Punishment School Chapter 1
by The Pro from Dover
bigtx1n@hotmail.com

copyright 1996 by The Pro from Dover, all rights reserved

"The following is a work of erotic fiction and does not
represent, in any way, any actual events.  Furthermore, the
author would not condone or participate in any such activity
in actuality."


I was the illegitimate child of the wayward daughter of a
strictly religious family. Abandoned by my mother when I was 
twelve, I was sent to live with her family. A daily reminder
of the shame my  mother caused, I was sent to a parochial
school, run by a small, obscure  Catholic order, in a remote
town, in a northwestern state when I was  thirteen. Here I
would learn the meaning of severe punishment and 
humiliation.

I was marked for such right from the start. The family sent
a  long letter to the school principal, Sister Donald Marie,
detailing the  circumstances of my birth and early life,
opinioning that my soul was  polluted by association and
needed to be chastised clean for my own  salvation. At the
time I didn't know of the letter. I only felt its  effects.

I had only been there a few weeks when it started. Without 
warning. They had been lonely weeks, shunned by fellow
students for being  new and treated hostily by teachers
because of the letter. It was lunch time  and as I exited
the main building for the playground Sister Donald Marie 
accosted me by the arm and pulled me aside.

"Have you been behaving  yourself so far, young man?" she
demanded.

"Yes, sister," I replied with  quick defference.

"Have you?" she insisted.

"Oh yes, sister."

"Oh yes,  sister," she mocked. "Oh no is more like the truth
considering what you are.  Isn't that right?"

I didn't know what she meant, so I hesitated. She shook  me
hard.

"Yes, sister."

"Yes. So we won't have any trouble out of you,  will we?"

"No sister."

"Because we practice strict corporal discipline in  this
school. Inside that room right there." She pointed to a door
across the  courtyard. Marked plainly - Student Punishment
Room. "Or sometimes outside  of it, if more severity is
warranted. Because we do whatever is necessary to  chastise
students back to the Lord God. Do you understand?"

"Yes,  sister."

"It better be," she warned, letting go my arm and walking
away.

I  took her threats very seriously, even if I didn't
understand why, and was  determined to behave. I didn't know
the odds were stacked against me. That  conspiracies were
afoot to see me humiliated and punished. More severely  than
any student before.

It all began just a few days later. In home room.  Two boys
began to push and hassle me. Until finally I pushed back.
And was  caught immediately by the teacher, Mrs. Armbruster.
She would listen to no  explanation of mine and I quickly
found myself standing outside in the hall.  Waiting for
Sister Donald Marie. The realization dawning that I was
going to be punished corporally. 

I heard her hard steps approaching, my dread rising  with
every click. She rounded the corner. Her face was tense with
righteous anger. Her eyes drilled into me.

Without a word, she took hold of my ear  and pulled me off
down the hall. She pulled hard and walked fast, making me 
almost run to keep from losing my ear. Out the main
building. Across the  courtyard. Straight to the door of the
Student Punishment Room. She unlocked  it. Swung it open.
Pushed me inside.

The room was sparsely furnished. One  chair. One low, long
table covered with felt. Two cabinets on one wall. A  long,
round bar across another, three-quarters the way up it.
Sister came in  behind me. Closed the door. Locked it. She
let me stand there, sweating.

"Didn't take you long, did it? DID IT?" she roared.

"No,  sister," I mumbled.

"No. And not that soon after you told me you wouldn't.  You
said that, didn't you?"

"Yes, sister."

"So, then, you lied."

"But  I..."

"Don't you dare try to make excuses or blame someone else.
Just admit  it. Admit it!"

"I lied."

"Yes. And there're few things worse. The last  student I had
in here took the strap over his pants. But he wasn't bad
like  you. No. Your bottom is going to be bare. And I'll
spank you before the  strap.

She sat down on the chair. Arranged her black skirt, drawing
the 
fabric tight across her knees. She pulled me over beside
her.

"Get those  pants undone. Now!"

My hands trembling, the horror stabbing home, I undid  my
belt. Top button. Zipped down my fly. Then she reached up
and pulled my  pants down. Past my hips. Letting them drop
to to my ankles. I stood in  mortal shame, the room air
pimpling the skin on my legs, grateful the long  tail of my
uniform shirt covered my underwear.

