She shifted her position slightly to alleviate the weight on her 
shoulders, using her aching calf muscles to push herself further up onto 
her toes.  Her lithe body, naked and glistening with sweat from effort 
and the hot lights falling on her imprisoned form, trembled slightly on 
the edge of exhaustion.  She had been there, tied, standing and 
spread-eagled, under the harsh lights of a small, dingy, room, for close 
to an hour, and she didn't know how much longer she could stand it before 
she collapsed onto her arms, letting her shoulders take her weight, which 
she knew might damage her.
	Not that she really believed that she would get out of this 
alive, but there was always hope.  Just a week ago she was a messenger 
for the French resistance.  She remembered how she had, seventeen and 
sick of what the Nazi's were doing to her country, cut her long, blond 
hair short, strapped her smallish breasts to her chest, put on some 
trousers and a bulky shirt over her boyishly slender five foot frame, and 
presented herself to a friend of a friend of a friend who she knew 
"recruited" for the movement.  That he had mistaken her for a boy of 
fourteen hadn't bothered her, neither had the small tasks running 
messages from place to place; she was doing her part, small though it 
was.
	For six months she had done her job--the looks of a young boy 
only aiding the intelligence and experience of a seventeen year 
old--until, one night, delivering a message to the owners of an old, 
dilapidated restaurant, she had been captured.  She remembered the 
delight of the German soldiers, and the disappointment of the commanding 
officer, when they discovered that she was a woman; she remembered the 
repeated rapes between and during the interrogations, the pain and abuse 
she had taken sometimes stoically, sometimes screaming and pleading, for 
almost seventy two hours without letup.
	Finally they had let her sleep--she wondered that they just 
didn't kill her--and over the following few days had cleaned her up and 
tended her bruises.  She didn't know why, and she didn't care:  she was 
living day to day, and every day she continued taking breath was a good 
day.  When they told her to strip and follow them she had obeyed without 
question--that had been a little over an hour ago--and remained silent 
when the tied her, standing spread-eagled on her toes, in the center of the 
room.
	She looked over toward the door in both fear and relief when she 
heard someone at the door, her large blue eyes glistening in her petite 
face, the strain of her position showing on her face.
	"Ah, good morning young lady, and how are we today?" said sharp 
looking officer, with dark hair and eyes, of about thirty years of age. 
"Ah, I see you are not speaking today," he continued, sitting on a small 
stool before her and lightly stroking the inside of her thigh, 
occasionally brushing his hand against her exposed vagina, smiling as she 
began to tremble.  "Good, good, that gives me more time to talk, not 
having to answer your stupid questions.  I'm sure that you're wondering 
why you're here--no, don't say anything," he said, holding up his hand as 
she appeared about to speak.  "We know you're nothing more than a small 
cog in the resistance--ha!  Resistance!  How humorous.  But to continue, 
you are unimportant:  you know nothing and are nobody.  We would have had 
you shot almost immediately were it not for your obvious," and he slid a 
finger across her dry labia, "charms."
	She squirmed under the attentions of his fingers, shifting 
awkwardly from foot to foot and occasionally steadying herself with her 
arms.  An unspeakable terror grew in her as she listened to his voice:  
this was a true sadist.  He wasn't going to just rape her, like the 
others, he was going to do things to her, and she knew pain would only be 
a part of it.  She closed her eyes and held back tears, knowing that even 
if she lived through this, she would never be the same.
	"You see," he continued, dipping his hand into a bag by his side 
which she hadn't noticed before, "it's the Furher's birthday in three 
days, and I must have a present to give him."  He pulled a pair of gloves 
and a small jar from the bag and set them on his lap.  For the next 
minute there was silence as he pulled on the gloves and uncapped the jar, 
dipping his fingers into the clear, viscous liquid in the jar.  "Do not 
worry, my dear," he said as he smeared the fluid--some kind of oil--over her 
exposed labia, then pushed his fingers inside her and coated her insides 
of her vaginal wall with it, "it is only some ginger oil--diluted of 
course.  Ah, now there's a good girl," he smiled as he took a large dab 
and rubbed it all over her clitorus, making sure not to miss a spot.  He 
then reached up and gently massaged more of the oil into her breasts, 
casually playing with her nipples, which grew stiff under his attentions.
	She trembled beneath this casual cruelty, this unconscious 
assumption that her body was his to use.  The coolness of the oil brought 
goosebumps to her skin, which quickly faded as the oil began to irritate her 
flesh, bringing the warmth of her blood to the coated areas, warming her 
body.  She moaned slighty under the effect of the oil as the man sat back 
and watched her and continued to speak.
	"About six months ago I decided that my gift to him would be a 
young foreign girl, but it was not as easy as I expected.  You see, 
General *** had already begun training a young virgin Etheopian girl, 
about ten years old and very beautiful, to give to him.  She is, by this 
time I'm sure, expert in every kind of eroticism which will not endanger 
her hymen.  So a virgin was out.  Also, General --- has put together a 
performing troup, consisting of several quite attractive Jewesses, a 
small bestiary, and a few of his most sadistic soldiers.  Audience 
participation, I have heard, will be a large part of his production.  
That eliminated any of the more bloody aspects of a gift.  And, 
unfortunately, several other of the generals got together and created a 
special house for young and beautiful girls about four months ago.  They 
now have fourteen stunning girls, from ages twelve to thirty, who will 
make the Fuhrer perfect, willing sex slaves.  So, where did that leave 
me?"  He raised his arms and looke at her, smiling at her obvious discomfort.
