PB-101 Slaves Of The Uhlans
By A. de Granamour


Fiction based on history—a tale all too probable to be dismissed as 
fantasy. Sex-crazed soldiers use women of an occupied village to sate their
sado-erotic lusts. The naive and the innocent learn of man's most sadistic 
cravings. The virginal and uninitiated find themselves naked and submissive
before their captors performing acts which they had never imagined 
possible. There is neither a woman or young girl immune to the depravities 
visited upon this unfortunate town—none is too high born, nor low born. All
become the unwilling slaves of the Uhlans.


CHAPTER ONE

It had been a scorching August day, and the men of the Fifth Regiment of 
Uhlans, commanded by Oberst Ernst von Bruckmann, were as weary as their 
horses after a day of hard riding to occupy Colmar in Alsace-Lorraine. To 
begin with, the officers of this prize body of Prussian cavalry were 
disgusted with their orders from the General Staff which committed them to 
an occupation of a provincial town far from France itself, when their 
compatriots had already won gloriously resounding victories near Sedan and 
Rouen, that feudal city where the legendary Joan of Arc was betrayed by the
Burgundians and delivered over to the English to be burned at the stake as 
a sorceress. And of these officers, the elegant young Junker nobleman, 
Kapitan Heinrich von Luber, was the most indignant and outspoken against 
the inglorious role which his regiment had been assigned.

"To der Teufel with the General Staff, my dear Franz," he was bitterly 
complaining to the affable young blonde horseman who rode alongside him as 
they crossed into the town square preparatory to establishing their billets
in the homes of the leading residents. "There are either medals nor honor 
to be won so far from the battlefield. My saber arm is restless, and its 
muscles will wither away if I do not soon wield it on those verdammte 
Frenchmen who dare to question the supremacy of our glorious Deutschland!"

"I'm sure it's only a temporary assignment, Heinrich," Leutnant Franz von
Wollenz smilingly retorted. At twenty-four, his father a highly respected 
Junker baron from Dusseldorf, with two younger brothers and a beautiful 
sixteen-year-old sister who had already shown exceptional talent as a 
pianist at the Dusseldorf Conservatory, Franz von Wollenz was liked by all 
his colleagues. Sturdy, with smiling blue

eyes and a more placid even disposition than most of his Junker comrades,
he secretly had little stomach for war, and would have preferred to have 
returned to Dusseldorf to wed his fiancee, the capricious and lighthearted 
Greta Imhoff, to whom he sent a lengthy letter each day, attesting his 
constancy and devotion to her.

"I wish I had your optimism, Franz," Heinrich von Luber grumbled, tugging
at his neatly waxed black moustache. He was twenty-eight, tall and rangy of
build, with sardonic features, wore a monocle and, if his orderly Korporal 
Klaus Purburter could be believed, was an insufferable and cruel bastard 
who liked to show off his authority. "About all we can hope for is that 
some of these French swine who fester Alsace-Lorraine will revolt against 
us so that we can punish them and put them to the sword as they deserve. If
I had my way, I'd hale every Frenchman in this wretched little town before 
a firing squad and make sure short order of them, you can depend on that, 
Franz."

Although Heinrich von Luber held the rank of captain and Franz von 
Wollenz the rank beneath him as only a first lieutenant, the former found 
it politically shrewd to patronize the younger man and to cultivate his 
friendship. He, like most of the German General Staff, believed that the 
war against the verdammte French would not last more than a year at most. 
And to have as a good friend the son of a wealthy baron might be very 
useful. Although von Luber himself could boast of as ancient and honorable 
a lineage (his own father, who had died a year ago of a stroke, had been 
named to the rank of Count by a grateful Kaiser), the fact was that his 
family fortunes were nearly gone. For Heinrich von Luber was a profligate, 
and an inveterate gambler, and he had induced his disgusted father to buy 
him a commission in the Uhlan regiment in which he now rode so arrogantly 
into the city of Colmar this oppressively hot and humid day.

But there was one more reason why the arrogant and sadistic monocled 
Kapitan wished to be especially close to the smiling blond lieutenant: 
Franz von Wollenz's pianistically gifted sister, Kathe, was one of the most
delicious pieces of kootzele the womanizing von Luber had ever met. He'd 
coveted her, ever since the day when she had come with Franz's dignified 
old father to the parade grounds at Mainz just before this wretched little 
war had broken out. And Heinrich von Luber had told himself, "Now that's 
for you, Heinrich boy. But you can't take that little bitch and fling her 
down on the floor of the barn or on a sofa and hoist her skirt and 
petticoats and rip her drawers off, not the way you'd do with some little 
Kellerin at a bierstube. No, my boy, you've got to be more tactful and 
polished, you've got to make her head spin till she's wildly in love with 
you, when all the time her little kootzele is tickling till she's crazy 
from it. Then you ask for her hand in marriage, you get the pleasure of 
fucking her all you please until you can get tired of her, and that way, 
when the old Baron von Wollenz kicks the bucket, you, Heinrich von Luber, 
will be able to afford anything you want."

The monocled black-haired wastrel was planning to kill Franz von Wollenz,
to make it look like an accident, because he was a scheming opportunist. 
He'd seen how old Baron von Wollenz had cherished his son that day at the 
parade grounds. He'd even heard the old Baron pat Franz on the back and say
in a choked voice, "Mein Sohn, be very careful. I know that as a Junker 
officer, you can have no taint of cowardice against your manhood. But there
is going to be a war soon, or I miss my guess. With the

stupid, scheming French. Oh, well rout them, never fear, thanks to sturdy
fellows like you. But I'm an old man, and my health is failing, Franz, and 
if anything happened to you, I don't know whom I could count on to take 
care of dear little Kathe."

Yes, Kapitan Heinrich von Luber was quite pleased with himself, and even 
the withering August heat didn't bother him as his fine white stallion 
tossed its head and trotted proudly along the cobblestones.

There was going to be a little accident one of these days soon, and then 
he'd get leave from the Oberst, go back to Dusseldorf and console the old 
Baron, tell him how his dear Franz died gloriously for the Vaterland. And 
then he'd have a chance to console golden-haired, sweet, pinkskinned little
Kathe. It wouldn't be long before he'd get her to bed legally, or course. 
And he'd have his share of the von Wollenz fortune. Yes, it was going to be
a very enjoyable war!

CHAPTER TWO

Oberst Ernst von Bruckmann dismounted from his black stallion, and tossed 
the reins to his orderly, Korporal D'iedrich Hafflemeier.-"Be sure you give
Prinz a good rubdown and plenty of oats, Hafflemeier," he authoritatively 
commanded, drawing off his light leather gloves and twirling his elegantly 
waxed mustache, the ends of which had been neatly curled. "I shall take 
over this fine mansion for my own quarters as well as for the Herr Major 
von Lorchbau, verstehel You'll tell him to bring along the Herr Major's 
effects, and, naturlich, be so good as to ask the Herr Major to finish his 
duties so that he can join me in a glass of Schnapps."

"Zu befehl, mein Oberstl" the stocky, sandy-haired orderly clicked his 
heels and saluted smartly.

The Oberst was fifty-one, with the inherited title of Graf from a 
province in East Prussia, where for centuries his forebearers had held high
rank in the military forces under the aggressive Emperors. His grandfather,
indeed, had been a Feld-Marschall with a silver baton awarded him on the 
battlefield by the Kaiser himself for incomparable valor in routing an 
attack directed by an ambitious Swedish mercenary. He believed, as did many
of the Junkers in his regiment, that his right to rule was God-given; that 
the military force alone was capable of leadership of the nation, and that 
severe and stringent measures were always justified in suppressing the 
possibility of revolt.

In an age when profligacy was notorious, the Oberst was even more 
distinguished than his fellow officers. At the age of thirteen he had 
coerced his handsome twenty-five-year-old governess to initiate

him into manhood by sharing his bed. Using a riding crop, warning her 
that he would tell his father that she had tried to seduce him-an act 
which, under the civil government which then existed, would have meant a 
public whipping and at least two years' imprisonment in a woman's 
reformatory-he compelled the tearful and terrified blonde woman to service 
him whenever his precocious lust demanded. Fraulein Elsa Glogau endured 
this martyrdom for two agonizing years, during which she was compelled to 
practice every known perversion on her sexually imaginative young charge. 
His usual preface to a clandestine night of tyranny and sadism was, once 
she had come pale and trembling to his room and locked the door behind her,
to order her to strip naked except for her stockings, to kneel down and 
take out his prick and suck it to a turgidity adequate for possessing 
either her quim or her anus. It had not taken Fraulein Elsa Glogau long to 
comprehend that the slightest hesitation or repugnance would mean a severe 
thrashing with the riding crop; after the first week of her surrender to 
this sadistic boy, she had timidly implored him not to bugger her. He had 
gagged her by a torn strip of her own petticoat, another strip bound around
her lips and knotted at the back of her neck, and then tied her by the 
wrists to the bedpost and given her thirty lashes of the riding crop on her
naked, plump white bottom until she had hysterically capitulated.

Upon his father's death some five years later, Ernst von Bruckmann was 
left with a sizeable fortune, a home which had originally been a medieval 
castle on the banks of the Mainz River, and the rank of Uberleutnant. Even 
at the age of twenty, Ernst von Bruckmann was already stockily built and a 
lover of good food and drink. But he was also an excellent horseman and an 
expert with the saber. Moreover, his inherited title of nobility assured 
him a promising future in the Uhlan regiment of which his own father had 
been the Kommandant. His mother had died when he was only ten.

A year later Ernst von Bruckmann took unto himself a bride, the 
nineteen-year-old daughter of the ailing and impoverished Graf Heinz von 
Eldermann. Amelia von Eldermann was a shy and almost ethereal girl, with 
chestnut hair, tall but with sumptuous titties and a voluptuous behind 
whose undulating and provocative mobility not even the tightest bustle 
could hide. She dabbled in poetry, played the harpsichord, and loved 
nature, and she had married Ernst von Bruckmann greatly against her will 
but out of love and loyalty for her father. For he had begged her to accept
the coarse, stocky young suitor in order to save their estate, which was 
greatly in danger of bankruptcy. Amelia, out of such a poetic nature as she
was, devoutly believed that her sacrifice was blessed by heaven and that 
with her own gentle ways she could soften the obdurate and viciously 
selfish nature of her young husband. In this hope, she was destined to have
no more success than if she had found a wild leopard in the forest and 
brought it home with the intention of gentling it into a household cat.

Her bridegroom's first nuptial act was to receive her naked on the bridal
bed-she, who had never before seen a man unclothed, and whose timid mother 
had only vaguely hinted at what was expected by a husband of his-wife and 
to command that she undress at once and show her proof of obedience by 
bowing her head and kissing his cock until he would deign to take her 
maidenhead.

Scandalized by this gross behavior, Amelia stoutly refused and tearfully 
declared that she would go to her own room and expect an apology from him 
the next day when he had better control of himself.

With a burst of laughter, Ernst von Bruckmann leaped out of bed, seized 
the horrified young beauty, ripped her thick and opaque nightgown and robe,
and flinging her on the bed, seized his riding crop and began to whip her 
naked bottom and thighs until hysterically, she entreated him for mercy and
weepingly agreed to submit to his vile indignities.

That marriage lasted three years, by which time Amelia's father had died 
of a stroke and left his son-in-law inordinately rich beyond his dreams; it
was true that Amelia's father had little money, but he owned a magnificent 
estate. This Amelia's husband at once seized and promptly sold to a wealthy
merchant.

Then he. hired a sluttish auburn-haired housekeeper of thirty, Magda 
Rohrbach, whom he made his mistress openly before his horrified and 
sensitive young wife.

One evening, after he had imbibed a great deal of Moselle and when Magda 
was in his bedchamber naked save for her shift, he pulled the bellrope and 
ordered one of the young maids (with whom he was on equally intimate sexual
terms) to go summon Amelia. When the girl reported that her mistress was 
indisposed and sent her apologies, Ernst von Bruckmann guffawed with 
salacious laughter: "Listen, you little Dime" he told the frightened young 
Elsveta, "You tell her if she doesn't come, I'll have her brought here by 
force and she won't like that one bit. And also, that I'll give her eine 
gutes Schlagen on the naked Arsch in front of Magda. You go back and bring 
her or it will be your Arsch, Elsveta, that I'll thrash!"

The unfortunate young wife, drying her tears, clad herself in robe and 
shift and, her face composed and summoning as much dignity as she could, 
went along with the young flaxen-haired maid, who had guilefully told 
Amelia that if the mistress didn't come back with her, the master had 
promised her a good sound thrashing. To save the girl this punishment, 
Amelia decided to confront Ernst von Bruckmann and, once and for all, to 
tell him that she meant to bring proceedings for a divorce and to reclaim 
her father's castle and estate.

However, foreseeing this revolt, the dissolute young Junker had summoned 
two more of the young maids with whom he had populated the castle in which 
he lived like a virtual master of a Turkish seraglio. And when Amelia von 
Bruckmann, trembling and in a low voice, informed him that she was finished
with him as his wife and that she wanted nothing better than to put as much
distance between his odious self and her person as possible, he burst into 
a roar of bawdy laughter and commanded the

two maids and Elsveta to seize and strip her naked, under pain of their 
own severe expiation if they failed the task.

Amelia von Bruckmann was stripped naked and dragged to a low armchair, 
before which she was made to kneel while two of the maids held her wrists, 
Elsveta at Ernst von Bruckmann's command, spanked Amelia's lovely, 
upstandingly rounded carnation-tinted bottomcheeks with the flat of her 
hand, much as a child would be punished. Half fainting with shame and 
mortification at this annihilating treatment, Amelia in vain besought the 
maids to release her. But they feared Ernst von Bruckmann far more and so 
they ignored her pleas. After her bottom was red from the handspanking by 
Elsveta, Amelia's martyrdom was continued by Ernst von Bruckmann himself. 
He had his auburn-haired mistress Magda strip naked and sprawl herself in 
the armchair, as poor Amelia was forced down on her knees on the floor, her
wrists gripped by two of the maids, while her husband took his stance 
behind the lovely, gentle aristocrat, the riding crop in his gloved hands. 
"Now then, you fastidious bitch," he greedily announced, "you're going to 
kiss and suck and tongue Magda's kootezle, do you understand me? I may tell
you Amelia, that hers has given me far more satisfaction in bed than yours 
ever will. Perhaps by acquainting yourself with your rival's lovehole, you 
may possibly acquire a little more skill so that I will suffer your 
presence here as my wife."

Even the maids were aghast at this scurrilous degradation of the 
sensitive and reticent young blonde woman, but of course they dared not 
brook Ernst von Bruckmann's wrath. In a dying voice, Amelia vowed she would
rather die than yield to such an abomination. His answer was a hoarse laugh
and the mocking comment, "You sound like a heroine out of Schiller, my dear
wife! But we shall see if Die Peitsche won't have the last word!"

With this, he had begun to slash her naked bottom with the leather riding
crop, while the unfortuante young woman shrieked and twisted violently in 
the grip of the maids. Magda reached down and, thrusting her fingers into 
the chestnut hair of the unfortunate naked victim, dragged Amelia's face 
closer toward her hairy Venus. But Amelia compressed her lips and ground 
her teeth, preferring to die under the whip rather than to submit to this 
obscenity.

Ernst von Bruckmann lowered the riding crop and slashed it up between the
quaking, burningly striped cheeks of his young wife's naked bottom, 
attacking her cunt. A frenzied shriek was torn from the young woman, as she
tugged madly at her wrists, twisting about on her knees and looking back at
her executioner as she hysterically implored mercy. Coldly, without a word,
he lowered the crop again and thrice more cut the leather thong up into her
sensitive cunt, till at last she frantically capitulated. And then he bade 
her gamahuch Magda according to his instructions, flicking her squirming 
and flinching bottom with the riding crop to compel her continued 
submission till his mistress showed signs of approaching orgasm.

Then, ordering Elsveta to strip naked, he had the two maids holding his 
wife drag her down onto her back on the floor, and pull her arms out in 
cross as they knelt while Elsveta mounted over her and, mouth to mouth and 
cunt to cunt, taught the moaning and half-swooning young wife the salacious
joys of tribastic pussy-rubbing.

The next day, Amelia von Bruckmann flung herself into the Mainz River. 
Ernst von Bruckmann, scarcely six months after his young wife's suicide, 
married Magda to the loudly voiced disapproval of his aristocratic 
neighbors for which he gave not a tinker's damn. But his sadism remained 
unchecked, and eventually Magda left him after seven years of marriage to 
find refuge and content with a middleaged farmer whose sexual desires were 
quite unimaginative in comparison with her former husband's brutal and 
debauched whims.

Ernst von Bruckmann brought divorce proceedings against his runaway 
Magda, and decided to remain unencumbered for the remainder of his days. To
his castle he brought a continuing number of attractive young peasant 
girls, whom he proceeded to flog and torture and violate without stint. Yet
he was as valorous a soldier on the battlefield as he was a sadist in his 
bedchamber and in the dungeons of the lordly castle to which he retired 
during furloughs. Thus it was that he came to lead the vaunted Fifth Uhlan 
Regiment. And since he despised the French yet admitted that their women 
were devilishly attractive, he was to begin a reign of terror in Colmar in 
which his fellow officers would participate, imbued with that mystical aura
of ruthless power which seems to be singularly unleashed during the 
amorality of war and rebellion, pestilence and chaos.

Little did the occupants of the fine mansion whose knocker he now so 
belligerently seized and struck in summons dream of what atrocities would 
be visited on their females-for this was the house of the Burgomeister of 
Colmar himself, the worthy Georg Drucker, his handsome forty-one-year-old 
wife Klara, his two teenaged daughters, the sixteen-year-old Marlene and 
the nineteen-year-old Linda. But these were not the only females who were 
to feel the lubricious cruelty of Obert Ernst von Bruckmann; there were 
four attractive maids and a buxom thirty-five-year-old housekeeper who 
would also be subjected to Junker lust.

CHAPTER THREE

Frau Agatha Blumberg answered the clamorous blows of the knocker upon the 
door of her employer's house, her eyes wide with alarm, and gasped at the 
sight of the portly Oberst who confronted her, his

Uhlan helmet held stiffly atop his head by the leather strap under his 
fat jowls, his face florid with annoyance at having had to wait to be 
admitted.

"Woman, I am Oberst Ernst von Bruckmann, in command of the Fifth Uhlans. 
I have commandeered this house for myself and for the Herr Major Ludwig von
Lorchbar, my second in command. Go tell your master that I must see him at 
once! Sclinell!" With this, he slashed at his uniformed trousered thigh 
with the pommel of his riding crop, glowering at the buxom housekeeper. But
at the same time, he felt a pleasant tingle of anticipation in his crotch 
at the sight of her magnificent Butzen and, when she hastily turned to 
scurry down the hall to summon her master, the spacious and opulent 
contours of an Arsch as appetizing as any he had seen in many a month.

The flustered blonde housekeeper, her face crimson with exertion and 
fear, hastened to the study where kindly Georg Drucker, the mayor of 
Colmar, was busy reading to his lovely sixteen-year-old daughter Marlene, 
trying to help her understand a phase of German history in which she knew 
she would be questioned with the coming school term which opened in 
September.

History, alas, was not Marlene's favorite or best subject; she was 
something of a tomboy, black-haired, slim, with her pert, impudent face and
uptilted little nose, gray-green eyes, and a healthy tawny complexion which
women twice her age envied her and which was derived from a great deal of 
outdoor sports such as horseback riding, which she dearly loved.

She was only slightly interested in boys, but had a secret crush on Hugo 
Reimer, a gentle, softspoken and bespectacled person who so courteously 
delivered the dispatches to her illustrious father the Burgermeister. He 
was twenty-seven, living with his aging mother at the edge of town, and was
deathly afraid of girls, though secretly he yearned in his passionate 
nocturnal dreams to have some beautiful maiden care for him and love him 
deeply. He was ashamed to admit that during these dreams he sometimes had 
emissions, and had to remake his own bed lest his mother find out and scold
him as if he was a little boy all over again. He also considered Marlene a 
most delicious nymph though he disapproved of her brash candor and her 
outspoken manner. If Marlene could have suspected that the object of her 
affection dreamed of fucking her, things might have been very different in 
the Drucker household. And perhaps the supreme irony of fate was that 
because Hugo Reimer had never dared to admit his infautation for the slim 
black-haired adolescent, all the females in the Drucker household were to 
be doomed to the lust of the Junkers....

"Excuse me, dear Marlene," the Mayor smiled gently at his provocative 
younger daughter. "I must go welcome these illustrious soldiers of the 
Fatherland."

"But Papa," Marlene pouted, "why do you say Fatherland? Are not there 
good fine French people in Colmar as well as Germans?"

Burgermeister Georg Drucker put his finger to his lips. "Be careful, 
child," he said softly. "While the German soldiers are here, you must say 
absolutely nothing about the French."

There were many old French families throughout Alsace-Lorraine, and many 
here in the city of Colmar.

Assuredly they had no sympathy whatsoever with the arrogant Junker 
regiment that had forced itself into their midst. As he walked out to the 
salon to meet the Oberst, he was telling himself that he must call a 
meeting of the council and urge everyone to remain indoors and to do 
nothing that would in any way incite this German force to retaliate.

Oberst Ernst von Bruckmann was pacing up and down, his monocle adjusted, 
and when the gray -haired, kindly-faced Burgermeister entered he whirled 
and growled, "Verdamnte, you certainly took your time, Herr Burgermeister!"

"I beg your pardon, mein Oberst," Georg Drucker apologetically inclined 
his head. "I was occupied with my daughter Marlene. You will forgive me, I 
trust. How can I be of service?"

"That's better," said the portly regi mental commander with a sneering 
smile. "As you know, the Fifth Uhlan Regiment, which I have the honor of 
commanding, has been sent to Colmar by the General Staff to preserve order 
in this province until we exterminate the French. My orders are to occupy 
your city, Herr Burgermeister, and to make certain that the sympathies of 
your people are with the winning cause-that of the Fatherland!" With this, 
he tucked his booted heels together and stiffened, an elegant sneer on his 
fat face. Controlling the tone of his voice to make it sympathetic and 
cordial, he inclined his head and replied, "Naturally, my house will be at 
your disposal, Herr Oberst. I should like permission, if you will allow me,
to call a meeting of my council. I should like to proclaim to our citizens 
the news of your being stationed here and appeal to them to show towards 
you the friendliness and hospitality which are typical of Colmar."

"You have my permission to do exactly what I tell you to do, Herr 
Burgermeister," Ernst von Bruckmann snapped, adjusting his monocle. "If you
are trying to take me for a fool, I warn you not to play that game. You 
know as well as I that there are a good many filthy French traitors right 
here in your city of Colmar as well as throughout all of Alsace-Lorraine. I
am going to have a curfew announced. All citizens will be in their homes 
and off the streets by nine o'clock at night. Otherwise they will be shot. 
No one is to carry any weapon. At periodic times, Herr Burgermeister, I 
mean to have the dwellings of your people entered at random times, and if 
any hidden guns or knives or weapons of any kind, for that matter, are 
discovered, their owners will be summarily shot."

"But, mein Oberst," Georg Drucker gently protested, "that is martial law!
If we were under siege or in any contact with the enemy, I would agree with
you, of course, but the French armies are back as far as Sedan, hundreds of
miles from here-"

"Du Schweinhund du" the fat sadist angrily swore. Taking off one of his 
gloves, he slashed it across the Burgermeister cheek. "Are you, a stupid 
civilian, daring to tell me, commander of this regiment, what my business 
is? You had best hold your tongue and obey my orders, Drucker, or I will 
begin by removing you and throwing you into prison while I appoint a 
provisional mayor. Yes, to be sure, this is martial law. So long as there 
is a single person with French blood in his veins in Colmar, we of the 
German Army may consider ourselves surrounded by enemies and traitors. What
you are to do at once is to go to your council and bring them here to your 
house so that I may tell them my new edict. If you have a printer in this 
town, bring him along. I want signs posted throughout the city about the 
curfew and prohibition against all weapons."

