Christmas Market Sweets

I walked over and slapped him across the face. I didn't slap him hard—just enough to shock him and get his attention—but it surprised him enough that his head snapped to the side, he fell back onto the bed, his hand went to his cheek, and he looked at me in fear and confusion.

"Ich habe für diesen Fick bezahlt—I have paid for this fuck," I said. "This is the last time before I let you leave this room that you give me any command. I command now. All I want to hear from you other than panting, moaning, and sobs is 'Yes, Master—Ja, Meister." Do you understand? Verstehen Sie?

"Ja," Kurt responded in a whimper.

"Say it. What I told you to say."

"Ja, Meister, Ich verstehe," the youth answered in a subdued voice. He was beginning to understand why I was paying him $300 for the service. He was trembling. The look he gave me and how he was flicking his tongue out and licking his lips told me that the domination was arousing to him. He was trembling as much in anticipation of the pleasure of the vulnerable captive as in fear of what was to come.

"Gute. Dann beginnen wir—Good, then we begin." I grabbed his ankles, pulled him to me, covered his body with mine, and devoured every nook and cranny of the beautiful, pliable small body.

When he came was when he was kneeling at the foot of the bed, I was standing behind him, holding his head into the hollow of my shoulder with a hand cupping his jaw; rubbing the underside of my hard cock across his hole; and stroking his cock with my other hand. When he had arced the last spouting of his cum onto the bedspread, I released him, and, panting and moaning, he fell to the bed in front of me.

"Now I fuck you," I said. "Now it's my turn."

"Ja, bitte. Yes, please. Put it in me."

"I'm going to bind you. I enjoy it more when the youth is completely under my control."

He started to object, twisting around and starting to sit up. I slapped him across the face again and he fell back on the bed, whimpering. "What did I tell you were supposed to say every time I told you what I was going to do with you?"

"Ja, Meister," he murmured.

"Damn right," I said. "If you don't want to be bound, get up and dress, and walk out right now."

There was no pause to ponder. He lifted his arms toward me, the wrists held together.

I had restraints in my luggage. I bound his wrists together with one restraint pair and his ankles together with the other. I placed him on his side, butt at the bottom edge of the bed. He was lying on his left hip, and I bent his closed legs to run along the foot of the bed to my right. He was totally incapacitated, panting and whimpering. He had no choice but to accept the ball gag when I popped it into his mouth and tied it off. I held his head down with one hand gripping his throat and I pressed down on right hip with the other hand. His arms were extended in front of him, tied together at the wrist.

I stroked his hip and waist a few times, first with a hand and then with my cock, delighted in how slim his hips were as I rubbed my thick, long, hard cock on his tender skin. He moaned his anticipation. I took my time penetrating his tight channel with the shaft, enjoying his deep moaning and attempts, at first, to writhe. I didn't let him do that, though, I held him fast as I was stuffing myself inside him. He was an experienced little whore, though. Once I was all in and started pumping, he took me like a champ.

After pumping him for a while, I changed positions, putting him on his knees, chest to the surface of the bed, wrists and ankles still bound together, and I mounted him from behind and on top and rode him to my first sheathed ejaculation.

I cuddled him in my arms then, on the bed, while we both cooled down. When he had stopped trembling, I freed him of his gag and the restraints.

"I think my $300 is good for another fuck," I said.

He started to say something and I gripped his body tightly and he thought better of whatever he might have said and said, "Ja, Meister," instead.

"If you want to leave now, I'll take back $100 and I'll let you dress and leave."

He didn't leave.

I fucked him again, this time in a missionary, holding him lovingly in my arms, fully possessing him, him moaning and whispering "Ja, ja, ja" in my embrace while I fucked him slowly, thickly, deep.

After I'd ejaculated, I went to the bathroom. When I came back into the hotel room, Kurt had dressed and left. I laughed. He'd put one over on me. I had been contemplating continuing the ravishment because he was such a delectable piece and I wasn't often able to fully enjoy a yielding nineteen-year-old youth. He'd acted like he was too spent to move a muscle when I'd finally allowed myself to come and had pulled out of him and gone to the bathroom. He'd just been waiting for his chance to leave.

Oh, well, I thought. He had fully earned the $300. I would have tipped him over what I'd already given him. Maybe I'd find him again tomorrow. I wondered how much fetish sex he would take for $500.

* * * *

I went to church Sunday morning at St. Jacob's church, which was just one street over from my hotel. I didn't do so because I was religious, although the pomp and circumstance of the church service was interesting and I salivating over the older youths in the boys choir, but because Kurt told me that plaza outside the church was a hookup spot on the weekends for rent-boys. I had hopes of running into Kurt there and getting another round with him.

I wandered around the square for a good twenty minutes after coming out of the service. I didn't see Kurt, but several young men were loitering about who obviously were for sale. Some of them seemed the right age for my interest and a few of those were making eye contact and had me getting harder. I was narrowing my interest down to a couple of them when I felt a touch on my arm, turned, and smiled. The young man who had given me the blow job in the beerhall the previous afternoon was there, smiling, apparently available, and looking good.

