The Orphanage Boys Chapter 11
by Chadlad

copyright 2009 by Chadlad, all rights reserved
[email protected]

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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 11: Eleventh Floor:

Jake was cold all over, and not just because his bare butt was totally exposed in the cool shade of the giant barn, or that he, in fact, had only the thinnest of leather bags protecting his privates from the eyes of the many girls who were gathered behind him. He was cold because of what was in front of him - a thing he had coveted close contact with since the first time he'd seen it in the hardware store window, last Christmas. But not this kind of contact - he'd expected to be at the operating en, not the receiving end. He stared at the BB gun in Father McKenzie's hands in horror. He and Sam were going to be shot in the behinds with BB guns, by the very girls they'd spied on? The idea was unthinkable. Wouldn't the BBs penetrate their skin, sink into their flesh? And what about their delicate butt holes, or anuses, he mentally corrected himself - the hole wasn't the problem, it was the exposed, sensitive muscle of elimination that surrounded the hole that he worried about. Wouldn't the BBs just go right into their anuses and up their rectums? Maybe rip holes in them?

Father McKenzie seemed to read his and Sam's expressions perfectly, because he answered Jake's fears directly. "Yes, the ladies are going to take turns shooting at your little painted targets with these. And it's going to sting quite a bit when they hit. This particular model of BB gun shoots BBs at a rate of more than 150 feet per second, and that's fast enough to raise little welts on bare skin when they strike. But not enough to penetrate the skin, just enough to make you sit up and take notice - they'll bounce off you neatly, but not until they've caused you considerable pain, much like the pain caused by a bee sting. I tested it myself on a couple of the older lads here on the farm just this morning, just to be sure. Now you boys have somewhat softer, more tender skin then they do, I'll grant you, so your welts will probably be bigger and more painful, but no permanent damage should be done to your little behinds."

He paused and smiled at first Jake and then Sam, his smile almost friendly. "Now you're probably worrying about a particular part of your respective anatomy at this point. What happens, you're wondering, if the ladies should be steady enough marksmen to hit the bulls-eye itself right in the center? And I wondered that, too, so I tested it, first on some young hogs, whose anatomy in that place is much like yours, and then on the two lads who, due to the need of a lesson in avoiding sloth, were drafted into helping me in my experiments. We found that, should one hit the target dead center, the BB tends to penetrate half an inch or so before stopping, causing no permanent damage, except, as the boys could attest were they not lying on their stomachs right now recovering, causing considerable pain inside of you, and perhaps necessitating the need for enemas for a couple of days if you should have the misfortune to be struck there repeatedly. And the pellets themselves are flushed out easily with the first enema, or they can be extracted with an easy digital procedure."

"Really, Father. There is no need to be this graphic. And girls, I believe all this levity is quite unseemly. We have a serious task here," a female voice pontificated.

"Ah, that we do, Sister Mary Catherine, that we do," Father McKenzie said. He quickly turned his gaze back to the boys, and his expression was serious again. "You lads committed a grievous sin in attempting to spy on these innocent girls without their clothing, an unforgiveable sin. Leviticus, Chapter 18, warns us of the danger of gazing upon the nakedness of others. 'Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of a woman and her daughter,' it clearly states. And so God has decreed that to gaze upon the nakedness of all these daughters here at the orphanage is an abomination, and must be punished, as all sin must be punished. And, as our Savior suffered on the cross for our sins, suffered long and hard hours of pain and torture, so you two must also suffer long hours of pain for your sins."

He paused a moment to let his remarks sink in. "That's why I've loaded each BB gun with 200 BBs. They'll actually hold more, but in my judgment 200 is about the right number. I came to that conclusion by estimating, first, that as many as half the shots may go off target and miss your sweet little bums. But, if that's the case, that will still leave 100 nice, sharp stings to your innocent little bums, and that's probably about the right amount for a crime as grievous as this. If it takes each girl 30 seconds to step up and get off a shot, that means that we should easily be done here in slightly under 2 hours, long enough for the lesson to sink in, but short enough that you shouldn't suffer from a dangerous loss of blood in your extremities or in your more private parts. Sister Mary Catherine and I both agreed that 2 hours of this particularly painful punishment ought to be about right for your sins."

