AS THE TWIG IS BENT free porn video

Translation of German words or phrases at the end. However, I have tried to make the meaning fairly clear in context.



AS THE TWIG IS BENT
Part One

Wie der Zweig gebogen wird, so wächst der Baum.
As the twig is bent, so grows the tree.


“Kurt! Darlin’, wake up! You’re havin’ a nightmare. Kurt!”

Logan’s voice rings through my head, disrupting the dream that holds me captive. “I am avake. Stop shaking me. It is all right,” I protest as I gather the pieces of reality around me, pushing the detritus of that false reality out of my mind.

I feel Logan’s arms encircle my still-trembling body, drawing me closer to him. I curl up against his chest like a child.

“What was that all about, Elf? I’m usually the one with the nightmares, but this is the third night in a row that I’ve had to wake you up.”

“It is nothing. I just vant to forget it.”

“Was it the same one again?”

“I do not vant to talk about it!”

“It was, wasn’t it, darlin’?” He hesitates before going on, as if unsure of my reaction. “Who’s Herr Grüber?”

Panic engulfs me at the mention of that name. I tense up and cling tighter to my puzzled partner, shaking my head in denial. My tail curls pathetically between my legs.

Logan reacts instantly to the fear that floods my scent as well as my sudden tension by using one of the hands he has behind me to stroke my back. I take a deep breath, trying to relax.

“Nobody. It is not important. Please, let us not talk of this.”

“Nobody, huh? Then why have you been pleading with him in your sleep for the last few nights? And why did you call out his name the night before that, while I was fisting you?”

“Vhat did I say?”

“You really wanna know?”

All I can do is nod my head. I had no idea I was talking in my sleep, much less during the time Logan was fist-fucking me. Mein Gott, what have I been saying?!

“You were whimpering and begging in German. I didn’t catch all of it, but it was something like “Nein, Herr Grüber. Bitte, nein.” I’ve never heard your voice sound like that before. And then later you told him to go back to Hell, where he belonged. It’s been mostly the same kind of thing during the nightmares also.”

Oh, no! Had I really said all that out loud?!

“C’mon, Elf. This ain’t ‘nobody’ if he’s haunting your dreams.”

“I do not vish to discuss him.”

“You’re acting like a scared child. This is me. There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

I cannot even bring myself to say his name, much less talk about Herr Grüber. Not to Logan, not to anyone. Distraction. Ja, that is it. I can distract him from pursuing this.

“So then there is also nothing you cannot tell me, nicht wahr?”

Logan reacts as I expect him to. “Well – uh --“

I take the opening he gives me. “Of course, it is all right for you to refuse to talk to me about those special missions you have been going out to do alone, but I must tell you everything about my life. Is that it?”

If he truly were a wolverine, I would have been able to see his hair stand on end when I said that. As it is, I feel him tense up, just as I have. We lie there stiff and prickly in each other’s arms.

“You don’t understand, Kurt. That’s different. I can’t tell you about that.”

“How is it different? Vhy?”

“You don’t understand. That’s all. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“I can’t. You’ve just got to trust me on this.”

“I could say the same to you then.”

I pull away from him, turning over and dragging the covers up to my chin.

“Aw, Elf, don’t do this to me. Or to yourself.”

“I am not doing anything to you that you are not doing to me.”

“Haven’t we gone around in circles long enough about this already?”

“Ja, ve have. So let us leave it alone.”

“OK, guess I’m gonna have to figure it out for myself then.”

I start to get up from the bed, but his arms fasten around my waist. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, darlin’. Not without me goin’ along.”

Scheisse! Now what am I going to do? If he is holding me like this, I cannot even teleport without taking him with me.

“Talk to me, damnit!”

I shake my head in mute refusal. If one does not talk, one cannot give anything away.

“This ain’t like you. You’re usually the one who’s all for communication and honesty. Most of the time I can’t get you to shut your mouth. But now, I can’t seem to get you to open it. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

That did not make any sense. “Nein. My tongue is right here,” I protest, turning around and sticking it out at him.

“It’s an idiom, darlin’.”

I duck my head to hide my embarrassment. “Oh. Sorry.”

Well, so much for silence. I was never very good at that anyway.

“C’mon, Elf. You’re the one always wanting us to talk about stuff.”

“Can ve not just talk of something else?”

“OK.”

Too easy. He is not going to give up that easily, and I know it.

“Look, you’re all upset. I know how to get you to relax.”

He draws me back down so that I am lying alongside him again, but still facing my side of our bed. His hand moves down to the small of my back. I shiver as he digs his fingers into the tight muscles that control my tail. Delightful! Just what I need to banish the leftover fear from the nightmare. If I had been lying on my stomach instead of my side, I would have arched my back against his hand, as a cat will do when petted. As it is, I press my hips back against him and sigh luxuriously. If I were that hypothetical cat, I would have begun to purr.

I know very well what this will lead to, but I have no objections. Quite the contrary, in fact. Sex will surely sidetrack his effort to figure out what is bothering me.

“Darlin’, I really know very little about your early childhood, although you’ve told me a lot about performing in the circus as a teen-ager and how much you enjoyed it,” he says lightly, as if this were his version of changing the subject to some kind of small talk. Although I try to hold onto my feeling of well-being and relaxation, it is difficult. I know full well that I cannot easily deceive Logan. For one thing, I have no talent for lying. For another, he could probably tell from the nervousness in my scent if I even attempted to tell him an untruth.

“One would think you went right from your mother’s womb to the flying trapeze,” he continues, in that same light tone of voice.

Before I can stop myself, I reply bitterly, “Often I have vished that vere true.”

“Uhmm.”

That is all? No further comment? It seems so, as his hand moves lower and grasps the base of my tail, massaging it gently. My entire tail collapses down onto the bed as if it were boneless, lying there in limp comfort. Wunderbar!

“Ya know, I really enjoyed it when you let me fist-fuck you a few nights ago.”

Even better. He is changing the subject to something much more pleasant than my early childhood. I am on firmer ground here, talking about the other night. Except for what I must have said out loud.

“Ja, it vas incredible. Aftervards, I felt so – so –“ At a loss for words, all I can do is gesture with my hand, as if I am reaching for something I cannot quite grasp.

