Warning: This story is a work of fiction. It contains graphic descriptions of punishments, non-consensual homo_s_e_x_ual activity (including _s_e_x_ with characters who would be regarded as minors ie above the age of 16 but under the age of 21) and other matters, which are unsuitable for minors. DO NOT READ if such material is considered offensive or unpalatable or if it is illegal to do so in your jurisdiction. The original story was typed in 1984 and is extremely loosely based on German texts of the early 20th century.
Chapter XV: The will of the strong
While the chosen victims were entertaining the Warden's visitors, elsewhere in the prison complex other victims were to be found and there was no shortage of predators seeking them out. Having returned from their duties in the fields or at the estates of the gentry, the prisoners had been showered and fed. In each wing of the prison the guards had been instructed to leave the prisoners to their own devices until the bells for their return to their cells were sounded. This gave the predators the opportunity they needed and was judged to be an effective means of keeping a degree of order within each cellblock.
As in any institution, the weak submitted to the strong. Each tier of each cellblock had its own dominant prisoner who, with the wiling assistance of his acolytes, sought out whatever might satisfy his needs.
In one tier not far from where the Warden's guests were indulging themselves, one of the most notorious of the cellblock leaders was holding court. His name was Jurgen and he enjoyed the confidence of the guards to such an extent that several were in attendance as he "tried" one of his subjects. His victim was Helmut, a friend of Alex and one of the most attractive young men on the tier.
Helmut was on his knees, shaking in fear at the prospect of being the object of Jurgen's anger. His "crime" had been to seek approval from the guards to move to another tier, for Helmut was truly afraid of Jurgen's viciousness.
"So you wanted a transfer from my tier, did you boy?" said Jurgen with muted anger in his voice to the kneeling lad. "Not happy with the friendly atmosphere are you?"
Helmut remained silent, sweat slowly edging down his back. He knew it was pointless to plead or argue when Jurgen was in such a temper. Suddenly Helmut's head was thrown back as Jurgen lashed out with tremendous force with his open hand across Helmut's face.
"Answer me boy," commanded Jurgen.
"I ....I just wanted to be near my friends," stammered Helmut. "I didn't mean any offence."
"Friends," Jurgen replied, "you have all the friends you could possibly need right here." Laughing, Jurgen indicated the large number of prisoners on hand to watch Jurgen's disciplining of the helpless prisoner. "We are going to show you just how many friends you have here, and then I'm sure you will not wish to move tiers. But first, you must make amends for offending all your friends by asking to be moved. You do understand, don't you?"
"I didn't meant to offend anyone," Helmut replied quietly as he tried bravely to stem the sob, which was forming in his chest.
"You do realise that you have caused much offence to your friends here, don't you?" asked Jurgen as he moved closer to the kneeling figure of Helmut. "You must also realise that by offending your friends you should be punished, don't you?"
"Yes," Helmut responded with a sigh, resigning himself to inevitable beating to come.
"Helmut, my friend," declared Jurgen, with a sneer on his lips, "you have accepted your guilt and the need for punishment, but you shall also know that we are your friends." Jurgen nodded to some of his henchmen who seized the shaking Helmut and dragged him into the adjacent cell.
This cell was one of the first to be expanded into a dormitory-style room and into the exposed beam in the centre of the room had been placed two hooks from which a man might be suspended. Jurgen supervised as four of his men stripped the helpless prisoner naked and then secured ropes to his wrists. These ropes were slung over the two hooks and the naked prisoner was raised to a point at which his feet were barely touching the ground.
Helmut looked around at the guards who were watching the display with a plea for mercy in his eyes. All he saw in return were cruel and lascivious look from the guards.
Satisfied with the lad's position, Jurgen moved towards him and ran his hands over the lad's naked chest. Looking Helmut in the eyes, Jurgen groped the youth's genitals and stroked them. "I'm going to enjoy this, boy," whispered Jurgen into Helmut's ear and his hands moved to the lad's firm white buttocks.
Helmut felt the hands of his tormentor on his backside and knew what awaited him. He had seen others in this position before. He had cringed as boys and young men who offended Jurgen and his cronies were beaten into masses of pain and then spread-eagled on a mattress to serve the considerable _s_e_x_ual appetites of Jurgen and his men. He had remembered his feeling of frustration that he couldn't help the victims and now saw about him the same looks of helplessness upon the many prisoners who had been victims themselves.
Jurgen produced four lengths of leather strap, each about three feet in length and two to three inches in width. Smiling at Helmut, he summoned four of his henchmen and gave each a length of leather. He then settle back on a bunk and opened his flies and summoned one of the prettier youths to search out and comfort his semi erect organ. The prisoner was Deiter, a friend of Alex and Helmut.
Deiter went about the unpleasant task as the lashing commenced. From his vantage point Deiter could see that each of the four men was taking turns in lashing Helmut's body. One concentrated on Helmut's chest, the second on the front of his thighs, the third upon his back and the fourth upon Helmut's backside. Helmut's cries mounted in volume and pitch as the lashes fell upon him methodically and Deiter noticed that Jurgen's organ continued to grow and expand as Helmut's obvious pain increased.