Jake went colder. Two hours! Two hours of being shot in the butt! His body wanted to flee, but he was bound so completely all he could do was tense against the leather straps. To his right, Sam let out a low, frightened moan. Father McKenzie looked at him. "Steady, lad," he said. "We haven't even begun yet. There will be ample time for you to bawl like a babe later." He rested the stock of the BB gun on his foot, the barrel pointing toward the sky, and looked back at Jake. "You boys will suffer, make no mistake about it. As I've noted, a flying BB striking bare skin from about 20 feet away inflicts a sting very similar to that of the sting of a bee, and although the skin isn't penetrated as it is with a bee's stinger, and there isn't any venom being inserted under the skin, each one will raise a very painful welt. And if any of the girls strike any of your more delicate parts, the pain will be intense. In particular, shots that hit you red little bull's eyes will be very painful indeed, and so will those hitting that nice little leather bag I've bound around your more delicate parts. And the sites of your four recent shots will be especially tender, especially the one just above your delicate boy parts. Like our Savior did on the cross, you will cry and call to the heavens. But like our Savior, God will answer you - he will hear your suffering, and he will heal you of the grievous sin of lust once you've suffered enough. But make no mistake about it, before you are healed, you will have to suffer - after all, God made his own son suffer to heal all of us of sin, and he treats us all as if we were his own sons. And I'm sure these girls will do their part to make sure that your suffering is everything you deserve."

"I'll say we will!" a voice called from behind Jake's upturned, bare rump. "I'm hitting him right where it hurts boys the most!"

"Me too!" another girl shouted, from behind Sam.

"I'm aiming right in the center of his you-know-what!" another girl called. "I'm going to make it go right up in him, where the sun don't shine!"

"Enough, girls," Sister Mary Catherine commanded. "You will all get your chances to let them know how you felt about being spied upon." Father McKenzie had walked out of sight behind Jake by this point. "Now Listen as the dear Father explains how to use your rifles, especially how to aim properly."

There followed a detailed discussion of how to cock a BB gun, how to line up the sights to aim it, and how to hold it steady and gently squeeze the trigger rather than yanking on it. Jake and Sam trembled quietly as they waited. Girls were going to shoot at their butts! 200 times! At their butts, at their balls, at their exposed, red painted butt holes! Oh, please miss! Please, please miss! Jake thought fervently to himself, over and over. Please, God. Make them miss! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to be bad - I just wanted to see - please, make them miss!

"Okay, first up," Father McKenzie said. "Take careful aim, and fire at will."

"I thought they were named Jacob and Samuel," a girl said, causing laughter that quickly was shushed by Sister Mary Catherine. There was a pause. Jake tried to clench his butt, but although he could stiffen the muscles, he was tied down too tightly to close his butt and protect either his tightly wrapped balls or his openly exposed butt hole. Sam began to whimper, a low, animal noise that just heightened Jake's fear.

There was a soft "whump" noise, almost simultaneous with a soft "plunk" sound as the BB aimed at Jake bounced off the leg of the platform holding him. Seconds later came a second soft whump, but Jake didn't hear the plunk. Instead, he heard Sam let out a startled little gasp. "Owww!" he squealed in shock from Jake's left. "Owwwie, owwwie, owwwww!" he squealed, his voice trailing off into a strangled little moan. Had Jake been able to see Sam's face, he'd have been more frightened, as Sam's lip quivered and hurt radiated from his wide eyes.

"Got him right on the right cheek!" the girl behind Sam chortled. "You could see it hit, and bounce off, and everything! Look, it's made a little red spot!"

