Chapter 10: Events of Miss Prescott's Boy Victim Recounted
Monica Prescott shuddered as she digested Dr. Withers' suggestion that it might be good therapy sometime in the future for her to be exposed naked in front of a group of people. In her state of trepidation, Monica had instinctively crossed her arms over her bra-covered chest. Dr. Withers was about to reprimand her, but she decided to let it go, as she was interested in taking the session in a different direction.
"Okay, I'd like you to tell me about some of other punishments that you doled out in the schools. We've been focusing mainly on your female victims. You mentioned in our last session that you also really enjoyed humiliating the boys. Let's talk about that."
"Um....yes, sometimes the boys deserved to be punished, too."
"Tell me about that. Did you try to embarrass them?" Dr. Withers was hoping to get her patient "lost" in her humiliation escapades as she had done before.
"Yes. As you know I thought it was a very effective tactic."
"I'm sure it was. What was one of your favorite techniques that you used on the boys?"
"Well, of course, having them remove articles of clothing was always a surefire way to embarrass them. Also....and I'm not sure why this is....but the boys really hated it when I made them put on any type of female clothing."
"Oh, I'm sure. Did you employ that method often?"
"A few times. I remember the first time I did it. It wasn't even clothing, but it was feminine and had the same effect. They were bunny ears, pink ones. I had some of those laying around and I thought it might be a fun idea to use it on one of the boys as a shame punishment. So I kept it in my bag that I brought to school, and a couple of days later a boy misbehaved—nothing major, I think he was just talking to the girl next to him. But I was dying to utilize the bunny ears, so I reached into my bag, pulled them out and placed them on his head. I knew he would hate it, but it was even better than I thought. I mean, he was beet red for the whole hour I made him wear them. His fellow students were giggling at him and....oh, my goodness, it was really stimulating!"
Monica had lowered her hands to her lap. Dr. Withers took in the wide-eyed expression on her patient's face and knew she was getting caught up in her humiliation adventures and wouldn't need much prodding to go into more detail. "And you knew you were on to something there," prodded Dr. Withers anyway.
"Well, yes! I figured if a boy can get so embarrassed over some simple bunny ears, just think how effective some girl's
clothing would be."
"So you progressed to female clothing. Tell me about the first time you employed that method."
"Well," said Monica enthusiastically, "I was so excited by the bunny ears scene that I went out shopping that night and picked out a few items that I thought might come in handy some day. I would bring them with me to school every day in hopes of using them on some poor boy.
"Anyway, I got my wish just a couple of weeks later. It was at a different school in the same district. I had a sophomore class that day—I prefer them younger than that, but whatever—and I caught this bully-type boy tossing paper spitballs at the kid in front of him. I told him to stand up. When he did, I dug into my bag and pulled out a very feminine, baby blue article of clothing."
"What was it, exactly?" asked a very interested Dr. Withers.
"It's hard to explain," said Monica. "It's a cross between a dress and....I don't know, I guess it could qualify as lingerie. All I know is that I was getting quite excited to humiliate the lad. Oh, would you like to see it? I have a picture of it on my phone."
"Sure," said Dr. Withers, who was only mildly surprised that Monica kept the picture on her phone.
"Unfortunately I don't have one of the boy while he was wearing it. But this is what it looked like."
Monica proceeded to reach into her pocket an pull up the picture for the intrigued Dr. Withers. It looked like this:
"Oh my," said Dr. Withers. "Yes, that would be quite embarrassing, indeed. Did you make him put it on? And the panties, too?" she asked hopefully.
"Yes!" said the animated Monica. "That was my favorite part. So first I just pulled out the dress. I held it up and he just looked at me quizzically. I said 'For your punishment you're going to wear this for the rest of the period.' He had a look on his face that just said 'no way.' I asked him if I needed to talk to the principal about this. I was aware that he had a history, and that another incident would set him up for at least a suspension.
"I could tell by the look on his face that I had him. 'Now take your shirt off and put this on,' I said. He paused for a moment, but he knew what he had to do. So he took off his shirt."
"What kind of body did he have?" asked the doctor.
Monica was so caught up in the story that she didn't even consider what relevance the question had. Of course there was none, other than Caroline Withers' prurient interest.
