Tom smiled when his new landlord told him that if he came home drunk one more time and disturbed everyone, he’d pull down Tom’s trousers, put him over the back of the settee and spank his backside very hard indeed. It wasn’t long before Tom had the grin wiped off his face.
Tom was a first-year student and the university had sent him to lodge with the Clutterbucks. They were a poor family, not destitute but they needed the money they got letting out the room. It was a new experience for Tom who came from a comfortable middle-class home. His dad was a doctor and his mum was an executive in a national charity.
University was supposed to be a new experience for young people and staying with the Clutterbucks was certainly that for Tom.
He made pals with their son, Alfie, who was nineteen, a year older than Tom, and they couldn’t have been more different. Tom was a serious lad who worked hard enough at his studies to make sure he passed his exams so he could have a bright future like his parents. Alfie had left school at fifteen and had a series of dead-end jobs since. At the time of this story, he was working in a factory. This was 1975 and they still had factories back then. Alfie loved a laugh. He was always getting up to mischief and was the bane of his dad’s life. It was like having a naughty twelve-year-old in the house. It wasn’t until years later, long after he had forgotten all about the Clutterbucks really, that Tom wondered if Alfie hadn’t been a bit ‘simple.’
Mr Clutterbuck worked on the roads for the local council and his wife served in the canteen at the same factory where Alfie worked.
Tom palled up with Alfie because Tom was new to town and didn’t know his way around. It would take a while for him to make friends at the university. In the early days they spent a lot of time together and that was how Tom got into trouble.
He wasn’t a big drinker, which was unusual for a student, and even a couple of pints could quickly go to his head and make him lose control. Alfie, on the other hand had been on the bottle since he was about twelve and used to go round his uncle’s house and steal bottles of beer from his ‘cocktail cabinet.’
The first time the pair of the them came home drunk Tom managed to stagger up the stairs to his room and crash out on the bed without Mr Clutterbuck knowing. Another time though the pair of them came home well after midnight (there had been a ‘lock in’ at the Three Fishers) and Tom who hadn’t drunk that much (not compared to Alfie) fell up the stairs and before he could stop himself he puked his guts up. Luckily, the stairs were covered with lino and not carpet and it was relatively simple (although unpleasant) for Mrs Clutterbuck to clean up the mess.
The noise of Tom’s fall and the sicking-up and Alfie’s shrieks of laughter woke Mr Clutterbuck up and when he staggered out of his bedroom in his pyjamas and saw the sight of the two lads, that was when he told Tom that if he did this again he’d get a spanking. He didn’t say the same to Alfie; as Tom discovered later, he didn’t have to Tom already knew the consequences of such bad behaviour.
So, it was no great surprise that a week or so later – it was getting close to Christmas and there was a lot of drinking to be done – that the pair came home a little the worst for wear to be greeted by an angry and snarling Mr Clutterbuck.
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ he growled in distain, ‘I’ll deal with you in the morning.’ With that he went back to watching the late night movie on the BBC.
Next day was Sunday and as is the way with young people both Alfie and Tom were awake and ready to greet the day by nine o’clock; teenagers don’t get hangovers.
Mrs Clutterbuck was clearing the breakfast dishes away when Mr Clutterbuck popped his head around the door of the kitchen. ‘Right, you two, follow me.’ They took the few steps out of the kitchen and into the living room. The Clutterbucks lived in a small council house. It was almost new and very modern, they hadn’t been there for more than a couple of years, their old placing having been demolished in slum clearance.
Tom stood anxiously unsure what was going to happen next. Alfie had seen it all before, he knew exactly what would happen and as far as Tom could tell he wasn’t much bothered. Tom had his landlord’s words echoing in his ear, ‘I’ll take down your trousers, put you over the back of the settee and spank your backside very hard indeed’ – or words to that effect. Tom would have called the settee a sofa but he let that pass.
