Introduction: I would tell you what inspired this story, but you can probably figure it out for yourselves. Besides, if I named the inspiration, you would expect a very different story. This is not a rewrite of any story, but rather an original tale that I hope you enjoy, even if the sex is a bit sparse.

In the winter of 1943, there were only two places that you would likely find Jews in Poland; a Forced Labor Camp (Zwangsarbeitslager) or and Extermination Camp (Vernichtungslager). The homes and businesses of Jews had been confiscated and even the ghettos to which they had been moved had been virtually completely evacuated.

The difference between these places was that the Zwangsarbeitslagers were places where Jews were kept to work and the Vernichtungslagers were places where Jews were taken for execution. In point of fact, the differences were less obvious. It was mainly a question of the primary function of the camp.

The new Forced Labor Camp of Plaszow, under the command of Untersturmfeuhrer Ernst Becker, had been constructed in record time. Prefabricated parts and Jewish laborers had erected the buildings and fences. Several Jews had either been shot summarily for arguing or sloth or had died from exposure and malnutrition, but the majority of the work force was intact. In fact, they worked with a speed that resembled enthusiasm to avoid being made examples by Herr Commandant.

In another time and place, Becker would be considered cruel and even demented, but in that camp in 1943, he was merely efficient, if a bit self-indulgent. To him, Jews were lower than dogs. Their ultimate fate, regardless of their current location, was execution, so while they were alive they were sources of labor, tools, or toys. When they were dead, they were a source of raw materials and a nuisance to dispose of. With absolute power of life and death, Untersturmfeuhrer Becker's commands were either obeyed, or there would be another body for the pile.

Despite the prohibition against sexual contact between Jews and members of the Aryan race, Becker had no compunction about such things, at least not in front of Jews who were going to die anyway. He was a bit more circumspect regarding the provisions of the Race and Resettlement Act when junior officers or Aryan civilians were around. He was a lonely man, or better said a loner, who sought sexual satisfaction to relieve the stresses of his job. His hedonism in this regard was functional -- intended to improve his mood and therefore improve his proficiency.

Becker had taken one Jewish family of the hundreds in the camp to be his personal household staff. The Goldbergs, Europeanized Jews, were chosen perhaps because of their distinctly Aryan looks, but to Becker the fact of their Jewishness still classified them as Untermensch (subhuman).

The father, Leopold, remained in the camp, but his wife, Ingrid, and their children, Danka, 11, Hans, 13, Marie, 9, and Wilhelm, 8 had a room in Herr Commandant's villa overlooking the camp. Becker did not fear them. Since there was no escape, and the father was kept separate, his control over them was absolute. Ingrid and the children knew that their survival, and that of Leopold, depended upon their ability to appease Untersturmfeuhrer Becker. This remained unstated, but clearly understood by all.

Danka was fearful, but well disciplined, so when Becker called her into his room shortly after she moved into his villa she was cooperative and resolved to do whatever was necessary for the preservation of her family. Becker was almost kind (or gave that impression) as he sat in a chair and instructed Danka to remove her clothing.

There was no procrastination as she quickly complied with his "request." Her clothing was simple, even in the winter, so that she only had to slip her dress over her head before she was completely nude.

For several moments, Becker sat admiring the physique of this thin girl whose breasts were not yet formed and whose nether lips were still hairless. He motioned for her to turn around, and she did so slowly until she faced him again. He gestured for her to get onto the bed and she calmly walked to the edge and lay down flat. Her eyes avoided his, but she kept his face in her peripheral vision so that she would not unintentionally disobey a nonverbal order.

Becker stood and walked around the bed, staring at Danka from several angles before he said, "Open your legs."

Danka's eyes were directed at the ceiling as she spread her legs wide. Her face betrayed no emotion, and her actions were a model of obedience which appeared to please Herr Commandant. When she heard his zipper, she began to mentally prepare herself for what her mother had described as rape, but Becker stood over her, holding his erect phallus in his hand, and did not touch her.

"Close your eyes," barked Becker and Danka closed them without a second glance or thought. Moments later, she felt a liquid that was warm begin to squirt and then drip onto her face until her face had been completely covered. For several moments, she lay there, feeling the liquid run down her cheeks like tears that had not come from her eyes.

Danka heard his zipper again before Becker said in a low voice, "Get out of here." As she sat up and opened her eyes, the salty liquid burned and caused her to have to dress with her eyes almost shut. As soon as she had slipped her dress on over her head, she walked to the door and left without looking back.

