This book is dedicated to the memory of Deidre Steine who perished in the laboratory at Dachau: Women's Section during labor. She was eleven years old.
EDITOR'S NOTE
There is no single word that can describe the terror of war, or the horrors that were endured by millions of innocent men, women and children as they were hunted down and taken prisoner by the enemy.
Mothers and fathers forced to watch their children being beaten and sexually ravaged by power-crazy men and women who stopped at nothing to fulfill their sadistic sickness. Men, shackled helplessly, being forced to witness their wives' torture, sometimes by three or four officers at a time.
It is no wonder that many brave men would rather have died than go on living at the mercy of the enemy.
FOREWORD
The chains which suspended from the ceiling rattled with the struggles of the young girl. She whimpered with fear, and clenched her fists in a vain attempt to diminish the pain which wracked her wrists from the iron manacles which held her body suspended.
The Nazi soldier approached, his blue eyes sparkling lewdly. In his right hand he held a burning brand. In his left, the massive rod of his manhood throbbed. He laughed cynically.
"Lo how the mighty have fallen," he intoned. "Take your pick, you virtuous bitch. This," he said, waving the burning brand, "or this," he continued, yanking slightly on his manhood.
Dominique whimpered, and blushed for shame, as the dungeon rang with the sardonic laughter of other Nazis, watching her degradation, her shame.
The Nazi soldier whom she had so often disdained pointed the burning brand at her golden-furred love mound. The smell of singeing hair reached her nostrils, and the smell of fear wafted over her-her own fear.
"That," she gasped, nodding her head at his lusty manhood.
"What?" he taunted her. Now she could hear the sizzling of her maidenhairs, feel the heat of the brand on her delicate sex flesh.
"Your-your cock!" she gasped, finally broken, and willing to admit defeat.
With a raucous laugh, the assembled group of torturers applauded her decision, as the Nazi soldier dropped the burning brand with a great cry of lust, and plunged his throbbing rod into the tiny, tortured hole of his victim.
Dominique moaned as she felt his burning, fleshy brand searing her sex flesh, and the fires of her passion were ignited.
CHAPTER ONE
"Perhaps he's mad."
The quiet suggestion from Oberlieutenant Hans Keitl rang through the room like a shot, leaving in its wake a sudden silence.
The silence eked out painfully, as the six men and three women sitting around the massive mahogany table struggled with their own real inclinations, as opposed to those overt acts and attitudes which had kept them alive for five years or more.
William Aberhaus cleared his throat.
"I don't think that's a consideration, Hans. Hitler has picked his men well, and it is up to us whom he trusts to preserve the Third Reich-to keep our Fatherland from being raped by the rapacious allies once again."
"That I do not question," Hans replied, raising his finger upward to stress his point.
"Then let us not question it!" Hennie Midden declared. "The facts are plain and clear. We are hard-pressed on every front. We need soldiers, and our program for purifying the race, for eliminating defectives and Jews, has bogged down."
"An ugly picture, fraulein," Hans said with some sarcasm in his voice.
"War," Hennie declared, slamming her slender white hand on the table, "is not pretty! I am not here to discuss aesthetics. Leave that to the Bahaus or the Blue Reiter schools!"
"Then what are we here for?" Hans demanded, fixing Hennie with a keen, hostile stare.
"To discuss the winning of a war!" Hennie declared.
"Bravo!" Colonel Aberhaus exclaimed. "We have got this far; we must go the whole route!" Hennie declared as she warmed to her subject.
Hans felt a cool trickle of sweat moving in a maddeningly itchy rivulet down his neck, tormenting his fevered skin. He could no longer ignore those symptoms which had caused the sweat to appear in his heated flesh.
He nodded, and grunted, and made some vague note on the pad of paper before him.
"We have come to the following conclusions," Commandant Franz Mittelstein said, referring to his own pad of paper, the top sheet of which was closely covered with copious notes in a fine, small handwriting.
"One, we have been pushed back on the western front and we are mired on the eastern front.
"Two, our facilities for exterminating defectives have broken down.
"Three, we are in dire need of more soldiers to revamp and refurbish our armies on all fronts.
"Four, we are temporarily stopped in our blitzkrieg. Ja?"
There were murmured grunts and declarations of assent among the eight listeners.
"So!" Commandant Franz Mittelstein said, leaning back in his chair, and pressing the tips of his fingers together to form a triangle. "Where do we go from here?"
"A fifth point, if I may interject, Franz," Hennie said.
Hans gnashed his teeth, hating the tall, voluptuous woman.
"Yes, Hennie?"
"Supplies!" Hennie exclaimed, referring to her own copious notes. "First, materiel for our personnel on the front; secondly, food for our soldiers, and for our civilians; third, an ancillary point, but important, production!"
"Bravo!" Colonel Aberhaus exclaimed. His beady, brown eyes, however, were riveted on Hans.
The meticulous Hans did not like to sweat. Already his cotton underwear clung to him, and he could feel the wetness causing his shirt to cling to his back, and under his arms.
He wanted to leave but didn't dare. As soon as he was out of ear shot, he knew he would be discussed. He stayed and endured the agony.
Fortunately, it didn't last long.
Commandant Franz Mittelstein coughed discreetly, and reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a small phial. Opening it, he popped a little white pill into his mouth.
The whole gesture was terribly subtle and understated, but it punctuated the meeting with a period.
"I move we adjourn," Hennie declared.
"Adjourn!" Hans declared unwittingly. "We have just begun."
"Yes, and a good beginning, too. Now that we have established a formulation of our problems, I think we should sit on it, and recall this meeting for two days from now," Commandant Mittelstein declared, coolly.
"Second!" Colonel Aberhaus exclaimed, pushing his chair back.
"All in favor?" Hennie asked, having been requested to chair the meeting. All hands went up, Hans's hand last and only half way.
"Good! I declare the meeting adjourned!" Colonel Aberhaus said, jocularly.
"Uh-uh, Colonel Aberhaus, that is my charge."
"Apologies, Hennie, I was too eager."
"The meeting is declared adjourned," Hennie intoned, looking at her wrist watch, and noting the time at the foot of her notes.
Karl Hemper, sitting rigid at the foot of the table, next to Hans, raised his arm smartly.
"Yes, Karl?" Hennie asked.
"When you say two days from now, you mean, also, the same time?"
"Correct," Hennie said, neatly squaring her pieces of paper, and then putting them into her briefcase. There was the faintest hint of a smirk on her face.
The scraping of chairs across the marble floor signaled a mass exit.
Hennie closed her briefcase, and paused subtly, waiting for the room to clear out. Then she walked to the large mahogany double doors, and stepped smartly out into the corridor.
It was a huge corridor, double-storied, entirely of marble, and it rang with the footsteps of Nazis coming and going on a myriad of errands for their commanding officers, bent on saving the Third Reich.
Overhead, in an ornately-carved ceiling, crystal chandeliers scintillated with light, the faceted pendants flashing blue and pink refractions.
"Hennie!"
Hennie turned and smiled at her immediate superior officer, the man to whom she reported directly, Commandant Franz Mittelstein.
"Franz, how do you feel?"
Franz shrugged.
"All right. A pang, that's all, a little pang."
"Shall we go home?"
"Good work, Hennie. I think we accomplished more than was to be expected, given the gang of idiots we have to work with."
Hennie smiled, wallowing in the praise. They went to their offices on the second floor to file their reports. Hennie finished first, and then frowned, as she watched Franz, as meticulous as always, filling out some forms.
"Here!" he said, signing his name with a flourish, and handing the reports to Hennie.
"What are these?"
"First, a memo to the chiefs of staff to come to a meeting the day after our next conference, to discuss deployment and recruitment. Second, my report to Hitler on our first meeting. Third, a recommendation that you be promoted to Colonel."
Hennie gasped.
"Well," Franz said, smiling at her, "you deserve it. You have more brains and courage than half the members of that meeting put together. Now, file them, and then let us go home. I am tired."
Hennie looked at Franz carefully. He was well over six feet, blue-eyed, keen featured, and blond-haired. Sprinkled at his temples was some silver hair, but there was nothing about him to indicate a diminution of power, except for one thing: Franz was suffering from a heart condition. He had been born with it, and lived with it.
It hadn't hindered his upward rise in the high command of the Third Reich, but lately it was more manifest. Perhaps the tension of the last tragic, maddening six months. Germany bogged down just when it looked as if the Fatherland could engorge itself on the whole world-a new day of peace, plenty, and security for the German, Aryan stock! .
Hennie and he marched smartly together out of the building, resplendant in their uniforms, their boots with a mirror sheen on them. They walked the short distance from the building of the German high command to their elegant apartment on an exclusive, lovely street.
"A drink, Franz?" Hennie asked, as they walked into the ornate foyer of the apartment they shared together.
"Yes. Some brandy would be good."
The lone servant, an older man, appeared when Hennie rang, and poured their drinks. They sat on the couch together, sipping the liquor quietly for a moment.
"Where shall we go for dinner?" Hennie wondered.
Franz laughed, and put his arm around Hennie's shoulder, pulling her against him.
"How about a quiet evening at home?" Franz suggested, pressing a kiss on Hennie's soft white brow.
She looked at him, smiling radiantly.
"What a lovely idea!" she purred. Their lips met softly. Franz put his drink on the coffee table, and then pulled Hennie hard against his chest.
Hennie pressed her fabulous breasts against the uniform tunic of Franz, and felt his heart beating erratically against her tit.
As she kissed him, she released his belt and cross-strap, letting it drop to the carpeted floor. Then she unbuttoned his tunic, and pulled that off his long, muscular arms.
Then she unbuttoned his white shirt, and that went the way of his tunic. His bare chest was virtually hairless.
Still kissing him, she caressed his well-developed pectorals, and then pinched his manly nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, digging into the tawny buttons with her long, well-manicured fingernails.
Franz moaned against Hennie's lips, and she gasped as she felt his tongue invading her mouth, raking the roof of her orifice.
Her pussy cream started to flow heavily, as she surrendered to his hot kiss. There was a different, and keener frenzy in her love-making this evening, and she abandoned herself hotly to Franz's hands, as he started to disrobe her.
Soon, they were locked hotly in each other's embrace, their naked limbs tangled on the couch.
Hennie broke the kiss.
"Let's go to bed, darling."
"Why? It's just as comfortable here," Franz said.
Hennie shrugged her shoulders.
"I would just prefer it tonight."
"Very well," Franz said, humoring her good-naturedly. He rose from the couch, his long, elegant frame beautiful, his manly stalk standing straight out from his thick golden pubic bush.
He took Hennie's hand, and she rose, also tall, with a pleasingly full body, and very large, magnificently-shaped breasts, long golden hair, and a slender waist which flowed outward in the soft curve of her hips.
They walked down the hall to their bedroom, and fell on the bed.
Once again, Hennie felt her body being crushed against Franz's body. His huge, pulsating prick throbbed between their pressed-together bellies.
She reached between their bodies and grasped his prick at its hairy base, caressing the hot hardness of it, savoring the softness of its fleshy sheath.
"Mmm!" she moaned against Franz's mouth.
Franz pushed her over onto her back, and his mouth went to her left nipple. He started to suck on it noisily, and Hennie shivered as she felt her flesh crawling with increasing excitement.
Goose flesh formed on her smooth white skin as Franz's incomparable mouth stimulated the little pink bud until it was stiff and tingling with heated bliss.
She closed her eyes, feeling weak with the growing desire which had consumed her physical energy, leaving her no capacity except to respond to the sexual sensations which gripped her.
Franz tongued his way to her right tit, and then his mouth performed the same service on her right nipple. She felt as if her nipples were electrified, and the excited, puckered pink flesh shot fleshy shards of pleasure through her body.
She spread her legs, feeling her passion-bloated pussy meat flowering outward, pouting from between her plump white outer lips. The pink flesh glistened with the honey which flowed from her deep well, as Franz continued to tease her.
He ran his hand up and down over the flat plane of her belly, and she felt her flesh rippling with the touch of his sweating palm. And then he cupped her muff.
"Ohh!" Hennie whimpered, bending her knees up. She pressed her soles against the mattress, and arched her hips upward.
Franz's middle finger pressed against her cunt cleft, which had been spread apart by the swelling of her pink inner meat, and he rubbed up and down, until his finger glistened with her hot syrup of desire.
She threw her arms around his neck, and raked her fingernails over his rippling, muscular back as he moved his hips over, so that he was crouched between her spread-eagled legs.
Then she felt the warm contact of his cock head against her tight, hungry hole. She bucked upward, too hungry to wait for his thrust.
His cock head plopped into her tight wet nest, and she felt her pussy walls spreading wide with the thickness of Franz's manly staff.
He started to thrust inward, his cock slithering easily into her well-greased tunnel of love. Her sex slit came alive with a thousand prickling sensations which felt like tiny fires of pleasure.
Her juices flowed even more heavily, as Franz buried himself balls-deep in her hot, quivering little cunt.
And then his body pressed against hers, pinning her against the mattress.
Against her right tit, she could feel his heart hammering. Her own beat like a trip hammer as the excitement enthralled her, gearing up her body as if it were a racing car, waiting to take off.
She felt her blood swirling through her body, hammering in pulse-beats at her temples and at her wrists.
Her body felt positively bloated with the carnal upheaval which reigned in the depths of her womanhood.
".'Oh, Franz, so good," she gasped, her lips moving against his. He bit her lower lip, as he started to move his massive manhood in her pussy, pulling it out to the tip slowly, and then just as slowly, plumbing the depths of her cunt again.
His cock head butted gently against the fleshy roof of her cave of lust and the impact sent concentric rippling rings of sweet pleasure spreading outward from her cunt to the rest of her body.
She felt as if her insides were going to melt, felt as if her fleshy organs were oozing out of her pussy, as Franz thrust inward.
His lips moved from her lips down over her soft cheek to her earlobe. He nuzzled the lobe of her ear, and his breath blew moist and warm against the channel of her ear, sending more shivers of pleasure coursing through her.
There was no doubt in Hennie's mind that Franz was the most masterful lover she had ever had, and she squirmed with the growing sexual riot which threatened to turn her inside out.
His cock massaged the itching, hungry walls of her pussy, as she bucked up against him, mashing her tumescent pussy meat against his hairy loins, which had become wet and slimy with the come cream oozing out of her well-stuffed, well-fucked hole.
Her cuntal walls started to close in around his meaty shaft, as he pistoned in and out of her with increasing fury.
His balls slapped wetly against her humping, quivering ass flesh, the wet, wiry hairs tickling her sensitive buns, and adding to the wild welter of sexual sensations which flooded her.
Her lovely face became flushed with the heated passion which swelled and swelled in her, until she writhed hotly under Franz's hard-humping body.
She threw her legs up in the air, as lightning-like orgasmic flashes pierced through her, and wrapped her legs around Franz's hard-humping waist.
The gesture spread her pussy lips more, and she gyrated against his hard-humping loins, stimulating her already tumescent sex flesh until she felt as if it were pulsating with the same strength as her heart.
Her clitoris popped out of its fleshy sheath and scintillated with a burning pleasure which n only heightened the sweet insanity which had gripped Hennie's flesh.
She ground her hips against Franz's pubes, as the soft spasms caused her cunt to clench like a fist and then relax. The spasms intensified, as Franz thrust into her over and over again, his cock prying deeper and deeper into her sex slit, the strength of his thrusts jarring her body pleasantly, rhythmically.
Her breasts, flattened out against his throbbing, sweating chest, palpitated with the lust pleasure which possessed her as she abandoned herself to Franz's fucking.
And then her orgasm washed over her like a hot tidal wave, engulfing all her senses with a sweet carnal riot that caused her to scream. The convulsions in the depth of her pussy increased in strength until her body stiffened momentarily, as if she had received an electrical shock, and then her mind blanked out, leaving behind only the orgasmic pleasure of her sexual release.
At the height of her climax, Franz's cock swelled in her cunt, and got hotter, and then his come slit exploded with warm pellets of man juice. It swelled the slimy tide of cream already flowing lavishly from Hennie's well-stuffed cunt, and trickled out of her hole, making a river bed of her ass crack, and then pooling on the bed beneath her humping, quivering cheeks.
Franz shot wad after wad of his steaming gism into her convulsing, chaotic cunt, until he had emptied his balls.
He was gasping harshly when his body finally collapsed on top of Hennie's. She lay squirming under him for a while longer, feeling her orgasm fading away softly, leaving her relaxed.
Franz's body was quivering and wet with post-orgasmic warmth, and she caressed him, kissed him, cooed to him.
He slipped partially off her body, and she put his head on her naked breasts. His body relaxed in gentle jerks as he fell asleep. He had been doing that a lot lately-falling asleep after they made love.
Tonight it suited her purposes magnificently. When his breathing and his heart beat became regular, she slipped out from under him, gazing for a while at his magnificent, long body.
"It's a pity, really," she said, shaking her head, and biting her lower lip. "But it has to start somewhere."
Very gently, she stretched him out so that his arms were over his head, and his feet spread-eagled. He "snorted once and then resumed the steady, regular breathing of an increasingly deep sleep.
Using three of her silk scarves, she tied his wrists together, and attached them to the brass headboard of the bed, and then spread his legs, securing them by the ankles to the post at the foot of the bed.
She had thought about it very carefully while she was chairing the meeting. There must be no marks-nothing to alter the assurance everyone would have that Commandant Franz Mittelstein had died of heart failure.
War was ugly, but it had to be pursued, like a disadvantageous, difficult game of chess with a merciless opponent who gave no quarter.
She pushed Franz's chin up slightly, and lightly brushed his lips with hers. They parted.
Brusquely, she pushed several silk scarves into his mouth, pushed them far back. A snorting, strangled sound came from the back of Franz's mouth, and his eyes snapped open, just as his body stiffened.
Hennie stood naked at the foot of the bed, watching his death struggles, watching his face go red, then purple, almost black.
As she watched his agony, Hennie was sweating copiously and trembling violently. For a man with a heart condition, he took a long, hard time to go.
The bed shook and jerked with his motions, and then before her fascinated gaze, his magnificent cock became erect, and throbbed with lusty blood. But the light had died from his eyes.
His body arched incredibly upward, stiffened, shook, and then collapsed on the mattress with a violent thud.
Hennie watched for a long time, unutterably enthralled with his massive erection, and then her body sagged forward.
She had been stone-hard with tension, had almost undergone Franz's death agony. The strangled, horrible sounds had stopped.
Carefully, she placed her ear at his heart. There was no sound. She waited, pacing back and forth, chain-smoking, for another hour before she pulled the silk scarves out of Franz's gaping mouth, and then untied him.
The marks on his wrists and ankles were faint. Going to the fireplace, she burned the scarves, and for another hour, face-to-face with a death in which she was personally involved, she watched the subtle changes taking place in Franz's body, watched his belly hollow inward.
Then, unable to watch his hard-on any more, she rolled him with difficulty over onto his stomach.
"Forgive me, Franz," she said, her voice quivering with an emotion she hadn't expected, "it's for the Reich, for the Fatherland."
Then she dressed in a robe, and ran to the door, calling in a panicked voice for the old man who was their servant.
Her first blow had been struck, and now Hennie had to live with the blood on her hands, and the spot of coldness in her heart that came from a sense of loss.
CHAPTER TWO
Hans Keitl, oberlieutenant, medical coordinating officer of the Third Reich, was fit to kill, when he stormed into his headquarters, a block away from the high command administrative offices.
It was his job to process the "medical finds" of the doctors who experimented in the concentration camps.
One doctor, from Auschwitz, Will Myer, had sent a glowing report on the benefits of X-rays in sterilizing defective women. It stopped them from ovulating almost immediately. It was cheap.
Intrigued by the report, Hans had ordered twenty women brought into his laboratories, in order to verify Dr. Myer's experiments. They were all Jewesses, all young.
They had been strapped to twenty tables, and without benefit of anesthetic, their bellies had been ripped open, and the flaps of flesh sewn back with cat gut.
Hemostats clamped their blood vessels off to prevent their bleeding to death while they suffered the outrage of being bombarded every single day with X-rays.
Their internal organs, burned by the deadly bombardment, were beginning to turn purple, but so far the X-rays had not prevented the monthly flow of blood in all but one woman. She had died.
