Jay and Colin

                      Author : Jay Bee JBates3327@aol.com

It was July 1962. I was on top of the world. I had finished my History `A’ level exams the day before. I was confident of passing. But better than that I had finally got out of the job I hated. No more would I go to that boring office where I lived in fear of Mr Jackson’s ruler. Next week I started a new job with the local council. I was to work in their planning department as a filing clerk.

My interest in planning had started at an educational open day I went to in the Spring. There was a careers tent. The lady there suggested I look at planning. I was dubious. She gave me some brochures. I went to talk to Mr Foster, my landlord about it. Unfortunately I was so excited about a possible new job that, when I saw him, I ran across a road without looking. I got knocked down by a bike. That evening I got the best spanking of my life. Ten with the tawse, six with the whippy cane called Stinger, all on my bare bottom. Even with the ointment Mrs Davies, his housekeeper, provided I was sore for several days after.

However, once my punishment was over I was forgiven. The next day I had a long chat with him about changing jobs. He was supportive. He said the best place to go would be the Council. He had contacts there and asked around. As luck would have it a vacancy was coming up as one of the current clerks was leaving. I applied for the position. I think I got it partly because of my experience in the office, partly because of my `A’ level studies and partly because I expressed an interest in planning. I was really pleased. I handed my notice in to Mr Jackson with no regrets at all.

I left my old job a week before my `A’ level exams. They were held over a two week period. The Council job started on the first week but they gave me paid time off to do the exams. I didn’t actually have to go in until next Monday. The time off was `study time’. It wouldn’t count against my holiday entitlement. So here I was; a bright sunny Friday and the ability to enjoy it. I decided to go for a long, lazy walk in the countryside. I might even find a pub for lunch.

At that time I was coming up to seventeen and a half. I hadn’t really started shaving yet. I only needed to shave once a week at most. I had reached five foot eight a year ago and seemed to have stopped growing. So I did have trouble getting into pubs. Sometimes I could. Sometimes they threw me out. It was this that made me think carefully about what to wear. My inclination was for shorts and a T shirt. If I wore those I would be told to get back to school. On the other hand it was too nice a day for long trousers. If they threw me out so be it. I quickly changed. I admired my reflection in the mirror. My slim, firm body looked fine. I scampered down the stairs, yelled goodbye to Mrs Davies and was off.

We didn’t live too far from the outskirts of the town. Within fifteen minutes I had reached the edge. I looked at my map. There was a river about a mile away. I could go down a lane that led to it. If I followed the towpath I would get to a little village three or four miles on. There was a pub there. Then I could either walk back the same way or loop round through the woods. I strolled happily down the lane. For once I was really looking forward to going to work on Monday. I wondered what my new colleagues would be like.

When I reached the river it looked cool and inviting. I wished I had brought some swimming things. But I hadn’t so I set off along the bank. There was a light breeze that made walking a pleasure. I looked at the ducks and swans. I threw stones at passing debris. I watched the boats go by. I had plenty of time so I just ambled slowly to the village. The pub was open. They wouldn’t serve me a beer. But I got some lemonade and crisps and sat in their garden by the river. While I was there I looked at the map again. I decided to loop round through the woods. There was a well marked footpath so I should be fine. I took my empty glass back into the pub and walked up through the village.

I found the footpath easily. The way wound round a hill and then entered the woods proper. It was quiet under the trees. I could hear birds singing and the chattering of squirrels but not much else. It seemed as if I had the world to myself. After a while the path led me into an open space. There was a fenced field with horses in it. A figure was leaning against the fence watching the horses frisk about. I recognised him instantly. It was Colin.

Colin had been to the same history evening class as me. He was really good looking and about my age. He had a sort of elfin face, dark, slightly curly hair and brooding brown eyes. That was combined with an almost perfect body. Not that I had seen it. He always wore his school uniform to the class. He was still wearing it now. I often imagined what he would look like without the uniform. He was quite standoffish. He didn’t make any friends in class. I realised even as I approached him that he probably wouldn’t want to chat. But nevertheless I went up to him. It was worth a try.

"Hi," I said.

He jumped with shock. He can’t have heard me approach. He whipped round, hands coming up to defend himself.

"Hey, it’s me, Jay," I reproved him.

"Oh, sorry, Jay," he apologised, "I thought you might be one of them."

"One of who?" I asked. "Are you being picked on?"

