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Date: Fri, 11 Apr 2025 21:36:32 -0400
From: RE Stinger <memres@sprintmail.com>
Subject: Naval Maneuvers 4

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Naval Maneuvers
by RE Stinger  copyright 2025

4

Five days had elapsed since George sent his letter and log to the
admiralty. Their response arrived with the return of the
logbook. Evidently, the hint of scandal had indeed sent them scurrying, no
matter how they felt about George personally. They had summoned
Lt. Jackson. George had suggested that he should be "quietly stripped of
rank and pension." But it wasn't so quiet: the admiralty wanted to show
itself as "morally upstanding," so after dismissing him in disgrace, they
turned him over to the civil authorities on charges of sodomy and rape.

George had wanted the admiralty to simply get rid of him. A civil charge of
rape was hypocritically ignored but "sodomy" could get Jackson
hanged. Despite his loathing for the man, George knew he had to do
something. The admiralty had indicated which court had brought the charges
and where he was being held.

George despised it but wrote another letter: this one on Jackson's
behalf. He noted to the court that if charges were brought against him,
they would have to charge half the military. George wrote to the admiralty
as well, thanking them for their actions, but expressing his feeling,
however disingenuous, that anything beyond Jackson's dishonorable dismissal
could lead to distrust of the entire service.

He sent both letters and in another two days, received responses. The
admiralty valued his opinion, given his status, and would try to withdraw
the civil action. The court wrote back that they had no wish to impugn the
integrity of the military and would dismiss the charges against Jackson,
releasing him on his own recognizance if George would vouch for him. It was
a bitter pill for George but he agreed. He would not let a "molly" hang,
even a repugnant creature like Jackson.

After four more days, the household was surprised, to put it mildly, when a
disheveled, gaunt, hollow-eyed figure in military breeches and a torn
jacket knocked at the door.

David answered and inquired, "May I be of assistance?"

"May I see your master, please?" asked the figure.

George heard the exchange and went to the door. It looked like Jackson or
his remains. "Lieutenant Jackson?" asked George.

"Sir..." was all he said before collapsing at the doorstep.

David and Geoffrey carried him into the sitting room and lay him on the
sofa.

"You know how I despised you, but what has happened?" asked George.

Jackson was honest but did not attribute his downfall to George. He had
come because he could think of no one else who might speak to him. George
was both pleased and horrified that the admiralty's perusal of his log had
such a profound effect.

"I've come to apologize, sir. Both to you and to the boy whom I so foully
mistreated, if you know where he is--not that it would do any good," he
said bitterly. The boys and Tom heard Jackson's voice. Tom and Joe
recognized it instantly and entered the sitting room. Tom was gratified but
Joe was regretful.

"You know Thomas Briggs. And you certainly remember Joseph Wickes, now
Joseph Greene, my adopted son," said George. Jackson was afraid he would be
pulled apart by the bosun, from the look on his face. His pulse became
rapid and his breathing shallow. He passed out.

"I think he's dehydrated," said George.

"And he smells as bad as he looks," said Tom, with absolutely no pity.

Joe brought a pitcher of water, a glass, and revived Jackson.

When Jackson was conscious, George asked, "So you came all the way here to
apologize? That can't be all."

Jackson caught a shaky breath. "Principally, yes. But I had nowhere else to
go. My family has stricken me from their lives. I have not a shilling to my
name. And no one will have anything to do with me."

"How did you find me?" asked George.

"It was not difficult to find where the Lord Greene resided. But getting
here took days of riding on hay wagons, carts, and endless walking. I
starved and was beaten by highwaymen several times when they discovered I
had no money."

"It was I who enabled your release," said George.

"Why would you after my cruelty and vice... what I did to your... son?"

"Now you know how it feels to be ill-treated and powerless. I would have
gladly seen you hang as soon as look at you. It was Joseph who wanted me to
be merciful. When I learned that the admiralty had turned you over to the
civilian authorities, I persuaded important friends that scum like you
infested the navy, and didn't want a witch hunt."

"Better you had let me hang," said Jackson.

"I would not have you hang for your inherent nature. I would see you hang
for rape, but the court cares nothing about the abuse of penniless boys,"
George spat. Jackson, through cloudy eyes, looked incredulous.

"Yes, your inherent nature. Our nature. And you disgrace us," declared
George.

