Date: Mon, 30 Aug 2004 11:47:56 -0400
From: carl5de@netscape.ne
Subject: OUT OF THE RUBBLE -17
OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 17
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!
Thank you, Ed C., for your devoted help on this section of the story!
PART 17
(Revisiting the End of Part 16)
Looking over at his thoroughly exhausted lover, lightly stroking his
muscular chest, Andreas murmured that their naked dancing was the very best
thing that had happened on that memorable night - maybe even better than
the sex. He wondered if he ought to talk with the other gay boys and see
if they would be interested in a "special" invitational dance...strictly in
the nude. On his own slide into the arms of Morpheus, he barely caught
Sam's mumbled response, "Careful, beast, you're on real thin ice..."
(Continuing Our Story : Return to Frankfurt)
Rolf, damn him, insisted on sending a limousine down to pick him up and
return him to the Baron's mansion outside Frankfurt. On the way, Andreas
couldn't help but dwell on his rather "frank" discussion with Sam about
nude dancing. Sam argued convincingly that he wasn't against nude dancing
per se. It was just that he couldn't allow it openly at DAS HAUS. The
potential fallout from the community could close the doors. Further, if
allowed, how could he possibly deny the same privilege to the straight
boys? Boys and girls, he commented with a leer, faced some different
sexual problems! He added that Andreas might consider practicing his new
obsession with Rolf! "You're a dirty old man," Sam!" Andreas had chortled
as he left the room. Actually, he understood Sam - and, deep down, agreed
with him.
Rolf's welcome to Frankfurt was everything he knew it would be. Over
dinner that night - a magnificent French creation that featured
complementary wines with every course - they caught each other up on recent
turns in their lives. Andreas went on for some time about the ski trip,
the dance, and (blushing) his current obsession with nude dancing. Rolf
spoke enthusiastically about his new school, the fantastic teachers, and
how it was such a relief not to be treated like a nine year old. Reaching
over to hold the Baron's hand, he asked Andreas if he could possibly
understand the depth of his love. Andreas smiled softly at the two lovers
and said, "Yes, I understand. Every moment with Sam is something that
makes my life."
"Well, what can I tell you that you don't already know?" the Baron
interrupted lightly. "Andreas, you seemed quite impressed by my two
leather-clad assistants on your last visit. You may not know that they are
the twin sons of a French couple - magnificent dancers - whose lives I
saved when Amiens (a noted cathedral city in northern France on the Somme
River) came under bombardment during World War I. Destitute and terminally
ill in the years after the Great War, they asked if their babies might come
to Frankfurt to be raised and educated. Though they have always assisted
me...in a variety of ways...both Rene and Garth have degrees from the
Julius Maximillians-Universitaet in Wuerzburg and have danced before the
crowned heads of Europe...those that remain, in any case. Come now, you
must wait for a fourth serving of dessert until tomorrow! Join me in the
library, dear boys."
Escorted by the old Baron, they entered the great library where he pressed
snifters of a glorious, ancient cognac on them and bade them sit in the
flickering light from the massive fireplace. Story after story poured out,
laughter shaking the old stone walls of the mansion...until the Baron
raised his hand and turned to Andreas. "Andreas, you have spoken of your
love for dancing sans sans vetements [French: "without clothing"]. Will
you join my Rolf and give pleasure to the heart of an old cavalry officer?"
Andreas and Rolf must have looked at each other simultaneously, breaking
out into the widest grins. "Nothing would please us more, Herr Baron!" a
suddenly respectful Andreas answered, "Yes, my beloved father, it would
honor us," Rolf said, a proud smile on his face.
Rolf promptly dragged his "best friend" into a side room where he removed
Andreas's jacket and quickly began unbuttoning his shirt. "Whoa, tiger,
where's that guy who just about had a tizzy when I took a picture of him in
the nude, let alone blundered into showing him how much I loved him?" (See
Part 9.) "W-e-l-l, Rolf drawled, "I guess he just grew up - or, maybe, he
found the person he'd been searching for all his life...the person who
taught him what it means to love and how to do it...the person who gave him
a home and a sense of belonging." That question answered to everyone's
satisfaction, both boys were soon sans sans vetements and ready to return
to the Library. "Follow me, Andy," Rolf whispered and opened the heavy
door.
