The Scythian Academy 

Preface

This story is copyright 2006 by the author.  All rights reserved.  Please contact the author at LadyDena [at] hotmail [dot] com if you would like to request permission to copy, archive, distribute, or do anything else with this story that requires the author's permission under copyright law.

This story is a work of fiction about males being abused, dominated, and humiliated in a school environment.  Unless you enjoy reading about this sort of thing, you probably will not enjoy this story.  Any resemblance between the events in this story and actual events are purely coincidental.  Although the author hopes that readers enjoy fanaticizing about the activities depicted in this story, the author in no way endorses actually engaging in them.

The author wishes to thank the many forerunners in the "abusive schoolteacher" genre, including Pluto and, most especially, The Principal, for inspiration and encouragement.

Your comments are welcome. I will continue posting only as long you remain interested in reading, and I remain interested in writing.

The Scythian Academy 

Chapter 1

Although Grant Johnson may have been a devoted husband and a loving father, he spent at least nine hours each day confined in a steel and glass prison where he trudged away for his corporate masters.  He did this, he often told himself, so that he could provide a good life for his wife Cindy, his daughter Dena, and his son Victor.  On some level, however, he knew better.  Although it was true that as the man of the family it was his role to be the beast of burden who toils endlessly to support the lifestyle his family had grown accustomed to, there was more to it than money.

The reason he got up early each morning, donned a suit and tie, and fought through rush hour traffic along with millions of his fellow wage-slaves was because his job gave him a sense of identity.  Who he was in the Company was who he was as a man.  He had been chosen over his office rival Danny Dexminster for promotion to Assistant Regional Marketing Manager, so he was a better man than Danny.  Mr. Nelson, the Vice President of Marketing, ranked Grant, so Mr. Nelson was a better man than Grant.  Grant, like his colleagues, was motivated by the ancient primal urge to become the alpha male of the pack.  

At the moment, Grant’s quest to acquire status within the company was not going well.  Mr. Nelson was sitting with his entourage in the conference room where Grant was giving a presentation.  As he spoke, flipping through his notes and charts, he couldn't help but notice Jody, the petite brunette sitting two seats away from Mr. Nelson.  At 5'2", with her small frame and firm, B-cup breasts, Jody could have passed for a 16-year-old physically, but her intellect dwarfed that of any of the men in the room.  To make matters worse, she seemed to have an uncanny ability to make any male, especially Grant, into a horny, blubbering fool with a mere glance.

Grant wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through Jody's shiny, radiant hair . . . to slowly stroke her flawless body with his hands . . . to fill his hands with her perky breasts . . . to fondle her until she spreads her legs wide apart so that he can find a home between her perf . . .

"PLEASE CONTINUE with your presentation Mr. Johnson," said Mr. Nelson impatiently.  "I haven't got all day to watch you sift through your notes.  You should have been prepared."

"Sorry sir," replied Grant.  Think!  Where was he? Where was he?

Time to stall.  "We are all proud of what we accomplished in the month of June, and I can see no reason why similar performance cannot be expected in the future.  If we . . ."

"You just got done telling me that sales DECLINED in the month of June," interrupted Mr. Nelson in an annoyed tone.  "You can't honestly be saying that you're proud of that."

"Well, er, what I meant was that the numbers in June could be . . . er could be . . ." DAMN that Jody was hot.  She was glancing directly at Grant, smiling as him and playing with her hair, and Grant's cock was growing harder by the moment.   He wanted to lay Jody across the conference table right now and fuck her until he collapsed from exhaustion.  At that particular moment, nothing else seemed to matter.  Job, family, life -- irrelevant.  It took all his effort just to restrain himself.

"Could be what, Mr. Johnson?"  asked Mr. Nelson.  After an uncomfortable silence that seemed like an eternity, Grant heard Jody's brassy voice saying "I think if we could just negotiate a reduced rate on our ad buy in the Houston area by taking competitive bids from local . . ."   Jody was leaning forward slightly as she spoke, as if, thought Grant, she was anticipating a kiss.  An open-mouthed kiss.  Grant could just catch a glimpse of her cleavage.  Round, perky breasts.  One for each hand to play with, thought Grant.  Better still, his cock would fit nicely between Jody's adorable mounds, and Jody would look good nude, on the floor, with her chest covered in his cum.  That thought caused an immediate reaction in Grant's cock, and somewhere beneath his trousers a tiny drop of pre-cum was absorbed by his cotton briefs.

"Excellent idea!" said Mr.  Nelson, suddenly interrupting Grant's train of thought.  "What do you think, Mr. Johnson?"  Grant, of course, had been so dazzled by Jody's feminine prowess that he had missed the majority of what she had said.

"Sounds, er, like an excellent idea, sir," replied Grant, who could think of nothing better to say.  

"Good," replied Mr. Nelson mockingly.  "That's the first sensible thing I've heard you say all day.  It's settled then."  Mr. Nelson and his entourage stood and started packing up.  The meeting was over.  A decision had been made.  If only Grant had paid enough attention to know what that decision was.  Grant simply stood dumbfounded as Mr. Nelson, Jody, and the other participants at the meeting filed out of the room.

Later that day Grant was toiling in his office when Jody walked in.  Grant was startled when she walked in.  He almost jumped.  Jody had unbuttoned one the top buttons of her blouse, and it seemed that her skirt was an inch or two shorter, showing a bit more of her sexy legs.  Well . . . maybe he was imagining the bit about her skirt, but that button was definitely unbuttoned.  The sleeping giant in Grant's pants suddenly awakened.

Damn that Jody!  Did she KNOW what she did to him?

"A penny for your thoughts?" asked Jody sweetly.

"Eh," replied Grant.

"You seemed a bit . . . distracted at the meeting this morning," said Jody.

"Er, yeah.  I had, eh, a lot on my mind," said Grant.

Jody grinned, and looked deep into Grant's eyes.  "Like what, Grant?" she asked.

"Like . . . er . . . stuff . . . er. . . that's going on . . . er . . . "

Jody picked up a letter that was laying on Grant's desk, glanced at it, and said, "Like Little Victor getting in trouble at school again?"  

Jody had picked up a note that Victor's teacher had sent home with him, complaining about various behavior problems that Victor had, and expressing concern about Victor's low academic performance.  Grant liked to keep such matters private, but Jody's feminine charms were such that he was not capable of keeping a secret from her.

"Yeah," replied Grant, "Victor and Dena are both having trouble at school.  Victor won't do his homework, and his teacher's constantly complaining about how he goofs off in class.  Dena behaves okay, but I think she's bored.  She's a bright girl and they've been dumbing things down lately, so she just doesn't seem that excited about school anymore."

"Ever thought of private school?" asked Jody.

"Know of any good ones?  I'll try anything," replied Grant, grateful to finally be talking about something that might, possibly, take his mind of Jody's body.  Her cute, petite body.  Her, hourglass curves.  Her perfectly proportioned round ass.  Her . . .

While Grant was fantasizing about Jody's anatomy, Jody produced a glossy, color brochure and handed it to Grant.  "The Scythian Academy -- my alma mater.  Best education out there."

Grant barely glanced at the brochure and read aloud, "'Dedicated to the ideal of feminine empowerment.' Sounds great for Dena, but what about Victor?"

"Oh, they take boys too," replied Jody nonchalantly.  "They're especially good with boys like Victor."

"Well," replied Grant, "any school that can put Victor on the right path is sounds good to me.  I'll show this to Cindy tonight."  Grant closed the brochure and placed it in his briefcase.

When Grant got home that evening, he showed the brochure to Cindy, just as he said he would.  Although Grant had given the brochure only a cursory glance, Cindy seemed enamored with it.   She read and reread every word of the document, and gave it the respect and attention one would normally give only to a great, classical work of literature.  The more Cindy studied the brochure, the more of a liking she took to the idea of sending Dena and Victor to the Scythian Academy.

After re-reading the brochure for what seemed like the millionth time, Cindy said to Grant, "It looks like the Scythian Academy is just what Dena and Victor need.  I only wish I had found out about it sooner.  Lets sign them up right now!"

"I don't know," replied Grant.  "We should at least check the place out first.  For all we know, all that stuff in the brochure could just be a bunch of window dressing."

"I don't see how THAT could be," said Cindy.  "Anyway, the meeting for mothers of prospective students is next Wednesday afternoon.  That should tell me everything I need to know."

"Next Wednesday afternoon . . ." mumbled Grant, as he thumbed through his personal date book, "what time is it, Hun?  I've got a 3 o'clock that day but I can probably move it to . . ."

