Kevin Pettifer - The Warden

Thus when your punishment is complete, you will have received what is known as a classic, twelve on twelve, parallel beating, which in view of the fact that the second stroke lands in exactly the same place as the first, is generally considered the most painful beating which can be administered with the cane. I think May, that you will find that the dragon cane, adds a new dimension to the gentle art of arse beating. May, I sincerely regret that I have to be so severe with you; but I see no other way to rescue you from your present self-destructive path. There is a saying: Redemption through pain. Well let us hope that this applies in this case."

Brian May had kept silent through this long-winded and somewhat preachy monologue. His first reaction to what he had just been forced to listen was lone of rage and he wanted to tell the Warden to piss of and do his worst. But then it suddenly hit home to him that without any verbal repartee from him, the Warden had every intention of doing his worst; but which looked at from the other side of the fence, the Warden probably considered was his best. And as he waited what seemed like an age for the first of the promised two dozen cuts with the dragon cane he was to receive, Brian May suddenly looked at himself metaphorically in the face and accepted that he had brought all this on himself. He had no idea why he had become so enraged in the coach as to pull out a knife and threaten one of the others with it; he himself knew that he had had no intention of actually using the knife; so why had he done it? It had all been a macho act: a bit of braggadocio, for which he had suffered. And now thanks again to his own stupidity; here he was stretched naked again waiting to be beaten. From what the Warden had just said, this was to be the mother of all beatings; his goose was to be well and truly cooked and would be done to a turn by the time the Warden had finished with him. So in those few frightening moments whilst he braced himself for the horrible pain which was about to be visited on his backside, for the first time in his unhappy life, Brian May mentally looked before he leapt and held his tongue. He suddenly accepted that he had to endure what was coming; there was nothing at all he could do to avoid it; and finally he himself accepted the fact that he deserved it.

And so Brian May waited in complete silence for the worst and when it came it truly was worse than he could have ever imagined. It was exactly as the Warden had said; the dragon cane was capable of producing the most exquisitely excruciating pain imaginable; the Warden did not soft pedal on any stroke and by the time the first round of twelve cuts had been delivered, Brian May was already a howling, broken wreck. There was that agonising pause of appreciation between each successive stroke and then that fifteen minute pause between the two halves of the punishment seemed to go on for prolonging the agony forever. Then there was the exact overlaying of the first twelve welts with another dozen cuts, masterfully administered by the Warden. If the first cuts had been awful, the pain produced by this second series, where the cane landed on already beaten flesh, defied description; this was the worst beating Brain May had ever experienced in his life; worse than he had ever imagined it could ever be; and he screamed with pain at every stroke. When it was over, Kevin Pettifer and Stephen Shaw, who had witnessed the beating, stood back to admire what was by any standard a superbly well-beaten arse: a masterpiece of the experienced flagellator's art. Already the twelve deep, double cuts were turning from angry red to blue as the bruising set in and a few drops of blood were oozing out from places where the skin had been had been broken.

But – and it is a very important point it make – as he lay there in his agony, spread-eagled across the beating stool, Brian May suddenly realised that he had to change his ways. This horrible session of corporal chastisement – and, by any standards, it had truly been horrific – had finally got through to Brian May. And even as he lay there still unable to move because of the restraining straps, he knew that he was already a changed man. Never again would anyone do to him what had just been done to him; and the lad knew now that the remedy was in his own hands.

Kevin Pettifer opened the door and called in the two guards,

Jessop and Evans. He told them to release Brian May from the beating stool and to take him straight back to his room with the instruction: "See that his backside is well massaged with the approved antiseptic ointment before you leave him for the night; he must receive no further attention of any kind from anyone. Do I make myself clear?" Kevin knew full well that he was killing off the guards opportunity to work their forbidden sexual magic on May's arse; but on this occasion he truly wanted May to suffer from the pain he had just inflicted on him, in the distant hope it might have some beneficial effect on the lad whom he frankly saw as an irredeemable young miscreant: a lad who would leave Mouton Midmarsh and immediately revert to his criminal and antisocial activities.

