The Orphanage Boys Chapter 2
by Chadlad

copyright 2008 by Chadlad, all rights reserved
chadlad3@yahoo.com

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Chapter 2: The Second floor—Boy's Accessories

"An escalator," Sister Mary Catherine said when the Mother Superior had delivered them to the glass room the next day, "is a series of punishments of escalating nature administered over a 7 day period in order to deal with the most grievous of sinful behavior, chiefly repeated sloth, chronic theft, incessant fighting, or, in you boys' cases, unforgivable shows of lust. Of these, lust is the most grievous in the eyes of the savior and Mother Superior, and is punished most strongly. Given the wanton behaviors of you boys' parents, I suppose you come by it naturally, but we will cure you of it in short order, with each day's punishment being more severe than the previous day's. Now, you were paddled on the seat of your underpants yesterday, 100 strokes each. So today we'll have to top that. Now let's get started. You first, boy. Over the desk. Pants down." She pointed at Sam this time. Sam rose from the bench by the door, while Jake remained seated, wishing he was first so he could get it over with. Jake had wondered, yesterday, how it had been for Sam, watching him get paddled and knowing that his paddling would be next. Now he knew - it was agony having to be second. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, his still sore butt throbbed with his heartbeat, and his legs felt weak, making him wonder how Sam was able to walk so steadily around the desk to take his position on the far side.

The curtains were wide open on all four sides of the glass room today, and more girls were near the glass today, and more boys gathered closer along the walls as well. They hadn't been open when he and Sam had entered, ushered in by Sister Delores directly from their classroom at the end of the school day after another day of staying in for recess and lunch, writing Bible verses while the rest of the children played outside. Jake had been pondering something all day, something he'd noticed for the first time that morning. He and Sam showered in the center of the shower space using one of the center shower heads along with two boys from the younger dorm, right at the divide between the two groups. They'd both been careful not to look directly at any of the boys when they were all naked - they already knew that boys who looked at such things were mercilessly teased, or beaten up. And the boys they shared the shower with, whose genitals they couldn't help seeing because they were right there every time you looked down, were prepubertal and so just as hairless and small-dicked as the two of them. And the boys around their bunks, which were in the low prestige part of the room were also sexually immature, so Jake hadn't been surprised by their lack of body hair, either. But that morning, as he and Sam had waited their turns for towels (Low prestige boys went last just before the boys from the other dorm, shivering in line as they waited for the bigger boys to get their towels first), it had suddenly dawned on Jake that some of the boys had penises and scrotums twice or three times as big as his, some with pendulous, dangling balls that swayed as they walked. Some of these also had pubic hair, some impressive bushes of it, some just a thin nest, a few just a few wisps of hair like himself. But two or three boys with quite impressive equipment were as bald as him and Jake. He'd have liked to ask Jake's opinion of this, but they hadn't been alone together all day—three had been a nun within hearing distance the entire time. They'd even been taken to the bathroom separately, so they couldn't talk even then. Trips to the bathroom weren't even private - apparently their misbehavior meant that they couldn't leave the classroom without being accompanied by a room monitor, one of the older boys who hung around Flip. Those boys had taken each of them to the bathroom, and stood with crossed arms watching them while they stood at the urinal, making it hard for their sphincters to relax. Later when they compared notes, they'd discover that although they'd had two different monitors, both boys had told them the same thing when they were done "If you shake your dick more than three times you go on report." Jake had been so startled by that he hadn't shaken properly at all, and had ended up with an uncomfortable wet spot in his underpants that soaked through his trousers, too. But the issue of the big boys with big dicks who were as bald and smooth as little boys down there still nagged at him.

He'd also been troubled by the appearance of the genitals of two of the smaller boys from the other room. Like most of the other boys, and unlike him and Sam, the most disturbing of these boys had a dick that was mushroom shaped at the tip and not covered with a foreskin. But about half an inch below the bulging head of his little mushroom, the skin of this boy's penis was raised, irritated, and sore-looking, as well as being red in color. The head of his penis looked reddened and sore as well. In fact, it looked like the little boy had a red ring circling his penis just behind the head, and he appeared to be quite sensitive down there, drying his crotch very, very carefully and wincing as he did. Jake was dying to know what that was about, but there was no one to share his questions with but Sister Delores, and he certainly wasn't asking her!

The other boy whose appearance disturbed Jake was one of the smaller guys from the other room. He showered some distance away that morning, so Jake hadn't seen that clearly, but it looked like he had some sort of curved cover stuck to his crotch, so that his genitals weren't visible at all. Before showering, the boy had walked up to the urinal and peed, but from what Jake could see his penis didn't come out - instead pee had dribbled out the bottom of the box. The boy had, in fact, been forced to thrust his crotch forward unnaturally so that the box hung over the urinal, and the boy had not touched himself but had bucked his hips two or three times to shake the drops off the bottom before heading to the shower. After showering, the boy had dried himself and around the box but not touched it and had left immediately, so Jake hadn't seen if he still kept the box on when he dressed, or how it made his pants look if he did.

His mind was still swirling with questions about this place the two of them had landed, but the main one right now was what was going to happen to them today. Sister Mary Catherine had said, "pants down," so they were probably going to be paddled again. But she'd also said that the punishments would be worse each day. How could she possibly make the paddling he and Sam had gotten yesterday worse? Well, a thousand ways, unfortunately. His heart thudded in his chest as he realized how many bad possibilities there were.

Sam tried to show nonchalance as he walked to the end of the desk, but his nervousness showed as he fumbled with pants buttons and struggled to lower his loosened. His butt was still so sore from yesterday, and he was going to be paddled on it again today? He bent forward, and Jake expected Sister Mary Catherine to immediately take up the paddle beside Sam on the desk. Jake himself shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair by the door - his butt still ached from yesterday's spanking, and apparently they were about to get another dose. But the sister didn't pick up the paddle, instead, she walked around behind Sam, leaving it on the desk. "Hold firmly to the edge, boy," she ordered. Standing directly behind Sam, she leaned up and flipped his shirt tail up, exposing half his back and his worn underpants as well, just like yesterday. But her hands then moved down the sides of his back, caressing his bare skin, and stopped just above his waistband. Digging her index fingers into it, she began pulling down Sam's underpants. "Lift slightly, boy," she ordered. "So that I can clear the decks completely."

