Du Bist Mein! (You are Mine!)

DU BIST MEIN!

'Tail end Charlie.' Or if you prefer, 'rear gunner.' Not matter what nickname anyone referred to it as the general consensus within the crews was that, no matter which actual aircraft within Bomber Command was being discussed, this was the position everyone wanted to avoid. At all costs! For, without doubt, it was the most dangerous position to find oneself in, to a large extent isolated from the rest of the crew, again irrespective of the actual aircraft, and the first point of attack from any Luftwaffe night fighter aircraft that a British bomber had the misfortune to encounter. And such an attack would not be an even contest, although the four Browning 'three-oh-three' machine guns sounds an impressive battery of armament, this firepower was considerably outclassed, both in destructive power and range, by the twenty millimetre cannon fitted to most Nazi fighter aircraft, including the Messerschmitt Bf 110 that was used by many of the German night interceptor fighter squadrons.

However, somehow I'd managed to complete over twenty missions in that suicide position, when, ironically, being there actually saved my life; as the rest of my good friends that formed the crew of Avro Lancaster 'S' for Sugar, part of 126 Squadron, Royal Air Force, all perished on that fateful night back in Autumn 1943. For night fighter aircraft weren't the only deadly weapons of defence that the Germans had at their disposal in order to protect their Fatherland from our raids. Just as lethal could be anti-aircraft gunnery from the ground, known as 'ack-ack' or 'flak.' In particular the famous Eighty-Eight millimetre gun, a superbly engineered weapon, was not only very effective against aircraft but also proved itself to be a highly successful anti-tank piece of ordinance too. And it was a round fired by one of these very guns that destroyed our aircraft, not long after we'd been caught in a searchlight beam that gave away our location perfectly to the German artillerymen beneath us.

The shell hit our aeroplane right at the front and then exploded, killing everybody except myself within it instantly. And I only just made it to the escape hatch opening in time, as flames engulfed the now, rapidly descending, craft. Having done so however, I then deployed my parachute successfully, and once that had opened, began to contemplate just what to do next. For the reality of my situation wasn't promising. I would clearly be landing in enemy territory, at least one hundred miles from the only neutral nation in central Europe at the time, Switzerland. Dressed in the uniform of one of the armed forces currently at war with the people I'd be landing amongst, armed only with my service pistol. And very little ammunition for that! Not good.

As I descended I began to consider the wisdom of simply surrendering to the nearest German Military or Police unit that I encountered. For both Great Britain and Germany had signed up to the Geneva Convention, which laid down guidelines for humane treatment of Prisoners of War. And generally it was true that British servicemen taken prisoner by the Germans were treated fairly, as were their blokes in our hands. Unlike Germans or Russians taken on the Eastern Front, where no such agreement existed, resulting in P.O.W.s of both sides there being herded around almost like animals. And now it appeared the war might be finally drawing to a welcome close. The Russians had managed to inflict a massive defeat on the Wehrmacht at Stalingrad over the previous Winter, and finally our own army had got of its backside to also decisively defeat the German forces at El Alamein. Might it not be a bad idea to simply sit out the rest of the war in relative comfort?

But, isn't it the duty of any serviceman to, at least, try to escape? And there was another factor involved, my pregnant wife, Amy. And I knew that I really must, at least, attempt to get back for her. Thankfully, I managed to land safely and completely unobserved. Gathering my parachute, I made an attempt, a reasonable one in the circumstances, to hide both it, and all my flying gear, helmet, life jacket, that sort of thing, in a manner that although not completely concealed, would require some effort to find. And then set off on foot, looking for somewhere to try to catch up on some sleep, as by now I realised that I was rapidly approaching the point of exhaustion, both physically and mentally.

I came across what looked like some sort of farm or settlement, surrounded by a wall, that although fairly tall, was passable. Which I managed to achieve, to discover an orchard of apple trees on the other side. Laying down between a few of these and fairly well hidden, or so I thought, I settled down to sleep, a state that I descended into immediately.

