Greta Von Yurt's Gestapo Ordeal

SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp urged her on. "Good, my liebschen, very good. Wonderful, in fact." He seemed to be breathing laboriously.

Greta kissed Shtetl for what seemed a long time. Perhaps she was now reliving that fateful night, perhaps not. Perhaps she was play-acting, perhaps not. She was, to her way of thinking, somewhere in between it all.

Finally, she broke the kiss and knelt before the man, his large member bumping her cheek. God, she thought, he is big! Will I be able to swallow him as I did Otto? Swallow was the key word, she remembered.

But now, determined to play the whore and put on a good show, she added a wrinkle to the act. If Otto, she thought, wants a show, I'll give him one he'll never forget! With that she pushed her head into Shtetl's groin area and proceeded to suck on his hairy, large-sized testicles. Shtetl immediately moaned and his legs started to shake. She heard Otto gasp. Then he spoke, a hoarseness to his voice Greta had never heard before.

"Ach du leiber, Greta, you are full of tricks now, aren't you?" She nodded her head, one of Shtetl's balls fully in her mouth, and mumbled, "Hmm hmm." Shtetl moaned again and his legs continued to shake even though he now had both hands on her head as if to steady himself.

Greta worked his balls until both were sloppy wet. As she laved them she placed both hands on his ass cheeks and drew him toward her. She knew Otto would like that.

She then used both lips and mouth to wet up his large cock shaft. She went down one side and up the other, leaving a trail of saliva to mark her travellings. When Shtetl moaned once more, it seemed to act as a trigger on Greta's vagina. The wetness was now beginning there as she gave herself up to the lewd act. She now moaned as she continued to lave his shaft and cock head all around.

As she now held his stiffened penis in her hand, she noticed that it had a slight upward tilt to it. For whatever reason, this had an electrifying effect on her. It was the first penis she had ever seen bent that way. As she touched it now, she felt her vagina moisten up.

Finally, and Shtetl seemed glad of it, she took his penis head into her hot mouth. The head was huge, though not any wider than Otto's, but it was longer and went farther down his shaft. Feeling it in her mouth now, Greta estimated it to be at least half and inch longer than Otto's. But the flange, unlike Otto's, more closely hugged its shaft. She proceeded to go up and down on the massive piece of meat. Throating it fully was next on the agenda.

Swallow the meat flashed through her mind and swallow the meat she did. And, just as with Otto that first time, the cock disappeared down her throat without bothering her reflex gag in the least. When her lips finally touched the Colonel's pubic base and her nose bumped his lower abdomen, he let out a yowl. "Oooooooooooh, mein Gott, I can't believe it!"

She worked his cock as she had Otto's that first night, but twice as passionatelly. The effect on the Colonel was amazing. He kept yelling and moaning, moaning and yelling. Then, at some point, he grabbed her head fast and started to mouth fuck, slowly and sensually, in and out.

She knew he was getting close. She also knew her thumb, which now touched the bottom of his cock base, would warn her when the sperm started its trip to her mouth. She worked him a while more, and then she felt it, the first ripple under her thumb. She was all the way down on him at the moment.

She knew she could stay where she was and just let his sperm enter her belly, untasted by her, but she sensed this wouldn't go over too well with Otto. Thus, she scooted her mouth up to the middle of his cock head and sucked away at it, her tongue pressing firmly against the underside. A second later, she felt the first of his acidic and salty ejaculate.

Unlike Otto, but similar to her Hans, the Colonel was a spurter. The first spurt hit the back of her throat and she felt some of it makes its way downward toward her belly. More such spurts soon followed, the cock head swelling up just before each one. Why, she didn't know, but she used her thumb to count the spurts. Nine in all and all very copious in volume.

She swallowed them all, all nine spurts, without even spilling one small drop. She knew she was getting good at this part of the game. After swallowing the last violent spurt, she worked her mouth vacuum- like on the large cock head, milking it for every last possible drop. Shtetl was gently massaging the back of her neck, still groaning. What Otto was doing, besides looking, she didn't know, and, if truth be told, she didn't care, either.

She stood up and continued the show. She put her arms again around the Colonel's neck and kissed him again. And thought some.

