The Price of Discipline
Unlike Payner, Jake wasted no time. Danny was startled when he heard the woosh of the rod through the air and the sharp crack onto his ass cheeks, but his consciousness was shattered when the pain exploded into his brain. “A-a-a-a-a-g-h!” he screamed in mortal pain, making a deafening sound in the small room. The gag did not interfere with the young man’s cries of agony.
A brilliant red welt instantly puffed up on Danny’s ass, two red segments separated by his hairy ass crack. He pulled sharply on his arms, hurting his already bruised wrists and aching shoulders. His abs contracted into thick bands, all his big muscle groups mounded, cramped, and ached deeply.
Then the second blow: woosh, splaaat, PAIN, scream, gasp for air, scream again. Small tears were forced from his eyes as he closed them tightly. He almost did feel like crying from the pain and despair and helplessness. The wounded animal couldn’t escape. Neither fight nor flight were options. What can you do when your brain is filled with mind-bending pain? Nothing, except wait for more.
And more came. Two quick blows, two more welts, one continuous scream, punctuated by gasps for air. Another stroke of the rod, then another. He lost count in the agony. He had never felt this level of pain in his life. The shear intensity from the thin rod was so strong it could singe pain nerves raw. He again pulled against the pole bondage like a wild animal, bellowing from being caught in a bear trap.
Through the red mist of agony Danny heard Payner say: “An even half dozen. Well done, Jake.”
The rain of blows stopped, but Danny’s brain was still in agonized chaos, his ass burning intensely, his wrists and shoulders aching from the strain. He was on the defensive, trying to find some morsel of survival energy, waiting on edge for more. This time more did not come and Payner’s comments seem to imply that the caning was over.
“And well done, Danny,” Payner said, running his hand across Danny’s sweaty shoulders as the ball gag was unshipped from his mouth. “You took the demonstration well. Please understand it was just a demonstration. Actual discipline is longer and more intense. Just remember how you feel right now if you are ever tempted to disobey.”
It took all of Danny’s strength to reply: “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”
“Good, good,” Payner replied. Then he addressed his assistant, Gerry: “My dear boy, would you take a few pictures of Danny’s ass here? You can give them to him as a reminder.”
“Yes, sir,” Gerry replied. He took out his cell phone and photographed Danny’s ass. His ass cheeks were basically white, contrasting with the tan of the rest of his body, but the white was streaked with six brilliant red/purple welts, each one divided in two by his crack. Two of them had several drops of blood along the welt. One was weeping a tiny rivulet of blood. It combined with his sweat and ran down his right ass cheek onto the back of his thigh. Each guard in the company had a small picture of their ass from this first training session. They were required to keep it in their wallets as a constant reminder of what disobedience would lead to.
More than a few of them had lapses and were subjected to a punishment caning which was, as Payner had noted, long and intense. Several passed out during their sessions from pain overload. They were forcibly revived to receive the full complement of punishment due them. The welts from this caning melded to form red-purple bruises, which bled profusely. The beating was usually followed by a round of abuse from the trainers. The blood aroused the trainers and, like sharks, they went into a frenzy. The vics were given special time off for recuperation, which often took days. Back on the job, their behavior invariably improved.
Over the years a few subjected to discipline caning reacted in an unusual fashion and became what is called in the jargon pain pigs. These young men, for some deep psychological reason, craved intense pain. This created a problem for Payner’s security business because they would deliberately violate rules just so they would get punished. Payner had to take them off regular job duty for the sake of the business; client property had to be rigorously guarded. He kept them available, chained up in cages, for his trainers to hone their sadistic lusts. The “piggies,” as they were called, were also used for sexual release by anyone in the company needing it. Payner had a small side business renting them out.
As the guards were releasing Danny from the pole, Payner continued to pontificate: “This is your first lesson, Danny boy. Remember it well. Now the trainers are going to teach you the special skills you need: hand-to-hand combat, surveillance equipment, and gun use and safety. I am sure you will be a productive member of the company,” he added, patting Danny on his bruised ass.”
Danny winced from the pain, but simply responded: “Sir, yes, sir! Sir, thank you, sir!”
Payner tossed him a white jock strap. “Here’s your training outfit.”
Danny painfully slipped the jock on. Just moving his body made all the muscles ache. The jock was clearly a size or so too small. It fit tight and the pouch barely contained his junk.
“A little tight, sir,” he said to Payner as he adjusted the pouch the best he could.
“Not by accident,” Payner replied and left the room.
Danny painfully followed the guards out of the torture room and upstairs for the classes Payner had described.