HELL WEEK

(From the Gynophagia Chronicles)

By Luis Cypher

Thursday, September 19, 2220

University of Nevada, Elko Champus

“I knew it!”

Pamela Danforth looked up, a bit annoyed, from her calculus homework to see the stunning blonde cheerleader sitting across from her in the cafeteria at the University of Nevada at Elko. It was cool inside and quite a relief from the late September heat in this northern Nevada town. It was, up till this point, quiet as well. The post-noon rush for lunch had diminished enough to allow Pamela to focus and get her math assignments due next week out of the way. Most students were now in their fourth period classes, which Pamela managed to engineer a break from all year long. Getting her math out of the way was a priority since she did not anticipate having any time tomorrow, as it was Student Body Feast Day, the grand kick-off event that signaled the beginning of the school’s favorite pastime. And, assuming she survived feast day, she would be working full time both Saturday and Sunday at one of the local Grocers. In less than an hour from now she’d be in Professor Renault’s Intro to Education, the foundation class for her chosen major. She had to repeat the class, which she thought was not that much of a problem, since transferring from NYU over the summer. The class there had been even worse than enduring Professor Renault’s boring lectures. By comparison, they were riveting.

In front of Pamela, across the long table, sat the blonde she was only just aquainted with. They had Psychology 201 together. She knew Miley Phillips to be far smarter than her bleach blonde head indicated. Like Pamela, Miley was a sophomore, just over seventeen. The blonde’s light olive skin and light brown eyebrows betrayed a Mediterranean heritage, Pamela guessed, having grown up around more than a few Greeks and Italians in her native Bridgeport, Connecticut. In front of her, Miley was gazing languidly through her dark eyes at the pages of Playpen Magazine ogling the statuesque brunette who wore only bare skin to complement impossibly green eyes and a face that was all peaches and cream.

“God she’s hot!” Miley cooed.

“Who’s hot?” Pamela asked as if she might barely be a little interested in anything for which Miley might interrupt Pamela’s calculus homework.

“Did you get it?” asked a tall, leggy and very athletic looking young black woman who strode up purposefully and plopped her very round booty in the seat next to Miley’s. The two pecked on the lips with a smooch and Miley pushed the magazine over.

“It’s Samantha Wells!” Miley said triumphantly.

“It is not!” protested the newcomer. She snatched the magazine up and flipped through the pages with a look of utter incredulity. While Miley propped up her chin with elbows on the table, looking at the tall woman and batting her long lashes, the newcomer laid the copy of Playpen on the table and began turning the pages slowly, drinking in what was on them. All of the pages she viewed sported images of that perfect creature with the glowing skin that was some perfect shade of flesh that Pamela could not decide if it was more yellow or pink… The girl was a Playpen Playmate. American Royalty. Almost every girl west of the Mississippi would admit to wanting to be one, and those east of it lied when they said they did not. Pamela was one of the latter, but she’d only admit that to herself.

“She looks a lot taller than five three,” said Miley’s friend.

“She does,” said Miley. “That’s what my Mom said last October.”

“Hi! By the way,” said the tall black girl, offering her hand to Pamela. “I’m Brandi Jefferson… since my little plaything here is too rude to introduce me.”

“Hey!”

“Pamela,” she said, taking the woman’s large hand across the table. “Pamela Danforth. And Miley doesn’t know me very well… I don’t even know if she knows my name… till now…”

“I do now!” said Miley grinned sheepishly.

“You’re the star WNBA hopeful, right?” Pamela asked.

“Hopeful is right,” said Brandi. “Anyway… honey, who got culled? Or dare I ask..?”

“I haven’t looked yet,” Miley admitted, further confusing Pamela, who had no idea what they were talking about. Suddenly interested, Pamela stood and leaned across the table to see as Miley flipped the pages to the last pictorial. It was a stage production with actors portraying African Cannibals of the age of invention, late nineteenth or early twentieth century. It was a popular theme in exploitation movies over the past couple of years. She also recognized the same beautiful creature Miley had been drooling over in before. Dark, almost tawny haired, impossible green eyes… that’s got to be airbrushed green! Nobody has that colour eyes, and that beautiful complexion. With her, however, was another girl, this one cherub faced with red hair and much paler skin, similar to Pamela’s own self, but instead of hair that tended toward burned auburn, like Pamela, the girl in the photographs had flaming red hair. The photography showed them both side by side impaled anally each on their own cannibal portraying actor both with looks somewhere between agony and ecstasy.