"I-I shall arrange it at once, Herr Oberst."

"That's a little better," Ernst von Bruckmann smirked. Then he sprawled 
himself in the finest, deepest and most thickly upholstered armchair.

"Oh, and by the way, have you some schnapps or brandy? I've ridden a good
many miles this day and it is damnably hot."

"Certainly, Herr Oberst. If you will allow me to pull the bellrope for my
housekeeper, I'll see that you are served some refreshments."

The portly Junker sadist shrugged, and Drucker walked to the door and 
tugged the bellrope. A moment later, Agatha Blumberg, in her black 
bombazine dress, her face still pale with fear, hastened into the room. She
cast a frightened glance at the indolently seated officer, then turned to 
her master.

"A decanter of the best brandy, please, Frau Blumberg. And some of that 
gooseliver pate and some good black bread to spread it on, if you will."

"A moment, if you please. Come here, woman!" Ernst von Bruckmann lazily 
lifted his riding crop and beckoned with it to the trembling housekeeper. 
She shot her master a supplicating look, but he quickly shook his head and 
then gestured to her to obey. Her hands clasped in front of her, fumbling 
with the strings of her apron tied over the front of the dress, she 
advanced.

"Your name, woman? "

"Frau Agatha B-Blumberg, Excellency," she quavered.

"Frau? You are married, I take it?"

"I-I was, Excellenz. My-my husband died five years ago. He-he was the 
gardener for the Herr Burgermeister."

"I see," Ernst von Bruckmann permitted himself a lewd smile. "But then, I
don't suppose, Frau Blumberg, you've been left lonely, not with such a 
thoughtful employer, nicht wahrl You're a handsome wench, indeed you are. 
How old are you?"

The mayor flushed and bit his lips, furiously resenting the arrogant 
possessiveness which the Junker officer displayed, an affront to his 
station in the city and to his entire family. But he dared say nothing.

"Thirty-five, Excellenz."

"Not bad. You're quite well preserved, Frau Blumberg. Now go fetch 
refreshments and be quick about it!" He swished the riding crop in the air,
and the horrified housekeeper uttered a stifled gasp of fear and hastened 
from the salon, her hasty exit punctuated by his laughter. "The bitch is 
afraid of me, Drucker. Well, no matter. It is a good idea for everyone here
to be just a little afraid of the Oberst Ernst von Bruckmann-that is my 
name, you see. Now then, you were telling me about the people in this 
house. Quickly! I want all of the details so that I will know what to do 
and how to take measures necessary in the event of any overt acts against 
the forces under my command."

"But I assure you there will be none. The people of Colmar are-"

"You swine, I didn't ask you for a patriotic speech. I know what your 
people are. Go on with what you are saying!"

Georg Drucker's face was crimson with mortification in a trembling voice,
and with an effort, he resumed: "There is my daughter Marlene, and my other
daughter Linda, and of course my wife Klara.

You have already met my housekeeper. There are also four maids who serve 
us, and an elderly cook who is a widow."

"And that's all."

"Yes, Excellenz. The gardener who replaced Frau Blumberg's husband at 
that post enlisted in the German army at the outbreak of war."

"Well, that's one mark in your favor, at any rate, Drucker. Ah, here come
the refreshments. Come here, woman, don't be afraid. Unless you've some 
reason to fear me. Perhaps you've got a rifle hidden upstairs in your 
hopechest, ha, ha, ha!" he burst into crude laughter, as he saw Agatha 
Blumberg's hands trembling so violently that the tray which she was 
carrying wavered. "Achtung! If you spill the brandy, meine kleine Agatha, I
will have your hide for it. Now set it down on this little table beside the
chair.

Good. Now pour me a good stiff glass of that good brandy, and smear a 
slice of bread as thickly as you can with the pate and then hand it to me. 
Very good. Hmnij not bad stuff at all. You do rather well for yourself 
here, Drucker. But mark you, I as commanding officer of this regiment and 
in command of Colmar by authority, may at my pleasure commandeer the best 
food and brandy and wine and such other things as I deem essential to the 
welfare of my men. Is that understood?"

"Assuredly, Excellency."

"I wish to see your entire family and your servants as well. Go bring 
them here and line them up before me, schncl!!"

Georg Drucker stiffened, bit his lips again, and then bowed his head 
resignedly. He was sick at heart at the thought of having to quarter this 
brutal and sadistic regi mental commander in his own house. He had already 
observed how the piggish little eyes of the Oberst had lingered over the 
housekeeper's bottom and bosom. And he also knew that if the Oberst decided
to summon Frau Blumberg to his bed, he himself would be powerless to avert 
the ordeal for the unfortunate woman.

CHAPTER FOUR

As the kindly-faced graybearded mayor of Colmar left the living room to 
summon the rest of his family and household staff for inspection by the 
elegant Junker, the latter crooked his forefinger at the trembling 
housekeeper. "Not you, Liebchen," he muttered. "Come here!"

Her lips began to tremble and her face flooded with color as she 
approached. "Closer yet, stand against me. Gut. Now, tell me, while that 
old fool is off getting the rest of his family, has he taken you to bed 
often?"

"Himmel, nein, Excellenz! I swear to you-" the buxom blonde housekeeper 
gasped, her color deepening at the obscene implication.

"Then he is more of a fool than I had thought him to be-so much the 
better. So you've been a widow five years eh, Agatha?

Stricken speechless with fright, she could only nod as she stared down at
his fat smirking face. She stood beside the chair, and now he idly moved 
his booted legs towards her, so that they rubbed against her calves through
the bombazine dress which fell to her ankles. It shaped out with its very 
fullness of cut the ripe curves of her hips and bosom and thighs. She was 
flaxen-haired, her hair thick and wound in a coronet braid around the top 
of her head and the rest of it then made into a thick bun at the back of 
her neck. She had a soft pink skin, quite sensitive, as her deep blushes 
attested. And he could see the quickened rise and fall of two solid 
melon-like breasts which inflamed his rut as he promised himself a most 
joyous evening, a fitting welcome for his entry into this city of mixed 
French and Germans. Yes, maybe the General Staff hadn't been so stupid 
after all. He would have preferred the glory of battle, but since there was
a military need to occupy a city where there were likely to be spies and 
snipers and guerillas, being billeted here would have its advantages. Even 
the common soldiers of this regiment deserved to have a little fun too to 
compensate them for being quartered in a town full of stuffy merchants and 
profiteers instead of having the chance to die gloriously for the 
Vaterland. Well, at the first sign of any hostility towards his Uhlans, he 
would seize female hostages at random, the high as well as the low, and 
have them consigned to the brothel available to all men over the rank of 
sergeant.

"You please me, Liebchen," he muttered. "Tonight, when everyone else is 
asleep, verstehe, you'll come to my room. That's an order, Agatha! You know
what happens in wartime when a solider refuses to obey orders, hein! Well, 
you're as good as a soldier now because this city is under martial law. 
Don't forget it. And be prompt. As soon as you hear the old man snoring and
all the lights are out, up to my room you come, understood?"

Tears began to flow down her cheeks as she hid her face in her hands and 
bowed her head.

"I asked you a question, woman!" he snarled, sitting upright on the edge 
of the thickly upholstered chair. "You want me to take my riding crop to 
your fat Arsch? I think I shall tonight. I like a woman with some spirit. 
Now, is it understood what you are to do tonight?"

"Ja-ja, Ex-Ex-Excellenz," she tearfully stammered.

"Very good, see that you don't forget it. And, now, here come all the 
rest of the brood. Tonight, Agatha, you must tell me everything you know 
about them. And that's an order too. Now get back to your work in the 
kitchen. And bring me some more of that good pate. He licked his fingers, 
took the decanter of brandy and poured himself three fingers full into the 
glass he had just emptied, and then put it to his lips and breathed in 
savoringly as Georg Drucker, his handsome wife Klara, the nineteen-year-old
auburn-haired Linda and pert black-haired Marlene entered. The 
Burgermeister had his arm around his wife's waist, and his two daughters 
followed behind him, while at a respectful distance behind them came four 
maids in their white caps and black cotton dresses, black stockings and 
high-button shoes, their faces downcast in an attitude of utter humility, 
impressed as they were by the awesome military stature of this rude and 
unusual visitor.

Ernst von Bruckmann downed half the contents of his glass and sat it back
down on the table with a clatter, then belched and patted his belly. "Go 
ahead, Drucker, make the introductions," he commanded. "By the way, have 
you any good cigars?"

"Er-yes-yes I think so, Herr Oberst," the mayor faltered, glancing 
around. "Kathchen, would you bring the box from my study, if you please?"

"At once, sir," the youngest and prettiest of the four maids curtsied and
hurried from the salon.

Georg Drucker turned back to face his unwelcome guest. "May I present my 
wife Klara?" he said in a tone of simple dignity.

Klara Drucker was of medium height, and, though forty-one years of age, 
magnificently attractive. Her hair was light brown without a trace of gray,
formed in a thick pompadour, which gave to her round sweet face a kind of 
stately presence. Her breasts were highset, closely spaced and still 
remarkably firm, though not of the generous proportions of the 
housekeeper's. Her fingers were long and slim and tapering, and her waist 
was slender, but her hips were assuredly as attractive as Agatha 
Blumberg's. As

Ernst von Bruckmann adjusted his monocle and lubriciously stared at her, 
her cheeks flamed at the outrageous insult of that fixed gaze. Her husband,
forcing himself again to remain passive before this inimical and viciously 
offensive Junker, had all he could do to control himself at the boorish 
manner of this detestable guest. What agonized him most of all was his 
knowledge that because of the military rank of the man who sprawled in the 
armchair, he dared not offend the coarse swine because there would be 
instant cruel reprisals. He could only hope that-as now seemed 
inevitable-the Oberst would content his carnal lust with one of the maids 
or the housekeeper, and thus spare his own daughters and his wife.

"And this, Herr Oberst," his voice had begun to tremble a little, "is 
Linda, our older daughter."

Linda Drucker was about five feet six inches in height, her auburn hair 
drawn straight back from her forehead, and bound into a thick braid at the 
back of her neck, almost like a pigtail. She had a classically oval face, 
lovely hazel eyes, and a bewitching figure; long legs, an upstandingly 
shaped pair of oval bottomcheeks, and her breasts were narrowly set 
together uptilting gourds which proudly thrust forward against the bodice 
of her dress and needed no support to proclaim their firm resilience. Her 
skin was a pale cream, mottled with tiny rosy flecks, flawless complexion 
of the typical natural redhead.

Linda was engaged to Heinz Werner, son of Colmar's postmaster, and for 
the past two months he had been at the front against the French. But horror
had not yet touched her. She read poetry, played the zither and the 
clavier, and her love for Heinz had been expressed in tender kisses and 
much idealistic and romantic conversation-she was still a virgin and Heinz,
being an honorable young man, though ardent had not tried to claim his 
prize before the wedding day.

Ernst von Bruckmann's eyes fixed on Linda's sensitive, lovely face with 
the appreciation a wolf has for an especially tender lamb. What he liked 
best of all was one of these fastidious, ethereal bitches who talk a lot of
nonsense about pure love and find themselves in a locked room with a man of
his own attitudes. It always amused him when a patrician bitch had to take 
off her clothes and taste a few good strokes of Die Peitsche on her bare 
skin. It was amusing how her conversation changed immediately until finally
she acknowledged herself ready for a good fucking. And best of all was 
after she had been broken in for the first time, the way her voice sounded 
when he would make her repeat all the filthy words about fucking which he 
especially liked to hear from the fine elegant mouth of a lady. Linda 
Drucker was just such a piece of kootzele to inflame all the perversity and
brutality of his nature.

At this moment, there was a loud knock on the door of the house. "That 
will no doubt be my second in command, Major von Lorchbar," Ernst von 
Bruckmann drawled. "Let him in at once!"

Again Georg Drucker flushed hotly at the overbearing manner in which the 
Junker officer gave orders in this, his own house, but again he yielded to 
superior force and gestured to the quivering flaxen-haired housekeeper to 
admit the newcomer.

"What the devil took you so long, Herr Lorchbar?" the Oberst chuckled as 
his crony entered the salon.

Major Ludwig von Lorchbar was forty-nine, baldheaded, with a fat round 
face not unlike Ernst von Bruckmann's. He was, however, six feet in height,
and boasted a huge walrus mustache the tips of which he kept gleamingly 
waxed. He came from Eldenheim, a quiet residential suburb of Munich, and 
when the two men had been mere lieutenants at a training center in Hamburg,
they had wined and wenched in memorable fashion. One of their still 
hilariously remembered adventures had been taking over Der Speise a famous 
Hamburg whorehouse near the water front. After having given the madame a 
dozen pieces of gold, they had elegantly demanded to have all the inmates 
of the house lined up for "kootzele inspection." This done, the two of them
swiftly locked the door, seized the buxom forty-year-old madame herself and
ordered two of her girls to strip her naked on pain of being thrashed by 
their orderlies. When one of the girls had remonstrated, von Lorchbar had 
put out thumb and forefinger and viciously twisted one of her nipples while
slapping her face repeatedly with the palm of her other hand until she had 
dropped down on her knees to implore pardon.

Then the two men, commandeering the dozen frightened prostitutes and the 
madam herself, told them all to strip naked and had sent the pretty mulatto
maid for half a dozen bottles of the finest champagne.

When the maid had returned, she too had been forced to strip naked and 
participate in the orgy. The two sadists had conceived a bawdy notion of 
having all fourteen naked females crawl on all fours before them and spend 
an entire minute Frenching each of them. The one who brought each of them 
to climax, they announced, should have the privilege of spending the rest 
of the night with their Herr Kavaliers.

The pretty mulatto girl brought von Lorchbar to climax, and was bidden to
stand in a corner with her hands on her knees and her naked bottom jutting 
out. A tall willowy golden-haired young whore of twenty, named Magda, 
managed to draw forth Ernst von Bruckmann's spunk and became his doxy for 
the rest of the night. She too was ordered to take her place beside the 
mulatto maid and adopt the same servile position.

Then the two men, armed with their riding crops and naked but for their 
boots-having first ordered the terrified prostitutes to undress them and 
lick their boots in token of submission-again compelled the unfortunate 
women to crawl on all fours behind them, and regaled them with lashes of 
the riding crop until their arms were too weary to belabor those wriggling 
naked bottoms any longer. Tipsy now from all the champagne, von Bruckmann 
and von Lorchbar had herded the dozen whores into a small room upstairs and
locked it, pocketing the key, then dragged away their "prizes."

Before they left the brothel, they had taken back their gold pieces and, 
using their riding crops again, made the twelve whores including the madame
choose partners and perform Lesbian love before them

... six naked couples entwined, all of them in sixty-nine position! And, 
to quicken the ardors of these palpitating weeping victims, the two young 
Junker sadists again administered a fustigation with their riding crops 
before they finally left the brothel in a shambles, laughing drunkenly....

"Sorry to be late, Ernst," von Lorchbar replied, as, tucking his riding 
crop under one arm and adjusting his glistening spiked helmet which bore 
the insignia of his rank at the very center at the rim, he stared avidly at
the assemblage of the Drucker household. "Kapitan Eisner had some business 
with me. Now then, I'm sorry to have missed the introductions. Will you do 
me the honors, Ernst?"

"Gladly." The portly Oberst swiftly designated the Burgermeister and his 
wife and two daughters and then the housekeeper, adding after this last 
introduction with a broad wink at his crony, "Never you mind about Agatha 
here, she's already spoken for." Then, turning back to the trembling mayor 
he elegantly commanded, "And now the maids, Drucker! Have them come curtsey
before us and tell us what their names are and how old they are, verstehe?"

Georg Drucker turned back to the four now thoroughly frightened maids in 
their pretty caps and long dresses and nodded to them to carry out the 
ObersVs orders. The four young women hesitated, and then Kathchen, the 
saucy, freckle-faced and coppery-haired youngest maid, stepped forward, 
inclined her head before the two smirking Junkers and said, "I'm Kathchen 
and I'm seventeen, Excellenz."

"Wie eine schones Kind." Ludwig von Lorchbar chuckled, moving over to the
armchair and sitting on the edge of one arm as he took out his monocle to 
scrutinize the charmingly saucy young redhead. "If she is not spoken for, 
Ernst, I'd like to do so here and now. I'll have her assigned as my 
personal servant to do my boots and tidy my room. Oh, by the way, which 
room is it to be, have you found out yet?"

"I was just getting to that, Ludwig. You, Drucker, I'll take your bedroom
for myself, and if your wife has a separate room that will do very nicely 
for my friend Herr Major Lorchbar. Have your housekeeper assist our 
orderlies with our things, and move what has to be moved out of the two 
bedrooms, understood?"

Georg Drucker nodded. "Ja-ja, Excellenz," Agatha Blumberg faintly 
stammered.

"All right, you other girls, come forward and make yourself known," the 
Oberst clapped his hands imperiously.

Of the three remaining girls who huddled together with frightened looks 
at the two overbearing Junkers, one at last gathered up the courage to step
forward and to curtsey. She had dark brown hair, a tall

willowy figure with surprisingly full round breasts set closely together 
and a rather bovine and vapidly pretty face. "I'm Lenchen, Excellenz," she 
announced, "I'm twenty."

She was about to step back when Major Ludwig von Lorchbar beckoned to 
her. "Come here my pretty one, don't be afraid. I won't bite you-yet!" He 
turned to his crony and winked, as the two men burst into salacious 
laughter. The frightened young woman, glancing fleetingly back to her 
employer, resigned herself and moved slowly forward, her hands clasped 
together in front of her as in supplication. "Closer, mein Kind," von 
Lorchbar urged, and when at last she stood before him, he adjusted his 
monocle, then extended his right hand and boldly cupped one of those 
jutting love-melons of hers through the black dress and squeezed it. 
Lenchen uttered a shriek of consternation and involuntarily struck his hand
away.

"They're real, Ernst," the Major told his friend. Then, his smile 
vanishing, he rose from the chairarm and slapped the terrified dark 
brown-haired maid across the cheek, rocking her head back. "The next time, 
you country bitch," he snarled, "you won't strike a German officer, 
remember that! Now get out of the room and help the housekeeper move the 
master's and the mistress's stuff and be quick about it!"

Resuming his seat on the edge of the chairarm as before, he then nodded: 
"All right, you two others, step forward and introduce yourselves, we 
haven't all day."

At this point the Burgermeister stepped forward, his face suddenly very 
pale and drawn. "Gentlemen, I must respectfully protest," he began. "I am 
honored by billeting such important officers, but I do not think the 
articles of war give you permission to make yourselves free and easy with 
members of my household."

"Why, you traitorous bastard," Ernst von Bruckmann snarled and made a 
gesture of rising. But his crony shook his head: "I'll take care of this, 
Ernst old man." Then, standing and striding towards the Burgermeister, his 
hands on his hips, he eyed Georg Drucker for a long deliberate moment. 
"Understand this, Herr Burgermeister. This is wartime, we take over what we
need for the pursuit of our duties. If it amuses us to trifle with your 
maid, rest assured it is an honor for them. Take care you don't show 
yourselves, you and your family, unmindful of the great honor we pay you, 
Herr Burgermeister," he drawled out Drucker's title to emphasize his 
contempt for that civilian station, "or we might consider that you are not 
true Germans at heart for the cause for which we are willing to give our 
lives. Under martial law, the Herr Oberst and myself have the absolute 
power, without right of appeal, to inflict military punishment on all who 
resist our orders."

Georg Drucker's eyes lowered, and he stood trembling, knowing himself 
unable to defy these vicious Junker sadists. His family would suffer if he 
did, but he was in agony at the thought that the young maids whose parents 
he had assured as to their daughters' well-being in his household would be 
the prey of

Junker lust. "I ask only that you do not harm anyone in this house, 
Excellenz," he at last answered in a shaking voice.

"Well now, Drucker," von Lorchbar chuckled triumphantly, "that tone is a 
little better to take with a German officer of my rank. We'll see about 
that. If all of you take care, there is no reason why there shouldn't be a 
very pleasant stay for all concerned. And now let's hear from the other two
maids, because I'm eager to get to my room and stretch myself out and take 
my uniform off and be comfortable."

The third maid now timidly came forward. "My n-name is Margaret, and-and 
I'm nineteen, Excellenz,"

she stammered, curtsied and then hurried to the back of the salon behind 
her employer and his family.

But her charms had not been lost on the two Junkers; she was rather 
petite, only about five feet four inches in height, with jet black hair, 
olive-sheened complexion, and with deliciously plump calves and thighs and 
a bottom to match, though her titties were small oranges, thus emphasizing 
the ripeness of her haunches and thighs all the more.

The fourth maid, with honey-colored hair done up in a thick bun at the 
top of her head with boldly thrusting pear-shaped breasts and long slim 
provocative legs, was the twenty-one-year-old Elsa. And, as an object 
lesson to the horrified and helpless witnesses gathered before them, the 
two officers ordered the tearful and blushing young woman to clasp her 
hands behind her back and to stand before them, warning her in advance not 
to dare to budge or to resist. And then each of them in turn put out a hand
and fondled those thrusting firm breasts through the black bombazine dress,
while poor Elsa closed her eyes and turned her face to one side as she 
helplessly abandoned herself to their obscene palpations and their 
suggestive comments.

Once again there was a loud knock at the door, and the Oberst ordered 
Elsa to open it to the two orderlies who had brought in the personal 
effects of the regi mental commanders. And only then did Ernst von 
Bruckmann and Ludwig von Lorchbar deign to dismiss the aghast members of 
the Drucker household and to go to their quarters-the master bedrooms of 
Georg and Klara Drucker....

The old grandfather's clock had just finished chiming eleven when a timid
knock was heard at the door of what had been Georg Drucker's bedroom. Ernst
von Bruckmann, naked except for his boots and silken drawers, rose quickly 
from the chair beside the fourposter bed, his eyes glittering with 
anticipation. He had had Kathchen bring up a bottle of Niersteiner, some 
cheese and sausage and bread, because whenever he fucked he became hungry. 
It amused him to select the lovely spirited youngest maid for this menial 
task since Kathchen herself had been ordered to the bedroom occupied by his
crony Ludwig von Lorchbar. And since the two bedrooms were adjacent, and he
had found a connecting door between them, he anticipated the delicious 
extra stimulus of watching his crony pillage the lithe young pale 
creamy-skinned body of the red-haired maid. In fact, he told himself that 
he might well exchange partners before the night was done.

"Herein, sclinell," he bawled. The door opened, and Agatha Blumberg 
appeared, her eyes red and swollen from weeping. She wore only her 
nightshift and slippers, and her flaxen hair was unbound and falling nearly
to her hips in a thick lustrous sheath.

"Lock that door, you sow, so no one can bother us," he growled as he 
refilled his glass with the superb Rhine wine.

As soon as Agatha Blumberg had complied, he beckoned to her as he rose. 
Her large, tear-humid blue eyes fixed at once on the tremendous bulge 
against the silken drawers, and she gulped with apprehension. He chuckled 
lewdly: "Yes, bitch that's my Schwanz. You're going to be very nice to it, 
tonight, you know. Every way a woman can be too. Now take off that shift 
and let's see what you've got to offer my Schwanzl"

"Please, Herr Oberst," Agatha Blumberg began to sniffle, "I'm a decent 
woman, truly I am. I really loved my husband and I haven't ever been here 
to the master's bed since he died, I swear I haven't!"

"I'm not interested in your bourgeois virtue, you fat bitch! I gave you 
an order." He reached over to the edge of the bed where he had laid his 
leather riding crop, lifted it up and shook it before her horrified eyes. 
"Maybe you are the kind that's a slow starter, like that mare I ride back 
at the parade ground. But once she has had a taste of this, she knows that 
I expect her to kick up her heels and hold up her head and canter. Maybe 
you need the same treatment, heinl"

"Ach nein, bitte, Excellenz," Agatha panted, her fingers twisting as she 
clasped them before her.

"Then get naked, or you'll feel this!" he warned.