She knew that she had just given the Colonel the best blowjob he'd ever had and had pleased him in a way no woman ever had. She hoped she had pleased Otto, too. And, in doing to Shtetl what she had just done and knowing she had an audience, she had enjoyed it herself. Her very wet pussy told her that much. Now she was hot, too. And wanted Shtetl to fuck her. In her pussy, in her ass, anyway he wanted to. Nature was in command of her.

A perverse thought flashed through her hot mind as she felt Shtetl's hot tongue working against her own. Fucking both men at the same time. Fucking one while sucking off the other. Oh, yes, that would be especially vunderbar, to feel Otto's oversized head in her hot, sucking mouth while, simultaneously, feeling the hugeness of the Colonel's baseball bat deep within her vagina.

Oh, yes, and to feel them both spurt in unison, Otto in her mouth, the Colonel in her pussy. The thought of it, the imaginings of it, the heat of the idea was making her lose reality.

She now kissed Shtetl for real, way beyond the play-act stage. A slut, she knew, had been born. A slut her beloved Hans, wherever he was, wouldn't know, recognize, or even like any more. Her Hans, she knew, was lost to her forever, one way or the other, gone, poof, no more.

Whatever they had, and however good it had seemed, was now only a dim memory of a life she cared less and less about with each passing hour. Otto spoke from his chair. She broke the kiss and looked in his direction. Otto's sperm was all over the carpet in front of his feet, the many white globules puddling up on the dark blue nap's surface.

Otto's face looked red. "That was absolutely amazing, my dear Greta. You've outdone yourself and made me very happy in the bargain. Now, what say we have something to eat and drink, you two hot lovers, and later we can resume our little game." They both said yes in unison.

* * * * * *

GRETA had her wish fulfilled that night. They both fucked her at the same time and both came, almost together, the SS-Oberführer beating the Colonel to the punch by mere seconds.

Greta had come so many times it was impossible to keep track of. And the Colonel had proved a good lover, a good fuck a man who knew how to use his large specimen to the woman's advantage. He was slower in his love making than Otto, slower even than Hans. This man took his time, the world be damned. Oh, yes, she had enjoy Colonel Shtetl.

Prior to this, there had been only one event that had made her feel quite ill. Wretchedly ill, as a matter of fact.

The men had consumed more than a few beers with dinner and when they were all three in the bedroom, again naked, Otto had announced he was going to introduce a new game into the equation. He ordered Greta to get on her knees in front of them both. She complied, not knowing what to expect.

"Now, Greta, you are going to get a new treat. I have to piss, as I'm sure the Colonel does. Your mouth, my sweet, is going to serve as our human urinal!" He laughed. Shtetl did, too. Greta felt immediately sick. She wanted to protest, to say something, but nothing came out of her mouth.

Otto swayed a bit and said, "Open wide, liebschen, and take some sweet pissy piss!" He sounded slightly drunk. Shtetl said, "Ooh, I have to go real bad! May I go first, mein Commandant?" Otto waved a hand at Greta as if saying, be my guest, old chum.

Shtetl took a step toward Greta and offered his totally flaccid penis to her face. Knowing she was trapped, she leaned in and took his soft penis into her mouth. And merely waited. Then Otto said, "And DON'T SPILL A DROP, GRETA! SWALLOW, SWALLOW, SWALLOW, IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOUR LITTLE PISS MOUTH!

A moment later, Shtetl let loose. In a deluge. His urine flooded her mouth so quickly, she almost failed to swallow. But she caught it just in time. She swallowed again and the scenario repeated itself. Then again and again. And some more. He was pissing like a race horse. Greta felt as if she had swallowed at least a large glassful. Finally, he stopped and just let his dick soak in the mouth. He left it there a moment before quickly pulling it out. For the first time, Greta could now taste the man's piss.

It tasted awful, truly pissy like, but it was bearable. She knew it wouldn't kill her. Otto next stepped up to the plate. As she swallowed his ugly tasting urine, as copious as shtetl's had been, he kept calling her his little piss mouth, to the great glee of the Colonel.

The only kindness Otto had sent her way was allowing her some wine to wash the piss down. It had helped immensely. The wine taste had quickly replaced the piss taste. They had then proceeded to fuck her.

Later, after Shtetl had gone home, Greta was told by Otto that this was to be a once a week affair with his Colonel and, if Otto chose, other senior officers he deemed worthy of his special reward.

