Chapter 3: The Game with the Butt

There were some facets of my life that I didn't necessarily want Peter to be a part of. However, I had to realize that you can't always plan life with a 15-year-old so well and that these youngsters haunt the house when they shouldn't be near it. So it happened that Peter finally met Ufuk at some point. Ufuk was one of my sports buddies and we were even quite similar, because we were both fitness fanatics and had been doing martial arts together for years. 

What drove him to my gym back then, however, was not my beautiful weight bench or the butterfly. His fur simply itched sometimes. He liked Fury and I had raised the old pommel horse especially for him, because Ufuk was a real giant. Two meters long and at least one meter wide. Well, the width may be exaggerated, but I was also quite a big and strong fox and still always felt small at the side of this muscle mountain.

Ufuk had his appointment with me when Peter had gone to a school event. Well, he wanted to go. However, he was gone just for 20 minutes, because there had been a burst water pipe in the auditorium. So, my foster pup stood in the living room doorway again at the wrong time and stared in amazement at the huge horse who, dressed only in a thong, knelt with his arms outstretched and Brehm's Animal Life on the backs of his hands on the small red carpet on which he, too, had had to prove his discipline before. 

He blinked and couldn't believe his eyes. No wonder: Ufuk, who according to his birth certificate was a Kirghiz, was not only oversized, but this horse also looked like a born actor of an Indian chief. He has since grown older, as we all have, but back then, at 33, he was simply beautiful. Black fur with a slight blue tinge all over him and a long mane hanging down his muscular dark back. His profile looked like that of Winnetou's grandson. 

Whenever I looked at Ufuk, I regretted that I was not gay. He regretted that too, by the way, but had given up trying to seduce me. Against Gisela's passionate full-body embraces, his muscular ass just couldn't win. I saw Peter in the doorway and just thought, "Fuck!" Hastily I called him to me, whereupon he also came directly, however, asked astonished, "Uncle Werner, who is that?" 

I introduced Ufuk, told the grinning giant to look straight ahead, and turned back to my foster pup, "Ufuk is my friend and sports buddy." Ufuk's soft giggle interrupted my attempt to explain, but I barked directly at him, "If you don't shut up, my friend, today is going to be terrible!" The black horse controlled himself, but looked undeniably cheeky. 

However, I first concentrated on Peter and explained to him the little games that Ufuk and I were playing together, "You see, my pup, these are adult games. That's what you do when you enjoy it. The only important thing is that both want to do it." "Ufuk wants to sit there like that?", asked the German shepherd pup doubtfully. "Yes, that's what he wants. He wants to let me boss him around a bit, tease me, be naughty, and later be lied down on the pommel horse quite voluntarily for punishment," I explained. "Voluntarily? He willingly lets himself be spanked?" 

The expression on my foster pup's face was more than just clear. For him, Ufuk wasn't quite right in the head. The big Kirghiz saw Peter's questioning face out of the corner of his eye and grinned to himself, "Nice explanation, Daddy!" Since I didn't want him to only confuse my pup even more, I silenced the black giant horse with a threat, "If there's no silence now, Ufuk, I'll put you on the massage bench for an hour before the beating! At least!" In shock, my friend dropped the book and pleaded, "Please don't, Master!" 

" Turn around and face the wall, put your arms straight up and shut up! You're on the edge, my friend, I mean it!", I threatened him in a serious tone, which he only answered meekly: "Yes, Master." The threat worked wonders, Ufuk stopped grumbling for the time being, because as much as he loved my pommel horse, he hated the strenuous exercise on the massage bench. I hadn't asked him to do this very often, but I was determined not to let him get away with any more disturbances.

I took a lot of time for my foster pup and explained him all sorts of things about the different inclinations of people. Man and woman, man and man, groping, doctor games, dominance and submission, all perfectly fine and almost normal. For Peter this was unbelievable, because you must not forget: Those were different times. In the 70s/80s, not everyone carried their sexual orientation and interests like a poster in front of them. Instead, the world sorted itself into punks, poppers, ecos and normal people. Most people worried about acid rain and believed that silly German pop music was a cultural revolution. 