Jake turned his head to look at Sam, who had quieted down to soft whimpering. Behind him, there was the mechanical click-clack of the BB gun being cocked, then an identical sound from over behind Sam. Jake tensed, sure that he'd be hit this time, and biting his lip so as not to call out in the embarrassing way Sam had.

Time seemed to move interminably. But then there was the "whump" sound again, and Sam almost simultaneously jerked against his restraints and shrieked again. "Owwwiiiieeee!" he squalled, longer and louder this time. "Owwwwiiiieee! Owwwiiieeee! Oww! Oww! Oww!" The girl behind Sam chuckled loudly. "Almost got the sack," she said. "Did you guys see? It hit his thigh right next to it." Belatedly, Jake realized that buried in Sam's reaction there'd been a second whump, the BB from the gun aimed at him apparently missing him entirely.

He sighed with relief. Two shots down. Only.... Oh, God. 198 to go? The wouldn't all miss! They wouldn't even mostly miss! The girls behind Sam had already hit him twice, and Sam was still whimpering loudly in the aftermath of the second shot to hit him. How bad did it hurt, Jake wondered. As bad as the shots they'd gotten? He could still feel all four of his, especially the one that felt like a tunnel under the skin between his butt hole and balls.

White hot pain blossomed just inside his right butt cheek, just about 3 inches above and to the right of his butt hole, and he squeaked before biting his lip. He was vaguely aware that the BB had hit his right cheek and then bounced across to the left side of his crack, its energy spent, before falling directly between his legs and rolling to a stop there. The spot it had hit did indeed feel like a bee had struck there, the pain sharp, localized, and intense. He managed to keep from calling out by biting his lip, but just barely. Behind him he was faintly aware of girl's cheering the shot, but he was mostly focused on the pain, which didn't ebb quickly but built into a throbbing little nub of discomfort instead. How had Sam stood it? He glanced to the side at Sam, who was staring at the platform ahead of him, whimpering again, apparently having been missed this time. Too soon, the rifles could be heard being cocked again, and without warning and almost immediately, it seemed, a second stab of pain bit into his left buttock, just about where it joined his thigh. He tensed, tried to clench his buns, and gasped as the pain rose as before and then stayed there rather than falling, a throbbing little nob where the BB had struck adding its chorus to the one on his right cheek. This was worse than being spanked - the pain wasn't spread out across your butt - it concentrated on one little, tiny place, like the pain of an entire giant hand striking his butt had been concentrated in a space the size of a BB. He was still clenching when the rifles click-clacked again, and he almost peed into the bag on his genitals in fright, barely able to hold even the small bladder contents he'd produced since he'd left the sample for the priest. But both shots, the one aimed at his butt and the one aimed at Sam, missed this time.

Jake wanted to relax, but he couldn't relax. Because immediately the rifles clacked as they were cocked, his quite a ways before Sam's this time. He felt the fire in his bottom before he heard the soft "whump." Right between his legs, almost half way between balls and butt hole, a bead of intense, white-hot pain bloomed and he squealed, unable to control it, his buns involuntarily trying to squeeze, his butt become rock hard with the force of it, but being unable to close. He couldn't get his breath as the entire track of the shot under his skin in that delicate place blazed with unbearable pain. He shuddered, he shook, and his buttocks rippled with muscle tremors as he gasped. It hurt so bad! How was he going to be able to stand it? What if the next one hit his balls, or went in his butt hole!

But it didn't. In fact, the next three shots missed, and the fourth one skidded across the top of his left bun, leaving a faint streak of fire but largely spending its energy on the barn in front of him. Sam, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky.

Because at the same time that the shot was grazing Jake's buttock with much less effect, Sam became the first to be hit on the thin leather sack that was barely protecting his vulnerable balls. It was his right ball that got hit, actually, but the shot hit it almost square on, right in the center of the marble-sized, oblong orb. Sam bucked, every muscle in his body tensing. Then he screamed. Jake twisted his head to look with horror at Sam as he gasped and screamed again, this time semi-coherently. "My balls!" he wailed "They got my balls! Oh, God, it hurts!"

