Chapter Four

 

 

 

It was barely sunrise when I opened my eyes. The birds had taken over the serenade of the night crickets and a soft pink glow illuminated the bedroom. The Colonel’s movements woke me as he got out of bed and walked to the window. His large frame blocked the light as he stood on his toes and rested his hands on the wall. It took only a moment to register that he was urinating through the window. I made a mental note to retrieve the urinal from under my bed, an oversight that once again, my bladder reminded.

What a novel idea! I thought, piss out the window! If I was only tall enough; A cedar chest at the foot of Beth’s bed would make an ideal perch, and as I struggled to drag it over the floor to mimic his keen sense in answering nature’s call, he laughed at my efforts, picking me up and held me at the window. I doubted that my aunt would have appreciated us watering her roses planted below in such a crude manner, but considering everything else over the past few days since the Nazi arrived, what we did over her rose garden was by far a minor offence.

The man began to dress as I stood watching not knowing why he wished to leave so early or even if I was invited along again. The answer to that question came when he picked up and tossed my trousers and shirt at me. It was obvious that he was in a hurry that morning, foregoing his usual blowjob, important military business, I assumed. Strangely, I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed to be tagging along, each day of missed chores would be another nail in my coffin, but sticking around could also prematurely place me in it! That thought made me shudder, what would be my fate when the Nazi left for good?

We left the house in its quiet slumber and I was elated when he took the passenger seat, arms folded across his big chest and looking as if to ask what the hell I was waiting for. Proud as any boy would be, I jumped in the driver’s seat, he place a helmet on my head, and I did a slap-up job of maneuvering the jeep from the front yard to the highway and safely beyond toward our final destination.

The soldiers at the gate saluted not only the colonel, but looked at me and replayed the outstretched arm and clicking of heels routine. The colonel laughed, as did the two young men, pleased with themselves in earning their senior officer’s amusement. Careful to park the vehicle in front of his office tent and away from mud puddles that a night rain had formed, he smiled and got out.

The scene was the same as the previous morn, the tall man rose from behind the desk to allow the colonel his throne. The men conversed looking over papers. Shortly thereafter, two waiters arrived as if on cue to serve us breakfast. One, a boy of about fifteen kept looking at me expressionless as he went about fussing over our meal. Finally, a slight smile parted his lips and I returned the courtesy. I was flabbergasted when in perfect Polish; he asked if my meal was satisfactory.

The men wrapped up their business a short time later. The tall man stood, his eyes met mine, no words we necessary. I followed behind him like an obedient puppy to the back quarters where we undressed, I performed the same ritual between his legs and once his needs were met, I stood and masturbated as expected.

Jon was present, standing at attention at the door when I entered the office area. Our eyes met and I knew that he knew what had transpired in the back room. I felt embarrassed and surely blushed, he half-smirked - but not in a condescending way - his eyes seemed to speak compassion.

The Colonel looked up from his desk, said something to Jon, scribbled and handed a note to the young soldier. In a harsh voice, Jon ordered me tofollow him and we retreated. He was to be my guardian for another day, which I found most pleasing.

We walked leisurely about the base camp mostly in silence. Well away from the hubbub of the camp activity, Jon placed a finger to his mouth indicating silence and showed me the tented barrack where he bunked. It smelled of body odor and stinky feet. There were some twenty or so cots along each side of the dingy narrow structure. He explained to me that most were used shared sleeping accommodations between the day and night shift enlisted men. Several other similar barracks had been erected side by side. The entire area smelled of stale urine. I thought about my aunt’s rose garden.

The mess hall was nothing like the chef and waiter staffed officer’s mess. Rows and rows of bare rough tables with many young inhabitants seated with bowed heads spooning what appeared be very unappetizing porridge. Others lined up with bowls at the front of the hall waiting for cooks to ladle the thin gruel. Jon was one. I passed, feeling terribly guilty for having bacon, sausage, eggs and waffles not an hour earlier. I did however; accept a mug of tea, not bothering to ask for sugar and milk when none was readily in sight.

What was clearly in sight and hard to miss was a group of boys in civilian clothes like my own seated at a table eating the same slop as two guards looked on nearby. When Jon and I had settled at a distant table I was immediately sorry that I had inquired.

He explained that an early morning raid had been conducted on an orphanage some fifty miles west where military intelligence believed underground resistance operatives were stationed. Finding nothing but priests and boys, and not believing the priests denials, ten younger teen boys were brought back to base for interrogation purposes. All a ruse;

Jon looked around slyly to ensure privacy, leaned over and confided to me that on this day a local Inn would be the venue for several very high ranking Nazi officials arriving from Germany for meetings. The boys were to be provided for their entertainment, courtesy of the good Colonel himself. That explained the early morning jump on the day, the Colonel wanted to ensure his base was ship-shape for any potential inspections by the brass as well as assure himself that the predawn hunting trip was a success and fresh prime meat would be on the menu.