"Oh come on Grant," interrupted Cindy, "You know it's only for mothers.  The meetings for fathers come . . . later."  

Grant, in fact, did not know that.  But admitting to that would have meant admitting that he hadn't read the brochure (and, in turn, that he was more interested in Jody's physical attributes than in any written material she might have for him).  Grant did not want to do that, so he tried to resolve the situation by changing the subject.

"Well . . . let me know what you find out," said Grant.

"Of course," replied Cindy, with a grin.

Cindy went to the Scythian Academy the following Wednesday, and did not return home until late that evening.  By the time Cindy got home, Grant was already in bed, asleep, dreaming pleasant dreams of himself enjoying the company of various attractive women, both real and imaginary.  Cindy showered, dried herself, sprayed herself with modest amounts of her finest perfume, and donned a bright red negligee that had been designed to emphasize her best feminine attributes.  

She then entered the bedroom and swiftly threw the blanket and sheets off the bed, to reveal Grant's completely naked body, and his fully erect cock.  "Excellent," thought Cindy, "my work is halfway done."

Cindy sat on top of Grant's thighs, encircling her legs around them.  As she looked directly into Grant's still-closed eyes, she gently stroked the bottom of his cock with her fingernail.  This, of course, created more than enough stimulation to immediately wake Grant.

"Huh?" Grant grunted incoherently, seeing his amazingly seductively dressed wife sitting on top of him.  

"Hi sweetie," Cindy cooed.  "Having pleasant dreams?"

"Er . . ."

"What'cha dreaming about?" asked Cindy in a playful sing-song.

"Well, er . . . I er . . ." The last thing Grant wanted to tell his wife was that he had been dreaming about having sex with other women.  

Cindy held Grant's cock between two fingers, and began rubbing his shaft up and down, ever so slowly.  Grant became more sexually excited than he could ever remember himself being.  Cindy suddenly stopped, and grabbed Grant's cock with her right hand and squeezed.

"You been dreaming about me?" asked Cindy.

"Yeah, yeah, I've been dreaming about you all night.  Only you baby," said Grant quickly.

Cindy loosened her grip, and began gently massaging Grant's balls with two of her fingers.  "Do you love me?" asked Cindy, as she began manipulating Grant's balls slightly more vigorously.

"Of course babe!" answered Grant.

Cindy grabbed Grant's balls in her right hand.  "Would you do anything for me?" asked Cindy.

"Yeah, baby, anything."

Cindy let go, and stood up.  As Grant suddenly sat up on the bed, Cindy shoved him back down with one firm push and said sternly "You wait here!"  She then flicked his cock with her finger.

Grant waited, lying on his back with his cock rock-hard, for what seemed like an eternity.  Cindy returned with a long document full of small print, and handed it to Grant with a pen.  "Just sign this," she said, "and then we can take care of your little hard-on."

Grant picked up the document and began to read it.  It was full of incomprehensible legal gobbledygook -- something about "full power of attorney . . . en loco parentus . . . waiver of custodial rights . . . authority to administer all forms or corporal . . ."

Cindy suddenly slapped Grant's cock with her open hand.  "Just sign," she ordered firmly, as she grabbed Grant's balls in her hand and began to squeeze.

Grant signed.  He didn't know what he was signing -- all he knew was that he wanted sex.  Now.  No matter what.

Cindy took the document, and said "Good boy," in the tone of voice one would normally use on a dog.  She placed the document on top of a nearby dresser, and then began to slowly remove her negligee, to reveal a nude female form, the mere sight of which would arouse any male.  Especially Grant.

Cindy rewarded Grant for his obedience by climbing on top of him and fucking his cock slowly and gently -- stimulating him but not allowing him to cum.  Unlike all of the previous occasions when Cindy and Grant had had sex, Cindy was on top.  She was in the dominant position, and She was in control.  It was not until Grant seemed on the verge of exploding that Cindy finally, mercifully, pushed Grant over the edge.  

It was the best sex either of them had ever had.

The Scythian Academy 

Chapter 2

If, as the old saying goes, "the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world," then Cindy was the undisputed ruler of the world inside the Johnson household.  As any good anthropologist knows, every marriage necessarily involves both a division of labor and a corresponding division of power.   Grant's role was to provide for the family economically -- toiling endlessly in an attempt to supply it with whatever material possessions it needed or desired.   Although Cindy had, at various times, proven herself quite adept at generating income when she wished, the ultimate burden of providing for the family's financial needs was Grant's to bear.

Cindy's task was to take charge of the children, and she approached that task with great vigor.  Grant may have occasionally taken an interest in what direction the children's upbringing took, and he may have even made a rare token contribution -- like when he brought home the Scythian Academy pamphlet.  But, whether Grant realized it or not, Cindy's word was ultimately law when it came to the children.  If Grant saw himself as the "man of the house," then it was only because he was harboring an illusion that he was too dull to recognize as such.  

Cindy took charge of preparing the children to attend the Scythian Academy.  It was she who enrolled them, paid their tuition (out of Grant's earnings), and bought their books and school supplies.  It was also she who measured their young bodies and ordered their custom-made school uniforms.  The Scythian Academy, it seemed, had strict requirements governing how their students dressed, and it did business with only one uniform manufacturer.

When the uniforms arrived, Cindy required Victor and Dena to retire to their respective rooms and try them on.  They did so -- Dena to her immaculately well kept quarters, and Victor to his own cluttered, disorderly mess of a room.  Dena was the first to emerge.  She wore a plaid skirt, cut a few inches above the knee, and a white blouse -- showing just enough cleavage to stimulate the male imagination.  It was a decent, respectable uniform for a student, and Dena seemed pleased to wear it.  Cindy, for her part, could not recall when she had been more proud of her daughter.

Victor's uniform consisted of pair of skin-tight, pastel blue shorts, and a pink tank top with the word "Boy" prominently stenciled in black on the back.  "This is embarrassing," thought Victor.  "They really expect me to wear this?"

"That's okay," he replied to himself.  "I'll just humor Mom for now, and then I'll bring some more fashionable clothes to school with me."  

Victor walked tentatively out of his room and into the hallway, wearing his new uniform.  He saw his mother smiling as him.  He then glanced at Dena, in her short plaid skirt and her white uniform blouse, and his mother's smile quickly faded.

Although Victor's mind was well aware of the fact that Dena was his sister, his cock was not.  As far as his cock was concerned, Dena was simply a pretty, young female with long dirty-blonde hair, a pair of firm, well formed breasts, and a smooth, flawless pair of legs that led to a place where his cock desperately wanted to go.   Had Victor been wearing a normal pair of loose-fitting trousers, his aroused state might have gone undetected.  His tight-fitting uniform shorts, however, displayed his hard-on for all the world to see.

"Eeew!"  exclaimed Dena as soon as she noticed Victor's hard cock.  "That's disgusting."

Cindy immediately shunted Victor back into the room and shut the door behind her.  "How DARE you embarrass your sister like that!"  said Cindy harshly.  "What on earth were you thinking?"

"I, er . . . I couldn't help it Mom," replied Victor, obviously embarrassed.  

"Well, I can't have you go to the Scythian Academy in that state, can I?"

"I. . er . . . er," stammered Victor.  He didn't have any idea what to say.  The situation left his speechless.

"Look.  That hard-on has GOT TO GO before you get to school, or you'll just end up embarrassing yourself in front of everybody.  So we need to take care of it now.  Take off your shorts."

"What?!"  exclaimed Victor.

"Take off your shorts, and jerk yourself off right now.  Move it.  We have to leave soon."

"No," said Victor incredulously.   Having to wear that humiliating uniform around the house was bad enough, but he wasn't about to masturbate in front of his own mother.  That was just too much.

"TAKE OFF YOUR SHORTS!" said Cindy, with something like real anger.  Victor's only response was to turn away from his mother.

Cindy left Victor's room and immediately placed a call to the Principal of the Scythian Academy and briefly explained the situation.  The Principal listened patently and reassured Cindy, "Don't worry Ms. Johnson, you did the right thing.  Obviously, you have Victor's best interests at heart."

"Of course," replied Cindy, "but what do I do?"

"Don't worry about it.  I'll send some of my staff down to pick Victor up and transport him to school.  He'll be all right.  You just bring Dena."

"All right.  Sorry for the trouble.  Victor can be such a handful."

"He just needs . . . discipline," replied the Principal.  "We know how to deal with boys like him here."

"Of course," replied Cindy, "and thank you."

