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Old 09-03-2012, 03:37 PM   #1
pervipete
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Default The Arrest

My earpiece crackled into life “handover team at Southwark Bridge over”, I just grunted my reply, I glanced at my watch, just level with St Paul’s across on the north bank of the river, so at current pace, twenty minutes or so.

As I followed the target walked around one of the many corners that allowed the embankment wall to follow the course of this stretch of the river, then stop and talk to a guy in a dark jacket, a girl hanging on his arm, so while leaning against another part of the wall, I lifted my camera to my eye and took some shots, initially at the sights, but then at this little group, before they broke up and the target carried on.

I waited for a couple of moments, idly watching the couple stand by the wall, something vaguely familiar about them, before I stepped away and continued following the target. As I closed the distance, this new pair disappeared into a cafe, I carried on past the spot, paying them not further attention.

I slowed my pace as Southwark Bridge came into view, the handover team visible, standing by the side, looking for all the world like a couple of tourists taking in the view of St Pauls Cathedral, its dome visible beyond the bridges.

As he passed them, I count several heartbeats, then the team break away and commence following him, under the bridge, up the stairs to street level, taking over my place in the surveillance. My job now done, I stepped to the side and looked out over the river, between the old bridges, collecting my thoughts, and mentally writing up my report. I looked back down the tunnel, I notice a busker, playing something mellow on a guitar, funny how I hadn’t heard him before. I step closer and take a couple of pics, standard tourist shots, just in case my target has someone watching his back. I step forward and throw some coins into his guitar case, and with his thank you ringing in my ear I walk off, heading back to the station and then home, my steps lightening as I climb to street level. Leaning on am old, dilapidated, abandoned market barrow I start to put my camera away when suddenly, I hear steps getting closer and someone calling out.

“Ok, just what the fuck do you think you are doing?”

I look up to see the owner of the voice looming over me, a typical middle-class drawl, belonging to a typical middle class body, in a typical middle class shirt and trousers. I shrugged; I was tired, having been up since 4am getting the surveillance teams in place, hungry and now getting pissed off. All I wanted to do was get back to my office, make a quick report and then get back to my flat for some food and sleep. I didn’t want some twenty something middle-class twit messing everything up. So I gave him as wilting a look as you can, putting all my twenty years of experience behind it and flatly said

“What does it look like I am doing?”

“Perving at my girlfriend, I saw you talking photo’s, once at St Pauls and just now, as we approached the bridge” with that he indicated to his left, where a girl was standing, a cool, angry look on her face.

I looked at her, for several reasons recognising her from the crowds along the south bank. Firstly, observing people is part of my job. Secondary, what red-blooded male wouldn’t off, slim build, but with a nice pair of boobs covered by a tight blouse, mini skirt topping a pair of long, tanned legs, all finished with a pair of high heel shoes.

Lastly, and this one made a little voice groan and swear in my head, she was holding what was obliviously a men’s dark jacket, realising I needed to extricate myself from this before the whole op was blown.

“Mate, it’s a public tourist spot, I was taking pics of the sights I can assure you.”

But he was not to be placated, “we saw you, we both did.”

Before I had chance to protest further, three things conspired to really send the day to shit.

My earpiece cackled into life, the second team informing everyone that the target had been hit and run over by a van, meanwhile the guy in front of me had seen that I was temporary distracted and made a grab for my bag on the barrow and was trying to open it while I was grabbing it back.

To add to this chain of events, a local bobby had been attracted by the commotion and was on his way over.

“Son, just give me the bag back and then go” I hissed “before you get in a world of trouble” this was the last thing I needed.

“What’s going on here then?” I heard the PC ask, nodding sympathetically while he heard the accusations, his sympathy enhanced by the tears coming from the accusers girlfriend. I just looked around, my main concern was explaining to my boss how such a carefully planned op could have turned to shit so quickly, however my attention was brought back to the present by the man starting to unzip my bag.

“STOP” I commanded “pull that zip once more and I will arrest you” he just sneered and carried on. I slowly, sadly nodded my head, “don’t say I didn’t warn you” I said as I pulled my ID from my jean pocket to show to them.

“Son, I am Major Peter Bannerman of the London Reich Security Office, I am arresting you under RSE 15 for interference with a member of the Führer’s Schutzstaffel.”

