The river was cold,
Julia Schmidt thought. But their destination was only a few more miles,
according to what her captors said. For it was winter and they too were
chilled. They kept telling themselves that warmth and comfort were but a few
miles and once they crossed the Amper River they would be within sight of their
destination. So, Julia Schmidt too, felt some of their relief once the Amper
But she was scantily
clad in a one-piece woollen suit and cloth coat. These Nazis had given her no
time to dress adequately for the journey. They had arrested her and some of her
artist friends outside a small cafe in Munich. Right on the cobbled street
Julia and her companions had been judged and sentenced.
There was no place for
pacifists in the fatherland, they had been informed. Julia, numbed by the
shock, hadn’t resisted. Some of her friends had run and been caught. They were
herded into an alley between the beer hall and another building and machine
The gutters gushed with
blood. The screams of the condemned clattered. Julia Schmidt had silently
watched, tense, every nerve alive. For as the carnage was being perpetrated,
something rose inside her guts, a feeling that she had never felt before.
And the tall, slim,
long legged blonde watched while the butchery went on and on and with each
hoarse kicking explosion from the automatic weapons, Julia Schmidt flinched.
Each involuntary spasm of her nerves caused another and stronger impulse to
shoot through her belly, igniting her cunt. Her panties were soaked at the crotch,
but she was only vaguely aware of what the slaughter of her friends was doing
to her vagina. All she knew was that she was horrified and repulsed by this
brutal, wanton slaying and, at the same time, attracted to the spilling of
blood, the sound of the screams and the muffled impact of the bullets against
the young, vibrant bodies of her fellow artists.
When the soldiers took
the survivors away in a truck, she felt a hatred for these men who had
conducted, with relish, the murder of her companions. But even then, the warmth
remained in her belly and cunt, counterpointing the disgust she had for the
As the truck left Munich she worried for her parents, middle class Bavarian
show owners, and her fiancé: Helmut Fredericks, who, like Julia, was a student
of art at the local university. As Munich became enveloped in mists directly
behind the truck, her shock abated and she was uncomfortably aware of the two
soldiers and plain clothes chief seated on either side of her - and of the two
other girls seated facing her.
The soldiers guarding
the two girls had their hands on Sonya and Willa and
the two students tried to push the boys away.
“What is the matter,
Fraulein? We smell too bad, eh?” The soldier held Sonya by her breast and as he
squeezed the girl whimpered and continued to fight.
“No, no, liebling,” the
soldier crooned, “you must not resist.”
But as Sonya struggled,
the pain in Julia Schmidt’s cunt became more severe and she shoved a hand
between the folds of her coat and under the hem of her skirt and she spread
back the crotch of her panties and the thick hair of her cunt became saturated
with lust oil as her fingers brushed the puckered labia.
Julia Schmidt winced
and groaned as she pushed back the snug cunt lips and touched her clitoris.
Lust juice spattered her fingertips but as the cries of her two friends became
louder, as their anguished shouts rose, the anguish in Julia Schmidt’s cunt
became more intense.
The high breasted
German girl rammed her finger against the sensitive inner cunt muscles and the
easing delight of masturbation made her cunt shudder. Julia’s voice rose to
match the screams of her friends who were being raped viciously on the truck
floor by their husky, blond captors.
Hans Zukor, the only
member of the brown shirts dressed in street clothes, remained passive beside
Julia Schmidt, watching as she watched. His cock was swollen but he fought the
urge to strip and fling himself on this woman seated at her side. He needed
more than a naked woman to excite him, but then he smelled the bitter muskiness
of Julia’s pussy and heard her outcries and with a hoarse whimper stinging his
throat, he turned toward the voluptuous young woman. Her fingers continued
ramming her pussy and for a moment he thought she was reaching for a weapon
under her coat, missed when she was hastily searched before boarding the truck.
Hans Zukor grabbed her
arm, jerked her fingers free and, when he saw dots of cum jammed beneath her
long fingernails, he laughed and dragged the struggling woman toward the rear
of the truck where there was space.
“Masturbation is such a
waste,” Hans Zukor rasped as he forced Julia to her knees. His cock was
swollen, and strained against his fly.
“Please,” Julia Schmidt
whimpered. She was a virgin, and afraid of this wild-eyed brute of a man, and
even more frightened of the sexual ambivalence she was feeling. “Oh, no,
please, don’t hurt me.”
