Rodney's Nude Humiliation Ch. 09

Subsided, she discretely closed the curtains, just as three boys were swaying and bucking in the grips of their second orgasm, in one case white fluid spilling down the girls' chin. The girls glued to the pricks, golloping away with abandon.

Mrs Reilly steadied herself. Inhaled on the Camel. Sipped the J and B. Recovered her poise.

She thought of Shakespeare, from his greatest tragedy, King Lear, reflecting on the ruttish desire of females, just confirmed by what she had seen through those lenses. These cunning young women were far from the Madona figures men may imagine: "Down from the waist they are centaurs, though women all above. But to the girdle do the gods inherit; beneath is all the fiends.' "

Governed by the devil, indeed, were those young females she had just seen, slaking their curiosity and sucking happily on penis stems. She moved to the other embrasure and peered out. Oh, how sweet. The two fellas on her driveway, Ricky and Teddy, were busy at work on her Pontiac, bending over the car body scrubbing away. And their lean, cleft bottoms presented themselves to the stream of lady visitors, stopping to stare as they reached her front steps, even twisting their heads to look, if they could, at the front of the boys, even as the embarrassed fellas hugged the car to shield themselves.

Hard for them to keep sheltered- and Miss Reilly could see it all- because they were both half erect. The tips of their pricks were rubbing up against the bodywork of her car. And that prick of Teddy's! What a lark! And, how nice, her friend Miss Stevens seemed to have got herself a tantalising glimpse of it and it had brought a big smile to her features as she relished the banana curve, the broad, flattened coollie hat, his compact pair of balls swinging back and forth between his legs like a dog.

Miss Stevens stared from the steps. Grinning wolfishly. Teddy appeared to be pressing his midriff into a fender to escape her scrutiny.

Miss Reilly turned and began to dress.

First, her bullet bra, salmon pink, with taffeta trim.

Next, those Paris panties with high elasticised waist and leg bands. In girly pink, with cream bows, it had a most obscene feature: a tailored opening in the groin which allowed easy access to her vagina.

Then her high waist Perma-lift girdle, with hip padding and metal snaps front and back- a stiff light gray fabric with bone reinforcements.

Next her seamed, ultra sheer stockings, drawn up her legs and snapped into place...and, then, finally, over her shoulders a luxurious slip in rayon satin with rich lace and pleats- almond and salmon pink.

She admired the hour glass perfection in the mirror, then the devastatingly slender side view. Long leg bent, shoe tilted, heel raised, playing with a suspender belt.

She thought, "If I let one of those 18 year olds feast his eyes, the poor boy would spill his seminal fluids into cupped hands within a few seconds. All of them, fetishists. A view of stockinged thighs and their little cocks stretch to the ceiling!"

She shrugged into her black $85 Hector Riveria cocktail dress and smoothed its skirts. She deftly sprayed some rich and sultry Femme de Rochas, dousing the reek of lust that wafted from her groin.

As she prepared to leave her loft she took in the picture of her favorite politician, Wisconsin's Senator Joe McCarthy. Her correspondence with him was now sheathed between leather covers in her library. She had written applauding his fight against state department commies and enclosing a $100 cheque. One thing had led to another, ultimately a night together in the Palmer House, Chicago. Exhaustion, from chairing the Senate committee on investigations: that was the only way she could explain his falling asleep so quickly, snoring and breathing whiskey, but if she had eased the burdens of office for only an evening what a contribution to the health of the republic she had made, how proud she could be.

How misunderstood a man but what a fighter for their country's values.

Stepping carefully down the steep and narrow staircase she thought that these burdens were now shouldered by her, specifically the inculcation of proper attitudes to authority and duty among youths drawn to delinquency by the decadent values around them. At the bottom of her staircase, as if confronting the problem personified, she walked into the four 18 year old boys brought here for punishment by their mothers. They were standing in their white boxer shorts, everything else removed, even shoes and socks.

They started, like young deer caught in a forest glade.