Bursting into sobs, the buxom widow stooped and dragged up the hem of her
nightshift, hesitated when she reached her bushy crotch, but an angry oath 
from the sadistic Junker made her cry out and frantically tug the garment 
off and let it drop to the floor. Then, out of a natural instinct of 
modesty she clutched one arm over her magnificent ripe breasts, while her 
other palm clamped over the thick dark blonde fleece of her cunt.

"Achtung!" he bawled. "At attention, bitch! Arms at your sides, shoulders
drawn back, head up, Butzen thrust out and take a deep breath! That's 
better." He came towards her, patting the sinister tapering flap of the 
riding crop in the palm of his left hand as he walked round her, studying 
her delectable body.

Agatha Blumberg had never borne a child, though she had had two 
miscarriages. Her round melon-like breasts were still commendably firm and 
without noticeable sag. Broad dark-brown aureolae and crinkled ripe nipples
drew his greedy stare, and he reached out his left hand and cupped each 
globe in turn, while Agatha Blumberg closed her eyes and whimpered. While 
he did so, he lowered his riding crop, and with the flap rubbed it against 
her cuntbush, then remarked, "Turn around now and bend over, hands on the 
knees, sclinell."

"Bitte, lieber Herr Oberst!" the unfortunate housekeeper sobbed.

"Do what I tell you to do, you fat sow, or I'll have you trussed up at 
the public square and flogged until there isn't a patch of untouched pink 
skin all over your body," he viciously retorted.

Agatha Blumberg tearfully obeyed. He moved behind her now, licking his 
lips and contemplating the lasciviously jutting hillocks of her opulent 
bottom. The sinuous narrow ambery-shadowy groove separating the cheeks made
his bulging prick ache the more with a sodomitic longing. "Spread your legs
more, sclinelll" he ordered and was obeyed. Now slyly lowering the riding 
crop, he raised it until the flap rubbed against poor Agatha's cunt. She 
uttered a frightened squeal and instinctively clenched her thighs together.

"Is that the way you obey me, Agatha?" he pulled away the crop then 
slashed her brutally across the top of her opulent posterior. Agatha 
Blumberg uttered a piercing cry and clapped her hands to the wounded parts.
Straightening and turning back to look at him with an agonized entreaty. 
"Oh please, Herr Oberst, don't hurt me, please don't!"

"Turn around, get back into position and spread those legs of yours if 
you don't want me to flay the skin off your Arsch this minute!" he snarled.

Weeping in her shame and terror, the buxom housekeeper slowly adopted 
that pose of shameless self-offertory. He chuckled thickly: "That's a 
little better! You'll do well, Agatha, to jump when I give the word." And 
then, without waiting for an answer, he unbuttoned the silken drawers and 
emerged his swollen, darkveined cock. "Now hold still, and don't you dare 
try to move away, or you'll wish you'd never been born," he threatened.

"I-I-w-w-won't, Ex-Ex Excellenz " Agatha Blumberg whimpered.

"Wait, IVe a better idea." Out of a refinement of sadism, the portly 
Oberst preferred the handle of the riding crop towards his victim's 
trembling mouth. "Hold it in your teeth, bitch, and if you drop it while 
I'm giving my Schwanz to you, you can be sure that I'll wear that drop out 
on your Arschl" he warned.

And when the unfortunate housekeeper had clenched her teeth over the 
leather handle, the Junker sadist sank his pudgy fingers into the 
shrinking, plump pink cheeks of her bottom, yawned them apart, and thrust 
his meatus up against the crinkly puckering fissure of Agatha Blumberg's 
still virgin asshole.

"Mmmfffagghhh!!!" she wailed, squirming frantically, trying to turn her 
face back and to supplicate him with her tear-blinded eyes.

"Be careful now, don't drop it," he reminded her, his voice thick with 
rut. "Spread your legs a little more, and bend over more too, so I can get 
into this tight hole of yours!"

And when she had obeyed, his fingers dug sadistically into the succulent 
globes maintaining them widely distended as he forced himself against the 
twitching, flinching lips of Agatha Blumberg's rectal sheath.

She groaned as his cockhead probed past the sphincter muscles, turning 
her face restlessly from side to side, her forehead furrowed in pain, as 
his brutal penetration spared her nothing. With a grunt, he dug himself 
brutally into her to the balls, and the pain of the eviscerating thrust 
drew a shrill outcry:

"Eeeearrhhh! Ach Gott, have pity-you are hurting me horribly-aahhrrr!!" 
at which the riding crop dropped to the floor.

"So, you didn't follow my orders, you fat sow?" he gloated, relishing the
convulsive grip her asshole made against his embedded prong. "Just for 
that, when I finish with you, youTl pick up the whip with your teeth and 
offer it to me and then you'll beg me for a good thrashing, yes, eine Gutes
Schlagen on the bare ArschV

"Oh pity, don't hurt me-I-I've never done this before-owww-how you tear 
and hurt me-oh Herr Oberst, have pity, aiii!"

But now Ernst von Bruckmann's lust knew no bounds and to his ear from the
adjacent room came a shrill cry ... poor young Kathchen, forced to strip 
herself naked before the glittering eyes of Major Ludwig von Lorchbar, had 
just announced the rending of her maidenhead as, forced to kneel on all 
fours

on a low couch by the window, the unfortunate, naked coppery-haired maid 
felt herself rent asunder by her assailant's digging prick.

With that aural stimulus, the Oberst's nostrils flared with bestial rut. 
He began to thrust himself back and forth inside the tight space, while the
unfortunate housekeeper wailed and sobbed and brokenly implored mercy. Once
again Kathchen's cry of pain reached his ears, only serving to inflame him 
the more. When he had finished ejaculating his lust-lava into Agatha 
Blumberg's bowels, he withdrew, seized her by the hair, forced her down on 
her knees and made her bow her forehead to the floor. Then, retrieving the 
riding crop, he flogged her mercilessly, heedless of her shrieks and 
lamentations, until her bottom was bleeding from half a dozen lacerating 
weals which crisscrossed the many others he had inflicted.

Then, his rut once again restored, he flung the crop away, knelt down and
rolled her over onto her back, entered her and began to fuck her 
ruthlessly.

In the guestroom which they had taken for their bedroom after having been
ousted by the victorious German conquerors, Georg and Klara Drucker clung 
to each other, weeping softly, for they too had heard the agonized cries 
which had rung through the house, cries which attested to the brutal 
acceptance of their gentle hospitality by these ruthless warlords whom 
mighty Chancellor Bismarck had launched upon the innocent and the helpless.

CHAPTER FIVE

Hauptman Heinrich von Luber had had his orderly, Korporal Klaus Purburter, 
go ahead down the main street and find a suitable billet for himself and 
his good friend the affable blond Leutnant Franz von Wollenz. The orderly 
scratched his head. Maybe he was wrong about this verdammte officer of his.
No doubt about it, he hadn't really expected the arrogant Kapitan von Luber
to share quarters with anybody less than his own rank or above it. He still
considered the Kapitan a no good bastard and an apple-polisher. 
Nonetheless, he saluted smartly and tried to hide his feelings as he 
trotted his black horse quickly down the cobbled street until he saw, about
three hundred yards off to his right, an elegant brick house across the 
street from which was a small Lutheran church. It was a big house, and the 
orderly had done enough reconnoitering for his officer to know exactly what
the latter wanted. Moreover, it was a question of his own personal comforts
too. In a big house, there was bound to be a nice fat old cook and some 
pretty young maids, and he would shine up to them and make certain that he 
got as good rations as his master ... and maybe a little kootzele into the 
bargain.

Klaus himself was an insignificant fellow and knew it only too well. The 
thing was, now that there was a war going on and he found himself attached 
to a high-ranking Offizier the chances for not only promotion but personal 
good fortune were the best he would ever have in all his life, and he meant
to make the most of them. He had a wife back home, a blowsy thirty-two year
old former Kellerin, whom he had met at an open-air Bierstube a dozen years
ago. By now she had lost her good looks, had three squalling brats and 
drank more beer than was good for her.

Thus inwardly glowing with his hopes for pleasure, the orderly seized the
knocker at the door of the fine house he had picked for his master and the 
young Leutnant, and struck noisily. The door was opened almost at once by a
bashful, giggling, bucktoothed young maid who could not have been more than
eighteen, with straw-colored long tresses falling at the sides of her face 
and almost to her waist at the back, dressed in a stiffly starched black 
linen gown that fell to her ankles. "Ja, was wollen Sie, mein Herr!" she 
demanded in a voice which could not suppress her merriment over some recent
joke. Klaus Purburter assumed his most menacing military manner, 
straightening and sticking out his jaw as he replied, "I want to see the 
master of this house, Verstehen Sie?"

"But there is no master, mein Herr. There is only my mistress and her 
daughter, Fraulein Magdalena."

"In that case, let me see your mistress. We are taking over here, and I 
am orderly for the Herr Excellenz Hauptman Heinrich von Luber."

"Himmel, you mean you are going to move in here?" she giggled again 
irrepressibly.

"That's the general idea, girl. Now look sharp, I haven't all day, and 
the Herr Kapitan will be very angry with you if you don't bring your 
mistress here at once," he said sternly.

The bucktoothed maid sent him an arch glance from under thick blonde 
lashes, then stuck out her tongue at him, much to his amazement, and beat a
hasty retreat. A moment later, a tall dignified and very beautiful woman 
entered the room, and Klaus Purburter's eyes widened. Behind her came the 
maid, a hand over her mouth to conceal her titters, and continued to send 
the orderly the most provocative of looks which made him fidget a little.

"Minnie says you wish to see me, Korporal" the woman said. "I am Frau 
Hilda Grasser. How may I serve you?"

"It's for the Hauptman whose orderly I am, Frau Grasser." Klaus Purburter
lost some of his self-assurance in the presence of this magnificent 
creature found himself stammering and getting red about the neck. "The 
Fifth Regiment of Uhlans has been assigned to this city, and it is my duty 
to find quarters for my master and for his friend the Leutnant."

"I see; Do I understand that you wish to occupy my house, then?"

"Yes, Frau Grasser, if it's all right with you."

"It really isn't, but I suppose I have no choice." The woman turned to 
the maid, "Minnie, will you tell my daughter to come here at once, please?"

The dark-haired Heinrich von Luber and Franz von Wollenz had dismounted, 
seeing the former's orderly enter the fine house down the street, and now 
knocked at the door. Frau Hilda Grasser grimaced with annoyance, then 
herself went to the door and opened it. Heinrich von Luber's eyes gleamed 
at the sight of her. "Good afternoon, Madame," he said with a leering 
smile. "I am Kapitan Heinrich von Luber and this is my good friend Leutnant
Franz von Wollenz. I daresay my orderly has just arranged with you to give 
us billets here. I regret having to discommode you, but it's the fortune of
the war."

Inwardly he was thinking, Herr Gott, here's a wonderful piece of ass! 
Tall as a man, and big upstanding titties, and what lovely long legs to 
wrap around a man in bed! A waist I can span with both my hands, and a 
backside on her that's like solid jelly! What a sweet sad mournful face she
has, the bitch, that's always the sign of a hot piece of kootzele! She 
can't be any more than thirty-five, and there's plenty of life in her. What
luck! I must give that bastard Purburter a few schillings for having 
arranged such quarters for us!

Franz von Wollenz had taken off his spiked helmet and graciously 
introduced himself to the woman whom his older companion had already 
mentally fucked. She gave him a wistful little smile and inclined her head.
"You are welcome, Leutnant, I'm sure. You must forgive me if I don't seem 
too happy to welcome you. You see, my husband, a Major in the Reserves, was
killed at Sedan two weeks ago, and we just had the news yesterday."

"You have my deepest condolences, Frau Grasser," the young blonde 
Leutnant murmured.

But Klaus Purburter wanted to show his master that he was on his toes. 
"Begging the captain's pardon,"

he now interposed, "this maid here was giggling like anything when she 
let me in, as if everybody in the house had had a big joke. It doesn't 
sound to me like someone died here."

Heinrich von Luber frowned. He took out his monocle and adjusted it, 
knowing that it gave him an even greater air of elegant superiority. "You 
say your husband was killed, Frau Grasser?"

"That's true," Hilda Grasser was perhaps five feet eight inches in 
height, with an oval poignant face, great dark brown eyes, and her 
magnificent glossy black hair-without a touch of gray to it-was piled high 
at the top of her head in an ornate pompadour which added to her stature. 
"What your orderly heard, Captain, was my maid and my daughter laughing 
over the antics of a little puppy I bought her this morning at the 
marketplace. It's been a sad time for us, and we both needed something to 
take our mind off the tragedy. I don't understand why with all the young 
men available, my husband, who was forty-seven, had to be called up at 
all."

Heinrich von Luber stiffened, and a sneer curved his thin sadistic mouth.
"Frau Grasser," he said curtly,

"it is a glorious privilege to die on the battlefield for the honor of 
the Vaterland! I only hope that I myself will be granted such an end! You 
should be proud of him, and this remark of yours I shall try to forget, for
it smacks of treason."

"But you are forgetting, Captain," the beautiful black-haired widow 
gently retorted, "that in Colmar there are nearly as many French as there 
are Germans, and we have lived here for a generation in peace until this 
diplomatic war."

"Madame! I advise you to desist in such conversation, it's dangerous," 
the black-haired captain growled.

"I don't like to be disrespectful to a widow so fresh in her weeds, but I
don't care to hear civilians criticizing the General Staff! And now, if 
you'll be good enough to show us to our rooms...."

At this moment, the bucktoothed maid returned with Hilda Grasser's 
daughter Magdalena, and Heinrich von Luber stared as one transfixed. For 
Magdalena Grasser was even more beautiful in her golden-haired nubile 
loveliness than Franz von Wollenz's sister Kathe and hardly any older. 
Indeed, Magdalena Grasser was seventeen, about five feet six inches in 
height, with a sweet angelic face, huge blue eyes, an adorably ripe and 
kissable mouth, carnation-satiny skin and a figure which even the black 
dress of mourning could not hide as it limned the svelte haunches and long 
slim legs, accentuated the high perched widely spaced firm round young 
titties. She, too, like Kathe von Wollenz, had golden hair, coquettishly 
arranged in curls over the top of her forehead, and drawn into a thick 
plaited braid which fell just below her shoulderblades.

Klaus Purburter was staring too, ogling both these fine ladies and quite 
forgetting the bucktoothed maid who was winking at him from the rear of the
salon. "I have the honor to present to you, gentlemen, my daughter 
Magdalena," Hilda Grasser said softly. "Magdalena, my dear, the Captain and
the Lieutenant will be staying with us during the occupancy of Colmar. We 
shall let Minnie see to their needs." Then, turning back to the two 
officers, she added, her head held high and her face still poignantly 
shadowed.

"And now, if you'll excuse us, I can assure you that your comforts will 
be seen to while you are my guests. I only ask that you don't invade our 
privacy. Fortunately, the house is quite large and there are many rooms for
the two of you so it will not be necessary for you to disturb us. We are on
the first floor and you shall be on the second...."

"If you don't mind, Frau Grasser," Heinrich von Luber interrupted, "as 
senior and ranking officer, I must tell you that you don't give orders 
here, not even in your own house. Colmar is now under martial law and will 
be until we have made certain that the city is safe from guerrillas. You 
will take the second floor with your daughter. We shall take the first. We 
probably shall come and go a great deal during the day, and it's more 
convenient that way. So make whatever arrangements you need to put us up as
IVe indicated."

Hilda Grasser's face crimsoned with this rude affront, and she lowered 
her eyes and turned to the no longer simpering maid. "Minnie, you heard the
captain. Have Hans help you with their luggage."

And then, a protective arm around her lovely golden-haired daughter's 
waist, she led her out of the salon.

By nightfall, the order of Oberst Ernst von Bruckman had been posted 
throughout this important city of Alsace-Lorraine, proclaiming martial law,
the curfew, and a prohibition against the concealment of any weapons upon 
penalty of immediate courtmartial and summary execution by a firing squad.

Private Willi Nurbauer, a beetlebrowed, hulking groom to a dapper young 
lieutenant, had found himself quarters in the house of an elderly 
bookbinder, whose invalid wife and two daughters in their early thirties, 
and a fourteen year old son to one of these daughters, resented Ihe 
presence of German soldiers in Colmar. The bookbinder himself came from 
French parents, and had brought his daughters up to speak only French and 
just enough German to use in the marketplace when they did their shopping. 
Their husbands, at the outbreak of the war, had fled Alsace-Lorraine to 
place themselves at the disposal of a French regi mental commander across 
the border, and were now serving in this short and bloody war. It was too 
early to have had news from them yet, but Bertha Morin, the handsome older 
daughter who had given her husband a son, had a premonition that her 
husband was going to die.

Unhappily for Bertha, it was on her that Willi Nurbauer's lustful eyes 
fell. She had plump bottomcheeks, titties to match, and a fine white skin, 
and besides, she had irritated him with her haughty manner and her habit of
purposely speaking French when he was within earshot so he couldn't 
understand the bitch.

A little before midnight, he tiptoed down the hall and tried the knob of 
her door. Bertha hadn't fallen asleep and she sat up with a cry. "Who is 
it?"

He tried the knob and to his great joy it yielded. He entered, swiftly 
bolting the door behind him, and then stood with hands on hips as he stared
through the darkness at the vague outline of her nightgowned figure. "It's 
only me, Liebling," he whispered. "I've just come to keep you company, 
that's all."

"Get out of here, you-you Boche-you Schweinhund!" she cried.

"I'll show you, you uppity piece of Arsch!" he growled. He strode over to
the bed, felt for her, and clamped a hand over her mouth and with the other
ripped away her nightgown. Then, swiftly unbuttoning his breeches, he drew 
out his massive aching cock, for he had already intended to fuck her.

Now then it made the act that much more enjoyable because he knew she 
detested him.

Bertha Morin shrieked and twisted, trying to bite his hand, but he 
managed to keep it clamped over her mouth while he flung himself into bed 
atop her. Brutally, he shoved his prick against the thickly furred apex of 
her Venus, and felt himself sink into that soft clinging cavern.

Bertha Morin, exerting all her strength, managed to twist her face away 
and, freeing one arm, reached towards the night table, even as she felt 
herself probed to the very hilt by his turgid prong. Grimacing with 
revulsion, she seized the long hatpin she had placed in the edge of the 
table-for she had anticipated from his ogling of her person that he might 
attempt to steal into her room at night-and plunge it into the back of his 
neck.

Willie Nurbauer let out an agonized bellow, rolled off the panting and 
almost naked matron, and tried to drag out the long hatpin, but Bertha 
Morin had struck with all her strength and with-for her-unluckily murderous
skill; the long sharp pin had pierced his jugular vein and he slowly bled 
to death even as he gurgled and shrieked his agony, threshing about in her 
bed while she scrambled out, and hysterically crying for help, ran to her 
father's room.

Next door, Korporal Brandt Dichtman, roused by Willi Nurbauer's death 
cries, swore angrily as he pulled himself off the clinging naked body of 
the young nineteen-year-old blonde kitchen maid Elsie, whom he

had been fucking joyously until disturbed by those bloodcurdling cries. 
He'd got along famously with this bitch ever since he'd come to the house 
to ask for quarters for himself and his buddy, Korporal Otto Listen barger.
Elsie had sidled up to him and had whispered that her room was the last 
down the hall to the left on the second floor and that she'd leave it 
unlatched for him. And now this!

Pulling on his breeches, and giving her a hasty smack on her panting wet 
mouth, he hurried down the stairs and out of the house, while Korporal 
Listenbarger who himself had been interrupted while giving it dog-fashion 
to the other young maid, black-haired, snub-nosed, husky-voiced Gerda, 
followed him.

Both of them hammered upon the door of the next house until the terrified
elderly bookbinder had admitted them. Pushing him aside, they scrambled up 
the stairs to the room where their comrade lay dying, saw in a flash what 
had taken place, and seized the hysterical Bertha Morin.

"You dirty murdering French bitch," Korporal Listenbarger swore as he 
backhanded her across the mouth. "We're going to take you to the Oberst! 
You'll see what happens to people that kill good German soldiers!"

The following morning, Bertha, her face bruised from the working over 
which the two corporals had given her in their enthusiasm in getting her 
locked up in the town jail by order of Oberst Ernst von Bruckmann, was led 
before a military tribunal comprising the commander of the Uhlan Regiment 
and his second in command Major Ludwig von Lorchbar, as well as Captain 
Heinrich von Luber.

The two corporals stood on each side of the trembling matron, who had 
been given an old blue woolen dress to put on, shoes and stockings and 
nothing else, in their haste to get her to prison.

"Frau Bertha Morin," Ernst von Bruckmann declaimed, "it is the sentence 
of this court that an example be made of you. You are the first citizen of 
Colmar to strike a German soldier in the performance of his duties. You 
shall be flogged naked, at the town hall. Then you shall be taken to the 
nearest lamppost and hanged by the neck until you are dead. Take her out, 
Corporals, and prepare to execute the sentence!"

Half an hour later, the dress torn from her buxom, quivering body, her 
arms tied around the lamppost from which soon she was to hang, clad in only
her stockings and shoes, Bertha shrieked and wriggled under the blows of a 
riding crop administered by Oberst Ernst von Bruckmann himself. The street 
was thronged with horrified silent citizens and a detachment of Uhlan 
cavalry was placed stragetically, sabers bared to prevent an uprising.

The Oberst did not stop until Bertha sagged in her bonds, her buttocks 
and thighs bleeding from some fifty lashes of the pliant and murderously 
biting leather whip.

Then, casting it aside with a gesture of contempt, he jerked his thumb in
the air. The two grinning corporals swiftly untied the ropes which lashed 
her arms about the lamppost so that she embraced it as she would a lover. 
Corporal Listenbarger bound her wrists behind her, and put his hands on her
naked shoulders, forcing her to stand and face the pitying eyes of the 
townspeople, while his crony, mounting a ladder, adjusted a noose, and made
the other end tight to the top of the lamppost. "Haul the bitch up the 
ladder," he growled.

Corporal Listenbarger forced the half-fainting, violently trembling naked
victim up the ladder, where the other noncommissioned officer turned her so
that she stood on the next to last rung, facing the public square and the 
townhall. Then he adjusted the noose around her neck, his legs clamped 
round the post like an acrobat, drew it tight and then looked down to the 
Oberst who stood below and on the cobbled street, watching the 
preparations. He saw the gloved hand of the commanding officer slowly rise 
in the air and he licked his lips in anticipation. Bertha Morin's eyes were
closed, and she had begun to mumble prayers.

Oberst Ernst von Bruckmann's gloved hand shot down. The grinning corporal
gave Bertha Morin a vicious pinch on her bleeding bottom, and with a 
startled cry, the naked woman topped from the ladder and fell till the 
noose tugged her back. Then she kicked and twisted and writhed in the air, 
her face turning blue, her eyes goggling, until it was over.

The first savage act of German reprisal had been taken against the 
innocents, but there would be others before the Fifth Uhlan Regiment left 
the city of Colmar.

CHAPTER SIX

As Sunday was nominally a day of rest and prayer for the city of Colmar, 
the arrogant Oberst commanding the Fifth Uhlan Regiment permitted the 
citizens to attend their churches without imposing any additional martial 
edicts. However, just as he had done at the flogging and hanging of the

unfortunate Bertha Morin, he ordered a cavalry detachment to patrol the 
streets to prevent any possible uprising or acts of rebellion protesting 
that brutal execution.

But the horsemen, sweating in their stiff uniforms and under the spiked 
helmets under the sweltering sun, did little more than parade their mounts 
back and forth, cursing under their breath this summons to duty on a day 
they would usually have had free. For there were no acts of retaliation; 
the good burgers of Colmar were still stupefied by the show of ruthless and
merciless military might which had dominated their city and put an end to 
their easy going liberty.

Thus it was that Kapitan Heinrich von Luber was able to report to the 
Oberst that "Alles ist in gates Ordnung, mein Kommandant! I have no doubt 
that the punishment you so justly meted out to that French murderess has 
had a most salutary effect upon the people."

