Gay Erotic Stories

In 1785, in Liverpool, England, Matthew Collins was 19-years old. Both of his parents dead, and seeking adventure, Matthew “took the King’s shilling” and enlisted in the Navy. Soon, the ship was on the high seas, bound for the East Indies. Matthew, having grown up on the streets of Liverpool, was used to having his own way. One day, one of the officers ordered him to swab the deck and to “be quick about it.” “I’ll be as quick as I please,” retorted Matthew. The next thing Matthew knew, he was standing before the Captain. Looking extremely grave, the Captain said, “The penalty for insubordination is six dozen lashes. Does the prisoner have anything to say for himself?” By this time, Matthew had a chance to think about his actions, and he knew he was in deep trouble. Struggling to maintain his composure, he replied, “Sir, I am truly sorry for what I said.” The unusual response startled the Captain. Impressed by Matthew’s sincerity, he sensed that the trembling youth’s remorse was genuine. The Captain knew that a brutal flogging was unnecessary to prevent a recurrence of the offense, but he was concerned that a failure to punish Matthew would undermine his authority over the other men. Taking a deep breath, he pronounced sentence: “I shall be as lenient as I may be. Two dozen lashes well laid on your bare back. See that you profit from the lesson.” A dazed and bewildered Matthew was led to the brig, to be confined until 10:00 the next morning, at which time the sentence would be carried out. The next morning, the sun was shining brilliantly. With the entire ship’s company assembled, Matthew was brought on deck. The command, “Ship’s company, off hats,” was given, the Articles of War were read, and the sentence, “Two dozen lashes,” pronounced. Matthew was ordered to strip to the waist. He removed his shirt and threw it on the deck. He was then bound to the iron grating by his wrists and ankles. The ship’s company could not help but admire and pity the obviously frightened young man. His chest and back were well tanned and smooth. His trousers hung limply from his lean frame, with his waistband about four inches below his navel. Turning to the bosun, the captain cried out, “Mr. Green, do your duty.” Reaching into a red bag, Mr. Green withdrew the cat-o-nine tails. At the count of “One” he brought it down with full vigor across Matthew’s bare back. A bright red welt instantly appeared. The force of the blow propelled Matthew against the grating, causing him to audibly exhale. “Two” and the whip came down again. Feeling as if each lash was tearing him in pieces, and writhing in agony, Matthew was determined to take the flogging without crying out. After twelve lashes, however, he began to scream. After eighteen, Matthew’s will to resist was broken. “Oh my God, no more, please God, no more.” But, of course, the flogging continued. After what seemed an eternity, the whip at last stopped falling. Matthew, his shoulders and back covered with long, bleeding welts, was barely conscious as he hung from the grating. A sailor, detailed to the duty, approached, carrying a bucket of sea water, which he threw against Matthew’s lacerated back, causing Matthew to shriek out curses. The dousing in salt water was not intended as additional punishment; it represented a crude attempt to prevent infection. Cut down from the grating, Matthew was returned to the brig to recover. As his wounds healed, though, he grimly realized that he felt a new emotion. The emotion was pride, a knowledge that he had been tested, and that he had survived. The scars on his back were proof that he was a survivor. He had become a man.