She got a close-up glimpse of Rodney Ricketson as she passed. Athletic young man indeed. And with a very noticeable bulge in his white boxers, rounding the front of them in fact. He saw her looking and blushed and shivered. How fondly she recalled seeing him model the absurd Indian costume in his mother's living room. How vividly she recalled seeing his penis with its fleshy, mushroomy head; his dangling ball sack. He was a young bull, by any test. How sweet it had been for her to humiliate him on that occasion. And how she had relived the scene when she had got home that evening.

Well, young man, she thought, today you will be punished fully nude in front of 30 ladies and a big party of school girls especially invited. And then you will be introduced to the solemn, sacerdotal world of supervised masturbation, with Mom and girls fully participating. And Dr Speight as well, an old friend, currently in town for school medicals, who has a lively interest in male adolescent sexual development.

And head high, the fingers of one hand playing with her pearls Mrs Freia Brunnhilde Reilly (nee Hunding) walked through the passage and into the living room.

It was a theatrical setting. Large windows allowed summer light to surge through the embrasures and capture the cigarette smoke heavy in the air and illuminate the 30 smartly dressed mature age women and girls in soft, artificial light. They looked as if they might have been gathered for a tableaux, like the patriots in John Trumbull's epic painting of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

The Tiffany lampshades projected shards of color to cornices and pier mirrors with gilt frames and sculpted eagles enlarged the mise-en-scene. The huge canvas of Venus spanking an adolescent Cupid, over the marble fireplace, beamed with promise. Two Negro maids served tea, their heavy breasts appearing to heave with excitement under crisp white, fringed aprons.

And posed on easels around the room were the latest acquisition, paintings from the Eickardt collection, purchased by Miss Reilly as a lot from the Bonham Auction House in New York: Victorian paintings, the artists Laura Knight, Joaquin Sorolla and Max Liebermann, all featuring naked boys at swim, along beaches or riverbanks, in the company of fully dressed girls. Some of the girls were in gloves and hats. The boys were all naked, running along sand, sprawling on rocks, launching row boats. All buck naked. A genre of turn-of-the-century art, that Mrs Reilly had researched, tracked down, nailed at auction.

Over a poised cup and saucer Dr Ida Speight was telling three mothers that their teenage boys would be humbled by full nude punishment. "And I mean full nudity," she explained. "Not just the traditional bared bottom." The mothers were serious. Frowning with concentration they nodded in agreement. If they had overheard, their 18 year old sons, out on the school basket ball court, or working out at the Y, might have trembled with fear.

Two girls peered in close to Laura Knight's painting of a an English beach scene. Its impressionistic strokes showed a nude 18 year old boy shaking off water surrounded by three more mature girls in hats and gloves and satin and crepe, unabashedly curious. Across a gap of half a century the girls from Grover Cleveland High in Brewer, Minnessotta, recognised a situation they hungered after: fellas stripped of their clothing, girls fully attired. They nudged one another and snickered.

A party of standing school girls was poring over the photo album that Mrs Campbell had brought. And from the corridor Mark, to his horror, could see them. Even see the page they were looking at and beaming and gasping and giggling over: the page with the big black and white shot of him striding along the edge of the pool with his erection jutting out in front. Mouths open in wonder, they looked from the album up, across the room, to the frightened boy...and caught his appalled eyes. And laughed. Soon they would open the page with the pic his aunt had snapped when he was on the blocks, waiting to race, with an up-reared penis like a ship's cannon; and under it, the obscene close-up that even displayed the raphe that divided his scrotum and the ridges that ran from the raphe. They would be giggling and pointing at a photo of his balls!

Three seated mothers carefully leafed through the contents of a green manila folder with the evidence that had condemned the four boys being trialed here today: the Scandinavian nudist magazines, their pages incriminatingly curled and withered with caked semen. Rodney saw them, and what they were holding, and now passing to another group of horrified mothers, and wanted to faint with shame.

And in the front row the four mothers who were today's featured performers sat expectantly. They were wearing gray dust coats handed them by the maids; and holding cans of Johnson's Baby Powder and broad wooden hairbrushes. They glanced at the entrance. They caught glimpses of their sons, stripped to their shorts, fully deserving the punishment that awaited. Since the shocking revelation out of Rodney's bedroom they had practised this kind of punishment on each others' sons- oh, yes, things had developed fast in Brewer- and were enjoying it more and more. The spanking, the enforced nudity and the other thing...the supervision.

