FOR LOVE OF FRANCE

An Entertainment in several parts by James Anderton

The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of
explicit sex.  If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, do not read any further.


Prologue:

"Francoise Chambet, Ex Model. Ex wife, and soon to be Ex Publisher."  The thoughts 
wouldn't leave her.  Here she was, two years into the war, and now the Boche have murdered her editor.  It had been bad enough when her husband Gilles had been killed at the beginning of the war, but at least he had died fighting, and had also left her his fortune and publishing business.  Life had been tough.  At first, as Nazi censorship took hold, all pretence at objectivity became futile, and Francoise had decided to give up.  Let the Boche publish their own lies.  It had been Bernard who had persuaded her otherwise.

"Run the paper for them, but use your contacts to help the Maquis" he had said.  So she did.  And now, probably by accident, she was alone.  The air raid had been precise, the old police station reduced to rubble, her Editor-Brother killed by allied bombs as he cultivated his contacts in the local Military headquarters., leaving her staring at the flickering flames wondering what on earth she should do.  Somehow she had to find a way of keeping the information flowing.

She looked sullenly around the huge room she was sitting in.  Memories of the five years she had shared with Gilles before the war came flooding back.  In her mind the room took on it's previous glamour.  She remembered how the Chateau used to be the social centre of the district.

"That's it" she thought bitterly to herself.  If society is to be run by the Germans, then I will offer them the premises from which to do it.


     ==========================================          

Part 1:

"Hierein!"  Ernst Hartmann sat behind his huge oak desk, revelling in the space afforded him in his new, if temporary office.  At One metre 80, he was not amongst the tallest of men, but he was tall enough, good looking, and exuded that indefinable authority that made people accept his orders without question.  The allies had done him a favour, wiping out much of the hierarchy and elevating him to Regional Head of the Gestapo.  From here, he would be more able to effect schemes that not only served his masters, but also allowed him to practice being one.

The young woman dressed in full military uniform stood stiffly to attention in front of the desk.  "Corporal Monika Glasneck at your service Sir" she shouted.

"At ease! Corporal."  I will call you Monika in private, you will call me Sir! Understood?"

"Yes sir".  She adjusted her stance, dropping the salute, resting both hands clasped together in the small of her back, feet slightly apart, heels closer together than toes.

"Well then, Monika, tell me about yourself"

"Yes Sir!"  Her heels clicked, despite being "At Ease".  "I am 22 years old, married, from Dresden, Sir.  I joined the Hitler Youth at 16, joined the Administrative Corps two years ago after I married.  My husband was posted to North Africa so I volunteered for special duties, and was posted here as secretary to Colonel Grauhof, Sir!"  Although not overly well developed, her chest swelled with pride as she yelled her CV.

Hartmann stood up, and walked leisurely around the desk.  He stood behind Monika, legs slightly akimbo, tapping his stick gently against his leg.  "What do you know of your assignment?"

"I am to provide secretarial services to the Colonel, but am covertly assigned to your section, Sir!  My orders are to follow your orders, Sir"

"And did they teach you to take orders, Monika?"

"Yes Sir, without questioning, Sir"

Hartmann stroked his cane against the seam of her stocking.  She stood still, not flinching as he ran it between her knees.  He tapped the cane gently between them, encouraging her to spread her stance.  She did so, immediately, unquestioningly.

"Were you not taught to put your stockings on properly? Your seams are not straight"

"Sorry, Sir", she replied, knowing full well she was being tested.  Her seams were immaculate.  They always were.

Hartmann smiled to himself.  He had been told that having a compliant obedient indoctrinated 
little bitch like this one was a perk of rank, but he never expected to get the opportunity 
to savour it so swiftly.  I can't let you out like that Monika, can I?  I will straighten 
them for you.  Bend over and place your hands on my desk".

"Yes sir".  Keeping her feet where they were, she leaned forward, extended her arms and 
leaned forward until she almost lost her balance.  She felt Hartmann's stick climb higher 
between her legs, lifting the hem of her skirt above her stocking tops.  She heard his intake 
of breath as her best silk knickers came into view.  Despite her curious situation, she felt 
strangely aroused by her position.  She could feel the juices lubricating her innards, 
and when the stick stopped its movement, withdrew, and let the hem of her regulation skirt 
fall back, she felt the sharp pang of disappointment.  Any such feeling was short-lived, 
however.  Almost immediately she felt a cool waft of air as Hartmann lifted her skirt high 
over her back, leaving her exposed to his gaze.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw him 
bend over and smooth the tops of her stockings with a gentle stroking motion of his hands.  
He stood up, moved beside her, placed one hand firmly on her bottom, leaned over mimicking 
her own stance, and whispered in her ear.

