Date: Wed, 11 Aug 2004 15:36:34 -0400
From: carl5de@netscape.net
Subject: OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 10

OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 10

Copyright 2004 by Carl Mason

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the author.  Comments on the story are
appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl5de@netscape.net.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between a young adult
male and young male teenagers.  Nevertheless, "Out of the Rubble" is
neither a strictly "suck and fuck" exercise nor is it a story that focuses
on the "love of adults for the young"...often without sex or with the mere
suggestion of sex.  If you are looking for these types of erotic fiction,
there are fine examples of each on Nifty.  Something slightly different is
required here.

However based on real events and places, "Out of the Rubble" is strictly
fictional.  Any resemblance to actual events, or locales, or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  Further, this is homoerotic
fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature,
adults.  If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in
power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would
create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally,
remember that maturity generally demands that anything other than safe sex
is sheer insanity!


PART 10

(Revisiting the End of Part 9)

As Andreas waited - the canoe unpacked - the only storm that he sensed was
a weight that pressed increasingly on his heart.  What had he done?  He had
pursued another human being whom he had sensed was gay.  He had offered
that human being his love.  Despite all the pain and fear that it entailed,
that love had been accepted - accepted by a young man who was just coming
out of his own "valley of the shadow of death."  The "simple truth,"
however - whatever his feelings for Rolf - was that he loved Sam.
Seventeen year olds...

(Continuing Our Story : To Do No Harm)

As they washed up on the morning following the boys' return to Tieferwald,
Andreas asked if he might speak with Sam at some length and privately.

"Problems, Big Guy?" Sam had asked.

"Yeah..." had come Andreas's typical adolescent reply...and then more
atypically, "I need to talk.  Can we get together soon?"

Affectionately blowing lightly on his ear, Sam replied, "Well, baby, you
know that when it comes to my time and energy, you're first in line.  Why
don't you join me for lunch today?  I'll tell my secretary that I might be
a little late returning to the office.  Is that ok?"

His sunny grin reflected in the bathroom mirror , Andreas replied, "I like
it when you call me 'baby,' Sam.  Yeah, that's fine."  With that, Andreas
twisted his neck and bent backwards, giving him a quick kiss before he
headed for one of his favorite rooms...the kitchen.

As he ambled across the City park shortly after 1200 hours (12:00 pm),
Andreas spotted Sam sitting in one of his favorite spots, the ruined old
shell where his lover had first discovered him so many months before.
Leaning back against the pillar against which he had once leaned, Sam
raised his arm in greeting and motioned for the youngster to join him.

"Some day we're going to restore this park, Andreas...the trees and flower
beds and walkways, maybe even the statue that once stood here.  I can see
it filled with happy people, strolling in the sun, pushing baby
carriages...little kids chasing puppies.  But that's not what you wanted to
talk to me about, is it?" his Captain asked.

Shyly nodding in the negative - and eagerly accepting the sandwich that Sam
proffered - Andreas immediately launched into a story of his Uncle Erich.
It seems that although Uncle Erich had been a history professor at the
University in the heavily German city of Pressburg [today's Bratislava, the
capital of Slovakia], several of his friends had been medical doctors.  In
their never-ending arguments about ethical questions, they had often talked
about the "Hippocratic Oath" which binds physicians to do no harm to their
patients.  Andreas allowed that he saw that as a pretty good idea, but that
it didn't seem to a sufficient rule to live by.

"Why's that, Stud?" Sam had asked.

On saying that he felt a man ought to leave the world a little better place
than he had found it rather than simply avoid harming anyone, Andreas's
face suddenly grew sad.  He looked...almost old.  Suddenly, the youth
stopped and looked beseechingly at his mentor.  If 17 year old males found
it easy to cry, he would have been sobbing on Sam's shoulder.  As it was,
all of the pain that he had experienced - and given - on his wondrous
canoeing adventure in southern Bavaria poured out in a torrent of words.
He told Sam that he had known that Rolf was having a hard time adjusting to
civilian life after his experiences as an SS Panzer soldier and that this
was made harder by having a devil on his shoulder.  That is, he had
suspected from the beginning that Rolf was gay.  Remembering how admitting
that he was himself gay had just about torn him apart, he could not believe
that he had pushed Rolf into gay sex during the trip.  He had WANTED him so
badly that he BURNED!  Tears in his eyes, he recounted Rolf's reactions -
even though the boys were now talking again.  Worse, he added, he had made
love to him at the same time that he loved Sam.  Instead of avoiding harm
and, perhaps, making things a little better, he had hurt all three of
them...Rolf, Sam, and himself.

"I'm still a real Scheisskopf [shit-head], Sam.  Worse, I don't know what
in hell to do now!"

Realizing that he had an actual problem on his hands, Sam immediately
dropped his earlier "light" approach and spoke seriously with his charge.
Looking into the youth's eyes for a moment, he said, "You're no
Scheisskopf, Andreas; you never were, and I doubt that you ever will be.
You've already taken the first two steps in cleaning up this mess.  In
fact, you may already have a plan."