"It was....more developed than I usually like. He was a bit husky and well into puberty. But I wasn't going to let that stop me. <
giggle> There was way too much potential for some great humiliation.
"Anyway," she continued without hesitation, "He pulled the dress over his head. Everybody was laughing at him and his face was so red! It was awesome! Then I reached into my bag and pulled out the panties and held them up, spread out. I had a big grin on my face. And the look on his face! Oh my God. Then I said, 'After you take your shoes and socks off, take off your pants.' He couldn't believe it, but I had him totally under my control. Gosh, it was so awesome to have him so subservient and humiliated. He removed his shoes and socks, then reached under the dress and unbuckled his jeans and slipped them off. But I wasn't done. 'Now your underpants,' I said. His classmates couldn't believe what was happening. He almost looked like he wanted to cry. But he was mine. He reached under the dress again—it came down to just above mid thigh—and slipped off his boxers. I held out the panties and said, 'Put these on.' And he did!"
"So you were really enjoying yourself, since he must have been really feeling the humiliation. Did you make him get naked?"
"No, I didn't. He had these hairy legs, and, I don't know....he just wasn't the type that I like to employ forced nudity on. But I did expose him in the panties, and that was really fun. With about five minutes left in the period, I called him up to the front and said, 'I'll take the dress back now.' He hemmed and hawed, and asked for his pants, but I wanted everyone to laugh at him while he was just in the panties. Which is exactly what happened. I made him stand there in just the panties for a few moments so I could soak in his humiliation while everyone laughed at him." Monica paused for a moment and looked fixedly at her psychiatrist, who returned her gaze with an understanding nod. "Anyway, I let him put the dress back on so he wouldn't be naked, then he took off the panties and got dressed."
"You said he wasn't the type that you like to strip naked. What is that type for you?"
"Well, I prefer to do that to the more underdeveloped boys, the ones who haven't reached puberty yet, unlike most of their peers. At that age—and I'm talking about 13 or 14, usually an eighth grader or a freshman—I've observed that they are extremely self-conscious about their bodies, and especially about the fact that just about all of their friends and fellow students have developed, growing bodily hair and also bigger penises."
"So you prefer to strip the boys with small penises and not much body hair."
"Oh, yes! I have to tell you about this one boy. I was substituting for an eighth grade class for an extended period—the regular teacher had some surgery done and would be out for three weeks—and I had this one boy sized up that I was just hoping would make a false step so I could do him. His name was David. He was either thirteen or fourteen at the time—it was late in the school year so he could well have been fourteen—but he was obviously a slow developer and didn't look a day over eleven, maybe twelve. He had blond hair, blue eyes and this innocent looking baby face, and a nice, slim physique. He was perfect! And I knew that if I could get him to shed some clothing in front of everybody that his embarrassment level would be through the roof! Anyway, as luck would have it, on the very last day of my three week stint the poor lad made a mistake that I'm sure he'll regret until his dying day."
"What was the transgression?" asked Dr. Withers, whose excitement level was growing in her anticipation.
"It was actually outside, during the afternoon recess. I happened to be looking out the window, and David caught my eye. There was a walkway that was repaved in the yard that was cordoned off to protect the fresh cement. Well, the little rascal reached over the yellow tape and carved his initials in big letters with a stick. I have to admit that I was grinning from ear to ear, knowing that was all the ammunition I needed for an excuse to do David.
"After the kids came back in and settled down I addressed him. 'David, is there anything you want to tell me about your recess activities?' His face went white and he couldn't conceal the guilty look on his face. I didn't want to waste any precious time so I said, 'I saw what you did on the new cement.' His shoulders slumped and he was very apologetic. Of course his apologies would get him nowhere. 'I'm afraid you need to be punished for your actions, David,' I said solemnly. 'Do you know the meaning of shame punishment?' I asked him. I had a teacher who was known to use that very question before punishing one of her students. I think it had a very strong effect on the student, knowing he or she was about to be shamed. I knew by the look of terror on his face that it certainly hit home with him. He didn't answer, so I continued. 'I'd like you to take off your shoes and socks and bring them to me, please.'
"I could tell by the looks of wonder on most of the other kids' faces that, though they didn't know exactly what was about to transpire, they were now quite interested in the nature of David's punishment. It took David a minute to gather himself, but he saw how serious I was and obediently removed his shoes and socks and walked up the aisle with them. He looked like a frightened puppy.
