Part 1, The Orphanage


by Bobbywhip <Bobbywhip@hotmail.com>

A boy's journal of his life in 1902

About 35 miles south of Peru, Texas down a dusty and rutted road stands an orphanage for boys' ages nine to 18. These boys are the least likely to be adopted or be chosen by fostering parents. They live their lives working the dairy field of cows and tending to other crops on the farm.

They built the school and dormitory in 1875. The place houses 90 boys, three teachers, one secretary, one Dean and a Headmaster. The Dean is in charge of school discipline. There are some grounds keepers and security people, but I don't know how many.

Dean Wilfred takes great pride in his duty to punish each of the boys. Not one boy has escaped his paddle or strap or cane or whip or switch. The rules are so long and strict that it's impossible for a boy not to be caught in some kind of trouble. Some punishments are handed out in the classroom in front of other boys — some in Dean Wilfred's special room the boys call the "Torture Chamber" — some are given at a special whipping post in front of the school where all boys are called to watch the miscreant get lashed naked.

I have lived at that orphanage since I was nine. Before that I lived at an orphanage for younger kids. I've always lived in an orphanage, never a normal home. It's now 1902 and I'm 13- years-old. I can't recall the number of spankings and whippings I have received or even guess the number of spanks and lashes I have received. A lucky week for me was when I received only two punishments. A bad week was when I got four or five punishments.

My ass and back and sometimes my chest have always had red marks and a few welts in the four years of living here. The old ones fade away and new ones are always being added. I've learned to fight back the tears and urge to scream and cry. Instead, I take the punishment and try my best to see how much pain I can suffer before being broken. Sometimes I get through the whole ordeal without a tear or a whimper. That drives Dead Wilfred _f_u_c_k_ing nuts. He enjoys hearing the boys cry and beg for mercy. I try to deny him that, the bastard.

Humiliation is also a part of the punishment scene — being stripped naked in front of the other boys. It doesn't bother me, because I've been in that situation more times than I can remember. Besides, I've got the same equipment and human design that all the other boys have: some may be taller, shorter, thinner or heavier. There are times I wish I could go naked all day or simply ware one of those skimpy loin cloths boys wore in ancient times.

I'm proud of my body and don't mind showing it off even with red marks and welts. I'm 5 foot four, weigh 105 pounds and a well-proportioned body with what I think is a cute well- rounded ass. I have blue eyes, blond hair hanging down nearly to my eyelids. My name is Bobby.

My _s_e_x_ual urges are very strong. My _c_o_c_k_ and balls are developing well. Sure I see the older boys with very well developed _s_e_x_ organs. I don't envy them, because I know in a year or two I'll look the same as they do now.

_s_e_x_ is a very important part of my life and all the boys here. It's the only pleasurable thing we have to do in this _f_u_c_k_ing rathole. I especially enjoy being sucked off or masturbating after receiving a punishment. My body is sore, tingling and very warm. Having _s_e_x_ at that time helps me to endure the pain I just suffered.

Dean Wilfred knows his boys are _s_e_x_ maniacs. He's one too. There was a rare boy who hadn't been fondled by that bastard, or have him watch us in a scene. I guess that's how that ugly puss got his rocks off.

One memorable punishment was when Jerry and I were caught stealing some cookies and then lying about it. Old "_s_h_i_t_head," that's what we nicknamed Dean Wilfred, sentenced us boys to a day of hard labor in the fields under the lash of the whip.

Jerry was into taking as much pain as he could just as I was. We knew this punishment day was going to be difficult but decided to have as much fun as we could. Old _s_h_i_t_head wouldn't come out to do his dirty work under the hot Texas sun. He sent a big muscular senior to do it. Simon enjoyed the power he had over us younger boys. He would enjoy this day.

Jerry and I cut up some old rags to fashion small loin cloths that we tied with small ropes around our waists. The cloths barely covered our _c_o_c_k_s when they were hard. The cloths came no higher on our bodies than the beginning of our developing pubic hair. Our asses were completely exposed. If we're going to be treated as slave boys, then we might as well look like slave boys.

Simon used a leather whip on us that didn't draw immediate welts like the one we called "The Stinger." He used a lighter whip with two strips of half-inch wide and an eighth-inch thick leather two and a half feet long. That whip stung like hell, but a boy could take many lashes without much damage to the skin. Old _s_h_i_t_head designed the whip when he wanted to use it on a boy for a long time.