"Naurlichl" the portly commander declared. "I intend to use stringent 
means to preserve order at all times, so that Colmar may become a 
thoroughly German city, von Luber. But now, as for you, have you found 
suitable living quarters?"

"Indeed I have, mein Oberst!" the tall black-haired captain smiling 
retorted, with a knowing wink. "My good friend von Wollenz and I have 
really been most fortunate. We're lodging with a very delightful widow and 
her beautiful young daughter."

"You lucky dog," Ernst von Bruckmann snickered. "Well, I can't say I am 
badly off. I'm at the major's house, as you know. And the housekeeper has 
been most obliging, even on my very first night in Colmar.

There are some pretty maids I mean to watch to see if they are properly 
patriotic too, because one can't be too careful these days! Even a child 
can shoot a pistol or a rifle and murder one of our fine soldiers, von 
Luber."

"I quite agree with your strategy, Herr Kommandant," the black-haired 
captain avowed. "As a matter-of-fact, this widow who is putting von Wollenz
and me up doesn't seem to care much for the war."

"Ach so? How do you know that, von Luber?"

"Well, perhaps I really shouldn't say anything."

"Nonsense, man! It is your duty as a Junker. We are at war, and if you 
suspect the slightest sympathy for the French, it is your bounden 
obligation as an officer in my regiment to bring it to my attention. Out 
with it, man!"

"It was really only a chance remark, sir."

"Nonetheless, it may have greater meaning than you think. Let me hear it 
at once! And that's an order, von Luber!"

The black-haired captain shrugged. Now he regreted having made that slip 
of the tongue, because gorgeous Hilde Grasser and that sweet golden-haired 
young piece of Arsch Magdelena, were going to get into trouble. He would 
have much preferred to have handled their punishment for treasonable 
utterance quite by himself.

So, with an eloquent shrug, he said banteringly, "Well, after all, it was
a hot afternoon, and the poor woman just heard that her husband, a major in
the reserves, had been killed at Sedan. All she said was that it was a pity
that a man in his forties should be called up and have to die when there 
were so many strong young soldiers."

"She said that, did she? Schrechlichl That is exactly the sort of maudlin
thinking that we can't have if the German nation is to lead the world, as 
our beloved Chancellor Bismarck intends it should!" Ernst von Bruckmann 
declared, smacking his pudgy fist into the other palm and giving the 
black-haired captain an angry look. "Is that all she said?"

"Only that the French and the Germans had lived side by side in Colmar 
for generations, sir, and that it was a pity to disrupt this harmony for a 
diplomatic war."

"Der Teufel!" the portly Oberst, who sat in his newly acquired offices at
the town hall, rose from the chair and paced the floor, with his hands 
clasped behind his back, his face flushed with anger. "Von Luber, if you 
were in my place, what would you do with those two traitorous bitches?"

"Well, I think a reprimand from Your Excellency will suffice in this 
instance," Heinrich von Luber tried to placate his superior officer.

"You're becoming a weakling, von Luber! You know what I'm going to do? 
I'm going, to hale that bitch and her daughter before me this very 
afternoon, that is what I'm going to do. I'm going to have a tribunal and 
some of the most important people in this city. And then I'm going to have 
her and her daughter stripped and given a good thrashing on the bare Arsch,
to teach them what we expect of women who belong to the family of a good 
German soldier who won glory by giving up his life for Deutschland! You 
will see to it that this woman and her daughter are here before me at three
o'clock this afternoon, verstehe?"

Heinrich von Luber saluted smartly, nodded, and left the town hall. He 
was cursing himself all the way back to the beautiful widow's house. He 
could have arranged to give each of them a good hard spanking with the flat
of his hand on the naked Arsch, and tell them that it was that or a public 
whipping and disgrace before the entire town. Now, Gott verdamte, that fat 
old swine von Bruckmann was going to hog all the fun for himself.

That prospect was not at all pleasant to the sadistic young captain, so 
cunningly he proposed: "Herr Oberst, what if I succeed in obtaining an 
apology from Frau Grasser? I'm sure that her remarks were said under the 
stress of her bereavement and I should hate to be the one responsible for 
her suffering because in the confidence of this private audience with you, 
my Kommandant, I divulged a casual conversation between her and myself. I 
should feel like an informer, mein Oberst."

The portly Junker pursed his fleshy mouth and scowled thoughtfully. Then 
his beady little eyes gleamed with lubricity. "Well, perhaps I am being too
strict," he conceded. "I tell you what, von Luber, if this bitch will come 
to me herself privately and acknowledge her indiscretion, with the 
understanding that she will be properly grateful for my leniency, I will 
spare her the public whipping. See if you can talk her into that. Tell me,"
this with a bawdy wink, "is she a handsome piece of kootzle?"

"Very much so, Herr Oberst. She's as tall as an Amazon, with fine black 
hair and soft skin and the big brown eyes of a doe. And what a figure she 
has, Herr Oberst!"

"Unglaublich!" the commander of the Fifth Uhlans grinned and winked 
again. "Very good, von Luber.

Tell you what, have her come to my room at the mayor's house tonight at 
eleven. Tell her to wear a coat and under it just a nightshift. That will 
show me at once that she is in a humble and submissive mood, and I shall be
ready to accept her apology. But now this daughter, this Magdelena-"

"Leave her to me, Excellenz," Heinrich von Luber eagerly interposed. 
"I'll see to it personally that she doesn't go around repeating seditious 
remarks against the Vaterland!"

"Very good, my boy. I knew I could rely on you. Keep this up, and you 
will be a major before the campaign is over. Now I've work to do, so go 
back to your tall widow and break the news to her.

Understand, if she doesn't like the idea, she can settle instead to have 
herself stripped bare as a worm before the town hall and all the people, 
and I'll have a good birchrod laid across her arse by my orderly."

Heinrich von Luber went back to the house whose occupants he had already 
betrayed, gleefully working out in his mind details of how he would proceed
against the daughter tonight when the mother kept her rendezvous with Ernst
von Bruckmann.

The servant girl Minnie let him in with respectful deference, and 
informed him that her mistress was preparing tea in the kitchen and would 
be pleased if he would join her. Minnie also added that Franz von Wollenz 
was already back from maneuvers and in the kitchen with her mistress.

Heinrich von Luber frowned and nursed his chin as he pondered the 
problem. The only trouble with that soft handsome baby of a von Wollenz was
that he was utterly squeamish. Actually, he didn't belong in the Fifth 
Uhlans at all. He was one of those pure idealistic souls who put a woman on
a pedestal and never looked up to see what kind of underwear is covering 
her kootzle. And if he found out that his hostess had just been sentenced 
without her knowledge to either a public flogging or a fucking in private 
by the Herr Oberst, doubtless von Wollenz would make all sorts of indignant
protestations, maybe even commit the stupidity of going directly to the 
Kommandant and pleading for these women!

Yes he was going to have to eliminate von Wollenz and as quickly as 
possible. Franz was getting in his way, and then there was the inheritance 
and golden-haired young Kathe back in Dusseldorf to acquire.

He went into the kitchen, and found the blond young lieutenant helping 
Hilde Grasser cut a newly baked cake and serve it on some of the most 
magnificent Dresden china he had ever seen. His lips curled scornfully; 
Franz was always one to do woman's work, even with a maid around. How could
a sentimental weak-livered fool like him get a commission in this regiment?

"Good afternoon, Frau Grasser," Henrich von Luber smartly saluted, his 
hand to his spiked helmet. "May I have a word with you in private? Oh, good
afternoon, Franz. I've just come from the Herr Oberst. He bids me to bring 
you a message to Frau Grasser, you understand. Would you mind leaving us, 
Franz?"

"Of course not, Heinrich. You'll excuse me, Frau Grasser?"

The beautiful tall black-haired widow smiled and inclined her head. 
"Naturlich, Leutnant."

Then after he had gone, she turned to the black-haired captain. "You have
a message from your commanding officer for me, Herr Kapitan?"

"And it is most difficult for me. I don't know how to begin this-"

"Why don't you simply say what you have to say, Captain, and spare me 
your hypocritical reflections?"

Was Hilde Grasser's astonishingly candid parry.

He turned red with anger at the affront, drew himself up stiffly. "Frau 
Grasser, it's indiscreet of you to show disrespect for an officer of my 
rank or indeed, to my entire regiment. The Kommandant, as a matter-of-fact,
had just discussed with me his unpleasant surprise at hearing your opinions
on the war.

It was all I could do to prevail upon him, you understand."

"What are you trying to tell me, Captain von Luber? And as to my remarks 
on the war, how could he have known of them unless you told him?" Lovely 
black-haired widowed Hilde Grasser demanded as her eyes fixed on him a 
scornful and almost contemptuous look.

"It is my duty to report whatever sedition I find here in Colmar, 
Madame," he angrily and coldly retorted, "even if I find it in the home of 
my hostess. We are at war, need I remind you?"

"No, that you don't have to do, thank you very much!" she angrily 
interrupted, with her eyes blazing and her cheeks red at the sudden fury of
her emotion. "You are forgetting that I lost my husband only a few days 
ago, and you intrude upon me, compel me to take you and your friend in as 
my boarders and then because I express myself in outrage and horror against
a war that takes so many lives so uselessly and needlessly, you run off 
like a sneaking school boy to tell your teacher, your Herr Oberst. Now how 
did you prevail upon him, and what does he intend to do? I demand to know 
the truth. I will not hide it from you, Captain von Luber, I detest you 
both as a man and an officer. If my husband were alive and if you were in 
his regiment, he would make certain that you were cashiered on a 
dishonorable discharge."

"Why you-" Heinrich von Luber snarled. He drew back his gloved right hand
and slapped her face viciously. Hilde Grasser tottered, clutched at the 
sink for support, and then straightened, a mocking smile curving her lovely
mouth. "It is about what I had expected of you, Captain von Luber. Now will
you have the kindness to tell me the gist of your conversation with the 
commanding officer?"

"I will, you uppity bourgeois bitch," he sneered. "Do you know what he 
wanted to do with you? Have you and your daughter brought before a 
tribunal, Frau Grasser and sentence you to a public whipping.

His orderly, a corporal who used to be a school teacher, was going to use
a birch on your naked Arsch for everyone to watch. I had to talk him out of
it, and now I'm sorry I did, if this is the thanks I get."

"Oh yes, I should be most thankful and grateful to you, Captain von 
Luber." Her voice dripped with scorn as she stared levelly at him. "All 
this would never have happened if you had kept my remarks in confidence, as
befits a guest I take into my home on such an occasion when I am mourning 
for my husband. So he wishes to have me whipped-"

"And your daughter too," von Luber gloatingly broke in.

The beautiful tall widow uttered a choking cry, her hand against her 
mouth, as her eyes widened with horror. "Nicht das!" she panted. "But 
Magdelena has done nothing-oh my lord, why does he want to have her whipped
like that?"

"Because the daughter learns from the mother, Madame. For all I know, she
may be as seditious as yourself. However, don't worry so. I told you that I
managed to finally talk to the Herr Oberst into being more reasonable. You 
will accept the apology instead of being whipped. You are to go to him this
evening at the mayor's house and ask for him there. He will be in his room 
awaiting you at eleven o'clock tonight, Madame."

She stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then she entered a 
stiffled wordless cry, and her cheeks turned a fiery red. "So that's it!" 
she gasped, her voice strangled with shame and rage. "If I give myself to 
your commanding officer, if I satisfy his lust, he'll be kind enough to let
me off the whipping that no manly, decent officer would ever order in the 
first place, certainly not to the widow of a man who gave his life in the 
service of the German army! So this is his mercy and yours, no doubt! I 
despise you both!"

"But that is no answer, Frau Grasser."

"I would rather be whipped to death than let that fat swine, that 
sadistic brute who hanged that poor woman at the lamppost the other day, 
touch me, do you understand? You are his creature; go back to him and tell 
him that I will submit myself to the flogging, because the people of this 
town will be beside me in spirit and they will give me courage enough to 
bear the agony and the humiliation. But I could not live with myself, I 
could not purge my soul if I lay with that filthy pervert!"

"You dare to insult the Herr Oberst?" Again he struck her across the 
face, and this time she staggered, and put her hand to the corner of her 
mouth, which was bleeding. "All right, you stubborn bitch, I'll go back to 
him and tell him what you have just said. You mark my words, Frau Grasser, 
you'll be down on your knees begging him to take you to bed after his 
orderly starts using that birchrod on your fine lady-like naked backside!" 
He savagely spat out the last words, turned on his heels and strode out of 
the house.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Heinrich von Luber swore under his breath as he left the kitchen, savagely 
angered by the brave and contemptuous rejection of Hilde Grasser. 
"Verdammte bitch-she must have French blood in her veins,"

he said to himself. He had half a mind to go directly to the Kommandant, 
when a cunning plan leaped into his mind. He'd go to Magdelena instead, 
tell her that her mother's safety depended on her exact obedience to his 
orders. He'd seen the loyalty between them, the devotion and love which the
young seventeen-year-old golden-haired girl had for her superb Amazonian 
mother. Well, he'd make use of it.

And so, instead of going back to the town hall to report to Ernst von 
Bruckmann that Hilde Grasser had refused the alternative which would have 
saved her a public whipping, the black-haired sadistic Junker captain went 
instead to the room of lovely young Magdelena and knocked at the door. She 
had gone back to her room to get a headscarf, for she and her mother 
intended to take a walk this afternoon and she wanted to protect herself 
from the scorching sun which beat down relentlessly upon the cobbled 
streets of Colmar.

"Come in!" her sweet young voice called, and he turned the knob of the 
door and entered.

She uttered a gasp and stepped back against the huge mahogany bureau 
whose top drawer she had just opened. "Yes? What-what do you want, Herr 
Kapitan?" she quavered.

His eyes devoured her. Gott, she was a tasty armful, and what hips and 
legs and Butzen! She had on a white muslin blouse, and those sweet 
highperched titties of hers were pressing out the material as if reaching 
towards his hands. Her black cotton skirt, for all its long length which 
descended to her ankles, hugged the lithe hips and emphasized the beauty of
her long, sculptured legs. She blushed now, revealing the wonderful pink 
and white texture of her smooth young skin, and her big blue eyes were 
enormous as they fixed on him, startled as she was by his unexpected 
intrusion.

"I must talk to you, Fraulein Magdelena," he said quickly. "This is a 
secret between ourselves, and you're not to discuss it with your mother. 
She's in great danger, believe me, Fraulein Magdelena."

"In danger? But I don't understand, Herr Kapitan!"

"Listen, Magdelena," he moved towards her and grasped her hand between 
both of his. She tried to pull away, but she was like a bird caught in the 
net, and his magnetic, animal vigor dominated her. "My commanding officer, 
Magdelena, has had it brought to his attention that your mother doesn't 
like this war, and that she's upset because your father was killed in it 
and shouldn't have been."

"But that's true-and I feel the same way please let go of my hand, Herr 
Kapitan von Luber!"

"Now you listen to me! Did you hear about that Frenchwoman who was 
whipped and then hanged from the lamppost the other day? This is war time, 
and don't you forget it. The Kommandant told me that I was to exercise my 
own judgment. Now, if I turn in a favorable report on your mother, they 
won't whip-

"

"Whip my mother? Ach, Gott, it can't be possible!" Now her big blue eyes 
were wide with horror and she stared at him almost piteously. He felt his 
prick begin to throb and ache, and the relish of his anticipation grew 
within him. He'd fuck this sweet virgin bitch or know the reason why.

"Because, Magdelena, no army can afford to have treasonable things said 
about it when it's occupying one of the most important cities in a 
province, just as Colmar is here. He told me that if I thought it 
necessary, I was to take your mother to the town hall before a tribunal and
then they would sentence her to be stripped naked-do you understand, 
absolutely naked in front of everyone! And whipped with a birch rod."

"Oh stop it, stop it, for the love of the lord, Kapitan von Luber!" 
Magdelena Grasser sobbed, covering her face with her hands, bowing her head
and bursting into tears.

"Now don't cry, Liebchen," Heinrich von Luber soothingly murmured, as he 
moved closer to her and put an arm around her waist. "Listen to me, 
Magdelena. I can save your mother. The Kommandant is a good friend of mine,
and he will listen to me. I'll make him fprget about what your mother said,
and I'll see to it that she isn't brought before the tribunal today."

The ingenuous young virgin, horrified at what the sadistic Junker officer
had just intimated, lowered her hands from her tearstained face and stared 
at him piteously: "Oh, Herr Kapitan, if you will only do that, I shall be 
sO grateful! It would kill my mother-the shame of "it."

"But that depends on you, my dear one," he grinned, his arm tightening 
around her waist, while he breathed in the fresh perfume of her soft body 
and the sweet natural scent of her golden hair.

"I don't understand-"

"Listen, it's very simple. If you will come to my room tonight, when 
everyone's asleep, Magdelena, I swear to you that your mother won't be 
punished that way. I'll speak to the Kommandant, you have my word."

She stared at him with widened, horrified eyes, her mouth open, her 
magnificent young pear titties heaving. Then a furious blush suffused her 
pink and white cheeks and she lowered her eyes and stammered, "You mean, 
you want me to give myself to you? And if I do, you'll save my mother?"

"Yes, that's exactly it, Magdelena. Well, what's it to be."

She shuddered. Tears came to her eyes, and she saw through their blur the
smirking face of the black-haired sadistic young Junker. Then falteringly 
she murmured, "I-I'll do what you want. I have your word that you'll speak 
to the K-Kommandantr, "Ja, wirklich, Magdelena. Now you're showing sense, 
my girl.

I'm not such a bad fellow, and I can make life easier for you and your 
mother here in Colmar while we are occupying the city. At eleven o'clock 
then, I'll be expecting you, do you understand?"

Heinrich von Luber turned on his heel and left Magdelena Grasser's 
bedroom....

"IVe talked to the mother, Herr Oberst." Heinrich von Luber had returned 
to the town hall to confront Ernst von Bruckmann. "I told her what the 
alternative would be. She was quite impressed."

"I thought she might be." The portly commander of the Fifth Uhlans 
sniggered. "And what did she say to you, von Luber?"

"Well, it can't be tonight, mein Kommandant. Believe it or not, she's 
still quite a young piece of kootzele, in spite of having a girl of 
seventeen. And it seems she has, well, you know, sir, what a woman has 
every month."

"All right. You tell her to make herself ready at midnight, and I'll make
her forget she's a widow, and that's a promise. But understand, if she 
doesn't keep the appointment, on the following afternoon in the public 
square, she'll have her fine patrician Arson stripped bare and then she'll 
feel a birch on her bare flesh till the blood runs down her stockings. 
Dismissed!"

Hilde Grasser had served the two officers supper with Minnie assisting. 
The usually emptyheaded and frivolous bucktoothed young maid, impressed by 
her mistress' brooding silence and poignant look, had held her tongue and 
wisely refrained from prying into what could have made such a strained 
relationship in this household with those two terribly handsome young 
officers. Minnie herself had eyes for the young blond Franz von Wollenz, 
but in return the young lieutenant was thinking of his affianced, Greta 
Imhoff. He was also comparing the sweet and timid Magdelena to his own 
lovely young sister Kathe, who had golden hair too, and to whom he wrote 
whenever he could.

Heinrich von Luber enjoyed his meal of roast pork and potatoes and 
sauerkraut, with a superb ample dumpling and good strong coffee. Throughout
the meal he kept staring pointedly at tall black-haired Hilde Grasser, but 
she avoided his gaze steadfastly and tried to engage his younger companion 
in conversation. And since by nature he was almost as ingenuous as 
Magdelena, Hilde Grasser found him a welcome relief from the odious and 
obvious lechery of Heinrich von Luber.

The meal over, the latter took occasion to move towards the tall 
black-haired widow and whispered into her ear, "I've talked to the 
Kommandant, Frau Grasser. Hell give you until tomorrow. Better think it 
over." She had simply stiffened and turned pale, then given him such a look
of hate and contempt that he ground his teeth and swore to be present when 
she was taken down from that pedestal of hers. But Magdelena, having 
observed this swift and clandestine one-sided conversation, innocently 
believed that Heinrich von Luber was telling her mother that he had averted
the shameful punishment which hung over her head....

It was eleven o'clock when von Luber, wearing just his breeches and boots
and a robe over his hairy, wiry torso, tiptoed down the hall towards 
Magdelena's room. Then he knocked quickly three times, whispering, "Let me 
in, it's Heinrich!"

After a moment's pause, the door opened and Magdelena stood, her eyes 
swollen with tears, in a coarse white muslin nightshift which fell to her 
dainty feet, which were bare. He began to shudder with lust, knowing that 
under that shift she was virgin-naked. Quickly he slipped inside, closed 
the door and

bolted it. "Now, my little pigeon," he whispered as he put his hands to 
her waist, "I'm going to make you very happy. I talked to the Oberst, and 
it won't happen."

"Oh, thank Gott! I think I should die if anything like that happened to 
dear Mutterlein!" the young girl tearfully stammered.

"And now, you're going to be a good sweet girl and keep your part of the 
bargain, aren't you, Magdelena?" he whispered hoarsely. His hands moved up 
to her firm pear-titties, and cupped them through the shift. The virginal 
golden-haired Magdelena uttered a choking little cry and brushed away his 
hands, moving back until her bottom bumped against the edge of the huge 
canopied bed.

She let her hands fall to her sides and, her eyes closed and her head 
still bowed, dully murmured, "Do what you want-only give me your word of 
honor as an officer that you won't let anything happen to Mutterlein!"

"Of course, you have it, little one," he hoarsely explained, unable any 
longer to hold back his passion for her voluptuous young lithe body. "Now, 
to prove that you mean to keep your bargain too, take off your shirt, 
Magdelena! I want you naked, I want to see all of you, little pigeon!"

The girl groaned aloud in her despair. Then, trembling convulsively in 
every limb, she stooped and caught up the hems of the long white shift in 
her slim fingers and drew it hesitantly upwards, inch by inch, little 
realizing that even in this piteously virginal reluctance, she inflamed him
as if she were a music hall dancer performing the most provocative of 
disrobings. His eyes fixed on her bare calves and the dimpled knees, and 
then on the slender pink and white sheened beauty of her lower thighs as 
her fingers hesitantly lofted her final veil.

At mid-thigh, she halted the ascent of the shift, and fixed him with so 
poignant and despairing a look that it would have melted the heart of a 
statue. But to that anguished virginal entreaty, Heinrich von Luber 
returned only the most sardonic of reactions: "Don't keep me waiting, 
Magdelena! Pull it off now and have done with it, before I rip it from you!
Because if I have to, I'll thrash you into being submissive to me."

"Oh, Gott forgive me my shamelessness, my wickedness, but it's for my 
mother!" the tortured young girl moaned as she lifted her eyes to the 
ceiling in an ultimate appeal. And then, closing her eyes, and with a 
muffled groan, she tugged the shift up over her crotch and belly, over the 
proud pears of her heaving titties, and let it drop to the floor and stood 
naked before the black-haired Junker.

His eyes blazed at that graceful, smoothskinned nudity, at the crisp 
dark-golden fleece which concealed the virgin mount-which she at once 
covered with a trembling palm-at the exquisite narrow, deep kiss-nook which
was her navel, at the slender and graceful waist, and the lovely titties 
with their narrow dark coral aureolae in whose centers there nestled 
tender, crinkly pink buds, as yet unfl-edged by the turgescence of carnal 
passion.

Her head bowed, great tears running down her cheeks, her hand pressed 
over her mount, she stood thus in self-offertory, while the excited Junker 
swiftly doffed his robe and then hastily unbuttoned his breeches to expose 
the savagely menacing weapon of his phallus. Delving his right hand into 
the pocket of his breeches, he drew out one of his heavy leather gloves 
and, a cruel smile on his sadistic mouth, approached the helpless naked 
virgin. "That's very good, Magdelena," he hoarsely approved, "but I don't 
want an inanimate statue in bed with me, you pretty bitch. You're going to 
be nice to me. You're going to do everything I tell you to. If I'm the 
least displeased with you, you know what that will mean for your mother. Do
you understand me?"

