Jay's Enemy

                      Author : Jay Bee JBates3327@aol.com

On a Monday towards the end of April 1963 I came home from Scotland. I had been on a week’s canoe course. I had had a really great time. I even passed. I was now a qualified canoe instructor. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell Mr Foster, my landlord, about it. He had paid for the course. I hoped he’d think it was money well spent.

When I got home from the station he was out. Mrs Davies his housekeeper was there though. I proudly showed her my certificate. She made me sit down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and tell her all about it. I’m not sure if she was that keen but it was good of her to show an interest. I told her about the course and what we had done. There was only one thing I missed out; the good spanking we had all got for disobedience. At eighteen you don’t like to mention things like that. We each got ten with a heavy tawse. I still had the marks on my smooth, firm, round bottom. I just hoped I wouldn’t have to display it to anyone for the next few days.

I finished telling her about the holiday. I asked what had been going on while I was away. Nothing much it seemed. I asked after Mr Foster. He was alright. I hoped so. Before I had gone away things were a little strained between us. He had come to my room one night and had sex with me. It was something I had been hoping would happen for sometime, so I was really pleased. But afterwards he had been cold and distant. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong. Perhaps my absence would have helped to heal the breach.

Mrs Davies brought me back to the present, "By the way," she said, "There are a couple of letters in your room. One of them’s from the Council."

I thanked her and raced upstairs. I worked for the Council. I was a junior filing clerk in the planning department. It was a really good job, particularly after my last one, and I loved working there. A while back I had helped on a long inquiry. That had meant racking up loads of overtime, most of which had to be taken in time off. Scotland had used much of that up. I didn’t mind. I was looking forward to going back to work tomorrow and telling my friends about the trip.

The letters were on my desk. The one from the Council was on top. I tore it open and sat on my bed to read it. As saw the heading my heart sank. This is what it said.

Dear Mr Bee

Boy’s discipline

It has come to the Council’s attention that indiscipline among its junior staff is increasing. A fight in the canteen this Monday and rudeness to the Leader of the Council has brought matters to a head. The Council, and all three unions, have agreed the following policy. It will apply to all male staff under the age of 20 (boys).

(1) All boys will report for work at 8.45. They will be inspected by the chief porter, Mr Baxter. This time will be unpaid.

(2) From 4.00 to 5.15 on Mondays and Thursdays all boys will do P.E. at the Grange Secondary School. Boys are to bring sports kit and a towel for showers afterwards. Failure to bring the right equipment or to attend will be a disciplinary offence.

(3) A senior boy will be appointed as Monitor. The Monitor appointed is Brian Mason ( Public Heath Dept.)

(4) Boys guilty of disciplinary offences will now be subject to corporal punishment, to be administered by the Monitor. Any boy refusing punishment will be dismissed from the Council’s employment.

There followed a tear off slip for parents’ or guardian’s approval of this policy. Under it we had to sign in the presence of our senior officer. If it wasn’t signed our employment would be terminated.

My joy turned to ashes. Brian Mason was appointed Monitor. He hated me. He wanted to get on in the Council. I had an `A’ level and was doing another. He only had `O’s. He saw me as a rival. A while back I had had a fight with him. It was a draw but, as he was a couple of inches taller than my five foot eight, of stockier build and also older than me, he was seen as the loser. From then on he had left me alone. But from the looks he gave me, and from what his friends said, I knew he wanted revenge. Now he was in charge of me. He could whack me. I knew it wouldn’t be long before he took advantage of the situation.

That night I went to see Mr Foster in his study. I showed him the letter. I reminded him of the fight I’d had - for which I received six with his tawse on my bare bottom. He wasn’t very sympathetic at first.

"Do you want to leave the Council?" he asked. "I thought you were getting on well there."

"I am, sir," I replied. "And I like the work and Mr Findlay, my boss. But Mason will give it to me at every opportunity he gets. You know I accept it if I deserve it. But I’ll get it from him even if I don’t deserve it."

"How old is this Mason?"

"About nineteen and a half, sir."

"Then you’ll be free of him in six months’ time, won’t you?" he commented. "You’ll just have to make the best of it. Now, where do I sign?"

Glumly I pointed to the slip. He scrawled his signature. Then he paused. Above the words `I consent to Jay Bee receiving corporal punishment ...’ he added `reasonable and fair’ in red ink and initialled the words.

"I don’t know if that will help you, Jay," he smiled, "But it’s the best I can do. If things get too bad come and have another chat."

"Yes, sir. Thank you sir."

