Lady Pixie Ch. 08: Nazis & Death

Quite what would have happened next I have never been sure. The way seemed open to a life where decadence took precedence. After all, what difference was I actually making as an MP? The economic crisis was taking its toll, and no doubt the world would one day recover and things would marginally improve for people like my constituents, but why overly concern myself? Why not eat, drink and fuck like crazy because tomorrow - or soon after - we would all die?

Even as I accommodated myself to the chastity belt and put my dress back on, with Kurzer and katchen nodding in approval, and Bella beaming, there was a banging on the door. Then it shattered and into the room burst a group of burly men - I thanked God they had not arrived earlier.

In German the leader, a thick-set man who looked like a nasty piece of work, growled:

"Get these fucking perverted bitches and show them why they need a man."

Two burly men made the mistake of trying to grab Kurzer, who proved worthy of her surname of Dëmon. Grabbing the whip she had been planning to show us, she turned and smashed its hilt into one of the men whilst turning and kicking the other in the groin. Bella grabbed the strap-on and smacked the ugly swine who had given the order in the face. Nothing ventured nothing gained, I figured, I took a vase from the side and smashed it on the head of the man Kurzer had hit. He went down. By that stage, Bella had used the strappy as a truncheon to smack the leader in his groin before I brought down a second vase on his head. The third man, stunned by the unexpected resistance, ran.

"Out, now", Kurzer screamed at us, "there's an emergency exit behind that curtain to the right."

So, in classic fashion we exited, stage right. I held katchen's hand; the poor thing was trembling.

We must have looked an odd quartet, Kurzer, still in her basque and shorts, katchen in nothing much, and Bella and myself in some disarray clothes-wise.

"Quick, in here", Kurzer signalled as we reached the end of the side-street.

She led us upstairs and locked the door.

I started shaking. Bella held me right.

"Well, Bella, our Lady Pixie here is no soft touch when it comes to vases!"

Kurzer gave a great laugh as she patted me on the back.

"What was that?" I gasped, still trembling, as Kurzer handed the still-naked katchen a robe.

"That", said Bella, was your husband's friend Adolf's doing."

"But", I objected, "how? It's not like he was there watching the cabaret?"

"You don't understand, Lady Pixie", said Kurzer, "it is okay for them for men to indulge, but a woman's place in in the home, either in the kitchen cooking, or on her back being fucked so she can propagate the Aryan master-race."

"Fuck that, for a game of soldiers", I cried.

"Alas", Bella interjected, "that is just what is happening. These fuckers are National Socialists, Nazis for short, and they want to take revenge for the Great War and make the German Reich great again!"

"Nazis", I spat out, "Nazis, I hate them!"

I have never deviated from that view.

Bella explained, as katchen made us all some coffee and I stopped shivering from the adrenaline rush, that these thugs, in the Brown Shirts and with Swastika armbands were the shock troops of the movement led by the Chaplin look-alike, Adolf Hitler. Their aim was to impress upon the ordinary German the determination of the Nazis to "clean up" the depravity of Weimar Germany. Clubs like the Kit Kat were an obvious target, although, oddly, the male-only section was left untouched. I shuddered to think what would have happened if the goons had arrived whilst I had been on my hands and knees. I had a horrible feeling even the chastity belt would not have stopped them. Poor katchen was still in shock. The lovely Kurzer was comforting her.

"Bella", I said, "I think we should leave our friends for now. They need a bit of time and space."

I kissed Kurzer tenderly. She had taken charge in the crisis. I owed her much. I hugged katchen, and Bella and I left.

We walked back to the main street to hail a cab. We could see that the Kit Kat Klub had been ransacked. "Adsit Omen", I muttered.

"What's that mean, Pix?"

"It is Latin for 'we're all fucked, but not in a good way'," I replied.

"Gee, that's the thing about those Romans, they put it with pith!"

"The other thing", I added, "was they knew a thing or two about how Republics fell, not to mention thuggery, buggery and war."

