Ingrid could feel the cold, tight metal cuffs cutting into her wrists, and she wished that she could lower her feet to the floor, just to take some of the pressure off of her hands. Already, she could feel the flesh throbbing. She had no idea how long she had been there, but when she had awakened, she had found herself in this horrid place.
Her breasts had been pierced with spikes, and although they were small, they had cut into her flesh enough to hurt. Small wires were connected to them, and they, in turn, led down to a metal plate that was covering her cunt.
Ingrid could see that someone had shaved her hair down there, because even though the metal plate was big, and cutting into her aching red lips, it was not big enough to cover the area where her pubic patch usually was.
She was somehow able to pull her hands closer to her head, and managed to run her fingers through her fine red hair. In some ways, she could figure out how long she had been there, just by the feeling of her hair.
She could remember having washed it some time ago, and now, although it still had its usual bounce, she could feel that it was dirty, and in need of another washing. That could have meant it was anywhere from two to five days after she had last washed it.
Suddenly, she heard a noise. It sounded like someone approaching, but the footsteps seemed awkward, as if the person was walking with a crutch or something like that.
Her breasts heaved in trembling anticipation, and she screamed as she saw him, for the spikes were cutting deeper into her flesh, and he was so hideous . . .
CHAPTER ONE
She kept her eyes closed tight, trying to imagine that this was just a nightmare.
Recently, she had been having terrible dreams, and yet, none of them compared with the horror she had seen before her eyes, for only a second.
It seemed like a man, or what remained of a man, but she wasn't quite sure.
At least, she kept telling herself, there is no threat of death, the way that there usually is in my nightmares. At least not yet.
Jngrid had learned from a notable psychiatrist, that many people dreamed of their deaths, but the dream never went all the way to the final breath. Were it to do so, the man had told her, the person would die in her sleep.
"But your dreams seem to have certain meanings," he said to her. "Tell me just a little bit about your parents."
"Why would you want to know about them?" she'd asked.
"Ah, you must know how important parents are in the psychological make-up of the child. You must have some idea."
And she had, but she was just too scared to tell him.
She opened her eyes again, for only a minute, and the man was no longer there. However, the spiked pins, cutting into her breasts, still were, and the metal plate, still was there, too. She couldn't stand the feel of it.
She tried to touch her toes back on the ground, looking down, for only a second. The floor was an old cobblestone one, and she assumed that it was going to be quite cold to the touch. Still, she desired that coldness.
If, for no other reason, it would take some of the pressure off her wrists, which were beginning to ache. She could see the way some of the skin was cut away there, and started to think that a gross infection could be forming there, if something was not done to soon ease the pressure.
"Please help me," she screamed out, and was about to do so again, when she heard those footsteps coming close to her again.
All of a sudden, she was sorry she had screamed.
For some reason, it seemed better to be hanging there than to have to look at the man-thing again. She hoped the footsteps would stop, before they came too close, then hoped that she wouldn't get sick, if she saw it once again.
He was there, before her eyes, smiling at her. She couldn't see all of him, but what she saw was enough to make her sick.
He reached out to touch her leg, and she could feel the spike at the end of the stump hurting her. He started to dig it into her knee, then, moved his hand up higher so he could touch the metal plate.
He pressed it against her flesh, and she felt it cutting into her cunt even deeper.
"Stop that, please," she begged him.
"I repulse you, don't I?" he asked. "Weil, I don't care, because by the time I'm through with you, maybe you'll love me, because no other man will have you."
"What do you mean? What are you talking about? Why am I here?"
"So many questions," the man said, and she could hear some kind of Germanic accent in his voice. It was an accent she knew well enough. "But do you really expect me to answer them for you? Do you really expect that?"
He pulled the spike away, and turned his back on her, then started to leave.
But before he was out of the room, he turned back to her.
"They say that children don't have to pay for the sins of their parents, but in this case, they may be wrong."
And then, he was gone. She heard the footsteps disappearing, and then, she could feel a faint breeze blowing over her naked, red nipples.
Pay for the sins of my parents, she kept thinking. What could he mean by that?
She closed her eyes, and thought about the doctor, and how he had been so interested in her parents, too. When he had started to ask her all about it, she had decided to leave, and go see another psychiatrist.
But all of them had asked her the same kinds of questions, and she just didn't want to get into them. She just didn't want to answer.
Suddenly, she saw an image.
Her mother was bound, naked on the bed, looking much the way Ingrid looked now, for it had happened years ago, and the woman had been much younger.
Her red hair was strewn all over the pillow, and she had a look of fear in her eyes.
"You bitch," her father had screamed out, and before young Ingrid had even seen the man, through the partially open door, she had heard the loud cracking sound of the whip, and had seen it strike at her mother.
It had hit the bound woman right between the legs, the tip of it just flicking out against her spread cunt lips, almost as if the whip wanted to enter her. The whip had lashed out again, and again, and those next two times, it had hit her mother's two red nipples, almost slicing through them.
Ingrid had wanted to scream as she saw a slow trickle of blood on her mother's breast, but she knew better than to open her mouth.
He father had never been the kind, understanding man, like most of the other fathers she had seen all her other friends had.
He had always been cold, and brutal, and harsh.
There had been many times when she did wrong, and he would pull her across his knee and give her an old-fashioned spanking. The only thing was, he used a paddle, and it hurt much more than his hand would have.
It was not until she was old enough to know it, that she could feel his cock getting hard in his pants, each time he hit her.
It was hard that day with her mother, for she had seen him approaching the woman then, and she had moved to one side of the partially open door, just so he wouldn't be able to see her looking in, just in case he should even look that way.
She had noticed that he was wearing black leather boots. Also, he had a red swastika band around his arm, and wore the hat from the German Army.
He carried the thick leather whip in his hand, and smashed it against the floor every so often, each time, causing her mother to gasp.
Then, Ingrid had seen it, hard for the first time.
She had seen it many times before, for her father seemed very open about his naked body. Perhaps, it was because of what he would do to her when she was old enough, but she could remember seeing him walking naked in the halls, many times, on his way to the bathroom so he could relieve himself. And sometimes, she would even see that, for he would never close the door as he stood there urinating.
But that night, she was seven, and her mother was tied, and it was no longer hanging limp between his legs. It was stiff, and thick, and sticking straight out, looking like the kind of club that policemen carried on their sides.
She had always felt those clubs were so ominous, for once, she had passed a group of rioting people, and she had seen the policemen charging into the group, with their clubs flying back and forth in the air, striking anyone in their path.
Her father's club had been used for ominous work that night, as she recalled.
He had moved it to her mother's mouth, and she had seen the way her mother stuck her tongue out to try and lick it. But each time she did, her father would pull back, just far enough away so that she couldn't touch it.
He would whip her on the belly then.
"Stretch your tongue, you bitch," he was yelling at her.
Ingrid had wanted to scream out that it was impossible for anyone to stretch their tongue so far. She wanted to scream and tell him that he was torturing her by making her try to do something that was impossible.
But fear caused her to keep her lips sealed.
Finally, her mother's tongue did touch it, and she heard her father let out a moan.
"Yah, that is good, pig," he said to her mother, and within seconds, he was on the bed, sitting on her pained breasts, ramming it in and out of her mouth.
She had seen horror in her mother's eyes that night, and had heard the way the woman was gagging, for each time her father thrust in, so that the entire club disappeared into her mother's mouth, he held himself there for a few seconds, until her mother would gag and tears would be streaming from her eyes.
The thing looked like it was pulsating after a few minutes, and when her father pulled it out of her mother's mouth, he started to jerk it. It was coated with her mother's saliva then, she could tell, for it was dripping with wetness.
Then, the stuff started to shoot out of the end. Her mother tried to shut her mouth, but her father smashed his open hand across her face, and screamed at her for doing so. One more hard slap, and the woman kept her mouth open.
There seemed to be so much of the cream, and it scared Ingrid.
She was to see many scenes like that one in her younger life, and it was not until she was fifteen, that she was to experience something similar.
One morning, she woke up, and she tried to rub her eyes. She couldn't, because she felt something pulling at her wrists.
When she looked up, she could see that her wrists were bound together, and then tied to the headboard of her bed.
She was naked, which was not the way she had gone to sleep the night before. She remembered having put on a gown, because even though she sometimes slept naked, that was only during the summer, when it was warm, and this was the dead of winter, where the nights would be very cold.
"Ach, you are up," she heard his voice say, and then, she had felt the hard cracking of the whip against her naked flesh.
In the next instant, she had heard a scream, and she looked over to see her mother hanging from the beam that ran across the ceiling. Her wrists had been bound, too, and then the rope had been pulled through the beam.
"Shut up," the voice had screamed, and she heard the swooshing sound of the whip.
Then, she heard the cracking sound it made when it hit flesh, but it had not hit her flesh that time. Her father had turned on her mother, for screaming out.
"Please," her mother had started to beg, "do not hurt the child. She is just a child, Horst. Just a little girl."
"She has hair here, like a woman," he said, and he tugged at Ingrid's pubic patch. "And she has the breasts of a woman."
When he said that, he whipped each one of her breasts, hitting her directly on the nipple. She could recall seeing him do that to her mother so many times.
"She is a woman, and not a child," he insisted. "And because of that, I, as her father, am going to make sure that no man takes her before me."
Her vision had been blurry since she'd just gotten up, but it was beginning to clear up, and she could see him in those boots, and that hat, wearing that red swastika band on his arm again.
She had looked at his hairless chest, then let her eyes wander down to his cock. There was a thick patch of hair surrounding it, all golden blond, like the hair on his head, and the thing was stiff, like a club again.
He walked closer to her, and she could see the way it bobbed up and down.
"You want to please your father, do you not?" he screamed at her.
She wanted to tell him no, for she knew what pleasing him involved and wanted no part of it, and yet, her lips would not move. Her lower lip trembled, but the speech would not come out, to tell him to drop dead and leave her alone.
"You see," he said, looking up at the dangling form of her mother. "No answer is as good as a yes to me."
And he moved it toward her lips, and when she tried to turn her head away, she felt him pulling at her nipple with his fingers. He had grasped it hard, and was tugging at it with such force, that she felt like he was going to pull it right off.
"Turn your head back, and satisfy your father," he screamed at her.
And she had to. She wanted the pain to stop in her nipple.
The second she turned her head, she felt him ram it between her lips, and it was not until then that she realized just how huge he was. She had only seen him frpm the distance, many times in that hard club-like state, but she hadn't realized how thick it was until her jaw was being wrenched open by the force of it.
He rammed himself deep in her throat, and she could feel herself gagging. She thought that she would surely die by the time he was finished with her.
But he did not pull out, and the cream did not shoot like she had seen it happen so many times on her mother.
Instead, she watched him climb on the bed between her legs.
She could see the way he was directing it toward the slit there, and she sensed that he was going to force it into her.
It was not until she tried to close her legs tight, that she realized he had bound her at the ankles, too, for only then did she feel the rope cutting into her flesh down there, and only then did she realize there was no way out.
"You did not get it wet enough," he said to her, and he spit on his hand and then moved it down to the thick club. He wiped his spit all over it, and she could see the way it looked, all wet, red and shiny.
She could not see it for long, because he slammed it into her.
At the same time that she felt the ripping pain inside of her body, and screamed with horror, she thought that she heard her mother scream, "My baby."
She was never sure, for her own screams did not stop.
He was moving it in and out of her at a fast rate, and it had started with pain and seemed destined to end with pain.
Later in life, she was to learn from her friend, that it always hurt the first time, but that the pain could stop if the man rested once he was in, and allowed the woman time to get over it.
Her father hadn't rested at all. Instead, he kept moving it in and out, and she could feel the aching on her inner walls. She tried to raise her head to look at him, but he pressed his hand down on her throat, and forced her head back on the pillow.
Then, she felt something happening that made him seem thicker. He was going through a series of pulsations, and each time it happened, he was stretching her more, and causing her to groan louder and louder. She thought that she would never live to see the next minute.
But he pulled out of her, and it was not until he did that he took his hand away from her neck. She could see him jerking the thing fast, like he usually did when he pulled out of her mother, and then, he was shooting the white stuff all over her belly and the tangled wet patch of red cunt hairs at its base. She saw something else, then, that made her want to vomit.
His cock was blood red. It had looked red when he first spit on it, she recalled, but the color was an even deeper red then. It turned out to be her blood, from her ripped hymen, which had coated his shaft as he abused her.
When the white stuff landed on her belly, she could feel how warm it was, but she still felt sick. She started to scream, and he pulled the whip back and lashed it out at her ten times in a row, hitting both of her breasts and her belly, and leaving marks on her flesh that did not disappear for days.
Once he was finished, he smiled at her.
"Now I know that I have had you first, and no matter what boy takes you after that, you will always be your father's child."
She had worked up saliva in her mouth, and didn't know if she had the nerve to spit it into his face. She wanted to, desperately, but she was too scared, and felt too vulnerable. Were she to do it, he could have killed her, too. He stood up then, before she had time to make a decision, and he pulled a ladder close to where her mother was hanging.
She watched him take the knife from off the dresser top, and he cut the cord that was attached to the older woman's wrists. Her body fell to the floor with a thud, and she groaned in pain.
Then, Ingrid saw her father cut her mother's bonds, and walk out of the room, but not before she had been given the command to, "Clean her up."
Ingrid was in pain as her mother cut the bonds that kept her wrists and ankles tied, and in a greater pain when the woman took a warm, wet wash cloth, and started to wipe the come off her belly, and then out of her cunt.
She could see that her mother had filled a pan with water, and was dabbing out the blood from her cunt, then cleaning it off in the pan, then dabbing out more blood, until the water in the pan was no longer clear, but red.
She was sick for the next few days, and even though her fever was high, her mother would not call the doctor. Instead, she would sit by Ingrid's bed, and place cold cloths on top of her head to bring the fever down.
Eventually, it broke, but while she was ill, she could vaguely remember conversations with her mother about what had happened.
"Why?" was the one question that Ingrid kept asking the woman. "Why does he do things like that."
"You see, he is a very sick man," her mother had told her. "He has been that way for the longest time. Since the end of the war."
"Tell me more, mother," she said to the woman. "Please."
"Your father and I were young, and just married, when the war broke out in Germany. He did not want to join, but he had to. We were separated for,, a time, and when he came back, he was a different man."
"In what way?"
"For one thing, he was a man. He had left me, a boy, and he returned, a man. He seemed to have changed, for the worse. His eyes always looked blazed with a fury, and his temper was short. He told me stories of things that he had seen while fighting, and he told me other, more horrid stories."
"Tell me. I want to know what they were. Please, tell me."
"No. I must spare you that pain. You are in a great enough pain as it is."
"Tell me," Ingrid had said then, with fierce determination which startled her mother. "I have suffered from him, and I think that I deserve to know just what he saw, which made him this way. I deserve to know it."
"He worked in camps where they were doing experiments on the Jewish prisoners, and he was forced to carry out some of the experiments. He said that he was forced, but I do believe there reached a point where he relished the idea of it. I swear, I believe that. For now, he carries out tortures."
"But what did he do there?"
"Amputations, and castrations, and...oh my child, I just cannot talk about it any longer. I just cannot talk about it."
Four years later, when she was twenty, her mother slit her father's throat open while he was sleeping, and was sent to an institution, where she still was. The first time Ingrid saw her there, the woman looked crazed.
"I had to do it, Ingrid-, " she said. "I had to do it. He was an evil man, and his evil was getting worse. I could not bear the tortures he put me through any longer, so I had to end them for good. Forgive me."
Of course, she had, and deep down, she had wished that her mother would have killed that bastard before he had ever had a chance to lay a hand on her.
But that was all the past.
For the next few years, she underwent much therapy herself, for when it came to sexual relations with men, she just could not function right. The mere touch from a man would make her skin crawl, and her whole body would feel tense.
The last thing she could remember, before she woke up to find herself bound, once again, was being at a party. She had gone with a girl friend, and she had had too much to drink. She remembered climbing up the stairs and falling alseep on a bed, happy that she wasn't going through a case of the drunken spins.
And then she woke up, and found herself bound.
She saw the evil looking man, and had felt sick. She knew that she was no longer in the same house where the party had been.
She felt, almost as if she was in some kind of torture dungeon.
Suddenly, it all seemed to be coming together, in her mind. She thought that there were certain pieces to be fitted together, like a puzzle.
There was the man, and he had said something to her.
"They say that children don't have to pay for the sins of their parents, but in this case, they may be wrong."
She knew about her father's sins, while he had been a soldier for the German Army. She knew about the things that he had been forced to carry out, which had turned him into some kind of crazy man.
And she could remember her mother talking about amputations and . . .
She started to scream out, at the top of her lungs, emitting a long, wailing sound. She didn't want to think such horrid thoughts, but she could not help herself. The man she had seen, had definitely had parts of his body amputated, and he looked as old as her father would be now, were he still alive.
He also spoke with a Germanic accent, the way that her father had.
Some men had been the guards, and others had been the prisoners. The guards had carried out the operations on the prisoners, and the prisoners had been the ones who had paid for it in the end.
This man, she kept thinking, had to have once been a prisoner. And now, he was going to get his vengeance, in some way or another...
CHAPTER TWO
She could remember traveling on a boat with her aunt and uncle.
She was frightened back then.
They were very silent, during most of the trip, and Ursula was dying to ask them why her parents hadn't come on the boat with them.
She didn't ask them for years, because she was always too scared of what the answer might be. But, by the time that she did ask, she was twenty, and her aunt thought that she was old enough to know the truth.
After a few anxious moments, her aunt said, "They are dead. They've been dead for a long time."
"You mean, when I first came to live with you, they were...."
"You were brought by your mother, so how could they have been dead then? It was just that your mother sensed that your father was not the same after the war had ended, and she feared for you. She feared that he would try to do something."
She could not have been more than three when she had first lived with her aunt and uncle, and for the life of her, could not imagine what he would have tried to do to her at such a young age. But she wanted to know more, and at least learn about what had happened to them, so her aunt continued with the story.
"Your mother went back to him, my poor sister, even though I begged her not to return. They were dead before we came to America, my child, but your uncle and I did not want you to know about it back then."
"You have always been like my mother and father," she said, although she knew something that her aunt didn't know, which would have made her uncle seem more like her lover than her father.
"Your mother went back to live with him. Within a year, they had killed each other. Your father was a sick man and he was always abusing her, physically. The time when she came to bring you to live with us, she was already bruised. She was wearing long sleeves, and tried not to let me see her arms.
"But I insisted, and I could see that there were large scars running along her flesh. He had used her as his burning post. He would take cigarettes and stub them out on her arm, and she would let him."