"Your knickers are wet.  Did you know?"

"Yes Sir" she stuttered whilst maintaining the Military discipline she knew was expected of 
her.  She was less sure when she felt his hand ingratiate itself into her pants, drawing them 
down around her knees.  He stood up, moving away behind her, leaving her confused but still 
strangely excited.  The stick returned!  This time higher up her inside thigh.  She shivered 
as it wormed its way into her slit, pausing when it teased her clit.  A couple of gentle 
prods was all it took to have her on the verge of orgasm, the tension unbearable.  Still it 
did not stop.  A short pause, and on it went, pushing and prodding up her crack until it 
rested gently against the bud of her arsehole.

"I think you have been well trained, Corporal Glasnek.  I look forward to taking full 
advantage."  She felt the point of the stick twist lightly in her bottom as, with a slight 
push, she felt it ease past her entrance, penetrating to the point of discomfort.  "You also 
have a nice arse, he muttered, did your husband use it?"

"No Sir"

"Then I might also enjoy introducing you to the pleasures of Sodomy."

"Thank you, sir" she replied nervously, not sure how to respond to his disdain.

She had no time to worry about it.  The rustling of his trousers as he unfastened his buttons 
was followed immediately by the soft PLOP as he withdrew his stick.  She was ready for 
anything, but still the single thrust of his enormous penis into her vagina took her by 
surprise.  She rocked forward on her hands, forced against the desk, painfully squashing 
her breasts against the cool woodwork.  She thought, fleetingly, of the gentle wooing from 
her husband that had left her so unmoved, before being overwhelmed by the crashing orgasm 
that ripped through her body as he drove relentlessly into her.  Her juices flowed.  
Copious quantities ran down the inside of her legs as he pounded on and on and on.  She had 
never experienced such pleasure in all her young life.  When his orgasm came, her own state 
of excitement was so high that she hardly noticed his dick twitching in her pussy.  She 
felt him withdraw, and leaned, exhausted as he tidied himself up, oblivious to the gooey 
mess running down her legs.

"Attention!"  The command snapped her from her reverie.  She snapped upright, clipped her 
heels, and assumed her previous military bearing.  Her skirt fell back over her bottom, 
her knickers fell to her feet.

"You have done well, Corporal!  I am sure you will serve the Fuerher well.  Report to me 
daily.  You are dismissed."

Monika's chest swelled with pride as she stepped out of her knickers, spun on her heels, 
and marched briskly out of his office, eager to do whatever the domineering officer required 
in the name of the fatherland.  Behind her, Hartmann picked up her discarded underwear and 
smiled to himself, pondering the times to come.


Part 2


Colonel Jacob Grauhof sat smiling grimly to himself behind his new desk.

Nothing had seemed to be going right.  Weeks of careful planning and persuasion had convinced the Editor of the local paper to support his programme for maintaining order, only for the damned RAF to kill him in a speculative raid on the local Police Station.  Then Himmler's puppet Hartmann had turned up, making life difficult, and accusing him of being stupid to select the Police Station as his headquarters in the first place.  Suddenly, there he was, sitting in the shabby lounge of a hurriedly appropriated Hotel, waiting to see the owner of the local paper, knowing that he had objected to Bernard's editorial stance.  It could have been a difficult day.

A soft knock on the door announced the entry of the lovely Corporal Glasneck.

"The Owner of "Le Tribune" is here to see you sir."

Grauhof felt the disdain in her voice as she swivelled on her lovely ankles and swayed back to the doorway.  He knew she was going to make him pay for his earlier clumsy attempt at seduction.  Things were definitely not going well!

His mournful reverie was interrupted. A low swishing sound and the clicking of feminine heels caused him to look up into the frank confident gaze of one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

"Colonel Grauhof!, I am Madame Chambet, Owner of Le Tribune.  I believe you wished to see me".



Part 3


The room was cold and dank.  The girl stood in the middle, between two soldiers.  No-one had said anything to her since they had picked her up outside the farm three hours or more ago.  They had made it sound like an invitation, but it clearly was not one she could turn down.  It had been hot then, a fine summer's evening, but now the chill in this cellar was cold on her bare arms and legs.  A light summer dress was inappropriate garb for such a place.  The bang of the door startled her as a tall German Officer strode briskly into the room.

