Decadence

Briefly Otto closed his eyes, he remembered all too well, the starry black nights, the endless snow and ice, so cold that it caused weapons to jam, anything metallic to shatter, the wind that blew through their threadbare Black Waffen SS Uniforms. His enemy might not have understood much about a tactical withdrawal or any warfare tactics for that matter, but they had bravery and a seemingly endless supply of fresh troops. It had seemed that all his men did was retreat. His unit had retreated all the way from Stalingrad, fighting one rearguard action after another, every skirmish whittled away at his command. They had retreated at every step. No more joking about advancing on Berlin. They began by retreating across the steppe of Mother Russia, into Romania. Soviet forces herded them into the forests of Transylvania, where they were finally destroyed. When there was no diesel for their vehicles, they marched, and then walked, until they finally just stumbled along. When there was no ammunition for their weapons they used knives, bayonets and their trenching tools, even rocks and sharpened sticks. They had no food except what they could steal from local, better armed, civilians. He had originally commanded five companies. When he finally surrendered he alone was able to walk. Of his five hundred soldiers, only five, excluding him were alive. He remembered the prisoner of war stockade, a barren square of an uneven farmer's field, open to the elements, demarcated by rusting; blood encrusted barbed wire.

Vivid flashes of victorious, well fed and clothed drunken Russian troops bellowing with laughter as they shot indiscriminately at or near their helpless prisoners. Then an officer was among them. The shooting stopped. Otto looked out, it was a woman. The royal blue piping along her cavalry like uniform pants, matching arm, and hatband of her peaked cap indicated she was NKVD. The Russian peasant soldiers shrank back; a bullwhip was thrust into her brown leather belt with shoulder-straps and was balanced by a holstered pistol. A PPSh 41 Sub-machine Gun was slung almost casually around her neck and would be instantly accessible, should it be needed. The clearly visible rank tabs on her shoulders indicated she held the rank of first lieutenant, definitely not a person any common Russian soldier liked to trifle with, even though it was plain to see she was a very pretty, slim, young woman.

She pointed at Otto and ordered one of the rabble to bring him to her. The man did as ordered, hastily clubbing Otto to the ground with his rifle but before grabbing him by the neck of his filthy uniform, dragging him towards and throwing him at her feet.

"Are you Sturmbannführer Otto Gunther?" She asked in German.

"Yes." He replied in Russian.

"Come with me." She ordered in the same language, holding out her hand. Her hair was flaxen, with eyes of green, like a cat's, and the same implacable stare. With surprising strength and feline ease she pulled him to his feet.

Otto stumbled after her. His boots had been appropriated upon capture; his bloody feet were bare, and sore. He followed as she walked with catlike grace in knee high laced up brown boots through the filthy rubble towards a muddy, scraped and dented Allied armored troop carrier. The white circled star recognition device had been crudely painted over with a red hammer and sickle. Although American in manufacture, it resembled the famous Mybach Halftracks that he and his Unit had used while serving with Rommel in the Afrika Korps.

She opened the rear door. "Get in!" She ordered.

Otto stumbled and fell into the vehicle, sprawling face first onto a carpeted floor. He looked up. This was no ordinary armored troop carrier. The original canvas roof had been replaced with steel, making the interior dark and gloomy. He could discern that the interior was pristine white; the two rows of seats had been removed and a desk and leather covered chairs had been bolted down in their place, also, to one side, was a large bed and table.

A woman asked in Romanian from the shadows. "You found him Elle?"

"Yes Comrade Colonel." The lieutenant answered in the same language. "Sturmbannführer Otto Gunther: Born 6:00 PM July 6, 1906 in Hanover Germany, to Fritz and Isobel Gunther, both deceased. He joined the SS in 1939, after induction, he transferred to the Waffen SS. He saw service with the Sixth Pioneer Division in Poland, Africa and Stalingrad and of course now, since we are here in Hungary, I mean Romania." She stumbled, grinning slyly, almost impishly at her intentional slip of the tongue before continuing. "He was at Perekop Isthmus, then Sevastopol. As you know their OKW intended to hold Sevastopol as a fortress, as our Glorious Red Army had done during the first battle for the Crimea in 1941/42. The rapid movement of our Army together with their inadequate preparation of the defenses of Sevastopol made this impossible, and on 9 May, not even one month after the start of the battle, Sevastopol fell back into our hands. Like with Stalingrad his SS brigade covered the rearguard of the German retreat.