Suddenly, Jurgen pushed Deiter's bobbing head away from his lap and signalled for the beating to stop.
Helmut slumped helplessly against his bonds, barely away that the strips of leather had completed their task for his mind was consumed with pain and had no room for other sensations or thoughts.
Jurgen walked to the lad and ran his hands over the red and swollen tissue of Helmut's chest, thighs and buttocks. He reached for Helmut's groin and fondled the lad's semi-erect organ. Jurgen smiled at the lad's partial arousal and then signalled for the lad to be taken down from the hooks from which he hung.
Helmut's mind registered the movement as his aching arms were lowered and he thought about the next phase of his ordeal. Crying from pain, Helmut could only offer a simple "Please don't" by way of a plea for mercy - a plea ignored by Jurgen and his henchmen.
Deiter watched from a corner as Helmut was lowered onto a mattress and spread-eagled. He saw one of the guards thrust two pillows on the bunk as Helmut was lowered onto it. Helmut's backside was thus presented to those who might enjoy the tight entry and the warmth that lay within.
Jurgen took some lubricant from a cupboard, lowered his trousers and proceeded to anoint his organ. Totally erect, he then proceeded without ceremony to place the engorged knob against the puckered hole and thrust himself in with all the weight of his body.
Helmut cried out from the pain caused by the sudden violation and cried again as his assailant's weight descended upon the red and swollen flesh of his backside and back.
Despite his reluctance to do so, Deiter observed and quietly reached for his own throbbing organ. Within minutes Deiter achieved the relief he needed and slumped in the corner while the guards and Jurgen's men went about the business of satisfying themselves within the bowls of the semi-conscious Helmut.
Throughout the prison that evening (and indeed most evenings), similar scenes were repeated although the manner of the assaults varied from place to place.
Two blocks distant, it was the guards who were in command. A dozen or so guards had lined up an entire wing in the cellblock courtyard and were in the process of punishing all of the prisoners for their perceived poor work performance in the fields during the day. The venality of these particular guards did not extend beyond the infliction of humiliation and pain upon their charges.
The prisoners had been forced to sit on the cobblestones which paved the courtyard and, one-by-one, were summoned onto the punishment platform to receive their just deserts. The punishments were random rather than uniform. The guards wagered upon the outcome of each prisoner's performance - taking bets on how many stroked of a cane or strap it might be before a particular prisoner was truly broken. Some prisoners were required to masturbate whilst they were punished and the guards made wagers as to how many strokes might be required before the prisoner concerned achieved the required end.
The prisoners squirmed uncomfortably whilst they waited their turn on the platform. Among the prisoners were identical twins - Johan and Daniel - who had been brought to the prison after being intercepted at a border crossing by an army patrol. The lads were twenty years of age, fair-haired and comparatively handsome in the manner of the northern farming communities. At home they might be considered of average appearance but in their present company they were strikingly beautiful. Their wide blue eyes betrayed their fear, as did their hands that were gripped together as they waited their turn for discipline.
When their time came they were summoned onto the punishment platform together. Stripped, they were tied at opposite ends of a punishment bench, their ample backsides exposed to the straps which two guards held by their sides. To create a wager, the two guards had given the two lads a piece of cloth and had advised each that his twin would receive an additional twenty lashes of the strap if he was the first to drop the piece of cloth. Counting on the willingness of each to protect the other, the guards had laid bets as to which of the two would be the one to yield first.
Johan and Daniel waited apprehensively as the guards took up their positions. Looking eye to eye, the two youths had created a bond of support which they were sure would hold out against even the most brutal lashing.
Noticing the silent defiance, the two burly guards set about their challenge with slow, measured strokes. The 'cracks' from the straps hitting bare flesh tore through the night at much the same speed as the pain raced from the impact point to the two lads' brains. As white flesh turned to red, Johan and Daniel kept their eyes locked, only breaking contact briefly as each new blow fell and the pain seared across their backsides.
The two guards administering the beatings had wagered considerable sums on the outcome of this particular contest and each was determined to win. One, seeking an advantage before his victim's backside became numb and unpliable, moved back and to the side a pace and swept the strap down on Daniel's cleft, nearly tearing the left cheek of his buttocks apart.
As the tip of the strap hit the innermost part of his buttocks, Daniel let out a scream and unintentionally let go of the piece of cloth as he reached for the side of the table to stop from falling. Johan reached out to his brother and held his hand briefly as the contest was concluded.
As the guards argued about the manner in which the win had been obtained, Daniel slipped to the floor sobbing from his pain and from the fact that he had let his brother down. To his relief, Johan was excused the additional strokes and the two lads were allowed to leave the platform as best they could.
As the next victim was summoned, Johan and Daniel were led away to the infirmary to have their backside attended to. As they left the courtyard, neither noticed the figure of Dr Weiss high up on the second tier. Weiss was making a mental note to visit with these two apparent blond beauties in due course.