Read Online Slaves of the Swastika by Kenneth Harding - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kenneth Harding
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mammary flesh.
And once again, as he had predicted, Helga Nordheim's naked and sweating body arched up and then flattened with a moist impact as she fell back shrieking on the bench of ordeal. He straightened, pocketed the tweezers for the moment. “Well, I think you boys have earned a little reward,” he said jocularly. “I'll leave it to you to decide who shall go first with this Hure. But you'd best tie her down first. Take the lengths of cord out of the drawer at the side of this desk, boys, and fix her down tightly so she'll be able to concentrate on what you're going to do to her. Maybe it will refresh her memory, because I think she's really itching inside to get fucked.”
The two Nazi privates joyously saluted their commanding officer and left Helga Nordheim weeping and abandoned, sprawled on the torture table. In a few moments, the poor woman found her wrists tied tightly to the front legs of the table, and her ankles corded and made fast in turn to the back legs. She was straddled a full yard, and the pink, slightly inflamed labia of her now shorn cunt gaped, libidinously.
The two privates conferred among themselves, and there was an argument in a low angry voice from Willi Murtens. He believed that he had the right to go first with this Dime. The Oberst laughingly intervened: “Now then, boys, I'm sure it's very flattering for dear little Helga there to hear you squabble over who is going to fuck her first. She never knew she had so many admirers until today, isn't that right, my dear lady? But in the interest of time, since I do have a little more work to do with her, I suggest you allow me to nominate the order in which you two gentlemen will amuse her. Let's see now. Manfred, I think you shall go first this time.”
On Willi Murtens' surly face, there appeared a glowering look of disgusted envy as he watched his tall angular companion unbuckle his belt, slip down his uniformed trousers, and then, without bothering to take them or his boots off, hoist himself onto the table and fling himself down atop the straddled, spread-eagled, naked flaxen-haired matron.
“Oh God no-oh don't-oh Kurt, Kurt, help me-oh I want you, Kurt!” Helga shrieked as she tried to jerk at her wrists and to twist her body away. Her yawning thighs made strenuous efforts to clench as she felt the obdurate, hot, swollen ramrod of her ravisher prod against her inner thighs. And then, she shrieked aloud in torment as the plumheaded tip of his meatus rudely pried the Lips of her vulva apart and entered her. With a grunt, Manfred Strobel thrust himself forward up to his hairs, and Helga's head flung back, her eyes rolling in their sockets, her teeth gnashing at the pain. The depilation had rendered the entry of her quim so exquisitely sensitive that the slightest touch was agony itself. And his brutal penetration gave her no joy whatsoever. Willi Murtens, panting with lust, leaned over the table to watch his colleague service the bitch. His own prick was almost bursting through the fly of his trousers, and the Oberst chuckled thickly as he observed this understandable phenomenon. “Wait, Willi,” he paternally advised, “Manfred will warm her up for you, and then you can make her gush! And once she's relaxed with a good fucking and her climax, I'm sure it will work wonders on her memory. She'll want more, don't you see, and so she'll be cooperative with us at last. Give it to her hard, Manfred, don't spare her! Remember, she's a traitress who may possibly kneel down and bow her head to the axe some cold morning in the courtyard of the Direktor General-Platt!”
Manfred Strobel needed no second invitation. His hips were jerking now as he ruthlessly pillaged the sobbing, moaning naked captive beneath him. His hands had reached out to cup and knead her panting titties. Contrary to the jesting declamation of his Oberst, he didn't find the marks on this bitch's body the least bit distressing. On the contrary, they seemed to augment his
And once again, as he had predicted, Helga Nordheim's naked and sweating body arched up and then flattened with a moist impact as she fell back shrieking on the bench of ordeal. He straightened, pocketed the tweezers for the moment. “Well, I think you boys have earned a little reward,” he said jocularly. “I'll leave it to you to decide who shall go first with this Hure. But you'd best tie her down first. Take the lengths of cord out of the drawer at the side of this desk, boys, and fix her down tightly so she'll be able to concentrate on what you're going to do to her. Maybe it will refresh her memory, because I think she's really itching inside to get fucked.”
The two Nazi privates joyously saluted their commanding officer and left Helga Nordheim weeping and abandoned, sprawled on the torture table. In a few moments, the poor woman found her wrists tied tightly to the front legs of the table, and her ankles corded and made fast in turn to the back legs. She was straddled a full yard, and the pink, slightly inflamed labia of her now shorn cunt gaped, libidinously.
The two privates conferred among themselves, and there was an argument in a low angry voice from Willi Murtens. He believed that he had the right to go first with this Dime. The Oberst laughingly intervened: “Now then, boys, I'm sure it's very flattering for dear little Helga there to hear you squabble over who is going to fuck her first. She never knew she had so many admirers until today, isn't that right, my dear lady? But in the interest of time, since I do have a little more work to do with her, I suggest you allow me to nominate the order in which you two gentlemen will amuse her. Let's see now. Manfred, I think you shall go first this time.”
On Willi Murtens' surly face, there appeared a glowering look of disgusted envy as he watched his tall angular companion unbuckle his belt, slip down his uniformed trousers, and then, without bothering to take them or his boots off, hoist himself onto the table and fling himself down atop the straddled, spread-eagled, naked flaxen-haired matron.
“Oh God no-oh don't-oh Kurt, Kurt, help me-oh I want you, Kurt!” Helga shrieked as she tried to jerk at her wrists and to twist her body away. Her yawning thighs made strenuous efforts to clench as she felt the obdurate, hot, swollen ramrod of her ravisher prod against her inner thighs. And then, she shrieked aloud in torment as the plumheaded tip of his meatus rudely pried the Lips of her vulva apart and entered her. With a grunt, Manfred Strobel thrust himself forward up to his hairs, and Helga's head flung back, her eyes rolling in their sockets, her teeth gnashing at the pain. The depilation had rendered the entry of her quim so exquisitely sensitive that the slightest touch was agony itself. And his brutal penetration gave her no joy whatsoever. Willi Murtens, panting with lust, leaned over the table to watch his colleague service the bitch. His own prick was almost bursting through the fly of his trousers, and the Oberst chuckled thickly as he observed this understandable phenomenon. “Wait, Willi,” he paternally advised, “Manfred will warm her up for you, and then you can make her gush! And once she's relaxed with a good fucking and her climax, I'm sure it will work wonders on her memory. She'll want more, don't you see, and so she'll be cooperative with us at last. Give it to her hard, Manfred, don't spare her! Remember, she's a traitress who may possibly kneel down and bow her head to the axe some cold morning in the courtyard of the Direktor General-Platt!”
Manfred Strobel needed no second invitation. His hips were jerking now as he ruthlessly pillaged the sobbing, moaning naked captive beneath him. His hands had reached out to cup and knead her panting titties. Contrary to the jesting declamation of his Oberst, he didn't find the marks on this bitch's body the least bit distressing. On the contrary, they seemed to augment his
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