WARNING: This story is an act of fiction that contains graphic sexual
descriptions and language. If you are a minor (under 21) or if you are
offended by this kind of material then you should stop reading now.
Any resemblance between this story and a real event is coincidental.
The participants are imaginary; their actions have no negative
consequences other than those portrayed in the story. The story is
intended for entertainment and should not be emulated in the real
world. 

FRAU GRETA VON YURT'S GESTAPO ORDEAL By Arthur Kay

GESTAPO SS-LIEUTENANT Hans Von Yurt stood at ramrod stiff attention
before the desk of his Commandant, SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp and
watched and listened as the man ranted and raved, banging his fist on
the desk for emphasis. He had rarely seen the man this angry. 

So far, SS-Lieutenant Von Yurt had no idea why the man was yelling at
him about some traitorous woman who had sided with the Jews. The SS-
Oberführer soon corrected that lack of his knowledge in the
conversation.

"THE TRAITOR IS YOUR WIFE GRETA, VON YURT. YOUR WIFE!" Hans eyes
widened in disbelief. He couldn't believe his ears. True, Greta had
said some mild things against the Nazi party, to his dismay and
consternation, but traitor? Impossible! She was a loyal German. As
loyal as Der Führer, himself. She just had a funny way of showing it
sometimes.

"Mein Oberführer, I don't believe . . . "

"SHUT UP, VON YURT! There is no denying it, She is the one I am
referring to. She is the one who has used her raggedy and pitiful
little weekly newsletter to blast the party's treatment, or I should
say mistreatment, of the Jews. She's the one, your Greta, who has
created great dissension and discord among the working classes." He
paused. 

"WELL, NO MORE, VON YURT!" He banged his fist hard on the desk top.
"You, SS-Gestapo Lieutenant Von Yurt, are going to personally arrest
that little bitch wife of yours and bring her to me. Do I make myself
perfectly clear, Von Yurt?"

"Y-Yes, mein Oberführer, perfectly clear, sir! Hans stiffened his body
and clicked his heels together. He knew better than to say anything
else, especially any of the argumentative rebuttal thoughts he now
harbored. The man before him was obviously in no mood for a debate.

"Good! Now, go retrieve her, Von Yurt, and deliver her to me, in less
than one hour, in my private quarters." The Commandant looked down at
his wrist watch. "I want to personally teach the traitorous little
cunt some lessons in following party doctrine when it comes to mass
media." He smiled at the Lieutenant. 

Lieutenant Von Yurt cringed, but saluted smartly, pivoted and headed
toward the door. He knew the fate awaiting his beautiful wife of less
than five years, but also knew there was nothing he, or anyone else
for that matter, could do about it. Their fate was sealed. It was now,
he knew, up to Greta as to just how horrible that fate would, or could
get.

A short while later, Hans and Greta Von Yurt were in the back seat of
a large, black unmarked SS-Gestapo car headed for the Commandant's
quarters. Two regular army soldiers sat in front and, one of them, the
driver, was humming a tune. It sounded out of place, given the
circumstances, but at the same time it sounded normal. A thing a
driver would do to pass the time.

Hans hadn't yet told Greta the reason for the trip, but he suspected
she knew something wrong was afoot. He had merely told her that the
commandant wanted to chat with her and she was not to worry, purposely
playing it down so as not to fret her prematurely. Her worry and fret
would come soon enough, he well knew. 

"Hans," Greta said. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?" He nodded, not turning
to her, but still staring out the rear window on his side. "It's
because of those things I wrote, isn't it?" He nodded again, still
staring at the scenery going past. She pumped him further. 

"How bad is it, Hans?" She sounded fearful, so he turned to face her.
He looked very worried. Childlike in his worry. He took her right hand
into both of his and squeezed. He could sense her fear. He had that
fear in himself.

"Very bad, I'm afraid, my liebschen. The Commandant has labeled you a
traitor . . ." He let the words just hang there, waiting for her
response.

"Traitor? That's nonsense, Hans, I'm a loyal party woman, you know
that. So, I played Devil's advocate with my odd views, but . . . "

Hans shushed her. "Liebschen, we don't have much time. We must talk
before we get to the Commandant's quarters." 

Hans leaned over and said something to the driver. It was said too low
for Greta to hear, but a moment later she heard the man say, "Ya,
Lieutenant!" and pull the car over to the curb and kill the engine.
The two regular army soldiers then left the car, slamming doors behind
them. Hans turned to her.

"Hans, I . . . "

"Greta, my liebschen, please, we don't have much time, so listen to me
and listen very carefully. I am helpless in his matter and cannot do a
thing to help you." He squeezed her hand. "I could shoot the two men
with us, but that wouldn't save us, or you. We'd never even make it to
the border or, even if by some incredible miracle we did, we'd never
get through without a border pass.

"They would arrest us and kill us, after putting the two of us through
holy hell." He squeezed her hand again. "Remember Anna?" He knew she
did. She nodded silently. Poor Anna, she thought. Anna had also been
called to have a little chat with the Commandant. She was now
hospitalized and in a mostly vegetative state. Her mind had snapped.

Before her mind had gone, she had told Greta most of the horrid
details. What she told Greta had seemed incredible in this day and
age. Impossible, even. 

Anna had fought the Commandant wildly, even going so far as to bite
his penis when he had attempted to put it into her mouth. He had
beaten her severely and told her he would kill her entire family if
she didn't cooperate. 

She cooperated, as best she could, but that still wasn't enough for
him. He meant to teach her a good lesson. After raping her night and
day for a week, he had turned her over to what he called the barrack's
boys, 160 of his regular army soldiers. They had used her night and
day, every day, without any mercy, for eight months. Anna didn't go
into great detail, but she did say it was the most horrible thing
imaginable, and beyond.

Anna did mention being tied to an army cot, night and day, while a
long line of soldiers waited outside the door for their turn at her.
And Anna's crime? She had called an SS-Gestapo officer a pig after he
had pinched her behind in the restaurant where she waitressed. But how
was she to know he was Schutzstäffel? The dreaded SS. The man was in
plain clothes.

Anna's ordeal might have gone on until they tired of her or she died,
but Anna got pregnant. Most of the men wanted to kill her then and
there, but the barrack's boss, a kindly Corporal Fürst, took pity on
her and sent her home to have the baby. Upon her leaving, Fürst had
told her to go and have a healthy, German soldier boy.

Anna wasn't home three days when she miscarried and lost the baby.
Whether this fact contributed to Anna's deterioration or not will
never be known, but Anna collapsed soon after and lost all sense of
reality. She now spent her days in a home for the mentally insane.

But that was then and this is now.

"Well," Hans was saying. "Anna had no idea what fate was waiting for
her when she fought the commandant. How could she? But, you, my
liebschen, are a step ahead of it all. That could save you from a very
terrible time of it." Greta thought about the barrack's boys. Hans
knew what she was thinking. He spoke again, still very rapidly.

"Yes, that would be terrible. Terrible. But you can prevent that from
happening to you. By not being you, the strong-willed woman, the woman
who takes no crap from anyone . . . including me." He chuckled softly.
It sounded to Greta like a gallows chuckle. She tried to chuckle, too,
but found she couldn't. Her throat was too dry.

"Liebschen," he continued, talking rapidly. "While it kills me inside
to say this, you must humor the man and do everything he tells you to
do, sexual and otherwise. It's the only way, believe me. I've seen and
heard this man in action. He's a beast, a depraved beast. He enjoys
telling stories of how he made the woman fight back, on purpose, by
having her do things she found truly repulsive and the joy and
exhilaration he felt in turning her over to his wretched henchmen. 

"At all costs, you must not fight him. It will only play into his
hands. If there is any hope of you coming out of this, my liebschen,
and being spared Anna's fate, this is it. Use any ability you have
within you to play-act, pretend you like it even, but just don't get
the man angry. Do you understand, my liebschen?" She nodded meekly.
God, she thought, oh, God. What is to become of me? Of us? Hans had
said something more, again rapidly.

" . . . will insist on oral and intercourse, undoubtedly, but he will
also make you perform anal sex. I know, I know. This is something you
absolutely detest and I understand, my love, but he will give you no
choice in the matter. It's do it or suffer Anna's consequences." He
looked at her, great fear and love showing in his pool blue eyes. And
tears. "And, as I well know from listening to his many ugly stories,
his men will use you that way anyway, so please, liebschen, keep that
in mind." He had more tears in his eyes. He's trapped, she thought,
just like I am, but I must now be the strong one. If we are to survive
at all.

One of the soldiers tapped on the rear car window and said, " One more
minute, Lieutenant, sir." Hans turned to her.

"Greta, our time has run out. Do you think you can be a convincing
actress with this vile bastard?" He looked anxious and afraid. Wanting
her to say she could, but hating the fact that she had to.

