The Nazi's Boy
By Rob Loveboy

Chapter Six



   I lay in a corner of the bed and tried to make sense.  Claus was
strange. I wanted to like him, and did when he wasn't under the influence
of the colonel.  He had an evil streak no different than the man who
ironically rescued him from the brothel only to make him his private
whore-boy that he discriminately loaned to other men that the colonel
either wanted a favor from, or perhaps even to wage blackmail against.

   Claus had mentioned that so many men came to his bedroom that he would
report to the colonel exact details of what sexual acts the men were into.
Claus claimed that some men only wanted to receive oral or perform anal
sex, whereas others would perform oral on him or get fucked by him.  Those
were the men that the colonel was most interested in.  The Nazi's obviously
had a double standard on what constituted homosexuality.  Without a doubt,
the colonel was a secret one himself; still, knowledge is power, the
hypocrisy notwithstanding.  His motives a mystery to my young naïve friends
sense of adult power games.  That information only reinforced my theory
that sex was indeed a double edged sword; pleasure and power.

   I thought again of the innocent children's game of `eye-spy' we played
in the jeep, then I saw him holding a gun to uncle's head and tempting fate
by pulling the trigger.  I saw him anxious to molest my cousin, settling
instead on fucking my aunt.  The latter atrocity I wanted to lay blame on
the Nazi for, but couldn't.  I could only blame him for not interceding to
protect the woman who fed him, albeit, she ended up a pawn, unfortunate
collateral damage in his mind.

   Claus had been very kind to me sexually.  He could easily have taken
advantage of me in the barn away from his handler.  The thought had
occurred to me when he wanted to check on the animals; instead he petted
the beasts and uttered soothing words to them as he told me his sad life
story.

   The offer of oral sex without expectation of reciprocation took me back.
Claus didn't stand to profit anything by it, on the contrary, perhaps even
risked depreciating himself to me considering he wasn't being forced in any
way.  I mulled that over and over in my mind; there was something relevant
that had to do with my relationship with the colonel.  Could the boy have
detected exactly what my uncle had perceived, and that what I, was
beginning to sense was the colonel's odd benevolence toward his pretty boy?
No obvious display of jealousy, but an adversary that Claus reasoned was
one to be reckoned with for whatever his reasons?

   My final thoughts before dozing off was were those of an immature
fourteen year old boy stepping off a train, who was without a doubt
intellectually stunted well below his physical age by pampering, well-off,
protective parents; to that of a fourteen year old boy suddenly forced well
beyond his years into a harsh reality of wits to survive.

   I hated that rooster, never getting used to its annoying daily revelry
that woke up everything avian and animal into an ill-tuned chorus of noise,
all complaining to be fed.  In the city it was the clippity-clop of horse
hooves on the cobblestone, street vendors making their way to set up their
kiosks, but at least at a reasonable hour after sunrise.  Without a doubt,
if ever a rooster found its way into the city it would be hunted down and
strangled for disturbing the peace and end up a soup simmering on
somebody's stove.

   Usually what followed was a clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen, my
aunt preparing breakfast, the aroma enough to drag me out of bed a short
time later.  Beth would be seated in her nightgown endlessly nattering
about whatever was on her mind, her small boobies hinted under the material
getting a tad too small for her.  Nobody but me seemed to notice the petite
perky nipples exposed every once in awhile depending on her movements that
I was mildly curious about and beat myself up with guilt thinking about
them when I played with myself.

   My uncle would be busy reciting and writing out chores for me to perform
over and above my usual daily doldrums, work on the farm seemed never
ending and I wondered how he managed the upkeep before I arrived. 
Sometimes my aunt would intervene and allow Beth and I to go for a late
afternoon swim in the nearby river, me clad in an old pair of my uncle's
trousers that she cut off at the knees that I had to tie with a rope, Beth
in proper ladies bathing attire.

   There was to be no breakfast that morning, the rooster could wail all he
wanted, the small house was in a shroud of silence except for the stirring
of three naked forms, none of whom bothered with the bed clothes rumpled at
the foot of the bed.  The air was hot and damp, our bodies clammy and the
unique spicy redolence of masculinity was not unpleasing to the senses.

   The colonel rolled onto his back.  Not having to be encouraged and
without trepidation, Claus and I shared the man's cock and balls with
mutual moxie, perhaps with rival enthusiasm, even.  The whore-boy stole the
competition by delving below the man's testicles that he held high above as
he grossly laved the nether regions, his face glimmering with slick saliva.
In unison, I mouthed and masturbated the very ecstatic, whimpering man,
feeling pleased at myself for being a zealous contributor.