Ursula had thought she would be sick then, but she tried to remain as calm as she possibly could. However, she could not understand why any woman would let a man use her in such a way. A woman who would do that, she kept thinking, had to be as sick as the man who was doing it to her.
"He would whip her, too," her aunt said, and Ursula could vaguely remember the sound of lashings, even though she had been so young.
Back then, she had no idea what the sounds were, but she had heard the swooshing sound of the whip, and the cracking sound as the leather must have been making contact with her mother's naked skin.
"How did they die?" the twenty-year-old girl asked during that long talk with her aunt. "I would like to know the exact details."
"He was whipping her brutally, and she must have known that she was bleeding to death, because of all the open wounds. She shot him in the head with a pistol."
"Oh God," the girl gasped, covering her mouth.
"Is it not horrid? I have always thought so. They found him lying on the floor, and she was hugging him tightly, dead, too. Obviously, he died before she did, and she managed to crawl to him and hold him, while she slowly bled to death."
"But how could a woman love a man like that?"
Her aunt knew that she was not a virgin, although she could not have imagined the real truth to it. Her aunt imagined that Charles, the man Ursula had been dating for the last few years, had been the one to take her.
She had been with Charles, but not before she'd been with her uncle.
"There are some men who know how to make love to women better than other men, and your father, I imagine, was one of them. When I asked your mother the same question, after seeing the burns, she said something about the way he brought her pleasure. I knew
that it had to have been sexual pleasure. After all, there were many rumors about your father, and his enormous size."
Ursula had stopped asking her questions then, for she thought that she had learned more than she wanted to know.
What troubled her after that, was how her uncle could stay with her aunt all those years, when she knew the truth about their sex life.
For he had taken her when she was sixteen, but not against her will.
One evening, while her aunt was out at her weekly mahjong game, she and her uncle had been sitting in the living room. She had been reading a book, and he had been reading the papers, when he turned to her and smiled.
"How old are you now, Ursula?" he's asked, and his smile was hypnotizing.
He had blond hair, a cleft chin, blue eyes, and perfectly straight teeth. He was three years younger than her aunt was, making him thirty-seven, and she had been having dreams about him for the longest time.
"Sixteen," she said to him, "and that makes me a woman."
"What do you mean by that?" he had asked, and she was smart enough to detect a note of slyness in his voice.
"It means that I am ready to have my first man," she told him.
And their eyes met, and they both knew that it was going to happen.
They stood up at the same time, and reached for each other. When their hands touched, she could feel some kind of heat already running through her body. He squeezed her hand and pulled her closer to him, so that his chest was pressing against hers. His lips moved to hers, and she felt him kissing her hard.
The heat made her burn with more desire, as she sucked on his mouth probing tongue, then felt the bulge that was stiffening in his pants.
"Come," she said to him, breaking from the kiss but still holding his hand.
She turned and started to lead him upstairs to her bedroom, and as soon as they were inside, he closed the door.
She stood there and began to undress for him, feeling just the slightest bit self-conscious about her naked body. She had cone shaped breasts, with brown nipples, and her raised cunt patch was the same color as the blondish-brown hair on her head. Her tender nipples felt so stiff and tingly when the air blew over them, and he moved to her again, kissed her on the lips, and cupped her buttocks with his hands. She could feel her cunt starting to get wetter.
He began to massage her buttocks, then kissed his way down her neck, and sucked one of her brown nipples into his mouth.
"Oh uncle," she moaned, as she felt the warmth of his tongue.
He started to flick his tongue back and forth over her breast, and she could feel the way her nipple was throbbing.
Slowly, she moved her hand to his zipper, and pulled it down. She reached inside and felt for his hardness, because she wanted it desperately.
She started to massage it with her fingers before pulling it out of his pants, and once she had it out, she wanted it as much as he seemed to want her sex.
"Let me undress first," he said to her. "Your aunt would never understand it, and so, we should both be naked so there will be no signs."
"Do you and auntie do it anymore?" she asked him.
"No. She has been cold toward me for years and years now."
Ursula had felt sensational when she heard that, for she had been doing much reading, and knew that sex was such a basic, urgent need with men. She wanted to do her part to help her uncle overcome his needs. He opened his shirt and put it over the back of the chair near her desk. She could see his pink nipples, and a thick coat of blond hair that was all over his chest. Somehow, she knew that hair was going to feel as warm as fur.
He stepped out of his slip-ons, and pulled his pants and underwear down. He folded his pants neatly over the back of the chair, too, and as his back was to her, she could see the way his huge testicles were bouncing up and down in their sack.
Then, he turned back to her, and she could see how hard it was.
"Lay on your side," he said to her, pointing to the bed.
And as she lay down, he did too, in the opposite direction. She gasped as he moved his mouth between her legs, but once she felt the soft probing of his tongue against her lips, she started to moan loud.
She could feel the way his tongue was licking her love button, which she knew a great deal about, having played with herself since the age of fourteen. She felt how much nicer it was, though, to have someone else touching it, rather than to be touching herself. It was a whole different feeling.
He started to suck on it, and that was when she moved her mouth to his organ. She ran her tongue along the underside of his cock, and saw the way it bobbed upwards, almost as if it was trying to get away from her.
She licked her way down to his balls, and sucked them both into her mouth. Then, she started to massage him with her clenched fist.
But soon, she wanted to suck it all the way into her mouth. She had approximated the length as being about nine inches, and as she opened wide to take the thing between her lips, she wondered if she would be able to take it all the way.
She could feel the thick head of it pressing against her throat, and then, she inhaled deeply and smelled something that made her tingle even more. She could smell the fragrant odor of male sex, and she knew that it was coming from the thick blonde patch that was right above his cock.
Ursula wanted to move her nose closer, so that the odor would be stronger, and so, he continued, even as the thick head pressed into her open throat. The smell was really what got her all the way through it.
She loved the way she felt it pulsating, too, once the head was in her throat, and she started to gag around it, just a little.
Meanwhile, she could feel the pleasure that was running through her entire body. He was sucking at her harder and harder, and her juices were beginning to flow into his mouth as fast as her cunt could spasm them forth.
He didn't stop after she had come once. He continued to lick her insides, digging his tongue in deeper, so that her love button was pressed down, then pulling it back so that he could wiggle the small button back and forth.
She started to slide her lips up and down the shaft faster, too. She worked her tongue over the slit of his cock, because when she did it once, accidentally, she could feel the way his body jerked spasmodically, and knew that the jerking was a sign of his increasing pleasure build-up. Ursula was a smart girl. She had always been so. Sometimes, her aunt would say that she was much too smart for her own good, and perhaps, she had wanted to laugh as it happened, the woman would have said it then.
For Ursula had done a great deal of reading about sex, so that when the time would come, she would know just how to please her man.
She knew how sensitive the head of the penis was, or so the book had told her, and she made sure to keep that head on her uncle's constantly stimulated, until she could feel the pulsations getting harder.
His shaft was lubricated with her saliva, she had seen to it, and she started to work her hand up and down the golden rod. She could feel the pulsations getting more and more fierce, and then it started to happen.
The first spurt of cream shot onto her tongue, and she loved the taste of it, so much so, that she didn't even swallow it right away. She wanted to drain him of all the come first, and in holding it on her tongue, she knew that her taste buds would be able to take in the full flavor of him.
He was moaning, although they were muffled between her legs, during the entire time that he was coming, and for a long time afterwards.
For after she had sucked all the cream out of him, she could feel the way he was starting to lose the hardness, and she knew that he had to be hard if she wanted to feel him between her legs.
She swallowed what he had shot into her mouth, then kept sucking on his shaft for the longest time, until she could feel the power returning.
While she had been doing that, he'd been sucking and eating her, so that her buttocks were wet with a warm passion sweat, and she was coming over and over again. She lost track as to how many times she had come.
In fact, she could recall, it was not until that time that she was aware of how many times a woman could come. True, she had read that there was such a thing as multiple orgasms for women, but she had just thought herself incapable of having them, for each time she had played with herself, once would just make her too tired to try for a second time.
But since she was not making the decisions that time, and it was his sucking that was doing it to her, he could decide if he wanted to make it happen to her more than once, and she knew that he was making it happen so many times.
Until she pulled her head away from his once again stiff cock.
"I want to feel you inside of me," she moaned to him. "I want to feel what it is like to be fucked, uncle."
He had been more than willing. When he pulled his mouth away from her cunt, she had felt a longing, for only a few seconds.
Because within a short time, he was turning his body around, and spreading her legs. He took her pillow, and propped it up under her buttocks, so that her cunt would also be raised up off the bed.
"Have you something we can put on the pillow, in case you bleed?"
"Why should I bleed?"
"If you are still a virgin, it could happen, and if your aunt was to see the blood, she might suspect that something . .
"I know that I no longer have a hymen," she said to him. "You can be sure that there will be no blood. Only pleasure."
He never did ask her how she was sure, but she was sure, because she had broken it herself, the first time she had masturbated with something other than her fingers.
She felt him starting to rub his cock head against her eager, moist lips, and they spread wide open to allow him a clear entry, when he was ready.
Ursula recalled how he tortured her, to a point He kept rubbing himself there, and she could feel her desire building up, until she was literally begging him to finally put it into her, or else she would just faint with desire.
Then, he thrust into her the first time, cautiously, as if he had not believed her and was expecting to come up against her hymen skin. But as inch after inch moved into her, he realized that she was telling the truth.
His hairy chest was pressing against her breasts, and she felt as if he did have on a coat of fur, after all. She loved the way that it was feeling, particularly when he started to thrust faster, and she could feel the way his hair was getting wetter.
She loved the way he felt inside of her, the first time, and all the times after that. Of course, the first time was special, because she had never felt the sensations from a hard fuck before.
She wrapped her legs around his buttocks at many points, and felt how wet his ass cheeks were getting.
She pulled his lips down to hers, so that she could be kissing him while his organ was sliding in and out of her, working over her love button, and causing her to get wet and tight as her spasms increased.
She could feel him slowing down many times as he was fucking her, for there were moments when the pulsations were getting tense in his cock, and she knew that he would have come had he not slowed down.
"You feel as beautiful as you are," he whispered in her ear, and even the warm breath in her ear added to the sensations.
He started to work his way in and out of her, thrusting upwards each time that he thrust in, and she could feel her love button tingling ten times more than it had been when he first started, which was a sensational feeling for her.
In the end, she had started to thrust up and down against him, because he was stopping at moments when she wanted him to continue, and she could feel the way his cock was pulsating harder and harder, until . . . She felt the cream filling her up with warmth.
True, she had been hot inside before he started to fill her that way, but she felt even hotter once he was coming inside of her.
It was the most pleasant feeling in the world, she recalled, and one that she was to experience over and over again with him, for each week, when her aunt would go out to play her weekly mahjong game, they would get together.
Only one week a month, when the game was at their house, would they have to miss their weekly encounter, until that one week when he had wanted to do it upstairs anyway, telling her that they would never know what was going on.
By that time, she had been going with Charles, and she had learned that different men can do it differently, for Charles brought out feelings in her that her uncle had not yet begun to explore.
As she recalled all the good, it took away from some of the pain she was feeling, pain which had been flooding her body for God knows how long.
For she was doubled over, and her hands were tied behind her back.
She could not see the clamp like device that was wrapped around her hips, but she could feel what was happening with it.
It seemed to be made of leather, with clamps at the end, and they were pulling her cunt lips wide apart, and her buttocks too, so that she knew her ass-hole must have been opened and exposed to whoever came up behind her.
She wished that someone would come behind her, too.
For her breasts were starting to ache, also. It was really the trap like device that cut into her nipples, which was causing her to stay bent forward in that position, for her nipples were caught in it.
Ursula was able to make out that the thing which held her nipples had a spring at the end of it, and worked along the same theory that a mouse trap worked on.
Of course, she had not set it off by touching her nipples against any kind of device. When she had awakened, she had found herself trapped there already, and although she had lost all track of time, she could feel the trap cutting her nipples now, and causing them to throb.
It was not the pleasure kind of throbbing that she had felt each time her uncle, or Charles, would play with her nipples.
She had been thinking back to her uncle, and the nice times with him, just to try and pass the time after she woke up.
She liked to think of nice things, particularly when she felt like she was in some kind of danger, for it was the only way to keep herself going.
She could remember a time when she and Charles had been in his car, and had gotten caught in a thunderstorm so great, that he had to pull over on the side of the road because there was no visibility at all.
At first, the two of them had just sat there, trembling, hoping that lightning would not strike them, but then, she had turned toward him, and she had moved her hand down between his legs.
"Let's do something nice to pass the time. If lightning will strike and destroy us, at least let it happen while we are enjoying ourselves. For it will happen no matter what, and there is nothing we can do about it."
And he had liked the idea, particularly when she had opened his pants and had started to move her mouth down to take him between her lips.
It had worked then, and they had gotten out of the storm.
So, she kept thinking, why shouldn't it work now. Even though my body is in pain, for reasons that I know nothing about, I should be able to get through it all by thinking nice thoughts. It should work.
And at some point, it had worked. For while she had recalled the first time she had taken her uncle's dick into her mouth, she had felt the way that her cunt was starting to get wet inside, even with the tight clamps pulling her lips open.
But then, there hadn't been enough heat, and it had bothered her. Since she was so spread, and there was a breeze coming from somewhere, she was not hot enough inside to make herself come, just by thinking.
She reasoned that perhaps, if she had use of her fingers, she could be able to masturbate herself, and bring herself off.
She had done that many times. But her hands were bound, and when she started to think about that, her wrists began to ache.
"Shit, why is there so much cold in here?" she said out loud, and to no one in particular, because as far as she knew, no one else was around.
That started her thinking, however. Since someone had tied her up this way, that someone still had to be around. A person would not do this to another person and then go off and leave her alone.
"Help," she started to scream. "Someone, help me. For one thing, turn up the heat in this fucking place. It's cold."
And then, almost as if some God-like person had heard her, she could feel some kind of-heat moving closer to her.
There was a purring sounds, that sounded much like an engine or motor that had been turned on, and then, the heat was coming closer and closer.
Urusla managed to look through her hanging breasts (which she feared, if she stayed in this position too long, would soon become saggy, the way her aunt's had become), and she could see where the heat was emanating from.
There was a conveyer belt, that was moving, and it was moving something closer and closer to the trap like device holding her breasts. At first, though she tried, she couldn't even make out what it was, but could just make out the movement of the conveyer belt.
Then, as she felt the heat near her cunt, she was able to see the flickering light of a candle. It had burned down quite a bit, she was happy to note, because she kept thinking that if it was as tall as it could have once been, her cunt would have been burned to a crisp as it passed under.
The belt was moving slowly, and it was too slow for her to bear.
She could feel her body sweating, but it was not from the heat. A candle couldn't have given off enough heat for that to happen with.
It was out of fear. She was sweating from fear.
Because she knew something, and it was the most horrifying thought now.
Once the conveyer belt pulled the candle all the way down to the end, the fire from it was going to be burning at her nipples. There would be nowhere else for the candle to move once it hit the trap, and it would rest there, burning and burning her flesh.
As she felt it moving even closer, she started to blow air, hoping that she could blow the candle out. But there was no way that she could exhale in the direction of the flame, which was coming too close for comfort...
CHAPTER THREE
Slowly, slowly, slowly.
Ursula's lips kept moving, repeating those words, hoping that the candle might follow what she was saying. She knew then, that she was going crazy, in some way or another. For it had nothing to do with the candle.
It had to do with the conveyer belt. Whoever had turned it on, had to turn it off, because the candle was going to keep moving at the same rate that the belt moved.
"Enough heat," she started to scream out, suddenly remembering that it was her plea for heat that had caused the thing to start moving. "I'm no longer cold. Believe me. I was just kidding around. Can't you take a joke?"
And then, she could hear a kind of laughter. It was hideous, and sent chills through her body. It was an evil sounding laugh, but it was still almost like the sound of another human being, and that was good.
"Please, I don't want to burn," she started to scream. "I don't want to burn. I'll do anything for you just to stop it. Anything."
Suddenly, the conveyer belt stopped. The candle was right under her belly, and she could feel the heat there. It was nice, but she knew that it would be too much after a few minutes. But she didn't know if she could dare ask for more.
Then, she heard the sound. It was almost like footsteps, only it wasn't quite that. It was more or less like the walk of someone with a cane, but not that, either. She didn't really know what it was, until she saw him.
But she didn't even see him right away.
First, she just heard the whispering, exhaling sound.
"Happy birthday," the voice said, and there was even something crazed to the sound of it, but then, she felt the warm, exhaling breath blowing under her belly, and the candle was no longer flickering.
"Oh, thank you," she said, moaning with pleasure.
For a second later, she could feel something touching her buttocks. At first, she thought that it was flesh, but then, she knew it was another metal clamp. She thought that maybe, whoever was there, might be taking the clamps off.
But it was almost like the person was probing into her cunt with another clamp, for she felt the coldness against her clitoris.
It started to wiggle her clitoris back and forth, and she could feel the pleasure that had been building up inside of her, thinking back on her uncle and Charles, starting to build up all over again.
She had stopped coming, at one point, while thinking back. In fact, she recalled, she hadn't really come, although it seemed like she was close to it.
But now, with this metal thing wiggling her clit back and forth, she could feel herself being worked up, toward that orgasm.
She started to moan softly.
"Oh, that feels so nice," she said, even though it only felt okay. She was smart enough to know that whoever was behind her was someone who could help her, and flattery was always a way of getting someone on your side.
"Is it really?" the voice asked, with some hint of sarcasm, as if he knew that she was smart enough to just say something to flatter him.
"Oh yes. I can honestly say that I've never had it done, quite like this before. And any time-that something new is done to me, and it feels nice, well, it's always so much better, being the first time and all."
"You are a flatterer," the voice behind her said, and she could feel another clamp like thing rubbing her ass-hole.
She could not understand why the man wasn't touching her with his hands.
She didn't know if she would have liked it (but she would have loved it more than the clamps, for sure), but felt that any normal man would want to run his hands inside of her cunt, or run them over her ass.
After all, she was so vulnerable, too.
Why wasn't he fucking her, she wondered, also. Why wasn't he sticking his cock into her and fucking her? She was wide open, and spread to be entered. And surely, he must be able to see how wet I am.
Because she could feel the wetness starting to drip down her legs, and she could feel the pleasure flowing through her body.
The only time it stopped was when she realized that her nipples, which usually got nice and stiff, and even started to throb when she was coming, were still in that constraining mouse trap-like thing.
And they were hurting her more, because they were throbbing.