Father McKenzie, raising his voice to a shout to be heard over Sam's squealing, intoned in a sonorous voice, "See, my daughters! See how he calls to God, just as our Savior called to God! In the words of the Bible, he called to the heavens, 'My God, My God, Why hast thou forsaken me!' Just as this boy calls out! As he'll call out many more times before we are done."

The whole group paused then, for several long moments, listening to Sam's screams die to low moans. "Let us continue," Father McKenzie said. Jake's heart was dancing in his chest. Sam's agony was painful enough, but that fact that he was just as vulnerable had him petrified with fear. He didn't want to be hit in the balls. Please, God, he begged in his head. Please don't let them hit me in the balls like they did Sam.

Years later, Jake would remember this moment, as an older teen. "I wish I didn't have to work this afternoon," he would say. And the old famer he would be working for at that time would stop and mop his brow with a handkerchief, and say, "Be careful what you wish for, lad - you may get it." The old farmer would go on to explain that there were lots of ways Jake could have his wish granted that would be worse than the work he faced - accidentally cutting off his leg, for example. And that maybe what you wished for wasn't the best thing for you.

Jake would think of this particular moment in his life then, and nod his head in comprehension, because of what happened next. The guns behind Jake and Sam cocked, Sam's first, and the girl behind Sam shot and hit Sam squarely in the center of the right bun, a sharp sting that made him yelp anew. And Jake kept whispering to himself, "not in the balls, not in the balls." And he got his wish. Because the very next shot hit him right in the center of the tight, irritated slit of his swollen anus.

There was an unbearable sting, felt right in the center of his anal muscle, evenly on both sides of the narrow slit. Then a streak of fire slashing into his rectum as the intruder burrowed into the tense muscle and was brought to a stop about half an inch inside of that tight, warm place. He felt the BB going in like it was in slow motion, and it felt about as big as a marble back there, like a round rock had been shoved violently into his butt hole. His body froze, stock still, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't even move for a moment, just huddled over the stinging line that had slashed into him. Then he gasped a shuddering breath, and emitted a series of high pitched squeals.

"Got the little pervert right in the eye," a girl shouted triumphantly behind him. "Did you see it? It went right in! Right in the eye."

"Did not," another girl argued back. "I saw it - it bounced off."

"No it didn't," the girl insisted. "It went right in! I saw it!"

"Girls! There is no need for shouting!" Sister Mary Catherine shouted. Jake's shrill shrieks were calming down now as the burn inside him subsided somewhat. He could still feel the BB inside him, feeling almost as big as a bowling ball, surrounded by violated, still stinging tissue. Meanwhile, this new violation throbbed with his racing heart, and the sites of his shots and the new welts left by the other BBs throbbed with it. He bit his lip, embarrassed at his girlish shrieking.

"I can resolve this easily, Sister," Father McKenzie said genially. "If you girls would cease fire for a moment and put down the rifles." Jake, still moaning from the rude, abrupt invasion of his private parts, didn't hear the priest approach, and thus was startled to silence when a rough hand suddenly gripped his left buttock. A finger that felt as big as a sausage suddenly invaded his tight, swollen anus, reawakening the burn of the BB's entrance, plunging into him deeply. Then it hooked, stretching his rectum unbearably, and pulled out while the girls giggled and Jake gasped.

"Gosh, he's sticking his finger right it!" a girl exclaimed, but by then the finger was out again, holding the BB aloft for the girls to see between thumb and forefinger.

"A clear bull's eye," the priest intoned. He must have noticed the girls' expressions at what his finger had done, because he added, "Both these boys have been thoroughly cleansed back there by the good sister herself. That particular orifice is cleaner than their mouths right now, I'd wager. But cleanliness is always best, so I'll be going to wash my hand now." He walked around in front of the still shuddering Jake, dropping the BB on the platform in front of his nose. "A souvenir of the occasion," he intoned as the small, copper-coated ball plinked down directly under Jake's nose, glinting in the sun, looking not at all the worse for wear for having taken a trip into his asshole.

