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The German equivalent of the term "rule of thumb," a principle based on practice or experience rather than on scientific knowledge, is "rule of fist." In the army, the Commandant's rule of fist for winning the willing cooperation of his subordinates was to treat them with respect and to expect that they treat him the same way. Since he wished to win the willing sexual cooperation of his prison-camp studs, he carried the same rule of fist over to the way he treated them. Most of the time he did not abuse them unnecessarily, and they knew this. However, once in a while the Commandant enjoyed inflicting a little pain, and this was one of those times. After Igor and the Commandant had finished fucking, they lay there for a little while resting. Then, the Commandant rolled over on his side, and in so doing, he rolled Igor onto his side on the bed next to him. The Commandant relaxed his ass and pushed outward so that Igor's cock plopped out of his ass, like a giant salomi, and lay across the bed in front of him. The Commandant went to the closet where he kept the different costumes that his studs and he wore, chose the shiny, black-rubber, hooded, poison-gas-protection suit, and put it on. He chose a pair of armpit-high, black-rubber gloves that where held up by a strap across his shoulders and put them on. Then, he put on a pair of hip-high, black-rubber boots that were held up by straps at the top that looped over a belt that he buckled around his waist. He lubricated both his rubber-gloved hands with a surgical lubricant that would not rot the rubber. "OK, men. Assume the position," the Commandant ordered. Igor and Georges knew what the Commandant wanted. They got on their hands and knees, side by side, on the bed. "Now, we're going to have a fist-fucking contest. The person who takes my fist up his ass and out again the fastest wins the contest. The winner will get extra rations and privileges. The loser gets me to fuck him. Are you ready?" Both men said, "Yes, Sir," and nodded their heads at the same time. The Commandant gently inserted one black, rubber-gloved finger into each ass and waited patiently for their asses to get used to it. After all, he didn't mind if they suffered a little pain for his enjoyment, because he knew that the pain would subside in a few days with no permanent damage done. As a matter of fact, the Commandant had seen some gays in the bath houses in Berlin take a fist up their ass almost every night with no ill effects. In addition, the Commandant thought that a little pain in their asses would be beneficial. It would remind them, for a few days at least, who was the boss. The Commandant gently slipped a second black, rubber-gloved finger into each of their asses. They both moaned a little for his benefit. The Commandant again allowed plenty of time for each of them to get used to the new dilation; then, he slipped a third finger into each of their ass holes. Now, the Commandant rolled his hand into a kind of arrow shape, like a diving cormorant, with all his fingers pointed forward so that getting his hand into each man's ass would be as easy as possible for him. "Now fellows," he said, "Winning the race is up to you. To get as much of my hand in your ass as quickly as possible, you have to relax your ass and push back against my hand." Both men pushed back against his hands, groaning from the pain their action was causing them. "You better push harder, Igor," he said, "Georges already has four of my fingers in him and is up to the second joint of my middle finger." Igor groaned loudly and pushed harder against his hand. "Good, Igor, you've caught up with Georges," he said, "Now, Georges, you'd better try harder or Igor will pass you." Both men moaned loudly and pushed harder against his hands. "Good, Georges, now you've got all five fingers in you and you're up to the third joint of my middle finger. Igor, you'd better try harder or Georges is going to beat you." Igor moaned again and pushed harder. "Good, Igor. You've almost caught up with Georges," he said, "You'd better try harder, Georges, if you want to stay ahead." Both men were now sweating profusely from the pain and groaning loudly with each breath as they pushed harder against the Commmandant's hands. "Good, Georges. You're almost past the third joint of my middle finger. Once you pass that point, my fist will slip in easily because that's the thickest point." Georges wiggled his hips sideways a little and continued his push against his hand. "That's it Georges. You've almost got it. Keep up the good work." Georges again wiggled his ass and pushed harder against the Commandant's hand. Then, suddenly, without warning, Georges passed the thickest point of the Commandant's hand and it slipped into Georges easily up to his wrist. "Good, Georges. You're the first one to get my fist in you. Now you've got to get it out." The Commandant clenched his fist inside of Georges knowing that this change made his fist bigger than it had been going in and would make it more difficult to get out. "You'd better hurry up, Igor. Georges is ahead of you." Georges leaned forward against the Commandant's fist, held from falling by his ass hole gripping the Commandant's clenched fist. "Come on, Igor. Georges is already on his way out and you haven't even gotten my fist in you yet. You'd better try harder." Igor groaned loudly, pushed harder, and the Commandant's hand slipped into Igor's ass up to the wrist. He groaned in relief. The Commandant clenched his fist inside of him and said, "O. K. Igor. You've got my fist inside of you. Now you've got to get it out." Igor leaned forward, pulling against the Commandant's clenched fist. "Good, Georges," the Commandant said, "My fist is out almost up to my knuckles. Once you're past that point, its down hill all the way. Igor, you could still win. Just try a little harder." Both men groaned and pulled harder; then, suddenly, Georges ass passed the Commandant's knuckles and the Commandant's fist popped out free. Georges flopped down on the bed, exhausted from the pain and exertion. "Good, Georges. You win. I'll tell the cook about your extra rations. I'll even get you a bottle of wine." There was mucus and flecks of blood on the black rubber-gloved