In answer to the expected "How's that" question, Sam went on to point out
that Andreas was already being honest with himself and with him.  Further,
he had admitted that he didn't know what to do about the problem.  "That's
the beginning of wisdom," he said with a smile.  "Now you're ready to do
something about it!  What do you think?  What's possible?  Anything that
SHOULDN'T be attempted?"

Andreas, who obviously had been wracking his brain over the problem,
immediately suggested two things.  First, he probably shouldn't push Rolf
sexually, at least for the time being.  Things were too unstable.  Later
on?  Well...  Secondly, he didn't think that Ehrhardt should be involved,
at least at this time.  They were War buddies - and the SS and the HJ held
a very narrow attitude about "fooling around."  There was no way of knowing
whether Ehrhardt would be as flexible with Rolf has he had been earlier
with Andreas.  If Ehrhardt began exploring why Rolf was upset and Rolf said
the wrong thing, the results could be disastrous...for everyone concerned.

Nothing that he tended to agree as regards Ehrhardt - though they should
probably both keep their eye on Rolf for the time being - Sam asked if
Andreas were saying that having sex was bad.

"No, of course not!" Andreas asserted vehemently.  "It only BECOMES bad
when you hurt someone else - maybe by"using" them - or hurt yourself.
There's another problem, Sam.  I really do love Rolf.  It's just that I
don't love him the way I do you.  What about that?"

"Before I answer, are you open to a suggestion?" Sam interjected.  On being
told to go ahead, Sam noted that the two boys had a lot in common, for
example, outdoor activities, physical fitness, and sports.  Just because
they had gotten their fingers (or something like that) a little singed on
the canoe trip, Andreas shouldn't back off.  "If you ARE his friend, BE his
friend!" he advised.

As regards the earlier question they needed to talk about a little
distinction between "loving" and "being in love with."  Unfortunately, Sam
had a big-wig coming in from Nuremberg and needed to get back to the
office.  If it were ok, they'd continue their discussion tonight.  Sam
paused and added, "Damn, Big Guy!  I DO love you so!"

Andreas grinned and simply replied, "Me, too, Sam."

The discussion in question was held during the evening.  Later, shortly
after they had stripped and slipped into bed, Sam drew Andreas's body
closer to him.  Nibbling on the back of the neck and grinding his crotch
into the boy's backside, he said seductively, "I was talking to a pretty
girl this afternoon and have something kinda fun to show you.  Interested?"

Needless to say, Andreas immediately rolled over and, giving Sam an "I know
you've kidding, but I'll bite" stare, sarcastically asked, "Y-E-A-H ?"

Sam rose, came over to Andreas's side of the bed, and roughly seized the
boy's cock (already at half-mast!) which he used to "help" him to "rise."
"Come over here with me!" he commanded, using the teen's stiff eight-incher
to lead him over to a large, overstuffed chair by the window.  "Turn around
and bend over!"  Picking up a conveniently placed jar of lubricant and
heavily lubing both his cock and the boy's anus, he then sat down, telling
Andreas slowly to back up between his widespread legs and begin to sit down
on his lap.  "Daddy wants baby to sit on his lap," he crooned in a comical
sing-song voice.  Placing his hands on the sides of Andreas's hips, he
guided the boy down and to the very tip of his erect cock.  As the
youngster's anus contacted his rock-hard, dripping sword, Andreas gasped
and managed to choke out, "God, I've got to meet that girl!"  He then
enthusiastically positioned his hands on the heavy arms of the chair and
slowly, athletically lowered himself until he felt Sam's pubes beneath him.
Leaning slightly forward, Sam ran his tongue over as much of the boy's
spine as he could reach.  Simultaneously, he repeatedly raked his finger
nails over the muscles of the lad's powerful thighs which were expanding
and contracting as he rode Sam's cock.  Sensually, he raked them across the
boy's tight stomach before forcefully twisting his nipples.  To add insult
to injury, Sam suddenly bit down hard on Andreas's right trapezius muscle!
"AH, SHIT, SAM!" the boy howled, "AH, SHIT!"  Harder and harder, faster and
faster, he rode Sam's sword which was matching him thrust for thrust.  As
Sam began literally slamming the lad's hunky body down on his cock,
Andreas's face and the swelling cords in his neck gradually tightened and
turned a bright red.  Finally, able to stand no more, his mouth open and
gasping for air, he threw his thick neck backwards and screamed,
AH-H-H-H-H-H, SAM!  YES!  YES!  OH, Y-E-S!  Both young men held on for dear
life as their bodies spasmed repeatedly and Sam's cum was propelled deep up
into his lover's body.