Miss Reilly assumed her position at the head of the gathering and her guests murmured their thanks, just stopped short of applause.

The imposing and elegant woman welcomed all of them, with special warmth for the girls who were attending the first of these afternoon teas. She wanted first of all, she said, to give effect to one house-keeping announcement. She paused. There was a hush. She said she would like four boys waiting in the corridor to join them and stand behind her. She signalled to them, standing just outside the room. She could see Rodney wince, the others go white. Then, resignedly, they shuffled in, to the delight of the ladies and, even more, the dozen or so schoolgirls. The boys found their spot, and stood facing the female audience. They hung their heads.

Their female captors took in their wiry physiques. They noted the black hair that covered small Stevie's torso, the swimmers' builds of Rodney and Mark, the stocky muscles of Kerry, a wrestler perhaps. Looking closer...was that a little, pointy bulge in young Stevie's boxer shorts? A rounded parcel in Rodney's white cotton covered groin? The hint of a downward, sideways poke in the right leg of Kerry's?

The boys hung their heads.

Then Mrs Reilly "without further adoo" called on Dr Ida Speight, physician and researcher for the Kinsey project, to introduce the subject of male adolescent behaviour and discipline. Mrs Reilly took her seat and Dr Speight, standing in front of the shamed, near-naked boys, sailed into her subject, describing the bodily changes that adolescence brings to the male. With every reference to growth in genital size or arrival of body hair, the boys were engulfed in full-body blushes, that had girls and ladies tittering. Thrillingly for the females, Dr Speight dwelt on the subject of erections. The boys felt every female eye on them, on their groins especially, where to be truthful some tentative swelling and repositioning was certainly suggested.

"This physiological phenomenon sees the boys' penis become firm, longer, enlarged. The old fashioned term was engorgment. The shape may vary considerably, also the size..."

Stevie felt faint. A dot of moisture appeared on his shorts. He examined the polished pine floor.

"...and differences in size and shape are very familiar to me from my work as a school doctor. I've conducted over a thousand full nude and lengthy examinations of 18 year olds. From these and from my researches with Dr Kinsey I can say that shape and size of the penis are a matter of anxiety to almost all boys."

Here she paused and looked behind her at the standing males who stared hard at the floor. Stevie's spot had grown to the size of a dime and there definitely seemed to be force of nature jutting behind it. Rodney's rounded bulge had firmed. A jut was now confirming itself in the right leg of Kerry's shorts.

Dr Speight resumed by describing involuntary erections that appeared on all occasions she had required schoolboys to remove their clothes. Sometimes, she said, it happened the moment a boy's underwear came down. Females tittered. Other times when he lay on the examining table. Sometimes he was "flaccid" until she was required to handle his genitals but then, upon touch, his penis might lengthen and thicken.

"This is nearly always a trauma for them, because they fear producing an erection in full view of a female doctor and..."

Girls snickered, looked at the boys trying to catch their eyes. But their blushing schoolmates kept staring at the floor.

"...whatever other female may be in the examining room."

There was a flutter in the room.

"Oh, only a visit by the principal's secretary, for example, or a schoolgirl with a message or an upset tummy or headache who needs immediate treatment. They can find themselves entering the room when the young male is completely clothes free and in a state of erection. This can be an acute experience for the boys, if the girl happens to be in their class or live in their street or even be a sister. Don't laugh, it's happened! And one can always involve a mother. I have when I thought it would help with a boy's discipline. Or when he had a medical condition, like a tight foreskin, I wanted to share with her."

Before long, Dr Speight was homing in on an accounts of the disciplinary theories of a Sarah Maitland who had worked as a governess and school teacher in England in the early 1900s and had enjoyed full reign to implement theories of full nude punishment when running a boys' school in India during World War One; later in the Carribean and in US detention institutions. Dr Speight gave examples of Sarah Maitland's regimes that included having errant boys strip completely for caning and over-the-knee spanking. She also made them wait totally naked in school corridors in full sight of sari-clad cleaners and maids. She once told an entire class of boys to strip and work at the benches of the chemistry lab without a stitch, in full view of their female teacher.