She couldn't let him know, however. Whoever this man was, she kept thinking, he was not all there. Any man who would tie a person up the way she was tied, couldn't be all there, and she knew it from the start. But she was going to let him think that he was pleasing her, and her wet pussy was good enough evidence to prove it.
The metal thing stopped playing with her clit, after she had orgasmed once, and she was a little upset that the man had stopped the way he had. She thought that it would have felt much better had he gone on.
After all, she was capable of more than one orgasm.
But then, she could hear those strange kinds of footsteps again, and she felt something pulling at the trap-like device.
"Oh, thank you," she said to him, as she felt her nipples throbbing with joy. "Thank you so much, sir. I can't begin to tell you how much that was hurting. I didn't think it was so bad at first, but after a while, it hurt a lot. And with your making me come and all, well, my nipples were just..."
But she could hear the footsteps again, or whatever they were, and then, she could see something of what he looked like.
She tried to keep the smile on her face, even though she felt revulsion.
The reason his footsteps sounded the way they did, she could now see, was because the man didn't have legs like most people. She couldn't really tell if he had stumps or not, because he was wearing spiked leather bands around where the stumps would be.
He was also wearing something around his cock. It was a leather strap, which held his cock and balls, although the shaft was sticking straight out.
The balls were encased in the leather, although, when she looked at the rest of his body, and realized why his hands had not been touching her, she wondered if maybe he had no balls, like he had no hands, either.
For instead of the hands, there were stumps, and he wore leather cuffs at the end, with spikes sticking out of them, and one long hook.
He had some kind of leather device around his chest. It went over his shoulders and came right above his navel. There were spikes sticking out of it, too, and she could see something that horrified her more than anything else.
He looked like he had no nipples. He looked almost as if he had spikes instead of nipples, and silently, she hoped that they were just devices that were covering the areas where his nipples should be.
He wore some kind of cap on his head, which covered his entire head, and she could see the bands that went around this leather cap, also with many spikes sticking out in all kinds of directions.
Within seconds, he did something which made her realize how adept his was with his two hooks instead of hands.
He took a leather cap and slid it over her head, pulling her hair through it in the back, and then, snapped the button closed under her neck, so that the thing was on her like some kind of strange confining cap.
"I have heard no reaction from you yet, Ursula," he said to her, and she could hear such a bitterness in his voice.
"What kind of reaction were you expecting?" she asked him, although she knew what he must have been expecting.
"Look at me, and tell me if I look normal to you."
"I really can't see all of you, but from what
I can see down here, you look quite okay to me," she said, looking directly at his cock.
And she was not lying at all, for although she had only seen two cocks in person before, she had spent many nights looking at pictures.
There were so many magazines boasting male nudes nowadays, all competing with the ones for men that sold cunts and tits.
She had bought many of the magazines, so that she could look at pictures of naked men and compare them.
With the two cocks she had already seen, there was an incredible difference, because while her uncle was uncircumcised, and still had the foreskin which covered the head of his penis, unless pulled back, Charles was circumcised.
The preferred, of the two, the clean cut look.
This man-thing in front of her, had that clean-cut look, too.
His cock didn't even look hard yet, but it was still the most beautiful one she had seen, in person or in pictures. She could see the veins pressing against the flesh of the shaft, making it look more and more desirable.
She had seen cocks with veins, where you could see the blue color, and she had always thought they were hideous. But this one had the veins, but they were not showing in color, but just in texture under the skin.
"Yes," she said again, "you do look okay to me."
The man laughed, and it was almost a mocking kind of laugh, as if he was wondering if she was lying to him, or telling him the truth.
"If you think so much of it, then suck it," he said to her.
"I'd do so gladly, but you're too far away. If you would untie me so that I could get up and move closer, I'd be happy to.. , . "
He took three awkward steps closer to her, and then, she moved her tongue out to his cock and started to lick the head of it.
It tasted the way she could remember cocks tasting, and she started to lick the underside of it, even more. As she did, she could feel the way it was beginning to swell, and she opened her mouth and began to suck it.
She moved her mouth all the way down the shaft, so that her nose was pressing against the leather strap that he had around his cock.
She pressed her chin against the leather bound sack below, just to try and feel whether or not he had balls in there.
Ursula thought that she could feel something, and was happy when she did, for as she first started to press her chin against him, she thought to herself that were she to discover he had no balls, she might get sick. Even with his other limbs seeming to be gone, having no balls would have been the thing that made her the sickest.
Still, she was so curious about this man, and what had happened to him.
She no longer had any questions about his bitterness, however. If someone had done something to her, like they did to this man, she knew that she would be as bitter as possible, and maybe even torture people, the way he seemed to like to torture others.
For if she was an example of what he liked to do to people, torture might not even be a strong enough word, she surmised.
Once his cock was hard, she could feel the steady thrusting of his hips back and forth, as he drove himself in and out of her mouth. , "Yes, you do feel good," he said, and she detected some minor trace of an accent in his gruff voice, which, at times, seemed stronger. It was almost as if he was trying to cover up the fact that he had an accent at all.
But as she continued to work her mouth around his shaft, making sure to flick her tongue along the underside each time he thrust in, he was getting more turned on, and didn't seem to be so concerned with covering his accent.
"Yah, this is good," he said to her, and she knew he was German then.
Her aunt and uncle both talked with a slight trace of a German accent, her aunt more so than her uncle, so she was used to growing up with it. Sometimes, it sounded so normal to her, that she hardly even noticed they had it.
But this man did, and as his cock started to throb in her mouth, she could feel her jaw aching just a little bit.
"Yah, you do like to suck a cock," he said. "I will not hurt you as much as I had planned, so long as you can continue to bring me such pleasures."
A sentence like that made her tremble with fear.
What did he mean by it? What did 'hurt you as much as I had planned' actually mean, she kept thinking? Why was he planning to hurt her at all?
She didn't even know him, and she couldn't understand what he could be holding against her. Why her, out of all the girls in the world?
He started to pulsate harder in her mouth, and she could feel the way his cock was getting tense. Each time he pulled back, she flicked her tongue over his cock head, and then, suddenly, she could feel him coming.
The first load of come shot deep into her throat, and she started to gag when she felt it there. Then, he pulled back a little, and she flicked her tongue over his spurting cock head, which made him react almost violently.
He pulled her head up by clamping his claw against her pony tail.
The move was so violent, that some of the come dripped out of her mouth.
And she could see that his cock was still spurting, but he was not letting her move tier mouth back there to get it.
Instead, he was screaming at her.
"What do you think you were doing when you tried that?" he yelled.
"I was trying to bring you as much pleasure as possible," she said to him, still coughing up some of the come. "I know that the man feels so sensitive on his cock head when he's coining, and I was just doing it to make you feel better. Was it more pleasure than you can stand to bear?"
He slapped her across the face with his other claw, and she could feel a stinging on her cheek, almost as if the claw had cut into her.
"You will stay here and think about this experience," he said to her. "I will be back to deal with you later."
"Wait... " she said, but she could hear the sound of retreating footsteps, moving away from her, faster and faster, until there was a dead silence in the room.
She couldn't understand why he had reacted so violently to something that she had done, which was really so simple. It bothered her, but she couldn't help think that at least her tits were free now.
Her arms were still bound behind her back, however, and as soon as she thought about it, she could feel the way her wrists were throbbing again. It was as if the tight bonds were cutting off all circulation to her hands.
Ursula closed her eyes, and tried to think about the good times with her uncle, and with Charles, but she couldn't.
For although the good times with her uncle had gone on for a while, she couldn't stop thinking about that one time.
Her aunt and all the others had been playing mahjong downstairs, and he and she had been upstairs, in her bedroom. Actually, as she recalled, she had been up there before he had entered.
"I want you now," he said to her, and she could sec the stiff bulge in his pants.
"Uncle, they're right down there. I couldn't possibly think of doing anything to you now. I'd hate for auntie to come up."
"Just suck it," he said to her.
But Ursula had turned back to her reading, and then, he had grabbed her by her long hair, and had started to pull on it.
"You have a boyfriend now and you no longer need me, is that it?" he asked her, and she could see how red his face was. "Is that it?"
She and Charles had been seeing more and more of each other, ever since her twenty-first birthday, and the last time they had gone out together, he had even started to talk to her about marrying her one day.
"You're being ridiculous," she said to him. "I don't want to do it to you now only because of what's happening downstairs. Don't you understand that? Didn't I do good for you last week when she was out."
"That was last week," he said, and she heard the sound of him opening his zipper.
Then, when he yanked at her hair again, causing her to turn in his direction, she could see that his cock was hard, and sticking out of his pants. He pulled the foreskin back and nibbed it against her lips.
She could taste a drop of come at the head of his cock, and she licked it away.
The second she opened her mouth to do that, however, he slammed himself in deep. He held the back of her head, and she could feel herself gagging on his cock head, which had now penetrated her throat.
She started to groan a little bit, but it seemed like he was not planning to let her ease up on him. He held the back of her head and started to thrust himself in and out of her mouth at a nice, even pace.
"Yah, you keep sucking it," he moaned to her.
He moved his hand into her robe, and started to massage her breast with his fingers. She could feel the way her nipple swelled up under his touch, and she moaned softly.
"You are liking it," he said to her. "You see. You are liking it."
She wanted to tell him that she had always liked it, because she had. She had never disliked the thought of sucking his cock, and whenever she would start to do it, she would always feel such pleasure.
The thing that she disliked, more than anything, was doing it while her aunt was downstairs in the living room.
Even as his balls were slapping against her chin, she could hear the sounds of the women playing their game, and each time she heard her aunt's raised voice, she wished that she wasn't sucking off her uncle.
But then, he started to thrust in and out of her mouth even faster, and she could feel the tension in his cock. She knew that it would be over in a matter of seconds, and worked her tongue over the tip of his shaft, to turn him on even more.
And it was all his fault, she recalled, almost as if he wanted the woman to come running upstairs, because he did something that night that he. had never done before, even when they were in the house alone. As the come started to spurt into her mouth, and her tongue was flicking back and forth over the head of his cock, he started to scream out.
"Yah, take it all," he yelled, so loud, that she knew her aunt was going to come running. Everyone in the house was going to come running.
And sure enough, as he was forcing himself on her still, she could hear the sounds of footsteps in the hall, and then, her door was pushed open.
Ursula would never forget the look of horror on her aunt's face.
She opened her mouth, and her uncle's still shooting dick fell out, so that the last load of come shot onto her breasts, which were exposed since he had opened her robe to finger her nipples.
"What is going on here?" her aunt started to cry, and Ursula could see the tears rolling down the woman's cheeks.
"She begged me to come in here, darling," her uncle started to say. "She called me in here, and then started to play with me. I could not stop what she was doing."
"You bastard," Ursula screamed at him.
She could not understand why he would lie like that, although now, as she thought of it, she knew he was doing it to save his own name. He could not let his wife know that he had initiated all the action.
But she started to. She started to tell her aunt how they had been doing it for the last five years, and told her other things, too.
"He says that you no longer satisfy him any longer, because you no longer let him touch your body. He has been telling me that for years. Oh, auntie, I didn't want you to ever know that this was happening. But tonight, he did force himself on me."
"She is lying," he said.
"No, he is the liar. He is a lying double-faced bastard."
Her aunt's friends were all looking in, and once they realized what happened, they started to walk down the stairs, one by one.
The older woman was the last one standing by the door.
"It makes no difference who is lying," she said to both of them. "For you are both guilty. One could not have done it without the other, and I hate you both now. I swear that I hate you both."
And then, she turned and ran down the stairs, in hysterics.
Her uncle had looked at her, with the same kind of crazed hatred she had seen on his face when he first entered her room.
"You will pay for this," he said to her. "You will pay dearly for this whole thing that happened. It is your fault."
"Fuck you, bastard," she said to him. "I don't know how I ever could have thought I loved you once. But you are responsible for this, and I'll not take the blame for any of your fuck-ups."
She had never cursed at him before, but trembled with fear as she saw the look of surprise on his face when she did it that time.
"You won't be here too much longer. You're growing up, and you'll be leaving this house soon. Once you do, she will see things my way."
"She'll never forgive you, because she knows you too well."
"We shall see. Once you are gone, she will. And you will pay for what happened tonight. Remember that."
And as Ursula thought about her predicament now, she wondered if her uncle had had anything to do with it.
Because she could remember the night before she woke up and found herself here.
It was three nights after the incident with her aunt, and he had come into her room to talk with her.
"I'm sorry about everything that happened the other night, Ursula. I will tell her that I was responsible for it all."
"How noble of you to take all the blame."
"Your sarcasm doesn't even bother me. I just thought that I'd tell you. And I also thought that we could have a drink together."
He was holding two glasses, and she decided that a drink before retiring would be just the thing to make her sleep well.
And that night, she could remember sleeping better than she had in the longest time. It was the most peaceful sleep imaginable, and she was not at all restless, the way she had been for all the nights after her aunt had caught them. , She couldn't remember waking up at home after that drink. She could only remember being where she was, right this very second.
"You will pay for what happened tonight," he kept telling her.
And as far as she was concerned, the tortures she had been through already, were more than enough payment for what had happened between her uncle and herself.
CHAPTER FOUR
Maria felt as if she was going through some kind of deja vu.
It was the kind of deja vu, however, that made her body shake with fear. She had had them before, and somehow, that had always been horrid.
Why can't they be beautiful feelings, she sometimes wondered.
She couldn't see a thing, because of the face mask that someone had put on over her face. It seemed like a tight kind of leather, allowing her just enough space to be able to breathe, but not to see a thing.
Her arms were pulled behind her back, too, and they were bound with a piece of tight cord, that she felt cutting into her flesh.
And she was naked.
Those were the three things she had felt before, in the past. To be blinded, bound and naked. It had happened to her more often than she cared to remember.
The first time had been when she was young, living in Germany.
She couldn't have been more than fifteen, and the war was just coming to an end.
"A young soldier would like to meet you," her father, a high ranking Nazi official at the time, told her. "I have shown him your picture, and he-likes you."
"Father, I would like to chose my own husband," she had said.
He had slapped her across the face, so hard, that her cheek stung for hours.
"Insolent little bitch," he'd screamed, his temper flaring. "Don't you know that you must obey me and my commands?"
"I will date this man, but nothing else," she said to him.
"What happens, will happen."
And so, the date had been arranged, and her mother had bought her a lovely new dress that she could wear.
When Keir came to pick her up, she had to go into her father's study and apologize to him for her outburst the day before.
"I am sorry, father. He is a most handsome man. I never thought that he would be as attractive as he is."
"Do you think that I would try to set up my daughter with an inferior? No. Only the best for our family. You should know that."
And if she hadn't known it before, at least she was happy to learn it.
For Keir had short blond hair, light blue eyes, and golden skin. That was the thing she remembered the most about him, and the thing which she adored the most.
His skin was not just white, but it was actually golden.
They had gone out to a local pub, where they had started to drink.
"And what do you do for the Nazi?" she asked him. "Or is that just classified information? I have heard my father telling my mother that he cannot allow her to know certain things, and that bothers me."
"How so?"
"If people are to be close to one another, then one must know what the other one does, particularly when it is something as important as what one does for a living. Now I know you are a soldier, and are paid a soldier's salary. But what you actually do as a soldier remains a mystery to me." She had lost all track of how much they had been drinking, although she knew that they were drinking more than she had ever done at one time.
And after he had a few more than she did, he started to tell her things.
He told her about working in the camps, and about some of the experiments that they were doing, involving castrations and amputations, and the like.
When she started to hear about it, he knew that he should go no further. "I can see that you .are looking ill," he said to her. "Let us go out for a walk because we could both use some fresh air."
And she had felt so young and alive as they walked, until the full effect of the alcohol started to hit her, where she thought she would be sick.
Keir told her that he lived very close to where they were, and he suggested that they go there so she could rest, for only a while.
"I would not like to keep you out too late, for your father would think me a lecherous young man," he told her.
They had laughed about it, although, once they were in his apartment, he led her into his bedroom, and told her to lay back on the bed. Within a few minutes, she was sleeping soundly, but for how long, she did not know.
For when she had awoke, and opened her eyes, all was black.
She had tried to pull the mask that she could feel off from her eyes, but then, she felt that something was restraining her hands, and even cutting into her wrists. She tried to pull at the bonds, but they were too tight.
And then, she had felt something else. She was completely naked.
"Keir, where are you?" she had started to scream, nervously.
And then, she had felt a hand pulling her under her arms, and pulling her to her feet. She was led somewhere, into another room perhaps.
She could hear some voices as she felt a whip stinging her body, and she cried out in pain. She could not understand why anyone would do that to her, and tried to think that she was just having a nightmare.
But then, she could feel someone touching her body, and within seconds, there was a mouth moving to her cunt.
No one had ever touched her there before, but this mouth began to lick and suck at her, and she could feel the way her cunt was getting wetter inside. She started to moan softly as the tongue touched her love button, and she thought that she was going to pass out from the increasing pleasures.
Meanwhile, hands were touching her breasts.
There were just two of them, and she was beginning to think that Keir might be the only one there, although she could not understand why he had her tied up.
He continued to eat her for the longest time, and she could feel herself coming over and over again. She had only played with her own self once, and she had felt nice tingling sensations running through her body.
As she felt her knees buckling, when she thought she was reaching an even higher peak, she felt the hands sliding down over her belly and moving behind to her fleshy buttocks, so that they could hold her up.
"Ach, you are beautiful," she heard his voice saying, and the tongue continued to lap at her, faster and faster.
After that, she could feel it licking its way up her body.
Her brown nipple was sucked on, over and over again, until it was so still that the finger which took over for the mouth, brought it more pleasure.
His lips were touching her lips soon, for the mask she wore then did not cover her nose and mouth, but just her eyes.
And as she felt him kissing her, and his tongue was pressing into her mouth, she could feel his cock pressing against her cunt lips.
He was hard, and it felt so thick, and menacing.
He forced her to lay on her back, and he spread her legs wide open. Then, he rubbed himself against her lips, until they were opening and closing spasmodically, and he drove himself deep into her.
At first, there had been pain, but after it was in, he rested on top of her and she could-feel his flesh pressing against hers. She loved the strong feeling of his chest, and her nipples were throbbing as she realized that his skin was wet, most-likely because of the way that he was sweating. She could also hear him panting, harder and harder.
And then, he started to move it in and out of her. She could feel the pleasure building up inside of her as the thickness of the shaft made contact with her love button, and she closed her eyes then, even though she couldn't see to begin with.
At least that way, she could think that she was not looking, on her own accord.