When their pounding hearts no longer promised to tear their chests apart,
Sam helped the boy to rise and stand immediately before him.  Steadying a
still very shaky young man, his hands tightly grasping the boy's beautiful
cheeks, he lovingly licked the remnants of a massive orgasm from a cock
that was still as hard as steel!

"Hell, Sam, I've really got to meet that girl!" Andreas panted.

(Photo Shoot)

     The Newest (Oldest?) Game in Town

"Have you ever met the delightful 'Herr Schmidt, Rolf?" Andreas asked as
the boys kicked a ball back and forth on the back grass.

"Nah, who's he?" Rolf responded.

"He's one of three or four photographers around town who are making a lot
of money taking pictures and selling them to the military and rich old
farts up in Frankfurt.  He tried to sell them in Cologne, but the Brits
kicked him out of their Zone.  Ha!  It's one of the few 'growth industries'
in Germany!"

"What kind of pictures?" Rolf persisted.

"You know," Andreas leered, "THOSE kind...boys, girls...HOT!"

"Oh," Rolf responded with a disgusted look.  "Who would do something like
that - and why?  I sure as hell wouldn't!"

"You don't have to, Rolfie!  No one HAS to.  Let me grab a couple of Cokes
from Sam's private stock and I'll tell you about it."

We rejoin the boys who have put away the football and are seated under one
of Tieferwald's rare trees at the back of the grassed area.  Swigging their
Cokes, they've been talking for several minutes. Andreas is speaking.

". . . and, you know, it helps to have a few Marks in your pocket!
Besides, I don't mind if it's a nude shoot.  It kinda turns me on and,
besides, I like to show off my build.  It may not be as fantastic as yours,
but Schmidt says I'm his best model.  Actually, I think I am," he added,
grinning.  "Since I am valuable to Schmidt, he doesn't say a word when I
say I won't be photographed with girls - or other guys.  It's strictly
'solo' work for me - no sex, no recruiting, and no work with kids.  I agree
with you on that one: It's disgusting - and just plain wrong!  I team up
only with guys our age and some in their early 20s.  A few of the soldiers
who have returned are really built!"

"But, Andy, you say you only work alone.  How about the 'Dead Kraut'
pictures?" Rolf asked.

"Well, there's big money in those shots and, besides, the other guys in the
pics are just there.  Nothing sexy is going on.  Schmidt found three burned
out tanks way back in the forest that the Americans haven't picked up - a
monster of a Tiger II and a couple of those puny Shermans.  Soldiers who
weren't in combat will pay a pile of money to have a picture that includes
them with a Panzer Faust [bazooka - an anti-tank weapon operated by one or
two soldiers] and some 'dead Krauts' hanging out of the turret and lying on
the ground.  The only bad thing about it is having to get into those bloody
uniforms, but...you know..."

"Ok, Andy, but what about posing in the nude?  How in hell can you stand
people looking at you...that way?" Rolf persisted.

"As I told, you Rolf, it's money and it turns me on.  Besides not all of
the work is in the nude.  I've posed in some super sportswear and some
FANTASTIC clothes that they brought in from Paris and the States!  Man, I
would have given my right nut to have walked out of there with a couple of
the shirts and a pair of those jeans!"

"You mean that you have a choice of working clothed or in the nude," Rolf
asked...with just a trace of a hopeful note in his nervous voice.

"No, not really," Andreas answered, a bit reluctantly.  "Unless you have
something that I don't know about, the clothes usually come with your first
or second shoot.  Then the pressure is on to pose in the nude."

Grimacing, Rolf yawned conspicuously and asked, "Do you really trust
Schmidt?"

"Nah, he's a pervert!  I once gave him permission to clip a little hair out
of my crack and he ended up pawing my balls!  I yelled at him and he hasn't
done it again.  That's all I ask."

"You spoke about a lot of money.  Do the models get it?

"Ha!" Andreas exploded derisively, "No way, but I get my fair share.  I'm
his best!" he bragged.  "Most of the money goes to the fat cats who make
everything happen.  You know...  You have to have cash, equipment, and safe
locations for filming.  Schmidt has several - a shelled-out village south
of here, a couple of places in the Steinerwald, and some places where the
MPs [The Military Government was the legal authority in Germany at this
time.] just don't show up -

some ruins in the city, a couple of houses, and a few places along the
river.  I guess they get paid not to."

Going right for the jugular - the point that was really disturbing him -
Rolf reminds Andreas that he has said that people are free to say "No" to
the whole business and just walk away from it.  "That may be true for me,
Andy," he argues. "I have a nice place to live, good food, and decent
clothes."  Looking directly at Andreas, he adds, "And I have some great
friends!"  He continues, "Going to school, I even have some hope that a
dumb SS-jock can learn how to spell 'cat' and get a job in the Germany
that's coming.  Still, it doesn't seem to me that it's true for most people
in this town.  Come on, Andy!  Those few Marks that are 'nice to have in
your pocket' mean having a thin soup on the table for most Germans.  How
are they 'free' to turn down a handful of coins - when it means doing
things that they find disgusting?  You said that most of the models are
straight...just like everybody else.  What happens when they're told to
fuck another guy?"

