The Orphanage Boys Chapter 31

The Orphanage Boys Chapter 31
by Chadlad

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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 31: 31st Floor: Displays

The camera angle shifted suddenly to a tall metal can from which several tied bundles of sticks stuck up. The individual sticks were only pencil thick, but each bundle contained a lot of them, so that the tied end of the bundles was somewhat bigger around than the handle of a baseball bat, although the sticks themselves flared out from where they were tied to several inches across, something like the end of a feather duster. The can was sitting off to one side, a bit past the front of the device to which the boy was tied, so that the bundles of sticks in it were right in front of his view, where he couldn't help but see them. A muscular young nun who Jake didn't know approached and selected one tied bundle, pulling it out of the can. The ends had clearly been immersed in liquid—they were dripping as they came out. The ends of the sticks weren't bound—they flared out from the bound handle into multiple tips.

"Salt water," Mother Superior commented from behind them in a voice loud enough to be heard over the clatter of the projector. "Keeps them whippy and supple, and increases the sting when it lands. The sting itself is unimaginable—even boys who have been birched repeatedly can't describe it except to talk about the horrible sting."

With an expert flick, the nun shook most of the water from the tips of the many small, twig-like branches and nodded in satisfaction. She turned, and the camera followed her to the bench, where she first displayed the birch in front of the boy's face. She said something, although it wasn't clear what in the silent film. The boy blinked rapidly, eyeing the collection of sticks like it was a snake about to strike. She then walked around the far side of the boy and took up a position on his left side, facing the camera. The boy lurched as she gently touched the still slightly dripping birch to his bare buttocks. A quick camera cut to his face showed his reaction as the cinch on his balls was yanked by his movement—he grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again to display his rising fear now that his punishment was imminent. The camera shifted to straight on to his buttocks just as the birch was pulled back for the first swing. His smooth, white cheeks were trembling now, quivering with apparent terror. Small rivulets of water from the twigs dribbled down his butt. His balls the far side of the cinch were darker in color than they'd been, probably turning dark red from being trapped in the tight leather strap, but the colorwasn't certain in the black and white film. His butt hole was clenching repeatedly, like it was trying to hide from the doom his buttocks were facing. The camera held there for a few long seconds, then the view shifted to the side camera, just as the nun, who'd had the birch raised high, brought it down swiftly onto the bare, vulnerable, unprotected skin. To the seated boys' joint surprise, it did not land across his entire buttocks, but instead struck only the boy's left buttock, the tips just wrapping around the curve into the cleft between his buns.

The camera shifted to the side view, backing up to show the boy's bodily reaction just as the birch was landing again. The boy lurched, yanking hard on the cinch trapping his balls. His back arched, and his head jerked up, while at the same time, his fingers extended, quivering, in the air on either side where his writs were strapped down. The view shifted to the camera at his face. Time had backed up again, apparently, because the boy was looking down, his eyes wide with apprehension, then suddenly he went taut, his head jerking up, his mouth opening in a silent scream that made it possible to see all the way down his throat, even to that little dangling thing in the back. His eyes went impossibly wide and seemed to bulge, his face rigid with apparent pain. He stayed frozen like that for several long moments, then appeared to inhale, only to open his mouth more widely in a longer scream that the seated boys could almost hear despite the fact it was a silent film. The boy inhaled and screamed silently several more times before the camera cut back to the view straight onto his buttocks, picking up just as the birch was being raised. The camera moved in more tightly, until the boy's buttocks filled the entire screen. As moments past, long moments where the boy continued tensing and pulling hard on the cinch around his balls, small, narrow streaks began appearing on his butt, slowly darkening. Numerous little lines were appearing, mostly along the right curve of his left buttock, where it curved into his open cleft. They darkened rapidly. Most were only half an inch to an inch long, but some were longer. The boy's left buttock also visibly darkened, probably growing pinker after the blow brought blood to the surface of the skin. The right buttock remained creamy white, untouched, except for two spots just at the cleft, where a pair of errant twigs had apparently crossed that divide and cut their tips into the boy's right buttock. Those became a darker color quickly, and one developed what looked like a pinpoint of blood. Jake studied it in growing horror, unable to take his eyes away. Mother Superior, missing nothing, took the opportunity to comment again.