That way, too, she could just concentrate on the pleasures of his cock. She felt his balls slapping against her, each time that he thrust into her, and she soon felt the way she was spasming hard around him.
He slowed down, until her wet spasms had subsided.
And then, he started to thrust in and out of her again.
He did so for the longest time, and she came more times than she could remember. Finally, she felt the way he was starting to throb inside of her, and it took only a few more seconds before she felt the cream filling her up.
Maria would never forget the way she had moaned then.
"Ah, harder," she started to say, and he began to do just that, thrusting in and out of her with a harder slapping force.
After he had come inside of her, he pulled out of her cunt, and she felt his naked cock sliding up her body.
He moved his cock to her mouth, and she sucked him eagerly, for she could still taste some come there, and wanted to taste more.
Since it was the first time she had ever been with a man, she didn't know that most men lost their erections after one orgasm. He was still hard after coming inside of her cunt, and she sucked his cock for the longest time, until she could feel that he was throbbing again.
When lie came the second time, she could taste it all on her tongue. She sucked him eagerly, letting the cream pile up in her mouth before swallowing it.
After he had come, she felt him lilt her up and carry her back to the bed.
When she woke up, some time later, she was dressed, as she had been when they had first come to his apartment. He was sitting on a chair, by the bed, looking at her, and when he smiled, his teeth seemed even whiter against his golden skin.
"You must have been having pleasant dreams," he said to her. "I could see this smile on your face the whole time."
And she had been terribly confused, for what had happened to her had seemed so real, and yet, there she was, back on the bed again, as if she had just laid down to rest a half an hour earlier.
He took her home that night, and they made another date.
When she undressed for bed that night, she could see a lash mark on her belly, and she remembered the cracking sound of the whip in her dream.
That was the only clue that made her think it had all happened, but since he had said nothing about it, she had said nothing, also.
She continued to date Keir, until the war ended, and then, they decided that they would get married.
On their wedding night, he took her, as if he had never had her before. And since she was thinking she had only dreamed about the first time, she was enjoying her wedding night as if it was really the first time ever.
Anyway, she hadn't seen his body in the dream, since she had been blindfolded, but she could see it on their wedding night.
His cock was so beautiful, and when she started to lick it, she loved the way it tasted, but was sure that she had done it before. After all, it was almost as if she knew what the taste was like.
Plus, she could recall, from her dream, that she had touched him in certain places with her tongue, and he had reacted with a moan, and when her tongue probed out those places again, he moaned softly in her ear.
"Yah, this is so nice," he kept saying, over and over again. And when the cream began to spurt forth, she loved the taste again. He fucked her, and she thought that he had done it that first time, for she had felt the cock moving in and out of her, and on her wedding night, it was so much like it had been in her dream.
When he started to come inside of her, she thought that she would never know any pleasures greater than those during orgasm.
And she loved him, even when she was to learn, in later years, that he had done it to her that first night.
The way she learned was when it started to happen again.
One morning, she woke up, but couldn't see, because her eyes were covered. Then, when she tried to pull at her hands, she couldn't, because they were tied behind her back. And then, she felt the hands under her armpits, pulling her to her feet.
That time, she was whipped harder than she could remember being whipped the first time, and as she felt the lashings, she cried out in pain.
"No, this is more than I can bear," she screamed. "For the reward of my cock, scum, you will bear this and much more," the voice said, and even though he was trying to disguise his voice, there was no way that he could.
She had been married to him for over a year, and she knew him well enough to recognize even a disguised, put-on voice.
After the whipping, which left her body pained, the pleasure began, and she started to moan when he moved his mouth down between her legs. He pushed ljer onto the floor, so that while he was busy sucking at her, he could move his cock into her mouth and have her suck him back.
By that time Maria lived for the touch and taste of his cock.
There was no feeling in the world that was better than it, so when he started to thrust in and out of her mouth, she loved it.
Within a few minutes, she could feel him getting ready to come, and when the gism started to shoot into her mouth, she drank it eagerly, and because it turned her on so much for it to happen, she started to come harder.
She could feel the way he was drinking her juices then, sucking them before her cunt really even had the chance to spasm them out.
Besides those encounters, which happened once or twice a year, everything about their marriage seemed perfect
However, whenever she would try to bring up those encounters, he would always act as if he didn't know what she was talking about.
"You must be having those dreams again," he would tell her.
"No, they are not dreams," she'd say. "They happened to me, and you were the one doing it. I know that you were."
"But why should I do anything like that to the woman I love? I would not want to hurt you in any way."
"Except for the whipping, everything else is beautiful," she would tell him. But he would never admit to having taken any part in it.
After they had been married for a few years, they moved to America, where he found himself a job as a shipping clerk.
She wanted to raise a family more than anything else in the world, but when she wasn't getting pregnant, she decided to go to a doctor. He told her that as far as she went, everything worked well.
"Perhaps it could have to do with your husband," he said to her. "Perhaps he is sterile, but the only way I can know for sure is if he comes in to see me."
She could not convince him to go, however, no matter how much she tried.
And he was angry with her for having gone to the doctor in the first place.
"What kinds of things did you work with in the camp?" she asked him, one night. "Were there any radioactive devices?"
"Why are you questioning me like this?" he screamed at her.
"I read somewhere that devices such as those could make a man sterile. My darling, I would not think anything wrong with you if you are. I would just like to know. We could always adopt children if we had to."
When she said that, he was so outraged, that he slapped her hard across the face, for the first time that she could remember.
She could feel the pain in her cheek for days, because it was a mental, as well as physical pain that she was feeling.
Their marriage, after that incident, changed drastically.
What had once been a marriage, based on love and trust and hope, and even more so, good sex, turned into a deceitful, sexless marriage.
She would have to beg him to fulfill her sexual yearnings, and when he would, he would no longer do it with the same kind of lust that he had once felt for her. She knew, just by the way he no longer looked into her eyes when he fucked her, but rather, just buried his face in the pillow, as if he wanted to get it over with fast, because he was not enjoying what he was doing.
He would thrust, and his hips would be the only part of his body moving.
At first, she was still coming, for she could live with those physical sensations, but when she became more and more aware of the lack of emotion behind them, it was senseless for them to do it, because she felt nothing from it.
Every so often, she would have one of her dreams, or realities.
She was so sure that they were real, because as they started to happen later on in their marriage, the whippings would last longer, and there was no way that she couldn't see the bruises that were left from the whips, even on her body the day after it had happened, because the lashings were so hard.
One day, he just flared up at her, telling her that all she lived for was the hope of having a child, and it was a false hope.
She was in tears, telling him that she loved him, and that if the love they once felt for each other could return, she wouldn't mind if she never had a child. She kept telling him that the child made no difference.
But he seemed convinced that was all she wanted. And one evening, when she was out with some friends, at a movie, he slit his throat.
She came home and found him dead, in a pool of his own blood. She went into hysterics, but was soon composed when neighbors came to visit and calm her down.
The doctor from the company where her husband worked came to call on her while she was in mourning, and he told her that her husband had, indeed, been sterile. In fact, he had learned it the day that he killed himself.
"I did not know it would be such a great shock to him," the doctor said.
"I had been asking him to see a doctor for years, just to check. It would have made no difference one way or the other."
He had been dead for years now, and she no longer felt sorrow. She had led an active social life, and had found a job which paid her enough money to live on.
But then, about a week ago, she had gotten a call from a man with a Germanic accent. He told her that he was a friend of her husband's, in fact, that he had served in the army with her, and that he wanted her to come to his house for the weekend.
She knew that she could use the rest.
When she arrived at the address given, there was no one home, but the door was open, and a note was left, telling her that she should have a drink, and he would be home very shortly.
She knew that the drink must have had something in it then, the same way it had had something in it the night she first dated Keir.
Because when she woke up, she was in some kind of a room, naked and bound, the way he had taken her at times.
"What is happening?" Maria' started to scream out, suddenly.
And then, she could hear the sound of someone walking closer to her, although it didn't sound like footsteps. She didn't really know quite what to make of it.
But then, she felt a claw piercing her flesh.
She tried to pull back, but there was another one piercing her in another place, and it felt as if something horrible was starting to climb up her body. She could feel some flesh, intermingled with these claw, and it was the claws that kept the thing rising upward, upward, as it climbed up her body.
She was more frightened than she had ever been in her life. She could feel something that seemed like a hard cock, touching her belly.
Then, there was one claw in her shoulder, one in her thigh, and she thought that she could feel something cold touching her naked pussy. It was almost like another claw, moving inside of her cunt and wiggling her love button back and forth.
"You are special to me," a man's voice said. "You have always been special to me, and I mean to keep you that way."
"Who are you?" she asked, and she was crying then.
"I told you that I was a friend of your husband's. Well, not actually a friend, if you want to know the truth. An enemy."
When she heard those words, then felt her clit being wiggled back and forth even faster, she thought that she was going to faint.
"I have done nothing to you," she said, wishing that she could see. "If he did anything to you, then he should pay for it, but he is dead."
"I know that. I cannot get vengeance on him, because he is dead. So I can get it on you, although, you are more dear to me than the rest. I can remember seeing pictures of you when you were younger. In fact, there was a picture of you, bound just this way. He said that he took them on your first date."
She gasped. Now she knew that Keir had tied her up for sure, the first time, and all those times afterwards.
"I wish that I still had the picture to prove to you that I am telling the truth, but I was a prisoner back then, and there was no way I-could have gotten my hands on it. But if you only knew how he would talk about you, you would hate him,"
"No," she was still crying, not only because of the pierced flesh, but because of what he was saying to her.
"Ach, but you would. You think that he married you because he loved you, but I heard him say it over and over again, that he married you because he thought your father would be able to help him in the party."
"No, that cannot be true."
"He knew that he would be sterile, too, because of all the radiation that he was testing with. He knew it, but he thought that you would not mind going without children. He knew that you would love him enough."
"And I did. And I still do?"
"How could you love a man who would do this to another?" he screamed, and then she felt something ripping at the blindfold.
And when she could see, she tried not to scream too loud.
There was a man in front of her, or what remained of a man. His arms had been cut off, and his legs were gone, too.
He wore many devices on his stumps, with spikes hanging from them, and it was those spikes which were cutting into her flesh.
There was one part of him that was still there. She had felt it rubbing against her legs, and she had liked the feeling of it, and now that she could actually see it, she liked it even more.
His limbs might have once been severed, but his cock was still there, and as it rubbed against her flesh, it was stiffening.
"I see that you still have eyes for a man's cock," he said to her, and she started to scream again, at the same time that he was laughing.
And then, she could feel it moving into her cunt . . .
CHAPTER FIVE
"Here," he said to her, and he smiled as he handed her a drink.
The claw that he had on now, was longer, and more like a hand, and she smiled at him as she took it. He stood up, and with long pants on, she could see that the artificial legs he had made for himself looked practically real. It was only when he walked that Maria noticed a strange limp, but it certainly was not as bad as it had been when he didn't wear them and walked with those spiked leather bands around his stumps.
"Almost like a whole man," he said to her, as he leaned back against his desk.
He had a very beautiful smile, and it almost reminded Maria of her husband's.
She thought back, to what had happened between them in the room where he had had her tied, and she could hardly believe it.
At first, every one of her impulses told her to be repulsed by this man, or this remainder of a man, who was holding onto her body by keeping his claws dug into her flesh. But then, she started to think a little differently when she saw the cock that was between his legs.
He had moved it into her, and when she had felt how thick it was, and how' it filled her, it was a most incredible feeling.
He started to thrust in and out of her, and she had felt pleasures un-like those she had felt in the longest time. Even when she had been in love with her husband, it wasn't anywhere near as good as this.
Each time he thrust in, she thought that she would faint from pleasure.
Finally, the weight of his body against hers, forced her down on the floor, and she could feel him pulling the claws out of her flesh.
As he did that, she bled, but not anywhere near as much as she had bled during one of her husband's strange whippings.
There was no pain then at all.
There was only pleasure, and this man was sending wave after wave of it through her body, just by moving the lower half of his torso.
She didn't even know what made her do it, but she started to pucker her lips, and lick them with her tongue, tempting his lips closer to hers. He kissed her hard then, and she could feel his eager tongue flicking in and out of her mouth.
Then, his cock started to pulsate in her cunt, and she felt the thick loads of cream shooting into her, and filling her like she hadn't been filled in the longest time. His cock didn't seem to stop shooting for a while, and after it had, it went limp, but was still big enough to keep her filled.
After he had finished, and had pulled out of her, he rolled off her and managed to stand up. He started to walk, and turned back to her.
"If you follow me, I will untie you, and then we can talk."
She did follow him, down a narrow corridor, and into a pine-paneled office where they were soon sitting. But before he had untied her, he had stepped into his artificial legs and then put on pants. Then, he had put on his artificial hands, and had untied her.
He made drinks, which she looked at, ominously.
"If you think that there is something in it this time, Maria, then you are wrong. One spiked drink a day is enough for any woman."
He laughed, and she was still a bit uneasy, until she saw him drink his entire drink, and pour himself another.
Only then did she sip from the glass that she was holding, for only then did she feel that it was safe to do so.
He watched her drink, and smiled.
"I bet you are wondering who I am, and what I am doing. You are probably even wondering why I decided to torture you the way that I did."
"Of course I am," she said to him. "It is only natural to be curious when one comes across a . . . a...."
"A half-man," he said, spitefully.
"Oh, no, I did not mean to imply that...I mean, you're cock is certainly not the cock of a half-man, if you know what I mean."
He smiled then, and brushed his artificial hand over the bulge in his pants.
"Yah. I can remember a time when they were all jealous of me because of my size. They would say that a man such as I should not have been graced with such a huge cock, because they all thought that they were so superior."
"Who are they?" she asked him. "I do not understand who you talk of."
He started to laugh again, but there was a more jovial tone to it this time.
"The Nazis, of course. They did this to me. Your husband, in particular. If I remember right, he was the one who cut off my left leg. He could have done the right one, too, but I do not recall, as the pain from the left one was too great, and I passed out before the other one could be severed."
She gasped when she heard that, and started to shake her head.
"No. No. Keir could never do anything like that to you...."
"Gustaf is my name, if you are wondering, and you are wrong. I do not see how you could defend a man who constantly tied you and whipped you, then pretended that he never did it. Your husband was always a sick man. And I was not lying when I said that he brought in pictures of you to show the others.
"How else would I have known to put you in that position, with the blindfold on and your hands behind your back? Didn't you wonder about it when you awoke?"
"Yes," she said, and now that he was practically clothed, or at least covered from the waist down, she felt naked, and tried to cover her nakedness.
"I knew because he bragged about it, and even showed the pictures to the prisoners such as myself. He said that you were not yet married, but that he would marry you in the future, because your father was a respected man."
She could feel tears welling up in her eyes, and she knew that Gustaf had to be telling the truth. Deep down, she had always felt that there was something hateful inside of Keir, but could never quite place it.
And now, she was beginning to understand what it was.
She did remember hostility from him, the day the war ended, and Germany had lost. It was almost as if he had wanted the war to go on and on, so that he would be able to work his way up in the Nazi party.
She had never before imagined that he would try to do it through her father, who was tried for war crimes in the end. Keir had never had anything to say about her father's trial, either, as if he wanted to forget that it had even happened.
"Would you tell me about yourself?" she suddenly asked Gustaf.
"What is it that you would like to know?
You can see what remains and...."
"How did you become a prisoner?"
And as he closed his eyes, he thought back to his days in Germany. She could see a pained look on his face, and as he started to tell her about it, she could understand why there was such pain.
He was a newlywed, and he and his wife had just arrived in their honeymoon suite. He was making love to her the first time, thrusting in and out of her and feeling the greatest lust that a man could feel, when the door had been kicked in.
The guards were standing there, and they surprised him and his wife. They kept thrusting, even as they pulled him out, and they looked at her, lying spread and naked on the bed.
Even as he struggled, he was beaten, and his wife was taken.
He could remember one man in particular, forcing his cock into his wife's cunt and thrusting in and out with hard slapping sounds. He was almost unconscious from the beating he had taken, but they forced him to look over at what was happening.
While the one soldier abused her cunt, with his cock, another one was thrusting in and out of her mouth, so that she could not even scream.
They started to come all over her, and she was a bloody mess when they were finished with her, bleeding profusely between the legs.
"There is no sense in taking her," one of the guards said, and he pulled out a gun and held it up to her head.
Gustaf would never forget what the shot sounded like as he saw her brains flying out all over the room afterwards.
"And then," he told Maria, "I was taken to the camp."
They wanted to use him for experiments, because the guards who had broken into the room on the night of his honeymoon had reported back to their commanders, telling of how well hung he was.
And once they inspected him and saw that he had once of the biggest cocks on any of the men in the camp, they did start all kinds of experiments.
It seemed to him that they were probing and pulling at his flesh during every hour that he was a prisoner in the camp, even though he never knew what they were doing it all for. Once, they had him jerk himself off, and they took the sperm and used it for something else, which he had no knowledge of.
"You could not fight back, because if you did, then they would.. '. .well, you can see what they would do."
"So then, you fought back?" she asked him, and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes as she stared at him.
"Yah. There is only so much a man can take before he no longer feels like a man, and I took all that I could. They still wanted me for my cock, and the experiments that they could use it with, and so, to keep me from fighting back, they started to sever my limbs, one at a time. Until there were none."
"Oh God, what a cruel and unjust world we live in," Maria said, and she fell to her knees in front of him and hugged his hips. "I feel so much pain for you, Gustaf, and I hate myself for having lived such a full life."
He reached down and touched her chin, and she could feel that the artificial hand he had on was almost fleshy.
"I am in pain no longer, now that you are here," he said to her. "I never dreamed that you would feel this way about me. I never dreamed that you would submit to my fucking you so easily. I never dreamed that..
But he stopped talking, because he could feel her hand rubbing over his crotch, and he could feel the way his cock was starting to respond.
She massaged him gently, at first, and then, as he was getting thicker, she did it just the slightest bit harder.
Maria pulled his zipper down, and then pulled the thick, amazing organ out of his pants. She kissed the head of it gently with her lips, then started to open her mouth wide so she could take more of it in.
"Ach, to feel a woman willingly doing something like this to me is better than anything I have felt in the longest time."
She rubbed him against her cheek, and smiled at him.
"Why? Have there been no women since your wife?"
"I did not say that," he told her. "There have been. And there still are, others in this house, who are relatives of soldiers who experimented on me. I have to do what I am doing, because it is the only way I can live with myself."
She started to suck on that enormous shaft again, and she could take the whole thing in her throat, and hold it there.