"I took them from him and deposited them in the bottom drawer of my desk, then approached him. I have to say my heart was beating a mile a minute with excitement. I decided it would be
sodelicious to undress him myself. But first I wanted to be assured that there would be no resistance. So I put my hands on his shoulders, looked him in the eyes and said, 'You do realize, David, that defacing school property is grounds for expulsion. How do you think your parents would react if that happened?' The frightened look on his face was all I needed. 'So,' I said. 'We can either take care of your punishment right here and now, or I can march you down to the principal's office and let him and your parents handle it.' I don't think he liked either option, but the notion of his parents being involved did the trick. So he was mine.
"I reached for the top button of his shirt and unbuttoned it. 'Since that was a shameful thing you did out there, I'm afraid you're going to have to be shamed, David,' I said as I continued to unbutton his shirt. 'If I make you spend the next hour or so wearing just your underpants, I think that would do the trick, don't you?' He was now petrified. 'Please, Miss Prescott,' he pleaded. 'I promise I won't do anything like that again. I promise!' Oh, the poor boy was desperate! 'It's too late, David,' I said as I pulled his shirt from his pants and slipped it off his arms.
"He was wearing a white undershirt. I thought it might be nice to have his classmates take in his red face, so I turned him around to face them. I took hold of his wrists and gently lifted his arms up above his head. 'Hold your arms up
niiiice and high for me,' I said. I let go and he obeyed. 'Good boy, David,' I said as I pulled his undershirt up and off.
"There was kind of an uproar from his classmates—I'm sure they were incredulous—and David dropped his arms to his sides. 'Did I say you could put your arms down?' I reprimanded. He quickly raised them back up, and I turned him around to face me. It was such a lovely sight..."
"Describe what he looked like to you right then," asked the curious, deviant doctor.
"Oh, I was in heaven," responded her even more deviant patient. "Here I had this half-naked—and soon to be more than half-naked <
giggle>—student at my beck and call. His skin was so smooth....not a trace of hair anywhere below his head so far. He was blushing up a storm, and was certainly terrified about the prospect of being stripped to his underpants. And that only egged me on.
"I moved closer to him and began undoing his belt. His breathing got a little quicker. I thought it was cute how his bare tummy moved in and out. And his hands were still high in the air. I told him he could rest them on his head if it was more comfortable, which he did. Either way I had free reign to depants the poor lad. Without further ado I unclasped his pants, pulled down his zipper and started drawing down his pants. Behind him there were gasps of—I guess you could say gasps of astonishment, and definitely a fair amount of enjoyment—when his underpants became fully exposed. He was wearing those white briefs—the kids call them 'tighty whities'—and when I pulled his pants free from his feet, he was a sight for sore eyes."
"What did his legs look like?" asked Dr. Withers.
"They were kind of pretty, actually. <
giggle> Smooth, no hair—a little bit of peach fuzz, but that was it. And they were shaped just right, slender but not skinny." Monica smiled at the recollection.
"So, was he able to keep his hands on his head after you exposed his underpants?"
"He did. I'm sure it was really hard for him. But he was very compliant. I think, under the circumstances, that he was afraid to cross me."
"I'm sure you looked at his underpants closely. How big of a bulge did he have?"
Monica answered without hesitation, again not even thinking to question the relevance of the psychiatrist's question. It was one pervert talking to another with no sense of judgment. "Not much at all!" <
giggle> "It was just delightful. I don't think I could have asked for a better subject."
"So then what happened?" prompted Dr. Withers, who was quite anxious to hear more details.
"So I told him he could go back to his desk and think about his misdeed while sitting in his underpants. It was so cute—he kept his hands on his head during the walk to his desk. I let him sit there like that for awhile. It was really something. He was leaning forward a little bit and his knees were clenched tightly together. His face was tomato red, and of course he knew that everybody was staring at him.
"After a couple of minutes I told him he could relax his arms. He immediately dropped them and covered his little bump with both hands. It was so cute!
"I started reading from the history textbook. Occasionally while I was reading I would meander down his aisle. I'd stop at his desk, look him over and just smile at him."
"Did you take it to the next level?" asked Caroline hopefully. Monica knew exactly what she meant, of course.