"Ja-ja, Herr K-K-Kapitan," she tearfully quavered.

"Sihr gut! Then show it! Get down on your knees now and put your arms 
around my legs, Magdelena!"

he growled, slapping the heavy leather glove against his thigh.

"Oh, Herr Kapitan, please be kind and gentle with me. I never have with 
any man before. Have pity on me, Herr Kapitan!" the weeping golden-haired 
girl petitioned.

Her exquisite and ingenuous timidity served only to inflame the sadist. 
He drew back the leather glove and struck her across one of her firm young 
titties, using the fingers like the thong of a whip. She uttered a cry of 
agony and consternation as she clutched at her loveglobe with both hands, 
staring at him with horror.

"I am used to being obeyed, Fraulein," he growled, "so do as I tell you 
without delay or I'll thrash you!

Now get down on your knees and put your arms around my legs-that's better
now!" for sobbing as if her heart would break, the naked girl sank down on 
her knees and, tears flowing uncontrollably down her flushed cheeks, slowly
wound her beautiful supple satiny-smooth arms around his thighs.

The fingers of his left hand plunged into her shimmering hair and 
twisted, tilting up her face towards the monstrously obscene rigid shaft of
his virility. "Now then, you sweet bitch," his voice shook with unbridled 
lust, "take the oath of a serf to me, your lord and master, Magdelena! Say,
T swear on my knees to do all that you will require of me, my master!' Say 
it, you lovely naked bitch, if you want to save your dear Mutterlein!"

In a dying voice broken by sobs, the genuflecting naked girl repeated 
that ignoble formula of self-debasement.

"Now, kiss my Schwartz, Magdelena, to bind that oath which a peasant girl
would take upon my estate as a Junker to show her fealty to her sovereign 
lord!" he insisted.

Her eyes bulged with horror as, virgin though she was, she comprehended 
his lubricious meaning. Her face was suddenly suffused with crimson from 
temples to throat and her lips began to tremble piteously. Then she averted
her face to one side, whimpering, "Oh no-not anything like that-it's vile. 
Oh, don't treat me like a slut! Have pity on me, Herr Kapitan!"

He lifted the leather glove in his right hand, his face a twisted mask of
sadistic fury. Then reason made him hold back the blow, and awareness that 
her cries might waken her sleeping mother and the servant Minnie, and worst
of all, that milksop Franz von Wollenz. "We'll see about that, you stubborn
little bitch!" he hissed. Pocketing the glove, he strode over to the 
discarded nightshift, picked it up and ripped a strip from the bodice. 
Then, going back to the terrified and whimpering naked girl, he pulled out 
a handkerchief from the lefthand pocket of his breeches, and viciously 
stuffed it into her mouth. As her hands came up to defend herself, he 
backhanded her viciously across the cheek, and then swiftly wound the torn 
strip of the shift round her mouth and knotted it tightly at the back of 
her neck. "If you dare to undo that gag, Magdelena, it'll be all up with 
your precious mother," he gloatingly whispered as he bent to her, his prick
bobbing with its darkveined turgidity.

"Now we'll take up where we left off, verstehe? Your arms around my legs 
at once again-that's it now-and now, rub your cheek nicely against my 
Schwartz and then take your hands and hold those fine firm titties of yours
and squeeze them againt my Schwartz, to let me know you want to go to bed 
with me!

Do it, Magdelena, or your mother gets the birch on her naked Arsch before
the entire populace of Colmar!"

The unfortunate naked girl had begun to tremble violently. Once again his
right hand tugged the leather glove from his pocket and held it above her 
like a five-thonged whip as he leered down at her. The lips of his prick 
convulsively opened and clenched as the savage urge to couple with her took
almost maniacal possession of his flesh. With a muffled cry of terror, 
Magdelena leaned forward to him, her tearstained cheek rubbing against the 
tip of his penis, and he felt her panting warm breath against his throbbing
organ. "Gut! Gut!" he urged in a lust-thickened voice. "Now do the other 
thing I told you to, and quickly, little bitch!"

Again her desolate, tear-swollen eyes rose to that lust-twisted, cruel 
face, and again that poignant supplication of a virgin at bay only inflamed
his ruthless lust the more. And though she was untutored till this moment 
in the brutal ways of the ravager, Magdelena agonizedly comprehended that 
only surrender to his will could spare her pain and added degradation 
beyond that supreme sacrifice she was prepared to make to save her 
beautiful black-haired widowed mother from the torture and humiliation of 
public chastisement. Her slim fingers trembled as they fitted to the satiny
outer curve of her heaving young titties, as she crouched forward towards 
him, closing her eyes to spare herself the awareness of what she was about 
to do. And then he groaned aloud in lubricious ecstasy as he felt those 
firm warm palpitating lovepears pressed against his rampant prick, holding 
it in that sweet vise which her lovely naked bosom made. He ground his 
teeth to hold back the urge to ejaculate ayl his bubbling essence and again
his fingers twisted in her hair to keep her at that perverse ministration 
so that he might savor the full gamut of her overwrought maidenly emotions 
and so she herself would realize with torturing anguish the depravity of 
which he made her sink.

"Ach, sehr gut!" he panted. "Now rub yourself back and forth, still 
holding them, you lovely Utile whore!

Wunderbar. Now that's enough! To bed with you, get on your back and open 
those sweet legs for my Schwartz, which you've so nicely invited!"

In this servile pose, she unwittingly presented Heinrich von Luber with 
the intoxicating glimpse of the pink twitching fig of her virgin cunthole 
framed by the dark-golden curls, as well as the tight sinuosity of the 
cleft which separated her resilient bottomcheeks.

The sight of her bottom thus presented to him as she made to crawl on all
fours onto the bed and then turn over to yield herself, distracted him from
his obsessive urge to fuck her.

Swiftly, he clamped his left arm around her waist, maintaining her thus 
in all fours position, and lifting his right hand, began to whip her 
lunging, squirming naked bottomcheeks with the fingers of the hard leather 
glove.

As he saw the angry bright splotches leap upon those enticing, virginal 
contours, saw her hips lunge and weave, heard her muffled cries and saw her
face twist back in indescribable supplication, all the sadistic violence of
his nature was unleashed. "I'll teach you to obey me, little Dime!" he 
panted between blows.

"Before I'm done with you, Magdelena, you'll crawl at my feet and lick my
boots and beg me to put my Schwartz into that hoity-toity kootzele of 
yours!" Now, as his gloating sense of power over the unfortunate young girl
mounted, he took more careful aim and, lowering the glove, swept up the 
black

fingers between her shaking, parted thighs, attacking the tender mount of
love itself, the abdomen, the groin and inner thighs, as poor Magdelena 
Grasser finally flung herself flat on his belly and kicked her naked legs 
and wailed in anguish, clasping her hands ahead of her and holding them out
as in prayer for pardon.

Kneeling beside her, his left palm bearing down the small of her back, 
von Luber flogged the weeping, wriggling golden-haired young victim, his 
right arm rising and falling furiously, slashing the glove all over her 
crimsoning and bounding buttocks. But when the frantic, high-pitched sound 
of her cries threatened to burst even through the impoverished gag, he 
stopped, panting, dripping with lust-sweat, his eyes blazing. Then, seizing
her by the waist, he turned her over onto her back and fell upon her.

His mouth fixed on one of her palpitating soft pink nipples, which he 
rolled about between his teeth, stabbing at it with the tip of his tongue 
as his prickhead sought the sweet young fig of her virgin cunthole. 
Magdelena thrashed wildly, twisting her face to one side and pushing at his
hairy, sweating chest to avert this supreme disaster, but the merciless 
flogging and the horror of the situation had weakened her beyond long 
resistance. With a grunting gasp of lustful pleasure, von Luber felt his 
prickhead pry between the delicate lips of her pussy and prod against the 
membrane of her virgin seal.

Brutally, sucking his teeth, he lunged, and her wild, muffled shriek as 
her body arched like a bow beneath him, attested to the pangs of that 
ruthless laceration.

Then, his hands gripping her wris ts and forcing them out in cross on 
either side of her, he began to fuck her with a rapacity and brutality such
as he would have used on a common whore. And when it was over, Magdelena 
lay half-fainting under him, whimpering and broken, the sheets stained with
the blood of her despoiled virginity.

"There now, you little slut," he panted as he lifted himself from her, 
his dwindled bloodied organ satiated at last. "Now you know what it's like 
to have a man between your legs, Magdelena! And listen to me carefully, 
you're going to come to bed with me whenever I crook my finger at you, is 
that understood? Otherwise, your mother gets it good! Next time," he added 
boastfully as he got down from the bed and stood staring greedily at her 
shuddering naked sprawled body, "it'll be more fun for you, you'll be used 
to my ways. I'll bet you're just as hot as that saintly mother of yours, 
when you get right down to it. Well, gute nacht, liebchen. Maybe it'll be 
tomorrow night."

He donned his robe and, without another look at the unfortunate 
whimpering girl, left her room and went back to his own.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Heinrich von Luber woke the next morning thoroughly contented with himself,
till suddenly conscience began to twinge. What if Magdalena went and told 
her mother how he had forced her to submit last night? As he swung his long
hairy legs out of bed, scratched his chest and yawned, he thought about the
matter. Then he grinned. She'd been too scared for that, too afraid for 
dear Mutterlein. No, she wouldn't say anything. Besides, he was the master 
here, and all these civilians might as well realize that once and for all. 
And if her mother dared to protest, even assuming Magdelene had had the 
guts to confess her virginal loss, he could bluster and threaten to turn 
her over to Oberst Ernst von Bruckmann.

The fat Kommandant of the German forces in Colmar had momentarily 
forgotten the commanded rendezvous with Hilde Grasser. First of all, last 
night, the tearful housekeeper, Agatha Blomberg, had come to his room at 
midnight as he had commmanded, and he had had a magnificent time. He'd made
her strip absolutely naked in front of him, and then take off everything 
except his breeches and boots, after which he had made her go down on her 
knees, unbutton his breeches, take out his Schwanz and kiss and lick it 
lovingly. When she'd shown distaste for this chore, he'd taken his belt to 
her naked Arsch and even her big splendid till she'd run around the room, 
her bottom and backside jiggling like ripe fruit from the vine, wailing to 
him to spare her and finally breaking down and promising to do everything 
he wanted. And she had kept her promise too, under the menace of his belt. 
First he'd made her lick his boots and apologize for putting up such a 
struggle. Then she'd had to kiss and lick his cock and balls, and after 
that beg him to give her a good thrashing on the bare behind because she'd 
been such a naughty girl. He'd made her bend over the foot of the bed and 
grip the coverlet with her hands, pressing her mouth against it to stifle 
her outcries while he'd planted himself behind her, his prick swollen and 
aching as it thrust boldly out of his fly, and laid the belt onto her big 
soft bottomglobes. He'd given her about twenty before she'd broken down 
again and hysterically pleaded with him to have her. And he'd made her get 
down on her knees again and really beg for it, using all the dirty words 
she knew, like, "Please, dear Herr Oberst, put your big hard into my little
kootzele and fuck me hard, I'm begging you to do it to me!"

So he was in rare good humor on this still murderously hot day, and, far 
from remembering Hilde Grasser, he was thinking greedily of how best to 
inveigle the pretty maids of Mayor Drucker's household. Even more than 
that, he had noticed tawny-skinned black-haired Marlene and auburn-haired, 
mature Linda Druker with brooding desire, nor had he overlooked the 
handsome brown-haired forty-one-year old Clara in his lecherous appraisal 
of this made-to-order harem....

Heinrich von Luber had been accurate in his estimate of young 
golden-haired Magdelena Grasser's temperament. After his brutal rape of her
the night before, the young girl had hidden the bloodstained sheets which 
told her violation, sponged herself as best she could, and lain awake 
through most of the night weeping and pondering her shame. The two officers
had left for maneuvers early the next morning, directly after taking coffee
and rolls in the kitchen, which Minnie served them. Hilde Grasser was still
abed, she had told them, and so was Magdelena. Heinrich von Luber glanced 
nervously at his blond companion, but Franz von Wollenz was busy eating his
hasty breakfast and, of course, had no such problems of conscience to 
disturb his repast.

When they returned in the late afternoon, Hilde Grasser was sewing in the
parlor. She regarded Heinrich von Luber with cold contempt, but managed to 
offer a comparatively gracious welcome to the young lieutenant. Magdelena 
had not told her mother of the terrible assault that had taken place in her
own virginal bedchamber last night. She had pleaded an indisposition and 
her mother had accepted this explanation for her failure to appear at the 
luncheon table. Nor did she, indeed, appear at dinner, having Minnie bring 
a tray to her room and continuing to plead her female indisposition, so 
that the tall stately black-haired widow was left alone at the dinner table
with the two Junker officers. After Franz von Wollenz had finished his meal
and courteously thanked Hilde Grasser and Minnie, he excused himself and 
went back to his room to write a letter to his fiancee Greta Imhoff. 
Heinrich von Luber rose from the table, lighting a cheroot as he stared 
avidly at the silent Amazonian beauty who was finishing her coffee. "Have 
you thought about what I told you yesterday, Frau Grasser?" he quietly 
asked.

She set her coffee cup down with a clatter on the saucer, looked up at 
him with implacable hatred in her lovely poignant Madonna-like face: "My 
answer will always be the same. If you German butchers make war on helpless
women, I cannot prevent you, but I can pray God to avenge the dishonor 
which your kind sees fit to inflict upon me, to avenge what my poor dead 
husband cannot! That is my answer to you, Herr Kapitan!"

She rose from the table, clasping her hands so tightly that her knuckles 
whitened. "I beg of you, as a human being, Herr Kapitan," she said in a 
trembling low voice, "to spare Magdelena. I don't care about myself, and I 
would rather die than give myself to the leader of these heartless soldiers
who are forced upon us without any regard for our feelings in the name of 
war. But Magdelena is only seventeen, she has been sheltered, adored by her
father and by me, and she has never known any ugliness. I implore you not 
to force it upon her now."

"I could be induced, Frau Grasser, to speak a word in her behalf with the
Kommandant," he insinuated, as he came closer to her, his eyes boldly 
studying her sumptuous body in that black dress of mourning.

Her cheeks flamed and she suddered as she closed her eyes. "You want the 
same thing of me Kommandant does, I see," she said after a pause. "But what
assurance have I that you would keep your word? You are only a captain, and
the has the rank of colonel."

"I am his right-hand liaison officer," von Luber lied, "and he has always
been like a father to me. I have only to tell him that Magdalena has had no
part of these unfortunate remarks which I have heard in this house, and he 
will believe me as he would the Holy Gospel."

"I see," She bowed her head and her shoulders trembled as she tried to 
stifle back the sobs of shame and despair that crowded in upon her. "I will
make a bargain with you, then, Herr Kapitan von Luber.

You-you may have me tonight In return, you will give me your solemn oath 
that no harm will come to Magdelena and that you will not once again, while
you are quartered in my house, approach me on any term of intimacy because 
of tonight. Is that plenty understood?"

"Herrgott, yes it is!" he panted, as he put his hands on her hips and 
drew her to him. Hilde Grasser closed her eyes and shuddered violently as 
his thin mouth came down hard on hers and he lasciviously pressed his 
swelling crotch against her loins in that gloatingly possessive embrace.

When he released her, his face was flushed and his eyes glistening with 
lubricity. "I'll come to you before midnight, Hilde," he muttered into her 
ear, using her first name in this delicious familiarity which she had 
surrendered to him. "And you have my oath that Magdelena will be safe."

He turned and left her then, and Hilde Grasser stood a long moment in the
kitchen, trying to distract herself by washing the dishes of the evening 
meal, while down her cheeks there flowed the unshed tears she had held back
so long at the news of her husband's death on the field of honor....

Tomboyish Marlene Drucker had gone over to the house of Heinz Reimer, 
knowing that his aging mother was taking her usual long afternoon nap. 
Heinz was back from his duties of delivering the district mail, and Marlene
knew that he would be napping, too, near the porch at the back of the house
where Reimer had planted such a lovely garden of hollyhocks, nasturtiums 
and lillies of the valley.

Black-haired slim Marlene was more than alarmed over what had happened 
since that fat Kommandant and the bald Major had taken quarters with them. 
This morning, she had seen how Agatha Blomberg was behaving in the kitchen,
sniffling, her eyes very red, and wincing when she moved. And she had 
backed Agatha into a corner and fiercely demanded to know what was the 
matter, and then Agatha had burst out crying. She had sworn Marlene to 
secrecy and finally told her, "Liebchen, may you never have to have such 
shame and suffering as I have had to go through. Thank heavens at least the
Herr Kommandant contents himself with me and not with the dear mistress or 
you or your lovely sister Linda!"

Though Marlene was, to be sure, a virgin, she was more sophisticated than
even her parents or Linda suspected. "What are you trying to tell me, 
Agatha? Now if you don't want me to go tell Daddy how you're behaving, 
you'll tell me exactly what happened," she threatened.

Agatha Blomberg's sobs redoubled, until finally she was able to confess 
that she had been compelled to satisfy the brutal lust of Oberst Ernst von 
Bruckmann, and that pert coppery-haired Kathchen had had to service the 
Major.

Marlene turned pale and uttered a gasp of horror. "Those filthy swine!" 
she hissed. "And they're Germans, like all of us, yet they treat us this 
way. It's unheard of, it's infamous! I'm going to do something, you'll see!
Beat you, did he, that fat pig!"

"Oh, my darling little mistress, you mustn't think about it or talk about
it! I don't know what they'd do if they knew I'd told you! Please swear you
won't tell a soul! Besides, I'm so ashamed, I want to die when I think of 
how-ach, Gott, if only I had a husband, I'd be in bed with him and maybe 
then they wouldn't want me!" Agatha Blomberg blubbered.

And so lovely spirited young Marlene Drucker had made a fierce resolve. 
She was going to enlist Heinz Reimer's help. Being a postman, he must know 
how to get dispatches through to Berlin swiftly. She was going to write a 
litter to the High Command and expose the shameless and brutal treatment 
which the Kommandant of this Uhlan regiment was inflicting against innocent
people.

She had dressed herself as a boy, in order to escape notice by the German
soldiers posted at street corners, on order of the Oberst after the murder 
of one of his soldiers by the unfortunate Bertha Morin.

She had taken a pair of scissors, cut off her black hair until it was as 
closely cropped as that of a boy, and then put on the gardener's blouse and
a pair of his old trousers which she had found out in the shed in the 
garden. Her drawers and camisole were the only articles of feminine 
clothing which garbed her slim, nubile loveliness.

Shen she arrived at the Reimer house, having gone through several alleys 
to reach there without being noticed by any of the soldiery, she quickly 
climbed the wall like a boy, hurried up to the porch, found the back door 
unlocked and crept into the little room just off the porch where she knew 
bespectacled, gentle-faced, mild-mannered Heinz was napping.

She uttered a gasp and her cheeks turned a brilliant red. He was asleep, 
well enough, but because of the heat of the day, he had taken off all his 
clothes and was lying on a cot naked as Adam before the figleaf.

Moreover, his sturdy prick was uptilted in a tremendous state of 
erection, and Marlene Drucker had never before seen a man's organ, though 
her schoolmates had whispered to her how the act between man and maid was 
done. She had a crush on Heinz, but although he had always treated her with
deference and kindness, he had insisted upon behaving to her as if she were
a child and he an old man.

Well, she'd show him!

Driven on by her hatred of the occupying forces in Colmar and by her 
desperate need for someone to whom she could give her trust and confidence,
lovely black-haired Marlene Drucker improvised. She sank down on her knees,
extended a hand warily towards the fleshy sphere which thrust up from a 
thick dark-blond fleece which covered the scrotum and balls, and at last 
brought herself to touch the bulging meatus. Heinz Reimer groaned softly, 
his lips moving. She leaned forward, perking up her ears to catch what he 
was saying even in his dreams. Her thumb and forefinger made a circle over 
the tip of his cock, and gently rubbed it back and forth.

Again he moaned, and again his lips moved, and this time she could hear: 
"Liebling, that is so good ... my sweet angel, how I've dreamed of you 
doing this to me-"

Her eyes widened, and despite being independent and spirited and 
preferring to be taken for a tomboy by the neighbors rather than a lovely 
young girl, she blushed to her temples and the lobes of her dainty little 
ears on hearing this avowal.

"Heinz! Wake up, darling! Wake up, I say!" she cried. And she pinched the
tip of his prick with thumb and forefinger as she repeated this injunction.

Heinz Reimer opened his eyes, sat up and then uttered a cry of horrified 
surprise, at once clapping his hands over his erect protuberance. "Mein 
Gott, Marlene, what are you doing here?"

"I came over to see you, dearest Heinz! And now I have seen you, haven't 
I?" she archly countered, with a little giggle. Her eyes shifted again to 
where his hands were holding that massive sphere of rigid, darkveined 
flesh. She began to feel an unfamiliar twitching between her long slim 
thighs, and her young titties rose and fell with a new excitement.

"Well, great heavens, you ought to have knocked at the door-I certainly 
wouldn't show myself like this to you-"

"And why not, Heinz dear?" she saucily countered. "I think you're awfully
handsome. And so strong and big! Heinz, listen, I have to tell you 
something."

And then, still blushing, still unable to take her eyes off what he was 
hiding with his trembling hands, she told him what Agatha Blomberg had 
confessed that morning in the kitchen.

"Those wretched dogs!" he gasped, shaking his head incredulously. "Of 
course, I know what atrocities are, dear Marlene. One expects these in war.
But your family are German, as my mother and I are, and it is unthinkable 
that we Germans should be treated so by our own countrymen, just because 
the war is going on!"

"I know that. I want to send a letter. Will you help me, darling?"

"Where?"

"To the High Commandant in Berlin, to tell them what this unspeakable pig
of a Kommandant is doing in our house, that's what!"

"Yes, I'll help you write that letter. But for heaven's sake, turn your 
back and wait until I put on my clothes."

"I don't want to. Don't you know, you silly goose, I'm crazy for you, 
Heinz?"

"Marlene, lieber Himmel," he gasped, "you're only a child and I'm nearly 
thirty-"

"And you're a fool if you say things like that, Heinz Reimer!" she 
angrily retorted, stamping her foot as she rose. "I'm sixteen, going on 
seventeen, and you're only twenty-seven. And besides, you haven't got a 
wife. Don't you like me any?"

"Of course I like you, Marlene! Who wouldn't with your spirit and your 
impertinent, loving ways?" he chuckled. "But this is no time to talk about 
such things. Now will you turn your back like a good girl-or else I shall 
be very angry with you."

"And if I don't turn it, what will you do, Heinz?"

"I-I'll treat you as I would a child, I'll spank you!"

"Good!" Marlene giggled, hands on hips, "I bet you don't dare! That's 
what I bet, if you want to know something, Heinz Reimer!"

With an exasperated ejaculation, he seized her round the waist and flung 
her down across his lap. Then, pinning her waist with his left arm, he 
raised his right hand and gave her a few stinging smacks over the seat of 
her trousers. "You call that a spanking?" Marlene jeered, sticking out her 
tongue at him as she looked back over-her shoulder. "I didn't even feel 
that."

"Is that so, you little dickens?" the exasperated young postman 
exclaimed. "Be careful now, Marlene, don't try my patience too far! If your
parents were to see us like this, me naked and you-"

"And I supposed to get a spanking that I don't even feel!" she impudently
finished. "Why, they'd tell you that this isn't any way to spank a naughty 
girl. Go ahead, take my trousers down, give it to me hard on my 
Hinterbocken! Make me cry, if you're man enough, Heinz Reimer!"

