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4. The Three Laws of Thermodynamics
Hearing them chuckle at my chastity belt didn't phase me. I just strode to the front of these predatory creatures and proclaimed, "Girls, today we are going to study the three laws of Thermodynamics. You will be expected to determine how these laws can be proven. Failure to do so will result in this whole class being detained." I was in a mean mood, quite happy to be malicious to any and every female in this room.
Concerned faces stared at each other. The leader of this pack, a buxom 17 yr old Swedish girl stood up and complained, "Mr. Jefferson, my name is Olga and on behalf of this class, I want to protest such a high handed action".
"I'm not interested in your protest Olga", I yelled. "I'm the male and you are the female. Sit down and shut up." It struck me that as a teacher I was being a bit unfair. But given the events of the day, it made me feel great to dominate the weaker race. So I just let it flow, "So, can anyone tell me the first law of thermodynamics?"
"The conservation of energy" a French Canadian girl sitting at the side of the class ventures.
"Well done. State your name and describe what this means in terms of heat and energy." I encourage."
"Francis", she says reddening, "ahhh, heat=energy" she guesses.
"Only a girl would make such a dumb guess," I say scornfully. "Come on class, don't any of you have a brain? Tell you what, if any of you can get the answer, you can run the rest of this class. If no one can, then this class will be all lectures. I'll expect you all to work during your detention and this evening writing an 4000 word essay on it." I pause watching a bunch of empty female faces, and in triumph, state, "Ok, no one has the answer. Get out your pens and paper and engage those silly brains of yours for a change." I smugly carried on. I had this class on the run and wasn't going to remove my iron glove for a second.
"Excuse me Mr. Jefferson", Olga said putting her hand up.
"Yes" I said impatiently, ready to bite her head off.
The first law of thermodynamics. "If the state of a system is changed by applying heat, then the change in energy in the system must equal the energy applied", she confidently asserts.
I was stunned; a seventeen-year-old girl is simply not smart enough to know a male subject like thermodynamics. "Correct Olga" I mutter.
The Swede advances to the front of the class. She takes my desk chair and places it center stage. Smirking, Olga pats her knees, "You said whoever answered the question was in charge. Now quickly, lie over my lap. We need to prove the first law of thermodynamics." Thanking god I had protection, I shuffle over and lay across her lap wondering how that could prove the first law.
The French Canadian caught on to what Olga was thinking before me. Francis standing up excitingly says, "I get it. The collary of the first law must be that if you apply energy to the state of a system, then the additional heat absorbed must equal the amount of energy applied." Getting excited she carried on. "So if you apply enough energy the state of a system should go red hot. This would prove the first law of thermodynamics." she concludes proudly.
"Well done Frankie. My reasoning exactly. Girls, unless we want detention, we'll have to somehow get the state of the system on my lap red hot." Olga smilingly says patting my bottom to make sure everyone got her point. It clicks what state of matter they are talking about. I struggle to rise, Olga holding tight to the chastity belt. "Quick girls, support Mr. Jefferson's' part in the experiments. Four girls grasp my arms and legs and pull them to the floor. My bum, my God, my unprotected bum, rose prominently above Olga's' lap. Sharpening her nails on my quivering cheeks she merrily instructs, "Ten smacks per silly girl should prove the first law. Want to go first Frankie?"
The French Canadian comes up. Calculates the trajectory and with the strength of a lumberjack, wallops my bum. "Wow, you can even see her handprint" Olga says in awe. "This thermodynamic thing just might work." Frankie carries on her chore with enthusiasm. My ass weaves and bobs to no avail. Every wallop finds its target with unerring accuracy.
Hand upraised the second girl exclaims "Look it's starting to get a little pink" Ten determined spanks ring through the air, followed by ten little gasps. The third girl comments that it's definitely getting pink but is a long way from red. With studied care, she hyperventilates between each spank to maximize the piston power of her right arm. My bum communicates its increasing discomfort by swaying even when not being spanked. Six spanks in, girl four complains that her hand hurts. Francis advices her to pretend her arm is a whip with her fingers the whip end. She curls her arm and whips me with her fingers hard. The pain goes concentrated. My moans get louder. Girls five through nine all decide to have a finger whipping time. Finger spots abound. Girl ten, from Bangladesh, inventively takes off her sneaker and gives my bum ten hard rubber bounces. Girls 11 through 14 decide to sneak in their blows the same way. My bottom cheeks bounce away, forty times. Girls 15, takes off her wide leather belt, and splats down a whistling ten. The red splotches look like a painter gone mad I wish they would stick to one method. Girls 16 and 17 try out their belts. The thin one hurt the most. Girl eighteen takes off her high heels, and gives me the flats for seven goes. She reverses her grip. I learn why dogs learn to heel for the next three drilling turns. My bum is a quivering mass of jelly.