"Erinnern Sie sich? Bei Allemanner gestern?—Remember me? At the bierstübe yesterday?"

"Ja. Soft mouth. Beautiful youth—Weicher Mund. Schöner Junge. Do you speak English? My German isn't too good."

"Gut Genug. Good enough for me to understand what I think you want," the young man said. "Is there something you want from me?"

"I'll pay $200 U.S. or the same in euros."

"For what?"

"For whatever I want."

"I would want the American dollars."

Did they all understand how the black market worked, I wondered. "How old are you?"

"Zwanzig. Aber ich weiss, wie man einen Mann zufriedenstellt. Excuse me, I must try to speak English. Twenty, sir. I have experience; I know how to please a man."

"I already know you do in one way. I would like to know what other ways you can please me."

"Do you have a room?" he asked, holding out his hand to take the four fifty-dollar bills I already was pulling out of my wallet.

He was lying, panting and moaning softly on the bed, naked, and completely open to me when I pulled away and went to my luggage for the restraints. I had worked his beautiful smooth and pliable body with my hands and mouth for nearly a half hour and I thought he was putty in my hand. I had his pelvis raised on a pillow and his thighs spread, his legs turned out. His hole was gaping from the combined attention of my mouth and my fingers. I'd had my hand inside him up to the knuckles and he'd taken it despite the slimness of his hips. He would take my cock with little trouble. My mind was mulling how to restrain him while leaving him as vulnerable to approach as he now was.

But when I came back with the restraints, he murmured. "Nein. Nicht. Not that, bitte," and started to struggle to get up.

I didn't have long that day. I was expected at the Weissmans' for dinner in the late afternoon. I knew if I had the youth for the evening or night I could seduce him into letting me bind and gag him and have my way with him totally, but I didn't want to force him and I was in high heat and throbbing. So, I just threw the restraints aside, said, "Fine, we won't use them," gathered him up into my arms, worked my cock inside him as he huffed and writhed under me, and fucked the shit out of him.

I had my satisfaction, but took it quickly and then had plenty of time to shower and dress and to find Hirtengasse, near a corner of the old city wall, in the old city by the time I was expected for dinner. I had the box of Schneeball cookies, all wrapped nicely in Christmas wrapping, to hand to Hans Weissman, the liquor distributor I was dickering with, when he opened the door to his large, old ochre-stucco duplex with a red-tile roof.

"How nice, Aiden," Hans said. "These are very special cookies for this season. How did you know about them?"

"I found them in the Christmas market. I went there last night."

"These cookies are my son's favorites. Here. Here he is now. Aiden, this is my son, Kurt."

I turned, and there he was. Kurt. My Kurt from the previous day. An almost grinning nineteen-year-old Kurt.

Oh, shit.

"This is Mr. Anderson, Kurt," Hans said. "He's here to help with the supplies for my business. Look what he's brought us—your favorite Christmas cookies."

"How very kind of him," Kurt said, his voice matching the twinkle in his eyes.

Somehow I made it through the evening. The whole family was charming, Kurt the most merry of the lot.

At the door, when I left, it was dark out and had begun to snow.

"Oh, my, do you think you can find your way back to your hotel in this muck?" Hans asked.

"I'm sure I can," I answered. I couldn't get away fast enough. I had been afraid all evening that Kurt would say something to damn me and bring his family's wrath down on my head. At the same time, just being near the young man during the evening had me erect and breathing hard.

"I'm not so sure you can. Kurt, will you come to the foyer, please."

And there he was, smiling at me.

"Kurt, could you guide Mr. Anderson back to his hotel? It's the Hotel Eisenhut in Herrn Alley."

"I don't think that would be necessary," I said, almost stuttering it. I had slapped and bound and fucked the youth. I'd do it again if I had the opportunity, but I was on such dangerous ground here. One word from the young man and . . .

"I'd be delighted to, Vater," Kurt said. "And I will go on from there to a party, if that's all right with you."

"Perfectly fine with me," Hans said, as he sent the young man and me out into the night.

We had gone no more than sixty feet when Kurt laughed, turned to me, and said, "Do you want to spend another $300?"

"Of course I do," I answered. "But you are in a position to ask for much more, you know."

"Why should I get more for what I enjoyed at that price?" Kurt asked.

We walked for a while before I put it all together. "Your father knows I fucked you yesterday, doesn't he? He's the one who directed me to the beerhall where we met. He knew we'd meet, didn't he?"

"He is thinking that perhaps he will get a very good deal on the liquor supplies when you two meet in his office tomorrow."

"I suppose he will," I said. "But will he object if you don't return home until tomorrow morning and you are babbling incoherently?"

"I'm sure he'll consider that the price to pay for dealing on the black market," Kurt answered.

As would I consider in determining how much of a discount I could get away with giving Weissman, in exchange for being able to use the delicious young man when I came to Rothenburg. "And you, Kurt. What about you?"

"I'm sure I will be fully satisfied, just as I was last night."