The Stinger was used for a severe beating on the back or ass. It hurt so hard that a boy's breath could be taken away in a second. It left an immediate welt. Old _s_h_i_t_head could only give a boy at most a dozen lashes or the kid would go unconscious.

Fortunately Jerry and I have deep, dark tans over most of our bodies. Otherwise that Texas sun would make us toast. Most of the boys developed deep tans early in the season. Many of us liked going without shirts and wearing shorts in the warm weather. Besides, shirts were clothes we had to treasure; most of us had only one or two. You had to keep them nice until the church ladies gave us some donations. When the ladies gave us used clothing, most were never allowed to see our naked backs with welts. That would freak out some old ladies. Some ladies did see us stripped and saw the welts and red marks when we tried on clothing. They often said, "spare the whip and spoil the child" or some such _s_h_i_t_. They said it was in the Bible. An adult beating a kid is usual in these parts. I've never met a kid who has not been spanked or whipped with tales to tell how hard it was and his bravery in taking it. That's all bull_s_h_i_t_ to me. They probably cried like babies.

If you had a deep tan, you could have your fun with _s_e_x_ without a sunburn. More important, when that whip falls on you it's best not to have a sunburn. We didn't get a good education at that _f_u_c_k_ing place, but we weren't stupid.

When the time came for our hard labor punishment, Simon desperately wanted to play the role of slave driver. I can't blame him. When I'm a senior in this rathole, I'm going to whip every kid Old _s_h_i_t_head will let me.

Simon had Jerry and I chained and each dragging a lead ball that seemed to weigh a ton. He marched us out to the field where the other boys could see us. We didn't _f_u_c_k_ing care. This was the fun part — being chained, tiny loin cloths and awaiting our punishment. Old _s_h_i_t_head thought the other boys seeing us would stop bad behavior, as if he really wanted to do that and miss his fun with us.

All of the boys seeing us yelled "whip'em" or laughed at us. None, absolutely none, were fearful of what they saw or scared that if they looked at us they might receive the same treatment. We all learned that trouble making was the most fun here, number two behind _s_e_x_. We learned also that not getting caught was the most fun, third in line behind _s_e_x_ and trouble making. This orphanage was like a prison. Besides whipping us what more could they do to us? We were already in a prison.

None of us ever tried to escape or even thought about it. We were miles and miles from nowhere — no skills, no money, no family, no friends on the outside. At least they fed and housed us in this rathole, and that was better than nothing. Some 18-year-olds did escape and hitchhiked their way on wagons to freedom. The Head Master and Old _s_h_i_t_head didn't care and neither did the Sheriff nor Texas Rangers. It just made more room for younger kids. There was never a shortage of boys to fill this place.

That day of our hard labor punishment was fun at first. Simon marched us around in a wide circle in front of the other boys, occasionally whipping our backs and naked butts. He wasn't hard on us. He had the whole day to punish us.

We arrived at a stockpile of rocks and were told to take one rock to another place about twenty feet away then come back to get another rock. Meanwhile, Simon would whip us for going too slow or too fast. That is such an old _f_u_c_k_ing punishment that must date back a million years — doing some useless task while being whipped. Why couldn't Simon be more imaginative than that? I would have us do something useful and then purposefully _f_u_c_k_ us up behind our backs and make us redo it. That way I could get really pissed at the guy. I had real sympathy for Simon. He was a nice guy. I liked him, but he was stupid.

The day wore on with us taking rocks from one place to another and being whipped. Carrying the rocks was more annoying to me than the whipping. At one point, when Simon wasn't looking, I dropped a rock on his barefoot big toe. The son-of-a-bitch yelled from Texas to Kansas. I had a hard time holding back a laugh. He knew I did it. I didn't deny it.

Poor Simon was dancing around and screaming in pain. I felt sorry for him. But, at least, it gave Jerry and me a breather. I tried to sooth poor Simon's toe that he thought was broken. The stupid guy could move the toe, so it wasn't broken.

When Simon finally came to his senses he had me stand with my hands above my head. He whipped me as hard as he could from shoulders to ass. I knew I had that coming. When he was through, Jerry dropped another rock on Simon's other big toe. We thought the guy was going to _s_h_i_t_ his pants and die on the spot.

We eased Simon over to a shaded area and suggested we get him some water. Jerry and I were nearly dehydrated and Simon must be too. Jerry went for the water. I nursed Simon. The big mule can't take pain like Jerry and me, but he sure can dish it out.

