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The fire cast flickering light across the study walls. Reginald basked in the warmth. Every luxury had been curated specifically for the space, rich gold glinted from every surface and the musky leather scented the air. If the Umbrella Academy was Reginald’s kingdom, then this was his throne room. Within these walls he wasn't just King, but judge, jury, and even God. Excitement danced across his fingertips at the thought. Slowly the door creaked softly open. Reginald frowned and pulled out his pocket watch. “You are late,” he snapped. Klaus flinched, and something quickened in Reginald’s belly at the sight of those fearful brown eyes staring widely up at him. “Sorry Daddy.” Number Four whispered, looking down to stare at his feet. “I was sparring with Luther, and I lost track of the time.” “Did you now?” Reginald was careful to keep his voice carefully regulated as he suppressed his glee at the prospect of correcting this behavior. “And tell me, are you implying that our private sessions are less important than any other part of your training Number Four?” “No sir.” The boy didn't look up, didn't elaborate at all. Reginald frowned tightly. That insubordination wouldn't do. “Strip.” he commanded after a moment. “Leave on your underwear. I want everything else off, now.” Reginald watched with eager anticipation as Number Four’s slightly shaking fingers came up to slowly unfasten each button. He would have snapped at the boy to hurry up, if only he hadn't been enjoying the view of each inch of smooth skin slowly being revealed to him. No matter, he would simply add it to the punishment. Number Four needed to be aware that dallying was not going to be tolerated in any way. First the shirt slipped free of Klaus’s shoulders, revealing the wirey grace of the lean frame hidden beneath his uniform. The firelight caught on the ridges of smooth muscle in an enchanting dance of light and dark that Reginald couldn't help but admire. Creamy pale skin glowed golden, littered here and there with the darker evidence of their previous sessions. Reginald kept his hands folded on the desk, maintaining his composure as the boy carefully toed off the patent leather shoes, placing them carefully to the side. One by one, Klaus peeled off the knee high socks of his uniform, his toes digging into the soft carpet slightly as his bare feet touched down. The navy blue shorts puddled on the floor as he stepped out of them, muscles jumping slightly under Reginald’s intent gaze as Klaus bent at the waist to fold and place them to the side as well. The maroon briefs left very little to the imagination and Klaus’s hands practically twitched at the desire to cover himself. Reginald was almost disappointed that he didn't at least try, but Klaus turned back to face him, keeping his hands resting lightly on his thighs as he had been taught. The punishment for that failure was one of Reginald’s favorites. Maybe later he would do it anyway, he decided on a whim. “Get the stool.” Reginald said softly, reveling in the small wave of alarm that rippled across Klaus’s body. “Now.” Turning, Klaus moved reluctantly to the discreet cupboard placed to the side of the room. The stool was heavy, taller that Klaus’s waist and wide at the base. It was made of sturdy oak, and Klaus’s muscles strained beautifully as he pulled it in front of Reginald’s desk. Reginald reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and considered the contents carefully before making his choice. Klaus stood next to the stool with eyes closed and shoulders hunched slightly as he approached. Reaching out, Reginald lightly traced a finger down Klaus’s spine, earning a silent shudder from the boy. Reginald leaned in, tracing the sensitive outer edge of Klaus’s ear with his lips as he murmured. “Lean over the stool.” Klaus jerked reflexively, as though he had been on strung tight from the moment Reginald had given the order to retrieve the hated item of furniture. More than likely, he had been. “Please no,” he begged, words coming quickly and without thought, “I’m sorry I was late. Please don't make me.” The boys eyes widened as soon as he spoke, realizing what he had done. Reginald took a step back. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked, tone flat. “I’m sorry daddy!” Klaus cried, knees nearly buckling and eyes panicked as he tried to correct his error. “I didn't mean to, I swear!” Reginald drew back his hand delivered a stinging slap across Klaus’s face, hard enough to knock the boy from his feet. “Stand up, “ Reginald hissed over the pained cry as Klaus hit the floor. Klaus pulled himself to his feet, only to receive another hard blow to the other cheek, once again sending him to the ground. Reginald stepped forward, crushing Klaus’s slender fingers with the unforgiving sole of his shoe. Klaus let out a high pitched whine as Reginald allowed his body weight to settle on the delicate digits. “You do not question me. Do you understand?” “Yes daddy! Yes! I’m sorry!” Klaus nearly wailed from the floor, cheeks flushed red as he pleaded. “I won't do it again, I won't! I'm sorry!” Reginald