Slaves of the Swastika by Kenneth Harding Page A

done nothing—I'm just a student—I tell you,” Trudy began to panic herself, her eyes dilating and she felt as if her legs were trembling so hard that they were going to give way any minute beneath her.
    “You can prove all that down at headquarters! Come along, get in the car!” the sergeant snapped.
    “Max, for God's sake, run.” Trudy hissed to her sweetheart. She turned to follow the sergeant who had hold of her elbow, and the bearded young student suddenly broke into a run down the street. The sergeant shoved Trudy towards the car with his left hand, drew a Luger out of its holster with his right, took careful aim and fired a snap shot. Max Dornburg uttered a shriek, flung up his arms, pitched forward on his face and sprawled into the gutter. He was quite dead.
    Trudy stared unbelievingly, and then covered her face with her hands. She was numb with terror and despair. Because now she knew that the Gestapo was going to question her and when they found that her parents were dead, contrary to what she had told the sergeant, they would probably search her place, and when they did, they would find copies of the latest issue of Till Eulenspiegel.
    The two plainclothes men had already decided that Erich Lovrow and Eva Jung ought to be brought along for questioning if only as a mere formality; after all, they had been witnesses to a most unfortunate attempt to escape by an arrested prisoner, a suspect who was about to be charged with treason. And Erich Lovrow, in his terror that his parents who were very upright and bigoted might find out about his liaison with beautiful gold-haired Eva, lost his nerve and began to beg the two Gestapo undercover men to let him go and to say nothing to his parents because otherwise he and his girlfriend would get into trouble. This naturally convinced them that he had something to hide.
    And so the three young people were herded into the car, the door slammed on them, and the uniformed chauffeur drove off to the South towards the grim building in which Helga Nordheim was still undergoing her atrociously prolonged and brutal interrogation by Oberst Friedrich Mueller and Willi Murtens and Manfred Strobel...
    Whimpering, half-fainting, the naked wife of Professor Kurt Nordheim frantically sucked Oberst Muller's aching prick while he playfully continued to flick her dangling upside-down body with the stinging flap of his riding crop. “Now mind, Helga,” he purred, “you're to swallow every drop, otherwise I shall have to punish you for being a sloppy bitch. It won't do to have my good German seed wasted on this dirty floor. Tell me, Liebchen have you ever done this to your dear Professor?”
    “Ohhh—mfff—aggghhh—n—n—no, oh God, let me down, let me down, I'm going to faint, I'm going to die, it hurts me so—oh have pity on me, I'm doing what you want, Herr Oberst!” Helga Nordheim panted.
    “You simply will not learn that when an officer of the Gestapo puts a question to you, you must answer him,” he said silkily. He raised the crop, suspended his arm, paused for a moment, and then brought it straight down, and the flap of the weapon hit home against the inflamed hairless cuntlips of the agonized naked woman.
    A gurgling shriek tore from Helga Nordheim as her entire body seemed to lunge and jerk, and in so doing her mouth left the aching meatus of the Gestapo chief.
    “But that's no answer, you bitch! And look what you've done, you've stopped sucking me just at the point that I was ready to fill your mouth with my good German spunk.” the Oberst snarled. “Willi, help the lady!”
    “Jawoll, mein Oberst!” The Nazi private chuckled as he clicked his heels and saluted. Then he strolled over to the swaying naked body, licked his lips and thrust his right forefinger into Helga grateful to us for effecting such a tender reconciliation. Look out now, I'm going to get ready to spurt right into your mouth, you sweet bitch! Swallow it all down like a good girl, or we'll make