Long live the King


This is a dark tale and not one for the feint hearted. All persons depicted are fictional and not intended to represent etc… and no slight is intended to the noble English county of Norfolk.

The Norfolk Fens are strange lands on the margins of Eastern England. It is said that here dwells the last of the ancient Iceni and Trinovantes, who have lived in these lands since before the Roman’s came. The people here have their own customs and traditions, usually hidden from the eyes of outsiders.

In times not so long past, so recent in fact that some say they still endure, tribal customs still held sway and the hidden tribes still elect their kings.

It was perhaps these tales that brought the two cub reporters all the way from London to Bembury. The Fens had been alive with the news but few knew where the girls were being kept.

Jake Adamson was one of these.

“What are you going to do about those girls?” Kate asked matter-of-factly as she brushed her husband’s jacket.

“Me? What has it to do with me?” Jake glowered at his wife.

“Jake, you know Parsons will kill them.”

Jake knew Kate was right and he did not like it one bit.

“They should not have been poking their noses in our business. Matthew Parsons reckons they’ll bring the law on us…”

“But to kill them.” Kate gaped.

“Plenty go missing in the marshes.” That was true, but it didn’t make it right.

The girls had got wind of the car-stealing ring that Matthew Parsons operated from the back of his pub. The local law knew well enough about it, but also knew better than to look into it too hard. But London journalists meant London law and more outsiders taking an interest.

In times past, the king would rule on it. But it had been 15 years since old John Able had passed on and no one had stepped up to replace him.

It was times like this that Jake missed his old gaffer. Jake had been John Able’s top man and enforcer. He was still the top man; none of the young guns dared cross him. But elders like Mathew Parson were another matter. They had their own men, their own rules and in the absence of the king there was none to gainsay them.

“I’ll look in on Matthew and see if we can’t work something out.” It was a hollow gesture, Jake knew, but it was all he could say.


The car park was dark when he arrived. It was well past time and most of the regulars had either gone home or on to the Bembury club, as Jake was going to.

Fixer was on guard duty at the back, but he passed Jake without a word.

The girls were being held in the cellar. Both had been crying and looked up with pathetic hope in their eyes as he entered.

The lower half of their clothing had been removed and both girls were bent double over empty beer barrels. Their arses were red raw from a prolonged dose of the strap and Jake reckoned that it would be days before they would walk straight, let alone sit down. Still, Kate and his daughters had taken worse when they had crossed him. Maybe Matthew had seen sense and was just teaching them a lesson before letting them go, else why else thrash them so.

“Any more with that and they won’t be fit to sit their prissy little backsides on their car seats for the journey back to London.” Jake nodded at the strap in Matthew’s hands as he spoke.

“That is the least of their worries.”

Matthew leered at this and lay two more strokes on the nearest girl’s bottom. She howled out and let forth with fresh tears.

“Please let us go. We won’t talk.” The first girl was desperate.

“We can’t talk. We don’t know anything.” The second girl sounded frantic.

Jake could see that they were no older than his own daughters. This bastard didn’t need to do this. Not if he meant to get rid of them anyway.

“Help us, please help us.” The first girl sobbed, pleading into the concrete floor of the beer cellar to no one in particular.

“Think on this Matthew. Think on. I don’t like it.”

One of the Parsons’ men stepped forward with menace but stepped back again with one glance from Jake.

“I don’t care what you like Adamson. I am the boss here.”

That had been that. There was nothing else Jake could do.


When Jake arrived outside the Bembury club, he saw Stone’s gang hanging around on their bikes. Billy Stone fancied himself as the next big thing in Bembury. Jake knew the type. He was much the same at his age. If there had still been a king then Stone would be pushing himself forward as top man.

It was not that they were bad lads, but they were still a bit wet behind the ears, all leather and no iron. And as usual, some of the lads were snogging with the village girls in the shadows. Jake didn’t approve of that either. Then Brian Smith stepped forward.

“Evening Mr Adamson. Billy was looking for you.” The youth was respectful as ever.

One of the girls started at his name.

“Alice.” Jake was horrified. His youngest daughter was one of the snogging girls.

“Dad I…”

“Get home now and wait up until I arrive. I’ll deal with you later.”

“Yes Dad.” Alice had meant to be away home before now. Damn, at 19 she should know better than to give in to hormones.