   I couldn't believe my eyes when as if on cue, Claus raised the man's
legs and impaled himself in the man and fucked him vigorously.  The colonel
yelped and immediately I tasted his warm tangy semen whichdeluged forth it
rattled the man's body.  His barrage of incomprehensible, throaty hoarse
words I felt rest assured were well meaning, grabbing my hair in his fist
only a reactionary impulse.  Claus was not long until his own body
shuddered and he mouthed a mix of English and Polish profanities.  I envied
him and began to second guess my inflated foolish notions that I held some
kind of place over his homosexual boy-whore.

   As we dressed, the colonel finally noticed the bruises on my back and
chafed chest as I knew he would eventually.  My concocted story of falling
on some rocks, I discarded.  When Claus was asked to interpret the cause, I
saw an opportunity to find out where I stood in the man's graces and
revealed that I had been raped by two of his soldiers.  The man appeared
ready to explode, the red and purple veins in his neck and forehead
appeared pronounced as he seethed, digesting the unfathomable.

   He regained his composure and asked more questions of who, where and
what in a nonchalant demeanor while he primped himself into his uniform
standing in front of the mirror.  I regretted my selfish stupidity when the
inevitable question was asked as to the whereabouts of Jon in his dutiful
assignment as caregiver during my alleged rape.  I hadn't thought that out,
foolishly put Jon in harm's way.

   I fumbled for explanation to protect Jon and claimed the one man was a
sergeant, far superior to Jon, who threatened him into silence and turning
a blind eye even though Jon pleaded the man to believe that I was the
colonels valet which only seemed to compel the sergeant's desire even more,
relaying negative opinion of the commander, I lied through my teeth.

   As we passed, the curtain was open revealing an empty bed where Beth had
been sleeping.  Obviously, my uncle and aunt were taking no chances having
the madman and his young accomplice still about the house that they
perceived as a legitimate threat and removed Beth to the safety of their
bedroom where the family remained cowering in fear until they heard the
screen door slam and the jeep start-up.  They needn't have worried; the
colonel was preoccupied with something more important than breakfast being
served.

   Claus drove the vehicle, which irked me.  Amateur at best, he fumbled
with the gears needing the colonel to direct him.  Jon had taught me well.
I sulked in the rear seat.  Halfway to base, the colonel instructed me to
drive, and I gloated, mastering every gear without metallic complaint.

   Jon.  I had to get to him to collaborate my lies in case the colonel
interrogated him, that, of which I was certain would happen and fear
overwhelmed me that I would be caught in a lie and both, Jon and I would
pay our own price.  Him a firing squad.  Me, falling from the man's grace
as a liar if only to protect Jon; and subjected to becoming just another
boy-whore as was Claus.

   I needn't have worried.  The moment we stepped into the colonel's office
the major stood and saluted and with a grave seriousness relayed something
to the colonel.  Claus was perplexed and on the verge of tears.  He told me
that Jon had been severely beaten during the night and was in the infirmary
under intensive care.  The naked boy was discovered at dawn by two
mechanics in the munitions compound, he had been sodomized with a metal
pipe.

   The colonel glared at me, he believed every word I said then.  Through
Claus, he reaffirmed the time and location of my assault, a detailed
description of the men involved and then screamed orders at the bewildered
man behind the desk to get duty rosters for the previous day.  The man
flipped pages in a binder and had the information the colonel demanded, the
grid patrol location narrowed down to ten sentries.

   Almost dislocating my shoulder, the colonel grabbed my arm and stormed
us out the door; Claus and the man I served each morning were in hot
pursuit.  The enlisted men's mess was our destination.  A hundred or so men
and teens ate breakfast and became silent in wonder as the colonel led me
by the neck aisle by aisle.  No one had to tell me why.

   I spotted the younger man first; he looked me in the eye and started to
cry shaking uncontrollably.  He was the one who pointed out my aggressor
seated not five chairs away looking like death warmed up recognizing me,
his eyes wide and white with blood webbing the tiny veins and his jaw
flapping, unable to form words.

   There would be no court martial, no trial, no plea for forgiveness.  The
colonel upholstered his side arm and shot the man between the eyes.  I had
never seen such gore.  His head exploded, blood and grey matter splashed
everywhere splattering the men unfortunate enough to have been close by.

   He abruptly turned his attention to the younger man stricken in fear
attempting to flee from his chair and before I could tell the truth to
spare the man's life, the back of his head turned into a crimson mush and
he fell to the floor.  I felt horrible.  He never raped or beat me, I lied
and a young man was executed for it.  I would have nightmares over that for
a lifetime.

