Pettifer: The Gay Disciplinarian

by Jason Land

29 Mar 2018 2070 readers Score 9.2 (16 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt


PETTIFER: THE GAY DISCIPLINARIAN

An Erotic Short Story

by 

Jason Land

This is the second of a group of three related stories: 

Petty Officer Pettifer
Pettifer the Gay Disciplinarian
Kevin Pettifer – The Warden 

They are all stand alone stories but are best if read in the order listed above.


CHAPTER 1

Together with Connor Black, my best friend, to whom I shall be eternally grateful for helping me to find my true sexuality, I was on my way to Dartmouth where both Connor and I had had the good fortune to be selected for a senior Navel Cadet Training Programme.  Connor, whom I had met, some months earlier, on a two-day selection programme for this same cadet course, on which we were now about to embark, had quickly divined that I was a hesitant gay virgin and had taken me in hand. As a result of his generous ministrations, I had, in the course of a few short months, found, recognised and accepted my true sexuality; so much so that I was now completely at ease as an sexually active, gay young man.

Connor was my sex mentor and chief lover, but as he pointed out to me, we did not own each other and so we both enjoyed the company of, and having sex with, a variety of other like minded guys. In fact, since I had met Connor, my life had been what I suppose someone of poetic disposition might have qualified as “idyllic”; although just thinking about the very active and vigorous sex-life Connor and I, together with other like-minded friends led, idyllic was possibly a bad choice of word to describe what happened when we got together. But certainly those few months since I had met Connor had been the happiest in my life and as we sat together in the train going towards Exeter, I had a huge feeling of relief that I was leaving behind forever the last vestiges of what had been my miserable working-class life in a slummy area of Bradford in the north of England.

It really was by the greatest stroke of good luck that we two had been thrown together on those two selection days; for some reason we had been give a bedroom together, whilst the others bunked in dormitories of six or so guys. Without that hand of fate I might well have been bunking with several other guys and could still have been wondering about myself and sex. I had long realised that girls were not for me; but I had taken no steps to explore a relationship with another man; in fact, I had had no idea how to set about it. And it was just this chance privacy which had allowed a very perceptive Connor to take me in hand and make me recognise my true sexuality. I owe everything to him, for which I shall be ever grateful; he was a brilliant and understanding teacher and ultimately we two became very happy and active sex partners.  I have not used the word lover, as I am not sure that I knew what it felt like to be in love; but I enjoyed sex with Connor tremendously; he changed my life.

We finally arrived at the barracks in Dartmouth, where we learned that the Naval Cadet Course on which we were embarking was truly exceptional. The Dartmouth facility was usually reserved exclusively for cadets who were aiming to become commissioned officers in the Royal Navy and not for the likes of us, who were, at best, ultimately destined to become non-commissioned officers.  The British Royal Navy, you will all understand, was, and still is, very class conscious, even in the twenty-first century; so the three levels of ranking were still rigidly adhered to.  The lowest were the ratings, the regular sailors, followed by the non-commissioned officers who were beneath the commissioned ranks.  All this I learned over the first few weeks of training.

On arrival we were assigned to our quarters and here something which neither Connor nor I had thought of occurred. I suppose we had somehow imagined, if we had imagined anything at all, that we two would once again bunk together in a snug room for two. But this was not to be, for we found ourselves allocated to two separate six-man dormitories along with other lads whom we did not know. Of course, apart from Connor I knew no one else; we were all just young lads from all over the country who had been thrown together on the cadet course. Initially this posed a problem for Connor and me as we both wanted to be able to continue with what had become our very active sex life together and here we were faced with a totally unexpected and undesirable separation.  But where there’s a will there’s a way and after a bit of juggling Connor and I managed to finish up in the same dormitory; not ideal of course, as we really wanted to be on our own together, but certainly better than being totally separated.

The burning question for both of us was to determine whether any of our dormitory mates were of the same sexual persuasion as us.  The total intake of cadets for the course was about sixty and it seemed to me very unlikely that Connor and I were the only gay guys among them, for the Navy is a notorious haven for men of our orientation; in fact, after a couple of weeks, by which time we had worked out what was what among the cadets, by a bit of shuffling around with some of the other dormitories, Connor and I had managed to put together a six-man gay dormitory. We also had a good idea as to which of our other “straight” co-cadets were not averse to a little male-male sex, even though they were not like the six of us, who were all died-in-the-wool gays. Years later,  it never ceases to amaze me how many so called “straight” men, quite enjoy a little “anal stimulation”  and are not averse, given half a chance, to exercising their own cocks on a receptive arse.

So although there was no total privacy for any of us, we were among like-minded guys who wanted much the same as we did – to have sex with each other – and so the six of us soon came to an understanding of how to behave towards each other and regular sex was not a problem. I have to say that I was relieved that the sex question had been so easily settled as it had become such an important part of my existence that I could no longer go for long without it. As Connor had said before we were in Dartmouth, we two did not own each other and although we were very close, we both enjoyed the occasional sexual adventure with others. So the six of us in our dormitory soon came to an understanding and sex was mutually available among all of us.

By the end of the first month, the six of us had become a well-defined gay fraternity on the course; we had all fucked the others and been fucked by them in turn.  I was relieved that my sex life had been so easy to arrange, for gay sex had become, in a very short time, and important and indispensable part of my life.  And I am happy to say that many of the so-called straight cadets, cut off from female company, were happy to satisfy their own sexual appetites by indulging themselves with the likes of us. So all in all living in a totally male environment was just about as good as it could have been for me.

CHAPTER 2

I have dwelt on the sexual aspects of my life, as these were, an still are, very important to me; But the cadet training course was not about sex, but about turning a set of inexperienced youths into disciplined men who would eventually be worthy of the rank of non-commissioned officer: the go-betweens between the commands issued by the commissioned officers and the ratings who had to carry out the orders. To say we were on a naval training course, we never even glimpsed the sea; we were in barracks on the edge of town the whole time. And it was the proximity of the town and the allure of what it might hold in store for us, which led to the first clash with naval authority and a dose of naval discipline for Connor and me; and allow me tell you that naval discipline was not a very pleasant experience at all.

Connor had a very finely tuned antenna and picked up information like a sponge picks up water.  He had somehow learned (ask me not how) that here was a gay-club down town and he dearly wanted to escape for the camp to explore its hidden delights, if such there really were. Anyway, he and I sneaked out of the barracks one Saturday evening, went into town, found the club and I suppose that it is true to say that we had a ball. There was lots of sex going on and we were able to join in a six man-group sex effort, which in spite of ample sex in barracks, was quite exhilarating.  However, what turned out to be less than exhilarating was the sequel.

At about three in the morning, we crept back into the barracks only to be pulled up by the guard on gate duty. How had we sneaked out in the first place without him seeing us? I don’t actually know; but he put us on a report for the following morning: Sunday, to appear in front of the commanding officer.  Now we had, along with most others, been subjected to all sorts of disciplinary actions during training. You know the sort of thing; the instructor of whatever it is you are doing at the moment, decides you are underperforming and makes you do thirty push-ups in front of your mates; or makes you repeat an assault course when you are already tired out or whatever. It turned out that real naval life, at least where we were, was, in fact, much as depicted in films: unpleasant but not particularly painful. But this time it was to be painfully different.

We were marched by the adjutant before the commanding office, one Commander Scott-Brady. “Cadet Black, Cadet Pettifer, you were both absent from the barracks without leave on Saturday evening.  You will both report to the changing rooms adjacent to the showers for the punishment parade on Monday evening at eight o’clock.  The penalty for being absent without leave is fifteen strokes of the cane. That is all. Dismissed.”  So that was it. No questions about what we had been doing; no request for an explanation or for an excuse. This was my first encounter with the cut and dried rules of the Navy and how rigidly they were enforced; a rule was a rule; break it and you were punished. It was as simple as that!

When the Commanding Officer said: “fifteen strokes of the cane,” my blood ran cold. During our selection interviews punishment parades and corporal punishment had never been mentioned and now here we were the two of us, each sentenced to fifteen strokes of the cane.  This was the first time I had heard that the Navy still used corporal punishment but as I later learned it had been reintroduced into the schools, the juvenile courts, the prison service, approved schools and the armed forces some few years previously as a means of combating ever increasing violence, especially among young offenders. The Royal Navy, which had long mourned the ban on the corporal punishment, had been overjoyed by the change in the law and had welcomed the return of the cane and the birch with open arms. And as Connor and I were to find out on Monday evening, at Dartmouth the cane was alive and in rigorous good health and would shortly have the very doubtful pleasure of feeling its effects on our backsides.

Neither Connor nor I had ever experienced any form of corporal punishment. However, my own experiences with my sex partner Jonathan Singleton, the Bradford solicitor whose naked arse I had, at his request thrashed many times with a rattan cane over the past few months, had taught me that even though I did not mind wielding the cane on someone else, I certainly did not want to feel it landing on my own arse. In thrashing Jonathan, I had seen the damage that a well applied rattan cane could do to a guy’s naked arse and I shuddered to think that I would soon be experiencing the very same thing.

I flatter myself that as a novice at caning, my efforts on Jonathan’s arse had been well applied. Now Jonathan had enjoyed having is arse beaten; it was he who had persuaded me to do it and he truly relished it. But once he had persuaded me to beat him and I had got started, I have to admit that as a reluctant flagellator initially, I quickly found I derived considerable pleasure in having acceded to his wishes.   Should it have given me pleasure or not? Should I feel guilty or ashamed of my actions? I am not sure; but I did not feel either sentiment; so there it was; I finally admitted to myself that I had really enjoyed roasting Jonathan’s arse, which had become a weekly event to which I looked forward whilst I was still living in Bradford.

I had, of course, also had the additional pleasure of fucking Jonathan straight after the caning, which certainly added spice to what was already, for me at least, a very erotic experience. Once again it was Jonathan who had insisted that I fuck him immediately each time after his beating and I cannot deny that that too gave me great pleasure. Looking back, the most erotic experience I had had with Jonathan was when I fucked him bare-back with my newly circumcised cock.   You will remember that I had had problems in having bare-back sex with him due to the excessive amount of foreskin with which I was naturally endowed.

Well Jonathan was the first of my partners to experience my “remodelled” tool. He always insisted on bare-back sex and I reluctantly refrained from using a condom to please him. I can tell you that that first time when my naked cock-head penetrated his anal sphincter and the long shaft of my well lubricated cock slid smoothly inside him, was a moment of sheer, unadulterated pleasure for me; it took anal copulation to new heights; heights I had never dreamed until that moment existed. Bareback sex, I discovered, was incomparably better than fucking arse with a condom clothed cock. But Jonathan was the only person with whom I ever indulged in unprotected anal intercourse.

But now it was me who was to have my arse beaten, but beaten without the added pleasure of the sexual sequel.  The prospect was just too awful to contemplate, for I knew first-hand exactly how much damage a well-wielded cane could do to a guy’s backside. But there it was; that was exactly what was going to happen to me (and, of course, to Connor too) on Monday evening; and there was not one damned thing we could do to avoid it. This was truly going to be one of those awful moments in life, when a guy just has to grit his teeth and grin and bear it; I really hoped that I could and would not show myself up as a wimp when the cane bit into my naked arse.