That got his attention, his eyes flicked from the photo to my face and back again, taking in the Death’s Head symbol, the Union Flag with its swastika at its centre. He looked at me for a second, his girlfriend stunned into silence, the bobby nervously hopping from foot to foot. And then, in a way I have heard a thousand times.

“I don’t think so Herr Major, my father is Sir Stephen Cordon, you know, the minister. I don’t think I will be arrested for long.”

“I take it that means you are not coming quietly?” I politely ask, a sneered “no” was his reply, so stepping up to him, with an ease practised by years of combat around the Reich, I grab his shoulders, spin him round and force him hard into the barrow, knocking the wind out of him, taking advantage of this, I motion for the bobby, grab his handcuffs and snap them on his wrists, while his girlfriend looks on, stunned into silence.

I step back, touch my throat mike and call for transport, someone must have been listening in already, no sooner has the last word left my lips then they came around the corner, a large black Volkswagen Phaeton and a pair of black Passats. I threw him in the back of one of the Passats with part of my team, not trusting myself I go to get in the other. Seeing the girl just standing there, I grabbed her arm and put her in my car, as she went to sit down, her skirt rode up, given my men and myself a quick flash of what looks to be very, very, skimpy knickers. I just smile as I go to climb in after her, this might have its good points after all. I look at my men, all of them wolfishly grinning at the combination of legs and flashed underwear. Smiling I jokingly order, “eyes front soldiers”, more grinning before taking Kevin, my second in command aside, taking him to the other Passat, a couple of thoughts just occurring to me.

“Captain, radio ahead and have them pull the CCTV footage from along the route, tell them to concentrate on the footage from the cameras south east of Southwark Bridge from the last hour or so. Have it taken to Sarah, and only Sarah in the lab, also, have the contents of Hoare’s pockets sent to her as well, see what she can do with them.” He nodded and smiled, reaching into the car he brought out some evidence bags, one he took pains to show me. I looked closely, seeing that it contained a computer memory stick. Looking up I smiled, “well done very quick thinking”, in reply he snapped off a perfect salute and climbed behind the wheel, spoke into the mike and then sped off heading in the direction of the SS HQ at Chelsea.

I walked over to the other Passat and lean through the driver’s window “take him to straight to HQ and process under directive 20” the driver nodded and sped off as I went back to my car, my driver opening the door as I approached, climbed in and then the car sped off as well, the girl quiet beside me.

As the car sped along Victoria Embankment I looked over at the girl, taking my chance to really study her, even if it was in profile as she looked out of the car window.

She was pretty, beautiful even, her tearstained makeup not able to hide the fact. Her long auburn hair bouncing and moving as the car moved, its stiffened suspension and ultra low profile tyres transmitting each and every bump to the cabin, her jaw resolvedly set, domination evident, though determination about what I would have to find out.

I looked down her body, smiling, her breasts bigger on second look than I thought, straining against the material of her blouse, a couple of buttons open at the top, her cleavage hinted at as she leant slightly forward, her flesh, lick her hair, moving in concert with the car. Her skirt had ridden up, leaving her hemline not much below the crotch of her knickers, I smile even more, remember the flash of them as she entered the car, leaving most of her legs, her long tanned legs, on show. She did must have known I was scrutinising her, but not once did she flinch, not once did she show any concern.

I looked at her, no wonder he had risked everything for her, I would have if she had been mine...well maybe not.

I leant forward to pick up her bag, rifling through its contents, never an easy job, until I found her ID, Teresa Greensmith, 25 from Clapham. Hmmm, not exactly top draw, so what was she doing in such exulted company. Time would tell.

I looked up, feeling the car slowing down, seeing the SS HQ at Chelsea Barracks coming in view, as the car came to a stop I leant forward and spoke in a low voice to the driver “James, have her taken to block 4, use directive 20” he nodded his understanding, as I jumped out of the car and headed for the door.

As I entered the building I received two messages, one from my boss, asking, which meant ordering, me to meet him as soon as I arrived, the second was from Sarah, she had something important to show me. As this was the most important of the two, it was to her lab I went first.