Sam looked up at Jake, and Jake could see the dismay in his face. They were going to be spanked bare today! And the windows were full of girls, especially the one directly behind Sam, the one that would be looking at his bare butt full on. How much would they see?

"Lift up, boy!" Mary Catherine said more sharply. "Or I'll have to increase the number. And I've got the paddle right here if your obstinacy demands it." Sam lifted his hips, and felt his underpants being pulled down, over his still sore butt, down, down until they were bunched up at his ankles. He was naked below the waist, with girls and boys looking at his bare butt. He pressed his thighs together, hoping that his genitals didn't show from behind, and pushed his groin against the desk so they wouldn't show from the side. He wondered if his butt was spread enough that his butt hole showed. He hoped not. That would be so humiliating, even more humiliating than girls seeing your butt. Maybe even worse than girls seeing your dick. Then he wondered if his underpants had any embarrassing skid marks. But he'd put them on clean, today, and he hadn't gone poo, (Like Jake, he'd waited until night before going to reduce the risk of other boys seeing him in that embarrassing position). The air in the room felt unnatural on his bare butt skin, cool and unfamiliar. Funny, it didn't feel that way when he was walking around naked to and from the shower in the dorm. But then he was with other boys who were just as naked and vulnerable, not in a room where he was the only person who was bared that way. And this time he was being bared, he wasn't doing it himself, and what he was being bared for was punishment. Sister Mary Catherine gently ran a hand over each of his butt cheeks, one at a time, making Sam shiver. "Still a bit sore, I see," she said. "But no broken skin, and no excessive bruising. There's a job well done! Now let's see about making you a lot more sore!"

And she had. She'd immediately pressed a hand into the small of Sam's back, like before. Leaving the paddle on the desk, she began hand spanking the boy, cupping her hand slightly and giving him sharp slaps on his tender, bare skin just as rapidly as she'd paddled him on his underpants yesterday.

Sister Mary Catherine called this rapid spanking and paddling technique, covering the child's entire bottom thoroughly, a "Good bollocks thrashing." Sister Theresa, who was in charge of discipline of the little boys and girls, had raised exception to that terminology several times, each time pointing out that the term "bollocks" was applied to a boy's naughty bits - specifically the twin orbs that were found the little sacks under their spigots. But Sister Mary Catherine always dismissed this objection, first because she argued that the "bollocks" in the wrinkled sacks of most of her boys were too small to be given notice and she, as a pious person, did not allow herself to notice those of the bigger boys, and second, because "bollocks" meant, literally, "balls," and the nicely rounded posteriors of most of the boys and girls were like two smooth, rounded balls, and even bounced nicely under both hand and paddle.

Sister Mary Catherine allowed herself to examine the rounded posterior of this boy she was currently spanking while she efficiently went about her work, accompanied by the satisfying bare skin smacking sound her hand made on the boy and the startled, distressed little "uh" sounds he made each time one of her slaps landed. It was so different spanking the boys compared to spanking the girls, and so different spanking them bare rather than over the usual underpants or panties. Boys' underpants and girls' panties made the bollocks a single smooth, white mound, hiding the divide between them neatly with stretched cloth. But pull those panties or underpants down, and you had a very different looking target - two targets, actually, with a deep cleft between them. Panties and underpants felt cool under your hand, but bare skin immediately became flushed and hot. The hand on the panties or underpants made a somewhat muffled, dull thud, but the hand on bare skin made a sharper "crack" sound that was much more satisfying. And spanking the children bare had another advantage - you could see just how red and sore a boy's or girl's bollocks were becoming when you spanked on the bare, rather than having to guess as you did when they were covered.

And spanking the boys was quite different than spanking the girls, even though the bollocks looked very much the same, at least in the younger children. The older girls were more rounded, though, with an extra layer of fat under the skin, making their bottoms softer and more able to absorb her blows rather than reflect them, and the older boys were more muscular, their bollocks possessing more bounce and tone. The biggest difference wasn't in the bollocks, though, but in the children's deportment. The girls generally surrendered to their spankings, crying immediately and piteously with big, wet, salty tears, burying their faces in their hands as their bottoms absorbed her blows, meekly accepting their fates. The boys fought. Not physically, of course - that would have merited even more serious punishment, and they knew it. But they fought giving in to her discipline. They clenched their bollocks, they tensed their legs, they gripped the edge of the desk or scrabbled at it with their hands as the blows landed, they rocked back and forth, and, in greatest contrast with the girls, they tried to tough it out and resisted calling out and crying, trying to look manly in front of their peers. Most couldn't be totally silent, of course. Almost all released little grunts as each of her blow landed, and many, including this one and his partner in crime, gave out embarrassing little involuntary yelps with each blow, yelps you could see shamed them to the core. The girls took deep, sobbing breaths as they were spanked, but the boys panted, breathing in rhythm with her rapid blows, and thus almost hyperventilating. They splayed and curled their fingers, bucked their manly little butts, and generally resisted her to the end. They had fire, these boys, she had to grant them that. And if her attentions to their backsides made them stronger, more pious, good Catholic men, that was all she could ask for.

She had watched and assisted Sister Theresa at work herself, just as Theresa sometimes came to watch and assist her. Sometimes there were many butts to spank, such as the time of the great food fight a couple of years ago, when both dorms of Theresa's boys had needed their little butts reddened in just one afternoon. Theresa's domain was the dorm across the way, containing boys and girls aged 5 to 6 and 7 to 8. There was no glass room in that dorm - boys were spanked in the boys' sleeping room, and girls were spanked in their own quarters. Spankings were shorter for the little ones, of course, the paddle was almost never used, and there was no formal desk - Theresa simply sat on the miscreant's cot and took him or her over her lap right in the midst of the other children of that dorm. And the younger boys' reactions were very different at that age from those of her own boys. They cried freely, and they wiggled and kicked, and would have tried to cover their bottoms if a person didn't hold both their hands. And although, like the older children, they feared bare bottomed spankings more than underpants spankings, it wasn't because of modesty like it was with the older children. Indeed, when Theresa finished a pants-down spanking, the miscreant would often stand, bouncing, right in the open, rubbing his or her sore bottom without any attempt to cover the genitals. Mary Catherine found that charming, believing firmly that children were as God made them and thus things of beauty.