As Alice hurried away before her Dad took his belt to her right there in front of the boys, Jake dismissed her from his mind and went in.

It was much the same as usual. All the elders were gathered at the top table. The other established men sat around them with the boys and youths congregating around the bar.

In the middle of the top tables was a large chair in prime position. No one sat in it. No one had since John Able had died.

Jake crossed the room towards one of the other vacant chairs at the top table. He was still cock-of-the-walk and no one crossed him. One of the bar staff even had his pint on the table in front of his chair by the time he sat down.


Two pints later Matthew Parsons arrived with two of his heavies in tow. He nodded to Jake and went to take his place. His pint was a little slow in arriving, a small irksome reminder that he was not as well liked as some in Bembury.

Jake was about to ask after the two reporters again when Billy Stone started calling for attention on the club floor.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Well gentlemen anyway. All good ladies are away to their beds.” This last quip brought good-natured jeers, especially from the few women present. “It has been a while since we had a decent challenge and I think it is high time.”

The room erupted and several of the younger men started to chant ‘fight’ and stamp the feet or beat the tables.

“Jake Adamson has been top man for far too long. I aim to challenge him.”

The room fell silent.

Jake looked daggers at the boy. Boy no more it seemed, Billy was what? Then Jake realised he was 29 by now.

“What do you say Jake? Put this whelp in his place.” It was Sam Castle, one of the veterans of John Able’s ‘court’ and an old friend.

“You sure you are ready for me boy?” Jake rose slowly to his feet and finished his beer in one swallow.

“No disrespect Mr Adamson. But it is time.”

Matthew Parsons looked on with interest. Jake was a thorn in his side. If Billy Stone could take him down then there were some interesting possibilities. Stones’ gang might be useful, very useful. He could take over the whole of the Fens with Billy’s help.

Jake was all to aware of Matthew Parsons’ thoughts. He could hear his mind working. Well not tonight Jake smiled grimly, I am still top man.

Jake removed his jacket that Kate had so carefully brushed that evening and tossed it carelessly onto the floor as tradition demanded. There was a cheer and the chanting was again taken up.

The two men circled each other. Billy nervously, some thought, and Jake with slow calm deliberation.

“Come on boy, let’s see what you have got.”

Billy lunged forward and tried to shoulder barge the older man to the ground. To Jake this was almost laughable, Jake was half again Billy’s weight. In any case, he sidestepped the lunge easily so that Billy went tumbling to the floor. No one laughed.

Billy kicked his leg in a wide sweep from a seated position and Jake went down. Damn, he thought as struggled to regain his feet.

Billy had no such trouble and could have kicked Jake in the head easily, but instead he waited for the older man to get up. Damn fool softness, Jake thought as he stood again and squared up.

Jake landed a punch and Billy went down hard. Few had risen from a one of his punches. Billy wouldn’t. The crowd went wild. Jake grinned and did a turn of the room encompassing it with his open arms.

Then Billy stood up and smiled. Jake knew from the silence and turned slowly to face the upstart. Billy wagged his finger at Jake as if to say ‘not yet.’

The next punch was fast, faster than a man in his 50s should be. Few could have seen, no one did on this night, no one except Billy. He blocked the blow easily and returned one just as fast to Jake’s gut.

Jake sunk to one knee and grunted. Billy could have felled him, but he just waited for Jake to stand upright again. Then one punch from Billy laid him out.

The long silence was painful. Then at last, it was broken by cheers and wild chants of ‘Billy’ over and over. Matthew Parsons grinned.

Jake had to be helped to his feet.

“Alright Billy, you win.” The words were ashes in Jake’s mouth.

“Thank you sir, you nearly had me with that punch. Damn, if I could punch anyone that hard.”

Jake nodded at this and then staggered back to the top table. He had just gained his seat, gratefully accepting another beer when Billy spoke again.

“You’re sitting in the wrong chair sir.”

The room was silent. Matthew Parsons elbowed his companions with glee. Jake was finished, not even a place at the top table. There were a few calls of shame, but they were silenced by a sudden surge from the door. Billy’s gang burst in and began to line the walls of the club.

Jake looked up and fixed Billy with stare. Billy answered with a snap of his fingers and two men stepped forward and pulled John Able’s old chair form the wall.