Luckily I discovered as soon as I got through the door that I would not need to seek out the boss, as Colonel Wright, my CO, was standing there throwing black looks at Sarah and Kevin, the former working at her station, the later trying to fade into the background. This was nothing normal in his relationship with Sarah as her dress sense was unique, the lab coat was the only thing business like about it. I smiled as I pictured her normal attire, black boots, either a slogan T shirt or something black and gothic. If was not so brilliant at her job I doubt that even I would have been able to save her from herself.

As I approached I could she was almost bouncing in excitement, something had got her so riled up that not even the presence of the Colonel could keep her calm. Before I had to say anything, she turned and looked at me, “you’re late” was all she said before turning back to her work on the screen.

I smiled at my bosses discomfort at this, an SS Major being talked to like this by a junior, still he was never any good with dealing with the brilliant yet fragile scientific mind. If he could not appreciate that more of her cases result in sound convictions and not in arm twisting of the judicially, than that is his problem.

I glanced at my watch, “Kevin you and the team finish your reports and then get of home. What’ve you got for me Sarah?” I ask as I join her at the screen, briefly acknowledging Kevin’s goodbye.

“Lots and lots” she replied, indicating the jumble of documents, photos and looped video footage on her screen, spending the next half an hour taking us through it step by step, by the time she had finished the briefing the Colonel was in a high state of excitement, which survived even the discovery of the arrest of the son of a major member of the government, though he was pensive about it.

As we left he turned and faced me “Peter, this has to be handled extremely delicately, where is the boy now.”

I shrugged “Downstairs, under D20” which means he has been processed without any details entered. “Before I’ll go, I’ll have a quick word with him, see what can be down when the evidence before the strong arm boys get hold of him.”

“Very well, you try, and the girl?” “In block 4, under D20, I’ll interrogate her later.” He just smiled at that, “from what I’ve heard about her, I have no doubt.

Ok, I’ll arrange a meeting with Sir Stephen for 9am. Meet me at my office at 8 and we will plan what we will have to do” and with that he walked off, turning around, taking in my dress of jeans and polo shirt “you’d better wear your best uniform tomorrow” and with that he was gone leaving me to head to the cells. Best uniform, great.

So that’s how I found myself the next morning, putting on one of history’s most feared and hated uniforms, a uniform that hasn’t really changed in substance in nearly eighty years, never caught up with our working rig.

I stood looking at myself in my mirror, scared at the change in bearing that was gradually coming over me as I dress, first the black trousers and brown shirt, the trousers then tucked into calf-length polished black jackboots, not the most comfortable or practical of male footwear, the black jacket with its twin silver lighting shaped S’s and my Sturmbannführer insignia on next, Knights Cross won in the continuing border disputes with the Federal Commonwealth of Russia at my throat, polished belt and crosspiece for my holster and Sig Saur, all finished by my cap, the highly polished deaths head to the front.

I looked in the mirror, seeing not the usual amiable undercover officer I am used to normally seeing, but an arrogant, slightly sinister figure, back rigidly straight. Someone not to mess with, no matter your station in life, something I had feeling that would be needed today.

I walked out of my apartment block, heading to pick up my Porsche, one of the privileges of rank, from the car park when I spotted a large S class Mercedes, SS pennants flying, idling at the curb, a man in full uniform standing by the back door.

“Herr Sturmbannführer, this way please” respect in his voice as he opened the door, getting in I noticed both the Colonel and our immediate superior, a German general by the name of von Krupps, sitting in the back.

Wright just looked at me, waited for the car to pull away before nodding “tell the Herr General everything Sturmbannführer Bannerman.” The general just looked at me like I was some kind of miscreant NCO, brought to him for ordering the wrong type of bullets.

I nodded back, took a deep breath and proceeded to tell him, the whole briefing taking up three quarters of the journey. For the final part he just sat there, contemplating until he pronounced his verdict, his German accent thick, pulling out a piece of paper, ready signed and handing it to me.

“This authorises you to do whatever is needed to finish this case and get it over with. You know what is expected. Off course once you have made this arrest, all details are to be turned over to the Gestapo.

I understand how you and your men will be disappointed at this, but I’m sure their sense of duty, coupled with some compensation arranged by my office will make up for it.”