Here she and the Mother Superior differed in their views. The Mother made no bones about the fact that she found all male genitals disgusting and female genitals distasteful. She never accompanied the nuns when the children were taken weekly to the "Y" for swimming - the children owned no swimming suits and swam nude, and the Mother Superior didn't want to see even a hint of bare skin from the neck to just above the knees. She also seldom entered the dorms, lest she see any naked children, or, worse yet, see a child sitting on the toilet. But Sister Mary Catherine was different. She didn't mind seeing children using the toilets - elimination of wastes was a natural function, part of God's plan. In fact, the little boys looked particularly charming peeing, so sweet and innocent and so happy to be unleashing their burdens. And she didn't mind the immature genitals of the girls or the boys at all. The girls, after all, showed little in front, only a demure little division between their legs, low and unobtrusive, tight and virginal. And the boys had innocent little spigots for making water down there, partially hiding a tight little bulge like a drawstring purse underneath, a clean little package that she found in no way objectionable. Most of her boys were circumcised and thus their spigots were small and inoffensive, and the ones who weren't looked more comical than anything else, their spigots looking more like a flap of loose skin than something dangerous and offensive. From the rear, being spanked bare, even the big boys were actually more inoffensive than the girls, because their bigger drawstring purses were generally barely visible, and between their legs was neatly sutured, smooth skin.

Of course, with the boys are girls bent properly to smooth the bollocks out for a spanking, the anus was often partly or fully visible, especially on the thin children, and that did, sometimes, bother Mary Catherine. But only if that wrinkled, oval,tightly pursed muscle was discolored or, worse, had some of the children's own dirt on it. That, she wouldn't tolerate - a boy or girl who was dirty back there when bared completely for punishment would have his or her pants pulled back up and be sent to the showers, ordered to come back clean or risk far worse punishment. This was more common with the boys than the girls - she would swear some of those boys never bothered with toilet paper at all! Still, she'd sometimes watched from the bathroom doorway with a grim expression as a sturdy 12-year-old worked frantically under the shower head, soaping and rinsing his bottom repeatedly, bending and spreading his butt cheeks while the other boys watched his comical efforts to avoid a more serious spanking from various places near the shower room door, or took very look trips to the urinals for a better vantage point.

Spotlessly clean, though, the way it should be, the anus was just another part of the body to Mary Catherine. Sometimes it was a useful indicator, as many of the boys and girls would tighten that orifice when a particularly effective blow hit, and the winking of that central eye was thus the sign of a job well done.

Only one boy had ever dirtied himself during discipline, although several younger ones had peed in fright just beforehand, and all of them had been in underpants, which had absorbed most of the liquid, their socks absorbing the rest. Those she hadn't stopped for, simply warming their backsides while they lay in their wet embarrassment, then announcing to the already tearful child that they would receive an "after spanking" immediately following their original punishment for losing control. The boy who'd dirtied himself did it before even lowering his pants, apparently out of fright for the large paddle she'd been picking up, getting ready to use on him. Him, of course, she had to send back to the dorm in shame, instructing him to wash not only himself but to stand under the shower and wash "all of his dirt out of his clothing." And of course the other boys saw, and mocked, as the little guy scrubbed at his underpants, using his bare hands for lack of anything else. He skin was pruny all over before he'd finished, and the spanking she'd given him on the bare immediately afterward had been especially painful because his skin was so soft and tender from the water. Still, even he had been spanked with only the boys' curtains open. She hadn't opened the curtains of the opposite sex of the child being spanked for at least two years. Like the other nuns, she didn't think having the girls see the boys' naked bodies was a bad thing - in her opinions little boys were entirely too modest, and allowing them to keep their genitals hidden gave them the impression that those insignificant little fingers of flesh were entirely too important. But girls sometimes became fixated on those aforementioned little fingers, and she didn't think that was healthy at all.

And, of course, given boys' constant sinful natures, boys seeing girls bare would be out of the question in almost all circumstances. They had enough problems with chronic masturbators already, boys who spilled their seed wantonly despite the admonitions of the Bible, and even little boys who could not yet spill seed, but who were already addicted to that nasty habit.

She concentrated on her current job. She'd have to watch these two for signs of masturbation. She hadn't seen either one with his hands in his pants yet, but they were the type, of that she was sure. And it was such a pity, because they were fine looking, handsome lads to have come from the loins of such wanton women. They had appealing faces and nice bodily proportions, especially where she was currently focused. Indeed, this one had quite the nice, firm set of bollocks, and she let herself lay into him with all her strength. Sam didn't cry out at first. His face tensed and he bit his lip, and his eyes blinked with each spank, but he merely rocked with each blow for some time as the sister methodically spread spanks around his bare, exposed butt. But it hurt - the pain wasn't explosions this time, like before - it was a slow build as the skin become more irritated and tender, until Sam was grunting with each blow and his eyes were moist.

Sister Mary Catherine felt herself settling into a comfortable rhythm. She liked giving the boys and girls bare hand, bare butt spankings, even though underpants paddlings were more commly given. For one thing, with the bare hand you could make spankings last much longer, thus giving the young miscreants more time to ponder the error of their ways. Second, bare hand contact was more intimate, and more shaming, especially for the boys. It was one thing to have a woman hit your bottom with a paddle or a switch, quite another for her to apply her bare hand there, actually touching and feeling your private areas. She loved the gradual build up bare butt hand spanking had - the sting built slowly, so they kids, especially the boys, could, for awhile, convince themselves that it wasn't going to be so bad, and that they'd get through it with a minimal loss of dignity in front of their fellow students. But the burn would grow, and grow and grow and grow, until their tender little butts were on fire, a fire blazing just as painfully as any paddling could produce. Boys' tough little butts could take a lot of hand spanking, prolonging the learning experience as well as her own satisfaction.