Several of the young girls were already evincing symptoms of radiation sickness, their hair was falling out, their bodies bloating. Some of them were beginning to ulcerate.
The experiment had been going on for nine weeks now.
Hans enjoyed his job. At best, he would have been a second-rate doctor, and he knew it, although he never would have admitted it openly to anyone.
His father had been a first-rate surgeon, with a world-wide reputation. His brother was a famous cardiologist. His brother was a traitor. When his father had been shot for refusing to join the high echelons of the Army of the Reich, his brother had skipped to America.
But Hans had humbly accepted the post his father had refused. He had all the fame he wanted without the skill.
And he had power-power over the lives of men and women.
Now his status was threatened. The word had got out that Hitler was getting distrustful of his high command. There were rumors of a shake-up, of a possible coup.
Hitler was furious with the way the war was going, and he wanted it brought to a speedy end, wanted all departments to coordinate their resources to come up with solutions.
Hence that agonizing, prolonged meeting from which he had just come, and which had caused him to sweat so prolifically. Hans had a feeling that he was a marked man.
He could tell it by the way Colonel Aberhaus sneered at his suggestions; could tell it by the way Corporal Midden was applauded. There was a star on the rise!
The other possible fall guy was Karl Hemper, but Karl was a gray, washed-out entity anyway, a questionable officer, a weak man.
After the meeting, Karl had come up to him, obviously seeking some encouragement and made some tenatively disparaging remarks about the high-handed way in which Colonel Aberhaus, who should have chaired the meeting, turned it over to Hennie, how he dismissed the suggestions of the others and encouraged her in her proposals.
Hans had dismissed him. With a possible coup in the offing, now was no time to make adverse remarks about the high command. This was not the time to abrade sensibilities worn thin and ragged by the way the war was careening to a dead halt, nowhere.
Hitler only wanted yes-men around him, men who would agree with him and obey without question.
Examining his peculiar conscience in the solitude of his office, he couldn't fault himself on his performance. He had carried through every order, no matter how distasteful, to the letter.
He was most careful to explore the medical reports coming from the concentration camps, and he duplicated every experiment performed in the camps, or in outlying regions where stocks of defectives could be found.
His mistake, he decided, was a minor one-that of competing openly with Corporal Hennie Midden. She was too well-allied. She lived with Franz Mittelstein, whose power was considerable, and she was in favor with Hitler's aides.
And he had been too hasty at the meeting, baiting her in his enthusiasm to ingratiate himself with his superiors. It would have been better to have sat back and be silent, as Captain Otto Witman had done.
But no, that might have been evidence of indifference, when what was needed was absolute, fanatic loyalty to the cause of the Third Reich.
There was a light tap on his door.
"Come!" he barked, surlily.
The door opened smartly, and a handsome young white-coated man stepped into office.
"Reports on the day's medical experiments, Doctor."
"Give it here," Hans said, holding out his hand. He scanned the reports. Once again the nineteen women had been bombarded with X-rays. Suddenly, as he came to the bottom of one page his hand slammed on the desk.
"What is this?"
"What, Doctor?"
Anxiously, the young, white-coated man looked over his shoulder.
"This! What do you think I'm talking about!" Hans snarled, his teeth clenched.
"Oh, that was Ann Rothstein...."
"I know the name!" Hans bellowed.
"She died while she was being treated, Doctor."
"How did that happen?"
"Natural causes, Doctor," the white-coated man said, still anxious, but cool.
"You didn't vary her dosage in any way?"
"No, Doctor."
Hans read on, looking for mistakes, looking for something with which he could berate his medical assistants.
As he turned the page and continued to peruse the reports, his face got red. He stood up, bunching the page which had caused his anger in his right hand and shook it in the medical assistant's face.
"And what is this?" Hans snarled.
With a trembling hand, the medical assistant reached for the page, which Hans relinquished, and smoothed it out so he could read it.
"Rachel Perlmutter," the medical assistant read. "Started to bleed early this afternoon. Menses...."
"Menstruating? What is the meaning of that? Are you sure you are conducting these experiments as they have been described by Dr. Myer?"
"Doctor Keitl, they are being duplicated exactly."
"But this defective bitch has her period!"
Hans stormed to the door, and flung it open. The heels of his highly-polished boots beat a sharp stacatto rhythm on the floor as he stormed down to the massive room where the young guinea pigs languished in their agony-an agony which Hans dismissed because after all it was all in the cause of the purification of the race, the elimination of defectives.
He swung the thick door open. It banged back against the marble wall with a loud retort, which startled the other medical assistants circulating on various heinous chores in the laboratory.
The room was filled with occasional screams, and the steady low moan of women so long in pain that their sense of it had been dulled.
He strode down the double row of tables to which the naked women were strapped until he came to one near the end. He stood in front of it.
The girl was once exquisite, and her beauty, even in agony, disfigured by radiation sickness, could not be denied.
She couldn't have been more than fifteen. Her breasts were full and ripe like melons, and her chest flowed away to a long slender waist, and soft, full hips.
Her belly, like the bellies of the other woman, was a gaping, yawning, blood-colored hole with unhealthy splotches of purple.
And from between her spread-eagled legs could be seen a trickle of blood, coming from her vagina.
Hans thrust his finger into the girl's pussy roughly. The girl whimpered, her legs stiffening in their bonds, as Hans twirled his finger around roughly, and then removed it. It was covered with her menstrual blood.
Hans wiped the blood on a cloth hanging from the side of the table, and then bent over the young girl's face.
"You will not cooperate! You defectives are all alike!" he screamed. He started to slap her face brutally, first one cheek and then the other, until her head snapped back and forth as if her neck were broken.
She whimpered, but there was no scream from her. She was too weak, too close to death.
He turned to the medical assistant who had given him the reports, and who had followed him into the laboratory.
"Put her in the operating room. I am going to do a vivisection. There must be some reason why this experiment isn't working!"
"Perhaps Dr. Myer was wrong?" the ill-advised medical assistant said. Hans rounded on him.
"Perhaps you would like to be reported for disloyalty? A doctor on the surgical staff of the Army of the Third Reich cannot be wrong!"
The young man paled slightly, nodded, and then, without another word, he wheeled the table into a room at one end of the long chamber in which the woman were immured in their suffering.
Hans followed him in, as he positioned the table under the brilliant lights, and then watched as the medical assistant turned them on and wheeled a table of instruments beside the table.
The girl stirred, and trembled in the straps which held her bound, her eyes growing wide, as she saw the tray.
"You may leave," Hans said, putting on a white coat so as not to soil his uniform.
"You don't want help?"
"I said I'll do it myself!" Hans bellowed at the top of his lungs. "That way I know it will be done right!"
The medical assistant's mouth twitched slightly. He bowed, and left the room swiftly, closing the door after him.
Hans picked up a scalpel, totally oblivious of the girl's sobs, of the fact that she was struggling against her bonds.
He had no heart for the whining of defectives. For the most part they disgusted him. He bent over the gaping wound which his own hands had made nine weeks before.
A strange and very funny thought hit him as he leaned over, meaning to cut the girl's womb right out of her belly. It was so funny that he grinned, and the grin turned into a loud, raucous laugh.
What would that pear-shaped organ, those coiled tubes look like if she were being fucked? It wouldn't have been the first time he had taken his pleasure from a girl, or a young boy, but this was different. This would be something that might be medically interesting.
He dropped the scalpel on the tray, and opened his white coat. Then he positioned himself at the foot of the table. The table was hinged where the girl's knees were, and he dropped it.
She screamed as the strained position wracked her agonized belly. But her ass was still too far back. Hans loosened the straps which bound her hands, and pulled her down so that her ass was right at the edge of the table. This further strained the girl's belly, and she was making gasping, strangled noises, as he strapped her hands in their new position.
Then he unzipped his fly, and reached in to pull out his manhood.
No, that wouldn't do, the meticulous man said. She's menstruating, and he would get her filthy blood on the fly of his trousers.
He unbuckled his thick black belt and dropped his trousers and his shorts, and then pressed his already tumescent fuck pole against her bleeding, tiny hole.
Pressing against her pelvic bones with the palms of his hands to brace himself, and starting down into her abdominal cavity, he thrust inward, gasping at the tightness of her moist, warm sheath.
The girl let out a strangled cry, and her body stiffened.
Hans, staring at the little pear-shaped organ, which was blotched with purpose burn marks, noticed nothing.
And then he grinned, his demented mind revolving salaciously around an expansion of his sexual experiment. What did her pussy look like when she had an orgasm.
He continued to thrust inward, and then saw, near the base of her womb, a slight rippling motion.
He started to move in and out of her pussy, feeling his balls swelling with a hot load of scum. The abrasion of her silky-soft pussy walls against his raging prick shot through him so that even his spine felt electrified with pleasure sensations.
The girl's whimpering sounds, as he continued to thrust in and out of her ravaged womanhood, turned into soft gasps. He felt the moisture increase in her cunt, as he continued to pump his prick in and out of her hot little hole.
He reached down and searched between her plump white outer lips, his fingers fumbling in the soft folds of flesh, looking for her clitoris. He found the little button and began to squeeze it as he took his pleasure from her wounded womanhood.
The girl's body started to quiver. The sight of her trembling nakedness, the sight of her little pink nipples puckering as she felt pleasure in spite of her agony, caused a heavy rush of hot blood to swell his prick even more as he pumped it in and out of her agonized womanhood.
The sweat poured from his body as his balls throbbed with the heavy load of scum which boiled in them.
As he squeezed her clitoris between the thumb and forefinger of his hand, he felt the soft pink petals of flesh swelling, getting slimy and moist with the juices of her excitement.
His asshole was on fire as he continued to shove his prick into her, burying his cruel sword to the hilt in her creaming cunt. The juices trickled out of her stuffed pussy, and turned Hans's pubic hairs into a slimy wet mat.
His cock throbbed powerfully, the tip of it burned with the excitement which surged through him, as he lunged into the depths of her cunt again and again.
The girl was sobbing now, her eyes rolling back in her head. Her mouth was wide open, and her face was flushed, as the doctor pumped his prick in and out of her tiny tunnel.
He felt her pussy flesh give way, but the feeling was radically different from what his lust-blurred eyes were able to perceive. He saw slight rippling motions in her flesh, but nothing that would confirm an impending orgasm.
And then he felt the mild convulsions which caused her pussy walls to grip tightly around his hard-driving prick.
Hans was no longer capable of observing anything. The sweat poured copiously from his body. The muscles in his back seemed to contract, causing him to arch backward slightly.
His buttocks muscles clamped into stone-hard clumps of flesh, as he lunged deeper and deeper into the girl's pussy.
The waves of relief flickered up and down his spine, and the hairs on the nape of his neck curled with the carnal excitement which washed over him.
His balls contracted, and he winced, letting out a low growl. His lunges jarred the captive girl's body.
Behind his closed eyelids, he saw bright flashes of light go off. His ears rang with the blood which boiled in his veins, and then his cock lurched and swelled in the tiny wet nest in which it was buried.
His come slit exploded with a seething load of viscid come cream. His balls churned up their thick load of liquid lust. It spewed into the captive girl's pussy, mixing with her own lavish come cream, and poured downward.
Hans felt as if his cock were plunging through a jar of warm honey, as he thrust inward with increasing violence.
His balls slapped brutally against the girl's quivering ass cheeks, as he sought to drive his prick right through her body and out of her throat.
He heard high-pitched mewling noises from the girl, which seemed to fade away and then become lower, like a rattling noise.
He kept lunging into her until he had emptied his heavy, pendulous balls of their load, and then his body, all the tension of the day, seemed to turn into heated liquid waves.
His heart was pounding wildly when he opened his eyes, and looked down at the girl's open, gaping abdomen.
He became furious with himself. He had not observed her orgasm. He shot a glance at her face, and then realized with a start that the girl had died.
Disgusted, he pulled out of her, and then bathed his blood-stained cock and hands.
Having completed the chore, he roughly ripped out her organs, weighing them, and examining them in the brilliant light which bathed the table.
Hans hadn't done so well in his pathology courses. He knew the flesh was burned, but the inside of her little womb was still pink and healthy-looking.
Perhaps Dr. Myer had inaccurately reported his experiment. Or perhaps the doctor had been dead wrong to begin with.
But, with a shake-up coming in the high command, Hans couldn't afford to point any fingers. He would just have to persist in the experiments. For all he knew, Dr. Myer might be one of Hitler's pets. Then where would he be if he accused the man of incompetence?
He needed every resource he had going for him, and one of those resources was silence-sitting back and just waiting. Those who waited things out quietly usually survived.
He washed his hands again, and then left the girl's eviscerated body in the room, to be disposed of by the medical assistant.
As he opened the door, he caught himself short, and looked at his watch. That would have been an oversight which he didn't think his superiors would allow.
Noting the time, he deducted five minutes, and then walked up to the desk near the door where a nurse was sitting, reading a novel.
"The patient, Rachel Perlmutter, died on the operating table at ten-fifteen," Dr. Keitl said.
The nurse looked up at him, pulled the file out, and looked for Rachel's papers.
Finding them, she noted the death.
"The cause?"
"Heart failure and hemorrhage," Hans said. "Very good, Doctor."
"Good night, Nurse."
Hans left the laboratory, not taking a backward look at the other eighteen women suffering in the room. Going to his office, he collected his papers, and then left to go to his hotel room.
His fucking the girl in that strange way had aroused him. Before he was halfway home, his cock had slithered down his thigh, and was pulsating with uncomfortable insistence.
Prostitutes could be had-for a big price-but they weren't around as much as they used to be before the war started to wind down.
He went to the elevator, and rose to the sixth floor of his hotel and walked down the corridor.
He rang a bell, and stood, smart and austere in his handsome uniform. When the door opened, he leaned against the door frame.
"Good evening, Fraulein Horstl. Have you a few moments to spare?"
"No, Dr. Keitl, I do not," the gorgeous blonde said, coolly.
"Are you sure?"
"What is it, Dominique?"
"Nothing, William. Nothing at all!"
"Nothing!" Hans hissed.
"Yes, you are nothing. I have a new lover, and he is far more important than you will ever be, you horse doctor. Don't you bother me again!"
Hans bridled with rage as the heavy mahogany door slammed in his face.
Dominique had always been rather contemptuous of him, but this was the worst she had been!
And in telling him that she had a new lover, one who was more important than he, she told him also that she had been using him.
"The filthy slut!" he snarled, going back to the elevator. "I will repay her for that," he muttered.
Going to his own room on the eighth floor, he made several phone calls and finally found a woman willing to come to his room. He paced the room waiting for her.
His fellow soldiers didn't seem to have the trouble he had getting girls. One of the reasons Hans had wanted to be a soldier in the Third Reich was that the uniform was sexy, and it attracted women like flies.
And of course, now there was the power to be had by being allied to the Third Reich.
His doorbell rang and he opened the door.
"What took you so long?" he snarled, yanking the lovely brunette by the arm into the room.
She gasped, her jaw slightly slack.
"I-I came as soon as you called!" she gasped.
Hans struck her brutally across the face. She staggered backward, and looked at him meekly.
By now his cock felt as if it were a foot long.
Leering at the distressed, sobbing young girl, he opened his fly, and pulled his raging manhood out of his pants.
"Eat this, you slut, and stop that miserable sniveling."
The girl went to her knees immediately, and grasped his prick at its hairy base. She opened her mouth and engulfed his cock head in her hot oral cavity.
Hans grasped her thick hair and pushed her face forward until he heard her gag, felt the convulsive spasm against his prick.
Then he started to fuck her mouth brutally. Gagging and moaning, the girl moved up and down on his massive prick, eventually controlling the gag reflex so that she could do proper service to Hans's prick.
He spewed a thick and heavy load into her mouth, thrusting deeply into her throat.
He smiled as he pulled away from her mouth.
She looked up at him, licking the come cream from the corners of her mouth.
"Now get undressed," he said. He was going to give her a run for her money.
At that moment, the phone shrilled loudly, and he jumped to answer it.
"Hello?"
The girl had her back turned to him as she removed her clothes. She didn't see Hans's face turn slightly white, didn't see the patina of sweat on his forehead, didn't observe the way his lips became compressed into a tight line.
"I'm very sorry about that," Hans said. "If there's anything at all I can do, please let me know. We have lost a long-time and valuable ally of the Third Reich. Yes. I'll see you in the morning."
He hung up the phone, and stalked to the bed on which the girl now lay, naked and apprehensive.
Absently, he started to remove his clothes, and then his disrobing acquired a frenetic quality, as did his subsequent fucking of the young girl.
Commandant Franz Mittelstein was dead of heart failure. Hans did not believe it for a moment.
It had started! The purge had begun, and Hans intended to survive, and to live, live to the hilt in the process.
This was no time for the lily-livered or the faint-hearted.
The girl, in response to his thought which took physical form, cried out in pain.
Hans didn't notice.
CHAPTER THREE
Hennie resented having to work on Franz first, and after the SS had come to investigate, been satisfied with her explanation, and taken the body away, she paced the living room, sipping brandy.
She decided that the person she hated most in the world was Hans Keitl. Hans was the most meager human being she had ever met, mean, incompetent, insensitive, and arrogant to boot.
She had slept with him once, as she slept with most men who were soldiers in the Third Reich. He was beastly when compared to Franz. Franz had to go because he was getting too soft.
Hans had to go simply because he was despicable. There was also Karl Hemper, but he was a little rat, and could be popped off last.
Feeling the weight of her enormous mission, and also her importance, she finally decided to call him. It was after midnight.
Hennie was tired, but also elated. There was a glorious future for her in successfully completing this high-level mission.
The war would not stay bogged down forever. Germany was destined to rule the world, and she, Hennie Midden, would share in Germany's glorious future, would have been a crucial factor in that success.
It was lack of commitment to the cause, corruption, which was bogging the war effort, and it had to be rooted out. It was inconceivable that the most powerful war machine ever known in the recorded history of man could be stopped-and it would not be!
Hitler was not unreasonable in exacting undying devotion, unswerving and fanatical obedience. A great cause demanded great effort.
Hans was foolish to call Hitler insane. The man was great and-he, and he alone, had pulled Germany up by her bootstraps. Hans's mouth would have to be closed-permanently.
In a way, she grieved for Franz. She could have loved him, if it were possible to love. But that was a soft emotion for this time and place, a selfish one. That could have come later.
She looked at her watch. It was late, well after one in the morning. By now the chiefs of staff would have been notified of the gap in their membership. It was Laurie Reifer's job to disseminate official information, and of course she had been notified of Franz's death. She would carefully spread the word. It wouldn't do for anyone in the high command to be surprised or shocked about something.
Laurie was Karl Hemper's mistress, although she preferred other women. Hennie shivered slightly and went to the window. It was starting to get light. Her long night of vigil had passed on wings.
She showered, dressed carefully, and went to breakfast at a quiet club which serviced Nazi officers. She sat alone, as befitted her bereaved status, and used the solitude to study her fellow officers.
Hans Keitl was sitting with Carla Oberhoff, one of the women who coordinated the concentration camps and supplied them with personnel. Hans was gesticulating wildly, as if grinding an ax. Carla looked amused.
At another table Colonel William Aberhaus was sitting with a new woman-a rather lovely woman, with silver-blond hair, and large eyes that were so blue, Hennie could see their color from where she sat.
Otto Witmann sat alone, austere, firm-lipped and admirable. He had been summoned from the front where he had distinguished himself for two years. His expertise was needed in Berlin for the moment.
Laurie Reifer left the table where she was sitting with Karl Hemper and Frederick Sanders and walked toward Hennie. She sat down opposite her, her eyes soft with sympathy.
"I'm sorry," she said putting her hand on top of Hennie's hand, where it lay on the table.
In an instant flash, Hennie's mind flew back four years. The armies of the Third Reich were on the move, and they were invincible. Poland had fallen, Czechoslovakia!
Hennie and Laurie belonged to the Hitler Youth Movement. They had both volunteered for the army together, and they were inducted together. Then they were sent to training camp, along with another young girl whom neither of them liked, Lotte Fiedler.
The work at first to the two young women seemed gruesome. They were trained to use weapons, to interrogate, to torture. They were tested and trained and pushed until they were in peak physical and psychological condition.
It was at that camp that Hennie had met Franz. She froze momentarily in total recall.
