I say male-male rather than homosexual sex, as many of the young men who indulged in the practice were not gay at all; it is just that human nature being what it is, and being young males, they needed sex with another warm body and as females were not available, they did the only think they could: they fucked each other. Usually it was purely a case of sheer lust, but human sexual behaviour being notoriously unpredictable, occasional true loving relationships did develop. In the main such permanent relationships were among crew members, who were more or less permanently assigned to the ship; and on board the Great Endeavour, there were a number of long term relationships, among which were Kevin Pettifer and his partner, the young rating called Stephen Shaw. In fact, at the time the above incident took place, Kevin and Stephen were an item and had been so for over four years. After a beating, Kevin and Stephen usually finished up together in bed, releasing the erotic tension which had been built up during the beating in an orgy of gay sex.
But to return to Brian May, still stretched in his naked agony across the beating horse; Kevin Pettifer finally put down the cane and told the two young sailors that they should attend to what was euphemistically called the clear-up. As he himself turned towards the door and prepared to leave to take a well-deserved, long, warm shower in his own cabin, he heard the inimitable sound of trouser flies being unzipped; and as he glanced back, he saw both the young studs were pulling off their T shirts and one had already undone the belt of his pants, as with obvious enthusiasm they prepared to give May's arse a final dose of a different sort of rod before releasing him from the horse and letting him limp off back to his own berth. Kevin smiled inwardly to himself as he thought of what were, judging from the bulging crotches of the two sailors, two large, rock-hard cocks and where they would very shortly be docked. He doubted that what the unfortunate Brian May was shortly about to experience would fall into the category of anything vaguely approaching the concept of tender, loving care.
Both young studs were totally erotically aroused by the beating they had just witnessed and they now wanted – indeed needed – to release the sexual tension which had built up; and that release was to be attained by fucking Brian May's arse. May himself who like many of his ilk was in some ways wise beyond his years; knew that his anus was about to be battered sequentially by two large cocks whose owners were interested only in their own sexual satisfaction; this was to be anal sex at its most brutal; May was to have his anus stretched and fucked hard in quick succession and there was not a damn thing he could do to prevent it. Of course May, like so many of his co-detainees, was not a novice in the matter of either the giving or the receiving of anal sex. Nor was this the first time that he had been beaten and then subsequently fucked; for the combination of a beating followed by a fucking was an absolute classic in the reform school ambit with which he was only too familiar.
And had he been asked whether he would like to have – to put it at its most delicate – his anus sexually stimulated, he might well have said yes. As one wag put it: "If you know you are going to be fucked and cannot avoid it, then you might as well sit back and enjoy it." And it is quite true as May himself knew from past experience, that anal sex, even when brutal, can still be enjoyable for the receiver. And strange to relate it is a fact that anal sex immediately after a beating can have a very soothing effect on the recipient. So even though Kevin Pettifer more or less knew what was in store for May, he did not worry too much; in fact, he did not worry at all; to be brutally honest, he never gave the matter another thought; Brian May did really deserve all that was coming to him.
CHAPTER 2
Kevin Pettifer was just dressing himself again after his shower when an ensign knocked on his door, bearing a verbal message: "Sorry to disturb you sir, but the Commander would like to see you as soon as possible." Kevin quickly put back on his full uniform and cap and reported fully dressed to the cabin of the ship's commanding officer, a young upper-class, commissioned officer, Commander Simon Devere-Savile. As the Great Endeavour, although afloat, could hardly be said to be at sea as she had been moored just of Plymouth for the last five years, the Admiralty, in its infinite wisdom, had seen fit to dispense with a fully experienced, sea-going captain and had put a lower ranking officer in charge. Simon Devere-Savile was the latest of a series of young men who had been condemned for a year or so, to do their stint aboard the Great Endeavour, a posting which was seen as a sort of a half-way house to better things. The Royal Navy was there to defend the country and win wars but not to try to act as a reform school for irredeemable young miscreants; or anyway that was the generally held opinion; the Great Endeavour was considered by the upper echelons at the Admiralty as a bit of a joke: an anachronism, where an upper class twit like Devere-Savile, a classical example of a chinless-wonder, could be parked for a couple of years in the knowledge that he could not do too much damage.
The commissioned officers, especially the likes of Devere-Savile who anyway came from a privileged, upper-class background, found it very difficult to engage socially with members of lower ranks. On this occasion, Kevin could see from the outset that his commanding office was really very ill at ease with him. He had, of course, no idea why he had been summoned to this meeting. Dispensing with any attempt at small talk, Devere-Savile plunged straight into the matter at hand: "Pettifer, thank you for coming; stand at ease as I have some rather momentous and somewhat disturbing news to impart to you. I have just been informed by the Admiralty that at the end of this year, the rehabilitation mission aimed at the young miscreants on board the Great Endeavour will be terminated. In fact, the decision has been taken to sell off the Great Endeavour for scrap. The Admiralty has found that with it budgets severely curtailed, it can no longer afford to support the ship and its activities and as the Department of Juvenile Corrections, which as you know depends on the Home Office, is unwilling to pick up the entire tab for the Great Endeavour, I am afraid that this is the end of the long collaboration between the Navy and them. So, Pettifer, I am afraid at the end of this year you will find yourself looking for a new job in the Navy, if that is where you wish to remain; but I see looking at your file, that you signed on for five years, which period comes to an end more or less at the end of the year, at which time you will be free, if you so wish, to leave the Navy. However, I am sure, given your sterling services aboard this ship over the past five years, the Navy will only be too happy to find you another posting."
So that was it; come the end of the year Kevin would be out of a job. And not only would he be jobless, but the entire crew would also be posted elsewhere. So not surprisingly, the problem uppermost in his mind was what he and his long-standing partner, Leading Hand Stephen Shaw, were to do. This unlikely sexual liaison between Kevin, a non-commissioned officer, and Stephen, a rating had endured for more than four years. Kevin and Stephen had been an item almost from the day they first met; it had been love at first sight which had occurred in the punishment room as Kevin wielded the cane on some poor unfortunate lad's backside; and for both of them nothing in the intervening time had shaken their devotion to each other; theirs was a match made in heaven.
It is probable that the entire crew knew of their liaison, but in public both young men conducted themselves with utter decorum. Shaw always showed the expected deference due to his superior officer and in turn Pettifer treated his lover no differently to any other rating. But now their liaison faced a serious problem; how were the two to keep together when the Great Endeavour finally sank into the oblivion of the breaker's yard? One way or another, Kevin had to to find a solution which would allow Stephen and him to remain together. Even to think that they might have to split up, make Kevin feel sick; it was just one of those things which could never be allowed to happen. For Kevin, Stephen Shaw was an indispensable and permanent part of his life as vital to him as was the air he breathed; and it has to be said that Stephen felt exactly the same about Kevin: they were a totally inseparable pair.
Kevin had really no idea what he should do, but fate, as it so often does, intervened some three weeks later, in the form of an official looking letter in an OHMS brown paper envelope, from the Department of Juvenile Corrections – the DoJC for short – which arrived out of the blue addressed to him. This contained an invitation and a travel warrant – first class no less – inviting him to go to London for a preliminary discussion about a new, as yet undefined, post which was about to be created and for which the writer of the letter at the DoJC thought he might be the ideal candidate. It was signed by a person unknown to Kevin, but who had the title: Principal Undersecretary. Armed with his invitation, Kevin sought and obtained permission from his CO, Commander Devere-Savile, to attend the interview and a few days later left the doomed Great Endeavour for a visit to London where he presented himself at the appointed hour at the offices of the DoJC.