We stopped next at the base commissary where he presented the Colonels note, minutes later a picnic basket was handed off and we made our merry way in the jeep to the same little beach and wasted no time in undressing and heading into the water for a good long time before enjoying our lunch of cheese, pickled herring and bread with fruit for dessert.

Our cocks soon occupied each other’s mouths. Jon straddled my head, hovering just above me, his testicles warmly splayed over my nose and providing me with a somewhat tantalizing glimpse of his rectum that my hands couldn’t resist and dared the parting of his cheeks for a better view. A darker pink than its surroundings, puffy folds quivered ever so slightly; perhaps the result of his heart beat, or perhaps the priming of his orgasm.  I wasn’t prepared to explore any further, though, at least orally, but I wondered what it would be like to fuck him.

I noticed the shadow first, then the cool metal end of a rifle barrel resting between my eyes that came into focus. Jon must have also been aware of company in our presence as my cock lost its warm cocoon sensation to a cooler one. A loud thud was heard immediately followed by an even louder grunt as he was kicked in the side and rolled off me. Two middle aged German soldiers stood menacingly over us pointing machine guns and yelling unintelligible foreign words that Jon screamed back in unintelligible foreign words.

Jon rose to his feet cautiously, his hands above his head with a gun barrel trained on his temple. I remained on the ground with the same unnerving threat. Spread eagle, I didn’t flinch a muscle, not even to cover myself or even close my legs. Slowly and cautiously, Jon ambled his way to the tree where his uniform was hung and pointed. He had at least identified himself as one of them, surely that would show favor on our behalf.

The screaming only intensified directed at Jon who turned crimson and was obviously shaken up. The soldier manhandled him back to where I lay and shoved him to the ground. I hated not understanding what was going, only the words. After leveler heads prevailed, smirks appeared on the two Nazi’s faces. - Polish - and - pretty boy - were clearly ciphered.

Jon looked at me, his eyes wide in fear; he was on the verge of tears and brought me up to date. He was, 1) on duty and out of uniform, 2) engaged in homosexual acts, with an enemy civilian no less, and 3) breach of trust and duties as chaperone to the colonel’s pageboy. Each was a capital offence of its own and punishable by a firing squad.

A pageboy. A So that’s how the colonel’s relationship to me was presented and accepted tongue-in-cheek by the rank and file. A pageboy with benefits no doubt, but I couldn’t dwell on that right then, Jon was in severe trouble and I was the center of it and felt scared; no, paranoid for his well being;

Jon buried his head between his knees and sobbed, his body convulsed uncontrollably. The men let up their sinister stance and lowered their arms. I presumed the soldier standing over the quivering teen was in charge. Three stripes on his shoulder and the more vocal of the two, he knelt down to Jon’s level and conversed in a lowered tone with a devious grin.

Jon looked up at the man in appall, glanced back down in a look of defeat. The man towering above me reacted with a ghost smile; his gun barrel gently skimmed down my torso and proceeded to prod my genitals.

Jon’s foreboding eyes met mine, he looked away in shame. A deal had been struck, that I was sure of; I was the bargaining chip; the Polish pretty boy, - the colonel’s forbidden fruit. That must have added an element of intrigue in itself.

Like the unfortunate boys in the woods, I was dragged to straddle a downed tree. The men shed their munitions belts to the ground, downed their trousers, each began taking shared liberties upon my mouth. I wasn’t a fool; I played the submissive role, not for fear of anything else knowing that I was surely saving Jon’s life, a small price to pay.

The sergeant smelled atrocious, like rotten meat. Nauseating was the sight under the foreskin. Early on, my father stressed the importance of cleanliness, instilled in me a fear of infection, having to succumb himself to painful circumcision late in life. I wanted to vomit, when he pulled my hair and forced me back to mouth the gross flaccid meat. His long fat cock was slow to respond, unlike his impatient accomplice who was all but shoving his superior aside, his veiny member drooling its copious slime.

Deciding not to share, the sergeant ordered Jon over and to his knees to service the subordinate. Both Jon and the soldier appeared contrite, however neither made comment to the breach of ethics among the low level enlisted men. Perhaps the sergeant deemed Jon a homosexual anyway, justifying the order given.

Moments later, the sergeant was fully erect and quite a mouthful. I wondered if the scene beside us had encouraged his excitement. Much larger than even the colonel, the sides of my mouth were painfully stretched and it was impossible not to scrape the shaft with my teeth while he viciously mouth fucked me. Not for long. My prayers that he would cum went unanswered when he pulled away from me and stepped over the log. I was going to be brutally sodomized; that, I knew was inevitable.