The boys returned to the great hall to find that additional logs had been
placed on the fire and that the flickering light now bounced madly off of
every surface. A classical melody, an adaptation of which had become
widely popular, filled the room. Youthful excitement, alcohol, heat, the
music, and love powerfully combining, Andy whirled Rolf around the room,
weaving through the furniture and circling the Baron's chair. Baron Otto
von Hapsburg gazed at the two youngsters fondly...and appreciatively.
"Pure beauty...pure beauty," he murmured as the firelight warmed Andreas's
powerful muscled, V-shaped back, his classically rounded and dimpled
buttocks, and the backs of his sturdy thighs and well-rounded muscular
calves. "And as they enjoy the same birthday, they enjoy the same heavenly
beauty," he breathed as Rolf swept by in Andreas's arms. How his jet black
hair contrasted so magnificently with his pale, unblemished skin, his
beautifully muscled back flowed from his shoulders and descended in a
classic "V" to a tight, narrow waist, a smaller but perfectly rounded butt,
and powerful, somewhat sinewy legs and calves. "Pure beauty...pure
beauty." As the last note sounded, they came to a halt facing the Baron,
their arms around each other's back. "Bravo, dear boys, bravo!"
"Do you know how to tango?" Rolf breathed to his friend. "Hell, no," Andy
responded in a slight panic. "No problem, just follow me," Rolf reassured
him and led him into the first steps of the sensual melody that suddenly
filled the library. 'Fantastic!' Andreas thought. 'I can feel the beat in
my stomach!' Athlete that he was, after catching the beat, Andreas quickly
set about learning a few basic tango steps as he followed his expert
instructor. Rolf whispered into his ear as they danced cheek to cheek, "As
you dance think of yourself as a great jungle cat and your body will
automatically begin to move with the proper tango style. Imagine yourself
as powerful, graceful, and beautiful as the cat. Often you will begin to
feel and move and even look the way you imagine." By the end of the dance,
"the cat" was more than holding his own. 'What music! Oh, man, I'm on the
prowl!' Andreas thought. Approaching the Baron's chair, Rolf brought the
dance to a stunning climax by artistically raising one arm and lowering his
partner's back towards the floor with the other. The entire front of
Andreas's body, now exposed, seemed to burst into fire as his flesh gleamed
in the flickering light. The Baron rose to his feet applauding!
"Magnificent, gentlemen. Magnificent! I thank you deeply for this
wonderful sharing. Now, however, it is time for an old man to go to bed.
You need not follow! I remember well being a young cavalryman in the
Kaiser's service. Party on; the house is yours; enjoy! Embracing both
youngsters, he headed for the stairs in the company of a servant.
Party on, they did...dancing for hours. And, unlike Andreas's earlier
experience at the "Teen Club" (See Part 14.), this time he DID hook his
fingers under Rolf's buttocks (drawing him closer...and closer......and
closer), nibble on a nipple, move his hands across his friend's broad back,
rub his chin provocatively against Rolf's traps, fully enjoy the feeling of
thigh against thigh, and gasp as he felt both their cocks swell and harden
until they were trapped vertically between their bodies, swollen hard
against each other, pressing into the taut flesh of their lower stomachs!
He had to admit to himself that it had been WELL worth the wait! 'Thanks
for the suggestion, Sam!' he thought.
Even 17 year olds, of course, eventually tire. It was nearly 0300 hours
(3:00 am) when Rolf finally knew it was time to lead his happy friend to
the beautiful bedroom which had been made up for him. Exiting the library,
Rolf called out cheerfully, "Good night, Herr Schneider! I hope you got
some good ones!" ("Is he always around like that?" Andreas asked with just
a touch of concern in his voice. Grinning widely, Rolf replied,"Yep, but
you get used to it. Eventually, you'll just ignore him!") Reaching the
bedroom and noticing his backpack on the floor beside the chair, the weary
boy hugged Rolf and wished him good night.
About four or five minutes later, he heard a tapping at the door. Curious,
he opened it only to find a smiling Rolf. "What's up, friend?" he asked.
"Doesn't your boss demand equal time?"
