Walther's Whore Ch. 01

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New commanding officer takes control of government brothel.
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chris 44
chris 44
106 Followers

The door opened, and one after another the twelve women shuffled into the room to be lined up along the far wall by the guards. Most of them lifted their eyes and snatched a nervous glance at the figure watching them from the sofa. Most of them that is, apart from the dark-haired little girl who stood nervously in the centre of the line and surrounded by the largest and tallest women in the group. It was a deliberate ploy designed to make her even more nervous than she already was. That sense of unease was clear in the way she hunched her body and continued to stare at the floor between her feet. The mere sight of her caused Walther's cock to harden in his tight uniform trousers. At that moment he felt as though he'd died and been reborn in paradise.

Once the women had settled, he ran a practiced eye along the line. They were a typical cross-section of the whores working on the government register at the time. Every one of them was barefoot and buck naked, apart from the broad leather belt fastened around their waist. An attractive bunch on the whole, they ranged in age from the late teens to the mid thirties and came in a variety of shapes, sizes and colours. Something for everyone thought Walther, and smiled to himself.

Much of his afternoon had been spent working through their personnel files, but he found the photographs cold and impersonal compared to the array of female flesh that now lined the wall, waiting for him to make his decision. It was the belts that made the difference he decided, the heavy black leather belts some two inches in width, locked round their waists and resting low on the curve of their hips. Walther found the effect strangely erotic. In a way it emphasised an acceptance to their fate.

Their arms had been secured in cuffs, and were hanging by their side, clipped tight against their belts. It was an arrangement that ensured their breasts and pussies were kept available for inspection at all times, both visual and manual and made them appear doubly vulnerable. Hardly surprising given the situation they were in.

From the looks they gave him, Walther suspected some of the women had been tipped off as to his identity, probably by the guards. The way they straightened their backs when his eyes turned in their direction rather gave them away. The way they tightened their breasts and stood before him with legs akimbo, and literally flaunted their sex at him.

"Choose me," their actions were telling him. He could read it clearly, even in the empty void of their eyes. "Choose me and you can fuck me as hard as you like."

"Too right I can," thought Walther, "and at least one of you ladies is going to have her wish fulfilled tonight. But the choice of who it will be is mine to make and not yours. Flaunt your sex at me all you like, you're still a bunch of whores, and when I tell you to spread your legs the only decision you have to make is how wide."

The new unit commander was God to both guards and inmates alike. His word was law, the difference between pleasure and pain, hunger and plenty, life and death. It was only natural they should be keen to impress, though they were wasting their time. Walther's choice had been made long before they shuffled their way through the door. The nervous, dark haired, little girl standing in the centre of the line and staring at her feet had been his choice from the moment he'd opened her file in the quiet of his office earlier that afternoon.

Her name was Hannah. It was her first appearance on the meat run, and she was clearly terrified at the prospect. Walther found himself feeding on her fear like a baby sucking on its mother's tit.

Only Christian names were used in the brothel system these days. Family names reminded the whores of the past that had brought them to this place, and gave them something to cling to as they suffered. The ones who hadn't opposed the party themselves were the wives, daughters, and girl friends of those who had. Snatched from the bosom of their families, and forced to provide sexual favours for the great and the good of the ruling hierarchy.

'Pour encourager les autres' was the byword of the brothel system, though it was a flawed and faulty system at best. The message it tried to proclaim in its routine humiliation of women was supposed to be a clear one. 'Continue to oppose the party, and your females will be the ones to suffer.' In reality the message it broadcast to an increasingly paranoid nation was more along the lines of 'unless you are a party follower, you are worthless to our cause.'

Once taken into custody, the women were forced to open their legs and fuck every person they were offered to in the ultimate act of degradation. Forced to provide sexual pleasure to party supporters, day after day after day, until their will to resist was eroded away and they became automatons, opening their legs every time a man so much as looked at them. In many cases they evolved into the human equivalent of Pavlov's dogs; offering their bodies willingly in exchange for the gift of survival.