"Never mind," he snapped. "That’s my problem. Go away."

I nearly did. But I had often wanted to be alone with him. It was worth making the effort to be nice.

"Look," I said, "If you’re in trouble I may be able to help."

"No thanks," he said sullenly and deliberately turned back to watch the horses.

I leaned on the fence by him. I didn’t say any more. It was good just looking at him. Suddenly I heard a sniff. I looked at him more closely. He was crying. I asked what the matter was. It all poured out. In the summer term last year he had been approached by a prefect; an older boy he really liked. The prefect wanted sex. Colin agreed. They had it several times. Colin let him do what he wanted. Then, just before the end of term, they had been caught. The prefect was severely caned and expelled. Colin got the cane as well. They let him stay on but everyone knew what had happened. He had no friends. He got beaten up several times. Worse, his dad was really angry. He got another caning. He had to wear his school uniform at all times for the next year. He was to work really hard. That was why he was doing the History `A’ level in our class. It was an extra punishment. The year was nearly up. But today his dad had said that he would have to go on wearing his uniform until Christmas. He was really fed up.

"Now I suppose you don’t want to know me either," he finished, still crying, " But I had to tell someone. It’s just so unfair. I had been good. I did the `A’ level. I’ve got a Saturday job and give all my wages to my mum. But now he says he doesn’t think I’ve been punished sufficiently."

I longed to put my arms round him. I nearly did. But I knew it was too soon.

"Why should you think I don’t want to know you?" I said softly. " It’s not for me to judge you. If anything I feel you’re right. It is unfair. But we’re boys. I have to take the spankings I get. You have to take the punishment your dad gives you."

He looked at me in shock. "You get spanked?" he said incredulously. "You always look so cool in class. You’ve got a proper job. How come you still get whacked?"

I told him about Mr Foster. I said what Mr Jackson did with his ruler on my bare bum. I was in the scouts. Mr MacKenzie could whack me anytime.

"I’ve heard about MacKenzie" he said. " That’s why I didn’t join the scouts. I hear that if he whacks you, you know all about it."

I agreed. I hadn’t had it from him .... yet. But my mate Dave had got a really good hiding from him when he was a scout. It was definitely something to be avoided.

We drifted back to town along the path. His tears dried. We talked about class. I asked why he wasn’t in school today. Apparently it was a half day. I told him about my new job. We began to get quite friendly. As we got closer to town Col started hanging back. He didn’t want to go home.

"Let’s go to the barn," he suggested.

"The barn?"

"It’s an old barn I go to sometimes when I want to be alone. It’s through here."

We dived through some bushes. The branches scratched at my bare legs. Then we came to a clearing. At the far end was an old barn. It looked deserted. We scrambled up a slope and in through some rotting doors.

Inside it was obvious it wasn’t a barn as such. It looked more like an old milking shed. There were rusting stalls for the cattle. Old harness straps hung from the walls. It was still in use, for one end was piled high with bales of hay. Otherwise it was neglected. Dust motes span through the musty air. Spider webs were everywhere. A ladder led up to a loft.

"Come on," said Col and began to climb. I followed, mesmerised by that gorgeous bottom ahead of me. We emerged into a dimly lit attic. It was almost barren. A couple of rotting chairs, some junk in the corner and that was it.

We stood there looking at each other, a sudden tension between us. Neither of us said anything. But we both realised. He came towards me. He was experienced. I was the novice. Our eyes met. I put my hands at the back of my neck. I was his and he knew it. He halted at arms length. His hands reached out to the waistband of my shorts. I shuddered but didn’t resist. He pulled them down. They fell to my ankles. He grasped my pants. They landed on top of the shorts. My T shirt hid nothing. My cock went rigid. He stepped back and appraised me. Unbidden I turned round.

When I had made the circle he started undressing. I watched with awe as he stripped to his pants. Before he could take them off I moved closer. This was my privilege. I hugged him. Then, I reached for the base of his pants. I tugged them down. He stepped out of them. He was as I had always wanted to see him; naked. He had a good uncircumcised cock. His bottom, when he turned round was magnificent. It was like a ripe peach. No wonder his prefect had wanted it. I drank in the sight.

