Anna opened her eyes, but her world was still dark. Where was she?
She tried to sit up, but couldn't move her arms or legs. She was on her back, with her arms over her head. But she couldn't move them. She tried again. No. Her wrists were chained. She could feel the metal cuffs around them. She tried to pull her feet up. She could not. And now she could feel metal cuffs around her ankles. She was not in pain. She was stretched on her back, spreadeagled on a wooden board, but not so far that her joints hurt. She could feel a hood over her head. But she had no trouble breathing.
She twisted her body. She could feel her shirt against it. And her bra. She rubbed her buttocks against the board. She was wearing pants and panties. She wriggled her toes. She was wearing her shoes.
What was the last thing she remembered? She thought hard. She remembered waking up and getting dressed. In black. She liked dressing in black. A black buttoned shirt and black pants. Black panties and bra. Low cut so she could unbutton an extra button to show her cleavage. For a woman 5'5" and 125 pounds, she had very nice cleavage. And she was grateful that she could dress so nicely. Not many could. Not in wartime. Not in Germany in early 1945, with the war nearly lost. And the Allies closing in. But her own small unit continued to operate as best it could. But now. What was happening?
What had she done after getting dressed? Was it that morning? Or had more time passed while she unconscious. She knew that she had blacked out. And now she was chained.
Her concentration was broken when she heard a noise. A door opening and closing. Someone was walking toward her.
Chapter 2 (earlier that day )
Marta and Hilda had met with Walter earlier that morning. Marta was the leader of the female intelligence unit of the German army. Hilda was her second in command. Walter was its liaison for all of the army's intelligence units, but Marta outranked him. The Germans saw at least two advantages to using a female intelligence unit. Men were na´ve and less likely to believe that a woman was a spy. And men were easily seducible. Especially by women like Marta, Hilda and their small crew. Not many men could resist Marta's dark hair and eyes, well-endowed chest and shapely body. Hilda's hair and complexion was lighter, but her body was equal to her leader's.
The three had met that morning because they had to address two problems. One huge and one smaller. The huge problem was that the Allies, supported by the French Resistance, would likely overrun their town later that day or the next. If that happened ... no, when that happened, as it was inevitable, they had orders to move closer to Berlin as soon as they could. The smaller problem was that they had determined that there was a mole in their unit. Their last three assignments had been ruined. Someone was tipping off their targets. It had to be someone inside their unit. Probably planted by the Resistance. There were only Marta and Hilda and six other women in the unit. The possibilities were few.
"You don't operate with us. You have less information than we do." Marta looked at Walter. "So why do you think it's Anna?"
"It's just a hunch," Walter answered, "but a strong hunch."
"It could be any of the six. Shit, it could even be me or Hilda."
"It's not you or Hilda. No. It's got to be Anna and I think you suspect her, too. Do you have a better suspect? We didn't have any trouble before she joined us."
"What if we're wrong?"
"We would be no worse off than we are now. As it is, your unit hasn't completed a mission in how long?"
"But unless Anna confesses, we won't know if we were right."
"I'm pretty sure she'll confess. I know how you operate. And I will be happy to assist."
Marta looked at Hilda. "You've been silent."
Hilda nodded. "She'll confess."
Chapter 3 (the present)
Anna heard a click and felt her wrists pulled upward. Just a bit. She bit her lip under the hood. She didn't want anyone to know that she had revived.
She heard a second click and felt her wrists pulled farther upward. Still not enough to cause her pain. But enough to stretch her fully. No bend left in her elbows.
A third click. This one started to cause her pain, but she forced herself not to scream or twist or otherwise reveal that she was conscious. She tried to control her breathing. To keep it steady.
She felt hands near her waist. Another click. This one different. The clasp on her belt. She could feel her belt as it was removed. And then the clasp on her pants. Its zipper tugged down. She felt her pants as they were pulled down over her buttocks to below her knees. The slashing of a knife. She felt the cool air on her legs as her pants were removed, leaving her wearing only her thin panties below her waist. And her black heels. Her heart was racing but she forced herself to remain still. She heard whoever had been stripping her walk away. The door opened and closed. And then all was quiet again.
She let out a soft groan. Her limbs were starting to ache.
Chapter 4 (earlier that day)
"Here is how we are going to solve our problem." Marta opened the meeting with all members of their unit, plus Walter. All the women wore dark button-down shirts and dark pants. It was their "uniform." Walter was dressed similarly.
"We are going to put each of the six of you in a separate room. Then Walter, Hilda and I are going to speak to each of you individually," she continued. "There will just be the four of us in the room, so you can speak freely about your thoughts and your ideas without concern that anyone else here will hear what you have to say. Or whom you might suspect or why. You each have your room assignments. Go."