Girl 19, a small Chinese girl steps up and exclaims, "It's red now, but not bright red. I'm not that strong and don't want to be the reason this experiment fails." She stands there with an inscrutable face. It becomes all too scrutable when it spies my long wooden ruler. Reverently, she slowly picks it up with her right hand. She lays the end on my writhing bottom softly saying "Don't worry Mr. Jefferson, I'll make sure the experiment is a success". Lifting the ruler up to the ceiling, her short 2-foot arm transformed into a 5-foot appendage, starts its journey from the arcs' apex. The ruler moves faster. Sound waves give advance warning. The sound waves increase in whistle frequency. Blinding speed hits canvas. A pure red stripe is added. I can't help myself. I begin to cry. The Chinese girl says, "Don't despair Mr. Jefferson, I think this might work". Focusing intently, she neatly draws five more red iron bars beside the first one. Not caring what the girls think, I start to blubber. God, there are still three more. The Chinese girl pauses and kneeling down sing songs "Mr. Jefferson, please be a bit quieter. You're ruining my concentration". She then examines my bottom closely. "But it's only pink between the red bars. I need to do something to even things out," she murmurs to herself. She turns the ruler 90 degrees. It looks like a knife. It screams down and I feel my bum scream up. I yell for her to stop. I can't take it. "Mr. Jefferson, please stop interrupting the experiment," she says cuttingly. Chop, Chop. I sob my eyes out. "There, There Mr. Jefferson," the Chinese girl consoles "It's done now, you were very good"
Olga, caressing my bum soothingly, says in a congratulatory voice, "Well done Kim, you've got the state of matter to a darkish red. But if the law of thermodynamics is to be proved, it must be bright red". The girls worriedly look at each other. Olga is the 20 th and last girl. "I don't know if I'll be able to do it girls, but I'll give it my best shot".
What happened next, was either because of the additional leverage Olga had, holding me over her lap, or, some gene that gave Swedish women strong right arm. Her first spank, on my dark red bum sent a pulse through my neural network. I throw all the girls holding me, flat on their backs. "Two girls per arm and leg" Olga orders flexing her arm athletically. Eight girls thread my appendages through the bottom of the chair. My hands and feet switch positions. My bum is geometrically changed to a large red rubber ball. The skin stretches to accommodate the increased surface area. Olga calculating her newly shaped target says, "That's better girls, now its like playing volleyball". Five hard serves bounce my ball higher and higher. The girls clap out the time. I'm beside myself. The heat is starting to saturate the chastity belt. My pokey and balls feel like they are in an oven. Four more spanks remain. I struggle to escape but eight girls are too many. They pull until satisfied my bum is perfectly round. Olga blows on her hand, raises it as high as she can and brings it down with the power of a jackhammer. My bum briefly flickers and then goes out.
"Did you see that?" the girls excitedly said. "We have a chance". After the next jackhammer blow, my bum flickers a bit longer. On the ninth blow, it flickers for over five seconds. The suspense was killing the girls. "Please Olga", they beg, "We have only one more chance to turn it on". Olga draws deep into her maniac reserves. With a Viking cry, she spanks my bum with the strength of Hercules. An enormous amount of heat dissipates all Blood-Bum electrical resistance. Superconductivity kicks in. My bum commences a state change. It flickers, glimmers, shimmers, twinkles and sparkles. Transition change completes. A bright red glow shines from my bottom. One of the girls turned out the lights while others pull the blinds. "She did it. She really did it". They kneel in the dark, in worship, watching my bum glow, like a red beacon lighting the way to nirvana.
Heat rapidly escapes from the system. The beacon stutters, splutters and finally falters. Eyes adjusting to the dark, they solemnly approach their failed item of worship. The animals go marching two by two. They knead, massage, and pinch my bum, hoping to turn the light back on. To no avail, electrical resistance was back. They open the blinds and turn the light back on. Olga grabs my hair and pulling my head back, looks me in the eyes and asks, "Are you satisfied we silly girls have proved the first law of thermodynamics, Mr. Jefferson?"
