Evin Pettifer - the Warden

This is the third and last of a group of three related stories:

Petty Officer Pettifer

Pettifer the Gay Disciplinarian

Pettifer – The Warden

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CHAPTER 1

Kevin Pettifer: Warrant Officer Kevin Pettifer, to give him his full title, stood, cane still in his hand, and looked with a sense of great personal satisfaction at the richly welted, muscular arse of the young man whom he had just finished beating who was still strapped across the punishment horse. Applying correction in the form of severe corporal punishment with a well-chosen, top quality, rattan-cane, in this case two dozen swingeing cuts, to the backside of the young delinquent, a cadet named Brian May, was part and parcel of his daily life as Chief Physical Education Officer and Head of Discipline aboard HMTS Great Endeavour: a floating training ship for hard core, young miscreants aged from sixteen to eighteen years old, owned and operated by the British Royal Navy in conjunction with the Department of Juvenile Corrections of the Home Office.

The punishment which Pettifer had just administered was the maximum allowed on any one occasion. It was rarely used, even onboard the Great Endeavour which had a fair number of really violent, stop-at-nothing, young tearaways among its detainees; but Brian May, a violent young man aged just seventeen, had been caught with a knife in his hand threatening another cadet whom he had already thrown on the floor and kicked almost unconscious. So not surprisingly, the most severe of punishments was totally appropriate and Kevin Pettifer had had no compunction in giving the lad the hiding of his life.

Kevin had just recently been promoted from his previous rank of Chief Petty Officer to that of Warrant Office, the highest of the non-commissioned ranks, in recognition of his outstanding service on the Great Endeavour: quite an achievement for a young man who had pulled himself in less than a decade, out of a miserable, dead-end, and prospect-less life in a run-down part of Bradford. It can safely be said that Kevin was satisfied with his life aboard ship. As a physical fitness buff himself, he enjoyed being in charge of the physical education of the detainees; but he took equal pride in his disciplinary work: administering corporal punishment with a well applied rattan cane to the naked arses of the cadets and even occasionally to the younger sailors, whenever they deserved it. To be frank Kevin actually enjoyed, as many men do, the act of flagellation. He really wished he didn't feel that way, but the fact of the matter was whenever he took up the cane – which was a fairly frequent occurrence – and applied it to a lad's naked arse, he became sexually aroused; on-board ship, all beatings were always applied to the culprit's naked arse, by the way. In fact the cadet who was being punished was totally naked, having been made to take of his only garment, his shorts, which he had been wearing as he was marched from the showers to the punishment room.

But today, the sense of satisfaction and pride in a job well done was particularly significant for Kevin Pettifer. Brian May was precisely the five hundredth cadet – they were referred to as cadets, but they were, in fact, detainees: prisoners on board the Great Endeavour – to have had the doubtful pleasure of having his arse beaten by Kevin. As our story opens in the year 2031, Kevin, now aged thirty, had been on board the Great Endeavour for just over five years and in that time has administered some hundred separate beatings a year since assuming his post. With that impressive number under his belt, one had to believe that Kevin Pettifer knew a thing or two about laying on the cane.

And it has to be said, that Kevin Pettifer was second to no one when it came to wielding the cane; as many a misbehaved cadet could testify to his sorrow, when he left the punishment room with his arse well and truly roasted and burning with pain. Kevin Pettifer was an absolute master at delivering the maximum pain – the object of the exercise – but without ever breaking the victim's skin. He had a knack of looking at the pair of naked buttocks requiring his attention; of choosing the right cane with which to thrash them; always to maximum effect. It was this dedication to duty which had earned him a promotion to the rank of Chief Petty Officer after only two years and now to the highest non-commissioned rank of Warrant Officer. Strictly speaking he should now pass-on the task of wielding the cane to an officer below him; or even to a leading hand; but Kevin Pettifer was very attached to the administration of corporal punishment and he was not inclined to relinquish a task which, in spite of his own feelings of inner guilt, he knew he enjoyed.

Kevin Pettifer after five years of intense experience with the cane was both totally dedicated to its use and equally convinced of the beneficial effects that a good beating brought to any young miscreant who was interned for correction on board to the Great Endeavour. By now a consummate expert with the cane, he was an absolute master of precision who could place any stroke to land exactly where he chose. An inexperienced observer surveying the damage to Brian May's arse would have said that the young man had been given a twelve cut beating, as to the casual eye, twelve, deeply-cut, well-defined welts were clearly visible; he would however, have been wide of the mark; for what to the untutored eye appeared at first glance to be a single deep welt, was, in fact the result of two separate strokes, the second of which had been overlaid with perfect precision on the first. Now anyone who knows the slightest thing about the finer points of corporal punishment with the cane will be aware of the fact that this precise overlaying of one stroke by another requires not only great skill, but also delivers indescribable pain to the recipient.