He picked up a picture, one of Cordon’s girlfriend, taping it with his finger, a grin on his face “and I am sure you can arrange your own compensation.” He looked at her, eyes flicking up the photo of her legs, a smile paying on his lips. I smiled and nodded back “I’m sure I will sir, and I’m sure my men can be persuaded to do the right thing.”

“Good, the colonel here will make the arrangements.” And with that, the car pulled up outside the HQ and we disgorged ourselves, heading straight to Colonel Wright’s office to lay our plans, firstly of attack, and secondary for the compensation of my team.

At nine o’clock on the dot the Aide de Camp announced on the intercom the arrival of Sir Stephen, and as arranged we heard him say “I’m afraid the Herr Colonel is in conference with SS Headquarters in Berlin” a mumbled question from Cordon senior “no sir, even if I knew what it was about, I sure you can understand I would not be at liberty to say” causing us to smile at one another.

The colonel waited an extra thirty five minutes before having him sent in and shown to a seat.

Sir Stephen walked in, anger and contempt vying with his usual patricianly and supercilious nature on his face.

“What do you think you are doing, keeping an important member of the Government sitting and waiting outside your office? And you Major” he said looking me straight in the eye “what do you think you are doing arresting my son for a minor public order offence.”

I smiled back but it was my colonel who answered for me.

“Sir Stephen, once Sturmbannführer Bannerman has finished you will see that is no minor public order offence. Go ahead Bannerman.”
“Well Sir Stephen, as you are no doubt aware, two weeks ago there was a major fire at the married quarters of the Field Marshal Rommel military base outside Colchester, resulting in the deaths of twenty of the wives and children of The Oswald Mosley Waffen SS division currently on duty in Palestine. The details were hard to hide from the press.

What you may not be aware of is the nature of the deaths, something which has so far been hidden. All of the victims were found in one room, all were chained together. And from the way they struggled, and from the position of the bodies, it is believed that they were burned alive.”

I clicked a remote and a slideshow of photos appeared on the offices 40” plasma screen, each one a gruesome shot of the bodies, each one causing the politician to blanche a little.

“What..what..what does this have to do with my son” he stammered, his eyes transfixed on the screen.

“I am coming to that.

As enquires pointed to a group of terrorists called the Churchill Alliance being responsible we commenced surveillance on this man, Aiden Hoare, leader of one of their cells.”

The picture on the screen changed to one of Hoare, and then as I talked to a series of photos from the day before.

“Yesterday we had Hoare under surveillance, during which I observed your son and his girlfriend stop and talk to him. And they seemed quiet close and friendly.

Once the surveillance was over, your son confronted me, accusing me off following them both. This I tried to deflect, believing it was just a man concerned for his girlfriends honour until that is, I saw that she was holding a dark men’s coat. The same one in the photo, it was while this was happening, while I was trying to defuse the situation and prepare to arrange surveillance on them that he made a grab for my bag and camera. As he would not stop, and I could not risk him finding the pictures I made the decision to arrest him, especially as Hoare was run over not long after.

And now I have proof I was right too.”

A video file appeared on the screen.

“This is CCTV footage taken of the meeting, as you see in this enhanced close up what is called a brush pass was made.” I played a fresh file, recorded to play one shot at a time, slowly unfolding on screen were images of Cordon junior passing something to Hoare.

“That means nothing, you could have manipulated that footage”

I shrugged and carried on as if I had not been interrupted.

“One of my officers had the foresight to search Hoare’s pockets at the scene of the accident; in it was a memory stick. When we viewed the files we found to be confidential information on security for the visit next month of the battleship Tirpitz during her around the world retirement cruise, something that your ministry in responsible for. So of course the documents had to come from there.

We know that because we found fingerprints on the memory stick case. One was your sons and the other...”

I put down the remote, look at the my boss who nods his ascent and then move to stand in front of Cordon, my hand undoing the flap on my holster.

“Sir Stephen Cordon, I am arresting you for crimes against the Reich, for espionage and for passing on secret information that is useful to the enemies of the state.” As I finish the statement, right on cue, my team open the doors and enter, side arms drawn, accompanied by a pair of Gestapo officers, as I pulled the now deflated minister from the chair, spun him around and attached a pair of handcuffs to him, before handing him over to the Gestapo officers, much to the evident unhappiness of my lads.

