A young offender has reached the stage where he faces a 2 year prison sentence, as an alternative he's been offered 3 months at a detention camp. He's told it will involve hard work plus a fitness programme, and has to agree to the use of CP as punishment (this last bit concerns him, but he remembers his Dad talking about being slapped on the legs by his Father, and saying it was nothing to worry about, so he doesn't).
Step forward now to ten 18 - 25 year olds arriving at camp. They are taken off the bus into a reception area, against the wall are lockers and in front of them is a pile of white shorts.
They are then ordered to take their shoes and socks off, find an appropriately sized pair of shorts and get into the gym, where they are made to line up against the wall, In front of them is a vaulting horse, with a cane alongside it plus a thick leather belt spread over the horse.
The guard tell them that they are going to do an hours exercise as an introduction to the camp, and that they will be wearing the shorts they have selected.
The first boy is told to leave his shorts on the floor by the wall, and step forward, which he does. Next he is ordered to strip to the waist, this he does more reluctantly but eventually ends stood there in just his trousers. "Right, next get your jeans off" Slowly he obeys, but realising what is going to happen, he turns to the guard, "That's all mate, nothing else comes off, and where are the t-shirt, socks and trainers I always wear in the gym"
"Oh, don't worry about those, you'll always have you're feet bare in here son, and as we don't want any of you to be shy, we have you all stripped completely to the waist as well. Anyway, see that strap, that goes across your totally bare back if I say so, so having you all ready saves time. Right, no more debate, get your boxers off." Nothing happens, "OK, if in 10 seconds you're not stood in front of me bollock naked, you'll be the first to learn what the a dozen of the cane feels like, and you won't have your boxers on then I promise you "
"1,2,3,4,5,............"
Everyone watched mesmerised, fascinated by the standoff, but relieved it wasn't them who had been first in line.
"6.7,8,9,10"
"Tell me your name, son" The lad mutters "Steve Haines, what's yours". "Worry about your self lad, not me"" Right Haines, final chance, get your boxers off"
"_f_u_c_k_ off, you can't make me, and you can't cane me, it's just a threat" Suddenly he advances towards the guard at the front, fists flying, everything happens in a blur. Rapidly the lad is on the floor, with three guards on top of him.
The most senior stands up first, then the other two holding the prisoner securely . "We're going to have to show you what happens to prats who refuse orders, aren't we, and also what happens if you hit a guard"
"Get him stripped, and put him up on the wall bars"
Within seconds the boxers come off and the lad, naked, but still struggling is spreadeagled against the wall bars, arms stretched up and tied. The senior guard picks up the belt, walks over to the bound prisoner and very gently caresses his bare back, letting it slip slowly towards his arse. Haines shivers and tries, unsuccessfully, to pull his body away. "Feels gentle doesn't it Steve, nice on your soft skin"
"Don't be fooled, you won't believe the marks it will make on your back and how much pain you are going to be in, very, very soon"
He walks back to the front, "Now is anyone else going to be stupid, let's see" Turning to the lad next in line, he shouts out "Out here, move" Within seconds the boy is stood in front of him "Get stripped, that means everything" is the simple commend, which is obeyed instantly. "Now that's better, put your shorts on, then hands on your head, back in line. Rapidly this procedure is repeated, and soon 9 boys line up, all wearing just white shorts, with feet and backs bare showing their white skinny bodies, all frightened as to what happens next.
"On the floor, start doing press-ups, when I blow the whistle get up, do exactly as I tell you"
"GO"
10 mins later, sweat is pouring down their backs, faces red from the unaccustomed effort, shorts starting to stick to their bodies. "Right all line up, over here, we'll give you a break for a few mins and something to watch"
Everyone is directed to the middle of the gym, facing Haines still stretched out, awaiting his fate, body now covered in sweat in anticipation at what's to come.