I longed to touch him. Greatly daring I moved a hand towards him. He didn’t stop me. I caressed those velvet cheeks. Then I gripped his balls and felt his length. He was rock hard. He in turn handled my cock, turning it this way and that. He squeezed my circumcised tip and I felt a thrill of pleasure run through me. He was in control. He gestured and I turned my back to him. There was pressure on my shoulder. I bent over, my legs wide apart. His finger explored my passage. It felt like the time Mr Foster had briefly touched me there. I couldn’t let him go on. I had a vow to keep. Regretfully I straightened. I really wanted him to continue but I had other plans. I smiled an apology. I wasn’t ready to share my secret with him yet.

If Col was disappointed he didn’t let it show. He grasped his hard cock and began to slowly move it up and down. I took mine in hand and followed suit. After a couple of minutes I was in a frenzy. I arched my back. The pressure built and built. Then came release. I spattered all over the floor. I panted in ecstasy. Col came almost at the same time. I had never seen anyone come before. His spunk shot a good foot into the air. We both looked at each other in silence. Without a word we cleaned ourselves and dressed. We descended the ladder to the barn below.

Neither of us felt like going home. So we sat on the hay bales and chatted. He told me more about his affair. The outcome had been worse for the prefect. His dad had made him sign on with the army for seven years. I wanted to ask him how it felt to take a man inside you but didn’t like to. Instead I told him about my new job and the scouts’ summer camp I was going to. A dog barking in the distance reminded us of the time. It was still early but we had better make a move. We got up and, still chatting, made our way to the door. Suddenly there was a scrabble of claws at the entrance. A dog rushed in and started growling at us. We froze. Then we heard heavy footsteps approaching. A man appeared through the door. From the way he was dressed it was obvious he worked on the farm. He called the dog to heel.

"Well, now," he said slowly, "What are you boys doing here?"

"We were just looking," I tried. "We didn’t mean any harm."

"No right to be looking, have you now?" he observed.

"No, sir." said Col "We won’t come again."

"I’ve had problems with boys in here before. If you’ve got matches on you I’m going to the police. Turn your pockets out."

He gestured to a large table to one side. We looked at each other. The dog growled. What could we do? Reluctantly we moved over to it. I didn’t have much on me. A handkerchief, the map, some coins and a key ring. Col had quite a bit more but, luckily, no matches. The farmer came forward to inspect the sad little pile. He picked up Col’s school timetable.

"Colin Apps," he read aloud, "St James’ Grammar. What will your headmaster say if I tell him one of his boys, in uniform, has been trespassing in my barn."

Col went white. The last thing he needed was more trouble at school. "He ... he won’t be very pleased, sir," He stammered.

"Put his stick across your backside will he?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what about you, boy?" he said, turning to me. "Go to the same school do you?"

"No, sir."

He looked at the contents of my pockets. He picked up the key ring. My new key ring. My new key ring with my name and address tag for him to read. My heart sank. If he told Mr Foster about this I was done for.

"Well, what do you do then?" he asked.

I told him about my new job with Council. He wasn’t impressed. I gathered that he didn’t think much of office boys who never got their hands dirty doing a real day’s work.

"Wouldn’t be a good start there if I told them about this would it?"

"No, sir, please don’t. We didn’t mean any harm, honestly sir."

He looked us up and down. We must have made a sorry sight. Two contrite boys, eyes downcast, desperately hoping that he would let us go. His eyes moved behind us to the wall. He left the dog to guard us as he went over to it. Dumbly we watched in horror as he examined the leather tack hanging off the rusty pegs. He selected a broad strap. I knew what that was for. My mouth suddenly went dry. He snapped it between his hands. It gave a loud crack. Dust flew everywhere. He nodded with satisfaction.

"I don’t like boys in my barn. You haven’t got matches. You haven’t taken anything. But you’ve no right to be here. I don’t want you back. Six a piece with this strap on your backsides might encourage you to stay away."

We protested. We pleaded. He was adamant. Either we took

the strap or he would report us to Col’s parents and head and to Mr Foster and my new boss.

"Come on," he finished "It’s up to you, seven with the strap or face the music elsewhere."

"Seven," I gasped, "But it was six a minute ago."

"The longer you keep me here talking when I’ve got work to do, the more it’ll be. Now, make your minds up."

