Benedikt had never seen Captain Kaemmer look so disheveled and damp. Sweat clung to his hairline and his unshaved upper lip. The pitted white shirt was half-buttoned, as was his formal grey breeches. They didn’t go with the shirt or with the coat draped over his thick shoulders. For some reason, Kaemmer was wearing leather gloves. The captain stood in front of the rectory door, arms crossed, holding his hat in one hand. He put it on and straightened up the moment he saw Benedikt approach.
“Father Veidt. I thought I’d find you here.” Kaemmer’s voice cracked as he spoke.
“Of course you did.” Benedikt remarked dryly. “Have you been here for a long time?”
“No, not at all. I wanted to make sure I caught you when you returned.”
Benedikt looked Kaemmer squarely in the eye. His pale grey eyes were bloodshot and ringed with dark circles. This wasn’t the gaze of a man who was here for a friendly talk, but if he was here for business, he hadn’t bothered to clean up. Benedikt’s stomach turned as he considered what Kaemmer might know. Thankfully, Benedikt was good at keeping his thoughts to himself. He kept a straight face as he figured out what to do next.
“Excuse me.” Benedikt pulled the key out of his pocket and held it up. Kaemmer didn’t move until Benedikt pushed him to the side with his shoulder and attempted to slide in without opening the door wide. Kaemmer grabbed the edge of the door.
“I’m sorry.” Kaemmer pleaded, “I can’t end my shift without speaking to you.”
“About what?” Benedikt said cautiously.
“There’s a suspicious member of your congregation and I need your counsel.”
Benedikt stiffened. Damnit, again with this request. He should never have agreed to speak to the Gestapo about anything. Their dogs would follow anyone who offered them the slightest morsel of information.
“I have not heard any further confessions, Captain Kaemmer.” Benedikt said, his voice low and annoyed. “There’s nothing to share.”
“No, that’s not it-” Kaemmer broke into a few hacking coughs. The coat slid off his shoulders and crumpled on the bottom stair.
“Are you sick, Captain?” Benedikt asked.
“No.” Kaemmer shook his head. “I’ve been awake for two days and the evening chill gets to me.” He picked up the jacket and draped it over his shoulders again. Benedikt could now see that it was a winter jacket. It may have been evening, but it was an August evening. Benedikt suspected Kaemmer put it on to go with the formal breeches because there was nothing else he could wear.
Pitiful, Benedikt thought to himself, half sarcastically and half sincerely.
“I need to talk to you.” Kaemmer said. “Can I come in?”
Benedikt glanced at the dark insides of the parish house. The maid was gone and wouldn’t be expected until Monday. Konrad was away to sit with a dying man and there was no way to know when he would return. The house was dark, but Georg or Hans might be somewhere inside. Could Benedikt trust them to be nosy enough to interrupt them if need be?
“Come get a cup of tea.” Benedikt opened the door. Kaemmer didn’t even need to be guided to the kitchen, a fact that made Benedikt feel even more annoyed. How many times had Kaemmer imposed himself on the priests here? He’d gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? As Benedikt turned on the lights and prepared the water, he felt not just annoyed with Captain Kaemmer, but with himself for expecting anything from the fascists. It had done him no good - he was stuck with a Gestapo officer, sitting at his table, saying nothing as he watched Benedikt intensely.
“Which parishioner is keeping you up at all hours, Captain?” Benedikt asked.
“You don’t have to be so formal. We’ve been working together for a long time. Call me Bruno.” Kaemmer said as he placed his hat on an empty chair. His tone was friendly but still intense.
“Who are you investigating, Captain Kaemmer?” Benedikt asked.
Kaemmer sighed.
“I’m looking into your boys, Father.”
“Is this about Luke again?” Benedikt said as he placed the teacups on the table. “He still comes to church, but his aunt and uncle are Protestants. I only knew about his parents.”
“How do you know about Luke’s relatives?”
“He told me after his parents were arrested.”
Kaemmer grunted.
“Are you close to all the boys?”
