeping him awake all night. When asked why it didn’t turn to mush after he jerked off, he was always silent. The guy’s cavity-penetrating shaft was the envy of the locker room, not so much because of its size (well-proportioned to his body) or length (close to the typical six full inches) or thickness (a healthy five-inch crayon) but because of its longevity. The guy was never soft. He was continuously hard. There are guys who take medication to turn their spongy worm into a stiff python, but here was cock-sure Dan the Man with a taut prick that never shriveled or dwindled. The lucky stiffie! Danny’s captivating spirit stick, as described by his locker-buddy, gave new meaning to a girl being stiffed by a guy.

            Ah, but there was more! This additional and recently-released data would cost the girls a full case of soda- but worth every nickel of it. When changing or showering, Danny’s intoxicating boner always ranged from ninety degrees (pointing straight at you) to zero degrees (pointing straight at the ceiling at twelve-o-clock high )- but never downward. His packed weenie know but two delicious directions: straight at you or straight at the ceiling; down was not in its vocabulary.  Never did the concept of right angle sound so downright appealing as when Danny‘s beloved tally wagger stood perpendicular to another‘s gaping eyes and drooling mouth. It gave new meaning to the expression straight-shooter! The best locker room joke was: Be careful not to back into Danny or be painfully spiked to death. The gay guys saw it differently- be careless so as to back into Danny and be pleasantly goosed to life. One so-inclined lad dreamingly fantasized aloud that whenever Danny’s luring right-angled vertex stared directly at him in the shower, he wanted so very much to be its  hypotenuse. Well, virtually all of the female-senior population had the same genie-wish, though I suspect that becoming any one of the other two vertices or sides would have also suited them just dandily.

            This was the kind of relevant information that an adolescent girl would absolutely die for- or kill for. After ample discussion, they voted unanimously that Danny’s pubes were just right and could be classified among the short and curlies. They also concluded that it was quite normal for a boy to be hard all the time- not to mention every girl’s dream. Our nipples and clits should be that lucky! That way, when his searching needle finds what it wants and likes, it’s ready to go at a second’s notice.

            A week later they flocked to the movie theatre to see the flick Redneck to discover what Danny looked like raw-naked but only half of their pubescent drives were satisfied as teen idol Lester revealed his most endearing backside but not his frontals.

            Most of the other guys in the school- particularly Danny- were totally infatuated with Angela who, in Danny’s own words, was the hottest and most beautiful girl in the entire world. On one occasion the badly-behaved lad had announced to Angela Sweetster, in front of the whole Calculus class:

            “I could eat you alive and still be hungry for more. Just thinking of you in your snug bikini panties makes the very tip of my longing dick tingle with goose bumps. And, I won’t even mention what thinking of you out of your panties does to me.”

            She had blushed with utter embarrassment, of course, but he continued to verbally harass her.

 

Chapter 2: Heart-Throb Angela, the Stiffener and the General

 

            Angela, at eighteen, was short, petite, and absolutely beautiful- a real looker, and she knew it! A knock-out elfin was what most boys called her. An only child, she had mesmerizing and intoxicating ocean-blue eyes, long, shiny brown hair to the waist, and a stately neck that made mouths water. Her perfectly-formed, perfectly-shaped, and perfectly-proportioned breasts with their cone-shaped nipples matched her perfectly-formed, perfectly-shaped, and perfectly-proportioned buttocks. An informal vote among the boys, as to which pair dominated, ended in a dead-heat tie, the operative word being heat.

            Gifted with both impeccable poise and magnetic personality, she turned heads wherever she trod. Just passing her in the school corridor was enough to send a poor unsuspecting lad on an emergency trip to the lavatory for instant, climactic relief. Some boys unwittingly never made it on time. It was no accident that the longest bathroom sign-out sheet for boys in any classroom at any time of the school day was the classroom Angela attended. Sidewalk rumor and sidewalk humor had it that anytime there was a full-school assembly with Angela present, the custodial staff had to double up and spend the entire evening unblocking the urinals of thick, syrupy spunk. Some teachers actually disliked having Angela in class because boys most certainly would rather eye Angela than the text or blackboard.

            A story- which many acclaim as true- tells of a day when Angela heard of another Senior dissing her and saying she wasn’t anywhere nearly as attractive as other guys thought.

            The next morning, Angela sought out this blabbermouth upper-classman at his locker, casually walked over to him, tersely and unceremoniously lifted his long shirt above his neatly-buckled belt, stared droolingly at his clad but beckoning ram rod, and sighed with belabored breathing:

            “I can tell that there is something extra long and stiff afire under those dungies. You are going to make a lot of girls very happy campers- if you haven‘t already. What I would give to be in your class and sit right next to you! I can feel my silk, see-through panties just barely covering my warm crotch as they get soaked to the skin at this very moment just thinking about it. How about you? Is the very tip of your starving dinghy oozing juices right now?”

            He tried frantically to shy away from her but she clenched his shirt firmly, lifting it all the way to his waist line as a bulge began to develop in his frontal hangings.

            She then glared at the front of his pants, licking her lips.

            “Oh, you little rascal, you. I can see the outline of your maleness starting to protrude through your dungarees. It appears that your flag has suddenly leaped from half staff to full staff- or is it half mast to full mast? I don’t know the difference between staff and mast but I do recognize an engaging erection when I see one and you are sporting one hell of a boner, big guy! I would dare say that it’s beginning to throb something fierce. I predict that you have another thirty seconds before you begin soaking your clean change of underwear with thrusts of maple syrup.”

            Instead of letting his shirt drop naturally to its original position, she guided its hem from his belly button all the way down to his masculine bulge, her fingers then casually lingering and gently at the swelling in his groin. She then erotically rubbed her groin against his hard package, giving herself an enthralling stroke of stimulating clittage while granting him invigorating titillations that made his growing weenie want to sudden stand up and perform.  She then gently rubbed her lightly-covered tits with one hand and her saccharine twat with the other- and walked away with a bit of a wiggle in her well-rounded ass.

            There are several witnesses who will testify that this dude- rather shy around women- spent the rest of the morning in the bathroom, beating his raw pork into both ecstasy and submission, moaning and groaning like only an adolescent male can. The same people say he had this gigantic smile on his face at lunch- with no appetite for food.

            From that day onward, Angela assumed two additional descriptors- stiffener and general. The former applied to her incredible effect on countless peckers; the latter applied to her uncanny ability to require anything hanging between a boy’s legs to salute her in passing- at full mast or full staff.

            In a nutshell, Angela reaffirmed the Pavlov theory: her very presence in any room or hallway was sufficient stimulus for puberty-stricken boys to ravenously salivate- from both mouth and salami. Tittle-tattle has it that she could sit on a school bus next to most any male senior and, within one bus-stop ride, just by sitting next to him, send him promptly on his way home to gladly and willingly soil his sheets, pillow case, pajamas, and bathroom towel from late that afternoon well into the following morning. Extravagant as it may sound, listening to the boys talk about the effect she had on each of their ever-flapping willies made a believer of me.

            In fact, after learning in Biology Class of the G-spot, that marvelous dot of intense excitement responsible for female ejaculation, the boys voted as one to rename such a highly-esteemed gem the A-spot, not only in honor of the intense excitement and abundant ejaculations Angela aroused in them but also in the hopes that some day they might actually view and even touch her shiny cut stone. The mere thought of such a celestial experience was enough to require a lad’s hand to reach for his own marvelous spot as he fantasized about her bursting mound of tubular-tracked vagina, worshipful temple of easily-aroused clitoris, downy patch of chestnut fur, and succulent curvatures of plump, fleshy knolls just begging to be both unpityingly spanked and devoured. Aaagh! Damned the clothing that covers so valuable a collection of orgasmic commodities . Cursed be Eve for ever using a blasted leaf for so terrible a purpose as concealing such rich assets. The absolute frustration of wanting forbidden fruit so franticly and so frenziedly- banned produce so closely at hand and yet denied to the hand. Julius Caesar said: I came, I saw, I conquered! All a boy in Angela’s class could say was: I came, I came, I came- and I came some more! Silently and aloud, every adolescent’s prayer could be heard: How long, O Lord. How long!

            As for Danny, well-known for harassing Angela and equally known for getting away with it (who knew why?), he too had the same mouth-watering effect on girls that Angela had on boys. The endearing dimples at the far corner of most every facial expression initially made virtually every girl wonder- aloud and in silence- whether his upper cheeks were the only cheeks with dimples. Now that they knew, from a boys’ locker room insider, that Danny smiled with such dimples at both ends, they were even more magically drawn to him. A girl speaking with Danny would often find herself manipulating and rubbing her puffy knockers as if consciously or subconsciously inviting him to do the same.

            There was, however, a strange quirk to Danny. They say that if you can’t connect by way of intimacy, you will connect by way of aggression. However you connect, you will connect. Danny was very inadequate at the intimacy; he was very practiced at the aggression.

            And so, if Angela was the knock-out elfin, alias stiffener and general, Danny was the incredibly edible hunk- albeit an aggressive and hostile one. From the vantage point of looks, the two reigned at school as the chief protagonist and chief antagonist- continually switching roles. As a whole, the school’s social life sank or swam on how that reign played itself out, for they constituted the school’s ultimate teen crushes, though hardly such between themselves.

 

Chapter 3: Tighty Whities, Beware the Wedgie!

            Throughout Danny’s school years, innumerable younger guys frequently complained that Danny constantly bullied them. He had a perpetual hard-on for pushing kids around- especially if, in his judgment, the kid was gay- and he especially cherished any and every opportunity to inflict vicious and sadistic wedgies on weaker dorks and losers who dared to wear tighty whities instead of the cool and expensive boxer shorts that he and his fellow jocks wore. Just the thought of  handsome guys and beautiful girls having their undies wedged deeply and uncomfortably into the anxiously-waiting crevices of their ass cheeks- naturally or contrived- turned him on in a big way.

            Danny boasted a membership in a subculture of people -mostly teens- who are aroused by giving or receiving wedgies. This fixation is rooted in in sadism- the enjoyment of giving pain- and masochism- the enjoyment of receiving pain. As to Danny, however, he was terrific at dishing out the wedgies but greatly protective of himself in receiving them. Not once had I heard of him being victimized. In fact, the one time a wedgie was attempted on him, he had been highly indignant. Sadistic- yes! Masochistic- no! One day a group of girls had come very close to raiding the boys’ locker room when Danny was showering alone- with the battle cry of Wedgie him on their lips but it was all talk. Only recently has it become recognized as a legitimate fetish alongside other school pranks. The wedgie fetish includes the use of threading rope through the leg holes and hanging the victim off a hook or other high object to make the wedgie permanent and more painful.

            Virtually everyone gives and gets a wedgie or two in his or her life- and may even enjoy such- but Danny wasn’t satisfied with the fun kind of wedgies, which were certainly embarrassing enough. Rather, he went beyond the prank wedgie and inflicted the kind  that were significantly painful and humiliating.

            According to Danny, the official rules for wedgies state: (1) anyone found to be wearing tighty whities should be given a wedgie immediately; (2) anyone wearing said tighty whities can be given any type of wedgie, at any time; (3) wearing tighty whities is inexcusable and, therefore, always punishable- with no exceptions; (4) if while performing a wedgie, the underwear is ripped, the wedgier must repay the victim; (5) a wedgie is always acceptable if the victim was asking for it, i.e., when any waistband is exposed; and, (6) a wedgie is always in season if the victim’s overall demeanor is unpleasant.¹ Needless to say, if numbers one through five did not qualify a victim for pain and embarrassment, Danny was quick to invoke the number-six default of unpleasant overall demeanor- with his own definition of the term taking precedent.

            As an editorial writer, Danny had published these rules on the front page of the school newspaper under an essay entitled: Tighty Whities, Beware the Wedgie!
            Danny seldom gave a normal wedgie- a sharp yanking from the rear of the underpants- and he rarely wedgied a consenting partner. Those weren’t erotic enough for him. His victims were mostly non-consenting kids smaller than he. In fact, virtually all of his wedgies were pants-down wedgies. And, the vast majority of his pants-down wedgies were underpants down as well. Neither age nor gender mattered. He would just as soon wedge-drop a female’s panties as a male’s briefs; and, even as a high school senior, he would just as quickly wedge-drop an elementary student or middle school student as quickly as any high school student- male or female. Everybody at school had a theory of how he got away with underpantsing so many kids of so many ages- both male and female- but I never heard anyone actually say it. Also, he always chose the kind of environment where it would come across as mere play. And, in those days, society was not as aware of harassment as today’s.

            Needless to say, one of Danny’s favorite wedgies was the hanging wedgie where the underpants were hung high on a doorknob or other high place- often with the victim attached. He also prided himself on cosmic, turbo, and ripper wedgies where the pants and/or underpants are both ripped off completely. These activities were no less than acts of highly-intrusive pantsing and underpantsing in the name of wedgie-ing. He could also rattle off the names of other favorites: frontals (melvins, vedgies, and thwedgies) which squash the testicles or wedge the underwear material into the vulva causing camel toe;  the nuclear and atomic, where the briefs are stretched all the way to the forehead; and countless others which increase or alter the violence: the sky-high, flying dutchman, propeller, bondage, jock-lock, rambo, tape, gang, tied-up, deluxe, drag, belt, handcuff,  and superman wedgies. The messy wedgie, commonly practiced at camps or at sleepovers, occurs when a sticky and damp substance such as mud, whipped cream, or a banana is put down the victim’s underwear and wedgied in to maximize the mess.

            Danny had several other problems as well: including mouthing off to teachers and telling his parents where to get off- not to mention his most terrible habit of sexually harassing Angela.

 

Chapter 4: Dropping Her Snug Panties to Her Ankles in the School Cafeteria

 

            With his astonishingly good looks and rascally charm, Danny escaped many a punishment. But he finally pushed his luck when, at a full-school assembly, he brazenly raised Angela's mini-skirt well above her waistline- for an extended period of time- exposing her laced bikini panties and bare upper thighs to the entire school. He managed to get her highly-in-demand panties low enough to expose a bit of her butt crack in the back and the upper portion of her brown muff in the front. As she shrieked from the terrifying realization that she was showing hair in the front and fleshy crack in the rear, the entire assembly of mouth-gaping boys went catatonic over such an enchanting display of girl goodies, inwardly and outwardly beseeching Danny to go all the way. But, to virtually everyone’s bitter disappointment, he was unable to drop them any further. Twenty minutes before lunch, the packed auditorium of male hormones lusted for a full meal of  Angela aux Buttocks, Angela  a la Vagina, Angela a la Clitoris, and Angela a la Muff Hair. Seeing only a tempting part of her butt and basso ventre - tasting only a sample of the full feast- drove them to a madness bordering on insanity. A long, standing-room-only line at the urinals and stalls ensued as sundry males could be heard, as if in unison, ruefully moaning:

            “Just six more inches of Angela’s panties heading south toward her knees would have publicly divulged the most delightfully, puffy mound of pleasuring pussy that this school has to offer! And, just six more inches of Angela’s panties heading down toward her ankles would have openly revealed to an entire assembly an equally delicious double-mound of gratifying buttocks with the best hard-on and ejaculatory pleasure that this school has to offer.”

             With those thoughts at the forefront of their minds and puds, lads from crowded bathrooms throughout the school could be heard shrilly screaming Angela’s name as they masturbated to the very last drop of spunk lurking deeply in their emptying balls.

            Just days before, Danny had accomplished an even greater feat in the school cafeteria where, instead of lifting Angela’s dress, he boldly and successfully reached underneath, with both hands, to retrieve her scant, tight-fitting panties. He yelled Touchdown, as -in a flash- he slid her bikini silks from her loins down to her ankles and into his greedy, covetous hands. Danny was goooood- there was no doubt about it. However, his efforts to raise her dress once he had ripped off her panties were unsuccessful. The boys could only dream of what furtively lie beneath that panty-less dress and between those scrumptious legs. And, they went home to beat their unsatisfied meat in utter frustration for what could have been but wasn’t.

            Hardly a male senior had missed these provocative deeds in either setting because Danny had previously announced his intentions. Also seen enjoying the festivities were several females who hated Angela’s beauty and who were overjoyed at seeing her dissed and humiliated. In fact, one of the girls took a vivid pic which she later copied and spread throughout the school’s lockers.

            On the day Danny publicly confiscated Angela’s highly-in-demand panties in the lunch room, the pizza line was virtually empty as every male senior hungrily awaited the Special Menu du Jour: Angela’s vanilla and coral-red panties which were passed around to all of the lunch room tables- so everyone could get a quick sniff- with the stipulation that they  would be returned to Danny as a souvenir. Yeah, right!. Needless to say, those swaddling panties disappeared into the pocket of a rather blissful senior who undoubtedly nursed an uninterrupted erection for the remainder of the day.

            Nonetheless, on neither occasion had the boys been rewarded with a completely stripped Angela. Despite her skirt being raised at the assembly and her panties being dropped in the cafeteria, her full privates- both back and front- had managed to escape all boys’ ravenous eyes. In the auditorium they got a mere peak at which might have been- more frustrating to them perhaps than no peak at all. And, in the cafeteria, despite his lowering of her panties, Danny had been unable to raise her skirt for a naked show and tell. 

            There were other reports of Danny reaching into Angela’s low-cut dress and bra, squeezing her well-developed and well-proportioned boobs, and painfully tweaking her firm nipples. In addition, God alone knows how many times he squeezed her butt both over and under her garments. He was sure to finger her from the back while doing so. Why she never managed a well-aimed knee to his tender groin during any of these occasions was a mystery to everyone.

            She thought of wearing dungarees instead of dresses but she had often seen what Danny did to the dungarees and trousers of elementary and middle school kids- and some small high school kids- on the bus. Students dreaded the bus. No matter what, he always went for the rump- yelling wedgie as he would simultaneously de-pants and de-underpants frantic kids of all ages, usually ranging from eight to fifteen. He even managed to strip a few older kids- and a few his own age. There was never any sex involved but, nevertheless, it was highly intrusive, invasive, and personal. There are few things sadder than watching frightened youngsters with nasty boogers dripping from their noses, struggling to escape the clutches of a pants-and-underpants snatcher, especially after losing their lunch money to a wedgie extortionist. Bullying doesn’t get much worse.

            It didn’t matter whether they wore a belt or not. Danny could remove a kid’s buckle before the kid knew it was gone. In fact, he scared several kids into not wearing belts at all- warning them that the more difficult it was to pants and underpants them, the more forceful the wedgie would be. Anyone caught wearing a belt around his trousers would automatically get the painful frontal with its ball-crushing or vulva cutting effect. He delighted in pointing out any soiled spots in the kid’s underwear- and broadcasting it to the entire bus. Over the years, Danny had sent many kids home, balling their eyes out. The naughty little grabber ripped so much underwear off kids’ bodies that some argued the department stores should give him a commission on their undergarment sales. 

            At times, he would determinedly expose the kid’s nude ass. At other times, he would only deliver a painful and embarrassing wedgie; still, at other times, he would drape the kid over his knee and hardheartedly spank his bare ass until “red, red, red.” He often called them birthday spanks- whether it was the kid‘s birthday or not. On the bus, girls didn’t get it as often as boys but when they did, they got the exact same treatment as boys. On occasion, he would keep the kid’s highly-prized briefs, boxer shorts, or panties and send the poor youth home without any underwear. The incidents on the bus were perfect proof that, despite his rule against tighty whities, Danny did not discriminate against any underpants. Rather, he had a keen nose for all underpants- whose sole purpose was to be yanked down when the kid least expected it- especially if the youngster was cute and/or if  a boy seemed effeminate or gay.

            Danny was one of the few students who did not respect gays. The school as a whole had developed a highly positive attitude of both tolerance and acceptance of the gay community after viewing  Lasse Nielsen’s You Are Not Alone.² Anders Agenso and Peter Bjerg especially won most hearts and virtually everyone in the school found the final scene most endearing. As Angela said immediately after the movie:

            “People who are comfortable with their own sexuality can let other people be who they are; people who are uncomfortable with their own sexuality cannot let other people be who they are.”

            When another student quoted a Bible passage from St. Paul to prove homosexuals evil, Angela referred her to the Gospels where Jesus is inclusive of everyone. She insisted that the only people Jesus had trouble with were those who excluded others. Angela’s words- and her stunning body- put an end to most discrimination at the school. The movie changed lots of misconceptions; Angela put the finishing touches on tolerance and acceptance. She was proof of the power for good that a popular student can have on a community, especially when she stands up for those living on the marginal edges of prejudice, narrow-mindedness, and bigotry. For Angela, the bottom line was this:

            “When you discriminate against another person, you are saying more about who you are than who they are.”

            But Danny remained adamant about harassing anyone he suspected of being gay. And, in so doing, said more about who he was than who they were.

            Yes, indeed- Danny, the hunk was also Danny, the predator and Danny, the bully!

 

Chapter 5: An A-1 Prick, First Class Dick, and Number One Asshole

 

            What ultimately turned the school tide against Danny was a most unforgivable bus occurrence on a Senior Class field trip. This time he had stripped his own twin sister- a very kind and absolutely beautiful lass- from her waistline all the way down to her calves, publicly commenting on the fudgie stains at the back of her panties. After heartlessly spanking her bare bottom very hard, in front of her male classmates, he removed her bra and ridiculed her about there being no boobs for it to cover. Nothing could have been further from the truth because Marge had perfectly-shaped breasts. Why she never told their parents, no one knew, but she cried herself to sleep for over a week, staying out of school for the same period of time rather than face her peers, especially her so-called on looking boyfriend.

            Marge’s boyfriend, with a front-row seat and close-up view had seen everything- and I mean everything: front and back, up and down, left and right, north and south, east and west. Even the light brown, burning bush that scarcely covered her twat, he described in detail to the boys who weren’t present- but who wished they had been- and that was just about every boy at school. Instead of defending her honor, this boyfriend encouraged Danny to strip her all the way, gloating during and after the incident. Danny attempted to justify it by pointing out that he had a right to lash his younger sister- she having been born ten minutes after he.

            There was lots of debate at school about which was worse: Danny’s removal of Angela’s panties in the cafeteria or Danny’s complete stripping of his twin on the bus. A lot depends on how you view the girls’ relationship to Danny and the other boys, who and how many were present, and the location. There were good arguments on both sides of the debate. But whichever side of the issue you took, Danny developed the reputation of being an A-1 prick, a first-class dick, and a number one asshole who would somehow, someday, get his comings. He had no way of knowing how soon. If he had only known!     The school hunk was about to be halted- in his tracks.

            Finally, the shit hit the fan. Angela and her mother came storming into the building, understandably demanding that something be done. Though brand new to the building, I had seen enough mischief. This kid was way out of control. It was payback time.
            Given the complications of puberty, teens were usually exempt from spankings. No adolescent ever expected to be spanked. The very thought of being paddled was horrific to any student; it was viewed as the ultimate embarrassment. One would rather die a real death once that die a thousand deaths of having his pants and underpants dropped to his ankles, begrudgingly draped over another’s knee, experiencing his bare buttocks massaged with baby oil, and then somehow restrained to endure the most dreaded pain and embarrassment of getting his too-old-to-be-spanked tushee totally warmed, toasted, roasted, baked, broiled, deep-fried, and thrashed by hand, strap, belt, paddle, whip, switch, martinet, riding crop, tarse, hairbrush, cane, switch …  on his fully-vulnerable lower cheeks as they convert from creamy white to feminine pink to Delicious-Apple red. And then there is the absolute and total dissing of the entire body in terms of wriggling, struggling, kicking, twisting, turning, humping, screaming, yelling, hollering, shrieking, begging, pleading, imploring, bargaining, … . 

            Hundreds of ghastly thoughts go through a shuddering lad’s mind at such a despicable time!

            Did I change my underwear this morning? Do I have a wedgie up my crack, exposing part of my butt and luring the spanker to want more? Are there fudgies in the rear of my undies- or  urine stains in the front? Was I stupid enough to wear tightie whities, revealing any and all stains? Are my trousers coming down? Are my shorts or briefs coming down? Will I spazz out if I’m stripped? Does God intervene in such crises? Does my Guardian Angel give a rat’s ass that my ass is on the line? Should I repentantly admit what I did or argue mistaken identity? Does this disciplinarian take bribes? Did I wipe myself completely clean last time I used the bathroom? Am I being spanked by a male or female? Who else is watching or participating? What’s showing? Will my balls find refuge within my closely guarded legs? What if I get a hard-on? What if my erect willy has a mind of its own to shoot its load? What if this becomes the occasion for my very first orgasm? Should I try to hide my raging hard-on only to find that the spanker will paddle me harder on the outer buttocks to force me to wiggle and show my boner?     What if my anal muscle gets a mind of its own when my crack gets oiled? Should I say that I have to pee and then escape the building? Does begging for mercy help or does this dude or dudette get turned on by pleas? If it’s a female, what if I beg her to let a male do it? If my shorts or briefs get dropped, will the elastic waist band drive my stiffie over the edge? Is the door open? Locked? What if a girl walks in? You don’t support they are recording this? Is the intercom off or is the entire school getting a free-bee? Can the others kids tell you’ve been spanked by the look on your face when it is over? What if I pee my pants or my spanker’s pants? What if I find I actually enjoy this? Shall I grind my prick into the spanker’s lap or knee and get it over with? Why am I feeling this awakening in my balls just thinking about being spanked? How pink is pink and how red is red? Does this spanker believe in the color purple? Is the sweet-spot really sweet or is that an adult’s way of having fun at a kid’s expense? How long before I can sit down again? Please, God, I will give up dirty magazines until I reach adulthood if you get me out of this mess- after I have read them just one more time.

            And the list of queries, worries, and dreads is endless. 
            Some or all of these questions and concerns would cross Danny’s mind very shortly as he was about to get his very first licking ever- and, strangely enough, as a high school senior. I had  paddled many a child from ages eight through fifteen- but this lad was about to become my very first eighteen-year-older. However, as previously mentioned, both his immaturity and his appearance would make it seem more like I was disciplining a fifteen-year-older. This fact was almost certain to make the punishment a whole lot more embarrassing for him, I can assure you.

            How embarrassing? I wasn’t sure yet. A lot would depend on his attitude when I confronted him. I would play it by ear. If he knows what is good for him, he will think carefully before he responds- very carefully.

 

Chapter 6: Two Perfectly-Rounded Mounds Just Begging to Be Spanked

            Following a long and engaging telephone conversation with Danny’s Mom- who was by now at her wit’s end about his predatory behavior- I decided to discipline him in the art room where there was plenty of privacy during an off-period . Upon entering the room I noted a paper cutter left wide open. I would need to rectify that later on the way out- and chastise the student and teacher who had been so profusely careless.

            Upon Danny’s arrival, I observed that his trousers were hosting an exposed waistband that could be none other than that of white briefs, i.e., tighty whitey brief underpants.

            Talk about poetic justice!

            Thrilled that I had taken the time to read his recent editorial Tighty Whities, Beware the Wedgie! and equally pleased that I had possessed the presence of mind to bring the article with me, I reached for the latest edition of the school newspaper.

            “Anyone found to be wearing tighty whities should be given a wedgie immediately,” I read aloud from his own article.

            “Now wait just a minute!” he interrupted, in a frightened voice. “Time out!”

            “Wearing tighty whities is inexcusable and, therefore, always punishable- with no exceptions,” I continued.

            “I can explain. I have a good reason for wearing briefs this morning,” he added.

            “A wedgie is always acceptable if the victim is asking for it- for instance- when any waistband is exposed,” I further continued.

            The lad was both furious and scared.

            “Please listen to me, Sir. I have worn boxer shorts every single day of my life for the last ten years . Today, for some weird reason, my  bedroom bureau drawers had no boxers available- just a single pair of briefs- these! I was late to school already so I quickly slipped them on and headed for school,” he explained.

            “A wedgie is always in season if the victim’s overall demeanor is unpleasant,” I concluded.

            “Will you stop with the newspaper article?” he shouted.

            “In my opinion, as high school principal and disciplinarian, your overall demeanor is, indeed, very unpleasant!” I offered. “These are your rules, not mine- on the front page of the school newspaper. And you are going to live by them this very day.”

            “OK- if you are going to give me a wedgie, do it and get it over with,” he blurted defiantly. “I have better things to do with my time than to discuss underwear.”

            He turned around and offered me the waistband at the rear of his undies.

            Big mistake, Danny, I mused to myself. Big mistake!

