The House on the Hill Part 1

The first in a series of stories imagining what life might be like in a house where the young men submissively accept that their landlord is entitled to spank their naughty little bottoms when the occasion demands …

Ant liked being a university student. He enjoyed his studies and his grades were pretty good and he knew he would easily pass into the second year. He liked it that there were lots of girls around looking for a good time. He wasn’t seeking ‘romance’ and with his boy-next-door good looks he had no trouble getting laid. He had a few male friends and played in a soccer team. None of them were ever going to be good enough to play for the university, but they didn’t mind. They did it for fun. Yes, if someone questioned him about it Ant would say life was pretty good.

Except for one thing. There was a hiccough on the horizon. He sat in the students’ union bar nursing a bottle of lager with his pal Harry. “My landlord’s throwing me out of my digs,” he lamented, “I have to be out at the end of the week. I came home late once too often.” He stared at the bottle in his hand, “And drunk sometimes.”

Harry just managed to stop his face creasing into a broad smile. Evicted. For being drunk. Instead, he feigned sympathy. “What will you do?” he asked innocently. Already, there was a plan forming in his head.

“Dunno. Sleep on the streets I suppose,” he shrugged his shoulders. He had hoped Harry might have an idea.

And he had, but he wasn’t sure he had the confidence to share it with his pal. He would need to tread softly. “There might be a room at the house where I stay,” he said innocently. “My landlord won’t throw you out if you come home drunk.” Harry sucked on his bottle. He remembered last Wednesday after the football match when the lads went out drinking. He was three sheets to the wind by the time he got back. He stared at the label on his bottle. Could he dare share his story with Ant? They had become good friends over the past months, they played football and chased girls together. He seemed a good sort.

He eased himself into the revelation. “There are four of us at the house,” he rambled. “There were five, but one left.” His heart sped. “It’s down by Widdicombe Wood. Do you know it?” He was babbling now and he knew it. How could he find the right way to say this? “There’s a street, The Avenue, and right at the end of that there’s a big house on its own. We call it The House on The Hill.” He paused, realising how absurd he sounded. “It sounds like it’s a long way away, but it’s not. There’s a bus goes straight there.” He lapsed into silence. He could feel his face flushing. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Tell them what?” Ant was confused.

“What I’m about to tell you.”

Ant had completely lost the thread of the conversation. “Well, yeah, alright,” he was puzzled.

“Promise?”

Ant laughed, “Oh for fcuk’s sake, just tell me.”

Harry took a swig of beer. It was Dutch courage. “Well about being thrown out for coming home late. It’s not like that where I live. Remember last Wednesday …” The lads from the football had been out drinking and Harry had arrived home late and drunk. Ant nodded; he was following his friend’s story so far.

“Well, my landlord. He didn’t throw me out.” The palms of Harry’s hands sweated. He rubbed them on his trousers. Could he share this with his pal? What if Ant told all the other guys in the team? He took a deep breath and the words came rushing out. “He took me across his knee and spanked me. He does it all the time. With all of us …”

Ant’s mouth gaped. His face wrinkled into a questioning frown. It stopped Harry in his tracks.

Ant was first to speak again, “Spanking?” he didn’t quite understand, “Spanking, like smack, smack, smack, naughty boy. Spanking?”

Harry regained his breath and the words tumbled out again. “It’s great place. We don’t pay rent. We get all our meals free. We get all the sports channels on tv and brilliant wi-fi. We have to do some chores, like washing up and doing the garden.” He paused for breath.

“He spanks you?” Ant’s head spun. “You let him? The others too?”

“Ha!” Harry snorted, then he giggled. “I know, I know.”

Ant shook his head. “Is this for real?”

“Well, yes. You couldn’t make it up.”

“Is it a gay thing?” Ant frowned, “You’re not gay. I know you’re not. I’ve seen you with girls.”

“Well …” Harry tried to find the words. “It’s not gay. Not for me.”

“But, the spanking, it’s on the bum. That’s not gay?”

Harry dissolved into laughter, “Well, kinky I suppose. It’s just spanking, nothing else. No …. you know.” There was no sex. There was never any suggestion of it. If he thought about it Harry would concede what they did was a bit kinky. But there were five of them in the house and they were all treated the same. There was safety in numbers; that seemed to make it alright. And, he got his bed and board for free.

“So,” Ant needed to know more. “You get spanked when you come home late?”