"Hans, my liebschen, I love you. I can get through this. But will you?
Will your knowing what I have done with this man hurt you so deeply it
kills your love for me? That would kill me quicker than a bullet to my
head." 

"No, liebschen, I know you will have had no choice. My love for you
will remain as srong as it is now. I promise." He reached out and
kissed her. A long kiss. "We have to go now. I love you." He held her
close. "I love you, my liebschen." 

Just as the car door opened, Greta whispered, "I love you, too, my
liebschen Hans." The two soldiers rejoined them in the car and in less
than a minute they were once more underway. 

Hans and Greta sat in the back seat, holding hands, both staring
straight ahead at the backs of the soldier's heads. They both had
tears in their eyes. The car turned a corner and there it was, the
posh hotel that housed the SS-Gestapo. And, as Hans well knew, the
personal penthouse quarters of SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp. The SS-beast.
The SS-beast, Hans thought, who would soon have his dirty hands all
over Greta's lovely body. Making her . . . Hans stopped thinking about
it as the car stopped and the two soldiers got out. 

* * * * * *

AS GRETA STOOD, all alone, in the middle of the Commandant
Oberführer's living room, she concentrated on steeling her will for
the ordeal she could only imagine lay ahead of her. She was sure she
could do as he wished, the bastard, and then blot it out of her mind
later, unlike poor Anna, but she had to call on all the fortitude
within her to play-act her part in the horrible scenario to soon come.
Later was later, she thought, but now, damn it, was now.

A door opened to her right and SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp entered the
room. He was barefooted and wearing a dark purple robe with twin
yellow lightning bolts embroidered on the breast pocket. The insignia
of the SS, the Schutzstäffel, the feared quasi-military arm of the
Nazi party that served as their special police force. The dreaded
Black Shirts. Stemp had a drink in one hand and was smiling at her.
She felt immediately nauseated. And truly frightened.

As he stepped even closer to her, she realized he was a bigger man
that she had remembered. Well over six feet, muscular, but with a
pronounced paunch for a stomach. His chest looked extremely hairy as
it peeked out of the purple robe's vee at his neck. His bare legs,
below the robe, were also extremely hairy. The words hairy beast ran
through her mind.

But it was his face that got her full attention. He was ugly. Not
horribly ugly, but ugliness showed through nonetheless. His face was
fat, wide at the jowls, with a close cropped moustache that reminded
her of Hitler, their beloved Führer. His lips, the bottom one very
fat, wore a scar that crossed diagonally over them both, making them
somehow look very evil. His ears looked too big for even his big face.
They had little hairs growing out of them that repulsed her and
reminded her of a man who should be older than he appeared to be.

"Good evening, Frau Von Yurt. How are you this lovely night?" The way
he had said it, with a slight sneer in it, spoke volumes to her. She
knew he was cat and mousing her, looking over his prey, which he knew
had no avenue of escape. And the bastard, she also knew, was enjoying
it immensely. She was sure he had done this before and was very well
practiced in it. Anna flashed through her mind. Anna had probably
stood in this very same spot. And had the same fears.

"I'm fine, Oberführer. May I go home now, I have many important things
to do there, if that's all right with you." She was immediately sorry
her mouth had gotten ahead of her brain, but, at the same time, she
was pleased with herself. She'd caught him off guard, the bastard, by
the looks of him. He was flustered. But, she reminded herself to be
careful with him. She was in his home court, without any advantage.
And it was he, not she, who would always be the clever one.

He started toward her. "Home? My, my, you've only just arrived here,
my dear. Besides, we haven't had our little chat yet." He was now
standing a foot away from her. "YOU TRAITOROUS LITTLE SLUT!" He
slapped her hard across her right cheek, knocking her head to the
side. The pain was awful and immediate. "HOME! HAH! Until I say so,
you Jew loving little cunt, this is your home!" He grabbed her by the
shoulders and shook her roughly from side to side.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" He put one hand under her chin, gripping it
strongly, and forced her to look directly at him. She saw that he had
spittle on his chin from the yelling.

"Y-yes, Oberführer. I'm sorry if I misspoke. What is it you want to
talk to be about?" She looked pitifiul. He stepped back a few feet and
looked at her, taking her entire body in and making her feel naked. He
read her mind in that direction.

"Before we have our little chat, my dear, I want you to remove every
article of your clothing, every last stitch, and stand at full
attention. Now! AND BE QUICK ABOUT IT!" He smiled at her. He knew she
was trapped. And she knew words were useless with this type of man,
one who wielded power without any thought to another's feelings. 

Resigned, and without a single word of protest, she started to
disrobe, feeling the full, aching pain of humiliation and
embarrassment creeping over her. I love you, Hans, she said to
herself, fighting back the urge to cry. Crying now, she feared, might
make the beast angry. And she knew where his anger could take her.

As she stripped before him, her hands trembling, he said, "I've had my
eye on you for quite some time, Frau Von Yurt, but I suspect you know
that. Tonight, my dear, I'm going to use you as you have never been
used before." She was now down to her bra and panties. She heard him
draw in a gasping breath. "Ah, lovely, lovely, my sweet one. You are,
forgive me for saying it this way, what those fool American's
idiotically call, stacked like a brick shithouse!" He laughed, which
added to her overall embarrassment.

And to the guilt she was also feeling even before she had reached this
state of undress. For, while removing her outer clothing, she had
thought of something Anna had only glossed over; having three of the
barracks boys at a time using all her orifices simultaneously. Anna
had broken down in tears.

But even while consoling Anna, Greta had weird thoughts invade her
mind. She was picturing three men using her that way, and, to her
consternation, the picture in her head was having a strange effect on
her body. She could feel her vagina watering up, a heat coming over
her. 160 barracks boys would be much to much, but just three? Three. 

She knew she was stronger than Anna. She would have survived and not
have gone to pieces. In face, she probably would have convinced them
she even liked it, thereby getting better treatment. More sleep, more
food. But, what scared her the most is, she might have liked it. For
even now, as serious as her situation was, she could feel a
perverseness coming into her mind. 

She had stolen a glimpse at the lower body of the Commandant. His
erection had been poking the robe's material out toward her. She
quickly averted her eyes, but the effect on her was electrifying. She
had to fight her mind, keep it from getting her turned on, keep those
images of what he would be doing to her with the thing now hidden
under the robe. It was a very difficult fight.

She had been a virgin when she had married her childhood sweetheart,
Hans. To be sure, there had been the usual puppy love silliness of
using her hand to manipulate a boy, or two, but it never went the
whole way. She had saved herself for her Hans. And now, he couldn't
help her, even as much as he wanted to. She was at the mercy of man
with power not only over her and Hans, but over the entire barracks
boys. 

Now, as she stood before the man, in preparation of removing the last
of her clothing, she could feel a wetness start to creep into her
vaginal area. It felt as if it was flowing out of her in a copious
manner, wetting her panties. The only saving grace, for which she was
truly thankful, was the fact that her panties were black. The
commandant might not see her tell-tale staining. 

But something deep within her mind, wanted him to. She wanted him to
know she was willing, ready, and very able to do his bidding. This
thought made her feel a flushness creep up her neck. And again, she
thought of Anna.

As she was about to unhook her bra, he placed his drink on the desk,
stepped toward her and said, "Here, let me." He went up to her and put
his thick arms around to her back and deftly undid the clasp. She
could smell alcohol on his breath as the heat of him seemed to ungulf
her. He stepped back, the bra in his hand. He tossed it willy-nilly in
the direction of his desk as if female underclothing meant nothing in
his world. 

As she now stood there, the perfection of her young, firm breasts
fully before his lecherous gaze, she felt the nipples go rigid from
the coolness of the room. This embarrassed her even more and she was
tempted to use her hands to cover herself. She resisted this as Stemp
now moved closer to her. He whistled a low wolf's whistle, the type
men use for pretty females on the street, and then said:

"They are beautiful, just beautiful, your perky little titties. Oh,
yes, my little Jew loving cunt, I'm going to enjoy you tonight." He
reached out and, with both hands, started to squeeze and knead the
twin orbs, tweaking the nipples hard. 

He bent over and put his scarred lips on her right nipple and started
nursing on it. His lips felt rough and sandpapery. She stood there,
trembling and wanting to die. He worked both her breasts for a few
more minutes and then stood back. "The panties." was all he said, a
wide grin on his face.

Oh, God, she thought, as she lowered her panties, exposing her
unshaven groin area to his unyielding stare. Remember Anna, she
thought,  remember what happened to Anna. Play-act. Oh, God, and it's
only going to get worse, much worse, Oh, God, I love you Hans. 

She stepped out of the panties, unable to look at him. Then she
realized not doing so might anger him. She looked at him. He looked
demented, depraved. He was drooling. His mouth hung down, making the
scarred bottom lip look even bigger and rougher. Play-act, she
reminded herself. Remember Anna.

