Jay's Friday Night

                      Author : Jay Bee JBates3327@aol.com

Friday nights were scout nights. I changed slowly into my uniform. I’d had a really good day at work. I was in the planning department of the local council as a filing clerk. Two weeks ago I’d been sent undercover to investigate a local school. I should have known I’d get into trouble there. The marks of the thrashing I received had only just faded from my bottom. But I found out what they were doing. My boss, Mr Lewis, was preparing a prosecution. Today I finalised my statement.

I also received my reward. The union had said I had been at work all the time I was at the school. I got two days’ extra pay and three days’ off. Not only that. Before I went to the school Mr Arnold, the Town Clerk, had made me an authorised planning officer. I was really proud of my warrant card. There can’t have been many eighteen year old council officers in 1963. Once I was back I had been frightened that they’d take it off me. Today Mr Lewis had told me to keep the card. I’d need it for the court case. However I received a stern warning about its misuse.

To cap it all I had heard about my course. I was to do a diploma in Town Planning. The local college didn’t do that sort of thing so it would be a correspondence course. In addition the Council would pay for me. I was really pleased about that.

So I was in a good mood as I changed. As usual I admired my smooth, firm body in the mirror. Although I was beginning to feel that I’d never grow taller than five foot eight I didn’t mind. All the exercise I did kept me trim and neat. I got into my shirt and shorts and adjusted my scarf to the correct position. I pulled on the knee high socks and made sure my shoes were gleaming before wearing them. Mr MacKenzie, the Group Scout Leader, put a lot of emphasis on personal appearance. As the senior, senior scout I had to set an example. Finally I brushed my dark brown hair, checked my teeth and nails were clean and went downstairs.

"Jay," Mrs Davies, the housekeeper, called from the kitchen where she was washing up. I went in.

"I’m sorry Jay but there’ll be no cake and hot chocolate tonight when you get home. One of my friends is having a little party. I don’t expect to be back until 10.30 at the earliest."

"OK miss," I grinned. "Have a good time. Don’t get drunk."

I turned and left. I should have moved faster. Her wooden spoon got the left cheek of my bottom. Even over shorts and pants it stung. I let out a little yelp of shock.

"That’ll teach you to be cheeky," she laughed.

Ruefully rubbing my behind I went into the living room to say goodbye to Mr Foster my landlord. He saw what I was doing and grinned.

"One of these days you’ll learn not to give Mrs Davies any sauce when there’s a wooden spoon within reach."

"One of these days," I agreed. "I’m off sir."

"Alright Jay, have a good time. Be back by nine fifteen. And take your raincoat. Those clouds mean business."

After the opening parade and inspection at the school where we met I took the senior scouts to an upstairs classroom. All the main leaders were having a meeting. They were not to be disturbed. The assistant leaders were running things tonight. For the seniors that meant me. We had been tasked to raise £100 for the Group before Christmas. We settled down to discuss ways and means.

My first idea of a sponsored canoeing event met with jeers. The trouble was that the make up of the seniors had changed. There were now only three of us who were really keen canoeists. Luckily some of the older scouts were interested so we could usually get a team for competitions.

Other ideas were raised. Someone suggested a post Christmas party in January. The more we talked about it the better it looked. We’d get Mr MacKenzie to extend our deadline. All we needed was a hundred people paying £2 each or a posher event for fifty paying £4 to £5 each. We were settling on the upmarket version when there was a knock on the door. I yelled at whoever it was to come in. A sixer, a senior cub, appeared.

"Please Jay, Miss Wilson would like you to come to the hall," he said firmly.

There was a hush. Part of my job was to discipline errant scouts and cubs if Mr MacKenzie was absent. I sighed and got up. I’d get no thanks from him for disturbing the meeting. He’d just tell me to get on with it. Reluctantly I followed the boy down to the main hall.

Before I got there I could hear the cubs laughing and chattering. When I entered they went quiet. They were sitting in groups playing a game with map reading cards. Fearful eyes looked up to me then went back to the game. Only now the game was conducted in whispers. If a boy thought I wasn’t looking an apprehensive glance would be sent my way. I was the senior with power to spank them.

Standing by the wall bars was Miss Wilson, Jean, the assistant cub mistress. She was only about twenty five. She had long brown hair and a lovely smile. If I had been interested in girls I might have been tempted. Next to her was a tearful cub. Another cub stood in a corner. When I came in he glanced round, shuddered and hastily stood to rigid attention; his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. I ignored him for the time being and went over to Jean.