“It’s Katherine Osgood,” said Miley.

“Oh my GOD!” Brandi protested. “You cannot be serious!”

“What happened?” Pamela asked.

“The redhead is Katherine Osgood,” said Miley, pointing to her. “She got culled at this little event. They don’t show it, but she did. Samantha got Playmate of the Year… they orchestrated it so they appeared together…”

“Bet!” said Brandi, snorting. “I can’t believe this.”

“So, what happened?” Pamela asked. “They had a competition or something and the redhead lost?”

“No,” Miley said. “They always cull the third runner up. The top four vote getters, the top gets Playmate of the Year and the fourth gets culled…”

“That doesn’t seem fair!” said Pamela. “What about the bottom eight?”

“They have specific reasons why they do that,” said Miley. “My mom tried to explain them to me once, but I really didn’t pay attention. It’s fair. You owe me big, honey!”

“Sheeit!” Brandi snorted again.

“You guys make a bet?” Pamela asked.

“Brandi bet Samantha Wells would get fourth and Kate Osgood would get top honors.”

“Exactly the opposite of what happened,” Brandi harrumphed.

“Who’d you bet on?” Pamela asked Miley.

“How could you NOT vote for that!” Miley pushed the PMOY foldout in front of Pamela.

“Five foot three?” Pamela looked agape at the image. “She’s shorter than me! There’s no way, she looks like she’s five nine at least!”

“Nope, saw her in person! I went to an event in Carson City last year, and it’s like she’s been miniaturized. Anyway. I really didn’t pick her to be PMOY, my mom did… she got roasted the same month Samantha Wells was a playmate.”

“When was that?”

“Last October,” Miley said.

Pamela, still leaning over the table, flipped to the current playmate and opened the centerfold.

“Oh My God! Abby!”

Brandi pulled the magazine over, and read “Abigail Zell Gold, you know her?”

“We were at NYU together! I can’t believe it!”

“Why’d you leave NYU?” Brandi asked. “I thought it was a great school.”

“If you can survive it!” Pamela said. “More coeds get culled by percentage than at any other school in the country!”

“Really?” Miley asked.

“It’s one big party! Girls roast daily,” Pamela said. “Damn. I knew Abby went to the casting call last spring… I had no idea she got a call back! Bitch didn’t even tell me!”

“What do you think, honey?” Brandi asked Miley.

“Hmmm… I still have to say Miss January. Bailey Stamp.”

“They have Student Body Feast Days at NYU?” Brandi asked.

“Thank God, no!” Pamela said. “That seems to be a west coast thing, I think. I guess they have to make up for all the girls that don’t get tag...”

“Pam! Look out!” Miley screatched.

Confused, Pamela turned too late. From under the ridiculously short mini skirt the Velcro sides of her panties were ripped apart and came away. By the time Pamela understood what happened, a handsome young man held the gold tag in his hand from which hung her regulation university panties.

“Oh-My-God!” Pamela declared in protest. “Adam!” She screeched at the junior engineering student who was one of some twenty five 4.0 students who qualified as taggers.

Adam MacAlbert’s handsome young face was split with a triumphant, toothy grin. In his left hand he held a very fancy smart phone, in his left, he held the credit card sized gold tag that had hung just below the hem of Pamela’s too short mini skirt till he seized it.

Pamela tugged down the hem of her skirt, cheeks burning top and bottom, in a pathetically futile attempt at hiding her nethers.

“You asshole!”

“That’s what you get for displaying that fabulous rear end of yours so prominently!” Adam grinned, eyes smiling under a shock of blonde hair.

“That’s the third time in as many weeks!” Pamela protested. “What is with you? Am I being targeted?”

“Same deal, Pam,” Adam said. “Go out with me… how about all day tomorrow, feast day, then a movie later, and I give you your panties back!”

“It was cute the first time, Adam!” Pamela snorted. “Now it’s old!”

“Last chance!”

“I’ll take my chances,” Pamela said defiantly.

“Okay,” Adam said as he began punching numbers on his phone, his personal code and the one on Pamela’s tag.