The others dispersed. Walter, Marta and Hilda then went through the motions of visiting five of the rooms and hearing what those members had to say, their questions and conclusions guided by the assumptions they had already formed. When Marta finally opened the door to the sixth room, she knew what they would find. All three of them did. And they were right. Anna was sitting on a chair by the table in the center of the room. Her body from her waist up was slumped over the table, her head turned to one side. Her arms were extended on each side of her head. She was unconscious. Her right hand had knocked over her coffee cup, spilling its contents across the table. It was not dripping onto the floor. Marta and Hilda lifted Anna off the table by her arms and dragged her out of the room. No one else was at headquarters. They had purposefully scheduled the meeting on a Sunday morning just for this reason.
Chapter 5 (the present)
Anna again tried to remember what had she done after getting dressed. What day was it? It was ... a Sunday. Yes, Sunday. Marta had scheduled a meeting at headquarters for a Sunday. To discuss "the problem." And then she had gone to a separate room, and then Marta and Hilda ... wait, someone else, too -- Walter, the guy from central headquarters -- was going to join her so she could tell them her thoughts about the "problem." And she certainly had thoughts that she planned to share with them. And she was confident that she was right.
But she couldn't remember actually telling them. She had gone to her separate room. She remembered that. At least she thought she remembered that. And then? What happened after that? She couldn't remember.
Again she heard the door open and close and footsteps approaching her. Damn. She felt a man's hands -- the same hands, she thought -- checking to see how taut she was stretched. Feeling her ankles and thighs and hips and arms and wrists. She felt his hands unbuttoning her shirt and pulling it open. Certainly he must be staring at her chest. She always liked it when men stared at her chest. Until now. She felt the sleeves of her shirt being cut and pulled completely off of her body. Now she was stretched wearing only her bra and panties and heels. And hood. She tried not to show that she was conscious.
Chapter 6 (earlier that day)
Marta and Walter dragged Anna down the stairs to a large basement room and pulled her up onto a wood table at the room's center. They secured her ankles to cuffs attached to the table's lower corners. Then they cuffed her wrists to the sides of the roller bar at the top. They were just finishing when Hilda joined them.
"You used the standard dose in her coffee?" Hilda asked Walter.
"Actually, I used twice the dose. I wanted to be sure." Walter responded.
"Twice the dose? She will be out two hours. We haven't got the time. You know we have to evacuate." Marta tried to calm her. "All right." She looked at Walter. "You fucked up. But we are where we are. We can't do anything about that. Before she comes to strip her and stretch her. And call me as soon as she's conscious. Oh, and until she is, guard the room so no one knows she's here. Just in case anyone should happen to walk by." She and Hilda left Walter alone with Anna.
Walter knew that Hilda and Marta were right. With the Allies approaching so quickly, he shouldn't have given Anna a double dose. Walter sat down in a chair outside the room and put his head in his hands, nervous about what might happen to him if she reported this to their superiors. Most German high officials were paranoid about who might have betrayed the cause, which was the only way they believed they could now be losing the war. Walter certainly didn't want any fingers pointed at him.
Chapter 7 (present)
Anna felt a man's hand pinch her face under the hood, looking for signs that she had revived. Finding none, he cursed under his breath. She felt cold steel against her bare stomach. The side of a knife, she knew. She felt his hand grab the material between the cups of her bra and her breasts released as the man cut through it. Two flicks of its blade through the shoulder straps and he pulled her bra off. Two more flicks of the knife against the sides of her panties and he pulled them off, revealing the black triangle of hair between her legs, leaving her naked, stretched and spread-eagled, except for her shoes and hood. She continued to lie motionless.
She felt a leather strap around the top of her throat, and realized that he was securing her head in place so that she could not lift it, fastening the ends of the strap through the wooden board on each side of her neck. The board suddenly shook, and she realized that the man had climbed onto it. She could think of only one reason why he would climb on the board and, in a second, she knew that she was right.
The man lay his body on top of hers. She could feel that he was already erect. He pressed his chest against hers and kissed her on the side of her neck. She continued to feign unconsciousness but with her body stretched even farther as his weight pressed down on hers, she knew that he would soon know that she was not.
She felt his hands on her breasts, and then his mouth and tongue. His fingers pinched her nipples, which were already hard. She could feel the moisture between her legs as he pushed himself into her and began to thrust. She let out an involuntary moan.
He stopped suddenly and pulled the hood off of her head. She opened her eyes slowly, knowing that there was no point in continuing the charade. She saw his face a few inches above hers. Walter. So it was true. She was the one whom they suspected of being the "problem."
He smiled broadly. "I am so glad," he thrust deeply, his anxieties removed by his knowledge that she was now awake and ready to be questioned, "to see," he thrust again, "that you are," and again, "awake," and again and again. With each thrust, her hips screamed in pain as he pushed her stretched body farther upward, and then her wrists and elbows strained as he pulled her back down with him.