To be, rather rudely, awakened several hours later, when night had passed into day and the sun was well and truly up and shining. By a female foot nudging my leg, and not too gently either. Struggling to shake the sleep from my eyes, I began to see the person who had disturbed my slumbers, or more accurately the stocking covered leg that had performed said action, which was long and shapely, believe me. It finally finished disappearing under am a delightful leather skirt, above which was the very shapely torso of a beautiful woman, also covered in leather in the shape of a very stylish jacket. And then finally, above that was a gorgeous face, containing a pair of piecing blue eyes and surrounded by a fantastic head of golden hair, which tumbled down either side with real style and beauty. However, what really took my eye was the Luger pistol, fitted with a silencer in her right hand, pointing directly at my body. And then this stunningly sexy Lady spoke, in a truly husky and sensuous voice.

"Willkommen in Deutschland, Englander!" She smiled, a dirty, suggestive smile, as she then continued.

"DU BIST MEIN!"

I managed to stammer in reply, "sorry Sweetheart, no sprecken the Deutsch!" Although I could well and truly guess just what she'd said. Oh, and sorry about the informal greeting, you see I wasn't an Officer and a Gentleman, but a working class bloke, who'd lived and worked as a docker in the East End of London before the war.

"Don't worry about that, Liebling," she replied. "For a while I too lived in England, and as you can tell, I can speak English very well. Right now, I want you to take off all of your clothes for me."

"WHAT? You want what?"

"I said, STRIP!"

"You can't do that! The Geneva Convention strictly forbids it!"

"Does it now? I dare say that you're absolutely right about that. But this is my private land that you decided to invite yourself, totally without my permission, onto. And therefore you are now subject to my rules. And I have no intention of worrying about this so-called convention. So, you have ten seconds to decide what is to be your fate. Become my property, or let me put a bullet into you! And, believe me I SHALL, if you make me!"

The smile dis-appeared from her face to be replaced by a look of sheer determination, and I knew she wasn't bluffing. "Alright," I stammered, "I'll do it," starting to unbutton my R.A.F. tunic. "May I get to my feet?"

"Yes, but NO funny business!" Tightening her grip on her weapon, and backing off a little to increase the distance between us. And I realised that she held all of the aces here, my own pistol was on the ground, where I'd removed it so as it wouldn't disturb me during my sleep. And I saw that she'd fully clocked it.

Using her own gun she gestured me. "Move, over there, five meters! Oh, pardon me, I mean five yards." I did so, guessing, correctly as it turned out she wanted me well away from my weapon. After I'd obeyed, still firmly keeping her eye on me, she moved behind it, stooped down, but not taking her gaze away at all, her other hand found my pistol, and soon it dis-appeared into one of her jacket pockets. Now the smile was back. "I believe that I issued you with an instruction, Liebling? Please continue."

What choice did I have? The, by now, fully unbuttoned tunic was removed, together with my flying boots and trousers. Followed by my shirt and socks, until all that was left was my underpants. And there I stopped, surely this German woman would allow me to keep just a little bit of my dignity. Apparently not, it seemed. "Well I can understand if you cannot understand the German language, but it appears that you don't understand the English one too! What does the word, strip, mean? It means that I want you to remove everything!"

I obeyed, feeling so helpless and humiliated. Now my German female captor removed the little rucksack she'd had on her back, and threw it down in front of my naked form. "Open it!" I did so. "Remove the contents." Again I complied.

Within what had been inside was a pair of silk female panties, that were very skimpy. "Since you seem reluctant to have your tools exposed to fresh air, I will allow you to cover them with those. Well, what are you waiting for? PUT THEM ON!" Too frightened to question her, once more I met her demand. Also there was a pair of sandal type shoes, which I was ordered to fit, with my full agreement this time. However the other items present didn't inspire confidence within my spirit. Two bondage ropes and a blindfold. I was directed to tie my legs together, just above my knees, with the first of those ropes, tightly, and then fit the blindfold. I now felt my captor move behind me, obviously having retrieved the second rope. "Arms behind back! NOW!"

Having obeyed, the inevitable occurred. The woman pulled my arms together, firmly, and began to bind them, and it was soon absolutely clear that she knew exactly what she was doing. Within about twenty seconds my arms were utterly bound together in such a manner that I just knew this bond was totally secure and inescapable! And while she performed this act upon my arms, another piece of my anatomy, just in the middle of roughly where my legs ended and joined my torso, also reacted. Becoming completely hard and rigid, as a force of sexual arousal coursed throughout my body, stronger than I'd ever experienced before.