Ten minutes later, four young, gorgeous women stormed into Victor's bedroom carrying a 5'x5'x5' opaque metal box.  Together, before Victor realized what was happening, they tackled Victor and began undressing him.  Of course, being tackled and undressed by four beautiful women immediately made Victor's cock as hard as it had ever been, but his tormentors paid no attention -- they were professionals.  They simply lifted Victor up, folded him into the box, and locked him in.  Victor felt himself being carried out of his house and placed inside a vehicle of some sort (he supposed it might be a van), and then he passed out.

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The Scythian Academy 

Chapter 3

Victor did not come to until the box was re-opened an indeterminate amount of time later.  When light started to flood the box he was crunched up in it took a moment for him to shake the cobwebs out of his head.  The first thing he noticed was that he was naked, folded up in a box.  Fortunately, his once-erect cock was now mercifully flaccid.  

The second thing Victor noticed was that he was in a location that was completely unfamiliar to him.  He looked around, and saw that he was in a small, windowless room with walls of unpainted cinderblock, and a heavy medal door on one end.  He glanced around and saw a small chest of drawers and two small desks crowded against one of the walls.  Against the opposite wall was a simple, metal bunk bed with two bunks.  Sitting on the bottom bunk was young, shapely woman with an unmistakably stern expression on her face.  She wore a tight-fitting leather business suit, which emphasized her ample feminine attributes.  Victor did not know whether he should fear her, or covet her.  His cock, always with a mind of its own, decided that it desired her and became hard quickly.

"Get up Victor," the woman ordered.  Victor complied, not knowing what else to do.

"Welcome to the Scythian Academy, Victor.  I am Ms. Kester, the den-mother."

"Den mother?" asked Victor.

"I am in charge of making sure the boys in this dormitory wing behave themselves, and follow the rules.  Break any school rules in this dormitory wing, and you will have ME to answer to."

"Rules?" asked Victor.

Ms. Kester produced a thick volume, the size of a major city's telephone directory, and threw it down at Victor's feet.  It landed with a loud THUD.  "These," said Ms. Kester, "are the Rules of Conduct at the Scythian Academy.  Study these well, as even the smallest deviation from the rules will result in serious punishment."

"Er . . . okay."  Victor moved to pick up the book.

"NOT so fast," snapped Ms. Kester.  "You are already breaking the rules.  When a den-mother gives you a command, you are to respond properly.  The proper response is 'yes Ms. Kester.'  Understand?"

"Yeah, I understand."

"WHAT?"

"Er . . . 'yes Ms. Kester.'"

"That's better, but you will still be punished for your prior disobedience.  We do not tolerate disobedience here at Scythian."

"For example," continued Ms. Kester, "I understand you had to be brought here, at great inconvenience to our staff, in this metal box because you DISOBEYED your mother.  Isn't that right?"

"Er . . . no Ms. Kester," replied Victor.  "I mean, she wanted me to er . . .  t-t-t . . .er . . . "

"Touch yourself?" asked Ms. Kester.

"Yes Ms. Kester," replied Victor.

"I see," said Ms. Kester.  "Why did you disobey her?" she asked coldly.

"W-w-w-well it's jjju-st that I didn't want to - to - to . . . "  Victor stammered.  The truth was that he was embarrassed by the prospect of masturbating in front of his mother, but he felt foolish saying that as he stood naked, with a hard-on, in front of this woman.  This was a level of embarrassment that Victor had never previously contemplated.

"Didn't want to," interrupted Ms. Kester.  "I can see that you have a lot to learn.  Come over here and bend yourself over my knee."  

Victor complied.

SMACK!  Ms. Kester's bare hand struck Victor's bare ass with more force that Victor thought was possible.

SMACK!  This was the first time Victor had ever been spanked.  He didn't realize hot much it HURT.

SMACK!  Just be quiet.  Don't cry out.  It will all be over soon.

SMACK!  SMACK!  SMACK!

Each spanking was more painful, as Victor's ass turned red and painful.  Despite the pain, Victor found the prospect of lying on the lap of a beautiful woman being spanked terribly exciting, and his cock got harder and harder with each blow.  Eventually, Ms. Kester stopped.

"Stand up Victor," ordered Ms. Kester.  Victor immediately complied.

"Have you learned your lesson?" she asked.

"Yes Ms. Kester," replied Victor, submissively.

"Are you ready to obey?"

"Yes Ms. Kester."

"Good.  Now, stroke yourself."

"WHAT?"  exclaimed Victor -- momentarily forgetting the pain on his backside.

"Are you LOOKING for another spanking Victor?" asked Ms. Kester sharply.

"Er. . . no Ms. Kester," Victor reluctantly touched his cock, and slowly began stroking it.

Presently, Victor forgot where he was, forgot the pain on his red ass, and even forgot Ms. Kester.  He entire attention was dominated by stroking his cock.  His cock, at that moment, was his universe, and it demanded satisfaction.  A moment later, a thick white geyser erupted from Victor.

Ms. Kester nodded, and threw a cold, damp cloth at Victor.  "Clean yourself up," she ordered, and left, locking the door behind her.

h at Victor.  "Clean yourself up," she ordered, and left, locking the door behind her.

The Scythian Academy 

Chapter 4

The difference between humans and animals lies in how they respond to changes in their environments.  Animals adapt to their environments -- altering themselves to accommodate the world around them.  If it grows cold, an animal might adapt by altering its body and growing extra fur.  If there is a shortage of food in the winter, an animal might adapt by altering its behavior and sleeping through the season, or migrating to a warmer climate until spring.  Animals, in short, survive by changing themselves.

Humans, on the other hand, do not alter themselves to accommodate their environments -- as a human living in the frosty tundra is, for all practical purposes, no different from a human living in the Sahara desert.  Humans differ from animals in that they have learned to change their environment to accommodate their needs.  If there is not enough vegetation growing from the ground to feed a human, the human will simply alter the ground around him by building a farm.  If the ground is too dry for a farm, a human will alter it further by irrigating it.  When it is too cold, the human does not grow fur; instead, it equips its habitat with central heating.  Such is the human's unique approach to meeting the challenges presented by its environment.

For boys attending the Scythian Academy, it is impossible to be human, as they have no way to exercise control over their environment. Eventually, after a period of futile attempts to follow the human model, boys will try to alter themselves to accommodate their environment -- the animal model.   They soon learn that the women who operate the Scythian Academy are so skilled at manipulating the environment that even by reverting to animal status boys can never truly adapt.  So they revert to something else.  Something even lower than "animal."

In his first days at the Scythian Academy, Victor, like all new males, was trying to be human and failing miserably.  Arriving naked in a metal box, only to be greeted by a spanking, did not help matters any.  After Ms. Kester the Den Mother left Victor's room, Victor surveyed his surroundings in an attempt to find a way to adapt them to suit his needs.

He first evaluated his situation.  He was alone, naked, and locked in a prison-like cinderblock room.  Surely, they did not expect him to attend classes without clothes, did they?  If they did, then he would simply remain in his room, under the cover of his bedlinens, until clothing of some type was made available to him.  Victor had ample practice faking illnesses -- it wasn't difficult.  

A warm feeling of satisfaction came over Victor.  He had a plan.  Now, to implement it -- what were boys supposed to do when they were sick?  There was nobody in the room to ask, and he had no desire to attract the attention of the Den Mother again, so Victor consulted the thick volume that was the Rules of Conduct.  A quick scan of the Table of Contents led him to Rule 43675 § A-32 on page 437:  "Sick Call":

"All boys who claim to be too ill to attend class as scheduled, or to do assignments or perform assigned work details as scheduled, shall be escorted by a responsible School Official to the School Nurse's office for a medical evaluation."

Victor didn't bother to read on.

"Well," thought Victor, "at least that'll get me out of class." At his previous school, Victor had always been able to appeal to the naïve sympathy of the school nurse whenever he needed a "medical" excuse to get out of an unpleasant activity.

Nevertheless, a quick search through the drawers in his room disclosed that he had no immediate need to visit the school nurse just yet, since his uniforms had been brought to the school with him -- as had his schoolbooks.  He would still have to dress in the embarrassingly tight pastel-blue shorts and the pink tank top with the word "Boy" stenciled on the back, but at least he had something to wear.  He discovered to his dismay that no underwear had been brought for him, meaning that his tight shorts would be that much more revealing.  Aside from the shorts and the tank tops, the only other garment he was provided with was a simple pair of sandals for his feet.

Shortly after Victor dressed in his uniform, another boy was escorted into the room by Ms. Kester.  He appeared to be about the same age as Victor, but unlike Victor he was not brought in naked in a box.  Instead, he was shoved in, wearing a "boy" uniform similar to Victor's.  He appeared to be wearing a gag in his mouth.

