
                              OFFICER2.TXT -- 2/4

                          Standard disclaimers apply.

                            AN OFFICER AND HIS WOMEN
                                       By
                             an218244@anon.penet.fi

                                   * * * * *

                                  Part 2 of 4:
                        The Conquering Hero and his Prey

                                   * * * * *

It was April, 1945. Hitler's decimated army was in disarray and was fast
retreating. The victorious forces of Britain and Russia would meet in Berlin in
only a few more weeks.

My battalion met with little organized resistance as we marched westward from
the Polish frontier. My orders were to disarm all Germans I came upon and do my
best to destroy the morale of the people, in an effort to hasten the surrender
of the Axis. My superiors had given me free rein as to how to accomplish my
mission, and I had some ideas of my own. The only restriction was that
civilians were not to be killed.

Whenever we came to a new community, the first order of business, of course,
was to overcome whatever few soldiers and armed citizens dared to fire at us.
After this was done, we rounded up the Germans and showed them who was boss. We
had suffered in our homeland for four years, and it was time to give them a
taste of their own medicine. Our usual routine was to castrate several hundred
of the men, and distribute the girls to our own soldiers as a reward for their
work. Now, no one was to be killed, so I couldn't let the men rape anyone they
chose -- the most desirable women would be used beyond what they could bear and
the common women would not suffer at all.

My solution was to assemble several hundred women, usually between 15 and 25
years of age, in the town square and take the afternoon apportioning them among
the men. The highest-ranking officers usually selected a woman for their
personal use, while the lieutenants selected two or three of the less desirable
women for their company to share.

When we marched into Rostock on April 29 and began making preparations for the
afternoon's festivities, two young ladies attracted my attention, for two
different reasons. The first was Liesl, slender and only 5'2", probably
weighing in at barely over 100 pounds. As I saw her working in one of the farms
beside the road as we entered town, something about her pulled at my heart.
Maybe it was the smoothness of her thin legs and the way her coarse knee-length
skirt clung to them. Maybe it was the gentle swell of her tiny breasts under
her simple white blouse. Or maybe it was her golden-brown hair, curled thickly
about her neck and ending at her shoulders. I desperately wanted her to be
mine.

Anna, of course, was the other woman who caught my eye. Despite the chaos
around her, she was sitting calmly on the porch of one of the town's larger
homes when one of my sergeants apprehended her and ordered her to follow him to
the town square. She was taller -- maybe 5'5" -- and somewhat overweight. It
was something of a rarity to see a plump young woman in the Germany of 1945.
Her long brown hair cascaded onto her back in a loose braid. She also wore
pants, fitting quite snugly about her hips, which were made of softer, higher
quality fabric than the clothing of most people in the district. She was used
to living well and having things her way. I was suspicious that she was
something of a spoiled brat, and would be good for some fun when her turn came.
When the women were lined up, I made sure that she was placed early in the
lineup, immediately before Liesl.

The afternoon got off to a routine start. Most of the girls were rather plain
and wound up going to the enlisted men. I ordered two or three of the bustier
ones to remove their blouses so we could get a look at them before I gave them
away. The girl before Anna came forward, a plain-Jane type wearing a skirt held
in place by a belt around her waist. "Remove your belt and give it to me!" I
ordered. As I expected, her skirt fell to the ground as she did so. I swatted
her good and hard across the ass with her belt, causing the pathetic girl to
run forward whimpering, into the arms of a lieutenant with a big smile and a
bigger bulge in his uniform.

Anna was next. She stepped forward and glared defiantly at me. I placed my hand
on her left hip. While rubbing her butt gently, I ordered her to strip. She
refused indignantly, spat on my arm, and shouted, "Take your hand off me! Don't
you dare undress me!" I smirked. I had guessed right. A good time would be had
by all, except Anna. I strode to a cart that one of the farmers had abandoned
in the square when we arrived and picked up the horsewhip sitting beside the
driver's seat.

I stood behind Anna. "OK, Miss Anna, have it your way. I won't touch the snaps
on your pants." I held the leather rope in my hand and massaged her ass with it
gently and slowly. "Anna, do you know what happens when your ass and a strip of
rawhide collide at 500 miles an hour? I'll tell you, baby. Your ass loses!"

I passed the whip to my muscular aide-de-camp, whom we all referred to as the
Whipmaster because of his energy-intensive but pleasurable function in our
nightly gatherings. I told him, "This woman must be taught a lesson. Whip her
pants off!"