She had been sitting on her bunk, polishing her shoes. Laurie was sitting opposite to her. They were chatting about their plans, dreaming about their success in the glorious new order of the Third Reich, when Lotte had walked into the austere dormitory.
"Officer Franz Mittelstein wants to see you in his office, Hennie," she said, a sly smile on her face.
Hennie, trained to instant obedience, dropped her chore, and left the barracks, going instantly to Franz's office. He stood behind his desk, tall, handsome, almost awe-inspiring.
"Fraulein Midden, I am about to test your loyalty to the army of the Third Reich. This is a very important and very difficult lesson you are about to learn."
Hennie, thoroughly enamored of the handsome officer who seemed to hold such promise, nodded, and gulped, as much with anxiety as with desire. The very sight of Franz, whom, until this point she had only seen from a distance, made her cream in her pants.
"You will come with me," he said, striding from behind the desk. She followed him through the camp to the buildings used for interrogation. They were of brick, and they had no windows.
Having already participated in torture sessions, Hennie knew why. The screams which issued from some of the tortured were deafening.
They walked through the small lobby of the building, where a desk attendant signed them in.
Hennie, her heart beating violently against her rib cage, followed Franz down a long corridor. Occasionally, through one of the closed doors, she would hear screams or low, guttural moans.
At the end of the corridor, Franz opened the door, and stepped back, allowing Hennie to enter.
There were two officers already in the room. From the ceiling, dangling in manacles, was the naked body of a young man.
As usual, Hennie became aroused in the sight of suffering. It was a bizarre phenomenon that she couldn't account for and which she never dared share with anyone else.
The boy's cock was fully erect, which frequently happened to those men who were tortured. His buttocks were already flayed raw by a whip.
She walked up closer to him, and saw his face. In that one instant, she almost died of shock.
It was her brother, Niels. The two of them had always disagreed politically, but Hennie never expected him to act out his disagreement by becoming involved in some subversive plot.
"Niels Midden," Franz said, coming into the room after closing the door, "you have been accused of attempting to take the life of Hitler. We know you are involved in the plot. We have found guns and ammunition hidden in your apartment. Now we want you to name your co-conspirators."
A low, guttural moan issued from her brother's throat. Hennie kept her eyes riveted to his body and dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands, breathing deeply to recover from her shock.
"Answer!" Franz barked.
Niels let out a loud scream, as one of the officers again cut the raw flesh of his buttocks with the barbed whip he was wielding.
Franz looked at Hennie.
"Perhaps you would like to question Neils Midden?"
"Of course, Officer Mittelstein," she said, her voice steady. She stood in front of her older brother, and looked up at him. Both his eyes were swollen shut. His nose had been broken. Most of his teeth had been knocked out. He was drooling from the corner of his mouth, the saliva heavily mixed with blood.
The sight of him in that condition further aroused Hennie.
"Niels Midden, who are your co-conspirators?" she asked in a loud clear voice.
Her brother frowned, and tried to open his eyes, recognizing the voice.
"I will give you one more chance, Niels Midden!" Hennie declared in a loud, clear voice.
Aside from a moan, there was no sound from her brother. She went to a burning brazier, after a look of mute questioning to Franz, who nodded his head. She carefully picked out a red-hot branding iron with the swastika of the Third Reich glowing redly at the tip of it, and walked back to Niels.
"Once again, Niels Midden, who are your co-conspirators?"
Her hands were freezing, and she wondered if she would have the courage to go through with the torture. Granted, there had been no love lost between the brother and sister, still she recoiled from the idea of scarring him for life, or possibly killing him, and if he didn't talk, he would surely die.
Mustering enormous strength, Niels managed to spit at her. The blood-stained spittle landed on her immaculately clean uniform jacket.
Hennie paused for the count of ten. They had been trained never to lose their tempers with their victims. It gave the victim the upper hand.
Then using a smooth, firm motion, she applied the burning brand to her brother's left nipple.
The acrid smell of burning flesh filled the room, and she could hear the skin sizzling as the red-hot iron cooked it. Her brother opened his blood-blackened mouth and let out a horrendous scream, his body jerking and bouncing in its bonds, as the branding iron left its mark.
She took the brand away and looked at Niels. He was still kicking and groaning, his body quivering as it dangled from the manacles.
It suddenly became very important for her to get the names of Niels' co-conspirators from him. It would certainly tell in her favor on her records. She waited until his body had subsided somewhat.
He was gasping with the horrendous agony of his burned nipple.
"Will you give us the names of your co-conspirators?" she asked again, her voice level, cool.
She waited for a count of ten, and then waited for another count. Then she plunged the burning brand into his right nipple. Once again she smelled his burning flesh, heard the sizzle. Her brother's cry of agony was louder this time, almost ear-shattering.
The dark blood oozed from his left pectoral where his nipple had been. When she removed the burning brand from his right nipple, another strand of blood and plasma trickled down his flat belly.
She frowned, and plunged the branding iron back in the brazier to get it red-hot again. As she waited, she thought about Niels. What was his weakness? Where could she batter his defenses so thoroughly that he would break?
And then she remembered eavesdropping on a conversation he had had with some friends once. They were bragging about their sexual exploits. At one point in the titillating conversation which had been very enlightening for Hennie who was five years younger than Niels, he had said he would rather die than live without his manhood.
She pulled the iron out of the burning coals, and stepped in front of her brother again.
"I must remind you, Niels Midden," she said quietly, but forcefully, "that we will not kill you, but you will have to live with the results of your stubbornness. You have acted traitorously, and you must pay for your treachery. So must your co-conspirators. Once again, who are your co-conspirators?"
A loud moan was Niels' reply to her question.
Hennie turned her attention to the two Nazis.
"Spread his legs apart," she ordered.
The Nazis flanked Neils on both sides. She looked for reassurance at Franz who smiled and nodded, obviously pleased.
The two Nazis crouched down and roughly spread Niels' legs out until he winced and cried out from the strain. Then he started to pant.
"You are a traitor, Neils Midden," Hennie intoned. "And a traitor is not a man. Therefore, you do not need your genitals."
"Noooo!" Niels wailed, struggling violently in his bonds.
With his balls clearly exposed, Hennie was free to push the branding iron between his thighs, under his tumescent cock. She approached slowly, very slowly, until faintly, she smelled the hairs burning.
Her brother's gasps had become whimpers, and then he screamed in a high-pitched, rasping tone.
"No, don't!" he shrieked, "I'll talk! I'll talk!"
Franz stepped quickly in front of him, and her brother, almost hysterical with fear, rattled off the names of those who were in on the plot with him. Hennie knew several of the men and women. They had come often to her home to visit with her brother.
As she looked back on it, standing in front of his broken, bleeding body, she realized that he had been against the ideas of Hitler from the first, and had allied himself early with those who thought as he did.
Franz left the room to give the names to the desk attendant, who would call security headquarters with the information. They would be rounded up before nightfall.
When he came back into the room, he was smiling warmly at Hennie. She had put the brand back in pot of burning coals and awaited her next order.
"Shoot him," Franz ordered the Nazis quietly. "Well done, Fraulein Midden. Come with me."
She was trembling only slightly when she stepped once again into Franz's office. He sat her down on the couch, and poured brandy for her and himself, and then sat on the couch beside her.
"That was heroic work, Hennie," he said, using her given name for the first time. Hennie trembled.
She felt strangely aroused, and weak with desire. The closeness of the tall, handsome man was devastating to her.
"Thank you," she said, managing to keep her voice quite clear and firm. The brandy undid the effects of the shock.
Never again would she think her work or her training difficult. She had just done the worst thing any human being could do, but it was for the cause of the Third Reich. And never once did she question that cause.
"You will go far. You have fortitude and an unwavering strength born of your convictions. I think I shall make you my protege," Franz said.
Hennie looked at him and smiled, blushing with the compliment.
"Thank you," she said again. Franz laughed.
"Show me how grateful you are," he said, his voice guttural. Hennie had learned, along with all the other girls in the army of the Third Reich, that they must sexually service the men. Hennie had found that the least onerous of her chores, and she was more than willing to lean over and unzip Franz's fly.
She reached in, and pulled out his lusty meat, and gasped at the thickness and the length of it.
Her creaming cunt became more inflamed with desire, as she pumped up and down on it a little, and then leaned over, meaning to take it in her mouth.
"No, not in your mouth," Franz said. He had leaned back against the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him.
Hennie understood. With one swift motion, she arched her hips up, slipped her panties off, and then, lifting her skirt above her waist, she straddled Franz's lean hips.
Reaching down, she grasped his massive prick and pressed his cock head against her drooling hole, and then started to slither down on it.
His cock head breached her sex slit, spreading the pink walls wide. She gasped as she felt the pulsating power of his manhood cleaving through her pink flesh, as she continued to lower herself on his prick until he was buried balls-deep in her hot wet nest.
Her juices flowed like honey from her well-stuffed hole, as she braced her hands on Franz's shoulders. His hands moved over her breasts, and then he opened her tunic, reaching in to caress her bare tits.
"Oooh!" she moaned, as she felt his fingers kneading the warm resilient flesh of her boobs.
She started to rise and fall on his prick, feeling her thighs trembling with a growing excitement as she massaged the itching walls of her pussy with his massive meat.
Franz grunted as he caressed Hennie's tits, until she felt them swelling with passion, throbbing the way her pussy throbbed with lusty blood.
She looked at Franz's handsome face. His eyes glowed with lust and there was a faint flush of passion on his cheeks. The sight of his contorted expression only aroused Hennie further.
She moved up and down on his massive spear faster and harder. Franz's cock swelled in her teeming twat, and he started to buck upward, his hairy loins battering Hennie's sex flesh.
Her mind shot back to the torture session with her brother, and a hot rush of orgasmic pleasure surged through her.
She felt her inner sex flesh tingling as she rose and fell on Franz's monstrous shaft of meat.
Franz's hands moved from her breasts downward to her ass cheeks. He started to knead the soft flesh of her buns as he bucked up into her, his upward motions matching her downward lunges.
Her cuntal walls closed in around his prick as a delicious pre-orgasmic tension surged through her.
Her clitoris popped out of its fleshy sheath, stimulated by the repetitive contact with Franz's hairy loins, and it felt as if it were on fire.
Her juices gushed lavishly from her well-stuffed hole, as she rode Franz's prick. She felt the first throes of her orgasm rippling in the depths of her womanhood, and she moaned, her body sagging forward slightly.
Franz bucked upward more and more furiously, as the orgasm suffused her body with wild hot sweet convulsions.
Her pussy muscles cramped around Franz's prick. She felt as if her snatch had turned into a sucking mouth, as she rose and fell with increasing frenzy on Franz's prick.
And then she felt the tremor of passion which gripped his body. He thrust upward violently, jarring her body, and she felt the hot wet kiss of his gism. He thrust inward again and again, his cock head prying deeper into her teeming twat than any cock had ever done before.
Her grip on his shoulders tightened, and she rested her forehead against his shoulder as she rose and fell on his prick, grinding her swollen pussy flesh against his hair-covered loins in her wanton response to the climax which surged through her.
Franz's juices mixed hotly with her own come cream, and swelled the tide which flowed out of her convulsing cunt. She felt her orgasm peak, and then it started to fade away, but slowly, and for as long as she felt even a tingling sensation in the depths of her chaotic cunt, she continued to grind against his loins, to rise and fall on his prick.
Franz shot the last of his wad into her pussy, and continued to pump into her long after he had emptied his balls, until her own orgasm had faded away.
Then he framed her face with his hands and brought her mouth hard against his. She felt his tongue exploring her orifice, felt his cock throbbing, still semi-hard, in her soggy marsh of lust.
She squeezed her cuntal walls around his prick, and surrendered to his sensual kiss, moaning with the pleasure she felt.
He broke the kiss and looked deeply into her eyes. .
"I see you take all your duties with the same seriousness," he said, his voice breathy from his sexual upheaval.
She smiled.
"That was pure pleasure," she responded.
"For me, also. Go to your barracks. You will receive new orders presently. I am going to make you my assistant, and give you charge of a detail of girls in training."
Awed by her new status, she rose off Franz's prick. His crotch was stained with her juices. She smiled, and pulled her pants on and went back to her barracks.
On the way back, she remembered Lotte's sly smile. What had the girl known? Lotte had grown up with Laurie and Hennie, but she had been much wealthier than the other two girls, and she was known for being a snob.
As a pure Aryan, she had a right to it, but it rankled, nevertheless.
She walked into the barracks, and sat down on her bed for a moment, to recover her reeling senses. Laurie, who had lain down on her cot, sat up, and took Hennie's hands in hers, looking sorrowfully into her blue eyes. ' "I'm sorry," she had said softly.
Hennie gasped.
"Why?" she asked, guarding her expression carefully.
"Lotte told me. You were forced to torture your own brother. Was it terrible?"
To hide the smug smile on her face, Hennie leaned forward, and rested her head on her friend's shoulder.
"Nothing, ever again in my life, will ever appear so hard or horrible," she said, speaking a partial truth.
"Lotte was so nasty about it," Laurie said, caressing Hennie's silken hair. Hennie could feel Laurie's moist breath puffing in feathery wisps against her cheek, and she knew that Laurie was excited.
It didn't matter to Hennie. The women were trained to service other women as well as men, and Hennie liked Laurie.
Before long, they were locked together nakedly, writhing on Laurie's bed. In her attempt to provide solace for Hennie, Laurie gave her three orgasms before it was time to go to their next drill.
What Hennie had loved more than anything, two days later, was the public announcement, made at dinner, that Hennie was promoted as an under-commander, officially in charge of her own platoon of girls.
Laurie was thrilled for Hennie, but Lotte had turned stark white as she looked at the lovely blonde who was now her superior officer!
Middle-class Hennie Midden could now lord it over Lotte Fiedler, and for Lotte, the rest of training camp was sheer, unadulterated agony, because Hennie never let her forget all the sharp jibes, the contempt that Lotte had once heaped on her.
"Hennie?"
Hennie came back from the reverie, startled, and looked into Laurie's eyes. An ineffable sadness swept over her. She smiled mournfully, and squeezed Laurie's hands and nodded.
"Thank you, my friend. It will be all right," Hennie said. She rose from the table, and picked up her brief case.
"Surely you could take the day off," Laurie gasped.
"Work is very good to dispel one's troubles, and in these times, we can't afford to waste time on ourselves."
"You're a stronger woman than I am, Hennie," Laurie said appreciatively.
Hennie patted Laurie on the shoulder.
"That," she said, "remains to be seen. I do not think any of us has been tested to our limit yet. But it will happen. It will happen."
She left the club and went to her headquarters.
The large inner office which had been Franz's seemed to be haunted by his ghost. She shivered and closed the door after she had retrieved some papers.
She had to be strong, and sentimentality, remorse, were weaknesses.
She applied herself to her work.
CHAPTER FOUR
At first Hennie was surprised when Hans came to her desk to express his condolences, to praise the dead man.
But his servile manner, and the way he looked at her eventually spelled the message out for the woman.
She knew Hans was slightly afraid of her. She had more power, was closer to those in power, than he was.
Also, the medical department of the Army of the Third Reich had come under severe censure because of the money they seemed to be spending on experiments that didn't work, particularly that experiment dearest to Hitler's heart: that of effectively and cheaply sterilizing defectives so that they could not breed.
He also lusted after her, and he had since they were in training camp together. She wasn't fond of Hans's method of love-making. It was brutal beyond the norm of brutality which she had come to expect from most Nazi shoulders.
Hans seemed to enjoy making people suffer which disgusted Hennie. She would do whatever she had to do for the sake of the Third Reich and its welfare, but beyond what was required, she would not go.
"Perhaps," he said, as he finished his unctuous eulogy, "you would care to spend the weekend at my cabin in the mountains? It might be a refreshing change for you."
Hennie smiled at the baldness of the suggestion, and then she considered her options.
"I'm very grateful to you, Hans, but I think so soon after Franz's death...." She allowed her eyes to tear up, allowed one tear to flow downward. "Well, it would be rather unseemly, don't you think? After all, I didn't live with him out of duty, but rather because I loved him."
Hans's hand rested on her slender shoulder as she heaved a sigh.
"I understand," he said, his voice low. "But no one need know. I will give you the key to the cabin, and you may go up as if you were going alone. I will come up later, when I am sure I will not be discovered."
"I could use the rest," Hennie said, heaving another sigh. "Let me think about it. I shall tell you tomorrow after the meeting."
She enjoyed keeping Hans hanging on tenterhooks.
At the next high command meeting, there were eight instead of nine. It was prolonged. Otto Witmann made a report on methods of recruitment which included impressing into service prisoners of war.
He was roundly applauded by Colonel Aberhaus for his suggestion. At least the prisoners of war would be earning their keep.
It was discussed and argued heavily, and Hennie noticed that Hans not only kept his mouth shut, but seemed to be rather smug. He spent a lot of time staring at her, occasionally nodding at something she said.
When the meeting was almost ready to adjourn, a bell went off warningly in Hennie's head.
Two could play the deadly game she was playing, she by necessity, someone else by choice.
She avoided Hans's face, not wanting him to see the sudden suspicion which had jarred her.
When the meeting was over, Hans waited for her in the hall. It gave her a pang to hear him calling her voice. Two days before it had been Franz.
They walked together until she was near her office and she stopped and looked at the brutal doctor. She smiled, and knew that the smile was sweet.
"Oh, by the way, I appreciate your offer, and I accept it."
Hans's eyes acquired a brilliant glitter, and Hennie was assured of his intentions. A thin cold shiver of apprehension shot up and down her spine, and then she sucked her gut in. This was war. She could not shirk her duty.
She felt Hans's hand near hers. They were standing in a small alcove of the corridor, but there was no one near.
Quickly she palmed the key which he slipped to her, and then he walked away.
She put the key in her pocket and walked to her office to make out her report. The next meeting would be on Monday morning.
Hennie made it a point of telling people that Hans had kindly given her the key to his cabin, and that she would be leaving Friday evening to spend the weekend there.
If all went well, Hennie was sure it would be a peaceful vacation for her. Friday afternoon, she waited in her office until Hans had left. She heard him making an appointment to meet some of his friends at the Club of the Two Angels for supper.
That meant that he would go home to change. Hennie left the office right after Hans had, and, taking a roundabout route, wound up at his hotel. She grinned as she went in the back way, and took the service stairs to his floor. Entering the hall, she peered in both directions.
There was no one around. From behind one door, she heard raucous laughter and then the squeals of a woman. Some soldiers were having a party.
At Hans's door, she paused, pressed her ear against it. She heard nothing. She pulled some skeleton keys out of her pocket and tried them in the lock. The first two didn't work, but the third one did.
Her heart was beating like a trip-hammer against her rib cage, as she opened the door cautiously, and slipped into the room.
From an open door to her right, she heard a hissing sound and singing.
Hans was taking a shower. She pulled her Luger, affixed a silencer to it, and walked through the bedroom, closing the heavy oak door after her, to further diminish the sound.
Then she approached the bathroom. She slipped through the door, closing it behind her, and watched the nude shadow of Hans through the curtains.
"Hans," she called.
The singing stopped suddenly.
"What?" he gasped, roughly parting the shower curtains. He gasped, and reared backward as he saw Hennie, leaning against the bathroom door, pointing her Luger at him.
"Hans, tell me the truth," Hennie said with a subtle smile playing on her mouth, "you were going to kill me this weekend, weren't you?"
"Have you gone mad?" Hans gasped. "Hennie, put that gun away!"
The gun popped dully, and Hans's body jerked and then seemed to fold over, as he collapsed on the floor of the white enameled tub.
The bullet had gone into his throat, but not killed him. That was exactly what Hennie wanted, and she had been well trained at the camp to do it.
She put the gun down on the side of the sink, and then slipped out of her clothing. She walked toward the tub and then stepped in.
Hans, stunned from the bullet, was now beginning to struggle. Hennie turned off the shower, and picked up the gun from the sink which was right beside the tub, and aimed it at Hans's head.
"Well, Hans? Tell me," Hennie said. The irony of the whole situation was that it was Hans who had taught her this method of liquidation, and it was the reason that Hennie had decided to employ it.
Hans was making funny grunting noises. The hole in his throat provided some way for him to breathe, but the blood was pouring down his throat, drowning him.