Zukor twisted her
wrists, forcing her over on her side, pushing hard against her outstretched
arms, making her lie on the cold gnarled and splintered floorboards. The stink
of the petrol, and warped wet wood made Julia gag and her head throb as
intensely as the pounding in her vagina.
“Yes, please,” Zukor
breathed, pushing her over on her back, “beg for mercy. I want you to beg.”
Zukor pushed her away
suddenly and Julia Schmidt whimpered. He flung off his topcoat, then the grey
flannel suit jacket. His white shirt gleamed in the glow of the oil lamp in a
nearby corner; his dark tie was a rumpled snake spanning his middle up to his
throat. As Julia Schmidt cringed, her vagina pulsing maddeningly, the tall
intelligence officer unzipped his fly. His cock was enormous; long and thick
and red tipped the huge muscle rose toward Julia. She screamed, flung herself
back until her shoulders struck the back of the truck. As Julia tried to escape
the crouching, advancing, hard breathing figure her cunt spasmed and the pain
of her pent-up orgasm rent her clitoris.
Julia Schmidt was
unable to control her raging lust but, at the same time, she was frightened.
And then Hans Zukor was a foot from her quivering body and the two other girls
were screaming as the soldiers repeatedly raped their virginal cunts.
The sight of that
monstrously huge prick coupled with the screaming of her friends made Julia
Schmidt’s pussy throb and her clitoris twinge like a raw nerve. It was as
though she had to have this cold damp truck with the savagery going on within
the truck’s narrow walls to excite her surging glands. Julia had never experienced
this sort of raw animalistic lust. She was terrified of what she might become
if these brutes touched the right nerve, elicited the right response.
If she became what she
feared she would be forever damned. Even though she was a virgin from an unsophisticated
family, she was still educated.
Hans Zukor watched the
girl’s eyes widen, then become glazed and roll as though she were in a faint.
The lids fluttered. Her lips pulled across her saliva slickened teeth and she
grinned stupidly - a nervous mouth spasm rather than a smile of anticipation.
Yes, he thought smugly,
he had chosen wisely. It would not take long.
“Come now, bitch, get
your skirt up ... up ...” Zukor snarled, hands on hips, his big cock straining,
the veins throbbing with cum.
“No,” she whimpered.
But she pulled her skirt higher, to her waist. Her silk stockings were gartered
to her thighs and when the thigh muscles rippled the silk danced and hissed.
Zukor undid his belt.
His pants dropped to his ankles. He jerked her legs aside. Julia Schmidt cried
out, gagged, shivered as slivers bit her buttocks. Terror ripped through her
brain but was submerged in a stronger, more urgent emotion of desire. In spite
of her fears, the need for this bizarre linking of flesh rose like bile,
choking off reason, leaving only the desire.
“Come now, liebchen,”
Hans Zukor rasped. “Spread yourself, make yourself wet for your new lover.” Zukor
reached down, whipped his belt from his pants, folded the heavy leather belt in
half, gripped the buckle tightly.
retching, sobbing, backed into a corner and cringed there like a trapped rat.
“No,” the blonde whimpered. “I am a virgin. You must not do that to me. Oh ...
The sight of the belt
swelled across her field of vision, filled her brain, and every artery of
thought was clogged with the vision and the feel of the impending brutality.
Zukor’s laugh rose
above the screams of the raped girls. Zukor turned to see what his troops were
doing to Willa and Sonya. The two virgins were being butt fucked and their
virgin’s blood was matted to their smooth silken thighs and clotted to their
thick pubic bushes, and drained along the rutted flooring. Yes, Zukor thought,
it would be better if he broke her in slowly.
“Come now,” Hans Zukor
snarled. “Over on your face.”
Julia Schmidt saw the
fate of her two artist companions and she screamed, an endless ululation. But
her cunt surged with lust and her clitoris ached, so she thought she would
faint. The rippling of those plump, smooth ovular buttocks set her juices
flowing and ignited a fire that reached to the back of her vagina. As the
soldiers drove their massive cocks deep into the bowels of her two helpless
friends, her rectum tightened and a sharp pain knifed her intestines. It was
almost as if she were experiencing the humiliation, the pain.