"Victor," said Ms. Kester, "this is Steve.  Steve, meet your new roommate, Victor."

Victor extended his hand, whereupon Ms. Kester immediately slapped it.

"NO communicating with Steve!  Can't you see he's being punished?  He is not allowed to speak, or be spoken to by anyone other than a teacher, until he learns to clean up that filthy mouth of his.  Isn't that right Steve?"

"Mmmphttt."

Ms. Kester gave Steve a swift swat on his behind.  "I said no talking," she snapped, and then left the room.

Unable to speak to his new roommate, Victor had no way to tell whether he was friend of foe.  So, Victor and Steve simply glared at each other for several long, tense moments, until both apparently decided that a fistfight was at least not imminent.  Then, at the same time, both boys decided that the best thing to do was to retire to bed and leave the problem of roommate evaluation to the next day.

At that point, both Victor and Steve went for the top bunk, and a small scuffle ensued.  It lasted for approximately thirty seconds, until Ms. Kester suddenly rushed into the room and, upon seeing what was happening, produced something that appeared to be a remote control and pressed a button.  The two bunks retracted into the wall, leaving nothing but the bare, cement floor to sleep on.  She left without a word, and both Victor and Steve were left to make do with the cold, cement floor at their only bed for the rest of the night.

In their efforts to modify their environments to suit their purposes, Victor and Steve were both failing miserably.

The Scythian Academy 

Chapter 5

The next morning, Victor got his first taste of academic life at the Scythian Academy.  His first class was Remedial Math.  In the past, Victor's grades in math had been abysmal, mostly because he had generally not done his homework.  Thus, he was assigned to the lowest level math class Scythian offered.  Predictably, the only female in the classroom was Ms. Hanidy, the devastatingly attractive young blonde teacher who sported a leather business suit similar to Ms. Kester's.  The students were all boys, sporting skin tight pastel-blue shorts and pink tanktops with the word "Boy" stenciled on the back.  

The classroom was a simple affair.  It was a windowless room deep within the bowls of the Scythian Academy's main building, with featureless, unpainted cinderblock walls, and a secure, heavy metal door.  The teacher's desk at the front of the room appeared to have a number of complicated electronic controls installed on the desktop, but the student desks seemed mostly like ordinary student desks.

Mostly.

Extending out of each of the desks were two wires, with an alligator clip on the end of each.  Ms. Hanidy instructed the boys sharply to attach an alligator clip to the end of each nipple, and watched as boys went through the motions of doing as instructed.  She then began the lesson, asking each boy in turn to work a math problem for the class.

Correct answers went unnoticed.  Wrong answers, however, resulted in a painful electric shock being passed through the nipples of the offending boy.  Each boy was shocked at least once during the lesson.  Victor, who rarely had paid attention in math class in the past, was shocked three times.  One boy, Stuart, pretended to be in pain after giving a wrong answer, but the teacher easily saw through the ruse.  Stuart had attached the alligator clips to each other under his shirt, rather than attaching them to his nipples.  In what seemed like real anger, Ms. Hanidy yanked Stuart's shorts down to his knees, and attached an alligator clip to each of his balls.  She then gave him an electric shock that lasted five long seconds, and the entire class listened to Stuart scream in agony.

"SO, Stuart," said Ms. Hanidy sharply, "thought you were clever enough to TRICK your teacher?  Thought you could let something SLIP BY Ms. Hanidy?"

Stuart, who was in no condition to speak, could only whimper.

"Here you sit in a REMEDIAL math class, you and your fellow MALES" -- she uttered that word in a tone that implied that "male" was the lowest form of life on earth -- "and you think you can OUTSMART me.  So typical.  There's one in every class.

"'Boys will be boys' they say," continued Ms. Hanidy, "and that's exactly your problem.  You insist on 'being boys,' and your boyhood gets in the way of you learning math.  Well, that won't happen in my class. Here, if your boyhood interferes with your education, you boyhood will be punnished."  Ms. Hanidy then zapped Stuart's balls for a split second to drive the point home.  Stuart yelped in pain.  By this time, tears were running dowin his face.

Then, as if in answer to Stuart's silent pleas for salvation (and those of other boys watching, whose balls seemed to ache in sympathy), the bell rang.  The boys immediately moved to remove the allegator clips.

"NOT so fast!"  snapped Ms. Hanity.  The boys froze.

"Next week, you are all to come to class WITHOUT SHIRTS, so that I can see that you have wired your nipples like you're supposed to.  Class dismissed."

The boys filed out.

Victor was fazed enough by his experience in Ms. Hanity's remedial math class, but what he saw in the hallway on his way to his second-period Social Studies class shocked him utterly. A boy, completely naked, was tied to an strange contraption that Victor did not recognize. He was bent over at a 90-degree angle, with his legs hanging straight down, his bare ass sticking out, and his head held upright by a sling. His unsupported torso extended, paralel to the ground, from his neck to his ass, which was bent over a metal box. Victor guessed that there must have been a hole at the top of that box for the boy's cock, because it was nowhere to be seen.

Several girls, in their short plaid skirts and low-cut white blouses, seemed to have decided to take it among themselves to comfort this boy. They approached him and took turns massaging his back, whispering in his ear, pinching his nipples, and even kissing him. Victor decided that the girls must feel sorry for this boy. He further decided that it would impress these girls if Victor appeared to feel sorry for him too. "The 'sensitive guy' routine is a sure winner," thought Victor.

So, Victor approached this boy and thought of something to say that might sound encouraging. "Hang in there, dude," said Victor, "We're all pulling for you."

At that point, a girl a bit older than Victor suddenly appeared. She wore the standard Scythian Academy uniform of the plaid skirt and the white blouse, but she also wore a black sash.  Victor had seen a few girls in the hallway wearing black sashes, but it had not occured to him to inquire as to what that garmet signified.  In fact, at the Scythian Academy a black sash was the honorary garmet worn by hall monitors -- girls who were entrusted with both the power and the responsibility to do whatever was necessary to keep erant boys in line between classes.

The most visible symbol of the hall monitors' authority was their black sashes, but as a practical matter the most important symbol of their office were the whistles they each carried. It was with these whistles that they exercised their true power.

In one breath, the hall monitor "blew the whistle" on Victor. As the screach of a Hall Monitor's whistle filled the corridors of the Academy, two teachers, clad in their tight, leather business suits, suddenly appeared. Tha hall monitor faced them and, pointing to Victor, stated her indictment: "Talking with a boy undergoing punnishment."  The first teacher grabbed and held Victor, while the second skilfully removed Victor's uniform.  Before he knew it, Victor once again found himself naked, and at the mercy of a georgious woman.

This time, unlike prior occasions, Victor did not have the luxury of being humiliated privately in his own bedroom, or even in the cinderblock cell that the school had provided him. He was being punished in the middle of the Scythian Academy's hallway, with passers by ogling at his shame. He despirately wanted to at least cover his cock with his hands, but a teacher had his wrists fully in her grip.

A device similar to the one on which the other boy was restrained was brought out, and Victor was placed in it. He was bent over the metal box, so that his bare ass stuck out for all to see and touch. He discovered that his cock and balls fit comfortably, if a bit snuggly, in a small chamber at the top of the box. His head, sholders and torso extended forward, and his head was placed in a sling, where it was supported comfortably. Victor was supprised; he expected the device to be painful, but it wasn't. It was "merely" humiliating.

After a gag was placed in Victor's mouth to keep him silent, the first teacher spoke to him.

"Do you know what the device you've been attached to is called?" asked the teacher calmly.

"Mmmptt," was the closest thing to a reply Victor could manage.

"Obviously you haven't read the school rules as instructed. This device is called a 'penal restraint.' It is a device that we use to discipline boys who disrupt class by allowing their flounting their hard-ons. We find that allowing boys to have hard-ons during class time is distracting to both students and teachers, so we require that the boys at this school . . .. restrain themselves. Unfortunately, most don't listen, so we must train them. Do you know why you're here?"

Victor was silent, having already discovered the futility of attempting to speak. The teacher smiled.

"Good," she said, "you're learning. Maybe you're not a completely hopeless case after all. The reason you are attached to this device is because you spoke to a boy who was undergoing punnishment. Rule 10043 § C-12 expressly says 'any boy who, without first requesting and obtaining permission from a responsible school official, speaks to a boy who is undergoing punnishment, shall himself be subject to the same punnishment.' You see, we need to make sure and preserve the intergety of the system, and in order to do that each boy must face his punnishments on his own. You will therefore be restrained in the penile restraint for one hour, just like Donald here."

