Punishment School Chapter 2 by The Pro from Dover bigtx1n@hotmail.com copyright 1996 by The Pro from Dover, all rights reserved "The following is a work of erotic fiction and does not represent, in any way, any actual events. Furthermore, the author would not condone or participate in any such activity in actuality." Needless to say after that I certainly didn't want it again. But just as certainly, everyone else wanted to see me get it again. And I did. A few weeks past. I behaved and no incidents occured. I thought it was over. I was wrong. It happened after lunch. In the courtyard. It was crowded with students. Suddenly, right next to me, a girl SCREECHED. "Somebody pulled my hair!" "It was the new kid," a boy's voice spoke out. Everyone turned and looked at me. A chorus went up. "That's right." "The new kid did it." "David did it." Before I could react at all, Sister Donald Marie was coming through the crowd of students. Right over to me. "What's going on here?" "David pulled my hair. Hard," the little girl wined. "But I didn't," I tried to protest. "I... "Don't make it worse by lying," Sister cut me off. "Ofcourse it was you. It's the punishment room for you and right now." She grabbed my ear and pulled me away. Through the grinning, laughing, pointing students. Straight to the Student Punishment Room door. She unlocked it. Opened it. Pushed me inside. Nothing had changed inside. I stood in the middle. Knowing what was coming would be worse than what I got before. As Sister closed the door, I could see the other students crowding right up next to it. Where they could listen to my punishment. The thought started my humiliation. Sister locked the door. "Never have I had a student misbehave so soon after receiving a punishment from me. Never. It's a complete affront to me. A challenge to my authority. You're going regret that, aren't you?" "Yes, Sister," I agreed. Knowing now that there was nothing I could do or say to avoid these punishments. I'd just have to survive them. Somehow. "Oh yes, indeed." She pulled the chair into the center of the room. Sat down. Arranged her skirt. "Get over here. Right in front of me." I did. "Remove every stitch of your clothing. Now! Starting with your shoes." And that's where I started, shaking with dread at the thought. My shoes and socks came off. "Place them neatly over there." My shirt followed. Then my pants. Button, belt, zipper. Down to my ankles then off. Leaving me standing there in my underwear. I hesitated. "Get them off!" she barked. I put my fingers under the elastic band. Pulled my shorts down. Stepped out of them. Laid them with the rest. Stood up. "Hands at your side." So that I was completely naked in front of her. My penis, adolescent manhood, exposed to her view. The humiliation was profound. "Over my knee." I bent over. Across her lap. Hands on the floor. Legs straight out. The course fabric of her habit rubbing against my penis. She got me positioned. Then went to it. Same as before. Hard. Steady. Until my butt was again a red, burning mess. "Up." I stood up, again exposing my penis. Which, to my horror, had grown from the stimulation. Instinctively, I tried to cover it. "Hands at your side!" she roared. "That's two more strokes of the strap for disobedience. So, you enjoyed your punishment, did you?" "No, Sister." "I can see otherwise. I'm not surprised. The worse the boy the more likely he'll get sexually excited by his punishment. We'll just have to chastise you all the more for it. Last time you took the strap against the wall. Did no good. So now you get it on the table. Lay on top of it. Face down. "Oh, no," I thought but dare not speak it as I climbed up onto the long table. Laid myself out on it, my naked flesh feeling the soft felt. "Hands above your head. Grip the edge of the table. Legs spread." Leaving me completely at the mercy of the strap. Which Sister took from the cabinet. Showed to me as she came to the head of the table."Seven strokes it was last time. Did no good. So it's ten plus the two extra for disobedience. How many alltogether?" "Twelve, Sister," I sobbed. She stepped out of my view. To the side of the table. Limbered her arm. Found her target - my quivering ass - and... SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!!!! She blistered my butt. Without stopping. The hard table holding firm under me, making the punishment more painful than before. I cried out louder with each stroke, knowing that the students outside the door were getting an earful, but unable to stop myself. At the end I just laid there, sniffling. Quivering. Naked ass burning. Welted. She left me there. "It is plainly obvious to me," she lectured, "that you are not going to be saved by the usual discipline. Being the bastard son of a sinful mother has left you soiled deeply. Unusually harsh methods will be needed to cleanse you. Here our punishments are progressive. Getting worse for each misstep. In a case such as yours, though, we won't wait for you to misstep. You will be punished with each progression, one a week, for the next six weeks. Beginning this Monday, and every Monday thereafter, in your home room and then in here. Is that understood?" "Yes, Sister." My mind confused with suffering. What had, what I was - laying face down and naked while she lectured me - and what was going to happen. "Get up and dress yourself." I quickly did. Then stood still and silent, waiting to be dismissed. Thinking. That today was Wednesday, which gave me only four days until I suffered this humiliation and pain again. And then every week after that, for I didn't know how long. "Get out of my sight," she commanded. I did.