"Hello Jay," she smiled. "I’m afraid there’s been some trouble. Michael here was pushed against the wall bars by David. He hurt his head but not badly."

I looked closely at Michael. He was fair haired boy of about ten with a slim, well defined body. He’d stopped crying now. There was a graze where his forehead had been in contact with the metal. It was nothing much. As I examined him I noticed a funny look in his blue eyes. Almost one of satisfaction.

"Why did David push you?" I asked him sternly.

"I don’t know, honestly Jay. He just did."

"If you lie to me you’ll wish you hadn’t. One last chance. Why did David push you?"

His face fell. He knew I meant business. Tears began to form in his eyes again.

"I only said he smelt of cats’ pee," he sniffed. "He does. His mum keeps five of them. He smells all the time."

I looked hopelessly at Jean. "I haven’t noticed," she frowned.

"David," I called, "Come here."

There was a deathly hush in the room. The games faltered. David walked slowly towards me as if going to the gallows. He too had been crying. He was a short, dark haired boy of about Michael’s age. His pale face was set off by wide, staring brown eyes and dark eyebrows.

"Right," I said, " Why did you push Michael?"

"Because he was rude about my mum. He said she smells. He’s not the only one who has a go. Just ‘cos mum likes cats. They’re OK."

"I didn’t Jay, I didn’t," Michael sobbed. "I never said about his mum."

"Even if I accept that, you insulted him didn’t you?"

"Yes Jay."

"Alright," I announced, raising my voice so that the whole hall could hear. "Boys who provoke trouble are just as bad as the boys who react to it. You can both come with me to the changing room."

There were gasps from one or two of the groups. Michael turned white, he knew what he was in for. David looked more determined but even so began to shiver. They both gazed at me pleadingly. I ignored them.

"Go on," I ordered, pointing to the door.

They didn’t want to but they knew they must. Heads down they began the long walk to the changing room and an appointment with a gym shoe. I made a face at Jean. She just punched me lightly on the shoulder.

"Don’t be too hard on them Jay. But for what it’s worth I think David was telling the truth. Michael’s got a habit of being nasty. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he’d said something about David’s mum."

I sighed and followed the two woeful boys out of the hall. I couldn’t help noticing their bottoms. Soon the unmarked white backsides under those shorts would be a different colour.

The changing room was a long, dimly lit, place with rows of lockers on either side. At the far end was a table. I motioned the boys to it. As usual underneath it was clothing that their owners had left behind. There were four gym shoes. I picked up a reasonably large one. I wiped the sole with my hand to remove any grit. My actions were observed by two fearful pairs of eyes. I sent Michael to stand facing the wall where I could watch him. David stood trembling in front of me.

"Even if you were provoked you shouldn’t have pushed him should you?"

"No Jay, but he was rude about my mum."

"You still shouldn’t have pushed him."

"No Jay, I’m sorry Jay."

"Four."

"Yes Jay," he whispered, his lip trembling.

"Is there anything you’d like to say to me before I punish you?"

His eyes flashed defiantly. "I know you have to spank me. But I won’t have people being rude about mum."

I felt sorry for him. In his place I’d probably have done the same thing.

"Have you talked to her about this?"

"No Jay, it would only upset her."

"Well I’m sorry David, but you have to be taught not to get into fights. Take your shorts and pants down please."

The defiance faded. He hesitantly turned to the table and lowered his shorts.

" Right down"

He pushed the shorts down to his ankles. The pants followed. His slim, well defined bottom emerged. He was trembling with fear. For a boy of his age four with a gym shoe was about enough.

"Bend over the table," I ordered.

Slowly, fearfully, he bent over. I told him to get his legs further apart and to straighten his knees. He hastily complied. I pushed his shirt up. Then I stepped back. His bare, shivering bottom was at my disposal.

I let the sole of the shoe rest on him for a moment. Then I drew my arm back and let him have a crisp whack. It was a good one, directly across both cheeks. He yelped and bounced up and down on his toes. The second landed more on his right cheek. He gasped and shivered. His hands moved as if to come to the aid of his burning bottom but stayed where they were. I moved my position a bit then brought the shoe firmly down on his left buttock. He shivered again and wriggled a bit but otherwise stayed quiet. The fourth was the last so had to be a good one. I drew my arm back further and let him have a scorcher. It got him dead centre across both cheeks. He couldn’t hold back a howl of pain. He writhed on the table and started to cry.

"You can get up and get dressed," I said softly.

He dressed quickly, still sobbing. His hands were at work rubbing the pain away. He looked me in the eye.

"Thank you Jay," he sobbed. "I’m sorry."