Connor and I spent a very uneasy Sunday and Monday, as the prospect of what we were about to suffer weighed heavily on both of us. I don’t think Connor had any idea of the extent of the damage which was to be visited upon his arse as he had absolutely no experience of the cane.  I for my part, thought it better not to tell him of my own experiences with Jonathan as there seemed little point in adding to his nervous anxiety.  In due course he would find out all too well just what an awful experience the cane was. At supper on Monday I could hardly bring myself to eat anything at all as the fatidic moment approached when we would have to report for punishment. The nervous tension continued to build up and finally came to a climax when the whole mess was made aware of what was about to happen.

The adjutant in charge stood up at the end of the meal and announced the names of the cadets who were to report for punishment parade at eight that evening.  Connor’s and my names were the first to be read out and then there was a slight pause before three other cadets whom I knew only by sight were also slated to join us. A deathly hush fell over the room as this was the first time that most of the lads learned that a formal punishment parade existed. I guess that most of the cadets were unaware of the existence of such a formal procedure, as we had been until we had been caught absent without leave.

Most of the cadets were ignorant of the fact that both the cane and birch were alive and well in the Royal Navy and that given a slip-up on their part either one or other of these devastatingly painful implements could well be visited on their own arses.  In fact I doubt that any of my co-cadets were even aware of the fact that corporal punishment had been reintroduced into society, just a few years ago, by the British Government in effort to reintroduce a semblance of order among the uncontrollable and unanswerable youth of the day.

 

Promptly at eight, for this was not an occasion to be late, the five of us assembled outside the changing rooms. The adjutant, the senior gym instructor who was also the Chief Disciplinarian of the camp, a PO called Brian Thresher, and two very muscular looking regular sailors were already waiting for us.  Not surprisingly Thresher’s nick-name was, of course, The Thrasher. The adjutant gave the order: “Right you lot; into the changing rooms, get stripped and then into the showers.” This was the moment when I realised that we were about to follow a protocol laid down in the regulations; it was the dawning that in the Navy everything was done by the book and to the letter; no deviations were allowed or tolerated. After five or so minutes under the showers, we were ordered to dry ourselves off and each of us was handed a skimpy pair of shorts and told to put them on.

So there we all stood, naked apart from our shorts, awaiting the next order.  “Cadets; forward face; right turn and and quick march.” Down the corridor we went to the gymnasium, where we were ordered to stand to attention in a straight line against the wall.  Preparations had already been made for what was about to be visited upon us.  A wooden beating horse, the legs of which were equipped with leather restraining straps, stood awaiting its first victim in the centre of the room. Neither I nor any of the others had ever seen such a contraption before but it was quite obvious what it was used for. On a side table lay a number of long, vicious-looking rattan canes. To my horror I saw that two buckets of water, each containing two birch rod, rods stood to one side. 

Thresher, whom we all knew quite well as we were in regular PE classes under his supervision, was a very muscular young man with a powerful physique of which he was inordinately proud.  In the gym he never asked any of us to do anything which he himself could not do much better. But he had a real mean streak and in the gym took great delight in flicking the arse of any cadet who displeased him with a leather strap which, in common with many men of his profession, he always seem to have to hand.

This evening he was wearing a small pair of tight fitting shorts, which moulded themselves to his well rounded buttocks as if he had poured himself into them. The shorts also emphasised his considerable package. I had never ever seen the guy naked, but it was obvious that here was a man who was sexually very well-endowed indeed: a man who knew he had it and who was clearly not ashamed to flaunt it. His outfit this evening was completed by a figure-fitting, sleeveless vest, which emphasised his magnificent pectoral muscles and left his muscular arms in clear view. All in all, Thresher was a very sexy looking guy and on another occasion I would have been tempted to see how far I far I could go with him, for even now, just looking at him, I could feel my cock stirring in my own shorts; in a word, given the right occasion and opportunity, I would very happily fuck him and let him in turn fuck me. But this was not the occasion and such thoughts disappeared from my mind as I contemplated what he was about to do to us. However, as things ultimately developed beating arses was not all that Thresher had in mind

The adjutant looked at the charge sheet on his clip-board:  “Cadet Thomas, step forward.  You have been sentenced to nine strokes of the birch for sleeping whilst on guard duty. Take off your shorts; step forward to the horse and bend across it.” As he heard these orders, Cadet Thomas blanched visibly, for I doubt that he had realised until this very moment that he was going to be birched naked. Like the rest of us, Thomas had had no experience of corporal punishment of any kind in his life to date and today was to be a baptism of fire for all of us in which he was to be the first to be “anointed”.

“Sir, do I really have to take off my shorts, sir? It seems indecent to make me bend across the horse totally naked. Could I not keep my shorts on sir?”

“Cadet, I have just given you an order and orders in the British Navy are to obeyed without question; even more so when that order is given to someone who is on a charge, as you presently are. Now cadet, unless you want me to up the number of strokes of the birch you are to received from nine to a round dozen, drop your shorts, bend across the horse and let’s get on with the punishment. Unless you had not noticed, there are four other cadets eagerly awaiting their turn and we don’t have all night.” I doubt that any of the four of us waiting would have ventured to describe ourselves as eager; apprehensive or terrified would have been a better choice of words.

Trembling visibly, Thomas did as he was bidden and on a nod from the adjutant, the two young sailors quickly strapped his wrists and ankles to the horse, thereby rendering him immobile. PO Thresher now pulled one of the birches from its bucket, shook it vigorously to get rid of some of the water and placed himself on Thomas’s left.  The adjutant called out the first stroke: one!  Thresher raised the birch well above his shoulder and brought it smashing down in the middle of the cadet’ naked arse.  I cannot find the words to describe the sound a bunch of birch twigs makes when it mates with the solid backside of a young man, but it is quite frightening  and once heard is never  forgotten.  Thomas let out his first howl of pain.

The adjutant waited some ten to fifteen seconds before calling the second stroke and so it went on from there; stroke after horrible stroke, each separated from the next by what seemed an endless pause until all nine cuts had been administered. Thomas became more and more vocal as the birching proceeded and the pain mounted. By the time Thresher had finished with him he was weeping uncontrollably and his arse was a bright crimson colour all over, flecked with small bruises where the individual twigs had cut into his naked flesh.

Looking at Thomas’s naked arse, it was easy to see where the expression “well-roasted” came from, as not one square inch of his buttocks remained untouched by the birch. His buttocks were reminiscent of the breast of a chicken which had been well basted during roasting in the oven. The difference was that his two buns were bright red and flecked with small bruises from which a few drops of blood were oozing, whereas the chicken would have been an appetising brown.

After watching this first beating, my cock was already fully hard and tenting against my shorts. A quick glance at the other cadets indicated that the birching had had the same effect on them and I saw that both PO Thresher and the two young sailors were also sporting hard cocks.  So the highly erotic nature of the birching had stimulated all of us. I suppose it was comforting in a way to know that my own spontaneous and uncontrollable reaction to this barbaric onslaught on a naked arse was not unique: I was not at all abnormal.

The adjutant motioned to the sailors to release Thomas from the horse and said:  “That’s it for today cadet; that’s your lot; up you get and put back on your shorts and go and stand in-line at attention against the wall.”  Cadet Thomas was in such agony that he could barely walk straight and try as he might, he did not succeed in getting back into his snorts as it proved too painful an exercise. And so the adjutant motioned to him to leave his shorts on the floor and to stand there stark-naked against the wall along with the other four of us waiting to be punished. Any embarrassment he might have felt earlier about exposing his private man-meat to all and sundry had now disappeared; he was just in too much pain to care about such a detail anymore.

I glanced sideways at my three, soon to be beaten companions and saw that all of them had gone as white as a sheet just watching Thomas take his birching. In fact, I was the only cadet there who had any experience at all of what corporal punishment entailed and just now painful it could be; my experiences with Jonathan had taught me that much; but then I had been the beater and not the beaten and now I felt my blood beginning to curdle in my veins at the thought of what was still to follow, not the least of which would be visited on my own, soon-to-be-naked arse.

The adjutant looked down his list and motioned to Cadet Allison to step forward. “Cadet Allison, you will receive nine strokes of the birch for smoking when on guard duty.  Now look lively, lad, drop your shorts and bend over the horse and let’s get on with it.”  Allison stood there transfixed with fear; he was trembling like a leaf and simply could not move. The adjutant was clearly in no mood to brook any disobedience as he said: “Cadet I just gave you an order and I expect you to obey it.” Allison still did not move. 

The adjutant, who clearly had no patience at all and expected immediate action when he gave an order, motioned to the two young sailors, who bodily lifted Allison over the horse and ripped down his shorts and strapped him in position. “Cadet Allison, you just refused to obey a direct order and for that reason you will receive an extra three strokes of the birch.” And so the poor petrified Allison found himself strapped across the horse waiting for a twelve stroke birching.

I won’t go into details of Allison’s birching, other than to say that the poor lad howled loudly throughout the entire process and begged in vain for Thresher to stop.  By the time he was let down from the horse his arse was bright red and flecked with small welts and he was weeping buckets.  One had to feel sorry for him; at least I did; for twelve cuts of the birch seemed to me excessive for the crime he had committed. The next lad, Cadet Johnson, was despatched pretty quickly. I forget now what fault he had committed, but the birch was was now abandoned in favour of the cane and he got only six strokes.

However, watching Thresher apply the cane made me realise that birch or cane, it did not really matter much; Thresher was an expert with both weapons and the target arse was given a beating to remember. Just watching Thresher thrash Johnson’s arse with the cane, made me realise that he was in a different league to me when it came to administering punishment: he was a professional and I had been a mere beginner when I looked back at what I had done to Jonathan.

The adjutant now came to Connor and me. Connor was called first and I was sort of relieved for him as I did not want him to see me suffer in the knowledge that in a few minutes he would meet the same fate. After twelve cuts of the cane, from Thresher, his arse was fully corrugated, lined with deep welts punctuated in a few places by drops of blood where the skin had been broken. The adjutant then called me to the horse which I prepared to mount. But now came an unexpected change in the proceedings.

Instructor Thresher, who was the senior officer present, ordered the adjutant and the two sailors to march the other four cadets back to the changing room where the doctor was on hand to take a look at their damaged backsides and, if needed, apply a little antiseptic. In my wildest imagination I wondered if the doctor would, in fact rub salt into their wounds as a cheap antiseptic. But this was just a flight of fancy; things were unpleasant, but not quite so unpleasant.