“I care about the wellbeing of all the acolytes.”
“But are you close? Like a real father would be?”
“To some.” Benedikt said, pulling the boiling kettle off the stove and putting in the tea leaves. “I can only tell you about the ones who need extra guidance. You already handled the one whose parents weren’t teaching him good German values.”
Kaemmer didn’t react. He had been oddly still the entire time, staring a hole through Benedikt’s chest.
“Are there any other boys you’re close to, Father?” Kaemmer asked. “You’re kind to everyone, I can imagine some other boys coming to you for advice. Catholics, Lutherans, Jews… and I can imagine you wanting to help them, yes?”
There wouldn’t be enough time to make sure the tea was properly steeped. Benedikt quickly brought the kettle to the table and poured Kaemmer a cup.
“What are you getting at?” Benedikt said, sitting down across from him. He poured himself some of the poorly steeped tea and made himself drink it.
Kaemmer didn’t look at his teacup.
“What I’m getting at, Father,” Kaemmer’s voice lowered, “is that I’ve heard about how you help little boys. Little Jewish boys.”
Benedikt froze as he prepared to react to this statement. Kaemmer’s gaze stayed locked on him. If Kaemmer was truly hunting him down, maybe a whiff of truth would be enough to send the captain back.
“What?” Benedikt asked with genuine confusion.
“I’m doing my job, Father.” Kaemmer placed a hand on Benedikt’s knee. “If you’re keeping Jews, I need to make sure they’re moved as soon as possible.”
Benedikt slid back, away from Kaemmer and against the wall.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Kaemmer’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he scooted closer to Benedikt. Somehow it did not trigger the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs to see what was going on. Now Kaemmer placed both hands on Benedikt’s thighs and stroked them gently.
“Do you do anything with them, Father?” Kaemmer said as he leaned in closer, pupils dilating. He smelled unclean.
Benedikt tried to stand up and was shoved down by the weight of Kaemmer’s hands against his thighs.
“I love your secrets.” Kaemmer hissed. Benedikt opened his mouth and Kaemmer shoved his hand inside. It was an effective gag - Kaemmer didn’t remove it, even as Benedikt bit down and pressed his tongue against the leather knuckle. The other gloved hand snaked between Benedikt’s thighs and rested next to his cock.
“I already know so much about you, Father. I know all about what happened to you before you were abandoned at the orphanage. I know every vow you’ve broken and I’ve let you keep your reputation. Can you trust anyone else here with that knowledge?” Kaemmer’s voice lowered. He rubbed his thumb against Benedikt’s shaft.
Benedikt began to sweat. He suddenly welcomed the silence in the rectory. Kaemmer pulled his hand out of Benedikt’s mouth and smiled when Benedikt didn’t scream, even when Kaemmer’s leather fingertips slid up his cock and into his pants.
“Now, tell me about those boys you’re hiding from me.” Kaemmer said softly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Benedikt whispered.
Kaemmer undid Benedikt’s pants and pulled out his half-erect cock.
“Are you sure?” Kaemmer stroked the cock slowly, giving the foreskin a pinch once it went over the head of Benedikt’s cock, then sliding it back down.
“I don’t know.” Benedikt tried to will his cock asleep. Kaemmer jerked him off like it was second nature to him, a wide grin on his face the entire time.
“Are you thinking about what those boys look like, Father? Do you imagine them naked?” Kaemmer said breathily. Benedikt noticed the bulge in Kaemmer’s pants growing and shut his eyes.
“No.”
Benedikt involuntarily shuddered as Kaemmer found a sensitive spot on the underside of his head. As if on cue, Kaemmer focused his attention on this spot.
“Liar.” Kaemmer sneered.
Benedikt’s mind was a wheel of slides, skipping erratically from topic to topic. Someone should have heard this, he could scream but then the men might notice the way he glanced at Kaemmer’s erection, no he had to get out, at least he could divert attention away, oh God it came, Benedikt held his breath as he came. His load splashed up onto his lower stomach and stained his pants. At some point, Kaemmer had pulled his cock out and was stroking himself as well.