She also liked the hand spankings on the bare because she could spend an extended amount of time looking right at a child's butt, and she found that experience quite stimulating. She liked children's butts. They were soft and smooth and free of that unsightly hair that had so turned her off to adolescent and adult males and had been one of the things that had driven her to the convent to start with. When her own boys began to show signs of that that unsightly hair, she would sometimes order them shaved if they were scheduled to receive bare-bottomed punishment. (She referred the shaving of the boys to Sister Pious, the orphanage nurse, considering it a hygiene and health issue). And when they got to the age where all of them were getting that hair, it was time to pass them on to the teen dorms, where Sister Chastity reigned supreme -- Sister Chastity and her assortment of straps and belts and long-handled paddles for awakening even the most mature adolescent bottom. Let Sister Chastity deal with the hairy ones with their pendulous genitals - she, Mary Catherine, would stick with these smooth, hairless boys with their compact, non-offensive little stalks and tight little coin purses

She looked down at the bottom of the boy she was currently giving her attentions. A nice firm set of bollocks on this boy - on both boys, in fact. A bottom made for holy chastisement, a gift from heaven to these boys to set them on the proper path. These two boys had tough skin and firm flesh - they'd taken yesterday's underpants paddling well, with no breaks in the skin or undue bruising, judging by this one, at least, and they'd be able to stand a very, very long spanking today without permanent damage. The boy's legs were twitching now—he was beginning to feel the building burn. His cheeks were full enough they bounced nicely with each spank, full enough that the boy's anus could only be seen in glimpses as her spanks briefly depressed alternate cheeks. Unlike sister Chastity, who had made well-known her distaste for anuses and usually paddled or strapped her big boys on underpants, or whipped or birched them standing to the side so she wouldn't see the offending orifice, Sister Mary Catherine just considered the necessary orifice just part of the overall package - neither marring the appearance of the bottom nor enhancing it. She had tried in vain to explain to Sister Chastity that a child's anus was just as much a gift from God, just as elegantly designed by him for its purpose, as was a nose or an eye, or this fine bottom she was currently spanking.

And most of the kids were surprising clean back there, despite their seeming worries about it. Even the boys generally showed up appearing spotless, the tight asterisks of their rectal muscles unbesmirched and innocent appearing. Sister Mary Catherine sometimes considered a boy's anus as a sort of a bull's eye - an anchor point she could use to center her spanking around. The sit spots, after all, were just about an inch or two above and just across from the anus, so she could make sure the most sting was settled in the most effective spot to remind the child of his errors every time he sat for the next several days.

Jake, watched Sam with growing dread as his little pants became audible grunts, then little yelps. Sam was tough - could take a punch right in the balls and just double over without a whimper (Jake had seen him do just that when a bully tormented them at school a year ago). The fact he was now yelping with each spank meant his butt was in serious pain, yet the sister spanking him showed no signs of stopping. Sam blinked with many of the spanks, and his hands gripped the edge of the desk more tightly. He finally let go with one hand, instead using it to claw and push at the top of the desk as Sister Mary Catherine kept laying into his butt with sharp, loud sounds of bare hand on bare, hot boy flesh. That free hand pawed at the desk, the fingers curling like Sam was trying to dig down through it. The girls behind Sam on the other side of the class were whispering behind their hands and pointing, commenting on the state of his buttocks or his movements, or possibly just on the shocking bareness of Sam's rear anatomy. Jake hoped Sam wouldn't try to reach back and protect himself. Sister Mary Catherine had warned on greeting them in the glass room just a few minutes before that she expected her boys to show discipline, and that meant controlling themselves during "a well-deserved bollocks toasting." She'd gone on to explain that she never tied a boy's hands while spanking him, and that she firmly expected him to restrain his movements on his own, "no matter how much it hurts." She'd also hinted, darkly, of means of restraining boys that didn't involve tying the hands, but Jake hadn't wanted to think about that, and didn't want to now, either.

Sam's yelps were getting higher and more insistent, now, and Sister Mary Catherine began slowing her pace to make the blows harder,. Sam's legs began moving more in reaction, actually separating for a moment at one point. But a faint cry of, "look, you can see his thing!" apparently registered with Sam through his haze of pain, because he clamped his legs together tightly again, and made an effort to control his movements. Jake wondered which of Sam's "things" the girls were giggling about. Surely not his little penis, which had to be too short to be seen from behind, especially shriveled in pain and fright. Although the skin of the tip might hang down that far. Or were they talking about his butt hole? Or his balls? Jake gulped over the lump in his throat, the fear rising to a crescendo in him as he realized that he would be next over the desk, with his assets in risk of exposure as well.

Sister Mary Catherine delivered two stunning blows that drove Sam's crotch into the desk and made him cry out loudly, then stopped, stepping back. Sam lay over the desk for a moment, quivering, then slowly straightened up, keeping his crotch tight to the desk as he did to prevent the girls from the side from seeing his genitals. He heaved an enormous sigh as he did, the sound of a boy who has just survived a terrible ordeal. His lower lip was quivering uncertainly and his eyes were heavy and full of hurt, staring at Jake intensely as if to say, please, please take the sting away! Leaning to one side awkwardly, he managed to snag his underwear and pull them up firmly in front, then he could reach back and ease them over his almost purple butt, now covered with welts and blisters from the prolonged spanking. Now he didn't have to stay so close to the desk and could move more freely with his genitals covered. He slowly raised his pants, grimacing as he eased them over his buttocks, then zipped up and snapped the snap on the front. He pulled his shirt into place and moved slowly away, towards the chair by the door where Jake sat. His hands hovered near his bottom but he remembered Sister Grace's admonition not to rub and kept his hands away. Sister Mary Catherine looked at Jake. "Your turn, boy," she said. "Over here. Pants down." Jake looked at Sam pleadingly. He didn't want Sam to abandon him - he wanted Sam to stay, and share his pain. And Sam seemed to understand, because he stopped by the door, turned around, and stood there with his hands hovering near his aching butt, waiting for Jake to get his spanking.

