Published anonymously in 1881, The Sins of the Cities of the Plain; or, The Recollections of a Mary-Ann stands as one of the earliest and most explicit works of gay erotica in the English language. Attributed to the real-life Victorian rent boy Jack Saul, the book offers a rare, uncensored look into the erotic and social lives of men who desired other men—at a time when such desires were criminalized, pathologized, and relegated to the shadows.
Set in London’s underworld, the book presents itself as the memoir of a male prostitute, or “Mary-Ann,” a slang term then used to describe effeminate or sexually available men. With brazen candor and vivid detail, the narrator recounts his sexual exploits with aristocrats, politicians, soldiers, and clergymen. The tone is cheeky, performative, and often laced with biting commentary about class and hypocrisy. But what makes this text so compelling today is not only its unapologetic homoeroticism—but also its engagement with erotic discipline, particularly spanking and flagellation, as a site of pleasure and power play.
Who Was Jack Saul?
JJohn Saul, known to history as “Jack,” was born on October 29, 1857, in Dublin, Ireland. By the late 1870s, he had made his way to London, where he worked as a male sex worker in the city’s more clandestine corners. Saul became publicly known after being named in two notorious Victorian sex scandals: the Dublin Castle scandal (1884) and the Cleveland Street scandal (1889), both of which exposed networks of male prostitution among the upper classes and implicated aristocrats, military officers, and civil servants.
Unlike many men of his era, Saul did not hide his profession. In fact, he seems to have leaned into his notoriety. Contemporary sources describe him as witty, flamboyant, and unashamed of his role in London’s sexual subcultures.
Whether or not he authored The Sins of the Cities of the Plain himself remains debated, but the narrative voice—a blend of brash charm and incisive observation—closely aligns with his public persona: knowing, unapologetic, and delighting in transgression.
In the text, Saul’s character is described in vivid terms:
“A fresh looking beardless face, with almost feminine features, auburn hair and sparkling blue eyes… and endowed by a very extraordinary development of the male appendage.”
When asked by a would-be client for his name, he replies with the kind of theatrical flair that would come to define him:
“Saul, Jack Saul, Sir, of Lisle Street, Leicester Square, and ready for a lark with a free gentleman at any time.”
That line alone—winking, defiant, and perfectly timed—secures Saul’s place in the pantheon of queer literary history: a hustler who spoke back, and a man who knew exactly what he was worth.
A Scene of Spanking and Power
One of the most striking episodes in the book comes in pages 20–24, when Saul’s narrator describes being birched by a client in a ritualized act of domination. The excerpt below is both erotically charged and historically revealing, showing how pain, humiliation, and desire intertwine in the early queer imagination.
The birch was produced, and he insisted upon tying me down over the easy chair, so that I could not flinch or get away from the application of the rod.
He began very steadily, and with light stinging cuts which soon made me aware that I had a rather accomplished young schoolmaster to deal with my posteriors, which began to tingle most pleasantly after a few strokes. The sting of each cut was sharp, but the warm, burning rush of blood to the parts had such an exciting effect that, although I fairly writhed and wriggled under each stroke, I was rapidly getting into a most delicious state of excitement.
The light tips of the birch seemed to search out each tender spot, twining round my buttocks and thighs, touching up both shaft and balls, as well as wealing my ham, till I was most rampantly erect, and cried out for him to let me have him at once.
"Not yet; not yet, you bugger. You want to get into my arse, do you? I'll teach you to fuck arseholes, my boy!" he exclaimed, chuckling over my mingled pain and excitement.
"How do you like that—and that—and that—and that?" The last stroke was so painful that it almost took my breath away, and I knew he had fairly drawn blood.
I was furious, my prick felt red-hot, almost ready to burst, when he unloosed my hands and ancles.
I seized him in a perfect fury of lust. His prick was also standing like a bar of iron; he had got so excited by my flagellation. He was turned round, and made to kneel upon the chair at once, presenting his bottom to my attack. No one to look at it would have thought the pinky and wrinkled little hole had ever been much used, except for the necessary offices of nature. The sight was perfectly maddening; it looked so delicious.
Historical and Literary Significance
This passage is one of the earliest verifiable literary depictions of gay male spanking as consensual erotic play, and it is significant for several reasons:
Eroticism through pain: The narrator experiences the birching not as punishment alone but as arousal, his “delicious state of excitement” intensifying with each stroke. This interplay of pain and pleasure would later become a central feature of BDSM culture—but here, it’s already fully formed in language and sensation.
Role reversal and queer power: Though the narrator is initially bound and flogged, he soon seizes control, turning the tables on his partner and taking the dominant role. This circularity of power—where top and bottom, master and servant, switch roles—is quintessentially queer and reflects a playful rejection of strict sexual hierarchies.
Subversion of Victorian norms: During an era obsessed with propriety and control, this scene revels in the exact opposite. It exposes the hypocrisy of a society that punished homosexuality while privately indulging in its pleasures—especially among the upper classes.
Spanking as identity: For Jack Saul’s narrator, this isn’t a one-off thrill—it’s part of a larger erotic worldview. The delight in punishment, submission, and physical intensity speaks to how spanking helped shape the contours of queer masculinity long before gay identity became politicized.
Why We Still Read Sins of the Cities
More than just pornography, The Sins of the Cities of the Plain is an important cultural document. It shows us that long before the leather scene, long before Larry Townsend or Tom of Finland, gay men were already imagining, narrating, and living out fantasies of erotic discipline. Spanking wasn’t hidden in shame—it was flaunted, performed, and embraced as a legitimate expression of queer pleasure.
In returning to this text today, we don’t just rediscover an old scandal. We reclaim a lineage—of desire, of resistance, and of the deep, aching thrill of a birch rod striking skin in the name of lust.
If you would like to read The Sins of the Cities of the Plain; or, The Recollections of a Mary-Ann, it is available on Project Gutenberg.
Fascinating
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