I was worried that with Gary out of the picture things would get worse, and I was right. I had come to rely on him emotionally, knowing that he had endured so much more for so much longer than either me or Jamie. He was clever, and he was right about revenge helping to offset the injustices we suffered on a day-to-day basis. With him gone, though, I had lost my nerve to do a lot of what we had done before.
Kelly's behavior got more and more daring as the weeks wore on. I've mentioned the washcloth rule -- the fact that my foster father believed that as long as we could hold a washcloth or underwear down over our privates that it was okay to be otherwise naked, and was required for most punishments. The washcloth rule was suspended in the bathroom because Kelly was allowed to check that we were "bathing properly" and cleaning properly on the toilet, etc.
A couple of weeks after Gary left she started a new kind of unspoken policy. Two of the three of us would have to bathe together and one could take a shower. With Charlie and Jamie at 11 and me at 15 I easily threw my weight around and got the shower first -- most of the time. Kelly bathed Jamie and Charlie practically every night, or at least washed their hair.
The first time I didn't get to use the shower first it was because Mr. Foster had told me to put the trash cans out, and by the time I was back in Charlie was in the shower. I moaned inwardly at having to bathe with Jamie because I was so much bigger than he was, and I didn't think it was right for one or the other of us to have to use the other's dirty bath water. (Ostensibly, the rule was one tub full of water and one shower.)
We went into the bathroom while Charlie was drying off, closed the door and took off our clothes. I was still in my jockeys, but Jamie was naked and standing in the tub waiting for it to fill enough to sit down. Of course, Kelly walked in and said, "Well, what are you waiting for?"
"He's smaller" I said. "I'm letting him go first."
"Oh, just get in there with him" she said.
I looked at her, exasperated, and she said, "Let's go, Tom. Get 'em off and step in."
The bathroom was the only room where she could see me naked and get away with it, and I turned my back to her, stripped off my jockeys, and got in the tub with Jamie. I sat with my back to her as the water poured into the tub behind me. I kept my knees pulled up to my chest, and at least managed to conceal my genitals.
"That's better" she said, and led Charlie out of the room.
I had resolved several weeks before to not make a big deal out of anything Kelly made us do. I thought that if I could down play it Jamie wouldn't think it was so bad, and so wouldn't feel so much anxiety (the way I did). I think it worked, at least a little. He splashed me, I splashed back, and as I was reaching for the shampoo to wash his hair Kelly came back in.
"I'll do that" she said, and she took the bottle from me. She proceeded to wash his hair and then made him stand and bathed him thoroughly. I was dreading that she would do the same to me. When she had Jamie lathered up from head to toe she told me to stand up and get out of the way, and I had to stand and put my hands down in front to cover myself and stand on the opposite end of the shower as she rinsed him off.
Jamie stepped out of the tub and started to dry himself, and she looked at me and said, "Okay, get over here."
"I can do it, Kelly" I said, trying to sound strong.
"You don't want to make me angry do you, Tom?" she said, threateningly. I stepped across the tub toward her and she said, "Kneel down" and I complied. Jamie walked out of the bathroom then, looking at me over his shoulder with an expression I couldn't read.
She started by washing and rinsing my hair as I knelt there, hands down in front. Then she started to soap up my back and my back stiffened as she washed my butt and then reached in between my legs.
"Relax" she said, sarcastically. It was degrading to be bathed like that at 15 (especially by an 18 year old girl) and when she said, "Put your arms on top of your head" I had to start breathing through my mouth to stay in control of my emotions.
She soaped up my underarms as I knelt there, completely exposed, and I gasped when her hand slid down my chest and stomach and she began soaping up my privates. I started to get hard and my mind raced trying to think of things to keep it down. A couple of seconds later I was fully erect and blushing furiously.
"Well, that makes it easier to clean underneath" she said, and her voice caught in her throat. "See? You do like getting baths."
It was very weird -- very confusing -- to be so intensely aroused and struggling not to cry at the same time. I kept my face forward, but my eyes were turned from her, looking at the shower wall. My body jerked involuntarily when she said, "Do you jack off, Tom?"
"No" I said, and my own voice caught in my throat, though I was trying not to cry (rather than being turned on as she obviously was).
Her hand smacked my butt hard and she said, "Don't you lie to me."