It was different doing it yourself than watching it happen to your best friend. Jake walked like a boy asleep, trudging to position, putting one foot in front of the other. Odd things caught his notice - a hole just wearing through his worn shoes by the ball of his foot, the smirk on Flip's face as he watched from the back of the crowd on their dorm side with his arms crossed in front of him, a tall, thin girl on the end with a blond pony tail, staring at his face as if trying to feel his emotions through it, mouthing something at him that might have been, "be brave" or might have been something else. He turned his back to them, looking straight ahead at Sam for moral strength. His hands fumbled at his pants button, tugging at a resistant zipper. Cool air on his bare legs as he slid his pants down, pushing at them with both hands, bending a little to get them to his ankles. The top of the desk splotched with moisture, where Sam had dripped tears or drool during his long ordeal. His own tears and drool would probably soon mingle with his friend's. The smooth feeling of the cold, varnished wood against his palms as he gripped the edge as instructed. Bony, large, but feminine pulling at his waistband from both sides as a voice from heaven commanded him to lift, and, like a zombie, he lifted, pushing up on his toes as his underpants whisked down silently, hearing distant giggles behind him as his butt was bared, and even some gasps as the girls saw the extent of the damage from yesterday's paddling. Hearing giggling to the side he glanced toward the other girls' dorm, realized a girl was pointing down at the edge of his desk toward his crotch, and belatedly pressed his bare groin against it, the tip of his penis and his tight little balls reacting to the cold front of the desk. He realized, as if watching himself from a distance, that he'd been half hard when his underpants had come down, and he wondered if his dick had been sticking out where the girls could have gotten a glimpse of it. His dick often stood straight out, with the foreskin drooping off the end like a comma off the end of a sentence. Now, more than ever, he wished his would hang down like Sam's usually did. He squeezed his bare thighs together, hoping he was blocking the view of his boy parts from the back. His butt itched here and there - it had been itching and burning alternately since his paddling yesterday, and showed no signs of letting up. What was taking so long? It seemed like he'd been lying there, on display, forever. He stared at the desk top. When Sister Mary Catherine spoke, he was actually startled, his body jerking slightly, his buttocks clenching.

"Sit down, young man," she snapped at Sam. "If you're staying, you must be seated. All children sent to this room for punishment must be either seated or bent over during their visit here."

"Please, ma'am," Sam whined, his voice abnormally high and slightly hoarse. "It hurts so bad. I don't think I could stand it to sit just yet."

"You are making your young friend wait for his punishment! Now be seated, unless you'd like to take his place," Sister Mary Catherine snapped.

"Please?" Sam said softly. Jake looked up at him from where he was bent over the desk. Sam wouldn't do that for him, would he? Take Jake's place. Hope rose in him, followed by guilt for wanting his friend to take a double dose of what he'd just gotten. But Sam had already surrendered. Defeat on his face, he slowly, gingerly, eased downward, his face contorted as he stretched what must have been an incredibly sore butt. That'll be me in a few minutes, Jake thought to himself. My butt will be sore like that. Somehow he couldn't convince himself that this was real. Sam hovered over the chair.

"All the way down," Sister Mary Catherine said. Sam, groaning loudly, let his weight settle on his butt, crying out as his sore flanks took up his weight. For a moment his eyes welled, but he wiped them with a swift hand and got control of himself. Jake wondered if he had that much control in him. Sister Mary Catherine pushed Jake's shirt up higher, so half his back was exposed, and placed her left hand on the small of his back, a warm spot against cool skin. "Another job well done," she commented, surveying his bare buttocks, covered evenly with small blisters and blotches of pink and red just as Sam's had been. "No broken skin, no serious bruises. You'll be able to stand a long session today. I assume you're still quite sore?"

Jake didn't realize she was talking to him. Her hand suddenly left the small of his back and threaded into his short hair, jerking his head back painfully so he was staring above Sam's still pain contorted face. "Owww!" he complained.

"I asked you if your bollocks were still quite sore," Sister Mary Catherine said firmly. She shook his head with her question to emphasize it, pulling his hair painfully.

"Owww! Yes ma'am!" Jake squealed.

"Good," Mary Catherine said. "You'll be much more sore in a moment." She placed her hand firmly on the small of Jake's back again and raised her other hand, shaking back the sleeve of her habit as she did to keep it out of the way of her swing. Here it comes, Jake told himself, trying to steel himself for the first blow, his buttocks tensing slightly.

But he wasn't ready for it, even though he'd seen what had happened to Sam, and even though he had plenty of warning. The first smack didn't have the hurt in it the paddle had yesterday, but Jake hadn't realized how much more it would sting - the bare skin was much more vulnerable than it had been encased in the previous day. Despite his determination to "be brave," he let out a startled yelp that sounded a bit like "Oh!" And the next spank struck before he'd fully absorbed the first, and then the next and the next. He couldn't compose himself, couldn't stop calling out, keeping up a steady, "OH! OW! UH! OW! OH!" in rhythm with the loud cracks of her hand.

Heat and pain built quickly in his butt, radiating everywhere. The spanks came too fast, and they were too hard, and he couldn't seem to catch his breath. He was aware of his penis and balls, pressed against the cold side of the desk, flattening as each blow to his posterior drove his genitals into the unyielding surface, stimulating his penis tip while his butt roared at him in pain. His yelps went up in pitch, some of them becoming little squeaks. Like Sam, he let go of the desk with his right hand, almost reaching back to protect his bare flanks before he caught himself and began pawing at the desk instead. His legs were twitching, wanting to bend and kick and do anything they could to just get away from the fiery glow that enveloped his young, lean butt. The sister was slowing down now, making her spanks harder and driving his genitals more firmly into the side of the desk. Dimly, through the haze of pain, he was aware that his penis had become a hard lump against the desk, not the soft, squishy appendage he usually sported, but he wasn't worried about that now. His butt had become unbelievable sensitive, and every smack was an agony that made him yelp out loud. "OWW! UH! OWW! OH! UH!"