“I know. I can’t find the right words to describe it either.” His hand continues working on my tail, while his other hand moves around to my chest, playing over the scarred designs.

“You almost told me to quit at one point, didn’t ya? Just before my knuckles went in?”

“How did you know that? I only asked you to stop and vait a minute so I could adjust to the feeling.”

“Elf, I’ve been there myself, remember? That’s usually the most difficult part to get through. I almost gave up then too, on my first try.”

“You did?”

”Sure. It’s a terrifying feeling, as if you’re going to be split open at any second. Me, I felt as if there was a switch that had to click over in my head in order that I could relax and allow myself to open further, but it just won’t go. In my experience, the folks who get by that point usually flash on something in their past that helps that switch to click on, some method of relaxation they’ve used before. Does that sound like what happened to you?”

Before I can stop it, my tongue betrays me. “Ja! I remembered when Herr Grüber –-“ I sit up abruptly. “Verdammt, Logan! Du hast mich betrogen!”

“Yeah, I tricked you. So what?” His arms wrap around me, once again drawing me back down by his side. His hands return to their previous activities. “At least you can tell me what this mysterious Herr Grüber did that made you open up and take my hand so well. That’s not classified information, is it?”

“Vell, no,” I reluctantly admit. “It vas only that he taught me a sort of mantra, a way to picture myself. It comes in handy for such a situation.”

“That sounds like a good thing. How does it go?”

“You are to imagine yourself as a cloud floating effortlessly through the sky. It is varm, sunny, and you are drifting on a gentle breeze. You are immaterial, permeable, above all the troubles of the vorld below.” Even as I say it, I feel myself start to melt. “You shift from shape to shape, impermanent, changeable. You can absorb anything you have to. You can be anything you have to be.” I shake my head. Too much of this and I will space out. Perhaps I have learned my mantra too well.

“Not bad. It sure did the trick the other night.” By now, his fingers are teasing one nipple, and his other hand has traveled around below my tail, not quite at that sensitive spot between my tail and my anus. He is teasing me, stopping just before touching that place.

“Ja. I have not had to use that meditation for more years than I vould really like to count. As you have often noted, I have far more flexibility in all vays than the average person does. And that includes certain sphincter muscles.”

“That’s for damn sure! I never would’ve been able to get into you that easily for the first time otherwise. Not with a hand the size of mine.”

That hand is just now rolling my hard nipple between its fingers. I take hold of it and bring it to my lips, kissing his knuckles and then sucking briefly on each one in turn. Perhaps this will distract him from his persistent focus on things I do not wish to have him focus on. I have never told anyone much about my early childhood, other than that I was in a sideshow with a circus before I became a trapeze artist. And that is all anyone needs to know, including Logan.

He will not be distracted. Wresting his hand out of my eager mouth, he takes hold of my hair and gently pulls my head back so that he is looking me in the face.

“So what else did you learn from this Grüber fellow?”

“Nothing of any interest.”

“Um-hmm.”

From the skeptical tone of his voice this time, I can tell he does not believe me for a moment. Nevertheless, I volunteer no further information, nor do I intend to.

Then his other hand touches that lovely place just shy of my asshole. I close my eyes and drop my head further back until it rests on my pillow. “Aah, Gott!”

“Ya like that, don’t’cha, Elf?” I can hear the gloating satisfaction in his voice. I might be angry, if I could muster the energy needed, but as he continues to rub me just there, it feels too blessedly good to bother.

“Yeah, ya like it.” I can imagine the smug smile on his face about now. But I do not care.

“Got an idea, Elf.”

“So do I. Fick mich.”

He laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you soon enough. First, let’s play a little game. You know how to play 20 Questions?”

“Ja, but I vould much rather –“

He does not let me finish. “If I can figure out the deep dark secret you’re hidin’, I win. If I can’t, you win. The usual terms: Loser buys the beer. What do ya say?”

Slightly miffed, I retort, “Nein. I know how much beer you can drink, compared to me. I have decided the odds are stacked against me.”

“Cards can be stacked, darlin’. Odds can’t.”

“You know vhat I mean.”

“Yeah. So what do you want to do about it?”

I am determined to ignore those caressing fingers beneath my tail and drive a hard bargain, even if my entire tail is twitching and quivering uncontrollably beneath the covers and my cock is stiff as a board. “If I vin, you vill not only buy the beers I drink at the bar, but you vill buy me a case of beer for future consumption also.”

“Agreed.”

“I varn you, it vill take many more than 20 questions.”

“Ya think so, huh?”

“Ja.” I am very sure, but still I do not like the way this conversation is going. Nevertheless, his fingers are still playing with me lasciviously beneath my tail, so I have not yet given up on rerouting his interests away from his silly game.

“Then ya can’t lose, right? So let’s play. Here’s my first question. Is this Herr Grüber the man who ran the sideshow where you appeared as a child?”

“Ja.” The answer is out before I can so much as think about it.

“Was he the one who trained you to do the – ah – interesting -- things you can do so well when we screw?”

All right, how could he know that? “Ja,” I admit, somewhat reluctantly this time. Logan’s guesses are too close for comfort.

“So you spent your childhood being sexually abused by him, right?”

“Is that another question?” I ask warily.

“Yeah.” His hand moves down a little bit, so that he is still massaging that wonderful place with his thumb, but his fingers now press against my opening.

“Ahh – mein Schatz – uh – you are distracting me from our game.”

“I know that.” But he does not stop.

“I vill lose count of the questions.”

“I’ll keep track of what number we’re on. Right now, I’m waiting for your answer to my third question.”

“Uh – no. Herr Grüber did not exactly abuse me.”

“No? Fourth question. Then what did he exactly do to you?”

“He very rarely had sex vith me himself. He only trained me to perform for my customers.”

“Fifth question. Trained you to perform what?”

“Vhatever they vanted of me and vere villing to pay him for.”

“Sixth question. Like sex?”

I duck my head and hide my face against his broad chest, shaking my head. “I do not have to answer because you have been cheating,” I mumble. “Do you think I do not know that all the questions must be able to be answered by a yes or a no? You have already asked two that should not count.”

