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Speaking only Russian, they used gestures to make her understand she must kneel on the bed and not move. She did so for a long time, hands on her thighs, eyes down. Her apprehension grew.
The General appeared , looking somewhat harried, with one of his officers. He paced before her a minute, looking her over appreciatively, then had his assistant unlock the chain from the ring on the floor. Coiling the chain in his hand, the subordinate led Leni out of the room with the General close behind. They led the naked girl down one passageway, up a long flight of stairs, then down again to a long gallery on a broad boulevard with enormous floor to ceiling French doors. The gray haze in the air from the constant firing had faded but the streets were still grim with dead bodies, destroyed vehicles and other debris.
The General had placed a high backed, red velvet and black leather chair in one of the open French doors. He ordered her to kneel on the chair and to keep her eyes forward on the boulevard. He took the chain hung from her neck down between her breasts, around her waist and then uncomfortably back between her thighs to be fixed to the back of the chair. Leni glanced quickly to the side as other women were brought in, all naked and chained, each to kneel in an open door. For this she was forcefully reprimanded with a slap. "If you look again," the General told her so everyone could hear, "I will hang you from the ceiling."
A long time passed, or so it seemed. In the distance, Leni heard the tramp of many feet. She dared not turn her head to see, but soon enough they began passing-thousands and thousands of surrendered German troops, often hatless, some without shoes or shirts, dirty and unshaven, old men and young boys. Russian soldiers with weapons at the ready, some with whips, marched alongside them. As the defeated troops passed the chained, beaten, naked women in the elegant doorways they were ordered "EYES RIGHT!" to ensure they got a good look. Leni found herself deeply ashamed, blushing red, lightly sweating in the heat and worse, thirsty again. All through the late morning and early afternoon she kept her eyes rigidly forward, watched from behind by her Russian guards. She would die if her father or Hans saw her like this. But then if they passed, at least she'd know they were still alive.
The two young Russian women came to take her to her room soon after the dismal parade ended. Leading her by her chain, with an armed guard following behind, Leni felt disappointed the General hadn't come. Hadn't she debased herself sufficiently for his taste? She bit down on her lower lip as she was marched along. Don't feel that way, she told herself. Don't be a fool.
Back in the windowless bedroom, Leni noticed six metal rings attached at intervals to the floor and ceiling. Her whole body tensed at the sight. Quickly turning her head, she peered down the hall thinking the General might be coming. No one stood there but the armed guard. Locking the door, the pockmarked woman stared at Leni intently, making her uncomfortable. Her pug nosed partner reached into the pocket of her ill fitting uniform skirt. Pulling out a tape measure, she handed it to Miss Pockmark. As the measurements were taken, the girl touched her, Leni thought, much more than necessary. Leni tried to show a look of disdain. She thought both of them were ugly, probably stupid.
When the measurements were all taken, Leni gestured repeatedly trying to make them understand she wanted a real bath, miming throwing water all over her body, not just something with a bowl and a rag. At that Pockmark laughed a bit. After a few unintelligible words to Pugnose, she led Leni down the hall to the bath. Somehow now the water was running for the tub. It was cold, but a small piece of hotel soap remained in the soap dish. Delighted, not only at the bath but the prospect of a dress to wear, Leni luxuriated in the cool water, soaping down vigorously while her guard watched her, holding her leash. Just about done, she shrieked as the girl suddenly knelt beside the tub. With a disgusting, simpering grimace she kissed Leni on the lips. Furious, Leni slapped her, knocking her back on her wide bottom. With a horrifying smirk the woman got to her feet, tightening her hold on the chain, pulling Leni out of the tub still dripping suds. Angry but scared, Leni lamented the General's absence again. The woman yanked her along so Leni had to grip the chain with both hands so she wouldn't fall down. For the next hour, Pockmark ran her through the halls, up and down the stairs, showing great stamina for a small woman. Officers, seeing them pass by, laughed out loud or cheered. Leni managed to find a trot that matched the girl's pace but did not appreciate being slapped or tripped by some of the men. When she fell they would graciously help her up, slap her ass and bark Russian as Pockmark picked up the pace.