She was sure that it would be over soon, that, with his new found excitement, he could not last long. She was wrong. He continued to push deeply into her, and she started to scream. Partly ... no mostly ... because her limbs were being stretched beyond what they could bear without pain. Partly because she was spread-eagled and chained and helpless and being violated ... and about to be accused of being the "problem." But also partly because her body could not separate its natural physical pleasure from the terror of her present situation.
Finally, she felt his liquid pour into her, as he tried to hold himself inside. After a minute of trying feebly to extend his pleasure, he pulled his now soft organ out of her, climbed off the rack and removed the strap around her neck. "Just needed that to make sure you didn't try to bite me."
Walter was still zipping up his pants when Marta and Hilda returned. "Is she ready?" Marta asked. Walter was very relieved to be able to say that she was.
Marta approached, checked the bonds and nodded. Hilda and Walter joined her standing around the rack holding the helpless Anna. [See Anna Pic]
"So you can see that we and your comrades have figured out that you are the problem," Marta advised Anna.
"Not true," Anna responded weakly, her limbs aching from the stretch of the rack and her lungs still trying to recover from the pressure of Walter's recent violation. "You never gave me a chance to tell you."
"We came to ask you your thoughts. But you were, well, in no condition to talk to us."
"I ... I don't remember. Drugged. You drugged me, I think."
Marta fondled Anna's right breast. "When all eight of us had already reached the same conclusion, the only possible conclusion, what was the point? But go ahead. Tell us your thoughts. We want to be fair."
"It's Christine." Anna wasn't sure how much time they would give her, so she had to be direct and brief. "Christine is the problem."
"Really? Christine? How did I know that you would pick Christine?" Marta's voice oozed sarcasm.
"Yes. It is Christine."
"I see," Marta responded. Hilda and Walter just smiled. "What problems did we have between the time that she joined us, what, two years ago, and the time that you joined us six months ago? Are you aware of any?"
"Of course not," Anna's voice raised. "She waited until I joined so she wouldn't be suspected, but I would. She couldn't do anything when she was the newcomer. Because everyone would suspect her."
Marta nodded to Walter, who gave the roller at the top of the rack another click, stretching Anna's limbs to the point where she had to raise her back off the board, and bringing forth a loud scream.
"That's what you get each time you give us such bullshit." Marta watched as Anna's body slowly slumped back down to the board, increasing the pain in her wrists and elbows and hips. Anna's mouth remained open, panting for breath. "No ... it's not ... it's not .... bullshit."
"Well, according to your theory," Marta leaned close to Anna, whose body continued to tremble, "it couldn't be Christine because everyone would know that it couldn't be you since it would be so obvious that you wouldn't have dared do anything. So it would have to be Christine. But wouldn't that have then been too obvious? So that it couldn't be Christine, but had to be whoever joined us before Christine? And on and on. A basic flaw in logic. I guess you never studied logic in school, did you?"
"I'm telling you," Anna screamed at Marta. "It's not me. It has to be Christine."
"So was it Christine who disappeared for an hour two days ago without permission? No, it was you."
"I didn't disappear. She told me to deliver a message."
"Did you deliver a message?"
"No. I couldn't find a person matching the description."
"Well, Christine denies that she gave you any such instruction."
"Of course she denies it. She set me up."
"We'll let you think about it." Marta headed for the door, followed by Walter and Hilda.
"You can't leave me like this !!" Anna screamed after them, her body stretched to the breaking point.
Marta turned back to the screaming Anna. "Not a very original line. And we can." Anna heard the door slam behind them.
"The Allies are getting very close. We've been ordered to evacuate. We haven't got time for her." Marta stood with Hilda and Walter outside the door to the torture chamber.
"So what do we do with her?" Walter asked.
"Get a confession. Put a bullet through her head. And get out of here. We haven't time for anything else."
"Why do we need the confession? Whoever is forced to stay to get it may not have time to get away." Walter could not see why they should spend any more time on Anna.
"You're just willing to kill her without knowing for sure?"
"I'm sure enough. If I don't get her confession in 30 minutes, I'm finishing her and getting out of here with you."
"Done," Marta consented. "We're all moving out in 30 minutes. Be ready." Marta and Hilda walked away.
Walter returned to the room. Anna was still screaming in pain, trying desperately, but unsuccessfully, to relieve the tension on her stretched limbs. "I told you. It's Christine," she screamed at Walter as soon as she saw him come back into the room.