‘I’ve had all that I’m going to take from you two,’ Mr Clutterbuck said without much emotion as he walked over to the sideboard and opened a cupboard door. Tom watched him reach inside. Tom was a bit puzzled by what Mr Clutterbuck had in his hand. It looked to Tom like a small cricket bat. It was a piece of wood with a blade and a handle attached. It was a bit too broad to be a cricket bat but it might have made a good chopping board for vegetables but maybe it was a bit too small for that.
Tom’s landlord held the bat with one hand and tapped it gently into the palm of his other. ‘Move the settee,’ he said and Alfie knew exactly what he had to do. The settee – a two-seater couch – had its back to the wall. It wasn’t very big and must have been quite light because Alfie had no trouble in moving it away from the wall and turning it round so that the back faced into the room.
‘Good,’ Mr Clutterbuck seemed to be talking to himself and he carried on tapping the bat into his palm. ‘You,’ he said to Tom, ‘Stand by the wall. Alfie, show Tom how this is done.’
Tom shuffled the couple of steps needed so that he was standing by the wall under a mirror. He didn’t take time to look at his own face, if he had done so he would have seen a young man – eighteen years old, so not more than a boy really – with a very pale face. His usually bright eyes were dull and his mouth was turned down into a frown. He looked very unhappy and that was because he was nervous about what was going on in the room. The moment Mr Clutterbuck had taken hold of the bat, Tom knew that his landlord intended to make good on his promise. What was Tom supposed to do? He didn’t have much time to think about it because his pal Alfie was about to show that he could indeed show Tom how to do this.
Alfie had positioned the settee to his dad’s satisfaction and without further instruction he began to unbuckle his belt. It was a wide, heavy leather affair and took a moment or two to get undone. Back in 1975 the fashion with trousers was to have very high waistbands with lots of buttons and it took Alfie an age to get each one undone – there were five in all. Tom couldn’t help but stare at Alfie’s fingers as slowly but methodically he got each button undone. The trousers were made of lots of material and had huge flares and with the weight of the leather belt as soon as Alfie let go of the waist the trousers hurtled down to his feet, a bit like clown’s trousers do at the circus.
Alfie wore black cotton briefs and quite absurdly really Tom noticed that he had exactly the same kind of underpants. His mother had bought them at Marks & Spencer and Tom supposed Alfie’s mum had been to the same shop.
Tom didn’t have much time to look at Alfie’s pants because – again without instruction from his dad – Alfie slipped his thumbs inside the waistband of the pants and with a bit of a flick of the wrists he had them slipping down his thighs until they bunched at his knees. Tom’s eyes boggled as he watched his friend then take a deep breath, rub the palms of his hands together before kind of diving over the back of the settee.
Alfie was a bit too tall to fit comfortably over the settee but he spread his legs and bent his knees a bit and arched his back and after all that he had his bare bottom angled over the back of the settee and in a perfect position for his dad to whack him with his wooden bat.
Tom had seen a few bare bums before at school in the changing room at Games but he had never really looked at one too closely (he wasn’t a poofter after all). But he stared possibly open mouthed at Alfie’s bottom which was firm and round. He noticed there were hardly any hairs on his cheeks but Alfie’s legs were covered in quite thick dark hair. Although Alfie had shown no fear when he prepared himself for this spanking Tom now saw that his buttocks were quivering, probably in anticipation of what was to come.
It was all so unreal that for a while Tom couldn’t take in what was happening. Here was his pal with his trousers at his ankles and his pants at his knees bent over the back of the settee and he was quite calmly submitting himself for a bare bottomed spanking from his father. It was almost impossible to believe. And, and Tom didn’t want to think about this at all, he, Tom, was going to be next.
Mr Clutterbuck gripped hold of the bat – Tom would later learn that these things were called paddles and they were quite popular for spanking boys in the United States. In England the cane was still much in use in schools and fathers, if they spanked at all, probably used belts or slippers or maybe their wife’s hairbrush.