reached out to grip a fist full of curls, dragging Klaus up by his hair and over the seat of the stool. Klaus’s fingers clung instantly to the thick oak legs, as if they would offer him some sort of protection from what was coming. “You're only making it worse for yourself Number Four. Stop that pathetic sniveling immediately.” Instantly, Klaus pinched his lips shut, trying to suppress the pained cries as Reginald forced him harshly into position. Once Reginald was satisfied that Klaus wasn't going to attempt to move, he trailed his fingers lightly down the boy’s back. Hooking his thumbs into Klaus’s underwear he slipped them down slowly, revealing flesh to himself as if he were unwrapping a particularly cherished gift. Reginald couldn't help but to admire the plush roundness of his backside. It had been longer than usual since they had done this, and for the most part, Klaus’s ass and thighs were deliciously unmarked. Reginald ran a possessive hand up the creamy skin, reveling in the dancing tension of the muscles beneath his hand. Klaus’s legs were stretched to their limit, tiptoes barely able to touch the floor. The angle of the seat forced Klaus’s ass to thrust out, in an effort to maintain his grip on the hold bar on the opposite side. Reginald reached down and secured the two thick leather straps to Klaus’s ankles, spreading them wide with the base of the stool and pinning his legs in place. The position left the boy deliciously vulnerable, completely exposed to him. Reginald could feel the bulge in his pants growing tighter as he contemplated the decadent array of possibilities ahead. “I’m very disappointed in you Number Four.” he spoke at last, hand reaching out to knead the cheek of Klaus’s ass firmly. “Tell me, why are you being punished?” Klaus’s voice was strained as he spoke, and the sound of it sent a shiver of pleasure through Reginald’s groin. “For breaking the rules, Daddy.” With a wicked crack, Reginald’s hand made swift contact with Klaus’s left thigh, causing the younger boy to jerk with a cry. “Be specific, Number Four!” Reginald ordered. “Your stubbornness is only drawing this out further. We haven't even begun on your actual punishment yet.” “For being late, and for talking back.”There were tears in Klaus’s voice as he finally answered, though as yet none had actually fallen. The boy was surprisingly stubborn with his tears, considering the amount of carrying on that he did otherwise. Reginald took great pleasure in forcing them out any way. “Good. I don't know why you insist on making this harder for yourself than it needs to be Number Four.” Reginald tutted. “It's your own fault that this is happening. If you would only obey the instructions you were given…” Reginald trailed off into contemplative silence for a moment before stepping away from the stool and picking up the riding crop. “Ten for insubordination, ten for tardiness.” he decided. “Count them out. Every time you lose track I will start over. If you remove your hands from the hold bar I will add ten more. Do you understand?” “Yes daddy.” Klaus whimpered. Without warning Reginald let the riding crop flash out against Klaus’s right ass cheek with a sharp crack. Klaus’s entire body jerked away from the impact, but he didn't lose his grip on the bar. Reginald reached out to dig his fingers roughly into the bright red mark. “One” Klaus choked out after a moment. Again, Reginald let the crop fly, this time catching the skin just above the back of the boys knee, careful to keep it just high enough not to be seen under the uniform shorts. Klaus nearly lost grip of the bar for a moment as he cried out, body arching away from the harsh contact. “Two.” he gasped. “Be careful, boy.” Reginald smirked, tapping the crop lightly against the welt. “You don't want to let go of that bar, do you?” Another stinging slap and a bright red weal appeared along Klaus’s inner thigh. Reginald ignored the panting count of three. “Unless you do.” The blows were coming quicker now. “Four. Five. Six.” Klaus shook slightly even between blows now, as he fought to maintain his posture against the unforgiving oak frame. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, but so far he had managed to keep his composure even as the red welts multiplied. Reginald frowned slightly. That wouldn't do. “I think you like it.” Reginald said at last, easing up on the pace. He softly ran the edge of the riding crop along Klaus’s back and down lower until he was lightly tapping the tight furl of hidden muscle there. Klaus let out a moan, tensing up, but there was nowhere for him to go as Reginald traced the crop over his perineum and across his delicate balls. “I think you love it, actually, ” Reginald continued. “Otherwise, why be so stubborn? Why purposely disobey the,” crack, the crop moved, quick as a viper to pepper strikes against Klaus’s inner thighs, and Klaus screamed shrilly at the unexpected rain of blows, “simple,” crack “rules, ” crack “I’ve,” crack “given,” crack “you?” “I’m sorry!” Klaus wailed, knuckles white from his tight grip on the wooden bar. His head hung low as broken hitches caught in his chest. “Count, Number