Punishment School Chapter 2
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."


Needless to say after that I certainly didn't want it again.
But  just as certainly, everyone else wanted to see me get
it again. And I  did.

A few weeks past. I behaved and no incidents occured. I
thought it was  over. I was wrong. It happened after lunch.
In the courtyard. It was crowded  with students. Suddenly,
right next to me, a girl SCREECHED.

"Somebody  pulled my hair!"

"It was the new kid," a boy's voice spoke out.

Everyone  turned and looked at me. A chorus went up.

"That's right." "The new kid did it." "David did it."

Before I could react at all, Sister Donald Marie was coming
through the crowd of students. Right over to me.

"What's going on here?"

"David pulled my hair. Hard," the little girl wined.

"But I didn't," I tried to protest. "I...

"Don't make it worse by lying," Sister cut me off. "Ofcourse
it was you. It's the punishment room for you and right now."

She grabbed my ear and pulled me away. Through the grinning,
laughing, pointing students. Straight to the Student
Punishment Room door. She unlocked it. Opened it. Pushed me
inside.

Nothing had changed inside. I stood in the middle. Knowing
what was coming would be worse than what I got before. As
Sister closed the door, I could see the other students
crowding right up next to it. Where they could listen to my
punishment. The thought started my humiliation. Sister
locked the door.

"Never have I had a student misbehave so soon after
receiving a punishment from me. Never. It's a complete
affront to me. A challenge to my authority. You're going
regret that, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sister," I agreed. Knowing now that there was nothing
I could do or say to avoid these punishments. I'd just have
to survive them. Somehow.

"Oh yes, indeed."

She pulled the chair into the center of the room. Sat down.
Arranged her skirt.

"Get over here. Right in front of me." I did. "Remove every
stitch of your clothing. Now! Starting with your shoes."

And that's where I started, shaking with dread at the
thought. My shoes and socks came off.

"Place them neatly over there."

My shirt followed. Then my pants. Button, belt, zipper. Down
to my ankles then off. Leaving me standing there in my
underwear. I hesitated.

"Get them off!" she barked.

I put my fingers under the elastic band. Pulled my shorts
down. Stepped out of them. Laid them with the rest. Stood
up.

"Hands at your side."

So that I was completely naked in front of her. My penis,
adolescent manhood, exposed to her view. The humiliation was
profound.

"Over my knee." I bent over. Across her lap. Hands on the
floor. Legs straight out. The course fabric of her habit
rubbing against my penis. She got me positioned. Then went
to it. Same as before. Hard. Steady. Until my butt was again
a red, burning mess.

"Up."

I stood up, again exposing my penis. Which, to my horror,
had grown from the stimulation. Instinctively, I tried to
cover it.

"Hands at your side!" she roared. "That's two more strokes
of the strap for disobedience. So, you enjoyed your
punishment, did you?"

"No, Sister."

"I can see otherwise. I'm not surprised. The worse the boy
the more likely he'll get sexually excited by his
punishment. We'll just have to chastise you all the more for
it. Last time you took the strap against the wall. Did no
good. So now you get it on the table. Lay on top of it. Face
down.

"Oh, no," I thought but dare not speak it as I climbed up
onto the long table. Laid myself out on it, my naked flesh
feeling the soft felt.

"Hands above your head. Grip the edge of the table. Legs
spread." Leaving me completely at the mercy of the strap.
Which Sister took from the cabinet. Showed to me as she came
to the head of the table."Seven strokes it was last time.
Did no good. So it's ten plus the two extra for
disobedience. How many alltogether?"

"Twelve, Sister," I sobbed.

She stepped out of my view. To the side of the table.
Limbered her arm. Found her target - my quivering ass -
and...

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
SLAP! SLAP!!!! She blistered my butt. Without stopping. The
hard table holding firm under me, making the punishment more
painful than before. I cried out louder with each stroke,
knowing that the students outside the door were getting an
earful, but unable to stop myself. At the end I just laid
there, sniffling. Quivering. Naked ass burning. Welted. She
left me there.

"It is plainly obvious to me," she lectured, "that you are
not going to be saved by the usual discipline. Being the
bastard son of a sinful mother has left you soiled deeply.
Unusually harsh methods will be needed to cleanse you. Here
our punishments are progressive. Getting worse for each
misstep. In a case such as yours, though, we won't wait for
you to misstep. You will be punished with each progression,
one a week, for the next six weeks. Beginning this Monday,
and every Monday thereafter, in your home room and then in
here. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sister."  My mind confused with suffering. What had,
what I was - laying face down and naked while she lectured
me - and what was going to happen.

"Get up and dress yourself."

I quickly did. Then stood still and silent, waiting to be
dismissed. Thinking. That today was Wednesday, which gave me
only four days until I suffered this humiliation and pain
again. And then every week after that, for I didn't know how
long.

"Get out of my sight," she commanded.

I did.