"Right lad, the punishment for hitting a guard is 25 strokes on your back and for disobeying a direct order is a dozen of the cane"
"We'll keep things simple for the moment - 30 strokes"
One of the other guards picks up the belt and positions himself ready, he picks up the disguarded boxers, roughly wiping the sweat now pouring down Haines's back. "Prisoner ready for punishment" he says, everything is silent "Proceed, 30 strokes, lay on hard"
The belt arches, high in the air, and lands with a thud on his back. "One" Haines grunts, pain shoots across his shoulders, but it's not nearly as bad as he thought it would be, he can handle this. The belt arches back again, this time landing further down. "Two" Haines grunts again, this time more of a shout. Rapidly the guard pulls the belt back, the third stroke falling neatly across the lines left by the first two. "Three" This time it really hurts, he twists slightly arching his body as much as his tied arms allow, just as the next stroke falls "Four", again he twists, again it does little to help "Five"
Now he screams out, suddenly becoming aware that the effect is cumulative, and is getting worse each time The pain shoots through his whole body and he knows without seeing, that already his shoulders and upper back are intersected by angry wealds, but what he doesn't know is this is merely a taste of punishment to come.
"Six", "Seven" , both of them lower down, softening up a new area of his back. "Eight" He screams out "Please stop, please...." But the guard takes no notice, the only impact being on his mates, watching as his back becomes covered in angry red lines.
The skill in flogging a prisoner lies in subtle changes of position and intensity, and our man is an expert. Unnoticed by anyone he moves slightly, and brings the belt down diagonally across the existing wealds "Nine"
"Ten". Haines screams out in agony, as the belt land full intensity on his shoulders. "Eleven" for the first time, a trickle of blood appears where the effect of two strokes intersect "Twelve"
The senior guard suddenly stops the punishment, turning to the next boy in line he asks his name "Pete Jones"
"I only care about your surname lad, not what your Mummy calls you and you forgot something, something very important" The lad looks blank, then works it out "Jones, sir". "Right Jones, give him a drink, and get the sweat of his back, use his boxers" Rapidly the order is obeyed.
"Haines you're moving around too much, and your making too much noise, if you don't start acting like a man, rather than a spoilt child, I'll make it much worse for you" To the guard "Re-tie his arms, stretch him right up, then switch over and lay on harder, he's getting off too lightly"
Suddenly Steve feels his body pushed forward as his arms are stretched taunt and wrists re-tied, he feels the rope bite and grunts, but is beyond caring, the only thing he can focus on is the pain from his back every time he moves.
The new guard takes his position, those that are watching closely work out what's happening, but most don't realise that he's left handed and standing on the other side of the prisoner. All is ready for the next phase of the torture. "Ready, boss" The boss nods, ""Proceed"
"Thirteen", "Fourteen" Steve screams, discovering a new intensity of pain, but not knowing why, not aware that the change in side means every stoke cuts across the early ones. He just about hears the command "lay on harder, and repeat that stroke, I want him punished properly like a man, not like a boy" - he may not have heard the instruction, but he soon discovers the result. The guard steps back and brings the belt full force down on his back, "Fourteen" again he steps back, again the belt lands, this time off centre, wrapping around hard into his side "Fifteen" His mind tells him, halfway, only 15 to go, he braces himself just as the stroke lands. "Sixteen", an exact repeat of the last one, that takes real skill and Steve's back shows the impact, now covered in ugly red and purple lines; massive blood blisters at the intersections, one or two split open and bleeding, blood trickling slowly down his sweat soaked back, with just a tiny splattering on his white arse.
The next few minutes pass in a blur, all Steve remembers is the constant thud of the strap on his back, each stroke sending pain shooting across his whole body, pain he had never imagined possible. Semi conscious, he hears "Twenty-Two" called out, his body slumps, hanging on his taut arms, ropes cutting into his sore wrists.