            At this point, I  made the decision that I would treat him not as a high school senior and not even as the fifteen-year-older that he appeared to be. Rather, I would treat him as a young brat who needed the taste of an old-fashioned spanking.

            I turned him around to face me, and, reminding him that his favorite kind of wedgie was the pants-down style, I reached for his belt buckle.

            He instinctively flinched, his entire body protesting to the max!

             But before he could give me any further lip, I adamantly unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly, and opened wide the front of his blue dungarees.

            The lad went ballistics!

            “My father is the town’s chief of police” he boasted.

            “I just got through talking with your Mom over the phone. Your Dad is out of town for the full week at a Convention. Today, she is the chief and I am taking my orders from her!”

            The lad’s face dropped to the floor- as his trousers soon would.

            I perused the handiwork before me. His eyes flittered back and forth between my eyes and his crotch. He blushed deeply. Certainly he knew that his flag was at full-mast!

            What a deliciously-bulged package to behold! He was hard as a rock and there was a sticky wet spot near the top of his tighty-whities where his proud erection desperately sought to escape the confines of his undersized briefs. The enticing penis head was throbbing and twitching feverishly- begging for release from its imprisoned quarters. Another quarter of an inch and his moist crown would have been seductively winking at me. Even beneath the waist band, it was pleading to be acknowledged and serviced.  There was no doubt that distraught Danny had reached full adolescence. There was also no doubt that my straightforward unbuckling of his pants, my unflinching unzipping of his fly, and my merciless exposing of his Fruit of the Looms frontal had led him to both dread and excitement; he was experiencing both intense pleasure and marked terror- simultaneously. His face showed fright while his phallic tool showed delight- the two in bitter disagreement. He stood before me with extremely mixed feelings- though I was certain his strongest feeling was to get the hell out of this current and highly embarrassing predicament.

            There was no way out for him- and I think he began to surmise that from the way in which I licked my dry lips as I grinned broadly! My heavy breathing and glassy-eyed gawking at his mid-drift might have also given me away.  I was not about to forfeit a gift certificate to a dinner of filet mignon steaks, mashed potatoes, and gravy. I had ordered this meal and it was now being served before my very eyes on a silver platter. The main entre was piping hot, unequivocally demanding to be consumed before cooling off. He was on my dinner place and I was more than fully prepared with knife, fork, and spoon to feast on his tender, youthful, adolescent body. Surely he recognized this in my eyes, mouth, and tongue.

            I continued to ogle this Greek marble statue turned into male flesh. The miniature briefs portrayed his testicles and scrotum as well-developed and in perfect proportion to his relatively slim and wiry build. There was a light but marked growth of peach fuzz on both sides of his upper inner thighs just below the crotch and a thin bead of curly, dark-blond, pubic hair ran ever so delectably from the elastic waist band to his navel. I would wait patiently to further appreciate the exquisite beauty of his entire patch of pubic hair, most of which was now hidden by his briefs. From girl talk around the school, I knew that I would be in for a treat. This was a mid-day snack that any and all girls (and a whole lot of boys) would have paid top dollar to view- let alone touch and taste- especially among those wedgied victims who had lost their pants and underpants, as well as dignity, to Danny!
            It was obvious from his body language that Danny had never crossed anyone's knee before. He was in for a real treat- as was I!
            "Can't we do something else? I am soooo sorry! I swear I won’t bully again!” he pleaded in a terrified voice.

            “Danny, this is the most effective punishment I know for a boy of your behavior. Besides, I’m only following your rules for wedgies- without exception.”

            “I am not a boy; I am a man!”

            “Based upon your childish behavior and for the purposes of this particular discipline, you will be treated as a boy- and a rather obnoxious boy, at that. In fact, even your undies are those of a little boy, are they not?”

            I grinned and he grimaced as I slowly but deliberately lowered his trousers from his waist to his knees- exposing the remainder of his tight, white briefs and bare, white thighs. Lo and behold, the lad possessed, before my very eyes, a wedgie of the finest quality.

            He didn’t like this at all- highly indignant that he, a senior, at eighteen years of age, could find himself in such a predicament. This couldn’t be happening. But it was, indeed, happening- happily for me and disgracefully for him!

            “Wedgie!” I announced. “Weeeeeeddddddddggggggiiieeeee!”

            His entire body tensed at the word as a good part of his undies got further sucked into the anxiously-awaiting cleft of his sweaty buttocks, thereby revealing a mouth-watering portion of his ready-for-the-taking and fresh-from-the bakery buns, tasty delicacies that I’m certain he preferred to keep hidden. His tight underpants revealed the contour of two perfectly-rounded mounds just begging to be further exposed and spanked. It was definitely payback time.

 

Chapter 7: To Bare or Not to Bare the Buttocks of a Hunk, Predator, and Bully

            My original motive for this disciplinary spanking session was to grant justice to the victims of Danny's bullying- especially to Angela, but I found myself experiencing a fringe benefit- I was going to truly enjoy this. This lad wasn't too old to be spanked, after all. In fact, he was the perfect age to be spanked- and spanked thoroughly. But what about the briefs? Should they stay or should they go? And, if they go, who should decide? Danny's incredibly good looks and naughty behavior were increasingly placing his whities at high risk.
            I paused for a good sixty-seconds so that we could both anticipate what might happen next. For both of us, the silence was deafening.

            Flabbergasted, his knees shook and his lower lip trembled.

            At the same slow-motion rate that I had dropped his trousers to his knees- and then to his ankles- my rapturous hands grabbed him firmly around the waist, slowly drawing him between my open legs. He resisted- but that made it all the more enthralling.

            Placing a lad across both knees- over a full lap- produces delightfully plump, soft cheeks for belting. On the other hand, placing a lad over one knee, raises his rump high into the air. The glamorous cheeks are not as round or as soft in such a position- but the view is extraordinary. The latter of the two positions- over one knee- is especially despised by the spankee because it leaves him absolutely helpless. It also rewards the spanker with a full rear view of all that is private: sagging nut sacks, spread cheeks, and a partially-opened, enchantingly-pink anus. You can see right up the disgraced lad's donut hole, directly into his inner channel- and he knows it! I often do both positions, the first for stripping and the second for spanking, thereby getting the full benefits of both. I am, indeed, a true spankophile- a lover of pink and reddened bottoms, and all shades in between.
            Sometimes the lad's soft, partially erect, or fully erect ram rod adds to the over-the-knee (OTK) scenery. The boy can sometimes hide his petulant peter- at least at the beginning- but a few hard slaps on the outer portions of his egg shell-tinted buttocks force him to vehemently twist and turn- thereby granting the lucky disciplinarian repeated scrutiny of the lad’s flagging shaft. During spankings, each boy's unique pole will usually alternate between all three states of soft, partially-erect, and fully-erect. Generally, the penis becomes a glistening cherry-red with tinges of purple encircling the blood-gorged crown. When partially or fully erect and spouting with love juices, it is an alluring masterpiece! One need not be a female to enjoy the absolute splendor of a male erection- one’s own as well as another’s.

            I proceeded to lay Danny across my left knee while my right knee snugly pressed against his upper thighs. Immediately, my right leg trapped his lower legs. In an instant he was wholly helpless. He struggled vehemently- but to no avail. His mid-section was totally immobilized. The front-page publisher of Tighty Whities, Beware the Wedgie! was presently having his own tighty-whities wedgie published- over the principal’s knee. Now published, they were soon to be edited- in detail.
            Once a lad is over my knee with both hands touching the floor, both feet off the floor, my left arm wrapped tightly around his waist, my right foot bearing down on his ankles, my left hand incapacitating his right arm, and my left knee incapacitating his left arm- there is no turning back. The youngster is doomed for punishment. His succulent chock-a-blocks belong to me; his lower cheeks have my name written across them. Most wayward spankees know this- but they often wiggle and squirm and shout and scream and toss and turn and kick and beg and plead anyways- and to no avail. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love resistance at such a time!
            Danny’s delayed reaction presented a different story. He realized all too late that had he cooperated with me from the start, instead of mouthing off, he might have avoided a great deal of misery. His comment about Dad being chief of police and about him, Danny, not having the time to discuss underwear had sealed his fate. As any student with half a brain would have told him: Your attitude sucks! For some reason or other, a boy with an attitude is even more spankable! One might say that the bigger the “A” for attitude, the bigger the “R” for red- as in red butt.

            And so, much too late, the reality of being  warmly paddled suddenly struck home. The shocked lad screamed so loudly that I knew I had done well in choosing the isolated art room.
            “Oh no- pleeeaaaase- anything but this!” he begged with all his might. “I’ll do anything to get out of this. Do anything you want to me- but please not a spanking. I‘m too old for this.”
            “How does it feel to be on the receiving end of bullying?” I inquired.
            “But- but- but- I’m eighteen years old!” he argued.
            “Not a good argument, Danny! Not a good argument at all. The fact that you are an eighteen-year-older acting like a spoiled bratty kid from elementary school motivates me even more. I am about to tan your hide- as they used to say. And, forgive me for saying this but it is going to be my pleasure. My pleasure, indeed!”
            “But this is sooo entirely un-cool and embarrassing!” he retorted as he managed to raise his head from a lowered position.
            “I’m counting on it, Danny! I’m counting on it! The greater your embarrassment, the better! In fact, I’ve been giving some serious thought to having the prettiest girl in the school observe this.”

            He scoffed at such a suggestion.

            “Yeah, right! In your dreams!” he quipped.

            Another strike for Danny- right down the middle. But in this case, it wasn’t down the middle of the plate but rather down the middle of his ass. I was now certain that the crack in his ass would become fully displayed- both for embarrassment and for spanking purposes. Keep mouthing off, dude, I thought. Keep mouthing off!
            The distraught lad found it rather difficult to keep his head raised when draped over my one knee- his butt sticking high in the air with tight briefs uncomfortably wrapped around his upper thighs and testes- and his dungarees dangling helplessly from his ankles. He tried desperately to adjust his underpants with his right hand, as a marvelous wedgie increasingly and progressively revealed salaciously-tempting portions of his smooth and rounded buttocks- portions which briefs are intended to cover. Not cool! I agreed. Not cool at all!
            But my left hand grabbed his right hand- making any adjustment of his undies futile. My eyes feasted on a good portion of his bare cheeks- and he knew it. Just in case he didn’t know it, I casually and lightly brushed the tips of my fingers across the tender mounds of naked flesh bordering his wedged cottons. Yes- he was sure of it. His bare, pubescent butt was at least partially on display- and at the mercy of a school principal who was taking his orders directly from Chief Mom. How much more of his supple cheeks I would choose to reveal, he could only guess. The fate of his briefs- and the possible full baring of his ashen buttocks, ass crack, ass hole, and quivering ballocks- had to be his number one concern.

            Also crazing his crushed spirit must have been the thought of how any lowering of his undies would affect the status of his pulsating weenie. The moment any boy's elastic waist band is lowered any distance, the very first part of the boy to be sensually affected is his dearest stick- whether it be flacid, semi-hard, or fully erect. The abrasive fabric can’t help but rub up against the wavering and vacillating foreskin or brittle slot . And, if the slit is leaking slick juices, the unwary lad can be easily transported into the twilight zone of ultimate eroticism should the waist band begin massaging his volatile tool. A lad loves such pleasure, of course, but over a spanking knee is hardly his favorite time and place for shooting his load. Boys have several means of masturbating- but ejaculating spoonfuls of spunk all over himself and all over a spanker’s knee is probably not at the top of the list for most boys- though I can fantasize about such a situation working nicely for some.

            It was time to emotionally tantalize him.
            “To bare or not to bare … “ I whispered, as if to myself.

            Danny’s entire body tensed and his elastic cheeks clenched tightly beneath his cottons at hearing the word bare.

 

Chapter 8: Tickle-Torturing Helpless Arm Pits and Tummy to the Point of Madness

            In order to weaken his vigorous, wrestling movements, I desired to exhaust him. Nothing does that better than a rambunctious tickle-torture. I slowly inched my right arm with its hungry fingers underneath his tee shirt and snail-paced toward one of the most vulnerable areas of his entire body- his soft and open arm crevices. His pits were warm, sweaty but smooth, and most inviting. I lightly stroked the soft flesh of both hairless caverns, at first alternating between arm pits, teasing him into a panicky trepidation that I might sink my fingers more deeply into his toasty flesh.

            He must have seen it coming because he hollered vociferously at the same time as I began to mercilessly tickle-torment both pits- the span of my hand easily crossing his narrow chest in order to penetrate both crannies simultaneously. My thumb, with its flexor and rotators, amply and deliriously serviced one arm pit while the four salad fingers gave the other pit equal attention. It did not escape me that his chic and elegant pecs were fully perked. His entire body- especially his chest- shook and trembled. His ass- raised at full mast- did likewise. What bliss!

            Never has a lad thrashed so wildly. My elated fingers devoured his pits for a full ten minutes as he wriggled rowdily. This was the kind of elective that fittingly balances any curriculum.

            Some folks think that the most effective way to tickle-torture the arm pits is to force the arms as high as they will go. For some victims, that is true. Once you have discovered that to be so, go for it. However, I have found that the best way to drive a ticklee to the brink of madness is to open his or her arms just barely enough to fit your tormenting fingers inside. Think about it: with the arms almost closed, the flesh is more meaty- there is more soft tissue for your digits to munch on.

            Also, there is a psychological reality that makes such a tickling even more exasperating for the receiver. The ticklee is fully aware that his pits are open a mere fifteen degrees. If only I could close that small gap, he thinks to himself. But he never does manage to close the opening for the simple reason that you, as tickler, won’t let him. Also, even if the ticklee were successful in closing the gap, he winds up squeezing the tickler’s fingers even deeper into his helpless, sensitive, and vulnerable pits. He gains no more than jumping out of the frying pan into the fire. It’s a no-win situation for the tormentee and great satisfaction for the tormenter.

            When tickling under the arms, it’s important to go lightly at first. It’s not knowing when the tickle-monster will strike that drives the ticklee absolutely bonkers. Whether hairy, peach-fuzzed, or smooth, be sure to tease the pits; make them wait; make them plead for clemency. Over the knee is perfect because the spankee’s left arm is totally incapacitated as his gaping armpit begs to be assailed. No matter what the spankee does, the spanker’s left leg keeps the spankee from closing the menacing cavern under his left arm. As for the spankee’s right arm, the spanker’s left arm can kill two birds with one stone: wrap his own arm around the waist of the wiggling spankee while grasping his hand in such a position that the right arm pit is open at any angle he wishes. Result: the spanking tickler has a free right hand to enter both pits, individually or collectively and, after light strokes, to mercilessly pulverize the warm, helpless pits when the victim least expects it.

            And of course, it doesn’t take a course in Biology to know that just a few inches below the pits lies a soft and squirmy tummy, jealous for equal attention. Wishing not to be discriminatory, my overjoyed digits eventually plunge into the tender belly- again, when the subject least expects it. Ah, the pleasure of tickling and tickle-torturing!

            There are other advantages to the OTK positioning. Such a setting for Danny’s precious rear end was perfect! One of the few areas of his body which is permitted any movement at such a time is the delicate rump. Having been allowed ample movement in his hips, he jerked his loins back and forth as vigorously as a newly-wed pumping his bride for the very first time. He rode my knee not only up and down but also left and right- as it is impossible not to toss and turn while having one‘s armpits eaten alive.

            Showing no mercy, I proceeded from his defenseless armpits to his very ticklish, fully-exposed tummy. It too was soft and inviting- comparable in texture to the meat on his partially exposed buttocks- and I penetrated his tender, twisting belly with great enthusiasm for a full five minutes. My fingers delved deeply into his pliant abdomen while, in turn, his pliant abdomen engulfed my fingers. It was the very best of a two-way street- though I’m sure Danny didn’t see it that way. His stomach muscles convulsively pulsated with frequent spasms as his supple tummy and my fingers alternately kissed one another. He was, indeed, getting the full treatment.

            Every time he wriggled, I thought of his helpless victims on the bus, wriggling similarly to escape his pantsing and underpantsing fingers. Each time he resisted I was reminded of the several casualties- both males and females of all ages- who resisted his spanking hand on the bus, often exiting the bus without any underpants to cover the bare buttocks that Danny had spanked over his knee. And, every time he squirmed, I thought of a blushing Angela squirming desperately in the cafeteria to maintain some degree of modesty as her panties glided off their plump cheeks, down her trembling legs, and into Danny’s grasp in front of a packed house. If the lad had had his way, her dress would have been raised for all the world to see her panty-less and naked adolescent privates.

            What these victims would give to witness Danny over my knee, first-hand!

 

Chapter 9: Please Don’t Drop My Underpants

 

            Finally, he was utterly exhausted and ready for the taking. His body language implied that he had most reluctantly surrendered his adolescent bottom to me. Resigned to some sort of licking, the youth had a pressing plea that rose from the very depths of his adolescent pride:
            “Pleeeease don’t drop my underpants. Pleeeeeease leave the briefs on. Pants me and spank me, if you must, but please- I beg you like I have never begged before- please don’t underpants me. Besides, I need to pee!”

            I wondered whether he really needed to pee- or shoot his load. I thought of what effect his wriggling over my single knee might have on his agitated boy-becoming-man tool. After all, his quivering boner- already oozing juices- must have been screaming for reprieve as his male lap squirmed against mine. And so, he had two very good reasons for keeping his undies around his waistline: escaping the intensely embarrassing exposure of his agile cheeks and the effect a lowering elastic waistband would invariably have on his trembling branch.
            “I‘ve got a hard-on that is different from any other hard-on!" he yelled. "This is soooo embarrassing. Please let me go. I need to go to the john!”
            He wanted the bathroom alright- so that his howling, reddened peter could shoot its vast load of pent-up, adolescent semen, and then abandon the school building without his well-deserved paddling. No way was this tasty morsel leaving my plate! I was determined that Danny’s popping stiffie would reach ecstatic pleasure only after his luscious buns had suffered the spanking of their life- bare or not- and not a moment before. But that seemed impossible; this lad was going to ejaculate his entire groin’s contents right onto my lap before I had a chance to even begin tanning every square inch of his snow-white biscuits to a crimson red.
            How could I stop this bliss in time? How could I prolong youthful orgasm? How could I be sure that an ass-whipping would precede his spilling of seed? How could I insist on pain before pleasure?
            Then it dawned on me: the opposite of extreme pleasure is extreme pain.
It was then that I spotted them- dangling powerlessly between his white, meaty thighs- bidding me to squeeze them and to send their owner into the greatest pain possible.             Danny’s pubic balls- housed in a craggy bag! Yes, his priceless jubies- the most vulnerable part of the boy- the most vulnerable part of any boy. His underpants hid most of the two nut-globes and their protective sac but there was still a partial glimpse of scrotum. Also, there was ample room between the upper inner thighs and the brief’s elastic for a prying administrator to fancifully probe. Probe is what I would gladly do- and what he would miserably rue.
            The youth then made a huge mistake. He gave me further incentive to squish his savory nuts.
            “This really sucks!” he shouted.
            The words sucks was forbidden in those days- and the moment he uttered such a word he knew he had crossed the line at the worst possible time- while over the knee of a disciplinarian, his trousers barely sagging at his toes, and his all-important Fruit-of-the-Looms hanging in the balance. Had his language cost him his briefs? Would sucks doom his covered but badly-behaved buttocks to full exposure. A wedgie is embarrassing enough- but a full denuding of all private flesh?
            At the utterance of the forbidden word sucks, Danny may have expected an immediate lowering of the briefs. He got something rather different. Moving the elastic waistband of the boy panties would have sent the soft tip of his hardened jigger into ecstasy- something I forbade happen until he endured full pain. And so, instead, I reached for immediate pain- a pain worse than that of any licking. I reached for the ball sack between his legs, at first tenderly caressing them and allowing them to hang ever so gently in the palm of my right hand. Initially, it must have felt good because he sighed deeply.

            But not for long!
            I gingerly cradled his growing grapes with the palm of my hand and then- with all of Danny’s victims in mind and grateful that Danny‘s inappropriate language had given me a further reason- I began making a fist, with the teenager’s sensitive melons trapped inside. Slowly but surely I began to feel the very softness of his gourmet nuts as they gave way to my penetrating fingers. There is nothing quite like the throbbing and pulsing of an adolescent’s fully defenseless pecans in your grip. I squeezed them individually and then I squished them together- then, against each other, as if seeking to grind the two masses into one.

            The lad jolted like never before and screeched with a painful grief unknown to most spankees. I was careful not to crush them to the point of popping them- but I felt the tender, masculine orbs vibrate as a throbbing heartbeat in my very hand. What power to have an adolescent's vulnerable honey-roasted peanuts exclusively at my mercy! His severe pain and my ecstatic pleasure kissed at that very moment.
            Danny eventually quieted down as I slowly allowed his delicate gonads to escape my fist- and as I gently coddled them.

 

Chapter 10: A Highly-Intrusive Thumb, Lingering at the Small of His Back

            “To bare or not to bare these doughy buttocks,” the poet in me proclaimed anew. “That is the question.”
            “Nooooooooooooooooooooo - anything but that!” he pleaded at the top of his lungs. “I beg you- noooooooooo. Anything else but that! I am eighteen years old- eighteen years old. I am a man!"
            He eventually settled down, either because he knew he was doomed or because he hoped that by settling down I might spare him the ultimate in embarrassment of exposing and roasting his steaks. He was absolutely right- this was hardly cool for a late teen.
            I took advantage of his surrender by shifting his body weight so that his head was closer to the floor. His feet remained helplessly off the floor while his pubescent V-shaped fork fell directly beneath my famished eyes. His protruding rear was the best freebee sample of finger food I had caught sight of in a long time- and it was all mine.

            Then- as if by omen- the lad’s dangling trousers fell from his ankles and to the floor. I credited that to the tickle-torture. He winced at this- as if the completion of his pantsing would surely lead to the completion of his underpantsing.
            If Danny was unsure of what was to follow- he soon got the message as he felt the thumb of my right hand insert itself inside the elastic waistband of his white undies- at the small of his back, directly above his cleft. These underpants were coming down- and he knew it- unless he did something extraordinary- and quick. His entire body twisted and turned to escape my arm around his waist and my two knees supporting his prone youthful body. But the greatest threat at the moment was not an arm or two knees but rather a single thumb threatening to lower his precious briefs. In his late teens, he wanted no part of such an embarrassing penalty.

            My thumb rested there, a millimeter away from his crevice- just inches away from his full rump and alluring asshole. No one had ever confiscated his underpants before- at least not for the purpose of whipping his nude ass. I wonder if, at that moment, he recalled confiscating Angela’s panties in the cafeteria- in front of the entire Senior class.
            I let him wriggle like a worm on a hook, my highly-intrusive thumb lingering stationary inside the briefs at his waist. I wanted plenty of time for him to wonder fretfully and for me to savor dreamily the gradual exposure of this bully's delightful derriere. If and when I see these precious buns, will I be able to resist devouring them- especially after being warmed by my kneading fingers and ed with my palm? It's midday. What a satisfying lunch these engaging fresh doughnuts will make. Do carnivorous cannibals with their cooking oils and boiling pots consider teens as a special treat? Is adolescent meat more tender that adult? Does gender affect the taste and texture of white meat- or of dark meat- in any way?
            There are several ways in which a petrified adolescent male knows that his undies are about to be dropped- with the exposure of his springy buttocks to follow. One is the feeling of the punisher's thumb leaving its stationery position as it ever-so-gently slides from the lad's waist toward the lad's knees. That is, of course, a dead give-away.
            Another sign is the feeling of cool air rushing onto a warm butt.
            I gave Danny a third way of knowing- a blunt, verbal prelude.
            "Kiss your underpants good-bye, big guy, as I feast my eyes on your honey dews at their very best. I am going to underpants you in slow motion so that the experience will last as long as possible for both of us. Think of all the kids you have bullied as you feel your once-upon-a-time briefs slipping and sliding and gliding down your peach-fuzz legs. Think of all those wedgies you forced on so many frightened victims."
            Danny screamed at the top of his lungs- even more loudly than when I had gripped his highly-prized walnuts. He squirmed ferociously, pleaded adamantly, and shouted expletives that even a school administrator had never heard before. There was no doubt about it- Danny dreaded nothing more than losing his underpants. When he had dressed into briefs that morning, he had expected his undies to come down on two occasions: when he relieved himself in the restroom and when he changed into his PJs at night. No way did he predict that a principal would rob him of his precious under-clothing. And, what possession could be more precious than that which keeps your privates from being exposed to unwelcome eyes and hands?

            Suddenly there was a knock at the art room door. At the sound, Danny panicked. And, he had every right to panic, for what adolescent boy wanted to be caught in such a highly-mortifying, precariously-humiliating position with tightly-wedged and partially-disclosed buttocks protruding and towering into the classroom air, beseeching any happy discoverer to finish him off by stripping him to the bone and then turning his white cheeks into red beats.

            Heaven above, let it not be a girl! Let it not be a group of girls! Let the door be locked! And, may all the angels and saints forbid the last two words a lad in this quandary would ever want to hear from the disciplinarian‘s mouth, i.e., the words: come in!

 

Chapter 11: Cute Little Dimples on His Face With Twin Sisters on His Butt

 

            “Come in!” the principal chanted, deliberately intoning Danny’s two most-dreaded words in a cynical and sarcastic sing-song mode.

            The squeak of a turning door knob, the creak  of an opening door, and the light pitter patter of apparent student feet ensued.

            Danny’s complete corpus solidified as his entire spirit turned to mush.

            “No! Please don’t invite anyone in. Whoever you are, go away! I’m not decent!” he bawled.

            "Oh, by the way, Danny, did I forget to mention that one of your favorite persons is going to be part of this spanking?" queried the punisher.

            The lad couldn't believe his ears- or his eyes.

            There was Angela, in the flesh, gazing at his upturned butt, poorly clad with scant briefs in wedgie formation, mesmerized by his pathetically helpless position. The closer she came, the more she liked what she saw. She was wearing the same skirt that Danny had raised in the lunchroom but this time he would not get his filthy hands on her bikini panties. After all, the underpants of the day were not hers- but rather his. It was Danny who was on the menu this time- a delectable morsel if there ever was one.

            “You gotta be shitting me!” he protested.

            The gaping adolescent girl- the dream of Danny's life- the same girl that Danny could eat alive and still be hungry for more - the very girl who made the tip of his wagger tingle with goose bumps-  was gazing piercingly at my thumb inside the elastic waistband of the boy's briefs. She grinned widely, passionately licked her lips, raised a fist in the air, and shouted:

            "Yes! Yes! Yes! Danny is really going to get it on his fleshy erogenous zone or, as Ms. Pike would say, on his gluteous maximus! Move that thumb and move it slowly southward!" she droned.

            The youth’s entire body cringed as he lowered his head to the floor to avoid making eye contact with her. However, if he was able to hide his upper cheeks from her gawk, he was quite unable to do the same for his lower cheeks, as a healthy portion of his lustrous nates were on major display because of his damned wedgie. Here was the ideal and perfect scene of a mischievous boy about to be disciplined in the most despised and demeaning way possible. She had incessantly dreamed of this; she had madly fingered herself in her bedroom, fantasizing about this very panorama; and, this was her very favorite hallucination immediately prior to her dripping vagina and blood-engorged hot clit exploding in orgasmic delight.

            But now, she was no longer dreaming or fantasizing or hallucinating in her bedroom about a scrumptious Danny being served on a serving platter with an apple in his mouth. The principal-turned-waiter was offering her the real thing- in the raw. The disciplinarian’s knee- over which Danny’s partially clad, appetizing rump was draped- would serve quite well as the dining table on which she would gain sustenance from Danny a la Backside, Goodman Roast Leg of Lamb, Upper Thigh of Goodman, and Rump Roast of Dan-in-a-pan. Yummy! He was still partially clad- with undersized briefs- but not for long; the principal would surely see to that, she stalwartly hoped.

            As she drooled with an insatiable appetite over what she could see, she couldn’t help but wonder what the side order of Crown Roast Pork between his legs had to offer a hungry girl- though she knew all too well from the locker-room informant that his pork was both stiff and firm- it was always erect. The bell for dinner had just rung. Coming!

            “Daniel F. Goodman, I’ve never seen you in your delightful all-togethers before. Rather nice view, yes, indeed. Are you trying to moon me in the middle of a feast? Shame on you! You‘ll have to do a lot better than that!” she declared.

            Her mocking discourse had only begun.

