Jimmy watched the colour drain from his flatmate’s cheeks as he placed the telephone receiver back on the cradle. “Is everything all right?” he asked anxiously. “It’s my dad,” Harry croaked. “What!” Jimmy’s voice rose, “Is it bad news; is he ill?” “No,” Harry sighed. “He’s coming to visit. This afternoon,” his shoulders slumped and he shuffled from the room.
Half an hour later he was back and his mood had not changed. “You won’t be here this afternoon.” It was a statement, not a question but Jimmy didn’t get the inference in his pal’s voice. “No,” he replied breezily. “I’m meeting Matt in town.” “Good,” Harry replied thoughtfully.
“It’s good your dad’s coming,” Jimmy enthused, “Mine never would. I don’t think he cares how I am.” “Lucky you,” Harry grumbled and he went back to his room despondently.
Jimmy thought no more about it and by one o’clock he was on the bus into Brocklehurst. Harry waited miserably watching the clock, willing it to stop so that time would stand still. Dad was a man of few words. There was no hearty greeting when he arrived. He had a job to do and he was going to do it. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” was the first thing he said as he closed the door behind him and entered the flat. “In here,” he ordered and he led the way into the living room. Harry followed miserably.
“Your grades are getting worse not better. I told you what would happen,” he scolded. Harry stood silently, Dad was correct on both counts and there was nothing the boy could say. “Well,” Dad continued as he delved into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a small leather paddle, “I think we both know what happens next.” He slipped the jacket from his back and carefully laid it on the table.
“Oh, Daaaaad,” Harry whined, “Pleeease, I’m too old for this.”
Dad sighed, “You are not old enough to behave responsibly. You have no self-discipline, so that means …” he brandished the paddle. His action spoke louder than any words. Harry grimaced. He knew better than to argue. He had complained he was too old the last time Dad dealt with him; his protest fell on deaf ears that time too.
“C’mon on son,” Dad pulled an armless chair that stood against a wall into the middle of the floor. He sat down and wriggled to get comfortable. He parted his knees and planted his feet firmly on the floor. “C’mon son,” he repeated, “You know how this is done.”
Harry did know and he didn’t like it one little bit. He stood rooted hoping (in vain) that Dad might change his mind, that he would see reason. That he might let him off a spanking. But why should he? Harry had no one to blame for his predicament but himself and if a reasonable person questioned him on the matter, he would have no choice but to admit that he deserved what was coming.
“I’m waiting,” his dad snapped, “Let’s get this over with.” He pointed his finger at his son and made an up and down gesture. “No, Dad, no,” Harry shook with embarrassment. “No please, not trousers down,” he whimpered. Dad stared coldly and tutted, “Trousers and underpants too. Get ’em down.”
“Daaaad,” the whining continued.
“Do you want me to do it for you?” Dad could not resist a sneer as he moved forward in his chair. Harry recoiled. “No, it’s alright, I-I-I I’ll do it.” His jeans fitted snugly and needed no belt so he popped the button on the waistband and with his face flushing he unzipped. Too embarrassed to look at his dad he guided the denims down his thighs. “All the way,” Dad groaned, “Down to the feet.” Harry hopped from foot to foot and the jeans slid down to his shins. He stood wishing the ground would swallow him up. His bright blue underpants fitted as snugly as the jeans. His limp cock filled out the front. “Down,” Dad sighed, exasperated.
Harry took a deep breath to steel himself for the task. He hitched his thumbs under the elasticated waistband and with a solid flick of the wrists he guided the pants over his buttocks. They slithered down his legs and rested on top of the jeans. He cupped his hands in front of himself to hide his cock and balls from his dad’s view.
Dad wasn’t interested. He had seen it all before and at close quarters. And he had seen Harry’s bare bottom too. “Bend over,” he intoned and he slapped his own thigh as an encouragement. Harry took another deep breath, he rubbed his sweaty palms together, took a half-step forward and like a diver going into icy water he fell forward across his dad’s knees. Harry was a little shorter than the old man and for a young man his age Harry fitted in the “naughty boy” position quite well. He rested the palms of his hands on the floor and the tips of his toes brushed the floor behind him. His bottom was positioned over his dad’s right thigh at the perfect angle to receive swats.
In the street outside, Jimmy got off the bus. Matt hadn’t turned up and when he rang the halls of residence no one came to answer the phone. That’s alright, Jimmy told himself. So, he hadn’t turned up, it was no big deal, it wasn’t as if they were boyfriends. As he opened the front door, he was greeted by the sound of handclapping. He paused in the passageway; ears pricked. Hand clapping? Well, he told himself, it certainly sounded like that, coming from the living room.
