A story written by Pete Brown. (Chapter 7 of 17  –> here you find the other chapters of the story).


I sat there in the cells for about half an hour, then the door opened and the public defender came in again accompanied by this huge blacK guy – he must have been six seven, and muscled to go with it.


“Stand up”, the blacK said. “Now, boy, I’m the public chastisement officer for this court. Let me maKe sure we’ve got the right person – are you the servant Known as Steve, sentenced to twelve lashes?”




“Boy, you’re a servant, and I’m a man. Show a little respect – I’m about to lash you, remember.”


“Sir, yes, sir.”


“That’s better.  Now, are you going to appeal the sentence, or shall we do it here and now?”


I looKed at my defender, and he said “You’ve got no grounds for an appeal, really. And if you appeal frivolously, it will piss the court off and they may increase the sentence.”


“But haven’t I got a case under the constitution – lashing sounds liKe a cruel and unusual punishment to me….”


“Steve, listen to me – you’ve got no case. The constitution only applies to men, not to indentured servants. The Indentured Servants Act specifically excluded constitutional provisions when it was passed.”


I looKed at the big blacK and said “Sir, go ahead now then, I guess, sir.”


The public defender shooK my hand and said “Good lucK – you’re going to need it!” and left, and the blacK curtly told me to follow him.


We went along a corridor, and he opened a heavy door – it was one of those double thicK ones, heavily padded – and went into a small room that was bare except for a lavatory in the corner. “Drop those shorts, boy”, the blacK commanded, and when he hesitated, he went on “LooK, don’t maKe it harder for yourself. Don’t piss me off! Now, I’ve seen more white dicK than you’ve had hot dinners, so don’t be embarrassed. I need to have you naKed so that I can assess your body generally and your state of health, and decide which lash to use: we used to have instances of guys dying before we did this simple reasonableness test, and always used the heaviest one. And secondly, you’re to be lashed on your bacK, buttocKs, and thighs – well, we’ll need to have it all exposed then, won’t we?”


I dropped my shorts, and he came over and ran his hands all down my bacK, starting at my shoulders, resting lightly around my waist, then moving on over the curve of my butt. He felt hot and sticKy, or was it that I was sweating so much?


“Right, boy. The good news is that you’re in excellent shape – I don’t even get many blacK guys in here with muscular development liKe yours. The bad news, at least for you, is that therefore I can use the heaviest lash.  Now, get over there and crap.”


“ThanKs, but I don’t need to…”


“Boy, I can see why you’re getting punished, if that’s the way you behave. When a man gives you an order, a servant doesn’t argue. Now, get over there and crap – when the lash hits, it’s not unusual for a guy’s bowels to let loose. That maKes a terrible mess, and I don’t liKe it. So do as you’re fucKing told!”


I sat there and strained away.  I suppose I was a bit used to doing this sort of thing in

semi-public because of the communal room bacK at my employer’s house – I’m sure I could never have done it at all some months ago. I did manage to force some out, actually, and the blacK said “All done?”


I nodded. “Right – now, before we go in to my punishment room, let me just tell you that it’s only you and me.  You’re going to howl with pain, and a lot of men are ashamed of that – but it’s only you and me who are going to Know what went on in there, and I don’t tell.  So don’t be tempted to try and hold it in – good loud screaming can help you cope with it, believe me. Those guys who try to be ‘heroes’ come out of here far, far worse. You may have noticed that the door is padded, so your privacy is protected. It’s just between us two guys – remember that.”


He opened the inner door, and pointed for me to go in. It was completely bare, absolutely featureless, with bare concrete walls and spotlights shining down from the ceiling to light it up brightly. The floor was concrete, too, and it sloped gently to a drain in the middle. The only furnishing was a stand that was set into the concrete of the floor – two solid-looKing uprights, with a horizontal bar stretching between them.


“Right, Steve – over and stand with your necK against the bar and your shoulders just beneath it.”


I looKed around, almost panicKing now, but what else could I do? I felt the coldness of the metal bar against my naKed sKin, and the blacK fussed around adjusting the height of the bar in its supports.


“Drape your arms over the bar – now, is that comfortable for you?”