             “Oh, my, what cute little dimples you have! These must be the twin sisters I’ve heard so much about in French class.  I like them even more than the ones on your face- a red face which is trying to hide from your favorite Teen Angel right now. And, it would appear that your wedgie makes the creases in your dimples stand out even more. Very, very appetizing! Les jolies petites fossettes a son visage ont soeurs jambeaux a ses fesses ivoires.  The cute little dimples on his face have twin sisters on his ivory buttocks.”

            She then bent down and whispered in his ear:

            “Incredible how in a single lad’s body there can be such an assorted variety of delightful foods: gourmet hors d’oeuvres of tasty toes; delectable appetizers of tummy flesh and yawning arm pit muscle; precious mounts of  alluring rump that could serve as either main-course roast or twin-croissant desserts:  all equally tantalizing to a girl’s salivating mouth. And, of course, there is the finale of all desserts: the much-advertised and daily-discussed Danny the Banana- ever hard and ever ripe, and steeped in nuts. I can, if you wish, provide the cherry and whipped cream. And, I am not ashamed to admit that I still have my cherry. Right now I have enough ice cream churning between my tremulous legs to host an entire refreshment stand.”

            This was going to be a very interesting disciplinary session, indeed. This gorgeous but spiteful girl was going to turn a classroom spanking into a full-course meal, nay, a banquet! And, Danny had been chosen to provide the cuisine’s victuals- himself as the tasty morsels of food.

 

 

Chapter 12: Skid Marks and Fudgies at the Rear of Tight Briefs 

 

             The deliriously blissful co-ed backed up for a few moments and then again approached Danny's prone body. to his utter amazement, she bent over and- with moistened lips- kissed him squarely on several portions of his soft and yielding buttocks, portions  that should have been covered by his briefs but which were exposed as a result of his wedgie.

            His entire groin recoiled in pure anguish as he felt wholly affronted.

            As she smooched what he had thus far been able to keep private from any girl, she mused aloud:

            "These wedgied hot-cross buns definitely belong in the art room. They are a splendid work of art! Yummy, yummy for my tummy, tummy! I think that I can do a marvelous job of distributing stinging pain to both of these cute little fellows."

            Danny instinctively clenched his hunky hiney muscles ever so tightly- uttering either the word witch or bitch under his breath. Her lip-moist osculates on wedgied-exposed portions of his bare ass he found highly offensive- thus far, the worst part of this degrading ritual. In another setting, such smooches  might have felt exhilarating but here and now when she was teasing and poking fun at his disgrace and degradation, and reveling in the real possibility of his being spanked royally, he felt completely put down. He also resented her references to his bare flesh as food for her tummy, tummy, tummy! As for his ass being called cute little fellows- that make him feel really weird.

            “Danny, do you know the proper definition of the word buttocks? The two fleshy parts of a body posterior to the hip joints and anterior to the upper thighs. Mmmm! Put in the context of a strikingly handsome boy, we have what I would call a tooshie delight. Sounds like something you’d get at a snack stand during the summer, like a banana split royale or a kitchen sink majestic.

            “Nothing to say, Sweetie? The wayward offender, the dropper of panties in the cafeteria, the lifter of skirts in the auditorium, the bully of little kids on the bus, the terror of a twin sister trying to mature in modesty, the perpetrator of teen and pre-teen underpants, the stuffer of wedgies up young folk’s asses, the harasser of gays who (in their honesty of being who they are) just happen to be my best friends,  the delinquent of our building and busses has nothing to say? Your silence is pathetic!”

            “Right, I have nothing to say! What do you want from me?” he demanded.

            It was a dumb question for he already knew what she wanted- his ass- every bit of his ass. Why remind her?

             “For years you have been acting like an intrusive and invasive jerk. Finally, you lie motionless and silent across your principal’s knee with your underpants wedged deeply up your ass and a co-ed, to whom you are greatly attracted, ready to paddle your ass into Kingdom Come- and you have nothing to say? What’s wrong with this picture? Wake up and smell the roses, Danny Boy. If your Dad weren’t police chief you’d be at a Detention Center or in State Prison by now. You’ve been getting away with murder. But I’ll tell you something, hot pants, today your impish ass is grass. Better yet, it‘s mine!”

            “If you let me go, I promise to be good,” he offered.

            “Sorry, dude, too late. Just like, in some ways, it’s too late for your sister Marge. She was able to replace her torn panties and bra after you stripped her on the bus. But what is going to replace her dignity? How does she get that back after her asshole brother took it away in front of a busload of dorks and dimwits.? It must be nice to have a brother shitting all over you instead of helping you.”

            A long and dead quiet filled the room.

            “I’m sorry!” Danny broke the silence.

            “You sure are sorry. You’re the sorriest excuse I know for a human being. I’m as physically attracted to you as you are to me. But your soul is as mean as your body is gorgeous. You‘re a candy ass and a bad ass! You are perfect proof of my grandfather’s expression that there are more horses‘ asses than there are horses.”

            Pouncing on her own expression of candy ass, she interjected:

            “Hey, I thought you were a boxer short  man and here you are wearing a little boy’s tighty whities” she teased. “These look like leftovers from your childhood years. Why didn‘t you just wear a diaper or- better yet- pampers to school?”

            “I ran out of boxer shorts this morning and had nothing else to wear,” he retorted.

            Angela belly-laughed his words away and mockingly replied:

            “I have news for you, big guy. I’ll let you in on a little secret. After talking with me last night, your mother deliberately emptied your bedroom bureau drawers of boxer shorts this morning and replaced them with a single, undersized pair of tighty whitey briefs from your middle school days. It was my idea! Now wasn’t that a stroke of genius on my part? And, isn‘t your mother sweet to do that for little ole me?”

            Danny’s speechlessness was deafening!

            “And, what’s more,” she added, “the entire school knows about it. They will also soon know how I found you draped across the principal’s knee with a terrific wedgie stuck deep into your sweaty ass crevice. And, just wait until they discover that you’ve switched from expensive boxer shorts to middle-school tighty whities. They’re going to wonder if your Mommy dresses you each morning to be sure that your little can-can is safely tucked away in your diaper before you go off to pre-school. Have you checked out the disposable ones yet- because I notice a few light skid marks on your tight briefs at the rear! Did you run out of Scottie Tissue paper during this morning‘s toilet-training session? You need to be a  wee bit neater than that. At your age, your Mom expects some dried crusty soiling at the front but aren’t you a bit old for chocolate pudding stains in the rear?”

            Danny shook his head in complete disgust. He had been set up by his own mother, the principal, Angela‘s mother, and even Angela herself - the girl who made the tip of his dick tingle with goose bumps. He blushed at the thought that Angela knew, even before he knew, that he would be stepping into a pair of under-sized, middle-school, tighty whitey briefs that morning for no other reason than that they had been the only ones available. Ugggghhhhh! Embarrassing to the core of  his male-hood!

            But that was nothing compared to the overwhelming fear that, because of Angela, he might be stepping out of  those same snug briefs in a matter of moments- with her beautiful blue eyes dining on everything that he called private. That would be soooo uncool! He felt like a pillock, an idiot, a fool, a pratt, a class-A dork and loser! Did it ever dawn on him that kids who lost their underpants to his grimy paws on the bus or kids who received gross and painful frontal and ripper wedgies from his grubby fingers might have felt the same way?

            “Your favorite wedgie is a pants-down wedgie, isn’t it, hot shot?” she goaded.

            Danny started to respond and then thought better of it. Rather, the lad commented under his breath.

            It was quite obvious that this was an ever-so-sweet payback time for vindictive Angela. To add insult to injury, her right hand spanned both sides of his wedged briefs, squeezing the cotton undies together toward the center of his butt, thereby forcing more of his underpants into the split of his ass and exposing even more cleavage. Her mouth opened wide at the sight of his gorgeously vulnerable cheeks, after which she moistened her lips, in full circle, with her tongue.

            “There now,” she bragged. “Consider yourself, as the wedgie experts would say, fully wedgified!”

            A girl had dissed a boy as meanly as any girl could diss any boy. He closed his eyes and wished he could become absolutely invisible.

 

Chapter 13: A Spiteful and Malevolent Bitch

 

            Upon Angela’s arrival, three-quarter of his ass had been safely in hiding. With her arrival, it was now half-exposed. She then gently rubbed the part of his undies that lie, thus far, safely and securely buried in his center split- the look on her face promising that eventually no part of his adolescent cheeks would escape her eyes, hands, or lips. It was only a matter of time before she would claim all of his provoking underpants and, as a result, the tasty mounds in their entirety- not to mention the tantalizing crevice in the center.

            Once again she bent over her prized prey- taking several minutes to kiss every single square inch of bare flesh on either side of the wedgie. She then spread his legs wide, focusing on his upper, inner thighs with both lips and tongue. Her mouth all but devoured his male intersection. I swear that if it weren't for his cotton wedgie, she would have swallowed his reproductive strawberries and ripe banana whole.

             "Yummy, yummy for my tummy, tummy!"

            Danny was highly insulted , to put it mildly!

            If ever an adolescent male wanted to melt into oblivion and to disappear from the face of the earth, it was Danny.

            The spiteful and malevolent bitch- as Danny later described her- then bent close to his face, kissed him directly on the lips with lots of tongue, and then whispered in his ear:

            "I hope that lifting my skirt at the assembly and exposing my pink bikini panties to the whole world at lunch was worth it because this little ceremony today is certainly worth it to me."

            Before getting up, her hand suddenly and furtively reached into the front of his snug briefs, grabbed the head of his unusually stiff pecker, and penetrated his purple throbbing crown with her long and sharp fingernails. Neither Danny nor I had expected this. I don't think Angela herself had planned to do this. It was so spontaneously hateful.

            Danny roared with excruciating pain, imploring her to release his royal crown from the grasp of her piercing nails. Eventually, she obliged him- only to transfer the tips of her fingers to the very base of his quivering prick, spiking that part of the same organ. She then grasped the entire penile shaft, aggressively squeezed it, and finally pierced the fragile flesh on all sides. Her razor-sharp nails had punished his entire carnal member in just seconds. The poor boy's fleshy pistol had to be on fire. Unwilling to discriminate against any part of Danny’s privates, she gave his wrinkled, crumpled ball-sac a few terrible jab that left several surface scratches.

            Then, typical of her gift for alternating between pain and pleasure- a masochistic and sadistic way of driving boys (and herself) crazy- she placed a hungry thumb at the very tip of his sopping sausage and began to gently rub it. She tenderly opened the discharging slit in his ever-growing, ever-hard bamboo, both horizontally and vertically, driving him to the pleasurable brink of lunacy. Her caressing thumb, having accomplished the welcome task of inducing his slick juices to flow, then brushed repeatedly over the sodden crown’s circumference- giving Danny’s mushroom the female attention it so urgently sought. Soon thereafter, her restless fingers followed suit by leisurely descending to his full shaft, kneading it to a frenzy that only Angela- the most beautiful girl in the world- could pull off.

            "Mmmmm- you're still as hard as a rock” she gleefully noted, withdrawing her both torturous and pleasuring hand from the front of his sad and happy briefs. “How do you do it? I like my ice cream soft but I love my dingalings  hard. And, from what I hear, yours is always hard!”

            “Speaking of hard dicks, Mr. Preston asked us the other day what job each of us would seek if we were in the job market today. If he only knew my wish. I want a special office next to the boys’ bathroom so that anytime a boy gets his weenie caught in his zipper, I could assist. I swear I would put my whole self into it. I would do a good job- a great hand job- and not charge much. In fact, just to be sure that the boy doesn’t get his summer squash caught in his fly in the first place, I would be glad to take charge of all zipping.”

            I wish she’d use a zipper on her mouth! Danny ruminated.

            “Yes, I love the power that nature has given a girl to make a boy hard- even without touching him. Think about it, Danny: I have a clout over your body that you yourself often lack- to enhance both the size and the texture of your rawest possession. In class, all I have to do is lock my eyes onto a boy’s ever-alert vestakking and lick my lips, and- presto- within seconds, the lump in the front of his pants tells me that his trickling yoyo has enlarged and is now saluting me. The blush on his face then thanks me from the depths of his jovial balls to the very tip of his smiling wong. A mere glance, from the other end of the room, can telegraph a sudden rush of warm blood to his prized organs.

            If I can do that with a fleeting look, imagine what I could do to his cream-filled twinky with my hand. Going one better- would it give new meaning to the expression Salute Your Shorts if I were to slowly strip in front of him, giving him the stiffest gift of his life? Or do you think the typical boy would prefer that I strip him?

            Golly, I just love being a girl! There is nothing quite like girl power- nothing quite like girl omnipotence! I call it omni-penis-potence and omni-penis-impotence depending upon whether I want to make or break a guy’s erect boner.

           

Chapter 14: Shooting a Load in the Middle of Algebra II

 

            With Danny in a completely helpless OTK position, his cotton-wedged tushie very much elevated, the outer portion of his cute pastries exposed to her eyes, and the center of his male butt hoping and praying that it would remain covered, the strikingly attractive and articulate Angela took advantage of her captive audience- irking, goading, provoking, needling, and aggravating him with her tirade of equivocal, double-meaning words.

            Though physically still a virgin herself, she continued to mind-fuck the powerless chap with her carefully-worded and ambiguous language. She was terrific at this- driving a boy’s two most powerful sex instruments- mind and prick- to a maddening state of soft mush as to the former and rock-hardness as to the latter. She was what boys called a tease. With both tantalizing words and alluring body language- characterized by seedy flirtations and seamy insinuations- she could easily, naturally, and instantly seduce a guy’s full intersecting package  to the brink of unyielding stiffness and ejaculatory frenzy- and then, just as quickly, cruelly abandon the poor guy, leaving him so utterly frustrated in his inability to satisfy the urgent needs that she herself had tapped deep within him. It was the kind of bitter disappointment that drove a guy to lunacy. It was analogous to awakening from a wet dream, only to find one’s hands tied behind his back and to further discover a tight elastic band wrapped around his throbbing and pulsating dinghy. 

            “One of my fantasies,” Angela shared, “is to sit next to a hunk during a quiet, standardized test and kind of dispassionately lock my widened eyeballs onto his unwary lap. Then, ever so casually, to drop a light hand onto his lower thigh, slowly crawl up toward his unsuspecting male junction, and then gently squeeze anything that my inquisitive fingers can inhale and swallow. If he tries to pull away, I will whisper to him: One false move and I will hurt you in a way that you can’t begin to fathom. Take it like a man- or stop being a man! I’m willing to bet a week’s allowance that I could make him come instantly, or, at the very worst, convert him to a man on a mission to the lavatory. The ideal, of course, is a dude with razor-thin trousers so that both he and I can get the full drop-and-squeeze benefit.”

            Her fantasy words reached the depths of Danny’s suspended balls with a sudden surge of energy.

            “Often a boy at whom I seductively wink will immediately leave the room with only the two of us knowing exactly where he is going- to the boy’s room to pound his meat into elation. Once- just once- a guy shot his load right there on the spot- right in the middle of Algebra II. He put his head down on his desk and a book on his lap to conceal his orgasm but his entire body stiffened and his celebrative groin went into uncontrollable thrust spasms. How does a guy hide his vibrant hips as they vehemently rise to kiss the air some eight to ten times in a matter of seconds? He doesn’t! But what best reveals his little- or big- secret are his moans and groans. At such a time, I bet a boy wishes he were mute.”

            Any chance of you becoming mute? Danny thought.

            “When you stop to think about it, what better place for a guy to shoot his load than in Algebra II with its obscene focus on radical signs, absolute value of a male, measuring the slope of his straight line, power product of a guy, common fuck-tors, roots of square males’ balls, play-nomial eggs-pressions,  graphing and exploring of bodily functions, inequality of male penises, working on a male’s log-rhythms, variations in a boy’s proportionalities, measuring the distance between his point and my point… ! The list of satisfying mathematical possibilities- and frustrating mathematical impossibilities- is endless.”

            This dissertation of yours is endless!.

            “And then there’s Geometry- God Bless Geometry- with its male and female vertices, cute and obtuse crotch angles, Euclidian parallel prostate, circumference of buns, diameter of pricks, tangents of dick crowns at the navel, and the orgasmic study of pyramids. It has reached a point where all the teacher has to do is mention the expression right angle and I start to dampen that part of my panties closest to my furry pussy. I still can’t completely figure out the Piss-and-gore-him Theorem where the screwing of square-shooter male A plus the screwing of square-shooter male B always equals the screwing of square-shooter male C. I wonder if it works on males who are not square shooters. Anyway, I just adore drawing those cute right-angled crotches and boners that go with the exercises- and examining a guy’s quads when they’re lateral.”

            Where does she get this stuff? Danny inquired of himself. I’d take Geometry every year if they let me measure the circumference of her white thighs.  She also has a few diameters I’d like to measure, once I’ve lapped up her rich juices.

            “By all the gods and goddesses, I can’t wait for college Calculus II with its derivatives of a male function, mean male value theorem, definite table of inter-balls, Riemann buns, guy applets, furry series of a girl’s periodic function, minimum-maximum-first time-second time functions, use of the squeezing theorem (though they don’t specify what you squeeze), girl-boy hospitality rule, indeterminate limits (yes!), male’s chain rule, exponential orgasms, finding area under the curves, finding the volume of penile revolutions (whew!), salty hyperbolic solutions, and Table of LaPlace- both his and hers, I guess! It’s enough to make a girl major in Math- with a double major in Bio.”

            The thought of finding Angela’s area under the curves energized the extremity of Danny’s beating fellow.

            “For some reason and in their own way, orgasms that are stifled in class often speak more loudly than orgasms that are carefree. The stifling sounds adds an enchanting dimension: the boy is desperately attempting to hide a very awkward and embarrassing activity- and doing a terrible job at covering it up. He knows- and the girls know- that the sudden and unexpected thrusts of sticky and salty jissom - now spread over his pubic hair, upper thighs, and lower tummy- are due to the magnificent long-distance performance of a girl’s lips and tongue. It is remarkable that such a wonderful event can take place without any effort on the part of the boy- and with very little effort on the part of the girl. Can you imagine what the same girl could accomplish if she were to show the boy some cleavage or place a snooping hand (or two) inside of his briefs or boxer shorts? Such stimuli would send the typical lad to all seven planets- including up Uranus- and then back again? Students, it is time for the sausage fest!”

            She talks about her cleavage as if it were on display. The only time I see any sign of it is if I raise her skirt myself, Danny reflected.  That vision is so short-lived that it’s more frustrating than satisfying. She’s a big-tease; that’s what she is: a big tease. Her teasing is driving both me and my dick crazy- and she knows it. I’ve got to get out of here! But how?

            “It’s even better if the boy is standing and facing me because I prefer his sharp arrow pointing at my hot pussy and firm titties rather than at the loveless ceiling. I can so easily pretend that that his cocked cannon is: piercing my dress and panties; cuddling my juicy and elastic, muscular tube; prodding my hairy pussy entry to open its deep crevice even wider than it already is; and sliding his loaded revolver into my quivering love canal ever-so-slowly but also ever-so-forcefully. At such a moment, I can feel my own female erection right next to my wet snatch as my engorged and inflated clit feels a sudden flash of hot blood sprinting toward it. Then I picture myself sucking him off and milking him bone dry, and having him do the same to me. Ever been sucked off, Danny? Ever been milked bone dry?”

            At this point, Danny’s entire torso is ablaze.

            “And, it doesn’t take much to envisage the cross-eyed, hazy look in his eyes and muffled sound of his moan as his swollen revolver abruptly releases, into my famished interior walls, thrust after thrust of several teaspoons of hot jism . It’s cum fiesta time! At such times, I know the true meaning of the word carnivorous. And, at such time, it makes me wish I were a queen cannibal in the deepest jungles, feasting not only  my eyes but also my teeth and digestive system on any delectable male who unsuspectingly wanders into my territory or who unwittingly accepts my invitation to lunch. I’ve always envied the fox- especially when her rabbit prey was male. I could so easily become a cannibal in a society where boys are second-class citizens and where their primary purpose is to feed girls- to sacrifice their own male flesh in order to nourish their superiors. Mmmmm!”

            Something special is happening between Danny’s legs, the intensity of which he has never experienced before. And, for a change of pace, he likes what he feels. If only, he could get his butt out of a sling. Perhaps, then, he could enjoy it.

 

Chapter 15: A Girl’s Favorite Pastime: Making and Destroying Guys’ Boners

 

            Angela’ audience continues to be a  captive one. Not only is she screwing the OTK lad’s mind with sexual fantasies but also with the morbid dread of losing his underpants and with the false hope of not losing them. It’s like deep-sea fishing. When a guy is seasick, he alternates between being afraid of dying and being afraid of not dying. If she’s s going to strip me and wallop me red, he says to himself, why not do it and get it over with?

            But that is not Angela’s torturous and taunting style. She is going to make him wait.

            “My favorite pastime is to walk the school corridors, searching for a boy with a limp in his walk. He thinks that his long shirt and corduroys can keep a secret- but I know better. When a boy has trouble walking- that means his sugar-frosted dong is not only at full erection but also pointed downwards toward his young thighs. A swollen pecker in that position can really hurt because it’s bent unnaturally. Sometimes a boy’s vibrating pepperoni is in this position because it has nowhere else to go- the pants are too tight for it to project outward or it’s caught in his boxers or briefs in such a way that it can’t move upward. No boy wants to get caught adjusting his thumping hot dog from the third quadrant to the second quadrant of his underpants in public- though he certainly has my permission to do so at any time. And so he has two choices- go into the bathroom and adjust the little sucker to pointing upwards rather than downwards- or walk with a limp which brings pain- and female attention- to his sweet cock with every step.”

            Danny’s dogleg returns to its full rigidity, the head insanely striving to break out of the foreskin.

            “When I spot such a wounded prey in my travels, my hips immediately swing into action. They nonchalantly pay the boy’s groin and butt a quick, intimate visit as I accidentally give him the bump. If a boy is hot- and aren’t they all before and during and after puberty- a bump is enough. The mere body contact sends vibes up his bouncy buttocks and down his ever-ready-to-spring shaft. Before long, my unsuspecting corridor buddy is either grabbing his jam-packed trunk with discretion or spraying his undies with sperm fluid between grunts- or heading for the bathroom to finish off what I so naively and innocently started.

            I love it when a boy rushes his jack to the john after brushing by me. I like to think that when he unzips his fly and pulls out his little name’s sake, he sees my face engraved on his mushroom and notes my smile extending across the slit at the tip of his ripe banana! I also have to confess that I get extra wet between my legs when I hear him grunt before reaching the bathroom. That means that he didn’t make it in time and now has to clean himself up of sticky and salty paste. Yes! At such time of combined inconvenience and pleasure, the boy’s cucumber becomes more of a sweet and sour pickle- sweet from the feelings of volcanic eruption and sour from the need to clean the gob of whipped cream from his pubic hair, upper thighs, and soft belly. Maybe adolescent boys that hot should wear tampons- ya think?”

            “Doesn’t that cunt ever shut up?” Danny whispered, as he tried to shift his body within the confines of my knees. “Somebody ought to stick a tampon in her mouth rather than in her genitalia.”

            Despite Danny’s vulgar protests, his entrecuisse rocket is now launched for outer space.  Also, I would certainly see to it that even though Angela had not heard his obnoxious four-letter reference to her crotch as representative of her entire self, his well-packaged rolls would pay dearly for using a term that I have always despised. I gave him plenty of space to shift his weight. After all, he wasn’t going anywhere. The irony of it all: he may come but he may not go.

            “But sometimes the boy is not grateful,” she continued. “I like that even better. I get an added thrill when a boy gets an erection even though he does not want one. What dominance a girl has- to force a titillating boner on a boy against his will!”

            I’ll give you that one, nectar cakes!

            “But a girl has that same muscle power to not only make a boner but also to destroy a boner. For example, if I were to encircle a boy’s flaccid willie with a sharp razor- a makeshift guillotine- and then taunt him with my tongue- he would wind up slicing off his own phallus as it helplessly thickens, cuts into the blade, and then drops to the floor. He would have no power to stop it from chopping itself off- especially if I lifted my skirt, dropped my panties, and removed my bra. Even the most flaccid of cocks would instantly rise to the occasion, especially  if it were rubbed against my stiff nipples. Much of the time, a boy cannot tell his tube steak what to do. But a girl often can! Now that’s power! Skirts rule! Think about it, I can stroke a guy’s sugar-coated crueller into eternal life or I can slice it into everlasting hell. The same sweet nut sacks I fondle, I can also kick. The same prick that I make grow, I can make die.”

            At the thoughts of a  makeshift guillotine and a dead cock, Danny’s ultimate part loses a full forty-five degrees, but nevertheless remains forked. I know because I could feel it pulsating against my inner thighs.

 

Chapter 16: We Girls Have a Naughty Shame-Shame Game We Play With Boys

 

            “We girls have a naughty game we play. Anytime a boy leaves the class, we assume it’s to relieve his aching wang of deep-down-in-the-balls pressure. We figure that, statistically, we are right most of the time. Upon his return to the classroom,  the three of us look him straight in the eye, wave a shame-shame finger at  him, and then chuckle. If he had, indeed, been jerking off in the bathroom, he turns red as a beat. If, on the other hand, he had not been wanking his willie, he turns pink because he knows that eventually we will be right. He knows that we will wait for another day- a day that will certainly come and a day well worth waiting for. On that day, when he does jack off,  he will get a scarlet-red face instead of a carnation pink one- and both boy and girls will know why.”

            Danny had heard of that game and had become one of the several boys who refused to leave the classroom for fear of becoming the recipient of those shame-shame fingers. He had come close to urinating on several occasions rather than get sucked into that game.

            “They all do it!!! Ninety-nine percent of boys play with themselves- and the remaining one percent that deny it are liars,” Angela pontificated. “Most wanking, I am told, gets done in their bedrooms and in their home showers. But spanking the monkey at home is not enough for them. They still need to get it off at school daily- often more than once a day- in the boys’ bathroom . Their jack in the beanstalk needs to be stirred three times a day- maybe four on a snow day.”

            Four times? Is that all? You got that one wrong, babe!  Danny thought to himself.

            “As you know, Danny, there are many ways in which you guys whack off, and I’m curious about which ones work best for you, especially in the shower- which must be the most popular because you are certain of being alone and there is no mess to clean up.  I know you can toss it off in the shower with an energetic soapy hand or with a powerful jet stream of water titillating the sensitive head of your boy-toy. I’ll bet at times you can’t tell the difference between the soap suds and the semen.”

            Wrong again, dudette. I can easily tell the difference between what comes out of a bottle and what comes out of my drooping balls and pud, he deliberated.

            “As to positioning in your bedroom, I know that some boys lie on their back and do a vigorous hand-job on their jack. That must mean that when you peak, your tensed pelvis leaps toward the ceiling as you thrust and squirt upward. Boys that wank face down must max out into the mattress as their entire body stiffens for the thrust and squirt downward. One of my friends says that the first positioning is a matter of fucking the air while the second positioning is a matter of fucking the bed. What I want to know is this: when your Mom or sister does the laundry, can they tell that the pillow case or sheet or blanket or pajamas or underpants have been soiled. I know that jizz dries quickly but doesn’t it leave a milky crust that shows? Do you use any other clothing to help you shoot your load? And, if you share a room with a brother or don’t want the whole house to hear you partying with your soon-to-become raw beef, how do you keep your voice down? Is it possible for a boy to reach orgasm without so much as a satisfying grunt? And, most important of all- do you ever whack off with another guy- and what’s it like. Do you do each other or take turns watching each other? Final question: I don’t suppose you’d invite me to watch and maybe even help?”

            At this point, Danny was crying bitterly. You could tell that he hadn’t missed a word of hers. At the same time, he had no idea of how to respond amidst his sobbing. Why? Because, as I later learned, he felt humiliated by not being able to meet Angela’s expectations of what every boy does with his prized projectile and coveted hangings every day. She surmised that every boy jerked off three times a day in heavenly bliss. Not so- at least not for him! This was not his reality- though he had hoped and prayed in endless supplication to all of the Greek and Roman gods and goddesses for  the most coveted gift possessed by any boy: the power to shoot his load.

            And so, for all of his perpetual boners- and they were perpetual- and for all of his frequent leaky faucets- and they were frequent-  he had never ejaculated. He had never ejected his seed. To the best of  his knowledge- and he would have remembered it if it had happened- he never even experienced a nocturnal emission. In his eight years of adolescence, he had oozed pints, maybe gallons, of precum but there was never enough in his PJ’s the following morning to even assume he had ejaculated. And, even if he had, who wants to ejaculate without being aware of it and without celebrating it?