Figuring that a bit of groveling would be a good plan; I humbly reply "Very satisfied on both counts. You proved the first law and you proved you are not silly girls. Now let me up and I'll carry on the lesson." I make moves to escape from my Swedish prison.
The warden tightens her grip, "Now Mr. Jefferson, you know we've agreed I'm in charge for the duration of this class. Make yourself comfortable and tell us the second law of thermodynamics."
Comfortable? How the heck am I supposed to make myself comfortable? Twenty girls, staring as my red beach ball bum recoils high in the air, does not make me comfortable. I blandly answer her question.
The second law of thermodynamics states, "all systems have a tendency to equilibrium." Specifically, it is impossible to move heat by a cyclical process, from something at a lower temperature to something at a higher temperature unless work is added to the system.
That's got these stupid girls stumped I thought. No way will they be able to prove this. I really want these girls in detention.
Kim, the Chinese girl spoke up, "So we spank Mr. Jefferson, just as hard as before, but this time through crushed ice. The cold in the ice could not move heat to his bum according to the second law of thermodynamics. So the law is proved if after 200 spanks, his red light doesn't go on."
"That's it Kim, that would prove it", Olga said. "But our hands are so sore, I don't know if we can apply the same force again."
Let me take care of things Kim asserts. She gets a bucket, cuts the bottom off, and snuggly fits it to my abused bottom. Another girl gets five bags of crushed ice. Don't they every run out of ice? I thought. The dreaded Chinese girl takes two ping-pong paddles out of her bag.
"Well done Kim", Olga exalts. "Ok girls, let's do this two by two. The left line takes one cheek and the right the other." Eight girls hold my appendages anew. The beach ball rises.
Crushed ice is liberally added. Two paddles hurtle down. "Crunch, Crunch". The ice squashes into my bum. Nine more paddle duets of crunching action transpire. My behind loses its red color completely as the chastity belt starts to freeze. The second set of paddles descends. My behind starts takes on an icy sheen as my balls start to seriously contract. The third pair of paddles squeal with zeal. I can feel an icy sheen on my bum. More crushed ice is added. The fourth pair strikes their ten with ferocity. I feel half Eskimo.
"His behind looks all white now. There is clearly no heat exchanged in spite of all the energy we've provide. There is no way his bum will light red again." Kim observes.
"Yes," I cry, "Your point is proven. It's entropy in action. That's part of the second law. All systems tend towards increased entropy or disorder.
Olga feels my bottom and then comments icily, "What do you think, stupid girls? It does feel more disordered as we clearly haven't added any heat to this systems' state." Overruling the objections of the six pairs of girls who hadn't yet had a turn, Olga asks, "and what is the third law of thermodynamics Mr. Jefferson?"
With relief, I relay the required information.
As the temperature in a systems state approaches a lower limit, entropy approaches zero.
The girls were flummoxed. What could this mean? My hopes rose. Maybe they'll figure it out during detention.
That bloody French Canadian girl ventures, "That implies that if one lowers the temperature of a state of matter to its lowest possible point, then entropy goes to zero. So the state of matter should emit a frequency from the lowest band of the visible frequency."
The girls pondered what Francis said. Kim, maddingly, took it to the logical next step. "So if we take the temperature of Mr. Jefferson's bottom to its lowest point, it should turn blue." All the girls were relieved. They found an experiment that gave them a chance to avoid detention.
"Ok girls, this is the home stretch." Olga encourages. Turning to the remaining paddle line-up girls, she instructs, "It's all up to you girls. If you can remove all the heat from Mr. Jefferson's bottom, it will turn blue and we'll have proven the third law of thermodynamics. Kim make sure Mr. Jefferson's bottom stays steeped with crushed ice. We have a lot of heat to take out of this." Olga says giving my bottom a pat.
The proceeding begins anew. With vigor, the sixth pair of paddles drives sparkling cold into my behind. Frozen with pain, heaving huge gasps of air, I feel Olga checking the results of their paddle work. "Not bad girls, but we're a long way from blue. With only four paddle sets to go, I'm not sure we'll be able to do it."
