Date: Tue, 7 Dec 2004 21:57:25 -0500
From: edcwriter@yahoo.com
Subject: CASTLE MARGARETHEN - 5

CASTLE MARGARETHEN - 5

Copyright 2004 by Carl Mason and Ed Collins

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 authors.  Comments on the story are
appreciated and may be addressed to the authors at edcwriter@yahoo.com

However based on real events and places, "Castle Margarethen" is strictly
fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.  Most of the story takes place in Nazi
Germany during the year 1943. Further, the major characters are members of
the SS, most young, a few older. We explore their motivations and mixed
feelings as human beings for whom the Fuehrer's message was truth. At the
same time, however, your authors would make clear their condemnation of the
Nazi ideology and atrocities committed by the Schutzstaffel (the
SS). Indeed, we condemn ALL organizations, ideologies, and individuals who
do harm to humanity and restrict the growth of the human spirit.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between adult males and
male teenagers.  As such, it 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!


CHAPTER 5

(Revisiting Chapter 4)

As [Eugen] climbed into bed next to his buddy, it's true that he was
exhausted.  Nevertheless, for the first time in quite a while, his mind was
at ease.  Though he couldn't speak for others, he knew exactly what he had
to do to respond to the harassment.

(Continuing Our Story: Return to Brinley-on-Thames, England, November 2004)

Will Cross knew that he was reading his grandfather's diary too late into
the night.  (If his mother ever caught him, he would surely hear about it!)
To be completely honest, he had been tired at school recently.  Further,
the latest entries had so excited him that he had actually developed a
slight sore on his fast-growing dick!  'Man, oh man, Jens and Sergeant
Burmann were really something!' he thought as his hard cock pulsed and
demanded his attention.  As a twinge of concern for Eugen passed through
him, he also knew that the story was about considerably more than sex.  Dad
had been so great!  Will Cross, English descendent of the German Kreuzes,
had been able to go his father with questions about any word or idea since
he had found the diary in the dusty attic chest.  The problem, of course,
was that he hadn't gone to his father with EVERY concern.  Tomorrow, they
would go on a fishing trip to Selton Moor.  Did he really dare to speak to
his father about the two biggest questions that had recently been troubling
his mind and...er...other places?

God that water was cold!  Though he was proud of the fish that he had
caught - much larger that his dad's - Will was VERY happy to find himself
sitting for a few minutes in a protected spot on the banks of the small
Selton River.  The bare branches and the pale sky made the hot tea that he
was sipping from a large thermos and the fresh pastry purchased on the way
taste even better!  And there were some sandwiches and other goodies that
his mother had sent along for lunch later!  "You cold, William?" his dad
asked solicitously.  "A little..." Will admitted and scrunched up to his
father a little closer.  Yeah, that felt good!  "Dad," he began, "there are
a couple of things in the diary that are bothering me.  Could we talk about
them for a bit?"  "Surely, son, go ahead."  "Do you remember where Sergeant
Burmann is talking to the class about the problems they are having
with...the sex?  He says...wait, I have it written down somewhere... he
says, 'FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR COUNTRY, YOUR FAMILY, AND OTHERS WHOM YOU LOVE,
ARE YOU WILLING TO DISREGARD SOME OF THE THINGS YOU'VE BEEN TAUGHT AND DO
WHATEVER'S NECESSARY FOR VICTORY?'  Now, I've always read that the SS were
a bunch of monsters, murdering innocent civilians and trying to destroy an
entire race, the Jews.  But, dad, especially in war, doesn't EVERY
government ask just about the same thing of its people?  It seems to me
that Churchill did - and Field Marshall Montgomery was no saint!  And how
about the American President and the way Iraqis are being treated in their
prisons - or Afghans at the prison in Cuba?  I just don't believe that is
accidental.  It comes down straight from Number 10 Downing Street or from
the White House.  It says, 'Do anything that's necessary for victory.'
When it goes too far, our criticism turns into hypocrisy.

