Chapter 5

The St. Pauli district lies to the west of Hamburg, on the right bank of the river. The rich bankers and industrialists of the city, being driven home in their Mercedes and Opels to the shady mansions of the expensive suburb of Blankenese, switch on the interior lights of their limousines and bury their noses in their papers as they drive through. Respectable inhabitants of the center eye tourists and newcomers warily, fearful that they may ask the way the notorious Reeperbahn, that street of sin that bisects St. Pauli. Hamburg citizens, in fact, seem slightly ashamed of their entertainment area. But the Reeperbahn is no unsavoury back-street alley. To begin with it's almost two miles long and about as wide as the Champs Elysees in Paris.

Behind the jammed car parks and service roads bordering its curving, tree fringed length, glittering lines of theaters, cinemas, clubs and restaurants tempt the reveler with money to spend. For in St. Pauli entertainment is big business--and business is as usual twenty-four hours a day, with every conceivable taste catered for. At the far end of the avenue the more sinful establishments prosper. The cinemas are blue; the clubs offer entertainments more bizarre than beautiful; the whores choke the doorways. There's a cabaret where the floor-show presents naked women wrestling in liquid mud; another that challenges its clients to ride a donkey drunk on buckets of beer; a third specializing in transvestitism and flagellation.

They used to tell a story in Hamburg about a rich American visiting a St. Pauli club, empty except for a handsome dark girl sitting at the piano.

After waiting some minutes, the American asks: "Don't I get any service around here? Where's the waiter?"

"So sorry," the girl said. "The waiter's in love with the hat-check boy, and tonight's the hat-check boy's night off."

"Well, couldn't the chef come and take my order?"

"Alas," the girl sighs, "Tuesday is the night the chef is beaten by the doorman of the club across the street."

"Well, what about the doorman here?"

"His friend is a sailor--and he's on furlough right now."

"Hell," the American says disgustedly, "doesn't anyone around here like girls?"

The lady at the piano strikes a chord.

"What do you think I come here for?" she says.

There are two streets in the strip-club area called the Grosse Freiheit and the Kleine Freiheit--the Greater and the Lesser Freedom--where once the whores sat in shop windows waiting to be hired. But the shutters are permanently closed now and the bust-and-belly business has taken over. Instead, a block away, rises the multi-story steel and concrete Eros Center--the only apartment block in the world inhabited exclusively by prostitutes, who promenade in its central courtyard hoping to attract clients to their king-sized beds above. Beside the police station is the Zillertal--a huge, gaudy restaurant noisily featuring those three B's--beer, brass-bands and belching--that represent Bavaria's contribution to the humor of the world. And across the road from the Zillertal is the sole remaining example of the "little streets" of St. Pauli--the Herbertstrasse.

Barred off at each end with urinal-like steel partitions carrying huge warnings forbidding entry to minors, the Herbertstrasse is only just over a hundred yards long. The bulbs in the street lamps are pink. An old man plays a sentimental tune on an accordion in one corner. And along the broad cobbled precinct, in the shadows of the one cul-de-sac that leads off it, a constant flow of men--a surprising number with a wife or girl on one arm--promenade the thirty-odd brothels whose madams rent the three-story houses on the street. In the wide ground-floor picture-windows sit the girls... fat girls, thin girls, black girls, white girls, big-breasted jolly girls in décolleté nightgowns, severe girls in corsets with whips tucked into their boots, girls in leather, girls in rubber, girls in fishnet tights and girls in skin-hugging wool catsuits.

Whatever your fetish, whatever your fantasy, you have only to knock on the window and ask. The Herbertstrasse (theme tune: I Can Give You Anything But Love, Baby) can cope. And it was to the Herbertstrasse, two miles from the center with the precise verticals of its buildings bordering the lakeside lawns of the Alster, that Susan Templar was brought shortly after Lisa and her companions had received their telephone call from the mysterious Elsa.