"The Baron sent me!" Rolf chortled and pushed his friend backwards until
they both fell onto the bed. ('Well," Andreas thought, 'it appears that
thanks are due to both Sam AND the Baron!') Having to make no pretense at
dancing, the two youngsters immediately began rolling around on the bed,
pawing, nibbling, sucking, and tickling each other. Indeed, as an eminent
sage once observed, "They left no part untouched!" As Rolf paused in his
determination to lick every square inch of Andy's body, he looked up and
said, "Andy, do something for me. I couldn't manage it earlier on the
canoe trip (See Part 9), but I want you to take me more than anything I've
ever wanted in this life. Don't worry; I'm all prepared." Thinking that
was exactly what HE had in mind, Andreas quickly moved between Rolf's legs
and began to raise them onto his shoulders. "No, Andy...please. Take me
doggie-style - and no lubrication other than our precum!" "You're sure,
Big Guy?" "Yeah!" Never one to turn down a clear invitation - but
inserting a finger to make sure that Rolf was adequately lubed - Andreas
agreed, saying, "Ok, friend, let's go!" Rolf promptly raised his butt well
into the air, widely separated his legs, and buried his head in a feather
pillow. After heavily lubricating his cock in the precum that was now
freely flowing from both young men, Andy grasped Rolf's hips and set his
thick cock against his partner's anus. "Ready, Rolfi," he asked. "Oh,
yeah, Andy, do it!" Somewhat to his surprise, Andy's thick cock slipped
fully into the welcoming canal with but the slightest pressure. It was as
if it had been inhaled.
"I want you so much, Andy! Let me have it "hard!" Waiting just a second,
Andreas withdrew slightly and then rammed back into the boy to his full
depth. Again and again, like an animal in rut, he thrust with abandon.
Rolf gasped, feeling each lunge as if it were an explosion. Delighting in
Rolf's hairless body, Andy reached down and sharply twisted the boy's
nipples, played with his balls, nibbled on his neck, and forced him to suck
on precum-covered fingers. Finally, mouth open and moaning, trembling
under his partner's complete sexual domination, Rolf's balls drew up, he
groaned loudly, and his cock spewed cum on the sheet below. His sharply
tightening ass muscles pushed Andy over the edge, and he spasmed and
injected cum deep into the muscular boy beneath him.
"Why did you want it that way?" Andy asked his friend as they lay together,
trying to get their breathing and their muscles back under control. "You
know that I love you; it could have been so different." "I don't know,
Andy. I guess it just makes me feel safe. I surrender myself completely -
everything that I am. I want to feel DOMINATED...as if my will isn't my
own. In turn, I receive what I need. It's kinda like Hitler. He demanded
every German's life - his free will, his individuality...everything - and
in return he gave us pride, and strength, and belonging. No complete
surrender...no gift. Does that make any sense at all?"
"Yeah, Rolf, it makes sense, but I think Hitler asked too much - and you
can see what he gave us simply by opening your eyes on the way to school.
Ever consider that?"
Insistently, obsessively, Rolf continued. "You ought to try it at least
once, Andy, even if it isn't your thing. You know, just let yourself go,
don't give a damn, put yourself in another's hands as if you are putty. We
all have that need! Allow yourself to WANT to be taken, dominated...even
humiliated! Get off on being USED! It's a 'high' you'll never forget."
The argument unfinished, the weary boys soon drifted off into sleep.
Clearly, however, the next morning suggested that the matter was definitely
not closed. In a pre-breakfast shower, for instance, Rolf implored Andy to
take him again from the rear while he supported himself against the side of
the stall. Again, for Andy it was little more than rather heartless animal
sex. Though he once again stifled his reservations, Andy was taken with
the feeling that there was no love here...no tenderness...maybe no meaning.
The problem was that he saw Rolf as his best friend and loved him. He
wondered what was going on inside the boy, but, as yet, he felt powerless
to draw any conclusions or say anything to his friend.
Breakfast that morning was an absolute delight. As always, the
conversation was as sparkling as the gourmet food was exciting and
satisfying. The Baron reviewed his thoughts for the coming day, a day that
he felt should be relatively low-key. (Tomorrow, he promised, would be
something quite different! In fact, he gave them a general view of what
was coming and told them to begin preparing - in their spare time!) In
addition to a problem that the Baron needed to discuss with Andreas, he
suggested a short photo shoot for the boys on exercise equipment in the
basement gym. He then insisted that both young men take some time-off and
join Rolf's classmates for a party at a nearby estate. That evening?
Well, a light supper was planned, but let the rest of the evening take care
of itself!
Not surprisingly (at least to the reader), the Baron wanted to talk to
Andreas about his body hair. He admitted to the boy that he realized his
hair was very light and soft, but he still felt that it (e.g., the hair on
his forearms, in his pits, on his torso, and around his genitals - plus the
moderate hair on his calves) detracted from the stunning beauty of his
physique. He added that less than a week ago he had received a new product
that had just survived three rigorous years of testing in Koblenz.