hand that had just come out of Georges ass; but, the Commandant knew from experience that there was no danger. A little blood had oozed into Georges' rectum from the strain of shitting a clenched fist. He'd be alright in a few days. The Commandant slapped Georges across the ass, leaving a bloody-red hand print on the cheek of his ass. The Commandant knew that, because of the condition of Georges' ass hole, that slap hurt him like throwing salt into a wound. "O.K., Georges, you can go take a shower and get some breakfast." The Commandant unclenched the fist that he had in Igor, making it more streamlined and pulled it out of Igor's ass. "And, you, Igor, are going to suck my cock until its hard, then, I'm going to fuck you with it because I need the release. Its a wonder I don't have lover's nuts because I've been having sex for several hours, now, and I haven't come off, yet. Not even once." The Commandant had made all of his studs learn to suck cock the way he liked it; but, they were only allowed to suck the Commandant. They were ordered not to suck each other unless he ordered them to. He had taught all his studs to take his cock up their ass; but, they were also ordered not to let anyone else do it to them but him. They knew that if he caught any of them messing around with each other, in any way, it was grounds for immediate shipment out on the next train. The Commandant klumped around the end of the bed in his heavy, black-rubber hip boots to the place where Igor was sitting on the side of the bed. He opened the fly of his rubber suit and fished out his uncircumcized cock. Igor looked up at him with those beautifully sad, dark-brown eyes. Igor had such a woe-begone expression that the Commandant almost excused him from his assignment; but, he didn't. After all, sucking his Commandant's cock wasn't going to kill him even if he felt that it was a humiliating loss of masculinity. "Go ahead," the Commandant ordered Igor as he moved closer to him and flicked his cock in Igor's face. Igor took the Commandant's cock into his mouth dutifully and started sucking it. Even though the Commandant's cock wasn't nearly as large as Igor's, it was shaped like his. The head was smaller than the middle of the shaft. Igor tongued around under his foreskin for a while; then, with the head of the Commandant's cock still in his mouth, he peeled back the Commandant's foreskin with his tongue and lips. As he did this, he tickling the little chord at the bottom of the head of his cock with the tip of his tongue. "He might be a reluctant cock sucker," the Commandant thought as he watched Igor's curly, black-haired head bob and weave excitingly on his cock, "But, he was surely a damn good cock sucker." The Commandant had taught Igor well. He even kept a vacuum in his cheeks when he sucked him, thereby heightening the Commandant's pleasure by keeping the pressure on all parts of his cock. And, when it came to deep-throating the Commandant, Igor was like a sword swallower. He grabbed the Commandant by his ass and forced the Commandant's cock all the way down into his throat as he made little swallowing movements with his throat, that felt like he was nursing on the head of the Commandant's cock when it was in there. With this fantastic sucking, the Commandant's cock was fully hard and ready for some fucking. The Commandant pulled his cock out of Igor's mouth and indicated that he wanted him to lie on his side so he could fuck him in the spoon position. Igor complied. The Commandant lay down behind Igor, grabbed his hips, and plunged his cock all the way in. Igor gasped from the pain because his ass was still sore from the fistfucking the Commandant had just given him. Sometimes, in this position, the Commandant reached around and jerked Igor's cock or twisted his tits; but, not this morning. The Commandant just wanted to dump his load in Igor's ass as quickly as possible and be done with it because he had other camp business that he wanted to take care of. But, the Commandant didn't get up and get on with his work as quickly as he had hoped. Igor still had his back toward the Commandant. The Commandant pulled Igor over on his back so he was facing the ceiling; but, Igor tried to avoid looking at the Commandant by keeping his face turned away from him. The Commandant turned Igor's face toward him and saw that there were tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry I lost the contest, Sir," Igor said. The Commandant knew that Igor was not crying because of the pain. Stoically not crying was a matter of gypsy pride with him, and the Commandant knew that Igor had endured much greater physical pain without crying. The Commandant knew that Igor was crying because of his circumstances. The Commandant's heart went out to him. The Commandant had made Igor feel insecure when he treated him roughly. And, Igor's compulsion to be top stud made him think that he would be depreciated in the Commandant's eyes because he had lost the contest. But, nothing could be further from the truth. "Please don't get all insecure on me just because I was a little rough on you this morning," the Commandant said. "Believe me, you've got it all wrong. The contest was just a meaningless little game for my amusement. I don't think less of you because you lost." Then, he said, more seriously, "If you let what I am about to tell you go to your head, I'll knock it right out of you. As you have probably noticed, I fuck with you more than any of the other studs and you sleep with me all night in my quarters more than any of the other studs. You see, Igor, you are my favorite. I'm glad you lost the contest because your losing gave me an excuse to fuck with you longer." The Commandant put his arms around Igor, hugged him, and gave him a long kiss. Then, he whispered softly in Igor's ear, "Don't worry, Igor, I love you. I won't let anything bad happen to you." There was a long pause. Igor's chest heaved with a single, muffled sob. "Thank you, Sir," he exhaled softly as he put his arms around the Commandant's neck and kissed him. "Now," the Commandant said brightly, hoping to reassure Igor, as he got up off of him, "Go shower, get a good breakfast, and go pump that iron. I'll see you later."

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