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Two kinds of men join His Majesty's Navy: those who come to sea for adventure and those who join just to be with men. I am definitely in the latter category. I joined the Navy voluntarily rather than being conscripted, as so many men are these days. Wars in the Americas and with France and Spain have forced many into military service, but I joined. I joined because I wanted to be with men. I have a weakness, no, a lust to be with
members of my own sex. I joined the Navy at eighteen and have worked hard for nearly twenty years, and have risen to be the first mate on HMS Regent, a frigate in the
Royal Navy. I have served on this ship for eight years, under Captain William Wilson for all but the past month. Captain Wilson was injured on our last voyage from Liverpool to Freeport. When we arrived in the Bahamas, he was replaced by Captain John Aures. Captain Wilson was a good man who loved the sea and his country. His ship was a pleasure to serve on. Little discipline was needed with him as captain. He conveyed a sense of discipline emphasizing safety and military purpose was we patrolled English held waters in the Atlantic and Caribbean seas. He always treated his crew well, and only became cross if a sailor did something that endangered the ship or another man. As first mate I was in charge of discipline. Under Captain Wilson I almost never was required to do anything more severe than put a man in the brig overnight. Captain Aures is very different. He is a stern man. He comes
from an aristocratic family, so he tends to look upon his underlings as if
we were farm animals to be beaten and prodded into working. Long voyages are difficult on most men. Being away from family and in danger from the sea, pirates and enemy vessels takes its toll. Since many
of the younger men were impressed, that is, drafted into service, they do not take kindly to the rigors of seafaring. They would rather be at home with their wives or girlfriends. Sexual tension becomes unbearable. On a
ship there is little opportunity for privacy to tend to one's needs. Most of the men masturbate secretly. A few engage in sexual relations between themselves. While this practice is forbidden by naval law, it is practiced in almost every ship in the fleet. As first mate I have let it be known that I would not enforce the law as long as sex between seamen was discrete. Many nights in the hold I would hear the rapid panting of men relieving themselves together or alone. Sometimes I would "catch" a new man and explain to him the law of the sea. I would allow him to atone for his misconduct by servicing me or coming to my cabin, a privilege afforded to officers and the first mate. I've had sex with almost all the enlisted men on the ship. One day when it was unbearably hot, the Captain went below to check on the stores of food and water. I was attending to my duties when I heard him roar from below decks. "Mr. Hutchinson! Mr. Hutchinson, come here and bring some men with you." I could not imagine what was wrong. I grabbed two sturdy mates and we ran below. In the hold the Captain was standing above to naked seamen pinned under his boot. They were Charles Busher and Robert Whiting, two newly conscripted sailors. They were naked. Whiting lay on top of the smaller man, obviously engaging in anal intercourse. I had had my eye on both of these stalwart young men from the time they first came on board. Busher was short, but powerfully built. His body was nearly hairless and his face clean shaven. Whiting was taller and even more powerfully built. He was blond, about six foot and easily weighed fifteen stones. Whiting wore a shortly cropped beard which accepted the deep bronze of his skin. I had caught Whiting masturbating one evening in
the cargo hold and offered to service him. He was reluctant at first, but
allowed me to suck on him more than a few times. Busher was most attractive, but I never had the opportunity to approach him. The captain stood with his heavy boot in the center of Rob's back. "Buggery is against God's laws and naval regulations. I will not tolerate it on my ship." The captain shouted. "Mr. Hutchinson, take them on deck and give them ten lashes each. I will teach you how we handle buggers on my ship." As first mate discipline was my duty, though under Captain Wilson I only had applied the lash to one man in my entire time under his command. Bruce Meggit was a surly man who struck one of the ship's officers. Captain Wilson ordered me to give him ten lashes. I was pleased to do so,
since the same man had beaten me when we were ashore. He knew of my taste in men and approached me when we were on shore leave. "Matey, how would you like to service me?" He asked in an alley. I was just horney enough to take him up on the offer and followed him into an abandoned building. He beat me senseless. I couldn't do anything about it, since there were no witnesses. I couldn't very well tell the captain he had beaten me up because I wanted to suck his cock. When Meggit struck the officer and the Captain ordered his punishment, I was more than willing to oblige. The Captain ordered the ship's company to the deck. They made two lines on each side of the deck. Two burly men led Meggit up from the brig to the deck and stripped him to the waist. They tied his hands to a rope and hoisted him up until he stood on his toes. I took the cat-o-nine-tails and soaked it in sea water. The first officer read the charges: "Seaman Meggit, you have been found guilty of a court marshal of striking an officer of His Majesty's Navy. You have sentenced to receive ten lashes. Punishment shall commence." I had never whipped anyone or anything before. I lifted the cat from the brine and drew it back, then let loose on Meggit's back. It made a satisfying crack as the first officer counted, "One." Meggit leaded into the force of whip, but made no sound. The next blow I planted harder. He moaned slightly. "Two," came the crisp count. I dipped the whip back into the brine and quickly delivered a hard and heavy blow. "Arrragh," he
yelled and his fingers curled involuntarily. He danced on his toes. "Three." I was beginning to enjoy whipping him. I don't know whether it was that I hated him so much that I took pleasure to hurting him or whether it was the pain itself that made me enjoy what I was doing. The next seven blows were delivered as hard as I could swing the whip, pausing only long enough to regain my balance and put my weight into every blow. When the last count was given the rope suspending Meggit was undone and he collapsed on the deck. I took the bucket of brine and threw it on him. The ship's company was dismissed and Meggit was carried below deck to the brig. He never bothered me again. While I thoroughly enjoyed punishing Meggit, I felt very differently about