When she rejoined her mother, Danka's face was still largely covered with what she would later know was semen. Ingrid had no words for her daughter, but silently cleaned her face with a towel and ushered her to her bed which she shared with her sister, Marie. There had been no conversation because whatever happened didn't matter. She was alive, and that was enough.

Each succeeding night brought the children into the bedroom of Herr Commandant, and it became almost a ritual. The details of each encounter were different, but the outcome was the same. Becker gave orders, the members of the family obeyed, and when Becker had achieved some degree of satisfaction it was over.

Danka and Wilhelm were his favorites, at least at first. Wilhelm would usually lie on the bed naked and Danka, also naked, would be commanded to perform some sexual act while Becker watched, usually with his cock in his hand, but always fully dressed.

At first, oral sex was the order. Wilhelm's little penis responded involuntarily to the stimulation of his sister's mouth or hands, and so Danka spent a great deal of time with her head bobbing up and down on her brother's erect penis, taking it into her mouth completely before raising up until the circumcised head was the only thing in her mouth.

Becker spoke more freely as time passed, and acted as the director of the action. Later, he would occasionally involve himself in the action, but only on his own terms.

"Lay on your back and spread your legs," Becker directed Danka before instructing her brother to lick her hairless cunt. When Wilhelm was told to lay on his sister and put his tiny hardon into her cunt, Danka had to help her brother find the hole the first time. Despite Danka's being a virgin, Wilhelm's penis could fit into her virginal cunt without tearing the hymen.

When Wilhelm finally learned how to hump his sister so that his cock slid in and out of the warm recess of her vagina, Becker would lay his head on the bed to watch the action close up. To Danka's chagrin, Wilhelm was both vigorous and, in her opinion, too enthusiastic, but she realized that this pleased Herr Commandant even more than a lackluster performance would have.

Danka learned that when she was on top, facing either Wilhelm's head or feet, she had much more control over the thrust of the tiny penis. Becker preferred to have Danka facing him, legs wide open and the little cock easily visible as it fucked the hairless twat. Becker knew the performance was solely for his benefit, but he was increasingly insistent that the "performers" do more than go through the motions. Danka's blank expression was replaced with what would pass as passion, but not until her mother was able to show her how.

Back in the room, Danka explained to her mother what had been requested of her by Becker. Ingrid, after listening to the instructions, gathered her family around her and began the lessons that she hoped would save their young lives.

Explaining the mechanics of sex was first. Every variety of sexual pleasure was described and, when the description was insufficient, it was "demonstrated." At least, the demonstration was sufficient to give the idea of what actually happened. The explanation of what was pleasurable and could lead to orgasm was somewhat more difficult to explain, especially when trying to make the younger kids understand.

After failing to make them understand what an orgasm was, Ingrid masturbated for her children. She remained clothed, but showed how rubbing in the right place would lead from pleasure to orgasm. Each of the children were asked to fake an orgasm and Ingrid would correct them when their performances were in error. At times, it was even comical.

Marie, in particular, had a problem with the expression one showed to illustrate pleasure. She would grin and laugh since that was how she was used to showing the type of pleasure with which she was familiar.

For the boys, faking was not so easy. Little Wilhelm's youth was an advantage since his erections were reflexive, but Hans, the oldest boy and the oldest of the children, seemed unable to get an erection or feign excitement.

"Hans," Ingrid said after she had considered the problem, "What does make you get erections?"

Hans was reticent about revealing his fantasies, but eventually admitted an attraction for a girl with blond hair and large breasts named Gretchen. His sister, on the other hand, was flat, and besides, it was his sister! They were more likely to fight than kiss, and he had absolutely no attraction for her or anyone that resembled her.

"Close your eyes and relax, Hans," ordered Ingrid. "Pretend Gretchen is lying beside you on this bed."

Hans smiled at the thought as he lay there naked, but his embarrassment was still his predominant emotion. Then, he felt a warm hand on his phallus - he opened his eyes to see his mother's hand and looked at her with some surprise.

"I said to close your eyes. Now imagine that this hand belongs to Gretchen." He could see the image, but -- it was his mothers! No, he told himself, it was Gretchen, and it felt so good. A very slight erection was noticeable, perhaps more of a thickening and lengthening of his phallus.

"What is Gretchen doing now? Is that her hair on your stomach, brushing your skin?" Hans felt the hair and then a warmth of breath and moisture as his cock entered a warm cozy place, and he could see Gretchen in his mind; head on his stomach, mouth on his penis, sucking, moving...