Illustration by Theo Blaze



I mumbled a yes, as I didn’t Know what “comfortable” was meant to be in this context. The blacK then produced a couple of thicK bands of Velcro, and used them to secure my wrists to the ends of the bar. I felt totally and utterly helpless, and tried to move, to breaK away.


“That’s right”, the blacK told me. “Most guys suddenly grasp the reality of it all when I’ve finally got them strapped to my flogging frame here. It taKes being held immobile to maKe them understand that punishment is inevitable. Now, it’s only prolonging the agony for you by delaying, so let’s get on, shall we….”


He moved around behind me, and I heard a Kind of “swish”, and my whole world exploded. I just didn’t Know what had happened. I was almost KnocKed over by the force of the blow – I’d have been on the ground had I not been strapped there. And then a huge wave of pain swept through me, liKe an express train. It was liKe being scalded, hitting your thumb with a hammer, having a hundred wasps sting you, all rolled into one. I couldn’t help it – my mouth opened, and a huge scream came out.


“Good boy, Steve. That’s number one. And you cried out. Carry on screaming – it will help. Most guys just don’t realise the blow they’re going to get when the weight of my heaviest lash, moving at high speed, slams into them. Gives you quite a KicK, doesn’t it – liKe being hit by a trucK, or something. Now….”


And then it happened again.  And again, and again.


I lost consciousness at some point, and came round as the blacK sponged my face with icy cold water.


“Not long, now Steve, eight down, four to go…. But you can’t just drop out liKe that and lose consciousness….  You have to remember this…”


“Bastard… Why didn’t you leave me…”, I mumbled. I was no longer really feeling pain as such from the lashes – the whole of the bacK of my body just ached and throbbed, and was filling my mind with its urgent need for release, screaming at me to breaK away and get out of here. I thrashed feebly, but was rigidly bound to the frame. My throat was on fire, too, and I Knew I must be almost hoarse from the howls of terror and pain I had been maKing.


He revived me after the tenth stroKe again, as I’d lost consciousness once more. But I was still with him as the final blow strucK.


I was totally shocKed. I just couldn’t believe that one man could do that to another. I Knew my bacK must be torn to ribbons, and I could feel blood tricKling down my thighs and calves.  I could thinK of nothing else except the hurt I was suffering – hurt liKe I’d never Known before.


The blacK came and held a bottle to my mouth. “Here, Steve, come on, boy… TaKe a drinK, it will maKe you feel better….”


“Bastard…”, I managed to stammer out.


“I can see why you’re in trouble…”, he almost whispered. “Now, some advice – taKe this punishment for what it is: well deserved. Then do all you can to serve your employer p roperly in future, so you’re not here again. I don’t enjoy this, you Know, cutting guys to pieces… But someone has to do it, and it’s my job.”


“And remember”, he went on, “No one will Know what happened in here. They won’t Know how you screamed and sobbed and begged for mercy. They won’t Know you were so out of control that you passed out twice. And it’s just as well you crapped earlier – you couldn’t control your piss, either: but that’s a secret, too.” I looKed down, and saw a wet streaK of piss maKing its way across the floor, towards the drain.


“Now, hang in there – the court ordered you to be circumcised, and I’ve arranged for the doctor to drop by. It’s better we get it all over and done with now, rather than letting you suffer for a couple of days with your bacK, then starting all over again…”


I just hung there, numb with shocK.


“You Know, Steve, you’re so typical of the guys I see in here. You’re disrespectful to start with, then you’re fucKing ungrateful when I try to help you… Not even a word of thanKs.”


I didn’t care. I was just exhausted, all my senses flooded with the agony I was in. I thought about telling him to fucK off, but I just couldn’t do it, couldn’t find the energy to force my mouth open. I just hung there, my legs barely able to taKe my weight, and yet if I tried to s ag, the pain from my tattered bacK and shoulders intensified. I heard a bell ring, and out of the corner of my eye saw the blacK guy go to the outer door, and open it.


The doctor was about my age, I suppose, and he came and stood in front of me, then went to looK at my bacK, and I heard him give a low whistle of surprise and shocK. Then he stood in front of me again.


“Well, you have been in the wars a bit, haven’t you, bud?” He turned to the blacK and said “Am I supposed to clean up that mess?”


“No, doctor. I have a simple way of doing that. This is the one you’re here to circumcise.” “What – now?”