I looked at her with as much hate as I could put into my eyes, and I was furious at myself for not being able to stop a tear from rolling out of one eye. "Then why'd you ask?" I said in a whisper.
She grabbed my balls kind of hard, not really hard, but it made me grunt. She said, "You're not in a position to get fresh with me young man, you understand me?"
"Yeah" I grunted.
"Don't you mean 'yes?'" she said.
"Yes" I said, louder, as she squeezed harder.
"Yes what?" she said.
"Yes, ma'am!" I said. "Please stop" and she instantly let go.
"Stand up" she said, and turned off the water. I stood and reached for a towel but she said, "Uh, uh. You answer me first. Do you jack off?"
"Yes, ma'am" I said, hating her more and more by the second.
"Then say it" she said.
I blinked back more tears and said, "Yes, ma'am, I jack off." Of course, my own body betrayed me because instead of going down my dick bobbed up and down with my heart beat, my foreskin pulled tightly back.
"Get out and dry off" she said, and I hurriedly did, glad to have a towel to cover myself. I dried quickly and wrapping it around my waist reached for the door.
"Hold it" she said. I froze, breathing heavily, wondering what she had in mind now.
"You lied to me" she said as I turned around and looked at her.
"I'm sorry" I whispered, not yet willing to plead with her not to spank me.
"I need to punish you" she said.
No matter how many times I was degraded by her, _f_u_c_k_ing humiliated by her, I couldn't reconcile myself to being spanked by her. I was used to being in my underwear in front of her, and I thought I might even be getting used to being naked in front of her after the art class incident, but her spankings (and especially her dad's beatings) were more than I could bear.
"It won't happen again" I said quietly.
"Are you worried I'm going to spank you?" she asked, smiling. God, I hated her.
"Yes, ma'am" I said. I HATED being subservient.
"I'm not going to spank you" she said, but it didn't make my anxiety go away. I knew that if she wasn't going to punish me that way she had thought of something equally bad or worse. She just looked at me in silence for a couple of seconds and said, "Hang your towel up and face me. And you keep your hands at your sides or I will spank you."
I did as she said, and struggled to keep my hands from moving to cover my dick which had gone to half hard. "Over here" she said, pointing to her feet. I stepped over to her and she said, "Get on your knees" and again I complied.
"Now put your hands behind your back and put your forehead at my feet like a good boy." I clasped my hands behind my back and then bent forward and put my forehead on the cold tile floor. I had never been in this position, and when she said, "Put your knees farther apart" I felt cool air brush past my balls and my asshole. My dick went limp and my skull started to throb slightly as the blood rushed to my face.
I felt completely and utterly exposed and helpless like this, and she reached down and patted my butt and said, "That's my good boy." I wanted to kill her, and I started to seriously consider the possibility regardless of the consequences to me and Jamie.
She brushed her teeth, then (I assumed) began going through her nightly routine in the bathroom. After 15 or 20 minutes she said, "Are you ready for your punishment?" My stomach turned over when she said that. I thought I was being punished, and I couldn't imagine what she had in mind.
She smacked my butt hard and said, "I asked you a question, young man."
"Yes, ma'am" I said. "I'm ready for my punishment."
I heard a jar being opened then, and then Kelly said, "Reach back and spread your cheeks open, Tom."
Fear gripped me deep in my gut as I reached back and grabbed my ass, pulling my butt cheeks apart. I started to shake, not knowing what she was going to do to me. She had never done anything like this before.
"Well thank God you don't have hair back here" she said. I didn't have much hair on my body at all. Some on my legs, definitely some pubes (though less than other guys I saw in gym class) and barely any under my arms (again, compared to other guys in my class). The next moment I felt her finger touch my hole and I gasped as she slathered on something slick.
"Stand up" she said, and I leaped to my feet, started to cover up in front, then forced my hands to stay at my sides. A moment later my butt hole began to sting, then as Kelly washed her hands it began to burn.
"What is that? What did you do?" I asked, panicking. It started to burn even more.
"Just some menthol" she said. "It won't hurt you, but you're not going to like it" and she smiled evilly. The menthol started to burn even more and I danced uncomfortably back and forth from one foot to another.
"Oh, God" I said. "I can't take it. Let me take it off" I begged, as the burning increased even more. I had never felt anything like it.
Kelly nonchalantly reached into the cabinet below the sink, pulled out a fresh washcloth and handed it to me. "You go corner yourself in the livingroom until I say you can come out" she said.
