JAY'S CHRISTMAS, 1963

                      Author : Jay Bee JBates3327@aol.com

Christmas was coming. The Town Hall was in turmoil. At the start of the New Year the Council’s area would increase. This meant more staff and more responsibility. Workmen were expanding the canteen, the public health department were moving out to a separate office block and every file in the place seemed to need a new home.

As the junior filing clerk in the planning department little of this affected me to start with. But then I got caught up in it. My promotion was due. I was to be in charge of the filing and organisation of the new Local Plan. It was decided I should have my own office. My delusions of grandeur quickly faded. What I ended up with was a poky little hole, filled with shelving for all the files and with barely enough room for two desks. The second desk was for my junior who would join us in about five months’ time. As I settled in I really missed being in the main office, even if it meant I was out of Mr Findlay’s watchful eye.

The confusion of all the moving interrupted the office party schedule. I had three work parties to go to. There was the planning department do, the whole council party and, for the first time, all of the boys who worked at the Council were having a little party themselves. We had had to work hard to persuade our bosses to let us. Even then Mr Edwards, the Council officer in charge of us, had to be present; so we couldn’t have as much fun as we’d hoped. But it would be good to have a laugh on our own.

I was still wary of Mr Edwards. A couple of weeks ago I’d had the cane and the strap from him. My bottom was sore for days after. So I reacted with alarm when Mr Findlay told me he wanted so see me.

"Oh but sir," I stammered, white faced, "What have I done?"

"As far as I’m aware Jay, nothing," he smiled. "Just because he’s sent for you it doesn’t mean trouble. Anyway go and find out."

I reluctantly made my way down to Mr Edwards’ office. The other two men he shared with were out. I stood trembling in front of his desk. He smiled up at me.

"Get yourself a chair Jay," he said. "You’re not in any trouble. It’s just that we need to discuss your new duties."

At the beginning of January I was to be responsible for disciplining the younger boys; those between fifteen and seventeen and a half. I had whacked boys in the scouts so I knew what to do. But Mr Edwards clearly wanted to ensure I was up to the job. I brought a chair over and sat down. He passed me over a list of names. There were seventeen boys who would be under my tender care. Some of them I knew already. Others were joining us from the Council whose area we were taking over. Three were coming straight from school.

We talked over how I should go about my new role. On January 3^rd when the Council restarted after the New Year’s holiday I should have them all in for a short meeting. Perhaps I should take them down to the basement room where punishment was handed out. I should explain the system. I should also tell them about the gym classes. Up to now we had had to do P.E. twice a week. With the influx of boys that was being cut. Each group would do only one weekly session. The only trouble was that while I had to work out with the seventeen and a halves to twenties I still had to be present when the group I was responsible for was in the gym.

He asked me if I had any questions. I wondered if I could impose other punishments apart from a spanking. He said he’d consider it. In any event a committee was being set up to deal with boys employed by the Council. I would be on it. I was really pleased. The number of committees you were on was a status symbol in the Town Hall. I would be the only boy on one.

Preparations for Christmas were in full flow at home. When I got back that evening I was dragooned into helping set up the Christmas tree in the hall. I held it steady while Mr Foster, my landlord, put it in its pot. Once it was up I then kept the string of lights unravelled as he draped them around the tree. While we were working he confirmed what I’d hoped for. Mrs Davies, his housekeeper, was going to her sister’s for four days after Christmas. We’d be alone together for four whole days. I couldn’t help grinning at him. He gave me a light slap across the back of the head. He knew what I was thinking. But he couldn’t hide his own enthusiasm.

Back at work the party season started. The planning department do kicked it off. It was alright but as there weren’t any people my age there I got bored quite quickly. I chatted to a nice looking guy called Alan who was joining us in the New Year. This was his first job after university and he was very enthusiastic about it all. Other than that I drifted around, made sure I got a good feed from the buffet then went home early.

The main Council party was held on the 20^th. Everyone who was anyone in the district was there. I even caught sight of the lady magistrate who had dealt with the planning case in which I’d been a witness. She smiled at me, sniffed and moved on. There must have been over five hundred people milling about in the main hall and committee rooms. Most of us boys gathered to one side, placed strategically between one of the bars and a buffet. Not all of us were there. Some had been dragooned into waiting on the VIPs. But we had a good time.

