The nurse's office at Eagle Lake School was much like nurse's offices at all schools: antiseptic, official-looking, with a few soft chairs and toys scattered around, posters with safety slogans and campaigns on the wall, and an antiseptic smell. Mrs. Howell was as one might expect: a motherly woman in her forties, with a no-nonsense air, though one could see that she would be excellent with the kids.

I was there to interview her for a local newspaper. After we were introduced, she showed me around the office. There was not much to see: cabinets with medical supplies, bottles and syringes and pills for emergencies, bandages. There was only one client: a little girl of about nine who had scraped her knee on the playground equipment, and who soon disappeared, scampering back down the hall to her class after getting a band-aid put on.

Mrs. Howell talked to me about her work, dealing with sniffles, flu, the standard epidemics of lice and chicken pox, scrapes such as we had just seen, allergies. She also explained that because of the setting, there was much that needed to be done that would not be required in other settings. First off, the children were of course all very active sexually, with each other and with adults, and they needed to be examined regularly for that reason. Secondly, the school maintained quite strict discipline, and there were a variety of punishments, frequently administered, for various infractions, most of them involving insufficient promptness in carrying out instructions and a perceived absence of sufficient respect toward staff, supervisors, and other grownups with whom the children came in contact.

There was hardly a day, she told me, without a spanking or a whipping, and the nurse needed to be around throughout the process: in advance, to be sure the children were sufficiently healthy to be fits subjects for punishment; during the process to hold hands and calm fears, especially for those not very much acquainted so far with the implements of discipline; and afterward, of course, to treat any wounds and ouchies. Her role often involved comforting, wiping away tears, and smearing soothing cream onto sore bottoms.

"One of the students is coming by in a few minutes, just before noon. Let's see…" She pulled out a file card. "I thought you might like to be around while I take a look at him. His name is Spencer. He's a third-grader."

"Oh, of course, I would like to, if you don't mind."

"Just an inspection, in this case. You can arrange to attend one of the actual spankings later on, if you would like. Spencer is getting punished for being a little too fresh-mouthed; it's been going on for a little while and we decided it was time to send him a message. You may find it of interest to sit in because the variety of discipline may not be one you would be accustomed to find in other types of school environment. Let's just say it's humiliating for the child, as it's intended to be."

The office door opened and a little boy of about eight stepped in, looking from one of us to the other. We were both seated, the nurse at her desk and myself in a chair next to it. Obviously, the boy knew Mrs. Howell, but he didn't know me.

"Miss Thompson said I need to go and see you, so you can check me."

"Absolutely I will do that, sweetie."

He bit his lips nervously. He was very cute, with long blond bangs. The child was wide-eyed and seemed to be on the verge of tears. Like all the boys, he wore the standard school uniform at Eagle Lake: white t-shirt, blue cotton shorts (the girls wore pink), white runners, and white ankle socks. Like all of the kids, he also wore a collar and matching anklet; these, as I soon found out, are different and unique for each of the children, bought for them by loving parents and owners, and sometimes they are quite stylish. They all come in three parts, the collar and anklet, and along with them a corresponding color-coordinated genital restraint, which of course was not normally visible. In Spencer's case, the theme, as displayed on collar and anklet, was tiger stripes.

Mrs. Howell turned to me. "Spencer, this is Jeremy."

"Sir," the boy murmured shyly.

She smiled at him, "Spencer, you don't look very tigerish today, I must say."

"Pardon, miss?"

"Never mind. What else do you say to Jeremy here?" the nurse prompted him.

"Happy that you could visit today, sir."

"Good job," she complimented him. "Now have a seat."

The boy sat down gingerly in the chair facing the desk. He held onto the arms of the chair and lowered himself slowly.

"Now, I understand that you've gotten yourself into a bit of trouble, young man. What is it about?"

"Ummm. I guess I was disrespectful to a supervisor."

"You guess?"

"I was."

"And you are getting disciplined for it. Do you want to tell Jeremy what your punishment is?

Spencer looked down at the floor, very reluctant to speak. He shifted back and forth from one foot to the other awkwardly.

"Well? Don't keep us waiting. Or should I tell him?"

"Umm… I have a plug."

"Sir."

"Yes, a plug. Sir."

"A plug where?" she pursued.

"Umm… inside me."

"Where inside you? In your ear, your nose?"

His face turned red.

"No, ma'am."

"Please tell Jeremy where, then."

"It's inside my bottom, sir."