Meanwhile, he was stroking her breasts with his hand, but she knew that he could not feel with it He moved the hand down to her cunt and started to massage her lips, then found her clit and massaged it.
"I want to lick you, too," he said to her.
She lay down on her side, much the same way she had done so with her husband, too many times for her to remember.
He moved his mouth between her legs and started to lick her, and as he did, he was towering over her, and rubbing his hard-on against her lips. She opened her mouth and took him in as deep as she could.
He started to thrust in and out of her mouth, and she loved the taste that she could taste in his cock.
She also loved the feeling of his tongue in her cunt. He seemed to know just what to do in order to turn her on.
He could wiggle her clit back and forth with skills that she had never thought imaginable, and then, when she would feel like she was about to come, he'd suck hard so that the juices would flow rapidly.
He knew so many variations to his tonguing technique, and was so persistent when it came to making her come over and over again, that she thought she was going to pass out from exhaustion, but somehow, managed to hold on.
After the fourth orgasm of hers which she counted, she could feel the way his huge shaft was starting to pulsate in her mouth.
She knew that it might crack her jaw open, because it was open as wide as possible without the pulsations, but she was determined to swallow all the come that he had to give. When it started to pump into her mouth, it tasted so sweet.
He pulled himself up a little bit, and she" could taste the rest of it shooting onto her tongue. She flicked her tongue back and forth over the tip of his cock, and she could hear his moaning, muffled between her legs.
As he rolled off her and lay on his back, she could see that her juices were still on his chin, and she moved her lips there and licked them off.
She licked his lips with her own, and smiled at him.
"You should never call yourself a half-man again, because you are really one and a half times the normal man."
He smiled at her, and there was something beautiful to the way he looked.
He stood up, with a great deal of difficulty, and poured himself another drink.
"And now I think we should talk," he said to her. "We should talk seriously about what is to happen between us next."
"What do you mean by that?" she asked him.
"I could let you go, if you wanted to, but only if you would promise never to tell anyone what I am doing. Or, I could keep you a prisoner here, so that I would be sure you would never tell anyone what I am doing."
"Are there any other choices?" she asked him.
"Yah. You could stay here and help me. I know that what I am doing is not necessarily right, but I cannot help it. There were many people who abused me. I know that getting even with the relatives of those people cannot help to change what already is, but it can do something positive."
"Will you tell me what that is before I decide?" she asked him.
"If I can remind all those people living, of what their relatives did, then there will be enough people to make sure that it never happens again. Did you know that there is still, in this United States of America, a Nazi Party, and that they are growing stronger and stronger each year?"
He walked behind a screen and she could hear him making some kind of noises. She did not know what he was doing.
"But do you think that it could ever become strong enough to rise in power?" she asked him, as she sipped at her wine.
"I don't know, but I don't even want to risk it. If enough people would join, then of course they could rise in power again."
And after a few more minutes, he stepped out from behind the screen.
He was, as she had first seen him, and she tried not to look shocked.
He had taken off the legs, and the arms, in favor of the leather bands with the claws and spikes sticking out from them.
"I have some business to attend to with some young lady," he said to her. "Your clothes are behind the screen. The door is down the hall to your left, then down the stairs. If you decide that you want to leave, you may, but if you do, please promise me that you will not tell anyone what is going on here.
"If you are here when I return, then I promise to love you as I have never loved any other woman in my life."
And after he said that, she watched him walking out of the room. She could hear the strange sounds of footsteps, which, she had wondered about before ever hearing the in. Now that she knew what they were coming from, they didn't bother her.
As Gustaf walked toward the room where the blonde girl was, he couldn't help but have some hopes that Maria would still be there when he returned to his study. If so, then she would most surely want to help him finish what he had started. If not, then he would have regrets for a few days, but still carry on.
He pushed the door open, and could see the naked blonde girl. He had set her up in such a way so that he could tower above her.
The lower half of her body was tied to the ground, with her arms behind her back.
The rest of her body, from the breasts up, lay on a platform, and he had set up the platform so that he could walk up on it.
As he did, he could see just how large her breasts were. They had to be two of the biggest tits he'd ever seen in his life.
Slowly, he lowered his stump onto one of .them, and he dug the spike in just a little bit. He could hear the girl letting out a faint groan.
"Wake up, you bitch," he said to her.
He tried to remember what she had been given to make her unconscious, but he just couldn't, for there were too many girls for him to remember. He moved his claw to her hair and tugged on it.
He could see that she was clenching her teeth, as if, in a dream-like state, she thought that she was feeling pain being afflicted on her person.
"Wake up," he said to her.
But the girl was dreaming. She was dreaming of her father, and wished that he would die, because of the things that he had done to her.
She knew that he was demented, for her mother had told her so.
"That is what happens when you are involved in a war, and are working directly in the front lines," her mother had said.
"You're a fool," Chris, the young blonde, had said to her mother. "If you think you can justify all the shit he pulls by telling me that, you're a fool."
She had seen the way her father had abused her mother, sticking spikes and needles into her body, and causing the woman to scream in bloody terror. Of course, the woman would always be rewarded with his cock, which she seemed to think was reward enough to warrant all the shit he pulled on her.
But when the man started to abuse Chris, she wouldn't take it.
Once, when he had tied her up and was getting ready to stick a spike through her nipple, she had managed to raise her foot and kick him right in the groin.
While he had doubled over in pain, she had freed herself, and then she had smashed a bottle over his head.
He had been rushed to the hospital, where he had survived.
But during those crucial hours when the doctors were not sure whether he would live or not, her mother had accused her of murder.
"I swear that I will see you behind bars if you have killed him."
"You're the biggest ass-hole in the world. One would think that if you were normal, you'd be happy that he's here, and hope that he never comes out. Instead, you love him. I know what it is. I know what it is."
Her mother had been ready to slap her, but-Chris had slapped her mother first.
And the woman had smiled, just slightly, but it was enough to prove the girl's point.
"You are a masochist," she said to her. "You love the pain that father inflicts. You married him because you must have known what he was doing, and you love to feel pain. You are as sick as he is."
"There is nothing wrong with pain," her mother had said to her.. "Pain is just as important as pleasure. They work hand in hand."
"Jesus, Christ, I don't know who ever told you that, but whoever did should be shot," the girl had said to her mother.
"One day, you will learn to make pain your pleasure," the woman said back.
And now, even though her head was groggy, she could feel some kind of pain. It was almost as if her father was pressing a spike into her breast, and she wanted to kick him where it hurt again.
In her dreamy state, she started to kick her legs up, and it was only then that she discovered they were bound at the ankles.
That bastard, she kept thinking. That tucking bastard.
She tried to pull her hands free, but he had tied them tightly behind her back, tighter than ever, in fact, because when she pulled at them, she didn't think that she would be able to pull her hands free this time.
And the bonds were cutting into her wrists, and making her choke back her pain.
Slowly, she started to open her eyes, so that she could look at him.
Her vision was blurry at first, so she couldn't see right away, but when she did see the half-man that was in front of her, she started to laugh.
She felt the spike cutting deeper into her flesh, but she couldn't stop laughing, even though the pain was more intense than it had ever been before.
For she couldn't see his face right away, and if she had, she might not have laughed.
Chris was laughing at this thing, which she thought was her father. She thought that someone had gotten to him first, and wished that she would have been the one. At any rate, this was what he deserved. To have his limbs severed.
But then, she looked up and saw the evil face looking down at her...
CHAPTER SIX
She continued to scream as he moved his claw down onto her breast, and she could see that it was his leg, or what had once been his leg.
"Please, have mercy," she started to scream at him.
And then, he pulled away from her and started to climb down the plank, so that he was between her legs.
Down there, at least, Gustaf knew, she couldn't laugh at him.
He looked at her cunt, which he had shaved, and he could see her clit. He had a desire to rip his claw right through it, and tear it to shreds.
But there was pain in his eyes.
No one had ever laughed at him like that before, and he was feeling terrible about it. To bring her so much pain, without actually finding out why she had laughed, would be senseless, he thought, but she had to learn.
He raised up his claw, and rammed it into her cunt, scratching at her cunt walls so that when he pulled it back down. She could see the claw was covered with the blood from inside of her cunt.
"Christ, please don't," she started to scream. "I beg of you."
"You're an evil bitch," he screamed up at her. "You and your father are both the epitome of evil. Feel that."
And he dug the claw into her again, this time, ripping at the skin, so that when he pulled it out, there was blood and skin on his claw that time. He could see it slowly trickling from her pussy.
"My father," she started to say, and she could barely get the words out.
He stopped then, and he could hear her breathing rate slowing down as she managed to catch her breath.
He stayed down near her cunt for a few seconds, because he did not know if he could face her again. He did not know if he wanted her to see his eyes, which seemed to be filled with wetness from oncoming tears.
It was times like this that he wished he had hands, like a normal man.
If he had, he could wipe the tears away.
And also, if he had hands, he could masturbate. That was something he had always wished for. He wanted to know what it felt like to touch his own cock, because ever since they had done this to him, he forgot what it felt like just to hold it.
He waited a second, then started to walk back up the ramp, so that he was on the board in front of her.
Chris looked at him then, and she started to smile.
He could see that she was not really looking at all of him, but, like most of the others, she was looking at that one whole part of him.
He could feel his cock getting stiffer as she looked at it, and he knew that he could have rammed it right down her throat then. She seemed hungry for it.
And the fact was, Chris did want that cock.
She had only been with three boys, and all those times, it had been oral sex. She had loved the taste of the cock from the very first time she had it, and the one in front of her had to be the most beautiful one she had ever seen.
As he walked closer to her, she stuck her tongue out.
He pulled back a little bit, and leered at her.
"You want this?" he asked her, and he knew that she did. But the thing was, he wanted to hear her say it first.
"Yes," she said. "I could make it come for you. I could make you come faster than anyone else has. I know that I could."
"That is a statement that could get you into trouble."
"Who are you?" she asked him, and she looked really puzzled.
"Why did you laugh at me?" he asked her, and they stared at each other. He moved his claw back to her breast, and stepped onto it. Her tits were so fleshy, that he knew he could pierce his way deep into one, and she still wouldn't feel all that much pain because of all the flesh.
"I asked you a question," he said to her. "You might have asked me one, too, but I want mine answered first. Why did you laugh at me?"
"I'm sorry I did," she said, and he could see a tear forming in her eyes. "I just thought that . . . thought that you were...."-What?"
"My father." she said to him. spitting .out the words with hatred. "My fucking bastard of a father. I thought you were him."
"Orst Miller." he said to her, and when she heard the name, she gasped.
"How did you know who I was talking about?" she asked him. "How do you know his name? If you do know his name, then you must know mine."
"Chris," he said to her. "Of course I know yours. Do you think that I would go to all this trouble and not know it?"
She was starting to tremble then, and he could even see that there was a bead of sweat rolling down her neck, and between her breasts. He attributed that sweat to her fear, and loved the fact that even in his state, he could inflict fear in a person.
"I laughed at you," she said slowly, "because when I felt a claw in my breast, I thought that it was my father doing it. He does it to me sometimes, and I hate it. Then, when I opened my eyes and saw you, I thought you were he, and that someone had cut off his arms and legs. I didn't mean to laugh at you. I meant to laugh at him, because that is just what he deserves."
"Ah, at least you and I agree on something," Gustaf said to her.
"How do you know what he does to me?" the girl asked him.
"I knew nothing of what he does to you. I know what he did to me, and that is all that I can account for."
She looked horrified, as she thought that her father was the one responsible for this man being in such a sorry state.
Gustaf could tell by the expression on her face that she was confused, and so, he decided to explain it all to her.
He told her how he had been a prisoner back in one of the camps, and how her father had been one of the soldiers working there. Although he didn't know for sure of Orst Miller was one of the men who severed a limb, he knew that the man was there the day it happened, which made him as guilty as the one with the saw.
"If I had known what he did to you, I would have seen to it that I killed him," the girl said to him, and he smiled.
"Why? Did you ever make an attempt to kill him?"
Chris started to tell him all about what had happened that day, after she had freed herself from his bonds, and had broken the bottle over his head.
"I did it just so that he wouldn't hurt me anymore. I didn't even think of trying to kill him, although I hoped that he would die when they had to rush him to the hospital. Now, I wish that he had died. He is an evil man."
And suddenly, Gustaf had an idea. He thought that maybe this girl, who hated her father more than he seemed to hate the man, might be able to make her wish come true. He had learned many things about brainwashing, because he had witnessed it happening to many people in the camps.
He started to move closer to her, and he began to rub his cock against her lips, ever so gently, so she could know what he tasted like.
She moaned softly, and flicked her tongue out over the head of it.
But he pulled back, just slightly, so that she couldn't touch him.
"You really do hate him, don't you?" he asked her.
"Yes," she said. "Now please, move closer to me. I want to be able to taste you in my mouth. I want to be able to taste you between my lips. Please, I beg you to come closer to me. Let me taste your come."
"Perhaps I will, and then again, perhaps I won't. Is your father home from the hospital yet? I would like to know that."
"I don't know. I don't know how long I've been here. On the day I last remember, he was supposed to be brought home. I cannot remember."
"You have only been here for a day, which means that he must be home. Do you think that he will be well enough to walk right away?"
He could see the hungry look in her eyes, and he rubbed his cock over her breast, but that was too low down for her to reach it with her tongue. He could see a drop of his come on her nipple, left there after he pulled back.
"Answer my question," he said to her. "Do you think he will be able to walk?"
"I don't know," she said, and she longed for him more.
She could smell the strong odor of sex, which she had smelled the first time she'd ever taken Ryan Jennings out back, arid went down on him.
At first, she hadn't smelled it at all, but then, as he had been thrusting in and out of her mouth, and the heat of the sun caused him to sweat, she had smelled something in his pubic patch, which was a most pleasant fragrance.
She had taken his cock deep in her throat, just because she had adored the smell so much, and by taking him in deep, she could bury her nose in the thick tangle of hair that was surrounding his cock.
When he had started to come, and she'd tasted the luscious cream for the first time in her life, she could smell it, stronger than ever.
He told her later that it always happened when he got turned on. It was the male sex odor, and some women were stimulated by it.
She smelled it on this man now in front of her, and it was making her head spin.
But she wanted him enough to think as hard as she could, and it seemed to her that she could remember the doctor coming out in the waiting room and telling them . . .
"No," she said to the man. "If I remember right, the doctor came out and told my mother that he would have to stay in bed for a few days."
"Very good," he said to her. "Very good memory. Can you remember more?"
"More," she said, and she was dying to taste him now. "More."
"Yes. Was he put on any medication? Do you know about that?"
He was still rubbing his cock against her breasts, and she thought that she could see the way he was starting to pulsate, just a little bit.
She could see the way there was another drop of come at the head of his cock, and she wanted him more and more. She had to taste him.
"I think he said...." she started to say, and the man with the claws grabbed her by the hair, and pulled as hard as he could.
"Do not think he said something. Do not think it. Know for sure. Think about it and tell me for sure. I have to know."
As he got more upset, she could see that his body was sweating. She knew that the pubic hair would give off a more fragrant, stronger scent when he sweated that way, and she loved the fact that it was happening. She loved it more than she had ever loved anything in her life, for it was the perfect cock.
She thought as hard as she could, wanting to close her eyes to remember, but not wanting to close them because he could disappear, any second.
"Yes," she said to him. "There was some medication. Some kind of pills that my mother is supposed to give him for the next few days."
"Wonderful," the man said, and he moved his claws together, almost as if he was clapping his hands together. "Wonderful. What kind of medication?"
She could not believe he was asking her all those things. With some of the people she went out, she had gotten into taking pills, and she never even cared what they were. She was just handed one, and she'd down it fast.
So how could he expect her to remember what they would be?
He was dangling his cock in front of her mouth then, and she opened her mouth as wide as she could, and stuck out her tongue even longer than before, so that it was touching the underside of his cock.
He moved a little bit closer, and she closed her lips around it. But she couldn't get him to move closer, and all she had was his cock head between her lips.
"Are they capsules?" he started to ask her. "Is it a liquid medicine? I just want to know that. What are they?"
"I don't know," she said, and she could hardly even say the words since his cock was in her mouth, but she still managed to get them out.
"All right then," he said to her, and he hopped closer to her.
He started to thrust his cock in and out of her mouth, amazed at the magical quality that it had on women.
She hardly even looked at him, but kept her eyes down on the shaft. He could see a look of delight in her face each time he pulled back, and she saw how much thicker his shaft was getting, and how much wetter it was getting, too. because of all the saliva from her own mouth.
She did have a good technique, he thought, but nothing he hadn't felt before.
She flicked her tongue all along the underside of his cock as he moved it deeper into her mouth, and then, when he would start to pull back, she would be flicking her tongue over the head, where he was the most sensitive.
At one point, he thought that he was going to come, but then, something happened, and he just lost the sensation to shoot off.
He knew why, after a few seconds. He knew that he would not come in her mouth unless she agreed to do what he wanted.
"Tell me something," he said to her. "You broke a bottle over his head once, so would you be willing to exterminate him in a much more simple way?"
She looked at him, and the thought of knowing that her father would die made her smile around his cock, so broadly, that he couldn't miss it.
All she could think about then, was being without him, and not having to take the tortures that he was used to dealing out. She could think of her mother, maybe mourning for a few days, but certainly getting over it when she would learn that there was much more to life than getting tortured.
She thought about the disappointment in her face, too. when she had learned that her father was still alive in the hospital.
"Yes," she managed to say, and her flicking tongue started to work against the rim of his cock, right under the head.
He could feel the fierce pulsations happening again, but it was not so much because of what she was doing, which was nice, but because of the pleasure he could feel in knowing that he would personally be responsible for the death of one of those bastards who had abused him past the point of abuse.
He started to pulsate hard, and he could feel her tongue flicking back and forth over the head of his cock.
The come shot onto her tongue, and she moaned loud as she started to drink it all down. She was more than content with this load, and there was much more than she ever would have thought there'd be anyway.
She kept sucking on him. long after the come had stopped shooting out, and he loved that look in her eyes.
And since he had passed his orgasmic peak, his head was more together then, and he was able to speak with her reasonably.
"I have a poison," he said to her. "It is something that I have been working on for the longest time. I got the idea back in the camp. Maybe your father could have even been the originator of it."
She said nothing, but just kept holding onto his cock, with her teeth. She was not cutting into him, but by holding him with her teeth, she was able to open and close her lips around the shaft, kissing it gently.