As he knew, I meant the order quite literally. The first stroke wrapped around
the fullest part of her ass, making a crisp snapping sound and neatly splitting
the cloth covering her skin. She gasped and staggered forward. I warned her to
hold still. The whipmaster stood behind her and swung again. This stroke landed
on her left hip, the tip of the whip reaching around to the top of her crotch.
A second loud crack split the air, and she emitted a satisfying sound halfway
between a grunt and a scream as more clothing was torn and much of her left ass
cheek became exposed. The third cut wrapped around her right side the same way,
completing the necessary task. The fabric of her pants had been ripped all the
way around, Anna had felt the sting of the lash for the first time, and the
evening was just beginning.

I came up behind her and reached between her legs, grasping the soft fabric in
my hand. One quick tug and her pants, hanging by a thread, tore loose and fell
from her body, leaving her nearly naked from the waist down. I stepped back,
and the whipmaster applied a fourth, gentler stroke, landing it squarely in the
middle of her butt. This parted her panties, as well as eliciting a short
scream and raising a small red welt across her ass. I reached between her legs
again, fondling her pussy, and she howled and flinched. "Bend over, Nazi
bitch!" She refused vehemently again. This was going to be more fun than I had
thought.

"All right. We'll do it your way again. No one will touch your body to make you
bend over." We had a more effective method. Three of the men responsible for
the castrations came forward, each carrying one of the glowing irons we used to
destroy men's testicles. Anna felt the heat from them. I ordered one man to
hold his iron behind her ankles and keep it there. A second man held one behind
her neck, and a third stepped in front of her and slowly moved it forward,
toward her crotch.

Trembling, Anna could feel the heat from them and knew what my plan was. The
irons at her neck and crotch came closer, and the only way to avoid a branding
was to lean over, bowing her head and presenting her round, slightly reddened
buttocks to me. When she was bent double, the men with the irons were
dismissed. I stepped close behind her, ran my hand over her body, and felt
between her legs. As I suspected, her hole had never been opened. As my men
cheered, I pulled down my zipper and prepared to use my favorite weapon of war
on my helpless prisoner.

"Why bother with foreplay?" I thought. "She is your slave, there are many more
women yet to come." I was ready, so I placed my dick between her full pussy
lips. I slowly pushed forward, urged on by the cheers from the Russians and the
whimpers of the woman bent double before me. I was rewarded with a loud, long
shriek as her cherry popped and I sank in.

This woman still had fight left in her. "Don't you dare come inside me and make
me pregnant! Stop at once!" I very slowly pushed into her and pulled out again
three times as I mulled this over. Well, Liesl was the woman I wanted anyway.
"OK, Anna, have it your way again. But you should know by now that every time
you argue with me, you suffer more than you had to. Brace yourself."

I pulled out of her, grasped each hip firmly, and threw her to the ground. She
was spread out flat, face down. I called to the whipmaster, "give her what she
deserves. Slice her to ribbons!" Two soldiers came forward and tore off her
shirt. The whipmaster lifted his arm high, lunged at her, and landed the lash
low, where the ass and thighs meet. As he pulled it back, Anna's body tensed,
and the crimson tint of blood appeared on her backside. The next stroke landed
on the narrow band of cloth left around her waist, shredding it and cutting
into her skin. A dozen more strokes, just like this one, fell on her butt,
leaving deep horizontal furrows in it. Anna was writhing in pain, gasping, too
overcome by the shock to cry. Next, the whipmaster struck the backs of her
thighs, not far above the knee. After four cuts to her legs and six to her
lower back, he paused. He moved to a new position, some eight feet in front of
her head. She looked up and saw him leering at her, whip upraised. She
screamed, covered her face, and put her head back down. The lash ran from the
middle of her back to the right knee, cutting across all the previous marks.
Another stroke landed in a similar spot on her left side.

There was a brief pause before the finale. The whipmaster leaned back, and
swung the whip one final time. The rawhide landed just to one side of the crack
of her butt. The tip vanished from sight between her legs, but her convulsive
jerk and bloodcurdling scream made it clear to everyone that the whipmaster had
found his mark. He turned and went off to rinse the blood from the whip. Three
men dragged Anna off, to do who knows what to her.

I turned my attention to Liesl. "Miss, I find you attractive. If you will
behave yourself, I should like to make you my personal servant." My scheme had
paid off. Liesl and the other women learned from what they saw. Before the
sentence was out of my mouth, she had dropped her skirt and her trembling hands
hastened to raise her blouse. Her charms were to my liking. I gave her my hand,
and she retired with me to my tent.

