tagMind ControlBehind Enemy Lines Ch. 01

Behind Enemy Lines Ch. 01

bydeliciousthoughts©

A big thank you to the wonderful RamonaE for allowing me to borrow her idea. And grateful thanks to the fabulous Ella for adding so much value way beyond her editing skills.

CHAPTER ONE: Alice is given a mission behind enemy lines

The office was well appointed, almost regal with its styling, and certainly better than many of the other merely functional rooms used by the usual senior senior ranks at the War Office. The smartly attired Head of MI6 sat on the leather Chesterfield sofa, opposite the beautiful young agent, providing her with details of the mission they were about to entrust her with.

The twenty-three year old Alice was fresh from University where she had been head hunted by the Agency's recruiters. They had spotted her potential some time before she graduated with a first in German. With her nubile body and long flowing blonde hair, she already could have been mistaken as Aryan herself. Nothing was further from the truth. Yes, her Aryan looks would certainly be an advantage behind enemy lines, but it was her hard work and intelligence that had gained her the respect of the men that recruited her.

"As you know, Alice," the MI6 head was saying in that gruff tone of his, "A few weeks ago we lost contact with James Carruthers, one of our very best field agents. He was investigating a secret research centre somewhere in Baden-Württemberg. That's a state in the southwestern part of Germany, to the east of the Upper Rhine. The last information we had connected him and the research centre to the town of Freiburg."

He tapped the manila file on his knee, indicating that more detailed information would be available to her in the file.

"It would be the perfect location for the German's research work," he continued, pulling on both curled edges of his moustache. "Freiburg is bordered by the Black Forest Mountains, Rosskopf and Bromberg to the east, Schönberg and Tuniberg to the south, with the Kaiserstuhl hill region to the west. Penetrating that sort of terrain is notoriously difficult."

"What exactly was it he was investigating?" Alice asked, staring intently into his tired eyes.

"That we don't know..."

Carruthers was aware of the facilities existence, but unsure as to its purpose.

"But preliminary reports from Carruthers indicated he believed the German's are developing something there that could change the course of the war."

Alice nodded solemnly. No wonder she'd been pulled into the War Office headquarters at such short notice. The implications of her mission were becoming clearer by the second.

"Do you think he's still alive?"

It was an awkward question, but one that had to be asked. She needed to know if she was being told everything. Upper intelligence had a habit of hanging back on certain parts of their Intel unless a direct question was asked by an operative.

"We just don't know," he replied after a short pause, then gave an almost imperceptible sigh. "But if the Gestapo have him then the chances are he would be better off that way."

Alice shivered at the mention of the German secret service. She understood exactly what a mission involving the Gestapo might involve. She was well aware exactly what they were capable of—some of her closest friends had perished or completely disappeared at their hands during past assignments and she wouldn't be going into this mission without a full understanding of the possible consequences.

"Security in the area itself is strict ... German nationals only, in short, no easy way in. The woman in control of the area is one Obersturmfuhrer Helga Bachmeier. What we know about her is that she is one hell of a hard bitch that was personally placed there by Hitler himself."

Alice let out a low hiss under her breath. She'd heard of Bachmeier. The Obersturmfuhrer was an out and out dyke who was rumoured to have a huge sexual appetite, especially as far as attractive young girls were concerned. She shivered in her seat at the thought of possibly coming face to face with Herr Bachmeier.

"Do you want me to try and find Carruthers?" she asked. "And get him out of there if I do?"

The Colonel hesitated before answering but his silence was enough. Carruthers was expendable.

What was of more importance was that Alice picked up where he had left off and found out exactly what this research facility was looking into and the possible consequences of their research.

"I want you to take his place," The Head said, pulling on his moustache again as he confirmed exactly what Alice had suspected. "The mission remains the same. Find out what the bastards are up to. The outcome of the war could depend on it. If you happen to find Carruthers and can rescue him, then all the better. But nothing must compromise this mission. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," she answered. Crystal clear.

"Good. You leave this evening."

