34 Hendrichplatz was situated in the suburb of Lichtenberg to the east of the city. A pleasant street bounded by a park. Most of the houses, grand turn of the century buildings, were damaged by air raids in early 1945. During the Soviet occupation they remained largely derelict. It was only in the mid nineties, several years after the fall of the Berlin wall that the damaged buildings became the target of a new kind of invader. Young professionals moved in and the process of renovation and gentrification began. Claus Albrecht, an up and coming young city lawyer bought number 34 in 2010.
The house had a troubled history. Before a direct hit by an RAF Mosquito on the night of January 29th 1945 it had been the local Gestapo HQ. The four storeys above ground had housed the administrative centre where secretaries tapped away at their typewriters filling the bustling place with their chatter. But it was the floor below ground level that earned the fear and loathing of those brought here for interrogation, and with very good reason. It was in effect a torture chamber where suspects were exposed to the full gamut of Gestapo techniques intended to gain information and extract confessions. Of course many of their operatives also saw this as an excellent outlet for their sadistic tendencies, the state sanctioning their vile activities in the name of Adolf Hitler.
Standing in the ruins of the house Albrecht contemplated what he knew from his research into the history of the house. Descending the steps to the cellar where piles of masonry still littered the floor he cast his eyes around in the darkness. His powerful flashlight illuminated the rusting iron barred doors that hung drunkenly from their hinges where they gave access to three holding cells. Inside one of the cells a pair of manacles still attached to the wall by a chain that last held a prisoner three quarters of a century before bore witness to the dramatic events that had taken place here. Albrecht felt his cock stiffen as he imagined himself about to interrogate the naked man who, unable to escape his fate, quaked in fear at the sight of his booted and uniformed inquisitor who drew the braided leather whip through his gloved hands as he prepared to inflict unimaginable pain on his helpless victim.
In fact Klaus Albrecht felt a considerable conflict of emotions as far as this was concerned. Much of his work as a defence lawyer involved the protection of those threatened by the authorities. Like most Germans of his generation he felt that Nazism was an indelible stain on the reputation of his nation. But that didn't alter the fact that, once he had dipped his toe into the water, he was helplessly hooked on BDSM, something that was destined to become his lifestyle and see him both feared and desired in equal measure by those who shared his passion, albeit from the opposite end of the spectrum.
Joining BLUF the previous year had been an eye opener for Claus. Once he had bought the skin tight black leather breeches and laced knee high boots which, with the heavy leather belt and matching tight fitting tee shirt top the ensemble combined with his newly shaved head to create an image that most submissive men found absolutely irresistible. He stood before the full length mirrored doors of his walk in wardrobe and admired the image before him. Gym time had given him a body that he was proud of and, to see it now displayed with the benefit of his leather accoutrements, gave him a very pleasurable sensation, his thick cock pressing against the gleaming black leather of his jodhpur style breeches that fitted him like a second skin, apart from at the thighs where the flared leather created that iconic look, redolent of powerful men. He couldn't wait to wear them to a club, to see their effect on those submissive guys who would worship him with unrestrained enthusiasm, desperate for the thick, heavily veined cock that lurked beneath the leather. That ardour drove them on so that many of them would throw themselves upon his mercy, only to find out too late that this was something in very short supply. Albrecht loved to hear them beg, knowing that their pleading would buy them no quarter.
Contracts were exchanged on 34 Hendrichplatz in November 2010 and builders moved in right away. The roof was replaced, windows and doors renewed and the place redecorated throughout. By the end of the decade he was doing well enough in his profession to embark upon a complete refurbishment of the cellar. Once again builders moved in. Claus had sourced them through his contacts in the scene. The young men worked hard, supervised by the occasional visit from the suave city lawyer who wandered down from the house above, bringing trays of coffee and pointing out the features that were to make his cellar one of the most sought after venues for play within that ancient historic city.
When the pandemic hit in 2020 the job had just been completed. One of the workmen who had been with the project from the outset was Uwe Mueller. At twenty seven he was a decade younger than Claus, A rather shy young man whose sexuality had puzzled him since puberty. Coming to terms with the fact that he fancied men not girls was the easy part. This was, after all, a period in time where such inclinations no longer had to be hidden. No, what really bothered Uwe was the inclination that he felt to be dominated. It really made no sense to him. He came from a loving family, his father a gentle man who never raised a hand to Uwe or his two siblings, Franz and Sabine.
At the age of fourteen Uwe had seen a video in which a young man had been kidnapped and taken into a forest by two guys, dressed head to toe in black leather. They had dragged him protesting from their van. The poor boy was screaming as these two thugs had stripped him naked and bound him on his knees to the trunk of a tree. The camera, clearly being operated by a third guy had panned out to show how he had been bound, arms behind him, ankles bound and hauled up cruelly so that he balanced painfully on his knees. A leather and steel device had been fitted over his head that kept his mouth wide open to allow both guys to take their pleasure throat fucking him. Eventually a third guy appeared, obviously the cameraman. He too took his turn after slapping the bound guy about a bit. Uwe really had no idea whether this was a consensual, commercially made video or a genuine assault. What he did know was that, watching it, he came spectacularly. As he did so he imagined himself in the position of that guy. Taken, bound and violated. Oddly to him, this was the stuff of his dreams.
Uwe slouched across the cream leather sofa, coffee mug in his hand. The spring sunshine that was slanting in the windows from across the park behind the house was warm on his body. He wore only a fitted black tee shirt and briefs as he chatted with Claus. His erstwhile employer had befriended him over the past months while the work on the cellar had progressed. They had completed the job only a few weeks earlier and now the whole of Europe was in lockdown as the potentially fatal disease swept through the population. Neither man was especially concerned, they were not in the age group that was seriously threatened, but there could be no denying its effect on their lives had been dramatic. Uwe ran his fingers through his thick blond hair as he regarded Claus who now sat opposite him wearing a white bath robe.
Their first real introduction, apart from taking them coffee, on that day that the work had been completed had been easy. The three men working on the cellar had been recruited by Claus via the internet. An advert asking for men with building experience had appeared on a gay BDSM site and the response had been a surprise. Eventually narrowed down to these three the work had progressed smoothly. Now the cellar, liberally decorated with black paint with holding cells and dungeon equipment, culled from various places around Germany stood ready and waiting for action. In that last week in February as they applied the finishing touches Uwe had caught his employers eye. He had a nice, neat body, finely muscled from his physically demanding occupation. On that final Friday when Claus had gone down to tell them that he had transferred their final wages into their accounts, along with a five hundred Euro bonus, they had packed their things and left. Uwe was the last to leave. Claus got the distinct impression that his tardiness was deliberate, he was waiting to be alone with his boss.
"Thanks for all your hard work Uwe. Maybe we will meet up again at some point. Do you ever visit any of the clubs?"