Hennie looked over his body, which was spare and as powerful as most Nazis' bodies.
Not being able to speak, Hans shook his head no vigorously, and Hennie laughed. As he shook his head, his cock rose, standing stiff and straight.
Hennie leaned over and grasped it. There was nothing harder or thicker than a dying man's cock, as Hennie well knew. Hans had taught her the lesson too well for her to overlook it now, and she straddled his hips, pressing his cock head against her drooling hole.
The insidious sense of power which had gripped her from the moment she divined Hans's intentions for her, built as she pressed downward, feeling his prick spreading her pussy walls wide.
"Ahhh!" she gasped. Hans's hands came up to grasp at her arms feebly.
But Hans was slowly dying, and Hennie was at the height of her power, which was augmented by her sexual arousal.
Putting the gun on the floor outside the tub, she grasped Hans's wrist with one hand as she slammed downward. Hans's prick pierced through her wet and teeming flesh and his cock head butted against the fleshy roof of her cave of lust.
Using the heel of her other hand, she pressed against Hans's fingers.
A strangled cry gurgled up from Hans's pierced throat, as Hennie pushed backward against Hans's fingers. She heard the dull pop as several finger bones became dislocated.
Hans bucked up against her, as he reached with his good hand, the fingers like claws.
But Hennie swiftly and efficiently performed the same ritual on his other hand, leaving him still alive but totally helpless.
Then Hennie leaned forward, and slowly, lasciviously ground her pussy meat against Hans's hairy loins. She pressed her palms against his wet shoulders to brace herself, her fabulous jugs hanging down, and jiggling with her grinding motions, as she circled her hips around and around on Hans's hairy pubes, stimulating her already swollen pussy flesh so that it swelled and throbbed.
She felt her juices gushing out of her cunt, as his cock throbbed in her creaming pussy.
Her clitoris tingled and popped out of its fleshy sheath. The little love button was inflamed with erotic excitement, as she continued to squirm around in circles on Hans's hairy loins.
His breathing became more and more labored, and his motions weaker, as the life dripped out of him from the hole in his throat. She knew that most of his blood was pouring down his throat.
His face became paler and paler, as she squirmed around on his prick. She would have loved to time her orgasm with the moment of his death, but she knew that wasn't very likely.
As the sexual heat built in her womanhood, she started to rise and fall on his prick, feeling it rubbing against her itching, creaming pussy walls, driving her crazy.
Her breath started to hiss from her own throat. Hans was staring at her, his expression a combination of terror and hatred. His hands had swollen and already the dislocated fingers had bloated and turned purple. She watched him trying to clench his fists, watched him give himself added pain which only weakened him further.
Twice he brought his arm up, and managed to strike mild blows against her side, as she brought herself off on his dying body, but there wasn't much effect. He was too weak even to bruise her soft white flesh.
"It's all for the good of the Third Reich," she gasped, her voice hoarse with lust. "You have spoken against Hitler. You have wasted money. You have tasted power and would never be satisfied with less.
"We are going to purify the high command, make it fit to carry on this war and win it," she intoned.
Another weird sound issued from Hans's throat. He was getting so exhausted that there would be pauses between his labored breathing. He struggled more and more to get air into his lungs, and this struggle further sapped his strength.
He had no more energy left to fight with Hennie. It was almost as if he had resigned himself to the inevitable.
She rose and fell on his massive manhood, squeezing her pussy muscles around his raging rod, as she rose and fell on it, feeling the orgasmic pressure increase in the depths of her raging belly.
Her flesh crawled, and her body swelled with the heated passion which suffused her.
Her nipples had long since become puckered. The little pink buds stood out from the round resilient mounds of flesh like erasers on a brand-new pencil.
She closed her eyes, and felt the sweat pouring from her body as the fiery pin-pricks of orgasmic pleasure gripped her sex flesh.
Her cunt seemed to close in on itself, as she started to climax. She felt the rippling waves of pleasure spread outward. Her whole body seemed to be consumed with a fire, as she rose and fell furiously on Hans's prick.
As the life oozed out of him, his prick became harder and hotter. The pressure built in the depths of her pussy as she writhed with increasing frenzy against his loins.
The convulsions got stronger and stronger, and Hennie felt her ears ringing with the lusty blood which boiled through her.
At the height of her orgasm, she stiffened. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she let out a great cry of raging passion, as her body quivered stiffly. For a moment, she almost felt as if she had received a powerful jolt of electricity.
Then she started to come down slowly. She continued to rise and fall on Hans's prick, until the last sweet spasm had died away.
Hans was still quivering, and struggling for breath as she pulled herself off his stiff prick.
He had not ejaculated.
His eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of his head, when Hennie stepped out of the tub and put her clothes back on. Her juices still oozed out of her tingling hole when she picked up her gun, and aimed it again-this time at Hans's head.
He reared up, his desperation giving him strength he ought not to have had, and Hennie pressed the gun on his forehead between his eyes, and shot again.
The back of his head came off, splattering against the white enamel of the tub.
Hennie put the gun in its holster, and turned the shower back on. She left the hotel as cautiously as she had entered it, making sure she wasn't seen.
It was a quick trip back to the administration quarters. With the exception of a skeleton staff, it was now empty. Using the back service stairs, she went to a certain office on the fourth floor and opened a drawer. In that drawer was a holster with a gun in it.
Hennie took it out and attached it around her waist. She took two bullets from the loops in the belt she had worn to Hans's hotel apartment, replaced the ones she. had expended, wiped the gun clean and put it in the drawer.
The staff were becoming so sloppy they might never discover from what Luger the bullets were fired, but if they did by chance become thorough, then she had killed, so to speak, two birds with one stone.
An hour and a half later, having driven like a mad woman over back roads, she was sitting in front of a blazing fire in Hans's cabin in the mountains, sipping brandy.
Two hours later, there was the sound of a car pulling up in front of the elegant log building. A harsh knocking sounded at the door.
Hennie went to the door and asked who was there.
"General Otto Witmann!" came the authoritative reply.
Hennie quickly opened the door, surprised.
"General! What brings you here?" she asked.
"You must get dressed and come immediately to headquarters," the general ordered.
"Of course," she said. She went quickly to the bedroom, and dressed. She packed her small overnight case, which she had been quite careful to unpack, and stepped out into the main living room.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, noting that the general was examining the Luger which she had hung on a peg near the door.
He looked at her and smiled.
"You keep your small arms very well," he said.
She smiled.
"I was trained well," Hennie replied.
He gave her the gun which she strapped on, and they left, Hennie following him back to Berlin. She had plenty of time to think, plenty of time to get and keep control of her nerves.
She had been surprised that General Witmann would have summoned her back to the city, and when he had refrained from answering any of her questions, she stopped asking them.
She had to be careful. He could have come out to summon her because they had discovered Hans murdered, although it wasn't likely that the general himself would take a personal interest in that, beyond the general apprehension all such murders aroused that a possible coup was being effected.
The general could have come to fetch her simply because of some top-secret development in the war itself.
The headquarters was lit up, and teeming with people.
In the staff conference room where she followed the general were Colonel William Aberhaus, Commander Frederick Sampler, Karl Hemper, Laurie Reifer and Carla Oberhoff.
There were several aides circulating and coffee was brought.
"Now, are we all here?" the colonel asked, as the general and Hennie took their places at the conference table.
"Yes, sir!" the colonel replied.
"Begging your pardon, is this a full staff meeting?" Hennie asked.
"It is, Hennie."
"Then we are missing Hans Keith"
"We are indeed, Hennie," Colonel Aberhaus said, grimly.
"Hans is dead," Laurie said to Hennie.
Hennie gasped. Holding her breath for a count of ten, her face flushed and then paled as she looked at each person present at the conference table.
"I don't understand," she said, when she released her breath quietly, her voice hoarse from the effort, "how?"
"He was murdered. He was missed from the Club of the Two Angels where he was expected for dinner. When Lieutenant Mark Schmidt called his hotel, there was no answer and he went with his companions to investigate.
"Hans had been shot twice-once in the throat and once between the eyes."
"Treachery!" gasped Hennie, apprehensively eyeing the assembled members of the high command.
"That is what I am afraid of," General Witmann said gravely.
"This is serious!" Karl Hemper exclaimed. There was sweat gleaming on his forehead. "First it was Mittelstein, and now Keitl. Something's afoot!"
"I think we can disregard Mittelstein as murder. What do you think, Hennie?" Colonel Aberhaus asked.
"I think so. I was sleeping beside him when he-he went."
"No, no, there was nothing, according to the SS report, to indicate murder in his case," the general said. "But Hans is different. Hans may have been the first victim in a general coup, an attempt to overthrow Hitler's auxiliary regime in Berlin."
"I think the Fuhrer should be informed," Karl said.
"He has been," the general said.
The conference went on until dawn. Everyone was questioned about his or her wherabouts. And plans were made to pursue Hans's murderer.
Hitler, in his bunker in the mountains, sent two generals to assist the beleaguered high command which still remained in Berlin.
They were more thorough than the general staff at headquarters. Hitler had, of course, taken his best men with him.
Karl Friedrich and Max Brieden searched the hotel room, searched Hans's laboratories, where all experiments had been temporarily suspended, pending the appointment of another head of medical research, and the offices in the headquarters were systematically searched.
And then one day both Karl and Max were found sitting in Karl Hemper's office when he walked in.
Karl always had a slightly furtive air. He was a constant prey to his own fears. Karl, as it turned out, was his own worst enemy.
"Goo-good afternoon, gentlemen," he said, pausing in the doorway.
"Good afternoon, Hemper," Karl Friedrich said. He was sitting behind Hemper's desk. Hemper paused, looking at the cool, blond man, and his mouth twitched. Friedrich fixed Hemper with a keen stare, and without averting his gaze, he opened Hemper's top right drawer and pulled out the holster with the Luger in it.
"What is this doing in your desk?" Friedrich asked.
Hemper laughed nervously, and lifted the flap of his uniform tunic.
"I-I'm afraid I use this," he said. "It-it's not quite part of the uniform, not quite up to regulations, but it was my father's pistol, and I'm sentimentally attached to it."
Behind him, Max rose, and pulled the gun out of Hemper's holster, and examined it.
"You haven't used this for a while, have you?" Max said, when he had examined the barrel, which was clean.
"N-no, I haven't," Hemper said.
"But you have used this," Karl Friedrich said, pulling the Luger out of its holster and waving it at the nervous Hemper.
"I-why, no! I mean, target practice."
"Was your last target Hans Keitl?" Karl Friedrich asked brusquely.
Hemper's jaw dropped and then snapped shut. He gulped loudly.
"No," he said, in barely a whisper.
"The barrel is dirty," Karl Friedrich said. "We are placing you under arrest, and then we will do tests on this gun."
He rose as Max clapped his hand on Karl Hemper's shoulder authoritatively.
"I think we will find that the bullets fired from this gun have the same marks as the bullets we dug out of Hans Keitl's throat and head," Friedrich said.
Karl was placed in a dungeon. The tests done on Karl Hemper's gun did indeed show that the bullets fired from it had killed Hans Keitl.
It didn't matter that Karl Hemper was innocent. When Karl Friedrich and Max Brieden confronted Karl Hemper in his cell with the confirmation of their suspicion, Hemper panicked.
He hanged himself that night, which seemed to confirm his assumed guilt.
"There is just one problem," Hennie said, when she heard the news. It was brought to her by General Witmann.
"Yes, I know," the general said. "His co-conspirators. Who? Are they among us? Or are they part of the general staff? Who?"
"I do not know, but I think I shall do more target practice than I have been used to, and I shall get a new lock for my apartment."
"This is not good," the general said, shaking his head and frowning. "Our men are dying at the front like flies. Our supplies are drying up. The war machine is bogged down, and in the middle of this, we have vipers trying to liquidate us. Why?" he asked again.
Hennie, gazing at his troubled face, almost heard the unasked, unthinkable question which the general had not voiced.
Was it Hitler himself who had ordered this purge?
She called Colonel Aberhaus that evening. "I have a request to make, Colonel."
"Yes, Corporal?"
"I think I should like to use Hans Keitl's cottage for a couple of days. I think Laurie Reifer could stand a rest, to recover from her shock."
"Of course! I shall issue an order releasing the key to you tomorrow," the colonel said.
Laurie had, of course, been brought in for questioning, and released after fourteen grueling hours, freed of suspicion of complicity.
It was now Hennie's turn to console Laurie, and Laurie was very grateful for Hennie's thoughtfulness.
That Friday evening, they went to the cabin for the weekend, accompanied, for the sake of security, by Hitler's two men, Karl Friedrich and Max Brieden.
It wasn't just security they provided.
CHAPTER FIVE
With the four Nazis tangled nakedly on the large bed in the main bedroom of the cabin, Hennie remembered the training camp which had fitted her out for her ultimate destiny, the destiny she was acting on now.
Their training had been arduous. Their day started at five in the morning and didn't end until ten at night-or later, if there were special lessons.
They were indoctrinated into the theory of the Master Race, and they all thrilled to it. After years of being downtrodden, after years of struggling for a living during the impoverished years after World War I, to listen to their teachers talk about the glorious resurrection of Germany was exhilarating.
There was nothing they could not do. The world was theirs, the rules of life were theirs to make or break.
None of them had come to camp virgins. They had been in the Hitler Youth Movement too long, and sexual intercourse was encouraged from an early age.
Hennie remembered the lessons they learned in sex, however. Sex was not only something one did because one found it enjoyable. It was a weapon, a force, a method of persuasion. It was anything you wanted to make it.
Hans had been part of the first indoctrinating session. There were four girls and four .Nazis per room. They were fucked royally, learned some of the more sophisticated techniques, and the sex sessions were different from their normal and frequent sexual servicing of the men and women who taught them, since they were structured with a definite message to convey.
Laurie was the only one in the group of four to which Hennie was assigned, who had ever been ass-fucked. Laurie, apparently, tried everything although her preference had always been for women.
The other two girls were Martha and Lotte. Although none of the women really cared for the vicious doctor, only Martha made her contempt for him very obvious. Hans chafed under that contempt that even the arrogant Lotte dared not show him.
But Martha was very different from the other girls in many ways. She was a careless student, she was choosy about who she would fuck, and in her mishievous behavior, she was frequently disruptive of the stern discipline of the training camp.
Martha had been picked by a colonel who had superior rank over Hans, and Hans reluctantly picked Hennie as his partner.
They were to learn the art of ass-fucking.
Hennie was very nervous. Hans was a brutal stud, and she wished Hans hadn't been so attracted to her. She had visions of being ripped apart by his thick, long pole.
"Every kind of sex is allowable," Hans had told the girls, "and you must use it all. Your bodies are to be used. You are women and your value lies in your ability to please men, seduce them for whatever purposes you can, and eventually to have babies-sons for the Fatherland."
While he had been giving this lecture, he had been caressing Hennie's dimpled, firm buns.
Hennie took a deep breath and clenched her firsts, as she felt Hans's rough hands spread her ass cheeks wide apart. For a doctor, he had the most insensitive, brutal hands she had ever encountered.
She felt Hans's prick pressing against her bung hole, and she stiffened. But she knew she should relax and she tried. It was difficult, at best.
Hans's prick thrust inward brutally, spreading her asshole walls apart. She felt the fierce pain of her rectal walls stretching as he lunged inward. Behind her, she heard Hans grunt, as he continued to butt his cock inward.
Hennie winced and gnashed her teeth together. Beside her she could hear Martha groaning. Lotte screamed as her asshole walls were breached for the first time.
Only Laurie was silent, having already had her ass broken in. Hennie was silent on general principles. Part of being a Nazi woman was the process of enduring pain.
Hans gripped her haunches tightly as he continued to lunge inward. She had already felt his powerful prick reaming out her cunt, but now it felt harder, bigger, as it thrust deeper and deeper into her bowels.
Hennie kept taking deep breaths, ordering her body to relax, as Hans continued to bury his prick, inch after inch, into her tight, hot shit chute. He finally embedded the length of his prick in her asshole and she felt his thick, hard shaft throbbing violently against the burning, stinging walls of her anal canal.
"Nice and tight," Hans had grunted. Hennie didn't respond. She felt sweat pearling on her forehead, as she tried to relax.
Her stomach turned a lazy circle in her belly, as Hans started to move in her, pulling his cock with some difficulty out to the tip, and then lunging in again.
Hennie decided that she didn't like this form of sexual intercourse. Although she would do it whenever it was required of her, she was determined to avoid it wherever possible.
Her belly began to be tormented with cramps, as Hans thrust in and out of her unprepared shit chute.
It felt to Hennie as if, when he withdrew his massive cock, that he was pulling out all her internal organs.
Some of her capillaries broke, strained excessively, and a slight moisture coated the walls of her asshole, as Hans continued to ream her out. The small flow of blood lubricated Hans's cock somewhat, and some of the driving pain let up, as Hans pumped in and out of her bung hole.
Her body started to relax a little, as her asshole walls parted before the fleshy onslaught of Hans's spear, and stretched to accommodate his lusty spear more easily.
"Ahh!" Hans growled, as he finally managed to thrust inward in one lunge, burying his prick to the hilt in her fiery asshole.
His balls slapped against her pussy flesh, situated just beneath her asshole, and the rhythmic contact of his hairy balls against her sex flesh, stimulated her pussy, causing her to cream.
She relaxed a little more and lowered her head, as Hans continued to lunge in and out of her asshole, the increasing violence of his thrusts jarring her body. Her breasts jiggled as she was rocked back and forth by the man's lusty, cruel spear, but the pain started to recede more and more.
She could feel her juices pouring from her cunt, could feel them coating her pussy lips which were getting bloated with desire. Her clitoris popped out of its fleshy sheath, and tingled hotly.
And then the burning sensation in her reamed-out asshole turned into a rather pleasurable tingling sensation.
Hans's prick pumped in and out of her asshole with increasing ease, as her bung hole walls stretched wider and wider.
Hans leaned forward on her back, and she felt his hands moving over the flat plane of her belly. He cupped her tits, and then kneaded her nipples which became puckered with sexual excitement.
She gasped with pleasure when Hans pinched them and then pulled on them, elongating her tits to a conical shape for a while.
Once again his hand moved down over her belly, and she felt his finger playing with her soggy wet meat.
"Ohh!" she gasped, as the tip of his index finger found her inflamed clitoris.
"You can do this to yourself, to bring yourself off-if the man doesn't think of it," Hans told her.
Hans's huge cock rubbed against her asshole walls, and they started to tingle more intensely with the strangest erotic pleasure which Hennie had ever felt.
Hans's finger dug more deeply into her bloated pink passion flesh, and then she felt his finger insinuating itself into her honeyed fuck channel.
He twirled his finger around and around, and her cuntal walls closed in around the finger with a growing excitement.
His cock lunged into the burning depths of her asshole over and over again, and the very strangeness, the very obscenity of the sodomizing, started to inflame Hennie more than she had ever been inflamed before.
She started to buck backward, actually seeking to drive Hans's prick deeper and deeper into her shit chute. Her sphincter muscles contracted rhythmically around Hans's prick, as he continued to saw in and out of her asshole.
She no longer had to will herself to relax. She was actually responding wildly to the ass-fucking she was getting.
Hans's hand moved up and down over the swollen, throbbing folds of her inner meat, as he pried into the depths of her after passage with an increasing frenzy.
By now his hairy balls were covered with a thin patina of Hennie's come cream, as they slammed into her nether flesh with an increasing tempo.
She rocked backward, her firm buns slamming against Hans's flat belly with increasing strength as the passion built to a crescendo in her body.
The carnal upheaval was a pleasant surprise to Hennie, and she closed her eyes, surrendering wantonly to the sodomy.
Her cunt cream flowed heavily from her quivering hot fuck hole, as Hans reamed her out wildly. Beside her, Hennie heard Laurie starting to come, her moans deep and prolonged.
She panted heavily herself, as the wild welter of passion surged up in her, took possession of her.
Thoroughly relaxed now, Hans's hard-pounding prick was providing an enormous amount of pleasure, and she started to gasp heavily, as she experienced a double convulsion-one in her asshole and one in her pussy.
Hans's prick seemed to cleave through her belly and come up through her mouth. She opened her mouth to breathe, her passion-constricted throat inhibiting the flow of air, but the very breathlessness of her excitement was an enhancement of the demanding waves of pleasure which had gripped her bowels.