THAT NIGHT

The Westland Lysander was a British army co-operation and liaison aircraft with an exceptional short-field performance that aided clandestine missions such as this. Its ability to place or recover agents behind enemy lines was unparalleled.

It dropped Alice in the open countryside near La Bresse, a commune in the Vosges department in Lorraine in north-eastern France. Members of the resistance picked her up by truck and took her to the border, leaving her to negotiate the last few miles on foot.

Her papers showed her to be Eva Drescher, a refugee from Düsseldorf and her cover was that she was trying to find her boyfriend, who had told her he was relocating to the area just prior to her house being destroyed by Allied bombing raids. That was enough to justify her temporary lodging in a worker's hostel and the plan had worked a treat, with a bed being allocated to her with only a cursory check.

The intelligence community had served her well with excellent forged papers that had proven impossible to tell apart from legitimate documents.

She joined the queue for breakfast at six-thirty the next morning, taking her meagre fare—a small chunk of bread with a scrape of jam and a cup of ersatz coffee—to the end of a crowded trestle table, eager to pick up on any items of chatter that might prove useful.

Her excellent German language skills and blonde locks made it very difficult to distinguish her from the locals. She had even worked with a dialect coach on joining MI6 to ensure nothing was left to chance.

Nothing of any real interest to her mission had been said by anyone around the table. A few men had tried to flirt with her a little. People spoke about the hardship of life and all the latest reports from the fronts. About fallen sons and missing family members.

She had almost finished the meal, such as it was, when three members of the Gestapo appeared, two men and a woman. It was a worrying development. There really was nothing of any concern to them here other than various refugees and people looking for work to help the war effort. Their eyes systematically took in each of the people seated the tables until eventually they approached the warden.

Alice breathed a soft sigh of relief. She blended in perfectly here.

Yet the Warden immediately shattered her sense of cautious comfort by responding to a question by nodding in her direction. The female Gestapo member turned to look at her and then walked briskly to her table. The woman was tall, even without her heeled boots that clicked on the stone floors of the hostel, not unattractive, and the small scar under her right eye even added a little character to her face. Her golden-blonde hair peeked out from under her peaked cap and she also had that arrogant look on her face for which the official secret police of Germany were notorious. She knew she had power.

"Your name?" she barked, looking down on Alice.

"Eva Drescher."

"What are you doing here?"

The question was short and to the point. This woman wasn't messing about.

Alice calmly gave her cover story, making sure she maintained eye contact to add sincerity to what she said.

"When did you arrive?"

"Late yesterday."

"The name of this boyfriend you are looking for?"

The questions weren't stopping.

"Gunter Eichmann."

"You last saw him when?"

"A week ago. In Düsseldorf."

"Get your things and follow me."

Alice felt her heart sink. There wasn't any obvious reason for the Gestapo to take her away—her papers were perfect and her cover story was almost flawless. Why would they even inspect the hostel? The first question had led them straight to her. That made no sense, no one knew of her mission outside of MI6 and the resistance group that had spirited her to the German border.

Not unless ... there was a mole somewhere?

The woman towered over her and her two Gestapo companions stood nearby. Despite her unease, she didn't have much choice other than to comply with the order. Not without giving the game away entirely.

She calmly stood up, making sure she offered the right amount of deference to the three of them, and followed her out of the door. The woman led the way and the two male members followed behind her. They headed across town towards a police station that stood next to the multiple railway tracks and adjacent engine sheds.

The two men stood outside the back of the building while the blonde took her through a back door and into a small room with a bed in the corner, a table in the centre and very little else.

Alice had just glanced around the room, quickly memorising everything she felt could prove useful if she needed to escape, when she felt a sting in her neck. Her legs felt weak, her head grew fuzzy and her body slumping back into the blonde officer's waiting arms.

Blackness instantly followed.

LATER THAT DAY

The guard flicked on his monitor, watching as it burst into life and revealed the unconscious female, centre screen. The naked woman was as good looking as any of those previously brought to the facility, possibly even more so. And she had a fabulous body. Toned yet curvy. He was going to enjoy watching this one.

