A letter I did not get to write. By Carmen Portugal

Principal Mark Fenwick
Michael Power-St. Joseph High School
105 Eringate DriveEtobicoke,
ON M9C 3Z7

From: Carmen Portugal, Grade 13 Student

September 25, 1995

Regarding: Deceptive Conduct, Breach of Confidentiality, and Harassment by School Chaplain

Dear Principal Fenwick,

I am writing this letter to formally report a deeply distressing incident involving the school chaplain, Sister Marie Howorth, and my guidance counselor. This situation was handled with complete deception, violated my privacy, and has caused me such severe psychological harm that I no longer feel safe at school. Recently, I published a poem in the school newspaper honoring Jane, a former student who passed away suddenly of an illness in the 1980s. I wrote this piece out of genuine admiration for her memory and a desire to celebrate a bright light in our school’s history. On September 25, 1995, Sister Marie Howorth had me summoned directly out of my classroom for an unsolicited meeting. When I asked her what the meeting was about, she dismissed my question, saying, “Oh, just something.” In light of what followed, this response was a deliberate deception. I was misled into her office under false pretenses and forced into a private conversation about family trauma. Without warning. Without my consent. As an 18 year old, this is a violation of my autonomy.

As soon as the meeting began, Sister Marie Howorth immediately attacked my character, telling me, “You know you wear a mask.” She did not explain to me what she meant by this statement, leaving me to feel judged, confused, and defensive before she even explained why I was there. This unprovoked, highly damaging psychological label had an immediate negative impact on me.She then proceeded to ambush me with my private family history. She did not tell me how she knew this information until I asked, at which point she revealed it was my guidance counselor who told her. Sister Marie Howorth looked at me and asked directly: “Carmen, you wrote in your poem that Jane’s death was sudden. Now Carmen, your father died, was that sudden?”This question was unconscionably cruel and a profound violation of my emotional safety. f To hear those words from a school chaplain—someone representing spiritual care and the authority of God—felt like a clinical cross-examination and a predatory ambush. It was a complete violation of my boundaries to have my private childhood history dragged into the light without my permission, stripped of context, and used against me like an interrogation tactic.The question was cruel because it reduced my genuine artistic inspiration and admiration for Jane into a cheap, traumatic stereotype. By forcing a jarring, completely false comparison between Jane’s tragic death and my own past, Sister Marie Howorth attempted to rewrite my reality. She completely invalidated my real intentions, treating my talent not as a gift, but as a symptom of damage. She used my father’s history as a weapon to dissect my mind, rather than treating me with basic human decency.When I tried to explain my poem, Sister Marie Howorth refused to listen. At one point, I got so upset by her aggressive tone that I told her I was sorry I ever wrote the poem. Sister Marie Howorth saw my acute distress, yet she completely ignored my pain and continued to ask me prodding questions in regard to why I noticed Jane, saying, “What made you notice Jane? There must have been something that made you notice her.”There was absolutely no excuse for Sister Marie Howorth to treat me this way. If she had a concern with me, or if someone else on staff did, this was entirely the wrong way to address it. Here is why:She chose deception over transparency: If a chaplain is genuinely concerned about a student’s emotional well-being, they approach them with honesty. Sneaking me out of class under false pretenses and hiding how she obtained my private records destroyed any possibility of pastoral trust. She substituted counseling with an interrogation: True care requires listening. Instead of asking me how I was doing, she came to the meeting with a preconceived verdict. She tried to force my life into her own narrative, completely ignoring my actual thoughts and experiences. She weaponized a student’s distress: When a student becomes so visibly upset that they regret their own creative work, a responsible educator stops. Continuing to probe and press a student who is in acute distress is not guidance; it is psychological harassment.This interaction has caused me severe harm in the following ways:Severe Loss of Safety: I am writing to tell you directly that as a result of this incident, I do not feel safe at school. I now feel constantly watched, evaluated based on gossip, and unsafe walking the hallways.Deception and Emotional Distress: Being summoned out of class under a lie, immediately told I “wear a mask” without explanation, and then interrogated while visibly upset was a traumatic experience. Sister Marie Howorth chose to press into my boundaries rather than offer pastoral care.

Breach of Confidentiality: My guidance counselor had no ethical right to share my personal family file with the chaplain, and Sister Marie Howorth had no right to weaponize that information to ambush me

Censorship of My Voice: Because of this invasive behavior, I feel I must completely stop contributing to the school newspaper or expressing myself creatively just to protect myself from the staff.

Sister Marie Howorth’s approach was an interrogation that violated my rights as an 18-year-old student. I request an immediate formal meeting with you to address this breach of safety, hold the counselor accountable for sharing my file, and ensure Sister Marie Howorth is instructed to never approach me again.

