A Weeend with Master Hans

Bootsie did something just unforgivable.

"Don't make any plans this weekend, Darrell," she said breezily.

"I've hired a Male Master to work on your attitude problems."

Darrell's jaw dropped.

"A-a what?" He needed to clean out his ears, he thought.

Bootsie smiled.

"A male master...he's a friend of Fanchon Nemirow's.

You know, you go to ChasteBois with her husband. I've decided that part of the reason you hold on to this false pride and arrogance, which

prevents you from showing your real self to your secretary, has something to do with the male ego."

Darrell wiped his brow.

"The male ego. But...the guys at ChasteBois have been telling me about that-that being dominated by a guy stuff. I'm not gay, and I don't think—"

Bootsie shook her head.

"Don't worry about your needs. You're so obsessed with self. It's all about you, all the time.

I'm trying to eradicate that. It's going to be expensive, too, paying for him to come from Germany but it's worth it—"

"Germany? You're going to have some guy come from Germany for the WEEKEND?"

Darrell's eyes were bugged out.

She was insane, this woman.

"We don't have the money, and I don't—"

"Don't worry about it. I'm selling your Sportrend speedboat.

And, I think, the Jet Ski as well. Master Hans isn't coming for the weekend, but for about a month.

It's really going to do you good, Darrell."

Bootsie paused, smiling before she returned to her "Elle" magazine.

"You told me it would excite you to put your possessions in my name, as your dominant.

Yes, so it should excite you more that I'm selling them."

That Friday night, when Darrell walked into the house, he saw a trim looking man with curly blond hair, wearing a turtleneck sweater, and relaxing with a cigarette.

Darrell noted with horror that the blond fellow was using his frat mug as an ashtray.

"Hey, we don't smoke here in the house" Darrell began.

"I don't know who you are—"

"That will be enough talk"

the blond man said in a heavy European accent.

"More to hear from you is ah, unnecessary, ja?"

He dropped the cigarette in the mug and stood up.

"I am Master Hans. You are Darrell?"

"Yeah, I'm Darrell. Where's Bootsie?"

Fucking Kraut.

Darrell was half Jewish, and his Uncle Shmuley had always said that if he ever became President the two things he'd do were ban diesel trucks and bomb Germany for what they did to the Jews.

No one is fucking around with me, Darrell thought.

Look at this little twerp. Doesn't look like he weighs more than one fifty.

"Where's Bootsie? I don't want her leaving strangers in my house and—"

Darrell, in thinking about it later, never did figure out how Hans got close enough to him to hook his leg and bring all 195 pounds of him to the floor.

Or how then, Hans had flipped him on his stomach and pulled his arm behind his back.

"Your wife has gone to her sister's for the next month."

Master Hans's voice came from above Darrell's confused and dizzy head.

"I said this earlier, it is much talk I do not need to hear from you, ja? What we need from you, Darrell is a bit of quiet."

Darrell, who bench pressed 270, struggled mightily against Hans's arm holding him down.

His head turned to look up at Hans and utter profane imprecations, but Hans used his palm to gently shove Darrell's head against the floor and hold it there.

Hans appeared to have thin arms, but one was holding Darrell's arm down and the other Darrell's quite muscular neck...

Ah there was more to Hans than one might think!

"Now I would like to have you get up.

I am sure this is not comfortable for you, but I cannot have any more distraction.

We have much work to do in the next month, and it will be hampered during the week with your having to go to the office."

Darrell really wanted to get up, and hated having Hans's palm on his cheek, holding his head on the floor.

How the fuck could this be worth a racing motorboat?

"Master Hans if you allow me to rise, I will um, not speak as much."

Miraculously, Master Hans's hands left Darrell's body, and Darrell was allowed to rise.

It occurred to him that now he could try to overpower the German, but strangely, he was quite subdued.

"You will remove your clothes, Darrell.

Remove your clothes and kneel before me, no more time wasted."

And Darrell mechanically began removing his clothes.

He folded them and knelt before Hans, mentally reviewing his options.

He knew that Bootsie must have gone too far, but he didn't know quite what to do yet.

"Now I understand you are having difficulty obeying your wife's command that you masturbate in front of your secretary, yes?

You want to hold onto an absurd ah, how do you say...image of yourself?"

Hans lit another cigarette and stood over Darrell.

Darrell thought of Thelma, and how sweet she was.

He loved that about her!

She was considerate and often played with his tie when she was talking to him.

He was father confessor to her when it came to boyfriend problems, and she made him feel really good...he didn't want to lose that!

And, of course he was up for a promotion at work, and Thelma was niece of one of the partners.

No one understood business, it seemed, but maybe Master Hans would.

Darrell looked up at Master Hans, who promptly boxed his right ear. His head felt as if he'd been hit with a frying pan.

"You must not look at me until I ask you to.

In a moment I will need a place to tap my ash, and then you will look up and open your mouth, but until then—"

Darrell had a feeling that it was going to be a long weekend!

By the time Bootsie came back to town a month later, Darrell was a different person.

He had learned to suck cock with amazing skill, and Hans had invited various men over to sample Darrell's fellatio tricks.

Hans had supervised Darrell's cleaning and scouring of the entire house, and had learned to mop a floor while wearing a leather straitjacket by using his mouth.

"I am quite pleased, Darrell.

Your mouth has learned to do many things. I will encourage your wife to continue your fellatio training with many different men, to make you even more proficient...because a male slave must learn to serve males!"

Darrell had been so horrified by the idea of being forced to suck dicks...just terrified, though it had aroused him to hear of other men's humiliation in the ChasteBois groups.

But the first time he'd had a dick in his mouth—Hans's penis—

Darrell had learned it wasn't that bad, and in fact, it felt more natural, really than servicing a clitoris...It was like slurping a hotdog!

Darrell had also learned to take a severe flogging with the blacksnake without "whining" which had been a complaint of Bootsie's for some time.

Darrell did still vehemently object when Hans "fisted" his ass, but he was beginning to get used to it.

Yes, and looked forward to licking the shit off Hans's fingers after a punishment.

Darrell had come quite a way in thirty days of training...

Darrell still was averse to being humiliated in front of his secretary...

Yes, but, after they drove Master Hans to the airport, Darrell admitted to Bootsie that although he hated the idea, he would do it to show his submission to her.

"I-I hated serving Hans at first." Darrell had said to Bootsie shamefacedly.

"But I began to understand why it was necessary, and I feel free-er knowing that I'm a more skilled and submissive slave. I can't really explain it, honey."