"Just a drop of this poison is enough to kill a man, slowly, but surely. It cannot be detected, either, by the police, by doctors, or by anyone else. If I would give you some and let you go. would you put some into your father's medicine, and then give him the pill. It can be any kind of pill. Just take the poison and dab it onto the pill, or if it's a capsule, fill it with the stuff. Would you do it?"
She let his cock fall from her mouth, and then she started to laugh.
At first, it was almost the same kind of laughter that he had heard from her when she woke up. and it bothered him.
But then, she started to lick her lips.
"I would just remember you, and what he did to you, and that would make me do it in a second. I would even stand by his bed and watch him choke, slowly. I would sit, even if it took hours, just to make sure that he was dead. And then. I would call you and tell you that he is no longer living."
"You would do all that for me?" he asked her. and he couldn't help but start to laugh about it himself.
"All of that and more. I would come to visit you, to see that you are getting on all right, if you would allow it."
He thought about Maria, and remembered that she might be waiting for him back in his office. If she was, then he knew that he would need no visits from Chris, but if she was not, then it would be nice to have her come by.
He thought that it might be fun to have both of them, but his feelings for Maria were strong, and he knew that she wouldn't like the idea of another girl. He could not blame her, either. She was the kind of woman who like to devote herself to one man.
After all, she had wasted all those years on Keir, when she could have been out enjoying herself with other men.
"I will let you know if you can come and visit me," he said to her, as he started to walk down the plank, so that he could untie the bonds that held her hands. "But in the meanwhile, you will wait here, and I shall get, your clothes, and the poison."
He was about to free her, when he hesitated.
"First, swear to me that you will kill him," he said to her.
"I swear. Look, you need not question me any further. I would have killed him anyway, eventually, and with this poison that you say you have, it will make things so much easier.
Perhaps you hate him more than I do, but I'm not sure. I've lived with him for eighteen years, while you were only with him...."
"Long enough to know that there is not one ounce of good in that man," he said, and he started to pull the final string to free her bound wrists.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Maria looked through the peephole on the door, and she could see him carrying out one of his hideous tortures on a naked girl.
The girl's hands were bound tightly with a thick cord, except, she noted that there was some kind of variation in that her hands had been tied in front of her body. Of course, she was still his prisoner, and could not pull free from the wretched bonds.
He had her down on the stone floor, face down, so that she was lying on her bound hands. Her hair was a light brown color, and the look on her face reeked of horror as Gustaf's clawed hand was pulling at her hair.
He was straddling over her, with his leather bound spiked stumps. His cock was sticking out of the jock strap, pointing down at the girl's mouth.
"Suck it," he was screaming at her. "Suck it. It was your father who was one of the men who made me look like this."
"I will not pay for the sins of my father," Ingrid screamed at him.
He dug his claw into her back, and Maria stepped away from the door for a second because it was too horrid to watch what was happening, and hear the screams at the same time that the girl's back was bleeding.
Even as she stood in the hall watching, she could still hear the scream, and it made her blood run cold.
When it subsided, she built up enough nerve to move back to the peephole and look through. She wondered why Gustaf had told her she was allowed to watch if she wanted to, but then, she started to think about it.
Had he told her never to walk down the halls while he was doing his work, she knew that her curiosity would have gotten the better of her, and that she would have went against his word, eventually.
He was smart enough to realize that, and so, he had told her that she could watch, if her stomach was strong enough.
She hadn't understood his last remark, until she had heard the girl scream.
Now, she could see that there was not such a large flow of blood, and that Gustaf hadn't really dug his claw in so deep.
The girl, too, had given in. The reason her scream had stopped, so Maria imagined, was because he had gotten her to submit. She was sucking away, hungrily, on that beautiful organ the half-man had between his legs.
For a second, she felt something that she could only think of as jealousy.
But she came to grips with it fast.
"If you watch," he had said to her, "you will see things that might make you jealous. But remember, that I am not feeling pleasure doing the things that I am doing. I am feeling vengeance, and feeling that this is my just revenge.
"With you, it is different. With you, I make love for pleasure. Remember that always, and the evil jealousy will subside within you."
She could see something that looked like a smile on his face, and she tried to keep thinking about what he had told her. He looked like he was enjoying himself, no matter what he had said, and she could see the steady rise and fall of his chest as he was moaning softly and thrusting harder.
The girl's tongue flicked out at his balls, tightly encased in the leather sack.
It was almost as if she was trying to feel if there were balls there, Maria thought, and she could understand the feeling.
Only once, in the week that she had been with him, had he taken off the leather jock strap so that she could see his balls. She knew, after that time, why he liked to keep them covered.
It wasn't so much the scars on the scrotal sack, from all the experiments, that made her stomach turn, as much as it was the scars all around the groin area. The only part of his groin area that remained beautiful and unscarred, was his dick, which was why he wore the kind of strap that he did. It covered every part of his groin but the strong, lovely shaft, so that only the best part of him showed.
She could hear the way the girl was gagging then, as Gustaf rammed himself deep in her throat and held her head, so that she couldn't pull her mouth back. Her saliva was starting to drip out of the side of her mouth.
Then, she saw the red color coming to his face, and thought that he must have been coming in the girl's mouth.
Maria couldn't bring herself to watch, and she ran down the hall toward the office where she could sit and wait for him.
She had sat in that office many hours, while he walked up and down the halls, checking up on the many prisoners that he had, and during that time, she had managed to read many of the papers that he kept unlocked in the file cabinet.
The first time she had noticed the cabinet, she had assumed that it was locked, since there was an area where he could put a key in and lock it. She had walked over and touched the handle, then pulled it open.
She had been shocked to discover that it wasn't kept locked, especially when she started to read some of the things that he kept on file.
There were detailed accounts of what he had done to whom, and other records of some of the soldiers who had been working in the camp on him, and where they were living now and what their families were like.
Maria had no idea how he had gotten hold of all this information, but it did make her aware of one thing.
This half-man had gone to great pains to get all this information, and it must have taken him years and years to compile the things that he had on file. It was only, according to the charts, during the last year, that he had started to get in touch with some of the daughters, in some way or other, and lure them into his hell hole.
She had been happy to read that there was not one account of death.
All he had done was torture these girls, and then send them out into the world, a little wiser about the horrors that there were to encounter in this insane world.
One of the files that she had read amazed her.
One girl, Inga, had known nothing about her father, and what he had done during the second world war, but Gustaf had made sure that the girl knew everything by the time she was ready to leave his home.
He had abused her sexually ripping at her insides with the claws, telling her that her father, the bastard, had done pretty much the same thing to him when he had been a prisoner in the camp. And the girl started to hate her father, and blamed him for all the Suffering that she had been put through. She had left Gustaf, telling him that she would never return home again.
The thought of living with a man as evil as her father was more than she could bear, and she was going to try and make a new life for herself.
Then, there had been the girl named Chris.
Chris had been worked over the day that Maria had first been taken to the study, and after Gustaf had come into the study (after working her over), he had been so happy to sec Maria still waiting for him.
But before he had done anything to her, he had gone and sat and his typewriter, writing down something.
Then, he had gotten up and had walked toward the door, carrying a small vial of some clear fluid. She had glanced at what he'd written while he was out of the room, and she had been shocked to read of the plan.
It seemed that he was giving Chris Miller position, so that she could kill her father when she returned home later that day.
He had come back into the room a few seconds later, and caught her reading the card. Rather than being angry, he had just smiled.
"I left it there for a reason, Maria. If you are to stay here, you will know a lot of things that are happening. I wanted you to read what was on the card, so you will understand the way I am working, and for what purpose I am working."
"Will she really kill her father?" she asked him.
"She says she will, and at the present, I have no reason in the world to doubt her."
Maria had started to shake. The idea of murder was foul to her, but then, Gustaf started to tell her some of the things he had seen while he was a prisoner in the Nazi camp, and all of those things were more foul then a simple murder.
Then, to calm her down, he had started to make love to her.
That was the way he always seemed to calm her down, when she would get upset, or at least it had been that way for the past week.
And she loved it. As he licked" her red ' nipples, and she felt the way they stiffened under the touch of her tongue, she could always feel her insides getting wet with the anticipation of his fucking her.
He would suck her entire body, before entering her, kissing her here and licking her there, so that her flesh was nice and wet.
He would eat her cunt for hours, too, never seeming to want to stop.
She loved that most of all. He could make her come so many times in a row, and then, after one orgasm, he would continue, licking out the juices from that one and sucking more, so that she would be sent through the throes of another one, until they were both moaning, and sometimes, he would moan louder than she would.
It was not only because of the taste of her juices, she knew, but there was more to it. She did not like him to work her over, without working him over at the same time, and there was not a cock more perfect in the world than his.
More times than not, she would lick it, rather than suck it, because she adored the way it looked, and in sucking it, she wouldn't get to see it as plainly as she would if she just held her hand at the base and ran her tongue up and down the shaft.
Of course, she would suck it on occasion, because that turned him on much more than her licking did, although she had discovered, by running her tongue along the underside of the rim of his cock, he would get turned on a great deal, almost as much as he would when he was fucking her face and pressing the head of his cock into her throat.
That was a feeling she loved, too. When he pressed his cock head deep into her throat, she could always inhale deeply and take in the strong scent of his manhood.
It would always send waves of pleasure through her head, and they in turn would start wandering through her body.
She knew it worked in a kind of cycle, and always wondered if it worked the same way for him. The cycle went something like this.
She could get turned on by sucking him, and knew that she was even capable of coming without his even doing anything to her. But that was never the case, for he loved to go down on her more than she seemed to love to go down on him. When she'd smell his scent, her passions would be raised even more, and then, she would start to come harder and he would love it more.
When he got turned on, and his passions were raised higher, then the scent of his sex would get stronger, and raise her passions more, and so on and so on, until there were times when she thought she'd pass out from pleasure.
It was always those times that made up for the other times.
Maria liked to think of them as the evil times, such as the one she had just encountered, watching him with the girl, and forcing the girl to pay for the sins of her father. Evil was the only word she could think of to call it.
Evil was what Chris Miller had carried out on her father, because two days later, he had gotten a call, and then he had gone to her file and had pulled it out.
Later, when Maria had looked at it, she had seen a note written.
"Father: dead. Death by poison. The girl has carried out her promise, and the death has occurred faster than I ever thought it would."
She had felt such chills running through her body as she read it, but somehow, she managed to compose herself.
And that was how it had been throughout most of the week that she was there.
Each night, she could, climb into bed with him, and make mad passionate love to him. While that went on, she would forget about everything else that had been happening, all the evil, and concentrate on only the good, and the pleasure that he brought to her.
Some nights, after he had come inside of her, and lay sleeping soundly next to her, she would sit up thinking.
Maria knew she could end it all. She could free all the girls and then kill him, and there would be no more evil.
It would be so easy to kill him while he slept, for he wore none of his artificial limbs when he was sleeping, and a pillow over his face would be enough to smother him. He would kick and scream for a few seconds, but she would hold that pillow there until a lifeless form lay next to her.
Sometimes, she wondered if it was God's will that she carry out such a mission.
Then, she would look at him, sleeping peacefully, and think that there was such good in this man. There was evil, too, but she knew that she had to come to grips with it. If someone had done to her, what had been done to him, she knew that she would feel evil, too, and want her revenge.
And what had been his crime anyway, he always asked her.
"That I was not a member of the Aryan race. That was all. That I was not a pure bred German. That I was of another religion. I did not even practice my religion, but since I was born into it, that was all that mattered."
And she knew that what he was saying was the truth, because she had been married to one of his enemies, a long time ago, and she had heard some of the slurs he would make about those pigs in the camps.
"They're not even good enough to shit on," Keir would tell her, and he would be saying those things while thrusting in and out of her.
She could remember many nights, hearing the most disgusting details of things that he had done, while he was trying to turn her on to make love to her. He would be licking her, and he would make some comment, and she could never understand it. All those comments did was make her blood run cold, and if he was trying to turn her on and make her hot, he was just defeating his own purpose.
Once, she had told him so, and he had slapped her.
He had been eating her cunt, and as he did, he had told her about one of the girls there, and how she had had some kind of infection inside of her, which, they let spread so that they could do tests on her.
"But by the time we were ready to do the tests," Keir had said, "no one even wanted to look at her. She was horrendous to look at, and the thought of even touching all those scabs made my stomach turn."
"And what do you think is happening to my stomach now?" she asked him. "I can feel it turning. Please, speak of this no longer."
Then, he had slapped her.
"It is my work, and you should know some things about it."
And then, he had moved his mouth back to her cunt, and he had started to eat her again, licking and sucking, and making her come, mildly.
At the time, however, she didn't even know that the feelings she felt were just mild orgasms. She had thought that was as far as her body coulct take her. She had thought she was not capable of reaching a real high, or that the high she was reaching was all that there was to coming.
It was not until she had been with Gustaf that she knew what her body was really capable of, and how many times she could come in a row.
Keir was the kind of man who would eat her cunt, and make her feel that he was doing her a big favor by licking her. And then, when she would start to come, she would feel him sucking the juices out, and then he would pull his head back, as if the one orgasm was enough to satisfy her, because the one mouthful of juices that he had sucked from her were enough to satisfy him.
Gustaf was not like that at all. He would make her come over and over again, sometimes to the point where she was begging him to fuck her already, because she had had enough oral orgasms, and wanted to feel her muscles spasming tightly around his rock hard cock.
And that, she knew, was why she could never kill him.
The' third night that she had been there, he had made a special dinner. She was amazed at how well he could get along with his artificial limbs, enough to serve a meal and then clean the dishes afterwards.
But during the meal, he had poured two glasses of wine, and then, as he looked into her eyes, he had made a toast.
"To the only woman who I've ever loved," he said, smiling.
"What about your wife?" she asked him, realizing that she was breaking the mood, but wanting to know about that anyway.
"I have known you longer than I have known my wife," he said to her. "To be honest with you, the marriage was arranged by our families. I did not know her until the day that we were married, so we only had a few hours together."
She remembered the story that he had told her. about how the Gestapo had broken into their room on the night of his honeymoon.-
"Then that first night you were together was..."
"The same day that we met. But I knew that I was going to be married to this woman for a long time, or I thought that I would be, so I decided, as we took our vows, that no matter what, I would love her.
"Seeing the soldiers abusing her the way that they did was more than I could stand, and seeing the way they killed her when they were finished abusing her was also terrible. I still have nightmares about it. She was the first woman I had loved, but the love lasted for only a few hours."
By that time, the love he was feeling for her, had only gone on a few days, but her heart went out to him even more.
And some other nights, when she sat up in the bed, wondering if he was more good than evil, thinking that it might be wise to kill him and put him out of his misery, she would start to feel something for him, that she knew was pity.
She was still unsure as to whether or not she loved him. She knew that he was the best man in bed she had been with, even though she had only had two, but sex and love were two completely different things.
Sometimes she thought that she loved him, and at other times, she thought that it was not love at all, but pity.
For how could a woman love a man who would torture a girl, such as the way she had seen him torturing the girl a few minutes before?
A woman would have to be some kind of masochist to love a man like that.
She closed her eyes and thought about what it had been like, when she had first come to see him, and had found herself bound, naked in a room. When she had felt the claws moving up her body, digging into her flesh, there had been such pain, that she thought she was going to die.
And then, when she had seen him. and seen what had become of this man, she had immediately felt some pity, instead of the pain.
She had also felt the pleasure, for his cock had been hard, and it had been rubbing against her leg all that time, moving closer and closer to her cunt.
Maybe, she thought to herself, I would not love him so much, or pity him, if he did not have a cock like the one he had.
She had seen the way he'd used it on many girls, and they all seemed as hypnotized by it as she had been.
Then, she started to think about something else, and it was the first time that she had ever thought about it with him.
Was he sterile?
She knew that Keir had been, and it had been his downfall. Keir had become sterile working with radiation, and so, she assumed, if Gustaf had been a prisoner, kept in a room where they worked with the same radiation, he must have been sterile, too.
But there was always a chance that he was not. A cock as large and proud as his could still have working sperm in it.
The thought of being a mother and having a child by him was like a blanket of warmth that just covered her completely.
She knew she could love him always, if he would make her pregnant.
And then, she could hear the strange sound of his footsteps, coming down the hall, closer to the study where she was sitting.
"I think that the girl has realized all the wrong her father has done now," he said to" her, as he walked behind the screen where he kept his artificial limbs.
"Will you let her go then?" she asked him.
"Yah, in a few more days. She still has things to learn."
Maria could feel the jealousy raging inside of her. One second ago, he had said that she had realized all the wrong, and now, he still wanted to keep her. Did that mean he wanted her for his own private passions?
She managed to get a hold of herself, and was smiling when he walked out from behind the screen, as tall as a normal man, because of the limbs.
"Will you tell me something?" she asked him, and he nodded. "Do you think that it is possible for you and I to have a child together?"
"I don't see why not," he told her. "It could have happened already."
"But. . . well...I know that my husband was sterile because of the tests with radiation, and if you were there...."
"I do not think you have anything to worry about," he smiled at her. "Somehow, I managed to avoid all that. I know that I am still fertile. I know it for a fact, because once, about a year back, I did get a girl pregnant.-
She had an abortion, but where there is an abortion, there is a man who can cause pregnancies."
He saw the way that Maria started to smile, and it made him happy.
There was nothing in the world that he wanted, more than to keep that smile on her face all the time. After all, he could not remember the last time he had sensed such affection from a woman.
CHAPTER EIGHT
She could feel his mouth at her nipple, and he was making it as stiff as he always did when he licked her.
Maria had been with him for over three months now, and she was beginning to suspect that he had been lying to her.
After all, there had been so much time in which she could have become pregnant.
Not a night went by when she did not let him fuck her, and each time that she did, all she would think about was the come pouring into her. She loved the taste of it in her mouth, almost as much as she loved it in her cunt.
But ever since they had talked about having a child, she no longer let him come in her mouth, no matter how much he liked it.
She didn't want that to happen, because she knew she would be thinking about all the sperm, and how that sperm could be fertilizing the eggs inside of her body.
Maria had kept records of when she would have her period, and it was during the weeks before it, that she knew she was the most fertile. It was during those weeks, too, that she would have him fuck her at least twice a night, because two loads meant that there was twice the chance that it could happen.
She felt his hardness rubbing against her thigh as she felt his tongue moving to her other nipple, and her cunt was getting wet.
At least that much had not changed about him, she thought. At least he still had the ability to bring her sexual pleasure, something which she began to realize, Keir could not do after a few months of marriage.
She compared this relationship with her first marriage, only because this was the second time she had ever been with a man who claimed to love her.
