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 FOR LOVE OF FRANCE

   An Entertainment in several parts by James Anderton

   The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and
contains descriptions of explicit sex.  If you are not an adult, or reading
sex stories upset you, do not read any further.
Prologue:
"Francoise Chambet, Ex Model.  Ex wife, and soon to be Ex Publisher."

The thoughts wouldn't leave her.  Here she was, two years into the war, and
now the Boche have murdered her editor.  It had been bad enough when her
husband Gilles had been killed at the beginning of the war, but at least he
had died fighting, and had also left her his fortune and publishing
business.  Life had been tough.  At first, as Nazi censorship took hold,
all pretence at objectivity became futile, and Francoise had decided to
give up.  Let the Boche publish their own lies.  It had been Bernard who
had persuaded her otherwise.

   "Run the paper for them, but use your contacts to help the Maquis" he
had said.  So she did.  And now, probably by accident, she was alone.  The
air raid had been precise, the old police station reduced to rubble, her
Editor-Brother killed by allied bombs as he cultivated his contacts in the
local Military headquarters., leaving her staring at the flickering flames
wondering what on earth she should do.  Somehow she had to find a way of
keeping the information flowing.

   She looked sullenly around the huge room she was sitting in.  Memories
of the five years she had shared with Gilles before the war came flooding
back.  In her mind the room took on it's previous glamour.  She remembered
how the Chateau used to be the social centre of the district.

   "That's it" she thought bitterly to herself.  If society is to be run by
the Germans, then I will offer them the premises from which to do it.



   ==========================================

   Part 1:

   "Hierein!" Ernst Hartmann sat behind his huge oak desk, revelling in the
space afforded him in his new, if temporary office.  At One metre 80, he
was not amongst the tallest of men, but he was tall enough, good looking,
and exuded that indefinable authority that made people accept his orders
without question.  The allies had done him a favour, wiping out much of the
hierarchy and elevating him to Regional Head of the Gestapo.  From here, he
would be more able to effect schemes that not only served his masters, but
also allowed him to practice being one.

   The young woman dressed in full military uniform stood stiffly to
attention in front of the desk.  "Corporal Monika Glasneck at your service
Sir" she shouted.

   "At ease!  Corporal." I will call you Monika in private, you will call
me Sir!  Understood?"

   "Yes sir".  She adjusted her stance, dropping the salute, resting both
hands clasped together in the small of her back, feet slightly apart, heels
closer together than toes.

   "Well then, Monika, tell me about yourself"

   "Yes Sir!" Her heels clicked, despite being "At Ease".  "I am 22 years
old, married, from Dresden, Sir.  I joined the Hitler Youth at 16, joined
the Administrative Corps two years ago after I married.  My husband was
posted to North Africa so I volunteered for special duties, and was posted
here as secretary to Colonel Grauhof, Sir!" Although not overly well
developed, her chest swelled with pride as she yelled her CV.

   Hartmann stood up, and walked leisurely around the desk.  He stood
behind Monika, legs slightly akimbo, tapping his stick gently against his
leg.  "What do you know of your assignment?"

   "I am to provide secretarial services to the Colonel, but am covertly
assigned to your section, Sir!  My orders are to follow your orders, Sir"

   "And did they teach you to take orders, Monika?"

   "Yes Sir, without questioning, Sir"

   Hartmann stroked his cane against the seam of her stocking.  She stood
still, not flinching as he ran it between her knees.  He tapped the cane
gently between them, encouraging her to spread her stance.  She did so,
immediately, unquestioningly.

   "Were you not taught to put your stockings on properly?  Your seams are
not straight"

   "Sorry, Sir", she replied, knowing full well she was being tested.  Her
seams were immaculate.  They always were.

   Hartmann smiled to himself.  He had been told that having a compliant
obedient indoctrinated little bitch like this one was a perk of rank, but
he never expected to get the opportunity to savour it so swiftly.  I can't
let you out like that Monika, can I?  I will straighten them for you.  Bend
over and place your hands on my desk".