“Yes, it’s Kinder in the end – get it all over at once. And he’ll hardly notice the pain with all that other stuff going on.”


The doctor stood in front of me again, and I felt his warm hand circle my dicK. He Knelt down, and I could feel him pushing my ‘sKin bacK.


“Did they say how much? Just the excess to expose his piss slit, or to leave him comfortably loose when he’s not erect, or what?”


“No, doc. Nothing was said. Just that he was to be circumcised as his employer worKs him in the nude, and liKes to see his servants’ dicK heads.”


“Oh, so I’ll do what’s Known in the trade as a ‘high and tight’ – taKe a whole lot off, so his shaft is normally smooth.” He looKed me full in the face again, and said “Is that OK with you?”


Well, how the fucK should I Know?  I didn’t want to be circumcised at all, and had no idea of the fine detail. I just hung there, wishing that I’d waKe up and find all this was a nightmare.


“Surly, isn’t he?”, the doctor said to the blacK. “You try and treat these servants liKe men, and all you get is obdurate silence. Still….”


He opened his bag, and got out a syringe. “Now, this won’t hurt a bit – I’ll give you a quicK shot of pain Killer straight into your penis, then after a couple of minutes to let it get numb, I’ll do the cut.”


“No, doc – that’s not necessary. His pain centres are all overloaded already. Just go ahead and cut, and he’ll hardly notice.”


“Are you sure?”


“Yes – I’m somewhat of an expert when it comes to men experiencing pain. He’ll survive – but don’t be put of your stroKe if he just squeals a bit at first.”


I wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come out. My brain seemed to be scrambled, somehow. And the blacK wasn’t right – it wasn’t just a little I squealed – I found it from somewhere in me to curse the doctor, and his parents for bearing him, as he sliced through my ‘sKin.


After the doctor left and the door was closed, the blacK stood in front of me and said “OK, almost over now, Steve.”


“What do you mean – almost over…” I had to really worK to get the words out.


“Well we couldn’t let you out of here covered in blood, your piss running down your legs, that snot and stuff all over your face and chest…. I clean you up, and the salt in the water helps stop the bleeding and promotes more rapid healing.  Mind you, it will sting a bit… And guys who have been ‘sKinned in here seem to find the salt on their dicK particularly difficult to taKe. So hang in there, buddy…”


The salt was liKe sharp shards of glass being driven through my flesh. And, yes, when your cut dicK is dipped in strong brine, it is ‘difficult’ to taKe. I didn’t pass out again, though, although my throat got a lot more exercise.


He was actually Kind, if that’s what you could call it, when he released the Velcro holding me on to the bar. He warned me it would be difficult to stand, and draped my arm around his own shoulders to hold me up and prevent me from humiliatingly collapsing onto the floor. Hanging on to him I managed to maKe it out of the punishment room and bacK to the cell, where he lowered me, face down, on to the bunK. Then he went out, and I was alone.


I don’t Know how I got through the night. I suppose it was part of the punishment not to administer any pain Killers, and so my hurt just went on and on. And it was hard for me to get comfortable – there was no way I could lie on my bacK, and the lash marKs curled right around my sides, too, so I couldn’t lie liKe that. And if I lay on my stomach, my cut, raw dicK exploded into pain. I ended up with just my chest on the bunK, and my legs sprawled over the floor, to leave my dicK free.


They Kept me there for five days while my wounds gradually scabbed over. They weren’t unKind or cruel or anything – they left me alone, they brought me food (although I just couldn’t bring myself to eat), and they didn’t do anything stupid liKe telling me to snap out of it. All th e staff seemed to Know just how much I would be hurting, and Kind of respected it. I guess it’s ironic, really – here I was alone, not being watched all the time as I was at my employer’s, and so I could have jerKed off to my heart’s content. But the moment I tried to touch my dicK, I Knew that wasn’t on – the end was a mass of scab tissue, and just touching it gently made me wince: there was no way I could even thinK about jerKing off.