I took the washcloth from her with a shaking hand and she said, "Don't even think about wiping, Tom. I'm going to check your hands and the washcloth and if I smell menthol I'm going to make sure that daddy punishes you."
I had been beaten by her father twice, and I was now deciding what could be worse: being beaten again, or enduring this torture. The thing was, after he beat me with a belt or paddle they'd both probably make me resume this punishment until Kelly was satisfied.
I held the washcloth down in front and made my way miserably to the livingroom. I tried to stand there calmly and take it, but the burning sensation in my asshole had gone way beyond anything I can describe in words. It felt cold and hot at the same time, and it was so awful -- so horrible -- that all of my attention was focused there and only there. Within 10 minutes I was crying quietly to myself, and after 20 I was sobbing openly and pleading with Kelly to let me free.
She was in the other room, so I had to speak loud enough for the whole house to hear. "Kelly! Kelly, please! Pleeeeeas!" I kept calling to her in the other room, but she ignored me.
I didn't care that Jamie and Charlie and Mr. Foster were sitting with her watching TV. I didn't care how humiliating it was to beg and plead like a little kid bawling in his crib. I was in so much pain that I would have done anything -- and I really do mean anything -- to be free of this torment.
Kelly finally came into the room and said, "God, you're being such a baby. If you want you can wipe off in the bathroom and then bring the hairbrush out to the family room." I didn't even let her finish before I bolted from the room, though I heard everything she said.
In the bathroom I quickly grabbed wads of toilet paper and wiped furiously at my ass, spreading my cheeks with one hand to get all of the menthol. It didn't help at all. It still burned. I yelped involuntarily and cried harder then, feeling helpless and desperate for release from the pain.
"What's the problem?" I heard Mr. Foster say, and I turned and saw him standing in the doorway with Kelly standing behind him.
"It still burns!" I said, sobbing. I didn't realize it at the time, but looking back on it it was the first time that I actually wanted them there with me. I wanted help. I needed help, or I was going to go out of my mind from the burning in my little hole.
Mr. Foster walked into the room and Kelly leaned in the doorway, smiling at my discomfort. He opened a cabinet and opened a jar of Vaseline. "Rest your shoulders here on the counter" he said, patting the counter, "and pull your cheeks open."
I immediately complied, despite the humiliating position. "Argh!" I grunted, as his finger roughly pushed and swirled around my butt hole. He took some toilet paper then, roughly wiped me, and then slathered on some more Vaseline. All the while I was bent over the counter in front of them both, holding my butt cheeks wide open so that either of them had access to my hole.
Again he roughly slathered on more Vaseline, then wiped me hard again making me feel raw, then he put a little more Vaseline on and told me to stand up.
It still hurt a little bit, but I couldn't tell if it was left over from the menthol or from the way he had scraped the toiled paper across my now very tender hole. I had never felt this violated before. Despite all the humiliating punishments I had endured since coming to live with the Fosters, this was by far the worst. They had both touched my asshole! It made me feel violated inside. I don't know how to explain it better than that. The spankings and washcloth rule and all of that was violating on the outside, but I could keep a part of myself -- in my head -- somewhat detached and hating them.
This, though -- this was more than that. I felt like they had been inside me -- inside my body -- and I wondered with new dread whether Kelly would ever actually put something inside me. Like, push something into my asshole and up inside me. It had never occurred to me before that that could happen, but having spent nearly the last hour focused on that part of my anatomy all kinds of horrible things started to go through my head.
Mr. Foster broke this train of thought when he said, "That was quite a dramatic little show. You're just as bad as Gary. Bring the hairbrush out to the family room." And then he turned around and walked away with his devil spawned daughter.
I picked up the hairbrush off the counter and gritted my teeth as I looked at it. I was exhausted from the last hour's torment, and I wasn't ready to go out there and be paddled on top of it all. But I knew that if I kept them waiting very long that I'd get it worse. I pulled on my briefs and swallowed my feelings.
I turned toward the door and forced my legs to get moving, making my way to the family room. When I got there, the TV was off and Kelly and her dad were sitting on the sofa and Jamie and Charlie were standing there in their little jockeys and nothing else.
"I understand you've been throwing your weight around" said Mr. Foster.
"No, sir" I said nervously, not knowing what he meant.
"Charlie here tells me that you make him and Jamie wait for you to use the shower every night."