The next morning I arrived at the Town Hall at twenty to nine. I was directed to the car park round the back. Nearly all the other boys were there, standing in two ranks. Mason was in the front. He smirked at me, his tomb like front teeth glinting menacingly. He told me to go to the rear rank. Other boys came and joined the lines. As the clock struck the quarter hour Mr Baxter strutted round the corner. He was an ex navy Chief Petty Officer who thought he owned the Town Hall. Even though he was in his sixties he was still trim and neat. There wasn’t a boy present who hadn’t had the rough edge of his tongue on occasion. He ordered Mason into the ranks. Then he made us stand properly at ease and come to attention. He walked down the lines inspecting us. We had to show our hands. Two boys were told off for biting their nails. Others needed haircuts or should polish their shoes better. When he came to me he sniffed contemptuously.

"Enjoy our little holiday did we?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, well now you’re back you can get a haircut."

"Yes sir."

After the inspection he dismissed us. I walked over to where Pete and Josh, my two best mates at work, were.

"What’s going on?" I asked.

They brought me up to date. Two boys, neither of whom I knew well, had had a fight in the canteen on the Monday. No one knew what started it. They just went for each other right in front of everyone. They had been sacked. The same day a messenger had run into the Leader of the Council and sworn at him. All the boys had been assembled. They were lectured by the deputy town clerk. Someone started laughing. It was the last straw. Two days later the letters came round. All their parents had signed; although one boy had quit. Mason was appointed Monitor.

"He’s already whacked Harry," Josh added.

"What for?" I asked

"No gym kit. He got six with the strap. Mason really laid into him."

"Is that what we get, the strap?"

"No, we can get the strap or the cane." Josh said gloomily. "It’s just that he hasn’t got round to using the cane yet. But he will."

I left them to get to the planning office. I didn’t want to be late. Mr Findlay, my boss, was already there, drawing on his first pipe of the day. I went over to his desk.

"I’ve got my slip, sir." I told him.

He didn’t reply immediately. He was busy sucking at the pipe to get it going. When he was satisfied, he took it out of his mouth and leaned it on the ashtray.

"A bad business young Jay," he commented, shifting his bulk in his chair. "I can’t say as I approve. But no one asks my opinion. You’d better sign it."

Reluctantly I signed the paper that said I agreed to be spanked by Mason. Mr Findlay initialled it. He raised his eyebrows when he saw Mr Foster’s additions but said nothing. He then took the slip. It would be sent to personnel and kept in my file. I went to my desk and started on the pile of work waiting for me.

At lunch I went up to the canteen as usual. Brian had moved to sit at the head of the boy’s table. Before we had all laughed and chatted. Now a very subdued group of boys ate their meal in near silence. The only talk came from Brian and his cronies. I was halfway through my lunch when Mike brought his tray to the table. He was just seventeen and worked in the post room. As he sat down Brian stopped talking to his friends.

"Mike," he said loudly. "I hear you skived off into town this morning."

Mike’s face went white. "I only went to the bank for my mum,"

he replied shakily.

"Come and see me in the basement at 5.15," Brian ordered. "It’s the cane for you."

"Yes, Mason," Mike said. I thought he was going to start crying. He played with his food for a moment then hurriedly left the table.

"I bet I get a few howls out of that one," Brian laughed.

I looked away. It wasn’t so much that I was sorry for Mike. He deserved what he was going to get. It was Mason’s attitude I couldn’t stand. He obviously revelled in his new role.

Two days later it was Thursday. I brought in my gym kit. At inspection we had to lay our stuff out to show it was all there. Boys got told off for dirty or unpressed clothes. One had forgotten his towel. Mr Baxter told him to see Mason at 3.30 in the basement. Luckily I passed the inspection without comment.

Near midday I was walking through the main hall with a file for Mr Findlay. There were lots of other staff about. Mason was coming towards me. I moved aside to let him past. As he came up to me he suddenly stopped.

"What did you call me?" he said loud enough for everyone else to hear. It went very quiet.

"I didn’t say anything, Mason," I stammered. I was shocked. I really hadn’t said anything.

"Don’t you dare lie to me," he snapped. "You swore at me. I’ll see you in the basement at 3.30."

Before I could reply he was off. Everyone was looking at me. I went bright red. I went slowly back to the office, my mind in turmoil. He’d framed me; in front of loads of others. Even before I reached the office I realised there was nothing I could do. It was his word against mine. I knew only too well who would be believed.

At 3.20 I went to Mr Findlay’s desk.

"Please sir, I’ve got to see Mason at 3.30."

He looked up at me grimly. "Yes, I heard about your little altercation. Serve you right. Off you go."