And so although Brian May, when he had first been strapped across the horse before receiving the first of those twenty four, swingeing strokes of the cane, had hoped that he might be treated later, as he had some two weeks ago, to another dose of sexual stimulation by his two guards, found himself totally alone after the antiseptic ointment had been applied. But, in fact, stewing in his own juice of agonising pain as he had been left to do, brought home to him even more than ever that he had to change his ways. And so the young man finally managed to drop off to sleep well on his way to becoming a reformed character. Had Kevin Pettifer known how what he had just inflicted on May, had had such a radical influence on the lad's thinking, he would have been very pleased.

But as he did not, he said to Stephen Shaw as they sank into each others' arms that night for a session of gentle sex: "I hope that what I have just done to May will have the desired effect on his behaviour; but you know Stephen, I don't actually hold out much hope." But time was to prove him wrong; for when May, again a free man, left Moulton-Midmarsh some two years later and was finally let loose on the society which he had abused, he was a totally reformed young man. Never again, after that that monumental beating he had been given, did his arse and the cane meet. So Brian May was to prove to be one of the success stories of the new reform school; but there were many more failures, where inmates, when released, promptly reverted to their former lives of crime.

CHAPTER 8

The arrival of the first group of inmates transferred from the Great Endeavour accompanied by the incident en route provoked by Brian May, followed by the riot at supper the first evening, both of which had forced Kevin to take strict measures against all concerned and subject the entire group to severe corporal punishment had convinced Kevin of the need to show all new arrivals that they behave correctly form the moment they arrived at Moulton-Midmarsh. And so, in consultation with Stephen Shaw who was in charge of discipline, it was decided that all new entrants, whether transfers from elsewhere in the reform system as many were, or new entrants into the system sent there by juvenile court order, with or without mandatory birching orders as part their baggage, would automatically, on their very first day, be given an introductory, twelve cut, naked-arse beating initiate them into the rigorously enforced regime in which they would spend their time at Moulton-Midmarsh. Over the course of the next six months, as the school gradually received its full complement of detainees, Kevin and Stephen jointly thrashed their way through some two hundred lads. Add to this that during this time inmates, as lads inevitably do, committed offences which required correction, the cane was rarely still for long at Moulton-Midmarsh.

The birch was more or less the preserve of Kevin Pettifer, who as Warden was legally obliged to carry out birching sentences ordered by the courts on many new entrants. As time progressed, Kevin noticed that the courts were handing down heavier custodial sentences often accompanied by severe birchings, in an attempt to cut down on juvenile crime. As all arrivals whether transferred from other reform schools elsewhere or new arrivals from the courts, were subjected automatically to let us call it – the Mouton-Midmarsh Warm Welcome – Kevin usually delayed starting any mandatory birchings for about ten days to allow the lads' arses to recover from the initial, first-day encounter with the cane, which left all who experienced it with extremely sore backsides for a least a week. Then the lad in question was brought under guard to Kevin's office where he had to face the often draconian sentence of the court.

On these occasions Kevin always had Stephen Shaw on hand to assist him if necessary. On one occasion question, the lad in question, Colin Newton, was first made to stand to attention in front of Kevin who read out his sentence which he was told would be carried out immediately. The courts were always very specific in their sentences which left nothing at all to chance or to the discretion of the person administering the punishment. The precise number of strokes as well as the exact calibre – 2 mm or 4 mm – of the synthetic birch to be used were spelled out as was the fact that the birch was to be applied with maximum force and that any skin which was broken – as it surely would be with this vicious modern implement applied with maximum force to a victim's naked buttocks – was to be treated with an antiseptic ointment immediately following the punishment; then, leaving nothing at all to chance, the instructions went on to say that where a person had been sentenced to a series of birchings, he had to be declared fit and able stand subsequent punishments by a qualified doctor.