Jerry came back with two bucketfuls of cold water. We used one to soak all three of us and one to soothe our thirst. The three of us relaxed under the shade for at least a half hour or more. Jerry knew he was in for some heavy whipping when Simon came alive. He didn't care about that now. All Jerry wanted was rest, water and a cooling off. Let the lashes come later. He knew there was _s_e_x_ to follow this punishment. That was the only thing to look forward to besides dinner and a good night sleep.

Bulky, big ass Simon fell asleep. We put him out of commission as our torturer for at least awhile. Jerry and I fell asleep, too.

Unfortunately, Simon awakened about an hour later and found Jerry and me both asleep. He got up, gathered his whip, and lashed us both awake. What a _f_u_c_k_ing way to be awakened.

Simon made us both stand with our hands on our heads while he whip lashed both of us from shoulders to asses. Then he made us go back to that stupid rock lifting from one place to another. This time he kept his feet well away from our rocks. That meant the whip couldn't reach as easily. Try as he might, the whip fell mostly on thin air and not our naked bodies. I had enough of his _f_u_c_k_ing lashes for one day. But there were more to come. Simon took his job seriously. As seriously as he could for being so stupid.

The evening bell was ringing for all the boys to come in from the field. The march started. We started too. But Simon had another idea.

The nutcase called for some boys to come over. They knew we were being punished — so they eagerly came. Simon told several boys to take Jerry and me by the hands and feet and suspend us horizontally in midair. Because of our loin cloths, our backsides were naked. Simon gave a whip to one boy and said to whip Jerry as hard as he could from shoulders to ass. The boys swung Jerry back and forth while the other boy lashed him. The other four boys had me swinging in midair watching Jerry being whipped. Then the whip was passed to another boy who lashed me with a vengeance I didn't think I deserved.

Jerry and I were let down, and we marched back to the dinning room. Our backs and butts were red, sore and had a few welts. The other boys laughed at us. We laughed too. We would have done the same to them, given the chance.

Tommy was the boy who whipped me just moments ago. He was walking with Jerry and me.

"You sure laid it on good, Tommy," I laughed and spanked him on the butt.

"It was fun, Bobby. You seem to get it more than most of us." He patted me on my sore bare ass. "Want to have a little fun tonight in the dorms? It's a nice way to relax after being punished."

"Sure. I haven't had _s_e_x_ with you. I've always wanted to. It'll be fun. Let's eat at the same table and talk."

Most people would think we would wash, get cleaned up and dressed before dinner. Not in this _f_u_c_k_ing rathole. There is no hot water, unless you boil it. We don't have toilets. We have outhouses. We don't have wash tubs. Someone throws a bucket of water over our heads and we wash outside. In the cooler months this place stinks worse than it does in the summer. The kids don't like taking cold showers outside in the winter.

I've heard of hot running water. I've heard of indoor plumbing. I've heard of a lot of new things people have in the big cities. But in 1902 none of those things have reached us. We're just poor kids in a poverty-stricken orphanage getting the _s_h_i_t_ beat out of us every day. Nobody cares about us.

Walking into the dinning hall nearly every boy was shirtless. All wore shorts, mostly tattered and nothing but rags. Jerry and I were the only ones nearly naked with our tiny loin cloths covering our pricks. Half the kids it seemed had welts on their backs.

Old _s_h_i_t_head had his table on a pedestal about three feet off the floor. That way he could see all the boys and the way they were acting. He had a few seniors roaming the hall to maintain discipline. Every boy was talking, screaming, laughing. Old _s_h_i_t_head rang his stupid bell to quiet things down. And if things didn't quiet down the punishments would begin.

The Old Bastard yelled out a dozen names of boys including Jerry and me. He told us to kneel out. That meant we knelt on the floor like we were praying for the full 45-minutes of dinner. That hardwood floor could make your kneecaps pretty sore just after a few minutes, let alone 45- minutes. I hated that punishment. Most of our faces barely reached the plate on the table.

We called dinner slop time. All we got was some sort of cornmeal mush, water and bread. But, hey, if you're hungry you'll eat anything. Occasionally they would give us fruit and vegetables that some local churches donated to us. Old _s_h_i_t_head got a Texas steak and a good meal. That _f_u_c_k_ing bastard loved his role of authority and his power over us. He ain't gonna go hungry.

During the hot summer nights, the boys would cluster in groups in front of the school and sing songs, have _s_e_x_ or just relax. You had to do your best to avoid those Texas mosquitoes the size of small birds. The welts they would leave were every bit as bad as Old _s_h_i_t_head's whip. I'd take the welts from the whip anytime over those _f_u_c_k_ing mosquitoes. The little bastards stung like hell and itched for a long time. At least _s_h_i_t_head's welts were nothing but some red lines for a few days or a week or so and didn't itch as much.