He was twice promoted for bravery under fire and was awarded Iron Crosses, second and first class, Eastern Front Medal with a Close Combat Bar, Army Parachutist Badge and a Gold Anti-Partisan Badge, which our beloved General Beria will, no doubt have him have him shot for. The Romanian Order of the Star (Officer Class) and a First Class Sniper's badge and Tank Destruction Badge according to his soldbuch, he has numerous wound badges and awards, and has the right to wear both the Crimea Shield and Afrika Cuff title." She continued reading from a slim file and what looked like his confiscated pay-book or soldbuch. "They ran out of ammunition and he was captured last month. Now he is target practice for our Glorious Proletariat Army as it sweeps victoriously towards Berlin. The last message his Unit sent, they would fight to the last bullet, which they did, by the way! Our intelligence leads us to believe the OKW considers him, and his entire Unit, killed in action, he will not be missed, just another of their 97000 casualties of the campaign."

"Good! Bring him to me, let me see!" the woman ordered.

The pretty lieutenant grabbed his collar and half dragged him towards the desk, Otto did not struggle, knowing that this was the end. They had systematically killed every man in his unit, either in battle, or as prisoners, by denying food, and medicine, or by torture and needless executions. He was a member of the SS, there were no delusions, and he understood and expected nothing less. It had been a barbaric war, where atrocities were commonplace on every side. History would be re-written by the victors; only losers would be expected to pay the heavy price for the barbarism and inhumanity that everyone had committed. Any war tribunal would be a futile attempt to mask man's inhumanity to man by pointing the finger at the defeated side. Otto could not make out the woman's features in the shadowy confines of the darkened vehicle, as what little light there was came from directly behind her.

"You have done well my precious, he is indeed handsome." She declared, kissing the blonde with passion on the mouth.

The blonde arched her back, exhibiting sensual pleasure and returning her superior officer's kiss with visible passion, before turning towards Otto and wrinkling her nose while rubbing her hands and arms vigorously, "He stinks! He's filthy and I think he has lice or fleas. Ugh!" She scratched at her arms and wrists, grimacing.

The mysterious woman nodded, "Probably both." She agreed. "Now let's get back to Head Quarters." She ordered. "It will dawn in a few hours."

The lieutenant slid past her superior and sat behind the wheel. The Detroit Diesel's roar coincided with the resuming stutter of gunfire from the stockade, and they moved off, the tracks making the quintessential squeaks and squeals common only to halftracks irrespective of pedigree, as the vehicle plowed its way over the rough track.

Otto waited, aware he was being scrutinized. He muttered in Russian, "Under the Geneva Convention I am permitted only to disclose my name, rank and serial number. I am also to be afforded reasonable medical care and my superiors informed of my capture."

"What Geneva Convention?" the Colonel asked." Have you abided by it?"

"It is the rules of war, and yes, I have abided by it!" he answered.

"Shut up, Major, for you the war is over, you should sleep; I have big plans for you when we reach my headquarters." She chuckled.

Otto had not slept for more than a few minutes at any time since his capture, now within the confines of the armored car his senses were dulled and he found himself nodding off, he tried to keep awake, the indistinct Colonel seemed to be ignoring him, he wasn't quiet certain because it was dark, and the carpet was soft and warm, he succumbed finally.

He awoke when the vehicle stopped. The motor was switched off.

"Come Major, we have arrived," the Colonel said.

They climbed out, one after the other, the Colonel leading the way. The halftrack was parked alongside a few American jeeps, a captured kubelwagen and a T34 Russian tank in the courtyard of what looked like a castle. The walls were stone, the red flag of the Soviet Union flapped alongside the blue, yellow and red, of the new Soviet-Rumania strategically fluttering from every rampart. Otto, whose brigade had fought alongside numerous Romanian brigades of General Antonescu, including the Rosiori and Calarasi regiments and the infamous Romanian Waffen SS brigade, during the retreat. He grinned ruefully at the bright new Soviet-Romanian flags. He was led through a pair of stout wooden doors into the castle. Both women returned hasty salutes the sleepy guards gave them.