So Thresher and I were left alone together in the gym. He ordered me to bend across the horse and strapped me down himself. I felt like telling him that I was man enough to take the punishment without being restrained, but thought better of it as Thresher was not a man to cross.  I saw that the crotch of his shorts was almost bursting at the seams with the pressure of what was obviously an enormous erection. I saw also that he was so aroused that a few telltale damp spots were showing through his shorts where his cock was clearly dribbling pre-cum. Strapped as I was across the horse, I could nevertheless feel my own cock still rock-hard and in the same moist condition as that of Instructor Thresher.  I gritted my teeth and waited for him for the first stroke; and when it came, it was a great shock, for the cane sliced down and great speed and landed more or less on the equator of my two buns. Prepared as I had been for the pain, the intensity of that first stroke surpassed even my wildest imagination; it was absolutely excruciatingly painful.

And from then on, at intervals of ten seconds or so, the cane cracked down, landing precisely where Thresher intended it to; by the time he had finished, my arse, which I did not see until later that evening in the dorm, was lined with twelve, clear, parallel welts, running from the bottom of my back to the top of my legs.  I could not believe the pain which this man had managed to visit on me.  My efforts on Jonathan’s backside paled into insignificance compared to what Thresher had delivered. One had to admit that Petty Officer Thresher, for better or for worse, was an absolute pro with the cane; and as I was about to find out, Thresher was also an absolute pro at something else, which, a few weeks later, led to the next step-change in my life.

CHAPTER 3

Like an artist contemplating his work, Thresher left me strapped across the horse for a few minutes clearly admiring his handiwork. I am sure he was inwardly congratulating himself on a job well done; but I was still strapped there in great pain and hoping that he would release me and let me get up; but it was not to be: “Cadet Pettifer, you took that very well. You will be a credit to the service and I see no reason at all why, I spite of a rather serious delinquency which brought you here today, you should not graduate with honours at the end of the course; well done lad!”  What I had done to deserve this accolade, I really had no idea but Thresher went on.  “Look lad, I’ve made a bit of a mess of your arse, so if you will just stay in that position for a few minutes I’ll rub in a bit of antiseptic cream to try to ease the pain.”

A few minutes later, he unstrapped my ankles and asked me to spread my legs and began to massage in a very pleasant feeling cream into the wounds he had just created. And then it suddenly dawned upon me what was about to happen, as his fingers went ever deeper into my crevice and eventually stretched my anal sphincter and began to explore my inner parts; that was it; Instructor Thresher had got the hots for me and was preparing to shaft me; in a word, Thresher was intent on raping me: a horrible word, but probably the right one nevertheless; Petty Officer Thresher was going to bugger my hole.

I suppose I could have protested but I said nothing. Analysing my feelings as Thresher prepared to enter me; I could see nothing of course, stretched as I was across the horse with my wrists still strapped down; but being brutally honest with myself, I knew that I would really quite like him to fuck me with what I had already divined to be his sizeable cock. Even though my arse was still hurting like hell, I thought that a well applied dose of anal intercourse might well be the ultimate complement to the thrashing I had just received.  After all, Jonathan, whom I had at first reluctantly thrashed at his behest and then gone on to fuck him immediately afterwards, had revelled in having the combination of pain followed by the pleasure of copulation visited on him in quick succession.  So might it not be the same for me?

So I rationalised what I perceived to be the inevitable decided to “relax and enjoy it.” Realistically, of course, I didn’t have any option; strapped down as I was, I was totally at Thresher’s mercy. Not a word was said by Thresher during all this, let’s call it, foreplay; but he suddenly stopped massaging cream into my arse and anus and there was a slight pause as I heard the sound of him stepping out of those revealingly tight shorts that I had found so very alluring.  

I had not long to wait, for the next thing I felt was what could have been his finger pressing once again against my anal sphincter; but it was of course the head of his cock. As he forced himself into me, I realised what a large girth Thresher had as I felt my sphincter stretched in a way I had never before experienced. And let’s face it, in my short but hyperactive gay sex-life, I had managed to take quite a number of different cocks up my arse, so I was totally at home with anal intercourse and realised immediately that this was a “big-one”.

But not only was this a massive piece of man-meat which was being thrust into me, for Thresher was quite different.  His cock had authority and once that massive head was past my sphincter and inside me, he he did not hesitate as he slid his long shaft smoothly but firmly to its limit into my rectum. Thresher simply knew how to take sex to a different level to that which I had hitherto experienced it with any of my various partners, Connor included.  He pumped and thrust his cock with ever increasing power and length of stroke, harder and harder into my arse. With each stroke he ground his pelvis forcefully against my my arse, which he himself had just roasted; and let me be totally honest with you and say that I enjoyed every minute of it.  Somehow the combination of the extreme pain I had endured and the vigorous fuck I was now receiving combined to make a perfect experience, which I found myself totally enjoying.

Talk about masochism, then this in my short active sex life to date, was the nearest I had come to it.  I suppose, strictly speaking, that masochism is not the right word, for it implies that the person himself sought the suffering he is receiving. However, if Thresher had asked my permission to fuck me as he was now doing, I would gladly have consented. This was of course a fact of which he, in the middle of a vigorous and passionate act of copulation over which he by now had no control, was totally unaware at the time.

 

Finally Thresher gave one last mighty thrust before withdrawing his cock completely from my hole and spraying my arse with what seemed a never-ending stream of thick creamy sperm.  Simultaneously, I too climaxed and shot my wad all over the floor of the gym. I am not sure whether Thresher was responsible for my orgasm as I had been so horny ever since the beatings had started and sooner or later I had known I was destined to climax as I had just done.

For a few minutes, neither of us moved. I think Thresher was exhausted with his efforts and frankly, so was I, even though I had been the recipient of everything which had just happened. So far neither us had said a word; the last thing that had been said was Thresher telling me that he would anoint my arse with ointment, after which everything had been done without another word being spoken. I was still strapped over the beating horse, and Thresher now undid my wrists and I was able to stand up. Much as I had enjoyed what had just occurred, my arse still was on fire and I realised that I was going to feel the effects of the beating for several days.

But now, standing there naked as I now was, with my cock fully erect and menacingly pointing at him, I saw Thresher in all his naked glory for the first time, for he had shed not only his shorts but also his vest. Whatever his character, he was sexually a highly attractive young man, barely much older than me. As a professional PE instructor, he clearly took care of his own body, which was well proportioned and beautifully muscular. But then I came to that cock which he had just used on me; and what a magnificent tool it was!

As I had suspected, Thresher had a totally exceptional piece of man-meat, beautifully proportioned and with a clear, well-defined head, which like mine had been freed of its veil of foreskin by circumcision; in a word, Thresher was a real stallion of a man.  My first thought, at this moment, as I looked upon Thresher naked for the first time, was that I wanted to fuck him immediately; I wanted to do to him what he had just done to me; he just had that luscious look which made him irresistible to another gay man and he was obviously as gay as a coot himself.

I wondered why he had allowed me to stand up and see him stripped totally naked as he was. Why had he not quickly pulled back on his shorts and vest before freeing me from the horse and allowing me to stand up? Common sense dictated to me that there had to be an ulterior motive;  and why from among the five of us had he picked me out to bugger: a harsh, unattractive word, but at the end of the day, that is exactly what he had done to me. I would have been fully in my rights to lodge a complaint against him for although I was well aware that gay-sex was part and parcel of the Navy life, it was, officially, strictly forbidden and as an NCO he had committed a criminal act against me.

But of course I had no intention of shopping the guy for what he had just done to me. Let’s face it I had thoroughly enjoyed ever moment of it and had he asked me if he could fuck me again, then I would have given him my permission; in fact I would have jumped at the prospect.  But, of course, in the strange circumstances in which we found ourselves, for him to have asked my consent was out of the question; there was no way in which he could have brought himself to ask one of his cadets if he could fuck him. And so obviously unable to control his sexual urges, a feeling I fully understood, he had grasped the bull by the horns, or, better put, me by the arse and had then gone ahead and shafted me.

So there we stood in complete silence, each totally naked, each sporting an enormous erection directly facing the other; it was as if the one were challenging the other to a duel.  I fully expected Thresher to say something, but no words came. And as I stood there gazing at this beautifully attractive man, whose marvellous cock I had just experienced, I simply could not stop myself. I dropped to my knees in front of him, took his cock-head into my mouth and started to suck him off.  He made no attempt to resist, nor did he say anything, so I continued.

After a while I stood up, took him by the shoulders spun him round and gently pushed him towards that side table on which several canes were still lying. There I put my hand on his back and exerted a little pressure to which he responded by bending forward across the table. To my great surprise, he then spread his legs, thereby giving me that unmistakable, unspoken invitation.  All this happened without a word being spoken by either of us. I reached for his tube of cream applied a liberal dose to lubricate my ever-ready cock and immediately shafted him.  I would like to think that in my ministrations to his arse that evening I was as professional and vigorous as he had been to me a few minutes earlier. I think I treated Thresher to an anal fuck with a cock which rivalled his own, for as you all already know I am myself very well endowed.

I like to to pride myself that when I fuck another man I take him all the way with me to his own climax.  And so it was today with Thresher; I increased both my stroke and power as I went along, until, totally involved in the act, I just could not hold back. I withdrew my cock several times from his anus only to re-plunge myself inside him each time with ever greater force. Finally as I felt that I was about to climax and I sensed he too was ready, I withdrew myself completely from him before thrusting my cock with the greatest force as deeply into him as I could.

My climax exploded inside him and as jerk followed jerk, I shot what seemed like an endless stream of sperm into his rectum. At the same time he himself reached orgasm and shot his load all over the table among the canes.  It was during the final stages of this extraordinary and unexpected act of copulation between a cadet and a Petty Officer, that Thresher spoke for the first time urging me on:  “Go on, go on: don’t stop, don’t stop:  fuck me as hard as you can; it’s exactly what I want.”  Well, when we both finally climaxed, I suppose that as his subordinate I had obeyed instructions and that he was pleased with the result.

Anyway, this whole, totally unreal situation had to come to an end somehow, which it did, in the most formal of ways.  When we had recovered, Thresher simply stood up, pulled on his shorts and vest as if nothing had happened and said to me:  “Put your shorts back on Cadet Pettifer.”  He then marched me formally back to the changing rooms where he told me to dress and I was then dismissed.

CHAPTER 4

I went back to my billet where Connor was waiting for me and he naturally wanted to know what had happened and why I had been so long. Luckily our co-cadets were all still in the common room and so I told him the entire story in private.  A few minutes later the others arrived and the two of us had to strip off and show them our wounds. And I have to say that although I could not get a very good look at my own arse, I did see Connor’s in all its post-beating glory if that is the word; and let me tell you that if anyone knew his job with the cane, then that man was Thresher. Both our arses were liberally spotted with blood where the cane had broken the skin and Connor’s arse looked exactly like an impressionist painting, as I guess also did mine.

As we tried to sleep that night, still in extreme pain from the caning, I saw how a thorough beating, such as Connor and I and the other three cadets had received, really was a deterrent to future bad behaviour. You had to be mad to risk undergoing again what we had just undergone; and yet time and time again, other cadets found themselves, arse naked, submitting to Thresher’s ministrations with cane or birch; some lads just could not keep out of trouble.