"Look. You've got a simple choice. Confess and I'll just put a bullet in her head and you're out of your pain. Don't confess and I'm going to start cutting pieces of your flesh off. You've got 15 minutes to decide. And if you decide no, then the 15 minutes after that are going to be the worst ... and the last ... of your life. I'm going back to my apartment to get some things. We're evacuating in 30 minutes before your fucking Resistance friends take over the town. But that will be just a bit too late for you."
Walter hurried out of the room. Anna continued to scream.
The extreme pain in Anna's limbs distorted her sense of time, but she was sure that it had been more than 10 minutes ... much more than 10 minutes ... since Walter had left the room. It wasn't that she looked forward to his return. It was just that she didn't look forward to remaining in her stretched position either. She felt that her shoulders were going to separate at any second. Still, perhaps this was preferable to the alternative that Walter had promised her upon his return.
When the door finally opened again, and Walter entered the room, her heart began to race. But she soon saw that ... something was strange. There were others behind Walter. And Walter ... Walter had his hands clasped behind his head. Suddenly Anna realized what was happening.
Following Walter into the room, with their hands also clasped behind their heads, were Marta and Hilda. And following them were four armed soldiers, all pointing guns at their backs. The Allies had arrived sooner than they had anticipated. They had not gotten away.
"Well, what have we here?" The soldier standing directly behind Walter looked at the straining Anna.
"One of yours," Walter answered softly.
"Pierre, release the tension from that roller," the soldier instructed. "We'll get back to her in a few minutes, once we've got these three secured." Pierre obeyed immediately. Anna let out a huge groan as her body, still chained but not longer stretched, collapsed to the table. His name was Pierre, she thought. It was the French.
The other three soldiers prodded their captives to the back of the room until they were standing directly under sets of cuffs hanging from chains in the ceiling. "Yes, properly equipped, I see. This will work fine, wouldn't you say, Marcel?"
"Most definitely, Antoine. Most definitely," answered Marcel, who was standing directly behind Walter. "Gerard, do the honors."
Gerard put his gun into his belt and moved in front of Marta. He pulled her wrists high over her head and secured them inside the cuffs attached to the chains hanging from the ceiling, making sure that she was stretched so that only her toes could touch the floor, and then only barely.
In turn, he moved to Walter, standing between the two women, and then to Hilda. Soon they too were stretched with their arms over their heads, their wrists cuffed to the hanging chains, their toes barely able to touch the ground.
"Antoine, continue." Marcel could see Antoine waiting for his chance to participate.
Antoine moved in front of Marta, grabbed her shirt by its collar, and pulled it open, tearing her bra apart at the same time. He stared at Marta's large breasts until Marcel snapped at him to continue. Antoine loosened Marta's belt and pulled her pants off. She said nothing. Pierre approached her from behind, wadded the back of her shirt in his hand, and cut through it with his knife, then slit through the shirt's sleeves until it came off in his hands. He kicked off her heels, sending her body, now clothed only in her torn white panties, swinging with her toes off the floor. She let out a loud grunt as her shoulders quickly exploded in pain. [see Marta Pic] Finally, he cut off the remnants of her panties, exposing her triangle of dark pubic hair, completing her humiliation.
Antoine walked in front of Walter. With not so much relish, he performed the same tasks on him, then stepped back and observed his handiwork. "Boss, this one's scared," he yelled back at Marcel. "Look. His prick is all shriveled into his scrotum. That means he's scared." Walter stared at Antoine with contempt. "Of course, you should be."
Antoine moved on to Hilda. In a matter of seconds, she was as naked and as stretched as Marta, the patch of hair between her legs lighter than Marta's. [see Hilda Pic] Could there ever be a woman hanging naked by her wrists who was not beautiful? Antoine doubted it.
Marcel strode to a few feet in front of the three hanging captives. "Three members of a German intelligence unit. I believe you call yourselves the female unit, at least that's what the papers we found on you say. Which doesn't explain you." He used a long riding crop he was holding to prod at Walter's flaccid penis.
"Not three captives from the intelligence unit." The female voice came from the other side of the room, near the entrance. "Four."
All four soldiers turned toward the voice. A woman entered.
"This one," the woman walked over to Anna, still chained on the rack, "is also a member of the German's female intelligence unit."
"I thought she was a French Resistance captive they were torturing for information," Pierre responded.
"No," the woman continued. "She is one of their own whom they foolishly suspected was a French spy. Isn't that right, Anna?"
Anna closed her eyes, but offered no response.
"When in fact, the real spy in their group was ... who was the real spy, Anna?"
"You, fucking Christine. It was you," Anna answered resignedly. "I tried to warn them." [see Christine Pic]
Christine laughed, and walked to Marcel, who was still standing in front of the three hanging captives. "Don't you wish you'd listened to her? Instead of to me?" Christine ran her hands briefly over each of their naked bodies as she strode past them. "It looks like we have a lot of work to do. But we have as much time as we need, don't we? And a lot of potential resources."