In between strokes there is always total silence, everyone anticipating the thud of leather on skin, suddenly one lad blurts out "You bastard, you'll kill him" Everything stops, "Get out here, Jones, if you've got something to say" Slowly he steps forward, "He had as much as he can take, sir, he's in agony, you can't put him through any more"
"That's what punishments about lad, get back in line" Stupidly Jones continues "I'm telling you he can't take anyone, can't you see, look at his back"
Everyone watches, knowing what's going to happen "Right lad, we're going to have to teach you to obey orders, not discuss them. I'm sure a gentle taste of the strap will do that."
"Get him against the wall". The two guards advance toward him, but trapped he realises he has no choice, and moves across..
"Tie him up ready, next to Haines". "Do you want us to strip his shorts off, boss" asks one of the guards"
"No, I think, we keep those on for the moment, I'm sure there's nothing that interesting underneath to see anyway" The guard smirks, pulls Jones's arms hard up and ties them, the two prisoners next to one another, Jones's white back providing a vivid contrast to Haines's
The bossman turns to Jones "You can wait lad, I'll decide your punishment later, I'm not going to waste any more time, proceed with Haines's punishment. Get his arms back up first"
All those watching see is hands on his side lifting him back onto his feet, all they hear, is him scream out as he's lifted, unaware that the guard has deliberately used the weald marks on his side to pull him up. No one else know, but experience of numerous floggings tells the guard that the area under a lads arms is one of the most sensitive on his upper body, and having aimed the belt so as to wrap round with maximum impact in this area, he has gained useful information, information he will use to make the last few stokes the most painful.
Skilfully he repositions himself just marginally to the right of his original position, he pulls the belt back and slams it full force into Steve's back. Slightly out from where he intended, but still highly effective, it lands mid way across the prisoners back, but that's not the important bit, unnoticed by all but the guard and Steve the tails wrap round sadistically into his side, the pain is unimaginable, "Twenty-Three" He pulls the belt back, this time aiming perfectly. "Twenty-Four"
"Twenty-Five"
He slumps again. "Right Haines, you've been warned twice, you're slumping down"
"We'll see if more strokes make you listen"
"Tie his feet as well, then proceed with punishment, 40 lashes in total" Several of the watching lads look horrified, realising at last that their 3 months sentence is not going to be a holiday, and that probably they will also find themselves tied up against the bars being flogged, soon, very soon "If anyone has anything to say, say it now" No one has !
Again Steve is pulled upright, again he feels his body pushed hard against the bars, again the ropes holding his arms are re-tied. This time he feels ropes bite his ankles, but the only thing on his mind is the punishment to come, He sobs quietly, but no one notices.
In reality it's only a few minutes, five at the most, but it seems an eternity to Steve, an eternity where he has to endure pain beyond belief, where every movement almost makes him black out. Somehow he stays upright, not knowing how he does it, but knowing the consequences of slumping again. "Thirty- Seven", "Thirty-Eight" nearly there, only two more to go. The belt crashes into his body, he grunts, screaming hurts too much "Thirty-Nine"
"Forty"
The punishment is complete.
He feels the water bottle on his lips, he drinks, water cascades over his head, down his back, it helps. "Wipe his back, get him cleaned up" He screams as the guard touches the wealds, his mind a strange mixture of the agony of the punishment and the ecstasy of knowing it's over.
"Untie his feet, but leave him on the bars. I want everyone to see his back. All of you take a good look"
They all walk past, horrified by the mass of purple lines and angry wealds that was crisscross their mates back.
"Right, spread out, let's get on with the workout. 50 press-up's"
8 bodies start frantically pushing themselves up, wimpy white arms straining to push their bodies up for fear of the consequences of not doing so. The whistle goes, "Rights, lads squat thrusts, feet pushed back then right forward, come on, I want to see you work !" The whistle goes again "Star jumps"
Sweat drops onto the floor, legs, chests and backs running with sweat, hair plastered to their heads.
"Right, all stop. Over here, get into pairs with the lad next to you. When the whistle goes, one of you does squat thrusts while the other runs to the end of the gym and back 10 times, final time he climbs the rope ladder, back down, runs back, first lad stops, holds his feet while he does 40 sit-up's. Then you swap round, he does squats, while you do the running. 5 sets, one of the guards will count for you. Everyone understand ?" They all nod. The whistle blows.