Thus, with a will of iron and the hidden talents of a Sarah Burnhardt,
she said, "Do you like what you see, Oberführer?" Her mouth felt dry.
She had said it coquettishly, which surprised him, as well as herself.
She now stood at full attention before him, totaly naked, her
beautiful breasts and pussy unhidden to his eyes. She noticed that he
had his drink back in his hand, the ice clinking even as it melted. He
sipped at it.

"Oh, yes, my dear, what man wouldn't? But you disappoint me somewhat.
I had expected more of a fight out of you, more, shall we say,
revulsion at the idea of it all. But, no matter, I have many little
tricks that will test your feminine mettle. Many tricks, my dear. As
you shall discover. But for now, let's chat, shall we?" She stood
there as he walked all around her, taking an occasional sip from his
glass.

"We will chat about your feelings for the Jews later, but for now I
will ask you some questions and you will answer each with a nod or a
shake of your head. Understood?" She suspected he was about to test
her further. She nodded.

"Good. Now, do you know, Frau Von Yurt, that we are going to have sex
tonight or, as some say, fuck?" She nodded. The word fuck had forced
her to cringe.

"Good again. And you know you are going to suck my big, hairy cock,
don't you, my dear?" She shuddered and nodded. She heard him behind
her, taking a sip.

"And my old, hairy balls . . . ?" She shivered all over, but nodded
again.

"And if I tell you I want to put my prick into your tight little ass,
you will tell me to go fuck myself. Right?" She almost nodded, but
caught herself in time to shake her head from side to side. She heard
him laugh behind her. He was enjoying himself at play with his mouse.

"And if my asshole wants to feel the heat and wetness of your hot
tongue on it . . . " He let the question hang in the air. Gritting her
teeth, she nodded. Oh, God, help me, she thought, by letting me die
this very minute. But she didn't really mean the prayer because it
would mean no more Hans, no more us, no more anything. Play-act, she
now thought as she nodded agreement to doing the vile act with him. He
laughed again.

"You're too pliable, my dear, I have a feeling our little Hansy pansy
has prepared you for what is going to take place here. Don't answer.
It doesn't matter to me." He came around to her front, threw his drink
at the fireplace, where it smashed into many pieces, and dropped his
robe to the floor. 

He was naked now, too, large paunch and all. The two of them just
stood there, both naked now, facing each other in the brightly lit
room. His large, heavy, hairy balls hung down, framing his wide and
flaccid penis. The head of his penis looked huge, much larger than
Hans' more normal looking one. It frightened her just to look at it,
but it was also mesmerizing, just as a Cobra's gaze can be to its
prey.

"Come to me and put your arms around my neck and show me how well you
can kiss, my sweet little Jew lover." Play-act, she thought as she
moved toward his hulking shape. As her arms encircled his neck, she
could feel the heat of the man. It was overpowering, as was the musky
smell of his male sex. To Greta, his heat and the musk smell seemed to
permeate the room, cloying her nostrils. This was nothing like Hans'
sweet, manly odor. This was more primitive, more animalistic. It
scared her.

Greta closed her eyes and sought his scarred lips with her. On
contact, she had the urge to vomit, her stomach muscles wretching,
churning, convulsing, but managed to control herself. His lips were
rough, partly from the scarring, but also from their natural state.
They reminded her of the papery, parched-looking lips she had seen on
the gorillas at the zoo. Beasts, just like him.

She felt his large, fat tongue enter her mouth. It seemed hotter than
hot. And wetter than wet. As he pressed his lips against hers, his
tongue delved even further into her mouth, finding her own tongue and
playing with it. Kiss him back, she thought, don't anger him. Survive.
Her tongue rolled around, exploring the fat, fullness of the intruder.
He moaned and kissed her harder, running his hands over her ass cheeks
at the same time. Then his hands went up and explored all over her
back. Then back over her ass cheeks.

His kissed her for what seemed a long time. Then he kissed her neck
many times before he worked his way downward to her nervous breasts.
Finding her right nipple, he started sucking on it hard, causing her
to wince in pain. He then switched to her left nipple and did the same
thing. It felt unbelievably awful to her.

But SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp was enjoying himself. After thoroughly
suckling on her breasts to his satisfaction, he groped her ass cheeks
and then stuck a finger, then two, into her vagina. His other hand
stuck a large finger into her rectum to the first knuckle. His big
hands now had her impaled between them. He wiggled all his fingers
around for a bit as if testing for fit, and then seemed to lose
interest in the deed. He looked her in the eyes.

"On your knees, Greta, and suck my cock." He smiled at her and then
added, "And do a good job with no biting. If you bite me I will have
all of your teeth removed before turning you over to my men." He
didn't ask if she had understood. He knew she did. 

She knelt down before him, his great, hairy paunch hovering and
seeming to sway in the air above her. God, give me strength, she
prayed. Play-act flashed in her brain. Then Anna.

Greta took the fat, flaccid member into her right hand and lifted it
so it pointed toward her face, her mouth. In doing so, she couldn't
help but look at it. It seemed even fatter close up. And wider. At
least two inches in girth, perhaps even more. The flange around the
ridge stood out, all around, a full half-inch from the shaft, with the
cock head's pee hole deeply indented, as a cleft chin might be. The
whole appendage was meaty looking and felt quite heavy to her for a
human penis. Hans' was nothing like this, nothing at all like it.

Taking a deep breath, Greta moved her head forward and took the
monstrous head into her mouth. It was so incredibly wide. As she felt
her lips cross the flanged ridge, the plumpness of his cock head
filled her mouth, pressing against her tongue. She was reminded of a
salami. A thick salami. He moaned above her, placing his hands into
her hair and drawing her head even closer to him.

"Suck it, Greta, suck it good." She started a forward and back motion
with her mouth, as she had done many times to her dear Hans. As she
sucked, she felt the man's cock hardening up. Slowly at first, then
more quickly, getting fatter, the head swelling to even larger
proportions, the length of the shaft increasing. At full hardness,
which was no more than seven inches in length, Greta believed that the
wide head would certainly choke her to death. He moaned once more and
pulled her head even closer to his hairy groin.

"Take the whole thing, my dear, all of it." He said it threateningly,
as if failure in the attempt would anger him. I must avoid that, she
thought. She removed her mouth and said, simply, "Yes, Oberführer."

Greta had been able to accomodate Hans' much slimmer 7" all the way
down her throat, but this cock head now before her was unbelievably
wide. She moved down the shaft, feeling the large cock head enter her
throat's beginnings. When it hit her gag reflex, she decided to try
something one of her married girlfriend's had told her to do, make a
swallowing motion. She swallowed, as if eating a large piece of meat,
and, to her utter amazement, it worked!! The entire cock head went
down her throat with the one simple swallow until the man's pubic
hairs were touching her lips. This amazed her. He moaned somewhere
above her.

"Gott in Himmel! Ach der lieber!" he said. It had amazed him, too. "No
woman has ever taken my cock head that way before. They usually throw
up an entire meal all over me. I have often fantasized about a woman
doing what you've just done, but I never thought it would ever occur.
Now, suck me and swallow my sperm, you unbelievable deviltress, you."
He started mouth-fucking her face, the fat-flanged head plunging deep
within her throat on every third or fourth stroke.

As she sucked away on him, her saliva sputtering all around her mouth
and around his fat-headed cock, they soon got into a syncopated
rhythym. It was intoxicating to her, this sucking action, as if she
was a baby suckling at her mother's nipple. And, to her chagrin, she
found herself enjoying it. The meatiness of his cock head was doing
something strange to her lips and tongue. Something very pleasurable.

While she hated this man, hated doing this for him, she also felt the
pleasure sucking can bring. Like a pacifier, she thought. A large
headed pacifier. This both scared and tantalized her. 

As their cock-in-mouth rhythym increased, his moaning increasing along
with it, she found herself completely enraptured by it all. She hated
herself for feeling this way, but she couldn't help it. And she hated
herself for admitting that something else was going on, too. Her
vagina was moistening up. She could feel the stirrings, the familiar
wetness, as it increased. Sucking off the vile bastard was getting her
hot.

And the desire in her welled up, too. Not for the man, but for the
moment, the sex, the act, call it what you will. She tried to tell
herself it was play-acting, but she knew that was a lie. Perhaps, she
thought, I'm a wanton slut deep down and this is merely revealing it
to me. Oh, God, I hope not, for how will I ever face my Hans again?
How will I face myself again? These horrible thoughts mingled with the
pleasure her mouth was feeling and the growing wetness between her
legs. Confusion swam through her brain. 

SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp groaned, a real loud groan. He was, she knew
by the gutteral sound of it, about to ejaculate into her mouth. She
moved her mouth so just the head was engulfed, as she had many times
with Hans, and moved her mouth back and forth over the cock head
gently, waiting for his release. A moment later, he squeezed her head
with both hands, holding her fast, and spasmed his sperm into her. She
had expected him to yell as Hans usually did, but he was merely
moaning. 

