Bob Morgan is an American undercover agent working with the Dutch underground. He has been working with two sisters and they have been seized by the Nazis.
A command car drove Morgan and the girls to the Haaren Prison. Here they were separated. The American was put into an empty cell. He assumed Claire and Christine were in other cells.
An hour later two SS troopers came and unlocked his door. One held a Luger pointed at him. They brought him to the prison's administration office.
Morgan was jolted by what he saw. Enraged, he started to lunge toward a group of Nazis who had forced Claire to her knees. He was stopped by the threat of the Luger blowing his head off.
The golden-haired girl's clothes were in shreds. She looked as though she had been thoroughly worked over. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and there were angry discolored marks where she had been punched and slapped. Morgan turned and saw what they had done to Christine. She dangled from a pulley arrangement against a wall. She had been stripped naked. There were dark bruises on her breasts and hips.
Morgan growled, "Let them go. They had nothing to do with it."
"Ah, but no," Kraskrug said. "They are important. You will see." He leaned back in his chair and began to laugh. "How stupid you have been! All of you!" he gloated. "Do you want to know what England has given us?" He ticked the items off on his fingers, the weapons and money. "And the fifty agents you sent are all dead, of course. As you will be. And her," he said, pointing to Claire. "And this one." He ran his hand up Christine's leg. She tried to squirm away. Her body twisted futilely at the end of her tether. She groaned and kicked her bare feet feebly when Kraskrug's fingers probed her sex. He slammed his riding crop against her thigh. She threw her head back and cried out in pain. Her body went rigid.
Kraskrug stood up and moved around the desk, idly swinging the crop. "What I want you to do," he said to Morgan, "is to send a message to your S.O.E. saying that everything is fine here."
"Like hell I will."
The colonel snorted, "I thought so." He walked over to Christine, grabbed her ankles and pulled her body away from the wall. "We had the same trouble with one of your chaps – I believe his name was Hans Wers. Very stubborn." He lifted Christine high. "But I knew his weakness. His wife."
He let go of Christine's ankles. The girl's body swung toward the cement wall and slammed into it with a sickening crunch. Christine screamed out her agony. Claire struggled against her captors. Morgan started for the colonel but two Krauts moved in front of him.
"I can keep this up all night," Kraskrug sneered. He lifted Christine again. She screamed, "No...no...please..."
This time he twisted her so her back hit the wall. Her whole body shuddered. Then her head fell forward as unconsciousness enveloped her.
Kraskrug looked at Morgan. "Yes?"
The American didn't answer.
"Perhaps it's this one then," Kraskrug said, striding toward Claire.
She shrank away from him. He grabbed her and jerked her close to him. His hands moved over her body, ripping away the shreds of material that hung on her until she was stark naked. She fought him. Her fingernails came up to rake his face. He slapped her so viciously that she dropped to her knees in a daze.
Two soldiers lifted her and held her arms behind her back. Kraskrug ran his hand slowly over her breasts, then down her stomach and between her thighs, exploring her body at will while she writhed in the grip of his flunkies. "She's soft, isn't she?" he said to Morgan. "But I'm sure you know that." He nodded to his men. Claire was dropped to the floor.
She lay on her back, still dazed from the slap. The colonel walked around her striking the crop against his jackboot. He used the toe of his boot to spread her thighs. "Have you ever seen multiple rape, my friend?"
The muscles in Morgan's jaw worked furiously. He'd had enough. "Okay you bastard. On the condition you leave the girls alone."
Kraskrug smiled. "Of course. All I want is your cooperation."
Morgan gave him what he wanted, silently cursing his weakness. He had just signed the death warrant for three agents scheduled to be dropped into Holland the following week. Claire and Christine would not have wanted him to cooperate with the Nazis. If they had been conscious they would have pleaded with him to keep silent, no matter what tortures they were faced with. But none of it mattered now. He had ended their torment. For the moment, that was all that mattered.
A moment later Kraskrug brought the riding crop down on Morgan's neck. Then three Krauts jumped him and beat him to the floor, kicking him brutally while he lay curled on the floor. He heard the Nazi officer shriek, "Get them out of here! Get them out of my sight!"