Four!” Reginald barked, reaching out again to deliver another stinging blow. “T-twelve.” Klaus sobbed, tears finally leaking down his cheeks. Reginald brought the crop down again, altering blows along each side of the globe of Klaus’s perfect bottom. “Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen” Klaus cried, gasping pitifully with each blow. Reginald aimed his next blows lower sending stinging welts across the boy’s bound calves. “Seventeen! Eighteen! Nineteen! Twenty!” Klaus wailed against the final few blows. He was sobbing outright now, even as Reginald tossed the crop on to the plush carpet. “Hush now boy.” Reginald pinched an unmarked bit of skin, earning another low sob. “It wasn't as bad as all of that, ” he admonished. Klaus’s cries slowly receded into whimpers as Reginald brushed his hands over the purplish red marks littering Klaus’s skin. “You're so beautiful like this.” he murmured. “I should take a picture. I could keep it on my wall for everyone to see. Would you like that?” Klaus didn't respond, eyes clenched shut as he panted, limbs shaking in their confinement as he so obviously tried to fight for control of his tears. “Or maybe,” Reginald continued, voice sharp with danger, “I could call your siblings in to see you. To see what happens when you disappoint me, when you don't meet the expectations that I set, when you disobey.” Reginald’s voice dropped an octave, and his fingers dug again into sensitive skin. Klaus only whined, high and weak, in response. Reginald considered him for a moment, lips tightening in anger. “Have it your way.” Walking around his desk, Reginald made his way to the intercom set into the wood. “Pogo.” he spoke evenly, watching Klaus as the boy stiffened, turning his head to stare at Reginald with pleading eyes. “Yes Sir?” Pogo’s voice was oddly metallic through the crackle and pop of the intercom speaker. “Gather up the chil-” “Please, no.” Klaus moaned, struggling slightly, as if to escape his bindings, but Reginald noticed with satisfaction that he didn't release the hand bar. Smart boy. “Please don't. I’ll do whatever you want. Please.” “Disregard that, Pogo.” Reginald ordered, before flicking his intercom back off. Reginald crouched down in front of Klaus’s body. With a sigh, he twisted his fingers into the boys hair and lifted his head, forcing it up at a painful angle until Reginald could look into Klaus’s eyes. Desperation shone from their watery depths. “You say that as if you wouldn't have already Number Four,” he said conversationally, allowing a tiny touch of disappointment to shine through. Klaus dropped his eyes. “Pity.” Reginald said with a sigh, releasing Klaus’s’ hair and allowing the boys head to fall back against the stool. “It doesn't have to be like this, you know.” Reginald said with mock regret as he pushed himself effortlessly to his feet. “If you would just obey me, this could be so much easier on you. You really do do this to yourself Number Four.” Klaus whined softly as the buckles around his ankles were removed, leggs sagging instantly. “Desk.” Reginald ordered. “Hands and knees.” As Klaus pushed himself carefully to his feet, Reginald could see the boy’s legs trying to buckle beneath him. “If you fall, I will drag you there.” He commented idly as he turned away and moved to the cupboard himself. By the time Reginald found what he had been looking for, Klaus had climbed up on the desk and hidden his face in his arms, even as he presented himself. “Good boy.” Reginald patted Klaus’s flank, earning a shudder. Reginald drizzled some of the slick lubricant over Klaus’s hole, roughly working a bit into the tight opening, but not bothering to prepare Klaus beyond that. The boy had certainly taken his cock enough times by now, he didn't need it. He didn't bother to remove his own clothing, simply opening his pants and pulling himself out. Reginald took a moment to stare down at the already wrecked form beneath him, mouth watering at the sight. The welts had begun to deepen in color and several would be leaving behind bruises. Reginald couldn't remember the last time he had been quite so aroused. Klaus’s legs trembled already with a heady mix of fear and pain. Even his pucker tightened as Reginald watched, his mind and body fighting to relax when all he wanted to do was hide. It was intoxicating. Reginald lined himself up with the knotted pucker and slowly forced himself through the tight ring of muscle as Klaus gasped and panted beneath him. Reginald thrust shallowly, feeling each inch opening up to him as he bullied his way further and further into the boy’s body. Klaus let out a long low moan that had Reginald thrusting in faster than he had intended, harder than he should have. It would be inconvenient if something tore. Reginald wasn't willing to be without his favorite toy for however long it took for him to heal properly. He forced himself to slow, smoothly thrusting and feeling each inch give in under the onslaught. Finally he was fully seated, and Reginald stared down at the boy beneath him. Klaus’s breaths came in shallow, pained gasps and despite his attempts to hide them, Reginald could see the tears streaming