There was no supper that night, there had been no lunch. The beautiful breakfast was a distant memory. A bowl of water on the floor was her only company. Leni sipped it, hearing female laughter on the other side of the door. With a start she wondered if she was being watched. She spit some of the water at the door. It didn't do any good. Plenty tired, she lay on the bed, no pillow or clean sheet, weeping silently for her mother. She prayed her mother was still alive-then for Hans, probably dead or a prisoner in Russia, for her father and for Erica. With many sighs she fell asleep.
Restless, wide awake again. She had been dreaming of the General. In the dream, instead of Pockmark, the General ran her through the halls. Leni liked it. He smiled at her, told her how pleased he was with her--a silly, stupid dream. He certainly wasn't a handsome man, Leni thought, certainly not in the way she liked. A very commanding presence though. He must have to shave his head every day. She pictured the young officers again at the hotel entrance all waiting for him, dropping their cigarettes, snapping to attention and saluting him.
She wondered about his human side. She imagined him telling her some of his troubles. Maybe if she tried--she knew the war was terrible for everyone--he might relax with her a bit. She sighed at her thoughts, gave in to them, indulging the picture of him naked, hard, ruthlessly above her, not caring about her pain. She reached down to stroke furiously between her thighs, caress her breasts, pinch herself until, panting, she satisfied her hungry body.
May 4-5, 1945
The next day she woke early, feeling goose bumps as she viewed the metal rings in the floor and ceiling through half open eyes. Thirsty, she lapped up the last of the water in the bowl. What time was it? What day was it?
When the Russian women stomped in without the General Leni felt all the nastiness of the previous day at once. The two dumpy girls held, with stupid, false smiles on their faces, a Russian woman's army uniform, just like theirs. About to scream, Leni stopped when she saw the bucket of porridge in one of their hands. Ravenous, she eagerly grasped the bucket. It was cold. Where was the spoon? When Leni gestured the two guards made sad smirking faces--no, no spoon! They scooped the air in their mouths like they were eating. Alright--Leni ate with her hand. The paste like gray porridge had no taste. She gulped it all down anyway, not knowing when she might eat again, not minding the bits that stuck to her fingers or fell on her breasts. While Pugnose held the drab uniform--at first Leni hadn't noticed the heavy, black industrial style shoes--Pockmark went to fetch a large wooden pitcher of water. She refilled the water bowl, using the rest to clean Leni with a rag from her pocket. Satisfied, they dressed her in stockings, halter, cheap girdle, skirt, blouse, stupid little cap. Leni wouldn't look at them, afraid she might be kissed again. Nothing fit. The blouse barely managed to stretch across her bust, the sleeves came down to cover her thumbs. The skirt ballooned out around her. When they were done, the two young harpies backed away, chortling and clapping their hands with delight. Taking the empty porridge bucket with them, they pranced off very pleased with themselves. As soon as she heard the lock click on the door, Leni flung everything off deciding only to keep the blouse, fixing it with the buttons below her breasts and rolling up the sleeves. The misshapen blouse came to mid thigh, covering her up alright. It felt better than being naked all the time.
The rest of the day and night passed awfully. Alone, still chained like an animal, she daydreamed about her childhood before the war. The family had been together then, always with heat, electricity, good food, no explosions. At mealtimes, her father would pour her a thimble of wine or beer. The kitchen smelled like onions and cabbage--school and family, family and school. She lamented everything so much. Why, how could this terrible war come about? All those she'd trusted...Why think about it? She only regretted not being in school, not finishing. She had looked forward to being of some use to others. She cried herself to sleep, feeling all was lost forever. Even if the General let her go, even if she saw her mother and father again, life in a destroyed city ruled by the Russians...she couldn't bear it.
Springing awake in the dark early morning hours, Leni restlessly tried to block the General from her mind. Would he come back? Why did she want him back? So he could torture her? Not that, no, only because he might be the only person who could get her out of there. She knew if she begged and begged, did what he wanted, he just had to let her go. She wondered what it might've been like if they'd met in another world, without the war. Would she still think of him at night? Certainly, she had never met anyone quite like him. Maybe that's why... She caressed herself because it made her feel better, pinching herself, imagining the General doing it, licking her fingers, pretending they were his. When she finally came, she laughed aloud at herself and slept.