In fact, as the course progressed, it became evident that the cane and the birch played a permanent and regular role in life at Dartmouth.  The Navyhad taken them both to heart and had no hesitation at all in using them on any delinquent cadets. Punishment parades were a regular weekly fixture of our life and PO Thresher was kept busy exercising his duty on the naked arses of errant cadets. I resolved there and then to myself that I would endeavour to tread the straight and narrow from now on and avoid any other meeting with Thresher and his cane; but I have to admit with Thresher and his cock, I would not have said no to another meeting; this man was absolute dynamite with his fuck-stick.

But the outcome of what had happened was that the friendship between Connor and me began, slowly but surely, to fade. We did not fall out; but as time passed we had sex together less and less frequently until, by the end of the course, we were just good friends. I think the determining factor was my fucking of our instructor, the man who had just thrashed our arses to shreds and that proved just too much for Connor to stomach, in spite of his broad-minded views on multiple sex partners.

However, that beating and what had transpired subsequently between Thresher and me, did change my life again in as dramatic a way as my meeting with Connor and my first introduction to the delights of gay sex. So although I mourned privately the way that Connor and I were drifting apart, I realised that it was not the end of the world as sex was readily and abundantly available. In a word, sad though it sometimes was, life had to go on.

One of the things that had hit me as I had watched four of my fellow cadets being beaten before me was, that in spite of the fact that I myself was shortly to suffer the same fate, I had become erotically aroused and was, in fact, enjoying the spectacle of their suffering. In a certain way it palliated the inevitable sequel when I would be the one strapped across that same horse, waiting for my naked arse to be roasted courtesy of PO Thresher. In trying to analyse my feelings, I wondered if I should be ashamed of the fact that I clearly was taking pleasure at the misfortunes of others.

But looking back at my experiences with Jonathan when I had caned him I realised that once I had overcome the initial hurdle which the first stroke of the cane across his naked arse had presented, I really did enjoy what he had asked me to do to him. I also knew that whenever Thresher lashed out at other cadets in the gym with his strap, even though it was done informally,  I quite enjoyed watching his victims, my co-cadets, squirm. So I came round to the fact that I clearly had a strong sadistic streak, which was something I would just have to accept.  I could not just make it go away; banish it from my make up; it was an integral part of my character, good or bad with which I had to live.

Along with my fellow cadets, I was in daily contact with Instructor Thresher, as strenuous physical training was a daily part of our routine in camp.  In the days following the beatings, Thresher never looked at me in any special way or singled me out from the crowd, in spite of what we had done together.  So I more or less assumed that it was something that was over and done with and would never be spoken of again; a flash in the pan so to speak; but how wrong my assumption proved to be.

It was some three weeks after that fateful, arse-roasting day, when one Saturday evening, the adjutant came to me before supper and said that I was to report to PO Thresher in his quarters at eight sharp. So I went back to my billet, put on my uniform, which was not normally worn at Saturday supper, after which I was marched formally by the adjutant to present myself to Thresher.  He was sitting at his desk as I entered his office and I stood stiffly to attention in front of him saluted and said:  “You sent for me, sir.”

“Yes, Cadet Pettifer; quite right; I did send for you; stand at ease.”  This was followed by a longish silence whilst Thresher was clearly gathering his thoughts and formulating what he wanted to say to me.  I sensed from his somewhat less than formal manner that he was slightly ill-at-ease with me standing there in front of him.  This was a very different Petty Officer Thresher I was seeing today to the one who, just three weeks earlier, had thrashed my arse nearly raw with that utmost confidence conferred on him by his position. So I just waited until he finally spoke; and very hesitant he was.

“Yes Pettifer; I, er, wanted to, er, speak to you about what, er, happened the other day on punishment parade.  I, er, don’t  know how you felt when you were, er, dismissed from the parade, so I, er, sort of thought it might be appropriate if we, er, sort of touched base on what happened; if you, er, see what I mean: I, er, sort of was wondering, how you, er, felt in retrospect  about what happened.”

So that was it; he wanted to discuss we had done together after he had shredded my arse with his cane. I now saw very well what he meant, but I had no intention of helping him along in what he was clearly finding a difficult subject to talk about; so for the moment I played dumb as I answered: “Well sir, I can tell you that by the time you had finished with me, I felt pretty sore.  I had never been caned before and feeling the bite of the cane across my bare bottom was a revelation and not a very pleasant one at that, sir. I was amazed at the intensity of the pain which you managed to inflict on me, sir, but I suppose I deserved it for breaking the rules.  If I may say so sir, you really are extremely proficient in the use of the cane, sir.  Speaking, of course, as someone who has no experience, I imagine that you must rank up there with the very best, sir.”

I stopped at that point as I could see that he was looking very uncomfortable with the flattery which I frankly had spread on thickly as with a trowel; I sensed that I was momentarily in position strength as he clearly wanted to discuss our post-beating sexual activities but did not know how to begin.

“Yes, yes Pettifer: I am sure that you left in great pain, for that was and is always the objective of such unfortunate but necessary actions; but you will appreciate I was merely doing my duty as Chief Disciplinarian in this camp; carrying out the orders of my superior officer. I had no choice but to beat all five of you that evening; and beat you all very hard; it’s what the Royal Navy demands of me and inflicts on its young recruits and indeed on its young ratings too if they step out of line. The Royal Navy has great faith in the beneficial effects of a well applied cane. But what I really meant, was how did you feel about what happened between us after the caning.”

Affecting surprise, I said: “Oh I see now, sir; you mean how did I feel when you raped me whilst I was still strapped down across the horse, sir.”  Looking back at that moment, I wonder now how I managed to screw together my courage and use the word rape. But that was, of course, exactly what Thresher had done to me; he had buggered my arse without my permission and that is what legally constitutes rape. The word is most commonly used in the context of a man violating a woman, but it is equally applicable to non-consensual sex between males. I don’t know what had possessed me to use that word, but I had done so and I now waited with bated breath wondering what his reaction would be to an upstart cadet who had just told him he was a rapist.

Thresher’s face had gone white with the shock of hearing that he had been branded a rapist in what had been my very brutal reply to his question; but I had correctly judged the situation for he was totally embarrassed by what he had just heard, which was, of course, the cruel, unvarnished truth. “Cadet Pettifer, you certainly don’t mince your words, do you?  You call a spade a spade. But I take your point; I possibly acted with undue precipitation. Sometimes, as I am sure you will appreciate, it is difficult to control one’s own carnal impulses and one later finds that one had done something in haste which one then regrets at leisure; and that is one of the reasons I called you here. I wanted to clear the air between us, for what I did that evening has been weighing heavily on my mind ever since it happened.”

I took what he had just said as an apology for what he had done; but I noted that he had said “one of the reasons I called you here” and not “the reason I called you here”.  So I decided that the moment had come to let him off the hook and said: “Well sir, I fully understand what happened; we all find ourselves in situations where we later wish we had behaved differently, but then have to live with it; but what’s done is one and cannot be undone, sir.  Anyway sir, if it makes you feel any better – I knew, of course, that it would – if  you had asked me whether I would mind you buggering my hole, I would have told you to go ahead.  You see sir as you must have realised, as it takes one to know one (another hard swipe from me) I am totally gay. In fact, sir, being totally honest with you, I really rather enjoyed what you did to me.”

Thinking back over what had just dared to say to him, I realised that I had well and truly socked it to him. Calling a spade a spade; well in my blunt, northern part of the world we often go one further and call a spade a shovel, which is with what I had just socked it to him. A great relief spread across his face, the colour of which improved remarkably.  I wondered if he had thought when he called me in, that I might make an official complaint against him, but I had now removed that threat. But having made him squirm for a few moments at least, I had then continued with what I suppose was for him a palliating admission, in which I tarred myself with the same brush as I had just tarred him.

“As far as rape is concerned, sir, I suppose I am almost as guilty as you are, sir, for you never gave me permission to bugger you, which is what I subsequently did before we parted. But you did not resist me and indeed, urged me on, so I suppose that you did give me your tacit consent; but it’s now all water under the bridge, sir.”  I waited to see what would happen next, for in terms of holding him to task for the liberty he had taken with me, and my “return match”’ I had more or less shot my wad and returned us to a level playing field. I had also used the word “bugger” for what I had done to him, which was plain speaking at it plainest. I had never even considered taking action against him for what he had done to me that evening; and there was little point in the pot calling the kettle black, for realistically we were both as guilty as each other, of unprovoked and non-consensual buggery; but anyway, let’s both be honest about it; we had each enjoyed having sex with the other.

Clearly relieved by the way things were now evolving in what had, for him, been a tensely awkward moment, he said: “Pettifer: why don’t you sit down and relax so that we can get to know one another a little better.” And that was the way it all began; for Thresher, as I now found out, was intent in continuing and building on our first rather unorthodox and unexpected – by me anyway – sexual acquaintance.  Now that the ice had been broken broken Thresher decided to open up to me completely.

“Look here, Pettifer; you have told me that you are gay and intimated that I too might be of the same persuasion, based I suppose on my rather brutal action on your arse. Well you are, of course, right. But I have long known that you were gay and that you have a thing going with another cadet, Connor Black. In fact I think the entire camp probably knows about your relationship with him by now; it’s difficult to keep such things under wraps for long in a small place such as this.”

“Well, Pettifer, I have to confess, that I have had my eye on you in the gym for quite some time now. You are not only a brilliant gymnast with a very attractive and desirable body, but having seen you several times naked in the showers, I knew that you had an exceptionally fine cock: big, cut and well proportioned, which is exactly what appeals to me.  So fessing up completely to you, Pettifer, I admit that I have had the hots for you for quite some time now; in fact, Pettifer, to be totally honest with you, more or less from the moment I first set eyes on you, I knew I wanted desperately to have sex with you. I don’t know if you have ever had the same experience with anyone; but anyway, that is the way it was for me; I guess it’s the equivalent of love – or in our case possibly better put – lust at first sight as I knew as soon as I clapped eyes on you, that I wanted to have sex with you.”

“So to come really clean with you, it was not by chance that you were the last person I caned on punishment parade that day; I purposely put you last so that I could achieve exactly what I wanted, which was to be alone with you, totally naked.  I had wanted, from the very start, to have sex with you after I had finished caning you, but I had not formulated any plan as to how I was to achieve my objective; but when push came to shove, I simply could not control the sexual urge which is what led me, as you so cuttingly, but accurately put it, to rape you.”

“But frankly I am not at all sure just how I would have managed to have sex with you if I had not simply shafted you – raped you – as I did; and I don’t have to tell you that the first time with a new partner, even between two experienced and active gays such as us, is never very easy. It’s not the act itself which is difficult; it’s just getting round to putting one’s desires into words and who does what to whom first, which can be a bit awkward.”

“Anyway, that’s the truth of the matter and how it actually happened is now in the past; the fact is that it did happen and fortunately we both enjoyed our first coupling. The only thing I still regret about the whole thing is that we came together under such unpleasant circumstances.  I am sure you appreciate that I had no option but to cane you as it was part of the duty which is attached to the position I hold; and I regret to say that if for some reason you were slated for punishment again, I would have to do the same thing: it’s just an unavoidable aspect of my life and job in the Navy: nothing personal at all, in fact.”