Shivering with apprehension, her arms tightly held by Heinz and Klaus, the kidnapped girl followed the sadistic blonde along the rain-wet street and across the crowded, traffic-jammed width of the Reeperbahn. Because it was the season of Fasching, there was a special Bavarian night at the Zillertal and the sidewalks were reeling with drunken, perspiring southerners, red-faced and paunchy, some of them in costume and many wearing domino masks. Through this walpurgisnacht of shrill laughter, bawdy pleasantries and beery breath, the frightened teenager was hustled, past the barriers, past the men with calculating eyes, into the rose-red street--which tonight wore a festive, almost a family air of relaxation. They hurried to the door of one of the houses in the cul-de-sac. The picture windows were brightly lit but there were no girls sitting on display behind them. Lisa's knock was answered at once by a tall, big-breasted woman.

She nodded to the blonde German girl and said briefly: "Upstairs. Number six on the second floor."

"Thanks, Elsa," Lisa said.

Beckoning to her companions and their captive, she began to climb a narrow staircase at the back of the hallway.

"Isn't Stefan here?" Klaus asked as they mounted behind her.

Lisa shook her head. "He went to collect the green Volks. Heinrich brought it up from Siegsdorff today. We're going to meet at his studio later in Oldenburg. But Stefan should be here in a few minutes."

"I hope so," Heinz said. "Because we're going to need him for-"

"Don't worry," the blonde cut in. "It's all taken care of."

They led Susan into a small room stuffy with central heating. There was a low divan covered with black satin against one wall. Two chairs, an old-fashioned wardrobe, a washbasin and bidet behind a screen, and several large mirrors completed the furnishings. A table lamp with a red bulb was the only illumination. Lisa opened the wardrobe and took out a black leather corset with trailing laces, a pair of high-heeled knee boots, and a black papier-m"ché face mask with elastic ear- pieces.

"Put these on," she ordered.

Susan's face was a study in bewilderment. "But I don't understand," she began tearfully.

"How many times do I have to tell you--you don't have to understand!" the blonde snapped. "Take off your clothes and put those on!"

Repressing a sob, the voluptuous young brunette reluctantly undressed and drew on the black boots. When they were tight enough for Lisa's satisfaction, she stood helplessly in the hot room, her softly curved body gleaming whitely in the seductive light, while they laced her into the form-fitting waist corsette. Finally, Lisa handed her the mask.

"Why do I have to... ?" Susan faltered.

"Will you do what you're told! All you have to do it follow our instructions. I've explained already: there's a certain client of this establishment we wish to compromise. All you need to know is that! You're dressed like this, and you're to wear that mask, because it's the season of Fasching... it's the custom to dress up in the south, and they follow it here during this week as a sop to their clients from that part of the country."

"But why me? Why must I... ?"

"Because the client likes a new girl each time he comes and you happen to be the type he likes. If you do what you're told, you can buy your way out of this--pay your ransom if you like--and we'll let you go. If not..."

The blonde nodded towards Heinz. The lean-faced youth had taken a wicked-looking, short-barreled revolver from his pocket. Susan gasped with fright as he broke the gun, spun the cylinder, and inserted six cartridges into the chambers.

"I'll be right here," he said menacingly, going to the wall and tapping a moulding above one of the mirrors.

They took the trembling girl into the adjoining room and showed her how there was a spy hole commanding the whole of the room they had just left.

"The gun'll be pointing through this gap," Heinz said bleakly, opening the shutter concealing the hole. "I'll be standing here the whole time, watching. And if you take one wrong step--if you breathe a word to the client--there's a slug for each of you! We won't hesitate to kill him too."

Lisa held up a hand for silence. Outside in the passageway, there was the sound of footsteps, a man's voice, a laugh from Elsa, the soft closing of a door.

"Right--you know what you have to do," the blonde whispered. "You go on in there and you do exactly what the man says. Exactly. If you do it right, we'll let you go. If not..."

