Mickey thought he had landed on his feet when he moved into his new house-share. The advert had said there was a possibility of reduced rent if he was willing to undertake domestic chores. That suited him fine. He had just graduated university and was hoping to go to grad school. He didn’t have much money and wouldn’t do for years to come.
The Avenue was in an up-scale part of town which was an added attraction. Without the lower rent it was way above his price range. Two guys lived there, they were a “couple.” Mickey didn’t mind, he wasn’t gay himself, but he knew lots of guys and gals at university who were. Nobody gave a damn.
Mickey was hopeless at gauging people’s ages as a little unpleasantness with a fifteen-year-old girl testified, but he reckoned Terrence was about thirty and his boyfriend Jayden a little younger – maybe twenty-five.
It didn’t go well at first. Mickey was tasked with house cleaning, grocery shopping, laundry and dishwashing; in return he would pay half rent. He was no expert at household chores. His mother always complained that his room at home looked like a pigsty. His place at university was no better. He didn’t have the inclination to keep a house clean.
After he had been there a week, he saw something that would change his life forever. He had come home late. He and a gang had been to the cinema; Mickey didn’t have a girlfriend so there was no chance of “afters.” The best he could hope for was a lonely solitary wank in bed. He closed the front door and headed for the kitchen; he needed a drink of water. The kitchen door was open and before he reached it he heard unusual thud, thud, thud sounds.
He got closer and from a distance he saw what it was. Never in a million years would he have expected such a thing. In the kitchen. In the house where he lived. Jayden was bent across Terrance’s knees with his jeans at his feet. Terrance was hammering the wooden side of a brush into his boyfriend’s naked buttocks. These were not “love taps,” some foreplay prelude to lovemaking. Judging by the ferocity of the spanks and the redness of Jayden’s bum, this was an honest to goodness punishment spanking.
The younger guy was “oohing” and “ouching” and wriggling and writhing across Terrance’s lap. Mickey’s face was probably as red as Jayden’s arse, so silently he backed away from the kitchen and quickly climbed the stairs to his bedroom.
Next morning it was the usual chaos as everyone hurried to get to work on time. “There’s no milk,” Jayden whined, slamming the fridge door shut.
“I’ll bring some home with me after work,” Mickey said, spooning cornflakes into his mouth.
“That’s no bloody good,” Jayden was in a temper. “I need it now. It’s your job to get the groceries,” he pouted and stormed from the room. A minute later he was back. “I don’t have a clean shirt. Why don’t I have a clean shirt?”
Mickey shrugged his shoulders, stood from the table, leaving the dirty spoon and bowl. Jayden fumed, “It’s your job. Why didn’t you make sure I had a clean shirt?”
Mickey rasped, “I’m not a mind-reader. You didn’t tell me.”
Jayden’s pale face reddened, “Don’t you dare take that tone with me!”
“Whatever,” Mickey pushed past his housemate. “Don’t get in a strop. It’s not my fault your boyfriend spanked you on your bare arse last night,” he said, picking up his jacket and making for the door, leaving Jayden behind, speechless.
It was a few days later when Mickey was searching through drawers for a pen that he stumbled across The Agreement. It looked like a college certificate and had some kind of coat of arms at the top. There was even a motto. Mickey had no idea what it meant; he wasn’t quite sure which language it was in. He rubbed it between his fingers. It was on high-quality paper. Only half interested, he started to read it. He stopped after one paragraph. His heart thumped. What the heck was this all about? He re-read the paragraph, supposing he had misunderstood. It didn’t make sense. He had never seen anything quite like it before.
He carried on beyond paragraph one. It was a short document; no more than two sides, but it explained everything. Now Mickey knew why Terrance was spanking Jayden’s bared buttocks with a brush.
The Agreement was a contract between Terrance and Jayden. They called it “Domestic Discipline.” Jayden undertook to abide by Terrance’s house rules and if he failed he consented to receive corporal punishment. Mickey’s mouth dried as he read through the list of chores Jayden would perform. Grocery shopping, laundry and cleaning the house were high priorities; all tasks that Mickey now did. Punishments to be dished out were detailed. Jayden would feel a cane, taws, brush paddle, or slipper across his naked buttocks.