“All right, you got me on a technicality, darlin’.” His voice is soft next to my ear. I feel his tongue lick the pointed tip, even as his finger enters my body. “I withdraw those questions. Come on, Elf. You’re not gonna chicken out on me now, are ya?”

His finger strokes me inside, reaching for my prostate. My desire flares into something that I can no longer contain, as I spit out the answer he so badly wants to hear. “Yes, yes, yes! Sex! Vhat else?! Sex, in any vay they vant it, vith any other disgusting nasty things they vant me to do or vant to do to me, no matter if I like it or not!! Are you happy now? Are you satisfied?!”

His face registers sudden shock as I wrench myself out of his embrace, his finger being roughly pulled out of my ass in the process. I crouch before him on my hands and knees, bending my elbows to lower my head and put my ass in the air and holding my tail off to one side in the classic invitation of a cat in heat. “Fick mich!!” I demand. “Jetzt!”

“Elf, come on, not like that. Let me hold you in my arms and kiss your lips. I wanna see your eyes glow with love and passion.”

“Nein! I do not vant to look at you! I cannot! I do not vant it nice and gentle and loving! I vant it hard and vicious. I vant you to fuck me like the whore I am! Do not talk. Do not comfort me. Make it hurt! Fuck me! Hard. Now.”

“Aw right, if that’s how you want it.” After a brief moment, his cock presses against my hole, held steady and guided by his hand. Even so, I can feel that it is wet with lube.

I growl as he hesitates. I slam my hips back against him, forcing his hard cock into my ass in one stroke. I can feel him arch his back and hear his guttural cry. Then his fingers dig into the sides of my pelvis and hold me steady so he can thrust deeper. “You want it like this, you’ll get it like this.” He moves fast, hard, deep, making no concession to what I may be feeling. But I do not care.

“Use me, hurt me, make me feel the pain!” I snarl through clenched teeth. “I deserve nothing more. I am a whore, a slut, a thing to be used. That is what Herr Grüber taught me to be and that is vhat I am! How could it be any different? Fick mich, damn you!”

For a moment, he holds still, possibly shocked by my words. This is not what I want. I want what I have said: to be used and used hard. I contract my pelvic muscles tightly, as if I am trying to pull him into me, then relax and do it again, at the same time tilting my pelvis forward then back. That particular sequence of motions, if repeated rhythmically for a long enough time, is almost guaranteed to bring a man to orgasm. Only a few times and Logan is moving again, matching my timing and thrusting with great enthusiasm.

“I’m -- gonna -- come,” he finally says roughly, between thrusts. Is it a threat or an apology? I am beyond caring. It does not matter. I will take whatever he wants me to, his cum, his piss, his hand, anything, it makes no difference.

His fingers clutch at me harder as he pulls my hips into him yet again, grinding his groin tight against my buttocks, forcing them apart so he can get in further. He howls his release as I feel him tremble against me. A few more thrusts and he collapses on top of me, forcing me flat down onto the bed. I hear him panting for breath. I lie there as tears leak from the corners of my eyes, feeling my traitorous penis shoot its load onto the tangled sheets. My insides burn where his cock still gouges into me. Then suddenly it is gone, the weight on top of me lifts. I know he is kneeling there looking down at me, then I hear another howl, this time of anguish, not lust.

“Elf? O my god! Kurt! Are you all right?”

I cannot answer right away. Whatever got into me, to act like that? Where did that intense need come from? What sort of a monster am I? And what must Logan think?

His arms come around me and I am dragged up next to him on the bed. How can he bear to touch me, after what I have just said?

“Kurt? Talk to me. If you don’t say something, I’m gonna carry you down to the infirmary right now.”

“Vhat – vould you like me to say?” I manage to gasp.

He pulls me against him so my head is resting on his shoulder. “What was all that about?”

I try to turn away, but his arm holds me close. “I -- I – “ I stop, swallow, and try again. “I think that is vhat happens vhen you play Tventy Questions vith me.”

That gets a wan smile from him, so I continue. “Perhaps it is a good thing that ve only got as far as number six?”

A tentative chuckle. “Looks like you owe me the beer, huh?”

“Nein,” I object automatically, while part of my mind is still trying to adjust to the idea that he does not despise me. “You cheated.”

“All right. Call it a draw then. We each buy our own beer the next time.”

I nod, waiting to see where he takes the conversation from here.

“Now, darlin’, you’re gonna tell me about all this. Or do I have to fick you again?”

I hang my head. “I –“

He lifts my chin before I can go any further.

“—and don’t even start to say you can’t talk about it. Got that?”

I nod. “Ja. You vin.”

He kisses the top of my head. “So tell me what happened.”

“I do not know vhere to start.”

“In that case, I’ll ask more questions. How did you get into a circus sideshow in the first place? Do you even know?”

“Only vhat I vas told by Herr Grüber. He found me as a very young infant in a cardboard box on the doorstep of his house at the circus’ vinter quarters in the village of Schönberg one icy morning. There vas a piece of paper pinned to my blanket that read ‘Kurt Vagner’, spelled vith a W, of course.” I shrug. “This could all be a lie. I have no vay to tell. All I know for sure is that I vas vith him as early as I can remember, and being surrounded by strangers who stare down at me is part of my earliest memories. That, and a voman who must have been hired as my nurse who put her finger up my ass every time she suckled me. Much later on, Herr Grüber told me she did that on his orders.

“Vhen I vas a very young child, it vas not too bad. I can recall appearing as part of the sideshow, doubtlessly as one of the freaks. There vas an extra charge to see the Amazing Devil Baby, vhich became the Amazing Devil Boy as time passed.”

I go on to tell Logan a relatively brief version of my childhood, first pointing out that, contrary to the image in most folks’ minds these days, a freak show did not (and I say it in the past tense because such things are generally not common anymore) normally consist of people imprisoned in cages and forced to be on display. Most of us were there of our own free will, in large part because it was the only way to earn a decent living. For those of us who could, a lot of it was a true performance, not just a case of standing before the gawking audience while they stared at us. At different times, I danced, did acrobatics, juggled, and even came up with a fairly good contortionist act.