Jake was still fighting the pain of being shot in the butt hole and then unceremoniously invaded by a large finger and having the BB dragged back out of that still protesting butt hole. He moaned and bit his lip, his eyes fixing onto the BB like there were glued there as he tensed against his bonds and tried to clench shut his burning, aching anus, an action which was making his assorted welts from other BB strikes burn intensely as well. How many shots had there been so far, 10? He already couldn't stand it, and he had 20 times that many more to endure! How many would hit him? How many would make new welts on his tender buttocks, and how many would hit him in more vulnerable parts? How many would hit that tender skin between butt hole and scrotum, with the tender line running under the skin just below the ridge running above, the tenderness created by the priest's so lovingly administered shot? How many would hit and penetrate his anus, and how could he stand it if one did? And how many would hit him in the balls, like the one that had hit Sam?

He'd prayed not to be hit in the balls, and God had answered by guiding the shot into his butt hole. Clearly, God was sending a message - Jake and Sam needed to be punished, and punished they would be, no matter what their wishes. He wished, for the thousandth time, that he'd never tried to look at the naked girls. It had seemed so exciting at the time, to finally see the mysterious bodies of girls, see what really made them different from boys. And the worst of it was, he hadn't even seen anything! Only a hint of curved buttock, the curve of a breast. But not that mysterious triangle between their legs, not even the full cleft of a female butt. And he'd wanted to see so badly, had ached with the desire! He still ached with the desire to see a girl full and truly naked, and satisfy his curiosity about what they had down there. But Father McKenzie had said to gaze on the nakedness of girls was sinful, among the worst of the sins. If he'd known....

No, that was silly. Because deep down, despite all the steps of the escalator, he still wanted to see girls naked. He wanted to with a passion that was surprising with its fervor. He wanted to see their smooth more curvaceous figures. He wanted to see the cleft of their butts, hinted at in their clothing but never revealed. He wanted to see their breasts out in the open, not tied down with mysterious female support garments. And most of all, he wanted to see that place where their legs joined, that mysterious place that was so clearly different from what boys had down there. He recognized that he still wanted to see with all his heart, and he was ashamed. No wonder God was punishing him.

The guns click-clacked again, and the interminable wait for the shot came, and the next shots missed both him and Sam. And so did the next pair. The third shot brought a yelp of pain from Sam as his lower left buttock was struck right where it joined his thigh, but Jake again felt nothing as the BB went wide. So maybe God heard his prayer after all! Maybe God felt he'd suffered enough, and all the shots would go wide. He let his hopes rise as the two rifles were cocked again back behind him. Maybe he and Sam had learned their lessons, and the worst was over.

And then the next shot hit Jake square in the center of his tightly bound left testicle.

It helped to have the thin leather covering over his balls, taking up some of the sting. But the full force of the BB still was spent on his delicate little orb, and that force was considerable - worse than being socked in the balls by a bully, worse than a soccer ball striking his privates. It felt like a baseball had slammed into his left ball, and Jake's body immediately felt, well, wrong. Wrongness spread from his tightly bound left ball up through his body, making his stomach sick and his legs weak and paralyzed. Right on the heels of that his poor, abused little orb began throbbing, throbbing with his heart rate, fast and hot. Jake's diaphragm froze for several heart beats and he felt like he was suffocating. Then he was able to gasp, a little squeak that was all his vocal chords, tightened all the way, could emit. He gasped again and again, his stomach trying to rebel and disgorge its contents. His bladder emptied its meager contents directly into the tight leather bag without any volition from him, hot wetness immediately surrounding his genitals, wetting his scrotum and penis with body heat and making the bag swell slightly. He fought down his gorge and gasped over and over, finally moaning as his vocal chords loosened again. As his senses returned, his ball still throbbing unbearably, his rectum echoing the throb, and every welt on his butt complaining as well, he became dimly aware that the girls behind him were laughing, laughing and congratulating the marksmanship of the girl who'd hit him so effectively in his most vulnerable spot. Saying that it served him right to be hit there, in his boy parts, the parts that made him sinful. And, most embarrassingly, he realized he was crying, and moaning, like a pathetic little boy, "no more, no more, no more," over and over again.