            What a terrible waste of male flesh! It just wasn’t fair for an extremely handsome boy with a perpetual erection- and with dimples on all four cheeks- to never enjoy the male ecstasy of exploding into his own hand or into his clothing or into his bed or into a toilet or into a shower drain or into a field. What was worse- how would he ever shoot such a load into another’s welcoming hand or receptive mouth or inviting vagina- or into any waiting cavern? No wonder he was angry! No wonder he spent so much time wedging and pantsing and underpantsing and punishing and bullying and humiliating! He had nowhere to dump the bubbling love-juices of his richly-endowed testicles and nowhere to dump  his shame and frustration - and so he was dumping a load of anger onto others.

            Danny’s chronic impotency was no excuse for his misbehavior but it was most certainly a reason!

 

Chapter 17: Several Kinds of Masturbation and In Your Dreams, Mighty Mouse

 

            The inquisitive wench- as Danny described her- wanted to know more about the several kinds of boy masturbation. She took out a list and started enumerating them: the thumb-forefinger, the full fist grip, the mushroom, the campfire method, the poking out of the pulpit, the headless jerking, the interlocking grip, the backhand masturbation, the foreskin grip, the palm-belly-penis sandwich,  the packaging tape, circular masturbation, two full hand’s full, the downward squeeze, the upward squeeze, the boxer rub masturbation, the table hump masturbation, the butt resting on heels, the pole straddle tight rope, the pelvis momentum explosion,  the backhand circular, the one-topped one-bottomed, the oral lip imitation method, the pelvic thruster tease, the wring it out masturbation, and the thumb concentration on glans. ³

            Danny hadn’t heard of any of these- I had heard of only a few myself- though I suppose we both knew of some by another name. He had no real-life descriptions to offer but he wasn’t about to tell her that. And so, to cover up his own impotence and to satisfy some of her curiosity, he made up a story about yanking his crank in the shower.

             “One day I fired so powerfully that one of the thrusts bounced off the shower wall at one end of the tub and splashed me in the face at the other end so hard that it gave me a black and blue mark for days.” Danny was serious. He had never seen anyone fire- himself included- but many of the boys foolishly boasted such potency.

            “You wish!” she insultingly answered! “In your dreams, Mighty Mouse!”

            That had to be one of the top five jabs of the day. She really knew how to cut a guy down with words. She had a tongue that could excite the tip of a boy’s dinghy to nirvana while at the same time castrating him with her words.

            Danny continued his weeping. Despite his reputation for bullying, I was beginning to feel some compassion for the lad. From his words and actions I was beginning to recognize the ugly face of impotence in his life. It just wasn’t fair for nature to give him all of the male machinery he required- with the sole exception of a piston. Not fair to give any hunter a gun and ammunition- but no firing pin. What adolescent wants his rifle on safety the whole time! What adolescent wants his rifle on safety at any time! Danny was much more than a label- much more than an object. Terms like bad boy, bus predator, chief’s son, edible hunk, ill-disciplined brat, dimple butt, pimple on the ass of school administrators, and school bully were only part of who he was, perhaps a rather small part- the tip of an iceberg?

            Simmering deep below the surface, even deeper than his hungry balls, was an overwhelming and demoralizing impotence, powerlessness, and helplessness which permeated not only his male entrepiernas but also his soul. Had someone abused him? Who was his predator? Too often we pass on the abuse; too frequently we transfer the victimization- do we not?

            But today he still needed to be disciplined. His mother and I had agreed on that- as had Angela and her mother. Counseling could follow.

            Sweet-buns Angela rattled on. She was beginning to sound like a health class instructor except that it was obvious that she was mouthing many words and expressions about which she knew absolutely nothing. Danny wanted to challenge her to share her own masturbatory experiences- not to mention why she got off so much on masturbating boys’ minds but when a guy’s semi-exposed buttocks are raised on high in wedged undies in front of a lass who would like nothing more than to finish him off with a yank of his briefs all the way to his knees-followed by a sound thrashing of those same tender cheeks- silence is definitely the better part of valor. Imprison and incapacitated in every way between an administrator’s knees- and over that same administrator’s left knee- the boy was at her total mercy- and they both knew it. No, he would have to limit the conversation one-way.

            “And then there are other ways in which a boy can choke the chicken, including: intercourse style masturbation with couch, deep scrotum and testicle massage, maximum penis head stimulation, perfect bathtub masturbation, acrobatics-water flow on testicles, tease the tip, pillow humping hands-free, backhand pelvic thrust, sexual intercourse imitation, hands-free pelvic grind, glass balls masturbation, ice cold golden testicles (ouch), firearm stroking technique, pull-bend-squeeze, underhanded masturbation, squat and spurt, fast finger, and banana jack.” ⁴

            Thanks for sharing that, Angela, but somebody ought to choke your chicken, he thought to himself. As for my own chicken, nothing I have ever tried works. And nothing I will ever try will work. In six years I have tried everything. But what would you care?

            But Angela was totally oblivious to his painful thoughts as she continued to blabber on with words that sometimes stimulated Danny’s innards and at other times bored him shitless.

            “Hmmmm- if I were a boy, I think I would like the oral lip imitation, the campfire method, and the perfect bathtub styles the most. Can you really start a fire with the campfire method or is that just a rumor?  I don’t think I would like the ice cold golden testicles approach and I would be really scared of the headless jerking. It sounds like a boy could lose his dick head on that one. Can you imagine losing the head of your whanger, Danny?”

            You are a dick head! he mused, this time with the presence of mind to smirk.

            “Oh, one last thing on masturbation! One boys says that the most powerful masturbation tool is the brain. Is it really possible to get your genitals that far up your body?

            It was the one and only time that Danny truly laughed. Was she serious?

            “It’s what they call thinking off,” Danny offered.

            What a twit! he thought.

            He was still sorting out the combination of pain and pleasure in the front of his wedged briefs. The schoolboy’s pubescent schritt- and mind- were on the highest mountain and in the deepest valley at the same moment.

            “The boys tell me that you have a perpetual hard-on.” she mused aloud. “So, what more could a guy want?”

            What more could a guy want? he began to consider in a stream-of-consciousness style. The handgun below my belly button has been cocked since I was twelve- for six long years. I want it to fire- that’s what I want more- more than anything else. Every girl I know wants a guy’s manhood to fire. They love to look at it- especially when it is full-grown, erect, and they enjoy getting a glimpse of an increasing  pre-cum but ultimately they want the gun to fire. I love my piece of meat but either it can’t fire or it won’t fire. I want to have sexual intercourse; I want to make whoopee; I want to mate. Most important of all, I want to fire it into you as I make love to you- or is this news to you, Angela? I want you so bad I can taste you. I have always wanted you- from the first day I met you.  I know that you too want it to fire; otherwise, why are your magical fingers spending so much time in the front of my briefs- tempting me to shoot. Damned a cannon that won‘t discharge! Damned a barrel that never sees a bullet! I want to pull back the hammer, flick down the tiny lever that directs the firing pin, and squeeze the trigger into the sexual thrill of a lifetime. I want to spray your insides with hot jism. And, after getting inside of you, I want to stay there forever. That‘s the what more I want! I want you, Angela, and I want you so very bad that I can’t focus on my school work days and I can’t sleep nights.

            I wonder how Angela would have responded had Danny shared those immediate thoughts aloud with her! Would her words have smacked of compassion or of castration? My best guess is that she would have responded in both ways. She was such a hybrid of emotions toward boys: lightly massaging their ultra-sensitive purple crowns and flowing slits with one hand while squeezing their spongy, vulnerable nuts with the other. Still, wasn’t he a crossbreed himself?

 

Chapter 18: Filet Mignons Begging to be Unwrapped, Sauced, and Barbecued

 

            All this time, my right administrative thumb maintained its valued location at the base of Danny's spine. Mr. Thumb continued to hold his place one millimeter away from Danny's crevice and just inches away from his full rump and bum hole.

            Angela then switched gears. When events seemed like they could get no worse, she struck terror into Danny's heart as she addressed me:

            "So when is that patient thumb of yours going to do its job of removing these tighty whities so that I can see my very first naked teenage boy ass? After all, Danny‘s favorite wedgies are the underpants-down kind."

            At those words, every muscle in Danny's body- his firm and rigid kilbasi included, I am sure- endeavored to bolt from his confinement. He wanted out of there in the worst way. It was quite obvious that he was going to experience the spanking of his life- the first and only spanking of his life- in front of the most beautiful girl in the entire world. He now knew for sure that his scanty cotton briefs and snowy white bottom were in serious danger.

            The more he struggled, the firmer I held him between my knees. Danny was going nowhere- though his tasty bum was eventually going from creamy white to crimson red. All in good time! The longer he waited, the more effective it would be- the more embarrassment and trepidation there would be. A truly efficacious spanking is ninety-five percent preparation. I dare say the same is true of good sex. Call it foreplay, if you will.

            I then threw the lad a curve ball. I removed my thumb from the elastic of his undies, and, for the first time since I had unbuckled his belt and dropped his drawers, he breathed a sigh of relief.

            But not for long!

            "Angela, rumor has it that when Danny recently lifted your skirt and exposed your panties at the assembly and in the dining hall, his ultimate goal was to drop your panties. Can you imagine how you would have felt had that happened?" I inquired. “And, didn’t he actually rob you of your under-panties  in the lunch room, passing them around to the entire cafeteria? If I heard correctly, Danny sent you home that day without any panties.”

            Angela's face reddened with an angry façade from such a memory but then smiled broadly. She got the message- if Danny hadn’t. I was placing the status of Danny’s underwear- and the status of his provocative buttocks- into her hands. The roles between Danny and Angela were hereby reversed. She, not I, would decide his primary fate.

            The hungry pupils of her stunning eyes widened to their fullest as she approached Danny- helplessly bent over my knee- and addressed him smugly and confidently:

            "I'm sorry, Danny, but this is too good to resist. Your dungies are decorating the floor directly beneath your dangling feet, your wedgied boy panties are in a knot around your crotch, and healthy portions of your luscious buttocks are staring at me. Your underwear is begging for a girl's touch, for a girl's adjustment- shall we say? Your Fruit of the Looms are pleading to be rescued. And, I am the perfect girl to finish them off."

            She smacked her dry lips several times, brushing her fingers across both of her supple pecs. Danny lustily gazed back at the outline of the same pliant nipples, subconsciously licking his own lips as well.

            "It's time we had a panty raid- a boy panty raid," she added.

            Danny froze in absolute shock as Angela gently but deliberately placed both of her thumbs inside the waistband of his scant skivvies. It was time to act. The moment he had dreaded the most had arrived- and, from top to bottom, he was helpless to do anything about it.

            This can't be happening; this isn't happening!

            With half of her moist tongue protruding out of her mouth, the craving lass peeled back the center of the young man’s briefs just enough to get a glimpse of his crack: a modest preview of coming attractions. She then used her two thumbs to tenderly separate the extreme upper portion of his resilient cheeks. A single blonde pubic hair surfaced to greet the curious lass.

            "Yummy! If you look this delectable with just a small crevice showing in your upper butt, Danny, I can't begin to imagine you fully naked. But- no more imagining. Let's do it! You are about to be eaten alive- but first your expensive filet mignons need to be unwrapped, sauced, sautéed, and then barbecued."  

            Danny knew from the tone of her voice and from the initial exposure of his ass split- however so slight- that she meant business. A female classmate was actually going to underpants him and bare his bottom, like she had done to the little kids for whom she baby-sat. Here in the art room of a high school, she was the sitter and he was the baby.

            There was nothing for Danny to do but to screech at the top of his voice, after which he, once again, broke down in tears- an interesting combination of sentiments.

            “FUCK! FUCK!! FUCK!!!” he screamed into the art room walls.

            “YES! YES! YES!” she celebrated in reply. “YUMMY! YUMMY! YUMMY!”

 

Chapter 19: Naked as a Baby Jaybird

 

            “Please, don’t! Please, don’t! Please, don’t! I’ll give you whatever you want!” He cried.

 

            “But you are, in fact, giving me whatever I want, Danny, by just being here and providing me with lunch- free lunch, at that! Actually, it‘s  more of a feast!”

 

            “But this is so uncool, so embarrassing, so humiliating, so dissing!”

 

            “Yes- isn’t it though! That’s half of the reason I am doing it. The other half is to satisfy my hunger.”

 

            Danny had run out of words.

 

            "For what it's worth, Danny, I feel the same way about you as you do about me. Just thinking about your nude, ill-disciplined tushy as an appetizer makes the tip of my perky nipples and my entire clit tingle with goose bumps- if you know what I mean."

 

            Despite his utter frustration, Danny pleaded with her one last time:

 

            "Please don't do this! You are the most beautiful girl that I know. I adore you. The prettier a girl is, the more embarrassing it is to be stripped and spanked by her. I will die right on the spot if you shame me any further. I can't stand being disrobed by someone as  attractive as you- at least not for belting purposes."

 

            Whether she was experiencing a change of heart or whether she merely wanted to tease him further, I didn't know at the time. But suddenly:

 

            "I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to think very carefully before you answer. Your shrunken store-bought undies are riding on this. If you tell the truth, the underpants stay on; if you lie to me, your boy panties will drop so fast you won't know what happened. Deal?"

 

            He agreed. At this point, he would have agreed to anything. Still, he was cautious and suspicious- as he had a right to be. Angela had a mean and nasty streak to her- but so did he. What a perfect match!

 

            "Again, think before you answer," she warned

 

            "I will; I will," he promised. "And, I will tell the truth!"

 

            "OK- here goes," Angela continued. "If I were to lift my dress right now- and leave it up- and show you my white bikini panties with burgundy red hearts on them- both front and back- and if I told you that you could do anything with my panties that you wanted- would you drop them and then closely examine my never-been-seen-by-a-boy privates in the front and my never-been-seen-by-a-boy, plump but firm buttocks in the back?"

 

            There was dead silence. How should a lad respond to such a question? Of course he would drop them! What hot-blooded heterosexual male wouldn't? How many times he had lain in bed thinking about her for hours on end! For some unknown reason, even at eighteen, he had yet to ejaculate- to reach orgasm. But he knew full well what it was like to get hard. Angela and the boys were right- he had a continuous stiffie that never died. It was a blessing but it was also a curse. It was embarrassing to walk the corridors with a never-ending erection. Even with long shirts and corduroy trousers, the girls could tell he was hard as steel. It got so the girls would lift his shirt and point to his boner. Three girls would take turns grabbing it every chance they could- and they always found it pulsating and rock-hard.

 

            He also knew full well what it was like to continuously ooze pre-cum juices from his flagpole. So far his entire adolescence had been all pre-cum without any cum! He knew so well that marvelous, indescribable, pent-up feeling deep within his soft, teen cullions- even though he was yet to explode at the tip of his regal crown. Would he ever attain orgasm?

 

            To say he wouldn't lower her panties would be a lie- and she would know it- and then strip him for telling a lie. At the same time, if he admitted his life-long desire to see her silk panties and then to uncover everything above and below her waist, she’d have an excuse for doing the same to him. He wanted so urgently to investigate her precious female privates in all of their glory- as did practically every boy in the building. But if he gave the impression that he wanted to see and taste her naked pastries, then wouldn‘t she turn the tables on him and take his? They both wanted each other naked- but she was in control, with the support of his mother and the principal.  This was a no-win situation.

 

            And so, having given the question more thought than he had given any question in his entire life, Danny replied:

 

            "I don't know."

 

            It was, thus far, Danny’s worst mistake of the session, second only to my dad’s police chief and I don’t have time to discuss underwear. Strike three!

 

            I can never be sure whether Danny ever had a level playing field in this contest or whether there was a right answer in all of this. All I know is that Danny's reply was a lie. He did, in fact, know. And, Angela knew that he knew. Consequently, this male adolescent's underpants now belonged to a female adolescent co-ed, a classmate whose panties Danny probably wanted more than anything else in this world but hadn’t admitted to.

 

            “FUCK!” echoed through the room.

 

            “I gwi' strip nakit ez a jaybu'd befo' 'e fedduh' grow!” cried Angela.⁵

            “What???!!!???” Danny reacted.

 

            “For my last birthday my uncle gave me a book of slang expressions:

He will have the humbug qualifications of cow-boy stripped from his poor worthless carcass so quickly that he would feel like a jay bird with his tail feathers gone.” ⁶

 

             Noting that baby jaybirds are especially featherless, Angela announced to the petrified lad that she was about to make him as naked- as featherless- as a baby jay bird:

 

            “It’s close to lunch, Danny, and I have real hankering for your sweet buns, a la bare.”

                There was no scream from Danny this time- merely a loathing, grudging, rancorous, and bitter sigh of fated resignation. The most awful and the most terrible event of his life was about to take place- and there wasn’t a frieken thing he could do about it. His body language exhibited pure exhalation while, in contrast, her body language exuded pure exhilaration. The disparity between the twp was erotic, if not orgasmic!

 

Chapter 20: These Briefs are Going Home with Me into My Panty Drawers

 

            For the first time since early childhood, in the senior year of high school, this physically-adorable but spiritually-mean adolescent gradually felt his tight, white, briefs (alias, tighty whities) slip and slide ever-so-slowly below his waist at the hands of the cutest girl in the school. To make it worse- it all happened at a snail's pace. From the tip of his engorged frankfurter to the baby piggy of each foot, he was impotent to do anything about it. His situational impotence of the moment only reinforced his sexual impotence of the past six years- and, weeping bitterly, he died a thousand deaths as she mercilessly dropped his underpants and exposed his bare buttocks.

            He had lost his underpants to an angel- whatever the color of her wings.

            He was shamed to the hilt while she was as horny as an adolescent girl can get. The diametrically-opposed look on both of their faces said it all. It was Danny’s very worst day; it was Angela’s very best day. The contrast in the two intense experiences was as sexually lascivious as it can get between two hungry-for-each-other and angry-at-each-other adolescents. 

            Angela breathed heavily and excitedly as she happily took a full ten minutes to meticulously remove the struggling lad's wedgied, middle-school, undersized briefs from his waist to his upper-buttocks to his mid-buttocks to his lower-buttocks to his upper thighs to his lower thighs to his knees to his calves to his ankles to the floor- and finally into a plastic bag in her pocket book. Her eyes sparkled as she perused her handiwork of bare, adolescent, male flesh. This lad was fully naked- and it was her doing. She knew it and so did he. To intensify her own pleasure and the helpless lad’s embarrassment, she blatantly squeezed and slapped his fair cheeks, taking delight in the way they bounced like molds of jelly. She  was entranced by the sight of his alluring turnovers.

            “Met de billen bloot!” she barefacedly announced.

            Both Danny and I wondered.

            “With bared buttocks,” she translated. “It comes from a favorite Dutch expression about getting caught with your  pants down. And, may I suggest, Mr. Goodman, that these shapely pastries of yours could easily sustain an average-sized family as either chicken dumplings for the main course or as apple dumplings for dessert! Sweeeeet!”

            Briefs in hand, the girl reached for her handbag:

            "Ya know what, Sweet Cheeks? These briefs are going home with me. I will either hand-wash the little fudgies out of them- or leave them soiled in my top bureau drawer. They will make a terrific souvenir and good company for my bikini panties- two of which you exposed in the auditorium and in the lunch room. Each morning when I change my own panties, I will see yours staring up at me. Imagine, these boy panties all alone in a bureau drawer filled with girl panties. Talk about feeling outnumbered. It will be like the refrigerator light- you never know what’s going on inside once you close the door. And, by the way, any more nonsense from you in the cafeteria or auditorium- and these undies get passed around in the lunch room for major sniffs.”

            Suddenly a flash went off! Then, another flash! And another!

            “Just in case I have to prove that today really happened,” she chided Danny. “Do you know how quickly a girl could place a photo of an asshole’s asshole in everyone’s locker?”

            Danny was beginning to appreciate the expression: she’s got me by the balls!

            Throughout the entire stripping- a total of 600 long seconds- Danny had repeatedly cursed and sworn. What else could he do? There was no further begging- just despair.

            Throughout the disrobing of Danny‘s lower body, Angela had, again, loudly and intermittently, vocalized expressions like YUMMY! and MMMM! and WHAT A VIEW! and DELICIOUS! and OH, MY GOD! The latter occurred at her first and full sight of his well-hung, family jewels (her first sight of any adolescent rocks). She was greatly impressed by his exposed and vulnerable almond joys- at times affectionately caressing them while at other times digging her finger tips deeply into their soft, spongy-like substance. Twice she squeezed them sternly until she could feel them throb. Danny tensed and protested vehemently- which encouraged her to squeeze even longer and harder. She inquired as to why an eighteen-year-older had mere peach fuzz instead of real hair on his nuts deluxe but Dan declined to respond.

            "Just like a baby’s balls," she mocked. "And, as smooth as a baby‘s butt."

            Could any teen feel any more humiliated?

            The more debased Danny felt, the more turned-on she felt.  And, the more turned-on she felt, the more debased he felt.

            She then reverse tea-bagged him- instead of him lowering his balls into her mouth, she brashly raised her yawning mouth toward his balls and then completely engulfed them. Talk about a girl eating everything on her plate! At first she limited her rapid mouth activity and sucking to lips and tongue- granting him a pleasure that caused him to purr like a kitten. But when I heard  him howl and wail, I knew that she had audaciously sunk her teeth into both scrotum and balls. She likes to mix pain and pleasure- at least for her partner. She told me later that her lips and tongue could actually feel his balls throbbing and pulsating- and that it gave her a thrill to know that she had the power- if she chose- to “bite those suckers right off into my mouth and send them down into my tummy.” She shared that, for a moment, she had given “serious thought to slicing both balls in half- very, very slowly so that Danny could gradually suffer their loss.” I don’t ever want Angela mad at me!

            Angela and I then began massaging the lad's small but plump honey-dip doughnuts with oil. She saw to it that he got a clear view of the bottle: Johnson’s Baby Oil. Anything to humble him to the full extent just immediately prior to his first adolescent spanking ever.

 

Chapter 21: Massage His Red Pucker-Upper Until He Soils Himself

 

            At frequent intervals, she fondled her own boobies. Her self-stroking was not lost on Danny.

            "Oiled sweet-rolls tan evenly and hot,” Angela explained to him. “Once we have softened and tenderized these solid but pliant muscles into a fatty spanking texture, we are going to roast your naughty bum until every square inch is a bright cardinal red- a paddling for every kid in this school whom you have bullied. The disciplinarian will use his hand. At first, I will use one of these tooshie-warmers from my handbag and, later, finish off your meaty glutes with my hand. When it comes to punishment, there is nothing quite like the bare hand of a girl on the bare heinie of a boy. It’s a match made in heaven! I've watched Mom with my little brothers and I think I‘ve got the hang of it. It's spanking time, big guy!"

            She opened a maroon-colored, leather handbag and began placing a wide variety of tooshie-warmers on the table. They covered the full gamut in shapes and sizes. Danny immediately recognized a tiny hairbrush that his Mom had threatened to use on his little bum throughout his childhood- but never used. Also catching his eye was a black belt- never used on him- from his Dad‘s uniform; and, a wide strap from their den- a souvenir from his uncle’s barbershop days. 

            “Where did you get those?” he demanded.

            “You know where I got them, dude! Your Mom and I met last night. After the latest incidents in the auditorium and cafeteria, she- and I-  decided that her hairbrush has been idle much too long. She also thought that perhaps this belt and strap need some exercise. And so, she let me borrow them for this special occasion. I like your Mom. She is sooo sweet!”

            Angela then displayed two more straps, one of which was cut into long, thin slits.

            “Oh, I do like this one,” she mused. “Eight spanks in one! My grandfather says that it is especially useful for tanning the sweet spot where the lower hindquarters meet the upper back thighs. He says it takes days before a guy can sit down again on his Easter hams-comfortably, that is. And, this tiny martinet from his stable, isn’t it just adorable? It has ten separate lashes- ten spanks in one. I personally soap-stiffened it for this special occasions. Gramps says that this one’s marvelous for toasting the inner thighs- after you’ve spread the boy’s legs, of course. He warned me to be cautious not to redden the furrowed and wrinkled sac too much. Hmmm. Wonder what he meant by that! On, and I also brought this really lovely riding crop that appears to be the perfect size for your tushie.”

            Angela had Danny’s total attention, though he did not comment on how adorable he found the martinet or on what Gramps meant about caution not to redden the furrowed and wrinkled sac too much. Also, he had heard what a riding crop- or a martinet- could do to a poor lad’s hiney.

            “I brought this picture of three birches, which I find fascinating. Couldn’t bring the birches themselves today. Perhaps some other day- when we know each other better. There are three kinds: maternal birch (a frightener more than a punisher); the school room birch (oh, we must invest in several of these, Mr. Principal, to match the different-sized arses of all the naughty boys);  and, finally, the judicial birch which, sadly enough, is out-dated.”

            She pretended to pout- offering him  a drooped lower lip and a quivering raised upper lip to express such sadness at judicial birch becoming obsolete.

            Poking further fun at him while holding up her hands:

            “Finally, the most delectable of all boy keister-warmers are these. Yup- I’ll say it again: Nothing quite like a girl’s bare hand on a boy’s bare bum for purposes of punishing.”

            Angela then spread his legs far apart and, with unnecessary roughness, parted his supple cheeks in the center with both of her hands, chiding him:

            "At least you have some semblance of hair in your butt crevice."

            With renewed fervor, she then vigorously oiled, kneaded, and manipulated his highly visible and hairless, pink anal muscle- almost to the point of his losing control of his bowels. What really blew him away was her thumb-encirclement of his entire anal entry-exit, followed by a heavy pressure onto the inner circle of his virgin teen hole and inner tunnel. His twitching channel-muscle hungrily sucked in her prying middle finger as a plunger sucks in water. For a brief moment I sensed that he might have enjoyed it until he started complaining:

             "It makes me feel like I have to go."

            That was Angela’s cue. With a quick jab to his supple tummy, she forced his flashy butt even higher into the air. As his rectum opened wide at the luring alimentary canal, she ruthlessly forced three fingers into his yawning hole, and unrelentingly invaded his virgin tunnel.

            “Sorry, bud, no time for Vaseline. You’ll have to settle for the residue of Baby Oil to keep your pucker-upper moist and malleable.”

            Her other hand grappled her own skridt- as both of their inner spaces got generous attention . They both went crackers, he in trepidation and she with glee.

            From the looks of things, Angela intended to massage his now-rose-red, little pucker-upper, both inside and out, until he soiled himself. Now that’s control! She wanted nothing short of total embarrassment for him and total vindictive pleasure for herself. This was a boy who loved to control others (herself included) and who loved to invade others’ privacy (her own included); to cause him to lose control of his own private bowels would be a feather in her cap, pleasing her to no end. It would also make great press around the school.

            But I was ready, if need be, to prevent an unnecessary mess. In my shirt pocket I hosted a masculine blue butt-plug that would fit perfectly into the lad’s petite but deep, waste cavity.

 

Chapter 22: Stick This Thingy Up Your Ass Until It Comes Out of Your Navel

 

            And sure enough, to Angela’s delight, he screamed:

            “Your fingers feels like an enema tube! I can’t hold my bowels any longer!”

            I quickly removed the piercing cork from its container. She grinned broadly, plum-pleased for the once-in-a-lifetime chance to hastily stuff a highly-intrusive rosebud smack dab up his gaping and throbbing asshole. How often does this kind of opportunity knock? She did so without batting an eye lash and with a fierce force that tickled her fancy but violated his rectum. There is nothing quite like a butt-plug slam-dunk to dwindle a young man’s conceit. As she boldly jammed the pyramid insertion up his royal ass, she ceremoniously asserted:

            “With this stabbing stopper, I hereby pierce your stunning anus and butt-fuck your refuse outlet where the sun never shines. May you be full of cork oak rather than full of yourself. And, by the way, publicly lift up my skirt or dress- or drop my panties again (in  public or in private) - and I will stick this thingy up your screaming orifice until it comes out of your belly button.”

            Just exactly where does she get this material? Somebody ought to shoot her writer.

