The Last King of Brighton

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The thin oak stake was about nine feet long, blunt at one end, pointed at the other. The shaft was coated in something oily. Beside it on the grassy ground there were ropes, blocks and a mallet.

The paunchy naked man looked at these things, his eyes bulging. There was tape across his mouth. His hands were taped together behind his back. He was shivering uncontrollably, his flesh wobbling. The four men jerked him to the ground and lay him on his belly. He screamed through the gag.

They tied ropes to his ankles, then two of them pulled on the ropes to spread his legs.

The tallest of the two remaining men laid the stake between the naked man’s legs, the sharp end pointing into his body. The other knelt and rummaged between the legs with a knife. He turned his head away when the man fouled himself but continued to poke and cut with the tip of the blade.

The naked man jerked and squealed through the gag. As he spasmed, the men holding the ropes pulled them taut so he could only buck. His bound arms shook.

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