Peter listened attentively, asked a lot of questions and now and then cast a cautious glance at Ufuk, who was kneeling motionless. One question, however, interested him very much, "Does Aunt Gisela know?" I was just thinking about the appropriate answer when I saw my other pupil collapse on the carpet with barely suppressed laughter. "Ufuk! You're due!", I barked and Ufuk struggled fearfully to straighten his arms. 

I explained to the German shepherd pup that although Gisela was outwardly quite a lady, her interests were basically similar to mine and that it was only because of this that I was able to put up with this wrinkled old piece of leather at all. I remained very vague in my hints, because I did not dare to explain that today. I didn't really understand it myself. After our very detailed conversation, I sent my slightly overwhelmed foster pup upstairs to his room. 

Afterwards I went with the meanwhile quite small-loud delinquent into the fitness room, whereby I locked the cellar door behind us. I did not want to have the curious nose of Peter at the keyhole, when I spanked my friend's backside. The hated massage bench I spared Ufuk in exchange for some extra strokes with the strap whip, because of course I had understanding for his behavior. 
Respected entrepreneur, educated citizen and patron of the arts Werner Feldhoff explains his spanking tendencies to his foster pup, while Sitting Bull kneels at his feet in a pink thong and stares at the wall - this situation was indeed quite strange. Ufuk and I ended the evening with a light green Veltliner. 

Peter sneaked himself conspicuously around the living room, staring every now and then at Ufuk, who sat quietly on his damaged butt and told me about the vintage car he was restoring. He had a small trucking company at the time and tinkered with cars in his spare time when he wasn't steeling his body. My friend smiled indulgently and at one point asked my foster pup, "Want to see?" The German shepherd pup nodded shyly and Ufuk willingly dropped his pants once again. He was neatly colorfully patterned. 

"Doesn't that hurt?", the pup asked in amazement, feeling very carefully for a particularly thick trace of the cane. "It sure does, pup. That, among other things, is the beauty of it." Suddenly, however, the black horse put an arm around Peter's waist, pulled him close and whispered something in his ear. My pup shook his head in disbelief, stared at me for a while and then finally walked away. I watched the whole thing with unease. If Ufuk had told him what I suspected, he would pay for it. I would make him pay for it - mercilessly!

My foster son coped well with the impressions of this evening. However, the next day he explained to me that he, Peter, had no fun at all in being spanked. So, I should not confuse him with one of my sporty buddies. I promised to never spank him for mere pleasure and we shook paws on it. Nevertheless, Peter and I clashed a short time later and I had to correct his behavior, because he had spoken badly about my old rottweiler girl. 

It was funny with him and Gisela, because although she looked the way she unfortunately did, Peter was not afraid of the old hag at all. He called her Aunt Gisela and obviously liked her. However, he had now called her a derogatory name when he spoke of her. I didn't let him get away with this disrespect, grabbed him, bared his butt and spanked him with my big paw. He clamored indignantly to himself and kicked, "This is unfair, Uncle Werner!" 

He squirmed like an eel and wriggled his legs. "Will you lie still, Peter! You deserve this! I won't tolerate such disrespect!" He continued to fidget and would not calm down. I unceremoniously threw him over my shoulder and dragged him into the kitchen, where I grabbed the wooden spoon. "Will you hold still!", I admonished him again, pushing him down on the kitchen table and hitting his pink bottom hard with the spoon. "But that's not fair!" he howled, and I straightened him out, annoyed, "What the hell is unfair about it?" Peter replied sniffling, "You talk about Aunt Gisela like that too!" Damn, that hurt. Yes. He was right, the stupid brat. I didn't always talk nice about my old choking snake. 

Nevertheless, I saw a difference, because after all, she was my girlfriend and knew how I meant it when I described her the way she was. That is, she would have known what I meant had she known what I was saying – you understand what I'm saying, don't you? Doesn't matter. In any case, Peter had to behave respectfully toward her. After I had explained this to him briefly and succinctly, I turned the German Shephard pup around again and hit him a few more times with the wooden spoon, which he accepted loudly complaining, but otherwise without resistance.