And then, when all he could feel was fire consuming his hindquarters, she stopped. He panted for a few moments, the fingers on his left hand gripping the desk for dear life, the fingers on the right splayed in reaction to the pain, only now ebbing down to an unbearable throb rather than a white-hot explosion. His butt was a mass of fire, but he was done. He continued panting on his stomach, trying to gulp down the desire to cry. He couldn't cry, not now that it was over!

"That's it, boys," Sister Mary Catherine said. "Get up, young man, and rearrange your clothing. I'll be seeing the two of you here again tomorrow. Try to stay out of trouble until then."

Tomorrow? Jake thought dimly. We have to do this tomorrow? He looked through blinked back tears at Sam, who was looking suitably horrified himself as he rose slowly from the chair. Sister Mary Catherine was standing with crossed arms, tapping her fingers on her sleeve impatiently.

"Come on, Jake," Sam said, his voice still hoarse. "Pull your pants up. We have to go."

Pull your pants up? Oh, yeah. His pants were still down. It was hard to think with your butt pulsing pain at you with each heartbeat. He was still bent over the desk with his naked butt on display. He straightened up mechanically, his butt telegraphing intense pain as he moved. He gasped and moved more slowly, reaching down for his underpants, clear at his ankles. Only as he was pulling them up did he realize that he'd stepped away from the desk, and that the girls on the right were suddenly pointing and giggling behind their hands as they stared at his suddenly revealed genitals. His butt shrieking in pain, he yanked his underpants up and reached for his pants and dragged them over his sore bottom as quickly as he could. Only then, when he reached for his zipper, did he see the tent in his underpants, and realize that he had a hard on.

He had a hard on! His dick was sticking straight out! Had the girls seen? How could they not have! He hastily pulled his zipper, almost catching his underwear and the tip of his foreskin as he did, and with fumbling, numb fingers snapped his button. His butt was still shrieking in agony where he'd been so vigorously spanked. The girls had seen his hard on, he was sure of it! Mechanically, he shuffled toward the door, just wanting to get out of there, and Sam, also shuffling slowly, opened it.

But there was no escape, of course. They had to go outside and then into their own dorm and face the boys who'd just watched their shameful, bare butt punishment and listened to their unrestrained yelping as they got it.

After a painful, slow walk out the corridor and around the building, Sam and Jake were outside their dorm door. Sister Mary Catherine had left them as they went out of the corridor, heading off toward the office like a locomotive gathering steam. Sam looked at Jake, looked around, saw no one was on their side of the dorm to see them, then gingerly touched his clothed butt with both hands. Jake, after a moment, did the same. His butt protested immediately, unbelievably sensitive. His underpants hurt, his pants hurt, everything hurt. He wished he could climb into his and Sam's old bed, and lie side by side on their stomachs, and comfort each other with soft words and little hugs as they did when they were little boys and one or both of them got spanked. But their home and their bed was gone, ended the day the policemen came to their school and told them their mothers had been arrested for proselytizing, or Presbyterianism, or some such thing. The police woman who'd brought them to the orphanage had said it meant entertaining men for money, but Jake couldn't see what was so bad about that. Yes, men often came by the apartment in the evenings, and even in the afternoon on Saturdays, and his and Sam's mother took them into the bedrooms, but the men appeared happy often laughing and joking, and what was the harm in making people happy? He and Sam were banished to their bedroom off the kitchen or outside to play during those times, so they never saw the men unless they spied through a door crack, but he hadn't thought anything of it, and had figured they were doing the boring things that adults called entertainment, like listening to opera on the radio or something.

"Ya ready?" Sam asked Jake. Jake nodded and let go of his butt again. Sam struggled with the heavy door, opening it, and the two hobbled into the dark interior of their dorm.

A clot of boys was waiting immediately inside the door, and as soon as they entered, the chant began. "OWEEE! OWEEE! OW! OWEEE! MOMMY! MOMMY! OWEEE!" the group of boys called in high pitched voices, in imitation of his and Sam's anguished yelps while being spanked. The two of the looked down and struggled past, headed toward their beds. Both climbed into them and lay face first on the thin matresses. Sam pulled his pillow over his head, and Jake hid his face in his arms. The mocking chant went on for awhile, then died down. Jake fought the urge to sob like a baby. Then there were footsteps approaching, and boy crouched down by Jake's buried head.

"Hey, don't sweat those guys," a soft, high-pitched little boy voice mumbled. "You were tougher than I woulda been. Man, she really toasted your butts!"

Heavy footsteps approached and the boy scampered away. The footsteps stopped between their beds. "Well, what do we have here?" Flips voice sang out. "A pair of goldbricking wussies! And me needing a latrine cleaning crew! Get up, you two! You're on latrine duty until dinner. Mob the floor, scrub the toilets and urinals, and wash them all down! And get those clothes off - you do latrine duty in your underwear!"

Jake and Sam raised their heads and looked up at Flip. "Now, wussies!" he said. "Or I'll tell the sister I need the glass room because you refused your turn at latrine duty."

"You want to do it, jerkoff?" Flip said menacingly. The boy looked back down at his book. "Up, right now, you two!" he said to Jake and Sam.

Groaning, the boys rolled out of bed, their butts having tightened up something fierce while they'd been lying there. Jake carefully peeled off his shirt and slipped off his shoes, toeing off socks so he wouldn't have to bend over. He reached for his pants buckle. Several of Flip's friends came over to watch them undress.

"Nice stiffy you flashed at the girls," one said to Jake. "What is it, half an inch long?" he held his fingers up a tiny distance apart to demonstrate to his friends the length of Jake's erect penis. Jake hesitated, then looked away and began unbuckling and unzipping his pants. Sam was already ahead of him, pulling pants slowly off his legs, wincing from the after effects of being spanked.

"Hey, don't worry," another one said. "The girls probably couldn't even see it - none of them had a telescope. Or if they did, they probably thought it was just a big clit."

Jake slowly and carefully peeled his pants off his butt and managed to get them off. What in the world was a clit? He stood there in his underpants with Sam, waiting for instructions.

