Terchi Slobbo, the one-time soccer sensation, has revealed for the first time how he was often “spanked on my bare bottom, well into my twenties.”
He says his parents appointed a “minder” and deal with him appropriately when he stepped out of line.
Slobbo, who was born and raised in rural Latvia, said it was not unusual for young men to be physically punished by family members – usually their fathers or uncles. Children were taught to respect their elders and to “know their place,” he says.
Slobbo, now aged 58 and a sought after commentator and pundit on television and radio, made the revelation in a new memoir.
Slobbo burst onto the English football scene when only fifteen. By the age of eighteen he was scoring goals for premiership champions Brocklehurst Rovers. He is only five-feet six and with his snake-like hips and boyish good looks he quickly became a favourite with fans and non-fans alike. He was voted the grandmothers’ favourite footballer two years running by a national magazine.
Slobbo said the spankings were “often but not routine.” He said, “I was never whipped or flogged, they were what the English would call ‘good, old fashioned spankings’.”
He described one instance when his minder (who he does not name) dealt with him. He had overslept one morning and the minder who was to drive him into training was badly inconvenienced. Later that afternoon back at Slobbo’s apartment he was “dealt with”.
Slobbo writes, “I had just turned twenty but in the eyes of my parents I was not an adult. I had inconvenienced one of my elders and deserved to be punished. People today will find this hard to believe but I accepted this without question, even though my bottom suffered. There was a certain ritual about what happened. First, my “crime” was read out and I was obliged to admit or confess my misdeeds. In this case it was laziness and inconsideration of others.
“Although I have been spanked many times, I don’t like it. Of course it hurts, but it is also very embarrassing. My father said to me many years earlier, ‘It is not a proper spanking unless it is on the bare bottom.’ Can you imagine how humiliating that is for a twenty-year-old man?
“That afternoon, my minder called me into the main room and he scolded me for some moments. I stood ashamed, head bowed. I watched as he moved towards a cupboard in the corner. My heart raced. I knew what he was going for. Seconds later he held a large, heavy wooden brush. Still today I do not know what that brush’s proper purpose was. It might have been for hair or clothes. What I do know was that it made a spectacular spanking tool and that very soon it would sizzle my bottom.
“He didn’t need to say much, I was no stranger to spanking. He moved over to a small couch and settled himself in the middle.”
Slobbo says his minder was in his thirties and regularly worked out at the gym. “He had more muscles than me, and I was a professional athlete.” There was no question of resistance, Slobbo says. “There would be no unseemly fight. I was brought up to accept that from time to time I must be subject to discipline.”
The minder was calm throughout. “He had a job to do and he was ging to do it. I think, he saw it as his ‘duty’ to keep me in line. I was by now a world-famous footballer and people looked up to me. It was important that I was a perfect role model. I had to remember that I must not ‘get above myself’.”
Slobbo says, “The minder said, ‘Take off your trousers.’ I expected this. It took some time to get my trainers off (in those days they were ridiculously large with metres of laces to untie). Once that was done it was no problem to remove my socks and lower my trousers. The rule for spankings in my family was to remove the trousers completely. I don’t know why this was so. I had friends who simply left them crumpled at the ankles; obviously at the feet they provided no protection from the spanking.”
Slobbo was now dressed only in a t-shirt and snugly-fitting cotton trunks. “I had a sponsorship deal with an underwear fashion house and always wore pants that fitted like the proverbial second-skin. My bottom was small but hard. Playing football tightened the muscles back there. The Americans say ‘buns of steel’. I may have had hard, tight buttocks but that didn’t protect me from the pain of a spanking.”
The minder was curt and workmanlike. “Bend over my knee,” Slobbo remembers him saying. “Sitting the way he was on the couch it wasn’t so much his knee as ‘get across my lap.’ I climbed on him, stretched out and rested my chest on the settee cushion. My legs just dangled behind me. I couldn’t see myself, of course, but I knew my bottom was resting in a perfect position for him to whack my bum.