   "Yes sir".  Keeping her feet where they were, she leaned forward,
extended her arms and leaned forward until she almost lost her balance. 
She felt Hartmann's stick climb higher between her legs, lifting the hem of
her skirt above her stocking tops.  She heard his intake of breath as her
best silk knickers came into view.  Despite her curious situation, she felt
strangely aroused by her position.  She could feel the juices lubricating
her innards, and when the stick stopped its movement, withdrew, and let the
hem of her regulation skirt fall back, she felt the sharp pang of
disappointment.  Any such feeling was short-lived, however.  Almost
immediately she felt a cool waft of air as Hartmann lifted her skirt high
over her back, leaving her exposed to his gaze.  Out of the corner of her
eye she saw him bend over and smooth the tops of her stockings with a
gentle stroking motion of his hands.  He stood up, moved beside her, placed
one hand firmly on her bottom, leaned over mimicking her own stance, and
whispered in her ear.

   "Your knickers are wet.  Did you know?"

   "Yes Sir" she stuttered whilst maintaining the Military discipline she
knew was expected of her.  She was less sure when she felt his hand
ingratiate itself into her pants, drawing them down around her knees.  He
stood up, moving away behind her, leaving her confused but still strangely
excited.  The stick returned!  This time higher up her inside thigh.  She
shivered as it wormed its way into her slit, pausing when it teased her
clit.  A couple of gentle prods was all it took to have her on the verge of
orgasm, the tension unbearable.  Still it did not stop.  A short pause, and
on it went, pushing and prodding up her crack until it rested gently
against the bud of her arsehole.

   "I think you have been well trained, Corporal Glasnek.  I look forward
to taking full advantage." She felt the point of the stick twist lightly in
her bottom as, with a slight push, she felt it ease past her entrance,
penetrating to the point of discomfort.  "You also have a nice arse, he
muttered, did your husband use it?"

   "No Sir"

   "Then I might also enjoy introducing you to the pleasures of Sodomy."

   "Thank you, sir" she replied nervously, not sure how to respond to his
disdain.

   She had no time to worry about it.  The rustling of his trousers as he
unfastened his buttons was followed immediately by the soft PLOP as he
withdrew his stick.  She was ready for anything, but still the single
thrust of his enormous penis into her vagina took her by surprise.  She
rocked forward on her hands, forced against the desk, painfully squashing
her breasts against the cool woodwork.  She thought, fleetingly, of the
gentle wooing from her husband that had left her so unmoved, before being
overwhelmed by the crashing orgasm that ripped through her body as he drove
relentlessly into her.  Her juices flowed.  Copious quantities ran down the
inside of her legs as he pounded on and on and on.  She had never
experienced such pleasure in all her young life.  When his orgasm came, her
own state of excitement was so high that she hardly noticed his dick
twitching in her pussy.  She felt him withdraw, and leaned, exhausted as he
tidied himself up, oblivious to the gooey mess running down her legs.

   "Attention!" The command snapped her from her reverie.  She snapped
upright, clipped her heels, and assumed her previous military bearing.  Her
skirt fell back over her bottom, her knickers fell to her feet.

   "You have done well, Corporal!  I am sure you will serve the Fuerher
well.  Report to me daily.  You are dismissed."

   Monika's chest swelled with pride as she stepped out of her knickers,
spun on her heels, and marched briskly out of his office, eager to do
whatever the domineering officer required in the name of the fatherland. 
Behind her, Hartmann picked up her discarded underwear and smiled to
himself, pondering the times to come.

   Part 2

   Colonel Jacob Grauhof sat smiling grimly to himself behind his new desk.

   Nothing had seemed to be going right.  Weeks of careful planning and
persuasion had convinced the Editor of the local paper to support his
programme for maintaining order, only for the damned RAF to kill him in a
speculative raid on the local Police Station.  Then Himmler's puppet
Hartmann had turned up, making life difficult, and accusing him of being
stupid to select the Police Station as his headquarters in the first place.
Suddenly, there he was, sitting in the shabby lounge of a hurriedly
appropriated Hotel, waiting to see the owner of the local paper, knowing
that he had objected to Bernard's editorial stance.  It could have been a
difficult day.