As always, when we had disagreed, I took my foster pup to the sofa to talk to him and comfort him a bit. It had not come quite bad for him, but these spoon hits on the bare butt cheeks still hurt and he liked it when I stroked his back and also his sore bottom a little after the punishment. However, we had hardly settled down when suddenly Gisela stood on the mat. I sighed a little - did everyone walk in and out of here as they pleased by now? Hadn’t I once had some privacy? Nevertheless, I greeted her affectionately, because I was always happy to see her. 

She pressed a wet kiss on me, stroked the fur behind Peter's ears and asked, "Did you have a fight?" "A little bit," I just answered and considered the matter settled, but I hadn't reckoned with my foster pup. He straightened up a bit and looked at me thoughtfully out of his soulful brown eyes. I suddenly saw a kind of wantonness flash in them. "He's not going to...", I thought, but before I could unobtrusively stuff a sofa cushion into my foster pup's mouth, he had already turned to my sweetheart and said, "We really disagreed, Aunt Gisela, and I still think it's a bit unfair that Uncle Werner spanked me."

I tried to keep Peter from telling on me by vigorously rubbing his back, but he seemed to want to know what our "similar interests" were all about. "I have to tell you something, Aunt Gisela," he began, playing innocent-honest. "I've spoken badly of you, and for that I'm very sorry. That's why Uncle Werner spanked me, and I'm sure it was the right thing to do." "You little hypocrite!", I thought to myself and kept pinching the traitor's small butt to maybe stop him, but in vain. 

He peeped a little, but hopped around on the sofa and eluded me by sitting up. Of course, Gisela overheard this, so she inquired curiously, "What did you say about me, my pup?" He sighed, but then answered with a rueful look, "I said you must be a zoological wonder because Uncle Werner always says you have a turkey neck, a horse face and a rhino bottom. Besides, he says anaconda, viper, or shocking snake to you - and yet these are all quite different species."

I groaned inwardly. Peter had really shortened our dispute and twisted it in his favor, but in the matter, he was right: I was talking badly in front of the German Shephard pup about the old hag at my side and that was not okay. Of course, my colorful descriptions were true, but what woman wants to hear that? Well, my Gisela certainly didn't. 

She smiled at the pup forgivingly and then said, "You're right, Peter. Uncle Werner doesn't really know zoology and he sometimes behaves badly. However, I don't think you should behave just as rudely because of that, and in that respect I'm sure it's all right if you got a few smacks on your bottom for it." Peter immediately agreed with her, he had never looked so sweet and well-behaved. 

"Yes, Aunt Gisela, you're right. I never want to do it again either, and I'm really sorry!" He looked at her curiously. And I was curious too, though in a different way. "I hope she doesn't come down on me in front of the boy," was all I could think, grinning nervously to myself. But as so often, I underestimated this rottweiler woman, because she only raised an eyebrow to her hairline, nodded at the pup in a half-friendly way, and eyed me coolly. 

Afterwards, she explained to us in an icy voice why she was here, "I thought that maybe you two would like to have a barbecue tomorrow evening. It's supposed to be nice again, maybe for the last time this year. I would have made salad for us and you could have gotten meat and coal, but if you behave so badly, Werner, I'm afraid it'll have to be cancelled. I'm leaving and won't be back until I'm sure you truly and sincerely regret it!"

Damn, that sounded very ominous in a promising way. I tried to get my beloved to stay and promised her a long shopping trip with stops at Douglas and Christ - in vain, because unfortunately she's not bribable, my good old lady. She rushed off, leaving Peter and me with somewhat dumb faces. The pup looked at me in horror and wailed, "I didn't mean to, Uncle Werner! I didn't mean for her to leave! I just wanted..."

I interrupted him, "Someone put a flea in your ear and you wanted to see what would happen. It's not so bad, little one. Gisela isn't as angry as she acts." "She seemed pretty mad, though," Peter said doubtfully. I pulled him close for a moment, stroked his back again reassuringly, and assured him that everything was all right. 