	Why is he telling me all this, she thought, her fidgeting growing 
as her sex and her breasts began to react to the oil.  It was a slow, 
gradual buildup, a warm, spreading feeling of minute pinpricks which 
weren't really pinpricks, of itching that wasn't really itching, of a 
sensation that wasn't pain but was equally unbearable, more in fact 
because your body would never dull this feeling.  The sensations were not 
yet quite unbearable, but they were close, and although she clenched her 
jaws, she could not help but let out small moans of agony as she squirmed 
around in her bonds.
	"I decided," her tormentor continued, "to find him something 
better, something he could use over and over again and gain continuing 
pleasure from, a woman who would, against her own will, enjoy his rather 
perverse ministrations.  I have been looking for the past six months, and 
have auditioned exactly eighty two girls.  Seventy of them were 
completely unsuitable--their reactions either non-forthcoming or 
fake--and I had to discard them.  Eight of them simply went insane, and I 
had no use for them.  The other four I had hope for, but they became too 
submissive, too willing to suffer the pain, abuse and degredation in 
store for them.  I wanted a woman whose body would override her mind, who 
would hate every moment of her own pleasure in pain.  Alas, I have yet to 
find her."
	As he finished he pulled out a pair of nasty looking metal clamps 
from his case and stood up in front of her.  By this time she was 
squirming with overwhelming sensation, little moans and gasps escaping 
her lips as she squirmed in captivity.  She jerked suddenly when she felt 
his hands brush against her breasts, now fiery cold and hot and 
screamingly sensitive.
	"Such a sweet little thing," he sighed as he grabbed her breast 
firmly in hand, squeezing the flesh near the base, forcing the small bud 
of her nipple to protrude obscenely.
	A moan deep in her throat came out as she felt her breast 
squeezed like that, the blood seemingly trying to burst from the thin 
wall of the skin around her breast.  Her body became a thumping, burning 
mass centered on her left breast, and she screamed in pure agony, tears 
running down her cheeks, as she felt the metal clamp close viscously over 
her nub.  She was quivering now in her bonds, her body tight as a piano 
wire as her tormentor grabbed her other breast.  "You son of a bitch," 
she managed to choke out before another cry was torn from her lips as the 
other metal clamp found its place.  It felt like her nipples were going 
to explode, the combination of the oil and the clamps hypersensitizing 
her to her body's reactions:  it felt like her breasts had swollen to 
twice their original size, and she shut her eyes as tears ran down her 
face, her jaw clenching an unclenching in an attempt to keep from 
screaming out her agony.
	"There," she heard the officer say as he stood back and admired 
her straining body, then quickly stripped, revealing, to her dismay, a 
thick 8" cock.  She saw him, through teary eyes, lean down and rummage in 
his bag before pulling out a small tube and proceed to smear his penis 
with lubrication.
	Slowly he approached her, watching intently the way the sweat on 
her body glistened in the dull light, the way her muscles quivered in 
strain at her position, the way her legs took perfect shape in her 
bondage, the way her head slowly shook back and forth in an agony of 
sensation, the way her teeth ground together in an impressive display of 
willpower.  Beautiful, he thought as he reached out and gently touched 
her clitorus, watching with a small smile on his face as she jerked 
against her bonds, straining to escape his touch.  He began rubbing his 
fingers up and down her exposed crack, playing with the little nub that 
was her tormented pleasure center.
	"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" she moaned as he played his fingers across 
her clit, dark flashes dancing across her sight as she was almost 
overwhelmed by the sensations.  Her whole body felt like it was a single 
raw nerve which he was strumming like a lute.  Pressure began to 
build up deep in her belly as she felt her heartbeat pound through her 
nipples.  She felt him move behind her, his fingers still gently 
massaging her clit, and press his swollen member against her ass.
	"Fuckeeeeeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!" she screamed out as his cock 
bludgeoned itself into her virgin ass, surging up into her bowels until 
she felt his balls slap against her open crack.  Her ass felt stretched 
to the limit as he began slowly fucking her, spearing his cock up into 
her nether passage.  One of his hands moved from her vagina and began 
rubbing her stomach, bringing warmth to her midsection.  The other hand 
took her clit between thumb and forefinger and began gently squeezing and 
rubbing it around, sending indescribable flashes of sensation through her 
trembling body.
	She began to spit out obscenities, cursing her tormentor for all 
she was worth, as she felt the pressure in her belly increase with each 
stroke of his cock in her ass and of his fingers on her clit.  Noooooo! 
she cried out to herself, she didn't want this.  She gritted her teeth, 
her pretty face contorted into a mask of effort as she fought her coming 
orgasm, but it was no use.
	"NooooooAaaaaaaahhhhhhhhrrrrrrgggggg!" she screamed out as her 
orgasm hit her like an angry mule, driving the muscles in her stomach, 
cunt, and ass spasming in unbearable and unwanted pleasure.  She felt the 
man behind her grip her clit brutally and bring his other hand up to 
twist her tortured nipple viscously, driving her to increasing hieghts of 
orgasmic release.  She felt him give two more hard thrusts into her ass 
and then stop, and she knew his seed was filling her bowels, and she 
hated him for it.  Her whole body spasmed violently one more time before 
she fell heavily against her bonds, her sweat and come dripping down her 
legs into a small pool on the concrete floor.  She moaned in humiliation 
as the officer pulled his cock from her ass and walked in front of her.  
	Leaning close to her ear, he smiled and whispered, "French slut."