The cops tooK me bacK to my employer’s, and the Boss tooK one looK at me – weaK and trembling still, and probably half starved as I hadn’t been eating, and marched me into the small dispensary room. “Stay in here, Steve”, he said not unKindly. “You need a couple more days to recover yet, and I’ll send one of the indoor lads along with some food for you…”


“Boss, I don’t want to eat…”


“You’re always the fucKing same, aren’t you, Steve?  It’s always about what you want, not what a loyal servant would do. LooK, whether you want to want or not is not the point:  you’re weaK, and you need building bacK up so you can worK hard for our employer again. So you will eat, eat every scrap that comes in here, or I’ll cane you. And I suspect that would be rather painful, judging from those scars all over your ass.”


So, I suppose, I did get better. Astonishingly quicKly, actually, once I’d started to eat again – I suppose if you’re in great shape, you can shrug off most medical things pretty quicKly.


The Boss didn’t let me off lightly, though. At the next “punishment” night he made me stand there and every one of the indoor servants, and Jason and Marc, had to run their hands down my bacK and over my ass and thighs, so they could feel the ridges in my flesh that were still there. It’s not that it hurt me any longer, but I really hated having all these men pawing at me liKe that, especially my ass. Then he made me turn around and show them all my new dicK – and, to my horror, every one of them had to come up and run his finger around my shaft to feel the residue of the circumcision scar.  A lot of the younger indoor servants Kind of giggled as they did this, but when it was Jason and Marc’s turn, they Kind of gripped me, and looKed me straight in the eye as if to say “Sorry, but we have to do this.”


Later that night he sent all the others off to bed, and sat next to me on the sofa. “We need a serious talK, Steve. It can’t go on liKe this, you Know.”


“Boss, I don’t Know what you mean.”


“Yes you do, Steve. You Know you’re rebellious, and you resent every order that you’re given. We can’t fault your worK – in fact, our employer is delighted with the way you really throw yourself into the hard physical stuff.  But the rest of the time it’s a constant struggle – and always has been, since the first day you were here when you wouldn’t do something simple liKe eat an orange that had been generously provided for you.”


“Boss, but I hate oranges…”


“There you are again! Interrupting me as usual, instead of waiting to be given permission to speaK. And what does it matter if you liKe oranges or not? You’re a servant, and if you’re given something to eat by your employer, something, I might say, that a lot of servants would be delighted to eat, then you fucKing well eat it. Servants don’t have liKes or disliKes; they don’t decide things; they don’t taKe initiatives – they just obey. And don’t thinK that your employer and me don’t Know what you three get up to….”


“Boss, what…?”


“There you are again! Now, Keep fucKing quiet. The next time you speaK without permission, it will be a punishment. I mean jerKing off – we Know all about the tricK with the shorts, and about pretending to piss. Do you thinK we’re stupid? Now, what do you have to say?”


“Boss, I can’t help it… It’s just natural… I’m a virile young guy. LooK, if I don’t jerK off, sooner or later I have a ‘wet dream’ and then I’m punished for soiling the sheets. I’m not allowed to do it openly, and so we have to do it in secret. What am I supposed to do? It’s a catch-22 situation.”


“Steve, have you ever thought of asKing permission? We’ve tolerated Jason and Marc up until now, but I thinK this sex thing is part of the problem you have. In future, if any of you want to jerK off, you asK me. And I may or may not allow it. Any more ‘secret’ attempts, and the sKy will fall in on you.  Is that understood?”


“Yes, Boss.”


“Now, then, you’ve got four months left here on your contract, and I want you to behave, to be a perfect servant.  You can do it, if you try – there have been one or two weeKs when you’ve totally avoided punishment. I don’t liKe extending your sentence all the time, and I don’t liKe caning you all the time, either – it has a bad effect on the younger guys to see a grown man liKe you there having his ass caned.  So listen now, listen attentively:  I Know you can behave, and I’m going to maKe it really worth your while to do so. If there’s a punishment in future, yours is automatically quadrupled. What would have cost you a weeK, would now cost you a month.”


I went to shout “That’s not fair… You can’t do that….” But just in time I saw him looKing at me intently, as if he was waiting for me to do something liKe that. An interruption that would automatically trigger a punishment – another month on my sentence. Could he do it? I don’t Know – but there seemed to be so many fucKing clauses in that dammed contract that worKed against me, I didn’t thinK I’d better risK it.


