rphanage Boys Chapter 18 by Chadlad
copyright 2009 by Chadlad, all rights reserved chadlad3@yahoo.com
* * * * * 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. * * * * *
Chapter 18: Eighteenth Floor: Refrigerated Treats
Time passes very, very slowly when you're doing absolutely nothing, and
when you're ordered to stay still in one position. Even if that position
is a comfortable one, humans just aren't made to be in one position for
long periods of time. And the position that Sam and Jake were in wasn't
comfortable. Although it wasn't extremely uncomfortable, either. The
girls had positioned the boys' knees too far apart for comfort, so that
muscles on their inner thighs felt stretched and gradually began
complaining as the minutes passed. Having their heads lower than their
rumps made their backs start aching after awhile, too, and made the blood
tend to rush to their heads. But mainly the discomfort was borne of
embarrassment. With their rumps elevated and their legs spread, with no
clothing on at all, they presented anyone who might be within eyeshot a
veritable sex-education diagram of pubescent boy anatomy.
In fact, viewing the scene from a vantage point just outside the
windows, you could just see the robed professor aiming his pointer for a
rapt class and intoning, "Here you can see the boys' scrota, singular
scrotum, hanging between the thighs and enclosing the testes or testicles,
the very essence of boyhood. These ovoid structures contain many feet of
thin tubing lined with cells that will shortly begin dividing by the
millions to make spermatozoa in these two lads. Dangling in front of their
scrota, with the tip just visible, you can see the boys' penises, sometimes
called a 'member' or a 'phallus,' and also known by many other more vulgar
names. Boys urinate from their penises, of course, and this is also the
organ of intromission, the conduit by which the more mature lad will seek
to deposit his semen into whatever female he can convince to accept it - in
the case of these two, probably a $5.00 prostitute with gonorrhea, or a
girl with fewer teeth that prospects for marriage. Even young boys like
these two also handle this organ for pleasure almost every chance they get,
a procedure known as 'masturbation,' or 'onanism.' This area above the
scrotum," (here he would pause to drag his pointer up from each boy's
scrotum to his anus) "is called the perineum. It may just look like a flat
area of smooth skin, but it serves an important purpose - it cools the
blood on its way down to the testes, and heats the blood back up again on
its way back up. Sperm cells won't mature if the testes are much above 92
degrees. This is why males with undescended testes are sterile. This area
remains open in females to form the vagina, but in males it closes while
still in utero, creating this ridge which, as you can see, is more
prominent in some males than others. Now further up, above the perineum,
we have, of course, the anus, a powerful, pursed muscle that closes off the
posterior end of the rectum. The rectum holds feces that accumulates from
digestion until it is full, at which point the feces is expelled by forcing
it out the anus, which can open up quite widely for that purpose. It is
not uncommon for boys such as these to put things into their anuses,
including the rounded ends of clothes pins, fingers, and, yes, even the
penises of other boys, in a poor imitation of sexual intercourse with
females, who are often unavailable to boys of this age. Because the
prostate gland, found at the bottom of the bladder at the root of the
penis, is pressed right next to the rectum, many boys find pleasure in
having things in their rectums, pressing this highly sensitive gland, and
some boys may even orgasm in this condition. Now as you can see, neither
of these boys have pubic hair, so it's unlikely that either is capable of
ejaculation at this point, but they can still have dry orgasms, which these
two have undoubtedly experienced through their own manipulations. Now we
shall give this boy an enema and then insert the speculum so that all of
you can see the inside of the rectum for yourselves, and while we're
waiting for his enema to serve its purpose, we'll have the other one stand
and demonstrate how boys masturbate. Note as you watch his particular
technique, as well as the muscular contractions and expressions that lead
up to and accompany orgasm. It's a pity these boys are still unable to
ejaculate and demonstrate that process to you, but on the brighter side,
the results, although less informative, will also be, thankfully, less
messy."