Following behind the little party I saw Cordon junior standing there, flanked by a squad of guards, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find some words. Finally he must have found something to say.

“Father I...” he never got to finish the sentence as he received a punch to his stomach from one of his guards and a hissed “shut up traitor”.

I called Kevin over and told him to have the squad escort the prisoners downstairs and then all to come back to the colonels office the moment they left the barracks, he nodded his assent and then they all left the room, returning faster than I expected. I half expected them to linger around the lobby for a moment, bemoaning the fact that the arrests had to be turned over to the Gestapo and therefore they would lose out on the glory.

The reason for their speedy return was soon made apparent to me upon their return to the office, as soon as the last man entered the doors were closed and they all stood to attention, warning me that something was afoot, snapping off perfect salutes, their right arms rigid, probably for the first time since leaving the academy, and a very vocal “heil Führer.”

Formalities over, Kevin stepped forward, clicked his heels and started to talk, straight to me as I had already arranged with the colonel to be alone when they returned, it would allow me a little more frankness.

“Herr Sturmbannführer I request permission to talk frankly on behalf of the men and myself.”

I took a deep breath, it’s now or never to save the cohesion of the team “permission, temporary denied. What until you hear what we have to say and then you may speak. I think you owe me that at least.” He looked at the others, and they all nodded their consent, good so far so good.

I took another deep breath.

“Ok lads, I know you are all disappointed at not being in at the end of this. I know we have all worked long and hard for this collar, and I know we were all itching to interrogate some suspects, but the case was bigger than we thought, it goes to the government, one of the few things we can’t interfere with, that’s our colleagues in the Gestapo’s bag, let’s be honest, they like having their snouts in that trough” snickers and grins started to replace the consternation of before.

“Even those in charge have recognised this, so we will all be compensated a little.” I picked up a folder from the desk and started to hands its contents out, the first two sheets of paper to Kevin, the rest to the rest of the squad.

“Captain Kevin Jones, it is my very, very great pleasure to hand you this, your promotion to Sturmbannführer and leadership of this fine squad of miscreants, perverts and troublemakers.” Laughter now “as someone has to replace me, now I have been promoted to Colonel, in charge of covert ops, in other words, you bastards.” Everyone started to laugh, clapping us on our backs, speaking our new titles with all the respect I expected from them, in other words, not much.

“These promotions are immediate, but I will still deal with the lead on this case, allow continuity on the paperwork.

Also Kevin, the second piece of paper is an chit for you, your soon to be wife, and your kiddies to spend your honeymoon in Trieste, at the Hotel Splendide” his eyes lit up, this was a hotel only used by Colonels and above, unless that was you had shown a great deal of valour or service to the Reich, which he had, finding the key piece in the jigsaw.

“The rest of you have not been forgotten, the piece of paper in your hand is a chit for a month at a breeding camp in France.” More murmurs and gasps, more laughter, a breeding camp, where women were sent for the express purpose of baring children by members of the SS, meant a time of fucking, fucking and more fucking and a month was all but unheard off since the end of the war with Spain.

“I would have sent you Kevin, but I thought a honeymoon was more appropriate.

Now finish your paperwork for the nice Gestapo men...in the morning.... and go down the pub to celebrate. I will meet you there, as I have to deal with Cordon’s now ex girlfriend.” More lustful snickers before the men all left.

I went to press the button on the intercom, intending to have her brought to one of the interrogation rooms but I paused, looking around me at my new home, remembering that there were some sleeping quarters in here, hardly used, but still made up with fresh linen every day just in case, hmmm...now there’s an idea.

I look to the left wall, seeing three doors, one leading to a private bathroom, one to a private exit and the third to the bedroom, opening it up I notice it is as it should be, all fresh and clean.

I go back to the intercom and arrange to have her, plus her handbag, brought up to the office, then sit down behind the large, polished oak, desk, tapping my fingers on the surface impatiently.

First one of the guards bring up her handbag, I rummaged through its contents, eventually finding what I was looking for, checked that and then, finally, the intercom buzzes and then she comes through, flanked by a pair of female guards, both throwing confused looks at me, followed by lustful ones at her as they led her to stand in front of my desk, oh how great that sounded.