She lay on her back, her long blonde hair fanned out around her face. The nipples on her pear-shaped tits were already erect and, curiously, she was shaved between her legs. He had never seen a woman like that before. He could actually see her labia, already glistening and slightly parted from where she'd been subconsciously rubbing it.

Her breathing was heavy from the drugs, causing her chest to rise and fall rhythmically. It was almost a hypnotic sight on its own.

Each cell at the complex was laid out in exactly the same way. All were brightly lit, but there were no windows, and the door had no handle on the inside. It was important to ensure that the prisoners knew they had no hope of escape. To further add to the caged feel, the walls were painted an industrial two-tone gray.

There were two small beds, one at each side of the cell, and the hidden camera in the ceiling operated whenever there was movement.

The woman's toned legs slid against each other, but her eyes remained closed as she lay there. She had remained deep in the same dream like unconscious state since her arrival at the facility.

The sedative was still working in her system. So was the combination of other drugs that, together, were known as GG1. No one except the most Senior Officers understood exactly what the initials stood for, or the full effects, other than it had intense aphrodisiacal qualities. The trials were nearly over and the guard had been proudly told that the new drug would win them the war. After watching the effects on the guinea pig captives at the facility, he didn't doubt it.

As he watched, the barely noticeable man curled up on the other bed suddenly pushed himself to his feet and started to edge, slowly and almost uneasily, across the room towards the female. He was in his late forties, tall and slender, and his receding hair had been shaved when he was captured. The guard hoped they didn't shave the female. He loved women with long, blonde hair.

He smiled as the man stood next to the woman. How ironic. One British secret agent prisoner lusting after the other...

As he stood over her, the woman moaned and her hips squirmed in her sleep. The guard grinned. She would be dreaming—hard, intense and deeply realistic sexual dreams. The drug never gave them any relief, even when they were asleep. If anything, it was even more powerful then when they were awake, infiltrating the sub-conscious mind without any fear of resistance.

Not that it mattered. Resistance was futile.

In the bright light of the cell, the man's erect penis stood out straight and hard. He couldn't stop himself from wrapping his hand around it as he stood watching the woman squirm on the bed, even if she was completely unaware of his presence watching her.

The fingers of his other hand reached out to touch her blonde hair, picking up a couple of long strands and then letting them flutter back down around her sleeping face. She looked so beautiful.

The man moved his hand closer now, using his fingers to trace soft almost tender lines across the woman's face—her cheek, her lips—and even that simple action seemed to excite him. The hand on his cock began to move a little faster as he slid his index finger into her mouth. She made no resistance—how could she?—her lips parting as if they had been waiting for that finger to come.

She had pink, pouting lips, the guard observed—glossy lips that seemed to part like they had been stung by a bee. Suckable lips, he called them. Unknown to his superiors, he'd had his way with every single female under his watch. It was just a simple case of turning off the cameras whilst he visited them in the dream laden sleep.

It would be no different with this woman, despite the fact that his superiors clearly considered her to be of great importance.

When the prisoner began to fuck her mouth with his finger, the guard fished his cock out of his black pants and started to masturbate. The man began to masturbate too, jerking his cock with his other hand while he blatantly pushed his finger back and forward between the woman's lips. What was she dreaming? That it was a cock? Her pouting lips willing closed around his finger and she was sucking eagerly.

In the male prisoner's mind, the guard knew it wasn't his finger the woman was sucking. His eyes were closed as he jerked on his cock, and for a moment the guard thought he was going to try and force his thick shaft into her mouth. She wouldn't have known.

Instead, he began to pant harder, grit his teeth, close his eyes ... and then he was spurting across the woman's tits.

The guard reached his climax, too, except that he was firing his seed into one of the thick tissues he kept by his desk.

The box was half empty.

EARLY EVENING

Alice moaned in her enforced sleep and rolled onto her back. Her head was drowsy and her heavy and clumsy hands rose up to her breasts. She wasn't fully awake, not even half-awake. Her mind was still swathed in the excesses of her sexual dreams.