Will's father looked at his son with even greater love...and some newfound
admiration.  'The boy is growing up,' he thought proudly.  "Well, Will, we
could ask whether such criticism is FAIR, but isn't there a more important
question?  Namely, is it RIGHT for people to tell you to disregard the
moral laws you've learned and do whatever's necessary for victory?  After
all, we sat in our pew right in front of Father Simpson at St. Stephen's
last Sunday when he preached, 'The end never justifies the means.'  Do you
understand what I'm asking."  "I think I do, Dad, but what would have
happened if the Germans had won the war?  Wouldn't everyone have had to
chant, 'Wenn der Fuehrer spricht, folge ich?'  That seems to be a pretty
bad 'moral law' to me!"  William's father hit hard: "Is it at all possible
that NO 'moral law' can absolutely tell us what to do - that being a human
child of God, means that you are responsible for using your reason and your
conscience to WORK OUT what's right to do in different situations?  You're
not going to ignore your principles - that would be stupid - but you're
going to look at other factors such as constraints on your action, the
forcefulness or immediacy of the problem, and the possible consequences of
acting in one way as contrasted with another."  "Hum-m-m...  That might
mean that in their situation, Eugen and the other guys were RIGHT to take
part in homosexual sex," the tow-headed 13 year-old mused.  Not quite ready
to TOUCH that one, Dad suggested that if they were going to catch any more
fish, they had better be about it!  Indeed, before lunch, they had each
landed another nice one.

"If I remember, William, you said that TWO things were bothering you.
What's the second?"  "Pass another sandwich, please?  They're really good!"
Will mumbled, fighting for time.  He wasn't AT ALL sure that he was as
brave now as he had been in bed last night.  In the language of his peers,
he thought, 'How to say it without Dad thinking I'm a bleedin' poofter?'
[If they were of a mind to do so, Americans might translate this as "a
fuckin' queer"].  "Dad," he began (VERY) hesitantly, "I'm... growing up.  I
really like being able to talk with you as we did at break this morning.
Some other parts of growing up, however, aren't so easy."  (Will no longer
felt the cold wind.  As a matter of fact, his face was flushed and he was
sweating buckets!  Inhaling, he plunged on.)  "Dad, when I read what Eugen
and Jens and Sergeant Burmann are doing, I get awfully...awfully..."
"Hard?" his father asked, trying to help the young lad out of his misery.
"Yeah!  Hard!"  Looking down at Will over the top of his head, his father
noticed what he was talking about.  Clearly, he was growing there, as well!
As a matter of fact, at least four inches (10.16 cm) of very hard flesh
were vigorously pushing up against the fabric of his trousers.

"One does worry about that sort of thing - especially when it happens in
the wrong place and/or at the wrong time - but I am afraid, old son, that
it's just something that all of us go through when we change from boys to
men.  I did; you are; your sons will.  Though you must learn to set limits,
it's best simply to enjoy the new feelings!  Getting hard at your age is
nothing to worry about."  "Dad, that's not what I mean," Will whispered.
"Does it mean that I'm...homosexual?"  It was the father's turn to inhale.
Without needing to think, he reached down, put his hand under Will's chin,
and gently lifted his face towards him.  Not unexpectedly, the boy was
blushing heavily and there were tears in his eyes.  Hugging his son tightly
to him, he said, "Will, I'm not able to give you a perfect answer to that
question, and I'm sorry...so very sorry.  I WILL answer as honestly as I
always try to answer your questions.  In brief, it's a bit early to tell.
In a relatively short time - perhaps, in only a year or two - you will
know.  More importantly, however, I can tell you something else right now.
It won't make a shred of difference to me or to your mother if you turn out
to be heterosexual or homosexual.  We love you more than anything on this
earth.  What is called 'sexual orientation' has absolutely NOTHING to do
with that.  Though we're not completely sure, your grandfather, my father,
was probably homosexual.  I loved him beyond belief - and so did your
mother."  "But, DAD!" Will objected, his voice breaking for the first of
countless times.  "He...fathered you!"  "That, old chap, is a story for
another day," his father answered, a wide grin (as well as relief at having
dodged several thousand bullets) on his face.  "Now, let's get this mess
cleaned up.  I'm going to catch a fish three times the size of any minnow
you've hooked!"  "HA, fat chance!" Will retorted.