Without speaking, Andreas looks at Rolf intently for a moment...with
newfound respect.  'Maybe I - and some other people - have been selling
this guy short,' he thinks.  Clearing his throat, he answers honestly:
"I've thought a lot about that question, Rolfie - and the truth is that I
don't have a really good answer.  If I were in their place, I guess that I
would do what I had to, at least most of the time.  Maybe they're not
REALLY 'free' to say 'No.'  As I see it, much the same is true when we're
talking about providing kids for sex with really OLD officers, Military
Government types, or big coal men up in the Ruhr.  But are we going to deny
ALL people the opportunity to put that 'thin soup' on the table just
because some people find one act or another 'disgusting'?  I just don't
know.  Sure, some laws are necessary...like laws against murdering people.
I DO think, however, that the Fuehrer was dead wrong.  It's not up to the
group to decide the questions we've been talking about.  It's up to the
individual."

"Tell you what, Rolfie," Andreas continues, I've got a couple of photo
shoots next week.  Would you like to come along - as my friend and strictly
as an observer...just to see what's happening?  Maybe, that would help you
better make decisions for yourself, whatever they turn out to be?  And,
say, friend, it's perfectly ok by me if you say, 'No thanks.'"

"Man, you sure don't talk like an SS Sargent!" Rolf answers.  "Yeah!  Ok!
You're my friend, Andy - and a damned good one.  It's nice finding someone
who...respects you.  You know...doesn't just put you down because you wore
a certain uniform.  I don't think modeling is for me, but I'd like to see
more...from the inside...as long as I don't have to DO anything!" he adds
with a grin.  "Just tell me when."

'Well, Rolf's going to get a good look at the game,' Andreas thought.
'Schmidt's got a 'Dead Kraut' plus 'character study' shoot lined up with an
American, and there's a rich German who wants to see me in a simulated
dungeon shoot.  I won't do the real thing, but I think I can give him some
stuff that he can beat off to.  So...'

     On with Business

Shoot #1.  On Monday afternoon, Herr Schmidt picked the boys up at Sam's
house and drove them to a clearing in the Steinerwald by roads that Andreas
and Rolf never knew existed.  The camouflage had already been removed from
the burned out hulk of a monstrous Tiger II tank.  ('If only we had more of
them,' Rolf thought, 'but they were wasted in the Battle of the Bulge.  My
God!  Am I actually criticizing the Fuehrer?!'  He shuddered.)  As they
stepped into the clearing, Rolf's eyes just about bulged out of their
sockets!  Two naked couples were being photographed while engaged in gay
sex; one, in straight sex.  One beautiful, if somewhat effeminate, young
man was being photographed in the nude by a clearly aroused older man with
a camera that was more than he knew how to operate.

Walking over to the Tiger, Andreas greeted two other young men whom he
seemed to know and was introduced to an American PFC by Herr Schmidt.  The
Germans climbed into battle torn and stained uniforms and boots, Andreas
omitting the tunic and undershirt, but wearing a Death's Head cap and ear
phones .  After he had been dabbed with some artificial blood, the youth
promptly climbed up on the tank and posed as if he had been machine gunned
as he attempted to flee the turret.  His magnificent torso and arms
gleamed...spectacularly.  The other two men sprawled out on the
ground...grotesquely.  The Private (First Class!) slung the bazooka on his
shoulder like a rifle and smiled...fiercely.  Several pictures were taken
by Herr Schmidt's photographer who complied with small changes suggested by
the American.  (One involved the PFC's resting his boot on the back of one
of the "slain" soldiers.)  The PFC expressed thanks and great delight,
saying that "Dad" would be pleased.  That was it.  Part A of the first
shoot was finished.  Herr Schmidt, Andreas, and Rolf piled into Herr
Schmidt's car and left immediately for the river.  Rolf looked at Andreas,
raised his eyebrows, and blew air out through his lips.  Andy only grinned.

Arriving at a secluded copse directly on the River Main, our trio
discovered that "Daddy" had been kept waiting and was fuming.  (Both
Andreas and Rolf immediately smelled an officer, probably inexperienced and
very full of himself.)  He loudly commanded Andreas to strip and ordered
that he be rubbed down with a light oil.  When Andreas was ready, the
officer rather lost it.  (Rolf was almost in hysterics - and Andy wasn't
far behind!)  Fumbling badly - on occasion, actually drooling slightly - he
set about exhaustively "inspecting" the young German, managing to touch
every part of him that could conceivably be touched.  Barking imperially
that he would take the pictures personally, he grabbed the photographer's
Technicolor-capable camera that probably cost thousands (of U.S. dollars)
on the Black Market.  Herr Schmidt nearly fainted.  His "character study"
consisted of about 50 pics of Andy set against trees and the river - a few
straight shots, most mildly pornographic.  (He was so stressed that he even
forgot to order Andy to become erect!)  After Andy had toweled off and
dressed, the car was loaded and roared off in the dust.  Part B of the
first shoot was history.  When they reached home, slightly richer for their
investment of time and artistic energy, both boys cracked up...thoroughly.