Deep in my bones I had a foreboding.

Back at the hotel, we grabbed a scratch supper.

"Lady Fortescue", a waiter interrupted just as Bella and I were considering what to do next, "a telegram has come for you."

It never rains but it pours, they say. It was certainly true that night.

I gasped when I read it:

"Come now. Pa ill."

My mother did not like to waste money, and telegrams cost by the word. But for my mother, who had not spoken to me in the best part of two years, to contact me and to pay for four words told its own story.

I explained things to Bella.

My mother, the Countess of Walsingham, to give her her title, had been delighted to be able to marry me off, but when there were no children, and worse, when rumours of my life with Annie reached her, she had reacted with extreme displeasure. My mother did displeasure better than anyone I knew. Archie and I got Christmas cards, but no invites to Norfolk and the Big House. When Archie was promoted to the Lords, my father, the earl, was one of his supporters, and we received the formal congratulations one might have expected. Among the many things my mother was a stickler for were the proprieties. She had expected me to retire from public life and "do good" and had been, at least according to my one source of information about her, my sister, Lady Flora, "put out" when I had stood as an MP in my own right. Daddy had explained why, and she had tolerated it, but no more, When I repeated the offence in 1931 she had made her displeasure clear.

"It's not as though they need me for the heir and spare", I explained to Bella, my sister Flora, has done her duty there, in fact there's an heir, a spare and an extra just in case."

"Fertile woman your sister. Would I like her?"

"She's not your type, Bella", I replied.

"She's female and attractive, that's my type!"

That brought our Berlin trip to an end. Archie, who arrived back about two hours after we did, acted with decision.

"We'll get you on a plane back, old girl. I have to stay, I am afraid, Government business, but I can get you out tonight."

All our plans were dust.

I asked Bella to release me from the belt, which she did, but not in the circumstances I had supposed. She kissed me sweetly.

"See you back in town, Pix."

"I am not sure of my movements, Bella, but I will call."

The flight back to Heston was quite as bad as the flight to Berlin, but this time accompanied by exhaustion from my evening, and anxiety about Pa.

My father, the sixth earl of Walsingham, was a dry old stick. Only his eldest grandchild, Gerald, seemed to find a way to whatever sparks of humanity remained after a life-time of being the Lord of the Manor. But he was the only father I had.

Archie, bless him, had arranged for a car to pick me up at the airport, and we drove back through the night to the ancestral pile, East Barsham Hall. By the time we arrived, the dawn was breaking - it was just after seven.

I had managed to snatch a couple of hours of disturbed sleep in the back of the car, and the driver, bless him, had a thermos of tea and some sandwiches to keep me going. As we turned into the short drive, the sun came above the horizon, making the early morning mist dissipate.

As the chauffeur opened the car door, Bertram, the head butler opened the doors to the Hall.

"Milday", he intoned in that deep voice I remembered so well from my childhood. "Welcome back, though I could wish the cause of your being here a better one."

"Oh Bert!"

It was not done, or at least my mother said it was not done, to hug the butler, but, not for the first time, I disregarded protocol.

"You must be famished, Lady Cyn, let me get Cook to do you a cooked breakfast - bacon and eggs."

Bless him!

I thanked him.

"Milly will show you to your room, Milady, girl, take her ladyship upstairs and help her. Get Gerty to wake the Countess, tell her Lady Cyn is here."

Milly showed me to my old room, and helped me change.

"That's a very pretty dress my lady."

"Thank you, Milly, it's a present from his lordship. Have you been here long?"

Milly, it turned out, was from East Barsham, in fact I remembered her father, who had been the local milkman. Slight, but pretty, she was happy at the Hall, and hoping, no doubt, it would help har chances of a decent marriage.

I washed and then Milly helped me dress.

I could see her looking with interest.

"What is it, Milly?"

"Nothing, your Ladyship."

"Oh Milly, come on!"

"It's it's just I have never seen bosoms so small."

