Willie's War Ch. 02

"Bare, of course."

"I know that," Loti told him, wiggling a pair of lace panties down over his legs, "but do I bend over or do you want me across your knee?"

"You are so forgetful." Otto Hahn retorted as he reached out and took hold of a neat little ear and led Loti over to the armchair. "I smacked you over the chair arm last time I was here, so today it's across my lap."

Placing himself firmly on a seat a mildly protesting Loti was helped to bend over his lap. Immediately he grasped Loti's skirt at the back and pulled it up over a pair of tense and slightly quivering buttocks. The black fabric complimented the exposed white skin perfectly, and its uplift allowed him to contemplate the smooth white curves at leisure.

Loti's was at his disposal, poised gracefully over his lap with his bare bottom sticking up beautifully. Suddenly Otto seemed to remember that touching was better than looking and he reached out and stroked the warm, satiny skin. Having enjoyed a prolonged and intimate feel, he rested his hand in the small of the maids back, patted the nearest cheek to get the aim right, then raised his hand and delivered two resounding smacks, one to each buttock.

Loti squeaked and kicked a little, and with an expression of relish the man watched the springy quiver of flesh settle and a pair of pink patches blossom.

"Oh yes. So nice and colourful, and so quickly too."

Willie drew back against an old cupboard, wishing he could melt into its panelling. Feeling a sense of irritation he arched his brows and glanced once more at Günter. What was he trying to do? Was watching other people a way Günter found stimulation? Maybe he believed the person with him would be stimulated by it too.

"Aren't you going to put on some lights?" asked Loti.

Otto Hahn tutted. "You know very well the electrics in here have been cut off, but there is enough light for what we need. I wish to keep you in shadow today. Today I wish to concentrate on the sensation of touching you, feeling you, penetrating you. I find a little darkness quite exciting."

Loti writhed slightly in an alluring manner. "It's not because I'm ugly, is it?"

Otto tutted. "I don't smack ugly girls, you know that. My hand is reserved for the most outstanding and vivacious anatomy. You look like a film-star."

Loti giggled. "I've heard that line before. Am I Garbo or Rogers?

"Neither of those," the man replied. "You're more compelling than Garbo, and your body is far more voluptuous than Ginger Roger's boyish looks. You're Marlene Dietrich by no stretch of the imagination, a German beauty to the tips of your effeminate tits."

As he spoke he landed two more brisk smacks on Loti's bare rump before beginning to undress him, unbuttoning his dress at the back and peeling it down. Loti was wearing a girdle beneath with suspender straps to hold up his stockings, and Otto was quite content to leave them in place.

"I wish we could have a light on." Loti said.

"Don't be silly, Loti." Otto said calmly, "You've been in this room before. There's nothing to hurt you here."

"Only you." Loti replied, reaching behind to stroke his red blotched bottom.

"That! Oh, that. I do that for you as well as myself. It's not punishment, its sex play. I know you respond to a little bit of smacking. It warms you up and makes you frisky."

Loti climbed from the man's lap and lounged back of the bulky sofa until its softness enveloped him in its cushioned embrace. His head was resting against the dark green velvet upholstery. Half crushed into a corner his long legs splayed indolently, which allowed his excited penis to swing up and flop onto the girdle that covered his belly. "Like this?" he asked.

Without speaking another word the man peeled off his jacket and unfastened the front of his trousers. Even at the other end of the room Willie could hear his breathing, heavy and hoarse, as he levered out his penis and leaned over Loti.

He stole a sideways look at Günter again. His face was turned a little away from him, offering a perfect view of his profile, with his eyes staring fixedly at the other people in the room, and it was clear that the gardener's imagination was running riot. He was a voyeur who found enjoyment in watching others perform. Willie at least had the grace to flush, the colour deepening beneath the blush of rouge on his cheeks, but with regret he found he was excited by what was happening.

If what had gone before had painted a picture of Loti being some kind of victim what transpired next altered everything. Loti's smile seemed lazily indulgent but he was no less harmless than a sleeping tiger. Quite unshaken by what had gone before the she-male arched his back to show his tiny waist to perfection, but more than anything else it was his face drew the solicitor on. Loti put his hands on the small of the man's back and the man fondling Loti's breasts. Loti's tongue appeared to moisten his lips, then he turned his lips upwards and their mouths fused together.