Her cuntal walls quivered with the growing orgasm which rumbled in the depth of her womanhood. But the center of sensational pleasure wasn't confined to her cunt where she was used to it.
Her shit chute was going through its own carnal upheaval.
Her body shuddered violently, as Hans continued to slam into her. Then she felt him pinching her clitoris. It could have been a very rough pinch, Hennie couldn't be sure, and Hans was usually rough.
But her pleasure at this point was so profound that any discomfort was construed as pleasure.
She felt as if her clitoris had swelled to twice its normal size. It seemed to vibrate with lightning-like sensations of ecstasy which added to the insane delight in which she was writhing.
And then her cunt started to contract rhythmically, to convulse. At the same time, her sphincter muscles responded with sympathetic contractions of their own, which seemed to suck the juices right out of Hans's balls.
Kneading her inflamed love button between the thumb and forefinger of his hand, he pummeled her after passage with more frenzy.
Hennie felt his cock swelling in her asshole, and then felt his thick warm cream pouring into her bowels.
The sensation of his gism spewing into her and coating her bung hole walls, caused Hennie to become delirious with the wild ecstasy which she felt.
Hans's gism lubricated his cock even more, and he pistoned it in and out of her after passage with increasing speed, as Hennie writhed in the throes of the most marvelous orgasm she had ever had.
She let out a loud cry as her orgasm peaked.
Her body stiffened. She felt as if she were going to explode with the raging tide of lusty happiness which permeated her, seemed to possess her body.
Her orgasm peaked and then started to fade away. Hennie babbled deliriously as the strange sweet pleasure peaked, and then started to fade away slowly, almost like a large wave which peaks, its foaming crest spreading until the wave crashes in white soap-like bubbles.
She sagged forward as she came down from the sexual high she had attained.
"Ohh!" she gasped.
"You liked it, ehh?" Hans asked.
"Yes." , Hennie's thoughts of training camp were interrupted by an orgasm. She was being speared by Karl Friedrich in her asshole, quite expertly but without Hans's brutality. Hans had deserved to die the way he did.
At the moment, Hennie's mind seemed slightly out of control. She experienced the reality she was living through in a surrealistic, almost dream-like manner, while her thoughts of the past acquired an immediacy which v demanded her attention.
At the moment it didn't matter. Trained as she was, she knew she would respond as Karl would like. Beside her on the bed, Laurie was sucking off Max.
And soon, she knew, she and Laurie would perform sexually for the pleasure of the two Nazis.
It was all the same to Hennie.
Her orgasm died away, and her body sagged on the bed. Max had just come in Laurie's mouth. She licked his cock clean and then smiled at Hennie, still impaled on Karl's semi-hard prick.
"This is more like old times," Laurie said.
"What old times?" Max wanted to know.
"Training camp! We really learned a lot, didn't we?" Laurie exclaimed.
"Yes," Hennie said, her voice distant as she walled in post-orgasmic bliss.
"Remember Dominique?" Laurie asked.
Hennie raised her head and frowned.
"Should I?"
"She was that aristocratic girl who always had crossed legs, and if she was forced to go to bed, she always just lay there. She had fancy ideas about herself."
Hennie gasped.
"Yes! How could I have forgotten her! If it weren't for her, poor Martha...."
"Kill who?" Karl asked, fixing his gaze keenly on Laurie.
"I had forgotten," Hennie said, closing her eyes and wishing that people wouldn't be so foolish. Laurie knew better. She had been trained better.
"Oh, this was a jealous girl who got another girl in our training camp killed," Laurie said. She had squirmed away from Max, and was lying beside Hennie, who was resting with her cheek on the pillow.
Laurie tongued her lips, and then caressed her breasts, as she lay, buns-up, impaled on Karl's prick.
Karl laughed, and pulled out of Hennie's asshole, his cock making an obscene plopping sound.
With her eyes still closed, thinking, but physically receptive, Hennie threw her arms around Laurie's neck, and surrendered to Laurie's hungry kiss. Laurie never had to be taught lesbian sexuality. She was a mistress of it, and had been able to teach the woman commander a few tricks!
But Hennie was shocked, too. She remembered Dominique, and something nagged her in the back of her mind, scratched at her brain with a sharp fingernail.
Dominique Horstel, who was supposed to be descended from the emperors of Germany, impoverished, but still arrogant, and very, very beautiful.
Dominique was no virgin, but she was sexually discriminating. God only knew what had made her embrace the cause of the Third Reich with such fervor-unless it was to repair her fortunes, as shabby as the fortunes of others in Germany after the first World War.
Like Martha, her contempt was blatant. Like Martha, she avoided Hans like the plague. Martha and she had become intimate friends.
Hennie smiled softly, remembering how desperately the proud Lotte had tried to worm her way into their good graces, and how miserably she failed.
The smile was construed by the three on the bed as sexual abandonment, and the two men gripped their cocks, panting hard, as Hennie writhed in Laurie's embrace.
Of course Martha and Dominique, having pretensions to nobility, scorned and abused Lotte, when they weren't making her run errands on the false premise that her slavery to them would gain her their favor. Time and again, she was forced to service them sexually, while they did not return the favor.
Lotte was a commoner, for all her pretensions, and Lotte consorted willingly with other commoners. Hennie had thought it was funny then. They had all been thoroughly examined, their family backgrounds checked. They were all perfect Aryans. Their blood wasn't tainted, and they were all destined to be kings and queens of the world.
But Martha and Dominique believed that among the kings and queens of the world, they were the best and the purest.
Martha died because of her friendship with Dominique. Dominique went after only the most powerful men. She courted favor with the men and women of Hitler's elite and feared SS troop, and she did manage to garner some grudging acceptance.
But then, one day, when they had had an afternoon off, Dominique wanted Martha to go with her for some love play together, and Martha confessed to Dominique that she was having an affair-and of all things, with a young Jewish boy whom she had discovered in hiding in the forest, which surrounded the training camp on three sides.
Dominique had been offended by Martha's refusal, and absolutely shocked at Martha's sexual liaison with a defective. Dominique had every prejudice of her age and place, and she had taken the story to Commandant Berndt Wein, the SS man in charge of the training camp.
Franz was second-in-command, and Commandant Wein had gone to him immediately to dispose of the matter, which was how Hennie knew about it in such detail. She was, at that time, Franz's constant companion, and very capable assistant.
She witnessed most of the grueling torture sessions, acquired experience in interrogation that was unusual for a girl so young. And she was trusted because of her good judgment.
Franz set Dominique the task of finding out when Martha would next meet her lover. Two evenings later, Dominique appeared, breathless, in Franz's office to say that she had seen Martha heading west toward the forest just a moment before.
Franz set out with two dogs, and two aides, and when they returned, they had not only Martha in tow, but the Jewish boy, and four of his family.
The rest had been killed.
The commandant himself set to work interrogating the Jewish boy and his family, while Franz, assisted by Hans Keitl and another medical trainee, went to work on Martha.
Hennie was present, and she watched Hans do most of the work. Franz had always had a soft streak in him, which sometimes annoyed Hennie. But Hans's arrant cruelty on this occasion, was far more distressing.
What made it even more horrendous was that Martha had been through training and torture indoctrination, and she knew what to expect.
It took three Nazi soldiers to subdue her when she was dragged into the stone chamber.
Hennie found herself trembling as she watched Hans rip the girl's clothing from her body and then spit in her face.
"Dirty little traitor!" he snarled. "You dare defile your body with a defective. Sow!"
He kicked her brutally in her side with his booted foot, and Hennie winced when she heard the dull crack of Martha's ribs.
Hans turned to Franz, who nodded, giving him the right to do what he pleased.
"Hang her up," he ordered the Nazi assistants. Again it took the three of them to suspend her from the chains hung from the ceiling. The iron manacles were finally secured.
Martha screamed and kicked, her body jiggling lewdly in the chains. Hans laughed cruelly at her agonized antics.
"Now, Martha, this is no way for a woman of the Third Reich to behave! I suspect that your blood must be tainted," Hans said, accusingly.
Martha was wracked with long, drawn-out sobs. Hennie leaned slightly forward in her chair.
She felt that wanton heat in her pussy which always came when she watched or participated in torture sessions, that strange sexual involvement which she couldn't explain.
She started when she felt Franz's hand covering hers, and realized that she had put her hand on his thigh.
When she looked at him, her eyes glowing with lust, he responded with a similar look. Could it be possible that he, too, was aroused?
Hennie looked again at Hans. Hans's crotch was bulging with an obvious hard-on, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Next to Dominique, Martha's scathing contempt of him had rankled, and now he was getting even.
Hans removed his thick, black leather belt from its loops.
"Grease the sow's ass," he said. While two of the Nazi assistants held Martha's flailing legs, the third rubbed her ass cheeks and haunches with vaseline.
The grease would intensify the pain of the whipping. When he had finished coating her ass cheeks, he thrust his middle finger into the jar, and then crudely rammed the finger up Martha's asshole.
The girl gasped, her body stiffening for a moment. Hennie got even more aroused as she watched the blush of shame suffusing Martha's face.
The two guards released her legs, and the chains which were suspended from the ceiling rattled, as Martha struggled wildly. By now her wrists were bleeding and raw from the abrasion of the iron manacles.
She whimpered with fear, and clenched her fists in a vain attempt to diminish the pain which wracked her wrists.
Martha, like Dominique, was not a good student. She hadn't learned how to bear pain from inflicting it. Hennie knew that one didn't fight pain, one floated with it in order to survive, and that was an essential lesson in case one was captured.
Hans raised the leather belt, and slapped it expertly and brutally on Martha's bare ass cheek.
Martha screamed as she felt the brutal pain shoot through her. A red welt formed on her soft bun and Hennie's ass muscles clenched.
Part of their training had been to experience some of the pain, and they had once been lined up in the main interrogation room, bare-assed, their bottoms greased, and they had each been given ten lashes with a thick leather belt.
Hennie knew that the pain vibrated, went on and on and on like a plucked E string of a violin, and with the same searing intensity.
It had also aroused her. She had been a rutting mindless animal in Franz's arms that particular night. She felt her juices flowing now. Her hands were sweating. She watched Martha with a growing intensity of fascination, her panties a soggy mass of pussy cream.
Hans laid the belt on until Martha's rump was incredibly red and swollen. The sweat stood out on his brow, and he only desisted when his arm was too tired to deliver the blows with any effectiveness.
He handed the belt to one of the assistants. One by one, the three assistants whipped her until their strength was expended.
Martha fainted twice and was revived. By the time the third assistant had finished, there was blood running from Martha's raw buttocks. She couldn't have had one inch left of whole skin on her once beautiful ass cheeks, and there were huge white blisters punctuating the ugly raw redness of her buns.
Then Hans approached again, standing in front of the quivering, now limp girl. His blue eyes sparkled lewdly, vindictively. In his right hand he held a burning brand. In his left, the massive rod of his manhood throbbed.
He laughed cynically.
"Lo, how the mighty have fallen," he intoned. "Take your pick, you virtuous bitch. This," he said, waving the burning brand, "or this," he continued, hefting his powerful, pulsating shaft of meat with his hand.
Martha whimpered and her blush of shame deepened. The dungeon in which they all stood rang with the sardonic laughter of the Nazi assistants, watching her degradation, her shame.
She had done the unspeakable. She had coupled with a defective, a Jew!
The Nazi medical officer whom she had so often and so publicly disdained, pointed the burning brand at her golden-furred love mound. The smell of singeing hair reached Hennie's nostrils, and then she smelled that subtle aroma of fear.
Martha quivered, and nodded her head toward Hans's prick.
"That," she gasped.
"What?" Hans mocked. Martha stiffened again, as she heard the sizzling of her maidenhairs which had come in contact with the burning brand. Then she felt the heat wafting over her delicate sex flesh.
"Your-your cock!" she shrieked, broken, and defeated, resigned to her fate.
With a raucous laugh, the assembled group of torturers applauded her decision.
Hans dropped the burning brand with a great cry of lust, and plunged his throbbing rod into the tiny, tortured hole of his victim.
Martha moaned as she felt his burning, fleshy brand searing her sex flesh. Already aroused by the beating, in spite of the pain, the fires of her passion were ignited.
Hennie knew this as surely as she sat watching Hans plow in and out of Martha's pussy, thrusting upward brutally, burying his spear to the hilt in her quailing womanhood.
He gripped her raw and bleeding buttocks, and cruelly kneaded the flesh, as he thrust into her over and over again, cleaving through her inner sex flesh with loud grunts of lust.
And as Hennie watched, she quivered with a mini-orgasm. She could almost feel Hans's prick plowing through her own pussy.
She tightened the grip of her hand on Franz's thigh, and felt his muscles tense. She looked sideways at him, and saw a massive bulge in his trousers, as he watched Martha being fucked brutally.
Hans's face became red, and his expression became distorted with unbridled lust, as he lunged in and out of Martha's cunt.
"Tell me you like it, bitch!" he snarled, his voice guttural with raging passion.
"I like it!" Martha gasped, barely able to get the words out.
"Tell me how wonderful I am!" Hans barked.
Martha sobbed violently, her body jarred rhythmically by the powerful rutting of Hans.
"You're wonderful!" she wailed in a tone of monumental despair. The pleasure, the agony seemed to bloat her body.
Hennie, watching, felt pre-orgasmic tension rushing through her as Hans started to come in her pussy.
His strokes "became incredibly violent as he seared her sex flesh and emptied his balls into her quivering cunt. Martha's head snapped back and a loud scream issued from her mouth, as Hans shot his wad into her, and then pulled out of her, his prick gleaming with her juices and his.
"Wasn't it good?" Hans bellowed, his face now distorted with pure rage. "Yes," Martha gasped.
Hans picked up a rife leaning against the wall with a bayonet affixed to it.
"So die!" the cruel Nazi doctor snarled.
Martha writhed and squealed as Hans started to slowly push the vicious-looking sharp blade into the womanhood he had just reamed out.
Hennie held her breath, almost feeling the blood surge through her body, as the steel disappeared, inch by inch into Martha's hole. Great spurts of blood sprayed out, staining Hans's uniform, his hands.
Only a moment before, he had speared her on his fleshy lance. Now her world was dissolving in a whirling agony and the gushing of her blood from her pierced and mutilated sex.
Hans pushed the entire length of the sword into Martha's pussy, and then twisted. Martha's body stiffened, quivering violently, and then sagged. She was dead.
Hennie left with Franz. They writhed in their own orgiastic agonies for the. rest of that night, and well into the next day. Hennie had never remembered being so insatiable, nor had she ever remembered Franz being so wild.
But Laurie and the other girls were filled with blood-lust. Only Hennie's cautioning voice restrained them from attacking Dominique and pulling her to pieces.
At Hennie's suggestion, Franz had Dominique pulled out of the regular training corps. She was transferred to the more elite and more feared SS.
Hennie never saw her again-until the morning after she had murdered Franz. That was the woman she had seen with Colonel Aberhaus.
Laurie's chance remark had made her path clear again.
CHAPTER SIX
The weekend was wild and at the same time relaxing for both women.
They arrived at headquarters on Monday rested and ready for work. For Hennie, there was a double load, although her second chore, more important than the obvious work she did, was also more subtle.
"Good morning. I hope you had a restful weekend," Colonel Aberhaus said when Hennie returned the key to him.
"It was lovely. Thank you. Any developments?"
"None, really," the colonel replied. "Your bodyguards were satisfactory?"
Hennie laughed.
"Very. Oh!" she exclaimed. "By the way, I meant to compliment you on that perfectly lovely creature I saw you with at the officers" club one morning-the morning after Franz died, I believe."
It was the colonel's turn to laugh.
"Don't bother. She was fun, but she's gone on to bigger and better things," he replied.
"What is bigger and better than you?" Hennie quipped with a sly smile.
"A general-Otto Witmann."
"But colonel, he doesn't have as much power as you."
"Granted, but he has a bigger title."
"Is she-is she a lady of the evening?"
"She's a social-climbing SS slut. Her name is Mercedes Klein."
"Mercedes Klein. Sounds fancy. How did you meet her?"
"Carla Oberhoff's party, two weeks ago."
Hennie frowned.
"I don't remember her!"
"She had black hair then," the colonel said, laughing. "Remember? I was talking with her by the fireplace."
Hennie thought for a moment and then nodded.
But it was disquieting to know that Dominique was around and associating with the male members of the high command.
Why had she changed her name? What was she up to? Carla Oberhoff's association with the SS might account for her acquaintance with Dominique.
During the course of the week, Hennie did some research, and came up with some interesting answers.
Dominique Horstel had been implicated in a plot to kill several of Hitler's most trusted generals, members of the SS, right after the start of the blitzkrieg.
The papers on Mercedes Klein were more innocuous, and far more recent in origin. Apparently Dominique was still engaged in the attempt to enhance her own fortunes at the expense of others' lives.
Laurie may have been indiscreet in mentioning the fact that Dominique did not deserve to live, but Hennie couldn't deny the basic rightness of her statement.
The reports that week were not good. The soldiers were dying in droves on the eastern front and they were being pushed back on the western front.
There had been a time when Hennie would have loved to go to the front, but now she was glad to be in Berlin, impoverished and dark as it was. Here was safety and life. Here was the center of the universe.
She couldn't understand why Hitler had gone to his bunker-why he had over the past year, spent an increasing amount of time there.
She had a vague sense of life and power slipping through her fingers, and she worked with increasing vigor. There was no time to be lost.
She planned to make her next move that weekend.
In the meantime, Karl and Max continued their investigation into the death of Hans, looking for conspirators.
Karl called her into the office he and Max had been given at central headquarters one afternoon.
"Is this the woman Laurie was talking about?" he asked pushing some papers forward.
Hennie resisted the urge to smile. She had so placed those papers that they couldn't be missed by someone foraging for information.
She picked up the file on Dominique Horstel.
"Why, yes," she said, handing it back. And then, as if in after-thought, she picked the file up again, frowning at the picture in the right hand corner.
"Strange! What is it about this woman?"
"You recognize her, perhaps?"
"Oh, I knew her in camp. Laurie and I shared the same barracks until she was transferred to SS," Hennie said. "But there's something else-I don't know what it is."
"Perhaps you would like to keep the file for a day or so to think about it?" Karl asked.
"Yes, if I may."
"Laurie Reifer, perhaps, was not wrong in wanting to kill her. A bad specimen, that."
"I think that was what Laurie meant," Hennie said, coming to her friend's defense. What she did to that young girl, she would have done to anyone to get ahead. "I haven't seen her for four years-I think."
Hennie took the file, and left it on her desk for a day. The following morning, she walked to Colonel Aberhaus' office.
"Colonel, the woman I complimented you on the other day?"
"Mercedes Klein?"
"Let me show you something," Hennie said, staring straight into the colonel's eyes. She covered the head sheet of Dominique's file with a piece of paper, leaving exposed only the photograph.
"Mercedes!" the colonel said. He looked at Hennie with a strange expression on his face.
Hennie removed the sheet of paper. The colonel's eyes widened.
"Where did you get this?"
"From Karl Friedrichs. We went to training camp together, this woman and I."
The colonel took the file from Hennie's hand and stormed out of his office. As surely as she was still alive, Hennie knew that he would take it back to Karl. If there were one thing the colonel loathed and detested more than anything it was being duped-and being duped by a woman must surely have enraged him incredibly.
But she had more work to do. She called General Otto Witmann at his apartment early that evening, requesting time to see him, alone and in secret.
The general agreed readily and suggested his apartment.
"Do you have anyone with you?" she asked.
"Of course!" Otto laughed. "But that can be disposed of in short order."
"Then do take care of it, and I shall be along in about half an hour," Hennie said.
The general lived in an appropriated apartment which had once belonged to a banker who had been trasnported to Buchenwald. It was elegant in an old-fashioned way.
The general himself answered the door, and ushered Hennie into a large living room. "May I offer you a drink?"
"Why, thank you. Brandy," Hennie said. They sat side by side on the couch, sipping the liquor, while Hennie quietly told her tale.
"How did you know about her?" the general asked, getting up to pace the floor, disturbed.
"I happened to compliment Colonel Aberhaus on his good taste, and he mentioned that she had gone to you. And then, of course, Karl, and that file ... , I think you may be in great danger."