His officer roster, Greta knew, consisted of twelve men, from aged twenty-two through aged fifty-five. Resigned to it all, as resigned to something as a person can get, Greta knew she would fuck and suck them to lascivious perfection, pleasing Otto along the way. While, she also knew, pleasing herself as well.

Her life now consisted of sex, shopping, sex, getting her hair and nails done. sex, buying a new dress, sex, and more sex. She was known to all the men as SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp's wife, a slut wife to be sure, but they all treated her with great respect. That this respect was from fear of her powerful "husband" didn't matter to her. She had survived.

And, Otto's use of the word "officer" had put her mind at rest when it came to the 160 barrack's boys. There would be no barrack's boys for her. She would fuck and suck quite a few of Otto's officers, for sure, but she would not end up as Anna had, in a nut house and staring into space all day, too out of it to even know her own name.

Greta was grateful to Otto for something else. He had kept the kinky stuff, the piss swallowing, the ass licking, from the officers. He resereved that for himself and Colonel Shtetl. The officers were limited to straight sucking and fucking, with even anal sex denied them.

She was now, as SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp had so clearly told her, his sex slave, his whore, his slut, his piss mouth, and a property of the Third Reich. His bidding was all she needed to live for. There would be no more articles written by a Jew loving traitor, now or ever again. Sex slaves, he told her in no uncertain terms, had no time for such nonsense. She had agreed quickly, which had pleased him.

* * * * * *

A YEAR HAD PASSED and, during that time, Greta had serviced nine of the SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp's officers. And, to satisfy Otto's seemingly endless search for hotter and hotter scenarios, had sucked and fucked all nine of them, one after another, on more than one occasion. With Otto watching her perform with each man as he took his turn.

She was only thankful that those events were somewhat infrequent as she usually felt so totally tired and drained, it took all her energy just to speak, let alone walk.

She now had, in one sense, a gallery of German men, some handsome, some not, who made her come and come quite often. However, none of the officers made her come better than Shtetl with his large penis. The only man capable of surpassing the Colonel was Otto himself. No one could compete with that over-sized cock head that she could feel outlined in the pit of her vagina.

On a scale of one to ten, ten being best, the officers ranged from a three to a seven, Shtetl rated a solid nine, while her Otto was somewhere around eighty four. And sometimes it felt even higher. The officers gave her the sky, Shtetl, the moon, but Otto gave her the stars and the all of the heavens.

It was now Thursday, December 25th, 1944. Christmas Day in Berlin as elsewhere in the world. Otto had phoned to alert her to a little Christmas "gift" he was bringing home for her, a new gift, one she had not seen before, one SS-Scharfuhrer Emil Vurden, aged twenty-nine, married with four children. Highly decorated in combat. 6' 2" tall, 190 lbs, blonde hair and blue eyes. Facts she had gleaned from peeking at his personnel records. He sounded to her like the stereotypical German male. And, somehow, she knew he would be handsome and dashing. And well hung in the penis department. Greta now sat in their living room, waiting. The anticipation flowing over her. The front doorbell rang. Had Otto misplaced his keys again? She headed toward the door and opened it wide when she reached it. A regular army soldier stood there at rigid attention, a large satchel attache gripped firmly between both hands.

"Frau Von Yurt?" He looked as stiff as a statue.

"Yes, how may I help you?" She felt a tremor of worry flit through her mind.

He opened the satchel case and pulled out a thick manila envelope and offered it to her. "I have been instructed to hand this to you, Frau Von Yurt and await here for further instruction from you." As she took the envelope, he raised his heels and clicked them together. "I'll be right here, Frau Von Yurt, when you need me." She thanked him and closed the door.

With trembling fingers, she opened the envelope. A quick glance told her it contained a large, fat envelope and three letters, one unfolded, the other two folded in thirds. It looked to her as if the unfolded letter was to be looked at first, so she removed it and read. Her fears had been realized. She knew this without even reading the letter. It had been typed on the SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp's personal stationery and it read:

My liebschen Greta, my PM, if you are reading this it means that I am no longer among the living. I wish I could say now that I loved you, my liebschen, but I have never in my life felt that foolish emotion. However, please believe me from the depths of my soul, when I say I have grown beyond fond of you. That, my little dumpling, is as close to love as I can attain without feeling foolish.