It was working! Hans kept his eyes closed and his fantasy came to life! Rock hard, he felt like cramming his cock into her mouth, but there was no need since the mouth was moving, more and more rapidly, and he felt definite pleasure, and more -- he was sensing an urge to cum. As the urge got closer, and approached the point of no return, he returned to reality and opened his eyes to see his mother's head bobbing on his cock. But it was too late, he knew that he couldn't stop, so he cried out to his mother to stop or...

But she didn't. She kept right on sucking. Hans closed his eyes tightly, gritted his teeth and tried not to cum, but it was too late. Ingrid felt her son's cum, squirting forcefully into her mouth and into the back of her throat, and she kept sucking. She knew that he must overthrow any inhibitions he had ever had so that if he should be with any of the women, he should be able to become aroused and to reach orgasm, so she sucked, until he was dry.

Call it training, conditioning, or education, Ingrid prepared her children well.

She taught them that there is no shame in doing whatever is necessary to stay alive; that there is no dignity in death; that modesty must be replaced by determination; and, from the Torah, hope belongs to the living, and a live dog is better off than a dead lion. To Hans, these were not just words of advice; they were prophecy. He began to refer to Untersturmfeuhrer Ernst Becker as the Lion, but only in secret.

To overcome their ingrained modesty, she had them all remove their clothes to become accustomed to being naked in one another's presence. Physical contact was next; simple at first with simple hugging and later fondling or exploring of their bodies.

Even Hans' curiosity was piqued when he first gazed at his oldest sister's hairless cunt, spread wide with her fingers. With his mother's encouragement, he inserted his index finger into the opening, and slowly moved it back and forth as Danka faked an orgasm. It was an excellent fake and Hans found himself with an erection that he could not have faked, and that he could not hide.

Each of them learned the techniques of sex, and practiced them regularly, while Becker reaped the benefits. He was not surprised to see the children engage in sexual performances that were convincing because he had assumed that incest would be a natural part of a Jewish family, but he also appreciated that they were getting better as time passed. He almost regretted that he was alone in enjoying his little performances, but secrecy was necessary, or he would be sent to the Russian front -- or worse.

One night, as he sat in his chair, he invited Marie to sit in his lap. The naked girl crawled onto his leg and he positioned her legs apart on either side of his while his erect cock was pressed against her tiny cunt. As he watched young Wilhelm fuck his other sister doggy style, he slowly rubbed his cock and positioned the head between Marie's hairless cuntlips.

He gave orders and Danka turned around to receive Wilhelm's thrusts into her mouth. Marie was uncomfortable, but she fell back on her training and replaced the urge to cry with a fake orgasm. Becker's eyes left the show as he watched the girl on his lap grunt and groan, pant and hump, and he soon came. His cum poured into Marie's tiny cunt and overflowed. Marie's faked orgasm coincided with Becker's ejaculation, and the show was over.

As the months wore on, Becker tired of the shows. He had found, however, that Danka's mouth was a satisfactory repository for his semen. Finally, he began to drink heavily and would ask for Danka, watch her give him a blowjob, and let her return to her room when she was done.

It became like another housekeeping job: Clean the floors, wash the clothes, dust the furniture, suck the semen. She estimated later that she drank over 7 liters of his semen altogether (15 ccs per night for about 500 nights = 7,500 ccs or 7 and 1/2 liters).

He didn't choose this method of relief because it felt good, although it did. Nor did he choose it because Danka was pretty, although she was. Nor did he choose it because Danka was excellent at giving head, although she was. He chose it because it was less messy than masturbation. Danka was no more than a way of "cleanly" ejaculating.

One might think that such a repetitive act, performed unwillingly for a man she despised would forever make her want to avoid oral sex, but this was not the case. She derived some pleasure, a sense of control in a place out of control and a sense of accomplishment at fulfilling a duty for her family. The duty extended somewhat beyond servicing Herr Commandant.

Danka also became the source of relief for her brother who, hormones raging and no other females around (other than his mother, who knew of her son's activities, but did not interfere because she had been the instigator and because she could see no harm in the continuation of this activity). Danka, would suck her brother off every night after she had emptied Herr Commandant. Perhaps she saw this as a way of cleansing her palate of the taste of Becker's Nazi sperm.