"Well, I wasn't planning on getting him naked, but....I don't know, the more I looked at him sitting there all red-faced and humiliated, the more I knew that I just
had to take the next step. Oh, and you'll
love the way I did it. I'm standing in the front reading aloud, then I paused and looked up from my book. 'David,' I said casually, 'could you kindly spread your underpants out on top of your desk for me?' Oh, my goodness, the look on his face of shock and horror was precious! And the hubbub from his fellow students was something. I'm sure they were as incredulous as David that I was asking him to get naked....but they were enjoying the idea a lot more than he was. <
giggle>"
"So did he do it?" asked the tickled and stimulated Dr. Withers.
"Well, like I said, he was very obedient. I was pretty sure at that point that he wasn't going to challenge me. It took him a bit to build up the courage, but after sitting motionless for a few moments he suddenly reached down, slipped off his undies and laid them on his desk. He was naked! Oh, my, I can still picture it vividly to this day." Monica had a smile on her face and a faraway look in her eyes as she revisited what for her was a very pleasurable scene. "He was clutching his privates for dear life while his fellow students looked on in amazement. He had a grinning girl on either side of him and they were both craning their necks, trying to get a peek at his genitals.
"I was almost overcome with delight, but I kept reading aloud from the history book like nothing else was going on. At one point I strolled down his aisle while continuing to read. I looked at him and smiled as I passed him by. Then I turned around, and on the way back I casually slid his underpants from his desk and stuffed them in my pocket. A lot of the kids were giggling. I didn't turn back to see his reaction, but I can imagine he was pretty distressed. I mean, can you imagine?"
"Oh yes," answered Dr. Withers. It was probably a rhetorical question, but the psychiatrist was getting caught up in her patient's story and momentarily forgot her place. "I mean, the poor lad was sitting there stark naked, and you just took possession of his last remaining article of clothing. I'm sure he was beside himself!"
"Oh, absolutely!" replied Monica. Both women had a smile on their face and a faraway look in their eyes, as though they were picturing and relishing the scene in their mind.
"Did you, or anyone else get to see his penis?" asked Dr. Withers.
"Well, I had gone that far—I mean, I had him naked! So yes, I had to see him in all his glory." Monica paused and looked at Dr. Withers. "More humiliation for him, right?"
"Of course," answered the doctor.
"I looked at the clock and there were only a few minutes left, so it was then or not at all. 'David, could you come up here, please?' I said. He bolted upright in his seat. I'm sure he was incredulous of what I was asking him to do. He didn't budge, so I said, 'If you want to get your clothes back, David, you're going to have to come up here right now. Otherwise I'm going to lock them in my drawer and you can just go home as you are.'"
"Oh, my," said the enthralled Dr. Withers. "So did he do it?" she asked hopefully.
"Indeed he did!" responded Monica. Her stimulation from reliving the event was evident with the ever increasing excitement in her voice and the wide-eyed expression on her face. "He was quite a vision as he scooted up to the front of the room naked, with his hands firmly clutched over his manho....I mean his boyhood." Monica giggled and looked at the psychiatrist, who smiled in return. "Anyway, he was standing there facing me, trembling and staring down at the floor. I let it play out for a few moments—I mean, I was in humiliation heaven and I didn't want it to end! Then I held out my hands, palms up and said, 'Give me your hands.' He couldn't pull the trigger, so I said, 'I said give me your hands,' only with much more.....more authoritativeness. He managed to extricate his hands from his privates and I took them in mine while staring down at his nakedness."
"Can you describe what you saw?" interrupted Dr. Withers, unable to resist.
"Oh, it was delectable, Dr. Withers! As I expected, he was way behind in his development for his age. There was no hair whatsoever and his little penis was....well, let's just say it reminded me of a baby turtle's head peeking out of its shell." Both ladies laughed.
"What about his testicles?" asked the depraved doctor.
"They were undersized, too!" answered the animated Monica without hesitation. "And they were all shriveled up. I suspect his embarrassment probably had something to do with that." Dr. Withers nodded. "In any case, like I say, it was a delectable sight. I don't think the poor boy could have been any more embarrassed. I could tell he wanted so badly to cover up—a couple of times he made an effort to pull his hands from mine, but I squeezed them and wouldn't let go. He eventually was resigned to his fate and just rested his hands in mine."