Mickey heard the front door open and he hurriedly pushed The Agreement back into the drawer. “What are you doing?” Mickey’s face flushed. Terrance was standing in the doorway.
“Nothing,” Mickey stumbled, but his beetroot complexion told another story.
“I saw you hide something in that drawer. What is it? A porn mag?”
Mickey flushed deeper red.
“Show me.” Terrance pushed his way into the room, strode to the sideboard and yanked open the drawer. “Oh, of course,” he grinned, “The Agreement.”
He reached in and withdrew the contract. He read through it as if seeing it for the first time. “Did you read it?” He peered at Mickey, his lodger was sweating, although the room was quite cold. “Of course you did.”
Terrance smiled. It was a warm friendly smile. “What did you think of it?”
What did he think? What was he supposed to say to that? Mickey mumbled, “Whatever,” and hoped Terrance would let him go.
“It was very effective with Jayden. He’s really a bit of a slut, you know,” Terrance’s smile hadn’t faded. “But after I took him across my knee once or twice, he soon bucked up his ideas.” Terrance returned The Agreement to the drawer. “He really doesn’t like having his arse spanked.”
Mickey hopped from one foot to the other. Why was he telling him all this, he wondered?
“Y’know,” Terrence stared at Mickey. He could feel his landlord’s sparkling blue eyes boring into him. “You’re a lot like Jayden. You’re hopeless around the house,” he knotted his brow and frowned, “And, I suspect, a little lazy. Just like Jayden.”
He turned back to the sideboard and opened a second drawer “Have you ever seen one of these?”
Mickey’s eyes popped. He hadn’t; but he knew what it was. Terrance held a block of wood by a handle in his hand; it was not much bigger than a DVD case. He tapped it thoughtfully into his left palm.
“A very effective buttock burner,” Terrance grinned. “Especially when applied to a boy’s posterior sans clothing,” he paused, delighted by Mickey’s discomfort. “If you get my drift.”
“I … I … should be getting back to my room,” Mickey eased towards the door, not daring to turn his back on Terrance. He took the stairs two at a time and hurtled into his bedroom, but not before Terrance had time to call after him, “We’ll discuss this again a little later, shall we?”
Mickey lay on his back staring at the ceiling. So, now he understood why the rent was so low. Terrance wanted to spank him. But then again, he reckoned, he would only do that if the household chores weren’t done properly.
Mickey had only been spanked once in his life, by a girl at university. Pam was a very matronly type, although she was only twenty years old. She favoured woolly jumpers and sensible skirts. She had a kink. Word got round the boys that she loved to spank them on their bare arses. If they let her do that they were guaranteed a shag.
When Mickey had his turn, he had to drop his jeans and briefs and bend across her knee in typical “naughty boy” pose. She had slippers with fluffy toes and hard but supple soles. She hammered one into his bare arse; it tingled a lot, but didn’t hurt so much. Afterwards, she gave him the ride of his life.
His cock stiffened at the memory and he loosened his chinos.
An hour later there was a hefty knock on the door. It was Terrance. He wanted to continue his “discussion.” In his hand he clutched a leather strap. One end was split into two tails. Mickey blanched at the sight.
“Have you thought about what I said earlier?” Terrance still had that smile.
What had he actually said? Mickey was puzzled. He was soon to find out.
“About you taking a spanking. You haven’t performed your duties well. We had a bargain. Low rent. You need a wake-up call.” Terrance raised the leather taws, in case his lodger hadn’t seen it.
“B …” Mickey began, before biting his tongue. He loved the house, he loved the low rent. He would never again live anywhere so nice. Maybe, he could make a deal. Why not have an Agreement like Jayden? It wouldn’t matter, Mickey would do the chores well, he wouldn’t give Terrance cause to spank him.
It was as if Terrance had read his mind. “We should have an Agreement, but first I must tan your hide. I need to know you are genuine. You must demonstrate you will submit to me.” That was it in a nutshell. There was no need to add, “And if you don’t, pack your bags and leave.”
Mickey sat on the bed, bemused. What was happening? Did this kind of thing go on elsewhere? Were other people in The Avenue getting their backsides blistered by their housemates or fathers or uncles? It was a totally new world for Mickey.