            As the irruptive wad of porous, dark-brown bark gained full admittance into his dark burrow, a thin stream of sweat trickled and oozed from of his rear aperture, making a squishy sound similar to that of tramping through soft mud or plunging a clogged sink. Except for the popping sound of escaping air, the insert entered without resistance- not only because rosebuds are known to do their job but also because Angela spared no force in mercilessly jamming the soft wood up his offended fanny. She banged him like no boy has ever been banged. She was brutal!     

            The look of horror on Danny’s face was indescribable. Angela would always access that look as she captured the moment in timely fashion on Polaroid. I could imagine the cutline:

            Angela finally tires of taking Danny’s shit by putting a stopper in it!

            At one point she accidentally drooled onto the very center of the fleshiest part of his persecuted buttocks. She then used her own spittle to, once again, arduously rub his inner cleft from top to bottom- lingering at his excretory opening- scaring him that she might remove the plug. He didn’t want the plug in, but even less did he want it out.

            Speaking of out, it would be  a formidable challenge to eventually remove the rosebud because Angela had already fulfilled part of her vow to stick this thingy up your orifice until it comes out of your belly button. While it had not reached his navel (yet!), it would not be easy to remove, for she had slammed the penetrating cork to the point where it had become more a part of his intestines than of his rectum. She had strong fingers for a petite adolescent girl.

             The beaming lass had cherished every second just as the crushed lad had dreaded every second. His fresh and still unmarked buns clenched, unclenched, clenched, unclenched, clenched, unclenched- as the tight cork held fast at his nectar pucker-upper entry. Yes- positioning a lad over one knee gives the best view. There is no doubt about that whatsoever.

            “Clench and unclench all you want, mon petit derriere. You can’t hide from Angela.”
            With Danny's trousers gone to the wind- and with his underpants gone into Angela's pocketbook, Angela and I shifted his ensnared body from my left knee to both knees so that his voluptuous haunches- draped across my full lap- would have the full plumpness and roundness necessary to receive the most memorable and painful of thrashings .

            Danny was now certain that he was in store for a ferocious spanking.

 

Chapter 23: I Can Dribble But I Can’t Shoot

 

            But, again, Angela seemed almost as interested in his voluptuous balls as in his tasty cinnamon rolls. From time to time, she cradled his teenage spheres in her hand, softly oiling them in a light but tickling fashion. One last time, she squeezed his ultra-sensitive, cream-producing nuts until they nearly popped- and he screamed what my dad used to call blue murder.

            “It’s time for you-know-what!” Anglie announced. “I want your butt as red as your face and I want your face as red as your butt. Our goal here is to bring all four cheeks to fire-engine red. And, I hereby dedicate this hide-tanning to all of your victims, myself included, and especially for my gay friends whom you have both mentally and physically tortured with your unfairness and abuse.”
            Never has a teen tossed and shouted and cursed so loudly during a solid thirty minutes of pitiless spanking- a full sixty seconds between spanks to make his embarrassment and her pleasure last. Between spanks, Angela rubbed and squeezed his sweet-and-low buns, intensely enjoying the warmth of his mortified flesh in her delighted hand. And, never has a teen's ripely-plucked apples ever displayed such a variety and cross-section of shades of red within the full categories and subcategories of redness.          Over my knee, thanks to the masterful Angela, was a color-chart that was the envy of any exterior-decorating store. We noted that Danny screamed and jumped the most when  on the outer portions of his raspberry buttocks where the flesh is softest and where no muscles can be squeezed to avoid pain. Clenching his tortured cheeks in the center did his outer buttocks area no good whatsoever. And, no amount of wiggling and squirming, tossing and turning, prevented Angela from presenting a superb recipe of hot miniature breads straight from the oven. She delivered a pain to both of his doughy curvatures that stung and smarted.

            During Danny’s tossing and turning, Angela and I got frequent and repeated views of his prized genitals. His adolescent prick was wagging like a dog's tail, flapping like a sail in the breeze. As usual it was hard and stiff. Bouncing profusely between tender tummy and tempting thighs, between belly button and balls, it glistened with a slick lubricant that dutifully moistened his scant, blond pubic locks to the point of saturation. But most delightful of all- although his elongated banana was fully ripe and erect, it was sufficiently free to seek for something or someone to penetrate or impale. The fully-opened eye of his slit not only oozed; it also searched.  

            Danny's thrashing body, loud shrieks, and supplicant pleas for mercy indicated that he frantically wanted the assault on his vibrating, happy-birthday cheeks to stop- especially from Angela's hot hairbrush. His guy apparatus, however, stiff and oozing with body juices, stated otherwise. While his exposed derriere demanded my tanning hand and Angela's pounding hairbrush to stop, his pleasure-seeking pud cried out: keep it coming; oh yes, keep it coming!

            It was a sight that would fill any spanker with a longing desire to swallow the lad's alluring prick whole- to gobble up, ingest, and digest all of his glorious pubescence. I could tell that Angela wanted to stroke and squeeze his quivering, shaking, pulsating, projecting, trembling, and wiggling boner (as she so aptly described it) but she settled for devouring his unique equipment with her eyes. At least for now! It was a sight she would never forget- and to which her memory would often return in the privacy of her own bedroom- enjoying her own particular brand of adolescent, orgasmic pleasure.

            It amazed me- and perhaps Angela too- that such a highly-charged, scorched boner could remain so lusciously hard and so dripping wet for so long a time without exploding and erupting like a volcano. Could it be true that this boy-man's spear was potent to the point of dripping and oozing erections but impotent as to ejaculation.  Is that what they meant by blue balls? Was he able to pre-cum but unable to cum? I had heard of such folks- basketball players who can  dribble but not shoot. The look of mixed pain and pleasure on his face assured me that the youthful missile between his legs would soon answer that question.

            All of a sudden, another knock at the art room door.

            “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” he blared. “Nooooooooooooooooo!”

 

Chapter 24: A Full View of a Dimpled Bubble-Butt in the Shower

 

            “Come in,” I announced, in a melodic voice that infuriated Danny.

            “This had better not be another student- especially a girl!” Danny frieked out.

            Angela giggled: “You’re not going to like this, Danny Boy!”

            Into the room strode a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed  Senior. The High School student sun-beamed with both amusement and satisfaction as she spotted Danny, naked as a jay bird, arrayed over a principal’s knee.

            “Hey, big brother- ten minutes older than I! Mom said you’d be here getting your little tushie warmed royally but I never expected it would be stark naked- on the bare! Wowza! If I had known this I would have brought all the girls from my class.”

            I cannot and will not repeat the barrage of obscenities that came from Danny’s mouth. Let’s just say that his twin sister, Marge, was one of the last persons in the entire world whom the lad wanted to see- and vice versa- at such a time, in this form of undress, and in this position- a plat ventre (face down).

            But sister Marge had an added gift accompanying her: an 8^th-Grader named Larry whom Danny had recently stripped and spanked bare-bottom on the school bus. The visitor was thrilled to see Danny in such a vulnerable and punishable position. Ah, how sweet payback can get.

            “The last time I saw you in your birthday suit, Bro, was yesterday morning when you were getting into the shower!” Marge bragged.

            Danny, at this moment and in this position, forced to switch roles that made him appear more as a little brother than as a big brother, stared at her in utter disbelief.

            “You never saw me naked in the shower!” he blurted.

            “Danny, Danny, Danny! If you only knew how many times I’ve seen your glazed doughnuts stepping into the shower. You’ll remember that my bedroom door adjoins the bathroom. Hello? Earth to Danny? Every morning for the past three months- since the day you stripped me on the bus (her voice choked up) I have waited for the sound of the shower to start. That’s my signal to pop the lock with a large paper clip because you never turn on the shower until you are completely bare-assed and ready to step into the tub. With your back to me, I get the full view of your dimpled bubble-butt. Usually that’s all I can see except for a couple of times when you dropped the soap and bent over. Now that was some view- an added treat.

            Once I even got the full view as you jumped back because the water was too hot- remember that?- and I saw your springy thingy bounce up and down like a puppet on a string. When it stopped bouncing, it pointed straight ahead like an arrow. Quite an erection for a little boy. I agree with the girls at school that you don’t have a bush but that the hair below is a lot thicker than peach fuzz. I also noticed that the hair on your dinghy is a lot darker than the hair on your head. I’ve heard some girls call a boy’s putz a snake- but yours is more of a worm. I should thank you because seeing you like that in the shower gave me, as the librarian would say, a reference for all other boys. Now I know what every boy looks like in the shower- more or less.”

            “You are a frieken pervert!” he blasted out.

            “Yeah, sure, numb nuts! You have a collections of briefs, boxer shorts, and panties from practically every dude and dudette in town- most of them ripped off the person’s bod from a wedgie- but I am the one who’s a pervert?” she replied.

             Danny was speechless. She uttered the words numb nuts so loudly and emphatically that he feared she would do just that to him- make his nuts numb. That’s all he needed, two girls taking turns rolling his two blue balls.

            Marge was on a roll as she continued to deride him:

            “But this is a whole lot better, over the disciplinarian’s knee with your favorite girl Angela and your baby twin sister Marge looking on. Not exactly what I expected, except that now if any girl asks me what you look like, I can give her a tad more detail about your crack than before. Most of the girls already know about your dimples. Dimples drive girls wacky- especially if they‘re where yours are. Of course, I can’t see your package- as some girls call it. She mimicked  their mother’s baby talk of years ago: I see what weally counts-  your wittle, wascally waddling wear end.”

            Despite Danny’s pleas to the contrary, his twin drew closer.

            “Geez- how did your butt get so strawberry-red?” she asked.

            Angela grinned demonically- as if to take credit for the full magnum opus.

             “You must have been a very bad boy. Did mom catch you with those magazines under your mattress? I swear it wasn’t me who told. Honest to God! But from now on you better not taunt me about anything or I will tell all the kids how I caught you being paddled- on the bare!”

            Angela handed Marge a Polaroid pic taken moments before.

            “Keep this in your brother-sister repertoire and feel free to make copies anytime he gives you a hard time. With this pic, you now have your big brother, shall we say, by the balls? The pubescent girl happily and gratefully inserted the photo into her waiting bra where it would be safe until such time as she felt the need to use it. It was a kind of insurance.

            “What’s that brown thingy sticking inside of your petulla, big Bro? It looks like the top of one of Dad’s wine bottles,” she queried.

            “Just clogging up the pipes so they don’t leak,” Angela joked.

            “I need a little favor, Angela,” said Marge.

            “Ask away,” replied Angela.

            Danny groaned exasperatingly! Any favor that either of them did for the other in this setting had to be at his expense.

 

            Groan!

 

Chapter 25: You Missed Six Spots That the Martinet Will Surely Correct

 

            “Well, you missed six spots. There are two places on Sweetie Pie’s bare that are watermelon pink but still not red; and, there’s one spot in the crack that is still white. And, you barely touched his upper thighs where they meet the lower buttocks- the sweet spot. I think I know how to correct that and make it better.”

 

            With Angela’s approval to use any instrument she chose, little sister Marge grasped the martinet on the nearby table and fearlessly approached Bro as he vociferously protested.

 

            “I’ve used this on a horse’s rump before but never on a boy’s rump,” she teased. “Trust me to do a good job!”

 

            Marge carefully wound up her 3-2 pitch, aimed ever-so-carefully,

and came down on his twin Red Delicious with three stunning smacks that reverberated throughout the room. It did her proud to contribute three perfectly-placed strikes to her brother’s awaiting bum: one to the left side of his crack; one on the top, outer portion of his left cheek and one on the top, outer portion of his right cheek. She eyed his sweet spot, still virgin white and her pupils widened with delight.

 

            This requires a special snap of the wrist to ensure that this little fellow doesn’t sit down for a week. The first of the three thrashes made minced meat of the entire lower butt. The crop bit deeply into his flesh and his reaction assured her it was a direct hit. Before bro could catch his breath, she painted the most vivid stripe across his lower thighs, just above the knees. The expression on her face confirmed that the last, up-and-coming blow would be the payback-time coup de grace. It was a direct hit to the sweet spot, nailing both the lower buttocks and the upper thighs ever so satisfyingly. Marge had literally given Danny six of her very best tastes of the strap.

 

            While the boy writhed and smarted in agony, Angela pointed to two salacious spot on his male anatomy that were neither white nor red nor pink. It was just too tempting to ignore. The two girls nodded to one another in agreement.  In a flash, Angela grabbed Danny’s knees and spread them apart, opening his upper inner thighs widely. The next instant, Marge snapped the end of the dressage whip deep into the crotch where half of the individual leather strips caught Danny’s light brown, crumpled scrotum which- up until then- had been protecting the family’s ancestral seed  He didn’t expect the balls to be included in this package deal- but they got kissed good.

 

            The other half of the leather strips, like a smart bomb, sought and found its intended target: the extremely sensitive anus muscle, slicing into it like a hot knife cuts into butter. The final connections between martinet and bare boy - squarely on the housed nuts, and directly to the anus muscle- drew the loudest shrieks from the gyrating victim. His palatable, fertile plums and diamond-shaped pucker-upper had instantly turned to several shades of deep purple. Girl-Mission accomplished.

 

            “The stinging leather to your sweet spot was for the bus incident. This last one, to the sac, balls, and one-eyed rectum was for all of the telephone calls you screwed up for me. Are you going to hang up on any of my friends again- or insult them?”

 

            She threateningly waved the martinet in the air, as if to convey another blow to  any of his vulnerables.

 

            “Yes- I mean No! I will not hang up on any more of your friends.”

 

            Like an office worker at 5:00 p.m., Marge proudly viewed her handiwork and stated matter-of-factly:

 

            “Now that everything from waist to knees is bright red, my work here is done! I‘m out of here. Tootaloo!”

 

            Surprising her brother with three final smacks of her bare hand to his already-pounded buttocks, to get the feel of it, she strolled out of the art room- armed with both picture and knowledge- a stunning pose of her bro tucked neatly and securely away inside her cupped bra and the knowledge of three bad-boy magazines tucked away under his mattress at home. Things were going to change a lot around her house from now on because she- not Danny- would be handing out the daily wedgies. Furthermore, from now on, any underpantsing that took place in the Goodman home would involve boxer shorts and briefs instead of panties.

 

            Suddenly, out of nowhere, came the loud snap of a tarse which landed directly on the mid-section of Danny’s buttocks. His naked cheeks flinched and recoiled like a bed spring.  It was the very first welt on his buns and it stung fiercely, turning the center to a scathing purple. Danny scarcely had time to scream the loudest cry of his entire ordeal before another snap of the wrist turned the sweet spot into the same shade of purple.

 

            “What the hell! Who the hell!” Danny bawled in utter agony as three more direct hits from the same tarse reigned down, turning virtually everything on his buttocks and thighs to exotic tinges of deep scarlet. I have always preferred red buttocks myself, but this experience has made a believer out of me.

 

            Eighth-grader Larry was obviously a sleeper. He had been quiet thus far but not any longer. Larry had not only lost his briefs to Danny on the bus- he had lost them in full view of his little sister and in full view of his girl friend. It had been such a nightmare for him that he had remained out of school for a month from the sheer embarrassment of it all. In addition, he had been forced to streak from the bus a quarter mile home after Danny had claimed his underpants and had refused to return them.

 

            “Everything is purple except his ball sac!” Angela noted.

 

            Danny protested wildly as both girls grabbed his legs, separating them well over ninety degrees. Larry took careful aim.

 

            “I’ll land only one on your scrotum and nuts, Danny!” he promised, “but I’ve got to tell you that it will be a real doozie!”

 

            With that he placed a perfect strike to the balls that sent Danny into a distress like none other. The spankee wailed with bounteous tears as his entire body quivered and shook from the pain. It was by far the best shot of the day to the lad’s flesh. As a going-away present, Larry took out a small salt shaker- he had received a super tip about salt and pain- and abundantly sprinkled the entire saline product onto Danny’s buttocks and balls. He then rubbed the salt into both bollocks and buttocks wounds despite Danny’s pleas for mercy. The Middle School chap would leave this scene a very happy camper.

 

            As Larry departed, there was heavy sobbing over the principal‘s knee. Contrastingly, Angela sun-beamed.

 

Chapter 26: Tickle-Torture of the Bad Little Piggies and Arches

 

            Angela then asked me for permission for one final treatment on our boy.

            "Earlier you tickled his smooth arm pits and his yummy tummy- but what about his dogs? Let’s torture his feet.”

            Danny went bonkers at the sound of the word feet! Angela had struck a raw nerve- for she knew from Danny's family that he couldn't stand having his feet touched by anyone- not even a doctor. And this young bitch was going to tickle his feet?

            “No- please not the arch! Nobody can ever touch my arch!”

            The lad cursed with vulgarity after vulgarity- but to no avail. Changing Angela’s mind would have been equivalent to convincing a cannibal to turn down the heat on the boiling pot. She greedily smacked her lips with full contentment and, with a snickering grin, signaled Danny that she was about to totally consume his arches and toes.

            With one hand, she imprisoned his left foot so firmly that it could hardly breathe. Then, her other hand, ever-so-slowly, began to remove the left sock, not so much with her finger tips as with her jagged and prickly nails. She ceremoniously started at the back of the ankle and headed for the heel. Thus far, the affliction, though intense, was bearable. But not for long. She had obviously done this before and was going for the full treatment. 

            Her fingers had one task to perform; her thumb had another. As her fingers briskly exposed the lower portion of his ultra-sensitive arch, the thumb pitilessly and boldly burrowed deeply into the arch’s shuddering flesh. The tender muscles contracted, expanded, contracted, expanded … oscillating and screaming all the while.

            Once the sock was completely removed, her fingers and thumb joined forces to wolf down this adolescent delicacy of arch meat. The boy went into a whirlwind frenzy.

            I had to hold Danny down twice as forcefully to prevent him from going berserk as Angela mercilessly and cruelly attacked the bend in the foot with her long fingernails. She had sharpened them especially for this occasion. The reaction was instantaneous.

            "I'll go insane," Danny bellowed.

            "Yes- you probably will," she replied. "But it will turn me on!"

            Danny spazzed out!

            The vindictive lass took long, slow strokes on the arch’s soft meat that never toughens because it never touches the floor or ground. She mixed them up with fast and furious strokes. I thought the boy would pass out.

            Have you ever watched- up close- the tickling of anyone’s arches- especially of an individual who can‘t stand to have his feet touched by anyone? It is a maddening event for the ticklee but a celestial experience for the tickler. As Angela slowly and brutally scraped the bottom of Danny’s especially tender arches with her cruel, spiny finger tips, I actually witnessed each and every muscle of the arch crying out in agony as spasm after spasm followed her sharp finger nails wherever they intruded.  No sooner did one muscle get a chance to relax when another muscle was attacked. Every muscle in his arch revealed its utter frailty to her cruel touch. Her deeply-invasive nails led to a cumulative seizure that drove the anguished lad up one side of the art room wall- and down the other side. Every square inch of ultra-soft tissue rebelled. It was as if each individual cell took turns shuddering, tremoring, and contracting. And, when the sadistic girl suddenly converted slow motion into rapid motion, the cells individually and collectively rippled and twinged with a violence.

            When she reached the toes, The little witch bent each toe as far backward as each would go- and then (despite Danny’s cries) a tad further- exposing every ounce of flesh for her fingers’ consumption. She proceeded to dig her nails deeply into the tender meat beneath the big toe of the same foot with long, slow strides. She then picked up the speed of her tickle-torture. Danny went ape, his arms flailing in all directions. But his feet were trapped and locked in from the tip of each piggy to the very heel. One by one, each of the remaining delicate toes met its individual doom as her girl fingers devoured each little piggy:

            “This little piggy went to market; this little piggy stayed home; this little piggy had roast beef; this little piggy had none; this little piggy was a bad little piggy and he cried al the way home.”

            At the word home, of course, she suddenly switched gears, grasping and squeezing his stomach muscles until he begged for mercy. But there was no mercy. After painstakingly working on the soft tissue between each toe,  she finished off the toes on the left foot by bending back the baby-toe pinky until I thought it would snap. Then, placing it in her mouth, she bit down so hard that embedded hickeys were very much visible.

            Angela found both pleasure and amusement at the boy’s horrendous reaction. For her, the event lasted for a short fifteen minutes but, for him, the experience lasted an eternity. Throughout the morbid tickling of his rebellious arches, Danny did more than cry; he wept and wailed in a high-pitched shrill that was nothing less than chilling and macabre.

            “Your screams, Danny, remind me of those pitiful cries in the movie Orca when a mother whale sorely grieved for her baby as it was hoisted on the boat’s lift to die,” the vindictive and masochistic lass shared. “But, like the captain of that boat, dear boy, this girlie girl that you like to hassle and annoy has no mercy. I am going to find every sensitive and tender nerve- and bone (tee hee)- in your petit  but adorable body and gulp it down with my eyes, fingers, and mouth.”

            For the boy victim, the tickle-torture of the toes and arch was a Freddy Krueger Nightmare fantasy become real- except that the claws tormenting his besieged feet were not Freddy’s but rather Angela‘s. She had definitely done this before. She had certainly practiced this on someone before. Her classmates at pajama parties? Her peers at summer camp? Undeniably, she knew what she was doing. Like Danny’s uncanny gift for surreptitiously dropping panties in the cafeteria, she was goooood!

            Next to exposing his bare lower cheeks, the tickle-torture of his totally vulnerable and sox-less feet was perhaps the worst thing any girl could do to any beleaguered boy. And, she knew it!

            Danny was relieved when Angela announced that she was finished- but she soon qualified her statement:

            "I am finished with the left foot. Now it's time for the right foot. That's what I love most about feet- there are two of them. Ah- let‘s bend back this other big toe all the way and guzzle through the tender flesh beneath it with my newly-polished nails. Mmmmm! And then we will do the same for the  other toes so that they don‘t become jealous."

            I won't even begin to describe Angela's torturous offensive against the horrified lad's right foot. But even then the spiteful girl wasn't finished. She practiced on Danny what she had often practiced on other girls- she went for the knees and squeezed each of them with both hands until Danny went into a full frenzy bordering on absolute madness. She knew the pressure points at the knees, and she penetrated them with full force.

            But Angela had a most special treat that mind-boggled both Danny and myself. Having finished her fingernail torture on each of the delicate ten toes, on the sensitive meat beneath each of the toes, and on the convulsively spastic arches, she reached for the riding crop and set her sights one more time on the  paroxysmal arches. Imitating Larry in his expert crack of the tarse on Danny’s buttocks, balls, and thighs, she landed a clout onto the ultra-tender meat of both arches- being certain to catch, at the very tip of the tarse, the ends of the toes. Again, as direct hits, they sent him over the edge in unbearable woes.

            The adolescent bully had been bullied well beyond his limits- and by a furious adolescent girl who had made him pay dearly for lifting her skirt, exposing her panties, and furtively dropping her panties in public. But she still wasn’t finished.

            You can only begin to imagine the strategic positioning of Danny’s white-pink-red ass as Angela tickle-tortured his feet. It was comparable to its status during the disciplinarian’s earlier tickle-torture of helpless arm pits and vulnerable tummy. His flexible cheeks bounced up and down- at times, so high in the air that his ass crack opened wider than ever before and his sensational anus winked widely at its female tormenter. Throughout the agonizing foot torture, Danny’s bouncing buttocks literally begged the animated co-ed to have another shot at his turnip-red rump.

 

Chapter 27: The Timely Return of Sister Marge

 

            Marge, Danny’s twin sister, had returned to the art room just in the nick of time to observe Danny’s squishy and squashy buttocks muscles reacting to Angela’s distressing torment of piggies and arches. Gaping at his wiggling rear, she couldn’t help but  note that his sweet and savory crepes ordinaire had gone from a la vanille to a la buckwheat within the hour. Angela certainly had a knack for turning a boy’s butt into a variety of recipes and colors, some more appetizing than others- but all rather persuasive and pleasing to any girl’s eye. Perhaps Marge could add some peaches and honey of her own to the recipe.

            If her brother’s warm-ivory cheeks looked charming in the bathroom shower adjoining her bedroom, they looked even more endearing in the capable hands of pastry-chef Angela. She truly knew how to knead a boy’s dough. Perhaps, for the first time in her life, Marge would give her ten-minutes-older brother an over-the-knee experience she could record in her diary- and he in his journal. Wasn’t that the least she could do for a brother who had stripped her on the bus?

            Marge, surprising Danny with her presence, winked at me and Angela, abruptly removed her naked-as-a-jaybird brother from my knee, and stood him before her. The lad melted on the spot- but did not resist. Given his lengthy ordeal- from the time I unbuckled his belt to this very moment of standing before his twin sister stark stripped- he was in a most resigned and surrendered mood. He could feel the heat in both girls’ eyes as they slowly and thoroughly perused the entire front of his body- from feet to calves to knees to peach-fuzzed inforcatura to tummy to pecs to mouth and, finally, to shy and timorous boyish eyes- and then back down his body again. On both ogling journeys, their pupils widened and lingered at his crotch. Mean or not, nasty or not, bully or not- he was absolutely adorable! He reminded them of pictures and statues of Greek gods. As he stood before both girls, completely helpless and vulnerable, with both hands atop his head, his tasty todger- leaking an abundance of glistening, transparent juices - continued to live up to its reputation as a perpetual, unrelenting, and raging hard-on. God, he was beautiful!

            The full embarrassment of the moment suddenly struck Danny as his face became petrified and his eyes teary. There was a shade of red on his face that we hadn’t seen before. He was utterly humiliated- as they would say in Math, to the nth degree. It was time. Marge looked him squarely in the eye and said:

            “Remember the bus? How you feel right now is how I felt then. It’s a rare time, Danny, when you can appreciate how other people feel but I think this is one of those times.”

            Again, she stared at his stiff prick which pointed toward her ever so wondrously. As its slick fluids continued to flow, she got the message that Danny had heard her with both ears and with both balls. There was a point at which she wanted to punish him further by squeezing his nuts until he went through the ceiling- and the exhausted lad, at this point, probably would have let her- but what she had to say at that very moment belonged on a different part of his anatomy.

            Offering no resistance whatsoever, he was putty in his sister’s hands as she determinedly placed him across her lap and hand- him seven times- the number of days she had missed school, the number of days she had cried herself to sleep after being so violently dissed on the bus. She then added one for good luck- the paddling that both Mom and Dad should have given him a long time ago.

            And yet, for all of her determination to spank him harshly, the feel of having him submissively and helplessly draped across her lap suddenly surfaced a new awareness in her. And so, she did not really paddle him at all. There was more love than anger behind each smack; there was more compassion than hostility behind each slap. In fact, she squeezed his pulpy muffins more than anything else as if attempting to massage some sense into them- some common sense into Danny. And, I am pleased to say, Danny seemed to both understand and appreciate that.

            Strangely enough, at that moment in time, brother and sister had never been closer. They both felt a love for one another they hadn’t felt since infancy. She returned her ten-minutes-older brother to his feet, carefully placed a towel in front of his privates, and kissed him affectionately on his forehead. She then departed, teary-eyed. But not before he had kissed her back.

 

Chapter 28: Ramming the Cork-Stopper Forcibly Up Your Ass

 

            Watching Marge “spank” Danny turned Angela on something fierce. And so, it was most understandable that Angela would want to mercilessly spank him again- this time across her knee and by hand rather than by hairbrush. I allowed her to do so but only for a half-dozen smacks. I love pink and crimson-red buttocks- but not purple ones, and these were sufficiently lavender.

            What she really wanted to do- more than thrash him further- was to massage and caress his red and bruised cheeks with a renewed affection for him. Had she learned something from Marge? She also wanted to feel his firm and petulant peter rubbing against her legs and to get another bird's-eye view of his once-arrogant balls and anal muscle. She was wildly infatuated with his yawning asshole. She wanted to continue cuddling and stroking his cute little behind indefinitely but I told her the clock was running out. It was getting late.

            And so, she ordered him over her knee for a finishing touch of harsh spanks. He obliged her by removing himself from my lap and walking over to her while modestly attempting to cover his privates with both hands. His cover was rather successful until he stood immediately before her. She jabbed him under both unsuspecting arm pits, knowing full well that such a jolt would force his hands away from his crotch. And there he was- in all of his masculine glory- exactly as the boys had described him in the locker room: pubic hair that could hardly be called a bush but well beyond the peach fuzz stage; crotch hair that was a deeper and darker blond than the hair on his head; and, (drum roll) that oft-mentioned and fantasized-about perpetual, unrelenting, and raging hard-on pointing directly at her lap. It was leaking profusely beyond the purple crown at the red tip. There was nothing unusual about its size or shape or length. But the thought that it never died- that it never got soft- mesmerized her. None of the reports had been exaggerated. He was everything they said he was: an incredibly edible hunk. It was the best forcature she had ever seen. Indeed, it was the only forcature she had ever seen. For all of her flirtations and bantering, Angela remained a total virgin. She highly approved of Danny’s statuesque shape and form- especially that of his leaking and pointed arrow. Yes, indeed, for all of his faults, Danny was, in some ways, a straight shooter.