   A soft knock on the door announced the entry of the lovely Corporal
Glasneck.

   "The Owner of "Le Tribune" is here to see you sir."

   Grauhof felt the disdain in her voice as she swivelled on her lovely
ankles and swayed back to the doorway.  He knew she was going to make him
pay for his earlier clumsy attempt at seduction.  Things were definitely
not going well!

   His mournful reverie was interrupted.  A low swishing sound and the
clicking of feminine heels caused him to look up into the frank confident
gaze of one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

   "Colonel Grauhof!, I am Madame Chambet, Owner of Le Tribune.  I believe
you wished to see me".



   Part 3

   The room was cold and dank.  The girl stood in the middle, between two
soldiers.  No-one had said anything to her since they had picked her up
outside the farm three hours or more ago.  They had made it sound like an
invitation, but it clearly was not one she could turn down.  It had been
hot then, a fine summer's evening, but now the chill in this cellar was
cold on her bare arms and legs.  A light summer dress was inappropriate
garb for such a place.  The bang of the door startled her as a tall German
Officer strode briskly into the room.

   "Good evening Fraulein Gilbert.  Isobel, isn't it?"

   His smile, disarmingly warm, caused her to relax a little.  Perhaps this
was routine after all.

   "I have a little matter to resolve, and I am told that you are able to
help me resolve it"

   "If I can, I will"

   "Good", he smiled again, "that is exactly what I would want...," he
paused before adding "..and expect".

   The veiled threat was not lost on Isobel, as she realised that this was
no ordinary soldier standing before her.

   "And who do I have the pleasure of addressing?" She stammered,
attempting to demonstrate a confidence she did not feel.

   "Herr Ernst Hauptmann, at your service, Fraulein", his heels clicked
quietly as he leaned forward in a slight bow.  "I am head of the Gestapo
here, and I need to find your brother".

   "I expect he will be at home, by now" Isobel blurted out as the
seriousness of both her and her brother Gerard's situation became clear to
her.

   Hauptmann closed the gap between them and raised his hand.  As he spoke,
the menace in his voice grew, and he slowly drew his knuckles down her
cheek until he lightly held her chin between thumb and forefinger.  Isobel
felt as if the room had just cooled by another five degrees, as she
struggled to break his gaze.

   "We both know, liebtschen, that your brother has not been home for two
weeks.  You and I both know he is leader of the local resistance cell, and
will soon be called to account.  Isobel shook her head in apparent
disbelief, as Hartmann continued, his voice dropping to a whisper as he
moved his head closer and hissed into her ear.  "You, my pretty one, know
where he is, and you can either tell me the easy way, or not.  Either way,
you will tell me all you know."

   Isobel moved to step backwards as she protested her ignorance of any
such activities.  She got no further than half a step before she found her
two escorts closing down her retreat.  Strong arms gripped her elbows as
Hartmann leered into her face.  "So, we do it the hard way, eh?" His grip
on her chin loosened, and, tracing his index finger down the length of her
throat, began to gently stroke up and down her cleavage.  "Please tell me,
where has your brother been during the last two weeks?"

   Isobel stared at him, like a frightened rabbit in a car's headlights. 
"I don't know", she muttered, "I don't know".

   Hartmans eyes never left hers, as he repeated his question.  Whilst
doing so, his fingers flipped open the top button of her dress, revealing
the lacy top of her slip.  Two more repeats of the question, followed, each
meeting the same response, her dress unbuttoned to the waist.  "I think you
can see where this is leading, little one".  She began to struggle, but
only succeeded in dislodging one shoulder of her dress, which fell down her
arm revealing the lacy strap of her slip, and the swell of her breast. 
Hartmann's fingers continued to release her buttons until the whole of her
dress flapped loosely.  A slight relaxation of the escorts grip on her
elbows and suddenly her dress was round her ankles, leaving her standing
shivering in the cold dank air.