The gym descends into whirl of exercising lads, and a newcomer looking in would wonder what exactly was happening, seeing 4 lads running full speed from one end of the gym to another, while 4 were doing squats (equally frantically) on the floor. The minimal kit and their sweaty soaked bodies would seem strange, but not as strange as the two lads tied to the wall bars, one silently awaiting his punishment and the other, naked, slumped against the wall, groaning quietly as even the slightest movement shoots pain across his raw back.
The whistle goes, the shuttle runs are over, 8 guys stand there, bent double, gasping for breath, happy that the workout is over, but not for long..
"You 2, over here. Why did you finish last, why are you so slow ?"
"Don't know sir, I'm knackered sir, maybe the others are fitter" Everyone laughs. The boss man has an answer ready. "I'll tell you what, tomorrow morning, you were all going to go for a nice gentle run, but now, we'll have you all back in here doing shuttle runs for an hour before the run, then tomorrow evening we'll do the same, and the next day, and the next day, until you get fitter"
"What do you think of that ?" Not learning from Jones's experience one of the other adds his contribution "That's not fair, we finished first today" He turns to him "OK, if you are going to argue, we'll do it now. First you and your buddy out here"
They come to the front, "You're too fast and fit to do the shuttle runs, so you can watch" They look surprised. "Get over to the wall bars, climb up, turn and face outwards, then kick your feet out, I want you hanging by your arms only, feet not touching. Understand"
"Yes, sir" they mumble, moving slowly towards the end of the gym and climbing up "Remember your nice little feet are totally bare, and if I see as much as one toe touching a bar, you'll regret it"
He blows the whistle "Right back to work" The others boys start again, pain on their faces, shorts now transparent with sweat, sticking to the contours of their bodies, revealing tiny limp _c_o_c_k_s.
After a couple of mins he blows the whistle, turns to one of the lads hanging "Your feet are touching lad, both of you down" They drop, stretching their arms, grimacing with pain.
Knowing what's to come the other guards pull out the vaulting horse. "Over here" he commands"
"You work as a pair, so you get punished as a pair" Turning to the taller lad, "You first, here" He points to the floor in front of the horse, the boy walks over head down. "Right, get that filthy pair of shorts off" Slowly he pulls them down, "Over the horse, arms stretched out, backside up" Turning to the lad to be caned he says "10, will do I think, count the strokes out loud"
Unsurprisingly they've done this before, without waiting, the guard who administered Steve's punishment, walks over and pulls his arms further forward over the horse, positioning his backside ready. The cane lands for the first time, total silence, he shouts "Stand up, turn to face me" Slowly he's obeyed "I told you to count the strokes" The boy looks lost "Are you a moron, count the strokes out loud as you receive them"
"Understand" The boy nods "I didn't hear you"
"Yes, sir"
"Right, get back in position"
He looks across at his boss, who smiles "Just to remind you, it's 20 now, I assume you can count up to 20" He pulls the boy forward. The cane lands, he mumbles "One"
"That's not loud enough" He brings the cane down again. "Two"
"That's better, but now you've worked it out, we'll start properly with the first stroke. He lands the cane, harder this time, the lads shouts out "One" Rhythmically the cane lands, each stripe moving down slightly down the boys arse and thighs. "Ten"
"Eleven"
"Twelve" the lad mumbles, tears flooding his eyes. "I didn't hear that, so I'm going to repeat the stroke, then you say Twelve" The lad is now crying openly, but just manages to shout out "Twelve"
"Thirteen"............"Nineteen"
"Twenty" His backside is covered in marks, some neatly crossing the others "Stand up, hands on your heads"
"Don't touch your backside"
He calls the next lad over, the procedure is repeated, but only 10 this time. Not that "only 10" is what the victim feels about it.