"Good evening Fraulein Gilbert.  Isobel, isn't it?"

His smile, disarmingly warm, caused her to relax a little.  Perhaps this was routine after all.

"I have a little matter to resolve, and I am told that you are able to help me resolve it"

"If I can, I will"

"Good", he smiled again, "that is exactly what I would want...," he paused before adding "..and expect".

The veiled threat was not lost on Isobel, as she realised that this was no ordinary soldier standing before her.

"And who do I have the pleasure of addressing?" She stammered, attempting to demonstrate a confidence she did not feel.

"Herr Ernst Hauptmann, at your service, Fraulein", his heels clicked quietly as he leaned forward in a slight bow.  "I am head of the Gestapo here, and I need to find your brother".

"I expect he will be at home, by now" Isobel blurted out as the seriousness of both her and her brother Gerard's situation became clear to her.

Hauptmann closed the gap between them and raised his hand.  As he spoke, the menace in his voice grew, and he slowly drew his knuckles down her cheek until he lightly held her chin between thumb and forefinger. Isobel felt as if the room had just cooled by another five degrees, as she struggled to break his gaze.

"We both know, liebtschen, that your brother has not been home for two weeks. You and I both know he is leader of the local resistance cell, and will soon be called to account.  Isobel shook her head in apparent disbelief, as Hartmann continued, his voice dropping to a whisper as he moved his head closer and hissed into her ear.  "You, my pretty one, know where he is, and you can either tell me the easy way, or not.  Either way, you will tell me all you know."

Isobel moved to step backwards as she protested her ignorance of any such activities. She got no further than half a step before she found her two escorts closing down her retreat.  Strong arms gripped her elbows as Hartmann leered into her face.  "So, we do it the hard way, eh?"  His grip on her chin loosened, and, tracing his index finger down the length of her throat, began to gently stroke up and down her cleavage. "Please tell me, where has your brother been during the last two weeks?"

Isobel stared at him, like a frightened rabbit in a car's headlights. "I don't know", she muttered, "I don't know".

Hartmans eyes never left hers, as he repeated his question.  Whilst doing so, his fingers flipped open the top button of her dress, revealing the lacy top of her slip.  Two more repeats of the question, followed, each meeting the same response, her dress unbuttoned to the waist.  "I think you can see where this is leading, little one".  She began to struggle, but only succeeded in dislodging one shoulder of her dress, which fell down her arm revealing the lacy strap of her slip, and the swell of her breast. Hartmann's fingers continued to release her buttons until the whole of her dress flapped loosely. A slight relaxation of the escorts grip on her elbows and suddenly her dress was round her ankles, leaving her standing shivering in the cold dank air.

Isobel glanced sideways at her captors.  The look of lust in their eyes confirmed to her that even if she told Hatmann what she knew, she would never get out of here unharmed.  Her resolve stiffened, she would not betray Gerard!

Hartmann was experienced.  He had been here before, and knew that even total degradation and pain would not be enough to loosen the girls tongue.  He had seen it before, that steely look was only too familiar to him.  Fortunately, he was also experienced enough to know how to deal with it, but that could wait.  First, he and the troopers might have a little fun.  He reached out, stroking her breast through her slip, with the back of his hand.  He no longer felt the need to question the girl, telling her that he would stop when she agreed to co-operate was enough.  He knew she was probably cold, but the shivering was definitely fear induced.  All the better!.  A quick tug on the front of her slip was enough to leave her standing in her knickers and stockings, her breasts firm and well formed, her nipples standing out erect in the chill of the cellar.

Isobel knew there was no turning back, but even she did not expect the next move.  Hartmann's hand returned to her breast. "Please", he said gently, "kneel down"!  She ignored him, looking him straight in the eye with a defiant stare.  His fingers began to gently roll her left nipple, stimulating it until it began to tingle. "Please", he repeated, his eyes never leaving hers, "kneel down".  She continued to ignore him as the grip of his fingers tightened. Swiftly what had been irritating became painful, until his fingers were tightly squeezing her tender flesh. Tears began welling in her eyes as she felt her resolve weakening.  His grip changed slightly, still squeezing hard, he began to pull downwards, extending her nipple before dragging her slowly to the floor as she submitted to the pain.