   Isobel glanced sideways at her captors.  The look of lust in their eyes
confirmed to her that even if she told Hatmann what she knew, she would
never get out of here unharmed.  Her resolve stiffened, she would not
betray Gerard!

   Hartmann was experienced.  He had been here before, and knew that even
total degradation and pain would not be enough to loosen the girls tongue.
He had seen it before, that steely look was only too familiar to him. 
Fortunately, he was also experienced enough to know how to deal with it,
but that could wait.  First, he and the troopers might have a little fun.
He reached out, stroking her breast through her slip, with the back of his
hand.  He no longer felt the need to question the girl, telling her that he
would stop when she agreed to co-operate was enough.  He knew she was
probably cold, but the shivering was definitely fear induced.  All the
better!.  A quick tug on the front of her slip was enough to leave her
standing in her knickers and stockings, her breasts firm and well formed,
her nipples standing out erect in the chill of the cellar.

   Isobel knew there was no turning back, but even she did not expect the
next move.  Hartmann's hand returned to her breast.  "Please", he said
gently, "kneel down"!  She ignored him, looking him straight in the eye
with a defiant stare.  His fingers began to gently roll her left nipple,
stimulating it until it began to tingle.  "Please", he repeated, his eyes
never leaving hers, "kneel down".  She continued to ignore him as the grip
of his fingers tightened.  Swiftly what had been irritating became painful,
until his fingers were tightly squeezing her tender flesh.  Tears began
welling in her eyes as she felt her resolve weakening.  His grip changed
slightly, still squeezing hard, he began to pull downwards, extending her
nipple before dragging her slowly to the floor as she submitted to the
pain.

   "Good", he whispered, still maintaining the incongruously placid tone of
voice.  "I see you are beginning to understand".  " Please open your
mouth". She looked quizzically at him, not really understanding what he
meant.  "Come on now, don't disappoint me again"!  She parted her lips and
formed a small "O".  "Wider", she complied, feeling stupid kneeling here on
the cold floor, her nipple burning with pain, and her mouth open for no
apparent reason.  Hartmann nodded almost imperceptably at the guards
holding her arms, and she felt the release her.  For a moment, she held out
the hope of an end to her torment, but it was rudely shattered by the sound
of belts being loosened and trousers being removed behind her.  "Keep it
open"!  Hartmann growled at her as she relaxed her gape, allowing her mouth
to close slightly to relieve the tension in her jaw.  As he spoke, one of
the guards, now naked moved to join him in front of her.  His penis,
already erect, jutted in front of him as he positioned himself in front of
her face.  She clamped her jaw shut, determined to resist.  Hartmanns tone
didn't change.  "Please open your mouth" "you must do as I demand"

   "Never", she hissed through gritted teeth.

   "Then so be it!".  As he spoke, she heard the hiss of the second guards
belt a split second before it struck her.  The strap laid a streak of pain
across the bottom of her shoulder blade, before the buckle slipped around
her torso to deliver a shaft of searing agony to the underside of her right
breast.  She screamed, long, and loud.  As her mouth opened her scream was
cut short by the thrust of the guards penis, straight in to the back of her
throat.  Her attempt to close her mouth was thwarted by the sheer size of
the organ between her lips, and she almost threw up as she gagged on its
length.  As she surreptitiously glanced sideways, she saw Hartmann looking
down on her with sardonic smile playing on his lips.  She had no time to
respond however, as the guard grabbed a handfull of her hair, tilted her
head back, and began to thrust in and out of her mouth.  As his penis was
withdrawn she attempted to expel it further and bite down.  A second lash
from the belt reminded her of her folly.  Her scream of pain muffled by the
guards organ was still loud enough to attract attention from elsewhere.

   The old woman cleaner hustles her younger colleague through the door. 
"Quickly girl!  Tell Gerard they have Isobel, tell him Hartmann is
interrogating her, ....  tell him to be careful, and get away!"