The teacher left. Just then, girls started surrounding Victor. They massaged his back, ran fingers through his hair, pinched his nipples, kissed his cheeks, and nibbled on his earlobes. A few even grabbed his ass, or gave him a light spanking. The net effect of all of this amorous attention by a group of very pretty girls in short plaid skirts and low-cut white blouses was to make Victor sexually excited. His cock grew, acknowledging the attention the rest of his body was receiving. The problem was that his cock and balls were locked in a small chamber, where there was no room for his cock to grow. As he became more erect, Victor's balls were squeezed against the walls of the metal chamber, and his cock painfully tried to force its way out of the impenetrable box. But for the gag in his mouth, the pain would have made Victor howl out. As matters stood, all he could manage was a highly muffled whimper.

Victor tried to resist. He tried to think about such things as baseball, or his elderly grandmother. But it was no good. The uniform-wearing baseball players became bikini-wearing beachball players, and his crone grandmother became young maid -- an object of desire. The girls were merciless. They knew that the harder Victor got the more pain he would be in, and they were also proud of their skill in making boys hard, whether they wanted to be or not. So, for the next hour, Victor suffered at the hands of temptation that he simply could not resist.

The Scythian Academy 

Chapter 6

While Victor was busy adapting to his environment, Dena was becoming acclimated to the entirely different environment that the Scythian Academy had created for its female students. She, unlike Victor, did not have to be stripped and dragged to the Academy in a medal box. She was instead driven by her mother Cindy, who was every bit as eager to find out what awaited Dena at the Scythian Academy as Dena was.

The Academy was an extremely large, castle-like structure that could easily have been either a prison or a medieval fortress. Whatever it was, it certainly was not an ordinary school. Its grounds were surrounded by a 10-foot tall iron bar fence, with only one gate at the front. Cindy drove up to that gate, introduced herself to the female guard, and was immediately let through.

They were met at the front entrance by a handsome, well built man who was dressed in nothing but a pair of tight-fitting shorts, sandals, and a leather collar. Both Cindy and Dena were a bit startled by his bare chest, but they decided to pretend not to notice. After, as the old saying goes, "when in Rome . . ."

"Welcome to the Scythian Academy ma'am and ma'am. May I take your bags?" asked the man, in a much more humble tone than either Cindy or Dena were used to hearing from a man.

"Er, yeah . . . Dena's suitcase is in the back," replied Cindy. "Where do I park?" she asked.

"If you would leave your keys with me, ma'am, I will see that your car is taken care of."

"Er, thank you," said Cindy, as both she and her daughter stepped out of the car. Cindy was surprised. On her first visit to the Academy, nothing had been said to indicate that they would be providing such luxuries as valet service. Cindy dug through her purse for a tip.

"No ma'am," said the man quickly. "That won't be necessary. It is our pleasure to serve you."

Cindy and Dena walked into the building, and were greeted warmly by a tall, attractive woman sharply dressed in a black, leather business suit. "Why hello," she beamed, "welcome to the Scythian Academy. My name is Ms. Parker. We are SO glad to have you." She extended her hand to Cindy.

Cindy took it and replied politely, "Nice to meet you Ms. Parker. I am Cindy Johnson, and this is my daughter Dena."

"Of course," replied Ms. Parker, "I hear we can expect great things from you. Let me show you around."

Dena and Ms. Parker went together to the punch bowl, where Dena said politely to the servant standing at the bowl, "One glass of punch, please." The man moved to comply with Dena's request, but as he did so he noticed Dena's well developed figure, and his eyes lingered on her breasts for several seconds. The bulge in his shorts was growing noticeably. Dena had learned to expect to this sort of treatment from men, even if she was a bit annoyed by it. She did not, however, expect what happened next. The man was so thoroughly distracted by Dena's feminine attributes that as he spilled punch all over her blouse.

Ms. Parker look outraged. "How DARE you Jordan!" she snapped. "What could POSSIBLY have given you the idea that you are PERMITTED to THROW DRINKS at the students?"

Jordan took two steps back, with a look of terror on his face, as if he expected Ms. Parker to take a swing at him. "I . . . er . . . er. . . I'm sorry ma'am. It was an accident, I swear . . .it's just . . . er . . . .er . . . " he stammered.

"It's just what, Jordan?" asked Ms. Parker icely.

"I was just . . . er . . . er . . . er . . . "

"Just STARING at Dena's BREASTS, perhaps? Just OGGLING the students? LUSTING after our guests?" Ms. Parker stared meaningfully at the highly visible bulge in Jordan's shorts.

Jordan dropped to his knees and began begging. "Please! I'm sorry ma'am! I beg you!"

Ms. Parker ignored Jordan's pleading and said calmly, as if she were a judge passing sentence, "get Paddle number 4."

Jordan's eyes grew wide.

"Do it NOW!"

Jordan left, and another male servant quickly took his place at the punch bowl. Ms. Parker turned to Dena who, having witnessed the scene, had a quizzical look on her face.

"You have probably noticed by now that males, when left to their own devices, have certain self-destructive tendencies. Perhaps the most self-destructive of these tendencies is the fact that the mere presence of a young, attractive woman will cause them to act like bumbling fools," said Ms. Parker.

Dena nodded. She certainly had noticed that, in boys and men alike.

"Our servants here are well trained," said Ms. Parker, "but even with training they occasionally slip up. Like just now; Jordan was given the simple task of serving punch, but even that proved too much for him once he found himself in the presence of a superior beauty such as yourself. He couldn't function. Yet, here at Scythian we do our best to keep our males functioning despite their weakness."

Jordan returned, and humbly handed a large paddle to Ms. Parker. Ms. Parker handed it to Dena.

"It is every woman's duty to help the men around her be good, functioning members of society," said Ms. Parker. "The men in your life, whoever they may be, need your guidance. Jordan needs your guidance."

"You want me to spank him?" asked Dena, as she accepted the paddle from Ms. Parker.

"I want you to correct him," replied Ms. Parker. "You will find that the only truly effective way to correct a male -- to teach a male -- is with classic conditioning. Good behavior must be rewarded, but more important, unacceptable behavior must be punished. I would say that what Jordan just did is unacceptable, wouldn't you agree?"

"Of course," replied Dena.

"Then it if your duty to correct him, for his own good. Give him ten swats with the paddle. That should be enough to teach him to keep his eyes on his work."

"Assume the position," ordered Ms. Parker. Jordan removed his shorts, folded them neatly and placed them on the ground in front of him. He then bent over and exposed his bare bottom to Dena. Dena swung the paddle, and lightly grazed Jordan's ass.

"No, no, no, that doesn't count," said Ms. Parker. "You have to make him FEEL it, otherwise you can never hope to train him. Try again."

Dena tried again, and struck Jordan's ass slightly harder.

"That just won't do," said Ms. Parker. "Look, have you ever played baseball?"

"Softball," replied Dena, wondering what the relevance was.

"Well, I want you to pretend you're swinging at the ball, and I want you to hit a home run."

Dena nodded, took her stance, and swung.

"One," said Jordan, through clenched teeth. He had been painstakingly trained not to shout out.

"Two," said Jordan, when Dena struck again.

"Three," came moments later.

"Four."

"Five."

"Six."

"Seven."

"Eight."

"Nine."

"Ten."

"Very good," said Ms. Parker to Dena. "And what do we say Jordan?" she asked sharply.

Jordan stood, approached Dena, and knelt before her feet. "Thank you for correcting me, ma'am," he said, right before kissing her feet.

"You may resume your duties," said Ms. Parker. Jordan stood up, grabbed his shorts and put them on, and returned to his place at the punch bowl. Another man approached Dena, bowed, and handed her a clean white blouse identical to the punch-stained blouse she was wearing.

"You can change in the ladies room down that hall," Ms. Parker pointed. "Grant will take your blouse and have it laundered for you."

"Thank you Ms. Parker," said Dena, as she left, with Grant following behind her.

"Hmmm . . ." thought Dena. "This manservant's name is 'Grant' just like Dad." Dena briefly amused herself with the thought of her father at this party, dressed in nothing but tight shorts, sandals, and a leather collar, waiting hand and foot on all the ladies at the party. She decided that she was definitely going to like it at the Scythian Academy.

The Scythian Academy

Chapter 7

After the cordial reception given by the faculty at the Scythian Academy, Dena was shown to her room by Jordan, who still appeared to be sore from the adept beating his bottom had received from Dena just a few hours before. Dena still relished the feeling of power that delivering that spanking had given her, especially over such a well-built man as Jordan. As Jordan turned to leave after showing Dena to her room, Dena gave his ass a tight squeeze with her hand. Although Jordan winced in pain, the bulge in his tight-fitting shorts grew noticeably larger. "Yep," thought Dena, "I am definitely going to like it here."