(August 1943 - Schloss Margarethen, Deutschland)

As Colonel Kreuze completed the morning announcements that always followed
breakfast, he looked up as was his wont and asked if anyone had something
to add.  Eugen rose and stiffly marched to the open space in the center of
the four student tables, facing the head table at which the Colonel stood.
Snapping to full attention and rigidly saluting, he said, "Herr
Standartenfuehrer [SS-Colonel], I wish to issue the formal challenge open
to any SS soldier!"  "That is your right, Herr Rottenfuehrer
[SS-Corporal]," the Commandant responded formally.  "What is the nature of
your grievance?"  ('The Old Man [i.e., the commanding officer] was ready
for this one,' Sergeant Burmann thought, working hard to repress a grin.)
"Herr Standartenfuehrer, I charge that the men of Squad 4 have
systematically interfered with my squad as we have tried to obey orders
issued by our officers, specifically, you, Major Storch, and Sergeant
Instructor Burmann."  Chiefly for the benefit of Squads 1 and 3, as well as
any staff members who did not have the full story, Eugen detailed the
several instances of harassment, culminating with the painting of the pink
triangle on the Second Squad door.  ('Damn!' Sergeant Burmann grinned to
himself.  'It's almost as if he's reading from the Book!')  "And what
redress do you seek?" the Colonel intoned.  In the traditional language of
the Challenge, Eugen answered, "I beg that you privilege me, Herr
Standartenfuehrer, by ordering a 'no rules' match between the ranking
enlisted man of the Fourth Squad and your loyal soldier and petitioner."
(A buzz ran through the room that Kreuze silenced with a raised hand.)
"Your petition is granted, Herr Rottenfuehrer.  Major Storch and Sergeants
Bayer and Burmann will kindly meet with me in my office immediately on
dismissal.  Students!  Today's classes are delayed.  You will now stand
down.  When you hear FOUR bells, you will assemble in the auditorium."  On
a nod from his Commandant, Major Storch cried, "Dismissed!")

"Gentlemen, I have written reports from each of you on various aspects of
the tensions between Squads 2 and 4.  They establish the Corporal's claim
that Squad 4 has been interfering with military discipline.  The challenge
and petition meet every criteria of tradition.  Having had them questioned
under oath only minutes ago, I can assure you that no man in Squad 2 knew
it was coming before their Corporal issued his challenge.  Frankly, I see
no excuse not to get this unfortunate matter out of the way expeditiously.
Comment?"  When a commanding officer had made up his mind, few SS officers
were willing to comment, let alone question him.  The responsibility lay
squarely on his shoulders.  Actually, Storch and Bayer could scarcely
believe their good fortune.  Inasmuch as SQUAD honor was in question, Eugen
could have requested that the match be held between two comparable
opponents, say, Boris and Piet.  There WERE precedents.  The fact remained
that it was inconceivable the Squad 2 leader could come out of the match
without serious injury, for it would be fought until one man was
unconscious...or worse.  Colonel Kreuze would be held responsible when a
full inquiry was held - and it WOULD be requested.  Oh, yes...  Even though
he had strong connections in Berlin, however, Major Storch was a cautious
man.  Despite Squad 2's frustration, this was a little TOO easy.  "I remain
somewhat disturbed by the physical disparity between the two section
leaders," Storch interjected smoothly.  "It doesn't seem that the Second
Squad leader belongs in the ring - especially for a 'no rules' contest -
with his counterpart...even if that WAS his formal petition.  Would it not
be wise to consider this further, perhaps order a full medical examination
for Eugen.  After all, we are responsible for his well-being."  Sergeant
Burmann argued that Eugen's full medical record lay before them.  His
thorough volunteer physical, taken at the 12.SS-Panzerdivision 'Hitler
Jugend,' had been conducted by two of the most respected medical officers
in the SS.  It showed no anomalies.  The price of delay was higher than the
price of forging ahead."  'Good,' Storch thought, 'now Burmann is on the
record.  We'll get him, too!'  "Thank you, gentlemen," the Colonel
responded.  I order that the no rules match take place at 1200 hours (12:00
noon) before the full company...as in Greek times, in the nude and with
unpadded gloves..  Dismissed!"  All three officers leapt to their feet,
saluted, and departed the Colonel's office.