His sperm entered her mouth in large globules, thick and sticky, with
the consistency of yogurt. The sheer initial volume of it amazed her.
Her mouth flooded up, forcing her to swallow. As she felt the large
sea of salty sperm go down her throat, her mouth flooded again. She
swallowed once more. 

Then, to her utter amazement, her mouth flooded again, even more so
than either time before. The amount of it caught her unaware and she
felt it splashing out around his cock and dripping down hotly onto her
naked knees. Her Hans had never been this copious, not even when he
hadn't ejaculated in a week's time. Or even longer.

"Greta, use your mouth to suck the last drops out of me. Vaccuum my
cock, my dear." She immediately complied, squeezing her lips tightly
around the cock head and drawing her lips back toward herself,
maintaining pressure. He was finally satisfied with her work.

He withdrew his cock and lifted her up to a standing position. He
reached out and removed a large glob of his sperm from her chin.
"Here, suck this off!" The finger was right in front of her mouth, the
large glob shiny white. She reached out and took the finger into her
mouth and sucked the sperm away. She swallowed just as he said, "After
such a wonderful performance, my dear, we must use our first names.
Call me Otto from now on, Greta. All right?" 

"Yes, Ober . . . Otto." Was all she could say as she stood there awash
in her mixed emotions. 

He told her they would now be wined and dined in the finest manner and
that afer dinner they would, now Greta and Otto, make love. She
nodded. He told her to get dressed. He had a phone call to make.

As he walked away from her, her eyes took in his naked back. He looked
younger from this position with that awful paunch hidden from view.
His back was very muscular and strong appearing. His buttocks were
somehow girlish looking and very tight. This side of him was, unlike
his front, handsome. And very verile looking. This surprised her.

As she saw him close the door, she tried to reason with herself, to
get some earthly perspective. She had just sucked off the vilest of
men and she should have been revulsed, repulsed. And she was, but she
also wasn't She should have been sickened now by it all. And she was,
but at the same time, she wasn't. This dichotomy worried her because
it meant that, while hating it, abhoring it, she had partially enjoyed
it. And now had to admit that horrid fact to herself. 

Perhaps, she reasoned, my brain is echoing back to the days of the
cavemen, when a man, allegedly, would grab a woman by the hair and
drag her back to his cave. Where he would, allegedly, force the woman
to do his bidding. Was all women's subconscious wired that way? To
accept her fate by enjoying it? To survive? To live through it for one
more chance at another new day? To play-act?

But where, she thought, did play end and act begin? Or was it all one
seamless illusion meant to fool her, the self-audience? She was lost
in an ocean of confusion. True, she had had her share of girlish
fantasies, but never had she pictured anything forcible. It was always
gentle in nature, both loving and romantic. The man, who always
remained faceless to her, was handsome, dashing, and sweetly loving.
Gentle, even as he ravished her in his large feather down bed. 

Tonight, on the other hand, was something completely different. It was
alien, truly strange. Frightening and titillating at the same time. It
was primitive and animal like, and yet, strangely normal, as if it fit
in with some master female plan for survival in the wild. The words
animal rutting popped into her head.

And worst of all, as she stood there now, naked and horrified, ashamed
and filled with guilt, she had to fight the overwhelming urge to place
two fingers deep into her vagina to relieve the havoc that some
unknown, unnamed demon had created within her. She felt a hot flush of
guilt rush from her neck to her head. And, she well knew, the night
had only begun. The Oberführer wasn't finished with her yet, not be a
long shot. A picture of his hairy ass opening wide to receive her
tongue flashed into her brain. She shuddered at the image.

* * * * * *

IN THE BEDROOM, SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp, was on the phone. He spoke
quickly, his authority on full display. 

"Colonel Shtetl, Stemp here. Listen carefully as I do not wish to have
to repeat myself. Understood?" It was. "Now, Shtetl, I want you to
prepare orders for one SS-Gestapo Lieutenant Hans Von Yurt for
redeployment to the Russian front. He is to leave within the next
hour. He is to be told nothing of my involvement in the matter.
Understood?" It was. 

"Good. Then, Shtetl, I want you, personally, to go to his apartment
and tell his landlord that the Von Yurt's are moving out, permanently.
Give them no other information. Then Shtetl, I want you, personally,
to enter the Von Yurt's apartment and pack up everything belonging to
Frau Von Yurt. Take nothing of her husband's. Understood?" It was. 

Colonel Shtetl had been through this many times before. His superior
was taking a wife, quite literally. And the wife in question, Shtetl
well knew,  was a knockout. Shtetl, himself, had more than once
devoured the woman's stunning figure with his eyes. He knew exactly
what to do to please the Oberführer, who now and then shared his
conquests wiith him. Shtetl now daydreamed about the lovely and
luscious Frau Greta Von Yurt.

" . . .  and bring all of her belongings, personally, to my penthouse
quarters. Use the service entrance so as not to disturb us, er, me.
Understood, Shtetl?" It was. Holy shit, thought Shtetl, he's got the
wench there with him now! I'll bet she's already naked. Oooh! Has he
put his big-headed cock into her mouth yet? Has he fucked her? 

His eyes closed as he attempted to picture, once more, Frau Greta Von
Yurt in the buff. His cock stirred, pushing against its confining
fabric. Reflexively, he reached a hand down and squeezed the bump it
had created. He knew mastubation was in the wind for him this very
night. With Frau Greta Von Yurt supplying the lewd images.

" . . . disturbed for the rest of the evening, unless it's news of an
allied surrender or of Eisenhower's untimely death. Understood,
Shtetl?"

It was.

* * * * * *

WHEN SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp re-entered the living room, Greta could
see he had changed his clothing. He now wore light gray pants, a dark
gray smoking jacket and a pale yellow ascot at his throat. Embroidered
on the breast pocket were the familiar twin SS lightning bolts, again
in yellow. And, this time, he had his feet covered in shiny, black
leather slippers. The word dashing flit shamelessly across her mind,
making her flinch. 

* * * * * * 

AFTER DINNER, he took her into his bedroom. He ordered her to strip
once more as he proceeded to do the same. Before long, they were both
naked and standing no more than two feet apart. This time, she
noticed, he had a full erection, unlike before. It stood out beneath
his paunch, looking unfamiliar and familiar to her at the same time,
the large head wobbling in space as if seeking a landing spot.

The lighting in the bedroom came from one single lamp. This made her
feel much more comfortable than she had felt in the living room with
it's harsh glaring lights seemingly everywhere. Strangely, this
thought made her blush. Girlishly, she hoped the low lighting hid this
fact from him. As if it could now matter in the least.

"Now, mein liebschen, come to me." She obeyed and soon found herself
in his strong, hairy arms. His lips found hers and their tongues
dueled sloppily. His large hands roamed her body. She could feel his
large paunch pressing into her stomach as well as the head of his
monstrous penis. He kept kissing her lips. And kissing her lips.
Without let up. This went on for a very long time, the two of them
just standing there, a mere few feet from the large king-size bed. 

Hans popped into her head. He had usually kissed her just a few times
before taking further action. At times, this remission on his part had
left her mildly frustrated. But while her loving Hans was nowhere near
the handsome, virile and dashing, faceless man of her idle girlish
fantasies, he loved her. That made up for it quite a lot.

It hadn't really bothered her, not deep down, but now she fleetingly
wondered if that wasn't because she never had anything to compare it
to. Feeling unfair to Hans, she pushed further thoughts of him out of
her mind. She needed all her wits to play-act.

SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp had left her lips and was now planting hot,
wet, sloppy kisses all over her body. Her neck was wet as well as her
breasts. Once again, she felt the familiar wetness make itself known
between her legs. His type of foreplay was getting to her, touching
something deep within her, making her tremble in want of him. 

She had a choice. Fight the feelings that threatened to swamp her or
give in to them. Fighting could lead to his displeasure of her. Giving
in, she knew, would only lead to pleasure for them both. She decided
to surrender, to survive, to escape Anna's fate.

Thus it was that she reacted very positively to all his actions. When
he kissed her now, she kissed back, with passion, with abandonment.
When he rubbed his hands over her, she allowed herself to moan and the
moaning itself had a strange, wonderful effect on her. It made her
feel less like a prisoner and more like his equal somehow. And less
guilty. Then she surprised even herself. She reached down and lovingly
squeezed his full-blown erection. She squeezed it again and slowly
stroked the shaft back and forth. I giving, she mused, my first
handjob to an SS-Oberführer!

SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp's reaction to this suddenly brand new Greta
was immediate. His kisses took on a new fire, as if lit by a brand new
match. His gropings were more sensual, more human like now. And more
tender than before. He was on fire and he let himself burn. He
fingered her vagina tenderly, as a lover, a husband might do. He
revelled in her even as he devoured her flesh piece by piece, area by
area. "Liebschen, mein liebschen." he breathed hotly into her ear.