Dena's room was as different from Victor's as any room could possibly be from any other. Instead of a windowless cell of plain cinderblock, Dena had been given a complete bedroom more than twice as big as Victor's. It featured large mahogany desk, a full dresser with a 46 x 32 mirror, and full queen poster bed with privacy curtains, which were quite unnecessary since she had the entire room to herself. As soon as she began the motions of unpacking, she found that the job had already been done for her. Her school uniforms were neatly hanged in her ample walk-in closet along with the casual clothing she would wear on breaks, and her undergarments were neatly folded in drawers. Her books were also in their proper place on the antique bookshelf next to her desk. All she needed to do was change into her negligee (which she also found in its appointed place), and she was ready to relax in her comfortable bed. She set the alarm on the nearby nightstand for 6:30, so that she could get an early start the next morning.

Her first class was the most pleasant of her academic career thus far -- Advanced Greek Literature.  It was not just the subject matter that Dena found enjoyable (Dena had always been a literature buff), but also the atmosphere.  The students were all girls, who sat quietly throughout the lecture, speaking only when recognized after politely raising their hands.  They paid attention, took notes, and participated in the class discussion in a manner that made clear their interest in the subject matter.  Totally absent were the usual misbehaving (inevitably male) miscreants, who would hold whispered conversations during class, pass notes, throw spitballs, and generally make nuisances of themselves.  Dena could not recall a time when she had a more positive experience at school.

The experience of the boy-free Greek Literature class made Dena disappointed to walk in to her Home Economics class to find that 2/3 of the students were boys.  Worse yet, they were boys who were in a class that boys generally had little or know interest in.  They would refuse to pay attention, heckle the teacher, and misbehave in other ways, thereby ensuring that nobody in class would have the opportunity to learn anything.  As if this alone were not bad enough, once it came time for the class to divide into groups to accomplish the homemaking project (whatever it might be), the boys in Dena's group would expect Dena to do most of the work.  Home Economics, after all, was for girls -- or so went the general belief.  Dena herself was not particularly interested in Home Economics either, but she would pay attention in class and do the work because she took great pride in being a responsible student.

Dena was pleased at least to find that the teacher was Ms. Parker -- the same Ms. Parker who she had met at the school reception the night before.  At the appointed time the bell rang, and Ms. Parker spoke.

"Good morning class, I am Ms. Parker, and this is Home Economics 101, your introduction to the art of homemaking.  As you should know, proper homemaking is equally the responsibility of the head of the household and the . . ."

The boys, perdictably, tuned out Ms. Parker's remarks from the beginning.  Instead of taking notes, they doodled in their notebooks, wrote notes to eachother, and occasionally whispered in one another's ear.  One boy was even bold enough to begin folding a paper airplane while Ms. Parker was making her introductory comments to the class.  That boy immediately attracted Ms. Parker's attention.

"ROBERT," said Ms. Parker sharply, addressing the boy.  Robert looked up.

"Am I boring you?" asked Ms. Parker.

As several of the other student giggled, Robert replied, "Sorry Teach but . . . well . . . this IS Home Ec.  I mean, you've gotta admit it's kind of dull.  Nothing personal, of course."

"Of course," said Ms. Parker softly.

"Robert, since you're so eager to express your views to the rest of the class, why don't you come up here.  I think you'll find that I can make this class much more interesting for you," said Ms. Parker.

Robert shrugged, and approached the front of the class where he stood next to Ms. Parker.  Ms. Parker stood behind Robert and began massaging his sholders.  "Is that better now?" asked Ms. Parker.  "A bit more WORTHY of your attention?"

Before Robert could respond, Ms. Parker's hands wandered down Robert's chest, and then all the way down to his cock.  They barely rubbed his cock before they traveled back up his chest, inside his pink tank top.  As they reached nipples, and began to pinch, tweak, and tease, Ms. Parker asked in the brassiest of voices, "How's that Robert?  Exciting?"  Robert nodded.

Ms. Parker then lifted Robert's tank top over his head and removed it, with Robert cooperating completely.  Her hands then traveled along Robert's chest for a moment, but soon found their way back down to the growing buldge in Robert's shorts.  She then began gently stroking Robert's cock through his shorts.

"Now that we've made class interesting for you, do you want to take those shorts off?  I'll bet we can make this the most . . . stimulating class you've had all day," said Ms. Parker.

For Robert, to call events up to this point "stimulating" would indeed be an understatement.  Robert believed that he was, at that moment, the luckiest boy in the world.  Like most boys, he had occasionally sat in the back of the class fantacising about his teacher, but here was a teacher who was actually comming on to him.  And a HOT teacher at that.  At that moment, the fact that Robert was standing in the front of the class, with so many students watching him, was forgotten.  The only things that existed in his universe were Ms. Parker, in her tight leather business suit, and his desparately hard cock.  His hard cock was revealed to the entire class when Robert happily complied with Ms. Parker's suggustion that he remove his shorts.

Robert may not have been so excited about the prospect of undressing for the beautiful Ms. Parker if he had been able to see what the rest of the class saw.  While Robert was bent over, pulling down his shorts, Ms. Parker was operating a control on her desk, and a pair of heavy chains was being lowered from the ceiling against the wall immediately behind Robert.  At the end of each chain was a shackle.  As soon as Robert stood up after removing his shorts, before he realized what was happening, Ms. Parker grabbed one wrist and locked it into a shackle, and then the other.  She then operated another control on her desk, and the chains were raised, so that Robert's wrists were pulled up above his head.

"What the . . . " began Robert in protest, before he was slapped in the face by Ms. Parker. "SILENCE," Ms. Parker said sharply, "or next time . . ." she grabbed his balls and gave them a gentle squeeze.  Robert obeyed.  A woman with her hands on a boy's balls can be remarkably persuasive.

Ms. Parker addressed the class.  "It seems that Robert here has been having trouble paying attention.  Now, do any of you OTHER boys think you'll have a hard time paying attention?" asked Ms. Parker.

The response was a chorus of "no"s and "no ma'am"s, which was met with Ms. Parker once again snapping "SILENCE!"

"Now, before we can truly commence with today's lesson, we will need make sure we have Robert's undivided attention.  I will need an assistant.  Dena, would you come up here please?" said Ms. Parker.

Dena, having watched the scene thus far with the admiration any good protégé would have for her mentor, was quite eager to come up to the front of the class and help Ms. Parker.  She knew that what Ms. Parker had in mind for her was quite different from what she had in mind for Robert.

"This fine young lady," said Ms. Parker to the class, "has already shown quite an aptitude for correcting deviant behavior.  She will show us the proper technique."  Ms. Parker handed a riding crop to Dena and said in a stage whisper, "Now give him ten swats in the place where it will do the most good.  Remember:  Don't hold back."

Dena decided that Robert's hard cock was the place where her crop would "do the most good," so taking aim at his erect member, Dena swung and missed.  Instead of his cock, Dena's crop hit Robert an inch below his belly button.

"Owwww!" yelled Robert.  The look of disapproval on Ms. Parker's face was unmistakable.

"Now Robert, you should know better than to yell out when you are being corrected.  Haven't you read the rules?" asked Ms. Parker.

"No ma'am," replied Robert.  The more respectful tone that he had suddenly adopted seemed to prove the effectiveness of Ms. Parker's technique.

"Let me make it simple for you then," said Ms. Parker patiently.  "Hopefully you will pay attention this time.  You are going to get ten swats for your misbehavior in class, but you are NOT -- repeat NOT -- to cry out.  If you cry out, the swat doesn't count.  Dena is doing you a favor; she is correcting you and helping you learn to be a functioning member of society.  Each time she strikes you, you are to thank you for correcting you.  Do you understand, Boy?" said Ms. Parker.

"Yes ma'am," replied Robert.

"Good.  Now, please resume Dena."

Dena tried striking Robert again, this time hitting him in the upper thigh.  Robert did not cry out, but instead remained silent.

"That doesn't count either," said Ms. Parker.  "You are to thank Dena each time she corrects you.  Try again."

The third time, Dena came much closer, hitting just to the left of Robert's balls.

"Thank you Dena," said Robert.

"You know better than that.  Address her as 'ma'am'" said Ms. Parker.

"Thank you ma'am," said Robert immediately.

"Better," said Ms. Parker.  "That one counts.  Do it again."