"Please, sir. I was so full of self-loathing and anger that I allowed
myself to inflict it upon others. I assumed everyone else was normal and I
wanted revenge upon them."

"My Joseph is not 'normal,' as you stupidly put it, any more than I or Tom
or anyone here. Your violation, that cost me so many tears and sleepless
nights, made me regret letting you live. But I understand."

Jackson fell to his knees at Joe's feet, pleading for forgiveness. "How
could I know?"

"I told George that I forgave you and even that without your abuse, we
might not have met. But how could you think your deeds acceptable, even
against those who loathe us?" asked Joe.

"The world hates us so, and I was filled with rage," said Jackson. "When
Lord Greene confined me to my quarters, I began to think about the passion
he displayed. I had never seen it before in a ship's commander. Then I
realized he loved you. I never had the chance nor the courage to tell him
of the bitter remorse I felt at my horrible error."

"Had you never known your own kind? It is we who are your refuge," replied
Joe.

"I thought I was alone in my shame. All I heard were terrible things about
my kind," said Jackson. "I have been a monster, but do I dare ask your
help?" implored Jackson, looking around the room at the faces of "his
kind."

"David, please get this man food and clothes... and a bath," said George,
sighing. Jackson did look a fright. Perhaps he had suffered enough. Joe had
forgiven him, but for George, it would be a greater effort.

"Joe, you make all of us better people," said George, holding his boy close
to his breast. Tom hugged Joe as well.

Joe observed, "You know, George, that I was resigned when Jackson wanted me
flogged."

"I remember," said George, controlling his emotions. "It struck me as odd
even then."

"I had suffered so much," said Joe, "first from my ex-father for being a
'molly,' then at the hands of clients in the brothel. It was not new. And
remember that Jackson was merely the last of nine rapists that night, Only
Tom was gentle, like a lover. It is ironic (Joe was learning George's
vocabulary): the others only wanted to satisfy their lust but Jackson
thought he was revenging himself upon a merciless society that hates us."

"Are you suggesting pity for that twisted creature?" asked George, amazed.

"Yes. His life has been little better than mine. Worse in some ways, I
daresay. I met others like us, even if some were cruel, but I knew I was
not alone," replied Joe.

"I need to think about it," said George. "My boy is so wise, so kind,"
George thought as he looked at Joe with love.  ****************** David
helped Jackson bathe. He was trembling. David saw many marks of violence
and frighteningly comprehensive flogging upon him. His clothes were
blood-stained. From what George and Tom had said, he knew he shouldn't feel
pity, but he couldn't help it. The man had been so mistreated that perhaps
he had atoned. David imagined Jackson as a formidable monster. But he was
youthful, slender, and pretty--notwithstanding his injuries. He evinced a
surprising modesty as he bathed and dressed in new attire, and expressed
his gratitude profusely.

David brought him into the kitchen, but he ate very little, still shaking
so. David recognized the symptoms of shock and lay him in his own room to
rest. He slept in seconds.

"George, he's in worse condition even than he looks," said David. "I think
when the charges became known, he was brutally flogged in prison. You know
how they treat us. He's so delicate. I think he carried that rattan so
people wouldn't think him 'soft'--you know: 'mollis' in Latin, whence
'molly' originates.

George began to feel sympathy for a man he had learned to despise.

Jackson didn't stay asleep for long. Terrifying dreams hounded him and he
awoke in a sweat. David was gone, so he thought he would have to leave. At
least he looked a bit more presentable as he found his way upstairs and
made his way to the door.

"Where are you going?" asked eagled-eyed George.

"I thank you for your kindness, sir, but I cannot trouble you any further,"
said Jackson.

George laughed a little. "And just where do you intend to go?"

Jackson fumbled for an answer, trying vainly to retain a shred of dignity,
but failed.

"We're just starting dinner. Why not stay? My boy forgives you and that
will have to be enough for me. You have nowhere you can go, have you?"
inquired George laconically.

Jackson lowered and shook his head in shame.

"I thought not. You will stay, then," said George.

The large table was surrounded by family in high spirits, as
always. Jackson asked George quietly, "Is everyone like us?"

George laughed. "Of course. My servants are also family and they dine with
us."