I picked up from the desk what I had found in her bag and slid it across the table at her, barking an order to the guards to take her to the bathroom and have her wash up and reapply her makeup, they smiled evilly as if reading my minds, leading her to the bathroom, one outside and one inside, while she sorted herself out.

I smiled benignly as she was walked to stand in front of me, eyes downcast, the two guards looming over her, before being dismissed to go back to the cell block, I would call them if and when I was ready, then when they closed the door we were along, something I had been trying to engineer since the night before.

“Look at me” I commanded at her “look at me traitorous bitch.”

At that, she looked at me, protesting her innocence “I am not a traitor, I have not done anything wrong. I didn’t want him to confront the officer but Matthew insisted, if I had realised he was SS of course we would not have done that.”

I looked her up and down “bullshit, all lies and bullshit. Cordon is a traitor, the man he passed sensitive government information too was a terrorist. I have spoken to Cordon, he has told me everything.

He, and his traitor of a father, has been arrested, they will be tried, and more than likely either shot, or if not, sent to a punishment battalion in the East.

Now what to do with you? You have associated with traitors, you have been implicated as part of a terrorist organisation. Now it would be a shame” I looked her up and down “to waste such beauty in front of a firing squad, so I think I will recommend you to a Joy Division in the East...”

I let that hang in the air, a Joy Division, female prisoners provided for the sexual comfort of the troops at the front.

“But...but...but I’m innocent, I’ve done nothing wrong, I didn’t know that man was a traitor, I don’t even know which man you are talking about...”

“Again, lies, lies and more lies. Such a shame, such a pretty mouth saying such evil lies.

Now in a Joy Division you would service, what twelve, maybe fifteen soldiers a day. You might last, I don’t know twelve months if you are lucky, before being used up and sent to a normal camp for the rest of your sentence.

However, that would be a waste of such beauty, fucking just the common soldiers. Now I might be persuaded to recommend you to one of the officers controlling the one at Dover.”

She still looked at me shocked, “you can’t just do that, I have family, I will be missed.”

I just picked up two pieces of paper, one an order to send her to a Joy Division in the Caucuses’, home to JD’s looking after oilmen, soldiers and even highly regarded prisoners, the other was an order to send her to Dover the next day.

She read this paperwork, her shoulders slumping in defeat “ok, I give in, what do you want” she said at last, her voice barely a whisper.

I smiled at my victory, looking down at my intercom, seeing it was still open and snapping it off, much I’m sure to the consternation of our audience.

“Ok, lose the clothes”

She just stood there, and then defiance blazing in her eyes, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, slowly, as she pulled each button through their holes, bringing more and more flesh into view, pulling it from the waste of her skirt, taking it off and throwing it on the desk.

I looked at her boobs, her perfect looking boobs, encased as they were in an expensive looking lacy bra, her nipples only partially hidden by the lace, while I watched she hooked her fingers inside the waist band and started to slide her skirt down her legs, until I told her to stop, turn around and keep her legs straight as she removed it. As she complied the material of the skirt, already tight though it was, was pulled taut across the cheeks of her ass, highlighting how wonderfully firm it was, the tanned flesh coming more and more into view as she pushed it down.

The flash in the car was right, her knickers where skimpy, a thong under that skirt, she would have flashed her pussy, now barely covered by the thin material every time she sat down. I idly wondered how many men she had teased the day before. Well this is for them as well. I got up, walked around my desk and stood behind her, my cock now causing a painful erection in my trousers.

I run my hands over her bent body, across that ass, skin as smooth as silk, the flesh firm to the touch, up along her back until I was in line with her bra strap, my hands moving across the material until I cupped her boobs in my hands, god there were good. I started to squeeze and maul them, feeling her nipples hardening at my touch.

I pushed back on her, my erect cock bashing against her pussy, the only things stopping me from entering her there were the material of my trousers and the thin material of her thong. I put upwards pressure on her, pulling her upright, enjoying the feel of her in my hands. I then released her boobs, only to put my hands on her shoulders to spin her around.

“If you want to be with officers instead of scum, you had better make this good, you had better fuck like your life depended on it, because it does.” And with that I started to push her onto her knees, bringing her face in line with my erect cock.