"We need to use something with better leverage", Francis says and gets two long and very greasy lab spatulas. She hands them to the pair seven solemnly saying, "Good luck, you'll need all your strength to make this work." Each girl places a spatula on the closest cheek. Like synchronized swimmers, they mimed striking my bottom in slow motion. Satisfied, they correctly position themselves in all three dimensions. They smoothly raise their arms. Two accelerating greasy spatulas harshly compress wide areas of crushed ice deep into my bum. It feels like thousands of tiny icicles magically forming in my bum. Arms moving like pinwheels, they spatch in nine more groups of icicles.
The girls holding my now dangling arms and legs crowd around to view the result. "Look", one says pressing a finger on my lower right cheek, "It's light blue here." Hope soars as team eight steps up to the plate.
The suspense palatably thickens, as they make sure they have the maximum leverage position. The pinwheel spins. I feel my bum disconnecting from the rest of my body. I learn what blue balls really mean. Again they crowd around. "Light blue everywhere", Olga states. "We're getting there. Team nine, get that hiney."
Team nine comes out of the batter's box and after a couple of warm-up swings pound the greasy spatulas deep into the ice minefield. Each molecular icicle was driven in deeper while new icicles form for next greasy strike pounding.
Olga, brushing all the ice away, inspects the results closely. She concludes, "Girls, we have almost got all the parts of this state of matter its requisite color, but look here." Widening my ass cheeks (the chastity belt happily hiding my stretching bum hole) she points inside the crease. "It's only a very light blue here. His bum cheeks are not letting us drive in the ice in a uniform distribution pattern. Unless we resolve this, it will not be possible to get his bum into the lowest possible state of entropy."
The class hums, so close and yet so far. Francis pipes in "Rolling pins with enough leverage should be able to penetrate there."
Kim gets two rolling pins giving one to Olga and keeping the other for herself. Meet team ten I mentally groan. Pouring a whole bag of crushed ice on top of my bum, they prepare the field. "Help me keep him open." Olga orders. Four hands on each side pull my bum cheeks as hard as they can. Crushed ice fills the ravine. "Two girls per rolling pin. Use all your weight." Olga commands.
Two rolling pins and four girls weight later I feel the ice crystals super compact within my widely separated bum cheeks. Tinkerbell skating on this frozen canal wouldn't have found an imperfection anywhere. "OK, lots more ice now." Olga says looking at Kim. When my behind could no longer be seen, Olga picks up one rolling pin directing Kim to pick up the other.
Kim raises the heavy wooden rolling pin and lands a hard blow all along my bum crease. Tinkerbell dies and the canal moves closer to sea level. Olga's strong Swedish right arm drives the canal down another ten percent. Back and forth, Kim and Olga attack the frozen river. I'm barely conscious wondering how bums survive the winter. On the nineteenth stroke a blue light flickers through the ice.
Eyes glinting, knowing this was the last chance, Olga raises her rolling pin for the last authorized time. The girls and I all hold our breath. Hearing her warrior cry as the rolling pin whistled down scares me to death. The living daylights were knocked out of my bum.
A blue flicker, more flickers and then the ice shone a steady blue. Olga brushed all the ice away and the girls huddled their faces together around my bum. My bum glows and glows. "A blue moon" they whisper in awe. Then the cheers went up for Olga for the second time.
"Are you satisfied that we have proved the third law of thermodynamics Mr. Jefferson?" Olga inquires.
I contritely agree and beg her to unfreeze my bottom, worried about long-term damage. Olga thinks and slowly says, "If we do, will you apologize for calling us stupid girls?" Feeling very blue, I readily agree hoping they have some warm water. Olga looks at Frankie and says, "Grab his hair and make sure his eyes don't shift while he's apologing. Kim, give Mr. Jefferson's behind some heat."
Kneeling, Francis pulls up my hair until our eyes are level. "I'm sorry I called you stupid Francis," I wincingly say as Kim wallops my behind. Eighteen apologies later, my bottom is thoroughly warmed up. "That's enough girls", I'm fine now, "Thank you".
"Oh no," Olga corrects, "You still need to apologize to two more girls:
Kim takes my hair signaling a heavyset Ukrainian girl to commence. "I'm sorry I called you stupid Kim" feeling the brute force of a Ukrainian hand on my behind. "Hit him harder Elsa, his eyes are shifting." The whams increase in both strength and frequency.