Jake felt awful then. Awful from the terrible pain of being shot in the balls, and awful because it was clear that God hated him, hated him and Sam, too, because hadn't Sam also been hit in the balls? They were truly was bad, and being punished for it. God wanted him punished. God had taken his mother, and Sam's, and now they were being punished for their sinfulness. He wondered how many more hits in the balls God had in mind for him, and how many in the butt hole. And whether he'd be able to stand or walk when this was done. Feeling the welts throbbing on his butt, imagining 10 or 15 times that many, he realized that sitting would be out of the question.

Did getting hit in the balls affect whether you could pee? Would peeing hurt after he got hit a few times? Jake didn't know. But dimly, he was aware that he'd already peed himself, so apparently being hit in the balls didn't affect that . His genitals were steaming in his own piss that very minute, hot and wet and slippery feeling inside the leather bag. He blushed with shame that he'd peed himself. He bet Sam hadn't peed himself. He wondered if the girls could see he'd peed himself or not.

And what about pooping? His rectum burned and throbbed. The thought of forcing poop through there was unthinkable. But maybe he wouldn't have to for awhile - they'd been pretty cleaned out yesterday. What had Sister Chastity said about how long it would be until he and Sam had to poop again - was it more than a day? More than two? He dreaded having to sit on a toilet any time soon, pressing his painful welts against the seat, forcing even soft poop past his burning rectum.

A sudden, very painful sting took him by surprise, this one stabbing into his right buttock, almost into his butt crack, glancing off and then rolling, harmless, down his butt crack and landing on the platform between his widely spread legs, a forceful reminder that the punishment was continuing despite any conversation he might be having with God. Across from him, Sam yelped loudly and settled into crying that was loud enough for Jake to hear over his own soft, teary whimpering. It hurt, oh, it hurt!

Twenty shots later, Jake was sporting 11 new welts on his butt, but none in his seriously vulnerable areas, his butt hole, his privates, and the space between them. His butt throbbed all over now, the welts of the BBs merging into one big hurt. He was crying unabashedly now, him and Sam both, no longer caring if the girls thought he was tough or not. His genitals had been spared since the square hit on his left ball, but they felt like they were steaming in his warm piss - the leather bag, closed so tightly at the top, had become a piss steam bath, his balls shriveling and his penis shrinking in the heat. He wondered, incongruously, if his balls and cock were getting all pruny like his fingers did in the bathtub.

The shots bouncing off his butt were just added misery, now - his reaction was to just keep sobbing quietly as new pains blossomed in his butt. It occurred to him off in some other part of his mind, the part that wasn't paying attention to his hurts, that being spanked and paddled had been like this, too - the first few blows were unbearable and you wondered how you were going to stand a whole spanking, but then your butt just became one whole mass of pain, and the added blows were horrible, even unbearable but you were unable to react beyond crying like a toddler.

And then he got hit in the balls again.

Somehow it seemed wrong, because it was his left ball that the BB slammed into this second time. It didn't make sense, the rational part of him said. Why was God punishing only one of his balls, and not the other? That part of him was a very small part, though. The rest of him was shrieking in mindless pain, his body thrashing against the tight bonds that held him, his butt clenching but unable to close in his bent over position, his legs trying to close and protect his sack but unable to do so. He dribbled more pee into the bag enclosing his genitals but didn't notice, snot streamed from this nose as he tensed and squealed hoarsely, and spattered around him on the platform as his head twisted left and right, seeking an escape route. His small hands clenched into claws at the end of his bound arms and he squealed and squealed and squealed again, drowning out the cheering girls behind him congratulating the girl whose aim was so effective, chortling that being shot in the boy parts was what he deserved, and generally approving of his distress. His butt hole clenched over and over again, comically, like a fish mouth nibbling at floating food. It felt like his left ball was pulsing, swelling with each heartbeat, straining at the leather bindings enclosing it and its much more comfortable twin. His stomach was sick and heaved, and he broke off his crying to retch, spitting clear fluid onto the grass in front of him.

