Slaves of the Swastika by Kenneth Harding Page B

you swallow a quart of castor oil and leave you here all night long tied up like this, and I mean it, Helga!” His voice suddenly grew raucous and strained. He closed his eyes, tilted back his head, his breathing heavy and quickened. Helga Nordheim, mad with shame and terror, feeling the stinging bite of the riding crop which Willi Murtens still continued to flick across her tender legs and bottom, prepared herself. And then with a bellow, the Gestapo officer gave out with the bubbling viscosity in his hairy balls, and Helga Norhheim spluttered and choked and coughed but, luckily for her, managed her very first time to swallow every drop.
    “Not too bad, for a beginner,” the Gestapo officer languidly observed. “You can take her down from the hook now, boys. Put her back on the table, but this time on her belly, and tie her and blindfold her. We'll give her a little rest while we think up something new. She's getting to the informative stage, now. Pretty soon she'll be very eager to tell us all she knows about Till Eulenspiegel.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    The two Nazi privates had greedily lifted up Helga Nordheim's naked, sweating, striped and blotched body from the ceiling hook and carried her over to the table again, laid her down on her belly, tethered her wrists and ankles to the legs, then blindfolded her. Willi Murtens went over to a little stand near the door, took out a bottle of strong smelling salts, uncorked it, and waved it under the victim's nose. Slowly the flaxen-haired young matron regained consciousness, and began to groan. The vertigo which she had endured while hanging upside down from the hook had terrified her, but now that it was receding, she became agonizedly aware of the perverse and depraved act she had just been forced to commit... sucking the cock of the Oberst.
    The fat Gestapo officer took up both his gloves, gripped them in his right hand, lifted them up and brought them down with a loud THWACK straight across Helga's naked bottom. Even as she groaned aloud and fitfully jerked under this unexpected attack, he raised his right hand and this time swept the gloves down in a straight vertical stroke which bit along the sinuous shadowy cleft between the plump, quaking and by now furiously welted cheeks of her behind. Her head rose, her mouth gaped in a shrill cry.
    “This is a moment of communication, my dear Helga,” he remarked. “Now you've had a taste of what we can do when we get angry with a guest in this charming salon, and I do hope you're going to be reasonable, because it greatly distresses the three of us as well as you, to have to rack our brains to think up new ways of acting uncouth and despicable towards such a beautiful bitch as yourself.”
    Murtens and Strobel watched him admiringly as they listened. The Herr Oberst had a line of gab, you couldn't get around that. Always poking fun at the prisoner, and the cute thing about it was it almost never failed to get results. Take that big-tit-tied bitch on the table now. She didn't know whether she's coming or going, and she was probably expecting worse carryings-on than she had already had, and here the Herr Oberst was just teasing her. A good playful swat on the Arsch with those gloves—now that was nothing at all, she hardly even felt it. They had not really got through to her yet, and in a way the two subordinates hoped there would be something left inside of maybe an hour or two, because they each had a desire to fuck that sweet kootzele of hers. She was very tight and she was certainly wet inside that tight little box of hers. If the Herr Oberst gave her just enough pain—but not too much—she'd be hot as a firecracker when they got to her and she'd fairly explode when she felt a good Aryan cock shoved into her cunt.
    “Now I know you're going to be reasonable, Frau Nordheim,” the Gestapo chief seated himself on the low footstool where he had had poor Helga Nordheim French him while hanging upside down. “So I'm going to treat