Yes, you could just picture such a sex education class, but not here -
not in this place and at this time. No, here, instead of a robed, vaguely
English-appearing public school professor, you'd have a tough,
hatchet-faced nun, her face showing powerful disapproval and revulsion as
she used her pointer to prod each disgusting part of a boy's nether
anatomy, emphasizing how gross and unclean the boy's anus was, providing
clear evidence of the sloth and perversion of boys, who can't even bother
to wipe themselves properly, and how close to that disgusting orifice the
small scrotum was, with its unsightly wrinkles that might be hiding who
knows what, probably just festering with disease organisms. And she'd
point out the dangling little hooded penises, noting that, like the heathen
Philistines, these boys were uncircumcised, and thus had not made the holy
covenant of Abraham with God, and undoubtedly the dirt from their
besmirched rear orifices had contaminated their disgusting, dangling,
unsightly little worms as well. She'd probably also point out that boys
touch their penises, just as our imagined professor type had done, but
she'd show her extreme disapproval of such behavior, pointing out that it
was the sign of animalistic urges that a normal, Godly boy would never
succumb to. She'd refer to the boys' spontaneous erections as tests from
God, sent to distinguish the Godly from those bound for Hell. And she'd
remind the girls in her audience that they should never think about these
forbidden organs, never even consider picturing a boy's crotch at all, and
if presented with one, avoid looking at it, except as necessary to perform
the duties of motherhood in the process of cleaning and diapering. She'd
not mention any purpose of the boys' members other than "making water," and
if asked by a bolder girl about wifely duties involving this member (though
she almost certainly wouldn't be), she'd tell the girl and all the girls
that a good Catholic woman submits to her husband because she must, but she
takes no joy in it, perhaps reciting Hail Marys or Our Fathers in her mind
until he's finished his gross actions necessary for begetting the next
generation, hopefully as quickly as possible. And once past her child
bearing years, such activities would of course be terminated, and the woman
could live as God truly intended woment to live, a life free of such
perversions as needed to satisfy men - the life that the grateful nun, in
her blessings, had chose for her life.
But, thankfully, as far as Jake and Sam were concerned, no one at all
was viewing their naked posteriors at the moment, despite how invitingly
they were being displayed. There was no one wondering what it would be
like to run their hands over the welts and blisters on their bare flanks,
welts that even were present in their butt cracks and speckling their red,
irritated anuses, and spread down their perinea to dimple their scrota.
There was no one to wonder what it had felt like to receive the punishments
that had created those welts and blisters, either. No virgin,
inexperienced girls to feast their eyes on male anatomy, openly displayed
for their education, no proud, sturdy young lads to congratulate themselves
on the fact that their genitals were bigger, their bottoms were unmarked,
and they were safely enclosed in pants and underpants and not on display
being mocked by others. No nuns to glare at their privates with obvious
distaste, making it clear in their pinched faces that avoiding sights like
this was exactly why they'd become nuns. Not even any wayward priests to
gaze at their hindquarters with a different feeling in mind, anticipation
of plans to come and of soft flesh to be teased, tortured, or savored at
their whim (Father McKenzie was, at this moment, busy administering one of
his "treatments" to a lad no bigger than Jake, using his natural applicator
rather than the rubber rod he'd used on thsee boys, and thus wasn't giving
them a moment's thought).
The girls continued their whispering conversation on the other side of
the room, a conversation that consisted of Kath speaking extended periods
of time interspersed with short interjections by Freck. Kath was smiling
in a superior fashion, her eyes sparkling, and Freck looked at turns
sickened and amazed. Jake found himself wondering what they were talking
about over there. (Had he been able to hear, he would have been even more
amazed and possibly sickened than Freck, because Kath was describing to
Freck, in explicit detail, just why boys had those dangling little things
sprouting from their groins, just where boys wanted to put them when they
grew stiff and upright, and what they wanted to do with them once they were
placed there. It all sounded incredibly improbable to Freck, who kept
insisting that Kath couldn't possibly be right about that, that there was
no way that such a messy, disgusting process was how babies were made, that
there was no possibility her sainted mother would ever have let her father
do such a thing to her, and that there was absolutely no possibility she'd
ever let any boy do anything like that to herself.
The whispered discussion across the room went on and on, and Jake grew
increasingly self-conscious kneeling with his butt in the air in plain
sight of the windows, and his position became increasingly uncomfortable,
too. Eventually, though, as girls often do, the two of them left together
to cross to the girls' ward on the other side of the room to pee.
(Although Jake didn't know that's why they'd left - indeed, he hadn't even
considered the fact that girls did have to pee, just like boys did. He
just knew that they left, disappearing down the hallway. As soon as they
were gone from sight, he cautiously raised his head and front quarters, so
that he was standing on the bed on all fours instead of with his head down
as ordered.
"Ahhh," he sighed, reaching back with one hand to rub the small of his
back while balancing on the other. Next to him, Sam rose all the way up on
his knees, rubbing his own back. "Do you think we'll have to stay like
this the whole day?" he whispered to Sam.
"Hope not," Sam whispered back. He looked over his shoulder, relieved
to see no one was outside the windows. "Man, anyone can see us! Anyone!"
"They said we get worse tomorrow," Jake whispered back, making explicit
what had been on his mind the whole time. "Way worse."
"I don't want worse!" Sam almost wailed, but managed to keep his
complaint to a whisper. "I want to go home!"