            Once Angela had suckered his hands away from his amazing crotch, making his entire bod fair game for her eyes, he made no further effort to conceal his procreative gifts but kept his head lowered. He reluctantly but cooperatively draped himself over her lap, moving his body forward until both hands touched the floor- which, of course, gave Angela a perfectly vertical view of his hiney. She opened her legs ever so slowly, just enough to allow his rock-hard cock to drop between her thighs and to penetrate them. She then closed her legs firmly, compressing and confining his masterful boner between the flesh of her strong femoral muscles.

            After giving his dripping pecker several squeezes from her rigid, inner thighs, she moved his body forward until his restless tallywacker fell between her tremulous knees- enabling her to give his meaty frankfurter a much more vigorous massage than the thighs could ever accomplish. Still, it was a difficult decision to move his erect weenie from her inner thighs to her knees because her thighs were much closer to her throbbing crotch than her knees. And, a handsome boy’s weenie is much more suited  to a girl’s crotch than to a girl’s knees. But she was convinced that she could make him come by digging her knee bones into his coveted bone. Voila: one boy bone trapped between two girl bones- three bones made for each other. Both boy and girl sighed heavily. She was certain that it was just a matter of time before he blissfully shot his hot load all over her knees and legs. She would welcome that most graciously. Her quivering and quavering crotch would be even more amenably receptive to such a sizzling ejaculation. Yummy!

            Perhaps some day Danny’s searing discharge would be released ever so forcefully into her. Yes- she would like that; she would like that a lot. Double yummy!

            At the same time, Angela had a mean streak of penis envy within her- sometimes wishing that girls should be able to slice off a boy’s penis if and when he got too uppity. That would certainly be one way to make everyone equal. And, it would certainly put a boy in his place, now wouldn’t it! Or maybe she would let him squirt her insides with his warm juices and then cut off his pecker before it had a chance to let loose inside of any other girl. That would be a fool-proof way of holding onto a guy- would it not?

            Her flaying of his alluring cheeks was short but intense. From the look on both of their faces one could easily deduce that their focus was not so much on his romping rump as on the vigorous action taking place between her knees and amongst his pubes. They enjoyed an unspoken and unique kind of paradise. Both were very wet in the right places.   

            Still, very much a lass of mixed feelings, she gave his helpless balls one last squeeze- the worst one ever- and he howled loudly from the unexpected, excruciating pain.

            Captivated by his agony, she still wanted more- more embarrassment for him and more pleasure for herself. She bent over, squeezed the center of his left buttock to form a heightened bulge in his curvy rump, and engulfed the raised flesh with her mouth. Relieved that the whipping had ceased- and resigned to another slobbering kiss from her mouth- Danny relaxed. But not for long. This “kiss“ would be different.

            Once her lips, mouth and tongue had indulged in boy flesh to their full satisfaction, they defaulted to her teeth. Danny and I both bellowed a resounding NO- but it was too late. A healthy portion of his left cheek writhed in unbearable pain as her ravenous teeth seemed to plunge deeply into his soft pubescent flesh. She moaned pleasurably with a spine-tingling aura of conquest, like a starving lion successfully plunging its fangs into a helpless prey. This was Eve, sinking her teeth deeply into the forbidden fruit of the tree- more accurately, sinking her teeth into Adam’s precious apple. But Adam was nowhere to be found; it was Danny’s apple that was ripe to her taste. I interfered no further for fear that I would anger her into clenched jaws that would rip his plump cheek from his body and into her mouth and stomach. I truly feared she’d eat him alive.

            As it turned out, she did no more damage to his flavorsome buttocks than most cats do to most chipmunks; her teeth had played with the raised flesh rather than devoured it. Granted there were teeth marks- and granted that she appeared as bloated as from a full meal- and granted that the groans of satisfaction rising from the depths of her throat were extreme. Nevertheless, these edible scones would heal in due time- to be oiled, baked, and eaten again.

            I felt obligated to address Angela:

            “I must confess, young lady,  that there was a moment in time in which I, as disciplinarian of this school, was seriously tempted to switch sides at half-time, that is, to put you over my knee, to lift your skirt, and to drop your panties- after a healthy wedgie, of course. I would have truly enjoyed that. And, for Danny to have watched that would have been the equivalent of eternal bliss. Take me now, Lord!  But, at least for today, Danny not you are the soup du jour.”

            This was no time to mince words.         

            “However, trust me, Angela. Someday I will find a reason; somehow I will find a way; somehow I will even get parental permission to paddle your sweet little ass until it falls from your hips- because you are as mean and ornery as Danny will ever be.”

            She sneered at me deridingly.

            “Immediately thereafter, we shall discover how you like a wooden cork stuffed up the gaping crevice in your ass- mercilessly penetrating your anal muscle, nose-diving deeply into your anxiously-awaiting rectal cavern, and traveling forcefully in the direction of your belly button. Perhaps we will ram the cork-stopper so forcibly up your vindictive ass that it will, indeed, not stop until it kisses your navel. I suspect that Danny will be more than pleased to assist. On that day, the new battle cry will be:

            Yummy yummy for MY tummy tummy!

            Yummy yummy for DANNY’S tummy tummy!”

            My mind then conjured up a most fascinating alternative to the cork: a spectacular image of the beautiful but irate Angela sitting on top of a Christmas tree, her legs and cheeks spread far apart to display her angel hair, impaled on the longest and sharpest of branches with her hands tied behind her back. Sit tight, Angela, while we see if we can get this thing to rotate.

            And, then it happened!!! An adolescent miracle!!!

            Danny, still hosting a perpetual hard-on which had been frustratingly deprived of six years of absent ejaculatory action, screamed with both fear and joy:

            “I‘M GOING TO SQUIRT! LET ME UP! I’M GOING TO SQUIRT! I NEED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM! PLEASE!”

            Was this a trick?

 

Chapter 29: Scents of Adolescent Hormones Fill the Art Room

 

            Angela made the decision. She not only let him up; she helped him up. She had never actually seen an adolescent squirt. She had fantasized about hundreds but only in her dreams. 

            Danny bolted from her lap and stood tall- taller than he had ever stood. And, so did his exceptionally aroused prick! He started to leave for the bathroom but then stopped short.
            Facing Angela directly, he stammered: “It’s too late!”
            I observed that Danny was still hard as a rock, his firm tool pointed at a ninety-degree angle, straight at Angela. Moments earlier, his hard-on had been at full staff but apparently Angela's hand-spanks, nut-squeeze, tickle-torture, and flesh-probing mouth had lost him a full forty-five degrees.

            Nonetheless, he continued to pop a magnificent stiffie of erective tissue.

            The tip of his penile head was dripping profusely, having already saturated the small bits of curly blond hair adorning his privates. The thin stream of blond pubic hair leading from the base of his stiff johnson to his belly button, itself still red from tickle-torture, was laced with adolescent cream. His crop of pubic hair wasn’t sufficient to be called a bush- as most girls had learned from another boy who shared a locker with Danny-  but it certainly went beyond the peach fuzz stage of development.

            Angela's once-dry lips were now salivating. Her voracious, pubescent eyes widened as they feasted on the teenybopper’s appealing forquilha of rounded balls, scant but lovely pubic hair, and stiff pecker- still perpendicularly aimed directly at her twat at a perfect right angle.

            Spontaneously, her hand reached through her skirt for her own crotch and, fiercely grabbing her petite three-inched mount with its less than one-inched diameter as well as her pea-shaped glans, she bent over with a stifled but audible cry that began with dreamy sighs and developed into intense moans and groans of delight. She then reached under her skirt and frenziedly dropped her liberated panties to her ankles in order to masturbate and to feel, from her drenched pussy, the flow of thick sap that just kept on coming from her feminine innards. She had no inhibitions whatsoever about celebrating this event as she kicked her panties to the other end of the room. How so much incredibly intense pleasure can come from such a miniature plateau has always baffled me.

            All the while, her eyes remained transfixed on Danny's growing and raging hard-on which had immediately leapt from 90-degrees to 12:00 o‘clock high again. His stiff prick was now pointing toward the ceiling, pre-cum AND pre-ejaculatory juices oozing generously from his bubbling slit.
            Angela's violent orgasm was not lost on Danny as his entire body tensed up. The muscles of his  frolicking buttocks became extremely taut; his facial head thrust back as far as physically possible; and he squealed piercingly and deafeningly with pure ecstasy and elation as his eighteen-year-old erection finally erupted, ejaculated, fired, squirted, overflowed, shot its load- and everything else a healthy boner does- some twelve thrusts of white and sticky seminal fluids, partially on the floor but mostly onto Angela's exposed tummy, privates, and upper thighs. Twice he got her in the face. Direct and powerful hits! Hip-Hip-Hooray!

            With each thrust his entire body joined his pelvis as he pumped the air with all of the energy a teen can muster. Each thrust grew stronger rather than weaker. Strangely enough, not once did he touch his volcanic shaft but rather fucked the air with all his might. His maddening humping ranged from an almost sit-down position to an almost back-flip as his entire body arched like never before. He shuddered from head to foot with ultimate delight as he repeatedly screamed one word- and one word only- with each of the dozen thrusts of his pelvis:

            "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!"
            The look of surprise on Danny's face during his sexual release revealed what Danny would later acknowledge- that he was, indeed, a late bloomer- that, throughout his adolescence, he had experienced continual erections and oodles of pre-cums, but no slippery, ejaculatory juices  and certainly no orgasms- at least not wet ones. This was his very first wet orgasm ever- and all in the context of being wedgied, pantsed, tickle-tortured, underpantsed, ball-squeezed, oil-massaged, butt-plugged, utterly humiliated, and  royally on the bare buttocks by, and in the presence of, a teenage girl who was as nasty and vengeful as she was beautiful and attractive. Whatever had blocked his anxious pecker from firing during all of those frustrating adolescent years- a female classmate had finally released his firing pin.

            And he was frenetically grateful!
            He kissed Angela on the lips and then inserted his potent tongue to the very back of her throat. She swallowed it whole and then donated her own tongue to the cause. The lad then put both of his hands on his head and, in total surrender to her, invited her to place him in the OTK spanking position again- over both of her knees. She gladly obliged him and, with each additional spank, he rewarded her with an additional thrust of boy power against her lap. It was the first nookie for both of them- and it was grand! Further excited by his additional thrusts and further dampened by his semen, she came to repeated and intense orgasmic heights.

            Angela then gave Danny a further gift. Grasping his dripping, still-erect tool in both her hands, she sucked him off in her mouth and then milked him until he seemed bone-dry. She then removed her blouse and bra, took his face in her hands, and led his hungry mouth to her naked, awaiting teats. Her frisky nipples were as erect as his saturated stick. He ate her alive- while remaining hungry for more. She then, ever so affectionately, gripped his dripping dink and rubbed its yearning head across her pointed nipples and full knockers.  It was a phenomenal exercise in flesh devouring flesh.

            Her panties already down, Angela then lifted her skirt, revealing to Danny a drenched vagina entry and an enlarged, blood-gorged clitoris. She then impaled herself onto Danny's inviting stiffie- sending both of them into clouds and screams of ecstasy. The scent of adolescent hormones filled the art room as they both passionately copulated for the very first time. It appeared that all was forgiven and forgotten as Danny finally got to see what was under the skirt that he had so frequently lifted- and under the panties that he had so successfully and sneakily dropped.

            Sadly, however, Danny got much more than his due that day.

 

Chapter 30: Servicing My Favorite Dick

            As we left the art room, Angela somehow managed to bump into Danny, still naked and still in his first orgasmic trance. He tripped over a box of recently-delivered drawing paper and landed flat across the paper cutter that had been carelessly left open.
            Initially, there was no damage to Danny as he fell onto the art utensil's metal cutter. It was when he tried to get up that the tragedy occurred. Angela, after crashing into him, had gone over to help him rise but somehow, and for some reason, his boner- still red and dripping wet- got wedged between the steel cutter blade and the wooden base. As his right hand sought balance to stand up, he obviously pressed down on the blade and severed his still-quivering pecker at its very base. He had unwittingly, it would seem, sliced off his own semen-shooter with his own hand.

            As I look back, I could have sworn that, at least for a brief moment, a smirk had crossed Angela's face. I immediately dismissed it. How could that be after such pleasurable oral and genital sex between the two?

            The lad's poor balls received a similar and dissimilar fate: they were both sliced in half by the devastating blade. As if the make-shift guillotine wasn't satisfied with Danny's irreplaceable prick, the harsh blade also coveted both of his equally irreplaceable macadamias, chopping each down the center, tasting both the nerve centers and the remnant white fluids still lingering deep within his precious nuts.

            Later, Angela said that as she gazed with awe at Danny's bloody boner on the art room floor, she had observed one final thrust from a matchless prick that would never thrust again. She said that she was grateful that the boy who had exposed her panties in the auditorium and who had removed her panties in the cafeteria had become the first and only boy to penetrate her - the only boy upon whose wondrous shaft she had been impaled. She spoke of a sense of pride in being the only person to have ever tasted Danny's dick: a dick severed by a steel blade; a sugar-coated dick which throbbed for the last time on an art room floor instead of inside a human cavity; a dick that would never be tasted by another.

            Weeks later, I learned that Angela was the student who had left the paper cutter unlocked and open on the art table. A teacher had reminded her at the end of class to secure it but she had obviously ignored his instruction. I also learned that Angela had placed the box of art drawing paper on the floor next to the paper cutter, just hours before bumping into Danny and sending him sprawling onto the cutter. But the real clincher was this: just days before, Angela had been seen sharpening the paper cutter. When asked why she was sharpening a school's paper cutter to improve its hacking power, she had sneered:            "I'm servicing it for my favorite dick!"
            Danny’s very first orgasm- delayed until he was eighteen- was also his very last orgasm. To this day, he doesn't remember his hand touching the steel blade at all, let alone slicing off his throbbing member, though he does recall Angela bumping into him and helping him up.
            The good news is that Danny never again had a hard-on for bullying other kids.
            The sad news is that Danny never had any kind of a hard-on again.

 

Chapter 31 Angela’s Long-Awaited Panties and Bra: Dropped All the Way!

 

            Yesterday, another boy lifted Angela's mini-skirt at a full assembly in the auditorium, once again revealing her smooth and fleshy upper thighs and tight bikini panties. Alerted in advance, every boy was leering, expecting something more because this time, they had been promised a lot more than a peek; this time they had been assured of much more than idle panties; this time they had been  assured that their hungry dicks would get the fullest of satisfaction.

            The boys’ confidence that things would be very much different today was due to the fact that today’s gathering of seniors would be teacher-less, i.e, the student president and student counsel would be leading the assembly to discuss proposed ideas regarding a field trip. Teachers would be available if they were needed and called upon. This was the day on which no one would need or call upon a teacher. Absolutely no one- except Angel, who would be in no position to fetch one.

            Some were so near to the scene of the skirt-raising that they easily spotted thin slivers of brunette, pubic hair on either side of her skrev, and a sopping wet spot in the center of her silk, powder-blue panties with red fringes. Lips smacked; tongues rolled; teeth clenched; eyes widened; ears perked; noses sniffed; eye brows raised; mouths- as well as dicks and vaginas- drooled, dribbled, salivated, and slobbered in mesmeric and compelling anticipation. The highly-provocative, sopping-wet spot became an instantaneous magnet, drawing scores of males- and females- to ogling the school’s beauty queen and her well-endowed snatch.

            Never before had such a small location on such a sizeable school grounds managed to captivate, entrance, and spellbind so many. If it was truly impolite to stare, the auditorium was filled with rude students. Hypnotically drawn to Angela’s scantily-clad female package resting slightly south of her exposed belly button- definitely an innie as opposed to an outie- the adolescent gathering physically moved toward the charismatically charming sweetheart- barely turned eighteen years- and devotedly gawked and gazed. The dazed assemblage could not remove its collective eyes from her scarcely-covered feminine crotch. It is no exaggeration to note that all students were well into the process of totally undressing Angela with their eyes. If gazing and gawking had the power to strip, Angela would indeed be standing there in the nude. Could wishing her stark-naked make it so.

            “Pants her!” a boy cried from a distance.

            “Are you blind? She has already been pantsed!” shouted another. “What we want now is her underpants- her panties.”

            “Yes- her panties! Somebody pull down her panties- but this time make sure that her skirt stays up. I beat my meat all night the day Danny dropped her panties with her dress still covering her goodies! Frustrating as all hell!”

            Angela attempted to bolt but plans were already in place to prevent that from happening. Given the time of day, with the noon bell to ring in forty-five minutes, she was destined to become today’s lunch: appetizer, main course, and certainly dessert- all in one. No charge. 

            And then it happened- the sweetest event to ever occur at this high school- a second boy, snickering widely, grabbed her from behind at the waist and succeeded in accomplishing what even Danny himself had never done. The first boy held her firmly in place- making sure that the skirt remained fully uplifted at her waist- while the second was determined to turn Angela into a luncheon entry. He wanted her prized panties- and he wanted them badly. Even more, he  wanted her sweet privates- both front and back. It was time for Angela to share her long-awaited vagina, engorged clit, and supple buttocks with all of the school’s frustrated and impatient males. It was show-and-tell time on a high school level. Put away all brown bags, boys, because lunch is now served: Angela a la carte.

            “Panties down! Panties down! Panties Down!” became the communal plea.

            “It’s naked pussy time! Naked pussy time!” several lads interjected.

            “Bare her ass; Bare her ass!” shouted others.

            The stage was set!

            Tucking his hungry fingers into the elastic waistband of her thin and silky panties, the bold lad ever so intently and every so speedily slid her most preciously-guarded garment from her waist to her hair-line to her crotch to her upper-thighs to her mid-thighs to her lower-thighs to her knees past her calves to her ankles and onto the floor- all in one swooping motion. What a dastardly deed! She was- as Angela herself once said of Danny- naked as a jay bird from the waist down. She bent over to grasp the panties that had deserted her naked groin, giving the assembly the most gorgeous view of her cute, pink, anus and gaping rectum as the intruder spun her around in a full circle.

            By that time the second boy had snatched her panties from the floor into his shirt pocket where his nose grazed on her slightly-soiled undergarment. It was such a tiny piece of clothing that she ought not be wearing it anyway. The undergarment would make a terrific souvenir for his bureau drawer at home. He might even wrap them while leaving them soiled.

            Gazing at the full, light patch of brunette, pubic locks, spectators were easily able to view her pulsating slit as her furry centerpiece was more peach-fuzz than hair. Her pink privates swelled as blood rushed to the gems between her legs, causing her- and virtually the entire auditorium- to moan from intense titillations. Three boys insisted that they could see even her enticing clit throbbing beneath its hood and folds- striving to beat its way outside of its natural, foreskin enclosure. With so many males gazing upon her holy of holies, she herself was turned on to the max by both embarrassment and lust. And, she wasn’t alone.

            Gently and lightly covering the pulsing rare-and-medium-rare meat between her milk-white, curvy thighs was the most endearing and attractive adolescent bush - partially budding and partially flowering. Chestnut in color, it was perfectly dispersed without a single stubble. Her totally smooth and blemish-less skin revealed her growth as perhaps the very first crop- not yet needing any trimming, shaving, or clipping. It had probably taken her the full eighteen years to grow and one would guess that she had been a late bloomer- at least in terms of pubic hair.  Her late-teen, adolescent crop appeared to require no styling or conditioning whatsoever- except, of course, for the conditioning that a healthy shampoo and perfumed conditioner provide in the daily shower. Surely she treated all of her hair in her daily bathing. There was a slight curl to the rather full but thin pubic hair at the outskirts of her patch but- in keeping with every male’s wish this very day- it tapered off as it approached the reproductive and erotic zones.

            A light peach fuzz allowed her feminine plateau of vulva, vagina, and clit a clear and total visibility. Bravo! It was an exquisite isosceles patch- the most common of all styles, named for its shape and considered a low-maintenance style for younger women who have relatively little hair. Originally, still clad in panties, she appeared to have a John Waters style of a pencil-thin vertical but removing her panties clarified that issue. Actually she had a combination of pubic-hair styles due to the most endearing arrow-shaped addition leading from her tummy and  pointing directly downward. Males love this driving directions style which provides an unsolicited indication to the male partner where to go and what to pay attention to.

            Lovely Angela needed no arrow to draw the audience’s attention downward, especially at this time when the hair immediately covering and adjacent to he privates were glistening with a heavy flow of ejaculatory juices. Embarrassed to the hilt- Angela was nonetheless turned on to the fullest. Her glowing sliced peaches were drenched in heavy syrup - causing each and everyone in the school population to provide his or her own supply of such within their underpants.

            And then, at a time when it doesn’t get any better than this, it does become better, indeed.

            It’s extra-dessert time as a third boy, obviously believing in the all-or-nothing approach, boldly grabs the dainty knot in her polka-dotted bra and pulls hysterically. In a split second, the defenseless bra abandons the Madonna’s longed-for breasts, clinging to the intrepid lad’s brazen fingers, and then lands where all panties and bras belong- at the girl’s ankles.  He immediately places the treasured item in his restless pants pocket as the horrified lass suddenly realizes that her plump knobs have joined her naked crotch and exposed buttocks in a mouth-watering feast for the gazing eyes of every male and female.

            A rather visible, glistening puddle of feminine juices begins to accumulate on both of Angela’s upper thighs. The same kind of shimmering deposit can be felt between virtually every student’s legs at the assembly. The highly-charged scene is so intense that hardly anyone- except for poor Danny- is leaving this auditorium without wetting their briefs, boxer shorts, or panties. The washing machines at home will have an extra task this weekend- cleansing countless, adolescent underpants and under-panties of their heavy, love-juiced crusts and films. 

            Silence fills the hall as Angela’s well-proportioned, firm, feminine knobs and pointed nipples greet each and every boy with a warm welcome. All male eyes rush madly from girl crotch to girl chest. Boy tongues are either hanging out, moistening surrounding lips, or too dry to move. The ripest and juiciest fruit on the school’s finest female tree is gallantly and graciously depicted, pleading to be plucked and consumed. Famished male eyes return to her beckoning crotch , now dripping  profusely, but not for the purpose of abandoning the bobbing knockers- only to lustily peruse the entire scene of female treats. Tasty analogies about Angela’s sweet teats vary from peaches to apples to plums, to pomegranates and to grapes- but all are in agreement as to fruit symbolizing them best.

            “Each of Angela’s delectable bazookas with their pointed nips would fit perfectly into my mouth and could be consumed with one bite,” noted one dude. “Double portions- Mmmmm! Then I don‘t knew whether I‘d munch next on her moist cunt or on her tender ass. Tough choice! One thing‘s for sure: while wolfing down any of her light pastries, I would make her a new ass hole. I would eat her out at every hosting orifice.”

            “I was thinking the same thing except that those titties should go into my mouth and be swallowed whole,” interjected another lick-smacking male.

            “You guys are missing the whole point. First you mouth, lick, suck, and then bite completely through her life-giving nipples, as she twists and turns in agony. Those have got to be the most tender part of her delicious pears. Then you bite off her titties to the bone. I would make her chest the main course and then devour her crotch right where she stands,” offered another.

            “Right now I wish I were an alligator. I would inhale her pretty face into my mouth and gradually swallow her upside down, until her tits hopelessly jiggle and until her helpless legs wiggle in the air- her vagina and clit begging for mercy. I would then swallow her whole to digest her in my tummy very slowly and tastily- to make it last,” commented another. “She would pound on my stomach walls for release but I would digest her one morsel at a time.”

             “I wish I were an alligator too. But once I had inhaled her upside down with her legs wiggling and her vagina and clit begging for mercy, I would ever-so-slowly and gradually bite into her glazed privates- enjoying the juices as they gush into my waiting mouth. I would do it in such a way that she would scream pitifully for a long time. Only when all screams had ended would I gobble her up in her entirety. Yummy!” added another.  

            “You guys are sick!” interrupted another. “How could a guy think of anything other than parking his car in her garage? Once inside of her, I would never want to leave. I would pump her tight crotch forever while her nourishing pine cones and nipples endlessly feed me the energy I need to continue. Looking at her, I now believe in God. How else could anything so luscious have come into existence?”

            “I could eat her alive with stiff cock and drooling mouth. Which one gets the most, I won’t know until it’s over. Both my firm tool and sharp teeth would greedily consume the contents of all three orifices: her angelically-formed mouth, her inviting anal cavern, and her ever-moist sexual canal. God, you are beautiful, Angela!” mused another. “I’ll bet that even your shit tastes sweet. At least, an alligator would think so. And, that‘s what I want to be when I wolf you down.”

 

Chapter 32: Ruthlessly Impaled on a Boy’s Stick Up the Vagina

 

            Suddenly the three perpetrators put into action their pre-concocted plan. One lad totally immobilized Angela, face-down over his left knee, between his legs, while the second completely removed the skirt from her waist. This enabled the third chap to spread and massage a full bottle of scented oil onto every square inch of her upper back thighs, upper inner thighs, upper front thighs, bare buttocks, ass crack, pink anus, pulsing maiden sheath and entry, and finally- to the loudest shrieks imaginable- deep into her throbbing, tiny but engorged hill- her clit. Turning her slightly to the side, both of his anxious thumbs exerted firm pressure on the labia folds, fleshy hood and protective foreskin imprisoning her petite but full-sized clit, pulled them apart to the extend possible, exposed the partially-hidden organ to full view and, with a fierce grunt not unlike that of an animal in the wild, vigorously kneaded the strictly-feminine bump with his bony nose and lashing tongue.

            She ejaculated instantly, feverishly, and uncontrollably into her host’s mouth and he dutifully sucked up her girl juices without a moment’s hesitation. She was being eaten out like no girl at the school had every been eaten out before. Some say that the lucky stiff milked not only her genitalia dry but also the salty sweat from her edible buttocks.

            In addition to his nose and tongue, however, the lad had a special gift for Angela- one usually unknown to the blood-filled clitoris. From his cap, he withdrew a hat pin so thin that one could scarcely see it. But it was as long as it was thin. The beam in his eye and the direction of the pin in his hand immediately revealed to Angela the horror he intended upon her.

            “I’ve always wanted to see how a girl’s tiny, pea-shaped, hill would react to a pin,” he teased.

            She begged and squealed and squirmed and wriggled as he placed the pointed hat pin to the tip of her exposed glans- and then inserted into her bare flesh. Not satisfied with a surface prickle, he stabbed her most pleasurable and most vulnerable organ until he had ascertained that the tip of the pin was smack dab in the center of her little mount and then, basking in the glow of her yells and yelps, he callously and pitilessly shifted the pin around and around until she fainted from the suffering.

            With the help of some smelling salts and a bit of water, he brought her back to her hellish predicament and inserted the pin several more time- encircling the same sex bulge until she went hoarse with cries. He worked on her vagina lips with the same fastidiousness only this time puncturing the hot, pink and red flesh horizontally as well as vertically. He then returned to the throbbing and pulsating clit  because it was his favorite, i.e., it reacted best to the pain. This time he was sure to prickle the labia folds, labia hood, and shielding foreskin to his heart’s content and to her privates’ malcontent. Once again, he began lapping up the fluids between her legs- much of it now watery drops of blood. 

            Suddenly he arched his full body backwards, unzipped his fly, and released a magnificent, dripping, scorched boner that was redder than her dreadfully-spanked, dancing buttocks. His thick and elongated tool was in desperate need of relief. Would he jerk himself off? Would he make her jerk him off? What further pleasure was in store for the triumphant audience? Instantly he dropped both his dungarees and his white briefs to his knees, liberating his long and thick peter from all of its confines.

            “Turn her onto her back!” he ordered the other two.

            They quickly obliged. Taking his cue, they spread her legs as wide as any girls’ legs can be spread without busting her tail bone. They imprisoned her hands and feet.

            The lad, without blinking an eye in his forehead- but definitely blinking the eye that served as the slit in his penis- viewed the spectacular sight before him. Completely helpless and ready for the taking was the school Madonna, her plump and inviting legs far apart, a meal extravaganza if there ever was one. The look on her face was ghastly and grisly but every morsel of pink and red flesh between her legs was throbbing and dripping. From a male’s vantage point, her petrified and alarmed countenance said no while her drenched and pulsating girl members said yes! This he would take as a yes!

