Greta Von Yurt's Gestapo Ordeal

She stepped out of the panties, unable to look at him. Then she realized not doing so might anger him. She looked at him. He looked demented, depraved. He was drooling. His mouth hung down, making the scarred bottom lip look even bigger and rougher. Play-act, she reminded herself. Remember Anna.

Thus, with a will of iron and the hidden talents of a Sarah Burnhardt, she said, "Do you like what you see, Oberführer?" Her mouth felt dry. She had said it coquettishly, which surprised him, as well as herself. She now stood at full attention before him, totaly naked, her beautiful breasts and pussy unhidden to his eyes. She noticed that he had his drink back in his hand, the ice clinking even as it melted. He sipped at it.

"Oh, yes, my dear, what man wouldn't? But you disappoint me somewhat. I had expected more of a fight out of you, more, shall we say, revulsion at the idea of it all. But, no matter, I have many little tricks that will test your feminine mettle. Many tricks, my dear. As you shall discover. But for now, let's chat, shall we?" She stood there as he walked all around her, taking an occasional sip from his glass.

"We will chat about your feelings for the Jews later, but for now I will ask you some questions and you will answer each with a nod or a shake of your head. Understood?" She suspected he was about to test her further. She nodded.

"Good. Now, do you know, Frau Von Yurt, that we are going to have sex tonight or, as some say, fuck?" She nodded. The word fuck had forced her to cringe.

"Good again. And you know you are going to suck my big, hairy cock, don't you, my dear?" She shuddered and nodded. She heard him behind her, taking a sip.

"And my old, hairy balls . . .?" She shivered all over, but nodded again.

"And if I tell you I want to put my prick into your tight little ass, you will tell me to go fuck myself. Right?" She almost nodded, but caught herself in time to shake her head from side to side. She heard him laugh behind her. He was enjoying himself at play with his mouse.

"And if my asshole wants to feel the heat and wetness of your hot tongue on it . . . " He let the question hang in the air. Gritting her teeth, she nodded. Oh, God, help me, she thought, by letting me die this very minute. But she didn't really mean the prayer because it would mean no more Hans, no more us, no more anything. Play-act, she now thought as she nodded agreement to doing the vile act with him. He laughed again.

"You're too pliable, my dear, I have a feeling our little Hansy pansy has prepared you for what is going to take place here. Don't answer. It doesn't matter to me." He came around to her front, threw his drink at the fireplace, where it smashed into many pieces, and dropped his robe to the floor.

He was naked now, too, large paunch and all. The two of them just stood there, both naked now, facing each other in the brightly lit room. His large, heavy, hairy balls hung down, framing his wide and flaccid penis. The head of his penis looked huge, much larger than Hans' more normal looking one. It frightened her just to look at it, but it was also mesmerizing, just as a Cobra's gaze can be to its prey.

"Come to me and put your arms around my neck and show me how well you can kiss, my sweet little Jew lover." Play-act, she thought as she moved toward his hulking shape. As her arms encircled his neck, she could feel the heat of the man. It was overpowering, as was the musky smell of his male sex. To Greta, his heat and the musk smell seemed to permeate the room, cloying her nostrils. This was nothing like Hans' sweet, manly odor. This was more primitive, more animalistic. It scared her.

Greta closed her eyes and sought his scarred lips with her. On contact, she had the urge to vomit, her stomach muscles wretching, churning, convulsing, but managed to control herself. His lips were rough, partly from the scarring, but also from their natural state. They reminded her of the papery, parched-looking lips she had seen on the gorillas at the zoo. Beasts, just like him.

She felt his large, fat tongue enter her mouth. It seemed hotter than hot. And wetter than wet. As he pressed his lips against hers, his tongue delved even further into her mouth, finding her own tongue and playing with it. Kiss him back, she thought, don't anger him. Survive. Her tongue rolled around, exploring the fat, fullness of the intruder. He moaned and kissed her harder, running his hands over her ass cheeks at the same time. Then his hands went up and explored all over her back. Then back over her ass cheeks.

His kissed her for what seemed a long time. Then he kissed her neck many times before he worked his way downward to her nervous breasts. Finding her right nipple, he started sucking on it hard, causing her to wince in pain. He then switched to her left nipple and did the same thing. It felt unbelievably awful to her.

But SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp was enjoying himself. After thoroughly suckling on her breasts to his satisfaction, he groped her ass cheeks and then stuck a finger, then two, into her vagina. His other hand stuck a large finger into her rectum to the first knuckle. His big hands now had her impaled between them. He wiggled all his fingers around for a bit as if testing for fit, and then seemed to lose interest in the deed. He looked her in the eyes.

"On your knees, Greta, and suck my cock." He smiled at her and then added, "And do a good job with no biting. If you bite me I will have all of your teeth removed before turning you over to my men." He didn't ask if she had understood. He knew she did.

She knelt down before him, his great, hairy paunch hovering and seeming to sway in the air above her. God, give me strength, she prayed. Play-act flashed in her brain. Then Anna.

Greta took the fat, flaccid member into her right hand and lifted it so it pointed toward her face, her mouth. In doing so, she couldn't help but look at it. It seemed even fatter close up. And wider. At least two inches in girth, perhaps even more. The flange around the ridge stood out, all around, a full half-inch from the shaft, with the cock head's pee hole deeply indented, as a cleft chin might be. The whole appendage was meaty looking and felt quite heavy to her for a human penis. Hans' was nothing like this, nothing at all like it.

Taking a deep breath, Greta moved her head forward and took the monstrous head into her mouth. It was so incredibly wide. As she felt her lips cross the flanged ridge, the plumpness of his cock head filled her mouth, pressing against her tongue. She was reminded of a salami. A thick salami. He moaned above her, placing his hands into her hair and drawing her head even closer to him.

"Suck it, Greta, suck it good." She started a forward and back motion with her mouth, as she had done many times to her dear Hans. As she sucked, she felt the man's cock hardening up. Slowly at first, then more quickly, getting fatter, the head swelling to even larger proportions, the length of the shaft increasing. At full hardness, which was no more than seven inches in length, Greta believed that the wide head would certainly choke her to death. He moaned once more and pulled her head even closer to his hairy groin.

"Take the whole thing, my dear, all of it." He said it threateningly, as if failure in the attempt would anger him. I must avoid that, she thought. She removed her mouth and said, simply, "Yes, Oberführer."

Greta had been able to accomodate Hans' much slimmer 7" all the way down her throat, but this cock head now before her was unbelievably wide. She moved down the shaft, feeling the large cock head enter her throat's beginnings. When it hit her gag reflex, she decided to try something one of her married girlfriend's had told her to do, make a swallowing motion. She swallowed, as if eating a large piece of meat, and, to her utter amazement, it worked!! The entire cock head went down her throat with the one simple swallow until the man's pubic hairs were touching her lips. This amazed her. He moaned somewhere above her.

"Gott in Himmel! Ach der lieber!" he said. It had amazed him, too. "No woman has ever taken my cock head that way before. They usually throw up an entire meal all over me. I have often fantasized about a woman doing what you've just done, but I never thought it would ever occur. Now, suck me and swallow my sperm, you unbelievable deviltress, you." He started mouth-fucking her face, the fat-flanged head plunging deep within her throat on every third or fourth stroke.

As she sucked away on him, her saliva sputtering all around her mouth and around his fat-headed cock, they soon got into a syncopated rhythym. It was intoxicating to her, this sucking action, as if she was a baby suckling at her mother's nipple. And, to her chagrin, she found herself enjoying it. The meatiness of his cock head was doing something strange to her lips and tongue. Something very pleasurable.

While she hated this man, hated doing this for him, she also felt the pleasure sucking can bring. Like a pacifier, she thought. A large headed pacifier. This both scared and tantalized her.

As their cock-in-mouth rhythym increased, his moaning increasing along with it, she found herself completely enraptured by it all. She hated herself for feeling this way, but she couldn't help it. And she hated herself for admitting that something else was going on, too. Her vagina was moistening up. She could feel the stirrings, the familiar wetness, as it increased. Sucking off the vile bastard was getting her hot.

And the desire in her welled up, too. Not for the man, but for the moment, the sex, the act, call it what you will. She tried to tell herself it was play-acting, but she knew that was a lie. Perhaps, she thought, I'm a wanton slut deep down and this is merely revealing it to me. Oh, God, I hope not, for how will I ever face my Hans again? How will I face myself again? These horrible thoughts mingled with the pleasure her mouth was feeling and the growing wetness between her legs. Confusion swam through her brain.

SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp groaned, a real loud groan. He was, she knew by the gutteral sound of it, about to ejaculate into her mouth. She moved her mouth so just the head was engulfed, as she had many times with Hans, and moved her mouth back and forth over the cock head gently, waiting for his release. A moment later, he squeezed her head with both hands, holding her fast, and spasmed his sperm into her. She had expected him to yell as Hans usually did, but he was merely moaning.

His sperm entered her mouth in large globules, thick and sticky, with the consistency of yogurt. The sheer initial volume of it amazed her. Her mouth flooded up, forcing her to swallow. As she felt the large sea of salty sperm go down her throat, her mouth flooded again. She swallowed once more.

Then, to her utter amazement, her mouth flooded again, even more so than either time before. The amount of it caught her unaware and she felt it splashing out around his cock and dripping down hotly onto her naked knees. Her Hans had never been this copious, not even when he hadn't ejaculated in a week's time. Or even longer.

"Greta, use your mouth to suck the last drops out of me. Vaccuum my cock, my dear." She immediately complied, squeezing her lips tightly around the cock head and drawing her lips back toward herself, maintaining pressure. He was finally satisfied with her work.

He withdrew his cock and lifted her up to a standing position. He reached out and removed a large glob of his sperm from her chin. "Here, suck this off!" The finger was right in front of her mouth, the large glob shiny white. She reached out and took the finger into her mouth and sucked the sperm away. She swallowed just as he said, "After such a wonderful performance, my dear, we must use our first names. Call me Otto from now on, Greta. All right?"

"Yes, Ober . . . Otto." Was all she could say as she stood there awash in her mixed emotions.

He told her they would now be wined and dined in the finest manner and that afer dinner they would, now Greta and Otto, make love. She nodded. He told her to get dressed. He had a phone call to make.

As he walked away from her, her eyes took in his naked back. He looked younger from this position with that awful paunch hidden from view. His back was very muscular and strong appearing. His buttocks were somehow girlish looking and very tight. This side of him was, unlike his front, handsome. And very verile looking. This surprised her.

As she saw him close the door, she tried to reason with herself, to get some earthly perspective. She had just sucked off the vilest of men and she should have been revulsed, repulsed. And she was, but she also wasn't She should have been sickened now by it all. And she was, but at the same time, she wasn't. This dichotomy worried her because it meant that, while hating it, abhoring it, she had partially enjoyed it. And now had to admit that horrid fact to herself.

Perhaps, she reasoned, my brain is echoing back to the days of the cavemen, when a man, allegedly, would grab a woman by the hair and drag her back to his cave. Where he would, allegedly, force the woman to do his bidding. Was all women's subconscious wired that way? To accept her fate by enjoying it? To survive? To live through it for one more chance at another new day? To play-act?

But where, she thought, did play end and act begin? Or was it all one seamless illusion meant to fool her, the self-audience? She was lost in an ocean of confusion. True, she had had her share of girlish fantasies, but never had she pictured anything forcible. It was always gentle in nature, both loving and romantic. The man, who always remained faceless to her, was handsome, dashing, and sweetly loving. Gentle, even as he ravished her in his large feather down bed.

Tonight, on the other hand, was something completely different. It was alien, truly strange. Frightening and titillating at the same time. It was primitive and animal like, and yet, strangely normal, as if it fit in with some master female plan for survival in the wild. The words animal rutting popped into her head.

And worst of all, as she stood there now, naked and horrified, ashamed and filled with guilt, she had to fight the overwhelming urge to place two fingers deep into her vagina to relieve the havoc that some unknown, unnamed demon had created within her. She felt a hot flush of guilt rush from her neck to her head. And, she well knew, the night had only begun. The Oberführer wasn't finished with her yet, not be a long shot. A picture of his hairy ass opening wide to receive her tongue flashed into her brain. She shuddered at the image.

* * * * * *

IN THE BEDROOM, SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp, was on the phone. He spoke quickly, his authority on full display.

"Colonel Shtetl, Stemp here. Listen carefully as I do not wish to have to repeat myself. Understood?" It was. "Now, Shtetl, I want you to prepare orders for one SS-Gestapo Lieutenant Hans Von Yurt for redeployment to the Russian front. He is to leave within the next hour. He is to be told nothing of my involvement in the matter. Understood?" It was.

