This story is actually part II of III. The prologue (I) has been written, but I’m not sure I want to post it. Part III has been mostly written. When it’s finished it’ll be added to this site. Each story stands alone, and represents an escalation,  - an evolution, if you will - of the German officer’s tastes. Once again, this is MY fantasy, sick though it may be. No offense is intended to perfectly sane, normal Germans, or to Jewish people (I’m one).

 

 The Deal

 

Germany, 1941

 

The guards snapped to rigid attention as the motorcade paraded into camp. Rumors buzzed through the lines. Was he here to recruit new officers to conduct interrogations? Or to arrest some traitorous soldier? Had he discovered a conspiracy? Men of his stature simply did not come to the work camps. Their questions were answered as all the women were collected from their various work details and inspected. He had the younger, pretty ones herded into a coarse shack. The tall, immaculate intelligence officer stalked though the room, examining them like items up for auction. He chose one, a luminous Jewish girl with a supple figure and docile, frightened eyes. She had been there three months.

            He cleared his throat formally. “I find myself in need of, ah, an assistant. You may stay here, and work until you die of starvation. Or you may come back with me, and sleep in a feather bed, and eat fine meals. It will not be…” he stroked her soft cheek with a gloved hand, “…unpleasant.” She bent her head under his touch.

 

            Arriving at headquarters, he showed her his suite. It was lavishly appointed with beautiful hand-painted furniture, no doubt stolen from rich Jewish homes. The china and glassware looked Czechoslovakian. Heavy velvet curtains were tied back to reveal large windows overlooking a landscaped courtyard. Flowering bushes and beds of colorful blossoms formed regimented pathways. There were two trees, and the sounds of a warbling bird could be heard through the open glass. The garden’s idyllic nature was interrupted by a large gallows, clearly visible from the prison cells on the far side of the square. “Motivation,” he indicated, clearly relishing the word. He took off his greatcoat, boots clicking as he crossed the floor. “Go clean yourself, fraulein,” he ordered, peering at a carved clock, “There isn’t much time.” He indicated the bath chamber, dismissing her.

            She couldn’t help luxuriating in the first warm water she’d felt in … how long? Even the soap was perfumed. She dried herself quickly with a lush cotton towel, and put on the dress hanging on the door. It was slightly too big until she tightened the bodice laces. The silver comb sank through her hair. She pinned up her curls and stepped back into the main room. He rose from his desk, automatically turning over the papers he’d been working on. She blushed under his scrutiny, but the officer seemed satisfied with his choice.

            He snatched up the chair and carried it to the bay windows, pushing her along with a hand on the back of her neck. He sat down and indicated that she should rest on his lap. “In just a few minutes you shall see the girl who was in your place.” As he explained, he pulled her pins out, running his fingers through her damp, dark hair. He admired the way it fell in thick waves. She would look better once he got some makeup that suited her coloring, and dressed her properly, he thought. He was beginning to trace the swell of her breasts when a door opened on the prison side of the courtyard. “Ah, there she is.”

            A pair of soldiers stepped into the sunlight, dragging a girl between them. She had a black eye and a split lip. There was a smear of blood on her simple cotton shift. The officer shook his head regretfully, and whispered to the girl on his knee. “She tried to run from me, you understand?” Below them, the condemned woman was climbing the scaffold stair with leaden feet. The swinging noose, waiting for her, swayed in the summer breeze. “You will be a good girl, yes? Not like her?”

            He placed her hand firmly on his crotch. She could feel his cock lengthening inside his uniform pants. “You take care of me, and I will take care of you, fraulein.” He unbuckled his belt to free his growing hunger. His fingertips slid up her thighs, under her skirt to the moist patch of fur hiding there. Through all of his stroking attentions, she remained still, passive. He repositioned her to straddle him, impaling her with his fully engorged rod. She turned her face so she wouldn’t see the executioner drop the noose over the other girl’s hooded head.

            “Forgive me, my darling. Of course this is not a sight for your delicate eyes.” He continued to stare down into the courtyard. She rocked wildly on him, trying not to hear the barked orders, the bang of the trap door, and the sickening crunch of the girl’s neck.

 

 

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