The typical sideshow was not just freaks. There were also people with unusual skills, such as sword swallowers, magicians, fire eaters, and knife throwers, to name just a few. Then there were the fakes, who were not true freaks at all but only pretended to be by using various forms of trickery, or who, like most of the fortune tellers, were simply fooling people with their mumbo jumbo. On top of all that, there were the grifters, who ran con games and games of chance on the marks inside the tents, or simply picked their pockets.

From all of these people, I learned things. From the knife throwers, I learned to throw knives. From the fire eaters and sword swallowers, I learned how it was done, although I did not attempt to do it. From the fakes and the grifters, I learned that, while it is not strictly speaking true that “you can’t cheat an honest man”, it is indeed significantly more difficult to do so. The easiest person to cheat is the one who thinks he is really entitled to get something for nothing, especially if you can also make him think he can put something over on you.

As I have already mentioned, I was not usually in the main part of the sideshow, but rather one of the extra attractions that was offered for the men in the audience to see at the end of the show, for a small extra charge. This was called the “blow off” and was conducted behind a curtain that concealed one entire end of our tent. It consisted mainly of scantily-clad young ladies who would dance for the men, often giving them fleeting glimpses of nudity. Our dancers were dressed in Arabic costumes, with many veils they could shed during the performance before anything serious would be revealed, and the only music they needed was provided by a single drummer. Some of the ladies were more skillful at these so-called belly dances than others.

I was told later on that as an infant, I was brought out by one of the ladies, undressed, and held out for the audience to see up close. The Amazing Devil Baby was the warm-up act before the dancing began.

As I got older, I was able to be a more active participant, coming in with the ladies to show myself off. While I had not been taught to dance as they did, I started mimicking them early on. That made the men looking at us smile and laugh, so I kept on doing it. I discovered by accident that the audience would cheer me enthusiastically if I tried to pull off some of the veils that covered the ladies, so I added that to my act. It was fun to hear the audience clap for me. The dancers soon figured out how to play along with what I did, shrieking as I came near them, trying to keep their veils out of my reach, or acting very embarrassed if I were successful in my efforts.

When I was old enough that propriety demanded that I also wear something most of the time, we set it up so that the ladies could tear off my clothing also, to get more laughs. By the end of the show, I usually ended up entirely naked. I would walk over close to the edge of the stage and let the people touch me however they wished. I was so used to being displayed to others by then that I was not embarrassed or ashamed.

Since I already looked the part, I played up my devilishness as I got older, leering at the dancers and taunting them. I even had a miniature pitchfork, and brandished it suggestively. By that time, I knew very well what was going on and why men wanted to see naked women. I also knew perfectly well what the men wanted to do to those naked women, if they had had a chance. I suspected that some of the girls were doing more than merely dancing for the men, just as I was, but I thought nothing of it.

I had barely learned to talk reasonably well when Herr Grüber started my training in earnest. At first it was easy and sort of fun. I used my hands to please the private customers that came to our trailer late at night, as Herr Grüber had arranged with them earlier in the day. He was exceptionally good at picking out people in the audience who showed a particular fascination with me, then offering them the chance for a more private interaction later on, for a rather high fee, natürlich.

When a male customer brought a woman with him to see me, wanting to simply watch me please her, it was easy, even with just two fingers and a thumb on each of my hands to work with. I think that very novelty was part of what interested some of them in my ministrations. Of course, I had to be careful of my fingernails, which even at that tender age were thicker and larger than the average child’s.

My male customers were more challenging, as they could be very demanding and I had to use more strength and effort to make them come. There was always a sense of triumph when I was successful, as the entire process fascinated me.

Sex organs became some of my most interesting toys. Once one of the men asked me to lick up the sticky stuff he had produced, and I found it did not have a very bad taste at all. None of the men asked me to suck on their dicks though. All I had to do was smile at them and they lost any interest they might have had in such a thing. Even my baby teeth were sharp, crooked, and oversized. Probably that was for the best, as my mouth would not have accommodated them. I have yet to find anyone who wants me to give them a blow job.


As I grew older, Herr Grüber gradually added other activities to my repertoire, as I became able to do them. I was a very good pupil, wanting, as a child will, to please the person who seemed most interested in me. It was not permitted to hurt me, and I did not know there was anything unusual about being fondled by strangers, or being expected to touch their genitals and give them pleasure. It was simply what I did. Eventually I learned to include my tail in the performance of my duties, along vith a large array of the devices usually known as sex toys, which is particularly apt in my case.

I never knew how much money he made by selling me -- how do you say? – off the books, but it must have been a considerable amount, since he had many more luxuries than the others around us, even the top tier performers in the circus itself. None of us in his show lacked for good food and decent living conditions, considering the itinerant life we had to lead.

Sometimes I broke one of Herr Grüber’s Rules and was punished, but that was not very often. However, when it did happen, it was not fun at all.”



“Rules, Elf?” Logan interrupted. “What sort of rules?”

“Oh, mostly quite reasonable. The first three vere the most important. Let me see if I can still remember them correctly.

“First Rule: Never tell about vhat happens vith my private customers or during my training sessions. Second Rule: Never refuse to do vhat Herr Grüber tells you to do in the training sessions. Third Rule: You may never refuse a paying customer anything. You may cry, plead, or beg, but you must not resist in any vay. Only Herr Grüber is permitted to decide what may or may not be done by a customer.

“I may have gotten the exact vording of the last one a little wrong, but that was the gist of it. Since I vas a good little boy and tried hard to please him, I seldom broke those rules. I vas punished most often for vhat he called Tail Infractions.”

“Tail infractions? What on earth --?”

“Very simple. If I failed to control my tail and either got it in the vay of what was being done, or worse, actually struck him with it. The very vorst thing vas to strike one of my private customers.”

“But you’ve often told me you can’t always control what your tail does or how it moves.”

“Ja, and that is the honest truth. Eventually, Herr Grüber believed me vhen I told him that. My tail truly does have a mind of its own in many vays, responding to my emotional state automatically.”

As I am saying that, I sneak my tail around underneath the covers and tickle the sole of his foot. He laughs, and we struggle playfully for a moment as I continue to try to tickle him. I end up pinned down beneath him while he holds my tail firmly away from his body with one hand, frowning down at me.