"Right, we'll call it a day, Get Jones down. Over here" He's untied
"I've decided to award you 10 strokes, but I'm going to postpone it for a couple of days, if you behave I might even let you off"
"Get Haines down, and into the dorms" The rest of you into the changing rooms. Shorts off, into the showers, they're cold by the way !"
"No talking"
Ten mins later everyone is in the dorms, they've all been made to take a long cold shower, dry themselves quickly and issued with clean shorts. They are allocated a bed. Steve is spread on his, face down, still fully stripped. All that's on the bed is an old sheet. The dorms are freezing cold.
The boss comes in. "Everyone in bed, shorts off first, you all sleep naked, no exceptions. "No talking, undress, into bed, go to sleep. And if any of you are thinking of wanking, I will check the sheets in the morning, any mess and you'll have a back just like Haines. They obey, the two boys who've been caned feel sore, the others want to look at the results, but not one of them dares put a foot out of line.
Night passes, they are all knackered , and fall into a deep sleep.
0530. A whistle goes, twice "Get up, come on move" Full of sleep they respond slowly. "Make the beds, just pull the sheet over neatly, then stand by the bed" One of the guys goes to put his shorts on. "What are you doing.....get the bed made, then stand by it, naked, hands on your heads"
Steve stands up, manages to make the bed, and puts his hands on his head. "Haines, let's all see your back, turn around" He does so, giving a clear view of his back, now, 12 hours later, a solid mass of purple bruises, One of the others shudders. "Does it hurt" asks the guard "Yes, sir"
"I thought it might, lad" he grins.
"Get to the gym, barea**ed, run"
It's below freezing outside, and they shiver violently as the cold hits their bare bodies, gravel hurting their bare feet.
Once in the gym they are made to line up. "Right, to being with we'll outline what's going to happen each day. Every day will be the same, you'll start with a gym session and a run, then you work during the day, another gym session ends the day. You'll be given two pairs of white shorts, two pairs of navy shorts, a navy vest, and a pair of trainers. You start every day with clean kit, both gym and work, so everything has to be changed each day, you, and you alone, are responsible for washing your kit. You are also responsible for keeping yourself and your bed clean, that means 3 showers a day, and as you will have discovered we like cold showers here. Each day you will be inspected, and if you fail to meet the required standards you'll spend extra time in the gym Understand"
"Yes, sir" rings out.
"Each morning you'll be woken up, you make the bed, run stripped to the gym, pull on your shorts, shuttle runs, then trainers on, 5 mile run, strip, cold shower. Put on your work clothes, that's navy shorts, vest and trainers, eat breakfast, then you work all day. Every evening after your work, you shower, back in the gym, wearing just white shorts, for a 2 hour workout, then end the day with another shower, just navy shorts on for your meal. At the end of the day any kit worn has to be washed, and everything put neatly in the changing room for the next day. When you bring the washed kit to the changing rooms, you leave your shorts here, line up n*ked ready to run back to the dorm for bed."
"Any punishments awarded during the day, will be given at the start of the next mornings gym session, so overnight some of you will have something to look forward to. Right, changing rooms, shorts on, bare feet in the gym remember"
In the changing room are sets of shorts, vests, also a pile of old trainers, all different sizes, all nearly worn out. Quickly one of the guards looks at them, and decides their size. Jones takes his pile, saying "These trainers are the wrong size sir, they'll hurt my feet" The guard holds out his hand and takes them back "They won't now, will they son, because you're going to be in bare feet all this week"
"I can't run in bare feet, sir"
"Yes, you can lad, one more word, and the shorts come back as well" Jones looks down dejected and moves away.
One of the lads, put up his hand. "Yes, son, I don't know your name do I"
"Pritchard, sir, I hope you don't mind me asking, but it's very cold outside, can we not wear the vest for the run" He laughs. "No son, and you'll be working without a vest or trainers on as well most of the time, so you'll soon get used to it. Haines had a nice warm back last night, didn't you son, so if that's what you want. Anyway, some detention centres make lads run in bare feet as well, so next week we'll probably get you to do that, the less kit the better as far as I'm concerned, we'll soon get you toughened up"
"Gym"
20 mins later in the gym, 10 guys stand straining for breath. Steve stretches his arms out, trying not to show the pain from his back, trying not to let them win.