She left the sentence unfinished and again jerked her head at Heinz, drawing a hand across her throat in a gruesome gesture. Heinz stuck an unlit cigarette between his lips and nodded towards the door.

"Away you go!" he said.

They took the bewildered teenager back into the corridor, opened the door of the room they had first been in, and pushed her inside. The door closed softly behind her. She stood shuddering with anticipation. There was a pile of clothes on one of the chairs now and a naked man bending over them. He was tall, lean and muscular, with a down of dark hairs tracing the course of his spine. Beyond the taut curve of his hip, she could see the rigid staff of his penis jutting from the vee of wiry pubic hair at his loins like a thick quivering arrow. The bulbous, purple head was already emerging from the foreskin. As he heard the girl enter he swung round to face her and Susan repressed a gasp of petrified amazement.

The man whose whims she was there to serve was her own father! She was aghast, stunned, speechless with horror. Behind the mask, which covered her face from brow to upper lip, she blanched. What in God's name was he doing here? Did they know? Had he recognized her? The last question was answered at once, for he moved towards her, his rigidly erect cock wagging from side to side above the sperm-bloated pouch of his testicles, with a lustful expression on his face that she had never seen before.

"Very nice!" he said caressingly, reaching out his hand to cup the full globe of one breast as it swelled seductively above the leather corset. "Elsa always did know just what I wanted!"

Susan recoiled away from his familiar touch with a shudder of disgust. This mustn't happen, she thought wildly. It mustn't! But how could she possibly stop it, knowing that Heinz and his gun were so near? Her heart thudding in her chest, she sat weakly on the divan. Feasting his eyes lustfully on the triangle of silky hair at her loins, Colonel Templar took his penis in one hand and began skimming the loose skin rapidly up and down the throbbing shaft.

"Come on then," he said hoarsely. "You know what to do. Let's get down to it, baby."

Behind her disguise, the girl stared at him piteously.

"G-g-g-get down to it?" she repeated in a quavering voice.

What on earth was she supposed to do? What sexual technique was she supposed to know?

"Get your legs up on the bed and roll over on your tits," Templar commanded harshly.

"W-w-what do you mean?"

Through the slitted eye-holes of the mask, his daughter stared up at him in blank incomprehension.

"Do as I say. Didn't Elsa tell you, for God's sakes? I like coming in the back way."

"The b-b-back way? Oh, no!" Susan whimpered as the full realization of the indecent ravishment he was proposing burst on her mind. "Not that, please! You... you can't do it to me there! You can't..."

Her father chuckled. "I knew Elsa wouldn't let me down!" he said. "I go for a bit of play-acting. It turns me on when you girls play the innocent like that!"

Bending down, he seized her legs and yanked them roughly up and over the bed, at the same time twisting her violently so that she was flung face downwards on the mattress. Then, as she sobbed helplessly into the pillow, he leaped and kneeled between her widespread naked thighs, forcing them ruthlessly apart with his knees.

The frightened teenager's mind was a chaos of conflicting emotions. She was sickened first of all by the thought of her own father visiting a whore-house; and the knowledge that he was an old client, coupled with the realization of the horrible, obscene and unnatural thing he wanted to do, upset her more than ever. Why, he was no better than her mother, amusing herself with the local Burgomaster when the Colonel was away! But worst of all, of course, was the fact that he was unsuspectingly about to sodomize his own daughter! How could she possibly allow him to do such a thing? It would bring him down to the level of Lisa and her vile gang of ravishers! It would destroy forever the whole secure domestic foundation on which her young life was based! Yet how could she possibly stop him? The only conceivable way would be to reveal her true identity... and the spine-chilling thought of the sadistic Heinz and his gun ruled that out from the start.

The fanatic German youth would not hesitate to shoot if he thought their plans--whatever they were--were in danger of being thwarted! And even were she not terrified for her own life, the thought that she would automatically sign her father's death- warrant as well was enough to scotch the idea. No, she would have to go through with it whatever the anguish it might bring! She would have to sacrifice herself for her father's sake! Her mind seething with doubts, she clenched her teeth and gripped the pillow until her slender knuckles showed white. Colonel Templar's muscular thighs were relentlessly spreading her legs, clad in the black boots which came just above her knees.