“I can be your friend if you’d let me.” Kaemmer murmured. He held Benedikt’s face with his leather gloved, cum-soaked hand and kissed him, deeply, passionately. Benedikt sat still, merely waiting for the end. He didn’t even react when Kaemmer pulled a knife out of his boot.
“Tell me where you’re hiding them, Father.” Kaemmer asked.
Benedikt shook his head. The tip of the knife pressed against his chin.
“At least tell me what you’re doing with them.” Kaemmer said.
Benedikt stared deeply into Kaemmer’s eyes. Mad, Benedikt thought to himself, completely sincerely.
“There’s nothing for you here.” Benedikt said.
Kaemmer’s smile faded. He grabbed the back of Benedikt’s head and pulled him to the floor, shoving the other chair out of the way. Benedikt didn’t try to pull himself up. He didn’t try to pull away when Kaemmer sliced open the back of his pants and underwear. He didn’t even react when Kaemmer spit into his asscrack. There was the telltale sensation of fingers prodding at his hole, widening it, the press of Kaemmer’s hard cock against his ass. Benedikt only reacted when the cock first slid in. It was too dry and painful and he couldn’t help but yelp. Nothing else in the house moved except Kaemmer’s hips. No one would save him.
“You’re probably thinking about your boys, eh?” Kaemmer whispered as his cock raked Benedikt’s insides. “How’s it feel to be on the receiving end?”
Benedikt squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to imagine himself somewhere better.
“Which member of your family taught you how to take cock like this?” Kaemmer continued on - it was as if he was speaking to himself now. “I bet it felt so good you have to teach everyone now, huh?”
Oh God, the stretching was excruciating. Kaemmer’s cock was so much thicker than any other cock he'd ever taken and the sex had never been so painful. Benedikt tried to focus on his breathing. Breathing out, letting the pain fade away, trying not to imagine what Kaemmer must look like as he prattled on about his sick fantasies.
"You're lucky you can't carry any whelps of your own, you cum-hungry slut. You make men and boys waste their energy on you and you can't even use it."
Breathe in, breathe out.
“You’re a fucking faggot, Father.” Kaemmer grunted. “And if I don’t break this place down to find those Jews, I’m going to break you.”
Breathe in, breathe out. Oh God.
“Faggot. Faggot.” Kaemmer’s voice cracked as he repeated the word. His thrusting sped up, causing more pain but signaling the end of this nightmare. Benedikt felt the cum flood him, then immediately gush forth as Kaemmer pulled out. Benedikt’s ass was a point of wetness and agonizing pain, drowning out any other sensation. He was only vaguely aware of Kaemmer standing up, over his body.
“Thank you for your hospitality.” Kaemmer said. “I’d help you clean up, but I don’t think we’re on friendly terms yet.”
Benedikt opened his eyes slowly.
“You’ll think about telling me more next time we meet, right?” Kaemmer said.
Benedikt nodded weakly.
He heard Kaemmer’s boots as he walked through the rectory, followed by the sound of the door shutting behind him. Benedikt lifted himself up slowly. Cum and blood dripped out of his asshole and down into his ruined pants. He removed them - it was clear that no one was here to see him. Tomorrow he would wash them and do his best to fix the cut. But right now, Benedikt needed to clean the kitchen.
- - -
This story was initially written as an exercise in edginess. I wanted to write about something that would deeply horrify me and yet also fascinate and excite me. Admittedly writing it was quite difficult and imitated my own experience as a sexual assault survivor, so I had to take time away from it once I was done. However, when I came back, I was intrigued by these characters' dynamic and wanted to explore it even more. It kicked off a desire to explore a period of time I'd written off as unmentionable, acknowledging the dirtiness and horror of the Nazis without flinching and accepting the discomfort that comes from being fascinated by cruelty. Experience the horror, sit with my discomfort, and then release it in one big breath. What a relief.