Harry was relaxed now and he spoke as if what he described was the most natural thing in the world. “We get spanked for all sorts of things. Not doing the washing up. Being too noisy. We aren’t allowed drink or drugs in the house. It’s a huge place, there are some rooms that we are not allowed in. That kind of thing. We all get it. Maybe once a week.”

Ant chuckled, “Aren’t you embarrassed? Doesn’t it hurt?”

 “It’s okay when you get over the absurdity of it, I suppose. I mean being twenty years old and in the kitchen, trousers at the ankles over the knees of the landlord. He uses his hand. A hairbrush or slipper sometimes. Sometimes he takes our pants down and we get it on the bare.”

Ant shook his head doubtfully. “I just don’t get it.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” Harry huffed.

“I’m not knocking it. It’s just … well who knew what went on behind closed curtains.”

Harry downed the beer in his bottle, “Well,” he handed the bottle to Ant, “Do you want to try it?”

….

Ant had expected the House on the Hill to look like something out of a horror movie. All turrets and crumbling eaves. In fact it was a modern roomy house with big windows and lots of light. A high wall with a locked gate hid it from the rest of community. Ant was sure the other residents of The Avenue would be astonished if they knew what went on inside. He wasn’t sure he wanted to take a room there, but he had to admit he was intrigued by the set up. And, like many kids his age he was mercenary enough to be attracted by free rent and meals.

The plan was to meet with Mr Burchall, the owner and landlord. They’d just talk, mull things over. It was entirely new territory for the nineteen-year-old. He needn’t commit himself. Besides, Ant had told Harry Mr Burchall might not like him. Harry’s uncontrolled snort was left unanswered.

Harry and Ant walked up the path towards the house. Suddenly Ant stopped. Through the large window he saw a lad, no older than himself. He was draped across the knee of an older man. The boy’s trousers were at his shins and the man was crashing the palm of his hand across the seat of the lad’s tight briefs. Ant couldn’t stop his own mouth from gaping. Harry stood quietly eyeing his companion. Ant’s face was as scarlet as the boy’s bum.

The two students stood quietly watching the scene ahead of them unfold. Mr Burchall had the boy across his knee, his arm gripped the lad’s waist to keep him in place. There didn’t seem to be any need for this. The boy lay submissively staring down at the ground, his bum raised high across the landlord’s thigh.

Suddenly, without a word being said, Mr Burchall gripped the elasticated waist and slowly tugged the pants over the top of his tenant’s buttocks. Instinctively, the lad raised his hips a centimetre or so to allow his punisher to more easily slip the briefs across his bum and guide them slowly down his thighs and settle them at his knees. Then Mr Burchall slapped the palm of his hand with terrific force across the boy’s bare buttocks.

Even at a distance Ant could see the boy’s bum glowed bright pink. They must be scorching, he thought.

“It doesn’t hurt much,” Harry mumbled as if answering Ant’s thoughts. “The palm of the hand,” he explained, “it can’t hurt that much. No matter how hard he spanks us,” he trailed off, suddenly realising how strange he sounded.

He observed Ant watching the spanking and tried to remember how he felt the first time he saw one of his pals take a walloping. Was “surreal” the word he needed? It was certainly odd or weird and definitely “unreal”. How many people did he know who had this kind of arrangement with their landlord?

“But…” Ant seemed to be responding to Harry’s comment. Harry burbled on, “The slipper doesn’t hurt much either,” he prattled, “You’d think it would, wouldn’t you. The sole’s too soft.” He giggled at the absurdity of his comment, and then continued nonetheless, “He’s got this leather paddle. That stings. But it depends how hard he whacks you with it. Then he has a hairbrush. Great wooden fucker, it is. Now that does hurt.”

Harry stopped gibbering. Ant had taken a cloth from his pocket and was wiping sweat from his face. “But…” Ant tried once more to form a coherent sentence. He failed.

Inside the room, Mr Burchall had stopped spanking the lad. He said something and then the boy hauled himself from the older man’s lap. The landlord spoke again and submissively the tenant with his trousers at his ankles and pants at the knees shuffled across the room. He halted at a far corner and poked his nose into it. He put his hands on his heads in the classic naughty-boy posture.

“He’s finished,” Harry said cheerfully, “Come in and meet Mr Burchall.”

Ant’s head buzzed as he followed his pal into the house.

Picture credit: Sting Pictures

For more ‘The House on the Hill’ click here

Other stories you might like:

The old ways were the best

Rhys, 21, and the bath brush

Nothing ventured, nothing gained

 

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