"Alright, David. Go back to the hall."

He left almost running. I guessed there would be a quick trip to the loos to wash away the tears and look at his bum before he went back. I turned to Michael who was shivering against the wall.

"Come here," I told him.

He came to stand in front of me, shaking like a leaf.

"Please Jay, I’m sorry. Please don’t spank me."

"Six."

"Six!!" he wailed. "That’s not fair. You only gave Dave four and he pushed me."

"You started it. Boys who start trouble get more."

"But Jay......"

"Take your shorts and pants down and bend over the table."

"Please Jay."

"Now!"

He looked at me pleadingly. I pointed to the table. He didn’t move. I whacked the sole of the shoe against the palm of my hand. He gasped with fear. Then, ashen faced, he turned slowly and went to the table. He fumbled with his shorts. They slipped clear of his waist and fell to his feet. He half turned to me again. I gave my palm another light whack. He quickly faced his front and dropped his pants. He leaned slowly forward over the table and gripped the far side with his hands; straightening his knees and pushing his legs further apart. He squirmed about a bit trying to get comfortable then stilled. I could hear his frightened breathing.

I approached him and lifted his shirt clear. His bare bottom gleamed in the overhead light. I stepped to the side, tightened my grip on the shoe and brought it down hard on those round cheeks. It made a loud crack as it landed. He howled straight away and started to cry. The second was just as hard. It really hurt him. He shot up, his hands flying to his poor bottom.

"Please Jay, please Jay," he sobbed.

I pushed him down. He subsided in tears, his body sagging against the wooden table. I let him have a third one. It was another direct hit across both cheeks. Once more he howled and started to jiggle up and down on his toes. I took a quick look at his bottom. It was going bright red. I let him have the next one lower down, almost on his thighs. He managed to take that one although he gasped and shuddered. The fifth finished him. Again it landed across both cheeks of his already burning backside. He couldn’t take it. Once more he shot up, screaming and crying. I let him stay up for a minute as he frantically rubbed the pain away.

"One more, get back down."

"Oh Jay, please Jay. I’ll never do it again. I promise."

"If you’re not down in five seconds it’ll be two more."

He gasped then nearly flung himself across that table. I waited until he settled. Then gave him a really good one. It went slightly high but again landed across both cheeks. He howled his sorrow to the skies. He shot up and did a little dance, sobbing and gasping with pain. I let him alone until the tears began to fade then told him to get dressed.

"Now, would you like another dose of that?" I asked him once he was decent.

"Oh no Jay, please no."

"Then I suggest you think twice before making nasty remarks."

"Yes Jay. Thank you Jay."

I took him back to the hall and told Jean what I’d done. I made sure the whole room could hear me. Then I went back to the seniors. I doubted there’d be any more trouble from the cubs this evening.

* * * *

It was raining as I left the school. I hurried home. I dashed up the garden path, glad of the shelter of the porch. Once inside I kicked my shoes off; Mrs Davies wouldn’t thank me for traipsing wet and muddy footprints over the carpet. I hung my raincoat up and went to see Mr Foster. He wasn’t in the living room so I went to the study. The light was on. Repressing a slight shiver, I knocked on the door. He told me to come in.

"I’m back sir," I said sticking my head round the door. He’d lit the fire. The room was nice and cosy, with the curtains drawn and just the desk lamp on.

"Come on in Jay and help yourself to a sherry. You can get one for me while you’re about it."

I entered and closed the door to keep in the warmth. The sherry was kept in the sideboard. I got two glasses and poured good measures. Then I took a glass over to him.

"Thanks Jay. Just let me finish this. I won’t be long."

I got my own glass and went and stood by the fire. Its heat was comforting to my chilled, bare legs. I sipped my sherry and looked around. I had never really taken much note of the study before. I only entered it either to give him my monthly rent cheque or for punishment. I wondered what David and Michael would think if they knew how often these walls had rung to my howls of pain. I shuddered.

There was a bookcase to one corner. With my glass in my hand I wandered over. There were quite a few books on English literature together with a number of classics. Lower down were some cricketing books; biographies of players, accounts of Test Matches, that sort of thing. They held no interest for me. He had a few novels, a bible and two or three books on birds. There were also some larger art books on the bottom shelf. I looked at the artists names on the spines. One held pictures by someone called Tuke.

I moved back to the fire. Above it, on the mantelpiece, were four photographs. One was a picture of a school football team, sitting stiffly on a row of chairs with a younger Mr Foster in the middle. It was headed `Starbrook House XI 1954.’ It must have been Mr Foster’s house at the school where he worked. I looked closer at the picture. I would bet anything that at least one of those boys was sitting down carefully.