Pamela began to shake with both fear and hatred. Could this be it? She looked to Miley who was biting her lip. Pamela had no real friends here yet, only acquaintances and a roommate who was constantly in heat with her Battery Operated Boyfriend most of the time, with little left over for conversation, idle or otherwise. She was pulling her skirt down so hard her blouse had come untucked.

“I can’t believe this!” Pamela lamented.

“You did sign a contract,” Brandi said matter of factly.

“Easy for you to say,” Pamela said. “You’re exempt.”

“Only during Basketball season,” Brandi said. “I’m just as eligible now as you are.”

Adam’s phone beeped. “Shit!” he said.

“I’m okay,” Pamela breathed.

“No,” Adam said. “I punched in the code wrong.” He started over as Pamela hissed at him. Ignoring her, Adam took the seat she’d vacated.

“Ooo, Nice!” he said, glancing at the open magazine. “I heard Samantha Wells got the crown. Love to get her on the new spit we built!”

“Sammie got it?” called a newcomer. Pamela did recognize the boy, but only as the brother of Lucy, her co-worker at Valencha’s Grocers. Lucy followed closely behind him, her fair skin, blue eyes and freckled face equally as pretty as her brother’s. They both stood the same height as Pamela, at 5’4” and if they were not male and female, they could have been identical twins.

“Hiya, Sean, Hey Lucy,” Miley said.

“Hi guys!” Sean said.

“You working tonight, Pam?” Lucy asked.

“I’m closing.”

“Good. We’re closing together then… At least I won’t have to call Sean to walk me home again. So what’s this about Sammie?”

“Who got tagged?” Sean asked Adam..

“I did!” Pamela said, annoyed.

“Not yet, actually,” Adam said, concentrating. “Still finding out.”

“Pam, is it? You’ll look great on a spit, girl!” Sean said.

“Thanks a lot!”

“Good luck, Girl!” Lucy said. “Can I see that?” She took the magazine from Brandi. “Never was ever a doubt! We’ll have to call her, Sean!”

“You know Samantha Wells?” asked Miley hopefully.

“She’s our cousin,” Sean said. She grew up just over the hill from our house.”

“Where was that?” Miley asked.

“We’re from San Leandro, near San Francisco. She was from San Ramon. It’s about… oh… seventeen miles or so, as the crow flies… longer on the freeway… about maybe half an hour on BART.”

“What’s BART?”

“Local rail transit for the Bay Area,” Brandi said.

“You from the Bay Area?” Sean asked of Brandi.

“Sacramento,” Brandi said.

“So what’s she like?” Miley intejected pointing at the Playmate of the Year pictures.

“Sam?” Lucy asked. “Sweet. Driven, but sweet.”

“You don’t get to be a crackerjack reporter unless you’re driven,” Sean added.

“She’s a Journalist!” Miley said. “That’s right!”

“She’s a reporter,” Sean corrected. “Don’t call her a journalist to her face! She hates that!”

“What’s the difference?”

“Reporters report facts. Journalists add opinion.”

“Even so,” Miley said. “She looks yummy!”

“That’s what everyone said last month when they filmed her rape,” Lucy said.

“You were there?” Pamela asked.

“The whole family was,” Sean said. “It was at this place called Tropicana Blue… Kate Osgood was there with her family… they really frightened both of them but good…”

“Roasted Kate Osgood…” Brandi Lamented.

“They show that?”

“No, they just have some photos of the rape,” Brandi said.

“It was about as horrific and sexy as it sounds, though,” said Lucy. “Then they gutted poor Kate right on stage with a huge cock up her ass…”

“Wow!” Brandi said. “Her whole family watched that?”

“Then they had to sign a non-disclosure agreement after. We all did,” Lucy said.

“We all knew something was up,” Sean said. “But it was pretty amazing. All the girls there cried and touched themselves. I think Lucy came in her panties at least twice.”

“I did not!” Lucy protested. “I only came once…”

“Was Samantha’s father there too?” Miley asked. “She talks about him a lot in the original Playmate Profile…” she said when Brandi gave her a look.

“Uncle Matt carried Sammie out after it was done,” Sean said. “I think the hardest part for Sammie was that she and Kate were getting so close. They were inseparable for months.”

“You never mentioned any of this last year!” Miley protested. “How do we know you’re not pulling our legs?”

The four, Miley, Brandi, Sean and Lucy started arguing increasing Pamela’s frustration until finally Adam’s phone beeped.

