It felt good to feel the sunshine on their faces. Fresh, clean air in their lungs. The valley was spectacularly green. Spring. The season of renewal. They stepped lightly, no, they almost skipped, away from the pit village. They had their secret place. Where they could be safe.
The coal mines were booming. The war was coming; the economy was booming. Double shifts were worked by all. They worked underground for fourteen hours at a time. Things looked good. To some. God was in his heaven.
Their place, a clearing in the wood. Not far from the beaten track. But far enough. Another world. A place where Dai Jones and Alun Owen could be themselves.
Dai saw Alun’s Adam’s apple slide up and down. Saw him blink more quickly. Press his lips together. He saw that he wanted it. He closed his eyes, felt his breath on his face. His hand on his cheek, throat, neck. Their lips met and an electric shock went through his body. He kept his eyes closed, felt his lips so soft, his hands gliding across the small of his back, his stubble, the smell of coal dust and his taste. It struck him how natural it felt.
“Quickly,” he breathed and raised both arms above his head. Alun whipped Dai’s shirt over his lover’s head. Then Alun raised his own arms and they both were half naked. Big, strong chests. Rippled muscles. Their bodies interlocked.
Fumbling fingers unfastened buttons. Trousers, underwear too, slipped to the knees. Big, hard, stiff erections. Aching. Desperate for relief.
An intrusive sound. The crunching of twigs underfoot. They were not alone.
“Hey, you two, what d’yer thing you’s doing?” An unnecessary question. Police Constable Thomas knew exactly what they were doing. Perverts!
Discovery. Terror. Caught performing unnatural acts. Disgrace. Prison loomed.
PC Thomas stood an imposing sight. He easily topped six feet tall and had once played prop at rugby. He was running to fat but remained a commanding figure. All the more impressive because he carried with him the full force of the law.
“Alun Owen; and you a married man,” the policeman sneered. “Dai Jones, what would your poor mother say?” He spat into the ground as if clearing his throat of a disgusting taste. He peered at the two near-naked men before him, trying not to stare at their by-now limp cocks.
Shivering with trepidation the two coalminers waddled up their trousers and pants to regain modesty. They stood, their upper bodies still naked. Too terrified to look at the policeman. Too ashamed to look at one another.
“It’s the end for you now, you know that?” It sounded like a question, but was a statement of fact. Humiliation and disgrace awaited. “You’ll get thrown out of the pit. From the village. Most likely go to jail.” PC Thomas was simply telling the truth. Without embellishment.
“Why do you do it boys? Why?” He shook his head from side to side as if he were carrying the weight of the whole world on his shoulders.
Tears welled in Dai’s eyes. Why did he feel such shame? Only moments earlier it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Love between two people. Love given and reciprocated.
PC Thomas stood and watched. Their poor mothers. Alun Jones’ wife. They too would suffer for the perversions of their menfolk. Then, the policeman had an idea. He would do it for the womenfolk, he convinced himself. They didn’t deserve this.
PC Thomas glared. “Back in the days there was this magistrate up in the valleys. He had a case just like yours. Perversion. Do you know what he did?” The two wretched men standing before him could only stare blankly.
“He ordered them to be whipped,” he smiled spitefully. And, in case they hadn’t quite understood, he added, ominously, “Birched.”
The silence was broken only by the sound of distant bird calls.
“We could cut out the middleman, boys,” PC Thomas, cleared his throat which was suddenly dry. “If you get my meaning.” He cast his dark brown piercing eyes around about him. His intention was unspoken, but nonetheless clear. He was searching for suitable rods to make a birch.
Blast! He didn’t say it aloud. That would betray his inner feelings. There was nothing that would make a birch. And, he suddenly realised, he had no twine to bound together a rod.
Dai and Alun remained quiet; eyes downcast. Studying their feet; like naughty schoolchildren summoned to the headmaster’s study.
“There’s nothing here that would make a birch,” PC Thomas stuck his thumbs behind his belt, “but I could use this.” His eyes blazed. “A good leathering, that’s what you need.”
Dai’s face flushed. His eyes moistened. He hated himself for being such a coward. Any moment now he feared he would burst into tears.
Alun’s mouth opened. He stopped himself from speaking just in time. He wanted to tell the rozzer to go to Hell. But he knew he shouldn’t. They had been caught breaking the law. PC Thomas could do anything he wished with them.
“What say, boys?” a wicked grin split his flabby face. Sweat ran down the side of his hairline even though it wasn’t a hot day. “A nice warm whipping, eh.” He rolled the word “whipping” around his mouth, savouring every syllable. He unbuckled his two-inch-wide leather belt and with a flourish pulled it through the loops in his serge trousers. He doubled it up and held it by the heavy metal buckle.
Alun looked at Dai but his pal stared at dead leaves beneath his feet. He would get no answer there.
“Right boys,” PC Thomas held the belt hand so it tapped against his thigh. “Trousers and underpants down.” He raised the belt and slapped it into his left palm. It tingled, but that was nothing compared to what it would do to the two men’s arses.
“C’mon boys, I haven’t got all day.”
This time Alun and Dai did meet each other’s eye. Alun’s impassive cold grey eyes contrasted with the terror stare of Dai. No word was spoken. There was no need. The lovers often communicated without word. They must let the vile policeman have his way.
Alun reached for his own belt and began to loosen it.
“Good boy,” PC Thomas leered. “Now bare your buttocks and go stand close to that tree. Put your arms around the trunk and clasp your hands together. You,” he nodded to Dai, “you go stand by the other tree.”
Soon the two men were naked, except for a puddle of clothing at their feet. Hugging the tree emphasised strong back muscles. Their buttocks were full, but taut. Two penises rubbed hard against bark.
PC Thomas’s tongue poked through pursed lips. He rolled it around his dry mouth. He gulped trying to create saliva. He stood near Dai, his heart racing. The policeman had seen many naked men, but he had never been so close to one. He stifled the urge to run his rough hand across Dai’s almost hairless back and across his big round bum.
Dai almost head-butted the tree as he tensed himself for the strap. PC Thomas raised the belt a couple of inches, felt its weight, then raised it some more. It seemed an eternity before Dai heard the whistle of the leather through the air and it crashed at full force into his arse. A broad sunset stripe immediately formed across the centre of both cheeks.
Dai’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound emerged. His already moist eyes watered. PC Thomas cared little. He turned his back and walked three paces to Alun. Where Dai was hairless, Alun was covered in fur. Thick black hair grew out of his bum crack. To stiffen his courage, Alun clenched his fists, bit his lip and tensed his body. The policeman swiped his belt across the top of the mounds, it made an almighty crack that echoed through the woodland. Alun wriggled his arse at the shock. Close by a flock of birds rose to the sky, startled by the noise.
PC Thomas walked back to Dai and whipped him a second time. Then Alun, then Dai again. Over and over the policeman thrashed his leather belt across their arses.
Later that night, alone in his tiny bedroom Dai relived in it all in his mind. Nakedness. Humiliation. The masterful policeman. The pain as the heavy leather belt flogged into his flesh.
He could feel his cock filling out; it moved up from between his legs, rubbed against his thigh then flopped up onto his stomach. Dai’s hand slowly massaged his swollen penis. Stroked along the full length from base to head. Then let go and returned to the base again. His other hand cupped his balls. A groan of pleasure escaped his throat.
More stories you might like
More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website
Charles Hamilton the Second