"There's no going home," Jake said firmly. He'd always been the
sensible one of the two, the first to face facts, the first to bite the
bullet. "We just gotta get through it."
"My bum hurts," Sam whispered indignantly. "My bum hurts, and stuff in
front hurts, too. Where things come out. Both places where things come
out. It burns, Jake! I want to touch where it hurts, but they'll whip
us!"
Jake looked over at Sam's flaccid penis. The tip was an angry red, yet,
from the soap that had been used on them. Glancing under him, he saw that
the tip of his own penis was the same red color, and the fiery burn from
the piss slit was rivaling the burn from his butt hole. "Me, too," he
said. "But we can't. Never again. Only to pee."
"That priest touched us there," Sam said accusingly. "And the nuns.
And even these girls. Why can they touch us there and we can't? Our moms
didn't care if we touched ourselves there."
"Our moms aren't here," Jake said.
"It burns," Sam said. "I bet it'll burn if we have to pee, too."
Jake, who hadn't been thinking about peeing at all for the half hour
they'd crouched on the beds, now thought about his own bladder. He'd just
emptied his bladder not half an hour ago, emptied it on that boy whose name
he'd already forgotten, forced to do so by the wiry Mother Superior and her
threatening cane. But thinking about it made him kind of have to go, like
it always did when he thought about it. He tried to think about something
else. And as he did, he felt a rumbling in his intestines for the first
time in more than a day, for the first time since he and Sam had been
cleaned out with multiple enemas in front of all the boys. The rumbling
abated, but he felt a brief cramping that made him tense, but that quickly
let up.
"What's the matter?" Sam asked, noting his sudden tension and the
expression on his face.
"I think I got gas," Jake said, as another cramp seized and then
released him.
"Me too," Sam hissed back. He and Jake regarded each other across the
space between the beds, Jake still on all fours, Sam up on his knees.
After a moment, Sam tensed and clenched his bare butt, making his limp but
dangling penis jut briefly. "Man, that was a bad one," he said a moment
later, letting his butt relax again.
"You should just let it out," Jake said. "While the girls are still in
the other room."
"I can't," Sam said. "I tried to let it out as soon as they left. But
it hurts too much - I'm all sore back there. The BB's..." he trailed off.
But Jake knew what he meant. The BB's, the enemas, the treatment he and
Sam had gotten - all of them had taken a toll on his rectum and anus.
He reached back and gently massaged his butt, and Jake, after a moment,
lifted one arm, balanced on three, and tentatively probed his own butt as
well. His butt felt hot and bumpy, and oh, so sore! Sam winced as he
rubbed his well-paddled nates. "I'm so embarrassed," he whispered to Jake.
"Like, we're all bare, and the nuns and those girls, and Mother Superior,
and those other girls - they all just get to look at us, all bare. At all
our stuff. And anyone who comes by the windows will..." He stopped dead,
his face suddenly shifting to open fear. "Oh, God, it's her! Down!
Down!" He dropped to the bed, burying his head in the pillow with his ass
in the air. In moments, Jake followed suit.
"Who?" he hissed.
"That big nun. Sister Mary Whatsis! The one who paddles us! She's
headed this way!" Sam hissed in real panic.
Jake gripped his pillow against his head, his eyes turned to the side so
he could monitor the room out of the corner of his eye, hopefully without
being seen, and shoving his butt more rigidly upright to be in the
prescribed position. In moments, the outside door creaked, and Sister Mary
Catherine glided silently into the room, carrying a bucket in one hand
which she sat on the floor. She glared at the two boys, then moved between
the beds to regard them from behind. Jake held his breath, and Sam began
shivering slightly. Suddenly a big, rough hand gripped his butt, squeezing
it as if examining a squash for purchase. Her hand shifted and squeezed
the other side of Jake's butt. Jake winced, tensing, and she ran her
fingertips over the surface of his marred skin, then let her hand drift
down his butt and between his legs. She lifted his scrotum where it hung
between his legs, hefting his small balls as if weighing them. She
squeezed his small penis hard, appreciating its softness. "Hrrumph!" she
said, releasing him. In moments, Sam's gasp told Jake that he was being
similarly examined. "Hrrumph!" she said again.
Toilets flushed in the room on the other side of the wall. In moments,
a door banged, and the girls' voices could be heard approaching down the
hall.
"...just stop worrying! There's no way that Sister Mary Catbutt is
going to find out that we skipped out on laundry duty to watch him get his
whipping. As long as you don't say anything in confession, that is! And
there's no reason to confess - we didn't actually see anything - just his
butt and his hole. And his sack, of course - it's so big you can't help
but see that. But we didn't see it, if you know what I mean, and that's
all that matters. I wish we had, though. I bet it puts the little shits
in her to shame..."