Morgan was dimly aware of being dragged back to his cell. The door clanked shut. Claire was thrown into a cell opposite his. Both had recovered from their visit with Kraskrug, but now a new torment gripped them.
Christine's screams echoed through the corridors of the prison.
Her sister tried to blot out the sound by covering her ears. She jumped every time Christine screamed, or cried out after a moment's silence, "No...don't...please don't..." Claire sat spraddle-legged in her cell, oblivious of her nudity, sobbing uncontrollably.
Morgan stood at the bars, gripping them until his knuckles were white. He'd accomplished nothing by giving in to the Nazi. It was obvious now that Kraskrug intended to deny them the indulgence of a quick death.
Christine's screams became shrieks of agony. The slap of leather against flesh could be heard. It came again and again. Then there was silence. Morgan was able to determine from what the Krauts were saying that Christine's tormented body was being gang raped.
Morgan looked into Claire's cell. Her hands were clasped in front of her and her lips formed the words of a prayer. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Once or twice sobs gushed from her throat and she buried her face in her hands.
Right now all her thoughts were on her sister screaming under Nazi torture. But she would be next. Morgan knew the Nazi had some special tortures lined up for her as well. Kraskrug would make her endure every depravity before he was finished with her. Kraskrug would draw out Claire's ordeal because of him. That would be his revenge on the American.
He turned away from Claire. He couldn't bear the sight of her beautiful naked body. Soon enough that gentle nudity would be bound helplessly before Kraskrug. He would make Morgan watch as he used his diabolical instruments on her soft breasts; make him listen to her scream in agony and beg for mercy as he worked between her thighs, slowly torturing her sex. Morgan's eyes filled with tears.
He heard footsteps approaching. Two Krauts held Christine's wrists and were dragging her limp figure on the floor. They let her go when she was between Morgan's and Claire's cells. The Nazis turned and marched back down the hall without a word.
She lay on her back, naked, her legs spread. Her body was covered with lacerations and red welts. A rivulet of blood running out of her mouth and down to her throat had dried a dark red. More blood was caked between her open thighs. It was obvious the Nazis hadn't been satisfied with raping her but had tortured her vagina horribly as well. Morgan couldn't help wondering if they had savaged her pussy before or after they had raped her.
Her eyes were open. They stared vaguely at the ceiling. Her breath came in short irregular gasps. She was more dead than alive.
Her sister came to the cell door. There was a moment when she seemed not to comprehend what she saw. Then her mouth opened in a scream of horror. She gripped the bars and kept screaming. Her knees weakened. She slid down the bars. Then kneeling, she tried to stretch one arm out far enough to touch her sister.
Christine turned her head toward her sister, then mustering what was left of her strength reached her arm toward Claire. Their eyes met and their fingers touched. Claire wept uncontrollably and Christine whispered her sister's name, wet her lips and managed to whisper it again.
They remained like that for only a few moments before Kraskrug entered the dungeon, accompanied by six soldiers.
Smiling, Kraskrug placed his foot on Christine's throat. Her hand left Claire's and pulled weakly at the unyielding boot. At the same moment two soldiers burst into her cell and dragged Claire kicking and screaming into the corridor.
They wasted no time. Claire was lifted off the floor and her back pressed against the bars of her cell. Another Nazi cuffed her wrists so that the short chain ran over a horizontal bar and around a vertical one. When they stepped away, she hung suspended six inches above the floor, her bare feet flailing the air.
Morgan was overpowered by the three Germans who stormed into his cell. A punch to the kidneys and a blow to throat left him gasping for breath as he was cuffed to the bars of his cell directly across from where Claire was being strung up by her wrists. An arm circled his throat from behind and he was quickly gagged, leaving him staring between the bars at his helpless lover hanging naked in her bonds.
But Claire was not looking at him. She had eyes only for her sister as Kraskrug painstakingly applied pressure to Christine's throat with his foot. Claire shrieked at the top of her lungs, screaming her sister's name and shouting for Kraskrug to stop. Christine clawed desperately at the boot that was slowly strangling her. Her eyes began to bulge. Her sister's screams echoed through the prison, "Christine...Oh my God Christine...Stop...For the love of God stop...I'll do anything, just stop...stop..."