"Good. Then, Shtetl, I want you, personally, to go to his apartment and tell his landlord that the Von Yurt's are moving out, permanently. Give them no other information. Then Shtetl, I want you, personally, to enter the Von Yurt's apartment and pack up everything belonging to Frau Von Yurt. Take nothing of her husband's. Understood?" It was.

Colonel Shtetl had been through this many times before. His superior was taking a wife, quite literally. And the wife in question, Shtetl well knew, was a knockout. Shtetl, himself, had more than once devoured the woman's stunning figure with his eyes. He knew exactly what to do to please the Oberführer, who now and then shared his conquests wiith him. Shtetl now daydreamed about the lovely and luscious Frau Greta Von Yurt.

" . . . and bring all of her belongings, personally, to my penthouse quarters. Use the service entrance so as not to disturb us, er, me. Understood, Shtetl?" It was. Holy shit, thought Shtetl, he's got the wench there with him now! I'll bet she's all ready naked. Oooh! Has he put his big-headed cock into her mouth yet? Has he fucked her?

His eyes closed as he attempted to picture, once more, Frau Greta Von Yurt in the buff. His cock stirred, pushing against its confining fabric. Reflexively, he reached a hand down and squeezed the bump it had created. He knew mastubation was in the wind for him this very night. With Frau Greta Von Yurt supplying the lewd images.

" . . . disturbed for the rest of the evening, unless it's news of an allied surrender or of Eisenhower's untimely death. Understood, Shtetl?"

It was.

* * * * * *

WHEN SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp re-entered the living room, Greta could see he had changed his clothing. He now wore light gray pants, a dark gray smoking jacket and a pale yellow ascot at his throat. Embroidered on the breast pocket were the familiar twin SS lightning bolts, again in yellow. And, this time, he had his feet covered in shiny, black leather slippers. The word dashing flit shamelessly across her mind, making her flinch.

* * * * * *

AFTER DINNER, he took her into his bedroom. He ordered her to strip once more as he proceeded to do the same. Before long, they were both naked and standing no more than two feet apart. This time, she noticed, he had a full erection, unlike before. It stood out beneath his paunch, looking unfamiliar and familiar to her at the same time, the large head wobbling in space as if seeking a landing spot.

The lighting in the bedroom came from one single lamp. This made her feel much more comfortable than she had felt in the living room with it's harsh glaring lights seemingly everywhere. Strangely, this thought made her blush. Girlishly, she hoped the low lighting hid this fact from him. As if it could now matter in the least.

"Now, mein liebschen, come to me." She obeyed and soon found herself in his strong, hairy arms. His lips found hers and their tongues dueled sloppily. His large hands roamed her body. She could feel his large paunch pressing into her stomach as well as the head of his monstrous penis. He kept kissing her lips. And kissing her lips. Without let up. This went on for a very long time, the two of them just standing there, a mere few feet from the large king-size bed.

Hans popped into her head. He had usually kissed her just a few times before taking further action. At times, this remission on his part had left her mildly frustrated. But while her loving Hans was nowhere near the handsome, virile and dashing, faceless man of her idle girlish fantasies, he loved her. That made up for it quite a lot.

It hadn't really bothered her, not deep down, but now she fleetingly wondered if that wasn't because she never had anything to compare it to. Feeling unfair to Hans, she pushed further thoughts of him out of her mind. She needed all her wits to play-act.

SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp had left her lips and was now planting hot, wet, sloppy kisses all over her body. Her neck was wet as well as her breasts. Once again, she felt the familiar wetness make itself known between her legs. His type of foreplay was getting to her, touching something deep within her, making her tremble in want of him.

She had a choice. Fight the feelings that threatened to swamp her or give in to them. Fighting could lead to his displeasure of her. Giving in, she knew, would only lead to pleasure for them both. She decided to surrender, to survive, to escape Anna's fate.

Thus it was that she reacted very positively to all his actions. When he kissed her now, she kissed back, with passion, with abandonment. When he rubbed his hands over her, she allowed herself to moan and the moaning itself had a strange, wonderful effect on her. It made her feel less like a prisoner and more like his equal somehow. And less guilty. Then she surprised even herself. She reached down and lovingly squeezed his full-blown erection. She squeezed it again and slowly stroked the shaft back and forth. I giving, she mused, my first handjob to an SS-Oberführer!