And she knew, now, that she had been faking it alt those times with Keir, once the war had ended, and his attitude toward her had changed. Perhaps, she told herself, she just didn't want to come to grips with the fact that her husband probably didn't love her any longer, but she didn't know if that was it.
As Gustaf started to lick his way down her legs, she moved her hands to his head, and accidentally touched one of the spikes on the crown that he always wore.
"Shit," she said, as she felt the blood and pulled her finger to her mouth.
"What is it?" he asked, raising his head.
"Why must you wear that thing when we are in bed?" she asked him. "I just cut myself on the top of it."
"You know that I always wear it, and you must be aware of it at all times. I could never take it off, because then...."
"What?" she asked him.
They had never talked about his head piece before, even though she had always been rather curious about it. She had asked him about it once, as she recalled, the second day that he had been there, and she remembered the anger that had come from him.
It was something that he seemed too sensitive about to deal with, and so, she had told him she wasn't really interested in knowing after all.
She looked at him then, his chin resting on her belly, his torso between her legs so she could feel some of his chest pressing against her wet cunt lips. He looked like he was about to cry, but then, he bit his lower lip.
"You are curious about this head piece, are you not?" he asked her.
"Wouldn't you be if you were with someone as long as I have been with you, and you knew nothing about why she was wearing it?"
"It holds my head together," he said to her, and she didn't know if she should laugh or cry when he said it.
She stared at him, with a look of disbelief, which he could easily read.
"You do not believe me then?" he asked her.
"I honestly don't know what to say. I don't know what you mean by it."
"Exactly what the words said. They not only picked at my arms and legs, but even more, at my brains. They were trying to take me apart, and they had to put this thing back on my head to put me back together."
She opened her mouth and gasped. It all seemed so unreal.
"Now that you know, are you content?" he asked her.
"Yes. I'm sorry that I even had to ask you. I know that it pains you to talk about it, and so, let's forget all about it."
"But you would have wanted to know some day, so I imagine it's better that we talked about it now. I do love you, Maria. Believe me."
And then, he moved his tongue down to her navel and started to lick it. She could feel the heat that was starting to burn inside of her, but it was not as great as it would usually be. She was beginning to understand why.
As they got to know more and more about each other, there, seemed to be a hell of a lot more tension between them. It was almost as if he thought that by revealing his secrets to her, she might use them against him.
And sometimes, she thought that she might, which scared her.
She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the feeling of his mouth between her legs, and yet, she just couldn't seem to bring herself to get into it. She thrust her cunt upwards against his face, and let out a moan, that she knew was as fake as the limbs that he put on sometimes.
Her cunt started to get a little bit wet, however, and that was enough to make him think that he was doing her a service.
But she had to fake it even more then, for she could not stop thinking about that head piece, and just what his head must look like underneath it all.
She thought about the jock strap that he wore, and how she had regretted looking under it, but had been so curious, that she had to. After that one look at the scarred groin, she knew that her feelings had changed toward him, just a little bit.
She still loved the cock, but when she thought about the encased balls, she "just couldn't bring herself to love them, too.
He said they had done work on his head.
Maria started to wonder if he was crazy or not, then. For a while, he had convinced her that everything he was doing was for the good of the world.
But more and more, as she'd watch him carrying out his painful tortures on the girls, she was starting to think something else.
She remembered what Keir had done to her. How he would tie her up and whip her, and then deny that it had even happened, possibly because he didn't want her to know, or maybe even more so, because he didn't want to lace the reality that he was a born sadist. He was. she knew, for she had heard from Gustaf things that he did.
Only a man with a pure, evil sadistic streak could have beat the girls the way she learned her husband did, and chopped off limbs, and did all kinds of experiments to turn human beings into half-beings.
The vengeance that the Lord had gotten on Keir had come in the form of sterility.
He hadn't been able to handle the fact that he couldn't give her children, and so, he had slit his throat wide open.
When she watched Gustaf with the girls, she would think of Keir a lot.
Keir had tortured her at times, because he didn't have any other girls to torture. Of course, that was after the war had ended, and he was no longer working in the camps where he could abuse any prisoner he wanted to.
She was starting to think that Gustaf was using the girls to vent his own sadistic rage upon, and not really to teach them the lessons that he claimed to want to teach them. He seemed to be a born sadist, too.
She hated to think like that.' She liked to believe that he was as kind and loving as all the affection he showered on her seemed to warrant.
But each time she would think that way, she'd remember one of the girls, and the way he had stabbed his claw into her back, and then ripped the flesh open, all the way down the back. It was not a deep wound, deep enough to cause the girl to bleed, but she could hear the way the girl had screamed.
Then, there had been another girl, and Gustaf had set something up with a candle, right under her nipple. He had told Maria that he'd used this candle thing many times before, but that the girl he used it on the time she watched, was more stubborn than the others, and had even cursed at him.
And so, to get his revenge on that girl, he had let the candle burn for a longer time than usual, until her nipple was nothing but charred flesh. She had been screaming from the time the flame had started to burn her, until the time when it looked like there was no longer a nipple on her breast flesh.
Only a sadist could have done something like that, she thought.
There had been another girl, and she had seen the way he had been sticking pins into her flesh, and the smile on his face.
And of course, the thing that always confirmed the fact that it was turning him on, at least in her mind, was purely physical evidence.
Each time he would go to see those girls, his cock would be sticking out of the leather strap that he wore around his waist. He never failed to get himself hard as he would watch them struggle, and a hard cock was a sure sign of a turn-on, she knew.
There were times, she could recall, when he would be limp (but still a more than impressive size, even then), and after he would start to abuse a girl for a time, she could see the growth in the thickness and length of his cock.
It was so evident, even to her, who stood near the door, looking in through a small peephole, so she could see what he was doing.
Once, she had talked with him about it, but only once.
"Do you not feel some sort of pleasure as you torture these girls?" she'd asked.
"Of course not," he had screamed out at her. "How could you even imply something such as that? It's disgusting."
"I was just wondering because I have watched you, and I can see a smile on your face while you are doing it to them sometimes."
"A smile can be very deceiving," he had said to her, and he had smiled.
She had felt such cold chills running through her body then.
She had even been scared to bring up the physical side of it, but then, as he kept smiling, she decided to do it.
"But I have seen your cock getting harder when you are doing some of those things. I have seen it go from the limp state to the erect state, as you are inflicting pain into some of the girls. What could that mean?"
"That I love the look of a naked body, and a spread cunt," he said to her. "The girls have all been naked, have they not?"
"Yes," she said to him. "Every one of them has been naked."
"And sometimes, when you see pictures of naked men, does it not make you start to get wet inside? Does it not turn you on? Just the physical look?"
"Yes," she had admitted to him, for she knew that it did.
"Then there does not seem to be any reason to continue this conversation."
That was how it had ended, although she couldn't help but think that there was still a reason to continue the conversation.
Because, she kept thinking, she might get turned on by the look of a naked man, with a smile on his face, but if she would see a man bound in the way that Gustaf kept some of the girls bound, or groaning or screaming in pain, the way she had heard some of the girls scream, she would not get turned on.
If anything, she would get turned right off, and she would hate it, and want to help the man get free.
And of course, Gustaf never thought of letting the girls free, until they had learned their lesson well, he always said.
As he started to suck harder on her cunt, she couldn't help but think about what that girl Ingrid had said to him once.
"I do not feel I should pay for the sins of my father," she'd screamed, as she was bleeding in agonized pain.
Maria couldn't help but think that the girl was right. There was no reason why she should have to pay for something her father had committed, at a time when she probably hadn't even been born.
The man was dead. Why couldn't Gustaf content himself with that fact? The girl had nothing to do with what her father had done.
She knew that Gustaf would have an answer for that, however.
"Then it shall serve as a reminder for them, so that nothing like this will ever happen in the United States of America."
And at first, she had bought that excuse from him, but she wasn't buying it any longer, and with good reason.
As far as she was concerned, if someone had tortured her the way she saw some of these girls being tortured, she would agree with anything that the man said to her, just so he would let her go free.
But then, as soon as she was free, she would hate that man, and everything that he stood for. Thus, is the man was anti-Nazi, and he had tortured her, the first thing she might do when she got out of his hands, was to run and look for the nearest Nazi Party center, so that she could join up. She thought that she might even direct them toward this man's house, so that they could deal with him and kill him, the way the first Nazi Party had first set out to do it.
Her mind was torn with confusion, and she could feel the orgasmic waves beginning to overtake her. It was the first time, in a long time with him, that she had felt such powerful waves, strong enough so that she didn't think of anything but the hot flow of juices inside of her body.
She was loving it, not thinking about the tortures now, but only thinking about the way he was slurping at her, and the sucking sounds that he was making as he started to drink the juices she fed him.
Then, she could feel him making her come a second, and a third time, and she moved her hand down, just missing his head piece, and managed to find his cock, hard between his legs.
Maria started to rub it, and she could feel the way it was swelling-even more. She moved her finger to the tip of it and rubbed a drop of come all over the head, so that it was nice and lubricated, and brought him more pleasures.
She began to pull at his cock, and she could feel him adjusting his body on the bed, and sliding up her body, almost like a worm. After all, she kept thinking, he was only a stump of a man. Just the torso, and he didn't wear the artificial limbs to bed at night, because they were too uncomfortable.
For a seond, the thought of him entering her was nauseating to her.
But then, she could feel his hard cock rubbing between her legs, and she started to feel the way her pussy was responding. She moaned softly as she rubbed his code over her cunt lips, and then, he entered her.
She wrapped her legs around his buttocks, and felt his cock moving deep inside of her. She could feel the mounting pleasures.
"Oh, fuck me," she started to moan, and she could feel him moving his hips back and forth, so fast, that the full length of his cock was sliding over her clit, and making her spasm harder and harder.
And her walls were gripping to that beautiful shaft of his.
He moved his lips to hers, and she accepted his tongue so readily, sucking hard on it as he flicked it in and out of her mouth. She could hear his heavy breathing, and could feel the sweat of his chest as it pressed down against her breasts.
She started to run her hands up and down his back, which dripped with sweat, too.
When he first started to pulsate, she kept thinking that she wanted him to continue so that he could come already.
After all, she just wanted the sperm to fertilize her egg. The pleasures that she and he were feeling were only secondary. It was the pregnancy, the end result, which was all that was important to her.
But he did slow down anyway, and she hardly even realized that she had let out a groan of disdain when he did so.
He looked at her, and then he started to thrust again. The second time he felt the pleasure pulsations, he continued to thrust, until his cream was filling her, and she was letting out screams of joy.
But somehow, he could read into her, and he knew how important having a baby was to her. He knew that was the only reason why she was letting him fuck her now.
Maria thought it was all a secret, something that she could keep hidden from him for a long time to come. But, she kept thinking, over and over, if she didn't get pregnant within the next few weeks, she wasn't going to stay around too much longer.
CHAPTER NINE
Lily could feel the spikes cutting into the area below her breasts. The right one had already cut through the skin, and she could see a slow trickle of blood that was starting to run down her belly.
It ran over the leather belt, with the star-like belt buckle.
She didn't know how she had gotten herself into something like,, this, and all she could think about was getting herself out of it.
When she had first woke up, she had tried to rub her eyes, and only when she pulled at her hands, did she feel the cutting on her wrists. Her hands had been stretched out over her head, pulled far apart, and a loop like rope noose had been slid over each one of her wrists, and pulled tight.
She could hardly make out the apparatus that was just under her breasts, but after a few minutes, it all became clear to her.
They were wooden boards, and thick spikes had been driven through each board. They were curved at the bottom.
That way, she knew, if she could even pull her arms free and relax, her breasts would fall lightly onto the spikes on top. In that sense, she was glad that her hands had been pulled so far apart, causing her breasts to rise upwards a little.
She hadn't been aware of the curve in the spikes under the wooden platforms, until she had exhaled deeply, and had felt it cutting into her flesh. She didn't even know how deep it had cut, until she had felt the blood starting to flow down her belly. Then, she managed to move her head enough to see that it was, indeed, blood.
"Help me," she started to scream. "Please, help me. What the hell is going on here?
Someone help me out of here."
And then, she had heard a voice, which sounded half-crazed.
"Don't waste your energy screaming, my dear," it had said. "You will need all that energy to remain alive here."
She couldn't believe it. Why would anyone want to kill her? As far as she could remember, she had never hurt anyone in her life.
Of course, she remembered that there had been people in her family who had, namely, her grandfather. He had been in the German Army during the second World War, and it was one of his weird dealings that hail caused some of the experimentations back then.
Lily had known nothing about things like that, until recently.
Her grandfather had been living at her father's house, and he still spoke with his heavy German accent.
One night, about a year ago, it had happened, and all hell had broke loose.
She had been lying in her bed, sleeping, when she had felt someone touching her naked breast. The finger felt old and clammy, and she had thought that she was having some kind of a nightmare.
But then, she had opened her eyes, and she could see his hideous old face, glaring down at her, as if he was pure evil himself.
"Do not worry, my child," he had said to her. "You are all right here. I have selected you, from among all the girls, to be my private play thing."
"Grandfather, what are you doing?" she asked, because as she tried to push his hand away, she realized that she couldn't.
He had tied her hands together, with some kind of leather straps. She could see the way the strap had been tied to the bedpost.
"You will be all right," he said to her again. "They wanted to have you killed the minute . you entered the camp, but when I saw you, I knew that you were too lovely to be destroyed at such a young age."
And then, he had started to slide his hand down her body.
He cupped her breast, and she thought that she could feel every wrinkle in his hand. The thought of him touching her like that was enough to make her want to vomit.
She opened her mouth, and let out a loud scream, but he moved his hand over her mouth before she could wake her parents up. The idea of the scream had been to get them into the room so they could save her.
Suddenly, the old man's eyes had filled with rage.
He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and gagged her, stuffing it into her mouth so deep, that she choked on it at first, before she could get herself together. Tears were starting to roll down her cheeks.
"You will be all right," he repeated, as if his feeble old mind had forgotten what he'd said seconds ago. "But if you try to fight back, I'm afraid that I will have to have you exterminated, along with the others."
She had known nothing about his involvement in the war up until that time, and she couldn't figure out what he was talking about.
"But, if you want to think of me as your grandfather, then that is a game that I can play as well as you can. Of course, I'm not old enough to be a grandfather yet, my child. I'm still young enough to function."
The second he said that, she felt his old fingers crawling through his pubic patch, and then, she could feel the way he was starting to rub her cunt lips.
She had closed her eyes, and had thought about how good it had been that she'd lost her virginity a month before. Max Blum had taken it from her, but she had offered it to him willingly, because she thought she loved him.
There had been pain, at first, when he broke her hymen, but after the initial shock of the pain, there was only pleasure.
As her grandfather's fingers started to stroke those cunt lips of hers, she kept thinking that she was going to throw up.
He slid his finger in and out of her, and she could feel the way he was wiggling her clitoris around, as if he knew all about women and the way that they functioned. However, when he pinched her, too hard for her own good, she let out a gasp.
He seemed to understand that she had felt pain, and she thought that would keep him from doing it to her like that again. On the contrary, once he saw the way that she responded to the pinching, he did it again, and again.
She could feel mild pain spasms running through her body.
The fear that she had felt, the moment she realized she was bound, continued to run through her body, too, and that made it all so much worse. She wished, for a split second, that the old man would have a heart attack then. She had heard her father talking about how weak the man was.
Perhaps, she had thought, if I could kick him where it hurt, it might cause him to have a heart attack. I'd hate to have to do it, but it would be better then letting him take me, which is what he intends to do.
He was rubbing her love button more gently then, and she could feel the way her cunt walls were starting to spasm around his fingers.
She hated it. She knew that if he could tell that she was spasming, he might think that he was turning her on, and continue. Actually, she was feeling some physical pleasure, which she couldn't come to grips with, because he revolted her. And yet, he was fingering her nice enough then to make her come.
As she started to come, he moved his mouth between her legs.
She had closed her eyes, and had tried to make herself believe that it was Max Blum who was doing it to her.
It was hard, however, for each time he pressed his mouth against her cunt lips, she could feel his old, cold skin, rubbing against her thighs. She could feel the wrinkles in his skin, un-like the clear, smooth skin she had felt from Max, who was only just beginning to start shaving, too.
She could feel coarse hairs on her grandfather's face.
His tongue started to lick her insides, and she could hear him moaning.
Then, she started to think. One hope that she still had, was that the man might be impotent by this late age. She didn't know his exact age, but she was pretty sure that he was somewhere in his late sixties or early seventies.
She was sure he had to be impotent. A man of his age just couldn't get it up anymore. It had to be impossible. It had to be.
He continued to eat her, even after she had come once, which made her feel nice. Max had eaten her once, and had pulled his mouth away as she had started to come, as if her taste didn't turn him on at all.
She knew that she would have come hard a second time, had he not slid his hand under her buttocks, and started to move his finger between them, so he could start to probe out where her ass-hole was.
As he started to massage her, she could feel the bony, wrinkled finger.
She hated the fact that he was even trying to move his finger into her ass-hole, and when he slid it in, he seemed to love it.
She hated it, however. She tried to spit the gag out, and when she managed to get it out enough so she could make some kind of groaning sound, he pulled his mouth up from her cunt, and pulled his finger out fast.
He slapped her across the face, three times, hard.
Then, she started to cry, but not before he had a chance to push the gag back into her mouth, so that no one would hear her again. Each time that he did it, she kept wondering if he was really going crazy, or if he knew just what he was doing and acting like he was going crazy.
After all, he wanted her to remain silent. Did that mean he was aware that his son, and his son's wife (her parents) were lying asleep in the next room, and might be able to hear her if she screamed?
When she thought that, she hated him more for what he was doing. She hated him like she had never hated anyone in her life.
Even when she thought that he might be going crazy, she still hated him. If he had to go crazy, she kept thinking, let him do it somewhere else. Let someone else suffer for it, but she didn't want to be the one.
After he gagged her again, she heard the sound of his zipper opening.
He reached inside, and pulled his cock out of his pants.
It was small, and limp, just as she had suspected it would be. However, he moved the head of it between her legs anyway, and as he was rubbing it over her red cunt lips, she could see that it was starting to get stiffen
"Yah," he said, as if he could read the look of surprise in her eyes, "my cock is never hard at first. It only gets hard when it feels the wetness from a nice young cunt, rubbing against it. And this is a nice, young cunt."
You bastard, don't call me that, she kepi thinking. I'm not a cunt, and you're just an old fucking fucked-up fart.
She could see the way he was taking some of the wetness from between her legs, and rubbing it over his shaft, lubricating himself at the same time, so that he could keep rubbing it, until he was hard as a rock.
