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The Standard Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction with content suitable only for adults (and stable ones at that). If you are prohibited from reading such material by the laws or standards of your community please depart immediately. Likewise, if you can’t tell the difference between reality and fantasy get the heck outta here.
At Gestapo Headquarters
by
von Hentzau
Part III
“Prepare her,” Frau Buesch commanded. The two guards stepped forwards and seized Suzanne by the arms. She was taken to the wooden trestle and made to stand facing it. One of the guards knelt down and placed leather cuffs on her ankles. These were then hooked to rings set in the floor near the legs of the trestle, forcing her to spread her legs slightly more than a shoulder’s width apart. Then cuffs were fastened around her wrists and Suzanne was forced to bend forward until these wrist cuffs could be hooked to the same rings as her ankles. The wooden crossbar of the trestle dug into her abdomen, making it hard to breath.
When Suzanne was secured the guards stepped back and Frau Buesch walked slowly around Suzanne, inspecting the arrangement. She carried a thin wooden cane, which she periodically slapped against the palm of her free hand.
“A most uncomfortable position, no?” she said. “Bent over like that, you cannot breath very well, can you?” She ran the fingers of one hand along Suzanne's spine, from shoulders to buttocks. “And you must know how exposed you are in this position.” The fingers continued down to fondle the split oval of Suzanne's sex, framed between her upper thighs. They worked their way between the outer lips and found her clitoris. Slowly, mercilessly they squeezed the small, sensitive nubbin.
“Believe me, mademoiselle,” Frau Buesch whispered in Suzanne's ear, “I can and will do the most horrible things to you, things you cannot even imagine, things you would not believe a woman could do to another woman, if you insist on being stubborn.”
Suzanne remained silent, resigning herself to the worst. The fingers again stroked Suzanne's cleft, once, twice. Then there was the soft sound of footsteps as Frau Buesch stepped away from Suzanne. A moment later there was a whizzing sound followed by a sharp pain on a line straight across her buttocks, then radiating outwards, up towards the small of her back and down the backs of her thighs. A second stroke landed almost immediately, then a third, each coming faster than the previous. Suzanne was quickly reduced to screaming at the top of her lungs. She felt as if her rump was being sliced to ribbons.
“As I said,” Frau Buesch’s voice came to her, mocking, “I will do the most horrible things to you that you can imagine. That was just a warm up. Now I will take it much slower, so that you can enjoy each and every stroke fully.”
She was a good as her word. Now there were long pauses between each stinging cut of the cane. And Frau Buesch was careful to spread the strokes out, from the top of Suzanne’s buttocks well down onto her thighs, until the entire region was crisscrossed with angry red stripes.
Between the pain, the screaming and the crossbar pressing against her belly and making it hard to breathe Suzanne was soon on he point of passing out. Her head lolled and she was barely able to respond with even a faint moan to the strikes. The pungent smell of an ammonia capsule held beneath her nose brought her around again.
“My dear,” Frau Buesch said with an acid tone, “I can’t have you going to sleep just now. Why, you’d miss the best part.” She slapped Suzanne lightly on each cheek.
Suzanne heard a few footsteps. Then she felt something, the cane she thought, rubbing against her thighs and then her lower back. And then it was being held vertically and sawing against her labia, first on the left, then on the right. And then the wooden rod was sawing up and down in her slit.
“She wouldn’t!” Suzanne thought in panic.
But she did. First the cane was pulled back a short distance and slapped lightly against Suzanne’s sex. Then a little harder and a little harder and still harder. Then there was a slight pause as Frau Buesch shifted position. Now she was standing beside Suzanne, bringing the cane down in a wide arc, battering her labia and the inner slopes of her buttocks around her anus. Mercifully it was not long before Suzanne lost consciousness, and if Frau Buesch tried to revive her with ammonia capsules, she was not successful.
When Suzanne did slowly come back to wakefulness she found herself lying on her side on the floor, bend over with her wrists tied to her ankles. As her eyes began to focus again she realized she was still in the torture chamber. They hadn’t bothered to take her back down to the cells this time. She looked around, as much as she could the way she was bound. She seemed to be alone in the room. Time passed but Suzanne was unable to tell whether it was ten minutes or an hour. She heard the door open and looked up. Frau Buesch entered, followed by Renate and two guards.
“Prepare her as I described,” Frau Buesch said.
The guards seemed to approach Suzanne but then they walked past her. Suzanne heard a scraping sound. She looked up to see them moving a heavy wooden bench from the wall to the center of the room. It was short, not even a meter long, and it was taller than a bench should be. It was made of heavy wooden planks. At one end two short lengths of pipe jutted out at angles, each ending in a short upright. She wondered what it was for.
The two guards came to suzanne and unfastened her wrists and ankles, leaving the cuffs in place, and helped her to her feet. They led her to the bench and sat her on it. Her feet didn't quite touch the floor. Then one of the guards seized her ankles while the other grabbed her shoulders. Suzanne was forced to turn around and straddle the bench, one leg being passed over the pipe extensions at the end.
The guard holding her shoulders forced her to lay down on the bench. Her wrist cuffs were snapped to rings set low on the legs of the bench. Her legs were bent back and her ankle cuffs hooked to rings set on the other pair of legs. The purpose of the metal pipes was now obvious. They kept her from closing her legs. Suzanne's pussy was fully opened and exposed.