Of course there were always those who'd refuse to play the party game, but their fate soon persuaded others not to follow that example. Their stay in the brothels tended to be both short and painful. The whores would be forced to stand and watch as the guards were turned loose on the offender. 'No' wasn't a word the guards really understood, unless it came as a part of the phrase 'No quarter'. And when the guards lust was finally sated, what was left of the women would be shipped out to the gang masters and forced to serve out their days as whores in the prison system.

Walther looked across and nodded at the guards, it was time for the parade of shame to get under way. The guard bared his teeth and grinned back at him in an overly familiar manner that threatened to grate on Walther's nerves.

"Stand up straight ladies," said the guard, "get those shoulders back and give the major a clear view of your tits and your fannies. Help him decide which of you lucky cunts he's going to fuck tonight." He jerked his thumb and the first of the women shuffled her way to the centre of the room.

Walther did his best to ignore him, concentrating instead on the first of the women. She was a dumpy little redhead in her early twenties who stopped and shook her tits at him like a ten-bob tart, before turning in a full circle, allowing him to assess her potential from every conceivable angle. When she spread her legs and leant back, Walther caught a flash of pink amongst her trimmed ginger pubes. She wasn't bad looking, but she wasn't what he needed tonight and he waved her away, turning his eyes to the dark haired little girl in the middle of the row.

"Tell me again," he said, addressing the guard. "How many of these cunts can I fuck tonight?" His language was deliberately harsh, and his eyes remained fixed on Hannah as he assessed her reaction. She shivered slightly, but her head remained bowed.

"How many can you cope with?" came the reply.

"I'm not sure," said Walther, "I'll probably take a couple of them tonight, and give them a really hard time. It's just a matter of which ones to choose, personally I like them young and petite."

Again he saw her shiver, a sight that caused his cock to crawl in his pants. But still Hannah's eyes remained stubbornly downcast. They stayed that way as, one by one, the woman took their walk of shame, accompanied by the guard's inane chatter.

"I'm sure we'll have something to suit your taste Major. You can take all twelve if you like, though you're right, you probably wouldn't do them justice. Two is a good number to start with. Take them for the night, fuck 'em as long as you like and, then force them to fuck each other. They will you know, filthy whores. They'll fuck each other like a pair of polecats if you tell 'em to. They know it's the only way they're going to get fed you see."

The women fascinated Walther; the way they'd adapted to the sea change in their circumstances. He watched them with a strange mixture of disgust and desire as they did their best to seduce him with their belted bodies. This group was no different from all the others he'd seen over the years.

Displaying them a dozen at a time was about the right number he felt, as long as they had some idea of the client's likes and dislikes. More than a dozen and there was a chance that uncertainty might come creeping in; not that Walther had any uncertainty about his choice. As he said, he liked his women young and petite, with perky little breasts and tight little buttocks. He'd long held a theory that smaller breasts were more sensitive than the larger, pendulous variety. It was a theory he'd be testing to the full in the long hours of the coming night.

One by one the women were waved across the room and, one by one, they exhibited their bodies in front of him before returning to the wall to await his decision. The guard was continually trying to assert his authority over the women, and succeeded only in confirming Walther's suspicion that he would shortly find himself seeking alternative employment.

One by one the women swayed across the room and performed their party piece before returning to the wall. The second in line was slightly older than the redhead. She had dyed blonde hair and a decent figure, despite the faint stretch marks on her belly and upper thighs that hinted strongly of childbirth. Rather than spoil her looks, they added a suggestion of femininity to her already considerable charms.

And still they came. Some looked nervous, others looked eager, almost desperate in their desire to attract his attention. Number five just looked blasé and even slightly bored as she performed her routine efficiently enough, but without sparkle. For a moment Walther found himself wondering whether a low voltage cattle prod applied in the right spots would add some much needed zip to her performance.

She was a tall coloured girl who'd obviously worked out on a regular basis in her previous life. Her full breasts seemed almost as toned as the well-defined muscles on her stomach, thighs and calves. Walther could smell the latent sexuality on her as she prowled across the room towards him, parting her legs and displaying the shaven labial lips that decorated her thighs. In different circumstances she might have been his choice, an interesting one perhaps judging by her build, but definitely a challenge. One in which the rewards would far outweigh the risks.