And there was no mistaking her involvement in it all. He had made her
orgasm twice with his large fingers and she knew he knew it. She
hadn't even tried to disguise the fact from him. She had given in to
her desires completely. His manipulations, his kisses, had made her
truly hot, on fire, burning alive, and now she needed him, wanted him
if truth be told, to douse the flames with his large, over-sized penis
head. The large, over-sized penis head she now cradled in her hand and
lovingly caressed. 

"Otto, my Otto, if you don't take me this very instant I shall die."
He knew he had reached her, reached the very depths of her carnal
soul. She may have, as many others had done before, acted a part, but
he knew no one could act this well, not even Burnhardt. And he desired
her, too. Not just in the way he always wanted them, but in a
different way. A new way that was strange to him. He wanted her as any
husband would on his first honeymoon night. She was so lovely, he
thought, this Frau Greta Von Yurt. SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp felt like
one lucky man.

But, as much as he wanted to feel his large headed penis in her now
yielding body, he didn't want to rush. To rush, he well knew, would
have him shooting his seed soon after penetration. No, he wouldn't
rush. Why should he? They had, unknown to her, an eternity before
them. And, again unknown to her, her attempt at play-acting had
backfired, for SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp had no intention of ever
letting her rejoin her precious Hans. Not tomorrow, not next week, not
ever.

She was now, for all intents and purposes, the new wife of SS-
Oberführer Otto Stemp. His property and new toy. She just didn't know
it yet. A small thought entered his mind. At some point in their
relationship, he would, as he had before, start to tire of her, no
matter how hot she seemed at any one given moment. He knew he would,
as he had so many times before, have the need to spice up their waning
marital bliss. 

To this end, he knew he could count on his aide-de-camp, Colonel
Shtetl. As he had so many, many times before. He could trust Shtetl to
be discrete. Shtetl knew the penalty for displeasuring him. And Shtetl
had already, bless him, and on many an occasion, voiced a wanton
desire toward the lovely Frau Von Yurt. Oh, yes, Shtetl would be more
than eager to join him and Greta for a threesome in the king-size bed.
And Stemp would get more than excited watching Shtetl's 9" penis
enjoying Greta's mouth, ass, and vagina. The SS-Oberführer now felt
the heat within him rise even higher. His erection was at full
blossom. And was now ready for Greta.

He picked her up bodily in his massive arms and deposited her on the
bed. Her legs were spread, her pussy lips in plain view as if inviting
him in, as if saying, I'm all yours, do what you will with me, but
kiss me first. 

Although, as a general life-long rule, Stemp hated eating pussy, he
knew he wanted to taste Greta's flowing juices. The idea pleased him,
spurred him onward. He knelt between her highs and lowered his large
head toward her unshaven bush. 

As his lips touched her vaginal lips, he heard her moan. She then
grabbed his head in both hands and pushed it inward, toward her wet,
hot and mysterious cavern. He proceeded to lick her for all he was
worth, his fat tongue finding new things to do, new things to lick on.

As his large tongue penetrated to its full extent and moved upwards
and then down, Greta went wild. She gyrated her hips and squeezed his
head until it hurt him. He didn't care. He was obsessed with the task
at hand. He rolled his tongue around and around, leaving no point on
the compass feeling neglected. Simultaneously, his tongue darted in
and out, shallow fucking her, with a distinctive pressure on his
topmost licking movements.

To Greta Von Yurt, his tongue and lips felt slightly sandpapery, but
with much less chafing. The friction his mouth was creating on the
clitoris was excruciatingly pleasurable. It was driving her wild and
unleashing one orgasm after another upon her. 

This was nothing like Hans would, or could do. Unlike Hans, she felt
that Otto actually enjoyed eating her, relished doing it, in fact.
This idea added to her pleasure. Added to the intensity of her
orgasms, which now, were becoming unbearable. She had to have him
inside her. And not tomorrow, mind you, but now. She found herself
reaching for his large, muscular arms, urging his body upward and
toward her, pulling him on top of her.

"Fuck me, liebschen, fuck me now! I need to feel you inside of me!"

He knew she was his now. Fully his. "Liebschen," he said. "Are you
telling me you want my hot, German cock in her Jew loving pussy?" He
couldn't resist the Jewish reference. It pleased him.

"Yes, Otto, I want your magnificent German prick in my pussy." She was
beyond hot now, she was aflame.

"Then, my dear, you must tell me you love me. Say it!" He waited, but
he didn't have long to wait.

"Ich lieber dich, mein liebschen Otto." She had said it, but he made
her repeat herself. "Ich lieber dich, mein liebschen Otto." He was
satisfied.

As his large headed prick entered her pussy lips, he kissed her hotly
and passionately. She returned the kiss fully. Then he was deep inside
her, pushing forward, probing. The large cock head spreading her
insides in all directions. She had never felt anything like it.

His large cock head was hitting something deep inside of her, doing
strange and wonderful things to her. Oh, God, she thought, please
don't let me enjoy this, please. And yet, at the same time, she wanted
to enjoy it, to let herself succumb to the strange and wonderful
feelings, feelings that even her beloved Hans hadn't given her. 

It was the first time in her life that she could actually feel the
flanged ridge of a man's penis inside her vagina, where she could
differentiate between the head and the shaft. Otto's cock head was
driving her absolutely and utterly crazy with its over-sized width and
pronounced ridge. Out of the blue, she felt herself orgasming. And
this orgasm was unlike any she had every felt in her entire life. It
was mind-bending.

The intensity of it overwhelmed her, taking her up to the ceiling in
her mind's eye and then beyond, through the ceiling and into the sky,
and beyond, to the stars. It was incredible to her, so incredible that
she couldn't feel her body, or his body, or even the bed immediately
beneath her body. 

It was as if, all of a sudden, she and Otto were fucking in mid-air,
floating along like two fornicating feathers, who had successfully
escaped the confining pull of gravity. In mid-air, as it was, she
found herself wrapping her legs around his muscular back, forcing them
as high as they would go up on his muscular frame. 

This had the startling effect of making her feel as if he had
impossibly found a way to elongate his cock and make its enormous head
reach to the deepest depths of her vagina. His cock head, she thought,
his wonderful, magnificent cock head. Otto's cock head. My Otto's cock
head. Oh, God, I will now want him all the time, poor Hans. Forgive
me, but I cannot help myself. 

The image of his muscular back and girlish ass, the image that she had
witnessed earlier, flashed through her mind. Along with the words
handsome and dashing. Even his large paunch, so repulsive to her
earlier, now seemed wonderful and totally natural as it pressed
against her stomach. It seemed to enfold her as if to protect her from
the vagaries of the outside world.

She opened her eyes and was surprised to not see the stars in the
heaven. She heard him groan and increase his pumping tempo. He was
soon due, she knew, to deposit himself, his hot seed, deep within her.
She squeezed her legs around his back, urging him onward, her eager
hands caressing his handsome and dashing back.

A moment later, he came with a spasming of his large cock head. It
seemed to grow inside her, if that was even possible. Then she felt
it, the heat, the heat as hot as fire, burning her, scalding her, so
deep within her. Hans had never felt this way, as hot as this, not
even at his most ardent.

Otto's sperm had to be hotter than normal, she reasoned. Then, she
felt a ball of fire inside her, right where she felt Otto's enormous
cock head. He was puddling up, much as he had in her mouth. This drove
her to another orgasm, even more intense than all the others. She
closed her eyes and the stars reappeared. She heard herself yelling.
And him moaning. Then he was finished.

But, instead of simply rolling off of her and leaving her to her own
devices, he surprised her. He started showering her lips, her face,
her neck, her breasts, her belly with hot kisses. He even ran his hot
tongue one time up the crack of her vagina, causing her to shudder in
pleasure. Come what may, the man now with her, was no Hans. For which,
guiltily, Greta was glad.

And, she full well knew, this was but the first night of many nights
to come. Poor Hans, she thought, I've play-acted myself into a
quagmire. I hope our love is strong enough, my beloved Hans, to
withstand the new me. If, that is, the new me ever meets the old you
ever again. She had her doubts along those lines. 

* * * * * *

THE DAYS turned into weeks, and the weeks, as they will do, turned
into months. Three and a half months to be precise. 

During that long time, Otto had been voracious when it came to their
love making. Insatiable, even. Three or four times a day had become
their normal routine. Sometimes, five. And a few times, an incredible
six. And he had never tired of his shower of kisses during the
aftermath.

Once, in a private moment, Greta had compared her and Otto's amazing
couplings, unfairly perhaps, to the love life she had shared with
Hans. After four and a half years of marriage, their couplings had
fallen from once or twice a day, to three or four times a week. Then
it went even farther down to a now and then, when it seemed Hans
merely needed her body and not her.