The blond-headed Freck appeared into the room from the hall and stopped
dead. "Kath..." she said urgently, waving a shushing arm in the air.
"Don't give me that, 'I don't want to see a big one,' attitude," Kath
went on. "You know you do. You want to see one as bad as me, and touch
it, too..."
"Kath!" Freck said more urgently.
"What?" Kath said emerging from the hall. She froze at the sight of
Sister Mary Catherine. There was a pause as the large nun glared at them.
"Hello, Sister," Kath said smoothly. "I didn't hear you come in."
"Obviously," Sister Mary Catherine retorted. "You left these two alone.
They could have been doing anything. They could have run away. One of you
should be watching these two perverted little animals at all times."
Naked? Jake thought to himself. Yeah, that would happen. Without
clothes, he and Sam weren't going anywhere.
"Sorry, Sister. We had to go to the bathroom," Kath said.
"Not only were they out of the position that they were told to be in,
but they were touching themselves below the waist as I approached," Sister
Mary Catherine went on. "Even though they were ordered not to do so quite
explicitly by me." She glared at Sam and Jake, who were each watching her
warily with one exposed eye, the other buried in their pillows. "You two
will have to be punished for your continued disobedience to righteous
authority. Girls, fetch two new bars of soap from that shelf over there,
and take them to the sink and soften the outside surface."
The girls complied wordlessly, soon each returning with a foamy bar of
soap in one hand. "Up on all fours, boys," Sister Mary Catherine snapped.
"Open wide."
Heart pounding, Jake complied, and Sam followed moments later. In
moments, the familiar taste of soap was soaking into his tongue and oozing
down his throat. Half the bar stuck out of his mouth, his lips stretched
around it. Sam made a guttural sound in his throat, a tear drifting down
one cheek. "For disobeying my direct order to keep your hands off
yourselves, you boys will keep those bars of soap in your mouths for the
next hour," Sister Mary Catherine said. "If you obey the girls completely,
at the end of an hour the soap will be removed and you will be allowed one
brief rinse and then a glass of water to drink. If you disobey, the girls
have the authority to replace the soap for another hour."
Sam whimpered, and a soap bubble emerged from his nose and popped in
front of him. Sister Mary Catherine turned to the girls. "I have a
special treatment I have to administer on this one," she said, glaring at
Jake. Then I have some intricate instructions for you two."
She pulled a rubber glove out of the bucket and put it on, then opened a
small jar and took out a glob of white paste with a fingertip. "This
little animal shows unsightly pigmentation of his private parts, probably
the result of years of indifferent hygiene." She pointed at the brown ring
of Jake's anus with her gloved finger, then at the brown skin of his
scrotum. "The coloration will make it more difficult for dear Sister Grace
to tell at a glance whether he has cleaned himself properly when he exits
the showers. So it will be necessary to use this bleaching agent to return
those areas to a more seemly pink color, a color less similar to that of a
boy's natural wastes. I'll apply some now, so it can start the bleaching
action immediately. Sister Grace will apply more this evening. By
tomorrow morning, his parts should be a nice healthy pink color rather than
this unsightly brown." Finishing her explanation, she began rubbing the
paste into the ring of Jake's asshole. She rubbed it on his brown,
wrinkled, swollen anal area until the paste had been rubbed in, then she
obtained more and began rubbing it into his corrugated scrotum, shoving his
balls roughly to one side and then the other as she covered all of the
pigmented skin right up to the base of his penis and back to the whiter
skin between butt hole and balls. Then she stood back, looking down with
satisfaction.
Jake began feeling a mild burning sensation on his butt hole, a
sensation the quickly spread to his balls, creating an intense heat there.
It was almost painful, but not quite. Sister Mary Catherine watched the
boy's anal ring gradually become redder as blood was drawn to the surface,
reacting to the bleaching agent, followed by a reddening of his scrotum.
"Yes, it's beginning to work already," she said, a satisfied smile on her
face. "Cleaning the corruption of his body as well as his soul. By
tomorrow morning, all his parts will be a healthy pink rather than their
disgusting current color." She stripped off the glove.
"I need these boys to heal for the rest of the day as much as possible
so that their punishments may continue. We need to bring down the rectal
swelling of both of them, so I've brought some cones of ice along with me.