“That is your chair sir.” Billy bowed.

“Now come on…” Matthew Parsons stood up but was suddenly hemmed in by a dozen youths and young men.

“Jake, Jake, Jake, Jake.” More and more of the club members took up the chant.

“The king is long dead. Too long. Long live the king.” Billy demanded of the room.

“Long live the king.” It was an acclimation.

Jake was helped to his chair and sat bemused as the club erupted.

“Like I said sir, I am the top man. Your top man.” Billy folded his arms and offered Matthew Parsons a significant look.

“Looks like you’re the boss after all.” Matthew Parsons said ruefully.

“Looks like.” Jake agreed. Then added, “Matthew, see that those girls are released in the morning. We can take the heat.”

“As you say.” Matthew’s jaw was tight as he spoke.


Jake was still in a daze when he arrived home later that night. He was almost surprised to find Kate waiting up for him. He shook his head as if trying to remember.

“Alice is still waiting.” She said.

“Ah yes, Alice.”

He turned and went to the washhouse where Alice stood facing the wall wearing only her pyjama tops. She shivered as he entered, due to the coolness of the small hours no doubt. He noted that her small but pert white buttocks shone a little in the limited light as they peeked from under the hem of her striped cotton top.

“You know why you are here.”

“Yes Dad.” As she spoke she moved to the old washing machine and bent over it so that her bottom was thrust backwards and up a little. So like her mother he thought.

“I am sure he is a nice lad. You should bring him to tea one day. But I don’t like you snogging like a tart in public; we have a position to keep up, especially now. More to the point you went behind my back.”

“Yes Dad.” Her voice was small and her bottom wiggled a bit as she shifted position against the cold metal surface of the old twin tub.

Then she heard the belt as it slipped through the hoops on his trousers and a loud breath escaped her.

He seared the leather across both pale globes and she gasped, kicking her heel a little. The second dull thwack followed at once and then another.

“Ahh.” It began to bite hard and the burn began to overwhelm her.

Jake kept to his secret formula. Six followed by one for each year and then add some to fit the crime. Normally 30 would do it, but the daughter of the king needed to show more decorum, so she might as well learn now, he thought.

By the time she broke at 35 searing blasts, her bottom was no longer pale, but a dark burgundy red and Jake thought on the two reporters at Parsons’ hands earlier that evening. If they could take it, then so could Alice.

“Daddy,” Alice sobbed at 40 and he stopped.

He was proud that she still presented her bottom well, so that it arched upwards even in her distress. Then he said: “Alright.”

She leapt up and hugged into him sobbing.

“Hush now its time for bed.”

After she had gone, he turned to Kate.

“Too harsh?”

“Never. Us Adamsons are tough.” She smiled and gave him a squeeze. “It has been a while since I was sent to the washhouse. I miss it sometimes.”

Then she laughed when she saw the disbelief on his face.

“Come on, let’s get to bed.”

“Kate I have something to tell you.”


The two reporters walked gingerly as they took the impossibly long walk to the hotel.

“Why’d they let us go?” The first one groaned.

“They were always going to. They were just trying to scare us.”

“I was scared as soon as I saw that ape’s belt I can tell you.”

“At least we know we are sitting on a hot story.”

“I am not sitting on anything at the moment and even if I was, it’s not the story that is hot right now. You are nuts. I never want to go back there ever again”

“Oh come on. A sound bottom warming never did anyone any harm.”

“Andrea Vane, I would warm your bottom if I could sit long enough to put you over my knee. You got us in to this. Just you wait.”


4 Responses to “Long live the King”

  1. 1 Fatherjim

    Yes, a new king, and he is a writer, a wonderful writer!

    Great story! Wonderful scene and backdrop. If you made up the rumors, it was pure genius, if it is based on reality, well played!

    Two reporters, female no less, getting the strap while tied over beer barrells, absolutely priceless imagery!

    Thank you for sharing!


    • 2 DJ

      Thanks for that and all such comments. 🙂

      This story has been around in my head for a while. I wasn’t sure if it wasn’t too dark what with talk of killing and real threat.

      The tribal traditions are true – but not criminal to my knowledge. The darker elements were transposed from whispers of rumours from another part of England.


  2. DJ, Great story, thank you.

  1. 1 chross.blogt.ch - Chross Guide To The Spanking Internet

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