Rescued by the School Psychologist

Well, you had a feeling that this sort of thing might happen. Really, you didn't put up much resistance when they caught you. No point, really. As the spanking occurs, you just lie limp (although one part of your body does rebel a bit in that area) and take it. You have to, grossly outmatched as you are. Still, you're not going to give them the satisfaction they want. You simply don't react consciously. You let your eyes film over, your face go blank. Through the pain and the humiliation, you do your best to let your mind be somewhere else, a technique often mastered by **** victims.

You also know that this will only make the girls madder, and madder girls tend to make more mistakes. Best case scenario, they'll get bored and leave. Worst case, they'll get so mad they'll kill you. Either way you figure you'll be better off. You find that the girls are getting angrier when you don't respond to what they say.

"Didn't you hear us, you little fuck?" one of them says, kicking you.

"Yeah!" says another, "teach the teacher! Make him scream."

You lose track of time, but it can't be too long since after a moment you hear what sounds like an explosion at the door to the room. Both the door and the chair that was holding it shatter inward and in walks Professor Jessica Flint the school psychologist, idly picking the larger splinters from her knuckles. She gets a good look at what's going on, the girls ganging up and striking you, having tied you up, and you now lying on the floor in a semi-catatonic state. Prof. Flint glares around the room at the girls who seem frozen in their tracks.

"Well aren't you a bunch of strong proud females?" she says sarcastically, "Honestly, it takes all of you to hold down one man, does it? Makes you feel real powerful smashing up some fellow who can't fight back, hmmm? Well?"

She continues to glare. Some of the girls look sheepish while a few, the one who started this among them, are looking defiant. The Professor cracks her knuckles.

"I came here to see if any of you might just amount to something," she says, "aptitude tests for possible high positions, getting you started on your way. I can see now that I shouldn't have bothered. You obviously have far less ambition than we need. I mean, really, look at him."

Flint picks up your limp body, now in incredible pain, marked up by the girls furious blows on your delicate features. You manage to meet her eyes with a hollow look and she shakes her head.

"What did he do?" growls the Professor, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Did he give you a grade you deserved perhaps? You make me sick, all of you. Mr. Stephenson here is coming with me. You on the other hand can do what you like for all the good you'll amount to!"

She slings you over her shoulder, turns on her heel and marches away down the hall...