She awoke with a start. Porridge time again. The two young hags--there was no other way to describe them--were upset. Seeing the beautiful uniform they'd brought strewn all over the floor brought screams of wrath. Leni stood up. Gathering the chain in her hand so they couldn't pull her down she advanced towards them. She towered over the wretches. With her other hand she quickly wrenched the pail of porridge away from them. Truly evil now she used both hands to hurl the swill all over them. Screaming all the Russian oaths they knew, shaking their fists, the two ran out the door, locking it behind them.
With a schoolgirl's glee Leni danced in the muck, jumping up and down until the porridge stuck to her feet, laughing hysterically at the way they had run from her, wiping her feet on the uniform skirt and under things. She hurled the damn shoes against the wall, laughing until she had to pause for air. Now what? she thought. The chain, get the damn chain off! She pulled and pulled, her long slim biceps rigid, her thigh and calf muscles like rocks. She felt around her neck for a weak link, a spot with a little slack in it. Pulling at each link again and again she found nothing, nothing that would give. It was hopeless. She cried in frustration, just curled up on the bed and cried. For hours she lay there, just staring at the wall.
That afternoon the General reappeared. He closed the door behind him, locking it, gloomily surveying the mess on the floor. Seeing him, she smiled. This is it, she thought, give it everything you've got.
"Why are you smiling?" he asked gruffly.
"I wanted to see you, mein herr," she said, chin down, eyes looking up at him in what she hoped was a come and get me expression.
"Well." He paused. "I want to see you too. Please stand up." He stood before her, reaching gently to the steel collar around her neck, unlocking it with a key from his pocket.
"Thank you, mein herr."
"You're welcome. What is your explanation for this mess?" he asked reasonably. "You have defiled the Russian uniform. Many of my friends have died wearing this uniform."
"I'm so sorry sir. Those girls gave me nothing but porridge once a day. One of them tried to kiss me in the bath! Then the uniform didn't fit. I've been all alone with them all this time just wondering if you would come see me. I am really, really sorry sir."
"I understand," he replied. His face always had such a hard look. Did he ever laugh? "But you Germans have lost the war. You need to be made to understand that for your own good."
"Of course sir, I'm so sorry sir," Leni prattled on, feeling the goosebumps again, wondering if she was getting anywhere with him.
The General put a finger to her lips. "You don't have to be sorry, Leni," he explained. "You just have to be punished." A matter of fact statement, said with a kindly tone, said with a reasonable expression.
"Oh," Leni said, wondering why she could not take the deep breath she wanted to. Making up her mind she whispered, "I guess there's no escaping it then, is there sir?"
"No," he said. "No there isn't. Please remove your blouse and kneel over there."
She knelt naked again, eyes down, hands on her thighs. He removed his tunic once more revealing his hairy chest and stomach, his incredibly toned body. From the large military style pockets he extracted several coils of rope and a whip, a whip with a polished wooden handle braided tightly with black, speckled snakeskin which grew into an intimidating two foot lash knotted at the tip. The whip, coiled in his pocket, sprang to its full length as he whistled it back and forth. Eyes wide open, Leni found herself following the whip through the air, noting the color, the sheen of it, the type of knot at the end. Satisfied with the whip, the General returned her stare. "I think this will do, eh?"
Wordless, she watched him lay the whip on the floor. He unwound a length of rope. "Please cross your wrists," he said. She did so, once again feeling the rough rope bite into her still raw wrists. Halfway through he whispered to himself, "No, not that." He removed the rope from her wrists telling her "Put your hands together. Interlock your fingers." She obeyed, her hands together like when she prayed in church. "Just so," the General remarked. He wound the rope around her thumb joints, lashing them together, next locking the index fingers at the joints, careful and patient, until each finger in turn painfully married the other. He finished with several turns of the rope around the whole, tugging to test his work. The other end of the rope went to the metal ring in the ceiling. Leni looked up, watching him work the rope, wondering if she could bear it.
Patting her knees gently apart he fixed each tightly to its own floor ring so the knees were more than two feet apart. Pulling slowly on the ceiling rope he took her straight up so her rump hung in the air, her knees barely touching the floor. At that height her fingers screamed with the pressure. "Sir you have me so tight!" Leni began. Forced to look down, Leni saw her ribs sticking out, her pussy wide open to the whip. She shuddered but made up her mind to survive, to live, to take it. Every joint hurt now. She breathed steadily and deeply, waiting.