   Across town, Grauhof's smile widened as he remembered first his
surprise, and then his delight at the realisation that the owner was a
truly beautiful woman.  His delight had been further enhanced by her
request that he help her find a suitable editorial replacement.  He
chuckled to himself as he remembered his telephone call to the hated
Hartmann asking if he wanted to take advantage of the situation.  It was a
favour he had yet to call in.

   Now, here he was, installed in the most wonderful building, an office
the size of a football pitch, in probably the most elegant local
headquarters in the Army.  It was no surprise that General Rauenberger had
decided to bring forward his visit.  If only Madam Chambet's hospitality
had extended to catering for his more personal needs .----

   Part 4

   The corridor was dark and cold.  Even so, Gerard Gilbert was sweating,
the cold clammy sort of sweat that fear brings on.  Clutching his pistol,
he followed the faint whimperings he could hear in the distance.  He was
surprised at the lack of guards, especially since Hartmann was supposed to
be in the building.  Only the Gestapo would be arrogant enough to assume
that no rescue attempt would be made.  He was still looking for the trap
when he found himself standing outside the cell where the noise originated.
The door was slightly ajar, and a slight push opened it enough for him to
peer inside.  He almost threw up at the sight that greeted him.  A girl,
Isobel?, was tied face down over and upturned chair.  Her rump thrust into
the air, covered in blood, faeces and white sticky stuff which could only
be semen.  Both feet hung limply from the ends of her legs, both ankles
clearly smashed.

   It was all he could do to stop himself rushing into the room to comfort
her, but at the critical point his sense returned as his gaze took in the
rest of the room.  Two German troopers, clearly drunk, sat slumped in
chairs across a small table covered in playingcards.  A noise behind him
caused him to whirl around, finger tightening on the trigger as he found
himself pushing the barrel of his pistol into the chest of his old friend
Margaret the cleaner.

   Holding a finger to his lips to silence her, he gesticulated to her to
wait, and, taking his courage in both hands, dived into the small cell,
spraying bullets from his pistol as he did so.  His first two caught one of
the gaurds full in the chest killing him instantly, but the second was
quicker.  He grabbed his machine pistol and sent an arc of fire across the
room before Gerard's bullet took him between the eyes.  Gerard paused,
lying full length on the floor to get his breath back, and his wits
together.  Gathering himself, he turned to Isobel.  The guards bullets had
drawn a line of small holes across her lower back.  Choking back the tears,
he cradled his beloved sister as the life ebbed from her body.

   "He, ...He ...  He's gone to see Francoise with the General", she
whispered through the pain.  "he knows ............  about.....  you"

   Gerard stared, tears rolling silently down his cheeks as she gasped her
last, horrified at the loss of his lovely sister, his grief slowly turning
to rage as the meaning sunk in.  Francoise was in danger, she had to be
warned.

   He looked up to find Margaret staring blankly at him, and the carnage in
the room.

   "Please", he sobbed, "Look after her".  "Please make sure she gets
home."

   Part 5 Francoise was puzzled.  The phone call she had just received
worried her more for what was not said, than had been.

   "Be careful, Haartman and the General are on their way to see you. 
Gerard will get to you as soon as he can.  She was still wondering what the
message meant when she heard the roar of motor vehicles on the drive. 
Within minutes, Haartman, Grauhof, and a tall distinguished-looking officer
she didn't recognise, marched into the room.

   "Heil Hitler!" squeaked Grauhof, clearly trying, and failing, to be at
his most authoritative.  Francoise' discomfort level rose, as General
Rauenberger was introduced.

   "To what do we owe this honour?", Herr General" she asked, in as clear a
voice as she could manage.

   "I'm sorry, Madame Chambet, but I am here on official business.  It has
been brought to my attention that the local Maquis have gained access to
some very sensitive information, and the only common feature of the events
is this Chateau, and the hospitality that goes on here".

   "I do hope you're not blaming my girls, General".

   "Indeed I am, Madame, and I have no intention of allowing it to
continue."

   Desperation clutched at Francoise' breast.  Mustering as much dignity as
she could, she launched into an ill-judged display of indignance.