But you, my dear, are still young and have much life before you. With that in mind, you will find enclosed some provisions I have made for both your future security and your immediate safety. I have written you out an unlimited travel pass which will allow you to cross the border and leave Berlin. You will also find an envelope containing 50,000 american dollars. This should see you through for quite some time, at least long enough to establish yourself wherever you finally end up.

The soldier who delivered this is at your beck and call. He will take you to the border and see to it that you don't run into any problems.

But use haste, my sweet, for Germany is losing the war and if those blood-thirsty Russians come storming into Berlin, there is no telling what they will do to a lovely fräulein such as yourself. To further inspire you to use haste, I will tell you this: The revenge-seeking Russians will make the barrack's boys look like saints by comparison. So, hurry my love, hurry. And God go with you.

Forever yours,

Otto

His PM? she thought. It took her a bit before she got it. His piss mouth. How endearing of him, she mused.

Greta wanted to cry, but couldn't. She didn't have it in her no matter how "fondly" she now felt for her Otto. She took out and opened one of the folded letters. The travel pass, just as Otto had promised. She reached in and extracted the other folded letter. She opened it and read, tears immediately welling up in both eyes. It was on war deparment stationery.

The first two lines were unimportant. It was the third line that was responsible for her tears.

With deep regret, we hereby report the death, in wartime action, of Lieutenant Hans Von Yurt, Commander 2nd Division, 4th Battalion, 1st regiment, Russian front, XY223174D. There was more, his heroism in battle, his dedication, etc. but she couldn't care about that, Hans was gone and that was that. She let her tears flow unstopped, her body convulsing uncontrollably.

Then reality crept in. Make haste, Otto had said. She quickly packed a suitcase, changed her clothes to something demure for travelling, and went and opened the front door. The young statue soldier was still there, as rigid as ever, waiting for her instructions. She told him to take her to the border immediately. He clicked his heels and said yes Frau Von Yurt. Thus, with nothing more than that, she was off to a new life.

They had driven in total silence for nearly ten minutes when a thought popped into her head. She tapped the driver's shoulder and said, "Do you know that my husband, SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp is dead?"

"Yes, Frau Von Yurt. I had to know that in order to follow my previous instructions." He sounded nervous in her company.

"Do you know how it happened?" She had to know, but didn't know why. Perhaps it would mean something to her in the long run.

"The SS-Oberführer was on a routine inspection of the barracks, Frau Von Yurt, when the allies carpet bombed it. He was killed along with 160 fine German soldiers." She thought, the barrack's boys! Poof!

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Joseph Fritz, Frau Von Yurt. Sergeant Fritz, Frau Von Yurt."

"Well, Joseph, I want to ask you a question and I expect total honesty from you." She was about to use an Otto tactic. "If you lie to me, Sergeant Fritz, I will know it and you will have your next chat with Colonel Stetl. Understand me?" He only nodded his yes, too afraid to even speak.

"Good. Now, here's the question, Joseph. Have you ever heard the sexual rumors when it comes to me and the SS-Oberführer, about how we have orgies with his officers and all. Be honest or it will cost you dearly, young man!" She liked this game of power playing. It seemed to suit her.

He paused before answering, surely thinking, and finally nodded. He'd heard. Who hadn't? Greta thought.

"Good! That means we have no secrets about the matter, now do we?" He shook his head from side to side, not knowing what else to do. His mouth was so dry, he was glad she was accepting his nods and head shakes for answers.

"Now, my little Fritzie, I want you to be a clever boy and find us a nice and quiet and very secluded little spot where I can show you the truth to all the rumors. Are you game for something new?" He nodded again, this time a little faster.

"Good. I promise it will be great fun, liebschen. Just you wait and see." She felt the old wetness beginning to form in her crotch. I am a totally depraved slut, she thought, and I don't give a rat's ass.

Less than five minutes later, Sergeant Fritz pulled into a shady glen, a place surrounded by large trees and a mile off the main road. The only sound either of them could hear was the sound of crickets chirping, seeking love from one another, their message rhythymical and unmistakable to other crickets.

Greta left the car and Fritz followed suit. They now stood less than three feet apart. Perspiration had formed on his upper lip and across his forehead. He looked even younger than she had first remembered.

Boldly, she said, "Take off all your clothes, lover, and show me what you have for me. I love surprises!" God, I'm absolutely wanton, she thought. He started to strip. She started to do likewise.