Jerry, Tommy and I went back to the dorms. It was hotter than hell on that third floor. There wasn't any breeze that night. We went to my cot. We didn't have beds. I've heard about soft beds but never slept in one. Some day my turn will come. I've heard some people have telephones and electric lights. We use lanterns. I've never talked on a telephone. I've never seen an electric light.

The three of us stripped naked. That wasn't much for Jerry and me. We just got rid of our loin cloths and the ropes that were by now itching our waists. We were glad to get rid of them. Our backs, chests and butts were still very sore from our punishment today. Tommy rubbed both Jerry and me with the sweat from our bodies. He did it gently. It felt very nice.

Tommy wanted to put his _c_o_c_k_ in my butt. I've had that done a few times and it always hurt. Tommy said he would be gentle. The kid sure was. What he did to me was a first and a most beautiful experience. I felt him cum inside me. Man did that feel good. This kid can do it to me every night. I loved it.

Jerry was a little more experienced than me. Tommy loved the way Jerry did it and the intensity of the orgasm that Jerry flushed into Tommy.

Later we sucked each other off until we were exhausted. What a _f_u_c_k_ing day in more ways than one.

I really didn't mind the whippings we received today, neither did Jerry. Some of it hurt and some of it was fun, especially dropping rocks on Simon's toes. The mush for dinner did fill my stomach. But the lovemaking really topped it off. I'd repeat today tomorrow. What else is there to do in an orphanage?

Tomorrow came and I put on a pair of shorts that were too short and too tight and too tattered. I didn't ware a shirt as usual. I didn't ware shoes. I don't have any. I have a pair of sandals for special occasions. All of the boys went without shoes. All we ever had was what they donated to us.

After breakfast, I was summoned to Old _s_h_i_t_head's office. What the _f_u_c_k_ have I done now? That Old Bastard can dream up more things to punish me for than I actually deserve for getting into trouble.

There were 19 boys 13-years-of-age ordered to _s_h_i_t_head's office. None of us had a clue why we were there. He lined us up against a wall facing him.

"There is a family coming to visit that wants to adopt a 13-year-old boy. The lucky boy will get to go live with them in Peru in a nice family home. How many of you want a chance at that?"

About half the kids raised their hands high. Some gave only a minor gesture. I didn't raise my hand at all. I didn't want to leave a place I know for a place I don't know. I'll wait until I meet these people. I do know this: If they pick me, I'll have to go.

The couple came to the orphanage in a rickety old wagon drawn by two horses. We could see them arrive from where we were standing.

She was about 5-foot-five; he was about 6-feet tall. She was pretty in her long dress with a scarf partially covering her hair. He was an ugly looking sourpuss with a broad rimmed hat on, cowboy boots and coveralls. The man looked pretty strong, like a guy who works hard with his hands.

They talked to Old _s_h_i_t_head quietly so the boys couldn't hear. Then the couple walked from one end of the row of boys to the other end, looking closely at our eyes and bodies. Then Old _s_h_i_t_head told us to turn around and face the wall. We did, and the couple walked down the row again looking us over. This was pissing me off. We're not a bunch of cattle up for sale. We're not even slave boys being auctioned off; although some people think of us as slave boys.

Old _s_h_i_t_head made us turn around and face the couple. He gave some papers to the man who looked at them and gave them to his wife to read. I didn't think the guy could read. I can read. I'm gonna be somebody some day. Don't know when or how. But I'm gonna do it, by God.

The man pointed to ME. Old _s_h_i_t_head told me to come forward. I was trembling. Why the _f_u_c_k_ did this guy chose me?

The other boys were dismissed. I saw them go. I didn't get to say goodbye. Old _s_h_i_t_head told me to go to the dorm and get my things. I ran upstairs to the dorm and got my extra pair of shorts, my one shirt and my sandals. That's all I own. I didn't know if they would want me to ware the shirt. I was afraid to because it's the only _f_u_c_k_ing shirt I have. Where am I gonna get another one? Then I ran downstairs.

The couple were shaking hands with Old _s_h_i_t_head. When I got there, they told me to go to the wagon. In a few minutes the horses took us away. I was sitting between the man and his wife. I looked back at the orphanage. I didn't even get to say goodbye to Old _s_h_i_t_head. I started to cry, but I didn't let these people see me cry. All I could think of was where am I headed; where is my life gonna go from here?


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