“Give it up and I’ll let you go. Otherwise I’ll give your tail a good twist.”

I know that is an empty threat. He will not seriously harm my tail. Nevertheless, I let it go limp in his grasp.

“As you may have noticed,” I say, trying hard not to laugh, “the darn thing still gets me in trouble now and then. But I have learned a certain amount of control since I vas a child.”

Mollified, he releases me entirely and we get comfortable alongside each other again. I must soon resume my story, like it or not.

“Once Herr Grüber realized I did not do it deliberately, the punishments ceased. However, my tail vould always be restrained if I vere vith a customer and he thought it might prove to be a problem. I got so that I expected something really bad to happen to me any time my tail vas tied down as part of the preparation for the arrival of a customer. I vas seldom disappointed in my expectations.”

“So what exactly did he do to punish you?”

“He had a special riding crop vhich vas used only for that purpose. It vas more rigid than the usual ones, so it hurt more. It had a red strip of leather braided in vith the usual black strips so I could tell it from the others. I got a certain number of blows across my buttocks, depending on the severity of the infraction, either Tail or ordinary Rule. The most vas five, but usually I got much less. However, if I cried out or tried to evade the blow, I vould get one more added to the total for each time I did that, also the same as vould have happened during ordinary punishments. It did not take long to learn not to do that.”

Logan nodded. That apparently made sense to him. “Sounds as if he was a rather harsh taskmaster.”

“That, mein Freund, is an understatement to say the least. Vith me, it produced the sort of results he vanted.”

Logan stares off into space for a moment, as if he is thinking about something. Then he comes back to the present.

“As the twig is bent,” he says softly, “so grows the tree.”

“Vhat?”

“Haven’t you ever heard that proverb?”

I shake my head, then I try translating it into German, to see if it might sound more familiar. “ ’Wie der Zweig gebogen wird, so wächst der Baum’.“

“Yeah, that’s it. You mean you’ve never heard it before?”

“I have not. I think ve do not say that in Germany.”

“Your Herr Grüber was obviously familiar with the concept,” Logan replies, somewhat disdainfully.

“Ja, it vould seem so. But vhy do you say ‘tvig’? That is a very small branch, not a young tree like a seedling.”

“How would I know? That’s just the way it goes, that’s all.”

“Vell, the meaning is certainly true, in any case.”

“Enough of this. Let’s get back to the story, huh?”

I glance out the window, and see the barest hint of gray in the darkness beyond. There will not be time to tell him much more before the dawn will be upon us, and we will have to get up. There are, after all, classes to teach. Whatever happens between us, it will not be resolved in the short time remaining in this night. But I can make a start.

I nod and try to relax back against him as I go on.

“It vas not all sex, you know. Like any child growing up in a circus, I had lots of other things I had to do also, besides being a dancing freak in the sideshow. The sideshow only ran before and after the main circus shows, vhich left me free to take a small part in the real performances. I had a talent for acrobatics, so I started at an early age in the children’s acrobatic show. Of course, I could not appear as I really looked or no one vould pay to see me as a freak. Mutants vere not generally recognized for vhat they vere in those days, since they vere still relatively rare and the general public knew nothing except a few stories about people vith strange abilities or appearances. At that time, I did not know vhat I vas either. It got much harder to disguise myself later on, when the existence of mutants became common knowledge.

“The manager of the children’s troupe decided to hide me in plain sight: all the children vere costumed as little devils vith tails and vore makeup in various colors and designs. To make me even less conspicuous, I had to be a little girl, vith a flouncy short skirt and long curly vig. The skirt covered part of my tail, so if I forgot now and then to hold it stiff and artificially curved like the fake tails the others vore, it vould be less noticeable.

“Vhen ve had a parade down the main street of a town to attract people to the show, I rode along on the elephant, vearing a loose clown costume and makeup that concealed me completely as I juggled some colorful balls or balanced on my hands.”

Zirkus Sonnig was not large or well-known. In fact, as circuses went, it was somewhat disreputable, but I did not know that back then. It traveled mostly around Bavaria, so, unlike the American circuses that often had long distances to cover between stops, we usually had to drive for only a short time. Since all of Germany is only about the size of the state of Montana, and Bavaria is only one part of Germany, we did not spend large amounts of time in transit, which gave us more time for setting up the tents and other necessary equipment. In all, there were only nine large trucks to carry equipment and animals, plus varying numbers of individual campers or trailers belonging to the performers and other workers. Herr Grüber and I lived in his nicest trailer, and he had another one for some of his sideshow people, while still others had their own trucks or campers.

Every winter we stayed at our quarters in the small town of Schönberg in central Bavaria, which I have already mentioned. The other children in the circus would go to the local school during that time, but I had my own private tutor, since I could not appear in public unless I was thoroughly concealed by my clothing. It being winter and very cold, that was not too difficult for me to accomplish so long as I was outside, but it would not work indoors at a school.

As for the sex, even when I became old enough to learn more complex behaviors, it still was not that bad. As soon as my fingers became fairly good at what they did, Herr Grüber started working on other parts of me. By the time he started training me to accept anal penetration, I was so accustomed to knowing about such things that I approached it as just another lesson I must learn in order to please him. After all, I had been used to having his finger up my ass on a regular basis, ever since my nurse had been dismissed.

After my fifth birthday, I was put to bed every night with a butt plug in my ass, in gradually increasing sizes. It was during this time that he taught me the floating cloud meditation that has proven so effective. By my sixth birthday, he had sold the right to take my virginity, such as it was, to the highest bidder he could find.

But you must not think he just let someone rip me open. Oh no. He was always very careful, setting limits and keeping an eye on what was done. As a result, I was never seriously injured during any of this, although it was painful and frightening at times, especially that first time with an adult man.

If I did very well, he vould tell me I was his besonderes Dämon-Kind, or his kluger kleiner Teufel. Then he would bring me a gift from the midway. Maybe some cotton candy or popcorn or some small trinket he thought I would like.

If I seemed sad about being different from the other children, he would tell me that, if I were like the others, I would not be able to do all these things so well and he would not love me as much.