Neither of us wanted to be reported. Reluctantly we agreed to accept his punishment. Somehow, now he had us, he was no longer in a hurry. He rounded up the dog and tied its collar to a post. We noticed that that left the dog between us and the door. With a bit of sacking he cleaned the strap. He put it down on the table and took his jacket off. He gestured us to go to the hay bales at the far end of the barn. Miserably we did as we were told. He followed us, the heavy strap swinging from his right hand.

"Alright, schoolboy," he said to Col, "You’re first. Get up against those two bales."

In one place there were two bales stacked on top of each other. They came up to about waist height on us. Col moved over to them. He stood close to the hay.

"Now, take your trousers and pants down."

Col whirled round. For a moment it seemed he would defy the farmer. Then his shoulders sagged. Tears forming in his eyes he turned back to face the bales. His hands moved at his waist. The trousers slipped over his bottom then fell to the ground. His white pants fluttered down his legs to be caught by his socks.

Once more that lovely behind came into my view. Without being told he bent over the bales. The farmer stepped up to him and lifted his jacket and shirt tail over his back.

"Right," he said. "Seven good ones coming up. Don’t you dare

move or it’ll be worse for you."

With that he stepped back. He drew the strap behind him and then swung it down hard. It swooshed through the air and landed on Col’s bum with a mighty thwack. Col gasped with pain. As the leather came back for the second I could see a dark red stain forming on those luscious cheeks. It seemed almost a desecration. The next whack got him high up. However for all the reaction Col gave he might not have been hit at all. It was the same with the third; although by now most of his bottom was turning crimson. I watched fascinated. Yet I shook as I realised it would soon be my poor backside under that lash.

The fourth made Col shiver. He gave a little moan and jiggled up and down on his toes. With the next he jumped and let out a long howl of pain. His bottom was red from near the small of his back to just above his thighs. I looked at the farmer. He seemed completely unconcerned at the damage he was doing. He just raised the strap up and brought it down as hard as he could. Again Col screamed and wriggled about. As the strap moved away I could hear him sobbing. The last one thwacked in. He yelled again and jumped up. His hands flew to his injured backside. Tears were streaming down his face. The farmer ran the strap through both hands. Then he turned and looked at me. I froze with fear. It was my turn.

"Well, now, office boy, let’s see what you Council lot are like when the chips are down."

Col had pulled up his clothes. He came to stand by me, rubbing his seat frantically. Time seemed to stand still. As if in slow motion the farmer waved me towards the bales. I walked stiffly up to them. I dropped my shorts and pants in one go. Then I bent over the hay. It tickled my sides and I wriggled about to get settled. The bales were secured by string. I reached down and held onto the bindings. I had always loved the smell of hay. Now it was part of my nightmare. I stilled and awaited my fate. In my mind’s eye I could see the strap rising behind me.

It fell like molten metal on the top of my thighs. I jerked forward and felt a bale move with me. I yelped and wriggled. And this was only the first one! But I found I could take the second. It seared into the crown of my bottom. It hurt, it really hurt, yet I managed not to let it show. The third got me dead centre, right across both cheeks. I shuddered, gasped and gripped the string tightly. There was a pause. I heard the farmer moving about. Then the fourth cracked down. It landed more on my left cheek, scalding and burning. I writhed in agony. I ground my teeth and somehow restrained a yell.

I couldn’t hold out any longer. The fifth totally defeated me. It was another direct hit and if I hadn’t been holding on to the bindings I would have leapt to my feet. As it was I let out a howl and started to cry. I was panting heavily. The next got me low again. I suppressed a cry of pain, but only just. I wriggled and writhed. I was gripping the string so tightly it was hurting my hands. The last one seared in. Yet another direct hit. I howled in agony. I wanted to jump up but my fingers were trapped in the string. It was biting into me. I had to struggle free of it before I could move. Then I stood up, vainly trying to blink back the tears. My hands flew to my burning bottom. Only when I had given it a good rub did I reach down and pull up my shorts.

"Are you going to come here again?" the farmer asked.

"No sir," we chorused, our voices trembling with pain. Through a mist of tears I saw him go back to the table and put his jacket on. He waved us to him. We picked up our things. He untied the dog and pointed to the door. We needed no second invitation. It would be nice to be able to say that we walked out, our heads held high. We didn’t. We scuttled through the opening and ran as if all the devils of hell were after us.

I met up with Col lots of times after that. We went walking or cycling together. We found places where we could enjoy ourselves. But we never, ever, went back to that barn.

Jay Bee April 8 1998.