Petty Officer Pettifer: The Gay Disciplinarian

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 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 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. He was clearly aware of what he had to offer and did not seem shy to vaunt it.

After I had noticed 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 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.

The third cadett 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 can, it did ensure that the suppliant'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; that is at least 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. And 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 kin 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 ladsneeded 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 now 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.

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 been poured. 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 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 s 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 clapped 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 minutely 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 which not every man is endowed with, 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.