And brutal it was. He had made little progress entering me, but enough that I knew tearing had occurred. The more frustrated he got the more physical he became, punching me in the side and spine, or pulling my hair as if I was somehow at fault. The tree bark dug into my belly and groin like dull razors, but I just wanted him to stop hitting me and I would endure the other tortures.

I had one hope, a shot in the dark. I yelled to Jon to tell the sergeant that the colonel resided at my home and I was his fuck boy; that he would see the marks on my body and question them and that I was prepared to tell him everything. That worked. The beating had stopped, I guessed that a third his cock was lodged inside me and going no further, deflating rapidly.

If the sergeant’s expression was anything like the other soldier, eyes bulging and mouth agape quickly pulling up his trousers, I couldn’t see. Jon later said it was first, one of disbelief, a bluff about to be called, then deciding there could be some credence to my status, it turned to hatred more than fear, perhaps humiliated that his young enemy has become sudden victor.

A hard slap to my ass immediately followed the extraction of his mammoth cock. The void was a great relief, as was the loud fart, but no one was laughing. I remained slumped over the log thinking it prudent to keep a low profile as long as possible, at least until the man had dressed and crawled over the downed tree that I felt served as a barrier between us.

The sergeant was in Jon’s face screaming, his forefinger jabbing Jon’s forehead before a shove sent the naked teen splayed to the ground, his head striking a large stone with a thud. The men pilfered our picnic basket before heading down the shoreline and soon out of sight when I ran to Jon’s aide. He was unconscious and bleeding profusely. My mom, a nurse, I remembered saying that a head wound always looked worse than it was, but his comatose state had me afraid. Holding him in my arms wondering what to do, he opened his eyes not seconds later complaining of a headache. I laughed, he snickered.

We cleaned ourselves up in the lake. The bleeding had stopped from the small gash on his head; a small bald spot marked the abrasion. I commented on his premature hair loss, he retorted that I could now securely sit on a fence post during a windstorm, we both laughed, dunking each other. The horror not long ago not forgotten, but made light of;

On the drive back to base, Jon told me that the sergeant’s final words threatened that he, the sergeant, and the subordinate, would have Jon at their mercy for sexual favors thereafter. I felt awful. Somehow responsible, however, even if I had left the man to brutalize me, the outcome for Jon would not have changed, I reasoned.

Jon remised  that we should have been more cautious, the Nazi’s had recently formed a very tight two mile perimeter patrol to protect the base from possible enemy assault, not considering that the lakeshore would be considered a strategic defense point. In hindsight, it was logical.

The colonel was seated at his desk when Jon delivered me late that afternoon and excused himself. He barely acknowledged my presence, studying what was a very large map, inking notations on it as I sat quietly off to the side twiddling my thumbs for what was a very long time.

The cute waiter boy from breakfast knocked and let himself in, taking a seat beside me. Blond, blue eyed finely chiseled features and dressed in civilian trousers that the bottom hems rode high revealing his stocking feet within a pair of well worn shoes, Suspenders were snug over a knit sweater that I thought much too warm an attire in the stifling heat. I doubted he was a soldier, his appearance resembling that of a farm boy like me.

I wanted to make conversation with the Polish speaking lad, but the colonel’s demeanor was rigid, an air of expected silence dominated the office as he concentrated on his work. Like a couple of school boys, we winked and made funny faces at each other. The odd tehee slipped causing the man to raise his eyes occasionally, but he never scolded us. Once, he even managed a hint of a smile.

Claus was his name, almost fifteen and non military. As a member of the Nazi Youth program, he was brought along as a pageboy to do domestic chores for the elitists; laundry, cleaning quarters, cleaning guns or even polishing boots and sometimes waiter duties. It was quite apparent that the senior echelon spared no expense to make the best of the hardships of war.

I learned all this from Claus as we sat alone in the jeep outside an inn, the same inn that I was sure that great military minds were planning the final details of execution of my home city. The same powerful prestigious men that would enjoy the company of innocent Polish boys whom were perhaps yet unawares as to the very carnal reason they were taken there.

I shivered in fear when the colonel drove into the Inn’s parking lot, thinking that I would also be adorning someone’s bed for the night. Claus’ presence was still a mystery, perhaps he was a sacrificial lamb as well, yet that didn’t make sense, he was one of them. However, nothing made sense anymore; the Nazis seemed a whimsical, unpredictable lot. Who did what to whom had no boundaries, hypocritical from the top level down, I was beginning to rationalize.

The colonel wasn’t long inside the stately, vine covered mortar constructed building. Disillusioned was I as to his stature for not being included in the strategic talks, maybe only given a short spot light to offer his assessment and readiness of the hundreds of troops under his command.