"Hmmm!
Hennie was fascinated. There was something about her deadly mission which was like an exciting chess game after the opening moves have been made-an unconventional chess game in which anything could happen.
"Bah!" Otto said, sitting down heavily. The man was built like a bull. He kept his head shaved. It was well-shaped, his brow ponderous and intelligent in a blunt kind of way, and his black eyebrows were thick and well-arched.
Beneath his eyebrows light brown eyes sparkled.
"She was a, err, a rather pleasant convenience," Otto said.
"Where is she now?" Hennie asked, her eyes raking the colonel's magnificent body.
"I sent her to the club and told her to wait for me. Of course, now, I don't know what to do. Hitler's men are on the case, but I do not care to associate with her. Do you suppose she was one of Karl's co-conspirators?"
"I don't know," Hennie said honestly. "I am sure Karl and Max are examining the matter."
Otto was now staring at her lustfully, and Hennie smiled, putting her glass down.
"Perhaps I would be a pleasant convenience for a Utile while?" she asked.
Otto's smile turned into a lewd grin, which revealed strong, straight, white teeth.
"Yes, you would."
"At your service, General."
"You are most amiable," the general smiled, taking her into his arms.
"I have been trained well, General," Hennie murmured.
"True. By men I trained myself!"
This Hennie knew as she pressed her lips against the general's lips. This part of the game was as exciting as the rest of it, and Hennie was nothing if not well-trained sexually.
Sexuality, they had been taught, was a weapon, a method of disarming a dangerous enemy. The move she was making now would be one of her more sophisticated ones, and Hennie became more aroused than ever, thinking about it.
Otto's tongue slithered into her mouth, and Hennie sucked on it, feeling her juices flow. Then he broke the kiss.
With several brusque gestures, he removed his uniform, as Hennie did the same. The general's cock was built the way his body was, thick and powerful-looking. It throbbed, fully erect, at right angles to his body.
His pubic hair was thick and as black as his eyebrows.
Hennie lay down on the couch, throwing her arms over her head, which raised her fabulous jugs, making them more prominent. She bent her knees, and spread her legs wide.
Her pink inner meat, already glistening with her sex juices, flowered outward luridly.
The general looked at her for a moment, reached down for his glass, and after raising it to her, drained it.
Hennie moaned, as a hot gush of pussy fluid rushed from her quvering quim.
She held her arms out, and the general stepped around the coffee table and lay down beside her, pulling her hard against his magnificent, hairless body.
She felt his lips covering hers, and her heart beat like a trip-hammer against her rib cage, as his tongue explored her mouth.
His hands, at the same time, explored the fabulous resilient flesh of her breasts. She felt his fingers kneading her nipples until they stiffened and tingled hotly with lusty excitement.
She was panting heavily with the passion which surged through her. She reached down and greedily grasped the general's very fat prick. A drop of pre-come had formed at the tip of his cock, and she pressed her fingertip against it, smearing it around on the bulbous, mushroom-shaped head of his staff.
He crouched between her legs, and pressed his thick hot prick against her drooling hole, and then thrust.
"Ohh!" Hennie gasped, feeling her pussy walls give way before the powerful onslaught of the general's prick.
He slithered into her well-greased hole, until he was buried balls-deep in her cunt and then braced himself in a push-up position. He started to move his prick in her, pulling it out to the tip, and then pushing it inward.
She arched her hips up as he thrust inward and then ground her swollen pink pussy meat against his thickly-haired loins.
She looked down over the ripe plane of her body, and watched his powerful spear slide out, gleaming with her juices, and then heightened her own pleasure by watching it disappear into the teeming depths of her meadow of lust.
Her passion mounted until her belly was a seething cauldron of lusty delight. As the general fucked her, she caressed her own passion-swollen tits, pulling on the nipples, to excite the general even more.
He grunted, and his virtually hairless body gleamed with a thin patina of sex sweat, as he watched her undulating beneath him, pinned to his powerful prick.
Hennie quivered as she surrendered to the hot wild pleasure of the general's prick, pumping in and out of her pussy. His throbbing shaft massaged the itching walls of her tunnel of lust, increasing her pleasure with each pumping motion.
His hairy balls slapped against her arching, quivering ass cheeks, as she bucked upward, seeking to suck in more and more of the general's fabulous cock.
He started to lunge into her more and more furiously as his passion mounted, and the more excited he became, the more excited Hennie became.
She gasped as she felt powerful waves of ecstasy coursing through her, driving her crazy with desire.
She bucked her hips up against the general's hairy loins faster and harder, as her hunger grew. The tingling in her pussy spread outward, until her whole body craved the release of orgasm.
Her juices flowed heavily from her well-stuffed snatch, and the general's hairy loins became wet and matted with the thick honey of her hunger.
She ground her bloated, throbbing cunt meat against his loins, as he lunged into her hungrily again and again.
She began to feel light-headed, and she whimpered, her head tossing from side to side on the couch, as she felt the wild welter of passion rise up in her, seethe through her entrails.
The general's cock wreaked a sweet devastation in her hot little cunt, and she felt her pussy walls rippling around the general's hot, hard meat as he pumped in and out of her furiously.
Hennie felt her rational control of her body fading. As if it were a mindless, rutting animal with a life of its own apart from her brain, her body quivered and responded to the general's hard-pistoning prick wildly.
Her hips slammed upward over and over again. Goose flesh formed on her smooth white skin, and a thin patina of sex sweat was augmented by the sweat pouring from the general's body.
She shuddered violently as the hot waves surged over her, like a tempestuous sea.
The general started to pant with his growing passion, his breath harsh and sibillant as it issued from his passion-constricted throat.
His prick thrust inward more and more deeply, his strokes becoming frenzied as the hot passion built in his loins.
The general's cock made wet sucking noises as he plunged into her creaming cunt furiously.
Hennie felt her pussy walls contracting around his massive shaft of flesh. Through lust-blurred eyes, she watched the magnificent muscles of the general cording with his lusty labors as he fucked her.
Her clitoris became inflamed and elongated, and it sent searing waves of pleasure coursing through her, adding to the growing heat which had driven her crazy.
Delirious with the growing ecstasy, she felt the spasms in her pussy intensify. She abandoned herself to the quivering hot passion which seemed to melt her flesh, and turned her mind into a soggy mass of carnal sensations.
Her orgasm ripped through her womanhood, and then spread outward, causing her whole body to convulse wildly.
She felt her honey flowing heavily from her pussy, coating her humping ass cheeks as she rose upward, sucking on the general's cock.
Her body writhed insanely under his hard-humping torso as she felt his cock swell in her pussy, felt the heat increase.
At the height of her orgasm, she felt the general's come slit spewing its pellets of gism into her seething snatch. His juices mixed with her come cream, and trickled down her convulsing cunt, as he emptied his balls into her.
Her ecstatic spasms seemed to go on for a long time before they faded away softly, leaving her quivering, and weak. Her sweat, as her body subsided, seemed to grow more copious, and her face became slightly pale.
As he shot the last of his wad into her, the general's body collapsed heavily on top of Hennie's, his powerful chest flattening out her boobs. Her nipples tingled, and she caressed his massive, muscular back, cupping his ass cheeks.
He stiffened, and pulled out of her, sitting up. His sweat was still pouring from him.
"That-that was quite, quite-General, I'm quite done in," Hennie gasped, lying weakly on the couch.
"I was feeling the-the same-by God, I think I'm ill!" the general gasped. His breathing was still harsh. He lay with his head back against the couch, and then his body convulsed. The paleness of his face was supplanted by an ugly red flush.
Hennie threw one arm across her eyes, and moaned. Then she doubled up.
She sat up quickly, and raced for the bathroom, where she was sick to her stomach. When she came back, the general was retching.
He reached for Hennie's barely-touched glass of brandy, and sipped some.
"I-I don't understand it," he said, swirling the golden liquor around and bringing it to his lips.
"General! Don't drink that!" Hennie gasped, dashing the glass out of his hands.
The general had had more than enough poison. Hennie had been sure of that.
"What?" he gasped.
"General, I think we've been poisoned!"
That knowledge was almost like a coup-de-grace. The general clutched his sides, and heaved off the couch, rolling naked on the floor in spasms.
Hennie collapsed on the couch, feeling weak. She had just barely sipped the brandy, knowing she would get sick, but the general had drunk deeply, not only finishing his glass, but making inroads in hers.
At this moment, there was a key heard in the lock.
Groaning loudly, General Otto Witmann staggered to his feet, as the SS agent named Dominique walked, chattering, into the living room.
"Otto! Otto, I'm waiting for you, and Fritz is getting ... "
With a loud roar of rage, the general lunged at Dominique.
She screamed but in his final throes, Dominique was no match for the general's strength.
He clamped his powerful hands around her throat, and, standing stiffly on slightly spread, trembling legs, he pushed her to her knees.
Dominique's hands gripped at the thick wrists of the general, as her eyes started to pop out of her head, wide, and rapidly getting bloodshot. Then her tongue started to protrude from her mouth, getting thick as the general's grip around her throat tightened.
Horrible strangling sounds came from her throat, as the general started to sag, holding on to his life for this one last act of vengeance.
Hennie lay on the couch, naked and moaning, one arm thrown across her eyes, becoming more and more aroused as the naked, powerful general murdered the treacherous Dominique. Even in her illness, Hennie could find some reason to smile, and the last thing Dominique saw, as her face turned a shade of purple close to black, was Hennie's sly smile.
The general's body fell forward, covering Dominique's.
Hennie watched carefully as he convulsed, fearful that he wouldn't finish his ghoulish mission. But his hands had stiffened with approaching death, and Dominique was a doomed woman.
She flopped around under his body like a fish out of water, as the last of her own life was choked out of her.
The general made a strange rattling sound in his throat. His body seemed to stiffen. Then it quivered violently. Still the grip he held around the neck of the perfidious Dominique tightened in his final spasms.
Hennie wasn't quite sure, as waves of faintness flowed over her, just when the general died.
And if she became unconscious it didn't matter, either. It was all part of her carefully-devised and deadly game of chess, a game played with live pieces.
She closed her eyes and surrendered to the faintness, not bothering to cover herself.
And then she remembered something she hadn't done.
She staggered to her feet, and fished in the pocket of her jacket, removing a small packet of powder.
This she poured into the brandy decanter from which the general had poured their drinks.
She swirled it around to dissolve it, almost dropping it as the weakness and mild spasms took hold of her.
She staggered back to the couch and lay there, not regretting the price she was paying. She had learned well at camp.
Nothing was too good for the Third Reich. The Fatherland was wounded, and needed help, and it was Hennie's sacred mission to provide that help.
Four hours later, she was awakened from her stupor, and she looked up into the grave eyes of Max Brieden. Behind him, holding the broken brandy snifter, which still contained some of the liquor in its bowl, was Karl Friedrichs.
The room was alive with SS men. Also in the room was Colonel Aberhaus.
"What happened?" she gasped, rolling on her side to retch.
"The ambulance will be here shortly. You have been poisoned."
"No!" gasped Hennie.
Max sat her up, and put a robe around her shoulders. Hennie's eyes veered to where General Witmann and Dominique Horstel were locked in death.
"How did she get here?" she asked. "What happened?"
"Do you remember getting sick?"
"Yes, I think so," Hennie said. She didn't need to act at all, which didn't soften her vigilance. She was alone in a big, dangerous world, and all these people were potential enemies.
Hennie was taken to the hospital. It took her two days to get over the illness, and then she was back at her post.
Of course Dominique Horstel, alias Mercedes Klein was immediately implicated as a co-conspirator of the foolish, cowardly Karl Hemper.
Hennie's story was simple. She had merely warned the general about Dominique. The suspicious, over-active imaginations of the investigating SS men supplied the rest of the story.
Dominique had left the apartment to establish an alibi, meaning to do away with the general. Unfortunately, Hennie had stumbled in on the plot. Fortunately, she had had only one sip of brandy from the deadly decanter on the sideboard.
Karl and Max were now working overtime, and the staff at general headquarters were in an uproar. In the middle of a failing offensive on all fronts, it was now common knowledge that an insidious enemy in their midst was plotting to pick them all off.
And Hennie reveled in their paranoia. It gave her all the more ammunition to work with, and her work was far from done.
But with each day, it became increasingly dangerous. Hennie was used to danger.
She had been trained for it.
"Oh, my dear," Laurie had said to her on her first day at headquarters after her illness. "Oh, my poor dear."
Her warm hands covered Hennie's, bringing back another train of thought. Strange, she thought, the more involved she became in her dangerous work, the more vivid her memories.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Colonel Otto Witmann, soon to be appointed a general and sent to the front had set up the training camp to closely approximate all the conditions of war and its duties as possible.
"It was a large, sprawling camp, surrounded by electrified barbed wire.
In the center were the administration buildings, and the barracks. There was also a huge brick building, without windows, which was used to train the girls, and young men, in interrogation techniques.-On the outskirts of the camp, but within the barbed wire were the detention barracks. In these barracks were placed those defectives assigned to carry out the chores necessary to keep the training camp self-sufficient.
The extermination camps were a vital part of Hitler's plan for the renewed Germany, and many of the girls and boys would be sent to them to administer them. Therefore it was necessary to train them in the management of prisoners, which, in effect, meant that they had to be driven to the limit of their meager strength to till the fields for food, chop wood, and clean up their living quarters and other such messes as they made.
There was also a small but very efficient oven for the burning of the dead bodies of prisoners. This method of disposing of defective flesh had begun at Auschwitz and was highly recommended.
Hennie, and her companions lived constantly with the smell of death, the rotting bodies, the burning flesh.
In their interrogation training, they lived and became inured to the smell of fear and blood. They were being trained to be perfect automatons, privileged servants of the Master Race.
The training was arduous and the sheep were quickly separated from the goats, the leaders from the followers.
Among the women, they were either taken under some SS officer's wing, or some Nazi's patronage, as Hennie, or they so plainly evinced leadership quality that they received special instruction, more intense instruction, than the rest of those whom they would eventually command.
And they were not gently led into their duties. They were immersed in them immediately and cruelly.
At five o'clock, the morning after they had arrived at the camp, they were awakened, and they went through a solid hour of grueling calisthenics, the girls right along with the boys. Then they had fifteen minutes to shower and dress for breakfast, and they had twenty minutes to eat that meal.
After that, they were divided into smaller groups for teaching techniques.
On her first day, Hennie, the arrogant Lotte, and Laurie were the only three girls in a contingent that also consisted of nine boys, one of whom was Hans. It was on this morning that Hennie first saw Franz and fell in love with him, although she never would have used that phrase herself.
Their group was marched to a long shed which stood by the railroad siding. Franz stood on a raised platform to one side of the shed. The twelve people were lined up behind him.
He stood in the misty morning light, tall and straight, and elegant-looking. He was also dispassionate, which to Hennie was always a mark of strength. It wasn't until long after their relationship had developed that she saw the soft streak in him that displeased her and made her distrust him.
Even in the Hitler Youth Movement, she had been acculturated to view any emotion as a sign of weakness, especially in the face of necessary and unpleasant labor.
"You are about to witness," Franz began, his eyes on the distance where dark smoke indicated an approaching train, "the system set up in our work camp in Auschwitz. It is revolutionary, and it will speed our purification of our Master Race. It is humane, and efficient, and inexpensive. We trust, once we have installed this system in all our camps that our work will be shortened and the task completed within five years-at the most ten.
"There is a train-load of defectives being delivered here today," Franz said, turning around to view the twelve young people, and the military trainees, his keen blue eyes taking in each and every one of his charges. Hennie felt her pussy juices flowing as she looked into his blue eyes, inflinchingly.
"There are three doors in the back of this shed, as you will notice. The door to the right leads to the oven. That door is for those who are dying, or so weak that they will die shortly. We cannot afford to support the idle or the weak, particularly if they are of impure blood. They will be put immediately out of their misery.
"The middle door leads to the camp proper. Those who are deemed fit for work will be sent through that door and assigned quarters.
"The door on your left will be used only occasionally. That is for those defectives and internees who are especially pleasing sexually, and they will be assigned to special quarters for the use of those of us who want them or need them.
"It is up to each and every one of you to train your powers of observation. Anyone can learn to spot those who are postentially useful from those who are not, and that is why you are here today.
"In front of each one of these doors is an officer. Behind each one of those doors are other officers. The paths leading to the various destinations are lined to keep everything moving swiftly.
"The three officers in front of me will propel any unwilling internee in the direction to which he is supposed to go. As you can see, it is clean, quick and efficient, and it uses a minimum of military personnel. Many of you who are para-military will be called upon for this assignment so pay close attention.
"Are there any questions?"
The cloud of smoke was getting larger, and now the cab of the train could been seen, looming larger as it approached.
It was Hennie who raised her hand.
"Yes, fraulein?"
"I thought that members of the Master Race, the purer Aryans, were not supposed to couple with defectives."
"Only in conditions resembling equality, only indiscriminately. The Third Reich is not a monster. There will always be defectives among us, but they are our slaves, and in this condition, they will learn to serve us in any capacity whatsoever. Does that answer your question?"
"Yes, thank you."
For a moment longer, Hennie basked in Franz's observing gaze. The group stirred as the train pulled in.
One of the officers in front of Franz's platform ran to the first cattle car. There were eight cars in all. Other officers appeared at the doors to the other cattle cars.
"Open the first car!" Franz ordered, and the officer slid the door open.
Within seconds, the first, horrible apparitions staggered or fell from the overcrowded car. And within seconds more an overpowering stench of sickness, defectation, urine, and disease wafted over the group.
One of the military trainees, and Lotte bent over and retched.
Hennie swallowed hard, not wanting to disgrace herself. She was going to be the best officer she knew how to be, and that meant bearing unflinchingly each and every blow that came her way.
The people were filthy. They had been in the cars without air, light, or food, for three days. They had lived with their dead and dying, as closely packed as sardines. Many of them had been trampled to death when they fell or fainted.
Franz started to intone the fatal formula: "Right, right, right, center, right, center, center, center," as the soldiers whipped the weakened, filthy, and exhausted mass of humanity into a line which passed before Franz.
Hennie watched as most of the first car went to the right.
And then he gave a different order as the second car was emptied. In the midst of that straggling crew were four very hale men who were in much better condition, relatively speaking, than their fellow passengers.
"Hold!" Franz said when they appeared. They were immediately arrested by Nazi officers, and held to one side.
Hans raised his hand.
"Yes?"
"Why are you detaining those four?" Hans wanted to know.
"They will empty the cars of the dead which will immediately be taken to the oven to be burned, after they have been divested of their clothing, shaved, and the gold in their teeth removed," Franz explained.
Three more hale men were found in the rest of the cars. When the cars were empty a sickish-sweet odor filled the air. Hennie looked toward the immaculate-looking brick building with the huge chimney.
Already the ovens had been fired, and people were being burned. A prisoner drove up with a huge wooden wagon, and the seven men who had been detained were set to work at gunpoint to clean out the cars and pile the bodies on the siding.
Other prisoners, trained for the work, shaved off the thick hair of the women, stripped the corpses, while a prisoner carefully extracted the gold-filled teeth of the dead corpses, breaking their jaws if they were already in a state of rigor mortis.
In three hours, it was all over, and a prisoner was hosing down the platform as the train " chugged away, to return to its destination.
No one had been found in the tragic train . for the left-hand door, and this seemed to be a source of displeasure among the officers.
One of them, passing by the group of twelve, who still stood, obedient, and waiting for their next order, eyed Lotte, Hennie, and Laurie.
"Well, at least we have our little trainees, ehh?" he grinned, tipping his cap at the girls.
Lotte made a sound of disgust. Hennie and Laurie knew better, and merely smiled.
That was the first time Hennie discovered that blood and death aroused her. When the awful charade of humanity was over, she was drenched with sweat, slightly sickened, but even more, she was enormously aroused.
Their monitor for the day ordered them into line, and they marched back to their barracks for lunch mixed with a discussion period on what they saw.
Hennie became more and more aroused as the day progressed, and by evening, she was more than happy that no prisoners had been directed to the left door.
She really wanted Franz, and when, after dinner, the girls were marshalled into the common room of the officers to be assigned, she wanted desperately for Franz to pick her.
