I awoke one night to some muffled noises from a bunk one down from mine. I could hear some giggles, then hushing sounds, followed by whispers. Curiosity caused me to sit up in bed and strain my ears to hear where the sounds were coming from. The room was dark except for a small "EXIT" sign by the door, so it was not too very hard to see some movement and a bit of light escaping through a blanket on the bunk across and one down from mine. I was considering getting up, when the bright overhear lights came on, and Dave, who was the counselor for the group next to us, and was serving as our counselor for two weeks while ours was away, stormed into the room. He seemed to take things in, and then made a beeline for the bunk across from me, where he pulled the blanket aside, to find the bunk's owner, Barry, and Tim, a boy who's bunk was down by the front door. They had the look of deer in headlights. Tim was holding a flashlight, which is kept in the emergency locker, and which we were told to never touch, and Barry was holding a magazine, which was later rumored to contain pictures of girls in their underwear!
Dave threw the blanket on the floor, and ordered the two startled boys out of the bunk. He told them to just stand there, as he left. Both Tim and Barry had started to cry, because they knew (as did everyone there) that we were never allowed out of our bunks at night, never allowed to use the emergency flashlight, and never, never allowed anything which in any way might be considered to be "dirty".
Dave came back in carrying a nasty looking paddle. It was painted black, and was very shiny (from its contact with boy's butts, I thought). I could see that it had many holes in it, and I thought that it looked really, really scary. Dave told the boys to remove their nightshirts. Both reluctantly bend down, and pulled the shirts up, and off, over their heads, exposing themselves to the entire dorm. Tim was a dark haired kid, with a skinny build. It was obvious that either the pictures, or the threat of punisment had worked upon him, as his little penis was as stiff as a board, and stuck not only out, but almost straight up! Barry, was a curyly haired red head. He was an average build kind of kid. I immediately looked for any sign that he was erect like Tim, but his little penis seemed to have shrunk into his body, until only the little pink head with it's little slit, sitting atop his bag stood out.
Both boys were told to get over the bed, and both sort of climbed over the back of Tim's bed. Dut to the height of the end rail, they ended up with their butts bent over the rail, their feet off of the floor, and their upper bodies and arms on the bed itself. Tim had his cheeks squeezed tightly together, while Barry's cheeks were wide apart. It appeared that he was trying to gain some sort of balance, as he was laying there. In doing so, I could plainly see his little hole, and his bag hanging down, with the tip of his penis showing, as it was forced down by the bed rail. Tim, on the other hand, was a picture of straight lines, as you could see nothing from the top of his butt to his ankles, except for the straight line that went right down the middle.
Dave stepped back and seemed to take aim on the butts in front of him. He smashed a real stinger into Barry's butt, which seemed to immediately stiffen, as the shock hit him. His legs went straight out behind him. Tim received his swat on the aforementioned tightly squeezed cheeks. I could see his butt as the paddle finished it's run, and was withdrawn. His cheeks were white, with little red marks where the holes appeared to be. Then, as I stared at it, it turned pink, and then suddenly red. Dave then laid 5 more strokes along the same line of Tim's butt, until he screamed in pain, and kicked his legs up and down, and from side to side in an attempt to relieve the pain. Barry received 5 more, and I could see each one flatten his little butt cheeks. He did not squirm, but did flex his butt cheeks in and out, appearing to shove his little hole right out for the paddle to hit! Dave the continued to paddle them, 5 strokes at a time, back and forth, and back and forth. I did not keep track of how many times he went from one to the other. It just seemed to never end. Both of their butts were beyond bright red. Both had small bruises from the paddle holes. Both boys were screaming in pain, not just crying.
Dave then talked to the boys, and accented his points with a sharp smack to each cheek of the boys as he spoke. Things like "Don't you know you SMACK aren't supposed to be SMACK up after hours? Don't you know SMACK that you are never, SMACK, never, SMACK, never, SMACK to take the emergency flashligt? SMACK don't you know what will SMACK happen to you if you SMACK, SMACK do that? SMACK, Smack, Smack, SMACKKKKK!
This continued on until the boys could only lay there and take it. Dave told them to go to their bunks, and then told us that he had better not hear another peep from our room, as he walked to the door, turned and stared at us, and snapped off the light.
The room was quickly dark, and quiet except for the sobbing boys. I fell asleep as they were both sobbing. The next morning, they both showed off their "wounds" to us in the shower. Both boys bottoms were still red, with faint blue marks, but nothing near as bad as I thought the had to be after their beatings.
I was late clearing out of the shower three nights later, and met Dave's paddle in a very familiar way. He had me bend over and grab my ankles, as I stood their soaking wet, and naked as a jaybird! Everyone in he shower room watched as I took 3 quick smacks. I think the embarassment of having everything exposed, and being the center of attention, was the worst part of the spanking. I actually thought that it was easier on me than the strap that I had become so very, very familiar with!