Sincerely, Carmen Portugal Grade 13

New Confession
Mother made me take my pants down in front of her guests. She had five friends around the table and several of them had brought along their daughters who are my age and in my class at school. I had to take my pants down in front of them and then be punished while they watched and smirked.

Mother didn’t like something I said and so she ordered me to go get the belt. I hesitated thinking that she didn’t mean to punish me in front of everyone, especially the girls who were my classmates. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t. I snapped out of it when I heard Mother say, “That’s an additional ten strokes. Now do you want to go get the belt or shall I make it twenty strokes?”

I went immediately to fetch the belt. I returned and knelt before Mother as I presented the belt and the hand restraints. Mother ordered me to stand up and lower my pants and underwear. I was shocked and quivering. I fumbled to undo the snap and lower the zipper to slide out of my pants. The whole room looked on. My co.ck was already stiffening in my underwear and poking up. The girls looked at my crotch and they were amused.

I took down my underwear and my co.ck sprang up, wobbling and the girls giggled. One woman said, “Oh my.” Mother told me to take off my pants and fold them neatly and place them on the chair. I obeyed. Then she put me over her knee, restrained my hands behind me and she reached under me and grabbed my balls. Mother held me in place by my balls and then she began my whipping.

They all watched my bare bottom turning red with each stroke. They heard me gasp and plead that I’d be a good boy and Mother replied, “Yes you will be a good boy when I am done with you, won’t you?” “Yes ma’am, yes ma’am,” I moaned.

Mother told me that I had interrupted her gathering and disturbed her friends. She made me thank her for each stroke. She whipped my bare bottom fifteen times and then she added the extra ten strokes I earned for hesitating when ordered to go get the belt.

I was then allowed to stand up and my swollen co.ck was dripping clear fluid out the hole and down onto my balls. One of the women said, “That thing looks bigger now than when you started.” Mother ordered me to apologize for disturbing the gathering. I stood there with my red bottom and my red face and told everyone that I was sorry for disturbing them.

Mother then ordered me to apologize to each person. She directed me to stand in front of Mrs. Bunting and apologize to her first, which I did. Mrs. Bunting looked at my throbbing, wet co.ck and then I moved over and stood in front of Mrs. Bourne, and then the others.

Mother made me apologize to each of their daughters. One girl, Brenda reached out and grabbed my wet co.ck head and asked, “Why is this thing so wet.” Mother said, “That’s the way it gets dear.” They all laughed.

Mother told me to bend over the arm of the sofa and she handed the belt to Brenda and told her add any strokes she thought I needed. Brenda was delighted and said, “Sure, he deserves more.” Becky said, “He’ll probably get wetter.” Brenda snapped the belt across my bare bottom and I howled as a second stroke and a third stroke hit. Becky took her turn and then Jeannie took the belt. Jeannie snapped it between my legs and caught my ball sac and I jumped and squirmed as they all laughed and joked.

Then Mother had me stand in middle of the room with the tears rolling down my face and the clear liquid rolling down my purple, bulging shaft. My co.ck stayed hard for twenty minutes. It wobbled about as the girls touched it. Jennifer borrowed her mother’s camera to take a few pics, so now she and her mom have pics of me hard, sobbing with a wet erection and a red bottom.

As my co.ck started to soften, Mother asked me if I was ready to put my pa.nties on. She asked the guests if I’d look better in pink pa.nties or yellow pa.nties. They selected the yellow. I was sent to retrieve the yellow pa.nties. I returned with the frilly yellow ones with my co.ck half hard and bouncing with each step. Mother had me put on the yellow frilly pa.nties and then thank everyone for selecting them.

I was glad to have my co.ck and balls covered-up again. Jeannie soon lowered my pa.nties for another inspection. They all watched and Jeannie took a few pics. Jeannie asked about who was going to discipline me tomorrow. Mother said that Jeannie could stop by after school to do that and any other of the girls could come along too.

The next day after school I was escorted by Jeannie who told me all the way home that she was going to whip me to tears until I was begging and pleading. She did. She whipped my bare bottom harshly while Brenda watched and waited to supplement the strokes with more. Brenda was amused but Jeannie was very dedicated to inflicting as much pain as she could.

After being whipped two days in a row my bottom was sore. My balls ached too. Jennifer still has the pics and so does Jeannie. Jeannie has made many after school visits to keep me disciplined with Mother’s consent. The two of them have a friendly relation. Jeannie is very demanding, like my Mother. Jeannie really enjoys using the leather belt and she said she feels good and she feels relieved after disciplining me.

I got a whipping from Jeannie today. I’m sure she’ll walk me home tomorrow and all the way she’ll tell me how she’s going to snap my balls with the belt, make my co.ck turn purple and my bare bottom welted from her strokes.

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