Please refer to previous Pender County Academy stories for background.
Early in the morning of Black Tuesday, I was awakened by laughter, and noise. When I poked my head up, I could see two of the older boys, by the door, were in bed with their butts up in the air, farting with all of their might. Each thunderous sound from the to caused rolls of laugter from my roommates. The boys became so bold as to pull up the back of their nightshirts, exposing thir butts to the "air". Suddenly, the door flew open, and Ray entered the room, strap in hand. He took in the view of the two boys, and probably could smell what they had been doing. A normal person would have laughed himself, but not Ray. He quickly moved to the area betweeen their two beds, and started to strap their bare behinds. He did not finish until their butts were bright red. Then, he turned to the rest of us, and told us we had one minute to get in position over the end of our beds. This did not seem fair, and several voiced such an opinion, only to be told that their opinions were not asked for, and they would receive a little something "special" for expressing themselves so. Quickly, I jumped out of bed, and draped myself over the end of my bed, after carefully lifting up my nightshirt. Since I was somewhat small, I was bent over a lot, and could see between my legs to the other boy's beds across from mine. (I also had a clear view of my own penis and balls as I lay there). The strap sounds and crying grew closer, as boy after boy received 4 strokes across their butts. (Except for the two who expressed their comments. One got 6 strokes, the other got 8 strokes when he managed to fart after the 4th stroke! I could see Ray now, at Billy's bed. Billy was tall, and his feet were on the floor, and he was laying on his chest in his bed. His pasty white skinny butt was on display, and was promptly turned red. I then saw Ray's legs standing at the foot of my bed, and suddenly heard a cracking sound and noticed my by now hard penis surging forward as the strap found my butt. Ray worked his way down, as he always does. When he got to what he calls the "sweet spot", which is the areaaround the lines where your butt ends and thighs begin. The last stroke was especially hard, and I reared up in pain, but not enough to earn extra stokes. Little Eric, the boy across from me, had such smal legs that he (Like me) had to hang over the metal bed end as he received his punishment. After his second stroke, I noticed his butt start to move back and forth, and side to side, in a sort of dance to eliminate pain. The last stroke fell verticaly over his little boyhole, causing an immediate reaction. Eric straightened out, arms and legs out to the side, lookinglike like he was trying to fly like superman. Unfortunately, he also had plled his leg in and up in frnt, whih caused his little boy bag to pouch back, right into the line of fire. Eric's scream filled the room, and caused Ray to ru his hands overte boy's butt, and to even finger the boy's bag and butt.
Later that morning, we all looked at each other's butts in the shower. Of course, the two ringleaders butts looked worse, but little Eric was still sobbing a bit. I spoke to him, and even felt his little balls for him. Since he didn't scream, I thought he was OK. Holding another boy's "privates" in my hand reminded me that I had, for the second time, watched my own "privates" as they swung forward with each stroke from RAy.
Later, we boarded the bus, and found a substitute teacher, who yelled at us as soon as we entered her bus. It was a quiet ride, broken only by the groans of those of us who had had their bottoms spanked especially hard.
At noon, I ushed to the defense of a little PCA girl who was pinned down by two bigger boys. I pulled them off, and even hit one of them, I was so angry. Unfortunately for me, the assistant coach saw the whole thing. He ordered us to all go to Mr. Ripley's office. I was pretty smug, as all I had done was attempt to break up the fight. When we entered Mr. Ripley's office, we saw him already taking his big black paddle off its hook in the wall. He asked questions, but eventually said that we would get it as he could not determine the proof. He had the first boy pull down his jeans and underpants, and then laid into him with the paddle, which caused the little girl to start to cry. Mr. Ripley's paddle was big and black, and had several holes in it. When he swung it hard and fast, it would make a peculiar high pitched whine, which the kids who had heard (and/or felt) it called "singing", as in "Mr. Ripley's paddle was really singing when David was in there." Anyway, it was making a noise as he swung it again. He stopped and had the boy bend over and grasp his ankles. He and the other boy were 7th graders, so I imagine they were 13 or so. Anyway, when he bent over tighter, his bag showed from between his legs, causing the little girl to gasp. The boy got 12 really heavy swats, and was told to get dressed and leave. He was very careful as he pulled his underpants up and over his bright red butt. The second boy was a red head, and had freckles all over his full backside. He bent over and grabbed his ankles, which not only shoved his bag out, but also showed us his hole, which had little red hairs around it. He took his licks without making a noise, and only showed he had felt the paddle when he stood up and suddenly grabbed his butt cheeks. He turned toward me, and I could see his penis was really big, compared to the other boy, and especially to mine. It hung down low, as did his balls. I could see a kind of fluid on the tip of it, and wondered if he had peed himself. I did not see a puddle. I reminded myself to hold my bladder tight when I got it. I thought I would be next, and even had unsnapped my trousers, when he told he other boy to leave, and called the little girl up. I found out later that she was in second grade. She was told to pull down her underpanties to her ankles, and to bend over and grab her legs like the boys had just done. She was crying as she reached up under her skirt and pulled her panties down by the sides. She then bent way over, which caused her skirt to ride up, exposing her little tiny butt, and that girl slit like thing that I had seen before. It looked like a pad of fat with a line cut in it. As she bent, I could clearly see her butt hole also, and it was pink instead of the brown I had seen. I wondered if she somehow wiped her butt really well after she pooped (if girls even pooped.) Mr. Ripley whacked her with the paddle, and she almost fell over. She started to sob and shake. He gave her 4 more kind of gentle smacks, and told her to stand up and get dressed. Her butt was bright pink, but not red. As she left, Mr. Ripley pointed to me with his paddle. I quickly undid my fly, and pulled my jeans and underpants down with the same motion. I then walked forward, and bent over, grabbing my ankles. I could feel that my bag was pushed out, and was trying to figure out how to pull it in, when the first stroke hit. I wasn't ready for it, and screamed out in pain (probably also due to strapping I had already had) I quickly bent back over and grabbed my ankles. I stared at the tip of my penis, and wondered if I would start to pee like the older boy, when the second swat hit. I could feel the burning building in my butt, as Mr. Ripley placed the paddle low on my butt, and pushed in. He then hit me there twice in quick succession. This was in the same area (bottom of the butt) where Ray loved to hit. I was especially sensitive there, and screamed out in pain with each hit. I received two more swats, but don't remember much about them, except that I was fascinated watching my penis and bag bob back and forth with each stroke. I was sent back to my homeroom with a note.