from his eyes again in silent rivulets. His hole stretched, red and obscene around Reginald’s cock. With a twisted little smile, Reginald reached and grabbed Klaus’s curls tightly in his fist, pulling back the boy’s head as Reginald began to pump into him. Klaus gasped with each thrust, head tipped backwards and throat bared. The huffing little whimpers he let out as Reginald aimed for his prostate were like music to the older man. “I’m going to make you come today Number Four.” Reginald leaned forward to purr into the boy’s ear as he aimed a particularly vicious thrust directly into the tender bundle of nerves. “Would you like that?” Klaus shook his head slightly, letting out a high pitched cry as Reginald leaned forward to pinch viciously at one of his exposed nipples with the hand not already twisted into dark curls. “That's not the proper answer Number Four.” Reginald growled, leaning back to slap the boy’s already abused bottom. “What do you say?” “Thank you daddy!” Klaus cried with a hiccuping sob. “Good.” Reginald set a punishing pace, slamming into Klaus’s prostate again and again as he reached around to rub the boy’s thickening cock. After only a few minutes, Klaus came with a whimper, shooting milky white semen across the expensive leather and mahogany desk. Reginald groaned deeply as he felt the pulsating of Klaus’s body around him. Using the rough pull of the boy’s hair as leverage, he forced Klaus back again and again, reveling in the whimpers and moans as Reginald pounded into oversensitized flesh. Finally, with a final hard slam of flesh, Reginald’s orgasam rolled over him, hard enough to see stars as he emptied himself into Klaus’s shaking body. After a moment that lasted forever, Reginald pulled away and tucked himself back into his trousers with steady hands before moving to sit in his chair to admire the scene before him. Klaus was completely wrecked, legs trembling as he fought to keep himself up on his knees. A thin trickle of cum dripped from the reddened ring of his fucked open hole. Reginald tisked, using his fingers to scoop the cum up and push it back where it belonged. “Keep it in Number Four.” he reprimand. Klaus only whined in response as Reginald’s fingers pressed into him further, enjoying the feel of Klaus’s open, oversensitive body. “Look at the mess you've made, you ungrateful child.” Reginald remarked, not letting up as he began to finger Klaus in ernest, reaching deeper to knead at the boy’s prostate. Klaus keened, back arching as he tried to pull away. Reginald stilled him with a hard pinch to the back of the knee. “What should we do about that, hm?” Reginald asked, voice smooth and low as he kept his steady rhythm into Klaus’s body. “The disgusting mess you've made all over my desk?” “Should I have you clean it up? You didn't use that mouth for anything else useful tonight.” Reginald murmured. Klaus moaned, tense and deep. Nearly there, Reginald thought with a smirk. “That's what I should do, I should make you lick every single drop up, until my desk is clean and your belly is full of your own cum. You would like that wouldn't you Klaus?” Reginald savored the wretched whimper that broke free, the way Klaus’s hips began to move, almost on their own. Not away, not now, but towards seeking the feeling of too-much-pleasure that Reginald was providing. “I know you would. The taste of yourself on your lips while I kept fucking you, just like this, until you were mad with it. Until you couldn't remember anything else except the taste of cum in your mouth and my fingers in your ass. I could keep you there, for hours and hours if I wanted to.” With a clever flick of his fingers, Reginald hit his prostate just right and then Klaus was shaking as he came again and again. Thick streams of white splattering across the desk as his ass clapped down on Reginald’s still moving fingers. For a moment Reginald wished he was younger, that he could summon up the ability to come twice or even three times within the hour. That he could take full advantage of the gift crying and shaking on the table as Klaus came down from another crashing orgasam. If wishes were raindrops the Sahara would be an ocean. Reginald removed his fingers, earning another moan as the movement milked another small spurt of cum from the boy’s prostate. “Look at you.” Reginald sneered, reaching for his handkerchief and cleaning his fingers. “Pathetic. You love it. You love this. You deny it, but it's true. You are nothing but a greedy little whore, begging for my fingers, my cock. You are lucky to have me around to take care of these freakish needs of yours Number Four. Not everyone would be as understanding as I am.” Reginald regarded his soiled handkerchief for a moment before tossing it in the garbage. It was ruined now. Reginald turned and began to walk out of the room. “Get yourself together and get to bed. We have an early training session tomorrow,” he spoke over his shoulder, mind already whirling through the next days itinerary. “Oh, and Number Four?” He turned at the door, looking back at the tear streaked boy still spread out across the mahogany. “Don’t forget to clean up the desk.”