Slithering like a snake Loti turned over and raised himself up on his knees, then he slumped forward on his elbows and raised his bottom, waiting in that pose until strong hands parted his sexy-smooth mounds. "Come on, lover-boy." he urged, "You know I like it strong and hard."

"You minx!" Otto groaned as he shunted his thighs against willing buttocks and strived to go deep.

The man and Loti were soon locked together in a ferocious coupling of a kind that made Willie's senses swim. Otto was driving his thighs forward with all his strength, and Loti was responding with undulating and curvaceous movements as fluid and fast as his partner. His head was thrown back; tresses of hair falling away from the nape of his neck, and with his mouth open in a cry of wonderment, his facial expressions were that of unashamed primitive lust.

Willie listened to the sounds of animal rutting as a mixture of pleasure and need engulfing himself. Otto's strangled exultant grunts, Loti's strident girlish sobs, the urgent thumping of bodies on the furniture, they all combined to create a soundtrack of utter debauchery.

By the time Otto Hahn and Loti had finished and departed through the door Willie was as ripe as a plum for what must follow. He wanted the gardener to take him at once, masterfully and fulsomely, just as Loti had been taken.

Günter seemed to know that. He gave him a roguish smile that started his heart tumbling, and then slowly, lazily, he kissed his nose before following the slope of his cheek to his lips. Willie's mouth moved beneath his, opening for him as their tongues met and tangled.

Günter's fingers were strong and sure as he reached for the buttons on the front of his blouse, undoing them and drawing the garment wide, before slipping his hands around behind to unfasten the bra. "I want you. I want to taste every inch of you." he muttered with his voice thickening.

He fumbled and struggled with the clasp of the bra, and Willie had to undo it for him. Günter then pressed his fingers into the tender flesh of his breasts. In the gloom of their private hideaway he wasn't put off by their small size and began lifting and kneading and drawing them out, while his mouth clamped to Willie's throat and Willie moaned and arched his neck, inviting his touch. The man's mouth dropped lower to close over a nipple, first one then the other. They were already erect and he delighted in kissing them in turn, rolling his tongue lazily around the aureoles and suckling each tight little peak, making them swell and extend even more.

Eventually, as was inevitable, a hand slipped up Willie's skirt to caress his thighs and make him burn with desire. A low moan shuddered from between his lips. He could tell Günter was rampant and ready, and he was ready too, ready to accept the firmness of his adoration, ready to enjoy his muscular thighs and his bliss giving thrusts.

But then the gardener suddenly pulled back his hand in horror. "Gott und Himmel! You've got a prick."

Willie glanced up at him with a stricken look. "But, I thought you knew."

"I know about Rosalyn and Loti, but that aunt of mine is having a good laugh at my expense with you. She told me that the Fraulein had brought in a real girl to do her office work. You don't for a moment think I go around chasing faggots, do you?"

Willie's lips became a thin line. He meditated in silence for a moment, then said: "I thought you liked me for myself, whatever I was."

Günter gave him a jaundiced look as he backed away. "That's out of the question now. I could get into trouble by associating with a pervert cross-dresser, and I'm not going to risk ruining my reputation with the real girls in this world by being friendly with a hung hen, either."

As he spoke he was already on his feet, buttoning up his trousers and brushing past on his way to the door.

***

"This won't do." Fraulein Dietz remarked frostily. The woman cut an elegant figure that day. Her pleated skirt of soft blue wool emphasised the slim lines of her figure and the pearls that circled her throat were a family heirloom, and consequently valuable. She looked at ease in her surroundings, fashionable, but not flashy, refined, but not understated.

She was standing by the window to benefit from good daylight whilst reading one of the pages Willie had typed up, and her finger tapped the paper disparagingly. "The statistics of head-measurements and facial features for blacks and Asians seem right enough but the conclusions you've drawn from them are too vague. People are not interested in reading about likelihoods these days, they demand certainties."

With shoulders hunched and chin on his chest Willie began a meek protest. "But Professor Dietz seemed to think..."

"There was nothing uncertain about my father," she snapped coldly, quickly bullying him to a standstill, while simultaneously skimming the paper towards him, "Do it again, and this time be more positive."