A gurgle came from Christine's throat. Blood bubbled from between her lips. Then her body shuddered once and was still.
"Nooooo!" Claire screamed, "My Christine! No no no no no no." Two soldiers dragged the dead girl away. Claire's eyes followed them, still calling out her sister's name, oblivious to the two Krauts that had seized her ankles and were spreading her legs far apart.
They twisted Claire's legs and pulled her feet almost to waist height. She cried out in pain. Her ankles were lashed to two of the bars as were her thighs. Her nude body was pinned against the cage of her cell, her supple legs stretched straight, her thighs spread wide, her sex bared, her labia open.
Morgan pulled at the hand cuffs until his wrists bled. The gag stifled his wild cursing of Kraskrug. One of the Nazi's was already getting ready for the fun. He had pulled his pants down to his knees, exposing his erection, florid and throbbing.
"Oh God, not like this," Claire moaned. The Nazi's were lining up to rape her. She tore her eyes away and called out to Morgan. "Don't watch them. Please if you love me don't watch them do this to me."
Kraskrug spat an order to one of his flunkies, "If he closes his eyes, cut the lids off."
Claire shrieked "You bastard! You vile Nazi pig! You fucking bas..." Her shouts were cut off as Kraskrug shoved a large wad of cloth into her mouth.
"I can't have you screaming into my men's ears," he chuckled. "But don't worry, this is only the beginning. You will have plenty of time to scream when your torture starts."
Kraskrug didn't fuck her but the other six did, three of them twice. Two others moved into her cell so they could take her from behind, fucking her in the anus at the same time her pussy was being ravaged. For the first four she managed to stare straight ahead at Morgan as her body was pummeled and slammed into the bars. She kept her gaze steady, trying to tell him that she could take whatever they did to her. When Morgan started to cry, she shook her head angrily, We won't give them what they want. But when the fifth Nazi ravaged her rectum something inside her broke. Her head fell on her breasts and sobs racked her body.
She didn't realize it was over until Kraskrug pulled the gag from her mouth. "It wouldn't be the same if I couldn't hear you screaming for mercy," he laughed.
She lifted her head and stared across at Morgan. His knees had buckled and he was hanging from his wrists, unmindful of the pain. She could barely speak. "My darling," she groaned, "I'm sorry. I...I...I'll try not to scream."
A long table was wheeled out. On it were the instruments Kraskrug would use to torture her. She saw a pliers, a set of scalpels, serrated knives, a small acetylene torch, long needles with wooden handles. There was more, but Claire had thrown her head back and was praying for God to give her strength.
She was still staring at the ceiling, her lips moving in silent prayer when Kraskrug took her left foot in his hand. Her leg jerked involuntarily at his touch. "So pretty, this small bare foot. Such delicate toes. I think I will start here."
Claire squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to watch her own torture. But when she felt the cold metal on her little toe she stared down in fear at the pliers that had locked onto her nail.
The magnitude of the pain came as a complete surprise. Her body went stiff as he began to pull on the nail. She couldn't breathe. It seemed to take an eternity for Kraskrug to slowly drag the nail loose from her toe. Her body arched against the bars as the pain grew and grew, then collapsed as the nail came free.
She hung limply in her bonds gulping in lungfuls of air. For the briefest of moments she felt a small thrill of victory. In spite of the pain, she hadn't screamed. She looked across at Morgan. He hadn't moved. He still hung in his handcuffs, his eyes glazed.
Then quickly, reality. Kraskrug had moved to her right foot. She stared down in horror as the pliers took hold of her toenail. Her torture had just begun.
Once Kraskrug had her nail firmly in the grip of the pliers he didn't need to look down anymore. Instead he watched Claire's nude body writhing in agony, drinking in her torment. He listened to her gasping for air, grunting loudly with every exhale. He was totally engrossed in torturing the young naked beauty, especially enjoying her struggles to keep from screaming.