"Pull that shirt up," she  ordered. "High above your waste."
I did so. Exposing completely my white  Jockey underwear.
She let me stand that way, suffering the humiliation  fully.
"Get down here."

I bent over. Put myself across her knees. Hands  reaching to
the floor for balance as she roughly positioned my bottom to 
suit her. She pushed my shirt further up my back. Then put
her fingers in  the band of my underwear and pulled them
down. Past my thighs. Below my  knees.

So there I was. Across this woman's, this nun's knee. My
bottom  completely bare and fully exposed to her sight. The
shame was  profound.

"Please, sister...," I started, unable to bear it.

"Don't you  dare beg. There's nothing worse than a
miserable, misbehaving boy who wants  forgiveness when
punishment is due. That will get you two more strokes of 
the strap. And it will be five more if I hear any more
begging out of  you."

That I didn't want so I resolved to suffer the shame. Which
I didn't  have to do for long before it was replaced by
some-thing else.

Pain.

As  Sister started to spank me. Spank my bare butt. Firm and
fast. The pain  rising as each slap made it more sensitive
for the next. And the next. Each  one making me gasp. I
"Ouched" and "Ohhed" but nothing stopped her. Or  slowed
her. On and on. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! For what seemed like
forever.  Until, finally, she stopped. I went limp. My butt
was burning. Throbbing. I  fought back tears.

"Your bottom looks properly warmed up now. Nice and  ready
to suffer seven strokes of the strap. Get on your feet."
Grabbing a  handful of my hair, she pulled up. I had no
choice but to follow. I got my  feet under me and
straightened up. My long uniform shirt tail fell and, 
blessedly, covered my naked penis. Instinctively, I reached
back and rubbed  my back-side.

"That's another stroke for trying to relieve your cleansing 
pain. Keep your hands crossed in front of you."

I complied immediately.  Sister then proceeded to the larger
of the two cabinets. Opened it to reveal  a selection of
belts, paddles, and a long, thick, black strap. I shuddered 
as she took this one out. Closed the cabinet. Came back in
front of me,  pulling the strap taught.

"See that bar across the wall?"

"Yes,  sister."

"Go stand in front of it."

I did as I was told. Humiliated  further by having to
shuffle with my pants and underwear down aroung my  ankles.
I reached the bar, which was just about at my eye level.

"Face the  bar and remove your shirt," she ordered.

"Yes, sister," I managed to say as  my heart sank. I slowly
unbuttoned my shirt. Then removed it and threw it  aside.
And there I stood. Completely exposed except for the clothes
looped  around my ankles. My red butt burning. Hands
covering my penis.

"Reach up  and grab hold of the bar with both hands."

I did, leaving my penis to  dangle free.

"Slide your feet back and lean against the bar."

And I did  this. Sister came up beside me. Appraised the
fine target my butt made in  this humiliating position. I
shuddered as she limbered the strap at her  side. Tensed
like wire when she tapped my ass with the wide leather, 
readying her aim.

"Eight strokes then, is it?" Is it!?

"Yes, sister," I  sobbed.

SLAP! The leather blistered across my cheeks. I yelped in
pain. My  knees buckled, causing me to lose the position.

"Keep the position, boy.  Lose it again and that's two more
strokes. Understand?"

"Yes,  sister."

SLAP! It landed again. Harder than before. I yelped louder
but  kept the position, my hands hurting with gripping the
bar so tight. SLAP!  SLAP! SLAP! The strap pummled my bare
butt. Making me buck forward and my  penis bounce. I had
never been punished before. And now this. I cried out  with
every stroke. SLAP! SLAP! I sobbed miserably, my body
quivering with  pain and humiliation. Sister let a few
torturous seconds pass. SLAP!!!! The  last stroke sunk in.
Hardest of them all. I cried out my loudest, doing all  I
could to hold the position. I just managed to. Sister just
let me stand  there. Exposed. Blistered.

"Now that's how punishment starts here. Behave  and it stops
here. Don't and it will get worse. Much worse. Both the pain 
and, especially, the humiliation. Do you want that?"

"No, sister."

"I'm  sure you don't. As sure as I am that you will get
more. Redress yourself.

I  couldn't wait to. Keeping my back to Sister I pulled up
my underwear and  pants. The fabric making my butt hurt and
burn worse. Reached for my shirt.  Tucked it in. Buttoned it
up.

"Now get back to your next class and don't  dawdle."

"No, sister." I replied before hurrying out.