You will each take one of them, holding the wide end with a washcloth, like
this," she said, demonstrating. "Apply the narrow end to their anuses and
rectums, pressing inward firmly. Place folded towels between their legs to
protect the sheets from drips as the ice melts. You will hold the ice
cones in position for exactly 5 minutes, then you will remove them for 10,
repeating that cycle all afternoon. Press them in as far as possible each
time you apply them - the tips should penetrate the rectum to treat it as
well. I've brought a good supply of cones, which I will place in the ice
box in the corner to keep them frozen until you need them." She crossed the
room and put the remaining cones of ice away, returning swiftly and
retrieving a jar from her bucket. "During their rest times, you will apply
this lotion to their bollocks and anywhere else they're injured, rubbing it
in continuously the whole time. Disregard any complaints they may have
while treating them - pain is part of the healing process. At the end of
each hour, they get a 10 minute exercise break where they must walk around
and do exercise to stretch their injured bottoms--I suggest toe touches,
and positioning them on their backs and lifting their legs over their heads
repeatedly. They may have their water breaks then, as well. At the end of
10 minutes, apply the ice again, 5 minutes on, 10 minutes of healing
lotion. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Ma'am," the girls chorused.
"Good," Sister Mary Catherine said. "Sister Grace will return sometime
in the afternoon, when she has finished her other duties. At that point
she'll evaluate their conditions and give you new instructions. Oh, and
one more thing - these two have lost their toilet privileges until further
notice. If they have to do their animal duties, they will do them as they
are on the beds, using the bedpans. They can empty and clean the pans
themselves on their next break." Freck looked mildly perturbed, but Kath
smiled.
"Yes, Ma'am," she said. "You can count on us."
"Excellent," Sister Mary Catherine said. She turned to the hall leading
to the door. As she reached it, she turned back. "One more thing," she
said. "When Sister Grace arrives, she will be bringing one of the other
girls with her. You, Katherine, will report to my study and wait for me
there. I will not be there when you arrive, so you will prepare for me by
removing your skirt and undergarments and kneeling in the corner. While
there you may pray for your salvation until I arrive. We will be
discussing the folly of succumbing to animal curiosity, as well as the
proper respect to show to those who are your betters. My paddle will be
talking first and it will be making quite a statement on your bottom. You
can use the time between now and then to consider what you will be saying
when it is your turn to talk. If you do not confess everything, you can be
sure my paddle will be making an even longer statement. Do I make myself
clear?"
She glared at a now flushed Kath, then turned and glided silently out of
the room, passing by the windows moments later like a battleship headed to
sea. Freck and Kath, each holding cones of ice, looked at each other. For
the first time, Kath looked like her confidence had deserted her. "Damn,"
she said. "Damn, damn, damn!" She reached over suddenly and slapped Freck
on the back of the head with her free hand. "Why didn't you tell me she
was there! I'll be walking like a duck for a week! And sitting? Forget
it!" She popped Freck on the back of the head a second time. Freck,
belatedly, reached up to protect her head.
"I tried to tell you..."she began.
"Shut up!" Kath said. She swung a third time, but this time missed as
Freck ducked and backed away. Seething, she turned to a nearer target and,
seeing Sam's rump in the air, pressed the cone of ice into Sam's exposed
asshole, grinding it with little twists into his swollen hole, forcing the
tired muscle to open and admit the cold cone into the boy's tender rectum.
After a moment, Freck approached Jake's bed from the other side, out of
reach of Kath in case her temper reappeared, and more gently applied the
ice to Jake's swollen hole as well, pushing more gently. Still, his tired
anus gave way, and the tip penetrated a bit into his rectum. Both boys
shivered and tried to clench buns, but were helpless bend over and had to
accept the pressure of the ice which immediately began freezing their
insides.
"God, I hate getting paddled," Kath said after a moment. "Don't you?"
"I don't know," Freck said. "I suppose I'd hate it. Nobody ever
spanked me."
"You're kidding!" Kath said, sounding exasperated. "Never felt your
mother's pedicure digging into your lily white behind? Never had Dad feel
you up before blistering your heinie? My Dad liked looking at me
beforehand - he made me face him and he took my panties down himself. He
always ran his hands over my hairless little slit when I was a little girl,
and felt my butt up before he'd start. And he'd rub me all over afterward,
pretending he was comforting me - even let his fingers slip inside, and I
mean inside both places, front and back! And I think my mom got off on it,
because she always watched, just watched with her arms crossed. Sometimes
she'd say, "Harder, Neil! She can barely feel it! Even though I was
bawling my eyes out and my ass was covered with blisters! You never got
any of that? Ever?"
"No one ever spanked me," Freck said. "What's it feel like? I mean, I
know it hurts, but..." She frowned. "I mean, is it like a burn, or more of
like a scrape, or a sting? Is it hurt really bad? I know kids cry when
they get it - but... I mean, what's it feel like?"
