BBFC: Viktor Late

Although the House knaves know senior Sir, a veteran, as the very model of a modern major-general in the matter and manner of military mania for meticulous order and regularity, like their acribic chores rosters, they still know when a Sir (or any mandated man) says jump, you don’t hesitate, let alone backtalk, at most ask “Sir, how high, Sir?”. Today Teodor ordered all, surprised, to report half an hour after dessert for instructions on ‘volunteering’ squirts-suitable solidarity contributions to the Ukrainian war cause.
While the others were relieved to find it was merely a long list of petitions and a few marching demonstrations in the city, starting stat, bovine brain ditched the briefing, believing it a smart way out to sneak out and sneak back in late, somehow hoping the worst would be over by then. Now however, the others rather enjoy a relatively free ‘day out’, and he’s caught by strict Sir, who immediately orders him OTK, which he should by now know from ample frockless-fanny-flogged experience is far too easy to be more then a prelude to proper CP.
While he even entertains the futile hope, after his ride OTK to be simply sent red-reared, tails-throbbing to join his mates, Teodor had (too much) time to think up a tricky truancy turnabout. After contacting all frats in the city, Sir volunteered Viktor, explicitly bare-balls or jock-strap-only, for those mounting public spanking boots on weekends and holidays during the war, all proceeds to Ukraine, while from the rest, and several strict prep schools, enough showed interest already to sign up Viktor for private venue equivalents on most school days for months, with options for many more if the war drags on.
So at least, and at last, the only House brat too dense ever to care for politics will most passionately be praying for peace to prevent protracting pittiless perpetuity of public-pleasing perfectly-perilously-presented-pantless-puerile-posterior-pain-purple-poundings, programmed for the priced ‘priceless’ pleasure his posterior pain provides a predatory public to provide proceeds to parttake in programs to provide for the poor persecuted people, a point of proper pride for his pitiless pitiful-privates-privacy-privated-purole-painings-plenitude-programming preceptor, paid with his plentifully-pounded pains. His housemates are even encourageded to pass-by such spanking-venues after demonstrations and spend their thereto-doubled pittance remaining allowance pennies to pound him profusely to kick-off (his long-suffering room elder in fact throwing in some nasty ‘free kicks’ boyhood-bullseye) the events at schools where non-CP-acquainted people may be shy to start.
Unlike the smarter Seniors, he doesn’t realize yet this probably inspires senior Sir to send the public-pleasing anyway for other good causes, then half being the House treasury, even in the war ends, fearing only he may consider compounding the cash-gain by adding absolutely-abject-adolescent-ass-arses.