Specifically, a new depilatory had been developed (which would bring him
millions when finally released on the market) that smoothly and efficiently
removed hair, but after 48 hours completely lost its effect. Hair then
began QUICKLY to regrow to its original condition - WITHOUT itching or
other unpleasant side effects. "Have you any problem, Herr Baron, with my
keeping the hair on my head and just a bit of hair above my cock?"
"Absolutely not, young Andreas." "In that case, mein Herr, I have no
problem whatsoever in giving you every other hair on my body!" Andreas
laughed. The procedure was completed, much as it had been for Rolf. (See
Part 12.) Afterwards, in the Baron's workroom, he looked at himself in the
full-length mirror and decided that he looked GREAT. Even before he pumped
up for the morning photo shoot, each muscle seemed powerfully defined.
Additionally, his genitals, impressive earlier even when flaccid, now
seemed even more prominent. What a surprise given the fact that he had
originally been only lightly haired! Further, as had been Rolf's
experience, his skin had a soft (but very natural) sheen and felt, to use
his expression, "fuckin' alive!" Well pleased with himself, the boy waited
excitedly for the Baron who had promised to join him and take him to the
gym for the "Exercise" photo shoot.
The two boys, plus the Baron, Herr Schneider, and "Clausewitz" (the Baron's
trainer) gathered in the basement gym in what might best be described as an
air of electric expectancy. They were definitely "up" for this photo
event! (One may take that comment literally, for both Andreas and Rolf
were noticeably "swollen" from the moment they entered the gym and, on much
of the equipment, sported full erections. In fact, however furtive their
groping, they both seemed to find it difficult to keep their hands away
from their genitals.) Clausewitz had few instructions to offer, for Rolf
used the equipment daily. In addition to having previously joined the
Baron on at least one occasion, Andreas religiously completed daily
workouts in the Exercise Club at Tieferwald. The Baron had no instructions
beyond telling them to "have fun" and, occasionally, to work out together.
As in earlier shoots, he would occasionally move in to slightly rearrange
body positions, always reinforcing the boys with smiles and supporting
words.
After a brief warm-up, the boys moved informally among the wealth of
equipment in the little site. On the stationery bikes, for instance, Herr
Schneider got some wonderful shots of sturdy thigh and calf muscles in
heavy action. He also took advantage of the large mirrors in the gym to
secure some sparkling photos of the boys working out with weights. The
boxing station provided some fine shots as the boys jabbed at a heavy,
hanging punching bag and even did a little sparring with each other. In
truth, every station provided sterling studies of sweaty muscles working at
full power. As everyone later agreed, the climax of the shoot came when
the boys were doing some fierce ab crunches on two inverse boards placed
side by side. Unable to resist showing-off, Rolf kept one hand behind his
neck as he thrust his torso forward, but used the other to stroke his
already rock-hard cock. Not to be outdone, Andreas matched Rolf - before,
that is, he reached over to stroke Rolf's heavy prong! And so they
continued - crunches in perfect form coupled with exchange-stroking - until
they screamed as their cocks simultaneously exploded in dual geysers of
cum! (Herr Schneider, who had captured the full experience, said that the
expressions on their faces were classic!) As the boys lay back on the
boards, collapsed into hysterical laughter, it seemed that the gym workout
had run its course.
After the photographer had whispered with the Baron for a moment, the
powerful old man came over to the boys and said, "Herr Schneider tells me
that time would still allow you to enjoy our excellent whirlpool for a few
minutes before lunch. Would you be interested?" Their muscles weary from
the intense workout, sweat drenching their bodies from their soggy hair to
their feet, nothing could have pleased the youngsters more. Besides, the
young athletes had only heard of whirlpools. Neither had ever experienced
one.
As they entered a relatively small, adjoining room, they gasped at its
beauty. The entire, efficiently-designed room - benches, a three headed
shower, wash basin, urinal, other equipment, and a glorious whirlpool that
could contain 4-5 portly adults at one time - lay before them fashioned in
white marble and polished gold! Clausewitz had already begun filling the
whirlpool, and finished as they washed the sweat off in quick showers.