"The pain of the birching is quite severe—it puts spanking and even paddling to shame for sheer sting and continuing burn after the blow. The bruising is less than in paddling, it's true, but the pain is much greater during the experience itself. Then there are the cuts. The small twigs often cut the flesh, and the boy may even bleed a bit—it's all part of the lesson."

The nun administering the birching appeared in no hurry—she'd raised the birch but kept it high, letting the boy exhaust himself of his initial reaction. The camera moved back to his face, where his screams were becoming less prolonged and his tensing was diminishing in strength. After several more open-mouthed calls of distress, the boy appeared to settle down, shivering violently, panting for breath and squirming, appearing to be trying to come to terms with what apparently was a horrific sting in his backside. His eyes were darting about wildly, like an animal seeking escape. But Jake, who felt the most profound pity for him, knew that there was no escape, not for a boy with hands and feet tied and balls cinched to a tight leather cord. He hunched over the bench, finally, panting open-mouthed, his face a ghostly white. The camera cut back to the side view again. In moments, the nun snapped her arm and brought the birch crashing down again.

This time it hit the boy lower on his left buttock, overlapping his upper thigh. The boy's reaction was much the same as before, although this time the camera stayed on his backside. His buttocks tensed, and his ball sack was stretched painfully between his open legs, his butt hole clenched tightly into itself, and he trembled all over as he arched his back, probably screaming at the top of his lungs again. His dangling penis tip jiggled on the other side of his stretched balls. As the birch was lifted away again, moisture from the tips dripped down his buttocks, and the tiny dark lines began appearing, overlapping the lines in the middle of his buttock from the previous blow, and creating new marks trailing down his cleft to his thighs. Several could be seen appearing out of the white skin between the boy's legs—in some places they appeared to be rising right out of his skin, like embossed little ridges. They criss-crossed his left buttock, mostly on the inner edge near the cleft, while the rest of the smooth globe showed darker hues than the outside, which appeared relatively untouched.

Mother Superior appeared to be reading Jake's mind. "The birch causes the most pain where the tips of each twig strike. In order to enhance the effect and the value of the experience for the boy, it is necessary to birch each buttock individually, from first one side and then the other. The overlapping effects are apparently quite pronounced, perhaps even approaching the glorious agony that our Lord suffered on the cross."

The birch slashed forward again in the film. Jake could almost hear the sound it must make whistling through the air, landing with what was probably a sort of wet smacking sound on the boy in the film's unprotected butt. The boy lurched again, even bound tightly, and every muscle in his body contracted, his buns tensing tightly, his back arching against the leather straps. The boy's balls stretched alarmingly as he pulled on the cinch, the twin orbs bulging against the restraining strap. Without warning, the dangling penis began to dribble, pee draining out of the distressed boy, not in a boy' proud, powerful stream, but weakly, like the dribbling of some sort of injured animal. That's what the boy in the film was, Jake realized. A trapped, injured animal, tortured and unable to escape. It landed harmlessly in the grass under the wooden birching platform. Jake wondered if that's why the birching of the boy was being done outside. (He didn't even think about the fact that the light was better outside for filming.)

The boy received 6 blows on the inside of his left buttock before the nun wielding the birch moved her attentions to his right buttock. Here the ends of the twigs wrapped around the outside of the boy's buttock, leaving the inner cleft untouched. The boy continued to jerk and scream silently with each blow. The camera focused during one of those blows quite closely on the boy's cinched balls, so that his tightly bound sack filled the screen, and the watching boys could see how it stretched when the boy was struck, the balls bulging the skin tightly, the leather digging cruelly into his sack, the skin joining it to his crotch stretching thinly and clearly painfully. Jake tried not to think how much the boy's butt must hurt with each blow for him to risk yanking his balls that hard in response.