SWAT! Dena hit Robert's belly button -- far off the mark. 

"Thank you ma'am"

SWAT!  This time, Dena used a downward swoop, and struck the top of Robert's erect member.  Robert had to utter his "Thank you ma'am" through clenched teeth.

SWAT!  Dena did not bother aiming for Robert's cock this time, but instead his nipples.

"Thank you ma'am."

SWAT!  Direct hit on the left testicle.  Robert came perilously close to crying out, but managed to restrain himself.  Tears ran down his face as he said a barely audible "thank you ma'am."

SWAT!  Another one below the belly.

"Thank you ma'am"

SWAT!  Mid thigh.

"Thank you ma'am."

SWAT!  Score!  The bottom of Robert's cock felt the sting of the crop.

"Thank you ma'am."

SWAT!  Another shot to the nipples.

"Thank you ma'am."

"And now," thought Dena, "the grand finale."

SWAT!  Dena took aim at Robert's balls, and scored a direct hit on both of them.  Robert howled out in pain, but quickly stopped himself.

"Thank you ma'am.  P-p-p-please, I didn't mean to shout out.  Pleas let that one count.  I can't take any more."

"I think," said Ms. Parker, "that Robert here has had enough for now.  You still have one more swat with the crop coming to you, but we'll take care of it tomorrow.  For now, you can remain there for the rest of the class.  I'm sure you won't have any trouble paying attention from there, will you?"

"No ma'am," replied Robert quickly.

"Good.  You can take your seat Dena -- good job.  We'll continue."

And continue she did, with Robert's naked, battered form hanging from chains behind her, as if nothing of any great significance had happened.  She lectured the class for fifteen minutes on how make Fettuccini Alfredo, and then divided the class into teams of two, with each team consisting of one boy and one girl.  Despite Ms. Parker's demonstration of the importance of paying attention in class, the girls still paid significantly more attention than the boys, so they were designated as the "team leaders."  Each girl was issued a riding crop, and instructed to use it to "encourage" her male partner.  Thus the male half of each team did all of the manual labor, while the female half provided the leadership, instruction and, if necessary, the punishment.  A boy named Blake was assigned to be Dena's partner, and Dena was merciless in using the crop to encourage him to prepare the fettuccini property.  At the end of the class, Ms. Parker pronounced Dena and Blake's fettuccini the best in the class, and praised Dena's leadership skills.

Dena decided that Home Economics wasn't so bad after all.

The Scythian Academy

Chapter 8

While Victor and Dena were each being introduced to their respective lots in life at the Scythian Academy, Grant's life was undergoing major changes as well.  It all started on the day when Cindy came home from the Mothers' Orientation at the Academy and coerced Grant into signing Victor and Dena's enrollment contract by mercilessly teasing Grant's cock and balls, and then demanding that he sign before letting him cum.

Like most males of his time, Grant thought of himself as the Man of the House.  The Head of the Family.  The King of the Castle.  To be sure, he had been manipulated my his wife on that particular night, but that was not the way he looked at to.  After all, imagined Grant, he probably would have signed the papers anyway.  He knew that Victor and Dena weren't getting the education they needed from the public schools.  And in any case, he mostly left the task of raising the kids to Cindy anyway.  As for that cute little bedroom game that Cindy had come up with, Grant was glad that he and his wife had spiced up their sex life a bit.  It simply meant that they weren't going to get bored with each other.

Grant's perception of the situation was, for the most part, nothing more than an attempt by his imagination to satisfy the demands of his fragile male ego.   He was, however, right about one thing:  His and Cindy's sex life was certainly no longer boring.  Cindy's "cute little bedroom game" continued with a vengeance, with Grant's enthusiastic cooperation.  It became a routine for Grant to lie in bed on top of the covers completely naked, and for Cindy to walk in her sexiest negligee, sit on top of Grant, and order him to do things while stroking his cock or gently manipulating his balls. 

At first, they were simply nominal make-work tasks that seemed to exist only for the purpose of providing a pretext for Cindy's "game."  Sometimes, she would walk into the bedroom, drop some papers on the floor, and order Grant to pick them up.  Sometimes, she would order him to fetch her a glass of water.  Other times, the tasks were more intimate.  She once ordered him to massage her feet, and kept him on the edge of orgasm for over an hour while she enjoyed a relaxing foot rub.  Every time, however, there was something Grant had to do -- some task he had to perform -- in order to "earn" the privilege of cuming.

The "game" got more sophisticated as time went on, and a set of rules came into being.   One such rule was established when Cindy climbed on top of Grant, squeezed his cock between her fingers, and said, "Go to the kitchen, Boy, and bring me a bowl of grapes."

"Sure thing hon," replied Grant.

Cindy then drew her open hand back and slapped Grant's cock.  It didn't cause excruciating pain, but Grant certainly felt it.

"BAD BOY," snapped Cindy.  Then, as she grabbed Grants balls with her right hand, she said to him, "I am NOT 'hun.'  I am your lady.  When I give you a command, you are to address me as such.  Understand Boy?"  Lately, Grant always seemed to be "Boy" in the bedroom.

"Yes, I understand," said Grant. 

Cindy tightened her grip on Grant's balls slightly.

"Er . . . I mean 'Yes My Lady,'" said Grant quickly.

"Better," replied Cindy calmly, as she let Grant's balls go and then got up from on top of him to allow Grant to rise.

Grant then went into the kitchen, completely naked, and retrieved a bunch of grapes from the refrigerator and placed them in a bowl.  He brought the bowl back to the bedroom and handed it to Cindy.  Cindy gave the bowl back to Grant, and required Grant to place each grape into Cindy's mouth, one by one, until they were gone.  All the while, Cindy molested Grant's cock, and kept him on the edge or orgasm.  She did not mount him and push him over the edge until the last grape was gone.

The result of the Johnsons' new bedroom routine was that Grant was being classically conditioned associate taking orders from Cindy with being sexually aroused.  Cindy knew that eventually, she would be able to assert her new authority over Grant outside of the bedroom, but she also knew that it would be dangerous to attempt to do so until the conditioning had fully taken hold.  So, for what seemed like an eternity for Cindy, she dominated Grant only in the bedroom.  Then, one Saturday morning after Cindy had decided that enough time had passed, she tried a little experiment.  After the two of them finished eating breakfast together in the kitchen, Cindy said to Grant in a stern, commanding tone, "Now clean up the table and do the dishes."

Grant gave Cindy a suppressed look.  "What?" asked Grant, not believing his ears.

"CLEAN up the table, and DO the dishes!" she said in an even more stern tone.

Grant stood up, and Cindy could clearly make out the budge that had suddenly formed in his trousers.   He slowly proceeded to gather up the dishes from the table.

Cindy walked around to Grant's side of the table, and slapped Grant's ass.  "Faster," she ordered.  Grant sped up.

Grant gathered the dirty dishes from the table and placed them in the sink.  As he filled the sink with soapy water and started scrubbing, Cindy came up behind him and undid his trousers.  As she did so, she whispered in Grant's ear "keep going."  Grant continued cleaning dishes as his trousers dropped to the floor -- followed in short order by his underwear.  His cock was already hard -- having been trained to respond in that manner to Cindy's commands, but Cindy stroked it just enough to reinforce the conditioning.  She brought Grant back into the bedroom and fucked him only after the last dish was dried and put away.

Grant was now hers.

The Scythian Academy

Chapter 9

Through the use of the time-tested methods of classic conditioning Grant Johnson, Head of the Household and King of the Castle, was dethroned. Once Cindy discovered that Grant had been trained to become sexually aroused when he took orders from Cindy, Cindy used that newly-acquired power over Grant without hesitation. As soon as they got up, Cindy would order grant to cook breakfast, order him to wash the dishes, and then give him a list of errands that she ordered him to do after work. When he got home, she would order him to clean the house, do laundry, and, of course, make dinner and clean up afterwards. The division of labor within their marriage had irrevocably altered. Before, Grant had been the breadwinner, while Cindy was in charge of homemaking and raising the children. Now, Grant was the worker bee, while Cindy was the queen bee. Cindy did the decision making for both of them, while Grant did all of the menial labor. Grant, consequently, was hard nearly constantly while at home, since Cindy was nearly always stimulating him by giving him more orders to follow.

Cindy's classic conditioning had an unexpected side-effect, which deprived Grant of any reprieve from his constantly-aroused condition even while he was at work. On the day Grant had obtained the Scythian Academy's brochure from his young, attractive co-worker Jody, he had attended a meeting with his boss, Mr. Nelson. Jody's presence at that meeting had distracted Grant, and rendered him unable to pay attention to what was being said. Jody had that effect on Grant -- whenever she was in the room, Grant could seem to think of nothing but how badly he wanted to strip her nude and fuck her until she fainted.