After that, however, I shooed him up from the sofa, "Let's go buy the barbecue stuff right away. We don't want to forget and be left without anything tomorrow. Then we'll really be in trouble. By the way, it's also possible that I'll get another guest towards evening - don't be surprised about that." He looked questioningly, but I refrained from explaining. Sometimes you could talk too much. 

On the way, I wondered which of her crazy police colleagues Gisela would probably set on me today. Dietmar was on vacation, fortunately. He was a preacher of the worst kind and always held my sins up to me at length. Each blow came spiced with a pious saying to me – so annoying! But Gunnar maybe, or Uwe. Both of them were experienced cane technicians who had already done a great job on my backside several times, because Gisela didn't let me get away with any impertinence. 

Sometimes she would lend a hand herself, but for the more serious offenses she preferred someone who had more strength and fewer scruples than she did to punish me. So, I was expecting a visitor. Sure enough, a green minna came down the street as Peter and I were coming home on our bicycles. I closed the door anyway. Gisela's helper was supposed to ring the bell, that was part of it. Unfortunately, I didn't manage to chase my foster pup upstairs before the bell rang. He dashed to the door, looked through the glass pane, let the door close, and came trundling up to me, somewhat scared. Police officers always reminded him that he was still on probation.

"There's a cop at the door, Uncle Werner. What does he want?" Peter asked quite upset. I turned him around, let my paw whiz on the seat of his pants only once, but very hard, and grumbled, "That's not a cop, it's a police officer, you disrespectful brat!" The German Shephard pup jumped forward in fright as my paw hit his butt, "Ouch!" However, since I did not hold him, he turned directly to me while briefly rubbing his behind and looking at me in amazement. 

"That's just one of Aunt Gisela's colleagues. I was expecting him, because we have something to discuss. Go to your room, I'm sure you still have homework to do," I explained to his questioning look and rather reluctantly Peter finally strode up the stairs. I didn't hear his door close at the top, though, so I sighed a little annoyed. Well, he would notice it at some point anyway.

The bell rang again. Long and persistent this time. I opened and looked, somewhat dumbfounded, at the tall, light grey wolf standing at the door. Eric the Viking?! Bloody hell! Peter was right. Gisela was indeed pissed. "Hello Eric," I greeted somewhat nervously and let him in. The uniformed wolf in his mid-thirties actually looked really Nordic and rightly bore his nickname. He was by far the strictest of Gisela's servants and looked at me piercingly with his ice-blue eyes.

"Mr. Feldhoff? Werner Feldhoff?" I nodded, quite the good citizen. "There is a complaint against you. You are alleged to have repeatedly seriously insulted and slandered a lady and also to have seduced a minor into doing the same. Do you have anything to say about this?" the grey police officer inquired of me and I pleaded guilty. Anything else would have cost me my barbecue tomorrow and only delayed the matter. 

Eric noted my confession matter-of-factly, "Then I'm afraid I'll have to arrest you now, Mr. Feldhoff." From the stairs I heard a horrified yip, whereupon I directly growled, "Peter! Off to your room! Or do I have to help you get going?" Dumbfounded, Eric walked down the hall and saw my foster pup cowering on the stairs in horror. "Is this the teenager?" he wanted to know, and a bad premonition came to me. The police officer finally said, "Unfortunately, I also have a complaint against this pup. I will therefore have to arrest him as well." 

I immediately understood what Eric had already imagined in his head. He deliberately dragged Peter into the game with that in order to be able to work on his backside as well, but I intervened directly, "Stop! Timeout! Not like that! This is my foster pup, Peter. He is not even 16 and NOT a playmate! Besides, he's going to his room right now and staying there before I pull the belt out of my pants!" Of course, I had directed the threat to the German Shephard pup, but despite that Peter was slow to rise. 

That changed abruptly when Eric looked up at the stairs and eyed him menacingly for a moment while saying, "I could do that for you. I just recently bought my belt. It is therefore still quite new and the leather is very firm. " Immediately my foster pup jumped up and hurried to his room. Not a second after Eric's last words, we heard the door slam and resumed our game.