Behind him, unheard, Sister Mary Catherine stopped the girl who was about to take the BB gun for her turn. Frowning, signaling the girl behind Sam to stop as well, she picked up a bucket that had been waiting back there all this time. Motoring forward soundlessly, she approached Jake from behind, staying just back of his head and the sprinkles of fluid flying from his mouth and nose as he continued to thrash and twist in pain. She sat the bucket down, reached into it with her hand, and came up with a wet rag. Seizing Jake by the hair, she pulled his head back so he was looking at the barn wall. She immediately began scrubbing his face violently with the rag, which was sopping with cold, almost icy water. Jake's crying stopped immediately as he found himself unable to twist his head away or take a breath. She stooped, still holding his head as she did, dipped the rag into the icy bucket of water again, and straightened again, scrubbing his face with the cold water as Jake gasped and struggled feebly. Finally satisfied that he'd quieted and that his face was free of snot and tears, she stepped back. Jake hoped, for a minute, that she'd apply the icy rag to his butt, where the cold might soothe the now many throbbing little welts and especially the burning spot between butthole and balls, but instead she ran her hand over his buttocks roughly, renewing the burn of each individual spot where BBs had struck. Jake whimpered at the mistreatment.

"Quiet, you impudent brat!" Sister Mary Catherine snapped. "Or I'll move the girls 5 feet closer and give you something to really cry about!" Her hand paused in its caressing of his small butt, then slipped between his legs to poke at the back of the leather sack tied around his genitals. "Father, there seems to be some sort of fluid here," she said disapprovingly. "It's distending the leather."

"Ah, the lad probably lost control of his faculties," Father McKenzie said, approaching. "Can't blame a lad for losing it at a time like this."

"But we can't have that," Sister Mary Catherine said. "Fluid will provide a layer of protection that will absorb the energy of the BBs, thus defeating the purpose of the penance. The girls deserve to know that their efforts are having the necessary effect on these boys."

Jake could have told her with firm conviction that the pee he'd accidentally squirted into the bag firmly enclosing his vulnerable testes hadn't muted the impact of the BB one iota, and that he'd felt every bit of the impact of the second BB, after he'd peed himself, as he did of the first that had hit him in the left ball. But he was still trying to catch his breath without resuming crying and encouraging Sister Mary Catherine to allow the girls to shoot from a closer position.

"I could empty the bag," Father McKenzie suggested. "Just remove it a moment and empty it, then put it back on again."

"You do that, Father," Sister Mary Catherine said. "I'll stand here so that the girls aren't disturbed by the sight of his more disgusting parts." Jake seethed inside as he crouched helpless, feeling Father McKenzie fumbling at the strings circling his scrotum and penis between his widely spread legs and start unwinding them. How were his boy parts disgusting? Or at least, how were they more disgusting that his butt hole, which they could all see as clearly and plainly as could be? Now butt holes (anuses, he mentally corrected himself again), they were disgusting - disgusting things came out of them, and embarrassing noises, and they smelled disgusting, too. But he'd always thought his tight scrotum was kind of neat, the way it would get all wrinkly when it pulled tightly to his body. And his penis was kind of cool - all smooth and soft when it was unaroused, and all stiff and pokey and sensitive to the touch when it was. He'd seen Sam's genitals a lot, too, because they shared a room and a bathroom, and he'd never been disgusted by them, and he didn't think Sam was disgusted by his. But Sam's butt hole, and his own, they were vaguely gross. So how could the sister be disgusted by the one and not the other?