Christine stopped in front of Walter. "This one is the wildcard." Christine pulled out of her pocket a long white string and tied one end tightly around the base of his testicles. "The simplest of things can work wonders on the tongue." Holding the other end of the string, she slowly moved farther from him until the string was taut. She took one more step and Walter screamed. "This should give you a chance to think of what you're going to tell me in a few minutes." Christine knelt and tied the string through a metal hook in the floor, further tightening it around Walter's testicles. [see Walter Pic] "I'm pretty sure I know what you don't know, since you weren't active in the unit." Walter tried to control his screams. "What I don't know is what you do know." She walked back to Walter and squeezed his testicles, forcing him again to scream. "Well, you may not have been an active member of the female unit. But you certainly scream like a woman." Christine squeezed harder and Walter screamed louder. "I'll get back to you when I'm through with your friends." She released her grip.
"You don't mind if I lead the interrogation, do you?" The four soldiers had been so quiet as they watched Christine's performance that she had almost forgotten they were there.
"Not at all," Marcel answered. "You certainly know them better than we do. What they know. What they might know."
"As I said, Walter here is the wildcard. I think he knows about a lot of the other intelligence units." Walter's body shook uncontrollably at the mention of his name. "But as for these other two," Christine grabbed Hilda's chin between the fingers of her left hand, "they know nothing that I do not already know. Same for that other one over there." She nodded in Anna's direction. "So they are all worthless to us as far as providing us with any useful information."
"I see," Marcel responded. "So what do you suggest we do with them?"
"Three choices, I think. Kill them. Rape them and then kill them. Or rape them and keep raping them." Christine had moved over to Marta and squeezed her right nipple. Marta grimaced, then spit in Christine's face. Christine smiled, licked the saliva with her tongue, took a step back and kicked Marta hard between her legs. Marta immediately started to gag and vomited on the floor in front of her. Christine moved closer and grabbed Marta by the hair. "I think this one just asked to be raped. Any takers?"
"She's the leader, right?" Marcel asked. "And I'm the leader. So I guess she's mine."
Antoine immediately moved in front of Hilda. "I like this one."
"I guess you're mine," Pierre was already standing next to the table holding Anna.
Christine looked at Gerard. "I guess that means you get him. I hope that's all right with you."
Gerard shook his head. "No, thanks. I'll leave him to you. I can wait until later for one of the others."
"Suit yourself." Christine walked over to the table in the corner of the room and picked up the longest and thickest hard rubber strap-on dildo she could find, then four ball gags. She tossed one of the ball gags to each of the three men, who were excitedly removing their pants. Then she moved back and held up the dildo in front of Walter's face. "Ever had anything like this?" Walter stared at her but said nothing. His breathing was still shallow and fast. Christine pinched his nose and forced his mouth open. She inserted the gag and strapped it behind his head. "Would hate for you to try to bite anything."
By the time Christine walked behind Walter, Antoine, Marcel and Pierre were already at work. Antoine and Marcel had each raised their woman's legs off the floor and moved between them. Both Hilda and Marta closed their eyes and grit their teeth as they felt themselves violently entered. Antoine pulled Hilda's legs toward him to allow himself to penetrate her more deeply. Marcel held Marta's legs in place as he thrust his hips toward her back. In both cases the repeated sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room.
Pierre's body was spread-eagled directly above Anna's, as Walter's had been not too long before. His hands grabbed her hands and he kissed the side of her neck. Anna's protests gurgled through the ball gag. Gerard's eyes darted from one woman to the next and the next and then back again.
"I guess it's our turn, Walter. I hope you're ready." Christine strapped on the dildo and moved its tip against the opening to Walter's anus.
"Fuck you, Christine. Just fuck you." Walter showed more courage than he had before.
"Actually, Walter," Christine forced the first few inches of the dildo into his anus. "it is I who is going to fuck you. Unless you care to start telling us about all the other German intelligence units that you worked with." Walter bit his lip and said nothing.
"You can save yourself and your friends here." Christine improved her offer to him, but he shook his head and remained silent.
"Very well. In a few minutes you will find yourself accepting a less generous offer. But that's your decision. As for now ..." Christine locked her arms around Walter's waist and pushed the dildo deeply into him. He let out a loud grunt, followed by a louder scream.
"This one will remain hard a lot longer than any of those other ones," she warned him. She lowered her hands to Walter's tightly tied penis and scrotum and squeezed, then pulled Walter's body back toward her, both deepening the violation of his anus by the dildo and stretching his scrotum farther. Instantly, Walter was screaming once more. "Like a woman again," Christine taunted. The three men continued to pound into their female captives, their pace now quickening.