I was so engrossed in the picture I didn’t hear him come up behind me. He put his hand on my shoulder. I nearly jumped with shock. He was much taller than me. I had to look up at him. Even though he was in his fifties he was still slim. I thought his graying hair made him look distinguished. His face was lined and his eyebrows could be quick to draw together in a disapproving frown. Yet I liked him a lot.

"Don’t spill your sherry," he grinned. "Bring that chair up to the fire will you."

I brought a straight backed chair up to the fireplace. He got the chair from behind his desk. We sat in silence for a while, savouring the sweet sherry, and gazing into the flames.

"Jay," he said eventually, "I’ve been thinking about what you said a few weeks ago. You know. After I spanked you and Tim."

I shuddered and looked over to the armchair. About a month ago I had been bent, bare bottomed, along one arm rest while my friend Tim adorned the other. We got six with the tawse and three with the cane for fighting. Afterwards I got another four with the tawse for not having the sense to go to Mr Foster with my problems. The second spanking had released something inside me. I told him how much I wanted him; how much I had enjoyed the two times he’d taken me. He’d been nice but said he needed more time. He still felt that having sex with me was wrong.

I looked at him anxiously. He sensed my worry and reached out and patted my bare thigh.

"I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve been foolish," he began. "I want to have you. You want to be had. It seems to me we only live once. We might as well enjoy ourselves from time to time."

I nearly jumped up and shouted in triumph. This was what I had dreamed of. I loved being in his arms, feeling his warm body against me. I would do anything for him. He had been so good to me. Even when he was spanking me I never resented him. And now he was saying we could be together more often. A feeling of happiness overwhelmed me. I had to brush away a tear.

"Oh yes, sir! Oh yes!" I exclaimed.

"Not very often Jay," he smiled, obviously pleased with my enthusiasm, " I don’t want to upset Mrs Davies. But when we can."

"She’s out tonight sir," I grinned.

"So she is."

He put his sherry glass down. I copied him. He got up and raised me to my feet. I got a lovely warm hug that went on for minutes. I just felt so safe and happy in those strong arms. I could have stayed like that for ever. In the end though he pulled away a bit. Holding me at arms length, he planted a firm kiss on my forehead and another on my nose. He pushed me gently and I moved away from the chairs.

His hands came to my scarf. It was lifted over my head and placed on a chair. My shirt was next. He slowly, gently, undid all the buttons one by one and pulled it out from my shorts. Then he took it off me to join the scarf. There was a pause. His hands moved up and down my bare chest and back. He squeezed one of my nipples. I was rock hard by now and seemed to be getting harder yet.

But he was in no hurry. The evening was ours. Once more I was enveloped in a warm embrace. I slipped my arms under his and clung to him tightly. Kisses descended on my head. In the darkness of his chest, greatly daring, I returned a kiss to his neck. He sighed and patted my back. His hands rubbed up and down it. Unfortunately they encountered an obstacle. My shorts.

An exploring hand came round to my front. It came up against my rock hard cock. A finger traced its outline then moved higher. It found my belt, unfastened it and let it dangle loosely. My buttons were undone. My shorts began to move. A swift push helped them on the way. They dropped to my feet and I stepped out of them.

I yearned for him to take my pants down as well. But he wouldn’t. I think he knew what I wanted because he grinned knowingly at me. He kept on rubbing his hands all over my willing body. Every now and then he’d pluck at the pants but always left them where they were. In the end he got what he was after.

"Sir, please sir," I moaned.

"What?" he smiled.

"Please! Please!!"

"Jay, normally when you say that you want me to stop. Do you want me to stop?"

"Oh no sir, don’t stop," I gasped. "Whatever you do don’t stop."

He smiled again and crushed me to him. Then his fingers gripped the hem of my pants. They tugged. The treacherous things resisted. Then they came loose. He had to lift my hardened cock away before they fell. I kicked them onto the shorts. Reaching down I swiftly stripped my socks off. I was naked. I was his.

He turned me round slightly, one hand still loosely gripping my cock. It was given a close examination. He lifted it up and felt around my balls. He gave them a squeeze that drew a moan of pleasure from me. I loved the cool feel of his hand on my hot shaft. He ran it up to the circumcised tip and squeezed that as well. Slowly, gently, he began to pull. By now I was moaning with pleasure.

"Oh sir, oh sir!" I kept repeating.