"Reach behind you, baby, and spread the cheeks of your ass," he rasped.

"I can't!" Susan squealed despite her resolutions. "You can't do this to me, please! Couldn't you do it some other way? Please, please-"

She broke off with a gasp of pain as he brought his open hand cracking down viciously across her naked buttocks, leaving the red weals of finger marks flaming on the trembling white flesh below the leather corset.

"Do what you're told, you little bitch," her unsuspecting father growled. "You're being paid, aren't you?"

Her chest racked with deep tearing sobs, the masked brunette moved her quivering hands over the rounded globes and reluctantly dragged them apart, exposing the tiny puckered hole of her anus nestling in its hairless furrow. She still couldn't believe that any man would do such a bestial thing to her! And as for suffering it at the hands of her own father--it was monstrous! It was the ultimate depth of degradation! It was really too much for her young mind to bear! Perhaps, she thought desperately, it was a whim of her father's. Perhaps he liked to make his women crawl and plead with him before he made love to them more normally. Surely it must be simply a ploy to intimidate her! It couldn't be true that he wanted to take her... to take anybody there! But her father's outstretched middle finger was poking at the wrinkled hole centered in her hot and sweating crevice. She jerked involuntarily at the sudden pain.

"Relax!" he hissed threateningly. "And keep those ass- cheeks spread!"

Susan felt the tip of his finger again at the entrance to her defenseless rectum, and she frantically clenched the tiny ring tight in an attempt to delay the brutal penetration she knew must be coming. Templar probed for a moment at the outer edges of the tiny elastic circle and then, with a grunt of satisfaction, he shoved his finger into the warm velvety passage. The disguised girl gasped aloud. Moans of protest forced their way through her clenched teeth as he drilled deeper and deeper, expanding the tightness of her rectum until she thought she must faint from the pain and shame of the cruel invasion.

He began to move the finger around in the clinging, rubbery opening, sawing it in and out to stretch the tiny anus in preparation for the greater entry to follow. A flicker of surprise, almost of pleasure, passed suddenly over his daughter's face. The pain was gradually fading and a sensation was taking its place that was very close to enjoyment! She couldn't believe that it could feel so good--but it did, sending wild thrills of perverse pleasure rocketing through her loins. Her mouth opened and she began to pant and mewl in perverse delight as the Colonel's finger worked around and around deep in her wide- stretched rectum!

Then abruptly she remembered who and what she was--she was actually taking pleasure from a sexual assault on her by her own unknowing father! How could she possibly justify such a debased and obscene emotion? A hot flush of shame washed over her and she bit her lips to stifle the groan of near-ecstasy that was trembling in her throat. As suddenly as he had forced the finger in, Colonel Templar dragged it out again... and the black corseted kneeling girl became aware with a shudder of humiliation that her inner thighs above her boots were wet from her pleasuring young cunt. Despite the anguished turmoil in her mind, her body was responding to his touch and moisture was already flooding the interfolded flesh at the entrance to her quivering cunt as her vaginal secretions flowed in excited readiness.

Thrusting his hand between his daughter's belly and the mattress, the Colonel stroked his fingers back along the moistly sliding length of her vaginal furrow and smeared the fluid up and around her plundered little anus to lubricate the opening. An instant later she felt, with a tremor of alarm, the hot rubbery tip of his throbbing penis pressing against her tightly puckered anal opening. Oh God, this was intolerable! Her own father... !

Susan held her breath as she felt it begin to thrust. Oh God, it was huge! She would never be able to take it in her rectum without her belly being torn apart! The muscles on Colonel Templar's lean stomach stood out as he strained forward, and the anguished girl felt the soft probing between her buttocks grow into a hard, irresistible pressure against the tight elastic ring of her anus.