"Good", he whispered, still maintaining the incongruously placid tone of voice. "I see you are beginning to understand". " Please open your mouth".  She looked quizzically at him, not really understanding what he meant.  "Come on now, don't disappoint me again"!  She parted her lips and formed a small "O". "Wider", she complied, feeling stupid kneeling here on the cold floor, her nipple burning with pain, and her mouth open for no apparent reason.  Hartmann nodded almost imperceptably at the guards holding her arms, and she felt the release her.  For a moment, she held out the hope of an end to her torment, but it was rudely shattered by the sound of belts being loosened and trousers being removed behind her.  "Keep it open"! Hartmann growled at her as she relaxed her gape, allowing her mouth to close slightly to relieve the tension in her jaw.  As he spoke, one of the guards, now naked moved to join him in front of her.  His penis, already erect, jutted in front of him as he positioned himself in front of her face.  She clamped her jaw shut, determined to resist.  Hartmanns tone didn't change.  "Please open your mouth" "you must do as I demand"

"Never", she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Then so be it!".  As he spoke, she heard the hiss of the second guards belt a split second before it struck her. The strap laid a streak of pain across the bottom of her shoulder blade, before the buckle slipped around her torso to deliver a shaft of searing agony to the underside of her right breast.  She screamed, long, and loud.  As her mouth opened her scream was cut short by the thrust of the guards penis, straight in to the back of her throat.  Her attempt to close her mouth was thwarted by the sheer size of the organ between her lips, and she almost threw up as she gagged on its length. As she surreptitiously glanced sideways, she saw Hartmann looking down on her with sardonic smile playing on his lips.  She had no time to respond however, as the guard grabbed a handfull of her hair, tilted her head back, and began to thrust in and out of her mouth. As his penis was withdrawn she attempted to expel it further and bite down. A second lash from the belt reminded her of her folly. Her scream of pain muffled by the guards organ was still loud enough to attract attention from elsewhere.

The old woman cleaner hustles her younger colleague through the door.
"Quickly girl!  Tell Gerard they have Isobel, tell him Hartmann is interrogating her, .... tell him to be careful, and get away!"



Across town, Grauhof's smile widened as he remembered first his surprise, and then his delight at the realisation that the owner was a truly beautiful woman.  His delight had been further enhanced by her request that he help her find a suitable editorial replacement.  He chuckled to himself as he remembered his telephone call to the hated Hartmann asking if he wanted to take advantage of the situation.  It was a favour he had yet to call in.

Now, here he was, installed in the most wonderful building, an office the size of a football pitch, in probably the most elegant local headquarters in the Army.  It was no surprise that General Rauenberger had decided to bring forward his visit.  If only Madam Chambet's hospitality had extended to catering for his more personal needs .-----

Part 4

The corridor was dark and cold.  Even so, Gerard Gilbert was sweating, the cold clammy sort of sweat that fear brings on.  Clutching his pistol, he followed the faint whimperings he could hear in the distance. He was surprised at the lack of guards, especially since Hartmann was supposed to be in the building. Only the Gestapo would be arrogant enough to assume that no rescue attempt would be made.  He was still looking for the trap when he found himself standing outside the cell where the noise originated.  The door was slightly ajar, and a slight push opened it enough for him to peer inside. He almost threw up at the sight that greeted him. A girl, Isobel?, was tied face down over and upturned chair.  Her rump thrust into the air, covered in blood, faeces and white sticky stuff which could only be semen. Both feet hung limply from the ends of her legs, both ankles clearly smashed.

It was all he could do to stop himself rushing into the room to comfort her, but at the critical point his sense returned as his gaze took in the rest of the room. Two German troopers, clearly drunk, sat slumped in chairs across a small table covered in playingcards. A noise behind him caused him to whirl around, finger tightening on the trigger as he found himself pushing the barrel of his pistol into the chest of his old friend Margaret the cleaner.

Holding a finger to his lips to silence her, he gesticulated to her to wait, and, taking his courage in both hands, dived into the small cell, spraying bullets from his pistol as he did so. His first two caught one of the gaurds full in the chest killing him instantly, but the second was quicker. He grabbed his machine pistol and sent an arc of fire across the room before Gerard's bullet took him between the eyes. Gerard paused, lying full length on the floor to get his breath back, and his wits together.  Gathering himself, he turned to Isobel. The guards bullets had drawn a line of small holes across her lower back. Choking back the tears, he cradled his beloved sister as the life ebbed from her body.