"I should make you do it bare-ass naked," Flip said. "But Sister Grace probably wouldn't approve and she'll be by to check on you two." He pointed toward the closet by the bathroom. "The mop bucket and the rags are in there. Scrub the insides of the toilets and urinals out first, then wash the outsides and dry them, then mop the floor. And you'd better be done before dinner - I'd love an excuse to slipper your little butts. On top of what you just had, it'd be real painful."

Sam and Jake walked slowly to the closet and collected their equipment. There didn't seem to be any toilet brushes. Same and Jake looked at Flip, wondering what they were supposed to do.

Flip grinned an evil grin. "There aren't any toilet brushes," he said. "Only old boys's underpants for rags. They might have shit in them yet, but you're using them to clean shit so it doesn't matter. You clean the toilets by sticking your hand in and scrubbing. And you'd better get every one spotless. Take turns, so you both get the experience. You can wash your hands again after you're done."

"We can't clean toilets with our hands!" Sam protested. "There's poop in there!"

"Sister Grace said that after today you couldn't..." one of the taller boys who wasn't part of Flip's circle began. Flip cut him off. "Sister Mary Catherine said I could," he said. "And Sister Grace has no objections to me and the prefect taking you to the glass room."

The boy subsided, just staring stonily at Flip. Jake made a mental note to talk to this boy. His name was Craig, or Clyde, or some such thing. He seemed to know something he and Sam should know, too.

"Get on, you two little pants pissers," Flip said dismissively. "Go get some shit on your hands."

The boys, sickened by the prospect of cleaning toilets with their hands, moved to the first toilet in the row. They eyed the brown streak in the bottom of the bowl with green expressions. "It can't be that bad. I'll do the first one," Sam finally said. "You get poop on your hands when you wipe, sometimes. It's just like that."

"Yeah, but then it's my poop," Jake said.

"Look, I'll go first. We'll take turns after that." He got on his knees and set to work, plunging his hand bravely into the bowl. Jake had trouble reaching into the water on the second toilet, but after that it didn't seem so bad, and pretty soon they were laughing at the mess each new toilet would pose for whoever's turn it was. They slowly moved down the toilets one at a time. From their positions on their knees, all the toilets smelled of pee, and all had poop stains that had to be scrubbed out of their bowls. Their butts throbbed and itched and burned as they worked, and soon their arms were tired from polishing and scrubbing, and their hands were white and wrinkled. They were just finishing the last toilet when Sister Grace came in. She looked at them in surprise.

"I thought you two might be licking your wounds and preparing for tomorrow by resting on your bunks," she said. She was carrying something in a large bag.

"Flip said we had to do latrine duty," Sam said.

She looked closer. "You're washing the toilet bowls with your bare hands?" she said. "Where is the toilet brush?"

"Oh, of course," Sister Grace said. "Well, if your boys can't take care of your room's equipment, I suppose they must suffer the consequences. Carry on, boys. I just came in to check on your possible medical needs - we can't have you getting infections from cuts or breaks in the skin, you know. Not with at least 5 more days still ahead of you." She set the bag down and looked at both boys, bent over a toilet in their underwear. "In fact, you can keep working while I do my job. Just get on all fours and keep scrubbing, and I'll examine and tend to each of you as you work."

A group of boys had gathered new the door, watching, as this exchange had gone on, and they watched avidly as the boys struggled into position with their butts thrust behind them. Sister Grace walked to Jake first, settling heavily onto her wide bottom and crossing her legs in front of her, then letting her warm hands grasp his waist to steady him. In moments, she was slipping under his worn underpants and sliding them below his buttocks down onto his thighs. She examined the surface of his now bare butt minutely. "Nothing serious here," she finally said, her face so close Jake could feel her breath in his butt crack. "But we'd better look inside." To Jake's chagrin and considerable discomfort, she gripped his painfully sore butt firmly and spread his butt cheeks, examining his anal orifice and his butt crack all the way down to his wrinkled bulge of a ball sack. "I think just the baby oil for you," she said. "No broken skin, so no need for horse liniment." She reached in the bag and took out a glass bottle with a picture of a naked baby on it, along with the large words, "Baby Oil." Boys in the corner giggled. She cupped her hand, poured a large amount of oil into it, and began smoothing the cold, oily liquid all over Jake's bare butt.

Jake stiffened and gave a little yelp. "Owww!" he complained. "Please, sister! That hurts!"

"It has to hurt if it's going to heal," she replied. "Now stop being a baby - I have to rub it in firmly." She went back to kneading his buttocks, which went back to complaining about the treatment. The pressure hurt his sore skin, and her hands tickled, and the humiliation of getting this treatment in front of the other boys made his face burn. Her hands made sweeping motions around his buttocks, dipping so deeply into his butt crack they pressed over his butt hole as they passed and even stroked the back of his scrotum. The soreness of his butt made it uncomfortable, yet it tickled, too, in his boy parts. In moments, his little finger of a penis was rising, pushing its head out of the foreskin and pressing up against his belly. He hoped against hope that they other boy's couldn't see it with him down near the ground.

It seemed Sister Grace's ministering to him went on and one, but finally she gave his butt one last pass and lifted her hands. "Best let that air out a bit," she said loudly. "Leave your underpants down for now."

Down? Jake froze. He had a raging hard on from her touch, and she was saying he had to keep his underpants down? He didn't want the other boys to see him that way! He shifted positions, crawling to the other side of the toilet so that it was between him and the boys by the door. Sister Grace was pulling down Sam's underpants. Despite his own distress and impending humiliation, Jake still looked with interest at his first glimpse of Sam's butt since they'd been bare-butt spanked. Sam's butt was a dusky red, almost purple color, with visible blotches and welts all over the surface. He wondered if his own butt looked like that. From what he could see of the sides of it in a casual glance, it did. He concentrated on scrubbing the toilet bowl, this one such a mess he was turning the water brown with his efforts. Go down! Go down! He told his dick, but it wasn't listening.