Shoot #2: The second photo shoot was quite another matter.  Scheduled for
Thursday evening at "Herr Otto's" estate near Frankfurt, Herr Schmidt
picked the boys up in the late afternoon.  Having had to wear a large butt
plug since Monday night, Andreas shifted uneasily on the car seat.
Cautioning the boys to be discrete, the Director informed them that they
would soon meet Baron Otto von Hofsberg, the head of a family that
stretched back into the mists of German antiquity.  For instance, it was
believed that his ancestors had fought with the German tribes under
Arminius (Hermann), a Cheruscan prince.  In the famous Battle of the
Teutoburg Forest (A.D. 9), Arminius had attacked and annihilated three
Roman legions that had attempted to pierce the German heartland.  Some
years ago, he had stood with the Kaiser in World War I; today he was an
immensely wealthy German industrialist courted by the officials of all
three western occupying powers.  They were about to have an "exhilarating"
experience.

As the late afternoon light waned, Herr Schmidt's decrepit auto approached
massive iron gates set into a high stone wall.  As the portals opened
automatically, they proceeded onto a winding drive that finally led them to
the front of a princely mansion.  It was exactly 1800 hours (6:00 pm).  As
they climbed the stone stairs, the massive front door opened and they were
greeted by a liveried servant.  Following the servant, they were guided to
the great library were they were graciously greeted by "Herr Otto" himself.
(Rolf later noted that he could have been a close relative of former
President Hindenburg.)  Over coffee and cakes, he chatted quietly with his
guests, treating them as if they were representatives of some combination
of the Pope and General Eisenhower.  (Neither General de Gaulle nor former
Prime Minister Churchill appeared to merit his attention.)  Finally, he
regretfully put his coffee cup down, thanked them profusely for sharing
their views with him, and commented that all pleasures must finally come to
an end.  Now it was time for business.  From a thick sheaf of papers, he
removed the contract that Herr Schmidt and Andreas had signed when the
photo shoot had been arranged.  Slowly, he read down the list, assuring
himself that Andreas remained willing to undertake each of the photographic
assignments listed.  When every item was read and checked, he removed his
reading glasses.  Eyes twinkling, he looked over at Andreas and said, "You
are a very handsome man, young Andreas.  I am delighted with your
professional attitude - and your patience with an old man.  I hope that
this will be the first of many mutually rewarding experiences."  Andreas
quietly nodded his thanks.  "We have agreed, have we not, that tonight's
photo shoot will include only those items agreed to and will give no pain
whatsoever to you?"  When Andreas again nodded his agreement, the old Baron
rose, a servant immediately appeared to lend him support, and the entire
company retired to the "dungeon" below.

Once in the deep basement, enormous steel doors opened as if on ball
bearings to reveal the Baron's playroom.  As Andreas and Rolf gasped, the
Baron and Herr Schmidt smiled genially at each other.  The effect of the
great room upon young models no longer carried any surprises for either of
them.  Guiding them about the room, the old man pointed out large panels
that held the tools of torture, some of them obviously ancient and probably
of immense value.  He cherished considerable attention on the great stone
slab in the very middle of the room.  Made of a shining granite, it had
originally belonged to an Inca chieftain who used it as a ceremonial alter
where he removed the beating hearts of young victims as sacrifices to the
gods.  (Andreas and Rolf looked at each other doubtfully.)  The lighting
and sound systems were stunning.  The finest movie lot in the world could
not touch their capacities.  Wagner played softly in the background.
Flickering candles, dripping in sconces along all four walls, provided the
only light.  Incense burned in braziers, wafting a smoke into the air that
the boys found curiously addictive.  Statues of knights, kings, a dragon
and other strange beasts stood in several niches built into the stone
walls.  A large medieval rack, beloved of the Inquisition, stood on one
side of the immense room.  Several other objects - some of them quite tall
and/or bulky - stood covered by sheeting.  No explanation was given for any
of them.