After 12 blows, there was a pause, as the nun shifted to the boy's other side. During this time, the camera went to the boy's face, a close-up of his agonized expression as he coped with the many cuts of the twigs on his beaten bottom, and the probably horrific realization that he still had just as many blows to endure from the other side. An older nun briskly washed the boy's face roughly with what appeared to be cold water, clearing the free-running snot from below his nose where it had covered his upper lip and was dripping down his chin. The boy's eyes were haunted, pleading, and full of pain. He hung his head after the nun released it from being scrubbed, panting open-mouthed, awaiting his fate. The camera view abruptly shifted to the other side of the boy. From this view, the barn where Jake and Sam and Dinky had been washed was visible in the distance, enabling them to determine the boy had been filmed on the meadow beyond. Nobody was visible anywhere in the scene beyond, only the younger nun with the strong arms who held the birch. It suddenly dawned on Jake that this was a different birch from before—the ties on the handle were different in appearance, and the twigs were longer and tighter than the others had been after being applied to the film-boy's bare posterior 12 times. The nun raised her arm and began again, the boy arching his back and bucking and shaking like before, his balls stretching what seemed impossibly far from his body as he tensed. Now it was the inside of the boy's right buttock that was receiving the cuts of the sharp tips of the birch twigs. As the birch rose from the second blow to the right buttock, Jake realized with a sort of fascinated horror that this blow had wrapped so far in that several branch tips had struck the boy square on the wrinkles of his butt hole, small lines now marring the tight wrinkles around the center furrow. The hole itself twitched, spasmed, and then watery dark liquid welled from the slit and gushed down the back of his balls, partially coating them and then dripping off the bottom of his sack to land on the ground below. Two more spasms followed with more dark liquid welling out and being ejected, then the hole twitched several times and tightened. There was a long pause, then another nun stepped forward with a bucket, calmly pouring water down the kid's butt crack, washing the dark mess away. A cloth was produced and his butt crack and balls were roughly scrubbed, while the camera shifted to the one on his face, showing his agony at having his tortured butthole scrubbed. The view shifted to the rear camera again, the boy's butt and balls as well as the leather cinch clean once again, and the birching resumed.

Behind the boys, Mother Superior spoke. "You boys are so near incontinence all the time that accidents like that are common during birchings. It's just another example of how disgusting and animal like all you boys are. We don't let your failings interrupt the lesson."

The birch had been raised, meanwhile, and struck again, continuing until the right buttock had received its 6 blows. Now the nun moved to the left buttock, and the camera moved to the boy's face. He was hardly recognizable as a human being. His face was a contorted mask of pain, snot flowing freely over his lip and off his chin, his eyes puffy and swollen and apparently unseeing, his mouth gaping as he gasped and wailed silently at the camera. The camera moved back to the close-up of his tightly cinched balls. Surprisingly, the leather strap was actually pulling downward, now gripping just above the middle of the boy's balls as he had apparently jerked so hard that his balls had pulled partially into the leather circle, his balls actually squeezed in the middle like a girdle on a fat woman. As they watched, the next blow fell and the boy jerked violently. The leather cinch squeezed the boys' balls visibly as they slid through, then the cinch fell to the ground and the boy's balls were free.

Pulling his balls out of the cinched leather circlet that had held them appeared to have been a very painful thing indeed, because the boy's butt clenched and his body rose to the limits of his ability against his remaining bonds. His ball sack contracted tightly against his body, now that it was longer pulled obscenely down by the strap, making a plump ball against his crotch. The boy's penis, soft but still substantial, jiggled a violent dance the other side of the now more compact scrotum, revealing itself to be quite long and thick. The sack was very dark in color and it shriveled visibly as the boy shivered in reaction to the apparent pain of pulling his balls loose or the pain of his birching, or both. The boy tensed all over for some time before settling, his chest heaving as he dealt with what must have been intense pain in his balls.

The nun who'd been assisting squatted on the far side of the boy. The camera zoomed in as she picked up the strap and readied it, then used her other hand to grip the boy's balls and begin forcing them to the base of the tightly wrinkled scrotum. The view shifted to the boy's face, where he was shaking his head back and forth violently. All three boys realized that, despite the lack of sound, the boy was screaming "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" over and over again. The view moved back to the boy's crotch, and all three watching boys winced as the boy's balls, bigger than their own, were forced to the very bottom of his sack, his sack was stretched, and the leather strap was fastened around it more tightly than before, so that his balls bulged under the narrow waist of the cinch. Then she stepped back and nodded to the nun with the birch as the view shifted to the long view again. Editing wasn't as good here as before, as the boys had a quick glimpse of the nun with the rear camera scrambling out of the view as the scene expanded.