I listened in complete silence to Thresher pouring out his innermost thoughts to me and wondered where we were now going. I did not have long to wait as he continued: “So Pettifer, now that you know the whole story of my fixation on you, the question is, where do we go from here; is the whole incident now closed and forgotten or do we take it further? Laying my cards on the the table, Pettifer, I myself still have the same feelings about you and would like to think that our first unusual coupling might be the first of many.  Kevin – he used my first name for the first time; an unheard of degree of intimacy between two men of different ranks – I still have the hots for you, but now do you feel about me? Do we pursue what might turn into a very agreeable and mutually stimulating friendship or do we call it quits here and now?”

I cannot begin to tell you my feelings when I heard Thresher’s words.  As you know from my earlier remarks, I had long admired his muscular figure and considerable sexual endowment. And rape or not, I had greatly enjoyed what he had done to me and then what I had then gone on and done to him on at that fateful punishment day. It seemed to me that what he was now proposing was a match made in heaven;  even more so now that my sexual activity with Connor was already on the wane. 

So that was how our relationship began and we rapidly became regular, enthusiastic and, above all, very vigorous sex partners. I think that more than anything what held us together was that we both loved to fuck and be fucked as hard as possible.

Once Thresher saw that I was as keen as he was to pick up where we had left off, things moved a break-neck speed as he was as hot for me as I was for him. He simply could not wait to get started. He stood up went and locked the door to his office. Then, more or less pulling me from the chair on which I was sitting, he took me by the hand and through a door at the rear of his office, led me into his living quarters. He had a large living room with a bed to one side beyond which was a bathroom.  He closed the door behind us and motioned to me to get undressed, which I willingly did whilst he did the same. So in a few seconds, there we were again, much as we had been after he had first fucked me strapped over that beating horse.  Not a word was said by either of us.

I looked at my future partner in all his naked glory; and let me tell you that glory was not too fanciful a word to sum up Brian, for in my eyes, at least, he was a truly glorious looking stud. He was well proportioned and muscular, but not in that bulbous steroidal way that professional body builders so often are, with exaggerated muscles bulging out every which way. Gazing as I did at his crown jewels beautifully held between his legs. I saw to my surprise that he had no pubic hair at all; the area around his genitals had been expertly shaved away leaving his cock and balls in all their splendour, totally un-shrouded; and truly mouth-wateringly attractive they were; he had a magnificent pair of well spaced balls, over which descended, in a graceful curve, a perfectly proportioned cock: a tool to die for.

I had never seen anything like this before and I found that the absence of the usual thick thatch of coarse, pubic hair really made the most of his assets. I had always thought that my own penis and balls were pretty good and in terms of size they stood up well to Brian’s offering.  But there was just something about him, at least in my eyes; that made him just the most desirable man in the world at the moment; to me Brian was a stallion!

We looked admiringly at each other for a few brief seconds; but then he had to act; to give way to his obvious passion.  He came over to me, and forced me down onto his bed where we became immediately entwined, each of us rejoicing in the feel of the other’s body. Brian, as he had told me to call him, now turned out to be a totally different beast than that which had taken me by such force. He started by kissing my body, and gradually worked his way down from my face, via my nipples to arrive at my cock where he took its head in his mouth and gently started sucking me off. 

Now for the first time the silence was broken as he said: “Bend your knees and spread our legs and let me lube you up. If we are going to fuck, we may as well make it comfortable for both of us.” He went over to a bedside cabinet and pulled out a tube of some sort of cream, with which he liberally anointed both my arse and hole and his own penis. Then kneeling on the bed in front of me, he hoisted my legs over his head and very and very gently pushed his cock against my anal pucker and sphincter.  I have to say that I was very surprised by his gentle, almost timid approach, for it was in sharp contrast to the furious way in which he had attacked me on our first encounter. 

At first, my sphincter proved somewhat resistant to his efforts, but he gently persisted and eventually I felt myself yield to him, allowing his cock-head to slide smoothly into my rectum to be followed by what seemed like his endlessly long shaft, which he equally gently, but in one long smooth movement, pushed as deeply as he could inside me.  I felt his pelvis bottom against my arse as he achieved full penetration. I had, over my relatively brief, sexually active career, experienced several other cocks, but none, not even Connor’s, had ever felt so remotely satisfying as did Brian’s at that moment; it was as if his meat filled every part of me and I found the feeling mind-blowingly wonderful; so much so that I felt myself already exuding large drops of pre-cum.

But once he had achieved that first delicious penetration, Brian showed himself as a man who knew how to use his cock to perfection on his partner; he was everything I wanted: a truly hard and vigorous cocks-man.  He gradually built up the amplitude, force and speed of his strokes until, as we both neared climax, he was battering me with what felt like a foot- long iron rod at each stroke, with the persistency and force of the piston of a steam engine; I was in absolute heaven and begged him not to stop. For the last few strokes he withdrew himself totally from me and each time with unerring aim, re-thrust his great length back into my hole with what seemed like ever increasing passion. Finally, we both climaxed together; I took all his creamy sperm inside me whilst he took my emission all over his face and chest.  He fell onto me and we both lay there exhausted for a few minutes catching our breath. 

But Brian had not finished with me, as he then flipped me over onto my stomach, pulled me onto my knees and told me to spread my legs again; then, almost before I knew it, he had again thrust his enormous length inside me and proceeded to fuck me in the doggy position. Once again he exercised that incredible control and power over his cock: the mark of a highly experienced master-operator.  We finally both climaxed again simultaneously, thanks to his sheer professionalism and I finally jerked my load all over his bed whilst he withdrew and bathed my arse in his cream. I have to say that that evening, Brian gave me the very best two fucks of my life to date; he was just so good: a true artist when it came to copulation.  I found it hard to imagine that anyone could ever handle his man-meat better than Brian had done that evening; and what a magnificent penis he had. I had not yet measure it, as I did later on in our in our relationship, but as he thrust it into me, I just felt that it was endlessly long.

The evening was not yet over as Brian’s sexual appetite was not yet fully satisfied and he wanted a “return match” as he succinctly put it, pulling me to my feet as he spoke: “Don’t think that you are getting off so lightly young man. I’ve done all the hard work so far and now it’s your turn; and make no mistake, I expect you to take me to heaven and back before we call it quits for this evening.”  Nothing could have been clearer as he took my place on the bed, kneeling there with his superbly muscled, totally hairless buttocks stuck into the air, his legs widely spread waiting for my ministrations to his hole. 

I was, of course, delighted to oblige and I felt myself already again in a pre-cum stage as I lubed both him and myself up, ready to begin. I will not bother you with the details of my own copulative efforts other than to say that I think I acquitted myself well and Brian certainly seemed to appreciate what I did for him.  But one fuck was not enough for him as he wanted his full pound of flesh and he rolled over into the mission position and indicated that he again wanted me to attend to the needs of his anus; so, unable to refuse him, I obviously obliged him and gave him a powerful and vigorous fuck with his legs over my shoulders, bringing the evening’s mini-sexual marathon to a close. It was near midnight when I quietly crept back to my own bed. My roommates were curious to know what had happened but I told them that curiosity killed the cat and they should all just piss-off and get to sleep. 

That first evening with Brian proved as big a life changer for me as had my meeting with Connor. Brian and I became regular lovers; it mattered not one wit if it was love that held us together and not just raw unadulterated anal sex.  Either way we were both deliriously happy. I went on and finished the cadet training course at the end of which all of the cadets who had graduated had to decide whether they wanted to sign on as a regular sailor with the Royal Navyor leave.  I decided to sign on; but Connor who also graduated, decided that he had had enough and left to go back to Leeds.  I think in retrospect that it was that first liaison I had had with Brian after the beating that which killed his interest in me and ultimately in the Navy. As I told you it was shortly after that incident that intimacy between Connor and me began to wane, so that by the end of the course, we were just friends and sex between us was already a thing of the past.

CHAPTER 6 

To my surprise my first posting as a regular sailor was in the training camp at Dartmouth where I became assistant PE Instructor reporting to Brian Thresher. I was delighted with this job, even though I found myself a land-locked sailor.  But I was a keen gymnast and enjoyed being an instructor. Brian and I worked well together; I took the junior cadets whilst he occupied himself with the ratings in the camp. Brian, had, of course, still the additional duty as disciplinarian and as time passed, he invited me to assist at the punishment parades, which, as ever, were held each Friday evening and were always well attended. I hate to say this but I enjoyed watching the cadets and ratings slated for punishment strip off and have their arses roasted.

Eventually, Brian allowed me to wield the cane myself and that was a moment of pure joy for me, as I knew by now, that I wanted a post where I too would be totally in charge of discipline. And so life went pleasantly along for some two years during which time memories of Connor faded as Brian and I became ever closer. We had regular sex together three or four times a week and I have to say that those two years were very happy ones for me; Brian and I seemed made for each other. Occasionally we would go into town together and visit a gay club or bar, where we would indulge in sex with other guys by way of a change. But on the whole we were both satisfied with each other and the sexual activity we shared. In the camp, I never ever looked at another guy, let alone have sex with him, although several ratings and one daring cadet, made overtures to me. And I think that Brian was the same; we were faithful to each other.

Then, out of the blue, came the next life-changer for me; I was promoted to the rank of Petty Officer and became Petty Officer Kevin Pettifer.  I was, of course, delighted with my promotion but less so with what came with it.  I was offered the post of Chief PE Instructor and Sole Disciplinarian onboard Her Majesty’s Training Ship, Great Endeavour. When I was say I was offered the post, I should have said that I was transferred to the post; like it or not I had no option but to take it.  After two years in a stable sexual relationship with Brian, whose rank I had now attained, I was devastated by the fact that he and we would have to separate as the Great Endeavour was moored offshore in Plymouth; in a word, my sex life with Brian was at an end. 

Brian was full of enthusiasm at my promotion as he saw it as a step up the ladder for me in the Navy. He did not seem bothered by the fact that we would be separated and that our so wonderful – and it truly was wonderful; at least for me – sex life would be at an end.  I began to wonder just now attached to me he really was.  I had never thought of Brian as being “the” person in my life; but it would nevertheless be a wrench to separate from him; to relinquish the certainty that each week I would have a reliable regular sex partner whom I enjoyed fucking immensely and who equally enjoyed fucking me.

In fact, I had never given any thought at all to becoming attached to another man as my life’s partner; the thought had never even crossed my mind. But now, faced with this major disruption in my life: a part of my life which had become totally essential,  I began to wonder what I would do when I arrived on the Great Endeavour where I knew absolutely no one. What would I do for sex? It was an activity which had become vitally essential to my existence and I doubted that I could exist without it.