"Well," the Baron finally said with a smile, "our work calls.  Herr
Schmidt, I have placed a flask of a 'very nice' brandy and a box of Havanas
that I think will please you on a table in the smoking room.  Are you ready
to enjoy this small reward for your service in discovering such glories?"
As the Director nodded in agreement and departed, the Baron turned to Rolf.
"And what of you, young Rolf?  Where will you be most comfortable, and what
may I provide to help you wile away a few hours?"  Alarmed, for his
agreement with Herr Schmidt called for the Director always to be present
during a major shoot, Andreas politely interrupted.  "Herr Otto, Rolf is my
dear friend to whom I am deeply indebted.  My art depends on his presence.
May I impose on you?"  Although a slight glint came into his eyes, the
Baron immediately recovered and graciously agreed to Andreas's "small
request."  Turning to Rolf, he commented that he had a "knightly advocate"
and pleasantly asked him neither to move unnecessarily nor speak during the
shoot.  A servant quickly positioned a comfortable chair at the side of the
room and placed a small table next to it that held a flask of what appeared
to be a white wine, a glass, and a plate on which rested a few small,
exquisitely decorated pastries.  (Rolf commented later that he had never
tasted anything so delicious.)  And now for you, young Andreas.  A servant
will lead you to the dressing rooms where you may prepare for the shoot.
When you return, simply step up on the posing platform that you see
immediately to your right." A servant entered with a tray holding three
small glasses of white wine.  In turn, he offered a glass to the Baron, to
Andreas and to Rolf.  Raising his on high, the Baron said simply, "To life
and beauty!"  Repeating the toast, the boys quaffed their wine and returned
the glasses to the tray.  Another servant appeared and led Andreas through
a side door.

Two others, magnificently muscled and burly, entered the room and stood at
attention behind the posing platform.  (Behind them stood a large frame on
which was stretched a screen of light gray fabric.)  Both men had heavy,
coarse black hair, were unshaven, and were dressed identically in
black...full head masks, full leather harnesses, leather mini jocks,
leather bands at both the biceps and wrists, and boots.  A third man,
probably in his late 30s, dressed in conservative everyday clothing entered
with a glorious old Zeiss Ikon camera that Rolf estimated must have cost a
fortune.  'Big and heavy,' he thought, ' but with that lens he could catch
both the blink of an eagle's eye as it soared through the sky and every
detail on the faces of a full company of infantry!'  Andreas soon returned
with his personal servant who lifted a luxurious white, crested robe from
his shoulders as he stepped, naked, onto the posing platform.  Given a
flick of the Baron's hand, the leather duo moved in front of Andreas with a
tray containing a variety of items.  Silently and without wasted motion
they attached them to the boy's body: black leather wrist cuffs equipped
with heavy rings; black leather ankle cuffs also with heavy rings; leather
bands at the biceps; a heavy, wide, highly polished cock ring of gold; and
a 3-inch leather ball stretcher with a ring on the end to which weights
could be attached.  Their work completed, they returned to their position
at attention behind the posing platform.

The Baron now approached the youth who stood proudly erect, his muscle
taut, his chin slightly elevated, and a pleasing expression on his handsome
face.  "Young Andreas, I give you the first of two gifts that you will
enjoy tonight."  A servant approached with a tray upon which rested a heavy
gold neck chain.  "You will never wear the slave's spiked collar in this
house, young Andreas.  Rather, I welcome you into my home as a beloved
guest.  I welcome you as the most beautiful young man upon whom I have ever
laid my eyes.  I welcome you with this gold chain."  As Andreas inclined
his head, he placed the heavy chain around his neck.  "Are you German?"

"Jawohl, Herr Baron!" the dumbfounded youngster barked.

"In this house, you will address me as "Herr Otto," the Baron gently
corrected the now nervous boy.

"Jawohl, Herr Otto!  Vielen Dank!" ["Yes sir, Herr Otto!  Many thanks!"]

"Excellent!  You are a worthy representative of the Aryan race!"

Grasping and hefting the boy's long scrotum, his testicles now driven
towards the bottom of the sack by the ball stretcher, the smiling Baron
went on to explain that he would now add several weights, one at a time, to
the stretcher.  If at any time, Andreas experienced pain, he was to call
out and the weight would immediately be reduced.  Slowly, he tried one lead
weight after another until the boy's scrotum sagged slightly.  Looking into
Andreas's eyes and seeing neither sign of pain nor of stress, he added the
next heaviest weight, examined the now visibly longer scrotum, and stopped.
"Brave lad," he murmured.

"Brave Andreas!  I shall now give you a 'safe word.'  Your safe word is
'cowardly.'  If at any time during our work, you feel pain, you will call
it out and the exercise will be stopped.  Do you understand?"

"Jawohl, Herr Otto!"

"Very well, the Baron exclaimed.  "Let the work begin!"

The Baron's photographer immediately moved in front of Andreas and with
quiet, highly professional directions guided him into a variety of poses:
front, back, right side, left side, profile left, profile right, head (face
smiling, serious, joking), head and neck, head with neck and shoulders,
full torso, and so forth and so on.  Occasionally, the Baron would move in,
smiling and positive, to slightly adjust some part of the boy's body.  On
one occasion, he laughed softly, offered a few whispered words, and lightly
slapped the boy's rump.  The shoot went on: poses standing, sitting,
crouched on haunches, crouched on heels, legs widespread in front of his
body, legs lifted into the air, reclining - on his back, right side, left
side, stomach; from the rear legs together and legs apart, cock flaccid and
cock erect., and so on.  It was easily the most intense posing session that
Andreas had ever experienced, though it was also, by far, the best
directed. The personal support of the Baron was also a major asset.  While
Herr Schmidt had remained in the immediate area during previous shoots he
separated himself from their emotional and physical flow.

