Visit from Africa

The bearded one stands with his arms pinned above, the wooden paddle cracking against his bare ass as the stocky man holds him steady, no mercy, just the sharp sting of discipline. The blond pours a dark liquid from the bottle, watching as the shaved-headed man bends over the stone pavement, his muscles flexing under the first lash. Canning follows, the liquid hitting with wet precision, and the only sound is the wet slap of skin and the breathless grunts of the men taking it.