He didn't. He didn't even seem to notice that she existed.
He picked a petite young redhead named Sophia. Hennie could willingly have hated her.
That was the first night she tasted Hans's prick, however. She had noticed the doctor, older than her by several years, eyeing her almost constantly when they had been on the train out to the camp, and during their meals.
He and one other doctor who was later assigned to Buchenwald, had a special status. As doctors who had joined the army of the Third Reich, they had some experience with experimentation, and also torture techniques. They were regarded as minor officers, and therefore, although they took their classes with the others in basic techniques, they had their own quarters.
He brought her to his small, sparsely-furnished, but comfortable room, slamming the door with some flair. He grinned at her, his blue eyes glinting with lust and pride.
"At last!" he said. "I've been wanting you for a long time."
Hans, as far as Hennie was concerned, wasn't even second-best to Franz. There was nothing elegant about him, and he was conceited beyond bearing. She had great contempt for him.
Already he was known as a doctor of minimal skill, a loser.
But because he had a doctor's degree, and that minimal skill, he automatically had the status that went along with it-especially in wartime when any medical skill might spell the difference between life and death.
"You might be interested to know," he said, casually, as he started to strip, "that I have been assigned to supervise the interrogation training sessions."
"Congratulations," Hennie said, following suit and removing her clothing. Sex to her was as much duty as pleasure, and she could please anyone. She had learned that before her sixteenth birthday when she had joined the Hitler Youth Movement. She successfully hid her contempt for Hans behind a superficially pleasant veneer.
Hans, apparently, didn't often notice the contempt with which his fellow officers and female peers held him, but he was jealous of his position and he resented anything approaching a slight.
Hennie finished undressing before Hans did and she lay on the bed, spreading her legs wide.
Hans pulled down his shorts, revealing his raging hard-on. Hennie had already been apprised of his particularly rough brand of love-making, but tonight she didn't care.
Her pussy had been swollen, hot, and soggy with her juices all afternoon, and she was disappointed that Franz hadn't picked her. She felt slighted, so anything would do.
Hans sat down on the bed, and grinned lewdly. He cupped her muff roughly with his hand, and then pulled at some of her golden maidenhairs.
Hennie winced but said nothing, as his finger dug roughly into her pussy meat.
"Nice and wet and hot," he murmured.
He got up on the bed, on his knees, and lifted her legs to his shoulders.
Hennie felt his cock head pressed against her pussy hole, and she relaxed, knowing that he would push into her like a battering ram.
Laurie had already had Hans, and had cautioned Hennie, if he ever used her, to masturbate thoroughly before she went with him, because he didn't wait, and seldom indulged in foreplay.
At least Hennie didn't need to frig herself this time.
An animal-like, guttural growl issued from Hans's throat, as he thrust inward violently.
The position in which he held Hennie allowed for maximum penetration. Hennie closed her eyes, and took enough deep breaths so that she experienced a rush and felt light-headed.
Hans's prick slammed into her, his hard shaft of meat plowing through her tight pink walls brutally.
The effect wasn't as brutal as it might have been. Hennie suddenly realized, as Hans's prick butted against the fleshy roof of her meaty hole how horny she had been.
She shivered with a wild mini-orgasm which rippled through her like lightning. A hot wave of her juices flushed out of her well-stuffed snatch, as Hans started to move in her, his prick wreaking a hot, wild devastation in her hungry womanhood.
She closed her eyes, and abandoned herself to the wanton waves of pleasure which surged through her.
Hans fucked her roughly, pulling his prick out to the tip, and then slamming it inward through her well-greased tunnel, until he was buried to the hilt in her hot wet nest of lust.
Hennie, determined to extract every last ounce of pleasure' in payment for the sexual duty she was performing, ground her muff lasciviously against Hans's hairy loins, feeling her clitoris, stimulated by his wiry hairs, pop out of its fleshy sheath and tingle with a multitude of intense sexual sensations.
His hairy balls slapped noisily against her quivering, up-ended ass cheeks, and the hairs became wet and matted as the thick honey flowed from her pussy.
She felt the blood surging through her like hot waves, causing her ears to ring, her temples to throb. She brought her hands to her breasts, and started to caress them.
Her skin crawled with the insane pleasure which took possession of her. Lost in the abandoned wonder of carnal delirium, she writhed and squirmed hotly on Hans's hard-driving prick, as he pistoned in and out of her pussy.
She felt as if he were driving his prick right through her belly, and up through her passion-constricted throat.
She gurgled with the hot delight which surged through her, and started to sweat copiously, as she felt her orgasm starting deep in her womanhood. It spread outward in flickering, hot waves, wavering, faint at first, but building in intensity.
She felt her sex flesh rippling, as Hans's prick slammed into her over and over again, his hard, brutal shaft massaging the itching walls of her cunt, driving her deeper into the sexual delirium which had gripped her.
Her head snapped back against the pillow, and her fingers dug deeply into the fleshy wealth of her throbbing boobs, as Hans reamed out her cunt.
She needed it-needed that harsh roughness. She had been hungry and aroused all day.
She squirmed around and around on Hans's prick as he drilled her sex slit with increasing fury. She kicked at his rippling back with the heels of her feet as he continued to lunge into her, his cock plumbing the depths of her teeming womanhood over and over again, until she was squealing wildly with the ecstasy which flickered through her hotly.
Her cunt clenched like a fist, and then her pussy walls clamped and relaxed rhythmically, around Hans's hard-driving dork, as her orgasm mounted. It seemed to take a long, long time to reach its peak, the very slowness adding to the pleasure of her final release by virtue of the frustration she felt.
And even as the orgasm flooded her body, causing her to gasp and cry out with raging passion, she felt the tiny pin-pricks of another orgasm starting right behind the first.
Hans kept slamming his prick into her, his hairy loins battering her tingling, aroused sex flesh, as she squirmed insanely under his humping body, totally lost in the delicious sexual confusion which blighted her brain and swelled her body until she felt she was all cunt-one big, sucking, juicing pussy.
All her consciousness descended to her hot, convulsing hole, as Hans continued to ram into her.
She felt his prick swelling in her convulsing cunt, increasing the orgasmic pressure which threatened-to blow her body away.
The very violence of the multiple orgasms caused her to expend her energies furiously as she humped and writhed under Hans's hard-driving loins.
He smashed into her with increasing fury, the impact of his hairy loins jarring her body pleasantly, and heightening the erotic pleasure which blinded her.
Behind her tightly-closed eyelids, she .saw bright flashes of light exploding. The light was hot and it seeped like heated oil through her lust-besotted flesh, and another orgasm started to ripple upward before the second had died away.
Her flat belly turned concave as the blissful tension seized her again, causing her muscles to tighten until her body felt like a rock-hard on the outside but with a boiling core of seething lava inside, almost like a volcano.
The third orgasm erupted as Hans's come slit spewed forth its thick frothing load of come cream into her chaotic pussy.
She screamed, felt her consciousness fading slightly. For what felt like an eternity, she wallowed in a half-way world of pure sexual delight, as Hans emptied his balls into her convulsing, creaming cunt.
Long after she had passed out, she felt her cunt quivering with mini-orgasms. She felt as if she had spent a night in a wild, wracking wet dream. She had no idea how long Hans had fucked her, and she didn't care.
When she woke up, her pussy felt sore, but heated with more desire. It was morning, and the bells were sounding.
It was time to get up and start another day.
In the shower, after their calisthenics, Laurie and Hennie exchanged sexual confidences, as they always had.
"Who did you have?" she asked Laurie, who had been picked after her.
"Colonel Otto Witmann," she said.
"Was he good?"
"His cock is built the way his body is. I never felt so stuffed in my life. He's rather nice, actually. And I liked his bald head. It was nice to caress."
"Some day, maybe he'll pick me."
"How was Hans?"
"As bad as you said he was, but I'd been creaming all day yesterday anyway."
"Why?"
Hennie would never, ever reveal the source of some of her arousal, but she told half the truth anyway.
"That Franz-Franz Mittelstein?"
"Oh, yes, he's elegant. Sophia said he's marvelous in bed, and can go at it all night!"
Hennie gnashed her teeth with good-humored frustration, and she started to cream again.
"Ohhh, damn! Damn! Damn!" she hissed.
"What is it, Hennie?" Laurie asked.
Hennie turned mournful eyes on Laurie.
"I wanted him to pick me so badly it hurt. I've wanted him since I first laid eyes on him at the railroad siding yesterday morning. Oh, Laurie, I've got to have him!"
"Oh, my dear, my poor dear!" Laurie said, all her sympathy flowing out to comfort Hennie.
"I'm creaming right now," Hennie said, as she finished soaping herself.
"Out of the showers!" their monitor, a heavy-set, powerful-looking woman barked.
Laurie, who had embraced Hennie, jumped. The two of them hastily rinsed the soap off their glowing bodies, dried themselves and got dressed.
The did double-time to the mess hall, and after breakfast, they attended their first training session in interrogation.
If Hennie had known how messy it was going to be, she wouldn't have eaten breakfast. Fully half of her group, Company A, managed to heave up their morning meal.
Hennie, swallowing hard, kept hers down, for which, without knowing it, she earned the admiration and the growing attention of Franz, who had actually noticed her the day before.
When they were finished with the session, Hans giving some brutal advice on how best to inflict pain, Hennie was drenched with sweat and thoroughly aroused again.
Two days after she came back from the hospital, working late in her office, Frederick Sampler, also working late on dispatches, asked her to pour him a cup of coffee.
The next morning, he was found slumped over the teletype machine which had gone crazy, apparently dead of a heart attack.
Karl Freidrich and Max Brieden, with their usual thoroughness, had an autopsy performed.
Frederick Sampler, chief dispatcher and decoder in the Berlin headquarters, had died of a massive dose of strychnine poison.
There were now only four members left of Hitler's special high command, left in Berlin to carry out his orders.
The general staff, serving this high command in various capacities, began to desert.
Where there had been a growing inefficiency, there was now a situation akin to chaos in the headquarters.
Hennie had to move faster!
Time was running out, and there was still much, much more to do.
This time, however, fate was on her side, in a bizarre way that profoundly disturbed the fanatically zealous woman.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Tell me, something, Hennie, are you afraid?"
Hennie sat in Karl's living room. She was drinking brandy and chain-smoking. She looked keenly at the SS man whom Hitler had sent to Berlin, studying not only him, but more importantly, her own feelings.
She was desperate to accomplish her mission, but she was now under the watchful eyes of Karl Friedrich.
Max Brieden was in constant attendance on Carla Oberhoff, and Laurie had moved in with Colonel Aberhaus.
The plan was to eventually move into the headquarters building itself. It was certainly commodious enough and empty enough at this point.
Berlin looked basically like a deserted city. Everyone had gone underground. The rumors were that the city was going to be bombed, which Hennie though was ridiculous.
Berlin was the heart of the Third Reich. It would never be bombed. But the reports from the front were increasingly distressing by the hour. Their troops in Africa had been smashed. They were being pushed back closer and closer to Germany on the western front.
On the eastern front, no word had been received for three days.
Hennie looked at Karl and felt rather bleak.
"I would be a fool if I told you I wasn't afraid," she said, blowing a thick stream of smoke forcefully through her nostrils. "There are four of us left, and we haven't yet discovered the culprits, obviously. One man and three women," Hennie said, distracted and thinking, her mind wandering slightly. She was rather tired having put in thirty-six hours of work. "I wonder what they're saving the women for?"
"Two women, Hennie," Karl said.
Hennie's eyes widened, and she turned from the window she had been looking out of, onto an empty, wide street, to gaze at the SS man.
"What?"
"Two women left."
"Who?" she asked, feeling her face go white. She sat down.
Karl pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Hennie.
"Sorry. Of course we had to read it."
She looked at him, afraid to take the envelope. Karl pushed it forward, and Hennie took it reluctantly. It was addressed to her. The sealed flap had been steamed open. She slipped the single sheet of paper out of the envelope and opened it.
"My dear Hennie," she read, "I am sorry to have to go like this, but my dreams are all shattered, and I question the validity of the Third Reich. I, too, like Hans, think that Hitler is mad, that our nation has been vengefully mad for many years.
"I must end it all, but I cannot go before telling you how much I have loved you all these years-more than a sister, or a friend, but as your lover.
"I grieve for your loss of Franz, whom I know you have loved from our first day in training camp, and I wish you success and the courage to bear the end of the dream of the Third Reich, if you choose to live through it.
"I am afraid that once more Germany will be mired in her own mistaken notion of herself as better than the rest of the world, and I do not want to live to see it. All my love, Laurie."
She read it again, her shock preventing her from totally comprehending it. Or perhaps she needed to feel what her mind did perceive.
On the second reading, she rose convulsively from the chair where she had sat, and uttered a loud cry of rage and grief, and in her anguish, she tore the letter in two.
More than her own painful duty, Hennie mourned the way Laurie had chosen to go-gentle, sweet, efficient, quiet, self-effacing Laurie, so obedient, so intelligent in her docility, so able an administrator, so sweet and generous a friend.
Karl grasped her roughly by her shoulders, and shook her almost harshly. The cry which was rent from Hennie's throat seemed to go on and on and on, until Karl slapped her hard, brutally, across her face.
She stopped, shocked by the stinging blow, and in one monumental effort, exerted enough self control to look at Karl.
"She was lolled, too!"
"No, she died a suicide. I fear we are all doomed, Hennie."
"No!" Hennie screamed, sitting down again.
Karl poured her more brandy which she sipped gratefully.
"How are we going to fulfill the mission which Hitler gave us?" she asked, her face streaked with tears.
"As best we can, if we can," Karl said, leaning back in his chair, opposite to Hennie's and crossing his long, elegant legs.
"Not if! We will. We must! We must do some more recruiting."
"And where will we get our personnel? General headquarters is almost deserted, and the ones left can't pull their own weight," Karl said, matter-of-factly.
"That almost sounds like treason," Hennie said, leaning forward.
"Calm, my friend, calm!" Karl cautioned, raising his hand. "Acknowledging facts in order to cope with difficulties is not treason! I am one of Hitler's most trusted men-have been since the first days of the Third Reich."
"I apologize," Hennie said, leaning back in the chair, and forcing her heart to beat a little more slowly.
"No apologies necessary. You are distraught. For weeks now we have been under an enormous strain. Come here."
Hennie put down her drink and arose almost automatically from her chair, and went over to Karl's chair. He patted his knee, and she sat down on it.
Karl cradled her head and kissed her, his hungry tongue slithering between her unresisting teeth. She moaned and sucked on it, almost grateful for the demand. In sexuality she would find, at least for a few moments, forgetfulness from her troubles.
His mouth was full and warm, and sensual. Karl was a strange combination of personalities, brusque, non-communicative and brutal, as well as sensual, mild-mannered, and thoughtful.
In this difficult time it was necessary for all the soldiers of the Third Reich to be cautious. One never knew who one's enemies were, and Hennie was grieved to learn as the weeks passed and the news got worse and worse, that the pride-filled Master Race had its own number of rats who were willing to desert a sinking ship.
He unsnapped her gun and her belt and threw it to the floor, as Hennie surrendered to his kiss. Expertly, he unbuttoned her tunic, and pulled it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
Within moments, never once breaking the kiss, Karl had stripped Hennie. Her naked body lay submissive and quivering in his arms. He remained clothed, and the contrast was singularly arousing to Hennie.
She could feel his bulging manhood as she sat against his crotch, and her juices started to flow. As soon as she became enthralled with her sexual arousal, the tension of her grief, her anxiety about the state of the nation, eased up.
She threw her arms around Karl's neck and pressed her lips more hotly against his, still sucking on his tongue.
Their saliva mixed, and she felt her desire increasing, as Karl caressed her fabulous jugs, kneading her nipples until they were stiff little buds, tingling with passion.
She ran her fingers through his thick, light-brown hair, and moaned against his mouth as his hands ran up and down her smooth back. He cupped her ass cheeks, and then guided her so that she was straddling his legs, her knees braced on either side of his haunches in the wide, comfortable chair.
Still kissing him, she heard the harsh rasping of his zipper being pulled down.
She broke the kiss finally, and looked down as his hand reached in and pulled out his huge prick.
A wanton surge of lust suffused her creamy-white body with a blush, as she watched Karl aim his mighty spear at her creaming hole.
She gasped when she felt the soft, bulbous cock head pressing against her vaginal opening, and she pushed downward convulsively, impaling herself on the head of his lusty, lance of flesh.
She continued to push downward, feeling her pussy walls give way before the onslaught of his powerful, throbbing battering ram.
She sucked in all of his cock and then squirmed on his pubic hairs, which were ringed by the metal of the zipper. Even the scratching of the metal against her passion-swollen pussy lips aroused her, as she gyrated her hips around and around on the base of his throbbing prick, glutting herself on the pleasure which surged through her.
Karl pressed her torso against his clothed torso, and she rubbed her flattened tits against the rough fabric of his uniform, feeling the brass buttons digging pleasantly into her flesh, denting it.
At first, the metal was cool, but as her flesh pressed against it, the zipper and the buttons became warm from her body heat.
She started to rise and fall on Karl's prick, feeling his hard, thick shaft rubbing against her tight pussy walls, the fleshy friction of his prick increasing her own sexual heat.
Her juices oozed out around his prick, and turned his pubic hairs into a slimy warm pool as she moved up and down on his cock.
Her soft inner sex flesh tingled with a growing excitement.
She felt her heart swelling in her breast, felt her skin crawling with the wild havoc which reigned in the depths of her womanhood.
Curling her arms tightly around Karl's neck, she pressed her breasts even harder against the rough fabric of his uniform, enjoying the way the cloth abraded her soft skin.
Goose flesh formed on her skin and a prickling sense of tension filled her body.
She started to grunt as she moved up and down on his prick, riding his massive spear with increasing frenzy as she felt a seething, pre-orgasmic tension gripping her belly.
Her flat stomach caved inward as the pleasant pressure and tension increased. Her lovely flesh gleamed with a thin coating of sex sweat, and through his clothing, Hennie could feel Karl's heat rising. It seemed to waft over her in comforting waves, which added another sensual dimension to the passion which enthralled her.
Karl started to buck upward, his hands gripping her waist to steady her. She felt his cock head butting against the teeming depths of her pussy, driving her crazy with growing ecstasy.
His cock slithered into her pussy over and over again, as her juices welled up and flowed downward in increasing quantities. His upward bucking motions meshed with her downward lunges, as she drove his prick deeper and deeper into her pussy.
On each downward lunge, she mashed her tumescent twat meat against his hairy loins, until her clitoris felt as if it were on fire.
She moaned more loudly, and her hands gripped his shoulders fiercely as she slammed down on his prick faster and harder. Against her buns, the fabric of his trousers also made contact, abrading the sensitive flesh of her ass, and further stimulating her to sexual riot.
She felt as if she had turned into a wanton, mindless animal, who was rutting herself to death, and she didn't care.
She wanted that forgetfulness, that brief moment of total, surrender, total abandonment.
Karl's prick moved upward harder and faster as he raised his ass cheeks off the chair, driving his prick deeper into her wet and wanting womanhood.
She felt the pleasant ache of desire increase, felt her cuntal walls closing in around his prick as her orgasm rumbled ponderously in the depths of her belly.
She was panting heavily, sounding almost like someone having a heart attack as the hot, demanding waves of delight surged through her. She felt as if her body were being turned inside out, as Karl reamed out her cunt with his massive prick.
His grip around her waist tightened, and his prick made wet sucking noises as he plumbed the depths of her pussy more and more powerfully.
The fleshy impact of his cock head in the depths of her cunt seemed to jar all her internal organs.
Every fiber of her body seemed to tingle, and she felt the hairs on the nape of her neck curling as the climax mounted, became more and more intense.
Her breasts throbbed intensely as the lusty blood surged through her, causing her ears to ring. Her temples throbbed, and her heart beat insanely.
She felt as if her entire body had become one huge pulse point, as she rose and fell on Karl's prick, slamming down on it with an increasing fury as the orgasm built and built in her.
"Ahhh!" she gasped, as she felt the first fiery twinges of total ecstasy taking possession of her.
Her cuntal walls started to ripple, and then to convulse around Karl's hard-driving prick.