"Yes, sir" I said quietly. It was true. I couldn't deny it.
"What makes you think you're entitled to special treatment in this house, young man?" he asked me.
"I don't" I said.
"So you've just been a bully, is that it?" he said.
"No, sir. I just thought -- I just -- I'm older is all. I thought it was okay." I said.
"It is not okay" he said. "You are all equal, you got that? All three of you. And after tonight's little performance I have to say you don't even act Jamie's age, much less your own."
"You don't know how much -- " I started, but he said, "BE QUIET" and I gulped down the rest of my words.
"Give the hairbrush to Charlie" he said, and I looked warily at Charlie but did as he said. "Now get down on your hands and knees so that you're low enough for him to spank you."
I slouched, exasperated, but got down on my hands and knees, staring at the floor. This was too much. This was almost as bad as the menthol. Well, I thought, correcting myself. Nothing was as bad as the menthol, but this was really going over the top.
"Charlie" said Mr. Foster, "you stand behind Tom there and you give him six good smacks with the hairbrush when I tell you to. You ONLY hit his butt and nowhere else, is that clear?"
"Yes, sir" said Charlie nervously.
"Tom, look up at me" he said, and my head snapped up and I glared at him and his evil daughter.
"You keep your eyes up here, you understand" he said, pointing to his face.
"Yes, sir" I said through gritted teeth.
"All right, Charlie" he said, "Six good ones."
The next moment I felt the hairbrush slam into my butt and I had to arch my back and lean forward, still being careful to keep my eyes on the Fosters. He was pretty _d_a_m_n_ strong for an 11 year old, though I guess that anyone other than an infant could swing a hairbrush pretty easily.
Again the brush slammed into my butt and I grunted and heard Charlie giggle. Four more times he whacked my backside and I was breathing hard and struggling to blink back the tears (as much from the humiliation of being spanked by an 11 year old as from the pain) by the time the sixth whack landed.
"All right" said Mr. Foster. "Your turn, Jamie."
Oh, God, I thought. Not more. And not from Jamie.
"I don't want to" said Jamie, and I could hear the tears in his voice.
"You want to disobey me?" said Mr. Foster, reaching for his belt buckle.
"No" said Jamie quickly. "No, sir" and I heard him take the brush from Charlie. I was still looking at the Fosters and then Kelly said, "I think someone's going to cry this time" and she smirked at me.
"I'm sorry" whispered Jamie, trying to say it softly enough so that only I could hear.
"Be quiet and get to it" said Mr. Foster.
Jamie hit me once, halfheartedly, and then started to cry openly.
"Do I have to take my belt off?" said Mr. Foster.
"Just do it, Jamie" I whispered, and then I had to grunt more as six solid hits landed quickly on my ass. I did squeeze out a couple of tears then, but I managed not to cry. It was kind of like Jamie was crying for me, and it helped to have him there (weird as that may sound).
I heard the brush clunk on the floor as Jamie dropped it, and then Mr. Foster said to Charlie, "You enjoyed that, did you?"
I looked back at Charlie and the smile on his face immediately vanished and was replaced with panic. "No, sir" he said.
"Do you remember our rule?" said Mr. Foster.
"No, sir" said Charlie.
Mr. Foster shook his head and said, "You better learn to pay attention, boy. When one of you gets punished, you all get punished, remember? On your feet, Tom. I want you all standing shoulder to shoulder, washcloth rule, now!"
We quickly stood next to each other and pulled our underwear down and off. I was so much bigger than Jamie and Charlie that, standing between them, we couldn't really stand shoulder to shoulder.
"Come here you two" said Mr. Foster, indicating the two boys. They both were taken over each of the Foster's laps and spanked hard five or six times. Charlie was sniffling, but Jamie was crying hard.
We all lined up again side by side, each holding his underwear down in front. "Go to bed" said Mr. Foster, not looking at us and pointing the remote at the TV.
We all turned and fled the room, and when we got to our bedroom we pulled on our underwear. As Charlie got into his bed Jamie turned his tear streaked face to me and said, "I'm sorry, Tommy! I'm sorry" and he clung to my leg.
I picked him up and hugged him and told him it was okay. I let him sleep with me that night, and when I was sure he and Charlie were both out I let everything I had had to push down inside me that day come up and I cried silently as I held my little brother close to me, like two spoons in a drawer.