But the day arrived and I packed my things, what few I had, and was taken by a Navy truck from Dartmouth to Plymouth, where a launch took me out to the Great Endeavour.  This, after several years in the Navy, was actually the first time I set foot on board a ship and I was finally at sea; well I was sort of at sea, for HMTS Great Endeavour was permanently moored offshore at Plymouth.  I was on board a floating training ship, but I might as well have been on shore in a camp, as the Great Endeavour had as much to do with sailing as does a plastic duck in a bathtub. The Great Endeavour was smallish old liner which the Navy had purchased and refitted as a training ship to accept cadets who were assigned to it by the juvenile courts.  The thinking behind it was that by sentencing young offenders aged eighteen to twenty to a year on board a naval training ship, where they could be subjected to strict naval discipline, rather than sending them to prison, there was a chance that some of them might realise the error of their ways, pull themselves together, and emerge as upright and useful, citizens; that anyway was the theory.  And the idea was that by confining them onboard a ship moored offshore was they could not abscond. In a word, the Great Endeavour was nothing more than floating senior approved school; or to call a spade a spade the Great Endeavor ws a juvenile floating prison. And this is where I was destined to to spend my next few years in the Navy.

I was shown to my quarters by a Petty Officer.  I have to say that the Great Endeavour having originally been a passenger liner was very spacious, and conditions were much better than those at the Dartmouth camp. The cadets: a courtesy name, for that is what we called the young prisoners, were billeted four or six to a cabin, the regular sailors two to a cabin and all ranks above that had their own cabin. But what had been the public rooms had been converted into a variety of uses; classrooms, three mess halls, three common rooms, (cadets, ratings and non-commissioned ranks  and commissioned officers ) gymnasium, shower rooms etc.  All in all the Great Endeavour was very well equipped. Whether it would fulfil its potential and civilise the cadets, all of whom were petty criminals of one sort or another, remained to be seen.

I met my fellow NCO’s at supper that evening and was shown around the ship. The gymnasium was, of course, of particular interest as it was my chief place of work on board; it was also the place where all punishments, which I alone as Chief Disciplinarian would administer. The gym was well fitted out with all the normal equipment one associates with such places, but in addition, to one side, stood a professional wooden beating horse of adjustable height and with ankle and wrist straps so that lads of any stature could be immobilised across it with their buttocks perfectly presented to receive the cane or, as I now discovered, the birch. All the punishment equipment was stored in a large cupboard and there was an excellent selection of canes of different calibres, which enabled the user to choose the right rod for every occasion and every arse size.

But to my surprise, there were also several examples of two different calibres of birch.  I say birch, but these implements were not made of the normal twigs, which of course were not exactly easily available on board ship. The supply houses, however, anxious to furnish every type of implement of corporal chastisement, had developed what I suppose we must call a synthetic birch; made of stiff, but flexible metal wires covered in a plastic coating this was an implement which would stand the test of time; there were two versions, a junior and senior calibre of this traditional instrument of punishment. I tried out one by bringing it firmly down across the leather top rail of the beating horse and I saw by the spread of the ‘twigs” that I could easily completely cover any target arse with three good strokes, so that a twelve stroke birching would be hellishly painful. I learned that the courts often sentenced their defendants to a birching to be given in the establishment to which they were sent, be it approved school, juvenile prison or, in our case, training ship. So with any luck I would have an immediate group of miscreant arses to birch.

The arrival of the first group of thirty cadets was scheduled for the next day. The sub-lieutenant who was to be in charge of their reception suggested to me that I also be present and that I bring a suitable cane with me: “You never know with such vicious, young, serial miscreants; there could well be some difficulty in getting them checked in and billeted; Better safe than sorry, so let’s have a cane clearly visible and I shall also have two muscular young regular sailors to hand to quell any potential disturbances.”  I have to say that the young lieutenant had great foresight, for the reception did not go smoothly and the cane proved very useful; in fact it was to give me my maiden beating as Head of Discipline. It was to be one of several which followed in quick succession on board the Great Endeavour.

The first intake of cadets arrived and was marshalled on deck, thirty of them in all; and a right motley lot they seemed to be. Of course, no one knew anyone else, as the lads had been sent from all over the country.  The sub-lieutenant in charge attempted to say a few words, welcoming the reluctant cadets on board, only to be immediately interrupted by a surly looking character in the front row, a lad who had a big mouth  and was obviously intent on making trouble:  “Save your breath sailor,” he said, “If you think you are going to reform us lot on this old rust bucket of a ship, you have something else coming to you. So you might just as well belt up here and now and cut the cackle.  In fact you really ought just to piss off; the whole lot of you are just a fucking pain in the arse.  Just fuck off the whole bloody lot of you.”

I was shocked that a young man of eighteen should have interrupted a senior officer who was simply trying to tell the lads something about the ship, with such a mouthful of vilely obscene and uncalled for invective. But he had clearly reckoned without the instant discipline for which that the Navy was famous; in bearding the lieutenant he soon found he had met his match, for the young officer clearly subscribed to the motto “He who hesitates is lost:” But hesitate he certainly did not!

“Cadet, step forward. What is your name?”

“What’s it to you; why don’t you just find out; and while you are doing that, why don’t you bugger yourself.”

I could hardly believe my ears. This stupid loud-mouthed oaf, was digging himself into an ever deeper hole with each word he uttered.

“Cadet, get your clothes off right now; strip completely naked; and when I say naked, I do mean everything, shoes and socks included; so quick about it; this is the Royal Navy and when I give an order I expect it to be obeyed immediately, if not sooner; so cadet, I want you totally naked in front of us here on deck in the next five seconds. Get your clothes off, boy.”

“If you think I’m going to strip in front of you and all these other guys, you’ve got another thing coming; it’s not decent what you want me to do; to make me stand starkers here in front of everyone else.  So why don’t you just fuck off, because I’m not doing it.”

“Cadet, I’ve given you an order. Your crude behaviour has already earned you twelve strokes of the cane, which Petty Officer Pettifer, standing there with his cane is just waiting to give you. If I have to have you stripped, which I will, and make no mistake about it as I mean what I say, then Mr Pettifer will be delighted to give you fifteen cuts of the cane; and let me just tell you that he has a mean way with the cane.”

Still the cadet persisted in disregarding the order and mouthed another obscenity or two at the lieutenant who just nodded to the two sailors.  In a brace of shakes the oafish cadet found himself stripped totally naked, down to his bare feet, standing there attempting to hide his genitals with his hands from the sight of the newly arrived cadets. But even this did not stop him continuing to hurl his foulmouthed invective at the lieutenant, who remained totally calm as he gave the cadet his next order; “Cadet, kneel down on the deck here in front of your shipmates, stick your arse in the air and put your head and hands flat on the deck.”

“You’ve got to be fucking joking; you can’t expect me to do that; who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I know full well who I am cadet; I am your superior officer and you will either obey my latest order in five seconds or take eighteen strokes of the cane from Mr. Pettifer. Now lad, kneel down and do as I have just said.”

The cadet, totally recalcitrant and defiant as ever did not move; so the lieutenant again motioned to the two attendant sailors who grabbed the cadet and forced him into the kneeling position with his head and hands flat on the deck in front of him. “Mr Pettifer, if you please; eighteen strokes of the cane across this cadet’s naked buttocks; and lay them on well as he needs to be taught a lesson in manners and to learn who is in charge on this ship. I will call out the strokes for you. So if you are ready we can begin.”

If ever a lad deserved a thrashing this lout did.  I can tell you that I needed no encouragement: none at all, to give his naked arse the hiding of a lifetime.  The lieutenant, whom I later learned had been at a leading public school himself after the reintroduction of corporal punishment and had himself been thrashed many times by his Headmaster,  knew exactly the importance of allowing a good pause between each stroke to let the reveiver fully appreciate the effect of the cut he had just received. So the eighteen stroke beating took the best part of three minutes to complete. The kneeling lad swore and cried out with pain as I landed stroke after stroke on his naked posterior.

By the time I had finished, the lad had a superbly well corrugated and roasted pair of buttocks with a few drops of blood here and there where I had broken the skin; I had reduced him to a flood of tears. So my somewhat impromptu debut as Chief Disciplinarian on board the Great Endeavour, had been made more dramatic than I could ever had ever imagined and I was delighted that the receiver of the first of my many ministrations, had been a cadet who truly merited his punishment; a fact which  really did assuage my conscience as I had really enjoyed making the lad squirm. The cadets were then marched off, with Cadet John William Reid, as we subsequently learned his name to be, still naked, to be examined by the ship’s doctor.

CHAPTER 

Along with the lieutenant and sub-lieutenant, we went over the various court orders accompanying each newly arrived cadet; seven of them arrived with some very painful baggage which needed unpacking more or less immediately. Three of them each had a court order for twelve cuts of the birch to be administered on arriving on board ship – by me, of course; the three others each had twelve cuts of the cane to endure. The seventh lad was none other than the oafish John Reid, who had a long history of petty theft with violence, so much so that the court had ordered him to be given three twelve stroke birchings at monthly intervals.

It was decided that the six cadets would be beaten the following day after supper when they would all attend a formal punishment parade. Cadet Reid’s first encounter with the birch was, however, postponed for ten days as the ship’s doctor, whom I later discovered was also a great believer in the beneficial effects of corporal punishment, felt that his arse was in no state to undergo another beating until it had had time to heal from my recent ministrations. But Reid, that oafish lout, with the prospect of three, twelve-cut birchings to look forward to, would have a few, mentally very uncomfortable months in front of him. My own feeling was that if the beating I had just given him, plus three more to come, did not cow the lad completely and make him toe the line, then he was beyond hope; we would never change him and he would never change himself; he had, on first appearances,  all the makings of a future old lag.

The following evening at eight, the six cadets in question were marched to the changing room, made to strip and take a shower. In fact, the protocol for the punishment parade on the Great Endeavour was exactly that same as in Dartmouth.  When we all got to the gym, the six cadets wearing just the regulation pair of shorts were ordered to stand against the wall. The same two regular sailors who had dealt with the recalcitrant Reid on deck the first day, were again on hand to ensure that things ran smoothly.  For the first time, I noticed that one of them was a very muscular looking, blond fellow, who filled out his naval trousers both back and front to perfection.  Looking at his backside it appeared that his pants were glued to his body, for each bun of his arse was beautifully delineated and did not show any sign of underpant leg elastic, which so often spoils the line of a guy’s arse; so I guessed he was either not wearing any pants at all or possibly just a cock-thong to hold his man-meat in place. One thing appeared absolutely clear to me; this young stud was obviously aware of what he had to offer and did not seem shy to vaunt it. 

After I noticing the young sailor, I had a hard time concentrating on the job in hand, which was to thrash the naked arses of six cadets; my cock, as ever was telling me what it wanted and somehow I had to try to control it; at least until I had finished with the six waiting cadets; but I already sensed that the young sailor was a very fuckable commodity and that given half a chance I would love to explore his bulging pants more fully. In a word, on first sight, this young stud, to whom I had never even spoken, was someone I knew instinctively that I wanted to get to know better; a feeling which was reinforced by the fact that he gave me several meaningful glances. I thought to myself: “Well it takes one to know one and all signs were that this superbly attractive hunk of muscular, male flesh was gay.” My pulse quickened at the thought.