She wriggled herself lasciviously over his lap, and she felt the stiff 
naked blade of his prick throbbing the crotch of her borrowed man's 
trousers. Her blushes deepened, but the turbulent swell of her young 
titties betrayed the wakening of sensual desire, a desire she had perhaps 
had for him much longer than she herself realized but which was made cogent
now by this exciting discovery of his nakedness and of the words he had 
murmured in his sleep. Remembering these, she added tauntingly, "Besides, 
I'll bet you were talking about me in your sleep, when I was feeling your 
great big thing!"

"Marlene Drucker! lieber Gott im Himmel!" he gasped. "Du schamloses Kind,
du! Very well, you have asked for it, remember that!"

With this, he industriously attacked the belt buckle of her trousers, 
unfastened it, then seized the garment at the waistband and yanked it down 
to her kneehollows. Marlene giggled, looking back over her shoulder to 
inspect what he was doing, making no move to free herself as the muslin 
drawers which concealed yet at the same time shaped out the jouncy boyishly
compact rondures of her charming young bottom came into view.

"Now then, we'll see!" he panted, as he adjusted the grip of his left arm
around her waist, raised his right hand and brought it down with a sonorous
smack on the right cheek of her bottom through the drawers.

"I didn't feel that either. My goodness, aren't you any stronger than 
that, a big grownup man like you? I marvel that you can even drag around 
the mail when you have to deliver it-what are you doing, Heinz-now wait a 
minute-I didn't--oh-you beast-you've taken down my drawers-stop it, I'm 
going to tell Vater-oh Heinz-ouch-ooohhh-aahhhrr! It stings, Heinz, please,
I didn't mean it-I didn't, I didn't, I'll be good-ouch-ohhhhh, please stop,
you're hurting me, you're just dreadful-I oughtn't-owwwwouuu!!! Please, not
any more, I'll be a good girl, I promise I will, Heinz, oh darling, why do 
you go on hurting me when I love you so?"

For, himself tormented by the sudden lustful fury that had seized him at 
the sight of her smooth, tawny, beautifully muscled bottomcheeks, Heinz 
Reimer, after tugging down her drawers just below the base of her bottom, 
had begun to spank with all his might, covering her entire posterior with 
crisply noisy blows of his vigorous palm, under which Marlene Drucker's 
naked behind had begun to swerve and squirm, toss and heave, while the 
finely grained tawny skin grew pink and then a flaming red.

At last he stopped, out of breath, staring at her. Her face was still 
turned back over her shoulder, her eyes blinking the tears away, and her 
lips were trembling and her nostrils were dilating and shrinking.

She had never been more desirable. And the perverse and disturbingly 
sensual impact of her boyish costume and her cropped hair completed the 
shattering of his usual shy reserve. He felt his prick bulge and throb with
savage ardor. But those last words of hers had finally dispersed the 
illusion that she was only a child.

"Marlene-Ich liebe dich sehr!" he groaned, as he sat her upright on his 
lap, pulled her to him and kissed her trembling tear wet mouth. At once her
arms locked round him, and she moaned as her tongue flicked between her 
lips to find his and to cajole him. Seated as she was over his naked lap, 
with her drawers pulled down, her naked bottom felt the prodding ache of 
his turgid prick, and after the long kiss had ended, she stared wonderingly
at him, then down at herself. Over the maiden corals of her soft pink 
virgin quim, a sparse black fleece grew, now hiding the lips, and she 
perceived that he was suddenly staring at this her most intimate treasure, 
her jewel of maidenhood.

"Oh Heinz," she whimpered, rubbing her bare bottom frantically over his 
lap, "do me! Show me you don't think I'm just a child anymore-I'll bet you 
were dreaming about me, you wicked man! Love me, Heinz, you don't know how 
lonely and unhappy I am now that the soldiers are here in our house-love 
me, dearest Heinz!"

"Yes! Ach Gott, if you only knew how I've always dreamed of you, Marlene 
my little darling! Yes, it was you I was thinking of when I was asleep 
there-and you wicked girl you, you touched me there where no girl should 
touch a man unless she's going to marry him! I'll marry you, my dearest 
one, and we'll send

that letter together and we'll get those brutes out of your father's 
house! Oh Marlene, you sweet darling!"

In a feverish rapture, Heinz Reimer shifted her off his lap and laid her 
back on the cot, then stood, his manhood bobbing between his sturdy thighs,
as he husked her of the trousers and then the drawers.

Then he sank down over her, while the ingenuous and yet burningly eager 
girl held up her arms to him.

She gasped when she felt the tip of his weapon prod against the soft pink
lips of her vulva, pry them open and march forward to the barrier which 
halted his assault. He hesitated, his face twisted with half-lust, 
half-contrition for discovering that she was virgin to man. "I don't want 
to hurt you, Liebchen," he murmured thickly.

"I want you to, oh please, go ahead and do it to me, oh Heinz, I'll never
speak to you again if you don't!"

she fiercely hissed back. And her arms dragged him down to her, as with a
groan of yearning, he obeyed her command. With a vigorous thrust of his 
weapon, he burst through the hymeneal seal and bladed her to the very hilt.
Marlene Drucker uttered a piercing cry, but it was one of wonder rather 
more than of pain, for now she knew that she had crossed the threshold and 
was no longer a child but a woman.

"Oh kiss me, hurry, Heinz lover," she panted, "kiss me and take away the 
pain and then love me good!"

And so, amid the terror and the fear and the oppressive anxiety which had
gripped the city of Colmar during this scorching summer, sixteen-year-old 
Marlene Drucker passionately surrendered herself to her

"crush," and in so doing set into motion the inexorable forces of doom 
and degradation not only for herself but for the others in her household 
and for still other victims to be drawn by lot as reprisal against the 
rebellious citizenry of this major city of Alsace-Lorraine.

CHAPTER NINE

Marlene Drucker's hoydenish act of defiance against the invading Junker 
regiment was to have far-reaching consequences, as well as immediately 
disastrous ones. Blissfully content with having made the mild mannered 
young postman Heinz Reimer demonstrate his love for her and proving to him 
in return that she was already a woman at sixteen, the delectable 
black-haired tomboyish younger daughter of the Mayor of Colmar donned her 
blouse and trousers and made her way back home via the same alleyways 
whence she had come to him.

But unhappily for her, two tipsy sergeants spied her as she darted across
a street about half a mile from the Drucker house, and one of them, 
believing the slim mannishly clad figure to be that of a saboteur or even a
franc-tirailleur (guerrilla sniper), leveled his rifle and fired at the 
teenaged brunette. His companion bawled, "Stop, in the name of the German 
Army! Stop, or well kill you!"

The bullet had missed Linda by several feet and she had heard its deadly 
shine; terrifed, not wanting to be caught, she broke into a run down the 
cobblestoned alley, with the man who had called after her in hot pursuit. 
She would easily have escaped him had she not tripped on the broken branch 
of a tree which, in her mad flight, she failed to see. She lay stunned, her
cheek bleeding from a cut, while the two men lumbered after her and dragged
her to her feet.

"So these damned French send even boys against us," Sergeant Thomas 
Mannbreiter growled. He was short and stocky, with a huge walrus mustache, 
a man of thirty-eight with an estranged wife and three children, and most 
of his pay was sent to his family by order of the civil court just before 
his enlistment two years ago. He had no use for women, believing them all 
to be whores and schemers, like his own wife.

The man who had fired the rifle, Sergeant Peter Jung, had joined the army
to escape a paternity suit brought against him by the pretty, 
scatterbrained maid in the house of Graf in Munich, where he had been a 
gardener and woodcutter. He was twenty-eight, tall and lanky, with a 
mentality not much more than that of a twelve-year-old boy, and he had only
one real interest in life: cozening a willing wench into spreading her legs
for him on a bed or even behind a hedge if a bed wasn't handy.

"How can you tell it's a boy, Mannbreiter," he sniggered, his voice thick
with intoxication, "not till you make a search, hein? Hey, look now, what's
sticking out of this kid's blouse doesn't belong to a boy. Let's find out, 
huh?"

So saying, as the two men held the half-fainting Marlene Drucker between 
them, her head lolling, and her cheek bleeding, Sergeant Jung swiftly 
unbuttoned the blouse and discovered the camisole, which he rudely ripped 
down the middle to expose the lovely tawny-sheened pert titties of the 
sixteen-year-old brunette daughter of the Burgomeister. "Gott sei dank!" he
breathed, licking his lips. "It's a girl, this one!

But what the devil was she doing running through the alley like that and 
not stopping when you shot at her? And it's a damned good thing you didn't 
hit her, you drunken lout, or you'd have spoiled a sweet little piece of 
kootzele!"

"Ja, that's right, my friend," Sergeant Thomas Mannbreiter owlishly 
nodded. Then his eyes narrowed and his forehead furrowed as he tried to 
summon enough sobriety to decide what to do about the fugitive. "Think we 
ought to take her to headquarters for the Herr Oberst to talk to?"

"Der Teufel with the Herr Oberst," Sergeant Jung growled and spat onto 
the cobblestones of the alley.

"He's just had martial law declared, or don't you know what's going on in
this war, Mannbreiter? Why, he's got all the cunt he wants, and he's living
in the Mayor's house, I've heard tell. They've got some pretty maids there,
you can bet your last Schilling on that. Naw, we won't waste the Herr 
Oberst's time with this little one. We'll just have her to ourselves. Let's
drag her into this garden. They've had a fire in this house and it's 
boarded up. Maybe down in the basement we'll find a little room to amuse 
ourselves with this one, hein?"

Marlene Drucker slowly came back to consciousness, blinking her eyes and 
groaning as she felt herself being dragged, digging fingers against her 
armpits and upper arms, through the garden of the old abandoned house. It 
had belonged to Jakob Thrumann, a melancholy old watchmaker who, when he 
had seen his wife die of consumption in a hospital bed, had gone back home,
set fire to the house and then shot himself because he couldn't bear to 
live without her.

"What-what's happened to me? Oh, my head-it hurts-who are you-" Marlene 
Drucker faltered.

"She's alive, the little one is!" Sergeant Jung chuckled to his 
companion. "See? Aren't you glad you didn't hit her with that bullet? If 
the Herr Oberst found out you're wasting bullets, Mannbreiter, he'd break 
you down to private." Then, leering at the frightened and still dazed young
girl, he muttered, "Why, honey, don't be scared, you had a bad fall and 
we're taking you somewhere where you can he down and rest and get your 
strength back."

"I-I'm all right-please let me go back home-"

"Not so fast, honey. First of all, you know there's martial law and a 
curfew in this town. What's a pretty girl like you doing running through an
alley and not stopping when the good Sergeant Mannbreiter and I call to 
you?"

"I-I wanted to get home quickly-"

"Ah-ha! I'll bet she was sneaking over to see some boyfriend," Sergeant 
Jung winked lewdly at his walrus-mustached companion. "Don't you fret, 
honey, we'll do better for you than your boyfriend, especially if he's a 
Frenchman."

"But he's not-he-he-" and then Marlene Drucker, realizing that she might 
incriminate the young postman with whom she was so wildly infatuated and to
whom she had just given the flower of her maidenhead, fell silent. But this
only served to augment the suspicion of the two tipsy Uhlan noncommissioned
officers.

"Maybe she's a spy, Jung," Sergeant Mannbreiter growled.

"Whatever she is, we're going to find out. Ah, this damned door sticks-a 
good kick of my boot-there we have it. Now let's go inside and see what's 
left after this fire. Gott, does it stink in here from smoke!"

They had entered the cellar of the old abandoned house, and sergeant 
Mannbreiter now slyly closed the door behind them, while Sergeant Jung 
lifted Marlene up into his arms and held her tightly, rubbing his cheek 
against her naked titties, while she writhed and protested, "Please 
don't-let me go-I can get home all right by myself, thank you! Oh please, 
why have you brought me here?"

"Hey, Sarge," Peter Jung bawled out to his crony, "I just kicked 
something here, feels like an old mattress. Damn, I wish we had some light,
so we could see what we were doing! No you don't, honey!"

as Marlene tried frantically to twist out of his grasp.

Sergeant Thomas Mannbreiter knelt down and groped with his hand, then 
chuckled thickly: "Jawohl, it's a mattress, all right. Just the thing for 
this little kitten! Get her down there on her back, Peter, and we'll make 
her forget all about her boyfriend!"

Marlene shrieked as the lanky sergeant flung her down on her back on the 
dirty old mattress in that darkened cellar, trying to strike out at him, to
kick. But his crony now joined him, and swiftly gripped Marlene's slim 
ankles, tugging off her shoes, and pinned her, while Jung ripped off the 
blouse and then the rest of the camisole, making her naked to the waist.

"The little spitfire, she's trying to scratch and tear me to pieces," he 
complained, as Marlene, with her fists and nails, frenziedly fought off her
would-be ravishers. "I like a little piece of kootzele with spirit, don't 
you, Thomas?" Now he managed to grasp her wrists in his left hand, and 
fumbled with the buttons at the fly of his breeches, liberating his swollen
prick. "Get those damn trousers off her so I can fuck her good!" he 
growled.

"No! Hilfe mir, Gott! Mutterlein, hilfe! No, please don't-don't take them
off-oh please-ahhhrrrr!!"

Marlene shrieked as the other man, sitting on her shins, fumbled for the 
belt of her borrowed trousers,

unbuckled it, then unfastened the buttons and, seizing the waistband of 
the trousers, jerked them down from her slim squirming hips.

He tugged them down to her knees, and then ripped off her drawers, moving
down along the edge of the mattress to seize her ankles. "Now I've got her 
for you, boy," he panted, "just don't take all day because I've earned a 
good piece of that sweet little kootzele myself!"

Peter Jung had no time for words. Stretching himself out over the slim 
naked black-haired teenager, his left hand still retaining hold of her 
jerking wrists, he passed his right hand under her boyishly compact bare 
bottomcheeks, as he shoved his prickhead towards the soft furry nest of her
cunthole. Marlene shrieked in vain, twisting and arching, but she was 
completely helpless. And she shrieked again as the tip of his cock inserted
itself between her already chafed love-lips, which had just yielded their 
chastity for the first time to the young postman.

"Shut her mouth, Thomas," Jung panted, "somebody will hear, and then 
we'll have to share this bitch with them!"

Sergeant Thomas Mannbreiter moved on all fours to the head of the 
mattress, clapped a dirty palm over Marlene's gaping mouth to stifle her 
outcries, and with his other hand grabbed one of her slim wrists.

Now she was completely at their mercy. And the lanky sergeant now 
embedded to the balls inside her quaking young cunthole began to fuck her 
brutally and rapidly, putting into this act of rape all the contempt he 
felt for the female and for her easy virtue.

When he had finished with the sobbing, hysterical young brunette, he 
rolled off her, and Sergeant Thomas Mannbreiter, who had already opened his
fly to free his swollen organ, replaced him. Marlene was weeping bitterly, 
her face averted, blood caked on her bruised and cut cheek, dazed and 
shocked by this ruthless assault. And Sergeant Mannbreiter, hating women as
he did even more than his companion, went at her like a bull, chafing her 
already sensitized vaginal tissues and making her cry out and jerk fitfully
under his stocky body with each vehement lunge to the balls inside her 
churning quim.

But at last he gushed his essence into her sheath and staggered to his 
feet, Marlene Drucker lay sprawled, whimpering hysterically.

"Now then, you little bitch, tell us your name and where you live, or 
it'll go badly for you," Sergeant Jung threatened.

"I won't-let me alone-I want to go home-"Marlene whimpered.

"You know," Sergeant Mannbreiter jocularly preferred, "I got three brats 
of my own at home, and what they need when they're out of line is a good 
thrashing. This little bitch ought to get one for all the trouble she's 
caused us, hein, Peter?"

"Sure she ought to. You want to do it, Sergeant?"

"Ja, wirklich! You hold her over on her face and sit on her back, and 
I'll give her bare Arsch something she won't forget in a hurry," the 
stocky, walrus-moustached soldier sniggered.

Marlene tried to rise to her feet, but the younger ravisher easily foiled
her attempt at escape and rolled her over onto her belly, then seated 
himself astride her shoulders, reaching out to pinch each of her boyishly 
compact satiny bottomcheeks. "She's got an Arsch like a boy's," he 
complained, "but give it to her anyhow!"

Kneeling beside the now frantically kicking almost naked girl, Sergeant 
Thomas Mannbreiter put his left palm against the small of Marlene's satiny 
back, raised his right hand and brought it down with an emphatic smack. 
Marlene squealed and sobbed, trying to unhorse the man who sat upon her, 
but to no avail. Warming to this salacious game and roused to new sexual 
fury by her cries and tears and sobs, Sergeant Mannbreiter began to spank 
her brutally, his hand rising high and falling like a plummet with full 
force to flatten each of the jouncy globes in turn.

And when his hand was aching from this pleasant occupation, he panted, 
"Ja, she sure has got an Arsch like a boy's, Peter! And she owes me 
something for giving her a good spanking and teaching her not to sneak 
around honest soldiers like us. So I'm going to put my Schwanz into her 
just as if I would if she was a boy. Better hold onto her hips so she won't
wriggle loose from my harpoon, ha ha ha!"

And with a roar of lubricious laughter, Sergeant Thomas Mannbreiter 
yawned apart Marlene Drucker's resilient firm bottomglobes, and thrust his 
already resurgent cock against the dainty little furtive orifice of her 
virgin asshole, f

"No! Oh my God, don't do that to me-eeeyeowww! It hurts-oh take it out, 
hilfe, ' ohh, Mutterlein, help me, help me, please-ahrrrraiii!!!"

Grunting with lust, maddened by the spasmodic jerkings of the young 
girl's lithe hips which his friend's fingers dug into to render her 
struggles all the more futile, Sergeant Thomas Mannbreiter slowly and 
mercilessly gouged his prick to the very depths inside her rectal sheath, 
and then began to sodomize her as brutally as he had fucked her.

When he had finished, his companion was about to emulate him, when 
suddenly both soldiers heard a whistle down the alley. "Herr Gott, that's 
Leutnant Linzer looking for us," Sergeant Mannbreiter swore.

"Let's get out of here and leave this little bitch before they find her 
with us. I don't think she's a spy, Jung."

And with a roar of bawdy laughter, raising his hand and giving her 
swollen naked behind a final furious swat which drew a last agonized cry 
from the unfortunate brunette teenager, he rose to his feet, readjusted his
breeches, and then with his companion stumbled out of the cellar.

CHAPTER TEN

It was an hour before the bruised and ravaged young brunette could regain 
her strength and slowly get to her feet, still whimpering with the pain of 
her multiple violations by the two brutal sergeants. She managed to drag 
back on the trousers and buckle them into place, and to button the tattered
blouse, and then, after putting her shoes back on, dazedly groped towards 
the door of the cellar and emerged into the garden. Dusk was falling and 
the terror of the curfew which the cruel Kommandant had imposed was a new 
dread for the feverish young girl. She reached the gate and let herself 
out, looking down the alley on each side to make sure that no one would see
her. This time, the German patrols were not in view, and she continued that
tragically interrupted journey back to her father's house.

Oberst Ernst von Bruckmann was seated at the dinner table, and beside him
was his crony Major Ludwig von Lorchbar. The Mayor of Colmar, his handsome 
wife Klara and lovely auburn-haired Linda were seated opposite the two 
high-ranking Junker officers, silent and anxious, for there had been no 
word of Marlene. Lenchen, the twenty-year-old maid whose melon-like bosom 
both officers had already openly admired, had been sent by Agatha Blomberg 
to search for Marlene at several of the nearby houses, for the pretty 
brunette had many friends in the neighborhood. But thus far there was no 
report.

Ernst von Bruckmann drained his glass of Moselle,, and impatiently 
beckoned to Kathchen to fill his glass again. The saucy-featured, coppery 
-haired young maid shuddered as she approached with the bottle of white 
Rhine wine, for she had ample reason to dread both lecherous men who had 
already so brutally used her. The baldheaded major slyly reached behind her
and pinched her bottom just as she was in the act of refilling his glass, 
and she squealed and very nearly dropped the bottle.

"That was very clumsy, Kathchen," the major sadistically reproved. Herr 
Burgomeister, I must say, your servants are very badly trained. It's a good
thing that we German officers are here to make them improve their standards
of service."

Georg Drucker inclined his head but did not answer. His heart was too 
full of grief and futile rage, grief at the knowledge that his family had 
already begun to be corrupted by the presence of the Junkers, rage that he 
dared not show the least resistance or revolt, for the people of the city 
whose official head he was might otherwise suffer terrible atrocities as 
innocent hostages.

"Where is that black-haired girl with the olive skin, that Margarete?" 
Ernst von Bruckmann drained his glass again and set it down with a thud, as
he eyed the trembling young coppery-haired maid who moved over to him and 
filled his glass for the third time.

"She-she has the day off, Herr Oberst," the young girl quavered. "She's 
over visiting her aunt on the north side of town."

"Hmmm. Well, we'll see about that. She'd better not be on the streets 
when the curfew sounds, or she might get herself shot-and what a waste of 
nice sweet kootzele that would be, eh, von Lorchbar?"

The bald major chuckled and nodded as his superior officer gave him a 
nudge in the ribs with his elbow.

"Indeed it would be. But, Herr Drucker, where is your younger daughter, 
Marlene?"

"I don't know, Herr Major, she hasn't come home yet. I understand she 
went to visit a friend. Perhaps she decided to stay there, in view of the 
curfew."

"Well, no matter. Your other daughter is certainly delicious enough," 
Emst von Bruckmann toasted as he lifted his glass and stared lustfully at 
the beautiful hazel-eyed auburn-haired beauty. She shivered and lowered her
eyes, and her cheeks reddened with a blush of shame at being aware of the 
lustful attention of this odious Junker....

Marlene Drucker at last reached her own garden, let herself in, and then 
sank down on her knees, exhausted. Lenchen, who had been keeping a close 
lookout from the porch, saw the kneeling figure and uttered a stifled cry 
of alarm. Then she hurried out to the black-haired girl and, recognizing 
her young mistress, gasped, "Heiliger Gott, Fraulein Marlene, where have 
you been? The master has been so worried, as so has your dear Mutterlein!"

"Oh no, Lenchen, they mustn't see me-oh please, have Agatha out and help 
me. I want to go to my room and lie down. I hurt so."

"Lieber Gott, you poor child!" Lenchen gasped, her eyes filling with 
compassionate tears as she saw the ugly bruise and the dried blood caked on
Marlene's cheek. "What happened? Who hurt you like that?"

"It was the-the soldiers," Marlene whispered. "Oh please, Lenchen, don't 
tell Mutter or Vater! Agatha will know what to do. Oh I hurt so, please 
help me!"

The lovely big-bosomed young maid put her arm around Marlene's waist and 
had her young mistress circle her own plump and deliciously dimpled 
shoulders with one arm as she helped the unfortunate victim of Junker lust 
to the porch. Then, making Marlene lie down on the swing, she hurried to 
the kitchen in search of the buxom housekeeper, who soon joined her with 
smelling salts and a wet cloth to sponge the blood away from poor Marlene's
cheek. And it was then that Marlene told the two aghast women what had been
done to her-though she kept silent over her visit to Heinz Reimer.

The two managed to help her to her room and put her to bed, and then went
back to their duties in the kitchen.

Ernst von Bruckmann continued to stare greedily at Linda throughout the 
dinner, as he helped himself to second and third portions of the 
Wienerschnitzel and the rich bread-pudding dessert. Having himself consumed
nearly an entire bottle of Moselle, as well as brandy with his coffee, he 
began to feel the urges of his sadistic desires. But this time, he told 
himself, he. had enough of that fat sow of a housekeeper and that snotty 
little red-haired bitch of a Kathchen. What he would really like, if the 
truth be known, was to take that Linda by that thick braid of auburn hair 
at the back of her neck and drag her into bed with him, give her a good 
Schlagen on her bare Arsch, and make her suck his Schwanz before he put it 
into her tender little kootzele. Verdammte, at nineteen, she couldn't still
be a virgin; and if she was, it was high time she got rid of that 
obstruction and began her service to mankind!