   "How dare you"!" I lend you my house, provide you and your troops with
all the comforts you need and this is the thanks I get?  You disgust me! 
You need me and my newspaper to keep the population under control ....  Its
me and my newspaper that hold the power .....".  She stopped!  aware that
she had gone too far.  As the General turned purple with rage, Haartman
closed the distance between himself and her, and cracked her with an open
handed slap across the cheek.  Instinctively she tried to hit him back, but
his hand caught hers in mid flight.  She stared at Haartman, the look in
his eyes was all to familiar.  She had embarrassed him in front of his
superiors, and he was livid.  For a split second, she thought he would kill
her on the spot, but then his expression softened.  He smiled, knowingly,
but it slowly degenerated into a leer.

   "Power Eh?" "I'll show you power."

   "Take off your dress!"

   "Don't be silly!"

   "I said take off your dress."

   Francoise stared him down.  "You may force me, but you will take no
pleasure from that!".

   "You are quite correct, my dear".  Francoise spun round to see the
General himself approaching her.  "It would only demonstrate power if you
offered yourself to him."

   "Cochon!" spat Francoise, mustering courage she didn't feel.  I would
never lower myself!"

   "Ah, but you misunderstand the nature of true power, my dear".  We do
not need to harm you.  You will willingly do everything asked of you if I
require it." As he spoke, he rang the service bell.  Instantly, Marcel the
family servant appeared at his elbow.

   "Yes?, herr General"

   General Rauenberger ignored him and addressed the guards on either side
of the doorway.  "Take this man and shoot him!" "Oh, and give his daughter
to the troops for the night".

   The colour drained from Francoise's face.

   "No!, Please!, you can't do that, he has done nothing, and Justine is
only 14 years old".

   "Perhaps there is something that can be done, but that rather depends on
you doesn't it".

   Ice cold shivers ran down her back as she realised whar was in store for
her.  For an instant she felt she knew how a mouse felt when caught in a
trap.  There was no way out, she would have to play for time and hope to
think of something.

   "Very well, let him go"

   General Raauenberg dismissed the servant with a slow wave of his hand
and walked slowly across to the most comfortable chair in the room. 
"Please, Gentlemen, be seated."

   Hartmann and Grauhof sat at either end of the sofa, leaving the two
guards standing by the door, and Francoise in the middle of the carpet.

   "Close the door on your way out" Rauenberg ordered the guards, "and you
madame, show us what you have to offer in exchange for your servants'
lives".

   Francoise stood, her legs shaking, wondering where to start.  She knew
what they would do to her, but she also hoped that Gerard would be along to
rescue her.  She had to make this last as long as possible before they
tired of her and killed her.  She raised her hand, and unfastened the top
button of her dress.  Haartman smiled, and gestured that he wanted more. 
Slowly, she started with the next.  Colonel Grauhof couldn't believe his
luck.  For months he had been trying to make progress with this bitch, and
now she was offering herself on a plate.  The General certainly knew how to
get what he wanted.

   Part 6

   Hartmann was getting impatient.  This teasing had to stop.

   "Get on with it, or I'll bring that old fool back in here".  He stood
up, started pacing slowly up and down, slapping his stick against his leg.

   " I think you had better do as he says", scoffed the General, "or he may
decide not to let you make your offer".

   "To hell with any offer, we all know why you are here, so get that dress
off now!" Francoise struggled quickly out of the frock, letting it fall in
a puddle at her feet.  She stood, shivering in her chemise, wishing that
she could just vanish into thin air.

   "Lets see your arse".  "Turn around".

   She did so, facing the only vacant armchair in the room.  Hartmann
walked past her, turned the chair around, and without ceremony pushed her
over it's back.  Francoise struggled to stand back upright, his hold on the
back of her neck keeping her breasts crushed against the coarse fabric.

   "Tie her hands!" instructed the General, and her struggle subsided as
thin ropes were attached from her wrists to each of the front feet of the
chair.  Although her legs were free, she could not get enough movement to
change her position, and she resigned herself to her capture.