She gave a soft purr as she used the fingers of one hand to caress the creamy deposit into her skin, not that she knew what she was doing. The other worked from her stomach, tracing slowly down until it began to tease between her thighs. She was lost in her recurring dream, one that she had never had previously and yet suddenly seemed to repeating over and over inside her head.

She was being fucked by a male member of the Gestapo, still in uniform, while a golden-blonde haired woman with a small scar under her right eye was sitting astride her face, rubbing her pussy across her lips. What was worse, Alice was aroused by the dream, despite the degrading way in which she was being treated. She was a strong-minded, independent young woman, and yet she felt completely submissive and obedient to both her lovers.

She began to stroke herself faster, harder, arching her hips with every caress until, with a final cry of pleasure, her fingers tightened in her clutching sex as a powerful orgasm washed through her. Realisation gradually began to return. That was how each of those dreams seemed to end. Despite the humiliation of being used in such a way, each climax seemed to grow in intensity.

The bright light made her blink as she slowly opened her eyes. She squinted as she glanced around the room, and then pushed up on the bed as her reflexes took over. Her left hand dug into the mattress, maintaining her balance until the wooziness in her head settled. Instinct told her she'd moved too quickly.

Her practiced gaze quickly took in everything she needed to know. The room was basic, very basic. No windows, no handle on the door, two-tone gray walls and a brighter-than-bright light. It was more like a cell but not like one she had ever been kept in before. The lack of windows suggested she could be underground. Wherever she was, the Nazi's didn't want this place being found any time soon.

She was lying on a small bed to the left of the door. On the opposite side of the small room was another bed. She wasn't alone.

An older guy sat in the corner of his bed, his naked body slumped back against the wall. His head was shaved and he looked tired, weary—defeated? His knees were drawn up, and one arm rested casually across them, concealing his face except for his eyes. They looked sad, withdrawn, almost ... ashamed?

But it wasn't just the look in his eyes that caught her attention. She could see his dick. It was fully erect.

For the first time she realised that she was naked too, and she adjusted her pose to cover as much of herself as she could.

"Who are you," she instantly asked, keeping her gaze on his. "Where are we?"

"Generally, somewhere in the Kaiserstuhl hills near Freiburg," he answered. His voice sounded soft and tired. "Aside from that, I can't really be sure but specifically, we're in a hidden Gestapo complex."

He moved around on his bed to face her full on, making no attempt to hide his penis. It bobbed infront of him. Despite herself, she felt an instant surge of heat between her thighs at the sight. What the fuck? As an agent, there wasn't much she hadn't seen or done. Why should the sight of a middle aged guy's dick instantly arouse her?

She momentarily looked away, embarrassed, and then glanced down at her own body. Her tits were caked with some sort of substance. It didn't need too much imagination to work out exactly what it was and she felt her mouth drop open in both surprise and shock before she stared at him again.

"It's mine," he apologised, holding his hands up.

Her lips curled in horror as she stared disbelievingly at him. And yet, what was even more horrific was the undeniable thrill that suddenly ran through her veins. Her hips shuffled a little as she sat. Something wasn't right here. She should have been outraged.

"I jerked off on you while you were sleeping."

His tone was weary and remarkably matter of fact.

"You did what," she snapped, biting down on her lower lip to hide her arousal.

This was so wrong. She should be appalled.

As he stood, his erection speared forward, rising from between his thighs like a mini tower. He made no effort to cover himself as he walked towards her. How could he? The cell was so sparse all he could have done was wrap a bed sheet around himself. She tried to pull her gaze away from his erection but it wasn't easy.

"It was the best I could do," he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I didn't want to be fucking you when you woke up."

She sat back as he approached, aware that her breasts swayed with the movement. His eyes were drawn to them and she could feel her hard nipples begin to ache the way they did when she was aroused. Her breasts felt bigger too, almost as if they had swollen and grown.

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