Running a school for the promising sons of Nergo families in Jamaica she had enforced cleanliness by having volunteer mothers from English colonial families supervise the black boys' bathing, introducing them to baths and penile and anal cleanliness.

"Let me quote one passage from her book."

Dr Speight picked up a volume printed on cheap wartime paper entitled "Love and Discipline: Ordering the Young Male."

"In this passage Miss Maitland came to the heart of her theory about full nude punishment. I love this passage. She writes, 'I advocate a boys-only, female-administered discipline regime ongoing through the teenage years. I favor spankings, powerful ones delivered by females. Spankings deliver a strong, unspoken message connecting power and sensuality and when a youth is hit on the buttocks blood rushes to the area causing a tingling in the genitals. The exposure of the penis of a denuded youth in a humiliation setting, yet one full of attention and sympathy, can have a profound emotional and sexual impact on the punished youngster, especially if he is displaying a sexual responsiveness, a common, inadvertent occurrence among adolescent males. Hence, a well punished boy loses more than just his britches when he is spanked..."

Here there was a tinkle of polite laughter. The girls beamed. All eyes were on the males standing blushing behind the speaker.

"...the typical teenage male's allegiance to aggressive, dominant, often abusive masculinity is replaced with a passive respect.' "

And Dr Speight insisted that Sarah Maitland's theory found that the optimal results were always when clothing deprivation was total- that is, did not stop at a bared bottom- but involved boys being buck naked and for long periods. Even- and this caused an intake of breath and giggles from the girls- for days at a time. Also, when exposure involved other female witnesses. These could be aunts, Grandmoms, neighbours, sisters and their friends. It didn't matter; what did matter was that females witnessed their shame.

While the boys behind her shivered with fear she spoke glowingly about the role of "penile exposure," and the psychological aspects of involuntary erections- this term caused an intake of breath from the females- in the mother-administered discipline of 18 year old boys.

The girls glowed with expectation.

Mothers related this theorising to their own experience. Some of Brewer's mothers had had much to think about. At Mrs Reilly's last tea three mothers had reported on their encounters with their sons's masturbatory secrets and their punishment, also the regimes of supervised masturbation they had put in place. Encouraged, others had begun to experiment. They had inspected sheets and pyjamas and found telltale stains and looked under piles of Popular Mechanics or Sports Illustrated for obscene literature. They had ventured into, first, nude punishment of the errant boys and, in several cases, an insistence that from now on the self- abuse be conducted right under their noses. Just as in the theories being presented them, the boys were shamed and submissive.

Mrs Reilly turned to the agenda.

Time to punish boys who had been caught stark naked, masturbating together, in front of those "unspeakably" filthy publications that had been circulated this afternoon. While masturbating themselves the boys had been overheard making many disparaging comments about womenfolk.

The boys behind her- here she turned and stared cruelly at them and made them shudder- would now be punished by their mothers. In full view of them all. A model punishment as a warning to the boys of Brewer and an inspiration to other Moms in dealing with errant 18 year olds.

She paused.

One could hear the audience breathe and the frightened animal pant of terrified boys.

"Kerry Fulbright, step forward and face your mother."

Kerry shuffled forward and stood at her knees. Something in his right boxer leg was poking downward, hard.

His tummy muscles twitched with nerves. His eyes opened and shut. He looked close to tears. For a second- over his mother's dyed orange hair- he saw seated ladies leaning closer, and beyond them a group who had risen to their feet so as not to miss the view of his Yoke-front boxer shorts descending. The girls, too, faces aglow, eyes popping, smiles radiating.

His mother's hands, finger nails painted red, seemed to hover before him.

He felt her nails at his waist.

They thrilled his sensitive skin.

They took hold of the waist band.

They tugged.

His boxers began their descent.

His pubic curls came into view. Things seemed to stall. His semi-erection, his elegant seven inch penis cleaving to the right, was catching his pants. His mother saw the problem and jiggled and tugged the cotton. His penis sprang free- happy and bold- and into view, to a hushed but universal thrilling from the audience...as the boxers slithered to his thighs, his knees, his calves, his ankles.