"Ask them," Kath said. She pushed her ice cone harder, making Sam's now
cold paralyzed butt hole open to its full extent. She yanked Sam's
shoulder until he rose to a position on all fours, then reached down and
pulled the soap bar out of Sam's mouth with her free hand. Sam spit soapy
droll on his pillow, moaning and then coughing. "Tell her," she said.
"Tell her what it feels like to get your heinie blistered."
Sam coughed, almost choked, and coughed up more soapy drool, soaking his
pillow. He moaned more loudly, then suffered another fit of coughing.
"Tell her!" Kath said, pressing harder on the ice. When Sam continued
making little throat clearing noises, she reached under his belly and
tugging his dangling penis with her free hand.
"It...it hurts," Sam wheezed, then broke into a fit of coughing. "It
hurts a lot!" He stopped, swallowing and looking green, then coughed again.
"You can do better than that," Kath said, giving his penis a yank hard
enough to make it hurt where it entered his body.
"Like a bee sting," Sam sputtered. "A lot of bee stings. All at once.
All over your--your bottom. And it hurts more as you get more - you get
more and more sore. Until you can't stand it, but that doesn't matter,
because it still hurts even more than that. All you can think about is
that it hurts." He suffered through another coughing fit, spitting more
soapy drool on the pillow. "It hurts worse than anything," he said. "And
then it hurts worse than that."
"There you go," Kath said. "Open," she commanded Sam, and he
reluctantly opened his mouth and allowed her to shove the soap back in.
She pressed the back of his head, forcing his cheek into the drooly, soapy
mess on his pillow. Sam moaned as the soap began oozing down his throat
again. He shivered, and a loud, long fart slipped around the ice cone in
his asshole.
"Did he just..." Freck said, eyes wide.
"'Course he did," Kath said. "He's a boy. All boys do is fart. They
fart, they belch, and they piss on things. And when they get older, at
least older than these two little pricks, they cum on everything they can,
too. Yours will probably fart on you in a minute, too."
In fact, that's just was Jake was doing at that moment - trying hard not
to fart, hoping the gas would shift back higher in his intestines again.
But as if on cue, his own butthole betrayed him, and he released his own,
even louder fart, his butt hole, stiff with cold, vibrating obscenely with
a loud, "brrrrrpt."
"Gross," Freck said, looking disgusted. "I could feel it on my hand,
like a hot wind."
"At least they're not smelling," Kath said. "They got one of Sister
Mary Catbutt's enema marathons. Washes the stink right out of them." She
looked at the big clock on the wall. "Five minutes," she said. "Time for
the lotion." She pulled the ice out of Sam's butt, and in a moment Freck
followed through with Jake. She sat the ice between Jake's legs, resting
on the washcloth, and did a double take. "Hey, mine's like a little
tunnel," she said. "It's all open!"
"Duh," Kath said. "You paralyzed it with cold. A boy's ass hole is
just a muscle - if it gets cold enough, it doesn't move, just like any
other muscle."
Jake flushed around the bar of soap that was torturing his mouth and
throat. They were looking right into his and Sam's butt holes, right
inside of them. He felt violated. People shouldn't be looking into such a
private place. He felt like he wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. Then
Freck's hand, so unlike Sister Mary Catherine's, gently touched his butt,
and he quivered with surprising, confusing feelings. "She said to put
lotion on his bollocks and all the other places they're hurt," she said.
"What's bollocks?"
"It means balls," Kath said authoritatively. "They little marbles in
that bag between their legs. But I suppose we're supposed to do their
bottoms, too - they've got more blisters there than anywhere else."
"But we aren't supposed to touch their things, are we?" Freck said.
"'Course we are," Kath said. "She said to do everything by their
bollocks, and everywhere they're injured. Their boy things are by their
bollocks."
Neither girl was aware of Mary Catherine's misunderstanding in her use
of the word "bollocks," for a boy's buns rather than his balls, and thus
couldn't know that it was their bottoms that she wanted them to target.
So, tentatively on the part of Freck, and boldly on the part of Kath, both
boys were in moments getting their genitals massaged by the delicate hands
of two very attractive older girls. Both hardened instantly, and feelings
began pulsing through them again, those new feelings that they hadn't even
felt until the day before, but that now seemed an important part of their
lives. That building feeling began in both groins, and although all their
boy parts were sore, neither wanted the girls to stop. But in moments,
Kath spoke up and spoiled it all.
"That's enough for their privates," she said, although there was nothing
private about either boy's genitals. "If we keep going they'll cum, and
they shouldn't cum. Move to his backside."