I blubber, "I'm sorry Miss Kim, I'm really really sorry."
"Miss Kim," I like that. "The Chinese like respect. In future you will address all the girls in this class as Miss. Is that understood?"
"My shocking pink bottom prompts me urgently, "Yes Miss Kim."
Only Olga was left. "I'm sorry Miss Olga for calling you stupid."
The Swede, grinning from ear to ear, says, "I accept your apology and just to make sure you don't forget…" She raises that sturdy Scandinavian arm and begins to whack me off. After the first five, my bum went red. After nine it started to flicker. With that now familiar warrior cry the tenth whack speeds down. The light in my brain goes out as the light in my bums turns on. "Thank you Mr. Jefferson, that was a great class," she says as the bell rings.
Olga deposits my limp body, radiant bum in air, onto the floor, and exits with the other girls. Miss Pringle breezes in. Piggy eyes enamored by the red light, she manages to choke out "Sleeping on the job Mr. Jefferson? Let's take you to your room. Your next class isn't for an hour."
I creak to my feet wondering when this day would be over. I follow Miss Pringle through the crowded corridors to the ooos and ahhhs of girls admiring my well-lit bottom. I enter my only sanctuary in this hellhole of feminists. All the water activity has given me an urgent washroom chore. Miss Pringle unfastens the chastity belt and flops down into my chair staring at my pee proud tomato pokey. "Miss Pringle, I'm fine now" I say dismissively, "You may go."
Settling herself even more firmly into the chair she retorts, "Miss Kali has asked me to supervise you. She doesn't want you to play with yourself during school hours."
Fed up, I turn on her and shout "Listen you fat tub of female lard, I have to use the facilities. Understand? Get out now!"
Face flushing angrily, the mountain stands and comes to Mohammed. She grips my balls and starts to squeeze. "What did you call me?" she asks furious.
"Ah, I", she squeezes my balls harder, "I mean I need some lard to sooth my sore bum" I say desperately hoping she's as stupid as she looks. Somewhat mollified, she switches her grip to pokey, and with a brutal yank, hauls me to the toilet and points pokey at the middle of the bowl. "Go", she says squeezing him tightly.
"I can't" I moan, "You're holding him too tight". She slaps my bladder with her other hand. A hole in the dike opens and I painfully flood through the tightly gripped channel.
Miss Pringle has great fun varying the constriction to the tune of row, row, row your boat. It sure didn't go gently down the lane but she obviously thought life was but a game.
Shaking off the last drops of juice from my now deflated pokey she moves him to the sink and starts to hand wash my red tomato soup clothes away.
"Ouch, you're bathing him too hard" I protest. Ignoring me, she picks up the scrub brush and vigorously scrubs him horizontally, vertically, and diagonally. I thought there would be no skin left. She starts to scrub my pee hole. I grab her hand. She grabs my balls. I let go of her hand and the pee hole is excruciatingly cleaned.
"Hmmm" Miss Pringle notes, "not much color here." She smacks pokey until he turns red. "There you go Mr. Jefferson, spanking clean. Now let's see to your bum." Holding pokey securely, she sits down and tugs me across her lap. "Well I guess I'm the only lard around, so here goes," she says sardonically. Miss Pringle lifts up her shirt and bounces a one hundred and fifty pound fat belly on my bum for the next five minutes. Strangely enough, the blubbering lard did the trick. A warm soothing tingling suffused my bum.
Miss Kali comes into being. "Thank Miss Pringle for her help Mr. Jefferson. You need to get ready for your grade 12 class now" she comments, handing me a pair of trousers.
I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. With heartfelt gratitude, I gush, "Thank you Miss Pringle and thank you Miss Kali for letting me wear trousers. I'm surprised though. I thought that you were afraid of the girls seeing a stiff pokey."
"That restriction doesn't apply to the Grade 12 class. 18 year old girls need to be educated in such things if they are to face the world, in a confident manner, upon graduation" she replies somewhat mysteriously.
Going for a bit of insurance I casually mention "It might be useful, given these girls are at such a precocious age, if you tell them not to remove my trousers."
Miss Kali, surprised, says "I will tell everyone in the class the sort of control I expect". Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, I concur and follow Miss Kali to my next class, smirking at the disappointed looks the corridor girls threw when they saw no entertainment.
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