Chains were connected from ring bolts set (slightly wider than the span of
the boy's shoulders) in the ceiling to the rings on Andreas's wrist cuffs.
In like manner, his feet were spread wide and short chains tightly
connected the rings on his ankle cuffs to ring bolts in the floor.  Slowly
the youth's body was winched upwards until he was forced to stand on his
toes.  Immediately, the sweat began to stream down his body, highlighting
every muscle in his glorious physique.  A variety of photos were taken from
different positions.

Finally, though they had been taking short breaks now and again, the boy
began to tire to the point where he was missing a few directions.  He even
found it difficult to keep his cock erect when so directed.  Again, the
Baron moved in.  Placing an arm around Andreas's shoulders, he gently
kissed the side of the young lad's head.  "Brave Andreas, you have worked
long and hard and I have yet to hear your safe word.  We shall soon be
finished.  Would you like me to help you slightly to surmount your present
hurdle?"

"Yes, sir, I would very much appreciate your assistance - and I do thank
you for your great kindness," Andreas replied.  For just a second, the
weary adolescent felt a sharp twinge of pure terror.  He knew that he
actually WANTED the Baron to take charge of his will and of his life.  How
pure one's freedom once won.  How difficult and frightening its constant
defense.

The Baron reached out his hand and began softly and sensually to masturbate
the youngster.  "Do not cum," he cautioned.  A short stretch of road still
lies before us."

A fully erect Andreas finished that set, and the Baron called a halt to the
shoot.  Congratulating him heartily, the leather-clad assistants helped him
over to the granite slab where he could catch his breath.

"You have completed your contract with honor and with excellence, young
Andreas," the Baron continued.  "Normally, I would say no more.  In your
case, I am going to offer you one optional activity.  I assure you on my
honor as a German officer that there is no blame if you refuse.  Are you
interested in hearing the details?"

"Jawohl, Herr Otto!  Zum Befehl!" ["Yes, sir, Herr Otto!  I await your
instructions!"] responded the fast-recovering youngster.

The Baron motioned for the sheeting to be removed from one of the objects
on the floor of the great room.  Both Andreas and Rolf gasped as they
beheld a giant phallus forged in highly polished stainless steel and
thrusting a good 12 feet (3.66 meters) into the air.  It was easily 2 feet
(61 cm) in diameter at the base, narrowing to two inches (5.08 cm) in
diameter before it further narrowed to the tip.  "After you had rested and
only after your body had been properly prepared, you would slowly be
lowered and impaled on the phallus.  I assure you that you would feel no
pain.  In fact, you would probably feel little discomfort.  Following
proper preparation, most of my models have found this to be one of the more
simple of my standard challenges.  As an honorarium, succeed or fail, I
shall personally give you 100 U.S. dollars (a princely sum in the Germany
of 1946!).  Note that I would give this to you directly rather than through
Herr Schmidt.  Would you like some time to consider my offer?"

Andreas glanced over at Rolf, but received no response of any kind.
Quickly, he made up his mind.  "I should be honored to accept your
challenge, Herr Otto.  I am honored that you would even consider me worthy
of offering it!"

Moving over to Rolf's table, he received a steely glance and an outraged
whisper: "What in hell are you doing, Andy?  That damned thing is as big as
a tree!  You said that you never actually 'did' this stuff!  It was all
going to be 'simulation'!"

"Common, buddy!  The money is fuckin' unbelievable!  Besides, the 'Master'
doesn't know that Sam and I perform this 'stage act' all the time.  And,
Big Boy, he's bigger than you are!"

Rolf rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.  Gradually, however, his outrage
collapsed into mumbles and grumbles.  In about a half hour, the Baron came
over to the table.  After inquiring if Andreas still wished to attempt his
challenge - and if the boys desired anything extra at the table - he
suggested that Andreas retire to the back work rooms to remove all hardware
and to receive three special enemas plus other preparation.  Experience had
shown that they would go far towards ensuring that the act would be
relatively pain free.  His staff had long been involved with this challenge
- and, in any case, enthusiastically hoped that he would surmount it.  He
also guaranteed that an experienced medical doctor would be in attendance.
Andreas clapped Rolf on the shoulder, rose, and left for the work rooms.