I showed Mr. Williams my note, and he asked me if I remembered what he had said at the first of the year. I said I did, and then asked him if I could tell him something. I wanted to tell him that I had already gotten it from Ray, and Mr. Ripley, and would get it again from Ray when I got home. I wanted to ask for leniency or at the least, to get it tomorrow. He would not listen to any excuses, and pulled out a chair and stuck it in front of the room, in the middle, by the blackboard. He then went to the closet to fetch his big paddle, and told me to drop my pants and bend over the chair. I don't know if it was just habit, or the fact that I was in some sort of shock, or what, but I undid my pants, and pulled them AND my underpants down and bent over the chair. I heard gasps and giggles from the other kids, as they not only saw my bare butt, but the obvious marks all over it. Mr. Williams turned to see what the ruckus was about, and told me to pull my underpants up. He asked me what I had been thinking, and since I couldn't answer, he said he would have to teach me something about modesty. I pulled up my undies, and bent over the chair. He stared at me for a minute, and then proceeded to give me ten swats in a rapid fire action, right in the center of my butt. I cried and screamed out in pain, as the heat of this suprisingly quick barage of swats took over. He then walked over, and put away the paddle. I still stood bent over the chair. He came over, sat on the chair, and bent me over his lap. He said something about teaching modesty, and pulled my underpants up tight (in a sort of "wedgie"), exposing my brilliantly red (or so the kids said) little cheeks to his gaze. He whistled, and said that it looked like someone had had a field day on my butt. He rested his hand there, then proceeded to lightly spank my butt, mostly down low. He then stood me up, and with my pands still down, and cheeks still showin, made me stand in the corner for an hour. Luckily, you couldn't see me from outside the room, and nobody came in from outside.
On the way home in the bus, the kids were rowdy, and threw paper airplanes back and forth. When we arrived at PCA, we were not let of of the bus. The driver went to the office. The assistant headmaster, Mrs. Smith, who was also in charge of the girls dorms, came out carrying a very thin belt. She had us get off of the bus one person at a time, and proceeded to whack us across our seats ten times each with her belt, which stung like the devil, but not nearly as bad as Ray's strap. The girls were all bawling their eyes out, but I didn't see any of the boys crying. We were quite subdued as we entered our dorm.
I went into Ray's office and handed him the note from Mr. Ripley. In the spirit of boys everywhere, my dorm-mates gathered in the doorway to watch me "get it". I felt sick to my stomach, as I undid my pants (it was becoming a habit!), and pulled them off over my shoes. I then followed with my white briefs, until I was standing in an undershirt, white dress shirt, socks and shoes, nothing more. I walked to Ray's desk, and pulled myself up, grabbing the far side, without having to be told. I then spread my legs wide, and awaited his strap. I heard Ray behind me, and soon felt his anger as he applied stroke after angry stroke up and down my cheeks. Over and over the strap left its mark on my little butt. Sometimes it would cover just my right cheek, then it would hit just my left cheek, then it seemed to go up and down the area of my butt crack. I only know it hurt. I was kicking and screaming as Ray laid the strap down, and told me to get down and turn around. When I did this, he grabbed me under the arms, and lifted me up onto his desk. He then pushed me down until I was on my back. He grabbed my legs, and pulled my butt forward until it overhung the desk edge. He then lifted my legs high, pulled them apart, and made me hold them back by my head, which had the effect of raising my butt slightly off of the desk top. Completely exposed, I marveled at the sight of my penis, as it sprang to attention (I had no idea why). I could see my bag, and tried to squeeze it together to pull it down out of the way. Ray was standing at the foot, near my butt. He placed the strap on my crack, and stepped back. He raised the strap over his head and brought it down so that it hit right into my hole. I arched my back in pain, as the strap burned my little hole, and the inside area of my butt crack. In arching, I presented him with a clearer target, and he hit me again in the same spot. I was moving around now, trying ease the pain, when the third stroke hit just below my waving balls, in the perineum, which is extreemly sensitive. I would carry the mark from that stroke for two weeks. Ray told me to stay still, and proceeded to smash my butt hole five more times. I had eased up on the stretching of my legs, and actually caught the strap when it entered my hole on his last stroke. This seemed to anger him, and he forced my legs apart, and whacked my hole with his hand ten times. Finally, he just left the room. I laid on his desk fully exposed for several minutes, waiting for the waves of white hot pain to leave. Finally, I scooted off of the desk, and carrying my clothes, went to my bunk where I laid down on my stomach and went to sleep. One of my friends covered my still bright red butt with a blanket, and little Eric from across the room brought me some pieces of cucumber from his salad. He told me to rub them on my butt, which I did. They felt good, but I still carried marks from Black Tuesday for weeks!