            To her utter horror, the adolescent placed his hungry, starving, famished, and semen-trickling pecker at the entrance of the adolescent girl’s ever-glistening vagina lips, looked her square in the eyes, and smirked.

            “The lovely pubic hair at your belly button points downward- doesn’t it. Then downward we shall go. Your sweet pussy is about to be impaled atop of my male stick!”    

            Angela screamed an acoustic nooooooooooooo!!! which reverberated throughout the auditorium. But her cry was futile. The determined lad was on a mission that had lasted for four years of high school. He wanted to know Angela fully. He would know Angela fully.

            As she frantically screamed, the unwavering lad grinned broadly and demonically as his resolute and unrelenting stiffie ravenously plunged into her well-lubricated, maiden canal,  penetrated her hymen, and dove head-first into her uterus so suddenly, forcefully, and deeply that the only view remaining was his red pubic hair kissing her chestnut- brown pubic hair. He was fully inside of her- and her entire genitalia was completely swallowing and engulfing his. They were locked together as one in copulation.

            As he pierced her entrails with repeated thrusts and moans, he simultaneously grabbed her supple clit, twitching it mercilessly. Severe pain instantly shot through Angela’s innards, primarily because she was one of those females who could not stand direct stimulation of the delicate and fragile glans. Even when she had masturbated in the privacy of her room, she couldn’t touch herself directly. She would rub around and near the sensitive clit but never onto it. Now here was a boy not only touching it but brutally pinching it. Her agonizing scream was sufficiently blood-curdling to raise the hair in the back of an observer’s neck. But today most of the raising took place in male dungarees, boxers, briefs, and - yes- even in tighty-whities. As for the females in attendance, the look on their faces said it all. Their nipples were firm and their crotches sopping wet.

 

Chapter 33: Brutally Impaled on a Boy’s Flag Pole Up the Asshole

 

            Glowing from both immense pleasure and revenge, the successful intruder withdrew his still rock-hard dick from her sorely violated genitals, bent down, and whispered in her ear that the next little treat coming up would be in honor of Danny who couldn’t do it for himself.

            “Now your tight little asshole is about to be spiked and bayoneted atop of my flag pole!”

            She screamed bloody murder but that enticed him even more to want to enter her again- this time with a change of pace.

            He perused her pink anus muscle as it puckered in and out. It looked inviting- as if winking at him. Not a single hair impaired the view. In fact, her entire butt was as smooth as a baby’s butt. There was, of course, peach fuzz lining the receptive crack between her cheeks but that wasn’t hair; that was down. Her gently gaping hole begged for attention.

            Then, just as straight away as he had slammed his maleness into her femaleness, he now rammed his drenched, fully-engorged tool between her ass cheeks, through the tight anus muscle, and up her asshole, avidly breaching her unsuspecting rectum to the hilt of his organ. Again, the pubic hairs of both embraced as he was inside of her- and she engulfing him- to the hilt.

            His male staff was now raised at full mast inside of her second maiden hole. Angela, known as the general and the stiffer for her marvelous effect on boys’ peckers, had finally managed to entice such a pecker inside of her- not at one but at two entries. The male flesh she had teased year after year was now inside of her rectum- grinding the waste contents of her rectal cavity and intestines into a smoother mush. Once again male pubic hair kissed female pubic hair but this time his weapon poked and pumped her brutally, sadistically, and endlessly. Her entire mid-section rose into the air like a puppet on a string as the trespasser impaled her anus on his long and thick pole. It was boner against bone: his firm pecker head infiltrating her pelvic bone. He fucked her ass until they were both equally breathless. And then he screwed her some more, continually tweaking her genitals between both of his thumbs and index fingers. Their shrieks coincided- his as most satisfying moans and groans and hers as  most anguishing aches and agonies. Their bodies were a perfect match of contrasts- his reiterating Yes! Yes! Yes and hers recurring No! No! No!

            When he had had his way with her, without any interruption whatsoever, and had slowly withdrawn from her anal cavity, his still-erect penis, dripping with Angela’s fecal fluids, approached her mouth. Should he invite her to taste of her own waste? Some gals think that their shit doesn’t stink. Perhaps she needs to be reminded  of that?

            “If you taste my throbbing dick in your mouth this very minutes you can taste both me and yourself,” he offered. “The part of me come from my balls; the part of you comes from your rectum. Want a taste?” he inquired, placing the tip of his purple crown an inch from her facial lips. “Earlier this male terminator entered inside your vagina lips. What say I now enter it inside your facial lips?”

            Angela, her arms and feet still imprisoned by several boys, went spasdic to the point of convulsion at the very thought of seeing- let alone tasting- her own feces at the tip of a male who had just perforated her vaginal hymen and bowel entrails.

            “You’re disgusting!”

            “I’m not disgusting but the brown fluid covering my bright-red membrane is disgusting- and it come from your intestines.”

            He barely grazed her lower lip with her own excrement and she went berserk, calling him names even he had never heard before.

            “If you want to call me names, I can shove this entire lightning rod into your filthy mouth. The excrement I place into your mouth can’t be any more filthy than your language.” He motioned that he might insert the entire browned sausage between her ravishingly beautiful lips.

            “No- I’ll be good. I promise. I take it all back.”

            His boner still as rock-hard as when it retreated from her asshole, he pondered a bit. That worried her. He had not yet made up his mind about her sucking on an elongated tool that had just moments ago been housed in her crappy innards.

            “Angela, now listen carefully. This is important. I am going to ask you a question. If you tell the truth, I will spare you sucking a boner recently retrieved from your anus. If you lie to me, I will stuff the entire stiffie in your mouth and make you taste your own shit.”

            How is a girl in such a predicament to know what to say or do- except to promise the truth- which she did.

            “O.K.- Question: Are you a virgin? The truth and nothing but the truth. And, if not, you have to name who you did it with!”

            What a gawd-awful question to ask a high school senior in front of the entire senior student body! Only a despicable maggot would ask me such a question. But I am in no position to cite a metaphor between this student and a infant bug.

            She had been a virgin up until the time she and Danny had entered the highest heavens in art-room copulation. It was a strange place and time to have sex with him- at his disciplinary session where she had abused him terribly. But in the finale, they wound up fucking each other’s insides both in and out. And it was splendid! Her vaginal muscles tingled just thinking about it- despite the awful soreness from this present asshole intruder. And she had led a virgin existence since. As for Danny, a previously sharpened blade has seen to it that he would never enter another girl- herself included. She had terribly-mixed feelings about that reality and her part in all of that.

            She figured that her virginity status was nobody’s business but her own- and Danny’s. Danny had promised not to tell anyone- and she had promised the same. Besides, looking around the room, she found that Danny was conspicuously absent. And so, she was tempted to lie and deny ever having had sex with anyone.

            However, for all her faults, Angela couldn’t tell a lie with a straight face. If she lied, this prick with a filthy prick, would see right through her.

            “No, I am not a virgin. I have had sex with Danny Goodman- and with nobody else- even though it’s really nobody’s business but ours.”

            Danny was, in fact, present in the room. He remembered Angela doing the same question thing with him: answer truthfully and you retain your undersized briefs; lie and you lose them to a spanking witch. It was payback time.

            “That’s a lie. I never had sex with Angela. She is just bragging because she is ashamed to admit that she is a virgin.”           

            Angela couldn’t believe her ears.

            Neither could she believe her eyes as a stiffie, laced with anal crud, was placed between her lips.

            If she screamed, her mouth would open wide as a receptacle for her own shit. And so, she grit her teeth together tighter than ever before. But suddenly she felt meddling fingers inside of her arm pits, maddeningly tickling her arm cavities.

            “Angela, as much as I truly hate to destroy the magic of your facial lips and mouth- the best lips in the school, second only to the lips between your legs- I am going to penetrate your third orifice with my long stiffie. If you don’t like the taste, don’t blame me- blame your own bodily refuse.”

            As her mouth opened to scream and protest both his tickling and his verbiage, he forced a mouthful of boy prick coated with her own fecal juices beyond her lips, heading to the back of her throat. She instantly gagged and- whether intentionally or not- bit down hard on his member. She would have probably dismembered him with her sharp, clenched teeth if it weren’t for  his presence of mind to continue tickling her under the arms. As a result of her reaction to the tickle torture, her mouth opened widely enough and long enough for the badly mangled penis to retreat. The disabled lad had forgotten about gag reactions; more importantly, he had forgotten that while lips may be magical- both facial and vaginal- teeth can be another thing. They can nibble a partner into ecstasy. They can also dismember a male with a non-surgical penectomy.

 

Chapter 34: Angela’s G-spots and A-spot Vicariously Feed An Entire Assembly

 

            Finally, Angela’s A-spot (Anus) and G-spots (Glans and Genitalia) had been specifically located and adequately treated. Before turning her over on her stomach for additional treatment, the intrepid lad who had happily penetrated both tight asshole and snug vagina orifice of the most beautiful girl in the school, treated himself to an end-of-the-meal dessert as he gently but effectively sunk his front teeth into her ultra-sensitive erectile sex organ, enthusiastically and ardently nibbling at the clit’s small-hill and its delicious nerve endings. The helpless lass, who couldn’t tolerate being touched directly on the most sensitive part of her entire body, heaved in total distress and misery. And the teething lad took great delight in all that Angela reluctantly and grudgingly offered him: her fully inflated plateau,  her steadily flowing lubricants, and her utter grief at being so humiliatingly taken in the presence of the full school assembly.

            Vicariously, every single boy in the school that day- and many a girl- greedily ate and digested portions of the school’s knock-out elfin which truly mattered: everything that had lingered ever so furtively sheltered for years between her legs- and more! It was as if the encroaching lad’s erect and incisive penis had been the school’s periscope- with his slit serving as the eye-piece for everyone‘s eyeballs. Every student that day not only saw Angela in the raw- both front and back- but the entire population saw her insides as well. Everyone a proctologist, all had exuberantly seen that part of Angela where the sun never shines- from her anus into her rectum- and beyond. And, everyone a gynecologist that day, all had gladly perused that part of Angela where life begins- from her vagina lips and walls into her gaping uterus. And, everyone a obstetrician that day, all had carefully examined and scrutinized the most delicate and aroused, pea-shaped glans which had- at a boys hands- boldly escaped the labia folds, plump hood, and defensive foreskin to be nudged by a handsome lad’s nose and lapped by his tongue. The perpetrator was indeed, every-boy!

            The prowler who had gleefully and ferociously occupied both of Angela’s private orifices, then capped off her anus muscle with a feminine-pink, pyramid-shaped butt plug three times the size of her hole, managing to force it into her rectum- without any lubricant except the natural oils she still managed to possess- until it all but disappeared into her royal rectum. Who would have known that a petite’s girls asshole could spread so wide! It suited her well though the expression on her face belied that.

 

Chapter 35: The Martinet Applied to Angela’s Eighteen-Year-Old Bare Crotch

 

            Just when Angela might have thought it was safe to go back into the water, a small-in-stature, blond-haired senior approached. His mixed feelings- shall we call it a love/hate relationship?- were evident in his eyes. Danny knelt down at Angela’s side with a wash cloth and with a soda. He thoroughly washed her soiled lips and repeatedly had her rinse out her mouth with coke.  Sweetly he kissed her on the lips. Her feelings toward him were also mixed: love one moment and hate the other. What started as an affectionate peck escalated into a passionate sucking of face- on both of their parts. If either of their mouths had been large enough, they would have inhaled each other down each of their throats and into their tummies. When they had exhausted themselves from smooching each others foreheads and eyes and noses and lips and ears and tongues- with an occasional nibbling here and there- there was more romantic spittle on their faces than there were juices between Angela’s still wide-open legs.

            Danny then looked between her legs and saw what had always been his heart’s desire. As moist as his chops were already, he nonetheless licked them again. She was adorable- as he knew she would be. He had entered her- fervently and feverishly just weeks ago. In fact, he had been the very first to enter her. But he would never enter her again (never enter anyone ever again), thanks to a deviously-guided paper cutter in the art room. He could, I suppose, finger-fuck her with all of his might. That might feel good to her but certainly not to him. He had no male equipment for hardening and penetration; he had no male equipment for storing love juices to ejaculate. He did, however, have a phallic symbol in his back pocket

            Assuming from his posture that he was about to kiss her between the legs, Angela arched her naked crotch toward his mouth and fingers. She closed her eyes and anticipated the kisses that would help to heal the pain, agony, and embarrassment she felt. Pretending that they were alone, she surrendered to Danny her full womanhood which was engorged to the fullest- filled with blood and excitedly awaiting his devout lips. Her love juices flowed abundantly. Danny kissed her once directly on her belly button; then again directly on her vagina lips; and, finally unswervingly on her thumping and beating clitoris. She tasted sweet. As her ready-for-the-taking pussy arched up into his mouth, she moaned loudly with blissful sounds.

            “Eat me, Danny!” she screamed.

            He did just that- he ate her alive- but not with his lips and mouth and tongue but rather with the martinet from his back pocket- the same martinet that Angela had brought to his bare-bottom spanking from her grandfather’s stables and which she had allowed his twin sister Marge to use in blistering his helplessly bare buttocks, powerless thighs, sweet spot, crumpled scrotum, vulnerable balls, and pink-to-purple anus muscle. In terms of physical pain, the martinet had been the very worst part of his ordeal in the art room. Now it was time to learn how effective this same punisher could be on choice feminine spots. Would Angela find this penal instrument as adorable and as marvelous on her body as she found it adorable and marvelous on his. He would soon find out.

            Smack!!! The martinet struck the open-legged maiden directly on her moist vagina lips, labia minor, labia majora, and vulva!

            “Sweet!” cried Danny.

            “Aaaaghhhh!” cried Angela.

            The excruciating pain and betrayal was unbearable for Angela. She had been horrificly kissed by harsh leather rather than by sweet lips. She had surrendered to the most handsome boy she knew her most exposed, defenseless, and sensitive possessions and he had whipped the flesh that made her a woman.

            Several boys held her hands and feet in place, forcing her legs to remain fully spread, revealing her feminine jewelry in all their moist glory and glistening glitter.

            Danny kissed her with his full mouth and tongue on the beckoning clit hood and meaty folds. Momentarily he sucked in her juices wherever they flowed. Briefly she sighed with pleasure but that was not to last. Danny had learned from her how to alternate pain with pleasure and pleasure with pain. She had taught him only too well.

            Smack!!! Before she could adjust to so drastically an altered setting, the thin slits of the same martinet unswervingly caught her  on the perineum and mons pubis mound- the delicate area between the vagina and anus muscle, except that one of the leather slits had gone searching on its own initiative, cutting deeply into the anus muscle itself. The butt plug, all but disappearing, had opened the muscle wide enough to invite a perfect anus whipping. What a strike!

            “Yes!” he rejoiced.

            “Fuck!” she yelled.

            It was so pleasing to hear Angela say the big F-word for a change of pace. Looking at her you would think that she couldn’t say shit if she had a mouthful of it.

            A lad in the crowd offered an assist. He forced the protective hood, folds, and foreskin of her clit’s little hill wide open. Her full clit protruded, totally engorged and vibrating like a heart. Danny spotted the throbbing organ as his eyes widened and mouth watered.

            “This is the love spot- the switch- the knob- the bump- the bulge- the lump- the hump- the projection- the ridge- the ledge- the key feminine button deserving of both pleasure and punishment. Today I sentence it to excruciating punishment.”

            “Nooooooooooooooooooo!” screeched Angel as her body tensed up in a fruitless effort to protect the most vulnerable, pleasurable, and sensitive part of her entire anatomy. It was one of her tiniest possessions but also the most excitable, volatile, hot-blooded, impulsive, and hot-tempered.

            “You and Marge used a 3-2 pitch on me. Here’s what mine looks like, sweet pea! And, that’s exactly where this one is going- straight to your sweet, little pea-shaped organ. If it’s your erect pea that makes you a woman, then- without any balls and pecker- it’s this martinet that makes me a man. Are you ready, sweet pea?”

            “No- please, Danny, I beg you,” she cried. “Kiss it instead! Please kiss it!”

            And, that’s what Danny did. He stopped short of what he was doing and kissed her between the legs every so gently, ever so lightly, and ever so tenderly. Again, he sopped up the love juices he had caused by his warmth and affection.

            As she closed her eyes and heaved a sigh of  relief and gratification, Danny cued his former assistant to once again expose her protruding pleasure- and pain- button which naturally sought to escape beneath the fleshy hood, folds, and foreskin. With as much force as he could muster, he aimed the martinet directly at the most precious part of Angela’s eighteen-year-old flesh and lashed deeply into everything between her legs, particularly that Holy of Holies protruding glans which makes a girl a girl and a woman a woman. At least two of the unforgiving leather slits landed directly on her unprotected clitoris- her hood, folds and foreskin having  been meticulously peeled back by an equally hungry lad.  Her entire groin went bonkers as most every boys’ groins celebrated vociferously. As for Danny, his celebration would have to be revenge served cold, as cold as the dick-less and ball-less void between his own legs.

 

Chapter 36: Deprived of Orgasmic Fulfillment

 

            And yet, the last thrashing appears to have awakened something in Angela’s pleasurable side.  She managed to turn herself onto her stomach and began to passionately  ground her groin into the first male’s knee as if it were a stiff pecker, her entire pelvis seeking to achieve climax against his bony knee cap. It was difficult to tell whether she wiggled more from pain or from embarrassment or from pleasure. She started to climax- but before she could  reach orgasm, Danny unflinchingly tweaked and yanked her nipples until it appeared they might separate from her breasts. He then proceeded to spank her bare ass until it turned from warm-ivory white to cotton-candy pink to fire-engine red. It was close to impossible for the young lady to reach orgasmic heights as the angry eunuch frenetically whipped her butt. And, whip it he did! She burst out in agonizing tears and cries, primarily at not being allowed to reach orgasmic fulfillment. Her utter sexual frustration pleased the assembly to no end. For years, Angela’s forbidden fruit- ripe on the tree but unavailable to any pickers- had sexually frustrated countless seekers. It was now her turn to experience such frustration. In one way or another, every male in the school tasted Angela Sweetser’s fruit that day.

            “Yummy, yummy for my tummy, tummy!” Danny mocked, licking his lips and rubbing his tummy.          

            There must have been something magic about Danny’s exclamation of  Yummy, yummy for my tummy, tummy! because, like clock-work, each male seemed to have reached for his own individual boner either to prevent his pants from getting wet or to enhance himself in shooting his load. Whatever each boy’s motives, pants and underpants got soaked like never before. Some unzipped the fly and deposited their load onto the auditorium floor. Others, with a bit more class, unzipped the fly and ejaculated into their handkerchiefs. Even girls boasted of panties that were both sodden and crusty watching a pretty girl get dissed to the nth degree. Moans filled the auditorium.

            Two lads had finally managed to get those six extra inches of lowered panties- the six inches of her body that mattered the most; indeed, they got a lot more than six inches between waist and floor. And, the six inches that Angela lost in her dropped panties were the same six inches gained by countless males at the end of their hard cocks. And, a third boy had managed to rob her pert teats and pointed nipples of their protective bra. Amazing how easily something as precious as a bra and panties can be confiscated with the slightest movement of a determined male thumb! But what had humiliated and degraded Angela most was Danny’s riding-crop whipping of her exposed privates as well as his orgasm-blocking spanking of her long-awaited bare and yielding buttocks in front of the entire overjoyed student body. And, for him to have done such in between affectionate and orgasmic kisses infuriated her. How quickly she had forgotten that her own style of intimacy involved a strange mixture of pain and pleasure. Still, the ordeal she had experienced had to be any adolescent’s vilest nightmare. From now on, Angela’s nightmare would become most every male’s wet dream. 

            It was a day like no other day for male celebration. Despite Angela’s cries of distress at being so fully exposed, displayed, and scrutinized by so many eyes, a close-up view revealed that the very center of her body- as well as her adorable countenance- were experiencing ecstasy. She was sopping wet from tender belly button to inflamed vagina lips to bloated scabbard entry to hymen membrane to pleasure-button clit to soaked pubic hair- with additional juices covering most of her upper thighs. She was not only oozing; she was flowing. The sliced peaches and perked glans between her precious legs were drenched with heavy syrup as male stiffies throughout the assembly jubilantly squirted, squeezed, sprayed, and spewed teaspoon after teaspoon of pleasuring, testosterone-white liquids into the fronts and bottoms of smiling briefs and boxers. The pungent air was filled with the euphoric cries of sliced cunts and hard, elongated dicks secreting and spouting bodily fluids from the very depths of their intestinal guts and bowels. If semen and feminine-arousal fluids had been gases, the school’s auditorium would have been totally ablaze.    

            Subsequently, the sign-out sheet for the boy’s bathroom for the remainder of the day was so long that some of the guys needed to sign in the margins.

            The new graffiti in boys’ lavatories throughout the school read:

 

            Six inches of panty movement on knock-out Angela’s precious waist band

            has become six inches of extra hardness and jubilant pleasure in our hand;

            Every boy, except for Danny, but the continuous drool from his gaping mouth

            Shows a man rapturously overjoyed at her humiliation in body parts south;

            Danny, Danny, he’s our main man;

            Cuz he toasted Angela’s sweet can!

            After years and years of being teased by that gorgeous and petite runt,

            We finally got her: bare ass, exposed clit, naked breasts, and dripping cunt.

            Yes! Yes! Yes We finally got the skirt up and the panties down on that hussy;

            If she dares to show on prom night we’ll rip off her gown and show her pussy.

           

            And, Danny’s original words still lingered in everyone’s mind:

            “Angela, I could eat you alive and still be hungry for more. Just thinking of you in your snug bikini panties makes the very tip of my longing dick tingle with goose bumps. And, I won’t even mention what thinking of you out of your panties does to me.”

            They had, indeed, eaten Angela alive- the whole lot of them- but they would still be hungry for more. Had they truly satisfied themselves or had they merely added to their adolescent frustration? Only they could answer that!

 

Ch. 37: Sharpened Paper Cutter: Wonderful Make-Shift, Penis-Head Guillotine

 

            On the scene, Angela had angrily called each of the three perpetrator a "dick" but just seconds later a bright glow of satisfaction came across her face as she headed for the art room in search of the paper cutter and the sharpener which would dutifully improve upon its hacking power. Having heard what had happened to her at Assembly, I arranged with the parents of the original three perpetrators, in lieu of dismissal or suspension, a disciplinary spanking session in the art room where Angela would preside.

            The abused lass arrived for the triple-spanking of her violators with a twinkling of revenge in her glassy eyes. I nodded to her and winked. She would have an ally in me. The three ashen-faced lads nervously trembled at the knees, one quivering at the lower lip. I’m not sure but I thought I observed quivering elsewhere as well. I detected a manifest lump in the front of each boy’s bulging trousers. Such swellings did not go unheeded by the ever-observant and carefully-scrutinizing Angela. Unbeknown to them, before the morning was over, each would have a lot more in common with Danny than a mere spanking. Angela and I would see to that.

            Angela took full charge, oiled martinet in hand and rope in the other, stating:

            “Boxer shorts and white briefs down, gentlemen- immediately! Slowly- very slowly, indeed! After that we will tie you up to be sure that you take your punishment without resistance. Show me that each of you can take it like a man.”

            Angela grinned broadly as the trio executed her command by baring their adolescent  buttocks and raging hard-ons just inches away from her glaring eyes and drooling lips.

            Their soft and ivory buttocks she would spank.

            Their firm and erect stiffies she would take!

            “Yummy, yummy for my tummy, tummy!” she groaned erotically, once the spankings were completed- one hand on her moist crotch and the other hand on the cold, steel blade of her make-shift, penis-head guillotine. Mmmmm! Whoever said that paper cutters didn’t serve several purposes!

            Initially, she had decided to chop off the mere head of each boy’s penis. But when push came to shove and when sever came to snip, she decided to hack off the entire appendage at its very base. After all, if you are going to do something, why not do it thoroughly, she inquired of herself? Besides, of what use is a pecker without a head? What kind of a coat rack would it make? Could the shaft ever harden or thicken without a head? Of course, not! If you’re going to take a male’s rocket out of his pocket, take it all! Leave him nothing! From the nose cone of its slit and crown  to its payload system to its guidance operative to its shaft-frame to its oxidizer to its hydraulic pump (once they start to squirt they can’t stop- yes!) to its nozzle to its fin! Take it all. Leave him nothing! And, take it as violently, sadistically, and cruelly as possible: slice - sever - chop - cut  - hack - dissect - lacerate - scythe - mutilate -tear limb from limb -hew - slash - dissect - incise - lob -hatchet - guillotine the little sucker or medium-sized sucker, or large sucker. Size doesn’t matter as all pricks fall to the floor at the same speed of gravity.

            She reminded herself to make certain that it was his own orgasm that doomed his male cylinder to fall at his feet. Tell him to do the impossible, i.e., tell him to delay, postpone, or cancel his ejaculation- knowing full well that he can’t. Then tease his all-too-proud cock until he fails to control it. As soon as he disobeys you by spilling his final seed at your feminine feet, give him that one squirt of ecstasy- just one- and, while smiling warmly and seductively, suddenly and decidedly plummet his most-prized treasure into your patiently-waiting trophy jar below. He will want to empty his balls completely, but let him do it through a newly-created hole at base of his tummy. Rob the ultra-sensitive tip of his stiffie from its full orgasmic pleasure. He will repeatedly implore you to allow him more thrusts of ecstasy but denying him such bliss will not only drive him wild with utter frustration but simultaneously drive the executing female wild with orgasmic juices and ejaculation. Be certain that his soon-to-be-extinct tool is rock-hard when it drops, to his depressing dismay and for your titillating clittage.

            Of course, to accentuate and reinforce its former owner’s humiliation, take the masculine adjunct- now a male disjunct-  to your home as a trophy for your panty drawer. Give the male visiting rights so that he can be reminded of what you took from him. And, after his visits, don’t ever worry about him cheating on you because his faithful penis stays behind. The man may continue to roam but his dick won’t. You have seen to that. Finally, let him keep his balls. A rocket’s fuel is useless without a ductile- a ductile that will be celebrating a new life amongst your panties.

            Angela had narrowed the dismembering instrument to either a hatchet or a guillotine. She settled on the steel blade of the paper cutter as a do-it-yourself appliance for its accuracy. Also, for her there had always been something magic to the school paper cutter. Every time a boy teased her she would study the bulge in his trousers, glance over at the classroom paper cutter and then fleet her eyes back to the rascal’s crotch. She would then lick her lips and fantasize about someday inviting his naughty pecker to the chopping block where the head of his penis would suffer in place of the boy’s nasty tongue. 

            Eventually she would find that her home-made guillotine did better than she could gave imagined, pruning and trimming most of the pubic hair that housed the lad’s doomed shaft. The blade took it all- from furry patch to slit-tip. Thanks to her meticulous and belabored sharpening, tt was the cleanest of cuts. After all, she did not want them to die- merely to die a thousand deaths every time their balls ached.

           

Chapter 38: Whatever Its Size: If It’s Fully Erect and Ejaculates, Slice It Off

 

            It took Angela no longer than an hour to decisively and permanently disable the three raping perpetrators. She gleefully teased, vigorously oiled, and tenderly massaged each of their bursting-at-the-seams, purple crowns to full, protruding erections, allowing each of them but one - and only one- ejaculatory, orgasmic thrust so that they would rabidly want more and so that they would always remember the incompleteness of what they had last felt before losing their precious manhood- permanently. She left them their taunting balls so that they might spend the rest of their lives in utter frustration at having no way to shoot their load. Her sore vagina and aching asshole would be the very last orifices they would invade- at least with their peckers.

            And, she played not only with their pecker heads beneath their waist but also with their mental heads above the neck. Before teasing, grabbing, oiling, and massaging each of their penises, she tested her feminine power on them- as well as their vain attempts to control their urges. She told each of them that she would spare each of their pricks from the paper-cutter guillotine’s sharp, steel blade if the lad could last but five minutes without firing.

            The first lad scheduled for Angela’s make-shift guillotine was very short in stature, his penis rather small but very firm and sopping wet. He was not overly impressed with her reference to the steel blade guillotine, assuming that Angela was into mere scare tactics. Nobody in today’s society used a guillotine any more- neither for heads above the shoulders nor heads below the belly button. But from her body language and poignant words, he began to realize that she meant business his solid tool began to twitch and panic. In desperation, he referred to his small package as something in which a beautiful girl like herself would not be interested. He was so very wrong.