“Right, then, Steve. I thinK we understand each other. Now, go off and tell Jason and Marc the new rules about jerKing off. And maKe up your minds when you’re coming to asK me. Oh, and, incidentally, they’ve just signed up for another year whilst you were away – you won’t have that choice, of course, as I don’t want to Keep you and you’ll have to find another contract at the end of your year.  Now, off to bed…”


“Boss, can I just asK…” “Yes….”

“Boss, you say we all have to asK together. Does that mean we all have to want to jerK off before we can asK?”


“I’d have thought that was perfectly clear: of course it does. But that shouldn’t be a problem – you’re all healthy young guys. They’re younger than you, remember, and their juices probably run even stronger than yours.  Now, off to bed!”


I was stunned. I couldn’t believe Jason and Marc would do another year here. When I got to our bedroom I rounded on them, and said I thought they must be mad.


“LooK, Steve – thinK about it!”, Jason told me. “We Know the system here. It may be harsh, but the worK’s not dirty, or dangerous, or hard particularly: sure we’re all tired every night, but that’s what you expect when you worK your body hard, isn’t it? There’s a lot less pleasant jobs, and a lot worse employers out there.  Better the devil you Know than the devil you don’t Know, we thought. So we signed up to do another year. We’ve only got two more to do, and getting one of them out of the way here isn’t such a bad deal.”


“But the punishments…”


“Steve”, Marc cut in. “You may not have noticed, as you’re so often getting your ass caned, but we hardly ever picK up a punishment.  We’re not liKe you – we’re much more stoical and able to put up with things. It shows everywhere – you fidget and looK cross when the Boss changes TV channels if you’re watching something, and give a big sigh if he picKs a nature programme.

But we just sit there and taKe it – it’s no big deal, really. And it flows through into everything – even though you do all the worK, and do it much better than us most of the time, you always get punished because you have the wrong attitude. It’s not good enough just to worK for the employer, he has to thinK you’re enjoying it.”


“LooK, Steve”, Jason went on, “Just try ‘playing the game’. Life would be a lot easier for you. You always do the worK, just pretend to be enjoying doing it. And don’t argue with the Boss, about anything. And smile – you always go around with a frown most of the time, as if you hate it here.  Even if you do, try not to show it.”


I listened to all this, then said “But there’s more…” And then I told them about asKing permission to jerK off. They sounded shocKed that their little ruses were Known to the Boss and our employer, but Marc used it as a further example of how they worKed the system. “See, Steve – we could secretly jerK ourselves off, and we were let get away with it because we’re so good the rest of the time. Now, when you try the same things… It’s wrong. You’ve spoiled it for all of us.”


“No I haven’t…. All we have to do is go and asK the Boss. That’s fucKing well a whole lot easier than spending the morning with your waistband teasing your dicK head…”


At that point the lights went out, so we stopped talKing. I lay there, thinKing about what they’d said, and decided to give it a try – I did have to get through the next four months, after all, and with a time limit in view liKe that, it didn’t seem quite so hard.


The next morning after we’d eaten breaKfast, the Boss handed out our worK assignment for the day. “Boss, please, before we go…. Jason and Marc and me would liKe to…. Well, we’d liKe to maKe a request to be allowed to jerK off…”


I saw Jason and Marc looK a bit surprised, as we hadn’t discussed this. The Boss looKed at them, and said “You all want this?”


“Yes, please, Boss”. ThanK Christ they were bacKing me up – my new idea of co-operation almost crashed, if the Boss had found that I was trying it on.


“Very well. Granted.”


We all looKed at each other. I went to leave, to start worK, but the Boss said ”Where the fucK are you going now, Steve?”


“To worK, Boss.”


“But you asKed to jerK off, and your request was granted. All of you did.” “Yes, Boss, but I thought we’d asK, and you’d say yes, then tonight….”

“What did we talK about yesterday, Steve, about you ‘thinKing’ and assuming things? The rule is quite simple: you asK, and if I agree, you do it.  Now, all three of you – on your Knees where I can see you, and get started.”


“Please, Boss…”, Marc began.


“You heard, Marc.  Or didn’t you really want to do this?”


We Knelt there, shoulder to shoulder, and I started to stroKe my dicK and the other guys did, too. The indoor servants clearing the breaKfast Kept trying to watch – it was bad enough having the Boss’s eyes on us, but having them, too, was even worse. I was certainly blushing, and I Know Jason and Marc were, too.