Tentatively she brought her hand up, rubbing it along my cock through the material, pushing it in to highlight and bring its shape to prominence. This she was doing almost idly, like she was trying to make up her mind. Her head turned towards the desk for second, looking in the direction of the two movement orders, and then up to me.

“How do I know that when you have used me I won’t get sent to the Joy Division anyway?”

“My word as an officer and the fact you have nothing to lose. I could take you here and now, by force, beating you. And who would save you? The guards? My assistant? They would just wait until I had finished and then take you themselves. Now get on with it.”

She carried on looking up for a moment, and then, the sense of what I said getting through to her, she slowly unbuttoned the fly of my trousers and pulled out my cock, slowly wanking her hand up and down the shaft as she did, before leaning forward to slowly take it in her mouth, her breath hot on my shaft, pushing her lips down as her hand moved up, then reversing the action, finishing by swirling her tongue around my head, a smile starting to play across her face, as she continued, sometimes slowly, sometimes hard and fast, all the while her hazel coloured eyes looking straight up at mine.

I could feel the wetness of her tongue moving underneath my cock, sending small electric shivers to my brains pleasure centre with each of her movements. Again she moved forward, harder and harder, expertly bringing me to the edge, before slowing completely down, drawing out for me the pleasure of her mouth.

It was getting to much for me as much as I wanted her to swallow my cum, I had to have her now.

“Stop and stand up I told her” waiting for her to comply, let her stand there for a second, confused as to why it had stopped. I smiled as I grabbed her elbow and guided her to the bedroom, pushing her ahead of me, watching that beautiful ass move as she walked into the room.

She stopped at the threshold of the room, I couldn’t see her expression, couldn’t read the thoughts in her head, so I don’t know whether she stopped to take in the room or in realisation of what would ultimately happen, that she would have to lie down and give herself to me, fully.

I gave her a couple of moments and then, with a slap on her bum for encouragement, pushed her into the room, closing the door behind us.

She turned and looked at me as I started to undo my belt and crosspiece, carefully wrapping it around the holster and putting it in the room’s gun cabinet, locking it away with my medal and putting the key on a chain around my neck.

Next I removed my jacket, opening a wardrobe and hanging it up, I walked towards the bed, slowly undoing my shirt, feeling her eyes on me as I moved. Sitting down, I lifted my boot clad left leg, and indicated for her to remove the boot.

I enjoyed the view as she turned her back to me and swung her leg over mine, her back muscles straining as she pushed the boot off, the fabric of her thong working its way into her pussy lips, rubbing along as she moved. Finally she removed the boots, setting it to one side, so I lifted my other leg and had her repeat the whole experience, my cock hardening to iron at the erotic sight of her straining to finish the task.

With that, I removed my shirt and then stood up and pushed my trousers to the floor, taking them off and ordering her to hang them up while I removed my boxers and socks, leaving me standing there naked when she turned around, her eyes moving down my muscled chest, over the scars of battle, to my cock and balls, now fully in view.

With a sigh of resignation, she reached around and unclasped her bra, throwing it into the corner of the room, bringing her boobs into full view for the first time, they were magnificent, 32C’s I was to find out later, but looking even bigger on her slight frame, large nipples standing proud in the middle of large aureoles. She slid her panties down next, her pussy lips coming into view, her labia shaved except for a thing strip, so now she just stood there, clad only in her heels.

I stood there for a moment, drinking in the sight of her, her skin smooth and tanned, noting with a smile that she had no tan lines, no white bits whatever, looking down her long legs, to her feet, painted toenails poking through the top of her heels, the pink nail varnish matching her finger nails.

“Slowly turn around” I commanded, smiling as she did, her perfect ass coming into view again, then when she had completed the move and was facing me again I motioned her forward, her now unrestrained boobs bouncing erotically with each step towards me.

I reached my hand out, cupping each one in turn, feeling the weight, the firmness, the smoothness of her skin, moving my hand down her stomach, over her abdomen, her skin warm to the touch, stopping when I reached her pussy. I slowly rubbed a finger along her lower lips, putting pressure onto it, parting them and inserting more and more inside her, first up until the first knuckle, then the second knuckle, a second finger rapidly followed, I put my other arm around her then started to thrust in and out, my palm rubbing her skin, as my hand worked I could feel her pussy moistening up ready for me.