Without thinking he pushed the door open; the noise was louder now. He stood in the doorway, startled. His eyes stalked. It wasn’t handclapping. In front of him was Harry, his trousers and underpants at his shins spreadeagled across his dad’s lap. And dad was enthusiastically slapping what looked like a leather bat across his son’s naked backside. Jimmy’s jaw dropped. As yet dad and Harry had not noticed him.
Harry’s bottom shone bright pink. It quivered as the bat smacked into one round cheek after another. Dad held Harry around the waist to keep him steady, but the boy was going nowhere. He meekly lay, face down staring at the laminated floor and let his dad spank him.
Jimmy didn’t know what to do so he coughed. It caught the attention of Harry’s dad. “You must be Jimmy,” he said “I’m Harry’s dad,” he nodded toward the boy across his knees in case there was any doubt who he meant. Harry’s shoulders jerked, he twisted his body to look at Jimmy, “Oh, shit!” he exclaimed once he had confirmed his humiliation was now being witnessed by his flatmate.
Harry’s dad continued spanking, unabashed. He had a rhythm going. Mostly, he slapped his bat across the fleshiest part of his son’s buttocks creating a thud-thud-thud sound. Then he aimed lower into the crease where the cheeks and thighs met. Then to complete the circuit he went high over the apex of the mounds. By now the hue on Harry’s rosy cheeks was deepening. It looked mighty sore, Jimmy thought.
“He thinks he can go out night after night and not study,” Harry’s dad spoke to the room in general. “He thought I wouldn’t find out, but I did,” he wheezed as he increased the speed of the spanks. Harry twisted over his dad’s lap, his head jerked up and down. From his standing position by the door Jimmy could tell his pal was struggling not to yap and yell. “I pay a fortune to keep him at university,” his dad explained, “And this is how he repays me,” he aimed the bat at Harry’s naked thighs. “By skiving. Getting bad grades.”
Jimmy found himself nodding in agreement. Why, he didn’t know. He was just as bad. Only the previous night they had been with pals at the Union bar until one o’clock. None of them had seen the inside of the library in weeks. Jimmy himself hardly ever attended classes.
“Nineteen years old,” Harry’s dad muttered, “You really should be too old for this,” he declared and continued to rain blows across Harry’s naked bum. “Far too old.”
He looked at Jimmy. “I bet you don’t waste your time in pubs and clubs. I bet your grades aren’t failing.”
“Oh no,” Jimmy replied without thinking.
“Liar!” Harry roared, “Yours are worst than mine …” he clenched his mouth shut as his dad quickened his pace with the paddle.
“No, no, that’s not true. You’re the liar,” Jimmy couldn’t think why he was panicking.
“What does your dad think about your grades?” Harry’s dad asked.
“Dunno,” Jimmy couldn’t stop himself talking, “I never tell him.”
“And are they as bad as Harry’s? Do you both skive off college to go drinking and chasing girls?”
“Well, I …” Jimmy blustered.
“Yes, he does. Yes, he does,” Harry announced. “He’s the worst. He leads me on, it’s all his fault.”
“Be quiet you,” his dad quickened the tempo and the slap of leather on naked flesh took the young man’s breath away.
“What would your dad do if he knew about your bad grades?”
Jimmy’s throat dried. Why was he asking that? “Nothing, I suppose,” he said hesitantly.
“I’m not so sure about that.”
Jimmy didn’t know why his heart raced.
“Get up. Stand and face the wall.” Harry’s dad released his hold on his son and without waiting to be told again he bounded to his feet. Careful to keep his privates out of his dad and pal’s view he scuttled over to the wall.
“Now,” Harry’s dad stood and faced Jimmy. “I think you’re both as bad as each other,” his eyes narrowed sending a chill up Jimmy’s spine.
“Nooooo,” Jimmy already started to protest before the older man reached out to take hold of him by the elbows. “It’s only fair …” he left the sentence unfinished. Skillfully, he unbuckled Jimmy’s belt. The trousers fell and the pants quickly followed.
“Stoppit! Leave me alone! It’s none of your business!” he protested as Harry’s dad sat down and pulled the nineteen-year-old across his knee. Further protest was drowned out by the stinging sound of leather across another naked bottom.
Picture credit: British Boys Fetish Club
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Don’t Knock it Until You’ve Tried
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Traditional School Discipline
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More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website
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Charles Hamilton the Second
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Male on male spanking stories 