But that was then and this is now. And the now was Wednesday, Otto's
favorite day for anal sex. He would be home around 3:00 p.m. and would
expect her to be ready, prepped as it were, with her anus well lubed
and ready for his use. Which, now, she was only too happy to oblige.
It hadn't always been this way, her actually looking forward to anal
sex. Especially anal sex with a cock head the size of a tennis ball to
boot. 

Oh, no, far from it. Hans knew her views on the matter. Although she
had never even tried anal, she instinctively feared it and she knew it
would hurt, in spite of what Hans would say. You don't have to drink
gasoline to know it's not good for you and that it will hurt you.

But Otto had changed her mind about the matter, on the day after their
first night together. With Otto, of course, there was no denying him,
no saying how much she thought it would hurt, no excuses. It was do it
to die. He had left that vivid impression on her even though he hadn't
even made the simplest of threats. And strangely, he had been gentle
with her.

He had showed her a tube of a cream-like substance that he said would
kill all pain to her sphincter muscle. It had been used, quite
effectively he said, on volunteer Jewish prisoners and none had ever
complained, to his knowledge.

Thus, her rectum well lubed, he had penetrated her. And he had been
right, the pain was there, but it was minimal and bearable. No worse
than a vaccination shot. And lasting just as long. Pain one minute, no
pain the next.

And, as his large-headed cock had found her innermost anal depths, she
had felt pleasure. Great pleasure. A strange pleasure, one she had
never known existed. And yet the pleasure was familiar, similar to the
pleasure she experienced when she evacuated her bowels. Only, instead
of being as fleeting as a bowel movement usually was, the pleasure
caused by Otto's being in her rectum stayed around for as long as he
did. 

It also created a super wetness in her vagina and she had found
herself using the middle knuckle of her right hand to masturbate. When
the pleasure of the fullness in her rectum combined with her first
orgasm during anal, she thought she had lost her mind. It was
tremendously powerful. She found her anus muscles spasming,
convulsing, as if chewing on his penis and devouring the large-ridged
cock head.

When her first anal spasm had hit the two of them, with her chewing
rectum working its mouth-like magic on his cock, Otto had lost all
self control and ejaculated immediately within her. And, just as his
seed had felt in her vagina, it was hot, hot, hot. Boiling hot. The
man spewed fire balls from his balls. And, in her mind of minds, she
knew she loved feeling it, this spermy heat of his.

But that was then and this was Wednesday. She heard Otto's key in the
door and, a few seconds later, heard him yell out, "Liebschen, go into
the bedroom, strip yourself naked, and lie on the bed. With both eyes
closed. I have a nice surprise for you." A surprise. Flowers? A new
mink coat? She felt girlishly foolish as she proceeded to undress. And
girlishly anticipated his surprise.

Greta got on the bed and lay down on her back, pulling her legs up and
spreading them wide, as she knew Otto loved her to do. He loved seeing
her vagina exposed in this fashion. Already she could feel the heat
increase between her legs, even as the wetness started to make itself
known. She squeezed her breasts with both hands, manipulating each
nipple with small, circular motions. She was hot and she was ready.
Hot and ready for her Otto. Her Otto and his large-headed magnificent
monster. She had her eyes closed, as he had instructed, as she heard
him enter the room. From where she lay, she could feel and smell him
already. 

"Open your eyes, my liebschen and see your gift." She opened them and,
at first, didn't comprehend it all. Otto was there all right, and
naked, but there were no flowers, no mink coat.

Standing next to Otto, and as naked as the day he was born, was
Colonel Stetl. His eyes looked demented and he seemed to be holding a
long truncheon in his hands. Greta screamed and jumped from the bed
trying valiantly to cover herself with the bed clothes. Otto barked at
her.

"PUT THAT DOWN IMMEDIATELY AND LOOK AT ME AND THE COLONEL!
NOW, GRETA, NOW!

She dropped the bedding and turned her head toward the two
totally naked men, feeling shame and humiliation overtake her. She now
saw that the truncheon wasn't a truncheon at all. It was Colonel
Shtetl's penis. It now pointed at her, long and fat and angry looking.
It was over a foot long and as thick around as Otto's penis. It scared
her, especially knowing what her Otto and the evening now had in mind
for her. She must have been staring at Stetl's monstrous thing, for
Otto said:

"Yes, liebschen, it is big, isn't it? ISN'T IT?" Greta nodded.

While Shtetl fondled his humungous cock, SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp came
up to her and took her by both shoulders. He looked directly into her
eyes.

"Now, Greta, I don't have to explain this to you, but I will. I want
to add some spice to our marriage. It's getting stale I want . . . "

"But, Otto, my liebschen, we . . . "

"SHUT UP AND LISTEN!" She shut up and listened, not liking the idea of
what she knew he was going to say.

"Now, Greta, Colonel Shtetl here is my right arm. He is married to a
frowzy little dumpling with the body of a wrestler. As my loyal right
arm, I like to reward him from time to time. You, my dear, are this
week's Shtetl reward." She started to speak, but he raised a
forefinger to his lips, shushing her. 

"You will, Greta, fuck Colonel Shtetl and suck on his baseball bat-
sized cock and you will do it with all the passion and ardor you so
generously shower on me. Do you comprehend?" Defeated, she nodded. She
heard Colonel Shtetl chuckle.

Then, SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp walked over and sat down in one of the
bedroom chairs. "Good, my liebschen. Now, let's get, as those stupid
Yankee pigs like to say, the show on the road! Listen to me, Greta,
and listen carefully. I want you to pretend, in that so convincing
play-acting fashion of yours, that my Colonel is your husband. Or me,
take your pick. 

"I want you to recall our first night together. How you first sucked
me off, swallowed my sperm, and then how we fucked afterward. Picture
it, Greta, get it all firmly in your mind. I have told the Colonel all
about it and I now want to reward him by letting him have a firsthand
experience of it all, down to the last juicy nuance. Nod if you
understand." She nodded, a slave to whatever lay ahead. 

"Splendid! Now Greta, Colonel, let the show begin." He sat back in the
chair, fondling his penis and testicles. A lewd look was on face,
coupled with a weird and very scarred smile. He was enjoying her
plight.

Greta looked at her slave master, the Oberführer Stemp. "Is it all
right, Otto, if I take a moment to remember our first night?" He
nodded.

She stood there naked in front of two naked men, one she hardly knew
at all and one she would just die just to fuck. One man stood less
than six feet from her and played with his cock. The other sat less
than six feet from her and played with his cock. She had never felt
more naked, more exposed, more vulnerable. Anna suddenly popped into
her mind. Don't end up like Anna, she thought.

She tried as best she could to remember their first night together.
The sperm-swallowing blowjob, the fucking on the very bed in this
room. Her mind raced to recover memory. My God, she thought, I've got
to kiss this almost stranger, to be passionate with him, to suck and
fuck him, and do it before Otto, my lover, and now my audience. And I
have to be totally convincing. She thought of Anna again and of the
160 barrack's boys.

Otto was tapping his foot, signalling his impatience with her. She
looked at him, a red hot flush coursing through her entire body. Play-
act flashed through her mind. Play-act and make it good. Play the
wanton slut Otto so wants me to be. Play the whore, the cunt bitch in
heat. 

Yes, she knew she could do it. All she had to do was let nature take
over her mind, her body. Let her own desires come to the fore and fuck
and suck the Colonel as he had never been sucked and fucked before.
She looked at his big erection and licked her lips, over and over,
seductively and slowly, making sure the two men noticed that she was
ready to perform.

And perform she would. Even more than they had bargained for. With
this thought in her mind, she started to finger her vagina and, at the
same time, squeeze a breast, toying with the nipple. All the while
still rolling her tongue around her mouth. She heard the Colonel moan,
then speak.

"Gott in Himmel, mein Oberführer, she is even more beautiful than even
the wildest of my imaginings have ever been. Thank you, mein
Oberführer, thank you, thank you. I am forever in your debt." Stemp
nodded twice.

Greta now walked up to the Colonel and put both arms around his neck,
feeling the baseball bat cock touch and poke her belly. The man looked
dazed and unsure of himself. Greta would have to take the lead. 

She kissed him, full on the lips, her tongue seeking his. The Colonel
sighed into her mouth even as he returned the kiss. And she didn't
just kiss him, she devoured his mouth, passionately and with all the
ardor a human can muster up. All the while, she ground her stomach and
her groin into his hard penis.

SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp urged her on. "Good, my liebschen, very good.
Wonderful, in fact." He seemed to be breathing laboriously.

Greta kissed Shtetl for what seemed a long time. Perhaps she was now
reliving that fateful night, perhaps not. Perhaps she was play-acting,
perhaps not. She was, to her way of thinking, somewhere in between it
all.

Finally, she broke the kiss and knelt before the man, his large member
bumping her cheek. God, she thought, he is big! Will I be able to
swallow him as I did Otto? Swallow was the key word, she remembered. 