"Get your shoes, line up outside. Nothing on your feet Jones"
They line up, it's still freezing cold, but the sun is breaking through, previewing a hot day. "Right, tomorrow, one of us will come with you to show you the course, but today you can just do 20 circuits of the field, that's the same distance. Shift"
Between the gym and the field is a steep muddy slope. Most of them have never run 5 miles in their lives, but they know that whatever happens they have to now. Each lap involves scrambling up the slope, once round the field, down a gentle slope and back outside the gym, so the 5 miles run involves getting up the slope 20 times. Even with trainers on this is difficult, especially once you're tired. By the third lap a couple of lads slip, shorts and legs covered in mud. Pete is in real trouble as his bare feet don't provide any grip. Soon he is falling over ever lap, totally plastered from head to foot. The boss moves forward, "Jones you're not trying, if I see anyone not running, I'll have you caned" They speed up marginally, really just a slow jog at the most. After 55 mins they are all back, all muddy on their lower bodies, some on their backs and chests as well, all covered in sweat in spite of the cold, shivering as they are made to line up and wait for the others. Jones finishes last.
"Right son, you don't learn do you, yesterday I let you off your flogging, today you kick up a fuss about the shoes you're given, then you decide to set a new course record for the slowest time ever, now you're getting mud all over the floor. Do you have anything to say ?"
"Please sir, you made me run barefoot, my feet are covered in cuts, and really hurt, I'm slipping in the mud without trainers, it's not fair, you're picking on me......."
"Shut up you _f_u_c_k_ing moron, I'm fed up with the sound of your voice. You'll take 30 strokes of the cane tomorrow morning. One more word out of you and it gets doubled. Showers"
After showers and their first food, they reappear in work clothes, navy shorts, vest and trainers, all apart from Jones, whose feet are still bare showing the results of his run.
They are led to a long, narrow gravel area, about 200 yds long, containing a huge pile of sand at one end, plus shovels and numerous Hessian sacks. It's now staring to get warm, and will be over 100 in a few hours, just the same as every other day, very warm in the day, very cold at night, ideal for location a detention centre like this.
"Right, it's so simple even you lot will be able to understand it. You fill the sacks, carry them on your backs to the other end, tip them out, run back. When all the sand is at the other end you carry it back. None of you will remember these sacks, but we've got them specially for you. They are really strong, but very rough, so when they were carried on a guys back they wore a leather protector to stop cutting their backs. Unfortunately you're not going to have any protection" He turned, grinning to one of the lads who had been caned, "What do you think of that"
"As soon as we carry them, sir, our backs will get cut, even with vests on" he replied, looking terrified. "Good, well worked out, and that's the point, add in that your backs will soon be soaked in sweat, and that after 2 hours you have to take off either your vest or your trainers, and you'll see how nice a task it will be. Makes it really fun doesn't it"
"Oh, I forgot about you Jones, don't want to leave you out - lift you arms up" The guard walked over, and pulled his vest up and off. "That's better, you're very white, but you'll soon get a tan now, and your back will be nice and raw by the morning, just in case I decide to flog you as well"
"Haines, you and one other, fill the bags, as full as you can, nice and heavy, the others shift them"
Within 60 mins everyone was dripping with sweat and covered in dust. Pete's back already looked sore. Another hour passed. "Right the times up, put your arms up if you want to lose your vest" Two arms go up (Pritchard & Taylor), he walks down the line, pulling each lad's vest off, "The rest of you, you know what to do", Slowly they remove their shoes, wary of what the gravel will do to their bare feet, but not wanting to lose the protection of a vest. Turning to two of the guys still wearing vests, he said "You two fill the sacks, Haines you're on carrying duties"
Maybe before the lads had regretted their life of crime, maybe not, but in the following hours they certainly did. The sacks would have been rough against protected skin, add in backs soaked in sweat and every circuit undertaken does damage. Unprotected skin takes about an hour to start to burn in hot sun, after around 3 or 4 hours, the skin goes red, and suddenly becomes sore. Anyone watching would have see the prisoners arms and legs start to burn, but for the moment their backs were partly protected. One of them was suffering however, Steve's back must have been agony, but still he pushed on, determined not to show his will had been broken,
Bare feet and gravel don't go together, again this was intended.