Now it has to be said that the young offenders who arrived with such birching schedules to their names were some of the worst and most dangerous of juvenile criminals in the country: young men who had no respect either for persons or property and all of whom had inflicted grievous bodily hard on some unsuspecting member of the public: as such, the courts had no compunction at all in handing down severe and painful mandatory birching sentences. In doing this the courts were bending to public opinion which was largely in favour of corporal punishment for young offenders; it was a reaction to the laissez-faire society which had been allowed to develop in the UK over a forty year period; a return to what most people thought of as the good old days.

But as Kevin, himself totally in favour of corporal punishment which he had practised for five years on the Great Endeavour, read some of the birching sentences handed down and which he as Warden was obliged to carry out, even he shuddered inwardly at the severity of the beatings which he found himself obliged to visit by law on the naked arses of these lads. Yes, they deserved to be punished; and yes, he would be more than happy to beat their arses; but did it have to be quite as severe as the law demanded?

It was eight o'clock that evening that the first lad to submit to a mandatory court ordered birching, Colin Newton, stood trembling in front of Kevin who read out his sentence to him; three birching sessions of twelve strokes each with the 4 mm birch – the heavy grade one – at monthly intervals. It was all very specific; totally cut and dried and left nothing to chance; Kevin's job was merely to follow orders. Asked if he had anything to say, Newton remained silent. Kevin ordered him to strip completely naked. The lad hesitated and did not move; but at a nod from Kevin to the two guards, he quickly found himself bound hand and foot, stripped totally naked across the beating stool. Kevin adjusted the height to ensure that the lad's arse was properly stretched before picking up the birch and starting the punishment. He saw that only slight traces remained of that first arrival-day beating which he had undergone, before he lifted the birch into the air and brought it down with a resounding crack in the middle of the lad's right buttock, producing an immediate howl of pain.

And then as stroke followed inevitable stroke, covering the whole of the lad's arse with the fine welts so characteristic of this modern implement, the howls grew ever louder until towards the end, Newton was screaming for Kevin to stop. But of course, his pleas went unanswered as he must have know they would and the sentence of twelve cuts was completed before the lad was finally released and taken by the guards back to his dormitory. But in view of the severity of what he had done, Kevin deprived the two guards of what they considered their normal perk; he told them to apply some antiseptic ointment to Newton's inflamed backside, but to go no further. So Newton's arse was spared a session of post-birching fucking, which, forbidden or not, would almost certainly have taken place had Kevin not specifically intervened.

This was only the second time at Moulton-Midmarsh that Kevin had used the birch; the first time had been on Brian May but with the lighter implement. And that occasion, although he had given the lad a thorough beating, leaving him screaming with pain, he had not applied the rod with anything like the maximum force he had now been obliged by law to do to Colin Newton. The twelve complementary strokes of the cane, which Stephen had given to an already birched Brian May, had left the lad with a truly well-beaten and very painful arse. But as Kevin assessed the results of his present handiwork before allowing the guards to take charge of Newton again, he saw that what he had done with the heavy grade birch had taken corporal punishment to an hitherto – for him at least – unheard of degree of pain, leaving the lad with what can but be described as a fully skinned arse.

The lad's buttocks had been scourged completely raw by the heavy-grade, 4mm birch and it was quite clear the he was in unbearably excruciating pain:pain which unbearable or not, had to be born. Luckily a lad's arse is able to support the apparently unsupportable and however bad it looks in its immediate post-flagellated state, it quickly heals and suffers neither permanent damage nor lasting effects. But notwithstanding the absence of any lasting effects, a beating with the heavy grade birch is not anything that any sensible lad would ever wish to repeat. But given his sentence, that evening as he tried to sleep, Newton suffered not only the temporary, physical agony of his well-deserved punishment, but also the mental stress that he knew he had two more sessions of the same to endure: not a pleasant prospect for the next two months. One would imagine that Colin Newton was well on the way to learning his lesson!