Becker thought of his position as unassailable, permanent, and completely secure. He did not fear the Jewish family that lived with him. Oh, he knew that they could kill him, but then they would die. It was like a chess match where Becker had prepositioned the pieces to his advantage.

Each piece was controlled by one of his own: The husband by the guards, the wife by the unstated threat to her husband and children, and the children by their youth and loyalty to their parents. The Jewish prisoners outnumbered the guards, but they had been stripped of their dignity and his guards had weapons and fences. Besides, he had the support of his government. Where would the Jews go if they were not here? They would be killed.

One day, a chess piece moved that changed the whole game. It was as subtle as the movement of a pawn one space, but suddenly there was a whole new game. Becker, however, did not appreciate the significance of the move. He was blind to the new situation.

Perhaps Becker had been drinking too much. As the news from the Russian Front became worse, and then alarming, he swilled bottle after bottle of booze and, if anything, became more cruel and bizarre.

Danka went to his room one night after he had called for her. All day long, convoys of trucks carrying German wounded and retreating (or "regrouping") soldiers. In the distance, there was the deep rumble of exploding artillery. She found Becker standing by a dresser, dressed only in his shirt, holding a glass of cognac. She silently slipped off her dress.

Becker's gaze slowly went from her bare feet upwards, taking in her smooth legs, hairless cuntlips, flat abdomen, and newly burgeoning breasts (Danka was now 12 years old). When he looked up at her face, she could see something different; something like anger, something like resolve.

He picked up something off the dresser and walked to the chair where she had always given him his blowjob. As he sat down, she saw that in his left hand was the cognac, but in the right was his pistol. She cautiously approached and got on her knees. He opened his legs and she took his phallus in her mouth to begin her nightly duty.

As he watched his cock disappear into her mouth, Becker was loosely thinking about executing Danka, perhaps just for the hell of it. He had killed so many Jews, what did it matter? He had received an order to kill them all anyway in order to prevent their escape in the event the Russians approached the camp. Well, maybe now was the time.

As her head moved back and forth, he placed the pistol at her temple and moved the gun with her rhythm. Suddenly, he started to laugh uncontrollably. He was hysterical with giddiness. It had just occurred to him that if he shot her now, he just might shoot his own dick off!

Danka had closed her eyes when she felt the gun at her temple, and was silently crying. The salt she tasted was not cum, but her tears. She never stopped her sucking, though and soon Becker began to relax. Moments later, he came into her mouth and she swallowed his cum as she buried her face against his pubis and his cock in her throat. After he came, he seemed to sleep, but awoke with a drunken start. He had completely forgotten about killing her. Danka arose silently and returned to her room, not pausing to put her clothes on.

*

Hans' first act of defiance was a small one, but it saved a life. He filed down the firing pins of Becker's two pistols so that when Becker tried to shoot someone for some perceived wrongdoing, they didn't fire - - either one. Hans, now 14, was a man by the standards of the camp and nearly as tall as the commandant, but this fact was lost on Ernst Becker. It wasn't until the Russian advance threatened Becker's kingdom that the true test of manhood came.

The atmosphere in the camp was tense as the news spread that the order to kill all of the prisoners had been delivered to the villa. The prisoners were desperately talking among themselves about how to avoid the expected slaughter, while the guards cleaned their weapons and awaited the order from Becker.

Hans finally checkmated Becker. With the Russians almost at the camp gate, Hans knew the time to act was now or never. Drunk, as usual, Becker did not even hear Hans approach from behind as he dressed in his finest uniform to deliver the order. Seconds later, the lion was truly dead.

Hans put on Becker's uniform, and it was a reasonable fit. Striding confidently onto the veranda of the villa, Hans spoke into the megaphone, confident that his voice would be distorted enough to allow him to imitate Becker. The orders delivered were unexpected, but unquestioned. Becker's temper had alienated even his staff so that even they feared him.

"Juden, stay where you are. Guards, leave your posts and join the soldiers in the infantry unit that is passing the camp. There will be no more killing."

There was no shout of joy from the Jews. The guards quietly obeyed and soon the Jews were alone. Not one of the Jews moved -- or dared to move. Untersturmfeuhrer Becker, as far as they knew, was still in command. And, they could not believe their luck since they had had so little.

The Russians surveyed the camp briefly, but when the commander visited the villa, the Goldbergs were the only living residents. After sparing what food they could, the Russians moved on through Poland towards the heart of Germany. For the residents of Zwangsarbeitslager Plaszow, the war was over.

End of story