I smiled, she was not the first maid to comment so.

"Well, they are in proportion."

"Yes, your ladyship", she agreed.

There was a knock at the door. It was Gertrude, my mother's maid.

"Her ladyship will see you now, your ladyship. breakfast will be ready in a quarter of an hour."

"Here goes!" I thought.

I was shocked when I saw my mother.

Never more than thin, she seemed to have done the impossible - and lost weight. Her eyes showed evidence of weeping.

"Cynthia, good of you to come."

"Mama, the moment I got your telegram I dropped everything and flew back overnight."

"Do you want to see him, Cyn?"

There was no need to ask who.

She led me down the corridor to his bedroom. The nurse, who was waiting outside, let us in.

My father lay there. He resembled one of those statues on top of the tombs in medieval churches. Always having had something of the statuesque about him, in his final illness he seemed to become a statue - a monument to a world that was passing.

I sat with him for a while. I said some prayers.

Then I went down for breakfast.

The doctor said it had been a massive stroke, my mother said, as we talked over breakfast. There was no hope. It was only a matter of time. Flora, she said, would be arriving with her husband - and the heir - later that day. It was the final gathering of the clan.

I slept after breakfast, having plenty of sleep to catch up on. By the time Flora and the two Geralds (the heir was imaginatively named after his father, who was also Gerald, made things jolly confusing, but as the heir was about to become Lord Walsingham, maybe, like Pa, he'd get called "Wally"?) arrived, I was rested and in tolerably good spirit.

"Cyn", Flora embraced me, tears rising.

"Flo", I blubbed, as we reverted to our childhood nicknames for each other.

Lord Milton, Flo's husband, was gracious, but the surprise was young Gerald. It was like looking into a mirror. He was the spitting image of me - well as close as a twelve-year old boy could be.

"You noticed, Cyn?"

"How could I not? Nice to meet you Gerald. Golly, you've grown!"

"And to meet you too, Aunt Cynthia. You haven't", he smiled. Oh goody, I thought, a smart alec!

"Sorry to interrupt, your ladyships, but the doctor is here."

Doctor Owen had been our family doctor since time began. After going up to see Pa he came down.

"I have sent for the vicar, I think we are close to the end."

He was correct. The vicar, a thin, ascetic-looking man, gave Pa the last rites.

We sat and waited. We did not wait long. And so passed the very model of a country gentleman of the old school. We shall not see his like again - with a bit of luck.

"Lord Walsingham", mother said, shaking young Gerald's hand, "the title passes to you now."

"I shall do my best, grandmama", the young earl said. And so he did, bless him.

We laid Pa to rest in the family vault in the family church in the ancestral lands. It was all very Norfolk.

How fast these things were done in old England. Within a few months Ma had moved to the Dower House, and Lord Milton, Flo and the young earl of Walsingham had moved into the Hall. It was the end of an era for me.

Back in town, Archie was solicitous, and made himself scarce when Bella came to see me a few days after my return.

Oh how I had missed her!

But how sweet was the reunion.

As we undressed, Bella stopped me as I began to kneel.

"Not tonight, Josephine!"

"Who's this Josephine, another of your sluts?" I giggled.

Pushing me onto the bed, she straddled me, her big, heavy tits hanging low. How could I resist? I couldn't, and sucked on each nipple, hard.

I felt her knee part my thighs and press against my pussy. I knew I was wet, but the squelching sound told me how wet.

Then, kissing my small breasts, Bella ran her nails down my torso, her tongue and lips following them until she reached my vulva. Pulling my legs up, she pushed her face into me. I felt a huge release, suddenly my lower body and breasts were on fire. As she lapped and sucked, I felt overwhelmed. My senses could not cope. It felt like I would explode. My nipples ached so much I grabbed them and pulled and squeezed hard.

Bella's hands lifted my arse up toward her, exposing the whole of my pussy. She plunged something in. I felt stretched. She licked my clit as she fucked me. I came, and I came and I came.