The guard was chattering away like the baboons in the zoo he was clearly related to. Walther had stopped listening to him long ago; his attention was centred on the next in line, the dark-haired little girl. The guard growled and she looked up at him. Quickly he flicked his hand at her, indicating it was time for her to display her body. Her eyes dropped back to the floor and she began to shuffle her way across the room.

"Stop." Walther's voice cut through the sullen silence like the crack of a whip and halted the girl in her tracks. She continued to stare at the floor, though he could see her hands trembling in their restraints.

"Look at me whore. Stand up straight and look at me while I'm talking to you."

Startled by the anger in his voice, Hannah raised her head and stared at him with a look of hypnotised horror on her face. The photographs didn't come close to doing her justice. She had a pretty face though today it was rather on the pale side, and her eyes were black as night. Little more than 5 ft in height, she was slender bordering on skinny. A week of decent meals should fill her out nicely. Her long, dark hair came tumbling over her shoulders stopping short of a pair of tits no bigger than oranges; their aureolas tipped off by hard little nipples, dark brown in colour.

Nestling between her thighs, below the thick leather belt, the thatch of shiny black hair seemed somewhat out of place on a girl of her seemingly tender years. Yet it was her fear that tipped the scales for Walther, even more than her pleasing appearance. The girl was clearly terrified of what might be about to happen. For a brief moment she fought his will and lost as she was bound to do. Her whole body sagged and her bright black eyes dropped back to the floor.

"Look at me you little cunt, not the floor. I want to know your name."

The girl looked up and mumbled something, but so quietly that he couldn't tell what she was saying. Again his response was aggressive and insulting.

"Speak up whore, we haven't got all night."

"Hannah sir," she said a little louder this time. When her eyes lifted back to his, he was pleased to see a flash of anger in them. Good, she still had some spirit left.

"And how old are you Hannah?"

"Eighteen sir." Walther snorted his disbelief.

"Like hell you are." Walther was yelling at her now, dominating her from the first. "Do you take me for an idiot? You're no more than fourteen are you whore? Fifteen at the most."

Her head began to shake.

"No, no. I'm eighteen sir, honestly."

The spark in her eyes grew brighter, almost emphasised by her pale face and delicate features. That flash of defiance in one so inexperienced excited him; crooking his finger he ordered her to come closer, an order she seemed reluctant to comply with at first, though slowly she obeyed. Suddenly irritated by her continued nervousness, he lunged forward, grabbing her belt and pulling her between his legs. Cupping her buttocks with both hands, he began to massage them gently before looking across at the guard in time to catch the look of disappointment on his face.

"How long has this one been here?" he asked. "How many times has she been fucked so far?" He felt her squirm uneasily beneath his hands in response to his question.

"She hasn't." Walther heard the disappointment in the guard's voice and knew that he'd had plans of his own for Hannah. Until now Walther hadn't been a part of that plan; foolish of him to let his disappointment show so clearly. Desperately the guard tried to repair the damage. "Ask her if you like. She's only been with us a couple of days, came here from eastern France. Her family was caught trying to cross the border illegally."

Walther switched his attention back to the girl, and gave her an unconvincing smile. The look on her face told him she suspected the worst.

"Well Hannah, it looks as though it's your lucky night." He indicated the guard and was pleased to see the look of horror on her face. "Our friend here hoped to make you his plaything tonight, but instead you've been chosen to whore for me, you and one other. Come and sit on my knee little one and help me choose your companion."

Instinctively she backed away, but Walther had anticipated her reaction. His hand slipped round her waist and dragged her onto his knee, perching her there like a ventriloquist's dummy. Hannah's legs clamped together but he smiled and shook his head.

"Oh no little one, I can't allow you to do that. You're not playing by the rules. I want your legs spread wide. Let everyone get a good look at your cunt."

Shifting in his seat, he reached out his hand and slowly parted her legs. When she tried to resist, he slapped her little breasts sharply, relishing her sharp yelp of surprise. When his hand returned to the parting of her legs she didn't fight him, though the jerky uncertainty of her breathing betrayed her fear.

