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)