It was not a military head quarters. It was a head quarters for debauchery, although it was close to 4:00AM partially drunk uniformed and unclothed officers sat or stood smoking cigars and drinking small glasses of Vodka at a long wooden table, where they seemed to be studying a mountain of food, while scantily dressed male and female soldiers stepped in between filling drinks or bearing food or sat being fondled or performing fellatio. Couples copulated in pairs and threes in front of their peers unabashed. This was indeed a strange and decadent Soviet military head quarters. There was no static buzz of radio signals squelches and beeps bounced of the stone walls. The officers and ranks that were capable, stumbled to attention when their Colonel entered; briefly she read dispatches that various semi-sober aides thrust at her while she walked past.

The slim Colonel nodded briefly, behaving haughtily as a queen to those present, as she had yet to show him her face, it was enigmatic. She pointed to Otto. "See he is cleaned up, Lieutenant Llendl says he has lice and fleas, have him deloused and pest-free, also see that my car is also cleansed." She said to no one in particular.

Otto was led away by two partially dressed female non commissioned officers, their large unfettered breasts jutting proudly through their unbuttoned uniform shirts. He was sprayed and scrubbed, then led naked to a small room. His cuts and bruises were attended to, his face shaved as well as under arms. The women had a great deal of fun and were giggling while completely shaving his pubic region and the crack of his buttocks. His matted platinum hair was clipped to an acceptable military brush cut. He was then placed in a room that had one steel barred window, set at least three meters above the floor. The room itself was only big enough to hold a small military-like cot. He would have wolfed down the warm meal that had been put before him, but was afraid it would be drugged or poisoned and he finally fell asleep naked on the covers.

The same two women came for him just after dark the following evening. The door was flung open and they beckoned him to follow them. This time they were sober, prim and proper, fully dressed and official. A brown insignia-less Soviet style uniform had been left for him while he slept; which he put on. There was new cotton underwear and socks and new stiff leather boots for his feet. "The Colonel will see you now, Major. Follow us please!" A redhead corporal with curly hair ordered him.

Otto followed the women as they walked briskly along one passage after another, taking stairs up and up higher into the Castle. Finally they stopped at a pair iron bound oak doors, they rapped loudly on the heavy oaken panels. The door seemed to open on its own violation. The two women turned and strode off down the passage leaving Otto to enter alone. The door closed behind him. The room he stood in was huge with smooth high walls and a vaulted ceiling; this must be the colonel's private suit he thought. There were small arched glazed windows and the room was illuminated by moonlight and dozens of candles fastened to the walls Gothic style. The floor was made of enormous smooth slate tiles. A vast table stood in the center of the room, the table was set for a banquet, and various cuts of meat and fruit and cheeses were set upon the table, dozens of bottles of wine and vodka stood ready to be opened. Lieutenant Llendl stepped out from the shadows. She was not in uniform. In place of the drab brown and blue uniform, she was wearing a long red satin gown. Her breasts weren't large but were exquisitely shaped; the nipples outlined themselves beneath the shiny satin, below her pert breasts the gown was gathered in at the midriff, pinching in her waist with matching red kid leather criss-crossed stays across her flat belly. Her shoulders were bare, and her golden hair had been brushed out of its military bun, marcelled, French style, and hung down below her bare shoulders. She wore red high heels, matching her gown. She was breathtakingly beautiful in the candlelight.

"Welcome Otto, Anna will be with us presently, feel free to enjoy her hospitality, help yourself to some food and wine, or vodka perhaps, anything you like, anything! It is all yours for the taking, everything; rest assured it is neither drugged nor poisoned." She spread her arm out towards the loaded table.

"Later perhaps," he said as she stepped closer to him.

"Do you like music? We have a gramophone." She added pointing to a new looking American HMV set perched on a small table close to the main table.

Otto glanced briefly through the pile of recordings alongside the gramophone; he chose a Strauss Waltz, set it on the turntable, winding the key until it would go no further, and lowered the needle onto the record. The large room was filled with Strauss's Blue Danube.

Elle continued, pointing to another pile of recordings partially hidden beneath the table under the gramophone. "We have some American music as well as German, in that pile there." She said.

Otto thumbed through the second pile of 78 RPM recordings, finding one by Glen Miller, and several of Wagner. He chuckled. "Glen Miller, perhaps, but I've had enough of Horst Wessel or Wagner and his damned Valkyries." He said while placing the American record next to the gramophone.