Like boys on their first outing at the beach, they quickly entered the
swirling waters in high excitement. Only then did their wide eyes indicate
they had discovered that the water was (extremely) HOT! After they had
adjusted to the temperature, Herr Schneider got some wonderful shots as the
boys enthusiastically posed for him - stretching out in the tub, toying
with the fixtures, gazing into the lens with provocatively sexy looks,
innocently playing with each other. Finally, Andreas had all that he could
take and stood up. (Lordy, his cock and heavy nutsack looked as if they
stretched down below his torso for a good foot [38.48 cm]!) His genitals a
deep red from the heat and engorged blood, he sat on the edge of the
whirlpool. The photographer thought he would faint from pleasure when Rolf
pushed over to the side of the pool and gave his friend an expert blow job.
As they stood and climbed out of the pool, a servant handed them large
fluffy towels from a heated rack. The good photographer was also grateful
to get some superb shots as they dried each other's bodies, especially
their swollen equipment!
After such a morning, one would expect lunch to be an exciting event, and
so it was. A large picnic lunch was brought down to the whirlpool room
where the boys sat cooling off. A chilled sparkling white wine, creative
sandwiches on good German bread, and a fantastic chocolate mousse
disappeared in short order. No one was surprised, however, when the
irrepressible youngsters had the last word. Using the contents of the
butter, mustard, and mayonnaise containers - plus a spicy red concoction of
the Baron's master chef - the boys engaged in a food fight that left them
rolling on the marble floor in raucous laughter. Actually, the Baron, not
to speak of Herr Schneider, thought that they looked "good enough to eat"!
Finally, the Baron raised a hand and insisted that they shower and prepare
for the afternoon party at a neighboring estate.
Andreas found the party to be something of a letdown. Yes, Rolf's
classmates were pleasant enough - in a somewhat jockish, Hitler Youth sort
of way - and there were some pretty girls in attendance from another
Frankfurt school for dancing to a live band, but no one SAID anything of
import. Beyond the expected social amenities, it was difficult to draw
them into a meaningful conversation on ANY topic. (Indeed, one usually
received empty stares when one tried. How different from the dance
conducted at The House only a short time before!) Finally, thoroughly
bored, Andreas asked Rolf if they might return home early in order to work
on tomorrow's "presentations."
Once at the mansion, Andreas paired with Garth to work on a planned
pantomime titled "Apache Dance" (pronounced in French, "Danse ah-PAHSH")
whereas Rolf worked with Rene to ready a tableau titled "Parade of the
Olympic Athletes." (AUTHOR'S NOTE: For those afficionados of entertainment
that captured the popular consciousness immediately before the rise of
moving pictures, both the tableau and the pantomime were common in bars,
brothels, and vaudeville The "pantomime" allowed movement and music,
whereas the "tableau" or "living picture" allowed neither. Historically,
both were important art forms.)
A late supper was followed by more work on the presentations. The evening
ended relatively early with a delightful three-way between the Baron and
the boys - the most vigorous element probably being a "69" between Rolf and
Andreas. All three found it to be soft and loving, and most enjoyable.
Nevertheless, neither Andreas nor Rolf was unhappy to climb into bed after
such a demanding and vigorous day. All slept soundly until morning.
Youth being youth, the boys vigorously attacked breakfast the next morning
with marked gusto and readied themselves for the culminating day of a grand
photo shoot. Clausewitz, a former SS wrestling coach, joined the table,
informing them that it would be free-style wrestling, no holds barred. The
game was to insert a fairly good-sized dildo into the other (inasmuch as
both boys were experienced anally and could have taken considerably more
without discomfort). In the style of the Roman Coliseum, the winner would
roughly fuck the wrestler who was finally subdued, at which point the loser
would be dragged away. Grinning widely, both boys enthusiastically agreed
to the rules, suggesting vulgarly to the other that his end was fast
approaching. (To the amusement of the Baron, their adolescent comments
played obscenely on the word "end".)
After being thoroughly rubbed down with a heavy oil, the two young men were
led to an exercise room whose floor had been completely padded. Crouched
in their respective corners like two wolves interested in the same bitch,
the two faced each other...every muscle tense...ready to spring. The
signal given, they came at each other with raised hands. The slightly
heavier and taller Rolf struck first. With unexpected speed, he grabbed
one of Andreas's legs and flipped him on his back. Instantly, he dropped
onto his opponent, pinning his shoulders to the mat, but Andreas was too
agile and slid out of his grasp. Flinging his body onto Rolf's back, his
heavy genitals rubbing against his opponent's anus, Andreas wrestled the
boy onto his side. Again, Rolf was too strong and flipped Andreas onto his
back. There he held him as his sweat dripped down onto his adversary and
their thick chests rose and fell convulsively. Having had the wrestling
instruction given to all SS recruits, Rolf eventually worked his opponent
over onto his stomach, whereupon he sat on his butt, grabbed his ankles,
and pulled them sharply backwards. It was to no avail. Andreas escaped
his hold, punishing Rolf's swollen penis and scrotum, and threw him to the
ground. The youngster lay there on his back, his arms thrown out, his
mouth gasping in mock agony. Again, the wily Rolf struck and soon had his
antagonist's body on top of his, holding Andreas securely under the arms,
his legs clamped over the boy's lower body until they joined just under the
genitals. And so it went for a good fifteen minutes, first one on the
verge of victory and then the other.