            “I haven’t reached full maturity yet. Look at how small I am,” he reasoned. “These other guys have more to offer than I do. Pay me a visit in a few years when I’ve grown a bit.” His attempt at humor fell flat on its face.

            “You are in big trouble, my friend. I am very partial to little penises- so long as they are hard and erect- and yours is definitely both. I have a sneaky suspicion that your right-angled junior will be going home with me within the hour- after it is sliced off at the chopping block.”

            His eyes opened wide, revealing his fright and horror at the thought of permanently losing his junior to her blade. His little willie fluttered about with anxiety but remained rock-hard. If his penis had had a brain in its head, it would have wilted away and shriveled up on the spot. Who was it that said that God gives a man plenty of blood for his brain and his penis, but only to act independently of one another? Evidently there isn’t enough blood for both to act simultaneously.

             “This wittle winkle of yours is what we girls call a piny tenis,” she continued.  “Personally, I wish they were all this size.“ She casually tapped his crown and he whimpered. “Since it’s small, you think I should let you keep it? Wrong! This is the very length I hanker after. This is the very thickness I lust after. This is the very shade of crown purple I yearn for. This is the triangular size that I ache for. Little or big, once it is a stiffie, I want it. In fact, right as we speak, it is on its way to a full erection- which means that soon you will reach orgasm- before your  five minutes are up. Besides, it’s a cute little fellow and would look dashing in my stud collection.”

            Her reference to his pecker as a “cute little fellow” markedly decreased the angle between his phallis and his tummy. Ah, but the power of suggestion and the magic of words! His fully-erect dick was pointing straight at the ceiling with no place to go except to orgasm.

            “Please don’t take my penis this early in life. I just recently turned eighteen. Besides, compared to the rest of the guys, it‘s small. What could you possibly want with something so small?” he entreated her.

            “I am a penis worshipper. Sometimes small is more. I love peckers of all shapes and sizes- especially the ones point directly at me or at the ceiling- especially when they are overflowing like yours is right this minute.

            Experience had taught him that he was suddenly on his way to a ejaculation and so he tried to change his thoughts. But Angela would not let him.

            “Did you know that your frenulum, the small triangular area on the underside of your penis, below the glans, is described in the medical books as “very reactive” and “especially responsive to touch that is light and soft”? Since you have a hard-on I can see it very easily. In fact, it is dripping with come. Let me demonstrate.”

            The lad tried to withdraw, but not in time. The baby finger of her right hand approached his triangle and very lightly brushed against the frenulum.

            “Oh, Gaawd, nooooooo!” he moaned. “Please don’t do that.”

            “But it will feel soooo good! Let me massage it for you. I promise that I will go lightly. The steel blade will go heavily but my finger will go lightly.”

            “No- please. I don’t want it to feel good! Please, I don’t want to lose my birdie.”

            Again she lightly brushed his triangle with her pinky. He closed his eyes and shook his head as if to deny the sudden awakening in his groin. If the lad had any chance of “beating the clock” to save his treasured tonker, his chances went down the drain as she then grabbed his full trouser snake and pressed it as far downwards as it would go. She held his package down for five seconds and then let go.  Her action was rather stimulating but not half as stimulating as his weenie’s reaction. Boners which are pushed downward have no alternative but to spring upward with a force that can’t help but cause acute arousal from the very tip to the very base of the stiffie. As predicted, his maleness not only recoiled but also sent seminal juices flying.

            “Lots of juices for a small tool!” she commented. I want it for my trophy collection.  

            With those words and amidst his pleas to spare his “little friend,“ she slowly, caringly, and nurturingly knelt before him, gently taking his terrified tool in her hand. He moaned deeply as she peeled back the foreskin covering from his ultra-sensitive glans. Never had she seen anyone react so instantly to touch. It drove him up a wall, especially when- after lightly fingering him- she applied the very tip of her tongue to the stripped glans and licked it as she would her favorite vanilla cone. Her mesmerizing eyes that could drive a boy into la-la land just by glancing at him from across the room locked with his and he felt a sudden warmth deep in his balls.

            Boys collectively insisted that it was her combination of beauty and meanness that gave them a constant hard-on for Angela. It was difficult to explain but the combination of the two would turn their soft worm into a firm snake in a split second. Amazing that her beautiful face and her mean streak combined could so powerfully and dynamically affect that all-important part of a boy’s anatomy. But whether it was her eyes, fingers, mean streak, beauty, or tongue that cost the first boy his prized manhood- this boy would soon unwittingly, reluctantly, and begrudgingly surrender his woody to her steel blade guillotine. It would not be long before the immediate signs of orgasm would appear: the full stiffening of the body and the arching of the back- accompanied by sighs and groans.        She could have saved his masculine stub from the sharp blade by squeezing his bulging nuts, as pain can instantly nip an orgasm in the bud. Instead she finished him off with (of all things) a tiny soft-bristled toothbrush. Having already meticulously unpeeled his animated and vivacious glans of its foreskin, she skirted the circumference of his purple, royal crown with the toothbrush’s light and feathery texture. The titillating sensation of the brush’s tiny hairs against the most orgasmic and convulsive tip of his anatomy instantaneously pushed him into the outer recesses of the twilight zone. His entire body could do nothing but climax, despite the fact that such a cumulative, lascivious summit would cut off his crowning joy and sexual instrument forever.

            “Gotcha right where I want you!” she beamed. “Gotcha right where I want IT !”

            She smiled warmly at the helpless lad, winked seductively, and then sweetly kissed his short but erect and dripping penis, addressing the doomed boy’s appendage:

            “Say good-bye to your owner, little guy! It’s time to shoot- just once- and then to drop into my jar!”

            Begging to no avail, the destined youth screamed both physical joy and mental despair as he vehemently and eratically discharged a long, steady stream of sticky-white, boy liquid from the depths of his bursting balls.

            Angela showed no mercy. True to her word, the second thrust of male juices never got the chance to spew as she matter-of-factly decapitated not merely the head of his penis but the entire member with her make-shift guillotine. She had performed her very first penectomy, with a single blade and without anesthesia. In the blinking of an eye, she had de-manned him for all time and she had immensely enjoyed doing so. Instantly her clit became distended with a sudden rush of warm blood as her vagina entry and lips flowed freely with ejaculatory juices.

            And so, the first boy had lasted three minutes before he squirted. As admonished from the start, she had sliced it off after the initial squirt- and she did it without blinking an eye. In fact, she openly cheered yes! as his severed organ dropped from his crotch. Not only did she end his orgasms forever- she wouldn’t even let him enjoy his very last one to completion.

            In the same moment that he ejaculated, she bent over at the waist, grabbed her drenched crotch with both hands, arched completely backwards, filled the air with high-pitched yelps, and proceeded to ejaculate more fluids than ever before. It was her most powerful orgasm ever. Disciplining boys was, indeed, fun!

            Thank God for naughty boys!

 

Chapter 39: Delay Your Orgasm for Five Minutes Or Face The Chopping Block

 

            The second equally-fated boy, permeated by absolute fear and downright horror, abruptly grimaced and scowled. At the same time, he precipitately shuddered with an all-encompassing pleasure and carnal desire as he visualized the scene before him: the first boy’s blood-covered, semen-coated phallus submerged in the pickle juice jar and Angela vigorously and intently massaging her own crotch in total satisfaction .It turned him on and it turned him on big-time, like never before.

            Well aware of Angela’s five-minute rule that would save his fleshy arrow from steel-blade extinction, he tried with all his might to delay the disgorgement of his bag and basket contents. But he painfully knew and hopelessly decried what Angela knew and celebrated: that at such a time, a boy lacks and forfeits all control over his percy; the girl is in complete control. His conscious mind fought the oscillating, pleasure-seeking package between his pubescent legs but it was too late. His eyes entreatingly beckoned the girl for leniency but her eyes were focused on his drenched dagger, firmly pointed directly at her at a full ninety-degree angle. The erect penis knows what it wants- even when a boy prefers to pass. He caught a glimpse of her perfectly-shaped and perfectly-forked pink tongue as it licked and moistened her dry lips in delightful anticipation of what she knew had to be his next bodily reaction. That image pushed him even further over the edge, hastening his demise.

            “Noooooooooooooooooo!” he cried!

            “Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!” she retorted. “Trust me! This will feel better than all of your bedroom and shower and bathroom masturbations combined. Isn‘t this what you boys live for- to jerk yourselves off? And sometimes to jerk-off girls as well.”

            “I knoooooooooooow but I don’t want to lose it! Please don’t cut it off.”

            “I know you don’t want to lose it. It’s your very best friend. But I promise to take good care of it in my trophy drawer!”

            “Noooooooooooooooooooo!”

            His entire youthful body stiffened with both horror and ecstasy, as it arched backwards with a deep-throated cry. That was all the cue she needed. She wrapped all ten fingers around his penile glans, stem, and base as she squeezed his inviting pork with varying degrees of pressure, lightly massaged his dripping slit with her educated thumb, hungrily inserted his pulsing privies into her salivating mouth, sucked him heartily, and- amidst soft groans from both parties- swallowed him to the very back of her throat.             Mmmmm! Yummy!

            He wanted it and he didn’t want it. He desired it but he didn’t desire it. He wanted the pleasure so much but not to the extent of it being his very last. It would be his greatest sexual moment- immediately followed by his very worst sexual moment. And, from the look in her eyes, he knew it. She knew it! She would be taking his boy part home with her within the hour.

            As he started to come, and come profusely, she quickly withdrew his vibrating meat from her drooling mouth and determinedly placed the precious slab of meat between the cutter’s steel blade and wooden base. Screaming at the top of his lungs, the shooting lad fired the most ecstatic squirt of his adolescent life, intoxicatingly pleading with her to at least allow him to enjoy the remaining propulsions so powerfully bottled up within him. She had been right- this moment indeed was more satisfying than all of his masturbatory acts combined. His entire body strove- begged- pleaded for another thrust.

            But her hand was quick to pull the steel lever downward. Like a hot knife slicing through butter, her vengeful hand and the razor-sharp blade partnered to assure that the tip of his pleasurable boner would not feel a second thrust of hot jism. In a split second, it guillotined his entire blood-filed dinghy at its base, including a large portion of his dark and curly pubescent hair.

            “Yes! Yes! Yes!” she celebrated- and enjoyed another fantastically intense orgasm at his grave loss and expense. 

            And so, the second boy lost his most treasured possession to a second jar of vinegar. Angela thought she saw his submerged erection making a last attempt to propel further joyous fluids but it couldn’t have been more than a reflex of the magnificent muscle. Besides, a lot of good that would do him unattached from his body. Any last-second pleasure would go to the vinegar instead of to him. Lad number two hadn’t lasted two minute before exploding, a high tribute to stiffener and general Angela who manipulatively controlled what hung between so many boys’ legs. It infuriated the boy that even though his priceless penis knew that growing and exploding would end its life, it had allowed a girl he both hated and loved to control its destiny. Damned the power of females over guys’ pecker.

 

Chapter 40: Nothing Quite Like a Dry Corn Cob Straight Up His Asshole

 

            The third boy turned out to be Angela’s favorite event in a lifetime- for a number of reasons. This was the very lad who had not only violated her sacred orifices of rectum and vagina with his rampant salsiccia but the very one who had transferred her fecal juices from her torn anus to her clenching mouth. She gloried in the bite marks she had left embedded in his engorged beef tube. She was glad she hadn’t bitten it off because a steel blade would be much more terrifying to his fluttering straightedge.

            “You like to penetrate but I like to terminate!” she chided. “But if you can last five minutes without ejaculating , I will spare your rod and your staff.”

            She then abruptly removed her bra and rubbed the semen-oozing slit of his stiff peter deeply into her nipples. His entire body became frenzied with orgasmic delight but just as he was to disgorge every ounce of sperm in his nuts, she squeezed his nuts with the force of a mechanic on a pair of tight pliers. His ecstasy turned into agony; his delight into anguish, his pleasure into wretchedness. Ironically, she had done him a favor because she prevented an orgasm that would have cost him his maleness. Continuing to grasp his nuts- now even harder- she turned him around and forced his head down to the floor. Subsequently, his bare ass went straight up in the air, giving her a picture-perfect view of his virgin asshole. As he wailed in pain within his squished balls, she grabbed a large dried-out corncob from the table and aimed the thinnest end of the cob an inch away from his anus muscle. As she continued to pulverize his balls with one hand- she could feel the soft tissue throbbing- her other hand rammed the corn cob with all her might into his gaping rectum. The hole took all she had to offer it- and more. His loud shrieks were those of a wild animal and they filled the room. As he bent over in pain, she jammed the remaining end of the cob completely into his rectum until it totally disappeared from view.

            “Don’t look now, asshole, but you have just been raped by a corncob- a very dry corncob at that. How does it feel being perforated until your innards feel like they are about to burst? You’re going to need a doctor to get that fellow removed, dude! And the beauty is that it may hurt as much coming out as going in. Dry corncobs are not quick to soften- even with time. You might very well decide to keep it right where it is. Constipation might serve you better than being torn apart in reverse.”

            Despite the misery in both his nuts and his rectum, the lad announced that the clock had run out of time and that he had managed to save his penis from the make-shift guillotine by avoiding orgasm within five minutes.

 

Chapter 41: Piranha Teeth At The Penis Crown; Hack-Saw Knife at the Penis Base

 

            “You’re absolutely right!” Angela confessed. You have beat the clock and have salvaged your most valuable tool. And, as an added reward, not only am I going to jerk you off to full orgasmic pleasure but I am also going to mild you until you are bone dry. After all, a deal is a deal and a promise is a promise.”

            Despite the pain in the orbs between his legs and in his rectal cavity, his leaking boner craved attention- especially from the most beautiful girl in the school. To his relief she locked the paper cutter- still dripping with the other two boys’ blood and seed- and rested him on his back.

            “You know what I think?” he interjected. “I think that deep down you like me. I think that you actually enjoyed my forcing my way into all three of your cavities at the assembly. Women say they don’t want to be raped but in reality they just love it! Admit it!”

            “I admit it!” she shared. “Now what would you like me to do for your maleness?”

            “Take it in your mouth like you did with the last guy. But this time swallow not only my dink but also every bit of my juices. And don’t take it out until you have swallowed every last drop, bitch!”

            “O.K. I admit it. I’m your bitch!” she said.

            Just as she had promised, she took him in her mouth and sucked him good until he was ready to shoot his load into her sweet mouth.

            At that point she began to sink her teeth deep into the very base of his engorged meat; her vice-like jaws joined in, decidedly entrapping his pecker.

            “You cock-sucker! I should have known. I should never have trusted you. You are going to bite it off.”

            She shook her head, indicating that was not her intent to bite it off.

            Nonetheless, he tried to rise from the floor but immediately she got some unexpected assistance. The two boys who had lost their boners were not about to let him escape. He deserved no less than they. The other two pinned him to the floor.

            Keeping her teeth imbedded in his penis as leverage, she reached for a sheath in her back pocket and pulled out a hunting knife, holding it before the victim’s eyes. He ogled it with nauseating dread!

            “You said I had beat the clock! You said my penis would be spared because I lasted five minutes without an orgasm.”

            With a mouthful of penis, she could only grin broadly.

            She was not going to bite off his still-erect organ with her teeth but she was, indeed, going to cut it off with a knife. And, just as nifty, she was going to do it the hard way.

            With his male rod still immobilized between her teeth, she placed the sharp hunting knife underneath his penis at its base and asserted a temperate upward pressure which began to cut into his masculine flesh. But she had something even more devious in mind. Slicing his member off with an upward flick of the wrist would have been too good and too quick for him. Even a slow upward movement would have been too light a punishment.

            And so, instead of using the blade as a knife, she would use it as a saw. Also, she would take her sweet time see-sawing the blade back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, assuring herself that, over an extended period of time, every single nerve, muscle, membrane, cylinder, and sheath in the shaft of his corpus spongiousum  would feel the excruciating agony of being cut. And, she would apply just enough pressure to keep it slowly but surely dismembering from his body. She would not rush it but rather make it last- for her utter enjoyment and for his utter pain. She wanted to pitilessly torture the glans’s very tip and shaft’s meaty center with the sharp point of the same knife but she was certain that her white ivory incisors could torment his living rod just as effectively as any knife. She was so very right! And, she reflected, there is something about pearly whites that are so much more personal than a knife.

            It was not by accident that Angela’s most satisfying experience of the day would be the guillotining of the third youth’s petrified weenie. She had spent a full day in the library boning up (if you will excuse the expression) on the anatomy of the marvelously-constructed penis, carefully studying and planning her strategy for depriving him of his maleness.  She found her anatomical research fascinating. Her basic goal at the library? To discover how to inflict the greatest pain onto the victim over the longest period of time and how to grant the greatest  pleasure onto herself over the same period of time. i.e., how to best combine his excruciating pain with her enthralling pleasure for as long as humanly possible. Her resulting plan and tactic was, indeed, most original. As soon as her see-saw hunting knife began to cruelly rob him of his manly erection at its roots, a project that she carefully apportioned to last for forty-five minutes, her pointed and incised teeth would play the unique role of chewing- very lightly but also very painfully- his condemned rod’s foreskin opening, inner and outer foreskin layers, thin frenulum, wiry frenar band, and plump crown- the latter being her favorite morsel.

            At the assembly they had talked of eating out another. Well, she would literally munch on his upper and middle penis- especially the ultra sensitive glans and crown- feeding on him incessantly with minute teeth marks as her hand continued slicing his tubular flesh at the base. Like a swimmer attacked by exotic piranha, his distressed  penile shaft and one-eyed bandit would feel the excruciating  pain of her tiny, sharp bites for the better part of an hour- not to mention the incapacitating cut of the knife at the shaft’s very base. However, unlike the bather in piranha-infested waters, she would keep his entire kilbasi basically intact for two reasons: to keep him in constant pain the entire time and to provide herself with a third souvenir of the day.

            And that is exactly what she did! She greedily ate him alive, gnawing and scraping and etching away little by little and bit by bit at his male endowment. She alternated back and forth between his sensitive tip, central shaft, and underside frenum- her teeth and jaws partnering to feast on him. As her teeth disposed of his organ’s purple-headed womb broom, seeping tip, and muscle center, her hack-saw knife slowly but surely went about its business of dismembering his male projectile at the base, as a carpenter cuts wood. It was a most horrific and ecstatic sight- depending upon your point of view and empathies. The worst of school predators had been hunted down and had been forced to begrudgingly surrender- to the woman he had raped thrice at three entries- what made him a male. Her countenance said it all: she was euphoric.

            The dismemberment of the lad’s teenage missile took some forty-five minutes to accomplish and, to everyone’s amazement (including the victim‘s), he remained rock-hard for the entire time. That pleased Angela to no end; it was a personal tribute to her inestimable power over the penial. On three occasions she couldn’t resist the urge to remove the knife from the penile base as its sharp point independently searched for the juvenile’s vulnerable balls. At least a dozen time, she pierced his scrotum and punctured his testicles, drawing mostly blood but some seminal fluids as well.

            In the end, his penile flesh was raw, bloodied, virtually skinless, and irritated beyond recognition from her prolonged and continuous nibbles. But, virtually, his porker was still integrally intact. It still resembled an elongated protrusion, somewhat identifiable as a subdued boy’s penis. Despite its imperfections, she decided to keep the entire penis - as a trophy- pleased that she had been able to effectively wreak severe pain on it while still attached to his body. The lad’s oscillating and throbbing male member had captivatingly lingered in her needy mouth during the entire time that she slowly sawed him at the base. While his countenance assured her that he was suffering to the fullest extent possible without fainting or passing out, the abundant moisture and intense sensations between her legs- and within her bra- guaranteed her that she was getting the greatest amount of pleasure possible under the circumstances.

            Subsequently, as soon as the agonizing-for-him and satisfying-for-her scheduled time had passed and as soon as the sawing knife had cut the very last thread connecting the lad to his bleeding member, she had been rewarded with the mouth-fuck of her life. In the end, the male victim lie on his back penis-less while the female victimizer knelt over him penis-full, i.e.,  rewarded by a mouthful of male appendage. Most would call such a scene a fluke of nature but, for Angela, there was nothing accidental, coincidental, or lucky about it at all. She had planned every bit of it. What greater symbol of female domination and conquest over male than the panorama of a conquering female, knife in hand, leaning over a fully vanquished male, his primary maleness not only ripped from his gaping groin but, in contrast, snatched for a new home in the conquering female’s mouth. It doesn’t get any more graphic than that!

            True, the final cut of the third lad’s jagged jigger was not as smooth as the first two, of course, but  it would still make the pickle jar assembly in her panty drawer. It would be her best trophy thus far. One of the most satisfying ingredients of the third cut had been that she had not allowed him to reach orgasm in the entire time she punished him. And, despite that fact, she cut him anyways- clock or no clock. She had scored a double victory over the culprit who had forcibly entered all three of her orifices, humiliating her in front of the entire school.

 

Chapter 42: Ceremoniously Cutting Him A New Asshole

 

            Perhaps the feat most agonizing for the last chap but most celebrative for Angela occurred at the end of the disciplinary session. As the boy’s mutilated meat finally separated from his groin, she ceremoniously placed the razor-sharp knife at the center of his anus muscle. She looked the hysterical lad squarely in both eyes, smirked derisively, and then proceeded to ritualistically cut him a new asshole.

            “Just as you will never enter another asshole again, neither will anyone ever enter your asshole- or more accurately, the semblance of an asshole.”

            For the third time that day, it was party time as the exultant female grabbed, squeezed, and manipulated her entire crotch of mounds and hills and valleys and plateaus and crevices with one hand, vehemently stroking her pert nipples and extra-firm breasts with the other.

            This time she saved her best masturbatory thrill for last. Stripping her entire body from head to foot- and not caring one iota as to who witnessed it- she ravenously plunged the three middle fingers of her left hand directly into her own highly-hospitable asshole- as close to fisting as a girl can get acting alone. The anus muscle- tender, volatile, and itchy- graciously and gratefully thanked her for this first-time venture of girl fingers! Simultaneously, she rapaciously thrust the three middle fingers of her right hand deeply into her receptive vagina cavity- all the way to the digital joints. The v-shape muscle between her index finger and thumb greeted and kissed her pubic hair ever so thankfully for this additional first-time venture of girl fingers. Her hungry and penetrating digits forcibly entered both cavities with the greatest of ease, as both were well-lubricated, flowing abundantly with love- and hate- juices.

            She had been mistaken about the previous two orgasms being her very best. This third carnal and spiteful experience of decapitating a male’s genitalia went even further over the top of her outer limits. She took ample time to enjoy her well-earned and well-deserved orgasmic rapture. Probing her highly-sensitized cavities long and hard, she continually focused and gazed on her jarred conquests of boy flesh. Could it be that penectomy performances would increase with intensity of satisfaction and euphoria? Only time would tell.

            The knock-out elfin, the schools general and stiffer felt most vindicated that afternoon in her favorite school room- the art lab. And, like pizza with all the trimmings, she intensely enjoyed each and every slice of the day- especially the desperate begging, the distressed pleading, and the futile imploring that immediately preceded each slice. She liked that part the best.

            Who knows how many other bad boys would unsuspectingly forfeit their crotch pickle to her. This could become addictive as well as vindictive. Yes, indeed! And, she had plenty of room in her bedroom for souvenirs. Perhaps she would wear the shortest and prettiest mini-skirt to the next assembly in the auditorium or lunchroom, perhaps even dare a handsome boy to lift her skirt, knowing that eventually and subsequently his exuberant maleness would come under her knife and blade. After all, she was Angela Sweetster. She could choose her victims at any time she wished- just by bending over. Aren’t school assemblies just absolutely wonderful?

            Yummy, yummy for my tummy, tummy!

 

Chapter 43: Labeling Her Souvenir Trophies of Pricks

 

            At home, that evening, Angela Sweetster labeled her three jars and placed them into her panty drawer:

 

            Guillotined Penis # One! Clean Cut- Steel Blade! (Orgasm in Three Minutes)

            Desperate Begging!

            Semen-Blood Squirt!

            Blood-Curdling Scream!

            A Splash and a Thud at the Bottom of a Pickle Jar!

            A Souvenir for my Bikini Panty Drawer.

 

            Guillotined Penis # Two! Clean Cut- Steel Blade! (Orgasm in Less Than Two Minutes)

            Semen-Blood Squirt!

            Distressed Pleading!

            Blood-Curdling Scream!

            A Splash and a Thud at the Bottom of a Pickle Jar.

            A Souvenir for my Bikini Panty Drawer.

 

            Guillotined Penis # Three! Not so Clean Cut, but Do-Able with Knife and Teeth!  (Silly Boy Thought He Had Beat the Clock)

            Semen-Blood Squirt!

            Futile Imploring!

            Blood-Curdling Scream- Extended Time 45 Minutes for Being a Real Prick!

            A Splash and a Thud at the Bottom of a Pickle Jar.

            A Souvenir for my Bikini Panty Drawer.

            (P.S. Screamed the Longest and the Loudest. Eaten and Cut)

 

            She couldn’t help but note that there were a dozen empty jars.

            Hmmmm! That should last me a little while!

 

Epilogue: The Penis in the Unmarked Jar

 

            Before she turned off the lights that evening, in the privacy of her bedroom, Angela Sweetster masturbated voraciously to her heart’s content, one hand on her glistening cunt and the other on a special bottle. The bottle had not yet been labeled. It had been too soon to label it. She needed to cherish it longer before lowering its significance to that of a mere label.

            Contained therein, pickled like the other three bottles in her panty drawer but much more special, was an enticing male organ, the finest organ she had ever seen, the first male organ ever to penetrate and impale her.

            She had done it for both of their good. His precious penis was too good for any girl but her. She had let him enter her; she had desperately wanted him to enter her; and, enter her he had. And, she had engulfed him. But then it was imperative that she become the sole guardian and inheritor of his royal crown lest he ever enter another girl.

            She kissed the treasured bottle good night.

            “Sweet dreams, Danny! I love you. You continue to look as good as the day I snatched you from the art room floor. Sorry for tripping you with the box of paper goods and sorry about pushing you into the direction of the paper cutter. Even more sorry for placing your dripping boyhood between the sharp paper-cutter blade and its wooden base- and for slicing it off clean as a whistle. You may- or may not- have guessed by now that it was deliberate but some day you will understand. I had to have you all for myself. No way was any other girl ever going to taste or feel your precious dick inside of her.

            “And, in a way, good buddy, you deserved to lose it after dropping my panties twice in front of the whole school. Call it revenge; call it love; call it hate but your adorable penis belongs to no one but me. Never will I ever have to worry about where it is because I know where it is- right here where I can always see it- right here in this jar.

            For the very first time since dismembering him at her own personal and creative guillotine, she opened the bottle of vinegar solution, carefully withdrew Danny’s enshrined pecker, opened her legs as wide as they could stretch, and ever-so-gently slipped him into her beckoning vagina. There was no throbbing or ejaculating, of  course. No matter. She had ample throbbing and lubrication for both of them. But he was still hard. He slid in easily- very easily.

            A few minutes later, there was a wild awakening in her groin. Her greatly-stimulated pelvis rose high into the air, her entire body became rigid, and she euphorically climaxed with the screaming words:

            “Oh, Danny, I could eat you alive and still be hungry for more. Just thinking of you in your snug, under-sized  tightie-whitey briefs makes the very tip of my longing clit tingle with goose bumps. And, I won’t even mention what thinking of you out of your underpants does to me. Goodnight Sweetie!”

            All other delightful orgasms notwithstanding, no one could do it the way Danny did. Absolutely no one!

 

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Footnotes

 

            ¹ http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=wedgies

            ² You Are Not Alone, Lasse Neilsen’s- http://www.amazon.com/You-Are-Alone-Lasse-Nielsen/dp/B000FDE5CQ; see also, A Home at the End of the World, Michael Mayer’s, http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0359423/

                ³ http://advancedmasturbation.com/

            ⁴ Ibid.

            ⁵ Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang, Vol. II, H-O" by J.E. Lighter (Random House, New York, 1997) citing: 1893 James "Mavrick" 27:1922 in DARE. http://www.phrases.org.uk/bulletin_board/3/messages/518.html

            ⁶ Ibid.