"Goddamn you ... uhhhh .. uhhh .... Walter," Hilda screamed at him. "God ... uhhhhh ... fucking ... uhhh ... uhhh ....damn you." Hilda could not get out more than a few words in between Antoine's thrusts into her.
Marcel was already pumping into Marta faster and more deeply. Such a .... beautiful .... woman ... all ... his ... He wanted to hold back, but his body would not let him, and, with one final thrust, he held himself inside her as long as he could, before withdrawing and taking a step back to look at her face. She gulped in three breaths and then spit toward him, but he was standing too far away from her for her to reach her target.
Pierre was more deliberate. He wrapped his arms wrapped around Anna's neck. he pressed his his upper body against hers and moved his legs between hers. He used his arms to press down on her shoulders and moved his mouth down to her neck. He was busily enjoying himself when he heard Antoine's grunts that told him that Antoine too would soon be finished. He sighed, knowing that the others did not care about his own pleasure and would not want to wait for him, so he began to push into Anna's helpless form with more urgency. Still, as he reached his own climax, he heard her let out an involuntary squeal of pleasure.
Christine had stopped to watch the three men. When she saw that they had finished with the three women captives, she again reached around Walter's stomach and pushed the hard rubber as far into his anus as she could. Then she unstrapped herself, leaving the dildo inside him.
"Nooooo !!" Walter screamed. "Get that thing out of me !! Let them go. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Whatever you want." Walter finally realized that, with the German army near destruction, he really had no information that could harm his country further."
"Sorry, Walter. I warned you. It doesn't work like that now. Here's the new offer." Christine moved to stand in front of him again, and wrapped her hands around the taut string tied to his scrotum. "Refuse to tell us about the other intelligence units and we will shove pistols up all three of your friends' vaginas and blow out their insides." Marta raised her head slowly. Gruesome, but at least it would be a relatively quick death. Christine continued. "Agree to tell us, and we will only do that to one of them. We will show mercy on another by a bullet to the back of her head. And we will let the third live at least until we hear all you have to say. Tell us everything you know, and we will let the third one live. You have ten seconds to make up your mind."
Walter did not need ten seconds. "I will tell you. I agree to tell you. Now get that thing out of me !!"
"Wise decision," Christine responded, making no effort to comply with Walter's request. "But it does create a little dilemma for us. Which one gets which treatment? Walter, you saved one life, at least temporarily, and you saved another from a gruesome death. You choose."
Walter shook his head. "I can't."
"Then I guess -- unless we get one of the three to volunteer her vagina -- we'll have to treat all of them equally in one way or another. We can't play favorites." Christine responded to Walter. "One more chance for you to choose."
"Do it. I volunteer." Marta's voice was soft but clearly audible. She gathered her strength and spread her legs.
"No, I volunteer. Me." Hilda's voice was a bit stronger, and only a second behind Marta's. She looked toward Marta, and, following her lead, spread her legs. Both women now hung stretched by their wrists, their legs spread in the air.
"Now how do we decide?" Christine asked.
"I know how," Marcel, who had remained standing in front of Marta, pulled his pistol out of his belt, and, in one quick motion, thrust its barrel up into Marta's vagina, the one that his penis had only recently vacated. He looked into Marta's eyes and she stared back at him. He pulled the trigger.
Marta's eyes quickly widened, stunned that he had acted so fast. In a second, the bullet tore into her body, which immediately reddened. She opened her mouth, whether to try to say something or not Marcel could not be sure. But all that escaped was a line of blood that dripped down her chin, confirming the bleeding from her lungs. Her legs fell together, still not reaching the floor, her body in a straight line. She held her head up for a few more seconds before it collapsed to her chest, her eyes closed, the blood running down her legs.
Walter and Hilda both screamed when they heard the shot. Hilda dropped her legs straight down. She and Walter continued screaming, joined by Anna, as they saw Marta's head slump to her chest. By then, Marcel had walked past Walter to Hilda. He pushed the gun's barrel between her legs and into her vagina. Hilda saw the look in his eyes and took in a deep breath. Before she could let it out in a scream, Marcel again pulled the trigger.
Hilda's body lurched and stiffened. Her mouth opened and a gurgling noise escaped her lips as the blood streamed out. In a few seconds her head fell back, her eyes still open, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
Marcel moved back in front of Walter. "Now, you see what your indecision has done. It has cost you the lives of two of your three friends. Shall I do the third?"
"No, please," Walter begged. "I told you. I will tell you whatever you want. Just ask. I will tell you. Just one thing that I ask in return ..."
"As you can see, Walter," Marcel tugged at the string pulling his scrotum, "you are in no position to bargain." As if Walter needed reminding after seeing what Marcel had just done to Marta and Hilda.