The rest of the birching of the boy's butt was almost anticlimactic. The final blows were given, the boy could be seen screaming a before, and then the camera focused tightly on his posterior. The boy's butt was ruined, that was the only way to describe it. Small dark lines criss-crossed all down both sides of the inside of his crack and down the outsides of his buns, but they also appeared across the sit-spots and the rest of the round, prominent globes. The skin between his legs, between balls and butt hole, also had not been spared, with small lines there attesting to the reach of the twig ends. Beads of blood slowly oozed from several of the cuts, including one right by the tight slit of the boy's rather prominent butt hole and quite a few down his crack and along the edges of his butt. A bead of blood on the upper part of his scrotum also attested to reach of the longer twigs. The camera shifted to the boy's face and let the watching boys view his open crying for awhile, then showed his hands, still extended into claws, and his tensed thighs, his gasping chest, and his shuddering back before returning to his trembling, bleeding butt. A nun stepped forward with a dripping cloth and began wiping the boy's buns. The camera moved back to the boy's face, showing him engaged in renewed screaming, his body tensing, his eyes bugging.

"Salt water," Mother Superior said loudly over the clatter of the projector. "As salty as we can make it. It massively increases the sting, helping drive the lesson home, and it helps protect against infection." The film shifted back to the boy's face, showing his bulging eyes, and his silent screams.

The screen suddenly went black, and the projector was shut off, bathing the room in silence. Jake realized he was tensing every muscle in his body, and that Sam, next to him, was just as tense. He forced himself to breathe more slowly and tried to make his muscles unclench. That had been the most terrible thing he'd ever seen, far worse than the spankings and paddlings he and the other boys had received, far worse than any of the stuff that had happened. He knew how bad being spanked and paddled and whipped stung. And the boy in the film was a big boy, with man-sized genitals. To react as he did-—how much more must a birching hurt? We they going to be birched? Next to him, Sam cleared his throat.

"Ma'am," he ventured tentatively. "Um, Sister?"

"Yes, young man?" Mother Superior replied.

"What...What did he do? I mean..that had to hurt a lot! What did he do?" Sam asked in a small, trembling voice."

"Not anything that much different from what you have done, or you, or young Dennis here," Mother Superior replied. "His crime was lust, just like the three of you. The only difference, the only reason you three aren't taking your turns on the birching platform right now, is that he went slightly farther with his lust than you three have done, not just looking on the nakedness of innocent females, as you two did, or engaging in unnatural congress with animals and other males, as you are guilty of, young Dennis, but forcing his lust upon an innocent, unwilling, sweet young girl here at the orphanage. And this punishment was only one of several he endured. Pay heed, and learn—the punishments you boys are scheduled for tonight and in days to come will be severe, as they must be, but if we do not get your sincere and full cooperation during those punishments, you can receive the punishments this boy received instead of, or in addition to what you shall receive. We have other films of the other lessons this boy learned, as well, lessons that were given on his offending organs, and we will show them to you if we decide you need a reminder of the need for cooperation."

She glared at the three boys, who tried not to look at her. "In a few moments, you three will be led to the dining hall, where you will stand on the front platform, facing the wall, and wait until it is time for your punishments. The other children will be fed, and the youngest ones and the boys will be sent back to the dorms, leaving only the 10 to 14-year-old girls. At that point, your punishment will be handed over to a group of girls who have earned our trust, and my Sisters will all withdraw leaving them in charge of you. We feel that the lesson will be more effective and long-lasting if administered by your peers without our intervention. I realize, of course, that age-wise, these girls are not your peers, Dennis. They're younger than you. But they're certainly your peers in physical development, given your rather meager endowments, and they're much more mature in behavior. You all three will obey the girls in charge after we leave and do everything they order immediately and without question. If any one of you does not, the girls will fetch Sister Magdalene, Sister Mary Catherine, and me, and you will all three will be taken outside and be birched immediately much as young Marvin was in the film I just showed you. Yes, I said all three of you will be birched, if even one of you disobeys, so I suggest you encourage each other to cooperate as much as possible. If we are roused from our studies this evening to tend to you, you will not like the results." She glared at all three boys in turn, sending cold chills down each boy's spine.

"Are we clear?" she asked, arching her eyebrow eerily like Jake's mother used to be able to do. Jake nodded, and the other two boys nodded solemnly beside her. "Good," she said. "Come with me. We shall go to the dining hall now. You will not be eating. I doubt if you're hungry, anyway. You probably fear what is to come. Having talked the evening's plans over with the girls in charge, let me tell you that you should fear what is to come. You can think about that while you stand and face the wall in the dining hall."

"Ma'am? Mother Superior?" Dinky ventured as they stood up. "Will we be receiving trousers to wear before we go in?" He looked with distaste at the too-small, tight briefs he and the other boys were wearing, briefs that were crawling into his butt crack and showed the outer edges of his buttocks, and that clearly outlined his small package, so clearly outlined it that it was obvious that his penis was pressed slightly to the left, and his balls were pulled tight with the right one slightly lower than the left.