Between the time that the four bells sounded and Colonel Kreuze mounted the
auditorium stage, Burmann and Bayer had ordered their squad leaders to meet
with them immediately on dismissal.  Boris had managed to sidle up to Eugen
and whisper that while he hadn't believed he had the balls to behave like a
man, he was still a fag who would lose his balls and, maybe, more in the
ring.  Though they knew Boris would win easily, the sentiment in Squads 1,
2, and 3 - and among two men in Squad 4 - was that Squad 4 had behaved
despicably if, indeed, they hadn't violated direct orders.  Further, Eugen
had done exactly what he had to do as their leader.  In short, he had
behaved with great HONOR...honor that on the battlefield would have brought
recognition.  In this, the Sergeant Major and the Sergeants of Squads 1, 2
and 3 totally concurred - though they feared the outcome for a promising
young SS soldier.

After Colonel Kreuze announced his decision, he immediately turned the
meeting over to Major Storch in accord with SS protocol.  Storch's role was
closely scripted by tradition.  He announced that the match would be held
in the lower-level boxing arena and refereed by Sergeant Krupke who had
professional boxing experience; he explained the meaning of "no rules" and
expanded on the ancient Greek tradition of unpadded gloves and nudity in
sport; he commanded that the highest level of discipline be maintained
until the match was concluded; and demanded that the incident be closed
thereafter...no matter what the outcome.  He who violated this rule would
never again march with the SS.

Once in his office, Sergeant Burmann looked directly at Eugen and murmured,
"I've heard that men from Dresden are crazy, but I hadn't really known one
before. You make me believe that the story may be true.  I guess I'M crazy,
but I have to tell you that I'm proud of you.  If I'd had you with me at
Kiev, I'd have captured 20,000 Russians instead of only 8000!  The Sergeant
went on to share some trade secrets on fighting big men - and a few about
fighting mean, dishonorable men - and sent him up to his squad room.

 As he walked up the broad stairs and down the hall in something of a
trance, he was met on every side by praise and encouragement.  Before
slipping back into the crowd, Lars from Fourth Squad even discretely
pressed a little medallion into his hand, murmuring that it was an ancient
Norse good luck charm.  On quietly entering the squad room, he was met by
his buddies who looked on him as if he were a GOD.  "OK, Boss, what can we
do to help?" Piet asked.  "You name it; you've got it!"  "Thanks, guys!
I'm really tired and stressed out.  I'd like to get rid of these shorts,
lie down on the table and, using some oil, have you give me a massage to
end all massages.  Can do?"  Quickly, the boys padded the table with
several blankets, covering them with a tarp.  When Eugen was comfortable,
they began what turned out to be a fuckin' art form (maybe "ballet" would
be a more accurate descriptor)!  Big Piet served as the chief masseur;
Toomas ran his fingers through his buddy's brown locks and caressed his
face (both of which he loved and found immensely relaxing); Nils paid
special attention to his feet, toes, and ankles; Klaus darted in and out,
making sure that not one hair - not even the SHADOW of a hair - marred the
perfection of a classic body.  As each side of Eugen's body was being
completed, Jens added just a touch of sexual arousal.  The words don't
begin to describe the complexity - or the beauty - of the operation...but
it worked.

Following Burmann's directions to use only enough oil to lubricate and,
when thoroughly rubbed in, to bring up the slight body sheen of the
athlete, Piet used every classic massage stroke that he had learned.  Eugen
mumbled that he thought he had died and gone to heaven when Klaus picked up
one heavy arm after another, allowing Piet to work magic on his biceps and
triceps.  He was just working on Eugen's shins when Jens began sensually
massaging his heavy testicles. The boys' work on Eugen's back continued in
the same style, though Eugen did finally have to tell Piet that if he
kneaded his buns one more minute, they wouldn't be good for anything beyond
popping them into the oven!  The final fillip was again administered by
Jens who carefully worked a heavily lubricated finger into Eugen's anal
canal and softly stroked his prostrate.  By rights, Eugen should have been
exhausted, for no part of his body had escaped being stroked, prodded, or
otherwise manipulated.  In fact, after sitting on the edge of the table for
a minute, he stretched forcefully, grinned, and jumped off the table like a
new man!  "I feel GREAT!" he yelled.  "Thanks, guys!  You're the best!
LET'S GO!"  After Toomas had draped a white towel around his neck (and
managed to give him a pretty sexy kiss in the process), the young men
enthusiastically circled their champion and headed for the boxing ring,
chanting, "TWO!  TWO!  TWO!  . . . "