"He, ...He ...  He's gone to see Francoise with the General", she whispered through the pain. "he knows ............ about..... you"

Gerard stared, tears rolling silently down his cheeks as she gasped her last, horrified at the loss of his lovely sister, his grief slowly turning to rage as the meaning sunk in.  Francoise was in danger, she had to be warned.

He looked up to find Margaret staring blankly at him, and the carnage in the room.

"Please", he sobbed, "Look after her". "Please make sure she gets home." 


Part 5
Francoise was puzzled.  The phone call she had just received worried her more for what was not said, than had been.

"Be careful, Haartman and the General are on their way to see you.  Gerard will get to you as soon as he can.
She was still wondering what the message meant when she heard the roar of motor vehicles on the drive.  Within minutes, Haartman, Grauhof, and a tall distinguished-looking officer she didn't recognise, marched into the room.

"Heil Hitler!" squeaked Grauhof, clearly trying, and failing, to be at his most authoritative.
Francoise' discomfort level rose, as General Rauenberger was introduced.

"To what do we owe this honour?", Herr General" she asked, in as clear a voice as she could manage.

"I'm sorry, Madame Chambet, but I am here on official business. It has been brought to my attention that the local Maquis have gained  access to some very sensitive information, and the only common feature of the events is this Chateau, and the hospitality that goes on here".

"I do hope you're not blaming my girls, General".

"Indeed I am, Madame, and I have no intention of allowing it to continue."

Desperation clutched at Francoise' breast.  Mustering as much dignity as she could, she launched into an ill-judged display of indignance.

"How dare you"!" I lend you my house, provide you and your troops with all the comforts you need and this is the thanks I get?  You disgust me! You need me and my newspaper to keep the population under control .... Its me and my newspaper that hold the power .....". She stopped! aware that she had gone too far. As the General  turned purple with rage, Haartman closed the distance between himself and her, and cracked her with an open handed slap across the cheek. Instinctively she tried to hit him back, but his hand caught hers in mid flight. She stared at Haartman, the look in his eyes was all to familiar.  She had embarrassed him in front of his superiors, and he was livid. For a split second, she thought he would kill her on the spot, but then his expression softened.  He smiled, knowingly, but it slowly degenerated into a leer.

"Power Eh?"  "I'll show you power."

"Take off your dress!"

"Don't be silly!"

"I said take off your dress."

Francoise stared him down.  "You may force me, but you will take no pleasure from that!".

"You are quite correct, my dear".  Francoise spun round to see the General himself approaching her.  "It would only demonstrate power if you offered yourself to him."

"Cochon!" spat Francoise, mustering courage she didn't feel. I would never lower myself!"

"Ah, but you misunderstand the nature of true power, my dear". We do not need to harm you.  You will willingly do everything asked of you if I require it."
As he spoke, he rang the service bell. Instantly, Marcel the family servant appeared at his elbow.

"Yes?, herr General" 

General Rauenberger ignored him and addressed the guards on either side of the doorway.
"Take this man and shoot him!"  "Oh, and give his daughter to the troops for the night".

The colour drained from Francoise's face.

"No!, Please!, you can't do that, he has done nothing, and Justine is only 14 years old".

"Perhaps there is something that can be done, but that rather depends on you doesn't it".

Ice cold shivers ran down her back as she realised whar was in store for her. For an instant she felt she knew how a mouse felt when caught in a trap.  There was no way out, she would have to play for time and hope to think of something.

"Very well, let him go"

General Raauenberg dismissed the servant with a slow wave of his hand and walked slowly across to the most comfortable chair in the room. "Please, Gentlemen, be seated."

Hartmann and Grauhof sat at either end of the sofa, leaving the two guards standing by the door, and Francoise in the middle of the carpet.

"Close the door on your way out" Rauenberg ordered the guards, "and you madame, show us what you have to offer in exchange for your servants' lives".

Francoise stood, her legs shaking, wondering where to start.  She knew what they would do to her, but she also hoped that Gerard would be along to rescue her.  She had to make this last as long as possible before they tired of her and killed her. She raised her hand, and unfastened the top button of her dress. Haartman smiled, and gestured that he wanted more.  Slowly, she started with the next. Colonel Grauhof couldn't believe his luck.  For months he had been trying to make progress with this bitch, and now she was offering herself on a plate. The General certainly knew how to get what he wanted.