taking the lash to Whiting and Busher. I knew better than to try to talk the captain out of the punishment. He did not even call together a court marshal board. "Take these two buggers on deck immediately and whip them." The two men who had followed me below when we heard the Captain's call each took one of the men. Both were stark naked and sweating from a very athletic session with each other. The other men were waiting for them
to put on their pants. "Take them on deck now," the Captain barked, "unless you want to join them." The Captain led the way. He ordered that the two men be bound together, facing one another. "Summon the ship's company to witness punishment." The crew assembled on deck. Everyone was silent as the Captain spoke. "These two have been caught in the shameful act of committing buggery. They have violated God's laws and maritime law. They shall be punished with ten lashes each. The first mate will commence punishment." Two men tied their hands together and then to rope. It was hoisted so that Busher's feet were off the ground and Whiting's toes were just touching. The sun and heat made every muscle on each man stand out. I stood for a moment too long before doing anything. "Mr. Hutchinson, lay on the first lash, and let each one be laid on well." I tell you, I did not want to do this. I had a strong attraction to each of these men, and found them even more attractive bound together. The captain had interrupted their sexual union before they were satiated, so their erect penises were ground together by their hanging bodies; the heads pointed at me, though no one else could see them. I took the cat-o-nine-tails from a bucket of sea water and delivered the first lash to Whiting's back, and then, backhanded I delivered a stroke to Busher. My reluctance in swing was chastized by the Captain. "Mister, I said lay them on well." I took another swing at Whiting, and planted on solid hit across is shoulder blades. He involuntarily stepped forward just as I returned the stroke across Busher's lower back. Their two sweaty bodies ground together. I dipped the whip in brine and took another swing at Whiting. "Ahhh," he yelled and jerked from side to side. I took another swing at Busher. "Stop," the Captain yelled. "Get another whip. You are not hitting him hard enough backhanded." Apparently my strategy of whipping the smaller, more attractive man backhanded had been noticed by the captain. No one made a move. "You there," the Captain pointed to a man near the front. "Take the other whip and lay into the other man." The man he pointed to was a large man, Seaman Harold Jones. He took off his shirt, took the other whip and dipped it the brine, then took his place opposite me. "Now, as I count the strokes, you will strike at the same time. "One." I could not believe what I had heard. I had already laid in a good three lashes on Whiting's muscular back. The Captain was adding three strokes to his punishment. Both whips struck at the same time and curled around the sides of each man. The force of the whips pressed the men together, their crotches ground against one another. "Two." Both men moaned in discomfort. "Three." Whiting looked at me. I looked deeply into his eyes and delivered the next lash. I hesitate to say so, but I was becoming aroused by the scene. I don't know if it was the sight of two magnificent specimens of masculine beauty together, the hot sweat defining
their muscles, their erect penises or my own part in their punishment that I found most arousing, but there was an intense pressure in my groin that I could not ignore. "Four." Both men buckled as the lashes tore across their backs. Busher bit into the neck of Whiting, stifling a scream. Whiting moaned as I hit him again. We dipped our whips into the brine before taking another lash. I noticed the angry heads of both men's penises were
dripping what I thought was sweat. I was wrong; it wasn't sweat, but semen. At the next lash Busher's penis shot out a generous wad of semen.
It hit the deck near my feet. "Five." My own penis ached now for relief. I was watching as the lash hit both men. "Six, seven." I could not take my eyes off the men before me. I wanted to reach out and hold each of them in my arms, but I also wanted to hit them again and hear them scream. Whiting obliged me by screaming violently as he, too, shot like a canon from his penis. I wanted it to splatter across my face, or better yet, on my tonsils. "Eight." My own sexual energy was growing. I hit Whiting very hard the next time and he stepped forward, then swung back. The Captain saw semen dripping from both men's penises. "They are enjoying it! Hit them harder. Five more lashes for each." I swung again. "Nine. Ten." I paused after then tenth lash, but the Captain
ordered, "I said five more for each." I was completely driven by this time. The sight of two muscled beauties suffering made juices flow from my engorged member. I hoped that no one could see the effect this whipping was having on me. Most of the men on deck could not bear to watch the final lashes. Seamen Jones applying the lash of Busher seemed to back off so that the Captain could not see him behind me. Busher turned his face toward me. I could see the muscles in his arms and
back tighten as each of the remaining lashes hit him. His face winced each time the Captain cried a number and both of us delivered a blow. When it was done, the Captain ordered us to throw buckets of sea water on each man's backs. They both nearly passed out from the shock and pain. "You there, don't let them down. Leave them up until I say so. I want them to be an example that I will not tolerate buggery on my vessel. The crew is dismissed." The Captain made us leave Whiting and Busher hang on deck for more than an hour bleeding and sweating in the sun. I put away the whips and headed for my cabin, ostensibly to clean off the sweat and blood and put on a shirt. Instead I went to my cabin and masturbated wildly until I had
shot three times. It did not take long. The image of two powerfully built seamen being flogged whetted my appetite for a man even more. I imagine myself bound naked with a man as we are flogged and wonder what it would be like. I long to feel the lash on my own back and I feel the powerful muscles on another man. The captain may not want buggers on board, but if he wants me to flog another man, I'll be more than happy to oblige.