“Well?” Terrance still smiled that damned smile. He tapped the tail-end of the taws into his left palm. Mickey couldn’t take his eyes off it. Tap, tap, tap. It was a worn strap, about eighteen inches long and maybe a quarter inch thick. Pam’s slipper hadn’t hurt so much and she was really letting fly. Perhaps, the leather strap wouldn’t hurt so much either.
He looked at Terrance, his confusion written in his own eyes. Terrance smiled again. “Since it’s your first time, I’ll let you keep your pants on,” he studied Mickey’s reaction closely. “But the chinos must come down.”
Terrance grabbed a small bucket chair and swivelled it so its back faced inside the room. “Trousers down. Bend over the chair.” He stood, his own legs slightly apart and let the taws hang down by the side of his leg. Mickey’s face flushed, but he rose from the bed.
“Good boy,” Terrance said kindly, “It’s for the best. You know it is.”
Mickey was surprised by his own calmness. He unbuckled his belt. The chinos were loose fitting; as soon as he undid the top button and zipper they cascaded down his thighs and past his knees to fall on the floor at his ankles. He noticed a cum stain at the front of his gold-coloured briefs.
“Bend over.” It was a firm instruction, given by a man with experience in these matters. Mickey shot him a glance. It said, “I can’t believe this is happening. This is absurd.” But nevertheless he leaned forward and gripped the seat of the chair. His feet were about eighteen inches apart; his back arched and his bottom jutted out, ready to receive the lash of the leather.
Terrance took his time. He enjoyed the preparations almost as much as delivering the whippings. He pushed Mickey’s shirt tail up his back and clear of the target area. Then, he smoothed the cotton briefs across the young man’s buttocks. He hadn’t noticed before how “springy” Mickey’s buttocks were. He wasn’t “fat” but he was surprisingly well covered.
He rested the leather across the centre of the cheeks, pulled his arm back and let fly. He was rewarded with a delightful Crack! as the taws connected with cotton-covered flesh. Mickey gasped. He felt it, but it didn’t hurt. Not too much.
Terrance could have taken Mickey’s arse off. He could have flogged his taws into his buttocks until they were raw and scorching. He had done that to Jayden often enough. But not the first time. Jayden had been a “newbie” once, just like Mickey. If Terrance wanted the pleasure of spanking his lodger again in the future, he must take his time. The first spanking would tingle, it might throb a little, but it mustn’t put Mickey off. He must be groomed. Soon, probably in the not-too-distant future he could rip him to shreds. But not now, not on this night.
He smacked the taws into Mickey’s gold-coloured briefs. The young man “ooohed” and “aaahed” a little, but he was taking it. He was well within his comfort zone.
“That’s it. Stand up.” Terrance tucked the taws under his arm and watched as Mickey gingerly rose from the chair. “Good boy,” he said by way of encouragement. “Don’t make me have to do that again,” he said, but he didn’t mean it.
Mickey pulled up his trousers. His bottom was sore, but he wasn’t in agony. He remembered the girl at university and the slippering she had given him. Now, after Terrance’s tawsing, his head was remarkably clear. He remembered Pam and the great sex they had. His cock was on the march. He wished she were here, now.
“Tomorrow, we draw up an Agreement,” Terrance said. He turned and hung the taws on a hook on the back of the door. “I’ll leave it here,” he grinned. “As a little reminder.” Still smiling brightly, he left the room.
Mickey stood in front of the mirror and lowered his trousers and briefs. He was startled at how red his cheeks were; but the pain had completely vanished. Gently, he stroked the contours of his bottom. There was a little tenderness, but not much. He couldn’t work out why but he felt disappointed.
He stepped out of his trousers and pants and lay half naked on the bed, reliving in his mind the past few minutes. His cock stiffened. He saw the leather taws hanging from the hook. He crossed the room and took it down. He caressed it in his hands, then lifted it to his nose and sniffed it. He returned to his bed and lay face down. Then, taking the taws in his right hand and twisting his body slightly, he smacked the leather down hard into his own buttocks.
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More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website
Charles Hamilton the Second