But now, determined to play the whore and put on a good show, she
added a wrinkle to the act. If Otto, she thought, wants a show, I'll
give him one he'll never forget! With that she pushed her head into
Shtetl's groin area and proceeded to suck on his hairy, large-sized
testicles. Shtetl immediately moaned and his legs started to shake.
She heard Otto gasp. Then he spoke, a hoarseness to his voice Greta
had never heard before.

"Ach du leiber, Greta, you are full of tricks now, aren't you?" She
nodded her head, one of Shtetl's balls fully in her mouth, and
mumbled, "Hmm hmm." Shtetl moaned again and his legs continued to
shake even though he now had both hands on her head as if to steady
himself.

Greta worked his balls until both were sloppy wet. As she laved them
she placed both hands on his ass cheeks and drew him toward her. She
knew Otto would like that.

She then used both lips and mouth to wet up his large cock shaft. She
went down one side and up the other, leaving a trail of saliva to mark
her travellings. When Shtetl moaned once more, it seemed to act as a
trigger on Greta's vagina. The wetness was now beginning there as she
gave herself up to the lewd act. She now moaned as she continued to
lave his shaft and cock head all around. 

As she now held his stiffened penis in her hand, she noticed that it
had a slight upward tilt to it. For whatever reason, this had an
electrifying effect on her. It was the first penis she had ever seen
bent that way. As she touched it now, she felt her vagina moisten up.

Finally, and Shtetl seemed glad of it, she took his penis head into
her hot mouth. The head was huge, though not any wider than Otto's,
but it was longer and went farther down his shaft. Feeling it in her
mouth now, Greta estimated it to be at least half and inch longer than
Otto's. But the flange, unlike Otto's, more closely hugged its shaft.
She proceeded to go up and down on the massive piece of meat.
Throating it fully was next on the agenda.

Swallow the meat flashed through her mind and swallow the meat she
did. And, just as with Otto that first time, the cock disappeared down
her throat without bothering her reflex gag in the least. When her
lips finally touched the Colonel's pubic base and her nose bumped his
lower abdomen, he let out a yowl. "Oooooooooooh, mein Gott, I can't
believe it!"

She worked his cock as she had Otto's that first night, but twice as
passionatelly. The effect on the Colonel was amazing. He kept yelling
and moaning, moaning and yelling. Then, at some point, he grabbed her
head fast and started to mouth fuck, slowly and sensually, in and out.


She knew he was getting close. She also knew her thumb, which now
touched the bottom of his cock base, would warn her when the sperm
started its trip to her mouth. She worked him a while more, and then
she felt it, the first ripple under her thumb. She was all the way
down on him at the moment.

She knew she could stay where she was and just let his sperm enter her
belly, untasted by her, but she sensed this wouldn't go over too well
with Otto. Thus, she scooted her mouth up to the middle of his cock
head and sucked away at it, her tongue pressing firmly against the
underside. A second later, she felt the first of his acidic and salty
ejaculate. 

Unlike Otto, but similar to her Hans, the Colonel was a spurter. The
first spurt hit the back of her throat and she felt some of it makes
its way downward toward her belly. More such spurts soon followed, the
cock head swelling up just before each one. Why, she didn't know, but
she used her thumb to count the spurts. Nine in all and all very
copious in volume. 

She swallowed them all, all nine spurts, without even spilling one
small drop. She knew she was getting good at this part of the game.
After swallowing the last violent spurt, she worked her mouth vacuum-
like on the large cock head, milking it for every last possible drop.
Shtetl was gently massaging the back of her neck, still groaning. What
Otto was doing, besides looking, she didn't know, and, if truth be
told, she didn't care, either.

She stood up and continued the show. She put her arms again around the
Colonel's neck and kissed him again. And thought some.

She knew that she had just given the Colonel the best blowjob he'd
ever had and had pleased him in a way no woman ever had. She hoped she
had pleased Otto, too. And, in doing to Shtetl what she had just done
and knowing she had an audience, she had enjoyed it herself. Her very
wet pussy told her that much. Now she was hot, too. And wanted Shtetl
to fuck her. In her pussy, in her ass, anyway he wanted to. Nature was
in command of her.

A perverse thought flashed through her hot mind as she felt Shtetl's
hot tongue working against her own. Fucking both men at the same time.
Fucking one while sucking off the other. Oh, yes, that would be
especially vunderbar, to feel Otto's oversized head in her hot,
sucking mouth while, simultaneously, feeling the hugeness of the
Colonel's baseball bat deep within her vagina. 

Oh, yes, and to feel them both spurt in unison, Otto in her mouth, the
Colonel in her pussy. The thought of it, the imaginings of it, the
heat of the idea was making her lose reality. 

She now kissed Shtetl for real, way beyond the play-act stage. A slut,
she knew, had been born. A slut her beloved Hans, wherever he was,
wouldn't know, recognize, or even like any more. Her Hans, she knew,
was lost to her forever, one way or the other, gone, poof, no more. 

Whatever they had, and however good it had seemed, was now only a dim
memory of a life she cared less and less about with each passing hour.
Otto spoke from his chair. She broke the kiss and looked in his
direction. Otto's sperm was all over the carpet in front of his feet,
the many white globules puddling up on the dark blue nap's surface.

Otto's face looked red. "That was absolutely amazing, my dear Greta.
You've outdone yourself and made me very happy in the bargain. Now,
what say we have something to eat and drink, you two hot lovers, and
later we can resume our little game." They both said yes in unison.

* * * * * *

GRETA had her wish fulfilled that night. They both fucked her at the
same time and both came, almost together, the SS-Oberführer beating
the Colonel to the punch by mere seconds. 

Greta had come so many times it was impossible to keep track of. And
the Colonel had proved a good lover, a good fuck a man who knew how to
use his large specimen to the woman's advantage. He was slower in his
love making than Otto, slower even than Hans. This man took his time,
the world be damned. Oh, yes, she had enjoy Colonel Shtetl. 

Prior to this, there had been only one event that had made her feel
quite ill. Wretchedly ill, as a matter of fact.

The men had consumed more than a few beers with dinner and when they
were all three in the bedroom, again naked, Otto had announced he was
going to introduce a new game into the equation. He ordered Greta to
get on her knees in front of them both. She complied, not knowing what
to expect.

"Now, Greta, you are going to get a new treat. I have to piss, as I'm
sure the Colonel does. Your mouth, my sweet, is going to serve as our
human urinal!" He laughed. Shtetl did, too. Greta felt immediately
sick. She wanted to protest, to say something, but nothing came out of
her mouth.

Otto swayed a bit and said, "Open wide, liebschen, and take some sweet
pissy piss!" He sounded slightly drunk. Shtetl said, "Ooh, I have to
go real bad! May I go first, mein Commandant?" Otto waved a hand at
Greta as if saying, be my guest, old chum.

Shtetl took a step toward Greta and offered his totally flaccid penis
to her face. Knowing she was trapped, she leaned in and took his soft
penis into her mouth. And merely waited. Then Otto said, "And DON'T
SPILL A DROP, GRETA! SWALLOW, SWALLOW, SWALLOW,
IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOUR LITTLE PISS MOUTH!

A moment later, Shtetl let loose. In a deluge. His urine flooded her
mouth so quickly, she almost failed to swallow. But she caught it just
in time. She swallowed again and the scenario repeated itself. Then
again and again. And some more. He was pissing like a race horse.
Greta felt as if she had swallowed at least a large glassful. Finally,
he stopped and just let his dick soak in the mouth. He left it there a
moment before quickly pulling it out. For the first time, Greta could
now taste the man's piss. 

It tasted awful, truly pissy like, but it was bearable. She knew it
wouldn't kill her. Otto next stepped up to the plate. As she swallowed
his ugly tasting urine, as copious as shtetl's had been, he kept
calling her his little piss mouth, to the great glee of the Colonel. 

The only kindness Otto had sent her way was allowing her some wine to
wash the piss down. It had helped immensely. The wine taste had
quickly replaced the piss taste. They had then proceeded to fuck her.

Later, after Shtetl had gone home, Greta was told by Otto that this
was to be a once a week affair with his Colonel and, if Otto chose,
other senior officers he deemed worthy of his special reward. 

His officer roster, Greta knew, consisted of twelve men, from aged
twenty-two through aged fifty-five. Resigned to it all, as resigned to
something as a person can get, Greta knew she would fuck and suck them
to lascivious perfection, pleasing Otto along the way.  While, she
also knew, pleasing herself as well. 

Her life now consisted of sex, shopping, sex, getting her hair and
nails done. sex, buying a new dress, sex, and more sex. She was known
to all the men as SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp's wife, a slut wife to be
sure, but they all treated her with great respect. That this respect
was from fear of her powerful "husband" didn't matter to her. She had
survived. 

And, Otto's use of the word "officer" had put her mind at rest when it
came to the 160 barrack's boys. There would be no barrack's boys for
her. She would fuck and suck quite a few of Otto's officers, for sure,
but she would not end up as Anna had, in a nut house and staring into
space all day, too out of it to even know her own name.