"WELL! WELL!" She exclaimed. "I do believe that somebody is rather enjoying themselves here. Turned on by being in my hands, eh? Who'd have thought it? Now, don't you worry your pretty little heart Liebling," as her hands started to explore my balls and totally erect cock, "This is exactly why I've captured you! These are now mine! They might be fitted to your body, but they are now, unquestionably, the property of me, Gisela Hagelauer. I'll say it again, Liebling, DU BIST MEIN!"

Gisela continued to fondle my tools, making my cock even harder, if that was at all possible. And then she whispered into one of my ears. "Why don't I just get a good measure of precisely what I've captured here?" Off came my leg bonds, down came 'my' female panties and then Gisela's hands began to attack my tools with ever increased speed and ferocity, with one hand squeezing my balls and then releasing them in a cycle, and not too gently either, while her other was pumping my cock for all it was worth. And all the time that husky voice of hers was constantly whispering in my ear. "Cum for me Liebling, cum for your Mistress Gisela!"

Obviously the actions she was inflicting upon me meant that state of affairs would inevitably arrive, and sure enough it did. With Gisela holding on to me, once she knew she'd taken things well past that point, I shook and cried out, as my spunk shot into the air! "Well done Liebling, I'm very impressed! And, make no mistake the next time you'll be emitting, it'll be right into my waiting womanhood! You're just what I've been waiting for, ever since my Horst, who was also an airman a Squadron Commander no less, was shot down and killed in the skies over England back in the Summer of 1940. Or, is he dead? Maybe he's the carnal captive of some English woman, just as you are held in my hands now. Are you married, Liebling?"

"Yes, I am. And my wife has just discovered that she's pregnant." Hoping to appeal to Gisela's better nature, but I was beginning to get an awful feeling that the death of her husband had largely destroyed that. A true and accurate assessment of her state of mind.

"Really? I am sorry to hear that, but then maybe I'm doing her a favour, keeping you alive and out of this terrible war?" Or, maybe not I thought, but very much kept that sentiment to myself. Now, is if to add insult to injury, Gisela picked up my R.A.F. shirt, and believe it or not, used that to wipe my region clean from the product of her handiwork! Bloody cheek!

"Anyway, Liebling, much as I'd like to stand out here and chat to you, I have work to you, much of it caused by your presence here. So I think we need to go to the house, and get you settled in comfortably." She lifted the blindfold, and also my panties which she placed back into position and beckoned me to follow her. Once we reached the house, she led me down into the basement, which contained a large and comfortable looking bed. "Now, I have a busy day ahead of me, so I suggest that you settle down on that, and catch up on that sleep that you seemed so desperately to need." She pointed at a table on which was a jug of water complete with a glass, some food in the shape of sandwiches and some fruit. Gisela also pointed out a door, behind which were full toilet facilities she informed me. She then snapped a steel cuff around one of my ankles, which was attached to a very long chain, fastening the cuff at the other end around the lower bed frame. Now she undid the rope binding my arms, before leaving me alone down there, shutting and locking the door behind her.

By the time she descended the stairs to my quarters, having unlocked the door and entered to greet me again, she'd had a busy day. Firstly, with the help of her dog, who'd taken a good sniff of my clothes, she discovered and retrieved my abandoned parachute and other flying gear that I'd tried to hide. She then burnt all of this gear, together with the rest of my uniform clothing, complete with my 'dog tag' identification. Which she carefully removed from the ashes afterwards and packaged gently.

By now the local authorities, of which Gisela Hagelauer was a prominent member, had discovered the remains of the Lancaster Bomber that I'd been travelling in. She volunteered to deal with all of the relevant paperwork, including the need to send all of the identification tags of the crew, also including mine, to the next level of the organisational ladder.

So, by the time I saw her again, as far as the German government was concerned, I was officially dead along with all of my crewmates, Gisela's report informing them of such. And, why would anyone question it? The Chief Police officer responsible for reporting the matter had been totally happy to leave said paperwork to Gisela, he'd only handed her six 'dog tags,' and he had NO idea she'd added the seventh, mine. Nor did he care to check her report, he was a lazy bugger and was utterly delighted that she'd lessened his workload.