About half way through the evening Jim, a dark haired sixteen year old who worked in the post room, sidled up to us. His thin, wiry frame was shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Watch Baxter," he sniggered, and disappeared hastily.

Mr Baxter was the hall porter. He was an ex-Navy chief petty officer who delighted in causing boys trouble. Every day we had to run the gauntlet of his inspection as we came into work. It was rare that any of us escaped without some caustic comment. None of us liked him. Sometime ago Jim, with another boy, had thrown a bucket of water over him. They hadn’t been caught but we all got a really good telling off from Mr Edwards. No one had played any more tricks on him. It looked like that was going to change.

We took it in turns to sneak glances at him. He was standing self-importantly at the entrance to the main hall, medals gleaming on his immaculate uniform. Someone had got him a drink and he sipped from it occasionally. For about quarter of an hour all seemed well. Then he began to sway a little. He rocked back and forward on his toes. All at once, as he was swaying forward, he lost his balance. He didn’t fall over but he stumbled and his glass dropped to the floor with a crash. A silence fell. Everyone in the room was looking at him. We desperately concealed grins. He staggered over towards his little room to the side of the hall. He just made it.

We had to leave the hall quickly. We got to a washroom and just fell about laughing. It was a classic. Jim would be a hero for the next year. We didn’t know how he had managed it but it was brilliant. No one felt sorry for Baxter. It served him right for being such a pain.

Still laughing we went back into the hall for more drinks and eats. Before we could get there we ran into Mr Edwards. He had Jim against a wall. The poor boy was white faced and trembling. His wide brown eyes were moist.

"Ah," Mr Edwards said, as we came up. "I suppose you lot think spiking Mr Baxter’s drink was funny. Well this young man won’t after I’ve finished with him tomorrow."

With that he shot one more scowl at Jim and stalked off. We gathered round. Apparently after he’d spiked the drink he couldn’t resist hanging around to see the end result. When Baxter had staggered off he left the hall and ran into a friend. He had to boast about what he’d done. Unfortunately he’d been overheard by one of the senior officers. Mr Edwards had been summoned. Jim was really for it. We sympathised. We got him a drink but I don’t think it helped much. He left the party shortly afterwards looking very worried.

The next afternoon my phone rang. It was Mr Edwards. He wanted to see me at five o’ clock. I agreed and put the phone down. I started to get a bit concerned. Five fifteen was the time you had to be in the basement for your punishment. Perhaps he was going to spank me for not setting a good example last night.

At five o’clock I presented myself to Mr Edwards. Once more he was on his own.

"Jay," he began. "In two weeks time Jim will be under your control. Assume for a moment that he is now. How would you punish him?"

"A good spanking sir," I replied automatically.

"Yet you seemed to find his activities last night funny enough at the time."

"Sir, if I’d been in charge then and known what he was going to do I’d have stopped him. But I wasn’t. Anyway Mr Baxter asks for it the way he treats us."

For a moment I thought I’d gone too far. Mr Edwards’ eyes narrowed. "That’s not the point young man and you know it," he snapped. "Alright, I accept you weren’t in charge last night. I had hoped better of you though."

"Yes sir," I said glumly, looking at the floor.

"Well, that’s water under the bridge. The reason I wanted to see you now is that I think it would be useful for you to be present while I punish Jim. It would show you the routine - even though you’ve been through it yourself."

I was a bit taken aback. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to watch Jim get it. I certainly wouldn’t want anyone around when my bare bottom was being whacked.

"Oh but sir....." I started.

"Jay, in a fortnight you’d be the one to spank him. Come on."

With that he got up and made to leave the room. I stood gaping at his retreating back for a second then hastily followed him.

We marched down to the basement. Jim was already standing outside the room Mr Edwards used. He was shivering uncontrollably; clutching the punishment book tightly in one hand. His eyes widened as he saw me but he said nothing. We swept past him and into the dingy little office.