So to say after two dozen resounding cuts with the cane across his bare arse that Brian May was in pain was a total understatement of how he felt at that precise moment: he was in absolute, mind-bending agony; little wonder that the young man was in tears, for who under the circumstance would not have been? But Kevin Pettifer was always totally unmoved by the tearful histrionics which often accompanied his lavish administration of what he liked to think of as tender, loving care. Anyone who had the privilege of watching him in action realised that they were they witnessing what was little short of a master-class in the not-so-gentle act of corporal chastisement; like all professionals, Kevin Pettifer enjoyed what he was doing and put his heart and soul into it. He was not basically a sadistic man and never ever beat anyone who did not merit it; but when he exercised his duty, as he regularly did several times each week, he had nevertheless that that slight touch of sadism in his make-up, which elevated his performances with the cane to a level of perfection which few could equal. In a word, Kevin Pettifer was exceptionally accomplished in the art of beating arse, which he had, over the past five years, succeeded in elevating to an art form in its own right. In a word, he was the ideal man for the job he held and was personally completely satisfied with his naval life.

Whilst one's first instinct is to feel sorry for Brian May and sympathise with him in his undoubted misery, such sentiments would be totally misplaced. Brian May, now approaching eighteen, was a hardened, serial offender, who had no thought for anyone but himself. He had, since the age of thirteen, been sentenced by a series of magistrates to short periods at various reform schools up and down the country, usually accompanied by a severe schedule of repeated corporal punishment; but to no avail; for as soon as he was released he took up again where he had left off and his misdemeanours restarted with ever increasing violence. The final straw, which had broken the proverbial camel's back, was when he was brought before the magistrate of the day after having snatched a handbag from an old lady whom he had then knocked down and broken her arm in his rush to escape. That crime had led to a two year sentence aboard the Great Endeavour where such miscreants as he were subjected to a rigorous programme aimed at turning them into useful citizens to be released at the end of their sentence, hopefully reformed, into society – or so went the theory. It goes practically without saying that aboard the Great Endeavour, rigorous corporal punishment figured regularly in the agenda of the said reform programme; and as to Brian May, disobedience and thuggery were inseparable, he was a regular visitor to the punishment room where Kevin Pettifer had no compunction at all in subjecting the lad's arse to the most severe and excruciatingly painful punishment.

In view of the of May's violent nature, Kevin had had his long-term assistant, Stephen Shaw in attendance together with two of his strongest, able seamen; they had accompanied May to take the obligatory shower before he was punished and had then marched him, stark naked, directly to the punishment room where they had strapped him immobile, firmly in place on the beating horse ready for Kevin to work his magic with the cane on the lad's arse. The two attendant sailors were both splendid, muscular specimens of young manhood and dressed as they were for the occasion – tight, crotch-hugging trousers and sleeveless T shirts which were moulded to their pectoral muscles and exposed their bulging biceps, any observer would have realised that these two young studs – for that is what they were – were in that high state of sexual arousal that observing a beating so very often incites; in a word, after having watched their superior officer shred May's arse, they were both ready for sex. And sexual arousal was not limited to them. After five years of regular experience with the cane, whenever Kevin Pettifer stood over a pair of naked buttocks on which he was about to lavish the care for which had achieved fame – or possibly more accurately put – notoriety, that faithful indicator of erotic arousal between his legs never failed to rise to the occasion. and the same thing was true to Stephen Shaw his assistant.

Buggery, as a pastime, was officially banned in the Royal Navy, but making rules was one thing and enforcing them quite another. Kevin Pettifer, as a discrete but active gay himself, was well aware that as soon as he withdrew from the present scene, May's arse would find itself declared open season and would be given at least two very thorough shaftings by the two sailors before he was released from the horse and allowed to retrieve his berth to nurse his very sore backside. Kevin knew as sure as night follows day that that would happen. As a gay man himself and regular practitioner of the gentle art of anal sex, he was all too well aware that in the all male environment in which so many young men, whether cadets, detainees or even the navy crew, quite irrespective of rank, found themselves, male-male sexual intercourse was inevitable.

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.