And then suddenly he recalled his conversation with Heinrich von Luber 
and the defiant and seditious remarks made by Hilde Grasser. He had given 
that creature an ultimatum, hadn't he? And this was the second night, and 
she still hadn't sent any word that she was going to come to his bedroom 
and apologize humbly for her treason! He struck the table so heavy a blow 
with his fist that the plates and silverware clattered, and the Drucker 
family looked up with scared glances and stifled gasps. "Major von 
Lorchbar," he said, his voice thickening from the good food and wine as 
well as his mounting rut, "if we don't have a visitor this evening, one who
is overdue, you and I will have a little tribunal in the morning and have a
fine lady stripped down bare before the town hall and given a good birching
by my own orderly, that expert former schoolmaster Hafflemeier. I swear, 
the man is a genius when it comes to thrashing the Arsch of a naughty 
female, and he hasn't had too much opportunity so far in this short war 
we're having with the verdammte French!"

"That would be a rare treat, indeed," Major von Lorchbar chuckled and 
gave his friend and superior officer back a nudge in the ribs.

"But just in case the bitch decides not to come tonight, we ought really 
to have ourselves a woman for the night. Let's see now, how about that 
Lenchen, the one with the big tits? Or would you rather have that nice Elsa
with hair the color of honey and those perky titties and nice long legs 
that can wrap around you, von Lorchbar?"

"Why not have them both and try them out, so we can exchange them and 
make notes about the kind of service they give us here?" the equally tipsy 
major proposed.

"Das ist eine kapitale Idee, wirklich!" Ernst von Bruckmann again 
hammered his fist on the table with a roar of salacious laughter. "Herr 
Drucker, with or without your permission, we're going to have Lenchen and 
Elsa upstairs with us tonight. You'll give the necessary orders. And of 
course, if the dear girls are indisposed to start service as early as 
breakfast tomorrow, I'm sure you'll forgive them. They'll be rather tired 
out, nicht wahr, Ludwig?"

Again Georg Drucker bowed his head and made an imperceptible nod. His 
lips were compressed and he was deathly pale. His wife dabbed at her tear 
filled eyes with the corner of her napkin, and only Linda dared to send a 
contemptuous look at the two officers, who paid her not the slightest heed,
occupied as they were in finishing off the brandy and then lighting strong 
Upmann cigars....

Georg Drucker stared agonizedly at his handsome brown-haired wife Klara 
as the two spoke in hushed whispers in the room which they had been forced 
to take after giving up their own bedroom to the Junker invaders. "How much
longer will this go on, Klara?" he muttered, his eyes haggard with despair.

"Now those swine have made Lenchen and Elsa go to their rooms tonight, 
and both those girls, I am sure, were chaste maidens who looked to us, as 
did their parents, to be helped to find a good husband

and dowry so that they might become good wives and mothers and serve our 
country best. Now they will be polluted and even beaten by those filthy 
sadists."

"But that's not the worst, my darling," Klara Drucker groaned as two 
great tears welled into her dilated eyes. "Do you know what has happened to
our little Marlene?"

"Don't tell me those unspeakable brutes have dared to lay a hand on my 
own daughter!" the Mayor of Colmar exclaimed hoarsely.

Klara Drucker shook her head: "No, it's not that, fortunately, though 
I've seen the way those two beasts looked at Linda tonight and have already
looked at poor little Marlene. She went to visit a friend, it appears, and 
they stopped her in an alley on her way back home-two soldiers. She won't 
tell us any more. In fact, I learned it only from poor Agatha, who as you 
know herself has been the victim of those savages! I tell you, Georg, it is
as if the Huns were unleashed in the world again for the days of Attila!

And they dare to speak of Deutschland and the glory of Vaterland!"

"The soldiers h-hurt my little girl?" he stared at his wife, trembling 
with a premonition of disaster.

She nodded, as the tears broke and rivuleted down her cheeks. "They 
forced her and then they beat her.

God alone knows what else they did to my poor child. As soon as Agatha 
told me and I wormed the rest out from her and supplied in my own mother's 
mind what she could not or dared not tell me, I sent for old Doctor 
Edelheim. He's just left her, and he says that rest and care and love-"

"All of which she had here long before those Junkers came! If only we 
could get a message to Berlin, to let the High Command know what the Oberst
and his men are doing here to innocent people. Certainly Colmar has no 
military value in this needless war. Already the French troops have 
retreated after the defeat at Sedan, and I'm sure they'll sign a truce 
before much longer. Though you can bet on it, Klara, that sly fox of a 
Bismark will stretch out the war as long as he can to get the best possible
terms and emasculate the French. Then, I fear, long after peace has come 
back to these two countries,, or province of Alsace-Lorraine will be torn 
by internecine feuds, of brother against brother, of French against German,
where formerly all of us lived in peace and friendship. What can we do, 
Klara?"

"Pray, my husband! Pray to Him who alone can dispense justice and who 
does not take sides in any war but only mourns the stupidity of mankind," 
Klara Drucker sighed....

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Oberst and his second in command, Major Ludwig von Lorchbar, had 
enjoyed a memorable night of lust, and that was why the ordeal of Hilde 
Grasser had been postponed. Both of them had ordered the 
twenty-one-year-old honey-haired maid Elsa and the twenty-year-old 
full-bosomed Lenchen to come to the room of the Kommandant, where both men 
awaited them.

The trembling Lenchen and the sobbing pear-breasted, long-legged Elsa 
were first obliged to undress their unwanted suitors down to breeches and 
boots, and then, at von Bruckmann's ribald suggestion,

"take the oath of fealty as a good German girl always should, on the 
Schwanz of her lord and master."

Major von Lorchbar pretended that Elsa's kiss of homage did not show 
sufficient respect for his priapic prowess, and forthwith condemned her to 
a flogging. "It will heat her up for the night," he explained to the 
chuckling Oberst. Scarlet with shame and weeping pitifully, the lovely 
honey-haired young woman was obliged to strip naked except for her drawers,
stockings and garters and camisole, then go kneel down before the armchair 
in which the bald major sprawled. She had then to ask him for a good 
thrashing, and upon his immediate granting of her faltered-out request, 
take off her drawers. Then, as he lifted himself from the seat of the 
chair, the unfortunate young woman was obliged to crawl forward and lay her
upper body along the seat of the chair, after which he promptly sat down on
her shoulders, suffocating her with his weight. Warning her to keep her 
naked bottom well up, he began to smack her pinksheened, broadly oval 
bottomglobes with the flat of his hand, but Elsa did not find this 
relatively simple chastisement in the least benign, judging from her 
frantic wrigglings the sounds of her stifled cries and pleas, and the 
furious dark red hue which was emblazoned on her naked bottomcheeks after 
about fifty of such vigorous smacks.

Released from this humiliating and painful posture, she then had to thank
Major von Lorchbar for the spanking, kiss his hand, and then beg him to 
forgive her by doing her the honor of taking her maidenhead. He made her 
sit down with her back to him, and forced her under threats of a good 
whipping with his riding crop, to pry open the twitching pink lips of her 
virgin cunt with the fingers of one hand while with the other she 
introduced his rigid ramrod into her virgin cleft. As she was doing this, 
he ripped off her camisole and amused himself by squeezing and pinching her
panting pear-shaped titties, and then ordered her to ride him up and down. 
Poor Lenchen had to watch all this, kneeling beside Ernst von Bruckmann, 
who sprawled on another armchair and roared with salacious laughter at the 
awkward antics of the unfortunate honey-haired girl in thus performing her 
own sacrificial coitus.

Her companion's ordeal had so terrifying an effect upon the ripe-tittied 
younger Lenchen that she made no protest whatsoever when the Oberst decided
to put off the pilfering of her maidenhead by taking

first the virginity of her dainty anal rosette. But even her docility did
not save her a dose of the Oberst's riding crop as a "preparation" for his 
brutish rut. And after he had plunged his organ into her tight rectal 
sheath and vented his gismic outpouring into her entrails, he made the 
agonized and weeping Lenchen, who was crouching on all fours on the bed, 
show her subservience by Frenching Major von Lorchbar's diminished organ to
bring the latter to sexual adequacy for a further bout with the unfortunate
Elsa.

Thus the night was spent deliciously by the two Junker officers as a kind
of foretaste of their intended pleasures the next day with Hilde Grasser. 
And before they let Elsa and Lenchen leave the bedchamber, the Oberst and 
the Major subjected the unfortunate young women to a prying and obscene 
interrogation concerning the sexual habits of the wife and two daughters of
their employer. Naturally, neither Elsa nor Lenchen could give any specific
information on such intimate details, but under the persuasion of the 
riding crop, Elsa vouchsafed the information that young Marlene was sweet 
on the young postman Heinz Reimer, while Linda was keeping herself for her 
fiance and steadfastly refused to accept the attentions of any other 
suitor. As for Klara Drucker, both girls tearfully insisted under the lash 
that their mistress was, like Caesar's wife, beyong reproach and that she 
had never-or at least so long as they had been employed in the 
household-been unfaithful to the Mayor of Colmar.

When the weeping, tortured maids had at last been permitted to dress and 
stumble out of the bedchamber back to their own rooms, the two Junkers 
winked at each other and Ernst von Bruckmann declared, "I'll wager, von 
Lorchbar, that these bitches aren't quite so pure as those trollops make 
out.

Why, if that saucy black-haired young wench of a Marlene is fond of the 
postman, I'm certain she's done some cuddling with him already, which the 
maids don't know about. And that buxom Klara, you can't tell me she hasn't 
wanted a little variety after that pompous old fool of a husband of hers. 
Nor would it surprise me to discover that this red-haired jade Linda has 
already been to bed with her fine soldier of a fiance. What we must do, von
Lorchbar, is find some way for them to break the law so that we can have 
them to ourselves, hein?"

The bald major nodded with a drunken leer. "That's easy, Ernst, old man. 
The whole brood isn't fond of us, we know that already. One of these days, 
they'll make a mistake. Maybe we can even find a concealed gun in the rooms
of this fine house if we look hard enough, nicht wahr?"

*

At noon of the next day, a cordon of half a dozen soldiers banged loudly 
at the door of Hilde Grasser's house, and were admitted by the frightened 
young bucktoothed maid Minnie. One of these soldiers was Corporal Diedrich 
Hafflemeier, orderly to Oberst Ernst von Bruckmann, the former school 
teacher whose penchant for flogging the female pupils in his rural school 
had come to the attention of his commanding officer, who provided frequent 
opportunities for Corporal Hafflemeier's demonstration of his skill.

"We have a warrant for the arrest of your mistress, girl," the stocky 
noncommissioned officer declared.

"She is to come with us at once."

"I-I'll get her, mein Herr-oh, what do they want with her?" Minnie 
stammered.

"That's official business, girl, and none of yours. Go fetch her at once 
if you don't want to get into trouble!" Korporal Hafflemeier arrogantly 
commanded.

A few moments later, the tall black-haired widow appeared in the salon, 
followed by the sobbing Minnie, who was wringing her hands. Hilde Grasser 
was very pale, but she held herself erect and proudly, and her dark brown 
eyes fixed Korporal Hafflemeier with a stately calm. "You wish to see me, 
Korporal?" she asked in a level voice which betrayed no fear.

"Not I, Frau Grasser, but the Herr Oberst. You're to come with us at 
once!" he sneeringly retorted. He stared at her greedily, anticipating the 
moment when he would have the order to strip off that black dress and all 
the rest of her clothes and wield the birch rod against her patrician 
bottom. He liked them tall and supple like this one, because they capered 
and wriggled in the most delightful way. And he thought to himself, I've 
seen your kind before, my fine lady, but I promise you that you'll be 
looking at me with tears in those comtemptuous eyes of yours before very 
much longer!

"I'm ready," Hilde Grasser said simply. Turning to Minnie, she added, 
"Stay with Magdelena, Minnie dear. And no matter what happens to me, don't 
tell her. I don't want her to worry."

"That's enough, now, come along!" Korporal Hafflemeier snapped as he 
gestured to two of the privates, who at once marched forwasd and then 
turned, flanking the black-haired widow on each side.

And thus Hilde Grasser was marched through the street to. the town hall, 
where Ernst von Bruckmann, Major Ludwig von Lorchbar and Hauptman Wilhelm 
Kreiser, a saturnine and ambitious officer in his late thirties with a 
flamboyant reputation as womanizer, drunkard and gambler, were seated in 
tribunal to judge her case.

As she entered the town hall, Hilde Grasser had seen a dozen soldiers 
busy constructing a wooden scaffold in the public square just opposite the 
town hall, and despite herself, she shuddered with a

sickening dread. It was not so much fear for herself that agonized her 
now, as the effect the news of her condemnation and punishment would have 
upon young Magdelena. Her daughter's inexplicable silence and unhappiness 
had troubled her deeply, for she had not yet learned the reason; Magdelena,
cowed by Heinrich von Luber's brutal rape and insinuating threats, had not 
dared to confess to her mother that she was no longer a virgin.

The "trial," if it could be called that, was short and inevitable in its 
outcome. Charged with sedition, Hilde Grasser swayed and closed her eyes as
she stood before the tribunal table and heard Oberst von Bruckmann sternly 
.declare, "Frau Hilde Grasser, this court has found you guilty of 
treasonable utterances against the Vaterland. I would be within my rights 
as Kommandant of the regiment now occupying this city if I were to have you
shot. But I prefer a more merciful example to impress upon the minds of the
people of Colmar that we will not tolerate dissension or sedition or 
rebellion in our pursuit of the successful and victorious conclusion of 
this war against the French. It is therefore the judgment of this court, 
all concurring, that you, Frau Hilde Grasser, be brought forth upon a 
public scaffold at three this afternoon, stripped and given the birch on 
the naked Hinterbocken to the blood, and then that you be obliged, in the 
pillory, to apologize to the German Army which I have the honor of 
commanding here and declare that you repent your wicked words. This court 
is dismissed! Korporal Hafflemeier, lodge the prisoner in the council 
chamber and lock her in until it is time to carry out the sentence!"

"I have the right to appeal," the beautiful black-haired Madonna-featured
widow pleaded.

"Naturlich, Frau Grasser," the Oberst laughed, "but to do that, you much 
first get to Berlin with your appeal, and by then I believe the marks of 
the birch will be fading from your haughty Arschl Away with her!"

*

Blond Leutnant Franz von Wollenz returned to the Grasser house after 
maneuvers, shortly after the soldiers had taken his hostess away, and went 
directly to the kitchen where he found Minnie sobbing, her face buried in 
her apron, overwhelmed with grief at the shameful fate which had overtaken 
her kind gentle mistress. "Was machts, Minnie?" he sympathetically asked. 
"Where is Frau Grasser?"

"Oh, mein Herr," Minnie sobbed, wringing her hands in despair, "they've 
taken her away to be judged at the town hall! One of the men who came for 
her said that she was going to be whipped. Oh, can't you save her, Herr 
Leutnant?"

"I do not have the rank to override the orders of the Oberst," he said 
sadly, trying to console the almost hysterical young maid. "But tell me, 
Minnie, where is the young mistress, Magdelena?"

"Oh, she's locked herself in her room and won't see anyone. I brought her
in her breakfast, and she won't tell me anything. I fear something terrible
happened to her, she's so sad and she looks so pale!

And if she knew what they were going to do to her mother, it would kill 
her or drive her out of her mind, I know it would!"

"Look, Minnie, let me take some coffee to her now, and I'll see if I 
can't comfort her. As for her mother, I'm helpless. I don't approve of 
these reprisals against innocent civilians, but what I can't understand is 
how such a fine woman, who gave her husband to the Vaterland, could be 
arrested. What in God's name has she done, then?"

"I heard them say something about her attacking the war, Herr Leutnant," 
Minnie wept.

Franz von Wollenz's handsome face tautened with anger. Now he knew who 
was responsible for Hilde Grasser's arrest and the mock trial which he knew
would follow. His supposed friend and comrade in arms, Heinrich von 
Luber-it could only have been Heinrich who must have repeated what that 
poor distracted woman said about her husband's death to the Oberst. But 
that was damnable! It was a breach of confidence of the worst kind, the 
more so in view of her bereavement.

"Have you seen the Kapitan?" he asked Minnie as she tried to dry her 
tears and began to heat some coffee for the young mistress.

"No, Herr Leutnant, he hasn't come back yet. He went away as you did 
directly after breakfast. Shall I tell him that you're looking for him?"

"No," the blond young officer grimly retorted. I'll find him myself. I've
something to say to him. There, now let me take this coffee to Magdelena. 
And don't cry, Minnie. In all this world, there are many innocent people 
who suffer needlessly. But one day, a just God will avenge them."

He took the coffee cup and saucer on a little tray on which Minnie placed
a plate with bread and cheese, and then went down the hall and up the 
stairs to the room of the golden-haired young Magdelena. He knocked softly,
and after a moment, a muffled voice was heard: "W-Who is it?"

It's I, Franz von Wollenz, Magdelena. Please let me in. I must talk with 
you. Minnie sent up some coffee, it'll be good for you."

After a moment, the bolt of the door was drawn back and Magdelena opened 
it, her eyes swollen with tears, her face very pale, wearing only her shift
and a robe over it, and her slippers.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Fraulein," he courteously said, "but it isn't 
good for you to lock yourself up like this and mope. See, I brought you 
some nice fresh hot coffee and some cheese and buttered bread. You must 
eat. Besides, I want to talk to you. It's most important, or I wouldn't 
have disturbed you at such a time."

"At such a time, Herr?" Magdelena Grasser stammeringly echoed his words, 
her beautiful large blue eyes questioningly fixed on him.

He cursed himself for that inadvertent slip. "I mean, at a time when your
mother is in mourning, as you are, over the loss of your father. Do forgive
me," he hastily amended as he set the tray down on the little table beside 
her bed.

With a sigh, Magdelena seated herself on the edge of the bed, tremblingly
lifted the coffee cup to her lips and took a sip. "Tell me, Magdelena, has 
Kapitan von Luber offended you in any way?" he solicitously asked.

Magdelena Grasser shuddered, closed her eyes and very nearly dropped the 
coffee cup, while a wave of furious red suffused her pale carnation-satiny 
cheeks. After a moment, recovering her self-control, she retorted, dully, 
"It is his nature to offend people, I suppose, people who want to have 
nothing to do with war and who only wish to live in peace. A man like him 
thrives on bloodshed and violence and horror, I think."

"Why do you say that, my dear Magdelene?"

"You-you are his friend, are you not, Leutnant?"

"Yes, we've been together for some time in the same regiment, and IVe 
usually been quartered with him. I know that I am not like him, but he 
comes from a fine family-"

"No, you're not like him," she interrupted. "And because of that, I will 
never tell you why I find him odious. Have you seen my mother this 
morning?"

Franz von Wollenz bit his lower lip and turned away. "Yes, Magdelena," he
answered.

"Is she well? Did she say she wished to see me? I-I haven't been well the
last few days, you know."

"Of course she wants to see you. But she's left the house now," he tried 
to choose his words with care, while a terrible suspicion grew in his mind.

"Out of the house? But it isn't marketing day, you know. Besides, Minnie 
would go-tell me, where is my mother, Leutnant?"

"She-she is at the town hall, Fraulein Magdelena." His voice trembled as 
he averted his face from her.

"Mein Gott! Then he didn't keep his word then it was all for nothing! 
Ach, Gott, I want to die! They've taken her away, haven't they? They're 
going to beat her, aren't they, because of what she said about the war and 
about my father? Tell me, Leutnant, you must tell me!"

"What are you saying, Magdelena? Yes, soldiers took your mother away, but
why do you say it was all for nothing?" he pursued, as a terrible suspicion
grew heavy within him.

"Oh my God, why didn't they take me instead? My poor mother, it will 
crush her spirit forever! It's unjust, inhuman! And I thought that when-oh 
God, what a fool I was to believe him!"

Franz von Wollenz anxiously bent over the sobbing golden-haired girl, an 
arm about her shoulders, and took one of her hands in his as he demanded, 
"Listen, Magdelena, I'm your friend, you know that. I wish you and your 
mother only good fortune and the end of your suffering. Your father died a 
hero, and you must take consolation from that and be true to his memory. He
would not want you to grieve for him endlessly, Fraulein'."

"Oh no! He would despise me, for I behaved like a harlot. I shamed the 
honor of his name, and I did it only to save my mother, I swear to you I 
did!" the distraught young girl hysterically sobbed.

"But what did you do? You must tell me, you must! Don't you trust me, 
don't you believe me to be your friend?"

"Yes-but it's too vile, too shameful! You'd never have any respect for me
again, Leutnant von Wollenz!"

"You are too much like my own little sister Kathe, with the same golden 
hair and the sweet face and the lovely blue eyes, Fraulein Magdelena. And I
know you to be pure as she is in your thoughts and deeds.

How, then, could I not respect you?"

She drew a long shuddering breath and then, her eyes closed, her face 
averted from his, she murmured,

"He-he said that if I would g give myself to him, he would save my mother
from the shame and degradation of a trial. And I believed him, and I-and I 
did what he wanted. And now you tell me they've taken her away to the town 
hall, and they're going to whip her, aren't they, take off her clothes and 
beat her with everyone watching-on my God, why wasn't it me instead?"

"Unglaublichl You mean that my friend Heinrich-he forced himself upon 
you, told you that if you let him have his way with you, he would talk the 
Oberst out of summoning your mother before the military court? Is that it, 
Fraulein Magdelena?"

She nodded, and her sobs burst out uncontrollably as she bowed her 
forehead against his chest and, in her despair, clutching at him with her 
beautiful naked arms.

Franz von Wollenz gently disengaged himself from that trusting embrace 
after a moment, and rose unsteadily, his eyes blazing with fury. "I cannot 
doubt your word, Magdelena," he said at last in a hoarse, unrecognizable 
voice, "and all I can say is that I wish you had come to me and told me of 
his ignoble, contemptible demand upon you! I could then have prevented it 
by challenging him to a. duel of honor.

Now all I can do is make useless amends by killing him as he deserves. 
The Judas! I would to God I could go to the Oberst-but wait, perhaps there 
is still time! If they took her away at noon, there would be a few hours 
between the trial and the carrying out of whatever sentence the Oberst 
pronounced upon her. Try to pray, Fraulein Magdelena, and I will go to see 
what can be done. As for the man who was once my friend, he will not again,
I think, cause you concern!" And with that, he left Magdelena Grasser's 
room and strode down the stairs, his eyes cold and hard and his lips thin 
and compressed....

"Herr Oberst, I most respectfully beg you to postpone the execution of 
this sentence until I have had time to convince you that it is not only 
unjust but also falsely brought. I say falsely, because I am certain that 
it was through the word of an officer that you brought charges against this
unfortunate woman."

"Leutnant von Wollenz," Ernst von Bruckmann leaned back in the hard chair
of the office in the town hall in which he made his headquarters, "you are 
young, you come from an estimable family, and you have conducted yourself 
thus far with valor and distinction.

But, further considering, and will all deference to your very commendable
compassion, I will tell you flatly that my powers as military commander of 
this regiment and of the city of Colmar which is now under my edict of 
martial law, I am sworn to take what measures I believe necessary to the 
safety of my troops and to the reasonable conduct of the citizens where we 
are billeted. The case against Frau Grasser is clear, her words were 
treasonable; and even granting some extenuation because of her husband's 
death, the fact that she is so important a citizen of Colmar and has such 
influence with the townspeople, makes it all the more necessary to proceed 
stringently against her."

"But Kapitan von Luber lied to you and, what was worst of all, betrayed 
the honor of an innocent young girl, Herr KommandantV Franz von Wollenz 
indignantly burst out.

The portly Oberst winked broadly and then leaned forward across the 
table. "Come, now, my boy," he said in a fatherly tone, "I think I 
understand what's happened. You're very young, and I know that you've never
gone to the officers' brothels or been mixed up with any trollop since you 
first wore our regi mental colors. Well, it's understandable. In war time, 
away from home, you find a sympathetic little piece of kootzele, and she's 
nice to you because you're a good-looking boy, no two ways about it. First 
thing you know, you're infatuated with her, and you think she's a saintly 
creature way up on a pedestal.