   The General moved behind her.  His hand smoothed a path over her lower
back, down under her chemise, and into the waistband of her knickers. 
Slowly he drew them down her legs until they nestled across her knees. 
"Open your legs" he commanded".  She couldn't.  The embarrassment was too
much.  The swish of Hartmanns stick was followed by streaks of fire,
spreading from the cheek of her buttock through every nerve in her body. 
He had not held back, and when the second one landed on her other cheek,
any feeling of embarrassment was swept away on a wave of agony.  Slowly she
parted her legs, stretching he pants across her knees, presenting the most
appetising view of her rear to the old arsebandit Rauenberg.  Tears flowed
down Francoise' cheeks, more from the humiliation than the pain, but
however wide she tried to spread her legs between the restraining panties,
Hartmann was unmoved.  Blow after blow struck her tender behind, raising
bright scarlet welts across the white, previously unblemished skin.

   "Enough" I want to see her put to better use than that.  "Grauhof!  See
how well she sucks dick".  "Jawohl Herr General" Grauhof couldn't believe
his luck.  He rushed around the chair, opening his flies in a most unseemly
rush and placed himself in front of the weeping Madame Chambet.  She looked
up at him through her tears.  his little dick was only half the size of
Gerard, and she almost laughed at the thought.  Grahof kneeled on the seat
of the armchair, his dick pushing insistently at the lovely lips of Madame
Chambet.

   Hartmann called the General to one side and began a low-pitched,
animated conversation,whilst Grauhor made himself comfortable.  "Open wide,
liebschen," he muttered.  He had desperately wished for this moment, but he
was taking no pleasure from the way she was being forced to behave.  "Let
me in, don't give them an excuse to hurt you more".  Francoise could hardly
believe she heard him, his voice so low she was sure Hartmann hadn't heard.

   "Help me, please?" she crooned, working his dick into her mouth as
gently as she could.  Perhaps he could prove to be useful if she humoured
him.  She began to lick his shaft up and down, taking it full length
without effort into her mouth.  Almost immediately she heard him gasp, and
felt his muscles tense.  His orgasm was immediate, and unspectacular, just
like everything else about him, but as he recovered his composure, he
patted her head like a dog.

   "Thank you, Madame, I have waited a long time for that".  and then,
under his breath, " I will do what I can.



   Part 7 Monica Glasneck sat at her desk outside Grauhof's new office. 
She was enjoying every minute of her new assignment.  Hartmann was
incredible.  He was cold, aloof, and arrogant, but when he demanded her
attention she creamed her pants at the thought of serving him.  The sex was
spectacular, the secretarial work for Grauhof dull and undemanding.  Her
thoughts drifted off as she anticipated her next session, bent to his
demands, his prick pistoning in and out of her arse.  Her hand slipped
beneathy her skirt, searching out her sex .....  Click!!  she froze as the
press of cold steel against her temple woke her from her reverie.

   "Do exactly as I say fraulein".  "Stand up, hands on your head" "Over to
the door".

   Inside, Hartmann and Rauenberg had takn matters into their own hands. 
Ignoring Grauhofs protestations to leave francoise alone, Hartmann now sat
in the armchair, naked.  His huge penis standing stiffly from his lap. 
Francoise in front of him, her hands untied, her hair wrapped around
Rauenbergs hand dragging her towards Hartmann.  He dragged the helpless
woman up to the chair, pushed her knees apart and slid her onto Hartmanns
lap.  Francoise began to struggle, but only succeeded in centering the end
of his dick on it's intended target.  The bulbous head of his organ pushed
relentlessly at her cunt as she moaned her resistance.  She screamed as it
pushed past her clenched muscles and rammed up her vagina.

   As his thrusting increased in tempo, she began to respond.  Slowly, at
first, then with ever-increasing gusto, she began to ride his dick.  All
sense of shame left her as she began to buck up and down on his huge organ.
"God," she thought, "this man is incredible".  Her breathing began to
quicken, and soon she was clinging to him, gasping into his neck as the
waves of pleasure flooded through her.  She could not believe how
abandonded she felt.  As Hartmann slowed, to get a second breath, she
suddenly became aware of Rauenberg behind her.  At first, she thought he
was trying to get his penis into her cunt alongside Hartmann as he waggled
his somewhat lesser organ along her crack, but as his dick became slick
with her juices, she felt him move higher, and begin to push insistently at
her virgin arsehole.