Sister Grade made a "tut-tut" sound with her lips. "You have a bit of a skin break," she said. "Probably a nick from a fingernail - right here." She poked Sam's sore butt painfully just inside his butt crack, directly above and to one side of his anus. Sam gave a surprised yelp. "Hold still and don't be a baby," Sister Grace admonished. She looked in her bag. "I've got the horse liniment right here," she said. She opened a short, flat jar and took a dollop of what looked like industrial axle grease onto her fingers. She leaned toward Sam and began rubbing it into his injury. "This may burn a bit," she cautioned.

"WHOOOOOOP!" Sam squealed. He jumped to his feet and began hopping up and down next to the toilet, both hands gripping his butt tightly. His limp penis flopped wildly, hitting his lower tummy with a slap with each hop as he caromed in a circle around the toilet. "Ow-ow-ow-ow-owwwww!" he squealed, buns clenching, penis flapping. Sister Grace calmly put her jars away.

"I believe that will do the two of you for now," she said. Sam had jumped out of his underpants, and she bent and retrieved them. "These look like they're for the rag bin," she said, examining them critically. She looked at Jake's dingy briefs, still around his thighs. "Those, too," she said. "I'd best just take them now. You can put on others when you're done with your latrine duty."

"But sister, we don't have any others," Jake said mournfully as he watched his only underpants disappear."

"I'll mention it to the Mother Superior," she said calmly. "For now it would be better if you weren't so tightly clad under your pants anyway," she added. She knelt by Jake and pulled his underpants to his knees, leaving him no choice but to lift up his knees and let her pull them down, then lift his feet and let her take them clear off.

"What?" Jake asked, his underpants leaving him and making his hard on a more desperate problem.

"You can go without now," she said. "Just make sure if you have to heed a call of nature, that you do your duty well afterward."

Jake puzzled over that keeping his lower body concealed from her and the boys by the door behind the toilet, willing them all to go away. He got part of his wish. Sister Grace sailed out the door as serenely as a schooner heading to sea. The other boys stayed in the doorway, though, all their attention on Sam, whose whoops and jumps were diminishing. He eventually paused, panting. "Wow, that stings," he wheezed.

"Yeah, it's nasty stuff on sore places," a boy next to Flip said. "It'll burn for awhile, but it does help you heal."

"And you're gonna need it," Flip himself said. "Remember what Sister said - make sure you wipe your butts good when you take a shit." He turned and left the room, the other boys following until they were all back in the dorm. Jake heaved a sigh of relief and moved to the next toilet. Sam looked at his quizzically. Jake flashed Sam a glimpse of his crotch.

"Oh," Sam said. "Here, put some of this on it." He ran a finger over his sore spot and came up with a smear of the horse liniment. Without thinking, Jake picked it up on his own finger and dabbed it on the now unhooded tip of his own penis. His penis tip began to burn immediately, and he sucked in his breath, panting. His hard-on began shrinking immediately. Fighting the urge to dance, he slipped over to the next toilet. Now both his butt and his dick burned -was this day never going to end?

But it did, of course. They finished cleaning the toilets just in time for line up for dinner. Fortunately Jake's hard on showed no signs of returning, and Sam didn't have one either, so their walk naked back through the dorm wasn't as embarrassing as it could be. They had to hurry, though, scrambling into their pants and socks and shirts quickly, while Sister Grace stood over them with crossed arms. It felt funny being in pants without underwear - they could feel the rough cloth of their trousers brushing their private areas here and there, so Jake's hard-on returned as he walked. But there were advantages to having a short penis at times, and no one appeared to notice his slight tent. Eating, they had to sit on the hard benches, the first time Jake had sat since the spanking and both of them had to pant a minute, their butts throbbing so painfully it almost brought tears to their eyes. They lay on the lawn during playtime afterward, as girls and boys talked in little circles or played games. A boy Jake recognized came near, and Jake called him over.

"It's Clyde, isn't it?" he asked the boy.

"Clive," the boy said. "Sorry you guys are Flip's new targets. Hang in there - a lot of us know what you're going through, believe me."

"You got the elevator?" Sam asked with interest.

"Escalator," Clive said. "It's like a bunch of steps that move by themselves. Marshall Fields has one."

Neither boy knew what Marshall Fields was, but they let that pass. "What did you say to Flip about Sister Grace - you know, when he said he'd slipper us?"

"Oh. He doesn't want you to know. Sister Grace said that, since you're doing an escalator, he can't slipper you normally like he can us. If you're bad she'll take it to Sister Mary Catherine, and she'll add steps to your escalator instead."

"But I can slipper you," Flip said, suddenly appearing in the gloom. "Report to the glass room now. You know I said not to talk to them." The boy blanched, opened his mouth, then his shoulders slumped and he nodded, trudging off toward the dorm.

Flip looked at Jake and Sam. "Keep it up, you two, and I'll slipper all of them. And who do you think they'll blame for it?" He smirked and walked away with a cocky stride after the boy he'd sent to the dorms.

"They'll blame him, not us," Sam said confidently.

"Maybe," Jake said. "But do you want to get a bunch of kids' butts beat because of us? We'd better be careful who we talk to from now on."

They lay their alone and in silence the rest of the play time. Then they trudged into the dorm with the other boys. Clive was lying on his bunk already, in his underpants only, but he got up as the other boys entered, avoiding Jake and Sam's eyes, and went into the bathroom to pee as the rest of the boys got into bed. Then, of course, the ritual of the baring of the spanked butts, as Jake had started thinking of it, had to be observed, and Sam and Jake pulled off their clothes and lay beside each other across Sam's bed. In a moment, Clive joined them, pulling down his pajama bottoms and revealing a bright red butt with clear slipper outlines around the edges. The other boys gathered around as before, giving Clive little attention but seriously examining Jake and Sam's dusky red butts and commented on their extensive welts and bruises. Clive rose without a word, pulled up pajama bottoms, and crossed the room to his bunk. Jake finished undressing and then decided to forego pajamas afterward, the thought of anything touching his hypersensitive butt being intolerable. Sam, seeing him climb onto the bunk butt naked, followed suit, both lying face down in the warm dormitory, eschewing even the covering of sheets.. They lay there awake for awhile, each wondering what they faced tomorrow. They'd already been painfully paddled on their underpants and viciously spanked on their bare butts. What could they be facing next? And then what about the next day, and the day after that?