Andreas began his preparation with a sitzbath [a therapeutic bath in which
the individual sits in a tub with water covering his or her thighs and
hips].  Additionally, a softening compound was added to the water.  He then
proceeded to the enemas.  Unfortunately, although their timing is vital, it
cannot be specified here, for it is a patented, closely guarded industrial
secret.  The first enema involved an herbal preparation developed at the
Baron's industrial medicine facility in Koblenz on the Rhine.  It acted
quickly and gently to clear waste from his entire anal canal and colon.
The final two enema solutions were used after moderate warming.  Enema #2
was based on the Baron's own wine and served as a mild, short-lived
desensitizing agent.  Though not a drawback for wine lovers, it did leave a
slight taste in the mouth for several days.  Enema #3 was a rather heavy
solution of several kinds of oil that Andreas later complained coated his
interior from his anus up to his Adams apple!  Fortunately, it
disintegrated and dissipated within hours.  Additionally, the tip of the
steel phallus was heavily coated with an industrial grease that had been
scientifically demonstrated to cause no ill effects to life.  The Baron's
expert attendants then used fingers, dildos, and sheer experience to
thoroughly stretch the anal muscles and the lower colon.  Finally, Andreas
was taught how to manipulate the Baron's innovative shoulder sling, a sling
manufactured in Switzerland from adjustable, neutral-colored leather and
seatbelt nylon straps with velcro, industrial-strength snaps and clips, and
thick, soft fleece.  Specially manufactured glass cables - both transparent
and non-reflective - connected the sling to the winch.  In the theater
lighting of the Baron's dungeon, it was nearly as impossible to distinguish
the sling from flesh as it was to see the glass cable connecting the sling
to the winch.  Portable ramps allowed the photographer to choose his
locations at will.  By all standards, the resulting pictures would be
erotic and photographic classics.

Andreas reentered the dungeon to the genteel applause of all those who were
privileged to experience the courage of this new Teutonic knight.  The only
decoration on his body was the heavy gold chain given him by the Baron.
First fitting Andreas securely into the sling and double-checking all
connections, the sling was then connected by cable to the winch.  Andreas
and sling were then winched high above the tip of the phallus before being
slowly lowered.  Inch by inch, the youth's anus approached the heavily
greased tip.  As they touched, Andreas instinctively tried to clamp down.
As he quickly discovered, however, the extraordinary lubrication plus his
preparation including the sitzbath, enemas, and vigorous anal exercise had
so loosened the muscles that he was essentially powerless to resist.  He
groaned as he felt a steely fulness threaten his gut, consciously relaxed,
and then grunted loudly as his sphincter snapped open for the aggressive
monster. The youth sighed as he felt a wave of warmth surge through his
bowels to engulf his rock-hard penis.  The Baron's staff worked the winch
gently to make sure the youth was fully opened up before establishing a
fucking motion, repeatedly raising the boy slightly and then gently
lowering him.  Additional grease was constantly added to the steel phallus
to keep the fucking smooth and deep.  Whimpering, moaning musically in an
absolute fog of passion as he submitted to the foreign invader, Andreas
responded to the deep stimulation, pushing his hips downwards to take the
penetration deeper and deeper.  The Baron's doctor (a renown surgeon and
professor of medicine at the University in Heidelberg) finally called,
"Enough!" and it was over.

But it wasn't over!  In a move worthy of an Olympic gold medal, Andreas
suddenly flung his arms over his head and backwards, his legs forward with
his feet slightly tilted.  In the lighting of the dungeon, the boy's
magnificent body appeared to be floating horizontally at the very top of
the giant phallus with his anus balanced on the tip.  In reality - albeit
for a limited time - he was held securely by the glass cables, the swing,
and by the fact that he was indeed impaled on the steel.  Never before had
his soft light hair, his deep chest, his sturdy shoulders and powerful
arms, his imposing buttocks and majestic thighs, and his rounded muscular
calves shown to such advantage.  His own phallus, now a brilliant red in
color and obscenely swollen, throbbed as it stretched longingly for the
ceiling.  Every penile structure was wet with flowing precum and so sharply
defined that it could be distinguished from below.  As the Baron's
photographer wildly clicked his camera's shutter, a gigantic surge of cum
erupted without warning from Andreas's urethra and was caught in the lights
focused on him from below.  The framed color photograph of the orgasmic
moment sent to him by the Baron was never far from his sight.  The scene
was one of wild, barbaric, even diabolical, splendor, only heightened by
the strains of Wagner heard in the background.  All in the room - even Rolf
- burst into wild cheering and applause.

Before the trio left for Tieferwald, the Baron settled his financial
obligations and delivered his second gift for Andreas, a gift concealed in
a beautifully wrapped box.  (On arriving home, the youth found that it
contained four contemporary American sports shirts and two pairs of
authentic jeans.  They were perfectly sized.)  He also promised Andreas
five hundred U.S.  dollars for each and every time he took part in one of
his future photo shoots.  As he saw them off on the steps of his mansion,
the Baron encountered an almost forgotten member of the company.  "And what
of you, young Rolf?" he asked affectionately.  Reaching into the pocket of
his smoking jacket, he pulled out his own gold cigarette case engraved with
the family crest, glanced at it, and handed it to the startled former
SS-jock.  "Here, brave German soldier.  Hopefully, we shall meet again."


(To Be Continued)