Part 6

Hartmann was getting impatient.  This teasing had to stop.

"Get on with it, or I'll bring that old fool back in here". He stood up, started pacing slowly up and down, slapping his stick against his leg.

" I think you had better do as he says", scoffed the General, "or he may decide not to let you make your offer".

"To hell with any offer, we all know why you are here, so get that dress off now!"
Francoise struggled quickly out of the frock, letting it fall in a puddle at her feet.  She stood, shivering in her chemise, wishing that she could just vanish into thin air. 

"Lets see your arse". "Turn around". 

She did so, facing the only vacant armchair in the room.  Hartmann walked past her, turned the chair around, and without ceremony pushed her over it's back.  Francoise struggled to stand back upright, his hold on the back of her neck keeping her breasts crushed against the coarse fabric.

"Tie her hands!" instructed the General, and her struggle subsided as thin ropes were attached from her wrists to each of the front feet of the chair. Although her legs were free, she could not get enough movement to change her position, and she resigned herself to her capture. 

The General moved behind her.  His hand smoothed a path over her lower back, down under her chemise, and into the waistband of her knickers.  Slowly he drew them down her legs until they nestled across her knees.
"Open your legs" he commanded".
She couldn't.  The embarrassment was too much.  The swish of Hartmanns stick was followed by streaks of fire, spreading from the cheek of her buttock through every nerve in her body.  He had not held back, and when the second one landed on her other cheek, any feeling of embarrassment was swept away on a wave of agony. Slowly she parted her legs, stretching he pants across her knees, presenting the most appetising view of her rear to the old arsebandit Rauenberg.  Tears flowed down Francoise' cheeks, more from the humiliation than the pain, but however wide she tried to spread her legs between the restraining panties, Hartmann was unmoved.  Blow after blow struck her tender behind, raising bright scarlet welts across the white, previously unblemished skin.

"Enough" I want to see her put to better use than that.  "Grauhof! See how well she sucks dick".
"Jawohl Herr General"  Grauhof couldn't believe his luck.  He rushed around the chair,  opening his flies in a most unseemly rush and placed himself in front of the weeping Madame Chambet.  She looked up at him through her tears. his little dick was only half the size of Gerard, and she almost laughed at the thought. Grahof kneeled on the seat of the armchair, his dick pushing insistently at the lovely lips of Madame Chambet.  

Hartmann called the General to one side and began a low-pitched, animated conversation,whilst Grauhor made himself comfortable.
"Open wide, liebschen," he muttered. He had desperately wished for this moment, but he was taking no pleasure from the way she was being forced to behave. "Let me in, don't give them an excuse to hurt you more". Francoise could hardly believe she heard him, his voice so low she was sure Hartmann hadn't heard.

"Help me, please?" she crooned, working his dick into her mouth as gently as she could. Perhaps he could prove to be useful if she humoured him. She began to lick his shaft up and down, taking it full length without effort into her mouth.  Almost immediately she heard him gasp, and felt his muscles tense. His orgasm was immediate, and unspectacular, just like everything else about him, but as he recovered his composure, he patted her head like a dog.

"Thank you, Madame, I have waited a long time for that". and then, under his breath, " I will do what I can.



Part 7
Monica Glasneck sat at her desk outside Grauhof's new office. She was enjoying every minute of her new assignment. Hartmann was incredible.  He was cold, aloof, and arrogant, but when he demanded her attention she creamed her pants at the thought of serving him.  The sex was spectacular, the secretarial work for Grauhof dull and undemanding. Her thoughts drifted off as she anticipated her next session, bent to his demands, his prick pistoning in and out of her arse. Her hand slipped beneathy her skirt, searching out her sex .....
Click!! she froze as the press of cold steel against her temple woke her from her reverie. 

"Do exactly as I say fraulein".  "Stand up, hands on your head" "Over to the door".

Inside, Hartmann and Rauenberg had takn matters into their own hands. Ignoring Grauhofs protestations to leave francoise alone, Hartmann now sat in the armchair, naked. His huge penis standing stiffly from his lap. Francoise in front of him, her hands untied, her hair wrapped around Rauenbergs hand dragging her towards Hartmann. He dragged the helpless woman up to the chair, pushed her knees apart and slid her onto Hartmanns lap.  Francoise began to struggle, but only succeeded in centering the end of his dick on it's intended target.  The bulbous head of his organ pushed relentlessly at her cunt as she moaned her resistance. She screamed as it pushed past her clenched muscles and rammed up her vagina.