Andreas always felt that the end came too quickly - and far too easily.
Controlling his rival who was upon his knees, he jerked Rolf's rock-hard
cock and eased the large, greased dildo into his open anus. The match was
not yet over. Rolf fought on desperately, the handle of the dildo bobbing
obscenely from his anal canal. Within minutes, however, he raised his arm
in supplication and surrender. Given the coach's signal - and a second ok
from Rolf - Andreas dropped onto him, roughly removed the dildo and fucked
him, and stood arms raised in victory. The Baron's leather-clad assistants
then appeared, seized Rolf's feet, and dragged the apparently exhausted boy
from the mat. So ended a memorable - and photographically productive -
match.
Reinforcing Andreas's suspicions, Rolf seemed to have fully recovered by
the time they sat down - cleansed of the oil, but still in the nude - to a
light lunch, listened to the Baron's instructions for the final afternoon
session, and granted his request to invite guests to view their
performances. As a matter of fact, a smiling Rolf tossed an arm across his
friend's shoulders as the three men walked towards a room in the oldest
wing of the mansion, the same wing that contained the great library.
The old room was absolutely gorgeous. Its stone walls gleamed in the light
of several floor-to- ceiling windows that overlooked the gardens; its
extremely high ceiling contributing to the feeling of bygone opulence. In
fact, equipped with a grand piano, an immense Persian carpet worth a
fortune, and pieces of exquisite period furniture, it normally served as
the mansion's music room. Today, it had been cleared and turned into a
French cafe! Fifteen round tables, each designed to seat two to three of
the Baron's guests, occupied approximately two-thirds of the room. Three
spotlights on stands had been placed at strategic locations. The remaining
third contained a slightly raised stage, in back of which was seen a door
leading to a hallway. A dripping candle set in a wax-encrusted wine bottle
sat on each of the tables which had been covered in simple red-checkered
table cloths. Simple cafee chairs had been placed at each table.
As was the Baron's custom (See Part 12.), the boys were given the afternoon
off to sleep, consult with Rene and/or Garth, work out in the basement, or
simply to relax as desired. At 1600 hours (4:00 pm) they would be summoned
and their bodies prepared for their performances, Rolf's at 1800 hours,
Andreas's commencing after a short interlude. Indeed, promptly at 1600
hours, they were collected and led to a preparation room. Andreas, told
that he would be prepared later, was amazed at that which followed. After
receiving a vigorous massage, a professional cosmetologist transformed
Rolf's skin and hair into the color of the whitest, purest Carrara marble.
Indeed, when she was finished, his friend appeared to BE a marble statue.
The effect was unbelievable!
As Andreas wandered outside in the hall, wondering how he could watch
Rolf's tableau, he ran into Herr Schneider. When he complained, the
photographer smiled and slyly motioned for the lad to be quiet and to
follow him. A tiny elevator whisked them upwards to a door which when
opened led into an airy cubicle that was not much larger than the elevator.
Indeed, there was only room for a padded shelf that contained several of
Herr Schneider's cameras and lenses, a stool, and a small amount of
standing room. Placing a finger on his lips, the man silently opened one
of two sliding panels, and motioned for Andreas to look out. In shock, he
found himself looking out onto the music room! "There are more of these
observation cubicles throughout the house?" Andreas whispered. When the
photographer scowled and vigorously mouthed for him to "shut up," Andreas
nodded in acceptance and resumed looking into the room. The tables were
now occupied by approximately 40 men. Dressed conservatively, most
appeared to be older and wealthy, though a few hard-bitten types were
obviously somewhat younger. All had the look of command. Waiters passed
among the tables, delivering one's choice of espresso, beer, wine, other
drinks, and small cakes. On the stage, a large, high, rectangular frame
had been erected. Every surface covered in a dull black fabric, the front
side was open to the tables.
