Pleasing Master Hans

She is a woman of her word."

Roger nodded silently, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"Now you will bend over the couch please." Hans gesticulated again, and Roger moved slowly to the couch and bent over once more.

Hans moved slowly to Roger's back, and noted his erection was pressing out between his legs.

"Oh, this is not good. Mrs. Kendall did not want to have this be a sexual experience, she say, and your pee-pee is still hard, even though a man is here disciplining you."

Hans shook his head.

"You must be somewhat of a faggy-boy, Congressman."

Roger didn't bother to deny this, it was all too much.

"Can you make this penis soft for Hans, please?"

Roger tried hard, thinking of baseball scores, Subcommittee hearing testimonies, various filibusters he'd sat through, Orrin Hatch's face, but nothing seemed to be calming his rampant erection.

"You are not obeying Hans."

The young man sounded displeased for the first time since he'd come in the office an hour before.

Hans walked to where a chart and pointer were sitting, and picked up the pointer, slashing it through the air.

He then moved back to Roger's behind and took Roger's erect, large penis with one hand, toying with it, and then let go of it and SWACK SWACK!

Hans had perfect aim, it seemed and the pointer landed three times sharply, right on Roger's glans, at the very tip of his penis. Roger's eyes rolled back in his head and he screamed.

"Oh no, you mustn't shout." Hans went into the suitcase again and pulled out a ball gag, locking this around Roger's head.

"That is all we need, a lot of disruption."

Hans gagged Roger and returned to operations with the pointer.

SWACK! Finally Roger's penis was limp, and Hans seemed satisfied. "Very good. You understand Mrs. Kendall cannot have any sexual pleasure coming from this." Hans explained this earnestly.

"And now, finally, we give you the Thudder."

Hans picked up the thick wooden paddle and lifted it above Roger's quivering bottom. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Hans methodically landed the paddle fifty times, alternating from the right cheek to the left, and words cannot describe Roger's pain.

In addition to the slams from the paddle, the jouncing of Roger's body was causing the five pound weight at the end of the chain from his nipples to bounce, and he screamed in vain against his gag.

After twenty-five whacks, Hans paused.

"My goodness, your bottom looks very red, Malwicz." Roger winced at the name.

"Are you ashamed of your heritage, Malwicz?"

Hans chucked Roger under the chin as he bent over the couch, weeping through his gag.

Hans strolled over to the suitcase and pulled out what looked to be a beanie cap like Roger had worn as a freshman in Alpha Tri Zeta, back at Princeton in 1964.

"This is yarmulke, my Raveh." Hans said gently.

Roger gasped. Raveh had been his Hebrew name just before he'd converted with the family to Episcopalians!

But he wasn't Jewish, Roger wanted to protest, his mother was a Gentile so he wasn't technically—He could see his grandfather's contemptuous look again.

Roger felt Hans put the yarmulke on the back of his head, and return to his behind. Hans lifted the paddle again, and gave Roger the final twenty-five whacks.

SLAM! SLAM! WHACK! WHACK!

Finally, it was over. Hans put the Thudder back in the suitcase, and gently helped Roger up, his face looking concerned.

"It was a harsh punishment, ja?" Hans unlocked Roger's handcuffs, and removed his ball gag tenderly, and took off the nipple clamps.

"You must stand still while I replace the cock-cage." Roger stood still and Hans locked the cock cage back on. Hans stood up again.

"Was it so bad liebchen?" he asked affectionately.

Roger began crying softly and Hans took Roger's silver head in his hands.

"I-I'm so sorry I didn't do the lines, Master." Roger sobbed as Hans stroked his hair.

"There there, Raveh, you are a good boy, no? This help you learn what your priorities are, yes? You will not neglect lines again, Raveh." Roger nodded and sobbed against the German's shoulder. It was such a relief—he hadn't cried like this since his tenth year.

Certainly his parents had never physically punished Roger; indeed, they'd given him whatever he liked...this was a new experience. He was contrite.

"Now you will write your two hundred remaining lines, while Uncle Hans has a cigarette yes?"

Hans smiled and propped his feet on the table, and Roger bent on his knees and wrote the lines he had neglected the day before and handed them to Hans.

Hans smiled, and put them in his briefcase. "You may dress now, Congressman Malvern, and perhaps I will not have to visit you again?"

"Wait." Roger begged. "What is it?" Hans asked with his familiar smile.

"Will you let me—" Roger pointed at Hans' crotch.

"Please?"

Hans smiled again and unbuckled his belt.

He had put his turtleneck and jacket back on, but he unzipped his pants and dropped them, and sat back down in the chair, lighting another cigarette as Raveh Malwicz moved his head between Hans' legs, taking Hans' long pink penis between his eager lips.