Mother Superior looked the three of them up and down. "You're dressed perfectly for the evening," she said. "I applaud dear Magdalene's choice of garments for you. Now let's move along. Step lively, boys. I'm sure they're waiting for you so they can start the meal."

It seemed to take no time at all for the barefoot, bare-legged boys to pad behind the rapidly moving old woman to the dining hall. As they entered and started up the aisle among the tables, voices were suddenly raised in shouts. "There they are!" a girl shouted, and several voices echoed similar statements. The din in the room suddenly diminished markedly, and all eyes in the room turned to follow them to the front, giggles and loud guffaws exploding all around them as their tight briefs and partially exposed buttocks were taken in.

All three boys blushed red as they were led to the front of the room and onto the small front platform that the nuns used for announcements. There they were arranged in a row against the wall, their hand clasped behind their heads, their noses against the hard plaster. Jake was acutely aware of all the eyes on him, and of his penis brushing the wall as he swayed. He prayed he wouldn't get a stiffy while standing there in the tight underwear, and his penis, traitor that it was, twitched with interest at the thought. He heard Mother Superior call for silence, and the room hushed obediently.

"These three boys are all guilty of uncontrolled lust," Mother Superior announced. "As all of you know, lust is one of the seven deadly sins. As you older girls, those 10-14, were the object of that lust, you will stay after dinner and observe their punishments tonight for that sin. The rest of you will return to the dorms for mandatory Bible study and then an early bedtime." There was a groan, mostly from the boys, who enjoyed their free play after dinner immensely.

"That's not fair," one of the boys burst out.

"Life isn't fair," Mother Superior said. "But all of you boys are guilty of lust in your hearts. I can see it and God can see it. None of you are without sin. You shall study scripture tonight as a reminder of that. If you're not happy about it, you can take it up with these boys at a later date, or on Challenge Day."

"Oh, we will," another boyish voice called. Several other boys shouted agreement.

"Silence!" Mother Superior commanded. "We will now proceed with the meal as usual. We have a special treat for all of you tonight—I understand that we're having deep-fried oysters." Applause greeted this announcement. Jake's stomach turned. He wondered if they'd be so enthusiastic if they knew, as he and Sam now did, the source of those "oysters." A vision of the cream-colored orbs being removed from the boar pigs and dropped, dripping slime, into the buckets returned to him, and he shuddered. Next to him, he felt Sam shudder as well. Jake felt extremely uncomfortable as the din in the dining room resumed. The odor of fried food smelled good, and actually tempted him despite what the food actually was, and his stomach growled. His butt felt very exposed. He wondered if, like Sam and Dennis, half of it was exposed to the passing children on their way to fill their dinner trays. At least his privates were covered. Sort of.

Dinner seemed to take forever to the standing boys. They shifted from one foot to the other, their legs tiring quickly and their feet aching. Jake's thoughts kept returning to the boy being birched and his agony as the birch twigs landed, the beads of blood, and especially his cinched, stretched balls yanking through the tight leather strap, breaking free in what must have been great pain only to be tied more tightly. He and Sam had seen a movie, once, in which the hero was about to be hanged. But the rope had been treated with acid by the heroine, and when the trap door sprung, the rope had broken and the hero had fallen through and then fled with the heroine on horses she'd had waiting. The crowd at the hanging hadn't pursued them, with one of the characters commenting that the law said if a hanging failed that the person had to go free, anyway. Jake thought about that and about the boy in the film. His balls had gotten free of the noose surrounding them too. But the nuns didn't let him go free, they merely but the noose on more tightly, ignoring the agony the freedom of his balls must have suffered squeezing through that small opening in the tight strap. Had they been in the movie, he was sure, they would have merely recaptured the man and hanged him again, this time with a bigger rope.

"Jake?" Sam hissed at him, urgently. Jake's eyes flicked to the side, where he could see Sam out of the corner of his eyes.

"Shhh!" Dinky hissed. "She said no talking! They'll birch us!"

"But...Jake...I gotta pee!" Sam whispered, barely loud enough for Jake to hear. "And I got—I got..You know."