Momentarily, the Baron, dressed formally in a tuxedo, appeared. He
reminded his guests of the nature of a tableau, noted that the first of two
evening presentations was titled, "Parade of the Olympic Athletes, and
explained how there would be periods of complete blackness intermixed with
illuminated "living pictures." He further noted that the artist was the
same young man who had thrilled them during his spectacular gymnastic
exhibition. (See Part 12.) Hearty applause broke out, ended only by the
room falling into pitch darkness.
Suddenly, a spotlight illuminated the famous marble statue of the "Discus
Thrower" on a pedestal, every muscle thrown into relief, the marble discus
held up and to the rear. The audience broke into wild applause,
interrupted after several seconds by the room again falling into darkness.
In turn, the opening picture was followed by the statue of a man, his
marble rife raised towards an imaginary target; a football player in
mid-air, heading a marble ball (the positions of each maintained with the
help of the nearly invisible glass cables encountered earlier (See Part
12.); a javelin hurler about to loose his marble javelin for Olympic gold;
a gymnast on his side showing his expertise in floor exercises, his front
facing the audience, his torso elevated by an outstretched arm; a boxer; a
weightlifter hoisting mighty weights, his muscles straining impossibly; and
a sprinter breaking the tape, his arms thrust upwards in victory (again
held in position with aid of the glass cables). The penultimate picture
brought the audience to its feet cheering. The spotlight illuminated Rolf
in a perfect "Iron Cross," the rings absolutely steady, his arms nearly
level with his shoulders, his muscled body gracefully hanging motionless
below. The final picture was that of the Olympic athlete, standing on a
pedestal, wearing his hard-won olive wreath and his gold medal. (Only the
medal in shining gold broke the unrelieved white of the scene.) Suddenly,
a large Nazi flag emblazoned with the words "Berlin - 1936" was projected
onto a screen behind the statue. The audience broke into a tumultuous
roar, punctuated by heavy pounding on the wooden tables. On barked
command, each and every man snapped to rigid attention, thrust out his arm
in the Hitler salute, and lustily joined in the singing of the "Horst
Wessel Lied," the anthem of the Nazi Party. As the singing began, Herr
Schneider closed his portal from which he had been taking endless photos
and whispered for Andreas to return to the preparation room.
Andreas, feeling somewhat sick to his stomach, was in complete confusion.
That last tableau was no "historical" exhibit - nor were the events that
followed it accidental! The Nazi period had passed with his beloved,
misguided Germany reduced to rubble. It was time to let it go and get on
with life. He intended to conscientiously fulfill his contract, but -
despite the presence of his best friend - he would think long and hard
before returning to the Frankfurt mansion. As he entered the preparation
room, the question of whether or not he would speak to Sam about what had
just transpired remained something that he simply could not answer at the
moment.
Entering the room, he found Rene and Garth dressing in the rough, filthy
clothes of the lowest stratum of French workers, though each had a colorful
scarf around his neck. Realizing that he had never seen them out of
leather, he pulled himself together and laughingly complimented the young
men (who were probably in their late 20s or early 30s) on their "improved
appearance." Andreas was expertly rubbed down with oil of the finest
quality. When they left for the rear door that led to the stage, he was
once again fully into the exciting demands of the work that lay ahead.
Again the formally dressed Baron served as Master of Ceremonies. He
reminded his guests that the star of "Danse Apache" (ah-PAHSH) was none
other than the young man who had earlier thrilled them by impaling himself
on a gigantic steel phallus. He would be assisted by his trusty aides.
Briefly, he reminded them of the historical background and the basic plot
that involved a French underworld character (the Apache, possibly a pimp in
this case) asking his woman (possibly a prostitute) for money. She refuses,
he slaps her around for awhile, and eventually drags her into a dance.
Laughingly, he commented that tonight's "prostitute" would be a young lad,
an historical error for which he hoped the audience would graciously
forgive him. (The audience immediately broke into coarse laughter.)
Violent applause finally gave way to the sounds of a sensual tango that
filled the room. The hypnotic rhythm again gripped Andreas, as it had on
the first night of the shoot. Automatically, he felt himself slip into the
predatory, graceful movements of the great jungle cat. Andreas slid onto
the stage, empty other than for an immense black backdrop and a table with
glasses and two chairs. In pantomime, Garth stood, approached him, and
demanded his "earnings." Moving very broadly (as in the early silent
films), Andreas feigned fear, but indicated that there was no way he would
surrender the few centimes [100 centimes = one French franc) given him by
his "johns" that evening. After roughly searching the most intimate places
on his body for money, Garth slapped him viciously across the face and
shoved him to the ground. (AUTHOR'S NOTE: Remember that Garth was an
accomplished Apache dancer, as his mother and father had been before him,
that each and every movement had been practiced with Andreas until it was
nearly automatic, and that all blows landed with practically no force. It
was Andreas's job to complete the illusion.)