Kraskrug took four of her toenails this way before she passed out. She still hadn't screamed, although the sounds coming from her mouth were barely human. A pail of icy water revived her.
She awoke with a groan. The pain from her feet was atrocious, as though someone was holding her toes over burning coals. Her head lolled on her chest. She groaned again.
The Nazi lifted her chin with his index finger, then almost tenderly brushed her hair wet with sweat from her face. He reached down to the table and held a wicked looking blade in front of her. Claire did not seem to register the meaning of the gleaming steel. It was long, narrow and impossibly thin. It was razor sharp with a stiletto point.
Kraskrug drew the point across Claire's bicep. Still not comprehending, she watched a thin line of blood appear on her skin. He had barely touched her. There had been no pressure and she had felt no pain.
"No more pliers," he said, "Now I will use this to remove your toenails. Now you will really start to know what torture tastes like."
Kraskrug grasped her middle toe. Claire's eyes stared at her left foot with horror. She understood. She shook her head from side to side. Her mouth opened wide and she gasped "Oh God. Oh God no. Oh God no more," in a breathy whisper.
Suddenly she came alive. She struggled madly against the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles. Her nude body thrashed against the bars. Kraskrug pressed the flat of the blade against the tip of her toe. With all her strength she tried to pull her foot free but the Nazis' had done their work well. Her slim ankle was locked immovably to the bar. She couldn't even disturb Kraskrug's grip on her middle toe.
He slipped the blade under Claire's nail, moving it from side to side as he slowly dislodged the nail from its bed. The pain was worse than anything Claire could ever have imagined, far worse than her rape or the pulling out of other nails. She was consumed with her agony. She forgot her previous torture. She forgot Morgan. She forgot she was bound spread-eagled and naked. She forgot her sister. She forgot her vow not to scream.
Claire's screamed as she had never screamed before. She paused only to fill her lungs with air so she could scream again.
When it was over, when the nail had been pried loose from her toe, Claire collapsed in her bonds, too weak to struggle any longer. When Kraskrug took her right foot in his hand she could do nothing but weep quietly and wait for her torture to start once more.
He looked up at her. "Why?" she moaned. "Why are you doing this to me?" He said nothing but placed the stiletto against her toe. "No. Please don't." She began sobbing, "No more...please...I beg you...no more...please...please...no more..." Her voice trailed off to a whisper. Kraskrug stabbed the blade under her toe. Claire cried "No!" shuddered once and fainted.
Claire remained unconscious for more than half an hour. At first Kraskrug spent the time taunting Morgan, then had his minions beat him in the kidneys with truncheons until he passed out from the pain.
When Claire came to, he used the soldering iron on her, starting in the hollows of her underarms and finishing by fucking her naval with it. In between he carefully burned the soles of her feet, drew thin lines of fire from her ribcage to her hips and worked meticulously on the bottoms of her breasts. He was cautious, not wanting to do too much damage at this stage. After all it wasn't actually the wounds that excited him, or even Claire's pain; it was the degradation and humiliation the pain caused and his total power over her. The way he could make her scream uncontrollably. The way he could make her beg him to stop, plead for mercy, promise him anything if he would only stop torturing her.
She hadn't yet begged him to just kill her, but he knew she would. And she did. Amazingly not in their next session when he used the soldering iron on her nipples until they dissolved in a hiss of smoke, but in the one after that, the one when he started using the hot needles on the lips of her pussy – twenty in all, ten in each labium. Then came the thin heated wire. He opened her labia wide with a speculum so he could direct the white hot steel precisely. That way he could burn tiny points of the tender inner flesh of her sex and prolong her torture.
How she screamed. And begged. Begged him to stop. Begged him for mercy. And finally begged him to "Kill me! For the love of God just kill me!"
He tortured Claire continuously for 40 hours. Her only respite from his hideous devices was when he gave her time to recover some of her strength. He didn't sleep and used his "time off" to take care of paper work.
He had forgotten about Morgan, and when reminded by one of his soldiers he ordered him beaten to death, making sure Claire was conscious and watching. When he eventually garroted the poor girl he did so only because she had gone insane from the constant agony and her torture was no longer providing him with pleasure.