You know what you need, Franz? A good piece of Arsch, that's what! Now 
why don't you take advantage of this girl's obvious interest in you and get
her to bed as quickly as you can. That'll make you forget all this 
regrettable military expediency, which you must leave to me as senior 
officer and commander."

"You don't understand, Herr Kommandant!" Franz Wollenz passionately 
declared. "Kapitan von Luber offered Fraulein Grasser a chance to save her 
mother from this public ignominy and a brutal beating if she would give 
herself to him. She is a girl of seventeen, Excellenz, a virgin, and she 
trusted that swine who was once my friend!"

"Careful, now, Leutnant!" Emst von Bruckmann growled, adjusting his 
monocle and scowling at the indignant young blond officer who faced him. "I
will not listen to scurrilous attacks upon the integrity and the honor of a
staff officer! You yourself, a Junker, must know our code!"

"A fine code, indeed, which permits treachery and dishonor and rape!" 
Franz von Wollenz cried out, aghast at the cynicism of his commanding 
officer.

"That will be quite enough, Leutnant von Wollenz!" the fat Oberst 
snapped. "You'll apologize to me, and you will return to the house of this 
Frau Grasser. By tomorrow morning, when you report for maneuvers, I trust 
you will have learned to hold your tongue. You are dismissed!"

"I will apologize to you, sir, for any error in my military conduct. But 
that is all. As for the Kapitan, I will take your word about the code I 
intend to challenge him to a duel, with or without your permission."

"That's your right, my boy. But he's a deadly marksman, and one of the 
best duellists with the saber in all of Deutschland. Think it over." The 
Oberst ingratiatingly smiled and went on in a wheedling tone, "A good 
night's sleep-and preferably with that emotional little bitch-will do you a
world of good. You'll think things over differently in the morning, I 
promise you. Now you're dismissed!" He gave a casual salute and then turned
to one side to study a sheaf of military documents. Leutnant Franz von 
Wollenz stared a minute, then with a low groan left the office....

CHAPTER TWELVE

A detachment of cavalry had taken its post all around the public square, 
and the drums were beating as Hilde Grasser, her wrists bound behind her 
back, was led by two sturdy privates who gripped her elbows towards the 
waiting scaffold. It had been hastily constructed, but it was sturdy enough
for the hellish work about to be perpetrated upon it now. At one side was a
cross-like whipping post, with metal rings set into each end of the 
horizontal arm. At the other end of the platform was a heavy wooden 
pillory, with clampholes for the neck and wrists of the victim.

In front of the whipping cross, Korporal Hafflemeier stood, in full 
uniform, while a sniggering and pimply-faced young private scrambled up the
steps, carrying a bucket in which two birch rods were steeping in brine.

"Now look smart, Gottfried," the Korporal warned the youth, "you're going
to be my assistant today, and the Oberst himself will be watching you. Do a
good job, and you might even get a stripe out of this.

And it's a real treat for you, because this piece of kootzele is a fine 
strapping young woman the likes of which you'll probably never have a 
chance to fuck. But you'll see everything she's got this afternoon, my boy.
Just do what I tell you to, and you'll get along fine!"

Franz von Wollenz forced his way through the eager crowds which surged 
around the scaffold, trying his best to get to the condemned woman before 
she was led up the stairs and consigned to the grinning soldiers who waited
to act as executioners.

The drums thundered now as Hilde Grasser was forced up the steps by her 
two guards, and it would seem that she climbed resolutely and without 
faltering, her head still high, her face deathly pale, her lips moving as 
in prayer. Korporal Hafflemeier gestured to his pimply-faced young aide to 
take charge of the victim and to prepare her at the cross, while he now 
unbuttoned the collar of his uniform, the only concession he would make to 
the sweltering sun which beat down upon the public square.

The two privates thrust Hilde Grasser towards the grinning young private 
who was to assist the former schoolteacher, and he at once unbound the 
cords about her wrists, but only so that she might be bound to the crossarm
of the whipping post. He put his left hand to the back of her neck and 
muttered, "Move along there and be quick about it!"

"You needn't touch me, soldier," Hilde Grasser murmured so that only he 
could hear, "I'm quite capable of walking myself without your aid, thank 
you."

"Oh are you, my fine lady? You wait until Diedrich makes his birch rod 
dance on your bare Arsch, you'll sing a different tune! All right, since 
you're so proud, walk over to it and stretch your arms out. Stick your 
wrists through those rings, d'you see them?" he jeered.

Hilde Grasser's eyes closed and her body shivered for a moment as she 
summoned all her courage and nobility of spirit to meet this mortifying and
agonizing ordeal. Then she moved quietly towards the heavy wooden cross, 
faced it and extended her beautiful long arms along the horizontal piece, 
her wrists through the metal rings as bidden.

At this moment, the captain who had been one of the three presiding 
officers at the tribunal which had condemned her, now mounted the scaffold 
and, turning to face the expectant and silent throng, read out the 
sentence. This done, he sententiously concluded: "People of Colmar, profit 
from the example of this loose-tongued woman and take care you do not 
listen to or talk sedition yourselves, lest you find yourselves in her 
place." Then, turning to the grinning young private who stood behind the 
blackgowned widow, he curtly commanded, "Carry out the sentence of the 
court!"

"Now you're for it, Frau Hilde," the young private jeered as he stepped 
forward and swiftly bound each wrist with a cord to the heavy metal rings 
at each end of the crosspiece. Then, glancing over to hismentor, he waited 
for Hafflemeier's signal to proceed, which was given at once. Licking his 
lips with anticipation, the pimply-faced soldier put his hands to the neck 
of the black gown and viciously rent it

down to the waist, then continued to tear at it until it fell in tatters 
to the floor of the scaffold. A collective "Ah!" of lustful anticipation 
rose from the ogling spectators. Next he ripped off her camisole, and then 
the two petticoats, and with a muffled groan of shame, Hilde Grasser found 
herself naked to the waist save for her muslin drawers, black lisle 
stockings held up high on her long lovely legs with elastic garters, and 
her shoes.

"Shame!" a man's voice called out now amid the buzz of excited and 
speculative conversation as the men in the crowd gestured to one another, 
pointing out the tempting charms of the attractive black-haired widow.

Finding herself thus exposed to the jeers and the lubricious gaze of the 
mob, Hilde Grasse pressed herself convulsively against the rough wood of 
the whipping cross. Under the blazing sunlight, the pale ivory skin of her 
slim shoulders and beautifully hollowed sleek back was obscenely 
accentuated, as were the soft tufts of black hair in her distended armpits.
Her poignant oval face, taut and incredibly pale, grimaced now as she felt 
the rough fingers of the pimply-faced private being inserted within the 
waistband was chorused from several hundred throats as Hilde Grasser was 
left tethered to the whipping cross clad in only her black stockings and 
garters and shoes, the highest oval cheeks of her bottom contracting in a 
supreme effort to diminish the most intimate parts of her nudity so rudely 
exhibited. Those who crowded up to the edge of the platform and faced her 
could espy the thick triangular black push of pubic hair which veiled the 
pink lips of her cunt, and they could see the panting swell of her still 
beautifully firm titties marked by dark coral tips which quivered and 
palpitated at the caress of the warm summer sun, as they might from the 
fingers of an adoring lover.

Satisfied with the effect he had achieved, the smirking young assistant 
moved to one side as Korporal Hafflemeier drew one of the birches out of 
the brown-filled bucket, swished it in the air half a dozen times to shake 
out the excessive moisture, and then stationed himself at the victim's 
left. His eyes squinted greedily at the expanse of white flesh delivered 
over to the rod, and he experienced only a mild regret that the bottom of 
his victim was comparatively meager. He much preferred a plump behind to 
work over, with so much more terrain for the twigs to sting and bite and 
tear. But she was to get it to the blood, the bitch, and he'd let her feel 
a few on her legs, those nice long shapely legs of hers to make her caper 
about, as well as on her back and shoulders.

Now again a death-like silence had fallen over the public square as the 
stocky former schoolteacher slowly lifted the rod, measuring the distance, 
the sensitivity of the victim's flesh, and choosing the place for the first
stroke to fall. Then his arm arose abruptly, and a gasp of expectancy was 
heard from the crowd as the rod hovered above the quivering naked woman ...
then flashed down in a wicked arc to bite horizontally over the tops of 
Hilde Grasser's svelte, lithe ivory-sheened naked hips.

The beautiful aristocratic black-haired victim stiffened at that first 
caress of the ignoble birch; her head lifted slightly, her eyes tightly 
closed, and she compressed her mouth to hold back the startled cry of pain 
at that first burning kiss of the rod.

"Shame!" again a man's voice called out, and heads began to crane this 
way and that to learn the identity of that protester. It was Franz von 
Wollenz, who had been prevented from coming towards the steps, so great had
been the multitude around them.

But Korporal Hafflemeier recognized the young officer, and in a muttered,
apologetic tone, called out,

"Look, Leutnant, I'm just doing my duty, like the Oberst expects me to 
do!" Then, as if annoyed at having had to justify his actions, he ground 
his teeth, drew back a step, and launched the bushy rod straight across the
ripest curves of Hilde Grasser's naked bottomovals. The birch smacked 
crisply, and a faint wavering "Aaaah!" was torn from the victim as her long
slim fingers dug into her palms and her torso stiffened as she pressed 
herself convulsively against the cross. It could not hide her as much as 
she longed for, it did not conceal the now agitatedly swelling titties, nor
the lascivious black triangle of cunthair which announced her voluptuous 
womanhood, nor the beautifully smooth satiny inner surfaces of her quaking 
long thighs whose muscles flexed and shuddered from the nervous reaction of
that merciless cut which had left multiple striata on the pale ivory flesh 
of her naked behind.

Now, with hardly a moment's pause, Korporal Hafflemeier applied the rod 
over the base of Hilde Grasser's huddling bottomcheeks.

But on the other side of the platform, Franz von Wollenz had now espied 
the black-haired captain who had professed to be his dear friend, and 
forced his way through the grumbling spectators towards Heinrich von Luber,
just as the fourth stroke cut wickedly over the lower summits of Hilde 
Grasser's naked seat, again driving her against the post and this time with
a dull groan of agony.

Korporal Hafflemeier recalled the many pleasurable moments of his days as
a civilian when, as a schoolteacher, he had the power to condemn a weeping 
and blushing fifteen-year-old peasant's daughter to lift up her skirts and 
petticoats and bend over a stool while he tugged down her drawers and made 
her count aloud the kisses of a rattan cane or the whistling cuts of a 
swishy birch. It excited him to hear a victim cry for mercy, to wriggle her
well-marked bottom this way and that, unconsciously exposing the most 
intimate parts of her being under the duress of pain which he was 
inflicting. So Hilde Grasser's stoicism challenged all his skill, and 
viciously he determined to crush her in her patrician pride and humble her 
as he would have done one of his young pupils. Now he delivered two swift 
strokes of the birch over the tops of her hips, and then another, with 
hardly any pause between the three, across her slim ivory shoulders. Her 
bound wrists jerked at the rings to which they were corded, and for the 
first time her flushed and contorted face turned back over one lovely 
shoulder to stare at the man who was engentlering such torment in her naked
flesh.

"Yes, it's I, Korporal Hafflemeier, my fine lady at your service," he 
muttered in a low voice for her ears alone. "So you're starting to feel it,
are you? There's a lot more, I've hardly even scratched' that fine white 
skin of yours, my beauty!"

Then, with all his strength, he swept the bulky rod-over the base of her 
naked bottom, sending her lunging forward against the upright of the 
whipping cross, jerking at her wrists and lifting her eyes to the serene, 
dazzling blue heaven above as if in supplication to her Maker for strength 
to endure this agonizing torment.

By now Franz von Wollenz had reached the side of Heinrich von Luber. "Are
you satisfied with your bloody work, you dishonorable villain?" he 
whispered hoarsely.

"My boy, what's got into you? I forgot how squeamish you are. You 
oughtn't to have come out here in the hot sun to watch something like 
this."

"Save your little jokes, von Luber. I say you're a liar, a scoundrel, and
a seducer. I've learned what you did to poor Fraulein Magdelena."

"It's really none of your affair, Franz. And keep your voice down. You 
know what the Herr Oberst says, we're here to keep up civilian morale."

"A lot you care for that, you blackguard. I say you're a dirty swine, a 
filthy liar and not fit to wear a Junker uniform, that's what I tell you!"

Heinrich von Luber uttered a snarl of rage as he whirled to confront his 
younger colleague. "Be careful,"

he warned.

"Ha!" Franz von Wollenz drew off his right glove and then slashed it 
across the sadistic captain's suave face.

Heinrich von Luber's eyes blazed with rage: "All right, you've asked for 
it, you young puppy! You'll have your duel. And since I'm the injured 
party, it'll be with sabers."

"When?"

"I've maneuvers to command the next few days, von Wollenz. Duty comes 
first, you know. Let's say next Monday, just before sundown, in the 
exercise field behind the town hall. You may as well make your will and say
your prayers, you young puppy! No one's ever beaten me in a saber duel, and
you're not likely to be the first."

Korporal Hafflemeier was warming to his work. By now, some twenty-five 
strokes had fallen over Hilde Grasser's naked body from the tops of her 
shoulders to where the black lisle hose bended against her long, 
beautifully sculptured ivory thighs. Here and there a drop of blood pearled
where some of the scratchier twigs had crisscrossed in repeated blows, 
especially at the left summit of her bottom and the right side of her 
waist, just above her hips. The longer twigs had swept round to bite 
against her belly, and the last cut-which he had applied just at the moment
when Franz von Wollenz had uttered that final insult to the man who had 
once been his friend-had flicked round to sting one panting naked tittie, 
drawing a strident cry of wordless agony from the tortured, writhing 
victim.

Her face was bathed in tears now, and her eyes were open, her stoicism 
long since fled. The unbearable heat of the day, the ignominy of her 
exposure before all these spectators, and the furious scalding blows of the
birch on her naked flesh had broken down her indomitable courage.

Hafflemeier stared at the birch which had begun to fray. Grabbing another
he snarled, "Now I'll really make you dance and sing, my beauty!"

But Hilde Grasser had fainted, and the gawking private who held her inert
body in his arms stared helplessly at the noncommissioned officer.

It did not reprieve Hilde Grasser from the ordeal of the pillory. Her 
unconscious body was placed in it, her neck and wrists clamped, and she was
left there in the hot sun for the prescribed hour.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Before the duel could take place, a telegraph wire from Berlin was brought 
by old Manfred Durchbaur, the chief telegrapher of Colmar, to the house of 
Mayor Drucker on the very evening when he had returned from the town hall 
after witnessing the public whipping and pillorying of Hilde Grasser.

Oberst Ernst von Bruckmann and his crony Major von Lorchbar, in high good
humor after the exciting spectacle had been looking forward to a night of 
lust with some of the burgomeister's maids, and this time had decided that 
Margarete, the nineteen-year-old oliveskinned virgin who had thus far been 
spared their advances because of her absence from the household, would be 
the piece de resistance.

As they entered the salon of George Drucker's house, a private sprang up 
and saluted them smartly, while an elderly man hesitantly rose with a 
folded sheet of paper in his hand.

"Excellenz, this fellow has a dispatch for you," the private explained. 
"He asked me to show him the way to the Herr Oberst and I knew that you 
would be coming here, so I took the liberty of bringing him."

"That was clever of you, Private," Ernst von Bruckmann grinned. "Here, a 
few Schillings for your beer tonight. Drink my health, and that of my good 
friend the Major."

"Jawohl, Excellenz," the soldier saluted, pocketed the money, grinned and
hastily left the house.

Ernst von Bruckmann took the folded sheet and opened it. Then he let out 
a bellow of rage:

"Teufel und Donnerwetterl It's from General von Noldtke. Some bastard of 
a citizen has taken it into his head to send a telegraph dispatch to the 
High Command complaining about the bahavior of my soldiers here in Colmar. 
Read this for yourself, Ludwig!"

The bald Major took the sheet and stared at it, then he too sswore: 
"Schrecklichl Not only that, but whoever must have blabbed has informed the
general of the execution of that French murderess last week. And then 
mentioning the rape of women by soldiers and the mistreatment of important 
and decent citizens by officers-who the hell was it, Ernst, and how was 
such a dispatch allowed to be sent?"

"It's my own fault, Ludwig. I didn't think of having the telegraph lines 
shut down and all messages censored. After all, we're hundreds of miles 
from the fighting front. But this is treachery! But you just wait, I'll 
find out. I wouldn't be surprised if that bumpkin of a Mayor did it 
himself. But the worst of it is, this old General von Noldtke is coming 
here by Sunday, to make an investigation. Well, Ludwig, you and I

are going to have a little fun before the old fool gets here from Berlin.
Maybe if the mayor's fine daughter Linda gets her Arsch whipped a little, 
hell feel like telling us who got in touch with Berlin!"

*

The auburn-haired daughter of the Mayor of Colmar writhed on her knees, 
as the grinning bald Major von Lorchbar twisted her beautiful bare arms 
behind her back and forced her to remain in that servile pose before the 
cruel Kommandant. "Now then, you stubborn bitch, answer my questions! We 
haven't seen your sister Marlene very much the last few days. What's she up
to? Hein? Oh, you won't talk, well, we've ways of making you, you little 
bitch!" The fat sadist chuckled. With his left hand, he had seized the 
thick auburn braid of Linda Drucker's hair and was yanking it so that her 
face was uplifted and taut with agony. He drew back his gloved right hand 
and slapped her viciously across the face several times. Linda groaned and 
sobbed, but remained silent.

But Linda Drucker, alas, could tell them nothing. For even her own sister
had hidden the shame of that drunken assault in the alley and the cellar 
from the auburn-haired young beauty. And so the two sadists, their lusts 
unleashed, knowing that within a few days a superior officer would be on 
hand to interrogate them as to their actions in Colmar, took their pleasure
while they could. Linda Drucker endured the tortures of the damned. 
Buggered and raped, repeatedly whipped, she was at last left sprawled on 
the bed, more dead than alive. And then the Oberst tugged the bell rope to 
summon Agatha Blomberg, and fiercely ordered the housekeeper to care for 
the girl and to keep her parents from knowing how she had been used, 
"unless you wish to be tied to the whipping post in front of everybody in 
Colmar tomorrow!"

*

Hilde Grasser had had Minnie help her to her room, where the terrified 
young maid had done what she could to palliate the bleeding wounds left by 
the furious birching. Hilde Grasser had forbidden Minnie to tell Magdelena 
what she had endured, and when at last her bruised and bleeding body had 
been sponged and cared for by the weeping young girl, the black-haired 
widow, lying on her belly on her bed, panted, "Minnie, bring me pen and 
paper. I want to write a note to my daughter. You must take her away from 
here, I don't care how. Perhaps Leutnant von Wollenz will help us in this 
our hour of need.

He at least is a decent man and a good person. But my daughter must be 
saved from the Kapitan. I am going to give you a present of many Thalers, 
Minnie. You will be free now, and you must find a good young man and marry 
him and be happy, it's my wish."

"Ja, dear mistress," Minnie sobbed.

And when Minnie had returned, the agonized black-haired widow wrote, not 
without effort and pain, a lengthy note to Franz von Wollenz, which she 
instructed Minnie to give to the handsome blond lieutenant upon his return 
that evening. Addressing the note to Leutnant Franz von Wollenz, she wrote:

' I am going to take laudanum and so this is the last message I shall 
ever give you. I cannot bear to live after the shame I have endured at the 
hands of your superiors. You, God knows, are not at all responsible, but 
since you have acted as a friend, I beg of you to look after my daughter 
Magdelena. You may accept this note as my last will and testament. My 
jewels and many rolls of golden coins are to be found in an iron box in a 
trunk in the cellar. Give Minnie one of the rolls of coins, it will buy her
freedom, for she has served loyally, young and silly though she is. I shall
miss her. But most of all, I shall miss my daughter. In my dying moments, I
want only to think that she will be safe from these fiends who in the name 
of war and wearing the guise of the uniforms of their country, rape and 
destroy and torture for their own selfish lust. May God forgive me for my 
act of self-destruction. And may He bless you for what you can do for 
Magdelena.

Hilde Grasser '

The young lieutenant, after reading the note, turned to Minnie, crumpling
the letter in his hand, his face aghast at the tragedy. "Your mistress is 
dead, Minnie. And my life as a soldier has ended with hers."

At this moment, Magdelena Grasser entered the kitchen and, seeing the 
stricken faces of the young lieutenant and the young maid, uttered a cry: 
"Oh God, what has happened to my poor mother?"

"Fraulein Magdelena, it is well you don't know. I was there-she was brave
and heroic, and she carried her pride to the end."

"To the end? Oh God, what do you mean?"

"Read her letter, my poor girl," the young lieutenant groaned.

The golden-haired young girl seized the crumpled letter and read it, her 
large blue eyes widening with anguish. When she had finished, she drew a 
long shuddering breath and said in a low voice, "But there would have been 
no shame in my eyes. Oh, how I needed her, and now she is gone forever. And
it was he who did all of this, that violent despicable man!"

"Wait, Herr Franz, there's someone at the door now," Minnie gasped.

"Perhaps it is he!" Franz von Wollenz cried as he strode down the 
hallway, with Magdelena and Minnie behind him.

It was indeed Kapitan Heinrich von Luber. "Well now, Franz, so you're 
consoling the daughter instead of the mother, are you?" he drawled, 
adjusting his monacle. "At any rate, I'm glad you've taken my advice.

She's not a bad piece, though she's inexperienced."

Even as he spoke, Franz von Wollenz doubled his fist and struck him with 
all his might, smashing the bridge of his arrogant nose.

He unsheathed his saber, and made a savage lunge at the blond lieutenant,
which Franz von Wollenz narrowly avoided by stepping to one side. Then 
drawing his own saber, he faced the black-haired sadist, his face taut with
grim purpose, knowing only too well that his adversary was infinitely more 
skilled with the saber than he.

The clang of steel filled the antechamber, while Minnie, her hands over 
her mouth, huddled against the wall, praying under her breath.

Mockingly, Heinrich von Luber parried his young adversary's frantic 
lunges and slashes, turning them with a flick of his wrist, master of the 
duel: "You should never fight when you're in a rage, my dear Franz," he 
mockingly laughed. "You'll tire too quickly! And you've no skill at all, 
you handle a saber like a washerwoman!"

"I'm ready to die if I can take you with me," Franz von Wollenz panted, 
narrowly parrying a wicked backhanded slash that nearly laid his neck open 
and tore a shred from the collar of his uniform, at which Minnie uttered a 
frantic cry of terror.

But Magdelena Grasser had stealthily moved behind the arrogant 
black-haired captain. And as Heinrich von Luber, beating down a last 
desperate lunge from his young opponent, prepared to thrust home his saber,
she lifted a kitchen knife and plunged it into the back of her ravisher's 
neck. Heinrich von Luber

coughed, uttered a strangled cry, his saber dropping to the floor with a 
clatter, turned slowly and staggering around to look, reached behind him to
tug out the knife, and then pitched forward to the floor.

The arrival of General von Noldtke from Berlin interrupted Ernst von 
Bruckmann's house-to-house search for the deserter, Leutnant Franz von 
Wollenz. It interrupted a good deal more than that, so far as the 
Kommandant was concerned. After the Mayor of Colmar and his wife, Klara, 
and his daughters, Linda and Marlene had testified, Ernst von Bruckmann was
relieved of his command, Major Ludwig von Lorchbar demoted to the rank of 
Leutnant, and both men were sent back in disgrace to Berlin. The military 
curfew was lifted as was the edict of martial law.

Marlene Drucker, two months later, married her beloved postman, and Linda
Drucker was reunited with her soldier fiance, who married her a week later.
On the same day as their marriage, Franz Von Wollenz and the lovely 
Magdelena Grasser appeared before General von Noldtke in Berlin, where the 
young lieutenant answered the formal charges of desertion laid against him 
by the former Kommandant of Colmar. He was immediately cleared and promoted
to the rank of Hauptman.


THE END