Mr Clutterbuck stood close to his son and rubbed the blade across his left cheek then without word or warning he raised it and brought it crashing down with a resounding whack! The outline of the paddle was immediately embossed in red on Alfie’s flesh. The boy made no obvious movement and then waited patiently for the next whack to fall which it duly did, this time on the right cheek.
To Tom the two swats looked like they were painful but Alfie made no obvious sign that they were. What Tom didn’t realise was that Alfie had been across the back of that settee more times than he could remember and, yes, the paddle did hurt and it hurt a lot but Alfie had become used to it over the years so he was able to present himself for a spanking without fuss. Besides Alfie knew he had broken dad’s rules and he knew that the penalty for doing that was a bare-bottomed spanking and so he felt he had nothing to complain about.
Dad gave him twelve swats and by the time he did that all of Alfie’s backside and the top half of his thighs were glowing a bright pink. Even as he stood up and took a long time doing up all those buttons, bruises were forming and they would stay with him for a few days at least.
‘Right,’ Mr Clutterbuck said to Tom, ‘Your turn.’ Tom stood dumbfounded. What should he do? Of course, the situation was bonkers but there wasn’t any choice. His pal Alfie had bravely presented himself across the back of the settee and taken his whacking like a man (or, more accurately, like a naughty little boy) and Tom must do the same.
Tom wore jeans which were much less trouble to get down. They fitted snugly and he needed no belt. He was surprised how shaky his hands were when he tried to pop the rivet on the waistband and pull the zip fly. At last he got them open but unlike with Alfie his jeans didn’t fall down on their own and he needed to roll them down his legs. Then, he stood in his underpants and once more he couldn’t quite get his hands to work.
‘Pants down,’ his landlord ordered as he swung the paddle though the air as if taking practice swats. It was so unreal that Tom couldn’t believe this was really happening and that it was him who was about to be spanked. He remembered how Alfie had looked a few moments ago and in Tom’s mind it wasn’t himself but Alfie who was now standing there. Only with that image in his mind could Tom find the courage to work his underpants down his thighs.
Again, there was hesitation and again his landlord had to prompt him. ‘Bend over the settee.’ Eventually, Tom went over the back of the settee and like Alfie he wriggled about until he had his bare backside perfectly angled.
Tom felt the heavy wood tap, tap, tapping against his right cheek, then it was lifted away and then Whack! It hurt like the fires of hell. Tom had never been spanked in his life, not even a light tap on the seat of his trousers when he was a toddler. He had never experienced anything like this. The pain was excruciating and he couldn’t hide the fact. He howled like a banshee or some such. He didn’t know how he stopped himself jumping to his feet and running yelling from the room.
The paddle tapped against his other cheek. Oh my God, Tom thought, I’ve got to take twelve of these.
Mr Clutterbuck spanked Tom equally as hard as he had Alfie. It may have been Tom’s first time and he hadn’t built up Alfie’s endurance and Mr Clutterbuck could have gone easy. He might have just landed a few ‘love taps’ or he might have only given him only six swats or something like that. But Mr Clutterbuck was a fair man and he knew Alfie and Tom were equally guilty and so they deserved – no, they needed – to be punished equally.
Tom might not have thought so at the time, at the time the wood was tearing up his backside and his whole body was wracked in agony, he might not have thought then that he should be whacked so hard but later when it was all over and he and Alfie were upstairs together comparing marks he was glad of it. In some way that he couldn’t understand getting his backside blistered with his new friend brought them close together. Even though in truth they had absolutely nothing in common except their ages this common experience meant something.
Also, he was glad that Alfie didn’t mention how much Tom had yelled the house down.
A couple of weeks later Tom went back to Brocklehurst for Christmas and during the holidays the university told him they had found him a room in the halls of residence for next term, so he never went back to the Clutterbucks and he never saw Alfie again.
Picture credit: Unknown.
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