Jake considered. "Try not to think about it," he whispered back. His eyes flicked down. The cause of Sam's distress was obvious—he had a stiffy and an in the too-small underpants he was being forced to wear it stuck straight out, like a tent, the tip touching the plaster wall.

"But I gotta pee bad!" Sam hissed urgently.

"You gotta hold it!" Jake hissed back. "Think of something else!"

"Are you boys talking?" a sister whose voice they didn't immediately recognized said from behind them.

"Uh, no ma'am," Dinky said loudly to the wall. "We were just saying some 'Our Fathers as penance for our sins."

"Oh. Very well then," the voice said. "You should probably do some 'Hail Marys too." The boys nodded and resumed staring at the wall. Jake actually did say some Hail Marys, and Sam did so as well, muttering under his breath, his eyes shut. Dennis stared silently at the wall. The Hail Marys made Jake feel better, but just a little bit.

After what seemed like forever, the boys could hear the cleanup starting—trays clattering as they were scraped and stacked for washing, children chattering more loudly as they finished eating. Conversation became louder, and noises of utensils less frequent. Finally, Mother Superior spoke again. "All right. You boys and younger girls, back to the dorms by groups. Your dorm leader will have your Bible study assignments, and we're having lights out at 8 tonight rather than 9:30 for the boys so that you may contemplate the wages of sin that your fellow boys have brought on to you. You younger girls will be allowed your usual bedtimes. You older girls, move the tables in front back and arrange your chairs in rows near the platform."

There was a shuffling of chairs and resumed noise of conversation, then the sound of tables and chairs being moved as the noise level diminished with many of the children leaving. Finally, the noise settled down again to murmured conversation and shuffling. Jake's tension increased steadily. Whatever punishment they were facing was imminent. They heard Mother Superior climb the platform behind them. A hush fell as she cleared her throat. "We shall now begin," she announced. "These three boys are guilty of uncontrolled lust which has caused them to engage in unacceptable but typically male behaviors that must be severely punished. These two on the left," she said, apparently indicating Jake and Sam, "have personally violated the privacy of many of you sitting here. They were caught watching you in the shower, trying to view your naked bodies to satisfy their lustful urges." A murmur of disapproval rose in the crowd behind them. Mother Superior went on. "This third boy engaged in bestiality and in unnatural forced congress with one of these boys, an act so disgusting that it is best not contemplated and certainly not to be described in detail. Although he didn't violate the privacy and innocence of any of you girls, if he continues on this course it is only a matter of time until he does." There was a second murmur of disapproval from the girls gathered behind him. Mother Superior let it rise and then cleared her throat again.

"I have noted a tendency among many of you girls to see boys in an unnatural, romantic light rather than how they really are. I, personally, blame dime novels and movies for this distressing trend. But I've decided we must nip these romantic views in the bud. So I have asked a trio of older girls, girls who have experienced the worst that males can do, girls who have been the victims of the sin of lust in males, to conduct a seminar tonight on just how disgusting boys really are. These three boys will be used by them to illustrate that point. They have been ordered to obey the girls in charge completely this evening on pain of being publically birched. Mary, Margaret, and Myrtle will now take over and my Sisters and I will retire to religious contemplation and the care of the other children for the evening. We do this for three reasons. First, because I have heard what they plan to show you and approve of it. Second, because, although I approve of what these girls plan, most of it is not something I or my sisters would care to witness. Third, and most important, I trust these girls completely to do only what is Godly and what will lead the rest of you down a Godly path. So with that, I will part. Learn from tonight's lesson, girls. And you three boys—obey, and learn as well. Obey completely, thoroughly, and quickly. You will be immediately birched in front of these girls if we are called back because you're not cooperating, and your punishments tomorrow will also hinge on the report the girls give me after this is over tonight. Girls, it is now 7 PM. You have until 9 PM, and will be undisturbed until then. Carry on with your plans." The room was silently hushed as her prim footsteps, punctuated by the tap of her cane, receded to the back of the hall, then the door could be heard slamming behind her. An expectant hush filled the room behind the uncomfortable trio in front.

Fear began rising in Jake. He wished he didn't have his back turned, so he could see these girls and get some idea of how they really felt about the boys. But he also was glad he had his back turned, so his pubic mound wasn't visible to them. He glanced sideways—Sam still had a prominent tent in his underpants and Jake felt sympathy for him at the moment. But mostly, he felt fear for himself. There were no nuns there—what if the girls got out of control? What humiliations were they facing now?