   The colonel holstered his gun, put his arm around my neck and walked me
away from the carnage.  I was crying, sobbing heavily, telling him the
truth of the other man's limited involvement that he didn't understand,
Claus grabbed my arm and sneered, telling me to shut up escorting me along
with the colonel away from the nightmarish scene.

   We visited Jon; unrecognizable as the handsome young teen that he was;
on the verge of death.  I held his lifeless hand and bawled.  I had an
earlier premonition that he was in danger, I was remorseful for not having
told the colonel earlier.  Jon died later that day.

   When the news was delivered to the coronel working at his desk, and me,
sitting nearby, not bored, but indifferent to my surroundings, lost in
thought.  Claus had been dismissed earlier.  The colonel's face lowered
telling all, and when the messenger had left, he beckoned me to him,
hoisting me to his lap in an embrace.  As God as my maker, the colonel let
down his protective guard and cried with me.

   Our grieving moment was soon interrupted by a knock on the door.  A
soldier entered and saluted and said something to which the colonel became
alert and ushered me back to my chair.  Claus entered and smiled at me
warmly and took a stance beside the colonel .  One by one the ten kidnapped
boys were ushered into the office.  The colonel was extremely friendly
showing them a photo album, Claus interpreted as the boys picked out photos
of officials they had spent the night with and what they did with the men.
Knowledge was power, and the colonel was again on a fishing expedition to
gather Intel on some very powerful men within the Nazi party.  It was
business as usual, Jon's death forgotten.

   The colonel assigned me another babysitter, an older, no nonsense type
man.  There would be no joy riding or picnics on the beach.  He ordered the
guards to take eight of the boys down to the beach; obviously, the Nazi
still had use for them.  The two boys he held back were around my age and
when he told my chaperone to take me, Claus, and the two lads to the
commissary for lunch and then to the lake for a bath.

   Alex and Damon were just as baffled as I was and if Claus knew what the
colonel's motives for holding them back was, he wasn't saying.  Neither boy
was blond nor blue eyed.  Alex had long jet-black hair, Damon was a
brunette.  I supposed that they were handsome, perhaps more so than the
others, remembering that they were all selected and taken from the
orphanage based on their appealing features to satisfy the lust of men at
the Inn.

   The only indication of the eight others was a pile of clothing in the
sand where I assumed they were stripped and bathed before being taken into
the woods.  A handful of soldiers were present bathing and shaving and I
guessed plenty more were hidden away beyond the tree line.  Alex and Damon
had no idea how lucky they were, Claus nor I saw the need to clue them into
the whereabouts of their friends whose clothes were strangely left behind.
For some reason, I don't know why, but I saw a shred of hope in the fact
that no bonfire was being fueled by trousers, shirts and shoes.

   Our guardian, Heir Personality, watched us strip.  Claus began a sexy
strip-tease dance, lasciviously staring down the Nazi that I found
hilarious and joined him in leading-on the man standing with his rifle butt
hiding the strain in his trousers.  Alex and Damon couldn't possibly be
wise to the effect that four naked boys' was having on the horny man,
shocked that we dare make a fool of the soldier.  We had no fear of the
man, we were the colonel's valets and he knew it.  Nothing would have
pleased him more than to throttle us and haul our sorry asses into the
trees.

   I was enjoying debasing the soldier far too much, dropping to my knees
and seductively motioning him to come closer for a blowjob.  Claus bent
over and spread his cheeks, begging the man to fuck him.  The defeated man
cursed us, told us to hurry and bathe, then turned and headed for shade. 
We roared in laughter when Claus yelled after him to have a good wank and a
solemn warning that jerking off will make him go blind.

   We didn't hurry to bathe, much to the soldier's frustration who finally
gave up shouting at us.  We frolicked and jostled each other in a game of
shoulder-riding wrestling to bring down the opponent.  For a long while I
didn't think about Jon, we were boys being boys and the rest of the world's
evil doers could fuck-off and wait!

   Marching the nazi goose-step back to camp, we continued to ride the poor
man's wits.  Each time he swiveled his head to ensure his goslings were all
in tow, we would stop and salute and sound off, "Heil Hitler!" Driving him
fucking nuts, so we did it; right through the security gate, to the
amusement of the sentries, and all the way to the colonel's office whom was
none too pleased at the soldier for his tardiness.  The man tried to
explain our disobedience but was shouted at and berated for his
incompetence and dismissed in shame.  The colonel looked at us with scorn,
then smiled and chuckled.

   It was when he loaded us into the jeep and headed the way home did I
realize his intentions and the fact that his inevitable agenda was that I
was going to have sex with Alex, Damon and of course, again with Claus. 
The thought wasn't unappealing in the least.  The unappealing thought was
my uncle, aunt and cousin and their welfare.  I dreaded another night of
angst and worry.