"Thank you for explaining that, Spencer. Now, when someone has a plug, we do inspections of them pretty regularly, just to make sure that there are no issues. We want to make sure it's safe. But most importantly, I have a question for you."

"What?"

"Do you think you're going to learn a lesson from this?

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're going to be better behaved from now on?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now. Who put your plug in?"

He answered in a soft voice. "Mr. Campbell. In his office."

"When did you get it?"

"First thing this morning."

She turned to me. "Mr. Campbell is very experienced. I don't expect there will be any problem." Then, to the boy:

"Miss Thompson let you sit on a cushion this morning?"

"She asked if I wanted to."

"Did you?"

"Yes. She gave me one. She also said I could go on my knees on my chair if I needed to."

"Did you do that?"

"No. I didn't have to."

"So. No problems sitting down?"

He just shrugged.

"No, miss"

Then she added, half to him and half to me: "Well, I would guess that either Mr. Campbell used a fairly small one, or else it's into you nice and deep. Or maybe both."

Then, she continued, briskly: "Now, young man. I'm sure everything is fine. But let's have a look. Go down to your underpants. You can leave the rest of your clothes in one of the cubbies here. She pointed over to the wall. Then go into that room, the one that says Examinations 3. I'll meet you there in a couple of minutes."

She stood up and I followed, going back to the private area of the office. She glanced at the boy as she left, speaking firmly and assuredly: "And don't dawdle."

We went into her office while we waited for the boy. She showed me files and photos and specification sheets from the manufacturers, explaining everything I might need to know about plugs, rings and stickys.

"The boys have all had rings since they are very little, for the most part. They are quite used to them. The plug is different. It does hurt, even when it's properly in place. We don't use it that much. But it does them good sometimes."

"It didn't seem to be really bothering him."

"Well, if it's the first time, and it is for him, we try to make it fairly easy on the child. Though it also has to be severe enough that they will remember it. I think partly he wants to show us he's brave. And in class, well, in front of the other children, he would also want to show that it doesn't bother him so much. He wouldn't want to attract more attention from them than he absolutely has to. They all know that he's getting a punishment, of course, and they all know what it is. Generally, they won't make it difficult for him. They're all friendly. And they all know that another day it could just as easily be them. But they are children; they will tease sometimes."

We went back to Examinations 3. Inside was Spencer, sitting on a wooden chair and squirming a little. He was wearing nothing but a small pair of white underpants. There was very little in the room other than the chair, an examining table, a desk, a low cupboard, and a clothes rack.

"Stand up, sweetie."

He did as he was told.

"Come stand over here."

He shivered a little

"Is it cold in here? My goodness, I'll turn the heat up a bit."

She went to the thermostat on the wall, made an adjustment, then sat back down in front of the boy. She tapped her knee. "A little bit closer. I don't bite"

I noticed, now that we could look at the child more closely, that there was a leather strap around his waist, just visible over the top of the underpants

"You've never had a plug before."

"No, ma'am."

"Hopefully you won't get one again. Does it hurt?

He wriggled a bit as he stood there. "Kind of."

"It's supposed to hurt a bit, you understand that? It's supposed to remind you to be better."

"I know. I will."

"Good. I don't like to see you here like this. I know it's not fun. I believe that up to now you have been a very good and obedient student. You promise then that there will be no more of this insolence from you?

"I promise."

"How long did Mr. Campbell say you needed it for?"

"He said to come back at the end of the day after class."

"Well that's not too bad. We're already halfway through. But you understand that if it happens again you might need it overnight? Or even for a few days in a row?"

"I know," he said sadly.

"I don't think your mom and dad would like to see you come home like that. Would you like to have to explain it to them?"

The child shook his head.

Abruptly, Mrs. Howell changed tack. "You don't need to make poo, do you, sweetie?"

"No, ma'am."

"If you need to before the end of the day, you will have to come back and see me. Understand?"

He nodded.

"We give them a liquid diet for a couple of days before they're due to get a plug, so as to avoid any problems with bowel movements."

"So the parents would need to know about it then?"

"We just send a medical letter home indicating that this is a medical recommendation. We don't go into specifics as to why. We don't necessarily want to involve the parents for every infraction. Only if it becomes severe and persistent, and the child is intractable.

With one motion, Mrs. Howell reached out and pulled down the child's underpants. letting them fall around his ankles. There was a small gasp of surprise, because there had been no warning or preparation. For a moment, his little hands moved instinctively to cover himself.

"No shyness, now", she advised the child. Reluctantly he took his hands away.