He stood before her, pants off, boots off, his huge erection swaying above her. He tilted her chin up with one hand, grasping her silky hair with the other. She winced in the ropes with the movement. "Smell it." he ordered. She took a deep breath of his musk, feeling the sweat trickle between her breasts, her eyes wide at the sight of his beautiful cock. "Alright, little mouse," he whispered, "lick me, kiss me." With her tongue far out like a serpent's she licked and licked, kissing when she could, adoring him. My God, she thought. Oh my God.
He stepped back. Squeezing her mouth wide open he slipped the head of his cock between her lips. Leni couldn't take it. It was too big, too damn big. He rocked forward, breathing heavily, forcing his cock in until she coughed, gagged, shook him off.
Grabbing her jaw, he bent down to her ear to whisper, "This is something you need to learn. This is something I need to teach you." He released her. Breathing hard, Leni let the drool drip out of her mouth, ashamed. A moment later he took her mouth again, this time probing it with the butt end of the whip, roughly pushing it against the inside of her cheeks. Stepping back, he flicked the tip of the whip lightly against her breasts. It tickled a bit. Then he stepped behind her.
"Haie!" A high pitched pit of the stomach sob is the best way to describe the sound torn from Leni's body as the whip cut across her shoulders.
"Haie!" The whistle of the whip seemed simultaneous with the next burning sting. She gritted her teeth as the tears came, breathing hard, gathering energy for the next scream. But he took his time, running his iron hands over the quivering flesh of her thighs, softly stroking the velvet skin of her belly and breasts. This wasn't just flicking the end of a belt at an exhausted, if very beautiful girl, cruelly bound. This wasn't done to produce a brief sting and a red mark gone tomorrow. This announced ownership, a marking, a branding, with welts that might burn and sting for one or two weeks, some leaving delicate white lines on her flesh when they healed. Shivering at his slow, cruel touch, she groaned as he yanked her head back, kissing her mouth deeply. As he released her, Leni bit her lip hard, head hanging down, waiting.
"Haie!"
Oh God, take it, take it, take it, don't give in! she thought, but an adrenalin bullet shot through her, seizing her body and shaking it violently as she writhed in the ropes, trying to break free. He watched her patiently. He'd seen this before. She would soon be broken.
When her panic eased, she felt tired, her back in flames, the pain throbbing terribly with a unique heat. Would it stop? Was it over? Gathering her courage, she pulled against the rope torturing her hands, let her breath out, tried to get back on top.
"HAIEE!" The lash wrapped around her back leaving a vicious kiss on her breast.
Her voice quavering, Leni begged "BITTE MEIN HERR, ERBARME!!" meaning, Please sir have mercy, have mercy on me!
Sobbing uncontrollably, she heard the whip drop on the floor behind her. The General could only hope she'd learned the lesson she needed to know. He grabbed her mouth with thumb and forefinger. Leni twisted her face away, sobbing. He massaged both sides of her face, kissed her tears, ran both hands over her slick, sweat soaked body. When he kissed the welt on her breast, she flinched, but then felt a calm, a merciful languor take her in its arms. Pain blunted by an endorphin waterfall, a sultry lassitude overwhelmed her. She giggled weakly, surprisingly. Drunkenly, she raised her heavy eyelids, seeing his cock and giggling crazily. Who would believe this?
Gently, the General held her mouth wide with his thumbs. Slowly squeezing his cock between her puffy, swollen lips, he felt her mouth much more relaxed now. Leni felt it beginning to work, too. Yes, it was much easier now. As her mouth filled, her breath whistled like steam through her nostrils. Eager for him, she pushed forward a bit, easing his cock into her throat. Then her throat convulsed, gagging, closing on her! She couldn't breathe! Coughing and gurgling, she looked up at him. I can't breathe, she wanted to shout, but couldn't. The General withdrew, disappointed but understanding.
"Well, Leni," he said gently, "You are the boss alright? You can swallow me until I come or you can have five more strokes of the whip."
Throat still convulsing, she coughed and coughed, spitting drool. She knew she had to breathe. She just wanted to live. She had to be brave, that's all. She could only croak the answer. "Whip." She swallowed. "Whip please."