Willie couldn't hide his anxiety, his long lashes drooped over eyes that revealed uncertainty and his shoulders slumped. She read through his work every day and threw pieces of paper and the same kind of remarks at him constantly. What had begun for him as a crafty exercise in rounding things up and tidying the ragged ends of the professors various assumptions had been forced to develop beyond reason.

"Fraulein Dietz, perhaps I'm not the best person for doing what you want. Perhaps you should find someone else to finish this work."

The woman's face took on a look of thunder. "Stand up! Stand up straight, you stupid fairy."

Willie pushed himself up at once, and there was no doubt from his hang-dog look that the serious nature of things had struck home.

"It is not your place to offer suggestions to me." The woman glared at him and a certain trace of waspishness entered her tones. "If I didn't think you could do it I would have employed you as a scullery-maid from the start. I find nothing wrong with most of what you do, in fact you are quite competent and have a rather nice way of putting words together in pleasing phraseology. It's just your dedication I question. You really must stir up some enthusiasm for what I demand. If you don't I shall have to begin rapping your knuckles with a wooden spoon as I do with the other lazy, effeminate wretches here. And if that as no effect I'll start smacking your balls." She paused and then added caustically. "Am I making myself clear, Wilhelm Froehlich?"

"Yes, Fraulein Dietz." he replied, nodding. She was using his proper name, rolling it out slowly and conspicuously to emphasis the power she had over him, reminding him that his safe sanctuary at Ravenskopf could only be had on her terms.

The woman strode towards the door, then almost as an afterthought she paused and turned. "I'm holding a small dinner-party at the week-end and I shall want you to attend."

Willie looked up, astounded. "Me -- attend your dinner-party?"

"Yes. Professor Pohl from Berlin will be one of the guests. He's an old acquaintance of my father's and may ask about his final work. Since you are the only person who as read it in its entirety it makes sense for you to be there. Make certain you look sweet and feminine on the occasion. I don't want anyone referring to you as the bearded she-male."

When she'd gone he sat down again and tried to sort things out in his head. He was being compelled to surrender his own integrity and independence of judgement, that was certain; Fraulein Dietz was demanding that quite consciously and inexorably. So determined was she to have her father's work accepted as a success he had found it necessary to add entire tracts of make-believe to it out of his own head. But even that wasn't considered enough for her. He had been prepared to cheat a good deal to remain in her favour, but the whole thing was getting out of hand.

Like a worm contemplating an apple he paused until the worm began to burrow. The solution was blindingly obvious in the end. He had the skill to make even the heap of rubbish in front of him sound plausible, so he would do that. He would extend doubtful concepts into logical argument and even invent substantiating evidence if it were needed.

There were whole rows of books in the library that could help him, everything from Darwin's 'Origin of Species' to an Everyman's 'Guide to the Artificial Insemination of Cows'. With their help he would convert foolish ideas into the kind of irrefutable certainties that were sure to please Fraulein Dietz.

Sitting up straight, his confidence began to blossom. Yes. He would produce a suit made to measure. A fairy story designed to please.

***

He worked tirelessly for the following two days, the library completely silent but for the incessant clatter of the typewriter. There was only one notable incident. On a rainy Friday afternoon his attention was drawn to a tapping at the casement window, and he peered round to see Günter standing outside owning a smile that was speculative and subtly ingratiating.

Disenchantment showed on Willie's face as he opened the window. "What do you want?"

Günter hesitated for a moment, his mouth taking on a vaguely sardonic twist. "I can tell you're still annoyed with me for what happened the other day, and you've every right to be. I was pretty much a disappointment to you."

Willie scowled. "So?" he said scornfully.

"So, I'd like to make up with you. You know, make a new start."

"What about your reputation with real girls?"

The gardener shrugged. "Girls are pretty scarce in my life at the moment, and I'm feeling horny enough to want to try out a hot-arsed queen. It's a bit of a step back for me, but I know you'll be grateful. O'course we'd have to keep it a secret. I wouldn't want anyone else to know I go with faggots."

Momentarily stunned by surprise Willie stood back. The audacity of the brute - attempting to seduce him with such clumsy words after what had happened earlier - and to satisfy nothing but his own selfish needs.

He'd been told as a child that when in danger of losing his temper he should count to ten, so he counted in his head, then said flatly: "Fuck off." and closed the window.