His stiff, pulsing penis yearning for touch, Jake had to experience the
frustration of the girl's soft hand rubbing between his legs and then all
over his butt. And although the blisters on his butt still were sore and
sensitive, the lotion was very soothing indeed.
"Hey, look on the bright side," Kath said. "They're just little shits.
I bet Michael squirts buckets when he cums."
"Cums?" Freck said, looking puzzled.
"Squirts his baby snot," Kath said. "The stuff that comes out of their
pricks and makes babies."
"Do you have to talk about it?" Freck said, shivering.
"Oh, don't be such a prissy," Kath said. "It's just like snot. It
won't kill you if you don't get it in your cooze. And don't worry about
these two. They can't spurt, they're just little pricks. You can't spurt
unless you have hair."
Jake, his manhood wounded, wanted to protest that he had, indeed, had
hair, but it was stolen by the nuns. But his mouth was full of nasty,
disgusting soap, and he said nothing. His penis was all tingly now,
ultrasensitive and frustrated and yearning their touch. But Freck didn't
touch his again, and Kath didn't touch Sam's, either, which was
characteristically so erect that it curved until the tip touched his tight
belly. The rest of the ten minutes the girls rubbed lotion all over the
boy's bare butts, with Kath even insisting lotion be rubbed right around
their anal rings and into their rectums, still hanging wide open. The
girl's finger in Jake's rectum felt super weird, but also kind of good.
(It would have felt better if his rectum wasn't so sore.) Thus, when the 10
minutes was up and the ice was reinserted into bare rectums, it slid in
even farther in both boys, making them shudder with cold.
And so the time went - ice, a brief genital massage that left the boys
pulsating and frustrated, and then the intimate butt massage, over and over
until the hour was up and both boys were ordered to rise from the beds and
walk around the room. Jake felt stiff and sore and odd from the waist
down. His butt hole felt like an ice block, and his weenie tingled and
stuck straight out, the head swollen and extended out of the foreskin,
begging to be touched long enough to reach orgasm. The burning sensation
underneath caused by the bleach solution made his balls feel hot and his
anal ring tingle.
On the other hand, it was a supreme relief to be allowed to take out the
soap, although rinsing didn't do much to clear the soap taste from his
mouth. They were made to march around and around the room, Jake's penis
bouncing unsated in front of him, Sam's brushing its tip against his belly,
looking like a curved suitcase handle. The girls then made them stand in
the middle of the room and do deeper and deeper toe-touches, their butts
complaining at being stretched. But worse was yet to come. Kath ordered
them both on their backs on the beds and she and Freck each took one of
Jake's legs, lifting them up and over until his heels were by his ears, his
butt jackknifed in front of the girls with his genitals and asshole wide
open and visible from the windows. He could just picture kids outside
there, filling their eyes with his anatomy, pointing and laughing, but when
he was released and it was Sam's turn, he discovered no one was out there.
"Time's up," Kath finally said, releasing Sam's legs from over his head.
Jake had been unable to take his eyes off his friend's butt, which was
glistening with lotion, flecked with blisters, and, most disturbingly,
sported an open tunnel between the buns instead of a tightly pursed slit, a
tunnel that was bright pink and glistened as it led inside him. I look
like that, too, he said to himself. All open and exposed. It was gross,
it was disgusting, and it was something he couldn't stop looking at.
"Time for the ice again," Kath said cheerily, her face a malicious
smirk. She held up the dripping, shrinking ice cone for Sam. "And I think
we'll use the soap, too, to remind you to obey."
"Please, no," Sam said, his voice a juvenile whine. "Please, please no!
I can't stand it! It burns. And the ice is so cold!"
"We have to," Kath said. "It's what we were told to do. Come on , now.
Up on all fours. Bottoms in the air, legs nice and far apart."
"But...I....I gotta..." Sam stammered.
"Get your little butt up on that bed right now, young man, or I'll
squeeze that sack between your legs so hard that blood will come out of
your little pee-pee," Kath said evenly.
Sam gulped, looking distressed, then scrambled up onto the bed,
spreading his knees and thrusting his butt into the air. Jake also climbed
onto the bed, if more slowly, and lowered his own head, his face turned
sideways toward Sam's.
"But I gotta...I gotta..." Sam said in a small voice. He shifted his
weight from one knee to the other, his thighs flexing.
"You gotta what?" Kath challenged.
"I gotta POO!" Sam squalled.
"Oh, ick!" Freck squealed. She was standing between the bunks behind
them and had a bird's eye view of both butts with their wide-open, dilated
butt holes. "Ick, ick, ick! You can see it coming out!" She pointed with
a horrified expression at Sam's butt hole.