A bit put out was I when he directed Claus to chauffeur us to a destination that turned out to be my home. It was well past supper time by then; my uncle seemed distraught standing outside the barn when we pulled up. Still limping on his sore feet inside his well worn boots, he greeted us with congeniality, yelling for his wife to prepare a latened dinner. He looked at Claus in a curious way, no different than I questioned the boy’s person at our home.

My uncle took on a saddened look even before we left the jeep. Speaking English, that Claus interpreted; another multi linguist that I had to admire, filled me in as we all made our way to the barn. Betha, the cow, was in distressed labor. Once inside the barn, the colonel removed his shirt and knelt at the rear of the downed animal placing his hands inside the beast’s cavity, concentrating  with his eyes toward the ceiling, he manipulated the unborn calf from a breach birth position pulling the tiny legs out until nature took its course. I swear Bertha looked up from behind at the colonel and mooed an appreciative moo, seconded by my very relieved uncle, only in a different tongue.

It so happened to be Monday bath night, the large tin tub hauled into the kitchen on such regular occasions that my aunt fussed about heating kettles of water to keep it tepid warm that Beth had just vacated standing wrapped in a large towel when us men entered the soap scented house. She blushed at the sight of Claus who smiled, turning crimson himself at the near naked pretty girl two years his junior. My aunt shooed Beth from the kitchen to bed when she noticed the gawking young stranger in their midst.

I dreaded bath nights, having to quickly strip naked and timidly submerge myself in a fetal position while my aunt washed my hair before leaving me to cleanse myself in semi privacy while she fussed about the kitchen, still too close for comfort as far as I was concerned. I missed the huge claw footed tub back home where a boy could safely jerk off provided he was the last user and pull the plug to erase the flotsam evidence.

The colonel knelt before the tub to cleanse the blood and goop from his hands and arms. If my aunt had any plans of me taking a bath, I was grateful to the man for unknowingly tainting the water on my behalf, saving me the embarrassment in front of Claus, who most probably would have been subjected to the same humiliation had my aunt had her child domineering way. Thankfully, the tub was bailed and hauled back outside to serve as water trough for the animals.

Auntie prepared a feast of sandwiches from leftovers in the icebox. Hot soup was ladled, made from outdated meats and vegetables added daily to the huge ever-simmering iron pot to meld. Always thick and delicious, impossible to name the ever changing concoction, referred to only as “soup.”

My uncle seeing opportunity in having another set of arms to not only assist in my chores, but add other ones to the list that my aunt quickly vetoed as being much too late to perform, as she strode off to bed. Nice try though, unc! I thought. Claus and I played chess at the table instead, much to the man’s displeasure that the drunker he got, the more irritated he became.

Claus interpreted and whispered most all of the two adult conversations. One I found particularly alarming. The Nazi casually told my uncle that he brought the boy home to lose his virginity and fuck my virgin cousin, a reward bestowed Nazi boys loyal to the party, a rite-of-passage into manhood.

Uncles face drained of blood, I thought he was having a heart attack gasping for air as he clutched his chest. Claus’ eyes were as wide as my own in shock; however I detected a certain glimmer of nervous pride in his demeanor seconds later. He sat up straight and took on a serious, mature masculine look. I had no doubt that he was keen on the idea of intercourse with my cousin. I wanted to beg him not to, but the words came out garbled. Until that moment I never realized how much I cared for Beth, - the awkward little girl with noticeable developing boobies always under my feet asking stupid questions like how the chickens mated in comparison to having seen the obvious mammals in the act, typical farm life exposure to nature’s ability to procreate that especially I, the city boy, was at first awed by. As for the chickens, I didn’t have a clue.

The little girl that sometimes found excuse to linger in the kitchen helping her mother, while I cowered modestly in my baths waiting for the right moment to rise and don a towel a split second away from both females’ eyes that may or may not have gotten an occasional glance of my bare ass;

I didn’t need interpretation as my uncle, shaking like a leaf, blubbered on in a mix of English and Polish in his confused state begging the man to have mercy, even offering his experienced wife to take the young man’s virginity.

The colonel templed his fingers to his face in great thought. A glance at Claus showed disappointment in the bargaining of his virginal fate. He peered at the colonel with anticipation hoping the man would not be swayed by the weeping bag of bones who couldn’t even pick up his tumbler of vodka without missing his mouth and finally dropping the glass to shatter upon the table.

The aura was thick with tension awaiting the powerful entities prolonged, nerve wracking decision. I prayed that my aunt would be the sacrificial lamb and my cousin spared. My bones and muscles ached in tense angst, I dared not breathe. No one expected what happened next.

to be continue . . .

 

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