"Just turn me over to the Americans. To the Americans. Not to the Russians. That's all I ask."
"Agreed." The voice was not Marcel's. Or any of the Frenchmen in the room. It came from near the doorway. And it belonged to Colonel Johnson. The Americans had arrived. As Walter had hoped. He stopped screaming. "You certainly have a convincing way about you." Johnson looked at Marcel. "I've been watching you the last five minutes. I didn't expect what happened . Either time. Or I might have stopped you." Johnson moved away from the door and a handful of American soldiers entered the room. Several moved toward Walter, while the others scattered about the room.
"We know about this one," Johnson slowly walked up to Walter's hanging and stretched body. "He's a liaison for several of the German intelligence units." Johnson took a long knife out of its scabbard on his belt. "A bad man." He raised the knife and brought it down sharply. Walter screamed. The knife cut the white string, freeing his scrotum that the severe pull on it. Walter sighed in relief. One of the soldiers pulled the hard rubber dildo out of his anus, bringing an even louder sigh from his lips. Two of Johnson's soldiers released his wrists from their cuffs. "I'm taking him for questioning." The two soldiers pulled Walter out of the room.
"Who is this one?" Johnson nodded at Anna's naked spread-eagled figure.
"The Germans thought she was a French spy. But she wasn't." Pierre told Johnson.
"So both sides wanted to torture her for information. Not a good situation for you, was it?" Johnson stood over Anna. Anna stared up at him, but said nothing. She had not claimed to the French to have been their informant when they came into the room, fearing that they would soon be overrun by the Germans. Now it was too late. Her breathing quickened. "Take her to the prison camp. She is a captured enemy for now and will be treated as such. If we learn that she committed war crimes, we will deal with her more harshly." Two of Johnson's men immediately released Anna from her bonds and dragged her off the table and out of the room.
Johnson turned to Christine. "And what about this one?"
"She was the real spy for the Allies. But they never accused her. They accused the wrong one." Pierre continued to fill Johnson in on what they had learned.
"And how do you know that?" Johnson asked.
"She sabotaged the last three operations of her female intelligence unit. All of its missions failed because of her."
"How brave and helpful of you," Johnson smiled at Christine.
"Thank you, sir. It was all I could do for my country." Christine nodded modestly at him.
"So you acted as a member of the female intelligence unit?"
"Very interesting." Several more of Johnson's men had joined him by the door. "Marcel. It's Marcel, isn't it?" Marcel nodded. "Marcel, the Allies broke the German code more than a year ago. That is the reason that we knew about the last three missions of the female intelligence unit. We knew about many more before that, but we were afraid that, if we interfered with those, the Germans might figure out that we had broken the code and change it. So we waited until these last three, when it really made no difference any more if they figured it out. That is why their last three missions failed. Not because we had a spy in the unit. We had no spy there." Johnson turned and left the room followed by his men.
Stunned, Christine tried to follow them out, but the Frenchmen blocked and closed the door, then fell on her as a group, forcing her to the ground. Quickly they tore at her blouse and pants, ripping them off her. And then at her panties and bra. Within just a few seconds, Christine was naked. The men rose to form a small circle around her. Christine lay on the floor, trying to cover her body with her hands and arms. Gaining her courage, she slowly rose to her feet, dropped her hands to her sides and turned her palms outward, in defiance.
Immediately, one of the men moved to the center of the circle and punched Christine hard in her stomach. As she doubled over, he pushed her across the circle toward another of the men, who kicked her between her legs and then pushed her across to another. For five full minutes the men continued the routine. Punching and kicking the naked and helpless Christine. In the stomach. Across the face. Between her legs. At her breasts. Finally, once again in the middle of the circle, Christine slowly sank to her knees. With one more kick to her back, she sprawled on the floor on her stomach, her arms at the sides of her head, her legs straight out and apart.
Gerard walked up to Christine's sprawled body, and, with the toe of his boot, pushed under her stomach and rolled her body onto its back. Her limbs remained spreadeagled and she remained unconscious. He looked at Marcel. "Everyone else had a turn. Now it's my turn." It was not a question, but a statement.
Gerard unzipped his trousers and moved his body on top of Christine's. With his right hand, he positioned his already erect penis at its target and pushed it deep into her vagina, grabbing her outstretched hands in his own, his head next to hers. He turned to stare at her closed eyes and then thrust hard, watching her chin jolt upward. The second time he heard a groan of pain. Smiling, he began to thrust regularly into her until her eyes opened and her face turned all around the room, looking up at the men's faces staring down at her. But she was too weak to resist.