"Sir, I didn’t do it. I swear," I pleaded, close to tears.

"Can you prove that?" he asked.

"No sir, but I didn’t. He framed me."

"Jay, it’s going to do you no good to make allegations you can’t prove. Now you’d better be off or you’ll be late."

With a heavy heart I made my way down to the basement. The Town Hall was an old building. The basement was a gloomy, cobwebbed place, with a dank, concrete floor. It was mainly used for storage. It was sectioned off into bays by brick partitions. During the war some of the bays had been converted into offices. They weren’t used now. Only the shells remained. Mason had set up his lair in one of these. It was halfway along a row of similar shells. The only thing to recommend it was that it was directly beneath one of the few overhead lights. I went over to it. The other boy, David, was already there. Mason had not yet put in an appearance.

I felt sorry for David. He was sixteen. He had only been with the Council a few weeks. He was a nice looking boy, with short fair hair and a snub nose. He was sniffling as I approached but managed to control himself. We stood in silence together for a while. When Mason didn’t show we started whispering to each other. We hadn’t got much further than saying hello when Mason suddenly appeared from around the corner.

"Talking were you?" he snarled. "Well that’s just earned you two extra."

I could have killed him. He had obviously been hiding, waiting for us to start chatting. He’d got us. There was nothing we could do about it.

David was summoned into the office. I was left to cool my heels outside. There was no door to the place. I could hear everything that was going on. Poor David was given a good roasting. Then he was told to go over to the horse. What, I wondered, was the horse? I shrugged my shoulders. I’d soon find out. To my horror I heard Mason tell David to take his trousers down. There was the rustle of cloth as he complied. His pants followed. He was told to bend over the horse with his legs apart. He got five with the strap. I winced as each one landed. He started howling after the third. Then it was over. He had to sign the punishment book. He was told to go. He came out fast and streaked past me. He was crying.

There was a long pause. The bastard was making me wait for it. I shivered with fear. Eventually he called out "Jay."

I went in. The dingy office was sparsely furnished. There was a chair, a table and, in one corner, an old sawhorse. It had been covered with a couple of blankets. Mason was holding up one of the blankets. There was a damp patch on it.

"Look," he smirked, "The little rabbit wet the blanket with his tears. I wonder if you will?"

I didn’t say anything. There was no point. He came up to me.

"I hate you, you little creep," he started. "You come in with your damn A levels and think you rule the world. Well you don’t. I’m going to make your life a misery from now on. I can’t whack you every week but I bet I can do it at least twice a month. I reckon I can get Baxter on you as well. He loves the inspection parades. He’s aching to send boys to me. I just have to tell him what sort of boy you are and he’ll be down your rotten throat."

I remained silent. I knew there was nothing I could say that would change his mind. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of begging. Not yet anyway. I think he realised that. He went over to the table. On it was a strap and a cane. He picked up the strap.

"Only the strap this time, sonny," he gloated. "But don’t worry. You’ll get the cane soon enough. Now, go over to the horse."

I reluctantly went over to the corner and stood by the horse. It was about waist high. Mason came up behind me.

"Right, Mr high and mighty Jay, let’s see how you look with your trousers down."

I wanted to turn round and hit him. I wanted to scream abuse. I wanted out. But I remembered the words of the slip - `Boys who refuse punishment will be dismissed.’ I sighed heavily. Then I unfastened my trousers and let them fall. He made me take them right down.

"Now your pants."

I gripped the edge of my pants and slipped them down. They fell to my ankles.

"Over the horse."

I bent over. Near the base of the thing was a strut between the legs. I held on to it. He lifted my jacket and shirt clear of my backside. I had to get my legs further apart and straighten my knees. When he was satisfied the strap came to rest on my bare bottom. Then he paused.

"My, my, who’s been a naughty boy then?"

I knew he was looking at the marks the tawse had inflicted a week ago. I stayed silent.

"Well I’m giving you six for swearing at me, even though we both know you didn’t - they’re really for being such an arrogant little bastard - and two for talking."

The strap lifted away. It came back with a mighty crack. It seared right across both cheeks. It was agony. I yelped with pain and shock. I knew I couldn’t take seven more. The second one whipped in. It got me lower down. I managed not to move or yell. The third was more on the left. I couldn’t repress a shiver of pain. The fourth made me shake like a leaf. I let out a low moan.

"Getting to you am I, creep," he laughed. "Well you’ve got four more to come."