“Oh, wow!” Adam said, causing Pamela’s heart to leap into her throat and hammer in her ears. “Guess the third time isn’t the charm,” he said, looking at Pamela. “Missed you by one day! Damn! You got lucky, girl!”

Pamela collapsed into the nearest chair, unconcerned that her crotch was fully exposed and put her face in her arms and just breathed.

“Better luck next time, Adam!” Sean said with a grin Pamela could hear even though she couldn’t see it.

“You too!” Adam said. “Sure you won’t go out with me, Pam?”

Pamela looked up, and at Adam. “Get lost!”

Adam smirked at trotted off.

“ ‘Good luck to you too’?” Miley faced Sean. “You’re not a tagger now, are you?”

“As of last week!” Sean said proudly. “Perfect grades!”

“Oh, God,” Brandi complained. “Not another one!”

“Don’t worry, Brandi,” said Lucy. “I think I’m Sean’s target more than anyone.”

“But you’re his sister!”

“So?” Sean said. “She’d look great on a spit! And I’d get to cook her! But seriously, I only joke about it, Luce. We only get to pull two tags a week each, and one cull a day total. I have my sights on girls that are a little more challenging… And so far, we’re oh for a thousand in three weeks… pretty pathetic record, if you ask me.”

“I’m just glad I get to wear a red tag the rest of the week,” Pamela said. “Thank God he missed my day!”

“I distinctly remember,” Brandi said. “Seeing two girls culled in one day at least twice last year.”

“Special circumstances,” Sean said. “If a girl is tagged on a demerit, that doesn’t count against our total culls.”

“Well,” Pamela said. “This is all very interesting, but I have to get to class. Buy guys. It was nice meeting you Brandi. You too, Sean.”

“Now she could be in Playpen,” Sean watched Pamela leave. “I can see why Adam’s so taken with her.”

“Think so?” Lucy asked. “You in love, now?”

“Well, she is hot!”

“Yummy, too!” Brandi said.

“Hey! Eyes front!” Miley protested. “I’m right here!”

“Can’t I at least look?” Protested Brandi.

“Look! No touch! You’re mine!” Miley said as she grabbed a hand full of Brandi’s ample rear end and squeezed. Brandi jumped and squealed with mock outrage. Miley giggled at her lover, then turned to Sean. “So, how well do you know Adam, anyway?”

“Well enough to know he’ll get Pam eventually. Either in bed, or on the spit or both.”

“Doesn’t he have a history of that?” Brandi asked.

“He tagged some girl he was dating named Hanna last March. But what pissed me off was when he got Naomi Cokely. That frosted me! She was the sweetest thing! Fucking Adam!”

“Like I said to Pam, she did sign a contract,” Brandi reminded.

“But Naomi went out the day before both our mothers got spitroasted! It was stupid and cruel! She was on the phone with her Mom when he tagged her saying goodbye!”

“Wait! Was that the girl that had phone sex with her mother when we gutted her?” Lucy asked.

“Last October,” said Miley.

“I’ll never forget that as long as I live!” said Lucy. “My God that was hot! I gutted her, Sean manned the spit… she was gushing the whole time doing a play by play as if she was calling a sporting event!”

“Keeping everything family oriented,” Miley observed.

“Wow!” Brandi said. “I’m sorry I missed that!”

“You would have liked her. She was Linda’s sister.”

“Oh, yeah! I liked Linda. She got tagged just after her sister got married, right?”

“That’s right. Did you ever meet Mary?”

“No.”

“I did,” Sean said. “We had Sociology together. She’s the one who’s little sisters married each other, right?”

“What?” Brandi asked. “In what state is that legal?”

“It’s a Christian Nudist thing,” said Miley. “Very convoluted. They mount women on totems and stuff… you know…”

“Oh! Yeah, mountings!”

“You know about the Christian Nudists?” asked Sean.

“Yes I do!” Brandi snorted. “Those holier than though holy rollers with their made up phony African ritual that came out of some honky’s sick fantasy mounting girls in some God awful ceremony designed by the white man to keep the bruthas and sistas down! That Christian Nudist thang? You bet I know about it!”

“My aunt Jessica was mounted,” Sean said.

“Sengan Communion, they called it,” Lucy said.