But I had to chase all such ideas of possible carnality from my thoughts, for at the present moment I had six cadets to punish; a total of no less than seventy-two cuts of cane and birch to administer.  This was really a totally unexpected, bumper initiation for me in my role of Chief Disciplinarian: a harvest of six young arses to beat on my second day on board ship.  The adjutant read out from his charge sheet the name of the cadet who was to be birched first. It had been agreed with the officers in charge, that I would perform the three birchings first and then move onto the three lads who had been sentenced to be caned.

The young cadet stepped forward without hesitation when told to do so; he took off his shorts and bent across the horse, presenting his naked buttocks for punishment with no resistance at all; the lad had clearly come to terms with his immediate fate. The two sailors quickly strapped him in place and I was afforded another erotic view of the blond sailor’s arse as he bent over to attach the ankle straps, stretching his already skin tight trousers even tighter.  My God, what a wonderfully inviting pair of buns this young man had; I can tell you that I had a hard time controlling myself.

Looking at the buttocks I was about to thrash, I saw that this young cadet had a rather small pair of buns; so I decided that I would use the lighter birch on him. But once I got started, I applied the rod with maximum force and the lad was soon howling with pain; by the time I had finished with him, his backside was totally covered over its entire surface with those small blue-red bruises so characteristic of this implement; the light birch it may have been, but the lad had really suffered. But he took his punishment well and as he returned to stand agent the wall, as ordered, he quickly pulled his shorts back on, even though he winced as they brushed against his inflamed arse. I actually found myself quite admiring this cadet’s composure and mentally chalked him up as one who might well benefit from his time on board ship.

The next lad to be called was, however, a completely different kettle of fish. I think he had been petrified with fear watching his shipmate take his punishment and when told to take his position over the horse he just flatly refused.  Again the help of our two sailor friends was needed and the lad was unceremoniously stripped of his shorts and strapped over the horse. This time, presented with a good, muscular pair of meaty buttocks to attend to, I decided that they could well stand a dose of the heavier birch, which I applied with vigour. Twelve strokes reduced his arse to a deep crimson colour all over.  I think it is fair to say that this lad rose from the horse with a very well roasted arse.

The third cadet was in already in tears before he was told to mount the horse; he simply could not control his fear of what he was about to undergo;  having watched and seen the results of two naked arsed birchings, his fear was totally understandable; but he pulled himself together, put on as braved a face as he could muster and took up his position, over the horse with no assistance from the two sailors. And so I went ahead and gave him my third birching of the day, by which time I fully appreciated why the birch had been so popular.

Even though it did not produce the deep welts that a well chosen and vigorously applied cane does, it did ensure that the receiver’s  backside was totally beaten; not an inch of flesh escaped the scourge of those spreading twigs and I can only imagine, as I never ever experienced it myself, that the pain delivered by the birch was excruciating.  At the end of my first brief experience of this traditional implement, I saw that it could be applied with great force but produce much less physical damage than the cane, which when excessively applied could leave the receiver with a blooded, corrugated backside. I saw that the pain delivered by the birch built up gradually. In three strokes I and covered the entire surface of all three lads’ arses; but then, going on with the additional nine cuts, I saw that I was thrashing the same place as I had already done, so that the pain of repeated strokes on the same  flesh could be built up to be well nigh unbearable. So from my brief experience I saw considerable advantages to using the birch and realised just why it had been prized as the ultimate implement of corporal chastisement last century.

I won’t burden you with the fine details of the twelve stroke canings I administered to the bare arses of the other three cadets. Having watched their three shipmates each take a birching, it had evidently dawned on the lot of them that there was no way they were going to escape their judicial punishments; So when the moment came for each of them to strip off completely and bend across the horse, all three lads did so with what I cannot but describe as “good grace”. There was no resistance at all and the intervention of our sailor assistants was not needed.

They all accepted their punishment with as much courage as they could muster; and believe me, when you are faced with a vigorous, naked arse, twelve-stroke caning you do need considerable courage to hold yourself together and maintain your composure.  They all howled loudly as the cane bit into their naked flesh and all three lads finished up in tears by the time the last stroke had landed; I could not blame them, as I had laid on the cuts as hard as I could as demanded by the Navy code. So each of them left the gym that evening with a well corrugated arse, which would remain with them for several days and provide them with a keen incentive to mend their ways.

I thought that everyone had gone and I was putting away the birches and the canes in their cupboard, when I realised that I was not alone.  I turned around to find that the blond young sailor was still there; apparently he thought I needed a hand to put the horse back against the wall; at least that is what he said. My heart missed a beat as I saw that this young stud, for whom I already had the hots, evidently wanted, somehow, to get closer to me.  It was a very difficult moment or both of us, as I guess we both knew what we wanted; at least I know I did!

But then there was that horrible thing called rank: a potentially unbridgeable divide between us; he was a rating, a regular sailor, and I a Petty Officer which did make things a bit difficult. Looking back, the present hierarchical situation was analogous to that which had pertained between Brian Thresher and me. But that incredible thing called chemistry had already come into play between us and there was little either of us could do to avoid where it was leading us; the mutual attraction was obvious; so to hell with differences in rank.

The young rating came to our joint rescue as he said: “Well sir, I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, sir, but I would like to congratulate you on your performance today. If ever a group of lads needed a good dose of firm discipline that lot did.  And you really did them proud sir; you are a real professional at your job sir.” So thanks to him we had at least got talking together, or more accurately put, he had got talking to me.  He went on:  “I was thinking sir, that as you had only just arrived on board sir, you might need a hand to get settled in sir: so if you feel you need a hand with anything, anything at all, sir (note the way he repeated the word: anything, and qualified it still further by adding the words: at all) well I’m your man sir.  Just say the word and I’ll be round to help you sir.”

So there it was; unless I had misread the situation, this young man, whose name I did not even know, was offering it to me on a plate; he was clearly as hot for me as I was for him.  It is strange how one just knows these things, which whilst never actually spoken are self-evident to both parties.  So far it was he who had done all the talking and he now shut up, waiting to see what my reaction would be: waiting to see how I would answer him.  Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth I said:  “You know sailor, you’ve been of great help during this unhappy business today, but I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Shaw sir, Able Seaman Stephen Shaw sir; at your service sir.”

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth I said: “Well, Sailor Shaw, I think I might need a hand with a few things, as you said, so why don’t you come around to my cabin after supper at around eight this evening and we’ll take it from there.”

“Ay, ay sir,” replied Sailor Shaw, “I’ll be there sir; and as I said, sir, anything at all, sir: I’ll help you with anything at all you need or want to do sir.”

I don’t know if I as reading too much into what Shaw had said, but I did note that he had added the words “want to do” at the end of his offer. I found myself tingling with erotic anticipation tinged with a slight feeling of apprehension as I waited for the arrival of Stephen Shaw that evening.  I suddenly was filled with doubt; had I misjudged the situation with him? Was he, in fact, attracted to me as much as I knew that I was to him?  Was I reading more into what he had said: a complete misinterpretation by me of his intentions? Could a simple sailor be aware of the subtle implications of what he had said? Should I have taken his remarks at face value: literally to help me settle in my new surroundings, with no sexual overtones at all? The more I thought about things, the more nervous and uncertain I became.

CHAPTER 8

 

Promptly at eight that evening, Able Seaman Stephen Shaw knocked at my door. Any doubts I had harboured about his intentions vanished as soon as I opened the door and saw him, for what he was now wearing confirmed my dearest hopes; this young stud was as gay as a coot.  He had changed out of his naval uniform into an even more revealing pair of trousers, into which he had somehow managed to pour himself. Other than in a gay club or bar, God alone knows where else he could have worn them and I wondered if any of his shipmates had seen him in his overtly gay attire as he made for my cabin. But commonsense told me that his shipmates were already well aware of his sexual preferences, as it is hard for a gay man to hide himself and his proclivities from those with whom he is in daily contact.

Earlier in the day, when he had first caught my eye, he had filled out his regular uniform pants to perfection; but now what he was wearing, seemed like a second skin. The pants were not quite so revealing as the ballet tights worn by a male dancer, but his buttocks were well delineated and oh so very alluring to my eye; and the bulging crotch left no doubt that it was hiding a formidable piece of man-meat.  Above, he was wearing a figure fitting shirt with very short sleeves which was glued to his torso and showed off to perfection both his well developed pectoral muscles and his biceps. I noticed also that he was barefooted and was wearing only a pair of slip-on canvas deck-shoes. Here was a guy who could be stripped and ready for action in ten seconds.

The moment I saw him I felt that sudden surge of adrenaline which sent a thrilling shiver of anticipative excitement pulsing through my body; my cock immediately started on its upward journey, telling me in its inimitably and often undesirably uncontrollable way what it wanted. Tonight as far as I could see, there was no reason at all why I could not accede to its imperative demands and I just knew that I would fuck Stephen Shaw within the next half hour, if not sooner.

“Well sir, here I am as you requested; so what is it you would like me to do first sir?”

Just looking at this lusciously muscular stud dressed in the most revealing of clothes, I decided that the moment had come to stop the verbal charade, pussy-footing around each other as we had been since he first offered his services and cut to the chase. So taking that metaphorical big breath and hoping fervently that I was not going to find myself proved totally wrong in everything I thought and hoped for,  I said: “Well Sailor Shaw, what I would really like you to do is to take of your clothes;  in fact, to get stripped completely and let me take a good look at you, for as  far as I can see, young man, what your rather skimpy outfit is attempting to cover, will be well worth examining more closely in the buff.”

“Sir, I thought that you would never ask,” he replied. “I was hoping against hope that I had not misjudged the situation. At punishment parade, I had seen you looking at me in that way in which a man looks at another man whom he fancies; or at least that is what I thought and hoped; and I now see I was right. So to come clean with you, sir, I am, as I am sure you had already imagined, gay: in fact, I am a totally confirmed and practising homosexual; and I thought, and to be absolutely honest with you sir, hoped that you might be the same because sir, I found you so very desirable from the first moment I set my eyes on you.  I found myself hoping against hope that you might be like me as I just knew on first sight that I wanted to have sex with you.”

Whilst he was saying this, he was already removing what skimpy clothing he was wearing; first came off the shirt which let me take in his magnificent torso and then off came those skin-tight pants, to reveal a muscular pair of legs. Then, as he turned round to put his clothes to one side, his arse was revealed in all its perfect muscular glory; and I saw that as I had suspected, he was wearing a simple cock-thong to ensure that even when clothed his buns were shown without anything spoiling their perfection. As yet he had not removed the cock-string, which was supporting what promised to be a very desirable piece of male equipment.

“Stop right there, Sailor,” I said as I approached him. “If you will, permit me, I would like to give myself the undoubted pleasure of removing your last bit of clothing myself, to have what promises to be a wonderfully erotic moment when I liberate your cock and balls from their present confinement.”  Then, as actions speak louder than words, I put my arms around him embraced him and kissed him fully on the lips: a most intimate act in my view; even more so than that of the sex act itself. To my great relief and joy, he accepted my kiss and kissed me back. My hand now dropped to his crotch and felt the size and weight of the package I was about to reveal. I slipped my fingers around both sides of that minute, sexy undergarment and in one quick movement pulled it down to the floor there by rendering his nudity complete.