Once his hand was running freely up and down her thigh, he shifted position. Only slightly, but enough to open up her sex to the eager eyes of the tall, well built blonde waiting her turn to parade across the room.

Lisl was several years older than Hannah, some six inches taller and built in proportion. A natural blonde, she came from the north countries where natural blondes were ten a penny. The most interesting item Walther had gleaned from her file was the fact that Lisl had a penchant for nubile young girls. Girls just like the one sitting on his knee, displaying her sex so freely. Judging by the look on Lisl's face, the information in her file had been accurate. He nodded at her.

"Your turn blondie," he said.

As she walked across the room, Walther reached his hand between Hannah's legs and began to finger her pussy. Instinctively Hannah's body twitched, her legs closed, and she tried to twist away from him. This time, her reward was a sharp crack across her belly and every pair of eyes in the room, bar one, were suddenly fixed on her. The exception was Walther's; he was more interested in watching Lisl's reaction to the girl's punishment. Though she did her best to disguise it, Walther caught the fleeting glimpse of pleasure in her face as the sound of the slap echoed around the room. More roughly this time, he parted Hannah's legs again, and continued to finger her sex.

"Stop fighting me you little bitch."

His words were aimed at Hannah, but his eyes were still watching the tall blonde in the centre of the room. "Relax, and open your legs girl, let me get my fingers right in."

Reluctantly the girl did as she was told, though not quickly enough for Walther's satisfaction. "Wider," he insisted, "get those legs wider damn you. You're my bitch tonight and when I tell you to open your legs you'll fucking well do it. Christ, if I tell you to get down on your knees and suck the guard's cock, you'll do that as well. The only thing I'll want to hear from you Hannah is 'yes master, how many times?'"

He could feel her body trembling as he worked his finger between her labial lips and on into her vagina. She was damp, but no more than that; Walther was disappointed. He'd hoped to find her moist and receptive, as though eager to welcome his cock inside her. Clearly Hannah wasn't happy; the look on her face suggested she'd rather chew a lemon and, without warning, Walther switched his attention to the blonde.

"What are you looking at blondie?" he growled. "Anyone would think you wanted to get your fingers into this little bitch. What's your name?"

The flash of red on her cheeks betrayed the blonde's unease.

"Lisl," she muttered.

"Lisl what?" roared the major. He was half hoping she'd give her family name by mistake, but she regained her composure just in time.

"Lisl sir." She was still muttering and Walther stayed on the attack.

"Speak up Lisl," he said, "you sound more like a girly girl than a full blown dyke."

The look that shot across her face was a delightful mixture of fear and horror.

"Are you denying you're a dyke?" he asked. Lisl considered his question for a second before shaking her head. "And what do you think of the little lady sitting on my knee?" he went on.

"She's alright," said Lisl. There was the briefest of pauses and then, "if you like that sort of thing."

"Oh but I do Lisl, I like this sort of thing a lot. That's something you and I have in common isn't it? You'd just love to get your hands on Hannah wouldn't you?

When she didn't give him an answer Walther asked the question again and this time got his reply.

"Yes sir." Lisl was looking decidedly nervous, and Walther kept her on the back foot.

"What would you say if I offered to share her with you?" he asked. The way she looked at him showed she thought it was a trap, and her hesitancy betrayed her.

"I...I..."

"It's a simple enough question Lisl. I fuck her first; then you can have her for a while. I'd like to watch you induct her into the rituals of the Sapphic sisterhood." For Hannah's benefit he made it sound like a session with the Spanish Inquisition.

Right away the younger girl tried to drag herself off his knee. As Walther suspected, she wasn't as naïve as she appeared. Certainly she wouldn't be a virgin, the border guards would have seen to that the night she was caught with her family. They saw it as a perk of the job. From the way Hannah struggled he wondered whether Lisl hadn't already made her acquaintance. From a distance maybe she had, but they'd only have been suggestions made from a nearby cell. Graphic promises of what Hannah could expect if Lisl ever did get hold of her. For that reason Hannah had been kept in a cell of her own ever since her arrival, even so the threats had been enough to unnerve her.

chris 44
chris 44
106 Followers
12