Jackson walked in slowly and took a cushioned seat at the table that David
had arranged for him. He was uncomfortable but relieved. David introduced
him, to a brief shocked silence. "He's not what you think," said
David. "Please tell us about yourself. We're all family here."

Jackson took some water and began. He was uncertain how he would tell it
all.

"My family were wealthy tradesmen in London. I went to Harrow and then
Cambridge. But as you probably hear in my voice, they all thought me
'effeminate.' I had experiences with boys. It was play for them, but I felt
differently. I came to hate myself and distrusted everyone." Some members
of the family nodded in recognition.

"I entered the navy as an officer. My parents wanted me to finish my
studies but thought a military commission might make me less 'soft.' I used
it to vent my anger and caused as much pain as I felt. They hate us, don't
they? Lord Greene, you saw the rattan I carried to inspire fear. The only
warmth I felt was at molly houses where I prayed no one would recognize me.

"When I lost my rank, I thought it was just as well. I hated the navy and
resigned myself to a lonely life. But when I was arrested, it was worse
than hell. No barrister would touch me. My family abandoned me and
insisted, should I survive, that I change my name so I wouldn't disgrace
them. The warders beat and flogged me ruthlessly and all laughed at my
suffering, even as I lay bleeding. They cared not about the rape. They just
would not suffer a sodomite to live. When I was released, I had nothing and
nowhere to go. Master Joseph, I know, that with your generous soul, you
forgive me, but I can never forgive myself."

Joe looked at Jackson. Out of uniform and without that hard, angry
attitude, he was familiar. But Joe couldn't quite remember the
circumstances. Then it hit him.

"Christopher, we had met. After my father threw me out, I worked at a molly
house rather than starving. I was... with you. I did not recall it because
you were so gentle. You even professed love. You seemed so desperate, but I
could do nothing to help you." Tears moistened the eyes of both Joe and
Christopher.

"I wanted love but I believed there was only hatred for me," said
Christopher. He rose unsteadily and asked, "Master Joseph, may I embrace
you?" It was a most unexpected moment. "You were my only glimpse of
tenderness. I didn't know how to integrate it into my experience of the
world. And it was a transactional encounter, so I erased it from my mind."

"It was transactional," said Joe. "I recall it especially because you were
so grateful that you left me enough money above what my employers took that
I could leave that awful place. That money ironically led me to you in your
unrecognizable, violent state. But it also led me to George."

George was emotionally exhausted. "More wine, everyone? I know I need it,"
he said.

Nathaniel saw that relief from the somber tone was required. "I have to say
that living with my Joshua is wonderful but a trial. He is a bit of a
mess. I finally got our place in order yesterday. And today, there's more
disarray to contend with."

"I did warn you, my love," said Joshua, kissing Nathaniel.

"That you did, but I never thought it would be a daily reconstruction."
Nathaniel raised his glass, "To tidiness." Everyone met his toast and
laughed. He had broken the spell of sadness around the table, at least
partly.

After the rum cake, everyone went into the parlor. George sighed, "What are
we to do with you, Christopher?"

David answered, "He can work with me." Explaining to Christopher, he said,
"I am Cambridge-educated as well, but, like Joshua, wanted to escape and be
with my own people. Joshua brought me here."

"My God, it's a Cambridge reunion," George thought. "Maybe educating my
sons and my brother," looking at Tom, "will be easier than I thought," he
said. "David, you will help as will you, Christopher."

"You wish me to stay?" asked Christopher, still incredulous.

"Yes. There is no other place for you. I also think that you should eschew
your surname. Not out of shame but to establish a genuine, chosen
identity."

"Where shall I stay?" asked Christopher, still very disoriented.

David interjected, "I don't think he should be alone, George, after all
he's suffered. He shall stay with me."

"Very well. You may take care of him. His suffering was partly my doing but
it has brought him to us. If Joe forgives him, I must as well," said
George, embracing Christopher as he never imagined in his most fevered
dreams.

Eventually everyone returned to their rooms--or house in the case of Joshua
and Nathaniel. As they lay together, holding their beloved ones close, they
thought how lucky they were, how many tormented brothers were suffering
still, and how they were always in danger, though less so with George to
protect them. They saw their love as defiant now, especially Joe.

Joe insisted that George, "Use the heavy strap on me as much as I can
endure. I'm strong."