"Did you share his front side with his classmates?" asked Dr. Withers.
"You know, I never did. I thought about it, but his humiliation was already sky high, and I was pretty satisfied having him all to myself, so to speak. We were having a nice moment," said Monica with a devious smile. "Although I did manage to ratchet his humiliation up a bit before I gave him his clothes back. And at the same time I also afforded his classmates a pretty good mental image of what I was looking at."
"Tell me about that," prodded the highly enraptured Dr. Withers.
"Well, for starters, he was staring straight down. I wanted him to be more engaged with me and with his humiliation. So I rectified that. 'Look me in the eyes, David,' I said. He did, and I really enjoyed that, because you can really perceive their humiliation in their eyes. When he looked at me—gosh, he had these big, beautiful blue eyes, and I could almost taste the humiliation he was feeling. It was exquisite.
"Then, while I knew he was looking at me, I made a point of looking down at his hairless little penis and cracking a smile while I stared at it. Then I looked back up at him and smiled some more. Not a word was spoken—none were necessary—but that whole interaction spoke volumes. The look on his face—and he was blushing crimson—oh, my goodness, his humiliation level was off the charts!"
"Oh, I can imagine!" said Dr. Withers. "I'm sure he wanted to just die right on the spot."
"Oh, I'm sure!" responded Monica. "And I wasn't quite done. Like I say, I didn't want the session to end. And I wanted to involve him more, so I made him converse with me. So while continuing to hold his hands, I looked him in the eyes and said, 'Do you think you've learned your lesson, David? Has the shame punishment worked?' He just nodded, so I said, 'I need you to tell me the shame punishment worked, and that you'll be a good boy from now on.' He said, 'I'll be a good boy from now on.' His voice was quivering. I smiled and said, 'So you feel sufficiently shamed and embarrassed?' Again he just nodded. 'I'd like you to speak when responding to me.' So he just said yes and I said, 'Yes, what?' 'I'm sufficiently embarrassed,' he said. He was looking very anxious, shifting his feet back and forth. It was so cute!
"Then I said, 'What are you embarrassed about, David?' He just looked at me, not knowing what to say. So I said, 'Tell me, in your own words why you are so red-faced and embarrassed.' He finally said—and he stuttered a little bit, since I'm sure he was pretty flustered—he finally said, 'Because I'm not wearing any clothes.' I said, 'Indeed, you're standing here stark naked in front of me and all of your classmates. It's no
wonder you're so embarrassed!' I let that sit there for a moment or two, then I looked down at his privates, then back up at him and said, 'Is it extra embarrassing for you because you have a teeny-weeny pee-pee and there is no hair on it?'
"Oh my," chimed in Dr. Withers.
"I know!" said Monica. "All the students were laughing and his face was glowing like a red neon sign. It was delicious!"
"Did he respond?" asked Dr. Withers.
"He didn't, and I pushed him for a minute, but all he came up with was a mumbled 'I don't know.' He looked like he was about to start crying, and I didn't want that. When they cry it spoils the moment for me." Monica paused and shrugged her shoulders. "So I didn't press it. I just said, 'Well, I'm sure it's adding to your embarrassment that I'm standing here looking at your hairless little pee-pee.' Then I looked down at his little pee-pee and smiled. It was a nice final moment, as the bell rang right then. I squeezed his hands before letting go and said, 'Thank you, David, for the little nudie show. You be a good boy from now on and you'll be able to keep your clothes on.' Then I retrieved the poor boy's clothes and let him get dressed." Monica paused, her face assuming a sort of dreamy expression. "I'll always remember that one fondly," she said.
"Yes, I'm sure you will," responded the psychiatrist.
* * * * *
Dr. Withers rose from her chair, turned and leaned over her desk. She had quite enjoyed the first half of the session, and would also enjoy the upcoming proceedings of the second half. The same could not be said for Monica Prescott.
She pressed the intercom button and said, "Tina, has everyone arrived?"
Tina responded, quite cheerily. "Yes, Dr. Withers. They're all here."
"Great, bring them all in," said Dr. Withers.
Monica, wide-eyed and horror stricken, sat straight up in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, a chest that was covered by only a black, lacy bra. "No!" she screamed.
"All part of the therapy, Miss Prescott," said Dr. Withers as she prepared to greet her guests. "All part of the therapy."