Time passes quickly when you're busy. "Right all stop, you can have a break" Keen to obey, but not really believing what had been said, they obey the guard slowly. He moves to the hottest part of the field, "Pritchard go to the gym and get two pair of white shorts, for you and Taylor" A few minutes later he returns "You two over here, and you Jones" They follow, still not understanding.
"Strip - everything." Maybe now they've worked what's happening, maybe not, anyway all three obey" Pritchard, Taylor get the shorts on, Jones, you stay naked "Hands on heads, backs to the sun. You'll soon get a nice tan"
"Rest of you back to work"
Pressurised to keep working, not one of them had felt the sunburn developing on their arms and legs, the sacks had rubbed their backs sore, even those with vests, the gravel had cut the bare soles of those minus shoes. Now they had time to look at each other, and to notice not only their mates, but their own bodies reddening. Stripped almost naked and made to stand in the sun at full midday intensity it would soon become worse.
Time seemed to stop, at first it seemed pleasant to not have to work, instead to be allowed to stand in the sun, to sunbathe in fact. 4 hours later it didn't seem pleasant anymore. Anyone newly arriving would have seen 3 lads all lined up in the sun, they would have worked out that they were being punished, but now how. Closer inspection would have revealed how, would have revealed Pete's backside, bright red, exposed to the sun for the first time and would have revealed all 3 backs turning deep pink.
The guard goes round with a water bottle, allowing each a drink, then slapping them hard on their backs, they winch "Only another 2 hours to go" Jones starts to cry, having worked out that tomorrow morning he faces the cane, and already his backside feels raw and tender, what it would feel like tomorrow he couldn't begin to imagine.
For the first time those working are grateful.
Time goes slowly, the sun gradually loses it heat, eventually this aspect of their punishment is finished "Pick up your work clothes, everything needs to be washed for tomorrow, into the changing room, all shower, white shorts on, into the gym. Faster"
When they go to move they all realise what's happened, as every movement hurts. For the first time they appreciate cold showers, but not having to towel dry, rough towels on sore bodies.
The gym session is 2 hours of pure hell, two hours of workout and shuttle runs, sweat pouring off of them making the sunburn feel worse.
Back in the changing room they're on their own for the first time since the morning. A couple of them have pulled their shorts off, mostly they are just sat on the benches, kit still on; the first chance to look at each others bodies properly, stunned into silence. One of the normally quiet lads makes the first comment "_f_u_c_k_, if my back looks like any of yours, I've been sunburnt before but never like this".
Pete looks up, "We're all in the same boat, all of our backs are raw from work, but ours are sunburnt as well, It's alright for you, I've got something much worse to face tomorrow, look at Steve's back and the bastards didn't make him spend 4 hours in the sun before, what's my arse going to be like" He starts to sob, Steve goes across to him "Don't let them see you like this mate, it's what they want. You'll get through it, you will" Not listening, Pete lashes out with his arms, Steve reacts "_f_u_c_k_ you, I'm only trying to help". Pete launches into him, two of the others go to pull him away, but too late, the Boss has been watching.
"Jones, get over here" He moves over "Now you're really in trouble. Firstly we'll have you stripped naked, lets all see your pathetic little body" Pete starts to drop his shorts but not caring anymore, he goes to hit the guard "Bastards, you're all _f_u_c_k_ing bastards" The guard grabs him easily, pinning him to the floor "That was very silly lad, very, very silly"
To be continued........