The young stud’s most precious possession jumped forth in all its anticipative vigour.  He was hung like a young stallion and I was delighted to see that, like me, he was one of that rare group of Englishmen of our generation who had been circumcised. His cock, which was just beginning to harden, had that wonderful rubbery texture with which not every man is endowed, but which even when totally soft, manages to look good; it arched in a graceful curve over his pair of well separated balls, held high and close to his body; and thanks to the foresight of someone (who? when?) who had removed his foreskin, Sailor Shaw’s magnificent cock was blessed with a superb head set off from the shaft by a well defined rim. In a word, his cock was utter perfection.

As I stood there admiring this young Adonis, it suddenly hit me that I was still fully clothed. So I immediately shed all my garments and allowed my future sex partner to look at me in the buff.  Sailor Shaw had a beautiful body and was sexually super-well equipped and I wondered for a brief moment if he would be disappointed when he saw what I had to offer. Why I thought this, I do not really know, for I was well aware, thanks to my regular gym training and my job as PE instructor, that I too had a set of muscles not to be sneezed at; and I also knew that few guys were as well endowed where it really counted or had such a top class cock as I knew I had. But I was nevertheless slightly apprehensive in showing my all for the first time to this young man who was to be my immediate future sex partner.  I would have been mortified; cut to the quick, if I had thought that he found me lacking.  Of course this was utter nonsense on my part as I knew that in terms of sexual performance I was up there with the best. But I mention this because it gives you an idea of just how nervous, someone as experienced as me could be at the start of a new relationship.

So there we stood, two good-looking young gays, cocks now totally erect and ready for action. Neither of us had asked the other what his preferences were, so to get started, I said:  “I don’t know about you, but I like both to fuck and be fucked; so I guess I’m neither a top nor a bottom but sort of polyvalent; in fact I just like all kinds of gay sex.”

“Well I’m much the same,” he said, “So here’s a suggestion as we obviously have both got the hots for each other.  Why don’t we just toss a coin to decide who gets first fuck?”  And that is precisely what we did; I won the toss so I then asked him how he would like his maiden experience of sex with me. We finally settled on the mission position, with him lying flat on his back with a pillow under his lower back to raise his arse up a little. I then knelt in front of him and taking his legs over my shoulders was able to address his anus perfectly with my penis.  I was please he had chosen this position for our maiden fuck together, as it was my own favourite. 

But before we got started I told him of certain things I always did when having sex: “We both use a condom during every sex act and change it for a fresh one for each new act. Why? Well partly to avoid sexually transmitted diseases, although I doubt that that is a problem between you and me: but it is mainly to keep things tidy. Sex, wonderful though it is, is intrinsically a messy business and has an unfortunate down-side, which we all tolerate because it is at the moment of orgasm: that moment which gives us the greatest of all pleasures known to man, that we spray our sticky sperm everywhere.  Frankly trying to sleep in a bed where the sheeted are soaking wet with sperm, whether mine or my partner’s or a mixture of both, is not my idea of heaven. And so I have taken to insisting with all my partners that we both use a condom, irrespective of who is fucking whom; and moreover, for each new act we each use a fresh condom.”

Sailor Shaw listened to all this and said: “That sounds absolutely great, but I hope you’ve got plenty of condoms available tonight as I don’t have a single one on me.”

“My dear Stephen, or do you prefer Steve, for I think that in light of where we are heading with each other, in the privacy of my cabin we should use our first names;  and you can drop the  “sir” business as there are no ranks between sex partners, I took the precaution of laying in a large stock of rubbers and lubricants before coming on board, as I had no idea how I would get such important items stuck, as we are, on board ship off-shore. And one way or another I was sure my sex life would continue onboard sip”

Well what can I tell you about our first evening together? I fucked him at least three times and he did the same for me, we were a well matched pair for both of us liked really hard, punchy sex and we both gave the other exactly what he wanted. For me it was one of the most exhilarating evenings of anal copulation I had ever experienced. I absolutely adored lying next to this gorgeous young sailor, whose body I kissed from top to bottom. I suddenly realised that with Stephen, even on this first occasion, that what we were doing together went beyond just raw sex; for the first time in my life I felt that I was making love to someone. Stephen finally crept quietly away in the early hours to retrieve his own bed. After that glorious beginning, we met in my cabin three or four times a week and as time passed we became closer and closer to each other. 

Stephen was the personification of discretion, never allowing our personal relationship to interfere with our duties as naval personnel. In public and at punishment parades, where he was one of my regular assistants, he always deferred to me and the other Petty Officers and never gave any hint of the very close relationship that the two of us enjoyed together. For myself, I was sublimely happy; happier, in fact, than I had ever been in my life, as in Stephen I began to realise that I had found my soul-mate and I think he too felt the same way about me. I think that not only were we both sexually fulfilled but also we genuinely liked being with each other; in a word we were also in love.

Life on board settled down into a routine; but then, what job does not?  I enjoyed being in charge of the PE department and I still derived a great deal of pleasure from the weekly punishment parade about which I still felt a niggling guilt. But it was pointless in trying to deny it; it was a fact that I did enjoy thrashing the naked arses of young men. The parades were always well “attended” as the cadets seemed incapable of keeping out of trouble for longer than five minutes; so both the cane and the birch, wielded by me, were in regular use each week.

But a fly flew into the ointment. I had not realised that as Chief Disciplinarian I would be required to cane any regular sailor who was put on a charge. There were not many occasions when this happened, but when it did it was exactly the same as the weekly parade of the cadets, from which it was nevertheless separated; but the identical Navy protocol was followed: showers, shorts, march to the gym, bend across the horse, where I then applied the cane to their naked arses. But then the unthinkable happened. Stephen, my lover and right-hand man at the normal cadet thrashings, was himself put on a charge for falling asleep whilst on guard duty. He maintained his innocence, but the lieutenant who had found him, supposedly sleeping, would have none of it and he was sentenced to fifteen strokes of the cane, the statutory punishment for that specific offence.

I broke out in a cold sweat all over when I heard the news directly from Stephen’s mouth. I knew immediately that there was nothing that I could do in the face of the inevitable. My friend and lover was on a charge and sentenced to be caned. I was the person who administered all corporal punishment; ergo I was obliged to beat his arse; it was as simple as that for that was the way the system worked. The fact that he and I had a special relationship going, that we were gay lovers, did not enter into consideration.  Stephen and I discussed this at length as we lay there together naked, after making love in my bed. I told him that I did not know how I was going to go through with the performance of what was, without a doubt, my manifest duty; but the thought of having to reduce my lover’s arse to shreds just made my blood curdle.

Stephen, who was the one going to receive the beating was much more philosophical about it than I was: “Look here Kevin,” he said, “I understand exactly how you feel, but you are an innocent party in this whole fucking business. You are just being called upon to do your normal job and nobody is aware of the fact that you and I have an ongoing sexual relationship; and frankly, even if they did, it would not make a blind bit of difference.  I know and I am sure you believe me when I say that I was not sleeping on duty, but there seems little point in taking the business in front of the commanding officer for I am sure he would side with the lieutenant. So I’ve just come to accept that I am going to be beaten and that you are going to be the one who beats me.  Look Kevin, I know it’s going to be mentally painful for you and physically bloody painful for me, but I will survive; it’s not going to affect our relationship in any way; so just relax and accept that things are the way they are; there is fuck-all that either of us can do to change matters: end of story; so let’s just forget it for the moment.”  And with that he rolled me over onto my back and proceeded to give me a dose of anal stimulation with that superb cock of his cock to calm me down.

By chance, there were two other regular sailors whom I had also to cane at that fatidic punishment parade.  Both had been caught, by the same lieutenant, smoking on guard duty and awarded fifteen strokes of the cane.  The adjutant called out their names first and I thrashed the cane down on each of their arses in turn before Stephen was order to drop his shorts and bend across the horse. 

My heart was beating twice as fast as normal as I surveyed the pristine arse of my lover, which in another, much pleasanter, context, I knew so very well; but now was quite different, as I was not going to fuck him but reduce his beautiful buttocks to shreds with the cane. Under the eagle-eye of the sub-lieutenant, there was no way that I could pull my punches and so, with heavy heart, I proceeded to give Stephen’s backside a fifteen stroke roasting. By the time I had finished, his arse was neatly lined with fifteen evenly placed stripes; I did just manage to hold back enough to avoid breaking his skin, so there was no blood. 

For me I think it had been as painful an occasion as it had been for him. But he never let out a murmur during the entire time and when told to get up he pulled back on his shorts without wincing.  God alone knows how he maintained his composure; but as his closest friend, I was immensely proud of him as he was marched away to be examined by the doctor. And let me just add one thing; this was the first time I had beaten anyone and had neither enjoyed it nor had been sexually aroused; ask me not why, but thrashing the living daylights out of my lover’s arse did not turn me on and my cock remained limp throughout the entire process.

Stephen did not appear at supper that evening, but later he came to my cabin and together, naked as ever, in bed I attempted to comfort him.  I did have some cream which I gently rubbed into the corrugated mess of welts into which my handiwork had turned his exquisite arse. He lay on his back and offered me his cock, which I went ahead and sucked to climax for him by way of consolation. Then he gently pushed me away spread and raised his legs and offered me his anus saying: “Kevin, please, very gently, fuck me; I need some internal stimulation; I just need to feel you inside me.”

It was a very moving moment in our relationship, for I fucked Stephen bareback for the first time and as we both climaxed we bathed each other in our sperm for the very first time. I have to say that it was a tellingly wonderful experience, for somehow our sticky, warm seed drew us even closer together. It was then that any doubt I had had that I did not truly love Stephen vanished completely. I did not even have to tell him as I saw in his eyes that he felt the same about me as we hugged each other tightly, still consoling each other in our mutual sorrow. Stephen spent the entire night in my bed and it was only at first light that he went back to his own billet to start the next day.

After this awful incident, life for Stephen and me went on normally.  Time passed and several groups of cadets came and went. I was still chief PE Instructor and I still caned any cadets and occasionally the odd regular sailor who broke the rules.  I was, in fact totally happy with my lot in the Navy and happier than I can ever express in words with my life with Stephen. Our relationship was still very sexually orientated as we both enjoyed sex enormously and saw no reason to stint on it. But our relationship had gone far beyond raw sex for without any formal agreement between us, Stephen and I had become an item. Even though neither of us knew what the future held for us, one thing was absolutely clear: we would somehow remain together. 

And there my story, as far as it goes, must end. Neither Stephen nor I had any idea what our future in the Royal Navy held out for us. But for the moment, we were both happy and so we made hay whilst the sun was shining. Tomorrow would be another day

THE END 

You should now read the third and final story of this trilogy:  

Pettifer: The Warden

by Jason Land

Email: [email protected]

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