“He put his left arm across my back to keep me still and quite suddenly began to whack the palm of his hand across the seat of my pants. His hands were like shovels – steam shovels – and he quickly got a rapid rhythm going. It hurt. Quite a lot actually. But I knew this was only the warm up. Quite literally. My bottom was heating up nicely (not that I thought it was nice). He went round the circuit, slapping me across the highest point of the mounds, then across the tops and finishing in the under-curve where the cheeks and thighs meet.
“He would have done this for maybe three or four minutes. My bottom was toasted. Suddenly he stopped. There was a pause. He said nothing. I caught my breath a little. This was ‘recovery time.’ I knew we were not finished. We weren’t even at half time.
“I shuddered as he gripped the waistband of my pants. Then he tugged. This was the ritualistic baring of the bottom. We were never allowed to pull down our own pants. This was the task of the punisher. It told us that we were not in control. We were to submit ourselves totally.
“The pants would sometimes snag and I would have to raise my body a centimetre or two off his body to allow him to slide them over the buttocks. He wouldn’t take them completely off. He left them bunched at the knees. They were well enough away from the target area to be of no protection for me and they prevented me from kicking my legs about as the pain in my rear-end increased towards agony.
“Satisfied that I was properly prepared, he picked up the brush that he had placed somewhere conveniently and began the main event of the afternoon.
“I genuinely do not remember how many spankings I received growing up (all of them thoroughly deserved) but I never got used to the pain. Friends told me the nerve ends in their own bottoms become quite numb and by the time they were in their late teens and twenties they never felt a thing. Do they tell the truth? I don’t know. I can only say I wished it was the case with me. Alas no. The minder showed me no mercy. He put every sinew of muscle into those spanks. Bang! Bang! Bang! The noise of wooden brush connecting with my tight bare flesh bounced off the walls. Could the people in the next door apartment hear? Probably not; if they knew I was having my bottom spanked because I was an inconsiderate young man they would have sold the story to the highest-paying tabloid newspaper. Such things happened in those days.”
Slobbo describes the bare-bottom whacking as “intense”. He says, “He traced the same route as the hand spanking. Not a single square centimetre of my bottom was unblistered. My body was rocking and rolling over his lap, but his arm gripped me tightly and I had no choice by to stay face down over the couch and take my punishment. The body does strange things when it is attacked and I was soon out of control. My legs kicked (even with the pants restraining them), my arms waved frantically, my head rose and fell and shook left and right. Strange sounds came from my throat; I was like a horse whinnying. My bum throbbed like crazy, I couldn’t see myself but it felt like it was swelling to twice its natural size. My temples throbbed almost as much as my bum cheeks and sweat soaked my scalp. And still the spanking continued, relentlessly.”
By the time the spanking was over, Slobbo says, the flesh on his bottom was hard and felt like leather. “The pain was intense at the time the brush whacked my bum and that pain grew and grew with each successive stroke. It was like my bum was on fire, or like I’d sat in a bowl of boiling water. I never timed the spanking but it felt like it went on for half an hour (but in reality was maybe five minutes). Once he let me go and I had stopped jumping up and down on the spot, like we do when we get injured on the football field to run off the pain I rushed to my bedroom and lay with my face in a pillow.
“The pain very quickly eased into a constant throb which in turn soon became no more than an ache. Within minutes the worse was over, but sometimes I found it uncomfortable to sit on a hard surface for the rest of the day. When I inspected the damage in the mirror I saw the outline of the brush reproduced in dark pink dozens and dozens of times across the cheeks.”
Slobbo never told team mates about the spankings. “Usually by the time I was back in the dressing room next day the worst of the marks had disappeared. The days when we shared communal baths were long gone and we had individual shower units so it was quite easy to hide myself from the others. If any of them did notice I had been spanked they had the good manners not to mention it.”
A fake News story published by the Brocklehurst Bugle
Picture credits: Unknown.
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Charles Hamilton the Second
Male on male spanking stories 
This almost sounds true
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