George was more pragmatic but he understood after tonight's resolutions and
revelations. He took the handled strap and did lay a dozen strokes across
Joe's buttocks. Joe didn't cry out or flinch; he was defiant as the wide
red stripes multiplied.

"Now spank me over your knee, George," he continued. George could do no
more than obey and smacked Joe's swelling backside hard for five
minutes. The pain, which was now substantial, strengthened Joe's resolve to
follow George's example and save as many of their brothers as he could.

Tonight, he sat on George's stiffness and controlled the sexual
activity. It was intense and furious and profoundly erotic when they each
shot their spurts triumphantly. It reflected the moment. They went again,
Joe on his back, kissing George vehemently, both shooting so hard that
their penises might have been weapons.

George was so proud of Joe, of his family, even of all the brothers he had
never met. "Someday!" he thought.

Joshua lay with Nathaniel and told him of the moment which soured him on
Cambridge. He was in a private class translating Plato, and they came to a
passage concerned with _paiderestia,_ when, as usual, the professor said,
"We will, of course, skip the passage relating to the unmentionable Greek
vice." Joshua had heard some version of that phrase for three years
already, and something snapped. He left the class and asked his friend
George for help. "'The unmentionable Greek vice,' indeed--the foundation of
the great culture, the highest form of love, and it was to be 'skipped'!"

Nathaniel had not quite healed so Joshua spanked his handsome buttocks
gently, using only his hand and reddening them a bit, but like George and
Joe, they fucked with defiance that night. It had great heat and even rage.

Joshua had an idea. "David reminded me that 'molly' originated from the
Latin for 'soft.' I didn't realize how ridiculous it is for us to use
it. We are tougher than anyone. During the reign of Louis XIV in France,
the king's brother, the _Duc d'Orleans,_ was like us and protected our
people at court. The king wasn't fond of us. The _duc_ and his friends
called themselves 'gai,' which is may seem paradoxical for our condition,
but it's better than 'molly,' which is an insult coined by those who would
destroy us. I will suggest to George, even though it's origin is French,
that 'gay' is the word we use around here. What do you think, my love?"

"Sounds good," said Nathaniel, kissing Joshua.

Tom strapped Josiah, much to the boy's great delight, stroke after stroke
descending, and Tom's hefty penis ploughing Josiah's tight hole to climax
three times, with generous amounts of semen inside and out. Tom was on fire
and after their breathing returned to normal, he was furious. Tom was not
inferior nor a criminal; neither was Josiah who, more than ever, held their
pleasure sacred, angry at the suffering endured by his people.

John was young but he realized parallels with Christopher: his former
violence toward others, but now his tenderness and affection for his own
people. George had enlightened him. Freddie hadn't had such a hard time: he
was lucky. But knowing what had happened to Nathaniel in their own village
infuriated him. "We defy them. Give me what I want!" he shouted at John who
smacked his buttocks with a wooden ferule until the stripes glowed
red. John hand-spanked him afterwards, swelling that glorious butt and
fucking it with fervor. They both yelled with pleasure as they climaxed,
Freddie not even needing to touch his penis. A repetition was much the
same, as was another an hour later.

The feeling of battle consumed the house, "Someday!" the war cry.

The catalyst, Christopher, lay with David. Christopher had been angry for
so long that he was exhausted. His most recent battle had been painfully
lost and he was covered with wounds from head to foot, inflicted by thugs,
both on the road and while under arrest. David was alarmed at his
condition. There would be scars. He had been repeatedly and viciously raped
and then flogged to bleeding during the days before George arranged his
release.

Christopher remembered the whole trauma. The warders had bound him to a
rough bench, naked and prone, his hands tied, and his legs astride the
bench. Common, vile prisoners raped him continually. It was not sex, but
the cruelest violence. After four times, Christopher spat defiantly,
"Aren't you afraid of catching the sodomites' disease?!" His rebelliousness
merely earned him painfully twisted testicles and six more rapes.

The warders watched with vindictive satisfaction. When it was over, blood
and semen oozed from his tortured anus onto the bench and they declared,
with evil smiles, "Look what a mess you made. You must be punished," and
proceeded to flog him brutally from neck to knee for what seemed like
hours. Christopher, though in indescribable agony, refused them the
satisfaction of crying out, even when they poured warm salt water over his
copious welts. Christopher's agony merely confirmed in his mind that
"normal" men were monsters who would torture his kind to death at every
opportunity.