"Get the bed pan, idiot!" Kath screamed. She dived for the table across
the room and threw the bedpan toward Freck. It bounced off the other girl
entirely and landed by Sam's leg. Sam grabbed it himself and rammed it
under his butt, squatting backwards over the open hole in the pan. Loose
shit poured out of his butt like a brown snake, coiling into the pan
between his legs as Freck watched with a horror-striken expression. It
broke off and fell, but more followed, and then more still as his bowels
emptied, unrestricted by the boy's frozen anus. Sam felt the urge to
clench his abdominal muscles and did so, forcing the last of it out. Only
then, belatedly, did his anus finally, slowly pinch itself mostly shut,
with just the smallest little hole remaining open, dark pink tissue of his
rectum now showing once again after squeezing out the last of his urgent
movement.
He settled forward again, raising his butt higher off the bed pan now
that he was done, so that he could breath more easily. Panting, red faced
in embarrassment, he fought down the diarrhea-like burning sensation that
had overwhelmed him and caused him to do right in front of the girls what
he had previously done in private ever since he'd gotten old enough to wipe
himself.
"Yuck," Freck exclaimed, breaking the silence. "It's all over his--you
know--the wrinkled part."
"You mean his butt hole or his balls?" Kath challenged.
"Both," Freck said. "It's on everything back there."
"So do what you do when your shit is on you," Kath said. "Wipe him."
"Can't he wipe himself?" Freck said, looking a bit green.
"Nope," Kath said. "Remember? They can't touch themselves down there.
So you have to wipe him."
"Why do I have to wipe him? He's yours. The other one is mine," Freck
protested.
"God, do I have to do everything around here?" Kath asked no one in
particular. Stalking to the toilet across the room, she unreeled toilet
paper into her hand and then stalked back. She dropped the loose mass of
toilet paper on the bed by Sam's feet, circled his thin waist with her
strong arm, and lifted his ass until his butt was fully jackknifed under
her gaze. Tearing off a handful of toilet paper sheets with the other
hand, she began scrubbing his ass hole as roughly as she could. Sam began
protesting into the pillow.
"Owww! It hurts! Stop that! It hurts!" he moaned, kicking feebly.
Freck, worried about the bed pan, slid it from between the boy's kicking
feet while keeping her body an arm's distance from its contents. Kath
tossed the soiled toilet paper artfully into the moving pan and
one-handedly ripped off another set of sheets and went to work on Sam's
balls. Sam began protesting more loudly.
"Shut up, you big baby," Kath scolded. "I can't possibly be hurting
you, your balls aren't any bigger than a hamster's!"
"it does! It hurts!" Sam protested. Kath scrubbed more viciously,
pressing the boy's small ovoid lumps into his groin. She tossed the toilet
paper aside.
"Okay," she snapped. "If it hurts, we'll have to numb it. Give me that
ice," she said to Freck. The other girl handed her one of the cones, a new
one she'd just removed from the refrigerator. Kath turned the cone around
and pressed the wide, flat side to the balls of the little boy she was
holding by the waist. Belatedly, Sam tried to close his legs, but the ice
was already pressing hard on his balls, the frigid cold soaking into his
groin. His penis, already shrunken from pain, tried to crawl into his
body, and the girl shifted the flat of the ice until it pressed against the
tip of it as well. Sam let out an anguished moan as his privates began
freezing.
"Shut up," Kath said again. "The longer you make noise, the longer I
keep this on your baby boy parts. You might get frostbite of the wiener."
Sam, starting to shake from the cold, stilled his protests and buried
his face in the hot, wet pillow, biting his lip to keep from crying out.
His whole crotch felt frozen, his butt hole and rectum burned, and his butt
still ached from being spanked, paddled, and shot with BBs. This was
without a doubt the most miserable day of his life. And yet, it was not
over. He and Jake were at the mercy of these two girls. Across from him,
Jake buried his own head in the pillow as Freck, every obedient to the
nuns, applied her cone of ice to his still open butt hole, the cold
penetrating into his rectum as his hole surrendered and opened all the way
to the invader. He could feel stirrings in his intestines - would he, too,
have to poop in that horrible position, and shame himself like Sam had
done? And what about tomorrow? Sister Grace had suggested that the next
step of the escalator would start then. And the next step was a higher
step, which meant a worse punishment. But what could be worse than enemas,
and public bare-butt spankings, and slipperings, and whippings, and
paddlings, and being shot in the butt? What could be worse than having a
solid cone of ice pressed into your open rectum by girls barely older than
yourself? What could be worse than having your dick and balls shot at with
a BB gun?