By a major effort I managed to take the fifth. I even took the sixth; although by now I was bouncing up and down on my toes. But the seventh was too much. Again he got me dead centre, across both cheeks. I nearly jumped up. Only the knowledge that he’d love to give me a couple more kept me down. But I couldn’t stop a howl of pain. I wriggled and writhed with it. To my shame tears started to flow. The eighth was the worst of all. Another direct hit. Once more I howled in agony. By now I was really crying, not just with the pain and humiliation but also at the unfairness of it all.

He made me stay down for a while. Then I was allowed to stand. I could see him sneering while I sobbed. I didn’t care. Somehow, someday I vowed I would have my revenge. I had to sign the punishment book. A blotch showed my tears. At last I was free to go.

"See you next week, you crybaby," was his parting shot.

The P.E. at the school was as bad as I had thought it would be. Silly exercises, running, team games; just like I remembered. I hated it. The showers after were worse. Mason supervised them. All the boys who had been whacked had to stand at one end and show the others their bums. Afterwards Pete and Josh tried to be nice. I shrugged them off. Six more months of this; I couldn’t stand six more days.

At home the local paper had been delivered. I avidly scanned it for jobs. As soon as anything halfway decent came up I would apply. As I was finishing going through it Mr Foster came in. He asked what I was doing. I told him. He took me by the shoulders.

"Jay, you can’t give up so easily," he said quietly. "If things are as you say they are then you’re letting him win. Do you want that?"

"No sir," I sniffed, " But he’s going to do it nearly every week. He as good as told me I’m to get the cane soon. He’ll just make up some excuse or frame me like he did today."

"Then you must think of a way to stop him," Mr Foster replied. "Giving up now is no answer. You’ve got to face your problems and deal with them."

"But how sir?" I cried in exasperation. "I told Mr Findlay. He doesn’t believe me. He said he needed proof."

"Well get him the proof then," Mr Foster said kindly. "If you think about it you should find a way."

Thursday week was gym day again. Before I left for work I carefully checked I had everything - shirt, shorts, socks and gym shoes plus a towel. I reluctantly walked up to the Town Hall. I no longer looked forward to going to work. At any time disaster could strike. Mr Findlay had commented on my new attitude. I didn’t care. I hated the place now.

I got there early. I put my sports bag down and drifted around, chatting to a few guys. Then it was time to get in line. I picked my bag up and went to the second rank. Mr Baxter appeared. As usual we had to lay our kit out for inspection. I started to then stopped in horror. My shorts were gone. I could have sworn I put them in. I remembered picking them up and placing them in the bag. I looked around. One of Mason’s cronies was sniggering. Mr Baxter came up.

"What, no shorts?" he snapped. "You going to run about with it all hanging out then?"

"No, sir" I stuttered, "I had them sir, I swear I had them."

"Well you won’t need shorts when you see Mason at 3.30 will you?"

"No sir," I sighed. I knew in that moment I’d been set up again. But how could I prove it?

After the parade Mason came up, a big grin across his face.

"If you cried for the strap, you’re really going to love the cane," he taunted me. "Six, I think. Don’t be late or I might have to make it more."

He looked round. There was no one in earshot. "On the other hand I can just say you were late and give you another two anyway. So long creep. See you at 3.30."

I racked my brain. How could I prove I was being set up. Then I found the answer. Mason had shown me it himself. I went to see Mr Findlay.

"Sir, I’m to have the cane at 3.30," I started. "For not bringing my shorts to work. But I swear they were in my bag. Someone must have taken them out. I’ve been set up again."

He looked at me wearily, sucking on his pipe. "Well, what do you expect me to do about it?" he asked.

"If you went down to the basement at 3.15 and hid in one of the old offices you’d hear everything," I suggested. " Last time he boasted about how I was going to get it at least twice a month. He’s bound to have another go. Then we’d have him."

"I’ll think about it," he sighed. "Now get on with your work."

The day dragged by. Would he help me? If not I was really for it. I avoided lunch. Mason would only crack jokes at my expense. He’d already made comments about `wetting the blanket.’ I just went for a walk in the park. I had no appetite anyway.

3.00 came. Mr Findlay lit another pipe. He sat there puffing contentedly, reading through a file and making painstaking notes. He wasn’t going. I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone as much as I hated him then. At 3.15 he was still puffing away. That was it. I’d have to take this caning. Maybe there would be more. But as soon as I could find a decent job I was gone. I didn’t care what Mr Foster might think. At 3.20 I got up to go to the basement. Mr Findlay looked up at me. I shot him a furious glare. I didn’t ask for permission to go, I just went. He looked away. The next time he started on about planning I’d tell him I wasn’t interested. He could get stuffed.