Everything was now showing. Of course, the boy was completely prepubescent, his testicles undescended. In front there was a small circular sticky, made of vinyl or plastic and fastened around the inner thighs, where the scrotum would be when he was older. It was bright and colorful, tiger-striped to match the anklet and collar. Attached to the top of the sticky was the metal ring that encircled the child's boyishness. The small penis pointed straight out at us, insolently.

I was interested in seeing the arrangement that was used to keep the plug in place. We now had a full view of the leather strap that the child had around his waist. Attached to it in the front were two further straps, a few inches either side of the bellybutton. These were fastened with buckles that could be tightened. The straps ran downward and passed under the tops of each leg, in the crease of the inner thighs. I assumed that they met behind, but he hadn't turned around for us yet.

Mrs. Howell took a white plastic sheet from the cupboard, unfolded it, and spread it open on the examination table.

"Hop up for us, young man, and let's see how things look."

Spencer, first standing on the chair, climbed onto the examination table, and sat there on his knees for a moment.

"Lie down on your tummy." He obeyed. The little pink bottom was curved and adorable. I couldn't help noticing a couple of convulsive little wriggles of the muscles around his inner thighs as he got into place.

At first glance, there was not much evidence of the punishment he was being subjected to. But looking more closely at the strap around the child's waist, I could see another strap, fastened to it at the center, just below the small of the back. This strap ran down into the child's bottom crevice and disappeared in between the cheeks.

"Up on your knees, sweetie. Legs apart, wide as you can."

The boy obeyed immediately, resting on his arms as he shifted his position. This improved the view considerably. As expected, we could see the three straps, the two running from the waist strap in front and down through the crevices at the tops of his legs, and the third one attached at the back and running directly into his bottom crease. They converged at the crucial point, right at his bottom opening, which was the center of the child's pain and shame.

The strap that ran down through the little bottom, was fastened directly to the plug, apparently with stiff wire. The other two straps, I could see, were attached to a small metal hook that seemed to be appended to the end of this first strap. All the straps were tight. Of the plug itself, all that was visible was a circle of thick black plastic that protruded from the boy's delicate, tender opening; everything else must have been inside him.

Quickly the nurse took out her mobile device and snapped a photo. For her files, she told me, as a record. Then she used a scanner function on the device and aimed it at the black circle. I realized that there was a small bar code at the center of it. I looked surprised.

"Oh, they're all coded by the manufacturer, yes."

She showed me the photo, briefly: the small anonymous little bottom with its straps and fasteners and the black circle at the middle. Then she brought up an image of the plug that had been used and showed it to me as well: a small length of firm curved black plastic. The small photo showed an emblem on the side. Swordfish Systems, specializing in instructional and disciplinary products. They were the makers.

Mrs. Howell considered the image. "It is one of the smaller ones, as I thought. But it is also in there pretty firmly. As I said, Mr. Campbell does a good job. If they are well fitted, it does make it easier on the child for the most part. In terms of sitting and walking and so on."

As she spoke, she rested one hand lightly, in a proprietary way, on the curve of the little bottom. She did not touch the straps or fasteners or the plug itself. Altogether, the examination did not take very long.

"You're fine, young man. You'll do fine. Hop down now, get your undies on, and go along back to class."

For a moment, confused, the child's eyes widened, having interpreted her too literally. "The rest of your clothes are out in the cubby. You do remember that, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

He slipped off the table and stood in front of us, still naked, and still with his penis pointing straight out.

Mrs. Howell, seeing where I was looking, looked indulgent but a little bit disapproving. "That does happen with some of them. It turns out to be very stimulating, in some ways."

She changed the subject: "Did Mr. Campbell show it to you before he put it in?"

"No, ma'am."

She held the phone up to him and showed him the image of the plug. He examined it with interest.

"That's the one that's in you. Next time it will be a bigger one and it will hurt more. You understand?"

He nodded.

"Has your peepee been hard like that all day?"

Spencer looked down at himself, suddenly very embarrassed. His face turned a deep red.

"Mmmm… I guess so."

Her voice was gentle. "I can understand why. The feelings are pretty distracting aren't they? I would bet you aren't paying much attention to Miss Thompson today."

He shrugged, and gave us a bit of a smile, for the first time

"What class did you have just now? Or do you even remember?"

"Math."

"Did you get all your examples done?"

"No, ma'am. There were some I had no time for."

"Were the ones you did all correct?"

"No." He shook his head regretfully. "There were some mistakes."