   I needn't have worried.  Missing from the front yard was my uncle's
beaten old truck.  No chickens scurried out of harm's way when we drove up
to the house, the old nag wasn't at the fence bobbing her head and neighing
a friendly welcome in hopes of an apple treat.  Nor were the pigs in their
pen rolling in mud, and I could have sworn I'd seen Bertha and her baby in
the neighbor's field up the road, verified when I peaked in the empty barn.


   The family had fled their home unable to endure another night of their
unwelcome guest.  They had taken anything of value and ironically, had left
me behind, abandoned.  I felt hurt, insignificant, yet a part of me was
relieved that they were somewhere safe as a family.  I pictured Beth crying
after me, my aunt's guilt in betraying her sister, and my uncle's
good-riddance of me.

   The wooden swastika that hung on their door and protected them lay on
the porch burnt, my uncle's first bout of heroics before running away.  An
act of sacrilege vandalism that would insult the Nazi that somehow I knew
would be the stupidest mistake the squirrel could ever have made.  To his
credit, uncle left an unopened bottle of vodka in the pantry.  The colonel
beamed in delight at the sight of me holding it up in triumph.  A move that
I thought sure would calm the man's mood, although he didn't seem all that
put out by events, probably only disappointed that auntie would not be
serving a nice meal that evening.

   Claus and I would make up for that, or at least we hoped as much by
preparing a large chicken for roasting and dicing up potatoes and carrots
and celery all tossed into the roasting pan with a good helping of butter
and a variety of unknown spice found in the pantry.  The oven stoked and
wood added, we all sat at the table and drank vodka, hoping for the best.

   Alex and Damon were relaxed.  Little did they know that they were on the
menu for dessert.  The colonel fancied each boy sitting on a leg.  The
conversation tables were turned, Claus was officially the interpreter and
it wasn't until then that I realized the similarities of Polish and German
dialect if one's ear was tuned into it and could grasp the not too distant
analogies.  Or hell, maybe the vodka spoke a unified language.

   My first experience under the influence left me giddy, and then
melancholy.  I fought back tears thinking of Jon.  I loved him, and he
loved me.  Confusingly wrong as that it was so right.  I took solace in
that Jon never wanted to be a soldier, he walked the walk and talked the
talk, but there wasn't an evil bone in his body no matter what the doctrine
was being shoved down his throat.  He was a misfit in an army of misfits
all hiding their true individualities bastardized at the merciless hands of
already brainwashed men.

   Jon would go home in a wooden box as a hero, killed in the line of duty,
returned to his grieving parents.  They would look at photo albums and
reminisce.  Jon's birthdays, Christmas' and family vacations.  His
graduation from the Nazi Youth, all so handsomely decked out in his
uniform, a man at last, ready to serve his misguided country's belief in
racial superiority.  Yes, I was well beyond my fourteen years.  I also knew
that I was expected to partake in the second rape of the two giggly orphan
boys being tickled in the lap of a very devious man.  The very same devious
man that put a bullet in the heads of men that harmed me, and without a
doubt, killed Jon.  If that didn't prove that he loved me . . .  !

   Dinner was passable.  The bird carcass picked clean, the colonel raved
about our culinary skills.  It was I that sat upon his lap after dinner,
his tongue occasionally swiping my neck and ears, his hand seldom left my
crotch that only he and I knew the excitement that that petting had
instigated hidden beneath the material.

   He was noticeably relaxed and content within his company of boys, a
jovial side of him never seen before as he never lost his pearly white
smile and did mysterious tricks with playing-cards and coins, amazingly,
finding a few down my pants earning me a squeeze of my shaft while he was
down there.  We learned that his grandfather was a magician and taught him
the slight-of-hand while he was growing up, spending summers with the man
on his farm.  His knowledge in doctoring Bertha's breech-calf was
understood, not that I had given it much thought before then, but another
feather in his cap, in my ever-growing good opinion of him.

   The master bedroom with the large feather-stuffed mattress was the
logical choice of venue made by the colonel.  Alex and Damon looked on in
confusion as the colonel, Claus and I began to undress.  Claus was blunt,
coldly informing the two boys that sex was expected of them no different
than with whichever man they spent the previous night with.  He then
followed up in telling them about the fate of their clothless peers, and
how the colonel took favor upon them, warned not to disappoint the kind man
and do whatever they were told without hesitation or he, would be forced to
strangle the life out of them.  All said with a callous smile that
frightened even me.  The evil Claus was back, henchman of the devil
himself.

   to be continued . . .
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The Nazi's Boy-6