As Andreas lay on the floor, the strangest feeling stole over him - perhaps
due to shock he experienced when the Baron's guests demonstrated on seeing
the Nazi flag, perhaps to the hypnotic music, perhaps to the desire we all
experience at some point simply to give up and allow someone else to "take
care" of us, perhaps to remembering Rolf's earlier comments that he should
try letting go and putting his will into another's hands, WANTING to be
taken, dominated, and even humiliated. "At least once, get off on being
used," Rolf had advised. "It's a 'high' that you'll never forget!" In any
case, in the boy's mind, none of this mattered any more. All that was real
was that he was so painfully tired of trying to stay alive, let alone of
fighting every day to become a responsible adult! Mentally, he took every
gift that belongs to the human being and handed them to Garth in return for
his...love? Garth could do anything to him and he would gratefully accept
it.
It didn't matter to him when Garth inserted the toe of his boot under his
flat stomach and gently (at least in reality) flipped him over. As Andreas
instinctively completed his well-practiced roll, he was certain that he
felt blinding pain! When Garth gently (at least in reality) reached down
and grabbed his heavy genitals, pulling them up into the air as if showing
them to Rene, and then contemptuously "threw" them back between his legs,
he felt an overpowering sense of humiliation. When Garth returned to the
table to rejoin Rene, he felt gut-wrenching terror and loss. Improvising,
the boy crawled over to the table on his belly, raised his arm, and begged
to be forgiven. When Garth rose, hoisted him into the air, spun him around
in a circle, and threw him into a heap on the table (actually, a heavily
padded table), Andreas wept real tears. When Garth grabbed him by the hair
and pinned him against the front of his body (asking in a whisper whether
Rene's entering him was still ok), he nodded affirmatively. It didn't
matter. He wanted to feel the humiliation of a brutal rape! Simulation?
Forget it! He felt his cock swell and WANTED the twins to grab it and
twist it viciously. The fact that they were gentle didn't register. To
their shock, he came all over them! The simulations...and the wild,
hypnotic music... continued. In addition to head-butts and kicks to the
groin, knives, brass knuckles, and coins wrapped in Garth's colorful scarf
were all used in the swirling, kaleidoscopic action. Approaching orgasm -
content in the knowledge that he was loved - he allowed Garth masterfully
to control his body in a blindingly erotic tango. When, at the end, the
twins supported him between them, their hands under his arms, his feet
dragging on the ground, the lad - sweat and cum flowing heavily down his
naked, superbly muscled body - felt completely dominated...humiliated...and
used. Andreas was half-dragged off the stage to tumultuous applause. (The
Baron knew that his outrageous model's fee [five hundred 1947
U.S. dollars!] had been well spent!)
Once the music stopped and his head stopped spinning, Andreas recovered
relatively quickly. He fully realized that the jointly-planned pantomime
had rested on illusion. Though very tired, he even managed to eat some
supper an hour later. At his request, Herr Schneider brought out several
hundred uncensored photos that pictured most of the shoot events, including
everything from his wild dancing and sex with Rolf on the first night,
through Rolf's tableau earlier that day. Wow! Those pics in the whirlpool
were really hot, as were the laboratory photos of him as he stood denuded
in front of the full-length mirror! Man, oh man, he looked ENORMOUS!
(Before Andreas left Frankfurt, he had the hair changes made permanent.)
Lordy, there were even shots of the crowded cafee from different angles.
How in hell had he managed THAT?! Afterwards, still recovering
psychologically, he sat on a low wall in a darkened corner of the garden,
musing over what had happened. Well, Rolf was correct...at least to a
degree. It was a "high" to remember - even though it was finally not his
thing. However tired and discouraged he had often felt on his journey from
deep within the forests of Slovakia - and since - there was no way that he
would ever give up his freedom...or adult responsibility. Nevertheless, oh
God, what a ride! Well, tomorrow he would be home. He so looked forward
to talking with Sam! His long, thick cock swelling again, as it so often
did, he reached into his pants to take care of it.
(To Be Continued)