She stood so close he could feel her warmth, and smell her subtle scent. Erotic, the scent was slightly feral and musky; it had been months since he had been so close to a woman, his body began to betray his interest.

"I know this is very forward of me, but, will you dance with me, Major?" Elle asked.

"It would be an honor Lieutenant." He said, taking her in his arms.

They began to waltz, to Otto, Elle seemed as light as a feather, she followed his every nuance, and step. They danced like as if they had been dance partners for many years. They were joined together at the groin, in spite of himself, he felt himself hardening. Elle gave him a dazzling smile and pressed her hips forward, grinding her pelvis against his erection as they stepped in time with the sensual waltz. The record ended, and Otto bowed to Elle in a cavalier like fashion, in a futile attempt to hide his erection. Elle in turn, curtsied.

The Colonel must have entered the room while Otto and Elle were dancing. When the couple separated after the waltz, she clapped her hands, applauding them. "You dance very well, Major, I like that in a man." She said.

Like Elle she too was out of uniform. Otto saw her fully for the first time. There was no other way to describe her, she was stunningly beautiful. She appeared to be somewhere in her thirties with hair the colour of a raven's wing, long and straight, swept back, almost like a peasant girl's. Her flawless skin was alabaster; with a face that was heart-shaped, complimented with classically formed Slavic cheekbones. Her nose was perfectly proportioned and slightly hooked, giving her almost a predatory air. Her wide lips were a sensual bow of delicate cosmetic ruby red; her teeth were pearly white, perfectly spaced and even. Her chin was rounded just enough to appear firm rather than stubborn. The sheer silk black dress she wore was strapless and seamless; theatrically it exposed her milky shoulders and advertised her cleavage. The bodice clung as if it had been sprayed on, and not slipped into. Subtly, the entire ensemble hinted that she wore no underwear. The garment ended below the knee but, through daring slits in the full skirt it could be discerned that her thighs were sinuous and supple. Her muscled calves were bare, and her small feet thrust into black patent leather stiletto heels. It was her eyes that chilled him, they were large and as perfectly shaped as all her attributes and features, but their hue was a reddish hazel, nothing young and vibrant about them, they were as old as time itself and they stared at him, cold and unblinking.

"Elle, make sure we are not disturbed." She ordered.

Elle nodded, walked to the doors and lowered a hinged beam into place across the doors to the chamber. "This room is soundproof, and it would take an anti-tank gun to get through the door." She added. "You will not be disturbed Anna." She said.

Anna sat at the head of the table. "Sit Major. Let us discuss your future." She ordered, pointing to a chair adjacent to hers. Otto sat.

Anna put manila binder down on the table in front of her. She opened it. "According to our Glorious Soviet Central Committee, and Allied governments, all members of the SS will be charged with belonging to an illegal political organization. In addition, you have, along with your illegal political organization committed atrocious war crimes against Soviet Russian citizens and citizens of countries under her protection." She continued to read. "Any one of these charges, if proven, carries the death penalty. It is a good thing that you are dead already, eh?" She looked at him and sneered when she finished reading.

"What can I say, Colonel?" Otto asked. "You hold all the cards."

"True, Otto, true, lucky for you I have a need for you. You may call me Anna, I will call you Otto." She said.

She beckoned Elle closer. "You liked dancing with her, eh?" She asked of him.

Otto nodded. "Yes of course I did, she is a wonderful dancer."

Anna nodded almost absently. "Yes I noticed." She smiled bleakly. "She brings passion out in you, eh? I saw."

Abruptly her hand flew to Elle's breast; she grasped and ripped the satin bodice and stays, tearing it from Elle's body. Elle stood unblinking, her pert little breasts standing proud. Anna rose from her chair, and ripped the gown from Elle's body, until she stood naked, in her high heels that were hidden in a pool of torn satin.

Except for the hair on her head, Elle was hairless, her pubic mound was plump, the vaginal lips puffy and slightly open and glisteningly moist.

Once again Otto's body betrayed him, he could feel the blood pulsing to his penis, giving him an enormous erection, he squirmed in his chair, and he averted his eyes, trying not to look at the gorgeous naked girl beside him.