There were very few seats open around the ring when they arrived.  Every
volunteer and every staff member from the Colonel through the cooks and
janitors was there.  Most had only heard of SS "no rule" challenges; only a
very few had ever been present at one.  The noise level was deafening.
After about two minutes, Major Storch climbed into the ring followed by
Sergeant Krupke.  He explained again that "no rules" meant just that -
anything goes!  There were no "rounds" in this seldom used SS option; the
men would fight until one was unconscious OR a "second" in his corner
tossed in a white towel, signaling surrender.  (Storch added that the
latter was considered "barely honorable.") There was, in short, no such
thing as "incapacitation."  There were no judges, for victory and defeat
were obvious.  The referee's commands and decisions were final.  Violations
could lead to the boxer immediately being drummed out of the SS.  With
that, he introduced Sergeant Krupke and left the ring.  In turn, Krupke
introduced Boris and Eugen and reminded each that his word was law.

Sergeant Burmann's description of an SS no rules fight as a "bloody brawl"
was probably the mildest statement he had ever made.  Boris - tall, strong,
heavily muscled, and infuriated by how life had soured for him and his
friends - came charging out of his corner like a maddened bull.  For the
first few minutes, Eugen used such boxing skills as he had to dance away
from him, but that couldn't last forever.  After trying to hit his elusive
target with a variety of jabs, Boris finally caught him with a right cross
that caused a visible gash in his cheek and a steady stream of blood down
his body.  As Eugen tried to recover, the Fourth Squad leader hit him with
a quick jab to the right eye.  Far more damage was done by an uppercut to
his stomach that seemed to bury Boris's fist deep into Eugen's flesh,
muscle, and guts.  Eugen dropped to his knees like a stone whereupon Boris
kicked him viciously in the chest, knocking him over backwards.  Had it not
been for the crowd, the fight might have ended right there.  Nevertheless,
the chant of the common hero's name, fast-growing in volume, seemed to
reinvigorate the lad.  As Boris tried to stomp his balls, he was able to
squirm out of the way and work his way back to his feet.  Boris moved in
for what he was pretty sure was the kill.  He didn't count on Eugen's
having one major blow left.  As his opponent slightly relaxed his guard,
the Second Squad leader met him with an uppercut that started somewhere
down in the castle's sub-basement and headed straight for his chin.
Inasmuch as Eugen was considerably shorter than Boris, it just didn't quite
make it.  Missing his larynx, it landed with a loud thump on his neck.
Boris staggered in excruciating pain.  As the crowd noise again reached a
crescendo, the rugged Dresden youth moved in, landing a steady succession
of blows on his wounded opponent.  Two fierce crosses devastated his nose
and mouth, unleashing a torrent of blood down his body; a heavy uppercut
pounded into his guts; a flurry of other blows took the heart out of the
powerful soldier.  Boris toppled to the floor of the ring and lay writhing
in pain, his hands to his neck.  Eugen looked over at his second, hoping
that he would throw in the towel.  That wasn't going to happen.
Reluctantly, Eugen dropped to his knees and knocked the big man out with
two smashing crosses that landed squarely on his chin.  Sergeant Krupke
came over to his side as the lad lurched to his feet and raised his arm in
victory.  Other than Colonel Kreuze, Sergeant Burmann, and Eugen, it seemed
as if everyone in the room went stark raving mad.  As the room rocked with
cheers, the three simply looked at each other, taking no great pleasure in
having done what had to be done.

(Return to 2004 England)

Will put his grandfather's diary down on the covers.  Tears streaming down
his face, he had done no better than muffle his repeated cries of "Thata
boy, Eugen, thata boy!  Kill the bastard!"  It was late.  Maybe his mother
and father hadn't heard him.  Rock-hard...his entire body rigid with
stress, he heaved the covers back and maniacally jerked himself off until
he exploded in the first major breathtaking, ball-draining,
consciousness-dimming orgasm of his young life.  Strange...  On a night
over 60 years ago, most of the young men at Schloss Margarethen had done
much the same thing!  Awakened by the last of his son's cries and the heavy
thudding of his bed against the wall, Will's father smiled and calmly
assured his good wife that all was well.  It was simply that their young
adolescent son had just read about Eugen's victory.  They smiled knowingly,
hugged, kissed, and returned to peaceful slumber.


(To Be Continued)