“Sengan, my ass!” said Brandi. “It was those pasty faced English ass wipes came up with it so they can keep their factory ships movin’ from the Congo to South Hampton fast as they go, ten thousands girls in, five hundred thousand pounds of meat out! That’s all we good for! Meat!”

“Sorry, Guys!” Miley apologized. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. She gets like this…”

“Damn whitey think we don’t know what’s goin’ on! You bet we know…”

Lucy and Sean could only watch them go with their jaws slack.

Pamela Danforth’s bare bottom stuck, as it always did class after her panties had been confiscated, to the wooden seat in the auditorium. She sat in the front row with the other “High Achievers” just below the stage where Professor Renault was droning on about class discipline. She squirmed at the annoying reminder that tomorrow was Student Body Feast Day, which was the quarter’s big event, since there was little to no sports scheduled till December.

Professor Renault’s lecture on class discipline was falling on deaf ears today. In spite of her self-absorbed squirming, Pamela had noticed hers was not the only antsy rump in the room.

“Are you getting targeted too?” whispered Farrah Madrid as she leaned over to Pamela. She was a freshman, as this class was mostly comprised. The few sophomores, like Pamela who were present were, like her, mostly transfer students and a few who had registered too late to get a slot in the mandatory class for a degree in education.

“…most of the time,” the 38ish woman at the podium was droning. She was dressed very professionally in a gray pants suit, orange blouse and with a red scarf. The colors varied, with Professor Renault, but the style did not, at least not much. She’d vary between a knee length skirt and slacks over her fleshy hips. Pamela had noticed the woman had very fleshy hips and that her bottom jiggled when she walked, though she was not, apparently over weight. “You can maintain discipline simply by separating the disruptors…”

“Yeah,” Pamela whispered back, trying to concentrate on the lecture..

“Gawd, I can’t imagine,” replied Farrah. “But it’s not your day, right?”

“No,” replied Pamela in her horse whisper, getting annoyed. “Fortunately.”

“Mine, neither… My brother’s a tagger, but that isn’t helping me any… I’m so scared about tomorrow and how I might be… you know…”

“…sometimes the problem can escalate. The threat of humiliation is a well known to be effective as the threat of corporeal punishment both on Girls and Boys…”

“Me too,” said Pamela, said curtly.

“…in fact, humiliation and corporal punishment often go hand in hand…”

“It’s my first time,” said Farrah. “I can’t believe I have to go naked!”

“All freshmen girls do,” said Pamela said, remembering thankful they did not have feast days at NYU. Please let me listen, she thought… you’re distracting me.

“… there are, of course exceptions to these rules. Can anyone think of one that might be?”

“The anticipation is killing me…”

“Farrah Madrid. How about you?” asked Professor Renault.

“Huh?” Farrah’s eyes were wide.

“Or, Pamela Danforth; any thoughts?”

“I’m sorry, Professor. What was the question?”

Professor Renault sighed. “So here, ladies, we have a teachable moment. This whole class is distracted, making learning impossible. Miss Madrid and Miss Danforth, will both of you step up, please?” Her hand indicated the space on stage next to the podium.

Pamela reluctantly stood and moved up, with Farrah following her up and flanking her once they stood next to the podium. Professor Stella Renault moved to the side of the podium and leaned on it, shaking her short haired head and clucking her tongue.

“So, let me guess,” said the professor. “The topic is… uh, Student Body Feast Day?” She looked the two over. “Is that right, Farrah?”

Farrah nodded nervously. Farrah had a right to be nervous. Disrupting a lecture earned demerits, and demerits put one on extra days of vulnerability to the taggers. Pamela looked out over the two hundred odd students in the lecture hall. No boys, thank god, only girls. All wanted to get their education degree which would allow them to get a teaching job. Pamela could not see one face that was not worried and frozen in silence.

“This always happens, mind you,” said the professor. “Add to that,” she reached down with her pointer and lifted the hem of Pamela’s skirt, lifting it exposing the fuzzy dark red hair between Pamela’s legs. “It looks like poor Pamela got tagged today. I guess we know she’s a natural redhead…” There was nervous laughter. “East Coast Girl, huh? So am I. Waxing is more hygienic, I’ll have you know.”

Pamela wanted to cry. She wanted to run.

“How many of you have fantasies about being spitroasted? Show of hands,” She raised her own. About a quarter of the room did. Neither Pamela, nor Farrah did.