Then Gerard suddenly stopped and pulled himself out of her, his penis still hard. "This double traitor does not deserve my sperm inside her." On his hands and knees, he moved around Christine until he was kneeling by her head. With his left hand he pulled her hair to force her to stare at him. With his right hand, he gripped his penis, rubbed it several times and pointed it directly at her as it shot its liquid at her in several long spurts. Gerard made sure to move himself around enough to hit her in the mouth, nose, cheeks and chin. As his penis softened, he held up Christine's face and stared at his handiwork for a few more seconds before releasing her hair and letting her sperm-soaked face fall back to the floor. "No. My fluids are for your humiliation, not your pleasure." Gerard slowly rose and put his penis back into his pants. "To show to everyone your complete defeat." He zipped his pants with a "mission accomplished" flourish.
"String her up over there." Marcel nodded at the chains hanging between the bodies of Marta and Hilda, now vacated by Walter's absence. The others quickly obliged, and Christine -- naked except for the sperm sticking to her face and hair -- found herself spread-eagled in front of the Frenchmen.
"So what do we do with you?" Marcel stood a few feet in front of her. "When you thought the Germans would win the war, you joined its female intelligence unit. And when the missions began to fail, and the unit looked for a scapegoat, you pointed the finger away from yourself." Marcel held her chin up with his right hand and looked into her eyes. "Then, when you realized the war was lost, you decided that, since there appeared to be a mole in your unit, you would be that mole. That all the others denied that they were made it even easier to claim that role. The Allied units that liberated the town were not likely to be the same ones who knew who the mole in your unit was. By the time they figured out it wasn't you, you -- a hero to them -- would have escaped. How am I doing so far?"
Christine's eyes grew cold. "The war was lost. We all knew it. We all knew that it was everyone for herself. I did nothing other than fight for my country and then try to save myself. It's what we all did. I am a prisoner of war like all the others who did nothing worse than that. Like you would be if our side had won."
"Funny." Marcel turned and walked slowly away as he continued. "I see it a bit differently." Christine could see that both Pierre and Gerard had gone to the table in the far corner of the room and picked up ... those were torches !! Which they were now lighting. Christine screamed and pulled at her bonds as hard as she could, twisting her body to add force against them.
"What I see," Marcel turned back to Christine, "is a spy who posed as a French resistance fighter when we entered the room and continued to pose as one until her betrayal was uncovered." Pierre and Gerard, their torches now lit and flaming, stood a foot feet from her, one on each side, while Antoine moved to stand next to Marcel and watch.
"I'm not a spy. I was never a spy."
"What would you call a German operative who told French soldiers that she was a French spy. I would call her a German spy. What would you boys call her?"
"Spy !!" "German spy !!" The responses of the others was quick and unanimous.
"And is the punishment for German spies the same as for German soldiers?"
Four "nos" rang out in unison.
"What is the punishment for German spies?"
"I have the same rights as a prisoner of war!!" Christine shouted hopelessly at them before they could answer.
"No," Marcel shouted at her. "You have the rights of a captured spy. Which are no rights at all."
He looked at Pierre, then at Gerard, and nodded.
Pierre moved his torch to the back of Christine's calves, not close enough for the flame to engulf them, but close enough that they turned pink in a few seconds, as Christine let out a hideous scream. Then Pierre slowly moved the torch up to the back of her thighs, to her ass and to her back. As he stepped away, blisters began to form up and down the back of Christine's body, her screams broken only by her need to refill her lungs. She pulled desperately at the bonds holding her limbs her wrists and ankles chafing as the chains rattled.
After only a few seconds respite, Gerard moved his torch to the front of Christine's lower legs and began the process on the front side of her body. Up her legs to where they met, lingering for a few extra seconds as the triangle of hair burned completely, then continuing to her stomach and breasts, making sure to move the torch side to side so as not to play favorites. Christine's screams were now incomprehensible grunts, sounds of pure pain and nothing more. After watching each of her nipples singe, Gerard stepped away. Christine continued to shriek.
"Who will show this creature mercy and end her torment?" Marcel pulled out his revolver from his belt. The three other men remained silent. "Very well," Marcel looked at them. "You many leave." The men each moved to the door and turned to look at the body shaking uncontrollably in the center of the room, only harsh guttural sounds now escaping its lips. The men walked out of the room.
Marcel stared for a moment longer at the chained, screaming, naked figure before him. He walked to the table in the corner of the room, and, after a few moments, moved away from it, holding a rectangular piece of cardboard. Giving one more glance at Christine, whose head now hung down to her chest, her throat silent, her body still shaking, Marcel walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
He attached the cardboard to the outside of the door. On it, he had written: "Captured double agent inside." No matter which side might next find Christine, it would feel that she had deserved her hideous punishment. But, in the meantime, she would suffer until her dying breath -- a fate he thought a woman deserved who would betray either side to try to save herself.
Marcel turned and hurried to catch up with his men.