Oberführer Turned My Life Around Ch. 02


He sneered. "But you can still serve the Riech, Pussi-boy." Bringen Sie ihn in die Baracken!

Take me to the barracks?

The guards hustled me out of the room, out of the building, across the parade ground, and into the soldiers' barracks. We continued on past the rows of cots, and I couldn't help but notice some of the men lounging on a few of them. Some were naked. Look at that guy. Wide shoulders, big chest, flat belly. And look at that weapon! A good 7". And look at that big nail-head of a cockhead! I licked my lips.

One of the naked soldiers got up from his cot, grabbed me, and pushed me backward. I fell to the floor. Oh, yes, oh, god, do it! Fuck me! PLEASE! I spread my legs wide-open and lifted my feet into the air.

I did love the feel of a big male mounting me. I stared down in delirious, eager expectation. His cock slid into my crack, and in desperate frustration I reached down and guided him to my seething hole. He pressed against my ass-ring, and with a mighty lunge, he slammed it in to the balls, and he looked in my eyes. I knew he wanted it to hurt -- it meant he was too big for me -- but he used no lube, and his insertion was dry and painful. "Anngh!"I croaked, writhing in pain, but I also almost came. I was so hot, so desperate, so aching for a good fucking, the man had rammed me to heaven.

Then he began his strokes, and I loved to look into his eyes, to see the animal wildness there, the dark lust and cruelty. His big cock, finally slick with my ass-juices, pummeled me into the Next Level of Existence. God, I love fucking! He was healthy and big, and he stretched me good and taut, giving me the needles-and-pins sensitivity and the shotgun thrills of pleasure with every stroke.

I was hot. Fever hot. I lunged my hips back at him, matching him stroke for stroke. Driving him in deeper, clapping our balls together to the point it almost became painful.

When both our climaxes appeared on the horizon, he looked down at me, and I knew who was truly the boss. A male was breeding me. I was his mate, part of his harem, his herd. The big, muscular soldier above me was a man using his cock, the master using the slave. No way was I in control. I was nothing. A hole. A piece of meat craving and eager to do his bidding. I was lucky I knew no military secrets. At that moment I would have done anything he wanted, said anything he wanted me to say, told him anything.

My whole body was begging him for it, and I was powerless to resist. I was his property. I wanted nothing more than to feel my hole wrapped around his penis, obediently squeezing it as hard as I could, willing every cell in my body to increase his pleasure.

My reward was a mind-blower of an orgasm! Stunning. Petrifying. I don't know if I remained conscious or not. All I remember was that everything flashed into a red haze, and I drowned in rapture. I could hardly breathe. Gradually I began to hear a roaring sound, and I realized I was screaming, my cock gushing cum in what felt like quarts. Then I felt the soldier get his gun, and as his sperm shot up into me, I actually got another orgasm. God, I really was a bitch! Multiple orgasms!

I wanted to stay connected with that man forever, and when he pulled out, I felt empty. Useless. But almost instantly I gasped as another German cock slammed into me for sloppy seconds. My head fell off the back of the bunk, and I got another uncut dong down my throat.

Sometime after midnight, after I don't know how many German soldiers had me, the guards took me to another building. The prison. They threw me through the gate, and I fell to the ground.

Two prisoners helped me to my feet. "Welcome to the Hilton, man," said one. God, Americans!

Suddenly I was very conscious of my nakedness. "They took your uniform away, man?"

"Yeah." Oh, God, I'm covered with smears of jizz, it's leaking out of my ass, and I know they can smell it on me. They looked at me sadly. "Let's see if we can find something for you to put on."

The other prisoners never said anything. Never accused me of anything. Never asked a single question about what happened to me before I joined them in the prison building.

About a week later, on a dark night after midnight, we were asleep when suddenly I felt a hand shaking me awake. I opened my eyes to a dazzling, blinding light. Someone was holding a flashlight in my face!

"Here he is," a voice grunted softly, and the next thing I knew, strong hands pulled me from the bed.

"General, sir . . . Special Ops team . . . here to rescue you!" I looked around. Six big men in black clothing, faces and hands blacked out with sooty grease, holding Tommy guns stood looking down at me.

"Wait!" I hissed. "The rest here are American, too!"

"Sorry, Sir. We're here just to get you."

I stood up tall. "Sergeant, I am giving you a direct order! You are to get every man out of here . . . or none!"

To cut a long story short, after some cursing and arguments, the Special Ops men got us all out. It took longer, and they were damned nervous, but every one of us got over the wall and ran down the path in the darkness. It worked. The truck waiting for us had to make two trips, but the second group waited silently in the trees until the truck came back.

As I rode in the back of the truck, one of the prisoners reached out and shook my hand. "Damn, you're a general? Sir?" He lowered his voice. "I think you're a hero. When I think of what those bastards must have . . . done . . . to you, I think it was a heroic sacrifice."

I said nothing. What could I say?

"I can promise you this, General. No one in this group will ever tell about anything that happened to you. Your secret will die with us."

The blacked-out plane waiting camouflaged a few miles away was big enough to load all of us . . . and so we made it back to Allied lines.

There I found myself in one hell of a bee's nest when they found out I was who I was, not who the Germans thought I was, and not who the rescue team thought I was. They rescued the wrong guy. They had to be "glad," of course. To act any other way would show such heroic rescue attempts were not for the average Joe soldier.

The other prisoners never found out I was not a general. I was given a Stateside assignment until the end of the war.

I have lived in shame since those days. I feel rotten to the core. I knew no secrets -- I revealed nothing to the enemy. But I would have. My life since then has been in a constant search for my self-respect.


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