Removing my fingers I stand back, appraising my prize, drinking in her beauty, looking back at her face I smile at her “well I know you are good with one hole, what about the others, get on the bed”, watching as she complies.

I look at her for a moment, her long hair splayed around her head, before my cock takes over and I climb on top of her, my cock sliding along her thigh until its head is nestling between her pussy lips, drawing them apart slightly.

I push forward, feeling her lips parting, than her muscles gripping as I slid inside her, slowly I enter, pushing against her muscles until I am fully in, before drawing back out, then I thrust forward again, she gasps, then I draw back, and then thrust forward, her muscles tightening up against my cock, either to expel or keep in my cock, I do not know, neither do I care as I carry on thrusting away, varying my pace, firstly taking long, slow, thrusts and then speeding them up and up, before slowing right back down again.

She just lies there, I might as well be fucking a shop mannequin for all the feedback I am getting, this will not do, not do at all, and so I whisper in her ear.

“This is not good enough, if you get fucked by an officer you had better make sure you act like you enjoy it, even if he is 60, fat and smells, still act like it is the best fuck you have ever had, otherwise there’ll kick you out, and you know what that means...” I let the threat hang heavy in the air.

She stayed quiet for a moment, and then she started to move her hips in concert with mine, her legs rising and wrapping themselves around me, her heels banging against the back of my legs.

“That’s it” she said, quietly but gradually warming to her task “fuck me hard, give it to me. Oh yes, that’s it” and on she carried, faker than a politicians smile, but sufficient for where she was going to end up.

I thrust harder and harder, grinding my hips into her as I did, her fakery carried on.

“Oh yes, that’s it baby, make me cum baby, I’m cuuuuuuuuuuummming” I smiled at her fake orgasm, grabbing her nipple and twisting, make her scream genuine, just of pain not orgasm. As I thrust I started to move my hands over her boobs, squeezing, groping, mauling them, leaning forward I took a nipple in my mouth, licking it for a moment, and then biting sharply, her scream intensified. And so did my thrusts, before, suddenly I felt my cock start to tremble and then, with a whispered “I am cumming” I shot load after load inside her, feeling her react as it did.

I laid there for a moment, lying on top of her, waiting for my erection to subside before sliding off. Once I had collected my thoughts I got off the bed, looked down at her, my mind made up “you’ve passed the audition, I will get you in there, now shower and dress while I summon the guards to take you back.

Since that night I had kept tabs on her. She had not been in the brothel long, gaining a reputation for her enthusiasm in bed, and I smiled when I read that, her acting must have improved, and getting herself sent to a camp in Berlin, where she had caught the eye, and the cock, of no less a person than our Führer himself, becoming his number one concubine, or so I heard.

The next time I saw her, it was at the preparations for the Führer’s seventy-five birthday a year later. Myself and my former team had been invited to the Berghof, the summer retreat, as a reward for breaking the spy ring the previous summer.

I was in my room when I heard a woman’s scream, and the running feet thundering past my door, getting up, looking out I saw everyone head for the Führer’s private quarters, following them on through the corridors until we reached his bedroom, his door already open, I stopped at the doorway, looking in and seeing Teresa sitting on the bed, sobbing while looking at the floor.

There, lying on the floor was the Führer himself, not moving not even breathing, his personal physician at his side, shaking his head, a heart attack, quick and painless.

I walked into the room, looking over my shoulder I saw my comrades following me in, all huddled around the door, a loud voice was heard from outside and then Joseph Goebbels, grandson of the late propaganda minister and the Führer principle secretary forced his was in, looking down at the body, than the girl, then me and then back at the body.

“Is he?” he asked, his voice weak “yes” was the reply “now who takes over from him, they need to be informed.”

Goebbels just looked at him for a second “he conveyed the succession onto his only son. The result of an liaison with a Britisher forty years ago.” He stopped, looked straight at me, clicking his heels together, and snapped out a perfect salute, his right arm at a rigid angle.

“Is that not right, mein Führer”...
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Old 09-04-2012, 01:15 PM   #2
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Fine writing with many twists and turns ... congratulations
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Old 09-04-2012, 01:42 PM   #3
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