Naturally said German authorities would therefore pass on just what she had told them to the relevant British offices of state. Meaning that I'd be officially listed as 'killed in action,' and Amy would become a widow, if only on paper and not in reality. But nobody, especially my wife herself, knew that and why would she, or anybody else in Britain for that matter, question what they'd properly been told?

"Well then Liebling, there's now only two people in this entire world that know that you're not dead, and both of them are present in this room right now. Are you going to be sensible and accept that you are all mine, now?"

"I'm sorry, eh what was your name again, oh yes, Gisela. What the hell are you talking about? Not dead? Of course I'm not dead!"

"No, you're not! That's very true. But, as far as anybody outside of this room is concerned, then you're very much dead. You see, I'm quite high-up in the local government machine around here, and it was me who filed the report on your stricken bomber aircraft. And Liebling, my official report states that all of the crew were killed. I simply slipped your identity tag in with those of your crewmates, before sending them of to higher up. So the British government will be told that you are dead, meaning I can keep you here for myself! And like I say, nobody will know of it! Isn't that so exciting? Oh, and one more thing before we go any further here! Yes, you are right, my actual name is Gisela, but as far as you are concerned from now you will address me as MISTRESS! Understand?"

"Hang on a minute, GISELA," deliberately said as you can imagine, "so then, as far as everybody in England is concerned, I'm now dead? That means that Amy will think she's a widow. Come on, that's not exactly fair is it?"

The next thing I saw was that silenced Luger pointing in my direction. "Why, do you wish it to be a true statement then? Fine, if that's the way you want it?" And as she tightened her grip upon the gun, it was crystal clear from the look upon her face that she meant it!

I knew that I'd need to back off a little, no, maybe a lot! "Whoa there, Mistress! Ok, so it's you who holds all of the aces here. Guess I'll just have to put up with the situation then, won't I? But what, are you planning to just hold me down here until the war is over, then? That could take years."

"So it could Liebling! Plenty of time for us to get well acquainted then? Why, don't you find me attractive? I'm told that I'm quite sexy, are those that say that lying?"

"Not at all. To be honest, in my considered opinion you're stunningly sexy, and in different circumstances the prospect of a good shag with you would greatly appeal. But I'm a married man, I promised to stay faithful to Amy, a promise I fully intend to keep!"

"I can understand that. Remember I too was married, and no I never betrayed Horst."

"I'm sure that you didn't. So, surely you can understand my point of view, then?"

"Well I won't push things any further for now. After all you've had rather a shock to your system. But, would you like some dinner, Liebling? Upstairs, in my dining room?

"Thank you Gisela. Oops, sorry I mean Mistress. That would be very pleasant. And I won't try anything, after all how far would I get, naked, well almost?"

"I believe you. Please follow me."

Gisela was an excellent cook I discovered, and especially in my famished state, I rapidly devoured the German sausage and potatoes that she served up. She even allowed me a small beer, but just as I thought, Continental Lager had nothing on a good English real-ale, although it was still welcome on my part. And as we ate Gisela opened up about her marriage to her, presumably dead, husband. And I began to realise just how sexy she was, and that she was the answer to my deepest desires.

You see, whilst it was a completely true fact that I did love Amy, it was a warm contented love as opposed to a passionate one. Sex between us always had to be initiated by me. Oh don't get me wrong, Amy usually responded but I felt that sometimes I'd like her to make the first move, I'd like to be seduced by her, and I'd like her to take the lead role for once. But it never happened, there was so much love inside Amy's body, but no passion!

Up until the war commenced, and I'd joined the R.A.F. I'd happily tolerated this situation, but with the exposure to danger that entailed there was no disguising the fact that I now wished for some excitement and also wished for a dominate female to almost 'take' me and simply shag me her way and to her tune. And I knew that would never happen when I was with Amy. But now I found myself in a situation where I was in the presence of such a woman. Gisela was everything Amy was not. Amy was safe and pretty, sure she was attractive and not ugly at all, but Gisela was alluring, dangerous, and with a smouldering sexuality that, above all, promised action! By now I knew that I wanted Gisela, and my resistance to her advances was diminishing fast. After all, both Gisela and I remembered the reaction her tying me up had produced in her garden when she first captured me!