   "No!, No!  she yelped, "not there".

   Rauenberg ignored her frantic wriggling to get off Hartmanns dick, and
thrust home.  Francoise screamed in agony as the pain of her stretched arse
seared through her.  It did her no good.  Rauenberg ignored her screaming
and began to rock backward and forwards, ploughing up and down her
arsehole. At the same time, Hartmann reciprocated, and as the pain began to
ease in her rear end, Francoise found herself once again overcome by lust.
As the heat built, she could feel her pulse begin to race, amd as the
thrusing got faster and faster, she finally came with a scream loud enough
to waken the dead.  Outside the door, Gerard heard her scream, and, pushing
the secretary before him, burst into the room.

   The sight which greeted Gerard was worse than he could possibly imagine.
His beautiful Francoise lay, face down on top of a naked Hartmann, whilst
Rauenberg, still clothed, but with his uniform trousers round his ankles,
was lodged firmly up the backside of the prone young editor.

   "Stand still, or I kill the girl" he yelled in horror.

   Hartmann struggled to get up, but Francoise, realising how dangerous the
situation was, kept him pinned firmly below her.  Rauenberg, however, had
no intention of doing as he was told.  He turned, realised that Gerard was
alone, and smiled.

   "Go on the", shoot her!"

   Gerard hesitated, unsure what to do.  In the moment of confusion,
Rauenberg rolled on to the floor, grabbed his pistol and fired.  The shot
ripped through Monica Glasneck, killing her stone dead.  The impact and
sudden weight of the girl caused Gerard to fall backwards as Rauenbergs
second shot whistled over his shoulder.

   "Put the gun down, General"

   Rauenberg whirled around to see the source of the instruction, preparing
to shoot as he did so.  The shot which echoed around the room, hwever, came
not from Rauenbergs gun, but that of Colonel Grauhof.  Rauenberg's look of
amazement remained on his face as the bullet hit him straight between the
eyes.

   "You will die for this!" Hartmann shouted, as fear and panic competed in
his mind.  Grauhof, however remained calm, as though in a daze.

   "You, sir, are a disgrace " he intoned, drawing a shaking Francoise off
Hartmanns torso.  "You will never exercise that sort of power again", and ,
so saying put a single bullet into his head.

   "The Gun, if you please, Drop it".  He gestured to Gerard who placed the
weapon on the ground.  Francoise struggled to her feet, and slowly began to
dress, trying to regain as much composure as she could under the threat of
certain death.  She followed Grauhof's prompting gesture, and stood close
to Gerard, both awaiting their fate.

   "Go!, both of you, before the guards come.  Hurry!"

   Francoise looked unbelievingly at Gerard not knowing what to do.

   "I can deal with this" Grauhof growled, "now get off to your rooms
before you get caught.Don't leave the building".

   Needing no second bidding, they ran for the door and headed for safety.

   Part 8 Six months later........

   Gerard and Francoise Gilbert looked down from their drawing room window
as the German column headed for the gates with unseemly haste.  Allied
troops were in the village, and it was only a matter of time before they
reached the Chateau.  The last six months had been difficult.  Grauhof had
to find an explanation for the death of such a high profile General, and
the SS had taken reprisals against the locals who had taken the blame.  On
the other hand, Grauhof began to hand over information vital to the allies
as the inevitability of defeat dawned on him.  Francoise had promised to
speak up for him if he was captured, but both of them knew that was an
unlikely outcome.

   Gerard looked down at his new wife, as the first British trucks rolled
through the gate.

   "Lets hope this occupation is less arduous than the last...........



   THE END

   The stories of James Anderton can be found at www.storiesonline.net and
on the ASSTR website.

   Copyright James Anderton 2001

   Please don't post on paid websites, and please make appropriate
attribution on free ones.  Thanks James