The guards looped leather straps around her thighs and the pipes. A wide leather belt went around her waist and the bench. Finally two short pieces of rope were wrapped around the base of each breast and cinched down, forcing the sensitive globes to stand upright.
Frau Buesch approached.
“Well, Suzanne,” she said, “have you decided to talk, or shall we have to continue our efforts to persuade you?” She idly fondled one of Suzanne's nipples as she did so. She waited for Suzanne to respond, and started to squeeze the tender nubbin.
“Very well,” Frau Buesch said, turning to the guards. “You may bring her in.”
Suzanne heard the door open again, heard shuffling footsteps approaching. She looked up to see a young woman, barely more than a girl, naked and with her hands bound behind her back, being brought in. She was very petite, slender, and couldn't have been more than eighteen at the most. Her breasts were barely more than suggestions. Her head and crotch had been shaven as Suzanne's had. The entire front of her body was cris-crossed with red weals.
The guards brought her to a place between Suzanne's legs and forced her to kneel.
“Now, girl,” Frau Buesch said to her, “you have a choice. You can lick this filthy French cunt or you can suck off the entire SS detachment. Which will it be?”
The girl obediently bent forward. Suzanne felt her tongue hesitantly begin to explore her intimate folds.
“I thought you would choose wisely, my dear,” Frau Buesch said with a sneer. “Do a good job now. I’ve heard how wonderful you French whores are with your tongues. Don’t disappoint me. Or Suzanne.”
The girl began to lick Suzanne, tentatively at first. Suzanne heard a slap, of hand on flesh. The girl’s tongue left her for a moment. And then it was back and the girl was performing, if not with more enthusiasm as least more vigor. In spite of the situation, or perhaps because of it, because her tender regions had been treated so roughly the last several days and this pleasurable action was so unexpected, Suzanne began to respond to the girl’s attentions. She heard faint giggling, a comment about her nipples, and realized that her nipples were responding, growing hard.
Suddenly Suzanne felt as if her right breast had exploded, sending shocks spreading through her body. She screamed. When she regained control she raised her head and looked around. The young girl had pulled back. She was staring at Suzanne with frightened eyes. Renate was standing to Suzanne's right. In her hand was a strange device, a plastic handle with a thin metal tube extending from it. The tube ended in two brass prongs, with a gap of a couple centimeters between them. Electric wire trailed off from the other end of the handle. Renate's dark brown eyes shone with a vicious delight.
“Electricity,” Frau Buesch said, as if addressing a grammar school class. “It's a wonderful thing, isn't it. Where would we be without it?” She walked partway around Suzanne, until she was behind the young girl. She gently pushed the girl's head back down. “Please continue.”
Once again the girl's tongue began to flick back and forth across Suzanne's labia and clitoris. Again, though it took longer, Suzanne’s body began to respond. Knowing what was coming seemed not to make a difference. Gradually her rebellious body began to surrender to the stimulation. And then the prongs pressed against her left breast and agonizing pain surged through her body again.
“Isn’t this a fun game?” Frau Buesch asked. “We like it so much we might play it all day. Unless you would prefer to tell us interesting stories instead.”
She waited for a reply. Suzanne closed her eyes and wished with all her might that her tormentor would make a mistake. Just one jolt, one too powerful jolt that would stop her heart and put an end to this.
“Very well, we’ll continue. I should warn you, Suzanne,” Frau Buesch said with a vicious laugh, “if we play this game with you too long, you may never be able to enjoy sex again.”
Again the girl began working her tongue. Again Renate pressed the electric prod against Suzanne’s helpless breasts. Suzanne lost count of the number of times they repeated the cycle, though soon she no longer was responding to the girl’s attentions.
“Frau Buesch,” Renate said after several minutes, “I don’t think the girl is getting a response anymore.”
“It is as I just said,” Frau Buesch said, clucking her tongue.”We have perhaps ruined poor Suzanne’s love life. But that is not our problem, is it?” She turned to one of the guards. “Remove this little French tart. Select the most deserving of the Waffen-SS gruppen. Make her available to service them for the next twenty-four hours. That should provide a little incentive to the rest of them, nein?”
Suzanne was barely half conscious as the girl was led, whining, from the room. She felt a hand exploring her body,
“One talent you must master when using electricity, Renate, is judging how long to apply the probe for maximum effect. You have here an excellent subject to experiment on. Try some variation in duration.”
“Where shall I apply the probe, Frau Buesch?”
“A good question. Applying the probe most anywhere will cause considerable pain. Consider though that Suzanne has already been subjected to considerable stimulation and has most likely grown somewhat inured to the probe. So I would suggest you choose a particularly sensitive region.”
Suzanne heard the sound of Renate’s footsteps. She raised her head enough to see what she feared she’d see, Renate standing, framed between the V of her legs. She was extending the probe towards Suzanne’s crotch. Suzanne closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. A moment later pain shot through her body and she arched upwards, straining at her bonds.
The probe was withdrawn and Suzanne sank back down onto the bench, panting rapidly to catch her breast. Again she felt the touch of the metal and almost immediately a second shock surged through her. This time the probe was held in place longer. Suzanne screamed until sh had no breath left and finally sank into unconsciousness.
To be continued...........
Copyright is claimed on this work by the author. Since I may wish to publish it again at a future date permission to copy, republish or distribute it in any form is expressly prohibited with the sole exception of personal, non-commercial use.
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