Mr Edwards went to the metal cupboard and unlocked it. I made a note to ask for a key at some stage. The cupboard contained two canes and a strap. I shuddered at the sight. Only three weeks ago I had been on the receiving end. He reached in and brought out the strap. He laid it on the desk. A heavy bamboo cane followed.

"It’s always a good idea to have these out before you bring a boy in," Mr Edwards said softly. "It tends to concentrate his mind."

I nodded in agreement. It certainly had that effect on me. Mr Edwards went to sit behind the desk. I was to stand to one side. When we were ready he called Jim in. There was a pause then the boy appeared. He came to stand at rigid attention in front of the desk. He gazed with fear at the implements on the table. Mr Edwards held out his hand for the punishment book. Silently Jim handed it over.

"Jim," Mr Edwards started, "I’ve asked Jay to be present because as you know he will be responsible for you in the New Year. I trust you have no objections."

Poor Jim just shook his head dumbly. I would have done the same in his place. Now was not a good time to start getting stroppy.

"Very well," Mr Edwards continued. "I’m not going to go over what you did to Mr Baxter. Jay tells me that he asks for it. All I can say to that is that any boy who plays tricks on him is going to wish he hadn’t. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," Jim stammered, close to tears.

"Is there anything you have to say for yourself?"

"I’m sorry sir. It was only a joke. And he is really mean to us."

"I’m not interested in that," Mr Edwards snapped. "I will not have boys disgracing the Council in the way you did; in front of half of the most important people in the area too. If you carry on like this you’ll be fired."

Jim’s eyes widened. "Really sir?"

"Really. It’s about time you grew up. You’re not a schoolboy now."

"No sir," Jim sighed. "I’m sorry sir."

"You will be. Ten with the strap and six with the cane."

Jim blanched. He swallowed nervously. A tear ran down one cheek. I shivered as if it was me going to get it. Ten and six. It would be terrible.

"Yes sir," he managed bravely.

"You’ve been here often enough," Mr Edwards commented. "You know what to do. Get on with it."

Jim stood absolutely still for a moment. Then his shoulders dropped. He slowly turned and made his way to the corner. There was an old sawhorse there, covered with gray blankets. He went to stand in front of it. His jacket was laid to one side. He fumbled at his waist. His trousers fell to his ankles. A pair of clean white pants swiftly followed. There was another short pause. Then with a sob he bent slowly over the horse. His thin, firm bottom rose in the air. He shifted around a little then stilled. His bare bottom was now in the proper position. His punishment could begin.

Mr Edwards let him wait for a bit. He looked at the punishment book. He drew my attention to the number of times Jim featured in it. I glanced at the quivering bottom awaiting its fate. I realised that I was bound to have to give it a good spanking myself before too long.

With a sigh Mr Edwards got to his feet. He picked up the strap and moved to stand beside Jim. He motioned me to come round so that I would have a clear view of proceedings. Then he reached out and brushed Jim’s shirt up his back. The target area was now totally exposed. He placed the strap across those smooth white cheeks. He raised it back. As it came behind him I had to step hastily out of the way. He drew it as far back as he could then, with a smooth swinging motion, brought it down hard on that firm, round bottom.

It landed with a crack. Jim gasped and wriggled. As the strap came back for the second a vivid red mark appeared across his white cheeks. The second was delivered just as firmly. Mr Edwards was getting into a rhythm. Jim managed to stay quiet for the next two. By the fourth though he was shivering with pain. He bounced up and down on his toes. His bottom was now more red than white, the outline of the strap marking his painful lesson. The fifth got him lower down. It was too much. He yelped and writhed.

The sixth finished him. It landed squarely across the centre again. He jerked up and howled his sorrow to the stars. Mr Edwards didn’t even blink. Without a pause that relentless strap rose and fell. The seventh landed, drawing out yet another wail of distress from the well spanked boy. By the eighth I could hear him sobbing into the blanket. The ninth made him jerk upward again. For a moment I thought he was going to stand up. But he knew he had to stay down. The tenth made its presence felt. Once more a howl of agony rang around the dusty basement. Poor Jim was shaking like a leaf, writhing, sobbing and moaning. The rhythm of the strap faltered and stopped. The first part of the punishment was complete.