David did everything possible to minimize the extent of the damage with
ointments, eastern and herbal remedies--all of which George had collected,
soft bandages. As importantly, Christopher held David closely and David
hugged him gently. David dropped many tears at Christopher's
misery. Christopher's chest heaved; he was weak but he was feeling the
human connection he had been denied for his 25 years. David wondered if he
was becoming attached to the suffering man a few years his junior.
****************** George had gone through the magistrates' logs by the
next day. In such a minor village, almost nothing came up: a few drunken
brawls, a few bits of damage. The penalties were minimal and virtually
always settled without criminal charges. Smythe and Coggins led easy lives
for more money than they deserved. The record seemed clear: they had
followed George's directions implicitly. "Why Smythe's sudden
disobedience?" he wondered. On the following day, he sent another letter to
Coggins.

"Dear Mr Coggins,

"I have examined the records, and happily for you and Smythe, my
instructions appear to have been followed. It leaves me to wonder why I was
so grossly disobeyed recently with the abuse of Nathaniel Croft. I can only
consider that some rabble rouser or crackpot preacher needed to victimize
someone in the village. Take care that no such persons are permitted free
reign again if you value your remarkably easy situations. I saw cruelty in
the populace that angered and disappointed me. Under my watch, there shall
be no scapegoats.

"Tell Smythe that he may sleep peacefully. I don't like him any longer and
will watch both of you more carefully than in the past. But he may count
himself fortunate that I will allow him to keep his position. He should
seek to preserve it with great care. I still want every case, no matter how
minute, brought to my attention, as I can no longer trust him--or you, for
that matter, regardless of my amicable feelings.

"Yours sincerely,

"George Lord Greene, Esq."

David met with George in his study after the letter was handed to a servant
for delivery. He told George how Christopher had been tortured in
confinement. George made some remark about "just desserts," and David
grabbed him. "Oh, no, George. He is in bed. I fear for his life. You must
see for yourself."

David took George to his room where Christopher lay barely conscious. He
made a pathetic attempt to rise when George entered. George stopped him and
sat with him. He examined Christopher's body. He thought of his beloved Joe
naked upon the grating. That had been terrible and infuriating, but this
was more distressing. Christopher's anus was still swollen, far worse than
Joe's had been, and furious welts, many with dried blood on them, covered
his back, his buttocks, his thighs.

George grew pale. The first thought that crossed his mind was, "How could
he be blind to Joe's 'softness'? It is so like his own." He understood the
man's hatred of their mutual oppressors, certainly if they could visit such
extreme injury upon him. Even after violating Joe, why had he not made
every attempt to explain his error to George? For the first time, he felt
true pity for Christopher, and anger rising in his throat.

He knew how privileged he was, with his title, wealth, influence, and
unusual upbringing. It was almost a game to outwit his enemies. He now felt
guilt. Why did he not realize this possibility when he sent the log to the
admiralty? Christopher and Joe were both victims of the same murderous
hatred. He had never seen it as clearly.

"Forgive me, Christopher," he said. "I have wronged a brother without
knowing, just as you did."

Christopher was astonished and weakly took George's hand. "I wish I'd known
you at Cambridge," he said.

George couldn't control his tears. "Why did you not tell me, even in a
letter?"

"It was your love that I had foully defiled, even if inadvertently. How
could I expect forgiveness? Perhaps now I have atoned," Christopher
suggested tentatively.

George held his gaunt face. "We shall fight them together, shall we not?"

"We shall, sir," said Christopher, hope in his voice at last.

"It's 'George,' not 'sir,' brother."

Back to being the ultimate pragmatist, George inspected Christopher's
wounds minutely. They were not quite as mind-numbingly dreadful as they
first appeared. His anus would heal just as Joe's did, though it would take
longer. The warders were trying to cause him as much anguish as they could
and succeeded. But by flogging him on so wide an area, they had actually
spared him from more lasting damage than if they had concentrated their
lashes. That explained how Jackson had been able to walk such a long
distance in so damaged a state. With proper care, the scarring would be
minimal. But it would take time.

George explained how David must care for Christopher, keeping infection at
bay, promoting healing. George would oversee the process but it was obvious
how much David felt for the man.