As I have mentioned, there were punishments if I broke his rules, but when I was punished, it was only because I deserved it. Most of the time, I got pleasure from what he did, and also from what my private customers did to me. Herr Grüber was always right there, not permitting anyone to be rough or brutal to me. As any child might do, I thought of him as my teacher and protector.”



Logan breaks into my story, clearly unable to keep quiet any longer. “Elf, he only protected you like that because he didn’t want to ruin you.”

“Ruin me?”

“Think about it. If he let everyone rape you repeatedly and brutally, how long would it have been before you were terrified, traumatized, and no longer attractive to the customers? Rip your asshole open often enough and long enough, and you’d lose your muscle tone and be unable to do what you now do so well. Same thing if he let you catch all kinds of diseases. He didn’t want to damage his valuable merchandise. Can’t you see that?”

“I can now, but it did not feel that vay back then.”

“Of course not! What did you know about such things? You were a kid.”

My eyes are staring down at the floor again, as I acknowledge the full extent of how well and surely Herr Grüber had manipulated me. “I guess you think I should have resisted vhat he –“

“How? What could you have realistically done to stop him? Give yourself a break. It wasn’t your fault, so why are you looking so ashamed? Are you afraid I’ll think less of you because you didn’t fight back?”

“No. Not for that exactly.”

“What then?”

“Gott hilf mir, I enjoyed it! I vanted it! I vanted his love! I vould do anything he told me to do, just so I could get his approval.”

“All children need love, Elf, just like we do,” Logan says, petting my head and smoothing my hair back gently. “Why would you be any different?”

“They don’t need that kind of love!!” I retort, too loudly and with my voice breaking at the end.

“No, they don’t. But if they can’t get one kind of love, they’ll take another. Do some research on brainwashing, darlin’. There’s more than one way to break someone’s will, and one of those ways is to convince them to love you.”

I think about that as I struggle to get myself under control. Finally, I am composed enough to ask, “Logan, do you think I am crazy because of vhat Herr Grüber did to me?”

“As far as sex goes, Elf, I think you’re one of the sanest people I’ve ever known. Also, one of the most knowledgeable, and you didn’t learn that in your acrobatics class. Take that floating like a cloud thing, for instance. Turned out to come in handy, didn’t it?”

“But I learned that from Herr Grüber.”

“I know, but it works, doesn’t it?”

I nod grudgingly.

Logan leans forward and kisses my eyes. “So don’t worry about it. I’ll never think any less of you for what someone else did a long time ago.”

I am about to tell him he might very well think less of me if he knew the rest of what I did, but at that moment, our alarm clock goes off.

We both jump. Logan reaches the clock first and turns it off. I am glad he did not slice it in half, as he has sometimes done. The sun has somehow managed to hoist itself up above the horizon unnoticed by either of us.

We look at each other and shrug our shoulders. “I guess it is time for me to get up,” I say reluctantly.

“Serves ya right for agreeing to teach an early class this semester. I get to sleep for another couple of hours.” He grins and flops down onto his side, pulling the pillow up over his head.

As I get out of bed, I hear his muffled voice call out, “This discussion isn’t finished, Kurt. Just postponed until tomorrow night.”

“Ja,” I agree, without enthusiasm.


THE HOUSE
Interlude


As Logan comes in the door to the suite of rooms we occupy here at the School, he finds me sitting in the chair by the window in our bedroom, a bottle of beer in one hand and an empty bottle already on the windowsill.

“OK, Kurt, what’s goin’ on? I don’t usually see ya drinkin’ this early in the day.”

I glance at the clock beside our bed. “It is 4:36 PM, mein Schatz. That is not so early.”

“Umm,” is the noncommittal response. He comes over, lifts my hand and the bottle together to check the level of the fluid. Half empty. Or half full, if you are an optimist. He leans down next to me, pressing his lips against mine.

When we end the kiss, I make a face and tell him, “You taste like your last cigar.”

“And you taste like your last beer, with a side order of brimstone.”

Nothing unusual about either complaint. We are just sparring with each other, as we often do.

“OK, darlin’, gonna tell me why the beer?”

“Ja. Very simple. I have something to show you from my childhood and I am trying to get in a relaxed mood, since I know it vill not be easy.”

For a moment, he is puzzled. “I thought we were gonna finish our talk about that tonight, Elf. In bed.”

“Ve are. But I vas just unpacking a box of old books I have had sent over from vhere they vere being stored in Germany. I thought I might be able to use some of them in my Intermediate German class next year. In a corner of the box, along vith a few other keepsakes, I found something that had once been very important to me, and I vish now to show it to you.”

Lifting the bottle to my lips, I drink the rest of the beer, set the bottle on the windowsill along with the previous one, and open another from the cardboard carton at my feet. Only then do I stand up, prepared to lead the way into the room I use as my study.

Logan raises an eyebrow, glancing at the remaining beers in the carton on the floor. I nod, so he picks them up and carries them with us, taking one for himself as we go.

“So show me this keepsake that’s so important you have to fortify yourself with three bottles of Löwenbräu before you can deal with it.” He slumps down into the reclining chair in the corner of my study where I do most of my reading, taking several swallows of his beer. Then he nods approvingly at the bottle in his hand. “Good stuff.”

“Danke. Does that mean I have finally convinced you that German beer is better than that horse piss you Americans drink?”

“Uh-huh. Especially if you’re the one paying for it.”

I ignore his jest. From amongst the piles of books scattered around my desk, I pick up a small object and bring it over to him, draping myself bonelessly across his lap. He switches on the bright reading lamp next to the chair, then props me up with one arm behind my shoulders, as I hold my hand out to him. “Here.”

Setting his beer on the floor, he takes the little object into his own large hand, turning it around and examining it quizzically in the light from the lamp. “A little house. Looks pretty old. A corner of the yard is broken off, but somebody seems to have tried to smooth it out and paint it so it’s not so noticeable.”

“Ja. I did that.”

“So what’s the deal?”

I prop my head against his shoulder and the back of the chair and steel myself for what is to come with a long swallow of beer.

“One day vhen I vas about nine years of age, Herr Grüber came over to me carrying the dreaded riding crop with the red braid – and something else,” I begin.



“H – have I been bad, mein Herr? Am I to be punished? Vhat have I done?” I said, my voice growing more despondent with each sentence.

