A series of Lina/Heydrich drabbles wherein Heydrich suffers under the heel of his sweet, sadistic wife.

i.

It’s
their wedding night, and it’s not the first time they had sex –
they are not prudes after all. Lina is passionate in all things, not
just regarding politics, that’s what Heydrich loves about her. What
he adores. But now that he’s undressed her, carefully, piece by
piece just as he knows she likes it, and that he has undressed
himself, quickly, efficiently, and seeks to climb onto the bed,
between her spread legs he is met by a raised index finger like a
disobedient dog.

“What
do you think you’re doing?” she says. She’s lovely in her white
shift, the white long stockings. She’s not wearing panties. Her
thighs are spread enough he can see her cunt. His mouth is dry.

“I-,”
he says, taken aback.

She
moves her foot, pushes the blanket from the bed. It falls into a
small heap on the floor.

“Down,”
she says and he is perplexed to find him follow her command without
contradiction.

“Now
play with yourself,” she says when he has settled next to the bed
like a dog. “Show me how you stroke that pathetic little cock of
yours.”

ii.

Lina
laughs at him as he strokes his cock, a delicate little peal.

“Oh
Reini, is that it?” 

She
covers her mouth with her hand for a moment and then bursts into
laughter. 

“Is
that really all?” Somehow she manages to get the words out. 

He
strokes his dick faster, harder, his hand moving at a furious pace,
his cheeks burning at the sound of Lina’s giggles. His cock doesn’t
grow any larger but his hips are bucking up to meet his hand, if he
doesn’t stop soon he’s going to come. 

“Good
lord,” Lina says, with a palpable note of disgust when he takes his
hand away. He wants to reach out and touch her, even just on her
ankle maybe, but the weight of her disdain locks him in place. 

“That’s
really it,” she says. She flicks the head of his cock with her toe.
“Do you think I’d even feel it?” 

He
stares up at her, his pulse thrumming in his temples. His mouth gapes
open, he wants to say yes, but he can’t make a sound. 

“I
suppose you can try,” Lina says.  

iii.

Lina
has her bare heels up on the table of his back, he’s still in
uniform, on all fours before her with his eyes on the floor. He’s
not permitted to look. His arms are beginning to tremble slightly.

“Max’s
cock is so beautiful,” she sighs.

He
can hear the wet sound of her fingers as she plays with herself, the
smell of her cunt is heady, strong in the air, her toes are curling
and uncurling against him.

“He
filled me, oh god, oh so, so deep, Reinhard.” She gives a little
moan. “He’s such a good soldier, picking up on the duties you’re
unable to perform.”

All
of a sudden she kicks him hard, sending him sprawling off balance.

“Look
at me,” she barks.

Heydrich
looks up at his wife, her skirt around her waist and her fingers
buried in the sopping mess of her cunt, she draws them out and pulls
them apart so he can see the fluids strung between them, her juices,
Wünsche’s semen.

“We
were laughing about the ridiculous excuse for a prick you have
between your legs,” she says. “He could barely believe it you
know. I think maybe next time we should show him, hmmm?”

He
feels himself go pale and Lina sneers.

“We’ll
tie a little bow around it perhaps, just to make sure he can find
it.”

She
beckons him forward and he crawls obediently between her legs, the
curls of her pubic hair are matted sticky against the inside of her
thighs.

“Clean
me up.”

iv.

“You
remember this, Reini?”

She’s
holding the cookbook in both hands as though she’s about to strike
him with it. Truthfully he barely recalls the gift, he thinks perhaps
he even might have sent his adjutant to pick out some token for
her, there had been far more important matters for him to attend to
that year after all. 

Not
that it matters now. Thirty minutes later Lina has him stripped, his
hands bound behind his back and tied to one of the kitchen drawers.
His wrists are drawn up uncomfortably high and if he’s not careful
to keep him there the silverware drawer slides out to crack into the
back of his head. 

Lina
smiles as she ties the last knot in the cooking twine wrapped around
his stiff, red cock – a tight ring around the base of his erection,
around each of his balls which stand out tight and shiny with
pressure from his body. The twine winds cruelly around his shaft in a
lattice pattern, cutting in so his flesh bulges through like a
ballotine. 

She
makes a satisfied, appraising noise and picks up a meat mallet,
turning it from one side to the other. Reinhard forgets to breathe as
she taps the many pointed end against one of his balls, just
lightly. 

“You
like your meat tender, don’t you, darling?” she coos. 

v.

He
thought it might be over, his testicles aching, a heavy, sickening
throb of agony pulling up deep inside of him. She’s battered them
over and over for the last forty minutes, sometimes one brutal, solid
thwack that flattens his tortured balls against the kitchen tile in
one blow, sometimes a persistent tap tap tap that grows harder and
harder until he’s sobbing and begging.

“Please,
Lina, please please-” His voice cracking high and urgent, he knows
he can’t take one more hit and yet she keeps going, a tattoo that
feels like it’s turning his sack into one, deep, permanent bruise.

She
just smiles at him, mild and merciless as she lays the mallet aside.

“Poor
darling,” she says, stroking her fingertips across his swollen
balls before digging her nails in hard. He thinks he might throw up.

When
she goes to the kitchen cupboard, he knows she’s not done with him.

Lina
returns and puts two objects down on the ground in front of him. A
meat thermometer and a small jar of chilli paste. She’s humming the
Horst Wessel Lied as she unscrews the jaw and liberally coats the
long, metal skewer of the thermometer with paste. In an absent sort
of gesture she brings her fingers to his mouth and smears her fingers
clean there. Almost at once he feels his lips begin to tingle and
burn.  

“You
better keep nice and still now, Reini,” she warns as she steadies
his cock with one hand and beings to slowly push the thermometer down
into his urethra.

vi.

Lina
is ironing his shirts when he comes home. She never does that. They
have a maid for such tasks after all. It doesn’t bode well.

“I’ve
been thinking, Reini,” she says without looking up, “how long do
you think can I press the hot iron to your balls before you pass
out?”

Heydrich’s
tongue is sticking to the roof of his mouth. She can’t be serious
about that, can she?

“Nevermind,”
Lina says gleefully, “I guess we just have to find out.”