He drew me closer to him and pulled me so my bottom was hard against his groin. I could feel him move. But I soon forgot that. His gentle strokes increased. I was lost in it. I shut my eyes. All I could feel now was the warmth of his body, his firm, cool hand stroking my hardened shaft and the ever growing desire deep inside me. I yearned for him to speed up. I writhed and wriggled against him. But he just kept the same steady beat. It seemed to go on forever. Me gasping, jerking and moaning while he held me close and gave me so much joy.

The pressure inside me grew and grew. Suddenly there was a difference, it was if I had changed gear.

"I’m coming sir," I squeaked.

He turned me to one side a little and then gave me a few rapid pumps. It was more than enough. I arched my back against him. For a moment I thought my aching cock would burst. Then with a rush I came, my spunk flying out over the room. It felt white hot. I squealed with pleasure and collapsed into his arms, puffing and panting. I knew he was in command but at that moment I didn’t care. I reached up and kissed him hard on the lips.

"Thank you sir. Oh thank you sir."

He smiled and pushed me away a bit. With his own handkerchief he wiped my dripping cock clean. He fondled the tip for a while, slowly squeezing the last drops out. I folded up against him and let him do what he wanted. At last he put the handkerchief away and patted my bottom.

"My turn," he grinned.

I smiled back at him. I didn’t say a word. I was his boy and he knew it.

A hand gripped the back of my neck like you would a puppy. I was gently propelled towards the desk. I stumbled a little. A firm swat on my bottom ensued. It stung. He gave it a little rub to ease the string. His hand stayed there, fondling my bum as we moved to the desk. I thought he’d take me to the front of it. But no, I was brought to the side where he usually sat. A towel was produced to pad the hard wood. Then I was bent over. I suddenly realised he’d planned this. It wasn’t my idea at all.

I nestled up against the towel and made myself comfy. He took his time. He rubbed his hands all over me; soothing, caressing, exploring. But more and more they returned to my bare bottom. Moving to the commands issued by his firm fingers I opened my legs wider. Reaching forward I took a steady hold on the desk and raised myself up. A finger came to rest on my ring. It entered the hole. I wriggled a bit then settled down again. The finger withdrew.

There was the sound of a desk drawer being opened. I stiffened with fear. The tawse was kept in the desk. He wouldn’t!

He didn’t. Instead of cold leather against my backside I felt cool ointment. He oiled the inside of my bottom thoroughly. It hurt a little but not for long; after all this wasn’t my first time. Then he moved away. I heard the rustle of clothing being removed. I longed to look at him. But I knew he didn’t want me to. I don’t know why. But I was his boy. It wasn’t for me to take liberties.

He came back. I could almost feel him standing behind me. His presence was a palpable thing. His hands caressed my hips. One slipped away. I felt him guiding his rigid member up between my legs. It prodded at my hole. I moved my legs wider to let it in. Both hands now firmly grasped my hips. I felt him move back slightly. Then with a jolt he pushed forward. He entered me. It was a little difficult at the start but soon he was driving up inside me. Despite the towel padding I was pushed hard against the desk. The discomfort meant nothing. I was silently urging him on. One more thrust. Then I felt the gentle tapping of his balls beneath me. He was in.

Slowly he began to move inside me. A delicious sense of pleasure flooded through me. He gasped and panted. I could feel his breath on my back. His movement grew faster. His hands at my hips were slippery with sweat. Suddenly the strokes became frenzied. With an incoherent cry he came inside me and collapsed on my back.

He lay there panting for a moment then raised himself up. He kissed the back of my neck and slipped out of me. I stayed where I was. I could only get up when he told me to. I was glad to stay down anyway. I felt weak with joy. I heard him moving about getting dressed. Once more his hand stroked my bottom. A damp cloth wiped away the mess.

"That was great Jay," he said. "There’s only one more thing for me to do now."

His hand rested on me then lifted away. It came back with a firm smack. I yelped

"What was that for sir?" I cried.

"Just to remind you who’s boss around here."

"You are sir. You are," I said fervently.

"Good boy. You can get up now."

I rose. He came and hugged me close once more. Then he pulled away. He looked me over and motioned me to get dressed. I put my shorts on and bundled the rest of the clothing up.

"Thank you sir," I smiled. "Please don’t make it so long before the next time."

He gave me a mock frown. "Bed, you little harlot, before I remember where I keep the canes."

"I’m going, I’m going," I grinned and went to the door.

I opened it and looked back at him. He was standing by the fire. He looked so handsome, so wonderful. A wave of emotion washed over me.

"Sir," I said softly, "I love you sir."

Jay Bee

June 17 1998