"Tell you what, sweetie. I can let you stay here on your own for a little bit and play, if you like. Would you like to do that?"

He looked down at his insistent little sex. Obviously, he knew what she meant.

He shrugged. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

She took the plastic sheet off the examining table, folded it up, and put it back in the cupboard. To replace it, she took out a soft furry piece of white shag cloth. She spread it on the table. She went into the next room and came back, to my surprise, with a large brown teddy bear. It had black button eyes and a big red bow around its neck. She handed it to Spencer: "Here's a little friend you can cuddle with for a while."

He took it immediately, lay down on the little white rug, and hugged the teddy close to him, around his neck. As we watched, he turned over and tucked the teddy under him, lying on top of it with his thighs opened and his knees bent. Mrs. Howell stood by the table briefly, then patted the soft little behind tenderly and rubbed there once or twice in a gentle circular motion, presumably to make sure that the child got the point.

"All right. We'll go out and close the door. No one will come in. But don't you touch any of your straps, if you know what's good for you. And don't be too long. You can just ring this bell when you're done and we'll come back and get you."

We moved back into the larger area of the office.

"Is that something you ordinarily arrange for the children?"

"Oh no, it is a fairly rare privilege. I do keep some of the teddys for the children. We can wash and reuse them later. Of course the children when they are in a very excited state may find it enjoyable to spend some time with them. It gives them something to cuddle and rub while they deal with their feelings. But it is only by way of exception. If they knew that it was something they could be granted regularly, we would probably get some of them starting to misbehave just so they could get the private time. With Spencer, it's only because it's his first time, and because it is easy to see that it is driving him to distraction. There is no possibility that he would be able to focus in class unless he is allowed to do something about his emotions."

"I thought I saw some wriggling just when he lay down for the examination."

"Oh yes, of course, I noticed that too. He was struggling. You could tell that he wasn't even aware of it. They won't usually embarrass themselves like that in front of me, if they can help it."

"Just out of curiosity: would he have done it if you stayed in the room with him?"

"Oh, I'm sure he would have. At his age, they're not very shy. And especially not when they're in a state like that. To tell you the truth, he is very sweet, and I wouldn't have minded watching. But really, I get to see enough of their little bottoms. I'm also a nurse for the children's dance club, and I'm down there once a week or so. Have you been there yet?"

"Where they have the child strippers? Not yet."

"Oh, you should go by there, of course. Maybe your paper would be interested in a story. You can't really understand the children's lives without seeing what they do in the evenings. Of course, everything happens on stage. You should go; you'll see how the children enjoy it. I'm sure they would allow you to speak to a few of them."

"Has Spencer done any performing there?"

"I haven't seen him. But I'm sure he has. They all do; it's a requirement. But I think he's still fairly new here. They start them off slowly."

Five or ten minutes later, the bell on the desk rang and the light for room 3 flashed. We went back in. The boy, sheepish and a little bit shamefaced, sat on the wooden chair, in his underpants. The shag rug, a little rumpled, was still in place, and so was the teddy bear, none the worse for wear, apart from what appeared to be a few wet spots on his tummy.

"Feeling a bit better now?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now Spencer, I don't remember telling you that you should put your underpants back on, did I?"

"Ummmm. No, but I just thought…"

"When it comes to clothing, you don't make your own choices like that. You should know that by now. You didn't arrive here yesterday."

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

Contrite, he stood up, slipped the undies down and let them fall around his ankles again. His penis stood up, as energetic as ever, bouncing slightly and pointing straight at us.

He looked down at himself, his face full of shame, and then up at the nurse.

"Ma'am, but it's still like that. I tried my best. Even with teddy, but it didn't help much. I'm sorry."

"Well, then, there's nothing more to be done about it. You will just have to go around stiff like that. You can't stay here and play all day. You need to get back to Miss Thompson's class."

He nodded in agreement.

"Now pull your undies back up. Go out to the waiting room and get the rest of your clothes back on, and then scoot back there. I don't want to see you here again today."

"Yes, ma'am, thank you."

He turned and started down the hall to the waiting room, moving slowly and a little bit carefully. The little boy hadn't got the undies back on yet. His cute bottom wiggled a little as he walked, and, as he did, you could just barely see the round black circle of the plug where it protruded from him.

Mrs. Howell smiled at me and shook her head. "Well," she pointed out, "I hope Miss Thompson has the good sense to exempt him from gym class for today."

I nodded in agreement. "I hope so. I'm sure it isn't easy to run like that."

To Be Continued