His cock was not as big as Max Blum's had been, which was a relief to her.
She thought that if she had been able to handle his, she would most certainly be able to handle her grandfather's. Of course, the thought of taking on the old man was still quite revolting to her.
As he started to enter her, she knew that it would happen, and that there was no way she could prevent it. She closed her eyes, and hoped that he wouldn't try to kiss her on the lips. The thought of kissing his old lips made her stomach growl.
She could feel the cock inside of her, and it was moving back and forth, very fast. She felt the way his shaft slid over her love button, and since his cock was the only part of him that wasn't so wrinkled, she didn't mind it at all, so long as she could forget about the rest of his body.
She heard the way that he was breathing heavily, and kept hoping that he would have a heart attack mid-fuck, and die on top of her.
It would be so much better than having him come inside of her.
After only a few seconds of thrusting, however, she could feel the way that he was starting to pulsate hard. She could hear him breathing heavier and heavier, and wondered if he would die first, or come first.
Then, she could feel the cream starting to shoot inside of her.
"Yah, a good, hot cunt," he was moaning. "Only a good, hot cunt can make me come this much, and that's just what you have."
If he had shut up, she thought, she might have loved it more.
But hearing him call her that was bad enough, and hearing the voice, kept bringing her back to the reality of who was fucking her. If he had shut up, she kept thinking, maybe she could have believed that it was Max Blum.
But when she thought about her grandfather coming inside of her, the thought was more than she could handle.
Somehow, she managed to spit the gag out of her mouth, and before he could do anything to stuff it back in, she started to vomit.
She was throwing up all over his chest, and she kept praying that she would not choke on it, the way she read it had happened to many people. After all, she could hardly lift up her head, and she could feel some of it moving back in her throat.
And yet, somehow, between the retching coughs, filled with her puke, she managed to start screaming as loud as she could.
"Mother! Father! Help me! Help me! He's crazy. Crazy!"
And he was slapping her hard across the face to try and get her to shut up, but she had managed to get her parents to wake up.
They ran into her room, and she could see her naked father, pulling his father back off the bed, and pushing him onto the floor.
"Oh God," she heard her mother saying. "Oh God. Oh God."
Everything else had happened so fast that night. Her mother had cleaned her off with a wet washcloth, and her father had helped his father into his room, and helped him get ready for when the men came to take him away.
He was being sent to an institution, which, as far as she knew now, was where he still must have been.
But that night, as they waited for the men in white to come, her mother and father had sat down to try and explain why he had done it.
"Your grandfather was in the second world war, on the German side," her father had told her. "It had to have effected him."
"That crazy bastard," her mother said. "We should have put him away years ago. I don't know why I let you talk me into waiting. Waiting until something like this would happen. Why did I let you?"
"Shut up," he screamed at her. "Just shut up."
And then, he had told Lily all about the kinds of things that her grandfather had done while he was in the camp.
"He had worked directly with the prisoners. He had done experiments on them, and he had had nightmares ever since. I can remember him waking up in the middle of the night when I was a boy, screaming strange things."
"It really did a number on his head," she said to her father. "Still, I don't know how he could have done that to me. I don't understand it."
"He didn't realize it was you," her father told her. "He must have thought that he was back there, in the war, experimenting. Using the girls the way most of the soldiers could use the girls. Treating you like...."
"like shit," she said to her father, and then she thought. "Well, daddy, I don't really care. No matter what you say to me, it's not going to change what's already happened. It's not going to change the hatred that I feel toward him. I don't care if I ever see him again. Ever."
Her father had looked like he was going to slap her for talking about her grandfather like that, but her mother had intercepted his flying hand.
"Don't you think he's done enough to her without you having to hit her?"
And then, her father had broken down and had started to cry in front of her.
It was just like she was crying now, as she tried not to exhale, as she tried not to move so that the spikes wouldn't cut into her.
"Please help me," she called out again. "Please. Whoever tied me up like this, I want to know who did it. Please."
And then, she could hear the sounds of something that sounded like footsteps, but they weren't quite footsteps.
She felt as if her whole body was going to give out on her. As if her breasts were just going to come to a steady rest the way they usually did, and the spikes were going to pierce right through them.
Then, she looked down, and saw the half-man on the floor.
The look of him, with all the spikes, and the stumps, was making her feel like she was going to be sick.
She could feel that wrenching in her stomach, and she was glad that she didn't eat anything for a while, because she did start to retch, but no food was coming up.
"The thought of me disgusts you, does it not?" the man asked, and he moved his claw close to her leg, as if he was going to pierce her flesh.
"No," she said to him. "I'm just so scared. Just so scared. Why am I here?"
"To pay for the sins of your grandfather," he said to her. "He was one of the men who did this to me, and now you are going to pay for it."
She started to scream then, and as she did, she could feel him digging his claw into her flesh, harder than anything had ever touched her. She felt her skin starting to rip open, and she could feel blood there, too.
"No," she started screaming, "I will not pay for his sins any longer. I'm fucking sick and tired of paying for that crazy bastard's sins. He did this to you, and now I can understand his nightmares, but fuck it all. I don't want to have to pay for them. I don't want to have to pay for them."
And then, the man stopped, and he pulled his claw out of her. He looked at her a bit quizzically, and started to smile.
"How have you paid for his sins?" he asked her. "Tell me."
She didn't know if she could tell this strange little thing that had happened to her. It was such a personal thing, and there was no reason why she should have to tell it to him. No reason at all, except. . .
Maybe if he thinks I already paid, he'll let me go. He put me here, after all.
So she started to tell him. She told him all about that night, and how the old man had come into the room, tied her up, and raped her.
She told him all about how she had thrown up on him, and how the man was now living out his last days in some nut house.
Gustaf was not content with that answer. He could think of the old man, living a nice, laid back, leisurely life, being cared for by beautiful nurses, having sponge baths, and all his meals served on time.
Was that retribution for what that bastard had done in his lifetime? Sure, he was old and crazy now, but Gustaf couldn't stop thinking about what he had been back then, when he was young, and knew better.
"Tell me something," he said to her. "How much do you hate the old man?"
"I hate him as much as I'm hating you for what you're doing to me now."
He knew that was strong hatred, for it was expected from these girls.
"Do you think that he deserves to live in a nuthouse for the rest of his life? Do you think that's what he deserves? Don't you think he'd be better if he was put out of all his misery? Wouldn't you feel better about it?"
"Yes," she said to him. "I hope he dies soon. But I'm not going to ever go see that bastard again for the rest of his life."
"Perhaps, you might go to see him one last time," he said.
And she started to shake her head no, with a firm conviction, as if she was never going to see him, and never change her mind about it.
But Gustaf couldn't help but think about the poison, and how easy it would be to talk this girl into giving it to the old man. Just a little pain, and she would be begging him to let her do it...
CHAPTER TEN
Maria could feel the rings that were piercing her nipples, and she wished to Christ that he would come and take them out.
They were not half as bad as the rings that pierced her cunt lips, however, for each lip was pierced.
Actually, it was the ropes that were running through them, that made the pain hurt her more than anything else. The ropes had been tied to the rings on her cunt lips, and then pulled through the rings connected to the leather straps around her thighs, just above the knees.
Then, the ropes continued up through the rings in her breasts, and finally, ended up tied to the rings connected to the leather straps around her wrists.
"Please," she screamed out, "if you loved me, like you said you would, you would never do anything like this to me."
But there was silence. She thought that he must have been with one of the other girls, abusing her, and possibly hurting her, and bringing her more pain than she was feeling. For even though there was pain, if she stayed on the stone floor in one position, and didn't move at all, she felt all right.
It was only when she would move, either her hands, or her legs, that she would feel the way the ropes were pulling, and the pull would always feel the worst down near her cunt lips, as they were being stretched wider and wider.
She closed her eyes, and tried to think about what had happened between them, and how the last few days had been so terrible.
It had all started with the girl. Lily was her name.
When Maria had been watching the way he had abused the girl, she couldn't believe it.
Eventually, he had talked the girl into poisoning her grandfather, and Maria kept hoping that the girl was just saying she would.
She was waiting for him in his office after that encounter.
"Don't you think that what you did to her was rather cruel?" she asked him.
"Don't you think that what they did to me was cruel?"
"I don't, want to hear that excuse again. That's your excuse for everything that you do to everyone. It's the sign of a hateful man."
"I've never claimed not to be one," Gustaf had said, as he started to put on his artificial limbs so that he could be a full man again.
"But it wasn't even her father, or her husband. It was her grandfather. She didn't even know about him. until he raped her. Don't you think that the fact that he raped her was punishment enough for her?"
"No," he said to her, and he suddenly turned on her, with his words. "Why, you are not as strong as I thought you once were. You are really a weak woman."
"I never claimed to be anything but." she said to him, making fun of his kinds of answers to her. "And what is wrong with being weak, anyway?"
"Did I say that there was anything wrong with it?"
"No, but the tone of voice you used implied that it was."
He said nothing to her, but went and poured himself another drink. She had noticed that in the few months that she had been with him, his alcohol intake had increased. It was almost double what it was when she'd first met him.
That night, she could hardly look at him when they were in bed.
He had started to kiss her cunt, and she could feel the sucking sensation from his mouth. She felt her juices rolling into his mouth, but she couldn't even fake that she was enjoying herself.
Usually, she would moan loud, just to let him think that she was coming hard.
But even though she was coming, it was an unpleasant orgasm.
She was beginning to think of him as being more and more of a sadist. She could not stop thinking about that girl, and how he had clawed at her legs, and her cunt. He had started to play with her clit, using his claw, until Lily looked like she was about to vomit once again.
Finally, she had submitted to him. When he had started to spread her buttocks so he could ram his claw up her ass-hole, she had promised that she would kill her grandfather.
Maria could picture some old, feeble man. with very little mind left, so that he was practically helpless. She hated the thought of the girl killing the man, no matter what he had done in his past.
That same night, after he made her come once with his mouth, he had started to slide up on top of her, and then, he had fucked her.
"You want a child," he kept saying to her. "You want my child."
"Yes, I want it," she moaned, although, she was not too sure anymore if she did or not. She wondered if sadism could be transferred from a father's genes to a son's genes, for if it could, the son would be a born sadist.
"Then take it," he started to moan, and she had felt him coming inside of her cunt, in thick, hot creamy spurts.
The tension between them continued to mount. After the girl had phoned in, to say that her grandfather was dead, he had marked it on the file.
Then, when he had gone to deal with the next girl, she had decided to check over his file cabinet once again.
After all, she had thought, he told me months ago that this thing would be coming to an end soon, but it seems like it's never going to end. It seems that when one room is vacant, because a girl is allowed to go free, he fills it immediately with some other girl. How many soldiers could there have been back then?
There couldn't have been so many, she kept thinking. There could not have been as many as he kept claiming there were.
And in the files, there were lists of others. So many others, that site started to wonder if he was just making up the names, so that he would be able to justify what he was doing in his own crazed mind.
That was when she couldn't stop thinking that he was crazy.
When he returned to the room, a few hours later, she started to ask him all kinds of questions. She asked him how many more there would be, and he seemed to sense that she was coming to some understanding.
"When you have our child, there will be other things for you to worry about but the child's well-being. Then you will be content."
"And when will that be?" she asked him. "Are you sure that there were no tests done with radiation? Are you sure?"
He looked like he was about to strike her, but he started to scream instead.
"I told you that I am fertile. It just takes time."
And so, she continued to wait.
One afternoon, however, she started to doubt herself. Maybe, she kept thinking, the doctor who examined me years ago was wrong. and maybe I'm the one who just can't conceive. Maybe I should go to someone else.
And she had, and once again, she had been told that she was more than fertile. All tests were negative. If she wanted a child, she could have one, by any normal man with a normal sperm count.
She was so sure then that he had been lying to her.
She started to think about the night before. The night when she had finally confronted him with the truth about herself.
He had been making love to her, and she had felt his cock working over her clit. She had felt the pleasures running through her, more than usual, because, she was so sure that he was sterile, too.
If that was the case, she had reasoned, she might as well learn to love the pleasures that she could feel from his cock inside of her, because the hopes of her getting pregnant now had completely disappeared.
When his cock had started to throb inside of her, she had started to cry.
Then, as he was finished coming, he kissed her.
"What is wrong?" he asked her. "What's the matter with you?"
"I went to the doctor today. He could not understand why I cannot have children. He said that I am very fertile, and that I would be able to conceive with any normal man. I can't help but think that you must be sterile."
And he rolled off her, and turned his back on her.
When she woke up, she found herself bound, with the rings pierced through her flesh, and the ropes tied to the rings.
It was as if she was his prisoner again.
"Help me, Gustaf," she said to him. "Why are you keeping me here?"
And then, she could hear the sound of him approaching. By this time, it sounded like footsteps to her, although she knew that there was still something very awkward about that dragging sound on the floor.
He appeared before her and he smiled at her.
He moved his claw to one of her strings, and pulled at it, so that her cunt lips were being pulled. She screamed in pain.
Then, he started to move closer to her, pushing her back a little.
His hard cock was sticking straight out, and he entered her cunt easily, because she was spread wide open for him. , "I will be coming here every day," he said to her. "I will keep fucking you every day. until you have that baby."
She couldn't understand it. If he wanted her to have his child, then why didn't they just continue the way they had been?
But he knew something that she didn't know.
He had been exposed to radiation back then. His story about getting some girl pregnant a few years back had been a complete lie.
His cock was the only thing that kept him from being a half-man, because it was so enormous, but if anyone was to know that he Couldn't have children, they could still think of him as a half man.
So no one could ever learn the truth of his sterility.
He continued to thrust in and out of her, and he could feel the way his cock was starting to pulsate hard. So he slowed down, for even though he knew she was no longer feeling pleasure from it, he still was.
He had known, for the last few weeks, that he would have to do something like this to her, because she was learning too much about him.
She had gone to the doctor, too, and in her mind, no matter what he said, she was sure that he was sterile.
When she would keep having her periods, she would eventually learn the truth, and he didn't want her to walk out on him.
He did love her, in his own way, and he wanted her there. If giving her a child was the only way to keep her, then he knew he just wouldn't have her.
Unless, of course, she was kept bound, at all times, so that she was his prisoner, like the others.
Gustaf smiled as he felt his cock pulsating inside of her again.
He knew that he wouldn't inflict any pain on her, anymore, because there were others that he could do it to. There were hundreds and hundreds of young girls out in the world, who knew nothing about their heritage.
A lie here, and a lie there, and they would believe that their father or uncle or grandfather, or some other relative who they didn't know about, had been a member of the German party, and he could continue on like that for years and years.
He needed someone to vent his rage on, he kept thinking. Wouldn't any man in his position need someone for that purpose?
It was so understandable.
He had lived through tortures that no human being could ever live through, and they had made sure he stayed alive.
He could remember begging them, when the pain was so great, to kill him and let him get away from all the misery.
But they had loved watching him beg, and they had loved watching him in pain.
There had been no anesthetic when they had cut off his limbs, one at a time, over a period of days. That way, when the pain from one severed limb had subsided, they would start to cut off another one.
Overall, he could recall, it had taken a week, because they had not started to cut at one until the pain of the other had subsided.
It had been a week of agony, not to mention the months before when they had been experimenting with his cock and balls, pulling and cutting into them, ripping at the skin from his groin.
He deserved to get his revenge. He deserved it.
And he was still helping the world. He thought that by telling these people what had happened to him, they would go out, and hate all Nazis. He really believed that in his own way, he could keep the party from ever rising in power again.
He could feel his cock pulsating harder inside of her cunt, and then, he was shooting his cream into her.
"Make a baby," he started to moan. "Make a baby. She wants to have a baby, so let it work for her this time."
He was so convincing, that she began to doubt what she had been thinking.
She began to look at him and think that maybe he really could have a child after all, and maybe it just wasn't working right between them.
She began to hope that it would.
Because as he pulled away, then kissed her, he started to turn his back on her and walk out of the room.
"Please, don't leave me here," she said to him. "I'm in pain, Gustaf. Don't leave me tied up here. I cannot stand it."
"When you are with child, then you will be freed," she could hear him yelling back to her, and soon, he was gone.
And she started to lie on her back, even though the pain in her cunt was great, for she felt the semen starting to drip out of her, and she knew that it would be a terrible waste. She had to hold it inside of her.
She had to get it deep inside of her, so that it would fertilize the egg in her ovaries, so that he would free her one day.
He would come to her each day and feed her, and then make love to her, and it would not be until she was pregnant that he would release her. Or so, she thought, if that was the case, then he had to be fertile, too. A man would not do something like that, unless he knew for a fact that he was a fertile man, or unless he was also . . .
No! She didn't want to think of it, but the possibility was there. She had thought about it so many times.
Only a crazy man would do something like that, too!
A Crazy Man!
The tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she could taste them on her lips and on her tongue when she started to lick them off.
He was a crazy man, she kept thinking. He had to be.
Otherwise she would be pregnant. He was either fertile or crazy, and now she was so sure that it was the latter. So fucking sure.
She wished that she could get to one of the girls. She wished that he wouldn't scare the girls so much, because once freed, they could easily go to the police and tell them what happened.
Then, they could lead the police back to the house.
Those two girls couldn't do it, though, she remembered, for they had already carried out a murder, .and if they brought the cops running, then Gustaf could tell the police how the girls had murdered their relatives.
But there were all those others.
Out of all the other prisoners, she kept thinking, there has to be one who won't be convinced that this man is telling the truth.
There has to be one who will go along with what he's saying, just to get free.
And when she does get free, she has to go to the police. She has to think about all the other girls that this man might have as prisoners, and she has to have pity for them and think about helping them.
That was her only hope, she kept thinking. Her only hope.
Because more and more, he seemed to be crazy, and the more crazy he seemed to be, the less chance there seemed that he would be fertile. It was either one or the other, and they both sent chills through her body anyway.
EPILOGUE
Maria could hear loud footsteps coming down the hallway once again, but this time, there was something different about them. They were real. They weren't the kind of strange sounding, half-man steps she had heard before.
The door opened, and she saw a policeman standing there. For a minute, she was a bit embarrassed, because of her nakedness.
He walked in, and started to untie the ropes.
"You can go now. You're free," he said to her. "We got him, if that's what the look on your face is wondering. Someone told us about him, and we came and got him. He'll be all right. They're taking him to the hospital. He should have been put there years ago. Now it's his time."
She didn't know if she should scream for joy, or start to cry. The tears began to roll down her cheeks, and they made the decision for her.
Slowly, she stood up and started to get dressed, hoping that she'd never have a nightmare about the hell she'd been through.
