WARNING: This story is an act of fiction that contains graphic sexual descriptions and language. If you are a minor (under 21) or if you are offended by this kind of material then you should stop reading now. Any resemblance between this story and a real event is coincidental. The participants are imaginary; their actions have no negative consequences other than those portrayed in the story. The story is intended for entertainment and should not be emulated in the real world.
GESTAPO SS-LIEUTENANT Hans Von Yurt stood at ramrod stiff attention before the desk of his Commandant, SS-Oberf ührer Otto Stemp and watched and listened as the man ranted and raved, banging his fist on the desk for emphasis. He had rarely seen the man this angry.
So far, SS-Lieutenant Von Yurt had no idea why the man was yelling at him about some traitorous woman who had sided with the Jews. The SS-Oberf ührer soon corrected that lack of his knowledge in the conversation.
"THE TRAITOR IS YOUR WIFE GRETA, VON YURT. YOUR WIFE!" Hans eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn't believe his ears. True, Greta had said some mild things against the Nazi party, to his dismay and consternation, but traitor? Impossible! She was a loyal German. As loyal as Der F ührer, himself. She just had a funny way of showing it sometimes.
"Mein Oberf ührer, I don't believe... "
"SHUT UP, VON YURT! There is no denying it, She is the one I am referring to. She is the one who has used her raggedy and pitiful little weekly newsletter to blast the party's treatment, or I should say mistreatment, of the Jews. She's the one, your Greta, who has created great dissension and discord among the working classes." He paused.
"WELL, NO MORE, VON YURT!" He banged his fist hard on the desk top. "You, SS-Gestapo Lieutenant Von Yurt, are going to personally arrest that little bitch wife of yours and bring her to me. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Von Yurt?"
"Y-Yes, mein Oberf ührer, perfectly clear, sir! Hans stiffened his body and clicked his heels together. He knew better than to say anything else, especially any of the argumentative rebuttal thoughts he now harbored. The man before him was obviously in no mood for a debate.
"Good! Now, go retrieve her, Von Yurt, and deliver her to me, in less than one hour, in my private quarters." The Commandant looked down at his wrist watch. "I want to personally teach the traitorous little cunt some lessons in following party doctrine when it comes to mass media." He smiled at the Lieutenant.
Lieutenant Von Yurt cringed, but saluted smartly, pivoted and headed toward the door. He knew the fate awaiting his beautiful wife of less than five years, but also knew there was nothing he, or anyone else for that matter, could do about it. Their fate was sealed. It was now, he knew, up to Greta as to just how horrible that fate would, or could get.
A short while later, Hans and Greta Von Yurt were in the back seat of a large, black unmarked SS-Gestapo car headed for the Commandant's quarters. Two regular army soldiers sat in front and, one of them, the driver, was humming a tune. It sounded out of place, given the circumstances, but at the same time it sounded normal. A thing a driver would do to pass the time.
Hans hadn't yet told Greta the reason for the trip, but he suspected she knew something wrong was afoot. He had merely told her that the commandant wanted to chat with her and she was not to worry, purposely playing it down so as not to fret her prematurely. Her worry and fret would come soon enough, he well knew.
"Hans," Greta said. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?" He nodded, not turning to her, but still staring out the rear window on his side. "It's because of those things I wrote, isn't it?" He nodded again, still staring at the scenery going past. She pumped him further.
"How bad is it, Hans?" She sounded fearful, so he turned to face her. He looked very worried. Childlike in his worry. He took her right hand into both of his and squeezed. He could sense her fear. He had that fear in himself.
"Very bad, I'm afraid, my liebschen. The Commandant has labeled you a traitor..." He let the words just hang there, waiting for her response.
"Traitor? That's nonsense, Hans, I'm a loyal party woman, you know that. So, I played Devil's advocate with my odd views, but... "
Hans shushed her. "Liebschen, we don't have much time. We must talk before we get to the Commandant's quarters."
Hans leaned over and said something to the driver. It was said too low for Greta to hear, but a moment later she heard the man say, "Ya, Lieutenant!" and pull the car over to the curb and kill the engine. The two regular army soldiers then left the car, slamming doors behind them. Hans turned to her.