The last of the cords were unwound from his scrotum, and two things happened. One was that his scrotum, which had been trying to pull into his body ever since he'd heard they were going to be shot in the butt with BB guns, was finally able to retract, and it pulled up tight immediately, his penis also shrinking into his body now that it wasn't bound. And full blood flow returned to his genitals, causing an incredibly uncomfortable tingling and burning as it did, and the pain of his twice abused left testicle suddenly intensified three-fold as full feeling returned to his small sack.

Jake gasped, and bit his lip to keep from screaming, shuddering all over. His abused left ball, especially, throbbed with unbearable pain. Sister Mary Catherine began poking him between the legs, prodding this same sore testicle and then the other one, eliciting a little yelp from Jake that he quickly cut off by biting his lip hard.

"Hmmm," she said as he shuddered and tried to keep from calling out so she wouldn't make good on her earlier threat. "No sign of swelling at all - both sides look just the same, don't they Father? Take a look, you're more an expert on these things than I am."

A second, larger hand began palpitating Jake's still throbbing balls. "Indeed they do," Father McKenzie said. "I'm guessing that the leather bag is so thick that the boy hardly felt the shots that hit him there."

No! Jake screamed silently at them. He'd felt them all right, like a kick to the crotch that went all the way to the pit of his stomach. He still felt stomach sick from those particular shots.

"Humm," Father McKenzie mused. "Judging by his reaction, the ties of the bag seem to have been restricting his blood flow and sensation unduly. Indeed, he might have been totally numb down there in short order if we hadn't removed the bag just now."

"Perhaps you tied it too tightly," Sister Mary Catherine said accusingly.

"Well, we did not want it falling off, now did we?" Father McKenzie shot back. "But now it seems we have a problem. It's going to be difficult to get the leather bag back on him, as he seems to have retracted his genitals into his body."

"You simply have to be firm, Father," Sister Mary Catherine replied. "If you dig your fingernails into the body and pull..."

Father McKenzie held up a hand. "Perhaps that's not necessary," he said, as Jake was just registering what the dear sister had suggested doing to his tender balls. "Take a look back here." A rough hand caressed Jake's wrinkled, tightly-pulled up scrotum gently, pausing to tweak the tip of his retracted penis almost lovingly. "He's as smooth as a toddler between his legs. Even his tiny appendage isn't visible from behind. Even if we leave the bag off, there should be nothing to offend your girls' modesty. And the small size of the target really cuts down on the need for protection."

Sister Mary Catherine squinted at Jake's hindquarters, then roughly prodded his sore scrotum. She leaned over, huffing as she did, and eyed his genitals from directly behind, determining whether even a hint of penis was visible. Sighing, she straightened up.

"Well, it seems there's no problem after all," she said briskly. "Pulled into his body like that, his boy parts aren't nearly so offensive - No more so than paintings of cherubs. And with his more disgusting parts pulled up out of sight like this, the girls really can't see anything, especially from where they are. Perhaps we'd best just leave him like this. And if the girls were to hit something delicate, it's no more than he deserves."

"Very well," Father McKenzie said. He frowned at the leather bag in his hand. "This will have to be soaked clean before it can be used again, anyway."

"Just drop it in the bucket," Sister Mary Catherine said. "You can rinse it out later." She picked the bucket up and strode toward Sam.

What? Jake's mind screamed, trying to get a handle on what was going on. They were going to leave his balls and dick uncovered? Just let the girls shoot at them bare? Suddenly he realized that he was naked for the first time, completely, totally naked, with his genitals out in the open, as exposed as his butt and anus had been. Exposed to the full force of the BB guns! He couldn't see his balls, to see just how close to his body they were drawn up, but they felt large as baseballs at that moment, like a huge, pendulous sack hanging in the breeze, the girls eyeing it, just waiting for their turn to shoot.