At the meeting, while Grant's mind was busy imagining Jody bent over the conference room table with her breasts in the palms of Grant's hands and his cock vigorously thrusting itself into her pussy, Jody had made a suggestion to Mr. Nelson. Grant, not knowing what else to do, had agreed to it, and a decision (of some sort) had been made. It was not until later that Grant discovered what he had agreed to. Jody's plan was to re-organize Grant's department, with Jody in charge.

When Grant found out what had actually taken place at the meeting, he couldn't very well complain, since he (theoretically) had agreed to the plan when it was suggested. The very idea of calling Mr. Nelson and admitting to him that he had been paying more attention to Jody's cleavage than what was being said at the meeting didn't even cross Grant's mind. So, he simply cooperated, and imagined that he was cooperating because he was a good employee who always put the company's interests first.

Grant was very good at reinventing reality in his own mind to satisfy the needs of his fragile male ego.

Fortunately, the plan did not call for any reduction in Grant's pay, so there was no need to tell Cindy what happened. Unfortunately, as a result of the plan, Jody became Grant's boss, and Grant spent each day at work taking orders from the exquisitely gorgeous Jody.

Even without help, Jody had the uncanny ability to give Grant a hard-on and thereby turn an otherwise normal man into a drooling, ravenous animal. Cindy's conditioning, however, made matters ten times worse for Grant. Every time Jody would give Grant an order, Grant would become sexually aroused and his cock would become clearly visible through his trousers. The act of performing his work -- of obeying Jody's instructions -- only served to excite Grant further. Eventually, it became nearly impossible for Grant to concentrate on his work. His productivity dwindled nearly to zero.

Grant initially tried to solve this problem by going to the restroom at odd moments to jerk himself off, but that did not seem to help. After emerging from the bathroom, Jody would inevitably call him into her office to give him more work to do, and the problem would start all over again. Even worse, it seemed to get harder and harder for Grant to make himself cum.  As a result, he ended up spending an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom. Given the fact that Grant's productivity was already suffering, that did not look good.

Grant waited patiently outside of Jody's office, where Jody's secretary Laura diligently screened Jody's phone calls and visitors. Laura, like Jody, was devastatingly attractive, and just as capable of bringing out Grant's animal instincts. She had recently graduated from the same high school Jody had gone to, and was working her way through college. She was only 18, but Grant didn't care. He wanted her.

A buzzing sound emitted from Laura's desk, and Laura picked up the telephone and listened briefly. She then turned to Grant and said, "Ms. Jamison will see you now."

That was another change that took some getting used to. Jody was now "Ms. Jamison."

Grant entered Jody's large office to find the young, attractive Jody sitting behind a mahogany executive desk. She wore a low-cut white blouse with her dark business suit, which showed a generous amount of cleavage. Grant stared at the top of Jody's breasts for a long moment before he snapped out of his trance.

"Sit down Grant," said Jody.

Grant approached Jody's desk and made to sit in one of the chairs facing it.

"No," said Jody, "the couch."

Grant turned, and took a seat on the middle cushion of the brown leather couch that sat several feet away from Jody's desk. After Grant sat, Jody took a seat next to him, deliberately placing herself in close proximity to Grant. Very close. Grant's cock immediately reacted.

"Now Grant," began Jody in a soft, sweet, pleasant tone of voice, "you've been slacking off a bit on the job, haven't you?"

"Er . . . er . . . I um . . . ." replied Grand dumbly.

"We both know you have. And we both know why," said Jody.

"WHAT!?" thought Grant. Surely Jody couldn't REALLY know why Grant had been unable to concentrate on his work.

"Look, Grant, you don't need to be ashamed just because you have this," Jody grabbed Grant's cock through his trousers and gave it a squeeze. "Everyone in the office knows that you've had this hard-on every hour of every day. The thing is, it's getting in the way of your work, and it HAS TO STOP," said Jody.

Grant had never been so embarrassed in his life.

"Now," continued Jody, "what is it? Is your wife not taking care of your needs?"

"Hey," snapped Grant, "leave my wife out of this! That's none of your business."

"WATCH YOUR MOUTH," replied Jody. "Do you want to keep this job, or not?"

Grant immediately deflated. He couldn't imaging facing Cindy with news that he had just been fired. "Yes, Ms. Jamison, of course I want to keep my job."

"Then tell me, are you, or are you not, getting enough sex at home?" asked Jody.

"Well . . . er. . . the thing is . . . ." began Grant, searching for a reply that Jody might find acceptable.

"Forget it," interrupted Jody. "I'll just call Cindy up and ask her."

"No!" replied Grant, in terror, "pleeease don't do that."

Jody turned back to Grant, grinning. "Perhaps," said Jody, "I should just call Cindy and tell her that you've been LUSTING after me, and that you can't concentrate on your work because of your HARD-ON."

"Pleeease, Ms. Jamison, I really need this job. If there's anything I can do to make up . . . "

"First," interrupted Jody, "I need you to be completely honest with me.  I mean COMPLETELY honest.  Are you attracted to me?"

"Yes Ms. Jamison," replied Grant, meekly.

"And I'll bet the reason you're having those hard-ons is because you're thinking about me.  Isn't that right?" asked Jody.

"Yes Ms. Jamison," said Grant.

 "You know you can never be my boyfriend," said Jody. "You're a married man. The most you can possibly hope for is to have me as your mistress. Would you like that?" asked Jody.

"Er, yes Ms. Jamison," replied Grant, this time with more enthusiasm. "Well," said Jody with feigned reluctance, "if that's what we need to do to get you producing again, I suppose that's the way it'll have to be." She turned to Grant and said, "take off your clothes."

Grant eagerly stripped naked, and dumped his clothes into a heap in front of him. What luck! He had thought that he was about to get fired, and now he was about to go all the way with the prettiest woman in the office.

"No, no, no," said Jody. "If I'm going to be your mistress, I can't let you leave messes all over the place. Go pick up that pile of clothes and fold it neatly."

"Yes Ms. Jamison," said Grant.

"'Ms. Jamison?' Who told you that you could call me 'Ms. Jamison?' I am your MISTRESS, understand? You are to address me as 'Mistress,'" said Jody sharply.

"B-b-but . . ." began Grant, but Jody drew her hand back and slapped Grant in the face. Grant shut up.

"No more nonsense," said Jody, "or next time it'll be your balls instead of your face. Now PICK UP YOUR CLOTHES."

"Yes, m-m-mistress," said Grant.

Grant bent over, and began picking up his clothes and folding them neatly. As he did so, he suddenly felt a sharp pain on his ass. Jody was standing behind Grant with a paddle, and she had just spanked him with it.

"This is just to encourage you to be productive," said Jody. "I'm going to keep doing this," Jody spanked Grant again, "until you are finished folding your clothes."

Grant folded his clothes and Jody, true to her work, spanked kept spanking Grant's ass as he did so. She did not stop until Grant meekly handed her his clothes, folded neatly. She took them, and placed them in a drawer.

"Now," said Jody, "slack off again, and you will find me, standing behind you, with this paddle. Obey me, and you will be rewarded."

"Yes mistress," replied Grant.

"Good," said Jody with approval, "you are obeying me.  Now for the reward.  You may stroke yourself."

"What?!" asked Grant, forgetting himself.

SMACK!

"I told you that you are to obey me," said Jody sharply.  "Now stroke yourself."

Grant proceeded to stroke his cock, but hard as he was, he was unable to make himself cum, even after several minutes of stroking.

SMACK!

"You're slacking off again," said Jody. 

Grant redoubled his efforts, but remained unable to cum.

SMACK!

"That's IT," said Jody, "I'm calling Cindy.  Go bring me the phone."

That did it.  Not the threat to call Cindy, but the order.  Grant's conditioning left him unable to cum unless a woman was ordering him to perform a task.  Cindy's order to fetch the telephone caused a white geyser to erupt from Grant's cock, and fall to the hard wood floor.  Without even waiting for an order, Grant ran to the adjuoining washroom, grabbed some toilet paper, and wiped the semen from Jody's floor.  Jody handed Grant back his clothes.

"Fine," said Jody.  "But I want you back in my office first thing tomorrow morning, understand SLAVE?"

"Yes mistress," replied Grant.  He dressed and walked out, hoping that his there were no visible marks on his ass that would alert Cindy of what had been taking place in Jody's office.