Clarence Walthall was feeling a chill from the persistent layer of clouds that hung over the penitentiary in the far north coast of California. In September, his home town of Pomona, 50 miles inland from the ocean, usually roasted with 100 degree plus temperatures every day. These hot days provided a source of cheap electricity for all of those who had placed solar panels on their roofs after the "deregulation" scam in the early years of the century. Clarence was soon to find out how the California penal system was going to warm up his ass.
The warden, Ron Placer, had had enough of the fighting between the black and Mexican prison gangs. Having got his start whipping ass as a sheriff in Orange County, he knew just the way to deal with these gangs. After a particularly bloody brawl over telephone privileges, he decided to make an example of the gang leaders. The leaders of the most powerful black and Mexican gangs were to have their butts busted in front of the entire prison population, with their enemies sitting right up front to enjoy the view. He figured that the humiliation of their leaders would break the power of the gangs.
Clarence was head of the largest black prison gang in the pen, and his ass was up. Earlier in the day, four prison guards had dragged him from his cell and stripped him down. He was then walked bare assed in the chilly air to the flogging frame in the prison yard. The other prisoners were standing in front of the frame. An aisle separated the black prisoners, who were standing to the left of the frame, from the Mexican prisoners, who were standing to the right of the frame. The "minority" prisoners, i. e., the whites and the Asians, were standing on both sides of the aisle in the back.
Clarence was being tough. He stared straight ahead and did not look at anyone. He was a little over six feet tall, and had skin the color of dark chocolate. His long dick was waving in the breeze, with its milk chocolate circumcised head set off against the dark shaft. Soon he reached the triangular frame, where his ankles were tied to a crossbar between the two legs and his wrists were tied together and then to the top of the frame. His hard, protruding, utterly hairless buttocks were now exposed to the strap.
The Mexican gang members started yelling for the action to start. The prison guards _c_o_c_k_ed their weapons as warden Placer told them that there would be no yelling allowed. The black gangs were looking straight ahead, trying to keep their dignity. An aide brought warden Placer the leather strap, and with very little formality, he landed a blow right across Clarence's ass. Clarence clenched his butt and stifled a scream. A few seconds later, the warden struck again, hitting a slightly lower spot on the ass. There was more clenching and another stifled scream. The third lash hit home. After another short delay, Placer had placed a much harder stroke in the same place as the first one. Clarence screamed out loud. Broad smiles erupted on the faces of the Mexicans. The blacks were embarrassed that their leader could not take it like a man. Placer had made his point. He then delivered five strokes in rapid fashion, causing Clarence to plead for mercy. But there would be no mercy. After a short rest, warden Placer delivered the final three, and Clarence was bawling. Looking at this handiwork, Placer noticed that Clarence's butt was covered in dark welts. He wondered if he could create the same reactions in the next set of buttocks.
Miguel Michoacan was next to be led bare assed up to the flogging frame. He was shorter than Clarence, less than six feet tall. But he was as tough as a bulldog. He had a thick, uncircumcised, brown dick. The rest of his body was smooth and muscular from prison workouts. His brown butt was hard, round, and hairless. Tied to the frame, it presented a tempting target. The warden decided that he would now give a speech on proper prison behavior. As Miguel's ass stood their exposed, the warden explained how the prisoners should first respect the guards, then the other prisoners, and finally themselves. After finishing the speech, he struck. Miguel did the same thing Clarence did, and tried to hold the pain in. Methodically, the warden delivered another blow, and Miguel also tried not to respond. This was becoming a battle of wills. The third stroke was intense, and in the same spot as the second. Still Miguel did not respond. The same spot suffered again on the fourth lash. And the fifth. This particular part of Miguel's butt was taking on a rather unhealthy reddish brown hue. The sixth stroke was delivered with all the warden's strength. And Miguel screamed "Santa Maria!" Now the black prisoners were smiling. The last four strokes were delivered rapidly, to the accompaniment of Miguel's screams in Spanglish. His ass was now reddish, brown, black and blue. And he was disgraced in the eyes of his followers.
From now on in, gangs in the maximum security prison were going to be a lot easier to deal with.