I just stood there gazing at Jim’s battered bottom. It was crimson and scarlet. Most of the whacks were in the centre so it only looked as if he’d had four or five. I knew from my own experience how much it must hurt. Yet worse was to come. The cane.

Mr Edwards took his time. He slowly walked over to the desk. He put the strap on it. He paused, looked at Jim, then picked up the cane. It was a heavy bamboo. I’d had three with it a couple of weeks ago. It not only hurt when it landed but left bruises that still ached days later. He ran his fingers down the cane as if checking for splinters. When he was satisfied all was well he turned and made his slow way back to the quivering boy. The cane was extended. It tapped on Jim’s throbbing bottom. Then the last part of the punishment began.

The first stroke whopped down. It was too much for Jim to bear. He shot up, howling and sobbing, his hands flying to his wounded cheeks.

"Oh sir! please sir!" he wailed. "I’ll never do it again, please sir!"

"Get down now!" Mr Edwards snapped. "Unless you want more."

The boy looked around wildly, as if seeking escape. Tears were flowing unchecked down the side of his face. But he knew there was to be no reprieve. Sobbing and moaning he turned and slowly bent himself over the horse. Once more his bare bottom rose in the air. Mr Edwards brushed the shirt up his back. He resumed his stance. Then without more ado the cane was raised. It whipped into those burning cheeks. A muffled scream followed. Jim was obviously biting on the blanket to try and take the pain.

After the third he was wriggling so violently that Mr Edwards had to pause until he stilled. The scarlet and crimson of his bottom was now marred by three heavy, darkening lines. They were quickly joined by a fourth. Jim cried and wailed. I could hear him muttering something over and over again. It sounded like `please sir, oh please sir.’ Mr Edwards took no notice. The fifth and sixth followed in quick succession. Jim screamed and cried, bouncing up and down on his toes. But it was over.

He was left where he was while we returned to the desk. Mr Edwards put the cane down and started writing in the punishment book. He set out the offender, his offence, the punishment, and the date and time. All the while we could hear Jim sniffling and sighing, still draped over the horse. I took another good look at his bottom. It must really hurt. I knew the only thing he wanted to do right now was stand up and give it a good rub.

Eventually Mr Edwards granted his wish. He rose unsteadily from the horse and turned to face us. The cheeks of his face were as red as those of his backside. He moved his hands cautiously round to it. When he saw there were no objections he started to slowly rub the pain away. He had almost stopped crying now. After a minute Mr Edwards told him to get dressed. He pulled his clothes up quickly, put his jacket on and came to stand in front of the desk.

"No more tricks," Mr Edwards frowned at him.

"No sir, I’m sorry sir."

"Alright Jim but you’re being punished far too often. I meant what I said about being fired. If you give Jay too much trouble you’ll be out."

Jim glanced at me and gave me a shy smile. "Yes sir," he managed. "I’ll try sir."

"See that you do," Mr Edwards snapped. "Now sign the book."

Jim leant forward and scribbled his signature. Mr Edwards took the book back from him. Under the comments section he wrote `warned for dismissal.’ Jim blanched. I knew he needed the job. I promised myself then that the boy would have to do something really wrong before I’d recommend that. If spankings didn’t work I’d try something else.

"Very well Jim," Mr Edwards sighed, "You can take the book back to Mr Baxter."

"Thank you sir," Jim said sadly. He turned and walked away, one hand still rubbing gently at himself.

Mr Edwards turned to me, "Well," he said. "Now you see how it’s done. In a fortnight’s time it’ll be you handing it out. Just remember that if I find out you’re abusing your powers it’ll be your bare bottom over the horse and your howls disturbing the dust."

"Yes sir," I grimaced.

He locked the cane and the strap up again. I remembered to ask for a key. Then we walked back upstairs. Jim was nowhere in sight. I guessed he was in one of the toilets, inspecting the damage. Mr Edwards said goodnight and I wandered home thoughtfully. I had no worries about handing out a spanking or two but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be responsible for sacking people.

Jay Bee

August 20 1998