As his thrusting increased in tempo, she began to respond.  Slowly, at first, then with ever-increasing gusto, she began to ride his dick. All sense of shame left her as she began to buck up and down on his huge organ.  "God," she thought, "this man is incredible".  Her breathing began to quicken, and soon she was clinging to him, gasping into his neck as the waves of pleasure flooded through her.  She could not believe how abandonded she felt.  As Hartmann slowed, to get a second breath, she suddenly became aware of Rauenberg behind her. At first, she thought he was trying to get his penis into her cunt  alongside Hartmann as he waggled his somewhat lesser organ along her crack, but as his dick became slick with her juices, she felt him move higher, and begin to push insistently at her virgin arsehole.

"No!, No! she yelped, "not there".

Rauenberg ignored her frantic wriggling to get off Hartmanns dick, and thrust home.  Francoise screamed in agony as the pain of her stretched arse seared through her. It did her no good.  Rauenberg ignored her screaming and began to rock backward and forwards, ploughing up and down her arsehole.  At the same time, Hartmann reciprocated, and as the pain began to ease in her rear end, Francoise found herself once again overcome by lust. As the heat built, she could feel her pulse begin to race, amd as the thrusing got faster and faster, she finally came with a scream loud enough to waken the dead. Outside the door, Gerard heard her scream, and, pushing the secretary before him, burst into the room.

The sight which greeted Gerard was worse than he could possibly imagine.  His beautiful Francoise lay, face down on top of a naked Hartmann, whilst Rauenberg, still clothed, but with his uniform trousers round his ankles, was lodged firmly up the backside of the prone young editor.

"Stand still, or I kill the girl" he yelled in horror.

Hartmann struggled to get up, but Francoise, realising how dangerous the situation was, kept him pinned firmly below her.  Rauenberg, however, had no intention of doing as he was told. He turned, realised that Gerard was alone, and smiled.

"Go on the", shoot her!"

Gerard hesitated, unsure what to do.  In the moment of confusion, Rauenberg rolled on to the floor, grabbed his pistol and fired.  The shot ripped through Monica Glasneck, killing her stone dead. The impact and sudden weight of the girl caused Gerard to fall backwards as Rauenbergs second shot whistled over his shoulder.

"Put the gun down, General"

Rauenberg whirled around to see the source of the instruction, preparing to shoot as he did so.  The shot which echoed around the room, hwever, came not from Rauenbergs gun, but that of Colonel Grauhof.  Rauenberg's look of amazement remained on his face as the bullet hit him straight between the eyes.

"You will die for this!" Hartmann shouted, as fear and panic competed in his mind.  Grauhof, however remained calm, as though in a daze.

"You, sir, are a disgrace " he intoned, drawing a shaking Francoise off Hartmanns torso. "You will never exercise that sort of power again", and , so saying put a single bullet into his head.

"The Gun, if you please, Drop it". He gestured to Gerard who placed the weapon on the ground.  Francoise struggled to her feet, and slowly began to dress, trying to regain as much composure as she could under the threat of certain death.  She followed Grauhof's prompting gesture, and stood close to Gerard, both awaiting their fate.

"Go!, both of you, before the guards come. Hurry!"

Francoise looked unbelievingly at Gerard not knowing what to do.

"I can deal with this" Grauhof growled, "now get off to your rooms before you get caught.Don't leave the building".

Needing no second bidding, they ran for the door and headed for safety.

Part 8
Six months later........

Gerard and Francoise Gilbert looked down from their drawing room window as the German column headed for the gates with unseemly haste.  Allied troops were in the village, and it was only a matter of time before they reached the Chateau.  The last six months had been difficult.  Grauhof had to find an explanation for the death of such a high profile General, and the SS had taken reprisals against the locals who had taken the blame.  On the other hand, Grauhof began to hand over information vital to the allies as the inevitability of defeat dawned on him.  Francoise had promised to speak up for him if he was captured, but both of them knew that was an unlikely outcome.

Gerard looked down at his new wife, as the first British trucks rolled through the gate.

"Lets hope this occupation is less arduous than the last...........



THE END

The stories of James Anderton can be found at www.storiesonline.net and on the ASSTR website.

Copyright James Anderton 2001

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Thanks
James