The pleasure mounted to an almost unbearable pitch. Her head snapped back as Karl continued to ream out her pussy, driving his loins up against her nether flesh with sufficient strength to jar her body. Her tits danced lewdly with her motions, as she continued to writhe, impaled on his massive, fleshy pole.
At the height of her orgasm, she felt his hot juices pouring into her pussy. His gism mixed hotly with her own come cream and swelled the slimy tide which poured out of her cunt.
Her spasms intensified, and then started to fade away, leaving her quivering in the warm aftermath of her orgasm.
Karl emptied his balls into her sucking snatch, and then his body relaxed. Hennie lay warm and relaxed against his chest for a moment, and then Karl stood up, his cock slipping out of Hennie's pussy. He held her until her feet were planted firmly on the floor.
Hennie was surprised. Karl was never satisfied with one ejaculation. She looked up at his face. He was looking out the window, his face strained.
"What is it?"
"Hush!"
He listened. Hennie's ears were still ringing from her orgasm, and then she heard it, too. The dull impact on her ears!
She rushed to the window, forgetful of her nudity, Karl right behind her, his thick, hard prick sticking lewdly from his open fly. There was a large, dark stain around his crotch, where their combined come cream had poured out of Hennie's pussy.
In the distance, she saw a faint dark haze. The throbbing happened again, causing her ears to pop.
"Bombs!" Karl exclaimed.
"No!" Hennie cried, "Impossible! They could never get near Berlin!"
The next dull throbbing sound rattled the window.
"Get away from here," Karl said, pulling her back, and drawing the black-out drapes closed.
"Close the rest of them," Karl said.
Within moments, the apartment was in darkness, and Hennie went to a lamp to turn it on. It went on with a flash, flickered, and then went yellow.
"They're getting the power plants," Karl said.
Hennie went to the kitchen, and got candles, which she lit.
"What do we do now?" she asked. "We should try to get to headquarters."
"Impossible," Karl said. "We'll wait it out. Pack a bag, though. I have a feeling we shall not be back."
Hennie's eyes widened.
Again she was about to protest. Karl sounded like Laurie in her last letter. She went to the bedroom, and packed two bags, one for her and one for Karl. Then she systematically went through the papers, burning many of them in the fireplace, and securing the others for reference.
"Burn them all," Karl said in the doorway.
"We shall need them."
"The allies will use them when they enter Berlin. Burn them all!"
Hennie had a sinking sensation, and felt desolated, but she obeyed. The papers were soon all consigned to the flames of the large, old-fashioned fireplace in the bedroom.
Karl got undressed, and lay down on the bed.
"Now come here," he said. Hennie hesitated a moment, and Karl laughed.
"Well, why not?" he asked. "There is nothing else to do, and I hate waiting in idleness."
Karl fucked her furiously. The bombing never hit Berlin that night, but it didn't stop until dawn.
Hennie had a strange, surrealistic sense that she was living in a nightmare, a nightmare etched in blood and fear, and many, many dead people.
They showered in the morning, took one last look around the apartment to make sure nothing was left. to give ammunition to the enemy, and then proceeded toward the headquarters.
They heard many horror tales from the citizens gathered in furtive clusters on street corners. Businesses were boarded up, and there were few cars on the road-most of those heading out of town.
And then it hit Hennie like a ton of bricks. She gasped, and stopped short on their way toward the huge, magnificent building which housed the general headquarters.
"Karl!"
"What is it?"
"There are no people left in Berlin!"
"There are some, as you can see-but you are right. There has been a subtle exodus out of this town for a month. The people have been talking about the bombing of Berlin. I think, perhaps, we should have listened to them. They were right."
"Right!"
"The people always survive, and their instincts are best-not the leaders, necessarily," Karl said.
"But they have deserted their posts!" Karl laughed.
"That is an exercise in futility at this point. Come, my dear. We have much work to do for the Third Reich before we can lay down our arms."
Hennie staggered slightly and Karl grabbed her elbow.
"Calm, comrade, calm! The war has come to Berlin, finally."
Shaking her head, Hennie followed Karl to the headquarters building. There was a skeleton staff on duty-a few diehards, loyal to the end. They had brought sleeping gear with them, prepared to hold out till the end.
"Start fires going in the stoves," Karl ordered them. "Then we shall empty the files. We don't want to leave anything behind."
An hour after they set about their work, Colonel Aberhous, accompanied by Max Brieden, walked into the headquarters building.
"Corporal Carla Oberhoff is dead," the colonel said, smiling at Hennie. He reached into his inner breast pocket, and pulled out an official envelope, containing Hitler's seal of state.
"Your orders, General Midden."
Hennie was too tired, too vexed, to feel any elation. She had, with the colonel's help-and they were allied in the matter-carried out to the letter, Hitler's personal, secret missive to them.
"Destroy all the under-command at Berlin Headquarters," it read. "And wait for contact from Agents Bulldog-92 and Firefly-4, who will carry further orders. At the completion of this assignment, Corporal Hennie Midden will be commissioned general, and Colonel William Aberhaus will be Commander-in-chief of Military Services, General and First Aid to Adolph Hitler, Fuhrer of the Third Reich, and the World."
"Your new orders," Max said, handing Hennie and the colonel a sealed envelope.
Hennie slit hers open.
"You will proceed with Agents Bulldog-92 and Firefly-4 to my bunker headquarters immediately for new orders."
"Is yours marked secret?" Hennie asked, showing the colonel her orders. The four of them had gone into a private office.
"It was," he. said gravely. "However, by tomorrow morning, the whole world will know about the Night of the Generals."
"I don't understand," Hennie said.
"Twenty-seven generals of Hitler's staff are at this moment being liquidated. Hitler will purge our leadership, and then the war effort can continue."
"Then we shouldn't burn these papers!" Hennie declared.
"Oh, but yes!" Karl said. "In war some things must be done under certain conditions. Berlin will be bombed, if not tonight, then tomorrow night. When it is bombed, it will be carrion for the allies. We cannot leave them any meat to pick from our bones. We cannot give them any ammunition."
Throughout that day, the work continued. By nightfall, Hennie had a feeling of helplessness. They hadn't cleaned out one-third of the files. The work stretched on in endless array.
And hope seemed to have died. The glory had bled from Germany, leaving a pale, weak corpse.
CHAPTER NINE
The bombs didn't come that night, but they were close enough to jar the building in which the remnants of Hitler's glorious high command camped.
Colonel William Aberhaus came to Hennie that night, as she lay on a mattress in one of the rooms on the top floor.
"Tomorrow," he said, "We shall have to move to the basement."
"Why?" she asked dully, tortured by brilliant memories which were more real than the dull reality she experienced, the jarring of the building by the bombs which got closer and closer.
She was remembering how brilliant they were, marching in formation, how strong, how free of all restraint, how hopeful.
And as she remembered, she felt as if her mind were shrinking, going from a blazing fire of inspiration and hope with the promise of happiness, to a glowing angry-red ember that gave no heat, that flickered dully with a million past memories, compacted, intense in their effect as they flashed into her slowly shrinking mind.
Another era of poverty, of disgrace before the world, loomed before her fevered imagination, and she struggled to maintain her hope, her ambition.
"The bombs will probably come. According to what I have just heard from a soldier, they are knocking out our anti-aircraft."
"It is too much! We must stop them!"
"They will be stopped," the colonel said, smiling and lying beside her. He pulled her into his arms.
"In a few days we shall be with Hitler in his bunker, and then the glory will be ours. We will retrench and strike again, and the allies will feel the full force our or glory."
Hennie felt vaguely comforted, felt her mind expanding with hope again, as the colonel roughly divested her of her clothing.
Boom! Boom!
The bombs sounded, pounding the earth, jarring Hennie's body until the vibration of the bombs' impacts felt like a throbbing of her own flesh.
Her heart ticked erratically, and every now and then swelled. It was as if the booming were a hot gas which swelled with atmospheric conditions, and affected her entire body.
The colonel kissed her greedily, his tongue snaking into her mouth. Hennie surrendered to her master, moaning against his mouth.
"Wonderful woman, to have accomplished so much so fast!"
"And you!" she gasped, thinking of the generals who were no more. They had not yet heard word, but five generals had been found hanging from wire in the cellar of one of the public buildings in the morning.
Vague rumors were reaching them of some kind of annihilation. But what was disturbing Hennie was that these rumors were not heartening the soldiers, but causing panic. The purification of the leadership, desperately needed, was having the effect of chaos, instead of molding the army and those left in Berlin closer together.
Hennie resigned herself to the colonel's arms, to the growing passion that had never failed her, helped her to keep control of her senses, her warring instincts.
Tonight her flesh seemed to be composed of the shredded, flayed flesh of everyone she had ever tortured or seen tortured. She was man and woman together, driving passion, and passive need.
"Your ass! I want your ass!" the colonel gasped, rolling her over onto her belly.
Hennie raised her ass cheeks up in the air, and she felt fingers digging into her dimpled soft buns. He spread her ass cheeks roughly. Hennie's juices spurted from her quivering quim, as the colonel's cock head pressed against the puckered brown ring of her anus.
She brought her hands to her tits, and caressed them, moaning gutturally as the colonel impaled her on his massive prick.
She winced as she felt the initial discomfort of his prick, spreading her asshole walls wide, and she remembered the time Hans had first speared her asshole with his lusty lance.
Hans whom she had killed.
"Arggh!" she cried, as the colonel's prick drilled through her tiny bung hole. Hennie felt besotted with lust and a driving greed for life.
Passion was life, fucking was life, and the more she got of it, the better.
She pulled on her puckered nipples, stretching her melon-shaped breasts so that they assumed a conical shape. The colonel's cock thrust inward, his hands gripping her slender haunches tightly.
His massive prod inched deeper and deeper into her bowels, and she felt her sphincter muscles clamp greedily around his invading rod, as he buried himself balls-deep in her dank after passage.
Hennie brought her hands down from her breasts, caressing her flat belly, until one hand was cupping her dripping muff.
She pulled on her pussy hairs, enjoying the sting as some of the hairs, were pulled out of her love mound.
She felt a pleasant pressure building in her entrails, as the general started to move in her.
As he withdrew his prick, she felt a pleasant downward-rushing sensation, as if the head of his cock were magnetized and pulling all her internal organs with it. And she wanted the sensation, liked the sensation of being totally empty, totally at peace.
She had done her work. She wanted the glory.
She growled and pressed her head against the mattress, as the colonel plunged his prick into her back passage again. This time the discomfort was minimal and she started to slide her fingers up and down over the honeyed, passion-bloated flaps of flesh, feeling her sex quiver with a growing delight. Boom!
Hennie felt her heart swell convulsively again, and her sphincter muscles closed tightly around the colonel's hard-driving cock.
He was grunting heavily, rhythmically, punctuating the thrusts of his prick with his voice.
Hennie shivered, and squeezed her clitoris, which became inflamed with the stimulation. It seemed to be on fire.
Boom!
A bright flash of hot, hot light seared Hennie's eyeballs as she started to buck backward. The heat increased, and it did not seem to emanate from her body, but rather to come from the atmosphere.
"Argh!" the colonel cried.
Hennie felt a hot gush of his man juice pouring into her quivering bowels. The hot scum eased the passage of his prick, which pummeled her buns furiously, as he pumped into her, emptying his seething balls in a raging fury of orgasm.
Hennie screamed as her own orgasm rushed through her, gripping her fiercely. Her heart seemed to be out of kilter. Boom!
Her climactic convulsions froze her body for a moment, in a transcendent ecstasy which felt like lightning. Her heart stopped. Her breathing stopped. Her hand froze on her pussy, and her sphincter muscles gripped and held the colonel's prick.
Boom!
"Yearrgh!"
The colonel, momentarily arrested in his thrusting motions, moved again, as Hennie's ass muscles sucked the last of his scum from his seething balls.
Hennie felt insatiable, wanted more. She bucked backward.
Boom!
Her eyes flickered open, as a bright orange curtain flooded the thin membranes of her closed eyelids with warmth. And then she saw the room, bizarrely lit, saw the orange flickering over the walls, turning the colonel's sweat-gleaming face a lurid color.
His flesh appeared to be melting as the flickering of flames cast moving shadows over it. His features were made of rubber. They moved, changed position on his face, spread and contracted.
Hennie was bemused, and she felt as if what she were seeing were normal.
The door flung open.
"Colonel, Corporal! To the cellars! The bombs have come!" Boom!
The colonel pulled out of Hennie's ass. She felt the soft implosion of her rectal walls as they closed together, felt the colonel's scum pouring out of her after passage. She rolled over, and lay flat on the mattress, watching the flickering orange light, feeling her pussy bloat beyond anything she had ever experienced before.
Standing in the doorway, Karl gazed at her.
The colonel rushed around the room, gathering up his clothes.
He looked at Hennie for one brief moment.
"Hurry, woman, hurry!"
Hennie smiled. She started to hum "Deutschland uber alles," and caressed her tits with increasing fervor.
The general, naked, fled past Hennie and out the door.
Boom!
Karl slammed the door shut just as the bomb landed. He stood, a magnificent paradigm of the Teutonic race, his legs slightly splayed, staring down at her, his face lurid in the flickering light.
"Come my darling. Let us make a baby-a baby for the Master Race. A perfect child."
Karl smiled and threw off his clothes, revealing his fabulous body.
He threw himself on top of Hennie, the impact of his body jarring her. She threw her legs up in the air and wrapped them around Karl's waist as he lunged into her hot wet hole.
"You and I-we are all that's left of the dream," he whispered, as his massive cock, demanding the life he would never have, pumped in and out of her pussy.
Hennie's mind closed down. The glowing ember of reason left exploded into a carnal riot, as she surrendered to Karl's prick.
Karl and she would go together in a blaze of passion, while the other meager excuses died skulking in the cellar.
Boom!
She cried out as she felt her pussy sucking spastically on Karl's hard-driving prick. His cock lunged into her deeper and deeper.
Hennie was all cunt, as she raked Karl's body with her fingernails, leaving welts behind that would melt in the flames, as his flesh melted.
Their flesh would fuse together, they would die together, locked carnally in an act of magnificent defiance, but there would only be ashes left. No one in the meager, ugly world would know what they had done.
But they were heroes nevertheless.
Karl's cock was relentless. Boom!
Somewhere close, glass shattered as Hennie screamed in the throes of her first orgasm. He was better than Franz, gentle Franz, who hadn't the heart to keep the whole thing going.
His body was hot, hotter than normal. Somewhere there was a fire and the air in the room was seething with it.
Boom!
The pressure of the explosion was so close that both man and woman felt the pressure. Their breath was bated, as they writhed together. Their sweat was hot, their hot breaths commingled in a wide, wild kiss in which they both would drown, but it would not happen.
The fire would consume them, as it would consume the big dream, the hegemony of Germany over the rest of the pallid, ugly, sordidly common world.
Like gods, they wrestled in their passion, their only reality the dream they would not relinquish.
Karl growled, and his teeth bit into Hennie's neck, drawing blood, as he emptied his balls into her creaming, convulsing cunt.
And still he writhed, his muscular buttocks rising and falling as he plunged his manhood into her over and over again, each inward thrust driving his prick into the teeming, welcoming, seething depths of Hennie's capacious womanhood.
His prick which had not totally softened got hard again with the soft friction of her hot wet walls clutching greedily at his manhood, sucking him into her rapaciously.
She caressed his rippling ass cheeks with the heels of her feet, and ground her muff against his now slimy-wet loins.
Her hips bucked up against him, her upward motions meshing with his inward lunges, as his lusty spear cleaved her flesh over and over again.
Boom!
A hot, blood-red flood of passion surged through Hennie, as she abandoned herself wildly to Karl's hard-pistoning prick.
She felt as if it had grown to twice its normal size, felt as if he had become a fucking demon, taking possession of her. His cock cleaved through her pussy-cleaved through her belly and emerged from her mouth, screaming wildly.
The vocalizations of her passion were like palpable forces, creating pleasure the same way the friction of Karl's cock was creating pleasure.
Her body seemed to transcend its bounds. Her cunt filled her whole torso, a huge, gaping, juicing, sucking cunt to accommodate the biggest prick in the world! Boom!
The building shook with their passion. The wild surges of wracking spasms jarred the floor beneath her body.
She bucked against Karl's hard-driving loins, as Karl let out a roar of passion and spewed his come-filled balls into Hennie's wildly convulsing cunt.
And still they fucked. Karl's cock wouldn't go soft, and Hennie's pussy wouldn't stop convulsing.
Another wild orgasm surged through her. Karl's cock seemed to get hotter and harder. He was a paradigm of the Master Race, his cock ramming into the depths of her teeming twat with an increasing strength.
Her heart swelled in her breast, almost as big as her palpitating pussy, and the rhythm of her sex flesh, pulsating with passion, matched the rhythm of her heart.
The breath was sucked out of her as she felt the orgasm seething through her, wracking her limbs, her internal organs.
And then her body seemed to swell-to explode with a raging passion that burned.
Boom!
The bomb was a direct hit.
The fire that licked at the writhing flesh of Karl and Hennie, fused their flesh together. Their limbs, scorched, burning with flames other than the lust which had made them insane, were locked together. Their flesh melted into one seething, writhing lump.
Long after they were dead, their bodies writhed as the flames licked luridly at their frail flesh and bones, playing with them, causing their bodies to move, to undulate in the scorching heat.
The dream of the Master Race had been consumed in the fire of its own fanaticism.
First Lieutenant Mark Rogers, gun at the ready, walked through the gutted building. There were only a few outside walls left.
His command were already going through whatever papers were left-those in fireproof safes or metal files that hadn't been melted with the heat, arid most of those were in the basement.
"It sure is the goddamnedest thing!" his second-in-command said, walking toward him from the other end of the corridor on the top floor. Most of the roof was off. The building sagged dangerously.
"What is it, Charlie?" he asked, peering cautiously into a room which was scorched. The wall was gone on one side.
"Down at the end of the hall!" Charlie said, indicating with his gun. Charlie and Mark walked cautiously down the hall, keeping to the inside retaining walls.
"This building's gonna go any minute," Mark said. He was sweating, but he had his orders.
"Whaddya think of that?" Charlie asked, smirking lewdly. Mark whistled.
Lying on the floor in the middle of a room which had no outside wall, and no roof were the charred remnants of a body-no, not one body. He walked into the room, wrinkling his noise. He had cleaned out two concentration camps, but he never stopped being nauseated by the smell of burned flesh, and it was particularly strong in this room.
They had found asphyxiated Nazis in the cellar, but they didn't expect to find anyone on any of the upper floors.
He walked cautiously into the room, aware of how weak the floors were and stood over the obscene spectacle-a man and woman, locked in coitus, their blackened bodies virtually fleshless.
The jaw of the woman was agape, the flesh seared from the bone. Her eyeless sockets glared up, a mockery of human life.
Her arms stretched upward, the fingers blackened and claw-like, contracted, her charred legs still locked around the virtually fleshless waist of the man on top of her.
His legs were bent at the knees, the feet charred, the toes pointing toward the floor in a mockery of ecstasy that was not the ecstasy of life's passion, but the horrible ecstasy of agonized death.
"Rotten Krauts! Serves them right," Charlie said, spitting at the forever-locked couple. "Wonder who they were?"
"They probably didn't know who they were themselves when they got it!" Mark observed, getting sickened by the sight as much as by the smell of their death.
"Go get Joe and Allen, and bury that mess somewhere, fast."
"Some Master Race! Didn't have the smarts to get in out of the rain," Charlie observed. "Disgusting!"
"Par for the course," Mark replied. "The Nazis are disgusting! All of them!"
"Well," Charlie said, philosophically, snapping the ever-present wad of gum in his mouth, "they lived by fire, and they sure as hell died by it."
"And if I'm any good at guessing, they're probably still writhing in fire-an eternal one."
"Why, Lieutenant Rogers, where's your sense of Christian charity?" Charlie quipped sarcastically.
"I don't know," Mark said, turning his back on the sickening spectacle. "I seem to have lost it the minute we crossed the border."
Charlie looked down at the mass of blackened congealed flesh, pulled the wad of gum out of his mouth, and expertly flipped it at the opened jaw of the woman. His aim was superb. It lodged in her gaping mouth.
"So much for the Master Race!" he snorted, walking swiftly out of the room without a backward glance, to fulfill his mission.