“Interesting. Statistics show that it is the most common fantasy women enjoy, and from a very young age. So I can only assume that most of you aren’t admitting the truth.” She nodded toward Pamela and Farrah. “First year Farrah and second year Pamela are two of the top students in this class, amazingly enough. They both consistently scored in the top ten over the past two weeks, and I had very high hopes that they were going to be good examples to the rest of you. Yet here they are, ignoring an important lecture and disrupting the class. Now, for those of you who have been paying attention, you’ll know that no matter the student, good or bad, you have to be judicious when it comes to maintaining class discipline. So let’s have some suggestions… uhm… What do you prescribe, Melanie?” She looked around the room. “Sorry, Melanie Davis.”

“Uhm,” replied Melanie Davis. “A demerit?”

“Okay. That would mean next week we might see one or both on a stick. Rebecca Boaz?”

“Ma’am,” said the Miss Boaz. “If that’s true, the whole class should get demerits. We’re all guilty.”

Pamela did not know the girl two rows back with the pink eyelids and dull brown hair, but she suddenly liked her.

“This is true, and I can do that if I must. But a lot of you would get tagged next week, so it’s not a good idea…. Remember, these are my top students! Yes, the whole class is guilty. But notice I now have your attention.” She looked around the room. Sandra Kincaid,” she referred to the pretty bleach blonde next to the black Melanie Davis. “How about you? What would you do here?”

“Uh… I think… maybe a spanking? I mean an example has to be set, right?” Sandra Kincaid looked to Pamela like some holier than though surfer girl. Sandy, everyone called her. Pamela found herself hating that one.

“Corporeal Punishment for College Students! That’s a great idea, Miss Kincaid. Maybe you were, in fact, paying attention. Good possibility, that. Toni Smith? What about you?”

“Well,” Toni said. “The faculty meeting is in a week from Saturday. Have them appear there.”

“A one in ten chance! Good idea… hmmm… let’s see…” the professor looked around the auditorium. “Priscilla Lecler; thoughts?”

“Well…” the voluptuous blonde was thoughtful. “I heard that once a girl was punished by going a week in nothing but her underwear….” Pries sat next to Rebecca Boaz.

Pamela gulped. This was not a list of suggestions! This was a list of cumulative punishments she and Farrah would face! Next to her, Farrah was tearing up… she’d also figured it out.

“I had forgotten about that!” said the professor. “I like that. Tania Crumb, what say you?”

“Disrupting class is a big deal, ma’am. But… I don’t know,” said the girl, who sat next to Toni Smith.

“Petra Balashova, any thoughts?”

The lithe Russian shrugged. “I hope…. I think demerit?”

“Bailey Lambert?”

Bailey was Pamela’s roommate, a sophomore like herself who Pamela could barely imagine had any serious thoughts of being a teacher. She had black, black hair and Eurasian features with lightly freckles and blue eyes. The very exotic looking Petra looked almost mundane next to Bailey.

“I’m not adverse to nudity, ma’am,” said Bailey. “So I don’t think of it as much of a punishment. Demerit, I think. As Tania said…. It’s a serious offense, but then, we’re all guilty.”

“Petra,” said the professor. “Do you agree?” Petra nodded… the professor polled the girls she’d spoken with, they all tended to agree.

“Very well, the facts are these: we’re all meat! Even me! If I screw up badly enough, I lose my tenure on a spit. None of us will avoi8d it. Feast day is one of the ways you barter for this education. Twenty years ago I went through it on this very campus. That was back in the day when taggers were out of control hooligans! But I survived and now here I am after fifteen years as a high school teacher, I’m helping shape the next generation of teachers, something I hope to do for at least another seven years. The point is this: Student Body Feast Day is a fact of life! Deal with it! If’ you’re not here to learn, don’t bother coming, and above all, do not disrupt my class!”

Farrah was weeping now…

“Melanie Davis, Sandy Kincaid, Priscilla Lecler, Rebecca Boaz, Toni Smith, Tania Crumb, Petra Balashova, Bailey Lambert, Pamela Danforth and Farrah Madrid. All of you will be at the faculty meeting a week from tomorrow where one of you will be dinner, those of you that are still with us, that is. All of you will show up wearing only your , panties and tags for one week. All of you get a demerit to be cashed between next Monday and Friday. And, we might even find time to give each of you a spanking. Think on this before you disrupt my class again! Dismissed!”