He shook his head. No. I am not to be punished. I released the breath I was holding.

“You’re a big boy now, Kurt, and I’m going to start the next phase of your training. You will find it to be unpleasant at times, so I’m going to give you something that will help you deal with it.”

He held out his hand. I saw a small but detailed model of a house. It was that kind where the first story is brick, in this case painted white, while the second story slightly overhangs the first and is mostly white, but has numerous large timbers at angles, all painted black. I think this style is often called Tudor in this country. The roof was shingled, and a red brick chimney ran up one side of the building. I could see the house only from the front, but it had a bay window protruding from the side that was opposite from the chimney. The little house rested on a section of pale green lawn with several bushes. There was a wooden door with a path leading up to it.

Why would he want to give me such a thing? I dared not even take it from his hand until he indicated I might do so.

“Mein Herr, I do not understand. Vhat am I to do vith this?”

“Over the next couple of days, I want you to study it very closely. Memorize the outside so well that you can see it clearly in your mind, then decide how it looks on the inside. Visualize the rooms, the locations, what it would look like if you were standing inside it.

”But how can I know vhat it looks like on the inside? It has no real inside.”

“You must choose for yourself how you want it to look, in so much detail that you can fix it securely in your mind. Where is the kitchen? The bedrooms? Living room, bathroom? Is there a study? A hallway? Where are the stairs? Which bedroom is yours? Since the entire house belongs to you, you can construct it in whatever way you want it to be.”

“However I vant?”

“Ja. Except there is one thing that must be there: beneath the entire house, there is a basement. This basement is dark, damp, and cold. It is full of dust and dirt, for no one ever goes down there. Rats and mice scurry on the floor, spiders spin their webs in corners and ceilings. Water seeps through the cracks in the walls when it rains. Scary things reach out from the shadows. Strange and frightening noises assault your ears. The stairs that lead down into this basement are old and rotten. They may not hold the weight even of a boy such as yourself.”

“Herr Grüber, I – I do not think I vish to live in a house that has such a terrible basement.”

“You have no choice, mein kleines Dämon-Kind. It is where you will be.”

I averted my eyes and nodded, trembling.

“In time, you will learn to love that basement, for it is the place where you will keep all the things you cannot stand to face in the light of day. If you are afraid, you will push your fear down through that doorway, and let it fall to the bottom of those rickety stairs. Disgust will go there also, along with shame and humiliation. This is where you will send your nightmares, when you awaken from them crying.

“But most of all, when you are hurt, this is where you will put your pain, so you will not feel it so much as it is happening to you. You will imagine it stored down in the far corners of that basement, surrounded by nasty things. You will see the rats gnawing on it, cockroaches scuttling over it. The things that gibber and shriek in the shadows will tear at it, until it’s all gone, and all that’s left is you, tucked calmly and safely in your warm bed in your own cozy bedroom.”

“But vhy vill I have to do that?”

“You will not have to do it, Kurt.” He hit me across the face with the riding crop, not terribly hard, but hard enough. “You will want to do it.”

And indeed, I did, if it would ease the sharp sting across my cheek and the pain of my bleeding lip.

“Your next lessons will be on the uses of pain, child. It will take some years for you to master this part of your training, and you will not enjoy it very much. Or perhaps -- who knows? – you may be one of those who do enjoy it, once you know what it’s like.”

He held the little object closer to me, in front of my face. “Study your house very closely, mein kleiner Teufel. Learn to live in it and make it your own.”

I stared dubiously at the gift he proposed to give me.

“Mein Herr, is it permitted that I ask you a question?”

“Yes. Whether or not I answer is, as always, my choice.”

“How did you learn all the things you teach me, and vill teach me in the future?”

“How do you think?”

“Someone taught you, as you are teaching me.”

“Yes.”

“Who?” I did not really expect an answer, but I got one.

“My father.”

Perhaps I should have expected that, but I did not. “He gave you – this?” I replied, pointing one finger tentatively at the house he still held in his hand.

He nodded.

“May I also ask if he – sold you – as you do me?”

“No, child. He kept me for his own exclusive use.”

I hesitated for a moment before daring to take this idea any further. But he was not frowning, nor had he threatened me with the riding crop so far.

“Did you – enjoy it?” My voice faded out towards the end, as my courage finally failed me.

“That I will not answer, Kurt. Never speak to me again about this subject. Verstehst du?”

“Ja, I understand. I vill not.”

He smiled. I had pleased him yet again. “You’re a good boy, child. Don’t be afraid. This will not all be bad. There are good things to come for you, if you learn your lessons well.”

I wanted to ask what good things, but knew better than to push my luck. I glanced up at him trustingly, hoping for an explanation.

“I have spoken to M’sieur Villaume. He is willing to let you try out tomorrow. If you do well, he will start training you on the trapeze along with his own son, during the winter months.”

My heart sang with joy. I had wanted this for so long, but had thought it would never be permitted to me. I knew I had the ability to be an aerialist. I had stared for many long hours at the Villaume family up on the trapezes. I knew the basic moves, and had practiced some of them from the branches of trees whenever I could. I was the best acrobat in our small troupe of children, better than some of the adults. My dream might now be possible after all!

Or it might be, if I continued to please Herr Grüber. For I had no illusions about that. If I did not learn these new lessons, and learn them well, he would not let me do this come winter.

“I vill make you proud of me, mein Herr,” I promised fervently. “In all vays.” I held out my hand for the little house.

Satisfied, he placed it on my small palm. “Do you now begin to know what this is, Kurt?”

I stared up at him, my eyes wide, and shook my head.

“Child, this is the House of Pain.”

I curled my few fingers around the precious gift he had given me. “I accept it villingly.”




Logan drains the beer from the bottle in his hand and drops it to the floor to join the four others that are now lying there.

“Aw, shit, Elf,” he says, wrapping both arms around me. “Not when you were only nine years old.”

“Ja,” I say, my voice muffled against his chest. “Herr Grüber believed in starting his training young.”

“Motherfuckin’ son-of-a-bitch!!”

“Do you mean you think he fucked dogs?” I inquire archly, looking up so Logan can see my face.