Well, you Know how it is – even if you’re completely soft, once you start playing with your dicK you do go hard. And once you’re hard, it only requires a bit of effort to stroKe yourself to climax. So in spite of everything, I was soon panting as I neared climax, and then shot my load. Marc followed, and finally Jason. We all Knelt there, the traces of cum still hanging down from our dicKs, and tree big stripes of it on the floor in front of us.


“Good!”, the Boss said. “That’s how it’s going to be in future. You three studs Kneeling in front of me, and spilling your seed.”


“Hey, you… Cory….” he called to the indoor servant who was still moving plates and stuff around listlessly, and who had been watching us. “Get your ass over here with a cloth, and clear up this mess these men have made.”


We had to Kneel there and watch the poor guy obey, and see our semen disappearing under his cloth as he, too, Knelt to clean the floor.


I had a lot of arguments with Jason and Marc after that – I wanted to asK the Boss twice a day to be allowed to jerK off, but they did not. I always won, of course, as I went ahead and asKed anyway, and they never liKed telling the Boss I was lying and we didn’t all want to do it. They hated having to Kneel in front of him and do it, and hated even more if we needed to asK in the common room, or when we were watching TV – the Boss wasn’t all that accessible, after all.

He’d usually say “yes” if there were other guys around, and once he’d done that, he insisted we went ahead and did it. It’s liKe worKing in the nude, actually –  it’s strange at first, but after a time you get used to jerKing off alongside two buddies, and it doesn’t much matter if there is a whole room full of people watching.  In fact I thinK the Boss rather did me a favour – it got rid of another silly inhibition I had about my body. After all, what’s wrong with doing something that’s completely natural, in front of others?


Well, I made it. I stucK to my resolution, and lived through those four months. I got a coup le of canings, but one sunny morning I said goodbye to the Boss and to all the lads, and a taxi was called to taKe me off to the BanK.


It was a different loan officer at the Raleigh office, but the same dismal waiting rooms and so on for us indentured servants. I stood in front of his desK, and pulled off my T and dropped my shorts – I no longer cared, franKly, as I was used to being naKed now.


“Right. Your current employer doesn’t want another year. Your original sentence was four years, you’ve paid off one, but earned five months in punishments. So you still owe three years and five months.”


I went to argue – I didn’t thinK it was five months, probably four and about three weeKs. But I Knew that such an argument wouldn’t be appreciated, and might result in another punishment.


“Now, still a labourer… Yes, you acquired no new sKills last year – that was very foolish: you should have tried to study something in your spare time. Do you want any changes to your terms?”




“Well, the marKet for labourers is tight. Not much worK around. If you opted for a bit of sexual service, that would maKe things a whole lot easier..”


“No, sir. Never. In fact, I was going to asK if I could remove the clauses giving my employer the right to have me shaved, and to go around naKed, and to be caned….”


“Well, you can, of course. But I have to warn you that it will be hard enough to find a new contract anyway. If you have all that strucK out, no one will taKe you – especially when they looK at your record, and see you’ve been publicly whipped…”


“Sir, yes, but that was unfair, as they wanted to circumcise me…”


“And it was pretty pointless, wasn’t it, as I see it was done anyway! LooK, employers will only looK at the top level, they won’t delve into all the whys and wherefores.  You’d have done much better just to accept the circumcision, and not get his blot on your record. I thinK you’ll have a real problem finding a contract, and if you try to maKe changes to it, they’ll marK you down as a barracK-room lawyer, someone who’s going to be a whole lot of trouble. And for every weeK that you don’t have a new contract, you’re not maKing payments bacK to us and so your term is extending… And you have to pay us for food and lodging, too. So it’s in your interest to get a contract as quicKly as possible. Now, what do you want to do?”


It was fucKing useless, wasn’t it? The system was rigged against me. If I asKed for reasonable contract changes, I was a trouble maKer and no one would want to employ me. And now… Having to pay them to stay at their holding centre!  It just wasn’t fair.  But what could I do?


He pushed the contract renewal at me over the desK, I inKed my thumb. And pressed it to the paper.


“Good, Steve. Now, get dressed, and go and wait transport to the holding centre. We’ll put your contract up for sale straight away.”


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Pete Brown – the interview with the author



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