Greta was grateful to Otto for something else. He had kept the kinky
stuff, the piss swallowing, the ass licking, from the officers. He
resereved that for himself and Colonel Shtetl. The officers were
limited to straight sucking and fucking, with even anal sex denied
them.

She was now, as SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp had so clearly told her, his
sex slave, his whore, his slut, his piss mouth, and a property of the
Third Reich. His bidding was all she needed to live for. There would
be no more articles written by a Jew loving traitor, now or ever
again. Sex slaves, he told her in no uncertain terms, had no time for
such nonsense. She had agreed quickly, which had pleased him.

* * * * * *

A YEAR HAD PASSED and, during that time, Greta had serviced nine of
the SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp's officers. And, to satisfy Otto's
seemingly endless search for hotter and hotter scenarios, had sucked
and fucked all nine of them, one after another, on more than one
occasion. With Otto watching her perform with each man as he took his
turn. 

She was only thankful that those events were somewhat infrequent as
she usually felt so totally tired and drained, it took all her energy
just to speak, let alone walk. 

She now had, in one sense, a gallery of German men, some handsome,
some not, who made her come and come quite often. However, none of the
officers made her come better than Shtetl with his large penis. The
only man capable of surpassing the Colonel was Otto himself. No one
could compete with that over-sized cock head that she could feel
outlined in the pit of her vagina. 

On a scale of one to ten, ten being best, the officers ranged from a
three to a seven, Shtetl rated a solid nine, while her Otto was
somewhere around eighty four. And sometimes it felt even higher. The
officers gave her the sky, Shtetl, the moon, but Otto gave her the
stars and the all of the heavens.

It was now Thursday, December 25th, 1944. Christmas Day in Berlin as
elsewhere in the world. Otto had phoned to alert her to a little
Christmas "gift" he was bringing home for her, a new gift, one she had
not seen before, one SS-Scharfuhrer Emil Vurden, aged twenty-nine,
married with four children. Highly decorated in combat. 6' 2" tall,
190 lbs, blonde hair and blue eyes. Facts she had gleaned from peeking
at his personnel records. He sounded to her like the stereotypical
German male. And, somehow, she knew he would be handsome and dashing.
And well hung in the penis department. Greta now sat in their living
room, waiting. The anticipation flowing over her. The front doorbell
rang. Had Otto misplaced his keys again? She headed toward the door
and opened it wide when she reached it. A regular army soldier stood
there at rigid attention, a large satchel attache gripped firmly
between both hands.

"Frau Von Yurt?" He looked as stiff as a statue.

"Yes, how may I help you?" She felt a tremor of worry flit through her
mind.

He opened the satchel case and pulled out a thick manila envelope and
offered it to her. "I have been instructed to hand this to you, Frau
Von Yurt and await here for further instruction from you." As she took
the envelope, he raised his heels and clicked them together. "I'll be
right here, Frau Von Yurt, when you need me." She thanked him and
closed the door.

With trembling fingers, she opened the envelope. A quick glance told
her it contained a large, fat envelope and three letters, one
unfolded, the other two folded in thirds. It looked to her as if the
unfolded letter was to be looked at first, so she removed it and read.
Her fears had been realized. She knew this without even reading the
letter. It had been typed on the SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp's personal
stationery and it read:

My liebschen Greta, my PM, if you are reading this it means that I am
no longer among the living. I wish I could say now that I loved you,
my liebschen, but I have never in my life felt that foolish emotion.
However, please believe me from the depths of my soul, when I say I
have grown beyond fond of you. That, my little dumpling, is as close
to love as I can attain without feeling foolish.

But you, my dear, are still young and have much life before you. With
that in mind, you will find enclosed some provisions I have made for
both your future security and your immediate safety. I have written
you out an unlimited travel pass which will allow you to cross the
border and leave Berlin. You will also find an envelope containing
50,000 american dollars. This should see you through for quite some
time, at least long enough to establish yourself wherever you finally
end up.

The soldier who delivered this is at your beck and call. He will take
you to the border and see to it that you don't run into any problems. 

But use haste, my sweet, for Germany is losing the war and if those
blood-thirsty Russians come storming into Berlin, there is no telling
what they will do to a lovely fräulein such as yourself. To further
inspire you to use haste, I will tell you this: The revenge-seeking
Russians will make the barrack's boys look like saints by comparison.
So, hurry my love, hurry. And God go with you.

Forever yours,

Your Otto, my little PM!

His PM? she thought. It took her a bit before she got it. His piss
mouth. How endearing of him, she mused.

Greta wanted to cry, but couldn't. She didn't have it in her no matter
how "fondly" she now felt for her Otto. She took out and opened one of
the folded letters. The travel pass, just as Otto had promised. She
reached in and extracted the other folded letter. She opened it and
read, tears immediately welling up in both eyes. It was on war
deparment stationery.

The first two lines were unimportant. It was the third line that was
responsible for her tears.

With deep regret, we hereby report the death, in wartime action, of
Lieutenant Hans Von Yurt, Commander 2nd Division, 4th Battalion, 1st
regiment, Russian front, XY223174D. There was more, his heroism in
battle, his dedication, etc. but she couldn't care about that, Hans
was gone and that was that. She let her tears flow unstopped, her body
convulsing uncontrollably.

Then reality crept in. Make haste, Otto had said. She quickly packed a
suitcase, changed her clothes to something demure for travelling, and
went and opened the front door. The young statue soldier was still
there, as rigid as ever, waiting for her instructions. She told him to
take her to the border immediately. He clicked his heels and said yes
Frau Von Yurt. Thus, with nothing more than that, she was off to a new
life.

They had driven in total silence for nearly ten minutes when a thought
popped into her head. She tapped the driver's shoulder and said, "Do
you know that my husband, SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp is dead?"

"Yes, Frau Von Yurt. I had to know that in order to follow my previous
instructions." He sounded nervous in her company.

"Do you know how it happened?" She had to know, but didn't know why.
Perhaps it would mean something to her in the long run.

"The SS-Oberführer was on a routine inspection of the barracks,  Frau
Von Yurt, when the allies carpet bombed it. He was killed along with
160 fine German soldiers." She thought, the barrack's boys! Poof!

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Joseph Fritz, Frau Von Yurt. Sergeant Fritz, Frau Von Yurt."

"Well, Joseph, I want to ask you a question and I expect total honesty
from you." She was about to use an Otto tactic. "If you lie to me,
Sergeant Fritz, I will know it and you will have your next chat with
Colonel Stetl. Understand me?" He only nodded his yes, too afraid to
even speak.

"Good. Now, here's the question, Joseph. Have you ever heard the
sexual rumors when it comes to me and the SS-Oberführer, about how we
have orgies with his officers and all. Be honest or it will cost you
dearly, young man!" She liked this game of power playing. It seemed to
suit her.

He paused before answering, surely thinking, and finally nodded. He'd
heard. Who hadn't? Greta thought.

"Good! That means we have no secrets about the matter, now do we?" He
shook his head from side to side, not knowing what else to do. His
mouth was so dry, he was glad she was accepting his nods and head
shakes for answers.

"Now, my little Fritzie, I want you to be a clever boy and find us a
nice and quiet and very secluded little spot where I can show you the
truth to all the rumors. Are you game for something new?" He nodded
again, this time a little faster.

"Good. I promise it will be great fun, liebschen. Just you wait and
see." She felt the old wetness beginning to form in her crotch. I am a
totally depraved slut, she thought, and I don't give a rat's ass.

Less than five minutes later, Sergeant Fritz pulled into a shady glen,
a place surrounded by large trees and a mile off the main road. The
only sound either of them could hear was the sound of crickets
chirping, seeking love from one another, their message rhythymical and
unmistakable to other crickets.

Greta left the car and Fritz followed suit. They now stood less than
three feet apart. Perspiration had formed on his upper lip and across
his forehead. He looked even younger than she had first remembered.

Boldly, she said, "Take off all your clothes, lover, and show me what
you have for me. I love surprises!" God, I'm absolutely wanton, she
thought. He started to strip. She started to do likewise. 

In minutes, they were both in the middle of the glen, naked and
natural. His "natural" was about 7" long, thickish and even now was
fully erect and pointing skyward, a large drop of his pre-juices
slickly coating his larger-than-normal cock head. His balls looked
full and oversized. A seam ran down the middle, which reminded Greta
of a walnut. A large walnut.

Greta knelt down and licked the large drop away. He moaned at the
touch, his legs trembling fiercely. He licked his dry lips.

"Now," Greta said, looking up at him. "I am going to show you
everything I have ever done with the SS-Oberführer and with all of his
officers." She stood up, put both arms around his neck and looked him
directly in the eyes. She was smiling at him. At his youngness and
naivety.

"It always starts, my liebschen," she whispered hoarsely, "with a very
long and passionate, wifely kiss . . . "

THE END