“Huh?” At least I had derailed the string of curses that would have come next.

“Vell, if he is the son of a bitch, his mother is a dog, nicht wahr? And if he fucks his mother, he vould be fucking –“

Logan holds up a hand to stop me as he finishes the sentence himself. “—a dog.”

“Ja.”

“You’re not gonna tell me you don’t know what I meant, are ya?”

I gaze at him with a look of innocent incomprehension.

“Look, Elf, it’s an –“

“—idiom. Ja, I know.” I grin as I get up off his lap. “Just trying to lighten things up, mein Freund. The melodrama in here vas getting so thick I vould soon have to have teleported us avay before ve suffocated.” Grabbing a hand, I pull him up from the chair. “Come. It is almost time for supper and I’m hungry, despite all this beer. Lass uns gehen.”

As I turn to drag him towards the door, I feel a sharp smack across my backside just below my tail.

“Ow!” I turn and look at him reproachfully. “Vhat did you do that for?”

“Just because I can, smartass.”

I could not resist the obvious comeback. “Vell, my ass may not be all that smart, but it is certainly smarting just now.”

“Agh!” he exclaims, putting his arm around my waist as we head down the stairs to dinner.

Part 2:
SO GROWS THE TREE

Wie der Zweig gebogen wird, so wächst der Baum.
As the twig is bent, so grows the tree.




The sun has set long ago and most of the others have finished dinner, yet still I sit pushing the food around on my plate. It is good and I am hungry, but I cannot force myself to eat very much, as my stomach appears to be playing host to a large flock of restless butterflies.

Logan leans over to me and says softly, “All right, darlin’. You know you’re just stalling now. Let’s get this over with.”

I nod my acquiescence and rise to my feet. In silence, we climb the two flights of stairs to our suite of rooms on the third floor, where most of the adults and teachers have their quarters. Logan locks the door behind us as we go in, as he usually does.

Again, as is our usual practice, we strip off all our clothes and head for the bed. The only unusual things about all this tonight is that it is far earlier than our regular bedtime, and I am not looking forward to what will happen when we are both in bed.

Logan piles all of our pillows into a comfortable heap in the middle of the headboard, tucks himself under the covers and props himself up reclining against the pillows, then looks at me with one eyebrow raised. I sigh and reluctantly lie down by his side, pulling the covers up over me also. It is a cold night for early March, and the heating system of the mansion is not always quite adequate for me to feel comfortable during a cold spell. Maybe I should get up and get my housecoat and wear that. No, Logan has already gotten his arms around me. He would tell me I am just stalling if I get up again. And he would be right. Oh well, if I stay here for a while, I will surely get warm lying next to him like this. I bend my legs and press my cold feet against his warm calves.

He sighs. “You’re not really into this, are you, Elf?”

“It is that obvious?”

“Sure. Any other night, especially a chilly one, you’d be wrapped around me tighter than a boa constrictor with his prey, but you’re just lyin’ there tonight.”

“This is not easy for me, you know.”

“I know.” All of a sudden, his face takes on this “I got an idea” expression. Uh-oh. Last night it was 20 Questions. What is it this time?

He grins at me, then tries to frown menacingly. “I may not hafe vays of makink you talk, but I do hafe vays of makink it easier for you to talk.” He leans over across me, rummaging in the drawer of my nightstand.

I cannot help but smile at the overdone German accent.

Having found what he is searching for and gotten back to his side of the bed, he holds up the butt plug that he gave me for my birthday last November. It is a pretty thing, made of solid cobalt blue glass, about 15 centimeters long and 5 centimeters wide at the bottom of the rounded cone-shaped part. Below that, it narrows down to a little under 3 cms before widening out into a large flat circular base. Being glass, it is heavy, smooth, and usually cool to the touch.

I know immediately what he is suggesting. Mild arousal always loosens my tongue. This might work.

I nod in agreement, leaning over to grab a fingerful of lube from the container that sits discreetly in a carved wooden box on my nightstand. As I rub the greasy stuff onto the butt plug and my ass, I smile again as I remember how we started using Crisco a few weeks ago, when we ran out of the usual lube one night and frantically ransacked the kitchen for a substitute. It turned out not to be as messy as the regular water-based stuff, and lots cheaper.

Rolling onto my side, I bend one leg up sharply, raise my tail, and present my willing rear to Logan for insertion. As such things go, this is not a small plug by any means, so he works it in gradually, allowing me time to adjust. As the widest part opens me and slides in, I sigh as I feel the familiar pressure settle into place. I can already sense some of my anxiety dissolving. When I sleep part of the night with this plug in place, I wake up as horny as can be. I suspect that is the reason Logan gave it to me in the first place.

He presses a finger gently against the circular base, rocking it back and forth inside me. I squirm at the lovely sensations, tucking myself more tightly into the warmth of his arms. Much better. Maybe I can talk about this after all. Clearing my throat, I give it a try.


“As I said this afternoon, Herr Grüber gave me that little model of a house and told me how I vas to use it. I took him at his vord, and began to imagine it in my mind, deciding the entire top floor, including the large bay vindows on the front and side of the house, vas my bedroom, since no one else lived there except me. It vas full of light and cheerfulness, and I decorated it vith all the things that gave me delight. Pictures of peaceful green forests, snow-covered mountains, and ships sailing over dramatically stormy seas covered the valls, along vith circus posters that advertised my incredible skill on the trapeze and high vire. Stained glass filled the panes of one of the vindows, throwing splotches of color around the big room. There vere shelves and shelves of books for me to read, and a large soft bed with a comfortable quilt of squares sewn together, all in different shades of purple. The ceiling vas a vast painting of stars in all their many constellations and patterns. It vas a room of happy dreams and cheerful days, the kind of place I had alvays vanted.

“I put a spacious bathroom vith a large tub at the side of the room furthest from the vindows, imagining how nice it vould be to fill that tub vith hot vater and soak in it on cold days. The toilet vas lower to the ground and smaller, to conveniently fit my child’s stature. I figured I could make it bigger later on, as I grew older. I covered the floor vith thick rugs, so my feet vould never be cold from valking on a bare floor.

“All this vas fun, but then I had to create the bottom story, vith it