"Hans, I... "
"Greta, my liebschen, please, we don't have much time, so listen to me and listen very carefully. I am helpless in his matter and cannot do a thing to help you." He squeezed her hand. "I could shoot the two men with us, but that wouldn't save us, or you. We'd never even make it to the border or, even if by some incredible miracle we did, we'd never get through without a border pass.
"They would arrest us and kill us, after putting the two of us through holy hell." He squeezed her hand again. "Remember Anna?" He knew she did. She nodded silently. Poor Anna, she thought. Anna had also been called to have a little chat with the Commandant. She was now hospitalized and in a mostly vegetative state. Her mind had snapped.
Before her mind had gone, she had told Greta most of the horrid details. What she told Greta had seemed incredible in this day and age. Impossible, even.
Anna had fought the Commandant wildly, even going so far as to bite his penis when he had attempted to put it into her mouth. He had beaten her severely and told her he would kill her entire family if she didn't cooperate.
She cooperated, as best she could, but that still wasn't enough for him. He meant to teach her a good lesson. After raping her night and day for a week, he had turned her over to what he called the barrack's boys, 160 of his regular army soldiers. They had used her night and day, every day, without any mercy, for eight months. Anna didn't go into great detail, but she did say it was the most horrible thing imaginable, and beyond.
Anna did mention being tied to an army cot, night and day, while a long line of soldiers waited outside the door for their turn at her. And Anna's crime? She had called an SS-Gestapo officer a pig after he had pinched her behind in the restaurant where she waitressed. But how was she to know he was Schutzst äffel? The dreaded SS. The man was in plain clothes.
Anna's ordeal might have gone on until they tired of her or she died, but Anna got pregnant. Most of the men wanted to kill her then and there, but the barrack's boss, a kindly Corporal F ürst, took pity on her and sent her home to have the baby. Upon her leaving, F ürst had told her to go and have a healthy, German soldier boy.
Anna wasn't home three days when she miscarried and lost the baby. Whether this fact contributed to Anna's deterioration or not will never be known, but Anna collapsed soon after and lost all sense of reality. She now spent her days in a home for the mentally insane.
But that was then and this is now.
"Well," Hans was saying. "Anna had no idea what fate was waiting for her when she fought the commandant. How could she? But, you, my liebschen, are a step ahead of it all. That could save you from a very terrible time of it." Greta thought about the barrack's boys. Hans knew what she was thinking. He spoke again, still very rapidly.
"Yes, that would be terrible. Terrible. But you can prevent that from happening to you. By not being you, the strong-willed woman, the woman who takes no crap from anyone... including me." He chuckled softly. It sounded to Greta like a gallows chuckle. She tried to chuckle, too, but found she couldn't. Her throat was too dry.
"Liebschen," he continued, talking rapidly. "While it kills me inside to say this, you must humor the man and do everything he tells you to do, sexual and otherwise. It's the only way, believe me. I've seen and heard this man in action. He's a beast, a depraved beast. He enjoys telling stories of how he made the woman fight back, on purpose, by having her do things she found truly repulsive and the joy and exhilaration he felt in turning her over to his wretched henchmen.
"At all costs, you must not fight him. It will only play into his hands. If there is any hope of you coming out of this, my liebschen, and being spared Anna's fate, this is it. Use any ability you have within you to play-act, pretend you like it even, but just don't get the man angry. Do you understand, my liebschen?" She nodded meekly. God, she thought, oh, God. What is to become of me? Of us? Hans had said something more, again rapidly.
"... will insist on oral and intercourse, undoubtedly, but he will also make you perform anal sex. I know, I know. This is something you absolutely detest and I understand, my love, but he will give you no choice in the matter. It's do it or suffer Anna's consequences." He looked at her, great fear and love showing in his pool blue eyes. And tears. "And, as I well know from listening to his many ugly stories, his men will use you that way anyway, so please, liebschen, keep that in mind." He had more tears in his eyes. He's trapped, she thought, just like I am, but I must now be the strong one. If we are to survive at all.
One of the soldiers tapped on the rear car window and said, " One more minute, Lieutenant, sir." Hans turned to her.
.... There is more of this story ...