I went to the loo then made my way downstairs. I arrived outside Mason’s little office with time to spare. He hadn’t shown up yet. As far as I knew I was the only boy to be punished today, so he wouldn’t be in hiding. I shivered with fear. Eight with the cane. I’d howl for that alright.

A few minutes later he sauntered up. He disappeared into the office. I just stood outside trembling. After what seemed an age he called me in.

He was standing to one side of the room, flexing a cane in both hands. But it wasn’t the cane that got my attention. Over the top of the horse were a pair of shorts. My shorts.

"You think you’re so clever," he sneered. "But while you were chatting this morning it was easy to take them out of your bag without anyone seeing. I just got a couple of guys to stand between me and the rest of you."

I couldn’t help myself. "You bastard. I’ll get you for this."

He just laughed. "Sure you will. You can’t fight me because it would end up down here again. No one will believe you. Why would I do such a thing? No Jay, me and my cane are going to get well acquainted with your bottom over the next six months. Why not resign now and save yourself a lot of pain?"

A great weight settled over my heart. I knew he was right. Mr Findlay had abandoned me. There was no one else I could turn to. Yet from somewhere I found courage.

"Get lost you useless prat. If you were any good you wouldn’t need to get rid of me this way."

"Well, well," he gloated, "The creep still has fight in him. I bet it doesn’t last. By the way you were late. That makes it eight in all. Over the horse with you."

I glared at him. I clenched my fists. But it was no use. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. I went slowly over to the horse and bent over it.

"Excuse me," he said cheerfully, " Aren’t we forgetting something?"

I stood up again. I knew what he wanted. Without any emotion I took my trousers and pants down. Then I bent over again. I just felt numb. The cane tapped my bare bottom. There was a pause. He came up and pushed my shirt back to my shoulders.

Once more the cane went tap tap on me. Then it lifted away. It whopped back to get me high up. It really hurt. A line of fire sprang up where it landed. I shivered with the pain but managed not to yell. The second was a better shot. It got me dead centre, where the marks of the strap could still be seen. I gasped and wriggled. He let the cane stay on me; rubbing it up and down my cheeks. Then it lifted away again.

Suddenly there were footsteps. A voice I didn’t know said,

"That’ll be enough of that, Mason."

I didn’t know what to do. I stayed where I was, my bottom throbbing with pain.

Then another voice said, "Alright, Jay, you can get up."

I straightened up. I turned round. It was Mr Lewis, the senior planner. With him was Mr Wainwright the head of Mason’s section. Mason was just standing there with his mouth open, the cane hanging forlornly in his hand. With a start I realised the two men could see everything. I hastily pulled up my clothes and gave my bottom a quick rub. Mr Wainwright led Mason away. I never saw him again.

"I’m sorry, about that Jay," Mr Lewis said, "But we had to let him get started. Otherwise he might have said it was just a joke."

"What’ll happen to him, sir?" I asked.

"If he goes quietly he’ll just be sacked without a reference. Otherwise it will become a police matter. I doubt it will get that far."

He let me go home. I worked out that Mr Findlay must have gone to see them. He had come through for me after all. I stopped off at a shop and got him a packet of his favourite tobacco. At supper I told Mr Foster what had happened. I was feeling really good, if a little sore. With any luck things would change at work now.

That evening, as I was getting ready for bed, Mr Foster came into my room. It was the first time he had done so since he’d had me.

"Jay," he said slowly, "I wouldn’t be too quick to tell the others that it was your plan. Just let it lie."

I saw the obvious good sense in that, "Yes, sir," I agreed.

"Were you badly hurt?" he asked,

"Not really, sir,"

"Still, I’d better make sure," he smiled.

I grinned at him and dropped my pyjama trousers. He bent me over the bed and rubbed his hand over my bottom. A finger traced the welts left by the cane. Then he gave me a good smack and stood me up again. He could see I was hard. He took a long look and told me to get into bed. As I bent to pull my pyjamas up another light slap landed. I scuttled between the sheets before he decided a few more were called for. He ruffled my hair and left, turning the light out. I snuggled down. Things were looking better all round.

The next day at work the deputy town clerk was at the parade. He just said that Mason had been sacked. The parades were cancelled. He got a big cheer for that. However, he went on, the gym sessions would stay. We would still be subject to corporal punishment, but now it would be given by Mr Edwards from Leisure and Recreation. He could only do it if we had a note signed by one of our bosses. I left that parade a happy young man. I had never been in any real trouble here so it was unlikely I’d come to Mr Edwards’ attention. I’d never get spanked at work again.

Ah, well. Unfortunately it didn’t quite turn out that way.

Jay Bee