This experience had taken corporal punishment to a hitherto unimagined level for Kevin. Undoubted expert though he was with the rattan cane, every nuance of which he had mastered by practical application of the cane to the naked arses of hundreds of cadets on board the Great Endeavour, he had never before seen anything like the results produced by a heavy-grade birch applied with maximum force; the words, "frighteningly awesome," sprang immediately to mind! It added a whole new dimension to the not-so-gentle-art of corporal punishment. He saw at first sight, that results of the 4mm birch compared to the lighter 2 mm version were astoundingly different. But then he remembered from his hazy knowledge of mathematics, that a 4mm circle had not twice the area but four times that of a 2 mm circle; from which it followed that, for a given length, the 4 mm cylindrical rod had four times the mass of its 2 mm homologue; and four times the mass meant four times as much force; when that rod lands on its target, the recipient's naked arse, it stops dead in its tracks, yielding up in the form of extreme pain, all that kinetic energy which it had been given on its downward trajectory by its wielder. So it was not surprising that the results of this onslaught were very much worse – or from the beater's point of view better – than those obtained with a 2 mm rod.

This is, in fact, a fine example of Newton's second Law of Motion applied to solve a simple problem: put in terms of beating a lad's arse, the pain delivered depends on the force of the impact of the rod and the force is the product of the mass multiplied by the deceleration. Musing on all these fact, Kevin realised that he had just performed what had to be his most memorable act of flagellation ever. Kevin found himself in a high state of sexual arousal after he had finished with Newton. Stephen Shaw too, was in a similar state as the tenting of his trousers testified. Kevin realised that it had been a wise decision to make the two guards wait outside whilst the punishment was administered, for had they witnessed what had been an extreme punishment, they would surely have been so erotically psyched up by what they had seen that poor Newton would have barely got back to his dormitory before being raped.

That evening as Kevin and Stephen relieved their own pent-up sexual tensions as they always did, in a long bout of gay sex, Stephen said: "You know Kevin, what you just did to Newton has opened up new ground as far as beating arse is concerned. How the lad supported what you were legally obliged to do to him, I have no idea, And how he is going to live with himself for the next two months in the knowledge that he will twice again to received the same treatment; frankly if that does not straighten him out, then nothing ever will."

This exemplary punishment, which was to be the fate of numerous delinquents as they arrived at the school with birching sentences in their hands, complemented the strict punishment regime which Kevin and Stephen imposed on the inmates. All new detainees were systematically beaten on the day of their arrival at the school irrespective of whether they had a mandatory birching sentence hanging over their heads or not. Kevin saw this procedure as a "we-will-stand-no-nonsense-from-you" warning to new entrants that they had better be on their best behaviour forthwith unless they wished to spend their time at the school with permanently sore arses. Then individuals with mandatory birching orders, such as Colin Newton, suffered their court-imposed "fate-worse-than death" a few days later. Add to these two procedures the necessity for corrective beatings on a regular basis to keep the inmates in order and punish them for the misdemeanours lads inevitably commit, and you will see that the cane and birch were seldom silent for long at Moulton-Midmarsh.

The iron will Kevin Pettifer imposed on his charges led to a relatively stable environment in which the most serious young offenders in the country were confined and disciplined for their misdeeds. If at the end of their confinement many lads left unrepentant and unreformed, ready to revert to the life of crime which had brought them there in the first place, it was not for a lack of trying to reform them. At Moulton-Midmarsh, if detected, no misdeed, however small, went unpunished. The Department of Juvenile Corrections sent its inspectors to Moulton-Midmarsh and expressed itself extremely satisfied with the results of its new high-security venture. Kevin Pettifer and Stephen Shaw basked in what I suppose must be classed as glory. But more importantly they were happy with their lot at Moulton-Midmarsh and happy to have each other.

And here concludes the amazing history of Kevin Pettifer.

THE END